/i 


^ 


^ 


■M1*«* 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


%i 


% 


Presented   bjPv^S.^^  ^Xt-V^ovAT-  V-b-V^r. 


BV  4225  .B47  1889 
Bertram,  R.  A.  1836-1886, 
A  homiletic  encyclopaedia  o: 
illustrations  in  theology 


HoMiLETic   Encyclopaedia 


OF 


JHu^tratioriiSf  in  Cfjeologj)  anD  Quorate* 

e^    HANDBOOK    OF   TRACTICAL    "DIVINITY,    A^D 
04  COMMENTARY  ON  HOLY  SCRIPTURE. 


SELECTED  AND  ARRANGED  BY 

R.    A.     BERTRAM, 

Compiler  of  '■^  A  Dictionary  of  Foetical  Illustrations"  <&•<; 


"  Great  works  are  not  in  everybody's  reach,  and  though  it  is  better  to  know  them  thoroughly 
than  to  know  them  here  and  there,  yet  it  is  a  good  work  to  give  a  Uttle  to  those  who  have  neither 
tirae  nor  means  to  get  more.  Let  every  bookworm,  when  in  any  fragrant  scarce  old  tome  ha 
discovers  a  sentence,  a  story,  an  illustration,  that  does  bis  heart  good,  hasten  to  give  it."— 
S.  T,  Coleridge. 

"  The  aim  of  the  teacher  who  would  find  his  way  to  the  hearts  and  understandings  of  his 
hearers,  will  never  be  to  keep  down  the  parabolical  element  in  his  teaching,  but  rather  to  make  a2 
much  and  frequent  use  of  it  as  he  can." — Archbishop  Trench. 

"An  illustration  is  not  a  mere  prettiness — an  ornamental  phrase,  that  might  be  left  out  without 
detriment  to  the  train  of  thought, — it  is  something  which  really  lights  up  that  train  of  thought 
itself,  and  enables  the  reader  or  hearer  to  see  the  aim,  as  well  as  to  feel  the  force,  of  the  logic 
An  argument  may  be  demonstrative, — it  may  thoroughly  establish  the  position  maintained, — but 
it  may  not  at  first,  and  simply  as  an  argument,  be  fully  appreciated  ;  when,  the  understanding 
having  done  its  work,  passion  and  genius  shall  crown  the  whole  with  some  vivid  illustration,  whicb 
shall  make  it  stand  out  with  a  distinctness  that  shall  never  be  forgotten  !  It  is  one  great  faculty 
of  the  mind  holding  up  a  lighted  torch  to  the  workmanship  of  another." — Thomas  Binney^ 


TENTH  EDITION. 

NEW   YORK: 

FUNK    &    WAGNALLS,    Publishers, 

i8  AND  20  AsTOR  Place. 

1889. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  following  facts  and  suggestions  are  given   for  the  benefit  of   all  whom   they  may 
concern. 

1.  This  work  is  not  merely  another  volume  of  Illustrations.  It  differs  essentially  from 
all  other  collections  of  Illustrations,  except  Parad/e  j  or,  Divine  Poesy.  Its  distinctive 
feature  is,  that  its  arrangement  is  homiletical.  The  headings  under  which  the  extracts 
of  which  the  various  articles  are  made  up,  might  serve  as  divisions  and  subdivisions  of 
sermons,  or  of  courses  of  sermons.  This,  however,  is  not  their  design,  but  that  thereby 
the  student  may  be  helped  to  attain  to  a  clear  and  logical  mastery  of  the  subject  con- 
cerning which  he  intends  to  speak. 

2.  This  work  is  intended  rather  for  study  than  for  hasty  reference.  It  is  not  for  the  man 
who,  when  he  finds  his  ideas  running  dry,  and  does  not  see  how  he  is  to  finish  a  division 
of  a  sermon  effectively,  runs  to  some  Dictionary  to  find  something  that  can  be  tacked  on 
to  what  he  has  written  ;  but  for  the  faithful  preacher,  such  as  is  depicted  in  Ecclesiastes 
xii.  9,  lo,  who  gives  diligence  beforehand  to  find  out  "acceptable  words"  and  useful 
ideas.  It  is  not  intended  for  the  idler,  who  preaches  under  compulsion,  but  for  the' 
earnest  student,  to  whom  preaching  is  a  delight. 

3.  Those  who  use  this  book  are  counselled  to  make  constant  use  of  the  Indexes, 
especially  of  the  Textual  Index.  The  illustrations  in  this  volume  cast  jnvaluable  side- 
lights upon  more  than  four  thousand  texts  of  Scripture.  On  this  account,  they  constitute 
one  of  the  most  valuable  Commentaries  ever  published.  Many  a  brief  clause  referred  to 
in  the  Textual  Index  contains  material  for  effective  and  useful  paragraphs.  He  is  the 
useful  preacher  who  knows  how  to  amplify  without  diluting. 

4.  One  idea  that  has  sustained  the  Compiler  in  the  immense  labour  involved  in  the 
preparation  of  this  volume  is,  that  he  may  thus  be  useful  to  his  brethren  in  country 
districts,  many  of  whom  have  no  access  to  large  libraries,  and  by  a  constant  inadequacy 
of  income  are  prevented  from  largely  increasing  their  own.  His  hope  has  been  thus  to 
put  within  tu^ir  reach  a  volume  which,  because  of  its  wealth  of  suggestiveness,  should  be 
a  little  library  in  itself. 

5.  As  far  as  was  possible,  care  has  been  taken  not  to  include  in  this  volume  anything 
that  has  already  appeared  in  "Parable;  or,  Divine  Poesy,"  or  in  Bate's  or  Foster's 
Dictionaries  of  Illustrations. 

6.  Those  who  use  this  volume  will  find  much  valuable  help  of  another  kind  in  the 
Compiler's  Dictionary  0/ Poetical  Illustrations,  also  published  by  Mr.  Dickinson. 

7.  Every  young  minister  is  strongly  advised  to  make  a  similar  compilation  for  him- 


INTRODUCTION. 


self.  Whenever  he  finds  anything  (fact,  figure,  verse,  &c.)  that  seems  to  him  fitted  foi 
effective  use  In  a  sermon,  let  him  copy  or  cut  it  out.  Let  him  not  trust  to  memory  :  let 
him  store  up  the  treasure  in  his  Note-book,  and  then  he  may  reasonably  hope  to 
find  it  when  it  is  wanted. 

Long  experience  in  this  kind  of  work  leads  the  Compiler  to  recommend  the  metliod 
he  has  himself  followed,  and  which  Mr.  Moody  was  also  led  to  adopt,  that  of  arranging; 
all  the  excerpts  in  large  envelopes,  such  as  lawyers  use.  This  method  has  many  ad- 
vantages ;  but  it  has  its  disadvantages  also,  such  as  that,  to  carry  it  out  effectively,  a 
large  cupboard  with  pigeon-holes  is  necessary.  A  simple  and  an  excellent  method 
is,  to  have  a  large  manuscript  book  for  each  letter  of  the  alphabet,  copying,  e.g.,  into 
the  book  lettered  A  all  that  refers  to  topics  commencing  with  that  letter,  "  Affliction," 
"Amusements,"  &c. 

Whichever  method  is  adopted,  let  the  copyist  write  only  on  one  side  of  the  page. 
Paper  is  cheap,  and  a  neglect  of  this  counsel  will  lead  to  many  inconveniences  and 
regrets. 

Next,  let  the  student  insert  in  his  Bible  a  reference  against  the  passage  of  which 
each  extract  is  illustrative.  Thus,  e.g.,  when  he  comes  to  preach  upon  John  iii.  i6,  he 
may  find  written  against  that  text  A  97,  which  will  remind  him  that  in  the  envelope 
thus  numbered,  or  on  page  97  of  the  MS.  volume  lettered  A,  he  will  find  something 
that  will  be  helpful  to  him  in  dealing  with  it. 

All  this  involves  considerable  labour,  but  the  compensations  for  it  are  abundant 
This  is  one  of  the  methods  by  which  the  student  may  attain  to  a  ministry  of  which  the 
interest,  the  power,  and  the  usefulness  will  grow  to  the  very  end. 


HOMILETIC    ENCYCLOPAEDIA 


OF 


lllitstnitbns  in  (iLljcologiT  antr  P^anils* 


INTROD UCTOR  Y  READINGS. 


I.— ON    THE  IMPORTANCE   OF  ILLUSTRATION    IN    TEACHING. 


(i.)  The  importance  of  illustration  for  the  pur- 
pose of  enforcing  trutii  is  so  obvious,  that  it  seems 
a  work  of  supererogation  to  say  one  word  con 
cerning  it.  ...  A  man  may  often  find  materials 
to  enliven  a  discourse  which  might  otherwise  have 
proved  very  dull,  or  to  fasten  on  the  conscience  a 
truth  or  a  warning,  which  otherwise  would  have 
fallen  on  the  ear  unnoticed,  and  glided  past  the 
mind  unfelt.  It  is  not  enough  that  truth  be 
pointed,  like  a  straight  smooth  piece  of  steel  ;  it 
needs  side  points,  as  a  dart,  that  it  may  not  draw 
out,  when  it  effects  an  entrance.  Anecdotes  and 
illustrations  may  not  only  illustrate  a  point,  and 
make  an  audience  see  and  feel  the  argument, 
but  they  may  themselves  add  to  the  argument  ; 
they  may  at  once  be  apart  of  the  reasoning,  and 
an  elucidation  of  it.  Indeed,  a  just  figure  always 
adds  power  to  a  chain  of  logic,  and  increases 
the  amount  of  truth  conveyed.  It  is  also  of  great 
use  in  relieving  the  attention,  as  a  stopping-place 
where  the  mind  is  rested,  and  prepared  to  resume 
the  reasoning  without  fatigue,  without  loss.  Al- 
most any  expedient,  which  decorum  permits, 
may  be  justified,  in  order  to  awake  and  fix  the 
attention  of  an  audience.  Such  attention,  how- 
ever, cannot  be  kept  but  by  truth  worth  illustrat- 
ing. 

Dr.  Abercrombie  speaks  of  the  importance  of 
illustrations  and  analogies  for  assisting  and 
training  the  memory  of  children.  The  same  dis- 
cipline is  equally  necessary  for  the  hearers  of 
sermons.  Although  they  may  have  forgotten  the 
text,  the  subject,  and  almost  the  whole  design  of 
the  preacher,  they  will  not  unfrequently  carry 
away  the  illustrations,  and  everything  in  the  train 
of  thoughts  lying  immediately  in  their  neighbour- 
hood. And,  indeed,  a  single  illustration  will 
sometimes  flash  the  meaning  of  a  whole  sermon 
upon  the  minds  that  otherwise  would  have  de- 
parted scarcely  knowing  the  application  of  a 
sentence. 

Every  one  must  have  observed  the  effect  of  the 
introduction  of  such  lights  and  illustrations  upon 
an  audience.  The  whole  assembly  may  have  ap- 
peared up  to  the  point  uninterested,  listless,  even 
oppressed  with  stupor  ;  but  the  moment  the 
preacher  says,  "  I  will  illustrate  this  point  by  a 


relation  of  what  took  place  in  the  life  of  such  or 
such  a  person,"  an  entire  change  comes  on  the 
whole  congregation.  Every  countenance  is 
lighted  up  with  expectation,  every  mind  is  on 
the  alert.  Even  if  the  minister  says,  "  We  will 
suppose  a  case  for  the  purpose  of  illustration," 
even  then  the  attention  of  the  hearers  is  at  once 
aroused.  The  presentation  of  actual  facts,  or 
cases  of  interest  in  point,  is  so  attractive,  that  if 
real  incidents  are  not  at  hand,  it  were  better  to 
suppose  them  than  leave  the  subject  without  such 
illustration,  in  instances  where  it  admits  of  it. 

Accordingly,  in  the  Scriptures  and  in  dis- 
courses of  our  blessed  Lord,  it  is  evident  that 
suppositions  are  made,  and  fables  are  related,  to 
illustrate  and  enforce  truth,  to  give  it  life  and 
action.  This  constituted  a  powerful  charm  in 
our  Saviour's  preaching,  even  for  those  who 
cared  nothing  for  the  spiritual  lessons  He  was 
enforcing.  The  beauty  and  exceeding  aptness  of 
His  cases  and  illustrations  may  have  caught 
many  a  careless  soul  when  the  bare  dry  truth 
would  have  failed  to  touch  the  heart.  The  truth 
that  a  man  is  miserable  who  layeth  up  treasure 
for  himself,  and  is  not  rich  toward  God,  might 
have  been  stated  in  ever  so  forcible  language 
without  reaching  the  conscience  of  the  hearers. 
But  when  our  Lord  proceeded  to  say,  "  The 
ground  of  a  certain  rich  man  brought  forth  plen- 
tifully," with  the  solemn  close  of  the  epilogue, 
"  Thou  fool  !  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  re- 
quired of  thee  !"  what  conscience  could  remain 
unmoved  ?  The  hearers  of  our  blessed  Lord  were 
so  deeply  interested  and  absorbed  in  such  narra- 
tives, that  sometimes  they  seem  to  have  forgot- 
ten that  they  were  merely  illustrations  ;  and  in- 
terrupted Him,  carried  away  by  their  feelings,  or 
desiring  the  thread  of  the  narrative  to  unwind 
differently,  as  in  the  case  when  they  broke  in 
upon  one  of  His  parables  with  the  declaration, 
"  Lord,  he  hath  ten  pounds  already  !"  One  can 
see  the  company,  their  interest,  their  eagerness, 
and  the  truth  taking  hold  upon  them  ;  we  can 
hear  their  exclamations,  as  if  a  drama  of  real 
life  were  enacting  before  them.  And  it  was  life, 
taken  out  of  the  form  of  abstract,  and  dramatised 
for  their  life,  their  instruction.  — Cheever. 


(  2  ) 


(2.)  The  revealing  the  Word  by  similitudes  is 
very  useful  and  prolitable  ;  for  it  conduces  much 
to  make  truth  go  to  a  man's  heart  before  he  is 
aware,  and  to  impress  it  upon  his  memory.  Many 
remember  the  simile,  and  so  the  truth  which  it 
conveyed.  It  is  reported  of  the  Marquis  Galea- 
cias,  a  nobleman  of  great  estates,  and  near  of 
kin  to  the  Pope,  that  once  coming  but  to  hear 
Peter  Martyr  preach,  by  a  mere  simile  that  he 
used,  God  smote  his  heart,  and  made  it  the  means 
of  his  conversion.  The  simile  was  thus  :  Peter 
Martyr  in  his  discourse  had  occasion  to  say, 
Men  may  think  very  hardly  of  God  and  His 
people,  but  this  ;s  because  they  do  not  know 
Him  :  as  suppose  a  man  a  great  way  off  sees  a 
company  of  excellent  dancers,  the  musicians  are 
playing,  and  there  is  exact  art  in  all  they  do.  At 
the  distance  he  regards  them  as  a  company  of 
madmen,  but  (added  he)  as  he  draws  nearer  and 
nearer  to  them,  and  hears  the  melodious  sound, 
and  observes  the  art  that  they  use,  then  he  is 
much  taken  and  affected.  So  it  is  with  you.  You 
are  a  great  way  off,  and  look  from  a  great  dis- 
tance upon  the  ways  of  God,  and  so  you  think 
His  people  mad  ;  but  could  you  come  to  observe 
what  excellency  is  in  them,  it  would  take  captive 
your  hearts.  God  blessed  such  a  similitude  as 
this  to  that  great  man's  heart,  so  that  though  his 


wife  and  children  lay  imploring  at  his  feet,  yet  he 
came  to  Geneva,  and  there  continued  all  his 
days,      But  we  should  take  some  heed  here. 

1.  Similes  should  be  brought  from  things 
known. 

2.  We  must  not  urge  similes  too  far,  we  must 
take  heed  of  a  luxuriant,  wanton  wit. 

3.  And  they  must  be  very  natural,  plain,  and 
proper,  or  else  man  will  appear  in  them  rather 
than  God.  — Burroughs,  1599-1648. 

(3.)  Nothing  strikes  the  mind  of  man  so  power- 
fully as  instances  and  examples.  They  make  a 
truth  not  only  intelligible  but  even  palpable,  slid- 
ing it  into  the  understanding  through  the  win- 
dows of  sense,  and  by  the  most  familiar  as  well 
as  most  unquestionable  perceptions  of  the  eye. 
— South,  1633-1716. 

(4.)  A  proverb  or  parable  being  once  unfolded, 
by  reason  of  its  affinity  with  the  fancy,  the  more 
sweetly  insinuates  itself  into  that,  and  is  from 
thence  with  the  greater  advantage  transmitted  to 
the  understanding.  In  this  state  we  are  not  able 
to  behold  truth  in  its  own  native  beauty  and 
lustre  ;  but  while  we  are  veiled  with  mortality, 
truth  must  veil  itself  too,  that  it  may  the  more 
freely  converse  with  us. 

— yohit  Smith,  1618-1652. 


II.— OUR    LORD'S    METHOD  OF  TEACHING. 


(5.)  With  matter  divine  and  manner  human, 
our  Lord  descended  to  the  level  of  the  humblest 
of  the  crowd,  lowering  Himself  to  their  under- 
standings, and  winning  His  way  into  their  hearts 
.by  borrowing  His  topics  from  familiar  circum- 
stances and  the  scenes  around  Him.  Be  it  a 
boat,  a  plank,  a  rope,  a  beggar's  rags,  an  imperial 
robe,  we  would  seize  on  anything  to  save  a 
drowning  man  ;  and  in  His  anxiety  to  save  poor 
sinners,  to  rouse  their  fears,  their  love,  their  in- 
terest, to  make  them  understand  and  feel  the 
truth,  our  Lord  pressed  everything — art  and 
nature,  earth  and  heaven — into  His  service. 
Creatures  of  habit,  the  servants  if  not  the  slaves 
of  form,  we  invariably  select  our  text  from  some 
book  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  He  took  a  wider, 
freer  range  ;  and,  instead  of  keeping  to  the  un- 
varying routine  of  text  and  sermon  with  formal 
divisions,  it  were  well,  perhaps,  that  we  some- 
times ventured  to  follow  His  example  ;  for  may 
it  not  be  to  the  naturalness  of  their  addresses 
and  their  striking  out  from  the  beaten  path  of 
texts  and  sermons,  to  their  plain  speaking  and 
home-thrusts,  to  their  direct  appeals  and  home- 
spun arguments,  that  our  street  and  lay  preach- 
ers owe  perhaps  not  a  little  of  their  power? 

Illustrating  the  words  of  the  great  English 
dramatist — 


"  Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks. 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything," 

our  Lord  found  many  a  topic  of  discourse  in  the 
scenes  around  Him  ;  even  the  humblest  objects 
shone  in  His  hands,  as  I  have  seen  a  fragment 
of  broken  glass  or  earthenware,  as  it  caught  the 
sunbeam,  light  up,  flashing  like  a  diamond. 
With  the  stone  of  Jacob's  Well  for  a  pulpit,  and 
its  water  for  ate.xt.  He  preached  salvation  to  the 
Samaritan  woman.  A  little  child,  which  He 
takes  from  its  mother's  side,  and  holds  up  blush- 
ing in  His  arms  before  the  astonished  audience, 
is  His  text  for  a  sermon  on  humility.  A  hus- 
bandman on  a  neighbouring  height  between  him 
and  the  sky,  who  strides  with  long  and  measured 
steps  over  the  field  he  sows,  supplies  a  text 
from  which  He  discourses  on  the  gospel  and  its 
effects  on  different  classes  of  hearers.  In  a 
woman  baking  ;  in  two  women  who  sit  by  some 
cottage  door  grinding  at  the  mill  ;  in  an  old, 
strong  fortalice  perched  on  a  rock,  whence  it 
looks  across  the  brawling  torrent  to  the  ruined 
and  roofless  gable  of  a  house  swept  away  by 
mountain  floods — Jesus  found  texts.  From  the 
birds  that  sung  above  His  head,  and  the  lilies 
that  blossomed  at  His  feet.  He  discoursed  on 
the  care  of  God — these  His  text  and  Providence 
His  theme.  — Guthrie. 


III.— THE   FIGURES  OF  THE   BIBLE. 


(6.)  The  figures  of  the  Bible  are  not  mere 
graceful  ornaments — arabesques  to  grace  a  bor- 
der, or  fairy  frescoes,  that  give  mere  beauty  to 
a  chamber  or  saloon.     They  are  language. 

Human  speech  articulate  is  marvellous  beyond 
all  our  thought  ;  but  human  words  are  not  sufh- 


thunders  in  tropical  storms.  All  deep  griefs, 
and  for  the  most  part,  tender  and  exquisite  affec- 
tions, are  voiceless. 

Then  i»  is,  if  any  speech  is  attempted,  that 
nature  yields  another  language,  and  figures, 
word-pictures,  and  illustrations,  if    they  do  not 


cient  even  for  human  thoughts  and  feelings.    All  ]  express,  at  least  vividly  suggest  truths  far  beyond 
high  and  grand  emotions  scorn  the  tongue,  that  j  the  reach  of  words  or  the  compass  of  sentences 
lies  as  helpless  in  the  mouth  as  would  be  artillery    such  as  men  frame  for  the  common  use  of  life. 
to  express  the  sound  and  grandeur  of  mountain  |      The   Bible  stands  far  beyond  all  other  books 


(    3    ) 


in  this  use  of  the  language  of  nature.  The  great 
globe  is  but  an  alphabet,  and  every  object  upon 
it  is  a  letter  ;  and,  from  beginning  to  end  of  the 
Bible,  these  sublime  letters  are  used  to  set  forth 
in  hieroglyphic  the  truths  of  immortality.  And 
there  is  ihis  nobility  in  the  use  of  natural  objects 
for  moral  teaching,  that  to  the  end  of  time,  and 
to  all  people,  of  how  different  soever  language, 
the  symbol  used  is  the  same.  Artificial  hiero- 
glyphics differ  with  age  and  nation.  The  Oriental 
cities  had  their  special  characters— the  Egyptian 
his — the  Aztec   his  ;  and    they    differ  one  from 


another,  so  that  one  could  not  have  read  the 
written  signs  of  the  other.  But  the  sun,  the 
mountain,  the  ocean,  the  storm,  the  rain,  the 
snow,  the  winds,  lions  and  eagles,  the  sparrow 
and  the  dove,  the  lily  and  the  rose,  grass,  earth, 
stones,  and  dirt,  are  the  same  in  all  ages,  in  all 
latitudes,  to  all  people.  And  those  truths  that 
are  expressed  in  the  figures  drawn  from  the 
natural  world  have  relationships,  and  they  are 
the  most  universal  of  any  in  the  Bible,  and  the 
most  frequent. 

— Beecher. 


IV.— THE   DELIGHT   OF   THE   HUMAN    MIND   IN 


(7.)  Deep  in  our  nature  there  exists  a  tendency 
to  seek  amongst  all  interesting  objects  points  of 
resemblance,  and  when  some  intuition  keener 
than  our  own  reveals  that  resemblance,  we  bow 
to  its  truths  or  acclaim  to  its  beauty.  For  in- 
stance, when  human  life  is  compared  to  the 
course  of  a  river— cradled  in  the  moss-fringed 
fountain,  tripping  gaily  through  its  free  and  bab- 
bling infancy,  swelling  into  proud  and  impetu- 
ous youth,  burdened  with  the  great  ships  in  its 
sober  and  utilitarian  manhood,  and  then  merging 
in  the  ocean  of  eternity— who  is  there  that  does 
not  see  the  resemblance,  and  in  seeing  it  find  his 
mind  richer  by  at  least  one  bright  thought? 
There  may  be  little  resemblance  betwixt  a  clouded 
sky  and  the  human  countenance  ;  and  yet  when 


METAPHOR, 
that  sky  opens  and  lets  through  the  sunshine, 
we  say  that  it  is  smiling,  and  when  that  dull 
countenance  opens  and  lets  out  the  soul,  we  say 
that  it  is  shining  ;  and  in  the  metaphor  we  feel 
that  we  have  given  a  new  animation  to  the  sun, 
a  new  glory  to  "  the  human  face  divine." 

This  tendency  to  metaphor,  and  the  universal 
delight  in  parables,  comparisons,  and  figures  of 
speech,  are  no  mere  freaks  of  man's  fancy.  They 
have  their  foundation  in  the  mind  and  method  of 
Deity,  whose  thoughts  are  all  in  harmony,  and 
whose  works  and  ways  are  all  connected  with  one 
another  ;  so  that  what  we  call  the  imagination  of 
the  poet,  if  his  reading  be  correct,  is  really  the 
logic  of  Omniscience. 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 


\^  — HOMELY    ILLUSTRATIONS    ARE   NOT 

DESPISED. 

(S.)  God's  ministers  must  use  plain  and  familiar 
expressions  for  the  better  convincing  of  their 
people  both  of  their  sin  and  misery.  The  prophet 
here  (Hcsea  xiii.)  uses  similitudes  from  a  travail- 
ing woman,  from  the  east  wind  ;  and  the  Lord, 


TO   BE   SHRUNK   FROM    OR 


by  way  of  aggravation  of  their  sins,  tells  them 
that  He  had  spoken  to  them  by  His  prophets, 
and  had  "  multiplied  visions,"  and  given  them 
much  preaching,  yea,  and  the  better  to  convince 
them,  He  had  "  used  similitudes  by  the  ministry 
of  His  prophets"  (Hosea  xii.  10).  This  is  an  ex- 
cellent way  of  preaching  and  prevailing  ;  it  both 
notably  illustrates  the  truth,  and  insinuates  itself 
into  men's  affections.  Galeacius  Caraciolus,  an 
Italian  marquis,  and  nephew  to  a  pope,  was  con- 
verted by  an  apt  similitude  which  he  heard  from 
Peter  Martyr.  Nathan  caught  David  with  a  par- 
able, and  out  of  his  own  mouth  condemned  him. 
Christ,  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  whose 
words  were  full  of  power  and  authority,  yet,  the 
better  to  work  upon  His  hearers,  frequently  used 
parables,  from  the  sower,  from  leaven,  from 
mustard  seed,  flowers,  feasts,  from  a  treasure, 
&c.  ;  and  the  Apostle  Paul  fetches  similitudes 
from  runners  and  wrestlers. 

Plain  preaching  is  the  best  teaching  ;  it  is  the 
best  way  to  convince  and  convert  men  ;  and  if 
plain,  familiar  preaching  will  not  work,  certainly 
by  dark,  mysterious  preaching  it  will  never  be 
effected.  This  made  Paul,  that  he  had  rather 
speak  five  words  in  a  known  tongue  to  edify 
others,  than  ten  thousand  in  an  unknown  tongue. 
-That  is  the  best  preaching  which  sets  forth  things 
to  the  life,  and  makes  them  as  plain  as  if  they 
were  written  with  a  sunbeam. 

—  Thomas  Hall,  1659. 

(9.)  Let  ministers  wisely  and  soberly  use  this 


their  liberty  in  teaching,  for  the  edification  of 
their  hearers,  whom,  if  they  be  of  the  weaker 
sort,  let  them  not  trouble  with  profound  matters 
which  they  are  not  able  to  understand,  but  let  us 
be  content  to  use  plain  similitudes  and  home- 
bred comparisons,  fetched  from  leaven,  from  the 
meal-tub,  or  other  domestical  business  ;  knowing 
therein  we  do  no  other  than  Jesus  Christ,  our 
great  Doctor  and  Master,  Himself  did. 

— Nehemiah  Rogers,  1594-1660. 

(10.)  About  three  years  before  the  death  of 
Rowland  Hill,  two  gentlemen  entered  Surrey 
Chapel.  They  had  long  been  friends,  and  one  of 
them  was  shortly  to  leave  this  country  for  India. 
He  was  living  "  without  hope  and  without  God 
in  the  world."  His  companion  was  a  decided 
and  consistent  Christian,  and  earnestly  desired 
his  friend's  salvation.  This  pious  friend,  as  the 
time  drew  near  for  the  young  man's  departure, 
begged  of  him  to  grant  him  one  especial  favour, 
namely,  to  spend  with  him  his  four  last  Sabbath 
evenings,  and  to  accompany  him  to  the  sanctuary. 
The  request  was  complied  with,  and  many  pray- 
ers ascended  to  God  that  the  sermons  might  lead 
the  wanderer  to  the  Saviour.  The  first,  second, 
and  third  sermons  were  heard,  but  no  impres- 
sions were  produced.  When  the  last  Sabbath 
arrived,  the  Christian  felt  increased  anxiety  for 
his  friend's  soul.  He  took  him  to  Surrey  Chapel 
to  hear  good  Rowland  Hill,  and  secretly  prayed 
that  the  preacher  might  be  in  a  solemn  state  of 
mind,  and  not  be  permitted  to  indulge  in  eccen- 
tric remarks. 

The  venerable  preacher  gave  out  his  text:  "  We 
are  not  ignorant  of  his  devices;"  and  immediately 
told  the  following  tale  : — "Many  years  since  I  met 


(     4    ) 


a  drove  of  pig^  in  one  of  the  streets  of  a  large  town, 
and,  to  my  surprise,  they  were  not  driven,  but 
quietly  followed  their  leader.  This  singular  fact 
excited  my  curiosity,  and  I  pursued  the  swine,  until 
they  all  quietly  entered  the  butchery.  I  then  asked 
the  man  how  he  succeeded  in  getting  the  poor, 
stupid,  stubborn  pigs  so  willingly  to  follow  him, 
when  he  told  me  the  secret ;  he  had  a  basket  of 
beans  under  his  arm,  and  kept  dropping  them  as 
he  proceeded,  and  so  secured  his  object.  Ah  !  my 
dear  hearers,  the  devil  has  got  his  basket  of  beans, 
and  he  knows  how  to  suit  his  temptations  to  every 
sinner.  He  drops  them  by  the  way  ;  the  poor  sinner 
is  thus  led  captive  by  the  devil  at  his  own  will,  and 
if  the  grace  of  God  prevent  not,  he  will  get  him  at 
last  into  his  butcherj',  and  there  he  will  keep  him 
for  ever.     Oh,  it  is  because  '  we  are  not  ignorant  of 


his  devices '  that  we  are  anxious  this  evening  to 
guard  you  against  them  !  " 

The  Christian  friend  deeply  mourned  over  this 
tale  about  the  pigs,  and  feared  it  would  excite  a 
smile  but  not  produce  conviction  in  the  mind  of  his 
unbelieving  companion.  After  the  service  was  over 
they  left  the  chapel,  and  all  was  silence  for  a  season. 
"  What  a  singular  statement  we  had  to-night  about 
the  pigs,  and  yet  how  striking  and  convincing  it 
was  ! "  remarked  the  young  man.  His  mind  was 
impressed,  and  he  could  not  forget  the  basket  of 
beans,  the  butchery,  and  the  final  loss  of  the  sinner's 
soul.  He  left  this  countr}',  but  has  since  corresponded 
with  his  friend,  and  continues  to  rc'er  to  this  sermon 
as  having  produced  a  beneficial,  ai-d  it  is  hoped  an 
abiding,  impression  on  his  mind. 

— Metnoir  of  SL  twland  Hill. 


VI.— WHENCE  THEY  ARE  TO  BE  OBTAINED. 


^11.)  "Where  shall  I  gather  illustrations  for  my 
class?"  On  the  source  from  which  they  are  drawn 
depends,  in  a  great  measure,  their  value.  Good 
bank-notes  come  from  the  banker,  not  from  the 
counterfeiter.  No  one  has  any  right  to  have  counter- 
feits, so  no  teacher  has  a  right  to  use  spurious  illus- 
trations. Convey  the  truth  by  the  simplest  illustra- 
tions possible,  and  with  the  least  circumlocution. 
Instead  of  relying  on  encyclopaedias,  &c.,  go  into  the 
streets  with  open  eyes  ;  pick  up  the  dead,  broken 
branch  which  lies  at  your  feet,  and  convert  it  into 
an  illustration  of  a  blameless  Christian  life.  Be 
wide  awake,  be  discriminating ;  or,  if  the  expres- 
sion may  be  allowed,  possess  sanctified  gumption. 
No  teacher  has  a  right  to  go  to  his  class  without 
an  illustration  to  enforce  the  truth.  The  Saviour 
preached  the  gospel  in  the  trees,  in  the  fields,  in 
the  roads.  Why  not  we  ?  An  illustration  is  to  be 
used  to  gain  attention,  and  to  carry  home  the  truth. 
Employ  such  as  are  within  the  comprehension  of 


the  child  Let  Greek  mythology  alone.  Take 
God's  illustrations,  scattered  on  every  hand,  in  the 
fields,  the  gardens,  the  lanes.  Look  at  the  flowers, 
the  grass,  all  nature,  and  pray  God  to  open  your 
eyes.  An  excellent  help  is  to  have  a  Bible  with  a 
wide  margin,  in  which  to  note  dowa,  as  you  find 
them,  such  illustrations  as  bear  upon  any  particular 
passage.  After  a  while  you  will  have  a  book  which 
money  cannot  buy.  Use  always  the  best  material 
you  can  find,  and,  if  possible,  that  drawn  from  your 
own  experience.  Do  not  labour  to  find  great  things. 
Take  the  little  things.  Be  plain,  consistent,  con- 
cise. If  your  lesson  is  about  Zaccheus,  climbing 
into  the  scyamore  tree,  do  not  picture  the  scyamore 
of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  with  its  smooth  trunk, 
but  remember  the  Palestine  sycamore.  Never  use 
an  illustration  simply  foi  its  own  sake ;  ever  keep 
in  mind  the  great  object,  and  let  the  truth  follow 
the  way  into  the  mind  and  heart  which  the  illustra- 
tion has  opened. 


VII.— MISTAKES  AGAINST  WHICH  WE  NEED  TO  BE  ON  OUR  GUARD. 


(i2.)  Illustrations  have  been  compared  to  the 
barbs  that  fix  the  arrow  in  the  target.  But  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  barbs  alone  are  useless.  An 
archer  would  be  poorly  off  if  he  had  nothing  in  his 
quiver  but  arrow-heads  or  feathers.  For  an  illus- 
tration to  be  useful  or  successful,  there  must  be 
something  to  be  illustrated.  A  sermon  made  up  of 
anecdotes  and  flowers  is  quite  as  deficient  as  a  str- 
mon  of  the  driest  abstractions.  — Cherver. 

(13.)  Illustrations,  however  beautiful,  are  dan- 
gerous if  not  employed  with  care.  They  may 
gratify  without  conveying  instruction.  When  in 
excess,  they  become  a  mere  diorama  of  illustration, 
leaving  gratified  curiosity  and  weariness  behind. 
Superior  elocution  can  do  much,  but  a  heavy  weight 
of  adornment  will  enfeeble  the  strongest.  A  multi- 
plication of  beauties  neither  helps  the  beautiful  nor 
the  useful.  The  choicest  tulip-bed  in  richest  bloom 
loses  its  attractions  if  strewed  over  with  buttercups 
and  daisies,  and  occasionally  the  tree  covered  with 
blossom  fails  to  produce  the  richest  fruit. — Anon. 

(14.)  As  I  was  once  endeavouring  to  explain  to 
t  class  of  children  the  nature  of  faith,  I  told  the 


familiar  story  of  a  child  on  shipboard,  from  whom 
a  pet  monkey  snatches  his  cap  and  darts  with  it  up 
into  the  rigging.  The  little  fellow  makes  after  him, 
climbing  higher  and  higher,  till  at  last  the  sailors, 
to  their  horror,  see  him  far  up  at  a  point  where  he 
is  growing  dizzy.  He  is  just  about  to  pitch  head- 
long to  the  deck.  His  father,  called  up  from  the 
cabin,  shouts  to  him  to  leap  out  into  the  water  as 
his  only  hope.  The  child  hesitates,  but  finally, 
trusting  his  father's  wisdom,  makes  the  tremen- 
dous leap,  and  is  brought  up  by  the  sailors  safely. 
One  little  hearer  in  the  class,  as  I  was  rendering 
the  story  as  vividly  as  possible,  seemed  much  inr.- 
pressed,  and  sat  deeply  thinking  while  I  tried  to 
make  the  application.  The  truth  seemed  to  have 
taken  hold  of  him.  "A  hopeful  case,"  I  thojght. 
At  last,  when  he  could  hold  down  the  ferment  in 
him  no  longer,  and  I  turned  to  hear  his  question, 
he  asked,  breathlessly,  "  Well — but — what  became 
of  the  monkey?"  It  was,  in  his  teacher,  the  old 
blunder  repeated,  of  making  the  illustration  more 
impressive  than  the  illustrated  truth. 

—  G.B.  WUlcox. 
(15.)  I  think  the  question  in  every  instance  should 
be.  Does  it  help?    Does  that  mode  of  putting  it 


(    5    ) 


help?  Would  it  help  me?  And  a  canon  of  our 
speech  for  all  times  should  be  the  canon  of  the  old 
poet :  not  too  much  of  anything — to  over-colour  is 
to  destroy  all  effect ;  not  too  much  detail — to  know 
when  to  stop  ;  not  too  many  words — to  overlay  the 
ornament  is  to  destroy  all  the  beauty,  the  harmony, 
the  impressiveness,  by  destroying  proportion.  Pei- 
haps,  in  the  preacher  s  order  of  teaching,  we  must 
often  use  more  than  strict  good  taste  does  allow, 
because  we  have  to  stimulate  spiritual,  and  even 
intellectual,  appetites.  The  severe  style  tells  on 
educated  and  refined  mmds  in  a  state  of  prepara- 
tion ;  but  just  as  pictures  are  for  children,  so  also 
pictorial  words  and  emotions,  which  embody,  and 
even  startle,  must  be  used  in  dealing  with  the 
multitudes.  Still  the  mind,  as  it  prepares  itself, 
should  come  back  to  the  question.  Will  that  help  ? 
Is  that  too  much?  This  will  compel  the  speaker  to 
feel  his  own  images — his  own  language  ;  that  which 
is  real  to  him  will  usually  be  felt  to  be  real  to  the 
audience  he  addresses  ;  not  in  mere  C)piousness, 
but  in  selectness,  is  power ;  not  in  the  crowd  of 
illustrations,  but  in  the  distinctness  of  one^  Ls  power 
— even  as  we  are  lost  in  a  gallery  of  paintings,  until 


we  take  refuge  in  one,  and  permit  it  to  exercise  its 

impression. 

But  you  have  to  manage  your  text  by  illustration, 
and  on  this  1  must  dwell  a  little  longer.  You  need 
good  skill  here  :  good  taste  is  only  the  unison  of 
sound  knowledge  and  correct  feeling ;  but  you  will 
greatly  need  good  taste  here,  as  a  rule.  If  an  illus- 
tration adds  at  all  to  the  light  in  your  own  mind,  it 
will  probably  add  to  the  light  upon  the  text  in  the 
minds  of  your  audience.  And  first,  let  me  caution 
you  against  the  improper  use  of  allegory.  Do  you 
ever  feel  any  tendencies  to  the  use  of  it  ?  It  needs 
superlative  genius  to  be  tolerable.  A  bold,  strong, 
Bunyan-like,  Christmas  Evans-like  mini,  may  re- 
cite an  allegory  like  some  lofty  poem  ;  but  be  you 
very  cautious  how  you  yield  to  the  sedunion. 

—E.  P.  Hood. 


St!  also  on  the  whole  subject  of  the  use  of  Illustra- 
tion in  Preachings,  Beecher's  "  Lectures  on  Preach- 
ing," First  Series,  chapter  vii. ;  Parker's  "Ad 
Clerum,"  chapter  xviii.  ;  and  the  "  ProIe£eir«eaa  " 
to  Bertram's  '*  Parable  or  Divine  Poesy." 


THE  GREATER  TOPICS  IN  THEOLOGY  AND  MORALS. 


ADVERSITY. 

1.  Should  be  expected  by  all  men. 

(l6. )  As  a  wise  pilot  and  governor  of  a  ship  will, 
in  calm  and  fair  weather,  look  for  a  storm  :  even  so 
every  wise  man,  in  time  of  peace  and  prosperity,  will 
prepare  his  mind  for  adversity. 

—  Cazvdray,  1609. 

(17.)  God  "hath  set  the  day  of  prosperity  and 
the  day  of  adversity,  the  one  over  against  the  other," 
as  the  clouds  are  gathered  for  rain  by  the  shining  of 
the  sun.  —Cecil,  1743- 18 lO. 

S.  IB  not  necessarily  an  eTil. 

(18.)  To  be  thrown  upon  one's  own  resources  is  to 
be  cast  in  the  very  lap  of  fortune  ;  for  our  faculties 
then  undergo  a  development,  and  display  an  energy, 
of  which  they  were  previously  unsusceptible. 

— B,  Franklin. 

8.  It  Is  a  means  of  self-knowledge. 

(19.)  If  God  should  refuse  to  interrupt  the  course 
of  men,  they  would  scarcely  know  the  strength  of 
their  resistance  to  Him.  It  is  not  when  the  cable 
lies  coiled  up  on  the  deck  that  you  know  how 
strong  or  how  weak  it  is  ;  it  is  when  it  is  put  to  the 
test,  when  it  is  made  to  sing  like  the  chord  of  a  harp, 
in  times  vi'hen  the  ship  is  irr.perilled,  and  the  waves 
are  beating  fiercely  against  it.  And  it  is  only  when 
men  are  brought  to  the  test  that  they  can  tell  what 
their  real  nature  is,  or  how  strong  their  instincts  and 
passions  are. 

A  house  built  on  sand  is,  in  fair  weather,  just  as 
good  as  if  builded  on  a  rock.  A  cobweb  is  as  good 
as  the  mightiest  chain  cable  when  there  is  no  strain 
on  it.  It  is  trial  that  proves  one  thing  weak  and 
another  strong.  — Beeclier. 

4.  It  shows  other  men  what  we  are. 

(20.)  Sorrow  often  reveals  and  develops  the 
noblest  qualities.  What  prosperity  had  concealed, 
adversity  brings  to  light.  Nobleness  that  we  never 
suspected,  with  powers  that  would  have  remained 
uncultured  and  unfruitful,  have  been  manifested. 
They  are  like  some  grand  mansion  surrounded  and 
hidden,  in  summer-time,  by  large,  full-foliaged 
trees  ;  the  pa«ser-by  cannot  discern  the  fine  pro- 
portions and  ornamental  sculpture  that  make  it  "a 
thing  of  beauty  ;"  but  when  winter  tears  away,  with 
ruthless  hand,  every  leaf,  until  the  trees  stand  clear 
and  bare,  then,  behold  !  the  magnificent  handiwork 
appears  in  all  its  glory  and  perfection.  The  best 
natures  show  best  when  most  tried,  and  they  are 
lovelier  in  poverty  than  in  wealth.  — Braden. 

B.  It  Is  essential  to  the  development  and  per- 
fecting of  nobility  of  character. 

(31 . )  If  you  were  to  hear  some  men's  experience. 


you  would  think  that  they  grow  as  the  white  pin« 
grows,  with  straight  grain,  and  easily  split  ;  for  I 
notice  that  all  that  grow  easy  split  easy.  But  there 
are  some  that  grow  as  the  mahogany  grows,  with 
veneering  knots,  and  all  quirls  and  contortions  of 
grain  :  that  is  the  best  timber  of  the  forest  which 
.las  the  most  knots.  Everybody  seeks  it,  because 
being  hard  to  grow,  it  is  hard  to  wear  out ;  and 
when  knots  have  been  sawn  and  polished,  how 
beautiful  they  are  ! 

There  are  many  who  are  content  to  grow  straight, 
like  weeds  on  a  dunghill  ;  but  there  are  many  others 
who  want  to  be  stalwart  and  strong  like  the  monarch! 
of  the  forest,  and  yet,  when  God  sends  winds  of  ad« 
versity  to  sing  a  lullaby  in  their  branches,  they  dt 
not  like  to  grow  in  that  way.  They  dread  the  cul- 
ture that  is  really  giving  toughness  to  their  soul  and 
strength  to  its  fibre.  — Beecher. 

(22.)  The  gem  cannot  be  polished  without  frio 
ticil,  nor  man  perfected  without  adversity. 

— Eliza  Cook, 

6.  It  enables  us  to  discover  our  real  friends. 

(23.)  Oil  hearing  a  sjvalloiv  in  the  chimney. 

Here  is  music,  such  as  it  is  ;  but  how  long  will  it 
hold  ?  When  but  a  cold  morning  conies  in,  my  guest 
is  gone,  without  either  warning  or  thanks.  This 
pleasant  season  has  the  least  need  of  cheerful  notes ; 
the  dead  of  winter  shall  want  and  wish  them  in  vain. 

Thus  doth  an  ungrateful  parasite  ;  no  man  is 
more  ready  to  applaud  and  enjoy  our  prosperity ; 
but  when  with  the  times  our  condition  begins  to 
alter,  he  is  a  stranger  at  least.  Give  me  that  bird 
which  will  sing  in  winter,  and  seek  to  my  window 
in  the  hardest  frost.  There  is  no  trial  of  friendship 
but  adversity. 

He  that  is  not  ashamed  of  my  bonds   not  daunted 
with  my  checks,  not  aliened  with  my  diserace,  is  a 
friend   for  me  ;  one  drachm   of  that   man's  love  is 
worth  a  world  of  false  and  inconsistent  formality. 
— Hall,  1 656- 1754. 

(24.)  Faith  and  friendship  are  seldom  truly  tried 
but  in  extremes.  To  find  friends  when  we  have  no 
need  of  them,  and  to  want  them  when  we  have,  are 
both  alike  easy  and  common.  In  prosperity,  who 
will  not  profess  to  love  a  man  ?  In  adversity,  how 
few  will  show  that  they  do  it  indeed !  When  we 
are  happy,  in  the  spring-tide  of  abundance,  and  the 
rising  flood  of  plenty,  then  the  world  will  be  our 
servant ;  then  all  men  flock  about  us  with  bared 
heads,  with  bended  bodies,  and  protesting  tongues. 
But  when  these  pleasing  waters  fall  to  ebbing, 
when  wealth  but  shifts  to  another  stand, — then  men 
look  upon  us  at  a  distance,  and  stiffen  themselves 
as  if  they  were  in  armour,  lest  (if  they  should  com- 
ply with  us)  they  should  get  a  wound  in  the  close. 
Adversity  is  like  Penelope's  night, — which  undoes  «11 
that  ever  the  day  did  weave.        — Fellham^  1668 


ADVERSITY. 


(    7    ) 


AFFECTIONS. 


7.  Moreover,  it  is  a  test  of  our  religious  expe- 
rience. 

(25.)  A  religion  which  cheers  you  in  prosperity 
is  certainly  better  than  110  religion  ;  and  faith  in 
God  while  the  sky  is  blue  is  better  than  no  faith  ; 
but,  after  all,  taking  men  as  they  are,  the  religion 
which  they  need  is  a  religion  which  is  brought  into 
play  more  in  the  day  of  trial  than  in  the  day  of  pro- 
sperity. What  matters  it  what  is  the  texture  of 
your  raiment  in  August  ?  It  is  January  that  needs 
thick  raiment.  What  matters  it  what  your  expe- 
riences are  in  prosperity  ?  It  is  aaversity  that  is  to 
test  the  nature  of  your  experiences.  An  anchor  is 
not  bad  when  it  lies  upon  the  deck  ;  it  is  con- 
venient when  we  use  it  in  a  tranquil  harbour  ;  but 
when  the  stars  are  hidden,  and  the  storm  is  on  the 
deep,  and  you  are  driving  in  upon  the  coast — then 
it  is  salvation.  We  need  a  hope,  a  faith,  which, 
while  ii  will  be  a  convenience  in  fair  weather,  will 
be  our  mainstay  on  foul  and  stormy  days. 

— Beecher. 

8.  On  all  these  accounts,  and  on  others,  It  is 
spiritually  less  perilous  than  prosperity. 

(26.)  For  my  own  part,  I  bless  God  that  hath 
kept  me  from  greatness  in  the  world  ;  and  I  take  it 
as  the  principal  act  of  friendship  that  ever  you  did 
for  me,  that  you  provoked  me  to  this  sweet  though 
flesh-denying  life  of  the  ministry,  in  which  I  have 
chosen  to  abide.  I  had  rather  lie  in  health  on  the 
hardest  bed  than  be  sick  upon  the  softest ;  and  I  see 
that  a  feather  bed  maketh  not  a  sick  man  well.  The 
sleep  of  the  labouring  man  is  sweet.  The  plough- 
man's brown  bread  and  cheese  is  more  savoury  to 
him,  and  breedeth  fewer  sicknesses,  than  the  fulness 
and  variety  of  the  rich.  This  country  diet  doth  not 
cherish  voluptuousness,  arrogance,  vainglory,  earthly- 
mindedness,  uncharitableness,  and  other  selfish  dis- 
eases, as  much  worldly  greatness  doth. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(27.)  Some  ships  behave  best  in  a  gale  ;  in  light 
winds  they  rock  themselves  to  pieces.  To  a  Chris- 
tian man  adversity  is  not  the  most  dangerous  condi- 
tion ;  fine  weather  tries  him  more.  When  we  are 
least  visibly  strained,  we  are  often  most  sharply 
tested.  — Birrell. 

9.  Things  to  be  avoided  in  adversity. 

(a.)  Selfishness. 

(28.)  One  of  the  worst  features  of  adversity  is  that 
it  has  a  tendency  to  concentrate  one's  thoughts  on 
one's  self.  One  of  the  best  features  of  prosperity  is 
that  it  permits  a  person  to  forget  himself  and  help 
others.  If  it  takes  all  your  strength  to  stem  the  tide 
of  trouble,  what  have  you  to  spare  to  help  a  brother 
afloat?  But  if  you  are  gliding  smoothly  down  the 
tide,  with  sails  full  spread  and  favouring  breezes, 
you  can  have  eye,  and  ear,  and  helping  hand  for  all 
endangered  and  overladen  craft. 
(/3.)  Despair. 

(29.)  In  the  hour  of  adversity  be  not  without 
hope  ;  for  crystal  rain  falls  from  black  clouds. 

— Nezzoumee. 

10.  Our  supreme  duty  in  adversity  :  trust  In  God. 

(30.)  A  dark  claud  hung  over  the  interests  of  the 
African  race  in  our  land.  There  seemed  no  way  of 
deliverance.  Frederick  Douglass,  at  a  crowded 
meeting,  depicted  the  terrible  condition.  Every- 
thing was  against  his  people.  One  political  party 
had  gone  iown  on  its  knees  to  slavery.     Th4  other 


proposed  not  to  abolish  it  anywhere,  but  only  to 
restrict  it.  The  supreme  court  had  given  judgment 
against  black  men  as  such.  He  drew  a  picture  of 
his  race  writhing  under  the  lash  of  the  overseer,  and 
trampled  upon  by  brutal  and  lascivious  men.  As 
he  went  on  with  his  despairing  words,  a  great  horror 
of  darkness  seemed  to  settle  down  upon  the  audience. 
The  orator  even  uttered  the  cry  for  blood.  There 
was  no  other  relief.  And  then  he  showed  that  there 
was  no  relief  even  in  that.  Everything,  every 
influence,  every  event  was  gathering,  not  for  good, 
but  for  evil  about  the  doomed  race.  It  seemed  as  if 
they  were  fated  to  destruction.  Just  at  the  instant 
when  the  cloud  was  most  heavy  over  the  audience, 
there  slowly  rose,  in  the  front  seat,  an  old  black 
woman,  her  name  "  Sojourner  Truth."  She  had 
given  it  to  herself.  Far  and  wide  she  was  known  as 
an  Afnoan  prophetess.  Every  eye  was  on  her. 
The  orator  paused.  Reacliing  out  towards  him  her 
long  bony  finger,  as  every  eye  followed  her  pointing, 
she  cried  out,  "  Frederick,  is  God  dead?  "  It  was  a 
lightning-tlash  upon  that  darkness.  The  cloud 
began  to  break,  and  faith  and  hope  and  patience 
returned  with  the  idea  of  a  personal  »kd  ever-living 
God. 


AFFECTIONS,  THE 

1.  They  are  irrepressible  in  their  activity. 
(31.)  Love  is  the  great  instrument  and  engine  oi 

nature,  the  bond  and  cement  of  society,  the  spring 
and  spirit  of  the  universe.  It  is  of  that  active,  restless 
nature,  that  it  must  of  necessity  exert  itself;  and 
like  the  fire,  to  which  it  is  so  often  compared,  it  is 
not  a  free  agent  to  choose  whether  it  will  heat  or  no, 
but  it  streams  forth  by  natural  results  and  unavoid- 
able emanations.  So  that  it  will  fasten  upon  an 
inferior,  unsuitable  object  rather  than  none  at  all. 
The  soul  may  sooner  leave  off  to  subsist  than  to 
love  ;  and,  like  the  vine,  it  withers  and  dies  if  it 
has  nothing  to  embrace.  Now  this  affection,  in 
the  state  of  innocence,  was  happily  pitched  upon  its 
right  object ;  it  flamed  up  in  direct  fervours  of 
devotion  to  God,  and  in  collateral  emissions  of 
charity  to  its  neighbour.         — SoiUli,  1633-1716. 

2.  Religion  calls  us,  not  to  destroy,  but  to  con- 
trol them. 

(32.)  It  is  not  the  business  of  virtue  to  extirpate 
the  affections,  but  to  regulate  them. 

— Addison,  1672-1719. 

3  There  is  constant  need  for  watchfulness  in 
regard  to  them. 

(33.)  Affections  are,  as  it  were,  the  wind  of  the 
soul,  and  then  the  soul  is  as  it  should  be,  when  it  is 
neither  so  becalmed  that  it  moves  not  when  it 
should,  nor  yet  tossed  with  tempests  to  move  dis- 
orderly—  when  it  is  so  well-balanced  that  it  is 
neither  lift  up  nor  cast  down  too  much. 

Our  affections  must  not  rise  to  become  unruly 
passions,  for  then,  as  a  river  that  overflows  ths 
banks,  they  carry  much  slime  and  soil  with  them. 

Though  afi"ections  be  the  wind  of  the  ."oui,  yet 
unruly  passions  are  the  storms  of  the  soul,  and  will 
overturn  all,  if  they  be  not  suppressed.  The  best, 
as  we  see  in  the  case  of  David,  if  they  do  not  steer 
their  hearts  aright,  are  in  danger  of  sudden  g  ists. 
A  Christian  must  neither  be  a  dead  sea  nor  a  raj,'ing 
sea.  —SiblMs,  i577'»635. 


AFFECTIONS. 


(    8    ) 


AFFECTIONS. 


4,  A  comprehensive  rule  for  their  exercise. 

(34.)  Do  not  be  over-fond  of  anything,  or  con- 
sider that  for  your  interest  which  makes  you  break 
your  word,  quit  your  modesty,  or  inclines  you  to 
any  practice  which  will  not  bear  the  light,  or  look 
th«  world  in  the  face.  — Antoninus. 

6.  The  folly  and  the  baseness  of  setting  them  on 
earthly  things. 

(35.)  Mercies  are  love's  messengers,  sent  from 
heaven  to  win  our  hearts  to  love  again,  and  entice 
us  thither.  Our  mercies  therefore  should  be  used  to 
this  end.  That  mercy  that  doth  not  increase,  or 
excite  and  help  our  love,  is  abused  and  lost,  as  seed 
that  is  buried  when  it  is  sowed,  and  never  more 
appeareth.  Earthly  mercies  point  to  heaven,  and 
tell  us  whence  they  come,  and  for  what.  Like  the 
flowers  of  the  spring,  they  tell  us  of  the  reviving 
approaches  of  the  sun  :  but,  like  foolish  children, 
because  they  are  near  us,  we  love  the  flowers  better 
than  the  sun  ;  forgetting  that  the  winter  is  drawing 
on.  — Baxter,  161 5- 1 691. 

(36. )  Build  your  nest  upon  no  tree  here  ;  for  you 
see  God  has  sold  the  forest  to  Death ;  and  every 
tree  whereupon  we  would  rest  is  ready  to  be  cut 
down,  to  the  end  we  may  flee  and  mount  up,  and 
build  upon  the  rock,  and  dwell  in  the  holes  of  the 
rock.  — Rutherford,  1661. 

(37.)  How  many  thousands  exercise  their  affec- 
tions and  feelings  without  recognising  God  in  them 
all.  They  much  resemble  a  person  who,  being  put 
into  possession  of  a  fine  garden,  should  experience 
no  other  gratification  than  that  of  devouring  greedily 
the  fruits,  regardless  of  the  magnitude  of  the  gift  or 
the  bounty  of  the  giver.  — Salter. 

(38.)  Suppose  a  man  builds  a  temple,  with  one 
seat  in  it  very  high  and  much  ornamented,  and 
another  very  far  below  it.  You  ask  him  for  whom 
are  those  seats  designed,  and  he  replies,  "  Why,  the 
most  elevated  one  is  for  me,  and  the  one  below  is 
for  God."  Now,  in  this  case  you  can  see  the  hor- 
rible absurdity  and  impiety  of  such  conduct,  and  yet 
each  one  of  you  who  continues  impenitent  is  doing 
this.  You  have  given  yourselves  the  first  place  in 
your  affections  ;  you  have  thought  more  of  yourselves 
than  of  God,  and  have  done  more  to  please  your- 
selves than  to  please  God.  In  short,  you  have  in 
everything  preferred  yourselves  before  Him. 

— Payson. 

6.  They  find  rest  only  In  God. 

(39.)  Every  man  must  go  out  of  himself  for  enjoy- 
ment. Something  in  this  universe  besides  himself 
there  must  be  to  bind. the  affections  of  every  man. 
There  is  that  within  us  which  compels  us  to  attach 
ourselves  to  something  outward.  The  choice  is  not 
this :  love,  or  be  without  love.  You  cannot  give 
the  pent-up  steam  its  choice  of  moving  or  not  mov- 
ing. It  must  move,  one  way  or  the  other — the 
right  way  or  the  wrong  way.  Direct  it  right,  and 
its  energies  roll  the  engine  wlieels  smoothly  on  your 
track.  Block  up  its  passage,  and  it  bounds  away,  a 
thing  of  madness  and  ruin.  Stop  it  you  cannot,  it 
will  rather  burst.  So  it  is  with  our  hearts.  There 
is  a  pent-up  energy  of  love,  gigantic  for  good  or  evil. 
Its  right  way  is  in  the  direction  of  our  eternal  Father, 
and  then,  let  it  boil  and  pant  as  it  will,  the  course  of 
the  man  is  smooth.    Expel  the  love  of  God  from  the 


bosom,  what  then  ?  Will  the  passion  that  is  within 
cease  to  burn  ?  Nay,  tie  the  man  down,  let  there 
be  no  outlet  for  his  affections,  let  him  attach  himself 
to  nothing,  and  become  a  loveless  spirit  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  then  there  is  what  we  call  a  broken  heart 
— the  steam  bursts  the  machinery  that  contains  it. 
Or  else,  let  him  take  his  course,  unfettered  and  free, 
and  then  we  have  the  riot  of  worldliness — a  man  oi 
strong  affections  thrown  off  the  line,  tearing  himseU 
to  pieces,  and  carrying  desolation  along  with  him. 
— Robertson,  1816-1853. 

7.  It  should  be  the  chief  endeavotir  of  preachers 
to  win  the  affections  for  God. 

(40.)  Come  to  the  sensual  and  voluptuous  person, 
and  convince  him  that  there  is  a  necessity  for  his 
bidding  farewell  to  all  inordinate  pleasure  in  order 
to  his  future  happiness.  Perhaps  you  gain  his 
reason,  and  in  some  measure  insinuate  into  his  will ; 
but  then  hi3  sensual  desire  interposes,  and  out-votes 
and  ravels  all  his  convictions.  As  when,  by  much 
ado,  a  vessel  is  forced  and  rowed  some  pretty  way 
contrary  to  the  tide,  presently  a  gust  of  wind  comes 
and  beats  it  farther  back  than  it  was  before. 

If  Christ  ever  wins  the  fort  of  the  soul,  the  con- 
quest must  begin  here ;  for  the  understanding  and 
will  seem  to  be  like  a  castle  or  fortified  place  ;  there 
is  strength  indeed  in  them,  but  the  alifections  are  the 
soldiers  who  manage  those  holds.  The  opposition 
is  from  these ;  and  if  the  soldiers  surrender,  the 
place  itself,  though  never  so  strong,  cannot  resist. 
— South,  1633-1716. 

8.  How  they  are  to  be  won. 

(41.)  You  cannot  attempt  to  dislodge  one  object 
of  earthly  affection  or  pursuit  without  having  some 
other  and  better  to  substitute  in  its  room.  It  was  a 
dictum  of  the  old  philosophy  that  nature  abhors  a 
vacimm,  and  this  is  as  true  regarding  the  moral  as 
the  material  world.  The  dove  of  old,  with  weary 
wing,  would  have  retained  its  unstable  perch  on  the 
restless  billow  had  it  not  known  of  an  ark  of  safety. 
You  cannot  tempt  the  shiveiing  child  of  want  to 
desert  his  garret  or  rude  shielding  until  you  can 
promise  him  some  kindlier  and  more  substantial 
shelter.  You  cannot  induce  the  prodigal  to  leave 
off  the  husks  of  his  miserable  desert  exile  before  you 
can  tell  him  of  a  father's  house  and  welcome ;  you 
cannot  ask  him  to  part  with  his  squalid  rags  and 
tinsel  ornaments  until  you  can  assure  him  of  robe, 
and  ring,  and  sandals.  The  husks  and  the  tatters, 
wretched  as  they  are,  are  better  than  nothing.  In 
one  of  the  islands  on  our  northern  coast  a  daring 
adventurer  clambered  down  one  of  the  steep  clifi's, 
which  rose  perpendicular  from  the  ocean,  in  search 
of  eggs  of  some  seafowl.  The  precarious  parapet 
or  ledge  of  rock  on  which  he  stood  suddenly  gave 
way,  and  with  one  giant  bound  plunged  into  the 
boiling  surge  beneath.  In  a  moment  the  instinctive 
love  of  life  made  him  spring  from  the  yielding  foot- 
ing and  lay  hold  on  a  branch  of  ivy  which  clung  with 
uncertain  tenacity  to  the  precipice  that  rose  sheer  above 
him.  Who  wouJd  have  had  the  madness  or  cruelty 
to  shout  to  that  wrestler  for  dear  life  to  let  go  the 
treacherous  ivy  branch  ?  Worthless  as  it  was,  it  was 
his  only  chance  of  safety  ;  and  those  on  the  summit 
of  the  cliff,  the  spectators  of  his  imminent  peril, 
were  wise  not  by  word  or  sign  to  disturb  his  grasp 
of  what  they  anxiously  felt  might  prove  a  brittle 
thread  in  these  moments  of  suspense.  But  when  a 
fleet  foot  had  returned  with  the  rope,  and  let  it  down 


AFFECTIONS. 


(    9    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


by  the  side  of  the  exhausted  man,  then,  with  no 
hesitating  accents  did  they  call  upon  him  to  let  go 
the  fragile  support  and  lay  hold  of  what  brought  him 
up  safe  to  their  feet.  In.  the  same  way  do  we  find 
the  inspired  writers  dea  ing  with  the  human  soul. 
They  never  exhort  to  abhor  that  which  is  evil  with- 
out telling  of  some  objective  "good"  to  which  the 
heart  can  cleave  instead.  "  Charge  them  that  are 
rich  in  the  world  that  they  be  not  high-minded,  nor 
trust  in  uncertain  riches,  But  in  the  living  God." 
"  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in 
the  world  .  .  .  The  world  passeth  away,  and  the 
lust  thereof;  But  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth 
fo  r  ever. ' '  —  Guih  rie. 

(42.)  In  the  spangled  sky,  the  rainbow,  the 
woodland  hung  with  diamonds,  the  sward  sown  with 
pearly  dew,  the  rosy  dawn,  the  golden  clouds  of 
even,  the  purple  mountains,  the  hoary  rock,  the 
blue  boundless  main,  Nature's  simplest  flower,  or 
some  fair  form  of  laughing  child  or  lovely  maiden, 
we  cannot  see  the  beautiful  without  admiring  it. 
That  is  one  law  of  our  nature.  Another  is,  that  so 
far  as  earthly  objects  are  concerned,  aftd  apart  from 
the  beauty  of  holiness,  we  cannot  help  loving  what 
is  lovely,  and  regarding  it  with  aflection.  Our 
affections  are  drawn  to  an  attractive  object  as  natu- 
rally as  iron  is  charmed  by  a  loadstone.  God  made 
us  to  love  ;  and  when  brought  near  to  such  an 
object  our  feelings  entwine  themselves  around  it, 
as  the  soft  and  pliant  tendrils  of  the  vine  do  around 
the  support  it  clothes  with  leaves,  and  hangs  with 
purple  clusters.  Such  analogy  is  there  between  the 
laws  of  mind  and  matter.  — Guthrie. 

9.  How  they  are  to  be  controlled. 

(43.)  Draw  off  thy  observation  from  deluding 
vanities,  as  if  there  were  no  such  things  before  thee. 
When  thou  rememberest  that  there  is  a  God,  kings 
and  nobles,  riches  and  honours,  and  all  the  world 
should  be  forgotten  in  comparison  of  Him  ;  and 
thou  shouldst  live  as  if  there  were  no  such  things,  if 
God  appear  not  to  thee  in  them.  See  them  as  if 
thou  didst  not  see  them,  as  thou  seest  a  candle 
before  the  sun  ;  or  a  pile  of  grass,  or  single  dust  in 
comparison  with  the  earth.  Hear  them  as  if  thou 
didst  not  hear  them  ;  as  thou  hearest  not  the  leaves 
of  the  shaken  tree  at  the  same  time  with  a  clap  of 
thunder.  As  greatest  things  obscure  the  least,  so 
let  the  Being  of  the  Infinite  God  so  take  up  all  the 
powers  of  thy  soul,  as  if  there  were  nothing  else  but 
He,  when  anything  would  draw  thee  from  Him. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(44.)  On  board  iron  vessels  it  is  a  common  thing 
to  see  a  compass  placed  aloft,  to  be  as  much  away 
from  the  cause  of  aberration  as  possible  :  a  wise  hint 
to  us  to  elevate  our  affections  and  desires ;  the 
nearer  to  God,  the  less  swayed  by  worldly  influences. 

— Spurgeon. 

(45.)  Seek  for  God  in  everything,  and  for  every- 
thing in  God.  Only  thus  will  you  be  able  to  bridle 
those  cravings  which  else  tear  the  heart.  The 
presence  of  the  ktng  awes  the  crowd  into  silence. 
When  the  full  moon  is  in  the  nightly  sky,  it  makes 
the  heavens  bare  of  flying  cloud-rack,  and  all  the 
twinkling  stars  are  lost  in  the  peaceful,  solitary 
splendour.  So  let  delight  in  God  rise  in  our  souls, 
and  lesser  lights  pale  before  it — do  not  cease  to  be, 
but  add  their  feebleness,  unnoticed,  to  its  radiance. 
The  more  we  have  our  affections  set  on  God,  the 
more  we  shall  enjoy,  because  we  subordinate  His 


gifts.  The  less,  too,  shall  we  dread  their  loss,  the 
less  be  at  the  mercy  of  their  fluctuations.  The 
capitalist  does  not  think  so  much  of  the  year's  gains 
as  the  needy  adventurer,  to  whom  they  make  the 
difference  between  bankruptcy  and  competence.  li 
you  have  God  for  your  ' '  enduring  substance, "  you  can 
face  all  varieties  of  condition,  and  be  calm,  saying  : 

"  Give  what  Thou  canst,  without  Thee  I  am  poor. 
And  with  Thee  rich,  take  what  Thou  wilt  vway." 
— iVaclaren. 

10.  Their  free  exercise  Is  necessary  to  give 
beauty  to  tjie  religious  life. 

(46.)  Christians,  however  exact  and  regular  in 
the  detail  of  duties,  where  the  religious  affections 
do  not  hold  dominion,  give  an  impression  similar  to 
that  of  leafless  trees  observed  in  winter,  admirable 
for  the  distinct  exhibition  of  their  boughs  so  clearly 
defined,  left  destitute  of  all  the  soft,  green,  luxu- 
riant foliage  which  is  requisite  to  make  a  perfect 
tree.  The  affections  which  exist  in  such  minds 
seem  to  have  a  bleak  abode,  somewhat  like  those 
deserted  nests  which  you  often  see  in  such  trees. 

—i>ait€r. 


AFFLICTION. 

I.    OUli    PRESENT  PORTION. 

(47.)  When  man  prospereth,  so  that  all  things  go 
well  with  him,  yet  it  fareth  with  him  as  with  a 
flower  in  the  field,  which  flourisheth  for  a  while,  and 
is  pleasant  to  look  upon  :  within  a  little  while  after 
it  drieth  up  and  fadeth  away. 

As  long  as  we  are  upon  earth  we  are,  as  it  were, 
in  a  camp  or  siege,  where  we  must  ever  be  skirmish- 
ing and  fighting,  and  know  neither  who  shall  break 
out  and  give  the  onset  against  us,  nor  how,  nor 
when.  — VVerniullerus,  1551. 

(48.)  The  present  state  of  life  is  subject  to  afflictions, 
as  a  seaman's  life  is  subject  to  storms.  "  Man  is 
born  to  trouble ; "  he  is  heir-apparent  to  it ;  he 
comes  into  the  world  with  a  cry,  and  goes  out  with 
a  groan.  — Watson,  1696. 

(49.)  The  present  life  is  an  incurable  disease,  and 
sometimes  attended  with  that  sharp  sense,  that 
death  is  desired  as  a  remedy,  and  accepted  as  a 
benefit.  And  though  the  saints  have  reviving 
cordials,  yet  their  joys  are  mixed  with  many 
sorrows,  nay,  caused  by  sorrows.  Tlie  tears  of 
repentance  a^e  their  sweetest  refreshment.  Here 
the  living  stones  are  cut  and  wounded,  and  made 
fit  by  sufferings  for  a  temple  unto  God  in  the  New 
Jerusalem.  But  as  in  the  building  of  Solomon's 
temple,  the  noise  of  a  hammer  was  not  heard,  for 
all  the  parts  were  framed  before  with  that  exact 
design  and  correspondence,  that  they  firmly  com- 
bined together  ;  they  were  hewn  in  another  place, 
and  nothing  remained  but  the  putting  them  one 
upon  another  in  the  temple,  and  then,  as  sacred, 
they  were  inviolable  :  so  God,  the  wise  Architect, 
having  prepared  the  saints  here  by  many  cutting 
afflictions,  places  them  in  the  Eternal  Building, 
where  no  voice  of  sorrow  is  heard. 

— Bates,  1 625- 1 699. 

(50.)  The  Christian  lives  in  the  midst  of  crosses, 
as  the  fish  lives  in  the  sea. —  Vianney. 


AFFLICTION. 


(     lo    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


(51.)  When  God  built  this  world,  He  did  not 
build  a  palace  com])lete  with  appointnr-.ents.  This 
is  a  drill  world.  Men  were  not  dropped  down  upon 
it  like  manna,  fit  to  be  gathered  and  used  as  it  fell ; 
but  like  seeds,  to  whom  the  plough  is  father,  the 
furrow  mother,  and  on  which  iron  and  stone,  sickle, 
flail  and  mill,  must  act  before  they  come  to  the  loaf. 

— Beecher. 

II.  ITS    GRIEVOUSNESS. 

(52.)  Our  imagination  makes  every  day  of  our 
sorrow  appear  like  Joshua's  day,  when  the  sun 
stood  still  in  Gibeon.  The  summer  of  our  delight 
IS  too  short ;  but,  oh,  the  winter  of  our  aflliction  goes 
slowly  off.  — Adams,  1654. 

(53.)  Sorrow  commonly  comes  on  horseback,  but 
goes  away  on  foot.  — Adams,  1654. 

(54.)  Every  man  feels,  and  not  strangely,  that 
there  never  were  such  experiences  of  life  as  his 
own.  No  joy  was  ever  like  our  joy,  no  scrrow  ever 
like  our  sorrow.  Indeed,  there  is  a  kind  of  indig- 
nation excited  in  us  when  one  likens  our  gvief  to  his 
jwn.  The  soul  is  jealous  of  its  experieaces,  and 
does  not  like  pride  to  be  humbled  by  tlu  thought 
that  they  are  common.  For,  though  we  know  that 
the  world  groans  and  travails  in  pain,  and  has 
done  so  for  ages,  yet  a  groan  heard  by  our  ear  is  a 
very  different  thing  from  a  groan  uttered  by  our 
mouth.  The  sorrows  of  other  men  seem  to  us  like 
clouds  of  rain  that  empty  themselves  in  the  distance, 
and  whose  long-travelling  thunder  comes  to  us 
mellowed  and  subdued  ;  but  our  own  troubles  are 
like  a  storm  bursting  right  overhead,  and  sending 
down  its  bolts  upon  us  with  direct  plunge. 

— Beecher. 

(55-)  We  can  recommend  so  persuasively  the 
cheerful  drinking  of  the  cup  of  sorrow  when  in  the 
hand  of  others,  but  what  wry  faces  we  make  when 
put  into  our  own  1  — A.  J.  Morris. 

III.  ITS   DESIGN. 

1.  To  produce  repentance  and  lead  to  amend- 
ment of  life. 
(56.)  When  Almighty  God,  for  the  merits  of  His 
son,  not  of  any  ireful  mind,  but  of  a  loving  heart 
towards  us,  doth  correct  us.  He  may  be  likened 
unto  a  father  ;  as  the  natural  father  first  teacheth 
his  beloved  child,  and  afterwards  giveth  him  warn- 
ing, and  then  correcteth  him  at  last,  even  so  the 
eternal  God  assayeth  all  manner  of  ways  with  us. 
First,  He  teacheth  us  His  will  through  the  oreach- 
ing  of  His  Word,  and  giveth  us  warning.  Now, 
if  so  be  that  we  will  not  follow  Him,  then  He 
beateth  us  a  little  with  a  rod,  with  poverty,  sickness, 
or  with  other  afflictions,  which  should  be  esteemed 
as  nothing  else  but  children's  rods  or  the  wands  of 
correction.  If  such  a  rod  will  not  do  any  good, 
and  his  son  waxeth  stubborn,  then  taketh  the 
father  a  whip  or  r.  stick,  and  beateth  him  till  his 
Dones  crack ;  even  so,  when  we  wax  obstinate  and 
care  neither  for  wofds  nor  stripes,  then  sendeth  God 
unto  us  more  heavy  and  universal  plagues.  All 
this  He  doth  to  drive  us  unto  repentance  and 
amendment  of  our  lives.  Now  truth  it  is,  that  it  is 
against  the  father's  will  to  strike  his  child  ;  he 
would  much  rather  do  him  all  the  good  that  ever  he 
could.  Even  so  certainly,  when  God  sendeth 
affliction  upon  our  necks,  there  lieth  hidden  under 
that  rod  a  fatherly  affection.     For  the  peculiar  and 


natural  property  o*"  God  is  to  be  loving  and  friendly, 
to  heal,  to  help,  and  to  do  good  to  His  children, 
mankind.  — IVerniuHenis,  15  51. 

(57.)  When  the  oil  of  spiritual  grace  will  not 
mollify  our  iron  hearts,  then  God  makes  them  soft 
in  the  fiery  furnace  of  tribulation.  When  they  are 
such  stiff  grounds,  that  they  are  not  fit  for  the  seed 
of  the  Word,  then  He  breaks  up,  ploughs,  and 
harrows  them  with  afflictions,  that  so  they  may 
become  fruitful.  And  whereas,  naturally,  we  are 
so  blinded  with  self-love  that  we  do  not  see  our 
sins,  and  so  puffed  up  with  pride,  tliat  we  will  not 
confess  them,  when  our  eyes  are  anointed  with  this 
sharp  eye  salve  of  afflictions,  we  easily  discern  all 
our  former  wicked  courses ;  and  when  our  lofty 
hearts  are  pressed  down  with  the  weight  of  tribula- 
tions, then  we  humble  ourselves  before  God,  and 
acknowledge  our  sins.  — Dozuname,  1644. 

(58.)  What  does  God  send  forth  His  arrows  for, 
and  shoot  this  man  with  sickness,  another  with 
poverty,  and  a  third  with  shame,  but  to  reclaim  and 
to  recover  them  ?  to  embitter  the  sweet  morsels  of 
sensuality  to  them,  and  to  knock  off  their  affections 
from  siniul  pleasure?  For  God  makes  not  the 
miseries,  jf  men  His  recreation.  It  can  be  no 
diversion  to  the  surgeon  to  hear  the  shrieks  of  him 
whom  he  is  cutting  for  the  stone  ;  yet  he  goes  on 
with  his  work,  for  he  designs  nothing  but  cure  to 
the  person  whom  he  afflicts.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(59.)  By  repentance  is  meant,  in  Scripture,  change 
of  life,  alteration  of  habits,  renewal  of  heart.  This 
is  the  aim  of  all  sorrow.  The  consequences  of  sin 
are  meant  to  wean  from  sin.  The  penalty  annexed 
to  it  is,  in  the  first  instance,  corrective,  not  penaL 
Fire  burns  the  child,  to  teach  it  one  of  the  truths  oi 
this  universe — the  property  of  fire  to  burn.  The 
fever  in  the  veins  and  the  headache  which  succeed 
intoxication,  are  meant  to  warn  against  excess.  On 
the  first  occasion  they  are  simply  corrective  ;  in  every 
succeeding  one  they  assume  more  and  more  a  penal 
character,  in  proportion  as  the  conscience  carries 
with  them  the  sense  of  ill  desert.  Sorrow,  then, 
has  done  its  work  when  it  deters  from  evil ;  in  other 
words,  when  it  works  repentance. 

— F.  W.  Robertson,  1816-1853.     ' 

2.  To  prevent  us  from  going  astray. 

(60.)  As  men  clip  the  feathers  of  fowls,  when  they 
begin  to  fly  too  high  or  too  far  ;  even  so  doth  God 
diminish  our  riches,  &c.,  that  we  should  not  pass 
our  bounds,  and  glory  too  much  of  such  gifts. 

—  IVermtillerus,  1551. 

(61.)  We  are  furthered  by  our  afflictions  in  attain- 
ing to  heavenly  happiness,  as  they  are  used  by  God 
to  keep  us  in  the  way  of  righteousness  which  leads 
to  it.  For,  whereas  by  our  natural  corruption  we 
are  ready  to  wander  into  the  bye-paths  of  sin,  being 
allured  by  the  enticing  baits  of  worldly  vanities,  the 
Lord  makes  afflictions  to  serve  us  as  a  thorny  hedge 
and  strong  fence  to  keep  us  in  our  right  course. 

And  when,  sailing  in  the  sea  of  this  miserable 
world  towards  the  haven  of  everlasting  rest,  we  are 
ready  to  listen  to  the  sweet  syren  tunes  of  carnal 
pleasures,  and  leaping  out  of  our  ship  of  safety,  the 
true  and  invisible  Church,  to  perish,  by  adhering  to 
them  in  the  gulf  of  destruction,  God  in  love  to  us 
uses  our  afflictions,  as  wax  to  stop  ou-  ears,  that  we 
may  not  hearken  to  these   bewitching   songs,  but 


AFFLICTION. 


(     "     ) 


AFFLICTION. 


may  without  distraction  hold  on  our  course,  which 
will  bring  us  at  the  last  to  the  port  of  blessedness. 
— Downame,  1644. 

(62.)  The  Lord  takes  away  from  His  children 
worldly  honours,  when  He  sees  that  they  would  by 
them  be  puffed  up  with  pride.  Thus  He  deprives 
them  of  riches,  when  they  would  be  unto  them 
thorns  to  choke  and  hinder  the  growth  of  His 
heavenly  grace,  or  provocations  and  incitements  to 
sin,  or  the  means  and  instruments  to  further  them 
in  wicked  actions,  or,  like  camels'  hunches,  hinder 
them  from  entering  into  the  strait  gate  which  leads 
to  happiness.  Thus,  He  takes  from  us  parents, 
children,  and  dear  friends,  when,  if  we  should  still 
enjoy  them,  we  would  make  them  our  idols,  setting 
our  hearts  upon,  loving,  or  trusting  in  them  more 
than  in  God  Himself.  So  He  deprives  us  of  our 
earthly  pleasures  when  He  sees  that  we  would  prefer 
them  before  heavenly  joys  ;  and  causes  us  to  find 
many  crosses  in  the  world,  because  He  knows  that 
if  it  should  smile  and  fawn  upon  us,  we  would  make 
a  paradise  of  the  place  of  our  pilgrimage,  set  our 
affections  upon  these  transitory  trifles,  and  never 
care  to  travel  in  the  way  of  holiness  which  leads  to 
our  heavenly  countiy. 

As,  therefore,  the  skilful  physician  does  not  only 
apply  medicines  for  the  curing  of  diseases  when  men 
are  fallen  into  them,  but  also  in  time  of  infection, 
and  when  they  see  some  distemper  in  them  through 
the  abounding  of  humours,  give  wholesome  pre- 
servatives to  maintain  health ;  so  our  Heavenly 
Physician  uses  these  portions  of  affliction,  not  only 
to  cure  us  of  the  diseases  of  sin,  when  we  are  fallen 
into  them,  but  also  to  purge  away  our  inward  cor- 
ruptions, and  so  to  prevent  these  deadly  sicknesses 
of  the  soul,  before  they  have  seized  upon  us,  and  to 
free  us  from  all  causes  and  other  sins  which  would 
otherwise  bring  us  into  this  dangerous  condition. 
— Downame,  1644. 

(63.)  We  who  were  wild  branches  barren  of  all 
good  fruit  of  holiness,  are  through  God's  infinite 
mercy  ingrafted  into  the  true  Vine,  Jesus  Christ, 
from  whom  receiving  all  our  grace  and  sap,  we  are 
enabled  to  bring  forth  the  pleasant  grapes  of  new 
obedience.  Yet,  if  we  were  left  alone,  and  suffered 
to  run  out  with  uncontrolled  liberty,  we  would,  like 
the  vine  which  is  never  pruned,  return  to  our  old 
natural  wildness,  and  bring  forth  no  other  fruit  than 
those  sour  grapes  of  iniquity  and  sin  ;  therefore  our 
heavenly  Vintager,  for  His  own  glory  and  our  good, 
cuts  away  the  superfluities  of  our  licentious  liberty, 
and  prunes  us  with  this  knife  of  aflliction,  that  being 
kept  short  in  our  carnal  desires,  we  may  become 
more  fruitful  in  all  holy  duties  (John  xv.  i,  2). 

— Dinvname,  1644. 

(64.)  It  may  be  that  thy  outward  comforts  are 
taken  from  thee  that  God  may  be  all  in  all  to  thee. 
It  may  be  while  thou  hadst  these  things  they  did 
share  with  God  in  thy  affections  ;  a  great  part  of  the 
stream  of  thy  affection  ran  that  way.  Now  the  Lord 
would  net  have  the  affections  of  His  children  to  run 
waste  ;  He  does  not  care  for  other  men's  affections, 
but  thine,  they  are  precious,  and  God  would  not  have 
Ihem  run  waste.  Therefore  He  cuts  off  thy  other 
pipes,  that  my  heart  may  run  wholly  upon  Him.  If 
you  perceive  that  one  of  your  servants,  because  she 
feeds  and  tends  them,  steals  away  the  hearts  of  your 
children,  you  will  hardly  be  able  to  bear  it ;  you 
would  be  ready  to  turn  away  such  a  servant.  And 
when  the  servant  is  gone,  the  child  is  at  a  great  loss, 
it  has  not  the  nurse.    But  the  mother  intends  by  her 


putting  away  that  the  affections  of  the  child  might 
run  the  more  strongly  towards  herself;  and  what 
loss  has  the  child,  that  the  affections  that  ran  in  a 
rough  channel  before  towards  the  servant  run  ta 
wards  the  mother?  So  those  affections  that  run 
towards  the  creature  God  would  have  them  run 
toward  Himself,  that  so  He  may  be  all  in  all  to  thee 
here  in  this  world.  And  a  gracious  heart  can  indeed 
tell  how  to  enjoy  God  so  as  that  God  shall  be  all  in 
all  to  it  :  that  is  the  happiness  of  heaven  to  have 
God  to  be  all  in  all.        — Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

(65.)  The  best  ground  untilled  soonest  runs  out 
rank  weeds.  Such  are  God's  children,  overgrown 
with  security  ere  they  are  aware,  unless  they  be  well 
exercised,  both  with  God's  plough  of  affliction  and 
their  own  industry  of  meditation. 

— Hall,  1 574-1656. 

3.  To  recall  us  to  duty  and  true  happiness, 
(66.)  There  is  never  a  schoolmaster  taketh  any 
scholar,  but  he  will  make  these  conditions  with  him 
expressly  :  that  the  lad  shall  not  be  self-willed,  but 
with  all  possible  diligence  shall  take  heed  unto  that 
which  the  master  teacheth  him  ;  and  if  he  will  be 
negligent,  or  play  the  truant,  if  he,  being  his  master, 
should  punish  him  therefore,  that  he  be  content  to 
take  it  patiently.  The  master  doth  not  punish  his 
scholar  for  any  malice  towards  him,  but  only  that 
he  should  learn  better  afterward.  Even  so  Christ 
receiveth  no  disciple  but  He  maketh  conditions  with 
him  most  necessary  for  every  Christian  man,  which 
are  expressed  in  Matthew  xvi.  24.  The  Word  of 
God  ought  to  be  the  only  rule  whereby  we  should 
be  ordered  ;  but  we  had  rather  to  follow  our  own 
head,  by  the  means  whereof  ofttimes  we  go  away  ; 
and  therefore  the  Heavenly  Schoolmaster  knappeth 
us  on  the  fingers  till  we  apprehend  and  learn  His 
will  more  perfectly.  — We7-mtillertis,  1551. 

(67.)  When  a  horse-breaker  giveth  unto  a  lusty 
young  horse  too  much  of  the  bridle,  he  is  wild  and 
wanton,  and  goeth  not  well,  and  in  a  slippery  place 
mitht  fall  headlong  :  even  so,  if  our  Creator  should 
giv"^  us  too  large  liberty,  we  should  soon  wax  wild  ; 
arh-l  J.  might  happen  that  we  should  destroy  our- 
selves ;  therefore  He  giveth  us  a  sharp  bit  in  our 
mouths,  and  helpeth  us  to  bridle  our  flesh,  that  the 
noble  and  precious  soul  perish  not. 

Again,  as  the  carter  jerketh  his  horses  with  tht 
whip,  and  striketh  them  sharply  when  they  will  not 
go  forward,  and  yet  spareth  them  also,  that  he  may 
enjoy  them  the  longer ;  even  so  God  striketh  us 
when  we  do  not  right,  and  yet  spareth  us,  and  will 
not  make  utterly  an  end  of  us. 

—  Wermullerns,  155^' 

(68.)  If  a  sheep  stray  from  his  fellows,  the  shep- 
herd sets  his  dog  after  it,  not  to  devour  it,  but  to 
bring  it  in  again  ;  even  so  our  Heavenly  Shepherd, 
if  any  of  us.  His  sheep,  disobey  Him,  sets  His  dog 
of  affliction  after  us,  not  to  hurt  us,  but  to  bring  us 
home  to  consideration  of  our  duty  towards  Him. 
Now,  His  dogs  be  poverty,  &c. 

— Cawdray,  1 598-1644, 

(69.)  Afilictions  make  us  most  frequent  and  fer- 
vent in  pouring  forth  our  supplications  unto  God. 
In  our  prosperity  we  either  utterly  neglect  this  duty, 
or  perform  it  carelessly  and  slothfully  ;  but  when 
we  are  brought  into  calamities  we  flee  to  Him  hq^ 
earnest  prayer,  craving  His  aid  and  help.  And  aa 
the  child  fearing  nothing  is  so  fond  of  his  play,  that 


AFFLICTION. 


(     "     ) 


AFFLICTION. 


he  strays  and  wanders  from  his  mother ;  not  so  much 
as  thinking  of  her  ;  but  if  he  be  scared  or  frighted 
with  the  sight  or  apprehension  of  some  apparent  or 
approaching  danger,  presently  runs  to  her,  casts 
himself  into  her  arms  and  cries  out  to  be  saved  and 
shielded  by  her  :  so  we,  securely  enjoying  the  child- 
ish sports  of  worldly  prosperity,  do  so  fondly  dote 
on  them  that  we  scarce  think  of  our  Heavenly 
Father ;  but  when  perils  approach,  and  are  ready 
to  seize  upon  us,  then  we  flee  to  Him  and  cast 
ourselves  into  the  arms  of  His  protection,  crying  to 
Him  by  earnest  prayer  for  help  in  our  extremity. 
— Dowiiame,  1644. 
(70.)  Like  the  passengers  through  the  tunnelled 
Alp,  from  the  dark,  and  the  cold,  and  the  stifling 
air,  emerging  on  the  broad  light-flooded  plains  of 
Lombardy,  it  is  often  by  a  way  which  they  know 
not,  gloomy  and  underground,  that  the  convoy  is 
carried  which  God's  Spirit  is  bringing  to  the  wealthy 
place ;  and  your  present  grief  you  will  have  no 
reason  to  regret,  if  it  introduce  you  to  God's  friend- 
ship, and  to  joys  which  do  not  perish  in  the  using. 
It  may  not  have  struck  you,  but  you  have  been  try- 
ing to  create  your  own  Eden,  and  it  was  an  Eden 
with  the  living  God  left  out.  For  a  time  the  experi- 
ment seemed  to  prosper,  but  if  it  is  blighted  you 
have  no  right  to  complain ;  and  though  it  should 
never  blossom  again,  even  the  howling  wilderness 
does  you  a  service,  if  it  makes  you  a  pilgrim  and 
turns  your  face  to  the  better  land.  Affliction  is 
God's  message.  This  mighty  famine  is  no  accident : 
it  is  God's  voice  sounding  through  the  bare  country, 
and  saying  to  you,  Come  Home. 

— Hmnilton,  1S14-1861. 

4.  To  restore  us  to  spiritual  health. 

(71.)  The  surgeon  must  cut  away  the  rotten  and 
dead  flesh,  that  the  whole  body  be  not  poisoned,  and 
so  perish  :  even  so  doth  God  sometimes  plague  our 
bodies  grievously,  that  our  souls  may  be  preserved 
and  healed.  How  deep  soever  God  thrusteth  His 
iron  into  our  flesh.  He  doth  it  only  to  heal  us  ;  and 
if  it  be  so  that  He  kill  us,  then  will  He  bring  us  to 
the  right  life.  The  physician  employeth  poison  to 
drive  out  another  :  even  so  God,  in  correcting  us, 
useth  the  devil  and  wicked  people,  but  yet  all  to  do 
us  good. 

As  long  as  the  physician  hath  any  hope  of  the 
recovery  of  his  patient,  he  assayeth  all  manner  of 
means  and  medicines  with  him,  as  well  sour  and 
sharp  as  sweet  and  pleasant ;  but  as  soon  as  ever  he 
beginneth  to  doubt  of  his  recovery,  he  suffereth  him 
to  have  whatsoever  himself  desireth.  Even  so  the 
Heavenly  Physician,  as  long  as  He  hath  any  hope  to 
recover  us,  will  not  always  suffer  us  to  have  what  we 
most  desire  ;  but  as  soon  as  He  hath  no  more  hope 
of  us,  then  He  suffereth  us  for  a  time  to  enjoy  all 
our  own  pleasure  (Isa.  i.  5). 

—  Wermullerus,  1 55 1. 

(72.)  Such  is  our  natural  corruption,  that  we  are 
easily  made  wanton  with  the  fruition  of  God's  bless- 
ings. Therefore  the  Lord  is  after  a  sort  enforced  to 
correct  us,  that  by  sorrow  and  smart  He  may  bring 
us  to  know  ourselves,  and  to  remember  Him.  As 
the  wise  and  faithful  physician  is  constrained,  upon 
the  necessity  of  recovering  his  patient's  health,  to 
prescribe  to  him  abstinence  after  surfeiting,  and 
bitter  potions,  when  he  finds  his  body  distempered 
with  corrupt  humours  :  so  upon  the  like  necessity 
of  recovering  our  spiritual  health,  the  Lord  is  fain. 
when  we  surfeit  upon  His  blessings,  to  withdraw  i 


them  from  us,  and  to  appoint  us  a  shorter  diet; 
and  when  He  sees  our  souls  full  of  corruptions,  to 
give  us  these  bitter  potions  of  afflictions'  that  the 
poison  of  sin  may  be  expelled,  and  we  freed  fron 
the  danger  of  everlasting  death. 

And  as  in  these  regards  there  is  necessity  of 
sending  these  afflictions  in  respect  of  every  parti- 
cular faithful  man,  so  also  in  regard  of  the  whole 
Church  in  general.  For  as  it  is  never  more  spirit- 
ually poor  and  lean,  than  when  it  is  pampered  in 
worldly  pomp  and  prosperity ;  so  it  is  never  richer, 
or  in  better  liking,  than  when  it  is  outwardly 
pinched  with  misery  and  affliction.  And  as  by  too 
much  fulness,  it  falls  into  consumption,  and  by 
being  too  rank  is  easier  laid  with  every  storm  of 
temptation,  so  it  grows  fatter  by  fasting,  prospers 
better  when  it  is  bitten  and  snipped. 

— Downame,  1644. 

(73.)  Sickness  is  God's  lance  to  let  out  the  im- 
posthume  of  sin  (Isa.  xxvii.  9).     — Watson,  1696, 

(74.)  It  is  a  sword  which  pierces  the  heart,  and 
makes  the  corrupted  matter  flow  from  it. 

— Massillon. 

6.  To  test  our  character  and  Christian  profession. 

(75.)  By  trouble  will  God  prove  and  assay  how 
deep  thy  heart  hath  entered  with  God,  how  much 
thy  faith  is  able  to  bear,  whether  thou  canst  forsake 
both  thyself  and  all  other  creatures  in  the  world  for 
His  sake.  He  will  try  how  thou  wilt  behave  thy- 
selt,  when  He  taketh  utterly  from  thee  that  where- 
in thou  most  delightest.  God  knoweth  well  enough 
before,  how  thou  wilt  take  it  and  behave  thyself; 
but  He  will  show  and  declare  to  thyself  and  to 
others  also,  what  is  in  thee.  A  man  cannot  learn 
to  know  a  stout  man  of  war  in  the  time  of  peace, 
but  best  of  all  in  the  time  of  war.  When  a  great 
tempest  ariseth  in  the  sea,  then  doth  it  appear 
whether  the  shipmaster  be  cunning  in  ruling  the 
stern  or  no.  — Wermullerus,  155 1. 

(76.)  The  Lord  tries  us  with  afl3ictions,  to  make  it 
known  whether  we  be  sound  Christians,  or  whether 
we  deceive  both  ourselves  and  others  with  shadows 
only.  Our  Saviour  has  taught  us  in  the  parable, 
that  there  are  some  hearers  like  unto  the  stony 
ground,  who  receive  the  seed  of  the  Word  with  joy, 
and  bring  forth  a  fair  green  blade  of  an  outward 
profession,  but  yet,  having  no  root  in  themselves, 
when  the  hot  sun  of  affliction  shines  upon  thern, 
wither  and  fall  away.  That  these  time-serving 
hypocrites  may  be  discerned  from  true  professors, 
He  causes  this  sun  of  tribulation  to  arise. 

We  profess  to  be  gold  fit  for  God's  treasury,  and 
corn  meet  for  the  garners  of  eternal  blessedness ; 
and  yet  there  is  among  us  more  dross  than  gold,  and 
more  chaff"  than  wheat.  T'nerefore  the  Lord  casts 
us  into  the  furnace  of  affliction,  that  the  pure  metal 
may  be  tried,  and  in  trial  purified  ;  and  that  the 
drossy  substance  may  be  severed,  and  in  the  separa- 
tion consumed  :  and  fans  and  winnows  us  with  th* 
strong  wind  of  tribulation,  that  the  chaff"  may  be 
blown  away,  and  the  pure  corn  remain  for  His  own 
use. 

We  profess  ourselves  trees  planted  by  God's  own 
hand  in  His  garden  of  grace,  and  houses  fit  for  His 
own  dwelling,  which  have  a  good  ground  and  sure 
foundation,  even  the  rock  Jesus  Christ :  whereas  it 
truth  there  are  many  plants  of  the  devil's  setting, 
which  have  no  other  hold  but  the  weak  and  short 


AFFLICTION. 


(    13    ) 


AFFLICTION, 


roots  of  camal  ends  and  worldly  respects,  which  are 
there  planted  by  Satan  to  hinder  the  growth,  to  suck 
away  the  nourishment,  and  to  shade  and  annoy,  dis- 
order and  disgrace  those  fruitful  and  choice  trees  of 
God's  own  grafting  ;  and  many  houses  which  are  not 
built  upon  the  rock  Christ.but  upon  thesandsof  human 
inventions  and  traditions,  upon  the  examples  of  their 
superiors  or  their  own  good  meaning  and  ungrounded 
superstition.  Therefore  the  Lord  causes  the  winds 
to  blow,  and  the  tempestuous  storms  of  troubles  to 
arise,  that  His  own  trees  may  take  the  more  deep 
rooting ;  that  those  plants  of  Satan's  setting  may 
be  overturned  and  rooted  up ;  that  the  temples  of 
His  own  erecting  for  the  habitation  of  His  Holy 
Spirit  may  by  their  standing  in  all  these  storms, 
approve  the  skill  of  the  workmaster  ;  and  that  these 
chapels  of  the  devil,  which,  being  gilt  by  hypocrisy, 
make  no  less  a  show,  may  be  overturned  and  utterly 
ruined. 

Finally,  we  profess  to  be  soldiers  of  the  Church 
militant,  fighting  under  the  standard  of  the  Lord  of 
Hosts.  Therefore  the  Lord  suffers  Satan  and  the 
world  to  assault  us  with  afflicuons  and  persecutions 
to  try  wliether  we  be  traitors,  who  upon  the  first 
encounter  will  join  with  the  enemy,  or  true-hearted 
soldiers,  who  will  live  and  die  in  our  Lord's  quarrel  ; 
whether  we  be  such  cowards  and  dastards  as  will 
presently  yield  at  the  first  onset,  though  before  we 
have  made  many  brags  of  our  strength  and  valour, 
or  such  courageous  and  magnanimous  spirits  as  will 
not  fly  back  one  foot  to  save  our  lives.  And  thus 
our  Saviour  tried  the  young  man  in  the  Gospel,  who 
though  he  seemed  at  the  first  sight  a  great  worthy  of 
undaunted  courage,  yet  when  our  Saviour  did  but 
speak  of  those  two  enemies,  poverty  and  the  cross, 
at  the  very  naming  of  them  he  was  discomfited,  and 
ran  away  (Matt.  xix.  16-22).     — Downavie,  1644. 

(77.)  Gold  is  both  the  fairest  and  most  solid  of  all 
metals,  yet  is  the  soonest  melted  with  the  fire; 
others,  as  they  are  coarser,  so  more  churlish  and 
hard  to  be  wrought  on  by  a  dissolution.  Thus  a 
sound  and  a  good  heart  is  easily  melted  into  fear 
and  sorrow  for  sin  by  the  sense  of  God's  judgments, 
whereas  the  carnal  mind  is  stubborn  and  remorseless. 
— HalU  1 1574-1656. 

(78.)  A  sanctified  person,  like  a  silver  bell,  the 
harder  he  is  smitten,  the  better  he  sounds. 

— Sum  nock,  1 6  73. 

(7Q.)  The  design  of  God  in  all  the  afflictions  that 
befall  His  people  is  only  to  tjy  them  ;  it  is  not  to 
wtong  tliem  nor  to  ruin  them,  as  ignorant  souls  are 
apt  to  think.  "  He  knoweth  the  way  that  I  take  ; 
when  He  hath  tried  me,  I  shall  come  forth  as  gold," 
says  patient  Job.  So  in  Deut.  viii.  2,  "  Thou  shalt 
remember  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy  God  led 
thee  these  forty  years  in  the  wilderness,  to  humble 
thee  and  to  prove  thee,  to  know  what  was  in  thy 
heart,  whether  thou  wouldest  keep  His  command- 
ments or  no."  God  afflicted  them  thus,  that  He 
might  make  known  to  themselves  and  others  what 
was  in  their  hearts.  When  fire  is  put  to  green  wood, 
there  comes  out  abundance  of  watery  stuff  that 
before  appeared  not ;  when  the  pond  is  empty,  the 
mud,  filth,  and  toads  come  to  light.  The  snow 
covers  many  a  dunghill,  so  does  prosperity  many  a 
rotten  heart.  It  is  easy  to  wade  in  a  warm  bath, 
and  every  bird  can  sing  on  a  sunshiny  day.  Hard 
weather  tries  what  health  we  have  ;  afflictions  try 
what  sap  we  have,  what  grace  we  have.  Withered 
leaves  soon  fall  oft'  in  windy  weather ;  rotten  boughs 


quickly  break  with  heavy  weights.  Afflictions  ar« 
like  pinching  frosts  that  will  search  us  :  where  w« 
are  most  unsound  we  shall  the  soonest  complain  ; 
and  where  most  corruptions  lie  we  shall  the  soonest 
shrink.  — Brooks,  1680. 

(80.)  Sharp  afflictions  are  to  the  soul  as  a  soaking 
rain  to  the  house  ;  we  know  not  that  there  are  such 
holes  in  the  house,  till  the  shower  comes,  and  then 
we  see  it  drop  down  here  and  there  ;  so  we  beforf 
did  not  know  that  there  were  such  unmortified  lusti 
in  the  soul,  till  the  storm  of  affliction  comes,  then 
we  spy  unbelief,  impatience,  carnal  fear,  we  see  it 
drop  down  in  many  places.  — iVaison,  1696. 

(81.;)  Every  man  will  have  his  own  criterion  in 
forming  his  judgment  of  others.  I  depend  very 
much  on  the  effect  of  affliction.  I  consider  how  a 
man  comes  out  of  the  furnace :  gold  will  lie  for  a 
month  in  the  furnace  without  losing  a  grain.  And, 
while  under  trial,  a  child  has  a  habit  of  turning  to 
his  father  :  he  is  not  like  a  penitent  who  has  been 
whipped  into  this  state  ;  it  is  natural  to  him.  It  is 
dark,  and  the  child  has  no  whither  to  run  but  to  his 
father.  — Cecil,  1743-1810. 

(82.)  A  man  who  swims  upon  bladders  is  apt  to 
conceive  that  he  could  easily  dispense  with  the  sup- 
port and  still  keep  his  head  above  the  waters  ;  nor 
is  it  easy  to  ascertain  what  resources  he  had  in  him- 
self for  swimming  until  the  artificial  support  is  with- 
drawn. Let  me  say  that,  by  way  of  making  trial  of 
His  children,  or  ascertaining,  or  rather  of  certifying 
to  themselves  (for  He  must  know  without  being  cer- 
tified) how  far  they  have  their  treasure  in  heaven, 
and  set  their  affections  on  things  above,  God  some- 
times removes  our  earthly  treasures,  and  withdraws 
one  or  more  of  the  swimming  bladders.  He  strikes 
perhaps  with  His  dart  some  friend  or  relation  who 
was  dear  to  us  as  our  own  soul,  and  to  whom  our 
affections  were  beginning  to  cleave  idolatrously. 

— Goulburn. 

6.  To  measure  tlie  progress  we  have  made  la 
the  Divine  Life. 

(83.)  As  we  are  tried  with  afflictions,  whether  webf 
true  Christians  or  no  ;  so  also  thereby  God  shows 
unto  what  measure  of  grace  we  have  attained.  For, 
as  when  we  are  winnowed  with  the  wind  of  afflic- 
tion every  small  blast  is  sufficient  to  drive  away  the 
chaff,  so  when  a  stronger  gale  blows,  there  is  a 
second  division  made  ;  for  howsoever  the  weakei 
and  stronger  Christians  remain  together,  as  it  wer« 
in  the  same  heap,  yet  when  any  strong  blast  of 
temptation  blows,  those  that  are  weaker  in  grace, 
like  the  light  corn,  fly  back,  whereas  the  strongei 
keep  their  place,  like  tlie  purer  wheat  and  weighliei 
grain,  with  undaunted  courage.  — Doivnaiiu. 

(84.)  By  afflictions  the  Lord  discovers  how  much 
we  are  weaned  in  our  afi"ections  from  the  world. 
For  as  the  grain  of  corn,  which  is  full  and  ripe,  is  no 
sooner  touched  with  the  flail,  but  presently  flies  from 
the  straw  ;  while  if  it  be  small  and  light  it  is  beaten 
out  with  much  more  difficulty  ;  but  if  it  be  alto- 
gether empty  and  unripe  it  remains  in  the  straw, 
and  is  cast  out  with  it :  so  those  who  adhere  to 
worldly  delights,  like  the  corn  to  the  ear,  if  they  be 
full  of  grace  and  ripe  in  godliness,  are  with  the  least 
touch  of  this  flail  of  afflictions  severed  from  the 
world ;  whereas  if  they  have  made  as  yet  small  pro- 


AFFLICTION. 


(    14    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


gress  in  holiness,  they  are  not  weaned  from  these 
worldly  vanities,  except  they  be  much  beaten  with 
many  crosses;  but  if  they  be  quite  empty  of  grace, 
then  they  in  tlieir  affections  stick  so  fast  to  the 
things  of  this  life,  that  though  tliey  be  never  so 
much  beaten  witli  tribulations,  they  cannot  be  dis- 
joined, and  so  are  rejected  of  God,  perishing  to- 
gether with  these  transitory  evils,  because  ll.ey  will 
not  be  divided  from  them.         — Doivnaiiic,  1644. 

7.  To  purify  the  people  ot  God. 

(85.)  Whilst  we  lie  at  ease,  we  become,  like 
standing  waters,  corrupt  and  noisome,  and  are  fit 
to  bring  forth  nothing  but  those  toatls  and  venomous 
serpents  of  sin  ;  but  when  we  are  stirred  and 
troubled,  or  have  a  passage  and  current  over  the 
sands  and  stones  of  aftliction,  then  are  we  purified 
from  the  slime  of  corruption,  and  attain  to  crystalline 
purity.  — Dmvname,  16^4. 

(86.)  God  says  by  His  prophet  to  His  sinful 
people,  "  I  will  turn  My  hand  upon  thee,  and  purely 
purge  away  thy  dross,  and  take  away  all  thy  tin," 
Isa.  i.  25.  With  which  consideration  Augustine 
comforts  himself,  because  his  tribulation  was  but 
his  purgation,  whereby  he  was  freed  from  the  dross 
of  sin.  For  which  purpose  the  Lord,  like  a  skilful 
goldsmith,  uses  the  world  for  11  is  furnace,  the 
devil  and  wicked  men  as  straw  and  fuel  to  maintain 
this  fire  of  affliction,  who  do  but  consume  them- 
selves whilst  they  purify  God's  elect,  like  gold,  from 
the  dross  of  their  corruptions.  — Dmvnanie,  1644. 

(87.)  Sharp  afflictions  are  a  fire  to  purge  out 
our  dross,  and  to  make  our  graces  shine ;  they 
are  a  potion  to  carry  away  ill-humours ;  they  are 
cold  frosts,  to  destroy  the  vermin ;  they  are  like 
the  north  wind,  that  dries  up  the  vapours,  that 
purges  the  blood,  and  quickens  the  spirits  ;  they 
are  a  sharp  corrosive,  to  eat  out  the  dead  flesh. 
Afflictions  are  compared  to  baptizing  and  washing, 
that  take  away  the  filth  of  the  soul,  as  water  does 
the  filth  of  the  body  (Matt.  x.  38,  39.)  God  would 
not  rub  so  hard,  were  it  not  to  fetch  out  the  dirt 
and  spots  that  be  in  His  people's  hearts. 

— Brooks,  1680. 

(88.)  Affliction  is  God's  flail  to  thresh  off  our 
husks  ;  it  is  a  means  God  useth  to  purge  out  sloth, 
luxury,  pride,  and  love  of  the  world.  "God's  fur- 
nace is  in  Zion,"  Isa.  xxxi.  9.  This  is  not  to  con- 
sume, but  to  refine  :  what  if  we  have  more  affliction, 
if  by  this  means  we  have  less  sin. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(89.)  Human  nature  is  very  much  like  some  ele- 
ments of  vegetation.  In  tapioca,  one  of  the  most 
harmless  of  all  articles  of  food,  there  is  one  of  the 
most  deadly  of  all  poisons  ;  but  the  poison  is  of  such 
a  volatile  nature,  that  when  it  is  subjected  to  heat  it 
escapes,  and  leaves  only  the  nutriment  of  the  starch. 
1  think  that  the  heart  of  man  originally  is  full  of 
poison,  but  that  when  it  is  tried  by  affliction,  little 
by  little  the  poison,  the  rancour,  the  virus  exhales, 
and  leaves  all  the  rest  wholesome  indeed. 

— Beecher. 

(90.)  Upon  a  glowing  fire  rested  a  crucible,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  lay  a  piece  of  gold.  More  and 
more  intense  became  the  flame  ;  hotter,  and  still 
more  heated,  grew  the  vessel — and  then  the  precious 
metal  melted,  till  it  trickled  like  v/ater. 

"  Unfortunate  creature  that  I  »m,  '.o  have  J^en 
cast  into  this  place  1 "  it  ciJod. 


'*  No  ;  not  unfortunate,"  replied  the  Furnace. 

"  Is  it  not  my  misfortune  to  be  such  a  sviTerer?" 
said  the  Gold. 

"  Not  your  misfortune,"  answered  the  Furnace. 

"  1  shall  certainly  be  consumed  1"  exclaimed  iha 
Gold. 

"  No  ;  not  consumed,"  said  the  Furnace. 

"  Alas  !  you  have  no  consideration  for  me,  surely  I'' 
observed  the  tried  Gold. 

"  I  am  truly  concerned  for  your  best  welfare," 
replied  the  Furnace. 

"Then  why  must  I  suflfer  this  agony?"  asked  the 
glittering  Gold. 

"  It  is  to  purge  away  your  dross,  that  you  maybe 
purer,  and  therefore  more  valuable,"  answered  the 
Furnace. 

"Oh!  when  will  it  be  ended?"  said  the  Gold, 
stirred  at  the  bottom  of  the  crucible. 

"  As  soon  as  possible  ;  but  not  a  moment  before 
the  good  purpose  is  accomplished,"  kindly  remarked 
the  P"urnace. 

"How  may  it  be  known?"  inquired  the  Gold, 
which  increased  in  brightness. 

"  Immediately  that  the  watchful  Refiner,  who  is 
sitting  by,  shall  see  His  face  reflected  in  you,"  re- 
plied the  Furnace,  "  at  which  instant  the  process  will 
end,  and  you  come  forth  the  belter  and  richer  for  the 
fire."  — BinuJen. 

8.  To  deyelop  and  display  tbe  fraces  of  God'a 
people. 

(91.)  If,  as  Chrysostom  affirms,  Satan  had  not 
pierced,  and,  as  it  were,  bored  holes  through  the 
body  of  Job,  with  all  those  plagues  and  punishments 
which  he  inflicted  upon  him,  the  bright  beams  of  his 
graces  would  have  been  hidden  within  him,  and 
would  not  have  shined  unto  us.  If  he  had  not  sat 
down  in  ashes,  we  had  never  come  to  the  knowledge 
of  his  spiritual  riches,  — Downat?ie,  1644. 

(92.)  If,  like  spices,  we  be  pounded  in  the  mortar 
of  affliction,  the  odoriferous  smell  of  our  spiritual 
graces,  which  before  were  scarcely  discerned,  now 
spreads  abroad,  to  the  comfort  and  refreshing  of  all 
that  stand  about  us.  And  whereas  if,  like  roses, 
we  grow  untouched,  we  do  but  for  the  present  semi 
forth  some  sweet  smell  to  those  who  are  next  to  us; 
contrariwise,  if  we  be  distilled  with  the  fire  of  aftlic- 
tion, we  shall  yield  sweet  waters  of  durable  comfort 
even  to  those  who  Te  far  distant,  and  to  such  as  live 
in  after  ages,  when  by.  report  this  sweet  odour  of  our 
fame  shall  come  to  them  (Phil.  i.  13,  14). 

— Downame,  1641. 

(93.)  {On  the  blowing  of  the  fire.) 

We  beat  back  -the  flame,  not  with  a  purpose  tc 
suppress  it,  but  to  raise  it  higher,  and  to  diffuse  it 
more. 

Those  afflictions  and  repulses  which  seem  to  be 
discouragements  are  indeed  the  merciful  incitements 
of  grace.  If  God  did  mean  judgment  to  my  soul, 
He  would  either  withdraw  the  fuel  or  pour  water 
upon  the  fire,  or  suffer  it  to  languish  for  want  of  new 
motion  ;  but  now  that  He  continues  to  me  the  means 
and  opportunities  and  desires  of  good,  I  shall  mis- 
construe the  intentions  of  my  God,  if  I  shall  think 
His  crosses  sent  rather  to  damp  than  to  quicken  His 
Spirit  in  me. 

O  God,  if  Thy  bellows  did  not  sometimes  thai 
breathe  upon  me  in  spiritual  repercussions,  I  should 
have  just  cause  to  suspect  my  estate.  Those  few 
weak  gleeds  of  grace  that  are  in  me  might  soon  go 


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(    15    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


out  if  they  were  not  thus  refreshed.  Still  blow  upon 
tliem  till  they  kindle,  still  kindle  them  till  they  flame 
up  to  Thee.  — //a//,  1 574-1656. 

^94.)  A  youth  who  had  a  lighted  link  in  his  hand 
being  offended  thereat  because  it  burnt  so  dark  and 
dim,  the  better  to  improve  the  light  thereof  he  beat, 
bruised,  and  battered  it  against  the  wall,  that  the 
wick  therein  might  be  spread  out,  and  the  pitch, 
with  other  combustible  matter,  which  before  stifled 
the  light  with  its  over-stiffness,  might  be  loosened, 
which  presently  caused  the  link  to  blaze  forth  in  a 
brighter  flame.  Thus  God  deals  with  our  souls  : 
that  they  may  shine  the  brighter  before  men,  lie 
buffets  and  afflicts  us  with  several  temptations,  to 
give  us  occasion  to  exercise  those  graces  which  other- 
wise would  lie  dormant  within  us  ;  and  such  cor- 
rections will,  in  fine,  greatly  add  to  our  spiritual 
life  and  lustre.  — I-ulUr,  1608-1661. 

(95.)  Grace  in  the  saints  is  often  as  fire  hid  in  the 
embers,  affliction  is  the  bellows  to  blow  it  up  into  a 
flame.  The  Lord  makes  the  house  of  bondage  a 
friend  to  our  grace  :  now  faith  and  patience  act  their 
part  ;  the  darkness  of  the  night  cannot  hinder  the 
brightness  of  a  star  :  so,  the  more  the  diamond  is 
cut,  the  more  it  sparkles  ;  and  the  more  God  alTlicts 
as,  the  more  our  graces  cast  a  sparkling  lustre. 

—  IViiison,  1696. 

(96.)  God  delights  to  see  grace  in  us  at  all  times  ; 
but  He  loves  not  to  see  it  latent.  He  desires  it  to 
be  in  exercise.  And  in  order  to  bring  it  into  exer- 
cise He  uses  the  instrumentality  of  suffering.  The 
leaves  of  the  aromatic  plant  shed  but  a  faint  odour, 
as  they  wave  in  the  air.  The  gold  shines  scarcely 
at  all  as  it  lies  hid  in  the  ore.  The  rugged  crust  of 
the  pebble  conceals  from  the  eye  its  interior  beauty. 
But  let  the  aromatic  leaf  be  crushed  ;  let  the  ore  be 
submitted  to  the  furnace  ;  let  the  pebble  be  cut  and 
polished  ;  and  the  fragrance,  the  splendour,  the  iair 
colours  are  then  brought  out : — 

•'This  leaf?    This  stone?     It  is  thy  heart : 
It  must  be  cru^lied  by  pain  and  smart. 
It  must  be  cleansed  by  sorrow's  a-rt— 
Ere  it  will  yield  a  fragrance  sweet, 
Ere  it  will  shine,  a  jewel  meet 
To  lay  before  ihy  dear  Lord's  feet." 

—  GotiTbiirn. 

(97.)  ^Vho  is  there  that  does  not  know  that  there 
is  a  joy  higher  and  more  stately  than  is  known  to 
our  ordinary  experience  ?  There  are  some  natures 
that  only  tempest  can  bring  out.  1  recollect  being 
strongly  impressed  on  reading  the  account  of  an  old 
castle  in  Germany  with  two  towers  that  stood  up- 
right and  far  apart,  between  which  an  old  baron 
stretched  large  wires,  thus  making  a  huge  /Eolian 
harp.  There  were  the  wires  susjiended,  and  the 
summer  breezes  played  through  them,  but  there  was 
no  vibration.  Common  winds,  not  having  power 
enough  to  move  them,  split,  and  went  through  them 
without  a  whistle.  But  when  there  came  along 
great  tempest-winds,  and  the  heaven  was  black, 
and  the  air  resounded,  then  these  winds,  with  giant 
touch,  swept  through  the  wires,  which  began  to 
ring  and  roar,  and  pour  out  sublime  melodies. 

So  God  stretches  the  chords  in  the  human  soul 
mhich  ordinary  influence  do  not  vibrate  ;  but  now 
and  then  great  tempests  sweep  them  through,  and 
men  are  conscious  that  tones  are  produced  in  them 
which  could  not  have  been  produced  except  by  some 
such  storm -handling.  — Beecher. 


(98.)  The  harp  holds  in  its  wires  the  possibilities 
of  noblest  chords ;  yet,  if  they  be  not  struck,  thev 
must  hang  dull  and  useless,  bo  the  mind  is  vestea 
with  a  hundred  powers,  that  n.ust  be  smitten  by  a 
heavy  hand  to  prove  themscxves  the  offspring  of 
Divinity. 

9.  To  prepare  our  hearts  for  the  reception  ol 
Divine  truth. 

(99.)  As  it  is  not  only  the  property  of  the  plough 
to  root  up  all  briers  and  weeds  out  of  the  arable 
land,  but  also  to  prepare  the  same  to  'eceive  the 
seed  when  it  shall  be  sown  upon  it  :  so  likewise  it 
is  the  quality  of  affliction,  not  only  to  root  out  of  the 
earthly  heart  of  man  all  the  weeds  of  concupiscence 
and  worldly  delights,  but  also  to  make  ready  his 
heart  and  soul  to  receive  the  wholesome  seed  ol 
Christ's  doctrine,  when  it  is  by  His  faithful  ministers 
preached.  — Cawdray,  1 598- 1664. 

(100.)  "Unaccountable  this! "said  the  Wax,  as 
from  the  flame,  it  dropped  melting  upon  the  paper 
beneath. 

"  Do  not  grieve,"  said  the  Taper,  "  I  am  sure  it 
is  all  right." 

"I  was  never  in  swch  agony!"  exclaimed  the 
Wax.  still  dropping. 

"  It  is  not  without  a  good  design,  and  will  end 
well,"  replied  the  Taper. 

The  Wax  was  unable  to  reply  at  the  moment 
owing  to  a  strong  pressure  ;  and  when  it  again 
looked  up,  it  wore  a  beautiful  impression,  the 
counterpart  of  the  seal  which  had  been  applied 
unto  it. 

"Ah!  I  comprehend  now,"  said  the  Wax,  no 
longer  in  suffering  ;  "  I  was  soffened  in  order  to 
receive  this  lovely  durable  impress.  Yes,  I  see  now 
it  was  all  right,  because  it  has  given  to  me  the 
beautiful  likeness  which  I  could  not  otherwise  have 
obtained." 

Afflictions  are  in  the  hand  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to 
effect  the  softening  of  the  heart  in  order  to  receive 
heavenly  impression.  Job  said  :  "  God  maketh  my 
heart  soft  "  (23,  16). 

As  the  wax  in  its  naturally  hard  state  cannot  take 
the  impress  of  the  signet,  and  needs  to  be  melted  to 
render  it  susceptible,  so  the  believer  is  by  sanctifiexl 
trials  prepared  to  receive,  and  made  tp  bear,  the 
Divine  likeness.  "  In  whom  also  after  tnal  ye 
believed  (says  the  apostle),  ye  were  sealed  with  that 
Holy  Spirit  of  promise"  (Eph.  i.  13).  "  Who  hath 
also  sealed  us,  and  given  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit  in 
our  hearts"  (2  Cor.  i.  22),  — Bowden. 

10.  To  prepare  us  for  greater  usefulness  and 
fruitfulness. 

(loi.)  If  the  gardener  cut  off  the  knobs  and  the 
crooked  boughs  from  the  trees  in  his  garden,  and 
loppeth  them  a  little,  yet  as  long  as  the  roots 
remain,  the  trees  are  never  the  wor.se,  but  wax 
nevertheless,  and  bring  forth  fruit  :  even  so  doth 
God  lop  and  hew  the  crabby  old  Adam  with  the 
cross,  not  to  the  intent  to  harm  us,  but  to  keep  us 
in  awe,  and  to  teach  us  godly  manners.  And  surely, 
as  long  as  the  root  of  faith  remaineth  with  us, 
though  we  be  spoiled  of  all  riches,  and  of  all  manner 
of  worldly  comfort,  yet  shall  we  bring  forth  good 
fruits  to  the  high  honour  of  God's  holy  name. 

—  Wermulkrus,  \^^\, 

(102.)  God's  ploughing  of  us  by  affliction  is  to 
kill  the   weeds  of  sin;   His  harrowing  ol   us  if  to 


AFFLICTION. 


(    i6    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


break  the  hard  clods  of  impenitency,  that  the  heart 
may  be  the  fitter  to  receive  the  seeds  of  grace ;  and 
if  this  be  all,  why  should  we  be  discontented  ? 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(103.)  God's  stretching  the  strings  of  His  viol,  is 
to  make  the  music  better.  — Watson,  1696. 

(104.)  It  is  possible  that  the  most  generous  of 
plants,  fixed  in  the  richest  soil,  and  visited  with  the 
most  benign  influence  of  sun  and  weather,  may  yet 
not  fructify  till  they  are  pruned,  and  rid  of  those 
superfluous  branches  and  suckers  which  steal  and 
intercept  that  sap,  which,  according  to  the  prime 
intention  of  nature,  should  pass  into  fruit.  And 
therefore  the  great  Husbandman  of  souls  takes  this 
course  with  His  spiritual  vines,  to  add  the  pruning- 
hook  of  His  judgments  to  the  more  gentle  manuring 
of  His  mercy.  — .S^«/y4,  1633-1716. 

(105.)  Creature  comforts  are  often  to  the  soul 
what  suckers  are  to  a  tree,  and  God  takes  off  those 
that  this  may  thrive.  — Rylaud. 

(106.)  Earthly  suffering  seems  to  weaken  men,  to 
discourage  them,  and  to  destroy  them  ;  but  the 
fact  is  that  it  does  not  really  destroy  or  weaken 
them.  That  part  in  us  which  suffering  weakens  is 
usually  that  very  part  which  ought  to  be  weakened. 

The  great  trouble  in  turning  flax  into  thread  or 
cloth  is  caused  by  that  which  gives  the  green  plant 
its  very  power ;  for  when  the  flax  is  growing  it 
needs  two  things  :  one  is  its  ligneous  or  woody 
structure,  and  the  other  is  its  gluten.  But  when  it 
has  grown  enough,  and  man  wants  it  to  make  gar- 
ments, to  furnish  the  queen  in  the  palace  and  the 
peasant  in  the  cottage,  he  must  get  rid  of  these  two 
things.  And  how  is  the  flax  separated  from  them  ? 
It  is  plucked  and  thrown  into  the  field,  that  under 
the  influence  of  repeated  rains  and  dews,  the  wood 
may  rot ;  then  the  flax  is  taken  and  put  through 
the  brakes  until  every  particle  of  the  stiffness  and 
strength  that  it  had  is  destroyed,  and  all  but  the 
stringy  fibres  can  be  shaken  to  the  winds  ;  then  it 
is  subjected  to  certain  cliemical  processes  by  which 
the  gluten  is  taken  away ;  and  not  till  then  is  it  in 
a  proper  condition  to  be  carried  to  the  spinning- 
wheel  and  the  loom,  and  manufactured  into  mate- 
-u'ls  for  use. 

So  it  is  with  men.  There  are  a  great  many 
^'i,:lities  which  they  need  up  to  a  certain  point, 
Lut  which  beyond  that  are  a  disadvantage  to  them. 
We  need  a  given  amount  of  self-will  and  independ- 
ence ;  but  after  these  qualities  have  been  carried  to 
a  certain  point,  the  necessity  for  them  measurably 
ceases,  and  there  must  be  superinduced  on  them 
opposite  qualities.  For  man  is  made  up  of  con- 
traries, lie  is  to  be  as  firm  as  iron,  and  as  yield- 
ing as  silk  ;  he  is  to  be  persevering,  and  yet  the 
most  ready  to  give  up  ;  he  is  to  be  as  steadfast  as 
a  mountain,  and  yet  easy  to  be  entreated  ;  he  is  to 
abhor  evil,  and  yet  to  love  with  an  ineflhljle  love  ; 
he  is  to  be  courageous,  and  yet  to  have  that  fear  of 
the  Lord  which  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  Cer- 
tain qualities,  when  they  have  served  their  purpose, 
must  give  place  to  opposite  qualities.  Afflictions, 
under  the  supervision  of  Divine  Providence,  are 
working  out  in  those  that  are  exercised  thereby 
beneficial  results ;  so  that  suffering,  while  it  seems 
frequently  to  be  wasting  and  destroying  men,  is 
only  wasting  and  destroying  that  part  of  them 
which  they  are  better  without   han  with. 

— Betcher. 


(107.)  An  inexperienced  young  miser,  we  will 
suppose,  inherits  ihe  Almaden  mine.  Great  heaps 
of  ore  are  thrown  out,  and  he  goes  and  looks  at  it, 
and  says,  "  I  am  a  mountain  rich."  He  gives 
directions  to  have  this  ore  prepared  for  market 
The  labourers  take  it  and  throw  it  into  the  furnace ; 
and  he  watches  the  process  with  greedy  eye,  say- 
ing, "  What  !  putting  my  precious  silver  in  the 
fire?"  And  it  begins  to  melt,  and  flow  out,  and 
grow  less  and  less  ;  he  is  appalled  to  see  how  it  ij 
wasting  away.  But  the  men  that  smelt  it  laugh, 
and  say,  "  You  have  lost  nothing  ;  you  have  gained 
by  as  much  as  it  has  shrunk ;  for  it  was  nothing 
but  ore,  and  nine-tenths  of  it  was  good  for  nothing, 
and  that  which  was  good  was  so  tied  up  that  it 
could  not  serve  you  at  all.  It  was  necessary  that 
you  should  lose  nine-tenths  of  it  in  order  that  you 
might  have  the  benefit  of  the  other  tenth." 

In  this  life,  that  which  seems  to  men  to  be  wasted 
and  destroyed,  is  frequently  that  which  they  can 
better  afford  to  lose  than  to  keep.  — Bedcher, 

(108.)  What  can  diflTer  more  than  the  aspect  of 
the  on-corning  and  the  whole  phenomenon  of  a 
summer's  rain,  and  its  actual  after  results?  The 
sun  goes  out.  Birds  cease  their  singing.  Low  and 
terrific  sounds  and  voices,  vengeful  thunders,  are 
in  the  air.  Great  winds  come  as  avant-coweurs, 
sweeping  onward,  and  causing  the  trees  to  groan 
and  writhe  as  if  in  pain.  Weakly  leaves  are 
shreded  off  and  hurled  hither  and  thither.  All 
beasts  hide  themselves.  Everything  looks  dark  as 
the  judgment  day.  Then  comes,  with  mighty  roar, 
the  outpouring  and  beating  rain,  that  still  further 
shreds  off  the  leaves,  and  tears  the  trees,  and 
beats  down  the  grass,  and  overwhelms  the  grain, 
and  dishelves  the  flowers.  In  the  midst  of  this 
storm  let  a  man  look  out,  and  he  will  sceptically 
say,  "Is  this  the  refreshment  of  Nature?  Is  this 
the  cup  that  is  put  to  the  lips  of  flowers  that  they 
may  drink  and  be  revived  ?"  And  yet  let  the  hour 
go  by  ;  let  all  its  gloomy  works  and  seemings  be 
swept  away  with  it ;  let  the  sun  re-appear  ;  let  the 
birds  begin  to  sing  again  ;  let  the  trees  shake  them- 
selves of  drops  of  rain  ;  let  the  grass  lift  itself  up 
once  more,  and  then  man  will  instinctively  praise 
God  for  that  which  before  seemed  to  be  only  a  pro- 
cess of  destruction.  The  storm  seems  to  have  gone  ; 
but  it  has  not  gone.  Those  things  which  at  first 
appeared — all  the  external  signs  of  fury — these  have 
passed  away  ;  and  now  the  storm  is  at  work  on  the 
root,  and  every  blade  of  grass  is  drawing,  and  evei-y 
tree  is  pumping,  and  eveiy  flower  is  drinking.  Who 
could  have  cleansed  the  air  as  that  breathing  wind 
has?  Who  could  have  swept  the  vapours  out  of 
the  heavens  as  that  tornado  has?  Who,  by  any 
appliance  of  human  skill,  could  have  watered  the 
acres  as  that  rain  has?  Who  could  have  given 
new  life  to  the  wasting  herbage  as  that  thunder- 
storm has,  which  went  tramping  through  the  valley 
and  the  wilderness  apparently  a  messenger  of  evil  ? 
One  hour  after  it  is  gone  all  things  silently  thani; 
God  that  one  hour  before  shuddered  and  trembled, 
and  said,  "  llast  Thou  forgotten  to  be  gracious?" 

So  it  is  witli  the  ministrations  of  suffering  and 
sorrow.  While  the  storm  pelts,  men  shrink.  While 
the  thunder  sounds,  they  slink  down.  While  the 
tempest  rages,  it  is  as  if  they  were  ruined.  But 
when  the  violence  abates  a  little,  they  begin  to  lift  up 
their  head,  and  to  perceive  that  it  was  not  all  dark, 
that  it  was  not  all  thunder,  that  it  was  not  all  beat> 


AFFLICTION. 


(    17    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


ing,  that  there  was  an  element  of  good  in  it ;  and 
giadually  tliey  learn  the  sweet  bounty  and  benefit 
that  God  meant  to  bestow  upon  them  by  afflictions. 

— Beecher, 
(109.)  When  trees  grow  so  that  their  branches  are 
mostly  on  one  side,  we  never  restore  branches  to 
the  deficient  side  by  cutting  the  opposite  side.  We 
cut  the  most  barren  side,  and  there  Nature,  in  seek- 
ing to  restore  what  we  cut,  drives  out  new  buds  and 
Dranches.  The  gardener  l<nows  that  where  he  puts 
the  knife,  there  will  follow  the  fruit  of  the  tree. 
And  blessed  are  they  whom  the  Heavenly  Husband- 
man prunes,  that  they  may  bring  forth  more  fruit, 
kf,  when  He  cuts,  there  is  a  bud  behind  the  knife  ; 
but,  woe  to  them  who,  being  cut,  have  no  bud  to 
grow,  and  are  more  disbranched  and  barren  for 
being  pruned.  — Beecher. 

11.  To  wean  us  from  tlie  world. 

(no.)  Two  lessons  principally  God  would  teach 
you  by  affliction  : — 

First,  1  hat  your  affections  bt  taken  off  from  earthly 
f^tsessions.  When  Israel  doted  on  Egypt  as  a 
pa.ace,  God  made  it  an  iron  furnace  to  make  them 
weary  of  it.  The  creature  is  our  idol  by  nature,  but 
infinite  wisdom  makes  it  our  grief,  that  it  may  not 
be  our  God.  When  children  fare  well  abroad,  they 
are  mindles;  of  home  ;  but  when  abused  by  strangers, 
they  hasten  to  their  parents.  The  world  is  there- 
fore a  purgatory,  that  it  might  not  be  our  paradise. 
As  soon  as  Laban  frowned  on  Jacob,  he  talks  of 
returning  to  his  father's  house.  Every  rout  the 
world  puts  us  to  sounds  a  retreat  to  our  affections, 
and  calls  off  our  heart  from  the  eager  pursuit  of 
these  withering  vanities. 

Secondly,  'I  hat  you  choose  the  good  fart  that  shall 
never  be  taken  Jrotn  you.  Man's  heart  will  be  fixed 
on  somewhat  as  its  hope  and  happiness.  God 
therefore  puts  out  our  candles,  that  we  may  look  up 
to  the  sun.  When  we  are  delving  in  the  earth  to 
find  content.  He  sends  damp,  purposely  to  make  us 
call  to  be  drawn  upward.  Till  the  prodigal  met 
with  a  famine,  he  regarded  not  his  father.  If  the 
waters  be  abated,  the  dove  is  apt  to  wander  and 
defile  herself;  but  when  they  cover  the  face  of  the 
earth  and  allow  her  no  rest,  then  she  returns  to  the 
ark.  — Sivinnock,  1673. 

(in.)  We  are  the  children  of  the  Great  King, 
but  we  were  sold  unto  slaveiy  before  we  were  born, 
and  we  know  not  the  estate  of  the  first-born.  As 
if  the  children  of  her  Majesty  should  sell  themselves 
into  slavery,  without  knowing  what  slaveiy  is,  in 
tbe  hope  of^  improving  their  condition  :  so  it  was 
with  God's  first-born  of  mankind.  By  their  birth- 
right they  had  dominion  over  all  powers  and  ele- 
ments ;  but  by  the  powers,  which  they  should  have 
held  captive,  they  were  taken  captive. 

Bitterly  as  her  Majesty's  children  would  feel  the 
change,  the  next  generation  would  have  a  very 
different  sense  of  it  On  hearing  what  their  original 
condition  was,  it  might  kindle  a  wish  in  them  that 
♦heir  parents  had  been  wise  enough  to  keep  their 
(tir'«t  estate.  To  the  later  generations  of  the  royal 
children  the  state  of  slaveiy  would  be  quite  natural. 
They  would  hardly  be  able  to  conceive  that  their 
normal,  or  original  natural  condition  was  so  widely 
diffet  ;nt  from  that  into  which  they  were  born. 
This  is  the  case  with  mankind.  They  are  a  late 
generation,  and  they  have  not  an  idea  of  what  their 
original  condition   was.     It  is  so  long  since   the 


glory  departed  from  them,  that  they  know  not  in 
what  their  royalty  consisted.  The  unnatural  is  be- 
come so  natural  to  them,  that  they  have  a  far  strongei 
inclination  to  remain  as  they  are,  than  to  undergc 
a  re-birth  in  order  to  be  restored  to  their  first 
estate. 

It  is  fortunate  that  this  strange  country  behave? 
so  ill  to  them,  or  they  would  never  inquire  for  the 
royal  home-lands.  It  is  a  good  thing  that  in  their 
new  and  fallen  condition  they  sicken  and  suffer.  It 
is  a  good  thing  that  the  elements  of  nature,  which 
have  got  the  mastery  over  them,  often  oppress  and 
scourge  them,  and  in  the  end  deprive  them  of  uli 
the  goods  which  they  have  lusted  after.  It  is  a  go<i(? 
thing  that,  in  this  cruel  house  of  bondage,  the  final 
recompense  which  the  powers  that  be  confer  oa 
their  devoted  slaves,  is  to  turn  them  into  dead  clay 
Were  it  not  for  hard  usage  the  foolish  slaves  wouk 
never  be  weaned  in  heart  from  the  land  of  Egypt. 

— Pulsford. 

12.  To  prepare  us  for  eternal  glory. 

(112.)  The  vessels  of  mercy  are  seasoned  witi 
affliction,  and  then  the  wine  of  glory  is  poured  in. 

—  IVatson,  1696. 

{113.)  "Oh  dear!  don't ;"  said  the  Stone  to  th« 
Chisel,  which  was  cutting  and  modelling  it  into  cer- 
tain forms  and  proportions.  "These  heavy  blowi 
are  very  terrible  to  bear ;  besides,  I  am  at  a  loss  ta 
imagine  where  the  necessity  is  for  my  being  sub- 
jected to  such  coarse  and  severe  treatment.  Oh 
dear  !  pray,  do  desist !  " 

"  You  are  intended  to  fill  a  place  in  yonder 
building,  which,  when  finished,  will  be  a  splendid 
mansion,"  answered  the  Chisel  with  another  sharp 
stroke. 

"Oh  dear!  worse  and  worse!"  cried  the  Stone 
shuddering  under  the  blow  which  struck  off  a  further 
rough  part.  "  But,  if  so  designed,  why  not  put  me 
into  my  place  at  once,  without  this  suffering?" 

"You  are  not  fit  for  it,"  replied  the  Chisel,  still 
going  on  with  its  work.  "  Don't  you  see  that  all 
the  stones  in  the  building  have  undergone  a  shaping 
process  ?  " 

"How  long  must  I  suffer  it?"  asked  the  Stone 
sorrowfully. 

"  Only  till  all  that  is  unsuitable  and  improper 
shall  be  removed,"  replied  the  Chisel,  "and  wlien 
made  meet  for  the  high  situation  you  are  to  occupy, 
you  will  be  added  unto  the  others,  and  be  as  beauii- 
ful  as  they." 

"To  insert  the  stones  in  their  roughness,  as 
taken  from  the  quarry,  would  be  an  incongruity  and 
moral  impossibility.  None  are  built  up  in  their 
natural  condition  and  without  preparation.  The 
plan  of  the  house  has  been  drawn  by  the  '  Wise 
Master  Builder ; '  unto  which  design  eveiy  part 
must  be  brought,  by  working  the  materials  into 
their  several  forms  and  dimensions,  which  are  then 
added  to  the  structure.  And  when  all  is  finished, 
the  topstone  will  be  brought  forth,  with  shoutings, 
crying,  Grace,  grace  unto  it ! "  (Zech.  iv.  7). 

How  many  "lively  stones  "now  fitting  for  the 
heavenly  temple,  unable  to  discover  the  design  and 
necessity  of  their  afflictions,  are  crying  out  under  lii» 
hand  of  the  great  Artificer,  "  Oh,  pray  spare  mt 
these  trials  ! — Remove  Thy  stroke  away  from  me  : 
I  am  consumed  by  the  blow  of  Thine  hand."  And 
to  how  many  need  the  Divine  assurance  be  given, 
"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now;  but  thou  shall 
know  hereafter."  — Bowden, 


AFFLICTION, 


(    18    ) 


AFFLICTION, 


(114.)  There  seems  to  each  individual  conscious- 
ness a  strange  adjustment  of  the  events  that  are 
happening  in  our  Hves  ;  and  every  day  we  see  things 
that  we  cannot  account  for;  and  men  will  never 
be  done  asking  about  mysteries  and  "mysterious 
providences."  There  is  no  reconciliation  apparently 
from  the  human  stand-point  for  conflicting  events. 
There  never  yet  was  found,  and  I  think  will  never 
be,  a  key  that  shall  solve  these  mysteries.  But  if 
you  teach  men  the  truth  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  is  fashioning,  not  our  outward 
life  (except  as  it  stands  related  to  the  more  glorious 
result),  but  the  inward  and  spiritual  life;  that  Christ 
is  not  working  for  the  results  which  appear  in  this 
life  alone,  but  for  results  which  shall  appear  in  the 
life  hereafter — that  reconciles  them ;  or,  if  it  does 
not  reconcile,  it  settles.  1  do  not  care  what  befalls 
you  ;  you  do  not  yourself  care  what  befalls  you,  so 
long  as  you  have  the  certainty  that  the  end  of  it 
shall  be  right.  Your  ship  goes  to  sea,  a  storm 
follows  it,  you  get  no  tidings  of  it,  yet  if  you  have 
confidence  in  her  crew  and  in  her  commander,  if 
you  are  sure  that  she  will  make  the  port,  it  matters 
very  little  to  you  whether  she  has  more  or  less  of 
stormy  voyage.  Storms  may  even  be  an  impetus 
and  a  help.  So  in  human  life.  Once  give  me  to 
believe  that  I  am  a  child  of  God,  that  my  Father's 
Spirit  has  reinhabited  my  soul,  that  all  that  is 
happening  to  me,  whether  seemingly  good  or  evil, 
is  the  working  out  of  a  higher  nature  from  my  lower 
one — once  let  me  believe  that  this  life  is  one  from 
which  there  is  to  come  a  spiritual  being,  and  that 
the  oppression,  the  raspings,  the  piercings,  the 
sorrows,  the  anguish,  the  disappointment,  the  ten 
thousand  inequalities,  the  rude  buffetings,  the  down- 
throws, and  all  the  events  which  are  happening 
to  me  here,  are  but  the  preparation  for  that  higher 
life,  and  its  development  in  me,  and  1  am  con- 
tent. 

Once  on  a  summer's  day,  I  went  with  my  brother 
to  extract  a  crystal  from  the  rock.  With  a  mighty 
sledge-hammer  he  vigorously  dealt  blow  after  blow 
upon  the  rock,  and  chipped  piece  alter  piece.  At 
last  the  top  of  the  crystal  appeared.  Then  one 
might  see  what  he  was  after,  for  it  had  not  shown 
upon  the  outer  surface  of  the  rock.  When  the 
crystal  appeared,  then  the  whole  strife  became  how 
so  to  break  the  rock  away  from  it,  and  how  so  to 
strike  the  rock  as  to  extract  the  crystal.  The 
rock  was  good  for  nothing,  the  ciystal  was  every- 
thing. The  soul  is  man  s  crystal,  and  the  body  is 
but  the  incasing  rock  that  holds  it.  God's  provi- 
dences are  smiting  upon  the  rock,  and  breaking  and 
cutting  it  away,  and  extracting  the  precious  crystal, 
which  is  worth  incomparably  more  than  its  setting 
in  the  rock.  — Bcecher, 

(115.)  When  T  see  Goc*  erpecially  busy  in  troublirrg 
and  tr)'ing  a  Christian,  I  know  that  out  of  that 
Christian's  character  there  is  to  come  some  especial 
good.  A  quarryman  goes  down  into  ttie  excavation, 
and  with  strong-handed  machinery  bores  into  the 
rock.  The  rock  says,  "  What  do  you  do  that  for  ?  " 
He  puts  powder  in.  He  lights  a  fuze.  There  is  a 
thundering  crash.  The  rock  says,  "  Why,  the 
whole  mountain  is  going  to  pieces."  The  crowbar 
is  plunged.  The  rock  is  dragged  out.  After  awhile 
It  is  taken  into  the  artist's  studio.  It  says,  "  Well, 
now  I  have  got  to  a  good,  warm,  comfortable  place 
It  last."  Ikit  the  sculptor  takes  the  chisel  and 
mallet,  and  he  digs  for  .he  eyes,  and  he  cuts  for  the 


mouth,  and  he  bores  for  the  ears,  and  he  rubs  it 
with  sandpaper,  until  the  rock  says,  "When  will 
this  torture  be  ended  ?"  A  sheet  is  thrown  over  it. 
It  stands  in  darkness.  After  awhile  it  is  taken  out. 
The  covering  is  removed.  It  stands  in  the  sunlight, 
in  the  presence  of  ten  thousand  applauding  people, 
as  they  greet  the  statue  of  the  poet,  or  the  prince,  or 
the  conqueror.  "Ah!"  says  the  stone,  "now  I 
understand  it.  I  am  a  great  deal  bettei  off  now, 
standing  as  the  statue  of  a  conqueror,  than  I  would 
have  been  down  in  the  quarry.''  So  God  finds  a 
man  down  in  the  quarry  of  ignorance  and  sin.  How 
to  get  him  up?  He  must  be  bored,  and  blasted, 
and  chiselled,  and  scoured,  and  stand  sometime 
in  the  darkness.  But  after  awhile  the  mantle  of 
affliction  will  fall  off,  and  his  soul  will  be  greeted 
by  the  one  hundred  and  fourty-four  thousand,  and 
the  thousands  of  thousands,  as  more  than  conqueror. 

— Talmage. 

IV.    WHY  IT  IS  "  GOOD  "  FOR  THE  LORlfS 

PEOPLE   TO  BE  AFFLICTED. 

1.  Because  it  cleanses  them  from  sin. 

(116.)  There  are  some  troubles  that  beat  us  right 
down  ;  and  there  are  some  troubles  that  afford  a 
stimulus  to  the  whole  mind,  and  lift  it  up  to  a 
higher  plane. 

Have  you  not,  in  the  great  hours  of  sorrow — not 
in  the  despairing  hours  of  sorrow ;  not  in  the 
degrading  hours  of  sorrow  ;  not  in  the  sordid  hours 
in  which  sorrow  drags  you  in  its  own  slime  ;  but 
in  those  hours  in  which  you  feel  that  you  are  a  son 
of  God  under  affliction,  that  this  world  is  not  your 
abiding  place,  and  that  your  home  is  the  eternity 
of  God — have  you  never,  in  those  hours,  felt  that 
the  world  to  come  was  opened  as  it  had  never  been 
before,  and  that  God's  glory  shone  as  it  had  never 
shone  before?  Have  you  never,  in  those  hours,  felt 
that  those  doubts  and  scepticisms  which  had 
pestered  your  mind  had  been  swept  away? 

In  the  sultry  insect-breeding  days  of  summer,  how 
insects  abound  !  Every  tree  is  a  harbour  for  sting- 
ing pests.  Wherever  you  sit  they  swarm  around, 
and  annoy  you,  and  destroy  your  peace  and  comfort. 
By  and  by  there  come  those  vast  floods  of  clouds 
that  bring  tornadoes,  and  that  are  thunder-voiced 
and  uj)  through  the  valleys  and  over  the  hills  and 
mountains  sweep  drenching  and  cleansing  rains. 
And  when  the  storm  has  ceased,  and  the  clouds  are 
gone,  and  you  sit  under  the  dripping  tree,  not  a  fly, 
not  a  gnat,  not  a  pestilent  insect  is  to  be  seen.  The 
winds  and  rains  have  driven  them  all  away. 

Has  it  never  been  so  with  those  ten  thousand 
little  pests  of  pride,  and  vanity,  and  envying,  and 
jealousy,  and  unlawful  desire,  that  for  days  have 
teased  and  fretted  you,  and  kept  you  busy  with 
conscience,  and  taste,  and  affection,  and  all  the 
higher  faculties,  until  God  sent  upon  you  some 
great  searching  sorrow,  some  overwhelming  trouble? 
There  was  that  babe  that  lived  in  your  heart ;  and 
He  laid  heart  and  babe  together  in  the  grave.  He 
subverted  your  household.  He  brought  on  you 
such  torrents  of  suffering,  that  it  seemed  as  though 
the  foundations  of  the  great  deep  were  broken  up. 
And  in  those  hours  He  graciously  sustained  you, 
and  lifted  you  up  toward  Himself,  so  that,  although 
you  suffered  unutterable  affliction,  you  felt  that  it 
had  cleansed  you  from  jealousies,  envies,  vanity, 
pride,  the  whole  swarm  of  venomous  and  stinging 
insects  ti;at  had  beset  you,  — Beedur, 


AFFLICTION. 


(     *9    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


2.  Bacause  In  It  God  reveals  Himself  most  fully 
to  them. 

(117.)  AfHictions  are  so  far  from  being  ground  of 
•discomforts,  that  they  are  rather  cordials  in  the 
issue,  because  they  advance  us  more  degrees  in  that 
knowledge  of  God,  which  is  the  means  of  eternal 
life.  We  often  learn  more  of  God  under  the  rod 
that  strikes  us,  than  under  the  staff  that  comforts 
us  (Ps.  cxix.  71,  72).  If  the  sun  should  perpetually 
shine  in  our  hemisphere,  how  could  we  understand 
Gods  workmanship  in  those  little  spangles  of  the 
heavens?  Though  the  night  hide  from  us  the 
beauty  of  the  sun,  yet  it  discovers  the  brightness  and 
motions  of  the  stars.         — Charnock,  1628- 1680. 

(118.)  God  chooseth  this  season,  to  make  the 
omnipotency  of  His  love  the  more  conspicuous.  As 
Elijah,  to  add  to  the  miracle,  first  causeth  water  in 
abundance  to  be  poured  on  the  wood  and  sacrifice, 
and  then  brings  fire  from  heaven  by  his  prayer  to 
lick  it  up  ;  thus  God  pours  out  the  flood  of  afiliction 
upon  His  children,  and  then  kindks  that  inward 
joy  in  their  bosoms  which  licks  up  all  their  sorrow. 
— Gtirnall,  1617-1679. 

(119.)  God  afflicts  us  for  our  profit,  that  we  might 
be  partakers  of  His  holiness.  The  flowers  smell 
sweetest  after  a  shower ;  vines  bear  the  better  for 
bleeding ;  the  walnut-tree  is  most  fruitful  when  most 
beaten  ;  saints  spring  and  thrive  most  internally, 
when  they  are  most  externally  afflicted.  Afflictions 
are  the  mother  of  virtue.  Manasseh's  chain  was 
more  profitable  to  him  than  his  crown.  Luther 
could  not  understand  some  scriptures  till  he  was  in 
afiliction.  The  Christ-cross  is  no  letter,  and  yet 
that  taught  him  more  than  all  the  letters  in  a  row. 
God's  house  of  correction  is  His  school  of  instruction. 
All  the  stones  that  came  about  Stephen's  ears  did 
but  knock  him  closer  to  Christ,  the  corner-stone. 
The  waves  did  but  lift  Noah's  ark  nearer  to  heaven  ; 
and  the  higher  the  waters  grew,  the  more  the  ark 
was  lifted  up  to  heaven.  Afflictions  lift  up  the  soul 
to  more  rich,  clear,  and  full  enjoyments  of  God. 
•'  Behold,  I  will  lead  her  into  the  wiliierness,  and 
speak  comfortably  unto  her"  {Hos.  ii.  14),  or  rather, 
as  the  Hebrew  has  it,  "  I  will  earnestly  or  vehe- 
mently speak  to  her  heart."  God  makes  afflictions 
to  be  but  inlets  to  the  soul's  more  sweet  and  full 
enjoyment  of  His  blessed  self.  When  was  it  that 
Stephen  saw  the  heavens  open,  and  Christ  standing 
at  the  right  hand  of  God,  but  when  the  stones  were 
about  his  ears,  and  there  was  but  a  short  step 
betwixt  him  and  eternity?  And  when  did  God 
appear  in  glory  to  Jaco'o,  but  in  the  day  of  his 
troubles,  when  the  stones  were  his  pillows,  and  the 
ground  his  bed,  and  the  hedges  his  curtains,  and  the 
heavens  his  canopy?  Then  he  saw  the  angels  of 
God  ascending  and  descending  in  their  glittering 
robes.  — Brooks^  1608-16S0. 

(120.)  The  presence  of  Christ  can  turn  a  dark 
night  into  a  night  much  to  be  remembered.  Per- 
haps it  is  time  to  be  sleeping  ;  but  the  November 
wind  is  out  ;  and  as  it  riots  over  the  misty  hills, 
and  dashes  the  rain-drift  on  the  rattling  casement, 
and  howls  like  a  spirit  distracted  in  the  fireless 
chimney,  it  has  awakened  the  young  sleeper  in  the 
upper  room  ;  and  when  his  mother  enters,  she  finds 
him  sobbing  out  his  infant  fears,  or  with  beating 
heart  hiding  from  the  noisy  danger  in  the  depths  of 
his  downy  pillow.  But  she  puts  the  candle  on  the 
table,  azd  sits  down  beaide  the  bed  ;   and  as   he 


hears  her  assuring  voice,  and  espies  the  gay  comfort 
in  her  smiling  face,  and  as  she  puts  her  hand  over 
his,  the  tear  stands  still  upon  his  cheek,  till  it  gets 
time  to  dry  ;  and  the  smoothing  down  of  the  panic 
furrows  on  his  brow,  and  the  brightening  of  his  eye, 
announce  that  he  is  ready  for  whatever  a  mot'ier 
has  got  to  tell.  And  as  she  goes  on  to  explain  the 
mysterious  sources  of  his  terror — "That  h.ii?.rse, 
loud  roaring  is  the  brook  tumbling  over  the  ct-/r.es  ; 
for  the  long  pouring  rains  have  filled  it  to  (.hi  very 
brim.  It  is  up  on  the  green  to-night,  and  had  the 
cowslips  been  in  blossom  they  would  all  h*ve  been 
drowned.  Yes  ;  and  that  thump  on  t/^e  window. 
It  is  the  old  cedar  at  the  corner  of  the  l.ruse,  and  as 
the  wind  tosses  his  stiff  branches,  they  bounce  and 
scratch  on  the  panes  of  glass  ;  and  if  'hey  were  not 
very  small,  they  would  be  broken  ir.  pieces."  And 
then  she  goes  on  to  tell  how  this  'ery  night  there 
are  people  out  in  the  pelting  bias^  while  her  little 
boy  lies  warm  in  his  crib,  inside  o;"  Jiis  curtaiiis  ;  and 
how  ships  may  be  upset  on  thf.  ''lecp  sea,  or  dashed 
to  pieces  on  rocks  so  steep  iha*  the  drowning  sailors 
cannot  climb  them.  And  ihci,  perhaps,  she  erds 
it  all  with  breathing  a  n^yther's  prayer,  or  he  di  .-^s 
asleep  beneath  the  cradl^-lijinn. 

And  why  describe  all  this?  Because  there  i^  so 
much  practical  divinity  m  it.  In  the  histor/  A  a 
child,  a  night  like  thit  is  an  important  night,  fur  it 
has  done  three  things.  It  has  explained  somf  things 
which,  unexplained,  would  have  been  a  rource  of 
constant  alarm — perhaps  the  germ  of  supf  r-jtition  or 
insanity.  It  has  taught  some  preciou',  lessons — 
sympathy  for  sufferers,  gratitude  for  rn.-rcies,  and 
perhaps  some  pleasant  thought  of  H'm  who  is  the 
hiding-place  from  the  storm,  aiid  t'lt:  covert  from 
the  tempest.  And  then  it  has  deepened  in  that 
tender  bosom  the  foundations  of  filial  piety,  and 
helped  to  give  that  parent  such  hold  and  purchase 
on  a  filial  heart  as  few  wise  mothers  have  ever  failed 
to  win,  and  no  manly  son  has  ever  blushed  to  own. 

Then  for  the  parallel.  "  As  one  whom  his  mother 
comforteth,  so  the  Lord  comforteth  His  people." 
It  is  in  the  dark  and  boisterous  night  of  sorrow 
or  apprehension  that  the  Saviour  reveals  Himself 
nigh.  And  one  of  the  first  things  He  does  is  to 
explain  the  subject-matter  of  the  grief — to  show  its 
real  nature  and  amount.  "It  is  but  a  light  afiliction. 
It  lasts  but  for  a  moment.  It  is  a  false  alarm.  It 
is  only  the  rain-drift  on  the  window — wait  till  the 
day  dawns  and  shadows  flee  away.  Wait  till  morn- 
ing, and  you  will  see  the  whole  extent  of  it."  And 
then  the  next  thing  that  He  does  is  to  teach  some 
useful  lesson.  And  during  those  quiet  hours,  when 
the  heart  is  soft,  the  Saviour's  lessons  sink  deep. 
And  last  of  all,  besides  consolation  under  the  trial 
and  peaceful  fruits  that  follow  it,  by  this  comforting 
visit,  the  Saviour  unspeakably  endears  Himself  to 
that  soul.  Paul  and  Silas  never  knew  Christ  so 
well,  nor  loved  Him  so  much,  as  after  that  night 
which  He  and  they  passed  together  in  the  Mace- 
donian prison.  And  the  souls  on  which  the  Lord 
Jesus  has  taken  the  deepest  hold,  are  those  whose 
great  tribulations  have  thrown  them  most  frequently 
and  most  entirely  into  His  own  society. 

— Hamilton. 

(121.)  Affliction  brings  its  own  precious  com- 
pensations with  it.  Rich  issues  unfold  from  its 
seeming  poverty  ;  the  tearful  cloud  is  painted  with 
a  rainbow  ;  the  waste  lonesome  night  is  made 
cheerful  with  songs  and  radiant  with  stars ;  amid 
the   darkness  and  emptiness  of  earthly  scenes  the 


AFFLICTION. 


(    ao   ) 


AFFLICTION. 


glories  of  the  New  Jerusalem  shine  forth  with  a 
new  and  surpassing  lustre.  The  outside  of  a  stained 
glass  window  looks  dingy  and  unsightly  ;  it  has  no 
*ieauty  or  attraction.  And  so  the  coloured  windows 
of  pain,  sickness,  bereavement,  to  those  who  look 
at  them  from  without,  from  the  busy  street  of  the 
world's  pursuits  and  pleasures,  may  appear  gloomy 
and  uninviting.  But  within,  to  God's  true  chil- 
dren, worshipping  in  that  most  solemn  of  temples 
— the  temple  of  sorrow — where  all  earthly  clamours 
are  hushed,  and  all  hearts  are  awed  into  earnestness 
and  devotion,  what  a  grand  and  radiant  sight  is 
disclosed  by  these  windows  !  The  blue  sky  is  con- 
cealed, but  a  golden  glory  floats  around  :  the  sun- 
shine is  dim,  but  dimmed  into  the  radiance  of  ruby 
and  sapphire,  of  emerald  and  topaz  ;  the  common 
familiar  sights  of  earth  are  obscured,  but  painted 
in  hues  of  living  light  on  these  windows, — hues  that 
bathe  the  soul  with  their  splendour, — are  the  sub- 
lime scenes  of  the  life  and  death  of  the  Redeemer — 
scenes  well  fitted  to  hide  the  world  by  their  over- 
powering gloiy.  — Macmillan. 

8.  It  strengthens  their  faith  in  God. 

(122.)  The  Christian  through  trouble  is  made 
more  bold  and  hearty,  and  concludeth  with  him- 
self, more  than  ever  he  did  before,  that  God  hath  a 
special  consideration  of  those  that  are  in  trouble, 
and  will  graciously  help  and  deliver  them. 

Like  as  one  that  hath  sailed  oft  upon  the  sea, 
and  hath  been  sore  tossed  with  the  fearful  waves, 
is  afterwards  the  more  bold  to  go  unto  the  sea,  for- 
asmuch as  he  hath  ever  escaped  well ;  even  so  a 
Christian  man,  whom  the  cross  hath  oft  assaulted 
and  exercised,  forasmuch  as  he  hath  always  found 
comfort,  aid,  and  help  of  God,  afterward  he  trusteth 
God,  the  longer  the  more,  though  the  same  afflic- 
tion come  again  unto  him  that  he  had  before. 

David,  when  he  prepared  himself  to  fight  against 
the  valiant  giant  Goliath,  said  these  words:  "The 
I.ord,  which  hath  delivered  me  from  a  lion  and 
from  a  bear,  shall  deliver  me  also  from  this  Philis- 
tine" (i  Sam.  xvii).  And  again,  Paul  saith  :  "God 
hath  delivered  us  from  so  great  a  death,  and  de- 
livereth  us  daily,  and  we  hope  that  He  luill  deliver 
us  from  henceforth  also  "  (2  Cor.  i). 

—  IVermullencs,  1 5  5 1 . 

(123.)  Our  faith  receives  much  strength  in  our 
afflictions,  because  in  them  we  have  experience  of 
God's  truth,  both  in  His  threatenings,  in  that  for  our 
sins  He  has  inflicted  those  judgments  which  in  His 
Word  He  has  denounced,  and  also  in  His  promises, 
seeing  He  performs  all  that  He  has  undertaken,  not 
only  in  assisting  us  in  our  afflictions,  but  also  in 
delivering  us  in  due  time;  in  both  showing  His  in- 
finite wisdom,  omnipotent  power,  and  all-governing 
providence,  whereby  He  has  disposed  of  all  things 
to  the  best.  When  by  experience  we  find  that  the 
Lord  has  showed  us  great  mercy  in  crossing  our 
most  earnest  desires,  has  brought  to  us  much  com- 
fort out  of  our  greatest  calamities,  turned  our  fears 
and  dangers  into  security  and  joyful  triumph,  and 
has  made  the  whole,  which  in  swallowing  seemed  to 
devour  us,  to  be  a  means  of  our  deliverance,  then  is 
our  faith  marvellously  increased,  and  we  thereby  are 
enabled  to  endure  the  next  afflictions  with  much 
more  patience  and  contentment.  As  the  pilot  hav- 
ing escaped  out  of  many  storms,  and  the  soldier  out 
of  many  dangerous  conflicts,  are  so  heartened  thereby 
that  they  are  marvellously  courageous  when  tossed 
wiil-  tempests  and  assaulted  bv  enemies,  whilst  inex- 


perienced passergers  and  fresh  water  soldiers  tremble 
at  the  least  danger ;  so  those  who  have  been  exer- 
cised in  afilictions,  and  have  had  manifold  experience 
of  God's  mercy,  power,  and  love,  both  in  assisting 
them  in  their  troubles  and  in  delivering  them  out  ol 
their  greatest  dangers,  have  their  faith  in  God  hereby 
so  strengthened  that  they  are  much  more  patient  in 
afflictions  and  more  courageous  in  perils  than  those 
who  were  never  exercised  with  these  trials. 

— Downame,  1644. 

(124.)  The  purpose  of  suffering  is  never  to  be 
found  out  by  a  comparison  of  merits  among  neigh- 
bours, but  by  considering  how  it  draws  the  soul  in 
more  childlike  dependence  towards  the  Father.  By 
this  principle,  the  right-minded  and  well-meaning 
must  be  tried  quite  as  much  as  the  faithless.  Trials 
are  signs  of  celestial  favour,  seals  on  their  forehead, 
badges  of  favourites,  crowns  of  honour.  We  forget 
that  it  is  just  as  important  that  the  good  should  be 
made  better,  as  that  the  bad  should  be  reformed. 
Vessels  that  are  to  be  made  meet  for  the  Master's 
highest  uses  are  to  be  refined  in  the  furnace  seven 
times  heated.  We  must  learn  that  it  is  a  far  richer 
blessing  to  be  taught  what  the  feeling  of  the  Com- 
forter is,  and  what  peace  comes  from  self-renuncia- 
tion, than  to  go  through  life  in  any  holiday  dance. 
Just  as  the  wise  and  affectionate  mother  shows  her 
true  maternal  love  more  manifestly  when  she  causes 
her  child  to  cry  with  disappointment  by  snatching 
him  back  from  the  candle  he  grasps  at  as  a  flaming 
toy,  than  when  she  gives  him  the  costliest  plaything ; 
so  God  often  shows  a  tenderer  concern  when  He 
denies  us  health  and  riches  than  when  He  grants 
them — when  He  enfeebles  us  with  disease  or  poverty 
than  when  He  covers  us  with  flesh  or  fortune. 

— Huntington* 

4.  Because  it  makes  them  Aniitful. 
(125.)  Sharp  <"rosts  nourish  the  corn,  so  do  sharp 
afflictions  grace.  — Watson,  1696. 

(126.)  "What  beautiful  fruit  you  bear!"  said  a 
little  Flower  to  the  Vine  with  purple  grapes  in  the 
same  conservatory. 

"  I  am  very  truly  thankful  for  it,"  answered  the 
Vine  modestly. 

"  It  is  so  ornamental ;  and  besides  makes  you  so 
much  more  profitable,"  observed  the  little  Flower. 

"And  yet,  notwithstanding,  I  rebelled  against 
the  only  means  which  could  render  me  really  fruit- 
ful," replied  the  Vine. 

"  Then,  is  it  not  natural  to  vines  to  yield  fruits?" 
asked  the  little  Flower  with  some  wonder. 

"  I  confess  for  myself,"  said  the  Vine  humbly, 
"  that  though  I  produced  abundance  of  green  leaves, 
there  was  found  very  little  fruit  of  any  good  quality. 
— Vines  are  apt  to  degenerate." 

"  What  is  necessary,  then  ?"  inquired  the  Flower, 

"  With  proper  training,  careful  pruning,"  said  the 
Vine. 

"  What  is  pruning?"  asked  the  little  Flower. 

*'  Shortening  the  branches,  cutting  off,  and  taking 
away  all  that  would  only  run  to  waste,"  replied  the 
Vine.  "  Ah  !  it  was  against  that  use  of  the  sharp 
knife  that  my  nature  shrank  and  rebelled  !  It 
greatly  humbled  me  too ;  I  looked  so  shorn  und  so 
short  afterwards." 

"  And  what  then?"  asked  the  little  Flowei  deeply 
interested. 

"  Then,  after  awhile,  new  shoots  appeared,  which 
are  those  branches  now  bearing ;  but  still  the  knife 


AFFLICTION. 


(    21     ) 


AFFLICTION. 


is  often  required,  in  order  to  keep  down  a  running 
disposition,  and  to  strengthen  the  formed  fruit." 

*'  Very  wonderful  !"  said  the  little  Flower  in  ad- 
miration. "  But  who  would  have  thought  that  such 
severe  wounding  could  have  such  results,  and  become 
such  a  blessing  1 "  — Bowden. 

8.  Because  It  brings  out  their  graces  and  excel- 
lencies into  view,  to  the  glory  of  God. 

'127.)  What  place  should  we  then  have  for  pa- 
tience, submission,  meekness,  forbearance,  and  a 
readiness  to  forgive,  if  we  had  nothing  to  try  us 
either  from  the  hand  of  the  Lord  or  from  the  hand 
of  men.  A  Christian  without  trials  would  be  like  a 
mill  without  wind  or  water.  The  contrivance  and 
design  of  the  wheel-work  within  would  be  un- 
noticed and  unknown  without  something  to  put  it 
in  motion  from  without.      — Newton,  1 725-1807. 

6.  Because  it  establishes  them  In  grace. 
(128.)  We  cannot  be  established  except  by  suflTer- 
ing.  It  is  no  use  our  hoping  that  we  shall  be  well- 
rooted  if  no  March  winds  have  passed  over  us.  The 
young  oak  cannot  be  expected  to  strike  its  roots  as 
deep  as  the  old  one.  Those  old  gnarlings  on  the 
roots,  and  those  strange  twistings  of  the  branches, 
all  tell  of  many  storms  that  have  swept  over  the 
aged  tree.  But  they  are  also  indicators  of  the  depths 
into  which  the  roots  have  dived  ;  and  they  tell  the 
woodman  that  he  might  as  soon  expect  to  rend  up  a 
mountain  as  to  tear  up  that  oak  by  the  roots.  We 
Dust  suffer  awhile,  then  shall  we  be  established. 

— Spurgeon. 

T.  Because  it  makes  them  grow  in  grace. 

(129.)  Nor  would  our  graces  grow,  unless  they 
were  called  out  to  exercise  :  the  difficulties  we  meet 
with  not  only  prove  but  strengthen  the  graces  of  the 
Spirit.  If  a  person  were  always  to  sit  still,  he  would 
probably  wholly  lose  the  power  of  moving  his 
limbs ;  but  by  walking  and  working  he  becomes 
strong  and  active.  So,  in  a  long  course  of  ease, 
the  powers  of  the  new  man  would  certainly  lan- 
guish :  the  soul  would  grow  soft,  indolent,  cowardly, 
and  faint ;  and  therefore  the  Lord  appoints  His 
children  such  dispensations  as  make  them  strive, 
and  struggle,  and  pant.  They  must  press  through 
a  crowd,  swim  against  a  stream,  endure  hardships, 
run,  wrestle,  and  fight ;  and  thus  their  strength 
grows  in  the  using.  — Newton,  1 725-1807. 

(130.)  Many  of  our  graces  cannot  thrive  without 
trials,  such  as  resignation,  patience,  meekness,  long- 
suffering.  Some  of  the  London  porters  do  not 
appear  to  be  very  strong  men,  yet  they  will  trudge 
along  under  a  burden  which  some  stouter  people 
could  not  carry  so  well ;  the  reason  is,  they  are 
accustomed  to  carry  burdens,  and  by  continual 
exercise  their  shoulders  acquire  a  strength  suited  to 
their  work.  It  is  so  in  the  Christian  life  ;  activity 
and  strength  of  grace  is  not  ordinarily  acquired  by 
those  who  sit  still  and  live  at  ease,  but  by  those  who 
frequently  meet  with  something  which  requires  a 
full  exertion  of  what  power  the  Lord  has  given 
them.  — Newton,  1 725-1807. 

8.  Because  it  keeps  them  humble. 

(131.)  Poverty  and  affliction  take  away  the  fuel 
that  feeds  pride.  Now,  when  the  fuel  is  taken 
away,  the  fire  goes  out.     When  the  fodder  is  taken 


away,  wanton  steeds  that  grew  fierce  with  pamper* 
ing  grow  more  tractable.  So  it  is  with  man. 
Take  away  that  that  feeds  his  carnal  disposition, 
and  he  grows  tractable  and  gentle.  Thus,  thea 
affliction  and  poverty,  outward  in  our  condition, 
help  to  inward  poverty  of  spirit. 

— Sibbes,  1 577- 1 635. 

(132.)  Afflictions  do  us  good  likewise,  as  t}<ey 
make  us  more  acquainted  with  what  is  in  our  own 
hearts,  and  thereby  promote  self-abasement.  There 
are  abominations  which,  like  nests  of  vipers,  lie  so 
quietly  within,  that  we  hardly  suspect  they  are 
there,  till  the  rod  of  affliction  rouses  them  :  then 
they  kiss  and  show  their  venom.  This  discovery  is, 
indeed,  very  distressing;  yet,  till  it  is  made,  we  are 
prone  to  think  ourselves  much  less  vile  than  we 
really  are,  and  cannot  so  heartily  abhor  ourselves, 
and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes. 

— Newton,  1725-1807. 

9.  Because  it  teaches  them  true  wisdom. 
(133.)  As  prosperity  blindeth  the  eyes  of  men, 

even  so  doth  adversity  open  them. 

Like  as  the  salve  that  remedieth  the  disease  of 
the  eyes  doth  first  bite  and  grieve  the  eyes,  and 
maketh  them  to  water,  but  yet  afterward  the 
eyesight  is  clearer  than  it  was  ;  even  so  trouble 
doth  vex  men  wonderfully  at  the  first,  but  after- 
ward it  lighteneth  the  eyes  of  the  mind,  that  it  is 
afterward  more  reasonable,  wise,  and  circumspect. 
For  trouble  bringeth  experience,  and  experience 
bringeth  wisdom.  — Wermullents,  1551. 

(134.)  The  tears  of  sorrow  are  like  spiritual 
lenses,  showing  us  the  world  in  its  true  character 
as  a  poor,  empty,  unsatisfying  inheritance. 

— Macmillan, 

10.  Because  it  teaches  them  to  sympathise  wl'\ 
the  suffering. 

{135.)  By  these  afflictions  we  are  made  more  com- 
passionate unto  others  who  endure  the  like  crosses. 
Those  that  have  been  sick  are  apt  to  pity  those  mosi 
whom  they  see  pained  with  the  like  diseases.  Thost 
who  have  been  imprisoned  more  readily  compas- 
sionate, and  accordingly  help  and  relieve  those  who 
are  restrained.  They  who  have  been  pinched  with 
penury  and  pined  with  hunger  do  above  others  pity 
them  who,  being  poor,  want  food  to  feed  them  and 
clothes  to  cover  them.  And  this  was  one  end  why 
God  laid  upon  our  Saviour  Himself  so  many  afflic- 
tions, that  He  might  be  able  sufficiently  to  have 
compassion  on  them  that  are  ignorant,  because  He 
was  compassed  with  infirmity.  — Downame,  l6<]4. 

(136.)  The  story  goes  that  Harry  the  Eighth,  wan- 
dering one  night  in  the  streets  of  London  in  disguise, 
was  met  at  the  bridge-foot  by  some  of  the  watch, 
and  not  giving  a  good  account  of  himself  was  carried 
off  to  the  Poultry  Compter,  and  shut  up  for  the  night 
without  fire  or  candle.  On  his  liberation  he  made 
a  grant  of  thirty  chaldrons  of  coals  and  a  quantity 
of  bread  for  the  solace  of  night  prisoners  in  the 
Compter.  Experience  brings  sympathy.  Those 
who  hav  felt  sharp  afflictions,  terrible  convictions, 
rackmg  douDis,  and  violent  temptations,  will  be 
zealous  in  consoling  those  in  a  similar  condition. 
It  were  well  if  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  would 
put  unsympathising  pastors  into  the  Compter  of 
trouble  for  a  season,  until  they  weep  with  those  that 
weep.  — ^.  M.  2'aylor, 


AFFLICTION. 


(    aa    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


11.  Because  it  endears  the  promises  to  them. 
(137.)  ((9«  liearing  of  music  by  iitgkt.) 

How  sweetly  doth  this  music  sound  in  this  dead 
season  I  In  the  daytime  it  would  not,  it  could  not, 
so  much  affect  the  ear.  All  harmonious  sounds  are 
advanced  by  a  silent  darkness. 

Thus  it  is  with  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  The 
gospel  never  sounds  so  sweet  as  in  the  night  of  per- 
secution, or  of  our  own  private  affliction.  It  is  ever 
the  same ;  the  difference  is  in  our  disposition  to 
receive  it. 

O  God,  whose  praise  it  is  to  give  songs  in  the 
night,  make  my  prosperity  conscionable,  and  my 
crosses  cheerful.  — Hall,  1574-1656. 

(138.)  We  never  prize  the  precious  words  of  pro- 
mise till  we  are  placed  in  conditions  in  which  their 
suitability  and  sweetness  are  manifested.  We  all  of 
us  value  those  golden  words,  "  When  thou  'walkest 
through  the  fire  thou  shall  not  be  burned.,  neiiha- shall 
the  flame  kindle  upon  thre"  but  few  if  any  of  us  have 
read  them  with  the  delight  of  the  martyr  Bilney,  to 
whom  this  passage  was  a  stay,  while  he  was  in  prison 
awaiting  his  execution  at  the  stake.  His  Bible,  still 
preserved  in  the  libraiy  of  Corpus  Christi  College, 
Cambridge,'  has  tlie  passage  marked  with  a  pen  in 
the  margin.  I'erhaps,  if  all  were  known,  every  pro- 
mise in  the  Bible  has  borne  a  special  message  to 
some  one  saint,  and  so  the  whole  volume  might  be 
scored  in  the  margin  with  mementoes  of  Christian 
experience,  every  one  appropriate  to  the  very  letter. 

— Spurgeon. 

12.  Becanse  It  teaches  them  to  prize  their 
mercies. 

(139.)  Afflictions  when  sanctified  make  us  grate- 
ful for  mercies  which  aforetime  we  treated  with  in- 
difference. We  sat  for  half  an  hour  in  a  calfs  shed 
the  other  day,  quite  grateful  for  the  shelter  from  the 
driving  rain,  yet  at  no  otlier  time  would  we  have 
entered  such  a  hovel.  Discontented  persons  need  a 
course  of  the  bread  of  adversity  and  the  water  of 
affliction,  to  cure  them  of  the  wretched  habit  of 
murmuring.  Even  things  which  we  loathed  before 
we  shall  learn  to  prize  when  in  troublous  circum- 
stances. We  are  no  lovers  of  lizards,  and  yet  at 
Pont  St.  Martin,  in  the  Val  D'Aosta,  where  the 
mosquitoes,  flies,  and  insects  of  all  sorts  drove  us 
nearly  to  distraction,  we  prized  the  little  green  fel- 
lows, and  felt  quite  an  attachment  to  them  as  they 
darted  out  their  tongues  and  devoured  our  wonying 
enemies.  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity,  and  this 
among  them — that  it  brings  into  proper  estimation 
mercies  aforetime  lightly  esteemed.     — Spurgeon. 

IS.  Because  It  makes  them  long  for  heaven. 

(140.)  By  these  things,  likewise,  they  are  made 
more  willing  to  leave  the  present  world,  to  which 
we  are  prone  to  cleave  too  closely,  when  our  path 
is  smooth.  Had  Israel  enjoyed  their  former  peace 
and  prosperity  in  Egypt,  when  Moses  came  to  in- 
vite them  to  Canaan,  I  think  they  would  hardly 
have  listened  to  him.  But  the  Lord  suffered  them 
to  be  brought  into  great  trouble  and  bondage,  and 
then  the  news  of  deliverance  was  more  welcome ; 
yet  still  they  were  but  half  willing,  and  they  car- 
licJ  a  love  to  the  flesh  pots  of  Egypt  with  them 
into  the  wilderness.  We  are  like  them  ;  though  we 
say  this  world  is  vain  and  sinful,  we  are  too  fond  of 
it ;  and  though  we  hope  for  true  happiness  only  in 


heaven,  we  are  often  well  content  to  stay  longei 
here.  But  the  Lord  sends  afflictions  one  after 
another  to  quicken  our  desires,  and  to  convince  us 
that  this  cannot  be  our  rest.  Sometimes,  if  you 
drive  a  bird  from  one  branch  of  a  tree,  he  will  hop 
to  another  a  little  higher,  and  from  thence  to  a 
third  ;  but  if  you  continue  to  disturb  him,  he  will 
at  last  take  wing  and  fly  quite  away.  Thus  we, 
when  forced  from  one  creature-comfort,  perch  upon 
another,  and  so  on  ;  but  the  Lord  mercifully  fol- 
lows us  with  trials,  and  will  not  let  us  rest  upon 
any.  By  degrees  our  desires  take  a  nobler  flight, 
and  can  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  Himself; 
and  we  say,  To  depart  and  be  with  Jesus  is  best  ol 
all.  — Newton,  1725-1S07. 

(141.)    We    had    traversed    the    Great    Aletsch 

Glacier,  and  were  very  hungry  when  we  reached 
the  mountain  tarn  half-way  between  the  Bel  Alp 
and  the  hotel  at  the  foot  of  the  /Eggischorn  ;  there 
a  peasant  undertook  to  descend  the  mountain,  and 
bring  us  bread  and  milk.  It  was  a  very  Marah  to 
us  when  he  brought  us  back  milk  too  sour  for  us  to 
drink,  and  bread  black  as  a  coal,  too  hard  to  bite, 
and  sour  as  the  curds.  What,  then  ?  Why,  we 
longed  the  more  eagerly  to  reach  the  hotel  towards 
which  we  were  travelling.  We  mounted  our  horses, 
and  made  no  more  halts  till  we  reached  the  hospi- 
table table  where  our  hunger  was  abundantly  satis- 
fied. Thus  our  disappointments  on  the  road  to 
heaven  whet  our  appetites  for  the  better  country, 
and  quicken  the  pace  of  our  pilgrimage  to  the 
celestial  city.  — Spurgeon, 

14.  Because  it  will  sweeten  heaven  to  them. 

(142.)  There  is  no  exceeding  joy  or  triumph,  but 
some  sorrow  or  heaviness  goeth  before  it.  The 
spring-time,  following  immediately  upon  the  rough 
and  hard  winter,  is  the  more  welcome  unto  us. 

In  battle,  the  sorer  our  enemies  do  assault  against 
us,  the  greater  is  the  joy  and  triumph  at  the  over- 
throw of  them. 

He  that  hath  kept  his  bed  a  long  time,  and  lain 
sick  a  great  season,  afterward  when  he  is  recovered, 
health  is  a  more  precious  treasure  unto  him  than 
ever  it  was  before  that  he  felt  what  sickness  was ; 
and  also  such  as  mourned  for  his  sickness,  do  re- 
ceive an  exceeding  rejoicing  at  his  restoring  unto 
health  again. 

Even  so  doth  God  deprive  us  for  a  time  of  riches, 
wealth,  prosperity,  our  natural  country,  bodily 
health,  and  such  other  transitory  benefits,  for  this 
purpose,  that  when  He  giveth  them  again  unto  us, 
we  may  the  more  rejoice  and  be  the  gladder  of 
them.  —  Wertnullerus, 

V.    DUTIES  OF  THE  AFFLICTED. 
1.  Recognition  of  the  hand  of  God. 

(143.)  Xerxes,  having  received  a  loss  by  the  rage 
of  Hellespontus,  himself  more  mad  than  the  sea, 
caused  fetters  and  manacles  to  be  cast  into  the 
waters  thereof,  as  if  he  would  make  it  his  prisoner, 
and  bind  it  with  links  of  iron  at  his  pleasure. 
Darius  did  the  like  upon  the  rivei  Gyntles,  who, 
because  it  had  drowned  him  a  white  horse, 
threatened  the  river  to  divide  it  into  50  many 
streams,  and  so  to  weaken  the  strength  of  :t,  that  a 
woman  great  with  child  should  go  over  it  dry  shod. 
And  there  were  people  in  Africa  that  went  out  to 
fight  with  the  north  wind,  because  it  drove  heaps  oi 


AFFLICTION. 


(    23    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


•and  upon  their  fields  and  habitations.  Such  is 
the  madness  of  our  da^s.  If  we  be  crossed  with 
fair  or  foul  weather,  we  fall  a-cursing  and  banning, 
repining  and  murmuring  at  the  creatures,  like  a  dog 
that  biteth  the  stone,  and  never  looketh  after  the 
hand  that  tlirew  it.  We  cast  our  eye,  not  upon  the 
agent,  God,  but  upon  the  instruments.  His  creatures, 
wnich  cannot  do  us  the  least  harm  till  they  have  a 
commission  from  Him  so  to  do. 

— King^  1591-1669. 
2.  Self-Examlnation. 

(144.)  Lay  a  book  open  before  a  child,  or  one 
who  cannot  read  :  he  may  gaze  upon  it,  but  he  can 
make  no  use  of  it,  because  he  understandeth  nothing 
in  it ;  yet  bring  it  to  one  who  can  read,  and  under- 
standeth the  language  that  is  written  in  it,  he  will 
read  you  many  stories  and  instructions  out  of  it.  It 
is  dumb  to  the  one,  but  speaketh  to  the  other  In 
like  manner  it  is  with  God's  judgments.  As  St. 
Augustine  well  applies  it  :  all  sorts  of  men  see  them, 
but  few  are  able  to  understand  them.  Every  judg- 
ment of  God  is  a  real  sermon  of  reformation  and 
repentance  :  every  judgment  hath  a  voice,  but  every 
one  understands  not  this  voice — as  St.  Paul's  com- 
panions, when  Christ  spake  to  him,  they  heard  a 
voice,  and  no  more.  But  it  is  the  duty  of  every 
good  Christian  to  listen  to  the  rod  and  Him  who 
sent  it,  and  to  spell  out  the  meaning  of  God's  anger  ; 
to  inquire  and  find  out  the  cause  of  the  cross  and 
the  ground  of  God's  hiding  His  face — why  it  is  that 
He  deaieth  so  harshly  with  them,  and  carrieth  Him- 
self so  austerely  towards  them. 

— Gataker,  1574-1654. 

t.  Penitence  and  Humility. 

(145.)  It  is  God's  main  end  in  correcting  us,  to 
bring  us  by  His  chastisements  to  unfeigned  repent- 
ance ;  and  therefore  if  impenitently  we  continue  in 
our  sins,  we  cannot  wait  upon  God  for  help  and 
deliverance,  seeing  so  He  should  be  frustrate  of  His 
principal  end,  but  may  justly  expect  that  He  will 
double  and  rei^ouble  our  afflictions  until,  according 
to  His  purpose.  He  has  brought  us  to  repentance, 
unless  we  be  in  the  number  of  those  whom  He  gives 
over  as  a  desperate  cure,  reserving  them  for  ever- 
lasting condemnation.  So  Chrysostom  says,  that 
God  can  this  present  day  deliver  us  out  of  all  our 
afflictions ;  but  He  will  not  do  it  till  He  sees  us 
purged  from  our  sins,  and  our  repentance  not  only 
begun,  but  thoroughly  confirmed  in  us.  And  as  the 
goldsmith  will  not  take  his  gold  out  of  the  furnace 
until  he  sees  that  it  is  well  purified  from  the  dross, 
because  this  was  the  end  why  he  cast  it  in  ;  so  the 
Lord  will  not  deliver  us  out  of  this  furnace  of  afflic- 
tion until  the  dross  of  sin  be  by  our  repentance 
purged  away,  because  this  was  the  end  that  moved 
Him  to  cast  us  into  it.  — Downame,  1644. 

(146.)  If  .in  our  affliction  we  would  pour  forth  to 
God  such  acceptable  prayers  as  may  obtain  com- 
fort in  our  crosses  and  deliverance  from  our  cala- 
mities, we  must  confess  our  sins,  and  humbly 
acknowledge  that  we  have  not  deserved  God's 
V^iallest  benefits,  but  are  worthy  to  be  overwhelmed 
V  h  much  more  heavy  plagues  and  punishments, 
/^.id  so  the  Lord  will  excuse  us,  when  we  accuse 
ourselves  ;  and  absolve  us  from  punishment,  when 
in  all  humility  we  acknowledge  that  we  have  justly 
deserved  the  fearfullest  of  His  plagues.  For  if  we, 
who  have  but  a  little  inill<    of  mercy,  are  moved 


with  compassion,  when  either  our  sons  or  our  ser- 
vants humble  themselves,  acknowledge  their  faults, 
and  of  their  own  accord  offer  tliemselves  to  suffei 
that  punishment  which  they  have  deserved,  then 
how  can  we  doubt  that  God  will  be  pitiful  and 
ready  to  forgive  us  when  He  sees  us  thus  humbled, 
whose  love  and  mercy  towards  us  is  infinite  and 
incomprehensible  ? 

As,  therefore,  a  man  skilful  in  the  art  of  swim- 
ming, being,  through  casualty,  cast  into  the  sea,  and 
labouring  to  recover  the  shore,  does  not,  when  he 
sees  a  billow  approaching,  oppose  against  it,  be- 
cause it  would  cast  him  further  into  the  main  ;  hii 
weaker  force  being  far  too  feeble  to  withstand  the 
violence  of  the  mighty  wave  ;  but  stoops  and  dives 
under  it,  and  so  suffers  it  to  pass  over  him  without 
receiving  any  hurt.  So  when  we  see  the  huge 
billows  of  troubles  and  afflictions  raised  by  the 
stormy  blasts  of  God's  anger,  near  approaching  and 
coming  against  us,  it  is  both  vain  and  dangerous  to 
oppose  against  them  by  pride  and  impatience,  or  to 
imagine  that  we  can  withstand  them  by  our  strug^ 
gling,  murmuring,  and  repming ;  seeing  this  will 
rather  hinder  us  from  arriving  in  the  haven  of  safety, 
and  cast  us  back  into  the  depth  of  misery  ;  but  like 
these  cunning  swimmers,  we  must  dive  under  these 
waves,  which  it  is  impossible  to  withstand,  bearing 
our  burden  with  patience,  meekness,  and  humility, 
and  acknowledging  that  far  greater  pimisliments  are 
due  unto  us.  And  of  both  this  confession  and 
humiliation  we  have  notable  precedents  in  those 
excellent  prayers  of  Ezra  (ix.),  Nehemiah  (ix.),  and 
Daniel  (ix.) ;  as  also  in  the  speech  of  the  prodigal 
son  after  his  conversion  and  returning  to  his  father. 
— Dcauname,  1 644. 

(147.)  Labour  to  grow  better  under  all  your  afflic- 
tions, lest  your  afflictions  grow  worse,  lest  God 
mingle  them  with  more  darkness,  bitterness,  and 
terror.  As  Joab  said  to  David,  if  he  ceased  not  his 
scandalous  lamentation  on  the  death  of  Absalom, 
all  the  people  would  leave  him,  and  then  he  should 
find  himself  in  a  far  worse  condition  than  that  which 
he  bemoaned,  or  anything  that  befell  liim  from  his 
youth.  The  same  may  be  said  to  persons  under 
their  afflictions.  If  they  are  not  improved  in  a  due 
manner,  that  which  is  worse  may — nay,  in  all  pro- 
bability will — befall  them.  Whenever  God  takes  this 
way,  and  engages  in  afflicting.  He  commonly  pur- 
sues His  work  until  He  has  prevailed,  and  His  de- 
sign on  the  afflicted  party  be  accomplished.  He 
will  not  cease  to  thresh  and  break  the  bread-corn 
until  it  be  meet  for  His  use.  Lay  down,  then,  the 
weapons  of  warfare  against  Him  ;  give  up  yourselves 
to  His  will ;  let  go  everything  about  which  He  con- 
tends with  you  ;  follow  after  that  which  he  calls  you 
unto ;  and  you  will  find  light  arising  unto  you  in 
the  midst  of  darkness.  Has  He  a  cup  of  affliction 
in  one  hand  ? — lift  up  your  eyes,  and  you  will  see 
a  cup  of  consolation  in  the  other.  And  if  all  stars 
withdraw  their  light  whilst  you  are  in  the  way  of 
God,  assure  yourselves  that  the  sun  is  ready  to  rise. 
— Owen,  1616-1683. 

4.  Patience. 

(148.)  Whensoever  a  man  doth  give  a  light  pun- 
ishment unto  him  that  hath  deserved  much  greater, 
it  is  reason  that  he  take  it  patiently.  Wherefore, 
if  thou  yiifFer  adversity,  consider  with  thyself  after 
this  manner :  Well,  thy  manifold  sins  have  de- 
served a  thousand,  thousand  times  more  grievous 
punisimieut.  — WeriiiuUerus,  1551. 


AFFLICTION. 


(    34    ) 


AFFLICTION, 


(149.)  The  way  to  be  eased  is  not  struggling  with 
lA,  but  meekly  to  bear  it,  as  for  a  prisoner  to  be  free 
tirim  his  fetters  is  not,  in  the  jailor's  sight,  to  seek 
111  break  them  ;  that  is  the  way  to  procure  more,  or 
tJ-:  longer  lying  in  them.  So  to  be  eased  of  a  bur- 
drn  is  not  to  wrestle  with  it  when  one  is  under  it, 
Ibi't  to  go  softly  ;  there  is  more  ease  while  it  is  on 
hii  back,  and  sooner  comes  he  to  be  released  of  it. 
A  man  may  with  impatiency  wrestle  and  use  un- 
lavful  means  to  ease  himself,  and  God  haply  will 
let  him  prosper  for  awhile ;  but  after  He  will  bring 
a  more  heavy  and  inevitable  burden  on  him. 

There  is  a  fable,  but  it  has  its  moral  for  this 
purpose.  A  certain  ass,  laded  with  salt,  fell  into 
a  river,  and  after  he  had  risen,  found  his  burden 
lighter,  for  the  moisture  had  made  it  melt  away  ; 
whereupon  he  would  ever  after  lie  down  in  the 
water  as  he  travelled  with  his  burden,  and  so  ease 
himself.  His  owner  perceiving  his  craft,  after 
laded  him  as  heavy  with  wool.  The  ass  purposing 
to  ease  himself,  as  before,  laid  himself  down  in  the 
next  water,  and  thinking  to  have  ease,  rising  again 
to  feel  his  weight,  found  it  heavier  as  it  continued 
with  him  all  the  day.  The  moral  is,  that  they 
who  impatiently  seek  means  contrary  to  the  will 
iDf  God,  to  ease  themselves  of  their  burden,  shall 
tave  it  more  and  more  increase  upon  them. 

— Stock,  1 568-1626. 

(150.)  Afflictions  occasion  experience  of  God  and 
trial  of  grace,  and  are  a  part  of  God's  discipline  for 
the  mortifying  of  sin,  happy  opportunities  to  discover 
more  of  God  to  us  ;  yea,  there  is  more  reason  of 
submission  to  Him  in  these,  because  God  takes  us 
into  His  own  hands.  A  man  that  storms  when  a 
bucket  of  water  is  cast  upon  him,  is  patient  when 
wet  to  the  skin  with  the  rain  that  comes  from 
heaven.  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

(151.)  This  patient  submission  to  God's  will  in 
affliction  shows  a  great  deal  of  wisdom  and  piety. 
The  skill  of  a  pilot  is  most  discerned  in  a  storm, 
and  a  Christian's  grace  in  the  storm  of  affliction  ; 
and  indeed  this  submission  to  God  s  will  is  most 
requisite  for  us  while  we  live  here  in  this  lower 
region.  In  heaven  there  will  be  no  need  of  patience 
more  than  there  is  need  of  the  starlight  when  the 
sun  shines.  In  heaven  there  will  be  all  joy,  and 
■what  need  of  patience  then  ?  It  requires  no  patience 
to  wear  a  crown  of  gold  ;  but  while  we  live  here  in 
a  "alley  of  tears,  there  needs  patient  submission  to 
God's  will,  "  Ye  have  need  of  patience." 

—  Watson,  1696. 

{152.)  If  the  ground  of  your  heart  be  harrowed 
by  the  good  husbandman,  expect  in  patience  the 
abundant  harvest.  — Si.  Martlu. 

(153.)  A  consideration  of  the  benefit  of  afflic- 
tions should  teach  us  to  bear  them  patiently  when 
they  fall  to  our  lot,  and  to  be  thankful  to  heaven 
for  having  planted  such  barriers  around  us,  to 
restrain  the  exuberance  of  our  follies  and  our 
crimes. 

Let  these  sacred  fences  be  removed  ;  exempt  the 
ambitious  from  disappointment  and  the  guilty  from 
remorse ;  let  luxury  go  unattended  with  disease, 
and  indiscretion  lead  into  no  embarrassments  or 
■distresses  ;  our  vices  would  range  without  control, 
and  the  impetuosity  of  our  passions  have  no  bounds  ; 
every  family  would  be  filled  with  strife,  every  nation 
with  carnage,  and  a  deluge  of  calamities  would 
break  in  upon  us  v  hich  would  produce  more  misery 


in  a  year  than  is  inflicted  by  the  hand  of  Providence 
in  a  lapse  of  ages.         — Kobert  J  Jail,  1 764-1 331. 

(154.)  Did  you  ever  watch  to  see  a  stone-cutter 
carve  the  figures  that  were  to  decorate  a  temple  ? 
I  stood  once,  in  Paris,  where  the  stone  is  soft,  and 
where  the  building  blocks  are  cut,  not  on  the 
ground,  but  in  their  places  on  the  tops  of  the  doors, 
and  about  the  windows  ;  and  I  saw  the  chiselling 
done.  I  saw  the  work  going  forward  on  some  of 
the  public  buildings,  where  lions,  and  eagles,  and 
wreaths  of  flowers  were  being  carved.  Men  stood 
with  little  chisels  and  mallets,  cutting,  and  cutting, 
and  cutting  the  stone,  here  and  there.  Suppose 
one  of  these  blocks  of  stone,  when  it  first  mounts 
into  its  place,  is  told  that  it  is  to  be  a  royal  lion, 
and  it  is  to  decorate  a  magnificent  structure.  The 
workman  commences,  and  after  working  one  day 
the  head  is  rudely  shaped,  but  you  can  barely  tell 
what  it  is.  The  next  day  he  brings  out  one  ear. 
The  third  day  he  opens  one  sye.  And  so,  day 
after  day,  some  new  part  is  added.  The  stone 
complains,  and  asks  if  ihe  operation  is  to  be  an 
everlasting  one  ;  but  the  work  goes  on.  And  you 
cannot  get  anything  out  of  stone  except  by  myriads 
of  blows  continued  until  the  work  is  done,  I  hear 
people  say,  "Why  am  I  afflicted?"  For  your 
good.  "How  long  shall  I  be  afflicted?"  Until 
you  cease  to  ask  how  long.  Until  God's  work  is 
done  in  you.  God  will  go  on  chiselling  as  long  as 
it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  elaborate  first  one  feature 
and  then  another,  and  then  another.  The  work 
ought  to  go  on  until  it  is  completed.  And  every 
true  heart  ought  to  say,  "  Lord,  do  not  stay  Thy 
hand  ;  cut  away  until  I  am  brought  out  into  the  fair 
lines  and  lineaments  of  the  image  of  God."  Troubles 
and  afflictions  and  blows  that  are  sent  are  useless 
unless  they  make  you  patient  to  your  fellows,  ai« 
submissive  to  your  lot.  But  rest  assured  that 
you  love  God  all  things  will  work  together  for  yout 
good.  And  now  join  and  work  with  them.  Help 
God  to  work  for  you.  — Beecher. 

6.  Faith  In  the  Divine  goodness. 

(155.)  The  hour  of  affliction  is  an  hour  of  tempta- 
tion. Satan  loves  to  fish  when  the  waters  are 
troubled.  He  would  bring  us  to  hard  thoughts  of 
God,  by  the  hard  things  we  suffer  from  God. 
"  Touch  him,  and  he  will  curse  Thee  to  Thy  face." 
In  such  stormy  weather  some  vessels  are  cast  away. 
Faith  is  a  special  antidote  against  the  poison  of  the 
wicked  one.  It  can  read  love  in  the  blackest  char- 
acter of  Divine  dispensation,  as  by  a  rainbow  we  see 
the  beautiful  image  of  the  sun's  light  in  the  midst 
of  a  dark  and  waterish  cloud.    — Swinnock,  1673. 

(156.)  We  see  God's  judgments  pursuing  and 
overtaking  a  man  in  his  righteousness.  Let  us  not 
now  murmur  and  say,  how  can  God  justly  afflict  the 
upright  ?  But  let  us  acquiesce  in  the  rational  acknow- 
ledgment of  this,  that  God's  wisdom  may  outreach 
ours.  We  see  the  dispensation,  but  we  do  not  see 
the  design  of  it ;  and  therefore  let  us  suspend  our 
censure. 

If  we  should  see  a  goldsmith  cutting,  breaking,  or 
filing  a  piece  of  gold,  and  come  and  say  to  hiir, 
"Friend,  what!  do  you  mean  to  spoil  your  gold? 
Do  you  not  know  the  value  of  what  you  thus  cut  and 
file  away  ?"  What  a  ridiculous  question  would  this 
be  to  him,  who  knows  that  in  what  we  call  spoil  he 
pursues  the  rational  purposes  of  his  own  art,  tiaat  to 


AFFLICTION. 


(    as    ) 


AFFLICTTON. 


the  excellence  of  the  metal  he  may  also  add  the 
curiousness  of  the  figure.  I!ut  now  is  it  not,  think 
you,  much  more  ridiculous  for  such  blind,  silly  worms 
as  we  to  call  God's  works  to  an  account,  and  to 
censure  whatsoever  thwarts  our  humour  or  transcends 
jur  apprehensions  ?  — South,  1633-1716. 

•.  Resignation  and  self-committal  to  God. 

(157.)  As  learned  and  faithful  physicians  do  not 

Eromise  their  patients,  who  are  full  of  corrupt 
umours,  or  endangered  with  old  and  festered  sores, 
that  they  will  not  distaste  their  appetite  or  any  way 
molest  and  trouble  them,  but  only  that  they  will 
effect  the  cure,  and  to  this  purpose  use  both  the  best 
and  easiest  means  and  medicines  which  they  can  ; 
and  as  the  wise  patient  is  well  satisfied  with  this 
promise,  being  contented  rather  to  suffer  for  the 
present  a  little  smart  and  pain  than  to  hazard  his 
life  by  neglect  of  the  means,  or  to  have  his  sore  turn 
to  a  fistula  or  incurable  cancer.  So  the  Lord  does 
not  promise  that  we  shall  feel  no  smart  or  pain,  but 
that  He  will  cure  and  save  us  by  the  best  means 
which  will  stand  with  His  own  glory  and  our  good. 
If  we  would  have  our  prayers  heard  in  our  afflic- 
tions we  must  pray  for  that  which  God  has  pro- 
mised ;  not  absolutely  that  crosses  may  not  befall 
us,  or  being  inflicted  we  may  be  delivered  out  of 
them  ;  but  conditionally,  if  this  our  suit  will  stand 
with  God's  glory  ;  not  that  they  may  not  happen, 
but  that  they  may  not  hurt  us  ;  not  that  we  may 
be  quite  exempted  from  sense  of  pain,  for  this  per- 
haps would  hinder  the  cure,  and  cause  us  to  rot  in 
our  corruptions,  but  that  like  a  wise,  faithful,  and 
pitiful  physician,  He  will  handle  us  as  gently  as 
possibly  He  may,  so  as  in  the  meantime  the  meili- 
cines  used  may  be  effectual  for  the  purging  of  our 
corruptions  and  recovery  of  our  health. 

— Daivname,  1644. 

(158.)  While  we  fret  and  repine  at  God's  will,  do 
we  not  say  in  effect  that  it  is  better  for  us  to  have 
our  own  ?  that  is,  in  other  words,  that  we  are  wiser 
than  God,  and  could  contrive  things  much  more  to 
our  own  adv.antage,  if  we  had  the  disposal  of  them. 
Do  we  not  as  good  as  complain  that  we  are  not  taken 
in  as  sharers  with  God  in  the  government  of  the 
world?  that  our  advice  is  not  taken,  and  our  consent 
had,  in  all  the  great  changes  which  He  is  pleased  to 
bring  over  us?  These  indeed  are  things  that  no 
man  utters  in  words  ;  but  whosoever  refuses  to  sub- 
mit himself  to  the  hand  of  God  speaks  them  aloud 
by  his  behaviour  :  which  by  all  the  intelligent  part 
of  the  world  is  looked  upon  as  a  surer  indication  of 
man's  mind  than  any  verbal  declaration  of  it  what- 
soever. God,  perhaps,  is  pleased  to  visit  us  with 
some  heavy  affliction,  and  shall  we  now,  out  of  a 
due  reverence  of  His  all-governing  wisdom,  patiently 
endure  it  ?  or  out  of  a  blind  presumption  of  our  own, 
endeavour  by  some  sinister  way  or  other  to  rid  our- 
selves from  it  ?  Passengers  in  a  ship  always  submit 
to  their  j)ilot's  discretion,  but  especially  in  a  storm  ; 
and  shall  we,  whose  |)assage  lies  through  a  greater 
and  more  dangerous  deep,  pay  a  less  deference  to 
that  great  [jilot,  wlio  not  only  understands,  but  also 
commands  the  seas?  — Houth,  1633-1716. 

7.  Courage. 

(159.)  Howsoever  this  enemy  adversity,  and  those 
innumerable  troops  of  afflictions,  are  in  show  more 
terrible  llian  prosperity  and  those  glorious  forces  led 
under  his  conduct,  yet  they  are  much  weaker,  in 
truth,  and  less  dangerous  when  we  come  to  buckle 


with  them.  For  these  indeed  are  grim  in  thei*-  out- 
ward appearance,  but  not  so  fearful  w'-'ui,  har.ng 
experience  of  their  strength,  they  bt-„^me  familiar 
to  us  ;  like  those  barbarians  who,  when  they  wre 
to  fight  with  their  enemies,  painted  themselves  that 
they  might  appear  more  terrible,  whereas  in  truth 
they  were  weak  and  naked,  unable  to  endure  the 
first  onset.  For  so  these  atllictions  have  in  them  a 
painted  shadow  of  fierceness,  and  do  but  put  on 
them  an  ugly  vizard  to  make  them  full  of  terror  at 
their  first  appearing  ;  whereas  if  the  vizard  be  done 
away,  and  we,  ceasing  to  look  upon  them  through 
the  false  glass  of  fear  and  astonishment,  do  behold 
them  with  a  true  judgment,  we  shall  find  them  so 
easy  to  be  endured,  through  the  assistance  of  God's 
Spirit,  that  there  will  be  no  cause  of  terror  and 
amazement.  But  on  the  other  side,  those  enemies, 
prosperity  and  worldly  allurements,  hiding  hostility 
underpretenceof  friendship,  and  beingmuch  stronger, 
bring  us  into  a  pernicious  security,  and  without  show 
of  assault  get  the  victory. 

Afflictions,  like  bills  and  pikes,  make  a  terrible 
show  when  they  cannot  reach  us ;  but  the  tempta- 
tions of  prosperity,  like  unseen  bullets,  wound  and 
kill  us  before  they  are  discerned.  They,  like  the 
fiery  serpents,  sting  us,  but  with  sense  of  pain  make 
us  seek  for  remedy,  looking  up  to  the  true  Brazen 
Serpent  that  we  may  be  cured.  These,  like  the 
viper,  putting  us  to  no  pain,  bring  us  into  a  sweet 
slumber  of  security,  which  ends  in  that  deep  sleep 
of  death  and  condemnation.  They  wound  with  pain, 
and  enforce  us  with  torment  to  seek  recovery ;  these, 
with  delight,  making  us  to  love  still  the  weapons 
that  hurt  us,  and  to  abhor  the  means  whereby  we 
may  be  healed,  because  even  our  wounds  and  sores 
are  pleasing  to  us.  The  one,  like  the  wind  bois- 
terously blowing  upon  us,  makes  us  more  careful  to 
hold  fast  the  garments  of  God's  graces,  that  they  be 
not  taken  from  us  ;  the  other,  like  the  sun,  warming 
us  with  delight,  causes  us  of  our  own  accord  to  cast 
it  from  us.  — Dcnvitame,  1644. 

(160.)  How  sick  soever  a  man  be  v/ith  physic,  he 
is  not  afraid  of  dying,  because  he  considers  the  phy- 
sician in  wisdom  gave  him  what  now  occasioneth 
his  present  sickness.  No  more  should  we  be  dis- 
mayed at  the  bitterness  of  our  cup,  if,  with  Christ, 
we  did  but  take  notice  it  is  the  cup  that  our  Heavenly 
Father  hath  mingled,  and  hath  given  us  only  for  our 
correction,  not  confusion. 

— Ludcincus  de  Granada. 

(161.)  Let  us  make  a  right  judgment  of  afflictions. 
Let  us  not  think  God  intends  to  destroy  when  He 
begins  to  strike.  We  are  often  in  the  same  error 
the  apostles  were  in.  When  they  s».w  Christ, 
walking  upon  the  waves  in  the  dead  of  tie  night  and 
terror  of  a  tempest,  coming  to  succour  tliem,  they 
imagined  He  was  a  spirit  coming  to  mischief  them. 
The  flesh  makes  us  think  God  often  to  be  our  enemy 
when  He  is  our  friend.     — Ckarnock,  1628-1680. 

8.  Gratitude. 

(162.)  If  the  child  be  bound  to  his  father  in  all 
love  and  duty,  not  only  because  he  feeds  and  clothes 
him,  but  also  because  he  governs  and  corrects  him  ; 
not  for  the  blows  and  smarts  which  he  sustains,  for 
these  his  nature  abhor=.  but  for  his  care  in  reclaim- 
ing him  from  his  fa^Jis,  which,  being  nourished, 
would  m  imie  justly  disable  him  from  receiving  his 
inheritance. 

And  if,  being  grievously  sick,  we  are  content  tc 


AFFLICTION. 


(    a6    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


requite  the  physician  and  surgeon  for  their  distaste- 
fiil  potions,  their  sharp  corrosives,  cutting,  lancing, 
searing,  with  thanks  and  deserved  praise  ;  not  be- 
cause of  the  things  themselves,  which  for  the  present 
increase  our  pain  ;  but  because  out  of  tlieir  skill  they 
use  them  as  means  for  the  recovery  of  our  bodily 
health. 

Then,  how  much  more  are  we  to  be  thankful  to 
,  our  Heavenly  Father  chastising  us?  seeing  in  His  love 
and  care  He  hereby  reforms  us  of  our  sins,  and  so 
makes  us  fit  to  be  heirs  of  that  everlasting  patri- 
mony of  His  glorious  kingdom  ?  How  much  should 
we  magnify  this  Spiritual  Physician  of  our  souls? 
Not  for  the  bitter  potions  which  He  makes  us  drink, 
but  because  He  intends,  and  accordingly  effects,  our 
recovery  to  health,  and  that  not  the  health  of  our 
corruptible  bodies,  which  only  reprieves  them  to  the 
next  assizes  of  sickness,  but  of  our  precious  and  im- 
mortal souls  ;  not  such  as  is  momentary  and  tem- 
poraiy,  but  perpetual  and  everlasting.  It  is  not 
therefore  enough  Miat  we  take  these  great  benefits, 
which  God's  chuslising  hand  reaches  out  to  us,  with 
patience  ;  but  we  must  also  receive  them  with  praise 
and  thanksgiving  (i.  Pet.  iv.  16;  Col.  i.  11,  12). 
— Downame,  1644. 

(163.)  How  profitable  and  beneficial  a  thing  is 
affliction  ;  especially  to  some  dispositions !  I  see 
some  trees  that  will  not  thrive  unless  their  roots  be 
laid  bare ;  unless,  besides  pruning,  their  bodies 
be  gashed  and  sliced.  Others  that  are  too  luxu- 
riant, except  divers  of  their  blossoms  be  seasonably 
pulled  off,  yield  nothing.  I  see  too  rank  corn,  if  it 
be  not  timely  eaten  down,  may  yield  something  to 
the  barn,  but  little  to  the  granary.  I  see  some  full 
bodies  that  can  enjoy  no  health  without  blood- 
lettings. Such  is  the  condition  of  our  spiritual  part  : 
it  is  a  rare  soul  that  can  be  kept  in  any  constant 
order,  without  these  smarting  remedies  :  I  confess 
mine  cannot.  How  wild  had  I  run,  if  the  rod  had 
not  been  over  me  !  Every  man  can  say  he  thanks 
God  for  ease  :  for  me,  1  bless  God  for  my  troubles. 
— Hall,  1 574-1656. 

(164.)  Before  the  corn  be  ripened,  it  needs  all 
kinds  of  weathers,  and  therefore  the  husbandman  is 
as  glad  of  showers  as  sunshine,  because  they  both 
conduce  to  fruitfulness.  We  need  all  kinds  of  dis- 
pensations. — Manton,  1620- 1667. 

(165.)  There  are  bitter  mercies  and  sweet  mercies  ; 
some  mercies  Ciod  gives  in  wine,  some  in  worm- 
wood. Now  we  must  praise  God  for  the  bitter 
mercies  as  well  as  the  sweet  :  thus  Job,  "The  Lord 
gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord."  Too  many  are  prone  to 
think,  nothing  is  a  mercy  that  is  not  sweet  in  the 
going  down,  and  leaves  not  a  pleasant  farewell  on 
their  palate  ;  but  this  is  the  childishness  of  our 
spirits,  which,  as  grace  grows  more  manly,  and  the 
Christian  more  judicious,  will  wear  off.  Who,  that 
understands  himself,  will  value  a  book  by  the  gilt 
on  the  cover  ?  Truly,  none  of  our  temporals 
(whetlier  crosses  or  enjoyments)  considered  in 
themselves  abstractly,  are  either  a  curse  or  mercy. 
They  are  only  as  the  covering  to  the  book  ;  it  is 
what  is  writ  in  them  that  must  resolve  us  whether 
they  be  a  mercy  or  not.  Is  it  an  affliction  that  lies 
on  thee  ?  If  thou  canst  find  it  conies  from  love,  and 
ends  in  grace  and  holiness,  it  is  a  mercy  though  it 
be  bitter  to  thy  taste.  Is  it  an  enjoyment  ?  If  love 
doth  not  send  it,  and  grace  end  it  (which  appears 
when  thou  gn-wcst  vi  >rse  by  it),  it  is  a  curse  though 


sweet  to  thy  sense.     There    are   sweet  poisons   as 
well  as  bitter  cordials.         — Guriiall,  1617-1679. 

9.  It  Is  the  duty  of  the  afflicted  to  look  at  life 
as  a  whole. 

(166.)  Our  hours  of  misery  become  such,  because 
we  feel  them  singly,  and  apart  from  the  rest  of  life. 
But  we  know  not  what  those  shades  will  be,  when 
the  whole,  with  its  reliefs  and  lights,  is  seen  to- 
gether. The  minute  insect  which  moves  upon  '.he 
face  of  a  pictured  landscape,  as  upon  a  wide  and 
boundless  plain,  may  feel  itself  at  times  buried  in 
the  deepest  gloom  of  midnight ;  while  the  eye  that 
takes  it  all  at  once,  sees  in  those  dark  lines  the 
contrast  which  gives  effect  and  brilliancy  to  the 
general  design.  — IVoodward. 

(167.)  Though  it  be  not  in  our  power  to  make 
affliction  no  afiliction,  yet  it  is  in  our  power  to  take 
off  the  edge  of  it,  by  a  steady  view  of  those  Divine 
Joys  prepared  for  us  in  another  state. 

— Atterbury,  1663-1732. 

(168.)  There  are  many  scenes  in  life  which  are 
either  sad  or  beautiful,  cheerless  or  refreshing,  ac- 
cording to  the  direction  fiom  which  we  approach 
them.  If,  on  a  morning  in  spring,  we  behold  the 
ridges  of  a  fresh-turned  ploughed  field  from  theii 
northern  side,  our  eyes,  catching  only  the  shadowed 
slopes  of  the  successive  furrows,  see  an  expanse  oi 
white,  the  unmelted  remains  of  the  night's  hail- 
storm, or  the  hoar-frost  of  the  dawn.  We  make  a 
circuit,  or  we  cross  over,  and  look  behind  us,  and 
on  the  very  same  ground  there  is  nothing  to  be 
seen  but  the  rich  brown  soil,  swelling  in  the  sun- 
shine, warm  with  promise,  and  chequered  perhaps, 
here  and  there,  with  a  green  blade  bursting  through 
the  surface.  — troude. 

10.  To  seek  deliverance  by  the  use  of  all  ap- 
pointed means. 

(169.)  When  a  little  child,  that  can  scarcely  go, 
chanceth  to  stumble  upon  a  stone,  he  falleth  down, 
and  there  lieth,  crying  till  somebody  take  him  up. 
But  people  of  reason  and  understanding  must  not 
do  like  children,  but  must  endeavour,  what  sickness 
or  inconvenience  soever  happen,  so  far  as  is  pos- 
sible, to  remedy  it.  — WermulUrus,  1551. 

(170.)  Ordinary  means  are  not  to  be  contemned. 
Like  as  a  shipmaster  being  upon  the  water,  and 
foreseeing  a  tempest,  calleth  upon  God's  help  ;  and 
yet  hath  also  a  sure  eye  to  the  stern,  to  rule  that  as 
handsomely  and  cunningly  as  he  can  (Acts  xxvii). 
Even  so  in  all  manner  of  necessities  and  perils,  it  is 
lawful  to  use  all  manner  of  honest  and  convenient 
means  ;  as  medicines  in  sickness  ;  labour  in  poverty  ; 
the  power  and  authority  of  the  magistrate  in  wrong  ; 
battle  array  against  the  enemies  of  our  country,  and 
such  like  :  so  that  no  man  build  nor  trust  in  any 
manner  of  thing,  saving  in  the  very  living  God 
only,  who  can  help,  deliver,  and  remedy  all 
things,  without  any  middle  or  mean,  if  there  were 
none  at  hand.  — Wcrmullerus,  1 55 1. 

11.  But  they  ftre  not  to  seek  comfort  In  worldly 
things. 

(171.)  Whosoever  followeth  but  man's  reason  to 
teach  comfort  to  the  troubled  mind  can  give  but  a 
counterfeit  medicine  ;  as  the  surgeon  doth,  which 
colourably  healeth,  or  the  physician  which  giveth 
medicines    that   do    but   astonish    the    sore    places 


AFFLICTION. 


(    27    ^ 


AFFLICTION. 


and  so  deceive  the  patient.  But  the  true  healing 
of  sorrow  they  had  not,  for  they  lacked  the  ground  ; 
they  lacked  that  that  should  heal  the  sore  at  the 
bone  first,  that  is,  true  faith  in  Christ  and  His  holy 
Word.  All  medicines  of  the  soul,  which  be  laid  on 
the  sores  thereof,  not  having  that  cleanser  with 
them,  he  but  over-healers :  tliey  do  not  take  away 
tlie  lankHng  uilhin  ;  and  many  times,  under  colour 
of  hasty  licclinL;,  they  bring  forth  proud  (lesh  in  the 
sore,  as  evil  or  worse  than  that  which  was  fust 
corrupt  — IVeriinillcnis,  I551- 

12.  Nor  unduly  to  depend  on  buraan  aid. 

(172.)  hi.  a  passenger  in  a  storm  that,  for  shelter 
against  the  weather,  betaketh  him  to  a  fair  spread 
oak,  standi'th  under  the  boughs,  and  findeth  good 
relief  thereby  for  the  space  of  some  time,  till  at 
length  Cometh  a  sudden  gust  of  wind,  that  teareth 
down  a  main  arm  of  it,  which,  falling  upon  the  poor 
passenger,  maimeth  him  that  resorted  to  it  for  suc- 
cour ;  thus  falleth  it  out  not  with  a  few,  meeting  in 
the  world  with  many  troubles,  they  step  aside  out  of 
their  own  way,  and  too  often  out  of  God's,  to  get 
under  the  wing  of  some  great  one,  and  gain,  it  may 
be,  some  aid  and  shelter  thereby  for  a  season,  but 
after  awhile  that  great  one  himself,  falling  from  his 
former  height  of  favour  or  honour,  they  are  also 
called  in  question,  and  so  fall  together  with  him, 
that  might  otherwise  have  stood  long  enouigh  on 
their  own  legs,  if  they  had  not  trusted  to  such  an 
arm  of  flesh,  such  a  broken  staff,  that  deceived  them. 
—  Ca.'aker,  15  74- 1 654. 

IS.  Nor  to  seek  relief  by  sinful  methods. 

(173.)  Turn  a  four-cornered  stone  how  thou  wilt, 
and  it  will  always  stand  right  up;  even  so,  howso- 
ever a  right  Christian  be  tempted  and  assaulted,  he 
will  ever  notwithstanding  remain  upright. 

—  /  Venn  ullertis,  1 5  5  *  • 

(174.)  A  man  that  is  unskilful  in  swimming,  hav- 
ing ventured  past  his  depth,  hastily  and  inconside- 
rately catcheth  at  what  comes  next  to  hand  to  save 
himself;  but  often  layeth  hold  on  sedgy  weeds,  that 
do  but  entangle  him  and  draw  him  deeper  under 
water,  and  there  keep  him  down  from  ever  getting 
up  again,  till  he  be  (by  that  whereby  he  thought  to 
save  himselO  drowned  indeed.  Thus  it  is  that, 
whilst  many,  through  weakness  of  faith  and  want  of 

Eatience,  are  loth  to  wait  God's  good  pleasure,  and, 
eing  desirous  to  be  rid  in  all  haste  of  the  present 
aOliction,  they  put  their  hand  oft  to  such  courses  as 
procure  fearful  effects,  and  use  such  sorry  shifts  for 
the  relieving  of  themselves  as  do  but  plunge  them 
further  and  deeper  into  such  a  labyrinth  oi  evils, 
out  of  which  they  seldom  or  never  get  again. 

— Gataker,  1574-1654. 
(175.)  I  have  of^en  seen  young  and  unskilful  per- 
sons sitting  in  a  little  boat,  when  every  little  wave 
sporting  about  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  and  every 
motion  and  dancing  of  the  barge,  seemed  a  danger, 
and  made  them  cling  fast  upon  their  fellows  ;  and  yet 
all  the  while  they  were  as  safe  as  if  they  sat  under  a 
tree,  while  a  gentle  wind  shook  the  breeze  into  a 
refreshment  and  a  cooling  shade.  And  the  unskil- 
ful, inexperienced  Christian  shrieks  out  whenever 
his  vessel  shakes,  thinking  it  always  a  danger  that 
the  watery  pavement  is  not  stable  and  resident  as  a 
rock  ;  and  yet  all  his  danger  is  in  himself,  none  at 
all  from  without  ;  for  he  is  indeed  moving  upon  the 
waters,  but  fastened  to  a  rock  ;  faith  is  his  founda- 
tion, and  hope  is  his  anclior,  and  death  i«  his  har- 


bour, and  Christ  his  pilot,  and  heaven  his  country  1 
and  all  the  evils  of  poverty,  or  affronts  of  tribunals 
and  evil  judges,  of  fears  and  sudden  apprehensions, 
are  but  like  the  loud  wind  blowing  from  the  right 
point ;  they  make  a  noise,  and  drive  faster  to  the 
harbour  ;  and  if  we  do  not  leave  the  ship,  and  leap 
into  the  sea,  quit  the  interest  of  religion,  and  run  to 
the  securities  of  the  world,  cut  our  cables,  and  dis- 
solve our  hopes  ;  grow  impatient  and  hug  a  wave, 
which  dies  in  its  embraces,  we  are  as  safe  at  sea, 
S'lfcr  in  the  slonn  tliat  God  smds  us  than  in  a  calm 
when  befriended  by  the  world. 

— Jeievty  laylor,  1612-1667. 

14.  But  to  look  up  to  God. 

(176.)  2  Cor.  iv.  18.— Mr.  Astor,  once  fording 
the  Susquehanna  on  horseback,  became  so  dizzy 
as  to  be  near  losing  his  seat.  Suddenly  he  received 
a  blow  on  his  chin  from  a  hunter  who  was  his  com- 
panion, with  the  words  "  Look  up."  He  did  so, 
and  recovered  his  balance.  It  was  looking  on  the 
turbulent  waters  that  endangered  his  life,  and  look- 
ing up  saved  it. 

15.  And  to  seek  relief  and  strength  in  prayer. 
(177.)  We  must  also  pray  either   that  God  will 

help  and  deliver  us,  not  after  the  device  of  our  own 
brains,  but  after  such  wise  as  shall  seem  unto  Hii 
godly  wisdom,  or  else  that  He  will  mitigate  our  pain, 
that  our  weakness  may  not  utterly  faint.  Like  as  a 
sick  person,  although  he  doubt  nothing  of  the  faith- 
fulness and  tenderness  of  his  physician,  yet  for  all 
that  desireth  him  to  handle  his  wound  as  tenderly  as 
possible  ;  even  so  may  we  call  upon  God,  that,  if  it 
be  not  against  His  honour  and  glory,  He  will  vouch- 
safe to  give  some  mitigation  of  the  pain. 

—  Wermullerus,  1551. 

(178.)  That  grace  which  will  carry  us  through 
prosperity  will  not  carry  us  through  sufferings  :  the 
ship  needs  stronger  tackling  to  carry  it  through  a 
storm  than  a  calm.  — ll'atsoii,  1696. 

VI.    CONSOLATIONS  FOR   THE  AFFLICTED. 

1.  Affliction  is  apportioned  and  limited  by  God. 

(179.)  We  a.e  not  equally  afflicted  with  the  same 
diseases,  or  all  in  need  of  an  equally  severe  method 
of  cure.  Hence  we  see  different  persons  exercised 
with  different  kinds  of  crosses.  But  whilst  the 
Heavenly  I'hysician,  consulting  the  health  of  all 
His  patients,  practises  a  milder  treatment  towards 
some,  and  cures  others  with  rougher  remedies,  yet 
He  leaves  no  one  completely  exempted,  because  He 
knows  we  are  all  diseased,  without  the  exception 
of  a  single  individual.  — Calvin,  1509-1564. 

(180.)  The  Lord  does  not  measure  out  our 
afflictions  according  to  our  faults,  but  according 
to  our  strength,  and  looks  not  what  we  have 
deserved,  but  what  we  are  able  to  bear  ;  for,  as  the 
prophet  says,  in  wrath  He  remembers  mercy  (Hab. 
iii.  2),  which  makes  Him  in  all  our  chastisements  to 
intend  our  profit,  and  not  our  punishment.  Neither 
does  He  give  to  all  His  servants  a  cup  of  like  size, 
or  a  burden  to  bear  of  the  same  weight  ;  but  either 
fits  their  afflictions  to  the  measure  of  their  strength, 
or  their  strength  to  the  measure  of  their  afflictions. 
He  does  not  observe  in  sharing  of  afflictions  an 
arithmetical  proportion,  giving  to  all  indifferently 
the  same  number  and  measure,  but  like  a  wise  geo- 
metrician. He  proportionates  them  to  ilie  strength 


AFFLICTION. 


(    28    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


of  the  bearers,  allotting  a  greater  burden  to  the 
strongest,  and  a  less  to  the  weakest.  In  the  Word 
of  God  we  have  an  express  promise,  that  the  Lord 
will  not  suffer  us  to  be  tempted  above  that  we  are 
able,  but  will  with  the  temptation  also  make  a  way 
of  escape,  that  we  may  be  able  to  bear  it  (i  Cor. 
X.  13).  — Downtime,  1644. 

(iSi.)  Afflictions  proceed  from  God  our  heavenly 
Father,  whose  wisdom  is  infinite,  and  whose  love  is 
incomprehensible.  And  therefore,  if  earthly  parents 
— out  of  their  small  model  of  love  and  little  pittance 
of  affection,  guided  by  their  shallow  discretion — do 
not  give  to  all  their  children  the  like  measure  of 
chastisement,  though  they  be  alike  guilty  of  the 
same  fault,  but  have  respect  to  their  age  and  big- 
ness, giving  less  to  the  youngest  and  weakest,  and 
more  to  those  who  are  older  and  of  greater  strength  ; 
because  if  they  should  receive  these  greater  stripes, 
they  would  (exceeding  their  strength)  make  them 
dull  and  desperate,  and  if  these  should  have  the 
lighter  chastisements  they  would  hereby  grow  care- 
less and  negligent  ;  how  much  more  then  will  the 
Lord,  so  far  exceeding  them  in  love  and  wisdom, 
thus  proportionate  His  chastisements  to  the  strength 
of  His  ch'ldren,  seeing  lie  does  not  in  His  chastise- 
ments aim  at  the  satisfying  of  His  justice  by  punish- 
ing the  fault,  but  does  all  out  of  mere  love  for  the 
reformation  of  the  offender.      — Downavie,  1644. 

(182.)  If  we  see  all  who  are  wise  and  just  to  have 
regard  not  to  oppress  tlieir  inferiors  with  labours, 
but  fit  their  employments  according  to  their  abilities  ; 
if  no  good  schoolmaster  will  appoint  his  scholars 
longer  or  harder  lessons  than  they  can  learn,  nor 
correct  them  with  more  or  greater  stripes  than  is  fit 
for  their  age  ;  if  no  good  master  will  give  his  servants 
a  greater  burden  than  they  can  carry,  but  allot  the 
heaviest  to  the  strongest,  and  the  lightest  to  the 
weakest ;  yea,  if  a  good  man  will  be  merciful  to  his 
beast,  fitting  its  load  to  its  strength,  and  not  oppress- 
ing it  with  more  than  it  can  bear  ;  how  much  more 
may  we  be  assured  that  the  Lord  will  be  more 
careful  over  His  own  children,  in  proportioning  their 
burden  to  their  strength,  that  they  may  not  sink 
under  the  weight  of  their  afflictions,  especially  con- 
sidering that  lie  perfectly  knows  their  power  and 
ability,  and  can  as  easily  add  to  their  strength  as 
detract  from  their  burden  !        — Downame,  1644. 

(183.)  As  no  man  is  so  loaded  with  benefits,  as 
that  he  is  in  all  respects  happy  ;  so  there  is  none  so 
oppressed  with  afflictions,  that  he  is  in  every  way 
miserable.  And  this  mixture  the  wise  Judge  of 
heaven  and  earth  has  made,  to  keep  us  in  a  mean, 
who  are  too  prone  to  run  into  extremes.  And 
because  we  would  be  too  much  exalted  with  con- 
tinual prosperity,  and  too  much  dejected  if  we 
should  feel  nothing  but  affliction,  the  Lord  never 
suffers  us  to  abound  with  worldly  happiness,  but 
that  we  have  something  to  humble  us  ;  nor  so  to  be 
plunged  in  misery,  but  that  we  have  some  cause  of 
present  comfort  or  future  hope.  And  like  a  wise 
father,  He  does  not  too  much  dandle  us,  which 
would  make  us  wantons,  nor  always- beat  us,  which 
would  make  us  desperate ;  but  He  judiciously 
mingles  the  one  with  the  other,  not  letting  us  have 
our  wills  in  al!  things,  lest  we  should  neglect  Him  ; 
nor  yet  always  crossing  us  in  them,  lest  we  sliould 
hate  and  rebel  dgainst  Him  ;  not  always  cockering 
us,  lest  we  should  grow  proud  and  insolent,   nor 


always  correcting  us,  lest  we  should  become  base 
and  servile  ;  but  He  gives  gifts  ihat  we  may  love 
Him,  and  stripes  that  we  may  fear  Him.  Yea, 
oftentimes  He  mixes  frowns  with  His  favours,  when 
they  make  us  malapert,  and  kind  speeches  with  His 
rebukes  and  chastisements,  to  show  in  the  hatred  of 
our  faults  His  love  to  our  persons,  when  He  sees  u? 
humble  and  penitent ;  that  so  He  may  make  us  in 
all  things  to  reverence  Him,  and  no  less  to  feat 
Him  in  His  favours,  than  to  love  Him  in  His 
chastisements.  — Downame,  1644. 

(184.)  As  the  wise  commander  does  not  always 
wear  out  his  servants  with  long  marches,  wearisome 
wacchings,  and  fierce  skirmishes  and  assaults ;  but 
after  their  tedious  labour  brings  them  into  garrisons, 
that,  taking  their  rest,  and  refreshing  themselves 
with  some  wholesome  diet,  good  lodging  and 
pleasant  recreations,  they  may  renew  their  strength 
and  courage,  and  afterwards  be  more  fit  for  service  : 
so  deals  our  great  Commander  with  us,  in  this 
spiritual  warfare,  giving  to  us  a  breathing  time  after 
our  fight,  rest  after  our  labours,  recreation  after 
sorrows,  and  after  troubles  and  afflictions,  comforts 
and  refresliings ;  that  so  having  recovered  our 
strength,  and  taken  new  courage  unto  us,  we  may 
the  better  be  enabled  to  do  Him  further  service. 
Yea,  He  does  not  only  interchangeably  let  one  of 
these  succeed  the  other,  but  like  a  prudent  general, 
He  intermixes  them,  giving  to  them  in  the  time 
of  their  greatest  labours  some  rest,  and  in  their 
sharpest  encounters  with  afflictions  some  breathing 
and  refreshing ;  even  as  contrariwise  He  does  not, 
when  they  are  in  the  garrison  of  prosperity,  suffer 
them  to  languish  in  idleness,  and  to  spend  their 
whole  time  in  pleasure,  which  would  make  them 
unfit  for  service,  but  sometimes  inures  them  to 
labour,  watching,  and  warlike  exercises,  for  the 
preserving  of  their  strength  and  manlike  courage. 
— Doiv7iame,  1644. 

(185.)  Not  to  be  afflicted  is  a  sign  of  weakness ; 
for,  therefore  God  imposeth  no  more  on  me,  because 
He  sees  I  can  bear  no  more.  God  will  not  make 
choice  of  a  weak  champion.  When  I  am  stronger  I 
will  look  for  more  ;  and  when  I  sustain  more  it  shall 
more  comfort  me  that  God  finds  me  strong,  than  it 
shall  grieve  me  to  be  pressed  with  a  heavy  affliction. 
—Hall,  1574-1656. 

(186.)  When  an  unskilful  eye  looks  upon  the 
threshing  of  corn,  he  says,  "  Why  do  they  sjioll  the 
corn?"  But  those  that  know  better  say,  "  The  flail 
does  not  hurt  the  corn  ;  if  the  cart-wheel  should  pass 
upon  it  there  would  be  spoil  indeed,  but  the  flail 
hurts  not."  Now,  there  is  no  aftliction  or  suffering 
that  a  godly  man  meets  with  but  is  God's  3ai!. 
And  if  you  look  into  Isa.  xxviii.,  ye  shall  find  the 
Lord  promises,  under  a  similitude,  that  His  cart- 
wheel shall  not  pass  upon  those  that  are  weak. 
God  will  always  proportion  His  rod  to  our  strength. 
..."  I  am  God's  corn,"  says  the  martyr,  "  I  must 
therefore  pass  under  the  flail,  through  the  fan,  under 
the  millstone,  into  the  oven,  before  I  can  be  bread 
for  Him."  And  if  our  chaff  be  severed  from  our 
graces  by  this  flail,  have  we  any  reason  to  be  dis- 
couraged because  we  are  thus  afflicted? 

— Bridges,  1600-167C. 

(187.)  God  doth  moderate  His  stroke  (Jer.  xxx. 
11),  "  I  will  correct  thee  in  measure."  God  will  in 
the  day  of  His  east  wind  stay  His  rough  wind  (Isa. 
xxvii.  8).  The  physician  that  understands  the  crasis 
and  temper  of  the  patient  will  not  give  too  strong 


AFFLICTION. 


K    29    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


physic  for  the  body,  nor  will  he  give  one  drachm  or 
scruple  too  much.  God  knows  our  frame,  He  will 
not  over-afflict.  He  will  not  stretch  the  strings  of 
His  viol  too  hard,  lest  they  break.  —  IVatson,  1696. 

(188.)  "I  had,"  said  Latimer,  describing  the  way 
in  which  his  father  trained  him  as  a  yeoman's  son, 
"  my  bows  bought  me  according  to  my  age  and 
strength  ;  as  1  increased  in  them  so  my  bows  were 
made  bigger  and  bigger."  Thus  boys  grew  into 
cross-bowmen,  and  by  a  similar  increase  in  the  force 
of  their  trials.  Christians  become  veterans  in  the 
Lord's  host.  The  affliction  which  is  suitable  for  a 
babe  in  grace  would  little  serve  the  young  man,  and 
even  the  well-developed  man  needs  severer  trials  as 
his  strength  increases.  God,  like  a  wise  father, 
trains  us  wisely,  and  as  we  are  able  to  bear  it  He 
makes  our  service  and  our  suffering  more  arduous. 
AS  Doys  rejoice  to  be  treated  like  men,  so  will  we 
rejoice  in  our  greater  tribulations,  for  here  is  man's 
work  for  us,  and  by  God's  help  we  will  not  flinch 
from  doing  it.  — Spiirgeon. 

2.  Afflictions  do  not  necessarily  prove  that  God 
Is  angry  with  us. 

(1S9.)  Every  severe  dispensation  is  not  an  effect 
of  God's  anger.  The  same  effect  may  proceed  from 
very  different  causes.  Love  is  sometimes  put  upon 
the  rigour  of  those  courses,  which  at  the  first  aspect 
seem  to  carry  in  them  the  inscriptions  of  enmity. 

God  may  sweep  away  a  man's  estate,  snatch  away 
a  friend,  stain  his  reputation  ;  and  yet  the  design  of 
all  this  not  be  revenge,  but  remedy ;  not  destruc- 
tion, but  discipline. 

He  sees,  perhaps,  something  evil  in  us  to  be  cured, 
and  something  worse  to  be  prevented  ;  some  luxuri- 
ances to  be  abated,  and  some  malignant  humours  to 
be  evacuated  ;  all  which  cannot  be  effected  but  by 
sharp  and  displeasing  applications.  And  in  all  the 
hard  passages  of  Providence  when  God  strips  a  man 
of  all  his  externals,  God's  intent  maybe,  not  to  make 
him  miserable,  but  to  make  him  humble ;  not  to 
ruin,  but  to  reduce  him. 

If  you  look  only  upon  the  outside  of  an  affliction, 
you  cannot  distinguish  from  what  principle  it  may 
proceed.  Gehazi's  leprosy  and  Lazarus's  sores  may 
seem  to  be  inflicted  by  the  same  displeasure,  and  yet 
one  was  a  curse  for  hypocrisy,  and  the  other  a  trial 
of  humility. 

David's  and  Saul's  afflictions  were  dispensed  with 
a  very  different  hand.  Saul  could  not  pursue  him 
so  fast,  but  mercy  followed  him  as  close.  Stephen 
was  stoned  as  well  as  Achan  ;  but  certainly  God  did 
not  with  the  same  arm  fling  the  stone  at  the  one 
with  which  He  did  at  the  other. 

Consider  the  saints  (Heb.  xi.  37),  "Afflicted, 
tormented,  naked,  destitute,  sawn  asunder."  And 
what  could  anger  itself  do  more  against  them  ?  And 
yet  the  God  who  did  all  this  was  not  angi7.  That 
very  love  which  makes  God  to  be  our  friend,  makes 
Him  sometimes  to  appear  our  enemy  :  to  chastise  our 
confidence,  to  raise  our  vigilance,  and  to  give  us 
safety  instead  of  security. 

Persons  who  are  truly  holy,  are  yet  very  apt  to 
look  upon  God's  dealings  on  the  wrong  side,  and  to 
make  hard  conclusions  concerning  their  own  condi- 
tion. David  is  an  example  of  this ;  through  the 
transports,  sometimes  of  diffidence,  sometimes  of 
impatience,  he  is  high  in  his  expostulations  with 
God  (Ps.  Ixxiv.  I,  Ixxvii.  9)  ;  not  considering  (as  he 
does  elsewhere)  that  when  God  dsals  with  His  chosen 


ones,  with  "the  sheep  of  His  pasture,"  His  rod  is 
still  attended  with  His  staff";  and  as  with  one  He 
strikes,  so  with  the  other  He  supports. 

So,  on  the  other  side,  men  of  a  morose,  unchari- 
table temper,  from  such  instances  of  outward  mise- 
ries, are  as  ready  to  denounce  God's  anger  agamst 
others.  If  such  dogs  meet  with  a  Lazarus,  instead 
of  licking  his  sores  they  will  bite  his  person,  bark 
at  his  name,  and  worry  his  reputation.  Nothing 
can  befall  any  man,  besides  themselves,  but  presently 
it  is  "  a  judgment." 

Let  us  rest  assured  of  this,  that  the  roughest  of 
God's  proceedings  do  not  always  issue  from  an  angry 
intention  :  it  is  very  possible,  because  very  usual, 
that  they  may  proceed  from  the  clean  contrary.  The 
same  clouds  which  God  made  use  of  heretofore  to 
drown  the  earth.  He  employs  now  to  refresh  it.  He 
may  use  the  same  means  to  correct  and  to  l)ettef 
some  that  He  does  to  plague  and  to  punish  others. 
The  same  hand  and  hatchet  that  cuts  some  trees  for 
the  fire  may  cut  others  into  growth,  verdure  and 
fertility,  — South,  1633-17 16. 

3.  On  the  contrary,  they  may  l^i  an  evidence  of 
our  acceptance  with  God. 

(190.)  Furthermore,  be  it  in  case,  that  the  father 
hath  two  sons,  whereof  the  one  behaveth  himself 
wickedly,  and  yet  his  father  correcteth  him  nothing 
at  all  ;  the  other  for  the  least  fault  that  he  doth  is 
corrected  by  and  by.  What  thing  else  is  the  cause 
of  this,  but  that  the  father  hath  no  hope  of  amend- 
ment at  all  of  the  one,  and  therefore  mindeth  to 
put  him  clearly  from  his  heritage,  and  to  give  him 
no  part  thereof?  For  the  heritage  pertaineth  wholly 
unto  that  son  that  is  chastened. 

And  yet  the  same  poor  son  that  is  thus  chastened 
thinketh  in  his  mind  that  his  brother  is  much  more 
happy  than  he,  forasmuch  as  he  is  never  beaten  ; 
and  therefore  he  mourneth  by  himself,  "Well,  my 
brother  doth  what  he  will  against  my  father's  will,  and 
yet  my  father  giveth  him  not  one  foul  word  ;  and 
towards  me  he  showeth  not  so  much  as  a  good  look, 
but  is  ever  in  my  top,  if  I  do  but  look  away,"  &c. 

Here  now  mayest  thou  mark  the  foolishness  of 
the  child,  which  hath  respect  only  unto  the  present 
grief,  and  never  considereth  v/hat  is  reserved  for 
him.  Even  such  imaginations  have  Christian  men 
also,  when  they  suffer  much  tribulation,  and  see  on 
the  other  side  how  prosperously  it  goeth  with  the 
wicked  ;  whereas  they  ought  rather  to  comfort 
themselves  with  the  remembrance  of  the  heritage 
that  is  reserved  for  them  in  heaven,  which  apper- 
taineth  unto  them,  as  good  and  virtuous  children. 

As  for  the  other,  that  hop  and  spring,  make- 
merry,  and  take  their  pleasure  now  for  a  while, 
they  shall  be  deprived  of  the  heritage  everlastingly,, 
as  strangers,  and  shall  have  no  part  thereof  (Heb.. 
xii.  6-8).  — Wermullerus,  1551. 

(191.)  The  herdman  will  suffer  such  calves  as  are- 
appointed  shortly  to  the  slaughter  to  run  about  in 
the  pasture  of  pleasure ;  and  again,  such  as  are 
reserved  to  labour  are  kept  under  the  yoke.  Even 
so  Almighty  God  doth  permit  unto  those  ungodly 
persons,  whose  destruction  is  at  hand,  to  accomplish 
their  pleasures  and  desires  ;  but  the  godly  whom  He 
will  use  to  His  honour  and  glory,  those  keepeth  He 
under  the  yoke,  and  restraineth  them  from  the  pleas- 
ant lusts  of  the  world.  —  Werntullerus,  155 1. 

(192.)  We  are  trees  of  righteousness  which  God's. 


AFFLICTION. 


(    30    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


right  hand  has  planted.  Let  us  not,  therefore,  fear 
to  be  pruned  with  alllictions,  seeing  God  thus  pares 
away  our  supertiuous  branches  that  we  may  bring 
forth  more  fiuit,  as  our  Saviour  teaches  us  (John 
XV.  2). 

Yoa,  rather,  we  had  great  cause  of  fear,  if  we  were 
exempted  fron  these  calamities.  "  For  as  that  is  a 
fruitless  tree  which  is  suffered  to  grow  wild  and 
untouched,  and  is  t^or',-fore  daily  in  danger  to  be 
cut  down  an  cast  into  the  tire,  because  it  does  no 
jjood  by  standing  and  growing  :  so  it  is  a  sign  that 
we  are  fruitless  treos  still  growing  in  the  wild  wood 
of  the  work!,  which  must  one  day  be  cut  down  and 
cast  into  everlasting  fire  if  our  Heavenly  Husband- 
man takes  no  care  to  prune  us  with  crosses  and 
•llliclions. 

We  are  vines  of  God's  own  setting,  whose  glory 
»nd  excellency  consists  not  in  the  broadness  and 
beauty  of  our  leaves,  nor  in  the  handsomeness  and 
Btraightness  of  our  body  and  branches,  but  only  in 
our  fruilfulness,  whereby  we  bring  forth  great  plenty 
of  the  ripe  and  sweet  grapes  of  holiness  and  right- 
eousness. And,  therefore,  when  we  have  the  beauty 
aiid  bravery  of  our  outward  estate  taken  from  us, 
and  have  these  leaves  of  earthly  vanities  blown 
away  with  the  winds  of  adversity,  and  our  super- 
fluous stems  of  worldly  substance  pruned  and  plucked 
from  us  in  the  winter  of  affliction,  there  is  no  cause 
for  grief  or  mourning,  seeing  our  chiefest  excellency 
is  not  hereby  impaired  ;  yea,  rather,  because  it  is 
nr.uch  advanced,  in  that  we  are  made  more  fruitful, 
'  /  how  much  the  more  we  are  by  these  afflictions 
pruned  from  our  superfluities,  this  may  justly  in- 
crease our  joy  and  comfort.       — Downaine,  1644. 

(193.)  Our  afflictions  are  notable  signs  of  our 
effectual  calling,  whereby  we  are  severed  from  the 
world,  and  admitted  into  God's  church  and  family. 
For  they  are  Gotl's  livery  and  cognisance  which  He 
gives  to  all  to  wear  who  will  be  flis  disciples;  for 
"as  many  as  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall 
suffer  persecution." 

As  when  the  masons  and  carpenters  polish  their 
stones  and  square  their  timber  with  their  tools  and 
axes,  it  is  a  sign  that  they  have  chosen  them  for  the 
use  of  building  ;  whereas  that  which  is  untouched  is 
left  as  refuse,  fit  for  nothing,  to  be  cast  into  the  high- 
way, and  to  be  burned  in  the  fire.  So  when  the 
Lord  doth  polish,  square,  and  plane  us  with  troubles 
and  afflictions  from  the  knots  and  knobs  of  sin  and 
corruption,  it  appears  hereby  that  fie  has  made 
choice  of  us  to  be  stones  in  the  building  of  His 
spiritual  temple  ;  whereas  those  who  are  let  alone, 
and  not  h'^mmered  and  squared  by  this  Heavenly 
Workman,  are  rejected  as  refuse  stuff",  which  is 
altogether  unfit  for  this  holy  building. 

— Daivtiame,  1644. 

(194.)  "  Wiom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth, 
and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  He  receiveth " 
(Heb.  xii.  6,  11).  Misunderstand  not,  then,  the 
prognostics  of  your  present  sorrows.  Think  how 
tliey  will  v.'ork,  as  well  as  how  they  taste.  They 
bode  good,  though  they  are  unpleasant.  If  you 
were  bastards  and  reprobates,  you  might  feel  less 
of  the  rod.  When  the  ploughers  make  furrows  on 
you,  it  prepareth  you  for  the  seed  ;  and  the  showers 
that  water  it  prognosticate  a  plenteous  harvest. 
Think  it  not  strange  if  He  thresh  and  grind  you, 
if  you  would  be  bread  for  your  Master's  use.  He 
IS  not  drowning  His  sheep  when  He  washeth 
them,  nor  killing  them  when  H-e  is  shearing  them. 


Dut  by  this  He  showeth  that  they  are  His  own ; 
and  the  new-shorn  sheep  do  most  visibly  bear  His 
name  or  mark,  when  it  is  almost  worn  out,  and 
scarce  discernible,  on  them  that  have  the  longest 
fleece.  — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(195.)  \Vhen  sickness  and  disease  attack  the 
saint,  or  when  death  enters  the  saint's  home  and 
darkens  it  by  his  overshadowing  presence,  when 
poverty  like  an  armed  man  attaclcs  him,  or  when 
the  wicked  revile  and  persecute  him,  or  when  heart 
and  flesh  fail,  it  appears  as  though  God  did  not 
care.  But  these  very  circumstances  are  signs  of 
His  care.  The  plough,  with  its  broad  and  sharp 
blade  or  furrow-slice  driven  into  the  land,  is  a  sign 
of  culture  and  of  ownership.  The  harrow,  with  its 
long  prongs  drawn  over  the  field,  is  a  proof  of  con- 
cern for  its  fertility.  The  sharp  threshing  instru- 
ment having  teeth,  is  a  sign  of  something  being 
thought  worthy  of  the  garner.    — Samuel  Mai-tin. 

(196.)  Lawns  which  we  would  keep  in  the  best 
condition  are  veiy  frequently  mown  ;  the  grass  has 
scarcely  any  respite  from  the  scythe.  Out  in  the 
meadows  there  is  no  such  repeated  cutting,  they 
are  mown  but  once  or  twice  in  the  year.  Even 
thus  the  nearer  we  are  to  God,  and  the  more  re- 
gard He  has  for  us,  the  more  frequent  will  be  our 
adversities.  To  be  very  dear  to  God,  involves  no 
small  degree  of  chastisement.  — Spurgeon. 

4.  Afflictions  assttre  us  tliat  we  are  in  tli» 
heavenward  way. 

(197.)  Passengers  that  have  been  told  that  tlieir 
way  to  such  a  place  lieth  over  a  steep  hill,  or 
down  a  craggy  rock,  or  through  a  moorish  fen,  or 
dirty  vale,  if  they  suddenly  fall  into  some  pleasant 
meadow,  enamelled  with  beautiful  flowers,  or  a 
goodly  corn  field,  or  a  fair  champaign  country,  look 
about  them,  and  bethinking  themselves  where  they 
are,  say,  "  Surely  we  are  come  out  of  the  way ;  we 
see  no  hills,  nor  rocks,  nor  moors,  nor  fens  :  this  is 
too  good  to  be  the  right  way."  So  in  the  course 
of  our  life,  which  is  but  a  pilgrimage  on  earth  : 
when  we  pass  through  fields  of  corn  or  gardens  of 
flowers,  and  enjoy  all  worldly  pleasures  and  con- 
tentments ;  when  the  wind  sets  in  such  a  corner  as 
blows  riches,  honours,  and  preferments  upon  us  ; — 
let  us  then  cast  with  ourselves,  "  Surely  this  is  not 
the  way  the  Scripture  directeth  us  unto  ;  here  are 
not  the  temptations  nor  the  tribulations  that  we 
must  pass  through  :  we  see  little  or  no  footing  of 
the  saints  of  God  in  this  road,  but  only  the  print  of 
Dives'  feet  :  somewhere  we  have  missed  our  way  ; 
let  us  search  and  find  where  we  went  out  of  it."  It 
is  veiy  true  that  God  hath  the  blessings  of  this  life 
and  that  which  is  to  come  in  store  for  His  children  ; 
when  He  seeth  it  good  for  them,  they  may  go  to 
heaven  this  way ;  but,  certainly,  afllictions  and 
troubles  are  surer  arguments  of  God's  love,  and  a 
readier  way  to  heaven  than  the  other. 

— Alphonsus  ab  Avendano,  1590. 

6.  God  is  present  with  His  people  In  all  their 
afflictions. 

(198.)  The  Lord  does  not  only  behold  our  tribu- 
lation as  it  were  afar  off.  He  being  included  in 
heaven,  as  we  are  in  the  earth  ;  but  as  He  fills  all 
places  with  His  essence,  so  after  a  more  especial 
manner  lie  is  present  with  the  faithful  in  all  their 
afflictions.     As  the  careful  physician  watches  ovf»» 


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(    31    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


his  patient,  that  he  may  apply  to  him  fit  medicine, 
which  may  so  purge  away  the  corrupt  humours  as 
that  in  the  meantime  nature  itself  be  not  too  much 
weakened  ;  and  as  the  goldsmith,  when  he  has  cast 
his  gold  into  the  furnace,  does  not  carelessly  leave 
it,  biit  watches  by  it,  that  he  may  moderate  the 
fire,  an  1  so  order  it,  in  respect  both  of  the  heat 
and  the  time  of  enduring  it,  that  it  may  be  purified 
from  the  dross,  and  not  consumed  in  the  purest 
substance  ;  so  the  Lord  stands  by  us,  that  when  we 
are  according  to  His  own  mind  purged  and  purified, 
He  may  withdraw  his  bitter  potions,  and  pull  us 
like  pure  metal  out  of  the  fire,  that  we  may  not  in 
our  spiritual  parts  receive  any  hurt. 

— Dcnvname,  1644. 

6.  God  sympathises  wltli  His  people  In  all  tbeir 
•orrows. 

(199.)  Canst  thou  not  read  God's  gracious  indul- 
gence in  thine  own  disposition  ?  Thou  art  a  parent 
of  children  :  perhaps  thou  findest  cause  to  affect 
one  more  than  another,  though  all  be  dear  enough  ; 
but  if  any  one  of  them  be  cast  down  with  a  feverous 
distemper,  now  thou  art  more  carefully  busy  about 
him  than  all  the  rest.  How  thou  pitiest  him  ;  how 
thou  pliest  him  with  offers  and  recipes  ;  with  what 
silent  anxiety  dost  thou  watch  by  his  couch  ;  listen- 
ing for  every  one  of  his  breathings  ;  jealous  of  every 
whispering  that  might  break  off  his  slumber ; 
answering  every  of  his  groans,  with  so  many  sighs  ; 
and,  in  short,  so  making  of  him  for  the  time,  that 
thy  greatest  darling  seems  the  while  neglected  in 
comparison  of  this  more  needful  charge.  How 
m.uch  more  shall  the  Father  of  Mercies  be  com- 
passionately intent  upon  the  sufferings  of  His  dear 
children,  according  to  the  proportion  of  their  afilic- 
tions  !  — Hall,  1 5 1 4- 1 656. 

7.  God  succours  and  sustains  His  people  accord- 
ing to  their  need. 

(200.)  Although  in  winter  the  trees  appear  not 
only  unfruitful,  but  utterly  dead,  yet  the  sun,  when 
the  winter  hath  taken  her  leave,  doth  so  warm  both 
the  earth  and  the  trees  that  they  bud  out  again,  wax 
green,  and  bring  forth  fruit  :  even  so  when  the 
faithful  seem  as  though  they  were  utterly  forsaken, 
yet  doth  the  heavenly  Spirit  in  due  time  lighten, 
warm,  and  strengthen  their  hearts  to  all  goodness. 

As  the  young  infant  is  not  able  to  go  of  himself 
for  very  tenderness  and  lack  of  strength,  but  must 
be  holden  up,  and  led  with  the  hand  of  the  nurse  ; 
and  like  as  a  woman,  weakened  with  sickness,  is  not 
able  to  go  one  step,  but  some  strong  woman  must 
take  her  under  the  arm,  and  lead  her,  even  so  are 
we  not  able  to  go  of  ourselves,  but  God  with  His 
mighty  hand  and  present  power  sustaineth  us.  The 
Spirit  helpeth  our  infirmities  (Rom.  viii.) 

—  VVerniidlerus,  1 5  5 1  • 

(201.)  As  the  tender  mother  teaching  her  young 
child  to  go  oftentimes  seems  to  leave  him  to  his  own 
strength,  when  in  truth  he  goes  by  her  help  support- 
ing him  ;  and  to  let  him  alone  to  his  own  care,  when 
in  the  meantime  she  has  a  watchful  eye  to  him,  so 
that  he  is  no  sooner  ready  to  fall  but  with  nimble 
speed  she  catches  hold  of  him,  and  prevents  his 
danger.  So  the  Lord  deals  with  us  His  children, 
whilst  in  our  nonage  and  greatest  weakness  He 
teaches  us  to  go  in  this  rough  path  of  afflictions 
which  leads  to  His  kingdom.  For  when  He  seems 
to  neglect  us  He  watches  over  us  ;  and  when,  in  our 
sense  and  feeling,  He  l-l  ves  us  to  ourselvp.s.  even 


then  He  stays  us  by  His  strength  ;  and  when  we 
are  in  greatest  danger  of  sinking  and  falling.  He 
stretches  out  with  speed  His  powerful  hand,  and  pre- 
serves us  from  receiving  any  harm. 

— Downame,  1644, 

(202.)  We  see  in  the  body  if  any  member  bo  hurt, 
thither  presently  runs  the  blood  to  comfoit  the 
wounded  part.  The  man  himself,  eye,  tongue,  and 
hand  is  altogether  employed  about  that  part  and 
wounded  member,  as  if  he  were  forgetful  of  all  the 
rest.  So  we  see  in  the  family,  if  one  of  the  children 
be  sick,  all  the  care  and  kindness  of  the  mother  is 
about  that  sick  child,  so  tliat  all  the  rest  do  as  it 
were  envy  his 'sickness.  If  nature  does  thus,  will 
not  God,  who  is  the  author  of  nature,  do  much  more  ? 
For  if  an  earthly  mother  do  thus  to  a  sickly  and 
suffering  child,  will  not  our  Heavenly  Father,  who 
has  an  infinite,  incredible,  and  tender  love  to  His 
people?  This  is  the  difference  between  God  and 
the  world,  the  world  runs  after  those  that  rejoice  in 
prosperity,  as  the  rivers  run  to  the  sea  when  there  is 
water  enough  already.  Rut  God  comforts  us  all  in 
our  tribulations.  His  name  and  style  is,  "  fie  com- 
forts those  that  are  cast  down."  The  world  forsakes 
those  that  are  in  poverty,  disgrace,  and  want  ;  but 
God  vouchsafes  most  of  His  presence  to  them  that 
holily,  meekly,  and  patiently  bear  the  afflictions 
which  He  lays  upon  them,  and  one  drop  of  this 
honey  is  enough  to  sweeten  the  bitterest  cup  that 
ever  they  drank  of.  If  God  be  with  us,  if  the  power 
of  Christ  will  rest  upon  us,  then  we  may  even 
"glory  in  infirmities,"  as  Paul  did. 

— Matiton,  1 620- 1 667. 

(203.)  It  is  a  vciy  true  saying,  the  sharper  the  lye 
is  the  cleaner  taketh  it  away  all  manner  of  filth. 
Even  so  our  corrupt  and  poisoned  nature  had  need 
of  a  biting  medicine.  The  sharper  the  trouble  the 
more  filth  it  biteth  away.  For  a  weak  stomach, 
which  is  of  a  naughty  digestion,  bitter  wormwood  is 
very  good  and  wholesome ;  even  so  for  the  weak 
and  feeble  soul  is  bittri  affliction. 

—  WennuUerus,  1551. 

S.  Afflictions  minister  to  our  true  wellbeing. 

(204.)  A  water  that  is  continually  standing,  how 
clear  soever  it  seem,  is  corrupt  ;  but  that  water 
which  hath  his  continual  course,  the  more  it  rusheth 
and  struggleth  over  the  stones  and  sands  the  better 
it  is  ;  even  so  a  godly  man,  in  the  absence  of  the 
cross,  is  sluggish  and  dull  ;  but  through  the  cross 
and  affliction  he  is  quickened,  and  increased  in  all 
goodness.  Rusty  iron  through  the  file  is  made 
bright  and  smooth  ;  even  so  the  old  rusty  Adam 
hath  neeil  of  trouble  to  purge  him  from  the  cankered 
rust  of  sin,  — Wermulleriis,  IS5I. 

(205.)  The  soldier  when  he  first  enters  into  the 
field  fears  when  he  hears  but  a  false  alarm,  and  is 
ready  to  duck  at  eveiy  shot,  whereas  after  he  has 
passed  desperate  dangers,  and  has  been  long  exer- 
cised in  many  conflicts  and  skirmishes,  he  becomes 
so  courageous  that  he  dares  to  enter  upon  the  push 
of  the  pike,  and  to  fight  at  the  cannon's  mouth  ; 
now  less  fearing  the  cruel  enemy  and  killing  bullet, 
than  when  he  was  first  trained,  the  paper  shot  and 
the  seeming  encounter  of  his  friends  and  fellows. 

There  is  no  combatant  that  contends  against  his 
adversary  with  that  spirit  and  courage  when  he  first 
comes  into  the  theatre,  as  he  does  who  has  been 
accustomed  to  these  exeicises ;  and  is  not  only 
heartened  with  easy  victories,  but  also  after  many 


AFFLICTION. 


(     32     ) 


AFFLICTION. 


foils  and  falls,  dangerous  wounds  and  much  blood- 
shed, has  in  the  end  prevailed,  and  by  many  perils 
has  made  his  way  to  a  glorious  triumph. 

There  is  no  mariner  so  bold  and  cheerfully  con- 
fident in  the  least  show  of  a  seafaring  danger,  when 
he  first  enters  the  ship,  and  in  his  moving  house 
becomes  an  inhabitant  of  this  new  appearing  world 
Df  dreadful  waters,  as  he  who,  after  innumerable 
storms  and  dangerous  tempests,  has  oftentimesarrived 
safely  at  the  wished-for  haven. 

And  thus  it  also  fares  with  us  in  these  spiritual 
combats  with  troubles  and  calamities.  For  howso- 
ever in  the  first  conflict  we  are  marvellously  cowardly 
and  impatient  in  suffering  the  least  pain,  yet  when 
we  have  been  long  exercised  in  these  skirmishes, 
and  after  many  foils  and  falls,  have  in  the  end, 
through  God's  gracious  assistance,  obtained  a  joyful 
victory,  we  exceedingly  increase  in  Christian  valour. 
' — Dcrwname,  1644. 

(206.)  Experience  teaches  us  that  as  other 
creatures,  so  also  men,  are  made  much  more  tender 
by  gentle  usage,  and  much  disabled  to  bear  the 
brunt  of  any  outward  violence,  and  contrariwise 
that  they  are  much  strengthened  to  endure  any 
hardness,  when  they  are  inured  into  it  by  continual 
custom.  Severe  training  maUes  the  best  soldiers, 
and,  by  continual  custom,  causes  want  and  watching, 
pains  and  toilsome  labour,  scant  diet  and  hard 
lodging  to  become  familiar  and  easy  to  be  endured. 
Mariners  who  have  been  accustomed  to  storms  and 
tempests  find  small  alterations  in  their  bodies  in  the 
roughest  seas  and  foulest  weather,  whereas  fresh- 
water soldiers  and  tender  passengers  cannot  brook 
the  smell  of  the  ship,  nor  sight  of  the  water,  and 
are  extremely  sea-sick  when  they  are  but  a  little 
tossed  with  some  ordinary  winds.  The  daily 
traveller  goes  longer  journeys  with  little  weariness, 
whereas  they  that  keep  at  home  are  soon  tired  and 
surbaited  with  going  a  few  miles.  The  tender 
gentleman  takes  cold  being  in  a  warm  house  and 
well  clothed,  whereas  the  poor  husbandman  dares 
the  cold  winds  and  nipping  frosts  with  his  bare 
head  and  naked  breast ;  and  is  strong  to  endure  the 
whole  day  any  toilsome  labour,  when  the  other  pants 
and  faints  with  weariness  if  he  work  but  one  hour. 

And  as  it  thus  fares  with  the  body  inured  to  pains 
and  labour,  so  with  the  mind  exercised  with  troubles, 
and  accustomed  to  bear  the  burden  of  the  cross. 
— Daiuname,  1644. 

(207.)  Afflictions  are  a  notable  means  to  crown  as, 
even  in  this  life,  with  a  good  name,  which  is  better  than 
all  riches,  and  sweeter  than  the  most  odoriferous  per- 
fume. For,  whereas,  whilst  we  live  in  ease  and  pros- 
perity, the  spiritual  gifts  and  graces  which  God  has 
bestowed  on  us,  lie  hid  and  undiscerned.  When  they 
come  to  the  trial  of  tribulation,  they  are  plainly  dis- 
covered to  all  men.  And  as  the  stars  cannot  be  seen 
in  the  sunshiny  day,  but  when  the  darkest  night 
comes,  they  appear  in  all  their  beauty  ;  so  these  shin- 
ing virtues  and  graces  of  God  have  their  light  much 
obscured  in  the  day  of  prosperity,  but  when  the  dark 
night  of  affliction  comes,  then  they  shine  gloriously. 
The  precious  ointments  send  forth  their  most  odori- 
ferous smell,  when  our  earthen  vessels  and  these 
brittle  glasses  of  our  bodies,  wherein  they  are  con- 
tained, are  cracked  and  broken,  by  being  smitten 
with  calamities.  This  sweet  incense  of  grace  and 
virtue  yields  the  most  fragrant  scent  when  it  is  cast 
into  this  fire  of  afflictions.  Then  does  this  spiritual 
gold  appear  true  2  ad  good  when  it  is  tried  in  this 
burning   furnace.      Then   is    the    strength   of   our 


faith  manifested  to  God's  glory  and  our  praise,  not 
when  we  sit  idly  still,  but  when  we  wrestle  and 
contend  with  strong  temptations.  Then  oui  Chris- 
tian valour  and  fortitude  most  plainly  appears,  not 
whilst  we  lie  at  ease  in  the  safe  garrison,  but  when 
we  are  assailed  with  these  mighty  enemies,  and 
after  many  conflicts  get  l.he  victory. 

— Downame,  1644^ 

(208.)  Look  upon  a  painted  post  or  sign  whose 
colour  is  laid  in  oil,  how  the  rain  beats  upon  it  in 
stormy  weather,  that  one  would  think  all  the  colour 
would  be  washed  off;  yet  how  the  water  glides 
away,  and  leaves  it  rather  more  beautiful  than 
before.  And  thus  it  is  with  every  child  of  God  : 
being  well  varnished  and  garnished  with  the  graces 
of  the  Spirit,  let  the  wind  of  persecution  blow,  and 
the  floods  of  persecution  lift  up  their  voice,  they 
shall  never  •disfigure,  nor  deface,  but  rather  add 
unto  their  besiity.  Such  is  the  condition  of  grace, 
that  it  shines  the  brighter  for  scouring,  and  i«  most 
glorious  when  it  is  most  clouded. 

— Jenkiii,  1612-16S5. 

(209.)  Afflictions  do  increase  grace,  as  the  wind 
serves  to  increase  and  blow  up  the  flame.  Grace 
spends  not  in  the  furnace,  but  it  is  like  the  widow's 
oil  in  the  cruse,  which  did  increase  by  pouring  out. 
The  torch,  when  it  is  beaten,  burns  brightest :  so 
doth  grace  when  it  is  exercised  by  sufferings.  Sharp 
frosts  nourish  the  good  corn  ;  so  do  sharp  afflictions 
grace.  Some  plants  grow  better  in  the  shade  than 
in  the  sun,  as  the  bay  and  the  cypress.  The  shade 
of  adversity  is  better  for  some  than  the  sunshine 
of  prosperity.  — Watson,  1696. 

(210.)  Christians  all  want  to  have  graces,  but  they 
are  not  so  willing  to  take  what  is  necessary  in  ordei 
to  obtain  them.  The  pale  think  it  a  fine  thing  to  be 
painted— all  the  lovely  flowers  and  gay  colours  so 
skilfully  laid  on  by  the  cunning  hand  of  the  artist  ; 
but  when  it  comes  to  being  daubed  all  over  with 
some  dark  substance,  when  the  very  gold  that  is 
upon  them  becomes  as  black  as  ink,  when  they  arc 
thrust  into  the  heated  furnace,  how  then? — how 
thenf 

Christians  are  like  vases,  they  must  pass  through 
the  fire  ere  they  can  shine.  And  often  the  very  fur- 
nace and  the  flame  which  they  call  destruction  is 
only  burning  /«  the  graces  which  are  to  be  their 
everlasting  beauty  and  glory.  — Beeclur. 

(211.)  Our  afflictions  are  not  for  naught.  They 
are  the  fruitful  seed  of  future  glories.  They  are 
blessings  in  disguise.  They  are  meant  for  good,  and 
are  productive  of  good.  They  are  like  the  early 
processes  of  the  garden,  when  the  soil  is  broken  up 
and  weeded,  in  order  that  fair  flowers  may  at  length 
adorn  it.  They  are  the  quarrying  and  the  chiselling 
of  the  marble  before  the  living  statue  can  stand  out* 
in  symmetrical  proportions.  They  are  the  tuning  of 
the  instruments,  without  which  no  harmony  can  be 
secured  in  the  ultimate  concert.  They  are  the  medi- 
cine of  our  convalescence,  the  drudgery  of  our  edu- 
cation, the  spring  pruning  of  our  vine  trees,, without 
which  we  can  never  be  healthy  or  happy,  fit  for 
heaven,  or  qualified  to  bring  forth  fruit  whereby  our 
Father  may  be  glorified.  — Norton. 

(212.)  It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that  the 
most  brilliant  colours  of  plants  are  to  be  seen  on  the 
highest  mountains,  in  spots  that  are  most  exposed 
to  the  vildest  weather.     The  brightest  lichens  and 


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(    33    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


mosses,  the  loveliest  gems  of  wild  flowers  abound 
far  up  on  the  bleak,  storm-scalped  peak.  One  of 
the  richest  displays  of  organic  colouring  I  ever  beheld 
was  near  the  summit  of  Mont  Chenebettaz,  a  hill 
about  10,000  feet  high,  immediately  above  the  great 
St.  Bernard  Hospice.  The  whole  face  of  an  exten- 
sive rock  was  covered  with  a  most  vivid  yellow 
lichen,  which  shone  in  .he  sunshine  like  the  golden 
battlement  of  an  enchanted  castle.  There,  in  that 
lofty  region,  amid  the  most  frowning  desolation,  ex- 
posed to  the  fiercest  tempest  of  the  sky,  this  lichen 
exhibited  a  glory  of  colour  such  as  it  never  showed 
in  the  sheltered  valley.  I  have  two  specimens  of 
the  same  lichen  before  me  while  I  write  these  lines, 
one  from  the  great  St.  Bernard,  and  the  other  from 
the  wall  of  a  Scottish  castle,  deeply  embosomed 
among  sycamore  trees ;  and  the  difference  in  point 
of  form  and  colouring  between  them  is  most  strik- 
ing. The  spedmen  nurtured  amid  the  wild  storms 
of  the  mounta'n  peak  is  of  a  lovely  primrose  hue, 
and  is  smooth  in  texture  and  complete  in  outline ; 
while  the  specimen  nurtured  amid  the  soft  airs  and 
the  delicate  s^iowers  of  the  lowland  valley,  is  of  a 
dim  rusty  hue,  and  is  scurfy  in  texture,  anrd  broken 
in  outlin^.  And  is  it  not  so  with  the  Christian  who 
is  afflicted,  tempest-tossed,  and  not  comforted  ?  Till 
the  storms  and  vicissitudes  of  God's  providence  beat 
upon  him  again  and  again,  his  character  appears 
marred  and  clouded  by  selfish  and  worldly  influences. 
But  trials  clear  away  the  obscurity,  perfect  the  out- 
lines of  his  disposition,  and  give  brightness  and 
beauty  to  his  piety — 

"  Amidst  my  list  of  blessings  infinite 
Stands  this  the  fnremost,  that  my  heart  has  bled; 
Fcr  all  I  bless  Thee,  most  for  the  severe." 

— Mactnillan, 

f.  Afflictions  do  not  debar  us  from  usefulness. 

(213.)  If  thou  canst  not  help  the  great  cause  of  God 
in  any  other  mode,  at  anyrate  there  is  open  to  thee 
that  of  fervent  prayer.  How  much  may  be  done  for 
the  Master's  kingdom  by  the  "king's  remem- 
brancers," who  put  Him  in  mind  day  by  day  of  the 
agonies  ot*  His  Son,  and  of  His  covenant  and  promise 
to  give  Him  a  widening  dominion  !  I  doubt  not 
that  many  sick-beds  in  England  are  doing  more  for 
Christ  than  out  pulpits.  Oh  !  what  showers  of 
blessings  come  down  in  answer  to  the  prayers  and 
tears  of  poor  gcdly  invalids,  whose  weakness  is  their 
strength,  and  whose  sickness  is  their  opportunity. 
In  all  buildings  there  must  be  some  unseen  stones, 
and  are  not  those  very  often  the  most  important  of 
all  ?  In  the  very  foundation  of  a  church  I  should 
place  those  who  are  mighty  in  prayer.  They  are 
hidden  as  it  were  beneath  the  sods  of  obscurity 
where  we  caniiot  see  them,  but  they  are  upbearing 
the  entire  structure.  My  dear  afflicted  brethren  and 
sisters,  when  at  any  time  you  are  cut  off  from  the 
active  rainistnes  which  have  been  your  deJight, 
solace  yourselves  with  this,  that  your  sacred  patience 
under  suffering,  and  your  fervent  i>rayers  for  the 
promotion  of  the  Redeemer's  kingdom,  are  a  sacrifice 
of  a  sweet  smell,  holy,  acceptable  unto  God. 

— Spurgeon. 

10.  Afflictions  prepare  us  for  greater  happiness 
and  honour. 

(214.)  Not  only  does  the  Lord  always  advance  by 
afflictions  the  spiritual  and  everlasting  good  of  the 
faithful,  but  somet'mes  also  turns  them  to  their 
greater  benefit  evec  in  the  thinj.s  of  this  life.     A§ 


we  may  see  in  the  example  of  Joseph,  who  was  sold 
as  a  slave  that  he  might  be  made  a  great  commander, 
and  lost  his  patrimony  at  home  that  he  might  re- 
ceive a  much  more  large  inheritance  in  a  strange 
country  ;  and  therefore  he  professes  that  when  his 
brethren  intended  evil  against  him,  God  disposed 
it  to  the  good,  not  of  himself  alone,  but  of  many 
others. 

And  thus  also  Job  by  his  afflictions  was  not  only 
assured  of  heavenly  glory,  but  also  got  endless  fame 
on  earth,  and  was  not  alone  enriched  much  more 
with  God's  spiritual  graces,  but  also  had  a  twofold 
increase  in  his  worldly  estate. 

Neither  ought  this  to  seem  strange,  that  God 
through  His  infinite  wisdon  and  power  should  be 
able  to  bring  happiness  out  of  misery,  comfort  out 
of  crosses,  and  so  much  good  out  of  tl»ese  afflictions 
which  both  to  the  flesh  and  the  world  seem  so  evil ; 
seeing  it  is  a  familiar  course  with  earthly  physicians, 
by  medicines  to  make  men  weaker  that  they  may 
recover  strength,  and  sicker  for  the  present  that  they 
may  be  more  healthy  ever  after  ;  and  with  surgeons 
to  cut,  lance,  and  torment  their  patients  with  tor- 
turing corrosives,  that  they  may  cure  their  wounds 
and  give  them  perfect  ease  for  the  time  to  come. 
— Dow  name,  1644. 

11.  Afflictions  are  among  the  means  which  God 
uses  to  make  us  "  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  th« 
saints  in  light." 

(215.)  "  Eveiy  branch  that  beareth  fruit.  He 
purgeth  it,  that  it  may  bring  forth  more  fruit." 
They  assuredly  are  right  who  recognise  in  this 
"He  purgeth"  no  direct,  but  only  a  secondary, 
allusion  to  temptations  and  afflictions,  as  the  means 
by  which  the  purging  is  effected.  It  is  the  whole 
process  of  sanctification,  the  circumcision  of  the 
Spirit,  by  whatever  discipline  brought  about,  of 
which  Christ  is  speaking,  and  to  which  He  pledges 
His  Father  here.  At  the  same  time,  seeing  that 
afflictions  play  so  large,  so  necessary  a  part  in  the 
process  of  sanctification,  it  is  in  a  secondary  sense 
most  true  that  there  is  here  a  reference  to  these. 
Regarded  as  a  means  of  this  purifying,  as  an  evi- 
dence of  the  intention  of  the  Heavenly  Husbandman 
that  the  fruit-bearing  branches  shall  be  more  fruit- 
ful still,  these  may  be  welcomed,  may  be  contem- 
plated in  some  sort  as  rewards  of  obedience.  St. 
James  bids  the  faithful  to  welcome  them,  for  the 
blessing  they  bring  with  them  (i.  2-4,  12,  and 
compare  Heb.  xii.  11  ;  Rom.  v.  3-5).  To  how 
many  dealings  of  God  with  His  own,  mysterious, 
inscrutable,  inexplicable  otherwise,  will  this,  kept 
properly  in  mind,  furnish  us  with  a  key  !  Often- 
times the  fine  gold  of  some  saint  appears  to  us  as 
if  cleansed  from  all  its  dross ; '  but  the  inexorable 
refiner,  who  sees  with  other  eyes  than  ours,  and 
detects  remains  of  dross  where  we  see  only  gold, 
flings  it  again  into  the  furnace,  that  so  it  may  be 
purer  yet.  Augustine  has  a  striking  'mage  in  illus- 
tration. Many  a  time,  he  observes,  a  portrait  seems 
perfect  in  the  judgment  of  all  eyes  save  those  of  the 
artist  who  drew  it.  Others  would  fain  see  him  now 
to  hold  his  hand  ;  they  count  that  he  cannot  im- 
prove it,  perhaps  may  mar  it ;  but  he  returns  it  to 
the  easel,  touches  and  retouches  still.  And  why  ? 
Because,  being  this  artist,  there  floats  before  his 
mind's  eye  an  ideal  perfection,  to  which  hitherto  his 
work  has  not  attained,  but  to  which  he  would  fain 
see  it  apcroach  more  nearly  yet. 

— Trench, 


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(     34     ) 


AFFLICTION. 


12.  Our  aflaictions  axe  but  "  for  a  moment." 

(2 1 6.)  Often  at  sea  men  are  heartily  sick,  yet  no 
man  hardly  there  doth  mind  or  pity  them,  because 
the  malady  is  not  supposed  dangerous,  and  within 
a  while  the  sight  of  land  will  relieve  them.  It  is 
our  case  :  we  passing  over  this  troublesome  sea  of 
life  ;  from  inexperience,  joined  with  the  tenderness 
of  our  constitution,  the  changes  and  crosses  of  for- 
tune make  us  nauseate  all  things,  and  appear  sorely 
distempered ;  yet  is  not  our  condition  so  dismal 
as  it  seems ;  we  may  grow  hardier,  and  wear  out 
our  sense  of  affliction  ;  however,  the  land  is  not 
far  off,  and  by  disembarking  hence  we  shall  sud- 
denly be  discharged  of  all  our  molestations.  It  is 
a  common  solace  of  grief,  approved  by  wise  men, 
si  gravis,  bi'evis  est ;  si  longus,  levis ;  if  it  be  very 
grievous  and  acute  it  cannot  continue  long,  without 
intermission  or  respite  ;  if  it  abide  long,  it  is  sup- 
portable ;  intolerable  pain  is  like  lightning,  it  de- 
stroys us,  or  is  itself  instantly  destroyed.  However, 
death  at  length  (which  is  never  far  off)  will  free  us ; 
be  we  never  so  much  tossed  with  storms  of  mis- 
fortune, that  is  a  sure  haven  ;  let  what  pains  or 
diseases  soever  infest  us,  that  is  an  infallible  remedy 
for  them  all.  Shall  I  die  ?  I  shall  then  cease  to 
be  sick ;  I  shall  be  exempted  from  disgrace ;  I 
shall  be  enlarged  from  prison  ;  I  shall  be  no  more 
pinched  for  want ;  no  more  tormented  with  pain. 
Death  is  a  winter,  that  as  it  withers  the  rose  and 
lily,  so  it  kills  the  nettle  and  thistle ;  as  it  stifles 
all  worldly  joy  and  pleasure,  so  it  suppresses  all 
care  and  grief;  as  it  hushes  the  voice  of  mirth  and 
melody,  so  it  stills  the  clamours  and  the  sighs  of 
miseiy,  as  it  defaces  all  the  world's  glory,  so  it 
covers  all  disgrace,  wipes  off  all  tears,  silences  all 
complaint,  buries  all  disquiet  and  discontent. 

Barrozu,  1630-1677. 

13.  Our  light  affliction  "  is  but  for  a  moment." 
(217.)  Oh,  comfort  one  another,  Christians,  with 

this ;  though  your  life  be  evil  with  troubles,  yet 
'tis  short ;  a  few  steps,  and  you  are  out  of  the  rain. 
There  is  a  great  difference  between  a  saint  in  re- 
gard of  the  evils  he  meets  with,  and  the  wicked  ; 
as  two  travellers  riding  contrary  ways,  both  taken 
in  the  rain  and  wet ;  but  one  rides  from  the  rain, 
and  so  is  soon  out  of  the  shower ;  but  the  other 
rides  into  the  rainy  corner ;  the  farther  he  goes  the 
worse  he  is.  The  saint  meets  with  troubles  as 
well  as  the  wicked,  but  he  is  soon  out  of  the 
shower ;  when  death  comes,  he  has  fair  weather ; 
but  the  wicked,  the  farther  he  goes,  the  worse  ; 
what  he  meets  with  here  is  but  a  few  drops,  the 
great  storm  is  the  last.  The  pouring  out  of  God's 
wrath  shall  be  in  hell,  where  all  the  deeps  of  horror 
are  opened,  both  from  above  of  God's  righteous 
fury,  and  from  beneath  of  their  own  accusing  and 
tormenting  consciences. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(218.)  Affliction  may  be  compared  to  frost ;  it 
will  break,  and  spring-flowers  will  come  on.  *'  Sor- 
row and  sighing  shall  fly  away."  Affliction  hath  a 
sting,  but  withal  a  wing,  sorrow  shall  fly  away ; 
this  land-flood  shall  be  dried  up. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

14.  Our  present  sorrows  are  not  to  be  compared 
With  the  glory  which  Is  to  be  revealed  in  us. 

(219.)  As  the  globe  of  the  earth,  which,  impro- 
perly for  its  g-eat  show  and  bigness,  we  term  the 
world,  and  is,   »fter  the   matliematician'»  account, 


many  thousands  of  miles  in  compass,  yet,  being 
compared  unto  the  greatness  of  the  starry  sky's 
circumference,  is  but  a  centre  or  a  little  prick  :  so 
the  sorrows  of  this  life  temporal,  in  respect  of  the 
joys  eternal  in  the  world  to  come,  bear  not  any  pro- 
portion, but  are  to  be  reputed  as  nothing,  or  as  a 
dark  cloud  that  cometh  and  goetb  in  a  moment. 
— Boys,  1 560-1643. 

15.  Our  present  sorrows  will  give  zest  to  oui 
future  joys. 

(220.)  By  our  afflictions  our  ensuing  prosperity  is 
made  more  delightful  and  grateful ;  these  bitter 
crosses  make  us  to  relish  much  better  the  sweetness 
of  God's  blessings.  The  sparing  of  the  coarsest 
fare  makes  it  to  have  a  good  relish,  and  to  become 
pleasant  to  the  taste  and  appetite  (Prov.  xxvii.  7). 
The  day's  brightness,  if  it  were  continual,  would 
become  tedious  ;  and  the  glorious  light  of  the  sun 
would  bring  weariness,  unless  it  were  made  grateful 
by  the  night's  darkness. 

In  a  word,  pleasure  itself  would  not  long  please 
us,  if  the  glutting  satiety,  of  these  sweetmeats  were 
not  taken  away  by  abstinence,  or  sauced,  as  it 
were,  with  the  sour  sauce  of  intermingled  miseries. 
Health  when  it  is  continually  enjoyed  is  scarce 
thought  on,  but  then  it  is  sweet  and  most  highly 
prized  when  we  have  long  wanted  it.  Liberty, 
though  it  be  precious  as  life,  is  but  little  regarded  of 
those  who  have  never  felt  the  misery  of  restraint ; 
but  after  long  imprisonment  it  becomes  most 
delightful.  Riches  are  most  esteemed  by  those  who 
ha;'e  formerly  been  pinched  with  poverty,  and  meat 
is  most  savoury  when  it  is  sauced  with  hunger. 
That  victory  is  fullest  of  joy  which  is  hardly 
obtained  after  a  long,  doubtful,  and  dangerous 
fight ;  and  the  safe  harbour  is  then  descried  with 
njost  comfort  of  the  passengers,  after  they  have 
escaped  the  perils  of  tempestuous  storms.  The 
delights  of  the  spring  are  much  more  delightful 
because  they  follow  the  nipping  frosts  and  foul 
weather  of  lowering  winter.  All  pleasures  become 
much  more  pleasing,  when  they  succeed  and  are 
interchanged  with  miseries.  In  all  human  affairs 
there  can  scarce  be  any  true  joy,  unless  doleful  sor- 
rows have  gone  before,  and  the  bitterness  of  some 
passed  griefs  doth  the  more  commend  the  sweetness 
of  ensuing  gladness. 

Therefore,  seeing  by  these  afflictions  the  Lord 
doth  but  sauce  His  benefits  that  we  may  enjoy 
them  with  the  more  delight,  and  takes  away  for  a 
while  the  earthly  blessings  that  after  they  are 
restored  they  may  bring  with  them  the  greater 
pleasure,  let  us  by  this  consideration  be  moved  to 
bear  these  crosses  with  patience  :  and  as  the 
usurer,  though  he  make  an  idol  of  his  god,  yet  is 
content  to  want  it  for  a  time,  because  when  the 
term  is  expired  he  expects  to  have  it  with  some 
increase  ;  so,  though  our  hearts  too  much  adhere  to 
earthly  things,  yet  let  us  be  content  to  forbear  their 
company  for  a  while,  seeing  upon  their  return  the 
joy  and  comfort  which  we  take  in  them  shall  be 
much  increased.  — Downame,  1644. 

16.  Afflictions  bring  ub  even  now  into  closer 
communion  with  God. 

(221.)  Hast  thou  seen  the  rainbow  in  the  blue 
sky,  when  the  bright  sun  shineth  without  a  cloud 
in  the  summer's  heaven  ?  Hast  thou  seen  it  in  the 
driving  tempest,  when  the  whole  horizon  gathered 
blackness  ?    No ;  but  when  the  cloud  of  rain  waa 


AFFLICTION. 


(    35    ) 


AFFLICTION. 


in  the  sky,  and  the  sun  looked  upon  it  from  the 
otlier  side  of  licaven,  then  did  the  falling  drops 
receive  the  slanting  beams,  and  untwisting  their 
seven  colours,  return  them  to  the  eye  of  the 
beholder,  a  beautiful  bow,  "a  faithful  witness," 
the  truth  of  God.  And  thus  it  is  not  chiefly  in  the 
bright  season  of  worldly  comfort  that  the  faithful 
witness  of  God  is  seen  and  felt ;  nor  is  it  always  in 
the  season  of  affliction  ;  for  affliction  may  be  un- 
sanclified.  But  when  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
sendeth  forth  Mis  bright  beams  into  the  cloud  of 
tribulation,  then  is  the  faithfulness  of  God  per- 
ceived, then  is  His  love  felt,  then  are  His  promises 
enjoyed,  then  "  we  glorv  in  tribulations  also,  know- 
ing that  tribulation  worketh  patience,"  &c. 

— SalUr,  X840. 

Vir.  OUR  AFFLICTIONS  ARE  INTERMIT- 
TENT. 

(222.)  Our  troubles  are  not  at  all  times  alike 
troubles  to  us.  Even  the  sea  ceases  its  motion  at 
times,  and  its,  surf  forgets  to  murmur.  Griefs  and 
cares,  bitter  memories,  and  heavy  troubles  intermit 
their  tyranny,  and  come  ayain  with  redoubled 
oppressions.  Like  tides,  sonvrv.  seems  sometimes 
to  flow  out,  and  leave  the  sands  bare.  But  again 
they  sometimes  rush  in  upon  us  like  tides,  as  if  they 
feared  that  something  should  have  snatched  from 
them  their  lawful  prey.  — Beecher, 

VIII.    IS  NOT  IN  ITSELF  SANCTIFYING. 

(223.)  To  the  wicked  the  issue  is  sad  ;  first,  ii. 
regard  of  sin,  they  leave  them  worse,  more  impeni- 
tent, hardened  in  sin,  and  outrageous  in  their  wicked 
practices.  Every  plague  on  Egypt  added  to  the 
plague  of  hardness  on  Pharaoh's  heart.  He  that 
for  some  while  could  beg  prayers  of  Moses  for  him- 
self, at  last  comes  to  that  pass,  that  he  threatens  to 
kill  him  if  he  come  to  him  any  more.  Oh,  what  a 
prodigious  height  do  we  see  many  come  to  in  sin, 
after  some  great  sickness  or  other  judgment ! 
Children  do  not  more  shoot  up  in  their  bodily 
stature  after  an  ague,  than  they  in  their  lusts  after 
afflictions.  Oh,  how  greedy  and  ravenous  are  they 
after  their  prey,  when  they  once  get  off"  their  clog  and 
chain  from  their  heels  !  When  physic  works  not 
kindly,  it  doth  not  only  leave  the  disease  uncured, 
but  the  poison  of  the  physic  stays  in  the  body  also. 
Many  appear  thus  poisoned  by  their  afflictions,  by 
the  breakmg  out  of  their  lust  afterward. 

Secondly,  In  regard  of  sorrow.  Every  affliction 
on  a  wicked  person  produceth  another,  and  that  a 
greater  than  itself.  The  greatest  wedge  comes  at 
last,  which  shall  rive  him  fit  for  the  fire.  The 
sinner  is  whipt  from  affliction  to  affliction,  as  the 
vagrant  from  constable  to  constable,  till  at  last  he 
comes  to  hell,  his  proper  place  and  settled  abode, 
where  all  sorrows  will  meet  in  one  that  is  endless. 
—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(224.)  One  may  have  trouble  for  sin,  yet  not  be  a 
new  creature.  Trouble  of  spirit  may  appear,  while 
God's  judgments  lie  upon  men  ;  when  these  are 
removed,  their  trouble  ceaseth.  "When  He  slew 
them,  then  they  sought  Him  ;  nevertheless  they 
did  flatter  Him  with  their  lips"  (Ps.  Ixxviii.  36). 
Metal  that  melts  in  a  furnace,  take  it  out  of  the 
furnace,  and  it  returns  to  its  former  hardness  :  many 
in  time  of  sickness  seem  to  be  like  melted  metal : 
what  weeping  and  wringing  of  hands  !  what  con- 
fessisas  of  sin  will  they  make  I     Do  not  the^e  look 


like  new  creatures  ?  But  as  soon  as  they  recover, 
they  are  as  bad  as  ever ;  their  pangs  go  off  again, 
and  it  never  comes  to  a  new  birth. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(225.)  AfiQiction  has  a  tendency,  especially  if 
long  continued,  to  generate  a  kind  of  despondency 
and  ill-temper  ;  and  spiritual  incapacity  is  closely 
connected  with  pain  and  sickness.  l"he  spirit  of 
prayer  does  not  necessarily  come  with  affliction.  If 
this  be  not  poured  out  upon  the  man,  he  will,  like  a 
wounded  beast,  skulk  to  his  den,  and  growl  there. 
—  Cecil,    1 743-1 8 10. 

(226.)  Affliction  has  its  dangers  as  well  as  pros- 
perity. The  one  is  a  smooth  sea  with  rocks  beneath 
the  shining  surface.  The  other  is  a  troubled  ocean 
in  a  dark  and  stormy  night. 

(227.)  The  apostle  rejoiced,  not  that  the  Corin- 
thiat  s  sorrowed,  but  that  they  sorrowed  unto  repent- 
ance. Sorrow  has  two  results ;  it  may  end  in 
spiritual  life,  or  in  spiritual  death  ;  and  in  them- 
selves one  of  these  is  as  natural  as  the  other.  Sorrow 
may  produce  two  kinds  of  reformation — a  transient, 
or  a  permanent  one — an  alteration  in  habits,  which 
originating  in  emotion,  will  last  so  long  as  that 
emotion  continues,  and  then  after  a  few  fruitless 
efforts,  be  given  up — a  repentance  which  will  be 
repented  of;  or,  again,  a  permanent  change,  which 
will  be  reversed  by  no  after-thought — a  repentance 
not  to  be  repented  of  Sorrow  is  in  itself,  therefore, 
a  thing  neither  good  nor  bad  ;  its  value  depends  on 
the  spirit  of  the  person  on  whom  it  falls.  Fire  will 
inflame  straw,  soften  iron,  or  harden  clay ;  its 
effects  are  determined  by  the  object  with  which  it 
comes  in  contact.  Warmth  develops  the  energies 
of  life,  or  helps  the  progress  of  decay.  It  is  a  great 
power  in  the  hot-house,  a  great  power  also  in  the 
cofhn  ;  it  expands  the  leaf,  matures  the  fruit,  add* 
precocious  vigour  to  vegetable  life ;  and  warmth, 
too,  develops,  with  tenfold  rapidity,  the  weltering 
process  of  dissolution.  So,  too,  with  sorrow.  There 
are  spirits  in  which  it  develops  the  seminal  principle 
of  life ;  there  are  others  in  which  it  prematurely 
hastens  the  consummation  of  irreparable  decay. 

—F.  W.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(228.)  Trust  not  in  any  unsanctified  afflictions,  as  if 
these  could  permanently  and  really  change  the  true 
condition  of  your  heart.  I  have  seen  the  characters 
of  the  writing  which  the  flames  had  turned  into  a 
film  of  buoyant  coal ;  I  have  seen  the  thread  which 
has  been  passed  through  the  fire  retain,  in  its  cold 
grey  ashes,  the  twist  it  had  got  in  spinning ;  I  have 
found  every  shivered  splinter  of  the  flint  as  hard  as 
the  unbroken  stone  :  and  let  trials  come,  in  provi- 
dence, sharp  as  the  fire  and  ponderous  as  the  crush- 
ing hammer,  unless  a  gracious  God  send  along  with 
these  something  else  than  these,  bruised,  broken, 
bleeding  as  thy  heart  may  be,  its  nature  remains  the 
same.  — Gut/uie. 

IX.  ITS  DIVERSE  EFFECTS. 
(229.)  The  stalk  and  the  ear  of  com  fall  upon  the 
threshing-floor  under  one  and  the  same  flail,  but  the 
one  is  shattered  in  pieces,  the  othe"-  preserved.  From 
one  and  the  same  olive,  and  from  under  one  and  the 
same  press,  is  crushed  out  both  oil  and  dregs,  but 
the  one  is  tunned  up  for  use,  the  other  thrown  out  a.s 
unserviceable  ;  and  by  one  and  the  same  breath  the 
fields  are  perfumed  with  sweetness,  and  annoyed 
with  unpleasant  savours.     Thus  afflictions  are  inci- 


AFFLICTION. 


(     36    ) 


AMBITION. 


dental  to  gcod  and  bad,  may  and  do  befall  both  alike, 
but  by  the  providence  of  God  not  upon  the  same 
account.  Good  men  are  put  into  tlie  furnace  for 
their  trial,  bad  men  for  their  ruin  ;  the  one  is  sancti- 
fied by  afflictions,  the  other  made  far  worse  than 
before ;  the  self-same  aflliction  is  as  a  loadstone  to 
the  one,  to  draw  him  to  heaven,  as  a  millstone  to 
the  other,  to  sink  him  down  into  hell. 

— Pinto,  1584. 

(230.)  There  is  as  much  difference  between  the 
sufi'erings  of  the  saints  and  those  of  the  ungodly  as 
there  is  between  the  cords  with  which  an  executioner 
pinions  a  condemned  malefactor  and  the  bandages 
wherewith  a  tender  surgeon  binds  his  patient. 

— Arrowsmith,  1602-1659. 

(231.)  Afflictions  sent  by  Providence  melt  the 
constancy  of  the  noble-minded,  but  confirm  the 
obduracy  of  the  vile.  The  same  furnace  that  hardens 
clay  liquefies  gold  ;  and  in  the  strong  manifestations 
of  divine  power  Pharaoh  found  his  punishment,  but 
David  his  pardon.  — Colton,  1832. 

{232.)  How  different  are  summer  storms  from 
winter  ones  1  In  winter  they  rush  over  the  earth 
with  their  violence ;  and  if  any  poor  remnants  of 
foliage  or  flowers  have  lingered  behind,  these  are 
swept  along  at  one  gust.  Nothing  is  left  but  deso- 
lation ;  and  long  after  the  rain  has  ceased,  pools  of 
water  and  mud  bear  tokens  of  what  has  been.  But 
when  the  clouds  have  poured  out  their  torrents  in 
summer,  when  the  winds  have  spent  their  fury,  and 
the  sun  breaks  forth  again  in  glovy,  all  things  seem 
to  rise  with  renewed  loveliness  from  their  refreshing 
bath.  The  flowers,  glistening  with  rainbows,  smell 
tweeter  than  before  ;  the  grass  seems  to  have  gained 
another  brighter  shade  of  green ;  and  the  young 
plants  which  had  hardly  come  into  sight,  have  taken 
their  place  among  their  fellows  in  the  borders,  so 
quickly  have  they  sprung  among  the  showers.  The 
air,  too,  which  may  previously  have  been  oppressive, 
is  become  clear,  and  soft,  and  fresh.  Such,  too,  is 
the  difference  when  the  storms  of  affliction  fall  on 
hearts  unrenewed  by  Christian  faith  and  on  those 
who  abide  in  Christ.  In  the  former,  they  bring  out 
the  dreariness  and  desolation  which  may  before  have 
been  unapparent.  The  gloom  is  not  relieved  by  the 
prospect  of  any  cheering  ray  to  follow  it ;  of  any 
flowers  or  fruits  to  show  its  beneficence.  But  in  the 
true  Christian  soul,  "though  weeping  may  endure 
for  a  night,  joy  cometh  in  the  morning."  A  sweet 
smile  of  hope  and  love  follows  every  tear  ;  and  tribu- 
lation itself  is  turned  into  the  chief  of  blessings. 

— Spurgeon. 

(233.)  •'  You  smell  delightfully  fragrant,"  said  the 
Gravel-walk  to  a  bed  of  Camomile  flowers  under  the 
window. 

"  We  have  been  trodden  on,"  replied  the  Camo- 
miles. 

"Does  that  cause  it?"  asked  the  Gravel-walk. 
"  Treading  on  me  produces  no  sweetness." 

"  Our  natures  are  difierent,"  answered  the  Camo- 
miles. "  Gravel-walks  become  only  the  harder  by 
being  trodden  upon  ;  but  the  effect  on  our  own  selves 
is,  that  if  pressed  and  bruised  when  the  dew  is  upon 
us,  to  give  forth  the  sweet  smell  which  you  now  per- 


ceive. 


— Bowden. 


X.    SHOULD  BE   ANTICIPATED   AND    PRE- 
PARED FOR. 

(234.)  Look  for  them.      The  first  day  .tliai  we 


begin  to  be  Christians  we  must  reckon  of  the  cioss. 

Christ  has  drr.wn  up  the  form  of  our  indenture,  to 
which  every  one  must  yield  and  consent  before  he 
can  call  Him  Master.  "  If  any  man  will  come  after 
me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and 
follow  Me."  In  Luke  it  is,  "  take  up  liis  cross  daily." 
Though  there  be  fair  days  as  well  as  foul  in  Chris- 
tianity, yet  we  must  every  day  be  ready.  As  porters 
stand  in  the  street  waiting  for  a  burden  for  them  to 
carry  if  they  be  hired  to  it,  so  must  a  Christian  every 
day  be  prepared  to  take  up  his  burden,  if  God  shall 
call  him  to  it.  — Ma7iton,  1620- 166  7. 

(235.)  Be  prepared  for  afflictions.  To  this  end 
would  Christ  have  us  reckon  upon  the  cross,  that 
we  may  be  forewarned.  He  that  builds  a  house 
does  not  take  care  that  the  rain  should  not  descend 
upon  it,  or  the  storm  should  not  beat  upon  it,  or  the 
wind  blow  upon  it  ;  there  is  no  fencing  against  these 
things,  they  cannot  be  prevented  by  any  care  of  ours  ; 
but  that  the  house  may  be  able  to  endure  all  this 
without  prejudice.  And  he  that  builds  a  ship,  does 
not  make  this  his  work,  that  it  should  never  meet 
with  waves  and  billows,  that  is  impossible  ;  but  that 
it  may  be  light  and  staunch,  and  able  to  endure  all 
weathers.  A  man  that  takes  care  for  his  body  does 
not  care  for  this,  that  he  meet  with  no  change  of 
weather,  hot  and  cold,  but  how  his  body  may  bear 
all  this.  Thus  should  Christians  do  ;  not  so  much 
to  take  care  how  to  shift  and  avoid  afflictions,  but 
how  to  bear  them  with  an  even  quiet  mind.  As  we 
cannot  hinder  the  rain  from  falling  upon  the  house, 
nor  the  waves  from  beating  upon  the  ship,  nor  change 
of  weather  and  seasons  from  affecting  the  body,  so 
it  is  not  in  our  power  to  hinder  the  falling  out  of 
afflictions  and  tribulations  :  all  that  lies  upon  us,  is 
to  make  provision  for  such  an  hour,  that  we  be  not 
overwhelmed  by  it.  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

(236.)  Do  not  imagine  that  because  you  have 
hitherto  experienced  but  little  trouble,  your  path  shall 
always  be  smooth  and  easy.  No  ;  it  is  a  thorny 
wilderness  that  you  have  to  pass  through,  and  a 
troubled  ocean  that  you  have  to  navigate  ere  you  can 
reach  the  desired  haven.  The  mariner,  when 
scarcely  launched  upon  the  deep,  does  not  expect 
that  the  breeze  shall  be  alike  gentle  to  the  end  of  his 
voyage  ;  he  prepares  for  storms,  that  he  may  be 
ready  to  meet  them  when  they  come.  In  like  man- 
ner, you  also  will  do  well  to  prepare  for  seasons  of 
adversity  and  trial.  — Simeon,  1 758-1836. 


AMBITION. 

1.  Is  in  itself  a  beneficial  Impulse. 

(237.)  One  of  the  strongest  incitements  to  excel 
in  such  arts  and  accomplishments  as  are  in  the 
highest  esteem  among  men,  is  the  natural  passion 
which  the  mind  of  man  has  for  glory  ;  which  though 
it  may  be  faulty  in  the  excess  of  it,  ought  by  no 
means  to  be  discouraged.  Perhaps  some  moralists 
are  too  severe  in  beating  down  this  principle,  which 
seems  to  be  a  spring  implanted  by  nature  to  give 
motion  to  all  the  latent  powers  of  the  soul,  and  is 
always  observed  to  exert  itself  with  the  greatest 
force  in  the  most  generous  dispositions.  The  men 
whose  characters  have  shone  the  brightest  among 
the  ancient  Romans  appear  to  have  been  strongly 
animated  by  this  passion.  — Hughes. 


AMBITION. 


(    37    ) 


AMBITION. 


%,  Yet  the  craving  for  prominence  Is  often  the 
mark  of  a  poor  nattire. 

(238.)  The  nettle  mounteth  on  high;  while  the 
violet  shrouds  itself  under  its  own  leaves,  and  is 
chiefly  found  out  by  its  fiagrancy.  Let  Christians  be 
satisfied  with  the  honour  that  comoth  from  God  only. 

— Salter,  1840, 

3.  It  is  usually  unwise. 

(239.)  Seek  not  great  things  for  yourselves  in  this 
world,  for  if  your  garments  be  too  long,  they  will 
make  you  stumble  ;  and  one  staff  helps  a  man  in 
his  journey,  when  many  in  his  hands  at  once  hin- 
ders him ;  but  labour  to  do  great  things  for  God, 
and  God  will  do  great  things  for  you. 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(240.)  Who  would  not  be  covetous,  and  with 
reason,  if  health  could  be  purchased  with  gold  ? 
Who  not  ambitious,  if  it  were  at  the  command  of 
power,  or  restored  by  honour  ?  But,  alas  !  a  white 
staff  will  not  help  gouty  feet  to  walk  better  than  a 
common  cane  ;  nor  a  blue  ribbon  bind  up  a  wound 
so  well  as  a  fillet ;  the  glitter  of  gold  or  of  diamonds 
will  but  hurt  sore  eyes,  instead  of  curing  them  ;  and 
an  aching  head  will  be  no  more  eased  by  wearing  a 
crown  instead  of  a  common  night-cap. 

— Sir.  W.  Temple, 

4.  It  blinds  the  understanding. 

(241.)  Ambition  is  to  the  mind  what  the  cap  is 
to  the  falcon,  it  first  blinds  us,  and  then  compels  us 
to  lower,  by  reason  of  our  blindness. 

— E,  Cook. 

6.  It  Is  unsatiable. 

(242.)  Ambition  is  like  the  sea  which  swallows 
all  the  rivers  and  is  none  the  fuller ;  or  like  the 
grave  whose  insatiable  maw  for  ever  craves  for  the 
bodies  of  men.  It  is  not  like  an  amphora,  which 
being  full  receives  no  more,  bul  its  fulness  swells  it 
till  a  still  greater  vacuum  is  formed.  In  all  proba- 
bility, Napoleon  never  longed  for  a  sceptre  till  he 
had  gained  the  baton,  nor  dreamed  of  being  emperor 
of  Europe  'ill  he  had  gained  the  crown  of  France. 
Caligula,  with  the  world  at  his  feet,  was  mad  with 
a  longing  for  the  moon,  and  could  he  have  gained 
it  the  imperial  lunatic  would  have  coveted  the  sun. 
It  is  in  vain  to  feed  a  fire  which  grows  the  more 
voracious  the  more  it  is  supplied  with  fuel ;  he  who 
lives  to  satisfy  his  ambition  has  before  him  the 
labour  of  Sisyphus,  who  rolled  up  hill  an  ever- 
rebounding  stone,  and  the  task  of  the  daughters  of 
Uanaus,  who  are  condemned  for  ever  to  attempt  to 
fill  a  bottomless  vessel  with  buckets  full  of  holes. 

— Spiirgeon, 

6.  It  causes  men  to  set  aside  all  moral  restraints. 

(243.)  What  are  not  men  ready  to  do  to  gratify  an 
inordinate  and  insatiate  ambition  !  You  know  how 
the  old  Romans  built  their  military  road  5.  They  pro- 
jected'them  in  a  mathematical  line,  straight  to  the 
point  of  termination,  and  everything  had  to  give  way, 
there  could  be  no  deviation.  And  so  on  went  the 
road,  bridging  rivers,  filling  up  ravines,  hewing 
down  hills,  levelling  forests,  cutting  its  way  through 
every  obstacle  !  Just  so  men  set  their  lust  upon 
self-emolument,  some  height  of  ambition,  the  attain- 
ment of  place,  rank,  power,  and  hew  their  way  to- 
ward it,  not  minding  what  gives  way.  No  obstacle 
is  insurmountable,  health,  happiness,  home-comfort, 
honesty,  integrity,  conscience,  the  law  of  God, 
everything  is  sacrificed  to  the  god  of  ambition  ! 

— A    71  Fierson, 


7.  It  exposes  us  to  bitter  disappointments. 

(244.)  Ambition  may  rear  turrets  in  emulation  (A 
heaven,  and  vainglory  build  castles  in  the  air ;  but 
they  shall  have  no  roof,  as  the  latter  shall  have  no 
foundation.  Philip  threatened  the  Lacedemonians, 
that,  as  he  entered  their  country,  he  would  utterly 
extinguish  them.  They  wrote  him  no  other  answer 
but  Si  (if) ;  meaning,  it  was  a  condition  well  put  in, 
for  he  was  never  like  to  come  there. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(245.)  Could  we  know  the  secret  heart-breaks  and 
wearinesses  of  ambitious  men,  we  should  need  no 
Wolsey's  voice  crying,  "I  charge  thee,  fling  away 
ambition  ; "  but  we  should  flee  from  it  as  from  the 
most  accursed  blood-sucking  vampire  which  ever 
uprose  from  the  caverns  of  hell."        — Spiirgeon. 

8.  The  penalties  of  successful  ambition  more  than 
outweigh  its  pleasures. 

(246.)  Envy,  a  mischief  not  to  be  avoided  of  the 
great.  This  shadow  follows  ihat  body  inseparably. 
All  the  curs  in  the  street  are  ready  to  fall  upon  that 
dog  that  does  away  with  the  bone  ;  and  every  man 
hath  a  cudgel  to  fling  at  a  well-loaded  tree  ;  whereas 
a  mean  condition  is  no  eyesore  to  any  beholder. 
Low  shrubs  are  not  wont  to  be  struck  with  lightning  ; 
but  tall  oaks  and  cedars  feel  their  flames.  While 
David  kept  his  father's  sheep  at  home,  he  might 
sing  sweetly  to  his  harp  in  the  fields  without  any 
disturbance  ;  but  when  he  once  comes  to  the  court, 
and  finds  applause  and  greatness  creep  upon  him, 
now  emulation,  despite,  and  malice,  dog  him 
close  at  the  heels  wheresoever  he  goes.  Let  him 
leave  the  court,  and  flee  into  the  wilderness ;  there 
these  bloodhounds  follow  him  in  hot  suit.  Let  him 
run  into  the  land  of  the  Philistines;  there  they  find 
him  out,  and  chase  him  to  Ziklag.  And  if  at  the 
last  he  hath  climbed  up  to  his  just  throne,  and 
there  hopes  to  breathe  him  after  his  tedious  pursuit, 
even  there  he  meets  with  more  unquietness  than  in  the 
desert ;  and,  notwithstanding  all  his  royalty,  at  last 
cries  out,  "  Lord,  remember  David  and  all  his 
troubles."  How  many  have  we  known  whom  their 
wealth  hath  betrayed,  and  made  innocent  male- 
factors !  who  might  have  slept  seciie'y  upon  a 
hard  bolster,  and,  in  a  poor  estate,  outlived  their 
judges  and  accusers  !  Besides,  on  even  ground,  a 
fall  may  be  harmless ;  but  he  that  falls  from  on  high 
cannot  escape  bruising.  He  therefore  that  can  think 
the  benefits  of  eminence  can  countervail  the  dangers 
which  haunt  greatness,  let  him  affect  to  overtop 
others  :  for  me,  let  me  rather  be  safely  low  than 
high  with  peril.  — //a//,  15  74- 1656. 

(247.)  As  for  worldly  greatness,  affect  neither  the 
thing  nor  the  reputation  of  it.  Look  up,  if  you 
please,  to  the  top  of  steeples,  masts,  and  moun- 
tains, but  stand  below  if  you  would  be  safe. 
Though  the  chimney  be  the  highest  part  of  the 
house,  it  is  not  the  cleanest  or  the  sweetest  part ; 
it  is  more  scorched  with  th^  fire  and  suffocated 
with  the  smoke  than  other  parts. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(248.)  The  tallest  trees  are  most  in  the  power  of 
the  winds,  and  ambitious  men  most  exposed  to  the 
blast  of  fortunes.  — E.  Cook. 

9.  Its  triumphs  are  soon  ended. 

(249.)  I  cannot  but  look  upon  all  the  glory  and 
dignity  of  this  world,  lands  and  lordships,  crowns 


ANGELS. 


(    38    ) 


ANGELS. 


and  kingdoms,  even  as  on  some  brain-sick,  beggarly 
fellow,  that  borrows  fine  clothes,  and  plays  the 
part  of  a  king  or  lord  for  an  hour  on  a  stage,  and 
then  comes  down,  and  the  sport  is  ended,  and  they 
are  beggars  again.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

10.  It  mu£t  be  checked  In  its  commenceinent. 
(250.)  The   smallest    root   of  it,  if  not    quickly 

p'ucked  up,  presently  becomes  a  tree,  the  deep  and 
strong  roots  whereof  twine  about  the  heart. 

— Fenelon. 

11.  There  Is  a  Christian  ambition  by  which  we 
should  all  be  inspired. 

(251.)  lie  who  diffuses  the  most  happiness  and 
mitigates  the  most  distress  within  his  own  circle  is 
undoubtedly  the  best  friend  to  his  country  and  the 
world,  since  nothing  more  is  necessary  than  for  all 
men  to  imitate  his  conduct,  to  make  the  greatest  part  of 
the  misei7  of  the  world  cease  in  a  moment.  While 
the  passion,  then,  of  some  is  to  shine,  of  some  to 
govern,  and  of  others  to  accumulate,  let  one  great 
passion  alone  intluence  our  breasts,  the  passion 
which  reason  ratifies,  which  conscience  approves, 
which  Heaven  inspires,— that  of  being  and  doing 
good.  — Robert  Hall,  1764-1831. 


ANGELS,  THE. 

1.  Reasonableness  of  belief  in  their  existence. 

{252.)  There  are  many  who  deny  the  existence 
of  any  spiritual  beings  save  God  and  man.  The 
wide  universe  is  to  them  a  solitary  land,  without 
inhabitants.  There  is  but  one  oasis  filled  with 
living  creatures.  It  is  the  earth  on  which  we  move  ; 
and  we,  who  have  from  century  to  century  crawled 
from  birth  to  death,  and  fretted  out  our  little  lives 
upon  this  speck  of  star-dust  which  sparkles  amid  a 
million,  million  others  upon  the  mighty  plain  of 
infinite  space,  we  are  the  only  living  spirits.  There 
is  something  pitiable  in  this  impertinence.  It  is  a 
drop  of  dew  in  the  lonely  cup  of  a  gentian,  which 
imagines  itself  to  be  all  the  water  in  the  universe. 
It  is  the  summer  midge  which  has  never  left  its 
forest  pool,  dreaming  that  it  and  its  companions 
are  the  only  living  creatures  in  earth  or  air. 

There  is  no  proof  of  the  existence  of  other  beings 
than  ourselves,  but  there  is  also  no  proof  of  the 
contrary.  Apart  from  revelation,  we  can  think 
about  the  subject  as  we  please.  But  it  does  seem 
incredible  that  we  alone  should  represent  in  the 
univeise  the  image  of  God  ;  and  if  in  one  solitaiy 
star  another  race  of  beings  dwell,  if  we  concede  the 
existence  of  a  single  spirit  other  than  ourselves,  we 
have  allowed  the  principle.  The  angelic  world  of 
which  the  Bible  speaks  is  possible  to  faith. 

— Stopford  Brooke. 

2.  How  little  we  know  of  them. 

(253.)  Little  is  said  [in  the  Bible]  of  angels. 
They  are  like  the  constellations  in  space  :  there  is 
light  enough  to  reveal,  to  show  that  they  are ;  but 
more  is  needed  to  reveal  all  their  nature  and  func- 
tions. — Henry  Batchelor. 

8.  Their  appearance  to  the  shepherds. 

(254.)  There  is  something  so  unspeakably  great 
and  glorious  in  this  union  of  earthly  obscurity  with 
heavenly  splendour,  of  angels  with  shepherds,  of 
tb"*  form  of  a  serva»  t  with  the  majesty  of  a  king, 


that  the  well-known  saying,  "It  is  not  thus  in- 
vented," can  never  be  better  applied  than  to  the 
whole  narrative.  — J.  J.  Van  Oosterzee. 

4.  Inseparable  frova.  our  conceptions  of  Christ. 
(255.)  Their  airy  and  gentle  coming  may  well  b<* 

compared  to  the  glory  of  colours  flung  by  the  sun 
upon  the  morning  clouds,  that  seem  tc  be  born  just 
where  they  appear.  Like  a  beam  of  lighi  striking 
through  some  orifice,  they  shine  upon  Zacharias  in 
the  temple.  As  the  morning  light  finds  the  flowers, 
so  they  found  the  mother  of  Jesus;  and  their  mes- 
sage fell  on  her,  pure  as  dewdrops  on  the  lily.  To 
the  shepherds'  eyes,  they  filled  the  midnight  arch 
like  auroral  beams  of  light ;  but  not  as  silently,  for 
they  sang  more  marvellously  than  when  the  morn- 
ing stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God 
shouted  for  joy.  They  communed  with  the  Saviour 
in  His  gloiy  of  transfiguration,  sustained  Him  in 
the  anguish  of  the  garden,  watched  Him  at  the 
tomb ;  and  as  they  had  thronged  the  earth  at  His 
coming,  so  they  seem  to  have  hovered  in  the  air  in 
multitudes  at  the  hour  of  His  ascension.  Beautiful 
as  they  seem,  they  are  never  mere  poetical  adorn- 
ments. The  occasions  of  their  appearing  are  grand, 
the  reasons  weighty,  and  their  demeanour  suggests 
and  befits  the  highest  conception  of  superior  beings. 
Their  very  coming  and  going  is  not  with  earthly 
movement.  They  are  suddenly  seen  in  the  air,  as 
one  sees  white  clouds  round  out  from  the  blue  sky 
in  a  summer's  day,  that  melt  back  even  while  one 
11  )oks  upon  them.  We  could  not  imagine  Christ' 
history  without  angelic  lore.  The  sun  without 
clouds  of  silver  and  gold,  the  morning  on  the  fields 
without  dew-diamonds,  but  not  the  Saviour  without 
His  angels.  — Bac/ur. 

5.  How  they  set  us  an  example. 

(256.)  No  sooner  did  one  angel  of  the  Lord 
announce  the  manifestation  of  God  in  the  flesh, 
than  the  whole  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host 
immediately  are  on  the  wing,  breaking  forth  into 
the  harmonious  praises  of  their  Creator,  that  by 
their  example  they  might  teach  us,  as  often  as  any 
one  of  our  brethren  should  proclaim  aloud  the  lessons 
of  Divine  wisdom,  or  as  often  as  we  ourselves  should 
ponder  on  any  sacred  truths  we  have  heard  or  read, 
that  we  should  at  once  give  praise  to  the  Lord  by 
word  of  mouth  and  in  our  hearts  and  lives. 

— Bede,  672-725. 

6.  Their  Interest  In  man. 

(257.)  The  interest  felt  by  the  angels  in  all  that 
concerns  the  Gospel,  and  the  eternal  interests  of 
men,  put  on  their  probation,  form  a  very  humbling 
contrast  to  our  cold  indift'erence  in  what  concerns  us 
much  more  nearly  than  them.  It  is  as  if,  on  a  ship 
nearing  a  lee  shore  in  the  midst  of  tremendous 
breakers,  while  every  inhabitant  of  the  neighbouring 
coast  was  watching  her  progress  with  beating  hearts, 
and  longing  to  see  her  delivered,  the  passengsrs  and 
crew  should  pursue  their  wonted  amusements ;  or, 
hanging  over  the  straining  sides,  idly  speculate  on 
the  number  of  billows,  and  sport  with  the  ragmg 
foam.  Alas  !  with  the  hosts  of  heaven  there  is  all 
sympathy  and  intense  interest — with  perishing  men, 
aJl  apathy  and  madness. 

7.  Their  care  for  God's  children. 

(258.)  Lot's  guests  were  his  best  friends ;  he  had 
entertained  angels,  and  they  now  deliver  him ;  he 


ANGELS. 


(    39    ) 


ANGER. 


would  have  preserved  them,  and  they  did  preserve 
him.  Where  should  the  angels  lodge,  but  with 
Lot  ?  The  houses  of  holy  men  are  full  of  those 
heavenly  spirits,  though  they  be  not  seen  ;  their 
protection  is  comfortable,  though  not  visible.  In 
our  tents  they  pitch  their  tents  ;  and  when  devils 
would  mischief  us,  they  turn  them  out  of  doors. 
It  is  the  honour  of  God's  saints  to  be  attended  by 
angels  while  in  life,  and  to  be  exalted  by  angels 
when  they  die.  Lazarus  was  "carried  by  angels 
into  Abraham's  bosom."  As,  in  a  family,  the 
greater  children  carry  the  less,  so  God  has  charged 
His  elder  sons,  the  angels,  to  bear  up  our  souls. 

— Adams,  1653. 

8.  Their  Joy  In  the  conversion  of  sinners. 

(259.)  "A  child  lost  in  the  forest  1"  Such  was 
the  cry  which  startled  the  inhabitants  of  a  remote 
and  thinly-populated  district  in  the  wilderness. 
After  a  search  of  three  days,  the  child  was  found, 
feint  and  famished,  and  well-nigh  dead  with  weari- 
ness and  terror.  With  songs  and  shouts  they  bore 
him  back  in  their  arms,  swift  runners  going  before, 
and  crying  "  Found,  Found  I"  The  entire  ham- 
hct  was  stirred  by  the  tidings,  and  broke  forth  into 
thanksgivings.  All  participated  in  the  happiness 
of  the  parents ;  and  though  there  were  a  hundred 
children  in  the  settlement,  more  joy  was  felt  that 
night  over  the  one  little  wanderer  rescued  from 
death,  than  over  the  ninety  and  nine  that  had  been 
exposed  to  no  danger. 

This  touching  incident  well  illustrates  the  joy  of 
angels  over  the  repentant  sinner — that  thrill  of 
rapture  every  conversion  sends  through  all  the 
ranks  of  the  blessed.  And  why  do  they  so  re- 
joice? Conversion  brings  a  new  servant  to  their 
Lord.  It  is  the  accession  of  a  new  individual  to 
that  holy  kingdom  of  which  God  and  His  Christ 
are  the  head.  Satan  loses  a  vassal,  and  God  re- 
claims a  subject.  In  every  individual  converted 
and  saved,  they  also  behold  a  living  manifestation 
of  divine  mercy,  a  new  trophy  in  the  temple  of 
Christ's  praise,  a  new  jewel  added  to  His  crown, 
a  new  star  lighted  up  in  the  firmament  of  His  glory. 
And  then,  as  they  reflect  on  the  misery  he  escapes, 
the  gloom,  and  the  flame,  and  the  groans  of  the 
prison-house  from  which  he  has  been  delivered, 
and  think  of  the  overflowing  glories  and  transports 
of  a  blessed  immortality  awaiting  him  in  their 
happy  society,  is  it  any  wonder  that  they  should 
burst  forth  in  triumphant  hosannas,  and  make  all 
heaven  ring  with  this  outgushing  joy? 

We  may  illustrate  this  by  an  incident  which 
occurred  in  connection  with  the  wreck  of  the  ill- 
fated  steamer  Central  America.  A  few  days  after 
that  startling  event,  which  sent  hundreds  to  a 
watery  grave,  and  plunged  the  nation  in  grief,  a 
pilot-boat  was  seen,  on  a  fair,  breezy  morning, 
standing  up  the  bay  of  New  York.  The  very  ap- 
pearance of  the  vessel  gave  token  that  she  was 
freighted  with  tidings  of  no  common  interest. 
With  every  sail  set,  and  streamers  flying,  she 
leaped  along  the  waters  as  if  buoyant  with  some 
great  joy ;  while  the  glad  winds  that  swelled  her 
canvas,  and  the  sparkling  waves  that  kissed  her 
sides,  and  urged  her  on  her  way,  seemed  to  laugh 
with  conscious  delight.  As  she  drew  nearer  an  un- 
usual excitement  was  visible  on  her  deck :  and  her 
captain,  running  out  to  the  extreme  point  of  the 
bowspiit,  and  swinging  his  cap,  appeared  to  be 
shouting  something  with   intense   earnestness   and 


animation.  At  first,  the  distance  prevented  hia 
being  distinctly  understood.  But  soon,  as  the  vessel 
came  farther  into  the  harbour,  the  words.  Three 
more  saved  I  Three  tnore  saved  I"  reached  the 
nearest  listeners.  They  were  caught  up  by  the 
crews  of  the  multitudinous  ships  that  lay  anchored 
around,  and  sailors  sprang  wildly  into  the  rigging 
and  shouted,  "  Three  more  saved  I"  They  were 
heard  on  the  wharves  ;  and  the  porter  threw  down 
his  load,  and  the  drayman  stopped  his  noisy  cart, 
and  shouted,  "  Tk^f-ee  more  saved!"  The  tidings 
ran  along  the  st-eets ;  and  the  newsboys  left  off 
crying  the  last  murfler,  and  shouted,  *'  Three  more 
savcdl"  Busy  salesmen  dropped  their  goods,  book- 
keepers their  pens,  bankers  their  discounts,  tellers 
their  gold,  and  merchants,  hurrying  on  the  stroke 
of  the  last  hour  of  grace  to  pay  their  notes,  paused 
in  their  headlong  haste,  and  shouted,  "  Three  more 
saved!''''  Louder  and  louder  grew  the  cry — fast 
and  faster  it  spread — along  the  crowded  piers  of 
the  Hudson  and  East  River — up  by  the  graves  of 
Trinity,  the  hotels  of  Broadway,  the  marble  palaces 
of  the  Fifth  Avenue — over  ihe  heights  of  Brooklyn 
— across  to  Hoboken  and  Jersey  City — away,  away, 
beyond  tower  and  pinnacle,  beyond  mansion  and 
temple,  beyond  suburb  and  hamlet—  till  a  million 
hearts  pulsated  with  its  thrill,  and  above  all  the 
sounds  of  the  vast  metropolis,  mightier  than  all, 
hushing  all,  rose  the  great,  exultant  shout,  "  Three 
more  saved  I     Three  more  saved  I " 

If  cold  and  selfish  men  will  thus  stop  short  in 
the  eager  quest  of  gain  or  of  pleasure,  to  let  the 
voice  of  humanity  speak  out,  and  to  express  their 
joy  that  three  fellow-beings  have  been  rescued  from 
the  ocean  depths,  shall  we  deem  it  an  incredible 
thing  that  the  holy  and  loving  denizens  of  heaven 
should  rejoice  when  a  sinner  repents,  and  is  de- 
livered from  the  abyss  of  hell  ?  — Ide, 

(260.)  I  have  read  that  when  the  Declaration  o. 
Independence  was  being  made  in  Philadelphia,  in 
1776,  the  people  were  so  anxious  to  know  the 
exact  moment  when  the  document  was  completed, 
that  they  placed  a  man  at  the  door  of  the  hall 
where  the  delegates  were  assembled,  and  another 
man  on  the  stairs  leading  to  the  tower,  and  another 
man  with  his  hand  on  the  rope  of  the  bell ;  and 
then,  when  the  last  signer  of  the  Declaration  had 
affixed  his  name,  the  man  at  the  door  shouted  up- 
ward, ^'' Ring!"  and  the  man  on  the  stairs  heard 
it,  and  shouted  upward,  ^''  Ring  I"  and  the  man 
with  his  hand  on  the  bell  of  the  rope  heard  it, 
and  sounded  the  tidings  over  the  city. 

If  to-night,  in  the  strength  of  Christ,  you  would 
make  your  declaration  of  independence  from  the 
power  of  sin,  there  would  be  great  rejoicing  on  earth 
and  in  heaven.  I  would  cry  upward  to  the  angels 
poising  in  mid-air,  Ring!  and  they  to  those  stand- 
ing on  the  battlements  of  heaven.  Ring  I  and  those 
on  the  battlements  to  the  dwellers  in  the  temples 
and  in  the  mansions.  Ring  I  and  all  heaven  would 
ring,  and  ring,  at  the  news  of  a  soul  redeemed. 

—  Talmage. 


ANGER- 
1.  Defined. 

(261.)  Aristotle,  in  his  Rhetoric,  ,  .  .  defines 
anger  to  be  "  a  desire,  accompanied  by  mental  un- 
easiness, of  avenging  one's  self,  or,  as  it  were,  in 


ANGER. 


(    40    ) 


ANGER. 


Piicting  punishment  for  something  that  appears  an 
unbecoming  sliglU,  either  in  things  which  concern 
one's  self,  or  some  of  one's  friends."  And  he  hence 
hifers  that,  if  this  be  anger,  it  must  be  invariably 
felt  towards  some  individual,  not  against  a  class  or 
description  of  persons.  — VVhately. 

2.  Differs  from  hatred/ 

(262.)  There  is  a  great  difference  between  the 
sin  of  one  who  is  angiy,  and  the  cruelty  of  one 
who  holds  another  in  hatred.  For  even  with  our 
children  are  we  angry ;  but  who  is  ever  found  to 
hate  his  children?  Among  the  very  cattle,  too, 
the  cow,  in  a  sort  of  weariness,  will  sometimes  in 
anger  drive  away  her  suckling  calf;  but  anon  she 
fmbraces  it  with  all  the  affection  of  a  mother.  She 
is  in  a  way  disgusted  with  it  when  she  butts  it ; 
yet,  when  she  misses  it,  she  will  seek  after  it. 
Nor  do  we  discipline  our  children  otherwise  than 
with  a  degree  of  anger  and  indignation ;  yet  we 
should  not  discipline  them  at  all,  but  in  love  to 
them. 

So  far,  then,  is  every  one  who  is  angry  from 
hating,  that  sometimes  one  would  be  rather  con- 
victevi  of  hating  if  he  were  not  angry ;  for  suppose 
a  child  wishes  to  play  in  somr;  river's  stream,  by 
whose  force  he  would  be  like  to  perish,  if  you  see 
this  and  patiently  suffer  it,  this  would  be  hating — 
your  patient  suffering  him  in  /lis  death.  How  far 
better  is  it  to  be  angry  than  to  suffer  him  to  perish. 
Great  is  the  difference,  indee(f,  between  one's  ex- 
ceeding due  limits  in  some  words  through  anger, 
which  he  afterwards  wipes  off  by  repenting  of  it, 
and  the  keeping  an  insidious  purpose  shut  up  in 
the  heart.  — Augustine,  353-429. 

{263.)  Anger  is  a  transient  hatred;  or,  at  least, 
very  like  it.  — South,  1 633-17 1 6. 

(264.)  Adam  Smith,  in  his  Theory  of  Moral 
Sentiments,  seems  to  consider  as  the  chief  point 
of  distinction  between  anger  and  hatred,  the  neces- 
sity to  the  gratification  of  the  former  that  the  ob- 
ject of  it  should  not  only  be  punished,  but  punished 
by  means  of  the  offended  person,  and  on  account 
of  the  particular  injury  inflicted.  Anger  requires 
that  the  offender  should  not  only  be  made  to  grieve 
in  his  turn,  but  to  grieve  for  that  particular  wrong 
which  has  been  done  by  him.  The  natural  gratifi- 
cation of  this  passion  tends,  of  its  own  accord,  to 
produce  all  the  political  ends  of  punishment :  the 
correction  of  the  criminal,  and  example  to  the 
public  — Whately. 

3.  A  compotuid  of  pride  and  folly. 

(265.)  He  does  anger  too  much  honour  who  calls 
it  madness,  which  being  a  distemper  of  the  brain, 
and  a  total  absence  of  all  reason,  is  innocent  of  all 
the  ill  effects  it  may  produce,  whereas  anger  is  an 
affected  madness,  compounded  of  pride  and  folly, 
and  m  intention  to  do  commonly  more  mischief 
thar  it  can  bring  to  pass. 

— Lord  Clarendon,  1608-1673. 

4.  Different  Mnds  of  anger. 

(266,)  I'  of  two  evils  we  ought  to  choose  the  least, 
sudden  anger  upon  slight  and  inadequate  occasions 
is,  at  anyrate,  better  than  secret  and  cunning 
malice,  which  burns  the  longer  the  more  it  is  con- 
cealed, and  generally  breaks  out,  at  its  own  time, 
into  inextinguishable  revenge. 


Irascibility  is  like  a  flame  in  flax  or  straw,  which 
suddenly  blazes  up,  and  as  suddenly  dies  ;  and  those 
subject  to  it  are  for  the  most  part  upright,  truthful, 
and  honourable  persons,  who,  when  the  transitory 
heat  is  past,  repay  by  their  liberality  any  injury  they 
may  have  done. 

Slow  wrath,  however,  is  like  the  flame  of  sulphur, 
or  like  fire  in  green  wood,  which,  the  longer  it  takes 
to  kindle,  burns  with  all  the  more  intense  heat.  Per- 
sons who,  when  they  receive  an  affront,  knavishly 
smile,  keep  silence,  and  pretend  indifference,  gene- 
rally treasure  up  rancour  in  their  breasts,  and  wait 
for  some  convenient  time  to  discharge  it  with  greater 
vengeance.  They  are  like  goats,  which  deliberately 
recede  from  their  adversary,  when  they  mean  to 
give  him  a  hard  blow,  and  level  him  with  the 
ground.     Of  such  persons  it  is  well  to  beware. 

— Scriver,  1629- 1693. 

6.  Impulses  to  anger  must  be  carefully  re- 
pressed. 

{267.)  When  anger  rises,  think  of  the  conse- 
quences. — Cofifucius. 

(268.)  If  anger  is  not  restrained,  it  is  fiequently 
more  hurtful  to  us  than  the  injury  that  provokes  it. 

— Seneca. 

{269.)  If  we  have  eaten  poison,  we  seek  forth- 
with to  vomit  it  up  again  with  all  speed  ;  and  if  we 
be  fallen  into  any  disease,  we  use  the  means  we  can 
to  provide  a  remedy ;  so,  likewise,  when  we  feel 
any  unruly  motions  of  anger,  and  the  fiery  flames 
thereof  be  once  kindled  in  our  hearts,  we  must  be 
careful  to  repress  them,  as  we  would  be  to  quench 
the  fire  in  our  houses.        — Cawdray,  1598-1664, 

(270.)  If  anger  arises  in  thy  breast,  instantly  seal 
up  thy  lips,  and  let  it  not  go  forth  :  for,  like  fire 
when  it  wants  vent,  it  will  suppress  itself.  It  is 
good  in  a  fever  to  have  a  tender  and  smooth  tongue  ; 
but  it  is  better  that  it  be  in  anger ;  for  if  it  be 
rough  and  distempered,  there  it  is  an  ill  sign,  but 
here  it  is  an  ill  cause.  Angry  passion  is  a  fire,  and 
angry  words  like  breath  to  fan  them  together ;  they 
are  like  steel  and  flint,  sending  out  fire  by  mutual 
collision.  — Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(271.)  Never  do  anything  that  can  denote  an 
angry  mind  ;  for,  although  everybody  ^is  born  with 
a  certain  degree  of  passion,  and,  from  untoward 
circumstances,  will  sometimes  feel  its  operation, 
and  be  what  they  call  "out  of  humour,"  yet  a 
sensible  man  or  woman  will  never  allow  it  to  be 
discovered.  Check  and  restrain  it ;  never  make 
any  determination  until  you  find  it  has  entirely  sub- 
sided ;  and  always  avoid  saying  anything  that  you 
may  wish  unsaid.  ^Lord  Collingwood. 

6.  Must  be  moderately  expressed. 

(272.)  They  who  put  on  a  supreme  anger,  or  eX' 
press  the  less  anger  with  the  highest  reproaches, 
can  do  no  more  to  him  that  steals,  than  to  him  that 
breaks  a  crystal  ;  7ton  plus  cequo,  non  diutius  aqtio, 
was  a  good  rule  for  reprehension  of  offending  ser- 
vants ;  but  no  more  anger,  no  more  severe  lan- 
guage than  the  thing  deserves  :  if  you  chide  too 
long,  your  reproof  is  changed  into  reproach  ;  if  too 
bitterly,  it  becomes  railing ;  if  too  loud,  it  is  im- 
modest ;  if  too  public,  it  is  like  a  dog, 

—Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 


ANGER. 


(    41    ) 


APOSTLES. 


T.  Is  not  to  be  too  longr  retained. 

(273.)  As  fire  when  it  is  covered  with  ashes,  yet 
It  is  not  quenched  ;  even  so  anger  or  choler,  though 
it  be  dissembled,  covered,  or  retained  in  the  heart 
awhile,  yet  it  is  not  so  quenched,  but  it  hatcheth 
hatred,  which  by  little  and  little  so  converteth  itself 
into  his  substance,  as  in  short  time  it  becometh  in- 
separable from  his  nature. 

— Cawdray,  1 598-1664. 

(274.)  It  is  observable  that  the  New  Testament 
precept  on  the  subject  of  anger  is,  in  so  many  words, 
a  restraint  and  not  a  prohibition.  "Be  ye  angry, 
and  sin  not ;  let  not  the  sun  go  down  upon  your 
wrath."  Anger  in  itself  is  no  sin,  but  it  has  a 
tendency  to  become  so  rapidly  if  it  be  harboured 
too  long.  Like  the  manna  it  corrupts  and  breeds 
worms  if  kept  over  night  in  the  close  chamber  of 
the  heart.  Then  it  will  appear  in  the  morbid 
shapes  of  spite,  malice,  revenge.  The  Christian 
rule  is  to  throw  it  all  away  before  the  fermentation 
commences.  — Goulburn. 

8.  Its  Unrighteousness. 

(275.)  The  angry  man,  like  the  two  hot  disciples 
that  called  fire  from  heaven,  ordains  himself  the 
judge,  and  would  have  God  turn  his  executioner. 

— Adams,  1653. 

9.  Its  Folly. 

(276. )  The  choleric  man  is  like  one  that  dwells 
in  a  thatched  house,  who,  being  rich  in  the  morn- 
ing, by  a  sudden  fire  is  a  beggar  before  night. 

How  foolish  is  the  bee  that  loses  her  life  and  her 
sting  together.  She  puts  another  to  a  little  pain, 
but  how  dearly  does  she  pay  for  it. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(277.)  To  be  angry,  is  to  revenge  the  faults  of 
others  upon  ourselves.  — i^ope,  168S-1744. 

10.  The  folly  of  meeting'  anger  with  anger. 
(278.)  Like  as  if  a  man  join  fire  to  fire,  he  maketh 

ths  flame  the  greater  :  even  so,  if  a  man  think  to 
suppress  another  man's  anger  by  being  angry  him- 
self, he  shall  both  lose  his  labour,  and  rather 
increase  the  other  man's  anger. 

—  Cawdray,  1 598-1 664. 
(279. )  A  mad  dog  that  bites  another  makes  him 
as   mad   as  himself;  so,    usually   the   injuries  and 
reproaches  of  others  foster  up  our  revenge,  and  then 
there  is  no  difference  between  us. 

— Manton,  1620-1667. 

11.  Silence  is  the  hest  reply  to  oflFensive  sayings. 
(280.)  It   is   reported   of  Titus   Vespasian,    that 

when  any  one  spake  ill  of  him,  he  was  wont  to  say 
that  he  was  above  false  reports ;  and  if  they  were 
true,  he  had  more  reason  to  be  angry  with  himself 
than  the  relator.  And  the  good  Emperor  Theo- 
dosius  commanded  no  man  should  be  punished  that 
spake  against  him  :  "for  what  was  spoken  slightly," 
said  he,  "  was  to  be  laughed  at ;  what  spitefully,  to 
be  pardoned  ;  what  angerly,  to  be  pitied  ;  and  if 
truly,  he  would  thank  him  for  it."  Oh,  that  there 
were  but  such  a  frame  of  spirit  in  this  carping  age 
of  ours,  wherein  men,  like  tinder,  are  ready  to  take 
fire  upon  the  least  spark  that  falls,  to  quarrel  some- 
times on  the  most  inoffensive  word  that  can  be 
spoken  ;  whereas  the  best  way  is  to  be  silent.  Site 
et  funestam  dedisti  plagatn  (Say  nothing,  and  you 
pay  a  talking  man  to  the  purpose).  Thus  it  was 
that  Hezekiah  would  cot  answer  Rabshakeh,  nor 


Jeremiah  Hananiah,  nor  our  blessed  Saviour  HU 
railing  adversaries.  He  reviled  not  His  revilers ; 
He  threatened  not  His  opponents.  (Jer.  xxviii.  11 ; 
Matt.  xxvi.  62  ;  i  Pet.  ii.  23.)      — Spencer,  1654. 

12.  It  often  works  Irreparable  mischief. 

(281.)  He  that  is  inebriated  with  passion  is  unfit 
for  an  action  ;  like  Samson's  foxes,  he  scatters  fire- 
brands abroad,  to  the  hurt  of  all  that  are  near  him. 

— Adams,  1 653. 

(282.)  Your  anger  may  sting  venomously.  Your 
jealousy  may  do  a  mischief  in  one  short  hour  that 
your  whole  life  cannot  repair.  Your  cruel  pride 
may  do  a  whole  age's  work  in  a  day.  You  cannot 
take  back  the  injuries  that  you  have  done  to  those 
whose  hearts  lie  throbbing  next  to  yours.  Ah  ! 
when  winter  has  frozen  my  heliotropes,  it  makes  no 
difference  that  the  next  morning  thaws  them  out. 
There  lie  the  heliotropes — a  black,  noisome  heap ; 
and  it  is  possible  for  you  to  chill  a  tender  nature  so 
that  no  thawing  can  restore  it.  You  may  relent, 
but  frost  has  been  there,  and  you  cannot  bring  back 
freshness  and  fragrance  to  the  blossom.  You  can- 
not sweeten  the  embittered  heart  to  which  your 
words  have  been  like  scorpions.  It  is  a  terrible 
thing  for  a  man  to  have  the  power  of  poisoning  the 
hearts  of  others,  and  yet  carry  that  power  carelessly. 
He  cannot  find  place  for  repentance,  though  he  seeks 
it  carefully  with  tears.  — Beecher. 

13.  Irrltableness  is  a  characteristic  of  weak  and 
base  natures. 

(283.)  Anger  is  certainly  a  kind  of  baseness  ;  as 
it  appears  well  in  the  weakness  of  those  subjects  in 
whom  it  reigns, — children,  women,  old  folks,  sick 
folks.  Only  men  must  beware  that  they  carry  their 
anger  rather  with  scorn  than  with  fear  ;  so  that  they 
may  seem  rather  to  be  above  the  injury  than  below 
it ;  which  is  a  thing  easily  done,  if  a  man  will  give 
law  to  himself  in  it.  — Bacon,  1560-1626. 

(284.)  It  is  the  base  and  vile  bramble,  the  fruit  of 
the  earth's  curse,  that  tears  and  rends  what  is  next 
to  it.  — Adams,  1653. 

{285.)  Wise  men  are  not  too  nimble  at  an  injury. 
For  as,  with  fire,  the  light  stuff  and  rubbish  kindle 
sooner  than  the  solid  and  more  compacted  ;  so  anger 
sooner  inflames  a  fool  than  a  man  composed  in  his 
resolutions.  — Feltham,  1668. 

14.  How  the  tendency  to  It  Is  to  be  overcome. 

(286.)  There  is  no  other  way  but  to  meditate  and 
ruminate  well  upon  the  effects  of  anger, — how  it 
troubles  man's  life  ;  and  the  best  time  to  do  this  is 
to  look  back  upon  anger  when  the  fit  is  thoroughly 
over.  Seneca  saith  well,  "  that  anger  is  like  rain, 
which  breaks  itself  upon  that  it  falls."  The  Scrip- 
ture exhorteth  us  "  to  possess  our  souls  in  patience :" 
whosoever  is  out  of  patience  is  out  of  possession  of 
his  soul.  — Bacon,  1 560-1 626. 


APOSTLES,  THE 

1.  Were  trained  for  their  task. 

(287.)  Such  men  Christ  took  as  might  be  no 
occasion  to  their  hearers  to  ascribe  the  work  to  their 
efficiency  ;  but  yet,  such  men,  too,  as  should  be  no 
examples  to  insufficient  men  to  adventure  upon  that 


APOSTLES. 


(     42     ) 


APOSTLES. 


great  service ;  but  men,  though  ignorant  before,  yet 
docile  and  glad  to  learn.  In  a  rough  stone,  a  cunning 
lapidary  will  easily  foresee  what  his  cutting,  and  his 
polishing,  and  his  art  will  bring  that  stone  to.  A 
cunning  statuary  discerns  in  a  marble  stone  under 
his  feet  where  there  will  arise  an  eye,  and  an  ear, 
and  a  hand,  anJ  other  lineaments,  to  make  it  a  per- 
fect statue.  Much  more  did  our  Saviour  Christ, 
who  was  Himself  the  author  of  that  disposition  in 
them  (for  no  man  has  any  such  disposition  but  from 
God),  foresee  in  these  fishermen  an  inclinableness 
to  become  useful  in  that  great  service  of  His  Church. 
Therefore,  He  took  them  from  their  own  ship,  but 
He  sent  them  from  His  cross.  He  took  therri, 
weather-beaten  with  north  and  south  winds,  and 
routli-cast  with  foam  and  mud,  but  He  sent  them 
back  suppled,  and  smoothed,  and  levigated,  quick- 
ened and  animated  with  that  spirit  which  He  had 
breathed  into  them.  He  took  fishermen,  and  He 
sent  fishers  of  men.  He  sent  them  not  out  to 
preach,  as  soon  as  He  had  called  them  to  Him  ;  He 
called  them  ad  discipidatitm  before  He  called  them 
ad  apostolatum  ;  He  taught  them  before  tliey  taught 
others.  — Donne,  1573-1631. 

2.  Their  natural  unfltness  for  the  task  assigned 
them. 

(288.)  When  kings  send  out  ambassadors  to  re- 
present their  person  and  their  interests  in  foreign 
courts,  they  choose  out  from  amongst  the  people 
men  of  high  name  and  reputation,  well  skilled  in 
the  ways  of  the  world  and  the  policy  of  states ; 
whom,  having  clothed  with  powers  plenipotentiary, 
and  appointed  with  officers  and  servants  of  every 
kind,  they  send  forth  accredited  witli  royal  letters 
to  all  courts  and  kingdoms  whither  they  may 
come,  furnished  with  grace  and  splendour  to  feast 
the  common  eye,  and  laden  with  rich  gifts  to  take 
the  cupidity  or  conciliate  the  favour  of  those  with 
whom  they  have  to  do.  Also,  when  a  nation  fitteth 
out  a  journey  or  voyage  of  discovery,  they  choose 
out  men  of  fortitude,  humanity,  and  skill,  upon 
whom  to  bestow  a  valorous  and  steady  crew,  who 
will  not  be  daunted  by  the  dangers,  nor  bafiiled  by 
the  difficulties  of  the  work  ;  and  having  called  in 
the  whole  science  and  art  of  the  country,  to  fortify 
and  accommodate  the  danger-hunting  men,  they 
launch  them  forth  amidst  the  hearty  cheers  and 
benedictions  of  their  country.  And  when  a  nation 
arrayeth  its  strength  to  battle  for  its  ancient  rights 
and  dominions ;  or  when  a  noble  nation  armeth  in 
the  cause  of  humanity  to  help  an  insulted  sister  in 
the  day  of  her  need,  as  we  Britons  have  oft  been 
called  upon  to  do,  the  nation  is  shaken  to  her  very 
centre  with  commotion,  and  every  arm  and  sinew  of 
the  land  straineth  to  the  work.  Fleets  and  armies, 
and  munitions  of  war  ;  the  whole  chivalry,  the 
whole  prowess,  strength  and  policy,  and  oft  the 
whole  wealth  of  the  land  muster  in  the  cause  ;  and 
the  chief  captains  forsake  their  wives  and  children, 
and  peaceful  homes ;  and  the  warlike  harness  is 
taken  from  the  hall  where  it  hung  in  peace ;  and 
the  bold  peasantry  come  trooping  from  their  altars 
and  their  household  hearths ;  and  "  the  trumpet 
speaketh  to  the  armed  throng  : "  they  gather  into 
one,  and  descend  unto  the  shores  of  the  surround- 
ing sea,  whither  every  fleet  ship  and  gallant  sailor 
have  made  ready  to  bear  them  to  the  place  where 
the  rights  of  the  nation,  or  the  insulted  rights  of 
humanity,  cry  upon  their  right?ous  arm  for  redress  ; 
and  their  kinsmen  follow  then:   with  their  prayers, 


and  their  wives  and  children,  their  fathers,  and  the 
households  of  their  fathers,  with  the  assembled  con- 
gregations of  the  people,  commit  them  and  tlieir 
righteous  cause  to  the  safe  conduct  and  keeping,  of 
the  Lord  of  Hosts. 

But  when  the  Kin.g  of  Heaven  sendeth  forth 
these  twelve  ambassadors  to  the  nations,  fitteth  out 
these  discoverers  of  the  people  that  sat  in  darkness 
and  the  shadow  of  death,  and  furnisheth  forth  this 
little  army  to  subvert  the  thrones,  dominions,  prin- 
cipalities, and  powers  of  darkness  which  brooded 
over  the  degenerate  earth,  to  bring  forth  the  lost 
condition  of  humanity,  and  establish  its  crown  of 
glory  as  at  the  first,  He  took  men  of  no  name  nor 
reputation,  endowed  with  no  Greek,  with  no 
Roman  fame,  by  science  untaught,  by  philosophy 
unschooled,  fishermen  from  the  shores  of  an  inland 
sea;  the  class  of  men,  which  of  all  classes  is  (dis- 
tinguished for  no  exploit  in  the  story  of  the.  world  ; 
Galileans,  a  people  despised  of  the  Jews,  who  were 
themselves  a  despised  people.  As  at  first,  wiien 
God  wished  to  make  a  man  in  His  own  ima^jc, 
after  His  own  likeness,  He  brought  not  the  mate- 
rials from  heavenly  regions,  neither  created  a  finer 
quintessence  of  matter  for  the  high  occasion,  but 
took  from  the  ground  a  handful  of  dust,  thereon  to 
impress  His  divine  image,  and  thereinto  to  breathe 
the  spirit  of  lives  :  so  the  Son  of  God,  Himself  a 
servant,  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  when  He 
chose  vessels  to  bear  His  name  before  Gentiles  and 
kings,  and  the  children  of  Israel,  preferred  that 
they  should  be  empty  of  human  greatness,  without 
any  grace  or  comeliness  in  the  sight  of  man,  with- 
out any  odour  of  a  good  name,  or  rich  contents  of 
learning  or  knowledge  ; — that  the  treasure  being 
in  earthen  vessels,  the  praise  might  be  of  God. 

— Ifving. 

S.  The  wonderfulness  of  their  auccess. 

(289.)  Do  the  Greeks  charge  the  Apostles  with 
want  of  learning?  This  same  charge  is  their 
praise.  And  when  they  say  that  the  Apostles  were 
rude,  let  us  follow  up  the  remark,  and  say,  that 
they  were  also  untaught,  and  unlettered,  and  poor, 
and  vile,  and  wanting  in  acuteness,  and  insignifi- 
cant persons.  It  is  not  a  slander  on  the  Apostles 
to  say  so,  but  it  is  even  a  glory  that,  being  such,  they 
should  have  outshone  the  whole  world.  For  these 
untrained,  and  rude,  and  illiterate  men,  have  com- 
pletely vanquished  the  wise,  and  powerful,  and  tiie 
tyrants,  and  those  who  flourished  in  wealth  and 
glory,  and  all  outward  good  things,  as  though  tliey 
had  not  been  men  at  all  :  from  whence  it  is  meni- 
fest  that  great  is  the  power  of  the  Cross  ;  and  that 
these  things  were  done  by  no  human  strength.  For 
the  results  do  not  keep  the  course  of  nature,  rather 
the  good  done  was  above  all  nature.  Now,  when 
anything  takes  place  above  nature,  and  exceed- 
ingly above  it,  on  the  side  of  rectitude  and  utility, 
it  is  quite  plain  that  these  things  are  done  by  some 
Divine  power  and  co-operation.  And  observe  :  tiie 
fisherman,  the  tentmaker,  the  publican,  the  igno- 
rant, the  unlettered,  coming  from  the  far  distant 
country  of  Palestine,  and  having  beaten  of^  their 
own  ground  the  philosophers,  the  masters  of  orator)', 
the  skilful  debaters,  alone  prevailed  against  them 
in  a  short  space  of  time ;  in  the  midst  of  many 
perils,  the  opposition  of  people  and  kings,  the 
striving  of  nature  herself,  length  of  time,  the  vehe- 
ment resistance  of  inveterate  custom,  demons  in 
arms,  the  devil  in  battle-array,  and  stirring  up  all — 


APOSTLES. 


(    43    ) 


ARGUMENTS. 


kings,  rulers,  people,  nations,  cities,  barbarians, 
Greeks,  philosophers,  orators,  sophists,  historians, 
laws,  tribunals,  divers  kinds  of  punishments,  deaths 
innumerable,  and  of  all  sorts.  But,  nevertheless, 
all  these  were  confuted,  and  gave  way  when  the 
fishermen  spake ;  just  like  the  light  dust,  which 
cannot  bear  the  rush  of  violent  winds.  Now,  what 
I  say  is,  let  us  learn  thus  to  dispute  with  the 
Greeks  ;  that  we  be  not  like  beasts  and  cattle,  but 
"prepared"  as  concerning  "the  hope  which  is  in 
us."  And  let  us  pause  for  a  while  to  work  out 
this  topic,  no  unimportant  one ;  and  let  us  say  to 
them,  How  did  the  weak  overcome  the  strong  ;  the 
twelve,  the  world  ?  Not  by  using  the  same  armour, 
but  in  nakedness  contending  with  men  in  arms. 

For,  say,  if  twelve  men,  unskilled  in  matters  of 
war,  were  to  leap  into  the  midst  of  an  immense  and 
armed  host  of  soldiers,  themselves  not  only  unarmed 
but  of  weak  frame  also  ;  and  to  receive  no  harm 
from  them,  nor  yet  be  wounded,  though  assailed 
with  ten  thousand  weapons  ;  if,  while  the  darts 
were  piercing  them  through,  with  bare  naked  body, 
they  overthrew  all  their  foes,  using  no  weapons  but 
striking  with  the  hand,  and  in  conclusion  killing 
some,  and  others  took  captive  and  led  away,  them- 
selves receiving  not  so  much  as  a  wour.d,  would 
any  one  have  ever  said  that  the  thing  was  of  man? 
And  yet  the  trophy  of  the  Apostles  is  much  more 
wonderful  than  that.  For  a  man's  escaping  a 
^ound  is  not  so  wonderful  by  far,  as  that  the  ordi- 
nary and  unlettered  person, — that  a  fisherman, — 
should  overcome  such  a  body  of  talent  ;  and 
neither  for  fewness,  nor  for  poverty,  nor  for  dan- 
gers, nor  for  prepossession  of  fiabit,  nor  for  so  great 
austerity  of  the  precepts  given  in  charge,  nor  for 
the  daily  deaths,  nor  for  the  multitude  of  those 
who  were  deceived,  nor  for  the  great  reputation  of 
the  deceivers,  be  turned  from  his  purpose. 

— Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(290.)  Had  it  been  published  by  a  voice  from 
heaven,  that  twelve  poor  men,  taken  out  of  boats 
md  creeks,  without  any  help  of  learning,  should 
conquer  the  world  to  the  cross,  it  might  have  been 
thought  an  illusion  against  all  the  reason  of  men  ; 
yet  we  know  it  was  undertaken  and  accomplished 
by  them.  They  published  this  doctrine  in  Jeru- 
salem, and  quickly  spread  it  over  the  greatest  part 
of  the  world.  Folly  outwitted  wisdom,  and  weak- 
ness overpowered  strength.  The  conquest  of  the 
East  by  Alexander  was  not  so  admirable  as  the 
enterprise  of  these  poor  men. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

4.  Their  success  Is  a  proof  that  they  wrought 
miracles. 

(291.)  A  few  persons  of  an  odious  and  despised 

CA)untry  could  not  have  filled  the  world  with  be- 
lievers, had  they  not  shown  undoubted  credentials 
from  the  Divine  person  who  sent  them  on  such  a 
message.  — Addison,  1672-1719. 

6.  Their  boldness, 

(292.)  Many  interdictions  rung  peals  of  menaces 
fel  the  Apostles' ears,  that  they  "should  speak  rio 
more  in  the  name  and  word  of  Christ;"  they  did 
all  rather,  like  bells,  toll  them  into  the  Church, 
to  preach  it  more  fervently.  The  princes  of  the 
nations  would  have  hedged  it  in  with  their  prohibi- 
tions ;  but  the  word  of  heaven  and  edict  of  God's 
spiritual   court   of  glo»y  sco'^ed    the   prohibitions 


given  by  their  temporary  laws.     They  might  easiei 
have  hedged  in  the  wind,  or  pounded  the  eagle. 

— Adams,  1653. 

6.  Their  Influence  compared  with  that  of  the 
ancient  philosophers. 

(293.)  Where  are  all  the  sects  of  philosophers, 
the  Platonists,  the  Peripatetics,  the  Stoics,  the 
Epicureans,  and  the  rest  that  filled  Greece  with 
their  fame,  and  so  many  volumes  with  fancies  and 
error?  Like  a  torrent  that  rolls  down  with  great 
noise  from  the  top  of  a  mountain,  so  for  a  time  the 
speculations  of  their  lofty  minds  poured  along  in  a 
flood  of  swelling,  frothy  eloquence ;  but  now  (and 
for  many  ages  since)  the  very  channel  is  dried  up 
wherein  they  ran,  so  that  scarce  any  visible  ruina 
remain  in  Athens  itself  of  the  schools  where  they 
taught  the  greatest  among  them.  Plato,  adorned 
with  the  title  of  divine,  could  never  see  his  com- 
monwealth framed  by  him  with  so  much  study,  to 
be  satisfied  in  one  city.  Whereas  if  we  consider 
the  gospel  of  Christ,  it  is  hard  to  determine  whethei 
the  doctrine  be  more  simple  or  the  Apostles  the 
first  masters  of  it  to  outward  appearance ;  yet, 
without  learning  or  human  strength,  in  a  short 
space  they  triumphed  over  that  eloquence  of  the 
Greeks,  the  power  of  the  Romans,  the  rage  of  the 
barbarous  nations.  They  abrogated  laws,  changed 
customs,  and  renewed  the  face  of  the  world. 

— Bates,  1625-1699. 


ARGUMENTS. 

1.  Their  value. 

(294.)  Testimony  is  like  an  arrow  shot  from  a 
long  bow,  the  force  of  it  depends  on  the  strength  of 
the  hand  that  draws  it  :  argument  is  like  an  arrow 
from  a  cross-bow,  which  has  great  force  though  shot 
by  a  child.  — Bacon,  1 560-1626. 

2.  How  they  are  to  be  estimated, 

(295.)  Reasons  of  things  are  rather  to  be  taken 
by  weight  than  tale.  — Collier,  1650-1726. 

3.  Are  not  to  be  accumulated  on  one  side  of  a 
question  only. 

(296.)  Hunting  after  arguments  to  make  good 
one  side  of  a  question,  and  wholly  to  neglect  those 
which  favour  the  other,  is  wilfully  to  misguide  the 
understanding  ;  and  is  so  far  from  giving  truth  its 
due  value,  that  it  wholly  debases  it.  — Locke. 

4.  Should  not  be  used  too  profusely. 

(297.)  Whereas  men  have  many  reasons  to  per- 
suade, to  use  them  all  at  once  weakeneth  them. 
For  it  argueth  a  neediness  in  every  one  of  the  rea- 
sons, as  if  one  did  not  trust  to  any  of  them,  but  fled 
from  one  to  another.  — Bacon,  1 560-1626. 

6.  Value  of  probable  arguments. 

(298.)  Probable  arguments  are  like  little  stars, 
every  one  of  which  will  be  useless  as  to  our  conduct 
and  enlightening,  but  when  they  are  tied  together 
by  order  and  vicinity,  by  the  finger  of  God  and  the 
hand  of  an  angel,  they  make  a  constellation,  and 
are  not  only  powerful  in  their  influence,  but  like  a 
brignt  angel  to  guide  and  to  enlighten  our  way. 
And,  although  the  light  is  not  great  as  th^   light  of 


ARGUMENTS. 


(    44    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


the  sun  or  moon,  yet  mariners  sail  by  their  conduct ; 
and,  thougli  with  trepidation  and  some  dangers, 
yet  very  regularly  they  enter  into  the  haven.  This 
heap  of  probalile  inducements  is  of  no  power  as  a 
mathematical  and  physical  demonstration,  which  is 
m  discourse  as  the  sun  is  in  the  heaven,  but  it 
makes  a  milky  and  a  white  path,  visible  enough  to 
walk  securely.  And  next  to  these  tapers  of  effec- 
tive reason,  drawn  from  the  nature,  and  from  the 
events,  and  the  accidents,  and  the  expectation,  and 
experiences  of  things,  stands  the  grandeur  of  a  long 
and  united  authority.  The  understanding  thus 
reasoning,  that  it  is  not  credible  that  this  thing 
should  have  escaped  the  wiser  heads  of  all  the  great 
personages  in  the  world,  who  stood  at  the  chair  of 
princes,  or  sat  in  the  ruler's  chair,  and  should  not 
only  appear  to  two  or  three  bold,  illiterate,  or 
vicious  persons,  ruled  by  lusts,  and  overruled  by 
evil  habits.  But  in  this  we  have  the  same  security 
and  the  same  confidence  that  timorous  persons  have 
in  the  dark  ;  they  are  pleased,  and  can  see  what  is 
and  what  is  not  if  there  be  a  candle  ;  but  in  the 
dark  they  are  less  fearful  if  they  be  in  company. 
— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

6.  Lawfulness  of  arguments  ad  homlnem. 
(299.)  In  the  persuasion  of  a  truth,  it  is  lawful  to 

nse  such  arguments  whose  strength  is  wholly  made 
prevailing  by  the  weakness  of  him  that  is  to  be  per- 
suaded. Such  as  are  arguments  ad  komine?n,  that 
is,  proportionable  to  the  doctrines,  customs,  usages, 
belief,  and  credulity  of  the  man. 
The  reasons  are  these  : — 

1.  Because  ignorant  persons  are  not  capable  of 
such  arguments  as  may  demonstrate  the  question  ; 
and  he  that  goes  to  draw  a  child  to  him,  may  pull 
him  by  the  long  sleeve  of  his  coat,  and  need  not 
hire  a  yoke  of  oxen. 

2.  That  which  will  demonstrate  a  truth  to  one 
person,  possibly  will  never  move  another. 

But  in  all  arguments  which  are  to  prevail  by  the 
weakness  or  advantages  taken  from  the  man,  he 
that  goes  about  to  persuade  must  not  say  anything 
that  he  knows  to  be  false  ;  but  he  must  comply  and 
twist  about  the  man's  weakness,  so  as  to  be  innocent 
all  the  way.  Let  him  take  him  that  is  weak  and 
wrap  him  in  swaddling  clothes,  but  not  encompass 
him  with  snakes.      — Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

7.  Should  be  conducted  calmly. 

(300.)  We  see  in  experience,  that  confidence  is 
generally  ill-grounded,  and  is  a  kind  of  passion  in 
the  understanding ;  and  is  commonly  made  use  of, 
like  fury  and  force,  to  supply  for  the  weakness  and 
want  of  argument.  If  a  man  can  prove  what  he 
says  by  good  argument,  there  is  no  need  of  confi- 
dence to  back  and  support  it.  We  may  at  any  time 
trust  a  plain  and  substantial  reason,  and  leave  it  to 
make  its  own  way,  and  to  bear  out  itself.  But  if 
the  man's  reasons  and  arguments  be  not  good,  his 
confidence  adds  nothing  of  real  force  to  them,  in 
the  opinion  of  wise  men,  and  tends  only  to  its  own 
confusion.  Arguments  are  like  powder,  which  will 
cany  and  do  execution  according  to  its  true  strength  ; 
and  all  the  rest  is  but  noise. 

—  Tilloison,  1430-1694. 

8.  Folly  of  abuse  In  argument. 

(301.)  Upon  the  points  in  which  we  dissent  from 
each  other,  argument  will  always  secure  the  atten- 
*ion  of  the  wise  and  good  ;  whereas,  invective  must 


disgrace  the  cause  which  we  may  respectively  wish 
to  support.  — Farr. 

(302. )  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  use  bad  names  \ 
but  bad  names  are  bad  arguments.  When  your 
opponent  is  driven  to  personal  abuse,  he  is  driven  to 
his  wit's  end,  and  you  may  safely  leave  him.  Nevet 
throw  mud.  You  may  miss  your  mark,  but  you 
must  have  dirty  hands.  — Joseph  Parker. 

9.  The  best  mode  of  refuting  sophistical  argu 
ments. 

(303.)  False  reasoners  are  often  best  confuted  by 
giving  them  the  full  swing  of  their  own  absurdities. 
Some  arguments  may  be  compared  to  wheels,  where 
half  a  turn  will  put  everything  upside  down  that  is 
attached  to  their  peripheries ;  but  if  we  complete 
the  circle,  all  things  will  be  just  where  we  found 
them.  Hence,  it  is  common  to  say,  that  arguments 
that  prove  too  much,  prove  nothing.  I  once  heard 
a  gentleman  affirm,  that  all  mankind  were  governed 
by  a  strong  and  overruling  influence,  which  deter- 
mined all  their  actions,  and  over  which  they  had  no 
control ;  and  the  inference  deducible  from  such  a 
position  was,  that  there  was  no  distinction  between 
virtue  and  vice.  Now,  let  us  give  this  mode  0/ 
reasoning  full  play.  A  murderer  is  brought  before 
a  judge,  and  sets  up  this  strong  and  overruling  pro- 
pensity in  justification  of  his  crime.  Now,  the 
judge,  even  if  he  admitted  the  plea,  must,  on  the 
criminal's  own  showing,  condemn  him  to  death. 
He  would  thus  address  the  prisoner  ;  You  had  a 
strong  propensity  to  commit  a  murder,  and  this, 
you  say,  must  do  away  the  guilt  of  your  crime  ;  but 
1  have  a  strong  propensity  to  hang  you  for  it,  and 
this,  I  say,  must  also  do  away  with  the  guilt  of 
your  punishment.  — CoUon,  183a. 


ASSURANCE. 

I.  JS  DESIRABLE. 

(304.)  The  conceit  of  propriety  hardens  a  man 
against  many  inconveniences,  and  adds  much  to  our 
pleasure.  The  mother  abides  many  unquiet  nights, 
many  painful  throes  and  unpleasant  savours  of  hei 
child,  upon  this  thought,  "It  is  my  own."  .  .  . 
If  we  could  think.  It  is  my  God  that  cheers  me 
with  His  presence  and  blessings,  while  I  prosper ; 
that  afflicts  me  in  love,  when  I  am  dejected  ;  my 
Saviour  is  at  God's  right  hand  ;  my  angels  stand 
in  His  presence — it  could  not  be  but  God's  favour 
could  be  sweeter.  His  chastisements  more  easy,  His 
benefits  more  effectual.  — Hall,  15  74-1 656. 

(305.)  Every  man  naturally  loves  that  which  is 
his  own,  and  if  the  thing  be  good,  it  doth  him  the 
more  good  to  look  upon  it.  Let  a  man  walk  in  a 
fair  meadow,  it  pleaseth  him  well ;  but  it  will  please 
him  much  more  if  it  be  his  own.  His  eyes  will  be 
more  curious  in  prying  into  every  part,  and  every- 
thing will  please  him  the  better.  So  it  is  in  a  corn- 
field, in  an  orchard,  in  a  house.  So  then,  if  God 
the  Lord  be  lovely,  how  much  more  lovely  should 
He  be  in  our  eyes,  if  He  be  our  Lord  God  ? 

— Holdsworih,  1627. 

II.  IS  ESSENTIAL  : — 

1.  To  the  comfort  and  joy  of  the  feeliever. 
(306.)  It  is  related  of  a  man,  that  being  upon  the 
point  of  drowning  in  a  great  river,  he  looked  up  and 


ASSURANCE. 


(    45    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


saw  the  rainbow  in  the  clouds,  and  considering  that 
God  had  set  it  there  as  a  sign  of  His  covenant,  never 
more  to  drown  the  world  by  water,  made  this  sad 
conclusion  to  himself:  "  But  what  if  He  save  the 
world  from  a  deluge  of  waters,  and  suffer  me  to  be 
drowned  here  in  this  river,  I  shall  be  never  the  better 
for  that.  When  I  am  once  gone,  all  the  worid  is 
gone  with  me."  Thus  it  is  in  the  matter  of  heaven 
and  heavenly  things,  as  in  the  point  of  calling  and 
election,  whereas  it  is  said  that  many  are  called  but 
few  chosen  ;  so  that  if  a  man  cannot  make  out  unto 
himself  that  he  is  none  of  the  many  so-called,  and 
one  of  the  few  that  shall  be  certainly  saved,  he  must 
needs  be  but  in  a  sad  condition.  What  is  the  blood 
of  Christ,  though  in  itself  sufficient  to  save  ten  thou- 
sand worlds,  if  it  be  not  efficient  in  the  application 
thereof  unto  his  soul  ?  He  shall  be  never  the  better 
for  it.  What  if  the  Gospel  come  to  him  in  word 
only,  and  not  in  power,  not  in  the  Holy  Ghost  and 
full  assurance  ?  It  would  do  him  little  good.  What 
are  promises,  if  he  be  not  heir  of  them  ?  What  are 
mercies,  if  he  be  no  sharer  m  them  ?  What  is  heaven, 
if  he  have  no  evidence  for  it  ?  And  what  is  Christ 
(though  all  in  all  in  Himself,  yet  nothing — nay,  the 
further  occasion  of  damnation  to  him),  if  he  be  not 
in  Him?  — Alardus  ^mstrel?-edai?ius,  1518. 

(307.)  A  man  may  praise  God  for  the  redemption 
of  the  world,  &c.,  who  has  no  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing secured  an  interest  in  it,  but  not  like  him  who 
feels  he  has  a  property  in  it.  How  different  will  be 
their  feelings !  Just  as  great  will  be  the  difference 
of  interest  which  will  be  felt  by  a  stranger  passing 
through  a  beautiful  estate,  and  by  the  owner  of  it. 
One  may  admire  the  richness  of  the  soil,  the  beauty 
of  its  crops,  and  the  stateliness  of  its  trees  ;  but  his 
interest  in  it  will  fall  very  far  short  of  his  who  has 
the  title  and  property  in  it.  — Salter,  1840. 

2.  To  Ms  Bpiritual  vigour. 

(308.)  Believe  me,  the  life  of  grace  is  no  dead 
level ;  it  is  not  a  fen  country,  a  vast  flafc.  There  are 
mountains  and  there  are  valleys.  There  are  tribes 
of  Christians  who  live  in  the  lowlands,  like  the 
poor  Swiss  of  the  Valais,  who  live  between  the 
lofty  ranges  of  mountains  in  the  midst  of  the  miasma, 
where  the  air  is  stagnant,  and  fever  has  its  lair,  and 
the  human  frame  grows  languid  and  enfeebled. 
Such  dwellers  in  the  lowlands  of  unbelief  are  for 
ever  doubting,  fearing,  troubled  about,  their  interest 
in  Christ,  and  tossed  to  and  fro  ;  but  there  are  other 
believers,  who,  by  God's  grace,  have  climbed  the 
mountain  of  full  assurance  and  near  communion, 
their  place  is  with  the  eagle  in  his  eyrie,  high  aloft  ; 
they  are  like  the  strong  mountaineer,  who  has  trodden 
the  virgin  snow,  who  has  breathed  the  fresh,  free  air 
of  the  Alpine  regions,  and  therefore  his  sinews  are 
braced,  and  his  limbs  are  vigorous  ;  these  are  they 
who  do  great  exploits,  being  mighty  men,  men  of 
renown.  — Sturgeon. 

III.    IS  ATTAINABLE. 

(309.)  As  certain  as  he  that  hath  a  cdrporeal  eye 
knoweth  that  he  sees,  so  certainly  he  that  is  illumi- 
nated with  the  light  of  faith  knoweth  that  he  be- 
lieveth.  The  glorious  splendour  of  such  an  orient 
and  splendid  jewel  cannot  but  show  itself,  and 
shine  clearly  to  the  heart  wherein  it  dwells.  Like 
a  bright  lamp  set  up  in  the  soul,  it  does  not  only 
manliest  other  things,  but  also  itself  appears  by  its 
own  light.     When  I  see  and  rely  upon  a  man  pro- 


mising me  this  or  that,  I  know  I  see  and  rely 
upon  him.  Shall  I  by  faith  behold  my  blessed 
Redeemer  lifted  up,  as  an»  only  antitype  of  the 
brazen  serpent,  for  the  everlasting  cure  of  my 
wounded  conscience,  and  rest  upon  Him,  and  yet 
know  no  such  thing?  — Salter,  1840. 

(310.)  Next,  it  is  asked,  "  Can  a  man  know  with- 
in himself  that  he  is  a  Christian  ?  If  so,  does  that 
constitute  experimental  religion?' 

If  it  were  not  that  men's  minds  have  been  greatly 
per^ilexed  by  diverse  and  often  contrary  instructions, 
so  that  they  are  really  bewildered,  I  should  almost 
be  disposed  to  ridicule  such  a  question.  When  I 
think  of  the  truth  itself,  it  seems  preposterous  that 
a  man  should  not  know  whether  he  is  a  Chiistiait 
or  not.  Suppose  a  man  should  ask  you,  "  Do  you 
know,  sir,  whether  you  are  sick  or  whether  you  are 
well?"  I  think  there  is  no  difficulty  in  your  being 
able  to  answer  that  question.  You  either  are  well, 
or,  you  are  sick,  or,  you  are  a  little  unwell.  You 
can  state  almost  to  a  degree  where  you  are  on  the 
scale  of  health. 

Or,  to  take  it  out  of  the  sphere  of  bodily  sensa- 
tion, suppose  a  man  should  ask  you,  "  Do  you 
know,  sir,  whether  you  are  happy  or  unhappy?" 
Would  you  be  in  doubt  as  to  that  ? 

Suppose  a  man  should  come  to  you  and  say, 
"  Have  you  any  idea  whether  you  are  a  man  oi 
truth  and  veracity  or  not?"  If  a  man  wants  to 
know  himself  on  that  subject,  can  he  not  ?  Do  you 
not  generally  have  a  pretty  near  estimate  of  what 
you  are? 

Suppose  a  man  should  ask  you,  "Are  you  a  thief, 
or  are  you  not?'  Cannot  a  man  know  it  if  he  is 
honest  ?  It  is  hard  work,  I  know,  for  some  ;  but 
still  it  can  be  found  out. 

Or,  put  it  in  a  different  form  still.  Suppose  a 
man  should  ask  you,  "  Are  you  on  the  side  of  justice 
and  liberty,  or  are  you  on  the  side  of  false  aris- 
tocracy and  oppression  ?  "  Can  a  man  doubt  v  hich 
side  he  is  on  ? 

Again,  suppose  a  man  should  ask  you,  "  Are  you 
a  British  subject  or  an  American  citizen?  Do  you 
belong  to  Great  Britain  or  to  the  young  Stars-a>id- 
Stripes  country  ?  Which  government  are  you  under, 
anyhow  ? " 

Now,  if  I  think  simply  of  the  truth,  I  aver  that 
it  is  just  as  easy  and  natural  that  a  man  should 
know  whetlier  he  is  a  Christian  or  not,  as  that  he 
should  know  whether  be  is  an  American  or  a  Briton, 
whether  he  belongs  to  Canada  or  the  United  States, 
whether  he  is  sick  or  well,  \\  hether  he  is  democratic 
or  aristocratic.  For  religion  is  not  a  mystic  veil 
that  descends  upon  a  man  from  afar,  that  he  has  no 
connection  with,  and  that  comes  and  goes  as  atmo- 
spheric conditions  do.  Religion  has  in  it  all  the 
great  distinctive  elements  of  intelligent  being — 
namely,  reason,  conviction,  moral  will,  and  dis- 
tinct and  classified  emotions  ;  and  they  belong  to 
man  in  such  relations  that  he  can  tell  whether  he 
has  them  or  not,  and  whether  he  has  them  on  one 
side  or  on  the  other. 

But  when  I  look  at  the  feebleness  of  many  per- 
sons' minds  ;  when  I  see  their  want  of  discrimina- 
tion ;  when  I  remember  how  tliey  are  blown  about 
by  many  winds  of  doctrine  ;  when  I  observe  iiow 
some  men  have  the  idea  that  reliijion  is  mere  ecstatic 
fervour,  and  how  other  men  have  the  idea  that  reli- 
gion is  something  widely  different  from  that  ;  when 
1  call  to  mind  the  fact  that  the  tests  of  religious  ex- 


ASSURANCE. 


(    46    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


perience  have  been  varied  by  difTerent  schools  and 
in  different  ways  ;  and  when  I  consider  how  a  sen- 
sitive conscience  and  an  emotive  nature  must  be 
drifted  hither  and  thither  by  these  conflicting  views 
—  I  am  constrained  to  say  tiiat  a  man  may  be  a 
Christian,  and  yet  be  in  great  doubt  as  to  whether 
he  is  jne  or  not.  — Beecher, 

IV.  YET  EVEN  BY  GENUINE  BELIEVERS 
IS  NOT  A  L  IV A  VS  A  TTA I  NED. 

(311.)  Suppose  thou  hast  not  yet  attained  so  much 
as  to  this  inward  peace,  yet  know  thou  hast  no  rea- 
son to  question  the  truth  of  thy  faith  for  want  of 
this.  \Ve  have  peace  with  God  as  soon  as  we  be- 
lieve, but  not  always  with  ourselves.  The  pardon 
may  be  past  the  prince's  hand  and  seal,  and  yet 
not  put  into  the  prisoner's  hand.  Thou  thinkest 
tliem  too  rash  (dost  not  ?)  who  judged  Paul  a  mur- 
derer by  the  viper  that  fastened  on  his  hand.  And 
what  art  thou,  who  condeninest  thyself  for  an 
unbeliver,  because  of  those  troubles  and  inward 
agonies  wliich  may  fasten  for  a  time  on  the  spirit 
of  the  most  gracious  child  God  hath  on  earth  ? 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(312.)  Assurance  is  a  fruit  that  grows  out  of 
the  root  of  faith  ;  the  fruits  in  winter  appear  not 
upon  the  tree.  Because  I  see  not  a  flourishing  top, 
shall  I  deny  the  existence  and  sap])iness  of  the 
root?  Mary,  when  she  wept  at  Christ's  feet,  had 
no  assurance  of  His  love,  yet  Christ  sends  her  away 
with  the  encomium  of  her  faith,  acted  before  the 
comfort  dropped  from  His  lips.  (Luke  vii.  45-50.) 
The  characters  of  faith  may  be  written  in  the  heart 
as  letters  engraven  upon  a  seal,  yet  filled  with  so 
much  dust  as  not  to  be  distinguished  ;  the  dust 
hinders  the  reading  of  the  letters,  but  does  not  raze 
them  out.  — Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

(313.)  A  child  of  God  may  have  the  kingdom  of 
grace  in  his  heart,  yet  not  know  it.  The  cup  was 
in  Benjamin's  sack,  though  he  did  not  know  it  was 
there  ;  thou  mayest  have  faith  in  thy  heart,  the  cup 
may  be  in  thy  sack,  though  thou  knowest  it  not. 
Old  Jacob  wept  for  his  son  Joseph,  when  Joseph 
was  alive  ;  thou  mayest  weep  for  want  of  grace, 
when  grace  may  be  alive  in  thy  heart.  The  seed 
may  be  in  the  ground,  when  we  do  not  see  it  spring 
up  ;  the  seed  of  God  may  be  sown  in  thy  heart, 
though  thou  dost  not  perceive  the  springing  of  it 
up.     Think  not  grace  is  lost,  because  it  is  hiil. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(314.)  Salvation,  and  the  joy  of  salvation,  are  not 
always  contemporaneous  :  the  latter  does  not  always 
accompany  the  former  in  present  experience,  though 
ultimately,  as  cause  and  effect,  they  must  be  united. 
Though  they  are  not  parallel  lines,  yet  they  are 
converging  lines  which  must  meet  at  last,  however 
gradual  be  the  tendency  towards  each  other.  They 
differ  as  life  and  health,  as  heirship  and  the  means 
of  knowing  it.  — Salter,  1840. 

V.  EFFORTS  SHOULD  BE  MADE  TO  AT- 
TAIN IT. 

(315.)  Labour  as  to  know  heaven  to  be  the  only 
happiness,  so  also  to  be  thy  hapjMness.  We  may 
confess  heaven  to  be  the  best  condition,  though  we 
despair  of  enjoying  it  ;  and  we  may  desire  and  seek 
it,  if  we  see  the  oblainment  to  be  but  probable  and 


hopeful  :  but  we  can  never  delightfully  rejoice  in  it, 
till  we  are  somewhat  persuaded  of  our  title  to  it. 
'What  comfort  is  it  to  a  man  that  hath  not  a  bit  to 
put  in  his  mouth,  to  see  a  feast  which  he  must 
not  taste  of?  What  delight  hath  a  man  that  hath 
not  a  house  to  put  his  head  in,  to  see  sumptuous 
buildings  of  others?  Would  not  all  this  rather 
increase  his  anguish,  and  make  him  more  sensible 
of  his  own  misery?  So,  for  a  man  to  know  the 
excellences  of  heaven,  and  not  to  know  whether  he 
shall  ever  enjoy  them,  may  well  raise  desire,  and 
provoke  to  seek  it,  but  it  will  raise  but  little  joy  and 
content.  Who  will  set  his  heart  on  another  mans 
possessions?  If  your  house,  your  goods,  your 
cattle,  were  not  your  own,  you  would  less  mind 
them,  and  delight  less  in  them.  Oh,  therefore, 
Christian,  rest  not  till  you  can  call  this  rest  youi 
own  ;  sit  not  down  without  assurance. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(316.)  You  have  a  valuable  house  or  farm.  It  is 
suggested  that  the  title  is  not  good.  You  employ 
counsel.  You  have  the  deeds  examined.  \'o\\ 
search  the  record  for  mortgages,  judgments,  and 
liens.  You  are  not  satisfied  until  you  have  a  certi- 
ficate, signed  by  the  great  seal  of  the  State,  assur- 
ing you  that  the  title  is  good.  Yet  iiow  many 
leave  their  title  to  heaven  an  undecided  matter  ! 
Why  do  you  not  go  to  the  records,  and  fuui  it  ? 
Give  yourself  no  rv^..  day  nor  night,  until  you  can 
read  your  title  clear  10  mansions  in  the  skies. 

—  7'altnage. 

VI.  COUNSELS  TO  THOSE  WHO  ARE  SEEK- 
ING TO  ATTAIN  IT. 

1.  Avoid  ever3rtMiig  that  would  tend  to  cauae 
you  to  return  an  untrue  verdict. 

(317.)  Let  not  self-love,  partiality,  or  pride  on 
the  one  side,  or  fear  on  the  other  side,  pervert  your 
judgment  in  the  trial,  and  hinder  you  from  the  dis- 
cerning of  the  truth.  Some  men  cannot  see  the 
clearest  evidences  of  their  unsanctified  hearts, 
because  self-love  will  give  them  leave  to  believe 
nothing  of  themselves  which  is  bad  or  sad.  They 
will  believe  that  which  is  good  and  pleasant,  be  it 
never  so  evidently  false.  As  if  a  thief  could  be  saved 
from  the  gallows,  by  a  strong  conceit  that  he  is  a 
true  man  :  or  the  conceit  that  one  is  learned  would 
make  him  learned.  Others,  through  timorousness, 
can  believe  nothing  that  is  good  or  comfortable  of 
themselves ;  like  a  man  on  the  top  of  a  steeple, 
who,  though  he  know  that  he  stand eth  fast  and 
safe,  yet  trembleth  when  he  looketh  down,  and  can 
scarce  believe  his  own  understanding.  Silence  all 
the  objections  of  an  over-timorous  mind,  and  it  will 
doubt  and  tremble  still.       — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(318.)  Look  not  so  much  either  at  what  you 
should  be,  or  at  what  others  are,  as  to  forget  what 
you  are  yourselves.  Some  look  so  much  at  the 
glory  of  that  full  perfection  which  they  want,  a.5 
that  their  present  grace  seemeth  nothing  to  them  ; 
like  a  candle  to  one  that  hath  been  gazing  on  the 
sun.  And  some  look  so  much  at  the  debauchery  of 
the  worst,  that  they  think  their  lesser  wickedness  to 
be  holiness.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(319.)  It  concerns  all  who  think  it  worth  while  to 
be  in  earnest  with  their  immortal  souls  not  to  abuse 
themselves  with  a  false  confidence  ;  a  thing  so  ejtsily 
taken  up,  isid  so  hardly  laid  down. 

—South,  1633-1716. 


ASSURANCE. 


(    47    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


2.  Sem^^iber  that  It  is  reasonable  only  In  tbe 
regrenertite. 

(320.)  "Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus,  who,  according  to  His  abundant  mercy,  hath 
oegotten  us  again  to  a  lively  hope."  The  new  birth 
entitles  to  the  new  hope  ;  if  the  soul  be  dead,  the 
hope  cannot  be  alive.  And  the  soul  may  be  dead, 
and  yet  put  into  a  very  handsome  dress  of  external 
reformation  and  profession,  as  well  as  a  dead  body 
may  be  clad  with  rich  clothes.  A  beggar's  son  got 
into  the  clothes  cf  a  rich  man's  chikl,  may  as  well 
hope  tD  be  heir  to  the  rich  man's  land,  as  thou,  by 
an  external  reformation  and  profession,  to  be  God's 
heir  in  glory.  — Gurmill,  161 7-1679. 

8.  Remember  that  It  Is  attained  gradually. 

(321.)  True  faith  is  at  first  nothing,  but  an  embryo, 
it  is  minute  and  sioall  ;  it  is  full  of  doubtings, 
temptations,  and  f.'^ais  :  it  begins  in  weakness. 
It  is  like  the  smoking  flax  (Matt.  xii.  20).  It 
smokes  with  desires,  but  coth  not  flame  with  com- 
fort ;  it  is  at  first  so  small  that  it  is  scarce  discern- 
ible. Such  as,  at  the  first  dash,  have  a  strong  per- 
suasion that  Christ  is  theirs,  who  leap  out  of  sin 
into  assurance,  their  faith  is  false  and  spurious  :  that 
faith,  which  is  come  to  its  full  stature  on  its  birth- 
day, is  a  monster.  The  seed  that  sprang  up  sud- 
denly withered  (Matt.  xiii.  5).      — Wutson^  1696. 

4.  Remember  that  it  is  frequently  not  attained 
till  late  in  life. 

(322  ^  Have  you  never,  in  a  summer  morning, 
seen  the  sun  come  nimbly  up  only  to  make  battle 
with  the  clouds?  It  is  obscured  when  it  first  rises  ; 
but  by  ten  o'clock  it  is  seen  again.  By  eleven 
o'clock  it  is  obscured  once  more.  Through  all  the 
forenoon  it  is  stormy  and  cloudy  by  turns.  All  the 
afternoon  there  are  dense  vaporous  clouds  which 
shroud  the  sun's  glory.  And  yet,  as  he  draws  near 
to  the  horizon  the  clouds  lift,  and  with  full-orbed 
majesty  he  descends  into  the  open  space,  and  looks 
back  across  the  whole  earth  ;  and  he  is  never  so 
radiant  as  just  before  he  sets.  Having  triumphed 
over  the  day,  having  come  out  victorious  over  the 
storm,  he  goes  down  in  wondrous  beauty. 

So  have  I  seen  men  and  women  go  through 
sorrows  and  conflicts,  through  storms  and  suffering, 
during  their  mortal  life,  with  here  and  there  an 
experience  of  joy,  till  they  came  to  their  last  years, 
when  God  said  to  them,  "Stand  a  little  while,  my 
child,  and  shine  ; "  and  they  stood,  luminous,  to 
teach  men  how  real  is  the  transformation  of  the 
soul,  by  love,  into  the  likeness  of  God  ;  and  how 
beautiful  was  holiness  as  exemplified  by  them  ! 

— Beechtr, 

6.  Remember  that  some  men,  eminent  for  holi- 
ness and  usefulness,  have  had  painful  doubts  as 
to  their  acceptance  with  God. 

(323.)  The  characteristic  mark  of  early  Christian 
experience  was  its  certainty  and  overflowing  joy. 
It  was  transcendent  in  its  conviction  of  certainty  ; 
and  nowhere  can  we  find,  in  the  personal  expe- 
riences that  are  recorded  or  hinted  at  in  the  Nev/ 
Testament,  wavering  or  doubt. 

My  veneral)le  father  after  he  came  to  Brooklyn, 
having  been  more  than  half  a  century  a  preacher 
and  leader  of  souls,  as  simple-hearted  a  man  and  as 
honest  as  ever  drew  bceath, — a  thoroughly  manly 
man, — after  he  was  laid  ^de  from  preachirm,  said 


to  his  daughter  one  day,  "  I  have  been  attempting 
to  ascertain  the  grounds  of  my  hope  ;  and  I  have 
tried  to  deal  with  myself  just  as  I  would  with  an 
inquiring  soul  that  thought  it  had  a  hope,  and  I 
have  spent  two  days,  and  I  have  thoroughly  looked 
at  everything,  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclusiijn 
that  I  have  a  right  to  the  hope  that  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian." 

Suppose  George  Washington,  in  his  Jait  sick- 
ness, had  whispered  to  his  doctor,  "  I  have  been 
looking  over  my  whole  career  to  know  \\hether  I 
have  a  right  to  call  myself  a  patriot,  to  ascertain 
whether  I  have  really  loved  my  country  ;  and  in 
this  review  of  my  career  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion, with  great  caution,  that,  on  the  whole,  I 
may  think  that  I  am  patriotic  in  my  spirit,"  what 
would  be  thought  of  it  ? 

More  than  that,  suppose  a  child  that  had  been 
reared  in  the  household,  revering  father  and  mother, 
coming  to  the  age  of  thirty  or  forty  years,  through 
sorrow,  through  sickness,  through  joy,  through 
light,  through  darkness,  friended  all  the  way  by 
the  parental  presence,  should  sit  down  and  write 
in  his  or  her  journal,  "  I  have  been  greatly  dis- 
turbed lest  I  should  be  deceived  in  regard  to  my 
feelings  toward  niy  father  and  my  mother  ;  I  have 
made  it  a  subject  of  calm  investigation  and  review  ; 
and  I  have  been  led,  at  last,  by  the  Divine  Spirit  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  may  believe  that  I  do  love 
my  father  and  my  mother."  What  would  any  one 
think  of  the  solemnity  with  which  a  child  came  to 
such  a  simple  statement  as  that  ?  — Beecher. 

VII.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  ATTAINED. 

1.  By  the  exercise  of  faith  In  God's  promises  to 
Tjardon  the  penitent. 

(324.)  First,  exercise  faith  on  forgiveness  in 
God  ;  and  when  the  soul  is  fixed  therein,  it  will 
have  a  ground  and  foundation  whereon  it  may 
stand  securely  in  making  application  of  it  to  itself. 
Drive  this  principle,  in  the  first  place,  unto  a  stable 
issue  upon  Gospel  evidence,  answer  the  objections 
that  lie  against  it,  and  then  you  may  proceed.  In 
believing  the  soul  makes  a  conquest  upon  Satan's 
territories.  Do,  then,  as  they  do  who  are  entering 
on  an  enemy's  country, — secure  the  passages,  fortify 
the  strongholds  as  you  go  on,  that  you  be  not  cut 
off  in  your  progress.  Be  not  as  a  ship  at  sea,  which 
passes  on,  and  is  no  more  possessed  or  master  cA 
the  water  it  has  gone  through,  than  of  that  where- 
unto  it  is  not  yet  arrived.  But  so  it  is  with  a  soul 
that  fixes  not  on  these  foundation  principles  :  he 
presses  forwards,  and  the  ground  crumbles  away 
under  his  feet,  and  so  he  wilders  away  all  his  days 
in  uncertainties.  Would  men  but  lay  this  principle 
well  in  their  souls,  and  secure  it  against  assaults, 
they  might  proceed,  though  not  with  so  much 
speed  as  some  do,  yet  with  more  safety.  Some 
pretend  at  once  to  fall  into  full  assurance  ;  I  wish 
it  prove  not  a  broad  presumption  in  the  most.  It 
is  to  no  purpose  for  him  to  strive  to  fly  who  cannot 
yet  go,  —  to  labour  to  come  to  assurance  in  himself 
who  never  well  believed  forgiveness  in  God. 

— Owen,  i6i6-i£83. 

a.  By  keeping  grace  in  action. 

(325.)  Grace  is  never  apparent  and  sensible  ta 
the  soul,  but  while  it  is  in  action  ;  therefore  want 
of  action  must  needs  cause  want  of  assurance. 
Habits  are  not   felt   immediately,  but  by  the  free- 


ASSURANCE. 


C    48    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


ness  and  facility  of  their  acts  :  of  the  very  being  of 
the  soul  itself,  nothing  is  felt  or  perceived,  but  only 
its  acts.  The  fire  that  lieth  still  in  the  flint  is 
neither  seen  nor  felt,  but  when  you  smite  it,  and  force 
it  into  action,  it  is  easily  discerned.  The  greatest 
•action  dcth  force  the  greatest  observation,  whereas 
the  dead  and  inactive  are  not  remembered  or  talcen 
notice  of.  Those  that  have  long  lain  still  in  their 
graves  are  out  of  men's  thoughts  as  well  as  their 
.eight,  but  those  that  walk  the  streets,  and  bear  rule 
among  them,  are  noted  by  all  :  it  is  so  with  our 
graces.  That  you  have  a  habit  of  love  or  faith, 
you  can  no  otherwise  know  but  as  a  consequence 
by  reasoning ;  but  that  you  have  acts,  you  may 
know  by  feeling.  If  you  see  a  man  lie  still  in  the 
way,  what  will  you  do  to  know  whether  he  be 
drunk,  or  in  a  swoon,  or  dead?  Will  you  not  stir 
him,  or  speak  to  him,  to  see  whether  he  can  go  ; 
or  feel  his  pulse,  or  observe  his  breath,  knowing 
that  where  there  is  life  there  is  some  kind  of 
motbn  ?  I  earnestly  beseech  thee,  Christian,  ob- 
serve and  practise  this  excellent  rule  :  thou  now 
knowest  not  whether  thou  have  repentance,  or 
faith,  or  love,  or  joy ;  why,  be  more  in  the  acting 
of  these,  and  thou  wilt  easily  know  it.  Draw  forth 
an  object  for  godly  sorrow,  or  faith,  or  love,  or  joy, 
and  lay  thy  heart  flat  unto  it,  and  take  pains  to 
provoke  it  into  suitable  action,  and  then  see 
whether  thou  have  these  graces  or  not.  As  Dr. 
Sibbes  observeth,  "  There  is  sometimes  grief  for  sin 
in  us  when  we  think  there  is  none."  It  wants  but 
stirring  up  by  some  quickening  word  ;  the  like  he 
saith  of  love,  and  it  may  be  said  of  every  other 
grace.  You  may  go  seeking  for  the  hare  or  part- 
ridge many  hours,  and  never  find  them  while  they 
lie  close  and  stir  not ;  but  when  once  the  hare  be- 
takes himself  to  his  legs,  and  the  bird  to  her  wings, 
then  you  see  them  presently.  So  long  as  a  Chris- 
tian hath  his  graces  in  lively  action,  so  long,  for 
the  most  part,  he  is  assured  of  them.  How  can 
you  doubt  whether  you  love  God  in  the  act  of 
loving,  or  whether  you  believe  in  the  very  act  of 
believing !  If,  therefore,  you  would  be  assured 
whether  this  sacred  fire  be  kindled  in  your  hearts, 
blow  it  up  ;  get  it  into  a  flame,  and  then  you  will 
know ;  believe  till  you  feel  that  you  do  believe, 
and  love  till  you  feel  that  you  love. 

The  acting  of  the  soul  upon  such  excellent  ob- 
jects doth  naturally  bring  consolation  with  it. 
The  very  act  of  loving  God  in  Christ,  doth  bring 
inexpressible  sweetness  with  it  into  the  soul.  The 
soul  that  is  best  furnished  with  grace,  when  it  is 
not  in  action,  is  like  a  lute  well  stringed  and  tuned, 
which  while  it  lieth  still  doth  make  no  more  music 
than  a  common  piece  of  wood  ;  but  when  it  is 
taken  up  and  handled  by  a  skilful  lutist,  the  melody 
is  most  delightful.  "  Some  degree  of  comfort," 
saith  that  comfortable  doctor,  "  follows  every  good 
action,  as  heat  accompanies  fire,  and  as  beams  and 
influence  issue  from  the  sun  ; "  which  is  so  true, 
tliat  very  heathens  upon  the  discharge  of  a  good 
ronscience  have  found  comfort  and  peace  answer- 
ilile  :  this  \s  prcsnnictji  ante  priE?iiium,  a  reward  be- 
fore the  reward. 

As  a  man,  therefore,  that  is  cold,  should  not 
stand  still  and  say,  "  I  am  so  cold  that  I  have  no 
mind  to  labour,"  but  labour  till  his  coldness  be 
gone,  and  heat  excited  ;  so  he  that  wants  assurance 
of  the  tiuth  of  his  grace,  and  the  comfort  of  assur- 
ance, m  St  not  stand  still  and  say,  "  I  am  so  doubt- 
lul   and    unenmfortable   that   I   have   no   mind   to 


duty,"  but  ply  his  duty,   and   exercise  his  graces 
till  he  find  his  doubts  and  discomforts  to  vanish. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

3.  By  conference  with  experienced  CliTistlans. 

(326.)  If  you  cannot  see  the  sincerity  of  youf 
hearts,  go  to  your  faithful,  able  guides,  and  open 
the  case  to  them,  and  let  not  passion  prevail 
against  the  Scripture  and  reason  which  they  bring. 
Yea,  if  in  your  trouble  you  cannot  by  all  their 
helps  perceive  the  uprightness  of  your  hearts,  I 
must  tell  you,  you  may  stay  yourselves  much  upon 
their  judgment  of  your  state.  Though  it  cannot 
give  you  full  assurance,  it  may  justly  help  to  silence 
much  of  your  self-accusations,  and  give  you  the 
comfort  of  probability.  If  a  physician  that  feels 
not  what  you  feel,  shall  yet,  upon  your  speeches 
and  other  evidences,  tell  you  that  he  is  confident 
your  disease  is  not  mortal,  nor  containeth  any  cause 
of  fear,  you  may  rationally  be  much  encouraged  by 
his  judgment,  though  it  give  you  no  certainty  of 
life.  As  wicked  men  through  contempt,  so  many 
godly  people  through  melancholy,  do  lose  much 
of  the  fruit  of  the  office  of  the  ministry,  which  lieth 
much  in  this  assisting  men  to  judge  of  the  life  or 
death  of  their  souls.  "  Alas  !  "  say  they,  "  he  feels 
not  what  I  feel  :  he  useth  to  judge  charitably,  and 
he  knoweth  not  me  so  well  as  I  know  myself." 
But  when  you  have  told  him  faithfully,  as  you  do 
your  physician,  what  it  is  that  you  know  by  your- 
self, he  is  able  to  pass  a  far  sounder  judgment  of 
your  life  or  death  than  yourselves  can  do,  for  all 
your  feeling  :  for  he  knovi's  better  what  those  symp- 
toms signify,  and  what  is  used  to  be  the  issue  of 
such  a  case  as  yours.  Be  not,  then,  so  proud  or 
wilful  as  to  refuse  the  judgment  of  your  faithful 
pastors,  about  the  state  of  your  souls,  in  a  confi- 
dence on  your  own.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

VI 11.    REASONS  FOR  CHERISHING  IT. 
1.  Holiness  In  tlie  life. 

(327.)  Both  faith  and  hope  are  of  a  cleansing 
nature  (Acts  xv.  9 ;  i  John  iii.  3).  The  devil  ij 
an  unclean  spirit ;  he  fouls  wheresoever  he  comes ; 
and  all  sin  is  nasty  and  beastly.  Faith  and  hope, 
like  as  neat  housewives  when  they  come  into  a  foul 
and  sluttish  house,  cleanse  all  the  rooms  of  the 
soul,  and  make  it  a  fit  habitation  for  the  spirit  of 
God.  Are  our  hearts  lifted  up,  then,  in  a  comfort- 
able expectation  of  the  performance  of  God's  merci- 
ful promises  ?  And  are  they,  together  with  our 
lives,  swept  and  cleansed  from  the  wonted  cornip- 
tions  of  our  nature,  and  pollutions  of  our  sin  ?  This 
is  an  undoubted  evidence  oi  our  calling  and  elec- 
tion. — Hall,  1 574-1656. 

(328.)  \^^lerever  God  pardons  sin.  He  subdues 
it  (Micah  vii.  19).  Then  is  the  condemning  power 
of  sin  taken  away,  when  the  commanding  power  of 
it  is  taken  away.  If  a  malefactor  be  in  prison, 
how  shall  he  know  that  his  prince  hath  pardoned 
him  ?  If  a  jailer  come  and  knock  off  his  chains 
and  fetters,  and  lets  him  out  of  prison,  then  he  may 
know  he  is  pardoned  :  so,  how  shall  we  k>  ow  God 
hath  pardoned  us  ?  If  the  fetters  of  sin  be  broken 
off,  and  we  walk  at  liberty  in  the  ways  of  Gcd 
(Ps.  cxix.  45),  this  is  a  blessed  sign  we  are  par- 
doned. —  iVatson,  1696. 


ASSURANCE. 


(    49    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


2.  A  sense  of  th';  burdensomeness  of  sin. 
(329.)  In  the  drawing  up  of  water  out  of  a  deep 

well,  as  long  as  the  bucket  is  under  water  we  feel 
not  the  weight  of  it,  but  so  soon  as  it  cometh  above 
water  it  beginneth  to  hang  heavy  on  the  hand. 
When  a  man  diveth  under  water  he  feeleth  no 
weight  of  the  water,  though  there  be  many  tons  of 
it  over  his  head  ;  whereas  half  a  tubful  of  the  same 
water,  taken  out  of  the  river  and  set  upon  the  same 
man's  head,  would  be  very  burdensome  unto  him, 
and  make  him  soon  grow  weary  of  it.  In  like 
manner,  so  long  as  a  man  is  over  head  and  ears  in 
sin,  he  is  not  sensible  of  the  weight  of  sin,  it  is  not 
troublesome  unto  him  ;  but  when  he  beginneth  once 
to  come  out  of  that  state  of  sin  wherein  he  lay  and 
lived  before,  then  beginneth  sin  to  hang  heavy  on 
him,  and  he  to  feel  the  heavj'  weight  of  it.  So,  so 
iong  aS  sin  is  in  the  will,  the  proper  seat  of  sin,  a 
man  feeleth  no  weight  of  it,  but,  like  a  fool,  it  is  a 
sport  and  pastime  unto  him  to  do  evil.  And  it  is 
therefore  a  good  sign  that  sin  is  removed  out  of  his 
seat,  out  of  his  chair  of  state,  when  it  becomes 
ponderous  and  burdensome  to  us,  as  the  elements 
do  when  they  are  out  of  their  natural  place. 

— Spencer,  1656. 

3.  Every  evidence  of  spiritual  Ufa,  however 
nnall. 

(330.)  A  spark  of  fire  is  but  little,  yet  it  is  fire  as 
well  as  the  whole  element  of  fire  ;  and  a  drop  of 
■Jvater,  it  is  water  as  well  as  the  whole  ocean. 

When  a  man  is  in  a  dark  place,— put  the  case  it 
be  in  a  dungeon, — if  he  have  a  little  light  shining 
in  to  him  from  a  little  crevice,  that  little  light  dis- 
covers that  the  day  is  broke,  that  the  sun  is 
risen. 

Put  the  case,  there  be  but  one  grape  on  a  vine, 
it  shows  that  it  is  a  vine,  and  that  the  vine  is  not 
dead.  So,  put  the  case,  there  be  but  the  appear- 
«»nce-of  but  a  little  grace  in  a  Christian,  perhaps  the 
Spirit  of  God  appears  but  in  one  grace  in  him  at 
that  time,  yet  that  one  grace  shows  that  we  are 
vines,  and  not  thistles,  or  thorns,  or  other  base 
plants,  and  it  shows  that  there  is  life  in  the  root. 
— Sibbes,  1 57 7-1 63 5. 

(331.)  There  is  the  same  reason  of  the  natural  life 
and  the  spiritual.  Life  where  it  is,  is  discerned  by 
breathing,  sense,  motion. 

Where  there  is  the  breath  of  life,  there  must  be  a 
life  that  sends  it  forth.  If,  then,  the  soul  breathes 
forth  holy  desires,  doubtless  there  is  a  life  whence 
they  proceed. 

Sense  is  a  quick  descrier  of  life  :  pinch  or  wound 
n  dead  man,  he  feels  nothing  ;  but  the  living  per- 
ceiveth  the  easiest  touch.  When  thou  hast  heard 
the  fearful  judgments  of  God  denounced  against 
sinners,  and  laid  home  to  the  conscience,  hast  thou 
rot  found  thy  heart  pierced  with  them  ?  hast  thou 
not  shrunk  inward,  and  secretly  thought,  "  How 
shall  I  decline  this  dreadful  damnation?"  When 
thou  hast  heard  the  sweet  mercies  of  God  laid  forth 
to  penitent  sinners,  hath  not  thy  heart  silently  said, 
"  Oh,  that  I  h.ad  my  share  in  them  !  "  When  thou 
hast  heard  the  name  of  Christ  blasphemed,  hast 
tnou  not  felt  a  secret  horror  in  thy  bosom?  All 
these  argue  a  true  spiritual  life  within  thee. 

Motion  is  the  most  perfect  discoverer  of  life.  He 
that  can  stir  his  limDs,  is  surely  not  dead.  The  feet 
()'  the  soul  are  the  affections.  Hast  thou  not  found 
iu  in)  self  a  \  ite  and  detestation  of  that  sin  wheie- 


into  thou  hast  been  miscarried  ?  Hast  thou  not  found 
in  thyself  a  true  grief  of  heart,  for  thy  wretched 
indisposition  to  all  good  things?  Without  a  true 
life  of  grace,  these  things  could  never  have  been. 
Are  not  thine  eyes  and  hands  many  times  lifted  up, 
in  an  imploration  of  mercy  ?  Canst  thou  deny,  that 
thou  hast  a  true,  though  but  weak,  appetite  to  the 
means,  and  further  degrees  of  grace?  What  can 
this  be,  but  that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteous- 
ness, to  which  our  Saviour  hath  pronounced  blessed- 
ness? —Hall,  1574-1656. 

(332.)  When  we  behold  primroses  and  violets 
fairly  to  flourish,  we  conclude  the  dead  of  winter  is 
past,  though  as  yet  no  roses  or  July  flowers  appear, 
which  long  after  lie  hid  in  their  leaves  or  lurk  in 
their  roots,  but  in  due  time  will  discover  them- 
selves. Thus,  if  some  small  buddings  of  grace  do 
but  appear  in  the  soul,  it  is  an  argument  of  far 
greater  growth  ;  if  some  signs  be  but  above  giound 
in  sight,  others  are  under  ground  in  the  heart ;  and 
though  the  former  started  first,  the  other  will  follow 
in  order  :  it  being  plain  that  such  a  man  is  passed 
from  death  unto  life,  by  this  hopeful  and  happy 
spring  of  some  signs  in  the  heart, 

—T.  Fuller,  160S-1661. 

(333-)  Tt  is  not  the  degree  of  grace  absolutely  in 
itself  considered,  wherein  sincerity  doth  consist,  nor 
which  we  must  inquire  after  in  trial,  but  it  is  the 
degree  in  a  comparative  sense  ;  as  when  we  compare 
God  and  the  creature,  and  consider  which  we  desire, 
love,  fear,  &c.,  more  ;  and,  therefore,  here  it  is  far 
easier  to  try  by  the  degree.  You  know  that  gold 
is  not  current  except  it  be  weight  as  well  as  pure 
metal.  Now,  if  you  put  your  gold  in  one  end  of 
the  scale,  and  nothing  in  the  other,  you  cannot 
judge  whether  it  be  weight  or  not  ;  but  if  you  put 
the  weights  against  it,  then  you  may  discern  it.  If 
it  be  downright  weight,  you  may  discern  it  without 
either  difficulty  or  doubt.  If  it  be  but  a  grain  over- 
weight, you  may  yet  discern  it  ;  though  it  is  possible 
it  may  be  so  little  that  the  scales  will  scarcely  turn, 
and  then  you  will  not  discern  so  easily  which  is  the 
heavier  end.  But  if  it  want  much,  then  you  will  as 
easily  on  the  other  side  discern  the  defectiveness. 
So  thus  here.  If  God  had  said  absolutely,  "  So 
much  love  you  must  have  to  me,  or  you  cannot  be 
saved,"  then  it  were  hard  to  know  when  we  reach 
the  degree.  But  you  must,  as  I  said,  put  Christ 
and  heaven  in  one  end,  and  all  things  below  in  the 
other,  and  then  you  may  well  find  out  the  sincerity 
in  the  degree.  Every  grain  that  Christ  hath  more 
than  the  creature  is  sincere  and  saving. 

— Baxter,  16 15- 1 691. 

(334.)  It  may  be,  some  weak  believer  may  be 
saying,  "Some  of  these  marks  I  know  to  my 
experience  ;  but  others  are  dark  to  uie,  therefore,  1 
doubt  of  all."  To  which  we  reply,  if,  indeed,  you 
have  one  saving  solid  mark,  and  can  really  close 
with  it,  it  may  satisfy  you,  though  you  be  in  the 
dark  in  others.  If  a  child  cannot  go,  yet  if  it  can 
suck  ;  if  it  cannot  suck,  yet  if  it  can  cry  ;  if  it  can- 
not cry,  yet  if  it  can  breathe,  it  is  a  mark  of  life  : 
so,  there  may  be  breathings  in  the  soul,  that  are 
evidential  of  life  and  faith,  when  other  things  are 
hid.  Oh,  try  yourselves,  and  look  to  God  to  search 
and  try  you  1  it  is  by  His  judgment  you  stand  o» 
lalL  — Erskine,  1680- 1754. 

I> 


ASSURANCE' 


(    SO    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


IX.    HINDRANCES  TO  ITS  ATTAINMENT. 

1.  The  weakness  of  our  spiritual  graces. 

(335.)  One  common  and  great  cause  of  doubting 
and  uncertainty  is  the  weakness  and  small  measure 
of  our  grace.  A  little  grace  is  next  to  none  :  small 
things  are  hardly  discerned.  He  that  will  see  a 
small  needle,  a  hair,  a  mote,  or  atom,  must  have 
clear  light  and  good  eyes  ;  but  houses,  and  towns, 
and  mountains  are  easily  discerned.  Most  Chris- 
tians content  themselves  with  a  small  measure  of 
grace,  and  do  not  follow  on  to  spiritual  strength 
and  manhood.  They  believe  so  weakly,  and  love 
God  so  little,  that  they  can  scarce  find  whether  they 
believe  and  love  at  all ;  like  a  man  in  a  swoon, 
whose  pulse  and  breathing  is  so  weak  and  obscuie 
that  it  can  hardly  be  perceived  whether  they  move 
at  all,  and,  consequently,  whether  the  man  be  alive 
or  dead.  The  chief  remedy  for  such  would  be  to 
follow  on  their  duty,  till  their  graces  be  increased. 
Ply  your  work  ;  wait  upon  God  in  the  use  of  His 
prescribed  means,  and  He  will  undoubtedly  bless 
you  with  increase  and  strength.  Oh  !  that  Chris- 
tians would  bestow  most  of  that  time  in  getting 
grace  which  they  bestow  in  anxious  doubtings, 
whether  they  have  any  or  none  ;  and  that  they 
would  lay  out  those  serious  affections  in  praying, 
and  seeking  to  Christ  for  more  grace,  which  rhey 
bestow  in  fruitless  complaints  of  their  supposed 
gracelessness !  I  beseech  thee.  Christian,  take  this 
advice  as  from  God  ;  and  then,  when  thou  believest 
strongly,  and  lovest  fervently,  thou  canst  not  doubt 
whether  thou  do  believe  and  love  or  not,  any  more 
than  a  man  that  is  burning  hot  can  doubt  whether 
he  be  warm  ;  or  a  man  that  is  strong  and  lusty  can 
doubt  whether  he  be  alive.  Strong  affections  will 
make  you  feel  them.  Who  loveth  his  friends,  or 
wife,  or  child,  or  anything  strongly,  and  doth  not 
know  it?  A  great  measure  of  grace  is  seldom 
doubted  of;  or,  if  it  be,  you  may  quickly  find  when 
you  seek  and  try.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

2.  Worldly  lusts. 

(336.)  If  you  cherish  yonr  sensual,  fleshly  lusts, 
and  set  your  heart  too  eagerly  on  the  world,  or  de- 
fend your  unpeaceableness  and  passion,  or  neglect 
your  own  duty  to  God  or  man,  and  make  no  con- 
science of  a  true  reformation,  it  is  not  any  inquiries 
after  signs  of  grace  that  will  help  you  to  assurance. 
You  may  complain  long  enough  before  you  have 
ease,  while  such  a  thorn  is  in  your  foot. 

— Baxter,  1 61 5- 1 69 1. 

8.  Distracting  thoughts. 

(337.)  The  heart  is  most  confused,  as  well  as 
dark  and  deceitful ;  it  is  like  a  house,  or  shop  of 
tools,  where  all  things  are  thrown  together  on  a 
heap,  and  nothing  keeps  its  own  place.  Tliere  are 
Buch  multiplicity  of  cogitations,  fancies,  and  passions, 
and  such  irregular  thronging  in  of  them,  and  such 
a  confused  reception,  and  operation  of  objects  and 
conceptions,  that  it  is  a  wonderful  difficult  thing  for 
the  best  Christian  to  discern  clearly  the  bent  and 
actions,  and  so  the  state  of  his  own  soul.  For  in 
such  a  crowd  of  cogitations  and  passions,  we  are 
like  men  in  a  fair  or  crowd  of  people,  where  a  con- 
fused noise  may  be  heard,  but  you  cannot  well  per- 
ceive what  any  of  them  say,  except  either  some  one 
near  you  that  speaks  much  louder  than  all  the  rest, 
c  else  except  you  single  out  some  one  from  the  rest, 
and  go  close  to  him  to  con  fer  with  him  of  purpose. 


Our  intellect  and  passions  are  like  the  lakes  ol  watei 
in  the  common  roads,  where  the  frequent  passage  ol 
horses  doth  so  muddy  it  that  you  can  see  nt. thing 
in  it,  especially  that  is  near  the  bottom  ;  when  \n 
pure,  untroubled  waters  you  may  see  a  small  thing. 
In  such  a  confusion  and  tumult  as  is  usually  in  men's 
souls,  for  a  poor  weak  Christian  to  seek  for  the  dis- 
coveiy  of  his  sincerity,  is,  according  to  the  proveib- 
to  seek  for  a  needle  in  a  bottle  of  haj. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

4.  Forgetfulness  of  the  true  object  of  faith. 

(338.)  Assurance  is  often  hindered  by  the  m'mt 
being  improperly  directed  to  faith  (as  if  it  wore  a 
kind  of  abstract  principle),  rather  than  to  the  t.uth, 
or  the  object  of  faith  ;  to  the  acts  of  their  mind,  in- 
stead of  the  truth  of  God.  To  such  we  would  simply 
say,  "Look  unto  Jesus."  A  man  who  hears  good 
news  and  believes  it,  knows  and  can  tell  whence  his 
joy  arises.  If  addressed  to  him,  and  containing 
what  is  adapted  to  his  circumstances,  it  fills  him 
with  gladness.  Tliis  gladness  does  not  arise  from 
any  reflection  on  the  exercises  of  his  mind  in  be- 
lieving it,  but  from  the  thing  itsel/hcWtv^d.  It  were 
well  for  our  peace  if  we  looked  more  to  the  thing 
testified,  than  in  what  manner  we  have  believed  the 
tidings.  — Salter,  184O. 

6.  A  melancholy  temperament. 

(339-)  A  melancholy  person  can  think  of  nothing 
with  confidence  and  comfort ;  there  is  nothing  but 
trouble,  confusion,  fears,  and  despair  in  his  appre- 
hension. He  still  seems  to  himself  undone  and  hope- 
less. A  person  naturally  timorous  cannot  choose  but 
fear,  if  you  show  him  the  clearest  reasons  of  assur- 
ance. These  are  like  pain  in  sickness,  which  faith 
and  reason  will  not  cure,  but  should  help  us  to  strive 
against  and  bear.  God  will  not  impute  our  diseased 
misery  to  us  as  our  damning  sin. 

It  is  one  thing  to  have  grace,  and  another  thing 
to  know  that  we  have  it ;  many  have  it,  who  doubt 
whether  it  be  sincere.  And  it  is  an  unspeakable 
mercy  to  have  it,  though  you  doubt  of  it.  God 
knoweth  His  grace  in  us,  and  will  own  it,  when  we 
doubt  of  it  or  deny  it.  As  long  as  this  foundation 
of  God  is  sure,  that  God  knoweth  who  are  His,  and 
while  we  name  Christ,  we  depart  from  iniquity,  we 
are  safe,  though  through  fear  we  are  uncomfortable. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

X.  EVEN  WHEN  IT  IS  ATTAINED,  IT  IS 
INTERMITTENT,  AND  NOT   ALWAYS  CLEAR 

AND  JOYFUL. 

(340.)  It  is  often  day  when  the  sun  doth  rot  shine, 
and  though  thick  clouds  breathed  from  the  air, 
make  a  sad  face  of  the  sky,  as  if  it  were  night,  yet 
we  cannot  say,  the  sun  is  gone  down.  Th^s  is  the 
condition  of  many  men  in  a  state  of  nature  ;  in  the 
state  of  salvation  the  sun  is  with  them  ;  they  are 
children  of  the  day,  yet  have  they  no  joy  of  their 
salvation,  their  sun  doth  not  shine,  they  have  no 
clear  day.  Hence  it  is  that  assurance  of  salvation 
will  not  content  the  soul,  except  it  may  have  the  joy 
of  salvation  also.  This  was  that  which  made  David 
cry  out,  **  Restore  unto  me  the  joy  of  1  hy  salva- 
tioD."  — Lake,  1626. 

(341.)  Look  upon  a  coal  covered  with  ashes; 
there  is  nothing  appearing  in  the  heap  but  only  dead 
ashes ;  there  is  neither  light,  nor  smoke,  nor  heat ; 


ASSURANCE. 


(    51    ) 


ASSURANCE. 


and  yet,  when  those  embers  are  stirred  to  the  bot- 
tom, ihere  are  found  some  living  gleams  which  do 
contain  fire,  and  are  apt  to  propagate  it.  Many  a 
Christian  breast  is  like  this  hearth,  no  life  of  grace 
appearing  there  for  the  time,  either  to  his  own  sense 
or  the  apprehension  of  others.  Whilst  the  season 
of  teinplalion  lasteth,  all  seems  cold  and  dead  ;  yet 
still,  at  the  worst,  there  is  a  secret  coal  from  the 
al'.ar  of  heaven  raked  up  in  their  bosom,  which,  upon 
the  gracious  motions  of  the  Almighty,  doth  both 
bi.-wray  some  remainders  of  that  Divine  fire  and  is 
easily  raised  to  a  perfect  flame.  Let  no  man,  there- 
foie,  deject  himself  or  censure  others  for  the  utter 
CKlinction  of  that  spirit,  which  doth  but  hide  itself 
in  the  soul  for  a  glorious  advantage. 

— Hall,  1574-1656. 

(342.)  Discomfort  not  thyself  too  much,  my  son, 
■with  the  present  disappearance  of  grace,  during  the 
hour  of  thy  temptation.  It  is  no  otherwise  with  thee, 
than  with  a  tree  in  winter  season,  whose  sap  is  run 
down  to  the  root ;  wherein  there  is  no  more  to  show 
of  the  life  of  vegetation  by  any  buds  of  blossoms 
that  it  might  put  forth,  than  if  it  were  stark  dead  : 
yet,  when  the  sun  returns,  and  sends  forth  his  com- 
fortable beams  in  the  spring,  it  burgeons  out  ai'rcsh ; 
and  bewrays  that  vital  juice,  which  lay  long  hidden 
in  the  earth.  No  otherwise,  than  with  the  hearth 
of  some  good  housewife,  which  is,  towards  night, 
swept  up ;  and  hideth  the  fire,  under  the  heap  of 
her  ashes  :  a  stranger  would  think  it  were  quite  out  : 
there  is  no  appearance  of  light,  or  heat,  or  smoke  ; 
but,  by  that  time  she  hath  stirred  it  up  a  little,  the 
bright  gleeds  show  themselves,  and  are  soon  raised 
to  a  flame  Stay  but  till  the  spring,  when  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness  shall  call  up  thy  moisture  into  thy 
branches  ;  stay  but  till  the  morning,  when  the  fire 
of  grace  which  was  raked  up  in  the  ashes  shall  be 
drawn  forth  and  quickened  ;  and  thou  shalt  find 
cause  to  say  of  thy  heart,  as  Jacob  said  of  his  hard 
lodging,  "Surely  the  Lord  is  in  this  place,  and  I 
knew  it  not"  (Gen.  xxviii.  16).  Only  do  thou,  not 
neglecting  the  means,  wait  patiently  upon  God's 
leisure  :  stay  quietly  upon  the  bank  of  this  Bethesda, 
till  the  angel  descend  and  move  the  water. 

— Hall,  1574-1656. 

(343.)  Temptation  time  is  a  dark  time.  When  a 
man  cannot  see  his  own  hand,  though  he  lift  it  up 
before  his  eyes,  then  he  is  in  the  dark  indeed.  Now, 
possibly  a  good  man  may  be  in  such  a  temj:'_atio", 
that  he  shall  not  be  able  to  see  the  lifling-up  of  his 
own  hand  in  prayer,  saying,  "I  go  to  prayer,  but  I 
cannot  pray  at  all  ;  and  that  which  I  do  perform,  it 
is  no  duty."  Sometimes  it  is  so  with  him,  that  he 
can*ot  read  his  own  graces  nor  see  them.  Though 
tl>e  fish  lie  playing  upon  the  water,  and  you  may 
see  them  in  a  fair  sunshine  ;  yet  in  a  storm  or  night 
ye  see  them  not,  though  they  be  in  the  pond  or 
river  still.  So  here,  though  when  the  light  of  God's 
countenance  doth  shine  upon  the  soul,  he  is  then 
able  to  see  and  read  his  own  graces ;  yet  if  it  be  a 
storm,  or  the  night  of  temptation,  he  cannot  see 
them  Why  ?  Not  because  they  are  not  in  his 
heart  and  life  as  before,  but  because  he  is  in  the 
dark.  — Bridge,  1600- 1 670. 

(344.)  True  believers  have  seasons  of  un  fruit  ful- 
ness, in  which  they  bring  forth  no  good  works, 
devout  thoughts,  or  holy  aspirations.  They  are 
then  like  the  trees  in  winter,  which  are  mdeed 
destitute  of  leaves,  but  are  not  destitute  of  sap  and 
life,    and   hence,    when    sprvc^    returns,    bud    and 


blossom,  and  bear  afresh.  The  ungodly,  however, 
resemble  withered  trees,  which  at  all  seasons  alike 
are  without  either  sap,  or  life,  or  fruit,  and  conse- 
quently are  fit  for  nothing  but  the  f.ce 

— Scj-her,  1 629- 1 693. 

(345.)  Take  heed  that  thou  dost  not  mistake  and 
think  thy  grace  decays,  when,  may  be,  'tis  only  thy 
temptations  increase,  and  not  thy  grace  decreases. 
If  you  should  hear  a  man  say,  because  he  cannot 
to-day  run  so  fast,  when  an  hundredweight  is  on 
his  back,  as  he  could  yesterday  without  any  such  a 
burthen,  that  therefore  he  was  grown  weaker,  you 
would  soon  tell  hiui  where  his  mistake  lies. 

— Sailer,  184O, 

(346.)  "  What  is  the  matter  with  the  light,  that 
you  look  so  dismally  dim  this  evening?"  said  the 
Wheelbarrow  to  the  Lamp  in  the  street. 

"The  light  is  the  same  as  ever  in  its  own 
nature,"  replied  the  Lamp,  "but  its  present  ap- 
pearance is  owing  to  what  surrounds  it  in  the 
atmosphere.  When  the  air  is  free  from  smoke  and 
mist,  the  light  looks  clear  and  bright  ;  but  when 
fog  arises  as  now,  the  brightest  Lamp  will  look 
dim,  and  shed  but  a  feeble  light." 

"  There  is  hardly  enough  to  see  one's  way  along 
now,  truly,"  said  the  Barrow. 

Inbred  corruptions  sometimes  arise  in  the  be- 
liever's heart  like  mists  from  the  earth,  which  cloud 
his  evidences,  distress  his  soul,  and  cause  him  to 
walk  in  darkness,  having  no  light  (Isa.  1.  lo), 

— Bowden. 

XI.  WHEN  ONCE  VOUCHSAFED,  IT  JS  NOT 
TO  BE  LIGHTLY  SURRENDERED. 

(347.)  Be  careful  to  keep  thy  old  receipts  which 
thou  hast  had  from  God  for  the  pardon  of  thy  sins. 
There  are  some  gaudy  days,  and  Jubilee-like  festi- 
vals, when  God  comes  forth  clothed  with  the  robes 
of  His  mercy,  and  holdiv  forth  the  sceptre  of  His 
grace  more  familiarly  to  His  children  than  ordi- 
nary, bearing  witness  to  their  faith,  sincerity,  &c. 
And  then  the  firmament  iiv  clear,  not  a  cloud  to  be 
seen  to  darken  the  Christiav^'s  comfort.  Love  and 
joy  are  the  soul's  repast  and  pastime,  while  this 
feast  lasts.  Now  when  God  withdraws,  and  this 
cheer  is  taken  ofl",  Satan's  wo.'k  is  how  he  may  de- 
face and  wear  off  the  remembrance  of  this  testi- 
mony, whicli  the  soul  so  lriump.h;s  jn  for  its  spiritual 
standing,  that  he  may  not  have  it  as  an  evidence 
when  he  shall  bring  about  the  suit  again,  and  put 
the  soul  to  produce  his  writings  for  his  spiritual 
state,  or  renounce  his  claim.  It  behoves  thee, 
therefore,  to  lay  them  up  safely  :  si'ch  a  testimony 
may  serve  to  non-suit  thy  accuser  many  years  hence. 
One  affirmative  from  God's  mouth  for  thy  pardoned 
state,  carries  more  weight  (though  of  old  date)  than 
a  thousand  negatives  from  Satan's. 

—  Gurnall,  i6.'7-  1679. 

(348.)  Judge  not  of  so  great  a  thing  by  sudden 
apprehensions,  or  the  surprise  of  a  temptadon, 
when  you  have  not  leisure  to  look  up  all  the  evi- 
dences of  faith,  and  lay  them  together,  and  uke 
a  full,  deliberate  view  of  all  the  cause.  It  is  a 
mystery  so  great  as  requireth  a  clear  and  vacant 
mind,  delivered  from  prejudice,  abstracted  frona 
diverting  and  deceiving  things;  which,  upon  the 
best  a.ssistance  and  with  the  greatest  diligence,  must 
lay  aliogeiher  to  discern  the  truth.  And,  if  upon 
the   best   assistance  and  consideration,   you  have 


ASSURANCE. 


(    5»    ) 


ATHEISM. 


been  convinced  of  the  truth,  and  then  will  let 
every  sudden  thought,  or  temptation,  or  difficulty 
seem  enough  to  question  all  again,  this  is  unfaith- 
fulness to  the  truth,  and  the  way  to  resist  the  clearest 
evidences,  and  never  to  have  done.  It  is  like  as 
if  you  should  answer  your  adversary  in  the  court, 
when  your  witnesses  are  all  dismissed,  or  out  of 
the  way.  and  all  your  evidences  are  absent,  and 
perhaps  youi  counsellor  and  advocate  too.  It  is 
like  the  casting  up  of  a  long  and  intricate  account, 
which  a  man  hath  finished  by  study  and  time ;  and 
when  he  hath  done  all,  one  questioneth  this  par- 
ticular, and  another  that,  when  his  accounts  are 
absent  :  it  is  not  fit  for  him  to  answer  all  particu- 
lars, nor  question  his  own  accounts,  till  he  have 
as  full  opportunity  and  help  to  cast  up  all  again. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

XII.  HO IV  IT  MAY  BE  STRENGTHENED. 
(349.)  Be  much  in  the  exercise  of  your   hope. 

Repeated  acts   strengthen  habits.     Thus  the  little 
waddling  child  comes  to  go  strongly  by  going  often. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 
(350.)  Resort  to  God  daily,  and  beg  a  stronger 
hope  of  Him.  That  is  the  way  the  Apostle  took  to 
help  the  saints  at  Rome  to  more  of  this  precious 
grace.  "  Now  the  God  of  h^pe  fill  you  with  all 
joy  and  peace  in  believing,  tnat  ye  may  abound  in 
hope,  through  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 
God  you  see  is  the  God  of  hope  ;  and  not  only  of 
the  first  seed  and  habit,  but  of  the  whole  increment, 
and  abounding  of  it  in  us  also.  He  doth  not  give 
a  saint  the  first  grace  of  conversion,  and  then  leave 
the  improvement  of  it  wholly  to  his  skill  and  care ; 
as  sometimes  a  child  hath  a  stock  at  first  to  set  up, 
and  never  hath  more  help  from  his  father,  but  by 
his  own  good  husbandry  advanceth  his  little  be- 
ginnings into  a  great  estate  at  last.  But  rather  as 
the  corn  in  the  field,  thai  needs  the  influences  of 
heaven  to  flower  and  ripen  it  for  harvest,  as  much 
as  to  quicken  it  in  the  clods  when  first  thrown  in. 
And  therefore  be  sure  thou  humbly  acknowledgest 
God  by  a  constant  waiting  on  Him  for  growth. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679, 

XIII.  IT  IS  NOT  TO  BE  ABUSED. 

(351.)  If  you  have  assurance  of  your  justification, 
do  not  abuse  assurance. 

1.  It  is  an  abusing  of  assurance,  when  we  grow 
more  remiss  in  duty ;  as  the  musician,  having 
money  thrown  him,  leaves  off"  playing.  By  remiss- 
ness, or  intermitting  the  exercises  of  religion,  we 
grieve  the  Spirit,  and  that  is  the  way  to  have  an 
embargo  laid  upon  our  spiritual  comforts. 

2.  We  abuse  assurance,  when  we  grow  pre- 
sumptuous and  less  fearful  of  sin.  What,  because 
a  father  gives  liis  sdh  an  assurance  of  his  love,  and 
tells  him  he  will  entail  his  land  upon  him,  shall 
the  son  therefore  be  wanton  and  dissolute.  This 
were  the  way  to  lose  his  father's  affection,  and 
make  him  cut  off'  the  entail  ;  it  was  an  aggravation 
of  Solomon's  sin,  "  his  heart  was  turned  avsay  from 
the  Lord,  after  He  had  appeared  to  him  twice." 
It  is  bad  to  sin  when  one  wants  assurance,  but  it  is 
worse  to  sin  when  one  hath  it.  Hath  the  Lord 
sealed  His  love  willi  a  kiss?  Hath  He  left  a 
pledge  of  heaven  in  your  hands,  and  do  you  thus 
requite  the  Lord?  Will  you  sm  with  manna  in 
your  mouth  ?   Dolh  God  give  you  the  sweet  clusters 


of  assurance  to  feed  on,  3Jid  will  you  return  Him 
wild  grapes?  It  much  pleaseth  Satan,  either  to  see 
us  want  assurance,  or  abuse  it  ;  this  is  to  abuse 
assurance,  when  the  pulse  of  our  souls  beats  lastei 
in  sin,  and  slower  in  duty.  — IVaison,  1696. 

XIV.    FOR  WHAT  END  IT  IS  BESTOWED.       « 

(352.)  Assurance  and  comforts  are  desirable,  but 
fruitfulness  is  absolutely  necessary.  If  we  do  not 
diligently  and  faithfully  mind  our  duty  in  the  lati- 
tude of  it,  and  apply  not  ourselves  wholly  to  the 
work  the  Lord  has  set  us  to  do,  we  shall  be  found 
unfruitful.  And  then  what  place,  what  ground  will 
there  be  for  comfort  or  assurance?  What  claim 
can  we  lay  to  the  privileges  we  are  so  much  taken 
with?  The  end  why  the  Lord  offers  us  comfort  and 
assurance  of  His  love,  is  to  make  us  cheerful  in  His 
service,  and  to  encourage  us  in  His  work,  and  en- 
gage our  hearts  in  it  thoroughly.  Now,  if  we  mind 
the  means  more  than  the  end,  we  act  irregularly 
and  irrationally. 

What  will  you  think  of  a  servant  who  minds  his 
refreshments  more  than  his  work?  Who  takes 
more  care  and  spends  more  time  about  his  meals 
than  in  his  labour  and  employment?  Will  you 
think  him  a  profitable  servant,  or  expect  much  fruit 
of  his  labour  ?  You  are  too  like  such  servants  when 
you  are  eager  for  comforts  and  spiritual  refresh- 
ments, but  less  active  for  God  in  a  way  of  service- 
ableness,  and  more  backward  to  do  or  suffer  what 
He  calls  you  to.  This  is  *■>  be  more  for  yourselves 
than  for  Him ;  and  while  you  are  so  disposed,  He 
is  not  like  to  find  much  fruit  on  you. 

— Clar/ison,  1622-1687, 


ATHEISM. 

I.    ITS   ABSURDITY  EVINCED. 
1.  By  the  existence  of  the  universe. 

(353-)  If  ^  '"^n  should  go  into  a  far  country,  and 
see  stately  edifices  there,  he  would  never  imagine 
that  these  could  build  themselves,  but  that  some 
greater  power  built  them.  To  imagine  that  the 
work  of  the  creation  was  not  framed  by  God,  is  as 
if  we  should  conceive  a  curious  landscape  to  be 
drawn  by  a  pencil  without  the  hand  of  a  limner. 

— IVatson,  1696. 

(354.)  I  appeal  to  any  man  of  reason,  whether 
anything  can  be  more  unreasonable  than  obstinately 
to  impute  to  chance  an  effect  which  carries,  in  the 
very  face  of  it,  all  the  arguments  and  characters  of  a 
wise  design  and  contrivance?  Was  ever  any  con- 
siderable work,  in  which  there  was  required  a  great 
variety  of  parts,  and  a  regular  and  orderly  disposi- 
tion of  those  parts,  done  by  chance  ?  Will  chance 
fit  means  to  ends,  and  that  in  ten  thousand  instances, 
and  not  fail  in  any  one  ?  How  often  might  a  man, 
after  he  had  jumbled  a  set  of  letters  in  a  hag,  fling 
them  out  on  the  ground  before  they  would  fall  into 
an  exact  poem  ;  yea,  or  so  much  as  to  make  a  good 
discourse  in  prose?  And  may  not  a  little  book  be 
as  easily  made  by  chance,  as  this  great  volume  of 
the  world  ?  How  long  might  a  man  be  in  sprink- 
ling colours  upon  canvas  with  a  careless  hand,  belore 
they  would  happen  to  make  the  exact  picture  ot  a 
man  ?  And  is  a  man  easier  made  by  chance  thao 
his  picture  ?     How  long  might  twenty  thousand 


ATHEISM. 


(    53    ) 


ATHEISM. 


blind  men,  who  should  be  sent  out  from  the  most 
remote  parts  of  England,  wander  up  and  down 
before  they  would  all  meet  upon  Salisbury  plains, 
and  fall  into  rank  and  file  in  the  order  of  an  army  ? 
And  yet  this  is  much  more  easy  to  be  imagined, 
than  how  the  innumerable  blind  parts  of  matter 
should  rendezvous  themselves  into  a  world.  A  man 
that  sees  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel  at  Westmin- 
ster, might  with  as  good  reason  maintain  (yea,  with 
much  better,  considering  the  vast  difference  between 
that  little  structure  and  the  huge  fabric  of  the  world), 
that  it  was  never  contrived  or  built  by  any  man,  but 
that  the  stones  did  by  chance  grow  into  those 
curious  figures  into  which  they  seem  to  have  been 
cut  and  graven  ;  and  that  upon  a  time  (as  tales 
usually  begin),  the  materials  of  that  building,  the 
stone,  mortar,  timber,  iron,  lead  and  glass,  happily 
met  together,  and  very  fortunately  ranged  them- 
selves into  that  delicate  order,  in  which  we  see 
them  now  so  closely  compacted  that  it  must  be  a 
very  great  chance  that  parts  them  again.  What 
would  the  world  think  of  a  man  that  should  advance 
such  an  opinion  as  this,  and  write  a  book  for  it  ? 
If  they  would  do  him  right,  they  ought  to  look  upon 
him  as  mad  ;  but  yet  with  a  little  more  reason  than 
any  man  can  have  to  say  that  the  world  was  made 
by  chance.  — Tillotson,  1630-1694. 

(355-)  As  when  a  man  comes  into  a  palace,  built 
according  to  the  exactest  rule  of  art,  and  with  an 
unexceptionable-conveniency  for  the  inhabitants,  he 
would  acknowledge  both  the  being  and  skill  of  the 
builder  ;  so  whosoever  shall  observe  the  disposition 
of  all  the  parts  of  the  world,  their  connection,  come- 
liness, the  variety  of  seasons,  the  swarms  of  different 
creatures,  and  the  mutual  ofitices  they  render  to  one 
another,  cannot  conclude  less,  than  it  was  contrived 
by  an  infinite  skill,  effected  by  infinite  power,  and 
governed  by  infinite  wisd'^m.  None  can  imagine  a 
ship  to  be  orderly  conducted  without  a  pilot;  nor 
the  parts  of  the  world  to  perform  their  several 
functions  without  a  wise  guide ;  considering  the 
members  of  the  body  cannot  perform  theirs,  without 
the  active  presence  of  the  soul.  The  atheist,  then, 
is  a  fool  to  deny  that  which  every  creature  in  his 
constitution  asserts,  and  thereby  renders  himself 
unable  to  give  a  satisfactory  account  of  that  constant 
uniforniity  in  the  motions  of  the  creatures. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(356.)  We  are  told,  that  there  was  an  innumerable 
company  of  little  bodies,  called  atoms,  from  all 
eternity,  flying  and  roving  about  in  a  void  space, 
which  at  length  hitched  together  and  united ;  by 
which  union  they  grew  at  length  into  this  beautiful, 
curious,  and  most  exact  structure  of  the  universe. 

A  conceit  fitter  for  bedlam  than  an  academy  ;  and 
taken  up,  as  it  were,  in  direct  opposition  to  common 
sense  and  experience.  For,  let  any  one  take  a 
vessel  full  of  dust,  and  shake  it  from  one  end  of  the 
year  to  the  other,  and  see  whether  ever  it  will  fall 
into  the  figure  of  a  horse,  an  eagle,  or  a  fish  ;  or  let 
any  one  shake  ten  thousand  letters  together,  till  by 
some  lucky  shape  they  fall  at  length  into  an  elegant 
poem  or  oration.  That  chance  and  blind  accident, 
the  usual  parent  of  confusion  and  all  deformity  in 
men's  actions,  should  yet  in  this  out-do  the  greatest 
art  and  diligence  in  the  production  of  such  admir- 
able, stupendous  effects,  is  contrary  to  all  the  rules 
*bat  human  nature  has  beer,  hitherto  accustomed  to 
judge  bj  ;  and  fit  for  none  to  assert  but  for  ijira 


who,    with  his  God,   has   also   renounced  his  rea« 
son.  — South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

(357-)  That  the  universe  was  formed  by  a  fortui- 
tous concourse  of  atoms,  I  will  no  more  believe 
than  that  the  accidental  jumbling  of  the  alphabet 
would  fall  into  a  most  ingenious  treatise  of  philo- 
sophy. — Swiji. 

(358.)  We  will  suppose  that  one  who  had  never 
seen  a  watch,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  hath  now  this 
little  engine  first  offered  to  his  view  ;  can  we  doubt 
but  he  would,  upon  the  mere  sight  of  its  figure, 
structure,  and  the  very  curious  workmanship  which 
we  will  suppose  appearing  in  it,  presently  acknow- 
ledge the  artificer's  hand.  But  if  he  were  also  made 
to  understand  the  purpose  which  it  serves,  and  it 
were  distinctly  shown  him  how  all  things  in  this 
little  fabric  concur  to  this  purpose — the  exact  mea- 
suring of  time — he  would  certainly  both  confess  and 
praise  the  great  ingenuity  of  the  first  inventor.  But 
now,  if  a  bystander,  beholding  him  in  this  admira- 
tion, would  undertake  to  show  a  profounder  reach 
and  strain  of  wit,  and  should  say,  — Sir,  you  are  mis- 
taken concerning  the  composition  of  this  much- 
admired  piece,  it  was  not  designed  by  the  hand  or 
skill  of  any  one,  there  were  only  an  innumerable 
company  of  little  atoms,  or  very  small  bodies,  much 
too  small  to  be  perceived  by  your  sense,  that  were 
busily  frisking  and  flying  to  and  fro  about  the  place 
of  its  nativity  ;  and  by  a  strange  cha7icf  (or  a  stranger 
fate,  and  the  necessary  laws  of  that  motion  which 
they  were  unavoidably  put  into,  by  a  certain  bois- 
terous undesigning  weaver),  they  fell  together  into 
this  small  bulk,  so  as  to  compose  it  into  this  shape 
and  figure,  and  with  this  same  number  and  order  of 
parts  which  you  now  behold,  one  squadron  of  these 
busy  particles  (little  thinking  what  they  were  about) 
agreeing  to  make  up  one  wheel,  and  another  some 
other,  and  so  on  in  that  proportion  which  you  now 
see, — all  conspiring  to  fall  together  each  in  its  own 
place,  as  that  the  regular  motion  failed  not  to  ensue, 
which  we  now  see  is  observed  in  it, — what  man  is 
there,  either  so  wise  or  so  foolish  (for  it  is  hard  to 
determine  whether  the  excess  or  the  defect  should 
best  qualify  him  to  be  of  this  faith)  as  to  be  capable 
of  believing  this  piece  of  natural  history  ?  And  if 
one  should  give  this  account  of  the  production  of 
such  a  trifle,  would  he  not  be  thought  in  jest  ?  And 
should  he  persist  in  repeating  the  statement,  would 
he  not  be  thought,  in  good  earnest,  mad  ?  Let  but 
any  sober  reason  judge  then,  whether  we  have  not 
unspeakably  more  manifest  madness  to  contend 
against,  in  such  as  suppose  this  world,  and  the 
bodies  of  living  creatures,  to  have  fallen  into  this 
frame  and  orderly  disposition  of  parts  wherein  they 
are,  without  the  direction  of  a  wise  and  designing 
cause  ?  And  if  the  concourse  of  atoms  could  make 
this  world,  why  not  (as  Tully  says)  a  porch,  or  a 
temple,  or  a  house,  or  a  city,  whi(?h  were  less  operose 
and  much  more  easy  performances  ?        — Irving. 

(359')  Should  you  see  a  fine  ship,  well  built, 
handsomely  rigged,  and  completely  equipped  for  a 
voyage,  could  you  believe  that  she  built  herself?  or 
that  she  was  built  by  chance  ?  or  that  she  sprung 
like  a  bubble  out  of  the  sea?  Would  you  not  feel 
as  certain  that  she  was  the  work  of  some  builder,  as 
if  you  had  stood  by  and  seen  him  shape  every  timber, 
and  drive  every  bolt  ?  And  can  you,  then,  be  made 
to  believe  that  this  great  ship,  the  world,  built  itself? 
or  that  it  was  built  by  chance  ?  or  that  it  sprung  out 
of  nothing  without  any  cause  ? 


ATHEISM. 


I    54    ) 


A  THEISM. 


S.  By  the  constitution  of  the  human  body. 

(360.)  When  we  examine  a  watch,  or  any  other 
piece  of  machinery,  we  instantly  perceive  marks  of 
design.  The  arrangement  of  its  several  parts,  and 
the  adaptation  of  its  movements  to  one  result,  show 
it  to  be  a  contrivance  ;  nor  do  we  ever  imagine  the 
faculty  of  contriving  to  be  in  the  watch  itself,  but  in 
a  separate  agent.  If  we  turn  from  art  to  nature,  we 
behold  a  vast  magazine  oi  contrivances ;  we  see 
innuirerable  objects  replete  with  the  most  exquisite 
desigii.  The  human  eye,  for  example,  is  formed 
with  admirable  skill  for  the  purpose  of  sight,  the  ear 
for  the  function  of  hearing.  As  in  the  productions 
of  art  we  never  think  of  ascribing  the  power  of  contri- 
vance to  the  machine  itself,  so  we  are  certain  the 
skill  displayed  in  the  human  structure  is  not  a  pro- 
perty of  man,  since  he  is  very  imperfectly  acquainted 
with  his  own  formation.  If  there  be  an  inseparable 
relation  betwixt  the  ideas  of  a  contrivance  and  con- 
triver— and  it  is  evident,  in  regard  to  the  human 
structure,  the  designing  agent  is  not  man  himself— 
there  must  undeniably  be  some  separate  invisible 
being  who  is  his  former.  This  great  being  we  mean 
to  indicate  by  the  appellation  of  Deity. 

-  Robert  Hall,  1764-1S31. 

8.  By  the  character  of  God's  works.  I 

(361.)  A  connoisseur  in  works  of  art,  so  soon  as  the 
dust  of  years  has  been  wiped  from  an  old  picture, 
can  name  the  master  who  painted  the  glowing  can- 
vas. So  also,  though  time  has  left  no  record  of 
their  history,  and  no  date  stands  carved  on  the 
cnimbling  ruins,  an  antiquarian  can  tell  from  its 
form  when  that  arch  was  sprung  ;  from  their  capi- 
tals, by  what  hands,  long  mouldering  in  the  dust, 
these  grand,  impressive,  silent  pillars,  were  reared 
on  their  massive  pedestals.  The  works  of  all  great 
men,  and  those  of  all  great  ages,  are  marked  by  pro- 
perties peculiar  to  themselves.  And  features  entirely 
their  own  are  eminently  characteristic  of  all  the 
works  of  God  ;  so  characteristic  of  these  that  the 
untutored  Arab  when  challenged  to  prove  in  God 
the  existence  of  a  being  whom  he  had  never  touched, 
nor  heard,  nor  seen,  regarded  the  scoffer  with 
amazement ;  nor  deigned  to  return  any  answer  to 
his  gibes,  but  one  borrowed  from  the  scenes  of  his 
native  desert :  "Just  ?s  I  know,"  he  replied,  in 
terms  worth  a  volume  Of  divinity,  "Just  as  1  know," 
pointing  to  a  footprint  on  the  sand,  "whether  it 
was  a  man  or  a  camel  that  passed  my  tent." 

So  distinguished  by  a  Divine  wisdom,  power,  and 
goodness,  are  God's  works  of  creation  and  provi- 
dence, that  all  nature,  by  the  gentle  voices  of  her 
skies  and  streams,  of  her  fields  and  forests,  as  well 
as  by  the  roar  of  breakers,  the  crash  of  thunder,  the 
rumbling  earthquake,  the  fiery  volcano,  and  the  de- 
stroying hurricane,  echoes  the  closing  sentence  of  this 
angel  hymn,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  God 
Almighty,  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  His  glory  !  " 

—  Guthrie. 

i.  67  the  preservation  and  goTernment  of  the 
universe. 

(362.)  The  wise  government  of  all  things  evinces 
there  is  a  God.  God  is  the  great  superintendent  of 
the  world ;  He  holds  the  golden  reins  of  govern- 
ment in  His  hand,  guiding  all  things  most  regularly 
ftnd  harmoniously  to  their  proper  end.  Who  that 
eyes  providence,  but  must  be  forced  to  acknowledge 
there  is  a  God  ?  Providence  is  the  queen  and  gover- 
ness oi  the  world;  it  is  the  hand  that  tuins  me 


wheel  of  the  whole  creation  ;  providence  sets  tha 
sun  its  race,  the  sea  its  bounds.  If  God  should  not 
guide  the  world,  things  would  run  into  disorder  and 
confusion.  When  one  looks  on  a  clock,  and  seea 
the  motion  of  the  wheels,  the  striking  of  the  ham- 
mer, the  hanging  of  the  plummets,  he  would  say 
there  was  some  artificer  did  make  it  and  put  it 
into  that  order  :  so,  when  we  see  the  excellent  ordei 
and  harmony  in  the  universe,  the  sun,  that  great 
luminary,  dispensing  its  light  and  heat  to  the  world, 
without  which,  the  world  were  but  a  grave  or  a 
prison ;  the  rivers  sending  forth  their  silver  streams 
to  refresh  the  bodies  of  men,  and  prevent  a  drought ; 
and  every  creature  acting  within  its  sphere,  and 
keeping  its  due  bounds  ;  we  must  needs  acknow- 
ledge there  is  a  God,  who  wisely  orders  and  governi 
all  these  things.  Who  could  set  this  great  army  o( 
the  creatures  in  their  several  ranks  and  squadrons, 
and  keep  them  in  their  constant  march,  but  He, 
whose  name  is  The  Lord  of  Hosts?  And  as 
God  doth  wisely  dispose  all  things  in  the  whole 
regiment  of  the  creatures,  so,  by  His  power,  lie 
doth  support  them.  Did  God  suspend  and  with- 
draw His  influence  never  so  little,  the  wheels  of  the 
creation  would  unpin,  and  the  axle-tree  break 
asunder.  — Watson,  1696. 

(363.)  Who  ever  saw  the  various  scenes  of  a 
theatre  move  by  hazard  in  those  just  spaces  of  time, 
as  to  represent  palaces,  or  woods,  rocks  and  seas,  as 
the  subject  of  the  actors  required  ?  And  can  the 
lower  world  four  times  in  the  circle  of  the  year 
change  appearance,  and  alter  the  seasons  so  con- 
veniently to  the  use  of  nature,  and  no  powerful  mind 
direct  that  great  work?  — Bates,  1625-1699. 

(364.)  Should  you  see  a  vessel  go  every  year,  for 
many  years  successively,  to  a  distant  port,  and 
return  at  a  set  time,  performing  all  her  voyages  with 
perfect  regularity,  and  never  going  a  cable  s  length 
out  of  her  course,  nor  be  a  day  out  of  her  time, 
could  any  man  persuade  you  to  believe  that  she  had 
no  commander,  pilot,  or  helmsman  on  board  ?  That 
she  went,  and  came  back  of  her  own  accord,  and 
had  nothing  to  steer  her  but  the  wind  ?  Would  you 
have  any  more  doubt  that  she  was  under  the  com- 
mand of  some  skilful  navigator,  than  if  you  were 
on  board  and  saw  him  ?  Look  then,  once  more,  at 
this  great  ship,  the  world  ;  see  how  regularly  she 
makes  her  annual  voyage  round  the  sun  "'■»'-"ut 
ever  getting  out  of  her  course,  or  being  a  day  or  an 
hour  out  of  her  time.  Should  she  gain  or  lose  a 
single  day,  in  making  this  voyage,  what  would  all 
your  tables  or  nautical  almanacks  be  good  fori 
Now,  ask  yourselves,  would  she  go  and  come  with 
such  perfect  regularity  and  exactness  of  her  own 
accord,  or  with  no  one  to  regulate  her  course  ?  Can 
you  any  more  doubt  that  she  is  under  the  direction 
of  some  wise  and  skilful  commander,  than  if  you 
saw  Him  regulating  all  her  motions  ? 

(365.)  If  reason  demands  that  the  creation  of  all 
things  should  be  ascribed  to  God,  to  whom  or  to 
what  are  we  to  ascribe  their  conservation  ?  The 
scoffer  calls  our  attention  to  the  fact,  that  "all 
things  continue  as  they  were  from  the  beginning  of 
the  creation?"  Let  him  explain  to  us  how  it  comes 
to  pass  that  they  do  so.  Why  is  it  that  for  so  many 
hundred  years  fire  has  always  burned,  and  watei 
moistened,  and  that  the  sky  has  been  blue,  and  the 
snow  white?     How  is  it  that  we  never  wake  up 


ATHEISM. 


(    55    ) 


ATHEISM. 


K>Tne  morning  to  find  that  in  the  night  there  has 
been  a  fall  of  blue  snow  ?  How  is  it  that  this  vast 
earth  has  swept  through  space,  with  inconceivable 
velocity,  for  so  many  thousands  of  years  without 
once  swerving  from  its  course,  or  increasing  or 
diminishing  its  distance  from  the  sun  ?  Is  it  by 
accident  that  the  seasons  succeed  each  other  with 
unvarying  regularity,  so  that  we  never  have  two 
summers  or  two  winters  together ;  or,  to  come  to 
myself,  how  is  it  that  my  heart  throbs,  and  my 
pulses  beat,  year  after  year ;  that  food  nourishes, 
and  sleep  refreshes  me?  Let  the  scoffer,  I  repeat, 
explain  to  us  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  "all  things 
continue  as  they  were  from  the  beginning  of  the 
creation,"  and  that  ail  the  events  of  nature  occur 
with  such  undeviating  regularity,  if  behind  all  the 
forces  of  nature  there  is  no  God  to  inspire,  guide, 
and  control  them. 

Does  it  make  any  difference  to  the  force  of  this 
argument,  that  no  man  has  seen  God  at  any  time  ? 
Because  God  is  hidden  from  us,  shall  we  therefore 
refuse  to  believe  that  it  is  by  Him  that  all  the  events 
of  nature  are  controlled  ?  Suppose  that  from  some 
elevated  position  I  could  during  the  past  week  have 
surveyed  the  six  Prussian  armies  marching  on  Paris, 
cavalry,  infantry,  artillery,  baggage  waggons,  am- 
bulances, all  converging  to  one  spot,  would  it  have 
been  reasonable  or  unreasonable,  scientific  or  un- 
scientific, to  believe  that  they  were  all  obeying  the 
orders  of  one  commander-in-chief?  Would  sound 
reason  have  demanded  that  I  should  refuse  to  believe 
this,  until  I  had  actually  sat  in  General  Moltke's 
tent,  and  heard  him  giving  his  directions,  and 
looked  over  his  shoulder  as  he  penned  his  orders? 
But  if  the  orderly  march  of  an  army  without  some 
master-mind  to  direct  it  is  inconceivable,  what  shall 
we  say  of  the  harmonious  progress,  age  after  age,  of 
the  mighty  forces  of  the  universe?  Is  there  not 
behind  them  One  who  directs  and  controls  all  their 
movements?  — /s".  A.  Bertram. 

II.    THE   FOLLY  OF  ITS   APPEAL  TO  THE 

SENSES. 

(366.)  It  is  a  universal  truth  in  regard  to  science, 
that  it  lies  beyond  tlie  sphere  of  the  senses.  The 
presiding  and  central  principle  of  astronomy,  and  to 
a  great  extent,  of  mechanics,  is  gravitation.  We 
see  and  feel  its  effects ;  we  feel  the  impact  of  a  fall- 
ing body  ;  we  see  th',-  change  in  the  places  of  the 
planets ;  but  who  has  seen  gravitation  itself?  We 
see  the  spark  prod\iced  by  the  electric  power  as  it 
passes  from  the  machine,  its  flash  as  it  bursts  from 
the  cloud,  the  combiiied  mass  of  neutral  salt  which 
the  same  power  forms  in  uniting  the  acid  and  the 
alkali ;  but  none  of  these  things  known  to  the 
senses  is  electricity  itself.  '1  his  who  has  seen  or 
can  see  ?  The  man  who  thinks  he  has  seen  gravi- 
tation or  galvanism,  as  much  mistakes  their  nature 
as  he  mistakes  the  nature  of  spirit  who  talks  of  see- 
ing one.  God  is  denied  because  not  known  to  the 
senses.  What  is  known  to  them  ?  Effects  only. 
And  these  are  not  our  learning ;  they  are  our  igno- 
rance, the  catechism  we  address  to  the  sciences; 
which  answer  only  by  advancing  above  the  region 
of  sense. 

In  illustration  of  these  general  ideas,  I  know  not 
that  I  can  adduce  anything  more  striking,  although 
I  do  not  by  any  means  consider  it  as  the  weightiest 
example  that  could  be  brought  forward,  than  the 
great  and  important  dis-'overies  of  Mr.  Faraday  in 


regard  to  electricity.  You  are  aware  tha'.  those  dss< 
coveries  appear  to  have  ascertained  that  electricity 
or  galvanism  (call  it  by  which  name  you  will),  or  the 
principle  of  voltaic  galvanism,  is  the  grand  combin- 
ing agent  throughout  the  matter  of  the  universe. 
You  are  aware  that,  in  reference  to  the  extent  of  its 
presence  in  the  creation,  Mr.  Faraday  appears  to 
have  ascertained  that  a  single  grain  of  water  is  held 
together  by  as  much  of  this  principle  as  would  form 
a  powerful  flash  of  lightning,  or  equal  to  8oi),ooo 
charges  of  his  powerful  Leyden  battery.  And  you 
are  aware  that,  with  all  this,  the  change  which  Mr. 
Faraday  has  introduced  into  the  definition  of  elec- 
Hcity  is  one  which  I  am  just  going  to  describe  : 
whereas  formerly  it  was  spoken  of  as  a  fluid,  or  as 
two  fluids,  the  definition  which  Mr.  Faraday  has 
reason  to  substitute  is,  that  it  is  an  axis  of  power, 
having  equal  and  opposite  forces.  In  other  words, 
that  it  is  known  to  us  solely  as  a  power  whose  pre- 
sence is  indicated  by  its  effects,  the  laws  of  whose 
working  constitute  for  us  its  definition  ;  but  that  as 
an  object  of  sense  in  itself  it  is  utterly  unknown  to 
us.  —A.  J.  Scott,  1 866. 

III.  THE  VASTNESS  OF  ITS  ASSUMPTIONS. 
(367.)  An  atheist  is  one  of  the  most  daring 
beings  in  the  creation,  a  contemner  of  God,  who  ex- 
plodes His  laws  by  denying  His  existence.  If  yc" 
were  so  unacquainted  with  mankind  that  this  chai- 
acter  might  be  announced  to  you  as  a  rare  or  singular 
phenomenon,  your  conjectures,  till  you  saw  and  heard 
the  man,  at  the  nature  and  the  extent  of  the  disci- 
pline through  which  he  must  have  advanced,  would 
be  led  toward  something  extraordinary.  And  you 
might  think  that  the  term  of  that  discipline  must 
have  been  very  long;  since  a  quick  train  of  impres- 
sions,  a  short  series  of  mental  gradations,  within  the 
little  space  of  a  few  months  and  years,  would  not 
seem  enough  to  have  matured  such  an  awful  heroism. 
Surely  the  creature  that  thus  lifts  his  voice,  and  de- 
fies all  invisible  power  within  the  possibilities  of  in- 
finity, challenging  whatever  unknown  being  may 
hear  him,  was  not  as  yesterday  a  little  child,  that 
would  tremble  and  cry  at  the  approach  of  a  diminu- 
tive reptile.  But  indeed  it  is  heroism  no  longer,  if 
he  knows  there  is  no  God.  The  wonder  then  turns 
on  the  great  process  by  which  a  man  could  grow  to 
the  immense  intelligence  that  can  know  that  there  is 
no  God.  What  ages  and  what  lights  are  requisite 
for  this  attainment !  This  intelligence  involves  the 
very  attributes  of  the  Divinity,  while  a  God  is  denied. 
For  unless  this  man  is  omnipresent,  unless  he  is  at 
this  moment  in  every  place  in  the  universe,  he  can- 
not know  but  there  may  be  in  some  place  manifesta- 
tions of  a  Deity  by  wliich  even  he  would  be  over- 
powered. If  he  does  not  know  absolutely  every 
agent  in  the  universe,  the  one  that  he  does  not  know 
may  be  God.  If  he  is  not  in  absolute  possession  of 
all  the  propositions  that  constitute  universal  truth, 
the  one  which  he  wants  may  be,  that  there  is  a  God. 
If  he  does  not  know  everything  that  has  been  done 
in  the  immeasurable  ages  that  are  past,  some  things 
may  have  been  done  by  a  God.  Thus,  unless  he 
knows  all  things,  that  is,  precludes  another  Deity  by 
being  one  himself,  he  cannot  know  that  the  Being 
whose  existence  he  rejects  does  not  exist.  And  yet 
a  man  of  ordinary  age  and  intelligence  may  present 
himself  to  you  with  the  avowal  of  being  thus  dis- 
tinguished from  the  crowd  1 

— Foster,  1 770-1 843. 


ATHEISM. 


(    56    ) 


A  TONEMENT. 


IV,  ITS   POl^KRLESSN'ESS. 

(368.)  Our  belief  or  disbelief  of  a  thing  does  not 
alter  the  nature  of  the  thing.  We  cannot  fancy 
thing's  into  being,  or  make  them  vanish  into  nothing, 
by  the  stubborn  confidence  of  our  imaginations. 
Things  are  as  sullen  as  we  are,  and  will  be  what 
they  are  whatever  we  think  of  them.  And  if  there 
be  a  God,  a  man  cannot  by  an  obstinate  disbelief  of 
Ilim  make  Him  cease  to  be,  any  more  than  a  man 
can  put  out  the  sun  by  winking. 

— Tilloison,  1 630- 1 694. 

V,  TS  USUALLY  IMMORAL  IN  ITS  ORIGIN. 
(369.)  Men  are  atheistical  because  they  are  first 

vicious,   and  question  the  truth  of  Christianity  be- 
cause they  hate  the  practice. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 


VI.    DEGRADES  MAN. 

(370.)  They  that  deny  a  God  destroy  a  man's 
nobility ;  for  certainly  man  is  of  kin  to  the  beasts  by 
his  body ;  and  if  he  be  not  of  kin  to  God  by  his 
spirit,  he  is  a  base  and  ignoble  creature.  It  de- 
stroys, likewise,  magnanimity  and  the  raising  human 
nature.  — Bacon,  1 560-1 626. 


VII.  IS  MORALLY  AND  SOCIALLY  DAN- 
GEROUS. 

(371.)  As  the  advantage  of  the  armed  over  the  un- 
armed is  not  seen  till  the  moment  of  attack,  so  in 
that  tranquil  state  of  society  in  which  law  and  order 
maintain  their  ascendency,  it  is  not  perceived,  per- 
haps not  even  suspected,  to  what  an  alarming  degree 
the  principles  of  modern  infidelity  leave  us  naked 
and  defenceless.  But  let  the  state  be  convulsed,  let 
the  mounds  of  regular  authority  be  once  overflowed, 
and  the  still  small  voice  of  law  drowned  in  the  tem- 
pest of  popular  fury  (events  which  recent  experience 
shows  to  be  possible),  it  will  then  be  seen  that  athe- 
ism is  a  school  of  ferocity ;  and  that  having  taught 
its  disciples  to  consider  mankind  as  little  better  than 
a  nest  of  insects,  they  will  be  prepared  in  the  fierce 
conflicts  of  party  to  trample  upon  them  without  pity, 
and  extinguish  them  without  remorse. 

^Robert  Hall,  1 764- 1 83 1. 

VIII.  IS  A  TRANSIENT  EXPERIENCE  IN 
AN  HONEST  MIND. 

(372.)  I  had  rather  believe  all  the  fables  in  the 
legend,  and  the  Talmud,  and  the  Alcoran,  than 
that  this  universal  frame  is  without  a  mind  ;  and 
therefore  God  never  wrought  miracles  to  convince 
atheism,  because  His  ordinary  works  convince  it. 
It  is  true  that  a  little  philosophy  inclineth  man's 
mind  to  atheism,  but  depth  in  philosophy  bringeth 
men's  minds  about  to  religion  :  for  while  the  mind 
of  man  looketh  upon  second  causes  scattered,  it 
may  sometimes  rest  in  them,  and  go  no  farther ; 
but  when  it  beholdeth  the  chain  of  them  confede- 
rate, and  linked  together,  it  must  needs  fly  to  pro- 
vidence and  Deity.  — Bacon,  1560- 1626. 

IX.  IS  RENOUNCED  BY  A  THEISTS  OF  ALL 
KINDS  IN  THE  TIME  OF  AFFLICT/ON. 

t373>)   The  Persian  messeiger  in  his  narrative  1 


to  the  king,  of  the  overthrow  of  his  army  by  the 
Grecians,  related  that  those  gallants,  who  before  the 
fight,  in  the  midst  of  their  corps  and  bravery,  denied 
God  and  providence,  as  secure  of  victoi7  ;  yet  after- 
wards, when  furiously  pursued  by  their  enemies, 
they  came  to  the  river  Strymon,  that  was  frozen 
and  began  to  thaw,  then  upon  their  knees  they 
mournfully  implored  the  favour  of  God,  that  the 
ice  might  hold  and  give  them  safe  passage  over 
from  the  pursuers.  Nature  in  extremities  has  irre- 
sistible workings,  and  the  inbred  notions  of  the 
Deity,  though  long  suppressed  by  imperious  lusts, 
will  then  rise  up  in  men's  souls.  Tullus  Hostilius 
is  another  example,  who  disdaine^  to  express  sub- 
mission to  God  by  acts  of  worship  as  a  thing  un- 
becoming his  royal  state  ;  but  when  his  stubborn, 
fierce  mind  was  broken  in  his  diseased  body,  he  used 
all  the  servile  rites  of  superstition,  and  commanded 
the  people  to  join  with  him,  thinking  by  his  flatter- 
ing devotions  to  appease  the  incensed  Deity.  Bion, 
the  philosopher,  was  a  declared  atheist,  till  struck 
with  a  mortal  disease,  and  then,  as  a  false  witness 
on  the  rack,  confessed  the  truth,  and  addressed 
himself  by  prayers  and  vows  to  God  for  his  re- 
covery. Egregious  folly,  as  the  historian  observes*, 
to  think  that  God  would  be  bribed  with  his  gifts, 
and  was  or  was  not  according  to  his  fancy  I  And 
thus  it  happens  to  many  like  him.  As  a  lamp  near 
expiring  shines  more  clearly,  so  conscience,  that 
burned  dimly  for  a  time,  gives  a  dying  blaze,  and 
discovers  Him  who  is  alone  able  to  save  or  to  de- 
stroy. But  how  just  were  it  to  deal  with  them  as 
Herofilus  with  Diodorus  Cronus,  a  wrangler  that 
vexed  the  philosophers,  by  urging  a  captious  argu- 
ment against  the  possibility  of  motion.  For  thus 
he  arj^i'?*'  .  a  stone,  or  whatever  else,  in  moving 
itself,  is  either  where  it  is,  or  where  it  is  not ;  if 
where  it  is,  it  moves  not ;  if  where  it  is  not,  then  it 
will  be  in  any  place,  but  where  it  is.  While  this 
disputing  humour  continued,  one  day  he  fell  pnd 
displaced  his  shoulder,  and  sends  in  haste  for 
Herofilus,  of  excellent  skill  in  surgery.  But  he, 
desirous  first  to  cure  his  brain,  and  then  his  shonlder, 
told  him  that  his  art  was  needless  in  that  case  :  for, 
according  to  your  own  opinion,  this  bone  in  the 
dislocation  either  was  where  it  was,  or  where  it  was 
not,  and  to  assert  either  makes  the  displacing  of  it 
equally  impossible.  Therefore  it  was  in  vain  to 
reduce  it  to  the  place  from  whence  it  was  never 
parted.  And  thus  he  kept  him  roaring  out  with 
pain  and  rage  till  he  declared  himself  convinced  of 
the  vanity  of  his  irrefutable  argument.  Now,  if, 
according  to  the  impiety  of  atheists,  there  is  no 
God,  why  do  they  invoke  Him  in  their  adversities? 
If  there  be,  why  do  tbey  deny  Him  in  their  pros- 
perity? — Bates,  1625-1699. 


ATONEMENT. 

I.    DEFINED. 

(374-)  Vicarious  suflferings  and  obedience  are 
penal  inflictions,  and  acts  of  obedience  to  law  which 
are  rendered  in  our  place  or  stead  (vice),  as  well  as 
in  our  behalf  by  our  substitute.  An  alien  goes  to 
the  army  in  the  place  of  a  drafted  subject.  He  is 
the  substitute  of  the  man  in  whose  place  he  goes. 
His  labours,  his  dangers,  his  wounds,  and  his  death, 
are  vicarious.  — Hodge, 


A  TONEMENT, 


C    57 


A  TONEMENT. 


II.    NECESSITY  OF  A  MEDIATOR, 

(375.)  After  all,  obedience  will  not  make  amends 
for  past  crimes  ;  for  obedience  is  a  debt  due  of  it- 
self, and  what  is  a  debt  of  itself  cannot  be  a  com- 
pensation for  another.  What  is  a  compensation 
must  be  something  that  does  not  fall  under  the 
notion  or  relation  of  a  debt  due  before,  but  con- 
tracted by  the  injury  done.  Obedience  was  due 
from  man  if  he  had  not  sinned,  and  therefore  is  a 
debt  as  much  due  after  sin  as  before  it ;  but  a  new 
debt  cannot  be  satisfied  by  paying  an  old.  As  sup- 
pose you  owe  a  man  money  upon  a  bond,  and  also 
abuse  him  in  his  reputation,  or  some  other  concern  ; 
is  there  not  a  new  debt  contracted  on  that  trespass, 
a  debt  of  reparation  of  him  in  what  you  have 
wronged  him  ?  The  paying  him  the  money  you 
owe  him  upon  bond  is  not  an  amends  for  the  injury 
you  did  him  otherwise.  They  both  in  law  fall 
under  a  difl'erent  consideration.  Or  when  a  man 
rebels  against  a  prince  of  whom  he  holds  some 
land,  will  the  payment  of  his  quit-rent  be  satis 
factory  for  the  crime  of  his  rebellion  ?  So  obe- 
dience to  the  law  in  our  whole  course  was  a  debt 
upon  us  by  our  creation  ;  and  this  has  relation  to 
the  preceptive  part  of  the  law,  and  to  God  as  a 
sovereign  ;  but  upon  sin  a  new  debt  of  punishment 
was  contracted,  and  the  penalty  of  the  law  was  to 
be  satisfied  by  suffering,  as  well  as  the  precepts  of 
the  law  satisfied  by  observing  them.  And  this  was 
a  debt  relating  to  the  justice  of  God,  as  well  as  the 
other  to  the  sovereignty  of  God.  Now  how  can  it 
be  imagined  that  man,  by  paying  the  debt  he  was 
obliged  to  before,  should  satisfy  the  debt  he  has 
newly  contracted  ?  The  debts  are  different :  the 
one  is  a  debt  of  observance,  the  other  a  debt  of 
suffering,  ami  contracted  in  two  different  states,  the 
debt  of  obedience  in  the  state  of  creation,  the  debt 
of  suffering  in  the  state  of  corruption  ;  so  that  the 
payment  of  what  was  due  from  us  as  creatures  can- 
not satisfy  for  what  was  due  from  us  as  criminals. 
All  satisfaction  is  to  be  made  in  some  way  to  which 
a  person  was  not  obliged  before  the  offence  was 
committed,  as  men  wronged  in  their  honour  are 
satisfied  by  some  acts  not  due  to  them  before  they 
were  injured.  So  that  all  men  taken  together,  yea 
the  creatures  of  ten  thousand  worlds,  cannot  by  the 
preceptive  part  of  the  law  satisfy  for  one  transgres- 
sion of  it,  because  whatever  they  can  do  is  a  debt 
due  from  themselves  before. 

— Ckarnock,  i620-i68a 

(376.)  The  sense  of  mankind,  with  regard  to  the 
necessity  of  a  mediator,  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
following  similitude : — Let  us  suppose  a  division  of 
the  army  of  one  of  the  wisest  and  best  of  kings, 
through  the  evil  counsel  of  a  foreign  enemy,  to  have 
been  disafi'ected  to  his  government ;  and  that,  with- 
out any  provocation  on  his  part,  they  traitorously 
conspired  against  his  crown  and  life.  The  attempt 
failed  ;  and  the  offenders  were  seized,  disarmed, 
tried  by  the  laws  of  their  country,  and  condemned 
to  die.  A  respke,  however,  was  granted  them  dur- 
ing his  majesty's  pleasure.  At  this  solemn  period, 
while  every  part  of  tlie  army  and  of  the  empire  was 
expecting  the  fatal  order  for  execution,  the  king  was 
employed  in  meditating  mercy.  But  how  could 
mercy  be  shown  ?  "  To  make  light  of  a  conspiracy," 
said  he  to  his  friends,  "would  loosen  the  bands  of 
good  government  :  ether  divisions  of  the  army  might 
be  t^muted  to  foU  ;*  their  cxafcple ;  and  the  nation 


at  large  be  in  danger  of  imputing  it  to  tameness, 
fear,*or  some  unworthy  motive." 

Every  one  felt  in  this  case  the  necessity  of  a  medi- 
ator, and  agreed  as  to  the  general  line  of  conduci 
for  him  to  pursue.  "  He  must  not  attempt,"  said 
they,  "  to  compromise  the  difference  by  dividing  the 
blame  ;  that  would  make  things  worse.  He  must 
justify  the  king,  and  condemn  the  outrage  committed 
against  him  ;  he  must  offer,  if  possible,  some  honour- 
able expedient,  by  means  of  which  the  bestowinent 
of  pardon  shall  not  relax,  but  strengthen  just  autho- 
rity ;  he  must  convince  the  conspirators  of  their 
crime,  and  introduce  them  in  the  character  of  sup- 
plicants ;  and  mercy  must  be  shown  them  out  of 
respect  to  him,  or  for  his  sake." 

But  who  could  be  found  to  mediate  in  such  a 
cause  ?  This  was  an  important  question.  A  work 
of  this  kind,  it  was  allowed  on  all  hands,  required 
singular  qualifications.  "  He  must  be  perfectly  clear 
of  any  participation  in  the  offence,"  said  one,  "or 
inclination  to  favour  it  ;  for  to  pardon  conspirators 
at  the  intercession  of  one  who  is  friendly  to  their 
cause  would  be  not  only  making  light  of  the  crime, 
but  giving  a  sanction  to  it." 

"  lie  must,"  said  another,  "be  one  who,  on  ac- 
count of  his  character  and  services,  stands  high  in 
the  esteem  of  the  king  and  of  the  public;  for  to 
mediate  in  such  a  case  is  to  become,  in  a  sort,  re- 
sponsible for  the  issue.  A  mediator,  in  effect, 
pledges  his  honour  that  no  evil  will  result  to  the 
state  from  the  granting  of  his  request.  But  if  a 
mean  opinion  be  entertained  of  him,  no  trust  can  be 
placed  in  him,  and,  consequently,  no  good  impres- 
sion would  be  made  by  his  mediation  on  the  public 
mind." 

"  I  conceive  it  is  necessary,"  said  a  third,  "that 
the  weight  of  the  mediation  should  bear  a  propor- 
tion to  the  magnitude  of  the  crime,  and  to  the  value 
of  the  favour  requested  ;  and  that  for  this  end  it  is 
proper  he  should  be  a  person  of  great  dignity.  For 
his  majesty  to  pardon  a  company  of  conspirators  at 
the  intercession  of  one  of  their  former  comrades,  or 
of  any  other  obscure  character,  even  though  he  might 
be  a  worthy  man,  would  convey  a  very  diminutive 
idea  of  the  evil  of  the  offence." 

A  fourth  remarked,  that,  "  He  must  possess  a  ten- 
der compassion  towards  the  unhappy  offenders,  or 
he  would  not  cordially  interest  himself  on  their  be- 
half." 

Finally.  It  was  suggested  by  a  fifth,  "That,  for 
the  greater  fitness  of  the  proceeding,  it  would  be 
proper  that  some  relation  or  connection  should  sub- 
sist between  the  parties.  We  feel  the  propriety," 
said  he,  "of  forgiving  an  offence  at  the  intercession 
of  a  fai>er  or  a  brother  ;  or,  if  it  be  committed  by  a 
soldier,  of  his  commanding  officer.  Without  some 
kind  of  previous  relation  or  connection,  a  mediation 
woul'^  V^ve  the  appearance  of  an  arbitrary  and  for- 
mal process,  and  prove  but  little  interesting  to  the 
hearts  of  the  community." 

Such  were  the  reasonings  of  the  king's  friends; 
but  where  to  find  the  character  in  whom  these  quali- 
fications were  united,  and  what  particular  expedient 
could  be  devised,  by  means  of  which,  instead  of  re- 
laxing, pardon  should  strengthen  just  authority,  were 
subjects  too  difficult  for  them  to  resolve. 

Meanwhile,  the  king  and  his  son,  whom  he  greatly 
loved,  and 'whom  he  had  appointed  generalissimo  of 
all  his  forces,  had  retired  from  the  company,  ax\i 
were  conversing  about  the  matter  which  attracted  the 
general  attention. 


ATONEMENT. 


(    58    ) 


A  TONEMENT, 


**My  son,"  said  the  benevolent  sovereign,  "what 
can  be  done  in  behalf  of  these  unliapjiy  men?  To 
order  them  for  execution  violates  every  feeling  of  my 
heart  ;  yet  to  pardon  them  is  dangerous.  The  army, 
and  even  the  empire,  would  be  under  a  strong  temp- 
tation to  think  lightly  of  rebellion.  If  mercy  be 
exercised,  it  must  be  through  a  mediator ;  and  who 
is  qualilied  to  mediate  in  such  a  cause?  And  what 
expedient  can  be  devised  by  means  of  which  pardon 
shall  not  relax,  but  strengthen  just  authority  ?  Speak, 
my  son,  and  say  what  measures  can  be  pur- 
Buetl." 

"My  father,"  said  the  prince,  "I  feel  the  insult 
offered  to  your  person  and  government,  and  the  in- 
jury thereby  aimed  at  the  empire  at  large.  They 
have  transgressed  without  cause,  and  deserve  to  die 
without  mercy.  Yet  I  also  feel  for  them,  I  have 
the  heart  of  a  soldier.  I  cannot  endure  to  witness 
their  execution.  What  shall  I  say  ?  On  me  be  this 
wrong  !  Let  me  suffer  in  their  stead.  Inflict  on  me 
as  much  as  is  necessary  to  impress  the  army  and  the 
nation  with  a  just  sense  of  the  evil,  and  of  the  im- 
portance of  good  order  and  faithful  allegiance.  Let 
it  be  in  their  presence,  and  in  the  presence  of  all 
assembled.  When  this  is  done,  let  them  be  per- 
mitted to  implore  and  receive  your  majesty's  pardon 
in  my  name.  If  any  man  refuse  so  to  implore,  and 
so  to  receive  it,  let  him  die  the  death  ! " 

"  My  son  ! "  replied  the  king,  "you  have  expressed 
my  heart  !  The  same  things  have  occupied  my 
mind  ;  but  it  was  my  desire  that  you  should  be 
voluntary  in  the  undertaking.  It  shall  be  as  you 
have  said.  I  shall  be  satisfied  ;  justice  itself  will  be 
satisfied  ;  and  I  pledge  my  honour  that  you  also  shall 
be  satisfied  in  seeing  the  happy  effects  of  your  dis- 
interested conduct.  Propriety  requires  that  I  stand 
aloof  in  the  day  of  your  affliction ;  but  I  will  not 
leave  you  utterly,  nor  suffer  the  beloved  of  my  soul 
to  remain  in  that  condition.  A  temporary  affiiction 
on  your  part  will  be  more  than  equivalent  to  death 
on  theirs.  The  dignity  of  your  person  and  character 
will  render  the  suffering  of  an  hour  of  greater  ac- 
count, as  to  the  impression  of  the  public  mind,  than 
if  all  the  rebellious  had  been  executed  ;  and  by  how 
much  I  am  known  to  have  loved  you,  by  so  much 
will  my  compassion  to  them,  and  my  displeasure 
against  their  wicked  conduct,  be  made  manifest. 
Go,  my  son,  assume  the  likeness  of  a  criminal,  and 
suffer  in  their  place  !" 

The  gracious  design  being  communicated  at  court, 
all  were  struck  with  it.  Those  who  had  reasoned 
on  the  qualifications  of  a  mediator  saw  that  in  the 
prince  all  were  united,  and  were  filled  with  admira- 
tion ;  but  that  he  should  be  willing  to  suffer  in  the 
place  of  rebels  was  beyond  all  that  could  be  asked  or 
thought.  Yet,  seeing  he  himself  had  generously  pro- 
posed it,  would  survive  his  sufferings,  and  reap  the 
reward  of  them,  they  cordially  acquiesced.  The  only 
di'ihculty  that  was  started  was  among  the  judges  of 
the  realm.  They,  at  first,  questioned  whether  the 
proceeding  were  admissible.  "  The  law,"  said  they, 
"  makes  provision  for  the  transfer  of  debts,  but  not 
of  Climes.  Its  language  is,  'The  soul  that  sinneth 
shall  die.'  "  But  when  they  came  to  view  things  on 
a  more  enlarged  scale,  considering  it  as  an  expedient 
on  an  extraordinary  occasion,  and  perceived  that  the 
spirit  of  the  law  would  be  preserved,  and  all  the  ends 
of  good  government  answered,  they  were  satisfied. 
"It  is  not  a  measure,"  said  they,  "  for  which  the 
law  provides ;  yet  it  is  not  contrary  t<  the  lav/^  but 
above  it." 


The  day  appointed  arrived.  The  prince  appeared, 
and  suffered  as  a  criminal.  The  hearts  of  the  king's 
friends  bled  at  every  stroke,  and  burned  with  indig- 
nation against  the  conduct  which  rendered  it  neces- 
sary. His  enemies,  however,  even  some  of  those  lor 
whom  he  suffered,  continuing  to  be  disaffected,  ac'led 
to  the  affliction  by  deriding  and  insulting  him  alj  the 
time.  At  a  proper  period,  he  was  rescued  from  ',neir 
outrage.  Returning  to  the  palace,  amidst  the  tears 
and  shouts  of  the  loyal  spectatf^rs,  the  suffering  hero 
was  embraced  by  his  royal  father  ;  who,  in  addition 
to  the  natural  affection  which  he  bore  to  him  as  a 
son,  loved  him  for  his  singular  interposition  at  such 
a  crisis:  "Sit  thou,"  said  he,  "at  my  right  hand  I 
Though  the  thrcatenings  of  the  law  be  not  literally 
accomplished,  yet  the  spirit  of  them  is  preserved. 
The  honour  of  good  government  is  secured,  and  the 
end  of  punishment  more  effectually  answered  than 
if  all  the  rebels  had  been  sacrificed.  Ask  of  me 
what  I  shall  give  thee  !  No  favour  can  be  too  great 
to  be  bestowed,  even  upon  the  unworthiest,  nor  any 
crime  too  aggravated  to  be  forgiven,  in  thy  name. 
I  will  grant  thee  according  to  thine  own  heart  !  Ask 
of  me,  my  f- m,  what  shall  I  give  thee?" 

He  asked  for  the  offenders  to  be  introduced  as 
supplicants  ai  the  feet  of  his  father,  for  the  forgive- 
ness of  their  crimes,  and  for  the  direction  of  affairs 
till  order  and  happiness  should  be  perfectly  restored. 

A  proclamation  addressed  to  the  conspirators  was 
now  issued,  stating  what  had  been  their  conduct, 
what  the  conduct  of  the  king,  and  what  of  the  prince. 
Messengers  also  were  appointed  to  carry  it,  with 
orders  to  read  it  publicly,  and  to  expostulate  with 
them  individually,  beseeching  them  to  be  reconciled 
to  their  offended  sovereign,  and  to  assure  them  that, 
if  they  rejected  this,  there  remained  no  more  hope  of 
mercy. 

A  spectator  would  suppose  that  in  mercy  so  freely 
offered,  and  so  honourably  communicated,  every  one 
would  have  acquiesced  ;  and  if  reason  had  governed 
the  offenders,  it  had  been  so  :  but  many  among  them 
continued  under  the  influence  of  disaffection,  and 
disaffection  gives  a  false  colouring  to  everything. 
The  time  of  the  respite  having  proved  longer  than 
was  at  first  expected,  some  had  begun  to  amuse  them- 
selves with  idle  speculations,  flattering  themselves 
that  their  fault  was  a  mere  trifle,  and  that  it  certainly 
would  be  passed  over.  Indeed,  the  greater  part  of 
them  had  turned  their  attention  to  other  things,  con- 
cluding that  the  king  was  not  in  good  earnest. 

When  the  proclamation  was  read,  many  paid  no 
manner  of  attention  to  it  ;  some  insinuated  that  the 
messengers  were  interested  men,  and  that  there  might 
be  no  truth  in  what  they  said  ;  and  some  even  abused 
them  as  impostors.  So,  having  delivered  their  mes- 
sage, they  withdrew  ;  and  the  rebels,  finding  them- 
selves alone,  such  of  them  as  paid  any  attention  to 
the  subject  expressed  their  mind  as  follows  : — 

"My  heart,"  says  one,  "rises  against  every  part 
of  this  proceeding.  Why  all  this  ado  about  a  few 
words  spoken  one  to  another  ?  Can  such  a  message 
as  this  have  proceeded  from  the  king  ?  What  have 
we  done  so  much  against  him  that  so  much  should 
be  made  of  it  ?  No  petition  of  ours,  it  seems,  would 
avail  anything  ;  and  nothing  that  we  could  say  or  do 
could  be  regarded,  unless  presented  in  the  name  of 
a  third  person.  Surely  if  we  presented  a  petition  in 
our  own  names,  in  which  we  beg  pardon,  and  pro- 
mise not  to  repeat  the  ofi'ence,  this  might  suffice. 
Even  this  is  more  than  I  can  find  in  my  heart  to 
comjjly  with  ;  but  everything  beyond  it  is  unreason- 


ATONEMENT, 


(    59    ) 


ATONEMENT. 


able  ;  and  who  can  believe  that  the  king  can  desire 

it/" 

"  If  a  third  person,"  says  another,  "must  be  con- 
cerned in  the  affair,  what  occasion  is  there  for  one  so 
high  in  rank  and  dignity?  To  stand  in  need  of  such 
a  mediator  must  stamp  our  characters  with  everlast- 
ing infamy.  It  is  very  unreasonable  :  who  can  be- 
lu\e  ii  ?  If  tlie  king  be  just  and  good,  as  they  say 
he  is,  iiow  can  he  wish  thus  pubHcly  to  expose  us?" 

"I  observe,"  says  a  third,  "that  the  mediator  is 
wholly  on  the  king's  side;  and  one  whom,  though 
he  affects  to  pity  us,  we  have,  from  the  outset,  con- 
sidered as  no  less  our  enemy  than  the  king  himself. 
If,  indeed,  he  could  compromise  matters,  and  would 
allow  that  we  had  our  provocations,  and  would  pro- 
mise us  redress,  and  an  easier  yoke  in  future.  I  should 
feel  inclined  to  hearken ;  but  if  he  liave  no  conces- 
sions to  offer,  I  can  never  be  reconciled." 

"  I  believe,"  says  a  fourth,  "  that  the  king  knows 
very  well  that  we  have  not  had  justice  done  us,  and 
therefore  this  mediation  business  is  introduced  to 
make  us  amends  for  the  injury.  It  is  an  affair  settled 
somehow  betwixt  him  and  his  son.  They  call  it 
grace,  and  I  am  not  much  concerned  what  they  call 
it,  so  that  my  life  is  spared  ;  but  this  I  say,  if  he 
had  not  made  this  or  some  kind  of  provision,  I 
should  have  thouglit  him  a  tyrant." 

"You  are  all  wrong,"  says  a  fifth  :  "I  Cvjmpre- 
hend  the  design,  and  am  well  pleased  with  it.  I 
hate  the  government  as  much  as  any  of  you  ;  but  1 
love  the  mediator  ;  for  I  understand  it  is  his  inten- 
tion to  deliver  me  from  its  tyranny.  He  has  paid 
the  debt,  the  king  is  satisfied,  and  I  am  free.  I  will 
sue  out  for  my  right,  and  demand  my  liberty  !  " 

In  addition  to  this,  one  of  the  company  observed, 
he  did  not  see  what  the  greater  part  of  them  had  to 
do  with  the  proclamation,  unless  it  were  to  give  it  a 
hearing,  which  they  had  done  already.  "  For,"  said 
he,  "pardon  is  promised  only  to  them  who  are  will- 
ing to  submit,  and  it  is  well  known  that  many  of  us 
are  unwilling ;  nor  can  we  alter  our  minds  on  this 
subject." 

After  a  while,  however,  some  of  them  were  brought 
to  relent.  They  thought  upon  the  subject-matter  of 
the  proclamation,  were  convinced  of  the  justice  of  its 
statements,  reflected  upon  their  evil  conduct,  and 
were  sincerely  sorry  on  account  of  it.  And  now  the 
mediation  of  the  prince  appeared  in  a  very  different 
light.  They  cordially  said  amen  to  every  part  of 
the  proceeding.  The  vei7  things  which  gave  such 
offence,  while  their  hearts  were  disaffected,  now  ap- 
peared to  them  fit,  and  right,  and  glorious.  "  It  is 
fit,"  said  they,  "that  the  king  should  be  honoured, 
and  that  we  should  be  humbled  ;  for  we  have  trans- 
gressed without  cause.  It  is  right  that  no  regard 
should  be  paid  to  any  petition  of  ours,  for  its  own 
sake  ;  for  we  have  done  deeds  worthy  of  death.  It 
is  glorious  that  we  should  be  saved  at  the  interces- 
sion of  so  honourable  a  personage.  The  dignity  of 
his  character,  together  with  his  surprising  conde- 
scension and  goodness,  impress  us  more  than  any- 
thing else,  and  fill  our  hearts  with  penitence,  confi- 
dence, and  love.  That  which  in  the  proclamation 
is  called  grace  is  grace  ;  for  we  are  utterly  unworthy 
of  it ;  and  if  we  had  all  suffcr^sd  according  to  our 
sentence,  the  king  and  his  throne  had  been  guiltless. 
We  embrace  the  mediation  of  the  prince,  not  as  a 
reparation  for  an  injury,  but  as  a  singular  instance 
of  mercy.  Ae;1  far  be  it  from  us  that  we  .ihould 
consiclei  it  as  designed  to  deliver  us  from  ourcigina) 
und  jus*  allegiance  to  his  majesty's  governmen   ;    No, 


rather,  it  is  intended  to  restore  us  to  it.  We  love  our 
intercessor,  and  will  implore  forgiveness  in  his  name; 
but  we  also  love  our  sovereign,  and  long  to  prostrate 
ourselves  at  his  feet.  We  rejoice  in  the  satisfaction 
which  the  prince  has  made,  and  all  our  hopes  of 
mercy  are  foimdcd  upon  it  ;  but  we  have  no  notion 
of  being  freed  by  it  previously  to  our  acquiescence 
in  it.  Nor  do  we  desire  any  other  kind  of  freedom 
than  that  which,  while  it  remits  the  just  sentence  of 
the  law,  restores  us  to  his  majesty's  government. 
Oh,  that  we  were  once  clear  of  this  hateful  and  hor- 
rid conspiracy,  and  might  be  permitted  to  serve  him 
with  affection  and  fidelity  all  the  days  of  our  life  ! 
We  cannot  suspect  the  sincerity  of  the  invitation,  or 
acquit  our  companions  on  the  score  of  unwillingness. 
Why  should  we  ?  We  do  not  on  this  account  acquit 
ourselves.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  the  remembrance 
of  our  unwillingness  that  now  cuts  us  to  the  heart. 
We  well  remember  to  what  it  was  owing  that  we 
could  not  be  satisfied  with  the  just  government  of  the 
king,  and  afterwards  could  not  comply  with  the  in- 
vitations of  mercy  :  it  was  because  we  were  under 
the  dominion  of  a  disaffected  spirit — a  spirit  which, 
wicked  as  it  is  in  itself,  it  would  be  move  wicked  to 
justify.  Our  counsel  is,  therefore,  the  same  as  that 
of  his  majesty's  messengers,  with  whom  we  now  take 
our  stand.  Let  us  lay  aside  this  cavilling  humour, 
repent,  and  sue  for  mercy  in  the  way  prescribed,  ere 
mercy  be  hid  from  our  eyes  !  " 

The  reader,  in  applying  this  supposed  i  jsc  to  the 
mediation  of  Christ,  will  do  me  the  justice  to  re- 
member that  I  do  not  pretend  to  have  perfectly  re- 
presented it.  Probably  there  is  no  simriitude  fully 
adequate  to  the  purpose.  The  distinction  between 
the  Father  and  the  Son  is  not  the  same  as  that  which 
subsists  between  a  father  and  a  son  among  men  ;  the 
latter  are  two  separate  beings  ;  but  to  assert  this  of 
the  former  would  be  inconsistent  with  the  Divine 
unity.  Nor  can  anything  be  found  analogous  to  the 
doctrine  of  Divine  influence,  by  which  the  redemp- 
tion of  Christ  is  carried  into  effect.  And  with  respect 
to  the  innocent  voluntarily  suffering  for  the  g"ailty, 
in  a  few  extraordinary  instances  this  principle  may 
be  adopted  ;  but  the  management  and  the  applica- 
tion of  it  generally  require  more  wisdom  and  more 
power  than  mortals  possess.  We  may,  by  the  help 
of  a  machine,  collect  a  few  sparks  of  the  electrical 
fluid,  and  produce  an  effect  somewhat  resembling 
that  of  lightning  ;  but  we  cannot  cause  it  to  blaze 
like  the  Almighty,  nor  thunder  with  a  voice  like 
Ilim.  — Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815. 

III.    ITS  SUFFICIENCY. 

(377.)  When  the  I-ord  Jesus  Christ  offered  up 
Himself  a  sacrifice  unto  God  the  Father,  and  had 
our  sins  laid  upon  Ilirn,  He  did  give  more  perfect 
satisfaction  unto  Divine  justice  for  our  sins  than  if 
you,  and  I,  and  all  of  us  had  been  damned  in  hell 
unto  all  eternity.  For  a  crerlilor  is  more  satisfied  if 
his  debt  be  paid  him  all  down  at  once,  than  if  it 
be  paid  by  the  week  :  a  poor  man  that  cannot  pay  all 
down,  will  pay  a  groat  a  week,  or  sixpence  a  week  ; 
but  it  is  more  satisfaction  to  the  creditor  to  have  all 
paid  at  once.  Should  we  have  been  all  damned,  we 
should  have  been  but  paying  the  debt  a  little,  and  a 
litle,  and  a  little  ;  but  when  Christ  paid  it,  He  paid 
it  all  down  to  God  the  Father.  Had  we  gone  ta 
hel!  and  been  damned  for  ever,  we  had  always  been 
satisfying  of  God  ;  aye,  but  God  had  never  been 
sa'ished  :  but  now  when  Christ  makes  satisfaction. 


ATONEMENT, 


(    60    ) 


ATONEMENT. 


God  is  satisfied.  The  creditor,  if  he  be  a  merciful 
and  a  good  man,  is  more  truly  satisfied  where  the 
debtor  is  spared  ;  he  does  not  desire  that  the  debtor 
should  be  cast  into  prison,  and  there  lie  and  rot ; 
but  he  is  bettei  satisfied  with  the  sparing  of  the 
debtor ;  let  me  have  but  my  money,  and  so  the 
debtor  be  spared,  I  am  willing,  nay,  I  desire  it, 
says  the  good  creditor.  Now,  if  all  we  had  been 
cast  into  everlasting  burnings,  indeed,  the  debt 
should  have  been  a-paying,  but  there  the  debtor  had 
been  lost  :  but  now  when  Christ  comes  and  makes 
satisfaction  unto  Divine  justice,  ah  !  poor  man  is 
redeemed  ;  here  is  the  debtor  spared.  And,  there- 
fore, the  Lord  He  is  infinitely  more  satisfied  by  the 
satisfaction  that  Christ  made  upon  the  cross  for  our 
sins,  than  if  we  had  gone  to  hell  and  been  damned 
to  all  eternity.  Oh,  what  a  glorious  and  blessed 
satisfaction  did  this  our  High  Priest  make  unto  God 
the  Father  1  —BriW^e,  1600-1670. 

(378.)  When  the  sins  of  believers  were  laid  on 
Him,  then  He  did  make  full  satisfaction  unto  God 
the  Father  and  Divine  justice  for  all  our  sins. 
This  is  a  bottom  of  much  comfort.  For  if  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  our  Surety,  had  not  satisfied  to  the 
utmost  farthing  our  great  Creditor,  God  the  Father, 
foi  all  our  debts,  God  the  Father  might  come  upon 
us,  the  debtors.  But  our  Surety,  the  Lord  Christ, 
hath  given  full  satisfaction  unto  God  the  Father, 
that  no  more  demands  can  be  made  upon  us.  And, 
indeed,  else  how  could  our  Surety  ever  have  come 
out  of  prison  :  He  was  under  arrest,  He  was  in  the 
jail,  in  the  gravfe ;  the  Father,  the  great  Creditor 
let  Him  out  ;  and  did  not  only  let  Him  out,  but 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  He  goes  into  heaven,  and 
sits  down  there  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father  ; 
surely,  if  the  Creditor  had  not  been  satisfied,  the 
Surety  should  never  have  been  released  out  of 
prison.  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(379.)  If  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  hath  satisfied 
Divine  justice  as  our  great  High  Priest,  then  I  may 
come  with  boldness  unto  the  throne  of  grace.  A 
debtor,  so  long  as  his  debt  is  unpaid,  he  dare  no'^ 
come  by  the  prison  door ;  he  is  afraid  of  every 
sergeant,  he  is  afraid  of  his  friends  that  they  should 
be  sergeants :  but  when  his  debt  is  paid,  then  he 
dare  go  up  and  down  with  boldness.  And  so  the 
poor  soul,  when  he  kuows  that  his  debt  is  paid,  and 
Christ  hath  satisfied,  t  len  he  may  go  with  boldness 
unto  the  throne  of  grar«. 

But  you  will  say,  "  I  cannot  have  the  comfort  of 
this,  because  I  cannot  st-y  that  Christ  hath  satisfied 
for  me  :  how  shall  I  know  that  Jesus  Christ  is  my 
High  Priest,  so  as  to  have  satisfied  for  me  ?  Ah,  if 
I  did  but  know  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  were  my 
High  Priest  in  this  particular,  so  as  to  have  satisfied 
for  me,  then  should  I  have  comfort  indeed  :  how 
shall  I  discover  that  ?  1  am  afraid  He  hath  not 
satisfied  for  me  !  " 

And  why  not  for  thee  ?  I  shall  tell  yon  what  I 
have  heard  concerning  a  young  man  that  lay  upon 
his  death-bed,  and  went  to  heaven  :  while  he  was 
lying  upon  his  death-bed,  he  comforted  himself 
in  this :  That  the  Lord  Jesus  died  for  sinners. 
"Oh!  blessed  be  the  Lord!"  says  he,  "Jesus 
Christ  hath  died  for  me  I  "  Satan  came  in  with  this 
temptation  to  him  :  "  Aye,  but,  young  man,  why 
for  thee  ?  Christ  died  for  sinners,  but  why  for 
thee  ?  how  can'st  thou  make  that  appear,  that 
Christ  died  for   thee?"      "Nay,   Satan,"  says  he, 


"and  why  not  for  me?  Ah!  the  Lord  Jesus,  He 
died  for  sinners,  and  therefore,  Satan,  why  not  for 
me  ? "  So  he  held  his  comfort,  and  went  up  to 
heaven  triumphing. 

So  say  I  to  thee,  poor  drooping  soul  that  labours 
under  temptation;  why  not  for  thee?  and  say  so 
unto  Satan,  why  not  for  me  ? 

— Endgty  1 600- 1 6  70. 

(380.)  But  you  will  say  then,  if  the  Lord  (  hrist 
made  this  full  satisfaction  unto  God  the  Fither,  how 
is  it  that  believers,  fnany  of  them  have  their  con- 
sciences so  perplexed  in  regard  of  sin,  as  if  there 
were  no  satisfaction  at  all  made  ?  The  reason  is, 
because  that  men  do  not  study  this  truth,  but  are 
ignorant  of  it.  As,  suppose  that  a  man  do  owe 
three  or  four  hundred  pounds  to  a  shopkeeper  for 
wares  that  he  hath  taken  up  there  :  a  friend  comes, 
pays  the  debt,  and  crosses  the  book  :  but  the  debtor 
when  he  comes  and  looks  upon  the  book  is  able  to 
read  all  the  particulars  ;  and  not  being  acquainted 
with  the  nature  of  crossing  the  book,  he  is  able  to 
read  all  the  particulars,  and  he  charges  it  still  upon 
himself,  because  he  does  not  understand  the  nature 
of  this  crossing  the  book,  and  he  is  as  much  troubled 
how  he  shall  pay  the  debt,  as  if  it  were  not  paid 
at  all.  So  now  it  is  here  :  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
hath  come  and  crossed  our  book  with  His  own 
blood  ;  the  sins  are  to  be  read  in  your  own  con- 
sciences, but  we,  being  not  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  Christ's  satisfaction,  we  charge  ourselves, 
as  if  no  sin  at  all  were  satisfied  for  us. 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

{381.)  The  extent  of  the  atonement  is  frequently 
represented,  as  if  a  calculation  had  been  made,  how 
much  suffering  v/as  necessary  for  the  Surety  to  en- 
dure, in  order  exactly  to  expiate  the  aggregate  num- 
ber of  all  the  sins  of  all  the  elect ;  that  so  much  He 
suffered  precisely,  and  no  more  ;  and  that  when  this 
requisition  was  completely  answered.  He  said,  "  It 
is  finisher?,  bowed  His  head,  and  gave  up  the  ghost  " 
(John  xlx.  30).  But  this  nicety  of  computation  does 
not  seem  analogous  to  that  unbounded  magnificence 
and  grandeur  which  overwhelm  the  attentive  mind 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  Divine  conduct  in  the 
natural  world.  When  God  waters  the  earth,  He 
waters  it  abundantly  (Psal.  Ixv.  10) ;  He  does  not 
restrain  the  rain  to  cultivated  or  improvable  spots, 
but  with  a  profusion  of  bounty  worthy  of  Himself 
His  clouds  pour  down  water  with  equal  abundance 
upon  the  barren  mountain,  the  lonely  desert,  and 
the  pathless  ocean.  Why  may  we  not  say  with  the 
Scriptures,  that  Christ  died  to  declare  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  (Rom.  iii.  25,  26),  to  manifest  that  He 
is  just  in  justifying  the  ungodly  who  believe  in  Jesus? 
And  for  anything  we  know  to  the  contrary,  the  very 
same  display  of  the  evil  and  demerit  of  sin,  by  the 
Redeemer's  agonies  and  death,  might  have  been 
equally  necessary,  though  the  number  of  the  elect 
were  much  smaller  than  it  will  appear  to  be  when 
they  shall  all  meet  before  the  throne  of  glory.  If 
God  had  formed  this  earth  for  the  residence  of  one 
man  only  ;  had  it  been  His  pleasure  to  afford  him  the 
same  kind  and  degree  of  light  which  we  enjoy,  the 
same  glorious  sun,  which  is  now  sufficient  to  en- 
lighten and  comfort  the  millions  of  mankind,  would 
have  been  necessary  for  the  accommodation  of  that 
one  person.  So,  perhaps,  had  it  been  His  plear.ure 
to  save  but  one  sinner,  in  a  way  that  should  give  the 
highest  possible  discovery  of  His  justice  and  of  Hii 
mercy,  this  could  have  been  done  by  no  other  metl'od 


ATONEMENT. 


(    6i     ) 


A  TONEMENT. 


than  that  which  He  has  chosen  for  the  salvation  of 
the  innumerable  multitudes  who  will  in  the  great  day 
unite  in  the  song  of  praise  to  the  Lamb  who  loved 
them,  and  washed  them  from  their  sins  in  His  own 
blood.  — Newton,  1725-1807. 

IV.    FROM  WHA  T  IT  HAS  REDEEMED  US. 

(382.)  Redf  mption  being  deliverance  by  means  of 
the  substituti  n  of  a  ransom,  it  follows  that,  although 
the  ransom  can  only  be  paid  to  God,  and  to  Him 
only  as  the  Moral  Governor  of  the  universe,  we  may 
still  be  said  to  be  redeemed  from  all  that  we  are  de- 
livered from  by  means  of  the  ransom  paid  in  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ.  Thus  we  are  said  to  be  redeemed 
"from  our  vain  conversation"  (l  Pet.  i.  18),  "from 
death"  (Hosea  xii.  14),  "from  the  devil"  (Col.  ii. 
15  ;  Heb.  ii.  14),  "from  all  iniquity"  {Titus  ii.  14), 
and  "  from  the  curse  of  the  law  "  (Gal.  iii.  13  ;  iv. 
5),  while  it  is,  of  course,  not  meant  that  the  ransom 
is  paid  to  the  devil,  or  to  sin,  or  to  death,  or  to  the 
law.  It  is  simply  absurd  to  claim  that  these  differ- 
ent representations  are  inconsistent.  A  captive  is 
redeemed  b^  a  price  paid  only  to  him  that  holds  him 
in  bondage,  but  by  the  same  act  may  be  redeemed 
from  labour,  from  disease,  from  death,  from  the  per- 
secution of  his  fellow-captives,  and  from  a  slavish 
disposition.  — Uodge. 

V.    A  CAUTION  CONCERNING  A   FAMILIAR 

COMPARISON. 

(383.)  Many  important  mistakes  have  arisen  from 
considering  the  interposition  of  Christ  under  the 
motion  oi paying  a  debt.  The  blood  of  Christ  is  in- 
deed the  price  of  our  redemption,  or  that  for  the  sake 
of  which  we  are  delivered  from  the  curse  of  the  law  ; 
but  this  metaphorical  language,  as  well  as  that  of 
head  and  members,  may  be  carried  too  far,  and  may 
lead  us  into  many  errors.  In  cases  of  debt  and  credit 
among  men,  where  a  surety  undertakes  to  represent 
the  debtor,  from  the  moment  his  undertaking  is  ac- 
cepted the  debtor  is  free,  and  may  claim  his  liberty, 
not  as  a  matter  of  favour,  at  least  on  the  part  of  the 
creditor,  but  of  strict  justice.  Or  should  the  under- 
taking be  unknown  to  him  for  a  time,  yet  as  soon  as 
he  knows  it  he  may  demand  his  discharge,  and,  it 
may  be,  think  himself  hardly  treated  by  being  kept 
in  bondage  so  long  after  his  debt  had  been  actually 
paid.  But  who  in  their  sober  senses  will  imagine 
this  to  be  analogous  to  the  redemption  of  sinners  by 
Jesus  Christ  ?  Sin  is  a  debt  only  in  a  metaphorical 
sense  ;  properly  speaking  it  is  a  crime,  and  satisfac- 
tion for  it  requires  to  be  made,  not  on  pecuniary, 
but  on  moral  principles.  If  Piiiiemon  had  accepted 
of  that  part  of  Paul  s  offer  which  respected  property, 
and  had  placed  so  much  to  his  account  as  he  con- 
sidered Onesimus  to  have  "owed"  him,  he  could 
not  have  been  said  to  have  remitted  his  debt  ;  nor 
would  Onesimus  have  had  to  thank  him  for  remitting 
it.  But  it  is  supposed  of  Onesimus  that  he  might 
not  only  be  in  debt  to  his  master,  but  have 
"  wronged  "  him. 

Perhaps  he  had  embezzled  his  goods,  corrupted 
his  children,  or  injured  his  character.  Now,  for 
Philemon  to  accept  of  that  part  of  the  offer  were 
very  different  from  the  other.  In  the  one  case  he 
would  have  accepted  of  a  pecuniary  representative, 
in  the  other  of  a  moral  one,  that  is,  of  a  mediator. 
The  satisfaction  in  the  one  case  would  annihilate  the 
idea  of  remission  ;  but  not  of  the  other.     Whatever 


satisfaction  Paul  might  give  to  Philemon  respecting 
the  wound  inflicted  upon  his  character  and  honoui 
as  the  head  of  a  family,  it  would  not  supersede  the 
necessity  of  pardon  being  sought  by  the  offender, 
and  freely  bestowed  by  the  offended. 

The  reason  for  this  difference  is  easily  perceived. 
Debts  are  transferable,  but  crimes  are  not.  A  third 
person  may  cancel  the  one,  but  he  can  only  obliterate 
the  effects  of  the  other  ;  the  desiit  of  the  criminal  re- 
mains. The  debtor  is  accountable  to  his  creditor  as 
a  private  individual,  who  has  power  to  accept  of  a 
surety,  or,  if  he  please,  to  remit  the  whole  without 
any  satisfaction.  In  the  one  case  he  would  be  just, 
in  the  other  merciful  ;  but  no  place  is  afforded  by 
either  of  them  for  the  combination  of  justice  and 
mercy  in  the  same  proceeding.  The  criminal  on  the 
one  hand,  is  amenable  to  the  magistrate,  or  to  the 
h-jid  of  a  family,  as  a  public  person,  and  who,  espe- 
cially if  the  offence  be  capital,  cannot  remit  the 
punishment  without  invading  law  and  justice,  nor, 
in  the  ordinary  discharge  of  his  office,  admit  of  a 
third  person  to  stand  in  his  place.  In  extraordinar)' 
cases,  however,  extraordinary  expedients  are  resorted 
to.  A  satisfaction  may  be  made  Co  law  and  justice, 
as  to  the  spirit  of  them,  while  the  letter  is  dispensed 
with.  The  well-known  story  of  Zaleucus,  tlie  Gre- 
cian lawgiver,  who  consented  to  lose  one  of  his  eyes 
to  spare  one  of  his  son's  eyes,  who,  by  transgressing 
the  law,  subjected  himself  to  the  loss  of  both,  is  aa 
example.  Here,  as  far  as  it  'wzviK,  justice  and  mercy 
were  cotnhined  in  the  same  act  ;  and  had  the  satisfac- 
tion been  much  fuller  than  it  was,  so  full  that  ths 
authority  of  the  law  instead  of  being  weakened 
should  have  been  abundantly  magnified  and  hon- 
oured, still  it  had  been  perfectly  consistent  with  ft  n 
forgiveness. 

Finally,  in  the  case  of  the  debtor,  satisfaction 
being  once  accepted,  justice  requires  his  complete 
discharge  ;  but  in  that  of  the  criminal,  where  satis- 
faction is  made  to  the  wounded  honour  of  the  liiW 
and  the  authority  of  the  lawgiver,  justice,  though  \\ 
admits  of  his  discharge,  yet  no  otherwise  requires  i/ 
than  as  it  may  have  been  matter  of  promise  to  tht 
substitute. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  cases  of  this  sort  afford 
a  competent  representation  of  redemption  by  Christ. 
That  is  a  work  which  not  only  ranks  with  extra- 
ordinary interpositions,  but  which  has  no  parallel  \ 
it  is  a  work  of  God,  which  leaves  all  the  petty  con- 
cerns of  mortals  infinitely  behind  it.  All  th&t  com- 
parisons can  do  is  to  give  us  some  idea  of  ihe/rm- 
ciple  on  which  it  proceeds. 

— Andrew  Fuller,  1754- 18 15. 

VI.    WAS  MADE  FOR  ALL   MEN. 

(384.)  As  the  sun  is  the  general  gi\er  of  light  to 
the  whole  world,  although  there  be  many  who  do 
receive  no  light  at  all  of  it ;  or  as  there  was  among 
the  Jews,  upon  the  year  of  jubilee,  a  general  del'very 
of  all  bondmen,  although  many  abode  stiil  in  their 
bondage  and  refused  the  grace  of  their  delivery  : 
even  so  the  redemption  of  mankind  by  Christ  is 
available  for  all,  although  reprobate  and  wicked 
men,  for  want  of  the  grace  of  God,  do  not  receive 
the  same ;  yet  there  is  no  reason  that  it  should  lose 
its  title  and  glory  of  universal  redemption  because 
of  the  children  of  perdition,  seeing  that  it  is  ready 
for  all  men  and  all  be  called  unto  it. 

—Cawdray,  1598-1664. 

{385.)  The  holy  fathers  do,  by  several  like  similt 


A  TONEMENT. 


(    62    ) 


A  TONEMENT. 


tudes,  endeavour  to  illustrate  this  matter,  and  some- 
what to  assoil  the  difficulty  {i.e.,  that,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  all  men  are  not  saved).  They  compare  our 
Saviour  to  the  sun,  who  shines  indifferently  to  all 
the  world,  although  there  be  some  private  corners 
and  secret  caves,  to  which  his  light  doth  not  come  ; 
although  some  shut  their  windows  or  their  eyes,  and 
exclude  it  ;  although  some  are  blind,  and  do  not  see 
iit.  That  mystical  Sun  of  Righteousness  (saith  St. 
Ambrose)  is  risen  to  all,  come  to  all,  did  suffer  and 
rise  again  for  all — but  if  any  one  doth  not  believe  in 
Christ,  he  defrauds  himself  of  the  general  benefit. 
As  if  one  shutting  the  windows  should  exclude  the 
beams  of  the  sun,  the  sun  is  not  therefore  not  risen 
to  all.  They  compare  our  Lord  to  a  .physician,  who 
professes  to  relieve  and  cure  all  that  shall  have  re- 
course to  His  help  ;  but  doth  cure  only  those  who 
seek  for  remedy,  and  are  willing  to  take  the  medi- 
cine ;  because  all  (saith  St.  Ambrose  again)  do  not 
•desire  cure,  but  most  do  shun  it,  lest  the  ulcer  should 
smart  by  medicaments  ;  \.\\e.x&[oxtvolnites  curat,  non 
Msfnugil  invites  ;  He  cures  only  the  willing,  doth  not 
compel  those  that  are  unwilling  ;  they  only  receive 
health,  who  desire  medicine.  Evangelical  grace, 
say  they,  is  like  a  fountain  standing  openly,  to  which 
all  men  have  free  access  ;  at  which  all  men  may 
quench  their  thirst,  if  they  will  inquire  after  it,  and 
go  thereto.  "  The  fountain  of  life,"  saith  Arnobius, 
"is  open  to  all  ;  nor  is  any  man  hindered  or  driven 
from  the  right  of  drinking  it."  The  covenant  of 
grace  is,  say  they,  a  door  standing  open  to  all, 
whereinto  all  have  liberty  to  enter.  "  When  an 
entrance,"  saith  St.  Chrysostom,  "being  open  to 
all,  and  there  being  nothing  that  hinders,  some 
being  wilfully  naught  abide  without,  they  have  no 
other  but  their  own  wickedness  to  impute  their  de- 
struction unto." 

And  again  he  puts  the  question,  '*  If  Christ  en- 
lighteneth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world, 
how  is  that  so  many  remain  unenlightened  ?"  &c. 
To  which  he  answers,  that  "  If  some  wilfully  shut- 
ting the  eyes  of  their  minds  will  not  receive  the 
beams  of  this  light,  it  is  not  from  the  nature  of 
light  that  those  remain  still  in  darkness,  but  from 
the  wickedness  of  those  who  wilfully  deprive  them- 
selves of  the  gift  of  it,"  &c. 

— Barrmv,  1630-1677. 

(386.)  Suppose  a  great  kingdom,  consisting  of 
several  provinces,  should  have  revolted  from  their 
sovereign;  disclaiming  his  authority,  neglecting  and 
disobeying  his  laws  ;  that  the  good  prince,  out  of 
his  goodness  and  piety  toward  them  (and  upon  other 
good  considerations  moving  him  thereto,  suppose 
the  mediation  of  his  own  son),  instead  of  prosecut- 
ing them  with  deserved  vengeance,  should  grant  a 
general  pardon  and  amnesty,  in  these  terms,  that 
whoever  of  those  rebels  willingly  should  come  in, 
acknowledge  his  fault,  and  promise  future  loyalty, 
or  obedience  to  his  laws  declared  to  them,  should 
be  received  into  favour,  have  impunity,  enjoy  pro- 
tection, and  obtain  rewards  from  him.  Further,  for 
the  effectuating  of  this  gracious  intent,  suppose  that 
he  should  appoint  and  commissionate  messengers, 
empowering  and  charging  them  to  divulge  the 
purpnrt  of  this  act  of  grace  to  all  the  people  of  that 
kingdom.  Admit  now,  that  these  messengers  should 
go  forth  and  seat  themselves  only  in  some  provinces  of 
that  kingdom,  proclaiming  this  universal  pardon  (uni- 
versal as  to  the  design,  and  as  to  the  tenor  tlipreofl, 
only  in  those,  n«gl»  'ting  others ;  or  that,  striving  to 


propagate  it  farther,  they  should  be  rejected  and 
repelled  ;  or  ihat  from  any  the  like  cause  the  know- 
ledge thereof  should  not  reach  to  some  provinces ; 
it  is  plain,  that  indeed  the  effect  of  that  pardon 
would  be  obstructed  by  such  a  carriage  of  the  affair ; 
but  the  tenor  of  that  act  would  not  thereby  be 
altered  ;  nor  would  the  failure  in  execution  (conse- 
quent upon  the  ministers'  or  the  people  s  misbe- 
haviour) detract  from  the  real  amplitude  of  the 
prince's  intent ;  no  more  than  the  wilful  incredulity, 
refusal,  or  non-compliance  of  some  persons,  where 
the  business  is  promulgated  and  notified,  would  pre- 
judice the  same.  It  is  plain  the  prince  meant 
favourably  toward  all,  and  provided  carefully  for 
them  ;  although  by  accident  (not  imputable  to  him) 
the  designed  favours  and  benefits  do  not  reach  all. 
The  case  so  ])lainly  suits  our  purpose,  that  I  need 
not  make  any  application.     — Barraiu,  1630-1677. 

VII.  THE  SPIRIT  IN  WHICH  THE  DECLARA- 
TIONS OF  SCRIPTURE  CONCERNING  IT  ARS 
TO  BE  STUDIED. 

(387.)  It  is  necessary  to  know  what  God  hath 
revealed  concerning  the  way  of  pardon  by  Christ  : 
it  is  impossible  to  know  more  than  He  has  revealed. 
If  men  would  forbear  to  explicate  further,  there 
would  be  more  Christianity  and  less  controversy. 

—  Whichcote. 

(388.)  In  studying  a'l  Divine  truths,  but  specially 
a  truth  like  this  (which  involves  the  nature  of  God, 
His  mysterious  dealings,  and  the  relations  which  it 
has  pleased  Him  to  establish  between  Himself  and 
man — topics  the  most  arduous  in  the  whole  range  of 
theology),  we  must  be  careful  to  accept  with  the 
utmost  simplicity  the  intimations  of  holy  Scripture. 
It  would  be  presumptuous  to  go  into  such  a  subject 
at  all,  except  so  far  as  those  intimations  lead  us  by 
the  hand.  In  every  such  investigation,  it  should  be 
present  to  our  minds  from  first  to  last,  that  in  esti- 
mating the  ways  of  God,  we  are  like  little  children 
estimating  the  ways  of  matured  and  sage  men, — 
men  enriched  with  all  the  fruits  of  a  long  experience 
and  an  extensive  observation.  The  unitarian  pro- 
fesses an  inability  to  receive  the  doctrine  of  the 
atonement,  as  it  is  held  by  Christians,  on  the  ground 
that  it  contlicts  with  his  natural  instincts.  His  sense 
of  justice,  he  tells  us,  revolts  from  the  notion  of  an 
innocent  victim  bearing  the  sins  of  a  guilty  world  : 
to  represent  God  as  requiring  such  a  sacrifice,  in 
order  to  the  expiation  of  human  guilt,  is  to  paint 
Him  as  a  ruthless  and  relentless  tyrant,  determined 
to  have  His  blow  and  to  gratify  His  revenge  some- 
where, even  should  it  fall  upon  the  unoffending. 
That  this  view  of  what  the  Scripture  says  upon  the 
subject  is  not  simply  exaggerated,  but  falsified,  we 
shall  presently  see. 

What  I  am  now  concerned  to  remark  is,  that  our 
natural  instincts,  and  even  our  so-called  moral  sense, 
are  no  safe  guide  upon  a  subject  which  S(3ars  so  in- 
finitely above  our  limited  capacity.  We  are  chil- 
dren ;  and  in  considering  the  means  by  which  our 
Heavenly  Father  will  save  us,  it  is  wisdom  to  accept 
simply  His  own  instructions,  desperate  folly  and 
presumption  to  criticise  those  instructions  by  our 
childish  notions  and  puerile  instincts.  My  meaning 
will  be  more  vividly  apprehended,  if  I  draw  out  the 
illustration  in  detail. 

A  father,  inured  to  life  upon  the  mountains,  and 
acquainted  by  experience  with  all  the  natural  pheno- 
mena of  an  Alpine  district,  is  under  the  necessity  o^ 


A  TONEMENT, 


(    63    ) 


A  TONEMENT. 


ra-ossing  a  very  perilous  glacier  with  children  of  four 
or  five  yeais  old.  His  first  counsel  for  their  safety 
is  the  obvious  and  usual  one — that  each  holding  by 
a  cord,  one  end  of  which  is  in  his  own  hand,  they 
shall  keep  at  as  great  a  distance  from  him,  and  from 
one  another,  as  the  length  of  the  cord  admits.  The 
children  are  of  such  an  age  that  the  direction, 
"Hold  this,  and  keep  at  as  great  a  distance  from 
me  as  you  possibly  can,"  can  just  be  made  intelli- 
gible to  them, — the  grounds  of  it  (plain  enough  to 
an  adult,  that  the  weight  of  the  party  may  be  dis- 
tributed along  the  ice,  and  not  brought  to  bear  on 
one  particular  spot,  which  might  thus  give  way) 
are,  it  may  be,  out  of  the  reach  of  a  child's  capacity. 

Let  us  suppose  that  the  children,  in  fright  and  dis- 
comfort, begin  to  reason  about  this  counsel,  and  to 
judge  of  it  by  their  natural  instincts ;  conceive  that 
one  of  them  should  think  and  say  as  follows  : — 
"Can  this  direction  come  from  our  father,  who  is 
so  affectionate  a  parent,  who  loves  to  have  us  close 
around  him  under  ordinary  circumstances,  hanging 
round  his  neck  and  sitting  on  his  knees?  Can  he 
say  upon  this  occasion,  '  Come  not  near  me,  child, 
at  the  peril  of  thy  life?'  Say  it  he  may,  but  I  will 
not  believe  such  to  be  his  meaning,  for  it  is  an  un- 
genial  idea,  conflicting  with  all  my  natural  instincts, 
which  are  to  cling  round  him  in  the  moment  of  dan- 
|;er,  and,  moreover,  with  confidence  in  his  affection." 

But  shortly  afterwards  a  further  direction  is  given. 
Night  falls  upon  the  mountain  summits,  its  black- 
ness only  relieved  by  the  flickering  snows.  The 
wearied  children  are  irresistibly  impelled  to  lie  down 
without  any  covering,  in  which  case  death  would 
overtake  them  before  the  morning.  The  father  dis- 
covers a  corner,  where  the  snowdrift  lies  deep.  He 
burrows  in  it  with  all  the  energy  of  a  man  who 
knows  that  life  depends  upon  his  exertions,  and  pro- 
poses that  in  the  cavities  so  made  the  children  shall 
lie,  the  cold  snow  piled  over  them  as  if  they  were 
buried  in  it,  and  only  the  smallest  possible  aperture 
allowed  for  the  passage  of  the  breath.  Adults,  of 
course,  would  be  aware  that  this  would  be  thr  -inly 
method  under  the  circumstances  (and  a  sure  metnocl) 
of  preserving  and  cherishing  the  vital  heat  of  the 
body  ;  but  not  so  the  children.  Snow,  applied  only 
to  parts  of  the  person,  and  not  as  a  general  wrapper, 
'.s  bitterly  cold  ;  and  the  children,  unable  to  under- 
stand how  the  great  white  mantle  of  winter  really 
wards  off  the  cold  of  the  atmosphere  from  the  seeds 
of  plants  and  flowers,  imagine  cruelty  in  this  direc- 
tion of  the  father,  and  shudder  at  the  sight  of  the 
bed  which  he  has  prepared  for  them. 

My  brethren,  a  little  child,  feeling  thus  and 
reasoning  thus  on  such  an  occasion,  presents  a  very 
iust  image  of  a  man  who  rejects  (or  qualifies,  so  as 
to  meet  his  own  notions)  the  doctrine  of  the  vicari- 
ous sacrifice  of  Christ,  on  the  ground  that  it  con- 
flicts with  his  natural  instincts,  violates  his  moral 
sense,  and  presents  to  us  (as  it  does  undoubtedly, 
under  one  aspect  of  it)  the  severity  of  God.  The 
allowing  these  grounds  to  weigh  with  us  against  the 
simple  statements  of  Scripture  is  not  wisdom,  is  not 
independence  of  thought,  is  not  a  high  -°ach  of  mind, 
— it  is  simply  folly. 

The  question  is  not  between  Revelation  and 
reason,  but  rather  between  reason  and  natural  in- 
stincts ;  reliance  upon  which  (in  defiance  of  reason) 
is  folly.  For  it  is  reason  surely  to  accept,  and  folly 
to  reject  or  modify  the  Word  of  the  all-wise  and 
all-loving  One  on  points  '>o  which  He  alone  is  com- 
petent to  inform  us. 


The  child  who  keeps  at  a  distance  from  his  father, 
and  buries  himself  in  the  snow,  is  a  wise  child,  be- 
cause, renouncing  the  guidance  of  his  instincts,  he 
places  faith  in  one  manifestly  his  superior  in  cajia- 
city.  The  child  who  clings  round  his  father's  neck 
upon  the  glacier,  and  stretches  his  limbs  beneath  ihe 
open  sky,  in  distrust  of  his  parent's  directions,  '«  a 
foolish  child  ;  for  what  is  greater  folly  than  to  refuse 
to  be  guided  by  a  recognised  superior  in  wisdom  ? 
And  it  cannot  be  too  strongly  insisted  upon,  that 
one  who,  in  investigating  such  a  subject  as  the 
method  of  human  salvation,  follows  the  guidance  of 
his  natural  instincts  in  preference  to. that  of  Revela- 
tion, is  a  weak  person,  not  a  man  of  bold  and 
courageous  thought.  Simple  dependence  upon  Goil, 
where  God  alone  can  teach,  is  the  truest  independ- 
ence of  mind,  — Gonlburn. 

(3^9-)  When  I  look  at  the  work  of  the  at  me- 
ment,  I  look  at  a  grand  and  glorious  transaction 
that  lies  back,  in  the  order  of  nature,  of  the  jnirpose 
of  election,  and  that  in  its  original  applicaLility  is 
limited  by  no  design  of  God.  It  is  for  the  world — 
"that  whosoever  believeth  may  net  perish  but  have 
everlasting  life."  I  see  in  it  a  work  designed  to 
show  the  benignity  of  God  ;  showing  how  God  car 
be  just,  and  yet  the  justifier  of  Him  that  believeth; 
how  he  can  maintain  His  truth  and  yet  forgive  ; 
how  He  can  welcome  rebels  to  His  favour  and  yet 
show  that  He  hates  thtir  sins  ;  how  He  can  admit 
them  to  the  fellowship  of  angels,  and  yet  not  have 
them  revolt  at  the  accession  to  their  number,  or 
lose  their  confidence  in  God,  as  if  He  were  disjiosed 
to  treat  the  evil  and  the  good  alike.  And  I  love  to 
contemplate  it  as  it  stands  in  its  original  glory — as 
it  is  an  emanation  of  the  Divine  goodness.  I  love 
to  contemplate  it,  not  in  reference  to  the  comjiara- 
lively  narrow  question  of  selfishness,  "who  shall  or 
who  shall  not  be  saved  ;  not  narrowed  down  by  a 
reference  to  a  sonlid  commercial  transaction  of  debt 
and  purchase  ;  hut  with  reference  to  the  display  of 
the  Divine  perfections — the  exhibition  of  the  mercy 
and  the  goodness  of  God.  So  I  love  to  stand  on 
the  shore  of  the  ocean,  while  surge  after  surge  breaks 
at  my  feet  ;  and  the  blue  expanse  stretclies  out 
inimitably  before  me  ;  and  ships  ride  proudly  over 
the  deep  ;  and  to  contemplate  it  not  with  reference 
to  the  question  whether  it  will  safely  bear  a  cargo  of 
mine  across  it  or  not,  but  as  a  glorious  exhibition  of 
the  power  and  greatness  of  God.  So  I  love  to  stand 
on  some  eminence,  and  look  down  upon  the  land- 
scape, and  to  survey  the  spreading  forests,  and  the 
river,  and  the  fields,  and  the  waterfalls,  and  tiie 
villages,  and  the  churches,  not  with  the  narrow  in- 
quiry, "What  is  all  this  worth?"  but  what  a  view 
is  there  here  of  the  goodness  of  God,  and  the  great- 
ness of  His  compassion  to  the  children  of  men  !  So 
I  stand  at  Niagara,  and  as  God  "pours"  the  water 
"from  His  hollow  hand,"  and  the  soul  is  filled  with 
emotions  of  unutterable  sublimity,  I  will  not  ask 
what  is  all  this  worth  for  a  mill-seat  ?  but  I  will 
allow  the  scene  to  lift  my  soul  up  to  God  ;  to  teach 
me  lessons  of  His  power  and  greatness,  and  to  show 
me  the  littleness  of  all  that  man  can  tlo.  And  so  I 
will  look  on  the  glorious  work  of  the  atonement.  I 
will  look  at  it,  and  ask  the  qr.estion,  who  is  or  who  is 
not  to  be  benefited  by  it?  I  will  ask  what  new 
manifestation  there  is  in  it  ot  the  character  of  God  ? 
what  is  there  to  elevate  the  soul  ?  what  is  there  to 
make  me  think  more  highly  of  the  love,  the  truth, 
and  the  justice  of  my  Maker  ?  what  is  there  to  ex- 


ATONEMENT. 


(    64    ) 


A  TONEMENT. 


pand  the  soul,  and  to  elevate  it  above  the  sordid 
views  and  grovelling  propensities  of  this  world  ? 

— Barnes,   1 87 1. 

VIII.  NOT  THE  CAUSE,  BUT  THE  MA  NT- 
FES  TA  TION  OF  god's  love  FOR  SINNERS. 

(390. )  We  do  not  suppose  that  compassion  towards 
them  has  been  purchased,  but  that  it  was  originally 
so  great  that  He  was  willing  to  stoop  to  sacrifice  in 
order  to  rescue  and  save  them.  A  father  has  a 
beloved  son.  He  embarks  on  the  ocean  in  the 
pursuits  of  commerce,  and  falls  into  the  hands  of  an 
Algerine  pirate.  He  is  chained,  and  driven  to  the 
slave  market,  and  sold,  and  conveyed  over  burning 
sands  as  a  slave,  and  pines  in  hopeless  bondage. 
The  news  of  this  reaches  the  ears  of  the  father. 
What  will  be  his  emotions?  Will  the  suffering  of 
that  son  make  a  change  in  his  character?  If 
required,  he  would  gather  up  his  silver,  and  his  gold, 
and  his  pearls,  and  leave  his  own  home,  and  cross 
the  ocean,  and  make  his  way  over  the  burning  sands, 
that  he  might  find  out  and  ransom  the  captive.  But 
think  you  he  would  be  a  different  man  now  from 
what  he  was?  Has  the  captivity  of  that  son  made  a 
change  in  him?  No.  His  sufferings  have  called  out 
the  original  tenderness  of  his  bosom,  and  have  merely 
developed  what  he  was.  He  so  loved  that  child  that 
the  forsaking  of  his  own  home,  and  the  perils  of  the 
ocean,  and  the  journey  over  burning  sands,  were  re- 
garded as  of  no  consequence  if  he  could  seek  out  and 
save  him.  These  sacrifices  and  toils  would  be  trifles  ; 
if  he  might  again  press  his  lost  son  to  his  bosom,  and 
restore  him  to  his  desolate  home.  It  is  the  love — 
the  strong  original  love  in  his  bosom,  that  prompts 
to  the  sacrifice,  and  that  makes  toil  and  peril  wel- 
come. So  of  God.  Such  was  His  original  love  for 
man,  that  He  was  willing  to  stoop  to  any  sacrifice 
to  save  him  ;  and  the  gift  of  a  Saviour  was  the  mere 
expression  of  that  love.         — Barnes,  1 798- 1870. 

IX.    ITS   RELATION   TO    THE    UNIVERSE. 

(391.)  The  mediation  of  Christ  is  represented  in 
Scripture  as  bringing  the  whole  creation  into  union 
with  the  church  01  people  of  God.  In  the  dispen- 
sation of  the  fulness  of  times  it  is  said  that  God 
would  "gather  together  in  one  all  things  in  Christ, 
both  which  are  in  heaven,  and  which  are  on  earth, 
even  in  Him."  Again,  "it  pleased  the  Father  that 
in  Him  should  all  fulness  dwell  ;  and  (having  made 
pence  through  the  blood  of  His  cross)  by  Him  to 
reconcile  all  things  unto  Himself;  by  Him,  I  say, 
whether  things  in  earth,  or  things  in  heaven." 

The  language  here  used  supposes  that  the  intro- 
duction of  sin  has  effected  a  disunion  between  men 
and  the  other  parts  of  CJod's  creation.  It  is  natural 
to  suppose  it  should  be  so.  If  a  province  of  a  great 
empire  rise  up  in  rebellion  against  the  lawful  govern- 
ment, all  communication  between  the  inhabitants  of 
such  a  province  and  the  faithful  adherents  to  order 
and  obedience  must  be  at  an  end.  A  line  of 
separation  would  be  immediately  drawn  by  the 
sovereign,  and  all  intercourse  between  the  one  and 
the  other  prohibited.  Nor  would  it  less  accord  with 
the  inclination  than  with  the  duty  of  all  the  friends 
of  righteousness,  to  withdraw  their  connection  from 
those  who  were  in  rebellion  against  the  supreme 
autiiority  and  the  general  good.  It  must  have  been 
thus  with  regard  to  the  holy  angels,  on  man's  apos- 
tacy.     Those  who  at  the  creation  of  our  world  had 


sung  together,  and  even  shouted  for  joy,  would  now 
retire  in  disgust  and  holy  indignation. 

Piut,  through  the  mediation  of  Christ,  a  reunion  is 
effected.  By  the  blood  of  the  cross  we  have  peace 
with  God  ;  and  being  reconciled  to  Him,  are  united 
to  all  who  love  Him  throughout  the  whole  extent  of 
creation.  If  Paul  could  address  the  Corinthians, 
concerning  one  of  their  excluded  members,  who  ha^" 
been  brought  to  repentance,  "To  whom  ye  forgive 
anything,  I  also  ;  "  much  more  would  the  friends 
of  righteousness  say,  in  their  addresses  to  the  Great 
Supreme,  concerning  an  excluded  member  from  the 
moral  system,  "  To  whom  Thou  forgivest  anything, 
we  also  ! "  Hence  angels  acknowledge  Christians 
as  brethren,  and  become  ministering  spiiits  to  them 
while  inhabitants  of  the  present  world. 

— Andrew  i-ulUr,  1754-1815. 

X.  REASONABLENESS  OF  CHRISt's  SUF- 
FERINGS FOR  HIS  PEOPLE. 

(392.)  The  believer  can  clear  God  as  just  in  re- 
ceiving the  debt  at  Christ's  hand,  from  that  near 
union  that  is  betwixt  Christ  and  His  people.  The 
husband  may  lawfully  be  arrested  for  his  wife's  debt, 
because  this  union  is  voluntary  ;  and  it  is  to  be  sup- 
posed, he  did,  or  ought  to  have  considered  what  her 
estate  was  before  he  contracted  so  near  a  relation  to 
her.  A  suit  may  justly  be  commenced  against  a 
surety,  because  it  was  his  own  act  to  engage  for  the 
debt.  To  be  sure,  Christ  was  most  free  in  engaging 
Himself  in  the  sinner's  cause.  He  knew  what  a  sad 
plight  man's  nature  was  in  ;  and  He  had  an  absolute 
freedom  to  please  Himself  in  His  choice  ;  whether 
He  would  leave  man  to  perish,  or  lend  His  helping 
hand  towards  his  recovery  ;  He  had  also  an  absolute 
power  of  His  own  life,  which  no  mere  creature  hath  ; 
so  that  it  being  His  own  offer  (upon  His  Father's 
call)  to  take  our  nature  in  marriage,  thereby  to  in- 
terest Himself  in  our  debt,  and  for  the  payment  of 
it,  to  disburse  and  pour  out  His  own  precious  blood 
to  death,  how  dare  proud  flesh  call  the  justice  of 
God  to  the  bar,  and  bring  His  righteousness  in  this 
transaction  into  question,  for  which  God  promisea 
Himself  the  highest  expressions  of  love  and  than*.- 
fulness  at  His  creatures'  hands  ? 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

XI.  VICARIOUS  SUFFERING  THE  LA)V  OF 
THE  UNIVERSE. 

(393.)  But  -why  must  my  Lord  be  wounded  for  my 
transgressions,  bruised  for  my  iniquities?  Why 
must  He  be  chastised  for  my  peace?  It  may  help 
some,  if  we  go  round  about  for  our  answer,  if  we 
appeal  to  dumb,  yet  speaking,  nature.  How  is  it 
that  the  ground  has  to  be  wounded  by  spade  and 
plough,  and  put,  as  it  were,  to  the  torture  under 
harrows  before  it  will  produce  bread-corn  for  us  ? 
How  is  it  that  when  the  corn  is  produced  it  must 
also  be  subjected  to  torture, — must  be  bruised  under 
millstones,  ground  and  reground,  before  it  will  make 
bread  for  us  ?  How  is  it  that  even  then  the  bread 
is  not  committed  to  the  stomach,  before  it  has  been 
further  bruised  and  mangled  by  the  teeth?  How 
is  it  that  plants,  flowers,  and  fruits  only  yield  their 
latent  virtues  when  bruised  ?  How  is  it  that  there 
can  be  no  wine  till  the  grapes  have  been  pressed 
or  trodden  ?  Why  is  vegetable  life  sacrificed  foi 
us?  Why  is  animal  life  slain  for  us?  Why  Joes 
every  creature  come  into  the  world  through  the  gate 


ATONEMENT. 


(    65    ) 


A  TONEMENT. 


tJi  sorrow?  Why  is  man  bom  to  labour?  Why  is 
the  sweat  of  the  brow  associated  with  labour?  Why 
are  labour  and  sorrow  the  price  which  must  be  paid 
for  knowledge?  Why  are  the  holiest  things  most 
hidden?  Why  is  God  hidden  from  us?  How  is  it 
tliat  all  things  are  secreted  within  chaff,  or  skin,  or 
shell,  and  that  violence  must  be  done  to  chaff,  skin, 
or  shell,  in  order  to  reach  the  hidden  good?  How 
is  it  that  death  is  the  gate  of  life?  If  you  find  the 
answers  to  these  questions,  it  will  help  you  to  the 
opening  of  the  higher  question  :  How  is  it  that 
the  bread  of  God,  the  Spirit  of  Life,  the  mercy  of 
the  Eternal  Father,  is  not  adapted  to  our  need,  till 
it  comes  to  us  through  the  humbled,  bruised,  tor- 
tured, crucified  Son  of  God?  If  you  cannot  answer 
the  former  questions,  you  will  learn,  at  least,  that 
the  whole  of  nature  labours  under  the  same  difficulty 
as  "Christ  crucified."  You  will  see  that  good 
comes  into  this  world  through  a  strait  gate,  the 
better  comes  in  through  a  still  straiter  gate,  and 
the  best  comes  in  through  the  straitest  gate  of  all. 
Indeed  the  absolutely  best  is  not  known  in  our 
world.  Nature  will  grow  thorns  and  thistles  with- 
out labour  and  culture,  but  if  you  will  have  corn- 
fields and  vineyards,  you  must  chastise  nature,  and 
afflict  your  own  body  and  soul  with  hard  labour. 
Children  will  grow  up  in  ignorance  and  vice,  with- 
out the  care  of  parents  and  the  labour  of  teacheis  ; 
but  not  in  knowledge  and  virtue.  Still  less,  without 
earnest  painstaking,  will  they  grow  up  for  heaven. 
The  fact  is,  evil  thrives  here,  but  good  suffers.  The 
higher  and  the  purer  the  good,  the  more  it  suffers. 
However  it  be  accounted  for,  "this  whole  creation 
groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain,"  brings  forth  in 
labour  and  sorrow,  runs  through  its  brief  course  of 
vanity,  and  ends  in  death.  Let  those,  therefore, 
who  turn  sulky  and  grumble,  because  they  find  the 
Cross  of  Christ  in  the  Bible,  have  the  goodness  to 
remove  the  stumblingblock  from  Nature.  For  my 
part  I  find  the  Cross  of  Christ,  not  an  untrue  revela- 
tion of  what  was  a  Divine  condition,  before  Jesus 
was  born,  or  the  prophecies  written.  Upon  whose 
shoulders  did  the  burden  of  this  fallen  and  degenerate 
creation  rest  from  time  immemorial  ?  Who  was 
grieved  and  smitten  to  the  heart,  by  the  Titans  of 
rebellion  and  wickedness  that  were  before  the  flood  ? 
Is  it  not  always  the  head  of  the  house  who  feels 
most  sorely  the  disorder,  the  evils,  and  the  sorrows 
of  his  house?  And  who  is  the  Head  of  this  great 
house  which  we  call  universe?  Is  it  its  own  head, 
or  is  God  its  Head  ?  God,  certainly.  Then  the 
chief  pressure  of  its  evil  condition  must  lie  upon 
Him,  must  it  not?  Surely,  What  countenance 
then,  or  authority,  from  nature,  have  men  for 
objecting  to  the  Cross  of  Christ  ?  The  Cross  of 
Christ  did  not  make  a  new  truth  :  it  was  rather 
the  manifestation  of  a  world-old  truth. 

—Pulsford. 

(394.)  The  points  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Atone- 
ment which  present  most  difficulty  to  the  natural 
understanding,  are,  first,  the  necessity  of  any  suffer- 
ing in  order  to  procure  human  redemption  ;  and, 
secondly,  the  imputation  to  the  innocent  of  the  sins 
of  the  guilty.  It  may  alleviate  these  difficulties  for 
such  minds  as  love  to  see  a  unity  of  principle  in 
God's  dealings,  to  remark,  first,  that  almost  all 
temporal  blessings  are  purchased  at  the  expense  of 
•orrow  somewhere.  Since  the  entrance  of  sin  into 
the  world,  it  seems  to  be  the  one  condition  of  our 
every  blessing,  nay,  in  many  instances,  of  life  itself, 


that  some  one  shall  suffer  to  procure  thera.  We 
move  in  the  midst  of  comforts,  most  of  which  are 
furnished  by  the  severe  toil  of  the  handicraftsman. 
Our  lives  are  supported  by  animal  food,  and  in  [iro- 
viding  animal  food,  some  innocent  creature  is  made 
to  bleed  and  die.  The  structure  of  civilisation  is 
built  up  upon  the  groans  and  toils  of  the  few.  It  is 
then  surely  in  accordance  with  a  law  which  seems 
to  pervade  God's  universe,  that  the  highest,  the 
inappreciable  blessing  of  redemption,  should  l)e 
purchased  by  the  deepest  anguish  that  ever  rent  the 
human  soul  asunder. 

Secondly,  the  fact  is  certain,  however  we  may 
explain  it,  that  sins 'are  visited  upon  others  than 
their  agents.  The  spendthrift  and  intemperate 
father  entails  upon  his  son,  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  things,  an  enfeebled  constitution,  and  all  the 
miseries  of  poverty.  We  may  quarrel  with  these 
facts  if  we  please  ;  but  they  confront  us  wherever 
we  turn  our  eyes,  and  we  cannot  deny  them.  Why 
is  an  innocent  person  to  suffer  even  one  single  pang 
of  bodily  pain  for  the  sins  of  the  guilty  ?  I  care  not 
to  say  why  ;  for  to  our  limited  capacities  many  of 
God's  dealings  are  utterly  inscrutable  ;  but  I  can- 
not be  blind  to  the  fact  that  so  it  is  in  the  world  of 
nature.  And  if  (iod  deals  thus  in  the  world  of 
nature,  why  should  we  refuse  to  believe  that  His 
dealings  in  the  world  of  grace  will  be  characterised 
by  the  same  great  feature,  that  (in  Scripture  phrase- 
ology) "Ciirist  was  made  sin  for  us,  in  order  that 
we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  is 
Him  "  ?  — Goulburn. 

(395- )  Society,  the  whole  fabric  of  the  moral 
world,  is  carried  on,  and  is  held  together  by  a  law, 
by  a  scheme  of  natural  intervention  or  mediation; 
I  think  you  could  scarcely  name  a  joy  you  have  ever 
felt  ;  or  a  trouble  from  which  you  have  ever  escaped, 
which  you  cannot  trace  to  the  intervention  of  another, 
and  not  rarely  to  an  intervention  efiected  with  pail 
to  the  intervener. 

Think  of  the  little  babe  ;  there  it  lies,  joyous  and 
redolent  with  the  promise  of  the  activities  of  life, 
yet  utterly  helpless  and  dependent  upon  others' 
care.  But  think  also  of  the  pale  face  of  her  whose 
strength  scarcely  suffices  to  nestle  her  little  one  in  hei 
nerveless  arms.  Nay,  without  my  bidding,  som« 
of  you  perforce  recall  to  memory,  how  the  mother's 
pulse  ceased  to  beat  before  she  could  utter  a  parent'* 
blessing  on  a  child.  And  what  is  all  this?  what  is 
it  but  a  redemption  of  a  life,  at  the  cost  of  the 
sufferings  of  another  I 

Pass  onwards  a  few  years,  and  trace  that  child 
now  walking  with  elastic  step  at  his  father's  side — 
but  look  upwards  at  the  father's  face  ;  you  will  not 
be  surprised  to  find  many  a  deep  furrow  there, 
furrows  that  bear  testimony  to  the  father's  anxieties 
and  father's  toils — anxieties  and  toils,  that  the 
bright  boy  who  walks  at  his  side  may  have  a  good 
offset  for  the  battle  of  life  before  him,  nay,  anxieties 
and  toils  sometimes  deep  and  inevitable  for  the  bare 
supply  of  that  child's  daily  bread.  And  what  means 
all  this?  What  is  it  but  redemption  again,  some- 
times procured  at  the  cost  of  labour,  and  suffering, 
and  tears  ! 

And  when  is  it  that  you  cease  to  hear  men  speak 
of  their  "friends"?  What  other  word  so  commoD 
among  us?  Need  I  remind  you  what  that  word 
"  friend  "  practically  implies?  Alas!  for  the  most 
oart  it  implies,  not  the  confiding  interchange  of 
thougnt ;  not  the  sweet  comparison  of  experience. 


ATONEMENT. 


66 


ATONEMENT. 


jtnd  of  hope,  and  of  aspiration  ;  not  the  pleasant 
suggestions  which  arise  from  community  of  taste  ; 
for  such  high  privileges  are  reserved  for  those  only 
who  by  patient  continuance  in  well-c'oing  have 
acquired  the  right  and  the  capacity  to  ei.joy  them  ; 
but  ihat  commonest  of  words  a  "friend,"  bears 
testimony  to  that  commonness  of  weakness  which 
looks  for  aid  in  another's  strength  ;  to  that  common- 
ness of  wants  which  seeks  their  supply  in  another's 
abundance  ;  it  bears  testimony  to  that  commonness 
of  troubles  which  not  rarely  can  be  removed  solely 
at  the  cost  of  another's  pains,  even  greater  than 
those  which  they  assuage.  There  is  not,  there  can- 
not be,  a  man  before  me  who  may  not  trace,  again 
and  again,  instances  of  what  1  mean  in  his  own 
personal  history.  "  I  speak  of  wlrat  we  know  and 
feel  within." 

And  think  again,  for  a  moment,  even  of  the  arts 
and  conveniences  of  life  ;  of  the  appliances,  the 
inventions,  the  discoveries  which  God  hath  ordained 
to  ennoble  life  ;  such  results  come  at  no  man's  light 
bidding  ;  the  discovery,  the  invention  may  come, 
and  in  fact  must  at  last  like  a  flash  ;  but  the  happy, 
the  final  thought  comes  to  the  man  of  genius  only 
after  days  and  nights,  or  even  years  of  patient 
endurance  in  intellectual  toil.  And  when  it  does 
come  to  him,  not  seldom  the  health  is  failing,  or 
the  lamp  of  life  is  flickering  and  burnt  low ;  or 
other  men  step  in,  reaping  the  harvest  of  his  toil, 
and  leaving  him  little  more  than  the  gleanings  of 
the  field,  the  sowing  whereof  was  all  his  own.  Look 
at  the  countenances  of  the  chief  among  those  able 
men  who  now  throng  your  town,*  and  on  their 
brows  you  will  find  many  a  trace  of  the  midnight 
struggle  with  thought,  ageing  them  before  they  have 
reached  their  prime.  Herein  is  that  saying  true, 
"One  soweth,  and  another  reapeth."  These  men 
labour,  you  and  I  "  enter  into  their  labours." 

And  so  I  might  proceed  with  other  instances  of 
a  like  import.  If  the  time  allowed,  I  might  more 
than  briefly  allude  to  the  well-known  names  of  noble 
men  and  of  noble  women  still  living  among  us,  who 
like  apostles  and  martyrs  of  old,  count  not  their 
lives  dear  unto  them,  if  only  they  may  help  the 
helpless,  cheer  the  cheerless,  raise  the  fallen,  and 
impart  the  joy  of  hope  to  the  spirit  of  the  dying. 
But  1  forbear  ;  for  one  continuous  system  of  redemp- 
tion and  of  vicarious  sufiermg  has  l^een  ordained  of 
God  as  the  very  law  and  tlie  plan  of  our  natural 
being. 

Now,  such  being  the  scheme,  such  the  manner 
after  which  it  has  pleased  the  Eternal  Creator  to 
impart  the  joys,  to  assuage  the  sorrows,  and  to 
enlighten  the  ignorance  of  His  creatures  in  this 
their  natural  life  which  endures  but  for  threescore 
years  and  ten  ;  I  ask  you.  Is  there  anything  which 
can  reasonably  jar  upon  our  feelings,  if  we  find  that 
the  Eternal  Father  in  His  marvellous  beneficence 
has  inierposed  after  a  like,  though  a  higher  manner, 
on  behalf  of  His  children  in  those  higlier  relations 
of  theirs  which  endure  fur  ever  ?         — I^rUcliard. 

XII.    OBJECTIONS  ANSWERED. 

1,  Salvation  toy  the  suffering-  of  anotber  is  not 
tnconsistent  with  the  Divine  justice. 

(396.)  Men  say  that  U  is  unjust  that  one  rosui 
^ould  suffer  for  another  ;  however  willing  mav  be 

*  The  sermon  from  which  this  extract  was  made  was 
preached  on  the  occasion  of  a  visit  of  the  BriiUh  Associa- 
ttorn  to  Norwich. 


the  sufferer,  however  he  may  put  aside  the  rights  of 
his  own  innocence,  it  is  revolting  to  our  reason  to 
suppose  that  God  will  or  can  accept  such  a  sacrifice 
as  effectual  towards  the  forgiveness  of  the  guilty. 
Yet,  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  in  human  history 
more  plain  than  that  men  suffer  the  natural  punish- 
ments for  things  of  which  they  are  not  guilty.  We 
speak  as  if  the  Saviour's  sacrifice  were  the  only  fact 
hard  to  be  accepted  in  the  Divine  economy,  as  if  an 
objection  established  against  this  one  tenet  would 
leave  all  the  rest  of  the  Divine  Government  plain, 
and  easy  to  be  understood.  That  is  not  the  case. 
How  do  we  make  it  just  that  all  from  their  birth 
should  need  atonement,  that  they  should  be  incap- 
able of  holiness?  How  do  we  account  for  the 
ruined  health  and  morals  of  the  children  where  the 
father  has  been  licentious?  how  for  the  devastation 
of  whole  countries  in  a  warfare  waged  upon  the 
quarrel  of  kings?  how  for  the  calamities  which 
shipwreck,  and  earthquake,  and  contagion  bring  on 
the  unoffending?  how  for  the  light  and  prosperity 
enjoyed  by  European  races,  whilst  the  African 
nations  grovel  in  degradation  ?  Men  are  not,  and 
cannot  be,  regarded  only  as  free  and  responsible 
units,  each  planted  apart  from  all  his  neighbours 
and  thoroughly  independent  of  them  all  ;  as  per- 
fectly free  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  com- 
pletely responsible  for  all  their  acts  without  help  or 
hindrance  from  any  other.  Man  has  his  individual 
life  ;  but  he  is  also  one  of  a  family,  of  a  city,  of  a 
nation  ;  and  his  lot  is  bound  up  with  that  of  others 
in  all  these  relations.  When  the  shells  are  crashing 
through  the  roofs  of  the  bombarded  town,  they  will 
shatter  alike  the  warrior  and  the  man  that  longs  for 
p'=?ace.  When  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  dark- 
ness and  destroyeth  in  the  noonday  is  marching 
through  our  streets  and  alleys,  it  mows  down  alike 
those  whose  careless  habits  have  encouraged  the 
disease,  and  those  who  have  purged  their  dwellings 
from  those  pollutions  on  which  infection  feeds. 
The  Most  High  is  just  indeed  ;  but  He  is  also 
a  jealous  God,  visiting  the  sins  of  the  fathers  on 
the  children.  Through  such  enactments  does  His 
justice  work  itself  out.  One  day  we  may  under- 
stand His  ways,  and  learn  that  His  moral  govern- 
ment proceeds  on  laws  as  beautiful  and  as  harmoni- 
ous as  those  which  regulate  the  world  of  nature. 

But,  in  the  meantime,  let  us  not  argue  upon 
God's  justice,  as  if  we  understood  it  thoroughly. 
So  far  from  its  being  a  paradox  that  another  should 
exercise  an  influence  over  our  moral  being,  examples 
of  such  an  influence  will  occur  to  every  one.  And 
a  being  quite  separated  from  all  other  nati'-'^s,  and 
owing  nothing  of  his  character  or  his  anions  to 
others  around  him,  cannot  even  be  conceived  of  any 
existing  under  our  human  nature.  If  it  is  unjust 
that  your  sins,  out  of  which  you  cannot  help  your- 
selves, should  receive  great  help  from  another 
whose  you  are,  in  whom  as  the  Word  and  Wisdom 
of  God  you  live,  and  move,  and  have  your  being, 
why  are  you  allowed  to  profit  by  other  men's  toil 
and  labour  in  anything  whatever?  All  that  you  are 
and  have  has  come  from  others,  now  through  the 
most  wearing  labour,  now  through  perils  that  have 
even  cost  life  itself  There  is,  therefore,  nothing 
repugnant  to  the  known  facts  of  God's  government, 
in  the  belief  that  one  may  exert  an  influence  over 
others,  both  for  good  and  evil  ;  it  is  not  utterly 
abhorrent  to  the  Divine  justice  that  one  should  be 
permitted  to  lift  off  the  weight  of  others' sins,  unless 
it  is  also  abhorrent  to  it  that  sins  should  be  lraaa> 


A  TONEMENT. 


(    67     ) 


AVARICE. 


initted    from   father  to  child,   or   the  profligate  be 
allowed  to  entice  tlie  innocent  to  share  his  sin. 

The  power  of  others  over  us  is  one  of  the  most 
difficult  forms  of  that  obscure enign. a — theexistence 
of  evil  in  the  world.  But  of  all  solutions  the  least 
satisfactory  to  my  own  mind  would  be  that  which 
allowed  it  for  evil  and  denied  it  for  good  ;  which 
admitted  that  the  sins  of  the  first  Adam  may  be 
inherited,  but  denied  that  the  second  Adam  could 
relieve  them  ;  which  was  able  to  say,  "  In  Adam 
all  die,"  but  found  it  a  blasphemy  against  the 
justice  of  heaven  to  add,  "Even  so  in  Christ  shall 
all  be  made  alive."  — 1  hoinson, 

2.  The  redemption  of  the  human  race  Is  not  a 
task  unworthy  of  the  Divine  greatness. 

(397-)  God  is  as  incapable  of  being  indifferent 
towards  I  lis  lost  mankind,  as  is  a  mother  towards  her 
lost  child.  Lost  mankind  are  not  only  His  lost,  but 
His  lost  children.  His  piece  of  money  is  Money  in- 
deed, for  originally  it  came  out  of  the  mine  of  His 
Eternal  Nature.  Heathen  poets.  Christian  Apostles, 
and  modern  philosophy  are  agreed  that  mankind 
"are  His  offspring. "  And  does  not  the  Source  of 
all  hearts  feel  ?  And  is  He  not  concerned  for  His 
lost?  In  the  Divinity  of  indifference  I  cannot 
believe.  I  could  far  more  easily  believe  that  the 
Divine  Heart  carries  a  huge  grief;  and  that  "the 
Man  of  Sorrows  "  only  partially  repre^jnf;  (he 
tenderness  of  Infinite  Love.  In  human  hearts,  in 
mother's  love,  in  angelic  love,  and  in  the  Person  of 
Jesus,  the  affections  of  God  have  a  wide  and  won- 
derful revelation  ;  but  what  the  Divine  Affections  are 
in  their  Fountain-head  must  be  beyond  all  revealing 
and  conceiving.  And  yet  I  am  strongly  inclined  to 
think  that,  to  many,  one  great  offence  of  the 
Gospel  is,  that  it  is  too  gracious,  too  tender,  too 
womanly.  They  can  believe  in  a  God  afar  off,  but 
they  cannot  believe  in  God  "nigh  at  hand."  They 
can  conceive  God  to  have  Almighty  Power,  Infinite 
Wisdom  and  Justice,  but  they  cannot  give  Him 
credit  for  Infinite  Affection.  They  know  that  a 
woman  will  light  a  candle  and  go  into  every  hole 
and  corner,  stooping  and  searching,  until  she  find 
that  which  she  has  missed  ;  but  they  have  no  idea 
that  this  can  be  a  true  parable  of  God's  concern  for 
His  lost  children.  They  are  not  surprised  to  find 
a  heart  in  my  Lady  F"ranklin  :  they  are  not  surprised 
at  any  measures  that  she  may  set  on  foot  to  recover 
the  lost  one.  They  are  not  surprised  that  the 
British  and  American  Governments  should  be  con- 
cerned to  seek,  and  if  possible,  to  save  Sir  John  and 
his  crew.  No  one  said,  they  are  not  worth  the 
expense  and  labour  of  seeking,  because  they  are 
few.  Not  far  from  a  million  pounds  were  sacrificed 
in  this  search.  Besides  money,  good  brothers  were 
not  found  backward  to  expose  their  own  lives  to 
danger,  in  the  distant  hope  of  finding  and  relieving 
their  missing  lirothers.  Have  the  English  Govern- 
ment and  people  so  great  a  concern  to  recover  their 
los:  and  has  God  none?  Better  say  that  a  drop 
contains  more  than  the  ocean,  that  a  candle  gives 
more  light  than  the  sun,  that  there  are  higher  virtues 
in  a  stream  than  in  its  source,  and  that  the  creature 
has  rhore  heart  than  (jod.  Otherwise  confess,  that 
the  Gospel  is  infinitely  worthy  of  the  Heart  of  God  ; 
and  never  more  imagine  the  Great  Father  to  find 
rest  under  the  loss  of  His  human  family,  in  the  con- 
solation :  "They  are  nothing  compared  with  My 
universe,  they  will  never  be  missed.  '  — Fulsford, 


S.  This  -world  Is  not  too  small  a  sphere  for  such 
a  wonderful  display  of  the  Divine  love. 

(39S. )  Let  creation  he  ever  so  extensive,  there  is 
nothing  inconsistent  with  reason  in  supposing  that 
some  one  particular  part  of  it  should  be':iiosen  out 
from  the  rest,  as  a  theatre  on  which  the  great 
Author  of  all  things  would  perform  His  mosi 
glorious  works.  Every  empire  that  has  been 
founded  in  the  world  has  had  some  one  particular 
spot  where  those  actions  were  performed,  from  which 
its  glory  has  arisen.  'I'he  glory  of  the  C.xsars  was 
founded  on  the  event  of  a  Ijattle  fought  near  a  very 
inconsitlerable  city  ;  and  why  might  not  this  world, 
though  less  than  "  twenty-five  thousand  miles  in  cir- 
cumference," be  chosen  as  the  theatre  on  which  God 
would  bring  about  events  that  should  fill  His  whole 
empire  with  glory  and  Joy  ?  It  would  be  as  reason- 
able to  plead  the  insignificance  of  Actium  or  Agin- 
court  in  objection  to  the  competency  of  the  victories 
there  obtained  (supposing  them  to  have  been  on  the 
side  of  righteousness),  to  fill  the  respective  empires 
of  Rome  and  Britain  with  glory,  as  that  of  our 
world  to  fill  the  whole  empire  of  God  with  matter 
of  joy  and  everlasting  praise.  The  truth  is,  the 
comparative  dimension  of  our  world  is  of  no 
account.  If  it  be  large  enough  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  events  which  are  sufficient  to  occupy  the 
minds  of  all  intelligences,  that  is  all  that  is  required. 
— Andrew  Fuller,  1754-18 15. 

XIII.  NO  DIFFICULTIES  IN  OUR  UNDER- 
STANDING THE  METHOD  OF  THE  ATONE- 
MENT SHOULD  HINDER  US  FROM  GRATE- 
FULLY ACCEPTING  IT. 

(399.)  When  I  see  men  busy  about  the  methoJ. 
of  atonement,  I  marvel  at  them.  It  is  as  if  a  man 
that  was  starving  to  death  should  insist  upon  going 
into  a  laboratory  to  ascertain  in  what  way  dirt 
germinated  wheat.  It  is  as  if  a  man  that  was 
perishing  from  hunger  should  insist  upon  having  a 
chemical  analysis  of  bread.  — Beecher. 


AVARICE. 

1.  Defined. 

(400.)  Avarice  is  nothing  but  a  higher  form  of 
the  wish  to  obtain  property — so  high  that  it  cuts 
off  one's  sympathy  from  others  ;  and  lowers  the 
impression  of  the  value  of  things  which  are  more 
valuable  than  riches.  It  becomes  first  a  kind  of 
intemperance ;  and  then  it  becomes  like  intem- 
perance itself,  a  disease  ;  and  finally  it  becomes 
insanity.  There  are  few  misers  ;  but  there  are  a 
great  many  men  who  have  the  first  tc/uches  of 
miserism  in  them.  There  is  a  closeness,  a  tenacity 
with  which  men  hold  money.  There  is  a  growing 
indisposition  to  use  it  for  any  other  purpose  than  to 
increase  it.  There  is  a  sjiirii  by  which  men  see  m 
riches  only  capital  to  be  invested  for  the  sake  of  its 
interest,  which  is  to  them  good  to  be  invested  again. 
So  they  roll  their  possessions,  as  boys  used  to  roll 
the  snow  in  winter.  In  rolling,  it  incre.ises  in 
magnitude,  and  is  at  last  vaster  than  they  can 
shove.  Anfl  when  they  have  amassed  it,  what  do 
they  do  ?  They  let  it  stand  where  it  is,  and  the 
summer  finds  it,  and  melts  it  all  away.  It  sinks  to 
water  again  ;  and  the  water  is  sucked  up,  and  goes 
to  make  snow  once  more  for  other  loolish  bjys  lo 


AVARICE. 


(    68    ) 


AVARICE. 


roll  into  heaps.  Men  go  on  amassing  wealth, 
eiilier  in  the  early  stages,  or  the  middle  stages,  or 
the  latter  stages  of  avarice,  desiring  it,  not  for 
what  it  can  do.  not  for  what  it  is  as  a  quickener,  as 
a  helper,  as  a  teacher,  as  a  purveyor  of  God's 
bouniy,  but  purely  and  simply  because  it  is  wealth. 

— Batcher. 
2.  Is  a  result  of  atheism. 

(401.)  Because  men  believe  not  Providence, 
therefore  tliey  do  so  greedily  scrape  and  hoard. 
They  do  not  believe  any  reward  for  charity,  there- 
fore they  will  part  with  nothing. 

— Barrow,  163 1 -1 7 1 3. 

5.  Its  Insldlousness. 

(402.)  Beware  of  growing  covetousness,  for  of  all 
sins  this  is  one  of  the  most  insidious.  It  is  like 
the  silting  up  of  a  river.  As  the  stream  comes 
down  from  the  land,  it  brings  with  it  sand  and 
earth,  and  deposits  all  these  at  its  mouth,  so  that 
by  degrees,  unless  the  conservators  watch  it  care- 
fully, it  will  block  itself  up,  and  leave  no  channel 
for  ships  of  great  burden.  By  daily  deposit  it 
imperceptibly  creates  a  bar  which  is  dangerous  to 
navigation.  Many  a  man  when  he  begins  to 
accumulate  wealth  commences  at  the  same  moment 
to  ruin  his  soul,  and  the  more  he  acquires,  the 
more  closely  he  blocks  up  his  liberality,  which  is, 
so  to  speak,  the  very  mouth  of  spiritual  life.  In- 
stead of  doing  more  for  (jod  he  does  less  ;  the  more 
he  saves  the  more  he  wants,  and  the  more  he  wants 
of  this  world  the  less  he  cares  for  the  world  to 
come.  — Spurgeon, 

4.  Degrades  tlie  character. 

(403.)  The  avaricious  man  is  like  a  pig,  which 
seeks  its  food  in  the  mud,  without  caring  where  it 
comes  from.  —  Vianney. 

6.  Leads  to  dishonesty  and  falsehood. 

(404.)  The  love  of  money  can  never  keep  goo'' 
quarter  with  honesty  ;  there  is  a  mint  of  fraud  in 
the  worldly  breast,  and  it  can  coin  lies  as  fast  as 
utterance.  — Adams,  1653. 

6.  The  imagination  of  the  covetous. 

(405.)  The  fancy  is  a  mint-house,  and  most  of 
the  tiioughts  a  covetous  man  mints  are  worldly  :  he 
is  always  plotting  and  projecting  about  the  things  of 
Ihis  life  ;  like  a  virgin  that  hath  all  her  thoughts 
running  upon  her  suitor.  — Watson,  1696. 

7.  Is  Insatiable. 

(406.)  It  is  not  abundance,  nor  masses  of  gold 
and  silver,  that  can  quench  this  insatiable  thirst  ; 
but  thereby  it  is  rather  increase!.  I'or  as  more 
wood  put  to  the  fire  augments  the  flame  and  the 
heat,  so  the  desire  of  many  by  addition  of  wealth  is 
mulliplied.  — Attersol,  1618. 

(407.)  The  countryman  in  the  fable  would  needs 
B^ay  till  the  river  was  run  all  away,  and  then  go  over 
dry-shod  ;  but  the  river  did  run  on  still,  and  he  was 
deceived  in  his  expectation.  Such  are  the  world- 
ling's inordinate  desires  :  the  deceitful  heart  pro- 
miseth  to  see  them  run  over  and  gone,  when  they 
are  attained  to  such  a  measure,  and  then  they  are 
stronger,  wider,  and  more  unruly  than  before  ;  for  a 
covetous  heart  grasps  at  no  less  than  the  whole 
world — would  fain  be  master  of  all,  and  dwell  alone, 
like  a  wen  in  the  Dody,  which  draws  all  to  itself. 
l.et  it  have  never  so  much,  it  will  reach  after  more  ; 
%»ia  house  to  bouse,  and  field  to  field,  till  there  be 


no  more  place  to  compass.  Like  a  bladder,  it 
swells  wider  and  wider,  the  more  of  this  empty 
world  is  put  into  it.  So  boundless,  so  endless,  so 
inordinate  are  the  corrupt  desires  of  worldly-minded 
men  !  — Spencer,  1656. 

(408.)  A  ship  may  be  overladen  with  silver,  even 
unto  sinking,  and  yet  space  enough  be  left  to 
hold  ten  times  more.  So  a  covetous  man,  though 
he  have  enough  to  sink  him,  yet  never  hath  he 
enough  to  satisfy  him,  like  that  miserable  caitiff, 
mentioned  by  Theocritus,  first  wishing  that  he  had 
a  thousand  sheep  in  his  flock,  and  then  when  he  has 
them,  he  would  have  cattle  without  number.  Thus 
a  circle  cannot  fill  a  triangle,  so  neither  can  the 
whole  world  (if  it  were  to  be  compassed)  the  heart 
of  man  ;  a  man  may  as  easily  fill  a  chest  with  grace, 
as  the  heart  with  gold.  The  air  fills  not  the  body, 
neither  doth  money  the  covetous  mind  of  man. 

—  Trapp,  1 601-1669. 

(409.)  Covetousness  is  a  disease  of  the  mind,  and 
an  unnatural  thirst  which  is  inflamed  by  that  which 
should  quench  it.  Every  desire  that  is  natural  is 
satisfied  and  at  rest,  when  it  hath  once  obtained  the 
thing  it  desired.  If  a  man  be  hungry,  he  is  satisfied 
when  he  hath  eaten  ;  or  if  he  be  thirsty,  his  thirst  is 
allayed  and  quenched  when  he  hath  drank  to  such 
a  proportion  as  nature  doth  require ;  and  if  he  eat 
and  drink  beyond  this  measure,  nature  is  oppressed, 
and  it  is  a  burden  to  him.  But  covetousness  is  the 
thirst,  not  of  nature,  but  of  a  diseased  mind.  It  is 
the  thirst  of  a  fever,  or  of  a  dropsy  ;  the  more  a  man 
drinks  the  more  he  desires,  and  the  more  he  is  in- 
flamed. In  like  manner,  the  more  the  covetous  man 
increaseth  his  estate,  the  more  his  desires  are  en- 
larged and  extended,  and  he  finds  continually  new 
occasions  and  new  necessities. 

If  this  be  the  nature  of  this  vice,  the  more  it  gels 
still  to  covet  the  more,  then  nothing  can  be  more 
unreasonable  than  to  think  to  gratify  this  appetite  ; 
because,  at  this  rate,  the  man  can  never  be  con- 
tented, because  be  can  never  have  enough.  Nay, 
so  far  as  it  is  from  that,  that  every  new  accession  to 
his  fortune  sets  his  desires  one  degree  farther  from 
rest  and  satisfaction.  For  a  covetous  mind  having 
no  bounds,  it  is  very  probable  that  the  man's  desire 
will  increase  much  faster  than  his  estate  ;  and  then 
the  richer  he  is,  he  is  still  the  poorer,  because  he  is 
still  the  less  contented  with  his  condition.  However, 
it  is  impossible  that  the  man's  desire  should  ever  be 
satisfied  ;  for  desire  being  always  first,  if  the  man's 
desire  for  riches  advanceth  and  goes  forward  as  fast 
as  riches  follow,  then  it  is  not  possible  for  riches 
ever  to  overtake  the  desire  of  them,  no  more  than 
the  hinder  wheels  of  a  coach  can  overtake  those 
which  are  before  ;  because,  as  they  were  at  a  dis- 
tance at  first  setting  out,  so  let  them  go  never  so  £u 
or  so  fast,  they  keep  the  same  distance  still. 

—  Tillotson,  1630-1694. 

(410.)  The  thirst  for  gold,  like  the  drunkard's,  is 
insatiable.  The  more  it  is  indulged,  the  more  the 
flame  is  fed,  it  burns  the  fiercer.  — GtiChrU. 

(411.)  Just  as  our  views  expand  the  higher  we 
ascend  the  steep  of  a  vast  mountain,  so  do  our 
wishes  widen  the  further  we  advance  in  wealth. 

— Mursell. 

(412.)  The  love  of  money,  like  all  other  passion*, 
grows  by  what  it  feeds  on.  Indulgence  serve* 
only  to  strengthen  it,  and  to  render  it  the  mora 


A  V A  RICE. 


(    69    ) 


A  VARICE. 


insatiable.  What  seemed  a  fortune  before  it  was 
attained,  dwindles  into  comparative  poverty  when 
it  hao  been  actually  acquired.  The  height  which 
looked  so  lofty  when  viewed  from  the  plain,  sinks 
down  almost  to  the  level  of  the  plain  itself,  when, 
standing  on  its  summit,  the  climber  contrasts  it 
with  tlie  far  loftier  eminences  which  have  now  come 
into  view.  He  finds  himself  only  as  yet  at  the 
bottom  of  a  vast  mountain  chain  ;  the  higher  he 
asceniis,  the  more  distinctly  this  fact  appears  ;  and 
just  so  it  is  with  the  love  of  money.  The  sum  that 
looked  so  large  in  his  eye  at  the  outset,  shrinks 
by  and  by  into  a  trifle.  Once  it  seemed  wealth, 
now  it  appears  the  barest  competence.  It  is 
measured  every  year  by  a  new  standard — the  stan- 
dard of  a  higher  grade  of  society — of  a  more 
ambitious  style  of  living — of  new  wants  and  more 
expensive  tastes.  Things  which  at  one  time  would 
have  been  accounted  luxuries,  having  now  become 
the  merest  necessaries  of  life.  That  which  at  an 
earlier  stage  of  his  career  would  have  been  ac- 
counted extravagance,  has  now  almost  the  aspect  of 
meanness.  The  point  at  which  he  is  prepared  to 
say  that  it  is  enough,  is  like  the  horizon,  to  which 
the  traveller,  however  far  and  however  fast  the 
journeys,  never  gets  any  nearer.  The  case  now 
described  is,  to  the  full,  as  common  in  our  day,  as 
it  could  have  been  in  the  time  of  Solomon. 

— Buchanan. 

8.  Is  especially  the  sin  of  old  age. 

(413.)  There  may  be  a  forsaking  of  a  particular 
gin  that  has  been  delightful  and  predominant 
without  sincerity  towards  God,  for  another  lust  may 
have  got  possession  of  the  heart,  and  take  the 
throne.  There  is  an  alternate  succession  of  appetites 
in  the  corrupt  nature,  according  to  the  change  of 
men's  temper  or  interests  in  the  world.  As  seeds 
sown  in  that  order  in  a  garden,  that  'tis  always  full 
of  a  succession  of  fruits  and  herbs  in  season  ;  so 
original  sin  that  is  sown  in  our  nature,  is  productive 
of  divers  lusts,  some  in  the  spring,  others  in  the 
summer  of  our  age,  some  in  the  autumn,  others  in 
the  winter.  Sensual  lusts  flourish  in  youth,  but 
when  mature  age  has  cooled  these  desires,  worldly 
lusts  succeed  ;  in  old  age  there  is  no  relish  for 
sensuality,  but  covetousness  reigns  imperiously. 
Kow  he  that  expels  one  sin,  and  entertains  another, 
continues  in  a  state  of  sin  ;  'tis  but  exchanging  one 
familiar  for  another  ;  or,  to  borrow  the  prophet's 
expression,  "  'Tis  as  one  should  fly  from  a  lion,  and 
meet  with  a  bear  "  that  will  as  certainly  tlevoui  him. 

— Salter,  1840. 

•.  Sometimes  overreaclies  itself. 

(414  )  A  very  rich  merchant,  who  had  an  only  son, 
made  his  will,  by  which  he  gave  all  his  wealth,  which 
amounted  to  three  hundred  thousand  francs,  to  certain 
monks,  leaving  them  to  give  to  his  son  such  a  sum 
as  they  wished.  The  merchant  died  ;  the  monks 
took  all  to  themselves  without  wishing  to  give  any- 
thing to  the  heir.  The  latter  conijiiained  to  the 
viceroy,  who,  having  seen  the  will,  asked  the 
monks  what  they  offered  to  the  son.  "Ten  thou- 
sand francs,"  they  replied.  ''You  wish,  then,  to 
have  all  the  rest  ?  '  "  Yes,  my  lord,  we  demanded 
the  execution  of  the  will."  "That  is  just,"  said 
the  viceroy,  "but  you  do  not  understand  it 
properly  ;  it  is  said  that  the  son  shall  have  that 
which  you  wish,  you  grant  ten  to  the  heir  ;  it  is 
two  hoiiUred  and  ninety  thousand  francs  that  jfou 


want.  Ah  well  !  following  the  clause  of  the  will, 
this  sum  is  set  apart  for  the  son.  I  order  you  to 
give  it  to  him  ;  the  ten  thousand  francs  remaning 
are  therefore  yours."  They  were  obliged  to  submit. 
— /^.  AI.  Taylor. 

10.  Its  folly. 

(415.)  I  doubt  not  many  covetous  men  take  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  in  ruminating  upon  their 
wealth,  and  in  recounting  what  they  have ;  but 
they  have  a  great  deal  of  tormenting  care  and  fear 
about  it,  and  if  they  had  not,  it  is  very  hard  to 
understand  where  the  reasonable  pleasure  and 
happiness  lies  of  having  things  to  no  end.  It  is,  at 
the  best,  like  that  of  some  foolish  birds,  which, 
they  say,  take  pleasure  in  stealing  money,  that  they 
may  hide  it  ;  as  if  it  were  worth  the  while  for  men 
to  take  pains  to  dig  silver  out  of  the  earth,  for  no 
other  purpose  but  to  melt  it  down  and  stamp  it, 
and  bury  it  there  again. 

—  Tillotson,  1 630-1 694. 

(416.)  A  covetous  man  is  like  a  dog  in  a  wheel, 
that  roasteth  meat  for  others.  — E.  Cook. 

11.  Its  misery. 

(417.  Poverty  is  in  want  of  much,  but  avarice 
of  everything.  — Pubiius  Syius. 

(418.)  What  can  be  more  miserable,  than  for  a 
man  to  toil  and  labour  his  whole  life,  and  to  have 
no  power  to  enjoy  any  fruit  of  his  labours?  to  bear 
like  an  ass  a  golden  burden  all  the  day,  and, 
without  any  further  use  of  it,  at  night  to  iiave  it 
taken  away,  reserving  nothing  to  himself  but  a 
galled  conscience?  — Downaiiie,  1644. 

12.  Its  odlousness. 

(419.)  It  is  a  common  saying  that  a  hog  is  good 
for  nothing  whilst  he  is  alive  :  not  good  to  bear  or 
carry,  as  the  horse  ;  nor  to  draw,  as  the  ox  ;  nor  to 
clothe,  as  the  sheep  ;  nor  to  give  milk,  as  the  cow  ; 
nor  to  keep  the  house,  as  the  dog  ;  but  ad  solam 
mortem  nutritiii-  (fed  only  to  the  slaughter).  So  a 
covetous  rich  man,  just  like  a  hog,  doth  no  goc<i 
with  his  riches  whilst  he  liveth,  but  when  he  it 
dead  his  riches  come  to  be  disposed  of.  "  Therkha 
oj  a  sinner  are  laid  up  for  the  just." 

—  IVillet,  156^-1621. 

(420.)  The  avaricious  man  is  like  the  barren, 
sandy  ground  of  the  desert,  which  sucks  in  all  the 
rain  and  dews  with  greediness,  but  yields  no  fruit- 
ful  herbs  or  plants  for  the  benefit  of  others. 

13.  Inconsistent  with  the  hope  of  salvation. 

(421.)  If  a  man,  sick  on  his  bed,  burning  of  a 
fever,  fetching  his  breath  with  straightness  and 
shortness,  looking  like  earth,  say  he  is  well  in 
health,  we  do  not  believe  him  :  so  if  we  see  men 
swelling  with  pride,  flaming  with  lust,  looking 
earthy  with  covetousness,  and  yet  flattering  them- 
selves with  hope  of  salvation,  we  cannot  credit 
them,  all  the  world  cannot  save  them. 

— Adams,  1 654. 

14.  Excludes  from  heaven. 

(422.)  The  covetous  is  like  a  camel,  with  a  great 
hunch  on  his  back  ;  heaven's  gate  must  be  made 
higher  and  broader,  or  he  will  hardly  get  in. 

— AdatnSf  l654> 


BACKSLIDERS. 


K  yo  ) 


BACKSLIDERS. 


BACKSLIDERS. 

1.  Should  be  regarded  witU  compassion, 

(423.)  The  story  of  Hagar  with  her  son  Ishmael 
is  set  down  by  so  heavenly  a  pen,  that  a  man  cannot 
read  it  without  tears.     She  is  cast  out  of  Abraham's 
house  with   her  child,   that  might  call   her  master 
father.     Bread  and  water  is  put  on  her  shoulder, 
and  she  wanders  into  the  wilderness  ;  a  poor  relief 
for  so  long  a  journey,   to  which  there  was  set  no 
date  of  returning.     Soon  was  the  water  spent  in  the 
bottle  ;  the  child  cries  for  drink  to  her  that  had   it 
not,  and  lifts  up  pitiful  eyes,  every  glance  whereof 
was  enough  to  wound  her  soul  ;  vents  the  sighs  of 
a  dry  and   panting  heart ;  but  there  is  no  water  to 
be    had,    except    the    tears   that    ran  down  from  a 
sorrowful    mother's   eyes   could    quench   its    thirst. 
Down  she  lays  the  child  under  a  shrub,  and  went, 
as  heavy  as  ever  mother  parted  from  her  only  son, 
and  sal  her  down  upon  the  earth,  as  if  she  desired  it 
for  a  present  receptacle  of  her  grief,  of  herself;   "a 
good  way  oft,"  saith  the  text,    "as  it  were  a  bow- 
shot," that  the  shrieks,  yellings,  and  dying  groans 
of  the  cliild  might  not  reach  lier  ears  ;  crying  out, 
"  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the  child."     Die  she 
knew  he  must,  but  as  if  the  beholding  it  would  rend 
her  heart  and  wound  her  soul,  slie  denies  those  win- 
dows so  sad   a  spectacle  :    "  Let   me   not  see  the 
death  of  the  child.     So  she  lift  up  her  voice  and 
wept."      Never   was   llagar  so  pitiful   to  her  son 
Ishmael,  as  the  Church  is  to  every  Christian.     If 
any  son  of  her  womb  will  wander  out  of  Abraham's 
family,    the  house  of  faith,   into  the  wilderness  of 
this    world,    and   prodigally   part    with    his    "own 
merry "  for    the   gaudy,   transient   vanities  thereof, 
she  follows  with  entreaties  to  him  and  to  heaven 
for  him.     If  he  will  not  return,  she  is  loath  to  see 
his  death  ;  she  turns  her  back  upon  him,  and  weeps. 
He  that  can   with  dry  eyes  and   unrelenting  heart 
behold  a  man's  soul  ready  to  perish,   hath  not  so 
much   passion  and   compassion    as    that    Egyptian 
bondwoman.  — Adams,  1654. 

2.  God's  compassion  for  them. 
(424.)  He   pities   the    backslider;    just    as    the 

general  on  the  field  of  battle  pities  tlie  wounded 
who  are  carried  bleeding  by  their  comrades  to  the 
rear.  "  Go  and  proclaim  these  words  towards  the 
north,  and  say.  Return,  thou  backsliding  Israel, 
saith  the  Lord,  and  I  will  not  cause  mine  anger  to 
lall  upon  you  ;  for  I  am  merciful,  sailh  the  Lord, 
and  1  will  not  keep  anger  for  ever."    — Macduff. 

3.  Their  duty. 
(425.)  The  Christian's  care  should  be  to  get  his 

armour  speedily  repaired  ;  a  haltered  helmet  is  next 
to  no  helmet  in  point  of  piesent  use;  grace  in 
decay  is  like  a  man  pulled  off  his  legs  by  sickness  ; 
if  some  means  be  not  used  to  recover  it,  little 
service  will  be  done  by  it,  or  comfort  received  from 
it.  Therefore  Christ  gives  the  Church  of  Ephesus 
(to  whom  Paul  wrote  the  Epistle)  ihis  counsel  : 
"To  remember  from  whence  she  was  fallen,  to 
repent,  and  do  her  first  works."  — Waiter. 

4.  What  reclaimed  backsliders  ate  to  do  with 
their  "  old  hope." 

(426.)  One  01  the  very  first  questions,  where 
persons  have  been  professors  of  religion,  and  have 
for  various  reasons  backslidden  and  declined  into  a 
carnal  and  secular  iue,  and  their  moral  sense  and 
conscience  have  begun  to  be  quickened,  always  is, 


'*  What  shall  I  do  with  my  old  hope  ?  "  One  would 
think,  from  their  talk,  that  a  hope  was  a  literal, 
visible,  tangible  thing,  like  a  title-deed,  and  that, 
however  one's  old  hope  may  have  been  neglected, 
when  he  starts  again  he  must  connect  it  with  his 
new  hope,  or  else  there  will  be  a  flaw  in  the 
title  ! 

My  own  impression  about  this  is,  that  an  old 
hope  is  just  like  the  Jews'  manna  on  the  second 
day.  It  is  said,  if  I  remember  correctly,  that  it 
stank.  The  Lord  did  not  let  them  pick  up  manna 
for  more  than  one  day.  If  any  of  them  thought 
they  would — if  any  of  them,  greedy,  as  men  are 
now-a-days,  picked  up  enough  for  two  days,  it 
stank  in  their  vessels.  I  think  our  hope  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  to  be  gathered  up  every  day 
fresh,  and  that  if  any  man  undertakes  to  keep  it, 
it  spoils  in  the  keeping.  And  whether  a  man 
thinks  he  has  been  a  Christian  or  not,  and  whether 
he  has  been  deceived  or  not,  has  little  to  do,  it 
seems  to  me,  with  his  present  duty. 
Let  me  put  a  case  to  you — 

A  man  has  learned  to  read  of  a  very  poor  master. 
He  makes  up  his  mind  that  he  will  take  lessons  of  a 
rhetorical  teacher.  He  takes  his  book  and  reads, 
and  as  he  reads,  drawls  his  words  and  runs  ihem 
together,  and  makes  bad  work  of  it  generally  ;  and 
the  teacher  says  :  "  Stop  !  stop!  stop  !  What  sort 
of  reading  is  that  ?  That  vvill  never  do  in  the 
world.  You  are  no  reader  at  all."  And  the  man 
says,  "Then  I  suppose  I  must  go  back  and  read 
my  A  B  C's  again."  He  has  already  learned  them  ; 
he  simply  reads  poorly,  without  proper  emphasis, 
without  any  appreciation  of  the  sense,  and  without 
indicating  the  pauses  ;  and  what  has  he  to  do  but 
to  start  where  he  is,  and  do  the  right  and  best 
thing  ? 

Suppose  a  man  h^s  been  prescribing  for  himself 
for  some  ailment,  and  finding  that  he  is  getting  no 
better,  he  calls  a  doctor,  and  the  tloctor  says,  "  You 
have  been  mistaken  about  yourself;  you  have  not 
understood  your  own  symptoms ;  you  have  em- 
ploy-ii  improper  remedies  ;  you  have  not  hit  the 
difficulty  at  all ;  you  have  aggravated  your  trouble" 
— would  there  be  anything  for  that  man  to  do 
except  to  stop  just  where  he  was,  and  take  the  new 
course,  that  under  skilful  direction,  would  lead  to 
entire  sanative  restoration? 

Now,  it  is  precisely  so  in  religious  matters.  A 
man  who  has  begun  a  Christian  life,  and  stopped  ; 
or  a  man  who  has  begun  a  Christian  life,  and  gone 
through  devious  and  circuitous  ways  till  he  is  quite 
out  of  the  right  path  ;  or  a  man  who  has  been 
swept  away  by  worldly  influences  ;  such  a  man,  the 
moment  he  comes  to  himself,  says,  or  should  say, 
"There  is  but  one  course  for  me."  Right  there, 
where  he  is,  without  stopping  to  think  of  the  past 
or  anything  relating  to  it,  he  should  begin  to  live  a 
humble,  loving,  obedient  life  to  the  Lord  Jeius 
Christ.  Standing  right  in  his  tracks,  he  is  to  begin 
there  and  then,  and  just  as  he  is,  as  though  he  had 
never  had  any  hope  or  known  anything  about 
religion.  Throw  away  all  the  hope  you  ever  had, 
and  lake  a  new  one. 

I  do  not  mean  by  this  to  bring  contempt  upon 
old  ex|)eriences  ;  but  your  transcendent  duty  is  to 
begin  insianily,  in  your  place,  to  fulfil  your  obliga- 
tions toward  (.iod  and  man.  If  you  have  been  a 
Christian  before,  you  will  find  it  out  ;  and  if  you 
have  nevf.r  ij^en  a  Christian,  it  is  time  that  you 
were  one ;  and  in  either  case  the  way  is  not  to  go 


BACKSLIDING. 


(    71    ) 


BE  A  UTY. 


back  and  try  to  analyse  and  test  old  evidences,  but 
to  take  a  new  start,  with  a  new  hope,  and  a  new 
love,  and  a  new  purpose,  for  the  Saviour. 

— Beuher. 


BACKSLIDING.  * 

1.  Its  perilousnesg. 

(427.)  We  find  in  Scripture  many  desperately  sick, 
yet  cured  the  first  time  by  our  Saviour,  liut  where 
do  we  read  in  all  the  Scripture,  where  in  all  the 
Gospel,  of  any  blind  man's  eyes  twice  enlightened? 
of  any  deaf  ears  twice  opened  ?  of  any  tied  tongue 
twice  loosened?  of  any  possessed  with  devils  twice 
dispossessed?  of  any  dead  twice  raised?  No  doubt 
but  that  Christ  could  have  done  it,  but  we  read  not 
that  ever  lie  did  it — the  reason,  that  we  should  be 
most  careful  to  avoid  relapses  into  former  sins,  the 
recovery  whereof  is  very  uncertain,  always  difficult, 
and  in  some  cases,  as  the  apostle  teacheth,  impos- 
sible. — Alphonoiis  ab  Avendanus,  1590. 

2.  Is  gradual  in  its  progress. 

(428.)  A  church  is  sometimes  astounded  by  the 
fall  of  some  professor  in  it  ;  this  is  the  fruit,  not  the 
seed  or  the  beginning,  of  backsliding.  So  a  man 
is  laid  on  a  side  bed,  but  the  disorder  has  only  now 
arrived  at  its  crisis,  it  has  for  some  time  been  work- 
ing in  his  system,  and  has  at  last  burst  out  and  laid 
him  low.  So  the  sin  of  departing  from  God,  and 
secretly  declining,  has  been  going  on  while  the  pro- 
fession has  still  been  maintained — the  process  of 
backsliding  has  been  working  silently,  yet  sjirely, 
until  a  temptation  has  at  last  opened  the  way  for  its 
bursting  forth,  to  the  scandal  of  God's  people  and 
true  religion.  "  He  that  despiseth  small  things 
shall  fall  by  little  and  little."  In  the  sight  of  God 
the  man  was  fallen  before,  we  only  uoau  ha\e  first 
discovered  it.  — Suite/,  1840. 

3.  Is  most  frequently  due  to  Indulgence  in  little 
Bins. 

(429.)  There  is  many  a  man  who  evinces,  for  a 
lime,  a  steadfast  attention  to  religion,  walking  with 
»11  care  in  the  path  of  God's  commandments,  &c., 
but  who,  after  awhile,  declines  from  spirituality,  and 
is  dead,  though  he  may  yet  have  a  name  to  live. 
But  how  does  it  commonly  happen  that  such  a  man 
falls  away  from  the  struggle  for  salvation?  Is  it 
ordinarily  through  some  one  powerful  and  undis- 
guised assault  that  he  is  turned  from  the  faith,  or 
over  one  huge  obstacle  that  he  falls  not  to  rise 
again  ?  Not  so.  It  is  almost  invariably  through 
little  things.  He  fails  to  take  notice  of  little  things, 
and  they  accumulate  into  great.  He  allows  him- 
self in  little  things,  and  thus  forms  a  strong  habit. 
He  relaxes  in  little  things,  and  thus  in  time  loosens 
every  bond.  Because  it  is  a  little  thing,  he  counts 
it  of  little  moment,  utterly  forgetting  that  millions 
are  made  up  of  units,  that  immensity  is  constituted 
of  atoms.  Because  it  is  only  a  stone,  a  pebble, 
against  which  his  foot  strikes,  he  makes  light  of  the 
hindrance  ;  not  caring  that  he  is  contracting  a  habit 
of  stumbling,  or  of  observing  that  whenever  he  trips 
there  must  be  some  diminution  in  the  speed  with 
which  he  runs  the  way  of  God's  commandments, 
and  that,  however  slowly,  these  diminutions  are 
certainly  bringing  him  to  a  stand. 

The  astronomer  tells  us,  that,  because  they  move 
in  a  resisting  medium,  which  perhaps  in  a  million 
of  years  destroys  the  millionth  part  of  their  velocity. 


the  heavenly  bodies  will  at  length  cease  from  their 
mighty  march.  May  not,  then,  the  theologian  as- 
sure us  that  little  roughness  in  the  way,  each  retard- 
ing us,  though  in  an  imperceptible  degree,  will 
eventually  destroy  the  onward  movement,  however 
vigorous  and  directed  it  may  at  one  time  have 
seemed  ?  Would  to  God  that  we  could  persuade 
you  of  the  peril  of  little  offences  !  We  are  not  half 
as  much  afraid  of  your  hurting  the  head  against  a 
rock,  as  of  your  hurting  the  foot  against  a  stone. 
There  is  a  sort  of  continued  attrition,  resulting  from 
our  necessary  intercourse  with  the  world,  which  of 
itself  deadens  the  movements  of  the  soul ;  there  is, 
moreover,  a  continued  temptation  to  yield  in  little 
points,  under  the  notion  of  conciliating  ;  to  indulge 
in  little  things,  to  forego  little  strictnesses,  to  omit 
little  duties  ;  and  all  with  the  idea  that  what  looks 
so  light  cannot  be  of  real  moment.  And  by  these 
littles,  thousands,  tens  of  thousands,  perish.  If 
they  do  not  come  actually  and  openly  to  a  stand, 
they  stumble  and  stumble  on,  getting  more  and 
more  careless,  nearer  and  nearer  to  indifference, 
lowering  the  Christian  standards,  suffering  religion 
to  be  peeled  away  by  inches,  persuading  themselves 
that  they  can  spare  without  injury  such  inconsider- 
able bits,  and  not  perceiving  that  in  stripping  the 
bark  they  stop  the  sap.        — Alelvill,  1798-1871. 


BEAUTY. 

1.    NATURAL  BEAUTY, 

1.  A  revelation  of  God. 

(430.)  We  cannot  look  round  us  without  being 
struck  by  the  surprising  variety  and  multiplicity  of 
the  sources  of  beauty  of  creation,  produced  by  form, 
or  by  colour,  or  by  bofh  united.  It  is  scarcely  too 
much  to  say,  that  every  object  in  nature,  animate  or 
inanimate,  is  in  some  manner  beautiful :  so  largely 
has  the  Creator  provided  for  our  pleasures  through 
the  sense  of  sight.  It  is  one  of  the  revelations 
which  the  Creator  has  made  of  Himself  to  man. 
He  was  to  be  admired  and  loved  :  it  was  through 
the  demonstrations  of  His  character  that  we  could 
alone  see  Him  and  judge  of  Him  :  and  in  thus  in- 
ducing or  compelling  us  to  admire  and  love  the 
visible  works  of  His  hand.  He  has  taught  us  to  love 
and  adore  Himself.  — Macailloch,  1773. 

{431.)  Never  lose  an  opportunity  of  seeing  any- 
thing beautiful.  Beauty  is  God's  handwriting — a 
wayside  s.icrament  ;  welcome  it  in  every  fair  face, 
every  fair  sky,  every  fair  flower,  and  thank  Ilira 
earnestly  with  your  eyes.  It  is  a  charming  draught, 
a  cup  of  blessing. 

2.  The  love  of  beauty. 

(432.)  It  was  a  very  proper  answer  to  him  who 
asked  why  any  man  should  be  delighted  with 
beauty,  that  it  was  a  question  that  none  but  a  blind 
man  could  ask.      — Lord  Clai-endon,  160S-1613. 

3.  Its  moral  uses. 

(433.)  How  can  a  man  consent  to  indulge  in  the 
beautiful  while  the  world  is  lying  in  wickedness  ? 
How  can  a  man  take  his  time,  and  strength,  and 
means,  and  employ  them  upon  himself,  when  he 
should  give  them  to  the  world  ?  What  is  a  man  as 
a  moral  agent,  as  a  neighbour,  as  a  benefactor? 
What  does  he  bring  to  work  with  but  his  educated 


BE  A  UTY. 


(    72    ) 


BELIEF, 


powers?  And  if  the  beautiful  is  an  educator;  if  it 
makes  a  man  diviner,  richer,  sweeter  ;  if  at  every 
point  where  he  touches  men  it  augments  the  volume 
of  his  moral  influence ;  if  it  makes  him  a  more 
potential  advocate  of  truth  in  the  world,  then  in- 
dulgence in  it  is  part  and  parcel  of  that  education 
which  qualifies  him  to  be  most  useful  among  his 
fellow-men. 

Here  is  a  man  of  the  olden  time  that  is  about  to 
go  down  to  battle  ;  and  his  Christian  friends  and 
associates  say  to  him,  "How  can  you  waste  your 
means  in  buying  your  helmet,  and  corselet,  and 
arm-plates  ?  How  can  you  spend  so  much  money 
for  your  sword  and  spear  ?  "  Why,  his  power  as  a 
warrior  lies  in  these  things.  And  a  man  that  goes 
into  life  with  all  forms  of  coarseness,  and  selfishness, 
and  wickedness,  is  like  a  warrior  that  goes  into 
battle  without  his  sword,  and  spear,  and  helmet, 
and  corselets,  and  arm-plates  ;  and  what  he  acquires 
from  books,  from  works  of  art,  from  his  contact  with 
the  higher  influences  that  surround  liim,  fit  him  for 
a  better  discharge  of  the  duties  which  devolve  upon 
him  ;  and  his  power  to  do  good  is  to  be  measured  by 
the  amount  that  he  has  in  him,  as  a  result  of  the  edu- 
cation which  he  has  received  by  reason  of  these  things. 
And  if  it  is  said,  "  How  can  you,  while  the  whole 
world  is  lying  in  wickedness,  indulge  in  beauty  ?  " 
I  say.  The  world  being  in  wickedness,  I  am  going 
to  educate  myself  in  beauty,  that  I  may  be  the  better 
fitted  to  elevate  it  out  of  that  wickedness.  The 
beautiful  is  one  of  the  elements  with  which  I  am  to 
familiarise  myself,  in  order  that  I  may  the  more 
successfully  engage  in  this  work.  God  educates 
men  for  labouring  in  His  kingdon  on  earth  by 
spreading  out  before  them  the  beauties  which  He 
has  created  in  the  natural  world.  The  beautiful, 
therefore,  may  be  made  a  moral  instructor,  and  it 
may  make  the  soul  of  man  powerful  ;  so  that  in- 
dulgence in  it,  instead  of  being  selfish,  is  a  part  of 
one  s  lawful  education.  —Beecher, 

II.    PERSONAL  BEAUTY. 
1.  Overrated. 

{434.)  I  cannot  understand  the  importance  which 
certain  people  set  upon  outward  beauty  or  plainness. 
1  am  of  opinion  that  all  true  education,  such  at  least 
as  has  a  religious  foundation,  must  infuse  a  noble 
calm,  a  wholesome  coldness,  an  indifference,  or 
whatever  people  may  call  it,  towards  such-like  out- 
ward gifts,  or  the  want  of  them.  And  who  has  not 
experienced  of  how  little  consequence  they  are  in 
fact  for  the  weal  or  woe  of  life?  Who  has  not 
experienced  how,  on  nearer  acquaintance,  plainness 
becomes  beautified,  and  beauty  loses  its  charm, 
exactly  according  to  the  quality  of  the  heart  and 
mind  ?  And  from  this  cause  am  I  of  opinion  that 
the  want  of  outward  beauty  never  disquiets  a  noble 
nature  or  will  be  regarded  as  a  misfortune.  It  never 
can  prevent  people  from  being  amiable  and  beloved 
in  the  highest  degree ;  and  we  have  daily  proof  of 
this.  — FredaHka  Bremer. 

S.  Not  In  Itself  a  matter  for  pride. 

(435.)  Is  it  beauty  that  you  are  proud  of?  I  have 
told  you  what  sickness  and  death  will  do  to  that 
before.  "  When  God  rebuketh  man  for  sin.  He 
maketh  his  beauty  to  consume  away  as  a  moth  ; 
Burely  every  man  is  vanity."  And  if  your  beauty 
would  continue,  how  little  good  will  it  do  you  ? 
and  vr  10  but  fools  do  lock  %X  the  skin  of  a  rational 


creature,  when  they  would  discern  its  worth? 
a  fool,  and  a  slave  of  lust,  and  Satan,  may  be  beauti- 
ful. A  sepulchre  may  be  gilded  that  hath  rottenness 
within.  Will  you  choose  the  finest  purse,  or  tha 
fullest  ?  Who  but  a  child  or  a  fool  will  value  his 
book  by  the  fineness  of  the  cover,  or  gilding  of  the 
leaves,  and  not  by  the  worth  of  the  matter  within? 
Absalom  was  beautiful,  and  what  the  better  was  he? 
"  Favour  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain  ;  but  a 
woman  that  feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  praised." 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

8.  Mere  physical  beauty  Is  morally  wortliless. 

(436.)  A  beautiful  person  without  true  grace,  i* 
but  a  fair  stinking  weed  ;  you  know  the  best  of 
such  a  one,  if  you  look  on  him  furthest  off;  where- 
as a  sincere  heart,  without  this  outward  beauty  to 
commend  it,  is  like  some  sweet  flower  (not  painted 
with  such  fine  colours  on  the  leaves)  better  in  the 
hand  than  eye,  to  smell  on,  than  look  on  ;  the  nearer 
you  come  to  the  sincere  soul,  the  better  you  find 
him.  Outward  uncomeliness  to  true  grace,  is  but 
as  some  old  mean  buildings  you  sometimes  see  stand 
before  a  goodly  stately  house,  which  hide  its  glory 
only  from  the  traveller  that  passeth  by  at  some 
distance  ;  but  he  that  comes  in,  sees  its  beauty,  and 
admires  it.  — Gumall,  1617-1679. 

4.  Transitory. 

(437.)  Beauty,  what  is  it,  but  a  dash  of  nature's 

tincture  laid  upon  the  skin,  which  is  soon  washed 

off  with  a  little  sickness?  what,  but  a  fair  blossom 

which,  with  one  hot  sun-gleam,  weltereth  and  falls? 

— Hall,  1574-1656. 


BELIEF. 

1,  On  what  ground  Is  It  to  rest  T 

(438.)  If  the  opinions  of  others  whom  we  think 
well  of  be  a  ground  of  assent,  men  have  reason  to 
be  Heathens  in  Japan,  Mahometans  in  Turkey, 
Papists  in  Spain,  and  Protestants  in  England. 

— Locke,  1632-1704. 

2.  By  what  It  Is  determined. 

(439).  It  seems  to  be  a  law  of  the  intellect,  that 
belief  necessarily  follows  the  preponderance  of 
apprehended  proof,  as  the  scale  falls  in  which  the 
weight  is  greatest.  We  can  no  more  refuse  to 
believe  what  is  proved,  or  believe  what  is  destitute 
of  apparent  proof,  than  the  eye  can  reject  or  change 
the  forms  and  colours  thrown  by  external  objects 
on  the  retina,  — Jackson, 

8.  We  are  responsible  for  our  belief. 

(440.)  Human  consciousness,  the  judgment  of 
mankind,  and  God,  in  all  we  know  of  Him,  hold 
man  responsible  for  his  belief.  Every  man  has 
within  him  an  indestructible  conviction  of  possess- 
ing a  power  over  his  opinions,  and  a  sense  of 
responsibility  in  reference  to  his  beliefs.  All  men 
avow  a  readiness  to  change  their  opinions  whenever 
they  are  furnished  with  a  sufllicient  reason  for  so 
doing,  and  this  avowal  clearly  implies  the  convic- 
tion on  their  part  of  a  power  in  them  to  do  so.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  all  men  are  very  sensitive  about 
the  light  in  which  their  opinions  are  regarded  by 
others.  They  are  ever  ready  to  show  dissatisfaction 
when  charged  with  holding  unworthy  and  erroneous 
opinions,  and  are  prone  to  resent  all  such  charge% 


BELIEF. 


73    ) 


BELIEF. 


And  why  this  displeasure  and  resentment  if  men  are 
not  conscious  of  possessing  a  power  over  their  beliefs? 
An  individual  may  wish  to  possess  a  different  size 
of  body  or  colour  of  skin,  but  he  is  not  conscious 
of  possessing  a  power  over  them  as  he  knows  he 
possesses  over  his  opinions  and  beliefs.  If  an  in- 
dividual's colour  or  size  subjects  him  to  disadvantage, 
he  feels  the  defects  ;  but  instead  of  expecting  blame 
on  account  of  the  defects,  he  is  rather  an  object  of 
sympathy.  But  man  does  take  shame  to  himself 
when  charged  with  unworthy  beliefs.      — Cooper. 

4.  Importance  of  a  correct  belief. 
(441.)  Mind    and   heart    will   meet,   though  for- 
bidden, like  hidden  lovers.  — Bailey. 

(442.)  Does  it  make  no  difference  what  a  man 
believes  in  respect  to  the  character  of  God,  the 
nature  of  the  r3ivine  government  in  this  world,  its 
claims  upon  us,  and  our  obligations  under  it  ? 

If  a  man  believes  that  God  sits  above,  indifferent 
to  the  aft'airs  of  this  life  and  too  quiescent  to  attend 
to  the  little  disturbances  of  sin,  and  that  He  over- 
looks transgression,  that  man  must  inevital)Iy  come 
to  a  state  of  mora!  indifference.  But  if  a  man 
believes  that  God  cannot  possibly  look  upon  sin 
with  allowance,  that  lie  abhors  iniquity,  and  that, 
unless  we  turn  from  our  wicked  ways,  He  will  lay 
His  hands  on  His  sword,  and  set  Himself  forth  as 
the  maintainer  of  law,  and  justice,  and  integrity, 
that  man  cannot  help  being  morally  solicitous. 
Does  it  make  no  difterence  what  a  man  believes  on 
these  subjects? 

Go  into  New  York,  and  in  the  sixth  ward  you 
will  find  two  representative  men,  one  says,  "  I 
voted  for  the  judge,  and  helped  to  put  him  where 
he  is,  and  he  will  wink  at  my  crimes.  I  can  drink 
as  much  as  I  please,  on  Sundays  and  on  week-days, 
and  he  will  not  disturb  me.  He  is  easy  and  good- 
natured,  and  he  is  not  going  to  be  hard  with  me  if 
I  do  break  the  laws  a  little."  And  the  man,  because 
he  believes  that  the  judge  does  not  care  for  his 
wickedness,  and  will  not  punish  him,  grows  bold 
and  corrupt  in  transgression.  But  at  length  he  is 
arraigned,  he  is  brought  before  the  court,  and  he 
finds  there,  instead  of  the  bribed  judge,  a  white- 
faced  man — not  red-faced  ;  one  of  those  men  with 
a  long  head  upward — not  backward  and  downward  ; 
»  man  with  a  full  sense  of  the  value  of  justice  and 
truth.  The  culprit  begins  his  shuffling  excuses. 
The  justice  listens  to  none  of  them  ;  he  reads  the 
law,  and  says,  "  Your  conduct  is  herein  condemned," 
and  sends  him  away  to  receive  his  just  deserts. 
When  the  man  has  expiated  his  crime,  he  goes 
around  in  the  same  ward,  and  says,  "  You  must 
walk  straight  hereafter.  The  judge  that  sits  on  the 
bench  now  is  not  the  jolly  old  judge  that  used  to 
sit  there.  If  you  go  before  him  he  will  make  you 
smart."  Does  it  not  make  a  difference  what  a  man 
believes  about  a  judge?  If  he  believes  that  he  is 
a  lenient,  conniving  judge,  does  it  not  make  him 
careless?  and  if  he  believes  that  he  is  a  straight- 
forward, just  judge,  does  it  not  make  him  afraid  of 
tiansgression? 

Now  lift  up  the  judge's  bench,  and  make  it  the 
judgment-seat ;  and  take  out  the  human  judge,  and 
put  God  Almighty  there.  If  men  believe  Him  to 
I  be  an  all-smiling  God — a  God  all  sunshine  ;  an  all- 
sympathising  God — a  God  who  is  nothing  but  kind- 
ness, goodness,  and  gentleness,  they  say  to  them- 
■dves   "We  will  do  as  we  have  a  mind  to  do." 


Take  away  that  miserable  slander  upon  the  revealed 
character  of  God,  and  lift  up  the  august  front  of 
Justice,  on  whose  brow  love  proudly  sits,  and  let 
men  see  that  there  is  a  vast  heart  of  love  and  gentle- 
ness indeed,  but  one  that  will  by  no  means  clear 
the  guilty,  and  they  will  take  more  heed  to  their 
conduct.  Does  it,  then,  make  no  difference  what 
a  man  believes  about  God's  nature,  and  His  manner 
of  dealing  with  men  ?  It  makes  all  the  difference 
between  laxity  and  earnestness,  between  an  endeav- 
our to  live  truly  and  no  endeavour  at  all  in  that 
direction  ;  between  right  and  wrong  conduct. 

Let  us,  then,  look  at  this  a  little  in  the  light  of 
the  experience  of  men  in  this  world.  In  regard  to 
the  truths  of  the  physical  economy  of  the  globe, 
does  it  make  any  difference  what  a  man  believes? 
Would  it  make  any  difference  to  a  macliinist  whether 
he  thought  lead  was  as  good  for  tools  as  steel? 
Would  it  make  any  difference  to  a  man  in  respect 
to  the  industries  of  life  if  he  thought  that  a  triar  gle 
was  as  good  as  a  circular  wheel  in  machinery?  In 
respect  to  the  quality  of  substance,  the  forms  of 
substances,  the  combination  of  substances,  and  the 
nature  of  motive  powers,  does  success  depend  upon 
sincere  believing  or  on  right  believing?  Suppose 
a  man  should  think  that  it  made  no  difference  what 
he  believed,  and  should  say  to  himself,  "  I  wish  to 
raise  corn,  but  I  have  not  the  seed  ;  so  I  will  take 
some  ashes  and  plant  them  ;  and  I  believe  sincerely 
that  they  are  as  good  as  corn  " — would  he  have  a 
crop  of  corn?  What  would  his  sincerity  avail? 
The  more  sincere  he  was  the  worse  it  would  be  for 
him  ;  for  if  he  were  not  sincere  he  might  slip  away 
and  get  a  little  corn,  and  plant  that.  In  all  material 
things,  the  more  sincere  you  are,  if  you  are  right, 
the  better  ;  but  the  more  sincere  you  are  if  you  are 
wrong,  the  worse.  In  the  latter  case,  sincerity  i< 
the  mallet  that  drives  home  the  mischief. 

How  is  it  in  respect  to  commercial  matters?  Just 
now  a  great  many  are  manufacturing  things  for  the 
army.  Does  it  make  no  difference  whether  a  man 
thinks  that  corn-stalks  and  sticks  are  as  good  as 
muskets?  Does  it  make  no  difference  whether  a 
man  thinks  that  cotton  and  wool,  dust  and  sweep- 
ings, are  as  good  for  blankets  as  real  wool?  Does 
it  make  no  difference  with  the  sale  of  man's  goods, 
whether  they  are  manufactured  of  one  material  or 
another?  If  a  business  man  believes  right  in  respect 
to  his  business,  he  prospers;  and  if  he  believes  wrong 
he  does  not  prosper. 

How  is  it  in  respect  to  navigation  ?  Does  any 
man  say,  "  I  have  my  own  theories  about  astronomy, 
and  I  will  sail  my  ship  according  to  them  ?  I  do 
not  believe  the  talk  of  the  books  on  this  subject ; 
and  it  does  not  make  much  difference  what  a  man 
believes  respecting  it."  Does  it  make  no  difference 
what  a  man  believes  about  charts?  Suppose  the 
shipmaster  should  say,  "  I  know  the  chart  says  that 
here  are  three  fathoms  of  water,  that  here  are  two, 
and  that  here  is  one,  but  I  do  not  believe  it ;  I  know 
that  my  ship  draws  sixteen  feet  of  water,  but  I 
believe  that  I  can  run  it  over  a  twelve-feet  bar"— 
does  it  make  no  difference  what  he  believes?  It 
makes  all  the  difference  between  shipwreck  and 
safety. 

Throughout  the  whole  realm  of  physical  truth,  a 
man  is  bound  to  believe,  not  only  sincerely,  but 
correctly.  In  business,  in  manufacturing,  in  naviga- 
tion, in  all  things  that  relate  to  the  conduct  of  mea 
in  secular  afiaiis,  men  must  be  right — not  merely 
sincere. 


BELIEF. 


(  n  ) 


BENEFICENCE. 


Take  one  thing  further.  There  are  affectional 
and  social  tniihs.  Does  it  make  no  difference  what 
a  man  believes  in  respect  to  these  ?  Is  there  no 
difference  between  pride,  vanity,  and  selfishness,  on 
the  one  hand,  and  tenderness,  sympathy,  and  love, 
on  the  other?  If  a  man  has  social  intercourse,  does 
it  make  no  difference  what  view  he  takes  of  these 
thiiiijs?  Will  it  make  no  difference  with  his  con- 
duct if  he  thinks  that  pride  and  love  are  about  the 
same  thing,  and  that  one  is  a  proper  substitute  for 
the  otiier  ?  His  sincerity  makes  the  mischief  worse, 
in  such  a  case. 

It  is  only  when  we  come  to  moral  grounds  that 
men  liegin  to  urge  this  maxim  with  any  considerable 
degree  of  confidence.  They  reject  it  in  its  applica- 
tion to  material  truths,  to  physical  sciences,  to 
business,  to  social  intercourse  in  life,  and  hold  the 
necessity  of  correct  belief  It  is  not  until  they  come 
to  religious  truths  that  men  begin  to  say,  "  It  does 
not  make  much  difference  what  a  man  believes." 

Let  us  take  the  lower  forms  of  moral  truth,  and 
see  if  it  is  so  in  our  daily  intercourse.  You  go  to 
church,  and  hear  your  minister  p>-each  about  the 
necessity  of  believing  certain  great  doctrines,  and 
on  your  way  home  you  say,  "  It  is  not  of  so  much 
importance  what  a  man  believes,  if  he  is  only  sincere 
in  it."  When  you  get  home,  you  find  that  there  is 
an  altercation  betvveen  the  boy  and  the  nurse. 
There  is  a  lie  between  them  somewhere.  And  the 
child  calls  back  your  theory,  and  says,  in  respect  to 
the  wrongfulness  of  lying,  "  Father,  I  do  not  think 
il  makes  much  difference  what  on'j  believes,  if  he  is 
only  sincere."  What  do  you  think  about  this  theory 
now? 

You  are  bringing  up  your  children.  You  can 
bring  them  up  to  believe  in  truth  and  honesty,  or 
otherwise.  Do  you  not  desire  to  bring  them  up  to 
believe  that  honesty  is  the  best  policy  ?  Do  you  not 
desire  to  bring  them  up  to  believe  that  purity  stands 
connected  with  their  prosperity  in  after  life  ?  Do  you 
not  feel  the  greatest  solicitude  about  the  teaching  of 
their  minds  ?  Are  you  not  determined  that  they  shall 
be  brought  up  to  distinguish  between  truth  and  lies, 
honour  and  dishonour,  purity  and  impurity,  noble- 
ness and  vulgarity  ?  How  particular  you  are  when  it 
is  moral  truth  applied  to  the  reasoning  of  your  chil- 
dren !  How  long  would  you  keep  a  schoolmaster  or  a 
schoolmistress  in  a  common  school  or  an  academy 
who  held,  in  respect  to  these  subjects,  as  you  hold 
in  respect  to  religious  matters,  that  it  does  not  make 
any  difference  what  a  person  believes? 

As  it  is  with  the  lower  forms  of  moral  truth,  so 
experience  teaches  us  it  is  with  the  higher  forms  of 
moral  truth.  There  is  a  definite  and  heaven- 
appointed  connection  between  the  things  a  man 
holds  to  be  true,  and  the  results  that  follow  in  that 
man's  mind. 

All  truths  are  not  indeed  alike  important,  and  all 
truths  do  not  show  the  effects  of  being  believed  or 
rejected  with  equal  rapidity.  There  are  many  truths 
which  bear  such  a  relation  to  our  evei-yday  life,  that 
the  fruit  of  believing  or  rejecting  appears  almost  at 
once.  These  are  spring  truths,  that  come  up  and 
bear  fruit  early  in  the  season.  There  are  other 
truths  that  require  time  for  working  out  their  results. 
They  are  summer  truths,  and  the  fruit  of  belief  or 
disbelief  does  not  ripen  till  July  or  August.  Other 
truths,  in  respect  to  showing  the  results  of  belief  or 
disbelief,  are  like  late  autumnal  fruits,  that  require 
the  whcle  winter  to  develop  their  proper  juices. 
But  in  Xhz&s  last  the  connection  is  just  as  certain, 


although  it  is  longer  in  making  itself  appear,  as  ic 
the  first,  where  the  distance  between  cause  and  efiect 
is  shortest  and  the  development  is  most  rapid. 

—  Beecher. 

6.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  our  destiny  depends  on 
the  correcmess  of  our  belief. 

(443.)  There  is  the  way  of  salvation,  and  thou 
must  trust  Christ  or  perish;  and  there  is  nothing 
hard  in  it  that  thou  shouldst  perish  if  thou  dost  iK't. 
Here  is  a  man  out  at  sea  ;  he  has  got  a  chart,  and 
that  chart,  if  well  studied,  will,  with  the  help  of  the 
compass,  guide  him  to  his  journey's  end.  The  jiole- 
star  gleams  out  amidst  the  cloud-rifts,  and  that,  too, 
will  help  him.  "  No,"  says  he,  "  I  will  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  your  stars  ;  I  do  not  believe  in  'he 
North  Pole  ;  I  shall  not  attend  to  that  little  thing 
inside  the  box  ;  one  needle  is  as  good  as  another 
needle  ;  I  do  not  believe  in  your  rul)bish,  and  I  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  it  is  only  a  lot  of  non- 
sense got  up  by  people  on  purpose  to  make  money, 
and  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it."  The  man 
does  not  get  to  shore  anywhere  ;  he  drifts  about, 
but  never  reaches  port,  and  he  says  it  is  a  very  hard 
thing,  a  very  hard  thing.  I  do  not  think  so.  So 
some  of  you  say,  "  Well  I  am  not  going  to  read 
your  Bible  ;  I  am  not  going  to  listen  to  your  talk 
about  Jesus  Christ  ;  I  do  not  believe  in  such  things." 
You  will  be  damned,  then,  sir  !  '"  That's  very  hard," 
say  you.  No,  it  is  not.  It  is  not  more  so  than  the 
fact  that  if  you  reject  the  compass  and  the  pole-star 
you  will  not  get  to  your  journey's  end.  If  a  man 
will  not  do  the  thing  that  is  necessary  to  a  certain 
end  I  do  not  see  how  he  can  expect  to  gain  that 
end.  You  have  taken  poison,  and  the  physician 
brings  an  antidote,  and  says,  "  Take  it  quickly,  or 
you  will  die  ;  but  if  you  take  it  qinckly,  I  will 
guarantee  that  the  poison  will  be  neutralised." 
But  you  say,  "  No,  doctor,  I  do  not  believe  it  ;  let 
everything  take  its  course  ;  let  every  tub  stand  on 
its  own  bottom  ;  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
you,  doctor."  "  Well,  sir,  you  will  die,  and  when 
tl;e  coroner's  inquest  is  held  on  your  body,  the 
verdict  will  be,  'Served  him  right!'"  So  will  it 
be  with  you  if,  having  heard  the  gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  you  say,  "Oh  !  pooh-pooh  !  I  am  too  much 
of  a  common-sense  man  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
that,  and  1  shall  not  attend  to  it."  Then,  when 
you  perish,  the  verdict  given  by  your  conscience, 
which  will  sit  upon  the  King's  quest  at  last,  will  'o . 
a  verdict  of  "  t'elo-de-se" — "  he  destroyed  himself." 
So  says  the  old  Book — "  O  Israel,  thou  hast  de- 
stroyed thyself !  "  — i>J>urgeon. 


BENEFICENCE. 

1.  Our  duty. 

(444. )  The  sun  shines  on  the  moon  and  stars,  and 
they  shine  upon  the  earth  ;  so  doth  God  shine  in 
goodness  upon  us,  that  we  might  shine  in  our  exten- 
sions of  goodness  unto  others,  especially  unto  them 
of  the  household  of  faith.        — ^iio^s,  1577-1635. 

(445.)  Faith,  though  it  hath  sometimes  a  trem- 
bling hand,  it  must  not  have  a  withered  hand,  but 
must  stretcii.  — IVatson,  1696. 

2.  God's  rules  for  Its  exercise. 

(446.)  The  measures  that  God  marks  out  to  thy 
rharity  are  these  :  thy  superfluities  must  give  place 
to  thy  neighbour's  great  convenience ;  thy  conveni- 


BENEFICENCE. 


(    75    ) 


BENEFICENCE. 


ence  must  yield  to  thy  neighbour's  necessity  ;  and, 
lastly,  thy  very  necessities  must  yield  to  thy  neigh- 
bour's extremity,  — South,  1633-1716. 

2.  Its  dlstastefulness  to  the  Insincere. 

(4.^7.)  When  men  meet  together  at  a  tavem  to 
drink  or  feast  together,  happy  is  that  man,  when 
the  reckoning  is  brought,  that  can  be  rid  of  his 
money  first  :  "  I'll  i>ay,"  says  one  ;  "  I'll  pay,"  says 
another;  "You  shall  not  pay  a  penny,"  says  a 
third,  "I'll  pay  all,"  &c.  ;  and  so  it  grows  some- 
times near  unto  a  quarrel,  because  one  man  cannot 
spend  his  money  before  another.  Thus  in  meiry- 
making,  but  come  to  a  work  of  mercy,  how  is  it 
then  ?  Is  the  money  upon  the  table  ?  Is  every  man 
ready  to  throw  down,  and  make  it  a  leatling  ca--e 
to  the  rest  of  the  company?  No  such  matter  ;  one 
puts  it  off  to  another  :  "  Alas  !  I  am  in  debt,"  says 
one  ;  "  I  have  no  money  about  me,''  says  another  ; 
then  every  finger  is  a  thumb,  and  it  is  such  a  while 
before  anything  will  begot  out,  that  it  would  trouble 
any  one  to  behold  it.  Then  the  question  is  not  who 
shall  be  first,  but  who  shall  be  last.  A  sad  thing 
that,  in  way  of  courtesy,  any  man  should  be  tluis 
free,  and  when  it  comes  to  a  work  of  mercy,  thus 
bound  up.  — IJariis,  I  578-1658. 

(448.)  Two  pious  sisters,  Desire  and  Prayer,  one 
day  visited  a  certain  personage  by  the  name  of 
Pocket. 

The  same  was  a  member  of  a  large  and  influential 
family  of  Pockets  ;  some  of  whom  were  of  a  most 
generous  disposition,  free  in  giving  and  liberal  in 
every  good  cause  that  sought  sujiport  ;  whilst  some 
others  were  remarkable  for  their  narrowness  of  mind, 
and  therefore  indisposition  toward  any  charity,  how- 
ever worthy,  that  asked  for  aid. 

After  a  little  conversation  on  general  subjects, 
Prayer  remarked  on  the  interest  she  took  in  the 
state  of  the  poor  heathen,  "  perishing  for  lack  of 
knowledge." 

"Oh,  that  they  might  be  saved!"  breathed 
Desire. 

"  Amkn,"  said  Pocket. 

"  I  am  longing  for  liie  day  when  '  the  know'ledge 
of  our  Lord  shall  cover  the  earth,  as  the  wateis 
cover  the  sea  '  "  (Isa  ix.  9  ;  llabk.  ii.  14) ;  remarked 
Desire  with  much  fervency. 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"And,  seeing  such  glorious  time  will  come,  T  felt 
encouraged  to  ask  the  King  so  to  order  events  as 
to  open  the  way  in  such  direction,"  remarked 
Prayer. 

"  Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"  1  have  begged  of  the  King  to  hear  our  daily 
petition,  'Thy  Kingdom  cume'"  (Matt.  xi.  10), 
said  Prayer. 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"  It  is  promised,  that  through  the  Gospel,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  'shall  have  dominion  also  from 
se.i  to  sea,  and  from  the  river  unto  the  ends  of  the 
:arth  '  "  (Ps.  Ixxii.  8),  observed  Desire. 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 
•  "How  is  it  to  be  brought  to  pass?"  asked 
Prayer  ;  to  which  Desire  replied,  "  By  the  blessing 
jf  God  on  the  united  efTiirts  of  the  Church,  and 
the  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit  ; — Oh,  that  the 
day  were  come  !" 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

" '  Ask  of  me,  and  I  shall  give  thee  the  heathen 
for  thine  inheritance,  and  the  utt«  rmost  parts  of  the 


earth  for  thy  possession ' "  (Ps.  ii.  8),  said  Desire, 
in  the  words  of  promise  unto  Prayer. 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"God  alone  can  effect  this  mercy,"  said  Desire  | 
"and  that  He  may  bless  11  is  Word  preached  to 
the  perishing,  in  order  'that  they  may  be  saved,"  we 
must  send  them  men  after  God's  own  heart." 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"  Which  good  servants  of  the  Lord  must  be  sus- 
tained in  tht'ir  great  work,"  observed  Desire. 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"They  are  men  subject  to  human  infirmities; 
who  require  habitations  ;  who  hunger  and  thirst,  and 
need  fcjod  and  raiment  :  and  I  trust  waim  hearts 
ami  liberal  friends  will  be  found  to  adiiiinisicr 
according  to  their  wants;  knowing  'the  labourer 
is  worthy  of  his  hire'"  (Luke  x.  7). 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"  We  are  to-day  making  calls  on  the  Benevolent 
to  aid  in  this  glorious  work  of  the  World's  Evan- 
GEIJSA  TioN,"  remarked  Desire  and  Prayer. 

"Amen,"  said  Pocket. 

"  We  have  therefore  come  to  ask  your  contribu- 
tion for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel,  the  salvation  of 
the  heathen,  and  the  glory  of  the  Redeemer,"  said 
Desire. 

"Ahem  !"  said  Pocket. 

"  The  Work  cannot  be  carried  on  without  money," 
observed  Desire. 

No  reply  from  Pocket. 

"  What  amount  shall  we  say  for  you,  sir?"  asked 
Desire  very  sweetly. 

No  answer  from  Pocket. 

"  You  said  Amen  just  now  to  all  our  matters  of 
petition,"  remarked  Desire  and  Prayer  together. 
"The  best  proof  of  your  love  to  the  cause  is  in 
cheerfully  assisting  its  supi)ort,  and  therefore 
giving  as  the  Lord  in  Ills  mercy  has  prospered 
yourself." 

"  Cannot  afford  it,  really,"  at  last  Pocket  answered, 
very  anxious  to  gel  rid  of  his  visitors. 

"Then  after  all  you  wish  us  to  understand,  you 
leave  the  Lord's  cause  to  the  support  of  others, 
and  to  excuse  yourself?" 

"Amen,"  said  i'ocket.  — BowJen. 

3.  Its  wisdom. 

(449.)  It  is  a  base  thing  to  get  goods  to  keep 
them.  I  see  that  God,  who  only  is  infinitely  rich, 
holdeth  nothing  in  His  own  hands,  but  gives  all  to 
His  creatures.  But,  if  we  will  needs  lay  up,  where 
should  we  rather  repose  it,  than  in  tihrist's  treasury  ? 
The  poor  man's  hand  is  the  treasury  of  Christ.  All 
my  superfluity  shall  be  there  hoartled  uji,  where  I 
know  it  shall  be  safely  kept,  and  surely  returned 
me.  —I Jail,  1574-1656. 

(450.)  The  world  teacheth  me  that  it  is  madness 
to  leave  behind  me  those  goods  that  1  may  carry 
with  me.  Christianity  teacheth  me  that  what  I 
chaiitably  give  alive,  1  carry  with  me  dead  ;  and 
experience  teacheth  me  that  what  I  leave  behin<l,  I 
lose.  I  will  carry  that  treasure  with  me  by  giving 
it,  which  the  worldling  ;>.seth  by  keeping  it  ;  so, 
while  his  corpse  shall  carry  nothing  but  a  winding 
cloth  to  his  grave,  I  shall  be  richer  under  the  earth 
than  I  was  above  it.  — Hall,  1574-1656. 

4.  Its  rewards. 

^45 1.)  To  dispense  our  wealth  liberally,  is  the 
best  way  to  preserve  it,   and  to  continue  masters 


BENEFICENCE. 


(     7«    ) 


BENEFICENCE. 


thereof;  what  we  give  is  not  thrown  away,  but 
saved  from  danger  ;  while  we  detain  it  at  home  (as 
it  seems  to  us)  it  really  is  abroad,  and  at  adventures  ; 
it  is  out  at  sea,  sailing  perilously  in  storms,  near 
locks  and  shelves,  amongst  pirates  ;  nor  can  it  ever 
be  safe  till  it  is  brought  into  this  port,  or  in-.ured 
this  way  :  when  we  have  bestowed  it  on  the  jioor, 
then  we  have  lodged  it  in  unquestionable  safely  ;  in 
a  place  where  no  rapine,  no  deceit,  no  mishap,  no 
corruption  can  ever  by  any  means  come  at  it.  All 
our  doors  and  bars,  all  our  forces  and  guards,  all 
the  circumspection  and  vigilancy  we  can  use  are  no 
defence  or  security  at  all  in  comparison  to  this  dis- 
posal thereof:  the  poor  man's  stomach  is  a  granary 
for  our  corn  which  never  can  be  exhausted  ;  the 
poor  man's  back  is  a  wardrobe  for  out  clothes 
which  never  can  be  pillaged ;  the  poor  man's 
pocket  is  a  bank  for  our  money  which  never  can 
disapjxiint  or  deceive  us;  all  the  rich  traders  in  the 
world  may  decay  and  break  ;  but  the  poor  man  can 
never  fail,  except  God  Himself  turn  bankrupt  ;  for 
what  we  give  to  the  poor  we  deliver  and  intrust  in 
His  hands,  out  of  which  no  force  can  wring  it,  no 
craft  can  filch  it ;  it  is  laid  up  in  heaven,  whither  no 
thief  can  climb,  and  where  no  moth  or  rust  do  abide. 
In  spite  of  all  the  fortune,  of  all  the  might,  of  all  the 
malice  in  the  world,  the  liberal  man  will  ever  be 
rich,  for  God's  providence  is  his  estate ;  God's 
wisdom  and  power  are  his  defence  ;  God's  love  and 
favour  are  his  reward  ;  God's  Word  is  his  assurance  ; 
who  hath  said  it,  that  "  He  which  givetk  to  tlie  poor 
(hall  not  lack,"  no  vicissitude  therefore  of  things  can 
surprise  Him,  or  find  Him  unfurnished;  no  disaster 
can  impoverish  Him  ;  no  adversity  can  overwhelm 
Him  ;  He  hath  a  certain  reserve  against  all  times 
and  occasions  ;  he  that  ' '  devtseth  liberal  things,  by 
liberal  things  shall  he  stand." 

— Barronv,  1630- 1677. 

(452.)  You  remember  how,  in  the  old  legend, 
St.  Brandan  in  his  northward  voyage  saw  a  man 
sitting  on  an  iceberg,  and  with  horror  recognised 
him  to  be  the  traitor  Judas  ;  and  the  traitor  told 
him  how,  at  Christmas  time,  amid  the  drench  of 
the  burning  lake,  an  angel  had  touched  his  arm  and 
bidden  him  one  hour  to  cool  his  agony  on  an  ice- 
berg in  the  Arctic  sea  ;  and  when  he  asked  the  cause 
of  this  mercy  bade  him  recognise  in  him  the  leper 
to  whom  he  gave  a  cloak  for  shelter  from  the  wind 
in  Jopjia,  and  how  for  that  kind  deed  this  respite 
was  allotted  him.  Let  us  reject  the  ghastly  side  of 
the  legend  and  accept  its  truth,  that  charily  is  better 
than  all  burnt-offering  and  sacrifice. 

— F,  W.  Farrar. 

(453.)  About  twenty-five  years  ago,  a  young  man 
from  the  State  of  Kentucky  took  a  horse-back  ride 
to  Virginia  where  his  father  came  from,  and  on  his 
way  he  met  a  man  and  his  family  moving  West,  so 
poor  that  they  were  almost  reduced  to  starvation. 
He  had  compassion  on  the  wretched  group  and 
gave  them  a  twenty-dollar  bill  with  which  to  reach 
their  journey's  end.  In  about  fifteen  years  the 
young  man  received  a  letter  from  the  man  he  had 
befriended,  saying  he  was  now  a  prosperous 
merchant  in  Southern  Kentucky,  and  enclosing  a 
twenty-dollar  bill  to  repay  his  loan.  After  another 
ten  years,  which  included  the  great  rebellion  and  its 
termination,  he  was  elected  to  the  lower  house  of 
Kentucky  Legislature,  and  being  a  man  of  talent 
and  influence,  was  chosen  Speaker,  during  the  con- 


test for  which,  he  had  noticed  that  a  stranger  and 
one  of  the  other  party,  was  his  strongest  supporter. 
His  curiosi'y  was  aroused  by  this,  and  he  asked  the 
man's  motive,  as  he  never  had  to  his  knowledg'e 
seen  him  before.  "  Sir,"  replied  the  member, 
"  you  will  recall,  when  I  mention  it,  a  little  scene 
that  occurred  when  you  were  a  boy  on  your  way  to 
Virginia.  It  was  you  who  saved  my  wife  from  star- 
vation. She  has  told  me  time  and  again  that  never 
did  a  morsel  of  food  taste  so  sweet — so  utterly 
delicious — as  that  you  gave  her  then.  She  was  but 
six  years  old  at  that  time,  but  when  she  saw  your 
name,  during  the  late  canvass,  among  the  prominent 
probable  candidates  for  the  speakership,  she  laid 
down  the  law  as  to  how  I  was  to  vote.  This  is  all. 
Neither  she  nor  her  father  and  mother,  brothers  and 
sisters,  nor  myself,  can  ever  forget  you." 

6.  Beneficence  toward  man  Is  true  gratitude  to 
God. 

{454.)  "  Charge  them  that  are  rich  in  the  world 
that  they  do  good,  that  they  be  rich  in  good  works." 
The  poor  man  is,  as  it  were,  an  altar  ;  if  we  bring 
our  alms  and  lay  upon  it,  with  such  sacrifices  God 
is  well  pleased.  — Watson,  1696. 

(455.)  A  rich  youth  in  Rome  was  suffering  from 
a  dangerous  illness ;  at  length  he  recovered,  and 
regained  his  health.  Then  he  went  for  the  first 
tin>e  into  the  garden,  feeling,  as  it  were,  born  again  ; 
and  he  was  full  of  joy,  and  praised  God  with  a  loud 
voice.  He  turned  his  face  to  heaven  and  said  :  "  O 
Thou  all-sufficient  Creator,  could  man  recompense 
Thee,  how  willingly  would  I  give  Thee  all  my 
possessions  ! " 

Hermas,  who  was  called  the  herdman,  heard  this, 
and  said  to  the  rich  youth  :  "All  good  gifts  come 
from  above  ;  thither  thou  canst  send  nothing.  Come, 
follow  me." 

The  youth  followed  the  pious  old  man,  who  took 
him  to  a  dark  hut,  where  was  nothing  but  misery 
and  wretchedness.  The  father  was  stretched  on  a 
bed  of  sickness,  the  mother  wept,  the  children  were 
destitute  of  clothing,and  crying  for  bread. 

The  youth  was  deeply  touched.  Hermas  said  : 
"See  here  an  altar  for  thy  sacrifice.  See  here  the 
Lord's  brethren  and  representatives." 

Then  the  rich  youth  assisted  them  bountifully, 
and  provided  for  the  sick  man's  wants.  And  the 
poor  people  blessed  him,  and  called  him  an  angel 
of  God. 

Hermas  smiled,  and  said:  "Thus  turn  always 
thy  grateful  countenance  first  to  heaven  and  then  to 
earth."  — h'.  A,  Kruinmacher, 

6.  It  should  be  wisely  directed. 

(456.)  There  is  perhaps  no  one  quality  that  can 
produce  a  greater  amount  of  mischief  than  may  be 
done  by  thoughtless  good-nature.  For  instance,  if 
any  one  out  of  tenderness  of  heart  and  reluctance  to 
punish,  or  to  discard  the  criminal  and  worthless, 
lets  loose  on  society,  or  advances  to  important  offices, 
mischievous  characters,  he  will  have  a  doubtful 
benefit  on  a  few,  and  do  incalculable  hurt  to 
thousands.  So  also,  to  take  one  of  the  commonest 
and  most  obvious  cases,  that  of  charity  to  the  poor, 
— a  man  of  great  wealth,  by  freely  relieving  all  idle 
vagabonds,  might  go  far  towards  ruining  the  industry, 
and  the  morality,  and  the  prosperity,  of  a  whole 
nation.  "  For  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  careless, 
indiscriminate  alms-giving  does  far  more  harm  than 


BENEFICENCE. 


(    77    ) 


BENEFICENCE. 


good  ;  since  it  encourages  idleness  and  improvidence, 
and  also  imposture.  If  you  give  freely  to  ragged 
and  filthy  street  beggars,  you  are  in  fact  hiring 
people  to  dress  themselves  in  filthy  rags,  and  go 
about  begging  with  fictitious  tales  of  distress.  If, 
on  the  contrary,  you  carefully  inquire  for  and 
relieve  honest  3nd  industrious  persons  who  have 
fallen  into  distress  through  unavoidable  misfortune, 
you  are  not  only  doing  good  to  those  objects,  but 
also  holding  out  an  encouragement  generally  to 
honest  industry. 

"  You  may,  however,  meet  with  persons  who  say, 
•  As  long  as  it  is  my  intention  to  relieve  real  distress, 
my  charity  is  equally  virtuous,  though  the  tale  told 
me  be  a  false  one.  The  impostor  alone  is  to  be 
blamed  who  told  it  me ;  I  acted  on  what  he  said  ; 
and  if  that  is  untrue,  the  fault  is  his,  and  not 
mine.* 

"  Now  this  IS  a  fair  plea,  if  any  one  is  deceived 
after  making  careful  inquiiy  :  "  but  if  he  has  not  taken 
the  trouble  to  do  this,  regarding  it  as  no  concern  of 
his,  you  might  ask  him  how  he  would  act  and  judge 
in  a  case  where  he  is  thoroughly  in  earnest — that  is, 
where  his  own  interest  is  concerned.  Suppose  he 
employed  a  steward  or  other  agent  to  buy  for  him 
a  house,  or  a  horse,  or  any  other  article,  and  this 
agent  paid  an  exorbitant  price  for  what  was  really 
worth  little  or  nothing,  giving  Just  the  same  kind 
of  excuse  for  allowing  his  employer  to  be  thus 
cheated  ;  saying,  "I  made  no  careful  inquiries,  but 
took  the  seller  s  word  ;'"  the  employer  would  doubtless 
reply,  "  The  seller  indeed  is  to  be  condemned  for 
cheating ;  but  so  you  are,  for  your  carelessness  in 
my  interests.  His  being  greatly  in  fault  does  not 
clear  you;  and  your  merely  intending  to  do  what 
was  right,  is  no  excuse  for  your  not  taking  pains  to 
gain  right  information." 

Now  on  such  a  principle  we  ought  to  act  in  our 
charities  ;  regarding  ourselves  as  stewards  of  all  that 
Providence  has  bestowed,  and  as  bound  to  expend 
it  in  the  best  way  possible,  and  not  shelter  our  own 
faulty  negligence  under  the  misconduct  of  an- 
other. 

It  is  now  generally  acknowledged  that  relief 
afforded  to  want,  as  mere  want,  tends  to  increase 
that  want ;  while  the  relief  afforded  to  the  sick,  the 
infirm,  and  the  disabled,  has  plainly  no  tendency  to 
multiply  its  own  objects.  Now  it  is  remarkable, 
that  the  Lord  Jesus  employed  His  miraculous  power 
in  healing  the  sick  continually,  but  in  feeding  the 
hungry  only  twice  ;  while  the  power  of  multiplying 
food  which  He  then  manifested,  as  well  as  His 
directing  the  disciples  to  take  care  and  gather  up 
the  fragments  that  remained  that  nothing  might  be 
lost,  served  to  mark  that  the  abstaining  from  any 
like  procedure  on  other  occasions  was  a  deliberate 
design.  In  this,  besides  other  objects,  our  Lord 
had  probably  in  view  to  afford  us  some  instruction, 
from  this  example,  as  to  the  mode  of  our  charity. 
Certain  it  is,  that  the  reasons  for  this  distinction  are 
now,  and  ever  must  be,  the  same  as  at  that  time. 
Now  to  those  engaged  in  that  important  and  in- 
exhaustible subject  of  inquiry,  the  internal  evidences 
of  Christianity,  it  will  be  interesting  to  observe  here 
one  of  the  instances  in  which  the  superhuman 
wisdom  of  Jesus  forestalled  the  discovery  of  an 
important  principle,  often  overlooked,  not  only  by 
the  generality  of  men,  but  by  the  most  experienced 
statesmen  and  the  ablest  philosophers,  even  in  these 
later  ages  of  extended  human  Knowledge,  and 
development  of  mental  power.  — WUately. 


(457-)  Nothing  seems  much  clearer  than  the 
natural  direction  of  charity.  Would  we  all  but 
relieve,  according  to  the  measure  of  our  means, 
tho'^e  objects  immediately  within  the  range  of  our 
personal  knowledge,  how  much  of  the  worst  evil 
of  poverty  might  be  alleviated  !  Very  poor  people, 
who  are  known  to  us  to  have  been  decent,  honest, 
and  industrious,  when  industry  was  in  their  power, 
have  a  claim  on  us,  founded  on  our  knowledge,  and 
on  vicinity  and  n  'ghbourhood,  which  have  in  them- 
selves something  sacred  and  endearing  to  every  good 
heart.  One  cannot,  surely,  always  pass  by,  in  hist 
walks  for  health,  restoration,  or  delight,  the  lone 
wayside  beggar,  without  occasionally  giving  him  an 
alms.  Old,  care-worn,  pale,  drooping,  and  ema- 
ciated creatures,  who  pass  us  by  without  looking 
beseechingly  at  us,  or  even  lifting  up  their  eyes  from 
the  ground,  cannot  often  be  met  with  without  excit- 
ing an  interest  in  us  for  their  silent  and  unobtrusive 
sufferings  or  privations.  A  hovel  here  and  there 
round  and  about  our  own  comfortable  dwelling, 
attracts  our  eyes  by  some  peculiar  appearance  of 
penury,  and  we  look  in,  now  and  then,  upon  its 
inmates,  cheering  their  cold  gloom  with  some  small 
benefaction.  These  are  duties  all  men  owe  to 
distress  :  they  are  easily  discliarged  ;  and  even  such 
tender  mercies  are  twice  blessed. 

— Chalmers^  1 780-1 847. 

7.  Should  be  prompt. 

(458.)  The  benevolent  Dr.  Wilson,  Bishop  of 
Sodor  and  Man,  once  discovered  a  clergyman  at 
Bath,  who,  he  was  informed,  was  ill,  poor,  and  had 
a  numerous  family.  In  the  evening  he  gave  a 
friend  £'^0,  requesting  that  he  would  deliver  it  in 
the  most  delicate  manner,  and  as  from  an  unknown 
person.  The  friend  replied  : — "  I  will  wait  upon 
him  early  in  the  morning."  "You  will  oblige  me 
by  calling  directly,"  requested  the  kind-hearted 
prelate  ;  "  think,  sir,  of  what  importance  a  good 
night's  rest  may  be  to  the  poor  man." 

8.  Should  not  be  ashamed  or  afraid  to  stoop. 

{459.)  In  another  walk  he  saw  a  poor  man  with 
a  poorer  horse,  that  was  fallen  under  his  load  ; 
they  were  both  in  distress,  and  needed  present  help, 
which  Mr.  Herbert  perceiving,  put  off  his  canonical 
coat  and  helped  the  poor  man  to  unload,  and  after 
to  load  his  horse.  The  poor  man  blessed  him  for 
it  ;  and  he  blessed  the  poor  man  ;  and  was  so  like 
the  good  Saniaiitan,  that  he  gave  him  money  to 
refresh  both  himself  and  his  horse  ;  and  told  liiin 
that  "if  he  loved  himself,  he  should  be  merciful  to 
his  beast."  Thus  he  left  the  poor  man,  and  at  his 
coming  to  the  musical  frlemls  at  Salisbury,  they 
began  to  wonder  that  Mr.  George  Herbert,  who 
used  to  be  so  trim  and  neat,  came  into  that  company 
so  soiled  and  discomposed  ;  but  he  told  them  the 
occasion  ;  and  when  one  of  the  company  told  him, 
"he  had  disparaged  himself  by  so  diity  an  employ- 
ment," his  answer  was,  that  "the  thought  of  what 
he  had  done  would  prove  music  to  him  at  midnight, 
and  that  the  omission  of  it  would  have  ujiraided 
and  made  discord  in  his  conscience,  whensoever  he 
should  pass  by  that  place  ;  for  if  I  be  bound  to 
pray  for  all  that  are  in  distress,  I  am  sure  that  I  am 
bound,  so  far  as  it  is  in  my  power,  to  practise  what 
I  pray  for.  And  though  I  do  not  wish  for  the 
like  occasion  everyday,  yet,  let  me  tell  you,  I  would 
not  willingly  pass  one  day  of  my  life  without  com- 
forting a  sad  soul  or  showing  mercy  ;  and  I  praise 


BEXEFICEXCE. 


(    78     ) 


BENEVOLENCE. 


God   for  this  occasion.     And  now  let  us  tune  our 
instruments."     — Jzaak  Waltott's  Uje  of  Herbert. 

9.  Should  be  unostentatious. 

(460.)  Those  obstreperous  benefactors  that,  lilce 
to  liens  wliich  cannot  lay  an  egg  but  they  must 
cackle  straight,  give  no  alms  but  with  trumpets, 
lose  their  thanks  with  God.  Alms  sliould  be  like 
oil,  which,  though  it  swim  aloft  when  it  is  fallen, 
yet  makes  no  noise  in  the  falling  ;  not  like  water, 
that  still  sounds  wiiere  it  lights. 

—  Hall,  1 5  74- 1 656. 

(461.)  Charity  and  fine  dressing  are  very  differtnt 
things  ;  but  if  men  give  alms  for  the  same  reasons 
that  others  dress  fine,  only  to  be  seen  and  admired, 
charity  is  then  but  like  the  vanity  of  fine  clothes. 

— E.  Cook. 

10.  True  beneficence  is  unconscious  of  Its  rarity 
and  wortli. 

(462.)  It  was  a  cold  and  severe  winter.  The 
little  Minna,  the  only  daughter  of  charitable  parents, 
collected  the  crumbs  and  small  pieces  of  bread,  and 
kept  them  carefully.  Twice  a  day  she  went  into  the 
garden,  scattering  the  crumbs  ;  and  the  birds  came 
and  picked  them  up  ;  but  the  little  girl's  hands 
trembled  with  cold  in  the  bitter  air. 

The  parents  watched  her,  and  were  glad  at  the 
lovely  sight,  and  said  :  "  Why  are  you  doing  that, 
Minna?" 

"All  is  covered  with  ice  and  snow,"  answered 
Minna  ;  "the  little  creatures  cannot  find  anything  ; 
they  are  poor  now.  Therefore  I  feed  them,  as  the 
rich  people  help  and  assist  the  poor." 

Then  the  father  said:  "  liut  you  cannot  provide 
for  them  all." 

Little  Minna  answered  ;  "Do  not  all  children  in 
the  world  do  as  1  do,  even  as  all  rich  men  take  care 
of  the  poor?" 

Then  the  father  looked  at  the  mother  of  the  little 
makien,  and  said  :  "  Oh,  holy  innocence  !" 

— F.  A.  Krtimmacher. 

11.  Is  not  to  be  restrained  by  ingratitude. 

(463.)  There  are  many  who  feel  for  the  poor.  The)' 
would  gladly  relieve  their  wants.  They  are  pained 
to  see  these  wretched  mothers,  and  yet  more 
wretched  children  ;  but  having  found  their  charity 
often  misapplied  and  thrown  away  on  the  unworthy 
and  ungrateful,  they  are  afraid  to  give  ;  and  not 
seldom  tempted,  on  discovering  how  they  have  been 
imi)osed  upon,  to  say  in  their  haste  as  David  did  his, 
All  men  are  liars  !  But  if  charity  often  fails  in  its 
object,  so  do  other  things.  Tiie  sun  shines  on 
many  a  fair  blossom  that  never  turns  into  fruit,  and 
the  clouds  pour  their  bounties  on  fields  that  yield  no 
harvest.  But  to  leave  figures  for  facts.  Education 
as  well  as  charity  often  fails :  it  is  but  a  small 
portion  of  children  that  become  ripe  scholars. 
Moral  training  fails ;  how  many  parents,  besiiles 
David,  have  had  their  hearts  wouniicd  and  torn  by 
wicked  children  I  The  labours  of  husfjandry  fail  ; 
it  is  but  a  proportion  of  the  seed  that  springs ;  and 
t  still  less  proportion  that,  reaching  maturity,  in 
golden  sheaves  rewards  the  farmer's  toil.  Physic 
fails  ;  diseases  rage,  and  patients  die  in  spite  of  it. 
Even  the  pulpit  fails  ;  but  what  pre.acher  thinks  of 
abandoning  it,  because  many  of  his  sermons  do  no 
good  ;  nay,  like  absurd  charity,  do  positive  harm — 
hardening  those  they  fail  to  soften,  and  making  people 
as  indifferent  to  the  const  boiemn  things  as  a  hoary 


sexton  to  the  mouldering  remnants  of  mortalnj    the 
skulls  he  tosses  out  of  the  grave. 

Man  is  answerable  for  duty  ;  but  not  for  results. 
And  as  with  faith  in  a  promised  blessing,  we  are 
always  to  preach,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  to 
sow  beside  all  waters,  you  are  never  to  cease  your 
charities.  Let  not  the  cold  ingratitude  of  othei 
hearts  freeze  your  own.  — Gittki-u. 

12.  Tlie  shame  and  guilt  of  abusing  it. 

(464.)  An  Arab  possessed  a  horse  so  famous  far 
and  near  for  its  beauty,  gentleness,  and  matchless 
speed,  that  he  had  many  tempting  offers  to  part 
with  her.  He  refused  them  all,  and,  in  particular, 
the  repeated  solicitations  of  one  who  offered  an 
enormous  price.  One  day,  as,  with  head  wrapt  in 
mantle  and  lance  at  rest,  he  was  pressing  homewards 
through  the.  burning  desert,  his  horse  suddenly 
started  ;  and  there,  right  across  the  path,  lay  a 
poor  traveller — alive,  for  he  groaned  ;  but  exhausted, 
and  apparently  at  the  point  of  death.  Like  the 
good  Samaritan — for,  though  fierce,  these  wild 
Bedouins  have  savage  virtues,  are  hospitat)le  and 
friendly — he  dismounted,  and  finding  the  unfortunate 
traveller  unable  to  walk  or  even  to  stand,  set  him 
on  his  own  saddle.  No  sooner  done  than,  as  if  the 
vigour  of  the  steed  had  been  imparted  to  its  rider, 
the  bowed  and  languid  form  became  instantly  erect ; 
the  horse  suddenly  wheeled  round,  sprang  ofi  to 
the  stroke,  and  a  laugh  of  triumph  revealed  the 
trick.  The  man  who  had  offered  him  an  enormous 
price  for  the  horse  was  on  her  back.  Assuming  the 
guise  of  distress,  he  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
other's  generous  feelings,  to  steal  what  he  could 
not  buy.  The  injured  man  did  not  curse  him  ;  nor, 
fortified  by  the  stoicism  which  the  Mohammedans' 
belief  in  fate  imparts,  merely  bowed  his  head  to  the 
misfortune.  Me  soared  above  it  to  a  height  of 
moral  grandeur  which  few  reach.  Calling  on  the 
other  to  halt,  he  said  that  he  had  one  favour  to 
ask  ;  it  was  this,  that  he  would  never  tell  how  he 
had  won  the  horse,  because,  were  that  known,  it 
might  hinder  some  from  receiving  help  in  circum- 
stances of  danger  not  feigned,  but  real — and  so  doom 
the  unfortunate  to  perish.  It  is  but  justice  to  human 
nature  to  add — what  indeed  shows  that  fine  feelings 
may  lie  dormant  in  the  worst  of  men — that  the  other 
was  so  touched  by  the  unselfishness  and  nobility  of 
this  appeal,  that  he  relented  ;  and,  riding  up  to  the 
man  he  had  wronged,  gave  him  back  his  horse. 

— Guthrie. 


BENEVOLENCE. 

1.  Is  a  characteristic  of  every  true  Christian. 
(465.)   1  do  not  believe  in  Christianity  that  is  not 

Christ-like  ;  and  I  no  more  believe  in  a  profession 
of  piety  which  is  not  associated  with  His  pity  than 
in  a  sun  that  sheds  no  light,  in  a  fire"  that  gives  out 
no  heat,  in  a  rose  that  breathes  no  perfume  ;  they 
are  mere  painting  ;  life-like,  but  dead  ;  clever,  but 
cold.  People  may  talk  of  such  and  such  a  maa 
being  godly  ;  but  none  are  godly  but  the  god-like, 
God  is  the  "Judge  of  the  widow,  and  the  Father 
of  the  fatherless  in  His  holy  habitation  ; "  and  he 
only  is  godlike  who  stands  to  widows  in  the  room 
of  the  dead,  and  in  whom  orphans  find  both  a  father 
and  a  friend.  — GutlirU. 

2.  Must  show  Itself  in  actions. 

(466.)  'We  read  in  our  chronicles  of  king  Oswald, 


BE  RE  A  VEMENT. 


(    79    ) 


BE  RE  A  VEMENT. 


that  as  he  sat  at  table,  when  a  fair  silver  dish  full 
of  re^^al  delicacies  was  set  before  him.  and  he  ready 
to  fall  to,  hearing  from  his  almoner  that  there  were 
great  store  of  poor  at  his  gates,  piteously  crying  out 
for  some  relief,  did  not  fill  them  with  words,  as, 
"God  help  them  !  "  "God  relieve  them!"  "God 
comfort  them!"  &c.,  but  commanded  his  steward 
presently  to  take  the  dish  off  the  table  and  distribute 
the  meat,  then  beat  the  dish  all  in  pieces,  and  cast 
It  among  them.  This  was  true  charity.  Words, 
be  they  never  so  adorned,  clothe  not  the  naked  ; 
be  iiey  never  so  delicate,  feed  not  the  hungiy  ;  be 
they  never  so  zealous,  warm  not  him  that  is  starved 
with  cold  ;  be  they  never  so  oily,  cure  not  the 
wounded  ;  be  they  never  so  free,  set  not  them  free 
that  are  bound,  visit  not  the  sick  or  imprisoned. 
— Holds-worth,  1630, 

S.  Posthumous  benevolence. 

(467.)  What  we  employ  in  charitable  uses  during 
our  lives  is  given  away  from  ourselves  :  what  we 
bequeath  at  our  death  is  given  from  others  only, 
as  our  nearest  relations. 

— Atterbury,  1662- 1 732. 


BEREAVEMENT. 

I.  IS  A   COMMON  EXPERIENCE. 

(468.)  Some  time  after  Kisagotami  gave  birth  to 
a  son,  but  when  the  child  was  able  to  walk  he  died. 
The  young  girl  went  from  house  to  house  with  the 
dead  child  in  her  bosom,  asking  for  medicine,  and 
they  said  she  was  mad  ;  but  a  wise  man  said,  "  I 
cannot  give  you  medicine  ;  Buddha  can." 

So  Kisagotami  went  to  Buddha,  and  said,  "Do 
you  know  any  medicine  that  will  be  good  for  my 
boy?" 

15uddha  replied,  "I  do." 

"And  what  do  you  require?" 

"  I  want  a  handful  of  mustard-seed  ;  but  it  must 
be  taken  from  some  house  where  no  son,  parent, 
husband,  or  slave  has  ever  died." 

The  girl  went,  carrying  the  dead  child  on  her  hip, 
asking  everywhere  for  mustard-seed  from  some  house 
where  death  had  not  been.  But  one  house  answered, 
"  We  have  lost  a  son  ; "  another,  "  We  have  lost 

f)arents  ; "  another,  "  We  have  lost  a  slave."  At 
ast,  not  being  able  to  find  a  single  house  where  one 
had  not  died,  she  began  to  think  hers  was  not  the 
only  son  who  had  suffered  death ;  that  every- 
where children  were  dying  and  parents  too. 

So  she  was  seized  with  fear,  and,  putting  away 
affection  for  her  dead  child,  she  left  him  in  the 
forest,  went  to  Buddha  and  offered  him  homage. 

He  said  to  her,  "  Have  you  procured  the  hand- 
fill  of  mustard-seed  ?  " 

"  I  have  not,  because  the  people  of  the  village 
told  me  the  living  are  few,  but  the  dead  are  many." 

Buddha  replied,  "  You  thought  that  you  only  had 
lost  a  son  ;  but  the  law  of  death  is  that  among  all 
living  creatures  there  is  no  permanence." 

—A  Buddhist  Parable. 

II.  REVEALS  THE  POVERTY  OF  OUR  FAITH. 
(469.)  How  poor  our  heaven  is!     How  little  it 

draws  us  !  How  lillle  there  is  that  consoles  us  in  the 
death  of  those  whom  we  love  !  We  put  away  our  chil- 
dren in  death,  as  one  would  hold  his  children  out  of 
a  castle  window  at  night,  and  let  'hem  drop.  VV.? 
know  not  where,  on  what  rocks,  ot  '.ito  what  raging 


wa%'e,  they  fall.  When  our  children  die,  we  drop 
them  into  the  unknown,  shuddering  with  fear.  We 
know  that  they  go  out  from  us,  and  we  stand,  and 
pity  and  wonder.  If  we  receive  news  that  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars  had  been  left  them  by  some  one 
dying,  we  should  be  thrown  into  an  ecstasy  of  re- 
joicing ;  but  when  they  have  gone  home  to  God, 
we  stand,  and  mourn,  and  pine,  and  wonder  at 
"the  mystery  of  Providence."  The  mystery  of 
Providence  to  me,  is,  that  anybody  is  born.  The 
mystery  of  Providence  to  me,  is,  that  when  we  are 
born,  if  God  loves  us,  as  I  le  does  through  Jesus 
Christ,  He  lets  us  stay  away  from  Him  so  long. 
Dying  it  more  desirable  than  living  to  Christian 
faith.  — Beecher. 

III.  ITS  DESIGN. 

(470.)  I  am  rich  in  heaven,  in  my  children.  Al- 
ready I  have  sent  thither  many.  Have  1  lost  them  ? 
Not  one  of  them.  They  are  mine  more  than  when 
I  clasped  them.  They  are  nobler  and  more  worthy 
of  love  than  they  were  then.  They  have  been  saved 
for  me  better  than  1  could  have  saved  them  for  my- 
self. I  have  laid  them  up  ;  and  I  have  verified  the 
declaration,  "  Where  your  treasure  is,  there  will 
your  heart  be  also."  How  many,  many  times  have 
men  gone  by  their  tears  to  the  gate  of  heaven  who 
never  could  have  been  drawn  there  by  the  mere 
presentation  of  truth.  All  that  could  be  addressed 
to  their  conscience,  to  the*',  fear,  or  to  their  reason, 
did  not  teach  them  the  v. iy  to  God's  throne;  and 
God  took  from  them  thei'  brother,  their  sister,  the 
companion  of  their  life,  or  ifieir  child,  and  then  they 
found  that  path  themselves.  As  the  kine  went  low- 
ing with  the  ark,  so  the  heart  goes  lowing  toward 
heaven,  seeking  its  owii,  and  finding  them,  in  hope, 
in  imagination,  and  resting  only  when  by  faith  it  is 
brought  again  consciously  near  to  them  in  the  king- 
dom of  the  Eternal  Father.  — Beecher. 

(471.)  Every  deceased  friend  is  a  magnet  drawing 
us  into  another  world.  — £.  Cook. 

IV.  HOIV  IT  SHOULD  BE  BORNE. 

1.  We  should  not  sorrow  as  those  who  have  bo 
hope. 

(472.)  There  be  two  manners  of  mourning  for  the 
dead.  The  heathen  and  unbelievers  mourn  without 
hope  of  the  resurrection  :  their  opinion  is,  that  see- 
ing their  near  friends  are  dead,  there  is  no  more  of 
them,  but  that  they  have  utterly  lost  them  for  ever. 
This  heathenish  sorrow  will  not  St.  Paul  have  of 
Christians. 

The  Christians  mourn  also,  but  with  a  living  hope 
of  the  joyful  resurrection.  For  like  as  God  the 
Father  left  not  Christ  the  Lord  in  death,  but  raised 
Him  up  again,  and  placed  Him  in  eternal  life  ;  even 
so  us  that  believe  shall  not  He  leave  in  death,  but 
bring  us  out  into  everlasting  'ife.  For  this  cause 
dolh  the  Apostle  speak  of  the  dead,  as  of  those  that 
sleep,  which  rest  from  all  travail  and  labour,  that 
they  may  rise  again  in  better  case. 

Like  as  the  flowers  with  all  their  virtue,  smell, 
and  beauty,  lie  all  the  winter  in  the  root,  sleeping 
and  resting  till  they  may  be  awaked  with  the 
pleasant  lime  of  May,  when  they  come  forth  with 
all  their  beauty,  smell,  and  virtue  ;  even  so  ought 
not  we  to  think  that  our  friends  which  be  departed 
are  in  any  cumbrance  or  sorrow,  but  their  strength 
and  virtue  being  drawn  in,  liveth  in  God  and  with 
I  God.     They  lie  and  rest  till  the  last  day,  when  thef 


BEREA  VEMENT. 


(    80    ) 


BIBLE. 


shall  awake  again,  fair,  beautiful,  and  glorious,  in 
soul  and  body.  Who  will  not  rejoice  at  this  com- 
fort of  Paul,  and  set  aside  all  unprofitable  sorrow, 
for  this  exceeding  joy's  sake? 

—  Wermullerus,  1557. 

2.  With  thankfulness  for  tlie  friends  who  have 
heen  taken  from  us. 

(473.)  A  dear  little  girl  had  been  taught  to  pray 
specially  for  her  father.  He  had  been  suddenly 
taken  away.  Kneeling  at  her  evening  devotion, 
her  voice  faltered  ;  and  as  her  eyes  met  her  mother's, 
she  sobbed,  "  O  mother !  I  cannot  leave  him  all 
out.  Let  me  say,  thank  God  that  I  had  a  dear 
father  once,  so  I  can  keep  him  in  my  prayers." 
Many  stricken  hearts  may  learn  a  sweet  lesson  from 
this  child.  Let  us  remember  to  thank  God  for 
mercies  past,  as  well  as  to  ask  for  blessings  for  the 
future. 

3.  With  thankfulness  for  the  friends  who  are 
spared  to  us. 

(474.)  It  were  a  very  scornful  thing,  if  when  a 
man  hath  hurt  one  foot,  he  would  therefore  mar  the 
other  also ;  or  if,  when  ens  part  of  his  goods  is 
stolen  away,  he  would  cast  the  rest  into  the  sea,  and 
say  that  he  so  bewaileth  his  adversity.  No  less 
foolishly  do  they,  that  enjoy  not  such  goods  as  are 
present,  and  regard  not  their  friends  that  be  alive  ; 
but  spoil  and  mar  themselves,  because  their  wives, 
children,  or  friends,  be  departed. 

Though  one  of  the  husbandman's  trees  doth 
wither  away,  he  heweth  not  down  therefore  all  the 
other  trees ;  but  regardeth  the  others  so  much  the 
more  that  they  may  win  the  thing  again,  which  the 
others  lost.  Even  so  learn  thou  in  adversity,  with 
such  goods  as  are  left  thee  to  comfort  and  refresh 
thyself  again.  — iVermullerus,  1551. 

T.    CONSOLA  TIONS  FOR  THE  BEREA  VED. 

{475.)  We  give  hostages  to  fortune  when  we  bring 
children  into  the  world  ;  and  how  unstable  this  is 
we  know,  and  must  therefore  hazard  the  adventure. 
Are  you  offended  that  it  has  pleased  God  to  snatch 
your  pretty  babes  from  the  infinite  contingencies  of 
so  perverse  an  age,  in  which  there  is  so  little  tempta- 
tion to  live?  .  .  .  Say  not  they  might  have 
come  later  to  their  destiny  :  Magna  est  felicitas  citb 
esse  felicem, — 'Tis  no  small  happiness  to  be  happy 
quickly.  — Evelyn,  1 620-1 706. 

(476.)  A  little  boy  once  went  out  in  the  early 
morn,  and  was  greatly  delighted  with  the  little 
globes  formed  by  the  dew  on  the  brambles.  He 
hastened  back,  and  led  his  father  out  to  see  those 
miniature  worlds;  but  when  the  father  and  son 
arrived,  the  sun  was  up,  and  had  drawn  up  in 
vapour,  the  globes  that  had  hung  on  the  brambles, 
and  so  displeased  the  child.  The  child  cried,  and 
said — "The  angry  sun  has  taken  them  all  up." 
'I'he  father  looked  up,  and  saw  the  beautiful  rain- 
bow On  the  bosom  of  the  cloud,  and  said — "There, 
my  child,  the  sun  has  taken  up  the  bramble  globes, 
and  they  help  to  form  that  beautiful  bow  on  the 
cloud."  Ah  1  my  friends,  God  has  taken  up  some 
of  our  friends  ;  and  have  we  not  murmured  ?  But, 
where  are  they  ?  Ah  !  do  they  not  form  the  beauti- 
ful bow  round  the  throne  of  God  ?    — Beaumatti. 

(477.)  The  dead  possess  all  the  consciousness  of 
the  living,  and  much  more.     The  dead  are  just  out 


of  our  sight,  round  the  comer  of  the  temple  oC 
nature.  We  dwell  in  the  suburbs  of  the  eternal 
city,  they  are  in  the  kingly  metropolis.  We  are 
in  abasement,  they  are  in  the  royal  chambers  of 
state.  We  are  under  clouds,  they  are  in  a  light  .so 
radiant  that  if  it  should  fall  upon  us  at  midday, 
"  the  earth  would  seem  to  suffer  an  eclipse,  and 
hang  like  a  corpse  in  the  midst  of  shadows." 

— Towtuettd, 


BIBLE,  THE. 

1.  THE  NECESSITY  OF  A  REVELA  TIOtT  IS 
OBVIOUS. 

1.  From  the  Ignorance  of  man  concerning'  him- 
self. 

(478.)  Reason  sees  that  man  is  ignorant,  guilty, 
mortal,  miserable,  transported  with  vain  passions, 
tormented  with  accusations  of  conscience,  but  it 
could  not  redeem  those  evils.  Corrupt  nature  is 
like  an  imperfect  building  that  lies  in  rubbish  ;  the 
imperfection  is  visible,  but  not  the  way  to  finish  it ; 
for  through  the  ignorance  of  the  first  design,  every 
one  follows  his  own  fancy,  whereas  when  the 
Architect  comes  to  finish  His  own  project,  it 
appears  regular  and  beautiful.  Thus  the  various 
directions  of  philosophers  to  recover  fallen  man  out 
of  his  ruins,  and  to  raise  him  to  his  first  state,  were 
vain.  Some  glimmerings  they  had,  that  the  happi- 
ness of  a  reasonable  nature  consisted  in  its  union 
with  God,  but  in  order  to  this,  they  propounded 
such  means  as  were  not  only  ineffectual,  but 
opposite.  Such  is  the  pride  and  folly  of  carnal 
wisdom,  that  to  bring  God  and  man  together,  it 
advances  man,  and  depresses  God. 

— Bates,  1 62  5- 1 699. 

2.  From  the  failure  of  all  the  philosophers  to 
construct  a  complete  and  coherent  religion. 

(479.)  A  comparison  of  the  theory  of  "the  faith 
once  delivered  to  the  saints"  with  the  facts  of  the 
past  has  shown  that  such  a  faith  actually  exists,  and 
is  in  its  substance  identical  with  the  faith  of  the 
apostles  and  prophets  as  contained  in  the  canonical 
Scriptures.  Its  history  is  like  the  unbroken  course 
of  some  stately  river,  ever  flowing  onwards  from  its 
first  rise  in  the  apostolic  age  towards  the  glorious 
ocean  of  the  prophetic  future,  ever  widening  and 
deepening  as  it  flows,  and  from  every  bright  wave 
echoing  the  everlasting  song,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest,  and  on  earth  peace.",  But  the  history  of 
speculation  is  totally  diff"erent.  It  is  a  weary  tale 
of  ceaseless  effort  and  of  ceaseless  failure.  It  is  not 
one  river,  but  many ;  a  hundred  streams,  now 
wasted  in  the  barren  sands,  now  stagnating  in  the 
malarious  marsh,  now  evaporating  by  simple  inani- 
tion, earthborn  and  earthly. 

The  progress  of  speculative  thought  has  been  like 
the  conduct  of  a  man  bewildered  in  some  dense  and 
trackless  forest.  Brought  to  this  present  spot  by 
some  able  and  faithful  guide,  he  has  now  in  some 
way  or  another  been  deprived  of  his  assistance,  and 
is  left  to  shift  for  himself.  He  has  no  knowledge 
whatever  to  begin  with,  for  he  was  never  here  before, 
and  having  neither  chart  nor  compass,  is  devoid  of 
all  data  beyond  what  he  can  gain  by  his  own  con- 
sciousness. He  proceeds  after  a  while  in  search  of 
a  path  of  escape  from  the  silent  and  solitary  forest 
into  the  green  meadows  and  smiling  scenes  of  happj 


BIBLE. 


(    8i    ) 


BIBLE. 


industry  in  the  distance.  From  the  dead  level 
where  he  stands  no  glimpse  of  the  distance  can  be 
gained.  The  tops  of  the  tall  trees  close  the  boundary 
of  the  view  on  every  side  ;  and  if  he  climbs  them  he 
but  sees  the  depth  and  boundless  extent  of  the 
mysterious  circle  wrapping  him  in  on  all  sides. 
He  is  left  face  to  face  with  himself  and  the  problem 
of  escape,  with  all  his  man's  wants  and  weaknesses 
to  urge  him  to  a  speedy  solution  of  it.  He  there- 
fore makes  the  attempt  and  penetrates  some  distance 
into  the  thick  forest,  till,  through  the  matted  and 
tangled  labyrinth,  or  over  the  yawning  fissure,  or 
down  the  steep  precipice,  or  across  the  over-hanging 
side  of  the  barrier  rock,  he  can  advance  no  further. 
He  therefore  turns  upon  his  steps,  and  following  his 
steps  backwards,  finds  his  way  to  the  point  whence 
he  started.  Then  he  tries  again  with  the  same 
effort,  and  with  the  same  failure.  Over  and  over 
the  same  process  goes  on.  But  meantime  the  day 
advances  and  night  draws  nigh.  Natural  wants 
arise,  and  crave  in  vain  for  satisfaction.  There  is 
neither  bread  nor  water  in  this  lonely  forest.  He 
lies  down  amid  the  darkness,  and  tries  to  forget  in 
sullen  sleep  his  anxieties  and  despair.  Another 
day  brings  another  day's  hopes,  another  day's  efforts, 
and  another  day's  failure  ;  till  like  many  an  unhappy 
wretch  in  actual  life,  exhausted  with  effort,  weak 
with  hunger,  and  tormented  with  thirst,  broken 
down  by  despair,  and  sick  with  fond  dreams  of  the 
home  he  will  never  reach,  he  lays  him  down  and 
dies. 

Such  has  actually  been  the  course  of  philosophic 
thought.  A  succession  of  new  efforts  from  new 
ideas  as  starting-points  have  ended  in  a  succession 
of  failures,  each  eftbrt  like  a  faint  wave  that  curls 
and  breaks  before  it  reaches  the  shore. 

Thus  the  recognition  of  a  personal  and  super- 
intending Deity,  traceable  doubtfully  in  Thales, 
and  distinctly  taught  by  Anaxagoras,  became  again 
dubious  in  Archelau.s.  The  affectionate  morality 
and  piety  of  Pythagoras  degenerated  into  the  super- 
stitious mysticism  of  the  later  Pythagoreans,  and 
his  recognition  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  of 
rewards  and  punishment  after  death,  into  a  coarse 
metempsychosis.  The  clear  and  lofty  Theism  of 
Socrates,  his  recognition  of  virtue,  and  his  perception 
of  the  true  dignity  of  human  nature,  passed  through 
Plato  into  the  disputative  scepticism  of  the  Academy. 
The  emphatic  protest  of  the  Eleatic  School  against 
a  gross  and  materialistic  polytheism,  and  its  distinct 
consciousness  of  the  unity  and  spiritual  nature  of 
God,  became  secularised  in  Parmenides,  and 
atheistic  in  the  sceptical  sophistry  of  Zeno  and 
the  ascetic  dualism  of  Empedocles.  The  pleasure- 
loving  school  of  Aristippus  ended  in  the  sullen  dis- 
content of  Hegesias,  the  death-persuader.  The 
recognition  of  the  inductive  basis  of  all  human 
knowledge  belonging  to  Euclid  of  Megara,  evapo- 
rated in  the  idle  sophisms  of  Eubulides  and  Uiodorus, 
and  the  logical  fallacies  of  Plato,  with  its  Stilpo. 
The  idealistic  philosophy  of  Plato,  with  its  strong 
resemblances  to  revealed  doctrine  on  the  subject  of 
God,  and  the  soul,  and  sin,  and  the  other  life,  died 
out  of  Polemo  and  Crates  in  one  direction,  in  the 
sceptical  uncertainty  of  Archesilaus  in  a  second,  and 
in  the  probabilities  and  lax  morality  of  Carneades 
in  the  third.  The  philosophy  of  Aristotle,  pure  if 
told,  and  elevating  if  selfish,  ended  in  the  material- 
ktic  atheism  of  Strabo.  The  rigid  self-control  of 
Antisthenes  became  an  extravagance  in  the  severity 
of  the  Cynics  ind  the  sullen  pride  of  DiogAoes. 


The  natural  virtue  of  Zeno  passed  into  the  subtle 
negations  of  Crysippus.  The  principle  of  Epicurus, 
that  pleasure  was  to  be  found  in  virtue,  was  turned 
by  a  play  of  words  into  the  principle  'vhich  has 
made  Epicurean  a  name  of  reproach  throi^houf  the 
world.  The  craving  of  the  Alexandrian  School  after 
union  with  God  was  developed  into  the  impious 
mysticism  of  Plotinus.  Even  the  philosophy  of 
Locke  was  perverted  into  the  materialism  of  Hartley, 
Priestley,  and  Darwin,  the  sensationalism  of  Con- 
dillac,  the  selfishness  of  Helvetius,  the  fatalism  ol 
D'Holbach,  and  the  naked  atheism  of  the  P"rench 
Encyclopedists.  Lastly,  the  idealism  of  Descartes 
prepared  the  way  for  the  blasphemies  of  Schelling 
and  Hegel. 

Thus,  throughout  all  human  speculation,  the  same 
law  has  prevailed.  Many  great  and  noble  ideas 
have  been  thrown  out,  fragments  of  revealed  truth 
or  sparks  of  heavenly  light  received,  we  know  not 
how,  through  the  mercy  of  that  God  who  has,  more 
or  less,  wrought  in  the  loftier  spirits  of  our  race  as 
they  lived  and  died.  But  however  they  may  have 
been  acquired,  two  things  are  certain.  It  is  indis- 
putable that  in  the  minds  of  the  founders  of  philo- 
sophic schools  they  existed  only  dimly  and  darkly, 
and  were  never  framed  into  a  complete  and  coherent 
system.  Equally  certain  it  is  that  as  soon  as  men 
began  to  reason  upon  them  the  fragments  of  truth 
themselves  were  refined  away  and  lost.  None  of 
them  ever  retained  permanent  vitality.  None  of 
them  exercised  a  controlling  influence  over  mankind. 
The  one  fact  is  the  explanation  of  the  other.  What 
is  not  able  permanently  to  live  is  not  likely  eifcc- 
tually  to  act.  The  whole  process  has  consisted  of 
flashes  of  light  for  a  moment  illumining  the  <lark- 
ness,  like  rays  of  divine  sunlight  shining  from 
heaven,  and  then  gradually  dying  away  amid  the 
ever-deepening  shadows  of  human  ignorance  and 
misery.  — Garbett. 

II.  IN  THE  BIBLE  WE  HAVE  A  REVELA' 
TION  FROM  GOD. 

1.  Nature  of  the  evidence  by  wUch  its  Insplnu 
tion  is  proved. 

(480.)  There  is  a  vast  diflPerence  between  what  is 
called  mathematical,  and  what  is  called  moral  evi- 
dence ;  the  difference  consists  not  so  much  in  the 
fact  that  mathematical  proofs  deal  with  subjects  that 
come  under  the  cognizance  of  the  senses,  but  that 
mathematical  evidence  has  no  room  for  prejudice, 
or  passion,  or  self-will,  or  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief, 
or  an  unholy  appetite  of  sinful  desire  of  any  kind. 
If  1  am  proving  that  any  two  sides  of  a  triangle  are 
greater  than  the  third  side,  or  that  the  square  o< 
the  hypothenuse  of  a  right-angled  triangle  is  equal 
to  the  sum  of  the  squares  of  the  two  sides,  I  am 
engaged  in  a  sort  of  transcendental  process,  in  this 
respect  altogether  out  of  the  reach  of  passion.  But 
when  I  am  trying  to  prove  to  men  the  propositions 
that  speak  of  what  they  are,  and  what  they  should 
be,  and  whither  they  will  go  if  they  do  not  turn 
round  and  come  back,  or  if  they  persist  in  their 
present  palatable  but  sinful  course,  then  I  have  ta 
deal,  not  only  with  an  intellect  that  needs  to  be 
convinced,  but  with  prejudices  and  passions  in- 
numerable, that  thrust  themselves  forward,  and  \.vj 
to  prevent  the  clear,  and  logical,  and  triumphant 
conclusion,  to  which  1  should  otherwise  arrive 
Such  is  the  important  distinction  between  the  twa 
If  men   therefore  ask   for   mathematical   evidence 


BIBLE. 


(    8a    ) 


BIBLE. 


Bpon  this  book,  and  upon  religion,  they  demand 
what  is  impossible.  It  belongs  to  another  province. 
But  if  you  ask  for  and  accept  moral  evidence,  it  will 
be  found  in  itself  triumphant.  It  is  not  a  precarious 
or  equivocal  process.  When  a  man  is  tried  for  his 
life,  and  when  twelve  respectable  men  hear  the  trial 
and  proof,  they  come  to  the  conclusion,  he  is  or  is 
not  guilty.  How  rarely  do  we  find  a  jury  in  error  ! 
almost  never.  Why?  Because  moral  evidence  has 
power — it  does  satisfy.  And  yet  those  twelve  jury- 
men are  not  without  feelings,  sympathies,  passions, 
constantly  thrusting  themselves  up,  trying  to  arrest 
their  honest  verdict  ;  but  they  are  able,  notwith- 
standing, to  keep  all  down,  and  come  to  an  impartial 
conclusion  ;  and  reason  overcomes  every  resistance. 
Men's  lives  are  taken  away  by  force  of  moral  evi- 
dence, and  all  are  satisfied  it  is  right.  If  a  phy- 
sician come  to  me  when  I  am  ill,  he  cannot  mathe- 
matically demonstrate  my  illness,  he  cannot  mathe- 
matically convince  me  of  it ;  but  we  do  not  ask 
mathematical  evidence  on  such  subjects ;  we  are 
satisfied  with  moral.  Take  care,  then,  lest  in  the 
matters  of  Caesar  you  daily  accept  moral  evidence 
as  all  that  is  requisite ;  but  in  the  matters  of  God 
and  eternity,  where  the  moral  evi •'lance  is  so  magni- 
ficent, varied,  and  vast,  you  criminally  reject  it  as 
incomplete,  and  unable  to  prove  its  end  and  object. 

— Cumtning. 

a.  The  nature  of  its  Inspiration.* 

(481.)  It  is  never  to  be  supposed  that  the  divine 
pattern  of  the  Scriptures  should  direct  every  word 
and  every  phrase  by  an  extraordinary,  immediate 
inspiration,  for  then  it  were  impossible  there  should 
have  been  a  diversity  of  style,  but  all  the  parts  must 
have  been  in  one  and  the  same  style.  But  there 
was  that  influx  ol  the  Divine  Spirit  that  did  most 
certainly  guide  the  writers  as  to  all  the  substance  of 
what  was  to  be  written  and  recorded  by  them ; 
which  did  attemper  itself  to  the  natural  genius  of 
those  that  were  made  use  of  as  the  penmen,  so  that 
the  communication  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  perceived  by 
such  aiid  such  men,  of  such  and  such  a  constitution, 
temper,  and  genius,  comes  to  be  diversified  in  that 
manner,  as  if  one  comes  to  pour  a  quantity  of 
water  into  such  and  such  a  particular  vessel  ;  if  the 
vessel  be  round,  the  water  falls  into  a  round  figure ; 
if  the  vessel  be  square,  the  water  is  formed  into  that 
figure  unavoidably.  And  so  the  same  communica- 
tion of  the  Holy  Ghost  being  poured  into  such  a 
vessel  as  this  or  that  man  was,  comes  to  be  accord- 
ingly diversified.  That  very  communication  to 
such  an  one  as  Isaiah,  for  instance,  receives  one  sort 
of  figure  there,  and  a  communication  to  such  an  one 
as  Micah  receives  another  figure  there ;  when  yet 
all  these  communications  are  from  one  and  the 
same  fountain,  and  serve  for  one  and  the  same 
common  purpose.  — Salter,  1840. 

(482.)  You  cannot  dissect  Inspiration  into  sub- 
stance and  form.  As  for  thoughts  being  inspired, 
apart  iiom  the  words  which  give  them  expression, 
you  might  as  well  talk  of  a  tune  without  notes,  or  a 
sum  without  figures.  No  such  dream  can  aijide  the 
daylight  for  a  moment.     No  such  theory  of  Inspira- 

*  It  will  be  seen  that  these  two  illustrations  are  in  elucida- 
tion of  two  differing  theories  of  the  n^iture  of  the  Inspiration 
of  the  Scriptures.  As  Illustrations  they  are  equally  good, 
»ni  it  docs  noi  seem  to  me  to  be  necessary  to  indicate  which 
of  these  theories  I  think  to  be  the  true  one.  On  some 
Other  points  concerning  which  Chrisiian  men  differ,  illustia- 
tions  of  iheir  varying  viewf  \f  ill  be  given.  R.  fy.  B. 


tion  is  even  intelligible.     It  is  as  illogical  as  it  il 
worthless ;  and  cannot  be  too  sternly  put  down. 

— JJurgOH, 

%.  Proofs  that  It  Is  divinely  inspired, 
(l.)    The  marks  it  bears  of  a  Divine  origin. 

(483.)  You  find  by  daily  experience  every  in- 
genious author  leaves  an  image  and  impress  of  his 
own  spirit,  the  mark  of  his  genius  upon  every  work 
that  he  does.  We  can  say  of  an  exquisite  painting, 
by  some  secret  art  in  it,  "This  is  the  hand  of  such 
a  great  master."  Now  can  it  be  imagined,  that 
God  should  put  His  hand  to  any  work  and  leave  no 
signature  or  impress  of  it  upon  that  work  ?  It 
cannot  be  imagined,  for  it  must  be  either  because 
He  could  not,  or  because  He  would  not.  That  God 
could  not,  cannot  be  said  without  blasphemy.  Can 
men  show  the  wisdom  and  learning  they  have 
attained  to  in  every  work,  and  cannot  Go'l,  who  is 
the  Father  of  lights,  and  the  Fountain  of  wisdom, 
insinuate  such  secret  marks  and  notes  of  His 
wisdom  and  Divine  authority  into  that  wr'ting  He 
took  care  should  be  penned  for  the  use  and  comfort 
of  the  world,  that  it  might  be  known  to  be  His  ? 
And  that  He  would  not,  that  cannot  be  -believed 
neither.  — Manton,  i620-i5vSy. 

(484.)  How  are  we  to  know  whether  the  Scrip- 
tures be  the  Word  of  God  ?  It  shows  itself,  and 
evidences  itself  to  be  so  ;  for  it  is  a  light  that  dis- 
covers itself,  and  all  things  else,  without  any  other 
testimony.  When  the  sun  is  up,  there  needs  no 
witness  and  proof  that  it  is  light.  Let  the  least 
child  bring  a  candle  into  a  room,  and  as  it  discovers 
other  things,  so  it  discovers  itself:  so  the  Word  of 
God  is  that  which  discovers  itself  to  us,  yea,  it  has 
a  self-evidencing  light.        — Manton,  1620-1667. 

{485.)  May  a  particular  man  be  known  from  a 
thousand  others  by  his  face,  voice,  or  handwriting? 
Certainly  then  it  cannot  seem  strange  that  the  God 
of  heaven  should  be  discerned  from  His  sorry  crea- 
ture, by  His  voice  and  writing  in  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures. Do  we  not  see  that  He  hath  interwoven  His 
glorious  name  so  in' the  works  of  creation,  that  they 
speak  His  power  and  godhead,  and  call  Him  Maker 
in  their  thoughts,  who  never  read  the  Bible,  or  heard 
of  such  a  book  ?  (so  that  they  could  not  steal  the 
no'iion  thence,  but  had  it  from  the  dictate  of  their 
own  consciences,  extorting  the  acknowledgment  of 
a  Deity).  And  much  more  will  an  enlightened  con- 
science and  sanctified  heart  be  commanded,  by  the 
overpowering  evidence  that  shines  forth  in  the 
Scriptures,  to  fall  down  and  cry,  "  It  is  the  voice  of 
God,  and  not  any  creature  that  speaks  in  them." 
—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(486.)  T  cannot  look  around  me  without  being 
struck  with  the  analogy  observable  in  the  works  of 
God.  I  find  the  Bible  written  in  the  style  of  His 
other  books  of  Creation  and  Providence.  The  pen 
seems  in  the  same  hand.  I  see  it,  indeed,  write  at 
times  mysteriously  in  each  of  these  books  ;  but  I 
know  that  mystery  in  the  works  of  God  is  only 
another  name  for  my  ignorance.  The  moment, 
therefore,  that  I  become  humble,  all  becomes  right, 
— Cecil,  1748-1810. 

(2.)   The  confidence  of  believers  that  it  is  from  God, 
(487.)  The  grand  truths  and  chief  notions  found 


BIBLE. 


(    83    ) 


BIBLE. 


in  the  Scriptures,  are  so  connatural  to  the  principles 
of  grace,  whicli  the  same  holy  Spirit  (who  is  the 
indiler  of  them)  hath  planted  in  the  hearts  of  all  the 
saints,  that  their  souls  even  spring  and  leap  at  the 
reading  and  hearing  of  them,  as  the  Babe  did  in 
F.lizabeth^s  womb  at  the  salutation  of  the  Virgin 
Alary.  The  lamb  doth  not  more  certainly  know 
its  dam  in  the  midst  of  a  whole  flock  (at  whose 
hleating  it  passeth  by  them  all  to  come  to  be  suckled 
by  her)  than  the  sheep  of  Christ  know  His  voice  in 
the  saving  truths  of  the  Scriptures  ;  the  sinceie  milk 
whereof  they  desire,  and  are  taught  of  God  to  taste 
and  discern  from  all  other. 

—  Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3.)  Its  distinctness  from  all  other  books. 

(488.)  I  will  confess  that  the  majesty  of  the  Scrip- 
tures strikes  me  with  admiration,  as  the  purity  of 
the  Gospel  has  its  influence  on  my  heart.  Peruse 
the  works  of  our  philosophers,  with  all  their  pomp 
of  diction  ;  how  contemptible  are  they,  compared 
with  the  Scriptures  !  Is  it  possible  that  a  book  at 
once  so  simple  and  so  sublime  should  be  merely  the 
work  of  man  ?  Is  it  possible  that  the  sacred  Person- 
age whose  name  it  records  should  be  Himself  a  mere 
man  ?  What  sweetness,  what  purity,  in  His  manner  ! 
What  sublimity  in  His  maxims  !  What  profound 
wisdom  in  His  discourses !  Where  is  the  man, 
where  the  philosopher,  who  could  so  live  and  so  die 
without  weakness  and  without  ostentation?  If  the 
life  and  death  of  Socrates  were  those  of  a  sage,  the 
lifie  and  death  of  Jesus  were  those  of  a  God. 

— J.  J.  Rousseau. 

(489.)  At  a  literary  gathering  at  the  house  of  the 
Baron  von  Hoi  bach,  where  the  most  celebrated 
infidels  of  the  age  used  to  assemble,  the  gentlemen 
present  were  one  day  commenting  on  the  absurd, 
foolish,  and  childish  things  with  which  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  as  they  maintained,  abound.  But  the 
French  philosopher  and  infidel  Diderot,  who  had 
himself  taken  no  small  part  in  the  conversation, 
suddenly  put  a  period  to  it  by  saying,  "  But  it  is 
wonderful,  gentlemen,  it  is  wonderful  !  I  know  of 
no  man  in  France  who  can  write  and  speak  with 
such  ability.  In  spite  of  all  the  evil  which  we  have 
said,  and  undoubtedly  with  good  reason,  of  this 
book,  I  do  not  believe  that  you,  or  any  of  you, 
could  compose  a  narrative  so  simple,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  elevated  and  so  affecting  as  the  narra- 
tive of  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ, — a  narra- 
tive exerting  so  wide  an  influence  and  awakening 
S'.ich  deep  and  universal  feeling,  and  the  power  of 
which  after  so  many  hundred  years  would  still  be 
tlie  same."  This  unlooked-for  remark  filled  every 
o;ie  with  astonishment,  and  was  followed  by  a  pro- 
ti  acted  silence. 

(490.)  I  am  heartily  glad  to  witness  your  venera- 
tion for  a  Book  which,  to  say  nothing  of  its  holiness 
01  authority,  contains  more  specimens  of  genius  and 
taste  than  any  other  volume  in  existence. 

— Landor. 

(491.)  To  my  mind  there  is  no  plainer  proof  of 
the  Divine  authority  of  the  Bible,  and  that  they 
who  wrote  these  Gospels  were  moved  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  than  the  calm,  unimpassioned  style  in  which 
His  disciples  tell  the  story  of  their  Master's  wrongs, 
without  a  flash  of  feeling  ;  no  sign  that  a  tear  ever 
dropped  on  the  page,   no  sign  tliat  the  pen  ever 


trembled  with  indignation  in  their  hands  as  they 
wrote  it  down.  I  cannot  read  the  story  so  as  they 
seem  to  have  written  it,  no  more  than  I  could  stana 
by  to  see  a  mother  insulted,  or  have  a  father's 
memory  Ijlackened  and  traduced.  When  I  read 
how  my  blessed  Master  was  called  an  impostor,  and 
a  blasphemer,  and  a  glutton,  and  a  winebibber,  I  do 
not  know  when  it  is  more  difficult  to  be  angry  and 
not  sin.  — Guthru, 

(492.)  There  is  gold  in  the  rocks  which  fringt 
the  Pass  of  the  Splugen,  gold  even  in  the  stones 
which  mend  the  roads,  but  there  is  too  little  of  if 
to  be  worth  extracting.  Alas,  how  like  too  many 
books  and  sermons  1  Not  so  the  Scriptures,  they 
are  much  fine  gold  ;  their  very  dust  is  precious. 

— Spu7-^eon, 

(4.)  Its  adaptation  to  human  need. 

(493.)  God  made  the  present  earth  as  the  home 
of  man,  but  had  He  meant  it  as  a  m"—'  "edging  a 
world  less  beautiful  would  have  serveu  tne  purpose. 
A  big  round  island,  half  of  it  arable  and  half  of  it 
pasture,  with  a  clump  of  trees  in  one  corner  and  a 
magazine  of  fuel  in  another,  might  have  held  and 
fed  ten  millions  of  people,  and  a  hundred  islands  all 
made  in  the  same  pattern,  big  and  round,  might 
have  held  and  fed  the  population  of  the  globe. 
But  man  is  something  more  than  the  animal  which 
wants  lodging  and  food.  He  has  a  spirited  nature, 
full  of  keen  perceptions  and  deep  sympathies.  He 
has  an  eye  for  the  sublime  and  the  beautiful,  and 
his  kind  Creator  has  provided  man's  abode  with 
affluent  materials  for  these  nobler  tastes. 

God  also  made  the  Bible  as  the  guide  and  oracle 
of  man  ;  but  had  He  meant  it  as  a  mere  lesson-book 
of  duty,  a  volume  less  various  and  less  attractive 
would  have  answered  every  end.  A  few  plain 
paragraphs  announcing  God's  own  character  and 
His  disposition  towards  us  sinners  here  on  earth, 
mentioning  the  provision  which  He  has  made  for 
our  future  happiness,  and  indicating  the  different 
duties  which  He  would  have  us  perform,  a  few 
simple  sentences  would  have  sufficed  to  tell  what 
God  is,  and  what  He  would  have  us  to  do.  There 
was  no  need  of  the  picturesque  narrative  and  the 
majestic  poem,  no  need  of  the  proverb,  the  story, 
and  the  psalm.  A  chapter  of  theology  and  another 
of  morals,  a  short  account  of  the  Incarnati(jn  and 
the  great  Atonement,  and  a  few  pages  of  rules  and 
directions  for  the  Christian  life,  might  have  con- 
tained the  vital  essence  of  b'cripture,  and  have 
supplied  us  with  a  Bible  of  simplest  meaning  and 
smallest  size.  And  in  that  case  the  Bible  would 
have  been  consulted  only  by  those  rare  and  wistful , 
spirits  to  whom  the  great  Hereafter  is  a  subject  o^ 
anxiety,  who  are  really  anxious  to  know  what  God 
is,  and  how  they  themselves  may  please  Him.  But 
in  giving  that  Bible  its  Divine  Author  had  regard  to 
the  mind  of  man.  He  knew  that  man  has  more 
curiosity  than  piety,  more  taste  than  sanctity  ;  and 
that  more  persons  are  anxious  to  hear  some  new,  or 
read  some  beauteous,  thing,  than  to  read  or  hear 
about  Cod  and  the  great  salvation.  He  knew  that 
few  would  ever  ask.  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved? 
till  they  came  in  contact  with  the  Bible  itself,  z.ni 
therefore  lie  made  the  Bible  not  only  an  instructive 
book,  but  an  attractive  one— not  only  true,  but 
enticing.  He  filled  it  with  marvellous  incident  and 
engaging  history  ;  with  sunny  pictures  from  old- 
world   scenery,    und   atlecting  anecdotes  from  the 


BIBLE. 


(    «4    ) 


BIBLE, 


patriarch  times.  He  replenished  it  with  stately 
argument  and  thrilling  verse,  and  sprinkled  it  over 
with  sententious  wisdom  and  proverbial  pungency. 
He  made  it  a  book  of  lofty  thoughts  and  noble 
images,  a  buok  of  heavenly  doctrine,  but  withal  of 
early  adajHation.  In  preparing  a  guide  for  immor- 
tality Infinite  Wisdom  gave  not  a  dictionary  nor  a 
grammar,  but  a  Bible,  a  book  which  in  trying  to 
reach  tlie  heart  of  man  should  captivate  his  taste, 
and  which  in  transforming  his  affections  should  also 
expand  his  intellect.  The  pearl  is  of  great  price  ; 
but  even  the  casket  is  of  exquisite  beauty.  The 
sword  is  of  ethereal  temper,  and  nothing  cuts  so 
keen  as  its  double  edge ;  but  there  are  jewels  on 
the  hilt,  an  exquisite  inlaying  on  the  scabbard. 
The  shekels  are  of  the  purest  ore  ;  but  even  the 
scrip  which  contains  tliem  is  of  a  texture  more  curious 
than  any  which  the  artists  of  earth  can  fashion. 
The  apples  are  gold,  but  even  the  basket  is  silver. 
— Hamillon,  1814-1867. 

(494.)  In  me  adaptation  of  the  Word  of  God  to 
intellects  of  all  dimensions,  it  resembles  the  natural 
iight,   which  is   equally  suited    to  the  eye   of  the 
minutest  insect  and  to  the  exten'^ed  vision  of  man. 
—  A^.  B.  Clulow. 

(5.)  The  fxkattstlessness  of  Us  interest. 

(495.)  The  most  learned,  acute,  and  diligent 
student  cannot,  in  the  longest  life,  obtain  an  entire 
knowledge  of  this  one  volume.  The  more  deeply 
he  works  the  mine,  the  richer  and  more  abundant 
he  finds  the  ore  ;  new  light  continually  beams  from 
this  source  of  heavenly  knowledge,  to  direct  the 
conduct  and  illustrate  the  work  of  God  and  the 
ways  of  men ;  and  he  will  at  last  leave  the  world 
confessing  that  the  more  he  studied  the  Scriptures, 
the  fuller  conviction  he  had  of  his  own  ignorance, 
and  of  their  inestimable  value. 

—Sir  Walter  Scott. 

(496.)  It  is  related  of  Dr.  Kennicott,  who  spent 
thirty  years  in  collating  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  and 
resigned  a  valuable  living  because  his  studies  pre- 
vented his  residing  on  it,  that  his  wife  was  accus- 
tomed to  assist  him  in  his  preparations  of  his 
Polyglot  Bible  by  reading  to  him,  as  they  drove  out 
for  an  airing,  the  portions  to  which  his  attention 
was  called.  When  preparing  for  a  drive  the  day 
after  the  great  work  was  completed,  she  asked 
him  what  book  she  should  now  take.  "  Oh,"  ex- 
claimed he,  ^^  let  us  begin  the  Bible," 

(497.)  The  difference  between  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures and  other  writings  is  much  the  same  as  that 
between  the  works  of  art  and  nature.  The  works 
ef  art  appear  to  most  advantage  at  first,  but  will 
not  bear  a  nice  and  repeated  examination  ;  the 
more  curiously  we  pry  into  them,  the  less  we  shall 
admire  them.  But  the  works  of  nature  will  bear  a 
thousand  reviews,  and  yet  still  be  instnictive  and 
wonderful  In  like  manner  the  writings  of  mere 
men,  though  never  so  excellent  in  their  kind,  yet 
strike  and  surprise  us  most  upon  our  first  perusal  of 
them  ;  and  then  flatten  upon  our  taste  by  degrees, 
as  our  familiarity  with  them  increases.  Whereas 
the  word  of  Revelation  is,  like  its  Author,  of  an 
endless  and  unsearchable  perfection,  and  the  more 
reason  still  shall  we  find  to  admire  and  adore  the 
wisdonr  of  the  great  Revealer  of  it. 

— Salter,  184a 


(498.)  There  was  an  eminent  philosopher  who 
had  devoted  a  lifetime  to  the  pursuits  of  science, 
and  not,  as  he  thought,  in  vain.  She  had  crowned 
his  brow  with  laurels,  and  inscribed  his  name  in 
the  temple  of  fame.  In  the  evening  of  his  days,  at 
the  eleventh  hour,  God  was  pleased  to  call  him, 
open  his  eyes,  convert  him  ;  and  now,  he  who  was 
deeply  read  in  science  and  conversant  with  i'it  loftiest  ■ 
speculations,  as  he  bent  his  gray  head  over  the 
Bible  (the  law  spoken  of  in  the  text),  declared  that, 
if  he  had  his  life  to  live  over  again,  he  would  spend 
it  in  the  study  of  the  Word  of  God.  He  felt  like 
a  miner,  who,  after  toiling  long  and  to  little  purpose 
in  search  of  gold,  with  one  stroke  of  his  pick- 
axe lays  open  a  vein  of  the  precious  me'.al  and 
becomes  rich  at  once — the  owner  of  a  vein  that 
grows  the  richer  the  deeper  the  mine  is  driven. 
Such  a  treasure  the  Bible  offers  to  those  whose  eyes 
God  has  opened  to  its  wonders  of  grace  and  glory. 
It  is  inexhaustible.  The  farther,  leaving  the  shore 
with  its  sounding  beach  and  shallow  waters,  you  go 
out  to  sea,  the  deeper  it  grows ;  the  higher  you 
climb  a  hill,  the  wider  grows  the  prospect  of  rolling 
land  and  liquid  plain  ;  the  deeper,  at  least  in  some 
instances,  the  shaft  is  sunk  into  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  richer  minerals  reward  your  labour.  Even 
so.  the  further  and  the  longer  we  pursue  our  investi- 
gations into  Divine  truth,  and  study  the  Bible,  the 
more  it  grows  in  interest  and  in  value.  The  devout 
Christian  discovers  new  beauties  every  day.  We 
never  tire  of  its  pages ;  at  every  new  reading  we 
make  new  discoveries,  and  its  truths  are  always  as 
fresh  as  new-blown  roses  which  nobody  ever  tires  ol 
sme'.ling,  as  each  morning  brings  them  out  blushing 
red  and  bathed  in  dew.  Only  let  a  m^n's  eyes  be 
opened,  and  such  wondrous  things  will  be  seen  in 
the  Bible  that  he  would  part  with  all  his  books 
rather  than  with  that,  esteeming  it  better  not  only 
than  any,  but  than  all  of  them,  and  deeming  those 
his  best  hours  of  study  which  were  spent  in  explor« 
ing  the  mysteries  and  mercies  of  redeeming  love. 

— Guthrie. 

(499.)  The  Bible  is  like  an  ever-flowing  fountain. 
Take  what  we  will,  and  as  much  as  we  will,  we 
ever  leave  more  than  we  take  to  satisfy  the  wants 
of  others.  Neither  the  writers  nor  the  thinkers  of 
any  one  age  can  exhaust  its  fulness.  For  nearly 
eighteen  centuries  men  have  thought  and  written 
upon  that  one  book,  and  if  for  eighteen  more  cen- 
turies men  so  write,  yet  will  there  still  remain  much 
that  calls  for  fresh  examination  and  fuller  inquiry  : 
new  knowledge  to  be  won,  old  truths  to  be  laetter 
and  more  fully  understood.  The  books  of  men  have 
their  day,  and  then  grow  obsolete.  God's  Word 
is  like  Himself,  "  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for 
ever."  Time  passes  over  it,  but  it  ages  not.  Ita 
power  is  as  fresh  as  if  God  spake  it  but  yesterday. 
—R.  Fayne  St}tith,  D.D. 

(6.)  The  permanence  of  its  value. 

(500.)  Whatever  use  man  makes  of  this  standard 
of  truth,  the  standard  itself  remains  fixed,  tried,  and 
unimpaired.  When  I  take  down  a  great  author, 
such  as  Lord  Bacon,  I  find  that  time  has  discovered 
many  errors,  and  rendered  obsolete  many  positions, 
to  be  found  in  that  most  comprehensive  of  human 
minds.  But  I  see  that  time  can  take  nothing  from 
the  J-iible.  I  find  it  a  living  monitor.  Like  the 
sun,  it  is  the  same  in  its  light  and  influence  to  man 
this  day  which  it  was  ages  ago.     It  ran  meet  eveiy 


BIBLE. 


(    85    ) 


BIBLE. 


[)resent  inquiry  ;  it  can  console  under  every  present 
OSS  ;  and  it  can  become,  in  God's  hand,  a  daily  ex- 
citing cause  of  growth  and  comfort. 

—  Cecil,  1 748-1 810. 

(501.)  There  is  a  substance  which  you  must  have 
noticed  cast  on  the  sea-shore — the  medusa,  or  sea- 
nettle,  as  some  sorts  of  it  are  called  ;  an  object 
rather  beautiful  as  its  dome  of  amber  quivers  in  the 
sun.  And  a  goodly  size  it  often  is,  so  large  at 
times  that  you  could  scarcely  lift  it ;  but  it  is  all  a 
watery  pulp  ;  and  if  you  were  carrying  it  home,  or 
trying  to  preserve  it,  the  whole  mass  would  quickly 
trickle  out  of  sight  and  leave  you  nothing  but  a  few 
threads  of  substance.  Now  most  books  are  like  the 
marine  medusa ;  fresh  stranded,  newly  published 
(as  the  expression  is),  they  make  a  goodly  show ; 
but  when  a  few  suns  have  shone  on  them,  the 
crystal  jelly  melts,  the  glittering  cupola  has  vanished, 
and  a  few  meagre  fibres  in  your  memory  are  all  the 
residue  of  the  once  popular  authorship.  If  you  ever 
tried  it  you  must  have  been  struck  with  the  few 
solid  thoughts,  the  few  suggestive  ideas,  which  sur- 
vive from  the  perusal  of  the  most  brilliant  of  human 
books.  Few  of  them  can  stand  three  readings,  and 
of  the  memorabilia  which  you  had  marked  in  your 
first  perusal,  on  reverting  to  them  you  find  that 
many  of  them  are  not  so  striking  or  weighty  or 
original  as  at  first  you  fancied.  But  the  Word  of 
God  is  solid  ;  it  will  stand  a  thousand  readings,  and 
the  man  who  has  gone  over  it  the  most  frequently 
and  the  most  carefully  '"s  the  surest  of  finding  new 
wonders  there.  ^lianiilton,  1814-1867. 

(7.)  Its  unity, 

(502.)  We  take  the  Bible  into  our  hands,  and 
examine  diligently  rts  different  sections,  delivered 
in  different  ages  of  mankind.  There  is  a  mighty 
growth  in  the  discoveries  of  God"s  nature  and  will, 
as  time  rolls  on  from  creation  to  redemption  ;  but 
as  knowledge  is  increased,  and  brighter  light  thrown 
on  the  Divine  purpose  and  dealings,  there  is  never 
the  point  at  which  we  are  brought  to  a  pause  by  the 
manifest  contradiction  of  one  part  to  another.  It  is 
the  wonderful  property  of  the  Bible,  though  the 
authorship  is  spread  over  a  long  line  of  centuries, 
that  it  never  withdraws  any  truth  once  advanced, 
and  never  adds  new  without  giving  fresh  force  to 
the  old.  In  reading  the  Bible,  we  always  look,  as 
it  were,  on  the  same  landscape  ;  the  only  difference 
being,  as  we  take  in  more  and  more  of  its  state- 
ments, that  more  and  more  of  the  mist  is  rolled 
away  from  the  horizon,  so  that  the  eye  includes  a 
broader  sweep  of  beauty.  If  we  hold  converse  with 
Patriarchs  occupying  the  earth  whilst  yet  in  its 
infancy,  and  then  listen  to  Moses,  as  he  legislates 
for  Israel,  to  Prophets  throwing  open  the  future, 
and  to  Apostles  as  they  publish  the  mysteries  of  a 
new  dispensation,  we  find  the  discourse  always 
bearing,  with  more  or  less  distinctness,  on  one  and 
the  same  subject :  the  latter  speakers,  if  we  may 
use  such  illustration,  turn  towards  us  a  larger 
portion  than  the  former  of  the  illuminated  hemi- 
sphere ;  but,  as  the  mighty  globe  revolves  on  its 
axis,  we  feel  that  the  oceans  and  lands,  which  come 
successively  into  view,  are  but  constituent  "parts  of 
the  same  glorious  world.  There  is  the  discovery  of 
the  new  territories  :  but,  as  fast  as  discovered,  the 
territories  combine  to  make  up  one  planet.  There 
is  the  announcement  of  the  new  truths  ;  but,  as  fast 
u  announced,  they  take  their  places  as  parts  of  one 


Immutable  system.  Indeed,  there  is  vast  difference 
between  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  and  the  Psalrr.s  of 
David,  or  the  Prophecies  of  Isaiah.  But  it  is  the 
difference,  as  we  have  just  said,  between  the  land- 
scape whilst  the  morning  mist  yet  rests  on  half  its 
villages  and  lakes,  and  that  same  range  of  scenery 
when  the  noontide  irradiates  every  spire  and  every 
rivulet.  It  is  the  difference  between  the  moon,  as 
she  turns  towards  us  only  a  thin  crescent  of  her 
illuminated  disk,  and  when,  in  the  fulness  of  her 
beauty,  she  walks  our  firmament,  and  scatters  our 
night.  It  is  no  new  landscape  which  opens  on  our 
gaze,  as  the  towii  and  forest  emerge  from  the 
shadow,  and  fill  up  the  blanks  in  the  noble  panor- 
ama. It  is  no  new  planet  which  comes  travelling 
in  its  majesty,  as  the  crescent  swells  into  the  circle, 
and  the  faint  thread  of  light  gives  place  to  the  rich 
globe  of  silver.  And  it  is  no  fresh  system  of  reli- 
gion which  is  made  known  to  the  dwellers  in  this 
creation,  as  the  brief  notices  given  to  patriarchs 
expand  in  the  institutions  of  the  law,  and  under  the 
breathings  of  prophecy,  till  at  length,  in  the  days  of 
Christ  and  His  apostles,  they  burst  into  magni- 
ficence, and  fill  a  world  with  redemption.  It  is 
throughout  the  same  system  for  the  rescue  of  human 
kind  by  the  interference  of  a  surety.  And  revelation 
has  been  nothing  else  but  the  gradual  development 
of  this  system,  the  drawing  up  another  fold  of  the 
veil  from  the  landscape,  the  adding  another  stripe 
of  light  to  the  crescent,  so  that  the  early  fathers  of 
our  race,  and  ourselves  on  whom  "  the  ends  of  the 
world  are  come,"  look  on  the  same  arrangement 
I'or  human  deliverance,  though  to  them  there  was 
nothing  but  a  clouded  expanse,  with  here  and  there 
a  prominent  landmark,  whilst  to  us,  through  the 
horizon  losing  itself  in  the  far-off  eternity,  every 
object  of  personal  interest  is  exhibited  in  beauty  and 
distinctness.  — Melvill. 

(503.)  The  Bible  comes  to  us,  not  like  a  treatise 
consecutively  composed  by  one  man,  or  a  symme- 
trical system  of  philosophy  drawn  out  according  to 
the  requirements  of  modern  thought.  It  is  a  cluster 
of  separate  growths,  going  on  through  ages,  and 
yet,  like  some  vast  old  oak,  or  cedar  of  Lebanon, 
all  its  additions,  to  the  last  and  outermost  twig, 
cohere  around  the  one  trunk,  stand  on  the  one  root, 
and  partake  of  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  original. 
Its  earliest  scenes  are  the  simplest  histories  of  pas- 
toral life ;  its  latest  are  the  inciters  of  renowned 
civilisation.  But  whether  it  speak  in  the  picture 
language  of  the  early  Hebrew,  or  in  the  language  of 
Plato,  its  testimony  to  truth,  virtue,  goodness,  and 
godliness,  is  grandly  one.  If  the  book  itself  has  no 
literary  structure  of  symmetry,  it  harmonises  the 
moral  sense  of  the  ages,  gives  to  the  widely-separ- 
ated periods  of  history  one  mind,  one  heart,  and 
one  interpretation  of  the  universal  aspiration. 

— Beecher. 

(504.)  Consider  what,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  have 
in  this  old  book,  or  collection  of  books,  men  call 
the  Bible.  We  have  in  its  first  chapters  answers  to 
the  universal  questions.  Whence  came  the  world  and 
man  ?  Then  we  have  memorials  of  the  rise  and 
fall  of  the  proudest  empires  the  earth  has  seen. 
We  have  the  story  of  the  development  of  the  niight- 
iest  of  moral  forces,  even  this  Christianity  which  wa 
profess.  We  have  some  predictions  such  as  those 
of  the  diffusion  of  the  Gospel  and  the  dispersion  of 
the  Jews,  whose  fulfilments  are  all  around  us.     And 


BIBLE, 


(    86    ) 


BIBLE. 


its  last  book  is  in  large  measure  devoted  to  the 
satisfying  of  tliat  other  universal  human  craving  by 
wliich  only  is  man's  longing  to  know  the  secrets  of 
the  past  transcended,  even  our  desire  to  discern 
somewhat  of  the  hidden  future.  Thus  this  Bible 
possesses  rounded  completeness.  It  begins  by  tell- 
ing us  how  order  was  brought  forth  from  the  chaos, 
and  it  ends  by  revealing  to  us  the  new  heavens  and 
earth  to  which,  in  the  glory  of  their  redemption,  no 
trace  of  the  curse  of  sin  by  which  they  are  marred 
shall  cleave-  Whence  has  come  this  singular 
perfectness?  The  Bible  is  not  the  production  of 
one  writer  ;  it  is  no  great  epic  or  history  conceived 
and  consummated  by  one  mighty  human  genius. 
For  the  harmony  that  characterises  it,  we  might 
then  reasonably  have  looked.  But  it  is  the  pro- 
duction of  many  writers,  of  different  nations,  of 
varied  tongues.  It  was  commenced  by  Moses  in 
the  deserts  of  Arabia,  and  completed  by  John  in 
the  Island  of  Patmos.  Between  its  commencement 
and  its  close  entire  phases  of  civilisation  appeared 
and  disappeared.  To  its  earlier  penmen  the  very 
speech  of  its  later  writers  was  unknown,  and  to  the 
authors  of  its  closing  half  the  tllalect  of  Moses  and 
of  David  had  become  unintelligible.  And  yet  this 
book,  produced  in  such  far  removed  times,  such 
distant  places,  and  by  such  varied  instrumentality, 
is  one,  and  forms  a  whole  !  Now  is  not  this  itself 
a  pjoof  of  more  than  human  origin?  Was  there 
ever  a  cathedral  constructed  by  means  of  the 
building  by  one  man  of  a  wall,  and  by  another  of  a 
window,  and  by  another  of  an  arch,  and  by  a  fourth 
of  a  doorway,  and  by  a  fifth  of  a  spire,  and  so  on 
through  its  countless  parts,  without  concert,  without 
a  common  plan,  without  an  architect  to  supervise? 
What  would  you  say  to  the  man  who  should  tell 
you  that  thus  originated  the  minster  of  York,  or  St. 
Paul's  in  London,  or  that  Abbey  in  which  repose 
the  ashes  of  England's  noblest  dead,  or  that  mightier 
pile  which  is  Rome's  crowning  glory?  But  shall 
we  believe  that  this  grander  cathedral  of  truth, 
built  through  vaster  space  of  time,  serving  nobler 
ends,  glorious  with  completer  perfectness,  had  no 
architect,  that  its  many  builders  were  not  guided  by 
any  common  plan,  that  its  harmony  is  a  mere 
accident  and  result  of  chance  ? 

— R.  A.  Bertram, 

(8.)  Its  scientific  incorrectness, 

(505.)  The  inspiration  of  the  Bible  is  a  large 
subject.  I  hold  it  to  be  inspired,  not  dictated.  It 
is  the  Word  of  God — the  words  of  man  :  as  the 
former,  perfect  ;  as  the  latter,  imperfect.  God  the 
Spirit,  as  a  sanctifier,  does  not  produce  absolute 
perfection  of  human  knowledge,  nor  has  He  given 
a  perfect  revelation  ;  and  for  the  same  reason  in 
both  cases — the  human  element  which  is  mixed  up 
— else  there  could  have  been  no  progressive  dispen- 
sations. Let  us  take  a  case — the  history  of  the 
creation.  Now  I  hold  that  a  spiritual  revelation 
from  God  must  involve  scientific  incorrectness  :  it 
could  not  be  from  God  unless  it  did.  Suppose  that 
the  cosmogony  had  been  given  in  terms  which  would 
satisfy  our  p-resent  scientific  knowledge,  or,  say, 
rather  the  terms  of  absolute  scientific  truth  :  it  is 

Elain  that,  in  this  case,  the  men  of  that  day  would 
ave  rejected  its  authority  ;  they  would  have  said, 
*'  Here  is  a  man  who  tells  us  the  earth  goes  round 
the  sun  ;  and  the  sky,  which  we  see  to  be  a  stereonia, 
fixed  not  far  up,  is  iufinite  space,  with  no  firmament 
at  all,  and  so  on.     Can  we  trust  one  in  matters  un- 


seen who  is  manifestly  in  error  in  things  seen  and 
level  to  the  senses  ?  Can  we  accept  his  revelatioo 
about  God's  nature  and  man's  duty,  when  he  is 
wrong  in  things  like  these?"  Thus  the  faiih  of  this 
and  subsequent  ages  must  have  been  purchased  at 
the  expense  of  the  unbelief  of  all  previous  ages.  I 
hold  it,  therefore,  as  a  proof  of  the  inspiration  of  the 
Bible,  and  Divinely  wise  to  have  given  a  spiritual 
revelation — i.e.,  a  revelation  concerning  the  truths 
of  the  soul  and  its  relation  to  God — in  popular  and 
incorrect  language.  Do  not  mistake  that  word,  in- 
correct ;  incorrect  is  one  thing,  false  another.  It  is 
scientifically  incorrect  to  say  that  the  sun  rose  this 
morning  ;  but  it  is  not  false,  because  it  conveys  all 
that  is  required,  for  the  nonce,  to  be  known  about 
the  fact,  time,  &c.  And  if  God  were  giving  a  revela- 
tion in  this  present  day.  He  would  give  it  in  modern 
phraseology,  and  the  men  He  inspired  would  talk 
of  sunrise,  sunset,  &c.  Men  of  science  smile  at  the 
futile  attempts  to  reconcile  Moses  and  geology.  I 
give  up  the  attempt  at  once,  and  say,  the  inspiration 
of  the  Bible  remains  intact  for  all  that — nay,  it 
would  not  have  been  inspired  except  on  this  con- 
dition of  incorrectness. 

—F.  W.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(9.)  Its  influence  on  character  and  conduct. 

(506.)  There  is  not  a  book  on  earth  so  favourable 
to  all  the  kind,  and  to  all  the  sublime,  alTections,  or 
so  unfriendly  to  hatred  and  persecution,  to  tyranny, 
injustice,  and  every  sort  of  maln'olence,  as  the 
Gospel.  It  breathes  nothing  throughout  but  mercy, 
benevolence,  and  peace.  .  .  .  Such  of  the  doctrines 
of  the  gospel  as  are  level  to  human  capacity  appear 
to  be  agreeable  to  the  purest  truth  and  soundest 
morality.  All  the  genius  and  learning  of  the 
heathen  world,  all  the  penetration  of  Pythagoras, 
Socrates,  and  Aristotle,  had  never  been  able  to 
produce  such  a  system  of  moral  duty,  and  so 
rational  an  account  of  Providence  and  of  man,  as  ia 
to  be  found  in  the  New  Testament. 

— Beattie,  1735-1803. 

(507.)  If  there  is  any  knowledge  fully  in  our  pos- 
session, it  is  certainly  that  which  comes  to  us  by 
experience.  That  a  certain  material  will  float  in 
the  water  may  be  proved  by  a  knowledge  of  its 
specific  gravity  ;  but  we  will  feel  fully  more  assured 
of  the  fact  if  we  have  seen  it  tried,  and  we  will 
regard  our  answer  to  an  objector,  "  I  have  seen  it 
floating  in  water  frequently,"  as  simply  sufficient  to 
silence  all  ol  actions.  Ay,  we  will  regard  such  a 
statement  as  fully  more  conclusive  than,  "it  mvst 
float,  for  its  specific  gravity  is  lighter  than  water." 
On  this  same  principle— and  it  is  the  principle  of 
common  sense — how  fully  we  can  prove  that  the 
Bible  is  the  Word  of  God  !  Yes,  every  Christian 
carries  the  proof  with  him  in  his  own  experience- 
A  poor  Italian  woman,  a  fruit-seller,  had  received 
the  Word  of  God  in  her  heart,  and  become  per- 
suaded of  the  truth  of  it.  Seated  at  her  modest 
stall  at  the  head  of  a  bridge,  she  made  use  of  every 
moment  in  which  she  was  unoccupied  with  her 
Small  traffic,  in  order  to  study  the  sacred  volume. 
"What  are  you  reading  there,  my  good  woman?" 
said  a  gentleman  one  day,  as  he  came  up  to  the  stall 
to  purchase  some  fruit.  "It  is  the  Word  of  God," 
replied  the  fruit-vendor.  "  The  Word  of  God  1 
Who  told  you  that?"  "  He  told  me  so  Himself." 
"  Have  you  ever  spoken  with  Him,  then?"  The 
poor  woman  felt  a  little  embarrassed,  more  especially 


BIBLE. 


(    87    ) 


BIBLE. 


as  the  gentleman  insisted  on  her  giving  him  some 
proof  of  what  she  believed.  Unused  to  discussion, 
and  feeling  greatly  at  a  loss  for  arguments,  she  at 
length  exclaimed,  looking  upward,  "Can  you  prove 
to  me,  sir,  that  there  is  a  sun  up  in  the  sky  ? " 
"Prove  it  1"  he  replied.  "Why  the  best  proof  is 
that  it  warms  me,  and  that  I  can  see  its  light." 
"So  it  is  with  me,"  she  replied  joyously,  "the 
proof  of  this  Book's  being  the  Word  of  God  is,  that 
It  warms  and  lights  my  soul." 

(508.)  The  mother  of  a  family  was  married  to  an 
infidel,  who  made  a  jest  at  religion  in  the  presence 
of  his  own  children  ;  yet  she  succeeded  in  bringing 
them  all  up  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  I  one  day 
asked  how  she  preserved  them  from  the  influence 
of  a  father  whose  sentiments  were  so  openly  opposed 
to  her  own.  This  was  her  answer:  "Because  to 
the  authority  of  a  father  I  did  not  oppose  the 
authority  of  a  mother,  but  that  of  God.  From 
their  earlier  years  my  children  have  always  seen  the 
Bible  upon  my  table.  This  holy  book  has  con- 
stituted the  whole  of  their  religious  instruction.  I 
was  silent,  that  I  might  allow  it  to  speak.  Did 
they  propose  a  question ;  did  they  commit  any 
fault  ;  did  they  perform  any  good  action ;  I 
opened  the  Bible,  and  the  Bible  answered,  reproved, 
or  encouraged  them.  The  constant  reading  of  the 
Scriptures  has  alone  wrought  the  prodigy  which 
surprises  you." 

(509.)  Many  years  ago,  there  was  a  little  boy, 
named  Alexander.  He  was  the  son  of  Nicholas, 
Emperor  of  Russia,  in  whose  empire  there  were 
many  millions  of  poor  people,  called  serfs.  These 
were  kept  in  a  state  much  resembling  slavery,  and 
were  sold  with  the  lands  on  which  they  lived. 
Many  of  them  were  poor  and  wretched  ;  some  few 
were  prosperous  and  wealthy  ;  but  all  were  under 
the  control  of  the  lords  on  whose  territories  they 
dwelt. 

One  day,  Nicholas  noticed  that  little  Alexander 
looked  very  sad  and  thoughtful,  and  asked  him  of 
what  he  was  thinking. 

"Of  the  poor  serfs,"  replied  the  little  boy; 
"and,  when  I  become  emperor,  I  will  emancipate 
them." 

This  reply  startled  the  emperor  and  his  courtiers ; 
for  they  were  very  much  opposed  to  all  such  plans 
for  the  improvement  of  the  condition  of  the  poor. 
They  asked  little  Alexander  how  he  came  to  think 
of  doing  this,  and  what  led  him  to  feel  so  interested 
for  the  serfs.  He  replied,  "From  reading  the 
Scriptures,  and  hearing  them  enforced,  which  teach 
that  all  men  are  brothers." 

The  emperor  said  very  little  to  his  boy  on  the 
subject,  and  it  was  hoped  that  the  influences  and 
opinions  which  prevailed  in  the  royal  court  would 
gradually  correct  the  boyish  notions  of  the  young 
prince ;  but  this  expectation  was  vain.  The  early 
impressions  of  the  little  boy  grew  deeper  and 
stronger  ;  and  when  at  last  the  gieat  Nicholas  died, 
and  Alexander  was  placed  upon  his  father's  throne,  he 
called  the  wise  statesmen  of  the  land  to  his  councils, 
and  a  plan  of  emancipation  was  formed ;  and  the 
imperial  decree  went  forth,  which  abolished  lerfdom 
throughout  all  the  Russian  Empire. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  God  works  wonders  by  the 
power  of  His  Word.  The  great  fact,  that  God  has 
*'  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men  for  to  dwell 
OQ  all  the  face  of  the  earth,"  lodged  like  aa  incor- 


ruptible seed  in  the  heart  of  the  young  prince,  and 
growing  with  his  growth,  and  strengtliening  with  his 
strength,  at  last  budded  and  blossomed,  and  brought 
forth  the  fruit  of  blessing  for  millions  of  the  human 
race. 

4.  The  doctrine  of  the  Inspiration  of  the  Bible  la 
not  Invalidated  by  the  state  of  the  sacred  text. 

(510.)  You  will  perhaps  be  told  that  no  one  can 
maintain  that  the  words  of  Scripture  are  inspiretl, 
because  no  one  can  tell  for  certain  what  the  words 
of  Scripture  are  ;  or  something  to  that  effect.  Now 
I  will  not  stop  to-  expose  the  falsity  of  this  cliarge 
against  the  text  of  Scripture  (which  is  implied  to  be 
a  very  corrupt  text,  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
the  best  ascertained  text  of  any  ancient  writing  in 
the  world).  Rather  let  me  remind  you,  once  and 
for  ever,  how  to  refute  this  silly  sophism.  See  you 
not  that  the  state  of  the  text  of  the  Bible  has  no 
more  to  do  with  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible  than  the 
stains  on  yonder  windows  have  to  do  with  the  light 
of  God's  sun?  Let  me  illustrate  the  matter  by 
supposing  the  question  raised.  Whether  Livy  did  or 
did  not  write  the  history  which  goes  under  his  name  ? 
You  (suppose)  are  persuaded  that  he  did, — I,  that  he 
did  not,  so  far,  we  should  both  understand,  and  per- 
haps respect  one  another.  But  what  if  I  were  to  go 
on  to  condemn  your  opinion  as  untenable,  because 
of  the  corrupt  state  of  Livy's  text  ?  Would  you  not 
reply  that  I  mistook  the  question  entirely  :  that  you 
were  speaking  of  the  authorship  of  the  work,  not 
about  the  fate  of  the  copies  ?  — Burgon. 

(511.)  These  [interpolated]  words,  phrases,  and 
passages  are  later  additions  to  the  text,  either 
adopted  into  it  upon  an  authoritative  revision,  such 
as  that  ascribed  to  Ezra,  or,  perhaps,  accidentally 
introduced  through  the  mistakes  of  copyists,  who 
brought  into  the  text  what  had  been  previously 
added  by  way  of  exegesis  in  the  margin.  Such 
additions  constantly  occur  in  the  case  of  classical 
writers  ;  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  a 
special  providence  would  interfere  to  prevent  their 
occurrence  in  the  sacred  volume.  We  "have  our 
treasure  in  earthen  vessels."  God  gives  us  His 
Revelation,  but  leaves  it  to  us  to  preserve  it  by  the 
ordinary  methods  by  which  books  are  handed  down 
to  posterity.  No  doubt  its  transcendant  value  has 
caused  the  bestowal  of  especial  care  and  attention 
on  the  transmission  of  the  Sacred  Volume;  and  the 
result  is  that  no  ancient  collection  has  come  down 
to  us  nearly  so  perfect,  or  with  so  few  corruptions 
and  interpolations  ;  but  to  declare  that  there  are 
none,  is  to  make  an  assertion  improbable,  h  priori, 
and  at  variance  with  the  actual  phenomena.  The 
sober-minded  in  every  age  have  allowed  that  the 
written  Word,  as  it  has  come  down  to  us,  has  these 
slight  imperfections,  which  no  more  interfere  with 
its  value  than  the  spots  upon  the  sun  detract  from 
his  brightness,  or  than  a  few  marred  and  stunted 
forms  destroy  the  harmony  and  beauty  of  nature. 

— J\a  wlituon. 

5.  The  doctrine  of  the  Divine  inspiration  of  the 
Scriptures  is  not  essential  to  the  authority  of 
Cliristianity. 

(512.)  1  would  have  these  men  consider,  that 
though  we  doubt  not  but  to  prove  that  Scripture  it 
God's  full  and  infallible  law,  yet,  if  it  were  so  that 
this  could  not  be  proved,  this  would  not  overthrow 
the  Christian  religion.     If  the  Scriptures  were  but 


BIBLE. 


(    88    ) 


BIBLE. 


the  writings  of  honest  men,  that  were  subject  to 
mistakes  and  contradictions,  in  the  manner  and  cir- 
cumstances, yet  they  might  afford  us  a  full  certainty 
of  the  substance  of  Christianity,  and  of  the  miracles 
wrought  to  confirm  the  doctrine.  Tacitus,  Suetonius, 
Livy,  Florus,  Lucan,  &c.,  were  all  heathens,  and 
very  fallible ;  and  yet  their  history  affords  us  a 
certainty  of  the  great  substantial  passages  of  the 
Roman  affairs  which  they  treat  of,  though  not  of 
all  the  smaller  passages  and  circumstances.  He 
that  doubteth  whether  there  was  sach  a  man  as 
Julius  Caisar,  or  that  he  fought  with  Pompey  and 
overcame  him,  &c.,  is  scarcely  reasonable,  if  he  knew 
the  histories;  so  though  Matthew  Paris,  Malmesbury, 
Hoveden,  Speed,  Cambden,  and  our  own  parlia- 
ments that  enacted  our  laws,  were  all  fallible  men, 
and  misiaken  in  divers  smaller  things,  yet  they 
afford  us  a  full  certainty  that  there  was  such  a  man 
as  William  the  Conqueror,  William  Rufus,  &c.  ; 
that  there  were  such  parliaments,  such  lords,  such 
fights  and  victories,  &c.  He  that  would  not  venture 
all  that  he  hath  on  the  truth  of  these,  especially  to 
gain  a  kingdom  by  the  venture,  were  no  better  in 
this  than  mad.  Now,  if  Scripture  were  but  such 
co-iamon  writings  as  these,  especially  joined  with  the 
uncontrolled  tradition  that  hath  since  conveyed  it 
to  us,  may  it  not  yet  give  us  a  full  certainty  that 
Christ  was  in  the  flesh,  and  that  He  preached  this 
doctrine  for  the  substance,  and  wrought  these 
miracles  to  confirm  it,  and  enabled  His  followers  to 
work  the  like,  which  will  afford  us  an  invincible 
argument  for  our  Christianity  ?  Therefore  Grotius, 
&c.,  and  so  the  old  fathers,  when  they  disputed  with 
the  heathens,  did  first  prove  the  truth  of  Christian 
religion  before  they  came  to  prove  the  Divine 
authority  of  the  Scriptures  ;  not  that  we  are  at  any 
such  uncertainty,  or  that  any  Christian  should  take 
up  here,  as  if  the  Scriptures  were  not  infallible  and 
Divine ;  but  being  now  speaking  to  another  sort  of 
men  according  to  their  capacity,  I  say,  if  it  were 
otherwise,  yet  might  we  have  certainty  of  our 
religion.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  Yet  ItB  Inspiration  gives  authority  to  Its 
utterances. 

(513.)  What,  then,  is  the  difference  between 
things  known  to  be  true  by  the  natural  operation 
of  the  mind,  and  things  known  to  be  true  by  super- 
natural influence?  In  the  quality  of  the  things 
known  there  is  no  difference.  Where  a  thing  is 
known  to  be  true,  it  is  no  more  a  truth  because  God 
said  it  than  because  a  man  said  it.  Truth  is  truth, 
whoever  says  it.  But  it  makes  a  great  difierence, 
in  my  receiving  truth,  whether  I  receive  it  as  ac- 
credited by  the  testimony  of  man,  or  as  accredited 
by  the  testimony  of  God. 

We  have  a  familiar  instance  of  the  difference 
between  a  thing  that  is  authoritative  and  one  that  is 
not.  A  private,  in  the  midst  of  battle,  says  to  the 
men  of  his  regiment,  "Look  to  that  charge  upon 
our  Rank  :  we  ought  to  change  front."  Not  a  man 
in  the  ranks  stirs.  This  private  is  right ;  but  a 
private  has  no  authority  to  speak.  But  a  brigadier- 
general  passing,  and  hearing  the  remark,  and  seeing 
the  state  of  affairs,  gives  orders  in  exact  accordance 
with  it  ;  and  instantly  he  is  obeyed.  The  truth  is 
the  same  in  the  mouth  of  the  private  and  in  the 
mouth  of  the  general ;  but  one  is  authorised,  and 
the  other  is  not.  And  the  truth  is  a  thousand  times 
more  influential  when  spoken  by  a  man  who  has  a 


right  to  speak  it  than  when  spoken  by  a  man  who 
has  no  right  to  speak  it. 

Now,  prophets  and  apostles  had  a  right  to  speak 
truths  ;  and  when  spoken,  those  truths  had  a  claim 
upon  the  world  which  they  would  not  have  had  il 
they  had  been  spoken  by  persons  that  were  not 
authenticated.  They  would  have  been  as  true  in  \ 
the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  but  they  would  not 
have  had  the  same  effect.  Divinely  attested  truth 
is  more  powerful  than  truth  that  stands  merely  upon 
its  own  merits.  — Beecker. 

1.  Although  the  Bible  Is  Divinely  inspired,  Its 
revelation  is  necessarily  imperfect. 

(514.)  To  suppose  that  human  words  and  human 
ideas  can  be  adequate  exponents  of  Divine  truths  in 
their  full  perfectness  is  simply  absurd.  As  certainly 
as  a  vessel  can  hold  no  more  than  its  own  measure, 
so  certainly  no  being  can  understand  anything  higher 
than  itself.  The  animals  have  no  power  of  under- 
standing those  qualities  in  which  man  transcends  the 
limits  of  their  nature  ;  man  has  no  power  of  under- 
standing those  qualities  in  which  angels  excel  us; 
the  very  angels  and  archangels  have  no  power  of 
comprehending  God's  infinities.  For  the  finite, 
however  large,  can  never  comprehend  the  Infinite. 
— Ji.  Payne  Smith. 

8.  An  objection  answered. 

(515.)  The  infidel  strikes  his  penknife  through 
this  Book  because  he  says.  If  it  were  God's  book,  the 
whole  world  ivould  have  il.  He  says  that  it  is  not 
to  be  supposed  that  if  God  had  anything  to  say  to 
the  world,  he  would  say  it  only  to  the  small  part  of 
the  human  race  who  actually  possess  the  bible.  To 
this  I  reply,  that  the  fact  that  only  a  part  of  the 
race  receives  anything  is  no  ground  for  believing 
that  God  did  not  bestow  it.  Who  made  oranges 
and  bananas  ?  You  say  God.  I  ask,  how  can  that 
be,  when  thousands  of  our  race  never  saw  an  orange 
or  a  banana?  If  God  were  going  to  give  such 
things,  why  did  He  not  give  them  to  all  ?  The 
argument  that  the  giving  of  the  Bible  to  a  part  of 
the  race  would  imply  a  wicked  partiality  on  the 
part  of  God,  and  consequently  that  He  did  not  give 
it  at  all,  would  prove  that  He  did  not  give  oranges 
and  bananas  to  the  people  of  the  tropics  ;  for  that 
would  be  partiality.  The  fact  is,  that  God  has  a 
right  to  do  as  He  pleases ;  and  He  is  constantly 
partial  in  a  thousand  things.  He  gives  us  a  pleasant 
clime,  while  He  gives  earthquakes  and  tornadoes 
to  Mexico.  He  gives  incomputable  harvests  of 
wheat  to  Sicily,  but  scant  berries,  and  polar  bears, 
and  the  ungainly  walrus  to  the  arctic  inhabitants. 
He  gives  one  man  two  good  eyes,  and  to  another 
none.  He  gives  you  two  feet ;  to  another  man,  no 
feet  at  all.  To  you  He  gives  perpetual  health  ;  to 
another  man,  coughing  consumption,  or  piercing 
pleurisy,  or  stinging  gout,  or  fiery  erysipelas.  He 
does  not  treat  us  all  alike.  If  all  the  human  race 
had  the  same  climate,  the  same  harvests,  the  same 
health,  the  same  advantages,  then  you  might  by 
analogy  argue  that  if  He  had  a  Bible  at  all.  He  would 
give  it  to  the  whole  race  at  the  same  time.  If  you 
say  to  me  that  the  fact  that  the  Bible  is  now  in  the 
possession  of  only  a  small  part  of  the  human  family 
is  proof  that  He  did  not  send  the  Bible,  then  I  say 
that  the  fact  that  only  a  part  of  the  world  has  peaches 
and  apples  proves  that  God  never  made  peaches  and 
applco  J  and  the  fact  that  a  part  of  the  world  has  a 
mild  sunshiny  climate  proves  conclusi\ely  that  God 


BIBLE. 


(    89    ) 


BIBLE. 


does  not  make  the  climate.  Indeed,  I  will  carry 
on  your  argument  until  I  can  prove  that  God  made 
nothing  at  all  ;  for  there  is  not  one  single  physical 
or  intellectual  blessing  that  we  possess  that  has  not 
been  denied  some  one  else.  No  !  No  !  Because 
God,  in  His  sovereign  mercy,  has  given  us  a  book 
that  some  others  do  not  possess,  let  us  not  be  so 
ungrateful  as  to  reject  it — blowing  out  our  own 
lantern  because  other  people  have  not  a  light ;  rend- 
ing off  the  splinters  from  our  broken  bone  because 
other  people  have  not  been  able  to  get  a  bandage  : 
dashing  our  own  ship  on  a  rock  because  other  vessels 
have  not  a  compass  ;  cutting  up  our  own  Bible  with 
a  penknife  because  other  people  have  not  a  revela- 
tion. —  Talmage, 

III.    ITS  GENUINENESS. 

(516.)  Our  certainty  of  the  incorruption  of  the 
Scriptures,  in  all  material  points,  may  yet  consist 
with  some  literal  or  verbal  errors  in  the  copies. 
For  it  is  not  an  apostolical  work  to  deliver  down  to 
posterity  the  writings  or  words  which  the  apostles 
first  wrote  and  spoke  ;  but  it  is  a  human  and  Chris- 
tian work  :  and,  therefore,  though  God  promised  to 
His  apostles  His  Spirit  to  lead  them  into  all 
truth,  and  hath  promised  to  be  with  ministers  in 
preaching  His  Gospel  to  the  end  of  the  world  ;  yet 
hath  He  not  promised  us  the  same  exact  infallibility 
or  impeccability  in  preaching,  as  to  every  circum- 
stance, as  they  had  at  first  in  speaking  or  writing  ; 
nor  hath  He  promised  so  to  guide  every  printer,  or 
the  hand  of  each  transcriber  of  the  Scriptures,  that 
none  of  them  shall  err.  But  our  religion  or  Scrip- 
tures is  nevertheless  certain  in  the  doctrine  for  all 
this  :  for  the  doctrine  depends  not  on  these  slips  or 
questioned  passages. 

We  have  an  infallible  certainty  of  the  printed 
statutes  of  this  land,  that  they  are  not  forged  ;  yet 
may  the  printers  commit  some  errors  in  the  printing 
of  them.  And  will  you  conclude,  if  you  find  a  \vord 
mis})laced,  or  false  printed,  that,  therefore,  it  is 
unci;rtain  whether  ever  the  parliament  made  such  a 
statute  ?  The  lawyers,  also,  and  the  judges  them- 
selves, may  differ  about  the  sense  of  some  passages 
in  those  statutes,  and  some  may  be  of  one  mind, 
and  some  of  another ;  is  the  statute,  therefore, 
counterfeit,  or  is  it  not  obligatory  to  the  subject  ? 
Cambden's  or  Lily's  Grammar  may  be  misprinted, 
or  the  writings  of  Cicero,  Virgil,  or  Ovid,  which 
were  written  before  the  Gospel,  and  yet  we  are  past 
all  doubt  that  the  writings  are  not  forged. 

— Baxter,  1615-169I. 

(517,)  It  is  sometimes  said  that  questions  of  genu- 
ineness are  matters  of  mere  idle  curiosity,  and  that 
authenticity  is  alone  of  importance.  In  an  histori- 
cal work  especially,  what  we  want  to  know  is,  not 
by  whom  it  is  written,  but  whether  the  narrative 
which  it  contains  is  true.  This  last,  no  doubt,  is 
our  ultimate  object;  but  it  not  unfrequently happens 
that,  for  the  purpose  of  deciding  it,  we  have  to 
consider  the  other  point ;  since  the  genuineness  is 
often  the  best  guarantee  of  the  authenticity.  How 
entirely  would  it  change  our  estimate  of  Xenophon's 
"Anabasis,"  were  we  to  find  that  it  was  composed 
under  the  name  of  Xenophon  by  a  Greek  of  the 
time  of  the  Antonines  ?  No  works  are  more  valu- 
able for  history  than  autobiographies;  and  when 
we  come  upon  a  document  claiming  any  such 
character,  it  is  of  great  importance  to  see  whether, 
upon  examination,  the  character  is  sustained  or  uo. 


Given  the  genuineness  of  such  a  work,  and  thg 
authenticity  follows  almost  as  a  matter  of  course, 
unless  it  can  be  shown  that  the  writer  is  unveracious, 
and  wished  to  deceive.  Rationalists  have  not  failed 
to  perceive  the  force  of  this  reasoning  with  resjiect 
to  the  Pentateuch  ;  and  hence  their  laborious 
efforts  to  disprove  its  genuineness. 

— Rawlinsvn, 
IV.    ITS  AUTHENTICITY. 

(518.)  The  Papists  receive  the  Scriptures  on  the 
authoritative,  infallible  judgment  of  their  own 
church,  that  is,  the. Pope  ;  and  I  receive  it  as  God's 
perfect  law,  delivered  down  from  hand  to  hand  to 
this  present  age,  and  know  it  to  be  the  same  book 
which  was  written  by  the  prophets  and  apostles,  by 
an  infallible  testimony  of  rational  men,  friends  and 
foes,  in  all  ages.  And  for  them  that  think  that 
this  lays  all  our  faith  on  uncertainties,  I  answer,  1st, 
Let  them  give  us  more  certain  grounds.  2d,  We 
have  an  undoubted,  infallible  certainty  of  the  truth 
of  this  tradition,  as  I  have  often  showed.  He  is 
mad  that  doubts  of  the  certainty  of  William  the 
Conqueror's  reigning  in  England,  because  he  hath 
but  human  testimony.  We  are  certain  that  the 
statutes  of  this  land  were  made  by  the  same  parlia- 
ments and  kings  that  are  mentioned  to  be  the 
authors  ;  and  that  these  statutes  which  we  have 
now  in  our  books  are  the  same  which  they  made  ; 
for  there  were  many  copies  dispersed.  Men's  lands 
and  estates  were  still  held  by  them.  There  were 
multitudes  of  lawyers  and  judges,  whose  calling 
lay  in  the  continual  use  of  them ;  and  no  one 
lawyer  could  corrupt  them,  but  his  antagonist  would 
soon  tell  him  of  it,  and  a  thousand  would  find  it 
out.  So  that  I  do  not  think  any  man  doubteth  of 
the  certainty  of  these  Acts  being  the  same  as  they 
pretend  to  be.  And  in  our  case  about  the  Scrip- 
tures, we  have  much  more  certainty,  as  I  have 
shown.  These  copies  were  dispersed  all  over  the 
world,  so  that  a  combination  to  cornipt  them  in 
secret  was  impossible.  Men  judged  their  hopes  of 
salvation  to  lie  in  them,  and  therefore  would  surely 
be  careful  to  keep  them  from  corruption,  and  to  see 
that  no  other  hand  should  do  it.  There  were 
thousands  of  ministers  whose  office  and  daily  work 
it  was  to  preach  those  Scriptures  to  the  world,  and 
therefore  they  must  needs  look  to  the  preservmg  of 
them ;  and  God  was  pleased  to  suffer  such  abund- 
ance of  heretics  to  arise,  perhaps  of  purpose  for 
this  end,  among  others,  that  no  one  could  corrupt 
the  Scriptures,  but  all  his  adversaries  would  soon 
have  catched  him  in  it :  for  all  parties,  of  each 
opinion,  still  pleaded  the  same  Scriptures  against 
ail  the  rest,  even  as  lawyers  plead  the  law  of  the 
land  at  the  bar  against  their  adversaries.  So  that 
it  is  impossible  that  in  any  main  matter  it  should 
be  depraved.  What  it  may  be  in  a  letter  or  a 
word,  by  the  negligence  of  transcribers,  is  of  no 
great  moment-  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(519.)  Mr.  Paine,  after  the  example  of  many 
others,  endeavours  to  discredit  the  Scriptures  by 
representing  the  number  of  hands  through  which 
they  have  passed,  and  the  uncertainty  of  the  histori- 
cal evidence  by  which  they  are  supported. 

"  It  is  a  matter  altogether  of  uncertainty  to  us," 
he  says,  "  whether  such  of  the  writings  as  now 
appear  under  the  names  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
mcBt  are  in  the  same  state  in  which  those  collectors 
say  they  found  them ;  or  whether  they  added,  altered, 


BIBLE. 


(    90    ) 


BIBLE. 


•bridged,  or  dressed  them  up. "  It  is  a  good  work 
which  many  writers  have  undertaken,  to  prove  the 
vahclity  of  the  Christian  history,  and  to  show  that 
we  have  as  good  evidence  for  the  truth  of  the  great 
facts  which  it  relates,  as  we  have  for  the  truth  of  any 
ancient  events  whatever.  But  if,  in  addition  to  this, 
h  can  be  proved  that  the  Scriptures  contain  internal 
characteristics  of  Divinity,  or  that  they  carry  in  them 
the  evidence  of  tlieir  authenticity,  this  will  at  once 
answer  all  objections  from  the  supposed  uncertainty 
of  historical  evidence. 

Historians  inform  us  of  a  certain  valuable  medi- 
cine called  Mithrklate,  an  antidote  to  poison.  It  is 
said  that  this  medicine  was  invented  by  Mithridates, 
king  of  Pontus  ;  that  the  receipt  of  it  was  found  in 
a  cabinet,  written  with  his  own  hand,  and  was 
carried  to  Rome  by  Pompey  ;  that  it  was  translated 
into  verse  by  Damocrates,  a  famous  physician  ;  and 
that  it  was  afterwards  translated  by  Galen,  from 
whom  we  have  it.  Now,  supposing  this  medicine 
to  be  efficacious  for  its  professed  purpose,  of  what 
account  would  it  be  to  object  to  the  authenticity  of 
its  history  ?  If  a  modern  caviller  should  take  it  iiito 
his  head  to  allege  that  the  preparation  has  passed 
through  so  many  hands,  and  that  there  is  so  much 
hearsay  and  uncertainty  attending  it,  that  no  de- 
pendence can  be  placed  upon  it,  and  that  it  had 
better  be  rejected  from  our  Materia  Medica, — he 
would  be  asked,  Has  it  not  been  tried,  and  found  to 
be  effectual  ;  and  that  in  a  great  variety  of  instances? 
Such  are  Mr.  Paine's  objections  to  the  Bible,  and 
such  is  the  answer  that  may  be  given  him. 

— Andrew  Indler,  1754-1815. 

(520.)  I  know  that  my  learned  antagonist,  accord- 
ing to  the  policy  of  his  communion,  will  call  upon 
me  to  prove  the  genuineness  and  authenticity  of  the 
sacred  Scriptures.  He  says  we  are  indebted  to 
Romanism  for  the  sacred  Scriptures,  and  that,  if  there 
had  been  no  Roman  Catholic  Church,  we  should 
not  have  had  the  sacred  Scriptures.  Now,  never 
be  deceived  by  such  gross  fallacy.  No  man  in  this 
audience  is  likely  to  be  deceived  by  subtilties  and 
•Dcholastic  sophisms.  There  were  many  other 
Churches  besides  the  Roman  Catholic.  There  were 
the  Waldenses  ;  there  were  the  Greek  Churches  ; 
the  Armenian,  the  Syrian  Churches.  There  were 
many  otlwr  Churches  besides  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  the  most  corrupted  of  all  churches  of  the 
world.  Suppose  now  that  there  is  at  Hammersmith 
a  water  company.  Suppose  I  was  anxious  to  have 
my  bucket  tilled  with  water,  and  made  application  ; 
but  supjjose  the  water  company  came  to  me,  and 
said,  "  Sir,  you  shall  have  no  water  from  us  ;  we 
refuse  to  give  it  you  ;  or,  if  you  do  take  our  water, 
you  must  wear  our  livery,  use  our  buckets,  and 
observe  that  there  is  no  water  in  the  universe  save 
with  us."  What  would  be  my  reply  at  the  moment  ? 
"  Why,  gentlemen,"  I  should  naturally  say,  "there 
is  the  Grand  Junction  Company;  there  is  the 
London  Water  Company;  there  is  the  Middlesex 
Water  Company  ;  there  are  five  or  six  other  com- 
panies, and  I  shall  just  take  the  liberty  of  dipping 
my  bucket  down  into  their  streams,  and  fill  it  from 
them.  So  that  I  can  turn  away  at  once  from  you, 
if  you  keep  to  these  terms,  and  yet  shall  be  able 
to  have  abundance  of  water  ;  1  have  only  to  go  to 
the  next  water  company,  and  I  shall  find  an  ample 
supply."  Now,  just  so  is  it  with  the  Bible  and  the 
Roman  Cathol'c  Church.  My  antagonist  comes 
foiward,   and  he  says,   You  shall  have   no   living 


waters  from  our  company,  the  Roman  Catholit 
hierarchy  ;  we  debar  you  from  that  privilege  ;  or, 
if  you  do  take  them,  you  must  just  give  us  thecrctlit 
of  being  infallible  and  unerrable,  &c.,  &c.  1  will 
concede  no  such  magnificent  assumptions  ;  1  will 
just  go  to  some  other  ecclesiastical  water  company  ■ 
contemporary  with  you,  and  I  will  fill  my  heart  with  ; 
living  streams  from  them,  and  you  shall  not  have 
the  credit  of  having  given  me  one  particle. 

—  Ciimming. 

(521.)  Take  away  the  key-stone,  and  the  arch 
will  fall  a  heap  of  ruins.  There  will  be  the  same 
stones  there,  but  they  will  be  scattered  in  confusion, 
and  useless  for  any  practical  purpose.  You  may 
admire  the  Bible,  you  may  praise  its  poetry,  and 
you  may  say  its  precepts  are  truthful,  loving,  and 
good  ;  but  if  you  doubt  its  authenticity,  you  render 
it  powerless  for  that  for  which  it  was  given — namely, 
to  save  the  souls  of  men.  — Aubrey  Frice. 

V.  AUTHORSHIP  OF  ITS  BOOKS. 

(522.)  The  author's  name  (probably  Samuel)  is 
concealed,  neither  is  it  needful  it  should  be  known  ; 
for  even  as  a  man  that  has  a  piece  of  goki  that  he 
knows  to  be  weight,  and  sees  it  stamped  with  the 
king  s  image,  cares  not  to  know  the  name  of  that 
man  who  minted  or  coined  it :  so  we,  seeing  this 
Book  to  have  the  superscription  of  Ca'sar,  the 
stamp  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  need  not  to  be  curious  to 
know  who  was  the  penman  thereof. 

— Fuller,  1 608- 1 66 1. 

(523.)  T  meet  men  who  do  not  believe  John  wrote 
John's  Gospel.  Well,  what  matters  it  whether  he 
did  or  not  ?  There  is  a  forest  in  England,  it  is 
said,  which  William  the  Conqueror  planted  ;  but 
what  do  I  care  whether  he  planted  it  or  not  ?  If  I 
can  ride  through  it,  why  should  I  care  who  planted 
it  ?  There  are  the  trees,  and  there  is  the  shade  ; 
and  if  I  can  only  enjoy  the  benefits  of  them  that  is 
enough.  Some  men  say  that  the  Psalms  of  David 
are  not  inspired.  I  will  not  now  dispute  whether 
they  are  inspired  or  not  ;  but  I  know  that  no  other 
such  hymnals  ever  went  sounding  on  through  three 
thousand  years  of  the  world's  history,  developing 
power  and  sweetness  as  they  went.  They  sang, 
and  taught  the  world  to  sing.  If  they  are  not 
inspired  they  have  an  admirably  good  substitute 
for  inspiration.  — Beecher. 

VI.  VALUELESSNESS  OF  THE  "  HTGH 
CRITJCISm"  BV  which  THE  GENUINENESS 
AND  AUTHENTICITY  OF  VARIOUS  BOOKS  OF 
SCRIPTURE  ARE  SOUGHT  TO  BE  DISPROVED. 

(524.)  There  is  no  point  in  which  plain  folks  are 
more  apt  to  be  ridiculed  by  those  coteries  which 
give  themselves  fine  literary  airs  than  the  judgment 
formed  upon  the  works  of  great  writers.  To  read 
the  criticisms  which  constantly  appear  in  periotlicals 
of  high  literary  authority,  one  might  think  that 
admiration  is  a  faculty  to  be  exercised  only  witliia 
certain  limits  fixed  by  these  critical  autocrats,  and 
that  any  de]iarture  either  to  the  right  or  to  the  left 
from  the  line  of  their  ordinances,  is  a  fault  against 
good  taste,  and  a  proof  of  defective  education. 
Nevertheless,  it  appears  that  critics  cannot  agree 
among  themselves  even  upon  such  a  question  as, 
whether  a  certain  poem  is  or  is  not  in  the  manner  of 


BIBLE. 


(    91    ) 


BIBLE. 


Milton,    and  is  or  is  not  a  poem  of  merit.     The 

other  day,  Professor  Henry  Morley  wrote  to  the 
"Times"  announcing  that  he  had  discovered  an  un- 
pul)lished  poem  by  the  great  Puritan  bard,  and 
sending  the  piece  to  be  given  to  tlie  world.  It  was 
fovind  on  a  blank  leaf  of  a  volume  of  Milton's 
f>oems  in  the  British  Museum,  and  bore,  as  Mr. 
Morley  avowed,  the  si;^'nnture  of  "J.  M."  The 
Professor  was  delighted  v\  iih  iiis  discovery,  as  pro- 
fessors are  apt  to  be,  and  the  critics  began  to  express 
their  opinions  of  it.  One  able,  wary,  and  often 
severe  literary  censor  laid  emphasis  upon  the 
"subtle  melody'"  pervading  the  lines,  pointedly 
indicating  that  none  but  a  great  poet  could  have 
written  them.  Lord  Winchilsea,  however,  himself 
a  poet  in  a  small  way,  boldly  declared  the  poem  to 
be  rubbish,  maintaining  that  Milton,  unless  actually 
in  dotage,  could  not  have  com[iosed  it.  Hereupon 
enters  on  the  stage  the  assistant  librarian  of  the 
British  Museum,  who  affirms  that  ths  lines  are  not 
Milton's  at  all,  that  the  signature  is  not  "J.  M.," 
but  "P.  M.,"  and  that  the  handwriting  is  not 
Miltan's.  Professor  Morley,  with  the  warmth  of  a 
discoverer,  holds  to  his  point,  and  alleges  the 
signature  to  be  that  of  John  Milton.  Professor 
Masson,  the  biographer  of  Milton,  writes  to  say 
that  he  has  known  the  lines  for  years,  but  doubts 
whether  they  are  Milton's.  The  controversy  is  of 
very  slight  importance,  except  as  it  brings  out  the 
perfect  inability  of  critics  to  agree  upon  any  standard 
whereby  questions  of  literary  merit  may  be  tried. 
If  you  coin  a  sovereign  in  brass,  every  goldsmith  in 
London  will  tell  you  that  it  is  not  gold.  But  when 
you  go  with  a  poem  purporting  to  be  Milton's  to 
famous  critics,  one  pronounces  it  melodious  and 
beautiful,  another  declares  that  the  man  who  wrote 
it  must  have  lost  his  faculties,  while  a  third  affirms 
positively  that  the  poet  to  whom  it  is  imputed  never 
saw  it.  And  yet,  though  criticism  is  the  vaguest 
and  most  vacillating  of  sciences — if  it  deserves  to 
be  in  any  sense  called  a  science — no  professor  of 
chemistry,  anatomy,  or  optics,  dreams  of  taking  so 
high  and  grand  a  tone  as  the  literary  critic.  Each 
small  critical  Jove  plays  upon  his  own  scrannel 
pipe,  and  each  imitates  thunder.  The  moral  of 
this  debate  is  important.  If  English-speaking 
critics,  the  countiymen  of  Milton,  sitting  in  judg- 
ment two  hundred  years  after  his  death,  cannot 
deci<le  whether  a  certain  poem  is  his  or  not,  what 
likelihood  is  there  that  English  or  German  critics, 
judging  Greek  writings  composed  eighteen  centuries 
ago,  are  able  to  determine  whether  an  apostle  might 
or  might  not  have  used  an  expression  which  we 
now  find  in  a  Gospel  or  Epistle  ? 

—  Christian  "V;-/</,  July  24th,  1868. 

VII.    TRANSLATIONS. 

1.  The  Bible  admits  of  translation. 

(525.)  Of  all  books  the  Bible  loses  least  of  its 
force  and  dignity  2f\A  beauty  from  being  translated 
into  other  languages,  wherever  the  translation  is  not 
erroneous.  One  version  may  indeed  excel  another  ; 
in  that  its  diction  may  be  more  expressive,  or 
simple,  or  more  majestic  :  but  in  eveiy  version  the 
Bible  contains  the  sublimest  thoughts  uttered  in 
plain  and  fitting  words.  It  was  written  for  the 
whole  world,  not  for  any  single  nation  or  age  ;  and 
though  its  thoughts  are  above  common  thoughts, 
thev  are  so  as  coming  from  the  primal  Fountain  of 


Truth,  not  as  having  been  elaborated  and  piled  up 
by  the  workings  of  abstraction  and  reflection. 

— Guesses  at  Truth. 

2.  Their  value  and  use. 

(526.)  Translation  it  is  that  opens  the  window, 
to  let  in  the  light  ;  that  breaks  the  shell,  that  we 
may  eat  the  kernel  ;  that  puts  aside  the  curtain, 
that  we  may  look  into  the  most  holy  place ;  that 
removes  the  cover  of  the  well,  that  we  may  come 
by  the  water,  even  as  Jacob  rolled  away  the  stone 
from  the  mouth  of  the  well,  by  which  means  the 
flocks  of  Laban  were  watered.  Indeed,  without 
translation  into  the  vulgar  tongue,  the  unlearned  are 
but  like  children  at  Jacob's  well  (which  was  deep) 
without  a  bucket  or  something  to  draw  with  ;  or 
as  that  person  mentioned  by  Isaiah  (xxix.  Ii)  to 
whom  when  a  sealed  book  was  delivered  wiih  this 
motion,  "Read  this,  I  pray  thee,"  he  was  fain  to 
make  this  answer,  "  I  cannot,  for  it  is  sealed." 

The  veiy  meanest  translation  of  the  Bible  in 
English  contains  the  Word  of  God,  nay,  is  the  Word 
of  God.  As  the  king's  speech,  which  he  uttered  in 
parliament,  being  translated  into  French,  Dutch, 
Italian,  and  Latin,  is  still  the  king's  speech,  though 
it  be  not  inter])reted  by  every  translator  with  the 
like  grace,  nor  peradventure  so  fitly  for  phrase,  nor 
so  expressly  for  sense,  everywhere. 

—  Translators  of  the  English  Version. 

{527).  Bless  God  for  the  translation  of  the  Scrip* 
tures.  The  Word  is  our  sword  ;  by  being  translated, 
the  sword  is  drawn  out  of  its  scabbard.  What  use, 
alas,  could  a  poor  Christian  that  understands  but 
one  language,  which  his  mother  taught  him,  make 
of  this  sword  when  presented  to  him  as  it  is  sheathed 
in  Greek  and  Hebrew  ?  Truly,  he  might  even  fall 
a  weeping  with  John  at  the  sight  of  the  sealed  book, 
because  he  could  not  read  in  it  (Rev.  v.  4).  Oh, 
bless  God  that  hath  sent,  not  angels,  but  men, 
furnished  by  the  blessing  of  God  on  their  indefati- 
gable labours  and  studies,  with  ability  to  roll  away 
the  stone  from  the  mouth  of  this  Fountain  ! 

—  Gwnall,  161 7-1679. 

3.  Are  valuable  In  spite  of  their  inaccuracies 
and  variations. 

(528.)  There  are  many  texts  cited  in  the  New 
Testament  from  the  Se]5tuagint,  where  it  differeth 
from  the  Hebrew  ;  wherein  it  is  utterly  uncertain 
to  us  whether  Christ  and  His  apostles  intended  to 
justify  absolutely  the  translation  which  they  used, 
or  only  to  make  use  of  it  as  that  which  then  was 
known  and  used  for  the  sake  of  the  sense  which  it 
contained.  If  they  absolutely  justify  it,  they  seem 
to  condemn  the  Hebrew,  so  far  as  it  differeth.  If 
not,  why  do  they  use  it,  and  never  blame  it  ?  It 
seemeth  that  Christ  would  hereby  tell  us,  that  the 
sense  is  the  gold,  and  the  words  but  as  the  purse  ; 
and  we  need  not  be  over-curious  about  them,  so  we 
have  the  sense.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

4.  Excellence  of  our  English  version. 

(529.)  No  translation  our  own  country  ever  yet 
produced  hath  come  up  to  that  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testament  ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  the  translators 
of  the  Bible  were  masters  of  an  English  style  much 
fitter  for  that  work  than  any  we  see  in  our  present 
writings  ;  the  which  is  owing  to  the  simplicity  that 
runs  through  the  whole.  — Swift. 

(530.)  The  Bible  is  unquestionably  the  richest 
repository   of  thought    and    imageiy,  and   the  best 


BIBLE. 


(    9a    ) 


BIBLE. 


model  of  pure  style,  that  our  language  can  boast. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  discover  in  its  pages  a  single 
instance  of  atTected  or  bombastic  phraseology  ;  a 
circumstance  probably  arising  from  the  subdued  and 
chastened  tone  of  feeling  with  which  the  translation 
M'as  executed,  and  a  remarkable  specimen  therefore 
-of  the  influence  exerted  on  diction  by  the  moral 
qualities  of  the  writer.  Yet  its  very  simplicity  and 
unostentatious  character  are  attributes  which  render 
it  distasteful,  in  a  critical  point  of  view,  to  sophisti- 
cal and  pretending  minds.  — W.  B.  Clulow. 

(S31-)  Who  will  say  that  the  uncommon  beauty 
and  marvellous  English  of  the  Protestant  Bible  is 
not  one  of  the  strongholds  of  heresy  in  this  country  ? 
It  lives  on  the  ear  like  music  that  can  never  be 
forgotten,  like  the  sound  of  church  bells  which  the 
convert  hardly  knows  how  he  can  forego.  Its 
felicities  often  seem  to  be  almost  things  rather  than 
mere  words.  It  is  part  of  the  national  mind,  and 
the  anchor  of  national  seriousness.  Nay,  it  is 
worshipped  with  a  positive  idolatry,  in  extenuation 
of  whose  gross  fanaticism  its  intrinsic  beauty  pleads 
availingly  with  the  man  of  letters  and  the  scholar. 
The  memory  of  the  dead  passes  into  it.  The  potent 
traditions  of  childhood  are  stereotyped  in  its  phrases. 
The  power  of  all  the  griefs  and  trials  of  a  man  is 
hidden  beneath  its  words.  It  is  the  representative 
of  his  best  moments ;  and  ail  that  there  has  been 
about  him  of  soft,  and  gentle,  and  pure,  and  penitent, 
and  good,  speaks  to  him  forever  out  of  his  English 
Bible.  It  is  his  sacred  thing,  which  doubt  has 
never  dimmed  and  controversy  never  soiled.  It  has 
been  to  him  all  along  as  the  silent,  but  oh,  how 
intelligible,  voice  of  his  guardian  angel ;  and  in  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  land  there  is  not  a  Pro- 
testant with  one  spark  of  religiousness  about  him 
whose  spiritual  biography  is  not  in  his  Saxon  Bible. 
— F.  W.  Faber  {Kotnan  Catholic):  Quoted  in 
"Dublin  Review,"  June,  1853. 

(532.)  The  peculiar  genius,  if  such  a  word  may 
be  permitted,  which  breathes  through  it,  the  mingled 
tenderness  and  majesty,  the  Saxon  simplicity,  the 
preternatural  grandeur,  unequalled,  unapproached, 
in  the  attempted  improvements  of  modern  scholars, 
— all  are  here,  and  bear  the  impress  of  the  mind  of 
one  man,  and  that  man  William  Tyndale. 

— y.  A.  Fioude:  "History  of  England." 

VIll.  THE  BIBLE  AND  OTHER  AUTHORI- 
TIES. 

1.  The  Church. 

(533.)  The  Scripture  is  the  sun  ;  the  Church  is 
the  clock,  whose  hands  point  us  to  and  whose 
sound  tells  us  the  hours  of  the  day.  The  sun  we 
know  to  be  sure,  and  regularly  constant  in  his 
mot:ion  :  the  clock,  as  it  may  fall  out,  may  go  too 
fast  or  too  slow.  We  are  wont  to  look  at,  and 
listen  to  the  clock,  we  know  the  time  of  the  day  ; 
but,  where  we  find  the  variation  sensible,  to  believe 
the  sun  against  the  clock,  not  the  clock  against  the 
sun.  As,  then,  we  would  condemn  him  of  much 
folly  that  shjuld  profess  to  trust  the  clock  rather 
than  the  sun  ;  so  we  cannot  but  justly  tax  the  mis- 
credulity  of  those  who  will  rather  trust  to  the  Church 
than  to  the  Scripture.  — Hall,  1574-1656. 

(534.)  He  that  cannot  see  this  sun  by  its  own 
Kght,  may  in  vain  think  to  go  to  find  it  with  candle 


and  lantern  of  human   testimony   and  argument  | 

not  that  these  are  wanting,  or  useless.  The  testi- 
mony of  the  Church  is  highly  to  be  reverenced, 
because  to  it  are  these  oracles  of  God  delivered,  to 
be  kept  as  a  sacred  depositum  and  charge  ;  yea,  it  is 
called  the  pillar  and  ^ound  of  truth  (i  Tim.  iii.  15), 
and  the  candlestick  (Rev.  i.  12),  from  whence  the 
light  of  the  Scriptures  shines  forth  into  the  world  ; 
but  who  will  say,  that  the  proclamation  of  a  prince 
hath  its  authentickness  from  the  pillar  it  hangs  on 
in  the  market  cross?  or  that  the  candle  hath  its 
light  from  the  candlestick  it  stands  on  ?  The  oflfice 
of  the  Church  is  tninistcrinl,  to  publish  and  make 
known  the  Word  of  God  ;  but  not  magisterial  and 
absolute,  to  make  it  Scripture,  or  unmake  it,  as  she 
is  pleased  to  allow  or  deny  her  stamp.  This  were 
to  send  God  to  man  for  His  hand  and  seal  ;  and  to 
do  by  the  Scriptures,  as  Tertullian  saith  in  his 
Apoiog\<  the  heathens  did  with  their  gods,  who  were 
to  pass  the  senate,  and  gain  their  good-will  before 
they  might  be  esteemed  deities  by  the  people. 

— Gurtiall,  1617-1679. 

2.  Conscience. 

(535.)  Scripture,  being  the  Word  of  God,  has 
sometimes  directly,  sometimes  almost  unconsciously, 
but  still  really,  been  recognised  by  the  Church  in 
all  ages  throughout  all  Christendom  as  the  guide  of 
life.  This  office  Scripture  holds,  not  as  the  rival, 
but  as  the  instructor  and  assistant  of  the  conscience 
and  the  reason.  God's  other  lights  are  not  extin- 
guished, but  made  to  burn  all  the  brighter,  and  give 
a  truer  guidance  to  man,  when  quickened  by  the 
Word.  The  written  Word  is  like  the  stream  ol 
pure  oxygen  causing  the  dim  natural  light  on  which 
it  is  poured  to  burn  up  with  a  brightness  and  clear* 
ness  which  seems  almost  supernatural.  The  office, 
then,  of  the  Word  of  God,  is  to  make  the  conscience 
an  enlightened  Christian  conscience — the  reason  an 
enlightened  Christian  reason.  — Tait. 

(536.)  "The  distinct  uses  of  Holy  Scripture,  in 
all  that  relates  to  morals  and  of  natural  conscience, 
may  be  illustrated  by  the  comparison  of  a  sun-dial 
and  a  clock.  The  clock  has  the  advantage  of  leing 
always  at  hand,  to  be  consulted  at  any  hour  of  the 
day  or  night ;  but  then  the  clock  is  liable  to  go 
wrong,  and  vary  from  the  true  time.  And  it  has 
no  power  in  itself  of  correcting  its  own  errors,  so 
that  these  may  go  on  increasing  to  any  extent,  un- 
less it  be  from  time  to  time  regulated  by  the  dial, 
which  is  alone  the  unerring  guide.  Thus  our  con- 
sciences are  liable  to  deceive  us  even  to  the  greatest 
extent,  or  to  give  wrong  judgment,  if  they  are  not 
continually  corrected  by  a  reference  to  the  Word  of 
God,  which  alone,  like  His  sun  in  the  natural 
world,  affords  an  infallible  guide." 

—  Quoted  by  Goulbum. 

3.  Reason. 

(537.)  The  telescope,  we  know,  brings  within 
the  sphere  of  our  own  vision  much  that  would  be 
undiscoverable  by  the  naked  eye  ;  but  we  must  not 
the  less  employ  our  eyes  in  making  use  of  it,  and  we 
must  watch  and  calculate  the  motions  and  reason 
on  the  appearances  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  which 
are  visible  only  through  the  telescope,  with  the  same 
care  we  employ  in  respeci  to  those  seen  by  the 
naked  eye.  And  an  analogous  procedure  is  re- 
quisite if  we  would  derive  the  intended  benefit 
from  the  pages  of  inspiration,  which  were  designed, 
not  to  save  us  the  trouble  of  inquiring  and  reflecting. 


BIBLE. 


(    93    ) 


BIBLE. 


but  to  enable  us  on  some  points  to  inquire  and 
reflect  to  better  purpose ;  not  to  supersede  the 
use  of  our  reason,  but  to  supply  its  deficiencies. 

—  IVhately. 

4.  Modern  science. 

(538.)  It  may  be  said  that  as  space  is  the  sphere 
in  which  Divine  power  is  displayed,  time  is  the 
sphere  for  displaying  Divine  wisdom.  And  as 
power  demands  vast  depths  of  space,  immense 
tields  where  suns  and  stars  may  be  spread  out 
in  their  mighty  masses  and  movements,  so  wisdom 
demands  lengthened  eras  of  time  to  unfold  its 
plans  in  all  their  gradual  developments  and  wonder- 
ful combinations.  Over  all  these  developments 
the  mind  of  Christ  presides.  He  is  the  God  of 
histoiy,  and  His  wisdom  is  especially  seen  in  the 
way  in  which  the  truths  of  His  Word  open  out 
with  a  light  suited  to  the  requirements  of  every 
period.  We  do  not  speak  of  prophecies  which 
meet  their  fulfilment,  but  of  principles  which  spring 
forth  to  guide  men,  as  the  star  came  kindling  out  of 
the  sky  to  point  the  way  to  those  whose  hearts 
were  feeling  after  the  world's  Redeemer. 

No  crisis  has  ever  yet  appeared  when  Christ's 
Word  was  not  ready  to  take  the  van  of  human 
movement.  The  truths  in  their  particular  applica- 
tion may  have  lain  unmarked,  or  revealed  themselves 
jnly  to  a  few  sentinels  watching  for  the  dawn,  till 
iome  great  turn  in  the  life  of  humanity  comes,  and 
then  the  principles  of  freedom  and  right,  and 
universal  charity  shine  out  so  clear  and  undoubted, 
that  men  wonder  at  their  past  blindness.  They 
were  there  centred  in  the  life  and  de'ath  of  the  Son 
of  God,  and  His  wisdom  is  seen  both  in  having 
deposited  them  ages  ago,  and  in  bringing  them  out 
to  view  at  the  fitting  season.  When  so  it  is,  we 
need  not  fear  any  want  of  harmony  between  the 
A'ord  of  Christ  and  the  progress  of  science.  It  is  a 
subject  that  troubles  not  a  fev/,  but,  if  they  would 
only  wait  in  calmness,  the  wisdom  of  Christ  will 
ippear  in  this  also,  and  God's  revelation  will  be 
seen  to  step  across  the  burning  shares  in  its  path, 
without  the  seeming  consciousness  of  an  ordeal. 
It  was  never  Chrift's  intention  to  reveal  scientific 
truth  in  His  Word  ;  but  He  has  left  ample  verge  and 
scope  for  it.  Tlie  indentations  of  the  two  revolving 
wheels  will  be  found  to  fit,  whenever  they  really 
come  into  contact ;  and  the  only  thing  broken  will 
be  the  premature  human  harmonisings  which  are 
thrust  in  between  them.  — Ker, 

(539.)  One  wonders  how  the  men  who  now 
assail  our  faith  can  hope  for  success  where  llobber 
and  Bolingbroke,  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  David 
Hume  and  Gibbon,  giants  in  genius  and  in  intellect, 
totally  failed.  Christians,  possessing  their  souls  in 
patience  and  peace,  may  calmly  contemplate  the 
puny  assaults  of  modern  infidelity.  There  is  little 
in  these  to  fill  our  camp  with  alarm,  or  to  make 
its  Eli'j  tremble  for  the  ark  of  God.  Assailing  the 
faith  from  new  ground,  infidelity  undertakes  to 
prove  the  Bible  false  from'  its  alleged  discrepancy 
with  the  phenomena  of  nature  and  the  discoveries 
of  science.  But  a  few  years,  we  doubt  not,  will 
show  that  though  she  has  changed  her  ground,  she 
has  not  changed  her  doom.  He  that  sitteth  in  the 
heavens  shall  laugh,  and  the  Lord  shall  have  them 
in  derision.  Science  may,  as  science  has  already 
done,  guide  us  to  a  sounder  understanding  of  some 
things  in  the  Word  of  God.     While  she  corrects  any 


mistake  into  which  the  interpreters  of  Scriptm-e 
have  fallen,  there  is  nothing  to  dread.  Why  do 
the  heathen  rage?  The  only  result  of  using  the 
facts  of  science  to  undermine  the  foundations  of 
religion,  will  resemble  that  wrought  by  some  angry 
torrent  when,  sweeping  away  soil,  and  sand,  and 
rubbish,  it  lays  bare,  and  thereby  makes  more 
plain,  the  solid  rock  on  which  the  house  stands, 
unmoved  and  unmovable.  — Guthrie, 


IX.    ITS  FUNCTION  AND  PURPOSE. 

(540.)  It  is  never  forgotten  that  we  are  moral 
agents ;  that  we  have  powers  to  be  disciplined  and 
cultivated,  and  that  our  grand  business  here  is  not 
to  gratify  our  curiosity,  but  to  secure  our  salvation. 
Would  not  all  the  essential  purposes  of  a  revelation 
be  answered,  if  it  would  enable  us  to  secure  tlie 
salvation  of  our  souls?  Should  it  be  a  seiious 
objection  to  it  if,  while  it  did  this,  it  did  not  also  cast 
light  on  a  thousand  other  points,  however  interesting 
and  important  they  might  be  ?  And  should  wc 
reject  it,  and  spurn  it,  because  there  are  many 
things  which  it  leaves  in  the  dark  ;  many  questions 
which  are  unanswered  ?  Revelation  to  us  is  not 
like  the  broad  and  clear  sun  that  sheds  down  its 
rays  on  the  spread-out  landscape,  covered  witli 
smiling  fields,  and  flocks,  and  hamlets  ;  disclosing 
each  tree,  and  hill,  and  house,  and  the  wiriding 
course  of  each  rivuli.'t  ;  it  is,  to  use  an  illustration 
suggested  by  another,  like  the  lighthouse  that 
gleams  on  a  dark  and  stormy  coast,  to  reveal  the 
haven  to  the  ocean-tossed  mariner.  "It  shines 
afar  over  the  stormy  ocean,  only  penetrating  a 
darkness  which  it  was  never  intended  to  expel.'' 
The  mariner  can  see  that  light  clearly.  It  guides 
him.  It  cheers  him  when  the  tempest  beats  arouno 
him,  and  when  the  waves  roll  high.  It  shows  him 
where  the  port  is.  It  assures  him  that  if  he  reaches 
that  spot,  he  is  safe.  It  is  all  that  he  wants  from 
that  shore  now,  amid  the  darkness  of  the  night,  to 
guide  him.  True,  it  is  not  a  sun ;  it  does  not 
dissipate  all  the  darkness;  "it  is  a  mere  star, 
showing  nothing  but  itself,  perhaps  not  even  its 
own  reflection  on  the  waters."  But  it  is  enough. 
There  it  stands,  despite  the  storm  and  the  darkness, 
to  tell  the  mariner  just  what  he  wishes  to  know, 
and  no  more.  It  has  saved  many  a  richly-freighted 
bark,  and  all  that  he  needs  is  that  it  will  save  his 
own.  It  tells  him  there  is  a  haven  there,  and  that 
is  all  he  wants  ;  though  it  leaves  him  all  uninformed 
about  everything  else.  Beyond  the  distance  where 
it  throws  its  beams,  all  is  midnight.  On  a  thousand 
questions,  on  which  curiosity  might  be  excited,  it 
casts  no  light  whatever.  "  The  cities,  the  towns, 
the  green  fields,  the  thousand  happy  homes,  which 
spread  along  the  shores,  to  which  it  invites  him,  it 
does  not  reveal."  On  a  calmer  sea,  curiosity 
would  be  glad  to  know  all  about  that  land  on  which 
that  light  stands,  and  to  anticipate  the  time  wncn, 
safe  from  danger,  the  feet  might  range  over  those 
fields  "beyond  the  swelling  flood."  And  so,  too, 
all  is  dark  in  reference  to  that  stormy  expanse  over 
which  the  mariner  has  sailed,  and  all  around  him, 
as  well  as  on  the  land  to  which  he  goes ;  but  shall 
he  therefore  reject  the  aid  of  that  light  because  it 
discloses  no  more  ?  shall  he  refuse  its  assistance  in 
guiding  his  vessel  into  port,  because  it  does  not  dis- 
close to  him  all  that  is  in  that  land,  or  shec^  a  flood 
of  day  on  the  heavens  above  him,  and  on  all  that 
stormy  ocean. on  which  he  is  embarked? 


BIBLE. 


(    94    ) 


BIBLE. 


So  is  it  in  respect  to  the  Gospel.  Man  too  is  on 
a  stormy  ocean — the  ocean  of  life,  and  ni;,'ht  is  very 
dark.  There  are  tempests  that  beat  around  us ; 
onder-currents  that  would  drift  us  into  unknown  seas  ; 
rocks  that  make  our  voyage  perilous.  The  Gospel 
is  a  light  "standing  on  the  dark  shore  of  eternity, 
just  simply  guiding  us  there."  It  reveals  to  us 
almost  nothing  of  the  land  to  which  we  go,  but 
only  the  way  to  reach  it.  It  does  nothing  to  answer 
the  thousand  questions  which  we  would  aslc  about 
the  world,  but  it  tells  how  we  may  see  it  with  our 
own  eyes.  It  does  not  tell  us  all  about  the  past — 
the  vast  ocean  of  eternity  that  rolled  on  countless 
ages  before  we  had  a  beginning  ;  about  the  govern- 
ment of  God  ;  about  our  own  mysterious  being ; 
but  it  would  guide  us  to  God's  "holy  hill  and  taber- 
nacle," where  in  His  "light  we  may  see  the  light," 
and  when  what  is  now  obscure  may  become  as  clear 
as  noonday.  If  these  are  correct  views,  then  it 
follows  that  the  Bible,  as  a  revelation  from  God, 
was  not  designed  to  give  us  all  the  information 
which  we  might  desire,  nor  to  solve  all  the  questions 
about  which  the  human  mind  is  perplexed,  but  to 
impart  enough  to  be  a  safe  guide  to  the  haven  of 
eternal  rest.  — Barnes,  1798- 1870. 

(541.)  Formerly  the  Biblr  was  regarded  as  an 
encyclopedia — as  a  guide  to  all  knowledge.  Devout 
men  have  sought  for  authority  in  texts  for  eveiy 
phase  of  conduct.  Tlie  impression  has  prevailed 
that  there  was  no  element  in  life  for  which  there 
was  not  some  authoritative  direction  in  the  Word 
of  God.  It  is  true  that  indirectly  the  Bible  touches 
every  human  interest,  but  it  is  not  an  encyclopaedia, 
nor  a  universal  text-book  of  knowledge.  By  en- 
lightening the  understanding,  purifying  the  consci- 
ence, and  changing  the  heart,  truth  prepares  men  for 
every  function  and  department  of  life.  But  the 
Bible  only  attempts  to  touch  the  master-spring  of 
character,  and  so  to  set  men  right  with  God,  with 
themselves,  and  with  their  fellow-'i/rn.  Having 
done  that,  it  leaves  them  to  work  rjn.  the  details  of 
the  various  departments  of  life  tnemselves. 

Its  office  may  be  compared  to  a  key  which  winds 
up  a  machine  that  has  run  down.  It  undertakes  to 
bring  man  where  he  shall  be  qualified  for  all  the 
duties  of  life.  It  does  not  undertake  to  teach  every- 
thing that  men  do  in  the  light ;  it  merely  furnishes 
the  light  to  do  what  their  circumstances  and  neces- 
sities require  to  be  done.  The  Word  of  God  is 
bread.  Bread  does  not  undertake  to  reap  the 
harvest,  or  plough  the  field,  or  blast  the  rock,  or 
delve  in  the  mine,  or  fish  in  the  sea,  but  it  makes 
a  man  strong,  so  that  he  can  do  it. 

"That  is  narrowing  the  Bible,  and  bringing  it 
within  a  very  small  compass."  I  beg  your  pardon  ; 
it  is  not  narrowing  it  at  all.  Is  not  the  key  that 
winds  the  clock  the  most  important  thing  that  you 
can  bring  to  the  clock  ?  Is  not  the  clock  helpless 
without  it?  It  is  a  little  thing,  it  goes  into  a  small 
hole,  and  in  turning  it  makes  but  little  noise  ;  but, 
after  all,  it  controls  the  whole  economy  of  the  clock. 
The  clock  is  wound  up  by  it.  Now  the  Bible  is 
the  key  that  winds  up,  and  sets  in  motion,  and 
regulates  all  human  life  and  conduct.    — Beecher, 

(542.)  I  hold  that  the  Word  of  God  as  a  guide  m 
the  formation  of  dispositions,  in  the  regulation  of 
conduct  and  character,  in  the  founding  of  hope  for 
this  life  and  for  the  life  which  is  to  come,  is  a  reli- 
able guide,  is  a  sufficient  instructor,  about  which 


all  honest  men  do  in  the  main  agree.  But  if  you 
undertake  to  erect  a  cosmogony,  and  to  say  that  the 
Bible  lays  down  a  perfect  system,  a  complete  scheme 
of  philosopliy  ;  if  you  go  beyond  that,  and  claim 
that  it  prescribes  a  definite  plan  for  a  church,  a 
church  order,  and  a  church  government ;  and  if  you 
include  in  its  economy  moral  philosophy  in  the  form 
of  theology,  I  say  that  the  Word  of  God  is  not 
sufficient  for  these  things  ;  and  men  disagree  about 
the  Bible  because  they  are  undertaking  to  do  vi'ith 
it  what  it  was  never  intended  to  effect.  Everything 
to  its  own  function.  A  lancet  for  the  vein — not  for 
digging  the  soil ;  a  telescope  for  the  eye — not  for 
sound  ;  a  cap  for  the  head — not  for  the  hands  or  feet. 
A  table  of  logarithms  in  the  sphere  of  morals  would 
be  a  poor  substitute  for  the  Ten  Commandments, 
but  not  worse  than  the  Ten  Commandments  in 
navigation.  Is  an  anchor  not  good  because  it  will 
not  travel  like  a  carriage  ?  Is  a  treatise  on  medicine 
not  useful  because  it  affords  no  instruction  in  geo- 
graphy or  history  ?  — Beecher, 

X.  A  PERFECT  AND  PLAIN  RULE  Of 
LIFE. 

(543.)  If  the  Scriptures  be  an  infallible  rule,  and 
"profitable  for  doctrine  and  instruction  in  righteous- 
ness;" i.e.,  to  teach  us  to  believe  and  do;  it  fol- 
lows of  necessity  that  they  are  sufficiently  plain  in 
all  things  necessary  to  faith  and  a  good  life,  other- 
wise they  could  not  be  useful  "for  doctrine  and 
instruction  in  righteousness  ;  "  for  a  rule  that  is  not 
plain  to  us  in  these  things,  in  which  it  is  necessary 
for  us  to  be  directed  by  it,  is  of  no  use  to  us  ;  that 
is,  in  truth,  it  is  no  rule.  For  a  rule  must  have  these 
two  properties  ;  it  must  be  perfect,  and  it  must  be 
plain.  The  Scrijitures  are  a  perfect  rule,  because 
the  writers  of  them,  being  Divinely  inspired,  were 
infallible.  And  they  must  likewise  be  plain  ;  other- 
wise though  they  be  never  so  perfect,  they  can  be 
of  no  more  use  to  direct  our  faith  and  practice,  than 
a  sun-dial  in  a  dark  room  is  to  tell  us  the  hour  of 
the  day  ;  for  though  it  be  never  so  exactly  made, 
unless  the  sun  shine  clearly  upon  it,  we  had  as  good 
be  without  it.  A  rule  that  is  not  plain  to  us,  what- 
ever it  may  be  in  itself,  is  of  no  use  at  all  to  us,  till 
it  be  made  plain  and  we  understand  it.   .   .   . 

It  is  not  necessary  that  a  rule  should  be  -so  plain 
that  we  should  perfectly  understand  it  at  first  sight ; 
it  is  sufficient,  if  it  be  so  plain  that  those  of  better 
capacity  may,  with  due  diligence,  come  to  a  true 
knowledge  of  it,  and  those  of  a  more  ordinary 
capacity  by  the  help  of  a  teacher.  Euclid's  "  Ele- 
ments "  is  a  book  sufficiently  plain  to  teach  a  man 
geometry  ;  but  yet  not  so  plain  that  any  man  at  first 
reading  should  understand  it  perfectly  ;  but  that,  by 
diligent  reading,  and  steady  attention  of  mind,  a 
man  of  extraordinary  sagacity  may  come  to  under- 
stand the  principles  and  demonstrations  of  it  ;  and 
those  of  a  more  ordinary  capacity,  with  the  help  of 
a  teacher,  may  come  to  the  knowledge  of  it.  So, 
when  we  say  that  the  Scriptures  are  plain  in  all 
things  necessary  to  faith  and  a  good  life,  we  do  not 
mean  that  every  man,  at  first  hearing  or  reading  of 
these  things  in  it,  shall  perfectly  understand  them  ; 
but,  by  diligent  reading  and  consideration,  if  he  be 
of  good  apprehension  and  capacity,  he  may  come  to 
a  sufficient  knowledge  of  them  ;  and  if  he  be  of  a 
meaner  capacity,  and  be  willing  to  learn,  he  may, 
by  the  help  of  a  teacher,  be  brought  to  understand 
them  without  any  great  pains ;   and  such  teachers 


BIBLE. 


(    95     ) 


BIBLE. 


God  hath  appointed  in  His  Church  for  this  very 
purpose,  and  a  succession  of  them  to  continue  to  the 
end  of  the  world. 

In  a  word,  when  we  say  the  Scriptures  are  plain 
to  all  capacities  in  all  things  necessary,  we  mean, 
that  any  man  of  ordinary  capacity,  by  his  own  dili- 
gence and  care,  in  conjunction  with  the  helps  and 
advantages  which  God  hath  appointed,  and  in  the 
due  use  of  them,  may  attain  to  the  knowledge  of 
everything  necessary  to  his  salvation  ;  and  that 
there  is  no  book  in  the  world  better  fitted  to  teach 
a  man  any  art  or  science,  than  the  Bible  is  to  in- 
struct men  in  the  way  to  heaven  ;  and  it  is  every 
man's  fault  if  he  be  ignorant  of  anything  necessary 
for  him  to  believe,  or  do,  in  order  to  his  eternal 
happiness.  — liUotson^  1620-1694, 

XI.   ITS  INTERPRETA  TIOIT. 

(544.)  In  the  waters  of  life,  the  Divins  Scriptures, 
there  are  shallows,  and  there  are  deeps ;  shallows 
where  the  lamb  may  wade  ;  and  deeps  where  the 
elephant  may  swim.  If  we  be  not  wise  to  distin- 
guish, we  may  easily  miscarry  ;  he  that  can  wade 
over  the  ford,  cannot  swim  through  the  deep  ;  and, 
if  he  mistake  the  passage,  he  drowns.  What  in- 
finite mischief  hath  arisen  to  the  Church  of  God 
from  the  presumption  of  ignorant  and  unlettered 
men,  that  have  taken  upon  them  to  interpret  the 
most  obscure  Scriptures,  and  pertinaciously  defend 
their  own  sense !  How  contrary  is  this  to  all 
practice,  in  whatsoever  vocation  !  In  the  tailor's 
trade,  every  man  can  stitch  a  seam,  but  every  man 
cannot  cut  out  a  garment  ;  in  the  sailor's  art  every 
one  may  be  able  to  pull  at  a  cable,  but  every  one 
cannot  guide  the  helm  ;  in  the  physician's  profession, 
every  gossip  can  give  some  ordinary  receipts  upon 
common  experience,  but  to  find  the  nature  of  the 
disease,  and  to  prescribe  proper  remedies  from  the 
just  grounds  of  art,  is  proper  to  the  professor  of  that 
science,  and  we  think  it  absurd  and  dangerous  to 
allow  every  ignorant  mountebank  to  practise  ;  in 
matters  of  law,  every  plain  counti-yman  knows  what 
belongs  to  distraining,  impounding,  replcN'ying,  but, 
to  give  sound  counsel  to  a  client  in  a  point  of  diffi- 
culty, to  draw  conveyances,  to  plead  effectually,  and 
to  give  sound  judgment  in  the  hardest  cases,  is  for 
none  but  barristers  and  benchers ;  and  shall  we 
think  it  safe,  that  in  divinity  which  is  the  mistress 
of  all  science,  and  in  matters  which  may  concern  the 
eternal  safety  of  the  soul,  every  man  should  take 
upon  him  to  shape  his  own  coat,  to  steer  his  own 
way,  to  give  his  own  dose,  to  put  and  adjudge  his 
own  case  ?  The  old  word  was.  That  artists  are 
worthy  to  be  trusted  in  their  own  trade.  Where- 
fore hath  God  given  to  men  skill  in  arts  and  tongues? 
Wherefore  do  the  aptest  wits  spend  their  time  and 
studies  from  their  infancy  upon  these  sacred  employ- 
ments, if  men  altogether  inexpert  in  all  the  grounds, 
both  of  art  and  language,  can  be  able  to  pass  as 
sound  a  judgment  in  the  depths  of  theological  truths, 
as  they?  IIow  happy  were  it,  if  we  could  all  learn, 
according  to  that  word  of  the  apostle,  to  keep  our- 
selves within  our  own  line  ! 

—Hall,  1 574-1656. 

{54S')  Compare  Scripture  with  Scripture.  False 
doctrines,  like  false  witnesses,  agree  not  among 
themselves.  — Giirnall,  1617-1679. 

(546.)  The  Scripture  is  to  bt  its  own  interpreter, 
or  rather  the  Spirit  speaking  in  it  ;  nothing  can  nu 


the  diamond  but  the  diamond  ;  nothing  can  interoret 
Scripture  but  Scripture.  — Watson,  1690. 

(547- )  An  over-subtle  scrutiny  of  the  words  of  a 
sentence  sometimes  impairs  our  perception  of  its 
force.  Nor  are  the  inspired  sentences  of  Holy 
Scripture  exceptions  to  this  rule.  As  by  dissecting 
a  dead  body  in  an  anatomy  school  you  could  gain 
no  notion  of  the  contour,  general  bearing,  and 
power  of  the  living  body  ;  as  by  bringing  a  micro- 
scope to  bear  upon  the  vein  of  an  insect's  wmg  you 
could  form  no  just  conception  of  that  insect,  as  it 
disports  itself  in  the  summer  sun  ;  so  by  entering 
with  too  great  minuteness  into  the  language  of  Holy 
Scripture,  it  is  possible  to  miss  (or  at  least  to  appre- 
hend but  feebly)  its  great  purport.      — Coulburn. 

(548.)  As  many  locks,  whose  wards  differ,  are 
opened  with  equal  care  by  one  master-key,  so  there 
is  a  certain  comprehensive  view  of  Scriptural  truth 
which  opens  hard  places,  solves  objections,  and 
happily  reconciles,  illustrates,  and  harmonises  many 
texts,  which  to  those  who  have  not  this  master-key, 
frequently  styled  "the  analogy  of  faith,"  appear 
little  less  than  contradictory  to  each  other.  When 
we  obtain  this  key,  we  shall  be  sure  to  obtain  the 
right  sense.  — Ldfchild. 

(549.)  There  are  many  parts  of  Scripture  that  are, 
as  it  were,  locks,  and  that  are  never  opened  except 
by  some  special  key.  We  may  read  them,  and  read 
them  again,  just  as  a  man  may  turn  a  padlock  in 
his  hand  over  and  over,  but  it  is  not  until  some 
precise  mood  co:iies,  it  is  not  until  definite  experi- 
ence is  given  to  us,  it  is  not  until  we  pierce  the 
Scripture  with  some  particular  line  of  thought,  that 
it  opens  to  us,  and  a  passage  that  before  has  seemed 
simple  and,  of  no  remarkable  significance,  is  dis- 
closed to  us  with  such  richness  and  with  such 
wondrous  beauty,  that  we  are  filled  with  surprise. 
It  required  just  that  peculiar  train  of  experience. 
No  other  would  have  fitted  the  lock.  A  hundred 
keys  may  be  brought  to  a  door,  but  only  one  of  all 
is  good  for  anything.  The  others  are  keys,  but 
they  will  not  open  that  lock  or  that  door.  You 
may  go  with  a  hundred  moods  to  different  parts  of 
Scripture,  and  there  shall  be  but  one  that  is  fit  to 
at  all  interpret  any  particular  part.         — Beecher. 

(550.)  There  are  thousands  of  men  who  enter  the 
Word  of  God,  the  library  of  Divine  knowledge,  and 
find  nothing.  They  bring  nothing,  and  therefore 
they  cannot  find  anything.  This  interprets  the 
mystic  saying,  "  Unto  every  one  which  hath  shall 
be  given  ;  and  from  him  that  hath  not,  even  that 
he  hath  shall  be  taken  away."  A  man  may  be  able 
to  read,  and  there  may  be  wondrous  stores,  and  yet 
to  him  there  may  be  nothing,  if  he  is  looking  for 
something  besides  that  which  is  provided.  If  he 
is  looking  for  amusing  tales,  or  for  literature  that 
shall  stimulate  a  low  taste,  and  give  it  gratification, 
when  he  comes  out,  he  will  know  almost  nothing 
of  the  treasures  within.  So  men  read  the  Bible, 
and  think  it  a  diy  book.  It  is  not  a  book  opened 
to  them.  That  is,  they  are  not  opened  up  to  it. 
With  strange  wonder  children  behold  the  grand- 
mother and  grandfather  who  sit  lost  and  rejoicing 
in  a  kind  of  rapture  over  God's  Word  ;  and  stealthily 
they  look  to  see  what  it  is,  and  where  it  is ;  and 
when  the  grandfather  or  grandmother  is  gone,  they 
open  the  book  to  the  right  page,  and  read  the  con- 
tents, and  marvel  that  there  is  nothing  there.     The 


BIBLE. 


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BIBLE. 


father  reads  it,  and  tears  run  down  his  cheek  :  the 
child  reads  it,  and  no  tear  runs  down  its  cheek. 
There  are  psalms  01  er  which  they  that  have  walked 
through  trouble  hang  in  perpetual  rejoicing  ;  others 
go  to  those  same  psalms,  and  to  whom  they  are  as 
sounding  brass,  or  a  tinkling  cymbal.  There  be 
men  that  find  in  God's  Word  all  stores  for  the  heart  ; 
and  there  be  other  men  that,  looking  into  that  Word, 
find  nothing  at  all.  Men  find  what  they  bring- 
that,  the  interpretation  of  which  they  have  within 
themselves,  — Beecher, 

XII.     TO  BE  READ  BY  ALL. 

1.  Because  it  is  addressed  to  all. 

(551.)  Suppose  a  letter  were  address,ed  to  a  son 
in  a  far-distant  land  by  his  anxious  father  resident 
in  this  country,  what  would  that  son  understand  by 
such  a  letter?  He  would,  at  once,  understand  by 
it  that  it  was  a  communication  of  liis  father's  senti- 
ments, and  feelings,  and  anxieties,  to  him  ;  and  that 
it  was  his  immediate  duty,  as  well  as  privilege,  to 
peruse  the  letter,  tliat  by  it  he  might  learn  and  under- 
stand all  the  feelings  and  desires  his  parent  cherished 
concerning  him.  'J his  Book  is  a  letter  on  a  larger 
scale,  sent  down  from  the  archives  of  heaven  by  God, 
our  Gracious  Father,  beaming  with  the  majesty  of 
truth  and  paternal  love.  It  is  addressed,  not  to 
priests,  nor  to  popes,  nor  to  bishops,  as  such,  but 
it  is  addressed  to  "a//  the  faithful  who  are  in  Christ, 
to  Greek  also,  and  barbarian,  Jews,  and  Gentiles, 
saints  and  sinners, "  and  every  one,  without  distinc- 
tion of  rank,  of  riches,  possession,  or  of  character. 
Every  eye  is  called  ujion  to  read  it,  and  every  ear 
to  hear,  and  every  heart  to  feel,  and  all  flesh  to 
search,  that  all  may  find  everlasting  life.  Let  not 
priests  plunder  you,  my  Roman  Catholic  brethren, 
of  the  boon  of  the  Eternal.  — Ct^yninmg, 

2  Because  its  saving  truths  are  comprehensible 
fcyall. 

(552.)  Only  by  long  and  tedious  study  can  we 
see  in  all  their  wonderful  fulness  the  harmony  and 
order  of  God's  works  in  the  vegetable  kingdom. 
None  but  the  highly  educated  man  of  science  can 
appreciate,  as  it  is  possible  for  the  human  mind  to 
appreciate,  the  marvellous  oneness  in  variety  dis- 
played by  the  creative  wisdom  of  God  in  the  world 
of  botany.  But  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  to  be 
skilled  in  science,  in  order  to  make  use  of  the  plants 
which  grow  at  our  feet  and  to  see  their  beauty.  It 
is  not  in  the  least  needful  for  a  man  to  know  the 
terminology  and  classifications  of  botany,  in  order 
to  learn  that  plants  are  nourishing  as  food  and 
beautiful  to  the  eye.  The  peasant  who  is  totally 
ignorant  of  all  science  does  not  the  less  benefit  from 
the  use,  whether  for  medicine  or  food,  of  those 
vegetable  productions  which  God  has  caused  the 
earth  to  yield  for  his  good.  Though  a  man  know 
not  the  Latin  name  of  a  single  plant,  yet  a  flower 
parden  may  be  to  him  a  scene  of  the  most  exquisite 
enjoyment ;  a  woody  dell,  scent-laden  with  violet 
and  hyacinth,  may  convey  to  his  mind  the  most 
exalted  notion  of  the  wisdom  and  love  of  his 
Maker. 

Exactly  the  same  principle  holds  good  in  respect 
to  revealed  religion.  Only  the  man  of  culture,  who 
has  gone  through  a  laborious  course  of  study,  who 
has  pursued  his  investigations  to  their  source,  can 
fully  trace  out  and  understand  the  detailed  harmony 
oi  'die  "  arious  parts  of  the  Word  c^  <^i'xl.     In  order 


to  grasp  a  complete  system  of  theology,  much  learn. 
ing  and  still  more  labour  in  investigation  are 
necessary.  But,  blessed  be  God,  not  the  least 
learning,  not  the  slightest  superiority  of  intellect,  is 
needful  to  discover  and  appropriate  the  leading 
truths  of  the  Gospel.  The  way  of  salvation  is  so 
simple  and  easy  that  none  need  miss  it.  The  road 
to  God,  through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  repentance 
for  sin,  is  so  plain  that  the  most  unlearned  and 
ignorant  may  find  it.  — Hooper. 

3.  And  notwithstanding'  that  some  wrest  the 
Scriptures  to  their  own  destruction. 

(553-)  It  is  too  true,  some  wrest  the  Scriptures 
to  their  own  destruction  ;  and  so  do  some,  for  want 
of  care  in  eating,  choke  themselves  with  their 
bread  ;  must  all  therefore  starve  for  fear  of  being 
choked  ?  Some  hurt  themselves  and  friends  with 
their  weapons,  must  therefore  the  whole  army  be 
disarmed,  and  only  a  few  chief  officers  be  allowed 
to  wear  a  sword  by  their  sides?  Truly,  if  this  be 
argument  enraigh  to  seal  up  the  Bible  from  being 
read,  we  must  not  only  deny  it  to  the  meaner  and 
more  unlearned  sort,  but  also  to  the  great  rabbis 
and  doctors  of  the  chair  ;  for  the  grossest  heresies 
have  bred  in  the  finest  wits.  Prodigious  errors 
have  been  as  much  beholden  to  the  sophistry  of 
Arniis,  as  the  ignorance  of  ALtnis  :  so  that  the  up- 
shot of  all  will  be  this  :  the  unlearned  must  not 
read  the  Scriptures,  because  they  may  pervert  them 
through  ignorance  ;  nor  the  learned,  because  they 
may  wrest  them  by  their  subtilty.  Thus  we  see 
when  proud  men  will  be  wiser  than  God  ;  their 
foolish  minds  darken,  till  they  lose  the  reason  and 
understanding  of  men.        — Gurnall,  1617-1667. 

(554.)  The  Romish  Church  alleges,  as  an  excuse 
for  withholding  the  Bible  from  the  people,  that  it  is 
liable  to  be  dangerously  perverted  by  the  ignorant 
and  by  heretics.  The  example  of  Jesus  demolishes 
this  excuse.  What  course  did  He  take  when 
Satan  had  cunningly  perverted  the  holy  text  ?  Did 
He  abstain  from  further  quotation  of  Scripture  ? 
What  would  be  thought  of  a  military  commander 
who,  because  the  enemy  had  stolen  from  him  two 
or  three  pieces  of  ordnance,  and  was  now  firing 
them  at  him,  should  desist  on  that  account  from  all 
further  use  of  his  artillery  ?  The  fact  that  the 
enemy  was  in  possession  of  these  pieces,  would  only 
excite  him  to  redouble  his  exertions  with  the  guns 
which  remained  to  him.  In  imitation  of  J«sus, 
Satan  had  presumed  to  take  into  his  hands  that 
mighty  sword  of  the  faithful,  the  Word  of  the  Lord  ; 
but  our  Saviour  did  not  on  that  account  cast  His 
sword  away.  This  would  have  given  the  adversary 
an  advantage  indeed.  Satan  abused  and  perverted 
Scripture  :  but  Jesus  did  not  therefore  cease  to 
appeal  to  Scripture ;  He  set  us  the  example  of 
meeting  and  curing  the  abuse  of  Scripture  by  the 
right  use  of  it  : — "It  is  written  again,  Thou  shalt 
not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God." 

— Z.  //.  Wiseman, 

XITI.    HOW  TT  IS  TO  BE  READ. 

1.  Frequently. 

(555.)  Surely,  if  men  had  the  spirit  of  the  apostles, 
or  of  those  blessed  angels  which  desire  fo  pry  into 
the  gospel  of  Christ,  they  would  not  mis';pend  so 
much  precious  time  in  petty  and  fruitless  '■^tudies, 
nor  waste  away  that  lamp  of  reason  in  their  bosom 


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BIBLE. 


in  empty  and  unnourishing  blazes ;  but  would  set 
rr.ore  hours  apart  to  look  into  the  patent  of  their 
salvation  (which  is  the  book  of  God),  and  to 
acquaint  themselves  with  Christ  beforehand,  that 
v/hen  they  come  into  His  presence,  they  might  have 
the  entertainment  of  friends,  and  not  of  strangers. 
Men  that  intend  to  travel  into  foreign  kingdoms 
with  any  advantage  to  their  parts,  or  improvement 
cf  their  experience,  do,  beforehand,  season  and 
prepare  themselves  with  the  language,  with  some 
topographical  observations  of  the  countiy,  with  some 
general  notions  of  the  manners,  forms,  civilities, 
governments  of  the  natives  there.  In  the  Gospel  of 
Christ  we  have,  as  it  were,  a  map,  a  topographical 
delineation  of  those  glorious  mansions  which  in 
heaven  are  prepared  for  the  Church  ;  we  have  some 
rudiments  of  the  heavenly  language  ;  in  one  word, 
we  have  abundantly  enough,  not  only  to  prepare  us 
for  it,  but  to  inflame  all  the  desires  of  our  soul  unto 
it,  even  as  exiles  and  captives  desire  to  return  to 
their  native  country.  Now,  then,  if  we  no  way 
regard  to  study  it,  or  acquaint  ourselves  with,  it  : 
if  when  we  might  have  a  sight  of  Christ  in  heaven, 
and  every  day  have  a  blessed  view  of  His  face  in 
the  glass  of  His  Gospel,  we  turn  away  our  eyes 
and  regard  it  not,  we  do  as  good  as  proclaim  to 
all  the  world,  that  either  our  hopes  of  heaven 
are  very  slender,  or  our  care  thereof  little  or  none 
at  alL 

(556.)  Though  the  Scriptures  were  dictated  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  hold  the  lamp  to  knowledge  and 
happiness,  how  many  cast  the  precious  charter 
behind  their  backs,  or  even  trample  it  under  their 
feet !  "  Though,"  as  one  expresses  it,  "  God  Him- 
self has  vouchsafed  to  commence  author,  how  few 
will  so  much  as  give  His  work  the  reading  !  "  The 
renowned  Scipio  Africanus  hardly  ever  had  Xeno- 
phon's  writings  out  of  his  hand.  Alexander  the 
Great  made  Homer's  poems  his  constant  companion. 
St.  Chrysostom  was  so  fond  of  Aristophanes'  come- 
dies, that  he  even  laid  them  under  his  pillow  when 
he  slept.  Our  matchless  Alfred  constantly  carried 
"  Boethius  de  Consol.  Phil."  in  a  fold  of  his  robe. 
Tamerlane  (if  I  rightly  remember)  always  carried 
about  with  him  the  "  History  of  Cyrus."  Bishop 
Jewel  could  recite  all  "  Horace,"  and  Bishop  Sander- 
son all  '"Tully's  Offices."  The  Italians  are  said  to  be 
suchadmirersof  "Tasso,"  that  the  very  peasants  sing 
him  by  heart  as  they  pursue  their  country  labours. 
The  famous  Leibnitz  could  repeat,  even  in  extreme 
old  age,  the  greatest  part  of"  Virgil ; "  and  one  of  the 
popes  is  said  to  have  learned  English,  purely  for  the 
sake  of  reading  the  "  Spectator"  in  its  original  lan- 
guage. How  warmly  does  Horace  recommend  the 
study  of  the  Greek  writers  to  the  Roman  youth  ! 
Noctiirndversate  mantt,  versate  dium&.  How,  then, 
ought  Christians  to  study  the  Book  of  God  ?  Beza, 
at  upwards  of  eighty  years  of  age,  could  repeat  the 
whole  of  St.  Paul's  Epistles  in  the  original  Greek, 
and  all  the  Psalms  in  Hebrew;  and  even  more 
la'.ily,  the  learned  Witsius,  at  a  very  advanced 
period  of  life,  could  recite  almost  any  passage  of 
Scripture  in  its  proper  Hebrew  or  Greek,  together 
with  the  contexts  and  criticisms  of  the  best  com- 
mentators. How  will  such  persons  rise  in  judg- 
ment against  the  negligent  professors,  the  many 
superficial  divines,  and  the  flimsy  infidels  of  the 
fesent  day  !  Time  has  been,  when  the  Word  of 
the  Lord  was  precious  in  this  land,  so  precious  that 
iu  tVe  reig^  of  Henry  VI  '.1.  an  honest  farmer  once 


gave  a  cart-load  of  hay  for  one  leaf  of  St.  James's 
E])istle  in  English.  Now,  indeed,  through  the 
goodness  of  God,  the  manna  of  His  Word  lies  in 
abundance  round  our  tents.  But  what  is  the  con- 
sequence? Most  of  us  are  for  reading  any  book, 
except  that  which  can  make  us  wise  to  salvation. 
We  disrelish  even  the  bread  of  life  :  I  almost  said 
we  spurn  it  away  with  our  feet.  Hence  our  spirit- 
ual declensions.  May  we  not  address  the  gener- 
ality of  Christians,  so  called,  in  the  words  of  Mr. 
Boston?  "The  dust  on  one  hand,  or  the  finery  011 
the  other,  about  your  Bibles,  is  a  witness  now,  and 
will  at  the  last  day  be  a  witness,  of  the  enmity  of 
your  hearts  agfvi^st  Christ  as  a  prophet." 

2.  Not  merely  as  a  duty,  but  as  a  necessity, 

(557.)  To  read  the  Word  is  no  ordinary  duty,  but 
the  mother  of  all  duty,  enlightening  the  eyes  and 
converting  the  soul,  and  creating  that  very  con- 
science to  which  we  would  subject  it.  We  take 
our  meat,-  not  by  duty — the  body  must  go  down  to 
dust  without  it — therefore  we  persevere,  because  we 
love  to  exist.  So  also  the  Word  of  God  is  the  bread 
of  life,  the  good  of  all  spiritual  action,  without 
which  the  soul  will  go  down — if  not  to  instant 
annihilation — to  the  wretched  abyss  of  spiritual  and 
eternal  death.  — Irving. 

3.  Not  for  controversial  purposes,  "sut  for  per- 
sonal  profit. 

(55S. )  There  are  many  persons,  of  combative 
tendencies,  who  read  for  ammunition,  and  dig  out 
of  the  Bible  iron  for  balls.  They  read,  and  they 
find  nitre  and  charcoal  and  sulphur  for  powder. 
They  read,  and  they  find  cannon.  They  read, 
and  they  make  port-holes  and  embrasures.  And  if 
a  man  does  not  believe  as  they  do  they  look  upon 
him  as  an  enemy,  and  let  lly  the  Bible  at  him  to 
demolish  him.  So  men  turn  the  Word  of  God  into 
a  vast  arsenal,  filled  with  all  manner  of  weapons, 
offensive  and  defensive.  — Beecher. 

(559.)  The  Bible  is  God's  chart  for  you  to  steer 
by,  to  keep  you  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  ami  to 
show  you  where  the  harbour  is,  and  how  to  reacii  it 
without  running  on  rocks  or  bars. 

If  you  have  been  reading  it  to  gratify  curiosity  ; 
or  to  see  if  you  could  not  catch  a  universalist ;  or 
to  find  a  knife  with  which  to  cut  up  a  unitarian  ;  or 
for  the  purpose  of  setting  up  or  taking  down  a 
bishop  ;  or  to  establish  or  overthrow  any  sect — '\l 
you  have  been  reading  it  so,  then  stop.  It  is  God's 
medicine-book.  You  are  sick.  You  are  mortally 
struck  through  with  disease.  There  is  no  human 
remedy  for  your  trouble.  But  here  is  God's  medi- 
cine-book. If  you  read  it  for  life,  for  growth  in 
righteousness,  then  blessed  is  your  reading  ;  but  if 
you  read  it  for  disputation  and  dialectical  ingenu- 
ities, it  is  no  more  to  you  than  Bacon's  "  Novum 
Organum  "  would  be.  — Beecher. 

(560.)  I  say  to  every  young  man,  "If  you  read 
from  mere  curiosity,  or  simply  to  construct  a  system, 
you  do  not  know  anything  about  the  Bible.  No- 
body knows  anything  about  it  until  it  is  to  him 
what  a  chart  is  on  a  voyage,  or  what  a  medicine- 
box  is  in  actual  sickness."  When  a  doctor  is  jailed 
to  the  bedside  of  his  own  sick  child,  he  loolcs  at  his 
medical  book  with  a  very  different  spirit  from  that 
with  which  he  studied  it  when  he  sat  in  the  academy 
of  science,  and  listened  to  lectures,  and  heard  about 


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(    98    ) 


BIBLE. 


dhe  relations  of  certain  parts  of  the  human  body, 
and  the  efi'ects  of  such  and  such  medical  agents,  and 
the  significance  of  sucli  and  such  symptoms.  These 
were  all  abstract  matters  then  ;  but  now  that  sick- 
ness has  come  into  his  own  house,  a  practical  ques- 
tion presents  itself  to  him — namely,  "  How  shall  I 
meet  this  tide  of  fever  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  He  is 
in  the  wilderness,  and  there  is  no  counsellor  nor 
friend  near.  He  has  nothing  to  consult  but  his 
book.  And  how  differently  he  goes  to  that  book 
from  what  he  did  when  he  was  simply  studying 
medicine.  It  is  his  child  ;  and  if.  there  is  any  suc- 
cour he  must  find  it.  Now  he  reads  for  a  purpose  ; 
and  how  sharply  he  reads,  lest  he  may  commit  a 
mistake  !  And  when  he  has  cured  her,  with  what 
confidence  he  goes  to  his  neiglibour  s  children  when 
tiiey  are  sick  of  the  same  disease  !  And  after  he 
has  succeeded  in  curing  them  also  by  following  the 
same  directions,  he  says,  "Talk  against  that  book 
of  medicine?  I  tell  you  it  has  carried  me  through 
many  difficult  places."  It  is  the  medicating  power 
of  the  Bible  that  gives  it  its  value.  I  do  not  ignore 
its  beautiful  historical  statements  ;  these  things  are 
admirable  ;  but  it  is  in  the  wisdom  and  power  of 
God  to  the  salvation  of  a  man's  innermost  self,  that 
its  worth  consists.  It  is  its  secret  power  on  con- 
science and  faith  and  hope.  Men  know  about  the 
Bible  ;  they  have/^//  it ;  and  that  is  clear  evidence, 
and  evidence  that  cannot  be  taken  away  from  them. 

-Beecher, 

4.  As  a  letter  from  our  beavenly  Father. 

(561.)  Read  the  Scripture,  not  only  as  a  history, 
but  as  a  love-letter  sent  to  you  from  God,  which 
may  affect  your  hearts.  — Watson,  1696. 

6.  With  a  consciousness  and  constant  remem- 
brance of  our  great  need  of  it. 

(562.)  If  any  of  you  have  hitherto  been  reading 
the  Word  of  God  as  a  book  of  curiosity,  I  beseech 
you  to  remember  that  it  is  not  made  known  to  you 
for  the  purpose  of  curiosity.  It  is  made  known  to 
you  to  be  your  guide  from  sin,  from  sorrow,  from 
earthly  trouble,  toward  immortality,  and  toward 
glory.  "All  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of 
God,  and  is  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for 
correction,  for  instruction  in  righteousness  ;  that 
the  man  of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  fur- 
nished unto  all  good  works." 

Ah  !  the  way  a  man  reads  the  Bible — how  much 
that  depends  upon  his  necessity  I  I  have  unrolled 
the  chart  of  the  coast  many  and  many  a  time,  particu- 
larly in  these  latter  days,  since  there  has  been  so  much 
interest  attached  to  it.  I  have  gone  along  down  my 
finger,  and  followed  the  shoals  and  depths  in  and 
out  of  this  harbour  and  that,  and  imagined  a  light- 
house here  and  a  lighthouse  there,  that  were  marked 
on  the  chart,  and  have  looked  at  the  inland  country 
lining  the  shore,  and  it  has  been  a  matter  of  interest 
to  me  to  be  sure.  But  suppose  1  had  been  in  that 
equinoctial  gale  that  blew  with  such  violence,  and 
had  had  the  command  of  a  ship  off  the  coast  of  Cape 
Hatteras,  and  the  lighthouse  had  not  been  in  sight, 
and  my  spars  had  been  split,  and  my  rigging  had 
been  disarranged,  and  my  sails  had  been  blown 
away,  and  I  had  had  all  I  could  do  to  keep  the  ship 
out  of  a  trough  of  the  sea,  and  1  had  been  trying  to 
make  some  harbour,  how  would  I  have  enrolled  the 
chart,  and  with  two  men  to  help  me  to  hold  it,  on 
account  of  the  rolling  and  staggering  oi  'Jje  vessel, 


looked  at  all  the  signs  and  endeavoured  to  find  out 
where  I  was. 

Now  when  I  sit  in  my  house,  where  there  is  no 
gale,  and  with  no  ship,  and  read  my  chart  out 
of  curiosity,  I  read  it  as  you  sometimes  read  your 
Bible.  You  say,  "Here  is  the  headland  of  de- 
pravity, and  there  is  a  lighthouse — '  Born  again  ; ' 
and  here  is  the  channel  of  duty."  And  yet  every 
one  of  you  has  charge  of  a  ship — the  human  soul. 
Evil  passions  are  fierce  winds  that  are  driving  it. 
This  Bible  is  God's  chart  for  you  to  steer  by,  to 
keep  you  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  to  show 
you  where  the  harbour  is,  and  how  to  reach  it 
without  running  on  rocks  or  bars. 

It  is  the  book  of  life  ;  it  is  the  book  of  everlasting 
life  ;  so  take  heed  how  you  read  it.  In  reading  it, 
see  that  you  have  the  truth,  and  not  the  mere  sem- 
blance of  it.  You  cannot  live  without  it.  You 
die  for  ever  unless  you  have  it  to  teach  you  what 
are  your  relations  to  God  and  eternity.  May 
God  guide  you  away  from  all  cunning  appearances 
of  truth  set  to  deceive  men,  and  make  you  love  the 
real  truth  !  Above  all  other  things,  may  God 
make  you  honest  in  interpreting  it,  and  applying  it 
to  your  daily  life  and  disposition  !  — Beecher. 

6.  With  reverent  docility. 

(563.)  Open  the  Bible  with  holy  reverence  as  the 
Book  of  God,  indited  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  Re- 
member that  the  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament 
was  revealed  by  the  Son  of  God,  who  was  purposely 
sent  from  heaven  to  be  the  light  of  the  world,  and 
to  make  known  to  men  the  will  of  God,  and  the 
matters  of  their  salvation.  Bethink  you  well,  if 
God  should  but  send  a  book  or  letter  to  you  by  an 
angel,  how  reverently  you  would  receive  it  !  How 
carefully  you  would  peruse  it ;  and  regard  it  above 
all  the  books  in  the  world  !  And  how  much  rather 
should  you  do  so,  by  that  book  which  is  indited 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  recordeth  the  doctrine  of 
Christ  Himself,  whose  authority  is  greater  than  thu 
angels  !  Read  it  not  therefore  as  a  common  Book, 
with  a  common  and  irreverent  heart ;  but  in  the 
dread  and  love  of  God  the  author. 

Remember  that  it  is  the  will  and  testament  of 
your  Lord,  and  the  covenant  of  most  full  and 
gracious  promises ;  which  all  your  comforts,  and 
all  your  hopes  of  pardon  and  everlasting  life  arc 
built  upon.  Read  it,  therefore,  with  love  and  great 
delight.  Value  it  a  thousandfold  more  than  you 
would  do  the  letters  of  your  dearest  friend,  or  the 
deeds  by  which  you  hold  your  lands  ;  or  anything 
else  of  low  concernment.  If  the  law  were  sweeter 
to  David  than  honey,  and  better  than  thousands  of 
gold  and  silver,  and  was  his  delight  and  meditation 
all  the  day  ;  oh,  what  should  be  the  sweet  and  pre- 
cious Gospel  to  us  ! 

Remember  that  it  is  a  doctrine  of  unseen  thmgs, 
and  of  the  greatest  mysteries  ;  and  therefore  come 
not  to  it  with  arrogance  as  a  judge,  but  with  hu- 
mility as  a  learner  or  disciple  :  and  if  anything 
seem  difficult  or  improbable  to  you,  suspect  your 
own  unfurnished  understanding,  and  not  the  sacred 
Word  of  God.  If  a  learner  in  any  art  or  science, 
will  suspect  his  teacher  and  his  books,  whenever  ha 
is  stalled,  or  meeteth  with  that  which  seemeth 
unlikely  to  him,  his  pride  would  keep  possession 
for  his  ignorance,  and  his  folly  were  like  to  bd 
unenviable.  — Baxter,  161 5-1 69 1. 

(564.)  One  way  of  reading  the  Bible  with  ad  van* 


BIBLE. 


(    99    ) 


BIBLE. 


tage  is  to  pay  it  great  homage  ;  so  that  when  we 
come  to  any  part  which  we  cannot  connect  with 
other  passages,  we  must  conckide  that  this  arises 
from  our  ignorance,  but  that  the  seeming  con- 
trarieties are  in  tliemselves  quite  reconcilable. 

— Cecil,  1 740-1810. 

(565.)  \Vhen  we  read  the  Bible  we  must  always 
remember  that,  like  the  holy  waters  seen  by 
Ezekiel  (chap,  xlvii.),  it  is  in  some  places  up  "to 
the  ankles,"  in  others,  up  "  to  the  knees,  in  others," 
up  "to  the  loins ;"  and  in  some,  "a  river"  too 
deep  to  be  fathomed,  and  that  "cannot  be  passed 
over."  There  is  light  enough  to  guide  the  humble 
and  teachable  to  heaven,  and  obscurity  enough  to 
confound  the  unbeliever.  — Cecil,  1740-1810. 

(566.)  The  Bible  scorns  to  be  treated  scientifically. 
After  all  your  accurate  statements  it  will  leave  you 
aground.  The  Bible  does  not  come  round  and  ask 
our  opinion  of  its  contents.  It  proposes  to  us  a 
constitution  of  grace,  which  we  are  to  receive  though 
we  do  not  wholly  comprehend  it.  Numberless 
questions  may  be  started  on  the  various  parts  of  this 
constitution.  Much  of  it  I  cannot  understand,  even 
of  what  respects  myself;  but  1  am  called  to  act  on 
it.  And  this  is  agreeable  to  analogy.  My  child 
will  ask  me  questions  on  the  fitness  or  unfitness  of 
what  I  enjoin,  but  I  silence  him  : — "  You  are  not 
yet  able  to  comprehend  this  ;  your  business  is  to 
believe  me,  and  obey  me."      — Cecil,  1740-1810. 

(567.)  The  system  of  reasoning  from  our  own 
conjectures  as  to  the  necessity  of  the  Most  High 
doing  so  and  so,  tends  to  lead  a  man  to  proceed 
from  the  rejection  of  his  own  form  of  Christianity 
to  a  rejection  of  revelation  altogether.  But  does  it 
stop  here?  Does  not  the  same  system  lead  naturally 
to  Atheism  also  ?  Experience  shows  that  that  con- 
sequence, which  reason  might  have  anticipated, 
does  often  actually  take  place.  — ll'hately, 

7.  Comprehensively  and  continuously. 

(568.)  Walk  all  up  and  down  this  Bible  domain. 
Try  every  path.  Plunge  in  at  the  prophecies  and 
come  oat  at  the  epistles.  Go  with  the  patriarchs, 
until  you  meet  the  evangelists.  Rummage  and  ran- 
sack, as  children  wlio  are  not  satisfied  when  they 
come  to  a  new  house,  until  they  know  what  is  in 
every  room,  and  into  what  eveiy  door  opens.  Open 
every  jewel-casket.  Examine  the  skylights.  For 
ever  be  asking  questions.  Put  to  a  higher  use  than 
was  intended  the  Oriental  proverb,  "  Hold  all  the 
skirts  of  thy  mantle  extended  when  heaven  is  rain- 
ing gold." 

Passing  from  Cologne  to  Bonn  on  the  Rhine,  the 
scenery  is  comparatively  tame.  But  hom  Bonn  to 
Mayence  it  is  enchanting.  You  sit  on  deck,  and 
feel  as  if  this  last  flash  of  beauty  must  exhaust  the 
scene ;  but  in  a  moment  there  is  a  turn  of  the  river, 
which  covers  up  the  former  view  with  more  luxuriant 
vineyards,  and  more  defiant  castles,  and  bolder  bluffs, 
vine-wreathed,  and  grapes  so  ripe  that  if  the  hills  be 
touched  they  would  bleed  their  rich  life  away  into 
the  bowels  of  Bingen  and  Hockheimer.  Here  and 
there  there  are  streams  of  water  melting  into  the 
river,  like  smaller  joys  swallowed  in  the  bosom  of 
a  great  gladness.  And  when  night  begins  to  throw 
its  black  mantle  over  the  shoulder  of  the  hills,  and 
you  are  approaching  disembarkation  at  Mayence,  the 
lights  along  the  shore  fairlv  bewitch  the  scene  with 
their  beauty,  giving  one  r<    thrill   that  he  feels  out 


once,  yet  that  lasts  him  for  ever.  So  this  river  <A 
(Jod's  Word  is  not  a  straight  stream,  but  a  winding 
splendour — at  every  turn  new  wonders  to  attract, 
still  riper  vintage  pressing  to  the  brink,  and  crowded 
with  castles  of  strength — Stolzenfels  and  Johannis- 
berger  as  nothing  compared  with  the  strong  tower 
into  which  the  righteous  run  and  are  saved — and 
our  disembarkation  at  last,  in  the  evening,  amid  the 
lights  that  gleam  from  the  shore  of  heaven.  The 
trouble  is  that  the  vast  majority  of  Bible  voyagers 
stop  at  Cologne,  where  the  chief  glories  begin. 

The  sea  of  God's  Word  is  not  like  Gennesaret, 
twelve  miles  by  six,  but  boundless ;  and  in  any  one 
direction  you  can  sail  on  for  ever.  Why  then  con- 
fine yourself  to  a  short  psalm,  or  to  a  few  verses  of 
an  epi.'tle  ?  The  largest  fish  are  not  near  the  shore. 
Hoist  all  sail  to  the  winds  of  heaven.  Talce  hold 
of  both  oars  and  pull  away.  Be  like  some  of  the 
whalers  that  go  off  from  New  Bedford  or  Ports- 
mouth to  be  gone  for  two  or  three  years.  Yea, 
calculate  on  a  lifetime  voyage.  You  do  not  want 
to  land  until  you  land  in  heaven.  Sail  away,  O  ye 
mariners,  for  eternity.     Launch  out  into  the  deep. 

— Talmage, 

(569.)  A  man  of  little  leisure  like  the  shepherd 
of  Salisbury  Plain  may  be  glad  to  snatch  for  his 
morning  meal  a  promise  or  a  proverb,  the  verse  of 
a  psalm  or  a  sentence  from  a  gospel.  But  even  the 
busiest  man  will  find  occasional  opportunities  for 
more  extensive  reading  ;  and  on  some  quiet  evening 
or  in  the  seclusion  of  the  Sabbath,  you  could  not  do 
better  than  sit  down  to  the  Bible  as  you  would  to 
a  theological  treatise  or  a  volume  of  Christian  bio- 
graphy, with  your  mind  made  up  to  a  deliberate 
and  straightforward  perusal.  With  this  view  you 
may  select  the  history  of  Joseph,  or  Samson,  or 
David,  oi*  Solomon  ;  the  Journeys  of  the  Israelites  ; 
the  Missionary  Excursions  of  St.  Paul  ;  or  you  may 
resolve  to  m"ster  a  century  of  Hebrew  histoiy,  con- 
necting with  recorded  events  the  contemporary  pro- 
phecies, or  you  may  determine  to  read  right  through 
a  Gospel  Narrative,  or  the  whole  writings  of  some 
apostle.  And  justas  you  find  the  charms  of  continuity 
and  completeness  enhance  all  the  other  attractions  of 
an  ordinary  book — so,  in  perfect  harmony  with  devout 
and  reverential  feelings,  will  the  course  of  the  narra- 
tive, the  development  of  the  leading  idea,  the  progress 
of  the  argument,  enlist  your  interest  and  quickea 
your  perceptive  powers.  Indeedj  there  are  many  of 
the  inspired  writings  with  which  it  is  hardly  fair  to 
deal  otherwise.  To  take  the  analogous  case, — when 
you  have  only  a  minute  to  spare,  you  may  run  your 
eye  over  a  hymn  of  Ccwper  or  a  "  Thought "  of 
Pascal,  and  at  once  glean  something  memorable, 
but  you  would  hardly  think  it  justice  to  a  Sermon 
of  Horsley,  or  a  Biography  of  Walton,  or  a  Drama 
of  Racine,  to  read  it  at  the  rate  of  two  pages  a  day  ; 
yet  this  is  the  treatment  usually  given  to  the  kindred 
compositions  contained  in  the  Sacred  Volume. 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

8.  With  prayerful  meditation. 
(570.)  To  some  the  Bible  is  uninteresting  and 
unprofitable,  because  they  read  too  fast.  Amongst 
the  insects  which  subsist  on  the  sweet  sap  of  flowers, 
there  are  two  very  different  classes.  One  is  remark- 
able for  its  imposing  plumage,  which  shows  in  the 
sunbeams  like  the  dust  of  gems  ;  and  as  you  watch 
its  jaunty  gyrations  over  the  fields,  and  its  minuet 
I  dance  from  flower  to  flower,  you  cannot  heip  aomir- 


BIBLE. 


(     lOO    ) 


BIBLE. 


ing  its  graceful  activity,  for  it  is  plainly  getting  over 
a  great  deal  of  ground.  But,  in  the  same  field  there 
ks  another  worker,  whose  brown  vest  and  business- 
like straightforward  flight  may  not  have  arrested 
your  eye.  His  fluttering  neigiibour  darts  down  here 
and  there,  and  sips  elegantly  wherever  he  can  find 
a  drop  of  ready  nectar  ;  but  this  cUngy  plodder 
makes  a  point  of  alighting  everywhere,  and  wher- 
ever he  alights  he  either  finds  honey  or  makes  it.  If 
the  flower-cup  be  deep,  he  goes  down  to  the  bottom ; 
if  its  dragon-mouth  be  shut,  he  thrusts  its  lips 
asunder  ;  and  if  the  nectar  be  peculiar  or  recondite, 
he  explores  all  about  till  he  discovers  it,  and  then 
having  ascertained  the  knack  of  it,  joyful  as  one  who 
has  found  great  spoil,  he  sings  his  way  down  into 
its  luscious  recesses.  His  rival,  of  the  painted  velvet 
wing,  has  no  patience  for  such  dull  and  long-winded 
details.  But  what  is  the  end  ?  Why,  the  one  died 
last  October  along  with  the  flowers  ;  the  other  is 
warm  in  his  hive  to-night,  amidst  the  fragrant  stores 
which  he  gathered  beneath  the  bright  beams  of 
summer. 

Reader,  to  which  do  you  belong  ? — the  butterflies 
or  bees?  Do  you  search  the  Scriptures,  or  do  you 
only  skim  them  ?  Do  you  dwell  on  a  passage  till  you 
bring  out  some  meaning,  or  till  you  can  carry  away 
some  memorable  truth  or  immediate  lesson  ?  or  do 
you  flit  along  on  heedless  wing,  only  on  the  look- 
out for  novelty,  and  too  frivolous  to  explore  or 
ponder  the  Scriptures?  Does  the  Word  of  God 
dwell  in  you  so  richly,  that  in  the  vigils  of  a  restless 
night,  or  in  the  bookless  solitude  of  a  sick  room,  or 
in  the  winter  of  old  age  or  exclusion  from  ordin- 
ances, its  treasured  truths  would  perpetuate  summer 
round  you,  and  give  you  meat  to  eat  which  the 
world  knows  not  of?        — Hainilton,  1814-1867. 

(571.)  I  think  as  there  are  always  among  violets 
some  that  are  very  much  sweeter  to  us  than  others, 
so  among  texts  there  are  some  that  are  more 
precious  to  us  than  others.  When  I  go  to  the 
Bible,  it  is  not  once  in  a  hundred  times  that  I  ever 
read  a  whole  chapter  for  my  own  devotions.  I  turn 
to  Isaiah,  for  instance,  and  run  my  eye  down,  and, 
like  one  that  goes  out  into  the  field  to  rest,  I  do 
not  take  the  first  spot  that  presents  itself,  but  wait 
till  I  find  a  nook  where  the  mosses  are  right,  and 
the  flowers  are  right,  and  the  shrubs  are  right,  and 
then  sit  down  and  feast  my  eyes  on  the  beauties 
around  me,  and  take  great  comfort.  I  wander 
along  till  I  come  to  a  passage  which,  though  I  can- 
not tell  why,  I  read  over,  and  over,  and  over  again. 
One  or  two  verses  or  sentences,  perhaps,  will  linger 
in  my  head  all  day,  like  some  sweet  passage  in  a 
letter,  or  like  some  felicitous  word  spoken  by  a 
friend,  coming  and  going,  coming  and  going,  all 
the  time.  I  find  often  that  one  single  text,  taking 
possession  of  the  mind  in  the  morning,  and  ringing 
through  it  during  the  whole  day,  does  me  more 
good  than  the  reading  of  a  whole  chapter.  Some- 
times, when  I  am  hungrj'  for  Scripture  reading,  I  go 
over  one,  or  two,  or  three  chapters ;  but  it  is  be- 
cause I  want  to,  and  I  do  it  without  thinking  of 
doing  it.  But  generally  I  am  not  inclined  to  take 
in  so  much.  Frequently  some  one  thing  that 
Christ  said  fixes  itself  in  my  mind,  and  remains 
there  from  morning  till  night. 

You  may  over-read.  Persons  want  to  be  vigor- 
ous and  strong,  and  they  say,  "  To  eat  is  the  way 
to  become  so ; "  and  they  gorge  their  stomachs 
with   food,  and    overlay    their   powers,    and    make 


themselves  weak  and  stupid  by  excessive  eating. 
And  you  may  eat  too  much  Bible  as  well  as  too 
much  bread.  — Becc/ur. 

9,  With  appropriating-  faitb. 

(572.)  Job  uses  the  language  of  appropriation. 
He  says,  "  Aly,  Redeemer."  And  all  that  we 
know,  or  hear,  or  speak  of  Him,  will  avail  us  but 
little,  unless  we  are  really  and  personally  interested 
in  Him  as  our  Redeemer.  A  cold  speculative 
knowledge  of  the  Gospel,  such  as  a  lawyer  has  of  a 
will  or  a  deed,  which  he  reads  with  no  further 
design  than  to  understand  the  tenor  and  import  ul 
the  writing,  will  neither  save  nor  comfort  the  soul. 
The  believer  reads  it,  as  the  will  is  read  by  tlie 
heir,  who  finds  his  own  name  in  it,  and  is  warranted 
by  it  to  call  the  estate  and  all  the  particulars 
specified  his  own.  He  appropriates  the  piivileges 
to  himself,  and  says,  the  promises  are  mine  ;  the 
pardon,  the  peace,  the  heaven,  of  which  I  read,  are 
all  mine.  This  is  the  will  and  testament  of  the 
Redeemer,  of  my  Redeemer.  The  great  Testator 
remembered  me  in  His  will,  which  is  confirmed, 
and  rendered  valid  by  His  death  (Heb.  ix.  i6),  and 
therefore  I  humbly  claim,  and  assuredly  expect,  the 
benefit  of  all  that  He  has  bequeathed. 

— Neivton,  1 725-1 S07. 

XIV.  IN  WHAT  SPIRIT  IT  IS  TO  BE  CON- 
SULTED. 

(573-)  When  thou  consultest  with  the  Word, 
take  heed  thou  comest  not  with  a  judgment  pre-en- 
gaged to  any  party  and  opinion.  He  is  not  like  to 
hold  the  scales  even  whose  judgment  is  bribed 
beforehand.  A  distempered  eye  sees  the  object  of 
that  colour  with  which  itself  is  affected  ;  and  a 
mind  prepossessed,  will  be  ready  to  impose  its  own 
sense  upon  the  Word,  and  so  loseth  the  truth  by  an 
overweening  conceit  of  his  own  opinion.  Too 
many,  alas,  read  the  Scriptures  not  so  much  to  be 
informed  by  them,  as  confirmed  in  what  already 
they  have  taken  up.  Tliey  choose  opinions,  as 
Samson  his  wife,  because  they  please  them,  and 
then  come  to  gain  the  Scriptures'  consent. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(574.)  The  attitude  of  the  human  mind  toward 
revelation  should  be  precisely  the  same  as  toward 
nature.  The  naturalist  does  not  attempt  to  mould 
the  mountains  to  his  patterns  ;  and  the  theologian 
must  not  strive  to  pre-configure  the  Scriptures  to 
his  private  opinions.  The  mountain  is  an  object 
positive,  fixed,  and  entirely  independent  of  the  eye 
that  looks  upon  it  ;  and  that  mass  of  truth  which  is 
contained  in  the  Christian  Scriptures  is  also  an 
object,  positive,  fixed,  and  entirely  independent  of 
the  individual  mind  that  contemplates  it.  The 
ciystalline  humour  of  the  eye  is  confessedly  passive 
in  relation  to  the  mountain  mass  that  looms  up 
before  it  in  majesty  and  in  glory.  It  receives  an 
impression  and  experiences  a  sensation,  not 
mechanically  or  chemically  indeed,  as  wax  meits 
before  fire,  or  as  an  alkali  effervesces  under  an  acid, 
yet  inevitably  and  in  accordance  with  the  real  and 
indei)endent  nature  of  the  mountain.  And  the 
moral  mind  of  man,  in  relation  to  the  moral  truth 
of  God  which  is  set  over  against  it  in  revelation, 
should  in  like  manner  be  recipient,  and  take  an 
impression  that  issues  inevitably  from  the  nature  and 
qualirias  of  fixed  and  eternal  truth.  Neither  in  the 
instance  of  the  eye  nor  of  the  mind  is  the  function 


BIBLE. 


(     loi     ) 


BIBLE. 


that  of  authorship  or  origination  ;  it  is  that  of  living 
recipiency  and  acquiescence.  In  the  presence  of 
botn  nature  and  revelation,  man,  as  Lord  Bacon 
phrases  it,  is  a  minister  and  interpreter,  and  not  a 
creator  and  lord.  — Shedd. 

XV.    HOIV  IT  IS  TO  BE  TREATED  BY  US. 

1.  It  must  be  loved  for  its  purity, 

(575.)  "Thy  Word  is  very  pure,  therefore  Thy 
servant  loveth  it."  Hypocrites  will  now  and  then 
relish  the  comfort  of  the  Gospel,  be  affected  with 
the  Word,  because  it  speaks  such  good  things  to 
poor  sinners  :  but  God's  children  love  the  Word  for 
its  purity.  'Tis  not  comfort  only  must  draw  our 
love,  but  holiness.  This  argues  the  life  and  power 
of  grace,  when  we  would  not  have  the  law  of  God 
less  strict  than  it  is,  but  love  it  for  this  very  reason, 
because  it  is  strict  and  holy.  You  would  not  think 
a  beggar  loves  you,  because  he  likes  your  alms,  but 
is  loth  to  stay  with  you  for  your  service,  and  live 
under  the  orderly  government  of  your  family.  Most 
men's  love  to  the  Word  is  such,  they  delight  in  the 
comfort  of  it  as  an  alms,  but  hate  the  duty  of  it  as 
a  task  ;  they  had  rather  let  the  duties  of  it  alone  ; 
if  it  could  be  without  danger.  Oh,  but  when  your 
heart  consents  to  the  purity  of  the  law,  and  you 
would  choose  that  life  whicfi  it  points  out  to  you, 
rather  than  any  life  in  the  world,  or  the  most  abso- 
lute freedom  that  the  heart  of  man  can  imagine,  so 
that  you  love  your  Master  the  more  because  He  has 
appointed  such  work ;  this  is  true  affection  to  God 
and  His  Word.  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

2.  It  must  be  diligently  studied. 

(576.)  Prize  the  Scriptures,  and  be  more  diligent 
in  hearing,  reading,  meditating  on  the  blessed  truths 
contained  therein.  The  earth  is  the  fruitful  mother 
of  all  herbs  and  plants,  yet  it  must  be  tilled, 
ploughed,  harrowed,  and  dressed,  else  it  brings 
forth  little  fruit.  The  Scriptures  contain  all  the 
grounds  of  comfort  and  happiness  ;  but  we  have 
little  benefit,  unless  daily  versed  in  reading,  hear- 
ing, and  meditation. 

—  Manton,  1620-1667. 

(577.)  "  Search  the  Scriptures. "  Indeed  were  there 
not  such  an  express  word  for  this  duty,  yet  the  very 
penning  of  them,  with  the  end  for  which  they  are 
writ  considered,  would  impose  the  duty  upon  us. 
When  a  law  is  enacted  by  a  prince  or  state,  for  their 
subjects  to  obey,  the  very  promulgation  of  it  is 
enough  to  oblige  the  people  to  take  notice  of  it. 
Neither  will  it  serve  a  subject's  turn  that  breaks  this 
law,  to  say  he  was  ignorant  of  any  such  law  being 
in  foice  :  the  publication  of  it  bound  him  to  inquire 
after  it.  What  other  end  ha^e  lawgivers  in  divulg- 
ing their  Acts,  but  that  their  pt-)ple  might  know  their 
duty?  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(578.)  But  you  will  say,  "If  we  bad  so  much 
time  to  spare  as  others,  we  would  not  be  so  un- 
acquainted with  the  Scriptures :  but  alas,  we  have 
so  much  business  to  do,  and  our  hands  so  full  with 
our  worldly  callings,  that  we  hope  God  will  excuse 
us,  though  we  have  not  so  much  knowledge  of  His 
word  as  others." 

Is  this  thy  plea  that  thou  indeed  meanest  to  use 
when  thou  comest  to  the  bar,  and  art  called  to  give 
thy  answer  to  Christ  thy  Judge  upon  this  matter? 
This  is  so  faT  from  mending  the  matter,  that  thou 
dost  hu*  cover  one  sin  with  another.     Who  gave 


thee  leave  thus  to  ovetlade  thyself  with  the  incum- 
brance of  the  world  ?  Is  not  God  the  Lord  of  thy 
time?  Is  it  not  given  by  Him,  to  be  laid  out  for 
Him  ?  He  allows  thee  indeed  a  fair  portion  ther**- 
of  for  the  lower  employments  of  this  life  ;  but  did 
He  ever  intend  to  turn  Himself  out  of  all  ?  This  is 
as  if  the  mariners,  wlio  are  allowed  by  the  merchant 
some  trivial  adventure  for  themselves,  should  fill  the 
ship,  and  leave  no  stowage  for  his  goods  that  pay* 
the  freight.  Will  it  suffice  him  to  say.  There  is  no 
room  left  for  his  commodities  ?  Or  as  if  a  servant, 
when  his  master  asks  why  he  neglected  such  a 
business  committed  to  his  care  for  dispatch,  should 
answer.  He  was  drunk,  and  therefore  could  not  do 
it.  "  Why  did  you  not  read  my  Word,  and  medi- 
tate thereon  ?  "  will  Christ  say  at  that  day.  Darest 
thou  then  be  so  impudent  as  to  say,  "Lord,  I  was 
overcharged  with  the  cares,  and  drunk  with  the  love 
of  the  world,  and  therefore  I  could  not?"  Well, 
if  this  be  the  thief  that  robs  thee  of  thy  time,  get 
out  of  his  hands  as  soon  as  thou  canst,  lest  it  also 
rob  thee  of  thy  soul.  The  devil  can  desire  no 
greater  advantage  against  thee  ;  he  hath  thee  sure 
enough  in  his  trap.  He  may  better  boast  over  thee, 
than  Pharaoh  could  over  Israel,  "He  is  entangled, 
he  is  entangled  in  the  IVi/derness  of  the  World,  and 
shall  not  escape  my  hands."" 

— Giiinall,  1 61 7-1679. 

(579.)  Did  men  believe  the  Scripture  to  be  the 
Word  of  God,  and  to  contain  matters  of  the  highest 
importance  to  our  everlasting  happiness,  would  they 
neglect  it  and  lay  it  aside,  and  study  it  no  more 
than  a  man  would  do  an  almanack  out  of  date,  or 
than  a  man,  who  believes  the  attaining  a  philo- 
sopher's stone  to  be  impossible,  would  study  those 
books  that  treat  of  it?  If  men  did  believe  that  it 
contains  plain  and  easy  directions  for  the  attaining 
of  eternal  happiness,  and  escaping  eternal  misery, 
they  would  converse  much  with  it,  make  it  their 
companion  and  their  counsellor,  "meditate  in  it 
day  and  night,"  read  it  with  all  diligence,  and  put 
in  practice  the  directions  of  it. 

So  that  whatever  men  pretend,  it  is  plain,  that 
those  who  neglect  God  and  religion,  and  contradict 
the  precepts  of  His  Word  by  their  lives,  they  do  not 
firmly  believe  there  is  a  God,  nor  that  this  book  is 
the  Word  of  God.  — Tillotson,  1630- 1694. 

(580.)  Not  unfrequently  the  most  precious  things 
are  the  most  difficult  to  attain.  Iron,  and  coal,  and 
gold,  do  not  lie  on  the  surface  of  the  ground  ;  they 
have  to  be  sought  for  carefully,  and  with  great 
trouble.  The  earth  does  not  yield  her  choicest  life- 
giving  products — her  corn,  her  wine,  her  oil — with- 
out much  painstaking  skill  on  the  part  of  the  hus- 
bandman. So  with  the  Bible.  Some  of  its  highest 
truths  by  no  means  lie  on  the  surface.  They  are 
there  most  certainly,  and  they  are  to  be  found  ;  but 
they  need  patient  investigation,  and  humble,  prayer- 
ful thought,  in  order  that  they  may  be  discovered. 

— Hooper, 

3.  Must  be  used  by  us,  as  well  as  diffused. 

(581.)  Much  praiseworthy  zeal  is  expended  in 
societies  which  have  undertaken  the  business  of 
enlightening  the  Gentile  world  ;  but  is  it  not  to  be 
feared  that  while  we  are  engaged,  some  in  making, 
some  in  hearing,  speeches  on  the  subject  of  sending 
the  Bible  to  the  heathen  ;  and  while  we  are  contri- 
buting our  money  and  our  influence  to  the  promo- 


BIBLE. 


(     I02     ) 


BIBLE. 


lion  of  so  blessed  an  object,  we  maybe  suffering  the 
page  of  God's  life-giving  Word  to  remain  unread  in 
our  own  homes?  To  participate  in  giving  the 
blessing  to  others  while  we  refuse  to  appropriate  it 
also  to  ourselves,  is  as  though  the  adventurous 
traveller,  plunging  into  a  deep,  dark  cavern,  should 
place  in  another's  hand  the  torch  on  whicli  his  own 
safety  and  his  own  life  depended,  and  should  take 
liis  sejiarate  way  heedless  of  the  unseen  danger 
which  he  might  encounter,  the  subterranean  river 
on  the  one  hand,  or  the  precipitous  abyss  on  the 
other.  The  madness  of  such  a  one  would  be  sense 
and  reason  compared  with  the  insane  folly  of  those 
who,  while  they  minister  the  Word  of  God  to  the 
heathen,  suffer  not  its  rays  to  fall  upon  their  own 
daik  path.  — Salter,  1840. 

XVI,  ITS  MYSTERIES,  OBSCURITIES,  AND 
DIFFICULT]  ES. 

1.  Are  not  to  be  dejiied. 

(582.)  Those  huge  loulders  which  lie  along  the 
valley  of  Storo  in  the  Tyrol,  are  of  a  granite 
unknown  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  they  must  have 
come  from  a  great  distance.  Now  it  might  be  hard 
to  explain  the  method  by  which  they  arrived  in  the 
valley,  but  it  would  be  absurd  to  deny  that  they 
are  there.  Most  unaccountable  is  the  fact,  but 
a  very  strong  and  stubborn  fact  it  is,  for  there  they 
lie,  h-ige  as  houses,  and  yet  perfectly  alien  to  the 
country.  There  are  truths  in  Scripture  which 
puzzle  us,  we  cannot  understand  their  lelation  to 
other  portions  of  revelation,  they  are  mysteries, 
apparently  alien  to  the  spirit  of  other  passages. 
What  then  ?  Suppose  we  cannot  account  for  them, 
that  does  not  alter  the  fact  that  there  they  are,  and 
it  would  be  extreme  folly  to  deny  their  existence 
because  they  puzzle  us.  Rather  let  us  find  room 
for  adoring  faith  where  reason  is  lost  in  wonder. 

— Spurgeon. 

2.  Do  not  extend  to  anything  essential  for  us  to 
know. 

(583.)  God  has  revealed  great  mysteries  sufficient 
for  saving  faith,  though  not  to  satisfy  rash  curiosity. 
There  is  a  knowledge  of  curiosity  and  discourse, 
and  a  knowledge  of  doing  and  performance.  The 
art  of  navigation  requires  a  knowledge  how  to 
govern  a  ship,  and  what  seas  are  safe,  what  are 
dangerous  by  rocks  and  sands,  and  tempests,  that 
often  surprise  those  who  sail  to  them  :  but  the 
knowledge  of  the  causes  of  the  ebbing  and  flowing 
of  the  sea  is  not  necessary.  The  mariner  must  be 
instructed  in  the  nature  and  use  of  the  compass,  but 
a  knowledge  of  the  mysterious  nature  of  the  load- 
stone is  not  required  of  him.  So,  to  believe 
savingly  in  Christ,  we  must  know  that  He  is  the 
living  and  true  God,  and  true  man,  that  died  for 
our  redemption  ;  but  'tis  not  necessaiy  that  we 
should  know  the  manner  of  the  union  of  His  two 
natures.  The  discovery  of  the  manner  of  Divine 
mysteries  is  not  suitable  to  the  nature  of  faith,  for 
'tis  the  evidence  of  thin<^s  7iot  seen  ;  the  obscurity  of 
the  object  is  consistent  with  the  certainty  of  the 
assent  to  it  :  and  'tis  contrary  to  the  end  of  revela- 
tion ;  which  is  to  humble  us  in  the  modest  ignor- 
ance of  Divine  mysteries  which  we  cannot  compre- 
hend, and  to  enlighten  us  in  those  things  which  are 
necessary  to  be  known.  The  light  of  faith  is  as 
much  below  the  light  of  glory,  as  'tis  above  the 
light  of  natuie, 


3,  To  what  they  are  due. 
(l.)    To  our  ignorance. 

(584.)  It  is  merely  through  our  ignorance  that  the 
Scriptures  seem  contradictory.  I  thought  mysell 
once  that  some  places  were  hardly  reconcilable, 
which  now  I  see  do  very  plainly  agree  ;  plainly,  [ 
say,  to  them  that  understand  the  true  meaning  ol 
the  words.  There  are  no  human  writings,  but  lie 
open  to  such  conceptions  of  the  ignorant.  It  is 
rather  a  wonder  that  the  Scriptures  seem  not  to  you 
more  self-contradicting,  if  you  consider  : — 

1st.  That  they  are  written  in  another  language, 
and  must  needs  lose  much  in  the  translation,  there 
being  few  words  to  be  found  in  any  language  which 
have  not  divers  signilications. 

2d.  That  it  being  the  language  also  of  another 
country,  to  men  that  know  not  the  customs,  the 
situation  of  places,  the  proverbial  speeches  and 
phrases  of  that  country,  it  is  impossible  but  many 
words  should  seem  dark  or  contradictory. 

3d.  Also,  that  the  Scriptures  are  of  so  exceeding 
antiquity,  as  no  books  else  in  the  world  are  like 
them.  Now,  who  knows  not  that  in  all  countries 
in  the  world,  customs  and  proverbial  speeches  and 
phrases  alter  ;  which  must  needs  make  words  seem 
dark,  even  to  men  of  the  same  country  and  language 
that  live  so  long  after.  We  have  many  English  pro- 
verbs, which,  if  in  after  ages  they  should  cease  to  be 
proverbs,  and  men  finding  them  in  our  writings  shall 
construe  them  as  plain  speeches,  they  would  seem 
to  be  either  false  or  ridiculous  nonsense.  The  like 
may  be  said  of  alteration  of  phrases.  He  that 
reads  but  Chaucer,  much  more  elder  writers,  will 
see  that  English  is  scarcely  the  same  thing  now  as 
it  was  then. 

Though  the  sacred  languages  have  had  no  such 
great  alterations,  yet  by  this  it  may  appear,  that  it 
is  no  wonder  if  to  the  ignorant  they  seem  con- 
trary or  difficult.  Do  not  mathematics  and  all 
sciences  seem  full  of  contradictions  and  impossi- 
bilities to  the  ignorant,  which  are  all  resolved  and 
cleared  to  those  that  understand  them  ?  It  is  a  very 
foolish  audacious  thing,  that  novices  in  divinitj 
should  expect  to  have  all  difficulties  resolved 
presently,  or  else  they  will  censure  the  Scriptures, 
and  speak  evil  of  the  things  they  know  not,  instead 
of  censuring  themselves  ;  when  yet  these  men  know, 
that  in  the  easiest  science,  yea,  or  basest  manu- 
facture, they  must  have  time  to  learn  the  reasons  0/ 
them.  It  is  usual  with  raw  scholars  in  all  kinds  ol 
studies,  to  say  as  Nicodemus  did  at  first  of  regenera- 
tion, "How  can  these  things  be?"  Methinkt 
such  frail  and  shallow  creatures,  as  all  men  are, 
should  rather  be  so  sensible  of  their  own  incapacity 
and  ignorance,  as  to  be  readier  to  take  the  blame 
to  themselves  than  to  quarrel  with  the  truth. 

— Baxter,  161 5-169 1. 

(585.)  What  abundance  of  seeming  contradictions 
in  Scripture  do  rise  up  in  the  eyes  of  an  ignorant 
infidel ;  as  strange  apparitions  do  to  a  distracted 
man,  or  as  many  colours  before  the  inflamed  or 
distempered  eye.  These  self-conceited,  ignorant 
souls  do  imagine  all  to  be  impossible  which  exceed- 
eth  their  knowledge  ;  and  because  they  cannot  see 
the  sweet  consent  of  Scripture,  and  how  those 
places  do  suit  and  fortify  each  other,  which  to  them 
seem  to  contradict  each  other,  therefore  they  think 
no  one  else  can  see  it ;  no,  not  God  Himself. 
They  are  like  aa  ignorant  fellow  in  a  watchmaker'i 


BIBLE. 


(     »o3     ) 


BIBLE. 


shop,  that  thinks  nobody  can  set  all  the  loose 
pieces  together,  and  make  a  watch  of  them,  because 
he  cannot  :  when  he  hath  tried  many  ways,  and 
cannot  hit  it,  he  casts  all  by,  and  concludeth  that 
it  is  impossible.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2.)    To  oiir  prejtidices. 

(586.)  The  Bible  never  promises  truth  to  the 
undevout  and  unbelieving.  This  being  the  case, 
we  need  not  be  surprised  that  he  who  opens  it  in  a 
cavilling  hypercritical  spirit  finds  no  beauty  and 
sees  no  glory  in  it.  We  have  read  somewhere  of 
an  astronomer,  who  fancied  one  day  he  had 
made  an  extraordinary  discovery.  Looking  at  the 
sun  through  a  telescope,  he  distinctly  noticed  a 
huge  black  body  of  some  kind  which  seemed  to 
overspread  a  large  portion  of  its  surface.  Nor  was 
that  all.  The  mysterious  object  moved,  and  with 
something  like  awful  rapidity.  What  could  it  be  ? 
Had  some  sudden  and  dreadful  calamity  befallen 
the  orb  of  day  ?  Was  it  being  destroyed  ?  The 
good  man  was  alarmed  and  puzzled  for  a  while. 
At  last  it  struck  him  that  it  might  be  as  well  to 
examine  his  instrument.  This  he  did,  and  the 
investigation  soon  proved  fatal  to  the  wonderful 
discovery.  He  found  an  insect  on  the  glass  !  In 
like  manner  the  difficulties  which  sceptics  find  in 
the  Bible  are  very  often  in  themselves.  I>et  them 
examine  the  medium  through  which  they  look  at 
the  "Sun  of  Righteousness."  The  blots  are  on  it, 
not  in  Him.  — T.  K.  Stevenson, 

(3.)   To  our  presumption. 

(587.)  I  feel  no  disposition  to  stumble  at  the 
mysteries  of  Revelation  till  I  forget  myself.  He 
who  ventures  beyond  his  depth  must  be  drowned. 
There  are  some  truths  in  my  own  affairs  which, 
however  I  state  them  to  my  children,  must  appear 
to  them  strange  and  incredible  ;  could  they  be  pre- 
sented to  the  intellect  of  a  fly,  they  must  appear 
much  more  so.  There  is,  however,  some  propor- 
tion between  the  intellect  of  a  man  and  that  of  a 
fly,  but  no  proportion  at  all  between  that  which  is 
finite  and  that  which  is  infinite.  In  viewing,  there- 
fore, the  scheme  of  redemption,  I  seem  like  one 
viewing  a  vast  and  complicated  machine  of  exquisite 
contrivance  :  what  I  comprehend  of  it  is  wonder- 
ful, what  I  do  not,  is,  perhaps,  more  so  still, 

— Cecil,  1748-1810. 

(4.)   To  our  indolence. 

(588.)  There  is  also  much  diligence  necessary, 
as  well  as  time  and  patience,  before  men  can  come  to 
so  much  understanding  in  the  heavenly  mysteries, 
as  to  be  able  to  resolve  the  difiiculties  that  occur. 
If  you  stay  never  so  long  in  Christ's  school,  and  yet 
be  truants  and  loiterers,  and  will  not  take  pains,  no 
wonder  if  you  remain  ignorant.  And  yet  these  men 
will  expect  that  they  should  know  all  things,  and 
be  satisfied  in  the  answer  of  every  objection,  or  else 
they  will  suspect  the  truth  of  Christ.  Will  sitting 
still  in  Christ's  school  help  you  to  learning?  Do 
you  look  that  He  should  teach  you,  when  you  will 
not  take  pains  to  learn  what  He  teacheth  ?  You 
know  in  law,  in  physic,  in  the  knowledge  of  any  of 
the  sciences,  or  languages,  no  man  can  come  to 
understand  them,  much  less  to  defend  them  against 
all  opposers,  and  to  resolve  all  objections,  without 
so  long  diligence  and  painstaking  in  his  studies  as 
the  greatness  of  the  « ork  requires  ;  and  shall  every 


young  lazy  student  in  theology,  or  every  dull,  un- 
learned professor,  think  to  see  through  all  Scripture 
difiiculties  so  easily,  or  else  will  he  suspect  the  truth 
which  he  should  learn  ?        — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

4.  Wlxy  they  are  permitted. 

(589.)  Many  people  say,  "WTiy  does  not  the 
Bible  settle  a  great  many  points  which  are  perplex- 
ing to  men  ?  "  They  have  an  idea  that  a  book  which 
is  inspired  of  God  is  to  be  a  guide  for  the  settle- 
ment of  any  moral  questions  that  may  arise  in  the 
lives  of  men,  so  that  they  shall  not  have  the  trouble 
of  making  inquiries  on  any  subject  which  concerns 
their  higher  interests.  You  might  as  well  say, 
"  Why  did  not  God  make  a  garden  behind  every 
man's  house,  where  all  desirable  plants  should  come 
up  of  their  own  accord,  where  weeds  should  be 
banished,  and  where  everything  should  be  in  perfect 
order,  without  giving  the  owner  any  trouble?" 
It  might  as  well  be  asked,  "  Why  is  not  fruit  pro- 
vided with  wings  like  birds,  so  that  it  might  fly  in 
through  the  window  and  set  itself  down  on  people's 
laps?"  It  would  be  just  as  reasonable  to  say, 
"What  was  the  use  of  making  tilings  so  that  we 
should  have  to  work  in  order  to  get  them  ?  "  Many 
have  the  idea  that,  while  things  in  this  world  were 
being  made,  they  might  just  as  well  have  been  made 
plain  to  us  as  have  been  made  obscure.  But  that 
is  not  God's  creative  idea.  God  meant  that  man 
should  be  for  ever  building  himself,  by  thought,  by 
feeling,  by  evolution  ;  adapting  himself  to  circum- 
stances ;  sharpening  this  faculty  and  strengthening 
that  faculty  ;  lifting  up  and  pulling  down.  It  was 
the  Divine  intention  that  by  an  active  process  of 
education  we  should  be  developed  from  a  lower  to 
a  higher  state  of  being.  In  a  world  which  is  made 
on  purpose  to  kill  lazy  folks,  and  to  build  up  in- 
dustrious people,  in  a  world  which  has  been  made 
like  a  vast  grinding-stone  on  which  to  polish  and 
sharpen  men  by  attritions,  do  you  suppose  God,  in 
giving  us  the  Bible,  has  given  us  a  book  that  settles 
everything  ?  Instead  of  being  such  a  book,  it  is 
one  which  stirs  men  up,  and  requires  them  to  form 
judgments  of  their  own.  — Beecher. 

5.  How  to  deal  with  them. 

(590.)  Common  reason  tells  us  that  we  must  first 
have  a  general  proof  that  Scripture  is  God's  Word, 
and  argue  thence  to  the  verity  of  the  parts,  and  not 
begin  with  a  particular  proof  of  each  part.  It 
seems  that  you  would  argue  thus  :  This  and  that 
text  of  Scripture  are  true,  therefore  they  are  God's 
Word.  But  reason  telleth  you  that  you  should 
argue  thus :  This  is  God's  W^ord,  therefore  it  is 
true.  If  you  set  a  boy  at  school  to  learn  his  gram- 
mar, will  you  allow  him  to  be  so  foolish  as  to  stay 
till  he  can  reconcile  eveiy  seeming  contradiction  in 
it,  before  he  believe  it  to  be  a  grammar,  or  submit 
to  learn,  and  use  its  rules  ?  Or,  will  you  not  expect 
that  he  first  know  it  to  be  a  grammar,  and  then 
make  it  his  business  to  learn  to  understand  it,  and 
therein  to  learn  to  reconcile  all  seeming  contradic- 
tions? And  should  he  not  in  modesty  and  reason 
think  that  his  master  can  reconcile  that  which  may 
seem  irreconcilable  to  him,  and  such  unlearned 
novices  as  he  is  ? 

For  my  part  I  am  fully  resolved,  that  if  my 
reason  could  reach  to  none  of  the  matters  revealed 
in  Scripture,  so  as  to  see  them  in  the  evidence  of 
the  thing,  yet  if  I  once  see  the  evidence  of  Divine 
revelation,  I  may  well  be  assured  that  it  is  wholly 


BIBLE. 


(     104    ) 


BIBLE. 


tnie,  how  far  so  ever  it  may  transcend  my  reason  ; 
for  I  nave  reason  to  believe  all  that  God  revealeth 
and  asserteth  ;  and  I  have  reason  to  acknowledge 
the  imbecility  of  my  reason,  and  its  incompetency 
to  censure  the  wisdom  of  God. 

— Baxter^  161 5-169 1. 

(591.)  Consider,  how  easily  God  can  evince  the 
verity  of  those  passages  which  you  so  confidently 
reject,  and  open  your  eyes  to  see  that  as  plain  as 
the  highway,  which  now  seems  to  you  so  contradic- 
tory or  improbable  ;  and  then  what  will  you  have 
to  say  for  your  unbelief  and  arrogancy,  but  to  con- 
fess your  folly  and  sit  down  in  shame  ?  You  know 
when  any  difficult  case  is  propounded  to  you  in  any 
other  matter,  which  you  can  see  no  probable  way  to 
resolve,  yet,  when  another  hath  resolved  it  to  your 
hands  in  a  few  words,  it  is  presently  quite  plain  to 
you,  and  you  wonder  that  you  could  not  see  it  before. 
You  are  as  one  who  wearieth  himself  with  studying 
to  unfold  a  riddle,  and  when  he  hath  given  it  over 
as  impossible,  another  openeth  it  to  him  in  a  word  ; 
or,  as  I  have  seen  boys  at  play  with  a  pair  of  tarry- 
ing irons,  when  one  hath  spent  many  hours  in  tiying 
to  undo  them,  and  casts  them  away  as  if  it  could 
not  be  done,  another  presently  and  easily  opens 
them  before  his  face  ;  so  when  you  have  puzzled 
your  brains  in  searching  out  the  reasons  of  God's 
ways,  and  seeking  to  reconcile  the  seeming  contra- 
dictions of  His  Word  and  say,  "  How  can  these 
things  be?"  in  a  moment  can  God  show  you  how 
they  can  be,  and  make  all  plain  to  you,  and  make 
you  even  wonder  that  you  saw  it  not  sooner,  and 
ashamed  that  you  opened  your  mouth  in  unbelief. 
How  plain  is  that  to  a  man  of  knowledge,  which  to 
the  ignorant  seems  impossible  !  If  the  certain  event 
did  not  convince  them,  you  should  never  persuade 
the  ignorant  vulgar,  that  learned  men  know  so 
much  of  the  motions  of  the  planets,  and  can  so  long 
before  tell  the  eclipse  of  sun  or  moon  to  a  minute  ; 
but  when  they  see  it  come  to  pass,  they  are  con- 
vinced :  thus  can  God  convince  thee  of  the  verity 
of  His  Word,  either  by  a  merciful  illumination,  or 
by  a  terrible  execution  ;  for  there  is  not  a  soul  in 
hell  but  doth  believe  the  truth  of  the  threatenings 
of  God,  and  the  devils  themselves  believe,  that 
would  draw  thee  to  unbelief. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  Are  not  to  deter  us  from  its  study, 

(592.)  Many  times  when  men  do  but  hear,  read, 
or  think  of  some  objection  against  the  truth  of  God's 
revelations,  which  they  cannot  tell  how  to  answer 
themselves,  they  presently  begin  to  stagger  at  the 
whole  truth,  and  question  it  on  every  such  slight 
occasion.  If  any  new  difficulty  arise  in  their  way, 
they  are  in  the  case  of  Nicodemus  ;  saying,  "  How 
can  these  things  be?" 

If  men  were  as  foolish  and  incredulous  in  the 
matters  of  the  world,  their  folly  would  easily  appear 
to  all  men.  When  a  man  hath  studied  physic  seven 
years,  or  twenty  years,  he  shall  meet  with  many 
new  difficulties  and  doubtful  cases,  and  many  old 
difficulties  will  never  be  overcome  ;  and  yet  he  will 
not,  therefore,  throw  away  all,  and  forsake  his  study 
or  profession.  Will  a  student  in  law  give  over  all 
his  study,  upon  eveiy  occurring  difficulty  or  seeming 
contradiction  in  the  laws?  If  any  students  in  the 
universities  should  follow  this  example,  and  doubt 
of  all  that  they  have  learned  upon  every  objection 
which  they  are  unable  to  answer,  they  would  be  ill 


proficients  ;  01  if  every  apprentice  that  is  learning 
liis  trade,  will  forsake  it  every  time  that  he  is  stalled 
and  at  a  loss,  he  would  be  a  long  time  before  he 
set  up  shop  ;  on  this  course,  all  men  should  lose 
all  their  time,  lives,  and  labour,  by  doing  all  in 
vain,  and  undoing  again,  by  going  forward  and 
backward,  and  so  know  nothing,  nor  resolve  of  any 
thing. 

It  is  most  certain  that  all  men  are  very  imperfect 
in  knowledge,"  and  especially  in  the  highest  mys- 
teries;  and  there  is  none  so  high  as  those  in  theo- 
logy about  God,  and  man's  soul,  and  our  redemp- 
tion, and  our  everlasting  state ;  and,  doubtless, 
where  men  are  so  defective  in  knowledge,  there 
must  still  be  difficulties  in  their  way,  and  many 
knots  which  they  cannot  untie. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

7.  Are  not  to  hinder  us  from  exercising  faith  ia 
Christ. 

(593- )  Many  hesitate  to  yield  themselves  to 
Christ,  because  they  cannot  understand  all  that  the 
Bible  contains. 

It  admits  not  of  question  that  there  are  in  the 
Scriptures  some  "things  hard  to  be  understood" — 
deep  and  inscrutable  ]5roblems  which  no  human 
intellect  can  solve.  This  results  necessarily  from 
the  weakness  of  our  faculties,  and  the  infinite  nature 
of  the  subjects  of  which  Revelation  treats.  It  is  to 
be  expected  that  our  feeble  reason,  which  meets  a 
thousand  enigmas  even  in  the  afifairs  of  this  life, 
should  find  itself  baffled  and  confounded  whenever 
it  attempts  to  grasp  the  mighty  secrets  of  eternity. 
But  "  what  is  that  to  thee?"  These  mysteries  be- 
long only  to  the  field  of  speculative  truth — to  those 
recondite  matters  of  the  celestial  world  which  are 
wholly  dissevered  from  thy  present  wants  and  duties. 
All  that  is  practical,  all  that  relates  to  the  condition 
of  man  as  a  sinner,  to  the  method  of  his  recovery 
by  the  utoning  death  and  justifying  righteousness  of 
Christ,  and  to  the  obligations  which  press  upon  him 
in  these  circumstances,  is  entirely  plain  and  simple. 
How  irrational  is  it  for  men  to  reject  blessings  of 
which  they  have  a  conscious  need,  and  to  disregard 
commands  which  they  know  and  can  comprehend, 
because  there  may  be  other  points  connected  with 
them  which  their  limited  powers  cannot  fully  ex- 
plore !  You  would  ridicule  the  folly  of  him  who 
should  refuse  necessary  food  until  he  could  trace 
out  all  the  hidden  processes  of  digestion  and  nutri- 
tion. Not  less  absurd  are  you  in  refusing  to  become 
religious  because  you  cannot  unravel  all  the  mysteries 
of  religion.  Whatever  obscurity  may  appear  to 
your  dim  vision  to  hang  over  the  higher  realms  of 
truth,  the  fact  of  salvation  by  faith  in  Christ  is  char 
and  intelligible  to  the  weakest  capacity.  What 
madness,  then,  is  it  to  turn  away  from  the  gracious 
offers  of  the  Gospel,  from  the  plain  duties  that  are 
vital  to  your  happiness,  because  the  scheme  of  re- 
demption which  propounds  those  offers,  and  pre- 
scribes those  duties,  may  involve  other  topics  too 
vast  for  your  comprehension  !  — G.  B.  Ide. 

(594.)  An  emigrant  is  journeying  across  the  great 
American  desert  to  the  land  of  gold  and  the  clime 
of  the  sun.  He  is  perishing  with  thirst.  The 
scanty  supply  of  water  which  he  took  with  him  haa 
long  been  exhausted,  and  for  many  weary  miles  no 
spring  or  brook,  and  not  even  a  stagnant  pool  left 
from  the  winter  snows,  has  met  the  eye.  At  length, 
just  as  be  is  about  to  abandon  all  further  effort,  and 


BIBLE. 


(     105     ) 


BIBLE. 


lie  down  in  despair  to  die,  his  ear,  rendered  acute 
by  suffering,  catches  the  low,  faint  murmur  of  a 
distant  stream.  Hope  and  the  love  of  life  revive  at 
the  sound,  and  with  all  his  remaining  strength  he 
hurries  towards  it.  But  just  as  he  is  on  the  point 
of  quenching  his  thirst,  he  stops  and  says  to  him- 
self :  "  Whence  does  this  water  come  ?  Is  it  from 
rain  falling  on  the  mountain  top,  percolating  down 
through  the  fissures  in  the  rocks,  and  bubbling  out 
in  the  stream  which  I  see  ?  Or  does  its  birthplace 
lie  in  some  secret  fountain  deep  in  the  heart  of  the 
earth  ?  I  do  not  know,  and  I  will  not  drink  of  it  till 
I  do  know."  And  so  he  turns  away  to  encounter 
again  the  horrors  of  the  dry  and  burning  desert. 

Do  you  tell  me  that  fatuity  so  monstrous  is 
impossible  ?  In  relation  to  the  supply  of  bodily 
wants  it  may  be,  but  not  in  relation  to  the  needs  of 
the  soul.  Your  own  conduct  is  the  strict  moral 
parallel  of  the  case  I  have  supposed.  You  are  in 
peril  of  dying  from  spiritual  thirst.  The  necessities 
of  your  immortal  nature  cannot  be  met  by  anything 
within  yourself,  or  in  the  world  around  you.  But 
God  has  opened  a  Fountain.  Christ  has  said  :  "  If 
any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  to  Me  and  drink." 
The  waters  of  Salvation,  welling  forth  from  the 
Mercy-seat  above,  have  descended  into  copious 
floods  to  refresh  and  bless  the  earth.  And  will  you 
refuse  to  drink  of  the  River  of  Life  which  flows  full 
and  free  before  you,  proffering  health  and  gladness 
to  your  famished  soul,  because  you  cannot  discover 
everything  pertaining  to  its  source  far,  far  away  in 
the  recesses  of  the  Eternal  Mind  ?      — G.  B.  Ide. 

(595)  In  one  of  those  financial  convulsions 
which  so  often  sweep  over  the  land,  you  have  lost 
your  all.  Dig  you  cannot,  for  there  is  none  to 
hire  you.  To  beg  is  useless,  for  there  is  none  to 
give  to  you.  Famine,  gaunt  and  inexorable,  stares 
you  in  the  face.  In  this  hour  of  your  utmost  need, 
an  old  friend  meets  you,  and  looking  pitifully  into 
your  dim  eye,  lays  his  hand  on  your  shoulder,  and 
says:  "Come  home  with  me  to  dinner."  You  go 
with  him  to  a  splendid  mansion.  You  entc-  a  large 
and  richly  furnished  dining  hall.  You  see  before 
you  a  long  table  loaded  with  food  in  every  variety, 
from  the  plainest  to  the  most  luxurious.  At  the 
lower  end,  where  you  stand,  the  dishes  are  all 
simple,  nutritious,  solid,  precisely  such  as  your 
famishing  state  demands.  And  every  dish  is  open, 
showing  its  contents  at  a  glance.  But,  farther  on, 
towards  the  head  of  the  board,  there  are  dishes  of  a 
more  complicated  character,  reserved  for  a  later 
stage  of  the  feast ;  and  these  are  covered,  some  with 
covers  of  tin,  some  with  covers  of  silver,  and  some 
with  covers  of  gold.  Your  host  bids  you  welcome, 
and  presses  you  most  affectionately  to  sit  down  at 
once  and  satisfy  your  hunger.  But  instead  of 
thankfully  accepting  his  offer,  you  look  along  the 
table,  and  ask  :  "  What  is  under  the  covers 
yonder?"  Your  friend  replies  that  those  dishes 
are  not  suited  to  your  present  necessities,  that  they 
belong  to  the  dessert ;  and  that  when  you  get  to  them 
he  will  take  the  covers  off.  And  again  he  urges 
you  to  partake  of  his  bounty.  But  you  draw  your- 
self up  haughtily,  wrap  your  ragged  garments  about 
you,  and  exclaiming,  "  I'll  not  sit  down  to  a  table 
of  mysteries,"  walk  out  into  the  cold,  dark  street, 
amid  the  howling  storm,  alone  with  your  pride  and 
your  starvation.  — G.  B.  Ide. 

(596; '   r^et  me  'mpress  this  p  >int  by  yet  another 


illustration).  A  man  falls  into  a  deep  well  in  the 
cellar  of  a  lofty  building,  and  without  help  must 
inevitably  be  drowned.  From  the  ceiling  aLmve  a 
rope  is  let  down  to  him  through  the  hatchway,  anr'i 
friendly  voices  call  to  him  to  seize  hold  of  it  p 
while  strong  arms  are  ready  to  draw  him  out.  Bui 
instead  of  doing  this,  he  complains  that  he  cannot 
see  the  upper  end  of  the  rope,  and  does  not  know 
how  it  is  secured.  Those  who  are  trying  to  re-cue 
him  tell  him  nof  to  trouble  himself  about  the  upper 
end  ;  they  will  take  care  of  that  ;  they  have  it  fast 
to  a  beam  in  the  roof;  his  business  is  to  make  sure 
of  the  lower  end.  Then  he  stops  to  ask,  with  vvliat 
kind  of  a  knot  the  rope  is  fastened,  and  what  sort 
of  timber  the  beam  is  made  of  to  which  it  is  at- 
tached. Thus,  while  neglecting  the  rope,  he  con- 
tinues to  cry,  "  How  is  it  tied  ?  How  is  it  tied  ?  " 
till  the  waters  close  over  him,  and  his  vain  questions 
are  smothered  in  death  !  Do  you  say  that  such  a 
man  would  be  a  fool?  Take  heed  that  thou  he 
not  a  greater  fool.  Thou  hast  fallen  into  a  deep 
and  loathsome  well — "the  horrible  pit  and  miry 
clay  "  of  impenitence  and  sin ;  and  thou  ai  t  in 
danger  every  moment  of  sinking  down  for  ever  into 
the  "bottomless  pit"  of  hell  beneath.  God  has 
flung  out  from  heaven  the  golden  cord,  the  threefold 
coril,  of  the  Covenant  of  Mercy.  He  has  made  one 
end  of  it  fast  to  the  pillars  of  His  throne,  while  the 
other  reaches  to  thee ;  and  He  bids  thee  lay  hold  of 
it,  and  He  will  draw  thee  up  out  of  the  slough  o) 
thy  pollutions  to  the  purity  and  bliss  of  His  owr 
presence.  Dost  thou  answer,  that  the  upper  par' 
of  the  cord  is  above  thy  sight,  and  that  thou  canst  no' 
perceive  all  the  processes  by  which  it  has  beer 
secured  ?"  "  What  is  that  to  thee  ?"  Enough  fo- 
thee  to  know  that  the  rope  is  fast,  that  the  rope  ii 
strong,  able  to  bear  thy  weight,  and  that  of  million! 
like  thee.  O  sinner  !  grasp  the  rope — lay  hold  of  i' 
by  faith — cling  to  it  by  prayer  and  thou  shalt  mounl 
up,  as  on  angel's  wings,  to  the  Paradise  of  God  ; 
and  there,  safe  from  the  yawning  abyss,  thou 
mayest  ponder  through  eternity  the  strength  of  the 
rope,  and  the  infinite  wisdom  displayed  in  the 
mysteries  of  its  adjustment.  — G.  B.  Ide. 

8.  To  whom  they  are  unveil«d. 

(597.)  As  a  merchant  that  is  skilful  in  his  profes- 
sion will  not  show  his  costly  merchandise  unto 
those  whom  he  well  knoweth  will  not  buy  them, 
who  come  into  his  warehouse  either  as  curious  per- 
sons or  as  crafty  spies,  not  with  any  purpose  to  buy, 
but  to  do  some  evil,  but  calleth  unto  him  only  those 
whom  he  knoweth  to  be  willing  to  buy  ;  even  so  it 
is  the  Lord's  manner  not  to  open  the  deep  secrets 
of  His  Word  unto  them  whom  He  seeth  plainly  to 
seek  after  them  curiously,  or  with  a  corrupted  pur- 
pose, to  the  end  they  may  trample  them  under  their 
feet,  but  doth  instruct  them  only  whom  He  is  sure 
will  profit  themselves  and  others  thereby. 

— Cawdray,  1 598- 1 664, 

(598.)  Books  in  the  arts  and  sciences  may  be 
said  to  be  full  of  mysteries  to  those  who  have  not  a 
suitable  capacity  and  taste  for  them  ;  or  who  do  not 
apply  themselves  to  study  them  with  diligence,  and 
patiently  submit  to  learn  gradually  one  thing  after 
another.  If  you  put  a  treatise  on  mathematics,  or 
a  system  of  music,  into  the  hands  of  the  ploughman, 
you  will  not  be  surprised  to  find  that  he  cannot 
understand  a  single  page.  Shall  the  works  of  a  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  or  of  a  Handel,  be  thus  inexplicable 


BIBLE. 


(     io6     ) 


BIBLE. 


to  one  person,  while  another  peruses  them  with  ad- 
miration and  delight?  Shall  these  require  a  certain 
turn  of  mind,  and  a  close  attention  ?  and  can  it  be 
reasonably  supposed,  tha'.  the  Bible  is  the  only 
book  that  requires  no  pec-allar  disposition,  or  degree 
of  application,  to  be  understood,  though  it  is  de- 
signed to  make  us  acquainted  with  the  deep  things 
of  God?  (i  Cor.  ii.  lo).  In  one  respect,  indeed, 
there  is  an  encouraging  difference.  Divine  truths 
lie  thus  far  equally  open  to  all,  that  though  none 
can  learn  them  unless  they  are  taught  of  God,  yet 
all  who  are  sensible  of  their  own  weakness  may 
expect  His  teaching,  if  they  humbly  seek  it  by 
prayer.  Many  people  are,  perhaps,  incapable  of 
being  mathematicians.  They  have  not  a  genius  for 
the  science.  But  there  is  none  who  teacheth  like 
God.  He  can  give  not  only  light,  but  sight ;  not 
only  lessons,  but  the  capacity  necessary  for  their 
reception.  And  while  His  mysteries  are  hidden 
from  the  wise  and  prudent,  who  are  too  proud  to 
wait  upon  Him  for  instruction,  He  reveals  them 
unto  babes.  — Newton,  1 725-1807. 

(599.)  If  an  insolent  coxcomb  had  been  of  opinion 
that  Sir  Isaac  Newton  was  a  mere  ignoramus  in 
philosophy,  and  had  gone  info  his  company  that  he 
might  catechise,  and  afterwards,  as  occasion  should 
ofier,  expose  him  ;  it  is  not  unlikely  that  this  great 
writer,  perceiving  his  arrogance,  would  have  suffered 
him  to  depart  without  answering  his  questions,  even 
though  he  might  know  at  the  time  that  his  un- 
favourable opinion  of  him  would  thereby  be  the 
more  confirmed.  Let  us  but  come  to  the  Scriptures 
in  a  proper  spirit,  and  we  shall  know  of  the  doctrine 
whether  it  be  of  God  ;  but  if  we  approach  them  in 
a  cavilling  humour,  we  may  expect  not  only  to 
remain  in  ignorance,  but  to  be  hardened  more  and 
more  in  unbelief.      — Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815. 

(600.)  The  preaching  of  the  Apostle  Paul  was 
rejected  by  numbers  in  the  cultivated  town  of 
Corinth.  It  was  not  wise  enough,  nor  eloquent 
enough ;  nor  was  it  sustained  by  miracles.  The 
man  of  taste  found  it  barbarous  ;  the  Jew  missed 
the  signs  and  wonders  which  he  looked  for  in  a  new 
dispensation  ;  and  the  rhetorician  missed  the  con- 
vincing arguments  of  the  schools.  To  all  which  the 
Apostle  was  content  to  reply,  that  his  judges  were 
incompetent  to  try  the  question.  The  princes  of 
this  world  might  judge  in  a  matter  of  politics  ;  the 
leaders  in  the  world  of  literature  were  qualified  to 
pronounce  on  a  point  of  taste ;  the  counsellors  of 
this  world  to  weigh  an  amount  of  evidence.  But  in 
matters  spiritual,  they  were  as  unfit  to  judge  as  a 
man  without  ear  is  to  decide  respecting  harmony ; 
or  a  man  judging  alone  by  sensation,  to  supersede 
the  higher  truth  of  science  by  an  appeal  to  his  own 
estimate  of  appearances.  The  world,  to  sense, 
seems  stationary.  To  the  eye  of  reason  it  moves 
with  lightning  speed,  and  the  cultivation  of  reason 
alone  can  qualify  for  an  opinion  on  the  matter. 
The  judgment  of  the  senses  is  worth  nothing  in  such 
matters.  For  every  kind  of  truth  a  special  capacity 
or  preparation  is  indispensable. 

For  a  revelation  of  spiritual  facts,  two  things  are 
needed  : — First,  a  Divine  truth  ;  next,  a  spirit  which 
can  receive  it. 

Therefore  the  Apostle's  whole  defence  resolved 
itself  into  this  : — The  natural  man  receiveth  not  the 
things  which  are  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  The  world 
by  wisdom  knew  not  God.      And  his  vindication 


of  his  teaching  was— These  revealed  truths  canno< 
be  seen  by  the  eye,  heard  by  the  ear,  or  guessed  b) 
the  heart  ;  they  are  visible,  audible,  imaginable, 
only  to  the  spirit  By  the  spiritually  prepared 
they  are  recognised  as  beautiful,  though  they  b« 
folly  to  all  the  world  beside. 

—F.  IF.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

9.  Disappear  under  a  comprehensive  criticism. 

(601.)  We  are  confident  that  the  careful  and 
minute  study  of  the  evangelists,  in  the  light  ol 
grammar,  of  philology,  and  of  history,  results  in  the 
unassailable  conviction  of  their  trustworthiness. 
The  process  is  one  of  those  profound  and  uncon- 
scious ones  which  bring  us  to  the  goal  before  we 
are  aware.  The  conviction  that  the  four  Gospels 
are  organically  connected,  and  constitute  one  living 
and  perfect  harmony,  cannot  be  violently  and 
quickly  forced  upon  the  mind.  At  first  sight,  the 
objections  and  difficulties  fill  the  foreground ; 
particularly  when  protruded  and  pressed  upon  the 
notice  by  the  dexterity  of  the  biassed  and  hostile 
critic.  But  as  when  we  look  upon  a  grand  paint- 
ing, in  which  there  are  a  great  variety  and  complex- 
ity and  apparent  contrariety  of  elements,  it  requires 
some  little  time  for  the  eye  to  settle  gradually 
and  unconsciously  into  the  point  from  which  the 
whole  shapes  itself  into  harmony  and  beauty,  so  it 
requires  wise  delay,  and  the  slow  penetration  of 
scholarship  and  meditation,  to  reach  that  centre 
from  which  all  the  parts  of  the  evangelical  biography 
arrange  themselves  harmoniously,  and  all  contradic- 
tion disappears  for  ever.  And  when  this  centre  is 
once  reached,  and  the  intrinsic,  natural,  artless 
harmony  is  once  perceived,  there  is  repose,  and 
there  is  boldness,  and  there  is  authority.  He  who 
speaks  of  Christ  out  of  this  intuition,  speaks  with 
freedom,  with  enthusiasm,  with  love,  and  with 
power.  Objections  which  at  first  sight  seemed  acute, 
now  look  puerile.  The  piecemeal  criticism  which, 
like  the  fly,  scans  only  the  edge  of  a  plinth  in  the 
great  edifice  upon  which  it  crawls,  disappears  undei 
a  criticism  that  is  all-comprehending  and  all-survey- 
ing. — Shedd. 

XVII.     ITS   PROHIBITIONS    AND    THREAT- 

ENINGS. 

(602.)  A  single  prohibition  is  so  planted  by  God 
in  the  Scriptures,  that,  like  a  piece  of  ordnance,  it 
may  be  said  to  enfilade  and  sweep  a  whole  territory 
of  sin  ;  nothing  can  come  within  its  range  without 
challenging  its  thunder,  and  courting  death.  A 
single  rule  is  said  to  contain  laws  for  an  indefinite 
number  of  actions  ;  for  all  the  possible  cases  of  the 
class  described  which  can  ever  occur.  Like  the 
few  imaginary  circles  by  which  geography  circum- 
scribes the  earth,  he  has  by  a  few  sentences  de- 
scribed, and  distributed  into  sections  the  whole 
globe  of  duty ;  so  that  wherever  we  may  be  on  it, 
we  find  ourselves  encompassed  by  some  comprehen- 
sive maxims ;  and  in  whatever  direction  we  may 
move,  we  have  only  to  reflect,  in  order  to  perceive 
that  we  are  receding  from,  or  approaching  to,  some 
line  of  morality.  — Harris. 

(603,)  Though  heaven  be  so  rich  a  jewel  that  it 
needs  no  foil  to  set  oflF  its  lustre  to  those  who  are 
clear  sighted  to  behold  -it ;  yet  Id  a  merciful  com- 
passion to  man  the  Gospel  reveals  what  will  be  the 
recompense   of  wilful,  continued  disobedience — an 


BIBLE. 


(     107     ) 


BIBLE. 


atemal  hell,  wherein  the  justice  and  power  of  God 
are  terribly  glorified.     And  what  is  more  powerful 
to  excite  the  sensual  and   secure  who  despise   the 
blessed  hope,  than  the  fear  of  an  immortal  death? 
— Batesy  1625-1699. 

(604.)  They  fall  like  thunderbolts,  but  where?  I 
have  read  how  a  ship  that  rode  the  waters,  armed 
with  a  broadside  of  cannon  enough  to  sink  any 
common  craft,  when  in  chase  of  another  vessel, 
pointed  her  guns  so  as  to  send  the  shot  crashing 
through  the  other's  rigging,  or  leaping  on  the  deep 
before  her  bows.  Her  purpose,  not  to  sink  the  fly- 
ing sail,  but  wing  her  ;  and  compelling  her  to  bring 
to,  make  her  captive.  She  might  have  sunk  the 
enemy  ;  but  in  so  thundering  she  sought  to  save 
her,  and  make  a  prize  of  her.  And  just  so  does  a 
iong-sufiering  God  with  those  that  madly  flee  from 
Him.  Therefore  the  Bible  threatens  and  thunders  ; 
not  otherwise.  But  why  flee  ?  Vain  the  flight 
where  God  pursues ;  and  worse  than  vain  !  He  is 
willing  to  forgive  ;  and  what  folly,  what  madness,  to 
fly  till.  Divine  patience  at  length  exhausted.  He 
ceases  to  follow  !  What  then  ?  The  bolt,  at  first 
sent  in  love  and  mercy  wide  of  the  range,  is  shot 
right  to  the  mark.  Judgment,  long  delayed,  over- 
takes us ;  and  we  learn,  but  learn  too  late,  that 
whtiher  He  threatens  or  promises,  as  a  God  of 
truth,  His  word  shall  stand  for  ever.  "Oh,  that 
men  were  wise,  that  they  would  consider  this  in  the 
day  of  their  visitation  1 "  — Guthrie. 

(605.)  The  Bible  all  through  presses  men  with 
threatenings  of  punishment,  and  holds  out  to  them 
promises  of  happiness  to  lead  them  to  a  new  life. 
But  this  is  to  be  remembered,  that  it  begins  its 
work  with  men  who  are  sunk  in  sin,  and  that  the 
essence  of  sin  is  selfishness.  It  must  arrest  and 
raise  them  by  motives  adapted  to  their  condition, 
provided  that  these  motives  are  not  wrong,  and 
enlightened  self-interest,  that  is,  self-interest  which 
is  consistent  with  the  good  of  others,  is  not  wrong. 
The  Bible  is  too  broad  and  human  not  to  bring  all 
fair  motives  into  exercise.  It  is  too  philosophical 
to  lose  itself  in  the  over-refinements  of  some 
modern  philosophies  which  touch  fallen  human 
nature  as  a  needle  might  a  coat  of  mail.  It  has  its 
still  small  voice,  but  it  has  its  thunder  before  it. 
The  sleeper  must  be  roused  to  listen  ;  and  before 
the  Gospel,  and  even  with  it,  we  must  have 
Sinai's  word,  "The  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die." 
All  through  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  also  in  the 
New,  we  have  the  principle,  "  If  thou  art  wise, 
thou  art  wise  for  thyself."  "Behold,  I  have  set 
before  thee  death  and  life."  We  have  every  one  of 
us  felt  the  power  of  such  appeals,  and  perhaps  there 
is  no  stage  in  the  Christian  life  when  a  man  is 
entirely  away  from  them.  The  Apostle  Paul  was 
fearful,  "  Lest  by  any  means  he  himself  should  be  a 
castaway." 

But  to  affirm  that  this  is  the  final,  or  even  the  pre- 
vailing, motive  of  the  new  life,  is  to  mistake  or  mis- 
represent the  Bible.  If  I  rouse  a  man  from  the 
ttupor  of  an  opiate  by  force,  and  prevent  him  for 
a  while  from  recurring  to  it  by  fear,  it  is  that  I  may 
have  an  opportunity  of  going  on  to  use  reason,  and 
the  persuasion  of  love.  By  these  ultimate  weapons, 
and  by  the  spirit  which,  with  God's  help,  is  at  last 
breathed  into  man,  my  plan  is  to  be  judged.  The 
Bible  is  constantly  advancing  from  the  domain  of 
threatening  and  outward  promise  to  that  of  free  and 


unselfish  love.  Tts  strength  of  appeal  from  ths  \ery 
beginning  lies  in  the  mercy  of  God  pardoning  un- 
conditionally,— a  mercy  which,  when  the  clouds  are 
severed,  is  seen  to  be  the  face  of  the  Son  of  God, 
and  the  Man  of  Sorrows  devoting  Himself  for  those 
who  had  no  claim  on  Him,  but  that  of  guilt  and 
misery.  He  comes  from  a  throne  to  a  cross  for 
them,  and  we  see  written  on  it,  "  Herein  is  love, 
not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  God  loved  us." 
This  love  comes  from  a  Divine  P'ountain  through  a 
human  heart,  that  human  hearts  may  feel  the 
responsive  throb,  "  We  love  Him  who  first  loved 
us."  .  — Ker. 

(606.)  The  Bible  is  a  warm  letter  of  affection 
from  a  parent  to  a  child  ;  and  yet  there  are  many 
who  see  chiefly  the  severer  passages.  As  there 
may  be  fifty  or  sixty  nights  of  gentle  dew  in  one 
summer,  that  will  not  cause  as  much  remark  as  one 
hailstorm  of  half  an  hour  ;  so  there  are  those  who 
are  more  struck  by  these  passages  of  the  Bible  that 
announce  the  indignation  of  God  than  by  those  that 
announce  His  affection.  There  may  come  to  an 
household  twenty  or  fifty  letters  of  affection  during 
the  year,  and  they  will  not  make  as  much  excite- 
ment in  that  home  as  one  sheriff's  writ.  And  so 
there  are  people  who  are  more  attentive  to  those 
passages  which  announce  the  wrath  of  God  than  to 
those  which  announce  His  mercy  and  His  favour. 
God  is  a  Lion,  John  says  in  the  Book  of  Revelation. 
God  is  a  Breaker,  Micah  announces  in  his  prophecy. 
God  is  a  Rock.  God  is  a  King.  But  hear  also  that 
God  is  Love  A  father  and  his  child  are  walkiiig 
out  in  the  fields  on  a  summer's  day,  and  there  comes 
up  a  thunder-storm,  and  there  is  a  flash  of  lightning 
that  startles  the  child,  and  the  father  says,  "My 
dear,  that  is  God's  eye.''''  There  comes  a  peal  of 
thunder,  and  the  father  says,  "  My  dear,  that  is 
God's  voice."  But  the  clouds  go  over  the  sky,  and 
the  storm  is  gone,  and  light  floods  the  heavens 
and  floods  the  landscape,  and  the  father  forgets  to 
say,  "That  is  God's  stnile."  — Talmage. 


XVIII,  IS  NEITHER  INTERESTING  TO  NOR 
COMPREHENSIBLE  BY  ALL  MEN. 

(607. )  [Ona  pair  of  spectacles.  ]  I  look  upon  these, 
not  as  objects,  but  as  helps  :  not  as  meaning  that 
my  sight  should  rest  in  them,  but  pass  through 
them,  and  by  their  aid  discern  some  other  things 
which  I  desire  to  see. 

Many  such  glasses  my  soul  hath,  and  useth.  I 
look  through  the  glass  of  the  creatures  at  the  power 
and  wisdom  of  their  Maker  :  I  look  through  the 
glass  of  the  Scriptures  at  the  great  mystery  of  re- 
demption, and  the  glory  of  a  heavenly  inheritance  ; 
I  look  through  God's  favours  at  His  infinite 
mercy  ;  through  His  judgment  at  His  incompre- 
hensible justice.  But  as  these  spectacles  of  mine 
presuppose  a  faculty  in  the  eye,  and  cannot  give  me 
sight  when  I  want  it,  but  only  clear  that  sight  which 
I  have  ;  no  more  can  these  glasses  of  the  creatures, 
of  Scripture,  of  favours,  and  judgment,  enable  me 
to  apprehend  those  blessed  objects,  except  I  have 
an  eye  of  faith  whereto  they  may  be  presented. 
These  helps  to  an  unbelieving  man  are  but  as 
spectacles  to  the  blind.  As  the  natural  eyes,  so  thii 
spiritual,  have  their  degrees  of  dimness.  But  I 
have  ill  improved  my  age,  if,  as  my  natural  eyes 
decay,   my  spiritual  eye  be  not  cleared  and  con- 


BIBLE. 


(     io8    -) 


BIBLE. 


firmed  ;   but   at   my  best,   I  shall  never  but  need 
spectacles,  till  I  come  to  see  as  I  am  seen. 

— Hall,  1 574-1656. 

(608.)  In  another  apartment  of  this  great  build- 
ing of  God  is  a  room  of  titles  and  evidences  of 
property.  It  is  filled  with  legal  documents.  A 
lawyer  going  in,  is  filled  with  delight.  "The  veiy 
things  I  wanted,"  he  says  to  himself  "  Now  I 
shall  have  light  on  mooted  points."  With  what 
exultation  does  he  take  down  and  peruse  the  old, 
musty,  dusty  documents  !  Now  "he  can  trace  the 
dim  way  of  evidence.  Now  he  can  find  missing 
links.  Now  he  shall  get  the  history  of  tilings  whose 
origin  eludes  investigation.  Hearing  the  lawyer's 
enthusiastic  account  of  what  the  room  contains,  a 
neighbour  thinks  he  will  go  in  and  have  a  good 
time.  He  goes,  and  takes  down  the  black-letter 
documents,  and  yawns  and  gapes  over  what  to  him 
are  dry  and  unintelligible  hieroglypliics,  and  in  dis- 
gust retires,  saying,  "There  is  nothing  there  for 
me."  No,  for  him  there  is  not.  He  does  not  want 
what  is  there  ;  or,  he  has  not  in  him  that  which 
makes  it  instruction  to  him.  And  so  there  are  in 
God  s  Word  chambers  of  evidence.  One  man  finds 
there  a  title  of  immortality.  He  finds  there  proof 
that  he  is  God's.  He  finds  there  the  deed  of  an 
inheritance  incorruptible  and  undefiled,  and  that 
fadeth  not  away.  But  another  man  goes  to  the 
same  place  and  finds  nothing.  There  is  neither 
proof,  nor  title,  nor  deed  there  to  him.  He  is  not 
prepared  to  improve  the  advantages  that  the  room 
affords. 

In  some  sky-looking  room  in  this  same  mansion, 
you  shall  find  astronomical  instruments.  An  Airej', 
or  a  Mitchel,  would  make  for  this  room  at  once,  and 
would  be  filled  with  gladness.  For  here  are  those 
wonderful  reading  instruments  by  which  the  lore  of 
the  sky  may  be  interpreted.  Another  man  shall  go 
there,  and  he  will  see  only  strange  machines  ;  and 
as  they  will  not  grind  his  axe,  nor  cut  his  meat,  nor 
mow  his  grass,  nor  extract  stumps,  nor  haul  stones, 
nor  answer  the  purpose  of  fighting,  he  will  say, 
"What  are  all  these  machines  good  for?"  You 
cannot  make  him  understand  that  they  are  of  any 
importance.  If  you  tell  him,  "These  are  to  gaze 
upon  the  sky  with,"  his  reply  will  be,  "  I  can  gaze 
on  the  sky  without  them."  If  you  tell  him  that 
they  reveal  wondrous  things  to  which  the  natural 
eye  cannot  pierce,  and  he  attempts  to  use  them,  he 
cannot  use  them  to  any  purpose.  He  does  not  un- 
derstand them.  Now,  there  are  many  truths  of  the 
highest  grandeur  that  are  in  the  Word  cf  God  just 
what  these  instruments  are  in  this  imaginaiy  dwell- 
ing. To  some  they  are  the  wisdom  of  God  and  of 
salvation.  They  disclose  the  eternal  power  and 
godhead  of  God.  They  reveal  the  mystery  of  the 
love  of  Christ  Jesus.  They  open  to  the  minds  of 
those  who  know  how  to  employ  them  the  teachings 
of  God's  Holy  Spirit.  There  are  mysterious  realms 
of  which  men  learn  by  the  use  of  God's  spiritual 
astronomy.  To  others  these  truths  are  foolishness, 
because  they  do  not  discern  them  spiritually.  It  is 
the  man  that  determines  the  value  of  these  things. 
They  are  worthless  to  one  whose  understanding  is 
not  opened  so  that  he  can  comprehend  them  ;  and 
to  one  who  can  comprehend  them,  they  are  invalu- 
able. 

Take  another  room  fiP.ed  with  maps  and  charts. 
A.  conmion  man  looking  at  these  things  only  sees 
pale  lines,  and  dots,  and  figures.     It  is  t'ne  reposi- 


toiy  of  the  militaiy  maps  of  the  charts  of  the  coast 
survey.  All  the  hydrographic  cliavts  are  there. 
But  the  man  says,  "  They  are  neither  printing  nor 
pictures,  and  they  are  good  for  nothing."  There 
are  thousands  of  men  that  go  into  God's  Word,  and 
into  that  department  which  contains  the  map  ol  the 
way  to  virtue  and  vice,  to  eternal  life  and  eternal 
death,  to  whom  it  is  nothing.  But  send  there  on< 
who  is  waked  up  in  earnest  to  make  the  voyage,  and 
the  moment  he  sees  its  relation  to  the  thing  which 
he  is  going  to  do,  he  says,  "  I  would  give  all  the 
world  for  that."  One  does  not  care  for  it,  and 
therefore  it  is  nothing  to  him  :  the  other  does,  and 
therefore  it  is  all-important  to  him.        — Reedier. 

(609.)  Unsanctified  men  cannot  read  the  Bible  to 
profit.  If  you  bring  me  a  basket  full  of  minerals 
from  California,  and  I  take  them  and  look  at  them, 
I  shall  know  that  this  specimen  has  gold  in  it  be-' 
cause  I  see  there  little  points  of  yellow  gold,  but  I 
shall  not  know  what  the  white  and  tlie  dark  points 
are  that  I  see.  But  let  a  metallurgist  look  at  it,  and 
he  will  see  that  it  contains  not  only  gold,  but  silver, 
and  lead,  and  iron,  and  he  will  single  them  out. 
To  me  it  is  a  mere  stone,  with  only  here  and  there 
a  hint  of  gold  ;  but  to  him  it  is  a  coml>ination  o( 
various  metals.  Now  take  the  Word  of  God  ;  that 
is  filled  with  precious  stones  and  metals,  and  let  one 
instructed  in  spiritual  insight  go  through  it,  and  he 
will  discover  all  these  treasures ;  while  if  you  let  a 
man  uninstructed  in  spiritual  insight  go  through  it, 
he  will  discover  those  things  that  are  outside  and 
apparent,  but  things  that  make  God  and  man  friends, 
and  that  have  to  do  with  the  immortality  of  the  sou\ 
in  heaven,  will  escape  his  notice.  No  man  can 
know  these  things  unless  the  Spirit  of  God  has 
taught  him  to  discern  them.  The  Bible  alone  will 
not  bring  any  soul  to  heaven.  Shut  up  a  child  in 
a  great  ship  ;  shove  him  out  on  the  ocean  ;  tell  him 
to  bring  himself  to  some  distant  port.  Can  the 
little  child,  because  he  is  in  a  staunch  ship,  steer 
her  ?  Will  he  know  the  latitudes  and  longitudes  ? 
Can  he  take  her  to  her  destination  ?  But  if  you 
put  a  pilot  at  the  wheel  to  steer  her,  the  little  child 
will  make  a  safe  voyage,  and  go  safely  to  the  port 
that  he  seeks.  Now,  God's  Word  is  an  ark  that  is 
able  to  bear  the  whole  world  to  the  haven  above  ; 
but  there  must  be  something  to  steer  if  it  is  to  do 
this,  and  that  is  God's  Spirit.  Before  men  can 
avail' themselves  of  the  advantages  of  the  Bible,  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  must  teach  them  what  is 
the  meaning  of  the  things  that  it  contains  ;  it  must 
acquaint  them  \\  ith  all  the  calculations,  and  reckon- 
ings, and  methods  of  calculation  spiritual. 

— Beecher. 

XIX.    IS  PRECIOUS  TO   THE  BELIEVER. 

(610.)  The  Scripture  is  not  only  an  armour,  but 
also  a  whole  armoury  of  weapons,  both  offensive 
and  defensive,  whereby  we  may  save  ourselves,  and 
put  the  enemy  to  flight.  It  is  not  an  herb,  but  a 
tree,  or  rather  a  whole  paradise  of  trees  of  life,  which 
bring  forth  fruit  every  month,  and  the  fruit  thereof 
is  for  meat,  and  the  leaves  for  medicine.  It  is  not 
a  pot  of  manna,  or  a  cruse  of  oil,  which  were  for 
memory  only,  or  for  a  meal's  meat  or  two,  but  as  it 
were  a  shower  of  heavenly  bread  sufficient  for  a 
whole  host,  be  it  never  so  great,  and  as  it  were  a 
whole  cellar  full  of  oil  vessels,  whereby  all  our 
necessities  may  be  provided  for,  and  our  debts  dis- 
charged.    In  a  word,  it  is  a  panary  of  wholesome 


BIBLE. 


(     109    ) 


BIBLE. 


ft'od,  against  fenowed  traditions  ;  a  physician's  shop 
(St.  Basil  calls  it)  of  preservatives  against  poisoned 
heresies ;  a  pandect  of  profitable  laws,  against  re- 
bellious spirits  ;  a  treasury  of  costly  jewels,  against 
beggarly  rudiments  ;  finally,  a  fountain  of  most  pure 
water  springing  up  to  everlasting  life.  And  what 
marvel  ?  The  original  thereof  being  from  heaven, 
not  from  earth  ;  the  author  being  God,  not  man  ; 
the  inditer,  the  Holy  Spirit,  not  the  wit  of  the 
apostles  or  prophets  ;  the  penmen,  such  as  were 
sanctified  from  the  womb  and  endued  with  a  prin- 
cipal portion  of  God's  Spirit  ;  the  matter  verity, 
piety,  purity,  uprightness  ;  the  form,  God's  Word, 
God's  testimony,  Ciod's  oracles,  the  word  of  truth, 
the  word  of  salvation,  &c.  ;  the  effects,  light  of 
understanding,  stableness  of  persuasion,  repentance 
from  dead  works,  newness  of  life,  holiness,  peace, 
joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost  ;  lastly,  the  end  and  reward 
of  the  study  thereof,  fellowship  with  the  saints, 
participation  of  the  heavenly  nature,  fruition  of  an 
inheritance  immortal,  undefiled,  and  that  shall  never 
fade  away.  Happy  is  the  man  that  delighteth  in 
the  Scripture,  and  thrice  happy  that  meditateth  in 
it  day  and  night. 

—  Translators  of  the  English  Version. 

'(611.)  Let  a  man  live  in  awe  of  the  Word,  and 
make  it  his  business  to  maintain  communion  with 
God  ;  for  this  will  show  him  the  necessity  of  His 
Word  for  to  comfort  and  strengthen  him  upon  all 
occasions.  A  lively  Christian  that  in  good  earnest 
minds  his  work,  must  have  the  Word  by  him  for 
his  strength  and  sui)i)ort,  as  he  that  labours  must 
have  his  meals,  otherwise  he  will  faint.  Painted 
fire  needs  no  fuel,  and  when  we  content  ourselves 
with  a  loose  and  careless  profession,  then  we  will 
not  so  delight  ourselves  iri  God's  Book,  and  run  to 
it  for  support  of  our  souls.  But  when  we  make  it 
our  business,  then  naturally  we  will  be  carried  out 
in  love  to  the  Word.  — Manton,  1620-1677. 

(612.)  The  believing  poor  feel  the  use  and  worth 
of  the  Scriptures  as  an  illiterate  mariner  feels  the 
use  and  worth  of  his  com[iass.  The  mariner,  per- 
haps, has  neither  curiosity  nor  capacity  enough  to 
inquire  why  his  needle  takes  a  polar  direction,  or 
what  the  learned  have  to  say  on  its  observed  varia- 
tions in  different  parts  of  the  globe  ;  he  knows 
nothing  of  the  laws  of  magnetism,  why  iron  and  not 
lead  should  be  the  recipient  of  it,  when  or  by  whom 
it  was  discovered,  or  to  what  variety  of  purposes  it 
may  be  applied  ;  but  this  man  knows,  illiterate  as 
he  is,  that  it  is  by  this  needle  only  that  he  finds  his 
way  through  a  trackless  ocean  ;  he  knows  that  by 
this  alone  he  has  escaped  many  dangers,  and  ob- 
tained many  deliverances  ;  he  knows  lie  can  proceed 
safely  only  as  he  is  directed  by  it,  or  take  rest  only 
as  he  attends  to  it  ;  and  that  it  will  bring  him  home 
to  his  family  and  friends  at  last.  Thus  the  poor 
take  the  benefit  of  Revelation,  though  they  are  not 
able  accurately  to  maintain  theories,  nor  answer  ques- 
■.ions  respecting  it,  as  a  scholar  might. 

— Cecil,  1748-1810. 

(613.)  Like  other  books  the  charm  of  the  Bible 
will  very  much  depend  on  the  frame  of  mind  in  which 
it  is  studied.  To  an  earnest  reader  it  will  always 
be  interesting  ;  to  a  docile  reader  it  will  always  be 
new  and  surprising.  If  you  intend  to  visit  the  lands 
where  gold  is  gathered  you  will  peruse  with  avidity 
the  publications  which  describe  them,  and  wiiich  teii 


you  what  equipments  to  provide.  Or  if  you  are 
fond  of  some  science,  you  wid  spend  half  the  night 
devouring  a  treatise  which  expounds  its  prin(;i])ies, 
and  you  will  feel  richly  rewarded  in  your  fresh  infor- 
mation or  your  new  intellectual  mastery. 

— Hamilto'i,  18 14- 1867. 

(614.)  The  lifeboat  may  have  a  tasteful  bend  and 
beautiful  decoration,  but  these  are  not  tlie  qualities 
for  which  I  prize  it  ;  it  was  my  salvation  from  the 
howling  sea  1  So  the  interest  which  a  regenerate 
soul  takes  in  the  Bible,  is  founded  on  a  personal 
application  to  the  heart  of  the  saving  tiuth  which  it 
contains.  If  there  is  no  taste  for  this  truth,  there 
can  be  no  relish  for  the  Scriptures. 

— y.  IV.  Alexander. 

(615.)  We  could  not  afford  to  dispense  with  a 
verse  of  Holy  Writ.  The  removal  of  a  single  text, 
like  the  erasure  of  a  line  of  a  great  epic,  wouki  mar 
the  completeness  and  connection  of  the  whole.  As 
well  pluck  a  gem  from  the  high-priest's  breastplate 
as  erase  a  line  of  revelation.  — Spiirgeon. 

(616.)  How  full  of  blessed  associations  this  dear 
Book  is  1  I  walked  through  the  old  streets  of  Lon- 
don, where  every  other  house  has  a  history  such 
that  one  might  well  pause  before  it,  and  ponder  for 
hours.  I  walked  along  the  fields  where  many  a 
grand  scene  had  been  enacted.  At  Winchester  I 
visited  the  old  cathedral.  I  went  through  it.  I 
would  live  in  it  a  month,  if  I  could.  The  wide  in- 
terior was  filled  with  unimagined  beauty  and  glory. 
That  cathedral  was  built  in  successive  ages  ;  so  that 
every  part  of  the  architecture,  by  the  harmony  of 
the  varied  materials  of  which  it  was  composed,  fitly 
represented  how  all  forms  of  religious  thought  may 
be  harmonised  in  one  great  community  of  the  true 
Christian  Church.  I  saw  the  tornbs  of  the  old 
kings.  Greater  than  they  were  the  three  great 
architects  who  had  constructed  this  mighty  cathedral. 
It  was  a  museum  of  antiquity.  It  was  full  of  life. 
1  trembled  with  sensibility.  And  the  impression 
will  never  die  out  of  my  mind. 

But  what  is  that  cathedral  compared  with  this 
silent  cathedral,  the  Bible,  in  whose  aisles  have 
sounded  the  footsteps,  not  only  of  kings  and 
emperors,  but,  from  generation  to  generation,  the  foot- 
steps of  the  little  child,  and  the  mother  and  father 
of  the  houshold  ;  and  the  footsteps  of  midtitudes 
upon  multitudes  of  worthies  of  the  Church,  all  the 
way  back,  a  hundred  years,  five  hundred  years,  ten 
hundred  years,  fifteen  huntlred  years  ;  and  the  foot- 
steps of  uncounted  heroes  who  have  gone  up  to 
heaven  consoled  and  enlightened  by  tlie  pages  of 
the  Word  of  God  ?  — Ledthcr. 

XX.  ITS  HELP  ALWAYS  NEEDFUL  AND 
AVAILABLE. 

(617.)  This  is  not  a  Book  to  be  read  by  the 
lowest  form  in  Christ's  school  only,  but  besecmitig 
the  highest  scholar  that  seems  most  fit  for  a  remove 
to  Heaven's  academy.  It  is  not  only  of  use  to 
make  a  Christian  by  conversion,  but  to  make  him 
perfect  also  (2  Tim.  iii.  15).  It  is  like  the  archi- 
tect's rule  and  line,  as  necessary  to  lay  the  top-stone 
of  the  building  at  the  end  of  his  life,  as  the  founda- 
tion at  his  conversion.  They  therefore  are  like  to 
prove  foolish  builders,  that  throw  away  their  line 
before  the  house  be  finished. 

—Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 


BIBLE. 


(    no    ) 


BIBLE. 


(6i8.)  Do  you  ever  think,  as  you  pass  along  the 
chajiters  of  the  Bible,  that  they  are  now  lil<e  the 
king's  highways ;  that  aiiore  saints  than  tongvic 
couki  count  have  walked  along  these  pages  towards 
heaven  ;  that  each  verse  has  been  a  bosom  like  a 
mother's  to  some  child  in  Christ  ;  that  each  verse 
has  had  in  it  blessings  for  multitude  of  souls  ;  that 
these  passages  of  hope  and  joy  have  made  melody 
for  thrice  ten  million  struggling  souls  ;  that  these 
Scriptures  are  a  sublime  renewal  of  the  miracle  of 
the  loaf  which  increase*  by  using,  and  which  feeds 
without  diminution  ?  fhfise  unwasting  chapters 
have  supplied  armies,  and  multitudes  of  faint  and 
hungry  saints,  but  there  is  not  a  particle  gone. 
There  is  as  much  yet  for  the  famishing  soul  as  when 
first  they  were  set  forth.  To  the  end  the  loaf  siiall 
be  broken,  and  shall  yield  a  liberal  abundance  for 
every  human  want  ;  and  to  the  end  the  undiminished 
■whole  shall  remain  a  witness  and  a  miracle  of  the 
Divine  spiritual  bounty.  — Btuher. 


XXI.    FULL  OF  CHRIST. 

(619.)  Brethren,    Scripture    is     full    of    Christ. 

From  Genesis  to  Revelation  everything  breathes  of 
Him,  not  every  letter  of  every  sentence,  but  the 
spirit  of  every  chapter.  It  is  full  of  Christ,  but 
not  in  the  way  that  some  suppose  ;  for  there  is 
nothini^  more  miserable,  as  specimens  of  perverted 
ingenuity,  than  the  attempts  of  certain  commentators 
and  preachers,  to  find  remote,  and  recondite,  and 
intended  allusions  to  Christ  everyv.here.  For 
example,  they  chance  to  find  in  the  construction  of 
che  temple  the  fusion  of  two  metals,  and  this  they 
conceive  is  meant  to  show  the  union  of  Divinity 
with  Humanity  in  Christ.  If  they  read  the 
coverings  to  the  tabernacle,  they  find  implied  the 
doctrine  of  imputed  righteousness.  If  it  chance 
that  one  of  the  curtains  of  the  tabernacle  be  red, 
they  see  in  that  a  prophecy  of  the  blood  of  Christ. 
If  they  are  told  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  a 
pearl  of  great  price,  they  will  see  in  it  the  allusion 
—  that,  as  a  pearl  is  the  production  of  animal 
sufTering,  so  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  produced  by 
the  sufierings  of  tlie  Redeemer.  I  mention  this 
perverted  mode  of  comment,  because  it  is  not 
meiely  harmless,  idle,  and  useless  ;  it  is  positively 
dani^erous.  This  is  to  make  the  Holy  Spirit  speak 
riiUiles  and  conundrums,  anil  the  interpretation  of 
Scripture  but  clever  riddle-guessing.  Putting 
aside  all  this  childishness,  we  say  that  the  Bible 
is  full  of  Christ.  Every  unfulfilled  aspiration  of 
humanity  in  the  past  ;  all  [lartial  representation  of 
jjerfect  character  ;  all  sacrifices,  nay,  even  those  of 
idolatry,  point  to  the  fulfilment  of  what  we  want, 
the  answer  to  every  longing — the  type  of  perfect 
humanity,  the  Lord  lesus  Christ. 

— >:  W.  Kubirtson,  1816-1853. 


XXII.    PROFUNDITY  OF  ITS  MEANIXG. 

(620.)  For  my  part,  I  do  not  like  to  see  religious 
truths  too  logically  defined  ;  to  define  them,  yuu 
must  squeeze  the  life  out  of  them  ;  to  analyse  them, 
you  nuist  kill  them.  That  is  why  1  do  not  think  it 
ad  visa! 'le  to  bind  Christian  instruction  too  much 
to  catechisms  ;  that  is  why  1  do  not  like  to  read  too 
many  woikb  upon  systematic  theology.  System  is 
finite,  whilst  religion  is  infinite  ;  and  once  1  am  in 
the  sphere  of  systems.  I   am  out   of  the  sphere  of 


worship.  Let  Christianity  alone,  shrouded  in  its 
own  infinitude.  For  this  reason  I  love  the  Bible 
so  much  ;  it  leaves  the  impress,  the  stamp  of  the 
Infinite  on  all  subjects ;  it  does  not  attempt  to 
define  truth,  to  formulate  doctrine  ;  its  words  stretch 
forth  till  they  are  lost  in  realms  far  away.  Vou 
walk  the  road  and  see  a  pool  of  water  two  inches 
deep  ;  you  clearly  see  the  bottom.  You  look  the 
second  time  and  see  a  second  depth,  not  two  inchek 
deep,  but  deep  as  the  blue  heaven  above  you ; 
besides  showing  its  own  depth,  it  reveals  to  you 
the  depth  of  the  sky.  In  that  little  pool  you  can 
see  the  white,  fleecy  cloud,  as  far  from  you  down  in 
the  water  as  it  is  high  above  you  in  the  sky.  The 
first  dejith  is  only  two  inches ;  but  the  second 
depth  is  commensurate  with  the  altitude  of  the 
firmament.  And,  as  we  read  the  Bible,  we  are 
conscious  of  a  double  depth  ;  the  first  shows  you 
the  immediate  meaning  of  the  writer  ;  the  depth  of 
the  verse  is  just  the  measure  of  his  understanding. 
But  look  again,  and  you  will  discover  a  second 
depth,  a  second  thought,  a  second  meaning  ;  it  is 
deep  as  the  soul  of  God,  infinite  as  His  reason, 
past  finding  out  as  His  understanding.  The  Bible 
awakes  the  sense  of  the  Infinite  in  the  heart, 
and  thus  prepares  for  worship.         — y.  C.  Jones. 

(621.)  Texts  such  as  have  been  thus  selected 
from  the  inexhaustible  mine  of  truth  remind  us  of 
those  singular  formations  which  often  occur  in 
rocks,  called  Diusic  Cavities,  You  pick  up  a  rough, 
ordinary  looking  stone,  of  a  somewhat  round  shape  ; 
there  is  nothing  specially  attractive  or  interesting 
about  it.  You  split  it  open  with  a  hammer,  and 
what  a  marvellous  sight  is  displayed  !  The 
conmion-place  boulder  is  a  hollow  sphere,  lined 
with  the  most  beautiful  crystals,  amethysts  purple 
with  a  dawn  that  never  was  on  land  or  sea.  And 
so  it  is  with  many  a  familiar  Bible  text,  when  we 
examine  it  prayerfully  and  diligently.  Its  interior 
aspect,  when  broken  up  by  study  and  exjierience,  is 
widely  ililleient  from  the  a|)pearance  which  it  pre* 
sents  outside  to  the  careless  superficial  reader. 

— Macinillan, 


XXIII.  OUR  NEED  OF  THE  SPIRIT'S  HELP 
IN  ITS  STUDY. 

(622.)  The  Bible  is  like  a  wide  and  beautiful 
landscape  seen  afar  off,  dim  and  confused  ;  but  a 
good  telescojie  will  bring  it  near,  and  spread  out  all 
its  rocks,  anil  trees,  and  flowers,  and  verdant  fielils, 
and  winding  rivers  at  one's  very  feet.  That  tele- 
scope is  the  Spirit's  teaching. 

— Chalmers^  1 780- 1 847. 

(623.)  We  can't  tell  it  all.  A  little  boy  was  bom 
blind.  At  last  an  operation  was  performed — the 
light  was  let  in  slowly.  When  one  day  his  mother 
led  him  out  of  doors,  and  uncovered  his  eyes,  and 
for  the  first  time  he  saw  the  sky  and  the  earth,  "O 
mother  !  "  he  cried,  "  why  didn't  you  tell  me  it  was 
so  beautiful?"  She  burst  into  tears,  and  said,  "I 
tried  to  tell  you,  dear,  but  you  could  not  understand 
me."  So  it  is  when  we  try  to  tell  what  is  in  the 
Bible.  Unless  the  spiritual  sight  is  opened  we  can- 
not understand.  In  the  light  of  this  fact  how 
blessed,  how  to  be  desired,  is  the  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit !     Ask,  and  receive. 


BIBLE. 


(    m    ) 


BIBLE. 


XXIV.  IN  WHAT  KNOWLEDGE  OF  IT  CON- 
SISTS. 

(624.)  Knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  seems  to  con- 
sist in  two  things,  so  essentially  united,  however, 
that  I  scarcely  like  to  separate  them  even  in  thought : 
tl.e  one  I  will  call  the  knowledge  of  the  contents  of 
the  Scriptures  in  themselves  ;  the  other  the  know- 
ledge of  their  application  to  us,  and  our  own  times 
and  circumstances.  ^Arnold,  1 795-1 842. 

XXV.  HOW  FAITH  IN  IT  IS  PROVED. 

(625.)  Influenced  by  the  unanswerable  arguments 
for  the  Divine  authority  of  the  Bible,  men  often 
profess  to  believe  it,  but  they  do  not  yield  them- 
selves up  to  its  influence — they  do  not  appropriate 
its  truths  to  themselves.  When  a  man  believes 
tliat  the  house  above  his  head  is  wrapped  in  flames, 
he  acts  with  promptness  and  energy  ;  how  can  he 
then  really  believe  the  declarations  of  the  Bible  that 
he  is  exposed  to  the  wrath  and  curse  of  God  due  to 
him  for  sin,  when  he  makes  no  effort  to  escape, 
though  the  Scriptures  that  so  plainly  declare  him 
guilty  and  condemned,  point  out  with  equal  plain- 
ness the  way  of  salvation  freely  offered  in  the 
Gospel  ? 

(626.)  The  celebrated  John  Locke  has  a  remark 
to  tliis  eflect  :  the  understanding,  like  the  eye,  while 
it  discovers  all  other  things,  does  not  see  itself,  and 
it  requires  art  and  pains  to  see  it  at  a  distance,  and 
make  it  become  its  own  object.  By  looking,  how- 
ever, into  a  mirror,  the  curious  and  useful  eye  is 
reiiresented  to  itself;  and  by  attentively  gazing  at 
the  Word  of  God,  the  mind  may  become  acquainted 
with  its  own  character,  and  behold  its  true  portrait. 
And  as  the  true  use  of  a  mirror  is  to  represent  those 
parts  which  cannot  otherwise  be  seen,  and  to  enable 
a  person  to  correct  and  adjust  whatever  may  require 
correction  or  adjustment ;  just  so  the  Word  of  God 
is  intended  to  expose  us  to  ourselves,  and  to  enable 
us  to  make  those  improvements  which  are  necessary. 
With  too  many,  alas  !  the  discoveries  which  this  Word 
makes  are  unattended  to,  and  all  its  impressions 
forgotten.  With  others,  however,  the  views  it 
affords,  and  the  directions  it  bestows,  are  carefully 
preserved  and  diligently  followed. 

— Salter,  1840. 

XXVI.  SYMBOLICAL  DESCRIPTIONS  OF 
THE    BIBLE. 

1.  It  Is  the  sword  of  the  Spirit. 

(627.)  "  The  sword  0/ the  Spirit."  The  sword  was 
ever  esteemed  a  most  necessary  part  of  the  soldier's 
furniture,  and  therefore  hath  obtained  a  more 
general  use  in  all  ages  and  among  all  nations  than 
any  other  weapon.  Most  nations  have  some  par- 
ticular weapons  proper  to  themselves ;  but  few 
or  none  come  into  the  field  without  a  sword.  A 
pilot  without  his  chart,  a  scholar  without  his  book, 
and  a  soldier  without  his  sword,  are  alike  ridicu- 
lous. But  above  all  these,  absurd  is  it  for  one  to 
think  of  being  a  Christian,  without  knowledge  of 
the  Word  of  God,  and  some  skill  to  use  this 
weapon.  The  usual  name  in  Scripture  for  war,  is 
the  nvord,  "  /  will  call  for  a  sword  upon  all  the 
iiihabttants  of  the  earlh,"  i.e.,  I  will  send  war. 
And  this  because  the  sword  is  the  weapon  of  most 
universal   use  in  war,  and  also  that  whereby  the 


greatest  execution  is  done  in  the  battle.  Now  such 
a  weapon  is  the  IVord  of  God  in  the  Christian's 
hand.  By  the  edge  of  this  his  enemies  fall,  and  his 
great  exploits  are  done  : — "  'J hey  overcame  him  by 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb  and  the  word  of  their  testi- 
mony." —  Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(628.)  Other  arms  we  may  load  ourselves  with, 
by  tumbling  over  many  authors,  but  he  that  hath 
this  sword,  and  hath  been  but  taught  of  the  Spirit 
the  use  of  this  weapon,  is  provided  well  enough  to 
meet  the  stoutest  champion  for  error  the  devil  hath 
on  his  side  in  an  encounter.  With  this,  poor 
women  have  been  able  to  disarm  great  doctors  01 
their  studied  arguments,  ruflling  all  their  art  and 
logic  with  one  plain  place  of  Scripture  :  as  she  who 
brained  Abimelech,  that  great  commander,  by 
tumbling  a  piece  of  a  millstone  on  his  head. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

2.  It  Is  a  llGTht  to  the  feet. 

(629.)  To  apply  ourselves  to  the  writings  of  the 
wisest  heathens  in  order  to  our  happiness,  and  to 
neglect  the  Scriptures,  is  to  be  guilty  of  worse  folly 
than  the  barbarous  Indians  at  Mexico,  who  though 
their  woods  abounded  with  wax,  the  labour  of  the 
bees,  yet  only  made  use  of  brands  that  afforded  a 
little  light  with  a  great  deal  of  smoke.  Upon  the 
most  impartial  inquiry,  and  exact  search,  reason  will 
conclude,  either  there  is  no  blessed  end  for  which 
man  was  designed  by  his  Maker,  or  the  Gospel  only 
has  revealed  it,  and  the  effectual  means  to  obtain  it. 
— Batss,  i  623- 1699. 

(630.)  A  father  and  a  son  were  on  a  journey.  It 
was  late  in  the  afternoon,  but  still  clear  day  when 
they  came  to  a  cottage  by  the  roadside  and  the 
father  went  in  and  borrowed  a  lighted  lantern.  The 
young  man  was  exceedingly  amused,  and  perhaps 
he  was  a  little  vexed,  if  any  one  should  meet 
them  carrying  a  lamp  in  the  sunshine  it  would  look 
so  absurd  ;  and  what  in  the  world  was  the  use  of 
it  ?  But  the  older  traveller  took  the  young  man's 
gibes  good-humouredly,  and  only  answered,  "The 
night  Cometh; "  And  it  did  come.  They  passed 
no  more  cottages,  but  they  got  into  a  thick  forest 
wh.ere  the  daylight  faded  so  rapidly,  that  the  lantern 
already  shone  a  welcome  companion.  Not  only 
was  the  sun  gone  down,  but  the  last  streak  of  twi- 
light liad  vanished.  It  was  dreadfully  dark  ;  but 
the  good  little  lantern  spread  a  cloth  of  gold  before 
the  steps  of  the  travellers,  and  did  not  let  one 
shadow  or  phantom  come  near  them.  At  last  the 
road  divided,  "  Straight  on  !  "  cried  the  youth. 
"Not  so  fast,"  said  the  elder  ;  for  though  the  path 
to  the  right  was  less  trodden,  perhaps  it  was  the 
one  they  should  take  ;  when  fortunately  they  espied 
a  finger-post,  and  holding  the  lamp  as  high  as  they 
could,  they  read  the  direction,  and  found  that  they 
would  have  gone  utterly  wrong  had  they  not  taken 
the  narrow  and  neglected  footway.  Rejoicing  at 
their  escape  they  pushed  on  merrily  ;  and  by  and 
by  with  his  frisky  spirits  the  youngster  went  ahead, , 
and  was  far  in  advance  of  the  lantern  when  the  old 
man  heard  a  plash  and  a  shout,  and  running  up  was 
just  in  time  to  help  ashore  his  impetuous  boy  who 
had  soused  into  a  stagnant  pool,  and  who  crawled 
up  the  bank  pale  and  shivering,  with  the  leeches 
and  duckweed  clinging  to  his  garments.  "  You 
see  the  road  was  not  through  this  pool  but  round  it. 
You  should  walk  in  the  light ; "  and  so  they  again 


BIBLE. 


(      "3     ) 


BIBLE. 


set  out  together.  As  the  stillness  deepened  they 
sometimes  he.?icl  a  rustle  in  the  bushy  undergrowth, 
and  distant  howlings  or  a  sharp  snarl  .near-hand 
warned  them  that  the  beasts  of  the  forest  were 
abroad  ;  and  once  or  twice  they  could  see  a  pair  of 
fiery  opals  glaring  at  them,  but  as  soon  as  they 
turned  the  full  fiame  of  the  lantern  in  that  direction 
the  goblin  retreated.  We  need  not  tell  the  whole 
adventures  of  the  night  ;  but  at  last  they  came  to 
a  place  where  a  heavy  moan  arrested  them,  and 
searching  in  the  copse  they  found  a  man  stretched 
on  the  ground  and  badly  hurt.  He  had  either 
received  a  blow  on  the  head  or  he  had  inhaled 
some  stupefying  ether,  for  at  first  he  talked  very 
incoherently.  It  turned  out  that  as  he  had  been 
comirig  along,  a  gentleman  in  black  had  prevailed 
on  him  to  cast  his  lantern  into  the  ditch,  and  that 
soon  after  some  footpad  had  knocked  him  down,  and 
dragged  him  off  the  road  and  robbed  him  of  all  his 
money.  As  soon  as  he  was  somewhat  restored, 
they  set  him  on  his  beast  and  journeyed  together. 
The  day  was  breaking,  and  the  forest  was  thinning 
off  on  the  margin  of  a  magnificent  domain.  Tliey 
looked  forth  on  vine-clad  hills  and  a  shining  river  ; 
and  though  the  palace  itself  could  be  descried  but 
dimly, — it  was  so  far  up  in  the  dazzling  sunrise, — 
they  could  easily  make  out  many  mansions.  "  I  am 
home,"  cried  the  old  man  ;  and  the  full  morning 
was  reflected  from  his  face  as  he  added,  "  Mine 
eyes  shall  see  tlie  King  in  His  beauty  ;  they  shall 
behold  the  land  that  is  very  far  off."  And  as  he 
embraced  his  comrades  he  handed  over  the  lantern 
to  his  son,  and  said,  "  Keep  this  as  a  light  unto 
your  feet  and  a  lamp  unto  your  path."  The  youth 
prized  the  keepsake.  He  found  constant  occasion 
for  it.  He  brightened  up  the  four  windows,  by 
which  it  sent  its  light  backward  and  forward,  and  on 
either  side ;  and  with  the  point  of  a  diamond  he 
traced  these  mottoes  on  them  : — 

"Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his 
way?  By  taking  heed  thereto  according  to  Thy 
Word." 

"When  thou  goest  it  shall  lead  thee,  when  thou 
sleepest  it  shall  keep  thee  ;  and  when  thou  awakest 
it  shall  talk  with  thee  ;  for  the  commandment  is  a 
lamp,  and  the  law  is  light." 

"We  have  also  a  more  sure  word  of  prophecy, 
whereunto  ye  do  well  that  ye  take  heed,  as  unto  a 
light  that  shineth  in  a  dark  place,  until  the  day 
dawn  and  the  day-star  arise  in  your  hearts." 

"  If  we  walk  in  the  light,  as  He  is  in  the  light, 
we  have  fellowship  one  with  another  ;  and  the  blood 
of  Jesus  Christ  His  Son  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin." 

— Haniillon. 

S.  It  Is  a  grarden. 

(631.)  The  Bible  resemMes  an  extensive  and 
highly  cultivated  garden,  where  there  is  a  vast 
variety  and  profusion  of  fruits  and  flowers,  some  of 
which  are  more  essential  or  more  splendid  than 
others  ;  but  there  is  not  a  blade  suffered  to  grow  in 
it  which  has  not  its  use  and  beauty  in  the  system. 
Salvation  for  sinners  is  the  grand  truth  presented 
everywhere,  and  in  all  points  of  light;  but  "the 
pure  in  heart "  sees  a  thousand  traits  of  the  Divine 
character,  of  himself,  and  of  the  world — some  strik- 
ing and  bold,  others  cast  as  it  were  into  the  shade, 
and  designed  to  be  searched  for  and  examined^ 
some  direct,  others  t|  way  of  intimation  or  infer- 
ence. — Cecil,  174S-1810. 


XXVII.    THE  ROOT  OF  CHRISTIAN  LIT  ERA" 

TURE. 

(632.)  A  son  of  one  of  the  priests  of  Mysore,  who 
had  been  aroused  by  reading  a  tract  to  deep  anxiety 
for  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  travelled  nearly  two 
hundred  miles  to  visit  a  missionary,  in  order  to  learn 
the  way  of  God  more  perfectly.  On  one  occasion 
he  was  much  interested  in  reading  Bunyan  s  "  Pil- 
grim's Progress."  Me  said  several  times  to  the 
missionary  who  had  taught  him  and  given  him  the 
book,  that  it  was  better  than  the  Bible.  The 
missionary  pointed  him  to  the  scene  before  him, 
and  said  : 

"  Do  you  see  that  beautiful  mango-tree  there?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Don't  you  see  the  beautiful  fruit  which  drops 
its  nectar  on  the  ground  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Don't  you  eat  the  fruit  and  enjoy  its  sweet- 
ness ?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  where  would  that  tree  be  if  there  was  no 
root  to  it  ? " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  man,  "  now  I  see  what  you  mean ; 
the  Bible  is  the  root,  and  all  the  other  good  books 
in  the  world  are  produced  from  it." 

The  lesson  was  a  timely  one,  and  probably  was 
never  forgotten.  Nor  should  we  ever  forget,  while 
enjoying  the  sweetness  of  some  work  which  the 
Christian  press  sends  forth,  that  the  Bible  is  the  root 
from  which  it  springs.  Plant  that  blessed  root  in 
any  soil,  and  by  and  by  the  luscious  fruit  of  Christian 
literature  will  spring  forth.  Fail  to  plant  the  Bible, 
and  we  shall  look  in  vain  for  all  the  sweet  and  re* 
freshing  fruits. 

XXVIII.  MUST  BE  ACCEPTED  OR  REJECTED 
AS  A   WHOLE. 

(633.)  Is  all  Scripture  of  Divine  inspiration  ?  It 
condemns  the  Antinomians,  that  lay  aside  the  Old 
Testament  as  useless  and  out  of  date.  God  hath 
stampetl  a  Divine  majesty  upon  both  Testaments ; 
and  till  they  can  show  me  where  God  hath  given  a 
repeal  to  the  Old,  it  stands  in  force.  The  two  Testa- 
ments are  the  two  wells  of  salvation  ;  the  Anti- 
nomians would  stop  up  one  of  these  wells,  they 
would  dry  up  one  of  the  breasts  of  Scripture.  There 
is  much  gospel  in  the  Old  Testament ;  the  comforts 
of  the  gospel  in  the  New  Testament  have  their  rise 
from  the  Old.  The  great  promise  of  the  Messiah 
is  in  the  Old  Testament,  "A  virgin  shall  conceive 
and  bear  a  son."  Nay,  I  say  more,  the  moral  law, 
in  some  parts  of  it,  speaks  gospel,  "I  am  the  Lord 
thy  God  ; "  here  is  the  pure  wine  of  the  gospel. 
The  Saint's  great  charter,  where  God  promised  to 
"sprinkle  clean  water  upon  them,  and  put  His 
Spirit  within  them,"  is  to  be  found  primarily  in  the 
Old  Testament  (Ezek.  xxxvi.  25,  26).  So  that  they 
who  take  away  the  Old  Testament,  do  as  Samson, 
pull  down  the  pillars  :  they  would  take  away  the 
pillars  of  a  Christian's  comfort. 

—  Watson,  1690. 

(634.)  The  Old  and  New  Testaments  contain  but 
one  scheme  of  religion.  Neither  part  of  this  scheme 
can  be  understood  without  the  other  ;  and,  therefore, 
great  errors  have  arisen  from  separating  them.  They 
are  like  the  rolls  on  which  they  were  anciently 
written,    before   books  of  the  present   form   were 


BIBLE. 


(    "3    ) 


BIBLE. 


invented.  It  is  but  one  subject  and  one  system 
from  beginning  to  end  ;  but  the  view  which  we 
obtain  of  it  grows  clearer  and  clearer  as  we  unwind 
the  roll  that  contains  it.  — Cacti,  1748-lSio. 

(635.)  We  have  often  visited  the  ruins  of  a  famous 
castle  Heidelberg,  with  which  no  doubt  many  of 
our  readers  are  well  acquainted.  Long  ago  it  was 
captured,  and  that  it  might  never  be  a  stronghold  to 
the  patriots  of  Germany  again,  the  enemy  burnt  it 
and  blew  up  the  walls.  But  in  the  weedy  fosse 
there  is  a  huge  fragment  of  a  lower  which,  when 
exploded,  alighted  there  ;  and  in  the  goodly  joining 
of  its  stones  and  the  hardening  of  its  ancient  mortar 
such  a  rocky  mass  had  it  become,  that  when  lifted 
from  its  base,  instead  of  descending  in  a  shower  of 
rubbish  it  came  down  superbly  a  tower  still.  And 
like  that  massy  keep,  the  books  we  have  been  con- 
sidering are  so  knit  together  in  their  exquisite 
accuracy,  the  histories  are  so  riveted  to  one  another, 
and  the  epistles  so  morticed  into  the  histories,  and 
the  very  substance  of  epistles  and  histories  alike  is 
so  penetrated  by  that  cement  of  all-pervasive  reality, 
that  the  whole  now  forms  an  indissoluble  concrete. 
Such  a  book  has  God  made  the  Bible,  that  what- 
ever theories  wax  popular  or  whatever  systems 
explode,  "  the  Scripture  cannot  be  broken." 

— Hatnilion,  1814-1867. 


XXIX.    ITS    PRACTICAL     VALVE  NOT    AF- 
FECTED BY  CONTROVERSIES  CONCERNING  IT. 

(636.)  But  you  say,  "the  natural  sciences  are  all 
certain  ;  theology  is  all  conflict  and  confusion." 
Let  us  understand  one  another.  If  you  say  that 
the  phenomena  of  nature  are  patent  and  explicit,  we 
reply.  And  so  are  the  sayings  of  Scripture.  If 
candour  and  ingenuousness  can  interpret  the  one, 
they  may  equally  expound  the  other.  But  if  you 
say  that,  unlike  the  Word  of  God,  His  works  have 
never  been  misunderstood,  you  surely  forgot  that 
the  "  History  of  the  Inductive  Sciences  "  is  just  a 
history  of  erroneous  interpretations  replaced  by 
interpretations  less  erroneous,  and  destined  to  be 
succeeded  by  interpretations  still  more  exhaustive 
and  true.  If  you  smile  at  the  Hutchisonian  or 
Cocceian  systems  of  exegesis ;  if  you  quote  the 
hostile  theories  which  still  linger  in  the  field  of 
polemics,  we  ask,  Is  this  peculiar  to  theology? 
llave  you  forgotten  how  the  abhorrers  of  a  vacuum 
abhorred  Torricelli  and  Pascal  ?  Have  you  for- 
gotten how  the  old  physiologists  were  vexed  at 
Harvey  for  discovering  the  circulation  of  the  blood? 
]  lo  you  not  remember  how  the  Stahlian  chemists, 
like  a  burnl-out  family,  long  lingered  around  the 
ashes  of  phlogiston,  anil  denounced  the  wilful  fire- 
rising  of  Lavoisier  and  oxygen  ?  In  early  youth 
have  you  never  seen  a  disciple  of  Werner,  and 
pitied  the  affectionate  tenacity  with  which  he  clung 
to  the  last  plank  of  the  fair  Neptunian  theory  ?  Or 
would  every  world-maker  forgive  Lord  Rosse's 
telescope  if  it  swept  from  the  firmament  all  trace  of 
the  nebular  hypothesis?  Or,  because  there  is  still 
an  enussionary  as  well  as  an  undulatory  theory  of 
light,  must  we  deny  that  optics  is  a  science, 
and  must  we  hold  that  the  laws  of  refraction  and 
reflexion  are  mere  matters  of  opinion?  Nature  is 
no  liar,  although  her  "minister  and  interjireter " 
has  often  mistaken  her  meaning  ;  and,  notwith- 
standing the  errors  which  have  received  a  temporary 
s?nciion     '^'om    the    learned,    there   is,    after    all. 


nothing  but  truth  in  the  material  universe,  and,  so 
far  as  man  has  sagacity  or  sincerity  to  collect  that 
truth,  he  has  got  a  true  science,  a  true  astronomy,  a 
true  chemistry,  a  true  physiology,  as  the  case  may 
be.  And  even  so,  whatsoever  vagaries  particular 
persons  may  indulge,  or  whatsoever  false  systems 
may  receive  a  transient  support,  there  is,  after  ail, 
nothing  but  truth  in  the  Bible,  and  so  far  as  we 
have  sincerity  and  sagacity  to  collect  the  Bible- 
truth,  we  have  got  a  true  religion.  Nay,  the  most 
important  facts  and  statements  in  that  Word  speak 
for  themselves,  and  require  no  theory.  And  just  as 
a  mariner  might  safely  avail  himself  of  Jupiter's 
satellites,  though  Copernicus  had  never  existed  ; 
just  as  the  gunner  must  allow  for  the  earth's  attrac- 
tions, whatever  becomes  of  Newtonian  philosophy  ; 
just  as  the  apothecary  would  continue  to  mix  his 
salts  and  acids  in  definite  proportions,  even  although 
some  mishap  befell  the  atomic  theory  ;  just  as  we 
ourselves  do  not  close  our  eyes  and  dispense  with 
light,  until  the  partisans  of  rays  shall  have  made  it 
up  with  the  advocates  of  ether— so  the  Scriptura 
abound  in  statements  and  facts  on  which  we  may 
safely  proceed,  whatever  becomes  of  human  theories 
"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His  only 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  "  This 
is  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation, 
that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save 
sinners,"  "Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shall  be  saved."  "If  any  man  be  in  Christ 
Jesus,  he  is  a  new  creature  : "  so  far  as  it  is  founded 
on  such  sayings  as  these,  religion  is  not  only  the 
simplest,  but,  being  immediately  from  God,  it  is 
the  most  secure  of  all  the  sciences. 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

XXX.    HOW  ITS  TRUTH  IS  TO  BE  TESTED. 

(637.)  A  society  of  learned  men  caused  a  ship  to 
be  built,  and  resolved  to  make  a  voyage  lo  discover 
the  wonderful  nature  and  properties  of  the  magnetic 
needle  When  the  ship  was  ready  to  sail,  they 
went  on  board,  taking  with  them  a  great  number  oi 
books  and  all  kinds  of  instruments  ;  then  they  set 
a  magnetic  needle  in  the  midst,  and  examined  and 
observed  it.  Thus  they  sailed  to  and  fro,  looking 
at  the  needle,  and  each  had  his  own  opinion  con- 
cerning the  hidden  power  which  moved  the  needle. 

Some  called  this  secret  power  a  stream,  otliers  a 
breath,  others  again,  a  spirit  ;  some  asserted  that  it 
moved  from  the  south  to  the  north,  others  said  from 
the  north  lo  the  south.  So  a  violent  contest  arose 
among  the  learned  men,  and  they  sailed  to  and  fro 
on  the  ocean,  quarrelling  with  each  other.  Suddenly 
they  felt  a  rude  shock,  and  a  violent  ciash  was 
heard.  The  ship  had  struck  on  a  rock  and  spHt, 
and  the  waves  were  rushing  impetuously  in.  Then 
the  learned  men  were  all  seized  with  great  terror 
and  confusion  ;  they  left  the  needle,  jumped  over- 
board, and  saved  themselves  on  the  rocks.  The 
ship  was  buried  in  the  waves. 

Now,  as  they  sat  on  the  barren  rocks,  wet  through 
with  salt  water,  they  cried  out  to  one  another  that 
there  was  no  dependence  to  be  placed  in  the 
magnetic  needle  1  — Krwntiiaclier. 

XXXI.  FOLLY  AND  GUILT  OF  THOSE  WHO 
REJECT  IT. 

(638.)  God  revealed  truth  to  the  world  through 
the  lives  of  men  who  formulated  in  their  own  miuds 

H 


BIBLE. 


(    lU    ) 


BIBLE. 


great  moral  problems,  and  identified  themselves  there- 
with. And  the  results  they  were  inspired  to  record 
and  to  teach.  But  if  the  Scripture  were  disowned, 
or  if  it  were  thrown  away,  it  would  not  change  the 
truth  a  whit — though  your  competency  to  find  it 
out  might  be  changed. 

If  a  man  in  the  night,  by  the  light  of  a  lamp,  is 
trying  to  make  out  his  chart,  and  there  is  storm  in 
the  heaven,  and  storm  upon  the  sea,  and  some  one 
knocks  that  lamp  out  of  his  hand,  what  is  done  ? 
The  storm  is  above,  and  the  storm  is  below  ;  and 
the  chart  lies  dark,  so  that  he  cannot  find  it  out — 
that  is  all.  If  it  were  daylight  he  could  see  the 
chart  well  enough  ;  but  there  being  no  light,  and 
the  lamp  on  which  he  depended  for  light  being 
knocked  out  of  his  hand,  he  cannot  avail  himself  of 
thar  which  is  before  him. 

And  the  same  is  true  concerning  much  of  the 
Bible.  It  is  an  interpreter.  It  is  a  lamp  to  our 
feet  and  a  light  to  our  path.  And  those  truths 
which  have  their  e.xposition  in  the  Bible,  and  which 
are  a  revelation  of  the  structure  of  the  world,  and  of 
the  Divine  nature  and  government,  do  not  depend 
for  their  truth  upon  the  Bible  itself.  They  are  only 
interpreted  and  made  plain  by  it.  If  the  world 
disbelieved  Scripture,  they  would  simply  deprive 
themselves  of  moral  eyesight.  — Beecher, 

(^39')  Suppose  you  were  to  have  an  insurrection 
against  doctors?  Suppose,  one  by  one,  you  should 
throw  them  out  of  the  community  ?  Suppose  you 
should  do  the  work  so  thoroughly  that  there  should 
not  be  a  shred  left  of  these  despotic  men  going 
round  and  telling  people  that  they  must  take  this, 
that,  or  the  other  hateful  drug?  Suppose  you 
should  not  only  send  these  men  away,  but  burn 
their  books  and  their  medicine  ?  When  the  doctors 
were  gone,  and  the  apothecary  shops  with  all  their 
contents  were  destroyed,  and  there  was  nothing 
left  but  neuralgia,  and  rheumatisms,  and  dropsies, 
and  fevers,  would  you  be  any  better  off  than  you  are 
now  ? 

Here  is  God's  medicine-book,  full  of  wondrous 
remedies,  full  of  blessed  compounds,  for  the  cure  of 
the  diseases  of  the  human  soul,  and  you  would  get 
rid  of  it  ;  you  would  throw  it  away  ;  you  would 
destroy  it.  But  do  you  thus  take  away  depravity  ? 
Do  you  care  unbelief?  Do  you  remove  the  animal 
tha!  is  in  you — the  tiger,  the  bear,  the  monkey,  tlie 
serpent,  whose  nature  and  spots  appear  here  and 
there  ?  Do  you  turn  out  ail  this  cage  full  of  unclean 
beasts  that  are  in  the  heart,  when  you  cast  the 
Bible  from  you?  Oh  no;  you  only  turn  out  their 
keejjers.  These,  that  have  had  the  power  of 
restraining  and  controlling  the  fierce  animals  that 
ramp  and  rage  within  you,  you  put  out  of  the  way  ; 
but  the  animals  themselves  remain  to  torment  you 
still  !  You  have  given  up  the  Bible  ;  but  the  evils 
which  it  was  sent  to  cure — the  crying  need,  the 
down-sagging  trouble,  the  yearning  aspiration,  the 
lifting  up  of  the  soul  when  touched  by  the  divine 
light  and  influence — where  is  your  solution  and 
your  help  for  these  ?  — Beecher, 

(640.)  A  child  was  in  the  habit  of  going  to  an 
upper  room  or  loft  where  there  was  a  store  of 
apples ;  but  as  she  went  from  time  to  time  to  steal 
these  apples,  she  met  with  something  that  greatly 
troubled  her,  for  there  happened  to  have  been 
placed  in  that  store-room  aa  old  oil-painting.     It 


was  a  large  face,  the  eyes  of  which,  go  to  what  part 
of  the  room  the  little  girl  might,  seemed  to  follow 
her  ;  and  they  appeared  to  be  saying  to  her,  as  sIk 
stooped  down  to  take  up  the  apples  :  "  Ah  I  I  see 
you.  It  is  very  naughty.  I'll  tell  upon  you.  You 
are  sure  to  be  found  out."  Well,  this  so  annoyed 
the  little  girl,  from  time  to  time,  that  she  was  deter- 
mined to  put  a  stop  to  this  speechifying  of  these  two 
great  staring  eyes  ;  so  she  got  a  small  knife,  or  a 
pair  of  scissors,  and  struck  them  out.  Ah,  but 
there  were  still  the  two  large  holes  in  place  of  the 
eyes,  and  she  never  could  look  at  them  without 
thinking  of  the  eyes,  and  what  they  used  to  say  to 
her.  She  had  put  out  the  eyes,  but  she  had  not, 
nor  could  she,  get  rid  of  her  conscience.  Moreover, 
the  very  means  she  had  adopted  for  sinning  without 
rebuke  only  served  to  discover  her  guilt  ;  for  when 
what  had  befallen  the  painting  came  to  be  found 
out,  it  led  to  such  inquiries  as  at  last  to  reveal  the 
whole  facts. 


(64T.)  Sir.  S.  Baker  states  that  some  years  since, 
when  the  Egyptian  troops  invaded  Nubia,  a  com- 
pany of  soldiers  were  crossing  the  des;rt  on  their 
march  southward.  The  heat  was  oppressive — 
almost  beyond  endurance  ;  and  the  supply  of  water 
being  very  scanty,  the  men  were  put  upon  short 
allowance,  and  after  some  days  it  failed  altogether. 

While  thus  painfully  toiling  on,  they  saw,  or 
thought  they  saw,  in  the  horizon,  a  beautiful  lake, 
with  flourishing  palm-trees  on  its  banks.  Their 
Arab  guide,  however,  told  them  that  there  was 
neither  lake  nor  tree  in  reality  ;  that  what  they 
beheld  was  a  mirage — a  deception — a  mere  picture 
in  the  air.  They  would  not  credit  him  ;  they  pre- 
ferred to  believe  the  testimony  of  their  own  sight, 
and  insisted  that  the  guide  should  deviate  from  hit 
route,  and  follow  their  directions.  The  man  refused 
to  yield ;  he  would  not  waste  time  which  was 
precious,  nor  be  commanded  by  those  who  ought  to 
obey.  They  tried  to  compel  him  to  accompany 
them  towards  their  fancied  paradise,  and  he  resisted. 
In  the  violence  which  ensued,  the  guide  was 
stricken  down,  and  was  left  on  the  sand,  a  corpse. 

Then  the  whole  company,  eager  for  their  anti- 
cipated refreshment  and  repose,  rushed  towards  the 
scene  of  promise.  Parched  with  thirst  and  scorched 
by  the  burning  sun,  they  soon  became  bewildered, 
half-blind,  faint,  and  feeble ;  but  their  increasing 
sufferings  only  served  to  urge  them  on.  Farther 
and  farther  they  struck  into  the  wide  waste  ;  fa.rther 
and  farther  they  separated  themselves  from  their 
dead  guide,  with  whose  life  had  perished  the  secret 
of  their  safety  ;  for  he  alone  had  known  the  way  to 
the  wells  and  shady  retreats  which  are  to  be  found 
even  in  a  desert. 

The  unhappy  men  still  stumbled  on  ;  and  still  the 
visionary  lake  fled  before  them.  At  last,  as  the  sun 
declined,  the  deceptive  mirage  gradually  faded  from 
their  sight,  leaving  only  a  dreary  wa^te  of  sand. 
Then,  maddened  and  despairing,  the  guilty  men, 
reproaching  each  other  and  themselves,  threw  them- 
selves on  the  ground  in  an  agony  of  remorse  and 
despair  ;  and  few  survived  to  tell  the  tale  of  sin 
and  folly. 

Like  to  this  is  the  guilt,  and  the  folly,  and  the 
fnte  of  those  who  reject  the  guidance  of  God's  holy 
Word,  and,  walking  in  the  ways  of  their  own  heart, 
and  in  the  sight  of  their  own  eyes  (Eccles.  xL  9|| 
seek  happiness  in  worldliness  and  sin. 


BIBLE. 


(     nS     ) 


BIBLE, 


XXXII.    SHALL  ENDURE  FOR  EVER, 

(642.)  The  history,  the  morality,  the  theolog)', 
the  consistency,  the  authenticity,  and  genuineness 
of  the  Bible,  the  truth  of  its  prophecies  and  the  very 
possibility  of  its  miracles,  have  been  all  attacked  — 
each  in  its  turn,  and  with  the  same  result.  We 
have  seen  the  soldier  return  from  the  fields  of  war 
with  scars  as  well  as  medals  on  his  breast ;  but  our 
religion  has  come  out  of  a  thousand  fights  unscarred, 
from  a  thousand  fires  unscathed.  She  bears  no 
more  evidence  of  the  assaults  she  has  sustained  than 
the  air  of  the  swords  that  have  cloven  it,  or  the  sea 
of  the  keels  which  have  ploughed  its  foaming 
waves  ;  than  some  bold  rocky  headland  of  the 
billows  that,  dashing  against  it  in  proud  but  impo- 
tent fuiy,  have  shivered  themselves  on  its  sides.  I 
With  few  exceptions  the  writings  of  infidels  have  I 
sunk  into  entire  oblivion.  Their  names,  and  those  1 
of  their  authors  are  alike  forgotten.  Not  so  the 
name  of  Jesus,  of  Him  Voltaire  boasted  he  would  ' 
crush  ;  not  so  the  Word  of  God — the  blessed  book 
which  is  the  world's  most  precious  treasure,  and 
often  man's  only  solace,  as  well  in  palaces  as  in 
cabins.  While  the  works  of  once  famous  sceptics 
are  left  to  rot  on  bookshelves,  where  the  m(;th 
devours  their  memory,  and  the  spider  wraps  them 
in  her  web,  every  year  sees  the  Bible  translated  into 
some  new  tongue,  acquire  a  greater  influence,  and 
receive  a  wider  circulation.  Fulfilling  its  own  glori- 
ous predictions,  it  is  bringing  nearer  the  appointed 
time  when,  rising  over  all  opposition  like  a  llowing 
and  resistless  tide,  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  shall 
cover  the  earth  as  the  waters  the  channel  of  the 
deep.  — Guthrie, 

(643.)  If  our  faith  is  not  a  ruin,  though  a  majestic 
one,  or  if  the  Church  of  Christ  does  not  stand  in  the 
world  like  the  decaying  and  deserted  temple  of  a 
worn-out  superstition,  it  is  not  because  the  Word  of 
God  has  not  been  doubted,  denied,  attacked,  and  vili- 
fied. It  has  often  been  reviled  ;  but  it  has  never 
been  refuted.  Its  foundations  have  been  examined 
by  the  most  searching  eyes.  In  Hume,  and  Gib- 
bon, and  Voltaire,  and  La  Place,  to  pass  such 
coarse  and  vulgar  assailants  as  Tom  Paine  and 
Carlile,  with  their  few  living  followers,  the  Bible 
has  had  to  sustain  the  assaults  of  the  greatest  talent, 
the  sharpest  wit,  and  the  acutest  intellects.  To 
make  it  appear  a  cunningly-devised  fable,  philoso- 
phers have  sought  arguments  amid  the  mysteries  of 
science,  and  travellers  amid  the  hoar  remains  of 
antiquity  ;  for  that  purpose  geologists  have  ran- 
sacked the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  astronomers  the 
stars  of  heaven  ;  and  yet,  after  sustaining  the  most 
cunningly-devised  and  ably-executed  assaults  of 
eighteen  hundred  years,  there  it  stands  ;  and  shall 
stand,  defiant  of  time,  of  men,  of  devils — a  glorious 
illustration  of  the  worils  of  its  Founder,  "  On  this 
rock  have  1  built  my  Church,  and  the  gates  of  hell 
shall  not  prevail  against  it  !" 

Since  tiiose  eighteen  hundred  years  begsin  to  run, 
what  revolutions  Time  has  wrouglit  !  what  changes 
he  has  seen  !  The  oldest  monarchies  have  been 
overthrown  ;  the  dawn  of  truth  has  chased  away 
the  darkness  of  a  long  night  ;  the  maxims  of  states- 
men and  the  theories  of  science  have  shifted  like  the 
wind  ;  success  has  crowned  the  boldest  innovator 
on  all  old-estai)lished  systems.  Jove  is  gone,  but 
not  Jehovah,  the  Hebrew's  God.  On  Grecian 
keadiaiK".^  and  Roman  hills  the  temples  of  Jupiter 


stand  in  mouldering  ruin  ;  but  temples  sacred  to 
Jesus  are  rising  on  every  shore.  Since  John  wrote 
in  his  cell  ai  I'atmos,  and  Paul  preached  in  his  own 
hired  house  at  Rome,  the  world  has  been  turned  up- 
side down  ;  all  old  things  have  passed  away  ;  all 
things  on  earth  have  changed  but  one.  Rivalling 
in  fixedness,  and  mure  than  rivalling  in  brightness, 
the  stars  that  saw  our  world  born  and  shall  see  it 
die,  that  rejoiced  in  its  birth  f  rci  shall  be  mourners 
at  its  burial,  the  Woifl  of  our  God  stands  for  ever. 
Time  that  weakens  all  things  else,  has  but  strength- 
ened the  imj^regnable  position  of  the  believer's  faith, 
and  hope,  and  confidence.  And  as,  year  by  year, 
the  tree  adds  another  ring  to  its  circumference,  every 
age  has  added  the  tesiimony  of  its  events  to  this 
great  truth,  "The  grass  wiihereth,  and  the  flower 
fadeth,  but  the  Word  of  the  Lprd  shall  endure  for 
ever."  — GutkrU. 

(644.)  When  men  of  ability,  hostile,  perhaps,  to 
our  views  and  feelings,  examine  with  the  most 
critical  research,  examine  with  a  painstaking  intelli- 
gence all  the  foundations  on  which  our  Book  rests,  I 
believe  they  will  just  tend  to  this  result — that  '.bey 
will  first  help  the  friends  of  Christianity  an  I  the 
friends  of  the  Bible  to  establish  its  authority;  they 
will  then  bring  the  most  clear  proofs  of  the  authen- 
ticity and  genuineness  of  its  books,  all  the  more 
established  because  of  the  critical  storms  through 
which  they  must  pass.  If  you  wish  to  haxe  the 
rotten  twigs  and  the  old  leaves  shaken  off  from  a 
tree,  that  the  rest  may  appear  the  greener  and  the 
fairer,  you  welcome  the  breeze  that  moves  among 
the  branches.  Just  such  will  be  the  effect  of  these 
storms  through  which  we  may  have  to  pass.  Well, 
if  the  Book's  authority  is  established,  established 
notwithstanding  criticism,  established  by  craicism, 
what  happens  then  ?  W^hy,  the  same  lesearch 
examines  all  the  o'-ginal  text,  and  brings  us  to  the 
purest  text.  We  examine  a  little  further,  and  they 
bring  out  all  the  faults  in  our  translation.  With 
what  result?  Why,  purer,  more  idioma'ic,  and 
more  exact  translations.  They  have  brought  us  to 
this,  and  what  further  comes?  Why,  then  they  fall 
foul  of  our  interpretations.  Our  interpretations  are 
not  sacred  because  the  Book  is  sacred  ;  and  what 
will  happen  ?  Why,  just  what  a  strong  shower  of 
rain  brings  to  our  streets.  No  man,  when  the  rain 
is  descending  in  torrents,  ever  dreams  tiiat  the 
houses  will  fall  ;  it  will  wash  away  the  likh  off  the 
streets,  but  leave  our  houses  where  they  were. 
This  examination  clears  away,  and  I  do  not  doubt 
it  will  clear  away  interpretations  that  we  have  hjved 
and  have  clung  to,  but  it  is  only  to  give  us  more 
sound  interpretations.  And  so,  when  all  these 
things  have  been  secured — the  authority  of  the 
Book,  the  authenticity  of  all  the  books  comprised 
in  it,  the  genuineness  of  those  books,  the  purity  uf 
the  text,  exactness  of  translation,  and,  finally,  inter- 
pretations in  exact  accordance  with  the  literal 
words  that  God  has  spoken — why,  His  Word  has 
gained  a  triumph.  Who,  that  receives  Goil's  Wuid, 
does  not  wish  it  to  pass  through  all  this?  ll  is  the 
best  thing  that  can  happen,  and  it  brings  out  the 
sword  of  the  Spirit  sharper,  brighter,  keener,  and 
more  adapted  to  do  its  work  than  ever  it  was 
before.  — Baptist  Noel, 

(645.)  There  are  men  that  are  all  the  lime  afiaid 
that  something  will  happen  to  the  Bible.  1  should 
be,  if  1  had  no  more  faith  than  they  have  in  it. 
There  is  a  uiouiiiain  not  far  from  my  duelling  in  '.he 


BODY. 


(     "6    ) 


BODY. 


country,  and  I  never  got  up  in  the  night  to  see  if  it 
had  not  been  stolen  by  somebody.  ISJear  by  rolls  the 
old  Hudson,  and  I  never  said  to  myself  on  going  to 
bed,  "  How  do  I  know  that  before  morning  some- 
body will  not  run  down  with  a  quart  pot  and  carry 
off  that  river  !  "  Now,  to  me,  the  Bible  stands  as 
firm  as  mountains  stand,  and  it  is  in  as  little  danger 
of  being  overthrown  as  mighty  rivers  are  of  being 
carried  off  in  a  quart  pot.  I  am  never  afraid  that 
the  Bible  will  be  laid  aside.  1  am  never  afraid  of 
its  being  superseded.  I  feel  a  certainty  that  it  be- 
longs to  God,  that  it  is  indispensable  to  man,  and 
that,  however  much  it  may  be  neglected  or  run 
against,  it  will  take  care  of  itself,  and  maintain  its 
rightful  place.  — Beecher. 

XXXIII.  AND  YET  ITS  MISSION  IS  TRANSI- 
TORY. 

(646.)  I  think  there  may  be  one  Bible  in  heaven 
fastened  to  tlie  throne — ^just  as  now,  in  a  museum, 
we  have  a  lamp  exhumed  from  Herculaneum  or 
Nineveh,  and  we  look  at  it  with  great  interest,  and 
say,  "  How  poor  a  light  it  must  have  given  com- 
]>ared  with  our  modern  lamps."  So  I  think  that 
this  Bible,  which  was  a  lamp  to  our  feet  in  this 
world,  may  lie  near  the  throne  of  God,  exciting  our 
interest  to  all  eternity  by  the  contrast  between  its 
comparatively  feeble  light  and  the  illumination  of 
heaven.  The  Bible  now  is  the  scaffolding  to  the 
rising  temi^le  ;  but  when  the  building  is  done,  there 
will  be  no  use  for  the  scaffolding.         — TcUmage. 


BODY,  THE 

1.  Has  its  rlghta. 

(647.)  The  body  has  its  rights  ;  and  it  will  have 

them.  They  cannot  be  tramjjled  u])on  or  slighted 
without  peril.  The  body  ought  to  be  the  soul's  best 
Iriend,  and  cordial,  dutiful  helpmate.  Many  of  the 
jtudious,  however,  have  neglected  to  make  it  so  ; 
A'hence  a  large  part  of  the  miseries  of  authorship. 
Some  good  men  have  treated  it  as  an  enemy  ;  and 
then  it  has  become  a  fiend,  and  plagued  them. 

—  Gnessis  at  J  ruih, 

2.  The  folly  of  making-  Its  adornment  our  su- 
preme concern. 

{64S. )  Like  as,  if  we  dwell  in  a  borrowed  house, 
looking  weekly  when  we  must  depart,  we  will  never 
trouble  ourselves  with  any  cost  or  fitting  of  it,  as 
we  would  do  if  we  were  sure  to  remain  in  it  all  the 
da)s  of  our  lives  ;  even  so,  for  so  much  as  the  body 
is  but  a  house  lent  unto  the  soul,  from  whence  it 
luokttli  daily  to  depart,  there  is  no  reason,  then, 
why  we  should  be  so  careful  to  clothe  this  body  with 
gaudy  anti  costly  apjiarel,  which  shortly  must  rot 
and  perish,  and  so  to  neglect  the  soul,  which  is  im- 
mortal. _  — Cawdia\\  1598-1664. 

3.  The  amount  of  care  due  to  It. 

(649.)  To  the  Christian  in  duly  the  body  is  z.1  the 
beast  to  the  traveller ;  he  cannot  go  his  journey 
without  it,  and  much  ado  to  go  with  it.  If  the  flesh 
be  kept  high  and  lusty,  then  'tis  wanton,  and  will 
not  obey  ;  if  low,  then  it's  weak,  and  soon  tires. 
—  Gurnaiif  1617-1 679. 

(650.)  The  body  must  be  kept  in  that  condition 
las  fai  as  we  can)  which  is  fittest  for  the  service  of 
the  suul ;  as  you  keep  your  horse,  neither  so  pam- 


pered as  to  be  unruly,  nor  yet  so  Ijw  as  to  disable 
liim  for  travel.  But  all  that  health  and  strength 
which  makes  it  not  p-nruly,  maketh  it  the  more 
serviceable.  It  is  not  the  life  of  the  body,  but  the 
health  and  cheerfulness  which  maketh  it  lit  for  duty. 
And  so  much  pleasing  of  the  flesh  as  tendeth  but 
to  its  health  and  cheerfulness  is  a  duty,  where  it 
can  be  done  without  greater  hurt  the  other  way.  A 
heavy  body  is  but  a  dull  servant  to  the  mind  ;  yea, 
a  great  impediment  to  the  soul  in  duty,  and  a  great 
temptation  to  many  sins  ;  as  sickly  and  melancholy 
persons,  and  many  phlegmat  ic  people,  know  by  sad 
experience.  It  is  as  great  a  duty  to  help  the  body 
to  its  due  alacrity  and  fitness  for  service,  as  it  is  to 
tame  it  and  bring  it  under  by  fasting  and  sackcloth 
when  it  is  proud  and  lustful.  And  they  that  think 
fasting  on  certain  days,  in  a  formal  manner,  is 
acceptable  to  God,  when  the  state  of  the  body  is 
not  helped,  but  rather  injured  by  it,  as  if  it  were 
a  thing  required  for  itself,  do  mistakenly  offer  a 
sacrifice  to  God  which  He  requireih  not ;  and  take 
Him  to  be  an  enemy  to  man,  that  desireth  his  pain 
and  grief,  when  it  tendeth  not  to  his  good.  A 
mower  that  hath  a  good  scythe  will  do  more  in  a 
day,  than  another  that  hath  a  bad  one  can  do  in 
two.  Every  workman  knoweth  the  benefit  of  hav- 
ing his  tools  in  order,  and  every  traveller  knoweth 
the  difference  between  a  cheerful  and  a  tired  horse ; 
and  they  that  have  tried  health  and  sickness  know 
what  a  help  it  is  in  every  work  of  God  to  have  a 
healthful  body,  and  cheerful  spirits,  and  an  alacrity 
and  promptitude  to  obey  the  mind.  When  the 
sights  of  prospects,  and  beautiful  buildings,  and 
fields,  and  countries,  or  the  use  of  walks  or  gardens, 
do  tend  to  raise  the  soul  to  holy  contemplation,  to 
admire  the  Creator,  and  to  think  of  the  glory  of  the 
life  to  come  (as  Bernard  used  his  pleasant  walks), 
this  delight  is  lawful,  if  not  a  duty,  where  it  may  be 
had.  So  when  music  doth  cheer  the  mind,  and  fit 
it  for  thanks  and  praise  to  God,  and  when  the  rest 
of  the  body,  and  the  use  of  your  best  apparel,  and 
moderate  feasting,  on  the  Lord's  day,  and  other 
days  of  thanksgiving,  do  promote  the  spiritual 
ssrvice  of  the  day,  they  are  good  and  profitable ; 
but  to  those  that  are  more  hindered  by  fulness,  even 
abstinence  on  such  days  is  best.  So  that  the  use  of 
the  body  must  be  judged  of  as  it  is  a  means  or  ex- 
pression of  the  good  or  evil  of  the  mind. 

Many  things  do  remotely  fit  us  for  our  main  end, 
which,  nearly  and  directly,  seem  to  have  no  ten- 
dency to  it  ;  as  those  that  are  only  to  furnish  us 
with  natural  strength,  and  vigour,  and  alacrity,  or 
to  prevent  impediments.  As  a  traveller's  hood  and 
cloak  and  other  carriage  seem  rather  to  be  hin- 
drances to  his  speed,  but  yet  are  necessary  for  pre- 
venting the  cold  and  wet,  which  else  might  hinder 
him  more. 

Ordinarily  it  is  safest  to  be  more  fearful  of  excess 
of  fleshly  pleasure  than  of  defect  ;  for  ordinarily  we 
are  all  very  prone  to  an  excess,  and  also  the  excess 
is  more  darigerous.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 


BODY  AND  SOUL,  THE 

1.  Partners  in  life. 

(651.)  As  a  fair  and  gentle  wife,  star-like  and 
dove-like,  is  given  to  the  guanlianship  of  some  rude, 
coarse,  uncuUured  nature,  who  treads  among  her 
sweet  feelings  as  the  hoof  and  the  snout  deal  with 
flowers  in  the  garden,  so  it  is  in  that  strange  liusband 


BODY. 


(     117    ) 


BOOKS. 


and  wife,  the  body  and  the  soul :  the  soul  full  of 
sweetness,  gentleness,  purity,  and  delicacy,  and  the 
coarse  animal  body  full  of  cruel  passions.  And  they 
fare  but  ill  in  the  wedded  life  on  earth  :  the  body 
looks  down,  and  searches  the  ground  for  its  delights  : 
the  soul  looks  up,  and,  like  an  astronomer,  culls 
treasure  from  among  the  stars,  and  beyond.  The 
body  eats  and  drinks  :  the  soul  thinks  and  feels. 
The  body  lives  in  the  world,  for  the  world,  and  with 
the  world  :  tlie  soul  reaches  far  away  to  some  higher 
life  whose  need  it  feels — but  all  is  vague,  but  the 
wish,  but  the  need.  Strange  visions  rise,  but 
neither  to-day  does  the  soul  know  its  origin,  noi 
to-morrow.  The  picture  of  beauty  and  of  purity 
that  rose  bright  in  the  morning  has  faded  out  before 
night.  To-morrow  mocks  the  expectation  of  to-day. 
The  sou!  is  like  a  bird  caged  from  the  nest,  that  yet 
remembers  something  of  its  fellows  in  the  forest  of 
green  leaves,  and  in  summer  days  hears  snatches  of 
song  from  far-off  fields,  and  yearns  for  that  liberty 
which  it  has  never  proved,  for  that  companionship 
ivhich  it  so  early  missed. 

2.  Their  mutual  sympathy. 

(652.)  The  soul  and  body  in  the  present  conjunc- 
tion mutually  S)mpathise.  As  two  things  that  are 
unisons,  if  one  be  touched  and  moves,  the  other 
untouched  yet  moves  and  trembles.  The  cause  is 
from  the  vibration  the  sound  makes  in  the  air,  and 
impresses  on  solid  bodies,  moving  them  according 
to  the  harmonious  proportion  between  them.  Thus 
the  soul  and  the  body  are  two  strings  tempered  to 
such  a  correspondence,  that  if  one  be  moved,  the 
other  resents  by  an  impression  from  it. 

— Bates,  1625-1699. 

8.  The  Influence  of  the  body  on  the  soul. 

(653.)  The  operations  of  the  soul  do  much  follow 
the  disposition  and  temper  of  the  body.  There  is 
a  near  connection  and  a  sympathy  between  these 
two.  There  can  scarcely  be  grief  and  pleasure  in  one, 
but  the  other  partakes.  Pleasure  !  it  melts  the  soul 
through  the  body,  as  lightning  does  the  sword 
through  the  scabbard.  Can  the  body  be  pampered, 
and  the  soul  not  grow  wanton  ?  Can  the  carnal 
olijects  of  sense  be  received,  without  leaving  a 
tincture  upon  the  mind  ?  VVlien  the  body  is  tilled 
and  feasted,  the  soul  is  not  in  so  fit  a  posture  to 
hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness.  Herod  after 
his  feast  is  fit  to  behead,  but  not  to  hear  John 
Baptist.  — SoiiiJi,  1633-17 16. 

4.  How  the  body  Is  to  be  made  helpful  to  t&« 

BOUL 

(654.).  Polydorus,  a  heathen  youth,  had  abandoned 
the  crooked  path  of  idolatry,  and  received  with  a 
faithful  heart  the  words  of  truth.  As  he  condemned 
the  lusts  of  paganism,  and  repented  of  his  former 
life,  he  retired  into  a  solitary  place,  and  renounced 
ever)'  pleasure  of  nature  and  life  ;  for  he  said,  "The 
flesh  striveth  against  the  spirit  ;  therefore  I  will 
deaden  the  strength  of  the  senses,  and  shut  up  all 
the  paths  of  temptation." 

Then  Justus,  his  master,  who  had  converted  him, 
went  to  the  youth,  and  took  him  to  a  tree  planted 
by  a  brook,  bearing  flowers  and  fruit,  and  said  to 
him,  "  I'olydorus,  observe  this  tree.  The  Lord 
has  given  it  to  us  for  an  example,  that  we  may  be 
rich  in  good  fruit." 

Tlie  youth  looked  at  the  tree,  and  said,  "The 
tiee  is  happy;    witiiout   temptations  and   the   war 


against  the  flesh,  it  fulfils  its  destiny  in  silence, 
bearing  flowers  and  fruit  in  its  season. 

Then  the  old  man  smiled,  and  said,  "  Would  not 
the  tree  be  more  perfect  without  the  low  root  creep- 
ing along  the  dark  soil,  and  drinking  the  slimy 
nourishment  from  the  brook  ?" 

"But,"  answered  the  youth,  "it  supports  the 
stem  of  the  tree,  and  provides  it  with  sap  to  bring 
forth  flowers  and  fruit." 

Then  the  old  man  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said, 
"  Go  thou,  and  do  likewise.  Despise  not  the  senses 
nor  their  influence,  for  they  are  the  low  root  of  life ; 
but  let  them  always  be  low.  Form  what  this  root, 
conveys  to  thee  into  spiritual  flowers  and  fruit. 
Like  the  branches  and  twigs  of  the  tree,  all  thy 
thoughts  and  doings  will  then  be  directed  towards 
heaven,  and  the  light  of  truth  will  silently  lead  thee 
to  perfection." 

Thus  said  the  old  man  Justus ;  and  Polydorus 
left  the  wilderness,  lived  in  intercourse  with  nature 
and  mankind,  and  taught  many  by  his  word  and 
example.  — /'.  A.  Kruinmacher. 


BOOKS. 

1.  The  most  wonderful  of  human  works. 
(655.)  Of  all  things  which  man  can  do  or  make 

here  below,  by  far  the  most  momentous,  wonderful, 
and  worthy  are  the  things  we  call  books. 

— Carlyle. 

2.  Are  livirg'  powers. 

(656.)  Books  are  not  absolutely  dead  things,  but 
do  contain  a  progeny  of  life  in  them,  to  be  as  active 
as  that  soul  was  whose  progeny  they  are  ;  nay,  they 
do  preserve,  as  in  a  vial,  the  purest  e.'iScacy  and 
extraction  of  that  living  intellect  tliat  bred  them. 
I  know  they  are  as  lively,  and  as  vigorously  pro- 
ductive as  those  fabulous  dragon's  teeth  ;  and  being 
sown  up  and  down,  may  chance  to  bring  up  armed 
men.  And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  unless  wariness 
be  used,  as  good  almost  kill  a  man  as  kill  a  book. 
Who  kills  a  man,  kills  a  reasonable  creature — God's 
image,  but  he  who  destroys  a  good  book,  destroys 
reason  itself,  kills  the  image  of  God,  as  it  were,  in 
the  eye.  Many  a  man  lives  a  burden  to  the  earth  : 
but  a  good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master 
spirit,  embalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a 
life  beyond  life.  — John  Millon, 

3.  The  permanence  of  their  Influence. 

(657.)  Books  are  the  legacies  tliat  a  great  genius 
leaves  to  mankind,  which  are  delivered  down  from 
generation  to  generation,  as  presents  to  the  posterity 
of  those  who  are  yet  unborn.  All  other  arts  of  per- 
petuating our  ideas  continue  but  a  short  time. 
Statues  can  last  but  a  few  thousands  of  years,  edifices 
fewer,  and  colours  still  fewer  than  edifices.  Michael 
Angelo,  Fontana,  and  Raphael  will  hereafter  be 
what  Phidias,  Vitruvius,  and  Apelles  are  at  present, 
— the  names  of  great  statuaries,  architects,  and 
painters  whose  works  are  lost.  The  several  arts 
are  expressed  in  mouldering  materials.  Nature 
sinks  under  them,  and  is  not  able  to  support  the 
ideas  which  are  impressed  upon  it. 

The  circtmistance  wliich  gives  authors  an  advan- 
tage above  all  these  great  masters  is  this,  that  they 
can  multiply  their  originals;  or  rather  can  make 
copies  of  their  works,  to  what  number  they  please, 
which  shall  be  as  valuable  as  the  original  themselves. 
— Addison,  1672- 1 7 19 


BOOKS. 


(    ii8    > 


BOOKS. 


4.  Sure  storehouses  of  truth. 

(658.)  Books  are  faithful  repositories,  which  may 
be  awhile  neglected  or  forgotten,  but  when  they  are 
opened  again  will  again  impart  their  instruction. 
Memory  once  interrupted  is  not  to  be  recalled  ; 
written  learning  is  a  fixed  luminary,  which  after  the 
cloud  that  had  hidden  it  has  passed  away,  is  again 
bright  in  its  proper  station.  Tradition  is  but  a 
meteor,  which  if  it  once  falls  cannot  be  rekindled. 
— Ur.  S.  Johnson. 

5.  Not  an  umnlzed  good. 

(659.)  Books  are  not  seldom  talismans  and  spells, 
By  which  the  magic  art  of  shrewder  wits 
Holds  an  unthinking  multitude  enthrall'd. 
Some  to  the  fascination  of  a  name 
Surrender  judgment,  hoodwink'd.    Some  the 

style 
Infatuates,  and  through  labyrinths  and  wilds 
Of  error  leads  them,  by  a  time  entranced. 
^Vhile  sloth  seduces  more,  too  weak  to  bear 
The  insupportable  fatigue  of  thought, 
And  swallowing,  therefore,  without  pause  or 

chwice. 
The  total  grist  unsifted,  husks  and  all. 

— Cowper, 
%.  Love  of. 

(660.)  If  the  crowns  of  all  the  kingdoms  of 
Euro]>e  were  laid  down  at  my  feet  in  exchange  for 
my  books  and  my  love  of  reading,  1  would  spurn 
them  all.  — Fhiilon. 

(661.)  A  taste  for  books  is  the  pleasure  and  glory 
of  my  life.  I  would  not  exchange  it  for  the  riches 
of  the  Indies.  — Gibbon. 

(662.)  Were  I  to  pray  for  a  taste  which  should 
stand  me  in  stead  under  every  variety  of  circum- 
stances, and  be  a  source  of  happiness  and  cheerful- 
ness to  me  during  life,  and  a  shield  against  its  ills, 
however  things  might  go  amiss,  and  the  world 
frown  upon  me,  it  would  be  a  taste  for  reading. 
Give  a  man  this  taste  and  the  means  of  gratifying 
it,  and  you  can  hardly  fail  of  making  him  a  hap]iy 
man  ;  unless,  indeed,  you  put  into  his  hands  a  most 
perverse  selection  of  books.  You  place  him  in 
contact  with  the  best  society  in  every  period  of 
history,  —  with  the  wisest,  the  wittiest,  the  tenderest, 
the  bravest,  and  the  purest  characters  who  have 
adorned  humanity.  Vou  make  him  a  denizen  of  all 
nations,  a  contemporary  of  all  ages.  The  world 
has  been  created  for  him  1 

—Sir  J.  F.  W.  Ilerschel. 

7.  Companionship  of. 

(663.)  Books  are  the  food  of  youth,  the  delight 
of  old  age;  the  ornament  of  prosperity,  the  refuge 
and  comfort  of  adversity  ;  a  delight  at  home,  and 
Po  hindrance  abroad  ;  companions  by  night,  in 
travelling,  in  the  country.  — Cueio. 

(664.)  I  have  friends  whose  society  is  extremely 
agreeable  to  me  :  they  are  of  all  ages,  and  of  every 
country.  They  have  distinguished  themselves  both 
in  the  cabinet  and  in  the  field,  and  obtained  high 
honours  for  their  knowledge  of  the  sciences.  It  is 
easy  to  gain  access  to  them  ;  for  they  are  always  at 
my  service,  and  I  admit  them  to  my  company,  and 
dismiss  ihcm  from  it,  whenever  I  please.  They  are 
never  troublesome,  but  imnrediately  answer  every 
questi(m  I  ask  them.  Some  relate  to  me  the  events 
of  past  ages,  while  others  tf>£al  to  me  the  secrets  of 


nature.  Some  teach  me  how  to  live,  and  othen 
how  to  die.  Some,  by  their  vivacity,  drive  away 
my  cares  and  and  exhilarate  my  spirits,  while  otheri 
give  fortitude  to  my  mind,  and  teach  me  the  impor- 
tant lesson  how  to  restrain  my  desires  and  depend 
wholly  on  myself.  They  open  to  me,  in  short,  the 
various  avenues  of  all  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  upon 
their  information  1  safely  rely  in  all  emergencies. 
In  return  for  all  these  services  they  only  ask  me  to 
accommodate  them  with  a  convenient  chamber  in 
some  corner  of  my  humble  habitation,  where  they 
may  repose  in  peace  :  for  these  friends  are  more 
delighted  by  the  tranquillity  of  retirement  than  with 
the  tumults  of  society.  — Petrarch. 

(665.)  It  is  chiefly  through  books  that  we  enjoy 
intercourse  with  superior  minds,  and  these  invalu- 
able means  of  communication  are  in  the  reach  of  all. 
In  the  best  books  great  men  talk  to  us,  give  us  their 
most  precious  thoughts,  and  pour  their  souls  into 
ours.  God  be  thanked  for  books  !  they  are  the 
voices  of  the  distant  and  the  dead,  and  make  us 
heirs  of  the  spiritual  life  of  past  ages.  Books  are 
the  true  levellers.  They  give  to  all,  who  will  faith- 
fully use  them,  the  society,  the  spiritual  presence, 
of  the  best  and  greatest  of  our  race.  No  matter 
how  poor  I  am,  no  matter  though  the  prosperous  of 
my  own  time  will  not  enter  my  obscure  dwelling. 
If  the  sacred  writers  will  enter  and  take  up  their 
abode  uniler  my  roof,  if  Milton  will  cross  my  thresh- 
old to  sing  to  me  of  paradise,  and  Shakspeare  to 
open  to  me  the  worlds  of  imagination  and  the  work- 
ings of  the  human  heart,  and  Franklin  to  enrich  me 
with  his  practical  wisdom,  1  shall  not  pine  for  want 
of  intellectual  companionship,  and  I  may  become  a 
cultivated  man,  though  excluded  from  what  is  called 
the  best  society  in  the  place  where  I  live. 

—  Chamiing,  1 780-1842. 

(666.)  Just  such  is  the  feeling  which  a  man  di 
liberal  education  naturally  entertains  towards  the 
great  minds  of  former  ages.  The  debt  which  he 
owes  to  them  is  incalculable.  They  have  guided 
him  to  truth.  They  have  filled  his  mind  with  noble 
and  graceful  images.  They  have  stood  by  him  in 
all  vicissitudes,  comforters  in  sorrow,  nurses  in  sick- 
ness, companions  in  solitude.  These  frien(lshi{>s 
are  exposed  to  no  danger  from  the  occurrences  by 
which  other  attachments  are  weakened  or  dissolved. 
Time  glides  on  ;  fortune  is  inconstant  ;  tempers  are 
soured  ;  bonds  which  seemed  indissoluble  are  daily 
sundered  by  interest,  by  emulation,  or  by  caprice. 
But  no  such  cause  can  affect  the  silent  ct>nverse 
which  we  hold  with  the  highest  of  himian  intellects. 
That  placid  intercourse  is  disturbed  by  no  jealousies 
or  resentments.  These  are  the  old  friends  who  are 
never  seen  with  new  faces,  who  are  the  same  in 
wealth  and  in  poverty,  m  glory  and  in  obscurity. 
With  the  dead  there  is  no  rivalry.  In  the  dead 
there  is  no  change.  Plato  is  never  sullen.  Cer- 
vantes is  never  petulant.  Demosthenes  never  comes 
unseasonably.  Dante  never  stays  ti)o  long.  No 
difference  of  political  opinion  can  alienate  Cicero. 
No  heresy  can  excite  the  horror  of  Bossuet. 

—  Macaulay,  1800-1859. 
8.  Choice  of. 

{667.)  We  ought  to  regard  books  as  we  do  sweet- 
meats, not  wholly  to  aim  at  the  pleasanlest,  but 
chiefly  to  respect  the  whulesumest  ;  not  forbidding 
either,  but  approving  the  lallei  most. 

— riutarch. 


BOOKS. 


(    "9    ) 


BOOKS. 


(668.)  When  thou  hast  resolved  what  to  study, 
advise  what  are  the  best  books  on  that  subject,  and 
procure  them  :  as  for  indifferent  ones,  I  would  not 
have  thee  throw  away  any  time  or  pains  on  them  if 
thou  canst  get  better.  A  few  books  well  chosen, 
and  well  made  use  of,  will  be  more  profitable  to  thee 
than  a  great  confused  Alexandrian  Library. 

— Fuller^  1608-1661. 

(669.)  With  books,  as  with  companions,  it  is  of 
more  consequence  to  know  which  to  avoid  than 
which  to  choose  :  for  good  books  are  as  scarce  as 
good  companions,  and,  in  both  instances,  all  that 
we  can  learn  from  bad  ones  is,  that  so  much  time 
has  been  worse  than  thrown  away.  That  writer 
does  the  most  who  gives  his  reader  the  most  know- 
ledge and  takes  from  him  the  least  time.  That 
short  period  of  a  short  existence  which  is  rationally 
employed  is  that  which  alone  deserves  the  name  of 
life  ;  and  that  portion  of  our  life  is  most  rationally 
employed  which  is  occupied  in  enlarging  our  stock 
of  truth  and  of  wisdom.  —Colton,  1832. 

{670.)  Readers  are  not  aware  of  the  fact,  but  a 
fact  it  is  of  daily  increasing  magnitude^  and  already 
of  terrible  importance  to  readers,  that  their  first 
grand  necessity  in  reading  is  to  be  vigilantly,  con- 
scientiously select ;  and  to  know  everywhere  that 
books,  like  human  souls,  are  actually  divided  into 
what  we  may  call  "sheep  and  goats," — the  latter 
put  inexorably  on  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge  ;  and 
tending,  every  goat  of  them,  at  all  moments,  whither 
we  know,  and  much  to  be  avoided,  and,  if  possible, 
ignored,  by  all  sane  creatures !  —CarlyU. 

9.  The  test  of  a  good  book. 

(671.)  Many  books  require  no  thought  from  those 
who  read  thtm.  and  for  a  very  sini[)le  reason  ; — 
they  made  no  such  demand  on  those  wiio  wrote 
them.  Those  works  therefore  are  the  most  valuable 
that  set  our  thinking  faculties  in  the  fullest  opera- 
tion. For  as  the  solar  light  calls  forth  all  the  latent 
powers,  and  dormant  principles  of  vegetation  con- 
tained in  the  kernel,  but  which,  without  such  a 
stimulus,  would  neither  have  struck  root  downwards, 
nor  borne  fruit  upwards,  so  it  is  with  the  light  that 
is  intellectual  ;  it  calls  forth  and  awakens  into  energy 
those  latent  principles  of  thought  in  the  minds  of 
others,  which  without  this  stimulus,  reflection  would 
not  have  matured,  nor  examination  improved,  nor 
action  embodied.  — C  Uon,  1832. 

(672.)  A  good  book,  like  the  talk  of  a  great  man, 
is  seminal  and  gerniinanl.  Its  seeds  take  root  in 
your  minds  and  bring  forth  fruit  which,  if  not 
absolutely  original,  is  yet  thoroughly  your  own  and 
perfectly  fresh.  — ^V,  M.  Taylor. 

10.  Great  booka. 

(673.)  Every  great  book  is  an  action,  and  every 
great  action  is  a  book.  — Luther^  1483-1544. 

11.  The  most  useful. 

(674.)  liooks  that  you  may  carry  to  the  fire  and 
hold  readily  in  your  hand  are  the  most  useful,  after 
all.  — Dr.  S,  'Johnson. 

12.  Voluminous. 

(675.)  Were  all  books  reduced  to  their  quint- 
essence, many  a  bulky  author  would  make  his  appear- 
ance in  a  penny  paper.  There  would  scarcely  be  any 
such  thin;'  in  nature  as  a  folio  :  the  works  of  an  aee 


would  be  contained  on  a  few  shelves  ;  not  to  mentioq 
millions  of  volumes  that  would  be  utterly  annihilated. 
— Addison,  1672-17 19, 

13.  Small. 

(676.)  We  shall  generally  find  that  the  most 
excellent  books  in  any  art  or  science  have  been  stiH 
the  smallest  and  most  compendious  ;  and  this  nol 
without  ground  ;  for  it  is  an  argument  that  the  author 
was  master  of  what  he  wrote,  and  had  a  clear 
notion,  and  a  full  comprehension  of  the  subject 
before  him.  For  the  reason  of  things  lies  in  a  little 
compass,  if  the  mind  could  at  any  time  be  so  happy 
as  to  light  upon  it :  most  of  the  writings  and  dis- 
courses in  the  world  are  but  illustration  and  rhetoric, 
which  signifies  as  much  as  nothing  to  a  mind  eager 
in  pursuit  after  the  causes  and  philosophical  truth 
of  things.  — Fuller,  1637-1701. 

14.  The  best. 

(677.)  The  best  books  are  those  which  every 
reader  thinks  he  hiinselj  coiili  have  written.  Nature, 
which  is  the  highest  excellence,  seems  familiar  and 
level  to  all.  — Fascal. 

15.  Few  are  really  valuable. 

(678.)  In  books  one  takes  up  occasionally  one 
finds  a  consolation  for  the  impossibility  of  reading 
many  books,  by  seeing  how  many  might  have  been 
spared. — how  little  that  is  new  or  striking  in  the 
great  departments  of  religion,  morals,  and  senti- 
ment. — John  Foster,  1770-1843. 

16.  Poor  and  bad  are  to  be  shunned. 

(679.)  If  young  men  would  not  be  cursed  by  the 
infidelity  and  immorality  which  lurk  within  his 
(Byron's)  pages,  let  them  beware  how  they  touch  his 
volumes — as  they  would  a  beautiful  form  infected 
with  the  plague.  — Jatnes. 

(680.)  It  is  with  minds  as  with  bodies:  we  in 
our  growth  greatly  resemble  the  food  upon  which 
we  grow.  Coarse  food  will  naturally  produce  a 
coarse  body.  We  do  not  look  for  grace  and  beauty, 
for  Caucasian  symmetry  and  proportion  from  those 
who  feed  upon  offal,  and  whale  blubber,  and  the 
flesh  of  seals  and  bears  ;  and  how  can  we  expect 
minds  seizing  with  hungry  avidity  the  most  wretched 
mental  garb.ige  to  be  gifted  with  health  or  stature, 
with  athletic  vigour,  or  noble  proportions?  impos- 
sible !  and  therefore  in  the  intellectual  regions  we 
are  frequently  meeting  with  those  whose  false  and 
sickly  sentimenlality — whose  deformed  and  dwarfed 
mental  jircjportions  — betray  the  cradles  in  which 
they  were  nurtured,  the  food  upon  which  they  were 
sustained,  and  the  kingdoms  in  which  their  days  of 
wan  and  stunted  intelligence  have  been  passed. 

—E.  F.  Hood. 

{681.)  It  is  right  for  you,  young  men,  to  enrich 
yourselves  with  the  spoils  of  all  pure  literature  ;  but 
he  who  would  make  a  favourite  of  a  bad  book, 
simply  because  it  contained  a  few  beautiful  passages, 
might  as  well  caress  the  hand  of  an  assassin  because 
of  the  jewellery  which  sparkles  on  its  tmgers. 

— Joseph  Farker. 

17.  Modem. 

(682.)  The  volumes  of  antiquity,  like  medals, 
may  very  well  serve  to  amuse  the  curious  ;  but  th( 
works  of  the  moderns,   like  the  curr^-nt  coin  of  9 


BOOKS. 


(      I20     ) 


CARELESS. 


kingdom,  are  much  better  for  immediate  use  :  the 
former  are  often  prized  above  their  intrinsic  value, 
and  licpt  with  care  ;  the  latter  seldom  pass  for  more 
than  they  are  worth,  and  are  often  subject  to  the 
merciless  hands  of  sweating  critics  and  clipping 
compilers  :  the  works  of  antiquity  were  ever  praised, 
those  of  the  moderns  read  1  the  treasuics  of  our 
ancestors  have  our  esteem,  and  we  boast  the  passion; 
those  of  contemporary  genius  engage  our  heart,  al- 
though we  blush  to  own  it  :  the  visits  we  pay  the 
former  resemble  those  we  pay  the  great :  the 
ceremony  is  troublesome,  and  yet  such  as  we  would 
not  choose  to  forego  :  our  acquaintance  wMth  modern 
books  is  like  sitting  with  a  friend  ;  our  pride  is  not 
flattered  in  the  interview,  but  it  gives  more  internal 
satisfaction.  — Golasmiih,  1728-1774, 

18.  Are  meant  to  be  read. 

(683.)  If  thou  buyest  fine  booT<s,  only  to  set  up 
in  thy  closet,  and  never  readest  them,  thou  wilt  be 
hke  a  man  that  getteth  in  nice  provisions,  and  never 
eats  of  them.  —Fuller,  1608 -166 1. 

(684.)  It  is  a  vanity  to  persuade  the  world  one 

Lith  much  learning  by  getting  a  great  library.  As 
scon  shall  I  believe  every  one  is  valiant  that  hath 
a  well-furnished  armoury.  .  .  .  Some  books  are 
only  cursorily  to  be  tasted  of:  namely,  first,  volumi- 
nous bocks,  the  task  of  a  man's  life  to  read  them 
over  ;  secondly,  auxiliary  books,  only  to  be  repaired 
to  on  occasions  ;  thirdly,  such  as  are  merely  pieces 
of  formality,  so  that  if  you  look  on  them  you  look 
through  them,  and  he  that  peeps  through  the  case- 
ment of  the  index  sees  as  much  as  if  he  were  in  the 
house.  But  the  laziness  of  those  cannot  be  excused 
who  perfunctorily  pass  over  authors  of  consequence, 
and  only  trade  in  their  tables  and  contents.  These, 
like  city-cheats,  having  got  the  names  of  all 
country  gentlemen,  m.ake  silly  people  believe  they 
have  long  lived  in  those  places  where  they  never 
were,  and  flourish  with  skill  in  those  authors  they 
never  seriously  studied.  — Fuller,  1608-1661. 

19.  How  to  read  them. 

(685.)  In  reading  books,  observe  this  direction  : 
consider  the  scope  and  design  of  the  whole,  and 
judge  of  the  particular  passages  with  reference  to 
that ;  and  if  there  be  any  swigie  passage,  which  thou 
apprehendest  not  the  meaning  of,  or  which  at  the 
first  reading  seems  to  have  another  mearing  than 
is  agreeable  to  the  author's  design,  build  nothing 
upon  such  a  passage,  but  wait  awhile  to  see  if  the 
author  will  not  explain  himself;  and  if  he  does  not, 
and  thou  canst  not  at  last  discern  how  that  passage 
can,  without  some  straining  of  words,  be  reconciled 
with  others,  then  conclude  however,  and  take  for 
granted  that  the  author,  if  he  appears  a  man  of 
judgment,  is  consistent  with  himself,  and  conse- 
quently that  in  that  passage  (however  the  words 
may  sound)  he  did  not  mean  to  thwart  and  contra- 
dict all  the  rest  of  his  book. 

— Fuller,  1608-1661. 

(686.)  One  sound  book  read  for  the  purpose  of 
instruction  will  afford  more  nourishment  to  the  mind 
than  a  whole  library  skimmed  over  for  amusement. 
A  cottage  flower  gives  honey  to  the  working  bee, 
but  a  king's  garden  affords  none  to  the  fluttering 
bultertiy.  —E.  Cook. 


CARELESS,  THE 
1.  Their  inattention  to  the  plainest  -wamlnga. 

(6S7.)  It  is  said  of  birds  that  build  in  steeples, 
being  used  to  the  continual  ringing  of  bells,  tha 
sound  disquiets  them  not  at  all ;  or  as  those  that 
dwell  near  the  fall  of  the  river  Nilus  (Nile),  the 
noise  of  the  water  deafens  them  so,  that  they  mind 
it  not.  Thus  it  is  that  the  commonness  of  the  death 
of  others  is  made  but,  as  it  were,  a  formal  thing : 
many  have  been  so  often  at  the  grave,  that  now  the 
grave  is  worn  out  of  their  hearts  ;  they  have  gone 
sp  often  to  the  house  of  mourning,  that  they  aie 
grown  familiar  with  death  ;  they  look  upon  it  as 
a  matter  of  custom  for  men  to  die  and  be  buried, 
and  when  the  solemnity  is  over,  the  thoughts  of 
death  are  over  also  ;  as  soon  as  the  grave  is  out  of 
their  sight,  preparation  for  the  grave  is  out  of  their 
mind  :  then  they  go  to  their  worldly  business,  yea, 
to  coveting  and  sinning,  as  if  the  last  man  that 
ever  should  be  were  buried. 

— Caryll,  1602-1673. 

(688.)  Oh,  the  folly  of  men  that  take  not  warning 
by  others  !  Silly  fish  are  caught  by  the  angle  or 
net,  and  carried  to  the  fire,  yet  they  that  remain 
are  still  greedy  of  the  bait ;  Satan  takes  some  sinners 
with  the  snares  and  baits  of  his  temptations,  jerks 
them  out  of  the  water  of  life,  and  casts  them  into 
the  unquenchable  fire,  yet  those  that  survive  are  as 
ready  to  hearken  to  his  suggestions  as  if  there  were 
no  such  thing.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(6S9.)  Silly  man  is  like  the  foolish  chickens; 
though  the  kite  comes  and  takes  away  many  of  their 
fellows,  yet  the  rest  continue  pecking  the  ground, 
never  heeding  their  owner,  nor  minding  their  shelter. 
Death  conies  and  snatches  away  one  man'  here,  a 
second  there  ;  one  before  them,  another  behind 
them,  and  they  are  killed  by  death,  undone  for  ever  ; 
yet  they  who  survive  take  no  warning,  but  persist 
in  their  wicked  and  ungodly  ways  (Job  iv.  20,  21). 
— Hwiiuiock,  1673. 

(690.)  Wonderful  stupidity  !  that  they  who  see  that 
rarrying  dead  bodies  to  the  grave,  is  as  corimon  a 
work  as  the  midwifes  taking  children  into  the  world, 
and  that  this  life  is  but  the  road  to  another,  and 
that  all  men  are  posting  on  to  their  journey's  end, 
should  think  no  more  considerately  whither  so  many 
souls  do  go.  that  daily  shoot  the  gulf  of  death. 
Wonderful  !  .hat  it  should  be  possible  for  a  man 
awake,  to  believe  that  he  must  shortly  be  gone  from 
earth,  and  enter  into  an  unciiangcahle,  endless  life, 
and  yet  not  bend  the  thoughts  of  his  soul,  and  the 
labours  of  his  life,  to  secure  his  true  and  durable 
felicity  1  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(691.)  A  plough  is  coming  from  the  far  end  of  a 
long  field,  and  a  daisy  stands  nodding  and  full  of 
dew-dimples.  That  furrow  is  sure  to  strike  the 
daisy.  It  casts  its  shadow  as  gaily,  and  exhales  its 
gentle  breath  as  freely,  and  stands  as  simple,  and 
radiant  and  expectant,  as  ever  ;  and  yet  that  crush- 
ing furrow,  which  is  turning  and  turning  others  in 
its  course,  is  drawing  near,  and  in  a  nioui<;nt  it 
whirls  the  heedless  flower  with  sudden  reversal  under 
the  sod  ! 

And  as  is  the  daisy,  with  no  power  of  thought,  so 
are  ten  thousand  thinking,  sentient  flowers  of  life, 
blossoming  in  places  of  peiil,  and  yet  thinking  that 
no  furrow  of  disaster  is  running  in  towawi  them—' 


CARELESS.  THE 


C    «2i    ) 


CARELESS.  THE 


that  no  iron  plough  of  troiihle  is  about  to  overturn 
Ihem.  Sometimes  it  dimly  dawns  upon  us,  wlien 
we  see  other  men's  mischiefs  and  wrongs,  that  we 
are  in  the  same  category  with  them,  and  that 
perhaps  the  storms  which  have  overtaken  tliem  will 
overtake  us  also.  But  it  is  only  for  a  moment,  for 
we  are  artful  to  cover  the  ear,  and  not  listen  to  the 
voice  that  warns  us  of  our  danger.  — Beecker. 

2.  Their  folly. 

(692.)  In  a  good  pasture,  where  many  good  oxen 
are,  the  butcher  comes  and  fetclieth  away  one  and 
kills  it ;  next  day  he  fetcheth  away  another,  and 
kills  that  too.  Now,  those  which  he  leaves  behind 
feed  and  fat  themselves,  till  they  are  driven  to  the 
slaughter,  not  consiilering  what  is  become  of  their 
fellows  or  what  shall  become  of  themselves.  So, 
when  Death  comes  amongst  a  multitude  of  men, 
here  taking  one  and  there  another,  we  pamper  up 
ourselves  till  he  overtakes  us  also.  We  live  as 
though,  like  Adam  and  Abel,  we  never  saw  a  man 
die  before  us,  whereas  every  churchyard,  every  ague, 
every  sickness,  should  be  a  preacher  of  mortality 
unto  us.  — Alphoiisiis  ab  AvenJano,  1590. 

(693.)  Careless  soul  !  thou  art  like  a  passenger  in 
a  ship  ;  asleep  or  awake,  he  is  going  his  voyage. 
Thou  art  like  that  silly  bird,  that  puts  her  head 
among  the  reeds,  and  then  thinks  she  is  safe  from 
the  hunter,  because  she  sees  him  not.  Sinner  !  God 
sees  thee  when  thou  dost  not  see  Him,  and  is  taking 
His  aim  at  thee.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(694.)  It  seemeth  an  easy  matter  to  a  felon  to 
think  of  his  crime,  while  he  is  not  apprehended, 
because  he  lives  in  hope  to  escape,  and  therefore  he 
can  laugh  when  he  talks  of  the  gallows ;  but  when 
he  comes  to  it,  the  case  is  altered.  Offenders  may 
escape  the  justice  of  men,  but  no  man  can  so  escape 
the  hand  of  God.  It  may  now  seem  a  small  and 
easy  matter  to  you  to  tkink  and  talk  of  unpardoned 
sin  ;  but  the  day  is  coming  when  you  would  give  all 
the  world  if  you  had  it  for  a  pardon,  as  light  as  you 
do  now  make  of  it.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(695.)  Verily,  sirs,  the  case  of  careless  sinners  is 
never  the  safer,  because  they  see  not,  and  fear  not 
the  danger.  A  man  in  a  consumption  or  dropsy  is 
never  the  further  from  death,  though  he  be  never 
so  confident  that  he  shall  not  die.  If  a  thief  at  the 
gallows  have  a  conceit  that  he  shall  escape,  that 
will  not  save  his  life.  — Baxter,  1615-1691.  " 

(696.)  We  are  either  lost  or  not  lost.  If  not,  by 
all  means  "  sleep  on  and  take  your  rest."  I  should 
be  sorry  to  disturb  you.  If  the  waves  dance  and 
play  round  your  ship  as  she  ploughs  through  a 
silver  sea  ;  if  gentle  zephyrs  fill  her  sails  ;  if  no 
sound  is  heard  but  the  song  of  the  watch  on  deck, 
and  the  gentle  dash  of  mimic  billows  as  they  break 
on  your  hows — lulling  to  slumber  and  happy  dreams; 
then,  happy  voyagers,  with  a  bright  moon  riding 
the  calm  heaven  above,  and  wide  sea-room  below, 
"sleep  on  and  take  your  rest."  Cut  if,  instead  of 
this,  a  shock  has  come  that  makes  your  bark  shiver 
from  stem  to  stern,  if  hurrying  feet  tread  the  deck 
overhead,  if  signal  guns  are  flashing  and  booming 
through  the  darkness,  if  the  rattling  cordage  tells 
that  they  lower  the  boats,  if  men,  pale  with  fear, 
rush  into  the  cabin  to  cry,  We  sink  ;  and  if,  when 
we  leap  from  bed  on  the  floor,  the  water,  rushing 
through  many  &  yawning   seam,  splashes  on  our 


naked  feet,  the  time  is  not  for  sleep — but  for  instant 
action,  and  such  cries  as  this',  "O  sirs,  what  shall  I 
do  to  be  saved  !  "  Who  can  miss  the  application  o{ 
this  to  our  condition  ?  With  that  curse  of  a  broken 
law  impending  over  us,  in  danger  of  perishing  every 
moment  so  long  as  we  are  out  of  Christ,  how  should 
we  cry,  Save  me,  I  perish  ;  and  give  immediate 
heed  to  the  call,  that  Christ,  seeing  our  danger, 
rises  from  His  throne  in  heaven  to  sound  down, 
"Lay  hold  of  eternal  life."  — Guthrie, 

3.  The  pitlableness  of  their  condition. 

(697.)  Of  all  men  out  of  hell,  ncme  more  to  be 
pitied  than  he  who  hangs  over  its  mouth,  and  yet 
is  without  fear.  What  good  does  physic  poured 
down  a  dead  man's  throat  ?  If  he  cannot  be  chafed 
to  some  sense  of  his  condition,  all  applications  are 
hopeless ;  and  if  sharp  aflliction,  which  is  the 
strongest  physic,  leaves  the  sinner  senseless,  tbere 
is  little  prospect  that  anything  else  will  do  him 
good.  —Giirnall,  1617-1679. 

(698. )  Oh  what  a  sight  is  it  to  see  a  man  go  merry 
and  laughing  towards  damnation,  and  make  a  jest 
of  his  own  undoing  !  to  see  him  at  the  brink  of  hell, 
and  will  not  believe  it  !  like  a  madman  boasting  of 
his  wit,  or  a  drunken  man  of  his  sobriety  ;  or  as  the 
swine  is  delighted  when  the  butcher  is  shaving  his 
throat  to  cut  it  ;  or,  as  the  fatted  lambs  are  skipping 
in  the  pasture,  that  to-morrow  must  be  killed  and 
eaten  ;  or,  as  the  bird  sits  singing  when  the  gun  is 
levelled  to  kill  him  ;  or,  as  the  greedy  fish  run  striv- 
ing which  shall  catch  the  bait,  that  must  presently 
be  snatched  out  of  their  element,  and  lie  dying  oa 
the  bank.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(699.)  The  devil  amuses  us  till  the  last  moment, 
as  a  poor  man  is  kept  amused  while  the  soldiers  are 
coming  to  take  him.  When  they  come,  he  cries 
and  struggles  in  vain,  for  they  will  not  release  hia^. 

—  Viamuy, 

4.  The  perllousness  of  their  position. 

(700.)  There  is  not  only  a  little  time  between  you 
and  judgment,  but  a  little  time  between  you  and 
execution,  nothing  but  the  slender  thread  of  a  frail 
life,  which  is  soon  fretted  asunder ;  and  will  you, 
can  you,  sleep  in  sin  so  near  eternity,  and  laugh 
and  dance  over  the  brink  of  hell  ?  You  cannot 
soon  enough  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come. 

— Alanton,  1620-1667. 

(701.)  When  thou  hast  had  but  a  few  more  merry 
hours,  and  but  a  few  more  pleasant  draughts  and 
morsels,  and  a  little  more  of  the  honours  and  riches 
of  the  world,  thy  portion  will  be  spent,  and  thy 
pleasures  ended,  and  all  is  then  gone  that  thou  set- 
test  thy  heart  upon  ;  of  all  that  thou  soldest  thy 
Saviour  and  salvation  for,  theie  is  nothing  leil  but 
the  heavy  reckoning.  As  a  thief  that  sits  merrily 
spending  the  money  in  an  alehouse  that  he  hath 
stolen,  when  men  are  riding  in  post-haste  to 
apprehend  him  ;  so  it  is  with  you  ;  while  you  are 
drowned  in  cares  or  fleshly  pleasures,  and  making 
merry  with  your  own  shame,  death  is  coming  in 
post-haste  to  seize  upon  you,  and  carry  your  souls 
to  such  a  place  and  state,  as  now  you  little  know  or 
think  of.  Suppose  when  you  aie  bold  and  busy  in 
your  sin,  that  a  messenger  were  but  coming  post 
from  London  to  apprehend  you,  and  take  away 
your  life  though  you  saw  him  not  :  yet  if  you  knew 
of  his  coming,  it  would  mar  your  mirth,  and  you 


CARELESS.  THE 


(     122     ) 


CHARACTER. 


would  be  thinking  of  the  haste  he  makes,  and 
hearkening  when  he  knocketh  at  your  door.  Oh, 
that  you  could  but  see  what  haste  death  makes, 
though  yet  it  hath  not  overtaken  you  !  No  post  so 
swifi  !  No  messenger  more  sure  !  As  ire  as  tlie 
sun  will  be  with  you  in  the  morning,  though  it  hath 
many  thousand  and  hundred  thousand  miles  to  go 
in  the  night ;  so  sure  will  death  be  quickly  with 
you,  and  then  where  is  your  sport  and  pleasure? 
— Baxter,  1 615- 169 1. 

(702.)  If  there  ever  was  a  mild  and  calm  teacher, 
it  was  Christ ;  and  yet,  when  one  asked  Him,  "Are 
there  few  that  be  saved?"  He  said,  "Strive  to 
enter  in  at  the  straight  gate  ;  for  many,  I  say  unto 
you,  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able." 
The  gate  was  built  for  entering,  it  was  designed 
expressly  for  that  purpose,  and  God  desires  that 
men  shall  enter,  and  has  made  arrangements  for  all 
to  enter  ;  and  yet,  He  saw  reasons  that  led  Him  to 
say,  calmly  and  affectionately,  but  plainly,  "Strive 
— a^otiise — to  enter  in  ;  for  many  will  seek  to  enter, 
and  shall  not  be  able." 

I  know  not  how  you  feel,  but  one  word  from  the 
lips  of  Christ  is  more  potent  with  me  than  all  the 
reasonings  of  philosophy.  I  believe  in  Him.  And, 
seeing  that  there  was  danger,  He  was  at  least  honest 
when  He  declared  that  the  circumstances  in  which 
men  lived  were  such  that  we  should  agonise — that 
is  to  say,  put  forth  every  effort — to  enter  eternal  life. 
When  Christ  speaks  thus,  I  know  that  there  is 
mischief  in  the  air  ;  I  know  that  there  is  peril  about  ; 
1  know  that  there  is  danger  which  may  well  ai  rest  the 
attention  and  call  out  the  utmost  skill  and  exertion  of 
man.  I  know  that  some  have  a  feeling  of  security  ; 
but  it  is  unwise,  it  is  fatal.  No  man  is  in  so  much 
danger  as  he  that  thinks  there  is  no  danger. 

Why,  when  the  bell  rings,  when  the  watchman 
rends  the  air  with  cries  of  "Fire!  fire t  fire!" 
when  in  every  direction  there  is  the  pattering  of  feet 
on  the  sidewalk,  and  when  the  engines  come  rattling 
up  to  the  burning  house,  one  after  another,  i^he  in- 
mates are  awakened,  and  they  rush  out ;  and  they 
are  safest  that  are  most  terrified,  and  that  suffer 
most  from  a  sense  of  danger.  One  only  remains 
behind.  He  hears  the  tumult,  but  it  weaves  itself 
into  the  shape  of  dreams  ;  and  he  seems  to  be  listen- 
ing to  some  parade ;  and  soon  the  sounds  begin  to 
be  indistinct  in  his  ear  ;  and  at  length  they  cease  to 
make  any  impression  upon  him.  During  all  this 
time  he  is  inhaling  the  deadly  gas  with  which  his 
apartment  has  become  filled,  gradually  his  senses 
are  benumbed,  and  finally  he  is  rendered  unconscious 
by  suffocation.  And,  in  the  midst  of  peril,  and  the 
thunder  of  excitement,  that  man  who  is  the  least 
awake,  and  the  least  frightened,  is  the  very  man 
that  is  the  most  likely  to  be  burned  up. 

— Beecher, 

(703.)  Some  years  since  a  vessel  lay  becalmed  on 
a  smooth  sea  in  the  vicinity  of  an  iceberg.  In  full 
view,  the  mountain  mass  of  frozen  splendour  rose 
before  the  passengers  of  the  vessel,  its  towers  and 
pinnacles  glittering  in  the  sunlight,  and  clothed  in 
the  enchanting  and  varied  colours  of  the  rainbow. 
A  party  on  board  the  vessel  resolved  to  climb  the 
steep  sides  of  the  iceberg,  and  spend  the  day  in  a  pic- 
nic on  the  summit.  The  novelty  and  attraction  of 
the  hazardous  enterprise  blinded  them  to  the  danger, 
and  they  left  the  vessel,  ascended  the  steep  mountain 
of  ice,  spread  their  ^ble  on  the  summit,  and  enjoyed 


their  dance  of  pleasure  on  the  surface  of  the  frosty 
marble.  Nothing  disturbed  their  security  or  marred 
tiieir  enjoyment.  Their  sport  was  finished  and  they 
made  their  way  down  to  the  water  level  and  em- 
barked. But  scarcely  had  they  reached  a  safe  distance 
before  the  loud  crash  of  the  crumbling  mass  was 
heard.  The  scene  of  their  gaiety  was  covered  with 
the  huge  fragments  of  the  falling  pinnacles,  anil  the 
giant  iceberg  rolled  over  with  a  shock  that  sent  a 
thrill  of  awe  and  terror  to  the  breast  of  every 
spectator.  Not  one  of  that  gay  party  could  ever 
be  induced  to  try  that  rash  experiment  again. 

But  what  is  this  world  with  all  its  brilliancy,  with 
all  its  hopes,  and  its  alluring  pleasures,  but  a  glitter- 
ing iceberg,  melting  slowly  away  ?  Its  false  splen- 
dour, enchanting  to  the  eye,  dissolves,  and  as  drop 
after  drop  trickles  down  its  sides,  or  steals  unseen 
through  its  hidden  pores,  its  very  foundations  are 
undermined,  and  the  steady  decay  prepares  for  a 
sudden  catastrophe.  Such  is  the  world  to  many 
who  dance  over  its  surface,  and  in  a  false  security 
forget  the  treacherous  footing  on  which  they  stand. 
But  can  any  one  who  knows  what  it  is,  avoid  feeling 
that  every  moment  is  pregnant  with  danger,  and 
that  the  final  catastrophe  is  hastening  on  ? 

Is  it  in  a  merely  fanciful  alarm  that  we  warn  you 
to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  that  we  tell  you  tl.at 
every  moment  of  life  is  full  of  the  deepest  so.cmnicy, 
and  that  we  admonish  you  of  the  treacherous  char- 
acter of  hopes  that  glitter  like  the  pinnacles  of  the 
iceberg  in  the  sunlight,  which  a  moment  may  crumble 
to  ruined  fragments,  strewn  over  your  grave  ?  If  it 
is  solemn  to  die,  is  it  not  solemn  to  live,  when  any 
moment  may  be  the  door  through  which  you  may 
pass  into  eternity  ?  What  are  all  the  objects  upon 
which  you  rely — health,  strength,  youthful  vigour — 
but  the  frozen  marble  beneath  your  feet,  that  may 
yield  in  an  hour,  when  you  dream  not,  and  leave 
you  to  sink  in  a  river,  which  no  plummet  can  fathom  ? 
Could  you  be  so  secure,  so  heedless  of  warning,  if 
you  realised  your  true  condition  ? 


CHARACTER. 

I.    DISPOSITlOtr. 

1.  Differences  of  character: 

(704.)  There  are  differences  of  character  which, 
springing  from  constitutional  peculiarities,  or  early 
education,  grace  will  modify,  but  never  altogether 
eradicate  on  this  side  the  grave.  Such  are  those  in 
Bunyan's  pictures,  all  painied,  no  doubt,  from  life 
— as  well  Mr.  Great-heart  the  giant-killer  and  hero 
of  a  hundred  battles,  as  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  who 
started  at  his  own  shadow  and  trembled  at  the 
falling  of  a  le*f.  There  are  also  difi'erences  among 
Christians  which  imply  no  defect  ;  just  as  there  are 
in  countenances  which  are  very  unlike,  and  yet,  be 
the  complexion  dark  or  fair,  the  hair  of  golden 
colour  or  like  the  raven's  wing,  are  very  beautiful. 
We  do  not  exjiect  or  even  wish  all  good  men  to  be 
alike,  any  more  than  I  would  have  all  the  members 
of  a  family  alike;  all  flowers  alike — none  but  roses 
in  the  garden,  or  daisies  in  the  field  ;  the  Church  of 
Christ  like  the  meadows  below,  or  the  star-spangled 
heavens  above,  owing  its  beauty  in  part  to  that 
variety  in  unity  which  marks  all  the  works  of  God, 
and  mars  none  of  them.  — Guthrie. 


CHARACTER, 


(     "3    ) 


CHARACTER. 


S.  To  what  extent  we  are  responsible  for  It. 

(705.)  As  to  constitution — look  at  Martin  Luther  : 
we  may  see  the  man  every  day  ;  his  eyes,  and  nose, 
and  mouth  attest  his  character.  Look  at  Melanc- 
thon  :  he  is  like  a  snail  with  his  couple  of  horns  ; 
he  puts  out  his  horn  and  feels — and  feels — and  feels. 
No  education  could  have  rendered  these  two  men 
aiil^e.  Their  difiereiue  began  in  the  womb.  Luther 
dashes  in  saying  his  things  ;  Melancthon  must  go 
round  about  —he  must  consider  what  the  Greek 
says,  and  wl  at  the  Syriac  says.  Some  men  are 
\)orn  minute  men — lexicographers — of  a  German 
character  :  they  will  hunt  through  libraries  to  rectify 
a  syllable.  Other  men  are  born  keen  as  a  razor  ; 
they  have  a  sharp,  severe,  strong  acumen  ;  they  cut 
everything  to  pieces  ;  their  minds  are  like  a  case  of 
instruments ;  touch  which  you  will,  it  wounds ; 
they  crucify  a  modest  man.  Such  men  should  aim 
at  a  right  knowledge  of  character.  If  they  attained 
this,  they  would  find  out  the  sin  that  easily  besets 
them.  The  greater  the  capacity  of  such  men,  the 
greater  their  cruelty.  They  ought  to  blunt  their 
instruments  ;  they  ought  to  keep  them  in  a  case. 
Other  men  are  ambitious — fond  of  power  :  pride 
and  power  give  a  velocity  to  their  motions.  Others 
are  born  with  a  quiet,  retiring  mind.  Some  are 
naturally  fierce,  and  others  naturally  mild  and  plac- 
able. Men  often  take  to  themselves  great  credit  for 
what  they  owe  entirely  to  nature.  If  we  would  judge 
rightly,  we  should  see  that  narrowness  or  exjiansion 
of  mind,  niggardliness  or  generosity,  delicacy  or 
boldness,  have  less  of  merit  or  demerit  than  we 
commonly  assign  to  them.       — Ctcil,  1748-18 10. 

(706.)  Nature  seems  to  treat  man  as  a  painter 
would  his  disciple,  to  whom  he  commits  the  out- 
lines of  a  figure  highly  sketched,  which  the  scholar 
for  himself  is  to  colour  and  complete.  Thus  from 
nature  we  derive  senses  and  passions,  and  an 
intellect  which  each  of  us  for  himself  has  to  model 
into  a  character.  — Harris. 

(707.)  Neither  the  vices  nor  the  virtues  of  man 
are  his  nature  ;  to  praise  or  to  blame  him  is  not  to 
know  him  ;  approbation  or  disapprobation  does  not 
define  him  ;  the  names  of  good  or  bad  tell  us  no- 
thing of  what  he  is.  Put  the  robber  Cartouche  in 
an  Italian  court  of  the  fifteenth  century;  he  would 
be  a  great  statesman.  Transport  this  nobleman, 
stingy  and  narrow-minded,  into  a  shop ;  he  will  be 
an  exemplary  tradesman.  This  public  man,  of  in- 
flexible probity,  is  in  his  drawing-room  an  intoler- 
able coxcomb.  This  father  of  a  family,  so  humane, 
is  an  idiotic  politician.  Change  a  virtue  in  its 
circumstances,  and  it  becomes  a  vice  ;  change  a  vice 
in  its  circumstances,  and  it  becomes  a  virtue.  Re- 
gard the  same  quality  from  two  sides  ;  on  one  it  is 
a  fault,  on  the  other  a  merit.  The  essential  of  a 
man  is  found  concealed  far  below  these  moral 
badges.  A  character  is  a  force,  like  gravity,  weight, 
or  steam,  capable,  as  it  may  happen,  of  pernicious 
or  profitable  effects,  and  which  must  be  defined 
otherwise  than  by  the  amount  of  weight  it  can  lift 
or  the  havoc  it  can  cause.  It  is  therefore  to  ignore 
man,  to  reduce  him  to  an  aggregate  of  virtues  and 
vices ;  it  is  to  lose  sight  in  him  of  all  but  the 
exterior  and  social  side  :  it  is  to  neglect  the  inner 
and  natural  element.  — Taitie. 

(708.)  We  receive  our  minds  from  our  birth,  just 
as  we  do  our  bodies  ;  and  we  are  no  more  respon- 
sible for  th '.  proportions  of  the  on.';  than  we  are  for 


the  proportions  of  the  other.  But  as  a  man,  though 
not  responsible  for  weakness,  or  deformity,  or  short- 
ness, or  length,  or  uncouthness  of  limbs,  is  respon- 
sible for  the  use  to  which  he  puts  those  limbs,  what- 
ever they  may  be,  good  or  bad,  and  is  responsible 
for  the  training  they  receive  ;  so,  though  a  man  is 
not  responsible  for  the  conditions  and  proportions 
of  his  mind,  he  is  responsible  for  the  training  which 
he  gives  it — for  the  restraint  of  some  of  its  parts, 
and  the  development  of  other  of  its  parts,  and  the 
right  carriage  of  the  whole.  — Beecher, 

8.  How  It  Is  fonned. 

(709.)  Character  is  consolidated  habit,  and  habit 
forms  itself  by  repeated  action.  Habits  are  like 
paths  beaten  hard  by  the  multitude  of  light  footsteps 
which  go  to  and  fro.  The  daily  restraint  or  indul- 
gence of  the  nature,  in  the  business,  in  the  home,  in 
the  imagination,  which  is  the  inner  laboratory  of  the 
life,  creates  the  character  which,  whether  it  be  here 
or  there,  settles  the  destiny. 

— y.  Baldivin  Brown. 

(710.)  Amongst  the  mountains  bordering  on  our 
northern  lakes,  a  few  years  back  a  mighty  cave  was 
discovered,  consisting  of  fretted  halls,  long  corridors 
and  aisles,  their  roofs  gemmed  with  pendant  stalag- 
mites, which  have  grown  up  into  monster  mounds 
of  fantastic  shapes,  as  during  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  years  in  those  untrodden  cavernous  retreats, 
the  water,  charged  with  carbonate  of  lime,  has,  drop 
by  drop,  formed  their  shapes,  white,  like  ivory  !  I 
have  watched  the  water  falling  on  them,  or  in  the 
finest  sheet  of  liquid  waving  over  their  crests.  To 
the  eye  it  seems  marvellous  that  such  mounds  of 
adamantine  quality  could  have  grown  from  the  pass- 
ing touch  of  that  element ;  but  Nature,  while  dis- 
playing her  cunning,  and  exhibiting  her  process  to 
the  beholder,  shows  him  what  mighty  strata  the 
almost  imperceptible  flow  of  water  builds  up  in 
course  of  time  ;  and  (what  is  most  to  our  purpose) 
shows  likewise,  in  the  economy  of  her  constructive- 
ness,  that  every  single  drop,  and  every  successive 
wave  of  liquid,  though  finer  than  tissue  paper,  must 
have  made  its  deposit,  and  left  its  influence  upon 
the  rocky  structure.  Exactly  so  is  it  with  our 
minds.  Every  influence,  the  simple,  transient, 
trilling  sights  and  sounds  which  seem  almost  too 
slight  to  arrest  observation,  and  are  so  immaterial 
that  they  escape  our  memory,  nevertheless  (like  the 
water  over  the  stalactite)  have  passed  over  the  sur- 
face of  observation  and  thought,  and  have  added 
their  quota  in  the  construction  of  our  character. 
—J.  C.  M.  Bellew. 

(711.)  Do  you  know  what  that  silent  work  is 
which  is  going  on  in  you  ?  O  builder  !  do  you  ever 
think  of  all  the  structures  that  are  going  up  in  these 
great  cities?  There  are  none  that  are  building  so 
fast  and  with  so  many  hands  as  that  structure  of 
which  you  are  the  subject. 

We  read  in  fairy  tales  of  how  great  chasms  have 
been  bridged  over  in  a  night  by  benevolent  si)irits, 
dwarfs,  ouphes,  and  what  not  ;  how  they  hustled 
together  vast  rocks,  and  piled  c)ne  upon  another, 
and  built  piers,  and  spanned  them  with  arche.".,  so 
that  the  brave  knight  could  pass  over  them,  and 
reach  the  castle,  and  get  his  iady-love.  We  read  in 
fairy  tales  of  how  cities  have  been  built  in  a  single 
night ;  and  we  imagine  to  ourselves  how,  when  we 
sleep,  ten  million  constructing  ligures  might  carry 


CHARACTER. 


(     124    ) 


CHARACTER. 


op  the  walls,  and  surmount  them  with  golden 
domes,  and  how  whole  cities  might  stand  in  the 
morning  where  the  night  before  there  was  only  a 
wilderness.  Ihit  there  is  something  more  strange 
actually  going  on  in  you.  There  is  not  a  thought 
that  is  not  striking  a  blow  ;  there  is  not  an  impulse 
that  is  not  doing  mason  work  ;  there  is  not  a  passion 
thrust  this  way  or  that  way  that  is  not  a  workman's 
thrust.  The  imagination  in  all  directions  is  build- 
ing. You  think  that  you  are  throwing  out  the  net 
for  game  ;  you  think  that  you  are  laying  plans  for 
accomplishment  ;  but  back  of  all  the  conscious 
work  that  is  going  on  in  you,  back  of  your  visible 
attainments,  there  is  another  work  going  on.  There 
are  as  many  master-workmen  in  you  as  there  are 
separate  faculties ;  and  there  are  as  many  blows 
being  struck  as  there  are  separate  acts  of  emotion  or 
volition.  And  this  work  is  going  on  perpetually. 
Every  single  day  these  myriad  forces  are  building, 
building,  building.  Here  is  a  great  structure  going 
up  point  by  point,  story  by  story,  although  you  are 
not  conscious  of  it.  It  is  a  building  of  character. 
It  is  a  building  that  is  to  stand.  And  the  word  of 
inspiration  warns  you  to  take  heed  how  you  build  it  ; 
to  see  to  it  that  you  have  a  foundation  that  shall 
endure  ;  to  make  sure  that  you  are  building  on  it, 
not  for  the  hour  in  which  you  live,  but  for  that  hour 
of  revelation,  that  hour  of  testing,  when  that  which 
hath  been  done  shall  be  brought  out,  and  you  shall 
be  seen  just  as  your  are.  — Beecher. 

4.  Ho^w  it  Is  to  be  Judged. 

(712.)  As  a  man  loveth,  so  he  is  ;  for  the  lover  is 
in  the  thing  loved  more  properly  than  in  himself: 
wherefore,  if  a  man  love  earthly  things,  he  may 
be  called  an  earthly  man  ;  but  if  he  love  heavenly 
things  or  God,  he  may  be  called  an  heavenly  or  a 
godly  man.  — CoUt,  1444-15 19. 

{713.)  Actions,  looks,  words,  steps,  form  the 
alphabet  by  which  you  may  spell  characters. 

— Lava/er,  1741-180I. 

(714.)  As  daylight  can  be  seen  through  very  small 
holes,  so  little  things  will  illustrate  a  person's  char- 
acter. 

(715.)  We  must  not  form  our  opinion  of  men  as 
of  a  picture  or  a  piece  of  sculpture,  by  one  view  ; 
there  is  an  inward  depth  and  a  heart,  which  we 
must  fathom ;  the  veil  of  modesty  hangs  over 
merit,  antl  the  mask  of  hypocrisy  conceals  malignity. 
There  are  only  a  small  number  of  judges  able  to 
distinguish  what  is  real,  and  who  have  a  right  to 
give  an  opinion.  It  is  only  little  by  little,  and 
when  laid  bare  by  times  and  opportunities,  that 
perfect  virtue  and  consummate  vice  at  last  show 
themselves  in  their  true  colours. 

— La  Briiyh't,  1 646- 1 696. 

(716.)  The  reflection  of  other  men's  good-will 
toward  us  we  use  more  than  anything  else  to 
estimate  our  characters  by.  Those  wlio  do  this  are 
like  buoys  that  are  always  on  the  surface  of  the 
water,  but  that  move  with  it  as  it  rises  and  falls 
with  the  ocean-tides.  We  lie  like  floats  on  the 
world-tide,  which  goes  in  and  out,  and  up  and 
down  ;  and  we  have  no  gauge  on  the  shore  to  show 
what  is  our  absolute  condition.  It  is  merely  relative 
to  the  fluctuations  of  the  ever-sh.'fting,  ever-changing 
tide  of  human  feeling.  — Beecher, 


(717.)  Find  what  the  magnet  is  that  draws  each 
one  on,  and  you  have  discovered  his  character. 
His  supreme  desire  fixes  his  value.  To  know  what 
he  seeks  is  to  know  what  manner  of  man  he  is, 
better  than  by  knowing  in  what  way  he  seeks  it  : 
just  as  you  can  judge  a  traveller's  destination  better 
by  seeing  which  way  his  face  is  set,  than  by  observ* 
ing^iis  mode  of  conveyance. 

— F.  D.  Huntington 

(718.)  I  have  generally  found  that  a  man  is  not 
much  better  than  he  looks,  and  if  a  man's  outward 
life  is  not  right,  I  shall  not  feel  bound  to  believe 
that  his  inward  life  is  acceptable  to  God.  "Ah, 
sir,"  said  one  in  Rowland  Mill's  time,  "he  is  not 
exactly  what  1  should  like,  hut  he  has  a  good  heart 
at  bottom."  The  shrewd  old  preacher  replied, 
"When  you  go  to  the  market  and  buy  fruit,  and 
there  are  none  but  rotten  apples  on  the  top  of  the 
basket,  you  say  to  the  market  woman,  '  These  are  a 
very  bad  lot.'  Now,  if  the  woman  replied,  '  Yes,  they 
are  rather  gone  at  top,  sir,  but  they  are  better  as  you 
go  down,'  you  would  not  be  so  silly  as  to  believe 
her,  but  would  say,  '  No,  no,  the  lower  we  go,  the 
worse  they  will  be,  for  the  best  are  always  put  on 
the  top.'"  And  soil  is  with  mens  characters;  if 
they  cannot  be  decent,  sober,  and  truthful  in  their 
daily  life,  their  inner  parts  are  more  abominable 
still ;  the  deeper  you  pry  into  their  secrets  the  worse 
will  be  the  report.  — Spiirgeon. 

6.  The  most  powerful  of  all  moral  Influences. 

(719.)  It  is  very  difficult  to  persuade  men  that  it 
is  so,  because  they  have  the  idea  that  there  is  only 
power  where  there  is  noise,  bustle,  and  excitement. 
But  it  is  really  not  so.  All  the  forces  in  nature  that 
are  the  most  powerful,  are  the  most  quiet.  We 
speak  of  the  rolling  thunder  as  powerful  ;  but 
gravitation,  which  makes  no  noise,  is  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  times  more  powerful.  We  say 
the  red  lightning  is  very  powerful ;  so  it  is,  when  it 
rends  the  gnarled  oak  into  splinters,  or  splits  the 
solid  battlements  into  fragments  ;  but  it  is  not  half 
so  powerful  as  that  gentle  light,  that  comes  so  softly 
from  the  skies,  that  we  do  not  feel  it,  that  travels 
with  inconceivable  speed,  strikes,  and  yet  is  not  felt. 
The  things  that  are  most  noisy  are  not  the  most 
powerful.  An  eloquent  speech  will  never  have  the 
effect  of  an  eloquent  life.  The  most  conclusive 
logic  that  a  preacher  uses  in  the  pul])it,  will  never 
exercise  the  effect  that  the  piety,  the  consistent 
piety  of  character,  will  exercise  all  over  the  world. 
The  preacher  who  may  have  few  to  hear  him,  and 
who  has  not  the  power  of  expressing  clearly  and 
intelligibly  the  great  thoughts  that  he  feels,  in  his 
walks  amid  his  flock,  by  his  beautiful  and  holy 
character,  may  be  spreading  an  influence  around 
him  that  will  tell  more  upon  the  destinies  of  souls 
than  if  he  had  wielded  all  the  thuntleis  of  Demos- 
thenes, or  pleaded  with  the  persuasive  eloquence  of 
Cicero.  It  is  not  what  we  intend  to  do  that  strikes 
the  most,  it  is  what  we  are.  — Ciimining. 

6.  Its  transcendent  Importance. 

(720.)  What  does  a  man  take  with  him  whes 
from  the  extreme  verge  of  life  he  launches  into 
what  lies  beyond  ?  It  looks  as  if  he  took  nothing. 
Death  seems  to  pass  a  sponge  over  all  that  has  gone 
before.  Be  it  the  end,  or  be  it  a  new  beginning, 
it  seems  a  total  breaking  off  from  all  that  life  bay 


CHARACTER. 


(     125     )        CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN 


hJtlierto  consisted  in.  That  is  what  makes  it 
terrible. 

But,  if  we  look  at  it  truly,  his  past  life  is  just  the 
one  thing  that  a  man  does  take  with  him  when  he 
dies.  He  takes  himself.  And  that  self  is  the  pro- 
duct of  all  his  past  experiences  and  actions.  As  an 
oak  bears  in  itself  the  results  of  every  shower  that 
through  long  years  has  freshened  it,  of  every  gale 
that  has  toughened  it  or  stripped  its  boughs,  of  the 
sunshine  that  has  fed  it,  and  the  drought  that  has 
parched  it ;  so  a  man,  when  he  stands  at  the  end 
of  life,  is  what  he  has  been  made  by  all  his  joys, 
and  sufferings,  and  actions.  That  is  what  he  takes 
into  the  other  world — his  own  character. 

The  life  to  come  and  the  life  that  now  is  are  parts 
of  one  another.  They  are  related  just  as  youth  and 
manhood  are  related.  The  man  is  not  the  same 
that  the  boy  was,  but  what  the  boy  was  entered  into 
the  man  as  a  part  of  him.  The  strength  I  gain  by 
my  victories  this  year,  and  the  weakness  into  which 
I  come  by  defeat,  will  be  a  part  of  me  next  year. 
So,  there  is  not  an  act,  not  a  word  or  thought,  but 
casts  its  influence  forward  into  the  to-morrow  that 
lies  beyond  death. 

The  whole  teaching  of  the  Bible  as  to  the  future 
life  centres  on  this — that  what  we  are  now  is 
supremely  important  with  reference  to  what  we 
ijhall  be  then.  Every  warning,  every  encourage- 
ment, all  the  grand  and  terrible  imagery  of  the 
Judgment,  all  the  tender  assurances  of  Christ,  are 
directed  to  that  end.  The  object  of  them  all  is  to 
impress  the  transcendent  importance  of  character. 
Language  and  thought  are  tasked  to  the  utmost  to 
express  this.  Visions  of  woe  unspeakable,  of  joy 
inefiable,  are  used  to  picture  the  results  of  well- 
doing and  evil-doing ;  to  show  that  they  radiate 
into  eternity,  and  are  immeasurable.  And  we  have 
no  right  to  break  the  force  of  this  teaching  by  the 
assumption  that  one  of  two  grand  results  is  possible, 
and  that,  so  a  man  is  saved  at  last,  his  misdeeds 
will  hurt  him  little.  That  is  neither  according  to 
Scripture  nor  moral  reason.  He  that  is  only  right- 
»»ous  is  to  be  "righteous  still ;"  he  that  is  holy,  to 
be  "holy  still."  Accoiding  as  a  man  has  attamed 
in  this  stage,  so  is  his  beginning  in  the  next.  He 
must  commence  there  according  as  he  has  finished 
here,  on  a  high  plane  or  a  low  one.       — Beecher. 

II.    REPUTATION. 

(721.)  Your  success  is  very  much  connected  tvUh 
your  personal  character.  Herod  "  heard  John 
gladly,"  and  he  "did  many  things,"  because  he 
knew  the  preacher  to  be  a  just  and  holy  man. 
Words  uttered  from  the  heart  find  their  way  to  the 
heart  by  a  holy  sympathy.  Character  is  power. 
—  Cecil,  174S-1810. 

(722.)  A  young  man  had  volunteered,  and  was 
expecting  daily  to  be  ordered  to  the  seat  of  war. 
One  day  his  mother  gave  him  an  unpaid  bill  with 
money,  and  asked  him  to  pay  it.  When  he  returned 
home  at  night  she  said,  "Did  you  pay  that  bill." 
"  Y<s,"  he  answered.  In  a  few  days  the  bill  was 
sent  in  a  second  time.  "I  thought,"  she  said  to 
her  son,  "  that  you  paid  this."  "  I  really  don't 
remember,  mother ;  you  know  I've  had  so  many 
things  on  my  mind."  "But  you  said  you  did." 
"Well,"  he  answered,  "if  I  said  I  did,  I  did." 
He  went  away,  arid  his  mother  took  the  bill  herself 
to  the  shop.     The  young  man  had  been  in  the  town 


all  his  life,  and  what  opinion  w.is  held  of  him  this 
will  show.  "  I  am  quite  sure,"  she  said,  "  that  my 
son  paid  this  some  days  ago  ;  he  has  been  very  busy 
since,  and  has  quite  forgotten  about  it  ;  but  he  toid 
me  that  day  he  had,  and  says  if  he  said  then  that  he 
had,  he  is  quite  sure  he  did."  "Well,"  said  the 
man,  "  I  forget  about  it ;  but  if  he  ever  said  he 
did,  he  did."  Wasn't  that  a  grand  character  d- 
have  ? 


CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN 

1.  Its  preclousness. 

(723.)  There  are  things  precious,  not  from  the 
materials  of  which  they  are  made,  but  from  the  risk 
and  difficulty  of  bringing  them  to  perfection.  The 
speculum  of  the  largest  telescope  foils  the  optician's 
skill  in  casting.  Too  much  or  two  little  heat — the 
interposition  of  a  grain  of  sand,  a  slight  alteration 
in  the  temperature  of  the  weather,  and  all  goes  to 
pieces — it  must  be  recast.  Therefore,  when  success- 
fully finished,  it  is  a  matter  for  almost  the  congratula- 
tion of  a  country.  Rarer,  and  more  difficult  still 
than  the  costliest  part  of  the  most  delicate  of  instru- 
ments, is  the  completion  of  Christian  character. 
— F.  iV.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(724.)  There  are  sometimes  rare  and  beautiful 
wares  brought  into  the  market  that  are  invoiced  at 
almost  fabulous  rates.  Ignorant  people  wonder 
why  they  are  priced  so  high.  The  simple  reason 
is  that  they  cost  so  much  to  procure.  That  luxurious 
article  labelled  ;!^200  was  procured  by  the  adven- 
turous hunter,  who,  at  the  hazard  of  his  neck,  brought 
down  the  wild  mountain-goat,  out  of  whose  glossy 
hair  the  fabric  was  wrought.  Yonder  pearl  that 
flashes  on  the  brow  of  the  bride  is  precious,  because 
it  was  rescued  from  the  great  deep  at  the  risk  of  the 
pearl-fisher's  life,  as  he  was  lifted  into  the  boat  half- 
dead,  with  the  blood  gushing  from  his  nostrils. 
Yonder  ermine,  flung  so  carelessly  over  the  proud 
beauty's  shoulder,  cost  terrible  battles  with  Polar 
Ice  and  hurricane. 

And  so  is  it  that  the  best  part  of  a  Christian 
character  is  that  which  was  pirocured  at  the  sorest 
cost.  Patience  is  a  beautiful  trait,  but  it  is  not  worn 
oftenest  by  those  who  walk  on  life's  sunny  side  in 
silver  slippers.  It  is  the  product  of  dark  nights  ol 
tempest,  and  of  those  days  of  adversity  whose  high 
noon  is  but  a  midnight.  For  "the  trial  of  your 
faith  worketh  patience."  Purity  of  soul  is  like 
purity  in  gold,  where  the  hottest  fires  turn  out  tiie 
most  refined  and  precious  metals  from  the  crucible. 
Joseph  found  his  crucible  in  an  ligyptian  prison  ; 
but  he  came  out  thence  with  the  soul  of  a  virgin. 
Purity  of  character  is  often  bought  in  this  wicked 
city  by  the  bitter  price  of  a  crust  of  bread  eaten  with 
a  good  conscience  in  an  attic ;  when  a  guilty  con- 
nivance would  have  been  rewarded  with  Frencb 
satins  and  a  harlot's  sumptuous  couch. 

—  Cttyler. 

2.  How  It  Is  formed. 

(725.)  Did  you  ever  see  a  sculptor  make  a  statuette 
or  statue?  He  begins  with  dirt,  you  know.  He 
has  a  few  rude  sticks  for  a  frame  ;  and  then  he  puts 
on  the  clay.  When  it  is  properly  tempered,  lie 
roughs  out  the  general  form.  Then  he  begins  to 
scrape  off  the  plaster.  Then  he  works  for  symmetry, 
and  lines,  and  grace,  and  proportions.  Then  he 
works  for  resemblances.  And  at  last,  as  the  work 
is  becoming  consummated,  he   puts  on  the  finest 


CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN        (     126 


CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN 


touches.  And  all  the  way  through  it  is  dirt,  dirt, 
dirt !  But  this  is  not  half  so  dirty  as  bringing  up 
men  in  this  world  of  temptation  and  passion,  where 
all  their  desires  are  overflowing  lil<e  a  flood.  Yet, 
as  the  sculptor  goes  on  working  thus  with  this  life- 
less material,  to  bring  out  at  last  the  finest  lines  and 
lineaments,  that  the  model,  when  completed,  may 
be  transmuted  into  the  glowing  marble,  or  bronze, 
or  silver,  or  gold,  as  the  case  may  be — so  God  is 
dealing  with  us ;  so  He  is  building  us  up  :  He  is 
taking  off  and  putting  on,  that  after  a  while,  when 
the  work  is  completed,  we  may  be  transmuted  into 
higher  forms,  and  be  as  pillars  in  the  temple  of  our 
God,  and  become  men  in  Christ  Jesus  glowing  with 
all  the  light  of  blessedness  and  immortality. 

— Beecher, 

(726.)  It  is  not  great,  or  special,  or  extraordinary 
experiences  which  constitute  in  the  best  sense  the 
"religious  character."  It  is  the  uniform  daily  walk 
with  God  ;  serving  Him  in  little  things  as  well  as 
great  things  ; — in  the  ordinary  duties  and  everyday 
avocations,  as  well  as  in  the  midst  of  grave  and 
eventful  contingencies.  As  the  sublimest  symphony 
is  made  up  of  separate  single  notes  ;  as  the  wealth 
of  the  cornfield  is  made  up  of  separate  stalks,  or 
rather  of  separate  grains  ;  as  the  magnificent  texture, 
with  its  gorgeous  combinations  of  colour,  its  pictures 
cunningly  interweaved  by  the  hand  or  the  shuttle, 
is  made  up  of  individual  threads ;  as  the  mightiest 
avalanche  that  ever  came  thundering  down  from  its 
Alpine  throne,  uprooting  villages  and  forests,  is 
made  up  of  tiny  snow-fiakes  ;  so  it  is  with  the 
spiritual  life.  That  life  is  itself  the  grandest  illus- 
tration of  the  power  of  littles.  Character  is  th  pro- 
duct of  daily,  hourly  actions,  and  words,  and 
thoughts ;  daily  forgivenesses,  unselfishness,  kind- 
nesses, sympathies,  charities,  sacrifices  for  the  good 
of  others,  struggles  against  temptation,  submissive- 
ness  under  trial.  Oh,  it  is  these,  like  the  blending 
colours  in  a  picture,  or  the  blending  notes  of  music, 
which  constitute  "  the  man  1 "  — Alacditff. 

8.  HuBt  be  positive. 

(727.)  He  is  not  half  a  saint  who  is  but  a  nega- 
tiye  saint.  The  forbearance  of  gross  corruptions  is 
the  easiest  and  least  part  of  religion,  and  therefore 
will  not  speak  any  man  in  a  state  of  salvation.  The 
tree  that  is  barren  and  without  good  fruit  is  for  the 
fire,  as  vrell  as  the  tree  that  brings  forth  evil  fruit. 

For  men  to  think  to  excuse  themselves  that  they 
do  no  hurt,  wrong  neither  man,  woman,  or  child, 
and  are  not,  as  the  Pharisee  said,  as  the  publicans, 
who  generally  were  oppressors,  is  but  a  vain,  foolish 
t'hing.  The  idle  servant  might  have  said,  "  Lord, 
I  did  no  harm  with  my  talent;  I  did  not  lay  it  out 
in  rioting  and  drunkenness,  or  any  way  to  Thy  dis- 
honour ;  I  only  hid  it,  and  did  not  improve  it,"  — 
yet  this  was  enough  to  condemn  him.  Can  we  call 
ground  good  ground  for  bearing  no  weeds,  if  it 
never  bring  forth  good  corn  ?  Or  do  we  count  that 
servant  a  good  servant  who  doth  not  wrong  his 
master  in  his  estate  by  purloining  or  wasting  it,  if 
he  live  idle  all  day,  and  neglect  the  business  his 
master  appoints  him  ?  — Swiniwck,  1673. 

(728.)  Reader,  believe  it,  though  thou  mayest 
live  by  a  ne.L^ative  religion,  yet  thou  canst  not  die 
by  it,  much  less  stand  before  the  judgment  seat  of 
Christ  with  it.  It  is  true,  even  such  a  religion  is  of 
high  price  with  men  :  but  if  alone,  it  is  abomination 


in  the  sight  of  God.  Reader,  let  me  reason  the 
case  with  thee.  In  other  things  all  are  for  fruitful- 
ness  in  what  is  good.  The  husbandman  would  have 
his  ground  fruitful  in  good  corn,  as  well  as  empty  erf 
weeds.  He  would  have  his  cattle  labour,  and  do 
him  service,  and  thinks  it  not  enough  that  they  are 
in  the  stable  or  fields,  and  do  him  no  hurt.  The 
master  would  have  his  servant  industrious  in  his 
shop  or  field,  or  some  way  or  other  about  his  busi- 
ness, and  is  not  pleased  to  see  him  sit  still  all  day, 
and  forbear  to  purloin  his  goods,  or  fight  with  his 
fellow-servants.  The  father  who  sends  his  child  to 
school  would  have  him  learn  the  languages,  and  profit 
daily  therein,  and  without  this  will  not  be  satisfied 
to  hear  that  his  child  sits  still  all  day  at  school, 
learns  no  oaths  or  blasphemies,  calls  no  names, 
abuses  none  of  his  companions.  And,  reader,  why 
should  God  be  contented  with  thy  harmlessness, 
when  thou  art  barren  and  unprofitable?  Hath  not 
God  as  much  right  to  thee  as  thou  hast  to  thy 
ground  or  cattle  ?  and  art  not  thou  as  much  bound  to 
God  as  thy  servant  or  child  is  bound  to  thee?  and 
why,  then,  shouldst  thou  think  to  put  God  off  with 
that  in  thyself,  which  thou  wilt  not  be  put  off  with 
in  thy  ground,  or  cattle,  or  servant,  or  child  ? 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(729.)  Christianity  ends  not  in  negatives.  No 
man  clears  his  garden  of  weeds,  but  in  order  to  the 
planting  of  flowers  or  useful  herbs  in  their  room. 
God  calls  upon  us  to  dispossess  our  corruptions,  but 
it  is  for  the  reception  of  new  inhabitants.  A  room 
may  be  clean,  and  yet  empty  ;  but  it  is  not  enough 
that  our  hearts  be  swept,  unless  they  be  also  gar- 
nished ;  or  that  we  lay  aside  our  pride,  our  luxury, 
our  covetousness,  unless  humility,  temperance,  and 
liberality,  rise  up  and  shine  in  their  places.  The 
design  of  religion  would  be  very  poor  and  short, 
should  it  look  no  further  than  only  to  keep  men 
from  being  swine,  and  goats,  and  tigers,  without 
improving  the  principles  of  humanity  into  positive 
and  higher  perfections.  The  soul  may  be  cleansed 
from  all  blots,  and  yet  still  be  left  but  a  blank. 

But  Christianity  that  is  of  a  thriving,  aspiring 
nature,  requires  to  proceed  from  grace  to  grace  ;  to 
"  virtue  adding  patience,  to  patience  temperance,  to 
temperance  meekness,  to  meekness  brotherly  kind- 
ness," and  the  like  ;  thus  ascending  by  degrees,  till 
at  length  the  top  of  the  ladder  reaches  hea\en,  and 
conveys  the  soul  so  qualified  into  the  mansions  of 
glory.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(730.)  In  galleries  of  art  we  not  uncommonly 
notice  statues  which  seem  to  be  carved  in  very  exact 
measurement,  and  yet  are  thoroughly  disappointing. 
There  is  an  absence  of  strength,  muscle,  and  vigour; 
and  then  we  look  at  some  bold  effort  of  genius 
where  a  fault  is  conspicuous,  and  yet  there  is  so 
much  nerve  and  power  and  effect  developed  in  tlii 
rest  of  the  sculpture,  that  we  are  charmed  with  its 
excellencies,  and  forget  the  blemish  in  the  presence 
of  so  many  recommendations.  It  is  very  luucli  the 
same  in  character  :  a  tame,  powerless,  unemphaLi( 
character  is  singularly  uninteresting.        — Bcllew, 

4.  Should  he  conspicuous  for  truth  and  honour. 

(731.)  These  qualities  of  truth  and  honour,  which 
the  world  appreciates  and  admires,  and  which  the 
Bible  recognises  and  commends,  constitute  one  ol 
the  developments  of  a  Christian  character.     If  you 


CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN        (     127    )        CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN 


have  these  qualities,  men,  after  they  have  associated 
with  you  for  years,  will  bear  this  testimony  respect- 
ing you  :  "He  is  like  a  glass  bee-hive.  You  can 
always  see  what  his  motives  are.  He  is  full  of 
honey.  The  more  you  know  him,  the  better  you 
will  like  him.  He  is  true  and  honourable."  But 
there  are  men  who  are  like  another  kind  of  bee-hive 
— one  in  which  the  bees  are  all  dead,  and  there  is 
nothing  left  except  empty  comb  and  miserable 
moth-millers.  — Heecher. 

6.  Sbould  be  complete.  / 

(732.)  You  shall  rarely  find  a  man  eminent  in 
sundry  faculties  of  mind,  or  sundry  manuary  trades. 
If  his  memory  be  excellent,  his  fantasy  is  but  dull  : 
if  his  fancy  be  busy  and  quick,  his  judgment  is  but 
shallow  :  if  his  judgment  be  deep,  his  utterance  is 
harsh.  Which  also  holds  no  less  in  the  activities 
of  the  hand.  And  if  it  happen,  that  one  man  be 
qualified  with  skill  of  divers  trades,  and  practice 
this  variety,  you  shall  seldom  find  such  one  thriving 
in  his  estate.  With  spiritual  gifts,  it  is  otherwise  : 
which  are  so  chained  together,  that  who  excels  in 
one,  hath  some  eminency  in  more ;  yea,  in  all. 
Look  upon  faith  :  she  is  attended  with  a  bevy  of 
graces  :  he  that  believes  cannot  but  have  hope  ;  if 
hope,  patience  :  he  that  believes  and  hopes,  must 
needs  find  joy  in  God  ;  if  joy,  love  of  God  :  he 
that  loves  God,  cannot  but  love  his  brother  :  his 
love  to  God  breeds  piety  and  care  to  please,  sorrow 
for  offending,  fear  to  offend  ;  his  love  to  men,  fidelity 
and  Christian  beneficence.  Vices  are  seldom  sinj^le  ; 
but  virtues  go  ever  in  troops  :  they  go  so  thick,  that 
sometimes  some  are  hid  in  the  crowd  ;  which  yet 
are,  but  appear  not.  They  may  be  shut  out  from 
sight :  they  cannot  be  severed. 

— Hall,  1574-1656. 

(733.)  In  the  body  you  observe,  there  are  many 
members,  yet  all  mal<e  but  one  body  ;  and  every 
member  so  useful,  that  the  others  are  beholden  to  it. 
So  in  the  Christian  there  are  many  graces,  but  one 
new  creature  ;  and  the  eye  of  knowledge  cannot  say 
to  the  hand  of  faith,  I  have  no  need  of  thee;  nor 
the  hand  of  faith  to  the  foot  of  obedience  ;  but  all 
are  preserved  by  the  mutual  care  they  have  of  one 
another.  For  as  ruin  to  the  whole  city  may  enter 
at  a  breach  in  one  part  of  its  v.'all,  and  the  soul  run 
out  through  a  wound  in  a  particular  member  of  the 
body  ;  so  the  ruin  of  all  grace,  may,  yea,  must  needs 
follow  on  the  ruin  of  any  one.  There  is  indeed  a 
stronger  bond  of  necessity  between  graces  of  our 
souls,  than  there  is  between  the  members  of  our 
body.  'Tis  possible,  yea  ordinary  for  some  member 
to  be  cut  off  from  the  body,  without  the  death  of 
the  whole,  because  all  the  members  of  the  body  are 
not  vital  parts.  But  every  grace  is  a  vital  part  in 
the  new  creature,  and  so  essential  to  its  very  being, 
that  its  absence  cannot  be  supplied  per  vica?iiim. 
In  the  body,  one  eye  can  mai;e  a  shift  to  do  the 
office  of  its  fellow  which  is  put  out  ;  and  one  hand 
do  the  other's  work  tnat  is  cut  off,  though  may  be 
not  so  exact  !y  ;  but  faith  cannot  do  the  oflCce  of  love, 
nor  love  the  work  of  obedience.  The  lack  of  one 
wheel,  spoils  the  motion  of  the  vhole  flock  ;  and  if 
one  grace  should  be  wanting,  the  end  would  not  be 
attained  for  which  this  rare  piece  of  workmanship 
is  set  up  in  the  saint's  heart. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(734.)  Let  your  faith  set  all  graces  on  work  in 
Iheir  proper  order  and  proportion ;  and  carry  on 


the  work  of  holiness  and  obedience  in  harmony  | 
and  set  not  one  part  against  another,  nor  look  at 
one  while  you  forget  or  neglect  another. 

Every  grace  and  duty  is  to  be  a  help  to  all  the  rest, 
and  the  want  or  neglect  of  any  one  is  a  hindrance 
to  all  :  as  the  want  of  one  wheel  or  smaller  particle 
in  a  clock  or  watch  will  make  all  stand  still,  or  go 
out  of  order.  The  new  creature  consisteth  of  all 
due  parts,  as  the  body  doth  of  all  its  members.  The 
soul  is  as  a  musical  instrument,  which  must  neither 
want  one  string,  nor  have  one  out  of  tune,  nor 
neglected,  without  spoiling  all  the  melody.  A 
fragment  of  the  most  excellent  work,  or  one  member 
of  the  comeliest  body  cut  off,  is  not  beautiful ;  the 
beauty  of  a  holy  soul  and  life,  is  not  only  in  the 
quality  of  each  grace  and  beauty,  but  in  the  propor- 
tion, feature,  and  harmony  of  all. 

— Baxter,  161 5- 169 1. 

(735.)  A  little  infant  has  all  the  parts  of  an  adult : 
there  is  nothing  added  to  him  even  to  his  dying 
hour  :  the  only  difference  between  him  in  the  different 
periods  of  his  life  is,  that  his  parts  are  more  matured 
by  age,  and  capable  of  greater  exertion  when  he 
arrives  at  manhood  than  they  were  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  his  existence.  The  different  rays  of  light 
may  be  separated  by  a  prism,  and  so  be  brought 
under  distinct  and  separate  consideration  :  but  it  is 
the  assemblage  of  all  the  rays  that  constitute  light. 

In  like  manner,  we  may  separate  in  idea  the 
graces  of  a  Christian  :  but  where  there  is  one  truly 
operative,  there  is,  and  must  be  all.        — Simeon. 

(736.)  When  the  apostle  Peter  exhorts  all  believers 
to  add  to  their  faith,  virtue,  knowledge,  patience, 
godliness,  brotherly  kindness  and  charity,  he  employs 
a  word  in  the  original  Greek,  ^7rixopr)7^o-are,  which 
signifies,  io  lend  a  chorus  or  biuid  of  musicians.  The 
idea  involved  in  the  expression  is,  that  perfect 
harmony  should  exist  between  all  these  virtues,  as 
between  the  notes  of  a  piece  of  music,  each  enhanc- 
ing the  effect  of  the  other. 

There  is  harmony  in  colours  as  well  as  in  sounds  ; 
we  see  an  example  of  it  in  every  object  of  nature  ; 
and  when  the  proper  hues  are  associated  together, 
the  complementary  ones  contrasting  and  harmonising 
with  one  another,  the  effect  is  exceedingly  [lieasing. 
I  As  in  the  field  of  nature,  so  in  the  Christian  char- 
acter, all  the  graces  should  blend  in  such  a  way 
that  the  effect  of  the  whole  may  be  to  the  eye  what 
sweet  melody  is  to  the  ear. 

Were  this  the  case,  no  more  beautiful  or  convincing 
exhibition  of  the  work  of  the  Spirit  could  be  given 
to  the  world.  Like  the  four  rows  of  precious  stones 
in  the  breastplate  of  the  Jewisli  high-priest,  each 
jewel  shining  liy  its  ov\n  coloured  light,  and  yet 
contributing  to  the  brilliancy  of  the  whole,  this 
breastplate  of  righteousness  worn  by  the  Christian 
would  invest  him  with  a  sacred  character,  make 
him  an  interpreter  of  the  oracles  of  God,  and  an 
instrument  of  salvation  to  men.  But  alas  !  how 
rare  is  such  a  symmetry  of  the  graces  in  the  Christian 
character  ;  how  seldom  are  the  stones  of  the  spiritual 
buikling  laid  with  colours  that  harmonise  with  one 
another.  Graces  that  chaim  us  by  their  beauty,  lie 
close  by  the  side  of  defects  that  repel  us.  The  good 
qualities  are  overshadowed  by  glaring  weaknesses. 
The  blue  of  love  may  be  placed  side  by  side  with 
the  sickly  green  of  envy  and  jealousy,  the  purple  of 
humility,  with  the  red  and  angry  glare  of  passion. 
^^'hat  virtue  is  there  that  does  not  at  times  sm 
aj^ainst  its   fellows  ?     What  Christian  is   there,  so 


CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN         (     128    )  CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN 


perfect,  that  we  have  not  to  say  of  him,  as  our  Lord 
said  of  the  Asiatic  churches  after  enumerating  a 
long  list  of  their  good  works,  "  Nevertheless,  I  have 
somewhat  against  thee  "  ?  — Alacviillan. 

6.  How  It  l8  to  be  Judged. 

(737.)  Plutarch  speaks  of  two  men  that  were 
hired  at  Athens  for  some  public  work,  whereof  the 
one  was  full  of  tongue,  but  slow  at  hand,  and  the 
other  blank  in  speech,  yet  an  excellent  workman. 
Being  called  upon  by  the  magistrates  to  express 
themselves,  and  to  declare  at  large  how  they  would 
proceed,  when  the  first  had  made  a  long  speech, 
and  described  it  from  point  to  point,  the  other 
seconded  him  in  few  words,  saying,  "Ye  men  of 
Athens,  what  this  man  hath  said  in  words  that  will 
I  make  good  in  true  performance."  And  as  he  was 
adjudged  the  better  artisan,  so  is  the  man  of  action 
the  better  Christian.  It  is  not  the  man  of  words, 
but  the  man  of  deeds — not  the  leafy,  but  the  fruitful, 
not  the  discoursing,  but  the  doing  Christian — that 
shall  be  blessed  here  in  this  world  and  happy  in 
that  which  is  to  come.  — spencer,  1658. 

(738.)  There  are  many  men  like  ponds,  clear  at 
the  top,  and  mud  at  the  bottom  :  fair  in  their 
tongues,  but  foul  in  their  hearts. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(739-)  That  is  a  man's  mind  and  will  which  is 
habitually  his  mind  and  will.  When  the  very  in- 
clination and  bent  of  your  will  is  right,  then  only  is 
your  heart  right.  A  bowl  may,  by  a  rub,  or  bank, 
be  turned  contrary  to  the  bias  ;  but  when  it  is  over 
the  rub,  it  will  follow  the  bias  again.  So  the  soul 
is,  when  hindered  from  ascending  a  little  while,  but 
when  it  is  got  over  the  stop,  it  will  l^e  mounting  up- 
ward. A  stone  will  move  upwards  against  its 
nature,  while  it  is  followed  by  the  strength  of  the 
hand  that  cast  it ;  but  when  the  strength  is  spent, 
it  will  quickly  fall  again.  It  is  not  an  extraordinary 
act  that  you  can  try  yourselves  by,  but  such  a  free 
course  and  tenor  of  your  lives  as  will  prove  that 
you  have  a  new  nature,  or  a  heart  inclined  and 
habituated  to  God.  The  main  business,  therefore, 
is  to  prove  that  you  are  habitually  resolved. 

— Baxter,  1615-169I. 

^740.)  A  Cnristian  may  have  some  hardness  in 
his  heart,  yet  not  have  an  hard  heart.  A  field 
may  have  tares  in  it,  yet  we  call  it  a  field  of  wheat. 

—  iVatson^  1696. 

(741.)  There  is  a  ring  about  the  Christian  man 
that  is  not  to  be  mistaken.  Do  what  you  will  with 
him,  he  is  not  what  the  other  man  is,  and  you  can- 
not make  him  so.  Here  is  a  new  coin  which  looks 
amazingly  like  a  sovereign,  and  I  turn  it  over  ;  it  is 
oo  clever  a  counterfeit  that  I  cannot  discover 
whether  it  is  gold  or  no.  Heis  is  another:  it  is 
a  light  sovereign  I  find.  I  look  at  them  both,  and 
at  first  sight  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  my  new 
minted  sovereign  is  the  best  of  the  two  ;  for,  say  I, 
the  other  is  evidently  much  worn  and  light.  But 
there  is  a  ring  about  the  Christian  that  proves  him 
to  be  gold,  after  all,  even  when  he  is  worn  and 
short  in  weight.  You  may  deface  him  so  that  the 
king's  image  is  not  apparent  upon  him,  but  he  is 
gold  for  all  that ;  he  only  needs  to  be  tried,  and  in 
the  hour  of  trial  that  gold  n  sound  of  grace  will 


detect  him,  and  he  will  prove  still  to  be  one  iB 
whom  God  hath  made  a  difference.     — Spu7-geon. 

(742.)  Beethoven  was  in  the  habit  of  pla)dng  his 
symphonies  on  an  old  harpsichord  as  a  test.  They 
would  thus  be  made  to  s^and  out  in  their  true  char- 
acter, with  nothing  to  hide  their  faults,  or  exagger- 
ate their  beauties.  If,  then,  they  commended  them- 
selves to  his  ear,  they  were  good,  and  might  salely 
be  sent  forth  to  the  world. 

Thus  wisely  may  we  test  our  character,  endeavour- 
ing to  ascertain  how  it  manifests  itself — not  on  great 
and  rare  occasions,  or  before  the  public  eye,  where 
there  is  a  chance  for  display  and  applause,  but  in 
private,  in  the  little,  homely,  eveiyday  duties, 
which  attract  no  particular  attention,  and  reward  ui 
with  no  praise. 

If,  in  the  retired  nook  of  your  own  breast,  in  the 
regulation  of  your  thoughts  and  feelings ;  if,  in  the 
bosom  of  your  family,  in  the  monotonous  round  ol 
home  life  each  day,  you  preserve  a  sweet,  serene 
temper,  and  go  forward  cheerfully,  taking  a  real 
pleasure  in  duty  as  duty,  and  in  all  these  little 
matters  honestly  strive  to  serve  and  please  the 
heavenly  Master ;  if,  in  a  word,  your  piety  sounds 
well  on  such  an  unpretending  harp,  it  is  good, 
genuine,  tested  ;  it  will  one  day  win  acclamation 
from  a  vaster  and  nobler  throng  than  ever  was 
thrilled  by  the  genius  of  Beethoven. 

7.  The  final  test  in  this  world. 

(743.)  Talking  recently  with  a  lapidary  upon  the 
value  of  gems  and  the  constant  increase  of  false  and 
spurious  stones  in  the  market,  we  asked  :  "How 
do  you  detect  the  real  from  the  false — the  genuine 
from  the  paste?"  His  reply  was:  "In  these 
modern  days,  when  art  has  made  marvellous  pro- 
gress ;  when  the  keen  eye,  the  steady  hand,  the 
wealth  of  science,  are  all  summoned  to  aid  tlie  work- 
man, there  leap  out  from  the  furnace  and  the  forge 
gems  that  shine  and  sparkle  side  by  side  with  the 
diamond  and  the  chrysoprace,  and  the  spurious 
dazzles  the  beholder  even  as  the  pure.  We  \.vj 
acids,  and  the  false  will  bear  the  sharp  tooth  which 
heretofore  has  been  sure  to  detect  the  counterfeit. 
We  subject  the  stone  to  a  fiery  ordeal,  and  it  comes 
out  unharmed.  We  try  that  keen-eyed  officer  from 
the  sun  itself — polarised  light,  and  the  jewel  shines 
and  smiles  unharmed  by  that  terrible  test.  Time 
alone  is  the  detective.  With  the  passing  years  the 
glory  and  the  beauty  of  the  false  pretender  fades, 
and  the  lustrous  gem  becomes  but  a  piece  of  glass 
or  a  brittle  stone." 

So  time  alone  detects  character  and  reveals  the 
true  man.  When  each  fading  year  brings  out  intc 
clearer  relief  the  crystal  beauty  of  the  soul ;  when 
with  the  creeping  on  of  age  there  shines  from  the 
eye  a  tenderer,  softer  light ;  when,  as  one  draws 
nearer  the  sunset,  there  is  a  divine  radiance  beam- 
ing from  every  feature, — then  may  we  be  sure 
of  the  existence  of  a  true  diamond,  whose  lustre 
eternity  itself  cannot  dim.  These  are  the  ones  ol 
whom  it  is  said  :  "  And  they  shall  be  mine,  saith 
the  Lord  of  Hosts,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up 
my  jewels." 

Brilliant  talents,  a  high  position,  commanding 
influence,  the  applause  of  an  admiring  people,  art 
no  tests  of  a  man's  character  ;  tliey  may  all  centre 
about  him,  and  yet  he  be  false  within.  Time,  « ith 
its  trials  and  burdens,  its  corroding  care  and  bitter 
temptations,  will  surely  prove  of  what  stuff  he  ie 
made. 


CHARACTER,  CHRISTIAN.         (     129    ) 


CHEERF  ULNESS. 


8.  The  standard  of  judgment  In  tlie  world  to 
come. 

(744.)  When  Christ  comes  with  His  scales,  thou 
shalt  not  be  measured  with  that  man ;  but  every 
man  shall  be  weighed  with  God. 

— Dotme,  1573-1631. 

9.  In  its  first  stagss  Is  sometimes  unlovely. 
(745.)  A  young  Christian  is  like  a  green  fruit.    It 

lias  perhaps  a  disagreeable  austerity,  which  cannot 
be  corrected  out  of  its  proper  course  ;  it  wants  time 
and  growth  :  wait  a  while,  and  by  the  nourishment 
it  receives  from  the  root,  together  with  the  action 
of  the  sun,  wind,  and  rain,  in  succession  from  with- 
out, 'fi  will  insensibly  acquire  that  flavour  and 
maturity,  for  the  want  of  which  an  unskilful  judge 
would  be  ready  to  reject  it  as  nothing  worth. 

— Newton,  1735-1807. 

(746.)  With  all  their  faults,  methinks  there  is 
Something  very  beautiful  and  engaging  in  the  honest 
vehemence  of  a  young  convert.  Some  cold  and 
rigid  judges  are  ready  to  reject  these  promising 
ap[)earances  on  account  of  incidental  blemishes. 
But  would  a  gardener  throw  away  a  fine  nectaiine, 
because  it  is  green,  and  has  not  yet  attained  all  that 
beauty  and  flavour  which  a  few  more  showers  and 
suns  will  impart?  — Newton,  1 725-1 S07. 

(747.)  When  a  strong  spring  gushes  up  in  a  stag- 
nant pool,  it  makes  some  commotion  at  the  first ; 
and  looking  at  ^be  murky  stream  with  its  flotilla  of 
duckweed  tumbung  down  the  declivity,  and  the 
expatriated  newts  and  horse-leeches  crawling  through 
the  grass,  and  inlialing  the  miasma  from  the  inky 
runnel,  you  may  question  whether  the  irruption  of 
this  powerful  current  has  made  matters  any  better. 
But  come  anon,  when  the  living  water  has  floated 
out  the  stagnant  elements,  and  when,  instead  of 
mephitic  mud,  skinned  over  with  a  film  of  treacher- 
ous verdure,  the  bright  fountain  gladdens  its  mirrored 
edge  with  its  leaping  fulness,  then  trips  away  on  its 
merry  path,  the  benefactor  of  thirsty  beasts  and 
weary  fields. 

So  the  first  manifestations  of  the  new  and  the 
spiritual  element  in  a  carnal  mind  are  of  a  mingled 
sort.  The  pellicle  of  decency,  the  floating  duckweed 
of  surface-seemliness,  which  once  spread  over  the 
character,  is  broken  up,  and  accomplishments  and 
amusing  qualities,  which  made  the  man  very  com- 
panionable and  agreeable,  have  for  the  present  dis- 
appeared. There  is  a  great  break-up  ;  and  it  is  the 
passing  away  of  the  old  things,  which  is  at  first 
more  conspicuous  and  less  pleasing  than  the  appear- 
ance of  the  new.  In  these  earlier  stages  of  regen- 
erate history,  the  contrition  and  self-reproach  of  the 
penitent  often  assume  the  form  of  an  artificial  de- 
mureness  and  voluntary  humility ;  and  in  the  general 
disturbance  of  those  elements  which  have  long  lain 
in  their  specious  stagnation,  defects  of  character 
formerly  liidden,  are  perceived  sooner  than  the 
beauties  of  a  holiness  scarce  yet  developed.  But 
"spiing  up,  O  well  !  sing  ye  unto  it."  If  this  in- 
cursive  process  go  freely  on — if  the  living  water 
spring  up  fast  enough  to  clear  out  the  sedimentary 
selfishness  of  the  natural  mind,  with  its  reptile  in- 
mates— if  the  inflowings  of  heavenly  life  be  copious 
enough  to  impart  a  truly  "fervent  spirit" — come 
again.  Survey  that  character  when  the  love  of  God 
has  become  its  second  nature.  In  place  of  the  silt 
and  evil  savour,  the  mean  anti  sordid  motives  which 
once  fermented  there,  vie  the  simplicity  and  godly 


sincerity — the  light-welcoming  transparency,  which 
reflects  the  Sun  of  righteousness  above  it,  and  the 
forms  of  truth  around  it  ;  and  instead  of  the  fast 
evaporating  scantiness  of  its  former  selfishness, 
follow  i!s  track  of  diffusive  freshness  through  the 
green  pastures  which  it  gladdens,  and  beneath  those 
branches  which  gratefully  sing  over  it. 

— -Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

10.  How  it  Is  to  be  sustained. 

(748.)  A  Christian  life  is  the  living  Christ  mani- 
festing Himself.  It  is  the  vital  power  puttincr  forth 
leaves  and  fruits — the  vine  sending  out  its  strength 
into  the  branches.-  It  cannot  be  too  deeply  im- 
pressed upon  us  that  Christianity  is  a  profourd  con- 
nection of  the  soul  with  Christ — that  it  is  not  an 
imitation  of  a  splendid  model,  but  the  indwelling  of 
a  living  person — that  the  Christ  form  is  only  the 
outward  development  of  the  Christ  nature,  the  life 
manifesting  itself  after  its  kind.  You  all  know  that 
the  various  forms  of  vegetable  creation  are  sustained 
and  perfected  by  a  secret,  silent,  but  resistless  power 
which  we  call  life.  It  is  this  that  lifts  the  oak  in 
the  forest,  and  spreads  its  mighty  branches  to  the 
storm  ;  and  this  that  carpets  the  earth  with  verdure 
and  decks  the  fields  with  teeming  flowers.  In  the 
great  and  in  the  small,  in  the  tree  and  in  the  herb, 
in  the  pine  of  the  mountain  and  the  grasses  of  the 
field,  tills  secret  but  resistless  principle  asserts  its 
power.  Now,  thus  is  it  with  us  as  Christian  men  ; 
our  Christianity  is  a  princlj^le  of  life  ;  we  are  not 
imitations,  we  are  alive  ;  we  ai  e  not  artificial  flowers, 
we  are  flowers  growing  in  the  garden  ;  or,  to  keep 
to  the  metaphor  of  our  text,  we  are  branches  grow- 
ing in  the  Vine.  — J.  W.  Boulding. 


CHEERFULNESS, 

1.  Is  not  levity. 

(749.)  Between  levity  and  cheerfulness  there  is  a 
wide  distinction  ;  and  the  mind  which  is  most  open 
to  levity  is  frequently  a  stranger  to  cheerfulness. 
It  has  been  remarked  that  transports  of  intemperau- 
mirth  are  often  no  more  than  ll.ishes  from  the  ilark 
cloud  ;  and  that  in  proportion  to  the  violence  ol  ilie 
effulgence  is  the  succeeding  gloom.  Levity  may  be 
the  forced  production  of  folly  or  vice  ;  cheerfulness 
is  the  natural  offspring  of  wisdom  and  virtue  only. 
The  one  is  an  occasional  agitation  ;  the  other  a 
permanent  habit.  The  one  degrades  the  character ; 
the  other  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  dignity  of 
reason,  and  the  steady  and  manly  spirit  of  religion. 
To  aim  at  a  constant  succession  of  high  and  vivid 
sensations  of  pleasure  is  an  idea  of  happiness  per- 
fectly chimerical.  Calm  and  temperate  enjoyment 
is  the  utmost  that  is  allotted  to  man.  Beyond  tliis 
we  struggle  in  vain  to  raise  our  state  ;  and  in  fact 
depress  our  joys  by  endeavouring  to  heighten  them. 
Instead  of  those  fallacious  hopes  of  perpetual 
f-^s'lvitv  with  which  the  world  would  allure  us, 
religion  confers  upon  us  a  cheerful  tranquillity. 
Instead  of  dazzling  us  with  meteors  of  joy  which 
sparkle  and  expire,  it  sheds  around  us  a  calm  and 
steady  light,  more  solid,  more  equal,  and  more 
lasting.  — Blair,  17 18- 1 756. 

2.  Is  better  tlian  mlrtli. 

(750.)  I  have  always  preferred  cheerfulness  to 
mirth.  The  latter  I  consider  as  an  act,  the  former 
as  a  habit  of  the  mind.  Mirth  is  short  and  transient, 
cheerfulness  fixed  and  permanent.     Those  aie  often 


CHEERFULNESS. 


(    130     ) 


CHEERFULNESS. 


raised  into  the  greatest  transports  of  mirth  who  are 
subject  to  the  greatest  depressions  of  melancholy. 
On  the  contrary,  cheerfalness,  though  it  does  not 
give  the  mind  such  an  exquisite  gladness,  prevents 
us  from  falling  into  any  depths  of  sorrow.  Mirth 
is  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  that  breaks  through  a 
gloom  of  clouds,  and  glitters  for  a  moment  ;  cheer- 
fulness keeps  up  a  kind  of  daylight  in  the  mind,  and 
fills  it  with  a  steady  and  perpetual  serenity. 

— Addison,  1 67 2-1 7 1 9. 

3.  Is  not  a  sign  of  wealmess  of  character, 

(751.)  Leaves  seem  light  and  useless  and  idle  and 
wavering  and  changeable  ;  they  even  dance  ;  yet 
God  has  made  them  part  of  the  oak.  In  so  doing 
He  has  given  us  a  lesson  not  to  deny  the  stout- 
heartedness within  because  we  see  the  lightsome- 
ness  without.  — J.  C  Hare. 

4.  Its  helpfulness. 

(752.)  Give  us.  Oh,  give  us  the  man  who  sings  at 
his  work  !  Be  his  occupation  what  it  may,  he  is 
equal  to  any  of  those  who  follow  the  same  pursuit 
in  silent  sullenness.  He  will  do  more  in  the  same 
time — he  will  do  it  better — he  will  persevere  longer. 
One  is  scarcely  sensible  of  fatigue  whilst  he  marches 
to  music.  The  very  stars  are  said  to  make  harmony 
as  they  revolve  in  their  spheres.  Wondrous  is  the 
strength  of  cheerfulness,  altogether  past  calculation 
its  powers  of  endurance.  Efforts,  to  be  permanently 
useful,  must  be  uniformly  joyous — a  spirit  all  sun- 
shine— gracefid  from  very  gladness — beautiful  be- 
cause bright  — Carlyle. 

(753')  ^  Ti^n  who  acquires  a  habit  of  giving  way 
to  dejiression  is  on  the  road  to  ruin.  When  trouble 
comes  ujjon  him,  instead  of  rousing  his  energies  to 
combat  it,  he  weakens,  and  his  faculties  grow  dull, 
and  his  judgment  becomes  obscured,  and  he  sinks 
in  the  slough  of  desiwir.  And  if  anybody  pulls  him 
out  by  main  force  and  places  him  safe  on  solid 
ground,  he  stands  there  dejected  and  discouraged, 
and  is  pretty  sure  to  waste  the  means  of  help  which 
have  been  given  him.  How  different  it  is  with  the 
man  who  takes  a  cheery  view  of  life  even  at  its 
worst,  and  faces  every  ill  with  unyielding  pluck  ! 
He  may  be  swept  away  by  an  overwhelming  tide 
of  mislbrtune,  but  he  bravely  struggles  for  the 
shore,  and  is  ever  ready  to  make  the  most  of  the 
help  that  may  be  given  him.  A  cheerful,  hopeful, 
courageous  disposition  is  an  invaluable  trait  of 
character,  and  should  be  assiduously  cultivated. 

(754.)  Patience  and  cheerfulness  adorn  the  ruins 
of  fortune,  as  ivy  does  those  of  castles  and  temples. 

6.  Promotes  health. 

(755)  Cheerfulness  is  the  best  promoter  of  health. 
Repinings,  and  secret  murmurs  of  heart,  give  im- 
perceptible strokes  to  those  delicate  fibres  of  which 
the  vital  parts  are  com]>osed,  and  wear  out  the 
machine  insensibly  ;  not  to  mention  those  violent 
ferments  which  they  stir  up  in  the  blood,  and  those 
irregular  disturbed  motions  which  they  raise  in  the 
3nimal  spirits.  I  scarce  remember,  in  my  own 
observation,  to  have  met  with  many  old  men,  or 
with  sucb  who  (to  use  our  English  phrase)  wear 
well,  that  had  not  at  least  a  certain  indolence  in 
their  humour,  if  not  a  more  than  ordinary  gaiety 
and  cheerfulness  of  heart.  The  truth  of  it  is,  health 
and  cheerfulness  mutually  beget  each  other  ;  with 
this  difierence,  that  we  seldom  meet  with  a  great 
degree  of  health  which  is  not  attended  with  a  certain 


cheerfulness,  buV  very  often  see  cheerfulness  where 
there  is  no  great  degree  of  health. 

Cheerfulness   bears  the   same  friendly  regard  to 
the  mind  as  to  the  body.     It   banishes  all  anxious 
care    and    discontent,    soothes    and    composes    the 
passions,  and  keep*  the  soul  in  a  perpetual  calm. 
— Addison^  1672-1719. 

6.  Is  a  Christian  duty. 

(756.)  Many  Christians  do  greatly  wrong  them- 
selves with  a  dull  and  heavy  kind  of  sulhr.ness ; 
who,  not  suffering  themselves  to  delight  in  any 
worldly  thing,  are  thereupon  ofttimes  so  heartless, 
that  they  delight  in  nothing.  These  men,  like  too 
careless  guests,  when  they  are  invited  to  an  excellent 
banquet,  lose  their  dainties  for  want  of  a  stomach; 
and  lose  their  stomach  for  want  of  exercise.  A  good 
conscience  kee])s  always  good  cheer :  he  cannot 
choose  but  fare  well  that  hath  it ;  unless  he  lose  his 
appetite  with  neglect  and  slothfulness.  It  is  a 
shame  for  us  Christians,  not  to  find  as  much  joy  in 
God,  as  worldlings  do  in  their  forced  merriments, 
and  lewd  wretches  in  the  practice  of  their  sins. 

— Hall,  1574-1656. 

(757')  Christian,  what  ill  news  hath  Christ 
brought  from  heaven  with  Him,  that  makes  thee 
walk  with  thy  folded  arms  and  pensive  counte- 
nance? (Psal.  cxxxii.  16).  To  see  a  wicked  man 
merry,  or  a  Christian  sad,  is  alike  uncomely.  "A 
feast  is  made  for  laughter,"  saith  Solomon.  I  am 
sure  God  intended  His  people's  joy  in  the  feast  of 
the  Gospel  ;  mourners  were  not  to  sit  at  God's  table 
(Deut.  xxvi.).  Truly  the  saint's  heaviness  reflects 
unkindly  upon  God  Himself;  we  do  not  commend 
his  cheer,  if  it  doth  not  cheer  us.  What  saith  the 
world?  "The  Christian's  life  is  but  a  melancholy 
walk,"  sure  thinks  the  carnal  wretch,  "it  is  a  dry 
feast  they  sit  at,  where  so  little  wine  of  joy  is 
drunk."  And  wilt  thou  confirm  them  in  this  their 
opinion,  Christian  ?  Shall  they  have  thy  example 
to  produce  against  Christ  and  His  Word,  which 
promise  peace  and  joy  to  all  that  will  come  to  this 
feast?  0  God  forbid,  that  thy  conversation,  where- 
in thou  art  to  hold  forth  the  Word  of  life,  to  live 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  which  ought  to  be  as 
a  comment  or  gloss  upon  the  Word,  to  clear  up  the 
truth  and  reality  of  it  to  others  ;  t'~.at  this  should  so 
disagree  from  the  text,  as  to  make  the  gladsome  tid- 
ings spoken  of  in  it  more  disputed  and  questioned 
in  the  thoughts  of  the  unbelieving  world  than  be- 
fore. It  is  an  error,  I  confess,  and  that  a  gross  one, 
which  the  Papists  teach  ;  that  we  cannot  know  the 
Scriptures  to  be  the  Word  of  God,  but  by  the  testi- 
mony of  the  Church  ;  yet  it  is  none  to  say,  that  a 
practical  testimony  from  the  saints'  lives,  hath  great 
authority  over  the  consciences  of  men,  to  convince 
them  of  the  truth  of  the  Gospel.  Now  they  will  be- 
lieve 'tis  good  news  indeed  the  Gospel  brings,  w^en 
they  can  read  it  in  your  cheerful  lives  ;  but  when 
they  observe  Christians  sad  with  this  cup  of  salva- 
tion in  their  hands,  truly  they  suspect  the  wine  in  it 
is  not  so  good  as  the  preachers  commend  it  to  them 
for.  Should  men  see  all  that  trade  to  the  Indies 
come  home  poorer  than  they  went,  it  would  be  hard 
to  persuade  others  to  venture  thither  for  all  the 
golden  mountains  said  to  be  there.  O  Christians, 
let  the  world  see  you  are  not  losers  in  your  joy, 
since  you  have  been  acquainted  with  the  Gospel ) 
give  not  them  cause  to  think  by  your  un'"-omfort- 
able  walking,  that  when  thsy  turn  Chxi^il'aas,  luey 


CHEERFULNESS. 


(     131     ) 


CHEERFULNESS. 


must  bid  all  joy  farewell,  and  resolve  to  spend  their 
days  in  a  house  of  mourning. 

— Giirnall,  161 7-1679. 

(758.)  If  we  consider  cheerfulness  in  three  lights, 
*i\\.\\  regard  to  ourselves,  to  those  we  converse  with, 
and  to  the  great  Author  of  our  being,  it  will  not  a 
little  recommend  itself  on  each  of  these  accounts. 
The  man  who  is  possessed  of  this  excellent  frame  of 
mind  is  liot  only  easy  in  his  thoughts,  but  a  perfect 
master  of  all  the  powers  and  faculties  of  his  soul. 
His  imagination  is  always  clear,  and  his  judgment 
undisturbed ;  his  temper  is  even  and  unruffled, 
whether  in  action  or  in  solitude.  He  comes  with 
relish  to  all  those  goods  which  nature  has  provided 
for  him,  tastes  all  the  jjleasures  of  the  creation 
which  are  poured  about  him,  and  does  not  feel  the 
full  weight  of  those  accidental  evils  which  may  be- 
fall him. 

If  we  consider  him  in  relation  to  the  persons 
whom  he  converses  with,  it  naturally  produces  Lave 
and  good-will  towards  him.  A  cheerful  mind  is  not 
only  disposed  to  be  affable  and  obliging,  but  raises 
the  same  good-humour  in  those  who  come  within 
its  influence.  A  man  finds  himself  pleased,  he  does 
not  know  why,  with  the  cheerfulness  of  his  com- 
panion. It  is  like  a  sudden  sunshine  that  awakens 
a  secret  delight  in  the  mind,  without  her  attending 
to  it.  The  heart  rejoices  ot  its  own  accord,  and 
naturally  flows  out  into  frieiulship  and  benevolence 
towards  the  person  who  has  so  kindly  an  eflect 
npon  it. 

When  I  consider  this  cheerful  state  of  mind  in  its 
third  relation,  1  cannot  but  look  upon  it  as  a  con- 
stant habitual  gratitude  to  the  great  Author  of 
nature.  An  inward  cheerfulness  is  an  implicu 
praise  and  thanksgiving  to  Providence  under  all 
its  dispensations.  It  is  a  kind  of  acquiescence  in 
the  state  wherein  we  are  placed,  and  a  secret 
approbation  of  the  Divine  will  in  His  conduct  to- 
wards man.  — Addison,  1672-1719. 

(759.)  I  have,  in  former  papers,  shown  how  great 
a  tentlency  there  is  to  cheerfulness  in  religion,  and 
how  such  a  frame  of  niinrl  is  not  only  the  most 
lovely,  hut  'he  most  commendable,  in  a  virtuous 
person.  In  short,  those  who  represent  religion  in 
so  unamiable  a  liglit  are  like  the  spies  sent  by  Moses 
to  make  a  discovery  of  the  land  of  piumise,  when 
by  their  re|)orts  they  discouraged  the  people  from 
entering  upon  it.  Those  who  show  us  the  joy,  the 
cheerfulness,  the  good-humour,  that  naturally  springs 
up  in  this  happy  stale,  are  like  tiie  spies  bringing 
along  with  ihem  the  clusters  of  grapes  and  delicious 
fruits  that  migiit  invite  their  companions  into  the 
pleasant  country  wliich  protluced  them. 

— Addison,  1 672- 17 19. 

(760.)  If  any  man  has  springs  of  cheerfulness  and 
of  good-nature  in  him,  in  the  name  of  the  God  of 
benevolence  let  him  not  stop  them  up.  Let  him 
'ather  keep  them  open,  that  they  may  be  a  source 
of  joy  and  consolation  to  his  fellow-men.  I  have 
scmelimes  heard  it  said  of  young  men  that  before 
they  joined  the  Church  they  were  good  fellows,  but 
that  afterward  there  was  nothing  in  them.  It  is 
because  some  men  think  that  religion  consists  in 
tying  up  the  natural  faculties.  On  the  contrary,  I 
think  it  consists  in  untying  them,  in  giving  them  a 
wholesome  develojiment,  and  so  making  them  better 
»nd  sweeter  and  larger. 

We  do  not  put  a  colt  into  the  harnese  for  th" 


sake  of  diminishing  his  power,  but  simply  for  the 
sake  of  directing  it ;  and  we  are  putting  the  harness 
on  men,  not  to  take  away  tlieir  power,  but  to 
organise  it  for  use,  and  to  make  it  more  facile.  And 
in  regard  to  good  cheer,  humour,  buoyancy  of  dis- 
position, hopefulness — if  a  man  has  it  naturally,  it 
IS  an  mestimable  gift ;  and  religion  should  make  it 
more — not  less.  — Beecher. 

(761.)  When  people  want  to  make  things  attrac- 
tive in  farming,  they  give  exhibitions  of  their  pro- 
ducts. The  women  bring  their  veiy  best  butter, 
moulded  into  tempting  golden  lumps  ;  and  the  men 
bring  the  noblest  beets  and  vegetables  of  every  kind  ; 
and  from  the  orchards  they  bring  the  rarest  fruits : 
and  when  you  go  into  the  room  where  all  these 
things  are  displayed,  they  seem  to  you  attractive 
and  beautiful. 

It  seems  to  me  that  is  the  way  a  Christian  church 
ought  to  represent  the  Christian  life.  You  ought 
to  pile  up  your  apfiles  and  pears  and  peaches  and 
flowers  and  vegetables,  to  show  what  is  the  positive 
fruit  of  religion.  P>ut  many  people  in  Christian  life 
do  as  farmers  would  do  who  should  go  to  a  show, 
and  carry — one,  pigweed  ;  another,  thistles;  another, 
dock  ;  and  another,  old  hard  lumps  of  clay; — and 
should  arrange  these  worthless  things  along  the  sides 
of  the  room,  and  mourn  over  them.  What  sort  of 
husbandry  would  that  be?  Christians  are  too  apt 
to  represent  the  dark  side  of  religion  in  their  con- 
versation and  meetings. 

Christ  prayed  for  His  disciples,  that  they  might 
bring  forth  fruit.  He  declared  to  them  that  in  the 
Divine  administration,  God,  as  vintner,  sought  to 
make  the  vine  bring  forth  more  and  more  fruit. 
Bearing  fruit,  sweet,  luscious,  and  blessed,  is  the 
business  of  the  Christian  life.  — Beecher. 

(762.)  It  is  necessary  for  some  people  to  remem- 
ber that  cheerfulness,  good  spirits,  light-heartedness, 
merriment,  are  not  unchristian  nor  unsaintly.  We 
do  not  please  God  more  by  eating  bitter  aloes  than 
by  eating  honey.  A  cloudy,  foggy,  rainy  day  is  not 
more  heavenly  than  a  day  of  sunshine.  A  funeral 
march  is  not  so  much  like  the  music  of  angels  as  the 
songs  of  birds  on  a  May  morning.  There  is  no 
more  religion  in  the  gaunt  naked  forest  in  winter 
than  in  the  laughing  blossoms  of  the  spring,  and  the 
rich,  ripe  fruits  of  autumn.  It  was  not  the  pleasant 
things  in  the  world  that  came  from  the  devil,  and  the 
dreary  things  from  God  ;  it  was  "sin  brought  death 
into  the  world  and  all  our  woe  ; "  as  the  sin 
vanishes,  the  woe  will  vanish  too.  God  Himself  is 
the  ever-blessed  God.  He  dwells  in  the  light  of 
joy  as  well  as  of  purity,  and  instead  of  becoming 
more  like  Him  as  we  become  more  miserable,  and 
as  all  tlie  brightness  and  glory  of  life  are  extin- 
guished, we  become  more  like  God  as  our  blessed- 
ness becomes  more  complete.  The  great  Christian 
graces  are  radiant  with  happiness.  Faith,  hope, 
charity — there  is  no  sadness  in  them  ; — and  if  peni- 
tence makes  the  heart  sad,  penitence  belongs  to  the 
sinner,  not  to  the  saint  ;  as  we  become  more  saintly, 
we  have  less  sin  to  sorrow  over.  No,  the  religion 
of  Christ  is  not  a  religion  of  sorrow.  It  consoles 
wretchedness  and  brightens  with  a  Divine  glory  the 
lustre  of  every  inferior  joy.  It  attracts  to  itself  the 
broken-hearted,  the  lonely,  the  weary,  the  despair- 
ing, but  it  is  to  give  them  rest,  comfort,  and  peace. 
It  reki-.dles  hope  ;  it  inspires  strength,  courage,  and 
joy.     It  checks  the  merriment  of  the  thoughtless 


CHILDHOOD. 


(     132     ) 


CHILDREN. 


who  have  never  considered  the  graver  and  more 
awful  reahties  of  man's  life  and  destiny,  but  it  is  to 
lead  them  through  transient  sorrow  to  deeper  and 
more  perfect  blessedness,  even  in  this  world,  than 
they  had  ever  felt  before  the  sorrow  came. 

—£>a/e. 


CHILDHOOD 

1.  Its  beauty. 

(763.)  The  morning,  with  every  flower  glistening 
in  dews,  the  fresh  air  loaded  with  perfumes,  the 
hills  bathed  in  golden  light,  the  skies  ringing  with 
the  song  of  larks,  is  beautiful.  Beautiful  as  is  the 
morning  of  day,  so  is  that  of  life.  Fallen  though 
we  are,  there  remains  a  purity,  modesty,  ingenuous- 
ness, and  tenderness  of  conscience,  about  childhood, 
that  looks  as  if  the  glory  of  Eden  yet  lingered 
over  it,  like  the  light  of  day  on  hilltops  at  even, 
when  the  sun  is  down.  The  Word  of  God,  no 
doubt,  declares  infants  as  well  as  others  to  be  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sin  :  and  I  don't  say  but  there  is 
death  ;  still  it  is  like  death  before  the  body  has 
grown  stiff  and  cold,  the  colour  of  life  fled  the 
cheek,  or  decay  effaced  its  beauty.  Look  at  a  little 
child  1  It  does  not  behave  itself  unseemly  :  does 
not  rejoice  in  iniquity  ;  does  not  glory  in  its  shame  ; 
nor  stand  with  unblushing  front  before  a  shocked 
and  wondering  world  to  avow  its  vileness,  and  pro- 
claim itself  seducer,  liar,  murderer.  Blushes  mantle 
on  its  cheek  ;  and  it  has  a  conscience  in  its  bosom, 
which  protests  against  thouglits  and  words  and 
actions,  that  men  live  to  boast  of.  Sins,  afterwards 
committed  without  compunction,  and  rolled  as  a 
iweet  morsel  under  the  tongue,  are  followed  in  early 
life  by  fears  and  uneasy  feelings,  stings  of  conscience 
and  bitings  of  remorse  ;  and  the  child  is  no  more 
like  what  the  man  becomes,  than  a  rosebud,  burst- 
ing its  sheath,  breathing  odours,  and  opening  into 
beauty,  is  like  that  vile,  soiled,  and  rotten  thing 
which  I  have  seen  hanging  on  the  leafless  branch— 
I  nest  of  worms,  and  emelling  rank  of  decay. 

—  Guthru. 

2.  Its  sacredness. 

(764.)  Can  we  think  that  Holy  Scripture  thus 
tells  us  of  the  sacred  Childhood  of  Jesus,  and  means 
fls  not  to  reverence  childhood  ?  Feel  we  not  (at 
least,  if  we  be  not  deadened  by  this  world's  vanities) 
a  drawing  forth  of  our  inmost  hearts  towards  them, 
a  tender  love,  a  reverence  for  them,  which,  alas  ! 
we  cannot  have  for  ourselves,  and  often  not  for 
others  of  riper  years  ?  — Pusey. 

3.  Christ's  sympathy  for  childhood. 

(765.)  Jesus  was  the  first  great  teacher  of  men 
who  showed  a  genuine  sympathy  for  childhood, — 
perhaps  the  only  teacher  of  antiquity  who  cared  for 
childhcod  as  such.  Plato  treats  of  children  and 
their  games,  but  he  treats  them  from  the  stand  point 
of  a  publicist.  They  are  elements  not  to  be  left  out 
in  constructing  society.  Children,  in  Plato's  eyes, 
are  not  to  be  neglected,  because  children  will  in- 
evitably come  to  be  men  and  women.  But  Jesus 
was  the  first  who  loved  childhood  for  the  sake  of 
childhood.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  civilisation  it  is 
the  main  endeavour  of  men  to  get  away  from  child- 
hood. It  represents  immaturity  of  body  and  mind, 
ignorance  and  folly.  The  ancients  esteemed  it  their 
first  duty  to  put  away  childish  things.  It  was  Jesus 
who,  seeking    to    bring   about   a   new  and   higher 


development  of  character,  perceived  that  there  were 
elements  in  childhood  to  be  preserved  in  the  highest 
manhood  ;  that  a  man  must,  indeed,  set  back  again 
toward  the  innocence  and  simplicity  of  childhood  if 
he  would  be  truly  a  man.  Until  Jesus  Christ,  the 
world  had  no  place  for  childhood  in  its  thoughts. 
When  He  said,  "Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven,"  it  was  a  revelation.  — E^gleston. 


CHILDREN 

1.  Why  they  are  sent  to  us. 

(766.)  Tell  me  not  of  the  trim,  precisely-arranged 
homes  where  there  are  no  children  ;  "  where,"  as 
the  gootl  Germans  have  it,  "  the  fly-traps  always 
hang  straight  on  the  wall ;  "  tell  me  not  of  the  never- 
disturbed  nights  and  days,  of  tlie  tranquil,  unanxious 
hearts,  where  children  are  not  !  1  care  not  for  these 
things.  God  sends  children  for  another  purpose 
than  merely  to  keep  up  the  race  : — to  enlarge  oiii 
hearts,  to  make  us  unselfish,  and  full  of  kindly 
sympathies  and  afl'ections  ;  to  give  our  souls  higher 
aims,  and  to  call  out  all  our  faculties  to  extentled 
enterprise  and  exertion  ;  to  bring  round  our  fireside 
bright  faces  and  happy  smiles,  and  loving,  tender 
hearts.  My  soul  blesses  the  Great  Father  every 
day,  that  He  has  gladdened  the  earth  with  little 
children.  — Mary  Howitt. 

2.  Necessary  to  complete  the  home. 

{767.)  A  house  is  never  perfectly  furnished  for 
enjoyment  unless  there  is  a  child  in  it  rising  three 
years  old,  and  a  kitten  rising  three  weeks. 

— Soutliey. 

3.  Their  preciousness. 

{768.)  God  bless  the  dear  children  !  What  would 
our  homes  be  without  them  !  We  may  have  done 
much  for  them.  They  have  done  more  for  us. 
What  a  salve  for  a  wounded  heart  there  is  in  the 
soft  ]ialm  of  a  child's  hand.  Did  harp  or  flute  ever 
have  such  music  as  there  is  in  a  child's  "good- 
night." From  our  coarse,  rough  life,  the  angels  of 
God  are  often  driven  back  ;  but  who  conies  into  the 
nursery  without  feeling  that  angels  are  liovering 
around. 

On  one  of  the  Lake  steamers  there  was  a  father 
and  two  daughters  journeying.  They  seemed  ex- 
tremely poor.  A  benevolent  gen'leman  stejiped 
up  to  the  poor  man,  to  profter  some  form  of  relief, 
and  said,  "  You  seem  to  be  very  poor,  sir."  "  Poor, 
sir  !  "  replied  the  man,  "  if  there's  a  poorer  man 
than  me  a  troublin'  the  world,  (!od  pity  both  oi 
us  !"  "I  will  take  one  of  your  children,  and  adopt 
it,  if  you  say  so.  I  think  it  would  be  a  great  relici 
to  you."  "A  what?'"  said  the  poor  man.  "  .A 
relief!  Would  it  be  a  relief  to  have  the  hand? 
chopped  off  from  the  body,  01  the  heart  torn  from 
the  breast  ?  A  relief,  indeed  1  God  be  good  to  us  1 
What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  —  Talmage 

4.  Are  causes  of  anxiety  as  well  as  of  Joy. 
{769.)  Yet  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  pleasure 

of  seeing  children  ripened  into  strength  be  not  over- 
balanced by  the  pain  of  seeing  some  fall  in  the 
blossom,  and  others  blasted  in  their  growth  ;  some 
shaken  down  by  storms,  some  tainted  with  cankers, 
and  some  shrivelled  in  the  shade  ;  and  whether  h< 
thai  extends  his  care  beyond  himself  does  no< 
multiply  his  anxieties  more  than  his  pleasures,  and- 


CHILDREN. 


(     133    ) 


CHILDREN. 


weary  himself  to  no  purpose,  by  superintending  what 
he  cannot  regulate.  — Dr.  S.  Jolmson. 

5.  Are  little  men  and  women. 

(770.)  Wlien  I  see  the  motherly  airs  of  my  little 
daughters  when  playing  with  their  puppets,  I  can- 
not but  flatter  myself  that  their  husbands  and  children 
will  be  happy  in  the  possession  of  such  wives  and 
mothers.  — Addison,  1672-1719. 

6.  Preciousness  of  their  love. 

(771.)  I  love  these  little  people;  and  it  is  not  a 
slight  thing  when  they,  who  are  so  fresh  from  God, 
love  us.  — Dickens. 

7.  Tlieir  happiness. 

(772.)  I  seem,  for  my  own  part,  tp  see  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  Deity  more  clearly  in  the  pleasures  of 
very  young  children  than  in  anything  in  the  world. 

—Paley. 

8.  Their  hopefulness. 

(773-)  Nothing  seems  to  weigh  down  their  buoyant 
spirits  long  ;  misfortune  may  fall  to  their  lot,  but 
the  shadows  it  casts  upon  their  life-path  are  fleeting 
as  the  clouds  that  come  and  go  in  an  April  sky. 
Their  future  mij,  perchance,  appear  dark  to  others, 
but  to  their  fearless  gaze  it  looms  up  brilliant  and 
beautiful  as  the  walls  of  a  fairy  palace, 

—  Tegner. 

9.  Their  selfishness. 

(774.)  I  know  it  i5  a  chocking  thing  to  say,  but 
the  children  are  mostly  selfish  :  so  long  as  you  are 
adininistering  to  their  amusement  or  comfort,  they 
will  love  you,  but  the  moment  it  becomes  necessary 
to  thwart  a  whim  or  control  a  passion,  you  are 
altogether  hateful  ;  and  they  hate  you  for  the  time 
being  very  cordially.  I  have  been  loved  and  hated 
myself  a  dozen  times  a  week  ;  and  I  know  a  little 
damsel  now  who,  when  her  temper  is  crossed,  tells 
her  governess  that  she  hates  her  pet  cat,  and  is  not 
above  giving  the  innocent  pussy  a  sly  blow  or  kick 
as  proxy  for  its  much-enduring  mistress. 

— Household  Words. 

10.  Their  susceptibility  to  impressions  of  every 
kind. 

(77S-)  It  is  the  law  of  human  nature  that,  when 
it  is  beginning  to  grow,  it  shall  be  soft  as  wax 
to  receive  all  kinds  of  impressions,  and  then  that  it 
shall  gradually  stiffen  and  become  hard  a^  adamant 
to  retain  them.  The  rock  was  once  all  fluid  and 
plastic,  and  gradually  it  cools  down  into  hardness. 
If  a  finger-dint  had  been  put  upon  it  in  the  early 
time,  it  would  have  left  a  mark  that  all  the  forces 
of  the  world  could  not  make,  nor  can  obliterate  now. 
In  our  great  museums  you  see  stone  slabs  with  the 
marks  of  rain  that  fell  hundreds  of  years  before 
Adam  lived  ;  and  the  footprint  of  some  wild  bird 
that  passed  across  the  beach  in  those  old,  old  times. 
The  passing  shower  and  the  light  foot  left  their 
prints  on  the  soft  sediment  ;  then  ages  went  on, 
and  it  has  hardened  into  stone ;  and  there  they 
remain  and  will  remain  for  evermore.  That  is  like 
a  man's  spirit ;  in  the  childish  days  so  soft,  so  suscep- 
tible to  all  impressions,  so  joyous  to  receive  new 
'..jeas,  t.easuring  them  all  up,  gathering  them  all 
into  itself,  retaining  them  all  for  ever.  And  then, 
as  years  go  on,  habit,  the  growth  of  the  soul  into 
steadiness  and  power,  and  many  other  reasons  beside, 
gradually  make  us  less  and  less  capab'e  of  being 
I'lofoundly  and  permanently  inflrenred  bv  anything 


outside  us;  so  that  the   process  from  childhood  to 
manhood  is  a  process  of  getting  less  impressible. 

— Maclaren. 

(776.)  How  quick  a  child  is  to  observe,  how 
ready  to  catch  and  retain  impressions  ;  no  photo- 
graphic plate  is  so  exquisitely  sensitive  to  the  image 
which  the  sun  paints  upon  it.  — Cuyler. 

11.  The  importance  and  power  of  parental 
example. 

Kill-)  We  may  read  in  the  fable  what  the  mother 
crab  said  to  the  daughter:  "Go  forward,  my 
daughter  ;  go  forward  !  "  The  daughter  replied, 
"  Good  mother,  do  you  show  me  the  way  !  "  where- 
upon the  mother,  crawling  backward  and  sidling, 
as  she  was  wont,  the  daughter  cried  out,  "  Lo, 
mother  !  I  go  just  as  you  do  1  "  — Griffith. 

(77S.)  If  you  would  have  honour  from  your 
children,  set  them  a  good  example.  It  makes 
children  despise  their  parents,  when  the  parents 
live  in  a  contradiction  to  their  own  precepts  ;  when 
they  bid  their  children  be  sober,  yet  they  themselves 
will  be  drunk  :  they  bid  their  children  fear  God, 
yet  are  themselves  loose  in  their  lives.  Oh  !  if  you 
would  have  your  children  honour  you,  teach  them 
by  an  holy  example.  A  father  is  a  looking-glass 
which  the  child  oft  dresseth  himself  by  ;  let  the 
glass  be  clear,  and  not  spotted.    — IVatson,  1696. 

(779-)  Amongst  the  causes  assigned  for  the  con- 
tinuance and  diffusion  of  the  same  moral  sentiments 
amongst  mankind,  may  be  mentioned  iJiiitation. 
The  efficacy  of  this  principle  is  more  observable  in 
children  ;  indeed,  if  there  be  anything  in  them  which 
deserves  the  name  of  an  instincl,  it  is  their  propensity 
to  imitation.  Now,  there  is  nothing  which  children 
imitate  or  apply  more  readily  than  expressions  of 
affection  and  aversion,  of  approbation,  hatred, 
resentment,  and  the  like  ;  and  when  these  passions 
and  expressions  are  once  connected,  which  they 
soon  will  be  by  the  same  association  which  unites 
words  with  their  ideas,  the  passion  will  follow  the 
expression,  and  attach  upon  the  object  to  which  the 
child  has  been  accustomed  to  apply  the  epithet. 

—  I  'aley. 

12.  Their  claims  upon  us. 

(780.)  Children  are  travellers  newly  arrived  in  a 
strange  country  ;  we  should  therefore  make  con- 
science not  to  mislead  them.  — Locke,  1 632-1 704. 

13.  Importance  of  early  training. 

(781.)  Reason  would  teach  us,  if  revelation  did 
not,  that  childhood  was  the  most  propitious  period 
of  life  to  instil  those  precepts — ingraft  those  truths 
— and  form  those  habits  which  become  the  people 
of  God,  who  are  emphatically  styled  a  holy  and 
peculiar  people.  It  is  common  sense  to  put  the  seal 
to  the  wax  while  it  is  soft ;  to  bud  the  tender  twig 
with  the  fruit  it  should  bear  ;  to  go  to  the  fountain- 
head,  and  guide  the  current  of  the  stream  ;  and  to 
lay  hold  upon  the  young  tendrils  of  the  shooting 
vine,  and  to  train  them  as  we  would  have  them 
to  go.  — Jackson,  1640. 

(782,)  There  is  little  hope  of  children  who  are 
educated  wickedly.  If  the  dye  have  been  in  the 
wool,  it  is  hard  to  get  it  out  of  the  cloth. 

—Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

(783.)    Every  thing  must  be   taken  in  its  time. 


CHILDREN. 


(     134    ) 


CHILDREN. 


Let  a  bladder  alone  till  it  be  dry,  and  all  the  wind 
in  the  world  cannot  fill  it,  no  not  so  much  as  raise 
it  up  ;  whereas  being  new  and  moist,  the  least 
breath  enlarges  it.  It  is  not  otherwise  in  ai,'es  aiul 
dispositions.  Inform  a  child  in  preceptSjof  learning 
and  virtue,  of  which  his  years  make  him  ca])able, 
how  pliable  he  yields,  how  happily  is  he  replenished 
with  knowledge  and  goodness  !  But  let  him  alone 
till  time  and  example  have  hardened  him,  till  he  be 
settled  in  an  habit  of  evil,  and  contracted  and  clung 
together  with  sensual  delights,  he  becomes  utterly 
indocible  ;  sooner  may  such  a  plant  bow  than  brake, 
such  a  bladder  be  broken  than  extended. 

— Hall,  1 576-1656. 

(784.)  What  if  some  prove  naught  that  are  well 
brought  up  ?  it  is  not  the  generality  of  them.  Will 
you  say  that  Noah's  family  was  no  better  than  the 
drowned  world,  because  there  was  one  Cham  in  it ; 
nor  David's  because  there  was  one  Absalom  ;  nor 
Christ's  because  there  was  one  Judas  ? 

Hut  what  if  it  were  so  :  iiave  men  need  of  the 
less  teaching,  or  the  more?  You  have  more  wit  in 
the  matters  of  this  world.  'You  will  not  say,  "  I 
see  many  labour  hard,  and  yet  are  poor,  and  there- 
fore it  is  as  good  never  to  labour  at  all  ;  "  you  will 
not  say,  "  ^lany  that  go  to  school  learn  nothing, 
and  therefore  they  may  learn  as  much  though  they 
never  go  ;  or  many  that  are  great  tradesmen  break, 
and  therefore  it  is  as  good  never  to  trade  at  all  ;  or 
many  great  eaters  are  as  lean  as  others,  and  many 
sick  men  recover  no  strength  though  they  eat,  and 
therefore  it  is  as  good  for  men  never  to  eat  more  ; 
or  many  plough  and  sow,  and  have  nothing  come  up, 
and  therefore  it  is  as  good  never  to  plough  more." 
What  a  fool  were  he  that  should  reason  thus  !  And 
is  he  not  a  thousand  times  worse  that  shall  reason 
thus  for  men's  souls?  Peter  reasons  the  clean  con- 
trary way,  "If  the  righteous  be  scarcely  saved, 
where  shall  the  ungodly  and  the  sinner  appear?" 
And  so  doth  Christ,  "  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate,  for  many  shall  seek  to  enter,  and  not  be 
able." 

Other  men's  miscarriages  should  quicken  our 
diTiLience,  and  not  make  us  cast  away  all.  What 
would  yf>u  think  of  that  man  that  should  look  over 
into  his  neighbour's  garden,  and  because  he  sees 
here  and  there  a  nettle  or  weed  among  much  better 
stuff,  siiould  say,  "Why  you  may  see  these  men  that 
bestow  so  much  pains  in  digj^ing  and  weeding,  have 
weeds  in  their  garden  as  well  as  1  that  do  nothing, 
and  therefore  who  would  lie  at  so  much  pains?"  Just 
thus  doth  the  mad  world  talk  ;  you  may  see  now 
that  those  that  pray  and  read  and  follow  sermons, 
have  their  faults  as  well  as  we,  and  have  wicked 
persons  among  them  as  well  as  we.  Yea,  but  that 
is  not  the  whole  garden,  as  yours  is  ;  it  is  but  here 
and  there  a  weed,  and  as  soon  as  they  spy  it,  they 
pluck  it  up,  and  cast  it  away. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(785.)  Do  all  that  in  you  lies  to  check  and  dis- 
courage in  them  the  first  beginnings  of  sin  and  vice  ; 
so  soon  as  ever  they  appear  pluck  them  up  by  the 
roots.  This  is  like  the  weeding  of  corn,  which  is 
a  necessary  piece  of  good  husbandry.  Vices  like  ill 
weeds  grow  apace,  and  if  they  once  take  to  the  soil, 
it  will  be  hard  to  extirpate  and  kill  them  ;  but  if  we 
watch  them  and  cut  them  up  as  soon  as  they  appear, 
this  will  discourage  the  root  and  make  it  die. 

—  'lillotson,  1630-1694. 


(786.)  It  is  of  the  last  importance  to  season  the 
passions  of  a  child  with  devotion,  which  seldom  dies 
in  a  mind  that  has  received  an  early  tincture  of  it 
Though  it  may  seem  extinguished  for  a  while  by  th» 
cares  of  the  world,  the  heats  of  youth,  or  the  allure* 
mants  of  vice,  it  generally  breaks  out  and  discovers 
itself  again  as  soon  as  discretion,  consideration,  age, 
or  misfortunes  have  brought  the  man  to  himself. 
The  fire  may  be  covered  and  overlaid,  but  cannot  be 
entirely  quenched  and  smothered. 

— Addison,  1672-1719. 

(787.)  Those  soils  which  are  the  most  productive 
are  called  vegetable,  to  distinguish  them  from  sandy 
and  clayey  soils  ;  and,  as  their  name  imports,  they 
are  produced  from  the  decay  of  a  succession  o\ 
vegetable  productions.  It  is  by  much  bearing  in  a 
lower  kind  that  they  attain  their  fertility  in  a  higher. 
For  everything  is  su  created  and  constituted  of  God, 
as  to  be  able  to  fructify  the  seeds  of  some  one  plant 
or  another.  The  very  rock,  when  exposed  to  the 
heat  of  the  sun,  you  will  find  covered  with  a  moss, 
then  with  a  lichen,  and  then  perhaps  with  a  grass  ; 
and  so  on,  according  to  a  succession  which  my 
knowledge  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  doth  not 
enable  me  to  describe.  And  when  the  plant,  0/ 
whatever  kind  it  is,  hath  come  to  perfection,  and 
yielded  its  stem  and  leaves  and  fruits  and  seeds, 
all  these,  except  the  seed,  decay,  and  resolve  tliem* 
selves  into  earth  again  ;  whereby  another  coating  is 
furnished  to  the  ground  ;  and  so  by  much  bearing  a 
good  and  deep  soil  is  at  length  produced,  fit  for  the 
seeds  of  the  husbandman.  In  like  manner  it  is  in 
man,  that  by  much  ijearing  of  fruits  in  the  lower 
degrees  of  instinct  and  knowledge,  of  kindly  feelings 
and  honest  practices,  a  soil  in  due  time  is  prepared 
which  will  receive  and  fructify  the  seed  of  the  Word 
of  God,  and  bring  forth  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  to 
the  praise  and  glory  of  God. 

It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that  the  plants  and 
seeds  which  are  first  produced  by  any  soil  in  this 
progress  towards  fertility,  are  of  an  inferior  kind  in 
the  scale  of  vegetable  life,  and  fit  only  for  the 
nourishment  of  insects  and  fowls,  but  not  for  the 
nourishment  of  man  or  beast,  or  at  least  in  a  very 
insufficient  degree.  But  chiefly,  it  would  seem,  are 
they  ordained  of  God  for  this  very  end  of  preparing 
a  soil  upon  which  the  richer  fruits  and  more  nourish- 
ing plants  may  grow  ;  the  production  of  the  lower 
being,  as  it  were,  to  serve  as  the  ground-work  for 
the  production  of  the  higher  kind.  And  so  in  human 
nature  the  right  education  and  training  of  chil- 
dren in  the  ways  of  understanding  antl  truth  and 
honesty  and  dutifulness  is  to  be  diligently  ensued  ; 
not  so  much  for  the  present  advantages,  or  disadvan- 
tages though  these  be  many,  but  with  a  long-sighted 
wisdom  to  the  future  man,  and  a  full  conviction  that 
we  are  thereby  laying  the  materials  for  a  more  pre- 
cious husbandry  of  spiritual  things,  to  be  carried  on 
by  an  omnipotent  and  invisible  hand. 

And  still  further  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  if,  in 
due  time,  when  the  soil  hath  been  ripened  for  the 
tillage  of  animal  food,  it  should  not  be  turned  to 
this  use,  then  doth  it  change  its  nature,  and  heave 
up  into  moss,  or  corrupt  into  marsli,  or  take  on 
some  other  uiipioductive  and  even  noxious  quality  ; 
whereby  naunc-  doth  signify,  that,  when  she  has 
laboured  so  long  for  man's  support  and  well-being, 
if  he  will  not  profit  by  her  care,  she  will  straight- 
way avenge  his  neglect  of  her  by  something  troub- 
lous to  his  convenience,  offensive  to  his  laste,  01 


CHILDREN. 


(     I3S     ) 


CHILDREN. 


eTen  destructive  to  his  life.  This  again  teachcth 
us,  that,  after  a  man  has  been  reared  up  in  the 
observation  of  all  the  duties,  and  the  practice  of  all 
the  moralities,  and  the  study  of  all  the  faculties  of 
his  nature  and  opportunities  of  his  place ;  if  he 
refuse  the  seed  of  the  Word  of  God,  for  which  all 
the  rest  is  but  the  preparation,  or  if  you  withhold  it 
from  him,  he  will,  for  want  of  the  wholesome 
influences  thereof,  become  puffed  up  with  pride, 
filled  with  conceit,  intoxicated  with  power,  or  in 
some  other  way  evil-conditioned,  the  end  of  whom 
will  be  worse  than  the  beginning.  — Irving. 

(788.)  A  celebrated  theological  professor  of  Prince- 
ton was  asked  by  a  sceptic  :  "  Doctor,  how  do  you 
explain  this?  You  say  that  'Train  up  a  child  in 
the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will 
not  depart  from  it.'  Now,  how  do  you  account  for 
the  fact  that  your  Bill  is  such  a  dissipated  fellow?" 
The  Doctor  replied  :  "The  promise  is,  when  he  is 
old  he  will  not  depart  from  it.  Bill  is  not  old  yet  !  " 
Subsequent  years  have  shown  the  wisdom  of  the 
Doctor's  faith.     Bill  is  old  now,  and  a  Christian. 

—  Talmage, 

14.  Must  first  of  all  be  taugbt  to  exercise  self- 
restraint. 

(789.)  Young  people  who  have  been  habitually 
gratified  in  all  their  desires  will  not  only  more  in- 
dulge in  capricious  desires,  but  will  infallibly  take 
it  more  amiss  when  the  feelings  or  happiness  of 
others  require  that  they  should  be  thwarted,  than 
those  who  have  been  practically  trained  to  the 
habit  of  subduing  and  restraining  them,  and  con- 
sequently will,  HI  general,  sacrifice  the  happiness  of 
others  to  their  own  selfish  indulgence.  To  what 
else  is  the  selfishness  of  princes  and  other  great 
people  to  be  attributed  ?  It  is  in  vain  to  think  of 
cultivating  principles  of  generosity  and  beneficence 
by  mere  exhortation  and  reasoning.  Nothing  but 
the  practical  habit  of  overcoming  our  own  selfish- 
ness, and  of  familiarly  encountering  privations  and 
discomfort  on  account  of  others,  will  ever  enable  us 
to  do  it  when  required.  And  therefore  I  am  firmly 
persuaded  that  indulgence  infallibly  produces  selfish- 
ness and  hardness  of  heart,  and  that  nothing  but  a 
pretty  severe  discipline  and  control  can  lay  the 
foundation  of  a  magnanimous  character. 

— Lord  Jeffrey. 

16.  Must  be  taught  line  upon  line. 

(790.)  In  dibbling  beans  the  old  practice  was  to 
put  three  in  each  hole  :  one  for  the  worm,  one  for 
the  crow,  and  one  to  live  and  produce  the  crop. 
In  teaching  children,  we  must  give  line  upon  line, 
and  precept  upon  precept,  repeating  the  truth  which 
we  would  inculcate,  till  it  becomes  impossible  for 
the  child  to  forget  it.  We  may  well  give  the  lesson 
once  expecting  the  child's  frail  memory  to  lose  it ; 
twice,  reckoning  that  the  devil,  like  an  ill  bird,  will 
steal  it  ;  thrice,  hoping  that  it  will  take  root  down- 
ward, and  bring  forth  fruit  upward  to  the  glory  of 
God.  — Spurgcott. 

16.  Their  curiosity  is  not  to  bo  repressed,  but 
instructed. 

(791.)  Curiosity  in  children  nature  has  provided 
to  remove  that  ignorance  they  were  born  with ; 
which,  without  this  busy  inquisitiveness,  will  make 
them  dull. 

Children  should  always  be  heard,  and  fairly  and 


kindly  answered,  when  they  ask  after  anything  they 
would  know,  and  desire  to  be  informed  about. 
Curiosity  should  be  as  carefully  cherished  in  chil- 
dren as  other  appetites  suppressed. 

— Locke,  1632-1704. 

17.  Books  for  them  must  be  carefully  chosen, 

{792.)  The  influence  exercised  by  works  of  fiction 
is  overlooked  by  those  who  suppose  that  a  child's 
character,  moral  and  intellectual,  is  formed  by  those 
books  only  which  are  put  into  his  hands  with  that 
design.  As  hardly  anything  can  accidentally  touch 
the  soft  clay  without  stamping  its  mark  on  it,  so 
hardly  any  reading  can  interest  a  child  without  con- 
tributing in  some  degree,  though  the  book  itself  be 
afteruards  totally  forgotten,  to  form  the  character; 
and  the  parents,  therefore,  who,  merely  requiring 
from  him  a  certain  course  oi  stitdy,  pay  little  or  no 
attention  to  story-books,  are  educating  him  they 
know  not  how.  — i[' hately, 

18.  Must  be  instructed  in  the  Scriptures. 

(793-)  Would  mathematical  science  thrive  U 
Euclid  and  the  Principia  were  to  cease  from  the 
studies  of  our  youth  ?  Would  the  public  watchful- 
ness of  the  peo[>le  over  their  rulers  thrive  if  they 
were  to  refrain  from  perusing  the  daily  intelligence, 
and  conversing  of  public  affairs?  Will  religion 
thrive  if  the  Word  of  God  be  not  studied  and  its 
topics  conferred  on  ?  If  at  that  season  when  our 
youth  of  first  family  and  ambition  are  preparing 
their  minds  for  guiding  affairs,  by  courses  of  early 
discipline  in  public  schools,  and  those  of  second 
rank  are  entered  to  the  various  professions  of  life, 
if  then  no  pains  be  taken  to  draw  their  attention  to 
the  sacred  writings,  and  impress  principles  of  piety 
and  virtue  upon  their  minds,  how  can  it  be  expected 
that  religion  should  even  have  a  chance  ?  One 
cannot  always  be  learning  ;  youth  is  for  learning, 
manhood  for  acting,  and  old  age  for  enjoying  the 
fruits  of  both.  I  ask.  Why,  when  the  future  lawyer 
is  studying  Blackstone  or  Lyttleton  ;  the  future 
physician,  Hippocrates  and  Sydenham ;  the  future 
economist.  Smith  and  Malthus  ;  the  future  stales- 
man,  Locke  and  Sytlney  ;  each  that  he  may  prepare 
for  filling  a  reputable  station,  in  the  present  world, — 
Why  is  the  future  immortal  not  at  the  same  time 
studying  the  two  Testaments  of  God,  in  order  to 
prepare  for  the  world  to  come,  in  which  every  one 
of  us  hath  a  more  valuable  stake?  If  immortality 
be  nothing  but  the  conjuration  of  priests  to  cheat 
the  world,  then  let  it  pass,  and  our  books  go  to  the 
wind  like  the  sibyls'  leaves ;  but  if  immortality  be 
neither  the  dream  of  fond  enthusiasts,  nor  the  trick 
of  artful  priests,  but  the  revelation  of  the  righteous 
God  ;  then  let  us  have  the  literature  and  the  science, 
and  the  practice  for  the  long  after-stage  of  our  being, 
as  well  as  for  the  present  time,  which  is  but  its 
porch.  These  pleadings  are  to  men  who  believe 
immortality  (we  may  hereafter  plead  with  tho  e 
otherwise  minded)  ;  therefore  justify  your  belief,  nnd 
show  your  gratitude  by  taking  thought  and  p.iins 
about  the  great  concerns  of  that  immuriality  v\hich 
you  believe.  — Irving. 

19.  Should  be  trained  to  attend  public  -worship. 
(794.)  The  question  is  often  asked  liuw  shall  we 

get  our  working-classes  to  attend  public  worship. 
The  answer  may  be  supplied  by  an  incident  of  my 
boyhood      On  the  mantle-shelf  of  my  grandmother's 


CHILDREN. 


(     136    ) 


CHILDREN. 


best  parlour,  among  other  marvels  was  an  apple  in 
a  phial.  It  quite  tilled  up  the  body  of  the  bottle, 
and  my  wondering  inquiry  was,  "How  could  it  I 
Inve  been  got  into  its  place?"  By  stealth  I 
I  limbed  a  chair  to  see  if  the  bottom  would  unscrew, 
or  if  there  had  been  a  join  in  the  glass  throughout 
the  length  of  the  phial.  I  was  satisfied  by  careful 
observation  that  neither  of  these  theories  could  be 
su])ported,  and  the  apple  remained  to  me  an  enigma 
and  a  mystery.  But  as  it  was  said  of  that  other 
wonder,  the  source  of  the  Nile — 

"  Nature  well  known  no  mystery  remains,"— 

SO  was  it  here.  Walking  in  the  garden  I  saw  a 
phial  placed  on  a  tree  bearing  within  it  a  tiny  apple, 
which  was  growing  within  the  crystal ;  now  I  saw 
it  all ;  the  apple  was  put  into  the  bottle  while  it 
was  little,  and  it  grew  there.  Just  so  must  we 
catch  the  little  men  and  women  who  swarm  ur 
streets — we  call  them  boys  and  girls— and  in- 
troduce them  within  the  influence  of  the  church, 
for  alas  !  it  is  hard  indeed  to  reach  them  when  they 
have  ripened  in  carelessness  and  sin. 

— Spurgeon. 

20.  Are  not  lncap;;ble  of  faith. 

(795.)  There  are  persons  who  appear  to  think 
that  the  comjirehensions  of  the  theology  of  Chris- 
tianity, or  of  the  philosophy  of  the  atonement,  is 
essential  to  its  efficiency,  and  that  therefore  chil- 
dren are  incapable  of  faith.  We  hold  a  totally 
different  opinion.  Much  that  is  called  theology 
and  philosophy  on  this  subject,  is  neither  Divine 
revelation  nor  sound  human  wisdom,  and  we 
devoutly  wish  that  much  which  is  presented  to  us 
as  an  explanation  of  the  atonement,  had  never  been 
put  forth  by  lip,  or  pen,  or  press.  We  believe  that 
it  is  possible  to  accept  all  the  intended  benefit  from 
the  sin-offering  of  the  Saviour,  without  compre- 
hending or  knowing  even  all  that  God  has  spoken 
on  the  topic.  To  know  that  Christ  died  for  the 
ungodly,  and  that  Jesus  died  for  us,  is  all  the  know- 
ledge of  the  atonement  that  is  essential  to  salvation  ; 
and  none  can  deny  that  a  little  child  is  capable  of 
such  knowledge.  That  subsequent  sense  of  mys- 
tei7,  which  leads  us  men  to  look  for  explanations, 
has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  efficacy  of 
the  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of  God.  On  the  contrary, 
as  many  dyspeptic  persons  are  robbed  of  nutriment 
from  the  food  which  they  eat,  by  reading  books  upon 
digestion,  so  many  Christians  are  deprived  of  much 
comfort  from  "the  precious  blood  of  Jesus,"  by 
llieir  everlasting  "Why?"  and  "How  is  it?" — 
and  by  their  not  receiving  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
as  a  little  child.  "A  little  child."  Yes,  a  little 
child,  who  feels  the  meaning  of  those  words,  "for 
us,"  in  the  phrase,  "  Christ  died  for  us," — the  child 
who  can  say.  Father  goes  to  work  "for"  me,  and 
mother  has  made  herself  so  tired  "for"  me,  can 
attach  a  sufhcient  meaning  to  the  words,  "Jesus 
died  for  us,"  to  qualify  him  to  believe  on  that 
J  esus  for  the  saving  of  the  soul. 

— Samuel  Martin. 

(796.)  A  Sunday-school  teacher  was  trying  to 
make  his  class  understand  the  dependence  of  the 
branches  on  the  vine.  "Jesus  is  the  vme ;  we 
are  the  branches.  We  derive  all  our  life  and  happi- 
ness from   Him."      "Yes,"  said  a  little    fellow, 


"Jesus    is    the   vine;    grown-up   people    are    thfl 
branches ;  and  we  are  the  buds." 

21.  Their  repentance  real. 

(797.)  We  have  already  admitted  that  a  child's 
knowledge  of  sin  is  necessarily  small,  that  its  sense 
of  sin  is  feeble,  and  its  sorrow  for  sin  shallow.  But 
then  it  must  be  remembered  that,  comparatively 
speaking,  the  actual  transgressions  of  most  children 
are  but  few,  and  that  godly  sorrow  is  a  slow  growth, 
even  in  the  adult  convert.  Moreover,  the  genuine- 
ness f  repentance  is  entirely  independent  af  the 
number  and  of  the  character  of  the  sins  to  be 
repented  of,  and  equally  independent  of  the  degree 

f  regret  and  self-chiding  which  are  experienced. 
Hov/  slight  is  the  deviation  from  the  main  line  at 
what  are  termed  the  points  of  a  railway  junction  j 
and  yet  a  divergence,  almost  imperceptible  at  first, 
leads  to  a  terminus,  far  away  from  that  int»  which 
the  metals  of  the  trunk  line  w,.uld  have  conducted 
the  train.  The  tiny  daisy  as  really  turns  its  face  to 
the  sun,  as  the  tall  and  stately  sunflower.  A  drop 
of  water  from  the  snow  which  melts  on  the  grass 
blade,  as  it  grows  upon  the  bank  of  the  glacier 
stream,  as  really  finds  its  way  to  the  ocean,  as  the 
waters  that  rush  from  beneath  the  glacier  itself. 
The  grain  of  gold  dust  is  as  really  precious  metal  as 
the  bar  of  gold.  True  life  is  as  really  in  the  germ 
or  in  the  foetus,  as  in  the  full-grown  animal  or  tree. 
The  tears  of  the  tiny  infant  as  effectually  lave  the 
eye,  as  the  tears  of  a  full-grown  man.  We  are  too 
apt  to  apply  the  standard  of  quantity  to  spiritual 
things.  Thus  prayers  are  estimated  by  their  length 
or  frequency,  an '  pecuniary  gifts  by  their  com- 
mercial value,  and  service  by  the  time  devoted  to 
it.  It  is  quite  true  that  the  tears  of  a  child  are  not 
continuous — 

"The  tear  on  childhood's  cheek  that  flows, 
Is  like  the  dewdrop  on  the  rose." 

It  is  true  that  the  sighs  of  a  child  are  not  heavy ; 
they  are  not,  as  in  the  soul  of  manhood  and  woman- 
hood, ocean  waves,  but  they  are  rather  like  the 
ripple  upon  the  waters  of  some  sheltered  lake.  It 
is  true  that  the  emotions  of  a  child  are  not  the 
hardy  blossoms  of  a  sturdy  fruit  tree,  but  the  tender 
and  delicate  bloom  of  a  tree  that  has  as  yet  yielded 
little  more  than  promise  of  fruit.  Nevertheless, 
that  blossom,  which  winds  will  tear  and  shake, 
is  the  outflowing  of  life  ;  that  ripple  on  the  lake 
shows  susceptibility  in  the  water  towards  its 
sister  element,  air  ;  and  those  dewdrop  tears  show 
that  earth  and  heaven,  man  and  God,  are  working 
upon  the  child's  nature.  The  hands  of  the  infant 
united,  as  we  have  all  seen  them  joined  in  the 
familiar  statue  ■  f  Hannah's  child,  and  in  the 
pictorial  representations  of  the  infant  Samuel,  may 
express  as  real  a  repentance,  and  may  as  distinctly 
appeal  to  heaven,  as  the  publican's  smiting  upon 
his  breast,  and  crying,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner  I  "  — Samuel  Martin. 

22.  Should  he  taught  to  look  to  Jesus. 

(798.)  Godly  children  are  God's  workmanship, 
created  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  if  we  would  be  the 
means  of  leading  children  into  true  godliness,  we 
must  bid  them  to  look  to  our  Saviour  Jesus.  I  say 
to  Him,  not  at  Him.  Some  who  have  to  do  with 
the  religious  instruction  of  children,  require  them  to 
look  at  Christ  instead  of  to  Him.  There  is  a  vast 
difference  between  these  things.     The  child  looks 


CHILDREN. 


c  137  ; 


CHILDREN. 


at  the  queen,  when  he  goes  to  see  her  proceed  in 
state  to  open  the  Parliament ;  but  he  looks  to  his 
mother,  when  he  relies  on  her  for  the  supply  of  his 
daily  wants.  We  look  at  the  statue,  say  of  Jenner, 
or  of  Atvirnethy,  but  we  look  to  our  medical  atten- 
dant for  advice  and  healing.  We  look  at  Pitt  or 
Fox,  as  they  now  stand  before  us  in  marble  or 
stone,  but  we  look  to  the  prime  minister  of  the  day 
for  the  conduct  of  our  national  affairs.  We  Chris- 
tians know  for  ourselves,  that  it  is  not  by  looking  at 
Jesus,  as  at  a  great  sight,  that  we  are  saved  ;  but 
by  looking  to  Him,  as  to  a  loving,  personal 
Redeemer ;  therefore,  in  speaking  to  children  of 
the  Son  of  God,  it  is  important  to  speak  of  Him, 
not  as  of  a  Being  to  be  looked  at,  but  looked  unto. 
—  Samuel  Martin. 

(799.)  Mirabeau  was  once  asked  what  was  the 
best  way  of  teaching  popular  liberty?  He  replied, 
"  Begin  with  the  infant  in  the  cradle,  and  let  the 
first  name  it  lisps  be  Washington."  So  we  would 
say  to  Christian  parents,  the  best  way  to  teach  your 
children  the  knowledge  of  that  liberty  which  makes 
them  free  indeed,  is  to  begin  in  the  cradle,  and 
let  the  first  name  you  teach  them  to  speak  be 
Jesus. 

23.  True  godliness  in  children  is  childlike. 

(800.)  Tlie  ability  to  talk  religi  lusly  is  no  sign 
of  early  piety.  Speech  seasoned  with  religious 
phrases  and  with  texts  of  Scripture,  may  be  a  mere 
matter  of  taste,  or  may  sjning  from  a  desire  to 
please  Christian  kindred  and  friends,  or  from  a  wish 
to  be  noticed,  and  to  receive  attention  from  partic- 
ular persons.  Further,  the  profession  of  piety  is  no 
proof  of  early  godliness,  for  this  may  be  mere  imi- 
tation. The  most  certain  sign  of  early  piety  is 
that  which  is  called  in  Scripture  "doing  that  which 
is  right  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord."  "  By  their  fruits 
ye  shall  know  them."  Godly  conduct  is  godliness 
outside,  and  it  proves  the  existence  of  godliness 
within.  But  the  point  to  which  we  would  call 
attention  is  this,  that  very  often  a  degree  of  per- 
fection is  looked  for  in  a  child,  before  his  claim  to 
be  accounted  godly  is  allowed,  and  a  degree  of 
maturity  is  required,  which  is  not  demanded  from 
an  adult  professor  of  religion.  The  waters  of  the 
Gulf  Stream  (svhich  in  or  near  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
are  of  an  indigo-blue),  are  said  to  be  so  distinctly 
marked,  that  their  line  of  junction  with  the  common 
sea-water  may  be  traced  by  the  eye.  Often  one 
half  of  a  vessel  may  be  seen  floating  in  the  Gulf 
Stream  water,  while  the  other  .half  is  in  the  common 
water  of  the  sea  ;  so  sharp  is  the  line,  and  such  the 
want  of  affinity  between  those  waters,  and  such  the 
reluctance,  so  to  speak,  on  the  part  of  the  Gulf 
Stream  to  mingle  with  the  common  water  of  the 
sea.  In  like  manner,  through  much  in  a  child's 
conduct  that  is  disobedient  and  unloving  and  god- 
less, may  be  sometimes  seen  a  stream  of  obedient, 
loving,  and  Christian  action,  proving  that  a  fountain 
of  living  watei  has  been  opened  in  the  heart,  and 
affording  reason  to  hope  that  in  due  time,  as  this 
fount  is  made  deeper  and  wider,  the  pure  stream 
will  expanA,  until  it  covers  the  entire  outer  life. 
Or,  to  adopt  another  illustration,  we  sometimes  see 
in  a  little  child  the  moral  fighting  of  a  little  soldier, 
and  the  moral  courage  of  a  little  hero.  With  a  dis- 
position to  do  wrong,  and  with  many  temptations 
to  that  which  is  evil,  the  :hild  fights  with  all  his 
power  of  heart  and  arm.    lie  is  sometimes  defeated. 


but  still  life,  even  to  that  little  one,  is  a  battle — • 
hard  and  honest  struggle.  The  children  who  are 
marked  out  by  these  observations,  exhibit  the  most 
trustworthy  signs  of  true  godliness.  If  life  be  all 
peaceful,  and  calm,  and  united,  it  is  difficult  to  say, 
what  of  apparent  godliness  is  traceable  to  constitu- 
tion, and  temperament,  and  imitation.  But  if  there 
be  a  stream  within  a  stream,  if  there  be  a  hard  and 
heavy  conflict,  then  we  may  say.  Here  is  the  fingei 
of  God,  here  is  the  hand  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  here 
is  the  workmanship  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

— Samuel  Martin. 

24.  A  child's  faith  In  prayer. 

{801.)  God  answers  all  true  believing  petitions 
that  are  addressed  to  Him,  and  the  more  we  trust 
Him  the  safer  we  are.  One  cannot  be  too  con- 
fident. 

A  Sunday-school  pupil  one  time  had  a  great 
grown-up  sister,  whom  he  loved  very  much.  .She 
was  gay  and  worldly  and  would  not  go  to  church. 
This  boy  said  one  day  to  his  teacher  :  "  Oh  !  I  wish 
Sarah  would  read  the  Bible."  His  teacher  replied  : 
"  Well,  you  must  pray  God  to  lead  her  to  do  so, 
and  that  will  do  her  good  and  make  her  a  Chris- 
tian." So,  when  the  school  prayer-meeting  was 
held,  the  teacher  gave  out  that  one  of  the  scholars 
wished  his  sister  prayed  for.  After  others  had 
prayed,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody  the  lad  him- 
self rose  and  reverently  uttered  a  little  prayer. 
Then  at  once  he  left  the  room.  His  teacher 
rebuked  him  afterwards  because  he  went  out  of  the 
meeting.  "  Oh  !  "  said  he,  "  1  did  so  want  to  see 
how  Sarah  would  look  with  a  Bible  in  her  hands.  ' 
Now  that  is  the  right  spirit.  We  must  follow  up 
our  prayers,  and  see  what  becomes  of  them. 

— C.  S.  Robinson. 

25.  How  religion  1b  to  be  commended  to  them. 

(802.)  We  have  especially  cause  to  bear  in  mind 
a  remark  of  the  Rev.  C.  Simeon's,  when  we  are 
attempting  to  bring  the  young  under  religious  influ- 
ences. A  lady  had  asked  him  if  we  ought  always 
to  be  talking  about  religion.  "  No,  no  !  "  answered 
the  good  man,  rather  precipitately,  "let  your  speech 
be  seasoned  with  salt  ;  seasoned  with  salt,  madam, 
not  a  whole  mouthful."  Nothing  produces  more 
fatal  results  than  "dinning"  religion  into  a  child  ; 
the  "  whole  mouthful  "  crammed  into  the  child's 
mouth  being  simply  rejected  with  disgust.  Though, 
in  dealing  with  children,  everything  should  be 
seasoned  with  the  salt  of  true  religion,  yet  we  must 
remember  that  small  vessels  are  soon  filled,  and  He 
who  is  "  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities" 
certainly  meant  us  to  be  touched  with  the  infirmities 
of  little  children. 

26.  Their  religious  training  devolves  especially 
upon  their  parents. 

(803.)  Our  children  are  not  born  with  Bibles  in 
their  heads  or  hearts.  And  who  ought  to  be  the 
instructor,  if  not  the  parent?  yea,  who  will  do  it 
with  such  natural  affection  ?  As  I  have  heard  some- 
times a  mother  say  in  other  respects.  Who  can  tal^e 
such  pains  with  my  child,  and  be  so  careful  as  my- 
self that  am  its  mother  ?  Bloody  parents  then  they 
are,  who  acquaint  not  their  children  with  God  or 
His  Word  ;  what  do  they  but  put  them  under  a 
necessity  of  perishing,  if  God  stir  not  up  some  to 
show  more  mercy  than  themselves  to  them  ?     Is  it 


CHILDREN. 


(     13S     ) 


CHILDREN. 


any  wonder  to  hear  that  ship  to  be  sunk  or  clashed 
upon  tlie  rock  which  was  put  to  sea  without  cliart 
or  ciimpa?'!?  no  more  is  it  they  should  ingulph 
themselves  in  sin  and  perdition  that  are  thrust 
(orth  into  the  world  (which  is  a  sea  of  temptation) 
without  the  knowledge  of  God,  or  their  duty  to 
Him.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(S04.)  The  Church  hesjan  at  first  in  a  family,  and 
was  preserved  by  the  godly  care  of  parents  in  in- 
structing their  children  and  houseliold  in  the  truths 
of  God,  whereby  the  knowledge  of  God  was  trans- 
mitted from  generation  to  generation  ;  and  though 
now  the  Church  is  not  confined  to  such  strait  limits, 
yet  every  private  family  is  as  a  little  nursery  to  the 
Church  ;  if  the  nursery  be  not  carefully  planted,  the 
orchard  will  soon  decay.  Oh,  could  you  be  willing, 
Christians,  that  your  children  when  you  are  laid  in 
the  dust,  should  be  turned  into  the  degenerate  plants 
of  a  strange  vine,  and  prove  a  generation  tliat  do 
not  know  God  ?  Atheism  needs  not  to  be  planted, 
you  do  enough  to  make  your  childi-en  such,  if  you 
do  not  endeavour  to  plant  religion  in  their  minds. 
The  very  neglect  of  the  gardener  to  sow  and  dress 
his  garden,  gives  advantage  enough  to  the  weeds  to 
come  up.  This  is  the  difference  between  religion 
and  atheism,  religion  doth  not  grow  without  plant- 
ing, but  will  die  even  where  it  is  planted  without 
watering.  Atheism,  irreligion,  and  profaneness  are 
weeds  that  will  grow  without  setting,  but  they  will 
not  die  without  plucking  up  ;  all  care  and  means 
are  little  enough  to  stub  tliem  up.  And,  therefore, 
you  that  are  parents,  and  do  not  teach  your  children, 
deal  the  more  unrighteously  with  God,  because  you 
neglect  the  best  season  in  their  whole  life  for  plant- 
ing in  them  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  plucking 
up  the  contrary  weeds  of  atheism  and  irreligion. 
Young  weeds  come  up  with  most  ease,  sinful  ignor- 
ance in  youth  becomes  wilful  ignorance,  yea, 
imjiudence  in  age  :  you  will  not  instruct  them  when 
young,  and  they  will  scorn  their  ministers  when 
they  are  old.  — Guinall,  1617-1679. 

(805.)  Some  will  further  object,  and  say,  "  It  is 
the  work  of  ministers  to  teach  both  us  and  our 
children,  and  therefore  we  may  be  excused." 

Ans7fer. — It  is  first  your  duty,  and  then  the 
minister's.  It  will  be  no  excuse  for  you,  because 
it  is  their  work,  except  you  could  prove  it  were  only 
theirs.  Magistrates  must  govern  both  you  and  your 
children  :  doth  it  therefore  follow  that  you  must  not 
govern  them  ?  It  belongs  to  the  schoolmaster  to 
correct  them,  and  doth  it  not  belong  also  to  you  ? 
There  must  go  many  hands  to  this  great  work,  as 
to  the  building  of  a  house  there  must  be  many 
workmen,  one  to  one  part,  and  another  to  another ; 
and  as  your  corn  must  go  through  many  hands 
before  it  be  bread  :  the  reaper's,  the  thresher's,  the 
miller's,  the  baker's  ;  and  one  must  not  leave  their 
part,  and  say,  It  belongs  to  the  other  :  so  it  is  here 
in  the  instructing  of  your  children  :  first  you  must 
do  your  work,  and  then  the  minister  do  his :  you 
must  be  doing  it  privately  night  and  day ;  the 
minister  must  do  it  publicly  and  privately  as  oft  as 
he  can.  — Baxter,  16 1 5-1 691. 

(806.)  It  is  not  laws  and  orders  that  will  reform 
us,  if  the  men  be  not  good,  and  reformation  begin 
not  at  home.  When  children  go  wicked  from  the 
hands  of  their  parehii,  thunce  some  come  such  to 
ih-i  universities,  and  so  we  come  to  have  an  ungodly 


ministry,  and  in  overy  profession  they  bring  this 
fruit  of  their  education  with  them.  When  gentle- 
men teach  their  children  only  to  hunt,  and  hawk, 
and  game,  and  deride  the  godly,  what  magistrates, 
and  what  parliaments,  and  so  what  government, 
and  what  a  conmionwealth  are  we  likely  to  have, 
when  all  must  be  guided  by  such  as  these  !  Some 
perverse,  inconsiderate  persons  lay  the  blame  of  all 
this  on  the  ministers  ;  that  people  of  all  sorts  are 
so  ignorant  and  profane ;  as  if  one  man  can  do 
the  work  of  many  hundreds.  I  beseech  you  that 
are  masters  and  parents,  do  your  own  duties,  and 
free  ministers  from  these  unjust  aspersions,  and  the 
Church  from  her  reproach  and  confusion.  Have  not 
ministers  work  enough  of  their  own  to  do  ?  Oh, 
that  you  knew  what  it  is  that  lieth  on  them  !  And 
if,  besides  this,  you  will  cast  upon  them  the  work 
of  every  master  and  parent  in  the  parish,  is  it  likely, 
indeed,  to  be  well  done?  How  many  sorts  of 
workmen  must  there  be  to  the  building  of  a  house  ? 
And  if  all  of  these  should  cast  it  upon  one,  and 
themselves  do  nothing,  you  may  judge  how  much 
were  likely  to  be  done.  If  there  be  three  or  four 
schoolmasters  in  a  school,  amongst  three  or  foui 
hundred  scholars,  and  all  the  lower  that  should  lil 
them  for  the  higher  schools  should  do  nothing  at 
all  but  send  all  these  scholars  to  the  highest  school- 
master as  ignorant  as  they  received  them,  would 
not  his  life  be  a  burden  to  him,  and  all  the  work  be 
frustrated  and  spoiled  i  Why,  so  it  is  here.  The 
first  work  towards  the  reforming  and  making 
happy  of  Church  and  Commonwealth,  lies  in  the 
good  education  of  your  children  ;  the  most  of  this 
is  your  work;  and  if  tliis  be  left  undone,  and  then 
they  come  to  the  ministers  raw  and  ignorant,  and 
hardened  in  their  sins  also,  what  can  a  minister 
do?  Whereas,  if  they  come  trained  up  in  the 
principles  of  religion,  and  the  practice  of  godliness, 
and  were  taught  the  fear  of  God  in  their  youth,  oh, 
what  an  encouragement  would  it  be  to  ministers  I 
And  how  would  the  work  go  in  our  hands  !  I  tell 
you  seriously,  this  is  the  cause  of  all  our  miseries 
and  unreformedncss  in  Church  and  State,  even  the 
want  of  a  holy  education  of  children.  Many  lay 
the  blame  on  this  neglect  and  that,  but  there  is 
none  hath  so  great  a  hand  in  it  as  this.  What  a 
school  must  there  needs  be  where  all  are  brought 
raw,  as  I  said,  to  the  highest  form  !  What  a  house 
must  there  needs  be  built,  when  clay  is  brought  to 
the  masons'  hands  instead  of  bricks !  What  a 
commonwealth  may  be  expected  if  all  the  con- 
stables and  justices  should  do  nothing  but  cast  all 
upon  king  and  parliament  !  And  so,  what  a  Church 
may  we  expect  when  all  the  parents  and  masters 
in  the  parish  shall  cast  all  their  duty  on  their 
ministers  I 

I  entreat  you  that  are  parents,  also  to  consider 
what  excellent  advantages  you  have  above  all 
others  for  the  saving  of  your  children.  They 
are  under  your  hands  while  they  are  young, 
and  tender,  and  flexible ;  but  they  come  to 
ministers  when  they  are  grown  older,  and  stiffer, 
and  settled  in  their  ways,  and  think  themselves 
too  good  to  be  catechised,  and  too  old  to  be 
taught.  You  have  a  twig  to  bend,  and  we  an  oak. 
You  have  the  young  plants  of  sin  to  pluck  up,  and 
we  the  deep-rooted  vices.  The  consciences  of 
children  are  not  so  seared  with  a  custom  of  sinning 
and  long-resisting  grace  as  others.  You  have  tlie 
soft  and  tender  eaith  to  plough  in,  and  we  have 
the  hard  and  stony  ways,  that  have  been  troilden 


CHILDREN. 


(     139     ) 


CHILDREN. 


on  by  many  years'  practice  of  evil.  When  they 
are  young,  their  understandings  are  like  a  sheet  of 
white  paper,  that  hath  nothing  written  on,  and  so 
3'ou  have  opportunity  to  write  what  you  will. 
But  when  they  are  grown  uji  in  sin,  they  are  like 
the  same  paper  written  over  with  falsehoods, 
which  must  all  be  blotted  out  again,  and  truth 
written  in  the  place.  And  how  hard  is  that  ! 
We  have  hardened  hearts  to  beat  on  like  a  smith's 
anvil,  that  will  not  feel  us  ;  we  may  tell  them  of 
death  and  judgment,  heaven  and  hell,  and  they 
hear  us  as  if  they  were  asleep  or  dead  ;  you  have 
the  soft  clay  to  mould,  and  we  have  the  hardened 
burned  bricks.  You  have  them  before  they  are 
possessed  with  prejudice  and  false  conceits  against 
the  truth,  but  we  have  them  to  teach  when  they 
have  many  years  lived  among  those  that  have 
scorned  at  godliness,  and  taught  them  to  think 
God's  ways  to  be  foolish  preciseness.  Custom 
nath  not  ensnared  and  engaged  our  little  ones  to 
.ontrary  ways,  but  of  old  sinners,  the  Lord  Him- 
self hath  said,  "that  if  the  Ethiopian  can  change 
his  skin,  and  the  leopard  his  spots,  then  may 
those  that  are  accustomed  to  do  evil,  learn  to 
do  well."  Doth  not  the  experience  of  all  the 
world  show  you  the  power  of  education  ?  What 
else  makes  all  the  children  of  the  Jews  to  be  Jews  ; 
and  all  the  children  of  the  Turks  to  be  Mahometans  ; 
and  of  Christians  to  be  in  profession  Christians  ; 
and  of  each  sect  or  party  in  religion  to  follow  their 
parents  and  tlie  custom  of  the  place?  Why  now, 
what  an  advantage  have  you  to  use  all  this  for 
tlie  furtherance  of  their  hajipiness,  and  possess 
them  as  strongly  beforehand  against  sin,  as  else 
Satan  would  do  for  it ;  and  so  Satan  would 
come  to  them  upon  some  of  those  disadvantages 
that  now  Christ  comes  on. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

27.  Their  precocious  developments  are  to  be 
checked. 

(807  )  Here  is  a  great  tree  overlaid  with  blossoms. 
It  is  not  possible  that  all  these  should  prosper  ;  one 
of  them  must  needs  rob  the  other  of  moisture  and 
growth. 

I  do  not  love  to  see  an  infancy  over  hopeful  :  in 
these  pregnant  beginnings,  one  faculty  starves  an- 
other ;  and,  at  last,  leaves  the  mind  sapless  and 
barren.  As,  therefore,  we  are  wont  to  pull  off  the 
too-frequent  blossoms  that  the  rest  may  thrive  ;  so, 
it  is  good  wisdom  to  moderate  the  early  excess  of 
the  parts  of  progress  of  over-forward  childhood. 
—Hall,  1 574-1656. 

88.  Should  be  trained  to  industry. 

(80S.)  When  your  children  are  grown  up,  put 
them  to  some  lawful  calling,  wherein  they  may 
serve  their  generation.  And  it  is  good  to  consult 
the  natural  genius  and  inclination  of  a  child  ;  forced 
callings  do  as  ill,  sometimes,  as  forced  matches. 
To  let  a  child  be  out  of  a  calling  is  toiexpose  it  to 
temptation.  A  child  out  of  a  calling  is  like  fallow- 
ground  ;  and  what  can  you  expect  should  grow  up 
but  weeds  of  disobedience?         — IVatson,  1696. 

{809.)  Honest  work  is  the  best  employment  for 
fallen  man  ;  and  the  bread  of  idleness  breeds  sin 
and  trouble  ia  those  that  eat  it.  This  is  often 
illustrated   in   the   luxuriant    affluence   of    tropical 


vegetation.  The  unsought  bounty  of  nature  there 
feeds  a  race  of  idle  and  dissolute  men, 

"  Where  every  prospect  pleases. 
And  only  man  is  vile  ;" 

and  the  plenty  granted  by  Heaven  becomes  a  dire 
calamity  to  those  who  misimprove  the  benefits 
bestowed  by  God.  "  Mr.  Dilke  believes  that  the 
banana  plant  is  one  of  the  greatest  curses  of  tropical 
countries,  because  it  will  supjiort  life  with  no 
labour.  It  grows  as  a  weed,  and  hangs  down  its 
bunches  of  ripe,  tempting  fruit  into  your  lap  as  you 
lie  in  its  cool  shade.  It  will  make  nothing  ;  you 
can  eat  it  raw  or  fried,  and  that  is  all  ;  you  can  eat 
it  every  day  of  your  life  without  becoming  tired  of 
its  taste  ;  without  suffering  in  your  health  you  can 
live  on  it  exclusively.  '  The  terrible  results  of  the 
plentiful  possession  of  this  tree  are  seen  in  Ceylon, 
at  Panama,  in  the  coast  lands  of  Mexico,  and  at 
Auckland  in  New  Zealand.  At  Pitcairn's  island, 
the  plantain  grove  has  beaten  the  missionary  from 
the  field  ;  there  is  much  lip  Christianity,  but  no 
practice  to  be  got  from  a  people  who  possess  the 
fatal  plant.  The  much-abused  cocoanut  cannot 
come  near  it  as  a  devil's  ngent.' " 

Such  are  the  results  of  eating  the  bread  of  idle- 
ness, and  yet  how  many  parents  toil,  and  save,  and 
hoard,  that  they  may  bring  up  their  children  in 
idleness,  and  leave  to  them  a  fortune  as  fatal  as  the 
banana  plant,  a  fortune  which  exempts  them  irom 
toil,  but  seduces  them  into  sin  ;  spares  them  from 
the  sorrows  of  want,  ami  the  curse  of  labour,  but 
which  dooms  them  to  the  bondage  of  sin  and  cor- 
ruption in  this  world,  and  the  vengeance  of  eternal 
fire  at  last. 

29.  Learn  little  from  the  experience  of  their 

parents. 

(810.)  Ah!  do  men  learn  by  the  experience  of 
others?  They  are  like  birds,  which  allow  them- 
selves to  be  caught  in  the  same  nets  in  which  already 
a  hundred  thousand  of  their  sjiecies  have  been 
caught.  There  is  no  one  who  does  not  enter  quite 
fresh  into  life,  and  the  follies  of  the  fathers  are  no 
warning  to  the  children.  — FonUnelU. 

30.  Their  discipline. 

(811.)  They  who  provide  much  wealth  for  their 
children,  but  neglect  to  improve  them  in  virtue,  do 
like  those  who  feed  their  horses  high,  but  never 
train  them  to  the  manage.  — Socraies. 

(812).  As  we  are  wont  to  slack  the  strings  of  our 
bows  and  lutes  to  make  them  thestiffer,  and  to  hold 
the  better  when  we  list  to  shoot  ux  play  :  so,  like- 
wise, it  is  needful  that  parents  and  schoolmasters 
should  require  no  more  of  their  children  and  scholars 
than  they  are  able  to  do,  lest  they  discourage  them 
and  make  them  to  hate  their  study  or  any  other 
thing  whereto  they  would  bring  them. 

—  Cawdray,  1598-1664. 

(813.)  In  order  to  form  the  minds  of  children, 
the  first  thing  to  be  done  is  lo  coiii/?ier  ilidr  -ciH. 
To  inform  the  understanding  is  a  work  of  time,  and 
must,  with  children,  proceed  by  slow  degrees,  as 
they  are  able  to  bear  it ;  but  the  subjecting  the  will 
must  be  done  at  once,  and  the  sooner  the  belter- ;  for, 
by  neglecting  timely  correction,  they  will  contract 
a  stubbornness  and  obstinacy  which  are  hardly  ever 
conquered,  and  not  without  using  such  severity  as 
would  be  as  painful  to  me  as  the  child.     In  tha 


CHILDREN. 


(     140    ) 


CHILDREN. 


esteem  of  the  world  they  pass  for  kind  and  indul- 
gent, whom  I  call  cruel^  parents,  who  permit  their 
children  to  get  habits  which  they  know  must  after- 
wards be  broken.  When  the  will  of  a  cliild  is 
subdued,  and  it  is  brought  to  revere  and  stand  in 
awe  of  its  parents,  then  a  great  many  childish  follies 
and  inadvertencies  may  be  passed  by.  Some  should 
be  overlooked,  and  others  mildly  reproved;  but  no 
7vilful  transgression  ought  to  be  forgiven  without 
such  chastisement,  less  or  more,  as  the  nature  and 
circumstances  of  the  offence  may  require.  I  insist 
upon  conquering  the  will  of  children  betimes,  be- 
cause tills  is  the  only  strong  and  rational  foundation 
of  a  religious  education,  without  which  both  precept 
and  example  will  be  ineffectual.  But  when  this  is 
thoroughly  done,  then  a  child  is  cajiable  of  being 
governed  by  the  reason  and  piety  of  its  parents  till 
its  own  understanding  comes  to  maturity,  and  the 
principles  of  religion  have  taken  root  in  the  mind. 
— Mrs.  S.   IVesley. 

(814.)  The  main  thing  to  be  considered  in  every 
action  of  a  child  is  how  it  will  become  him  wlien  he 
is  bigger,  and  whither  it  will  lead  him  when  he  is 
grown  up.  — Locke,  1632- 1704. 

(815.)  Discipline  should  respect  each  child  in 
particular  according  to  his  disposition.  In  the 
same  family  there  may  be  a  variety  of  tempers, 
which  will  require  a  varied  method  of  treatment, 
in  addition  to  the  general  principles  of  education 
which  will  ajiply  alike  to  all  minds.  And  therefore, 
as  the  farmer  consults  the  nature  of  his  land,  adapt- 
ing the  seed  to  the  soil  ;  and  as  the  physician 
studies  the  constitution  of  his  patient,  suiting  the 
remedy  to  the  disease  ;  so  ought  every  parent  to 
study  the  dispositions  of  all  his  children,  that  he 
may  adapt  his  discipline  to  the  particularities  of 
their  respective  tempers.  — James. 

31.  Their  correction. 

(816.)  A  father  is  as  it  were  a  prince  and  a  judge 
in  his  family :  there  he  gives  laws,  and  inflicts 
censures  and  punishments  upon  oflenders.  But 
how  misbecoming  a  thing  would  it  be  to  see  a 
judge  in  choler  pass  sentence  upon  a  man  ?  It  is  the 
same  thing  to  see  a  father  in  the  heat  and  fury  of 
his  passion  correct  his  child.  If  a  father  could 
but  see  himself  in  this  mood,  and  how  ill  his  passion 
becomes  him,  instead  of  being  angi^  with  his  child, 
he  would  be  out  of  patience  with  himself. 

— Tillotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

(817.)  Great  severities  do  often  woik  an  effect 
quite  contrary  to  that  which  was  intended.  And 
many  times  those  who  were  bred  up  in  a  very  severe 
school,  hate  learning  ever  after  for  the  sake  of  the 
cruelty  that  was  used  to  force  it  upon  them  :  and  so 
likewise  an  endeavour  to  bring  children  to  piety 
and  goodness  by  unreasonable  strictness  and  rigour, 
does  often  beget  in  them  a  lasting  disgust  and  pre- 
judice against  religion  ;  and  teaches  them,  as  Eras- 
mus says,  "  To  hate  virtue  at  the  same  time  that 
they  teach  them  to  know  it ; "  for  by  this  means 
virtue  is  represented  to  the  minds  of  children  under 
a  great  disadvantage,  and  good  and  evil  are  brought 
too  near  together,  so  that  whenever  they  think  of 
religion,  they  remember  the  severity  which  was 
wont  to  accompany  the  instructions  about  it  ;  and 
the  natural  hatred  which  men  have  lor  punisnment, 
is  by  this  means  derived  upon  religion  itself.      And 


indeed  how  can  it  be  expected  that  children  should 
love  their  duty  when  they  never  hear  of  it  but  with 
a  handful  of  rods  shook  over  them? 

I  insist  upon  this  the  more,  because  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  observed  more  notorious  instances 
of  great  miscarriage  than  in  the  children  of  very 
strict  and  severe  parents;  of  which  I  can  give  no 
other  account  but  this— that  nature  when  it  is  thus 
overcharged  recoils  the  more  terribly  ;  it  hath  some- 
thing in  it  like  the  spring  of  an  engine,  which  being 
forcibly  pressed,  does,  upon  the  first  liberty,  retur:; 
back  with  so  much  the  greater  violence.  In  like 
manner  the  vicious  dispositions  of  children,  when 
restrained  merely  by  the  severity  of  parents,  do 
break  forth  strangely  as  soon  as  ever  they  get  loose 
and  from  under  their  discipline. 

—  Tillotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

(818.)  I  would  not  have  children  much  beaten  for 
their  faults,  because  1  would  not  have  them  think 
bodily  pain  the  greatest  punishment. 

— Locke,  1 632- 1 704. 

(819.)  If  a  child,  when  questioned  for  anything, 
directly  confess,  you  must  commend  his  ingenuity, 
and  pardon  the  fault,  be  it  what  it  will. 

— Lock;  1 632-1 704. 

(820.)  Excess  of  severity  is  one  danger.  My 
mother,  on  the  contrary,  would  talk  to  me,  and 
weep  as  she  talked.  I  flung  out  of  thv^  house  with 
an  oath  ;  but  wept  too  when  I  got  into  the  street. 
Sympathy  is  the  powerful  engine  of  a  mother.  I 
was  desperate  :  I  would  go  on  board  a  privateer. 
But  there  are  soft  moments  to  such  desperadoes. 
God  does  not,  at  once,  abandon  them  to  themselves. 
There  are  times  when  the  man  says  — "  I  should  be 
glad  to  return  ;  but  I  should  not  like  to  meet  that 
face  !  "  if  he  has  been  treated  with  severity. 

Yet  excess  of  laxity  is  another  danger.  The  case 
of  Eli  affords  a  serious  warning  on  this  subiect. 
Instead  of  his  mild  expostulation  on  the  flagiant 
wickedness  of  his  sons^"  Nay,  my  sons,  it  is  no 
good  report  that  I  hear" — he  ought  to  have  exer- 
cised his  authority  as  a  parent  and  magistrate  in 
punishing  and  restraining  their  crimes, 

—  Cecil,  1 748-18 10. 

(821.)  Be  very  gentle  with  the  children  God  has 
given  you  ;  watch  over  them  constantly  ;  reprove 
them  earnestly,  but  not  in  anger.  In  the  forcible 
language  of  Scripture,  "  Be  not  bitter  against  them." 
"Yes,  they  are  good  boys,"  I  once  heard  a  kind 
father  say  ;  "  I  talk  to  them  very  much,  but  do  not 
like  to  beat  my  children — the  world  will  beat  them." 
It  was  a  beautiful  thought,  though  not  elegantly 
expressed.  Yes  :  there  is  not  one  child  in  the  circle 
round  the  table,  healthful  and  happy  as  they  look 
now,  on  whose  head,  if  long  enough  sjiared,  the 
storm  will  not  beat.  Adversity  may  wither  them, 
sickness  may  fade,  a  cold  world  may  frown  on  them, 
but  amidst  all  let  memory  carry  them  back  to  a 
home  where  the  law  of  kindness  reigned,  where  the 
mother's  reproving  eye  was  moistened  with  a  tear, 
and  the  father  frowned  "more  in  sorrow  than  in 
I  anger."  — Elihu  Burritt. 

32.  Should  be  trusted. 

(822.)  Give  a  dog  a  bad  name — and  hang  him. 
Treat  a  man  as  a  rascal  and  his  moral  character  will 
have  to  be  founded  on  adamantine  virtue,  or  it  will 
split.     There  was  never  a  schoolmaster  who  trusted 


CHILDREN. 


(     141     ) 


CHILDREN, 


an  to  his  own  shrewdness  and  nothing  to  the  chil- 
dren's honour  that  did  not  have  a  tricky  lot  of 
scholars.  "  As  well  have  the  game  as  the  name," 
is  more  than  a  poacher's  proverb.  On  the  contrary, 
while  trustfulness  is  liable  to  imposition,  persistent 
confidence  breeds  honour  and  not  deceit,  certainly 
in  the  long  run.  "There's  no  use  in  lying  to  the 
Doctor,"  said  the  boys  of  Rugby,  in  good  old  Ur. 
Arnold's  time ;  *'  he  believes  everything  you  say  ! " 

— Staivin. 

83.  Sbonld  be  encouraged  In  Tlrtuous  actions. 

(823.)  Encourage  that  which  you  see  good  and 
commendable  in  your  children.  Virtus  laudata 
crescit.  Commending  that  which  is  good  in  your 
children,  makes  them  more  in  love  with  virtuous 
actions ;  and  is  like  the  watering  of  plants,  which 
makes  them  grow  more.  — WaUoHf  1696. 

54.  Suffer  for  their  parents'  sins. 

(824.)  This  is  a  truth  evident  by  universal  experi- 
ence. It  is  seen  every  day,  in  every  part  of  the 
world.  If  Mr.  Paine  indulge  in  intemperance,  and 
leave  children  behind  him,  they  may  feel  the  con- 
sequences of  his  misconduct  when  he  is  in  the  grave. 
The  sins  of  the  father  may  thus  be  visited  upon  the 
children  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation.  It 
would,  however,  be  their  affliction  only,  and  not 
•Jieir  punishment.  Yet  such  visitations  are  wisely 
srdered  as  a  motive  to  sobriety. 

— Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815. 

55.  A  reason  for  parental  solicitude  on  their 
behalf. 

(825.)  Consider  what  a  sad  inheritance  you  have 
conveyed  to  your  children.  You  have  transmitted 
to  them  corrupt  and  depraved  natures,  evjj  and 
vicious  inclinations  :  you  have  begotten  them  in 
your  own  image  and  likeness,  so  that  by  nature 
they  are  children  of  wrath.  Now,  methinks, 
parents  that  have  a  due  sense  of  this  should  be 
very  solicitous,  by  the  best  means  they  can  use,  to 
free  them  from  that  curse ;  by  endeavouring  to 
correct  those  perverse  dispositions,  and  cursed  in- 
clinations, which  they  have  transmitted  to  them. 
Surely  you  ought  to  do  all  you  can  to  repair  that 
broken  estate  which  from  you  is  descended  upon 
them. 

When  a  man  hath  by  treason  tainted  his  blood 
and  forfeited  his  estate,  with  what  grief  and  regret 
doth  he  look  upon  his  cliildren,  and  think  of  the 
injury  he  hath  done  to  them  by  his  fault  ;  and  how 
solicitous  is  he,  before  he  die,  to  petition  the  king 
for  favour  to  his  children  ;  how  earnestly  doth  he 
charge  his  friends  to  be  careful  of  them  and  kind  to 
them  ;  that  by  these  means  he  may  make  the  best 
reparation  he  can  of  their  lortune  which  hath  been 
ruined  by  his  fault. 

And  have  parents  such  a  tenderness  for  their  chil- 
dren, in  reference  to  their  estate  and  condition  in 
this  world  ;  and  have  they  none  for  the  good  estate 
of  their  souls  and  their  eternal  condition  in  another 
world?  If  you  are  sensible  that  their  blood  is 
.ainted,  and  that  their  best  fortunes  are  ruined  by 
your  saJ  misfortune,  why  do  you  not  bestir  your- 
selves for  the  repairing  of  God's  image  in  them? 
Why  do  you  not  travail  in  birth  till  Christ  be 
formed  in  them  ?  Why  do  you  not  pray  earnestly 
to  God,  and  give  Him  no  rest,  who  hath  reprieved, 
and,  it  may  be,  pardoned  you,  that  He  would  ex- 


tend His  grace  to  them  also,  and  grant  them  tlie 
blessings  of  His  new  covenant  ? 

—  Tillotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

36.  Are  not  to  be  apprenticed  to  ungodly 
masters. 

(826.)  Think  how  precious  the  soul  of  your  child 
is.  It  is  immortal,  it  is  capable  of  communion  with 
God  and  angels  :  and  will  you  let  this  soul  be  lost, 
by  placing  it  in  a  bad  family?  If  you  had  a  horse 
you  loved,  you  would  not  put  him  into  a  stable  with 
other  horses  that  were  sick  and  diseased  ;  and  do 
you  not  love  your  child  better  than  your  horse  ? 
—  iVatson,  1696, 

37.  Tbeir  Influence  for  good. 

(827.)  Children  are  not  apt  to  remember  how 
much  good  they  can  do  merely  with  words  they  can 
speak.  Sometimes  I  think  they  can  do  even  more 
than  men  and  women  ;  for  nobody  is  half  as  likely  to 
be  angry  with  a  child  for  telling  him  what  he  ought 
not  to  do  as  he  would,  perhaps,  be  with  a  minister 
or  some  older  person.  I  have  known  the  hardest 
sort  of  people  to  be  quite  kind  and  thoughtful  when 
rebuked  by  those  who  were  too  small  for  them  to 
strike  or  curse  for  being  faithful. 

Not  long  ago,  I  read,  there  was  a  Highland  boy 
sitting  on  the  door-stone,  with  some  half-dozen 
others.  They  were  singing  Sunday-school  hymns. 
Along  came  a  half-drunken  man,  who  said  with  an 
awful  oath,  "  Does  your  master  teach  you  nothing 
better  than  these  silly  songs?"  When  up  spoke 
this  sharp  little  fellow,  six  years  old  :  "  Why,  yes, 
sir.  He  teaches  us  it  is  wicked  for  any  one  to 
swear  I"  The  man  hurried  on  silently,  as  if  he 
were  ashamed  ;  and  afterwards  told  how  he  had 
become  a  better  man  because  of  the  rebuke  the 
child  gave  him. 

There  was  a  great  and  good  man  lecturing  in 
London  ;  and  he  happened  to  say  :  "  Everybody 
has  influence;  even  that  little  girl."  And  as  he 
said  this,  he  pointed  to  a  child  sitting  on  her 
father's  knee.  "That  is  true,"  said  the  man,  right 
out  in  the  meeting.  Afterward  he  waited  to  make 
an  apology  for  the  interruption.  "  I  could  not  help 
speaking,"  he  said.  "  I  used  to  be  a  drunkard, 
and  this  little  girl  of  mine  pleaded  with  me  to  stop 
going  to  the  ale-house.  I  was  angry,  and  knocked 
her  down.  But  she  got  up  and  came  straight  to 
me,  saying:  ''Twasn't  you,  father,  but  the  rum, 
that  struck  me.'  And  I  felt  so  sorry  that  I  never 
went  again.  This  little  child  is  my  very  best  friend 
in  the  world."  — C".  S.  Robinson. 

(82S.)  A  few  days  I  saw  a  large,  strong  man  come 
forward  as  a  candidate  for  church  membership.  By 
the  hand  he  held  a  fair,  delicate  child  of  nine  years, 
and  pointing  to  her  as  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks,  he  said  :  "  She  showed  me  the  way.  I  knew 
I  was  a  sinner,  and  needed  the  pardon  and  sanctifi- 
cation,  but  I  kept  putting  the  matter  off.  I  heard 
the  most  poweriul  sermons,  but  would  say  :  '  Go 
thy  way  for  this  time.'  My  pious  wife  entreated  me 
to  be  reconciled  to  Jesus,  but  I  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
all  her  persuasions.  But  when  my  little  daughter 
came  again  and  again,  and  putting  her  loving  little 
arms  about  my  neck  would  say,  '  Dear  father,  wont 
you  go  to  heaven,  too?  Father,  you  don't  know 
how  good  Jesus  is.  O  father  !  i  le  died  for  you  and 
me  ;  can't  you  love  Him  ? ' — I  could  resist  no  longer  ; 
and  bkii^ied  be  the  Cod  of  my  dear  child.   He  ia 


CHILDREN. 


(     142    ) 


CHILDREN. 


mine  too  now,  and  shall  be  mine  to  all  eternity." 
Thus  was  the  father's  soul  saved  through  the  prayers 
and  entreaties  of  a  little  child. 

38.  Their  death. 

(829.)  If  a  young  man,  or  if  a  young  daughter  die, 
what  a  great  mourning  beginneth  there  to  be  ! 
"Alas  !  he  is  takt-n  away  in  his  young  days  before 
his  time  ;  he  should  first  liave  been  married,  and 
had  a  good  wile  upon  earth,  and  in  his  last  age  have 
died  in  peace  and  rest."'  Hereof  cometh  it  that  we 
think  the  death  of  children  to  be  unnatural,  even  as 
when  the  flame  of  fire  through  water  is  violently 
quenched.  The  death  of  the  aged  we  think  to  be 
natural,  as  when  the  fire  quencheth  of  itself,  accord- 
ing to  the  saying  of  Cicero.  The  death  of  young 
persons  is  compared  to  unripe  apples  that  with 
violence  are  plucked  off  from  the  tree  :  the  death  of 
the  aged  is  thought  to  be  as  when  ripe  apples 
fall  down  of  themselves. 

If  God  had  promised  every  one  a  long  life,  then 
mightest  thou  complain  at  the  shortening  of  the  life 
of  thyself  or  of  thy  friends  against  God's  promise. 
No  man  hath  cause  to  complain  of  an  untimely 
death  ;  whatsoever  one  hath  lived  over  and  beside 
the  first  day  of  his  birth,  it  is  an  increase. 

Moreover,  though  we  remain  a  long  season  in  this 
fickle  transitory  life,  yet  is  all  our  time  but  shoit, 
especially  towards  the  endless  eternity.  Therefore 
it  nalh  but  a  slender  dJiference  to  depart  hence  in 
youth,  or  in  age. 

He  tliat  is  upon  the  sea,  and  with  a  good  strong 
wind  is  carried  soon  to  the  haven  where  he  would 
be,  is  happier  than  he  that  for  lack  of  wind  is  fain 
to  sail  still  many  days  upon  the  sea  with  much 
trouble  and  weariness.  Even  so  the  more  happy  is 
he,  whom  death  taketh  away  from  the  stormy  sea  of 
this  world.  Seeing  there  is  set  before  us  a  uni- 
versal native  country,  and  he  that  is  long  in  going 
thither  obtaineth  no  more  than  he  that  is  speedily 
gone  thither  beforehand  ;  should  not  one  wish  that 
he  had  soon  overcome  the  foul  dangerous  way  that 
leadeth  to  the  heavenly  harbour? 

The  sooner  one  pay.^th  his  debt,  the  better  it  is. 
If  there  were  none  other  remedy,  but  that  with  an 
hundred  more  thou  must  needs  be  beheaded,  and 
*hou  art  the  first  th?t  is  put  to  execution,  art  thou 
not  then  the  first  that  is  dispatched  of  the  pain  ? 

—  /  Vert/itdlerus,  1 5  5 1 . 

(830.)  If  a  great  lord  had  called  thee  and  thy  son, 
and  promised  fiiee  much  wealth  and  good,  shouldst 
thou  weep  when  thy  son  goeth  to  him,  and  thou 
thyself  wilt  shortly  follow  after?  IS'o,  verily;  but 
thou  wouldst  order  thy  matter  so  that  thou  mightest 
be  there  oat  of  hand.  Why  unquietest  thou  thyself 
then  so  sore  for  the  death  of  thy  son  or  friend  ?  The 
Almighvv  lord  hath  called  him  and  thee  to  His 
eternal  kingdom,  to  place  thee  and  him  among  the 
princes  of  heaven.  Thy  son  passeth  hence  through 
the  gutes  of  death  ;  he  shall  rise  again  to  honour. 
Wh)'  vexest  thou  then  thyself?  Why  orderest  not 
thou  hyself  joyfully  to  follow  him?  for  thou  hast 
net  lost  him,  but  only  sent  him  before.  If  it  were 
possible  that  thy  son  knew  of  thy  immeasurable 
wailing,  and  could  speak  unto  thee,  without  all 
doubt  he  himself  would  rebuke  it. 

—  I'Vermullerus,  I55'' 

(831.)  Ye  have  lost  a  child  ;  nay,  she  is  not  lost 
to  you,  w\o  is  found  vs  Chris'  -,  she  is  not  sent 


away,  but  only  sent  before  ;  like  unto  a  star  which, 
going  out  of  sight,  does  not  die  and  vanish,  but 
shines  in  another  hemisphere. 

— Rutherford,  1661.     " 

(832.)  Ah  !  we  sometimes,  I  fear,  compel  Jesus 
to  take  "away"  our  children,  that  through  the 
bereavement  He  may  overcome  and  melt  savingly 
our  callous  hearts.  It  mindeth  me  of  another  little 
story  worth  telling.  A  shepherd  had  folded  safely 
and  well  a  flock  of  ewes — all  save  one,  which  would 
not  enter,  do  what  he  would.  The  gate  was  flung 
wide  open,  and  with  all  gentle  constraint  he  sought 
to  guide  it  in — sparing  it  the  rough  bark  of  his  dog. 
But  no  !  still  it  would  run  back.  At  last,  for  the 
shades  of  evening  were  falling,  and  folded  all  must 
be,  if  he  were  not  to  be  "too  late"  for  home  him- 
self— he  sprang  out,  seized  her  lamb,  raised  it 
tenderly  to  his  bosom,  laid  it  right  upon  his  heart 
as  he  would  his  own  nestling  babe,  and  carrying  it 
within  the  fold,  placed  it  down  there.  Then,  ah  ! 
then  the  poor  ewe  ran  in — ran  in  after  her  little 
lamb,  and  was  safe  with  it.  It  is  a  parable.  But 
fathers !  mothers !  still  away  from  the  Good 
Shepherd,  and  grieving  sorely  over  your  Willie  or 
Mary,  will  you  not  run  in  after  your  little  lamb? 
Will  you  compel  Him  to  take  another  and  another? 

—  Grosart. 

(833.)  God  cultivates  many  flowers,  seemingly 
only  for  their  exquisite  beauty  and  fragrance.  For 
when,  bathed  in  soft  sunshine,  they  have  burst  into 
blossom,  then  the  Divine  hand  gathers  them  from 
the  earthly  fields  to  be  kept  in  crystal  vases  in  the 
deathle.ss  mansions  above.  Thus  little  children  die 
— some  in  the  sweet  bud,  some  in  the  fuller  blossom  ; 
but  never  too  early  to  make  heaven  fairer  and 
sweeter  with  their  immortal  bloom. 

—  tVadnvortk. 

39.  Death  of  an  Infidel's  child. 

(834.)  As  Lucy lay  on  her  sick  bed,  all  that 

a  tender  mother  could  do  to  mitigate  pain,  or  to 
restore  God's  gift  of  health,  was  done  in  vain.  The 
angel  of  death  was  on  the  threshold,  prepared  to 
take  the  child  through  the  dark  valley  to  her  eternal 
home.  She  had  lain  some  hours  still ;  at  last  she 
roused  up  and  saw  her  parents  watching,  one  on 
either  side  of  the  bed.  She  looked  at  them  both 
with  penetrating  gaze  which  is  so  often  seen  in  eyes 
that  are  soon  to  close  on  all  mortal  sights,  and  said, 
reaching  out  her  hand  feebly  towards  her  father  : 
"  Father,  I'm  sure  I'm  dying — 1  feel  I  am.  What 
would  you  wish  me  to  believe?  what  you  have 
taught  about  Jesus?"  The  man  shook  from  head 
to  foot,  as  if  smitten  through  with  a  dart.  He 
answered  :  "  Oh  Lucy  dear,  believe  what  your 
mother  has  taught  you."  "Ah — yes  !  then  that  is — 
is  true — true,  mother  dear;  He's  your  Jesus  and 
1  le's  mine."  She  spoke  with  difficulty  ;  a  cough  im- 
peded her  utterance.  For  a  few  minutes  all  were 
still,  then  there  was  one  look,  one  smile,  the  quiver- 
ing lips  whispered  :   "  Blessed  Je" Angel  ears 

alone  heard  the  finish  of  the  sentence,  as  the  s  )ul 
went  up  to  heaven.  Creeping  on  her  knees  round 
the  bed  to  her  husband's  side,  the  wife  took  his 
hand,  and  said,  "  He  was  her  Jesus  ;  He  is  mine  ; 
He  wants  to  be  yours.  Oh,  pray — pray,  let  me 
beseech  you — pray  this  prayer  :  *  Lord,  I  believe  ; 
help  Thou  my  unbelief.' "  .  .  .  Some  years  have 
passed  since  the  scene  recorded,  and  the  infidel 
father  has  become  a  humble  happy  Chris  Jan. 


CHRIST. 


(    143    ) 


CHRIST. 


CHRIST. 

I.    HIS  DEITY. 

1.  Tbe  doctrine  of  His  Deity  perrades  the  New 

Testament. 

(835.)  So  thoroughly  intermingled  with  the  whole 
texture  of  New  Testament  Scripture  is  the  Godhead 
of  the  Saviour,  that  no  criticism  which  does  not 
destroy  the  book  can  altogether  extinugish  its  testi- 
mony. We  have  seen  a  copy  of  the  Gospels  and 
Epistles  which  was  warranted  free  from  all  trace  of 
the  Trinity,  but  it  was  not  the  Testament  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  We  beheld  it,  and 
we  received  instruction.  It  did  not  want  beauty  ; 
for  the  parables,  and  the  sermon  on  the  mount,  and 
many  a  touching  passage,  still  were  there.  But 
neither  would  a  garden  want  beauty  if  the  grass- 
plots  and  green  bushes  still  remained,  though  you 
had  carefully  called  out  every  blossoming  flower. 
The  humanity  of  Jesus  still  is  beautiful,  even  when 
the  Godhead  is  forgotten  or  denied.  Or  rather  it 
looked  like  a  coronation  tapestry,  with  all  the 
golden  turcHds  torn  out,  or  an  exquisite  mosaic 
from  whicli  some  unscrupulous  finger  had  abstracted 
the  gems  and  only  left  the  common  stones :  you  not 
only  missed  the  glory  of  the  whole,  but  in  the  frac- 
tures of  t'oe  peace  and  the  coarse  plaster  with  which 
the  gaps  'were  supplied,  you  saw  how  rude  was  the 

frocess  by  which  its  jewels  had  been  wrenched  away, 
t  wag  a  casket  without  the  pearl.  It  was  a  shrine 
without  the  Shekinah.  And  yet,  after  all, it  was  not 
sufficiently  expurgated  ;  for  after  reading  it,  the 
thought  would  recur,  how  much  easier  to  fabricate  a 
Gnostic  Testament  exempt  from  all  trace  of  our 
Lord's  humanity,  than  a  Trinitarian  Testament  ig- 
noring Hi"  Divinity.         — Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

2.  The  doctrine  of  His  Deltj  Is  essential  to  onr 
respect  for  Him. 

(836.)  Whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  the  question 
as  to  the  divinity  of  Christ,  textually,  and  upon  the 
lower  grounds  of  philosophy,  it  seems  impossible  to 
me  to  accept  Jesus  as  a  mere  man  without  throwing 
out  the  most  striking  elements  of  His  character. 
All  those  things  which  lift  themselves  above  the 
ordinary  horizon  of  an  instructor,  and  leave  us 
almost  gasping  by  their  boldness,  must  be  left  out, 
if  we  so  regard  Him.  Christ  must  have  been  either 
insane  or  Divine.  If  he  was  a  man,  for  Him  to  have 
made  such  claims  for  Himself  as  He  did  indicated 
insanity.  On  the  supposition  that  He  was  Divine, 
these  claims  are  rational,  and  indicate  a  Being 
transcending  the  measure  of  a  man.  He  was  our 
exemplar  of  the  Father.  He  was  the  manifestation 
of  God  to  men.  He  epitomised  in  Himself  the  uni- 
versal. The  obscure  in  His  teaching  is  that  in 
which  He  glides  from  the  local  and  temporary  to 
higher  things,  that  in  their  nature  are  universal, 
and  arc  therefore  difficult  of  comprehension  by  us. 
"lam  the  way," — I  am  a  practical  development. 
"I  am  the  truth," — I  represent  the  reality.  "I 
am  the  life," — not  an  abstraction,  not  a  system,  do 
I  bring  ;  I  bring  the  life  itself.  1  represent  to  the 
world,  by  a  practical  life,  the  great  elements  which 
concern  the  world  to  come.  He  stands  for  system, 
for  practice,  and  for  being,  all  at  once. 

— Bexher. 

%.  Proofs  of  His  Deity. 

(l.)  His  unchan^eabUness. 

(837.)  Caesar  '%    not  Csesar  still,  nor  Alexander 


Alexander  still ;  but  Jesus  is  Jesus  still,  and  shaJl 
be  for  ever  (Heb.  xiii.  8).      —Donne,  1573-1631. 

(2.)    The  Stat fments  of  the  Gospels  concerning  Him. 

{838.)  He  was  oppressed  with  hunger;  but  He 
feeds  the  thousands  in  the  desert,  and  He  is  the  liv- 
ing  and  celestial  Bread.  He  was  parched  with 
thirst;  but  He  cried  aloud,  "  If  any  one  thirst,  let 
him  come  unto  Me,  and  drink  ; "  and  He  promised 
to  be  a  fountain  unto  believers.  He  was  iveaiy ; 
but  He  was  the  rest  of  those  who  are  "  weary  and 
heavy-laden."  He  was  weighed  down  with  sleep; 
but  He  walked  lightly  on  the  wave,  and  He  rebuked 
the  winds,  and  He  bare  up  Peter  from  the  rolling 

billows If  the    things   which    evince    His 

humanity  have  afforded  thee  a  pretext  for  error,  let 
the  circumstances  which  attest  His  Divinity  remove 
thy  mistake.  — Gregory  Nazianzen. 

(3. )  His  ittfiuence  on  human  affairs. 

(839.)  I  want  to  call  your  attention  to  His  influ- 
ence in  human  affairs  as  an  element  of  progress. 
If  I  have  read  history  aright,  that  influence  saved 
the  world.  Nothing  else  could  have  done  it.  If 
Christ  was  only  a  man,  then  we  have  such  a  leader 
as  we  have  no  examples  of.  Was  it  possible  that  a 
man  should  preach  sermons  that  should  be  univer- 
salised  ?  Vet  Christ's  have  been.  If  He  was  only 
a  Hebrew  reformer,  though  he  had  been  inspired 
of  God,  though  He  has  spoken  with  clarion  notes, 
though  he  had  thundered  with  supreme  honesty  and 
boldness,  yet  would  His  influence  have  died  away. 
If  He  was  a  prophet,  then  He  would  take  His  place 
among  the  prophets,  and  we  should  look  upon  Him, 
as  upon  Moses,  Isaiah,  and  Ezekiel.  Yet  did  these 
prophets  but  typify  and  foretell  His  coming.  Bui 
if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  look  upon  Him  as  Divine, 
if  we  believe  that  in  some  fashion  the  power  of  God 
the  Father  was  resident  in  Him,  then  we  should  have 
a  right  to  see  an  influence  that  never  wanes,  a  voice 
that  never  stills,  a  fulfilment  of  all  prophecies,  an 
utter  change  in  the  fashion  of  the  world's  politics, 
science,  and  its  philosophy.  And  this  is  exactly 
what  has  occurred.  The  great  men  whom  we  have 
heard  and  have  honoured  sink  into  pigmies  if  you 
but  compare  them  with  Christ.  A  moment  before 
towering  above  the  average  of  humanity  like  moun- 
tain peaks,  now  they  shrink  and  wane  into  mole-hills 
before  the  great  presence  of  the  mighty  Christ.  Who 
is  Luther,  pray  you,  but  the  lowliest  follower  of 
Christ  ?  And  who,  pray,  is  Calvin  F  and  who  are  all 
those  grand  heroes  of  past  ages,  at  whose  mention 
our  blood  thrills — who  are  all  the  great  and  the 
good  who  haVe  stood  up  and  suflered  for  the  truth  ? 
Are  they  Christ's,  or  what  ?  They  are  no  more  to 
be  compared  to  Him,  than  the  petty  rushlight's 
flame  to  the  broad  zone  of  light  that  streams  from 
the  great  sun.  Christ  leads,  they  follow.  He  com- 
mands, they  obey.  He  stands  among  them,  they 
kneel  in  humblest  adoration.  — Hepun>>h. 

(4.)   His  demands  upon  the  soul, 

(840.)  Across  a  chasm  of  eighteen  hundred  years 
Jesus  Christ  makes  a  demand  which  is  beyond  all 
others  difficult  to  satisfy  :  He  asks  that  for  which  a 
philosopher  may  often  seek  in  vain  at  the  hands  of 
his  friends,  or  a  father  of  his  children,  or  a  bride  of 
her  spouse,  or  a  man  of  his  brother  :  He  asks  for 
the  human  heart  :  He  will  have  it  entirely  to  Him- 
self :  He  demands  it  unconditionally  ;  and  forth- 
with his  demand  is  granted.  Wonderful  !  In 
defiance  of  time  and  .space,  the  soul  of  man,  with 


CHRIST. 


(    144    ) 


chr:st. 


•n  its  powers  and  faculties,  becomes  an  annexation 
to  the  empire  of  Christ.  All  who  sincerely  believe 
in  Him  experience  that  remarkable  supernatural 
love  towards  Him.  This  phenomenon  is  unac- 
countable ;  it  is  altogether  beyond  the  scope  of 
man's  creative  power.  Time,  the  great  destroyer, 
is  powerless  to  extinguish  this  sacred  flame  :  time 
■can  neither  exhaust  its  strength  nor  put  a  limit  to 
its  range.  This  is  which  strikes  me  most.  I  have 
often  thought  of  it.  This  it  is  which  proves  to  me 
quite  convincingly  the  Divinity  of  Jesus  Christ. 

— Napoleon  I. 

(5,)  His  influence  on  the  soul. 

(841.)  As  there  can  be  no  argument  of  chemistry 
in  proof  of  odours  like  a  present  perfume  itself ;  as 
the  shining  of  the  stars  is  a  better  proof  of  their 
existence  than  the  figures  of  an  astronomer  ;  as  the 
restored  health  of  his  patients  is  a  better  argument 
of  skill  in  a  physician  than  laboured  examinations 
and  certificates  ;  as  the  testimony  of  the  almanack 
that  summer  comes  with  June  is  not  so  convincing 
as  is  the  coming  of  summer  itself  in  the  sky,  in  the 
air,  in  the  fields,  on  hill  and  mountain :  so  the 
power  of  Christ  upon  the  human  soul  is  to  the  soul 
evidence  of  His  divinity,  based  upon  a  living  ex- 
perience, and  transcending  in  conclusiveness  any  con- 
victions of  the  intellect  alone,  founded  upon  a  con- 
templation of  mere  ideas,  however  just  and  sound. 

If  Christ  is  the  wisdom  of  God  and  the  power  of 
God  in  the  experience  of  those  who  trust  and  love 
Him,  there  needs  no  further  argument  of  His 
Divinity.  — Beecher, 

(842.)  The  Deity  of  the  Son  of  God  is,  to  me,  not 
proved  merely  in  propositions.  I  believe  that  he 
who  believes  in  the  Godhead  of  Jesus  Christ  has  all 
history,  all  etymology,  all  philosophy,  and  all  true 
reading  of  the  case  entirely  on  his  side.  But  I  do 
not  look  to  propositions,  to  logical  formulae,  to  any 
bare  statements,  however  exact,  for  the  proof  and 
confirmation  that  this  claim,  now  read  as  my  text, 
is  a  claim  founded  in  righteousness.  Do  you  think 
that  I  build  my  hopes  of  eternity  upon  some  little 
etymological  technicality?  Do  you  suppose  that 
my  dependence  is  founded  altogether  upon  the  con- 
struction of  a  phrase  or  the  mood  and  tense  of  a 
verb  ?  We  have  nothing  to  fear  from  that  side  of 
the  argument,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  collate 
the  testimonies  of  competent  men.  But  I  do  not 
rely  upon  it  in  preaching  the  deity  of  the  Son  of 
God,  and  in  committing  myself  to  the  great  claim 
which  Jesus  makes  in  tliis  text  on  behalf  of  His  own 
nature.  What  do  I  trust  then  ?  The  tnoral  reach, 
the  spiritual  compass,  the  indefinable  and  inex- 
pressible sympathy  of  the  man.  When  He  touched 
my  heart  into  life,  I  did  not  say,  "  Hand  me  down 
the  Greek  grammar  and  the  Hebrew  lexicon,  and 
three  volumes  of  the  encyclopedia,  to  see  how  this 
really  stands."  I  did  not  say,  "  Let  me  see  what 
the  '  Fathers'  have  said  about  this."  I  knew  it  to 
be  a  fact.  Nobody  ever  did  for  me  what  He  has 
done.  Once  I  was  blind,  now  I  see.  1  go  to  other 
men — writers,  speakers,  teachers — hear  what  they 
have  to  say,  and  behold,  they  are  broken  cisterns 
that  can  hold  no  water.  I  go  to  the  Son  of  God, 
whose  teaching  is  written  in  the  New  Testament, 
and  it  gets  into  the  deep  places  of  my  life  ;  it  re- 
deems me  ;  it  goes  further  than  any  other  influence 
and  does  more  for  me  than  any  other  attempt  that 
evei  was  made  to  recover  and  bless  my  life.  It  is, 
therefore,  10  this  great  sweep  of  His,  in  this  reply 


to  every  demand  that  is  made  upon  His  resources, 
this  infinite  suflSciency  of  His  grace,  that  I  find  the 
exposition  and  the  defence  of  His  Godhead.  Some 
things  must  he  felt ;  some  things  must  be  laid  hold 
of  by  sympathy,  affection,  sensibility.  The  heart  is 
in  some  cases  a  greater  interpreter  than  the  under- 
standing. There  is  a  time  when  logic  has  to  say, 
"  I  can  do  no  more  for  you  ;  do  the  best  you  can 
for  yourself  1 "  Then  love  goes  forward,  and  neces- 
sity feels  it ;  and  it  is  in  that  further  insight  and 
penetration  that  the  Godhead  of  the  Nazarene,  aa 
it  appears  to  me,  is  vindicated  and  glorified. 

Shall  a  man  say  to  me  this  morning,  I  thought, 
as  I  was  looking  out  upon  the  sunny  scene,  that  he 
will  prove  to  me  that  the  firmament  is  the  symbol 
of  infinity?  I  had  in  my  imagination  such  a  person 
calling  upon  me  this  morning.  He  said  he  had 
come  for  the  purpose  of  proving  to  me  that  the 
firmament  was  about  the  best  natural  symbol  of 
infinity  that  we  have.  And  he  proceeded, — what 
to  do?  To  take  out  of  his  side-pocket  a  little  foot- 
rule  ;  and  he  said,  "Now  let  me  prove  this  to  you." 
And  he  laid  the  foot-rule  upon  one  end  of  the 
horizon,  began  to  count,  "One — two — three."  And 
I  left  him  there  saying,  "  A  plague  on  your  foot- 
rule  ;  and  upon  your  owTi  thick  head  too  !  I  feel 
it !  I  feel  what  the  firmament  is !  Away  with 
you  ! "  I  know  that  that  firmament  is  to  me,  from 
a  natural  point  of  view,  infinite.  I  feel  it.  If  no 
foot-rule  had  ever  been  invented,  I  should  have 
known  that  that  great  arch,  full  of  light,  all  but 
translucent,  almost  letting  heaven  come  through  it, 
is  God's  natural  symbol  of  the  Infinite  ! 

As  I  looked  upon  the  sun  this  November  morn- 
ing, shining  through  some  beautiful  blue  clouds,  a 
man  called  upon  me  to  prove  that  that  sun  was,  in 
his  judgment,  so  far  as  he  could  make  out  by  "  the 
tables,"  about  sufficient  to  light  the  world.  He 
turned  over  long  pages  of  logarithms,  and  tables  of 
various  kinds,  fractions  and  decimals,  and  long  pro- 
cessions of  figures  ;  he  asked  me  for  a  slate  and  a 
pencil,  and  he  was  going  to  make  it  out  to  my 
satisfaction  that  the  sun  was  just  about  sufficient  to 
enlighten  a  hemisphere  at  a  time.  I  ordered  him 
offl  Why?  I  saiv\\.;  \  felt  it;  the  whole  thing 
was  before  me,  and  if  that  man  had  never  been 
born,  and  the  slate  had  never  been  made,  I  should 
have  known  that  this  great  sun  poured  light  upon 
the  earth  until  there  was  not  room  enough  to  receive 
it,  and  that  the  splendour  ran  off  at  the  edges  and 
flamed  upon  other  stars  !  And  yet  sometimes  men 
call  ujion  us  with  slates,  pencils,  sponges,  for  the 
purpose  of  showing  us  by  their  calculations  that 
Jesus  Christ  cannot  be  God  the  Son.  I  have  lived 
long  enough  to  know  that  He  is  God  enough  for  me. 
What  more  can  I  want  ?  He  raises  the  dead  ;  He 
redeems  my  life  from  destruction ;  He  fills  the 
mouth  with  good  things  ;  He  numbers  the  hairs  of 
my  head  ;  He  carries  me  up-hill  many  a  time  when 
I  am  weary  and  the  wind  is  bleak  ;  He  visits  me  in 
my  distress  and  affliction.     His  words  are — 

"  Music  in  the  sinner's  ear- 
And  life,  and  health,  and  peace  1" 

My  Lord  !  My  God  !  I  will  not  receive  Thee  merely 
through  grammars,  technical  discussions,  and  "  van« 
ous  readings."  I  will  receive  Thee  because  when 
Thou  dost  come  i^to  my  heart,  I  know  that  all  the 
heaven  that  I  cin  contain  is  alreadywithin  me  when 
Thou  art  neai.     My  Lord  I  and  my  God  ! 

—Joseph  Parker. 


CHRIST. 


(    145    ) 


CHRIST. 


(843.)  If  Christ  be  not  Divine,  every  impulse  of 
the  Christian  worid  falls  to  a  lower  octave,  and 
light  and  love  and  hope  alike  decline. 

— David  Swing. 

4.  Rendered  it  impossible  that  He  should  be 
holden  of  death. 

(844.)  The  hypostatical  union  of  Christ's  human 
nature  to  His  Divine,  rendered  a  perpetual  duration 
under  death  absolutely  impossible.  For  how  could 
that  which  was  united  to  the  great  source  and 
principle  of  life  be  finally  prevailed  over  by  death, 
and  pass  into  an  estate  of  perpetual  darkness  and 
oblivion  ?  Even  while  Christ's  body  was  divided 
from  His  soul,  yet  it  ceased  not  to  maintain  an 
intimate,  indissolvable  relation  to  its  divinity.  It 
was  assumed  into  the  same  person  ;  for  according 
to  the  Creed  of  Athanasius,  "as  the  soul  and  body 
make  one  man,  so  the  divine  nature  and  the  human 
make  one  Christ."  And  if  so,  is  it  imaginable  that 
the  Son  of  God  could  have  one  of  His  natures  rent 
wholly  from  His  person  ?  His  divinity,  as  it  were, 
buoyed  up  his  sinking  humanit ',  and  preserved  it 
from  a  total  dissolution  :  for,  .-is  while  the  soul 
continues  joined  to  the  body  (still  speaking  in  setisii 
(omposito),  death  cannot  pass  upon  it,  forasmuch  as 
that  is  the  proper  effect  of  their  separation  ;  so, 
while  Christ's  manhood  was  retained  in  a  personal 
conjunction  with  His  godhead,  the  bands  of  death 
were  but  feeble  and  insignificant,  like  the  withs 
and  cords  upon  Samson,  while  he  was  inspired 
with  the  mighty  presence  and  assistance  of  God's 
Spirit. 

It  was  possible,  indeed,  that  the  divine  nature 
might  for  a  while  suspend  its  supporting  influence, 
and  so  deliver  over  the  human  nature  to  pain  and 
death,  but  it  was  impossible  for  it  to  let  go  the 
relation  it  bore  to  it.  A  man  may  suffer  his  child 
to  fall  to  the  ground,  and  yet  not  wholly  quit  his 
hold  of  him,  but  still  keep  it  in  his  power  to  recover 
and  lift  him  up  at  his  pleasure.  Thus  the  divine 
nature  of  Christ  did  for  a  while  hide  itself  from  His 
humanity,  but  not  desert  it ;  put  it  into  the  cham- 
bers of  death,  but  not  lock  the  everlasting  doors 
upon  it.  The  sun  may  be  clouded,  and  yet  not 
eclipsed,  and  eclipsed,  but  not  stopped  in  his  course, 
and  much  less  forced  out  of  his  orb.  It  is  a  mys- 
tery to  be  admired,  that  anything  belonging  to  the 
person  of  Christ  should  suffer  ;  but  it  is  a  paradox 
to  be  exploded,  that  it  should  perish.  For  surely 
that  nature  which,  diffusing  itself  throughout  the 
universe,  communicates  an  enlivening  influence  to 
every  part  of  it,  and  quickens  the  least  spire  of 
grass  according  to  the  measure  of  its  nature,  and  the 
proportion  of  its  capacity,  would  not  wholly  leave  a 
nature,  assumed  into  its  bosom,  and,  what  is  more, 
into  the  very  unity  of  the  Divine  Person,  breathless 
and  inanimate,  and  dismantled  of  its  prime  and 
noblest  perfection.  For  life  is  so  high  a  perfection 
of  being,  that  in  this  respect  the  least  fly  or  mite  is 
a  more  noble  being  than  a  star.  And  God  has 
expressly  declared  Himself,  "not  the  God  of  the 
dead,  but  of  the  living ;  "  and  this  in  respect  of  the 
very  persons  of  men  ;  but  how  mucli  more  with 
reference  to  what  belongs  to  the  person  of  His  Son  ! 
For  when  natures  come  to  unite  so  near,  as 
mutually  to  interchange  names  and  attributes,  and 
to  ^'srify  the  appellation  by  which  God  is  said  to  be 
man,  and  man  to  be  God  ;  surely  man  so  privileged 
and  advanced,  cannot  for  ever  lie  under  death, 
without  an  insuffera'-.le  iivasion  upon  the  entireness 


of  that   glorious  person,    whose    perfection   is    as 
inviolable  as  it  is  incomprehensible. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

6.  Entitles  Him  to  oui.  n-orshlp. 

(845.)  "And  they  worshipped  Him,  and  returned 
to  Jerusalem  with  great  joy."  Did  they  siii  in  wor- 
shipping the  Lord  Jesus  Christ?  After  tlieir  long 
career  of  intimacy,  did  love  to  such  a  Being,  who 
had  exhausted  the  symbolism  of  life  tc  express 
His  life-giving  relations  to  them  ;  with  «  very  con- 
ceivable incitement  to  reverence  and  worship ; 
with  love,  wonder,  joy,  and  gratitude  kindling 
their  imaginations  towards  Him  ;  without  a  solitary 
word  of  caution  lest  they  should  be  snare  i  by  their 
enthusiasm,  and  bestow  upon  Him  tin:  worship 
which  belonged  only  to  God,  did  they  sm  in  wor- 
shipping Christ?  If  they  did,  was  not  Christ 
Himself  the  tempter?  If  they  did  not,  may  not 
every  living  soul  worship  Him?  Is  there  any  other 
question  of  divinity  which  man  need  be  troubled 
about  but  a  divinity  which  the  soul  may  worship, 
and  on  which  it  may  rely  for  salvation? 

Let  me  place  another  case  before  you  for  judg- 
ment. A  maiden,  the  daughter  of  a  prince,  has 
wandered  from  her  father's  house,  and  has  lapsed 
from  virtue,  seeking  pleasure  in  ways  every  year 
more  degrading.  A  noble  youth  appears  among 
her  gross  companions,  not  to  partake  in  their 
orgies,  but  with  a  gentle  grace  and  eloquent  per- 
suasion to  inspire  an  ambition  of  better  things. 
To  her  he  brings  her  father's  importunity.  Drawn 
to  him  by  all  that  is  attractive  in  pure  manhood, 
she  is  met  with  more  than  encouragement — with 
sympathy,  with  tenderness,  with  expression  of 
love  so  exquisite,  so  new,  so  eloquent,  that  her 
soul  dies  in  her  with  a  sense  of  unworthiness. 
But  he  comforts  and  encourages  her:  "Because 
I  live  thou  shalt  live  also."  And  when  she  fears 
to  weary  him,  and  seeks  alone  to  find  her  upward 
way,  he  whispers,  "Not  without  me,  for  without 
me  ye  can  do  nothing."  When  the  returning 
power  of  habits  conquered  but  not  subdued  drives 
her  to  despair,  he  re-illumines  hope,  saying,  "  Be 
of  good  cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world,  and 
you  shall  also."  And  then,  amid  blushing  flowers, 
he  pours  the  tide  of  love  in  strange  words  that 
thrill  the  heart  and  fascinates  the  imagination. 
"  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee.  Ceme 
to  me  in  every  hour  of  trial,  and  I  will  give  thee 
rest.  Grow  to  me  and  mingle  my  life  with  your 
own,  as  the  branch  derives  its  life  from  the  vine. 
Thy  heart  is  my  home ;  I  will  dwell  there.  Not 
God  and  His  dearest  ones  are  more  united  than  I 
and  thou." 

By  all  these  words,  by  all  this  love,  by  all  these 
hopes,  by  the  ineffable  joy  of  his  presence,  by  his 
noble  example  and  his  unwearied  teachings,  by 
the  inspiration  of  his  life,  and  the  lifting  power 
of  his  soul  put  beneath  hers,  she  comes  back  to 
virtue  and  womanhood,  and  with  sacred  ardour 
turns  to  him  who  has  saved  her,  to  love  him  with 
a  love  that  leaves  nothing  unmingled  in  it,  that 
carries  up  with  it  the  dew  from  every  flower  that 
blossoms  in  her  heart  !  What  if  he  sternly  shuts 
her  opening  heart,  and  puts  away  the  reverence 
of  her  love  and  the  devotion  of  her  soul,  saying, 
"  Give  these  to  your  father.  It  is  wicked  to  be- 
stow them  upon  me  !  "  If  it  be  wicked  to  lovtsj 
what  is  it  to  have  deliberately  inspired  such  lovej 
and  then  to  refuse  it  ? 


CHRIST. 


(     146    ) 


CHRIST. 


And  shall  I  follow  Christ  through  all  my  life, 
behold  His  beauty,  twine  about  Him  every  affec- 
tion, lean  upon  Him  for  strength  ;  behold  Him  as 
my  leader,  my  teacher ;  feed  upon  Him  as  my 
bread,  my  wine,  my  water  of  life  ;  see  all  things 
in  this  world  in  that  light  which  He  declares  Him- 
self to  be ;  in  His  strength  vanquish  sin,  draw 
from  Him  my  hope  and  inspiration,  wear  His  name 
and  love  His  works,  and  through  my  whole  life, 
at  His  command,  twine  about  Him  every  affection, 
die  in  His  arms,  and  awake  with  eager  upspring  to 
find  Him  whom  my  soul  loveth,  only  to  be  put 
away  with  the  announcement  that  He  is  not  the 
recipient  of  worship?  Well  might  I  cry  out  in  the 
anguish  of  Mary  in  the  garden,  "They  have  taken 
away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have 
laid  Him."  —Beecher. 

It.   HIS  INCARNA  TWIT. 

1.  Its  necessity. 

(846.)  Logicians  may  reason  about  abstractions, 
but  the  great  mass  of  mankind  never  feel  an  interest 
in  them.  They  must  have  images.  God,  the  un- 
created, the  incomprehensible,  the  invisible, 
attracted  few  worshippers ;  a  philosopher  might 
adore  so  noble  a  conception,  but  the  crowd  turned 
away  in  disgust  from  words  which  presented  no 
image  to  their  minds.  It  was  before  Deity,  em- 
bodied in  a  human  form,  walking  among  men, 
partaking  of  their  infirmities,  leaning  on  their 
bosoms,  weeping  over  their  graves,  slumbering  in 
the  manger,  bleeding  on  the  cross,  that  the  pre- 
judices of  the  synagogue,  and  the  doubts  of  the 
academy,  and  the  pride  of  the  portico,  and  the 
fasces  of  the  lictors,  and  the  swords  of  thirty  legions 
were  humbled  in  the  dust. 

— Macaulay,  1800-1859. 

(847.)  What  theologians  call  the  natural  perfec- 
tions of  the  Godhead,  eternal  existence,  almighty 
power,  infinite  wisdom,  with  other  attributes  of  the 
same  order,  suffered  temporary  eclipse  in  the  incar- 
nation of  the  Divine  Word.  Christ  came  with  no 
majesty  or  terror,  to  fill  the  imagination  with 
excitement  or  awe  ;  with  no  visible  pomp  which 
could  interfere  with  the  full  effect  of  the  moral 
revelation.  The  circumstances  in  which  He  lived, 
all  the  incidents  of  His  moral  life  gave  emphatic 
and  almost  exclusive  prominence  to  His  moral  and 
spiritual  character.  The  divine  justice,  and  mercy, 
and  goodness,  and  compassion,  and  truth,  all  the 
elements  of  holiness,  all  the  qualities  which  con- 
stitute moral  perfection,  are  revealed  to  us  in  Him 
as  they  were  never  revealed  before.  The  words 
which  represent  these  attributes  existed  in  the 
world  before,  but  they  did  not  stand  then  for  ideas 
of  the  same  magnitude  and  glory  as  those  for  which 
they  stand  now.  We  talk  of  mountains  before  we 
have  seen  the  Alps — but  when  once  we  have 
looked  on  the  glittering  glaciers,  and  the  desolate 
wastes  of  eternal  snow,  the  word  has  a  sublimity  of 
meaning  it  never  had  till  then.  So,  although  in 
the  mind  of  Moses  and  of  David  and  of  Isaiah, 
there  were  true  and  noble  conceptions  of  the  divine 
mercy,  they  must  have  bc«n  dim  and  poor  when 
compared  with  the  thoughts  which  John  and  Peter 
and  Paul  had  of  the  same  perfection. 

—R.  W.  Dale. 

(848.)  The  incarnation  of  God  is  a  necessity  of 


human  nature.  If  we  really  and  truly  have  a 
Father,  we  must  be  able  to  clasp  His  feet  in  our 
penitence,  and  to  lean  on  His  breast  in  our  weary 
sorrowfulness.  If  He  be  God,  we  must  see  exhibi- 
tions of  what  we  believe  to  be  Divine.  If  He  be 
glorious,  we  must  see  His  glory.  It  must  shine  ip 
something  or  in  some  person  whom  we  can  appre- 
hend, or  else  we  can  never  have  knowledge  of  the 
glory  of  God.  Where  does  that  glory  shine?  Paul 
says  that  "  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory 
of  God  is  in  the  face  of  Jesua  Christ." 

— Deems, 

2.  Its  nature. 

(849.)  Others,  as  the  Arians  and  the  Eunomians, 
admitted  that  Christ  took  on  Him  a  real  human 
body,  yet  denied  that  He  took  on  Him  a  human 
soul  ;  asserting  that  His  Divine  nature  supplied  the 
functions  that  it  required.  But  upon  this  supposition 
with  what  show  of  reason  can  it  be  affirmed  that  He 
took  upon  Him  our  nature,  since  the  human  nature 
is  adequately  compounded  and  made  up  of  body 
and  soul  as  its  two  essential,  constituent  parts  :  so 
that  a  body  is  no  more  a  man's  nature  without  the 
concomitance  of  a  rational  soul,  than  a  carcass  is  a 
man  ;  or  that  two  units  can  make  a  perfect  number 
of  four.  — South,  1633-17 16. 

3.  Veiled,  but  did  not  conceal  His  divine  glory. 
(850.)   It  is  recorded  of  Moses,  who  was  a  type  of 

Christ,  that  after  his  familiar  converse  with  God, 
descending  from  the  mount,  his  face  shone  with 
such  an  excessive  brightness,  as  it  were  by  reflection 
from  the  face  of  God,  that  coming  to  the  Israelites 
to  deliver  to  them  the  Divine  laws,  h;  was  fain  to 
cover  it  with  a  veil  :  yet  some  rays  of  that  miraculous 
splendour  were  visible  through  that  mysterious  veil, 
to  assure  them  it  was  Moses  himself  who  directed 
and  governed  them  according  to  God's  will. 

Thus  when  the  Son  of  God  came  down  from  the 
heaven  of  heavens  to  instruct  the  world.  He 
shadowed  the  light  of  Deity  with  a  veil  of  flesh  : 
yet  He  was  not  so  absolutely  concealed  under  His 
humanity,  but  that  from  time  to  time  beams  of  the 
Divine  nature  appeared  in  works  so  proper  to  God, 
that  tiie  apostle  says,  "We  saw  His  glory  as  the 
glory  of  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God. 

— Ba(es,  1625-1699. 

4.  Incomprehensible,  but  not  incredible. 

(851.)  Seneca  prudently  observes  that  extraordi- 
nary effects  in  nature  are  unaccountable  to  us,  as  to 
their  immediate  proper  causes,  whilst  we  only  con- 
sider the  usual  principles  by  which  it  works.  Nay 
in  the  most  common  works  of  nature,  how  many 
things  are  so  perceptible  to  sense  that  none  is  so 
stupid  as  to  deny  them,  yet  imperceptible  to  reason 
as  to  the  manner  of  their  production  ! 

Who  understands  the  admirable  conjunction  of 
the  soul  and  body  in  man  ?  How  two  metals  of  so 
precious  and  so  base  alloy,  gold  and  lead,  a  spirit 
and  matter,  the  one  celestial,  the  other  earthly, 
should  so  strictly  combine,  and  notwithstanding 
such  diversity  in  their  natures  and  properties  em- 
brace with  such  concord  in  their  inclination?  Now 
if  the  sharpest  eye,  fixed  with  the  greatest  attention 
cannot  discern  the  manner  of  this  natural  union 
when  the  thing  is  above  all  doubt,  can  there  be  any 
pretence  to  disbelieve  supernatural  mysteries  be- 
cause we  are  not  able  to  comprehend  how  they  are 
effected?  — Bates,  1625-1699. 


CHRIST. 


(     147    ) 


CHRIST. 


(852.)  You  are  unable  to  explain  the  wonderful 
union  of  God  and  man  in  the  nature  of  Christ ;  but 
are  you  more  perfectly  able  to  explain  the  wonderful 
union  of  matter  and  spirit  in  your  own  ?  Are  you 
able  to  explain  how  it  is  that  matter  seems  to  be 
a(Tecte(i  by  the  laws  of  spirit,  so  that  the  hands 
beckon,  the  feet  walk,  and  the  lips  have  language 
in  obedience  to  the  determinations  of  the  intellect 
and  will  ?  or  how  is  it  that  the  spirit  seems  to  be 
affected  by  the  laws  of  matter,  so  that  an  afflicted 
body  will  sometimes  make  a  clouded  soul  ?  In 
both  cases  you  must  believe,  not  on  the  ground  of 
your  ability  to  explain  the  thing  in  question,  but  on 
the  ground  of  its  support  by  appropriate  evidence. 

— Stanford. 

6.  The  greatest  of  all  marvels. 

(853.)  Christ  came  from  the  bosom  of  His  Father, 
from  tlie  incomprehensible,  surpassing  glories  in  the 
Godhead,  from  an  eternal  enjoyment  of  an  absolute, 
uninterrupted  bliss  and  pleasure,  in  the  mutual, 
ineffable  intercourse  between  Him  and  His  Father. 
The  heaven  of  heavens  was  His  habitation,  and 
legions  of  cherubims  andseraphims  His  humble  and 
constant  attendants.  Yet  He  was  pleased  to  disrobe 
Himself  of  all  His  magnificence,  to  lay  aside 
His  sceptre  and  His  glories,  and,  in  a  word,  to 
•'empty  Himself,"  as  far  as  the  essential  fulness  of 
the  Deity  could  be  capable  of  such  a  dispensation. 

And,  now,  if  by  the  poor  measures  of  a  man  we 
may  take  an  estimate  of  this  great  action,  we  shall 
quickly  find  how  irksome  it  is  to  flesh  and  blood  to 
have  been  happy,  to  descend  some  steps  lower,  to 
exchange  the  estate  of  a  prince  for  that  of  a  peasant, 
and  to  view  our  happiness  only  by  the  help  of 
memory.  For  how  hard  a  task  must  obedience 
needs  be  to  a  spirit  accustomed  to  rule  !  How 
uneasy  must  the  leather  and  the  frieze  sit  upon  the 
shoulders  that  used  to  shine  with  the  purple  and  the 
ermine  !  All  change  must  be  grievous  to  an  estate 
ol  absolute,  entire,  unmingled  happiness  ;  but  then 
to  change  to  the  lowest  pitch,  and  that  at  first, 
w/thout  inuring  the  mind  to  the  burden  by  gradual 
intermediate  declensions,  this  is  the  most  afflicting 
calamity  that  human  nature  can  be  capable  of. 
And  yet  what  is  all  this  to  Christ's  humiliations? 
He  who  tumbles  from  a  tower  surely  has  a  greater 
blow  than  he  who  slides  from  a  molehill.  And  we 
may  as  well  compare  the  falling  of  a  crumb  from 
the  tabic  to  the  falling  of  a  star  from  the  firma- 
ment, as  think  the  abasement  of  an  Alexander  from 
his  imperial  throne  to  the  condition  of  the  meanest 
scullion  that  followed  his  camp,  any  way  com- 
parable to  the  descension  of  Him  who  was  "the 
brightness  of  His  Father's  glory,  and  the  express 
image  of  His  person,"  to  the  condition  of  a  man, 
much  less  of  a  servant  and  a  crucified  malefactor, — 
for  so  was  Christ  treated  :  this  was  the  strange  leap 
that  He  made  from  the  greatest  height  to  the  lowest 
depth,  concerning  which  it  might  be  well  pro- 
nounced the  greatest  wonder  in  the  world,  that  He 
should  be  al)le  so  far  to  Irumble  Himself,  were  it 
not  yet  a  greater  that  He  could  be  willing. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

6.  The  most  conspicuous  display  of  the  DlvlBe 
goodness. 

(854.)  The  power  of  God  doth  brightly  shine  in 
the  creation,  the  wisdom  of  God  may  be  aiscerned 
in  the  government  of  things  :  but  the  incarnation  of 
God   is  tliat  work,   is  that  dispensation  of  grace, 


wherein  the  Divine  goodness  doth  most  conspicu- 
ously display  itself,  how  indeed  possibly  could  God 
have  demonstrated  a  greater  excess  of  kintlness 
toward  us,  than  by  thus,  for  our  sake  and  good, 
sending  His  dearest  Son  out  of  His  bosom  into  this 
sordid  and  servile  estate,  subjecting  Him  to  all  the 
infirmities  of  our  frail  nature,  exposing  Him  to  the 
worst  inconveniences  of  our  low  condition  ?  What 
expressions  can  signify,  what  comparisons  can  set 
out  the  stupendous  vastness  of  this  kindness  ?  li 
we  should  imagine  that  a  great  prince  should  put 
his  only  son  (a  son  most  lovely,  and  worthily  most 
beloved)  into  rags,  should  dismiss  him  from  his 
court,  should  yield  him  up  into  the  hardest  slavery, 
merely  to  the  intent  that  he  thereby  might  redeem 
from  captivity  the  meanest  and  basest  of  his  sub- 
jects, how  faint  a  resemblance  would  this  be  of  that 
immense  goodness  of  that  incomparable  mercy, 
which,  in  this  instance,  the  King  of  all  the  world 
hath  declared  towards  us,  His  poor  vassals.  His 
indeed  unworthy  rebels.      — £ar?ow,  1630-1677. 


III.  THE  MANIFESTA  TION  OF  GOD. 

(855.)  God  is  best  known  in  Christ;  the  sun  is 
not  seen  but  by  the  light  of  the  sun. 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(856.)  In  nature,  we  see  God,  as  it  were,  like  the 
sun  in  a  picture  ;  in  the  law,  as  the  sun  in  a  cloud  ; 
in  Christ,  we  see  Him  in  His  beams  :  He  being 
"  the  brightness  of  His  glory,  and  the  exact  image 
of  His  person."  — Ckarnock,  i62S-i6bo. 

(857.)  The  light  of  Divine  wisdom  in  the  greatest 
works  of  nature,  holds  not  the  proportion  of  the 
meanest  star  unto  the  sun  in  its  lull  strength,  unto 
that  glory  of  it  which  shines  in  this  mystery  of  God 
manifested  in  the  flesh,  and  the  work  accomplished 
thereby.  — Owen,  1613-16S3. 

IV.  HIS  CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH. 

(858.)  We  are  apt  to  forget  that  it  was  during 
this  time  that  much  of  the  threat  work  of  the  second 
Adam  V'as  done.  The  growing  up  through  infancy, 
childhood,  youth,  manhood,  from  grace  to  grace, 
holiness  to  holiness,  in  subjection,  self  denial,  and 
love,  without  one  poUutino  tomh  oj  sin,  this  it  was 
which,  consummated  by  the  three  years  of  active 
ministry,  by  the  Passion  and  by  the  Cross,  consti- 
tuted "the  obaiience  of  one  man,"  by  which  many 
were  made  righteous.  We  must  fully  afipreciate 
the  words  of  this  verse  in  order  to  think  rightly  of 
Christ.  He  had  emptied  Himself  of  His  glory. 
His  infancy  and  childhood  were  no  mere  pretence, 
but  the  Divine  Personality  was  in  Him  carried 
through  these  states  of  weakness  and  inexperience, 
and  gathered  around  itself  the  ordinary  accession 
and  experience  of  the  sons  of  men.  All  the  time 
the  consciousness  of  His  mission  on  earth  was 
ripening, — "the  things  heard  of  the  Father"  (John 
XV.  15)  were  continually  imparted  to  Him;  the 
Spirit,  which  was  not  given  by  measure  unto  Him, 
was  abiding  more  and  more  upon  Him,  till  the  day 
when  He  was  fully  ripe  for  His  official  manifesta- 
tions,— that  He  might  be  offered  to  His  own,  to 
receive  or  reject  Ilim, — and  then  the  Spirit  led 
Him  up  to  commence  His  conflict  with  the  enemy. 
As  yet.  He  was  in  favour  with  man  also, — the  uorld 
had  not  yet  begun  to  hate  Him ;  but  we  cannot  tell 


CHRIST. 


(     «48    ) 


CHRIST. 


how  soon  this  feeling  toward  Him  was  changed,  for 
He  alleges  (John  vii.  7),  '*  Me  the  world  hateth 
because  I  testify  of  it,  that  its  deeds  are  evil ; "  and 
we  can  hardly  conceii  e  such  testimony,  in  the  years 
of  gathering  vigour  and  zeal,  long  withheld.  The 
incidents  of  Luke  iv.  28,  29,  can  scarcely  have 
arisen  only  from  the  anger  of  the  moment. 

—Alford. 

(859.)  In  regard  to  the  second  period,  that  of  our 
Lord  s  youth  and  early  manhood,  one  event  at  its 
commencement,  which  shows  us  how  that  grace 
unfolded  itself  in  heavenly  wisdom,  is  fully  made 
known  to  us, — one  event,  but  one  only,  to  which 
one  short  verse  (Luke  ii.  52)  is  added,  to  teach  us 
how  that  wisdom  waxed  momentarily  more  full, 
more  deep,  more  broad,  until  like  some  mighty 
river  seeking  the  sea,  it  merged  insensibly  into  the 
omniscience  of  His  limitless  Godhead. 

{860.)  How  full  of  meaning  is  the  fact  that  we 
have  nothing  told  us  of  the  life  of  our  blessed  Lord 
between  the  twelfth  and  thirtieth  years  !  What  a 
testimony  against  all  our  striving  and  snatching 
at  hasty  results,  our  impatience,  our  desire  to  glitter 
before  the  world,  against  the  plucking  the  unripe 
fruit  of  the  mind,  and  'the  turning  of  that  into  a 
season  of  stunted  and  premature  harvest,  which 
should  have  been  a  season  of  patient  sowing,  of 
earnest  culture  and  silent  ripening  of  the  powers. 

— Trench. 

(861.)  There  is  no  more  difficult  subject  in 
theology  than  that  of  the  development  of  the  human 
soul  in  Jesus.  When  we  would  trace  the  develop- 
ment of  any  other  man,  we  soon  find  ourselves 
checked  as  Moses  was  when  he  wished  to  advance 
too  near  the  burning  bush.  Moses  said,  with  the 
curiosity  natural  to  an  educated  and  philosophical 
mind,  "  I  will  now  turn  aside,  and  see  this  great 
sight,  why  the  bush  is  not  burnt."  But  he  heard 
a  voice  which  said,  "  Draw  not  nigh  hither  :  put 
off  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  whereon 
thou  standest  is  holy  ground."  Still,  we  are  per- 
mitted to  trace  this  subject  as  far  as  to  learn  in  His 
youth,  at  least,  Jesus  grew  in  wisdom.  His  attain- 
ment of  knowledge,  at  that  period  of  His  life,  was 
progressive.  Nor  can  we  reasonably  suppose  it  was 
otherwise  afterwards  :  He  learned  obedierrce  by  the 
things  which  He  suffered.         — Z.  H.  Wiseman. 

(862 )  We,  being  defective  in  nature,  are  de- 
veloped through  error.  By  slow  correction  of 
mistakes,  we  arrive  at  intellectual,  by  slow  cor- 
rection of  faults,  at  moral  excellence.  But  it  is 
quite  possible  to  conceive  the  entirely  natural 
development  of  Christ's  perfect  nature,  limited  by 
time  ;  the  development,  as  it  were,  of  a  fountain 
into  a  river,  perfect  as  the  fountain,  but  not  more 
than  the  fountain  as  a  child  ;  perfect  as  the  rivulet, 
but  not  more  than  the  rivulet  as  a  boy  ;  perfect  as 
the  stream,  but  not  more  than  the  stream  as  a 
youth  ;  and  perfect  as  the  majestic  river  as  a  man. 
At  each  stage  greater  than  at  the  last,  more  de- 
veloped, but  as  perfect  as  possible  to  nature  at 
each  ;  and  as  the  water  of  the  fountain,  rivulet, 
stream,  and  river  is  the  same  throughout,  self-sup- 
plied, perennial  in  its  source  and  flowing,  so  was  it 
with  the  nature  of  Christ,  and  with  His  growth. 
— Stop/ord  Brooke. 

(863.)  There  are  two  conceivable  kinds  of  devel- 


opment ;  one,  development  through  antagonism, 
through  error,  from  stage  to  stage  of  less  and  less 
deficiency.  This  is  our  development  ;  but  it  is 
such  because  evil  has  gained  a  lodgment  in  our 
nature,  and  we  can  only  attain  perfection  through 
contest  with  it.  But  there  is  another  kind  ot 
development  conceivable,  the  development  of  a  per- 
fect nature  limited  by  time.  Such  a  nature  will  * 
always  be  potentially  that  which  it  will  become ; 
i.e.,  everything  which  it  will  be  is  already  there,  but 
the  development  of  it  is  successive,  according  to 
time ;  perfect  at  each  several  stage,  but  each  stage 
more  finished  than  the  last.  The  plant  is  perfect  as 
the  green  shoot  above  the  earth,  it  is  all  it  can  be 
then  ;  it  is  more  perfect  as  the  creature  adorned  with 
leaves  and  branches,  and  it  is  all  it  can  be  then ; 
it  reaches  its  full  perfection  when  the  blossom 
breaks  into  flower.  But  it  has  been  as  perfect  as  it 
can  be  at  every  stage  of  its  existence  ;  it  has  had  no 
struggle,  no  retrogression,  it  has  realised  in  an 
entirely  normal  and  natural  way,  at  each  successive 
step  of  its  life,  exactly  and  fully  that  which  a  plant 
should  be. 

Such  was  the  development  of  Christ.  He  was 
the  perfect  child,  the  perfect  boy,  the  perfect  youth, 
the  perfect  flower  of  manhood.  Every  stage  of 
human  life  was  lived  in  finished  purity,  and  yet  no 
stage  was  abnormally  developed  ;  there  was  nothing 
out  of  character  in  His  life.  He  did  not  think  the 
thought  of  a  youth  when  a  child,  nor  feel  the  feel- 
ings of  a  man  when  a  youth  ;  but  He  grew  freely, 
nobly,  naturally,  unfolding  all  His  powers  without  a 
strugi,'le,  in  a  completely  healthy  progress. 

A  second  illustration  may  make  the  matter  clearer. 
The  work  of  an  inferior  artist  arrives  at  a  certain 
amount  of  perfection  through  a  series  of  failures, 
which  teach  him  where  he  is  wrong.  By  slow 
correction  of  error  he  is  enabled  to  produce  a 
tolerable  picture.     Such  is  our  development. 

The  work  of  a  man  of  genius  is  very  different. 
He  has  seen,  before  he  touches  the  pencil,  the  finished 
picture.  His  first  sketch  contains  the  germ  of  all. 
The  picture  is  there  ;  but  the  first  sketch  is  inferior 
in  finish  10  the  next  stage,  and  that  to  the  com- 
pleted picture.  But  his  work  is  perfect  in  its  several 
stages ;  not  a  line  needs  erasure,  not  a  thought 
correction ;  it  develops  into  its  last  and  noblest 
form  without  a  single  error.  Such  was  Christ's 
development,  — an  orderly,  faultless,  unbroken  devel- 
opment, in  which  humanity,  freed  from  its  un- 
natural companion,  evil,  went  forward  according  to 
its  real  nature.  It  was  the  restoration  of  humanity 
to  its  original  integrity,  to  itself,  as  it  existed  in  the 
idea  of  God.  — Stopford  Brooke. 

V.  HIS  BAPTISM. 

(864.)  Why  should  our  Lord,  who  was  witkotit 
sin,  have  come  to  a  baptism  of  repentance  '{  Because 
He  was  made  sin  for  us.  For  the  same  reason  He 
suffered  the  curse  of  the  law.  It  became  Him, 
being  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  to  go  through 
those  rites  and  purifications  which  belonged  to  that 
flesh.  There  is  no  more  strangeness  in  His  having 
been  baptized  by  John  that  in  His  keeping  the 
passovers.  The  one  rite,  as  the  other,  belonged  to 
sinners,  and  dmong  the  transgressors  He  was  num' 
bered.  — Alford. 

VI.  HIS  FORTY  days'  FAST. 

(865.)  "And  when  He  had  fasted  forty  days  He 
was  afterwards  an  hungred."    How  are  we  intended 


CHRIST, 


(    149    ) 


CHRIST, 


to  understand  a  fast  of  this  length,  manifestly  im- 
possible to  man  under  ordinary  conditions?  Not 
jy  bringing  in,  as  some  have  done,  Christ's  divine 
power  as  the  explanation  of  all ;  which  would 
indeed  rob  this  fact  of  its  significance  for  us. 

We  must  seek  the  explanation  elsewhere.  We 
are  far  too  much  accustomed,  in  a  stiff  dualism,  to 
■conceive  of  the  spiritual  and  material  as  of  two 
worlds  altogether  apart,  with  a  rigid  line  of  demar- 
cation between  them,  so  that  the  powers  and  influ- 
ences of  the  higher  cannot  pass  over  efiectually  to 
operate  in  the  sphere  of  the  lower.  Yet  all  the 
experience  of  our  daily  life  contradicts  this,  and  we 
note  the  higher  continually  making  itself  felt  in  the 
region  of  the  lower.  The  wayworn  regiment,  which 
could  scarcely  drag  itself  along,  but  which  revives 
at  the  well-known  air,  and  forgets  all  its  weariness, 
what  does  it  but  declare  that  the  spirit  is  lord  not 
merely  in  its  own  domain,  but  is  meant  to  be,  and 
even  now  in  no  inconsiderable  degree  is,  the  lord 
of  the  provinces  of  man's  life  that  lie  beneath  it? 
Matter  instead  of  offering  a  stubborn  resistance  to 
spirit,  proves  in  many  and  marvellous  ways  to  be 
plastic  to  it.  Sensuality  debases  and  degrades  the 
countenance ;  purity  and  love  ennoble  it,  casting  a 
beam  even  upon  the  outward  shape.  What  is  the 
resurrection  of  the  body,  or  the  ultimate  glorification 
of  nature,  or  the  larger  number  of  those  miracles 
wrought  by  the  Lord  in  the  days  of  His  flesh,  but 
the  workings  of  spirit  upon  matter?  So  too,  it 
fared  with  His  forty  days'  fast.  To  bring  in  here 
His  Divine  power,  or  to  suppose  that  He  then  fasted 
otherwise  than  as  a  man,  is,  as  has  been  urged 
already,  to  rob  the  whole  transaction  of  its  meaning. 
Upborne  and  upholden  above  the  common  needs  of 
the  animal  life  by  the  great  tides  of  spiritual  glad- 
ness, in  the  strength  of  that  recent  baptism,  in  the 
solemn  joy  of  that  salutation  and  recognition  from 
His  Father,  He  found  and  felt  no  need  for  food  all 
these  forty  days.  — Trench. 

VII.    HIS  TEMPTATIOS, 

(866.)  The  gloom  and  temptation  of  the  wilder- 
ness preceded  the  glorious  career  of  our  Lord's 
ministry,  as  heavy  mists  often  precede  a  brilliant 
summer's  day.  — Z.  //.  Wisettian. 

(867.)  In  the  wilderness  Jesus  was  not  tempted 
as  He  was  divine,  but  as  He  was  human.  The  wind 
agitates  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  while  its  hidden 
depths  remain  untroubled.  These  temptations 
troubled  the  outer  humanity  :  the  inner  divinity 
they  could  not  touch  ;  nor  was  the  inner  divinity 
called  forth  in  resisting  them.  As  a  man  He 
suffered,  as  a  man  He  resisted,  as  a  man  He  con- 
quered. — L.  H.  Wiseman, 

(868.)  It  is  not  probable  that  He  was  at  any 
time  long  together  freed  from  Satanic  molestations  ; 
though  the  great  temptations,  at  the  close  of  forty 
days,  are  more  minutely  recorded  ;  as  the  sailor 
tells  of  one  or  two  fearful  storms  which  he  has 
weathered,  leaving  lighter  squalls  unmentioned.  And 
as  the  devil  is  often  busiest  with  us  when  we  wish 
to  be  most  intent  on  heavenly  meditations,  knowing 
that  if  lie  can  thwart  and  distract  us  then,  he  is 
depriving  us  of  our  strength  and  hope  in  the  midst 
of  busy  outward  duties,  it  is  unlikely  that  he  would 
leave  our  Saviour  unmolested  during  the  whole  of 
the  forty  days  which  He  spent  in  communing  with 
His  Father.  — L.  H,  Wiseman. 


(869.)  Did  Christ,  then,  merely  suffer  in  the 
wilderness  as  any  other  man  has  done?  Suffering 
is  a  question  of  nature.  The  educated  man  suffers 
more  than  the  uneducated  man  ;  the  poet  probably 
suffers  more  than  the  mathematician ;  the  com- 
manding officer  suffers  more  in  a  defeat  than  the 
common  soldier.  The  more  life,  the  more  suffer- 
ing ;  the  billows  of  sorrow  being  in  proportion  to 
the  volume  of  our  manhood.  Now  Jesus  Christ 
was  not  merely  a  man.  He  was  man  ;  and  by  the 
very  compass  of  His  manhood  He  suffered  more 
than  any  mortal  can  endure.  The  storm  may  pass 
as  fiercely  over  the  shallow  lake  as  over  the  Atlantic, 
but  by  its  very  volume  the  latter  is  more  terribly 
shaken.  No  other  man  had  come  with  Christ's 
ideas ;  in  no  other  man  was  the  element  of  self  so 
entirely  abnegated  ;  no  other  man  had  offered  such 
opposition  to  diabolic  rule  ;  all  these  circumstances 
combine  to  render  Christ's  temptation  unique,  yet 
not  one  of  them  puts  Christ  so  far  away  as  to  pre- 
vent us  finding  in  His  temptation  unfailing  solace 
and  strength.  — Joseph  Parker. 

(870.)  Our  Lord's  temptations  brought  out  clearly 
into  view  the  perfectness  of  His  character.  Says 
Epictetus  concerning  Hercules,  "  Had  he  sat  at 
home  by  the  fireside,  and  passed  his  life  in  effem- 
inate ease  and  indulgences,  he  had  never  been 
Hercules.  They  were  the  lion,  the  hydra,  the  boar, 
and  all  those  monsters  he  so  laboriously  defeated, 
which  exercised  his  gallantry.  What  honour  had 
he  acquired  if  his  virtue  had  not  been  thus  danger- 
ously employed?  What  benefit  had  mankind 
reaped  from  so  great  a  soul  if  he  had  declined  the 
occasions  of  exerting  it  ?  " 

(871.)  A  certain  class  of  modern  sceptics  are 
accustomed  to  represent  the  temptation  of  Christ 
as  originating  in  His  own  thoughts  at  the  discovery 
that  He  possessed  miraculous  power.  The  question 
then  presented  itself.  What  should  He  do  with  the 
awful  gift?  And  it  occurred  to  Him  that  He  might 
use  it  for  His  own  aggrandisement.  Now,  that 
such  a  thought  may  have  occurred  to  Him  may  not 
be  denied  ;  but  if  this  were  all,  it  is  difficult  to 
understand  where  the  temptation  was.  The  hoary 
saint  knows  that  he  could  kill  that  child  for  the 
penny  in  its  hand  ;  but  the  bare  occurrence  of  the 
thought  is  no  temptation.  If  the  thought  occurred 
to  Christ,  and  was  attended  by  strong  desires  in 
Him  to  pervert  His  miraculous  power  to  His  own 
personal  interest  in  the  world,  then  it  might  have 
been  truly  said  of  Him,  "  He  hath  a  devil."  But 
this  militates  against  the  conceded  perfection  of 
Christ,  and  must  be  condemned  by  these  same 
sceptics  who  now  so  loudly  proclaim  that  our 
Saviour's  great  superiority  consisted  in  the  fact  that 
His  heart  was  always  right.  — Af  Roe, 

VIII.    MADE  PERFECT  BY  SUFFERING. 

(872.)  He  was  made  like  to  men  in  the  curse, 
though  not  in  the  sin  ;  which  was  necessary  for  His 
being  a  merciful  high  priest.  This  qualification  of 
compassion  could  not  result  in  such  a  high  manner 
from  anything  so  well  as  from  an  experimental 
knowledge  of  the  miseries  we  had  contracted.  No 
man  is  so  affected  with  the  wretched  state  of  men 
in  a  shipwreck  by  beholding  it  in  a  picture,  as  when 
he  sees  the  ship  dashed  against  the  rocks,  and 
hears  the  cries  and  beholds  the  strugglings  of  the 
passengers    for   life ;    nor  is  any  man  so  deeply 


CHRTST. 


{    150    ) 


CHRIST. 


affected  with  them  upon  sight,  as  upon  feeling  the 
same  miseries  in  his  own  person.  That  makes  a 
man's  com[)assion  more  readily  excited  upon  seeing 
or  hearing  of  others  in  the  like  state.  Now,  had 
not  Christ  run  through  the  chief  miseries  of  human 
life,  and  the  punishment  of  death,  He  had  not  had 
that  experimental  compassion  which  was  necessary 
to  qualify  Him  for  this  priesthood.  It  was  by 
being  made  perfect  through  sufferings  that  He  be- 
came "the  author  of  eternal  salvation." 

—Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(873.)  "  The  Captain  of  our  salvation  was  made 
jierfect  by  sufferings,  and  for  suffering  death  was 
crowned  with  glory,"  because  His  sufferings  did 
constitute  Him  a  perfect  Captain  or  Redeemer  in 
performance;  though  before  He  was  perfect  in 
ability.  As  he  that  undertaketh  to  redeem  some 
Turkish  galley-slaves  by  conquering  their  navy,  is 
made  a  perfect  redeemer,  or  conqueror,  when  he 
hath  taken  the  fleet,  though  yet  the  prisoners  are 
in  his  power,  to  release  them  on  such  terms  as  seem 
best  to  him.  And  as  a  man  is  a  perfect  chirurgeon, 
when  (Viesides  his  skill)  he  is  furnished  with  all  his 
instruments  or  salves  (how  costly  soever)  though  yet 
the  cure  is  not  done  :  or  as  he  that  hath  ransomed 
prisoners  is  a  perfect  ransomer,  when  he  hath  paid 
the  price,  though  yet  they  are  not  delivered,  nor 
have  any  actual  right  themselves  to  claim  deliver- 
ance by.  —Baxter,  161 5-169 1. 

IX.    HIS  LIFE  CANNOT  BE  WRITTEN. 

(874.)  The  effect  of  studying  the  life  of  Christ  is, 
that  after  you  have  devoted  weeks  and  weeks  and 
weeks  to  one  phase  of  His  character,  and  you  are 
"ailed  to  write  it  out  when  it  is  finished,  the  impres- 
.ion  on  your  mind  is  that  you  are  just  ready  to 
begin  on  that  point  ;  and  you  throw  away  your 
manuscript  and  try  again.  And  you  gather  from 
the  Gospels  all  the  materials  that  you  can,  and  turn 
them  in  every  way  to  make  a  more  massive  and  a 
more  perfect  representation  ;  and  at  last  it  Hashes 
upon  your  mind  tliat  you  are  attempting  to  exhaust 
that  which  in  its  nature  is  inexhaustible  and  in- 
finite. 

Who  can  take  an  opal  and  paint  it  ?  It  is  only 
so  much  as  you  can  at  one  jioint  see  that  you  can 
paint.  You  cannot  paint  the  flash,  nor  the  lustre, 
nor  the  varying  colours.  And  you  can  only  con- 
ceive of  actual  life.  You  cannot  take  in  such  a 
nature  as  Christ's,  with  all  its  relations  to  heaven 
above  and  to  the  earth  beneath,  and  all  its  social 
and  aesthetic  qualities,  and  all  its  divine  elements, 
not  simply  because  they  elude  your  grasp,  running 
out  beyond  analysis  and  research,  but  because  they 
are  so  combined,  so  changeable,  so  constantly 
coming  and  going,  with  various  phases  and  in 
various  ways,  that  no  man  can  give  the  whole  of  it. 
There  is  always  more ;  and  when  that  is  ex- 
presied  there  is  still  more.     There  is  no  end  to  it. 

— Beecher. 


X.    HIS  CHARACTERS  AND  TITLES. 

1.  The  Word  of  God. 

(875.)  The  Divine  Person  who  has  accom- 
plished the  salvation  of  mankind  is  called  the 
Word,  and  the  Word  of  God  (Rev.  xix.  13) ;  not 
only  because  God  at  first  created,  and  still  governs 


all  things  by  Him,  but  liecause,  as  men  discovei 
their  sentiments  and  designs  to  one  another  by  the 
intervention  of  words,  speech,  or  discourse,  so  God, 
by  His  Son,  discovers  His  gracious  designs  in 
the  fullest  and  clearest  manner  to  men. 

— Igdalia. 

2.  The  Consolation  of  Israel. 

(876.)  Piscator  observeth  that  "the  consolation 
of  Israel "  is  the  periphrasis  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
because  all  the  consolation  of  a  true  Israelite,  as 
Jacob's  in  Benjamin,  is  bound  up  in  Christ.  If  He 
be  gone,  the  soul  goeth  down  to  the  grave  with 
sorrow.  As  all  the  candles  in  a  country  cannot 
make  a  day — no,  it  must  be  the  rising  of  tlie  sun 
that  must  do  it  ;  the  greatest  confluence  of  comforts 
that  the  whole  creation  affordelh,  cannot  make  a 
day  of  light  and  gladness  in  the  heart  of  a  believer  ; 
no,  it  must  be  the  rising  of  this  Sun  of  Righteous 
ness.  — Swinnock,  1673, 

3.  The  Light  of  the  world. 

(877.)  The  light  of  the  law  shone  only  on  the 
Jews ;  but  this  Light  spread  itself  wider,  even  over 
all  the  world.  —Lightfoot,  1602-1675. 

4.  The  Sun  of  Righteousness. 

(878.)  Christ  is  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  for  as 
by  nature  there  was  no  guile  found  on  His  lips,  so 
is  He  habitually  and  actually  righteous.  He  is  com- 
pared to  the  sun.  First,  because,  as  all  light  wis 
gathered  into  the  body  of  the  sun,  and  from  it 
derived  to  us,  so  it  pleased  God  that  in  Him  should 
the  fulness  of  all  excellency  dwell  ;  and  therefore 
those  that  look  for  perfection  out  of  Christ,  do  look 
for  light  without  the  sun. 

Secondly,  as  there  is  but  one  sun,  so  there  is 
but  one  Sun  of  Righteousness  ;  and  therefore  what 
needeth  two  heads,  or  two  husbands?  One  must 
needs  be  an  adulterer.  Christ  does  all  by  the 
Spirit,  which  is  His  vicar.  Other  vicar  needs  He 
not,  though  there  are  a  thousand  worlds  more. 

Thirdly,  as  the  sun  is  above  in  the  firmament,  so 
Christ  is  exalted  up  on  high,  to  convey  His  graces 
and  virtues  to  all  His  creatures  here  below,  even  as 
the  sun  conveys  life  and  quickens  the  earth,  yea,  all 
things  thereon,  though  itself  be  but  one. 

Fourthly,  as  the  sun  works  largely  in  all  things 
here  below,  so  does  Christ. 

Fifthly,  as  the  sun  is  the  fountain  of  light,  and 
the  eye  of  the  world,  so  Chr  »t  is  the  fountain  of  all 
spiritual  light.  "  I  am  the  ight  of  the  world," 
saith  He  of  Himself,  He  wix^  that  light  that  en- 
lightens the  world,  saith  St.  John  of  Him  ;  and 
therefore  Zacharias  termeth  Him  "the  dayspring 
from  on  high." 

Sixthly,  as  the  sun  directs  us  whither  to  go,  and 
which  way,  so  does  Christ  teach  us  to  go  to  heaven, 
and  by  what  means  ;  what  duties  to  ]-ierform,  what 
things  to  avoid,  and  what  things  to  bear. 

Seventhly,  as  the  sun  is  pleasant  and  darkness  is 
terrible,  so  Christ  is  comfortable,  for  He  makes  all 
at  peace  when  He  comes,  and  sends  Ilis  Spirit,  the 
Comforter.  Now  He  is  in  heaven.  Therefore  as 
ignorance  and  error  is  expressed  by  darkness,  so, 
contrarily,  joy  and  honour  and  knowledge  which 
brings  it  is  expressed  by  light ;  and  Clirisl  is  out 
director,  our  supporter,  and  without  llim  what  ar« 
we  ?  and  what  do  we  but  glory  in  our  shame  ? 

Eighthly,  by  the  beams  of  the  sun  is  conveyed 
influence  to  make  things  grow,  and  to  distinguish 


CHRIST. 


(    «5i    ) 


CHRIST. 


between  times  and  seasons.  Thus  Christ,  by  His 
power,  makes  all  things  cheerful,  and  therefore  is 
called  the  "quickening  spirit,"  for  He  quickens 
the  dead  and  dark  soul,  which,  till  Christ  shine  on 
us,  is  a  dungeon  of  ignorance  and  unbelief;  and 
as  His  Spirit  blows  on  our  spirits,  so  also  it  works 
a  spring  in  the  growth  of  grace,  or  a  summer  in 
strength  of  zeal. 

Ninthly,  the  sun  works  these  effects,  not  by 
coming  down  to  us,  but  by  influence  ;  and  shall  we 
then  be  so  sottish  as  to  imagine  that  Christ  of 
necessity  must  come  bodily  in  the  sacrament  to  us, 
or  else  there  is  no  work  of  the  Spirit  by  that 
ordinance.  Can  the  sun  be  thus  powerful  in  opera- 
tion by  nature,  and  shall  not  this  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness be  more  powerful  by  the  influence  of  His  Spirit 
to  comfort  and  quicken  us,  though  He  comes  not 
bodily  down  into  a  piece  of  bread  ? 

Tenthly,  as  the  sun  does  work  freely,  drawing  up 
vapours  to  dissolve  them  into  rain  upon  the  earth, 
to  cherish  it  when  it  is  dry,  so  does  Christ.  He 
freely  came  from  heaven  to  us,  and  freely  draws  up 
our  hearts  to  heaven,  which  cannot  ascend  thither 
but  by  His  exhaling  power.  Christ  is  our  loadstone, 
that  draws  these  iron,  hard  hearts  of  ours  upward, 
causing  us  to  contemn  this  base  world,  counting  it 
"dross  and  dung,"  as  the  Church  is  shadowed 
out  in  Revelation  treading  the  moon  under  her 
feet. 

Eleventhly,  as  the  sun  shines  upon  all,  yet  doth 
not  heat  all,  so  Christ  is  offered  to  all.  He  shines 
on  all  where  the  gospel  comes,  but  all  are  not  en- 
lightened ;  and  all  that  are  enlightened  do  not 
burn  in  love  to  Him  ;  nay,  some  are  more  hardened 
by  it,  as  it  is  the  nature  of  the  sun  to  harden  some 
bodico. 

Twelvthly,  and  lastly,  as  the  sun  quickens  and 
puts  life  into  dead  creatures,  so  shall  Christ,  by  His 
power,  quicken  our  dead  bodies,  and  raise  them  up 
again  when  He  shall  come  to  judgment. 

—SMes,  I577-J635. 

6.  The  door. 

(879.)  You  are  not  shut  out  of  your  Father's 
house,  poor  prodigal.  The  door  is  opened.  You 
have  not  to  stand  and  knock  by  the  month  together 
with  processes  of  repentance  and  reformation.  A 
door  is  opened.  Christ  is  that  door.  If  you  come 
to  Christ  you  have  come  to  God  ;  if  you  trust  in 
Jesus  you  are  saved.  The  door  to  the  ark  was  wide 
enough  to  admit  the  hugest  beasts  as  well  as  the 
tiniest  animals,  and  the  door  into  God's  mercy  is 
wide  enough  to  let  in  the  greatest  sinner  as  well  as 
the  more  refined  moralist.  — Spurgeon. 

(8S0.)  Christ  is  the  door  of  salvation.  Wide 
enough  is  that  door  for  the  admission  of  all.  "  If 
any  man,"  is  the  superscription  on  its  portals. 
Whatever  be  the  age,  the  country,  the  colour  of 
skin  ;  rich  or  poor,  young  or  old,  bond  or  free  ; — 
free  as  that  sun  in  heaven  which  shines  with  indis- 
criminate splendour  on  molehill  and  mountain,  on 
cottage  and  palace,  on  blade  of  grass  and  stately 
palm  or  cedar  :  free  as  that  mountain  stream,  sing- 
ing its  way  amid  birch  and  heather  to  lake  or 
ocean  ;  free  as  that  stream  is  to  the  fish  that  sports 
in  its  pools,  or  to  the  wild  deer  of  the  forest,  or  to 
the  wayside  pilgrims  to  slake  their  thirst ;  free  as 
that  ocean  is  to  every  vessel  and  every  craft,  from 
the  rude  fisherman's  boat  and  the  plank  of  the  cast- 
away, to  the  iron  fortress,  carrying  its  impenet  aole 
■lieathing  and  its  sleeping  thunders  ; — so  free  ij  ;hat , 


door  of  entrance  into  the  Fold  of  the  Heavenly 
Shepherd.  Around  it,  rich  and  poor  may  congre- 
gate together,  with  this  plea,  "The  Lord  js  the 
Redeemer  of  us  all."  It  is  not  like  the  doors 
opening  into  the  high  places  of  the  world.  These 
are  patent  only  to  the  favoured  few.  These  can 
only  be  opened  by  the  key  of  influence,  or  merit, 
or  intellect,  or  rank,  or  money  (the  golden  key 
which  fits  all  locks)  ;  while  the  multitude — the 
vast  majority — stand  outside,  excluded.  But  all 
are  warranted  and  welcome  here.  — Macduff. 

(881.)  The  old  city  of  Troy  had  but  one  gate. 
Go  round  and  round  and  round  the  city,  and  you 
could  find  no  other.  If  you  wanted  to  get  in,  there 
was  but  one  way,  and  no  other.  So  to  the  strong 
and  beautiful  city  of  heaven  there  is  but  one  gate, 
and  no  other.  Do  you  know  what  it  is?  Christ 
says,  "  I  am  the  door." 

6.  The  Vine. 

(882.)  A  beautiful  theory  has  recently  been 
established  in  vegetable  physiology,  which  illus- 
trates in  a  most  striking  manner  the  nature  of  the 
union  between  Christ  and  believers,  as  symbolised 
by  a  vine  and  its  branches.  This  theory  proceeds 
on  the  assumption  that  all  plants,  without  excep- 
tion, are  strictly  annual ;  the  only  difference  be- 
tween the  more  fugitive  and  the  more  permanent 
species  being  that  the  one  kind  is  propagated  ex- 
clusively by  seeds,  while  the  other  is  propagated  by 
both  buds  and  seeds.  This  notion  is  opposed  to  the 
popular  belief,  and  to  the  apparent  evidence  of  our 
senses.  A  tree,  under  which  class  the  vine  of  course 
is  included,  is  generally  supposed  to  be  a  single  plant, 
like  a  primrose  or  a  lily,  only  that  it  does  not  fade 
in  autumn,  and  is  possessed  of  perennial  growth. 
The  common  idea  is  that  it  is  an  individual,  having 
the  same  kind  of  individuality  or  personality  that  a 
man  has ;  the  root,  trunk,  branches,  leaves,  and 
blossoms  being  component  parts  of  one  and  the 
self-same  single  plant,  just  as  the  body,  limbs,  and 
various  organs  are  component  parts  of  one  and  the 
self-same  human  being.  And  this  certainly  is  the 
impression  which  at  first  sight  it  produces.  Recent 
scientific  researches,  however,  have  proved  this 
belief  to  be  erroneous.  A  tree  is  now  found  to  be 
not  a  single  individual,  a  single  plant,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  an  aggregate  of  individuals,  a  body 
corporate.  The  idea  involved  in  a  genealogical  tree 
is  exactly  that  which  is  involved  in  a  natural  tree  ; 
the  former  consists  of  living  and  dead  persons,  as 
the  latter  consists  of  living  and  dead  plants.  In  its 
full  wealth  of  summer  foliage  and  vigour,  a  tree  is 
literally  a  vegetable  colony,  propagating  its  indi- 
vidual plants  vertically  in  the  air,  instead  of  spread- 
ing them  out  horizontally  over  the  earth's  surface, 
like  herbaceous  plants.  It  is  neither  more  nor  less, 
to  use  the  language  of  one  who  has  written  a  special 
treatise  upon  the  subject,  than  a  collection  of  living 
and  growing,  but  separate  and  distinct,  plunts — the 
production  of  the  current  year,  and  likewise  of  the 
dead  remains  of  a  still  larger  number  of  individual 
plants  of  the  same  kind  or  species,  the  production 
of  a  series  of  bygone  years.  Each  season  new 
shoots  or  annual  plants  spring  up  from  the  buds 
which  crown  the  old  ones  ;  and  these  are  the  only 
living  parts  o:  the  tree.  Each  season,  at  the  close 
of  the  year,  these  shootsi  or  annual  plants,  having 
fulfilled  the  purposes  of  their  existence,  die  com- 
pletely— there  being  no  provision  in  vegetable,  as 
in  animal  economy,  to  repair  wasted  tissues;   but 


CHRIST. 


(    15*    ) 


CHRIST. 


tttough  dead  and  composed  of  very  perishable 
Dioterials,  they  escape  decomposition,  to  which  all 
dead  organic  matter  is  liable  when  exposed  to  the 
action  of  the  elements,  owing  to  the  roots  of  the 
new  buds  with  which  they  are  tipped  growing  over 
them,  inclosing  them  on  every  side  and  through- 
out their  entire  length.  They  are  thus  hermetically 
encased  in  the  tree,  and  serve  to  increase  its  size, 
affording  to  the  new  plants  that  are  to  spring  from 
them  a  temporary  soil  and  a  permanent  mechanical 
support.  A  tree  is  thus  like  a  cluster  of  coral — 
each  new  generation  of  living  organisms  developing 

f)arasitically  upon  the  remains  of  a  past  generation, 
iving  and  dead  being  built  up  into  one  compact 
corporate  organisation.  And  just  as  there  is  no 
limit  to  the  growth  and  increase  of  coral  structures, 
except  the  strength  of  the  waves  and  the  absence  of 
secreting  materials  in  the  sea,  so  there  can  be  no 
limit  on  account  of  this  peculiarity  of  its  construc- 
tion to  the  size  and  age  of  a  tree,  except  the  limit 
imposed  by  soil  and  external  circumstances. 

Now,  viewed  in  this  light,  what  a  beautiful  and 
appropriate  type  does  the  vine  afford  of  the  mystical 
body  of  Christ,  that  sacred  and  spiritual  corporation 
composed  of  Christ,  and  of  ail  who  have  been 
united  to  Him  by  a  living  faith  as  the  living  Head 
— belonging  to  every  age  and  countiy,  belonging  to 
every  class  and  denomination,  living  and  dead  I 
This  spiritual  body  is  one  organisation  ;  but,  like  a 
coral  cluster,  it  is  composed  of  numberless  distinct 
and  separate  individuals.  This  sacred  vine  is  a 
unity  ;  but,  like  a  natural  tree,  it  is  made  up  of 
countless  separate  plants.  The  union  between 
Christ  and  His  people,  and  between  each  of  them- 
selves, is  of  the  closest  and  most  vital  description. 
Each  member  has  his  own  personality,  his  own 
individual  existence  ;  and  yet,  living  or  dead,  he  is 
regarded  as  a  scion,  or  branch,  of  one  common  stock 
— a  component  and  integral  part  of  one  tree.  The 
same  bond  unites  each  to  all ;  the  same  sap  pervades 
all ;  the  same  life  animates  them  all.  Christ  is  not 
the  trunk,  nor  the  branches,  but  the  whole  vine ; 
they  are  members  of  His  body,  of  His  flesh,  and  of 
His  bones.  They  are  His  fulness,  in  the  same 
sense  that  all  the  separate  plants  grow  on  a  tree, 
and  the  remains  of  those  that  are  dead,  make  up 
the  outline,  and  form,  and  substance  of  ihat  tree. 

— Macmillan. 

T.  The  Saviour. 

(883.)  At  the  very  utterance  of  the  name, — a 
Saviour, —every  heart  exults  with  a  delight  other- 
wise unknown.  To  the  generous  breast  no  other 
object  is  so  beautiful,  no  other  sound  so  welcome. 
Never  do  we  shed  such  rapturous  tears,  or  feel  so 
passionate  a  joy,  as  when  we  witness  the  heroism 
and  the  self-devotion  of  some  act  of  magnanimous 
deliverance.  Power  softens  into  loveliness,  when 
thus  exerted.  Danger  and  toil,  encountered  in  such 
a  cause,  impart  a  stern,  yet  irresistible  attraction. 
It  is  thus  we  think  of  the  patriot,  bleeding  for  the 
freedom  of  his  country ;  of  the  philanthropist, 
regardless  of  his  own  security  amidst  pestilence, 
and  darkness,  and  the  ministers  of  death,  that  he 
may  release  the  wretched  captive,  and  break  the 
yoke  of  the  oppressor  ;  of  the  advocate,  defending 
the  home  of  the  widow  or  the  heritage  of  the  orphan, 
and  turning  intc*  mockery  the  venality  of  accusation, 
and  the  menaces  of  vengeance  ;  of  the  statesman, 
who  stands  forth  single-handed,  but  with  a  daunt- 
less  heart,   to  turn  b«ck  the  flood  of  tyranny  or 


faction,  when  threatening  to  engulf  in  common 
ruin  the  welfare  of  his  people  and  the  safety  of 
mankind  ;  and  of  the  pilot,  adventurously  urging 
his  way  through  the  pitiless  and  maddening  surge, 
that  he  may  snatch  some  solitary  victim  from  the 
horrors  of  shipwreck,  and  bear  him,  naked  and 
shivering,  to  the  shore.  What,  then,  shall  be  the  \ 
glory  of  Him  who  plunged,  with  all  the  conscious- 
ness of  unsheltered  peril,  into  the  very  depths  of 
misery,  to  rescue  the  perishing  soul !  Or  what 
shall  be  the  measure,  either  of  our  admiration  or 
our  gratitude,  when  we  celebrate,  beholding  its  last 
triumphs,  the  emancipation  of  a  world  !  Advocate, 
friend,  brother, — these  are  beloved  names ;  and, 
like  a  grateful  odour,  they  give  life  to  the  drooping 
spirit  ;  but  if  the  name  of  Saviour  be  more  endear- 
ing than  them  all,  then  what  is  that  ravishment  of 
love  with  which  the  rescued  sinner  shall  hail  at 
length  the  blessed  name  of  Jesus  1  — AI'All, 

8.  The  Qiver  of  Peace. 

(884.)  I  went  into  a  German  church  in  one  of  the 
old  quaint  cities  of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  twilight-time 
was  falling  over  the  old  buildings,  to  hear  an  organ. 
The  building  was  dark  as  I  entered  it,  for  only  a 
single  candle  struggled  with  the  gloom  that  possessed 
the  aisles  and  nave,  the  columns,  and  arches,  and 
old  monuments,  and  made  all  things  weird  and 
spectral.  Some  hundred  people  sat  there ;  and  the 
strange  thing  btjjan  its  wonderful  work  of  sound, 
calling  up  all  the  faculties  from  their  chambers — the 
watchmen  of  the  soul  from  their  citadels  and  ceils. 
How  it  groaned  through  the  old  building !  How 
those  wonderful  sounds  throbbed  against  the  pillars 
and  shook  them,  and  rumbled  along  beneath  our 
feet,  and  travelled  thrillingly  and  palpitatingly  over- 
head among  the  arches.  You  know  what  an  organ 
can  do  ;  how  it  can  sigh,  and  shout,  and  storm,  and 
rage ;  and  how  it  can  madden,  and  how  it  can 
soothe.  And  then,  when  the  wonderful  creature  I 
was  listening  to  had  poured  out  these  preludes  of  its 
power,  it  began  to  utter  some  marvellous  delirium 
of  music  (I  think  Mendelssohn's  Walpiirgis  Night)  ; 
it  imposed  on  the  imagination  the  whole  scenery 
of  a  wild  tempest — a  storm  of  nature  among  heaths 
and  mountains  !  The  thunder  rolled  near  and  far 
among  the  crags  ;  the  rain  hissed  in  the  wind  ;  the 
flash  of  the  lightning  went  by  you  !  the  storm 
possessed — it  overwhelmed  you  !  The  blasts  of  the 
tempest  and  the  bolts  of  the  thunder  were  like 
giant  spirits  striving  together  in  night  and  solitude ; 
while  fear,  and  terror,  and  awe,  and  horror,  held 
revelry  and  carnival.  And  then,  I  will  tell  you 
what  came — I  had  never  heard  it  before — I  thought 
it  was  a  human  voice.  Amidst  the  hurricane  on  the 
organ  it  rose  so  clear,  so  calm,  so  ineffably  restful 
and  light,  so  high  over  the  surges  and  the  wailing  of 
the  rain,  the  thunder,  and  the  wind.  It  was  the 
vox  huma?ia  stop,  that  wondrous  simulation,  the 
human  voice  stop,  the  mightiest  marvel  of  all  the 
artifices  of  music  ;  the  storm  continued,  but  still  it 
sang  on,  and  rose  on  the  wings  of  light  and  of 
sound,  over  all  the  hurricanes  that  hurried  from  the 
pipes  and  the  keys.  Then  I  thought  of  the  one 
Human- Voice  Stop  in  Time,  that  said,  "  Why  do 
the  heathen  rage,  and  the  people  imagine  a  vain 
thing  f  "  "  The  heathen  raged,  the  kingdoms  were 
moved:  He  UTTERED  His  voice  ;  the  earth  melted." 
Amidst  the  crash  of  kingdoms,  thrones,  peoples,  and 
opinions;  amidst  panics,   and   horrors,    and   feari, 


CHRIST. 


(    153   ) 


CHRIST. 


and  travails,  one  Voice,  and  only  one,  has  been 
heard.  One  human  voice,  able  to  sway  all  storms, 
to  pierce  to  and  sing  in  the  heavens,  high  above 
those  lower  regions  where  the  tempests  have  their 
home.  It  is  "  //i?  that  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the 
earth,"  who  has  spoken  to  us  by  His  Son,  the  voice 
including  every  human  chord — "  In  the  world  ye 
shall  have  tribulation,  but  in  Me  ye  shall  have 
peace.     Come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

—E.  F.  Hood. 

9.  Ourllfo. 

(885.)  Ch-'st  is  our  life.  How  /^/j  life  is  made 
to  be,  at  the  same  time,  our  own,  is  a  mystery  of 
grace,  of  which  you  have  seen  types  in  the  garden, 
where  just  now  so  many  millions  of  God's  thoughts 
are  springing  and  growing  into  beautiful  expression. 
You  once  grafted  something  on  to  a  fruit-tree.  The 
process,  though  delicate,  was  most  simple.  You 
only  had  to  be  careful  that  there  should  be  clean, 
clear,  close  contact  between  the  graft  and  the  tree. 
The  smallest  shred  or  filament  of  wrapping  round 
the  graft  would  have  prevented  the  life  of  the  tree 
from  flowing  into  it.  The  weak,  bleeding  graft 
was  fastened  on  to  the  strong  stem  just  as  it  was  : 
then  in  due  time  it  struck  ;  then  gradually  the  tiny 
slip  grew  into  the  flourishing  bough  ;  and  lately,  as 
you  stood  looking  at  that  miracle  of  tender  forma- 
tion and  soft  bright  flush,  you  almost  fancied  it 
was  conscious.  It  seemed  to  say,  "  I  live  ;  never- 
theless, not  I,  but  the  tree  liveth  in  me  ;  and  the 
life  I  now  live  in  the  foliage,  I  live  by  faith  in  the 
shaft  of  the  tree,  I  trust  to  the  tree  only  ;  every 
moment  I  am  clinging  to  it,  and  without  it  I  can 
do  nothing."  — Stanford. 

XI.  VARIOUS  EMBLEMS  OF  CHRIST. 

(886.)  Cast  thine  eyes  which  way  thou  wilt  and 
thou  shall  hardly  look  upon  anything  but  Christ. 
Jesus  has  taken  the  name  of  that  thing  upon  Him- 
self Is  it  day  ?  and  dost  thou  behold  the  sun  ?  He 
is  called  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  Or  is  it  night  ? 
and  dost  thou  behold  the  stars?  He  is  called  a  Star, 
"There  shall  come  a  Star  out  of  Jacob."  Or  is  it 
morning?  and  dost  thou  behold  the  morning  star? 
lie  is  called  "  the  bright  Morning  Star."  Or  is  it 
noon?  and  dost  thou  behold  clear  light  all  the  world 
over?  He  is  "  that  Light  that  lighteth  every  man 
that  cometh  into  the  world."  Come  nearer  :  if  thou 
lookest  upon  the  earth,  and  takest  a  view  of  the 
creatures  about  thee,  dost  thou  see  the  sheep?  "As 
a  sheep  before  her  shearer  is  dumb."  Or  seest  thou 
a  lamb  ?  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God."  Seest  thou 
a  shepherd  watching  over  his  flock  ?  "I  am  the 
Good  Shepherd."  Or  seest  thou  a  fountain,  waters, 
rivers?  lie  is  a  Fountain.  Or  seest  thou  a  tree  good 
for  food,  or  a  flower  ?  He  is  "  the  Tree  of  Life,  and 
the  Lily  of  the  Valley,  and  the  Rose  of  Sharon." 
Art  thou  adorning  tliyself,  and  taking  a  view  of  thy 
garments?  "  Fut  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Art 
thou  eating  meat,  and  taking  a  view  of  what  thou 
hast  on  thy  table  He  is  the  Bread  of  God  ;  the 
true  Bread  from  Heaven  ;  the  Bread  of  Life. 

— A  mbrose. 

XII.  TYPICAL  REFERENCES  TO  CHRIST. 

1.  Jacob's  ladder. 

(887.)  Some  writers  appear  anxious  ;o  prove  that 
Uie  appearance  which  the   patriarch  saw    was    not 


precisely  tha*.  of  a  ladder,  but  probably  that  of  a 
pyramid  or  pillar.  There  is  a  want  of  dignity, 
they  think,  in  the  image  of  a  ladder,  and  they  would 
therefore  substitute  a  more  imposing.  But  though 
many  of  the  same  truths  might  be  taught,  if  there 
were  the  supposed  change  in  the  emblem,  we  are 
no  ways  affected  by  the  homeliness  of  the  figure,  but 
think,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  adds  to  its  fitness. 
It  was  the  declaration  of  prophecy  in  regard  to 
the  Christ,  "  He  hath  no  form  norcoraeliness  ;  and 
when  we  shall  see  Him,  there  is  no  beauty  that  we 
should  desire  Him."  And  therefore,  if  He  is  to  be 
delineated  as  connecting  earth  and  heaven,  we 
should  expect  the  image  to  be  that  of  a  ladder,  a 
common  instrument,  with  nothing  of  the  grand  and 
atttactive,  rather  than  of  a  splendid  tower,  such  as 
that  of  Babel,  which  men  themselves  would  delight  to 
rear,  and  when  reared  to  admire.  Besides,  how- 
ever, we  would  avoid  the  straining  a  type.  We  own 
that  the  representation  of  Christ,  under  the  figure 
of  a  ladder,  appears  to  us  to  include  the  most  exact 
references  to  the  appointed  mode  of  salvation.  How 
do  I  look  to  be  saved  ?  by  clinging  to  Christ.  How 
do  I  expect  to  ascend  up  to  heaven  ?  by  mounting 
step  by  step,  the  whole  height  of  Christ's  work,  so 
that  He  is  made  unto  me  of  God,  "wisdom,  and 
righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  redemption." 
It  is  no  easy  thing,  the  gaining  eternal  life  through 
the  finished  work  of  the  Mediator.  It  is  a  vast 
deal  more  than  the  sitting  with  the  prophet  in  his 
car  of  fire,  and  being  borne  aloft,  without  effort,  to 
an  incorruptible  inheritance.  "The  kingdom  of 
heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by 
force."  There  must  be,  if  we  may  thus  express  it,  a 
holding  fast  to  Christ,  and  a  climbing  up  to  Christ ; 
to  look  back  is  to  grow  dizzy,  to  let  go  is  to  perish. 
And  that  we  are  to  mount  by  the  Mediator,  and, 
all  the  while,  to  keep  hold  of  the  Mediator ;  that 
we  are  in  short  to  ascend  by  succe.ssive  stages, 
stretching  the  hand  to  one  lin*  after  another  in  the 
work  of  the  Redeemer,  and  planting  the  foot  on 
one  step  after  another  in  the  covenant  made  with 
us  in  Christ — what  can  more  aptly  exhibit  this,  than 
the  exhibiting  Christ  as  a  ladder,  set  upon  tht  earth 
that  men  may  scale  the  heavens  ?  The  necessity  for 
our  striving,  and  yet  the  uselessness  of  that  striving, 
if  not  exerted  in  the  right  manner  ;  the  impossibility 
of  our  entering  heaven  except  through  Christ,  and 
the  equal  impossibility  of  our  entering  it,  without 
effort  and  toil  ;  the  fearful  peril  of  our  relaxing,  for 
an  instant,  our  spiritual  vigilance  and  earnestness, 
seeing  that  we  hang,  as  it  were,  between  earth  and 
heaven,  and  may  betlirown  by  a  moment's  careless- 
ness, headlong  to  the  ground  ;  the  completeness  and 
singleness  of  the  salvation  which  is  in  Jesus,  so 
that,  if  we  adhere  to  it,  it  is  sufficient,  but  there  are 
no  modes  which  meet  in  it,  or  branch  off  from  it ; 
swerve  a  single  inch,  and  you  have  no  footing,  but 
must  be  hopelessly  precipitated  :  all  these  particu- 
lars seem  indicated  under  the  imagery  of  a  ladder, 
and  could  not  perhaps  have  been  equally  marked, 
had  some  other  emblem  been  given  of  the  connect* 
ing  of  earth  and  heaven  by  the  Mediator  Christ. 
—Melvill,  1 798-1871. 

XIII.    HIS   OFFICES. 

1.  Our  representative. 

(888.)  As  the  burgess  of  a  town  or  corporation, 
sitting  in  the  parliament  house,  beareth  the  person 
of  that  whole  town  or  place,  and  what  he  saith  the 


CHRIST. 


(    154    ) 


CHRIS ; 


whole  town  saith,  and  what  is  done  to  him  is  done 
to  tlie  whole  town,  even  so  Christ  upon  the  cross 
stood  .n  our  place  and  bare  our  persons,  and  what- 
soever He  suKered  we  suffered,  and  when  He  died 
all  died  with  Him — all  the  faithful  died  in  Him, 
and,  as  He  is  risen  again,  so  the  faithful  are  risen 
in  Him.  —Boys,  1 560-1643. 

a.  Our  mediator. 

(889.)  His  mediatorship  includes  His  appearing 
for  us  in  heaven,  His  owning  of  our  cause,  and  ot 
our  souls  to  God  the  Father  :  "  Christ  is  not  entered 
into  the  holy  place  made  with  hands,  but  into 
heaven,  now  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  God  for 
us."  He  does  not  in  an  ordinary  way  and  manner 
appear  for  us  in  heaven  ;  but  with  an  emphasis,  He 
does  openly  and  publicly,  before  all  the  saints  and 
angels,  appear  for  us  in  the  presence  of  God  the 
Father.  It  is  a  comfort  unto  a  man  sometimes  to 
have  a  good  friend  at  court,  at  the  king's  elbow, 
that  may  own  him  and  appear  for  him  ;  but  though 
a  man  have  a  friend  at  court,  sometimes  if  there  be 
any  danger,  he  will  not  appear  and  own  him  ;  it 
may  be  he  will  own  him,  and  countenance  his  cause 
as  long  as  there  is  no  danger,  but  no  longer.  But 
now,  here  we  have  a  Friend  in  heaven,  that  will 
appear  for  us,  and  own  our  causes,  and  onr  souls, 
and  in  all  conditions  appear  for  us. 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(890.)  WTiat  doth  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Christ, 
our  great  High  Priest,  when  He  offers  up  our  gifts 
unto  God  the  Father? 

First,  He  doth  take  our  persons,  and  carries  them 
in  unto  God  fhe  Father,  in  a  most  unperceivable 
way  to  us.  He  knows  that  if  our  persons  be  not 
first  accepted,  our  duty  cannot  be  accepted. 

Secondly,  As  He  doth  take  our  persons,  and  lead 
and  carry  us  into  the  presence  of  God  the  Father  : 
so,  when  we  do  perform  any  duty,  He  doth  observe 
what  evil  or  failing  there  is  in  that  duty,  and  draws 
it  out,  takes  it  away  before  he  presents  the  duty 
unto  God  the  Father.  A  child  that  would  present 
his  father  a  nosegay,  goes  into  the  garden,  and  he 
gathers  flowers  and  weeds  together  ;  but  coming  to 
his  mother,  she  takes  them,  and  picks  out  the  weeds, 
and  binds  up  the  flowers  by  themselves,  and  so  it  is 
presented  to  the  father.  Thus  it  is  with  us  :  we  go 
to  duty,  and  we  gather  weeds  and  flowers  together  ; 
but  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  comes  and  picks  out  the 
wcetls,  and  then  He  presents  nothing  but  flowers 
unto  G  xi  the  Father.  — Bridge,  1600- 1670. 

(891.)  A  mediator  is  considered  in  two  ways,  by 
nature  or  by  office,  as  the  Fathers  distinguish.  He 
is  a  mediator  by  nature,  as  partaking  of  both 
natures,  divine  and  human  ;  and  mediator  by  office, 
as  transacting  matters  between  God  and  man. 

—  Waterland, 

8.  Otir  Intercessor. 

(892.)  Christ's  presence  and  employment  in 
heaven  -ays  a  strong  engagement  on  God  to  bring 
1-1  is  wliole  force  and  power  into  the  field  upon  all 
occasions  for  His  saints'  defence.  One  special  end 
of  His  journey  to  heaven,  and  abode  there,  is,  that 
He  might  (as  the  saints'  solicitor)  be  ever  interced- 
ing for  such  supplies  and  succours  of  His  Father, 
as  their  exigencies  call  for  ;  and  the  more  to  assure 
us  of  the  same  before  He  went,  He  did  (as  it  were) 
tell  us,  what  heads  He  meant  to  go  upon  in  His 


intercession,  when  He  should  come  there  ;  one  of 
which  was  this,  That  His  Father  should  keep  His 
children  while  they  were  to  stay  in  the  warld,  from 
the  evil  thereof  (John  xvii.  15).  Neither  doth 
Christ  take  upon  Him  this  work  of  His  own  head, 
but  hath  the  same  appointment  of  His  Father,  for 
what  He  now  prays  in  heaven,  as  He  had  for  what 
He  suffered  on  earth.  He  that  ordained  Him  a 
priest  to  die  for  sinners,  did  not  then  strip  Him  of 
His  priestly  garments  (as  Aaron)  but  appoints  Him 
to  ascend  in  them  to  heaven,  where  He  sits  a  priest 
for  ever  by  God's  oath.  And  this  office  of  inter- 
cession was  erected  purely  in  mercy  to  believers, 
that  they  might  have  full  content  given  them  for  the 
performance  of  all  that  God  had  promised  ;  so  that 
Jesus  Christ  lies  lieger  at  court  as  our  ambassador, 
to  see  all  carried  fairly  between  God  and  us  accord- 
ing to  agreement  :  and  if  Christ  follow  His  business 
closely,  and  be  faithful  in  His  place  to  believers,  all 
is  well.  And  doth  it  not  behove  Him  to  be  so,  who 
intercedes  ioy  such  dear  relations  ?  Suppose  a 
king's  son  should  get  out  of  a  besieged  city,  where 
he  hath  left  his  wife  and  children  (whom  he  loves 
as  his  own  soul)  and  these  all  ready  to  die  by  sword 
or  famine,  if  supply  come  not  the  sooner  ;  could 
this  prince,  when  arrived  at  his  father's  house,  please 
himself  with  the  delights  of  the  court,  and  forget 
the  distress  of  his  family?  Or  rather  would  he  not 
come  post  to  his  father  (having  their  cries  and 
groans  always  in  his  ears)  and  before  he  eat  or 
drink,  do  his  errand  to  his  father,  and  entreat  him 
if  ever  he  loved  him,  that  he  would  send  all  the 
force  of  his  kingdom  to  raise  the  siege,  rather  than 
any  of  his  dear  relations  should  perisli  ?  Surely, 
sirs,  though  Christ  be  at  the  top  of  His  preferment, 
and  out  of  the  storm  in  regard  of  His  own  person, 
yet  His  children,  left  behind  in  the  midst  of  sins, 
Satans,  and  the  world's  batteries,  are  in  His  heart, 
and  shall  not  be  forgotten  a  moment  by  Him. 

— Gitrnali,  1617-1679. 

(893.)  Based  upon  the  atonement  is  the  inter- 
cession of  Christ.  "  If  any  man  sin  we  have  an 
Advocate  with  the  Father."  He  is  there  to-day 
advocating  our  cause.  Whether  He  presents  His 
petitions  in  words  or  not  I  cannot  tell.  Perhaps 
His  presence  there  is  quite  enough.  We  read  that 
Qischylus  was  condemned  to  death  by  the  Athenians, 
and  about  to  be  led  to  execution.  His  brother, 
Amyntas,  had  signalised  himself  in  the  service  of 
his  country,  and  just  as  his  brother  was  condemned 
he  entered  the  court.  He  came  in,  and,  without 
saying  a  word,  he  lifted  up  his  arm  — the  stump  of 
his  arm,  for  he  had  lost  his  h.ind  in  battle.  He 
lifted  it  up  in  the  sight  of  all  but  said  not  a  word, 
and  when  the  judges  saw  this  mark  of  suffering  they 
forgave  the  guilty  brother  for  the  sake  of  hmi  who 
had  imperilled  his  life  in  behalf  of  the  country. 
And  perhaps  Jesus  Christ  has  only  to  present  Him- 
self before  the  throne  of  His  Father  and  show  the 
marks  of  suffering  to  obtain  acquittal  and  pardon 
for  transgressors.  — y.  C.  jfcnes, 

4.  Our  example. 

(894.)  When  Alexander  the  Great  marched 
through  Persia,  his  way  was  stopped  with  ice  and 
snow,  insomuch  that  his  soldiers,  being  tired  out 
with  hard  marches,  were  discouraged  and  would 
have  gone  no  further,  which  he  perceiving,  dis- 
mounted his  horse,  and  went  on  foot  through  the 
I  midst  of  them  all,   making  himself  a  way  with  a 


CHRIST. 


(     155    ) 


CHRIST. 


pickaxe ;  whereat  they  all  being  ashamed,  first  his 
friends,  then  Uie  captains  of  his  army,  and  last  of 
all  the  common  soldiers,  followed  hi»>.  So  should 
all  men  follow  Christ  their  Saviour,  by  that  rough 
and  unpleasant  way  of  the  cross  that  He  hath  gone 
before  them — He  having  drank  unto  them  the  cup 
of  ills  passion,  they  are  to  pledge  Him  when  occa- 
sion is  offered  ;  lie  having  left  them  an  example  of 
His  suHering,  they  are  to  follow  Him  in  the  self- 
same step^  of  sorrow.  —  Spencer,  1658. 

(895.)  Tt  is  reported  in  the  Bohemian  story,  that 
S.  Wenceslaus,  their  king,  one  winter  night  going 
to  his  devotions  in  a  remote  church,  barefooted  in 
the  snow  and  sharpness  of  unequal  and  pointed  ice, 
his  servant,  Podavivus,  who  waited  upon  his  master's 

Eiety,  and  endeavoured  to  imitate  his  affections, 
egan  to  faint  through  the  violence  of  the  snow  and 
cold,  till  the  king  commanded  him  to  follow  +iim 
and  set  his  feet  in  the  same  footsteps  which  his  feet 
should  mark  for  him  ;  the  servant  did  so,  and  either 
fancied  a  cure  or  found  one,  for  he  followed  his 
prince,  helped  forward  by  shame  and  zeal  for  his 
imitation,  and  by  the  forming  footsteps  for  him  in 
the  snow.  In  the  same  manner  does  the  blessed 
Jesus  :  for  since  our  way  is  troublesome,  obscure, 
full  of  objections  and  danger,  apt  to  be  mistaken 
and  to  affright  our  industry,  He  commands  us  to 
mark  His  footsteps,  to  tread  where  His  feet  have 
stood,  and  not  only  invites  us  forward  by  the  argu- 
ment of  His  example,  but  He  hath  trodden  down 
much  of  the  difficulty,  and  made  the  way  easier  and 
fit  for  our  feet.  For  He  knows  our  infirmities,  and 
Himself  hath  felt  their  experience  in  all  things  but 
in  the  neighbourhoods  of  sin  ;  and  therefore  He  hath 
proportioned  a  way  and  a  path  to  our  strength  and 
caj>acities,  and,  like  Jacob,  hath  marched  soltly  and 
in  evenness  with  the  children  and  cattle,  to  entertain 
us  by  the  comfort  of  If  is  company  and  the  influence 
of  a  perpetual  guide. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(896  )  Ths  master  doth  not  only  rule  the  scholar's 
book  for  him,  but  writes  him  a  copy  with  his  own 
hand.  Christ's  command  is  our  rule  ;  His  life  our 
copy.  If  thou  wilt  walk  hoiily,  thou  must  not  only 
endeavour  to  do  what  Christ  commands,  but  as 
Christ  Himself  did  ;  thou  must  labour  to  shape 
every  letter  in  thy  copy,  action  in  thy  life,  in  a  holy 
imitation  of  Jesus.  — Gumall,  161 7-1679. 

(897.)  Blessed  be  God  for  this  example — for  the 
glory  of  the  condescension,  patience,  faith,  and  en- 
durance of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  extremity  of  all  sorts 
of  sufferings.  This  hath  been  the  pole-star  of  the 
Church  in  all  its  storms.         — Uweu,  1616-1683. 

(898.)  Our  religion  sets  before  us,  not  the  example 
of  a  stupid  stoic  who  had  by  obstinate  principles 
hardened  himself  against  all  sense  of  pain  beyond 
the  common  measures  of  humanity,  but  an  example 
of  a  man  like  ourselves,  that  had  a  tender  sense  of 
the  least  suffering,  and  yet  patiently  endured  the 
greatest.  — 1  illotson,  1630- 1694. 

(899.)  I  have  read  of  a  distinguished  general  who 
conducted  an  army  by  forced  marches,  through  a 
sterile  as  well  as  hostile  country.  They  were  foot- 
soie,  worn,  and  weary  ;  supplied  with  the  scantiest 
fare,  and  toiling  all  day  long,  through  heavy  sands, 
and  beneath  a  scorching  sun.  Yet  his  brave  men 
pressed  on—  such  as  fell  out  of  the  line  by  day,   un- 


less shot  down  by  the  foe,  who  crouched  like  tigers 
in  every  bush,  and  hung  m  clouds  on  their  flanks 
and  rear,  rejoining  their  ranks  in  the  cool  and  dark- 
ness of  the  night.  Thus  this  gallant  army,  undaunted 
and  indomitable,  accomplished  a  great  achievement 
in  arms.  And  how?  They  were  inspired  by  their 
commander.  Foregoing  the  privileges  of  his  rank, 
he  dismounted  from  his  horse  to  put  iiimself  not 
only  at  the  head  of  his  men,  but  on  a  level  with  them. 
He  shared  their  hard  bed  ;  he  lived  on  their  scanty 
rations  ;  every  foot  they  walked,  he  walked  ;  every 
foe  they  faced,  he  faced  ;  every  hardship  they 
endured,  he  bore  ;  and  with  cheek  as  brovvn,  and 
limbs  as  weary,  and  couch  as  rude  as  theirs,  he 
came  down  to  their  condition — touched  by  their  in- 
firmities, and  teaching  them  by  his  example  what 
part  to  act  and  with  what  patience  to  endure. 
They  would  have  followed  him  to  the  cannon's 
mouth — his  cry  not  Forward,  but  Follow. 

— Guthrie. 

(900.)  In  looking  at  Jesus  Christ,  as  He  moves 
high  and  apart  from  all  of  us  in  His  perfectly  spotless 
life,  one  sometimes  feels  as  we  have  felt  when  gazing 
on  the  bright  but  distant  glory  of  a  star  that  holds 
on  its  lofty  course  through  the  far  realms  of  space. 
We  wislt  to  be  like  Christ  ;  we  long  to  be  like 
Christ  ;  but  to  reach  His  high,  and  holy,  and  pure, 
and  spotless  character,  seems  to  be  like  wishing  to 
reach  that  orb  so  beautiful,  and  bright,  ano  Icvely, 
where  haply  sorrow  never  weeps,  and  sin  has  never 
entered.  But  to  rise  to  His  example,  to  attain  to 
His  holy  and  blameless  life,  ah  !  that  seems  as  im- 
possible as  to  climb  the  ethereal  heights  where  that 
bright  orb  is  shining,  as  it  shone  on  Eden,  and 
shall  shine  when  the  judgment  of  this  world  is  come. 
We  say  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?  The 
one  seems  at  times  as  impracticable  and  impossible 
as  the  other. 

Impossible  !  With  God  all  things  are  possible. 
He  has  never  promised  th.»t  we  shall  reach  the  one  ; 
but  His  truth  and  His  Word  are  pledged  for  it,  that 
we  shall  attain  to  the  other.  — Guthrie. 

(901.)  Endeavour  to  follow  the  Great  Shepherd 
habitually.  The  Syrian  sheep  does  not  follow  its 
shepherd  by  fits  and  starts  ;  seeking  to  be  near  him 
only  when  the  wolf  is  prowling,  or  when  the  dog  is 
on  its  track;  when  the  night  shadows  are  falling,  or 
the  pasture  is  diminishing.  It  is  generally  found 
close  to  its  protector  and  guide.  It  is  an  undeviating, 
trustful  companionship,  in  sunshine  and  storm,  in 
fulness  and  in  drought,  in  summer  and  winter. 

So  it  is,  or  ought  to  be,  with  the  believer  ; — a 
constant,  consistent,  habitual  following  of  his  Lord, 
seeking  ever  to  have  a  realising  sense  of  His  near- 
ness. Not  merely  when  trouble  is  nigh  ;  in  the 
hour  of  atfiiction  and  sad  calamity,  or  of  impeniling 
death  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  life's  joyous  sunshine, 
when  verdure  is  on  the  mountain  side,  when  the 
rills  are  singing  their  way  down  to  the  lower  valley, 
and  the  tinkling  bells,  answering  from  fold  to  fold, 
tell  of  nothing  but  peace,  and  salety,  and  repose. 

—MacdaJ. 

{902.)  Christ's  example  is  opposed,  not  to  tem« 
perance,  but  to  asceticism.  Even  the  example  of 
Jesus  Christ  must  be  followed  in  the  light  of  com- 
mon sen.se.  What  He  might  do  in  one  age  or 
nation  we  may  find  perilous  in  a  different  slate  of 
.society.     It  is  our  bounden  dut^  to  abstain  from  that 


CHRIST. 


(     156    ) 


CHRIST. 


which  causeth  our  brother  to  offend,  whether  it  be 
meat  or  wine.  But  let  us  always  distrust  those 
who  twist  the  plain  language  of  Scripture  in  an  en- 
deavour to  prove  that  what  Christ  drank  was  not 
wine.  — Eggleston. 

XIV.  HOW^  HIS  CHARACTER  IS  TO  BE 
STUDIED. 

(903.)  In  the  character  of  our  Lord,  the  more  we 
examine  the  more  we  shall  break  upon  new  beauties, 
and  fresh  convictions  of  its  loveliness.  When  we 
stand  upon  some  eminence  and  look  down  long 
vistas  of  landscape,  the  eye  is  so  enchanted  with  the 
combination  that  it  cannot  at  first  examine,  or  even 
perceive,  the  details  of  beauty  that  subsequently  dis- 
covered make  appreciation  deeper  than  first  im- 
pressions were  delightful.  It  is  so  in  the  character 
of  Christ.  We  are  struck  with  the  combinations  of 
virtues  :  but  it  is  after  mature  and  pondering  obser- 
vation that  the  nice  beauties  and  rare  excellencies 
of  that  sublime  liie  present  themselves  to  our  detec- 
tion. And,  to  sustain  the  comparison,  I  may  add, 
that  as  in  the  landscape  many  of  the  finest  points  of 
the  picture  lie  in  shadow  and  are  obscured  until  the 
light  (which  always  plays  in  flitting  masses  upon  the 
banks  of  mountains)  suddenly  strikes  upon  these 
particular  spots,  and  lifting  them  out  of  their  dim- 
ness invests  them  with  peculiar  brilliancy  and  attrac- 
tion to  our  eyes  :  so  it  is  in  surveying  the  character 
of  our  Lord.  Points  that  have  lain  obscure,  and 
have  escaped  our  minute  attention,  suddenly  startle 
us  with  their  vivid  excellence,  as  the  light  and 
inward  illumination  of  God's  Spirit  pour  life  and 
meaning  into  words  that  have  heretofore  given  no 
admonition  to  our  hearts.  — Bellew, 

(904.)  If  you  desireio  fashion  Him  to  your  mind 
that  your  heart  may  love  Him,  I  will  tell  you  how.  Sit 
down  and  read  His  life — not  in  parts  ;  not  a  chapter 
one  day,  and  another  the  next  ;  not  a  paragraph 
with  your  coat  and  hat  at  your  elbow,  ready  to  start 
for  New  York  ;  but  read  His  life  straight  through, 
giving  your  mind  and  your  heart  time  to  take  in  the 
meaning  of  what  you  read.  Thus  you  may  view 
Him  in  His  loveliness,  and  your  affections  cannot 
fail  of  being  touched.  If  you  went  into  an  artist's 
studio  to  look  at  the  picture  of  some  distinguished 
person  of  whose  appearance  you  wished  to  get  a  clear 
idea,  how  do  you  think  it  would  answer  to  have,  at 
your  first  visit,  all  of  that  painted  face,  except  the  fore- 
head, covered  ?  Looking  at  that  a  little  while,  you 
go  away,  and  come  again  the  following  day.  The 
forehead  is  covered  now  and  the  lower  parts  of  the 
face,  but  the  eyes  are  visible.  You  look  at  them 
a  few  moments  and  go  away  as  before.  The  next 
day  they  gave  you  a  view  of  the  nose,  exclusively  ; 
the  next  you  behold  the  upper  lip  ;  next  they  gave 
you  the  lower  lip,  and  finally  the  chin.  Now  you  have 
seen  the  whole  face  ;  but  do  you  know  how  it  looks  ? 
No,  you  don't.  You  can  form  no  idea  of  the  eftect 
of  such  a  combination  of  features  ;  you  can't  imagine 
what  the  expression  of  the  face  is  ;  you  don't  know 
it  from  Adam's.  Now,  who  would  for  a  moment 
put  up  with  such  portrait-seeing?  We  say  when 
we  come  up  before  a  picture,  "  Get  out  of  the  way  : 
let  me  see  the  whole  effect  of  this."  But  it  is  in  this 
disiected  manner  that  men  look  at  the  character  of 
Christ.  Not  so  do  they  study  Washington,  nor 
any  other  man  of  whose  character  they  wish  to  form 
an  opinion,  and  of  whose  personal  deserts  they  wish 


to  judge.  Why  should  Christ  be  so  unjustly  treated  ? 
Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  there  are  four  lives  of 
Christ,  each  one  written  by  men  of  different  minds, 
that  all  forms  of  minds  might  be  suited  ?  Study 
those  lives  by  the  whole,  and  you  will  find  how  to 
love  Him.  — Beech  fr, 

XV.  HO]V  HIS  CLAIMS  ARE  TO  BE 
TESTED. 

(905.)  As  this  image  of  God,  the  holiness  of  the 
soul,  is  the  very  end  and  work  of  a  true  Saviour,  so 
the  true  effecting  of  it  on  all  true  Christians  is  actually 
their  begun  salvation  ;  and  therefore  the  standing 
infallible  witness  of  Christ,  which  should  confound 
unbelief  in  all  that  are  indeed  His  own. 
.  This  is  a  testimony  in  every  holy  soul,  which  the 
gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against.  He  that 
undertaketh  to  cure  all  of  the  plague,  or  stone,  or 
gout,  or  fever,  that  will  take  his  medicines,  and  be 
ruled  by  him,  is  certainly  no  deceiver  if  he  do  that 
which  he  undertaketh.  He  that  undertaketh  to 
teach  all  men  arithmetic,  geometry,  astronomy, 
music,  &c.,  who  will  come  and  learn  of  him  is  cer- 
tainly no  deceiver  if  he  do  it.  What  is  it  that 
Jesus  Christ  hath  undertaken  ?  think  of  that,  and 
then  tell  me  whether  He  be  a  deceiver.  He  never 
undertook  to  make  His  disciples  kings,  or  lords,  or 
rich,  or  honourable  in  the  world  ;  nor  yet  to  make 
them  the  best  logicians,  orators,  astronomers,  mathe- 
maticians, physicians  musicians,  &c.,  but  to  make 
them  the  best  men  :  to  renew  them  to  the  love  of 
God  in  holiness,  and  thereby  to  save  them  from  their 
sins,  and  give  them  repentance  unto  life.  Nor  hath 
He  promised  this  to  all  that  are  baptized  or  called 
Christians,  but  only  to  those  that  sincerely  consent 
to  learn  of  Him,  and  take  His  counsel,  and  use  the 
remedies  which  He  prescribeth  them.  And  is  it  not 
certain  that  Christ  doth  truly  perform  this  under- 
taking ?  How,  then,  can  He  be  a  deceiver,  who 
doth  perform  all  that  He  undertaketh  ?  Of  this  all 
true  Christians  have  a  just  demonstration  in  them- 
selves, which  is  His  witness. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(906.)  He  that  will  but  inquire  into  the  Gospel 
and  receive  it  and  obey  it  so  far  as  he  hath  reason 
to  do  it,  and  not  be  false  to  his  own  reason  and 
interest,  shall  receive  that  renewing,  sanctifying, 
spirit,  which  will  be  an  abiding  witness  in  himself. 
But  if  he  will  reject  known  truth,  and  refuse  known 
duty,  and  neglect  the  most  reasonable  means  that 
are  proposed  to  him,  he  must  blame  himself  if  he 
continue  in  unbelief,  and  want  that  evidence  which 
others  have.  Suppose  that  in  a  common  plague,  one 
physician  should  he  famed  to  be  the  only  and  infal- 
lible curer  of  all  that  take  his  remedies  ;  and  suppose 
many  defame  him,  and  say,  "  He  is  but  a  deceiver," 
and  others  tell  you,  "  He  hath  cured  us,  and  many 
thousands,  and  we  can  easily  convince  you  that 
his  remedies  have  nothing  in  them  that  is  hurtful, 
and  therefore  you  may  safely  try  them,  especially 
having  no  other  help."  He  that  wili  so  far  believe 
in  him,  and  trust  him  now,  as  to  try  his  remeujc^ 
may  live  ;  but  he  that  will  not,  must  blame  none 
but  himself  if  he  die  of  his  disease.  He  that  trieth, 
shall  know  by  his  cure  and  experience,  that  his 
physician  is  no  deceiver  ;  and  he  that  will  not,  and 
yet  complaineth  that  he  wanteth  that  experimental 
knowledge,  doth  but  talk  like  a  peevish  self- 
destroyer.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 


CHRIST. 


f     157     ) 


CHRIST. 


XVI.  HIS  RE  LA  TION  TO   THE  LA  W. 

(907.)  The  earth  bringeth  forth  fruit  of  itself, 
but  first  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  after  that  the 
full  corn  in  the  ear.  So  did  the  blade  spring  out 
of  the  law  of  nature  ;  the  ear  in  the  law  written  ; 
but  we  have  in  the  Gospel  the  pure  grain,  or  full 
corn,  which  is  Christ  Jesus.  Therefore,  as  the  stalk 
or  ear  are  of  necessary  use  till  the  corn  be  ripe,  but, 
the  corn  being  ripe,  we  no  longer  use  the  chaff  with 
it  :  so,  till  Christ  was  exhibited  in  the  flesh,  which 
lay  hidden  in  the  blade  and  spike  of  the  law,  the 
ceremonies  had  their  use;  but  since  that,  by  His 
death  and  passion,  this  pure  wheat  is  threshed  and 
winnowed,  and  by  His  ascension  laid  up  in  the 
garner  of  heaven — they  are  of  no  further  use.  The 
Jews  were  taught  by  those  shadows  that  the  body 
should  come,  and  we  know  by  the  same  shadows 
that  the  body  is  come  ;  the  arrow  moveth  whilst  it 
flielh  at  the  mark,  but,  having  hit  the  mark,  resteth 
in  it  :  so  the  law,  which  did  level  and  shoot  at  Christ 
with  so  many  movable  signs  and  sacraments,  (as  one 
may  say)  cease  from  her  motion  of  practising  them 
any  more,  having  attained  to  her  full  end  in  Christ 
Jesus.  — Spencer,  1658. 

(908.)  Christ  fulfilled  the  law.  Summer  fulfils 
spring ;  noon  fulfils  morning  ;  the  fruit  fulfils  the 
blossom ;  manhood  fulfils  infancy. 

— Joseph  Parker. 

XVII,  HIS  METHOD  OF  TEACHING. 

(909.)  His  mode  of  speaking  of  heaven  is  like 
that  of  a  prince  who,  having  been  educated  in  a 
splendid  court,  could  speak  with  ease  of  many 
magnificent  things,  at  the  sudden  view  of  which 
a  peasant  would  be  swallowed  up  in  astonishment, 
and  would  find  himself  greatly  embarrassed  in  an 
attempt  to  explain  them  to  his  equals  at  home. 

—Doddridge. 

(910.)  In  a  numerous  collection  of  our  Saviour's 
apophthegms  there  is  not  to  be  found  one  example 
of  sophistry  or  of  false  subtility,  or  of  anything' 
approaching  thereunto.  — Faley, 

(qii.)  It  is  very  striking  that  the  very  means  of 
instruction  which  our  Lord  adojjted  should  have 
hid  the  truth  even  from  His  followers.  The 
parables  of  Christ  were  sometimes  obscure  and 
confounded  to  His  foes  ;  that  is  not  strange.  Where 
there  is  no  taste  or  desire  for  instruction,  the 
clearest  and  simplest  lessons  may  be  vain.  How 
much  sooner  we  detect  what  we  are  familiar  with 
than  what  is  strange  ;  how  much  sooner  understand 
what  \ve  love  than  what  we  hate,  how  much  sooner 
recognise  what  we  expect  than  what  we  have  no 
thought  of  meeting.  "  Therefore  speak  I  to  them 
in  parables  ;  because  seeing  they  see  not,  and  hear- 
ing they  hear  not,  neither  do  they  understand."  It 
was  a  judgment,  but  not  an  arbitrary  and  cruel  one. 
It  was  a  punishment  which  the  blinded  deserved, 
and  it  was  one  which  they  inflicted  uj)on  themsehes. 
Parables  were  among  the  easiest  and  most  interest- 
ing methods  of  instruction.  They  acklressed  a 
Variety  of  powers ;  and  thus  were  suited  to  a  variety 
of  minds,  and  a  variety  of  faculties  in  the  same 
tnind.  They  suited  all  ages  and  stages  of  mental 
development,  were  windows  through  which  any 
kind  of  eyes  might  see  the  truth.  But  if  the  eye 
was  at  fault  and  could  not  see,  or  could  Dot  see 


aright,  then  tKe  windows  had  no  use ;  and  the 
means  of  light  conveyed  no  image,  or  a  false  one. 
There  is  often,  and  especially  in  moral  matters, 
more  in  the  learner  than  the  lessons  ;  and  as  an 
ancient  heathen  said,  "  Wise  men  learn  more  from 
fools  than  fools  learn  from  wise  men."  The  carnal 
listeners  to  Christ  suggested  more  truth  to  Mim  than 
they  received  from  Him.  Even  the  symbolic  illus- 
tration of  the  truth,  which  should  have  revealed  it, 
concealed  it.  It  is  so  still.  To  the  gross  and  earthly 
the  sign  hides  the  reality  it  should  make  known  ;  the 
instrument  obscures  the  agent  it  should  discover,  the 
form  weakens  the  power  it  should  assist  ;  the  symbol 
covers  up  the  truth  it  should  display  ;  and  however 
much  men  may,  like  the  Jews,  admire  the  miracle, 
they,  like  the  Jews,  care  nothing  for  the  "sign." 
Parables  would  have  been  no  judgment,  if  there 
had  been  no  obtuseness  and  perverseness  in  the 
hearers.  Only  the  weak  of  sight  are  chastised  by 
light ;  only  wrongtloers  have  "  coals  of  fire  "  heaped 
on  their  heads  by  love.  — A.  y.  Morris. 

XVIII.    HIS  SUFFERINGS  AND  DEATH. 

1.  Were  necessary  for  our  salvation. 

(912.)  Doubtless  all  things  are  possible  to  God; 
but  yet  with  one  limitation,  that  they  must  be  things 
consistent  with  those  supreme  moral  attributes,  that 
truth,  that  righteousness,  that  love,  stripped  of  which, 
God  would  not  be  God  any  more.  And  keeping 
all  this  in  view,  it  is  not,  I  think,  too  much  to 
affirm,  it  is  not  overboldly  said,  that  there  was  no 
other  way  but  this  of  the  Incarnation  of  the  Son  of 
God,  followed  as  that  was  by  His  life  of  obedience, 
His  death  of  propitiation,  His  resurrection  in  power. 
His  ascension  in  glory,  whereby  men  could  be  saved. 
What  should  we  think  of  a  king,  some  of  whose 
people  were  in  bitter  bondage  in  a  foreign  land,  if 
he,  knowing  that  he  might  have  them  back  by 
simply  sending  for  them,  or  at  most  by  paying  a 
ransom  of  silver  and  gold,  chose  instead  of  this, 
and  when  this  was  free  to  him,  to  send  his  own  son 
to  serve  that  bitter  bondage  in  their  stead,  to  endure 
all  outrages,  indignities,  wrongs,  even  death  itself 
in  obtainmg  their  release?  Would  their  wisdom  or 
love  shine  out  gloriously  here?  Could  he  reason- 
ably demand  the  boundless  gratitude  of  the  ran- 
somed on  the  ground  of  the  costly  sacrifice  which 
their  deliverance  entailed,  when  that  deliverance 
might  have  been  etiected  at  so  much  easier  and 
cheaper  a  rate  ?  No,  when  God  chose  that  costliest 
means  of  our  deliverance,  sending  His  own  Son  in 
the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh  and  Tor  sin,  we  may  be 
quite  sure  that  at  no  lower  price  would  our  redemp- 
tion have  been  possible,  that  nothing  short  of  this 
could  have  satisfied  that  righteousness  of  His,  which 
He  was  bound  to  maintain  ;  which  He  could  not 
forego,  without  shaking  to  their  strong  foundation 
those  eternal  pillars  on  which  the  moral  universe 
reposes  ;  we  may  be  quite  sure  that  no  weaker  or 
poorer  motives  than  those  in  this  way  presented  to 
man  would  have  ever  succeeiled  in  making  him 
holy,  and  thus  capable  of  blessedness. 

—  Trench. 

2.  His  deatb  was  a  voluntary  sacrifice  for  us. 

(913.)  It  was  the  time  of  a  plague.  There  was 
no  remedy  except  what  might  be  found  by  examin- 
ing the  body  of  one  who  had  died  of  the  disease. 
It  was  death  to  do  it.  Dr.  Guyon  said,  "I  will 
attempt  it.     In  the  name  of  humanity  and  religion, 


CHRIST. 


(    T58    ) 


CHRIST. 


I  will  examine  this  body."  He  did  so,  took  the 
plague,  and  died.  He  put  on  paper  his  ol:)serva- 
tions,  put  them  in  a  vase  of  vinegar  to  prevent  con- 
tagion, and  in  twelve  hours  he  was  gone.  A  grand 
sacrifice  !  Yet  the  Lord  Jesus  looked  on  a  plague- 
smitten  world,  made  a  will  giving  all  to  His  people, 
came  to  this  plague  hospital,  the  pure  for  the  im- 
pure— behold  love,  sacrifice,  rescue  I 

—  Talmage. 

S.  Tbe  benefits  of  His  deatli  are  Inexhaustible. 

(914.)  The  passion  of  our  Lord  is  like  a  great 
river  flowing  down  from  a  mountain,  which  is  never 
exhausted.  —  Vianney, 

4.  Tlie  Intensity  of  His  sufferlnga. 

(915.)  His  suffering  fell  not  on  Him  like  a  dew 
or  mist,  which  only  wets  the  surface  of  the  ground, 
but  like  a  pouring,  soaking  rain,  which  descends 
into  the  very  bowels  of  it.  There  wa-i  pain  enough 
in  every  single  part  to  have  been  spread  in  lesser 
proportions  over  the  whole  man.  Chiist  suffered 
only  the  exquisiteness  and  heights  of  pain,  without 
any  of  those  mitigations  which  God  is  pleased  to 
temper  and  allay  it  with  as  it  befalls  other  men  ; 
like  a  man  who  drinks  only  the  spirits  of  a  liquor 
separated  and  extracted  from  the  dull  inactive  body 
of  the  liquor  itself.  All  the  force  and  activity,  the 
stings  and  fierceness  of  that  troublesome  thing  were, 
as  it  were,  drained  and  distilled  and  abridged  into 
that  cup  which  Christ  drank  of.  There  was  some- 
thing sharper  than  vinegar,  and  bitterer  than  gall, 
which  that  drauglit  was  prepared  and  made  up  with. 
We  cannot  imieed  say,  that  the  sufferings  of  Christ 
were  long  in  duration  ;  for  to  be  violent  and  lasting 
too  is  above  the  methods  or  measures  of  nature. 
But  He  who  lived  at  that  rate,  that  He  might  be 
said  to  live  an  age  every  hour,  wa^  able  to  suffer  so 
too  ;  and  to  compiise  the  greatest  torments  in  the 
shortest  space,  which  yet,  by  their  shortness,  lost 
nothing  01  their  force  and  keenness  ;  as  a  penknife 
Us  as  sharp  as  a  spear,  though  not  so  long.  That 
which  promotes  and  adds  to  the  tmpre>sionb  of  pain, 
is  the  delicate  constitution  of  the  faculty  aggrieved. 
And  there  is  no  doubt  but  the  veiy  fabric  of  our 
Saviour's  boiiy  was  a  masterpiece  of  nature,  a  thing 
absolutely  and  exactly  framed,  and  of  that  fineness 
as  to  have  the  quickest  and  most  sensible  touches 
of  every  object ;  and  withal,  to  have  these  advanced 
by  the  communion  of  His  admirably  made  body, 
with  His  high  and  vigorous  intellectuals.  All  which 
made  Him  drink  in  pain  more  deeply,  feel  every 
lash,  eveiy  ^^  ound,  \\  ith  so  much  a  closer  and  a  more 
affecting  sense.  For  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  but  a 
dull  fellow  can  endure  the  paroxysms  of  a  fever,  or 
the  torments  of  the  gout  or  stone,  much  better  tlian 
a  man  of  a  quick  mind  ami  an  exalted  fancy;  be- 
cause in  one  pa  n  beats  upon  a  rock  or  an  anvil,  in 
the  other,  it  prints  itseli  upon  wax.  One  is  e\en 
born  with  a  kind  of  lethargy  and  stupefaction  into 
the  world,  armed  with  an  iron  body  and  a  leaden 
soul  ag'»inst  all  the  apprehensions  of  ordinary  sorrow, 
so  that  there  is  need  of  some  pain  to  awaken  such 
an  one,  and  to  convince  him  that  he  is  alive  ;  but 
our  Saviour,  who  had  an  understanding  too  quick 
to  let  anything  that  was  inteiligible  escape  it,  took 
in  the  dolorous  atiiicting  objects  in  its  full  dimension. 
He  saw  the  utmost  evil  of  every  one  of  those  s'rukes, 
which  the  guilt  of  our  sins  inflicted  on  Hiii;  and 
vvhat  His  eyo  saw.  His  heart  proportionab^y  feit  : 
for  surely  they  must  needs  have  been  inconceivably 


afflicting,  in  the  actual  endurance,  which  were  so 
dreadful  in  their  very  approach,  that  the  horror  of 
them  made  the  man  of  God's  right  hand,  the  man 
made  strong  for  that  very  purpose,  to  start  back, 
and  decline  the  blow,  could  the  avoidance  of  it  have 
stood  with  the  decrees  of  Heaven.  "  Father,  if  it 
be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  Me  ;  "  which  yet 
was  not  the  voice  of  cowardice,  but  of  human  nature 
— nature  which,  by  its  first  and  most  essential 
principle,  would  have  saved  itself,  might  it  have 
consisted  with  the  saving  of  the  world. 

— South,  1 633- 1 7 16. 

B.  His  sufferings  were  foreseen  by  Him. 

(916.)  As  astronomers  know  when  none  others 
think  of  it,  that  travelling  through  the  heavens  the 
vast  shadow  is  progressing  towards  the  sun  which 
ere  long  shall  clothe  it  and  hide  it,  so  Christ  knew 
that  the  great  darkness  which  was  to  overwhelm 
Him  was  approaching.  — Biecher, 

6.  How  tiiey  were  endured. 

(917.)  Observe  how  imperturbable  He  is  during 
His  crucifixion,  talking  to  the  disciple  of  His  mother, 
fulfilling  prophecies,  giving  good  hope  to  the  thief; 
whereas  before  His  crucifixion  He  seemed  in  fear: 
the  weakness  of  His  nature  was  shown  then,  and  the 
exceeding  greatness  of  His  power  here.  He  teaches 
us,  too,  herein,  not  to  turn  back  because  we  may 
feel' disturbed  at  the  difficulties  before  us  ;  for  when 
we  are  once  actually  under  the  trial,  all  will  be  light 
and  easy.  — Ckrysostoin,  347-407. 

7.  In  what  seme  tbe  Father  willed  the  death  of 
the  Son. 

(918.)  Again,  where  He  says,  "  Father,  if  it  be 
possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  Me  ;  nevertheless, 
not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt  ;  "  and  "  if  this  cup 
may  not  pass  away  from  Me  except  I  drink  it.  Thy 
will  be  done;"  He  signifies  by  His  own  will  the 
natural  desire  for  safety,  by  which  His  human  fiesh 
shrank  from  the  pain  of  death.  But  again  He  speaks 
of  His  Father's  will,  not  that  the  Father  willed  the 
death  of  the  Son  rather  than  His  life;  but  that  the 
Father  willed  that  the  human  race  should  not  be 
restored,  unless  man  should  do  some  act  as  great 
as  was  that  death.  And  because  reason  did  not  re- 
quire that  of  Him  which  no  one  else  could  do, 
therefore  the  Son  says  that  He  willed  His  own 
death,  since  He  chose  rather  to  suffer  it,  than  that 
the  human  race  should  not  be  saved  ;  as  though  he 
were  to  say,  "  Since  Thou  wiliest  not  that  the  re- 
conciliation of  the  world  should  be  accomplished 
in  any  other  way,  I  say  that  Thou  in  this  way 
wiliest  My  Death  :  let  Thy  will  then  be  done,  »'/., 
let  My  death  take  place,  that  so  the  world  may 
be  reconciled  to  Thee." 

For  we  often  say  that  a  man  wills  a  thing,  because 
he  does  not  will  another  thing,  which  if  he  did, 
what  he  is  said  to  will  woulil  not  take  place  :  as 
when  we  say  that  a  man  is  willing  to  put  out  the 
candle,  when  he  will  not  shut  the  window,  through 
which  the  wind  comes  in  which  puts  out  the  candle. 
Thus,  then,  the  Father  willed  the  death  of  the  Son, 
because  He  willed  that  the  world  should  only  be 
saved  by  man  doing  some  act  as  great  as  1  have 
just  mentioned.  And  this  was  to  the  Son  who 
willed  the  salvation  of  men,  since  no  other  man  was 
able  to  do  it,  the  same  as  if  the  Father  had  com- 
manded Him  to  die;  and  hence,  "as  the  Father 
gave  Him  commandment,  even  so  He  did  ; "  and 


CHRTST. 


<     159     ) 


CHRIST. 


**the  cup  which  the  Father  gave  Him  He  dninlc," 
being  "  obedient  even  unto  death." 

— Anselm,  1093. 

8.  In  what  sense  He  Is  said  to  have  been  exalted 
on  account  of  having  undergone  death. 

(919.)  When  the  apostle  had  said,  "  He  humbled 
Himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  ev»>n  the 
death  of  the  cross,"  he  added  this:  "wherefore 
God  also  hath  highly  exalted  Him,  and  given  Him 
a  name  which  is  above  every  name."  Similar  to 
which  is  what  David  said  :  "  He  shall  drink  of  the 
brook  in  the  way,  therefore  shall  He  lift  up  His 
head."  This,  then,  is  not  so  spoken  as  though  He 
could  in  no  way  have  attained  that  exaltation,  ex- 
cept by  this  obedience  unto  death  ;  and  that  exalta- 
tion was  conferred  on  Him  solely  as  a  reward  for 
His  obedience.  For  before  He  had  suffered,  He 
said  that,  "all  things  had  been  delivered  to  Him 
of  the  Father,"  and  "  all  that  the  Father  had 
were  His."  Hut  since  He  Himself,  with  the  Father 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  had  ordained  that  He  would 
not  but  by  His  death  display  to  the  world  the  great- 
ness of  His  power  :  when,  therefore,  what  had  been 
ordained  to  be  done  no  otherwise  than  by  that 
death,  is  done  by  it,  it  is  not  improperly  said  to  be 
done  on  account  of  it. 

For  if  we  intend  to  do  a  thing,  but  purpose  to  do 
•omething  else  first,  by  which  the  other  may  come 
to  pass  ;  when  now  that  which  we  wished  to  pre- 
cede it  has  been  done,  if  what  we  intended  takes 
place,  it  is  rightly  said  to  be  doneo«  account  of  (his, 
since  that  which  delayed  its  accomplishment  has 
been  done  ;  because  it  had  purposed  not  to  be 
accomplished,  except  through  the  means  of  the 
latter.  For  instance,  a  river,  which  I  may  cross 
either  on  horseback,  or  by  boat,  I  resolve  that  I 
will  not  cross  except  by  boat  ;  and  on  this  account 
delay  crossing,  because  the  boat  is  not  there  :  when 
now  the  boat  comes,  if  I  cross,  it  is  rightly  said  of 
me,  The  boat  was  ready  antl  therefore  he  crossed 
over.  And  we  speak  thus  not  only  when  it  is  by 
means  of  that  which  we  resolved  should  precede  it, 
but  even  when  it  is  not  by  nieans  of,  but  only  after 
that,  that  we  resolve  to  do  anything  else.  For 
instance,  if  a  man  puts  off  taking  food,  because  he 
has  not  yet  that  day  been  to  the  celebration  of  the 
Holy  Euciiarist  ;  when  he  has  accomplished  what 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do  first,  it  is  not  im- 
properly said  to  him,  take  your  food  now,  because 
you  have  now  done  that  for  which  you  put  off  taking 
it.  Far  less  strange  a  mo<le  of  expression  is  it,  when 
Christ  is  said  to  be  exalted  on  aicount  of  His  having 
undergone  death,  t)y  means  of  which,  and  after 
which.  He  had  deteruiincd  to  bring  about  that 
exaltation.  — Amelm,  1093. 

9.  Why  He  died  for  xa. 

(920  )   "  Why  was  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs.   N of  her 

own  heart  as  she  was  walking  homeward  from  the 
communion  table.  "  Why  was  it  ?  '  she  almost  un- 
consciously exclaimed  aloud  ;  "  oh,  I  wish  somebody 
could  tell  me."  "Could  tell  you  what?"  said  a 
pleasant  voice  behind  her,  and  looking  around,  she 
saw  her  pastor  and  his  vvife  approaching.  "Could 
tell  me,"  saitl  she,  "  IVhy  the  Saviour  died  for  us. 
I  have  never  heard  it  answered  to  my  satisfaction. 
You  will  say  it  was  because  He  loved  us;  but  why 
was  that  love?  He  certainly  did  not  need  us,  and 
iQ  our  sinful  state  there  was  nothing  in  us  to  attract 


His  love."  "I  may  suppose,  Mrs.  N ,"said  her 

pastor,  "that  it  would  be  no  loss  for  you  to  lose 
your  deformed  little  babe.  You  do  not  need  the 
deformed  child,  and  what  use  is  it?"    "Oh  sir," 

said  Mrs.   N ,  "I  could  not  part  with  my  poor 

child.  I  do  need  him,  I  need  his  love.  I  would, 
rather  die  than  fail  of  receiving  it."  "Well,"  said 
her  pastor,  "does  God  love  His  children  less  than 
eartlily  sinful  parents  do  ?  "     "I  never  looked  upon 

it  in  that  way  before,"  said  Mrs.  N .     The  pastor 

added,  "  My  own  little  boy  once  wandered  away, 
and  was  lost  for  one  day.  He  suffereii  during  the 
day  but  I  do  not  think  lie  suffered  as  I  did.  He  had 
disobeyed,  and  thus  was  lost  ;  but  I  did  not  feel, 
while  looking  for  him,  that  if  I  failed  to  find  him  it 
would  be  sad  for  him,  but  would  make  no  particular 
difference  to  me.  I  felt  that  I  must  find  him,  or  I 
could  not  live.  God  loves  His  children  as  no  earthly 
parent  can.  I  adore  Him  for  that  love  for  us,  but 
I  do  not  wonder  at  it,  and  I  have  taken  more  interest 
in  labouring  for  the  conversion  of  sinners  than,  I 
did,  now  that  I  feel  that  God  does  need  His  children, 
and  that  if  their  souls  are  lost,  not  they  alone  will 
be  losers." 

9.  With  what  feelings  they  should  Inspire  us. 

(921.)  I  was  reading,  a  day  or  two  ago,  about  a 
farmer  who  was  found  kneeling  at  a  soldier's  grave 
near  Nashville.  Some  one  came  to  him  and  said  : 
"  Why  do  you  pay  so  much  attention  to  this  grave? 
Was  your  son  buried  here?"  "No,"  he  said. 
"  During  the  war,  my  family  were  all  sick.  I  knew 
not  how  to  leave  them.  I  was  drafted.  One  of 
my  neighbours  came  over  and  said  :  '  1  will  go  foi 
you,  I  have  no  family.'  He  went  oft.  He  was 
wounded  at  ClVickamauga.  He  was  carried  to  the 
hospital  and  died.  And,  sir,  I  have  come  a  great  '■ 
many  miles  that  I  might  write  over  his  grave  these 
words  :  '  lie  died  for  iiie.''  "  Christ  was  our  Substi- 
tute. He  went  forth  to  fight  our  battles.  He  died. 
Oh  !  that  we  might  write  over  His  grave  to-night, 
each  one  of  us  :  "  //e  died  for  me  !  " 

—  Talmage. 

XIX.    HIS  RESURRECTION. 

(922.)  His  resurrection  was  necessary  to  His  being 
believed  in  as  a  Saviour.  As  Christ  by  His  death 
paid  down  a  satisfaction  for  sin,  so  it  was  necessary 
that  it  should  be  declared  to  the  world  by  such 
arguments  as  might  found  a  rational  belief  of  it,  so 
that  men's  unbelief  should  be  renilered  inexcusable, 
but  how  could  the  world  believe  that  lie  fully  had 
satisfied  for  sin,  so  long  as  they  saw  death,  the 
known  wages  of  sin  maintain  its  full  force  and 
power  over  Ilim,  holding  llim  like  an  obnoxious 
person  in  durance  and  captivity  ?  When  a  man  is 
once  imprisoned  for  debt,  none  can  conclude  the 
debt  either  paid  by  him  or  forgiven  to  him,  but  by 
the  release  of  his  person.  Who  could  believe  Christ 
to  have  been  a  God  and  a  Saviour  while  He  was 
hanging  upon  the  tree?  A  dying,  crucified  God, 
a  Saviour  of  the  world  who  could  not  save  Himself^ 
would  have  been  exploded  by  the  universal  consent 
of  reason  as  a  horrible  paradox  and  absurdity.  1  lad 
not  the  resurrection  followeil  the  crucifixion,  thai 
scoff  of  the  Jews  had  stood  as  an  unanswerable 
argument  against  Him.  "  Himself  He  cannot  save  ; 
let  Him  come  down  from  the  cross,  and  we  will  be- 
lieve in  llim."  Otherwise,  surely,  that  which  was 
the  lowest  instance  of  human  weakness  and  mortality 
could  be  no  competent  demonstration  of  a  Teity. 


CHRIST. 


(    160    ) 


CHRIST. 


To  save  is  the  effect  of  power,  and  of  such  a  power 
as  prevails  to  a  complete  victory.  But  it  is  expressly 
affirmed,  "that  Christ  was  crucified  through  weak- 
ness." Death  was  too  hard  for  His  humanity,  and 
bore  away  the  spoils  of  it  for  a  time.  So  that, 
while  Christ  was  in  the  grave,  men  might  as  well 
have  expected  that  a  person  hung  in  chains  should 
come  down  and  head  an  army,  as  imagine  that  a 
dead  body,  continuing  such,  should  be  able  to 
triumph  over  sin  and  death,  which  so  potently 
triumphs  over  the  living.  The  discourse  of  the  two 
disciples  going  to  Emmaus,  and  expecting  no  such 
thing  as  a  resurrection,  was,  upon  that  supposition, 
hugely  rational  and  significant.  "  We  trusted," 
said  they,  '*  that  this  had  been  Me  who  should 
have  redeemed  Israel ; "  thereby  clearly  implying, 
that  upon  His  death  they  had  let  that  confidence 
fall  to  the  ground  together  with  Him.  For  they 
could  not  imagine  that  a  breathless  carcass  could 
chase  away  the  Roman  eagles,  and  so  recover  the 
Jews  from  under  their  subjection  ;  which  was  the 
redemption  that  even  the  disciples  (till  they  were 
further  enlightened)  promised  themselves  from  their 
Messiah.  Rut  the  argument  would  equally,  nay, 
more  strongly,  hold  against  a  spiritual  redemption, 
supposing  His  continuance  under  a  state  of  death, 
as  being  a  thing  in  itself  much  more  difficult.  For 
how  could  such  an  one  break  the  kingdom  of  dark- 
ness, and  set  His  foot  upon  "  principalities  and 
powers,  and  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places," 
who  Himself  fell  a  sacrifice  to  the  wickedness  of 
moital  men,  and  remained  a  captive  in  the  lower 
parts  of  the  earth,  reduced  to  a  condition,  not  only 
below  men's  envy,  but  below  their  very  feet  ? 

— South,  1633-17 16. 

(923.)  The  death  of  Christ  must  have  been  the 
most  overwhelming  disaster  to  His  disciples  of 
which  we  can  form  any  conception. 

What  if  men  were  to  be  told  that  to-night  the  sun 
would  be  extinguished,  by  a  decree  of  God  that  had 
gone  forth,  afrd  that  was  ireversible ?  Who  can 
conceive  the  consternation  that  would  prevail  ? 
How  men  would  gather !  And  as  the  sun  began 
to  reel  towards  the  west,  and  show  signs  of  irregu- 
larity, what  terror  would  begin  to  come  upon  the 
boldest  faces !  And  if,  flaming  with  ominous 
flashes,  the  sun  should  go  down  at  last,  and  seem 
to  have  fallen  into  a  gulf  of  annihilation,  what  out- 
cry would  fill  the  now  unilluminated  night  !  And 
when  men,  having  watched  the  east  till  the  morn- 
ing hour,  saw  that  with  it  came  no  morning  light, 
and  that  the  day  was  undistinguishable  from  the 
night,  they  would  begin  with  universal  wail  to 
proclaim  their  sorrow.  The  fields  would  droop  ; 
houses  would  be  as  sepulchres ;  business  would 
hush  in  the  street ;  the  banker  would  forget  his 
bank,  the  miser  his  money,  the  mechanic  his  tools, 
and  seekers  of  pleasure  their  places  of  resort ;  the 
sail  would  hang  at  rest  in  tlie  hai  hour  ;  there  would 
be  no  light  ;  all  business  must  perish  ;  nothing  could 
grow  ;  nothing  could  blossom  ;  there  could  be  no 
colour  in  the  flower,  none  in  the  sky,  none  in 
pictures,  ahd  none  in  the  living  human  face  ;  life 
itself  would  be  dead  while  yet  alive  ;  and  the  world 
would  be  buried.  Men  would  begin  to  see  that 
that  subtle  fluid  which  they  had  scarcely  thought 
of  in  its  regular  abundance,  in  fact,  carried  in  it 
all  the  conditions  of  human  life,  and  mastered  all 
things. 

Just  so  wa'5  it  with  the  disciples.     Not  a  whit  less 


amazing  and  overwhelming  to  them  was  the  depar- 
ture of  the  Light  of  the  world,  in  which  they  had 
put  their  whole  life,  and  after  whose  departure  they 
felt  that  though  they  had  life,  they  had  nothing  for 
it  to  do. 

15ut  what  if  after  three  hopeless,  helpless  day% 
when  men  had  become  almost  rigid  with  despair, 
some  watcher  should  cry  out  in  the  street,  "  I  see 
light  dawning  in  the  east  ! "  and  the  gray  twilight 
should  begin  to  creep  toward  light  ?  What  wild 
tidings  would  spread  !  How  the  sleepers  would 
spring  up  out  of  horrid  dreams  !  What  shouts  of 
joy  would  rend  the  air  from  throngs  of  men,  as  the 
light  flamed  forth  and  stretched  up  !  What  tears 
of  gratitude  would  fill  every  eye  !  And  as  th»  sun 
rose  gloriously  above  the  horizon,  parents  and  chil- 
dren would  lock  themselves  in  embrace  ;  fi  lends 
would  greet  friends;  and  the  whole  city  would  be 
intoxicated  with  gladness,  and  would  burst  into 
every  extravagant  gratulation  :  And  would  not  a 
new  epoch  begin?  In  the  calendar  would  be 
placed  the  glorious  Resurrection  of  the  Sun. 

— Beecker, 

(924.)  I  do  not  know  where  T  get  that  feoling ; 
but  as  I  read  this  connected  history,  it  seems  to  me 
as  though  the  crucifixion  was  like  one  of  those 
summer  thunder-storms  that  we  have,  in  which  all 
the  heavens  appear  to  be  full  of  darkness,  and  con- 
flict, and  turmoil.  The  terrible  thunder-cracks  that 
roll  through  the  darkness  ;  the  great  striving  windi 
that  now  tug  at  the  trees  which  groan  under  their 
hands,  and  that  now  beat  on  the  house  ;  the  hissing 
rain  ;  all  the  wild  commotion  of  the  elements  — these 
fill  the  soul  full  of  imaginations  and  strange  terrors. 
And  yet  we  sleep  (I  used  to,  as  a  child),  and  wake, 
and  sleep ;  and  when  the  morning  comes,  there  is 
not  a  cloud  in  the  air.  It  is  as  if  the  heavens  were 
one  vast  bowl,  or  goblet,  filled  with  the  wine  of 
life;  and  the  sun  seem%' steeping  the  very  heavens. 
Not  a  leaf  moves  except  when  a  drop  of  water  falls 
from  it  and  changes  its  equipoise.  And  all  the 
birds  sing,  and  all  voices  seem  jubilant,  and  all  the 
earth  seems  refreshed  and  more  beautiful.  And  so 
it  afliiects  me  when  I  read  of  the  tumult  of  the  cruci- 
fixion on  Calvary,  and  the  after  quiet. 

For  then,  there  are  the  scenes  of  the  garden — the 
ministration  of  angels ;  the  sweet  surprise  of  the 
different  groups  that  came  to  the  sepulchre.  It  is  ^ 
all  tranquil.  It  is  all  joyful.  Previous  to  that 
event  there  had  been  tumult,  from  the  time  of 
Christ's  appearance  on  the  earth  ;  but  when  once 
He  has  passed  the  portals  of  the  tomb  ;  when  once 
He  has  come  forth  from  the  sepulchre,  it  is  all 
serene  ;  it  is  all  sweet.  It  is  as  it  should  be.  Now 
we  can  see  it.  The  Saviour  has  risen  ;  and  all  the 
signs  and  tokens  of  His  presence  are  gladness  and 
radiance  and  peace.  — Beecker. 

(925.)  His  resurrection  is  a  pledge,  not  mere'y 
an  illustration,  of  the  resurrection  of  mankind.  He 
is  the  first  fruits,  as  represented  in  Scripture  ;  they 
are  the  harvest.  He  is  the  forerunner  :  they  are 
the  company  for  which  He  goes  forth  to  make  pre- 
paration. A  forerunner  is  an  absurdity  if  no  one  is 
to  come  after.  If  a  man  should  go  into  a  city,  as  it 
was  customaiy  to  do  in  ancient  times,  crying,  "  Make 
ready!  prepare!"  if  he  should  rush  up  to  the 
hostelry  and  call  out  for  every  provision  of  chamber, 
and  fuel,  and  raiment,  and  food,  and  he  should  be 
the  only  one  that  was  to  come,  how  preposterous 


CHRI'JT. 


(    t6i    ) 


CHRIS  T, 


it  would  be !  There  can  be  no  forerunner  except 
where  there  is  a  company  to  follow  him,  for  whom 
he  goes  forward  to  prejiare.  Now  Christ  is  the 
forerunner,  and  the  race  is  following  after  Him. 

— Beec/ur. 

XX.  HIS  ASCENSIOy. 

(926.)  "  Wherefore  He  saith,  when  He  ascended 
up  on  high,  He  led  captivity  captive,  and  gave  gifts 
unto  men.  And  He  gave  some,  apostles  ;  and  some, 
prophets  ;  and  some,  evangelists  ;  and  some,  pastors 
and  teachers ;  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints,  for 
the  work  of  the  ministry,  for  the  edifying  of  the 
body  of  Christ."  As  when  Roman  heroes  returned 
from  blood-red  fields,  and  the  senate  awarded  thetn 
a  triumph,  they  rode  in  their  chariot  drawn  by  milk- 
white  steeds  through  the  thronging  streets  of  the 
Capitol,  so  did  Jesus  Christ  when  He  led  captivity 
captive  receive  a  triumph  at  His  Feather's  hands. 
The  triumphal  chariot  bore  Him  through  the  streets 
of  glory,  while  all  the  inhabitants  thereof  with  loud 
acclaim  saluted  Him  as  Conqueror. 

"Crown  Him  !  crown  Him  I 
Crowns  become  the  victor's  brow  I* 

II  was  the  wont  of  the  Roman  conqueror  as  he  rode 
•long  to  distribute  large  quantities  of  money  which 
wrie  scattered  among  the  admiring  crowd.  So  our 
glorified  Lord  scattered  gifts  among  men,  yea  to  the 
rebellious  also  He  gave  those  gifts  that  the  Lord 
God  might  dwell  anu.ng  them  ;  in  this  manner, 
then,  to  grace  the  triumph  of  Jesus,  the  Spirit  of 
Cod  was  liberally  poured  out  upon  the  Church  below. 

— Spurgeon. 

XXI.  THE  SAVIOUR  OF  ALL  MEN. 

(927,)  Our  Lord  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men,  for 
that  He  hath  rendered  all  men  salvubihs,  capable  of 
salvation  ;  and  salvandos,  designed  to  salvation,  for 
t.tat  He  hath  removed  all  obstacles  peremptorily 
debarring  men  from  access  to  salvation,  and  hath 
procured  competent  furtherances  to  their  attainment 
of  it.  He  hath  performed  whatever  on  His  part  is 
necessary  or  tit  in  order  to  salvation,  antecedently 
to  the  acceptance  and  compliance  with  those  reason- 
able conditions,  which  by  God's  wisdom  are  required 
toward  the  instating  men  into  a  full  and  immediate 
right  to  salvation,  or  to  a  complete  and  actual 
fruition  thereof.  He  made  the  way  to  happiness 
plain  and  passable  ;  levelling  the  insuperable  cliffs, 
and  filling  up  the  chasms,  and  rectifying  the  obli- 
quities, and  smoothing  the  asperities  thereof,  as  the 
prophet  foretold  ;  so  that  all  men,  who  would, 
might  conveniently  walk  therein.  He  set  the  doors 
of  paradise  wide  open,  so  that  who  pleased  might 
enter  in  ;  all  the  bonds  and  restraints  under  which 
men  lay.  He  so  far  loosed,  that  any  man  might  be  free, 
who  would  concur  to  his  own  liberty  and  enlarge- 
ment. All  the  protection  and  encouragement  which 
were  needful  toward  obtaining  salvation.  He  afibrded 
and  exhibited  to  every  one  that  would  embrace  and 
make  use  of  them.  In  respect  to  which  perfor- 
mances He  might  be  truly  called  a  Saviour,  although 
all  men  do  not  in  eflect  become  saved.  For  the 
estimation  and  denomination  of  performances  are 
to  be  grounded  upon  their  own  nature  and  design, 
not  upon  events  depending  upon  the  contingent  and 
arbitrary  behaviour  of  men.  As  he  that  freely  offers 
a  rich  boon  is  no  less  to  be  accounted  a  benefactor, 
and  liberal,  although  his  gift  be  refuiied,  than  if  it 


were  accepted  ;  as  he  that  opens  the  prison  is  to  be 
styled  a  deliverer,  although  the  captive  will  not  go 
forth  ;  as  he  that  ministers  an  effectual  remedy, 
although  the  patient  will  not  use  it,  deserves  the 
honour  and  thanks  due  to  a  physician  ;  so  is  our 
Lord  in  regard  to  what  He  hath  performed  for  men, 
and  offered  to  them  (being  sufficient  to  prevent 
their  misery,  and  promote  their  happiness),  to  be 
thankfully  acknowledged  their  Saviour,  although  not 
all  men,  yea  although  not  one  man,  should  receive 
the  designed  benefit.  — Barrow,  1630-1677. 

XXII.  HIS  READINESS  TO  RECEIVE  SIN- 
NERS. 

(928.)  He  does  not  exclude  the  greatest  sinners 
when  they  come  to  Him,  but  on  the  contrary  He 
gives  them  His  first  attention  ;  as  a  surgeon  who 
has  been  called  to  a  field  of  battle  to  dress  the 
wounded  always  first  goes  to  the  most  desperate 
cases.  — Naudin. 

(929.)  I  find  a  great  many  persons  who  attempt 
to  come  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  a  person  woaiii 
go  to  a  king  that  had  given  out  invitations  for  a 
grand  levee,  and  expected  every  one  who  came  'o 
wear  a  court  dress.  While  all  the  rich  that  hal 
silks,  and  satins,  and  money  in  profusion,  v/erc  get- 
ting ready  and  going,  others  would  be  staying  at 
home  because  they  had  only  homespun  garments, 
or  were  in  tatters,  and  had  no  means  of  betlci 
clothing  themselves. 

Suppose  you  should  desire  to  go  to  the  levee  >f 
the  king— or  the  presidefit,  if  you  like  that  wori 
better — but  should  hesitate  because  you  had  oot 
better  clothing:  and  suppose  he  should  send  eut 
word,  "  Come  without  stopping  for  better  clothing  ;  " 
and  suppose  you  sheuld  still  hesitate,  feeling  that 
there  must  be  some  preparation  necessary  ;  and 
suppose  he  should  s^nd  out  again,  saying  to  every 
one  :  "  Make  known  your  want,  and  I  will  supply 
it  ;  I  will  send  you  the  very  garments  you  need  ;  I 
will  send  you  money  with  which  to  pay  your  ex- 
penses :  only  let  me  know  what  you  want,  and  you 
shall  have  it — provision  for  your  journey  ;  the 
necessary  funds  for  travelling  ;  a  convoy  to  guiile 
and  protect  you  ;  and  a  ticket  of  entrance  ;  and 
finally  you  shall  receive  a  hearty  welcome.  Only 
come,  and  all  these  incidental  matters  shall  be  pro- 
vided for."  If  such  a  thing  should  take  place  in 
secular  affairs,  you  would  be  in  no  doubt  as  to  what 
course  to  pursue.  And  it  ought  to  be  more  easy 
and  more  glorious  in  a  spiritual  than  in  a  worldly 
sense. 

Here  is  one  who  says  :  "  I  had  no  advantages  in 
my  early  life.  I  was  brought  up  among  people  that 
swore,  and  stole,  and  drank,  and  did  everything  that 
was  wicked  j  and  I  but  just  escaped  the  clutches  of 
destruction.  1  formed  many  bad  habits  which  cling 
to  me  now.  And  yet,  when  1  look  upon  the  life  of 
Christians,  I  say,  '  It  is  good.'  1  would  give  all  the 
world  to  be  as  they  are,  and  I  strive  to  become 
like  them  ;  but  I  do  not  seem  to  make  any  progress. 
If  I  only  had  God  to  help  me,  I  think  I  could  make 
some  headway." 

The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  just  exactly  what  such  a 
person  needs — a  Friend ;  and  not  one  who  will  forgive 
him  when  he  has  repented,  but  one  who  will  help 
him  to  repent.  He  is  not  one  who  will  reward  him 
only  when  he  has  perfected  his  righteousness.  He 
is  a  schoolmaster  who  says  :  "  You  cannot  be  what 


CHRIST. 


(    i6»    ) 


CHRIST. 


you  desire  to  be  till  you  go  to  school  ;  and  I  have 
opened  a  school  for  just  such  as  you  ;  and  if  you 
will  come  to  this  school  I  will  teach  you  that  which 
you  need  to  know."  He  is  not  like  a  physician  who 
should  stand  saying  to  the  man  that  is  sick,  "Come 
to  my  office  when  you  get  well."  He  is  one  who, 
when  you  say  to  Ilim,  "  Come  and  see  my  case — I 
am  sick,"  says,  "  It  is  my  nature  and  my  mission  to 
do  that."  He  declared  that  He  came  to  heal  the 
sick  and  not  the  whole.  — Beecker. 

XXIII.  A  WAY  OF  ACCESS  TO  HIM  THAT 
IS  ALWAYS  OPEN. 

(930.)  In  one  of  the  coal-pits  of  the  north,  while 
a  consideralile  number  of  the  miners  were  down 
below,  the  top  of  the  pit  fell  in,  and  tlie  sliaft  was 
completely  blocked  up.  Those  who  were  in  the  mine 
gathered  to  a  spot  where  the  last  remains  of  air 
could  be  breathed.  There  they  sat  and  sang  and 
prayed  after  the  lights  had  gone  out  because  the  air 
was  unable  to  support  the  flame.  They  were  in 
total  darkness,  but  a  gleam  of  hope  cheered  them 
when  one  of  them  said  he  had  heard  that  there  was 
a  connection  between  that  pit  and  an  old  pit  which 
had  been  worked  years  ago.  He  said  it  was  a  long 
passage  through  which  a  man  might  get  by  crawling 
all  the  way,  lying  Hat  upon  the  ground  ;  he  would 
go  and  see  if  it  were  passable.  Tiie  passage  was  very 
long,  but  they  crept  through  it,  and  at  last  they  came 
out  to  light  at  the  bottom  of  the  other  shaft,  and  their 
lives  were  saved. 

If  my  present  way  of  access  to  Christ  as  a  saint 
is  blocked  up  by  doubts  and  fears,  if  I  cannot  go 
straight  up  the  shaft  and  see  the  light  of  my  F"ather's 
face,  there  is  an  old  working,  the  old-fashioned  way 
by  which  sinners  have  gone  of  old,  by  which  poor 
thieves  go,  by  which  harlots  go.  I  will  creep  along 
it,  lowly  and  humbly  ;  I  will  go  fl.1t  upon  the 
ground.  I  will  humble  myself  till  I  see  my  Lord, 
and  cry,  "  Father,  1  am  not  worthy  to  be  called  Thy 
son,  make  me  as  one  of  Thy  hired  servants,  so  long 
as  I  may  but  dwell  in  Thy  house."  In  our  very 
worst  case  of  despondency  we  may  still  come  to 
Jesus  as  sinners.  "Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners."  Call  this  to  mind  and  you 
may  have  hope.  — ^purgeon. 

XXIV.  HIS  GRACE. 

1.  Our  need  of  It. 

(931.)  The  believer  is  like  the  ship;  it  is  not 
enough  that  he  hath  the  sails  of  grace  implanted, 
but  he  must  have  the  wiml  of  the  Spirit  tilling  his 
sails,  otherwise  he  cannot  make  way  towards  the 
heavenly  port.  The  believer  is  like  a  branch,  that 
hath  nothing  of  its  own  but  what  it  receives  from 
the  root,  even  as  itself  doth  so  spring  from  the  root  : 
he  is  like  the  moon  which,  as  ajipeareth  from  the 
eclipse,  hath  no  light  of  itself,  but  increaseth,  and 
Cometh  to  full,  as  it  receiveth  from  the  sun.  ixt 
none  think  that  believers  have  no  further  use  for 
Christ  after  their  first  believing  and  receiving  of 
Him  ;  nay,  as  Christ  is  the  author,  so  He  is  the 
finisher  of  faith.  — Erskme,  1685-1752. 

(932.)  This  concurrent  testimony  of  many  witnesses 
confirms  me  in  what  1  think  the  Scriptures  plainly 
teach,  that  the  soil  of  human  nature — though  many 
spots  are  certainly  better  weeded,  planted,  and 
manured    than    others — is   everywhere   the    "ame, 


universally  bad,  and  of  itself  only  capable  of  pro- 
ducing noxious  weeds  and  nourishing  venomoui 
creatures.  We  often  see  the  effects  of  culture,  skill, 
and  expense  will  make  a  garden  where  all  was  desert 
before.  When  J^nsus,  the  good  Husbandman,  en- 
closes a  soil,  and  separates  it  from  the  waste  of  the 
world,  to  make  it  a  residence  for  Himself,  a  change 
presently  takes  place  ;  it  is  planted  and  watered 
from  above,  and  visited  with  l)eams  infinitely  more 
cheering  and  fertilising  than  those  of  the  material 
sun.  But  its  natural  propensity  to  bring  forth  weeds 
still  continues  ;  and  one  half  of  His  dispensations 
may  be  compared  to  a  company  of  weeders,  whom 
He  sends  forth  into  His  garden  to  pluck  up  all 
which  He  has  not  planted  with  His  own  hand,  and 
which,  if  left  to  grow,  would  quickly  overpower  and 
overtop  the  rest.  But,  alas  !  the  ground  is  so  im- 
pregnated with  evil  seeds,  and  they  shoot  in  such 
quick  succession,  that,  if  this  weeding  work  were  not 
constantly  repeated,  all  former  labour  would  be 
lost.  I/iHc  nice  lacluyma  I  hence  arises  the  necessity 
of  daily  crosses  and  disappointments,  daily  changes 
of  frame,  and  such  multiplied  convictions  that  we 
are  nothing,  and  can  do  nothing  of  ourselves  ;  all 
are  needful,  and  barely  sufficient  to  prevent  our 
hearts  from  being  overrun  with  pride,  self-depen- 
dence, and  security.  — Newton,  1 725-1807. 

(933-)  If  any  of  you  who  are  unconverted  doubt 
your  need  of  the  help  of  Christ  to  curb  your  sins, 
just  try  for  a  few  days  to  do  it  alone.  They  will 
give  you  work  of  it  !  You  will  say  you  never  were 
so  bad  before.  You  never  were  so  universally  in 
rebellion.  While  your  will  goes  with  your  selfish 
or  evil  desires  there  is  no  conflict — or  none  that 
makes  much  stir  and  dust.  I  do  not  know  that  water 
would  ever  make  any  noise  if  it  were  allowed  to 
flow  unobstructed  ;  but  put  rocks  in  its  way,  let  logs 
stick  up  in  the  current,  dam  it  up,  or  in -any  way 
obstruct  it,  and  then  see — such  a  noise,  such  a  com- 
motion, such  a  determined  overflowing  as  it  makes ; 
and  it  ivill  get  out  somewhere.  So  with  yourselves 
— as  long  as  your  heart  is  let  to  flow  undisturbedly 
hell-ward,  there  may  be  but  little  trouble  ;  you  may 
hardly  be  conscious  that  you  are  a  rebel  at  all ;  but 
lay  on  the  bands,  mark  out  the  bounds,  hold  in  the 
lines — and  what  then  ?  Why,  then  you  will  see  how 
desperate  is  your  case,  and  will  soon  discover  that 
there  is  none  but  the  Son  of  God  that  can  help  you. 

— Beeckcr, 

2.  Its  fulness  and  sufficiency. 

(934.)  Though  there  be  abundance  of  sin  and 
guiltiness  in  us,  yet  there  is  abunilance  of  grace  and 
mercy  in  Christ  to  remove  it.  Be  not  discouraged  ; 
though  thy  sins  abound.  His  grace  superabounds 
much  more.  If  a  beggar  hear  of  a  common  dole  to 
be  given  at  such  a  place,  at  such  a  time,  it  afiects 
him,  and  invites  him  to  go  ;  but  when  he  sees  many 
coming  from  it  with  arms  full,  laps  full,  baskets  full, 
this  gives  him  wings  to  make  all  haste  unto  it.  If  a 
sick  man  hear  of  a  physician  famous  for  healing  and 
curing  of  all  diseases,  it  stirs  him  up  to  go  and  try ; 
but  if  he  meet  with  hundreds  coming  from  him,  and 
telling  him,  "  I  have  been  there,  and  I  thank  God 
I  am  made  whole,"  this  puts  life  into  him,  and  causes 
him  to  hasten  to  him.  Thus  it  is  :  the  Lord  Jesus 
has  provided  a  common  dole  of  grace  and  salvation 
for  every  poor  soul  that  stands  in  need  of  it,  only 
He  will  have  men  come  and  receive  it ;  they  shaT 
have  it  for  carrying  away.     He  i>  that  soul-saving 


CHRIST. 


{    i«3    > 


CHRIST. 


Physician  ;  the  blind,  lame,  deaf,  and  dumb,  be 
the  disease  what  it  will,  it's  all  one  :  if  Christ  be  the 
Physician,  all  shall  be  made  whole. 

— Baynt,  1617. 

(935.)  God  hath  laid  up  in  Christ  a  rich  and  full 
treasure  of  grace  to  supply  thy  wants  continually, 
^^  It  pleased  tfu  Father  that  in  Him  should  all  Jul- 
ness  dwell."  Fulness,  all  fulness,  all  fulness  dwell- 
ing ;  not  the  fulness  of  a  land  flood,  up  and  down  ; 
not  the  fulness  of  a  vessel  to  serve  his  own  turn 
only,  but  of  a  fountain  that  lends  its  streams  to 
others  without  lessening  its  own  store. 

— Guntall,  1617-1679. 

(936.)  Christ  is  goodness  itself;  a  good,  suitable 
unto  all  our  wants.  If  you  be  poor.  He  is  rich  ;  if 
you  be  foolish,  He  is  wise  ;  if  you  be  out  of  the  way, 
*'  I  am  the  way,"  saith  He  :  if  you  want  a  director  in 
the  way,  "  I  am  tlie  truth  ;  *'  if  you  be  in  the  dark, 
"  I  am  the  light ;  "  a  suitable  good  and  an  universal 
good.  As  all  the  sweetnesses  that  are  in  the  flowers 
of  the  field  and  in  the  garden  are  brought  in  by  the 
bees  into  the  hive,  and  are  there  embodied  in  one 
hive  ;  so  all  the  attributes  of  God  and  the  sweetness 
of  them  all  are  hived  in  Christ,  in  whom  all  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Godhead  dwells  bodily.  And  He  is  an 
obtainable  good,  called  the  Rose  of  Sharon — the 
rose,  not  of  the  garden,  but  of  the  field,  that  every 
one  may  come  at.  — Bridge,  1600-16"] o, 

(937.)  There  is  enough  in  Jesus  Christ  for  to  serve 
us  all.  If  two,  or  six,  or  twenty  men  be  athirst, 
and  they  go  to  drink  out  of  a  bottle,  while  one  is 
drinking,  the  other  envies,  because  he  thinks  there 
will  not  be  enough  for  him  too  ;  but  if  a  hundred  be 
athirst,  and  go  to  the  river,  while  one  is  drinking, 
the  other  envies  not,  because  there  is  enough  to 
serve  them  all.  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(938.)  When  we  find  that  Christ  hath  by  His 
Spirit  begun  to  make  us  know  God,  and  love  Him, 
and  delight  in  Him,  and  praise  Him,  it  is  the  easier 
to  make  us  believe  that  lie  will  perfect  His  work 
in  us.  He  that  promises  to  convey  me  safely  to  the 
antipodes,  may  easily  be  believed  when  he  hath 
brought  me  past  the  greatest  difficulties  of  the  voy- 
age. He  that  will  teach  me  to  sing  artificially,  hath 
merited  credit  when  he  hath  taught  me  the  gradual 
tones,  the  scale  of  music,  the  sol-fa-ing,  the  clefs, 
the  quantity,  the  moods,  the  rules  of  time,  &c.  He 
that  causeth  me  to  love  God  on  earth,  may  be 
believed  if  he  promise  me  that  I  shall  love  Him 
more  in  heaven.  And  he  that  causeth  me  to  desire 
heaven  above  earth,  before  1  see  it,  may  be  believed 
when  he  promiseth,  that  it  shall  be  my  great  de- 
light when  1  am  there.  It  is  God's  work  to  love 
them  that  love  Him,  and  to  reward  the  obedient  ; 
and  I  must  needs  believe  that  God  will  do  His 
work,  and  will  never  fail  the  just  expectations  of  any 
creature.  All  my  doubt  is  whether  I  shall  do  my 
part  and  whether  1  shall  be  a  jirejiared  subject  for 
that  felicity.  And  he  that  resolveth  this,  resolveth 
ail  :  he  that  will  make  me  fit  for  heaven,  hath  over- 
come the  greatest  difficulty  of  my  belief,  and  I 
should  the  more  easily  believe  that  he  will  do  the 
rest,  and  that  1  shall  surely  come  to  heaven  when  1 
am  hi  for  it.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(939-)  Reader,  stand  awhile  at  the  well-head  with 
the  poor  woman  of  Samaria,  admiring  the  infinite 
dimensions  of  those  waters  of  life  that  are  iountained 


up  in  Jesus  Christ,  "  of  whose  fulness  we  all  receive, 
even  grace  for  grace." 

The  saints  may  be  brimful  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as 
Stephen  was,  but  it  is  according  to  measure,  a 
vessel  fulness  ;  but  Christ  above  or  without  measure, 
a  sjMing  fulness,  which  is  not  only  replelive,  but 
diffusive,  unsearchable,  unnieasurabie. 

Tile  great  ocean  is  too  little  to  shadow  out  the 
overfiowings  of  His  fulness;  for  take  away  a  drop 
or  two  from  thence,  it  presently  suffers  a  diminu- 
tion :  but  though  this  F'ountain  of  salvation  should 
shed  abroad  His  love  uj^on  all  the  world  of  the 
elect,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea,  yet  it  is  ever  full, 
running  over.  There  is  not  the  less  light  or  heat 
in  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  though  He  daily  aiiseth 
with  healing  in  His  wings  unto  them  that  fear  His 
name  from  east  to  west  :  "  I  le  is  yesterday,  to-day, 
and  for  ever  the  same."  This  is  no  hyperbole,  but 
the  language  of  Canaan.  "  Aec  Christus  tiec  caelum 
patitur  IJyperbolum. " — {Luther.) 

— Erskine,  1 685-1 752. 

(940.)  On  the  deck  of  a  foundering  vessel  stood 
a  negro  slave — the  last  man  on  board.  I  le  was  about 
to  step  into  the  life-boat  at  her  last  trip.  She  was 
already  loaded  almost  to  the  gunwale  ;  to  the  water's 
edge.  Observed  to  bear  in  his  arms  what  seemed  a 
heavy  bundle,  the  boat's  crew,  who  had  difficulty  to 
keep  her  afloat  in  such  a  roaring  sea,  refused  to  re- 
ceive him  unless  he  came  unencumbered,  anil  alone. 
He  pressed  to  his  bosom  what  he  carried  in  his  arms, 
and  seemed  loath  to  part  with  it.  They  insisted. 
He  had  his  choice — either  to  leap  in  and  leave  that 
behind  him,  or  throw  it  in  and  stay  to  perish.  He 
opened  its  folds  ;  and  there,  warmly  wrapt  round, 
lay  two  children  whom  their  father,  his  master,  had 
committed  to  his  care,  lie  kissed  them  ;  bade  the 
sailors  carry  his  affectionate  farewell  to  his  master, 
and  tell  how  he  had  faithfully  fulfilled  his  charge  ; 
and  then,  lowering  the  children  into  the  boat  which 
pushed  off,  the  dark  man  stood  alone  on  that  sink- 
ing deck — and  bravely  went  down  with  the  founder- 
ing ship.  Such  arms  slavery  binds ;  such  kind 
hearts  it  crushes  1  A  noble  and  touching  example 
that  of  the  love  that  seeketh  not  her  own  !  yet  it 
shows  how  the  means  of  salvation  may  be  inade- 
quate to  the  occasion.  So  no  poor  sinner  need 
perish,  nor  lose  eternal  life.  There  is  room  for  all 
in  Christ.  Our  cry  to  the  perishing.  Come  to  Jesus, 
Come;  "yet  there  is  room."  — Guthrie. 

(941.)  Who  can  now  despair  of  Thy  mercy,  O 
God,  that  sees  the  tears  of  a  Manasseh  accejited  ? 
I  remember  an  old  lady  who  would  not  travel  by 
railway,  because  she  thought  that  some  of  the ' 
bridges  were  in  bad  repair,  especially  the  Saltash 
bridge  near  her  own  house.  Over  that  bridge  she 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  pass,  for  fear  her  weight 
should  break  it  down,  although  hundreds  of  tons 
weight  were  carried  over  it  every  day.  At  such 
folly  everybody  can  smile.  But  when  I  hear  a  man 
say,  *'  1  have  committed  so  much  sin,  that  tiod 
cannot  pardon  it,"  1  think  his  folly  is  far  greater. 
Look  at  this  huge  train  that  went  over  that  bridge, 
behold  Manasseh  laden  with  ponderous  crimes ! 
Mark  what  a  train  of  sin  there  was  behind  him  I 
Then  look  at  the  bridge,  and  see  whether  it  starts 
by  reason  of  the  loaded  team  of  sins  which  is  rolling 
over  It.  Ah,  no,  it  bears  it  up,  and  so  \sould  it 
bear  the  weight  if  all  the  sins  that  men  have  done 
should  roll  across  its  arches.     Christ  is  "  able  to 


CHRTST. 


(    i6*    > 


CHRTST. 


ave  to  the  uttermost  them  that  come  unto  God  by 
Him."  — Sturgeon. 

3.  Its  freeness. 

(942.)  If  you  say,  "T  do  not  know  why  He 
should  save  me;  1  am  not  worthy  to  be  saved," 
thai  is  a  fact  ;  you  are  not.  If  you  say,  "  I  do  not 
think  I  have  a  right  to  look  to  Ilim  for  salvation  ; 
1  have  not  clone  anything  that  should  give  me  a 
claim  on  Ilim  for  so  great  a  blessing,"  that  is  true; 
you  have  not.  It  is  not  because  you  deserve  divine 
mercies  that  you  have  a  right  to  expect  them. 

I  take  a  dozen  beggar  boys  out  of  the  street,  and 
they  say,  "  I  do  not  know  why  you  should  like  me  ; 
I  am  unlovely,  and  there  is  nothing  attractive  about 
me."  That  is  so.  And  I  take  you  that  you  may 
become  lovely.  "  But  I  am  filthy  and  ragged." 
Yes,  you  are ;  and  I  take  you  that  you  may  be 
washed  and  clothed.  "  But  I  am  stupid  and  igno- 
rant." ijo  you  are  ;  and  I  take  you  to  educate  you. 
"But  I  am  full  of  all  manner  of  wickedness."  I 
know  that  ;  and  it  is  because  you  are  so  wicked 
that  I  am  determined,  with  God's  help,  to  rescue 
you  from  the  devil.  I  take  you  because  you  are 
such  unmitigated  urchins,  to  give  you  a  better 
chance  in  the  world. 

Now,  Christ  does  not  take  us  because  we  are  so 
pure  and  sweet,  and  virtuous  and  lovely.  He  takes 
us  because  He  cannot  bear  to  see  a  soul  that  is 
destined  to  immortality  less  than  high  and  noble ; 
and  because  He  means  to  make  us  what  He  would 
have  us  to  be.  He  sends  us  to  school.  "  They  that 
are  well,"  He  tells  us,  "need  not  a  physician  ;  but 
they  that  are  sick."  If  you  are  sick,  and  will 
•ccept  Him  for  your  physician,  He  will  cure  you. 

— Beecher. 

(943-)  "  I  come  very  often,"  said  the  Pitcher  one 
day  to  the  Spring,  which  it  again  approached  to  be 
filled  with  its  pure  water.  "  1  hope  I  do  not  come 
too  frequently  ;  but  I  soon  get  emptied,  and  as  often 
need  to  be  replenished." 

"  You  are  but  one  of  a  great  many  that  come 
with  the  same  errand,"  answered  the  flowing 
Spring. 

"It  is  very  generous  of  you  to  give  unto  all  that 
come,"  said  the  Pitcher,  "and  that,  like  myself, 
apply  so  frequently." 

"  1  never  refuse  any,  and  send  none  empty  away," 
replied  the  Spring.  "  And,  however  large  the 
number  that  I  take,  I  am  not  at  all  impoverished. 
1  flow  in  order  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  thirsting ; 
and  '  whosoever  will,  let  him  come.'" 

Believers  need  to  make  constant  application  to 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  spiritual  supplies.  The 
grace  received  yesterday  will  not  meet  the  wants 
of  the  present  day.  The  Christian  says,  like  the 
Psalmist,  "  All  my  springs  are  in  Thee."  And  the 
reply  of  the  Saviour  is,  "  Drink,  yea,  drink  abun- 
dantly, O  beloved." 

Grace  is  free  to  all  that  will  Whosoever  thirsts 
may  come  to  the  fulness  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus. 
To  this  end  the  Gospel  issues  its  invitations  unto 
poor  sinners,  "  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come 
yc  to  the  waters  "  (Isa.  Iv.  l).  — Bowden. 

4.  Is  Inexhaustible. 

(944.)  It  is  said  that  a  Spanish  ambassador, 
coming  to  see  that  so  much  cried-up  Treasury  of 
St.  Mark,  in  Venice,  fell  a-groping  at  the  bottom 
of  the  chests,  to  see  whether  they  had  any  bottom  ; 


and  being  asked  the  reason  why  he  did  so,  answered, 
"In  this,  among  other  things,  my  master's  treasure 
differs  from  yours  :  in  that  his  hath  no  bottom  as  I 
find  yours  to  have ! " — alluding  to  the  mines  in 
Mexico,  Peru,  and  other  parts  of  the  western  India. 
So  it  may  be  said,  and  Scripture,  history,  and  ex- 
perience do  abundantly  testify,  that  men's  coffers 
and  mints  may  be  exhausted,  but  the  riches  that  are 
to  b«  found  in  Christ  Jesus  have  no  bottom  :  millions 
of  thousands  feed  upon  Him,  and  He  feels  it  not ; 
He  is  ever  giving,  yet  His  purse  is  never  empty; 
always  bestowing  Himself,  yet  never  wanting  to 
any  that  faithfully  seek  Him. 

— De  Carbonensis,  1579. 

6.  Is  always  to  be  trusted  in. 

(945.)  When  once  we  trust  in  God,  He  takes 
charge  of  our  souls,  that  we  may  trust  Him  to  the 
end. 

Ah  I  if  I  were  starting  from  Europe,  and  a  friend 
should  come  to  me  and  say,  "  My  only  child,  my 
daughter,  is  going  to  America,  and  she  is  alone  on 
the  ship ;  will  you  take  charge  of  her  during  the 
voyage?"  1  should  be  sensibly  touched  by  his 
contidence.  And  aside  from  my  attachment  to  the 
child  (if  I  had  known  her  and  loved  her),  and  my 
regard  for  her  parents,  do  you  suppose  I  would 
suffer  my  oversight  of  her  to  intermit,  though  I 
might  be  in  need  of  rest  and  sleep,  and  though  I 
might  be  sick  and  require  attention  myself?  Would 
I  not,  night  and  day,  carry  that  charge  upon  my 
mind,  to  see  that  her  wants  were  all  supplied,  and 
that  no  accident  befell  her?  And  could  I  live  if, 
by  any  fault  of  mine,  she  walked  too  near  the  peril- 
ous edge  and  fell  overboard,  and  was  whelmed  in 
the  tide  and  lost?  How  could  I  ever  look  my 
friend  in  the  face  again  ? 

Now  when  God  has  put  His  children  in  the  arms 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  He  may  carry  them 
across  this  perilous  voyage  of  life,  and  land  them 
safe  in  heaven ;  and  when  Christ  has  promised  to 
present  them  pure  and  spotless  before  the  throne, 
do  you  suppose  He,  under  whose  feet  is  all  power, 
will  fail  to  fulfil  His  promise,  and  to  perform  what 
He  has  undertaken  ?  If  there  were  nothing  but 
ourselves  we  might  fear ;  but  as  long  as  we  have 
the  amplitude,  the  fidelity,  the  tenderness,  and  the 
love  of  Christ,  we  have  that  which  is  more  than  • 
match  for  our  sin.  —Beecher, 

XXV.    HIS  LOVE. 
1.  Wliy  He  loves  us. 

{946.)  It  is  necessary  for  me  to  believe  that  Jesus 
Christ  loves  me.  But  if  you  tell  me  that  He  loves 
me  because  I  am  so  good,  it  is  a  lie.  I  am  not  good. 
Yet  He  loves  me.  If  you  tell  me  it  is  because  I  am 
going  to  be  so  good,  it  is  false.  That  cannot  be  it. 
Why  does  He  love  me  ? 

Oh,  tell  me,  if  you  can,  why  it  is  that  the  mother 
loves  such  a  little  thing  as  she  does  ?  Look  at  it. 
It  does  not  know  how  to  look  at  anything.  It 
sprawls  its  little  mouth.  It  straggles  its  little 
hands  here  and  there.  It  is  a  hardly  shapen  little 
piece  of  flesh.  But  oh,  how  the  mother  loves  it  ! 
It  is  covered  with  kisses,  that  cannot  kiss  again.  It 
is  pressed  to  her  bosom,  that  does  not  know  even 
how  to  touch  her  bosom  voluntarily.  It  is  the 
mere  possibility  of  something  in  the  future  ;  but  at 
present,  what  is  it?  It  is  apparently  one  of  the 
most  insignificant  of  creatures  ;  and  yet  what  a  tid4 


CHRIST. 


(    165    > 


CHRIST, 


of  love  goes  out  toward  it  I  Oh,  what  brightness  is 
in  the  mother's  eye  I  Oh,  what  gentleness !  Is 
there  anything  in  this  world  that  brings  out  the 
beauty  of  womanhood  so  much  as  the  spectacle  of  a 
great  heart  pouring  itself  out  on  that  little  some- 
thing? It  is  the  richness  of  her  own  soul  that  is 
loving  it.  1:  is  her  nature.  Love  is  there  by  con- 
stitution. It  pours  itself  out  on  the  helpless  child. 
And  is  that  all  ?  Not  only  does  it  love  but  it  teaches 
the  child  to  be  lovely.  The  child's  nursery  is  the 
mother's  heart.  The  cradle  in  which  every  virtue 
and  grace  is  rocked  early  is  a  mother's  love.  She 
makes  the  child  lovely  by  loving,  by  waiting,  and 
by  training.  I  am  as  a  lump  of  clay.  What  can 
the  clay  do  of  itself?  Put  it  upon  the  jiotter's  wheel, 
and  set  it  in  swift  revolution,  and  lay  upon  it  a 
skilful  hand,  and  see  how  the  rude  clay  begins  to 
take  on  lorm.  See  how  it  begins  to  show  the 
most  exquisite  lines  of  the  old  vases.  See  how,  by 
the  touch  of  the  moulding  hand,  it  is  brought  to 
•omething  that  it  is  not  of  itself. 

My  God  is  a  God  who  loves  out  of  His  own 
nature,  and  not  on  conditions.  It  is  not  needful 
that  I  should  be  beautiful  in  order  that  lie  shall 
love  me.  It  is  not  needful  that  I  should  be  patient 
in  order  that  He  shall  love  me.  He  loves  me  be- 
cause of  Himself.  We  are  saved  by  grace.  We 
are  redeemed  by  goodness.  Our  salvation  does  not 
depend  upon  what  we  are,  but  upon  what  God  is. 

— Beecher. 

(947.)  He  loves  us  because  of  what  He  has  done 
for  us.  If  you  would  kindle  within  you  love  for 
any  man,  make  sacrifices  for  him.  In  the  life  of 
Captain  Marryat,  we  are  told  how  when  he  first 
went  to  sea  as  a  midshipman  he  suffered  intolerable 
persecutions  from  an  older  midshipman  named 
Cobbett.  While  their  ship  was  in  the  harbour  of 
Malta,  this  youth  fell  overboard,  and  was  rescued 
by  Marryat  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life.  The  benefit 
that  he  had  thus  conferred  upon  his  persecutor  en- 
tirely changed  his  feelings  towards  him.  Writing 
to  his  mother  an  account  of  his  exploit,  he  concluded 
it  by  saying  :  "  From  that  moment  I  have  loved  the 
fellow  as  I  never  loved  friend  before.  All  my  hate 
is  forgotten  ;  1  have  saved  his  life."  So  Christ  loves 
ns,  not  because  of  what  we  have  done,  but  in  spite 
of  what  we  have  done,  and  because  of  what  He 
suffered  on  our  behalf.  — R.  A.  Bertram. 

8.  Its  wonderful  manifestations. 

(948  )  Christ  has  obliged  us  with  two  of  the 
highest  instances  of  His  love  to  us  imaginable  : 

First,  That  He  died  for  us.  The  love  of  life  is 
naturally  the  greatest,  and  therefore  that  love  that 
so  far  masters  this,  as  to  induce  a  man  to  lay  it  down, 
must  needs  be  transcendent  and  supernatural.  For 
life  is  the  first  thing  that  nature  desires,  and  the  last 
that  it  is  willing  to  part  with.  But  how  poor  and 
low,  and  in  what  a  pitiful  shallow  channel  does  the 
love  of  the  worid  conmionly  run  !  Let  us  come  and 
desire  such  an  one  to  speak  a  favourable  word  or 
two  for  us  to  a  potent  friend,  and  how  much  of  coy- 
ness and  excuse  and  shyness  shall  we  find  !  the  man 
b  unwilling  to  spend  his  breath  in  speaking,  much 
less  in  dying  for  his  friend.  Come  to  another,  and 
ask  him  upon  the  stock  of  a  long  acquaintance  and 
•  professi-d  kindness,  to  borrow  but  a  little  money 
of  him,  and  how  quickly  does  he  fly  to  his  shifts, 
pleading  poverty,  debts,  and  great  occasions,  and 
anything,  rather  than  open  his  own  bowols  to  refresh 


those  of  his  poor  neighbour  !  The  man  will  not 
bleed  in  his  purse,  much  less  otherwise,  to  rescue 
his  friend  from  prison,  from  disgrace,  and  perhaps  a 
greai  disaster. 

But  now  how  incomparably  full  and  strong  must 
the  love  of  Christ  needs  have  been,  that  could  make 
Him  sacrifice  even  life  itself  for  the  good  of  mankind, 
and  not  only  die,  but 'die  with  all  the  heightening 
circumstances  of  pain  and  ignominy  ;  that  is  in  such  a 
manner,  that  death  was  the  least  part  of  the  suffer- 
ing !  Let  us  but  fix  our  thoughts  upon  Christ, 
hanging,  bleeding,  and  at  length  dying  upon  the 
cross,  and  we  shall  read  His  love  to  man  there,  in 
larger  and  more  visible  characters  than  the  super- 
scription that  the  Jews  put  over  His  head  in  so  many 
languages.  All  which,  and  many  more,  were  not 
sufficient  to  have  fully  expressed  and  set  forth  so 
incredibly  great  an  afifeclion.  Every  thorn  was  a 
pencil  to  represent,  and  every  groan  a  trumpet  to 
proclaim,  how  great  a  love  He  was  then  showing  to 
mankind. 

And  now  surely  our  love  must  needs  be  very  cola, 
if  all  the  blood  that  ran  in  our  Saviour's  veins  can- 
not warm  it  ;  for  all  that  was  shed  for  us,  and  shed 
for  that  very  purpose,  that  it  might  prevent  the 
shedding  of  ours.  Our  obnoxiousness  to  the  curse 
of  the  law  for  sin  had  exposed  us  to  all  the  extremity 
of  misery,  and  made  death  as  due  to  us,  as  wages 
to  the  workman.  And  the  divine  justice  (we  may 
be  sure)  would  never  have  been  behindhand  to  pay 
us  our  due.  The  dreadful  retribution  was  certain 
and  unavoidable  ;  and  therefore,  since  Christ  could 
not  jirevent.  He  was  pleased  at  last  to  divert  the 
blow,  and  to  turn  it  upon  Himself;  to  take  the  cup 
of  God's  fury  out  of  our  hands,  and  to  drink  off  the 
very  dregs  of  it.  The  greatest  love  that  men 
usually  bear  one  another  is  but  show  and  ceremony, 
compliment,  and  a  mere  appearance,  in  comparison 
of  this.  This  was  such  a  love  as  Solomon  says,  is 
"strong  as  death  ;"  and  to  express  it  yet  higher, 
such  an  one  as  was  stronger  than  the  very  desires  of 
life. 

Secondly,  The  other  transcendent  instance  of 
Christ's  love  to  mankind  was,  that  He  did  not  only 
die  for  us,  but  that  He  died  for  us  while  we  were 
enemies,  and  (in  the  phrase  of  Scripture)  enmity 
itself  against  Him.  It  is  [)ossible  indeed  that  some 
natures  of  a  nobler  mould  and  make  than  the 
generality  of  the  world,  may  arise  to  such  an  heroic 
degree  of  love,  as  to  induce  one  friend  to  die  for 
another.  For  the  apostle  says,  that  "  fcr  1  good 
man  one  would  even  dare  to  die."  And  we  may 
read  in  heathen  story  of  the  noble  contention  of  two 
friends,  which  of  them  should  have  the  pleasure  an^ 
honour  of  dying  in  the  other's  stead,  and  writing  the 
inward  love  of  his  heart  in  the  dearest  blood  that 
did  enliven  it. 

Yet  still  the  love  of  Christ  to  mankind  runs  in 
another  ana  a  higher  strain  :  for  admit  that  one 
man  had  died  for  another,  yet  still  it  has  been  for 
his  friend,  that  is,  for  something,  if  not  of  equal, 
yet  at  least  of  next  esteem  to  life  itself,  in  the  com- 
mon judgment  of  all.  Human  love  will  indeed 
sometimes  act  highly  and  generously,  but  still  it  is 
upon  a  suitable  object,  upon  something  that  is 
amiable ;  and  if  there  be  either  no  fuel,  or  that 
which  is  unsuitable,  the  flame  will  certainly  go 
out. 

But  the  love  of  Christ  does  not  find,  but  make 
us  lovely.  It  "  saw  us  in  our  blood  "  (as  the  prophet 
speaks),  wallowing  in  all  the  filth  and  impurities  of 


CHRIST. 


{    i66    ) 


CHRIST. 


oar  natural  corruption,  and  then  it  said  unto  us, 
Live.  Christ  then  laid  down  His  life  for  us,  whon 
we  had  lorfeited  our  own  to  Him.  Which  strange 
action  was,  as  if  a  prince  should  give  himself  a 
ransom  for  that  traitor  that  would  have  murdered 
him  ;  and  sovereignty  itself  lie  down  upon  the  block 
to  rescue  the  neck  of  a  rebel  from  the  stroke  of 
justice.  This  was  the  method  and  way  that  Christ 
took  in  what  He  suffered  for  us;  a  method  that 
reason  might  at  first  persuade  us  to  be  against 
nature,  and  that  religion  assures  us  to  be  above  it. 
— South,  1633- 1 716. 

(949.)  In  the  French  revolution,  a  young  man 
was  condemned  to  the  guillotine,  and  shut  up  in 
one  of  the  prisons.  He  was  greatly  loved  by  many, 
but  there  was  one  who  loved  him  more  than  all  put 
together.  How  know  we  this?  It  was  his  own 
father,  and  the  love  he  bore  his  son  was  proved  in 
this  way  :  when  the  lists  were  called,  the  father, 
whose  name  was  exactly  the  same  as  the  son's, 
answered  to  the  name,  and  the  father  rode  in  the 
gloomy  tumbril  out  to  the  place  of  execution,  an^ 
his  head  rolled  beneath  the  axe  instead  of  his  son's, 
a  victim  to  mighty  love.  See  here  an  image  of  the 
love  of  Christ  to  sinners ;  for  thus  Jesus  died  for  the 
ungodly.  — ^pur^eon. 

3.  Its  emblems. 

(950.)  What  beautiful  emblems  of  Christ's  love 
are  the  two  grandest  objects  of  nature,  sapphire  sea 
and  sapphire  sky  ;  the  boundless  extent  of  heaven's 
blue  field  cannot  be  measured  even  l)y  the  astro- 
nomer ;  so  the  length  and  breadih,  and  height  and 
depth  of  the  love  of  Christ  surpass  all  knowledge. 
We  know  something  of  what  is  nearest  us  of  the 
sky,  the  human  side  of  it,  as  it  were.  That  part 
which  lies  immediately  above  our  earth  is  familiar 
to  us,  from  the  offices  of  beauty  and  usefulness 
which  it  serves ;  the  firmament  in  this  respect 
shows  forth  the  handiwork  of  God  in  ministering 
continually  to  our  wants.  But  the  profound  abysses 
of  blue  beyond,  the  eternal,  unchangeable  heavens 
that  declare  God's  glory,  and  that  seemingly  have 
no  relation  to  man,  are  utterly  incomprehensible  to 
<is ;  the  very  stars  themselves  only  give  us  light  to 
show  the  infinity  of  space  in  which  they  are  scattered. 
So  the  love  of  Christ  in  its  human  aspect,  as  dis- 
played in  the  work  and  blessings  of  redemption,  and 
in  offices  of  care  and  kindness  to  us,  is  so  far  com- 
prehensible, for  otherwise  we  could  not  build  our 
trust  upon  it,  and  St.  I'aul  would  not  speak  of 
knmvimj  it  ;  but  its  infinite  fulness,  its  divine  per- 
ihelion, its  relation  to  the  universe,  is  utterly  beyond 
bur  knowledge,  and  eternity  itself,  though  spent  in 
acquiring  larger  and  brigliter  views  of  it,  will  fail  to 
exhaust  the  wondrous  theme.  The  boundless  blue 
sky  of  Christ's  love  bends  over  us,  comprehends  our 
little  life  within  it,  as  the  horizon  embraces  the  land- 
scape ;  wherever  we  move,  we  are  within  that  blue 
circular  terjt,  but  we  can  never  touch  its  eciges  ;  it 
folds  about  with  equal  serenity  and  adaptability  the 
lofty  mountain  and  the  lowly  vale,  the  foaming 
torrent  and  the  placid  lake  ;  the  bold,  rugged,  aspir- 
ing nature,  and  the  quiet  retiring  disposition,  the 
man  of  action,  and  the  man  of  thought,  the  impetu- 
ous Peter  and  the  loving  John  ;  it  softens  the  sharp 
extremes  of  things,  and  connects  the  highest  and 
lowest  by  its  subtile,  invisible  bonds,  and  yet 
stretches  far  aloft  beyond  the  reach  of  sight  or  sense 
into  the  fathomless  abyss  of  infinity.     Or,  to  take 


the  sea  as  the  comparison,  the  sea  touches  the  shora 
along  one  narrow  line,  and  all  the  beauty  and  fer- 
tility of  thp.t  shore  are  owing  to  its  life-giving  dews 
and  rains ;  but  it  stretches  away  from  the  shore, 
beyond  the  hori/.on,  into  regions  which  man's  eye 
has  never  seen,  and  the  further  it  recedes  the  deeper 
and  the  bluer  its  waters  become.  And  so  the  love 
of  Christ  touches  us  along  the  whole  line  of  our 
life,  imparts  all  the  beauty  and  fruitfulness  to  that 
life,  but  it  stretches  away  from  the  point  of  contact 
into  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  the  measure- 
less fulness  of  the  Godhead,  that  ocean  of  incon- 
ceivable, incommunicable  love  which  no  plummet 
can  sound,  or  eye  of  angel  or  saint  ever  scan  ;  and 
the  love  that  we  cannot  comprehenfl,  that  is  i)eyond 
our  reach,  is  as  much  love  as  that  whose  blessed 
influences  and  effects  we  feel.  — Macmillan. 

XXVI.    HIS  TENDER  MERCY. 

(951.)  "  A  bruised  reed  He  will  not  break." 
Simple,  but  exj^ressive  emblem  !  The  most  fragile 
thing  in  nature  is  the  shivermg  reed  by  the  liver 
side.  The  Eastern  shepherd  tending  his  flock  by 
the  streams  where  these  reeds  grow,  appears  to  have 
used  them  for  his  rustic  pipe.  When  one  of  them 
was  bruised  or  broken,  he  never  made  the  attempt 
to  mend  it.  By  inserting  it  among  the  others  he 
would  make  his  instrument  discordant,  and  accord- 
ingly he  threw  it  aside  as  worthless.  Not  so  the 
Great  Shepherd.  When  a  human  soul  is  bruised 
and  mutilated  by  sin,  He  casts  it  not  away.  That 
bruised  reed  "  He  will  not  break."  He  repairs  it 
for  its  place  in  the  heavenly  instrument,  and  makes 
it  once  more  to  show  forth  His  praise. 

— Macduff. 

XXVII.  HIS  SYMPATHY  WITH  HIS  PEOPLE. 

(952.)  "If,"  says  Augustine,  "a  man  should 
come  up  to  embrace  thee,  to  kiss  and  honour  thee 
upward,  and  beneath  with  a  pair  of  shoes  beaten 
full  of  nails  tread  upon  thy  bare  foot  ;  the  head 
shall  despise  the  honour  done  unto  it,  and  for  the 
foot  that  smarleth,  say.  Why  treadest  thou  upon 
me?  So  when  feigned  gospellers  honour  Christ 
our  Head,  sitting  in  heaven,  and  oppress  His  mem- 
bers on  earth,  the  Head  shall  speak  for  the  feet  that 
smart,  and  say.  Why  treadest  thou  on  me?"  Paul 
had  a  zeal  toward  God,  but  he  did  tread  upon  Clirist's 
feet  on  earth,  for  whom  the  Head  crieth  forth  of 
heaven,  "Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me?" 
Although  Christ  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of  His 
Father,  yet  lieth  He  on  earth  ;  He  suffereth  all 
calamities  here  on  earth,  He  is  many  times  evil 
entreated  here  on  earth.  — Bernard  Gilpin, 

(953.)  We  must  not  make  too  much  of  sympathy, 
as  mere  feeling.  We  do  in  things  spiritual  as  we  do 
with  hot-house  plants.  The  feeble  exotic,  beautiful 
to  look  at,  but  useless,  has  costly  sums  spent  on  it. 
The  hardy  oak,  a  nation's  strength,  is  permitted  to 
grow,  scarcely  observed,  in  the  fence  and  copses. 
We  prize  feeling  and  praise  its  possessor.  But  feel- 
ing is  only  a  sickly  exotic  in  itself — a  passive  quality 
having  in  it  nothing  moral,  no  temptation  and  no 
victory.  A  man  is  no  more  a  good  man  for  having 
feeling,  than  he  is  for  having  a  delicate  ear  for 
music,  or  a  far-seeing  optic  nerve.  The  Son  of  man 
had  feeling— lie  could  be  "  touched."  The  tear 
would  start  from  His  eyes  at  the  sight  of  human 
sorrow.     But  that  sympathy  was  no  exotic  in  Ilii 


CHRIST, 


(    i67    ) 


CHRIST. 


«oul,  beautiful  to  look  at,  too  delicate  for  use. 
Feeling  with  Him  led  to  this.  "He  Tient  about 
doing  good."  Sympathy  with  Him  was  this, 
"Grace  to  help  in  time  of  need."      — Robertson, 

(954.)  We  look  upon  an  ant-hill,  and  see  all  the 
business  activities,  the  fears,  the  little  wars,  the 
takings  and  losings,  of  one  side  and  another,  and 
hardly  think  of  the  actors.  They  are  scarcely  more 
to  us  than  the  rolling  sands  which  they  disturb.  We 
see  these  mimic  strifes  almost  without  a  thought. 
And  many  suppose  that  God  looks  down  upon  this 
greater  ant-hill,  and  beholds  the  thousand  conflicts 
of  human  experience,  with  just  as  little  thought  and 
care.  "No,"  says  the  apostle,  "our  (jod  is  not 
one  that  is  indifferent  to,  and  without  syni|)athy  for, 
the  actual  experiences  of  men.  We  have  not  an 
high  priest  which  cannot  be  touched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities," — with  human  weakness  and 
with  human  want — "but  was  in  all  points  tempted 
like  as  we  are  yet  without  sin.  Let  us,  therefore, 
come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  may 
obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of 
need."  — Beecher. 

(955.)  In  us,  so  far  as  our  knowledge  extends, 
sympathy  is  the  most  exquisite  and  perfect  exjjression 
of  love.  It  signifies  such  an  interest,  such  a  peculiar 
atTection,  that  the  person  sympathising  receives 
another's  experience  as  a  part  of  his  own  ;  whether 
it  be  joy  or  sorrow,  he  is  so  intimately  united  to 
another  that  he  feels  with  him;  that  whatever  feel- 
ing, pleasant  or  painful,  trembles  on  another's  heart, 
trembles  upon  his. 

We  can  imagine  a  being  to  be  helpful  in  various 
degrees  without  being  sympathetic  ;  as  when  a  man, 
acting  from  a  cold  sense  of  duty,  helps  anoihor  with 
a  sort  of  police  helpfulness,  or  from  considerations 
of  general  benevolence,  without  being  greatly  moved 
himself  It  is  possible  for  a  truly  benevolent  man 
to  be  entirely  serene  (as  a  physician,  who  bends 
over  a  patient  to  whom  he  is  giving  great  pain,  may 
be  kind  and  gentle),  and  yet  not  experience  in  him- 
self any  correspondence  of  feeling,  and  not  to  be, 
to  any  considerable  degree,  in  sympathy  with  that 
patient. 

But  there  are  relationships  in  which  men  are 
affected  by  another's  experience,  when  they  come 
nearer  than  mere  duty  or  ordinary  benevolence  would 
draw  them,  as  when  persons  are  connected  r.ogether 
by  bonds  of  personal  affection.  When  a  child  falls, 
it  hurts  the  mother  a  great  deal  more  than  it  hurts 
the  child,  though  notliing  touches  her  except  the 
sound  of  its  fall.  We  often  suffer  more  on  account 
of  otiiers'  troubles  than  they  themselves  do  in  those 
troubles,  for  both  love  and  sorrow  take  their  measure 
as  much  from  the  capacity  of  the  nature  that  experi- 
e.-ices  them  as  from  the  power  of  the  externally  ex- 
citing cause.  How  much  a  great  nature  loves  does 
not  depend  wholly  upon  how  much  there  is  to  love, 
but  upon  how  much  there  is  to  love  with.  In  like 
manner,  how  much  one  suffers  with  or  for  another, 
does  not  depend  altogether  upon  how  much  that 
Other  is  suffering,  but  upon  how  much  that  nature 
which  sympathises  has  with  which  to  suffer. 

Now  the  leaching  here— and  it  only  corroborates 
what  is  abundantly  taught  elsewhere  in  the  New 
Testament — the  leaching  here,  in  respect  to  our 
Saviour,  is.  that  He  sympathises  with  us  as  His 
children.  He  feels  with  us,  so  that  our  experiences 
throw  their  waves  upon  the  shore  of  His  soul,     lie 


carries  us  so  near  to  His  heart  that  all  our  feelings, 
which  are  of  any  monien\,  produce  their  effects,  in 
some  degree,  in  His  bosom. 

It  seems  very  strange  that  the  Maker  of  all  the 
earth  should  permit  Himself  to  be  a  participant  in 
all  the  petty  experiences  that  belong  to  any  human 
life.  No  man  would  have  dared  to  conceive  such 
an  idea  of  God,  and  ti  have  believed  any  such 
thing  as  that,  if  it  had  not  been  reveaied  in  unequi- 
vocal terms  ;  for  men  would  have  said,  "  it  is 
beneath  any  true  idea  of  the  majesty  of  God  to 
suppose  that  He  bends  His  bosom  to  all  the  rippling 
waves  of  human  hearts,  and  feels  again  what  they 
are  feeling  in  their  lower  courses." 

A  great  mountain  lifts  itself  up  with  perpendicular 
face  over  against  some  quiet  valley  ;  and  when 
summer  thunders  with  great  storms  the  cliff  echoes 
the  thunder,  and  rolls  it  forth  a  second  time  with 
majesty  increased  ;  and  we  think  that,  to  be  sublime, 
storms  should  awaken  mountain  echoes,  and  that 
then  cau.se  and  etiect  are  worthy  of  each  other. 
Hut  so,  too,  oriole,  or  a  song-sparrow,  singing  before 
it,  hears  its  own  little  song  sung  back  again.  A 
little  child,  lost,  and  crying  in  the  valley,  hears  the 
great  cliff  weeping  just  as  it  weeps;  and,  in  sooth, 
the  mountain  rejjeats  whatever  is  sounded,  from  the 
sublimest  notes  of  the  tempest  to  the  sweetest  bird- 
whisper  or  child-Weeping  ;  and  it  is  just  as  easy  to 
do  the  little  as  the  great,  and  more  beautiful.  Now 
God  is  our  Rock,  and  from  His  neart  is  reflected 
every  experience,  every  feeling  of  joy  or  grief,  that 
any  human  soul  utters  or  knows.  — Beecher. 

(956.)  The  sympathy  of  Christ  includes  our  sin. 
He  is  sorry  for  us,  and  sympathises  with  us  on 
account  of  our  sin.  Calvary,  mountain  of  bless- 
ings, is  testimony  that  "  Goil  so  loved  the  world 
that  He  gave  liis  only  begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."  No  trumpet  will  ever  speak  as 
the  death  of  Christ  speaks  in  evidence  of  our  woes 
and  sorrows  to  affect  the  sympathetic  heart  of  G*od, 
and  make  Him  sorry  for  us.  Living,  He  gave 
Himself  for  us;  dying.  He  gave  Himself  for  us; 
living  again,  He  lives  to  intercede  for  us  ;  and  the 
further  we  can  remove  this  idea  from  all  our  hearts, 
and  the  nearer  we  can  bring  it  home  to  our  con- 
sciousness of  guilt,  the  more  nearly  shall  we  come 
to  the  feelings  of  Christ  toward  those  who  are 
sinful.  Let  me,  in  this  connection,  read  a  verse  or 
two  preceding  our  text  : — "The  Word  of  God," 
that  is,  God's  mind — "  is  quick  and  powerful,  and 
sharper  than  any  two-edged  sword,  piercing  even 
to  the  dividing  asunder  of  our  soul  and  spirit,  and 
of  the  joints  and  marrow,  and  is  a  discerner  of  the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart.  Neither  is  there 
any  creature  that  is  not  manifest  in  His  sight  ;  but 
all  things  are  naked  and  open  unto  the  eyes  of 
Him  with  whom  we  have  to  do." 

What  a  tremendous  expression  of  God's  insight 
into.  His  familiarity  with,  and  the  universality  of 
His  knowledge  of,  every  throb  and  fluctuation  of 
the  wickedness  of  the  human  soul !  It  is  ana- 
tomised, dissected,  laid  open,  and  God  looks  upon 
it,  and  He  sees  the  whole  of  it  perfectly.  And  it  is 
in  view  of  this  knowledge  of  God  of  the  intensity 
and  the  inieriorness  of  our  moral  unworth  and  sin- 
fulness that  we  have  this  exhortation  :  "  Let  us 
therefore  come  boluly  unto  the  throne  of  grace, 
that  we  may  obtain  mercy  and  find  grace  to  help 
in  time  of  need." 


CHRIST. 


(    l<58    ) 


CHRUT. 


A  man  goes  to  his  physician,  and  says  to  him, 
**I  have,  sir,  very  great  suffering;  I  have  very 
sharp  pains  that  slioot  through  my  breast  ;  I  have 
very  acute  pains  in  my  spine  ;  and  my  head  seems 
to  have  abandoned  all  its  uses."  The  physician 
interrogates  him,  and  says  to  him,  "What  has 
been  the  course  of  your  life?"  The  man  is 
ashamed  to  tell ;  he  says,  "Well,  sir,  I  have  been 
exposed  to  dampness  in  various  ways,  and  my  im- 
pression is  that  I  am  troubled  with  neuralgia." 
The  physician  proceeds  to  prescribe  for  him  on  the 
supposition  that  his  difficulty  is  neuralgia  ;  but  as 
he  gets  no  better,  but  a  good  deal  worse,  he  says  to 
himself,  "  I  do  not  believe  my  physician  under- 
stands my  case.  I  do  not  believe  the  medicine  he 
is  giving  me  is  doing  me  any  good."  But  he  has 
withheld  the  truth  from  his  physician.  He  has 
not  let  him  into  the  secret  of  his  trouble.  At 
length  he  goes  to  another  physician,  and  says, 
*•  Can  you  do  me  any  good  ? "  This  physician 
knows  so  much  that  he  don't  know  anylhini,' ;  and 
after  putting  a  few  pompous  questions  to  the  man 
concerning  his  case,  he  says,  "Yes,  I  can  cure 
you,"  and  accordingly  he  gives  him  a  few  remedies. 
But  they  afford  him  no  relief.  After  a  few  weeks 
he  says  to  himself,  "  I  do  not  believe  this  phy- 
sician understands  my  case  either."  And  by  and 
by,  after  suffering  nights  and  suflTering  days,  his 
strength   becomes   much   reduced,   and    there  is  a 

Erospect  of  a  speedy  termination  of  all  his  earthly 
opes  and  expectations,  when  he  says  to  himself, 
"What  a  fool  I  am  for  lying,  and  hiding  the  real 
cause  of  my  difficulty!"  He  now  goes  to  his 
physician  again,  and  hangs  down  his  head — he 
ought  to  have  hung  it  down  before — and  explains 
the  cause  of  his  disease,  which  he  had  been  so  long 
concealing^  The  physician  sayg,  "  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  of  this  before  ?  Since  you  have  given 
this  explanation,  your  difficulty  is  perfectly  plain  to 
me.  It  is  very  late,  but  I  think  I  know  now  just 
where  to  put  the  remedy.  Now  I  will  undertake 
your  case,  and  I  can  cure  you."  It  is  a  word  of 
relief  to  him  that  he  has  told  the  physician  all  he 
knows  about  his  difficulty. 

Now  this  is  the  foundation  of  the  comfort  of  this 
passage.  The  apostle  says,  "  Here  is  this  God, 
with  clear,  unblemished  eye,  which  no  darkness 
can  shroud,  from  which  no  man's  thought  can  be 
hid,  which  can  penetrate  into  the  deepest  recesses 
of  man's  being.  There  is  no  imagination  of  the 
mind  or  aspiration  of  the  heart  which  He  does  not 
know.  The  soul  and  body  are  open  and  naked  to 
His  gaze,  and  He  knows  perfectly  whatever  takes 
place  in  connection  with  either.  Now,  then,  let  us 
come  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace  that  we  may 
obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  us  in  time  of 
need."  God  sees  every  thought  and  motive  on  our 
part,  and  He  knows  what  we  need  in  order  to 
obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace,  and  live,  and,  know- 
ing all  this,  He  says  to  us,  "  Now  come,  now 
come."  — Beecher, 

(957.)  During  the  last  sad  days  of  the  great 
Rebellion  a  lady  had  occasion  to  see  President 
Lincoln,  to  prefer  a  request  of  great  importance  to 
herself,  and  to  one  that  she  loved  better  than  her- 
self. The  importance  of  her  errand  made  her 
nervous  ;  but  the  fact  that  she  must  plead  her  case 
with  the  President  himself  made  her  more  so.  She 
had  never  seen  him  ;  but  from  a  distance  she  had 
learned,   as  we  all   had,   greaUy   to  honour   and 


respect  him.  In  speaking  of  the  interview  after- 
ward, she  said  that,  as  she  entered  the  room  where 
he  sat  alone,  she  trembled  greatly  ;  but  when  she 
looked  into  his  face,  as  he  rose  to  greet  her,  she 
forgot  the  President  in  the  sight  of  the  man.  She 
saw  that  he  was  a  kind  and  gentle  man ;  and, 
though  she  could  not  forget  that  on  his  word  hung 
life  and  death,  she  could  tell  her  story  freely  to  one 
who  could  feel  for  her,  who,  in  sjiite  of  all  his 
cares,  could  be,  and  was  interested  in  her  and  her 
trouble.  Is  there  not  a  lesson  here?  When  we  go 
to  Jesus  with  our  troubles  and  our  wants,  do  we 
realise  that  He  is  a  loving,  gentle-hearted  man? 
When  we  think  of  the  last  great  day,  do  we  re- 
member, as  we  should,  or  get  the  comfort  to  our 
hearts  that  there  is  in  the  truth,  that  we  are  to 
stand  before  the  judgment  bar  of  Christ — that  we 
have  not  an  high  priest  that  cannot  be  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities  ? 

XXVI 11.  HIS  COMPASSIOy  FOR  THB, 
TEMPTED. 

(958.)  You  have  children.  Then  you  will  easily 
feel  a  plain  illustration.  A  child,  three  or  four  years 
of  age  we  will  say,  while  playing  incautiously  at  a 
little  distance  from  home,  is  suddenly  seized  and 
carried  away  by  a  gipsy.  Poor  thing  !  how  terri- 
fied, how  distressed  must  it  be  !  Methinks  I  heai 
its  cries.  The  sight  and  violence  of  the  stranger, 
the  recollection  of  its  dear  parents,  the  loss  of  its 
pleasing  home,  the  dread  and  uncertainty  of  what 
is  yet  to  befall  it.  Is  it  not  a  wonder  that  it  does 
not  die  in  agonies?  But  see,  help  is  at  hand  !  the 
gipsy  is  pursued,  and  the  child  recovered.  Now, 
my  dear  madam,  if  this  were  your  child,  how 
would  you  receive  it  ?  Perhaps,  when  the  first 
transports  of  your  joy  for  its  safety  would  permit 
you,  you  might  gently  chide  it  for  leaving  your 
door.  But  would  you  disinherit  it?  Would  you 
disown  it?  Would  you  deliver  it  up  again  to  the 
gipsy  with  your  own  hands,  because  it  had  suffered 
a  violence  which  it  could  not  withstand,  which  it 
abhorred,  and  to  which  its  will  never  consented  ? 
And  yet  what  is  the  tenderness  of  a  mother,  of  ten 
thousand  mothers,  to  that  which  our  compassionate 
Saviour  bears  to  every  poor  soul  that  has  been 
enabled  to  flee  to  Him  for  salvation  !  Let  us  be 
tar  from  charging  that  to  Him,  of  which  we  think 
we  are  utterly  incapable  ourselves.  Take  courage, 
resist  the  devil  and  he  will  flee  from  you.  If  he 
were  to  tempt  you  to  anything  criminal,  you  would 
start  at  the  thought,  and  renounce  it  with  abhor- 
rence. Do  the  same  when  he  tempts  you  to 
question  the  Lord's  compassion  and  goodness.  But 
there  he  imposes  upon  us  with  a  show  of  humility, 
and  persuades  us  that  we  do  well  to  oppose  our 
unworihiness  as  a  sufficient  exception  to  the  many 
express  promises  of  the  Word.  It  is  said,  "the 
blood  of  Jesus  cleanseth  from  all  sin :  that  all 
manner  of  sin  shall  be  forgiven  for  His  sake  ;  that 
whosoever  cometh  to  Him,  He  will  in  no  wise  cast 
him  out ;  and  that  He  is  able  to  save  to  the  utter- 
most." Believe  His  Word,  and  Satan  shall  be 
found  a  liar.  If  the  child  had  deliberately  gone 
away  with  the  gipsy,  had  preferred  that  wretched 
way  of  life,  and  had  refused  to  return,  though 
frequently  and  tenderly  invited  home  ;  perhai)s  a 
parent's  love  might,  in  time,  be  too  weak  to  plead 
for  the  pardon  of  such  continued  obstinacy.  But, 
indeed,  in  this  manner  we  have  all  dealt  with  the 


CHRIST. 


(    169    ) 


CHRIST. 


Lord  ;  and  yet,  whenever  we  are  willing  to  return, 
He  is  willing  to  receive  us  with  open  arms,  and 
without  an  upbraiding  word  (Luke  xv.  20,  22). 
Though  our  sins  have  been  deep-dyed  like  scarlet 
and  crimson,  enornjous  as  mountains,  and  countless 
as  the  sands,  the  sum  total  is  only  this,  sin  has 
abounded,  but  where  sin  has  abounded,  grace  has 
much  more  abounded.         — Newton,  1 725-1807. 

XXIX.  HIS  CARE  FOR  THE  WEAK. 

(959.)  Heathenism  was  always  exalting  the  top 
of  society,  the  great  men,  and  taking  no  thought 
for  the  masses  below  them.  Christianity  says, 
"The  great  and  the  strong  can  take  care  of  them- 
selves, and  so  seeks  to  elevate  the  lowest  and 
poorest.  Christ  never  warned  us  against  not  re- 
specting a  king's  crown ;  but  His  words  were, 
"  Whoso  shall  otTend  one  of  these  little  ones  which 
believe  in  Me,  it  were  better  for  him  that  a  mill- 
stone were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were 
drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea."  As  in  the 
family,  it  is -not  the- son  of  .twenty-one  years,  but 
the  babe,  whom  the  mother  rocks  to  sleep  in  the 
cradle  ;  so,  in  Christ's  family  of  earth,  it  is  not  the 
full-grown  and  the  mature  for  whom  He  most 
tenderly  provides  ;  it  is  the  weak,  and  those  on 
whom  the  world's  law  tramples,  that  He  takes 
tenderly  up  with  His  strong  arm,  and  rocks  in  the 
cradle  of  His  love  and  care.  — Beecher. 

(960.)  He  came  not  in  the  spirit  of  Elias,  but 
with  meekness  and  gentle  insinuations,  mild  as  the 
breath  of  heaven,  not  willing  to  disturb  the  softest 
stalk  of  a  violet. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  161 2-1667. 

(961.)  The  other  day  the  children  were  learning 
the  Twenty-third  Psalm,  and  we  were  talking  to- 
gether about  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  how  He 
takes  care  of  the  sheep  and  the  little  lambs.  Im- 
petuous Mamy,  eager  to  speak  her  one  thought, 
said  rapidly  : 

"lie  feeds  them,  and  drives  away  the  lions  and 
the  bears. " 

"Yes,"  said  Tiny  thoughtfully,  "and  He 
carries  them  up  hill." 

"  He  carries  them  up  hill  ! " 

The  words  went  to  my  heart  with  a  strength  and 
sweetness  the  little  speaker  did  not  dream  of. 
Often,  often  since,  their  music  has  thrilled  through 
my  tired  soul  like  an  echo  of  the  angel's  song. 

XXX.  HIS  DISINTERESTEDNESS. 

(962.)  Do  you  ever  find,  among  all  the  persons 
whom  Christ  miraculously  cured,  a  single  one  whom 
He  retained  to  be  afterwards  near  Him  as  His 
disciple,  His  attendant.  His  votary?  .  .  .  Where 
now  is  your  worldly  friend  who  will  behave  himself 
towards  you  in  this  fashion?  So  far  from  it,  no 
sooner  has  he  done  you  any  service,  however 
trifling,  than  he  immediately  lays  a  claim  upon  you 
for  your  daily  attendance  upon  him.  He  requires 
you  to  be  henceforth  always  at  his  elbow,  and  to 
be  giving  him  continually  every  possible  proof  of 
your  graiitude,  of  your  devoted  and  even  slavish 
attachment  to  his  person.  •^Segneri, 

XXXI.  PRECIOUS  TO  THEM  THAT  BE- 
UEVk. 

(963.)  To  see  Jesus    clearly  with  the  eye    of 


faith,  is  to  see  the  deep  opening  a  way  from 
Egypt's  to  freedom's  shore ;  is  to  see  the  watei 
gush,  full  and  sparkling  from  the  desert  rock  ;  is  to 
see  the  serpent  gleaming  on  its  pole  over  a  dying 
camp ;  is  to  see  the  life-boat  coming  when  our 
bark  is  thumping  on  the  bank,  or  ground  on  rocks 
by  foaming  breakers ;  is  to  see  a  pardon  when  the 
noose  is  round  our  neck,  and  our  foot  is  on  the 
drop.  No  sight  in  the  wide  world  like  Jesus 
Christ,  with  forgiveness  on  His  lips,  and  a  crown  in 
His  blessed  hand  1  This  is  worth  labouring  for  ; 
praying  for  ;  living  for ;  suffering  for  ;  dying  for. 
You  remember  how  the  prophet's  servant  climbed 
the  steeps  of  Carmel.  Three  years,  and  never 
cloud  had  dappled  the  burning  sky — three  long 
years,  and  never  a  dewdrop  had  glistened  on  the 
grass,  or  wet  the  lips  of  a  dying  flower  ;  but  the 
cloud  came  at  last.  No  bigger  than  a  man's  hand, 
it  rose  from  the  sea  ;  it  spread  ;  and  as  he  saw 
the  first  lightnings  flash,  and  heard  the  first 
thunders  roll,  how  did  he  forget  all  his  toils  !  and 
would  have  climbed  the  hill,  not  seven,  but  seventy 
timessevjenjirnes,  to  hail  that  welcome  sight  1 

It  is  so  with  sinners  so  soon  as  their  eyes  are 
gladdened  with  a  believing  sis^ht  of  Christ  ;  when 
they  have  got  Christ ;  and  with  Him  peace.  Be  it 
that  you  have  to  climb  the  hill  of  prayer,  not 
seven,  but  seven  thousand  times,  such  a  sight  shall 
more  than  reward  all  your  toil.  — Guthrie, 

XXXII.  THE  EVER  FAITHFUL  FRIEND. 

(964.)  Extremity  distinguisheth  friends.  Worldly 
pleasures,  like  physicians,  give  us  over,  when  once 
we  lie  a  dying  ;  and  yet  the  deathbed  had  most 
need  of  comforts;  Christ  Jesus  -tandeth  by  His  in 
the  pangs  of  death,  and  after  death  at  the  bar  of 
judgment  ;  not  leaving  them  either  in  their  bed  or 
grave.  I  will  use  them,  therefore,  to  my  best 
advantage  ;  not  trust  ihem.  Hut  for  Thee,  O  my 
Lord,  which  in  mercy  and  truth  canst  not  fail  me, 
whom  I  have  found  ever  faithful  and  present  in  all 
extremities,  kill  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Thee  ! 

— JJall,  1574-1656. 

XXXIII.  HOW  WE  CAN  SERVE  HIM. 

(965.)  Dear  brethren,  do  you  know  that  you 
could  not  do  anytliing  that  would  touch  my  heart 
so  much  as  that  which  you  should  do  to  my  child  ? 
You  might  put  a  fortune  upon  my  shoulders  and  I 
should  be  grateful  ;  but  he  who  helps  my  child  to 
begin  his  life  aright  burdens  me  with  gratitude  a 
thousand  times  more.  If  my  child  were  in  peril, 
and  you  should  succour  him  in  a  distant  city,  and 
the  tidings  should  come  home  to  me,  1  could  not 
find  words  to  thank  you  for  what  you  did  for  him. 
I  should  be  grateful  if  you  did  it  for  me,  but  not  so 
much  as  if  you  did  it  for  my  child,  because  my 
child  is  himself  and  myself  too ;  and  my  feelings 
for  him  are  more  than  my  feelings  for  myself. 
What  you  do  for  my  child  is  the  deepest  and  truest 
service  that  you  can  render  me.  And  how  do  you 
think  it  is  in  the  bosom  of  your  God  and  your 
Saviour?  If  you  take  up  in  your  arms  the  de- 
spoiled, and  the  outcast,  and  the  lost ;  if  you  wash 
them  in  your  tears  ;  if  you  are  to  them,  in  your 
small  way,  what  Christ  has  been  to  you  ;  if  you 
call  them,  and  bring  them  back  again  from  wrong 
courses;  and  if  you  are  permitted  to  stand  in  His 
presence  in  the  last  day,  and  say  to  Him,  "Here 


CIlRrST. 


(  170  .1 


CHRTST. 


am  I,  and  these,"  what  will  be  the  joy  which  you 
shall  experience  ?  What  will  be  that  gladness, 
what  will  be  that  love,  which  will  roll  forth  from 
the  soul  of  Jesus  to  any  one  of  you  that  watches 
with  11  im  on  earth,  and  watches  with  Ilim  in 
behalf  of  His  little  ones  ?  — Beecher. 

XXXIV.    HIS  EYE  OUR  STIMULUS. 

(966.)  There  is  a  touching  fact  related  in  a 
history  of  a  Highland  chief,  of  the  noble  house  of 
M'Gregor,  who  fell  wounded  by  two  balls  at  the 
battle  of  Prestonpans.  Seeing  their  chief  fall,  the 
clan  wavered,  and  gave  the  enemy  an  advantage. 
The  old  chieftain,  beholding  the  effect  of  his 
disaster,  raised  himself  up  on  his  elbow,  while  the 
blood  gushed  in  streams  from  his  wounds,  and 
rried  aloud,  "  I  am  not  dead,  my  children  ;  I  am 
looking  at  you  to  see  you  do  your  duty. "  These 
Cords  revived  the  sinking  courage  of  his  brave 
Highlanders.  There  was  a  charm  in  the  fact  that 
they  still  fought  under  the  eye  of  their  chief.  It 
roused  them  to  put  forth  their  mightiest  ener|;ies, 
and  they  did  all  that  human  strength  could  do  to 
turn  and  stem  the  dreadful  tide  of  battle. 

And  is  there  not  a  charm  to  you,  0  believer,  in 
the  fact  that  you  contend  in  the  battle-field  of  life 
under  the  eye  of  your  Saviour  ?  Wherever  you  are, 
however  you  are  oppressed  by  foes,  however  ex- 
hausted by  the  stern  strife  with  evil,  the  eye  of 
Christ  is  fixed  most  lovingly  upon  you. 

—D.  Wise. 

XXXV.  THE  POWER  OF  HIS  REPROOF. 
(967.)  It  is  innocence  which  enables  eloquence 
to  re|)rove  with  power  ;  and  guilt  attacked  Hies 
before  the  face  of  him  who  has  none.  And  there- 
fore, as  every  rebuke  of  vice  comes,  or  should 
come  from  the  preacher's  mouth,  like  a  dart  dr 
arrow  thrown  by  some  mighty  hand,  which  does 
execution  proportionally  to  the  force  or  impulse  it 
received  from  that  which  threw  it  ;  so  our  Saviour's 
matchless  virtue,  free  from  the  least  tincture  of  any- 
thing immoral,  armed  everyone  of  His  reproofs 
with  a  picrcmg  edge,  and  an  irresistible  force  ;  so 
that  truth,  in  that  respect,  never  came  naked  out  of 
His  mouth,  but  either  clothed  with  thumler,  or 
wrapped  up  in  all  the  powers  of  persuasion  ;  still 
His  person  animated  and  gave  life  and  vigour  to 
His  expression  ;  all  His  commands  being  but  the 
tiinscrijit  of  His  own  life,  and  His  sermons  a 
living  paraphrase  upon  His  practice. 

— ^outk^  1 633-1 7 16. 

XXXVI.    CHRIST  AND   THE  SOUL. 

1.  He  ts  the  Rest  and  Stay  of  ths  Soul. 

(968.)  There  is  no  agent  that  takes  any  rest  or 
contentment  but  in  its  proper  object,  if  a  man 
had  all  the  musical  raptures  and  melodious  harmony 
in  the  whole  world  before  him,  he  could  not  hear  it 
with  his  eyes,  because  it  is  the  proper  object  of  the 
ear  :  if  never  so  triumphant  shows  or  couitly  masks, 
he  could  not  see  them  with  his  ears,  because  they 
are  the  ])ro|)er  object  of  the  eye.  So  it  is  with  the 
soul  of  man.  If  it  were  possible  that  all  the  trea- 
sures, pleasures,  honours,  preferments,  and  delights 
whic^  the  world  doth  affect  were  presented  and 
tenilered  to  the  soul,  yet  would  they  not  afford 
unto  it  any  true  satisfaction,  because  they  be  not  the 
profr  object   and  centre  of  the  soul.     It  is  the 


Lord  only,  or  as  a  good  martyr  said  once,  "  None 
but  Christ — none  but  Christ  can  compass  the  soul 
about  with  true  content  and  comfort." 

— Evans. 

(969.)  The  needle's  point  in  the  seaman's  com- 
pass never  stands  still,  but  quivers  and  shakes  till  it 
comes  right  against  the  North  Pole.  The  wise  men 
of  the  East  never  stood  still  till  they  were  right 
against  the  star  which  appearei.1  unto  them,  and  the 
star  itself  never  stood  still  till  it  came  right  against 
that  other  Star  which  shined  more  brightly  in  the 
manger  than  the  sun  did  in  the  firmament  ;  and 
Noah's  dove  could  find  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  het 
foot  all  the  while  she  was  fluttering  over  the  flood, 
till  she  returned  to  the  ark  with  an  olive  branch  in 
her  mouih.  .^o  the  heart  of  every  true  Christian 
can  find  no  rest  till  Christ  put  forth  His  hand  and 
receive  her  to  Himself.  — Clark,  1599-1682. 

(970.)  The  hearts  of  believers  are  like  the  needle 
troubled  by  the  loadstone,  which  cannot  rest  until 
it  comes  to  the  ]ioint  whereunto,  by  a  secret  virtue, 
it  is  directed  :  for  being  once  touched  by  the  love  ol 
Christ,  receiving  therein  an  impression  of  sweet 
ineffalile  virtue,  they  will  ever  be  in  motion  and 
restless  until  they  come  unto  Him,  and  behold  His 
glory.  — Owen,  1616-1683. 

(971.)  There  are  some  plants  which  grow  right 
up,  erect,  in  their  own  sturdy  self-sufficiency  ;  and 
there  are  some  feeble  ones  which  take  hold'  with 
their  hands,  and  clasp  and  climb.  The  soul  of  man 
is  like  these  last.  Even  in  his  best  estate  he  was 
not  meant  to  grow  insulated  and  stand  alor.e.  He 
is  not  strong  enough  for  that.  He  has  net  within 
himself  resources  sufficient  to  fill  himself  He  is 
not  fit  to  be  his  own  all-in-all.  The  make  of  his 
mind  is  an  outgoing,  exploring,  petitionary  mak«. 
The  soul  of  man  is  a  clasping,  clinging  soul,  seek- 
ing to  something  over  which  it  can  spread  itself, 
and  by  means  of  which  it  can  support  itself.  And 
just  as,  in  a  neglected  garden,  you  may  see  the  poor 
creepers  making  shift  to  sustain  themselves  as  best 
they  can  ;  one  cotivolvulus  twisting  round  another, 
anil  bo:h  <.lraggling  on  the  ground  ;  a  clematis  lean- 
ing on  the  door,  which  will  by  and  by  open  and  let 
the  whole  mass  fall  down  ;  a  vine  or  a  passion- 
flower wreathing  round  a  prop  which  all  the  while 
chafes  and  cuts  it  ;  so  in  this  fallen  world  it  is 
mournful  to  see  the  efforts  which  human  souls  are 
making  to  get  some  sufficient  object  to  lean  upon 
and  twine  around.  One  clasps  a  glittering  prop, 
and  it  scathes  him.  The  love  of  money  blasts  his 
soul,  and  it  hangs  round  its  self-chosen  slay  a 
bliglited,  withered  thing.  Another  spreads  himself 
more  amply  over  a  t)road  surface  of  creature-com- 
fort, a  snug  dwelling,  a  well-furnished  library, 
and  a  pleasant  neighliourhood,  with  the  command 
of  everything  which  heart  can  wish  or  fortune  buy  ; 
but  death  opens  the  door,  and,  with  nothing  but 
vacancy  to  lean  upon,  he  falls  over  on  the  other 
side 'a  helpless  and  dejected  being.  And  a  still 
greater  number,  groping  about  along  the  ground, 
cleave  to  one  another,  and  intertwine  their  tendrils 
mutually,  and  by  forming  friendships  and  congenial 
intimacies  and  close  relations,  try  to  satisfy  iheii 
leaning,  loving  nature  in  this  way.  But  it  answers 
hitlc  in  the  end.  The  make  of  man's  soul  is  upward, 
and  one  climber  cannot  lift  another  off  the  ground. 
And  the  growth  of  man's  soul  is  'uxuriant.  and  that 


CHRIST. 


(     171     ) 


CHRIST. 


growth  must  be  stifled,  checked,  and  scanty,  if  he 
have  no  larger  space  over  which  to  diffuse  his 
aspirations,  his  affections,  and  his  efforts,  than  the 
surface  of  a  fellow-creature's  soul.  But,  weedy  as 
this  world-garden  is,  the  Tree  of  Life  still  grows  in 
the  midst  of  it,  erect  in  His  own  omnipotent  self- 
sufficiency,  antl  inviting  every  weary,  straggling 
soul  to  lay  hold  of  His  everlasting  strength,  and 
expatiate  upwards  along  the  infinite  ramifications 
of  His  endless  excellences  and  all-inviting  love. 

God  has  formed  the  soul  of  man  of  a  leaning, 
dependent  make  ;  and  for  the  healthy  growth  and 
joyful  development  of  that  soul  it  is  essential  that 
he  should  have  some  object  far  higher  and  nobler 
than  himself  to  dispreai  his  desires  and  delights 
upon.  That  object  is  revealed  in  the  Gospel. 
That  object  is  Immanuel.  His  divinity  is  the 
Almighty  prop,  able  to  sustain  the  adhering  soul  so 
that  it  shall  never  perish  nor  come  into  condem- 
nation ;  the  omnipotent  support  which  bears  the 
Clinging  spirit  loftily  and  securely,  so  that  the 
whirling  temptations  which  vex  it  cannot  rend  it 
ftom  the  Tree  of  Life,  and  that  the  muddy  plash, 
which  soils  and  beats  into  the  earth  its  sprawling 
neighbours,  cannot  tarnish  the  verdant  serenity  and 
limpid  glories  of  its  flowering  head.  And  just  as 
His  Divine  strength  is  the  omnipotent  prop  of  the 
adhering  soul,  so  His  Divine  resources  and  His 
human  sympathy  make  Him  the  all-sufficient  object 
over  which  each  emotion  and  each  desire  of  regene- 
rate humanity  may  boundlessly  diffuse  itself.  And 
however  delicate  your  feelings,  however  eager  your 
affections,  and  however  multitudinous  the  necessities 
of  your  intricate  nature,  there  is  that  in  this  heavenly 
Frie-id  which  meets  them  every  one.  There  are  in 
His  unimaginable  coinpassions,  and  in  His  benig- 
nant fellow-feelings,  holds  sufficient  for  every  craving 
tendril  and  eager  clasper  of  the  human  heart  to  fix 
upou  and  wreathe  around. 

— Hamilton,  1814-1S67. 

2.  How  He  Is  appropriated  by  the  soul. 

(972.)  My  conception  of  Christ  is,  that  He  is 
mine:  not  mine  in  any  sense  which  appropriates 
Him  to  me  alone  ;  but  mine  as  really  and  truly  as 
though  I  were  the  only  human  being  in  the  universe. 
My  lather  was  absolutely  mine,  although  my  next 
younger  brother  could  say  the  same  thing,  and 
though  every  brother  and  sister  could  say  the  same 
thing.  1  had  the  whole  of  him,  and  each  of  my 
brothers  and  sisters  had  the  whole  of  him.  And 
1  have  the  whole  of  my  God.  The  God  of  all  the 
heaven,  and  the  God  of  the  whole  earth,  and  of 
time,  and  of  physical  law  and  its  sequence,  and 
of  all  invisible  laws  and  their  sequences — He  is 
my  God.  — Buecher, 

3.  How  He  dwells  in  the  soul. 

(973.)  This  matter  is  likened,  in  the  Bible,  to 
hospitality.  "1  stand  at  the  door  and  knock;  if 
Any  man  hear  My  voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will 
come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him,  and  he  with 
Me."  God  comes  to  men's  souls  ;  He  comes  fo  the 
soul-house  of  men;  He  enters  there;  He  holds 
communion  with  them.  It  is  as  if  a  benefactor 
entered  into  a  dwelling  to  bring  joy,  treasure,  relief 
— whatever  gift  he  might  please  to  bestow.  Christ 
comes  to  me,  transforming  all  that  is  visible  and  all 
that  is  invisible  in  me.  i  do  not  belhve  that  God 
is  a  persoa  vho  sits  in  one  place  as  a  man's  body 


does.  T  stand  here  in  my  body  ;  but  that  is  not  me. 
My  thoughts  are  running  quickly  to  and  fro.  They 
stretch  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  the  going  down 
of  the  same.  I  am  where  my  thoughts  are,  and 
where  my  affections  are.  I  am  conscious  that  my 
inner  manhood  spreads  abroad,  and  is  already 
superior  to  time  and  space.  And  my  God  is  not  a 
person  in  such  a  sense  that  He  is  fixed.  Everywhere 
the  atfiuent  mind  of  God  pervades  the  universe.  He 
enters  into  my  mind.  1  le  touches  the  springs  of  life 
and  being  in  me.  And  it  is  the  quality  of  the  Divine 
indwelling  to  develop  in  men  their  superior  nature — 
not  their  animal  ;  to  give  authority  and  power  to 
their  faculties — love,  and  hope,  and  faith,  and  con- 
science, and  the  moral  sense  ;  to  set  them  free  from 
the  dominion  of  the  appetites  and  passions.  I  believe 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  an  indwelling  God.  In  other 
words,  I  believe  there  is  such  a  thing  as  the  direct 
sympathetic  action  of  the  Divine  mind  on  certain 
parts  of  our  mind. 

Let  a  little  child  be  in  the  room  with  a  slate 
making  figures,  and  let  that  child,  if  it  be  musically 
inclined,  hear  the  mother  sing  in  a  low  tone,  and  its 
thoughts  begin  to  sing  the  tune  that  the  mother  is 
singing, — involuntarily.  Let  the  child  sit  musing, 
and  let  the  mother  begin  to  tell  some  interesting 
story,  and  she  does  not  need  to  say  to  the  child, 
"Now,  listen!"  It  will  listen  in  spite  of  itself. 
If  you  sigh  in  the  presence  of  another  man,  he  will 
be  likely  to  sigh  too.  If  you  sing,  he  will  feel  a 
desire  to  sing.  If  you  reason,  he  will  think  reason. 
If  you  laugh,  he  will  smile.  If  you  cry,  the  shallow 
falls  on  him.  Vou  reflect  your  mood  on  those  who 
are  round  about  you.  And  God's  mind  has  power 
upon  the  minds  of  those  who  are  in  communion  with 
Him.  If  the  heart  be  open,  and  the  moral  nature  be 
sensitive,  God  acts  upon  the  thought  and  feeling,  so 
that  you  aie  guided  by  Him.  And  I  fain  would 
believe  that  there  is  a  loving  Christ  who  dwells  in 
me,  and  takes  care  of  all  the  conditions  that  affect 
me,  and  tills  me  with  a  Divine  stimulus  and  influence. 

— Beecher. 

4.  How  He  manifests  Himself  to  tbe  soul. 

(974.)  Since  God  is  everywhere,  in  what  sacred 
and  peculiar  sense  is  He  present  to  the  believing 
heart?  "Lord,  how  is  it  that  Thou  dost  manifest 
Thyself  to  us,  as  Thou  dost  not  unto  the  world?" 
The  principle  on  which  He  does  so  is  illustrated 
by  some  of  the  common  facts  of  life.  A  man  is 
present  to  his  friend,  as  he  is  not  to  a  stranger, 
though  he  may  be  at  the  same  moment  speaking  to 
both.  The  light  which  floods  the  landscape  with  a 
deluge  of  beauty  is  present  to  him  who  sees  it,  as 
it  is  not  to  the  blind  man  walking  at  his  side. 
Music,  though  it  may  ripple  round  the  deafened 
ear,  is  only  present  to  him  who  hears  it.  The  dis- 
course of  the  naturalist  on  his  experiments,  of  the 
scholar  on  his  books,  of  the  mathematician  who  is 
talking  with  raptures  en  the  beauties  of  a  theorem, 
will  bring  things  into  the  presence  of  initiated 
listeners,  which  are  still  remote  from  the  minds  of 
those  in  the  very  same  comj^any  who  have  no  sym- 
pathy with  the  theme.  So,  "two  women  may  be 
grinding  at  a  mill;"  "two  men  may  be  in  the 
held  ; "  one  a  believer,  the  other  an  unbeliever ; 
and  although  the  Great  Spirit  is  near  to  them  both, 
there  is  a  sense  in  which  He  is  present  to  the  one 
as  He  is  not  to  the  other  ;  for,  in  the  case  of  the 
believer,  the  causes  of  estrangement  have  been  taken 
away,  a  new  relation  exists,  a  new  life  has  been  born 


CHRIST. 


(    172    ) 


CHRIST. 


and  God  is  present  as  a  Friend,  whose  love  has  been 
accepted,  and  whose  conversation  is  understood  with 
all  the  intelligence  of  a  kindred  nature. 

— Stanford. 

(975.)  I  have  received  a  letter  from  a  lady  who 
■ome  time  ago  came  to  me  with  reference  to  her 
religious  feelings.  She  writes  of  the  benefit  that  she 
has  derived,  and  the  great  happiness  that  she  has 
experienced  ;  and  then  she  propounds  the  question  : 
"How  shall  1  be  able  to  continue  the  consciousness 
of  Christ's  presence  with  me?"  She  avers  that  at 
times  she  has  had  great  joy,  and  that  she  has  now 
an  abiding  faith,  which  is  the  fountain  of  life  to  her  ; 
and  she  asks  :  "Mow  shall  the  intermittent  periods 
be  shortened  ?  How  shall  I  have  a  continued  sense 
of  the  presence  and  power  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  ?  " 

As  our  Master  promised  that  He  and  His  Father 
would  come  to  His  disciples,  and  abide  with  them, 
this  inquiry  is  a  legitimate  one  ;  but  the  first  step 
toward  a  practical  solution  of  it  is,  to  inquire  how 
far  one  may  live  under  the  dominion  of  any  feeling — 
for  1  bear  in  mind  that  our  senses  have  no  relation 
to  this  matter.  It  is  a  question  of  the  exercise  of 
our  reason  and  imagination — such  an  exercise  of 
them  as  is  styled,  in  the  Word  of  God,  faith,  or  the 
realisation  of  an  invisible  presence  or  truth.  And 
the  question  arises,  first,  I  low  far  is  it  possible  for 
the  human  mind  to  live  in  that  state  continuously  ? 
When  it  is  said  that  a  person  is  always  conscious  of 
the  presence  of  Christ,  what  is  the  meaning,  the 
scope,  and  the  power  of  that  word  ahvays  ?  Does 
it  mean  every  hour?  Does  it  mean  every  half- 
hour?  Does  it  mean  every  quarter  of  an  hour? 
Does  it  mean  every  period  of  five  minutes?  Does 
it  mean  every  minute  ?  Does  it  mean  every  second  ? 
Manifestly  not. 

Let  us  take  some  of  the  most  undoubted  experi- 
ences. We  will  take,  for  instance,  the  experience 
of  a  mother's  love  for  her  child,  which  1  suppose  is 
as  vivid  and  continuous  as  any  affection.  Would 
you  say  that  there  is  not  a  moment  of  the  day  in 
which  the  mother  does  not  think  of  the  cnild  ?  It 
tnay  be  that,  when  it  is  an  infant  in  her  hands,  its 
physical  wants  may  demand  her  attention  every 
moment  :  but  let  the  child  be  two  or  three  years  old, 
and  competent  to  run  hither  and  thither,  and  take 
some  care  of  itself,  and  may  there  not  be  times  when 
the  mother,  especially  if  it  devolves  upon  her  to  do 
the  work  of  the  household,  will  be  thinking  of  how 
to  provide  for  the  child  its  food  or  its  raiment,  and 
of  other  family  duties?  Is  not  maternal  love,  which 
is  the  most  nearly  continuous  of  any  feeling,  an  inter- 
mitleni  feeling?  Is  it  not  one  that  comes  and  goes? 
Is  it  not  one  that,  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
passes  out  of  the  mind  and  comes  back  again  many 
and  many  a  time  in  a  single  day,  although  the  object 
of  it  is  present  all  the  time? 

There  was  formerly,  at  the  lower  end  of  New  York 
City,  looking  out  on  the  Bay,  a  revolving  light ;  and 
I  used  to  stand  on  Brooklyn  Heights  and  watch  it, 
to  see  the  different  colours  come  and  go.  There  was 
first  a  red  light  ;  then  that  would  go  away,  and  a 
•  white  light  would  appear ;  and  then  that  would 
pass  out  of  sight,  and  a  dimmer  side  would  come 
round. 
'  It  is  very  much  so  with  a  mother's  affection.  And 
there  is  no  feeling  in  the  world  that  ever  was  con- 
tinuous, or  that  ever  will  be,  unless  the  persoi)  who 
has  it  is  insane.     Physicians  will  tell  you  tu«»t  when 


your  child  has  any  feeling  on  which  its  mind  dwells 
continually,  it  is  in  a  morbid  condition.  Prolonged 
feeling  is  a  sign  of  mania.  The  law  of  healthful 
feeling  is  one  that  demands  change.  The  mind  19 
multiform.  It  is  subject  to  many  feelings.  One 
comes,  and  subsides  ;  then  a  third  comes  and  takes 
its  place,  and  subsides  ;  and  so  on.  Thus  feelings 
act  and  intermit.  And  as  this  is  the  case  in  out 
daily  experience  of  affection  towards  those  that  are 
with  us  and  can  minister  the  knowledge  of  their 
presence  througli  our  senses  ;  so,  much  more  is  it 
the  case  with  our  daily  experience  of  affection  toward 
any  being  that  is  invisible.  As,  where  a  child  or  a 
dear  friend  is  in  a  distant  land,  there  may  be  many 
hours,  and  even  days,  when  that  child  or  friend  is 
absent  from  your  apprehension ;  so,  much  more, 
where  our  apjjroach  to  God,  or  Christ,  or  tlie  in- 
visible Spirit,  is  rather  through  the  mediation  of 
duties  and  acts  than  by  direct  thought,  the  Divine 
Being  is  likely  to  be  absent  from  our  thought. 

My  first  reply,  then,  to  the  question,  "How  shall 
I  maintain  the  conscious  presence  of  Christ  with  me 
all  the  time  ? "  is  this  :  There  is  no  such  thing, 
literally,  as  that.  You  may  maintain  such  a  sense 
of  Christ  as  shall  diffuse  an  influence  through  the 
heart  all  day  long,  acting  as  the  most  vivid  earthly 
affections  do  ;  but  the  most  vivid  earthly  affections, 
according  to  the  law  of  the  mind,  are  alternative, 
and  not  unintermitting.  — Beecher, 

XXXVII.  THE  COMPLETENESS  OP  HIS 
LIFE. 

(976.)  How  few  can  say  at  death  that  they  have 
finished  their  work  ?  Indeed,  no  one  in  human 
nature  ever  could  say  that  but  Jesus.  The  emblem 
of  every  life  may  well  be,  in  one  aspect  of  it  at 
least,  a  broken  pillar.  The  historian  dies  leaving 
a  volume  half  ready  for  the  press  ;  the  novelist  lays 
down  the  pen  in  the  midst  of  his  tale ;  the  states- 
man quits  the  senate  with  his  work  only  half  done. 
Thus  each  man's  life  is  a  fragment,  and  he  is  cut 
off  like  a  bird  shot  in  the  middle  of  its  flight,  or 
a  lark  brought  down  in  the  middle  of  its  song. 
But  Christ's  work  was  all  done.  Everything  He 
had  planned  He  had  performed.  He  had  filled 
fully  the  whole  programme  which  He  had  made  out 
for  Himself  at  the  beginning,  and  having  left  nothing 
unperformed,  He  yielded  up  the  ghost. 

XXXVIII,  HIS  SUPERIORITY  TO  ALL  OTHER 
TEACHERS. 

(977')  Go  to  your  natural  religion.  Lay  before 
her  Mahomet  and  his  disciples  arrayed  in  armour 
and  in  blood,  riding  in  triumph  over  the  thousands 
and  tens  of  thousands  who  fell  by  his  victorious 
sword.  Show  her  the  cities  which  he  set  in  flames 
the  countries  which  he  ravaged  and  destroyed,  and 
the  miserable  distress  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth.  When  she  has  viewed  him  in  this  scene, 
carry  her  into  his  retirements.  Show  her  the 
prophet's  chambers,  his  concubines  and  wives.  Let 
her  see  his  adultery,  and  hear  him  allege  revelation 
and  his  Divine  commission  to  justify  his  lust  and 
oppression.  When  she  is  tired  with  this  prospect, 
then  show  her  the  blessed  Jesus  humble  and  meek, 
doing  good  to  all  the  sons  of  men,  patiently  instruct- 
ing both  the  ignorant  and  the  perverse.  Let  her 
see  Him  in  His  most  retired  privacies ;  let  her 
follow  Him  to  the  Mount,  and  hear  His  devotions 
and  supplications  to  God.     Carry  her  to  His  table 


CHRIST. 


(    173    ) 


CHRIST. 


to  view  His  poor  fare  and  hear  His  heavenly  dis- 
course. Let  her  see  Mini  injured,  but  not  provoked. 
Let  her  attend  llim  to  the  tribunal,  and  consider 
tlie  patience  with  which  He  endureth  the  scoffs  and 
reproaciies  of  His  enemies.  Lead  her  to  His  cross, 
and  let  her  view  Him  in  the  agony  of  death,  and 
hear  His  last  prayer  for  His  persecutors,  Father, 
foii^ive  them ;  Jor  they  knoiv  tiot  ivhat  they  do  I 
When  natural  religion  has  viewed  both,  ask, 
"  Which  is  the  prophet  of  God  ?"  But  her  answer 
wc  have  alreaily  had,  when  she  saw  part  of  this  scene 
through  the  eye  of  the  centurion  who  attended  at 
the  cross  ;  by  him  she  spake  and  said,  "  Truly  this 
man  was  the  Son  of  Uod"  — Shei'lock,  1641-1707. 

(978.)  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  worthy  to  be  the 
perpetual  text  of  all  preaching,  the  perpetual  theme 
01  all  religionists,  and  the  perpetual  object  of  devout 
studentship.  The  same  can  be  said  of  no  other 
man  that  ever  lived,  no  matter  wiiat  was  the  extent 
of  hi?  genius,  the  order  of  his  talents,  or  the  fashion 
of  their  exercise.  Plato  is  not  the  constant  theme 
of  philosophy,  for  tiiere  has  been  and  are  other 
philosophers  that  divide  with  him  the  honours. 
Aristotle  is  not  the  sole  representative  of  logic,  for 
there  have  been  and  are  logicians  that  stand  his 
peer.  Napoleon  does  not  monopolise  the  admiration 
of  those  that  study  the  art  of  war,  for  there  have 
been,  and  perhaj^s  there  are  nosv,  other  military 
chiefiains  whose  achievements  are  of  so  high  an 
order  that  they  command  the  admiration  of  all 
military  men.  And  so  in  whatever  sphere  we  find 
the  great  representative  men  of  the  world,  we  find 
that  no  one  has  been  or  is  great  enough  to  mono- 
polise opinion  and  command  universal  homage. 
Whether  you  look  at  philosophy,  poetry,  music, 
science,  art,  or  religion,  you  fiad  that  however  great 
any  actor  has  been,  there  have  been  other  actors, 
both  before  and  after,  that  ilivided  fame  with  him, 
and  had  a  common  share  in  the  applause  and  the 
remembrance  of  men.  Only  in  respect  to  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  can  it  be  said  that  one  man  had  all,  and 
was  all,  that  one  in  his  order  could  have  and  be. 
As  a  religionist,  as  a  religious  teacher, — teaching  in 
the  twolold  method  of  example  and  instruction 
both, — Jesus  was  so  opulent  in  gifts,  so  remarkable 
in  manner  and  method,  so  magnificent  in  every 
class  of  equipment  demanded  by  His  mission,  that 
He  represented  and  represents  all  there  was  and  all 
there  is  to  be  represented  to  the  devout  attention 
of  mankind. 

As  the  sun  in  summer  fills  the  whole  realm  of 
Nature,  flooding  the  wurld  from  pole  to  pole  with 
huninance,  so  lie  filled  the  realm  in  which  He 
moved,  so  that  bcivVeen  its  either  pole  there  was  at 
no  point  lack  of  radiance.  And  this  is  admitted  by 
all.  The  world — or  that  portion  of  it  that  has 
knowledge  of  Him — whose  thought  is  intelligent 
enough  to  apprehend  llim,  whose  every  heart  is 
pure  enough  and  sensitive  enough  to  appreciate 
llim,  gives  by  its  universal  suffrage  pre-eminence 
to  His  name.  There  were  wise  men  before  He  was 
born;  and  His  highest  eulogy  is  found  in  the  fact 
that  they  were  only  wise  enough  to  have  visions  and 
dreams  of  His  coming.  1  hev  were  as  a  hill  whose 
fame  in  the  neighbourhood  is,  that  from  its  top  the 
residents  of  the  hamlet  can  sec  the  earliest  signs  of 
the  morning.  The  world  acknowledges  their  lame 
because  it  perceives  that  from  the  summit  of  their 
teaching  it  was  enabled  to  catch  the  first'  glimpse  of 
His  rising.    The  fame  of  the  old  prophets  and  seers. 


of  the  far-seeing  men  of  the  olden  time,  is  that  they 
foretold  His  advent.  There  have  been  wise  men 
since  He  lived  on  the  earth  ;  but  their  wisdom  is 
acknowledged,  not  in  the  fact  that  they  were  wise 
enough  to  add  anything  to  His  teaching,  but  wise 
in  apprehending  the  meaning  of  His  teaching  ;  apt 
in  its  explanation  and  powerful  in  its  enforcement. 
The  great  men  of  the  Church  to-day  are  great  be- 
cause they  can  do  this.  They  are  great  because 
they  cun  catch  the  line  of  His  thought,  explain  it, 
enforce  it.  And  in  this  only  are  they  great.  With- 
out Him  they  could  do  nothing  ;  without  Him  they 
would  be  nothing.  They  are  reflectors  — polished 
surfaces — placed  at  such  an  angle  that  they  can  take 
of  the  beams  poured  down  upon  them  fron»  the 
great  luminary  over  their  heads,  and  send,  in 
sliowers  and  glances,  the  radiance  thus  borrowed 
horizontally  over  the  world.  — Murray. 

XXXIX.  THE  ULTIMATE  TRIUMPHS  OF 
HIS  KINGDOM. 

(979.)  The  Scriptures  give  us  to  expect  that  the 
earth  itself,  as  well  as  iis  redeemed  inhabitants,- 
shall  at  a  future  period  be  purified,  and  reunited  to 
the  whole  empire  of  God.  We  are  taught  to  pray, 
and  consequently  to  hope,  that,  when  "the  kingdom 
of  God  "  sliall  universally  prevail,  "  His  will  shall 
be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  now  in  heaven  ;"  but  if 
so,  earth  itself  must  become,  as  it  were,  a  part  of 
heaven. 

'i'hat  we  may  form  a  clear  and  comprehensive 
view  of  our  Lord's  words,  and  of  this  part  of  the 
subject,  be  it  observed  that  the  Scriptures  some- 
times distinguish  between  the  kingdom  of  God  and 
that  of  Christ.  Though  the  object  of  both  be  the 
triumph  of  truth  and  righteousness,  yet  the  mode  of 
administration  is  different.  The  one  is  natural,  the 
other  delegated  :  the  latter  is  in  subserviency  to  the 
former,  and  shall  be  finally  succeeded  by  it.  Christ 
is  represented  as  acting  in  our  world  by  delegation  : 
as  if  a  king  had  commissioned  his  son  to  go  and 
reduce  a  certain  rebellious  province,  and  restore  it 
to  his  dominion.  The  period  allotted  for  this  work 
extends  from  the  time  of  the  revelation  of  the 
promised  seed  to  the  day  of  judgment.  The  opera- 
tions are  progressive.  If  it  had  seemed  good  in 
His  sight.  He  could  have  overturned  the  power  of 
Satan  in  a  short  period  ;  but  His  wisdom  saw  fit  to 
accomplish  it  by  degrees.  Like  the  commander  of 
an  invading  army.  He  first  takfs  possession  of  one 
post,  then  of  another,  then  of  a  third,  aad  so  on, 
till  by  and  by  the  whole  country  falls  into  His  hands. 
And  as  the  progress  of  a  conqueror  would  be  more 
rapid  after  a  few  of  the  strongest  fortresses  had 
surrendered  (inasmuch  as  things  would  then  ap- 
proach fast  to  a  crisis,  to  a  breaking  up,  as  it  weie, 
of  the  powers  of  the  enemy),  so  it  has  been  v\ith 
the  kingdom  of  Christ,  and  such  will  be  its  progress 
before  the  end  of  time.  In  the  early  ages  of  the 
world  but  little  was  done.  At  one  time  true  religion 
appears  to  have  existed  only  in  a  few  families. 
Alterwards  it  assumed  a  national  appearance. 
Alter  this  it  was  addressed  to  all  nations.  And 
before  the  close  of  time  all  nations  shall  be  sub- 
jected to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  This  shall  be 
the  "breaking  up"  of  Satan's  empire.  Now,  as 
on  the  conquest  of  a  rebellious  ptovince,  the  dele- 
gated authority  ot  the  conqueror  would  cease,  and 
the  natural  government  of  the  empire  resume  iu» 
original  form,  so  Christ  is  represented  as  "deliver- 


CHRIST. 


(     t74    ) 


CHRIST. 


ing  up  the  kingdom  to  His  Father,  that  God  may 
be  all  in  all."  This  is  the  ulliniatum  of  tiie 
Messiah's  kinqilom  ;  and  this  appears  to  be  the 
ultimate  object  for  which  He  taught  His  disciples 
to  pray  :  but  as  the  final  end  involves  the  preceding 
gradations  which  lead  on  to  its  accomplislinient,  in 
directing  them  to  pray  for  the  coming  of  God  s 
kingdom,  He  directed  them  to  pray  for  the  present 
prevalence  of  His  own. 

As  on  the  conquest  of  a  rebellious  province  some 
would  be  pardoned,  and  others  punished  ;  as  every 
vestige  ^{  rebellion  would  be  effaced,  and  law, 
peace,  and  order  flow  in  their  ancient  channels  ; 
such  a  period  migiit  with  propriety  be  termed  "a 
restitution  of  all  things."  Such  will  be  the  event 
of  the  last  juilgment,  which  is  described  as  the 
concluding  exercise  of  the  delegated  authority  of 
Christ. 

And  as  on  the  conquest  of  a  rebellious  province, 
ind  the  restitution  of  i)eace  and  order,  that  province, 
instead  of  being  any  longer  separate  from  the  rest 
of  the  empire,  would  become  a  component  part  of 
it,  and  the  king's  will  would  be  done  in  it  as  it  had 
been  done  without  interruption  in  the  loyal  part  of 
his  territories  ;  such  is  the  representation  given  with 
respect  to  our  world,  and  the  holy  parts  of  God's 
dominions.  A  period  wi'l  arrive  when  the  will  of 
(jod  shall  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  now  done  in 
heaven.  This,  however,  will  never  be  the  case 
while  any  vestige  of  moral  evil  remains.  It  must 
be  after  the  general  conflagration  ;  which,  though 
it  will  destroy  every  kind  ol  evil,  root  and  branch, 
that  now  prevails  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  and 
will  terminate  the  generations  of  Adam,  who  have 
possessed  it,  yet  will  not  so  destroy  the  earth  itself 
but  that  it  shall  survive  its  fiery  trial,  and,  as  I 
apprehend,  become  the  everlasting  abode  of  right- 
eousness— a  part  of  the  holy  empire  of  God,  This 
was  to  be  the  mark  on  which  the  disciples  were  to 
keep  their  eye  in  all  their  prayers  :  but  as,  in  desir- 
ing a  perfect  conformity  to  Christ  in  their  own 
souls,  they  would  necessarily  desire  the  present 
progress  of  purity  in  the  use  of  all  the  appointed 
means ;  so  in  praying  that  God's  will  might  be 
perfectly  done  on  earth,  even  as  it  is  done  in  heaven, 
tliey  would  pray  for  the  progressive  prevalence  of 
righteousness  in  the  world,  as  that  by  which  it 
should  be  accomplished. 

— Andrew  Fuller^  1754-1815. 

XL.    HIS  SECOND  COMING, 

(9S0.)  Meditate  of  Christ's  coming  to  judgment. 
Surely  thou  wilt  not  easily  sleep  while  this  trumpet, 
that  shall  call  all  mankind  to  judgment,  shall  sound 
in  thy  ear.  The  reason  why  men  sleep  so  soundly 
in  security  is,  because  tiiey  either  do  not  believe 
this,  or  at  least  do  not  think  of  it  seriously,  so  as 
to  expect  it.  The  servant  that  looks  for  his  master 
will  be  loth  to  be  found  in  bed  when  he  comes  ;  no, 
he  sits  up  to  open  the  door  for  him  when  he  knocks. 
Christ  hath  told  us  He  will  come,  but  not  when, 
that  we  might  never  put  off  our  clothes,  or  put  out 
the  candle  ;  "  Watch  therefore,  for  ye  know  not 
what  hour  the  Lord  doth  come." 

— Gurnall,  l6l 7-1677. 

(981.)  I  have  thought  on  it  many  a  time,  as  a 
small  emblem  of  that  day,  whetl  1  have  seen  a  pie- 
vailmg  army  driwing  towards  the  tX)wns  and  castles 
of  the  enemy.     Qh  1  with  what  glaa  hearts  do  all 


the  poor  prisoners  within  hear  the  news  and  behold 
their  approach  1  How  do  they  run  up  to  their 
prison  windows,  and  thence  behold  their  friends 
with  joy  !  How  glad  are  they  at  the  roaring  report 
of  that  cannon  which  is  the  enemy's  terror  !  How 
do  they  clap  each  other  on  the  back,  and  cry, 
"  Deliverance  !  deliverance  ! "  While,  in  the  mean- 
time, the  late  insulting,  scorning,  cruel  enemies 
begin  to  speak  them  fair,  and  beg  their  favour  ;  but 
all  in  vain,  for  they  are  not  at  the  disposal  of 
prisoners,  but  of  the  general.  Their  fair  usage  may 
make  their  conditions  somewhat  the  more  easy,  but 
yet  they  are  used  as  enemies  still, 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(9S2.)  This  great  event  is  constantly  represented 
in  the  New  Testament  as  near,  and  the  view  is 
natural  and  true.  Never  does  the  meeting  with  a 
beloved  friend  come  so  close  to  us  as  when  we  have 
just  parted  from  him.  Love  makes  the  tears  of 
farewells  sparkle  into  welcomes  ;  and  if  we  could 
only  retain  the  same  impression  of  Christ's  loss, 
His  return  would  be  as  nigh.  It  is  moreover  in  the 
New  Testament  the  great  event  which  towers  above 
every  other.  The  heaven  that  gives  back  Christ 
gives  back  all  we  have  loved  and  lost,  solves  all 
doubts,  and  ends  all  sorrows.  His  coming  looks 
in  upon  the  whole  life  of  His  Church,  as  a  lofty 
mountain  peak  looks  in  upon  every  little  valley  and 
sequestered  home  around  its  base,  and  belongs  to 
them  all  alike.  Every  generation  lies  under  the 
shadow  of  it,  for  whatever  is  transcendently  great 
is  constantly  near,  and  in  moments  of  high  con- 
viction it  absorbs  petty  interests  and  annihilates 
intervals.  — iKrr, 

XLI.    HIS  GLORY. 

1.  It  is  now  inconceivable  by  ua. 

(983.)  Any  view  of  Christ  which  the  greatest 
preacher  in  the  highest  flights  of  genius  ever  set 
before  his  audience,  mast  be  feeble  compared  with 
the  reality.  Paint  and  canvas  cannot  give  the  hues 
of  a  rainbow,  or  the  beams  of  the  sun — unless  by 
representations  so  poor  as  in  many  instances  to 
excite  contempt,  and  in  all  astonishment,  that  any 
artist  could  attempt  what  so  far  exceeds  the  powers 
of  cold,  dull  paint.  No  more  can  words  describe 
the  Saviour's  glory.  Nay,  what  is  the  most  glowing 
and  ecstatic  view  that  the  highest  faith  of  a  soul, 
hovering  on  the  borders  of  another  world,  ever 
obtained  of  Christ,  compared  to  the  reality?  It  is 
like  the  sun  changed  by  a  frosty  fog-bank  into  a 
dull,  red,  copper  ball — shorn  of  the  splendour  that 
no  mortal's  eyes  can  look  on.  — Gulkric 

2.  The  future  disclosures  of  It  tbat  await  us. 

(984.)  We  know  from  the  testimony  and  obser- 
vation of  multitudes,  that  there  are  those  who,  by 
faith,  walk  in  a  more  intimate  realisation  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  them  than  they  do  by  sight  of 
the  bodily  forms  round  about  them. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  to  be  a  disclosure  far  above 
this,  and  far  more  glorious  than  this.  We  are  to 
see  Christ  as  He  is.  That  intimates  that  we  see 
Him  now  as  we  imagine  Him  to  be.  We  see  Him 
now  by  our  illustrations  and  figures,  by  our  analogies 
and  hints  ;  but  the  day  is  coming  when  we  snail 
iee  Ilim  as  He  is.  All  these  little  sketches  will  be 
tilled  up  and  oulmeasuicd.  The  dim  jxjinls  of  light 
which  give  glory  now  will  be  like  twinkling  stais^ 


CHRISTIAN,  THE 


(    >75    ) 


CHRISTIAN.  THE 


«nd  the  thing  itself  will  be  like  the  sun  in  the 
morning.  The  whole  heaven  will  be  full  of  Christ 
— beautiful  as  He  is,  and  fruitful  as  He  is,  in  all 
joy  and  peace.  There  is  to  be  a  disclosure,  com- 
pared with  which  the  disclosures  of  this  world  will 
be  as  twilight  compared  to  mid-day.      — Beecher. 

XLII.  HIS  DELIVERANCE  OF  THE  KING- 
DOM TO  THE  FA  THER. 

(985.)  No  one  ever  seems  to  have  had  so  grand 
md  magnificent  a  sense  of  the  final  outcome  of 
God's  moral  government  over  this  world  as  the 
Apostle  Paul  "Then  cometh  the  end,  when  He 
shall  have  delivered  up  the  kingdom  to  God,  even 
the  Father  ;  when  He  shall  have  put  down  all  rule, 
and  all  authority  and  power.  For  He  must  reign, 
till  lie  hath  put  all  enemies  under  His  feet.  The 
last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed  is  death.  For 
He  hath  put  all  things  under  His  feet.  But  when 
He  saith  all  things  are  put  under  Him,  it  is  manifest 
that  He  is  excepted  which  did  put  all  things  under 
Him.  And  when  all  things  shall  be  subdued  unto 
Him,  then  shalj  the  Son  also  Himself  be  subject 
unto  Him  that  put  all  things  under  Him,  that  God 
may  be  all  in  all."  Who  can  give  an  interpretation 
of  that  ?  He  that  dare,  let  him  do  it  ;  but  not  I. 
I  should  as  soon  think  of  setting  a  mouse  at  survey- 
ing the  chain  of  the  Andes,  and  making  a  typo- 
graphical report,  as  to  take  this  magnificent  vision 
of  the  consummation  of  God's  mediatorial  govern- 
ment in  the  universe,  including  this  world,  and 
what  others  we  know  not,  and  undertake,  without 
experience,  and  without  anything  else  but  the 
blazonry  of  these  grand  figures,  to  give  any  precise 
idea  of  what  it  was — only  this  :  that  after  a  cam- 
paign, magnificently  planned  and  nobly  conducted, 
the  general  comes  back  to  his  king,  and  having 
defeated  everything  in  the  field,  and  having  subdued 
all  the  provinces,  and  holding  in  his  hands  the  keys 
of  the  cities,  lays  them  at  his  king's  feet,  and  then 
takes  his  place  near  by  his  seat.  That  is  the  figure. 
So,  when  the  vast  work  of  God  on  earth  and  in 
heaven  shall  have  been  done,  in  the  far  and  grand 
future,  Christ  shall  come  back,  and  shall  lay  before 
God  the  tokens  of  universal  victory,  and  God  shall 
be  all  and  in  all.  Whether  it  shall  be  by  the 
resumption  of  the  Son,  or  whether  by  some  co- 
equality,  or  some  other  steps,  no  man  knows,  and 
no  man  need  try  to  know.  Sufficient  it  is,  that  it 
shall  be  a  scene  of  unequalled  grandeur  and  glory. 

— Beecker. 


CHRISTIAN,  THE. 

I.  CAN  A  MAN  KNOW  THAT  HE  IS  A 
CHRISTIANl* 

(986.)  h  good  man  may  be  in  such  a  temptation, 
that  he  shall  not  be  able  to  see  the  lifting  up  of  his 
own  hand  in  prater.  Sometimes  it  is  so  with  him, 
that  he  cannot  n-ad  his  own  graces,  nor  see  them. 
Though  the  fish  lie  playing  upon  the  water,  and 
you  may  see  them  in  a  fair  sunshine,  yet  in  a  storm, 
or  night,  ye  see  them  not,  though  they  be  in  the 
pond  or  rivei  still.  So  here — Though  when  the 
light  of  God's  countenance  doth  shine  upon  the 
soul,  Ve  is  then  able  to  see  his  own  graces ;  yet  if 
it  be  a  storm,  or  the  night  of  temptation,  he  cannot 

*  See  Adoption,  Asturane*. 


see  them — Why  ?  not  because  they  are  not  in  his 
heart  and  life  as  before,  but  because  he  is  in  the 
dark.  — Bridges,  1600- 1670. 

(987.)  The  evidences  of  a  man's  Christianity  (if 
he  is  a  Christian)  are  not  so  difficult  and  serious  a 
matter  as  men  think.  Why,  any  one  who  has 
sense  sufficient  to  judge  whether  he  is  a  good  citizen 
or  not,  or  whether  he  is  the  affectionate  son  of  his 
own  parents,  can  tell  whether  he  is  a  child  of  God. 
"  If  ye  love  me,  ye  will  keep  my  commandments." 
"Ah  !"  you  sigh,  "  but  I  don't  always  keep  them." 
Well,  ask  that  little  child  how  he  knows  that  he 
loves  his  parents ;  he  will  answer  you,  "  Because 
I  love  to  do  what  they  want  me  to  do."  "  Why, 
my  dear  child,  you  are  always  doing  what  they 
don't  want  you  to  do.  You  can't  prove  your  love 
to  them  by  that  rule."  The  poor  child  hangs  its 
head,  and  says,  "  I  don't  know  as,  I  can."  He 
cannot  answer  you.  You  ask  again,  "  My  child, 
how  do  you  know  that  you  love  your  parents?" 
"  Why,  why  I  do  love  to  please  them  better  than 
anything  else  in  the  world."  "Ah!  but  I  have 
just  shown  you  that  you  do  not  always  try  to  please 
them  ;  how  can  you  say  that  this  is  your  proof  of 
love  to  them?"  The  child  is  silenced  ;  but  in  his 
little  heart  he  knows  that  in  spite  of  his  disobedi- 
ence he  does  desire  to  do  his  parents'  will ;  and 
that  he  does  love  them,  whether  he  perfectly  obeys 
them  or  not.  He  thinks,  perhaps,  "  I  am  a  poor 
child,  a  hard  child  to  manage  ;  I  give  them  a  gieat 
deal  of  trouble,  but  I  love  them  ;  I  am  their  own 
child  after  all.  They  would  never  give  me  up  ;  and 
nothing  on  earth  could  take  me  from  them." 

Faith  is  the  life  of  a  child,  and  that  is  why  the 
Saviour  declares,  "  Except  ye  become  as  little 
children,  ye  shall  not  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
When,  therefore,  you  examine  yourself  by  the  rule 
of  obedience,  and  find  that  you  are  not  perfect  there, 
see  if  it  is  your  greatest  desire  to  honour  Christ  by 
keeping  His  commandments,  and  if  you  are  trying 
to  do  so,  and  if  it  is  the  grief  and  pain  of  your  life 
that  you  fail  as  you  do.  If  you  wish,  more  than 
anything  else,  to  be  His,  if  you  yearn  to  have  Him 
for  your  Friend,  if  you  feel  that  you  f/itist  and  will 
belong  to  Him  or  to  nobody,  you  need  no  more 
remarkable  "witness."  If  you  were  not  His  before, 
you  are  so  now ;  so  enjoy  Him  afresh — 'tis  rweet 
making  love  again.  — Beecker. 

(988.)  Suppose  one  of  the  sheep  in  a  fold  were 
to  go  to  the  shepherd,  and  say,  "  I  think  I'm  your 
sheep,  because  you  get  six  pounds  of  wool  off  me  ;  " 
and  another  should  say,  "And  I  think  I'm  youi 
sheep,  because  you  get  four  pounds  of  wool  from 
me  ;"  and  a  third,  "  I  hope  I  am  your  sheep,  but 
I  don't  know,  for  you  only  get  three  pounds  of 
wool  from  me;  and  sometimes  it  is  but  two." 
Finally,  suppose  one  poor  scraggy  fellow  comes 
who  don't  know  whether  he  is  a  sheep  or  a  goat, 
and  makes  his  complaint  ;  the  shepherd  would  say, 
"  I  know  who  are  the  best  sheep,  and  who  are  the 
worst.  I  wish  you  could  all  give  me  ten  pounds 
of  wool ;  but  whether  you  give  me  ten  pounds  or 
one,  you  are  all  mine.  I  bought  you,  and  paid  for 
you,  and  you  are  all  in  my  fold,  and  you  every  one 
belong  to  me."  It  is  not  how  much  a  sheep  brings 
his  owner  which  proves  him  his.  The  proof  that 
the  sheep  belongs  to  the  shepherd  is,  that  the 
shepherd  bought  him  and  takes  care  of  him. 

— Beecher, 


CHRISTTAN.  THE 


(    176    ) 


CHRISTIAN.  THE 


(980.)  He  that  's  endeavouring  to  keep  the  com- 
mandments  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  has  an 
intelligent  Ainderstanding  of  what  those  command- 
ments are,  is  a  Christian. 

What  makes  a  man  a  husbandman?  A  man 
buys  a  piece  of  ground  in  the  country.  It  is  rocky, 
and  a  great  deal  given  to  weeds,  eminently  fertile 
in  Canada  thistles.  There  is  on  it  an  old  run-down 
barn  full  of  rats  and  mice,  and  all  sorts  of  vermin  ; 
and  a  dilapidated,  tenantless  house.  The  man  goes 
on  to  his  place,  and  lives  in  this  miserable  house,  and 
has  the  rheumatism  and  all  manner  of  complaints, 
and  never  ploughs  a  furrow,  nor  sows  a  seed,  nor 
eradicates  a  weed.  He  crawls  out  of  his  rickety, 
leaky  shanty  every  morning,  and  walks  round,  and 
looks  over  liis  rocky,  thorny,  thistley  farm,  that  is 
run  down  and  good  for  nothing,  and  brings  forth 
only  vicious  weeds  ;  and  he  says,  "  I  am  a  husband- 
man." 1  say  that  he  is  not.  He  owns  twenty 
acres  of  dirt;  and  rocks,  and  weeds,  but  he  is  no 
husbandman. 

Take  another  man.  He  has  made  a  poor  selec- 
tion of  land.  He  has  a  cold,  clayey  soil,  full  of 
springs,  and  poorly  drained.  As  it  slopes  to  the 
north,  the  sun  does  not  strike  it  till  the  latest  part 
of  the  day.  He  plants  a  few  things,  and  works 
hard  to  cultivate  them,  but  they  do  not  come  to 
much.  Eveiy  spring  he  puts  in  some  potatoes,  but 
he  gets  out  only  about  as  many  as  he  puts  in.  He 
raises  a  little  grass  and  grain,  but  it  takes  all  his 
time  to  raise  a  little.  He  has  no  capital,  and  he 
makes  no  headway.  And  yet,  I  declare  that  that 
man  is  a  husbandman.  He  is  a  very  poor  one,  to 
be  sure  ;  but  he  is  trying  to  be  a  good  one.  Ac- 
cording to  the  soil  he  has,  and  the  strength  he  has, 
he  does  very  well.  He  has  but  one  talent,  and  the 
Lord  will  require  of  him  only  according  to  that  one 
talent. 

Another  man  has  a  rather  better  slope  to  the 
south,  and  his  soil  is  warm  in  spots,  though  in 
other  spots  it  is  cold.  It  is  rocky,  and  on  the 
whole,  rather  poor.  There  is  a  patch  of  four  or 
live  acres  that  he  bestows  his  labour  upon.  This 
patch  is  the  garden  of  the  farm,  and  is  kept  in  a 
very  good  condition.  But  the  rest  of  the  land  is 
uncultivated.  His  fences  are  neglected,  and  he 
loses  some  of  his  crops  on  account  of  hs  negligence. 
Nevertheless  there  are  spots  on  his  farm  that  pro- 
duce well.  He  is  therefore  a  better  husbandman 
than  the  first  or  second  man  :  and  yet,  he  is  a  very 
imperfect  one.  He  cultivates  only  a  portion  of  his 
land.  He  does  not  subdue  it  all,  and  see  that  it  is 
secured  from  waste. 

Another  man  has  a  piece  of  ground  very  much 
like  that  of  the  man  last  mentioned  ;  but  he  has 
more  ingenuity,  he  is  more  thorough,  and  he  raises 
more  crops.  The  annual  product  of  iiis  farm  is 
twice  as  great.      He  is  a  better  husbandman. 

Another  man  is  in  advance  of  all  these.  He  is 
a  veiy  good  farmer.  He  is  getting  rich.  His  soil 
is  excellent,  he  tills  it  well,  and  he  has  heavy 
crops. 

Another  man  is  fairly  fat.  He  literally  rolls  in 
abundance.  He  tickles  the  ground,  and  it  laughs, 
and  yields  bountifully.  He  does  not  know  where 
to  put  his  crops.  He  is  a  jolly  old  farmer.  He 
has  enough  to  take  care  of  himself,  and  all  that 
depend  upon  him.  His  bounty  overflows,  and  all 
his  labours  are  blessed  by  it.  He  is  more  a 
husbandman  than  all  the  rest  that  I  have  named. 

And    yet    the   feeble,    broken' ■'own   man,    who 


really  tries  to  raise  a  crop,  but  cannot  on  account 
of  his  poverty  and  weakness,  is  a  husbandman, 
although  he  is  a  very  poor  one. 

Now  I  take  it  that  this  figure  of  husbandry, 
which  is  the  Lord's  figure,  may  be  fitly  applied  to 
Christians. 

That  man  who  begins  life  under  disadvantages 
of  disposition  and  of  early  training  can  make  a 
certain  fight.  It  will  be  a  feeble  fight  ;  but  it  will 
be  a  fight.  He  meets  with  discouragements  or 
every  hand,  and  he  sees  others  going  alieatl  of  him, 
and  he  is  conscious  of  his  imperfections  and  failures, 
and  he  says,  "  I  am  a  poor  Christian,  I  am  making 
but  little  headway ;  but  I  am  making  a  fight, 
though  it  is  a  feeble  fight."  He  is  making  a  very 
feeble  fight  ;  and  yet,  very  likely  he  will  stand  in 
the  last  day  higher  than  many  of  you  who  make 
a  better  one.  The  Lord  will  say,  "  It  is  required 
of  him  according  to  what  he  hath,  and  not  accord- 
ing to  what  he  hath  not." 

Another  man  has  a  better  disposition,  and  had 
a  better  early  training.  Though  he  has  some 
infelicities  of  disposition  and  some  bad  habits,  yet 
some  of  the  graces  were  natural  to  him.  He 
cultivates  parts  of  his  disposition,*  and  other  parts 
he  neglects.  On  the  whole,  he  is  in  the  Lord's 
husbandry.  He  is  better  than  the  other  man,  but 
is  not  very  good. 

Another  man  has  his  whole  nature  broken  up, 
and  under  some  sort  of  cultivation.  Every  part  of 
it  is  bearing  harvests — is  yiekling  spiritual  fruit  to 
the  glory  of  God.  He  is  a  better  Christian,  but  ht 
is  no  more  really  a  Christian  than  that  man  who  is 
endeavouring  under  less  favourable  circumstances 
to  live  Christianly. 

So  to  some  men  you  may  say,  almost  from  their 
birth,  "  You  are  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God." 
It  takes  but  a  little — only  a  step,  as  it  were — to 
bring  them  into  the  holy  precincts.  Others  have  to 
travel  a  great  while  before  they  get  into  the 
Celestial  City.  Much  depends  upon  the  diflerences 
of  organisations  and  variations  of  condition.  The 
thing  which  we  are  to  look  at,  therefore,  in  our- 
selves, is  not  so  much  "  Am  I  or  am  I  not  a  Chris- 
tian?" as  it  is,  "  Being  a  Christian,  and  endeavour- 
ing to  do  the  will  of  God,  at  what  point  am  I 
standing?  Am  I  really  attempting  to  subdue  my 
whole  nature  to  the  law  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  to  be  as  sweet,  as  meek,  as  gentle,  and  as 
fruit-bearing  in  love  as  my  Master,  and  to  be  one 
with  Him?"  — Beecher, 

IL    HIS  CALLING. 
All  Christians  are  called,  1.  To  be  saints. 

(990.)  We  are  apt  to  form  mistaken  notions  of 
God's  saints.  We  are  apt  to  think  of  them  as  if 
they  were  beings  of  a  different  order  from  ourselves, 
raised  above  the  level  of  human  infirmity.  And 
from  this  mistaken  notion  (lows  great  practical 
mischief.  Not  to  speak  of  the  manifold  evils  of 
saint  worship,  which  may  be  supposed  to  have 
passed  away  at  the  Reformation  (though  the  ten- 
dency to  it  is  always  alive  in  the  human  heart),  a 
wrong  estimate  of  saintliness  discourages  us  for  the 
pursuit  of  it,  as  seeming  to  put  it  entirely  out  of  our 
reach. 

This  wrong  estimate  comes  chiefly  from  our  con- 
sidering them  as  creatures  of  the  past,  not  mixed 
up  with  the  afiairs  and  troubles  of  life.  Whatever 
we  look  at  from  a  distance  is  beautiful  by  the  per« 


CHRISTIAN.    THE 


(    «77    ) 


CHRISTIAN.    THE 


spective.  It  is  so  in  bodily  sight.  A  country 
wliich  was  dull,  tame,  or  harsh,  when  it  lay 
immediately  around  us,  borrows  soft  and  mellow 
tints  from  the  atmosphere  as  we  recede  from  it ;  the 
blue  distance  conceals  its  plain  features.  It  is  so 
with  the  mental  retrospect,  wliich  we  call  memory. 
Memory  has  a  notorious  trick  of  dropping  or 
smoothing  over  disagreeables.  The  days  of  our 
childhood,  which  had  their  rubs,  and  their  tears, 
and  their  faults,  like  all  other  days,  seem  to  us 
always  beautiful  and  innocent  in  virtue  of  this  trick 
of  memory.  The  same  law  of  the  mind  operates 
to  throw  round  the  saints  a  false  and  an  imaginary 
lustre.  We  imagine  that  no  man  is  or  can  be  a 
saint  who  is  mixed  up  in  the  daily  intercourse  of 
society,  who  is  fighting  hand  to  hand  with  us  in  the 
battle  of  life.  Why  not  ?  What  one  sound  reason 
can  be  assigned  why  there  should  not  be  nowadays 
men  as  zealous,  as  devoted,  as  simple-minded  as 
the  Apostles  and  saints  of  the  primitive  Church  ? 

— Goulburn. 

2.  To  serve  God. 

(991.)  What  is  a  servant  ?  Is  he  one  who  spends 
liis  existence  in  raptures,  in  reveries,  or  in  the  con- 
templation of  his  own  emotional  life?  Is  he  one 
who  wastes  all  his  days  in  mere  sorrow  over  his 
master's  frowns,  or  mere  joy  at  the  thought  of  his 
master's  smiles?  Is  he  the  steward  who  leaves  his 
accounts  in  confusion,  the  porter  who  forsakes  his 
watch,  or  the  workman  who  sits  down  in  the  midst 
of  his  unfinished  work  to  indulge  in  dreamy  medita- 
tion on  his  own  ecstacies  or  agonies  or  apathies  ? 
Such,  with  some,  seems  to  be  the  perfect  standard 
of  a  Christian  ;  but  is  it  the  true  ideal  of  a  servant  ? 
Judged  by  the  laws  of  common  sense,  service  is  a 
practical,  not  a  sentimental  thing  ;  it  consists  in 
doing,  not  in  feeling ;  and  it  is  a  solemn  thought 
for  us  all,  especially  for  those  who  have  been  taught 
that  the  mere  experience  of  happy  or  sorrowful 
feeling  is  the  sum  of  all  religion —that  none  are 
seen  in  the  courts  of  heaven  but  servants — that  is, 
those  who  are  engaged  in  obedient  activity.  There, 
as  the  Lord's  Prayer  has  taught  us,  tlie  will  of  God 
is  done.  His  servants  do  it  perfectly,  because  they 
love  Him  perfectly.  It  is  in  the  very  essence  of 
love  to  labour.  It  never  can  be  still,  never  can  be 
useless,  never  can  contain  itself,  never  can  spare 
itself,  never  cease  to  spend  itself  for  the  object  to 
which  it  is  devoted.  — Stanford.  ■ 

8.  To  adorn  tlie  doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour. 

(992.)  Believers  are  earnestly  enjoined  in  Scrip- 
ture to  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour  by 
a  walk  and  conversation  becoming  the  Gospel. 
But  how?  it  may  be  asked.  There  are  some  tilings 
so  perfect  in  themselves  that  they  are  injured,  not 
improved,  by  any  touch  of  man.  Who  can  give  a 
purer  whiteness  to  the  lily,  or  gild  the  burni.shed 
gold,  or  make  more  lustrous  the  sparkling  diamond  ? 
We  cannot  improve  upon  nature  ;  we  cannot  adorn 
it  in  the  sense  of  making  it  more  perfect  ;  but  we 
can  explain  it,  we  can  make  use  of  it  for  spiritual 
imagery,  we  can  exhibit  it  in  new  lights,  and  display 
it  in  a  thousand  ways  before  unknown  ;  so  that  ip. 
the  exquisite  setting  of  the  poet's  verse,  it  may  shire 
with  even  more  than  its  native  charm.  And  in  the 
same  way  we  can  deal  with  the  doctrine  of  God  our 
Saviour.  We  cannot  improve  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 
It  is  all  perfect — all  complete — wanting  nothing. 
God  said  again  and  again  regarding  J  esus,  "  "'his 


is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased  ;* 
and  He  Himself,  looking  back  from  the  cross  upon 
the  whole  course  of  His  obedience  and  suffermg, 
said  with  His  dying  breath,  "  It  is  finished  ;"  in- 
dicating not  merely  the  completion  of  His  work, 
but  also  its  perfection.  It  is  so  exquisitely  fair  and 
proportioned,  that  it  stands  in  need  of  no  embellish- 
ment ;  it  is  marred  and  destroyed  in  its  nature  and 
effect  by  any  additions  that  man  may  make  to  it. 
But  though  we  cannot  improve  the  doctrine  of  our 
Saviour,  we  can  make  its  power  upon  our  own 
heart  and  life  visible  ;  we  can  explain  and  manifest 
it  to  others  with  such  illustration  and  enforcement 
as  may  be  in  our  power  ;  and  crown  it  with  tiae 
history  of  what  by  it  God  has  done  for  our  soul. 
We  are  to  clothe  the  spiritual  life  of  the  Gospel — 
the  precepts,  the  examples,  the  atoning  death,  the 
justifying  righteousness  of  Christ,  with  an  out- 
ward conduct  becoming  its  purity  and  dignity.  Wb 
are  to  embody  the  spiritualities  of  the  unseen  life  in 
forms  of  daily  life  and  conversation,  such  as  will 
worthily  represent  their  glory  and  grace.  A  beauti- 
ful character  impresses  itself  upon  die  very  features 
of  the  body,  so  that,  looking  upon  the  lines  of  the 
countenance,  we  ran  read  the  soul  vv  ithin,  and  are 
attracted  to  admire  and  love  it  ;  and  thus  should 
the  life  of  faith  within — the  reflex  loveliness  of 
Christ's  character  in  the  soul—  exhibit  itself  in  the 
homely  garb  of  our  outward  everyday  life ;  in  order 
that  those  who  cannot  see  the  seal  of  the  Spirit — 
the  inward  evidence  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  which 
no  man  knoweth  savir.g  he  that  receiveth  it — may 
see  its  outward  luminous  sign  in  a  living  epistle, 
known  and  read  of  all  men.  Every  Christian's  life 
should  be  like  the  opal,  exhibiting  its  pure  trans- 
parency, the  beautiful  hues  of  grace  ;  or  like  a  pri.sm, 
refracting  the  clear  bright  light  of  heaven  into  a 
seven-coloured  spectrum  of  honesty,  truthfulness, 
purity,  kindliness,  meekness,  heavenliness,  useful- 
ness. — Macmillan, 

4.  To  be  fruitful  In  all  good  works. 

(993.)  Look  where  you  will  in  God's  Book,  yon 
shall  never  find  any  lively  member  of  God's  Church 
compared  to  any  but  a  fruitful  tree — to  the  fruitfiU 
vine,  the  fat  olive,  the  seasonable  sapling  planted 
by  the  rivers  of  waters.  The  goodly  cedars,  strong 
elms,  fast-growing  willows,  sappy  sycamores,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  fruitless  trees  of  the  earth — i.e.^ 
all  fashionable  and  barren  professors  whatsoever — 
may  shoot  up  in  height,  spread  far,  show  fair,  but 
what  are  they  good  for?  They  may  be  fit  for  the 
forest,  the  ditches,  the  hedgerows  of  the  world  ;  not 
for  the  soil  of  God's  Israel.  That  is  a  place  for 
none  but  vines,  for  trees  of  righteousness,  fruitful 
trees  (lohn  xv.  5,  8).  — Hall,  1 574-1656. 

(994.)  If  herbs  watered  do  still  continue  dry,  we 
justly  say  they  are  dead  :  so,  likewise,  we  cannot 
avow  or  assure  ourselves  to  be  Christians,  watered 
with  the  Sjjirit  of  Christ,  so  long  as,  instead  of  bear- 
ing fruit  by  amendment  of  life,  we  continue  dry  and 
withered.  — Cawdiay,  1598-1664. 

(995.)  The  soul  that  has  the  life  and  the  love  of 
Christ  in  it  cannot  help  producing  fruit.  It  does  so, 
not  bv  an  outward  arbitrary  law,  but  by  the  sweet  in- 
ward vital  law  of  life  and  growth.  And  therefore  it  is 
that  the  free,  unconstrained  outpourings  of  the  heart 
in  a  godly  life — the  natural,  spontaneous,  piactical 
responses  of  the  love  of  believers  to  the  love  ol 

M 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


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CHRISTIAN.     THE 


C>jist — are  more  frequently  in  the  New  Testament 
called  fruits  than  works.  "  Let  my  beloved  come 
into  His  garden  and  eat  His  pleasant  fruits."  Fruit- 
fulness  is  the  peculiar  distinction  and  glory  of 
Christ's  disciples.  It  is  the  result  towards  which 
all  their  efforts  tend — the  ultimate  and  highest 
object  of  their  existence.  They  are  united  to  Christ, 
quickened  by  His  Spirit,  enjoy  all  the  means  and 
privileges  of  grace,  the  dew  of  Divine  love,  the 
sunshine  of  Divine  righteousness,  the  showers  and 
breezes  of  Divine  mercy,  in  order  that  they  may 
b.-ing  forth  fruit ;  and  that  more  and  more  abun- 
dantly. Nay,  the  husbandman  does  not  hesitate  to 
dig  about  them  and  prune  them  by  His  afflictive 
dispensations,  in  order  that  on  the  branches  which 
formerly  yielded  only  leaves  may  cluster  thickly  and 
heavily  the  peaceable  fruits  of  rigliteousness.  A 
barren  Christian  is  a  contradiction  in  terms  and 
anomaly  in  the  spiritual  vineyard.  Wherever 
there  is  life  it  must  go  on  and  on  growing  from  one 
stage  to  another ;  not  resting  at  any  one  point  of 
attainment,  but  advancing  until  it  has  covered 
every  branch  and  twig  with  fruit.  Fruitfulness  is 
a  necessity  of  its  nature,  without  which  it  must 
become  dwarfed  and  stunted — must  wither  and  die  ; 
An  indication  of  its  growing  perfection,  for  there  is 
no  plant  perfect  until  it  has  b.rought  forth  all  the 
fruit  it  can.  Faith  without  works  is  dead  ;  as  the 
blossom  that  has  become  abortive  and  forms  no 
fruit  fades  and  falls  off"  the  tree.  There  cannot  be 
a  worse  sign  of  a  vine  than  when  all  its  sap  is  ex- 
pended in  the  production  of  leaves  and  shoots,  and 
of  a  Christian  than  when  all  his  grace  evaporates  in 
words,  and  all  his  faith  in  profession.  Fruitfulness 
is  the  great  object  for  which  the  vine  is  cultivated  ; 
and  if  it  comes  short  of  this  the  graces  and  beauties  of 
its  foliage  will  not  be  regarded  as  a  compensation — it 
will  be  rooted  out  and  destroyed  ;  and  so  diligence  in 
adding  to  his  faith,  knowledge,  patience,  temperance, 
brotherly  kindness,  and  charity,  is  the  great  object 
for  which  the  Christian  is  planted  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord — rooted  in  the  love  of  Christ ;  and  if  he 
fails  of  accomplishing  this  purpose  of  his  existence, 
the  mere  form  of  godliness  will  not  atone  for  it,  or 
prevent  the  dread  sentence  going  forth,  "Cut  it 
down;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground?"  "Every 
branch  in  Ale  (that  is,  in  Christ,  not  by  a  real  and 
vital  union,  but  by  a  visible  and  professional  union, 
by  an  external  alliance  with  His  Church,  and  by  the 
use  of  His  ordinances)  that  beareth  not  fruit  He 
taketh  away  :  and  every  branch  that  beareth  fruit 
He  purgeth  it,  that  it  may  bring  forth  more  fruit. 
....  1  am  the  Vine,  ye  are  the  branches  :  he  that 
abideth  in  Me,  and  I  in  him,  the  same  ormgeth 
forth  much  fruit :  for  without  Me  ye  can  do 
nothing."  — Macmillan. 

6.  To  make  constant  progress  in  holiness. 

(996.)  The  life  of  believers,  after  conversion,  is 
an  active  life  :  none  of  them  can  say.  Now  I  have 
no  more  ado,  having  received  Christ  ;  I  may  walk 
at  random,  and  live  as  I  list ;  no,  by  no  means  : 
after  Israel  were  come  through  the  Red  Sea,  they 
had  a  wiklerness  to  walk  through  ;  and  so  it  is  with 
every  believer,  while  here  in  this  world  :  but 
though  he  hath  a  journey  to  go,  yet  he  hath  the 
greatest  encouragement  to  walk  forward  ;  for  he  is 
in  Christ,  in  whom  he  hath  all  fulness. 

— Erskine,  1685-1752. 

(997.)   The  purity  of  the  Christian  is  not  an 


evanishing,  but  a  permanent  purity.  All  the  reli- 
gion that  many  have  is  evanishing  an.l  superficial  | 
it  conies  and  goes  like  a  flash  of  lighming.  Trufe 
purity  is  constant,  it  continues  and  grows  ;  for,  "  He 
that  hath  clean  hands  shall  wax  stronger  and 
stronger."  The  righteous  holdeth  on  his  way,  like 
a  vessel  sailing  towards  such  a  port,  though  it  meets 
with  many  blasts  to  drive  it  hither  and  thither,  and 
sometimes  very  far  back  ;  yet  it  goes  on  again,  and 
makes  out  the  harbour  designed  :  so,  though  the 
believer  may  meet  with  blasts  of  temptation  and 
corruption,  that  may  set  him  far  back  ;  yet  he  holds 
on  his  way,  God  in  Christ  is  the  centre  of  rest  to 
which  he  moves  ;  yea,  he  hath  taken  up  his  rest  in 
Him,  and  there  he  resolves  to  stay  for  ever  :  he 
hath  chosen  God  in  Christ  for  his  portion,  and  he 
is  determined  to  abide  by  his  choice. 

— Erskiiie,  1685-1752. 
6.  To  be  like  Christ. 

(998.)  We  are  not,  saith  Austen,  to  be  like  Christ 
in  working  miracles,  but  in  a  holy  life.  A  Christian 
should  be  both  a  loadstone  and  a  diamond  :  a  load- 
stone, in  drawing  others  to  Christ;  a  diamond,  casting 
a  sparkling  lustre  of  holiness  in  his  life.  Oh  let  us  be 
so  just  in  our  dealings,  so  true  in  our  promises,  so 
devout  in  our  worship,  so  unblameable  in  our  lives, 
that  we  may  be  the  walking  pictures  of  Christ. 
Thus  as  Christ  was  made  in  our  likeness,  let  us 
labour  to  be  made  in  His  likeness. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

III.     THE  CHRISTIAN  AND  CHRIST. 

1.  His  union  with  Christ. 

(999.)  What  a  wonderful  mystery  is  this,  that 
believers  should  be  united  to,  and  made  one  with 
God,  as  the  feather  and  the  Son  are  one?  Not  m 
respect  of  partaking  of  His  essential  and  incommuni- 
cable properties,  which  creatures  are  incapable  of, 
but  in  respect  of  reality  and  truth  :  believers  are  as 
really  united  to  Christ,  as  the  branches  of  a  tree  are 
unto  the  root.  As  the  stock  and  the  graft  are  really 
joined  together,  and  are  one  withir  the  other,  and 
made  one  body,  so  are  believers  really  united  to 
God,  God  dwelling  in  them  and  they  in  God,  and 
are  made  one  spirit  with  Him  through  Christ.  He 
that  is  joined  to  the  Lord  is  one  spirit.  And  again, 
by  one  spirit  are  we  united,  &c.  — Austen,  1656. 

(locx).)  1  he  graft  and  stock  of  the  fruit-tree  are 
so  joined  together  as  that  they  are  the  one  within 
the  other,  and  so  made  one  entire  body  ;  the  graft 
is  within  the  stock  in  respect  of  its  substance  (the 
stock  encloseth  some  part  of  it).  And  the  stock  is 
within  the  graft,  by  its  sap  and  moisture  giving 
nourishment  to  it,  whereby  it  thrives  and  brings 
forth  good  fruits :  so  they  being  joined,  and  one 
within  the  other,  are  made  one  body  or  sub- 
stance. 

This  similitude  shadows  out  unto  us,  that  believers, 
by  ingrafting  into  Christ,  do  live  in  Him,  and  Ha 
in  them,  and  are  thereby  made  one  with  Him. 

— Austen,  1656. 

2.  His  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God. 

(looi.)  As  a  man,  standing  upon  the  sea-shore, 
sees  a  great  heap  of  waters,  one  wave  riding  on  the 
back  of  another,  and  hears,  too  (especially  if  it  be 
in  stormy  weather),  the  loud  roarings  thereof,  but 
all  this  while,  though  he  see  the  waters,  he  doth  not 
see  the  inlinite  riches  that  lie  buried  in  the  botton 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


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CHRISTIAN.     THE 


thereof:  so  it  is  that  wicked  men  see  the  want,  but 
not  the  wealth  of  God's  people — their  conflicts,  but 
not  their  comforts.  They  easily  take  notice  of  the 
troubles  that  usually  attend  upon  the  bodies  of  the 
children  of  God,  but  they  cannot  possibly  discover 
the  rejoicings  of  the  spirit  that  are  in  their  souls  ; 
neither  indeed  can  they,  for  they  are  spiritually 
discerned.  — Needier,  1655. 

(1002.)  Standing  by  the  telegraphic  wires,  one 
may  often  hear  the  mystic  wailing  and  sighing  of 
the  winds  among  them,  like  the  strains  of  an  /Eolian 
harp,  but  one  knows  nothing  of  the  mes-age  which 
is  flashing  along  them.  Joyous  may  be  the  inner 
language  of  those  wires,  swift  as  the  lightning,  far- 
reaching  and  full  of  meaning,  but  a  stranger  inter- 
meddles not  therewith.  Fit  emblem  of  the  believer's 
inner  life  ;  men  hear  our  notes  of  outward  sorrow, 
wrung  from  us  by  external  circumstances,  but  the 
message  of  celestial  peace,  the  divine  communings 
witli  a  better  land,  the  swift  heart-throbs  of  heaven- 
born  desire,  they  cannot  perceive  :  the  carnal  see 
but  the  outer  manhood,  but  the  life  hidden  with 
Christ  in  God,  flesh  and  blood  cannot  discern. 

— Spur^eon. 

8.  His  love  for  Christ, 

(IC03.)  There  is  a  ruling  passion  in  every  mind. 
When  they  were  probing  among  his  shattered  ribs 
for  the  fatal  bullet,  the  French  veteran  exclaimed, 
"A  little  deeper,  and  you  will  find  the  emperor." 
The  deepest  ahection  in  a  believing  soul  is  the  love 
of  its  Saviour.  Deeper  than  the  love  of  home,  of 
kindred,  of  rest  and  recreation,  of  life,  is  the  love  of 
Jesus.  And  so,  when  other  spells  have  lost  their 
magic,  when  no  name  of  old  endearment,  no  voice 
of  onwaiting  tenderness,  can  disperse  the  lethargy 
of  dissolution,  the  name  that  is  above  every  name, 
pionounced  by  one  who  knows  it,  will  kindle  its 
last  animation  in  the  eye  of  death. 

— HaviiUoti,  1814-1867. 

(1004.)  Love  to  Christ  is  an  abiding  motive.  It 
is  neither  a  fancy,  nor  a  sentiment,  nor  an  evanescent 
emotion.  It  is  a  principle — calm,  steady,  untiecay- 
ing.  It  was  once  a  problem  in  mechanics  to  find 
a  pendulum  wiiich  should  be  equally  long  in  all 
weathers — which  should  make  the  same  number  of 
vibrations  in  the  summer's  heat  and  in  the  winter's 
cold.  They  have  now  found  it  out.  By  a  process 
of  comjiensations  they  make  the  rod  lengthen  one 
way  as  much  as  it  contracts  another,  so  that  the 
centre  of  motion  is  always  the  same  :  the  pendulum 
swings  the  same  number  of  beats  in  a  day  of 
January  as  in  a  day  of  June  ;  and  the  index  travels 
over  the  dial-plate  with  the  same  uniformity, 
whether  the  lieal  try  to  lengthen,  or  the  cold  to 
shorten,  the  regulating  power.  Now  the  moving 
power  in  some  men's  minds  is  sadly  susceptible  of 
surrounding  influences.  It  is  not  principle,  but 
feeling,  which  forms  their  pendulum-rod  ;  and 
according  as  this  very  variable  material  is  affected, 
their  index  creeps  or  gallops,  they  are  swift  or  slow 
in  the  work  given  them  to  do.  But  principle  is  like 
the  compensation-rod,  which  neither  lengthens  in 
the  languid  heat,  nor  shortens  in  the  brisker  cold, 
but  does  the  same  work  day  by  day,  whether  the 
ice-winds  whistle  or  the  simoon  glows.  Of  all 
principles,  a  higli-principled  affection  to  the  Saviour 
IS  the  steadiest  and  most  secure.  Other  incentives 
to  action  are  ap*  to  alter  or  lose  their  influence 
altogether.  — JJamiitutt,  1814-1667. 


4.  His  dependence  on  Christ. 

( I . )  Jls  comprehensivetiess. 

(1005.)  A/i  the  sap  and  nourishment  that  the 
branches  of  a  tree  have,  they  receive  it  from  the 
root.  This  shadows  out  unto  us,  that  our  life, 
growth,  strength,  and  all  our  spiritual  acts,  are 
from  Christ,  lie  is  the  root  and  stock  of  every 
believer,  and  all  spiritual  life  is  from  Him  ;  not  only 
the  principles  of  grace,  but  also  the  workings  of 
grace.  As  at  first  we  were  stark  in  sins  and  tres- 
passes until  He  gave  us  life,  so  being  quickened  we 
cannot  grow  nor  act  but  by  influences  from  Him. 
"  We  are  not  sufficient  of  ourselves  to  (kink  any- 
thing as  of  ourselves,  but  our  sufficiency  is  of  God." 
A  good  thought  is  the  least  and  lowest  act  of  grace, 
and  yet  that  we  cannot  do  of  ourselves ;  good 
thoughts  and  desires  are  as  buds  or  blossoms  upon 
a  tree,  which  show  themselves  before  the  fruits ; 
now  if  trees  cannot  bud  of  themselves,  how  much 
less  can  they  bring  forth  fruits?    — Austen,  1656. 

(2.)  lis  continuity. 

(1006.)  The  Christian's  way  to  heaven  is  some- 
thing like  that  in  our  nation  (called  the  IVashes), 
where  the  sands  (by  reason  of  the  seas  daily  over- 
flowing) do  so  alter  that  the  traveller  who  passed 
them  safely  a  month  ago,  cannot  without  great 
danger  venture  again,  except  he  hath  his  guide  with 
him  ;  where  then  he  found  firm  land,  possibly  a 
little  after  coming  he  may  meet  with  a  devouring 
quick-sand.  Truly  thus  the  Christian  who  gets  over 
a  duty  at  one  time  with  some  facility,  his  way 
smooth  and  plain  before  him,  at  another  time  may 
find  a  temptation  in  the  same  duty  enough  to  set 
him,  if  he  had  not  help  from  heaven  to  carry  him 
safe  out  of  the  danger.  O  Christian,  it  is  not  safe 
for  thee  to  venture  one  step  without  thy  stay,  thy 
hand  of  faith  leaning  on  thy  beloved's  arm  :  trust 
to  thy  own  legs  and  thou  fallest ;  use  thy  legs,  but 
trust  to  His  arm,  and  thou  art  safe. 

—  Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(1007.)  "  It  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  to  will  and 
to  do  of  His  good  pleasure."  He  makes  the  heart 
new,  and  having  made  it  fit  for  heavenly  motion,  set- 
ting every  wheel  (as  it  were)  in  its  right  place,  then 
He  winds  it  up  by  His  actuating  grace,  and  sets  it 
on  going,  the  thoughts  to  stir,  the  will  to  move,  and 
make  towards  the  holy  object  presented  ;  yet  here 
the  chariot  is  set,  and  cannot  ascend  the  hill  of 
action,  till  God  puts  His  shoulder  to  the  wheel. 
"To  will  is  present  with  me,  but  how  to  per- 
form that  which  is  good  I  find  not."  God  is  at  the 
bottom  of  the  ladder,  and  at  the  top  also,  the  author 
and  finisher  :  yea,  helping  and  lifting  the  soul  at 
every  round,  in  his  ascent  to  any  holy  action. 
Well,  now  the  Christian  is  set  on  work,  how  long 
will  he  keep  close  to  it  ?  Alas,  poor  soul,  no  longer 
than  he  is  held  up  by  the  same  hand  that  empowered 
him  at  first.  He  hath  soon  wrought  out  the  strength 
received,  and  therefore  to  maintain  the  tenor  of  a 
holy  course,  there  must  be  renewing  strength  from 
Heaven  every  moment  ;  which  David  knew,  and 
therefore  when  his  heart  was  in  as  holy  a  frame  a» 
ever  he  fell  it,  and  his  people  by  their  free-will- 
offering  declared  the  same,  yet  even  then  he  prays 
that  God  would  "keep  this  for  ever  in  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  thoughts  of  the  heart  of  His  peoi)le,  and 
establish  their  hearts  to  Him."  He  adored  the 
mercy  that  made  them  willing,  and  then  he  implores 
iiis  lurthcr  grace  to  strengthen  them,  and  tie  a  knof 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     i8o) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


lliat  these  precious  pearls  newly  strung  on  their 
hearts,  might  not  slip  olT.  The  Christian,  when 
fullest  of  divine  communications,  is  but  a  glass 
without  a  foot  ;  he  cannot  stand,  or  hold  what  he 
hath  leceived  any  longer,  than  God  holds  him  in 
His  strong  hand.  Therefore  Christ  when  bound 
for  heaven,  and  ready  to  take  His  leave  of  His 
children,  bespeaks  His  Father's  care  of  them  in  His 
absence,  "  Father,  keep  them,"  as  if  He  had  said, 
"  they  must  not  be  left  alone,  they  are  poor  shift- 
less children,  that  can  neither  stand  nor  go  without 
help."  — Gnrnull,  1617-1679. 

(1008.)  A  mariner  who  puts  forth  to  sea,  losing 
sight  of  land,  beholds  nothing  but  a  waste  of  waters 
around  him.  The  night  comes  on,  and  clouds  and 
darkness  gather  in  upon  him.  And  the  channel 
through  whicli  he  is  passing  may  be  a  narrow  and 
dangerous  one.  But  still  he  has  an  infallible  guide 
on  board  ;  he  has  his  chart  and  his  compass  to 
consult  with.  .So  the  Christian  pursuing  his  course 
has  darkness  shrouding  his  path-way,  and  storms 
and  tempests  threatening  his  progress  :  but  he,  too, 
has  an  ii.faliible  guide,  the  Holy  Spirit  within  him, 
and  tracts  of  light  opened  upon  him  in  the 
Scriptures.  The  mariner,  whilst  he  furnishes  his 
ship  with  everything  likely  to  be  useful  in  the  voy- 
age, masts  and  sails,  rudder  and  compass,  trusts  to 
the  winds  of  heaven  to  give  effect  to  his  preparations, 
to  give,  as  it  were,  energy  and  life  to  the  vessel  he 
navigates  :  because  he  knows  that  without  the  wind 
his  preparations  are  useless  ;  so,  without  due  pre- 
paration, the  most  favourable  gale  would  blow  in 
vain  for  him.  He  regulates  the  sail  as  the  wind 
requires,  and  holds  to  the  rudder,  never  loses  sight 
of  tlie  compnss,  and  watchfully  keeps  the  narrow 
way  to  which  it  confines  him  by  night  and  by  day. 
So  the  wise  Christian,  after  all  due  preparation  on 
his  own  part  for  his  voyage,  looks  up  as  one  con- 
tinually dependent  on  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  the  one  source  of  all  his  spiritual  life  and 
motion.  He  is  careful  to  watch  the  least  breathing 
of  the  Spirit  upon  his  soul,  that  he  may  not  quench 
it,  but  yield  himself  up  to  its  full  impression.  And 
adding  to  tliis  his  faith  all  diligence  and  watchful- 
ness, he  is  wafted  onwards  in  safety,  amidst  the 
storms  and  wrecks  around  him  in  an  evil  world. 

— Salter. 

(1009.)  The  young  convert  maybe  compared  to 
a  child  whom  his  father  is  leading  over  a  rugged 
and  uneven  path.  After  proceeding  for  some  time 
without  much  difficulty,  he  forgets  that  it  has  been 
owing  to  his  father's  assistance — begins  to  think  that 
he  may  now  venture  to  walk  by  himself,  and  con- 
sequently falls.  Humbled  and  dejected,  he  then 
feels  his  own  weakness,  and  clings  to  his  father  for 
support.  Soon,  hovvever,  elated  with  his  progress, 
he  again  forgets  the  kind  hand  which  sustains  him, 
fancies  he  needs  no  more  assistance,  and  again  falls. 
This  process  is  repeated  a  thousand  times  in  the 
courst-  of  the  Christian's  experience,  till  he  learns 
at  length  that  his  own  strength  is  perfect  weakness, 
and  that  he  must  depend  solely  on  his  heavenly 
Father.  — Salter. 

(3. )  Is  tJie  ground  and  source  of  his  safety. 

(loio.)  This  way  of  God's  dealing  with  His  saints, 
adds  to  the  fulness  and  stability  of  their  strength. 
Were  the  stock  in  our  own  hands,  we  should  soon 
prove  broken  merchants.  God  knows  we  are 
but    leaking   vessels ;    when  fullest,   we   could  not 


hold  it  long  ;  and  therefore  to  make  all  sure,  he  setl 
us  under  the  streamings  forth  of  His  strength, 
and  a  leaking  vessel  under  a  cock  gets  what  it  loseth. 
Thus  we  have  our  leakage  supplied  continuilly. 
This  was  the  provision  Clod  made  for  Israel  in  the 
wilderness;  "  He  clave  the  rock,  and  the  rock 
followed  them."  They  had  not  only  a  draught  at 
present,  but  it  ran  in  a  stream  after  them  ;  so  that 
you  hear  no  more  of  their  complaints  for  water  ; 
"This  rock  was  Christ."  Every  believer  hath 
Christ  at  his  back,  following  him  wit-h  strength  as 
he  goes,  for  every  condition  and  trial.  One  flower 
with  a  root  is  worth  many  in  a  posie,  which,  though 
sweet,  yet  do  not  grow,  but  wither  as  we  wear  them 
in  our  bosoms.  God's  strength,  as  the  root,  keeps 
our  grace  lively,  without  which,  though  as  orient  as 
Adam's  was,  it  would  die. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(toil.)  A  kite  soaring  on  high  is  in  a  situation 
quite  foreign  to  its  nature  ;  as  much  as  the  soul  of 
man  is,  when  raised  above  this  lower  world  to  high 
and  heavenly  pursuits.  A  person  at  a  distance  sees 
not  how  it  is  kept  in  its  exalted  situation  :  he  sees 
not  the  wind  that  blows  it,  nor  the  hand  that  holds 
it,  nor  the  string  by  whose  instrumentality  it  is  held. 
But  all  of  these  powers  are  nex;essary  to  its  pre- 
servation in  that  preternatural  state.  If  the  wind 
were  to  sink  it  would  fall.  It  has  nothing  whatever 
in  itself  to  uphold  itself:  it  has  the  same  tendency 
to  gravitate  to  the  earth  that  it  ever  had,  and  if 
left  for  a  moment  to  itself,  it  would  fall.  Thus  it 
is  with  the  soul  of  every  true  believer.  It  has  been 
raised  by  the  Spirit  of  God  to  a  new,  a  preternatural, 
a  heavenly  state  ;  and  in  that  state  it  is  upheld  by 
an  invisible  and  Almighty  hand,  through  the 
medium  of  faith.  And  upheld  it  shall  be,  but  not 
by  any  power  in  itself.  If  left  for  a  moment,  it 
would  fall  as  much  as  ever.  Its  whole  strength  is 
in  God  alone  ;  and  its  whole  security  is  in  the  un- 
changeableness  of  His  nature,  and  in  the  efficacy  of 
His  grace.  In  a  word,  "  it  is  kept  by  the  power 
of  God,  through  faith,  unto  salvation.      — Salter. 

(1012.)  Up  the  side  of  a  trellis  climbed  a  slender 
plant.  It  seemed  as  though  sensible  that  its  support 
must  be  in  holding  fast  thereunto.  Sometimes  the 
rough  winds  tore  away  its  little  tendrils,  so  that  its 
head  was  bent  low  towards  the  earth  ;  but  again  it 
succeeded  to  catch  hold  :  ay,  and  those  very  trials 
served  to  strengthen  its  future  grasp,  by  causing  it 
to  entwine  the  more  closely  and  hrmly  about  its 
stay.  .So  it  grew  up,  because  the  root  was  deep  in 
the  ground.  Nestling  among  its  green  leaves  it 
bore  flowers  lovely  to  the  eye,  fragrant  to  the  smell, 
and  sweet  to  the  taste  as  the  honey  drop.  And 
when  again  the  rude  winds  came,  it  proved  equal 
to  the  emergency.  Weak  in  itself,  it  was  able  to 
withstand  the  conflict  ;  because  of  the  firm  support 
it  received  from  the  trellis,  unto  which  it  clung  with 
stronger  arms  of  holding  trust. 

How  often  feeble  faith  is  buffeted  by  fears  and 
spiritual  foes  !  But,  its  hoklfast  is  still  on  tiM 
Saviour,  whilst  its  language  is  ever — 

"  Other  refuse  have  I  none, 

Hangs  my  helpless  m)ii1  on  The«| 
Leave,  ah  1   leave  me  not  alone, 
Slill  siippi>rt  and  comrort  me. 

•AH  my  trust  on  Tliee  Is  stayed. 
All  my  hell'  from  Thetr  I  bring; 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing." 

—  Bo7vdm 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(    i8i    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(4. )    Takes  away  all  reason  for  pride. 

(1013.)  Had  God  given  His  saints  a  stock  of 
grace  to  have  set  up  with,  and  left  them  to  the 
improvement  of  it,  He  had  been  magnified  indeed, 
because  it  was  more  than  God  did  owe  the  creature; 
but  lie  had  not  been  oiniiifiai  as  now,  when  not 
only  the  Christian's  first  strength  to  close  with  Christ 
is  from  God,  but  he  is  beholden  still  to  God  for 
the  exercise  of  that  strength,  in  every  action  of  his 
Christian  cousse.  As  a  child  that  travels  in  his 
father's  company,  all  is  paid  for,  but  his  father 
carries  the  purse,  not  himself;  so  the  Christian's 
shot  is  discharged  in  every  condition  ;  but  he  can- 
not say,  This  1  did,  or  that  1  suffered  ;  but  God 
wrought  all  in  me,  and  for  me.  The  very  comb 
of  pride  is  cut  here  ;  no  room  for  any  self-exalting 
thoughts.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(1014.)  Doth  the  Christian's  strength  lie  in  God, 
not  in  liimself  ?  This  may  for  ever  keep  the  Chris- 
tian humble,  when  most  enlarged  in  duty,  most 
assisted  in  his  Christian  course.  Remember,  Chris- 
tian, when  thou  hast  thy  best  suit  on,  who  made  it, 
who  paid  for  it.  Tiiy  grac«;,  thy  comfort,  is  neither 
the  work  of  thy  own  han  Is,  nor  the  price  of  thy 
own  desert ;  be  not  for  shame  proud  of  another's 
cost.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(5.)  Its  absoluteness  does  not  destroy  his  moral 
agency, 

(1015.)  "  If  all  grace  be  from  Christ  in  regard  of 
fresh  assistance  too,  why  is  it  said  that  we  repent, 
believe,  obey  :  for  if  all  grace,  in  regard  of  the  very 
work,  be  from  Christ ;  if  Jesus  Christ  do  work  all 
our  works,  why  is  it  not  rather  said,  that  Christ 
repents,  believes,  obeys?" 

I  answer.  No.  You  know  the  persons  that  are 
responsible  :  if  I  owe  a  man  a  thonsand  pounds, 
and  have  never  a  penny  to  pay  it  ;  and  another 
man  comes  and  tends  me  the  money,  and  goes 
along  with  me  to  the  creditor,  the  bond  is  taken 
up,  and  discharge  made  ;  he  is  not  said  to  have 
paid  the  money,  but  I  am  said  to  pay  the  money 
that  am  responsible.  So,  now,  you  are  responsible  : 
and  therefore,  though  ye  have  all  strength  from 
Christ  to  do  it,  yet  you  are  said  to  repent,  and 
believe,  and  obey.  The  devil  is  not  said  to  commit 
adultery,  and  commit  murder,  yet  by  his  instigation 
it  is  done.  The  sun  works  with  the  tree,  when  the 
tree  brings  forth  fruit ;  and  yet  it  is  not  said  that 
the  sun  brings  forth  fruit  :  because  the  sun  works 
as  an  universal  cause,  and  the  tree  as  a  particular 
cause.  So  now,  though  Jesus  Christ  does  work  in 
all  our  workings,  yet  He  is  not  said  to  repent,  or 
believe,  or  to  obey :  because  He  works  as  an 
universal  cause,  and  you  work  as  a  particular  cause. 
Only  behold  here  the  mirror  of  grace  :  all  is  of 
Christ,  and  yet  all  is  ours  ;  all  is  ours  in  denomina- 
tion, and  all  is  Oirist's  in  operation  ;  all  is  ours 
in  regard  of  encouragement,  and  all  is  Christ's  in 
regard  of  glory  ;  all  is  ours  in  regard  of  reward, 
and  all  is  Ciuist's  in  regard  of  honour.  Here  is 
grace  !  Here  is  the  mystery  of  grace  !  but  still  all, 
whatsoever  grace  a  man  hath,  he  hath  it  from  Jesus 
Christ.  — Bridge,  1600-1679. 

(6.)  Evinces  the  hopeless  condition  of  the  mere 
tnoralist. 

(1016.)  Is  the  Christian's  strength  in  the  Lord, 
not  in  himself?  Surely  tnen  the  Christless  person 
must  na^ds  be  a  poor  impotent  creature,  void  of  ail 


strength  and  ability  of  doing  anything  of  itself  to- 
wards its  own  salvation.  If  the  ship  launched, 
rigged,  and  with  her  sails  spread,  cannot  stir  till 
the  wind  come  fair  and  fills  them,  much  less  can 
the  timber,  that  lies  in  the  carpenter's  yard,  hew  and 
frame  itself  into  a  ship.  If  the  living  tree  cannot 
grow  except  the  root  communicates  its  sap,  much 
less  can  a  dead  rotten  stake  in  the  hedge,  which 
hath  no  root,  live  of  its  own  accord.  In  a  vvoid, 
if  a  Christian,  that  hath  his  spiritual  lif  ■  of  grace, 
cannot  exercise  this  life  without  strength  from 
above,  then  surely,  one  void  of  this  new  life,  dead 
in  sins  and  trespasses,  can  never  be  able  to  beget 
this  in  himself,  or  concur  to  the  production  of  it. 
The  state  of  unregeneracy  is  a  state  of  impotency  : 
"  When  we  were  without  strength,  in  due  time 
Christ  died  for  the  ungodly  "  (Rom.  v.  6),  And  as 
Christ  found  the  lump  of  mankind  covered  with  the 
ruins  of  their  lapseil  estate  (no  more  able  to  raise 
themselves  from  under  the  weight  of  God's  wrath 
which  lay  upon  them,  than  one  buried  under  the 
rubbish  of  a  fallen  house,  is  to  free  himself  of  that 
weight  without  help),  so  the  Spirit  finds  sinners  in 
as  helpless  a  condition,  as  unable  to  repent,  or 
believe  on  Christ  for  salvation,  as  they  were  of 
themselves  to  purchase  it.  Confounded,  therefore, 
for  ever  be  the  language  of  those  sons  of  pride  who 
cry  up  the  powers  of  nature,  as  if  man,  with  his  own 
brick  and  slime  of  natural  abilities,  were  able  to 
rear  such  a  building,  whose  top  may  reach  heaven 
itself.  "  It  is  not  of  him  that  willeth  or  runneth, 
but  God  that  showeth  mercy"  (Rom.  ix.  16). 

—  Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

6.  In  what  spirit  he  approaches  Christ. 

(1017.)  Once  I  went  to  Jesus,  like  a  coxcomb, 
and  gave  myself  fine  airs,  fancying  if  He  was  some- 
thing, so  was  I  ;  if  He  had  merit,  so  had  I.  And 
I  used  Him  as  a  healthy  man  will  use  a  walking- 
staff,  lean  an  ounce  upon  it  or  vapour  with  it  in  the 
air.  But  now  He  is  my  whole  crutch,  no  foot  can 
stir  a  step  without  Him.  He  is  my  all,  as  He 
ought  to  be,  if  He  will  become  my  Saviour  ;  and 
He  bids  me  cast,  not  some,  but  dll  tny  care  upon 
Him. 

My  heart  can  have  no  rest  unless  it  leans  upon 
Him  xuhully,  and  then  it  feels  His  peace.  But  I 
am  apt  to  leave  my  resting-place,  and  when  I  ramble 
from  it,  my  heart  will  quickly  brew  up  mischief. 
Some  evil  temper  now  begins  to  boil,  or  some  care 
would  fain  perplex  me,  or  some  idol  wants  to 
please,  or  some  deadness  or  some  lightness  creeps 
upon  my  spirit,  and  communion  with  my  Saviour 
is  withdrawn.  When  these  thorns  stick  in  my 
flesh,  I  do  not  try,  as  heretofore,  to  pick  them  out 
with  my  own  needle,  but  carry  all  complaints  to 
Jesus,  casting  every  care  upon  Him,  His  office  is 
to  save,  and  mine  10  look  for  help. 

If  evil  tempers  rise,  I  go  to  Him  as  some 
demoniac ;  if  deadness  creeps  upon  me,  I  go  a 
paralytic  ;  if  dissipation  comes,  1  go  a  lunatic  ;  if 
darkness  clouds  my  peace,  I  go  a  Bartimeus  ;  and 
when  I  pray,  1  always  go  a  leper,  crying,  as  Isa:ah 
did,  Unclean  !  Unclean  I 

— Berridge,  17 16-1793. 

IV.    SOME      CHARACTERISTICS      OF     TUB 

CHRISTIAN. 
1,  He  has  his  supreme  delight  in  God. 
(ioi8.)  It   is   observable   that,    in  the  courts  of 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(    182    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


kings,  children  and  ruder  people  are  much  taken 
with  pictures  and  rich  shows,  and  feed  their  fancies 
with  the  sight  of  rich  hangings  and  fine  things  ;  but 
the  grave  statesman  passeth  by  such  things  as  not 
worthy  taking  notice  of — his  business  is  with  the 
king.  Thus  it  is  that,  in  this  world,  most  men 
stay  in  the  outer  rooms,  and  admire  the  low  things 
of  the  world,  and  look  upon  them  as  pieces  of  much 
excellence  ;  but  the  spiritually-minded  man  looketh 
over  all  these  things  that  are  liere  below — his 
business  is  with  God.  Let  them  dote  upon  the 
world  that  are  in  love  with  it  :  whom  hath  he  in 
heaven  but  God?  and  there  is  none  upon  earth 
that  he  desireth  besides  Him. 

— Spencer,  1658. 

a.  The  glory  of  God  Is  Ms  tonstant  aim, 
(1019.)  A  man  that  goes  to  sea  designs  some 
certain  port,  whether  he  guides  his  course  ;  in  this 
way  he  meets,  it  may  be,  with  storms  that  drive 
him  out  of  his  course,  and  sometimes  directly  back- 
wards ;  but  his  design  still  holds,  and  in  the  pur- 
suit thereof  he  applies  his  skill  and  industry  to 
recover  all  his  losses.  So  is  it  with  a  soul  under 
the  conduct  of  grace.  Its  fixed  design  is  to  live 
unto  God,  but  in  its  course  it  meets  with  cross 
winds  of  temptations  and  various  artifices  of  sin. 
These  drive  him  backwards  sometimes,  but  where 
grace  has  the  rule,  it  will  weather  all  these  opposi- 
tions ;  it  will  "restore  the  soul,"  bring  it  again  into 
order,  recover  it  from  the  confusions  and  evil 
frames  that  it  was  drawn  into. 

— Owen,  16 16-1683. 

{1020.)  An  habitual  intending  God  as  our  end, 
dejiending  on  His  support,  and  subjection  to  His 
government,  will  carry  on  the  soul  in  a  sincere  and 
constant  course  of  godliness,  though  the  actual 
most  observed  thoughts  of  the  soul  be  fewer  in 
number  about  God,  than  about  the  means  that  lead 
unto  Him,  and  the  occurrences  in  our  way.  The 
soul  of  man  is  very  active  and  comprehensive,  and 
can  think  of  several  things  at  once  ;  and  when  it 
is  once  clear  and  resolved  in  any  case,  it  can 
act  according  to  that  knowledge  and  resolution, 
without  any  present  sensible  thought  ;  nay,  while 
its  actual,  most  observed  thoughts  are  upon  some- 
thing else.  A  musician  that  hath  an  habitual  skill, 
can  keep  tune  and  time  while  he  is  thinking  of 
some  other  matter.  A  weaver  can  cast  his  shuttle 
right,  and  work  truly,  while  he  is  thinking  or 
talking  of  other  things.  A  man  can  eat  and 
drink  with  discretion,  while  he  talks  of  other 
things.  Some  men  car  dictate  to  two  or  three 
scribes  at  once,  ujion  divers  subjects.  A  traveller 
can  keep  on  his  way,  though  he  seldom  thinks 
distinctly  of  his  journey's  end,  but  be  thinking  or 
discoursing  most  of  the  way  upon  other  matters  ; 
for  before  he  undertook  his  journey  he  thought 
both  of  the  end  and  way,  and  resolved  tiien  which 
way  to  go,  and  that  he  would  go  through  all  both 
fair  and  foul,  and  not  turn  back  till  he  saw  the 
place.  And  this  habitual  understanding  and 
resolution  may  be  secretly  and  unobservedly  active, 
so  as  to  keep  a  man  from  erring,  and  from  turning 
back,  though  at  the  same  time  the  traveller's  most 
sensible  thoughts  and  his  discourse  may  be  upon 
•omc'bir.g  else.  When  a  man  is  once  resolved  of 
his  end,  and  hath  laid  his  design,  he  is  past 
deliberating  of  tliat,  and  therefore  hath  less  use  of 
his  thoughts  about  it ;  but  is  readier  to  lay  them 


out  upon  the  means,  which  may  be  still  uncertain, 
or  may  require  his  frequent  deliberation.  We  have 
usually  more  thoughts  ar:l  speeches  by  the  way 
about  our  company,  or  our  horses,  or  inns^,  or  other 
accommodations,  or  the  fairness  or  foulness  of  the 
way,  or  other  such  occurrences,  than  we  have 
about  the  place  we  are  going  to  :  and  yet  this 
secret  intention  of  our  end  will  bring  us  thither. 

So  when  a  soul  hath  cast  up  his  accounts,  and 
hath  renounced  a  worldly,  sensual  felicity,  and  hath 
fixed  his  hopes  and  resolutions  upon  heaven,  and  is 
resolved  to  cast  himself  upon  Christ,  and  take  God 
for  his  only  portion,  this  secret,  habitual  resolution 
will  do  much  to  keep  him  constant  in  the  way,  though 
his  thoughts  and  talk  be  frequently  on  other  things  : 
yea,  when  we  are  thinking  of  the  creature,  and 
feel  no  actual  thought  of  God,  it  is  yet  God  more 
than  the  creature  that  we  think  of;  for  we  did 
beforehand  look  on  the  creature  as  God's  work, 
representing  Him  unto  the  world,  and  as  His 
talents,  which  we  must  employ  for  Him,  and  as 
every  creature  is  related  to  Him  :  and  this  estima- 
tion of  the  creature  is  still  habitually  (and  in  some 
secret,  less-perceived  act)  most  prevalent  in  the 
soul. 

Though  I  am  not  always  sensibly  thinking  of  the 
king  when  1  use  his  coin,  or  obey  his  laws,  &c., 
yet  it  is  only  as  his  coin  still  that  I  use  it,  and  as 
his  laws  that  1  obey  them.  Weak  habits  cannot  do 
their  work  without  great  carefulness  of  thoughts ; 
but  perfect  habits  will  act  a  man  with  little  thought- 
fulness,  as  coming  near  the  natural  way  of  operation. 
And,  indeed,  the  imperfection  of  our  habituaJ 
godliness  doth  make  our  serious  thoughts  and 
vigilancy  and  industry  to  be  th  emore  necessary  to 
us.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1021.)  Objection.  "But  a  man  cannot  be  always 
thinking  on  God,  and  therefore  not  always  intend- 
ing Him  as  our  end,  and  therefore  cannot  do  all 
for  Him." 

Answer,  I.  If  sin  disable  us,  that  is  no  excuse. 
2.  A  man  may  habitually  intend  an  end,  which  he 
doth  not  actually  think  of.  Yea,  he  may  have  an 
actual  intention,  which  yet  he  doth  not  observe, 
because  of  other  more  sensible  thoughts  tliat  are 
upon  his  mind.  And  yet  his  aforesaid  intention 
may  be  still  effectual  to  cause  him  to  use  :he  means 
as  means. 

For  example,  a  man  that  hath  a  journey  to  go, 
is  not  always  at  the  end  of  it,  by  an  actual  observed 
intention  in  every  step  of  his  way  ;  but  perhaps 
may  be  much  of  the  way  taken  up  with  thoughts 
and  discourse  of  other  things,  and  yet  he  doth  truly 
intend  his  journey's  end,  in  every  step  of  the  way, 
and  use  every  step  as  a  means  to  that  end.  And 
so  it  is  with  a  true  Christian  in  the  work  of  God, 
and  the  way  to  heaven.        — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

{1022.)  The  believer's  purpose  to  glorify  God 
and  enjoy  Him  for  ever,  is  an  habitual,  constant 
purpose.  Whatever  winds  may  drive  him  from  the 
thing  he  purposes ;  yet,  no  wind  can  drive  him 
from  his  purpose  when  once  it  is  wrought  of  God 
in  his  heart.  He  may  be  drawn  to  sin  ;  but  he 
can  never  be  drawn  to  a  purpose  of  living  in  sin; 
nay,  il  some  strong  corruptions  prevail  agamst  him, 
and  lead  him  captive,  yet  he  can  confidently  appeal 
to  Heaven  it  was  against  his  purpose,  and  against 
his  prayers,  and  against  his  tears,  and  against  his 
,  hope,  that  such  an  iniquity  prevailed  agarusl  him. 


CHRISTIAN.    THE 


(    «83    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


It  is  with  him  as  it  is  with  a  marin;r  that  sets  out 
for  such  a  distant  haven,  with  a  full  purpose  to  sail 
straight  to  it ;  but,  against  his  purpose,  he  is  carried 
to  this  port  and  that  port,  which  he  never 
designed  ;  yet  still  his  purpose  remains,  and  he 
never  rests  till  he  come  to  the  place  he  designed. 
— Erskine,  1685-1752. 

(1023.)  The  sun-flower  has  no  set  days  for  follow- 
ing the  sun  and  drinking  in  his  radiance  ;  neither 
has  it  any  set  days  for  exhaling  its  own  perfume. 
It  swings  its  crnser  of  incense  in  the  still  air  all 
summer  long.  So  with  the  Christian.  His  heart 
is  a  true  sun-flower,  following  the  Great  Spiritual 
Luminary  from  dawn  to  eventide,  drooping  its  head 
in  sadness  when  the  night  shadows  fall,  and  ready 
to  expand  the  folded  blossom  again,  at  the  summons 
of  the  morning.  He  does  not  give  God  the  Sabbath 
merely,  and  closes  his  leaves  and  petals  to  holy 
influences  all  the  week.  He  seeks  to  begin  it,  carry 
it  on,  and  end  it  under  the  consciousness  of  the 
Divine  favour.  — Macduff. 

3.  He  Is  fruitful  and  useful. 

(1024.)  The  grateful  soul  of  a  healthy  Christian 
is  not  a  desert  that  drinks  of  the  dews  of  heaven, 
and  produces  no  verdure  in  return,  but  every  cloud 
seems  to  drop  upon  it  fatness  and  fertility  ;  so  that 
each  season  of  spiritual  enjoyment  is  followed  by 
some  instance  of  grace,  and  zeal  for  the  glory  of  his 
Redeemer.  His  piety  is  such,  that  like  the  rose  he 
breathes  forth  sweetness  of  his  very  nature  ;  not  the 
sickliness  of  a  fulsome  profession,  but  the  healthy 
perfume  of  a  tree  the  Lord  has  planted,  and  is 
nurturing  to  His  own  glory.  — Salter. 

(1025.)  Can  any  of  us  be  said  to  be  bringing 
forth  much  fruit?  Not  if  compared  with  Him  ;  not 
if  compared  with  His  requirements  ;  not  if  compared 
with  His  example ;  but  much  if  compared  with 
ourselves  and  our  past  history — much,  because  it  is 
continually  getting  more,  our  past  successes  being 
only  the  starting  points  for  future  success — ever 
increasing  and  progressive  results.  If  a  tree  which 
has  stood  in  utter  barrenness  since  first  the  husband- 
man planted  it  in  the  soil  suddenly  puts  forth  fruit ; 
although  it  may  be  little  compared  with  his  wishes, 
and  compared  with  the  fruit  of  the  other  trees  in 
the  garden,  yet  that  scanty  produce  is  ntttch  when 
compared  with  its  own  unfruitful  past ;  and  so  when 
a  soul  which  has  long  been  standing  as  a  cumberer 
of  the  ground  suddenly  brings  forth  fruit  unto 
holiness,  that  fruit  may  be  little  compared  with  the 
Master's  requirements  and  desires — little  compared 
with  the  abundant  returns  which  other  and  saintlier 
spirits  yield,  yet  it  is  much  when  compared  with  its 
profitless  past,  and  it  contains  the  pledge  of  more 
und  more,  in  an  increasing  ratio,  through  the 
coming  years.  — J.  IV.  Boulditig, 

4.  He  resembles  Christ. 

(1026.)  If  we  examine  a  growing  vine  very  min- 
utely and  attentively,  we  shall  be  struck  with  the 
remarkable  resemblance  which  exists  between  all 
its  parts.  They  all  seem  to  be  framed  after  the 
same  pattern,  and  to  be  mere  repetitions  of  each 
Oliver.  Even  in  the  minor  part  of  the  tree — the 
leaf,  the  flower,  the  fruit,  the  seed,  we  Hnd  the  same 
wonderful  general  likeness.  This  mutual  cor- 
respondence, however,  exists  in  a  perfect  state  only 
when  tlve  tree  is  fui  'y  and  fairly  developed.     It  is 


modified  by  a  great  variety  of  circumstances,  natural 
and  artificial.  When  the  tree  is  placed  in  a  thick 
crowded  plantation,  pressed  by  others  on  every  side, 
and  prevented  from  assuming  its  natural  form  and 
proportions  ;  when  it  grows  in  poor  and  unsuitable 
soil  ;  when  it  has  not  free  access  to  the  air  and 
light  of  heaven,  it  will  not  exhibit  this  feature  of 
mutual  resemblance  between  all  its  parts  so  dis- 
tinctly. Some  parts  will  be  stunted,  others  over- 
grown, and  the  harmony  and  order  of  the  whole 
will  be  deranged,  but  the  typical  correspondence 
will  still,  to  some  extent,  be  retained.  Applying 
this  quality  of  the  vine  and  its  branches  to  Christ 
and  His  people,  we  find  that  the  same  remarkable 
resemblance  exists  between  them  also.  Each  Chris- 
tian bears  at  every  stage  of  growth  some  likeness  to 
Christ,  to  whom  he  is  united  by  a  living  faith.  In 
the  indistinct — the  unformed  lines,  sketched  in  the 
character  of  the  weakest  believer,  there  are  some 
traces  of  what  will  be  hereafter  a  full  portrait  of  the 
altogether  lovely  One,  though  as  yet  rude  and  com- 
paratively unattractive.  The  vital  change  which  he 
has  undergone  is  complete  in  nothing,  but  it  has 
begun  in  all  the  parts  of  his  nature  The  leaven  of 
regeneration  is  sending  its  transforming  power, 
silently  and  slowly  perhaps,  but  surely,  throughout 
his  whole  being.  The  image  in  which  he  was 
created,  and  to  which  he  is  redeemed,  is  more  and 
more  restored  in  the  soul.  Yes  !  each  believer  is  a 
type  or  miniature  more  or  less  true  and  perfect  of 
the  Divine  original ;  and  all  believers  have  a  general 
family  likeness  ;  they  have  features  of  resemblance 
to  each  other  and  to  Christ  which  cannot  be  mis- 
taken or  concealed,  and  which  prove,  beyond  the 
possibility  of  doubt,  their  common  orij^in  and 
mutual  relationship.  They  are  not,  like  the  image 
which  Nebuchadnezzar  saw  in  a  dream,  composed 
of  the  most  heterogeneous  materials  ;  its  head  of 
fine  gold,  its  breast  and  its  arms  of  silver,  its  belly 
and  its  thighs  of  brass,  its  legs  of  iron,  and  its  feet 
part  of  iron  and  part  of  clay.  They  are  like  the 
vine  and  its  branches,  whose  every  part  is  typical 
of  the  whole.  — Macniillan. 

(1027.)  The  character  of  Christ,  as  He  lived 
upon  earth,  is  like  a  perfect  many-sided  crystal. 
Whichever  way  you  look  at  it,  it  is  without  flaw. 
Whichever  way  you  turn  it,  some  new  beauty  of 
colour  is  reflected  from  the  rays  of  light  shining 
through  it.  The  character  of  the  Christian  is  like 
a  crystal  too,  but  a  small  one,  full  of  cracks  and 
flaws,  which  break  up  and  disfigure  the  brilliant 
gleams  reflected  from  the  sunlight.  The  Christian 
must  be  like  Christ,  or  he  is  nothing,  but  it  is  a 
likeness  with  a  vast  distance  between — the  likeness 
of  an  infant  to  the  strong  man  ;  the  likeness  of  a 
feeble  sapling  to  the  full-grown  giant  oak. 

— Hooper, 

(1028.)  You  are  to  accept  as  a  Christian  every 
one  whose  life  and  disposition  arc  Christ-like,  no 
matter  how  heretical  the  denomination  may  be  to 
which  he  belongs.  Wherever  you  find  faith,  and 
righteousness,  and  love,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 
you  are  to  look  upon  them  as  the  stamped  coin  of 
Christ's  kingdom,  and  as  a  legal  tender  from  God 
to  you.  — H.  W.  Beeclier, 

6.  He  has  his  "  conyersatlon  In  beaven." 

(1020.)  The  eyes  of  the  world  see  no  farther  than 
this  lite,  as  mine  see  no  farther  than  this  wall  when 


CHRISTIAN    THE 


(     184    ) 


CHRISTIAN,    THE 


the  church  door  is  shut.     The  eyes  of  the  Christian 
see  deep  into  eternity.  — Vianney. 

(1030.)  "Let  your  conversation" — your  daily 
life — "be" — where?  "in  heaven."  To  meet  this 
requirement  is  distinctly  set  forth  as  the  mark  of 
the  truly  regenerate  soul.  "They  that  are  after 
the  flesh  do  mind  the  things  of  the  flesh,  but  they 
that  are  after  the  spirit " — who  have  the  spiritual 
mind,  who  are  born  of  God — they  "mind  heavenly 
things  ;  "  they  live  in  their  mind  in  heaven.  It  is 
not  so  hard  as  to  be  unreasonable ;  it  is  clearly 
what  is  required  of  us,  and  it  is  not  unreason- 
able. 

Just  consider  for  a  moment.  Suppose  that  there 
were  somewhere  a  land  beyond  the  seas  to  which 
we  were  destined  to  emigrate,  we  know  not  how 
soon  ;  it  may  be  next  year,  it  may  be  this  year,  it 
may  be  next  week,  it  may  be  to-morrow.  It  is  a 
fairer  land  than  this,  a  sunnier  clime,  peopled  by  a 
purer,  holier,  happier  race  than  surrounds  us  here. 
If  we  were  destined — we  know  not  how  soon — for 
emigration  to  that  land,  should  we  not  be  thinking 
about  it  often  and  much  ?  Should  we  not  be 
living  in  the  anticipation  of  it?  Should  we  not  be 
feeling  already  that  it  was  our  land  ;  that  it  was 
our  home  ?  Would  not  our  thoughts  and  our 
hopes  be  there  as  in  our  home? 

— David  Thomas,  B.A.,  1811-1875. 

V.    SOME  OF  HIS  DUTIES. 

X,  He  should  be  single  In  his  aim. 

(103 1.)  When  Christians  have  two  aims  they  are 
like  two  rivers  which  flow  near  the  city  of  Geneva, 
the  Arve  and  the  Rhone.  The  Rhone  comes 
flowing  along  a  beautiful  blue — a  blue  which 
painters  give  to  Italian  skies,  and  to  the  rivers  of 
Switzerland.  It  is  no  exaggeration,  they  are  as 
blue  as  they  are  painted.  The  Arve  comes  down 
from  the  glacier,  a  chalky,  dirty  white.  I  stood 
sometime  ago  at  the  place  these  two  rivers  join. 
It  was  not  long  before  the  Arve  had  quenched  the 
Rhone  ;  all  that  beautiful  blue  had  fled  away  and 
nothing  but  white  was  seen.  "  Evil  communica- 
tions corrupt  good  manners."  If  your  life  be  made 
up  of  two  streams,  worldliness  running  in  like  the 
Arve,  and  you  hope  to  have  spirituality  running  in 
like  the  blue  Rhone,  you  will  soon  be  mistaken. 

— Spirgcon. 

a.  He  should  be  blameless  in  his  life. 

(1032.)  The  eclipses  of  the  sun  are  seldom 
without  witnesses.  If  you  take  yourselves  to  be  the 
light  of  the  Church,  you  may  well  expect  that  men's 
eyes  should  be  upon  you.  If  other  men  may  sin 
without  observation,  so  cannot  you. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(t033')  In  the  opening  verse  of  chapter  vii. 
(Lccles.  vii.  i.)  Solomon  had  emphatically  said 
that  a  good  name  is  better  than  precious  ointment. 
It  may  have  been  this  very  comparison  which 
afterwards  suggested  the  striking  and  most  impor- 
tant thought  to  which  expression  is  given,  in  the 
outset  of  the  passage  at  present  before  us  {i.e., 
Eccles  X.  l).  The  very  sweetness  of  a  precious 
ointment — the  very  exquisiteness  and  delicacy  of 
its  odour — exposes  it  to  be  the  more  easily  injured. 
It  may  be  so  tainteJ  by  the  corruption  of  even  a 
dead  fly,  as  to  have  its  perfumes  spoilc  i     M,]j  so 


seemingly  trifling  a  cause,  may  all  the  cost  and 
skill  bestowed  on  it  by  the  apothecary  be  rendered 
of  no  avail.  And  how  true  a  picture  does  this 
illustration  exhibit,  of  the  fatal  injury  which  a  little 
folly  is  sure  to  inflict  upon  the  good  name  of  the 
man  who  is  held  in  reputation  for  wisdom  and 
honour.  Indiscretions  that  would  never  be  noticed 
in  men  of  inferior  character,  are  ruinous  to  him. 
Nor  is  it  difficult  to  understand  how  this  result 
should  arise.  On  a  soiled  garment,  even  a  fresh 
stain  makes  no  very  conspicuous  mark  ;  but  a  spot 
catches  the  eye  at  once  on  a  snow-white  robe. 

— Buchanan. 

3.  He  should  make  the  Word  of  God  the  rule  of 
his  life. 

(1034.)  Be  sure  to  keep  thy  eye  on  the  right  rule 
thou  art  to  walk  by.  Every  calling  hath  a  rule  to 
go  by,  peculiar  to  itself,  which  requires  some  study 
to  get  an  insight  into,  without  which  a  man  will 
but  bungle  in  his  work.  No  calling  hath  such  a 
sure  rule  and  perfect  law  to  go  by  as  the  Chris- 
tians ;  therefore  in  earthly  professions  and  worldly 
callings,  men  vary  in  their  way  and  method, 
though  of  the  same  trade,  because  there  is  no  such 
perfect  rule,  but  another  may  super-add  to  it.  But 
the  Christian  hath  one  standing  rule,  the  Word  of 
God,  ''''able  to  make  the  rnan  of  God  perfect ;"  now 
he  that  would  excel  in  the  power  of  holine.ss  must 
study  this.  The  physician  consults  with  his 
Galen  ;  the  lawyer  with  his  Littleton ;  and  the 
philosopher  with  his  Aristotle  ;  the  masters  of  these 
arts.  How  much  more  should  the  Christian  with 
the  Word,  so  as  to  be  determined  by  that,  and 
drawn  by  that,  more  than  by  a  whole  team 
of  arguments  from  men?     — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

4.  He  must  be  crucified  to,  and  separate  from, 
the  world. 

(1035.)  Our  crucifying  of  or  to  the  world, 
requireth  not  any  secession  from  the  world,  nor  a 
withdrawing  ourselves  from  the  society  of  men,  nor 
the  casting  away  the  property  of  the  necessaries 
which  we  possess.  It  is  an  easier  thing  to  throw 
away  our  Master's  talents,  than  faithfully  to  im- 
prove them.  The  Papists  giory  in  the  holiness  of 
their  Church,  because  they  have  many  among  them 
that  have  vowed  never  to  marry,  and  have  no 
property,  and  have  separated  themselves  into  a 
monastical  society  ;  a  high  commendation  to  theit 
Church,  when  men  must  be  sainted  with  them, 
if  they  will  do  no  mischief,  though  they  niaj^e 
themselves  useless  to  the  rest  of  the  woild.  The 
servant  that  hid  his  talent  in  a  napkin  was  con- 
demned by  Christ  as  wicked  and  slothful  ;  and  shall 
he  be  commended  by  us  for  being  extraordinarily 
devout?  W^ill  you  reward  that  servant  that  will 
lock  up  himself  in  his  chamber,  or  hide  his  head  111 
a  hole,  wlien  he  should  be  busy  at  your  work  ? 
Or  will  you  reward  that  soldier  that  will  withdraw 
from  the  army  into  a  corner,  when  he  should  be 
fighting  ?  The  world  swarms  on  every  side  with 
multitudes  of  ignorant  and  impenitent  sinneis, 
whose  miserable  condition  crieth  loud  for  some 
relief,  to  all  that  are  any  way  able  to  relieve  tiiem. 
And  these  religious  monks  make  haste  from  among 
them,  and  leave  them  to  themselves  to  sink  or 
swim,  and  they  think  this  cruelly  to  be  the  top  of 
piety.  Unworthy  is  that  man  to  live  on  the  earth, 
that  liveth  only  to  himself,  and  communicateth  not 
the  gifts  of  tiod  to  others.     And  yet  do  these  idle. 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


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CHRISTIAN.     THE 


onprofitable  drones  esteem  their  course  the  life  of 
perfection.  When  we  must  charge  through  tlie 
thickest  of  our  enemies,  and  bear  all  the  unthankful 
requitals  of  the  world,  and  undergo  their  scorns  and 
persecutions,  these  wary  soldiers  can  look  to  their 
slain,  and  get  out  of  the  reach  of  such  encounters; 
and  when  they  have  done,  imagine  that  they  have 
fjot  the  vittory.  To  live  to  ourselves,  were  it  never 
so  spiritually,  is  far  unlike  the  life  of  a  Christian  ;  a 
good  man  is  a  common  good,  and  compassionate  to 
the  miserable,  and  desirous  to  bring  others  to  the 
participation  of  his  felicity.  To  withdraw  from 
the  world  to  do  God  service,  is  to  get  out  of 
the  vineyard  or  shop  that  we  may  do  our  Master's 
work.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1036.)  If  we  are  crucified  to  the  world,  our 
delight  in  it  is  crucified.  It  seemelh  not  to  us  a 
matter  of  such  worth,  as  to  be  fit  for  our  delight. 
Children  are  glad  of  toys,  which  a  wise  man  hath  no 
pleasure  in.  To  have  too  sweet  contentful  thoughts 
in  the  creature,  and  to  apprehend  it  as  our  good, 
and  to  be  rejoiced  in  it,  is  a  sign  that  so  far 
we  are  not  crucified  to  it.     — Baxter,  16 15-169 1, 

(1037.)  A  man  that  is  dead  to  the  world  will 
not  hate  or  be  much  dispjeased  with  those  that 
hinder  him  from  the  riches,  or  honours,  or  pleasures 
of  the  world.  He  makes  no  great  matter  of  it, 
and  taketh  it  for  no  great  hurt  or  loss.  And 
therefore  rather  than  sturiy  revenge,  he  can  patiently 
bear  it,  when  they  have  taken  away  his  coat,  'f 
they  take  away  his  cloak  also.  He  doth  not  swell 
with  malice  against  them  that  stand  in  the  way  of 
liis  advancement,  or  hinder  his  rising  or  riches  in 
the  world.  He  will  not  envy  the  precedency  of  others, 
or  seek  the  disgrace  or  ruin  of  them  that  keep  him 
low.  No  more  than  a  wise  man  will  hate  or  seek 
to  be  revenged  of  him  that  would  hinder  him  from 
climbing  up  to  the  top  of  a  steeple,  or  that  will 
take  a  stone  or  a  bush  of  thorns  out  of  his  way. 
— Baxter,  161 5- 169 1. 

(1038.)  When  we  are  crucified  to  the  world,  our 
expectations  of  good  from  the  world  are  crucified. 
Before  we  looked  for  much  from  it,  we  thought  if 
we  had  this  pleasure,  or  that  honour  ;  if  we  had 
such  lands,  buildings,  friends,  or  provision,  then 
we  were  well,  or  at  least  much  better  than  now  we 
are !  Oh,  how  good  did  we  think  that  these  were 
for  us  !  And  therefore  we  still  lived  in  hope  of 
more.  But  when  we  are  crucified  to  the  world,  we 
give  up  these  hopes.  We  see  then  that  we  are 
deceived.  We  did  but  hope  for  nourishment  from 
a  stone.  The  breasts  are  dry  which  we  thought 
would  have  refreshed  and  satisfied  us.  When  we 
see  that  the  world  is  an  empty  thing,  a  mask,  a 
picture,  a  dream,  a  shadow,  we  turn  away  from  it, 
and  look  no  more  after  it,  but  look  for  content 
in  something  else.  As  a  child  that  sceth  a  painted 
apple  may  be  eager  of  it  till  he  try  that  it  is  savour- 
less, and  then  he  caieth  for  it  no  more.  Or  if  a 
beautiful  crab  deceive  him,  when  he  hath  set  his 
teeth  in  it,  he  casteth  it  away  ;  so  when  a  Christian 
findeth  the  folly  of  his  former  expectations,  and 
tasteth  the  vexations  of  the  creatine  which  he  was 
so  greedy  of,  and  withal  is  acquainted  by  a  lively 
faith,  where  he  may  be  better,  away  go  all  his 
expectations  from  tlis  world  ;  and  he  promiseth 
himself  no  a>9re  content  or  satisfaction  in  it. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 


{1039.)  A  person  defending  believers  associating 
with  worldly  society  said  believers  are  called  to  be 
the  salt  of  the  earth.  Yes,  said  M.  d'Alet,  and 
yet  if  salt  be  cast  into  the  ocean  from  which  it  was 
originally  drawn,  it  will  melt  away  and  vanish 
entirely. 

(1040.)  A  fisherman  informs  us  that  the  trout 
always  exhibits  the  colour  of  the  water  in  which  it 
lives.  In  like  manner  professed  believers  reflect 
faithfully  the  quality  of  the  influences  under  which 
they  live.  He  that  is  immersed  in  the  stagnant 
waters  of  questionable  indulgences  and  of  a  life 
fashioned  by  the  prevailing  customs  around  him, 
will  in  faded  tints  betray  the  unfavourable,  shame- 
ful conditions  under  which  he  is  working  out  the 
problem  of  life. 

(1041.)  As  Christians  are  to  think  of  living  for 
awhile  in  the  world,  it  is  not  um-easonable  for  them 
to  be  aflected  with  its  occurrences  and  changes. 
Some  plead  for  a  kmd  of  abstracted  and  sublimated 
devotion,  which  the  circumstances  they  are  placed 
in  by  their  Creator  render  equally  impracticable 
and  absurd.  They  are  never  to  notice  the  aliairs  of 
government,  or  the  measures  of  administiaiion  ; 
war,  or  peace ;  liberty,  or  slavery ;  plenty,  or 
scarcity  ;  all  is  to  be  equally  indifferent  to  them  : 
they  are  to  leave  these  carnal  and  worldly  things  to 
others.  But  have  they  not  bodies?  Have  they 
not  families?  Is  religion  founded  on  the  ruins  of 
humanity?  When  a  man  becomes  a  Christian, 
does  he  cease  to  be  a  member  of  civil  society  ? 
Allowing  that  he  be  not  the  owner  of  the  ship,  but 
only  a  passenger  in  it,  has  he  nothing  to  awaken 
his  concern  in  the  voyage  ?  If  he  be  only  a 
traveller  towards  a  better  country,  is  he  to  be  told, 
that  because  he  is  at  an  inn  which  he  is  soon  to 
leave,  it  should  not  excite  any  emotion  in  him, 
whether  it  be  invaded  by  robbers,  or  consumed  by 
flames  before  the  morning?  "  In  the  peace  thereof 
ye  shall  have  peace  ;  "  and  are  not  Christians  to 
"provide  things  honest  in  the  sight  of. ail  men?" 
Are  they  to  detach  themselves  while  here  from  the 
interests  of  their  fellow-creatures;  <  to  "rejoice 
with  them   that   rejoice,  and  weep  with  them  that 


weep 


Is    not    religion    variously    aflected    by 


public  transactions  ?  Can  a  Christian,  for  instance, 
be  indifi'erent  to  the  cause  of  freedom,  even  on  a 
pious  principle?  Does  not  civil  liberty  necessarily 
include  religious?  and  is  it  not  necessary  to  the 
exertions  of  ministers  and  the  spreading  of  the 
gospel  ?  —7"y- 

6.  He  must  make  an  open  profession  of 
religion. 

(1042.)  Sometime  ago  when  in  a  mine,  looking 
through  its  dark  corridors,  I  every  now  and  then 
saw  the  glimmer  of  a  moving  lamp,  and  I  could 
track  it  all  through  the  mine.  The  reason  Wit' 
that  the  minei  carried  it  on  his  hat, — it  was  a  part 
of  himself,  and  it  showed  where  he  went.  I  said, — 
Would  that  in  this  dark  world  every  miner  of  the 
Master  carried  his  lamo  to  show  where  he  wa"'S. 

— Cuyler. 

6.  He  must  not  fear  to  be  singular. 

(1043.)  He  is  unworthy  of  heaven  that  w'll  ro.  'ive 
well  without  company,  nor  do  good  but  by  exanijiie, 
nor  move  a  step  before  his  neighbours.  Cowards 
stand  still  looking  who  should  go  first ;  and  they 
are  mere  jades  that  will  not  go  except  the  way  be 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(    i86    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


led  them.  He  was  a  brave  and  bold  Israelite  that 
first  did  wt  his  foot  into  the  channel  of  the  sea, 
leading  the  rest  all  along  that  moist  and  uncouth 
walk  :  he  is  a  soldier  of  courage  that  first  mounts 
the  breach.  — Adams,  1654. 

(1044.)  Conscious  that  it  is  only  sovereign  grace 
which  makes  them  differ  from  others,  none  are  less 
likely  to  make  a  parade  of  their  good  works  than 
God's  people.  Indeed,  I  have  known  some  of 
these  run  into  the  opposite  extreme — forgetting 
tliat  the  liglit  which  Hashes  over  the  sea  from 
lighthouse-towers,  on  rugged  headland  or  sunken 
rock,  is  not  kindled  to  be  hid,  but  seen.  A  candle, 
as  our  Lord  says,  is  set  on  a  candlestick,  not  under 
a  bushel,  that  it  may  light  the  house  ;  and,  how- 
ever singular  our  conduct  may  ajipear  to  the  world, 
or  whatever  occasion  it  may  afford  scoffers  to  sneer, 
the  Christian  should  never  allow  himself  to  be 
deterred  from  obeying  his  Master's  behests,  fol- 
lowing in  his  Leader's  steps,  and  so  making  His 
lifjht  to  shine  that,  not  he,  but  His  Fathei  in 
heaven,  may  be  glorified.  — Guthrie. 

7.  He  must  not  be  afraid  of  ridicule. 

(1045.)  Religion  is  no  ignominious,  disgraceful 
thing.  Satan  labours  to  cast  all  the  odium  and  re- 
proach upon  it  that  he  can  ;  that  it  is  devout  frenzy, 
folly  in  grain  ;  "As  for  this  sect,  we  know  that  it 
is  ever}'where  spoken  against."  But  wise  men 
measure  things  by  the  end  ;  what  is  the  end  of  a 
religious  life?  It  ends  in  a  kingdom.  Would  n 
prince  regard  the  flightings  of  a  few  frantics  when 
he  is  going  to  he  crowned  ?  V'ou  who  are  beginners, 
bind  their  reproaches  as  a  crown  about  your  head, 
despise  their  censures  as  much  as  their  praise ;  a 
kingdom  is  a-coming.  — IVatson,  1696. 

8.  He  must  not  be  daunted  by  the  difficulties  of 
the  Christian  life. 

(1046.)  There  was  never  a  good  thing  easily  come 
by.  The  heathen  man  could  say,  "  God  sells  know- 
ledg:  for  sweat ; "  and  so  He  doth  honour  for 
jeopardy.  Never  any  man  hath  got  either  weaJth 
or  learning  with  ease.  Therefore  the  greatest  good 
must  needs  be  most  difficult.  How  shall  I  hope  to 
get  Christ  if  I  take  no  pains  for  Him  ?  And  if,  in 
all  other  things,  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  whets  the 
n)ind  so  much  the  more  to  seek,  why  should  it  in 
this  alone  daunt  me?  I  will  not  care  what  I  do, 
what  I  suffer,  so  I  may  win  Christ.  If  men  can 
endure  such  cutting,  such  lancing,  and  searing  of 
their  bodies,  to  protract  a  miserable  life  yet  awhile 
longer,  what  pain  should  I  refuse  for  eternity? 

— Biiil,  1 574-1656. 

9.  He  should  be  Interested  in  the  diffusion  of 
the  Gospel. 

(1047.)  A  Christian  ought  to  rejoice  when  he  hears 
of  the  Gospel's  spread,  and  he  ought  to  grieve  when 
he  hears  of  obstructions  to  its  progress.  In  other 
words,  if  we  are  Christians,  we  shall  have  the  same 
interest  in  the  ("Jospel  that  a  politician  has  in  the 
pnliiics  and  progress  of  the  oarty  he  belongs  to.  If 
you  watch  a  politician,  he  says,  I  move  under  a 
certain  banner  ;  I  am  associated  with  an  existing  or 
a  deposed  prime  minister,  and  1  rejoice  that  such  a 
one  has  been  elected  there,  and  such  a  one  rejected 
here.  In  short,  a  thorough  politician  is  full  of  his 
party.  He  opens  the  paper  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  in  order  to  see  what  M'  party  has  gained 


or  lost.  His  whole  heart  is  in  the  party.  Let  ui 
borrow  a  leaf  from  his  book ;  let  oui  chief  thoughts 
and  affections  be  in  that  cause  which  knows  no 
party,  and  seeks  no  partisanship.       — Ctimming. 

10.  He  must  reflect  the  Divine  character. 

( 1048. )  Believers  are  mirrors  to  reflect  the  glory  of 
God.  A  mirror,  if  placed  opposite  to  a  luminous 
object,  will  reflect  its  rays,  and  show  distinctly  its 
image.  Such  is  the  Christian  man  under  the  Gospel. 
Looking  stea<lily  to  God,  and  l>ehol(ling  Him  face 
to  face,  liiere  is  nolliing  to  shut  out  the  rays  of  His 
glory,  like  beams  of  light,  from  shining  upon  them. 
And  now  tney  reflect  His  light  in  the  imitation  of 
His  perfections,  and  become  as  so  many  mirrors, 
where  His  image,  which  they  have  contemplated  in 
the  Gospel,  shines  forth  to  the  glory  of  their  God. 

— Salter, 

11.  He  must  seek  to  diffuse  happiness  around 
him. 

(1049.)  Go  into  the  worst  street  in  New  York, 
where  filth  and  vice  and  corruption  abound,  and 
where  there  is  the  crying  of  children,  and  the  barking 
of  dogs,  and  the  quarrelling  of  men  and  women,  and 
let  a  band  of  music  come  in  at  one  end  and  march 
through,  playing  as  tliey  march,  and  the  sound  of 
the  music  will  put  an  end  to  the  crying  and  barking 
and  quarrelling,  and  all  will  stand  for  the  moment 
intent  ;  and  when  the  band  has  swept  out,  and  the 
music  has  died  away  on  the  air,  they  will  take  a  new 
breath,  and  will  have  to  start  new  quarrels.  They 
cannot  weld  the  old  ones  on  to  the  new  ones. 

Now,  Christian  men  ought  to  carry  themselves  so 
that  their  presence  shall  be  like  that  of  a  band  of 
music.  They  ought  to  be  so  full  of  Christian  graces, 
so  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  so  full  of  all  that  makes 
manhood  beautiful,  and  that  irradiates  life  with  hope 
and  cheer,  so  full  of  sweetness,  and  patience,  and 
temperance,  and  forbearance,  so  full  of  the  spirit  of 
honouring  each  other,  and  preferring  one  another, 
and  bearing  each  the  other's  burdens,  so  full  of  god- 
liness, that  all  the  city  shall  stand  still  and  hear  these 
musicians  of  God  play.  And  when  they  go  away, 
the  impression  which  they  leave  behind  them  should 
be  such  that  all  who  have  seen  them  and  heard  them 
sing  shall  long  to  see  them  and  hear  them  sing  again. 
Oh,  if  Christian  men  were  only  keyed  to  the  com- 
mand. Thou  shall  love  God  with  all  thy  heart  and 
mind  and  soul,  and  thy  fello7v-vien  as  thyself ;  if 
every  man  loved  every  other  man  as  a  mother  loves 
her  babe  to  whom  she  gives  days  and  nights,  her 
whole  time,  her  strength,  her  very  life  ;  if  every 
man  loved  his  neighbour  as  himself;  if  love  abounded 
in  every  man,  accoriling  to  the  idea  of  the  apostle, 
what  a  dillerent  conception  there  would  be  of  Chris- 
tian life  !  — Btecher. 

(1050.)  Blessed  is  every  man  who  carries  himself 
as  the  mignonette  carries  itself,  homely  and  small, 
but  with  more  fragrance  than  it  can  keep,  filling  th« 
air  with  sweetness,  and  rejoicing  every  man  who 
passes  by.  A  Christian  man,  though  he  be  humble 
and  inconspicuous,  like  the  mignonette,  should  be  full 
of  the  fragrance  of  love,  and  gentleness,  and  peace. 
Or,  if  he  be  more  aspiring,  let  liini  be  as  the  honey- 
suckle, that  never  climbs  so  iiigh  that  it  forgets  to 
blossom,  and  never  blossoms  so  high  that  it  cannot 
send  down  fragrance  in  showers  to  the  low-iying 
creatures  beneath  it.  Whether  you  be  high  or  low, 
let  there  be  enough  of  the  influence  of  God  shed 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     187    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


abroad  in  your  heart  for  you  and  for  those  round 
about  you.  So  shall  you  be  children  of  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven.  — Beecher. 

12.  He  must  live  In  a  state  of  constant  pre- 
Daredness  for  deatti. 

{1051.)  A  Christian  must  stand  in  a  posture  to 
receive  every  message  which  God  shall  send.  He 
must  be  so  prepared,  as  to  be  like  one  who  is  called 
to  set  off  on  a  sudden  journey,  and  has  notliing  to 
do  but  to  set  out  at  a  moment's  notice  ;  or  like  a 
merchant  who  has  goods  to  send  abroatl,  and  has 
them  all  packed  up  and  in  readiness  for  the  first 
vessel  that  is  to  sail.  — dcil,  \-}i,'i-\'6\o. 

(1052.)  We  should  always  stand  "with  our 
lam]5s  burning,  and  our  loins  girt."  A  Christian 
should  always  be  as  a  ship  that  has  taken  in  its 
lading,  and  is  prepared  and  furnished  with  all 
manner  of  tackling,  ready  to  sail,  only  expecting 
the  good  winds  to  carry  him  out  of  the  haven.  So 
should  we  be  ready  to  set  sail  for  the  ocean  of 
eternity,  and  stand  at  heaven's  gate,  be  in  a  i)er- 
petual  exercise  of  faith  and  love,  and  be  fittingly 
prepared  to  meet  our  Saviour.  — Salter. 

VI.  HIS  DISCOURAGEMENTS. 

(1053.)  Thestateof  the  most  advanced  Christians 
is  olten  very  unsatisfactory.  I'he  affections  ihai, 
true  as  the  needle  to  the  pole,  should  point  steadily 
to  heaven,  go  wheeling  about  like  a  weather  vane 
that  shifts  with  shifting  winds.  Sinful  thoughts 
and  bad  desires  spring  up,  thick  as  weeds  in 
showery  weather  —  faster  than  we  can  cut  them 
down  ;  and  every  attempt  to  keep  the  heart  pure, 
noly,  heavenly,  ends  in  miserable  failure — extorting 
the  question,  "  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things?" 
It  is  disheartening  !  We  go  into  our  gardens,  and 
see  the  tlowers  growing  into  beauty  by  sunny  day 
and  silent  night  ;  week  by  week  of  autumn  the 
fields  around  us  assume  a  more  golden  tint,  ripening 
for  the  harvest  ;  and  year  by  year,  childhood  in  our 
homes  rises  into  youth,  and  youth  into  bearded 
manhood  ; — but  our  poor  souls  seem  standing  still. 
There  is  no  appreciable  progress  ;  and  we  begin  to 
ask,  Are  we  never  to  grow  fit  for  heaven  ?  Is  our 
hope  of  it  but  a  pious  dream,  a  beautiful  delusion  ? 
iJaily  called  to  contend  with  temptation,  the  battle 
often  goes  against  us  ;  in  these  passions,  and  tem- 
pers, and  old  habits,  the  sons  of  Zeruiah  are  too 
strong  for  us.  Not  that  we  do  not  fight.  That 
startling  cry.  The  Philistines  are  on  thee,  Samson  ! 
rouses  us  ;  we  make  some  little  fight ;  but  too  often 
resisting  only  to  be  conquered,  we  are  ready  to  give 
up  the  struggle— saying.  It  is  useless  ;  and  like  Saul 
in  Gilboa's  battle,  throw  away  sword  and  shield. 
We  would  ;  but  that,  cheered  by  a  voice  from 
above,  and  sustained  by  hope  in  God's  grace  and 
mercy,  we  can  turn  to  our  souls  to  say,  Why  art 
tiiou  cast  down,  my  soul  ;  why  is  my  spirit  dis- 
quieted within  me? — rise  ;  resume  thy  arms;  renew 
the  combat  ;  never  surrender  !  "Hope  thou  in  God, 
for  I  shall  yet  praise  Him,  who  is  the  health  of  my 
countenance,  and  my  God."  — GuUirie. 

VII.  HIS  IMPERFECTIONS. 

(1054.)  How  often  do  we  see  a  tree  well  covered 

with  the  early  shoots  and  young  leaves,  but  yet 
with  many  of  last  year's  dead  leaves  still  hanging 
on  to  the  branches,  intermixed  with  the  latest  and 
best  of  the  summei  growth,  as  if  to  remmd  one  that 


even  this  tree,  fresh  in  the  glory  of  its  summei 
clothing,  was  but  a  little  while  ago  unsightly  with 
dead  and  useless  leaves.  Nor  will  the  tree  rid  itseU 
of  these  till  the  full  tide  of  sap  has  filled  the  branches 
with  full-grown  verdure,  when  the  old  leaves  will 
drop  to  the  earth,  and  no  longer  be  cumbersome. 

The  Christian,  like  the  tree,  bears  fiesh  leaves  oj 
a  new  heart,  and  even  the  good  fruit  of  a  godly  life, 
anil  seems  at  fiiist  to  be  all  but  faultless  ;  but  how 
often,  on  nearer  view,  do  evil  ways,  bad  habits,  and 
wicked  passions,  come  to  view  and  disfigure  the 
beauty  of  the  Christian  man  or  woman,  so  that 
companions  are  reminded  of  the  late  winter  of  an 
unrenewed  life,  of  the  remainders  of  evil  old  leaves 
not  yet  ail  stripped  off  or  blown  away  by  the  breath 
of  the  Divine  chastisement.  Nor  will  the  Christian 
stand  in  perfect  clotiiing,  and  without  any  evil  thing, 
till  the  Divine  influence  has  permeated  every  part 
of  the  soul,  and  driven  from  it  the  remaining  traces 
of  the  old  Adam.  — Austen,  1656. 

(1055.)  The  present  is  a  mixed  condition  during 
which  the  believer  feels  like  a  sick  man  under  his 
recovery,  thankful  for  his  deliverance  and  life  ;  the 
fears  of  death  have  passed  away,  the  poison  of 
disease  no  longer  rages  within  him  ;  disease  has  no 
longer  its  fatal  grasp  on  its  victim,  he  has  shaken 
it  olf,  but  he  is  very  much  enfeebled  by  it — he  finds 
himself  still  a  very  weak  creature ;  alas  I  he  is 
feeling  the  sad  remains  of  sin,  his  former  com- 
plaint, so  that  he  "cannot  do  the  things  that  he 
would  ;"  he  cannot  work  as  he  would,  nor  enjoy 
himself  as  he  would  ;  he  must  still  be  attentive  to 
the  prescriptions  of  his  Heavenly  Physician,  and 
must  wait  the  day  of  perfect  restoration. 

—Salter. 

(1056.)  How  truly  may  it  be  said  to  the  most 
experienced,  aged,  honouied  Christian,  as  the  Lord 
said  to  Joshua,  "Thou  art  old  and  well-stricken 
in  years,  and  yet  there  is  much  land  to  be  possessed." 
Sin  still  has  more  or  less  power  over  you,  and  it 
should  have  none  ;  your  corruptions  are  wounded, 
dying  of  mortal  wounds,  but  they  are  not  yet  dead  ; 
your  affections  are  set  on  heaven,  yet  how  much 
are  they  still  entangled  with  earthly  things  ;  youi 
heart,  like  the  needle  of  a  sailor's  compass  to  the 
Pole,  points  to  Christ,  but  how  easily  is  it  dis- 
turbed, how  tremblingly  and  unsteadily  does  it 
often  point  to  Him  ;  your  s]urit  has  wings,  but  how 
short  are  its  flights,  and  how  often,  like  a  half- 
fledged  eaglet,  has  it  to  seek  the  nest,  and  come 
back  to  rest  on  the  Rock  of  Ages  ;  your  soul  is  a 
garden  in  which,  when  north  and  south  winds 
blow  to  call  out  its  spices,  Christ  delights  to  walk, 
but  with  many  a  beautiful  flower  how  many  vile 
weeds  are  there — ready  to  spring  up,  and  ill  'o 
keep  down— requiring  constant  care  and  watching. 

— Guthyie. 

VIII.    HIS  CORRUPTIONS. 

(1057.)  In  material  fruit  trees  the  sour  nature  of 
the  wild  plants  that  are  grafted  upon  does  still  con- 
tinue in  tiie  stock,  or  root,  and  is  not  taken  away 
by  ingrafting,  it  is  only  restrained  and  kept  under 
by  the  graft.  The  nature  of  the  graft  is  pre- 
dominant in  the  tree,  and  overrules  in  bringing 
forth  fruits  according  to  its  own  kind  (although 
with  some  small  degree  of  the  sour  nature  of  the 
stock  mixed  with  it),  and  the  two  natures  of  th« 
graft  and  stock  continue  mixed  together  as  long  as 
the  tree  lives. 


CHRTSTIAN.     THE 


(     x88    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


TTiis  is  another  similitude  of  the  state  of  mystical 
fruit  trees,  and  shadows  forth  unto  us  this  proposi- 
tion :  77Mt  corrupt  natifi-e  abides  in  beliroers  as  long 
as  they  live,  and  is  but  in  part  subdued  by  grace. 

We  find  by  experience  that  after  a  plant  is 
engrafted,  both  the  graft  and  the  stock  will  shoot 
forth,  and  if  the  graft  grow  vigorously  and  strongly, 
then  the  slioots  of  the  stock  are  but  weak,  but  if  the 
shoots  of  the  stock  break  out  strongly,  then  the 
graft  grows  but  weakly,  therefore,  the  husbandman 
takes  pains  often  to  cut  off  the  shoots  that  grow 
upon  ll;e  stock,  so  that  the  graft  may  grow  the 
better. 

This  is  another  similitude  of  the  state  of  mystical 
fruit  trees,  and  shadows  forth  unto  us  this  proposi- 
rion  :  That  while  the  spiritual  part  in  us  acts  and 
§rcnvs  strongly,  the  jleshly  part  eels  but  V'eakly ;  so 
also,  if  the  flesh  be  strong,  the  sp  rit  is  7veak, 

This  should  teach  us  often  lO  take  notice  of  the 
actings  of  our  spirits,  whether  the  stock  or  the 
graft  bud  the  faster.  If  we  were  watchful  daily, 
and  took  pains  with  our  spirits  to  keep  them  up 
in  a  spiritual  frame  in  communion  with  God,  then 
(by  degrees)  the  shoots  and  growths  of  the 
spiritual  part  would  become  strong,  and  the  shoots 
of  the  flesh  weak  and  feeble.  Oh,  that  this  were 
well  weighed  and  practised  by  Christians  !  it  is 
the  very  life,  spirit,  and  power  of  godliness,  thus 
to  walk  with  God,  in  communion  with  Him: 
hereby  we  are  enabled  to  do,  and  suffer  all  things 
for  God,  and  to  resist,  and  keep  under  the  flesh 
and  all  enemies  ;  this  is  the  life  of  our  life,  and 
heaven  upon  earth.  — Austen,  1656. 

(1058.)  When  Venice  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
Austrians,  those  alien  tyrants  swarmed  in  every 
quarter  ;  but  the  Venetians  hated  them  to  the  last 
degree,  and  showed  their  enmity  upon  all  occa- 
sions. When  the  Austrian  officers  sat  down  at  any 
of  the  tables  in  the  square  of  St.  Mark,  where  the 
Venetians  delight  on  summer  evenings  to  eat  their 
ices  and  drink  their  coffee,  the  company  would 
immediately  rise  and  retire,  showing  by  their  with- 
drawal that  they  abhorred  their  oppressors.  After 
this  lashion  will  every  true  Christian  treat  his 
inbred  sins ;  he  will  not  be  happy  under  their 
power,  nor  tolerate  their  dominion,  nor  show  them 
favour.  If  he  cannot  expel  them,  he  will  not 
indulge  them.  — Spurgeon. 

IX.    HIS  CONFLICTS. 

(1059.)  A  child  has  all  the  members  of  a  perfect 
man  ;  yet  are  they  in  a  very  feeble  and  imperfect 
state  :  and  it  is  by  the  exercise  of  his  powers  that 
he  has  those  powers  strengthened  and  enlarged. 
And  thus  it  is  with  every  child  of  God.  He  is 
born  a  babe,  and  though  every  gracious  principle 
exists  within  him,  he  is  so  feeble  as  scarcely  to  be 
able  to  withstand  temptation,  or  to  exercise  his 
powers  to  any  great  extent.  But,  through  the 
remains  of  sin  within  him  he  is  led  to  frequent 
conllicts  with  it :  by  exercise  his  powers  are  in- 
creased ;  and  by  progressive  increase,  they  are  per- 
fected. Thus,  from  "a  babe,"  he  grows  np  to 
maturer  age  and  stature,  and  becomes  "a  young 
man  ;"  and  from  "a  young  man,"  "a  father." 

— aimeon. 

(1060.)  The  conflicts  of  the  Christian,  "the  flesh 
Kistinj?  against  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit  against  the 
flesh/    continue  to  the  end  of  life,   and  may  be 


compared  to  a  conflagration  which  is  opposed  by 
engines  where  the  supply  of  water  is  scarcely  equal 
to  the  demand,  and  not  incessantly  followed  up. 
Sometimes  the  tire  yields  to  the  well  directed  stream, 
and  at  other  times  it  breaks  forth  with  renewed  fury, 
and  seems  to  defy  the  efforts  of  those  who  would 
arrest  its  progress.  — Salter. 

(1061.)  The  spirit  and  the  flesh,  grace  and 
nature,  heavenly  and  earthly  influences,  are  some- 
times so  fairly  balanced,  that  like  a  ship  with  wind 
and  tide  acting  on  her  with  equal  power,  but  in 
opposite  directions,  the  believer  makes  no  progress 
in  the  divine  life.  He  loses  headway.  He  does 
not  become  worse,  but  he  grows  no  better  ;  and  it 
is  all  he  can  do  to  hold  his  own.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  he  loses  ground  ;  falling  into  old  sins. 
Temptation  comes  like  a  roaring  sea  squall,  and 
finding  him  asleep  at  his  jiost  drives  him  backward 
on  his  course  ;  and  further  now  from  heaven  than 
once  he  was,  he  h.as  to  pray,  Heal  my  backsliding, 
renew  me  graciously,  love  me  freely.  For  Thy 
name's  sake,  O  Lord,  pardon  mine  iniquity,  for  it 
is  great.  — Guthrie. 

(1062.)  The  aim  of  the  true  Christian  is  to  have 
his  Saviour  always  before  his  eyes  as  a  pattern  for 
imitation.  His  course  is  beset  with  difficulties; 
hindrances  and  disa[ipointments  await  him  at  every 
turn.  In  the  New  Testament  the  Christian's  career 
is  uniformly  represented  as  one  of  continual  struggle. 
St.  Paul  compares  him  to  one  who  contends  in  the 
athletic  games  of  the  Greeks — to  a  soldier  engaged 
in  grim  combat  with  an  unsparing  foe.  It  is, 
indeed,  encouraging  to  the  living  wayfaring  follower 
of  Christ  to  read  tliese  descriptions  of  the  saint's 
career  in  the  time  of  the  apostles,  because  it  shows 
him  that  the  troubles  which  he  is  enduring  are  only 
the  troubles  which  are  incidental  to  the  Christian 
brotherhood  in  all  time.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  Sciiptural  view  of  the  Christian's  career  is  not 
a  little  saddening,  because  it  confirms  him  in  the 
humiliating  conviction,  which  he  has  been  taught 
by  his  own  experience,  that  he  cannot  attain  to 
anything  like  a  state  of  absolute  purity  and  sinless- 
ness,  of  perfect  obedience  to  the  will  of  God.  The 
Christian  is,  in  truth,  like  a  traveller  who  wishes  to 
reach  before  sunset  some  high  mountain-top.  He 
toils  painfully  on.  He  gets  to  one  peak  after 
another.  At  each  eminence  he  flatters  himself  that 
he  is  close  to  his  journey's  end.  But  no  sooner 
does  he  pause  to  look  forward  once  more  than  he 
beholds  the  coveted  summit  still  far  off  in  the 
distance ;  and  when  night  sets  in  he  sees  the 
mountain-top  still  towering  high  up  unreached. 
So  the  Christian  overcomes  one  fault  after  another, 
one  sin  after  another.  He  persuades  himself  at 
each  struggle  that,  this  one  evil  habit  vanquished, 
he  shall  have  reached  that  perfection  at  which  he 
is  aiming,  and  that  the  remainder  of  his  course  will 
be  smooth  and  easy.  But  he  finds  that  no  sooner 
is  one  sin  conquered  than  another  springs  up.  So 
he  passes  his  whole  life,  and  death  finds  him  still 
engaged  in  the  struggle.  Perfection  is,  indeed,  not 
for  man.  Even  the  strictest  lollowers  of  George 
Fox,  in  their  strictest  days,  although  they  asserted 
that  perfection  was  possible,  contradicted  their  own 
statement  by  explaining  that  perfection  is  pro- 
gressive. Still,  under  every  disappointment,  tha 
perfect  Saviour  must  ever  be  the  model  of  the 
imperfect  Christian,  because  he  knows  that  though 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     189    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


he  cannot  reach  the  standard  set  by  Christ,  yet,  by 
constantly  striving  towards  i^,  he  shall  reach  a 
higher  degree  of  lioliness  and  purity  than  he  would 
have  been  able  to  attain  liad  he  imitated  anything 
short  of  perfection.  The  true  painter  is  never  con- 
tent to  copy  from  other  men's  pictures.  He  goes 
direct  to  Nature.  He  knows  that  he  can  never 
catch  the  living  hues  of  his  great  model ;  but  he 
also  knows  that  he  should  fall  immeasurably  lower 
in  his  heart  if  he  were  satisfied  to  imitate  other 
painters'  productions.  Let  not  the  Christian  despair 
because  he  cannot  get  rid  altogether  of  his  sinful- 
ness. We  are  not  meant  to  get  rid  altogether  of 
our  sinfulness.  Earth  is  not  heaven.  It  is  a  place 
of  pilgrimage  and  warfare  and  struggle. 

— Hooper. 

X.    HIS  CONSOLATIONS. 

1.  He  Is  sure  of  all  nesdful  things. 

(1063.)  "  Seek  first  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and 
these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  That  is,  as 
you  need  them.  He  casts  ihem  into  the  other 
(more  grand  blessings)  as  a  tradesman  would  do 
thread  and  paper,  or  a  akein  of  silk,  unto  a  parcel 
of  rich  commodities  that  a  customer  buys  of  him. 
— Gnrnall,  1617-1679. 

(1064.)  Because  he  ts  a  king's  son,  he  shall 
have  an  education  suiied  to  his  character  and  pro- 
spects. —  Cecil,  1 743-1 8 10. 

2.  It  doth  not  yet  a  ppear  what  he  shall  be. 

(1065.)  Our  childrfn  that  lie  in  the  cradle  are 
ours,  and  bear  in  thrm  those  lines  which  shall  yet 
make  them  to  appear  the  boy  like  the  father,  and 
the  dauglUer  like  the  mother  ;  and  we  are  God's, 
growing  up,  we  trust,  into  the  lineaments  which 
shall  make  us  like  unto  Him.  "It  doth  not  yet 
appear  what  we  shall  lie."  —Beecher. 

3.  Where  sin  abouhds,  there  grace  shall  much 
more  abound. 

(1066.)  When  the  Sarkness  of  the  night  falleth, 
it  covereth  the  wh  'le  world,  dimmeth  the  colour 
and  fashion  of  all  cieatcres,  feareth  and  discomfort- 
eth  them,  yet  is  it  not  of  such  power  as  to  quench 
the  least  light  in  'he  world.  For  the  darker  the 
night  is,  the  clearer  do  the  stars  shine  ;  yea,  the 
least  light  of  a  candle  withstandeth  the  whole  night, 
and  giveth  light  rov4nd  about  in  the  midst  of  dark- 
ness. A  little  spark  also  of  a  coal  cannot  the  dark- 
ness cover,  much  leas  is  it  able  to  quench  it.  Now 
is  God  the  true,  everlasting,  and  heavenly  light. 
Through  faith  doth  God  dwell  in  our  hearts,  and 
Christ's  disciples  are  called  the  lights  of  the  world. 
Hereout  followeth  U,  that  though  the  prince  of 
spiritual  darkness  thrust  in  with  iiis  noisome  poison 
and  i^lagues,  yet  he  can  neither  apprehend  nor 
destroy  any  faithful  man  or  woman,  but  shall  be 
smiUen  back  and  driven  away  perforce. 

A  little  vein  of  water  breaketh  foith  out  of  the 
ground  sometime  scarce  a  finger  big  ;  and  when  the 
water  is  gathered  into  a  ditch  or  pond,  it  springeth 
nevertheless.  And  though  the  water  become  heavy 
of  certain  hundredweight,  and  move  about  the 
fountain,  yet  can  it  not  drive  back  the  fountain,  but 
it  driveth  the  whole  weight  of  the  water  backward 
and  forward,  and  springeth  still  continually,  till  the 
ditch  be  so  full  that  it  go  over.  And  if  the  other 
water  be  foul  and  troubled,  it  cannot  mingle  itself 
among   the  fresh  clear  water  of  the  fountain  ;  but 


the  same  remaineth   pure   and   fair,   till  in   time  It 
come  far  from  the  head  sprmg. 

Now  is  God  the  only  plentiful  Fountain  of  all  life, 
and  the  faithful  are  very  flowing  wells.  For 
Christ  saith,  "  Whoso  believeth  on  Me  out  of  his 
body,  as  saith  the  Scripture,  shall  flow  streams  of 
water  of  life,"  which  words  He  spake  of  the  Spirit, 
that  they  which  believe  on  Him  should  receive. 
Thus  no  mischance  of  this  world  can  spoil  any 
faithful  man  of  his  comfort  and  life  ;  forasmuch  as 
God,  the  Eternal  Weil-Spring  of  life,  dwelleth  and 
floweth  in  his  heart,  and  driveth  all  noisome 
things  far  away  from  it.        — IVeTinnllerus,  1551. 

(1067,)  Being  employed  in  the  garden,  I  was 
afiected  to  see  how  much  the  weeds  came  on  faster 
than  the  herbs  and  plants.  Just  so  do  corruptions 
thrive  and  grow  in  my  soul.  Yet  this  comforts 
me — the  herbs,  most  of  them,  are  better  rooted  than 
the  weeds  ;  they  are  not  so  easily  pulled  up.  The 
good  part  shall  not  be  taken  away.  If  I  a'n  grow- 
ing on  the  root  Christ,  no  man  shall  ever  be  able  to 
pull  me  thence — "kept  by  the  power  of  God 
through  faith  unto  salvation."  — Salter. 

(1068.)  In  Scotland  last  year,  while  steaming  up 
one  of  the  great  lochs,  close  by  the  shore  I  saw  .a 
great  bed  of  water-lilies  near  the  bank,  which  were 
discoloured  with  dust  from  the  road  running  just 
above  them  ;  all  their  beauty  was  spoiled.  As 
the  steamer  passed,  a  great  wave  rolled  over  the 
lilies,  entirely  submerging  them,  and  I  exclaimed. 
"Oh,  they  are  all  broken  in  pieces!"  but  as  the 
wave  rolled  back,  the  lilie.":  burst  again  upon  my 
view,  riding  gracefully  upon  the  waters,  radiaiit 
with  beauty  and  white  as  the  driven  snow.  The 
only  effect  of  the  wave  had  been  to  wash  away  the 
dust  and  bring  them  out  in  their  virgin  purity.  So 
with  the  Christian  soul  sealed  by  God.  It  cannot 
be  destroyed,  but  the  dust  of  sin  that  covers  it 
will  all  be  washed  away,  and  it  will  be  made  fit 
to  stand  and  live  in  (iod's  presence. 

— Armitage. 

4.  Ultimately  he  shall  be  entirely  like  Christ. 

(1069.)  "I  shall  be  satisfied,"  &c.  The  like* 
ness,  "after  the  image  of  him  that  created  him," 
must  be  restored,  that  man  may  be  once  more 
"satisfied."  At  present  the  believer  is  like  the 
marble  in  the  hands  of  the  sculptor,  but  though 
day  by  day  he  may  give  fresh  touches,  and  work 
the  marble  into  greater  emulation  of  the  original, 
the  resemblance  will  be  far  from  complete  until 
death.  Each  fresh  degree  of  likeness  is  a  fresh 
advance  towards  satisfaction.  It  must  then  be  that 
when  every  feature  is  moulded  into  similitude, 
when  all  traces  of  feebleness  and  depravity  are 
swept  away  for  ever,  the  statue  breathes,  and  the 
picture  burns  with  Deity  :  it  must  be  that  then  we 
"shall  be  filled."  We  shall  look  on  the  descending 
Mediator,  and,  as  though  the  ardent  gaze  drew 
down  celestial  fire,  we  shall  seem  instantly  to  pass 
through  the  Refiner's  furnace,  and  leaving  behind 
all  the  dishonour  of  the  grave,  and  all  the  dross  oi 
corruptible  humanity,  spring  upwards,  an  ethereal, 
rapid,  flowing  thing,  Christ's  image,  extracted  by 
Christ's  lustres.  — Melvill,  1 798-1871. 

(1070.)  An  artist  delights  in  his  own  work,  and 
would  not  leave  one  single  flaw  or  defect  in  it 
aesisjnedly  (Phil.    i.    6),     Olv  then  look    upon  me, 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     lOO    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


rhou  wise  Creator !  Knowing  Thou  canst  do  no 
less  than  a  human  artist,  remove  these  impediments 
which  discredit  Thy  work.  Thou  canst  bring  out 
Df  darlvness  light,  and  I  believe  Thy  work  shall  be 
finished  at  last,  and  glorify  the  name  of  its  Maker 
(I  Pet.  V.  lo).  —Salter. 

(1071. »  Et^en  in  the  true  beginnings  of  grace, 
there  is  little  appearance  of  coming  glory  :  it  is 
there,  al'  tl^ere  ;  but  only  as  the  acorn  implies  the 
great  btancl.es  and  green  leaves.  For  the  root  of 
the  matie'  may  be  where  much  natural  evil  lingers: 
and  evf  n  ?  r(  d's  grace  often  leaves,  to  the  last,  much 
that  is-  uramiable,  in  the  case  of  some  who  were 
not  an'IaVle  from  the  first  :  much  that  is  foolish,  in 
the  case  <■{  very  sincere  believers  who  were  fools  to 
begin  with  :  Tiuch  that  is  bitter,  unfair,  uncharitable, 
and  <  ver  di  honest,  in  human  beings  with  true  zeal 
for  wiiai  'h-y  honestly  think  Christ's  cause:  and 
hovv-  diftfer^t  all  these  people  will  need  to  be  when 
they  enttr  leaven.  You  cannot  suppose  a  soul  in 
hea\en  sjo  .».alky,  that  no  one  would  ever  speak  to 
'it  who  (;i->ul(l  help  it  :  but  it  is  unquestionable  that 
there  are  go'd  Christians  in  the  world,  to  whom  no 
one  would  s,ieak  if  they  could  help.  And  even  the 
■rare  liei.evei  who  adds  the  beauty  of  saintly  holiness 
to  a  beautiful  amiability  of  nature  and  to  all  the 
graces  of  the  finest  culture,  will  yet  sometimes  show 
that  the  old  man  is  not  quite  crucified  :  break  out 
into  ^lioughl.s,  words,  doings,  that  would  not  do  in 
heavrn,  Bu*  though  the  best  believer  is  not  now 
hoi)  enough  for  the  home  above,  you  cannot  say 
anyvhiiig  from  that.  He  will  be  so.  "The  souls  of 
behevtrsareat  their  death,"  if  never  before,  "made 
peifect  tn  holiness." 

And  there  \re  many  analogies  to  the  great  regene- 
raJng  and  sanctifying  change.  Look  at  an  acrid 
si  >e  :  d'les  that  look  like  the  peach  which  cultiva- 
ti  )n  can  bitng  it  to?  Look  in  the  factory  at  a  mass 
cf  rotten  tlax  :  is  that  anything  like  the  finest  of 
man's  te>  ti^e  fabrics  that  it  may  be  made  into  ?  Look 
at  a  mas?  of  rusty  iron  :  is  there  any  promise  there 
of  the  d(  i  icate  mechanism  of  a  watch's  wheels  and 
springs  ? 

And  so,  in  the  penitent  soul,  bowed  down  on 
account  of  sin,  trembling  in  the  presence  of  God 
who  hates  sin,  there  is  little  promise  of  the  glorified 
spirit,  perfect  in  holiness,  and  desiring  no  greater 
h.T,p,pdness  than  to  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord.  .  In 
the  sharp,  white  face  of  the  dying  believer — or  in 
tlte  mouldering  clay,  there  is  little  promise  of  the 
spiritual  body  raised  incorruptible  and  immortal. 
Hut  in  the  proud  self-righteous  persecutor  of  the 
Church,  there  was  just  as  little  of  the  great  apostle 
of  the  Gentiles.  In  the  traitor  that  profanely  denied 
hiis  Master  there  was  little  promise  of  the  fearless 
St.  Peter,  who,  when  his  day  of  martyrdom  came, 
was  allowed  the  choice  ot  the  manner  of  his  death  ; 
and  chose  the  cruellest  he  could  think  of,  that  he 
might  fare  worse  than  his  Lord.  In  the  wretched 
blasphemer  of  the  African  coast  there  was  no 
appearance  of  the  zealous  minister  of  Christ,  John 
Newton  ;  and  in  the  wild  cursing  tinker  of  Bedford 
no  promise  that  he,  in  God's  good  time,  should 
write  that  most  familiar  volume,  which  sets  out  with 
a  charm  so  wonderful  the  progress  of  the  soul  in  its 
pilgrimage  towards  God. 

But  these  are  cases  which  time  has  cleared  up, 
and  that  even  we  now  see  the  end  of:  and  it  touches 
ourselves  more  nearly,  to  think  that  He  who  in 
other  days  saw  how  woh  more  was  to  be  noA" 


than  appeared  at  first,  of  St.  Paul,  St.  Petet, 
Newton,  Bunyan,  and  multitudes  more,  sees  yet 
the  first  piomise  of  the  happy  saint  in  many  a  soul 
where  the  eye  of  man  could  make  out  very  little 
appearance  of  it  now.  In  the  narrow-minded 
ignorant  believer  now,  we  can  see  no  trace  of  the 
untrammelled  understanding  of  the  spirit  set  free 
from  prejudice  and  error  ;  and  in  the  bitter  partisan 
sectary,  not  entirely  careful  to  speak  the  truth  of 
those  who  differ  from  him,  in  whom  yet  is  found, 
though  sorely  overgrown  with  misapprehensions 
and  ill-feeling,  the  root  of  the  matter,  we  can  see 
little  promise  of  that  perfected  love,  in  which  he 
will  yet  spend  eternity  with  those  whom  here, 
Pharisee-like,  he  held  at  arm's  length,  and  regarded 
only  as  rivals  and  opponents.  But  He  who  knows 
what  is  in  man,  and  what  the  Blessed  Spirit  can 
make  of  man,  can  discern  even  now,  looking  over 
the  harvest-field  which  is  the  world,  true  grace 
growing  under  the  most  unpromising  forms  ;  and 
ripening  towards  glorious  developments  never  sus- 
pected here.  —Boyd. 

XT.  HIS  RENEWAL  IN  THE  DIVINE 
IMAGE. 

(1072.)  The  restoration  of  God's  image  rather 
resembles  the  growing  likeness  to  its  beautiful  ori- 
ginal in  the  canvas  of  the  artist.  At  first  the  out- 
line, and  slowly  the  form  and  features  of  the  human 
face  divine  appear,  though  with  some  confusion  ; 
gradually  they  rise  to  more  distinctness  and  pre- 
cision, and  the  likeness  stands  confessed.  So  the 
Divine  Artist,  the  Holy  Spirit,  restores  the  deformed 
and  misshapen  soul,  and  successively  imparts  to  it 
every  moral  beauty  and  perfection  of  God  ;  and  the 
soul  is  once  more  confessedly  like  God  "  in  know- 
ledge, in  righteousness,  and  true  holiness." 

—Salter. 

XII.    HIS  DIGNITY  AND  WEALTH. 

(1073.)  The  difference  between  the  egg  and  the 
bird,  the  acorn  and  the  oak,  is  not  near  so  great  as 
the  difference  between  the  kingdom  of  grace  and  of 
glory.  And  yet  a  man  that  had  never  seen  or 
known  the  production  of  such  creatures  would  little 
believe,  if  you  should  show  him  an  acorn,  that  that 
would  come  to  be  an  oak.  And  it  is  no  marvel  if  a 
carnal  heart  will  not  believe  that  the  weak,  des])ised 
graces  of  the  saints  do  lend  to  such  an  inconceivable 
glory.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1074.)  The  very  relation  of  a  godly  man  to  his 
everlasting  glory  is  an  honour  ten  thousand  times 
surpassing  the  honour  of  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world.  If  you  did  but  know  that  one  of  your  poor 
neighbours  should  certainly  be  a  king,  would  you 
not  presently  honour  him,  even  in  his  rags?  You 
may  know  that  the  saints  shall  reign  with  Christ,  as 
sure  as  if  an  angel  from  heaven  had  told  you  so, 
and  more  ;  and  therefore  how  should  a  saint  be 
honoured?  If  God  had  but  legibly  marked  out 
some  among  you  for  salvation,  and  written  in  their 
foreheails,  "This  man  shall  be  saved,"  would  not 
all  the  parish  reverence  that  man  ?  W'liy,  a 
heavenly  mind  and  the  love  of  God,  self-denial 
and  holy  obedience,  are  heaven-marks  infallible,  as 
true  as  the  Gospel,  and  written  by  the  same  hand 
as  the  Gospel  was — I  mean  by  the  Spirit  of  God 
Himself.  — Baxter;  1615-1691. 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     191     ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(1075.)  In  the  present  state,  the  least  part  of  a 
saint's  worth  is  visible.  As  the  earth  is  fruitful  in 
plants  and  flowers,  but  its  riches  are  in  mines  of 
precious  metal,  and  the  veins  of  marble  hidden  in 
its  bosom,  true  grace  appears  in  sensible  actions, 
but  its  glory  is  within.  The  sincerity  of  aims,  the 
purity  of  affection,  the  impresses  of  the  Spirit  on 
the  heart,  the  interior  beauties  of  holiness,  are  only 
seen  by  God.  Besides,  such  is  the  humility  of 
eminent  saints,  that  the  more  they  abound  in 
spiritual  treasures,  the  less  they  show  ;  as  the 
heavenly  bodies,  when  in  nearest  conjunction  with 
the  sun  and  fullest  of  light,  make  the  least  appear- 
ance to  our  sight.  — Salter. 

1076.)  An  aged  Christian  man  was  on  his  death- 
bed, and  was  happy  in  the  prospect  of  soon  entering 
into  the  joy  of  his  Lord.  lie  had  a  brother  who 
had  made  the  world  the  great  object  of  his  life,  and 
who,  of  course,  was  very  poor  toward  God  ;  and 
with  all  his  worldly  shrewdness,  was  so  short- 
sighted as  to  have  made  no  provision  for  the  world 
to  come,  and  had  no  idea  of  enjoying  an  inheritance 
beyond  the  grave. 

1  lis  dying  brother  had  given  greater  attention  to 
the  acquirement  of  true  riches  than  to  the 
realisation  of  worldly  wealth  ;  and  in  his  infirmities 
and  sickness  he  required  that  Christian  friends 
should  minister  to  his  necessities,  as  the  holy 
women  ministered  of  their  substance  to  the 
Lord. 

Wlien  his  rich  brother  came  to  see  him,  he 
upbraided  him  for  giving  so  much  attention  to  the 
things  of  God,  and  giving  away  so  much  of  his  sub- 
stance for  religious  purposes,  and  subjecting  him- 
self to  poverty,  when,  if  he  had  followed  his  advice 
and  exam])le,  he  might  now  have  been  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  plenty,  instead  of  being,  as  he  termed  it, 
a  burden  to  his  friends. 

With  great  calmness  and  earnestness  the  dying 
saint  replied— waving  his  wasted  hand  toward  his 
poor,  self-deceived  brother:  "Quiet!  quiet! 
Whist,  whist,  Tam  !  I  have  a  kingdom  no 
begun  upon,  and  an  inheritance  that  I  have  na  yet 
seen. " 

Who  was  the  richer  of  the  two  brothers? 

XIII.    TS  THE  NOB r. EST  WORK  OF  GOD. 

(1077.)  Men  can  admire  a  statue  ;  it  is  breathing 
with  hfe,  and  the  fire  of  genius  has  succeeded  in 
imparting  almost  animation  to  the  figure.  Vou  re- 
member that  once  it  was  but  an  unmeaning  block  of 
marble,  but  the  sculptor's  imagination  has  succeeded 
in  portraying  a  man,  and  the  human  face  divine 
meets  your  enraptured  eyes.  You  are  filled  with 
rapture  and  astonishment  at  the  power  of  genius  to 
call  forth  such  a  beautiful  creation  of  art.  And 
have  you  no  eyes  to  see,  nor  heart  to  appreciate,  the 
noble  work  of  God  in  the  new  creation  of  a  soul 
that  was  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins?  That  man 
was  once  a  blank  in  the  creation  of  God  ;  he  was 
spiritually  dead,  but  now  he  has  a  soul  instinct 
with  the  breath  of  heaven,  which  lives  for  its 
Maker,  which  hears  and  obeys  His  voice,  and  beats 
high  with  the  generous  sentiments  of  redeeming 
love.  It  is  a  soul  that  is  restored  to  its  original 
place  in  the  creation,  fulfilling  the  high  purposes  of 
its  God,  and  glowing  with  ardour  to  live  for  His 
honour  and  glory.  It  has  cot,  like  the  statue,  the 
mock   appeal  anre   of    WSt ;  it    is    not   a    beautiful 


illusion  of  your  fancy  which  vanishes  at  one  effort 
of  your  sober  reason.  It  has  not  its  useless  ,ind 
inanimate  form  to  reign  and  hold  its  empire  only 
in  your  imagination.  No !  look  on  it,  it  is  the. 
living  work  of  God  ;  it  has  His  own  resemblance 
imparted  to  it  ;  it  is  immortal,  and  destined  to  run 
an  endless  race  of  glory,  to  the  everlasting  praise  of 
the  infinite  Jehovah  — behold  it— angels  are  enam- 
oured with  it,  and  yet  you,  who  can  break  forth  in 
rapture  at  that  lifeless  statue,  can  see  no  beauty 
here;  no  loveliness  to  draw  forth  your  love; 
no  admiration  of  this  soul  "born  of  God  I " 

XIV.  IS  LORD  OF  THE  WORLD. 

(1078.)  No  one  is  so  truly  master  and  lord  of  this 
world,  as  the  man  to  whom  the  world  is  crucified  in 
Christ ;  no  one,  other  things  being  equal,  has  so 
true  and  exquisite  an  enjoyment  of  tiie  beauties  of 
nature  and  the  bounties  of  Providence  as  the  man 
who  in  his  heart  gives  up  al'.  for  Christ.  So  long 
as  the  soul  is  satisfied  to  aspire  after  any  object  be- 
sides that  Divine  Deing  for  whom  it  was  created, — 
so  long  as  its  deepest  and  choicest  affections  are  set 
upon  created  and  perishable  things, — it  is  like  an 
untuned  viol  in  an  orchestra,  whose  notes  make  dis- 
cord with  all  the  tuneful  strings  around.  But  when 
the  soul  is  yielded  up  to  God,  and  pervaded  with 
His  love,  its  chords  vibrate  in  sweet  harmony  with 
the  breathing,  swelling  chorus  of  nature,  providence, 
and  grace.  — L.  H.   Wisevian. 

XV.  HIS  REAL  WORTH  IS  UNAFFECTED 
BY  ADVERSE  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

(1079. )  A  piece  of  plate  may  become  battered  and 
scratched,  so  that  its  beauty  is  hopelessly  gone,  but 
it  loses  not  its  real  worth  ;  put  it  in.to  the  scale,  and 
its  weight  and  not  its  fashion  shall  be  the  estimate 
of  its  preciousness ;  throw  it  into  the  melting- 
pot,  and  its  purity  will  show  its  actual  value.  So 
there  are  many  outward  circumstances  which  m.ay 
spoil  the  public  repute  in  which  a  Christian  is  held, 
but  his  essential  preciousness  remains  unchanged. 
God  values  him  at  as  high  a  rate  as  ever.  His 
unerring  balance  and  crucible  are  not  guided  by 
appearances.  How  content  may  we  be  to  be  vile 
in  the  sight  of  men  if  we  are  accepted  of  the  Lord  ! 

— Spurg<on. 

XVI.  IS  OF  ALL  MEN  THE  HAPPIEST, 

(loSo.)  The  gracious  person  hath  a  more  curious 
palate,  that  fits  him  to  taste  a  further  sweetness  in, 
and  to  draw  more  pleasure,  from  any  creature  enjoy- 
ment than  an  unholy  person  can  do.  The  tiy 
finds  no  honey  in  the  same  flower  from  whence  the 
bee  goes  laden  away  ;  nor  can  an  unholy  heart  taste 
that  sweetness  which  the  saint  doth  in  a  creature. 
He  hath  indeed  a  natural  fleshly  palate,  wheretiy 
he  relisheth  the  gross  carnal  pleasure  the  creature 
affords,  and  that  he  makes  his  whole  meal  on  ;  but  a 
gracious  heart  tastes  something  more.  All  Isr.-iel 
drank  of  the  rock,  "and  that  rock  was  Christ." 
But  did  all  that  tasted  the  water's  natural  sweetness 
taste  Christ  in  it?  no,  alas,  they  were  but  a  few 
holy  souls  that  had  a  spiritual  palate  to  do  this. 
Sampson's  father  and  mother  ate  of  the  honey  out  of 
the  lion's  carcass,  as  well  as  Sampson,  and  maybe 
liked  the  taste  of  it  for  hnnty  as  well  as  Sampson, 
yet  he  look  more  [ileasure  suie  than  they  ;  he  tasted 
the  sweetness  of  God's  providence  in  it,  that  bad 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     102    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


delivered  him  from  that  very  lion  that  now  affords 
him  this  honey.  — Gitrnall,  1617-1779. 

(loSi.)  Tlie  Christian  has  a  fans  perennis  within 
him.  He  is  satisfied  from  himself.  The  men  of 
the  world  borrow  all  their  joy  from  without.  Joy 
wholly  from  without  is  false,  precarious,  and  short. 
From  without  it  maybe  gathered,  but  like  gathered 
flowers,  though  fair  and  sweet  for  a  season,  it  must 
soon  wither  and  become  offensive.  Joy  from  within 
is  like  smelling  the  rose  on  the  tree,  it  is  more 
sweet  and  fair,  and  I  must  add  it  is  immortal. 

— Salter. 

(10S2.)  A  drowning  man,  plucked  from  the  jaws 
of  death,  is  hap]iy  with  three  feet  of  bare  rock 
beneath  him  ;  haiipier  than  others  with  thousands 
of  broad  acres.  The  wrecked,  borne  shoreward  in 
the  life-boat  that  is  making  for  the  land  through 
roaring  seas  and  winter  storms,  are  happier  than 
]",gypt's  queen  when  the  sun  gleamed  on  her  golden 
galley,  and  silken  sails  swelled  in  the  summer 
breeze,  and  the  world's  great  conqueror  knelt  a 
suitor  at  her  feet.  And  there  is  no  humble  Chris- 
tian, no  lover  of  Jesus,  but  is  hajipier  with  the  hope 
of  heaven,  with  Christ  in  him  "  the  hope  of  glory," 
than  the  men  of  the  world  when  their  coin  and 
their  wine  do  most  aboimd  ;  and  all  things  go  well 
with  them.  Though  a  beggar,  the  child  of  God 
parts  not  with  that  hope  for  all  the  wisdom  and  the 
wealth  of  Solomon.  To  get  within  that  blessed 
door  ;  to  have  a  place,  not  nearest  the  king,  but  on 
the  outside  of  the  circle  around  the  throne  ;  to  bear 
the  lowest  title  among  heaven's  nobles  ;  to  be  the 
weakest  child  of  God's  family,  the  humblest  servant 
in  Christ's  house,  the  dimmest,  smallest  jewel  in 
His  crown,  the  least,  and  less  than  the  least,  of  all 
saints,  is  a  hope  that  sets  the  heart  a-singing — 
"  Transported  with  the  view,  I'm  lost 
In  wonder,  love,  and  praise." 

—  Gtithrie. 

(1083.)  What  a  glorious  prescription,  "  Rejoice 
."•vermore  ! "  Christianity  is  not  a  sepulchral  thing, 
^i  gloomy  life,  a  de]5ressed  condition  of  social 
existence.  It  is  impossible  that  it  can  be  so  as  the 
world  brands  it,  with  such  a  prescription  as  this 
from  an  apostle's  lips,  "  Rejoice  evermore.''  True, 
the  Christian  has  his  sorrows  ;  but  these  are  not 
unsweetened.  True,  the  Christian  life  has  its 
shadows  and  its  showers  ;  but  these  are  not  un- 
mingled  with  bright  beams  of  heavenly  light  ;  and 
the  saddest  aspects  of  a  Christian's  daily  life  are  but 
the  April  showers  of  spring  that  usher  in  the 
approaching  bright  and  beautiful  summer — the  ever- 
lasting and  tlie  heavenly  sunshine.  Christian  life 
is  not  a  penance,  as  the  Romanist  thinks  it,  but  a 
privilege,  as  God  describes  it.  it  is  not  a  reluctant 
sacrifice  wrung  from  us,  but  a  joyous  and  free-will 
offering  gladly  and  gratefully  rendered  by  us.  And 
therefore  the  light  of  our  life  is  not  a  dim,  but  a 
bright  religious  life.  The  injunction  of  our  apostles 
is,  "  Rejoice  always ; "  and  the  prayer  of  the 
apostle's  Lord,  "That  my  peace  may  remain  in 
you  ;  "  and  again,  "  That  my  joy  may  abide  in  you, 
and  that  your  joy  may  be  full."  And  Peter,  catch- 
ing up  the  thoughts  of  his  Lord  still  shining  with 
undiminished  lustre  on  the  leaves  of  memory, 
answers  in  his  Epistle,  "  Whom,  having  not  seen, 
we  love  ;  in  whom,  though  now  we  see  Him  not, 
yet  believing,  wc  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and 
fuii  of  gluiy."     And  the  apostle  Paul,  echoing  the 


same  grand  sentiment,  says,  "  We  joy  in  God. 
Rejoice  ;  and  again  I  say.  Rejoice."  This  showj 
us,  that  of  all  happy  men  upon  earth  the  Christian 
should  be  happiest.  His  sorrows  come  from  sin, 
his  griefs  spring  from  evil  ;  his  sunshine,  his  glad- 
ness, and  his  joy  are  the  spontaneous  and  moral 
elements  of  his  true  Christian  and  holy  life. 

—  Cii  mining, 

(10S4.)  No  man  knows  half  the  fulness  of  his 
own  being  until  inspired  to  a  Christian  life.  If 
you  will  walk  with  me  in  January  over  the  fertile 
places  in  the  fields,  and  tlirough  the  forests,  you 
will  see  what  man  is  in  his  natural  state.  The  earth 
is  full  of  roots,  not  one  of  which  knows  how  to  live. 
The  trees  are  full  of  buds,  eveiy  one  of  which  is 
closed  and  bandaged  so  that  it  cannot  expand.  All 
things  are  populous,  but  all  things  are  curdled, 
conijealed,  restrained.  Although,  in  his  natural 
state,  man  is  full  of  high,  godlike  powers,  yet  they 
are  in  a  condition  of  bondage  and  inactivity  ;  and 
the  coming  of  religion  to  him  is  like  the  coming  of 
spring  to  the  soil  and  the  forests,  when  all  things 
begin  to  grow.  When  a  man  attains  some  degree 
of  lipeness  in  his  spiritual  nature,  he  may  be  likened 
to  the  fields  and  the  forests  in  midsummer  ;  and 
when  he  has  passed  through  life  under  the  stimulat- 
ing influences  of  religion,  he  may  be  likened  to 
plants  and  trees  in  autumn,  when  they  yield  their 
fruit  in  exceeding  abundance,  and  in  a  state  of 
perfect  ripeness,  — Backer, 

XVII.    THE  COMFORT  OF  SINCERITY. 

(1085.)  What  we  want  to  be  is  not  to  look  Chris- 
tians, or  to  pretend  Clnistians,  or  to  profess  Chris- 
tians, but  to  be  Christians.  You  need  not  then  so 
carefully  guard  yourself,  you  need  not  be  on  the 
ceaseless  watch  what  you  do.  Take  an  anagram  ; 
read  it  from  the  right  or  from  the  left,  or  from  the 
top  or  from  the  bottom  ;  it  reads  the  same  thing. 
Take  a  Christian,  look  at  him  at  one  angle,  or  look 
at  another  angle,  look  at  him  in  any  light  or  in  any 
direction,  and  he  is  a  Christian  still.  The  great 
secret  of  getting  rid  of  a  vast  amount  of  trouble  and 
inconvenience,  is  being  a  Christian  ;  and  when  yor 
are  a  Christian  your  eye  will  be  single,  your  body 
will  be  full  of  light,  and  all  influences,  sanctified  and 
blessed  by  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  will  be  sanctify- 
ing, and  will  bless  all  that  are  connected  with  you. 

— Ciimmmg. 

(1086.)  Up  to  a  certain  point,  being  a  true  Chris- 
tian is  a  terrible  thing.  The  advantage  lies  in 
carrying  it  far  beyond  that  point  where  fruit  is  to 
be  reaped.  As  long  as  the  nights  are  long  and  the 
days  are  short  we  have  the  stern  certainties  of 
winter  ;  as  long  as  the  days  are  long  and  the  nights 
are  short  we  have  the  sweet,  precious,  genial  hours 
of  summer  ;  but  when  the  days  and  the  nights  are 
just  about  alike,  and  the  eqiiinox  comes  on,  and 
light  and  darkness  strive  for  the  mastery,  that  is  the 
time  for  storms  to  rage.  And  so,  in  Christian 
experience,  so  long  as  the  night  is  longest,  you  have 
the  peace  of  darkness  ;  and  when  the  day  is  longest, 
you  have  the  peace  of  light  ;  but  when  the  night 
and  the  day  are  of  about  the  same  length,  and  they 
strive  to  see  which  shall  rule,  that  is  the  time  for 
storms.  The  hardest  way  to  live  is  to  be  half  a 
Christian  and  half  a  sinner.  The  easiest  way  to  live 
is  to  be  wholly  a  sinner  or  wholly  a  Christian. 
Harmonise  on  one  side  or  the  other,  if  you  want 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


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CHRISTIAN.     THE 


quiet.     Take  the  middle  ground,  if  you  want  per- 
petual gales.  — Biecher. 

XVIII.  HIS  KNOWLEDGE  OF  DIVINE 
THINGS. 

(1087.)  A  faithful  man  hath  three  eyes  :  the  first, 
of  sense,  common  to  him  with  brute  creatures  ;  the 
second,  of  reason,  common  to  all  men  ;  the  third,  of 
faith,  proper  to  his  profession  ;  whereof  each  look- 
eth  beyond  tht  other  ;  and  none  of  them  meddleth 
with  the  others'  objects.  For,  neither  doth  the  eye 
of  sense  reach  to  intelligible  things  and  matters  of 
discourse,  nor  the  eye  of  reason  to  those  things 
which  are  supernatural  and  spiritual  ;  neither  doth 
faith  look  down  to  things  that  may  be  sensibly  seen. 
If  thou  discourse  to  a  brute  beast  of  the  depths  of 
philosophy  never  so  plainly,  he  understands  not  ; 
because  they  are  beyond  the  view  of  his  eye,  which 
is  only  of  sense  :  if  to  a  mere  carnal  man,  of  divine 
things  ;  he  perceiveth  not  the  things  of  God,  neither 
indeed  can  do  ;  because  they  are  spiritually  discerned ; 
and,  therefore,  no  wonder  if  those  things  seem  un- 
likely, incredible,  impossible  to  him,  which  the 
faithful  man,  having  a  proportionable  means  of 
apprehension,  doth  as  plainly  see  as  his  eye  doth 
any  sensible  thing.  Tell  a  plain  countryman  that 
the  sun  or  some  higher  or  lesser  star  is  much  bigger 
than  his  cart  wheel ;  or,  at  least  so  many  scores 
bigger  than  the  whole  earth ;  he  laughs  thee  to 
scorn,  as  affecting  admiration  with  a  learned  un- 
truth. Yet  the  scholar,  by  the  eye  of  reason,  doth 
as  plainly  see  and  acknov/ledge  this  truth,  as  that 
his  hand  is  bigger  than  his  pen.  What  a  thick  mist, 
yea  what  a  palpable  and  more  than  Egyptian  dark- 
ness, doth  the  natural  man  live  in  !  What  a  world 
is  there  that  he  doth  not  see  at  all  !  and  how  little 
doth  he  see  in  this,  which  is  his  proper  element  ! 
There  is  no  bodily  thing,  but  the  brute  creatures  see 
S5  well  as  he  ;  and  some  of  them  better.  As  for  his 
eye  of  reason,  how  dim  is  it  in  those  things  which 
are  best  fitted  to  it?  What  one  thing  is  there  in 
nature  which  he  doth  pefectly  know  ?  what  herb, 
or  flower,  or  worm  that  he  treads  on,  is  there,  whose 
true  essence  he  knoweth  ?  No  not  so  much  as  what  is 
in  his  own  bosom  ;  what  it  is,  where  it  is,  or  whence 
it  is  that  gives  being  to  himself.  But  for  those 
things  which  concern  the  best  world,  he  doth  not  so 
THuch  as  confusedly  see  them  ;  neither  knoweth 
whether  they  be.  He  sees  no  whit  into  the  great 
and  awful  Majesty  of  God.  He  discerns  Him  not 
in  all  His  creatures  filling  the  world  with  His  in- 
finite and  glorious  presence.  He  sees  not  His  wise 
providence,  overruling  all  things,  disposing  all 
casual  events,  ordering  all  sinful  actions  of  men  to 
His  own  glory.  He  comprehends  nothing  of  the 
beauty,  majesty,  power,  and  mercy  of  the  Saviour  of 
the  world,  sitting  in  the  Humanity  at  His  Father's 
right  hand.  He  sees  not  the  unspeakable  happiness 
of  the  glorified  souls  of  the  saints.  He  sees  not  the 
whole  heavenly  commonwealth  of  angels  ;  ascend- 
ing and  descending  to  the  school  of  God's  children, 
waiting  upon  them  at  all  times  invisibly  ;  not  ex- 
cluded by  the  closeness  of  prisons  nor  desolateness 
of  wildernesses  ;  and  the  multitude  of  evil  spirits, 
passing  and  standing  by  them,  to  tempt  them  unto 
liyil  ;  but,  like  unto  the  foolish  bird  when  he  hath 
hid  his  head  that  he  sees  nobody,  he  thinks  himself 
altogether  unseen  ;  and  then  counts  himself  solitary, 
when  his  eye  can  meet  w'th  no  companion.  It  was 
not   without   cause,    that   we   call   a   mere   fool   a 


natural :  for  however  worldlings  have  still  thought 
Christians  God's  fools,  we  know  them  the  fools  o( 
the  world.  The  deepest  philosopher  thaf  ever  was, 
saving  tiie  reverence  of  the  schools,  is  but  an  ignorant 
sot  to  the  simplest  Christian  ;  (or  the  wpakeU 
Christian  may,  by  plain  information,  see  seme  what 
into  the  greatest  mysteries  of  nature,  because  he  hath 
the  eye  of  reason  common  with  the  best ;  but  the 
best  philosopher  by  all  the  demonstrations  in  the 
world,  can  conceive  nothing  of  the  mysteries  of 
godliness,  because  he  utterly  wants  the  eye  of  faith. 
Though  my  insight  into  matters  of  the  world  be  so 
shallow  that  my  simplicity  moveth  pity,  or  maketli 
sport  unto  others,  it  shall  be  my  contentment  and 
happiness  that  I  see  further  into  better  matters. 
That  which  I  see  not  is  worthless,  and  deserves 
little  better  than  contempt ;  that  which  I  see  is 
unspeakable,  inestimable,  for  comfort,  for  glory. 
— Hall,  1514-1656. 

XIX.  IS  CERTAIN  TO  COMMAND  RESPECT. 

(1088.)  There  is  something  in  a  holy  life  which 
wonderfully  conciliates  the  minds  of  men.  At 
first,  indeed,  like  a  strong  influx  of  light,  it  offends 
their  eyes  ;  and  the  beholders,  unable  to  bear  the 
effulgence  of  its  beams,  turn  away  from  it,  or 
perhaps  desire  its  utter  extinction.  But  when  it 
has  shone  for  a  long  time  before  them,  and  they 
have  had  suflicient  o]iportunity  to  contemplate  its 
worth,  they  are  constrained  to  acknowledge,  that 
"The  righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his  neigh- 
bour ; "  and  they  begin  to  venerate  the  character, 
whose  virtues  at  first  were  occasions  of  offence. 

— Simeon. 

XX.  HIS  INFLUENCE  FOR  GOOD. 

(1089.)  He  who  is  godly  is  both  a  diamond 
and  a  loadstone  ;  a  diamond  for  the  sparkling  of  his 
grace  ;  and  a  loadstone,  for  his  attractive  virtue  in 
drawing  others  to  the  love  of  God's  precepts. 

—  Watso7i,  1696. 

(1090.)  Experienced  Christians  have  told  me  that 
they  were  not  so  much  convinced  by  a  preacher,  or 
a  book,  as  by  a  fact  :  that  they  marked,  and  ke]it 
their  eye  on,  some  humble,  u]iright,  pious  Chris- 
tian, living  above  the  world,  while  greatly  tried  in 
it,  and  demonstrating  that  he  was  an  overcomer  of 
the  world  by  the  principle  of  grace  within  him. 

— Cecil,  1 748-1 810. 

(1091.)  "Let  your  light  shine."  If  the  sun 
shines  on  a  dull  brick  or  stone,  they  reflect  none  of 
its  beams;  there  is  nothing  in  them  cajiable  of 
this  ;  nor  is  there  in  an  ungodly  man  any  natural 
power  of  reflecting  the  light  of  God.  But  let  the 
sun  shine  upon  a  diamond,  and  see  what  rays  of 
sparkling  beauty  it  emits.  Just  so  the  Christian, 
who  has  the  grace  of  the  Spirit  ;  when  God  shines 
on  his  soul,  beams  of  celestial  loveliness  are 
reflected  by  him  on  the  world.  — Salter. 

(1092).  There  is  ever  a  fresh  fragrance  flowing 
from  the  rose  of  Sharon,  increasing  in  sweetness  : 
so  is  it  with  the  Christian,  whose  heart  is  filled 
with  love  to  Christ,  because  he  is  of  one  spirit  wiih 
Christ.  There  is  a  holy  atmosphere,  as  it  were, 
about  him.  Wherever  he  goes,  he  is  a  blessing,  lie 
is  like  a  fragrant  flower  brought  into  a  room,  the 
refreshing  odour  of  which  difiuses  itself  among  aU 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     19-t    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


the  company.      He  is   like  the    sandal   tree,  which 
diffuses  its  fragrance  to  everything  that  touches  it. 

— Salter. 

(1093.)  For  the  purpose  of  teaching  a  truth  that 
should  inspire  and  animate  our  prayers,  God  has 
often  wrought  out  His  ends  by  most  unlikely  means. 
There  are  objects  in  nature  not  less  astonishing 
for  the  smallness  of  the  worker  than  the  greatness 
of  the  work.  Such  are  the  coral  walls  around  those 
lovely  isles  thai,  carpeted  with  flowers,  clothed 
with  palms,  and  enjoying  an  everlasting  summer, 
lie  scattered  like  gems  on  the  bosom  of  the  Pacific. 
These,  with  the  ocean  roaring  in  its  fury  before 
them,  and  behind  them  the  lagoon  lying  like  a 
molten  mirror  broken  only  by  the  dash  of  a  sea- 
bird  or  the  dip  of  a  passing  oar,  are  stupendous 
ramparts.  Compared  to  them  our  greatest  break- 
waters dwindle  into  insignificance.  One  of  these 
reefs  off  the  coast  of  New  Holland  is  a  thousand  miles 
in  length,  and  how  many  hundred  feet  in  depth  I 
know  not  :  yet  the  masons  that  build  these  are 
creatures  so  small  as  to  be  almost  invisible.  Such 
mighty  works  does  God  accomplish  by  instruments 
so  mean  !  a  sight  that  helps  a  believer — though  he 
has  to  say  with  Nehemiah,  "  I  have  a  great  work 
to  do  " — to  take  heart  anfl  hope,  and  say  with 
Paul,  "  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  which 
strengtheneth  me."  — Guthne. 

(1094.)  His  works  often  follow  a  good  man  in 
this  world. 

Let  me  illustrate  this  by  an  example.  An  ex- 
tensive tract  of  country  in  one  of  our  distant 
colonies  was  occupied  many  years  ago  by  forests, 
where  the  traveller  found  only  the  scantiest  means 
of  subsistence.  It  was  inaccessible  to  all  but  the 
few  savages  who  roamed  its  gloomy  solitudes.  It 
is  no  longer  so.  Beautiful  and  huit-bearing  trees 
now  occupy  the  forest  glades,  and,  providing  abun- 
dance of  nutritious  food,  have  opened  up  the 
country  to  civilised  man,  and  to  its  savage  tribes 
the  blessed  influences  of  the  Gospel.  It  was  thus 
the  change  was  brought  about,  as  I  have  read  or 
remember  the  story.  Long  years  ago  there  lived 
there  a  devout  man,  one  who  had  left  his  native 
land,  but  not,  like  many  others,  the  profession  of 
its  religion  behind.  Animated  with  love  to  Christ 
and  an  eager  desire  to  save  souls,  he  was  wont  to 
leave  the  settlement  and  penetrate  those  forests 
to  carry  the  Gospel  to  their  wandering  tribes. 
Ever  aiming  at  doing  good,  nor  confining  himself, 
as  is  the  habit  of  some,  to  one  way  of  doing  it,  he 
sought,  Christ-like,  to  benefit  the  bodies  as  well 
as  the  souls  of  men.  So  on  leaving  home  he  was 
accustomed,  beside  his  Bible,  to  carry  a  store  of 
the  stony  seeds  of  those  trees  that  now  bless  and 
beautify  the  country ;  and  though,  exposed  to 
perish  of  famine  or  fall  by  the  club  of  the  savage, 
he  might  never  live  to  see  them  blossom,  ever  and 
anon,  as  he  emerged  into  a  sunny  glade,  he  planted 
a  seed,  leaving  it  to  the  care  of  God,  the  dews,  and 
showers  of  rain.  And  now,  t'nough  his  bones  have 
long  mouldered  into  dust,  in  trees  that  bear 
beauty  in  their  blossoms  and  life  in  their  fruit, 
his  works,  done  with  prayer  to  God  and  from  love 
to  man  are  still  following  him  on  earth.  While 
others,  who  lived  to  enrich  themselves  and  accu- 
mulate fortunes  that  have  sunk  amid  the  wreck 
of  time,  are  forgotten,  this  good  man's  memory, 
like  these  trees,  'blo.ssoms  in  perennial  oeauiy.     He 


has  his  name  inscribed,  not  on  a  mouldering  tomb- 
stone amid  emblems  of  decay,  but  on  the  ever- 
living  face  of  nature,  and  on  the  hearts  of  grateful 
generations  diat  sit  under  the  shadow  of  his  piety 
and  enjoy  its  fruits. 

Even  so  by  labours  accomplished  in  the  spi- 
ritual field  the  Christian  may  live  after  he  is  dead. 
Leaving  behind  them  works  which  shall  continue 
for  ages  to  preserve  their  memory  and  follow  them 
here,  many  through  their  good  words,  though 
dead,  are  yet  speaking,  —  through  their  good 
works,  though  dead,  are  yet  working.  There  is 
no  good  work  or  word,  indeed,  but  contains  a  germ 
of  immortality,  and  may  produce  results  God  only 
has  a  mind  to  measure.  Like  the  tiny  stream, 
which  small  and  shallow  where  it  leaves  its  cradle, 
grows  as  it  goes,  till,  fed  by  many  tributaries,  it 
at  length  swells  into  a  river  that,  sweeping  by 
the  lands  of  many  tribes,  and  bearing  the  sails  of 
many  nations  on  its  bosom  like  the  Amazon  or 
Mississippi,  makes  its  floods  felt  far  out  from 
shore,  freshening  the  briny  sea,  good  words  have 
been  spoken,  and  good  works  done  that  have  grown 
from  small  beginnings  into  incalculable  import- 
ance. Living  through  long  periods  of  the  world's 
hisloiy,  they  carry  their  blessed  influences  far 
beyond  the  land  of  their  birth,  even  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth.  In  proof  of  this  let  me  adduce  two 
remarkable  examples,  namely.  Sabbath  schools, 
and  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society. 

— Guthrie, 

(1095.)  The  influence  of  the  Christian  on  pos- 
terity is  undying.  His  kind  words,  like  his  good 
deeds,  can  never  die.  He  who  has  grown  like  a 
cedar  in  Lebanon  will,  like  the  cedar,  long  after  it 
is  cut  down,  send  forth  a  sweet  fragrance. 

— PearsalU 

XXI.    HIS  RELA  TION  TO  THE  LA  IV. 

(1096.)  [On  a  cancelled  bond.'\  While  this 
obligation  was  in  force,  I  was  in  servitude  to  my 
parchment ;  my  bond  was  double  to  a  payment,  to 
a  penalty :  now,  that  is  discharged,  what  is  it 
better  than  a  waste  scroll  ;  regarded  for  nothing, 
but  the  witness  of  its  own  voidance  and  nullity  ? 

Nor  otherwise  is  it  with  the  severe  law  of  my 
Creator.  Out  of  Christ,  it  stands  in  full  force  ; 
and  binds  me  over,  either  to  perfect  obedience 
which  I  cannot  possibly  perform,  or  to  e.\quisite 
torment  and  eternal  death  which  I  am  never  able 
to  endure.  But  now  that  my  Saviour  hath 
fastened  it  cancelled  to  His  Cross,  in  respect  of  the 
rigour  and  malediction  of  it,  I  look  upon  it  as  the 
moment  of  my  past  danger  and  bondage  :  I  know 
by  it  how  much  was  owed  by  me  ;  how  much  was 
paid  for  me.  The  direction  of  it  is  everlasting  :  the 
obligation  by  it  unto  death  is  frustrated.  I  am  free 
from  curse,  who  never  can  be  free  from  obedience. 
O  Saviour,  take  Thou  glory,  and  give  me  peace. 
— Hall,  1 574-1656. 

(1097.)  As  tnere  is  need  of  no  law  to  compel  the 
body  to  eat  or  drink,  to  digest,  to  sleep,  to  go,  to 
stand,  to  sit,  or  to  do  the  works  of  nature,  for  it  is 
ready  to  do  them  of  itself  when  the  case  so  requir- 
eth,  without  respect  either  of  reward  or  punishment, 
and  may  not  unjustly  be  said,  as  concerning  these 
things,  not  to  be  under  a  law  :  even  so,  after  the 
same  sort  altogether,  doth  the  godly  man  behave 
hmiseif  concerning  the  works  of  godliness.      He  is 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     195     ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


carried  to  the  doing  of  them  by  his  new  nature, 
which  is  of  the  Spirit,  albeit  there  were  no  law 
at  all,  and  all,  both  hope  of  reward  and  fear  of 
punishment,  were  taken  away. 

— Cawdray,  1 598- 1 664. 

XXII.  HJS  SAFETY. 

(109S  )  A  Christian  lives  in  two  worlds  at  one 
iiA  th{  same  time — the  world  of  flesh  and  the 
world  of  spirit.  It  is  possible  to  do  both.  There 
are  certain  dangerous  gases,  which  from  their 
weight  fill  to  the  lower  part  of  the  place  where 
they  are,  making  it  destructive  for  a  dog  to  enter, 
but  safe  for  a  man  who  holds  his  head  erect.  A 
Christian,  as  living  in  the  world  of  flesh,  is  con- 
stantly passing  through  these.  Let  him  keep  his 
head  erect  in  the  spiritual  world,  and  he  is  safe. 
He  does  this  so  long  as  the  Son  of  God  is  the 
Fountain  whence  he  draws  his  inspiration,  his 
motives,  encouragement,  and  strength. 

—  George  Philip. 

(1099.)  A  terrific  tempest  swept  along  ;  the  force 
of  which  rent  dwellings,  uprooted  trees,  and  spread 
devastation  and  ruin  on  every  siile.  And  the 
roaring  sea  rose  in  huge  waves,  which  rolled  with 
angry  violence  upon  the  great  rocks  as  though  they 
would  hurl  them  from  their  foundations.  On  tlie 
foaming  billows  a  little  creature  was  washed 
about ;  sometimes  upon  the  crest  of  the  mountain 
wave,  and  then  far  down  in  the  trough  of  tlie 
briny  deep.  Still  it  rose  from  its  partial  sub- 
mersion ;  it  was  tossed  about  terribly,  but  never 
lost  utterly  ;  hidden  sometimes,  and  then  re-appear- 
ing !  Could  it  not  be  rent  asunder  like  the  great 
dwellings,  or  torn  to  pieces  like  the  great  trees,  or 
destroyed  with  the  destruction  which  cast  strong- 
holds into  ruins  ?  No,  it  was  so  light,  so  buoyant, 
that  it  could  not  sink  into  the  deep  waters  ;  so  it 
lived  till  the  storm  was  no  more,  and  then  floated 
in  a  calm  and  tranquil  haven.  It  was  a  little  cork, 
which  no  floods  can  possibly  drown. 

Love  to  God  is  assailed  by  every  force  of  sin  and 
temptation;  but  "many  waters  cannot  quench 
love,  neither  can  the  floods  drown  it."  Grace 
survives  every  sorrow  ;  and  from  the  last  tempest 
of  death  it  will  arise  in  its  Divine  life  to  repose  in 
the  place  where  "the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
and  the  weary  be  at  rest."  — Bowden. 

XXIII.  AN  EXILE. 

(l  100.)  Here  we  are  like  branches  torn  from  their 
stem  ;  like  strangers  wandering  in  a  foreign  land  ; 
lil^e  fettered  captives  in  a  prison,  waiting  their 
deliverance  ;  like  children,  banished  for  a  time  from 
their  paternal  inheritance  and  mansion  ;  in  a  word, 
like  members  separated  from  their  body. 

— Massillon. 

(iioi.)  The  believer,  living  in  this  world,  re- 
sembles the*  son  of  a  great  king  whom  some  sad 
event  tore  from  his  royal  parent  in  his  cradle  ;  who 
knows  his  parent  only  by  the  fame  of  his  virtues  ; 
who  has  always  a  difficult  and  often  an  intercepted 
correspondence  with  his  parent  ;  whose  remittances 
and  favours  from  his  parent  are  always  diminished 
by  the  hands  through  which  ihey  come  to  him. 
V  .tlr  what  transport  would  such  a  son  meet  the 
.noment  appointed  by  his  father  for  his  return  to 
his  natural  state  1  — iiuurtn. 


XXIV.  A  PILGRIM. 

(1102.)  If  men  have  been  termed  pilgrims,  and 
life  a  journey,  then  we  may  add  that  the  Christian 
pilgrimage  far  surpasses  all  others  in  the  following 
important  particulars  :  in  the  goodness  of  the  road 
— in  the  beauty  of  the  prospects — in  the  excellence 
of  the  company — and  in  the  vast  superiority  of  the 
accommodation  provided  for  the  Christian  traveller 
when  he  has  finished  his  course.    — Col  ton,  1832. 

XXV.  HIS  ASP  IRA  TIONS. 

(1103.)  A  Christian  who  is  pure  is  upon  earth 
like  a  bird  that  is  kept  fastened  down  by  a  string. 
Poor  little  bird  !  it  only  waits  for  the  moment  when 
the  string  is  cut  to  fly  away.  —  Viamiey. 

(1104.)  A  good  Christian  ought  not  to  be  able 
to  endure  himself  in  this  world  ;  he  languishes  on 
earth.  If  a  little  child  were  down  there  in  the 
cliurch,  and  its  mother  was  in  the  tribune,  it  would 
stretch  out  its  little  arms  to  her  and  if  it  could  not 
get  up  the  staircase  leading  to  her,  it  would  ask  for 
help,  and  would  not  rest  till  it  was  in  its  mother's 
arms.  —  Viatmey. 

XXVI.  THE  PRIZE  THAT  IS  SET  BEFORE 
HIM. 

(1105.)  What  a  glorious  prize  is  this  set  before 
us — what  a  glorious  incentive  for  our  immortal 
energies  !  Life  !  the  only  thing  worth  calling  life 
— the  life  of  God  in  the  soul — a  life  whose  infancy 
is  on  earth,  and  its  perfected  manhood  in  heaven. 
What  is  there  worthy  of  aspiration  in  comparison 
with  this?  What  though  other  earthly  blessings 
be  wanting,  if  you  have  this  everlasting  possession  ? 
What  though  outward  things  may  elude  your  grasp, 
and  perish  in  the  very  using,  if  you  have  "  the 
better  part  "  which  is  indestructible  ?  What  would 
the  sculptor  care  though  his  packing-case  be  broken, 
if  the  priceless  marble  group  which  it  contains 
escape  uninjured  ?  What  would  the  mother  care 
though  her  cradle  be  burnt  in  the  flaming  house,  if 
her  living  child,  her  living  treasure  be  spared  ? 
What  though  the  thief  have  escaped  with  the  casket, 
if  the  jewel  remain?  "Let  the  movables  go," 
says  a  good  man,  "  the  inheritance  is  ours  !  "  Be 
indifferent  to  what  the  world  gives  or  withholds. 
Learn  that  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abun- 
dance of  the  things  which  'he  posse>seth.  Life  is 
not,  as  the  world  estimates  it,  composed  of  wealth, 
riches,  honours,  possessions ;  these  are  but  the 
accidents  of  life — the  outer  shell — the  perishable 
and  corroding  gilding.  But  it  is  the  inner  wealth 
of  peace  with  God — the  assurance  of  His  love — a 
pure  heart,  a  peaceful  conscience,  the  humble  hope 
of  eternal  fellowship  and  communion  with  Hiin 
above.  — Alacdiijf. 

XXVII.  THE  TRIUMPH  THAT  All^AITS 
HIM. 

(1106.)  When  the  Olympic  combatant  had  nobly 
sustained  the  conflict,  and  achieved  the  victory,  a 
thousand  joys  awaited  him,  and  a  thousand  honours 
were  heaped  upon  his  head  ;  such  as  in  one  short 
day  repaid  him  for  privations,  hardships,  and  toils, 
numberless  and  apparently  intolerable.  The  year 
was  called  by  his  name.  That  name  was  sounded 
amidst  the  clangour  of  trumpets  and  the  sweeter 
strains,   whether  of  the  warbling  flute  or  of  thai 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     '96    ) 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


living  lyre  which  it  was  given  to  the  minstrelsy  of 
Greece  alone  to  waken  into  music.  It  was  inscribed 
on  monuments,  and  emblazoned  in  tronhies,  and 
entwined  witli  fairest  emblems.  Henceforth  he  was 
the  child,  not  of  his  family,  but  of  the  Stale.  His 
future  patrimony  was  the  common  treasure  of  his 
rejoicing  country.  As  he  advanced  within  the 
city  of  his  birth,  the  very  walls  were  levelled  to 
admit  his  chariot.  The  loftiest  gates  and  proudest 
columns,  which  told  of  the  glory  and  the  joy  of 
other  days,  were  deemed  unworthy  to  receive  him. 
A  new  untrodden  path  was  opened,  to  signalise 
and  to  welcome  his  approach.  And  thus,  preceded 
by  heralds,  lighted  by  torches,  and  attended  by 
the  rush  of  his  applauding  fellow  citizens,  did  he 
make  his  joyous  return  to  the  home  of  his  child- 
hood and  the  habitation  of  his  fathers.  Never, 
perhaps, '  amidst  the  annals  of  mankind,  was  a 
scene  more  fraught  with  all  that  could  captivate 
the  senses,  or  rejoice  the  heart.  Never  was  a  gloiy 
more  exalted,  or  a  bliss  more  sweet.  But  what  is 
this  compared  with  the  triumph  of  the  Christian 
conqueror,  when  he  shall  have  run  not  an  earthly 
but  a  heavenly  race  ;  when  he  shall  break  from 
the  grasp,  not  of  mortal  but  infernal  antagonists  ; 
when  he  shall  have  "  fought  the  good  fight,  and 
finished  his  course,  and  kept  the  faith,  and  hence- 
forth there  is  laid  up  for  him,"  not  a  perishable 
garland,  but  a  deathless  crown — "that  crown  of 
righteousness  that  fadeth  not  away ! "  What  is 
even  this,  however  dazzling  or  however  rapturous, 
compared  with  the  gloi-y  of  that  day,  when  thus 
"  an  entrance  shall  be  administered  unto  him 
abundantlv  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  ! "  —M'Ail. 

XX  VI 11.     THE  WISDOM  OF  HIS  CHOICE. 

( 1 107. )  It  is  not  much  that  the  good  man  ventures  : 
after  this  life,  if  there  be  no  God,  he  is  as  well  as 
the  bad  ;  but  if  there  be  a  God,  is  infinitely  better  ; 
even  as  much  as  unspeakable  and  eternal  happiness 
is  better  than  extreme  and  endless  misery. 

—  'Jtllotson,  1630-1694. 

(iioS.)  Indisputably,  the  firm  believers  in  the 
gospel  have  a  great  advantage  over  all  others, — for 
this  simple  reason,  that  if  true,  they  will  have  their 
rewar<i  hereafter  ;  and  if  there  be  no  hereafter,  they 
can  be  but  with  the  infidel  in  his  eternal  sleep,  having 
had  the  assistance  of  an  exalted  hope  through  life, 
without  subsequent  disappointment,  since  (at  the 
worst  of  them)  "out  of  nothing  nothing  can  arise," 
not  even  sorrow.  — J^oi-d  Byroti : 

Letter  to  J.  Shepherd,  Pisa,  Dec.  8,  1 82 1. 

XXIX.    HIS  DEATH. 

(1109.)  It  is  storied  of  Godfrey,  Duke  of  Bouillon, 
that  when,  in  that  his  expedition  to  the  Holy  Land, 
he  came  within  view  of  Jerusalem,  his  army,  seeing 
the  high  turrets,  goodly  buildings,  and  fair  fronts 
(though  but,  as  it  were,  as  so  many  skeletons  of  far 
more  glorious  bodies),  being  even  transported  with 
the  joyfulness  of  such  a  sight,  gave  a  mighty  shout, 
vhat  the  earth  was  verily  thought  to  ring  with  the 
noise  thereof.  Such  is  tb.e  rejoicing  of  a  godly  man 
m  death,  when  he  doth  not  see  the  turrets  and  towers 
of  an  earthly,  but  the  spiritual  building  of  a  heavenly 
lerusaiem,  c^nd  his  soul  ready  to  take  possession  of 
ihem.  How  doth  he  delight  in  his  dissolution, 
especially  when  he  sees  grace  changing  into  gloy, 


hope  into  fruition,  faith  into  vision,  and  love  into 
perfect  comprehension  !  Such  and  so  great  ai«  the 
exultations  of  his  spirit,  such  mighty  workings  and 
shoutings  of  the  heart,  as  cannot  be  expressed  ! 

— Spencer,  1658. 

(mo).  It  is  our  happiness,  as  Christians,  thai 
however  we  may  change  our  place,  we  shall  never 
change  our  object.  Whatever  we  lose,  we  shall  not 
lose  that  which  we  esteem  "better  than  life."  God 
has  made  to  us  this  gracious  promise — "  I  will 
dwell  in  them,  and  walk  in  them."  And  though 
we  may  endure  much  affliction,  and  pass  througli 
many  deep  waters,  yet  this  is  our  honour  and  com- 
fort^" The  Lord  is  with  us  !"  And  then,  what  is 
difficulty? — what  is  tribulation? — what  is  death  ? — 
Death  to  a  Christian  is  but  an  entrance  into  the  city 
of  God  !  it  is  but  joining  a  more  blessed  company, 
and  singing  in  a  more  exalted  strain  than  he  can  do 
in  this  world.  — Cecil,  1 748-1810. 

(nil.)  That  death  which  men  dread  is  to  them 
swallowed  up  in  victory.  It  is  but  the  passing 
shadow  between  faith  and  sight,  hope  and  full 
fruition,  transient  and  transparent  as  the  last  filmy 
cloud  that  veils  for  a  moment  the  sunrise.  The 
chamber  of  death  is  none  other  than  the  house  of 
God  and  the  very  gate  of  heaven.  Oh,  the  dying 
of  the  Christian  is  not  a  fading  away ;  it  is  an 
apotheosis,  a  transfiguration,  a  bursting  into  blossom. 
It  is  a  triumph,  and  not  a  sadness.  It  is  like  the 
setting  of  the  sun  on  a  calm  summer  evening,  which 
makes  the  western  sky  ablaze  with  splendour,  and 
glorifies  even  the  dark  clouds  that  gather  round  His 
descent.  It  is  like  the  changing  of  the  sombre  green 
foliage  of  summer  into  the  gorgeous  brightness  of 
the  autumnal  trees,  investing  even  the  sadness  of 
decay  and  death  with  an  unearthly  beauty.  Who, 
on  beholding  such  a  marvellous  proof  of  the  trans- 
forming and  sustaining  power  of  grace,  would  no^ 
exclaim  with  Balaam's  earnestness,  and  more  than 
Balaam's  purpose  of  attainment  :  "  Let  me  die  the 
death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  latter  end  be  like 
his"?  — Macmillan. 

XXX.  HIS  FUTURE  PERFECTNESS  AND 
GLORY.- 

(11 12.)  When  we  see  one  in  the  streets,  from 
every  dunghill,  gather  old  pieces  of  rags  and  dirty 
clouts,  little  would  we  think  that  of  those  old  rotten 
rags,  beaten  together  in  the  mill,  there  should  be 
made  such  pure  fine  white  paper  as  afterwards  we 
see  there  is.  Thus,  the  poor  despised  chiklren  of 
God  may  be  cast  out  into  the  world  as  dung  and 
dross,  may  be  smeared  and  smutted  all  over  with 
lying  amongst  the  pots ;  they  may  be  in  tears, 
perhaps  in  blood,  both  broken-hearted  and  broken- 
bop*"*!  ;  yet,  for  all  this,  they  are  not  to  despair,  for 
God  will  make  them  one  day  shine  in  joy,  like  the 
bright  stars  of  heaven,  and  make  of  them  royal, 
iiiiperial  paper,  wherein  He  will  write  His  own 
name  for  ever.  — Balcanqiiel,  1623. 

(1113.)  A  pure  soul  is  like  a  fine  pearl.  As  long 
as  it  is  hidden  in  the  shell  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
no  one  thinks  of  admiring  it.  But  if  you  bring  it 
into  the  sunshine,  this  pearl  will  shine  and  attract 
all  eyes.  Thus  the  pure  soul,  which  is  hidden  from 
the  eyes  of  the  world,  will  one  day  shine  before  tlie 
angels  in  the  sunshine  of  eternity.         — Viannqi» 


CHRISTIAN.     THE 


(     '97     ) 


CHRIS  TI A  ^.     THE 


(1114.)  You  look  on  a  poor,  praying,  self-denying 
believer,  but  you  look  not  before  you  on  a  saint  that 
shall  reign  with  Christ,  and  judge  the  world,  "  when 
He  Cometh  to  be  glorified  in  His  saints,  and  admired 
in  all  them  that  believe."  You  see  them  "sow  their 
seed  in  tears,"  but  you  see  it  not  springing  up  ;  nor 
do  you  foresee  the  joyful  harvest.  You  see  them 
following  Christ  through  tribulation,  bearing  His 
cross,  and  despising  the  shame ;  but  you  see  them 
not  yet  sitting  down  with  Him  on  their  thrones.  The 
fight  you  see,  but  the  triumph  you  see  not.  You 
see  them  tossed  at  sea,  but  you  know  not  how  sure 
a  pilot  they  have ;  nor  do  you  see  the  riches  of  their 
freight.  You  see  sickness  or  persecution  unpinning 
their  corruptible  rags,  and  death  undressing  them, 
but  you  see  not  the  clothes  which  they  are  putting 
on.  You  see  them  laid  asleep  by  death  ;  but  you 
see  not  their  awaking ;  nor  the  rising  of  their  sun, 
when  "the  righteous  shall  have  dominion  in  the 
morning."  The  man  that  is  dead  to  the  world  you 
see  ;  but  you  see  not  ''  the  life  that  is  hid  with  Christ 
in  God,"  nor  their  "appearing  with  Him  in  gloiy, 
when  Christ,  who  is  their  life,  appears."  Your  un- 
believing souls  imagine  there  will  be  no  May  or 
harvest  because  it  is  now  winter  with  us.  You 
think  the  rose  and  beauteous  flowers,  which  are 
promised  us  in  that  spring,  are  but  delusions,  be- 
cause you  know  not  the  virtue  of  that  life  that  is  in 
the  root,  nor  the  powerful  influence  of  that  Sun  of 
the  believer.  You  see  the  dead  body,  but  you  see 
not  the  soul,  alive  with  Christ,  retired  into  its  root. 
You  see  the  candle  put  out,  and  know  not  whither 
the  flame  is  gone,  and  think  not  how  small  a  touch 
of  the  yet  living  soul  will  light  it  again. 

— Salter. 

(11 15.)  The  mind  of  a  natural  man  is  darkened 
and  disturbed  by  passion,  and,  except  some  occasional 
feelings  of  terror,  gives  no  indication  of  the  existence 
of  the  Deity.  It  is  like  the  ocean  lying  under  a 
threatening  sky,  and  ruffled  with  the  wind,  which 
gives  no  distinct  reflection  of  the  lights  of  the  heavens, 
yet  catches  and  flashes  back  an  occasional  gleam, 
which  indicates  their  existence.  When  the  soul  is 
restored  to  the  favour  of  C>od,  through  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ,  it  is  as  when  God  says  to  the  sea,  "Peace, 
be  still,"  and  immediately  its  fury  subsides,  and  its 
heaving  billows  begin  to  rock  themselves  to  rest, 
while  the  clouds  gradually  disperse,  and  the  sun 
shines  out  upon  it,  and  its  reflections  become  more 
distinct  and  more  general,  and  the  whole  scene 
assumes  an  air  of  greater  cheerfulness.  But  when 
the  soul  shall  be  for  ever  delivered  from  the  influence 
of  all  agitating  passions,  and  shall  be  brought  into 
the  presence  of  God,  it  will  be  as  a  calm  expanse  of 
water  lying  under  a  serene  sky,  with  the  sun  beam- 
ing full  upon  it,  which  then  gleams  and  sparkles 
with  a  brightness  that  is  overpowering  to  human 
vision.  Then  every  feature  in  the  majestic  and  lovely 
character  of  God  will  have  its  respondent  reflection 
on  the  souls  of  His  people  :  and  as  the  untroubled 
ocean  reflects  in  succession  the  various  exhibitions 
of  tlie  works  of  God,  presented  by  a  revolving  and 
perpetual Ij  changing  sky,  so  their  souls  will  be  the 
subjects  of  ever- varying  affections,  excited  by  a  con- 
tinued succession  of  new  and  wonderful  displays  of 
the  character  and  attributes  of  the  Deity. 

— Salter. 

(11 16.)  In  the  little  tiny  seed  we  can  but  ill 
descry  the  beauteous   or  stately  tree  which  is   to 


spring  from  it.  Had  we  never  known  the  beauties 
of  a  full-blown  rose,  we  could  not  foretell  from 
looking  on  the  bud  the  future  splendour  of  the 
flower,  nor  trace  the  blaze  of  a  meridian  day  in  a 
morning  sky.  So  when  we  consider  the  soul  in 
her  feeble  state,  disfigured  and  defaced,  and  with 
but  little  of  heaven's  comeliness  upon  it — we  could 
never  anticipate,  from  its  close  alliance  with  a 
perishing  body,  that  "this  corruptible  shall  put  on 
incorruption,"  and  the  soul  shine  forth  in  all  the 
glories  of  the  divine  image.  — Salter. 

(II 17.)  "The  night  is  far  spent  and  the  day  is 
at  hand."  How  beautifully  this  figure  describes  the 
Christian's  earthly  experience.  The  night  of  his 
natural  condition  is  past,  the  day  of  his  glorifica- 
tion is  at  hand.  At  present,  his  experience  par- 
takes of  a  commingling  of  the  elements  of  the  past 
night,  and  of  the  elements  of  the  coming  day. 
But  there  is  an  increasing  ascendency  of  the  light 
of  the  day  over  the  darkness  of  the  night.  And 
this  transition  from  night  to  day  is  produced,  not 
by  the  introduction  of  darkness  into  light,  but  of 
light  into  darkness.  The  glorious  light  of  the 
gospel  shines  into  our  hearts,  and  gives  us  fore- 
glimpses  of  heaven.  The  coming  day  shall  have  no 
night.  Let  us  awake  and  await  the  coming  of  day. 
"  For  now  is  our  salvation  nearer  than  when  we 
believed." 

(II 18.)  We  know  not  what  shall  be.  As  yet  the 
veil  is  over  us.  We  can  only  catch  a  faint  gleam  of 
the  splendour  of  the  inheritance  of  the  sons  of  God. 
We  are  like  men  standing  outside  some  mighty 
temple,  seeing  now  and  then  the  glory  streaming 
through  its  gorgeous  windows,  and  hearing  faintly 
the  music  rolling  through  its  gorgeous  dome.  But 
soon  the  veil  shall  be  lifted,  and  we  shall  *'  know 
even  as  we  are  known." 

(11 19.)  When  gold  was  first  discovered  in 
California,  they  used  to  saw  timber  in  New 
England,  and  frame  it  into  buildings  ready  to  be 
put  up,  and  stow  them  into  the  nold  of  ships,  and 
carry  a  whole  village  in  one  ship,  to  be  put  up  in 
that  new  region.  And  suppose  a  man,  on  hearing 
that  there  was  a  whole  village  in  the  hold  of  a 
ship,  had  gone  down  to  see  what  a  village  looked 
like?  When  he  gets  where  it  is,  all  that  he  can 
see  is  an  immense  heap  of  bricks,  and  lime,  and 
tools,  and  planks,  and  boards,  and  timbers  with  all 
sorts  of  holes  in  them  ;  and  he  goes  up  and  says, 
"Well,  if  that  is  a  village,  deliver  me  from  a  village!" 
He  laughs  at  it.  No  man  can  convince  him  that  it 
is  a  village.  Now,  land  your  stores,  and  take  these 
timbers  that  have  been  fitted,  and  these  boards  that 
have  been  planed,  and  painted,  and  fixed,  on  the  far- 
off  New  England  shore,  and  carry  them  up  under 
the  shadow  of  an  evergreen  hill,  and  put  them  to- 
gether, making  of  them  cozy  white  houses,  with 
their  little  yards,  and  their  flowers  ;  and  then  bring 
this  man  out  of  the  ship,  and  say,  "There  is  the 
village,  cut  out  on  one  shore,  and  set  up  on  another  !  " 
Would  he  not  change  his  mind  ? 

This  is  God's  sawyard.  He  is  sawing  out  timber  ; 
and  you  are  that  timber.  To-day  he  is  ripping  you 
with  the  saw.  To-morrow  h«  is  smoothing  you  with 
a  plane.  The  next  day  he  is  rubbing  up  the  surface 
with  some  kind  of  a  rasp.  He  plies  you  with  ham- 
mer, and  nails,  and  screws,  and  bolts,  and  all  soils 
of  in&truments.     This  great  wca-ld  carries  you  like 


CHRISTIANITY. 


K     198     ) 


CHRISTIANITY. 


the  hull  of  a  ship.  You  are  sailing  to  that  land 
where  all  these  things,  which  are  being  fitted  and 
prepared  here,  are  to  be  set  up.  And  you  can  never 
imagine  frcm  what  you  see  here  what  is  to  be  there. 
You  would  not  know  yourself  if  you  were  to  see 
yourself  as  you  are  to  be.  If  a  man  could  be  pro- 
jected outside  of  himself,  and  walk  by  himself,  as  he 
will  be  in  the  other  life,  he  would  say,  "  Who  is 
that?"  He  would  not  know  himself,  such  is  the 
exceeding  glory  of  that  change  which  will  be  wrought 
in  us,  when  all  parts  of  our  being  have  been  deve- 
loped and  educated,  and  we  are  what  God  thought 
of  and  meant  when  He  invented  man. 

— Beecher. 


CHRISTIANITY. 

1.  The  last  and  most  glorious  of  the  Divine 
revelations. 

(1120.)  God  at  sundry  times,  and  in  divers 
manners,  spake  unto  the  fathers  by  the  prophets  ; 
but  the  complete  revelation  of  His  will  and  His 
grace  was  reserved  for  the  appearance  of  His  "  only 
begotten  Son  "  in  our  world.  As  the  evening  star 
precedes,  in  the  firmament,  the  breaking  forth  of 
the  heavenly  host  in  all  their  splendour ;  so  the 
announcement  of  the  first  promise  was  preparatory 
to  the  brighter  light  which  beamed  on  the  patri- 
archal age  :  and  as  the  light  of  the  full-orbed  moon 
walking  in  all  her  brightness  conceals  from  the  view 
the  twinkling  stars,  so  the  light  of  the  Mosaic  dis- 
pensation, and  the  prophetic  revelations  with  which 
it  was  accompanied,  eclipsed  all  the  splendour 
which  had  preceded  it.  But  even  resplendent  as 
the  glory  of  Sinai  was,  it  cannot  endure  comparison 
with  the  unsjjeakably  more  transcendent  glory  which 
was  shed  upon  the  Church  and  the  world  when  the 
great  "  Sun  of  righteousness  "  Himself  arose  with 
healing  under  His  wings.  These  were  only  as  the 
light  of  the  stars,  or  of  the  moon,  which  disappear 
and  are  hid  in  the  cloudless  radiance  of  meridian 
day  (2  Cor.  iii.  7-1 1).  — Ewing. 

(1121.)  The  main  distinction  between  real  Chris- 
tianity and  the  system  of  the  bulk  of  nominal 
Christians  chiefly  consists  in  the  different  place 
which  is  assigned  in  the  two  schemes  to  the  peculiai 
doctrines  of  the  Gospel.  These,  in  the  scheme  of 
nominal  Christians,  if  admitted  at  all,  appear  but 
like  the  stars  of  the  firmament  to  the  ordinary  eye. 
Those  splendid  luminaries  draw  forth,  perhaps, 
occasionally  a  transient  expression  of  admiration 
when  we  behold  their  beauty,  or  hear  of  their 
distances,  magnitudes,  or  properties  ;  now  and  then, 
too,  we  are  led,  perhaps,  to  muse  upon  their 
p(.)ssible  uses ;  but,  however  curious  as  subjects  of 
speculation,  it  must,  after  all,  be  confessed  they 
twinkle  to  the  common  observer  with  a  vain  and 
idle  lustre  ;  and  except  in  the  dreams  of  the  astro- 
loger have  no  influence  on  human  happiness,  or  any 
concern  w  th  the  course  and  order  of  the  world. 
But  to  the  real  Christian,  on  the  contraiy,  these 
pecidiar  Joctriiies  constitute  the  centre  to  which  he 
gravitates  I  the  very  sun  0/ his  system  I  the  origin  of 
all  that  is  excellent  and  lovely  I  the  sou7-ce  of  light, 
and  life,  and  motion,  and  genial  warmth,  and  plastic 
energy  1  Dim  is  the  light  of  reason,  and  cold  and 
comfortless  our  state  while  left  to  her  unassisted 
guidance.  Even  the  Old  Testament  itself,  though 
a  revelation  from  heaven,  sliines  ^ut  with  feeble 
and  scants    rays.     But  the   blessed    truths   of  the 


Gospel  are  aow  unveiled  to  our  eyes,  and  we  are 
called  upon  to  behold  and  to  enjoy  "the  light  of 
the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God,  in  the  face  of 
Jesus  Christ,"  in  the  full  radiance  of  its  meridian 
splendour.  The  words  of  inspiration  best  express 
our  highly-favoured  state :  "  We  all,  with  open 
face,  beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord, 
are  changed  into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to 
glory,  even  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord." 

—  VVilberforce. 

2.  Indisputable  facts  concerning  it. 

( I . )  It  is  a  system  of  wonders. 

(1122.)  Christianity  is  a  system  of  wonders.  It 
enjoins  upon  mar  to  acknowledge  himself  vile, — 
yea,  abominable  ;  yet  commands  him  to  aspire  to 
a  likeness  to  God  !  Without  such  a  counterpoise, 
his  elevation  would  render  him  fearfully  vain,  or 
his  abasement  hopelessly  abject.  — Pascal. 

(2.)  As  a  system  of  viorality  it  is  unsurpassed. 

(1123.)  All  systems  of  morality  are  fine.  The 
Gospel  alone  has  exhibited  a  complete  assemblage 
of  the  principles  of  morality,  divested  of  all  ab- 
surdity. It  is  not  composed,  like  your  creed,  of  a 
few  commonplace  sentences  put  into  bad  verse. 
Do  you  wish  to  see  that  which  is  really  sublime? 
Repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer.  — Napoleon  I. 

(3.)  No  other  religion  does  more  to  promote  virtue 
and  the  national  welfare. 

(1124.)  There  was  never  law,  or  sect,  or  opinion, 
did  so  much  magnify  goodness  as  the  Christian 
religion  doth.  — Bacon,  1560- 1626. 

(1125.)  The  great  received  articles  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion  have  been  so  clearly  proved,  from  the 
authority  of  that  divine  revelation  in  which  they  are 
delivered,  that  it  is  impossible  for  those  who  have 
ears  to  hear,  and  eyes  to  see,  not  to  be  convinced 
of  them.  But  were  it  possible  for  anything  in  the 
Christian  faith  to  be  erroneous,  I  can  find  no  ill 
consequences  in  adhering  to  it.  The  great  points 
of  the  incarnation  and  sufferings  of  our  Saviour 
produce  naturally  such  habits  of  virtue  in  the  mintl 
of  man,  that,  I  say,  supposing  it  were  possible  for 
us  to  be  mistaken  in  them,  the  infidel  himself  must 
at  least  allow  that  no  other  system  of  religion  could 
so  effectually  contribute  to  the  heightening  morality. 
They  give  us  great  ideas  of  the  dignity  of  human 
nature,  and  of  the  love  which  the  Supreme  Being 
bears  to  His  creatures,  and  consequently  engage  us 
in  the  highest  acts  of  duty  owards  our  Creator,  our 
neighbour,  and  ourselves. 

— Addison,  1672-17 19. 

(1126.)  No  religion  ever  appeared  in  the  world 
whose  natural  tendency  was  so  much  directed  to 
promote  the  peace  and  happiness  of  mankind.  It 
makes  right  reason  a  law  in  every  possible  definition 
of  the  word.  And  therefore,  even  supposing  it  to 
have  been  purely  a  human  invention,  it  had  been 
the  most  amiable  and  the  most  useful  invention  that 
was  ever  imposed  on  mankind  for  their  good. 

— Lord  Bolingbroke,  1678-1751. 

(1127.)  What  other  science  can  even  make  a  pre- 
tension to  dethrone  oppression,  to  abolish  slavery, 
to  exclude  v\  ar,  to  extirpate  fraud,  to  banish  violence, 
to  revive  the  withered  blossoms  of  paradise?  Such 
are  the  pretensions  and  blessings  of  genuine  Chris< 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(     199     ) 


CHRISTIANITY. 


tianity  ;  and  wherever  genuine  Christianity  prevails, 
they  are  experienced.  Thus  it  accomplishes  its 
promises  on  earth,  where  alone  it  has  enemies  :  it 
will  therefore  accomplish  them  in  heaven,  where  its 
friends  reign.  — Gregory,  1774-1841. 

(1128.)  The  following  is  related  of  the  celebrated 
Dr.  Belknap  : 

Upon  a  certain  occasion,  in  the  presence  of  a  vast 
and  brilliant  assemblage,  a  person  moie  noted  for 
his  self-esteem  than  for  his  learning,  was  speaking 
against  the  Christian  religion  in  terms  of  the  severest 
scorn  and  derision. 

Unfortunately  for  the  orator,  his  remarks  were 
overheard  by  tlie  doctor  who,  stepping  up  to  him, 
asked  :  "  Well,  sir,  have  you  found  a  religion  that 
is  better?"  The  scoffer,  considerably  abashed  by 
this  unlooked-for  question,  was  forced  to  acknow- 
ledge that  thus  far  he  had  not.  "  Well,"  responded 
the  doctor,  "when  you  have,  let  me  know,  and  I 
will  join  you  in  adopting  it. " 

The  rebuke  was  as  wise  as  it  was  just. 

(4.)  Its  effects  upon  society  have  been  highly 
beneficial. 

(1129.)  The  influence  of  Christianity  has  been 
very  efficient  toward  the  introduction  of  a  better  and 
more  enlightened  sense  of  right  and  justice  among 
the  several  governments  of  Europe.  It  taught  the 
duty  of  benevolence  to  strangers,  of  humanity  to  the 
vanquished,  of  the  obligation  of  good  faith, — of  the 
sin  of  murder,  revenge,  and  rapacity.  The  history 
of  Europe  during  the  earlier  periods  of  modern 
history  abounds  with  interesting  and  strong  cases  to 
show  the  authority  of  the  Church  over  turbulent 
princes  and  fierce  warriors,  and  the  effect  of  that 
authority  in  meliorating  manners,  checking  violence, 
and  introducing  a  system  of  morals  which  inculcated 
peace,  moderation,  and  justice. 

— Chancellor  Kent. 

(1130.)  Christianity  is  the  companion  of  liberty 
in  all  its  conflicts, — the  cradle  0/  ks  infancy  and  the 
divine  source  of  its  claims.  —-De  2'ocquevUle. 

(5.)  It  blesses  and  enttof'les  the  poor. 

(1 131.)  Since  the  revelation  of  Christianity  all 
moral  thought  has  been  sanctified  by  religion. 
Religion  has  given  to  it  a  purity,  a  solemnity,  a 
sublimity  which  even  amongst  the  noblest  of  the 
heathen  we  shall  look  for  in  vain.  The  knowledge 
that  shone  by  fits  and  dimly  on  the  eyes  of  Socrates 
and  Plato,  "that  rolled  in  vain  to  find  the  light," 
has  descended  over  many  lands  into  the  "huts  where 
poor  men  lie  ; "  and  thoughts  are  familiar  there, 
beneath  the  low  and  smoking  roofs,  higher  far  than 
ever  flowed  from  Grecian  sage  meditating  among 
the  magnificence  of  his  pillared  temples. 

— Professor  John  Wilson. 
{Recreations  of  Christopher  Aorth.) 

(6.)  The  effect  of  universal  obedience  to  it  would  be 
an  unexainpied  stale  of  national  happiness. 

(1 132.)   If  all  were  perfect  Christians,  individuals 
would  do  their  duty  ;  the  people  would  be  obedient 
to  the  laws ;  the  magistrates  incorrupt ;  and  there 
would  be  neither  vanity  nor  luxury  in  such  a  siate. 
— y.  L.  Rousseau. 

(7.)  It  delivers  those  who  accept  it  from  tkt  fear  of 
death. 

VjIS)  W<    recently  called  on  a  lady  of  culture 


and  refinement,  who,  having  just  taken  possession 
of  a  new  house  with  elegant  surroundings,  had 
suddenly  been  called  to  face  the  approach  of  a 
fearful  disease  that  seemed  beyond  human  power  to 
avert.  With  a  loving  husband  and  a  winsome 
daughter,  with  a  home  filled  with  evidences  of 
wealth  and  taste,  encircled  by  warm,  true-hearted 
friends,  with  everything  earthly  to  make  life  glad 
and  joyous,  we  remarked  :  "  You  have  everything 
to  live  for.  Does  it  not  depress  you  to  think  that 
all  this  must  be  given  up  if  this  disease  is  not 
stayed?"  The  reply,  simple,  earnest,  truthful: 
"Why,  I  have  everything  to  die  for,"  indicated  the 
rich,  abiding  wealth  of  a  soul  whose  trust  is  stayed 
on  God,  and  sliowed  that  she  was  lifted  up  into  a 
life  of  serenity  and  peace  that  could  never  be  shaken 
by  storms  and  tempests.  Can  any  faith  or  any 
religion  save  that  of  the  Christian  enable  one  thus 
to  triumph  over  pain,  thus  to  look  upon  death,  thus 
to  contemplate  separation  from  the  dear  ones  linked 
by  the  holiest  of  earthly  ties  ? 

3.  How  difficult  it  is  for  us  to  appreciate  its 

blessings. 

(1134.)  We  live  surrounded  by  Christian  institu- 
tions; breathe  an  atmosphere  saturated  by  Chris- 
tianity. It  is  exceedingly  difficult  even  to  imagine 
another  state  of  things.  In  the  enjoyment  of 
domestic  purity  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  the 
debasing  effects  of  polygamy  :  in  the  midst  of 
political  liberty  to  conceive  of  the  blighting  power 
of  slavery  :  in  scientific  progress  to  imagine  mental 
stagnation-:  in  religious  liberty  and  free  goodness 
to  fancy  the  reign  of  superstition. 

Yet  to  realise  the  blessings  of  health,  we  must  sit 
by  the  sick-bed  ;  to  feel  what  light  is,  we  must 
descend  into  the  mine  and  see  the  emaciated  fonns 
which  dwindle  away  in  darkness  ;  to  know  what 
the  blessing  of  sunshine  is,  go  down  into  the  valleys 
where  stunted  vegetation  and  dim  vapours  tell  of 
a  scene  on  which  the  sun  scarcely  shines  two  hours 
in  the  day  :  and  to  know  what  we  have  from 
Christianity,  it  is  well  to  cast  the  eyes  sometimes 
over  the  darkness  from  which  the  Advent  of  Christ 
redeemed  us.  — Robertson,  1816-1853. 

4.  The  extent  of  its  benefits  are  not  yet  dis- 
cernible. 

(1 135.)  The  work  of  Christianity  we  cannot  see 
in  full.  It  is  a  work  which  is  largely  in  future, 
though  some  of  it  is  here. 

Do  you  recollect  going  out  into  Prospect  Park  in 
Brooklyn  when  they  were  first  laying  it  out  ?  They 
were  going  to  have  a  great  park  ;  and  it  is  a  great 
park.  It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  parks  in  the 
world,  and  you  ought  to  be  more  proud  of  it  than 
you  are.  But  how  did  they  go  to  work  to  make  it  ? 
What  did  they  do  first?  They  took  off  everything 
that  was  beautiful  from  the  surface,  and  heaped  it 
in  large  stacks.  They  took  off  the  sod  and  threw 
up  the  sub-soil,  and  the  ground  was  like  a  man  that 
httii  been  skinned  all  over.  It  was  ugly  and  liide- 
ous.  By  and  by,  however,  there  were  some  little 
bits  improved.  They  spread  out  some  soil,  and  put 
in  some  shrubs,  and  some  small  points  here  and 
there  were  made  quite  attractive.  And  they  followed 
up  this  process  little  by  little.  Tlie  great  bulk  o< 
the  park,  so  far  as  its  surface  was  concerned,  was  to 
be  created  ;  and  here  came  out  a  bit,  and  there  a 
bit,  from  year  to  year ;    and   people  said,    "  ll   u 

W-aiitiful  as  f:xr  a.s  it  mies." 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(     200    ) 


CHRISTIANITY. 


Men  grow  ju^t  so  when  God  takes  hold  of  them, 
md  they  begin  to  be  Christians.  The  old  growths 
are  cleaned  away,  and  transformations  take  place 
under  the  Divine  influence.  Oftentimes  a  man 
looks  less  beautiful  after  the  work  of  grace  has  first 
begun  in  him  than  he  did  before  ;  but  gradually  his 
rature  changes.  In  some  directions  it  improves. 
One  part  after  another  begins  to  be  wrought  out  by 
the  Divine  discipline,  and  by  the  concurrent  desire 
of  men  for  education.  Little  by  little  the  linea- 
ments of  the  Divine  character  come  up.  But  the 
whole  of  it  cannot  appear  until  you  get  into  a 
climate  that  is  without  winter.  This  is  such  a  world 
that  the  highest  degrees  of  human  excellence  cannot 
be  attained  until  we  get  out  of  it.  The  lower  forms, 
the  foundation  elements  of  the  great  structure,  which 
require  a  certain  physical  manipulation,  are  begun 
and  carried  forward  here  ;  but  as  plants  that  are 
grown  in  greenhouses  are  not  taken  out  of  doors 
until  winter  is  gone,  and  have  their  glory  in  summer, 
so  in  this  greenhouse  of  a  world,  as  it  were,  we  are 
sprouted  ;  and  it  is  not  until  summer  dawns  on  this 
sphere,  and  we  are  transplanted  to  a  soil  where 
frosts  no  longer  come,  that  we  show  all  the  power 
md  beauty  of  our  character.  — Beecher. 

5.  Is  a  religion  of  principles. 

\1136.)  Moses,  who  had  to  provide  for  the  wants 
of  a  particular  people  at  a  time  when  religion  was 
only  in  its  childhood,  was  instructed  to  teach  them, 
as  we  treat  children,  and  to  give  them  rules, 
"Touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not."  ....  Jesus 
Christ,  who  spake  for  all  men,  for  all  nations,  for 
all  ages,  did  not  lay  down  rules  like  Moses  ;  did 
not  say,  "Touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not."  No  ; 
by  an  exertion  of  His  power  and  wisdom,  more 
marvellous  to  a  thinking  mind  than  any,  even  the 
greatest  miracle  He  ever  wrought,  He  at  once  by  a 
few  plain  words  set  religion  free  from  all  her  former 

swaddling-clothes    and    leading-strings In 

the  room  of  burdensome  ntes  and  former  rules,  He 
gave  us  the  law  of  faith  and  love  ;  and  thereby  made 
His  doctrine  a  doctrine  of  principles, — living,  active, 
pure,  universal,  and  eternal.  — A.  W.  Hare. 

6.  Its  distinctive  doctrine. 

(1137.)  The  distinctive  doctrine  of  Christianity  is 
the  doctrine  of  a  Divine  humanity.  Whatever  else 
Christianity  derived  from  other  religions,  this,  at 
least,  was  underived.  Whatever  else  was  inter- 
woven into  the  Christian  web  from  the  threads  spun 
by  Jewish  sage  or  heathen  philosopher,  this  was 
not-  It  was  itself  the  warp  on  which  the  whole 
Chiistian  woof  was  woven.  Both  Eastern  and 
Western  religions  had  seen  this  truth  of  God  and 
man  in  one,  floating,  a  nebulous  dream,  before 
them,  and  had  tried  to  resolve  it  into  the  guiding- 
star  of  their  thought,  but  their  eflbrts  closed  in 
failure.  The  oriental,  beginning  with  God  conde- 
scending to  man,  ended,  at  the  very  moment  when 
he  seemed  nearest  to  the  true  conception,  in  a 
deification  of  the  universe  in  which  God  and  man 
were  both  lost.  The  Western,  beginning  with  man 
aspiring  to  God,  found  its  grave  in  the  Alexandrian 
Platonism,  which,  rejecting  the  deified  world  of  the 
Greeks,  ended  in  the  conception  of  one  divine  sub- 
stance, before  which  everything  finite  was  only 
phenomenal,  not  actual.  The  Greek  ended  where 
the  Hindu  began.  The  circle  of  failure  was  com- 
plete. But  the  proclan^tion  of  the  true  idea 
explained    the    failure,    and    vealised    the    dream. 


Christ  came,  and  the  fountain  idea  of  a  true  union 
of  the  divine  and  human  broke  upward  through  the 
mountain-top  of  the  world,  and  streamed  on  all 
sides  down  through  the  radiating  valleys  of  the 
nations,  drawing  into  itself  all  the  local  religious 
streams,  and  developing  from  itself  new  rivers  of 
spiritual  ideas.  — StopJ or d  Brooke. 

7.  Challenges  Inquiry. 

(i  13S.)  Our  religion  is  a  religion  that  dares  to  be 
understood  ;  that  offers  itself  to  the  search  of  the  in- 
quisitive, to  the  inspection  of  the  severest  and  the 
most  awakened  reason  ;  for,  being  secure  of  her  sub- 
stantial truth  and  purity,  she  knows  that  for  her  to 
be  seen  and  looked  into  is  to  be  embraced  and  ad- 
mired ;  as  there  needs  no  greater  argument  for  men 
to  love  the  light  than  to  see  it. 

— South,   1633-1716. 

8.  Will  bear  investigation, 

(1139.)  As  to  the  Christian  religion,  besides  the 
strong  evidence  which  we  have  for  it,  there  is  a  bal- 
ance in  its  favour  from  the  number  of  great  men  who 
have  been  convinced  of  its  truth  after  a  serious  con- 
sideration of  the  question.  Grotius  was  an  acuta 
man,  a  lawyer,  a  man  accustomed  to  examine  evi- 
dence, and  he  was  convinced.  Grotius  was  not  a 
recluse,  but  a  man  of  the  world,  who  certainly  had 
no  bias  on  the  side  of  religion.  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
set  out  an  infidel,  and  came  to  be  a  very  firm  be- 
liever. — Dr.  S.  Johnson. 

9.  Many  of  its  doctrines  are  necessarily  mysterl. 
ous. 

(1140.)  In  the  nature  of  the  things  which  are  the 
subject-matter  of  the  Christian  religion,  there  are 
these  three  properties  which  must  of  necessity  ren- 
der them  mysterious,  obscure,  and  of  difticult  ap- 
prehension : — 

First,  their  surpassing  greatness  and  inequality  to 
the  mind  of  man.  The  Christian  religion,  as  to  a 
great  part  of  it,  is  but  an  instrument  to  convey  right 
conceptions  of  God  into  the  soul  of  man,  so  far  as  it 
is  capable  of  receiving  them.  But  how  can  such 
vast  and  mighty  things  be  crowded  into  a  little,  , 
finite  understanding? 

A  second  qualification  of  the  chief  things  treated 
of  in  our  religion,  and  which  must  needs  ren- 
der them  mysterious,  is  their  spirituality  and  ab- 
straction from  all  sensible  and  corporeal  matter  ;  of 
which  sort  of  things  it  is  impossible  for  the  under- 
standing of  man  to  form  to  itself  an  exact  idea  :  so 
that  when  we  hear  or  read  that  God  is  a  Spirit,  and 
that  angels  and  the  souls  of  men  are  spirits,  our 
apprehensions  are  utterly  at  a  loss  how  to  form  any 
notion  of  them,  but  are  put  to  float  and  wander  in 
an  endless  maze  of  conjectures,  and  know  not  cer- 
tainly what  to  fix  upon.  For  in  this  case  we  can  fetch 
in  no  information  or  relief  to  our  understandings  from 
our  senses  ;  no  picture  or  draught  of  these  things 
from  the  reports  of  the  eye  ;  but  we  are  left  entirely 
to  the  uncertainties  of  fancy,  to  the  flights  and  ven- 
tures of  a  bold  imagination. 

And  here  to  illustrate  the  case  a  little,  let  us  im- 
agine a  man  who  was  born  blind,  able  upon  bare 
hearsay  to  conceive  in  his  mind  all  the  varieties  and 
curiosities  of  colour,  to  draw  .an  exact  scheme  of 
Constantinople,  or  a  map  of  France  :  to  describe  the 
towns,  point  out  the  rivers,  and  distinguish  the  situa- 
tions of    these    and  the    like  great    extra  jrdinaiy 


CHRISTIANITY. 


\      20I       ) 


CHRISTIANITY. 


places  :  and  wlien  such  an  one  is  able  to  do  all  this, 
and  not  before,  then  perhaps  may  we  also  apprehend 
what  a  spirit,  an  angel,  or  an  immaterial  being  is. 
The  difficulty  of  understanding  which  sufficiently 
appears  from  this  considt-ration,  that  in  all  the  de- 
scriptions which  we  make  ot  God,  angels,  and  spirits, 
we  still  describe  them  by  such  things  as  we  see.  And 
when  we  have  done,  do  this  argument  right  again 
on  the  other  side  :  as  it  would  be  extremely  irrational 
for  a  blind  man  to  conclude  and  affirm  positively 
that  there  neitlier  are  nor  can  be  any  such  things 
as  colours,  pictures,  or  landscapes,  because  he  finds 
that  he  cannot  form  to  himself  any  true  notion  of 
them  ;  so  would  it  be  equally,  or  rather  superlatively 
more  unreasonable  for  us  to  deny  the  great  articles 
of  our  Chiistianity,  because  we  cannot  frame  in  our 
minds  any  exact  representation  of  them.  The  Chris- 
tian religion,  which  treats  of  and  is  conversant  about 
such  things,  must,  of  necessity,  be  mysterious. 

A  third  property  of  matters  belonging  to  Chris- 
tianity, and  which  also  renders  them  mysterious,  is 
their  strangeness  and  unreducibleness  to  the  common 
methods  and  observations  of  nature.  I,  for  my  part, 
cannot  look  upon  anything  (whatsoever  others  can) 
as  a  more  fundamental  article  of  the  Christian 
religion  than  Christ's  satisfaction  for  sin,  by  which 
alone  the  lost  sons  of  Adam  are  reconciled  to  their 
offended  God,  and  so  put  into  new  capacities  of 
salvation  ;  and  yet,  perhaps,  there  is  nothing  more 
surprising,  strange,  and  out  of  the  road  of  common 
reason  than  this,  if  compared  with  the  general  course 
and  way  of  men's  acting.  Now  that  He  who  was 
the  offended  person  should  project  and  provide  a 
satisfaction  to  Himself  in  the  behalf  of  those  who 
had  offended  Him,  and  with  so  much  zeal  solicit  a 
reconciliation  with  those  whom  He  had  no  need  of 
being  reconciled  unto,  but  might  with  equal  justice 
and  honour  have  destroyed  them,  was  a  thing  quite 
beside  the  common  Course  of  this  world  ;  and  much 
more  was  it  so,  that  a  Father  should  deliver  up  an 
innocent  and  infinitely  beloved  Son  to  be  sacrificed 
for  the  redemption  of  His  justly  hated  and  abhorred 
enemies ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  that  a  Son  who 
loved  His  Father  as  much  as  He  could  be  loved  by 
Him,  should  lay  down  His  life  for  the  declared 
enemies  of  Him  whom  He  so  transcendantly  loved, 
and  of  Himself  too  ;  this,  I  say,  was  such  a  transac- 
tion, as  we  can  find  nothing  analogous  to  in  all  the 
dealings  of  men,  and  cannot  but  be  owned  as 
wliolly  beside,  if  not  also  directly  contrary  to,  all 
human  methods.  And  so  true  is  this,  that  several 
things  expressly  affirmed  of  God  in  Scripture,  relat- 
ing to  the  prime  articles  of  our  faith,  are  denied  or 
eluded  by  the  Arians  and  Socinians,  because  they 
cross  and  contradict  the  notions  taken  up  by  them 
from  what  they  have  observed  in  created  beings,  and 
particularly  in  men  ;  which  yet  is  a  gross  fallacy  and 
inconsequence,  concluding  ab  iinparibiis  tanqiiam 
f-oribtis,  and  more  than  sufficiently  blown  off  by 
that  one  passage  of  the  prophet  concerning 
Almighty  God,  that  "  His  thoughts  are  not  as  our 
thoughts,  nor  His  ways  as  our  ways"  (Isa.  Iv.  8),  to 
which  we  may  add,  that  neither  is  His  nature  as 
our  i\ature,  nor  His  Divine  Persons  as  our  persons. 
— South,    1633-1716. 

10.  Can  tie  judged  rightly  only  from  within. 

(1141.)  You  have  seen,  it  maybe,  an  antique, 
Italian  painted  window,  with  the  bright  Italian  sun- 
shine glowing  through  it.  It  is  the  special  excel- 
leiKe  of  pictured  glass  that  the  light  which  falls  merely 


on  the  outside  of  other  pictures  is  here  interfused 
throughout  the  work,  illuminating  the  design,  and 
investing  it  with  a  living  radiance  .  .  .  Christian 
faith  is  a  grand  cathedral,  with  Divinely  pictured 
windows.  Standing  without  you  see  no  glory,  nor 
can  possibly  imagine  any.  Nothing  is  visible  but 
the  merest  outline  of  dusky  shapes.  Standing  with- 
in all  is  clear  and  defined,  every  ray  of  light  reveals 
an  army  of  unspeakable  splendours.        — Rtiskin. 

11.  How  assurance  of  its  truth  is  to  be  attained. 

(1142.)  Our  Saviour  prescribes  men  an  unfailing 
method  to  assure  themselves  of  the  truth  of  this 
doctrine  (John  vii.  17).  "If  anyone,"  says  He, 
"  will  do  the  will  of  the  Father,  he  shall  know  of 
My  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God,  or  whether  I 
speak  of  Myself."  If  men  could  but  be  brought  to 
look  upon  the  agenda  of  Christianity  as  suitable,  they 
would  never  judge  the  credenda  of  it  irrational. 
There  is  a  strange  intercourse  and  mutual  corrobora- 
tion between  faith  and  practice.  For  as  belief  first 
engages  practice,  so  practice  strengthens  and  con- 
firms belief.  The  body  first  imparts  heat  to  the 
garment,  but  the  garment  returns  it  with  advantage 
to  the  body.  God  beams  in  peculiar  evidences  and 
discoveries  of  the  truth  to  such  as  embrace  it  in 
their  affections  and  own  it  in  their  actions. 

— South,  1633-17 16. 

(1143.)  You  never,  in  this  age  of  inquiry,  can  for- 
tify Christianity  against  the  most  sifting  and  critical 
investigations  in  regard  to  its  history  and  its  externa! 
instruments.  There  will  be  an  assaulting  of  revealed 
religion.  But  I  hold  that  you  no  more  touch 
Christianity  when  you  assault  it  in  its  external  forms 
of  development,  than  you  touch  a  man  when  you 
pierce  his  robe  and  do  not  touch  his  body,  or  when 
you  pierce  his  arm  and  do  not  touch  his  heart.  The 
way  to  test  Christianity  is,  not  to  examine  its  origin, 
nor  to  examine  its  incarnations,  but  to  see  whether 
it  has  the  power  to  produce  the  fruits  that  it  declares 
it  has,  and  whether  it  produces  those  fruits.  Ex- 
perimentals  are  the  tests  of  Christianity,  and  not 
those  things  which  are  dogmatic,  historic,  or  philo- 
sophic, in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term.  It  is  to 
be  experimentally  discerned.  The  logic  by  which  it 
is  tested  is  :n  the  heart. 

Here  sit  philosophers  in  grave  argument  round 
about  a  harp.  It  is  declared  that  that  was  David "s 
harp,  and  that  it  is  able  to  make,  not  only  solemn,  but 
all  harmonic  and  wondrous  sounds.  One  man  opposes 
this  view,  because  the  wood  bears  evidence  of  never 
having  come  down  from  olden  times.  He  says  that  it 
evidently  is  modern  wood.  Another  man  examines  the 
strings,  and  insists  upon  it  that  he  sees  in  them  proof 
that  it  cannot  be  David's  harp.  Another  man  gives 
it  as  his  deliberate  opinion  that  it  not  only  is  not 
David's  harp,  but  is  no  harp — that  it  is  an  unmusical 
thing  which  does  not  deserve  the  name  of  a  harp. 
And  so  they  reason  about  the  instrument  for  haif-a- 
day,  without  any  of  them  touching  it  ;  until  a  gray 
bearded  old  harper  comes  in,  and  instead  of  answer- 
ing their  objections  takes  a  stool,  and  sits  up  to  tUe 
harp,  and  sweeping  his  hand  from  side  to  side  o\^x 
the  strings,  wakes  its  long- forgotten  sounds,  and 
rings  out  the  ballad  or  the  hymn  ;  and  then  these 
men  sit  entranced.  They  laboured  to  prove  that  the 
instrument  was  not  capable  of  giving  forth  musi^, 
but  neglected  to  try  it ;  and  the  moment  the  old 
harper  laid  his  hand  on  it,  it  was  its  own  argument 
and  i*^  put  to  silence  its  defamers. 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(    202    ) 


CHRISTIANITY. 


We  hear  men  discussing  as  to  whether  Christianity 
is  true.  Now,  Christianity  is  not  a  thing  of  the  in- 
tellect. It  belongs  to  the  soul.  It  is  declared  that 
it  is  possible  for  a  man's  soul  to  catch  hold  of  God, 
not  only,  but  to  spread  out  and  root  itself  in  uni- 
versal sympathy  with  men.  No  argument  can  be 
presented  that  shall  touch  that  proposition.  There 
IS  but  one  way  of  trying  it.  Let  the  hand  sweep 
over  the  chords  of  the  soul,  and  if  they  answer,  all 
argument  is  impertinent.  I  declare  that  the  truth 
of  Christianity  stands  in  the  experience  of  it,  and 
that  no  argument  can  invalidate  it.  If  a  man  says 
"  I  love  God,  and  I  desire  the  welfare  of  all  man- 
kind, and  I  am  filled  with  hope  and  peace,"  what 
can  take  his  experience  away  from  him  ?  For 
Christianity  is  an  experience,  not  a  conviction  ;  it  is 
a  possession,  not  a  mere  belief  of  the  outward  under- 
standing 

To  this  Christianity  I  commend  you.  I  commend 
you  to  the  love  of  God,  to  the  love  of  men,  and  to 
the  life  which  shall  consist  in  growing  up  unto  Him 
which  is  the  Head,  Christ  Jesus,  in  love. 

— Beccher. 

12.  The  experience  of  Christians  Is  the  best 
evidence  that  Christianity  is  from  God. 

(1144.)  If  all  the  blind  men  in  the  kingdom  should 
endeavour  to  bear  me  down  that  the  sun  is  not 
bright,  or  that  the  rainbow  has  no  colours,  I  would 
still  believe  my  own  eyes.  I  have  seen  them  both, 
they  have  not.  I  cannot  prove  to  their  satisfaction 
what  I  assert,  because  they  are  destitute  of  sight, 
the  necessary  medium  ;  yet  their  exceptions  pro- 
duce no  uncertainty  in  my  mind  ;  they  would  not — 
they  could  not — hesitate  a  moment,  if  they  were  not 
blind.  Just  so  they  who  have  been  taught  of  God, 
who  have  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious,  have  an 
experimental  perception  of  the  truth  which  renders 
them  proof  against  all  the  sophistry  of  infidels.  I 
am  persuaded  we  have  many  plain  people  here, 
who,  if  a  wise  man  of  the  world  was  to  suggest  that 
the  Bible  is  a  human  invention,  would  be  quite  at  a 
loss  how  to  answer  him  by  arguments  drawn  from 
external  evidences  ;  yet  they  have  found  such  effects 
from  this  blessed  Book  that  they  would  be  no  more 
moved  by  the  insinuation,  than  if  they  were  told 
that  a  cunning  man,  or  set  of  men,  invented  the  sun, 
and  placed  it  in  the  firmament.  So  if  a  wise  So- 
cinian  was  to  tell  them  that  the  Saviour  was  only  a 
man  like  themselves,  they  would  conceive  just  such 
an  opinion  of  his  skill  in  divinity  as  a  philosopher 
would  do  of  a  clown's  skill  in  astronomy,  who  should 
affirm  that  the  sun  was  no  bigger  than  a  cart-wheel. 
— Newton,  1 725-1807. 

(1145.)  I  observe  a  sort  of  evidence  of  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  which  none  but  a  Christian  can  have, 
and  which  partly  depends  upon  a  moral  taste. 
Like  a  man  who  has  an  ear  for  music,  a  Christian 
will  perceive  harmony  and  sweetness  where  another, 
who  has  not  this  taste,  will  find  nothing  but  noise. 
— Cecil,  1 748-1810. 

(1146.)  A  Christian  has  also  an  evidence  of  ex- 
perience ;  like  that  of  a  man  who  has  long  dwelt  in 
a  house  which  another  has  only  walked  round  and 
examined  on  the  outside.  The  external  observer 
may  question  whether  anything  is  to  be  found  in  the 
house  at  which  he  looks  ;  but  it  is  much  too  late  for 
us  to  doubt  who  have  long  inhabited  the  dwelling  ; 
wi  cannot  unknow  what  we  have  kci^wn  :  v)e  cannot 


but  have  the  clearest  conviction  that  till  we  were 
brought  into  this  house,  we  were  destitute  of  the 
shelter,  provisions,  and  comforts  which  we  now 
enjoy,  and  of  which  we  are  so  desirous  that  others 
should  be  partakers.  I  stand  like  one  who  for  z 
long  time  has  been  imposed  upon  by  toys  and  tin- 
sel, but  at  length  feels  satisfied  that  he  has  found 
gold.  Some,  indeed,  try  to  persuade  me  that  I  am  still 
imposed  upon,  and  that  what  I  take  for  gold  is  bit 
base  metal.  I  therefore  proceed  to  prove  my  go'd 
by  every  method  of  trial  which  I  can  devise  :  I  put 
it  into  the  scale  ;  I  try  it  in  the  fire  ;  I  bring  it  to 
the  touchstone  ;  I  place  it  under  the  hammer ;  and 
I  find  it  still  pure  gold.  After  all  this,  shall  I  re- 
gard their  cry  who  have  never  thus  tried  it,  and 
whose  fears  and  lusts  oppose  the  trial  ? 

— Cecil,   1748-1810. 

(1147.)  I  have  been  informed  that  not  long  ago  a 
certain  infidel  lecturer  gave  an  opportunity'to  persons 
to  reply  to  him  after  his  oration,  and  he  was  of 
course  expecting  that  one  or  two  rashly  zealous  young 
men  would  rise  to  advance  the  common  arguments 
for  Christianity,  which  he  was  quite  prepared,  by 
hook  or  crook,  to  battle  with  or  laugh  down.  In- 
stead of  reasoners,  an  old  lady,  carrying  a  basket, 
wearing  an  ancient  bonnet,  and  altogether  dressed 
in  an  antique  fashion  which  marked  both  her  age 
and  her  poverty,  came  upon  the  platform.  Putti^ig 
down  her  basket  and  umbrella,  she  began,  and  said, 
"  I  paid  threepence  to  hear  something  better  than 
Jesus  Christ,  and  I  have  not  heard  it.  Now,  let  me 
tell  you  what  religion  has  done  for  me,  and  then  tell 
me  something  better,  or  else  you've  cheated  me  out 
of  the  threepence  which  I  paid  to  come  in.  Now," 
she  said,  "  I  have  been  a  widow  thirty  years,  and  I 
was  left  with  ten  children,  and  I  trusted  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  in  the  depth  of  poverty,  and  He  appear- 
ed for  me  and  comforted  me,  and  helped  me  to  bring 
up  my  children  so  that  they  have  grown  up  and 
turned  out  respectable.  None  of  you  can  tell  what 
the  troubles  of  a  poor  lone  woman  are,  but  the  Lord 
has  made  His  grace  all-sufiicient.  I  was  often  very 
sore  pressed,  but  my  prayers  were  heard  by  my  Father 
in  heaven,  and  I  was  always  delivered.  Now,  you 
are  going  to  tell  me  something  better  than  that — 
better  for  a  poor  woman  like  me  !  I  have  been  to 
the  Lord  sometimes  when  I've  been  very  low  indeed, 
and  there's  been  scarcely  anything  for  us  to  eat,  and 
I've  always  found  His  providence  has  been  good  and 
kind  to  me.  And  when  I  lay  very  sick,  I  thought 
I  was  dying,  and  my  heart  was  ready  to  break  at 
leaving  my  poor  fatherless  boys  and  girls,  and  there 
was  nothing  kept  me  up  but  the  thought  of  Jesus 
and  His  faithful  love  to  my  poor  soul ;  and  you  tell 
me  that  it  was  all  nonsense.  Those  who  are  young 
and  foolish  may  believe  you,  but  after  what  I  ]ia\e 
gone  through  I  know  there  is  a  reality  in  religion, 
and  it  is  no  fancy.  Tell  me  something  better  than 
what  God  has  done  for  me,  or  else,  I  tell  you,  you 
have  cheated  me  out  of  my  threepence.  Tell  me 
something  better  !  "  The  lecturer  was  a  good  hand 
at  an  argument,  but  such  a  mode  of  controversy  was 
novel,  and  therefore  he  gave  up  the  contest,  and 
merely  said,  "Really,  the  dear  old  woman  was  so 
happy  in  her  delusion  he  should  not  like  to  un- 
deceive her."  "No,"  she  said,  "that  won't  do. 
Truth  is  truth,  and  your  laughing  can't  alter  it, 
Jesus  Christ  has  been  all  this  to  me,  and  I  could  not 
sit  down  in  the  hall  and  hear  you  talk  against  Him 
wl''  Dut    speaking    up    for    Him,    and    asking   you 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(     203     ) 


CHRISTIANITY. 


whether  you  could  tell  me  something  better  than 
what  He  has  done  for  me.  I've  tried  and  proved 
Him,  and  that's  more  than  you  have." 

Herein  is  power,  logic  invincible,  reasoning  not 
to  be  gainsayed.  The  testing  and  proving  of  God  ; 
getting  His  love  really  shed  abroad  in  the  heart, 
this  is  the  great  internail  evidence  of  the  Gospel. 

— Sptirgeon. 

(1148.)  What  do  1  care  if  it  should  be  told  to  me 
that  Christianity  stumbles  in  philosophy  at  every 
step?  Let  me  become  personally  the  recipient  of 
that  Divine  influence,  and  my  experience  is  worth 
more  to  me  than  other  people's  reasonings.  You 
may  demonstrate  that  it  is  not  possible  for  a  flower 
to  grow  in  a  given  vale,  but  if  I  find  it  there,  what 
is  your  reasoning  worth  to  me  ?  Flowers  are  gener- 
ally the  best  evidence  as  to  where  they  will  or  will 
not  grow,  botanists  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 

I  have  bought  tropical  morning-glory  seeds  for 
the  greenhouse,  with  the  assurance  of  the  seedsman 
that  I  could  not  raise  them  out  of  doors.  I  did 
raise  them  out  of  doors  ;  that  is  the  answer  I  gave 
to  him.  '*  But,"  he  says  "it  is  not  possible,  in  our 
summer,  to  raise  them;"  but  I  did  it.  "The 
summer  is  not  long  enough,  or  warm  enough,  to 
raise  them  here."  I  have  raised  them,  and  I  shall 
not  give  up  my  argument  upon  that  question. 

If  a  man  says  that  there  never  was  a  Christ,  or 
that  He  was  only  a  man,  I  answer  that  I  have  found 
Him  of  whom  Moses  and  the  prophets  spake.  I 
have  asked  Him,  "What  wilt  Thou?"  and  He 
has  told  me.  I  have  put  my  soul  and  my  heart,  as 
He  has  commanded  me,  into  His  hand.  Will  any 
man  now  undertake  to  reason  me  out  of  the  result  ? 
I  know  in  whom  I  have  trusted,  and  know  what  He 
has  done  for  me.  Is  the  music  of  my  life,  the  in- 
spiration of  every  faculty,  the  transformation  of  my 
views,  the  regeneration  of  my  hopes — are  these 
nothing  ?  Am  I  to  go  back  eighteen  hundred  years, 
with  the  sceptical  philosopher,  to  reason  about  Jeru- 
salem and  about  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  not 
reason  upon  my  own  actual,  daily,  positive  experi- 
aice? 

If  a  man,  intelligent  in  other  respects,  not  given 
to  enthusiasm,  not  diseased  by  morbid  feelings,  but 
rational  in  all  things,  whom  you  would  believe  in 
respect  to  any  and  all  of  the  transactions  of  daily 
life,  bears  witness,  not  alone,  but  with  multitudes — 
with  a  long  succession  of  witnesses — that  there  is 
such  a  fact  as  Christ  in  the  soul,  and  the  hope  of 
glory ;  that  there  is  such  an  experience  as  that  the 
Holy  Ghost  descends  into  the  soul,  cleanses  it,  in- 
spires it,  recognises  it,  fills  it  with  faith,  and  love, 
and  hope,  and  joy,  and  that  it  abides  with  us — is 
not  that  testimony  to  be  accepted  ?  Will  you  ac- 
cept a  man's  reasoning  upon  things  that  happened 
a  thousand  years  ago,  and  reject  his  positive  testi- 
mony in  regard  to  things  that  are  occurring  every 
day  ?  Nay  !  When  there  is  a  succession  of  wit- 
nesses coming  through  a  period  of  more  than  two 
thousand  years  down  to  us,  bearing  witness  in 
every  possible  emergency — bearing  witness  from  the 
stake  ;  from  the  dungeon  ;  from  the  battle-field  ; 
from  the  mountain  cave ;  from  sick-chambers — 
when  we  see  human  life  transformed — characters 
efiulging  fron.  weakness  and  obscurity — when  all 
the  records  of  the  past  are  made  luminous  with  the 
memorials  of  what  has  been  done  in  men's  souls  by 
the  power  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ,  are  we  to 
take  this  iQng  t'-jui  of  witnesses  that  have  lived  but 


are  now  passed  away,  and  all  that  now  live  anc  jeai 
the  same  testimony,  and  count  it  all  as  nothing  ? 

— Beecher. 

13.  Importance  of  a  study  of  Its  evidences, 

(1149.)  "Evidences  of  Christianity!"  exclaims 
the  late  Mr.  Coleridge  in  one  of  the  most  populai 
of  his   prose  works ;   "I    am   weary   of  the  word. 

Make  a  man  feel  the  want  of  it and  you 

may  safely  trust  it  to  its  own  evidence." 

There  can  be  little  doubt,  I  think,  that  these 
words  express  the  prevailing  sentiments  of  a  very 
considerable  number  of  Christians  at  the  present 
day ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  for  many  years 
back,  there  has  been  a  general  distaste  for  that 
apologetic  religious  literature  which  was  popular  in 
the  last  century. 

This  has  doubtless  been  greatly  owing  to  a  re- 
action from  the  disproportionate  attention  paid  to 
such  literature  by  the  divines  of  a  former  age,  and 
has  taken  place  in  virtue  of  that  general  rule  which 
seems  to  ordain  that  an  over  value  of  any  branch  of 
knowledge  in  one  generation  shall  be  attended  by  an 
unjust  depreciation  of  it  in  the  next.  The  argu« 
mentative  value  of  things  even  so  important  as  the 
evidences  of  religion  may,  unquestionably,  engross 
the  public  mind  too  much  ;  and  he  who  is  contin- 
ually occupied  in  contemplating  and  stating  the 
proofs  of  its  truth  will  fail  of  reaching  the  just  stan- 
dard of  a  Christian  teacher  or  a  Christian  man. 
Such  a  person  will  be  like  a  prince  who  employs  all 
his  time,  and  strength,  and  resources  in  raising 
fortresses  about  a  territory  which  he  does  not  care- 
fully govern  ;  or  like  a  landlord  who  lives  but  to 
accumulate  muniments  of  an  estate  which  he  neglects 
to  till.  But  the  folly  of  such  conduct  would  be  no 
excuse  for  suffering  our  frontiers  to  lie  open,  or  our 
title-deeds  to  be  lost.  Yet  something  very  like  such 
advice  is  sometimes  offered  to  us.  Our  forefathers, 
perhaps,  were  too  apt  to  include  all  strong  energy  of 
emotion  and  play  of  fancy  in  their  general  and  un- 
sparing censures  of  enthusiasm  ;  and  some  of  us  are 
disposed  to  redress  the  balance  by  appealing  ex- 
clusively to  the  imagination  and  the  feelings.  We 
see  that  it  will  not  do  to  address  the  head  alone, 
and  therefore  we  will  not  address  it  at  all,  but  speak 
only  to  the  heart.  —  Thomson. 

14.  What  is  meant  by  a  "candid"  consideration 
of  its  evidences. 

(1150.)  A  candid  and  unbiassed  state  of  mind, 
which  is  sometimes  called  indifference,  or  impar- 
tiality, i.e.,  of  the  judgment,  does  not  imply  an 
indifference  of  the  will — an  absence  of  all  wish  on 
either  side,  but  merely  an  absence  of  all  influence 
of  the  wishes  in  forming  our  decision, — all  leaning 
of  the  judgment  on  the  side  of  inclination, — all  per- 
version of  the  evidence  in  consequence.  That  we 
should  wish  to  find  truth  on  one  side,  rather  than  on 
the  other,  is  in  many  cases  not  only  unavoidable  but 
commendable ;  but  to  think  that  true  which  we 
wish,  without  impartially  weighing  the  evidence  on 
both  sides,  is  undeniably  a  folly,  though  a  very 
common  one.  If  a  mode  of  effectual  and  speedy 
cure  be  proposed  to  a  sick  man,  he  cannot  but  wish 
that  the  result  of  his  inquiries  concerning  it  may  be 
a  well-grounded  conviction  of  the  safety  and  eflicacy 
of  the  remedy  prescribed.  It  would  be  no  mark  of 
wisdom  to  be  indifferent  to  the  restoration  of  health, 
but  if  his  wishes  should  lead  him  (as  is  frequently 
the  case)  to  put  implicit  confidence  in  the  remedy 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(    204    ) 


CHRIS  TI A  NITY. 


without  any  just  grounds  for  it,  he  would  deservedly 
be  taxed  with  folly. 

In  like  manner  (to  take  the  instance  above 
alluded  to),  a  good  man  will  indeed  wish  to  find  the 
evidence  ol  the  Christian  religion  satisfactory,  but 
will  weigh  the  evidence  the  more  carefully,  on 
account  of  the  importance  of  the  question. 

—  Whately. 

16.  Its  universal  adaptation. 

(115 1.)  The  grand  characteristic  of  Christianity  is 
adaptation  !  Its  unfolding  powers  suit  themselves 
to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  ;  its  breath  of  life 
is  native  air  alike  when  wafted  to  the  prairies  of  the 
West,  or  borne  over  the  Red  Sea  waves  to  the  chil- 
dren of  the  East.  It  comes  like  the  refreshing  rain 
from  heaven  passing  over  the  face  of  the  earth, 
which  invigorates  equally  the  tiny  blades  of  grass 
and  the  forest  monarchs  that  tower  above  them. 
Such  is  the  Gospel  of  Christ  !  It  comes  not  for  one, 
but  for  all.  It  has  a  word  in  season  for  every  man ; 
warning,  or  comfort,  or  consolation,  support  or  sym- 
pathy for  all  states  and  conditions  of  men. 

— Bellfw. 

16.  Two  arguments  for  Its  truth. 

(1152.)  There  are  two  considerations  upon  which 
my  faith  in  Christ  is  built  as  upon  a  rock  :  the  fall 
of  man,  the  redemption  of  man,  and  the  resurrec- 
tion of  man,  the  three  cardinal  doctrines  of  our 
religion,  are  such  as  human  ingenuity  could  never 
have  invented  ;  therefore  they  must  be  Divine.  The 
other  argument  is  this  :  If  the  prophecies  have  been 
fulfilled  (of  which  there  is  abundant  demonstration), 
the  Scripture  must  be  the  Word  of  God  ;  and  if  the 
Scripture  is  the  Word  of  God,  Christianity  must  be 
true.  — Dr.  Edward  Young,  the  poet : 

Ccrwper  to  Lady  Heskcth,  July  12,  1765. 

17.  Its  prohibition  of  pleasure. 

(II 53.)  Or  will  they  change  the  note,  and  instead 
of  pleading  that  Christianity  leads  to  licentiousness, 
object  that  it  bears  too  hard  upon  the  pleasures  of 
mankind,  and  lays  them  under  too  severe  restraints  ; 
or  that  its  penalties  are  excessive  and  cruel?  But 
does  it  rob  mankind  of  any  pleasures  worthy  the 
rational  nature,  worthy  the  pursuit  of  creatures  form- 
ed for  immortality,  and  consistent  with  the  good  of 
tlie  whole?  It  restrains  them  indeed,  but  it  is  only 
as  a  physician  restrains  his  patient  from  poison  or 
any  improper  regimen  ;  it  restrains  men  from  living 
like  beasts  ;  it  restrains  them  from  those  pleasures 
which  will  lain  their  souls  and  bodies  in  the  event ; 
it  restrains  them  from  gratifying  a  private  passion  at 
the  expense  of  the  public  ;  in  short,  it  restrains  them 
from  making  themselves  and  others  miserable. 
Hard  restraint  indeed  !  and  the  Deists  !  to  be  sure, 
are  generous  patrons  of  human  liberty,  who  would 
free  us  from  such  grievances  as  these  !  However, 
this  objection  lets  us  into  the  secret,  and  informs  us 
of  the  reason  why  our  pretended  free-thinkers  are 
such  enemies  to  Christianity.  It  is  because  it  checks 
their  lusts,  and  will  not  permit  them  to  act  as  well 
as  to  think  freely,  i.e.,  as  they  please. 

— Davies. 

18.  Why  it  is  hated. 

(1154.)  The  cause  of  enmity  against  real  Chris- 
tianity is  in  the  heart.  The  angel  Gabriel  might  ex- 
liibit  the  truth,  but  the  heart  would  rise  in  enmity. 
To  suppose  that  there  is  any  way  of  preaching  the 
Cross  so  as  not  to  offend  the  world,  is  to  know  no- 
thing -)i  the  subject. 


There  are  many  occasions,  however,  of  calling 
forth  this  enmity.  Any  man  who  should  bleed  me, 
would  put  me  to  pain  ;  but  he  would  greatly  aggra- 
vate my  pain  if  he  rudely  tore  my  skin.  Occasions 
may  render  the  reception  of  that  truth  morally  im- 
possible which,  under  the  most  favourable  circum- 
stances, is  received  with  difficulty. 

Ignorance  in  ministers  is  an  occasion  of  exciting 
enmity  against  Christianity.  A  man  may  betray  \\\- 
norance  on  almost  everj'  subject  except  the  wav  ol 
salvation  ;  but  if  others  see  him  to  be  a  fool  off  his 
own  ground,  they  will  think  him  a  fool  on  that 
ground.  It  is  a  great  error  to  rail  against  human 
learning,  so  as  to  imply  an  undervaluing  of  know- 
ledge. A  man  may  have  little  of  what  is  called 
learning,  but  he  must  have  knowledge.  Bunyan  was 
such  a  man.  — Cecil. 

19.  The  reasonableness  of  its  requirements, 

(1155.)  Christianity  forbids  no  necessary  occu- 
pations, no  reasonable  indulgences,  no  ir.'.nocent  re- 
laxations. It  allows  us  to  use  the  world,  provided 
we  do  not  abuse  it.  It  does  not  spread  before  us  a 
delicious  banquet,  and  then  come  with  a  "  touch  not, 
taste  not,  handle  not."  All  it  requires  is,  that  our 
liberty  degenerate  not  into  licentiousness,  our  amuse- 
ments into  dissipation,  our  industry  into  incessant 
toil,  our  carefulness  into  extreme  anxiety  and  endless 
solicitude.  So  far  from  forbidding  us  to  engage  in 
business,  it  expressly  commands  us  not  to  be  sloth- 
ful in  it,  and  to  labour  with  our  hands  for  the  things 
that  be  needful ;  it  enjoins  every  one  to  abide  in  the 
calling  wherein  he  was  called,  and  perform  all  the 
duties  of  it.  It  even  stigmatises  those  that  provide 
not  for  their  own,  with  telling  them  that  they  are 
worse  than  infidels.  When  it  requires  us  to  "be 
temperate  in  all  things,"  it  plainly  tells  us  that  we 
7itay  use  all  things  temperately  ;  when  it  directs  us 
to  "make  our  moderation  known  unto  all  men," 
this  evidently  implies  that,  within  the  bounds  of 
moderation,  we  may  enjoy  all  the  reasonable  con- 
veniences and  comforts  of  the  present  life. 

— Forteus. 

(1156.)  Now  you  say,  alas  !  Christianity  is  hard  -. 
I  grant  it ;  but  gainful  and  happy.  I  contemn  the 
difficulty  when  I  respect  the  advantage.  Tho 
greatest  labours  that  have  answerable  requitals  are 
less  than  the  least  that  have  no  reward.  Believe  me, 
when  I  look  to  the  reward  I  would  not  have  the 
work  easier.  It  is  a  good  IMaster  whom  we  serve, 
who  not  only  pays,  but  gives  ;  not  only  after  the 
proportion  of  our  earnings,  but  of  His  own  mercy. 
— Hall,  1574-1656. 

20.  Can  only  be  learned  by  practice. 

(1157.)  The  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  is  altogether 
a  practical  thing.  Just  consider  how  we  are  taught 
anything  else  that  is  practical.  It  is  not  by  hearing 
or  reading  about  making  shoes  that  a  man  becomes 
a  shoemaker,  but  by  trying  to  make  them. 

—A.   W.  Hare. 

ai.  Should  g'ovem  our  whole  life. 

(11 58.)  Christianity  did  not  come  from  heaven  to 
be  the  amusement  of  an  idle  hour,  to  be  the  food  of 
mere  imagination  ;  to  be  as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one 
that  hath  a  pleasant  voice,  and  playeth  well  upon  an 
instrument.  No  :  it  is  intended  to  be  the  guide,  the 
guardian,  the  companion  of  all  hours  ;  it  is  intended 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(    205     ) 


CHRISTIANITY. 


to  be  the  food  of  our  immortal  spirits  ;  it  is  intended 
to  be  the  serious  occupation  of  our  whole  existence. 

— Bishop  Jibb. 

22.  Its  motive  power. 

(1159.)  Go  into  a  large  manufacturing  establish- 
ment. If  you  wiij  noticecarefully,  you  will  perceive 
a  large  shaft  running  the  whole  length  of  the  build- 
ing. To  this  are  attached  wheels,  and  bands  go  from 
tliese  wheels  to  other  wheels,  and  in  these  is  inserted 
short  shafting,  and  to  it  are  attached  augers,  saws, 
knives,  and  chisels  ;  and  by  these  an  immense 
amount  of  mechanical  work  is  done.  But  what  is 
the  cause  of  all  this  motion  ?  Where  is  the  secret 
powei  wiiich  makes  all  this  machinery  do  the  work 
of  five  hundred  men  ?  The  answer  is  easily  given. 
It  is  steam.  Tet  the  steam  go  down,  and  this  whole 
machhiery  would  become  as  still  and  silent  as  the 
grave.  So  is  the  love  of  Christ  the  main-spring 
of  the  gospel — the  motive-power  which  puts 
all  the  machinery  of  Christianity  in  operation. 

— C.  M.  Temple. 

23.  Is  Independent  of  human  help. 

(1160.)  The  real  security  of  Christianity  is  to  be 
found  in  its  benevolent  morality,  in  its  exquisite 
adaptation  to  tlie  human  heart,  in  the  facility  with 
which  its  scheme  accommodates  itself  to  the  capacity 
of  every  human  intellect,  in  the  consolation  which  it 
bears  to  the  house  of  mourning,  in  the  light  with 
which  it  briglitens  the  great  mystci7  of  the  grave. 
To  such  a  system  it  can  bring  no  addition  of  dignity 
or  of  strength,  ttiat  it  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  com- 
mon law.  It  is  not  now  for  the  first  time  left  to 
lely  on  the  force  of  its  own  evidences  and  the 
attractions  of  its  own  beauty.  Its  sublime  theology 
confounded  the  Grecian  schools  in  the  fair  conflict 
of  reason  with  reason.  The  bravest  and  wisest  of 
the  Cccsars  found  their  arms  and  their  policy  un- 
availing, When  opposed  to  the  weapons  that  were 
not  carnal,  and  the  kingdom  that  was  not  of  this 
world.  The  victory  which  I'orphyiy  and  Diocletian 
failed  to  gain  is  not,  to  all  appearance,  reserved  for 
any  of  those  who  have,  in  this  age,  directed  their 
attacks  against  the  last  restraint  of  the  powerful,  and 
the  last  hope  of  the  wretched.  The  whole  history 
of  Christianity  shows  that  she  is  in  far  greater  danger 
of  being  corrupted  by  the  alliance  of  power,  than  of 
being  crushed  by  its  opposition.  Those  who  thrust 
temporal  sovereignty  upon  her  treat  her  as  their  pro- 
totypes treated  her  Author.  They  bow  the  knee,  and 
spii  upon  her  ;  they  cry  "  Hail  !  "  and  smite  her  on 
the  cheek  ;  they  put  a  sceptre  in  her  hand,  but  it  is 
a  fragile  reed  ;  they  crown  her,  but  it  is  with  thorns  ; 
they  cover  with  purple  the  wounds  which  their  own 
hantls  have  inHicted  on  her  ;  and  inscribe  magnificent 
letters  over  the  cross  on  which  they  have  fixed  her 
to  perish  in  ignominy  and  pain. 

— Macaulay,  1 800-1 859. 

24.  Its  progress. 

(1161.)  All  the  might  of  the  world  is  now  on  the 
side  of  Christianity.  Those  barbarous,  inchoate 
powers  which  still  cling  to  heathenism,  are  already 
trembling  before  the  advancing  strides  of  the  Chris- 
tian nations  ;  Christian  just  enougli  to  rouse  all  their 
energies,  and  to  make  them  intensely  ajnbitious  and 
on  the  alert  to  increase  their  own  dominion,  without 
having  learned  Christianity's  highest  lesson,  the 
lesson  of  love. 

Even  that  heathenism  which  seems  to  have  some 


power,  is  only  waiting  for  its  time  of  decay.  In  vast, 
undisturbed  forests,  whose  intertwinmer  houghs  ex- 
clude the  light,  moisture  is  generated,  an  ^  rills,  fed 
by  marshes  and  quiet  pools,  unite  to  form  running 
rivers.  l!ut  let  the  trees  be  cut  down,  and  the 
ground  be  laid  open  to  the  sun,  and  the  swamps  will 
dry  up,  and  the  rivers  run  no  more.  So  is  it  with 
the  Brahmins,  and  with  all  the  effete  teachers  of 
heathenism.  As  long  as  the  dense  shadows  of  ig- 
norance brood  over  the  people,  they  will  possess 
some  little  trickling  power ;  but  let  the  light  of 
knowledge  shine  in  upon  the  masses,  and  the  chan- 
nels of  their  influence  will  dry  up  and  be  forgotten. 

Already,  war,  with  its  bloody  hand,  raps  nt  the 
gate  of  empire  in  India  and  in  China.  England 
presses  upon  them.  Russia  is  steadily  moving  through 
craunching  snows  to  the  southward.  The  great  na- 
tions, like  lions  roused  from  their  lairs,  are  roaring 
and  springing  upon  the  prey,  and  the  little  nations, 
like  packs  of  hungry  wolves,  are  standing  by  licking 
their  jaws,  and  wailing  for  their  share  of  the  spoils. 
The  world  is  out  hunting — what  ?  heathenism.  And 
it  will  be  caught ;  it  will  be  unearthed.  A  little 
while  and  there  will  be  no  den  so  deep,  or  forest  so 
dark,  or  island  so  remote,  that  it  can  find  refuge. 

—  Bcc'c/ier. 

(1162.)  You  tell  your  child  that  this  pine-tree  out 
here  in  the  sandy  field  is  one  day  going  to  be  as 
large  as  that  great  sonorous  pine  that  sings  to  every 
wind  in  the  wood.  The  child,  incredulous,  deter- 
mines to  watch  and  see  whether  the  field-pine  really 
docs  grow  and  become  as  large  as  you  say  it  will. 
So,"  the  next  morning,  he  goes  out  and  takes  a  look 
at  it,  and  comes  back  and  says,  "It  has  not  grown 
a  particle."  At  night  he  goes  out  and  looks  at  it 
again,  and  comes  back  and  says,  "  It  has  not  grown 
a  bit."  The  next  week  he  goes  out,  and  looks  at  it 
again,  and  comes  back  and  says,  "  It  has  not  grown 
yet.  Father  said  it  would  be  as  large  as  the  pine- 
tree  in  the  wood,  but  I  do  not  see  any  likelihood  of 
its  becoming  so." 

How  long  did  it  take  the  pine-tree  in  the  wood 
to  grow?  Two  hundred  years.  Then  men  who  lived 
when  it  began  to  grow  have  been  buried,  and  gene- 
rations besides  have  come  and  gone  since  then. 

And  do  you  suppose  that  God's  kingdom  is  going 
to  grow  so  that  you  can  look  at  it  and  see  tha*  it  has 
grown  during  any  particular  day  ?  You  cannot  see  it 
grow.  All  around  you  are  things  that  are  growing, 
but  that  you  cannot  see  grow.  And  if  it  is  so  with 
trees,  and  things  that  spring  out  cf  the  ground,  how 
much  more  is  it  so  with  the  kingdom  of  God  !  That 
kingdom  is  advancing  surely,  though  it  advances 
slowly,  and  though  it  is  invisible  to  us. 

You  will  remember  our  Master's  beautiful  parable, 
where  He  says,  "The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like 
unto  leaven,  which  a  woman  took  and  hid  in  three 
measures  of  meal  till  the  whole  was  leavened."  I 
suppose  you  know  what  that  means.  I  go  into  your 
kitchen  when  you  are  baking  bread,  and  ask, 
"What  is  that  you  are  stirring  into  that  flour?" 
You  say,  "  It  is  yeast."  I  ask,  "  What  is  it  for?" 
You  say,  "It  is  to  raise  the  bread."  I  imagine 
that  it  is  to  raise  it  in  a  way  that  shall  be  perceptible 
to  my  senses,  and  say,  "  Let  me  see  it  do  it."  You 
set  the  bread  away  in  a  warm  place,  or  at  the  south, 
in  a  cool  place,  if  you  can  find  one,  and  you  say, 
"Now  it  will  rise."  After  watching  it  closely  for 
a  whiH,  I  say  to  you,  "  I  do  not  see  that  it  has  risen 
at  all."     You  say,  "  Bless  you,  my  child,  you  can- 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(    206    ) 


CHRISTIAN /TV. 


not  see  it  rise  ! "  I  go  away,  and  stay  till  I  think 
;♦  will  have  come  up,  if  there  is  any  such  thing  as  its 
coming  up,  and  then  go  back,  but  I  cannot  see  that 
it  has  undergone  any  change.  I  wait  and  wait,  and 
wait,  and  at  last  say,  1  do  not  believe  it  is  going  to 
rise."  And  you  say,  "It  has  risen  already,"  and 
tear  it  open  ;  and  lo  !  it  is  full  of  holes  ;  and  you 
say.  "  Now  do  not  you  believe  that  it  has  risen  ?  It 
has  been  rising  all  the  time,  only  you  could  not  see 
it  rise." 

Christ  says  that  His  kingdom  is  just  like  that.  It 
is  a  great  kingdom,  which  extends  all  over  the  world, 
and  into  which  He  has  put  the  leaven  of  Divine  grace. 
That  grace  is  like  yeast,  and  it  works  in  this  king- 
dom of  Christ. 

You  cannot  see  it,  even  if  you  watch  for  it  ;  but 
there  it  is  ;  and  if,  after  a  while,  you  go  and  look  at 
it,  you  will  be  convinced  that  it  has  been  working, 
by  the  results  which  it  has  produced.  You  will 
find  that  things  have  been  done,  though  you  could 
not  see  them  done.  Men  are  becoming  better  the 
world  over,  though  you  cannot  trace  the  process  by 
which  they  are  becoming  better.  Christ's  kingdom 
goes  forward  from  age  to  age,  though  you  cannot 
discern  the  steps  by  which  it  is  going  forward. 
While  men,  as  individuals,  pass  off  from  the  stage 
of  life,  God's  work  does  not  stop.  — Beecher. 

25.  The  ^eat  obstacle  to  Its  progress. 

(1163.)  The  leligious  world  has  many  features 
which  are  distressing  to  a  holy  man.  He  sees  in  it 
much  proposal  and  ostentation,  covering  much  sur- 
face. But  Christianity  is  deep  and  substantial,  A 
man  is  soon  enlisted  ;  but  he  is  not  soon  made  a 
soldier.  He  is  easily  put  into  the  ranks,  to  make  a 
show  there ;  but  he  is  not  so  easily  brought  to  do 
the  duties  of  the  ranks.  We  are  too  much  like  an 
army  of  Asiatics  :  they  count  well,  and  cut  a  good 
figure  ;  but  when  they  come  into  action,  one  has  no 
flint,  another  has  no  cartridge— the  arms  of  one  are 
rusty,  and  another  has  not  learnt  to  handle  them. 
This  was  not  the  complaint  equally  at  all  times.  It 
belongs,  too,  peculiarly  to  the  present  day.  The 
fault  lies  in  the  muster.  We  are  like  Falstaff :  he 
took  the  king's  money  to  press  good  men  and  true, 
but  got  together  such  ragamuffins  that  he  was 
ashamed  to  muster  them.  What  is  the  conse- 
quence ?  People  groan  under  their  connections. 
Res]->ectable  persons  tell  me  such  stories  of  their 
servants  who  profess  religion  as  to  shame  and  dis- 
tress me.  High  pretensions  to  spirituality  1  Warm 
zeal  for  certain  sentiments  !  Priding  themselves  in 
Mr.  Siich-a-one's  ministry  !  But  what  becomes  of 
their  duties? — Oh,  these  are  "beggarly  elements" 
indeed  !  Such  persons  are  alive  to  religious  talk  ; 
but  if  you  speak  to  them  on  religious  tempers,  the 
subject  grows  irksome.  — Cecil,  174S-1810. 

(1164.)  Tomochichi,  chief  of  the  Chickasaws,  said 
to  Wesley,  "  I  will  go  up  and  speak  to  the  wise  men 

of  the  nation,  and  I  hope  they  will  hear.  But  we 
would  not  be  made  Christians  as  the  Spaniards 
make  Christians  ;  we  would  be  taught  before  we  are 
baptized."  He  felt  the  want  unconsciously  acknow- 
ledged by  the  King  of  Siam,  spoken  of  by  John 
Locke  in  his  chapter  on  Probability.  A  Dutch 
ambassador,  when  entertaining  the  king  with  the 
peculiarities  of  Holland,  amongst  other  things  told 
the  sovereign  that  the  water  in  Holland  would  some- 
times in  cokl  weather  be  so  hard  that  men  walked 
upon  it,  and  that  it  would  bear  an  elephant  if  he 


were  there.  To  which  the  king  replied,  "  Hitherto 
I  have  believed  the  strange  things  you  have  tc.d  me, 
because  I  looked  upon  you  as  a  sober,  fair  man,  but 
now  I  am  sure  you  lie."  But  Tomochichi  had  an 
eye  that  saw  the  faults  of  the  colonists,  if  he  did  not 
understand  their  religion.  When  urged  to  listen  to 
the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  he  keenly  replied, 
"  Why,  there  are  Christians  at  Savannah  !  there  are 
Christians  at  Frederica  1  Christian  much  drunk  ! 
Christian  beat  men  I  Christian  tell  lies  I  Devil 
Christian  I  Me  no  Christian  ! "  This  recalls  tht! 
pathetic  story  of  the  West  Indian  cazique,  who,  "at 
the  stake,  refused  life,  temporal  or  eternal,  at  the 
price  of  conversion,  asking  where  he  should  go  to 
live  so  happily.  He  was  told — in  heaven  ;  and 
then  he  at  once  refused,  on  the  ground  that  the 
whites  would  be  there  ;  and  he  had  rather  live  any- 
where, or  nowhere,  than  dwell  with  such  people  as 
he  had  found  the  white  Christians  to  be."  Almost 
the  first  word,  says  Dr.  Medliurst,  uttered  by  a 
Chinese,  when  anything  is  said  concerning  the  ex- 
cellence of  Christianity,  is,  "  Why  do  Christians 
bring  us  opium,  and  bring  it  directly  in  defiance  of 
our  laws?  The  vile  drug  has  destroyed  my  son,  has 
ruined  my  brother,  and  well-nigh  led  me  to  beggar 
my  wife  and  children.  Surely  those  who  import 
such  a  deleterious  substance,  and  injure  me  for  the 
sake  of  gain,  cannot  wish  me  well,  or  be  in  posses- 
sion of  a  religion  better  than  my  own.  Go  first  and 
persuade  your  own  countrymen  to  relinquish  their 
nefarious  traffic  ;  and  give  me  a  prescription  to  cor- 
rect this  vile  habit,  and  tlien  I  will  listen  to  your 
exhortations  on  the  subject  of  Christianity  I " 

— Russell. 

26.  Is  Indestructible. 

(i  165.)  There  is  a  picture  frontispiece  in  Wycliffe'f 
Bible  which,  to  my  mind,  is  very  significant,  very  pro- 
phetic. There  is  a  fire  burning  and  spreading  rather 
rapidly,  representing  Christianity  ;  and  around  the 
spreading  tire  are  congregated  a  considerable  number 
of  significant  and  most  important  individuals,  all 
endeavouring  to  devise  methods  whereby  they  can 
put  the  fire  out.  Among  the  number  I  see  there 
one  gentleman  with  horns  and  a  tail,  I  suppose 
representing  his  Satanic  Majesty  ;  and  another  is 
the  Pope  of  Rome,  with  a  few  red  coated  cardinals  ; 
Mahomet  I  believe  has  a  representative  there  too, 
and  there  is  another  representative  of  infidelity; 
and  they  are  all  devising  some  means,  suggesting 
some  method  whereby  to  extinguish  the  fire,  and 
after  considerable  cogitation  one  of  them  suggests 
that  they  should  all  make  a  desperate  effort  to  blow 
on  the  fire  till  they  blow  it  out.  The  resolution  is 
adopted,  and  there  they  are,  with  swollen  cheeks 
and  extended  lips,  blowing  upon  the  fire  with  all 
their  migiit,  but,  instead  of  blowing  it  out,  they  are 
blowing  it  up,  and  they  blow  themselves  out  of 
breath  before  they  blow  the  fire  out.  It  is  an 
unquenchable  flame,  and  no  human  power  can  ex- 
tinguish it.  — R.  Roberts. 

27.  Its  ultimate  triumph. 

(1166.)  I  stood  some  years  ago  on  the  top  of  the 
Riffelberg,  that  grand  mountain  which  springs  out 
of  the  valley  of  the  Zermat.  It  was  early  morning. 
The  stars  were  still  shining  with  a  lustre  that  became 
dimmer  and  dimmer  in  the  light  shed  from  the  as 
•  et  uncertain  sun.  There  was  darkness  in  the 
alley,  and  silence,  except  for  the  nound  of  waler- 
lallb.  on  the  right  and  on  the  left.     Suddenly  the 


CHRISTIANITY. 


(     207     ) 


CHR.  STIANITY. 


peak  Mount  Cervin  was  illuminated,  and  then  one 
by  one  the  whole  amphitheatre  of  mountains  was 
kindled  by  the  king  of  day,  and  the  more  he 
ascended  into  the  heavens  the  more  his  light  was 
ditfiised,  till  the  shadows  were  startled  and  chased 
away  from  the  valley,  and  night  had  gone  from  the 
soil.  Thus  shall  it  be  with  the  Bible,  and  thus  shall 
it  be  with  Him  who  is  its  Lord,  its  Giver,  and  its 
Theme.  He  shall  rise  more  and  more,  covering 
mountains  and  filling  valleys,  until  the  kingdoms  of 
thi'i  world  shall  become  the  kingdom  of  our  Lord, 
and  He  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever.      — Mdlor. 

(1167.)  We  see  some  signs  of  the  fulfilment  of  the 
prediction.  But  the  question  I  ask  is  this — Is  it 
our  prerogative,  our  duty,  to  go  by  signs,  or  have 
we  to  take  our  stand  on  a  command  and  a  promise 
to  go  and  execute  that  command  whether  the  sign 
appear  or  do  not  appear?  The  Israelites  received 
a  command  to  go  and  take  Jericho,  and  they  went. 
The  city  was  to  be  taken  by  circumambulation. 
They  went  round  once,  but  not  a  brick  of  the  walls 
fell,  and  they  went  round  a  second  time,  and  a 
third,  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  time,  and  still  all  the 
bricks  were  there;  firmly  cemented,  and  the  walls 
stood.  The  defenders  of  Jericho  would  look  on 
those  wonderful  walkers,  and  one  can  imagine  them 
saying,  It  is  a  new  mode  of  assault  you  are  adopting  ; 
we  wonder  how  long  you  will  have  to  walk  before 
the  walls  fall ;  Jericho  will  stand  for  a  long  time  if 
it  is  to  be  taken  by  walking.  Nevertheless,  the 
Israelites  held  in  their  hands  the  promise,  and  they 
felt  it  in  their  hearts,  and  they  went  round  the  last 
time  and  the  walls  fell  to  the  ground.  And  if  it 
should  be  so  that  the  final  triumph  of  Christianity 
should  come  thus  suddenly,  why  should  we  look  for 
signs  ?  Does  not  the  Lord  say  that  the  kingdom  of 
God  Cometh  not  by  observation  ?  We  know  there- 
fore that  we  shall  accomplish  our  purpose.  Does 
not  our  Lord  say,  "  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass 
away,  but  not  one  jot  or  tittle  of  My  Word  shall 
pass  away  ?  "  — Mellor. 

(1168.)  We  cannot  despair  of  success.  What, 
though  the  dreary  winter  of  the  world's  moral  life 
may  have  lasted  far  longer  than  the  eager  hopes  of 
the  Church  anticipated  ?  What,  though  the  thick 
darkness  of  an  apparently  eternal  night  may  have 
hung  for  centuries  over  the  vast  majority  of  our  race  ? 
We  do  not,  we  cannot  despair.  Not  suddenly — 
not  in  a  moment — was  it  reasonable  to  expect  that 
the  bright  and  blessed  change  would  come  When 
the  morning  dawns  and  struggles  with  the  gloom  of 
night,  how  doubtful,  how  gradual  is  the  progress 
of  the  conflict.  Silently,  and  we  know  not  when, 
the  darkness  begins  to  melt  in  the  east,  but  heavy 
clouds  may  still  resist  the  splendour  of  the  sun. 
Gleams  of  the  coming  brightness  shoot  up  the 
heavens,  their  lines  of  glory  quiver  along  the  horizon, 
and  prophesy  the  approaching  day  ;  but  the  mists 
still  hang  gloomily  in  the  skies,  and  threaten  to  bring 
the  hours  of  darkness  back  ;  and  yet  the  ultimate 
victory  of  the  liglit  is  secure.  When  the  winter 
begins  to  feel  the  thrilling  influence  of  spring,  for 
how  long  a  time  is  the  triumph  hindered  and  delayed. 
Bitter  winds  by  day,  and  frosts  by  night,  prolong 
the  desolation,  and  retard  the  life  which  is  struggling 
into  faint  and  tender  beauty.  Even  when  in  more 
soutiiern  lands  the  wild  flowers  have  begun  to  blos- 
som, and  the  trees  are  robed  in  the  sweet  fresh 
beauty  of  their  >oung  foliage,  travel  northwards,  and 


the  ground  is  hard  and  bare,  and  the  forests  are 
standing  in  the  grim  nakedness  of  winter  still.  But 
there  is  no  uncertainty  about  the  issue  ;  the  winds 
become  more  genial,  and  fruitful  rains  begin  to  fall, 
and  the  heat  of  the  sun  becomes  more  intense,  and 
the  silent  presence  of  Spring  steals  upwards  fronc 
the  warmer  south  across  the  fields  of  the  north,  and 
at  last  the  whole  earth  is  bright  with  beautiful  blos- 
soms, as  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  along  the  course  of 
rivers  and  wide-spreading  plains,  and  even  up  the 
gaunt  sides  of  rugged  mountains  there  is  the  luxuri- 
ant and  living  green. 

Yes ;  Christ  is  a  light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles — 
and  the  glory  of  the  upper  heavens  shall  yet  scatter 
and  chase  away  the  darkness  which  still  broods  sul- 
lenly over  the  earth  ;  and  the  new,  Divine  life,  long 
repressed,  shall  yet  reveal  itself  in  fair  and  wonderful 
and  lavish  fertility  ;  the  very  deserts  of  the  world 
shall  be  covered  with  a  moral  wealth  and  beauty  of 
which  the  brightest  spring  time  and  the  richest 
autumn  are  poor  and  pale  symbols,  and  of  which  the 
loveliness  of  Paradise  was  only  a  dim  and  imperfect 
promise.  The  songs  which  filled  the  night  with  joy 
when  Christ  was  born  shall  be  heard  again,  with 
sweeter  music,  deeper  harmonies,  and  more  exulting 
raptures  ;  all  heaven  shall  come  down  to  earth, — 
thrones  and  dominions,  seraphim  and  cherubim,  and 
shining  armies  of  angels, — to  celebrate  with  sound- 
ing trumpets  and  golden  liarpsand  loud  acclamation! 
and  tumultuous  strains  of  triumph,  the  final  victory 
of  Divine  love  over  human  sin,  and  the  restoration 
of  our  race  to  God.  We  are  not  "  mad  "  in  exulting 
in  these  happy  and  confident  expectations.  God's 
mercy  is  mightier  than  all  the  powers  of  the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  We — fanatics,  as  men  may 
deem  us — "  speak  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness." 

—R.  VV.  Dale. 

28.  How  its  triumpli  Is  to  be  secured. 

(i  169.)  Let  me  show  Christianity,  not  in  ideas  but 
in  living  men,  and  in  companies  of  them,  and  it  will 
be  triumphant  wherever  it  is  seen. 

Is  there  anything  that  Protestants  repudiate  so 
much  as  Roman  Catholics?  Is  there  anything  that 
they  have  a  more  salutary  horror  of  than  these  same 
Roman  Catholics  ?  And  yet,  when  the  war  is 
raging,  and  there  is  pestilence  in  the  camp,  and  men 
are  sick  and  dying  in  the  hospitals,  let  those  meek- 
eyed  Sisters  of  Mercy  go  there  and  minister  to  the 
wants  of  Protestant  boys,  being  tender  and  gentle 
with  them,  never  seeking  to  breathe  any  ideas  into 
their  minds  that  their  mothers  would  not,  night  and 
day  walking  in  and  out  full  of  disinterestedness  and 
delicacy,  and  diff'using  about  them  an  influence  of 
cheer  and  hope  ;  and  let  those  noble  boys  go  home  ; 
and  let  any  man  dare  to  speak  a  word  against  these 
kind  creatures,  and  they  will  turn  with  clenched  hand, 
and  say,  "  I  .will  beat  you  to  the  dust  if  you  speak 
against  them,  just  as  quick  as  I  would  if  you  spoke 
against  my  mother  or  my  sister  !  " 

What  has  overcome  their  prejudice  against  .he 
Catholics  ?  Is  it  the  edict  of  the  Pope  ?  Is  it  the 
arguments  of  the  priests  ?  Is  it  the  influence  of  the 
adherents  of  that  Church  ?  Is  it  any  charm  of  its 
service  ?  No,  it  is  the  pure  lives  of  some  of  its 
members.  Those  are  arguments  which  no  man 
wants  to  refute.  If  there  were  more  such  lives  there 
would  be  less  atheism. 

Do  you  suppose  that  m'ln  would  conspire  to  kick 
out  of  the  hf  avens  the  sun,  which  is  the  source  oS 
their  harvests,  and  all  that  is  beautiful,   and  every 


CHURCH.     THE 


(    208    ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


thing  that  makes  life  desirable  ?  Men  want  the  sun. 
And  do  you  suppose  that  if  God  were  pictured  to 
men  as  transcendant  in  beauty,  as  glorious  in  holi- 
I  ness,  and  us  in  sympathy  with  men,  they  would  want 
to  be  atheists?  They  would  call  out  for  Him. 
They  would  watch  for  Him  as  in  the  night  men 
watch  for  the  morning.  But  if  God  is  held  up  as  a 
crystal,  cut  on  the  edges,  I  do  not  wonder  that  men 
are  atheistic,  pantheistic,  and  infidel.  And  if  you 
take  Christianity  according  to  your  sect,  or  church, 
or  cieed,  and  offer  it  to  men,  I  do  not  wonder,  that 
they  feel  that  they  are  fed  with  sand  or  bran.  But 
if  you  bring  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit  to  men  they  will 
not  reject  it ;  they  will  accept  it  with  gladness. 

— Beecher. 


CHURCH.    THE. 

I.    IS  BELOVED  OF  GOV. 

(1 1 70.)  Let  the  head  of  a  family  ascend  a  lofty 
eminence,  and  looking  on  hill  and  dale  and  river, 
and  all  the  beauteous  prospects  which  is  poured  in 
rich  profusion  beneath  his  feet,  suddenly  his  eye  is 
arrested  by  his  own  peaceful  dwelling,  where  he  has 
enjoyed  the  tender  charities  of  love,  where  the 
partner  of  his  bosom  and  little  ones  are  nestled  ;  it 
is  here  his  affections  are  drawn,  here  he  dwells  in 
imagination  with  a  fondness,  an  interest,  which 
creation's  beauties  cannot  excite  in  him.  So  is  it 
with  God  as  it  respects  His  beloved  Zion.  The 
infinite  Jehovah,  who  has  called  forth  at  His  bidding 
creation's  glories — the  great  Father  of  His  family, 
which  He  has  adopted  in  Christ  Jesus,  surveys 
creation — looks  down  upon  the  world,  but  sees  no 
object  round  the  spacious  globe  from  east  to  west, 
from  pole  to  pcle,  so  fair  in  His  divine  esteem  as 
Zion  is  :  "  This  is  My  rest  for  ever,  saith  the  Lord  ; 
heie  will  I  dwell."  The  seat  of  His  desire  and 
palace  of  His  presence  is  the  Church. 

—Salter. 

11.  EMBRACES  ALL  BELIEVERS,  ASD  BE- 
LIEVERS ONLY. 

(1171.)  True  it  is,  this  one  Church  may  have 
many  parts  ;  as  the  ocean  sea  is  but  one,  yet  distin- 
guished according  to  the  regions  upon  which  it  lies. 
And  so  there  is  the  German  Ocean,  the  Spanish 
Ocean,  the  English  Ocean,  the  Irish  Ocean,  and 
tlie  like.  And  thus  there  is  a  church  in  Geneva,  a 
church  in  France,  a  church  in  Scotland,  a  church 
m  England,  and  yet  but  one  militant  Church  upon 
the  earth. 

Reason :  For  as  a  kingdom,  divided  into  many 
shires,  and  more  towns  and  villages,  is  called  one, 
because  it  hath  one  and  the  same  king,  one  and  the 
same  law  ;  so  the  Church  is  one,  because  it  liveth 
by  one  and  the  same  Spirit,  and  is  ruled  by  one  and 
tiie  same  Lord,  and  professeth  one  and  the  same  faith; 
hath  one  and  the  same  hope,  and  hath  been  baptized 
with  one  and  the  same  baptism. 

— Rogers,  1 594-1660, 

(1172.)  A  man's  wife  is  his  wife,  though  she  be 
never  so  perverse  and  disobedient  to  him  :  but  no 
soul  is  one  of  His  Church  and  Spouse,  nor  owned  by 
Christ  as  such,  unless  she  become  subject  to  Him. 
— Goodwin,   1 600- 1 679. 

(1 173.)    There    is   but   one  Universai  Church  of 


Christians  in  the  world,  of  which  Christ  is  the  only 
King  and   Head,   and  every  Christian  is  a  member. 

If  then  thou  hast  faith,  and  love,  and   the 

Spirit,  thou  art  certainly  a  Christian,  and  a  member 
of  Christ,  and  of  this  universal  Church  of  Christians. 

As  thou  art  a  subject  of  the  king,  and  a 

member  of  this  kingdom,  whatever  corporation  thou 
be  a  member  of  (perhaps  sometime  of  one,  and  some- 
time of  another)  ;  so  thou  art  a  subject  of  Christ, 
whatever  particular  church  thou  be  of :  for  it  is  no 
church  if  they  be  not  Christians,  or  subjects  of  Christ. 
For  one  sect  then  to  say.  Ours  is  the  true  Church, 
and  another  to  say,  Nay,  but  ours  is  the  true  Church, 
is  as  mad  as  to  dispute  whether  your  hall,  or  kitchen, 
or  parlour,  or  coal-house  is  your  house  ;  and  for  one 
to  say.  This  is  the  house,  and  another.  Nay,  but  it  is 
that  :  when  a  child  can  tell  them,  that  the  best  is 
but  a  part,  and  the  house  containeth  them  all. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1174.)  My  next  address  is  to  them  that  are  so 
solicitous  to  know  which  is  the  true  Church  among 
all  the  parties  in  the  world  that  pretend  to  it.  Silly 
souls  !  they  are  hearkening  to  that  party,  and  to  that 
party,  and  turn  it  may  be  to  one,  and  to  another,  to  find 
the  true  universal  Church.  I  speak  not  in  contempt, 
but  in  compassion.  You  are  in  the  wood,  and  can- 
not find  it  for  trees  :  but  you  ask.  Which  of  these 
sort  of  trees  is  the  wood  ?  Is  it  the  oak,  or  the  ash, 
or  the  elm,  or  poplar?  or  is  it  the  hawthorn,  or  the 
bramble?  Why,  it  isall  together.  You  are  studying 
which  of  the  members  is  the  man  :  Is  the  hand  the 
man?  or  is  it  the  foot?  or  is  it  the  eye?  or  the 
heait  ?  or  which  is  it  ?  Why,  it  is  the  whole  body 
and  soul,  in  which  all  parts  and  faculties  are  com- 
prised. You  wisely  ask.  Which  part  is  the  whole  ? 
Why,  no  part  is  the  whole.  Which  is  the  Catholic 
Church?  Is  it  the  Protestants,  the  Calvinists,  or  the 
Lutherans,  the  Papists,  the  Greeks,  the  .i^thiopians, 
or  which  is  it  ?  Why,  it  is  never  any  one  of  them,  but 
all  together  that  are  truly  Christians.  Good  Lord  ! 
what  a  pitiful  state  is  the  poor  Church  in,  when  we 
must  look  abroad  and  see  such  abundance  running 
up  and  down  the  world,  and  asking.  Which  is  the 
world  ?  whether  this  country  be  the  world,  or  that 
country  be  the  world  ?  They  are  as  it  were  running 
up  and  down  England  to  look  for  England,  and  ask, 
Whether  this  town  be  England,  or  whether  it  be  the 
other  ?  They  are  as  men  running  up  and  down 
London  to  inquire  for  London,  and  ask,  Whether 
this  house  be  London,  or  that  street  be  London?  or 
some  other?  Thus  they  are  in  the  midst  of  the 
Church  of  Christ  inquiring  after  the  Church,  and 
asking.  Whether  it  be  this  party  of  Christians,  or 
whether  it  be  the  other  ?  Why,  you  doting  wretches, 
it  is  all  Christians  in  the  world  of  what  sort  soever, 
that  are  truly  so,  that  constitute  the  Catholic  Church. 
Indeed  if  your  question  were  only.  Which  is  the 
purest,  or  soundest,  or  safest  part  o(  the  Church,  then 
there  were  some  sense  in  it,  and  I  could  quickly 
give  you  advice  for  your  resolution.  If  you  only 
ask.  Whether  the  parlour  or  the  coal-house  be  the 
better  part  or  room  of  the  house  ?  or  Whether  the 
bramble  or  the  oak  be  the  better  part  of  the  wood  ? 
I  should  soon  give  you  an  answer.  So  if  you  ask, 
Whether  the  Protestants,  or  Papists,  or  Greeks,  be 
the  sounder  part  of  the  Church  ?  I  should  soon 
answer  you.  The  same  family  may  have  in  it  both 
infants  and  men  at  age,  sound  men  and  sick  men ; 
some  that  have  but  small  distemper,  and  some  that 
tiHve  the   plague   or   leprosy  :  and  yel  all  are  men. 


CHURCH.     THE 


(    209    ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


and  members  of  the  family  :  and  so  hath  the  Church 
of  God  such  members. 

— Baxter^   161 5-1 691. 

(1176.';  From  a  small  town  that  lay  in  the  bosom 
of  gently  swelling  hills  rose,  some  with  spires  and 
some  without  them,  three  or  four  churches  belong- 
ing to  the  chief  denominations  of  our  country — the 
sign  at  once  of  our  religious  liberties  and  religious 
earnestness.  On  a  sweet  summer  evening  a  travel- 
ler looked  along  the  valley  on  this  peaceful  scene, 
when  a  shower  of  rain  was  falling.  Suddenly  the 
sun  broke  out,  and  flung  a  bright  bow  on  the  cloud 
that,  like  that  of  mercy,  discharged  its  showers  on 
all.  The  rainbow  encircled  within  its  arms  suburb 
and  city,  lofty  church  and  humble  meeting  house. 
And  was  it  not  a  true  and  happy  fancy  that  saw  in 
this  heavenly  bow  an  emblem  of  that  covenant 
which,  irrespective  of  minor  differences,  embraces 
■11  believers  within  the  same  arms  of  mercy  ? 

— Guthrie. 

(1177.)  The  Church  is  a  garden  laid  out  in  many 
beds  which  vary  in  shape  with  the  nature  of  the 
ground.  Some  of  the  under-gardeners  regret  there 
is  not  one  large  bed  within  one  and  the  same  border. 
Others  would  have  all  the  beds  of  the  same  form, 
some  advocating  the  square  shape,  others  the  cir- 
cular, others  the  oval.  A  few  of  the  gardeners,  how- 
ever, regarded  by  some  of  their  fellow-labourers 
as  lax  and  dangerous  in  their  opinions,  think  that 
the  existing  arrangement  may  be  best  after  all,  the 
variety  favouring  both  beauty  and  productiveness. 
Some,  not  satisfied  that  the  shape  of  the  bed  they 
are  appointed  to  cultivate  distinguishes  it  from  others, 
fence  it  with  a  thick  and  lofty  hedge,  within  which 
they  carefully  shut  themselves  up,  and  by  which  the 
rest  of  the  garden  is  so  concealed  from  them  that 
they  begin  to  fancy  their  little  section  is  the  whole 
of  it.  But  when  God's  bright  sun  arises  it  shine=  on 
all  the  garden,  heeding  not  the  fences,  which  only 
serve  to  cast  a  dark  shadow  on  the  beds  they  shut 
off  from  the  rest  ;  and  the  impartial  showers  fall, 
and  the  refreshing  dews  distil,  on  all  alike.  And  the 
same  flowers  bloom  in  all ;  and  from  mignonette  and 
rose  the  bees  gather  the  same  honey,  heedless  of  the 
fences.  Those  gardeners  who,  while  retaining  the 
shape  of  their  several  borders,  content  themselves 
with  hedges  the  lowest  and  the  thinnest,  are  best 
able  to  look  beyond  their  own  enclosure,  and  to  de- 
rive pleasure  from  viewing  the  fruits  and  flowers 
that  flourish  elsewhere.  — A'ewman  Hall. 


III.  ALL  ITS  MEMBERS  ARE  IMPERFECT. 
(1178.)  The  Church  of  Christ  is  a  common  hos- 
pital, wherein  all  are  in  some  measure  sick  of  some 
rpi ritual  disease  or  other,  that  we  should  all  have 
ground  of  exercising  mutually  the  spirit  of  wisdom 
and  meekness.  — Sibbes,   1577-1635. 


IV.  THOUGH  IT  CONTAINS  MANV  UN- 
HOLY PERSONS,  YET  EVEN  THE  VISIBLE 
CHURCH  IS  HOL  Y. 

(1179.)  To  the  saints  of  God  (Eph.  i.  l). 
Though  we  have  sins  too  many,  yet  the  better  part 
gives  the  name.  Corn-tields  we  see  have  many 
weeds,  yet  we  call  them  corn-fields,  not  fields  of 
weeds ;  so  here. 


(1180.)  As  a  heap  of  wheat,  though  it  have  chafl 
in  it,  is  \  et  ca'led  wheat ;  or  as  a  tun  of  wi  le,  though 
it  have  lees  in  it,  is  yet  called  wine ;  or  as  a  field 
wherein  tares  aopear  with  the  wheat  is  calleJ  a  corn- 
field :  even  so  the  visi  le  Church  is  the  Chur  h. 
Though  it  consisteth  of  good  and  bad,  and  be  nixed 
of  the  elect  and  reprobate,  yet  are  they  called  God's 
Church  for  the  elect's  sake,  and  have  their  denomi- 
nation from  the  better,  not  the  biggei  part. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

(I181.)  This  profession  may  be  much  in  the  dark, 
and  not  be  so  visible  as  before  ;  as  a  field  of  corn 
overtopped  by  weeds  looks  at  a  distance  as  if  it 
were  nothing  else  but  the  blue  and  red  cockle  and 
darnel,  but  when  we  come  near  we  see  that  the  good 
grain  shows  its  head  as  well  as  the  weeds.  So 
among  a  professing  people  there  will  be  some  some- 
where or  other.  — Charnock,   1628-1680. 

(i  182.)  The  visible  Church  is  much  larger  than  the 
mystical,  though  but  one  Church  ;  that  is,  the  Church 
hath  more  professing  than  regenerate  members,  and 
will  have  to  the  end  of  the  world,  and  none  must 
expect  that  they  be  commensurate. 

As  a  corn-field,  —  i.  corn,  2.  straw  and  chaff,  and 
3.  weeds  and  stricken  ears, — is  denominated  from 
the  corn,  wiiich  is  the  chief  (preserved)  part ;  but 
the  straw  must  not  be  cast  out  because  it  is  necessary 
for  the  corn  ;  but  the  weeds  must  be  pulled  up, 
except  when  doing  it  may  hurt  the  wheat :  even  so 
the  Church  hath,  I.  sincere  Christians  from  whom 
it  is  denominated  ;  2.  Close  hypocrites,  whose  gifts 
are  for  the  good  of  the  sincere,  and  must  not  be 
cast  out  by  the  pastors ;  3.  Heretics  and  notorious 
wicked  men,  who  are  impenitent  after  due  admoni- 
tion ;  and  these  must  be  cast  out,  except  when  it 
may  hazard  the  Church. 

— Baxter,   1615-1691. 

(1183.)  In  every  corn-field  there  are  plants  of 
sickly  as  well  as  of  luxuriant  appearance,  supplying 
a  fit  emblem  of  the  various  characters  which  compose 
the  true  Church  of  Christ.  Some  indeed  are  stunted 
in  their  growth  by  various  causes ;  others  ripening 
into  the  lull  measure  of  the  stature  of  Christ,  having 
received  a  larger  measure  of  the  spirit  of  all  grace, 
and  enjoyed  a  more  copious  effusion  of  the  beams  of 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  Yet  these  must  be  per- 
mitted to  mingle  together  till  the  harvest.  Each 
have  t'neir  separate  uses  ;  and  as  the  wise  husband- 
man is  content  and  thankful  if  the  weeds  do  not 
overpower  the  corn,  so  the  wise  Christian  will  be 
grateful  to  God  that  errors  both  in  doctrine  and 
practice  are  not  more  abounding  than  they  are,  being 
satisfied  that  in  the  final  issue  and  separation  of  the 
tares  from  the  corn,  there  will  be  nothing  to  com- 
plain of;  but  on  the  contrary,  that  the  purposes 
of  God  will  work  their  way  through  all  human  hypo- 
crisy and  weakness,  so  as  to  fulfil  the  truth  of  the 
gracious  promise  (Matt.  iii.  I2)« 

V.    HER  MISSION. 

(1184.)  The  true  and  grand  idea  of  a  church  is  a 
society  for  the  purpose  of  making  men  like  Christ, 
— earth  like  heaven, — the  kingdoms  of  the  world  the 
Kingdom  of  Christ.  — Arnold,   1795-1842 


(1185.)  There  is  a  new-fangled  modern  doctrine 
— Bayne,  1617.      V  that  the  Church  is  bound  to  take  care  of  its  own 
*  O 


CHURCH.     THE 


(  210  ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


subjects,  and  not  go  out  of  itself  to  meddle  with 
other  subjects.  That  is,  in  my  judgment,  as  if  the 
sun  should  take  counsel  with  itself,  and  say,  "  Here 
am  I,  a  splendid  old  sun,  and  I  have  got  to  take 
care  of  my  light  :  everything  depends  on  me,  and 
it  will  not  do  for  me,  to  compromise  myself,  and  go 
into  that  deep  valley,  into  that  dark  cave,  or  into  that 
obscure  thicket.  My  business  is  to  keep  bright,  and 
take  care  of  myself."  What  kind  of  a  sun  would 
it  be  that  should  talk  thus  ?  But  you  will  find 
ministers  and  churches  talking  in  the  same  way. 
They  say,  "  It  is  the  business  of  the  Church  to  take 
care  of  religion."  Did  Christ  die  for  religion,  or 
did  He  die  for  man  ?  I  had  always  supposed  that 
the  business  of  the  Church  was  to  take  care  of  men. 
Suppose  a  mother  should  say,  "  My  business  is  to 
take  care  of  maternal  and  filial  love,  and  not  of  my 
children  !"  She  would  exhibit  the  same  wisdom 
that  you  see  in  churches  and  ministers  when  they 
declare  that  it  is  their  business  to  take  care  of 
religion.  Why,  it  is  the  most  hideous  form  of  sel 
fishness  out  of  hell — this  attempt  of  a  great  moral 
institution,  that  is  set  to  be  the  light  of  the  world, 
and  the  teacher  of  men  in  every  visible  relation  in 
life,  and  that  is  ordained  to  lay  the  law  of  God  on 
thought  and  feeling  and  conduct,  to  draw  back  from 
its  great  work,  and  say,  "It  is  not  our  business 
to  take  care  of  those  things."  It  is  fundamental 
apostasy.  It  is  egregious  recreancy.  And  that  dark- 
lantern  Church  that  shines  on  nothing  outside,  and 
only  on  that  which  is  inside  of  itself,  does  not  belong 
to  Christ.     Who  owns  it  ?   I  do  not  pretend  to  say  ! 

— Beecher. 

(1 186.)  A  church  is  corrupted  when  it  wants 
Christianity  for  its  own  peace,  and  not  for  the 
amelioration  of  persons  that  are  not  members  of  it. 
When  a  lighthouse-keeper,  on  a  stormy,  dark, 
tempestuous  night,  is  told  to  go  into  his  attic  and 
take  care  of  the  lantern,  why  does  he  receive  such 
instruction  ?  Because  the  ocean-burdened  ship  afar 
off,  and  a  long  way  from  home,  is  coming  upon  the 
coast.  He  is  to  do  it,  because  wind-driven  crait 
are  creeping  toward  the  land,  and  need  the  guidance 
of  the  light.  It  is  for  the  sake  of  the  imperilled 
mariner  that  he  is  sent  to  take  care  of  the  lantern. 
But  suppose  he  should  say,  "  I  am  instructed  to 
take  care  of  this  light  ; "  and  should  put  up  the 
shutters,  saying,  *'  The  wind  is  not  going  to  blow 
this  light  out  ;"  and  should  hang  curtains  over  all 
the  cracks,  saying,  "  I  will  keep  out  every  breath  of 
air."  The  light  is  safe,  and  it  illumines  the  little 
room  in  which  it  burns  ;  but  on  the  sea  it  is  dark. 
He  might  just  as  well  let  the  light  go  out  ;  for  the 
only  object  in  keeping  it  is  that  those  on  the  deep 
who  are  approaching  the  shore  may  be  directed  by  it. 
Now  churches  are  God's  lighthouses,  and  He  says 
to  them,  "Shine  out  for  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  the 
wretched,  the  neglected."  "  Let  your  light  so  shine 
before  men,  that  they  may  see  your  good  works,  and 
glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

— Beecher. 


VI.    THE  CHURCH  IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES. 

( 1 1 87. )  The  Church  has  many  times  been  compared 
by  divines  to  the  ark  of  which  we  read  in  the  Book 
of  Genesis  ;  but  never  was  the  resemblance  more 
perfect  than  during  that  evil  time  when  she  rode 
alone,  amidst  darkness  and  tempest,  on  the  deluge 
beneath  whic'i  all  th«  great  works  of  ancient  power 


and  wisdom  lay  entombed,  bearmg  within  her  that 
feeble  germ  from  which  a  second  and  more  glorious 
civilisation  was  to  spring. 

— Macaulay,    1 800- 1 859. 

VII.  THE  CHURCH  AND   THE  BIBLE. 

(1188.)  God  speaks  in  the  Scriptures,  and  by 
it  teaches  the  Church  herself;  and  therefore  His 
authority  in  the  Scriptures  is  greater,  the  authority  of 
Him  that  teaches,  than  of  those  by  \shom  He  teaches: 
as  the  authority  of  a  king  in  his  laws  is  greater  than 
that  of  an  officer  that  proclaims  them.  A  king  may 
by  his  council  or  judges  acquaint  his  subjects  with 
his  laws  ;  but  will  it  therefore  follow,  because  he 
speaks  his  mind  which  is  in  those  laws  by  such 
officers,  that  their  authority  is  greater  than  that  of 
those  laws  themselves  ?  God  speaks  by  the  Church 
(the  true  Church  we  mean)  ;  but  He  speaks  nothing 
by  her  but  what  He  speaks  in  the  Scriptures,  which 
she  does  only  ministerially  declare  to  us  :  and  there- 
fore the  authority  of  God  and  His  law  is  above  hers, 
who,  thou  jh  she  publish,  yet  did  not  make  it,  but  is 
herself  subject  to  it,  and  by  that  law  only  stands 
obliged  tc  publish  it  to  others.  [See  thk  biule. 
S33-534-]  —Owen,   1616-1683. 

VIII.  HER  AUTHORITY  TO  ORDAIN  CERE- 
MONIES. 

(1189.)  It  is  no  more  disgrace  to  Scripture  lo 
have  left  things  free  to  be  ordered  by  the  Church, 
than  for  nature  to  have  left  it  to  the  wit  of  man  to 
devise  his  own  attire.  — Hooker^   1 586-1647 

IX.  HER   UNITY. 

1.  lu  what  It  consists. 

(1 190.)  This  unity,  whereof  the  apostle  speaks, 
consists  in  submission  to  one  single  influence  or 
spirit.  Wherein  consists  the  unity  of  the  body  ? 
Consists  it  not  in  this,  that  there  is  one  life  uniting, 
making  all  the  separate  members  one  ?  Take  away 
the  life,  and  the  members  fall  to  pieces ;  they  are 
no  longer  one  ;  decomposition  begins,  and  every 
element  separates,  no  longer  having  any  principle 
of  cohesion  or  union  with  the  rest. 

There  is  not  one  of  us  who,  at  some  time  or  other, 
has  not  been  struck  with  the  power  there  is  in  a 
single  living  influence.  Have  we  never,  for  instance, 
felt  the  power  wherewith  the  orator  unites  and  holds 
together  a  thousand  men  as  if  they  were  but  one  ; 
with  flashing  eyes  and  throbbing  hearts  all  attentive 
to  his  words,  and  by  the  difference  of  their  attitudes, 
by  the  variety  of  expressions  of  their  countenances, 
testifying  to  the  unity  of  that  single  living  feeling 
with  which  he  had  inspired  them  ?  Whether  it  be 
indignation,  whether  it  be  compassion,  or  whether 
it  be  enthusiasm,  that  one  living  influence  made  the 
thousand  for  the  time  one.  Have  we  not  heard 
how,  even  in  this  century  in  which  we  live,  the 
various  and  conflicting  feelings  of  the  people  of  this 
country  were  concentrated  into  one,  when  the  threat 
of  foreign  invasion  had  fused  down  and  broken  the 
edges  of  conflict  and  variance,  and  from  shore  to 
shore  was  heard  one  cry  of  terrible  defiance,  and 
the  different  classes  and  orders  of  this  manifold  and 
mighty  England  were  as  one  ?  Have  we  not  heard 
how  the  mighty  winds  hold  together  as  if  one  the 
various  atoms  of  the  desert,  so  that  they  rush  like 
SI  livinjr  thing  across  the  wilderness?      And  this, 


CHURCH.     THE 


(  211   ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


brethren,  is  the  unity  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  the 
subjection  to  the  one  uniting  spirit  of  its  God. 

—F.  IV.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(1191.)  Unity,  is  that  it  subsists  between  things 
not  similar  and  alike,  but  things  dissimilar  or  un- 
like. There  is  no  unity  in  the  separate  atoms  of  a 
sand-pit  ;  they  are  things  similar  ;  there  is  an  aggre- 
gate or  collection  of  tliem.  Even  if  they  be  hardened 
in  a  mass  they  are  not  one,  they  do  not  form  a  unity  ; 
they  are  simply  a  mass.  There  is  no  unity  in  a 
flock  of  sheep  ;  it  is  simply  a  repetition  of  a  number 
jf  things  similar  to  each  other.  If  you  strike  off 
from  a  thousand  five  hundied,  or  if  you  strike  off 
nine  hundred,  there  is  nothing  lost  of  unity,  because 
there  never  was  unity.  A  flock  of  one  thousand  or 
a  flock  of  five  is  just  as  much  a  flock  as  any  other 
number. 

On  the  other  hand,  let  us  turn  to  the  unity  of 
peace  which  the  apostle  speaks  of,  and  we  find  it  is 
something  different  ;  it  is  made  up  of  dissimilar 
members,  without  which  dissimilarity  there  could 
be  no  unity.  Each  is  imperfect  in  itself,  each  sup- 
plying what  it  has  in  itself  to  the  deficiencies  and 
wants  of  the  other  members.  So,  if  you  strike  off 
from  this  body  any  one  member,  if  you  cut  off"  an 
arm,  or  tear  out  an  eye,  instantly  the  unity  is  de- 
stroyed ;  you  have  no  longer  an  entire  and  perfect 
body,  there  is  nothing  but  a  remnant  of  the  whole, 
a  part,  a  portion  ;  no  unity  whatever. 

This  will  help  us  to  understand  the  unity  of  the 
Church  of  Christ.  If  the  ages  and  the  centuries 
of  the  Church  of  Christ,  if  the  different  churches 
whereof  it  was  composed,  if  the  different  members 
of  each  church  were  similar,  one  in  this,  that  they 
all  lield  the  same  views,  all  si)oke  the  same  words, 
all  viewed  truth  from  the  same  side,  they  would  have 
no  unity  ;  but  would  simply  be  an  aggregate  of 
atoms,  the  sand-pit  over  again. 

—F.  IV.  Koberlson,  1816-1853. 

(1192.)  The  unity  the  Scriptures  speak  of  does 
not  mean  agreement  in  doctrine,  nor  yet  concord  and 
mutual  good  will  ;  though  these  are  strongly  insisted 
on  by  the  apostles.  Nor,  again,  does  it  mean  that 
all  Christians  belong,  or  ought  to  belong,  to  some 
one  society  on  earth.  This  is  what  the  apostles  never 
aimed  at,  and  what  never  was  actually  the  state  of 
things,  from  the  time  that  the  Christian  religion 
extended  beyond  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  The  Church 
is  undoubtedly  ^;/c,  and  so  is  the  human  va.cs  one ; 
but  not  as  a  society  or  community,  for,  as  such,  it 
is  only  one  when  considered  as  to  its  future  existence. 
The  teaching  of  Scripture  clearly  is,  that  believers 
on  earth  are  part  of  a  great  society  (church  or  con- 
gregation), of  which  the  Head  is  in  heaven,  and  of 
which  many  of  the  members  only  "  live  unto  God," 
or  exist  in  His  counsels, — some  having  long  since 
departed,  and  some  being  not  yet  born.  The 
univers.^1  Church  of  Christ  may  therefore  be  said  to 
be  ONE  in  reference  to  Him,  its  supreme  Head  in 
heaven  ;  but  it  is  not  one  community  on  earth.  And 
even  so  the  human  race  is  one  in  respect  of  the  One 
Creator  and  Governor ;  but  this  does  not  make  it 
one  family  or  one  state.  And  though  all  men  are 
bound  lo  live  in  peace,  and  to  be  kindly  disposed 
towards  every  fellow  creature,  and  all  bound  to  a°ree 
in  thinking  and  doing  whatever  is  right,  yet  they 
are  not  at  all  bound  to  live  under  one  ;''t!^^Ie govern- 
ment, extending  over  the  whole  world.  Nor,  again, 
are  all   nations  boun  I  to  have  the  same  form  of 


government,  regal  or  republican,  &c.  That  is  a 
matter  left  to  their  discretion.  But  all  are  bound 
to  do  their  best  to  promote  the  great  objects  for  which 
all  government  is  instituted, — good  order,  justice, 
and  public  prosperity. 

And  even  so  the  apostles  founded  Christian 
churches,  all  based  on  the  same  principles,  all  shar- 
ing common  privileges— "  One  Lord,  one  faith,  one 
baptism," — and  all  having  the  same  object  in  view, 
but  all  quite  independent  of  each  other.  And 
while,  by  the  inspiration  of  Him  who  knew  what 
was  in  man,  they  delineated  those  Christian  principles 
which  man  could  not  have  devised  for  himself,  each 
church  has  been  left,  by  the  same  Divine  foresight, 
to  make  the  application  of  those  principles  in  its 
symbols,  its  forms  of  worship,  and  its  ecclesiasti- 
cal regulations ;  and  while  steering  its  course  by 
the  chart  and  compass  which  His  holy  Word 
supplies,  to  regulate  for  itself  the  sails  and  rudder 
according  to  the  winds  and  currents  it  may  meet 
with. 

Now,  I  have  little  doubt  that  the  sort  of  variation 
resulting  from  this  independence  and  freedom,  so 
far  from  breaking  the  bond,  is  the  best  preservative 
of  it.  A  number  of  neighbouring  families,  living  in 
perfect  unity,  will  be  thrown  into  discord  as  soon  as 
you  compel  them  to  form  one  family,  and  to  observe 
in  things  intrinsically  indifferent  the  same  rules. 
One,  for  instance,  likes  early  hours,  and  another 
late  ;  one  likes  the  windows  open,  and  another  shut ; 
and  thus,  by  being  brought  too  close  together,  they 
are  driven  into  ill-will  by  one  being  perpetually 
forced  to  give  way  to  another.  Of  this  character 
were  those  disputations  which  arose  (though  they 
subsequently  assumetl  a  different  character)  about 
Church  music,  the  posture  of  the  communicants,  the 
colours  of  a  minister's  dress,  the  time  of  keeping 
Easter,  &c.  — Wkately. 

(i  193.)  If  unity  has  been  lost,  truth  has  been  pre- 
served to  us.  And  this  is  our  consolation.  If  the 
Church  be  not  the  great  ocean,  vast,  bright,  fresh, 
a  counterpart  of  the  blue  heaven  above  it,  still  she 
is  like  the  hundred  lakes  that  nestle  among  the 
sheltering  hills ;  they  know  not  each  other,  but 
every  one  of  them  reflects,  and  truly,  the  firmament 
above.  So  far  as  salvation  by  Christ  is  brought 
home  to  men  by  the  teaching  of  the  churches,  so 
long  there  is  an  underlying  bond  of  agreement  which 
outward  misunderstanding  cannot  conceal.  We  are 
one  in  the  one  witness  tliat  we  bear  to  Jesus,  in  the 
one  hope  that  we  awaken  through  His  gospel,  in  the 
one  common  direction  towards  which  our  faces  turn, 
waiting  till  the  dark  sky  shall  kindle  with  the  Orient 
flush  of  His  glorious  reappearing. 

— Archbishop  Thomson. 

2.  Uniformity  ia  not  essential  to  tmlty. 

(1194.)  Men  have  formed  to  themselves  two  ideas' 
of  unity  :  the  first  is  a  sameness  of  form — of  expres- 
sion— the  second  an  identity  of  spirit.  Some  of  the 
best  of  mankind  have  fondly  hoped  to  realise  a  unity 
for  the  Church  of  Christ  which  should  be  manifested 
by  uniform  expressions  in  everything.  Their  imagina- 
tions have  loved  to  paint,  as  the  ideal  of  a  Christian 
Church,  a  state  in  which  the  same  liturgy  should  be 
used  throughout  the  world,  the  same  ecclesiastical 
government,  even  the  same  vestment,  the  same 
canonical  hours,  the  same  form  of  architecture. 
They  could  conceive  notlung  more  entirely  one  than 


CHURCH.     THE 


(  212   ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


e  Church  so  constituted  that  the  same  prayers,  in  the 
very  same  expressions,  at  the  very  same  moment, 
should  be  ascending  to  the  Eternal  Ear. 

There  are  others  who  have  thrown  aside  entirely 
this  idea  as  chimerical  ;  who  have  not  only  ceased 
to  hope  it,  but  even  to  wish  it,  who  if  ii  could  be 
realised  would  consider  it  a  matter  of  regret  ;  who 
feel  that  the  minds  of  men  are  various,  tlieir  modes 
and  habits  of  thought,  tlieir  original  capacities  and 
acquired  associations,  infinitely  diverse  ;  and  who, 
perceiving  that  the  law  of  the  universal  system  is 
manifoldness  in  unity,  have  ceased  to  expect  any 
other  oneness  for  the  Church  of  Christ  than  that 
of  a  sameness  of  spirit  showing  itself  through 
diversities  of  gifts.  Among  these  last  was  the  Apostle 
Paul ;  his  large  and  glorious  mind  rejoiced  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  countless  manifestations  of 
spiritual  nature  beneath  which  he  detected  one  and 
the  same  pervading  mind.  Now  let  us  look  at  this 
matter  soniewha.t  more  closely. 

1.  All  real  unity  is  manifold.  Feelings  in  them- 
selves identical  find  countkss  forms  of  expression  ; 
for  instance,  sorrow  is  the  same  feeling  throughout 
the  human  race  ;  but  the  Oriental  prostrates  himself 
npon  the  ground,  throws  dust  upon  his  head,  tears 
his  garments,  is  not  ashamed  to  break  out  into  the 
most  violent  lamentations.  In  the  north  we  rule 
our  grief ;  suffer  not  even  a  quiver  to  be  seen  upon 
the  lip  or  brow,  and  consider  calmness  as  the  appro- 
priate expression  of  manly  grief.  Nay,  two  sisters  of 
different  temperament  will  show  their  grief  diversely  ; 
one  will  love  to  dwell  upon  the  theme  of  the  qualities 
of  the  departed  ;  the  other  feels  it  a  sacred  sorrow,  on 
which  the  li[is  are  sealed  for  ever.  Yet  woul-l  it 
not  be  idle  to  ask  which  of  them  has  the  truest 
affection  ?  Are  they  not  both  in  their  own  way 
true?  In  the  East,  men  take  off  their  sandals  in 
devotion  ;  we  exactly  reverse  the  procedure,  and 
uncover  the  head.  The  Oriental  prostrates  himself 
in  the  dust  before  his- sovereign  ;  even  before  his 
God  the  Briton  only  kneels  :  yet  would  it  not  again 
be  idle  to  ask  which  is  the  essential  and  proper  form 
of  reverence  ?  Is  not  true  reverence  in  all  cases 
modified  by  the  individualities  of  temp'-rament 
and  education  ?  Should  we  not  say,  in  all  these 
forms  worketh  one  and  the  same  spirit  of  rever- 
tnce  ? 

2.  AH  living  unity  is  spiritual,  not  formal  ;  not 
sameness,  but  manifoldness.  You  may  have  a  unity 
shown  in  identity  of  form  ;  but  it  is  a  lifeless  unity. 
There  is  a  sameness  on  the  sea-beach — that  unity 
which  the  ocean  waves  have  produced  by  curling 
and  forcibly  destroying  the  angularities  of  individual 
form,  so  that  every  stone  presents  the  same  monotony 
of  aspect,  and  you  must  fracture  each  again  in 
order  to  distinguish  whether  you  hold  in  your  hand 
\  mass  of  flint  or  a  fragment  of  basalt.  There  is  no 
life  in  unity  such  as  this. 

But  as  soon  as  you  arrive  at  a  unity  that  is  living, 
the  form  becomes  more  complex,  and  you  search  in 
vain  for  uniformity.  In  the  parts  it  must  be  found, 
if  found  at  all,  in  the  sameness  of  pervading  life. 
The  illustration  given  by  the  apostle  is  that  of  the 
human  body — a  higher  unity,  he  says,  by  being 
composed  of  many  members,  than  if  every  member 
were  but  a  repetition  of  a  single  type. 

— /.   \V,  Kobei-lson,    1816-1853. 

(1195.)  Out  of  eight  hundred  millions  of  the 
numan  r.Tce  a  few  features  diversify  themselves  into 
so    many  lorms    of  countenance    that  scarcely  two 


could  be  mistaken  for  each  othe.*.  There  are  no 
two  leaves  on  the  same  tree  alike  ;  nor  two  sides  of 
the  same  leaf;  unless  you  cut  and  kill  it.  There  is 
a  sacredness  in  individuality  of  character  ;  each  one 
born  into  this  world  is  a  fresh  new  soul  intended  by 
his  Maker  to  develop  himself  in  a  new  fresh  way  ; 
we  are  what  we  are,  we  cannot  be  truly  other  than 
ourselves.  We  reach  perfection  not  by  copying, 
much  less  by  aiming  at  originality  ;  but  by  con- 
sistently and  steadily  working  out  the  life  which  is 
common  to  us  all,  according  to  the  character  which 
God  has  given  us. 

And  thus  will  the  Church  of  God  be  one  at  last — 
will  present  a  unity  like  that  of  heaven.  There  is 
one  universe  in  which  each  separate  star  differs  from 
another  in  glory  :  one  Church  in  which  a  single 
spirit,  the  life  of  God,  pervades  each  separate  soul  ; 
and  just  in  proportion  as  that  life  becomes  exalted 
does  it  enable  every  one  to  shine  forth  in  the  dis- 
tinctness of  his  own  separate  individuality,  like  the 
stars  of  heaven. 

—F.  IV.  Robertson,   1 816-1853. 

(1196.)  As  uniformity  is  not  unity,  so,  in  the  evil 
sense  of  the  term,  variety  is  not  variance  ;  and  there 
may  be  in  the  Church  of  God,  as  in  His  works,  variety 
the  most  diversified,  combined  with  unity  the  most 
Divine.  There  is  one  glory  of  the  sun,  and  another 
glory  of  the  moon,  and  another  glory  of  the  stars ; 
and  one  star  diftereth  from  another  star  in  glory. 
The  stars  differ  in  size ;  they  differ  in  colour  ; 
they  differ  in  their  distance  from  the  source  of  light. 
One  has  belts,  another  satellites  ;  some  move  in 
eccentric,  and  others  in  regular  orbits  ;  but  by  virtue 
of  their  fellowship  with  one  central  sun,  they  have 
fellowship  one  with  another  ;  and  as  all  stars  re- 
volving round  the  sun  belong  to  one  solar  system, 
all  the  minds  deriving  life,  light,  and  impulse  from 
Christ,  however  varied  in  other  respects,  belong  to 
one  Church.  This  is  the  dictum  of  no  mere  human 
authority,  the  speculation  of  no  vain  theorist.  An 
apostle  himself  has  announced  it  ;  for,  writing,  not 
to  the  men  of  his  own  generation  alone,  but  to  all 
for  whom  the  Bible  is  intended — that  is,  to  all  the 
human  race — he  teaches,  in  terms  the  most  unequi- 
vocal, that  if  we  have  fellowship  with  that  Saviour 
whom  the  apostles  declare,  we  have  fellowship  with 
the  apostles  themselves.-  — Stanford. 

3.  Its  advantages. 

{1197.)  Great  is  the  force  of  unity,  peace,  and 
concord.  One  man  serves  to  strengthen  and  stablish 
another,  'ike  many  staves  bound  together  in  one. 
Many  sticks  or  staves  bound  together  in  one  bundle 
are  not  easily  broken  ;  but  sever  them  and  pull  them 
asunder,  they  are  soon  broken  with  little  strength. 
Thus  the  case  in  all  societies,  whether  it  be  in  the 
Church,  or  commonwealth,  or  in  the  private  family. 

— AUersolf  16 18. 

(1198.)  Union  is  power.  The  most  attenuated 
thread  when  sufficiently  multiplied  will  form  the 
strongest  cable.  A  single  drop  of  water  is  a  weak 
and  powerless  thing  ;  but  an  infinite  number  of  drops 
united  by  the  force  of  attraction  will  form  a  stream  ; 
and  many  streams  combined  will  form  a  river  ;  till 
rivers  pour  their  waters  into  the  mighty  ocean,  whose 
proud  waves  defying  the  power  of  man  none  can  slay 
but  He  who  formed  them.  And  thus  forces  which 
acting  singly  are  utterly  impotent,  are  when  acting 


CHURCH.     THE 


(     213    ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


in  combination  resistless  in  their  energies,  mighty  in 
power.  And  when  this  great  union  of  the  several 
powers  of  the  Church  shall  be  brought  to  bear 
unitedly  on  one  point,  its  triumph  will  be  the  sub- 
jection of  a  world  to  Christ  which  now  defies  the 
solitary  efforts  of  single  forces.  — Salter. 

4.  How^  It  is  to  be  attained. 

(1199.)  An  apparent  union  may  be  produced  by 
none  thinking  at  all,  as  vvell  as  by  all  thinking  alike  ; 
but  such  a  union,  as  l.eighton  observes,  is  not  pro- 
duced by  the  active  heat  of  the  spirit,  but  is  a  con- 
fusion rather  arising  from  the  want  of  it ;  not  a  fusing 
together,  but  a  freezing  together,  as  cold  congregates 
all  bodies  how  heterogeneous  soever,  sticks,  stones, 
and  water  :  but  heat  makes  first  a  separation  of  dif- 
ferent things,  and  then  unites  those  that  are  of  the 
same  nature.  — Salter. 

(1200.)  For  the  sake  of  unity,  it  is  not  needful  to 
5  irrender  an  iota  of  the  truth,  or  yield  one  con- 
scientious conviction,  so  lung  as  it  remains  con- 
scientious. It  is  very  common  with  those  who 
misunderstand  the  matter,  to  say,  "Come,  now,  you 
and  1  do  not  think  exactly  alike  ;  perhaps  we  are 
both  right,  and  it  is  as  likely  we  are  both  wrong. 
But  it  is  a  point  of  no  moment  ;  what  would  you  say 
to  throw  it  overboard  altogether,  and  give  ourselves 
no  more  concern  about  it  ?  "  To  which,  in  many 
cases,  it  might  be  a  very  just  answer — "You  may 
intend  this  for  liberality,  but  to  me  it  sounds  like 
laiitudinarianism.  I  believe  that  I  found  this  truth 
in  the  Bible  ;  and  if  so,  it  is  one  of  the  truths  of  God. 
I  dare  not  cast  it  overboard  ;  and  I  shall  be  very 
sorry  if  having  it  on  board  deprives  me  of  your  com- 
pany, if  it  be  so  offensive  to  you  that  you  must 
needs  sail  in  a  separate  ship,  I  hope  we  shall  not 
hoist  hostile  flags.  But  as  neither  of  us  holds  it  vital, 
might  we  not  agree  to  dil'fer  regarding  it  ;  and  as  we 
grow  in  knowledge  and  in  grace,  may  we  not  hope 
that  the  Lord  will  reveal  even  this  unto  us?" 
Wherever  souls  are  joined  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  and 
His  image  is  visible  upon  them,  there  is  actual  unity 
of  the  most  important  kind.  Were  this  actual  unity 
more  frequently  made  the  foundation  of  a  practical 
unity,  there  would  soon  be  more  doctrinal  unity 
among  Christians.  But  it  is  an  unhallowed  mode  of 
procuring  practical  unity  to  purchase  it  at  the  price 
of  truth.  As  a  compromise  of  error  cannot  lead  to 
unity,  so  "truth  in  love "  will  breed  no  schism. 
Christian  unity  is  the  union  of  believers— union  in 
the  truth — union  in  the  Lord.  Like  every  good  and 
perfect  gift,  it  cometh  down  from  the  Father  of 
Lights.  It  is  given  where  the  Holy  Ghost  is  given. 
Where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  tliere  is  love  as  well 
a.s  liberty.  — JJatuilton,  1814-1867, 

(1201.)  Heaven  is  the  abode  of  unity,  and  when 
the  spirit  of  unity  comes  into  a  soul  or  into  a  Church 
it  cometh  from  above.  The  Comforter  brings  it 
down.  IJiscord  is  of  the  earth  or  from  beneath. 
The  divisions  of  Christians  show  that  there  is  still 
much  carnality  amongst  them.  The  more  carnal  a 
Christian  is  the  more  sectarian  will  he  be,  and  the 
more  spiritual  he  is  the  more  loving  and  forbearing 
and  seli-renouncing  are  you  sure  to  find  him.  And 
it  is  with  Christian  communities  as  with  individual 
Christians.  When  the  tide  is  out,  you  may  have 
noticed  as  you  rambled  among  the  rocks  little  pools 
with  little  fishes  in  them.  To  the  shrimp  in  such  a 
pool  his  foot  depth  of  salt  water  is  all  the  ocean  for 


the  time  being.  He  has  no  dealings  with  his  neigh- 
bour shrimp  in  the  adjacent  pool,  though  it  may  be 
only  a  few  inches  of  sand  that  divide  them.  But 
when  the  rising  ocean  begins  to  lip  over  the  margin 
of  his  lurking  place,  one  pool  joins  another,  their 
various  tenants  meet,  and  by  and  by  in  [.lace  of 
their  little  standing  water  they  have  the  ocean's 
boundless  fields  to  roam  in.  When  the  tide  is  out 
— when  religion  is  low — the  faithful  are  to  be  found 
insulated,  here  a  few  and  there  a  few,  in  the  little 
standing  pools  that  stud  the  beach,  having  no  deal- 
ings with  their  neighbours  of  the  adjacent  pools, 
calling  them  Samaritans,  and  fancying  that  their 
own  little  communion  includes  all  that  are  precious 
in  God's  sight.  They  forget  for  a  time  that  there 
is  a  vast  and  expansive  ocean  rising— every  ripple, 
every  influx  brings  it  nearer — a  miL;hty  communion, 
even  the  communion  of  saints,  which  is  to  engulf 
all  minor  considerations  and  to  enable  the  fishers  of 
all  pools,  the  Christians^the  Christ-lovers — of  all 
denominations  to  come  together.  When  like  a 
flood  the  Spirit  flows  into  the  churches,  church 
will  join  to  church,  and  saint  will  join  to  saint,  and 
all  will  rejoice  to  find  that  if  their  little  pools  have 
perished,  it  is  not  by  the  scorching  summer  s  drought, 
nor  the  casting  in  of  earthly  rubbish,  but  by  the  in- 
flux of  that  boundless  sea  whose  glad  waters  touch 
eternity,  and  in  whose  ample  depths  the  saints  in 
heaven  as  well  as  the  saints  on  earth  have  room  enough 
to  range.  Yes,  our  churches  are  the  standing  pools 
along  the  beach,  with  just  enough  of  their  peculiar 
element  to  keep  the  few  inmates  living  during  this 
ebb-tide  period  of  the  Church's  history.  But  they 
form  a  very  little  fellowship — the  largest  is  but  little  ; 
yet  is  there  steadily  flowing  in  a  tide  of  universal 
life  and  love  which,  as  it  lips  in  over  the  margin  of 
the  little  pool,  will  stir  its  inhabitants  with  an  un- 
wonted vivacity  and  then  let  them  loose  in  the  large 
range  of  the  Spirit's  own  communion.  Happy 
church,  farthest  down  upon  the  strand,  nearest  the 
rising  ocean's  edge.  Happy  church,  whose  sec- 
tarianism shall  first  be  swept  away  in  this  inunda- 
tion of  love  and  joy,  whose  communion  shall  first 
break  forth  into  that  purest  and  holiest  and  yet  most 
comprehensive  of  all  communions,  the  communion 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Would  to  God  that  church 
were  ours  !  — haniilton,  1814-1867. 

(ii202.)  The  union  of  Christians — and  of  churches, 
for  that  matter — is  to  come  from  this  characteristic 
spirit  of  love,  or  from  nothing  at  all.  A  physical 
union  of  all  denominations  is  manifestly  impossible. 
There  can  be  no  such  union.  Nor  will  identity  of 
intellect  (that  is  doctrinal  sameness),  or  identity  of 
instruments  (that  is  ecclesiastical  institutions),  ever 
constitute  a  true  union.  That  is  to  consist,  in  the 
mass  of  men,  of  the  same  quality  which  makes  each 
one  of  them  a  child  of  Christ — namely,  the  dominant 
spirit  of  a  pure  benevolence.  You  may  attempt  to 
bring  churches  together  ;  but  it  is  easier  to  weld 
iron  that  is  cold  than  to  unite  churches  by  simply 
making  them  think  and  act  alike.  You  must  make 
them  feel  alike  in  this  one  great  element  of  bene- 
volent, gospel,  Christian  love,  before  you  can  unite 
them.  When  the  ruling  element  of  all  denomina- 
tions in  any  age  shall  be  love,  then  there  can  be  no 
separation  of  them,  except  a  bodily  separation. 
You  cannot  build  a  wall  so  high  or  so  bro.id  that 
my  heart  cannot  go  over  it  or  through  it  to  the  heart 
of  one  that  1  love  ;  and  you  cannot  build  a  wall  in 
the  sanctuary  so  high  or  so  broad  that  the  hearts 


CHURCH.     THE 


(    214    ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


of  those  that  love  each  other  cannot  get  together  ; 
and  if  you  throw  down  every  wall,  there  can  be  no 
unity  unless  there  is  love.  The  union  of  love  is  the 
only  union  which  Christ  sought  to  establish,  or 
which  is  attainable  in  this  world. 

When  winter  reigns,  your  birds  sing  to  you  in 
their  cage,  and  in  your  house,  and  nobody  hears 
them  sing  but  you  ;  when  winter  reigns,  your  flowers 
are  the  light  of  your  parlour  ;  but  when  summer 
comes,  you  cannot  any  longer  hinder  my  hearing 
your  robins,  though  they  smg  in  your  orchard,  or 
smelling  your  honeysuckles,  though  they  twine  over 
your  doorpost.  And  when  there  is  throughout 
Christendom  the  true  spirit  of  universal  love,  you 
cannot  hinder  the  ineffable  virtues  of  men  from 
commingling. 

Love  is  to  the  soul  what  perfume  is  to  the  air,  that, 
rising,  forgets  whence  it  came  ;  that  forgets  the 
cups,  and  cells,  and  blossoms,  in  which  it  was  born. 
That  which  is  sweetest  of  all  the  flowers  moves 
through  the  air  as  a  universal  bounty,  and  as  a 
common  wealth.  And  the  day  is  to  come  when, 
out  of  each  soul,  blossoming,  shall  rise  a  sweet 
fragrance  that  shall  mingle  with  the  fragrance  of 
other  souls,  and  when  there  shall  be  an  ineffable 
union — a  union  that  is  moral  and  spiritual — between 
Christians  of  every  name.  — Beeclier. 

6.  Love  to  Clirlst  the  sole  and  sufficient  bond  of 
nnlon. 

(1203.)  The  union  for  which  the  Lord  Jesus 
prayed  was  a  union  of  spiritual  men — a  union  not  of 
mere  professors  but  of  His  true  disciples — a  union 
in  the  Lord.  Any  other  union  is  little  worth. 
A  union  of  professors  with  professors  of  one  dead 
church  with  another  dead  church  is  but  a  filling  of 
the  charnel  house,  a  heaping  of  the  compost-pile. 
A  union  of  dead  professors  with  living  saints,  this 
union  of  life  and  deaih  is  but  to  pour  the  green  and 
putrid  water  of  the  stagnant-pool  into  the  living 
spring.  It  is  not  to  graft  new  branches  into  the 
goodly  vine,  but  to  bandage  on  dead  boughs  that 
will  but  deform  it.  It  is  not  to  gather  new  wheat 
into  the  garner,  but  to  blend  the  wheat  and  chaff 
again  together.  It  is  not  to  gather  new  sheep  into 
the  fold,  but  it  is  to  borrow  the  shepherd's  brand 
and  imprint  it  on  the  dogs  and  wolves  and  call  them 
sheep.  The  identifying  of  christened  pagans  with 
the  peculiar  people  has  done  much  dishonour  to  the 
Redeemer,  has  deluded  many  souls,  and  made  it 
much  more  difficult  for  the  Church  to  convince  the 
world. 

It  was  not  this  amalgamation  of  the  Church  and 
the  world  which  the  Saviour  contemplated  when  He 
prayed  for  His  people's  unity.  It  was  a  union  of 
spiritual  men — a  holy  unity  springing  from  oneness 
with  Himself.  Union  with  Christ  is  an  indispens- 
able preliminary  to  union  with  the  Church  of  Christ. 
An  individual  must  be  joined  to  Christ  before  he  can 
be  a  true  member  of  the  Church  of  Christ.  And 
those  individuals  and  those  churches  which  are  the 
most  closely  joined  to  Christ  are  the  nearest  to  one 
another,  and  will  be  the  first  to  coalesce  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  Christ's  prayer — "  May  they  all  be  one  !  " 
— Hamilton,   18 14- 1867. 

6.  Falsely  claimed  by  tbe  cburcb  of  Rome. 

(1204.)  Yes :  the  great  idea  of  an  undivided 
Church,  completely  fused  and  compacted  by  love  and 
bv  truth,  cam    down  from  heaven  ;  but  the  treasure 


was  received  m  earthen  vessels  which  could  not 
contain  it  :  the  vessels  broke,  and  the  treasure  was 
lost.  1  kiiow  that  the  Church  of  Rome  insists  still 
that  visible  unity  is  a  mark  of  the  Church,  and  that  she 
alone  exhibits  that  mark,  and  that  no  other  Christian 
body  separated  from  her  can  claim  the  title  of  a 
Church,  because  it  wants  one  of  its  essential  notes. 
But  such  pietensions  cannot  be  admitted.  The 
mirror  in  which  the  ascended  Lord  was  to  be  visibly 
reflected  to  an  admiring  world  has  been  broken  to 
pieces.  Every  fragment  still  reflects,  but  more  or 
less  perfectly,  the  Lord  of  glory.  To  take  up  one 
of  the  pieces,  much  defiled  by  the  earth  on  which  it 
has  fallen,  and  to  set  in  a  gaudy  frame,  and  to  say, 
"  This  fragment  is  the  mirror,  and  all  the  rest  are 
nothing,  "  this  may  deceive  some  who  yearn  so 
much  for  unity,  that  they  would  rather  admit  than 
sift  the  claim.  But  earnest  hearts  sicken  at  the  vain 
pretensions.  From  east  to  west,  in  parts  of  which 
Rome  know  nothing,  voices  of  praise  arise  to  the 
one  Lord  of  all  believers  ;  and  works  of  good  are 
done  in  the  name  and  in  the  power  of  that  Lord. 
The  Lord  is  their  Judge,  the  Lord  is  their  Lawgiver, 
the  Lord  is  their  King.  To  deny  that  they  are 
Christ's  seems  hardly  to  stop  short  of  blasphemy 
against  Him  whose  power  is  seen  among  them. 
That  Rome  should  claim  to  be  the  sole  trustee  of 
that  precious  gift,  because  of  the  mark  of  unity,  is 
indeed  a  bold  assumption.  Rome,  ever  more  ready 
to  cut  off  than  to  embrace  ;  Rome,  that  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  those  holy  aspirations  after  a 
purer  worship  and  a  truer  teaching  which  brought 
round  the  Reformation.  Rome,  like  her  sisters,  may 
muse  in  sorrow  over  Christ's  promise  of  unity  made 
seeming  void  by  man's  sin  ;  but  for  her,  less  than 
for  others,  is  the  arrogant  pretension  that  she  alone 
is  the  Divine  Zion,  and  all  that  she  has  cut  off  are 
useless  fragments  cast  into  the  darkness.  And  yet 
so  deep-seated  is  the  love  for  unity,  that  many  have 
accepted  her  at  her  word,  and  sought  in  her  bosom 
what  she  had  not  to  give.  Because  the  flower  is 
withered,  they  have  been  fain  to  clasp  to  their  bosom 
an  artificial  flower,  different  even  to  the  eye  from 
that  which  it  would  imitate,  but  without  the  life  or 
the  odour.  All  we,  the  rest,  to  whom  such  pre- 
tensions are  an  idle  tale,  sit  brooding  on  the  seeming 
frustration  of  a  most  blessed  promise.  Where  is  the 
one  fold,  whose  sheep  is  one  flock  following  the  lead- 
ing footsteps  of  the  one  Shepherd  into  green  pastures 
that  never  fail  ?  God's  promise  cannot  have  been  in 
vain.  Man  must  have  hindered  it ;  God  hath  not 
forgotten  it  1  — Archbishop  Thomson. 

7.  A.  call  to  union. 

(1205.)  The  controversies  which  one  evangelic 
church  has  with  another— and  it  is  a  misnomer 
calling  that  a  church  which  does  not  preach  the 
gospel — are  very  trivial  compared  with  that  con- 
troversy which  the  Church  of  Christ  has  with 
the  world.  One  heresy,  called  "drunkenness,"  is 
ruining  far  more  souls  than  any  church  is  saving. 
The  sect  of  the  Sabbath-breakers  outnumbers  any 
denomination  in  England.  And  there  is  an  in- 
finitely wider  interval  between  the  party  who  deny 
the  sole-sufficiency  of  the  atonement,  or  who  be- 
lieving it  refuse  to  preach  it  publicly,  than  between 
all  the  denominations  in  Europe,  whose  watch- 
word is  the  old  Reformation  talisman — "Jehovah- 
Tsidkenu — the  Lord  our  Rigl  teousness."  And 
whilst    mere    are    many  parishes    in    England    and 


CHURCH.     THE 


i     215  ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


Scotland  where  a  free  and  full  salvation  is  not 
preached  at  all,  or  preached  so  obscurely  that  people 
cannot  understand  it,  or  so  timidly  that  they  are 
afraid  to  believe  it  ;  whilst  there  are  myriads  in  this 
very  city  whom  you  must  compel  to  come  in,  or  else 
they  will  never  come  into  the  house  of  God  at  all  ; 
whilst  many  are  preaching  another  gospel  which  is 
not  another,  and  subverting  the  grace  of  God,  are 
we  to  lavish  all  our  strength  on  ephemeral  con- 
troversy and  mutual  recrimination  ?  Are  we  to 
waste  the  rapid  days  and  allow  the  harvest  to  rot  upon 
the  fields,  whilst  we  are  settling  which  is  the  best 
form  of  the  sickle,  and  debating  in  what  sort  of 
vehicles  we  shall  carry  home  the  sheaves?  Are 
there  not  all-important  truths  for  which  our  con- 
curring testimony,  and  helping  prayers,  and  mutual 
countenance,  would  be  all  too  little  to  win  a  nation's 
reluctant  ear  ;  and  in  the  effort  to  rouse  a  sleeping 
world,  and  convert  an  ungodly  kingdom,  will  any 
voice  be  loud  enough  except  the  unileil  cry  of  an 
awakening  Church?  Amongst  the  higher  orders 
and  middling  classes  of  Hritisli  society  are  many  who 
make  no  religious  profession,  and  many  more  who 
make  a  general  profession,  but  on  whom  Divine 
realities  have  such  shadowy  hold,  that  in  the  testing 
trials  of  Christian  principle  you  may  with  painful 
certainty  foretell  the  result.  Amongst  the  imlustrious 
and  more  independent  classes  is  a  fearful  multitude, 
especially  in  rural  places,  whom  mental  torpor  and 
uninquiring  ignorance  have  prepared  for  any  faith 
or  fancy  which  authority  may  enjoin  :  and  another 
multitude,  abounding  in  cities  and  manufacturing 
regions,  too  acute  to  credit  the  dreams  of  super- 
stition, but  in  ignorance  of  revelation  and  in  dislike 
of  its  restraints,  all  too  ready  to  hail  the  scorning 
infidelity,  which  in  a  land  of  free  inquiry  is  super- 
stition's unfailing  satellite.  For  such  a  state  of 
things  there  is  but  one  remedy.  It  is  that  only  form 
of  truth  so  important  and  so  true,  as  to  be  worthy  of 
the  Spirit's  demonstration — the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus.  But  to  secure  wide  and  efficient  circulation  for 
this  truth,  would  need  the  undiverted  strength  and 
diligence  of  a// who  know  and  love  it.  An  evangelical 
union  for  evangelistical  purposes  was  never  more 
needed  than  it  is  this  day  ;  and  as  the  materials  for 
such  union  are  not  wanting,  and  the  providential 
call  to  it  is  louder  every  day,  why  do  we  postpone? 
In  days  of  confusion  and  bloodshed,  ihe  first  thing 
that  united  Europe  was  a  crusade  against  the  infidel. 
The  first  thing  that  will  unite  a  torn  and  distracted 
Church  will  be  a  cross-exalting  war, — a  crusade 
upon  the  world, — a  simultaneous  forthgoing  in  the 
wake  of  that  banner,  which  did  we  lovingly  eye  and 
implicitly  follow,  we  should  conquer  at  once  the 
world  and  ourselves.     A  confeukracy  for  the 

RESUSCITATIUN  OF  GOSPEL  TRUTH,  AND  FOR  THE 
REVIVAL  OF  TRUE  RELIGION,  WOULD  ITSELF  BE 
UNION. 

— Hamilton,  1 814-1867. 

X.    UNIFORMITY. 

1,  Is  not  supremely  important. 

(1206.)  A  church  is  none  the  better  for  its  outward 
unity,  and  its  magnificent  and  beautiful  forms,  if  it 
have  no  inward  life,  and  no  beauty  of  holiness.  "A 
li\ing  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion  "  A  living  tree, 
though  it  shows  about  it  some  unnatural  oftshoots, 
some  crooked  growths,  yet,  if  its  l^ranclies  bear  some 
pleasant  fruit,    is   far   better   tuan   a   dead  tree   of 


stately  form  and  formal  stateliness,  whose  heart 
is  rotten  or  whose  fruit  is  cast  and  withered. 
There  is,  away  in  the  Eastern  hemisphere,  a  body 
of  water,  whose  surface  tlie  winds  and  storms 
of  heaven  never  ruffle  ;  its  outward  form  is  always 
the  same  ;  but  whose  waters  are  black  and  bitter 
and  heavy  ;  no  living  thing  is  in  them  ;  and  beneath 
them  are  unsepulclired  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and 
the  cities  of  the  plain.  They  call  it  the  Dead  Sea. 
So  a  church  may  have  an  outward  uniformity,  and 
boast  of  its  unchanging  forms  and  ceremonies,  and 
yet  have  none  living  within  it.  It  may  be  like  the 
garnished  sepulchres  of  the  Jews,  beautiful  in  out- 
ward appearance,  and  within  the  dwelling-place  of 
death.  When  the  visible  Church,  of  any  form  or 
order,  is  unduly  exalted,  and  its  ceremonies  and 
government  too  highly  valued,  the  only  source  of 
spiritual  life,  and  the  only  means  of  spiritual  growth, 
are  likely  to  be  neglected.  When  the  gold  seems 
greater  than  the  temple  which  sanctified  the  gold, 
then  the  evidence  of  union  with  Christ  is  incomplete  ; 
for  lie  is  not  the  head  of  any  particular  visible  church, 
but  only  of  the  Church  invisible  and  universal.  And 
all  true  believers  seek  their  spiritual  life  in  Him, 
by  direct  and  intimate  commune  of  the  soul  with 
the  Spirit,  not  through  any  human  meditations,  or 
church  order,  or  sacraments,  or  rites  and  forms  of 
worship.  — E.  E.  Hall. 

2.  Does  not  Instire  iinlty. 

(1207.)  Mere  denominational  uniformity  is  not 
Christian  unity.  It  is  a  favourite  project  with 
many  in  the  present  day  to  single  out  some  sect — 
usually  their  own — and  then  say  to  themselves,  *'  If 
we  could  only  get  all  the  world  to  join  us  there 
would  be  unity."  And  so  possessed  are  they  with 
the  notion  that  the  unity  of  the  Church  consists  in 
conformity  to  them  ;  that  many  of  them  have  deter- 
mined to  know  nothing  among  men,  save  their 
Church  (meaning  their  own  community)  and  con- 
formity thereto.  Their  union  is  separation  from 
non-canonical  Christians ;  and  could  they  make 
but  one  font,  one  surplice,  and  one  service-book 
for  all,  they  are  persuaded  the  Church  would 
be  one.  In  place  of  unity  ol  spirit,  they  labour 
for  unity  of  costume.  They  cannot  understand 
a  united  family  which  does  not  wear  a  regimental 
uniform. 

We,  on  the  other  hand,  have  seen  a  uniformity 
where  there  was  nothing  b  t  the  form.  The  Church 
of  the  Middle  Ages  was  united  just  as  the  sleepers  in 
the  funeral  vault  are  united,  in  the  tranquillity  of 
death.  It  was  like  listening  at  the  door  of  a 
sepulchre  :  Hush !  for  all  is  peace  within.  Enter, 
and  all  is  uniform — uniformly  dead — black  frieze  and 
rottenness — a  sepulchre  of  souls.  The  Church  of  the 
early  centuries  was  united,  a<=  .scorpions  are  united 
when  one  glass  receiver  holds  them  and  leaves  them 
room  to  fret  about,  and  strike  their  stings  into  one 
another.  There  was  uniformity,  but  it  was  not  unity, 
for  the  world  did  not  believe.  The  world  saw 
it  and  was  hardened  ;  the  world  saw  it  and  blas- 
phemed. To  preserve  the  unity  of  the  Church  they 
excommunicated  or  burned  alive  those  who  thought 
or  believed  for  themselves,  till  faith  had  well-nigh 
erished  from  the  earth.  The  Church  became  so 
Catholic,  that  there  was  no  place  found  for  the  Gos- 
pel. The  union  of  coercion,  or  the  union  which, 
as  the  first  term  of  communion,  takes  away  your 
right  of  priv»ic  judgment,  is   not   the   union  con* 


cHURCH.     THE 


(    aK5   ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


templated  by  Him,  the  fust  law  of  whose  kingdom 
(S  love,  and  the  tirst  gift  of  whose  Spirit  is  light. 
— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

3   Is  uot  essential. 

(1208.)  Uiflerent  Christians  may  have  their 
opinions  and  preferences  in  favour  of  different  forms 
of  discipline,  matters  of  order  antl  modes  of  worship. 
Let  each,  by  all  means,  enjoy  what  he  prefers,  and 
hold  to  that  of  which  he  is  persuaded.  The  jorm  of 
the  fold  is  not  the  source  of  the  life,  nor  essential  to 
the  security  of  tiie  sheep.  His  sheep  they  may  be 
— all  belonj^ingto  the  one  flock — and  all  alike  loved 
and  watched  over  by  the  one  Great  Shepherd, 
though  they  may  be  gathered  into  pens  framed  after 
a  somewhat  different  fashion.  — Binney. 

4.  Impossible  and  undesirable. 

(12C9.)  A  great  stress  has  indeed  been  often  laid 
upon  uniformity  of  sentiment  and  modes  of  worship  ; 
but  this,  in  the  present  state  of  human  nature,  can 
no  more  be  effected  either  by  force  or  persuasion, 
than  men  can  be  forced  or  persuaded  to  a  uniformity 
of  stature  or  complexion  ;  and  if  it  were  practicable, 
it  might  prove  of  little  value.  The  form  of  religion 
may  be  strenuously  contended  for  by  those  who  are 
strangers  to  the  power  of  it ;  but  the  best  form  we 
can  conceive,  if  destitute  of  power,  is  lifeless,  like 
the  body  without  the  soul. 

— Newton,   1725-1807. 

(1210.^  There  is  one  glory  of  the  sun,  says  St. 
Paul,  and  another  glory  of  the  moon,  and  aiiotli^r 
glory  of  the  stars,  for  one  star  differeth  from  another 
in  glory.  Nor,  in  respect  of  variety,  is  heaven 
itself  unlike  the  firmament  which  forms  its  starry 
floor.  Basking  in  the  cloudless  sunshine  of  God's 
countenance,  and  engaged  day  and  night  in  the 
lofty  services  of  His  throne,  are  difieient  orders 
of  celestials — angels  and  archangels,  seraphim  and 
cherubim,  principalities,  dominion,  and  powers — all 
perfect  mirrors  of  the  Divine  perfection  ;  yet  each 
class,  like  the  stars  beneath  their  feet,  differing  from 
another  in  glory.  And  on  leaving  heaven  for  earth, 
we  find  that,  however  widely  they  differ,  variety  is 
equally  a  feature  of  both.  The  very  globe  itself 
presents  a  series  of  heights  and  hollows,  hills  and 
dales,  mountains  that,  towering  above  the  clouds, 
are  covered  with  eternal  snow,  and  valleys  that, 
robed  in  flowers  and  crowned  with  fruit,  lie  smiling 
at  their  giant  feet — often,  as  the  humbler  classes  of 
society  would  be,  had  they  grace  to  look  without 
envy  on  those  above  them,  happier  in  their  humility 
than  the  mountains  that  overshadow  them  in  their 
cold,  stormy,  lofty,  barren  pride.  A  corresponding 
variety  meets  and  delights  us  in  every  department 
of  nature ;  for  though  in  the  services  of  Divine 
worship  within  the  Church,  some,  the  worst  enemies 
of  unity,  insist  on  unilormity,  we  may  say,  as  the 
old  philosophers  did  of  vacuum,  that  Nature  abhors 
iL     Uniformity  is  not  the  mind  or  manner  of  God. 

—  Guthrie. 

6.  Tbe  absurdity  and  mlschievousness  of  InalBt' 
Ing  on  it. 

(121 1.)  It  seems  to  me  a  strange  penalty  to  forbid 
men  to  worship  God  at  all,  because  they  think 
some  subscriptions  or  forms  to  be  sin.  More  strange 
than  to  say,  all  that  will  not  wear  crape  shall  go 
naked  ;  or  all  that  will  not  eat  anchovies  shall  eat 
nothing.     If  a  man  tlu.ik  the  use  of  a  crucifix  in 


worship  sinful,  surely  to  give  over  all  worship  is 
more  sinful.     But  men  have  their  ways. 

— Baxter',   1615-1691. 

(1212.)  Physicians  use  their  patients  with  some 
humanity,  and  will  not  say  to  him  that  saitli,  "My 
stomach  cannot  take  down  this  potion  :  I  shall  cast 
it  up,"  "  You  shall  take  it,  ordie,  or  gp  to  prison."  Or 
if  one  say,  "This  pi:l  is  bigger  than  my  throat  can 
swallow,"  they  will  rather  say,  it  shall  be  made  less, 
than  they  will  cut  his  throat  wider  to  get  it  down. 
And  sure  the  reason  is  because  the  law  doth  make 
them  physicians  to  none  but  volunteers,  and  give 
them  no  compelling  power.  If  it  did,  I  know  not 
what  inhumanity  they  might  come  to.  For  I  will 
not  believe  that  there  is  anything  in  divinity  which 
tendeth  to  make  men  more  inhuman  than  physicians. 
I  have  seen  Jews  and  others  that  will  eat  no  swine's 
flesh ;  and  I  have  known  many  that  a  taste  of  cheese 
would  cast  into  a  swoon  near  death  ;  and  I  nevei 
knew  any  say,  "  You  shall  eat  this  or  die  ; "  nor  that 
ever  motioned  the  making  of  a  law,  that  all  men 
should  be  imprisoned,  or  forbidden  all  other  meat, 
who  refused  to  eat  swine's  flesh,  for  fear  of  tolerating 
Jew.«. 

But  we  have  priests  too  many  that  will  say, 
"Take  every  oath,  promise,  or  ceremony  required 
of  you,  or  preach  not,  nor  worship  God  openly  at 
all ;  take  me  for  your  pastor,  or  you  shall  have 
none  ;  hear  me,  or  hear  no  man  ;  receive  the  com- 
munion from  me,  or  from  none ;  deny  not  the  law- 
fulness of  a  ceremony,  or  be  excommunicate.  " 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1213.)  Is  it  not  a  strange  thing  to  hear  men  ^»^c<^ 
others  for  not  using  the  liturgy  in  God's  worship, 
and  at  the  same  time  would  have  them  that  rei*  ise  it 
to  be  forbidden  all  public  worshipping  of  God  at  all  ? 
Doth  this  signify  any  dislike  of  their  omitting  God's 
worship?  Which  is  the  more  ungodly  omission? 
To  omit  all  worship  of  God  and  live  like  atheists,  or 
to  omit  only  so  much  of  the  liturgy  as  the  apostles 
used  not  ?  I  have  known  many  that  could  not  eat 
cheese,  as  is  said  before  (nor  scarce  smell  it,)  without 
danger  of  death.  If  you  would  have  a  law  made 
that  such  shall  eat  no  other  meat,  few  wise  men  will 
believe  that  it  is  their  health  and  life  that  you  desire. 
If  a  man  fail  in  paying  some  excise,  or  using  bow 
and  arrows,  vvill  you  forbid  him  paying  anything  or 
serving  the  king  at  all  ?  Surely  they  that  forbid  men 
all  public  worship  be  offended  at  somewhat  else 
than  that  men  do  not  rightly  worship  God,  unless 
they  think  that  not  to  worship  Him  at  all  is  betl  r 
than  doing  it  without  their  book. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1214.)  This  vice  of  pretended  certainty  and 
knowledge  hath  set  up  several  false  terms  of  Chris- 
tian unity  and  peace,  and  by  them  hath  done  moie 
to  hinder  the  Church's  peace  and  unity  than  most 
devices  ever  did  which  Satan  ever  contrived  to 
that  end.  By  this  Church-tearing  vice,  abundance 
of  falsehoods,  and  abundance  of  things  uncertain, 
and  abuntlance  of  things  unnecessary,  have  been 
made  so  necessary  to  the  union  and  communion  of 
the  churches  and  their  members,  as  that  thereby  the 
Christian  world  hath  been  ground  to  powder  by  the 
names  and  false  pretences  of  unity  and  peace. 
Just  as  if  a  wise  statesman  would  advise  His  Majesty, 
that  none  may  be  his  subjects  that  are  not  ol  one 
age,    one   stature,   one   complexion,    and   one   dis- 


CHURCH.     THE 


(    217     ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


position,  that  so  he  might  have  subjects  more  per- 
fectly concordant  than  all  the  princes  on  earth 
besides  ;  and  so  might  be  the  most  glorious  defender 
of  unity  and  peace.  But  how  must  this  be  done? 
Why,  command  them  all  to  be  of  your  mind  ;  but 
that  prevaileth  not,  and  yet  it  is  undone.  Why,  then, 
they  are  oljstinate,  self-willed  persons.  Well,  but 
yet  it  is  undone.  Why,  lay  fines  and  penalties 
upon  them.  Well,  but  yet  it  is  undone  ; — all  the 
hypocrites  that  had  no  religion  are  of  the  religion 
which  is  uppermost,  and  the  rest  are  uncured. 
Why,  require  more  bricks  of  them,  and  let  them 
have  no  straw,  and  tell  them  that  their  religion  is 
Aheir  idleness,  stubbornness  and  pride,  and  let  your 
little  finger  be  heavier  than  your  father's  loins. 
But  hearken,  young  counsellors,  Jeroboam  will  have 
the  advantage  of  all  this,  and  still  the  sore  will  be 
unhealed.  Why,  then,  banish  them,  and  hang  them 
that  obey  not,  till  there  are  none  left  that  are  not  of 
one  mind.  But,  sir,  I  pray  you,  who  shall  do  it  ? 
and  who  shall  that  one  man  be  that  shall  be  left  to 
have  all  the  kingdom  ?  You  are  not  such  a  fool  as  to 
be  ignorant  that  no  two  men  will  agree  in  all  things, 
nor  be  perfectly  of  the  same  complexion.  If  there 
must  be  one  king,  and  but  one  subject,  I  pray  you 
who  shall  that  one  subject  be?  I  hope  not  he  that 
counselleth  it :  "Nequeenim  lexjustior  ullaest,  quam 
\iecis  artifices  arte  perire  sua."  But  hark  you,  sir, 
ihall  that  one  man  have  a  wife  or  not?  If  not,  the 
kingdom  will  die  with  him  :  if,  yea  I  dare  prognos- 
ticate, he  and  his  wife  will  not  be  in  all  things  of  a 
mind.  If  they  be,  take  me  for  a  mistaken  man. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

XI.  IMPORTANCE  OP  THE  MAINTENANCE 
OF  DUE   ORDER. 

(12 1 5.)  Study  to  be  quiet,  and  meddle  with  your 
own  business.  The  Church  of  God  is  as  the  body 
of  man.  In  a  man's  body  every  part  hath  his  several 
office,  the  arm,  the  leg,  the  hand,  the  foot,  do  what 
whereto  they  are  appointed  ;  and  doing  the  same, 
they  live  together  in  peace.  But  if  the  arm  would 
take  in  hand  to  do  that  is  the  duty  of  the  leg,  or  the 
foot  that  is  the  part  of  the  hand,  it  would  breed 
great  disorder  in  the  whole  body.  So  if  every  man 
in  the  Church  of  God  seek  to  do  that  to  them 
belongeth,  the  Church  shall  flourish  and  be  quiet ; 
but  when  every  man  will  be  busy,  and  take  upon 
him  to  look  into  other  ;  when  every  private  man 
will  govern,  and  the  subject  take  in  hand  to  rule  the 
prince,  all  must  needs  come  to  wreck  and  decay. 
— Jewel,  1 522-1 57 1. 

(1216.)  As  there  is  an  order  in  God  Himself, 
even  in  the  Blessed  Trinity,  where,  though  the 
persons  l>e  co-eternal  and  co-equal,  and  the  essence 
itself  of  the  Deity  indivisible,  yet  there  is  the  first, 
second,  and  third  person.  And  as  in  God,  so  in 
the  whole  creation  :  angels  have  their  orders,  thrones 
and  dominions,  principalities  and  powers,  and  an 
archangel,  that  at  the  last  shall  blow  the  trumpet. 
So  it  is  amongst  the  saints,  the  souls  of  just  men 
perfected  :  all  of  them  have  enough,  none  of  them 
want  ;  yet  there  is  a  difference  in  the  measure  of 
their  glory,  because  every  one  hath  his  own  reward 
according  to  his  labour.  Stars  are  not  all  of  one 
magnitude,  one  differs  from  another  in  glory.  As 
for  things  below,  some  have  only  a  being  ;  some, 
being  and  life  ;  oihers,  b?ing,  life,  and  sense  ;  and 
others,  "■•*sides  all  thsse,  \iave  reason   and    under- 


standing. All  arts  and  sciences,  before  they  can  be 
learned,  must  be  reduced  into  order  an^  method. 
A  camp  well  disciplined  is  a  perfect  pattern  of 
good  order  ;  nay,  there  is  a  kind  of  order  even  in 
hell  itself,  a  place  of  disoider  and  confusion  ;  and 
shall,  then,  God  and  Belial,  angels  and  men,  saints 
and  devils,  heaven  and  earth,  be  all  in  order,  and 
the  Church  out?  It  cannot  be:  the  Church  is  to 
be  as  an  army  with  banners,  to  consist  of  governors 
and  governed,  some  to  teach  and  some  to  hear, 
each  in  his  own  order.  — Atiersol,  1618. 

(1217.)  In  the  ringing  of  bells,  whilst  every  one 
keeps  his  due  time  and  order,  what  a  sweet  and 
harmonious  sound  they  make  !  all  the  neighbouring 
villages  are  cheered  with  the  sound  of  them  ;  but 
when  once  they  jar  and  check  each  other,  either 
jangling  together  or  striking  preposterously,  how 
harsh  and  unpleasing  is  that  noise  !  So  that  as  we 
testify  our  public  rejoicings  by  an  orderly  and  well- 
tuned  peal,  when  we  would  signify  the  town  is  on 
fire  we  ring  the  bells  backward,  in  a  confused 
manner.  It  is  just  thus  in  Church  and  common- 
wealth :  when  every  one  knows  his  station  and 
keeps  his  due  rank,  there  is  a  melodious  concert  of 
comfort  and  contentment  ;  but  when  either  states  or 
persons  will  be  clashing  with  each  other,  the  dis' 
cord  is  grievous  and  extremely  prejudicial. 

— Hail,  1 574-1656. 

Xn.    DISSENSIONS    IN    THE   CHURCH. 

1.  Are  often  due  to  trivial  causes. 

(1218.)  Dr.  Cannon  was  once  appealed  to  by  a 
certain  church  where  there  was  a  great  commotion 
in  regard  to  the  point,  whether  in  newly  painting 
their  church  edifice  the  colour  should  be  white  or 
yellow.  When  the  committee  had  stated  their 
case,  and  with  an  emphasis,  not  to  say  acrimony, 
which  gave  sad  proof  of  the  existence  of  a  fearful 
feud  upon  the  unimportant  question,  the  doctor 
quietly  said,  "I  should  advise  you,  on  the  whole, 
to  paint  the  house  black.  It  is  cheap,  and  a  good 
colour  to  wear,  and  eminently  appropriate  for  a 
biidy  that  ought  to  go  in  mourning  over  such  a 
foolish  quarrel  among  its  members." 

2.  Are  always  unreasonable. 

{1219.)  Suppose  a  master,  before  he  goes  forth, 
should  charge  his  servant  to  look  to  his  child,  and 
trim  up  the  house  handsomely  against  he  comes 
home ;  but  when  he  returns,  will  he  thank  his 
servant  for  sweeping  his  house  and  making  it  trim 
(as  he  bade  him),  if  he  find  his  child  through 
negligence  fallen  into  the  fire,  and  so  killed  or 
crippled?  No,  sure;  he  left  his  child  as  his  chief 
charge,  to  which  the  other  should  have  yielded  if 
both  could  not  be  done.  Thus  there  has  been  a 
great  zeal  of  late  amongst  us  about  some  circum- 
stances of  God's  worship  ;  but  who  is  it  that  looks 
to  the  little  child,  the  main  duties  of  Christianity  ? 
Was  there  ever  less  love,  charity,  self-denial, 
heavenly-mindedness,  or  the  power  of  godliness  to 
be  found  than  in  this  sad  age  of  ours?  Alas  !  these, 
like  the  child,  are  in  great  danger  of  perishing  in 
the  fire  of  contention  and  division,  which  a  perverse 
zeal  in  less  things  has  kindled  amongst  us. 

—  Gurnail,  161 7- 1679. 

(1220.)  The  true  unity  of  spirit  is  derived  from 
the  things  in  which  those  who  are  taught  and  bom 


CHURCH.     THE 


(     218     ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


of  God  agree,  and  should  not  be  affected  by  those 
in  which^ithey  differ.  The  Church  of  Christ,  col- 
lectively considered,  is  an  army  ;  they  serve  under 
one  Prince,  have  one  common  interest,  and  are 
opjiosed  by  the  same  enemies.  This  army  is  kept 
up,  and  the  places  of  those  who  are  daily  removed 
to  the  Church  triumphant  supplied  entirely  by  those 
who  are  rescued  and  won  from  the  power  of  the 
enemy,  which  is  chiefly  effected  by  the  Gospel 
ministry. 

This  consideration  should  remind  ministers  that 
it  is  highly  improper  (I  might  use  a  stronger  ex- 
pression) to  waste  much  of  their  time  and  talents, 
wiiich  ought  to  be  employed  against  the  common 
foe,  in  opposing  those  who,  though  they  cannot 
.xactly  agree  with  them  in  every  smaller  point,  are 
perfectly  agreed,  and  ready  to  concur  with  them  in 
promoting  their  princii)al  design.  A  wise  states- 
man, who  has  a  point  much  at  heart  which  he  can- 
not carry  without  assistance,  will  gladly  accept  of 
help  from  persons  of  all  parties  on  whom  he  can 
prevail  to  join  with  I.im,  and  will  not,  at  such  a 
ri.is,  preclude  himself  from  this  advantage  by  an 
jnseasonable  discussion  of  more  minute  concerns, 
in  which  he  knows  they  must  and  will  be  against 
him.  When  I  see  ministers  of  acknowledged  piety 
and  respectable  abilities  very  busy  in  defending  or 
confuting  the  smaller  differences,  which  already  too 
much  separate  those  who  ought  to  be  of  one  heart 
and  one  mind,  though,  while  they  are  all  fallible, 
they  cannot  be  exactly  of  one  judgment  ;  though  I 
give  them  credit  for  their  good  intention,  I  cannot 
but  lament  the  misapplication  of  their  zeal,  which, 
if  directed  into  another  channel,  would  probably 
make  them  much  more  successful  in  winning  souls. 
Let  us  sound  an  alarm  in  the  enemy's  camp,  but  not 
in  our  own  ! 

I  have  somewhere  met  with  a  passage  of  ancient 
history,  the  substance  of  which,  though  my  recollec- 
tion of  it  is  but  imperfect,  I  will  relate,  because  I 
think  it  very  applicable  to  this  part  of  my  subject. 
It  is  an  account  of  two  large  bodies  of  forces  which 
fell  in  with  each  other  in  a  dark  night.  A  battle 
immediately  ensued.  The  attack  and  resistance 
were  supported  with  equal  spirit.  The  contest  was 
fierce  and  bloody.  Great  was  the  slaughter  on  both 
sides,  and  on  both  sides  they  were  on  the  point  of 
claiming  the  victory  ;  when  the  day  broke,  and  as 
the  light  advanced,  they  soon  perceived,  to  their 
astonishment  and  grief,  that,  owing  to  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  they  had  been  fighting  not  with 
enemies  as  they  supposed,  but  with  friends  and 
allies ;  they  had  been  doing  their  enemies'  work, 
and  weakening  the  cause  they  had  wished  to  sup- 
port. The  expectation  of  each  party  to  conquer 
the  other  was  foun<led  upon  the  losses  the  opponent 
had  sustained  ;  and  this  was  what  proportioiiably 
aggravated  their  lamentation  and  distress,  when 
they  had  sufficient  light  to  show  them  the  mischief 
they  had  done.  Ah  !  my  friends,  if  shame  be  com- 
patible with  the  heavenly  state,  as  perhaps  in  a 
sense  it  may  (for  believers,  when  most  happy  here, 
are  most  sensibly  ashamed  of  themselves),  shall  we 
not,  even  then,  be  ashamed  to  think  how  often,  in 
this  dark  world,  we  mistook  our  friends  for  foes, 
and  that,  while  we  thought  we  were  fighting  for 
the  cause  of  God  and  truth,  we  were  wounding 
and  worrying  the  people  whom  He  loved,  and 
perhaps  indulging  our  own  narrow,  selfish,  party 
prejudices  uivifi  the  semblance  of  zeal  for  His 
"lory?  — j\'ewton,  1725-1807. 


(122 1.)  Suppose  the  troops  of  a  nation,  called 
out  against  the  common  enemy,  should  under  the 
influence  of  natural  prejudices  be  continually  en- 
gaged in  quarrels.  And  while  they  expected  to  be 
besieged,  instead  of  strengthening  the  outer  walls 
of  their  fortifications,  they  employed  themselves  in 
raising  lines  of  partition  to  keep  separate  from  one 
another.  Their  common  interests  must  greatly 
suffer.  Let  them  continue  to  wear  their  natural 
costume,  and  each  prefer  their  own  tactics  and 
peculiar  discipline  ;  but  let  them  remember  that 
coldness  and  lukewarmness  in  their  efforts  to  assist 
each  other  against  the  enemy,  and  maintain  the 
cause  for  which  they  were  enlisted,  would  be  sadly 
betraying  the  interest  of  the  sovereign  in  whose 
services  they  were  engaged.  What  must  we  think 
of  those  individuals  who  are  more  intent  to  draw 
lines  of  distinction  than  to  agree  to  differ  ?  The 
true  soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ  should  hold  it  necessary 
to  raise  and  strengthen  the  wall  by  which  Christ's 
Church  is  surrounded,  and  that  not  for  the  purpose 
of  intercepting  the  flow  of  kindness  and  Christian 
philanthropy  from  within,  but  for  the  purpose  of 
intercepting  the  streams  of  contamination  from 
without.  The  line  of  partition  which  obtains  be- 
tween the  Church  and  the  world — the  line  which 
measures  off  the  ground  of  vital  and  evangelical 
religion  from  the  general  ungodliness  of  mere  pro- 
fession, must  be  preserved  and  strengthened.  The 
latitudinarianism  which  would  pull  di'wn  one  of  its 
stones  must  be  abhorred  as  treason.  Let  an  im- 
pregnable sacredness  be  thrown  around  the  people 
who  stand  peculiarised  by  their  devotedness  and 
their  faith,  from  the  general  bulk  of  a  species  who 
are  of  the  earth  and  earthly.  There  are  landmarks 
between  the  children  of  \vj,h\.  and  the  children  of 
darkness  which  can  never  be  moved  away  ;  but 
for  the  lines  of  partition  which  have  been  dra'AT. 
among  themselves,  let  them  be  utterly  swept  away. 
The  signals  of  distinction  between  one  party  of 
Christians  and  another  need  not  be  put  down,  but 
each  allowed  to  wear  its  own.  But  with  zeal  for 
essentials,  they  must  tolerate  each  other  in  the  cir- 
cumstantials of  their  faith  ;  and  under  all  the  variety 
which  they  wear,  whether  of  complexion  or  of  out- 
ward observance,  let  them  recognise  the  brotherhood 
of  a  common  doctrine,  and  of  the  common  spirit  of 
Christianity.  How  else,  in  thus  weakening  the 
cause  of  Christ,  can  we  be  free  from  the  guilt  of 
disloyalty  to  our  Lord  ?  What  Scriptural  partition 
has  He  raised  between  believers  but  this  for  our 
guidance, — "That  they  all  maybe  one,  as  Thou, 
Father,  art  in  Me,  and  I  in  Thee,  tiiat  they  also 
may  be  one  in  us  ;  that  the  world  may  believe  that 
Thou  hast  sent  Me?"  — Hatter. 

(1222.)  For  wolves  to  devour  sheep,  is  no  wonder: 
but  for  sheep  to  devour  one  another,  is  monstrous 
and  astonishing.  — Salter. 

(1223.)  Whenever  two  Christians,  either  of  this 
church  or  that,  begin  to  quarrel  about  matters  of 
ceremonial  detail,  what  is  the  natural  result?  The 
still  small  voice  of  truth  is  lost  in  the  clamour  of 
controversy;  love  decays,  life  dies  ;  and  the  world 
exclaims,  not  as  of  old,  "Behold  how  these  Chris- 
tians love  one  another,"  but,  "  See  how  they  hate 
and  assail  one  another."  Where  we  must  differ  from 
a  Christian  brother  in  many  things  that  he  thinks 
right,  let  us  do  so  without  calling  him  by  a  single 
bad   name  ;    use   the   softest   words,    the    strongesi 


CHURCH.     THE 


(  219  ) 


CHIXCH.     THE 


reasons  ;  and,  depend  upon  it,  strong  reason  couched 
in  courteous  language  will  gain  the  day,  when  violent 
declamation  ensoured  by  a  bitter  spirit  will  do  evil, 
and  gain  no  laurels.  And  instead  of  spending  our 
aggressive  energy  upon  internal  disputes,  let  us 
expend  it  upon  the  masses  of  London  that  hear  no 
chimes  of  Sabbath  bells,  see  no  Sabbath  sun,  and 
are  ignorant  of  those  precious  things  that  we  know. 
Oh  !  while  patients  are  dying  in  the  wards,  let  not 
the  physicians  quarrel  by  the  bedside  about  who 
has  the  best  diploma.  While  souls  are  passing  to 
the  judgment-seat,  we  should  have  no  time  to  dis- 
pute about  mere  mechanical  and  paltry  differences. 

—  Cummin^. 

(1224.)  A  wall  having  become  very  feeble  by  age, 
a  portion  of  it  one  day  fell  down.  Great  consequences 
followed  the  falling  of  the  piece  of  the  old  wall. 

First, — the  sun  was  able  to  pour  more  light 
into  the  gardens  on  either  side,  which  the  height 
of  the  wall  had  obstructed,  so  that  the  flowers 
looked  to  greater  advantage  ;  and  owing  to  their 
having  more  air  and  sunshine,  became  really  more 
beautiful. 

Then, — the  perfume  was  borne  across  the  breach  ; 
so  that  the  gardens  were  the  sweeter. 

"  What  a  pity  that  piece  of  old  wall  had  not 
fallen  down  before,"  said  the  flowers. 

Next, — the  shrubs  looked  over  to  one  another,  and 
got  into  friendly  talk  ;  and  so  they  said,  "  What  a 
good  thing  that  that  piece  of  old  wall  fell  down  ; 
—  it  is  a  pity  it  stood  so  high  so  long." 

Then,  —the  flowers  and  shrubs  of  each  garden 
discovered  that  members  of  their  own  families  had 
been  living  on  the  other  side,  and  therefore  really  near 
to  each  other,  though  they  had  had  no  communion, 
owing  unto  the  wall  between. 

And  Anally,  so  many  benefits  were  seen  to  be  the 
result  of  the  occurrence,  that  instead  of  rebuilding 
the  fallen  part,  the  remainder  was  pulled  down  to  a 
low  level,  that  air  and  sunshine  might  have  freer 
course,  and  the  gardens  a  free  communication.  And 
not  a  few  afterwards  acknowledged  that  a  real  good 
and  blessing  was  the  consequence  unto  all  parties, 
by  the  opportunely  falling  down  of  that  old  dividing 
wail. 

Party-spirit  is  a  wall  of  separation  which  the 
coming  and  the  work  of  Christ  was  intended  to 
remove.  "  For  He  is  our  peace,  who  hath  liroken 
down  the  middle  wall  of  partition  between  us." 
Let  none  now  seek  to  divide  Christians,  by  building 
up  a  wall  of  party-spirit  between  them;  for,  "Behold, 
how  good  and  how  pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to 
dwell  together  in  unity."  — Bo'vden. 

3.  Are  a  hindrance  to  the  progfress  of  tbe  Gospel. 

(1225.)  The  time  for  the  pastures  of  profession  to 
be  green,  and  for  the  field  of  true  godliness  to  grow 
ripe  for  the  harvest,  and  for  the  rose  of  devotion 
and  heavonliness  to  be  fragrant  and  flourish,  is  not  in 
the  olustering  stormy  tempestuous  winter,  but  in  the 
calm  delightful  summer  of  peace. 

Oh,  what  abundance  of  excellent,  hopeful  fruits 
of  godliness  have  I  seen  blown  down  before  they  were 
ripe,  by  the  impetuous  winds  of  wars  and  other 
contentions,  and  so  have  lain  trodden  under  foot  by 
libertinism  and  sensuality,  as  meat  for  swine,  who 
else  might  have  been  their  Master's  delight  !  In  a 
word,  1  never  yet  saw  the  w^rV  of  the  gospel  go  on 


well  in  wars,  nor  the  business  of  men's  salvation 
succeed  among  dissensions  ;  but  if  one  have  in  such 
times  proved  a  gainer,  multitudes  have  been  losers. 
— Baxter,  161 5-169 1. 

4  Enfeeble  and  Imperil  the  Church. 

(1226.)  Melancthon,  persuading  the  divided  Pro- 
testants of  his  time  to  peace  and  unity,  illustrateth 
his  argument  by  a  notable  parable  ot  the  wolves 
and  the  dogs  who  were  marching  onward  to  fight 
one  against  another.  "The  wolves,  that  they 
might  the  better  know  the  strength  of  their  adver- 
sary, sent  forth  a  master-wolf  as  their  scout.  The 
scout  returns,  and  tells  the  wolves  that  indeed  the 
dogs  were  more  in  number,  but  yet  they  should  not 
be  discouraged,  for  he  observed  that  the  dogs  were 
not  one  like  another.  A  few  mastiffs  there  were,  but 
the  most  were  little  curs  which  could  only  bark  but 
not  bite,  and  would  be  afraid  of  their  own  shadow. 
Another  thing  also  he  observed,  which  would  much 
encourage  them,  and  that  was,  that  the  dogs  did 
march  as  if  they  were  more  offended  at  themselves 
than  with  us,  not  keeping  their  ranks,  but  grinning 
and  snarling  and  biting  and  tearing  one  another  as 
if  they  would  save  us  a  labour  ;  and  therefore  let  us 
march  on  resolutely,  for  our  enemies  are  theii  own 
enemies,  enemies  to  themselves  and  their  own 
peace  ;  they  bite  and  devour  each  other,  and  there- 
fore we  shall  certainly  devour  them."  Thus, 
though  a  kingdom  or  state  be  never  so  well  provided 
with  men,  aims,  ammunition,  ships,  walls,  forts, 
and  bulwarks,  yet  notwithstanding,  if  divisions 
and  heart-burnings  get  into  that  kingdom,  that 
state,  or  that  city,  like  a  spreading  gangrene,  they 
will  infect  the  whole,  and,  like  a  breach  made  in  the 
walls  of  a  city  besieged,  they  will  let  in  the  enemy 
to  destroy  it.  Nay,  though  there  should  be  a  king- 
dom of  saints,  if  differences  and  distractions  get 
within  that  kingdom,  they  will,  like  the  worm  in 
Jonah's  gourd,  eat  up  all  the  happiness  of  it  in  one 
night.  — Calamy,   1600-1666. 

(1227.)  You  all  profess  to  have  been  baptized 
into  the  spirit  of  the  gospel ;  but  you  do  not  show 
it,  when  you  bite  and  snarl  at  one  another.  The 
gospel,  that  makes  wolves  and  lambs  agree,  doth 
not  teach  the  lambs  to  turn  wolves  and  devour 
each  the  other.  Our  Saviour  told  the  two  disciples, 
whose  choler  was  so  soon  up,  that  they  would  be  I'otch- 
ing  fire  from  heaven  to  go  on  their  revengeful 
errand,  that  they  little  thought  from  what  hearth 
that  wildfire  of  their  passion  came,  "Ye  know  not 
what  spirit  ye  are  of."  As  if  lie  had  said,  "  Such 
fiery,  wrathful  speeches  do  not  suit  with  the  meek 
Master  you  serve,  nor  with  the  gospel  of  peace  He 
preacheth  to  you."  And  if  the  gospel  will  not 
allow  us  to  pay  our  enemies  in  their  own  coin,  and 
give  them  wrath  for  wrath ;  then  much  less  will  it 
suffer  brethren  to  spit  fire  at  one  another's  face. 
No,  when  any  such  embers  of  contention  begin  to 
smoke  among  Christians,  we  may  know  who  left 
the  spark  ;  no  other  but  Satan,  he  is  the  great 
kindle-coal  of  all  their  contentions.  If  there  be 
tempest  (not  in  the  air)  in  the  spirits  of  Chris- 
tians, and  the  wind  of  their  passions  be  high  and 
loud,  it  is  easy  to  tell  who  is  the  conjuror  :  Oh, 
it  is  the  devil  that  is  practising  his  black  art 
upon  their  lusts,  which  yet  are  »o  much  unmortified, 
as  gives  him  too  great  an  advantage  of  raising  many 
times   sad    stoims  of  division   and    strife   amongst 


CHUPCH.     THE 


(    220    ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


them.  Paul  and  Barnabas  set  out  in  a  calm  together, 
but  the  devil  sends  a  storm  after  them,  such  a  storm 
as  parted  them  in  tiie  mitlst  of  their  voyage.  There 
IS  nothing  (next  Christ  and  heaven)  that  the  devil 
grudges  believers  more  than  their  peace  and 
mutual  love  ;  if  he  cannot  rend  them  from  Christ 
or  stop  them  from  getting  heaven,  yet  he  takes  some 
pleasure  to  see  them  go  thither  in  a  storm  ;  like  a 
shattered  fleet  severed  one  from  another,  tlial  tiiey 
may  have  no  assistance  from,  nor  comfort  of,  each 
other's  company  all  the  way  ;  tliough,  where  he  can 
divide,  he  hopes  to  ruin  also,  well  knowing  this 
to  be  the  most  probable  means  to  effect  it  ;  one 
ship  is  easier  taken  than  a  squadron.  A  town,  if  it 
can  be  but  set  on  fire,  the  enemy  may  hope  to  take 
it  with  more  ease,  l.et  it  therefore  be  your  great 
care  to  keep  the  devil's  spark  from  your  powder. 
Certainly  peace  among  Christians  is  no  small  mercy, 
that  the  devil's  arrows  fly  so  thick  at  its  breast. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(1228.)  The  corruptions  in  a  church  are  not  of  so 
destructive  an  inhuence  as  schisms  and  divisions 
from  it,  the  constant  eifects  of  enthusiasm.  It  being 
much  in  the  body  spiritual  as  in  the  natural ;  where 
that  which  severs  and  dissolves  the  continuity  of 
parts  tends  more  to  the  destruction  of  the  whole 
than  that  which  corrupts  them.  You  may  cure  a 
throat  when  it  is  sore,  but  not  when  it  is  cut. 

— South,  1633-1 7 16. 

6.  Are  a  cause  of  rejoicing  to  tlie  enemies  of 
the  truth. 

(1229.)  Consider  where  you  are,  and  among 
whom  ;  are  you  not  in  your  enemies'  quarters  ?  If 
y  )u  fall  out,  what  do  you  but  kinale  a  fire  for  them 
to  warm  their  hands  by?  Aha  !  so  would  we  have 
it,  say  they.  The  sea  of  their  rage  will  weaken  this 
bank  fast  enough,  you  need  not  cut  it  for  them. 
The  unreasonableness  of  the  strife  betwixt  Abra- 
ham's herdmen  and  Lot's  is  aggravated  by  the  near 
neighbourhood  of  the  heathen  to  them  (Gen.  xiii. 
7).  To  fall  out  while  these  idolaters  looked  on, 
this  would  be  town-talk  presently,  and  put  them- 
selves and  their  religion  both  to  shame.  And  I 
pray,  who  have  been  in  our  land  all  the  while  the 
people  of  God  have  been  scuffling  ?  Those  that  have 
curiously  observed  every  uncomely  behaviour  among 
them,  and  told  all  the  world  of  it.  Such  as  have 
wit  and  malice  enough  to  make  use  of  it  for  their 
wicked  purposes.  They  stand  on  tip-toes  to  be  at 
work  ;  only  we  are  not  yet  quite  laid  up  and  dis- 
abled (by  the  soreness  of  those  our  wounds  which 
we  have  given  ourselves)  from  withstanding  their 
fury.  They  hope  it  will  come  to  that ;  and  then 
they  will  cure  us  of  our  own  wounds,  by  giving  one 
if  they  can  that  shall  go  deep  enough  to  the  heart 
of  our  life,  gospel,  and  all.  O  Christians,  shall 
Herod  and  Pilate  put  you  to  shame  ?  They  clapt 
up  a  peace  to  strengthen  their  hands  against  Christ ; 
and  will  not  you  unite  against  your  common  enemy? 
It  is  an  ill  time  for  mariners  to  be  fij^hting  when 
an  enemy  is  boring  a  hole  at  the  bottom  of  their 
ship,  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

6.  Are  offensive  to  God. 

(1230.)  God  makes  account,  that  He  brings  a 
heavy  judgment  upon  a  people  when  He  Himself 
leaves  them.  If  the  master  leaves  the  ship,  it  is 
near  sinking  indeed  ;  and  truly,  no  readier  way  to 


send  Ilim  going  than  by  strifes  among  brethren ; 
these  smoke  Him  out  of  ills  own  house. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

XIII.  ITS  DISCIPLINE. 

1.  Must  toe  impartial. 

(12^1.)  We  must  not  stand  in  fear  of  the  faces  of 
men,  though  they  be  never  so  great  and  mighty. 
The  censures  of  the  Church  must  not  be  like  the 
spider's  vveb  which  catches  flies  and  gnats,  whereas 
the  bigger  creatures  break  from  it.  They  must  be 
administered  indifferently,  without  respect  of  per- 
sons ;  otherwise  it  lays  open  a  gap  to  destroy  re- 
ligion, faith,  honesty,  justice,  and  equity,  and  makes 
a  way  to  all  wrong  and  all  impiety. 

This  reproves  such  as  dare  not  deal  with  great 
men,  rich  men,  and  mighty  men.  They  are  afraid 
to  touch  them,  lest  they  purchase  their  displeasure. 
These  are  like  to  fowlers,  that  pitch  not  the  net  to 
catch  kites  or  hawks  that  do  hurt,  but  for  such  as  do 
no  hurt.  They  suffer  great  men  to  do  what  they 
list,  and  see  them  not  :  they  let  them  alone,  and 
either  through  negligence  they  will  not,  or  through 
fear  they  dare  not,  control  them. 

— Attersol,  1618. 

2.  Importance  of  strictly  maintaining  It. 
(1232.)   When  nations  are  to  perish  in  their  sins, 

'Tis  in  the  Church  the  leprosy  begins  : 
The  priest,  whose  office  is,  with  zeal  sincere, 
To  watch  the  fountain  and  preserve  it  clear, 
Carelessly  nods  ami  sleeps  upon  the  brink, 
While  others  poison  what  the  flock  must  drink) 
Or,  waking  at  the  call  of  lust  alone. 
Infuses  lies  and  errors  of  his  own  : 
His  unsuspecting  sheep  believe  it  pure. 
And,  tainted  by  the  very  means  of  cure. 
Catch  from  each  other  a  contagious  spot, 
The  foul  forerunner  of  a  general  rot. 

— Cowper. 

XIV.  DUTIES  OF  ITS  MEMBERS  TOWARDS 
EACH  OTHER. 

(1233.)  After  proof  and  trial  made  of  their  fidelity, 
we  are  to  trust  our  brethren  without  any  further 
suspicion.  Not  to  try  before  we  trust  is  want  of 
wisdom,  not  to  trust  after  we  have  tried  is  want  of 
charity.  The  goldsmith  must  purify  the  dross  and 
ore  from  the  gold,  but  he  must  be  wary  lest  he  make 
waste  of  good  metal  if  over  anxious  in  too  often  re- 
fining. We  may  search  and  sound  the  sincerity  of 
our  brethren,  but  after  good  experience  made  of  their 
uprightness,  we  must  take  heed  lest  by  continual 
sifting  and  proving  them  we  offend  a  weak  Christian. 
Christ  tried  the  woman  of  Syrophoenicia,  first  with 
silence,  then  with  two  sharp  answers  ;  at  last  find- 
ing her  to  be  sound.  He  dismissed  her  with  grant- 
ing her  request  and  commending  of  her  faith. 
When  He  said  to  Peter  the  third  time,  "  Lovest  thou 
Me  ?  "  He  rested  satisfied  with  Peter's  answer,  and 
troubled  him  with  no  more  questions. 

— Fuller,    1 608- 1 66 1. 

(1234.)  Every  one  enteringa  church  has  a  right  to 
feel  that  he  is  going  into  a  higher  atmosphere  than 
that  in  which  he  has  been  accustomed  to  move. 
Every  one  has  a  right  to  feel  that  when  he  goes  into 
the  Church  of  Christ  he  goes  into  an  association,  a 
brotherhood,  where  the  princinle  of  gentleness  and 
kindness  is  carried  on  to  a  higher  degree  than  it  is 
outside  of  the  Church.     I  know  that  it  is  not  so. 


CHURCH.     THE 


C      221    ) 


CHURCH.     THE 


I  know  that  the  Church  is  keyed,  often,  very  low  in 
the  matter  of  sympathy.  I  know  that  too  frequently 
persons  who  go  into  the  Church  are  hke  those  who 
go  at  night  to  a  hotel.  Each  lodger  has  his  own 
room  and  calls  for  what  he  himself  needs,  and  does 
not  feel  bound  to  lake  care  of  any  of  the  other 
lodgers.  And  a  church,  frequently,  is  nothing  but  a 
spiritual  boarding-house,  where  the  members  are  not 
acquainted  with  each  other,  and  where  there  is  but 
very  little  sympathy.  Now,  every  church  should  be 
under  the  inspiration  of  such  large  sympathy  and 
benevolence  as  to  make  every  one  of  its  members 
the  object  of  kindly  thought  and  feeling.  There 
should  be  a  public  sentiment  and  an  atmosphere  of 
brotherhood  in  every  church.  — Beecher, 

(1235.)  The  help  which  he  receives  from  the 
Church  depends  upon  what  church  he  goes  into. 
Some  do  not  get  any  help  at  all  from  the  Church. 
Some  churches  are  like  those  Trust-Companies  where 
a  man  can  go  and  deposit  his  silver  and  gold  and 
bonds,  and  have  them  kept  so  securely  that  nobody 
can  take  them  away,  but  where  they  are  simply 
kept,  and  are  doing  nothing.  The  Church  should 
be  a  garden  where  men  are  taken  and  planted  as  in 
a  nursery  in  frames  or  in  parterres,  and  where  with 
good  soil  and  a  good  summer  they  will  grow  and 
blossom  and  bear  fruit.  Whether  you  grow  in  a 
church  will  depend  upon  what  church  you  get  into, 
and  upon  what  the  preaching  in  that  church  is,  and 
upon  what  the  social  influences  are  there.  In  this 
particular  Church  there  is  a  social  spirit.  Men  are 
looked  after,  and  followed  up,  and  comforted,  as  well 
as  instructed.  — Btechfr. 

(1236.)  A  Boston  minister  says  he  once  preached 
on  "The  Recognition  of  Friends  in  the  Future," 
and  was  told  after  service  by  a  hearer,  that  it  would 
be  more  to  the  point  to  preach  about  the  recognition 
of  friends  here,  as  he  had  been  in  the  church  twenty 
years  and  didn't  know  any  of  its  members. 

XV.    THE  PRIMITIVE  CHURCH. 
1.  The  contrast  between  It  and  the  pagan  world. 

(1237.)  Those  Christian  churches  which  sprang 
up  in  Antioch,  Philippi,  Corinth,  and  Rome,  stood 
absolutely  new  creations,  with  a  new  life,  new 
spirit,  and  new  manners,  in  the  midst  of  the  old  and 
decaying  society  of  paganism. 

So,  in  the  primeval  forest  where  thick  and  dark 
rises  the  growth  of  centuries,  shadowing  a  luxuriant 
but  useless  soil  over  which  roam  beasts  of  prey  or 
men  scarcely  less  savage,  you  may  meet  broad 
clearings  where  the  hand  of  labour  has  broken  up 
the  gloomy  vegetation,  and  let  in  upon  the  hazy 
earth  the  light  and  air  of  heaven.  Instead  of  brood- 
ing vapours,  the  breath  of  the  healthy  breezes  of  the 
open  sky.  Instead  of  rottenness  and  mould,  stretch 
wide  green  meadows,  where  the  even-footed  mowers 
sweep  down  the  fragrant  grass,  and  sloping  fields  of 
grain  wave  with  golden  promise.  Instead  of  the 
cry  of  beasts  prowling  for  their  prey,  or  the  whoop 
of  savages  thirsting  for  blood,  there  are  cheery 
voices  of  labour,  the  soft  laugh  of  children  hearty  at 
their  play,  the  morning  prayer  or  evening  psalm. 
Thus  amid  the  old  heathen  wastes  sprang  up  these 
little  centres  and  clearings  of  Christian  civilisation. 
That  ancient,  stately,  gloomy  growth  of  paganism, 
beneath  which  society  lay  in  a  luxurious  neglect 
delivered  over  to  base  and  beastly  uses,  fell  for  a 


space  around  each  Christian  church.  The  light  oJ 
heaven  came  in.  A  new,  humane,  and  Christ-like 
style  of  living  established  itself  in  the  heart  of  a 
crooked  and  perverse  nation.  A  new  social  order 
grew  upon  the  old  soil,  not  only  uncorrui)ted  by 
surrounding  iniquities,  but  powerful  to  penefrate 
and  purify  the  age.  The  contrast  between  the  rank 
and  miasmatic  verdure  of  the  dismal  swamp,  ami 
the  soft  beauty  of  an  English  landscape  garden,  is 
not  more  real  than  between  the  social  life  prevalent 
in  Corinth  or  Pompeii,  and  the  associations  which 
surrounded  the  Christian  home  of  Aquila  and 
Priscilla  and  the  church  that  was  in  their  house. 

Truly  the  early  disciples  of  Jesus  were  the  "salt 
of  the  earth" — "the  light  of  the  world." 

—  W.  H.  Goodrich. 

2.  Contrasts  between  the  primitive  Church  and 
our  own. 

(1238.)  The  unity  of  the  Church  is  exceedingly 
hindered  by  an  unworthy  privacy  and  retiredness  of 
most  Christians  that  live,  like  the  snail,  in  a  shell, 
and  look  but  little  abroad  into  the  world.  Some 
know  not  the  state  of  the  world,  or  of  the  Church, 
nor  much  care  to  know  it  ;  but  think  it  is  with  all 
the  world  as  it  is  with  us  in  England  ;  when  as  if 
they  knew  the  fewness  of  Christians,  the  huge  num- 
bers of  infidels,  the  corruptions  of  other  churches, 
in  comparison  of  ours,  it  would  surely  set  them 
lamenting  and  praying  that  the  kingdom  of  Chri.-.t 
might  come.  Yea,  many  ministers  are  of  so  base  a 
privacy  of  spirit,  that  they  look  little  further  than 
their  own  parishes,  and  think  if  all  be  well  there, 
all  is  well  everywhere  ;  and  seldom  inquire  how  it 
goes  with  the  Church  in  the  rest  of  the  world  :  nor 
will  scarcely  be  brought  to  associate  and  keep 
correspondence  with  their  brethren,  for  the  union 
and  communion  of  the  several  churches  and  the 
common  good  :  far  unlike  the  temper  of  Paul  and 
the  other  apostles  and  servants  of  Christ  in  those 
days.  They  have  not  a  care  of  all  the  churches. 
They  long  not  to  hear  of  their  welfare.  They  would 
think  it  much  to  travail  and  labour  for  it  the  thou- 
sandth part  so  much  as  they.  They  cannot  say, 
"who  is  weak,  and  I  am  not  weak,"  &c. 

— Baxter^  1615-1691. 

(1239.)  The  water  is  purest  at  its  fountain  among 
the  mountains  where  it  gushes  cold  from  the  rock, 
or  bubbles  up  at  the  mossy  spring  ;  the  nearer  to  its 
source,  the  clearer  is  the  stream.  By  every  mile  it 
rolls,  it  grows  in  volume  ;  till  the  streamlet  which 
a  child  could  leap,  fed  by  many  tributaries,  has 
swollen  into  a  broad  river,  on  whose  bosom,  as  it 
nears  the  sea,  fishermen  shoot  their  nets  and  the 
ships  of  nations  ride.  But  what  the  water  has 
acquired  in  depth  and  breadth,  it  has  lost  in  purity  ; 
growing  the  muddier  the  further  it  goes.  How 
like  to  what  happens  with  churches  —  which,  as 
they  become  larger,  usually  become  more  loose  in 
doctrine  and  more  lax  in  discipline.  With  an 
increase  of  numbers,  they  often  present  such  an 
increase  of  corruptions,  that  to  finti  the  purest  days 
of  many  a  sect,  we  must  turn  our  steps  backward  to 
the  period  of  its  rise. 

In  some  respects  this  is  true  even  of  the  Christian 
Church.  When  young  in  years,  and  small  in  numr 
bers,  and  poor  in  point  of  wealth,  what  love,  unity, 
purity,  and  peace,  dwelt  within  her  walls  !  Since 
then  how  have  these  walls  been  shaken  by  the 
violence  and  filled  with  the  din  of  controversies  ' 


CHURCH.     THE 


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CHURCH.     THE 


Here,  one  sect  carrying  on  fierce  war  against  an- 
otlier  ;  and  tliere  intestine  wars — two  parties  con- 
lending  within  the  same  body,  and  more  like  wolves 
than  sheep,  "worrying,  biting,  and  devouring" 
one  another.  Suppose  an  iniiabitant  of  another 
sphere  to  alight  on  this  one  !  He  sees  the  Church 
of  Christ  rent  into  jealous,  envious,  angry,  hostile 
factions  ;  and  finds  them,  instead  of  presenting  one 
bold  front  to  the  common  enemy,  burying  their 
swords  in  each  other's  bosoms.  How  difficult  it 
were  for  him  to  believe  that  they  were  subjects  of 
one  King  ;  had  a  common  faith,  a  common  cross,  a 
common  Bible,  a  common  hope,  a  common  heaven  ; 
and  that  the  choicest  title  of  their  Sovereign  was 
not  the  god  of  war,  but  the  Prince  of  Peace.  Once 
the  heathens  said,  "  See  how  these  Christians  love 
one  another !  "  They  say  it  no  more.  And  we  can- 
not contrast  what  the  Church  is  now,  and  has  been 
for  bygone  ages,  with  the  purity  and  peace  of  her 
early  days,  without  being  ready  to  cry,  "How  are 
the  mighty  fallen  ;  the  weapons  of  war  how  are  they 
perished  ! — How  is  the  gold  become  dim,  how  is 
the  most  fine  gold  changed  !  "  — GuthrU. 

(1240.)  What  a  picture  of  Christian  unity,  love, 

self-denial,  mutual  affection,  devotedness  to  each 
other's  welfare,  and  to  the  great  interests  of  Messiah's 
kingdom,  is  offered  to  our  admiration  in  the  opening 
chapters  of  the  Acts — in  that  community  of  goods 
which  sanguine  politicians  have  often  dreamed  of, 
but  Christians  only  have  ever  attained  to  !  In 
those  days  the  Church  of  Christ  was  like  one  large, 
loving  family,  to  whose  common  treasury  each 
member  brought  his  wealth  and  wages.  Nobody 
was  immensely  rich,  and  none  were  miserably  poor. 
Riches  and  rags,  splendour  and  squalidness,  did  not 
stand  in  incongruous  conjunction,  and  worship,  as 
I  have  seen  them,  under  the  same  roof,  or  sit  side 
by  side  at  the  same  communion-table.  As  all  the 
rivers  of  the  earth  pour  their  waters  into  one  sea, 
and  all  the  roots  of  a  tree  convey  their  nourishment 
to  one  stem,  and  all  the  veins  of  the  body  empty 
themselves  into  one  heart,  from  which  the  tide  of 
blood,  borne  along  the  bounding  arteries,  is  sent 
forth  again  to  be  distributed  to  every  member  accord- 
ing to  its  needs — so  was  it  in  primitive  times  with 
the  wealth  of  those  who  constituted  the  Church,  the 
body  of  Christ.  What  slates  have  been  in  name,  it 
was  in  fact — a  commonwealth  ;  and  the  only  one 
the  world  ever  saw.  The  people  lived  for  Christ  ; 
regarding  their  possessions  as  His,  not  their  own. 
They  judged  that  as  a  man  who  buys  land,  buys  all 
belonging  to  it— the  trees  that  grow  on  its  surface 
and  the  minerals  that  lie  in  its  bowels — so,  when 
Christ  bougilt  them  with  His  blood,  with  .them  He 
bought  all  that  was  theirs.  'I'hey  felt  that  if  Christ 
gave  His  life  for  the  poorest  saints,  they  could  not 
do  less  than  share  their  "means  and  substance" 
with  them  ;  and  so,  as  we  are  told — "They  who  be- 
lieved were  together,  and  had  all  things  in  common, 
and  sold  their  possessions  and  goods,  and  parted 
them  to  all  men,  as  every  man  had  need." 

There  was  no  command  laid  on  them  to  do  so  ; 
nor  does  any  command  lie  on  us  to  imitate  their 
example  in  this  matter.  Such  a  practice  would 
now  be  as  undesirable  as  it  is  impracticable.  Still, 
.though  their  circumstances  were  so  peculiar  as  to 
lead  them  to  adopt  a  peculiar  line  of  conduct,  how 
ought  their  conduct — the  spirit  of  their  example, 
and,  to  adduce  a  still  higher  authority,  how  ought 
the  example  of  Chriit,  who,  with  His  disciples,  had 


a  common  purse,  to  call  forth  our  charity  to  God'i 
poor  saints  ;  teaching  us  to  fill  their  scanty  cupi 
with  the  overflowings  of  our  own.         — Guthrie. 

XVI.    HER    DEPEtTDENCE  ON  DIVINE  AID. 

(1241.)  The  dependence  of  the  Church's  vitality 
upon  the  hourly  exercise  of  Christ's  offices  as  a  living 
Saviour  may  be  thus  illustrated.  Conceive  the 
wheels  of  nature  to  be  stopped,  the  sun  to  cease  to 
give  its  light,  the  earth  and  the  planets  to  roll  their 
courses,  and  the  great  elements  of  nature  to  be 
powerless  and  deprived  of  all  their  virtue.  The 
visible  creation  in  which  man  is  placed  would  first 
droop  and  languish  ;  her  exhausted  energies  would 
fail  her,  and  she  would  expire.  Life,  in  all  her 
creative  and  sustaining  power,  would  give  place,  and 
yield  up  her  dominion  to  the  reiL;n  of  universal 
death.  No  less  a  work  of  confusion  and  death 
would  ensue  in  the  Church  if  a  suspension  of  Christ's 
offices  were  to  take  place.  When  He  ascended  up 
on  high,  He  received  the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  and  He 
is  continually  pouring  it  out  as  the  Spiiit  of  life, 
animating  and  imparting  vitality  to  every  part  of 
His  Church.  Not  a  ray  of  light  can  shine  into  the 
heart  of  any  member  of  His  body  but  what  comes 
from  the  great  Prophet  of  His  Church.  Not  a  sinner 
can  start  forth  from  the  grave  of  spiritual  death 
without  Christ  is  there  to  give  him  light  and  life. 
Not  a  prayer  or  offering  of  whatever  kind  can  come 
up  with  acceptance  before  God  without  His  merits 
to  recommend,  and  the  incense  of  His  intercession 
to  purify  and  perfume  it  ;  while,  but  for  the  con- 
tinual exercise  of  His  kingly  oflSce,  by  virtue  of 
which  He  holds  the  keys  of  death  and  hell.  His 
Church  would  be  the  prey  of  her  spiritual  enemies, 
and  fall  before  the  powers  of  darkness  and  spiritual 
wickedness  in  high  places.  Let  all  these  offices  be 
suspended,  and  what  must  follow  ?  This  Church, 
which  is  now  radiant  with  light  and  life,  would 
instantly  be  in  darkness,  and  gasping  in  death.  The 
progress  of  gospel  light  would  be  no  more  ;  con- 
version ceases — the  Redeemer's  car,  travelling  in  the 
greatness  of  His  strength  to  the  uttermost  bounds 
of  the  earth,  is  suddenly  arrested  in  its  course.  In 
one  word,  behold  the  Church  extinct,  and  mankind 
again  falling  before  the  powers  of  darkness. 

—Salter, 

(1242.)  If  a  plot  of  ground  should  be  laid  out  for 
a  garden,  square  it  never  so  accurately,  let  it  have 
never  so  exact  a  figure,  bestow  upon  it  everything 
of  ornament  that  art  can  invent,  yet  if  nature  also 
do  not  do  its  part,  if  the  sun  never  shine  upon  it, 
if  no  showers  or  dews  ever  descend,  would  it  be, 
think  you,  a  pleasant  flourishing  garden  ?  We  have 
all  of  us  reason  to  have  done  expecting  much  from 
lifeless  outward  forms  ;  even  the  best  constitution 
imaginable,  while  a  spirit  of  life  from  above  breathes 
not,  despairs  that  that  will  ever  work  miracles,  or  do 
any  great  things  amongst  us.  — Salter. 

(1243.)  We  want  the  baptism  of  the  Spirit  upon 
us  if  we  are  to  be  as  a  Church  should  be,  or  do  as 
a  Church  of  God  should  do.  Learning  will  be 
powerless,  intellect  will  bp  powerless,  eloquence 
will  be  powerless,  yea  the  litiinistry  you  enjoy  will  bj 
powerless,  without  the  baptism  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 
Not  one  of  Jhese,  or  all  of  these,  will  form  a  bul> 
stitute,  or  take  the  place  of  the  baptizing  of  the  hea«t 
and  soul.     It  must  kindle  our  prayers  and  praises 


CHURCH.     THE 


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CHURCH.     THE 


asd  penetrate  our  affections,  and  dwell  in  our  hearts, 
and  vitalise  every  religious  eflort  for  God  and  man, 
or  everyching  will  be  in  vain.  This  is  the  power  we 
war.*..  Yonder  is  a  man  gazing  on  some  gigantic 
vessel.  He  is  lost  in  amazement  at  the  inventive 
power  represented  there  ;  he  looks  down  and  sees 
ail  those  polished  levers,  and  tries  to  count  all  those 
mammoth  wheels  which  are  made  to  revolve  there. 
He  goes  home  struck  with  wonder  at  the  power  of 
man  ;  and  yet  he  has  seen  no  power.  Nothing  he 
has  looked  at  represents  anything  of  power.  There 
must  be  put  into  the  machinery  a  power,  a  hidden 
power,  a  mighty  moving  power,  and  then  will  those 
wheels  revolve  majestically,  and  tlie  vessel  make  its 
way  through  the  mighty  waters.  He  who  made  the 
vessel  had  that  power  in  view  ;  everything  he  did 
was  with  a  view  to  the  coming  of  that  power,  or 
else  he  would  have  been  the  contempt  and  scorn  of 
all  scientific  men.  Is  it  so  in  what  men  are  doing? 
much  more  so  is  it  in  what  God  is  doing.  Without 
this  power  in  the  ministry  and  laity  of  this  Church, 
we  shall  never  be  able  to  say,  "I  am  full  of  power 
by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.'  — Fleming. 

XVII.  HER  TROUBLES  DIVINELY  SENT 
FOR  GOOD. 

(1244.)  The  husbandman  in  autumn  and  winter 
Is  pruning  of  his  trees,  and  boughs  and  branches 
are  scattered  up  and  down  all  the  parts  of  the 
orchard.  He  is  then  digging  up  the  earth,  and 
baring  the  roots  of  trees,  transplanting  some,  and 
setting  others  in  their  rooms,  and  doing  many  other 
works  which  make  the  garden  lie  rough  and  un- 
handsome ;  but  all  these  works  tend  to  the  greater 
beauty,  pleasure,  and  profit  in  the  garden  after- 
wards, in  the  spring  and  summer. 

This  similitude  shadows  out  unto  us  this  proposi- 
tion (which  is  cleared  by  Scripture)  ;  that  the 
commotions,  troubles,  and  confusions  in  the  Church 
of  God  will  end  in  the  settlement,  peace,  and  glory 
of  it.  — Austen^  1656. 

(1245.)  She  has  often  been  refined  by  the  most 
violent  persecutions  of  her  enemies.  She  has  not 
only  survived  the  flames  kindled  against  her,  but, 
as  refined  gold  comes  out  more  beautiful  from  the 
furnace,  left  her  dross  behind  her,  and  has  been 
wrought  into  a  more  beautiful  frame  by  the  hand  of 
her  great  artificer.  Like  the  sand  upon  the  sea- 
shore, she  has  not  only  broken  the  force  of  the  waves, 
but  been  assisted  by  them  to  discharge  her  filth, 
and  been  washed  more  clean  by  those  waves  that 
rushed  in  to  drown  her.  She  has  been  move  con- 
formed to  the  image  of  her  head  ;  and  made  fitter 
to  glorify  God  here,  and  to  enter  into  the  glory  of 
God  hereafter.  The  Church  is  to  "cast  forth  her 
roots  like  Lebanon"  (Hos.  xiv.  5).  The  cedar  by 
its  shakings  grows  up  more  in  beauty  as  well  as 
strength,  and  the  torch  by  its  knocks  burns  the 
clearer.  Though  the  number  of  her  children  might 
sometimes  decrease  through  fear,  yet  her  true  off- 
spring that  have  remained  have  increased  in  their 
teal,  courage,  and  love  to  God.  Apostates  them- 
selves have  proved  refiners  of  them  that  they  have 
deserted:  "And  some  of  them  of  understanding 
shall  fall  to  try  them,  and  to  purge,  and  make 
them  white"  (Dan.  xi-  IS).  The  corn  is  the  purer 
by  the  separation  of  the  clivifT ;  thus  has  she  grown 
purer  b)  ilames  and  sounder  by  battel  ies. 

— CfuiDUhk,  162&  1680, 


XVIII.    HER  SAFETY, 

(1246.)  If  the  Chnrch  be  a  burning  bush,  it  will 
not  be  consumed,  because  God  is  in  it.  As  it  is 
safe  in  the  fire,  so  also  in  the  water  ;  though  it  lie  a 
vessel,  as  that  wherein  the  disciples  were  sailing;  in 
a  rough  sea,  tossed  up  and  down  with  tempestuous 
winds  and  boisterous  waves,  nay,  filled  almost  with 
water  and  ready  to  sink,  yet  there  is  no  ft-ai, 
because  Christ  is  in  it  ;  for  though  He  seem  tc  sleep, 
He  is  waiting  only  for  a  fit  opportunity  to  manifest 
and  magnify  His  power,  yet  when  the  storm  comes 
He  will  be  sure  to  awake,  and  with  His  word  of 
command  to  cause  a  calm.  The  Church,  as  Jerome 
saith  of  Arcturus,  semper  versatur  ntiuijuam  mer- 
gilicr,  is  much  tossed,  but  never  drowned.  "  God 
is  in  the  midst  of  her,  she  shall  never  be  moved  ; 
He  shall  defend  her,  and  that  right  early." 

—  Svjinnock,  1673. 

(1247.)  As  for  the  trouble  thou  puttest  thyself  to 
concerning  the  cause  and  Church  of  Christ,  which 
thou  mayest  see  at  any  time  distressed  by  the  enemy, 
though  God  takes  thy  good-will  to  them  (from 
which  those  thy  fears  arise)  very  kindly,  yet  there 
is  no  need  of  tormenting  thyself  with  that  which  is 
sure  never  to  come  to  pass.  The  Ark  may  shakt, 
but  it  cannot  fall.  The  ship  of  the  Church  may  be 
tossed,  but  it  cannot  sink,  for  Christ  is  in  it,  and 
will  awake  time  enough  to  prevent  its  wreck. 
There  is  therefore  no  cause  for  us,  when  the  storm 
beateth  hardest  upon  it,  to  disturb  Him  as  once  the 
disciples  did  with  the  shrieks  and  outcries  of  our 
unbelief  as  if  all  were  lost.  Our  faith  is  more  in 
danger  of  sinking  at  such  a  time  than  the  cause 
and  Church  of  Christ  are.  They  are  both  by  the 
promise  set  out  of  the  reach  of  men  and  devils. 
The  Gospel  is  an  "  Everlasting  Gospel."  "  Heaven 
and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  not  one  iota  of  this 
shall  perish."  "The  Word  of  the  Lord  endureth 
for  ever,"  and  shall  be  alive  to  walk  over  all  its 
enemies'  graves,  yea  to  see  the  funeral  of  the  whole 
world.  — Gtirnall,  1617-1679. 

(1248.)  A  foundation  must  be  hidden  and  out  of 
sight  unto  all  those  that  outwardly  look  upon  the 
house.  They  cannot  perceive  it,  though  every  part 
of  the  house  does  rest  upon  it.  And  this  has  occa- 
sioned many  mistakes  in  the  world.  An  unwise 
man  coming  to  a  great  house,  seeing  the  antics  and 
pictures  [figures?]  stand  crouching  under  the 
windows  and  sides  of  the  house,  may  haply  think 
that  they  bear  up  the  weight  of  the  house,  when 
indeed  they  are  for  the  most  part  pargeted  posts. 
They  bear  not  the  house, — the  house  bears  them. 
By  their  bowing,  and  outward  appearance,  the 
man  thinks  the  burden  is  on  them,  and  supposes 
that  it  would  be  an  easy  thing  at  any  time  by 
taking  them  away  to  demolish  the  house  itself. 
But  when  he  sets  himself  to  work,  he  finds  these 
things  of  no  value  ;  there  is  a  foundation  in  the 
bottom  which  hears  up  the  whole  that  he  thought 
not  of; — against  that  he  may  waste  himself  until 
he  be  broken  in  pieces.  Men  looking  upon  the 
Church  do  find  that  it  is  a  fair  fabric  indeed,  but 
cannot  imagine  how  it  should  stand.  A  few  sup- 
porters it  seeniL-  :.-,•  have  in  the  world,  like  crouch- 
ing antics  unii.";!  li^e  windows,  that  make  some 
show  of  under-propping  it  ; — here  you  have  a  magis- 
trate, there  an  army,  or  so.  Think  the  men  of  tin 
world,  "  Can  we  out  remove  these  props,  the  whole 
would   quickly   topple   to    the   ground.'       N'ea,    sa 


CHURCH.     THE 


(    224    ) 


COMFORT. 


foolish  have  I  been  myself,  and  so  void  of  under- 
standing before  the  Lord,  as  to  take  a  view  of  some 
goodly  appearing  props  of  this  building,  and  to 
think,  "  How  shall  the  house  be  preserved,  if  these 
should  be  removed?" — they  looked  unto  me  like 
the  mariners  in  Paul's  ship,  without  whose  abode 
therein  they  could  not  be  saved, — when  lo  !  sud- 
denly, some  have  been  manifested  to  be  pargeted 
posts,  and  the  very  best  to  be  held  up  by  the  house, 
and  not  to  hold  it  up.  On  this  account  the  men  of 
the  world  think  it  no  great  matter  to  demolish  the 
5[)iritual  Church  of  Christ  to  the  ground  : — they 
encourage  one  another  to  the  work,  never  thinking 
of  the  foundation  that  lies  hidden,  against  which 
they  dash  themselves  all  to  pieces.  I  say,  then, 
Christ,  as  the  Foundation  of  this  house,  is  hidden  to 
the  men  of  the  world, — they  see  it  not,  they  believe 
it  not.  There  is  nothing  more  remote  from  their 
apprehension  that  Christ  should  be  at  the  bottom 
of  them  and  their  ways,  whom  they  so  much  despise. 
— Owen,  1616-1683. 

(1249.)  As  Noah's  ark,  notwithstanding  all  the 
unlikelihood  and  improbability  of  the  event,  was 
miraculously  preserved  in  the  midst  of  the  conflict- 
ing elements,  and  enabled  to  withstand  all  the 
violence  of  the  breaking  up  of  the  great  abyss,  and 
the  rushing  down  of  the  waters  of  the  firmament 
from  above,  with  all  the  terrific  accompaniments  of 
this  convulsion  of  nature,  during  a  period  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  days  ;  so  the  Ark  of  the  Church, 
by  the  same  sustaining  power,  has  hitherto  rode 
in  safety  through  the  stormy  deeps  and  over  the 
mountain  billows  of  a  deluge  of  persecution,  trouble, 
and  temptation,  issuing  from  the  abyss  of  hell, 
agitated  by  the  storms  and  tempests  which  have 
been  congregated  in  the  atmosphere  of  tliis  world 
by  "the  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  who  has 
directed  all  their  fury  to  accomplish  her  destruc- 
tion. Has  not  Jehovah  then,  in  controlling  and 
overruling  all  this  hellish  hate  and  fury  for  the 
accomplishment  of  His  wondrous  designs  in  the 
salvation  of  His  Church,  been  making  known  His 
"manifold  wisdom  of  the  principalities  and  powers 
in  heavenly  places  "  ?  And  will  not  that  grace,  and 
wisdom,  and  power,  which  have  hitherto  triumphed, 
still  secure  and  maintain  her  interests,  until,  guided 
through  the  ocean  of  time,  she  rests  on  the  moun- 
tains of  eternal  love,  where  there  shall  be  no  more 
sea,  nor  clouds,  nor  tempests,  to  disturb  the  serenity 
of  the  celestial  regions  of  purity  and  bliss?  (Matt. 
xvi.  18).  — Ewing. 

(1250.)  The  Church  of  God  has  often  been  in  a 
low,  languishing,  and,  to  all  human  appearance,  in  a 
desperate  condition  ;  yet  one  thing,  as  Solomon  says, 
is  set  against  another,  and  it  has  been  at  such  times 
that  His  people  have  realised  most  fully  the  comforts 
of  His  providence  and  gracious  presence.  These 
stars  shine  brightest  in  dark  winter  nights.  There 
was  a  time,  for  example,  when  the  Church  was 
reduced  to  the  small  number  of  eight  persons  ;  and 
these  eight  in  imminent  danger  of  perishing.  If 
one  plank  of  the  ark  had  started  ;  if  some  gigantic 
billow,  striking  broadside  on,  had  swept  her  against 
the  rugged  summit  of  a  mountain- top  lying  like  a 
reef  below  the  flood  ;  if  any  one  of  the  hundred 
accidents  that  are  daily  wrecking  other  ships  had 
happened  to  this  that  sailed  a  shoreless  sea  without 
crew,  or  helm,  or  helmsman,  to  so  low  a  pitch  was 
th«  Church  of  God  redr  "red,  that  the  wreck  c^  one 


ship  had  been  her  ruin — the  whole  race  of  men  had 

perished. 

It  is  astonishing  and  refreshing  to  look  back  on 
the  way  God  has  often  extricated  His  people  when 
they  seemed  hemmed  in  by  destruction  and  with- 
out a  chance  of  escape  ;  and  more  still,  lo  see  how 
Haman  swung  on  the  gallows  which  he  raised  for 
Mordecai  ;  how  the  persecutors  of  the  three  Hebrew 
children  were  consumed  in  the  flames  they  had 
kindled  for  them,  and  how  the  Red  Sea,  into  which 
the  Egyptians  would  have  driven  God's  people, 
became,  not  the  grave  of  the  oppressed,  but  of  theit 
oppressors.  Thus,  in  the  days  of  old,  God  made 
the  wrath  of  man  and  of  devils  also  to  praise  Him. 
He  does  so  still.  The  trials  and  temptations  to 
which  He  leaves  His  saints  exposed  shall  be  but  the 
storm  that  flashes,  and  thunders,  and  roars  through 
the  air,  to  leave  it  fresher  and  purer  than  before. 

— Guthrie. 

(1251.)  The  wars  and  conquests  of  kings,  th« 
ambitious  schemes  of  politicians,  have  all  been  over- 
ruled by  Him  who  maketh  the  very  wrath  of  man  to 
praise  Him,  for  the  wider  extension  and  the  more 
efficient  establishment  of  His  own  Church.  The 
very  colossal  power  of  the  Roman  Empire  itself  was 
made  subservient  to  the  process  by  which  it  was  to 
be  broken  up  :  and  the  efiicacy  of  its  laws  mani- 
fested in  favour  of  the  religion  to  which  it  was 
inveterately  and  specially  hostile.  Little  did  the 
Emperor  Titus  imagine  that,  while  laying  waste  the 
Jewish  kingdom,  he  was  raising  up  from  its  very 
ruins  a  kingdom  destined  speedily  to  overshadow 
and  overthrow  his  own  empire,  and  lay  his  proud 
religion  in  the  dust.  The  Roman  sword,  intent 
only  on  self-glorification  and  the  pride  of  conquest, 
was  wielded  by  the  Almighty  Arm  to  clear  the  way 
for  the  triumphant  march  of  Christianity  over  every 
nation  and  kingdom  ;  and  though  that  sword  was 
frequently  turned  against  the  Church,  and  wrought 
sad  havoc  among  its  members,  yet  each  pruning, 
each  shoot  that  it  cut  off",  became  a  separate  living 
vine,  extending  to  other  regions  the  blessings  of  the 
Gospel,  like  that  strange  American  plant  which 
has  been  lecently  introduced  into  our  rivers  and 
canals,  every  joint  and  fragment  of  which,  however 
minutely  cut,  becomes  an  independent  individual, 
thus  diffusing  the  plant  by  the  very  efforts  made  to 
extirpate  it.  And  in  this  way  the  Church  grew  and 
spread,  until  now  its  range  extends  from  sea  to  sea, 
and  from  the  river  even  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

— Macmillan. 


COMFORT. 
1.  Its  Bources. 

(1252.)  It  is  God's  presence  which  constitutes  the 
saint's  morning.  As  the  stars  may  impart  some 
light,  and  yet  the  brightness  of  all  combined  cannot 
form  the  light  of  day,  but  when  the  sun  ajjpears 
there  is  day  forthwith ;  so  God  may  make  some 
comfort  arise  to  a  soul  from  secondary  and  inferior 
means;  but  it  is  He  Himself  alone  who,  by  the 
shining  of  His  face  and  the  smiles  of  His  counte- 
nance, causes  morning. 

— Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

(1253.)  The  Christian's  comfort  increaseth  or 
wanes,  as  the  aspect  of  his  faith  is  to  the  power  of 
God.  Let  the  soul  question  that,  or  his  interest  in 
it,  and  his  joy  gusheth  out,  even  as  blood  out  of  a 


COMFORT. 


(    225     ) 


COMFORT. 


broken  vein.  It  is  true,  a  soul  may  scramble  to 
heaven  with  much  ado,  by  a  faith  of  recumbency, 
relying  on  God  as  able  to  save,  without  this  persua- 
sion of  its  interest  in  God ;  but  such  a  soul  goes 
with  a  scant  side-wind,  or  like  a  ship  whose  masts 
are  laid  by  the  board,  exposed  to  wind  and  weather, 
if  otliers  better  appointed  did  not  tow  it  along  with 
them.  Many  fears  like  waves  ever  and  anon  cover 
such  a  soul,  that  it  is  more  under  water  than  above  ; 
whereas  one  that  sees  itself  folded  in  the  arms  of 
Almighty  Power  ; — Oh,  how  such  a  soul  goes  mount- 
ing before  the  wind,  with  her  sails  filled  with  joy 
and  peace  I  Let  affliction  come,  storms  arise, 
this  blessed  soul  knows  wliere  it  shall  land  and  be 
welcome.  The  name  of  God  is  his  harbour,  where 
he  puts  in  as  boldly  as  a  man  steps  into  his  own 
house  when  taken  in  a  shower.  .  .  .  Do  you  not 
think  they  sleep  as  soundly  who  dwell  on  London 
Bridge,  as  they  who  live  at  Whitehall  or  Cheap- 
side,  knowing  the  waves  that  roar  under  them  can- 
not hurt  them  ?  Even  so  may  the  saints  rest  quietly 
over  the  floods  of  death  itself,  and  fear  no  ill. 

—  Guniall,  161 7-1679. 

S.  How  God  administers  It. 

(1254.)  The  second  light  which  God  vouchsafes 
His  people,  ordinarily  to  help  and  eke  out  their 
faith,  is  the  sight  and  comfort  of  their  own  graces, 
unto  which  so  many  promises  belong  ;  as  of  their 
love  to  His  people,  fear  of  His  name,  desire  to  obey 
Him.  So  that  often  when  the  sun  is  set,  yet  star- 
light appears ;  that  is,  though  that  other,  the  im- 
mediate presence  and  evidence  of  His  favour  shines 
not  on  the  soul,  yet  His  graces  therein  appear,  as 
tokens  of  His  love  ;  so  the  soul  knows  that  there  is 
a  sun  still  that  gives  light  to  these  stars,  though  it 
sees  it  not  ;  as  in  the  night  we  know  that  there  is 
a  sun  in  another  horizon,  because  the  stars  we  see 
have  their  light  from  it,  and  we  are  sure  that  it 
will  arise  again  to  iw.        — Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(1255.)  Remember  thou  dependest  on  God  for 
the  continuance  of  thy  comfort.  They  are  not  the 
smiles  thou  hadst  yesterday  can  make  thee  joyous 
to-day,  any  more  than  the  bread  thou  didst  then  eat 
can  make  thee  strong  without  more ;  thou  needest 
new  discoveries  for  new  comforts.  Let  God  hide 
His  face,  and  thou  wilt  soon  lose  the  sight  and 
forget  the  taste  of  what  thou  even  now  hadst. 

It  is  beyond  our  skill  or  power  to  preserve  those 
impressions  of  joy  and  comfortable  apprehensions 
of  God's  favour  on  our  spirit  which  sometimes  we 
find  ;  as  God's  presence  brings  those,  so  when  He 
go'-s  He  carries  them  away  with  Him,  as  the  setting 
sun  doth  the  day.  We  would  laugh  heartily  at  him, 
who,  when  the  sun  shines  in  at  his  window,  should 
think  by  shutting  that  to  imprison  the  sunbeams  in 
his  chamber ;  and  dost  thou  not  show  as  much 
folly,  who  thinkest  because  thou  now  hast  comfort, 
thou  therefore  shalt  never  be  in  darkness  of  spirit 
more? 

The  believer's  comfort  is  like  Israel's  manna  ;  it 
is  not  like  our  ordinary  bread  and  piovislon  we  buy 
at  market,  and  lock  up  in  our  cupboards  where  we 
can  go  to  it  when  we  will  :  no,  it  is  rained  as  that 
was  from  heaven.  Lideed,  God  provided  for  them 
after  this  sort  to  humble  them. — "Who  fed  thee 
in  the  wilderness  with  manna,  which  thy  fathers 
knew  not,  that  He  might  humble  thee."  It  was 
not  because  such  was  rrrean  food  that  God  is  said  to 
humble  them,  for  it  was  delicious   food,  therefore 


called  "  angels'  food  ; "  but  the  manner  of  the  dii* 
pensing  it  from  hand  to  mouth  every  day,  their 
portion  and  no  more,  so  that  God  kept  the  key  of 
their  cupboard,  and  they  stood  to  His  immediate 
allowance  ;  and  thus  God  communicates  our  spiritual 
comforts  for  the  same  end  to  humble  us. 

— Giiruall,  1617- 1679. 

(1256.)  God  will  keep  the  rich  store  of  consistent 
and  abiding  comforts  till  the  Great  Day.  When  all 
the  family  sliall  come  together,  He  may  pour  out  tlie 
fullness  of  His  hidden  treasures  on  them.  We  are 
now  in  the  morning  of  the  day,  the  feast  is  to  come  ; 
a  breakfast  must  serve  to  stay  the  stomach,  till  the 
King  of  saints  with  all  His  friends  sit  down 
together.  •^Himonds. 

3.  Exceeds  our  distresses. 

{1257.)  Our  comforts  vie  with  the  number  of  our 
sorrows,  and  win  the  game.  The  mercies  of  God 
passed  over  in  a  gross  sum  breed  no  admiration ; 
but  cast  up  the  particulars,  and  then  arithmetic  is 
too  dull  an  art  to  number  them.  As  many  dusts  as 
a  man's  hands  can  hold,  is  but  his  handful  of  so 
many  dusts  ;  but  tell  them  one  by  one,  and  they 
exceed  all  numeration.  It  was  but  a  crown  which 
King  Solomon  wore  ;  but  weigh  the  gold,  tell  the 
precious  stones,  value  the  richness  of  them,  and 
what  was  it  then?  — Adams,  1653. 

4.  Its  source  to  be  tested. 

(1258.)  Great  is  the  excellency,  transcendent  the 
comforts,  that  are  to  be  found  in  God's  promises  ; 
they  are  the  good  Christian's  Magna  Charta  for 
heaven,  the  only  assurance  that  he  hath  to  claim  by. 
There  is  no  comfort — no  true,  real,  virtual  comfort 
— l)ut  what  is  built  and  founded  upon  a  Scripture 
promise  ;  if  otlierwise,  it  is  presumption,  and  can- 
u^i  properly  be  called  true  comfort. 

—  Calamy,  1600- 1663. 

(1259.)  "Thy  comforts  delight  my  soul!"  In 
all  tlie  comforts  we  have,  it  is  good  to  consider 
from  whence  it  comes  ;  is  it  God's  comfort,  or  a 
fancy  of  our  own?  A  comfort  that  is  made  up  of 
our  fancies  is  like  a  spider's  web  that  is  weaved  out 
of  its  bowels,  and  is  gone  and  swept  away  with  the 
turn  of  a  besom.  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

6.  Why  It  Is  sometimes  withheld. 

{1260.)  As  little  children,  when  they  see  a  heap 
of  beautiful  roses  lying  upon  a  table,  and  their 
mother  puts  them  in  a  mortar,  and  therein  beats 
them  all  to  pieces:  the  children  cry  out  and  think 
the  mother  spoils  them,  though  s)ie  does  it  merely 
to  make  a  conserve  of  them,  that  they  miy  be  more 
useful  and  durable.  Thus  it  is  that  we  think  we 
have  comforts  like  beds  of  roses  ;  yet  when  God 
takes  them  from  us,  and  breaks  them  all  to  pieces, 
we  are  apt  to  conceive  tiiat  tliey  are  all  si)oiietl  and 
destroyed,  and  thai  we  are  utterly  undone  by  it  ; 
whereas  God  intends  it  to  work  for  our  greater 
benefit  and  advantage  (Rom.  viii.  28). 

— Spencer,  1658. 

(1261.)  According  to  the  secret  desigr  of  Hi« 
providence,  He  is  pleased  to  withhold  from  us  the 
milk  and  the  honey  of  consolation,  that,  by  weaning 
us  in  this  manner,  we  may  learn  to  feed  on  the 
more  dry  and  solid  bread  of  a  vigorous  devotion, 
exercised  under  the  trial  of  distaste  and  spiritual 
dryness.  —J^e  ^ales. 


COMFORT. 


(    226    ) 


COMFORT. 


6.  Is  not  the  measttre  of  grace. 

(1262.)  Sense  of  sin  may  be  often  great,  and 
more  felt  than  grace  ;  yet  not  to  be  more  than 
grace.  A  man  feels  the  ache  of  his  finger  more 
sensibly  than  the  health  of  his  whole  body  ;  yet  he 
knows  that  the  ache  of  a  finger  is  nothing  so  much 
as  tlie  health  of  the  whole  body.  The  sun  under 
the  clouds  is  still  a  sun  ;  the  fire  in  embers,  still 
fire ;  the  sap  is  shut  up  in  the  root,  and  confined 
thither  by  the  cold  of  winter,  that  it  cannot  show 
itself  in  production  of  leaves  and  fruits,  as  in  the 
spring,  yet  is  there  still  life  in  the  tree.  So  in  the 
distressed  heart,  during  the  storm  of  affliction,  there 
is  siill  some  hidden  grace,  some  spark  of  fire  in  the 
smoking  flax  which  the  Lord  Jesus  will  not  quench. 
Though  thou  be  wounded  with  God's  own  arrows, 
that  seem  to  drink  up  thy  blood  ;  although  tliy  own 
sins  be  presented  to  the  eye  of  thy  soul ;  though  the 
serpent  (to  increase  thy  terror)  put  forth  his  dismal 
countenance;  yet,  canst  thou  believe  ?  take  comfort, 
there  is  more  health  in  the  Seed  of  the  woman  than 
there  can  be  venom  in  the  head  of  the  serpent. 

— Adat?ts,  1653. 

(1263,)  Great  comforts  do,  indeed,  bear  witness 
to  the  truth  of  thy  grace,  but  not  to  the  degree  of  it  ; 
the  weak  child  is  oftener  in  the  lap  than  the  strong 
one.  — Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(1264.)  Take  heed  thou  thinkest  not  grace 
decays  because  thy  comfort  withdraws.  .  .  .  Did 
ever  faith  triumph  more  than  in  our  Saviour  crying 
"  My  God,  my  God  !  "  Here  faith  was  at  its 
meridian  when  it  was  midnight  in  respect  of  joy. 
Possibly  thou  comest  from  an  ordinance,  and 
bringest  not  home  with  thee  those  sheaves  of 
comfort  thou  used  to  do,  and  therefore  concluded, 
grace  acted  not  in  thee  as  formerly.  Truly,  if  thou 
hast  nothing  else  to  go  by,  thou  mayest  wrong  the 
grace  of  God  in  thee  exceedingly ;  because  thy 
comfort  is  extrinsical  to  thy  duty,  a  boon  which 
God  may  give  or  not,  yea,  doth  give  to  the  weak, 
and  deny  to  the  strong.  The  traveller  may  go  as 
fast,  and  ride  as  much  ground,  when  the  sun  doth 
not  shine  as  when  it  doth,  though  indeed  he  goes 
not  so  merrily  on  his  journey;  nay,  sometimes  he 
makes  the  more  haste,  the  warm  sun  makes  him 
jometimes  to  lie  down  and  loiter,  but  when  dark 
and  cold  he  puts  on  with  more  speed.  Some  graces 
thrive  best  (like  some  flowers)  in  the  shade,  such  as 
humility,  dependence  on  God,  &c. 

— Gumall,  16 1 7-1 679. 

(1265.)  Take  heed  thou  dost  not  mistake  and 
think  thy  grace  decays,  when  may  be  it  is  only  thy 
temptations  increase  and  not  thy  graces  decrease. 
If  you  should  hear  a  man  say,  because  he  cannot  to- 
day run  so  fast  when  a  hundredweight  is  on  his 
back,  as  he  could  yesterday  without  any  such  a 
burden,  that  therefore  he  was  grown  weaker,  you 
would  soon  tell  him  where  his  mistake  lies. 
Temptation  lies  not  in  the  same  heaviness  always 
upon  the  Christian's  shoulder.  Observe,  therefore, 
whether  Satan  is  not  more  than  oriiinaiy  let  loose 
to  assault  thee,  whether  thy  temptations  come  not 
with  more  force  and  violence  than  ever  ;  possibly, 
tliough  thou  dost  not  with  the  same  facility  over- 
come these,  as  thou  hast  done  less,  yet  grace  may 
act  stronger  in  conflicting  with  the  greater,  than  in 
overcoming  the  less.  The  same  ship  that  when 
lightly  ballasted  ani   favoured  witl>  the  wind  goes 


mounting,  at  another  time  deeply  laden  and  going 
against  wind  and  tide  may  move  with  a  slow  pace, 
and  yet  they  in  the  ship  take  more  pains  to  make 
it  sail  thus  than  they  did  when  it  went  faster. 

— Gurnall,  l6i7-l679b 

7.  Not  to  be  supremely  desired. 

(1266.)  He  is  not  a  good  subject  that  is  all  for 
what  he  can  get  of  his  prince,  but  never  thinki 
what  service  he  may  do  for  him.  Nor  he  the  true 
Christian,  whose  thoughts  dwell  more  on  his  own 
happiness  than  the  honour  of  his  God. 

—  Gurtiall,  161 7-1679, 

8.  Not  to  be  too  earnestly  craved. 

(1267.)  Suppose  two  men  in  your  work — one 
that  must  have  his  pay  presently,  his  wages 
presently,  yea,  before  he  has  done  his  work  :  the 
other  will  not  have  his  wages  till  his  work  be  all 
done  ;  and  if  you  offer  him  money,  "No,"  says  he, 
"I  will  stay  till  all  be  done,  and  receive  it  in  a 
lump  together."  Which  of  these  two  is  the  ablest 
man,  or  which  the  poorest  man  ?  Will  you  not 
say,  "  Surely,  he  that  cannot  stay  is  the  poorest, 
and  he  that  can  stay  longest  for  his  wages  is  the 
ablest  man  "  ?  So  it  is  here,  God  has  two  sorts  of 
servants  :  one  that  go  by  visions  and  manifestations 
of  love,  and  are  not  able  to  live  at  all  by  faith,  but 
must  have  sights,  and  visions,  and  manifestations 
every  day,  or  else  they  die,  and  murmur,  or 
complain.  And  others  say,  "Oh,  but  these  sights 
and  visions  are  for  heaven  ;  if  God  will  have  it  so, 
I  am  contented  to  stay  till  all  the  work  be  done." 
Which  of  these  two  is  the  poorest,  or  the  strongest? 
Labour  more  and  more  to  live  by  faith,  and  when 
you  are  in  desertion,  say,  "Whether  saved  or  not 
saved,  whether  hypocrite  or  not  hypocrite,  I  will 
stay,  I  will  wait  on  God,  and  let  Him  come  when 
He  pleases."  If  you  lay  yourself  at  Christ's  feet 
He  will  take  you  into  His  arms. 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

9.  Not  always  attained  at  the  outset  of  the 
Christian  life. 

(126S.)  Though  a  man  have  prayed  earnestly  and 
often,  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  wash  off  the  stain 
of  sin,  and  quiet  the  conscience.  As  after  a  storm 
on  the  sea,  though  the  tempest  be  gone,  yet  there  is 
not  by  and  by  a  calm,  there  will  be  a  rolling  and 
tossing  of  the  waves  up  and  down  a  long  while 
after  ;  so,  to  believe  that  God  will  hear  our  prayers, 
and  that  He  has  done  away  all  our  sins  out  of  His 
sight,  it  is  not  by  and  by  done ;  there  is  a  rolling 
and  a  stain  of  sin  that  will  toss  up  and  down  a 
long  time  after  our  prayers  are  done. 

— Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(1269.)  Few  Christians  do  come  to  know  either 
what  are  solid  grounds  of  comfort,  or  whether  they 
have  any  such  grounds  themselves  in  the  infancy  of 
Christianity.  But  as  an  infant  hath  life  before  he 
knoweth  it  ;  and  as  he  hath  misapprehensions  ot 
himself,  and  most  other  things  for  certain  years 
together ;  yet  it  will  not  follow  that,  therefore, 
he  hath  no  life  or  reason:  so  it  is  in  the  case  in 
hand.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

10.  How  it  Is  to  be  attained. 

(1270.)  If,  when  God  hath  given  you  assuranrie, 
or  strong  probabilities  of  your  sincerity,  you  will 
make  use  of  it  but  only  for  that  present  time,  you 


COMFORT. 


(     227     ) 


COMFORT. 


will  never  then  have  a  settled  peace  in  your  soul ; 
besides,  the  great  wrong  you  do  to  God,  by  necessi- 
tating Mini  to  be  so  often  renewing  such  discoveries, 
and  repeating  the  same  words  to  you  so  often 
ever.  If  your  cliild  offend  you,  would  you  have 
hi/n,  when  he  is  pardoned,  no  longer  to  believe  it 
than  you  are  telling  it  him  ?  Should  he  be  still 
asking  you  over  and  over  every  day,  "Father,  am 
I  forj^iven,  or  no  "  ?  Should  not  one  answer  serve 
his  turn  ?  Will  you  not  believe  that  your  money  is 
in  your  purse  or  chest  any  longer  than  you  are  loolciiig 
on  it  ?  Or  that  your  corn  is  growing  on  your  land, 
or  your  cattle  in  your  grounds,  any  longer  than  you 
are  looking  on  them  ?  By  this  course  a  rich  man 
should  have  no  more  content  than  a  beggar,  no 
longer  than  he  is  looking  on  his  money,  or  goods, 
or  land  ;  and  when  he  is  looking  on  one,  he  should 
again  lose  the  comfort  of  all  the  rest.  What  hath 
God  given  you  a  memory  for,  but  to  lay  up  former 
api^rehensions  and  discoveries,  and  experiences, 
and  make  use  of  them  on  all  meet  occasions  after- 
wards ?  L.et  me,  therefore,  persuade  you  to  this 
great  and  necessary  work.  When  God  hath  once 
resolved  your  doubts,  and  shown  you  the  truth  of 
your  faith,  love,  or  obedience,  write  it  down,  if 
you  can,  in  your  book  (as  1  have  advised  you  in  my 
"I'reatise  of  Rest"),  "Such  a  day,  upon  a  serious 
perusal  of  my  heart,  I  found  it  tlnis  and  thus  with 
myself."  Or,  at  least,  write  it  deep  in  your  memory  ; 
and  do  not  suffer  any  fancies,  or  fears,  or  light 
surmises  to  cause  you  to  question  this  again,  as  long 
as  you  fall  not  from  the  obedience  or  faith  wliich 
you  then  discQ.vered. 

Alas  !  man's  apprehension  is  a  most  mutable 
thing  !  If  you  leave  your  soul  open  to  every  new 
apprehension,  you  will  never  be  settled  ;  you  may 
think  two  contrary  things  of  yourself  in  an  hour. 
You  have  not  always  the  same  opportunity  for  right 
discerning,  nor  the  same  clea:  ness  of  apprehension, 
nor  the  same  outward  means  to  help  you,  nor  the 
same  inward  assistance  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  When 
you  have  these,  therefore  make  use  of  them,  and 
fix  your  wavering  soul,  and  take  your  question 
and  doubt  as  resolved,  and  do  not  tempt  God  by 
calling  Him  to  new  answers  again  and  again,  as  if 
He  had  given  you  no  answer  before. 

— Baxter ^  16 15-169 1. 

(1271.)  You  must  not  make  use  only  at  the  pre- 
sent of  your  experiences,  but  lay  them  up  for  the 
time  to  come.  Nor  must  you  tempt  God  so  far  as 
to  expect  new  experiences  upon  every  new  scruple 
or  doubt  of  yours,  as  the  Israelites  expected  new 
miracles  in  the  wilderness,  still  forgetting  the  old. 
If  a  scholar  should  in  his  studies  forget  all  that  he 
hath  read  and  learned,  and  all  the  resolutions  of  his 
doubts  which  in  study  he  hath  attained,  and  leave 
his  understanding  still  as  an  unwritten  paper,  as  a 
receptive  of  every  mutation  and  new  apprehension, 
ami  contrary  conceit,  as  if  he  had  never  studied  the 
point  before,  he  will  make  but  a  poor  proficiency, 
and  have  but  a  fluctiiated,  unsettled  brain.  A 
scliolar  should  make  all  the  studies  of  his  life  to 
compose  one  entire  image  of  truth  in  his  soul,  as  a 
painter  makes  every  line  he  draws  to  compose  one 
ennre  picture  of  man  ;  and  as  a  weaver  makes  every 
thread  to  com|iose  one  web  ;  so  should  you  make 
all  former  examinations,  discoveries,  evidences,  and 
experiences,  compose  one  full  discovery  of  your 
condition,  that  so  you  may  have  a  settled  peace  of 
soul ;  and  see  that  you  lie  both  ends  together,  and 


neither  look  on  your  present  troubled  state  without 
your  former,  lest  you  be  unthankful  and  unjustly 
discouraged;  nor  on  your  former  state  without  ob. 
servance  of  your  present  frame  of  heart  and  life, 
lest  you  deceive  yourself  or  grow  secure. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

{1272.)  Take  heed  of  foolish,  carnal,  hasty  ex- 
pectations of  comfort  from  the  bare  words  of  any 
man  ;  but  use  men's  advice  only  to  direct  you 
in  that  way,  where,  by  patience  and  faithfulness, 
you  may  meet  with  it  in  due  season  ! 

Nothing  is  more  usual  with  silly  souls,  than  to  go 
to  this  or  Ihat  excellent  minister,  whom  they  de- 
servedly admire  ;  and  to  look  that  with  an  hour  or 
two's  discourse  he  should  comfort  them,  and  set  all 
their  bones  in  joint ;  and  when  they  find  that  it  is 
not  done,  they  either  despair,  or  turn  to  the  next 
deceiver,  and  say,  "I  tried  the  best  of  them  :  and 
if  such  a  man  cannot  do  it,  none  of  them  can  do 
it."  But,  silly  soul,  do  physicians  use  to  charm 
men  into  health  ?  Wilt  thou  go  and  talk  an  hour 
with  the  ablest  physician,  and  say,  that  because  his 
talk  doth  not  cure  thee,  thou  wilt  never  go  to  a 
physician  more,  but  go  to  ignorant  people  that  will 
kill  thee?  The  work  of  a  minister  is  not  to  cure 
thee  always  immediately,  by  comfortable  words 
(What  words  can  cure  an  ignorant,  melancholy,  or 
incapable  soul  !)  ;  but  to  direct  thee  in  thy  duty, 
and  in  the  use  of  those  means,  which  if  thou  «ilt 
faithfully  and  patiently  practise,  thou  shah  certainly 
be  cured  in  due  time  :  if  thou  wilt  use  the  physic, 
diet,  and  exercise  which  thy  physician  doih  pre- 
scribe thee  ;  it  is  that  which  must  restore  thy  health 
and  comfort,  and  not  the  saying  over  a  few  words 
to  thee.  If  thou  lazily  look  that  other  mens  words 
or  prayers  should  cur<^  and  comfort  thee  without  thy 
own  endeavours,  thou  mayest  thank  thyself  when 
thou  art  deceived.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1273.)  You  must  not  go  to  a  minister  to  be 
cured  merely  by  good  words,  as  wizards  do  by 
charms  ;  and  so  think  that  all  is  well  wlun  he  hath 
spoken  comfortably  to  you.  But  you  must  go  foi 
directions  in  your  own  practice,  that  so  the  cure 
may  be  done  by  leisure  when  you  come  home. 
Truly,  most  even  of  the  godly  that  I  have  known 
do  go  to  a  minister  for  comfort,  as  silly  people  go 
to  a  physician  for  physic.  If  the  physician  could 
stroke  them  whole,  or  give  them  a  pennyworth  of 
some  pleasant  stuif  that  would  cure  all  in  an  hour, 
then  they  would  praise  him.  But,  alas  !  the  cure 
will  not  be  done.  —  i.  Without  cost  ; — Nor  2. 
without  time  and  patience  ; — Nor  3.  without  taking 
down  unpleasing  medicines ;  and  so  they  let  all 
alone.  So  you  come  to  a  minister  for  advice  and 
comfort,  and  you  look  that  his  words  should  com- 
fort you  before  he  leaves  you,  or  at  least,  some  short, 
small  direction  to  take  home  with  you.  But  he 
tells  you,  if  you  will  be  cured,  you  must  resolve 
against  that  disquieting  corruption  and  passion ; 
you  must  more  meekly  submit  to  reproof ;  you 
must  walk  more  watchfully  and  conscionably  with 
God  and  men  ;  and  then  you  must  not  give  ear  to 
the  tempter  ;  with  many  the  like.  He  gives  you  a 
bill  of  thirty  several  directions,  and  tells  you  you 
must  practise  all  these.  Oh,  this  seems  a  tedious 
course,  yuu  are  never  the  nearer  comfort  for  hearing 
these  ;  it  must  be  by  long  and  diligent  practising 
of  them.  Is  it  not  a  foolish  patii  nt  that  will  come 
home  from  the  physician,  and  say,  "  I  have  heard 


COMFORT. 


(    228    ) 


COMFORT. 


il\  that  he  said,  but  I  am  never  the  better "  ?  So 
you  say,  "I  have  heard  all  that  the  minister  said, 
and  I  have  never  the  more  comfort  "  But  have  you 
done  all  that  he  bid  you,  and  taken  all  the  medicines 
^hat  he  gave  you  ?  Alas,  the  cure  is  most  to  be 
done  by  yourself  (under  Christ)  when  you  come  home. 
The  minister  is  but  the  physician  to  direct  you  what 
course  to  take  for  the  cure.  And  then  as  silly 
people  run  from  one  physician  to  another,  hearing 
A'hat  all  can  say,  and  desirous  to  know  what  every 
man  thinks  of  them,  but  thoroughly  follow  the 
advice  of  none,  but  perhaps  take  one  medicine  from 
one  man,  and  one  from  another,  and  let  most  even 
of  those  lie  by  them  in  the  box,  and  so  perish  more 
certainly  than  if  they  never  meddled  with  any  at 
all ;  so  do  most  troubled  souls  hear  what  one  man 
saith,  and  what  another  saith,  and  seldom  thoroughly 
follow  the  advice  of  any  ;  but  when  one  man  s 
words  do  not  cure  them,  they  say,  "This  is  not  the 
man  tliat  God  hath  appointed  to  cure  me."  And 
to  another,  "And  that  is  not  the  man  ;"  when  they 
should  rather  say,  "This  is  not  the  way,"  than, 
"  This  is  not  the  man."  This  lazy  complaining  is 
not  it  that  will  do  the  work,  but  faithful  practising 
the  directions  given  you. 

— Baxter,  161 5- 169 1. 

(1274.)  Another  most  common,  unhappy  mis- 
carriage of  sad  Christians  lieth  here.  That  they 
will  rather  continue  complaining  and  self-tormenting, 
than  give  over  sinning,  so  far  as  they  might  give  it 
Nver  if  they  would.  I  beseech  you  in  the  name  of 
God,  to  know  and  consider  what  it  is  that  God 
requireth  of  you.  He  doth  not  desire  your  vexation 
but  reformation.  No  further  doth  He  desire  the 
trouble  of  your  mind,  than  as  it  tendeth  to  the 
avoiding  of  that  sin  which  is  the  cause  of  it.  God 
would  have  you  less  in  your  fears  and  troubles,  and 
more  in  your  obedience.  Obey  more,  and  disquiet 
your  mind  less.  Will  you  take  this  counsel  pre- 
sently, and  see  whether  it  will  not  do  you  more 
good  than  all  the  complaints  and  doublings  of  your 
whole  life  has  done.  Set  yourself  with  all  your 
might  against  your  pride,  worldliness,  and  sensu- 
ality, your  unpeaceableness  and  want  of  love  and 
tenderness  to  your  brethren  ;  and  whatever  other 
sin  your  conscience  is  acquainted  with.  I  pray  you 
tell  me  if  you  had  gravel  in  your  shoe,  in  your 
travel,  would  it  not  be  more  wisdom  to  sit  down 
and  take  off  your  shoe  and  cast  it  out,  than  to  stand 
still,  or  go  complaining,  and  tell  every  one  you 
meet  of  your  soreness?  If  you  have  a  thorn  in  your 
foot,  will  you  go  on  halting  and  lamenting?  or  will 
you  pull  it  out?  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1275.)  The  Syrophoenician  woman  gained  com- 
fort in  her  misery  by  thinking  great  thoughts  of 
Christ.  The  Master  had  talked  about  the  chil- 
drens  bread.  "Now,"  argued  she,  "since  Thou 
art  the  Master  of  the  table  of  grace,  I  know  that 
Thou  art  a  generous  housekeeper,  and  there  is  sure 
to  be  abundance  of  bread  on  Thy  table  :  there  will 
be  such  an  abundance  for  the  children  that  there 
will  be  crumbs  to  throw  on  tlie  Hour  for  the  dogs, 
and  the  children  will  fare  none  the  worse  because 
the  dogs  are  fed."  She  thought  Him  one  who  kept 
so  good  a  table  that  all  she  needed  would  only  be  u 
crumb  in  comparison.  Yet  remember  what  she 
wanted  was  to  have  the  devil  cast  out  of  her 
daughter.  It  was  a  very  great  thing  to  her,  but 
she  had  such  a  high  es'eem  of  Christ,  that  she  said. 


"  It   is   nothing  to   Him  ;  it   is  but  a  crumb  foi 

Christ  to  give."  This  is  the  royal  road  to  comfort. 
Great  thoughts  of  your  sin  alone  will  drive  you  to 
despair  ;  but  great  thoughts  of  Christ  will  pilot  you 
into  the  haven  of  peace.  — Spurgeon. 

11.  Various  consolations  for  feeble  and  fearful  . 
believers. 

(1276.)  Abel  oflTered  unto  God  the  firstlings  of  his 
flock,  and  God  had  respect  unto  Abel  and  his 
offering.  Though  the  earth  was  but  newly  cursed 
for  the  sin  of  man,  yet  God  accepts  the  first-fruits 
thereof,  well  knowing  there  were  no  such  things  in 
the  offerer's  power  to  perform,  but  that  which  He 
had  commanded  the  earth  to  yield.  So  shall  those 
mean  graces  that  are  in  us  be  accepted  of  God, 
though,  too,  too  much  they  savour  of  the  naughtiness 
of  our  nature.  And  why  so,  but  because  they  pro- 
ceed from  His  special  blessing,  and  are  the  work  of 
His  Spirit.  A  great  comfort  for  such  as  feel  in 
themselves  reluctances  and  spiritual  assaults,  by 
reason  of  the  corruptions  and  imperfections  that 
cleave  unto  the  best  things  they  do. 

— Leslie,  1627. 

{1277.)  A  living  member  is  not  burdensome  to 
the  body.  A  man's  arms  are  not  any  burden  to 
him,  though  otherwise  massy  and  weighty ;  bu* 
a  withered  arm,  or  a  limb  mortified,  hangeth  like  a 
lump  of  lead  on  it.  Thus,  so  long  as  sin  liveth  in 
the  soul,  unkilled  wholly,  and  unmortified  as  yel, 
so  long  our  corruption  is  nothing  at  all  cumbersome 
unto  us,  but  when  it  is  once  mortified  in  a  man,  it 
beginneth  to  grow  burdensome  unto  him,  and  to 
hang  like  a  lump  of  dead  flesh  on  his  soul,  and 
then  beginneth  the  poor  soul,  pestered  and  oppressed 
with  the  weight  of  it,  to  cry  out  with  the  apostle  : 
"O  wretched  man  that  I  am!  when  shall  I  be 
once  freed  from  this  body  of  sin  ?" 

—  Gataker,  1 574-1654. 

(1278.)  He  is  a  scholar  in  the  school  that  be- 
ginneth at  Christ's  cross-row,  and  he  is  entered 
into  the  college  that  readeth  but  Seton's  logic,  and 
he  is  a  member  of  the  family  that  was  bound 
apprentice  but  yesterday.  Thus,  if  thou  be  a 
penitent,  though  not  in  fulness  of  perfection ;  if 
thou  believe,  though  not  with  the  fullest  measure 
of  believing  ;  if  thou  obey,  though  not  in  the  highest 
degree  of  obedience  ;  be  comforted  in  thy  weak 
beginnings,  and  resolve  to  proceed,  and  know  that 
thou  art  already  entered  into  the  covenant  of  grace, 
and  shall  enjoy  that  which  Christ  hath  promised — 
freedom  from  damnation — "Thou  shall  never  see 
death."  — Spencer,  1658. 

(1279.)  As  a  man  doth  feel  a  pain  which  is  but  in 
the  top  of  his  finger  more  sensibly  than  the  health 
of  his  whole  body,  yet  the  health  of  the  body  is 
more  than  the  pain  of  a  finger  :  even  so  a  godly 
Christian  doth  moiefeel  the  flesh  than  the  spirit, 
yet  the  power  and  efficacy  of  the  spirit,  by  the 
virtue  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  such  that  it  is  able  to 
prevail  ordinarily  against  the  flesh,  and  therefore 
the  flesh  is  not  more  than  the  spirit.  And  as  men 
feel  corruption,  not  by  corruption,  but  by  grace  :  so, 
the  more  they  feel  their  inward  corruptions,  the 
more  grace  they  have.       — Cawdray,  1598-1664. 

(12S0.)  God  may  communicate  the  less  of  Hia 
assisting  strength,  that  He  may  show  the  more  oi 


COMFORT. 


(    229     ) 


COMFORT. 


His  A'jpporting  strength,  in  upholding  weak  grace. 
We  do  not  wonder  to  see  a  man  of  strong  constitu- 
tion that  eats  his  bread  heartily,  and  sleeps  soundly, 
litre  ;  but  for  a  crazy  body,  full  of  ails  and  infirmi- 
ties, to  be  so  patched  and  shored  up  by  the  physician's 
art  that  he  stands  to  old  age,  this  begets  some 
wonder  in  the  beholders.  It  may  be  thou  art  a 
poor  trembling  soul,  thy  faith  is  weak,  and  thy 
assaults  from  Satan  strong,  thy  corruptions  stirring 
and  active,  and  thy  mortifying  strength  little,  so 
that  in  thy  opinion  they  rather  gain  ground  on  thy 
grace,  than  give  ground  to  it,  ever  and  anon  thou 
art  ready  to  think,  thou  shall  be  cast  as  a  wreck 
upon  the  devil's  shore  :  and  yet  to  tins  day  thy 
grace  lives,  though  full  of  leaks  ;  now  is  it  not  worth 
the  stepping  aside  to  see  this  strange  sight  ?  A 
broken  ship  with  masts  and  hull  rent  and  torn,  thus 
towed  along  by  Almighty  Power,  through  an  angry 
sea,  and  armadoes  of  sins  and  devils,  safely  into  His 
harbour  !  To  see  a  poor  dilling  or  rush-candle  in 
the  face  of  the  boisterous  wind,  and  not  blown  out  ! 
in  a  word  to  see  a  weak  stripling  in  grace  held  up 
in  God's  arms  till  he  beats  the  devil  craven  !  This 
God  is  doing  in  upholding  thee.  Thou  art  one  rf 
those  babes  out  of  whose  mouth  God  is  perfecting 
His  praise,  by  ordaining  such  strength  for  thee  that 
thou,  a  babe  in  grace,  shall  yet  foil  a  giant  in  wrath 
and  power.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(128 1.)  There  may  be  truth  of  grace  where  there 
is  not  present  sense  of  that  truth.  Yea,  the  creature 
may  be  passionately  hunting  from  ordinance  to 
ordinance  to  get  that  sincerity  which  it  already 
hath  ;  as  sometimes  you  may  have  seen  one  seek 
very  earnestly  all  about  the  house  for  his  hat  when 
at  the  same  time  he  hath  it  on  his  head.  Well,  lay 
down  this  as  a  real  truth  in  thy  soul ;  I  may  be  up- 
right, though  at  present  I  am  not  able  to  see  it 
clearly.  This,  though  it  will  not  bring  in  a  full 
comfort,  yet  it  may  be  some  support  till  that  come  ; 
as  a  shore  to  thy  weak  house,  though  it  does  not 
mend  it,  yet  it  will  underprop  and  keep  it  standing 
till  the  Master-workman  comes,  the  Holy  Spirit, 
who  with  one  kind  word  to  thy  soul,  is  able  to  set 
thee  right  in  thy  own  thoughts,  and  make  thee  stand 
strong  on  the  promise,  the  only  true  basis  and 
foundation  of  solid  comfort.  Be  not  more  cruel  to 
thy  soul,  O  Christian,  than  thou  wouldst  to  thy 
friend's  (shall  I  say?)  yea,  thy  enemy  body.  Should 
one  thou  didst  not  much  love  lie  sick  in  thy  house, 
yea,  so  sick  that  if  you  should  ask  him  whether  he 
be  alive,  he  could  not  tell  you  (his  senses  and 
speech  being  both  at  present  gone),  would  you 
presently  lay  him  out  and  coffin  him  up  for  the 
grave,  because  you  cannot  have  it  from  his  own 
mouth  that  he  is  alive?  Surely  not.  Oh,  how  un- 
reasonable and  bloody  then  is  Satan,  who  would 
presently  have  thee  put  thyself  into  the  pit-hole  of 
despair,  because  thy  grace  is  not  so  strong  as  to 
speak  for  itself  at  present. 

— Gurnall^  1617-1679. 

(1282.)  The  infiniteness  of  God's  knowledge  is  a 
comfort  in  case  the  saints  have  not  so  clear  a  know- 
ledge of  themselves.  They  find  so  much  corrup- 
tion that  they  judge  they  have  no  grace.  "  If  it  be 
so,  why  am  I  thus?  If  I  have  grace,  why  is  my 
heart  in  so  dead  and  earthly  a  frame  ?  "  Oh,  remem- 
ber God  is  of  infinite  knowledge ;  He  can  spy 
grace  where  thou  canst  not  ;  He  can  see  grace  hid 
under  corijption  as  the  stars  may  be  hid  under  a 


cloud.  God  can  see  that  holiness  in  thee  which 
thou  canst  not  discern  in  thyself:  He  can  spy  the 
flower  of  grace  in  thee,  though  overtopped  with 
weeds.  "  Because  there  is  in  him  some  good  thing  " 
(i  Kings  xiv.  13).  God  sees  some  good  thing  in 
His  people,  when  they  can  see  no  good  in  them- 
selves; and  though  they  judge  themselves,  He  will 
give  them  an  absolution.  — iVatson,  1696. 

(1283.)  If  you  have  faith,  though  but  in  its 
infancy,  be  not  discouraged  ;  for, 

(i.)  A  little  faith  is  faith  as  a  spark  of  fire  is  fire. 

(2.)  A  weak  faith  may  lay  hold  on  a  strong 
Christ  :  a  weak  hand  can  tie  the  knot  in  marriage 
as  well  as  a  strong.  She,  in  the  Gospel,  who  but 
touched  Christ,  fetched  virtue  from  Him. 

(3.)  The  promises  are  not  made  to  strong  faith, 
but  to  true.  The  promise  doth  not  say.  He  who 
hath  a  giant  faith,  who  can  believe  God's  love 
through  a  frown,  who  can  rejoice  in  afHiction,  who 
can  work  wonders,  remove  mountains,  stop  the 
mouth  of  lions,  shall  be  saved  ;  but.  Whosoever 
believes,  be  his  faith  never  so  small.  A  reed  is  but 
weak  especially  when  it  is  bruised  ;  yet  the  promise 
is  made  to  it — "A  bruised  reed  will  He  not  bieak." 

(4.)  A  weak  faith  may  be  fruitful.  Weakest 
things  multiply  most.  The  vine  is  a  weak  plant, 
but  it  is  fruitful.  The  thief  on  the  cross,  who  wa"i 
newly  converted,  was  but  weak  in  grace  ;  but  how 
many  precious  clusters  grew  upon  that  tender 
p'ant  1 

(5.)  The  weakest  believer  is  a  member  of  Christ 
as  well  as  the  strongest ;  and  the  weakest  membei 
of  thf  body  mystically  shall  not  perish.  Christ  will 
cut  off  rotten  members,  but  not  weak  members. 
Therefore,  Christian,  be  not  discouraged  :  God 
who  would  have  us  receive  them  that  are  weak  in 
faith  (Rom.  xiv.  i)  will  not  Himself  refuse  them. 
—Watson^  1696. 

(1284.)  Amid  all  your  conscious  unworthiness, 
remember,  you  are  His  children.  The  soiled 
garments  of  earth  which  you  may  carry  to  the  very 
portals  of  glory  cannot  alter  a  Father's  feelings 
towards  you,  or  lead  Him  to  belie  or  forego  His 
promises.  If  there  be  joy  in  heaven  (and  that  joy 
deepest  in  the  Father  s  heart)  over  the  sinner  in  the 
hour  of  his  repentance ;  what  will  be  that  joy  in  the 
hour  of  his  glorification,  when,  stripped  of  his 
travel-worn,  sin-stained  raiment,  all  his  truant- 
wanderings,  and  estrangements,  and  backslidings 
at  an  end,  he  enters  the  threshold  of  the  paternal 
Home ! 

We  have  read  somewhere  a  story  in  real  life, 
regarding  a  long  missing  child,  the  heir  tci  vast 
estates.  The  tale  described  how  this  innocent 
liitle  one  had  been  decoyed  from  the  parental  roof, 
and  was  last  seen  when  a  tribe  of  gipsies  had  been 
prowling  about  the  neighbourhood  of  his  princely 
home.  Golden  bribes  had  a  hundred  times  been 
offered  for  his  restoration  ;  but  the  cruel  mystery 
remained  hopelessly  unsolved,  all  efforts  were  in 
vain  to  recover  the  valued  life.  Tlie  anguishetl 
parents,  seeing  the  pride  and  hope  of  their  house 
hold  wrenched  from  their  grasp,  abandoned  them- 
selves to  inconso'able  grief.  One  day,  as  the 
family  carriage  was,  at  a  little  distance,  hearing 
along  the  highway  these  :wo  saddened  hearts,  a 
gang  of  the  wandering  race  were  passing  by.  In 
their  midst,  with  a  heavy  burden  on  his  shoulders, 
and  attired  in  tatters,  an  eye  and  a  countenanci 


CONSCIENCE. 


(    230    ) 


CONSCIEA  CE. 


met  theirs  which  could  not  be  mistaken.  A  shriek 
of  mingled  terror  and  delight  was  heard  ;  the 
mother,  leaping  in  frantic  joy  from  her  seat,  had 
in  a  moment  that  aggregate  of  rags  and  squalor  in 
her  arms  ;  her  son  who  had  been  long  dead  was 
alive  again  ;  long  lost,  he  was  again  found.  What 
signified  to  her  these  years  of  degradation  !  It  was 
her  beloved  boy,  by  whose  cradle  she  had,  in  days 
gone  by,  sung  her  lullaby  and  weaved  visions  of 
fond  hope ;  and  though  the  golden  ringlets  were 
now  matted  with  filth,  the  tiny  hands  hardened 
and  begrimed  with  boyish  drudgery,  and  the  face 
browned  and  wealherbeaten  by  exposure  to  the  hot 
sun  by  day  and  the  cold,  dewy,  houseless  night ;  yet 
t/iere  he  was,  her  own,  her  only  one!  Yonder 
castle,  looking  forth  on  the  wide  demesne,  kept 
high  festal  holiday  that  evening.  Servants  were 
gathered,  and  menials  were  feasted,  and  the  fire- 
sides of  the  poor  were  made  brighter  and  happier 
by  the  recovery  of  the  wanderer. 

So  shall  it  be  with  the  children  of  the  heavenly 
kingdom  in  entering  the  heavenly  home.  What 
though,  to  the  last,  by  these  rags  and  tatters  of 
nature,  these  souls  begrimed  with  the  remains  of 
sin,  we  belie  our  lofty  birthright,  and  render  our- 
selves all  unworthy  of  so  glorious  an  inheritance  ; 
"doubtless  Thou  art  our  Father,  though  Abra- 
ham be  ignorant  of  us,  and  Israel  acknowledge  us 
not."  — Macdiiff. 

(1285.)  Do  not  be  troubled  because  you  have  not 
great  virtues.  God  made  a  million  spears  of  grass 
where  He  made  one  tree.  The  earth  is  fringed  and 
carpeted,  not  with  forests,  but  with  grasses.  Only 
have  enough  of  little  virtues  and  common  fidelities, 
and  you  need  not  mourn  because  you  are  neither  a 
hero  nor  a  saint.  — BeecJur. 


CONSCIENCE. 

I.    DEFINED. 

(1286.)  Conscience  is  a  Latin  word  (though  with 
an  English  termination),  and,  according  to  the  very 
notation  of  it,  imports  a  double  or  joint  knowledge; 
to  wit,  one  of  a  Divine  law  or  rule,  and  the  other 
of  a  man's  own  action:  and  so  is  properly  the  appli- 
cation of  a  general  law  to  a  particular  instance 
of  practice.  The  law  of  God,  for  example,  says, 
"Thou  shall  not  steal  ;  "  and  the  mind  of  man  tells 
him  that  the  taking  of  such  a  thing  from  a  person 
lawfully  possessed  of  it  is  stealing.  Whereupon  the 
conscience,  joining  the  knowledge  of  both  these 
together,  pronounces,  in  the  name  of  God,  that 
such  a  particular  action  ought  not  to  be  done. 
And  this  is  the  true  procedure  of  conscience,  always 
supposing  a  law  from  God,  before  it  pretends  to 
lay  any  obligation  upon  man.  Conscience  neither 
is  nor  ought  to  be  its  own  rule. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

(1287.)  As  science  means  knowledge,  conscience 
etymologically  means  self-knowledge.  ,  .  .  But 
the  English  word  implies  a  moral  standard  of 
action  in  the  mind,  as  well  as  a  consciousness  of 
our  own  actions.  .  .  .  Conscience  is  the  reason 
employed  about  questions  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
accompanied  with  the  sentiments  of  approbation 
and  condemnation.  — Ivhavell. 


(1288.)  Conscience  is  the  power  by  which  we 
discern,  judge,  and  feel,  respecting  human  actions. 
It  is  the  eye,  the  judge,  and  the  heart  of  man'l 
spiritual  being.  This  is  very  unphilosophical 
language,  but  it  is  nearer  the  mark  than  much  of 
the  verbiage  of  philosophers.  As  the  eye  of  the 
body  discerns  between  white  and  black,  so  the 
conscience  distinguishes  between  what  is  right  and 
what  is  wrong  in  human  conduct.  And  as  oui 
nerves  discriminate  between  heat  and  cold,  so  the 
conscience  feels  either  pain  or  pleasure,  according 
to  the  moral  qualities  it  discerns  in  the  actions 
which  it  contemplates.  — Tozer. 

(1289.)  "  What  is  conscience  ?  "  said  a  Svmday- 
school  teacher  one  day  to  the  little  flock  that 
gathered  around  to  learn  the  words  of  eternal  life. 
Several  of  the  children  answered,  one  saying  one 
thing,  and  another  another,  until  a  little  timid  child 
spoke  out,  "  It  is  Jesus  whispering  in  our  hearts," 

II.  IS  MORE  THAN  OPINION. 

(1290,)  Mere  opinion  or  persuasion  may  be  every 
whit  as  strong,  and  have  as  forcible  an  influence 
upon  a  man's  actions  as  conscience  itself.  But  then 
we  know,  strength  or  force  is  one  thing,  and 
authority  quite  another.  A  rogue  upon  the  high- 
way may  have  as  strong  an  arm,  and  take  off  a 
man's  head  as  cleverly  as  the  executioner.  But 
then  there  is  a  vast  disparity  in  the  two  actions, 
when  one  of  them  is  murder,  and  the  other  justice : 
nay,  and  our  Saviour  Himself  told  His  discijdes 
"  that  men  should  both  kill  them,  and  think  that  in 
so  doing  they  did  God  service."  So  that  here,  we 
see,  was  a  full  opinion  and  persuasion,  and  a  very 
zealous  one  too,  of  the  high  meritoriousness  of  what 
they  did  ;  but  still  there  was  no  law,  no  word  or 
command  of  God  to  ground  it  upon,  and  conse- 
quently it  was  not  conscience. 

— South,  1 633-1 716k 

III.  ITS   FUNCTIONS. 

1.  It  Is  designed  to  be  our  grulde  and  monltM 
througb  life. 

(129 1.)  Even  as  a  man  about  to  make  an  un- 
known journey  should  find  one  that  would  go  with 
him  and  show  him  the  way,  with  all  the  turnings 
thereof,  he  could  not  but  take  it  for  a  great  point  of 
courtesy  :  so,  likewise,  seeing  we  are  pilgrims  in 
this  world,  our  life  is  our  journey,  and  God  also 
hath  appointed  our  conscience  to  be  our  companion 
and  guide,  to  show  us  what  course  we  may  take 
and  what  we  may  not.  — Cawdiay,  1609. 

(1292.)  The  voice  of  God  Himself  speaks  in  the 
heart  of  men,  whether  they  understand  it  or  no ; 
and  by  secret  intimations  gives  the  sinner  a  fore- 
taste of  that  direful  cup  which  he  is  like  to  drink 
more  deeply  of  hereafter.       — South,  1633-1716. 

{1293.)  The  commandments  of  God  being  con- 
formable   to    the    dictates    of   right    reason,    u tin's 
judgment  condemns   him  when    he   violates  any  of 
them,  and  so  the  sinner  becomes  iiis  own  toj mentor, 
— South,  1633-1716. 

(1294.)  If  there  is  such  a  power,  what  is  its 
office  ?  It  would  seem  to  be  simply  this — to  ap- 
prove our  conduct,  when  we  do  what  we  beliroe  to 
be    right ;    and    to   censure   us,    when   we  commit 


CONSCIENCE. 


(    231     ) 


CONSCIENCE. 


whatever  ive  judge  to  be  wrong.  When  reason,  or 
religion,  or  education,  has  marked  the  distinction 
between  virtue  and  vice,  we  are  conscious  of  a 
pleasurable  feeling  when  we  practise  the  one,  and 
of  a  painful  sentiment  when  we  are  guilty  of  the 
other.  The  office  of  the  conscience  is  not  legisla- 
tive, but  judiciary  :  its  voice  is  either  laudative  or 
objurgatory,  rather  than  directive  or  imperative. 

— Crombie. 

2.  It  records  our  actions  now. 
(1295.)  Conscience  is  the  book  in  which  our  daily 
sins  are  written.  — Bernard,  1091-1153. 

(1296.)  As  a  notary  or  a  registrar  hath  always  the 
pen  in  his  hand,  to  note  and  record  whatsoever  is 
said  or  done,  who  also,  because  he  keeps  the  rolls 
and  "-ecords  of  the  court,  can  tell  what  hath  been 
said  and  done  many  hundred  years  past  :  even  so 
the  conscience  observes  and  takes  notice  of  all 
things  that  we  do,  and  inwardly  and  secretly  within 
the  heart  doth  tell  us  of  them  all. 

— Cawdray,  1 609. 

(1297.)  It  is  recorded  of  that  reverend  martyr. 
Bishop  Latimer,  that  he  took  especial  care  in  the 
placing  of  his  words  before  Bonner,  because  he 
heard  the  pen  working  in  the  chimney,  behind  the 
cloth,  setting  down  all  (it  may  be  more)  than  he 
said.  So  ought  we  circumspectly  to  look  to  all  our 
sayings  and  doings  ;  for  conscience,  as  a  scribe  or 
registrar,  sitting  in  the  closet  of  our  hearts,  with  pen 
in  hand,  makes  a  diurnal  of  all  our  ways,  sets  down 
the  time  when,  the  place  where,  the  manner  how 
things  were  performed,  and  that  so  clear  and  evi- 
dent, that  go  where  we  will,  do  what  we  can,  the 
characters  of  them  shall  never  be  cancelled  or  razed 
out,  till  God  appears  in  judgment. 

— Carpenter,  1 628. 

t.  It  will  witness  against  us  at  tlie  last. 

(1298.)  The  Lord  God  hath  set  it  as  His  deputy 
in  the  breast  of  man,  which,  though  it  be  oftentime 
a  neuter  when  the  act  is  doing  and  while  sin  is  a 
committing,  yet  afterwards  it  will  prove  a  friend 
and  faithful  witness  for  the  Lord,  but  an  adversary 
against  man.  Oh,  that  the  wicked  would  think  of 
this,  who  sin  in  hope  and  secrecy !  Why,  who 
sees  them,  who  can  witness  anything  against  them, 
who  can  condemn  them  for  such  and  such  an  action  ? 
Alas,  poor  soul  !  there  is  a  conscience  within  thee 
that  sees  thee,  and  will  condemn  thee ;  thyself 
shall  pass  judgment  against  thyself.  Be  watchful, 
therefore,  and  ever  remember  conscience.  Beware 
Df  hypocrisy  and  secret  sins  ;  for,  though  thou  canst 
hide  them  from  men  and  devils,  yet  not  from  it. 
—Rogers,  1 595-1660. 

IV.  HOW  FAR  ITS  DECISIONS  ARE  A  UTHO- 
RITA  TIVE. 

(1299.)  The  allegation  or  plea  of  conscience 
ought  never  to  be  admitted  barely  for  itself;  for 
when  a  thing  obliges  only  by  a  borrowed  authority, 
it  is  ridiculous  to  allege  it  for  its  own.  Take  a 
lieutenant,  a  commissioner,  or  ambassador  of  any 
prince  ;  and,  so  far  as  he  represents  his  prince,  all 
that  he  does  or  declares  under  that  capacity  has  the 
same  force  and  validity  as  if  actually  done  or 
declared  by  the  prince  himself  in  person.  But  then 
how  far  does  this  reach?  Why,  just  sc  £ar  as  he 
ke  eps  close  to  his  instructions. 


In  like  manner,  every  dictate  of  this  vicegerent 
of  God,  where  it  has  a  Divine  word  or  precept  to 
back  it,  carries  a  Divine  authority  with  it.  But  il 
no  such  word  can  be  produced,  it  may  indeed  be  a 
strong  opinion  or  persuasion,  but  it  is  not  conscience 
— Soitth,  1633-1716. 

V.    NOT  Ay  INFALLIBLE  GUIDE. 

(1300.)  There  is  no  duty,  but  men  may  doubt 
and  scruple  the  doing  of  it,  pretending  that  their 
consciences  are  not  satisfied  that  it  is  a  duty,  or 
ought  to  be  done.  Nor  is  there  any  action  almost 
so  wicked  and  unjust,  but  they  may  pretend  that 
their  consciences  either  prompt  to  it  as  necessary, 
or  allow  them  in  it  as  lawful.  As  there  was  one, 
in  the  late  blessed  times  of  rebellion  and  reforma- 
tion, who  murdered  his  own  mother  for  kneeling  at 
the  sacrament,  alleging  that  it  was  idolatry,  and 
that  his  conscience  told  him  it  was  his  duty  to 
destroy  idolaters.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(1301.)  Though  natural  conscience  ought  to  be 
listened  to,  yet  it  is  revelation  alone  that  is  to  be 
relied  upon  ;  as  we  may  observe  in  the  works  of 
art,  a  judicious  artist  will  indeed  use  his  eye,  but 
he  will  trust  only  to  his  rule. 

— South,  1633-1 7 16. 

(1302.)  Men  get  embarrassed  by  the  common 
cases  of  a  misguided  conscience ;  but  a  compass 
may  be  out  of  order  as  well  as  a  conscience,  and 
the  needle  may  point  due  south  if  you  hold  a  power- 
ful magnet  in  that  direction.  Still  the  compass, 
generally  speaking,  is  a  true  and  sure  guide,  and  so 
is  the  conscience  ;  and  you  can  trace  the  deranging 
influence  on  the  latter  quite  as  surely  as  on  the 
former.  — Arnold,  1795-1842. 

(1303.)  Conscience,  as  an  expression  of  the  law 
or  will  and  mind  of  God,  is  not  now  to  be  implicitly 
depended  on.  It  is  not  infallible.  What  was  true 
to  its  office  in  Eden,  has  been  deranged  and  shat- 
tered by  the  Fall  ;  and  now  lies,  as  I  have  seen  a 
sun-dial  in  the  neglected  garden  of  an  old  desolate 
ruin,  thrown  from  its  pedestal,  prostrate  on  the 
ground,  and  covered  by  tall  rank  weeds.  So  far 
from  being  since  that  fatal  event  an  infallible  direc- 
tory of  duty,  conscience  has  often  lent  its  sanction 
to  the  grossest  errors,  and  prompted  .to  the  greatest 
crimes.  Did  not  Saul  of  Tarsus,  for  instance,  hale 
men  and  women  to  prison  ;  compel  them  to  blas- 
pheme ;  and  imbrue  his  hands  in  saintly  blood, 
while  conscience  approved  the  deed — he  judging 
the  while  that  he  did  God  service  ?  What  wild  and 
profane  imaginations  has  it  accepted  as  the  oracles 
of  God  !  and  as  if  fiends  had  taken  possession  of  a 
God-deserted  shrine,  have  not  the  foulest  crimes,  as 
well  as  the  most  shocking  cruelties,  been  perpetrated 
in  its  name?  Read  the  Book  of  Martyrs,  read  the 
sufferings  of  our  own  forefathers ;  and  under  the 
cowl  of  a  shaven  monk,  or  the  trappings  of  a 
haughty  churchman,  you  shall  seeconscience  persecut- 
ing the  saints  of  God,  and  dragging  even  tender 
women  and  children  to  the  bloody  scaffold  or  the 
burning  stake.  With  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  or 
flashing  fire,  we  close  the  painful  record,  to  apply 
to  Conscience  the  words  addressed  to  Liberty  by 
the  French  heroine,  when  passing  its  statue,  she 
rose  in  the  cart  that  bore  her  to  the  guillotine,  and 
throwing  up  her  arms,  exclaimed,  "O  Liberty, 
what  crimes  have  been  done  in  thy  name  1 "     And 


CONSCIENCE. 


(     232    ) 


CONSCIENCE. 


what  crimes  in  thine,  O  Conscience !  deeds  from 
which  even  humanity  shrinks  ;  against  which  re- 
ligion lifts  her  loudest  protest ;  and  which  fur- 
nish the  best  explanation  of  these  awful  words,  "  If 
the  light  that  is  in  you  be  darkness,  how  great  is 
that  darkness  !  " 

So  far  as  doctrines  and  duties  are  concerned,  not 
conscience,  but  the  revealed  Word  of  God,  is  our 
one  only  sure  and  safe  directory.  — Guthrie. 

( 1 304. )  Conscience  has  been  compared  t6  a  clock, 
and  the  law  of  God  to  the  sun.  The  clock  is  right 
only  when  it  keeps  time  with  the  sun.  And  so  it  is 
with  the  conscience.  It  is  a  safe  guide  only  when 
it  is  directed  by  the  commandment  of  the  Lord. 
— y.  I^y.  Richardson. 

(1305.)  Conscience  without  a  divine  light,  is  like 
a  dial  without  the  sun  ;  a  shade,  a  blank,  a  useless 
instrument. 

(1306.)  There  is  a  popular  notion  that  in  the 
construction  of  the  human  mind  God  infixed  a 
faculty  or  organ  which  is  the  judge  of  what  is  right 
and  what  is  wrong  ;  and  that  it  is  inspired  in  some 
low  degree,  so  that  it  is  an  authoritative  judge. 
Conscience  has  therefore  received  any  number  of 
names,  almost  all  of  which  are  regal.  Sometimes 
it  is  called  tlu  Imv  of  the  soul ;  sometimes  the  light 
of  the  moral  nature  ;  sometimes  the  vicegerent  of 
God;  and  sometimes  the  revcaler  of  truth.  It  is 
supposed  to  be  a  voice  of  the  Divine.  For  all 
feelings,  when  they  exist  in  a  large  nature,  and 
under  a  very  high  state  of  excitement,  are  addicted  to 
producing  impressions  either  of  sense  or  of  sight. 
That  is  to  say,  a  very  high  degree  of  excitement 
causes  the  nervous  system  to  scintillate,  as  it  were. 
Men  have,  therefore,  an  impression  that  the  con- 
science is  to  a  man's  soul  very  much  what  the  head- 
light is  to  a  locomotive — a  strong  light  with  a  re- 
flector ;  and  that  it  throws  a  beam  right  ahead  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  lifting  the  track  up  clearly 
into  the  engineer's  sight,  so  that  he  may  see  the 
obstructions,  or  the  track,  as  the  case  may  be. 

The  conscience  is  no  such  thing.  It  no  more 
determines  what  is  right  than  the  principle  of  taste 
determines  what  is  beauty,  or  than  the  desire  of  ac- 
quiring property  determines  what  would  be  success- 
ful in  business. 

What  we  ca'll  conscience  or  moral  sense  is  a  com- 
plex organisation.  It  is  the  sentiment  of  consci- 
ence harmoniously  educated  and  co-operating  with 
a  man's  reason.  It  is,  therefore,  the  ordinary  think- 
ing mind  acting  in  reference  to  certain  spheres  of 
things  in  consonance  with  the  emotion  of  conscience, 
which  is  the  emotion  tiiat  inspires  pain  or  pleasure 
in  view  of  things  which  are  supposed  to  be  right  or 
wrong.  And  conscience  is  so  blind  that  if  you 
think  a  thing  to  be  wrong  which  is  as  right  as  the 
throne  of  God,  you  will  feel  bad  in  the  commission 
of  it.  And  if  you  think  a  thing  to  be  right  which 
is  as  wrong  as  wrong  can  be,  that  conviction  being 
strong  in  you,  conscience  will  go  on  that  side. 
Conscience  has  no  interpreting  power  except  indi- 
rectly. It  is  the  reason  that  interprets.  Conscience 
follows  with  its  sanction,  and  stamps  the  decisions 
of  reason  with  pleasure  or  with  pain,  with  approba- 
tion or  with  disapprobation,  when  they  pertain  to 
moral  conduct.  — Beecher. 

(1307.)  I  do  not  mean  that  conscience  is  a  Divine 
interpreter ;  for  I  do  a«^t  believe  there  is  anj  «uch 


conscience  as  that.  I  believe  that  conscience  is  pre- 
cisely like  any  other  emotion.  It  determines  what 
is  right  and  wrong  by  what  the  understanding  says 
is  right  or  wrong.  Conscience  is  an  emotion  thai 
acts  concurrently  with  intellect,  and  then  givei 
force  to  that  which  the  intellect  judges  to  be  right 
or  wrong.  And  it  gives  pleasure  or  pain,  according 
to  the  nature  of  that  which  is  selected  as  right  or 
wrong. 

This  sentiment  of  conscience,  acting  concurrently 
with  the  understanding,  belongs  to  the  whole 
human  family.  Where  men  believe  in  killing  their 
fathers  and  mothers,  and  where  they  believe  in  kill- 
ing their  new-born  children,  offering  them  up  to  the 
Ganges  or  to  crocodiles,  they  have  a  moral  sense 
certainly.  I  do  not  undertake  to  say  that  it  does 
not  act  according  to  a  grossly  imperfect  standard  ; 
I  do  not  undertake  to  say  that  it  is  exercised  accord- 
ing to  the  best  light  ;  but  when  they  do  otfer  their 
parents,  their  children,  or  themselves  up  to  destruc- 
tion, they  think  it  is  right  ;  though  their  under- 
standing is  darkened,  and  they  are  misguided. 

If  you  erect  a  false  light  on  the  shore,  and  the 
pilot  steers  right  towards  it,  and  wrecks  his  vessel, 
he  thinks  he  is  right.  He  does  not  make  ship- 
wreck because  he  intends  to,  but  because  the  false 
light  is  erected  on  the  shore.  Men  steer  for  such 
lights  as  they  have ;  and  if  those  lights  are  false, 
they  will  suffer  shipwreck.  Their  intention  is 
generally  to  go  by  the  best  light  they  have. 

— Beecher, 

VI.  NEVERTHELESS  MUST  BE  STRICTLY 
HEEDED. 

(1308.)  Let  a  man  carefully  attend  to  the  voice  of 
his  reason,  and  all  the  dictates  of  natural  morality, 
so  as  by  no  means  to  do  anything  contrary  to  them. 
For  though  reason  is  not  to  be  relied  upon  as  a 
guide  universally  sufficient  to  direct  us  what  to  do, 
yet  it  is  generally  to  be  relied  upon  and  obeyed, 
where  it  tells  us  what  we  are  not  to  do.  It  is  in- 
deed but  a  weak  and  diminutive  light,  compared  to 
revelation  ;  but  it  ought  to  be  no  disparagement  to 
a  star,  that  it  is  not  a  sun.  Nevertheless,  as  we?> 
and  as  small  as  it  is,  it  is  a  light  always  at  hand, 
and  though  enclosed,  as  it  were,  in  a  dark  lantern, 
may  yet  be  of  a  singular  use  to  prevent  many  a  foul 
step  and  to  keep  us  from  many  a  dangerous  Wl. 
And  every  man  brings  such  a  degree  of  this  light 
into  the  world  with  him,  that  though  it  cannot  bring 
him  to  heaven,  yet  if  he  be  true  to  it,  it  will  carry 
him  a  great  way  ;  indeed  so  far,  that  if  he  follows 
it  faithfully,  I  doubt  not  but  he  shall  meet  with 
another  light,  which  shall  carry  him  quite  through. 
— South,  1 633-1 7 16. 

(1309.)  Ought  not  the  light  of  reason  to  be  lookol 
upon  by  us  as  a  rich  and  a  noble  talent,  and  such  an 
one  as  we  must  account  to  God  for  ;  for  it  is  certainly 
for  Him.  It  is  a  ray  of  Divinity  darted  into  the 
soul.  "It  is  the  candle  of  the  Lord,"  as  Solcmon 
calls  it  ;  and  God  never  lights  us  up  a  candle  eithe! 
to  put  out  or  to  sleep  by.  If  it  be  made  conscious 
of  a  work  of  darkness,  it  will  not  fail  to  discover 
and  reprove  it  ;  and  therefore  the  checks  of  it  are  to 
be  revered,  as  the  echo  of  a  voice  from  heaven  ;  for 
whatsoever  conscience  binds  here  on  earth,  will  be 
certainly  bound  there  too ;  and  it  were  a  great 
vanity  to  hope  or  imagine,  that  either  law  or  gospel 
will  absolve  what  natural  conscience  condemns. 
— South,  1633-1716. 


CONSCIENCE. 


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CONSCIENCE. 


(1310.)  The  sinner's  conscience  is  the  best  exposi- 
tor of  the  mind  of  God  under  any  judgment  or 
affliction.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(13 1 1.)  In  the  commission  of  evil,  fear  no  man 
so  much  as  thyself:  another  is  but  one  witness 
against  thee ;  thou  art  a  thousand  ;  another  thou 
mayest  avoid  ;  thyself  thou  canst  not.  Wickedness 
is  its  own  punishment.         — Quai-les,  1 592-1644. 

(1312.)  Man  without  a  conscience  is  a  machine 
without  a  regulator ;  sometimes  too  fast,  sometimes 
too  slow,  and  seldom  right. 

VII.     THE  DANGER  OF  NEGLECTING  IT. 

(1313.)  Conscience  is  a  check  to  beginners  in  sin, 
reclaiming  them  from  it  and  rating  them  for  it ;  but 
this  in  long-standers  becometh  useless,  either  failing 
to  discharge  its  office,  or  assaying  it  to  no  purpose  : 
having  often  been  slighted,  it  will  be  weary  of  chid- 
ing ;  or,  if  it  be  not  wholly  dumb,  we  shall  be  deaf 
to  its  reproof:  as  those  who  live  by  cataracts  or 
downfalls  of  water,  are,  by  continual  noise,  so 
deafened  as  not  to  hear  or  mind  it  ;  so  shall  we  in 
time  grow  senseless,  not  regarding  the  loudest  peals 
and  rattlings  of  our  conscience. 

— Bartow,  1630-1677. 

(13 14.)  No  man  ever  yet  offended  his  own  con- 
science but  first  or  last  it  was  revenged  upon  him 
for  it.  So  that  it  will  concern  a  man  to  treat  this 
great  principle  awfully  and  warily  ;  by  still  observ- 
ing what  it  commands,  but  especially  what  it  for- 
bids ;  and  if  he  would  have  it  always  a  faithful  and 
sincere  monitor  to  him,  let  him  be  sure  never  to 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  it ;  for  not  to  hear  it  is  the  way  to 
silence  it.  Let  him  strictly  observe  the  first  stir- 
rings and  intimations — the  first  hints  and  whispers 
of  good  and  evil,  that  pass  in  his  heart  ;  and  this 
will  keep  conscience  so  quick  and  vigilant,  and 
ready  to  give  a  man  true  alarms  upon  the  least 
approach  of  his  spiritual  enemy,  that  he  shall  be 
hardly  capable  of  great  surprise. 

On  tlie  contrary,  if  a  man  accustoms  himself  to 
slight  or  pass  over  these  first  motions  to  good,  or 
shrinkings  of  his  conscience  from  evil,  which  origi- 
nally are  as  natural  to  the  heart  of  man  as  the 
appetities  of  hunger  and  thirst  are  to  the  stomach, 
conscience  will  by  degrees  grow  dull  and  uncon- 
cerned, and  from  not  spying  out  motes,  come  at 
length  to  overlook  beams  ;  from  carelessness  it  shall 
fall  into  a  slumber,  and  from  a  slumber  it  shall 
settle  into  a  deep  and  long  sleep  ;  till  at  last  perhaps 
it  sleeps  itself  into  a  lethargy,  and  that  such  an  one, 
that  nothing  but  hell  and  judgment  shall  be  al)le 
to  awaken  it.  For  long  disuse  of  anything  made 
for  action  will  in  time  take  away  the  very  use  of 
it.  As  1  have  read  of  one,  who  having  for  a  dis- 
guise kept  one  of  his  eyes  a  long  time  covered, 
when  he  took  off  the  covering,  found  his  eye  indeed 
where  it  was,  but  his  sight  was  gone.  He  who 
would  keep  his  conscience  awake,  must  be  careful 
to  keep  it  stirring.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(131 5.)  The  not  using  of  one's  conscience  works 

lethargy,  dulness,  and  blindness.  But  when  the 
conscience  is  fired  by  the  Divine  Sjiirit,  it  awakes 
and  tjlows  and  becomes  inconceivably  more 
sensitive.  You  know  what  it  is  to  have  your  hand 
numb,  so  that  you  scarcely  feel  that  which  you  lay 
it   upon :  and  you  knov/  what  it  is  to  have  your 


hand  acutely  sensitive.  You  know  what  it  is  to 
have  the  eye  blurred,  dim,  unseeing  ;  and  you 
know  what  it  is  to  have  the  eye  clear,  strong,  and 
discerning.  Just  so  is  it  with  conscience.  It  may 
exist  in  a  state  in  which  things  pass  before  it,  and 
it  does  not  see  them  ;  but  lies  at  the  door  like  a 
watch-dog  that  is  asleep,  past  which  goes  the  thief 
or  the  robber  into  the  house  and  commits  his 
depredations  undisturbed.  — Beaher. 

VIII.  SHOULD  BE  CAREFULLY  PRO- 
TECTED. 

(1316.)  When  we  put  a  lighthouse  on  the  coast, 

that  in  the  night  mariners  may  explore  the  dark 
and  terrible  way  of  the  sea,  we  not  only  swing  glass 
around  it  to  protect  it,  but  we  enclose  that  glass 
itself  in  a  network  of  iron  wire,  that  birds  may  not 
dash  it  in,  the  summer  winds  may  not  swoop  it  out, 
and  that  swarms  of  insects  may  not  destroy  them- 
selves and  the  light.  For  if  the  light  in  the  light- 
house be  put  out,  how  great  a  darkness  falls  upon 
the  land  and  upon  the  sea.  And  the  mariner, 
waiting  for  the  light,  or  seeing  it  not,  miscalculates, 
and  perishes. 

Now,  a  man's  conscience  ought  to  be  protected 
from  those  influences  that  would  diminish  its  light, 
or  that  would  put  it  out  ;  but  there  are  thousands 
of  men  who  are  every  day  doing  their  utmost  to 
destroy  this  light.  —Beecher, 

IX.  WORKS  DIFFERENTLY^  BUT  WITH 
THE  SAME  RESULT,  IN  DIFFERENT  MEN. 

(13 1 7.)  In  some  cases,  conscience  is  like  an 
eloquent  and  fair  spoken  judge,  who  declaims  not 
against  the  criminal,  but  condemns  him  justly.  In 
others  the  judge  is  more  angry,  and  affrights  the 
prisoner  more  ;  but  the  event  is  the  same.  For  in 
those  sins  where  the  conscience  affrights,  as  in  those 
which  it  affrights  not,  supposing  the  sins  equal,  but 
of  different  natures,  there  is  no  other  difference,  but 
the  conscience  is  a  clock  which  in  one  man  strikes 
aloud  and  gives  warning,  and  in  another  the  hand 
points  silently  to  the  figure,  but  strikes  not  ;  but  by 
this  he  may  as  surely  see  what  the  other  hears, — 
that  his  hours  pass  away,  and  death  hastens,  and 
after  death  comes  judgment. 

— Jeremy  Taylor^  1612-1667. 

(1318.)  Everyman's  conscience  testifies  that  he 
is  unlike  what  he  ought  to  be,  according  to  that 
law  engraven  upon  his  heart.  In  some,  indeed, 
conscience  may  be  seared  or  dimmer ;  or  suppose 
some  men  may  be  devoid  of  conscience,  shall  it  be 
denied  to  be  a  thing  belonging  to  the  nature  of 
man  t  Some  men  have  not  their  eyes,  yet  the 
power  of  seeing  the  light  is  natural  to  man,  and 
belongs  to  the  integrity  of  the  body.  Who  would 
argue  that,  because  some  men  are  mad,  and  have 
lost  their  reason  by  a  distemper  of  the  brain,  that 
therefore  reason  hath  no  reality,  but  is  an  imagin- 
ary thing?  But  I  think  it  is  a  standing  truth  that 
every  man  hath  been  unier  the  scourge  of  it,  one 
time  or  other,  in  a  less  or  a  greater  degree  ;  for, 
since  every  man  is  an  offender,  it  cannot  be  ima- 
gined conscience,  which  is  natural  to  man,  and  an 
active  faculty,  should  alway*  li*  idle,  without  doing 
this  part  of  its  office. 

— Ct-^'-noL-k.  1 628- 1 67a 


CONSCIENCE. 


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CONSCIENCE. 


X.    ITS  POWER. 

(13 1 9.)  Like  as  it  is  a  great  pleasure  and  joy  for 

a  man  who,  returning  home  after  a  long  and 
wcaiisome  journey  unto  his  own  house,  tindeth 
theie  his  wife,  who  cometh  to  take  him  about  the 
neck,  and  embraceth  him,  kissing  and  making  much 
of  him,  this  courteous  entertainment  maketh  him 
by  and  by  to  forget  all  his  travail  which  he  hath 
endured  in  his  journey  ;  and  contrariwise,  if  he 
find  his  wife,  after  his  return,  brawling,  riotous, 
froward,  and  who,  instead  of  comforting  him, 
would  all  manner  of  ways  vex  and  torment  him, 
this  doing,  no  doubt,  would  increase  and  double 
his  pains  and  torments  which  he  hath  endured  in 
his  long  journey  :  even  such  is  the  estate  of  the 
conscience.  Although  our  enemies  commit  a 
thousand  outrages,  violences,  and  villanies  against 
us,  yet  if  we,  returning  from  ourselves,  and  enter- 
ing into  our  own  conscience,  find  there  one  with 
a  cheerful  and  merry  countenance,  which  doth 
comfort  and  content  us,  it  maketh  us  in  a  moment 
to  forget  ail  our  enemies  ;  but,  on  the  other  side, 
if  we  have  an  evil  conscience,  it  wearieth  us  in  such 
sort,  that  we  shall  not  find  any  house  worse  than 
our  own,  nor  any  place  where  we  may  worse  quiet 
ourselves  than  with  ourselves. 

— Cawdray,  1 609. 

(1320.)  This  interior  master,  does  he  dictate 
nothing  to  you  ?  This  rack  of  the  Almighty,  does 
it  never  f  irce  you  to  confess  what  you  would 
willingly  deny  ?  — Saurin. 

XI.    TRUE   PEACE    OF  CONSCIENCE. 

1.  Its  only  source. 

(1321.)  Peace  of  conscience  is  nothing  but  the 
*cho  of  pardoning  mercy,  which  sounding  in  the 
conscience,  brings  the  soul  into  a  sweet  rest  with 
the  pleasant  music  it  makes. 

—  Gurnall,  16 17-1679. 

(1322.)  If  a  friend  should  come  to  a  malefactor 
on  his  way  to  the  gallows,  put  a  sweet  posy  into 
his  hands,  and  bid  iiim  be  of  good  cheer,  smell  on 
tliat  ;  alas  !  this  would  bring  little  joy  with  it  to  the 
poor  man's  heart,  who  sees  the  place  of  execution 
before  him.  But  if  one  comes  from  the  prince  with 
a  pardon,  which  he  puts  into  his  hand,  and  bids 
him  be  of  good  cheer- -this,  and  this  only  will  reach 
the  poor  man's  heart,  and  overrun  it  with  a  sudden 
ravishment  of  joy.  Truly  anything  sliort  of  pardon- 
ing mercy  is  as  inconsiderable  to  a  troubled  consci- 
ence (towards  any  relieving  or  pacifying  it)  as  that 
posy  in  a  dying  prisoner's  hand  would  be.  Consci- 
ence demands  as  much  to  satisfy  it  as  God  Himself 
doth  to  satisfy  Him  for  the  wrong  the  creature  hath 
done  Him.  Nothing  can  take  off  conscience  from 
accusing  but  that  which  takes  oft'  God  from  threat- 
ening. Conscience  is  God's  sergeant  lie  em[iloys 
to  arrest  the  sinner.  Now  the  sergeant  hath  no 
power  to  release  his  prisoner  upon  any  private  com- 
position between  him  and  the  prisoner  ;  but  listens, 
whether  the  d'^bt  be  lully  jiaid,  or  the  creditor  fully 
satisfied  :  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  is  discharged 
of  his  prisoner.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(1323.)  Pardon  is  the  only  fit  remedy  for  a 
troubled  conscience  ;  what  can  give  ease  to  a 
wounded  spirit,  but  pardoning  mercy?  Offer  him 
he  honours  and  pleasures   of  the  world  ,    •is  as   if 


you  bring  flowers  and  music  to  one  that  is  con« 
demned.  — Watson,  1696. 

(1324.)  Suppose  a  man  hath  a  thorn  in  his  foot, 
which  puts  him  to  pain  ;  let  him  anoint  it,  or  wrap 
it  up,  and  keep  it  warm  ;  yet,  till  the  thorn  be 
plucked  out,  it  aches  and  swells,  and  he  hath  no 
ease  ;  so  when  the  thorn  of  sin  is  gotten  into  a  man's 
conscience,  there's  no  ease  till  the  thorn  be  pulled 
out  ;  when  God  removes  iniquity,  now  the  thorn  is 
plucked  out.  How  was  David  s  heart  finely  quieted, 
when  Nathan  the  prophet  told  him,  "the  Lord  hath 
put  away  thy  sin."  How  should  we  therefore  labour 
for  forgiveness  !  till  then  we  can  have  no  ease  ia 
our  mind  :  nothing  but  a  pardon  sealed  with  th« 
blood  of  the  Redeemer  can  ease  a  wounded  spirit. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

2.  A  life-long  blessing. 

(1325.)  A  palsy  may  as  well  shake  an  oak,  or  • 
fever  dry  up  a  fountain,  as  either  of  them  shake,  dry 
up,  or  impair  the  delight  of  conscience.  For  it 
lies  within,  it  centres  in  the  heart,  it  grows  into  the 
very  substance  of  the  soul,  so  that  it  accompanies  a 
man  to  his  grave — he  never  outlives  it  ;  and  that  for 
this  cause  only,  because  he  cannot  outlive  himself. 
— South,  1 633- 1 7 16. 

S.  A  reason  for  thanksgiving. 

(1326.)  When  the  Romans,  by  conquest,  might 
have  given  law  to  the  Grecians  at  Corinth,  in  the 
solemn  time  of  the  Isthmian  games,  their  general, 
by  an  herald,  unexpectedly  proclaimed  freedom  to 
all  the  cities  of  Greece.  The  proclamation  at  first 
did  so  amaze  the  Grecians,  that  they  did  not  believe 
it  to  be  true  ;  but  when  it  was  proclaimed  the 
second  time,  they  gave  such  a  shout,  that  the  very 
birds  flying  in  the  air  were  astonished  therewith, 
and  fell  dead  to  the  ground.  But,  if  you  will  havt 
a  better  story,  take  that  of  the  Jews,  who,  when  a| 
first  they  heard  of  Cyrus'  proclamation,  and  thai 
the  Lord  thereby  had  turned  the  captivity  of  Sion, 
they  confess  that  at  the  first  hearing  of  it  they  were, 
like  men  that  dreamt  ;  but  afterwards  their  mouths 
were  filled  with  laughter  and  their  tongues  with 
singing.  Now,  the  peace  that  the  Grecians  and 
the  Jews  had  was  but  the  peace  of  a  jieople,  or 
a  nation,  and  a  great  blessing  of  God  too.  But 
how  much  more  reason  is  there  that  our  affections 
should  be  strained  to  the  highest  pitch  of  joy  and 
thanks,  when  we  hear  of  the  proclamation  of 
the  peace  of  conscience  ? — that  peace,  which  is  not 
of  our  bodies,  but  of  our  souls  ;  not  of  our  earthly, 
but  of  our  heavenly  estate — a  peace  that  shall  .be 
begun  here  and  shall  endure  for  ever  hereafter ; 
such  a  peace  as  will  make  God  at  peace  with  us, 
reconcile  us  to  ourselves,  and  make  us  at  concoiil 
with  all  the  world.  — Lake,  1627. 

XII.    FALSE    PEACE   OF  CCVSCIEA'CE. 

1.  From  what  it  arises. 

(1327.)  Let  no  man  conclude,  because  his  con- 
science says  nothing  to  him,  that  therefore  it  has 
nothing  to  say.  Possibly  some  never  so  ir..ich  as 
doubted  of  the  safety  of  their  spiritual  estate  in  all 
their  lives  ;  and  If  so,  let  them  not  flatter  themselves, 
but  rest  assured  that  they  have  so  much  the  more 
reason  a  great  deal  to  doubt  of  it  now.  For  the 
causes  of  such  a  profound  stillness  are  ge::erally 
gross  ignorance,  or  long  custom  of  sinning,  or  both  ; 
ar.d  these  are  very  dreadful  symptoms  indeed  to  s'lch 


CONSCIENCE. 


(    235    ) 


CONSCIENCE. 


M  are  not  hell  and  damnation  proof.  When  a 
man  s  wounds  cease  to  smart,  only  because  he  has 
lost  his  feeling,  they  are  nevertheless  mortal  for 
this  not  seeing  his  need  of  a  chirurgeon.  It  is  not 
mere,  actual,  present  ease,  but  ease  after  pain,  which 
biings  tlie  most  ilurable  and  solid  comfort.  Acquit- 
ment before  trial  can  be  no  security.  Great  and 
strong  calms  usually  portend  and  go  before  the  most 
violent  storms.  Ami,  therefore,  since  storms  and 
calms  (especially  with  reference  to  the  state  of  the 
soul)  do  always  follow  one  another  ;  certainly  of 
the  two  it  is  much  more  eligible  to  have  the  storm 
first  and  tlie  calm  alterwartls  :  since  a  calm  before 
a  storm  is  conniionly  a  peace  of  a  man's  own  mali- 
ing  ;  but  a  calm  alter  a  storm,  a  peace  of  God's. 
— ^uulk,  1633-17 16. 

2.  Its  folly. 

(1328.)  Sin  is  in  the  world,  sin  lurks  in  your 
hearts  and  mine  ;  and  yet  men  take  little  account  of 
it.  There  was  a  city  visited  by  the  plague  long 
since  ;  and  whilst  death  was  busily  smiting  every 
household,  a  few  frivolous  men  and  women  sought 
out  a  pleasant  retirement,  and  there  they  spent  their 
days  in  weaving  love-tales  and  playing  with  com- 
pliments ;  and  still  the  plague  was  cutting  off 
hundreds  at  their  gate.  Just  so  do  we  act  under 
our  greater  plague.  Oh,  my  friends,  it  is  not  by 
hiding  our  heads,  like  a  silly  bird  pursued  by 
hunters,  that  we  can  escape  the  keen  eyes  of  our 
pursuer.  The  question  is — are  you  willing  to  die 
as  you  are  living  ?  — Thomson. 

8.  Deceptive  and  dangerous. 

(1329.)  Your  peace  is  a  false  peace.  It  is  the 
friendship  of  J  oab,  concealing  his  murderous  dagger. 
It  is  the  slumber  of  Samson  in  the  lap  of  Delilah, 
softly  depriving  him  of  his  locks.  It  is  a  sleep 
obtained  by  opium.  It  is  the  loss  of  feeling,  the 
presage  of  death.  It  is  the  calm  of  the  Dead  Sea, 
the  consequence  and  the  evidence  of  a  curse. 
Thus  we  have  observed,  that  before  a  fall  of  ex- 
ceedingly heavy  rain,  the  wind  has  been  unusually 
still.  Thus  travellers  inform  us,  that  before  an 
earthquake  the  air  is  uncommonly  serene.  Whe- 
ther therefore  you  will  hear,  or  whether  you  will 
forbear,  I  sound  the  alarm,  and  give  you  warning 
from  God — '*  Woe  to  them  that  are  at  ease  in 
Zion  !  "  — Jay. 

(1330.)  This  apathy  of  soul  is  but  as  the  awful 
calm  of  nature  which  ushers  in  the  bursting  of  the 
ear'.hquake  or  volcano  ;  or  it  may  be  likened  to  the 
dead  repose  of  nature  which  precedes  the  approach- 
ing storm  on  some  Alpine  summit:  the  winds  are 
hushed,  not  a  leaf  is  seen  to  move,  and  the  soli- 
tary bird  seeks  his  sheltered  nook — an  awful  still- 
ness prevails,  but  it  is  the  stillness  of  the  gather- 
ing tempest,  which  is  about  to  sweep  in  desolation 
all  around  it,  and  from  which  the  thunders  of  an 
angry  heaven  are  prepared  to  burst.  Such  is  that 
deathlike  stupor  of  the  conscience  which  is  only 
to  issue  in  desolation  and  the  blackness  of  dark- 
ness for  ever.  — Salter. 

4.  Imperfect  and  Insecure. 

(1331.)  As  the  sick  man,  when  he  seems  to 
sleep  anil  take  his  rest,  is  inwardly  full  of  troubles  ; 
so  the  benumbed  and  drowsy  conscience  wants  not 
secret  pangs  and  terrors.  — Cawaray,  1609. 

(<332.)  Many  besot  their  conscience  with  the 
brutish  pleasures  of  sin  ;  a»d  when  they  h-ive  laid 


it  as  fast  asleep  in  senseless  stup  Mity  as  one  that  is 

dead  drunk,  then  they  may  sin  without  control,  till 
it  wakes  again.  This  is  the  height  of  that  peace 
which  any  carnal  receipt  can  help  the  sinner  unto ; 
to  give  a  sleeping  potion  that  shall  bind  up  the 
senses  of  conscience  for  a  while,  in  which  time 
the  wretch  may  forget  his  misery,  as  the  con- 
demned man  doth  when  he  is  asleep,  but  as  soon 
as  it  awakes,  the  horror  of  his  condition  is  sure 
again  to  afiright  him  worse  than  before.  God 
keep  you  all  from  such  a  cure  for  your  troubles  of 
conscience,  which  is  a  thousand  times  worse  than 
the  disease  itself  !  Better  to  have  a  dog  that  will 
by  his  barking  tell  us  a  thief  is  in  our  yard,  than 
one  that  will  sit  still  and  let  us  be  robbed  before 
we  have  any  notice  of  our  danger. 

—  Gitrnall,  1617-1679. 

5.  Satan's  caro  not  to  disturb  It. 

(1333.)  A  presumptuous  faith  is  an  easy  faith  ;  it 
hath  no  enemy  in  Satan,  or  our  own  corrupt  hearts 
to  oppose  it,  and  so  like  a  stinking  weeil,  shoots  up 
and  grows  rank  on  a  sudden.  The  devil  never 
hath  the  sinner  surer  than  when  dreaming  in  this 
fool's  paradise,  and  walking  in  his  sleep,  amidst 
his  vain  phantastical  hopes  of  Christ  and  salva- 
tion. And  therefore  he  is  so  far  from  waking  him 
that  he  draws  the  curtains  close  about  him  that 
no  light  nor  noise  in  his  conscience  may  break  his 
rest.  Did  you  ever  know  the  thief  call  him  up  in 
the  night  whom  he  meant  to  rob  and  kill  ?  No, 
sleep  is  his  advantage.  But  true  faith  he  is  a 
sworn  enemy  against  ;  he  persecutes  it  in  the  very 
cradle,  as  Herod  did  Christ  in  Cratch,  he  pours  a 
flood  of  wrath  after  it  as  soon  as  it  betrays  its  own 
birth  by  crying  and  lamenting  after  the  Lord  ; 
if  thy  faith  be  legitimate,  Naphtali  may  be  its 
name  ;  and  thou  mayest  say,  with  gieat  wrestlings 
have  I  tvrestled  with  Satan,  and  my  own  base  heart, 
and  at  last  have  prevailed. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

XIIl.  THE  EFFECTS  OF  AN  AWAKENED 
CONSCIENCE. 

(1334.)  Even  as  he  who  is  troubled  with  a  burn- 
ing fever  is  hotter  than  he  who  is  parched  with  the 
sun  :  so  is  that  man  more  troubled  who  hath  a  guilty 
conscience  than  a  good  man  by  all  outward  afflic- 
tions. —  Cinvdray,  1609. 

(1335.)  If  a  man  be  sick,  wear  he  never  so  stately 
robes,  he  minds  them  not ;  have  he  never  so  dainty 
fare,  he  relishelh  it  not ;  lay  him  in  never  so  soft  a 
bed,  yet  he  cannot  rest  :  his  diseased  body  feels 
nothing  but  the  afflicting  peccant  humour.  Even 
so,  when  the  remorse  of  conscience  works,  all  our 
gifts  and  parts,  be  they  never  so  great,  appear 
not  ;  riches,  though  in  great  abundance,  satisfy 
not  ;  honours,  preferments,  though  never  so  emi- 
nent, advantage  not  ;  though  we  have  them  all  for 
the  present,  yet  we  have  not  the  use  of  them  :  we 
see,  we  hear,  but  we  feel  nothing  but  sin  ;  as  e-xperi- 
ence  teacheth  them  that  have  been  distressed  in  tldf 
kind.  — Lake,  1627. 

('336-)  A  guilty  conscience  is  a  real  tomb, 
wherein  the  possessed  person  kdges,  and  where 
stench  and  darkness  reign.  — Quesnd. 

(I337-)  The  envenomed  head  of  sin's  arrow  that 
lies   burning   in    conscience,    and   by   its  continua' 


CONSCIENCE. 


(    236    ) 


CONSCIENCE. 


boking  and  throbbing  there,  keeps  the  poor  sinner 
out  of  quiet,  yea,  sometimes  in  insupportable  tor- 
ment and  horror,  is  guilt.   — Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(1338.)  Conscience  is  too  great  a  power  in  the 
nature  of  man  to  be  altogether  subdued  :  it  may  for 
a  lime  be  repressed  and  kejH  dormant ;  but  con- 
jectures there  are  in  human  life  which  awaken  it  ; 
and  when  once  re-awakened,  it  flashes  on  the 
sinner's  mind  with  all  the  horrors  of  an  invisible 
ruler  and  a  future  judgment. 

— Blair,  1 7 18- 1800. 

{1339.)  As  soon  as  the  conscience  becomes  sensi- 
tive, it  brings  a  man's  sins  to  a  more  solemn  account 
than  before. 

There  are  many  things  that  we  adjudge  to  be 
sinful.  We  condemn  them  as  sinful.  A  man  says, 
*' Profanity  is  sinful,"  or  "dishonesty  is  sinful;" 
but,  after  all,  he  has  a  good-natured  way  of  dealing 
with  these  things  If  men  were  as  good-natured  to 
their  enemies  as  they  are  to  their  own  sins,  there 
would  be  much  less  conflict  in  the  world  than  there 
is,  for  they  contrive  to  live  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
their  faults.  I  knew  a  man  that  had  a  huge  rock 
in  his  field.  He  did  not  want  to  waste  time  and 
powder  to  blast  and  remove  it.  What  did  he  do  ? 
Why,  he  planted  ivy  and  roses  and  honeysuckles 
about  it  to  cover  it  up  ;  and  he  invites  people  to 
come  and  see  how  beautiful  it  is.  A  certain  part  of 
his  farm  was  low,  moist,  and  disagreeable.  And, 
instead  of  collecting  the  water,  and  letting  it  run  in 
a  central  channel,  he  planted  mosses,  ferns,  rhodo- 
dendrons, and  the  like  over  the  place,  and  let  them 
grow  ;  and  now  he  regards  that  as  one  of  the  hand- 
somest parts  of  his  tarm.  And  men  treat  their 
faults  so.  flere  is  a  man  that  has  a  hard  and  ill- 
temper  ;  but  he  has  planted  all  about  it  \\y  and 
roses  and  honeysuckles  which  cover  it,  so  that  when 
he  looks  at  it  he  sees  only  flowers  and  green  leaves. 
He  thinks  he  is  a  better  man  because  all  his 
imperfections  are  hidden  from  his  sight.  Here  is  a 
man  that  does  not  drain  his  swamps  of  evil  courses, 
but  covers  them  over  with  mosses  and  various 
plants,  and  thinks  he  is  better  because  he  is  more 
beauteous  in  his  own  eyes.  And  men  are  for  ever 
decorating  themselves,  smoothing  their  asperities, 
covering  up  their  boulders.  And  there  come  times 
in  the  history  of  men  when  it  seems  as  though  God, 
with  the  voice  of  resurrection,  called  out  10  their 
conscience,  and  shook  it,  and  made  it  awake.  And 
then  comes  to  them  a  sense  of  that  which  was 
spoken  of  by  the  apostle — the  exceeding  sinfulness  of 
sin.  — Beecher. 

(1340.)  When  a  man's  conscience  is  aroused,  and 
he  is  attempting  to  reform,  he  says  :  "As  long  as  I 
did  about  as  ivell  as  I  knew  how,  I  did  very  well  ; 
but,  as  soon  as  1  attempted  to  regulate  pride  and 
vanity  and  the  ajipetites  and  passions,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  never  had  so  much  turmoil  and  confusion. 
And  is  it  so,"  he  says,  "that  religion  makes  a  man 
worse?  1  have  been  trying  to  live  a  religious  life; 
and  1  think  1  have  been  a  worse  man  than  I  was 
before."  1  will  tell  you  what  you  have  been  like  ; 
you  have  been  like  an  old  family  well,  that  has  not 
been  cleaned  for  twenty  years,  and  that  is  under- 
going the  process  of  cleaning.  A  man  has  a  well 
that  has  become  very  foul,  and  threatens  to  breed 
disease,  and  lie  is  determined  to  clean  it  out ;  and 
men  go  down  and  scoop   up   bits  of  sticks,    and 


pieces  of  crockery,  and  all  manner  of  filth.     And 

immediately  after  these  things  have  been  removed, 
the  man  draws  a  bucket  of  water,  and  says  ;  "  It  is 
dirtier  than  ever  before  I  "  Of  course,  it  is  ,  for  it 
has  not  had  time  to  settle  yet.  By  and  by  u  will 
be  purer  than  ever  before,  but  not  yet. 

— Beechet. 

(134 1.)  The  next  fact  of  this  reviving  of  the 
conscience  is  that,  while  it  carries  up  the  judgment 
of  the  sinfulness  of  sinful  acts,  it  brings  into  the 
category  of  sins  a  thousand  things  that  before  we 
never  have  called  such.  Consider  how  very  small 
a  part  of  your  daily  life  is  morally  judged  at  all. 
You  have  set  apart  a  few  great  staple  sins,  and  if 
you  commit  any  of  these  you  think  you  are  sinful ; 
but  all  the  rest  of  your  conduct  goes  almost  without 
examination.  You  scarcely  think  about  it.  Why, 
the  wastes  of  human  life  in  this  direction  are  per- 
fectly incalculable  !  Of  the  feelings  that  flow  through 
your  mind,  the  probability  is  that  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  in  a  thousand  are  not  registered.  You 
do  not  consider  them  at  all.  You  give  them  no 
moral  standing.  You  have  no  sense  of  whether 
they  are  right  or  wrong.  ■  A  vast  majority  of  the 
judgments  of  myriads  of  flashing  feelings  in  the  way 
of  retrospections  or  outward  lookings  are  never 
recorded,  never  classified,  never  tested. 

When  gold  comes  into  the  Assay  Office,  they  treat 
it  as  we  do  not  treat  ourselves.  It  is  carefully 
weighed  when  it  is  brought  in,  and  during  the 
process  of  assaying  it  is  worked  up  to  the  very  last 
particle.  Every  particle  is  deemed  precious  ;  yea, 
the  very  sweepings  of  the  floor  are  gathered  together 
and  are  assayed  again. 

Now  men  throw  in  their  conduct  in  bulk,  and  do 
not  care  for  the  sweepings ;  and  vastly  the  greatest 
portion  of  it  comes  out  without  being  brought  to 
any  test.  The  most  transcendent  feelings,  the  most 
important  interior  agencies  in  the  structure  of  man's 
moral  character  are  being  acted  on  and  worked  out, 
and  men  neither  scrutinise  nor  form  just  judgments 
of  them  ;  and  it  is  to  the  last  degree  important  that 
there  should  come  periods  in  which  men  are  obliged 
to  bring  into  the  category  of  sins  those  practices 
which  otherwise  they  would  call  their  faults,  or 
weaknesses,  or  foibles,  or  infirmities,  or  what  not. 

See  how  it  is  to-day  in  New  York.  They  have 
a  board  of  health  there.  And  how  much  dirt  there 
was  found  the  moment  there  was  an  authority  to 
make  men  look  for  it.  Everybody  is  scouring,  and 
everybody  is  scrubbing  dirt.  It  is  not  hall  as  dirty 
as  it  was  a  little  while  ago  ;  but  the  dirt  is  more 
apparent,  because  it  is  stirred  up.  Once  bring  the 
influence  of  sanitary  law  to  bear,  and  see  how 
gutters  that  time  out  of  mind  have  been  neglected 
are  attended  to.  Men,  looking  at  them,  say  : 
"They  are  filthy." 

Now,  let  the  power  of  conscience  be  brought  to 
bear  on  men  who  have  been  indulging  in  wrong, 
and  they  pause  and  say  :  "That  is  not  right,  is  it  ? 
I  ought  to  stop  it."  Only  give  a  clearer  sense  of 
what  is  right  to  men,  and  they  will  instantly  see  in 
themselves  much  wrong  that  they  have  not  before 
discovered. 

The  probability  is  that  now,  in  New  York,  there 
is  more  apprehension  of  danger  irom  a  want  of 
cleanliness  than  there  has  been  during  the  last 
twenty-five  years  put  together.  This  has  arisen  not 
from  the  fact  that  the  city  is  less  cleanly  than  it  has 
been — it  is  more  cleanly  ;  but  from  the   increased 


CONSCIENCE. 


(     237     ) 


CONTEN  TMENT. 


sensibility  of  men  on  the  subject,  and  the  application 
of  a  higher  test  to  it. 

It  is  90  in  housekeeping.  You  go  in  and  out  of 
your  house,  and  do  not  perceive  that  it  is  wanting 
in  cleanliness  ;  but  by  and  by  comes  the  bustle  and 
preparation  of  cleaning.  Owing  to  a  seeming 
annual  instinct,  when  the  birds  build  their  nests, 
the  housekeeper  begins  to  clean  hers.  Now,  see 
what  a  sense  there  is  of  webs  and  dust  and  con- 
cealed dirt,  and  how  everything  is  probed,  or 
winnowed,  or  tested,  or  washed  and  scouretl,  and 
what  a  vast  amount  of  neglected,  treasured  dust  and 
various  filth  there  is.  IJut  take  a  magnifying  glass, 
and  let  it  reveal  to  you  what  is  the  structure  of  what 
you  call  dust.  This  is  a  particle  of  bone  ;  this  is  a 
bit  of  shell  ;  this  is  insect  dirt  ;  and  what  you  call 
dust,  and  brush  oft'  from  your  hand  or  your  clothes, 
is  coiv posed  of  specks  and  fragments  of  hundreds  of 
different  objects,  which,  if  you  saw  them  in  a  mass, 
would  be  horriMe  to  you. 

Now,  that  which  is  true  of  the  accumulation  of 
dust  on  the  body  is  more  signally  true  of  the 
accumulation  of  particles  of  thought  and  feeling  and 
conduc'  upon  the  soul.  Men  are  insensible  of  it 
T3r:*.il  there  comes  this  revealing  power  of  God,  and 
'ne  conscience  is  awakened  so  as  to  bring  them  to 
judgment  ;  and  then  how  do  they  say,  "  We  are 
swallowed  up  in  transgression  !  "  — Beecher. 

XIV.     THE  DIFFICULTY  OF  SA TISFYING  IT. 

(1342.)  When  a  man  begins  to  labour  to  satisfy 
his  conscience,  his  conscience  becomes  exacting 
faster  than  he  can  learn  how  to  perform.  His 
ideal,  associated  with  his  moral  sense,  augments 
more  rapidly  than  his  performance.  So  that  the 
more  he  does,  the  less  he  is  satisfied.  Many  a  man 
will  witness  to  me  here  that  the  most  violent  exer- 
tions that  he  ever  put  forth  were  toward  reforma- 
tions that  brought  him  the  least  of  comfort.  Here 
stands  an  old  house  that  has  been  a  hundred  years 
without  a  repair.  The  old  master  dies,  and  a 
new  man  comes  in  ;  and  with  him  comes  reforma- 
tion and  reparation.  He  sends  for  his  architect 
and  master  workman,  that  commence  searching  to 
ascertain  what  is  required  to  be  done.  There  is  a 
shingle  off,  which  must  be  put  on.  But  when 
that  is  taken  off,  it  is  found  that  the  next  one  is 
rotten.  When  that  is  taken  ofl",  it  is  found  that 
the  next  one  is  rotten.  When  that  is  taken  off,  it 
is  found  that  the  very  boards  to  which  the  shingles 
are  fastened  are  rotten.  And  these  must  come 
out.  And  when  these  are  taken  out,  it  is  found 
that  the  very  beam  under  them  is  decayed.  And 
this  must  come  out.  And  by  probing  it  is  found 
that  there  is  decay  all  through  the  building.  And 
the  result  is,  that  when  the  house  is  gone  through, 
the  man  has  spent  enough  to  have  built  a  new  one, 
and  still  it  is  an  old  one.  I'art  leads  to  part,  and 
disclosure  to  disclosure,  and  decay  to  decay  ;  and 
it  seems  as  though  it  was  almost  impossible  ever  to 
make  it  good.  That  is  but  a  faint  emblem  of  the 
work  of  reformation  in  the  human  soul.  When  a 
man  begins  to  probe  his  disposition,  he  finds  it  to 
be  a  very  different  thing  from  a  house.  A  house  is 
inert,  and  offers  no  resistance  to  bis  attempts  to 
renew  and  renovate  it  ;  but  the  human  disposition 
is  an  ever-fertile,  ever-growing,  ever-recreating 
centre.  And  a  man  is  conscious  that  the  more  he 
tries  to  regulate  it,  the  irarder  it  is  to  do  it. 

— Reccher. 


XV.  IS  CAPABLE  OF  IMMENSE  IMPROVE- 
MENT. 

(1343.)  How  far  it  may  be  improved,  is  evident 
from  that  high  and  refined  morality  which  shone 
forth  both  in  the  lives  and  writings  of  some  of  the 
ancient  heathens,  who  yet  had  no  other  light  but 
this,  both  to  live  and  to  write  by.  For  how  great 
a  man  in  virtue  was  Cato,  of  whom  the  historian 
gives  this  glorious  character  :  Esse  qtumi  rideri 
bomts  ina.'eliatl  And  of  what  an  impregnable  in- 
tegrity was  Fabricius,  of  whom  it  was  said,  that  a 
man  might  as  well  attempt  to  turn  the  sun  out  of 
his  course,  as  to  bring  Fabricius  to  do  a  base  or  a 
dishonest  action  !  And  then  for  their  writings ; 
what  admirable  things  occur  in  the  remains  of 
Pythagoras,  and  the  books  of  Plato,  and  of  several 
other  philosophers  !  short,  I  confess,  of  the  rules  of 
Christianity,  but  generally  above  the  lives  of  Chris- 
tians. — South,  1 633-1 716. 

{1344.)  The  sailor,  by  using  his  eye,  can  sef 
farther  than  any  one  else;  the  athlete  can  accom 
plish  physical  results  the  physically  untrained 
cannot.  So,  in  the  fine  arts,  the  faculty  of  percep- 
tion of  the  beautiful,  by  using  it,  becomes  finer  and 
more  subtle.  It  is  the  same  with  the  conscience, 
which  may  become  so  educated  as  to  be  the  subtle 
detector  of  wrong— a  good  conscience.  The  faculty 
used  strengthens ;  the  faculty  disused  withers  and 
decays.  — Chapin. 

(1345.)  A  parboiled  conscience  is  not  right,  soft 
in  one  part  and  hard  in  another.  The  spirit  oi 
God  is  uniform  in  its  work.  — Curnall. 

XVI.  TENDERNESS  OF  CONSCIENCE. 

(1346.)  Tenderness  applied  to  the  conscience 
properly  imports  quickness  and  exactness  of  sense, 
which  is  the  perfection  of  this  faculty,  whose  duty 
it  is  to  be  a  spiritual  watch  to  give  us  warning  of 
whatsoever  concerns  us.  It  is  indeed  the  eye  of 
the  soul:  and  though  the  eye  is  naturally  the  most 
tender  and  delicate  part  of  the  body,  yet  it  is  not 
therefore  called  weak  so  long  as  its  sight  i;;  quick 
and  strong.  Conscience,  the  more  sensible  it  is  to 
accuse  or  excuse  (which  is  its  office),  and  to  spy 
out  every  little  thing  which  may  annoy  or  defilt 
the  soul,  so  much  the  more  tender  it  is  to  be 
accounted,  but  not  therefore  so  much  the  mors 
weak  ;  which  sufficiently  shows  wcJ-cness  and 
tenderness  of  conscience  to  be,  in  strictness  of 
speech,  two  different  things. 

— Soiah,  1 633- 1 716. 

(1347.)  A  tender  conscience,  like  the  eye,  is 
offended  with  a  mote.  A  dead  corpse  is  unaffected 
with  the  deepest  wounds  ;  but  the  point  of  a  needle 
makes  the  living  body  to  writhe.  Whde  otliers 
do  not  groan,  though  charged  with  heinous  crimes, 
the  Christian  complains  even  of  infirmities,  o( 
wandering  thoughts,  of  earthly  affections.  A  look 
from  his  offended  Lord  will  make  him  "go  out 
and  weep  bitterly."  — iV- 


CONTENTMENT. 

1.  Is  a  cbaracteristic  of  the  Christian. 

(1348.)  The  Christian  is  content  with  his  situation, 


CONTENTMENT. 


(     238    ) 


CONTENTMENT. 


because  the  Lord  chooses  it  for  him  ;  his  spirit  is 
not  eager  for  alterations  in  his  circunistar.ces.  If 
Divine  providence  points  out  and  leads  to  a  change, 
he  is  ready  to  follow,  though  it  should  be  what  the 
world  would  call  from  a  better  to  a  worse  ;  for  he 
is  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger  here,  and  a  citizen  of 
heaven.  As  people  of  fortune  sometimes,  in  travel- 
ling, submit  cheerfully  to  inconvenient  accommoda- 
tions, very  different  from  their  homes,  and  com- 
ifort  themselves  with  thinking  they  are  not  always 
to  live  so;  so  the  Christian  is  not  greatly  solicitous 
about  externals.  If  he  has  them,  he  will  use  them 
moderately.  If  he  has  but  little  of  them,  he  can 
make  a  good  shift  without  them  :  he  is  but  upon  a 
journey,  and  will  soon  be  at  home.  If  he  be  rich, 
experience  confirms  our  Lord's  words  (Luke  xii. 
15)  ;  and  satisfies  him,  that  a  large  room,  a  crowd 
of  servants,  and  twenty  dishes  upon  his  table,  add 
nothing  to  the  real  happiness  of  life.  Therefo:  e  he 
will  not  have  his  heart  set  upon  such  things.  If  he 
be  in  a  humbler  state,  he  is  more  disposed  to  pity 
'than  to  envy  those  above  him' ;  for  he  judges  they 
must  have  many  encumbrances  from  which  he  is 
freed.  However,  the  will  of  God,  and  the  light  of 
His  countenance,  are  tiie  chief  things  the  Christian, 
whether  rich  or  poor,  regards  ;  and  therefore  his 
moderation  is  made  known  unto  all  men. 

— Newton,  1725-1807. 

2.  The  example  of  St.  Paul. 

(1349.)  God  had  brought  St.  Paul  into  as  great 
a  variety  of  conditions  as  ever  we  read  of  any  man, 
and  yet  he  was  content  ;  else  sure  he  coukl  never 
have  gone  through  it  with  so  much  cheerfulness. 
See  into  what  vicissitudes  this  blessed  Apostle  was 
cast  :  "we  are  troubled  on  every  side,"  there  was 
the  sadness  of  his  condition  ;  "  but  not  distressed," 
there  was  his  content  in  that  condition  :  "we  are 
perplexed,"  there  is  his  affliction  ;  "but  not  in  de- 
spair," there  is  his  contentation.  And,  if  we  read 
a  little  further,  "In  afflictions,  in  necessities,  in 
distresses,  in  stripes,  in  imprisonments,  in 
tumults,"  &c. — there  is  his  trouble:  and  behold  his 
content,  "As  having  nothing,  yet  possessing  all 
things."  When  the  Apostle  was  driven  out  of  all, 
yet  in  regard  of  that  sweet  contentment  of  mind 
(which  was  like  music  in  his  soul)  he  possessed  all. 
\Ve  read  a  short  map  or  history  of  his  sufierings, 
(2  Cor.  xi.  23-25):  "  In  prisons  more  frequent, 
jn  deaths  oft,"  &c.  Yet  behold  the  blessed  frame 
and  temper  of  his  spirit,  "I  have  learned  in  what- 
soever state  I  am  therewith  to  be  content."  W  hich 
way  soever  providence  did  blow,  he  had  such 
heavenly  skill  and  dexterity,  that  he  knew  how  to 
steer  his  course.  For  his  outward  estate  he  was 
indiflerent  :  he  could  be  either  on  the  top  of  Jacob's 
ladder,  or  at  the  bottom  ;  he  could  sing  either  the 
dirge  or  the  anthem  ;  he  could  be  anything  that 
God  would  have  him  :  "I  know  how  to  want,  how 
to  abound."  Here  is  a  rare  pattern  for  us  to  imi- 
tate. Paul,  in  regard  of  his  faith  and  courage,  was 
like  a  cedar,  he  could  not  be  stirred  ;  but  for  his 
outvvard  condition,  he  was  like  a  reed  bending  every 
way  with  the  wind  of  providence.  When  a  prosper- 
ous gale  did  blow  upon  him,  he  could  bend  with 
that,  "  I  know  how  to  be  full  :"  and  when  a  bois- 
terous gust  of  affliction  did  blow,  he  could  bend  in 
humility  with  that,  "  I  know  how  to  be  hungry." 
Si.  I'aul  was  (ns  Aristotle  speaks)  like  a  die  that 
hath  four  sq'iares;  throw  it  which  way  you  will,  it 
talk  upon    a  bottom  :    let  God   throw  the  Apostle 


which  way  Ha  would,  he  fell  upon  this  bottom  of 
contentment.  A  contented  spirit  is  like  a  watch  : 
though  you  carry  it  up  and  down  with  you,  yet  the 
spring  of  it  is  not  shaken  ;  nor  the  wheels  out  of 
order,  but  the  watch  keeps  its  perfect  motion  :  so 
it  was  with  St.  Paul,  though  God  carried  him  into 
various  conditions,  yet  he  was  not  lift  up  with  the 
one  nor  cast  down  with  the  other  ;  the  spring  of 
his  heart  was  not  broken,  the  wheels  of  his  afl'ections 
were  not  disordered,  but  kept  their  constant  motion 
towards  heaven  ;  still  content,     — Watson,  1696. 

3.  Is  peculiar  to  the  cMldren  of  God. 

(1350.)  If  we  should  put  some  men  to  an  art  that 
they  are  not  skilled  in,  how  unfit  would  they  be  for 
it  ?  Put  an  husbandman  to  limning  or  drawing 
pictures,  what  strange  work  would  he  make? 
l  his  is  out  of  his  sphere.  Take  a  limner  that  is 
exact  in  laying  of  colours,  and  put  him  to  plough, 
or  set  him  to  planting  and  grafting  of  trees ; 
this  is  not  his  art,  he  io  not  skilled  in  it.  Bid  a 
natural  man  live  by  faith,  and  when  all  things  go 
cross,  be  contented  ;  you  bid  him  do  what  he  hath 
no  skill  in  ;  you  may  as  well  bid  a  child  guide  the 
stern  of  a  ship.  To  live  contented  upon  God  in 
the  deficiency  of  outward  comforts  is  an  art  which 
"  llesh  and  blood  hath  not  learned  ;  "  nay,  many  of 
God's  own  children  who  excel  in  some  duties  of 
religion,  when  they  come  to  this  of  contentment, 
now  do  they  bungle  1  They  have  scarcely  commenced 
masters  of  this  art.  — Watson,  1696. 

4.  From  what  It  arises. 

(135 1.)  Content  is  the  gift  of  heaven,  and  not  the 
certain  effect  of  anything  upon  earth  ;  and  it  is  as 
easy  for  Providence  to  convey  it  without  wealth  as 
with  it  ;  it  being  the  undeniable  prerogative  of  the 
first  cause,  that  whatsoever  it  does  by  the  mediation 
of  second  causes,  it  can  do  immediately  by  itself 
without  them.  The  heavens  can  and  do  every  day 
derive  water  and  refreshment  upon  the  earth 
without  either  pipes  or  conduits,  though  the  weak- 
ness of  human  industry  is  forced  to  fly  to  these  little 
assistances  to  compass  the  same  effects.  Ha]jpiness 
and  comfort  stream  immediately  from  God  Himself, 
as  light  issues  from  the  sun,  and  sometimes  looks 
and  darts  itself  into  the  meanest  corners,  while  it 
forbears  to  visit  the  largest  and  the  noblest  rooms. 
Every  man  is  happy  or  miserable,  as  the  temper  of 
his  mind  places  him,  either  directly  under,  or  beside, 
the  inlluences  of  the  Divine  nature  ;  which  enlighten 
and  enliven  the  disposed  mind  with  secret,  inetlable 
joys,  and  such  as  the  vicious  or  unprepared  mind  is 
wholly  unacquainted  with.  "We  have  nothing, 
and  yet  we  possess  all  things,"  says  the  Apostle 
(2  Cor.  vi.  10).  And  can  a  greater  happiness  be 
imagined,  than  that  which  gives  a  man  here  all 
things  in  possession,  together  with  a  glorious 
eternity  in  reversion?  In  a  word,  it  is  not  what  a 
man  has,  but  what  he  is,  which  must  make  him 
happy.  — South,  1633-1716. 

5.  How  It  is  to  be  attained. 

(1352.)  As  the  remedy  to  quench  his  thirst  that  is 
vexed  with  a  hot  fever  cometh  not  of  giving  him 
drink,  but  of  taking  away  his  fever  which  causeth 
his  thirst  :  even  so  the  way  to  grow  rich  is  not  by 
heaping  of  riches,  but  by  diminishing  the  covetous* 
ness  and  unlawful  desire  of  the  same. 

—  Cawdi  ay,  1 598- 1 664. 


CONTENTMENT. 


(     239     ) 


CONTENTMENT. 


(1353.)  To  secure  a  contented  spirit,  measure 
your  desires  by  your  fortunes,  and  not  your  fortunes 
by  your  desires.         — Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(1354.)  Be  content  :  and  the  best  way  to  be 
cont  »nted  is,  believe  that  condition  best  which  God 
carves  out  to  you  by  His  providence.  If  God  had 
seen  it  fit  for  us  to  have  more,  we  would  have  had 
it  ;  but  His  wisdom  sees  this  best  for  us.  Perhaps 
we  could  not  manage  a  great  estate,  it  is  hard  to 
carry  a  full  cup  without  spilling,  and  a  full  estate 
without  sinning.  Great  estates  may  be  snares  ;  a 
boat  may  be  overturned  by  having  too  great  a  sail. 
The  believing  that  estate  best  God  carves  for  us 
makes  us  content.  — Walson,  1696. 

6.  Reasons  for  contentment. 

('355-)  If  ^  traveller  hath  but  enough  to  bring 
him  to  his  journey's  end,  he  desires  no  more.  We 
have  but  a  day  to  live,  and  perhaps  we  may  be  now 
in  the  twelfth  hour  of  that  day  ;  and  if  God  give  us 
but  enough  to  bear  our  charges  till  night,  it  is 
sufficient  ;  let  us  be  content.  If  a  man  had  the 
lease  of  a  house  or  farm  but  for  two  or  three  days, 
and  he  should  fall  a-building  and  planting,  would 
he  not  be  judged  very  indiscreet?  So,  when  we 
have  but  a  short  time  here,  and  death  calls  us 
presently  off  the  stage,  to  thirst  immoderately  after 
the  world,  and  pull  down  our  souls  to  build  up  an 
estate,  were  it  not  extreme  folly?  Therefore,  as 
Esau  said  once,  in  a  profane  sense,  concerning  his 
birthright,  "  Lo  !  I  am  at  the  point  to  die,  and 
what  profit  shall  this  birthright  do  to  me  ?  "  so  let 
us  all  say,  in  a  religious  sense,  "  Lo  1  I  am  even  at 
the  point  of  death,  my  grave  is  going  to  be  made, 
and  what  good  will  the  world  do  to  me  ?  If  1  have 
but  enough  till  sun-setting,  I  am  content." 

—  Cmvdray. 

(1356.)  We  stand  oft  in  our  own  light  ;  if  we 
should  sort,  or  parcel  out  our  own  comforts,  we 
should  hit  upon  the  wrong.  Is  it  not  well  for  the 
child,  that  the  parent  doth  choose  for  it?  Were  it 
left  to  itself,  it  would  perhaps  choose  a  knife  to  cut 
its  own  fingers.  A  man  in  a  paroxysm  calls  for 
wine,  which  if  he  had,  it  were  little  better  than 
poison  :  it  is  well  for  the  patient,  that  he  is  at  the 
physician's  appointment. 

The  consideration  of  a  decree  determining,  and  a 
providence  disposing  of  all  things  that  lall  out, 
should  work  our  hearts  to  holy  contentment.  The 
wise  God  hath  ordered  our  condition  :  if  He  sees  it 
better  for  us  to  abound,  we  shall  abound  ;  if  He 
sees  it  better  for  us  to  want,  we  shall  want ;  be 
content  to  be  at  God's  disposal. 

God  sees,  in  His  intmite  wisdom,  the  same 
condition  is  not  convenient  for  all  ;  that  which  is 
good  for  one,  may  be  bad  for  another  ;  one  season 
nf  weather  will  not  serve  all  men's  occasions  ;  one 
liceds  sunshine,  another  rain  ;  one  condition  of  life 
will  not  fit  every  man,  no  more  than  one  suit 
OJ  apparel  will  fit  everybody.        — Watson,  1696. 

(1357.)  God  will  place  us  as  an  architect  places  the 
stones  of  a  building,  each  one  in  the  spot  to  which  it 
is  adapted.  — Vianney. 

7.  Its  wisdom. 

(1358.)  That  happy  state  of  mind,  so  rarely 
possessed,  in  which  we  can  say,  "I  have  enough," 
IS  the  highest  attainment  of  philosophy.  Happi- 
ness consists,  no*  in  possessing  much,  but  in  being 


content  with   what  we  possess.      He    who   wantj 
little  always  has  enough.  — Zunnurniann^ 

(1359.)  Two  chimneys  stood  near  each  other  on 
separate  houses  ;  one  high,  and  therefore  very 
conspicuous;  the  other  short,  just  jutting  above  'he 
roof. 

*' What  a  contemptible  figure  you  cut,"  said  the 
tall  one,  looking  down  disdainfully  on  his  neigh- 
bour, the  short  chimney. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  the  short  one;  "I  am  but  a 
very  humble  thing,  I  know." 

"  V'ou  need  to  look  up  very  high  to  see  my  top," 
remarked  tlie  tall  chimney. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  little  one. 

"Why,  you  are  hardly  worthy  the  name  of  a 
chimney  at  all,"  observed  the  other;  "you  are 
short  !  " 

"  1  don't  pretend  to  be  greater  than  I  am,  though 
I  am  just  as  high  as  I  ought  to  be  for  my  place," 
replied  the  little  chimney. 

"  As  high  as  you  ought  to  be  !  Well,  that  is 
good,  truly  ;  why,  you  are  little  better  tlian  a  meie 
hole  in  the  roof,"  said  the  tall  one  with  a  loud 
laugh. 

"  It  isn't  becoming  that  all  chimneys  should  be 
of  one  height,"  said  the  little  one  modestly.  "It 
is  fitting  that  some  should  be  high,  like  you  ;  and 
some  low  down,  like  me  ;  and,  as  our  duties  are 
the  same,  we  are  pretty  much  upon  an  equality 
after  all,  whether  tall  or  short." 

The  morning  light  showed  the  short  chimney 
smoking  as  usual.  Where  was  the  tall  one  ?  Alas! 
a  storm  which  had  come  on  suddenly  in  the  night 
hatl  swept  it  from  its  place  because  so  exposed — it 
lay  only  a  heap  of  bricks  on  the  ground. 

"  How  thankful  I  am,"  said  the  little  chimney, 
"  that  I  was  so  low  ;  had  I  been  high,  like  my 
poor  neighbour,  I  might,  and  no  doubt  should, 
iiave  shared  his  unhappy  fate"  (Prov.  xvi.  18). 

— Bcdiden. 

(1360.)  "If  T  cannot  do  any  worthier  service,  it 
is  not  unworthy  to  be  what  I  am,"  said  the  button 
on  the  old  barn  door. 

And  then  it  went  on  to  say  : — 

"  No  doubt  there  are  stronger  and  much  better 
buttons  than  myself;  but,  after  all,  a  button's  a 
button,  whether  of  iron  or  brass,  whilst  I  am  but  a 
plain  wooden  one.  Well,  but  if  my  master  does 
not  despise  me,  and  I  answer  the  purpose  for  which 
buttons  are  designed,  I  ought  to  be  happy  in  being 
what  I  am,  and  thankful  I've  lasted  so  long. 
Many  better  things  than  buttons  wear  out  in  shorter 
time,  and  my  labour  is  much  less  than  theirs.  The 
poor  hinges  have  harder  work,  and  therefore  often 
crack  and  groan  with  the  weight  of  the  hatch 
hanging  upon  them,  and  the  door  itself  would  be 
roughly  served  by  the  wind  and  other  causes,  were 
it  not  for  me  to  fasten  it  ;  and  therefore,  with  all 
my  poverty,  who  am  but  a  humble  wooden  button, 
let  me  be  thankful  I  have  nothing  worse  in  my  lo^ 
to  complain  of,  and  that  I  still  can  do  the  work 
for  which  I  was  at  first  affixed  to  this  post." 

Nothing  of  His  works  is  despised  by  Hira  who 
made  all  things  (Ps.  cxlv,  9);  but,  without  self- 
respect,  an  individual  sinks  himself  lo  the  level  ol 
the  most  abject. 

The  humblest,  but  honest  offices  in  society,  have 
their   good    uses,   and  those  meuibcis  of  tlie  boJy 


CONTENTMENT. 


(    240    ) 


CONTROVERSY. 


vrfiich    seem     to    be    more    feeble    are    necessary 
(i  Cor.  xii.  22). 

Right  views  of  ourselves  will  prove  grounds  for 
humble  thankfulness.  What  have  we  that  we 
"have  not  received"?  Grace  exckides  boasting; 
therefore,  said  St.  Paul,  "  IJy  the  grace  of  God  1  am 
what  I  am."  — Bowden. 

(1361.)  "Ours  is  a  very  humble  business,"  said 
one  of  the  stepping-stones  across  the  stream  which 
went  splashing  and  rattling  along  its  way. 

"  Our  heads  are  above  water,  however ;  that's 
one  thing  in  our  favour,"  said  a  second. 

"True,"  observed  the  first  speaker,  "there  are 
plenty  below  us." 

"  1  judge  we  are  very  serviceable  in  our  place, 
which  is  as  much  as  the  finest  bridge  over  the 
largest  river  in  the  world  can  say  of  itself,"  re- 
marked the  third. 

"It's  just  as  well  to  be  here  as  there,  for  aught 
that  I  can  see,"  observed  another. 

"  My  opinion  is,  that  plenty  are  glad  of  our  help 
in  crossing  the  stream,  and  would  be  sorry  to  lose 
our  assistance,"  said  a  tifth  ;  the  truthfulness  of 
which  last  observation  was  so  apparent,  that  the 
stepping-stones  together  signified  their  assent  ;  and 
therefore  resolved,  in  future,  not  to  be  dissatisfied 
with  their  station,  which,  although  so  humble,  was 
really  so  useful. 

Those  who  are  but  low  in  the  world,  may  find 
sach  as  are  even  lower  than  themselves. 

Not  to  be  entirely  overwhelmed  by  trials  is  a 
mercy  above  many.  It  will  greatly  help  to  re- 
concile the  mind  to  its  lot,  to  reflect  that  there  are 
those  whose  conditions  are  inferior,  and  whose  trials 
are  greater  than  ours. 

Some  do  great  good  that  are  but  little  known  ; 
and  the  poorest,  with  the  grace  and  blessing  of 
God,  may  further  in  some  way  the  progress  of  truth. 

In  every  station  in  life  it  should  be  the  desire  of 
the  heart  to  do  the  will  of  the  Lord,  and  "  by  love 
serve  one  another."  — Bowden. 

(1362.)  "We  travel  far  and  travel  fast,"  said  the 
coach  one  day  to  his  wheels ;  stopping  near  an  old 
milestone  by  the  side  of  the  road,  to  which,  calling, 
it  said  with  a  laugh — 

"Aren't  you  tired  of  always  standing  in  one 
place  ?  " 

"If  you  are  not  tired  with  running,  why  should  I 
De  of  staying?"  answered  the  old  milestone  gravely. 

"Ah  I  but  I  am  on  wheels,  and  my  duties  require 
nimbleness,"  remarked  the  coach. 

"Granted,"  replied  the  milestone,  "but  I  don't 
see  there  is  so  great  a  ditference  between  us,  after 
all.  You  would  be  as  motionless  as  myself  without 
your  horses  ;  and,  as  to  visefulness,  milestones  have 
their  duties  as  well  as  have  stage-coaches.  If  yours 
are  to  carry  passengers  from  place  to  place,  mine 
are  to  afford  travellers  information  on  their  way. 
Besides,  boast  as  you  may,  I  have  sometimes  heard 
of  coaches  upsetting,  and  breaking  down,  and 
wearing  out,  and  being  stopped  and  robbed  ;  but  I 
never  heard  of  such  things  happening  unto  mile- 
stones. Therefore,  friend,  taking  all  into  considera- 
tion, I  fancy  I  am  the  safer  if  the  quieter  of  the  two  ; 
and  if  you  are  happy  in  running,  I  am  contented  in 
staying,  humbly  to  do  the  duties  of  my  station  ;  and 
perhaps  as  honourably  as  yourself,  although  you  are 
a  fast  coach,  and  myself  am  but  a  poor  milestone  on 
the  road." 


All  have  their  places  in  the  world,  and  duties  to 
perlorm  ;  ana 

"They  also  sftpre  that  only  stand  and  wait." 

Great    boasters    are    oftentimes    the    least    secuN 
(Eccles.  ix.  II  ;  Prov,  xvi.  19).  — Boioaen, 

8.  Its  blessedness. 

(1363.)  One  observes  concerning  manna,  when 
the  people  were  contented  with  the  allowance  thai 
God  gave  them,  then  it  was  very  good  ;  but  when 
they  would  not  be  content  with  God's  allowance, 
but  would  be  gathering  more,  then,  says  the  icxt, 
"  there  were  worms  in  it."  So,  when  we  are  con- 
tent with  our  conditions,  and  that  which  God 
disposeth  of  us  to  be  in,  there's  a  blessing  in  it  ; 
but  if  we  must  needs  be  reaching  out  for  more  than 
God  hath  allotted,  or  to  keep  it  longer  than  God 
would  have  us  to  have  it,  then  there  will  be  worms 
in  it,  a  canker  to  eat  it,  a  moth  to  fret  it — nothing 
at  all  that  is  good.  — Bitnougks,  1 599-1 646. 

(1364.)  The  soul  which  is  possessed  of  this  rich 
treasure  of  contentment,  is  like  Noah  in  the  ark, 
that  can  sing  in  the  midst  of  a  deluge. 

—  Hanson,  1696. 

(1365.)  The  contented  heart  is  never  out  of  heart. 
Contenlation  is  a  golden  shield,  that  doth  beat  back 
discouragements.  Humility  is  like  the  lead  to  the  net, 
which  keeps  the  soul  down  when  it  is  rising  through 
passion  ;  and  contentment  is  like  the  cork,  which 
keeps  the  heart  up  when  the  heart  is  sinking 
through  discouragements.  Contentment  is  the 
great  under-prop  :  it  is  like  the  beam  which  bears 
whatever  weight  is  laid  upon  it ;  nay,  it  is  like  a 
rock  that  breaks  the  waves.  — IVatson,  1696. 

(1366.)  Contentment  is  a  pearl  of  great  price, 
and  whoever  procures  it  at  the  expense  of  ten  thou- 
sand desires  makes  a  wise  and  happy  purchase. 

— Bal^'iiy,  1686-1746. 


CONTROVERSY. 

1.  Is  often  foolisli  and  unprofltaMe. 

(1367.)  As  in  the  burning  of  some  wet  fuel,  we 
cannot  see  the  fire  for  smoke  ;  so  the  light  of  the 
Scriptures  is  dusked  by  the  vapours  of  controversies. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(1368.)  Some  spend  their  time  in  nice  questions, 
as,  what  Christ  disputed  of  amongst  the  doctors? 
Where  Paradise  stood  ?  In  what  part  of  the  world 
is  local  hell  ?  What  became  of  Moses'  body  ? 
How  many  orders  and  degrees  of  elect  spirits  ? 
These  curious  persons,  the  further  they  go,  the 
nearer  they  approach  a  sun  that  blinds  them. 
Others  spend  their  time  in  circumstantial  contro- 
versies, when  in  the  interim  the  essentials  of  religion 
are  laid  by.  Such  talk  is  but  a  wasting  of  time, 
and  those  that  sweat  at  it  are  but  laborious  loiterers  ; 
like  those  that  take  great  pains  to  crack  a  date- 
stone,  which,  when  they  have  done,  affords  them  no 
kernel.  Would  it  not  be  counted  a  piece  of  great 
folly  for  a  man  that  had  a  wound  near  some  vital  part, 
to  be  very  busy  in  laying  a  plaster  on  his  scratched 
tinger,  while  the  other  lay  unregarded  ?  Were  it 
not  a  piece  of  strange  madness,  when  the  enemy  is 
at  the  walls,  and  the  town  every  moment  in  danger 


CONTROVERSY. 


(    241    ) 


CONTROVERSY. 


of  being  stormed,  the  bullets  flying  thick  about  the 
streets,  for  the  people  within  to  be  sitting  still  and 
consulting,  whether  a  musket  would  carry  further 
than  a  trunk,  or  whether  more  are  killed  with 
bullets  or  arrows?  Truly,  such  folly,  such  madness, 
is  it  to  employ  ourselves  about  needless  discourse 
iLout  the  world  or  superficial  things,  when  our 
inestimable  souls  are  continually  in  danger  of  being 
surprised  and  slain.  — Swiiniock,  1673. 

(1369.)  Many  controversies  of  these  times  grow 
up  about  religion,  as  suckers  from  the  root  and 
limbs  of  a  fruit  tree,  which  spend  the  vital  sap  that 
should  make  fruit.  — Havel,  1630- 1691. 

(1370.)  There  are  some  controversies  prickly  like 
brambles,    and    apt   to   scratch  those    that    handle 
them,  bui.  yielding  no  savoury  or  wholesome  fruit. 
— BairoWy  1630- 167  7. 

(137 1.)  Three  natural  philosophers  go  out  into 
the  forest  and  find  a  nightingale's  nest,  and  forth- 
with they  begin  to  discuss  the  habits  of  the  bird,  its 
size,  its  Colour,  and  the  number  of  eggs  it  lays  ;  and 
one  pulls  out  of  his  pocket  a  treatise  of  Buffon,  and 
another  of  Cuvier,  and  another  of  Audubon,  and 
they  read  and  dispute  till  at  length  the  quarrel  runs 
so  high  over  the  empty  nest,  that  they  tear  each 
other's  leaves,  and  get  red  in  the  face,  and  the  woods 
ring  with  their  conflict  ;  when,  lo  !  out  of  the  green 
shade  of  a  neighbouring  thicket,  the  bird  itself 
rested,  and,  disturbed  by  these  rude  noises,  begins 
lo  sing.  At  first  its  song  is  soft  and  low,  and  then 
it  rises  a.id  swells,  and  waves  of  melody  float  up 
over  the  trees,  and  fill  the  air  with  tremulous  music, 
and  all  the  forest  doth  hush  ;  and  the  entranced 
philosojihers,  subdued  and  ashamed  of  their  quarrel, 
shut  their  books  and  walk  home  without  a  word. 

So  men  who  around  the  empty  sepulchre  of 
Christ  have  wrangled  about  the  forms  of  religion, 
about  creeds,  and  doctrines,  and  ordinances,  when 
Christ  Himself,  disturbed  by  their  discords,  sings  to 
them,  out  of  heaven,  of  love,  and  peace,  and  joy  in 
the  Holy  Ghost,  are  ashamed  of  their  conflicts,  and 
go  quietly  and  meekly  to  their  duties.       — Backer. 

2.  Is  sometimes  necessary. 

(1372.)  It  is  in  the  Church,  as  it  is  with  nations; 
war  must  sometimes  be  carried  on,  in  order  to 
establish  a  sound  and  durable  peace  at  last. 

—  Toplady,  1 740-1778. 

('373-)  Controversy,  though  always  an  evil  in 
itself,  is  sometimes  a  necessary  evil.  To  give  up 
everything  worth  contending  about,  in  order  to 
prevent  hurtful  contention,  is,  for  the  sake  of 
extirpating  noxious  weeds,  to  condemn  the  field 
to  perpetual  sterility.  Yet,  if  the  principle  that 
it  is  an  evil  only  to  be  incurred  when  necessary 
for  the  sake  of  some  important  good  were  acted 
upon,  the  two  classes  of  controversies  mentioned 
by  Bacon  would  certainly  be  excluded.  The  first 
controversy,  on  subjects  too  deep  and  mysterious,  is 
indeed  calculated  to  gender  strife.  For,  in  a  case 
where  correct  knowledge  is  impossible  to  any  and 
where  all  are,  in  fact,  in  the  wrong,  there  is  but 
little  likelihood  of  agreement  :  like  men  who  should 
rashly  venture  to  explore  a  strange  land  in  uUer 
darkness,  they  will  be  scattered  into  a  thousand 
devious  ■jiaths.     The  second  class  of  subjects  that 


would   be    excluded    by   this    principle  are  those 
which  relate  to  matters  too  minute  and  trifling. 

—  VVhately. 

S.  Is  better  than  Ignorant  indifference. 

{1374.)  The  servants  of  God  do  mind  the  matter 
of  religion  more  seriously  than  others  do  ;  and' 
therefore  their  differences  are  made  more  observ- 
able to  the  world.  They  cannot  make  light  of  the 
smallest  truth  of  God  ;  and  this  may  be  some  occa- 
sion of  their  indifference ;  whereas  the  ungodly 
difl'er  not  about  religion,  because  they  have  heartily 
no  religion  to  differ  about.  Is  this  a  unity  and 
peace  to  be  desired  ?  I  had  rather  have  the  discord 
of  the  saints,  than  such  a  concord  of  the  wicked. 
They  are  so  careful  about  their  duty  that  they  are 
afraid  of  missing  it  in  the  least  particular  ;  and 
this  (with  their  imperfect  light)  is  the  reason  of 
their  disputings  about  these  matters.  But  you 
that  are  careless  of  your  duty,  can  easily  agree  upon 
a  way  of  sin,  or  take  anything  that  comes  next  to 
hand.  They  honour  the  worship  of  God  so  much, 
that  they  would  not  have  anything  out  of  order; 
but  you  set  so  little  by  it,  that  you  will  be  of  the 
religion  that  the  king  is  of,  let  it  be  what  it  will  be; 
and  it  is  easy  to  agree  in  such  an  ungodly,  careless 
course.  Astronomers  have  many  controversies  about 
the  positions  and  motions  of  the  heavens,  and  all 
philosophers  have  many  controversies  about  the 
matter  of  their  sciences  ;  when  ignorant  men  have 
none  of  their  controversies,  because  they  understand 
noi,  and  therefore  regard  not  the  things  that  the 
learned  differ  about :  and  will  you  think  ever  the 
better  of  ignorance,  or  ever  the  worse  of  learning 
for  this?  The  controversies  of  lawyers,  of  his- 
torians, chronologers,  geographers,  physicians,  and 
such  like,  do  never  trouble  the  brains  of  the  igno- 
rant ;  but  for  all  that,  I  had  rather  be  in  controversy 
with  the  learned,  than  without  such  controversy 
with  you.  If  you  scatter  a  handful  of  gold  or 
diamonds  in  the  street,  perhaps  men  will  scramble 
for  them,  and  fall  out  about  them,  when  swine  will 
trample  on  them  and  quietly  despise  them,  becaur,e 
they  do  not  know  their  worth;  will  you  therefore 
think  that  swine  are  happier  than  men  ?  The  living 
are  vexed  with  strifes  and  controversies,  about 
almost  all  the  matters  in  the  world,  when  the  dead 
carcases  in  the  grave  lie  still  in  peace,  and  are  not 
troubled  with  any  of  these  differences;  will  you 
say  therefore  that  the  dead  corpse  is  happier  than 
the  living  ?  It  is  a  death  in  sin,  and  compliance 
with  the  times  and  carnal  interest,  and  a  disesteem 
of  spiritual  holy  things,  that  is  the  cause  of  the 
agreement  of  the  wicked.  But  the  godly  know  the 
worth  of  the  things  that  you  set  light  by,  and 
therefore  make  a  greater  matter  of  them  than  you, 
and  therefore  no  wonder  if  they  have  more  debates 
and  controversies  about  them. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

4.  Its  advantages. 

(1375.)  There  is  no  learned  man  but  will  confess 
he  hath  much  profited  by  reading  controversies, — 
his  senses  awakened,  his  judgment  sharpened,  and 
the  truth  which  he  holds  more  firmly  established. 
If  then  it  be  profitable  for  him  to  read,  why  sliould 
it  not  at  least  be  tolerable  and  free  lor  his  ad  ver- 
sary  to  write?  In  logic,  they  leach  that  contraries 
laid  together  more  evidently  appear  :  it  icilows, 
then,  that  all  controversy  being  permitted  false- 
hood  will   appear  more   false,  and    truth   the  more 


CONTROVERSY, 


(     242     ) 


CONTROVERSY. 


true ;    which   must   needs    conduce   much   to    the 
general  confirmation  of  an  implicit  truth. 

— Milton,  1 608- 1 674. 

(1376.)  However  some  may  affect  to  dislike 
controversy,  it  can  never  be  of  ultimate  disadvantage 
to  the  interests  of  truth  or  the  hajipiness  of  man- 
kind. Where  it  is  indulged  to  its  full  extent,  a 
multitude  of  ridiculous  opinions  will  no  doubt  be 
obtruded  upon  the  public  ;  but  any  ill  influence 
they  may  produce  cannot  continue  long,  as  they 
are  sure  to  be  opposed  with  at  least  equal  ability 
and  that  superior  advantage  which  is  ever  atten- 
dant on  truth.  The  colours  with  which  wit  or 
eloquence  may  have  adorned  a  false  system  will 
gradually  die  away,  sophistry  be  detected,  and 
e%'erything  estimated  at  length  according  to  its 
value.  — Robert  Hall,  \-]b/Sf-lZT,\. 

6.  Should  not  be  engaged  in  rashly. 

(1377.)  When  you  have  nothing  to  say,  say 
nothing  :  a  weak  defence  strengthens  your  op- 
ponent, and  silence  is  less  injurious  than  a  weak 
reply.  — CoUon,  1832. 

6.  In  what  spirit  It  is  to  be  conducted. 

(1378.)  A  good  man  should  not  be  very  willing, 
when  his  Lord  comes,  to  be  found  so  doing,  and, 
as  it  were,  beating  his  fello^v-sei^  iits.  And  all 
controversy,  as  it  is  usually  managed,  is  little 
better.  A  good  mar  would  be  loath  to  be  taken 
out  of  the  world,  reeking  hot  from  a  sharp  con- 
tention with  a  perverse  adversary,  and  not  a  little 
out  of  countenance  to  find  himself  in  this  temper, 
translated  into  the  calm  and  peaceable  regions  of 
the  blessed,  where  nothing  but  perfect  charity  and 
good- will  reign  for  ever. 

—  Till ot son,  1 630- 1 694. 

(1379.)  We  must  rejoice  when  we  see  the  golden 
chain  which  links  the  different  members  ol  the  body 
of  Christ  together  is  not  weakened  ;  that  amidst 
many  differences  of  opinion  among  us,  there  is  still 
a  sound  practical  feeling  of  love  to  God  and  good- 
will to  men.  If,  therefore,  we  see  Christian  love 
struggling  against  the  convulsions  of  the  moment, 
and  that  it  is  not  subdued  by  these  convulsions,  then 
we  may  believe,  as  the  wind  which  shakes  the  oak 
of  our  country  only  strengthens  and  increases  the 
nourishment  it  derives  from  the  roots,  so  all  disputes 
and  agitations  without  will  only  strengthen  the  great 
work  of  religion  in  our  hearts,  and  give  a  lovelier 
influence  to  the  blessed  gospel  of  our  Lord. 

— Chancellor  Kaikes. 

(1380.)  Controversy  may  for  the  present  be  need- 
ful ;  but  there  never  was,  and  never  will  be,  need 
for  its  rancour.  We  may  have  all  its  victories  with- 
out its  virulence  ;  and  its  truths  without  its  personal 
tragedies;  and  that  will  be  the  most  wholesome 
State  of  the  Church  when  discussions  wax  kindly, 
and  controversies  are  conducted  in  the  spirit,  not 
of  party  feuds,  but  of  friendly  investigations.  Iron 
sharpens  iron  ;  and  the  day  may  come  when,  like 
honest  experimenters  in  physics,  earnest  inquirers 
in  theology  will  employ  their  respective  acumen,  not 
in  perplexing  one  anotiier,  but  in  pursuing  joint 
researches  ;  and  will  find  their  full  reward,  not  in  a 
bewildered  public,  but  in  a  text  clearly  interpreted, 
and  a  doctrine  finally  demonstrated,  in  a  long  debate 
concluded,  aiKi  a  ■•■eary  question  for  ever  set  at  rest. 
— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 


7.  Heat  Inseparable  from  it 

(138 1.)  In  this  imperfect  state  it  is  perhaps  as 
impossible  for  two  parties,  as  it  is  for  flint  and  steel, 
to  come  into  collision  without  exciting  some  sparks 
of  fire.  It  were  foolish  to  expect  that  there  should 
be  nothing  said  or  done  in  a  time  of  religious  con- 
troversy, which  good  men  will  see  no  reason  after- 
wards to  regret  and  to  recall  ;  for  that  were  to  expect 
lesser  men  to  be  greater  than  apostles — holier  than 
Saint  Paul  and  Barnabas,  between  whom,  as  we  are 
told,  there  rose  a  "sharp  contention."  Nor  even 
after  the  controversies  have  ceased,  need  we  wonder 
that  their  unhappy  influences  do  not  always,  and  all 
at  once,  cease  with  them.  That  were  such  a  miracle 
as  was  only  seen  in  Galilee,  when  at  Christ's  voice 
the  wind  and  the  waves  went  down  at  once,  and 
together.  It  is  with  human  passion  as  with  the  sea, 
when  violently  agitated,  stirred  by  some  storm  to 
its  briny  depths,  it  continues,  hours  after  the  wind 
has  ceased,  to  swell,  and  heave,  and  roll  its  foaming 
breakers  on  the  beach.  We  are  not  to  wonder  that 
wounds  received  in  controversy,  like  those  received 
in  battle,  take  some  time  to  heal.  It  is  reasonable 
to  expect  that,  though,  as  it  were  a  bad  sign  of  a 
man's  constitution,  if  his  wounds,  however  deep, 
turned  into  running  sores,  there  is  something  wrong, 
unhallowed,  and  unchristian  in  our  spirit,  if  giace 
does  not  soften  the  asperities,  and  time  close  the 
wounds  of  controversy.  — Gutnrie. 

8.  Whose  Judgments   are   to   bo  regarded  aa 

authoritative. 

(1382.)  In  controversies  which  depend  oa  the 
experience  of  particular  Christians  or  of  the  Church, 
regard  most  the  judgment  of  the  most  experienced, 
and  prefer  the  judgment  of  the  later  ages  of  the 
Church  before  the  judgment  of  less  experienced  ages 
(except  the  Apostolic  age  that  had  the  greater  help 
of  the  Spirit).  An  ancient  experienced  Christian  or 
divine  is  more  to  be  regarded  in  many  points,  which 
require  experience,  than  many  of  the  younger  sort, 
that  are  yet  more  zealous  and  of  quicker  understand- 
ing and  expression  than  the  elder.  So  those  that 
we  call  the  Fathers  or  ancients,  were  indeed  in  the 
younger  ages  of  the  Church,  and  we  that  are  fallen 
into  the  latter  and  more  experienced  age,  have  all 
the  helps  of  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  the  ages 
that  were  before  us  ;  and  therefore  God  will  require 
at  our  hands  an  account  of  these  greater  talents 
which  we  have  received.  As  it  were  inexcusable 
now  in  a  physician,  that  hath  the  help  of  such 
voluminous  institutions,  observations,  and  experi- 
ments of  former  ages,  to  know  no  more  than  those 
former  ones  that  had  no  such  helps  ;  so  would  it 
be  as  inexcusable  for  this  present  age  of  the  Church 
to  be  no  wiser  than  those  former  ages. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1383.)  In  controversies  which  depend  most  upon 
skill  in  the  languages,  philosophy,  or  other  parts  of 
common  learning,  prefer  the  judgment  of  a  few  that 
are  the  most  learned  in  those  matters,  before  the 
judgment  of  the  most  ancient,  or  the  most  godly, 
or  of  the  greatest  numbers,  or  even  whole  churchee 
that  are  unlearned.  In  this  case  neither  numbers, 
nor  antiquity,  nor  godliness,  will  serve  their  turn:  but 
as  one  clear  eye  will  see  farther  than  ten  thousand  that 
are  purblind,  so  one  Jerome  or  Origen  may  judge 
better  of  a  translation,  or  the  grammatical  sense  of 
a  text,  than  a  hundred  of  the  other  Fathers  could 
Cne  man  that  understandeth  a  language  is  fitter  to 


CONTROVERSY 


(     243     ) 


C0N7R0]'ERSy. 


judge  of  it  than  a  wliole  nation  that  understandeth  it 
not.  One  philosopher  is  titter  to  jiul_c;e  of  a  philo- 
sophical quesdon  than  a  thousand  illiterate  persons. 
Every  man  is  most  to  be  regarded  in  the  matters 
which  he  is  best  acquainted  with. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

9.  The  Ignorant  are  usually  the  most  confident. 

(13S4. )  None  so  bold  as  the  blind.  "The  fool 
rageth  and  is  confident."  If  he  be  in  an  error  or 
entangled  in  any  evil  cause  or  way,  you  know  not 
what  to  say  to  him  for  his  recovery.  The  less  he 
knows,  the  more  he  despiseth  knowledge,  and  sets 
his  face  against  his  teachers,  as  if  they  were  but 
fools  to  him,  and  scorns  to  be  ruled  by  such  as 
they  whom  God  hath  made  his  rulers.  Will  you 
go  to  dispute  or  debate  the  case  with  one  of  these  ? 
\Vhy  be  sure  of  it,  they  will  put  you  down  and 
have  the  day.  He  will  go  away  and  boast  that 
you  could  not  convince  iiim  :  as  if  a  madman 
should  boast  that  the  physicians  could  not  all  of 
them  cure  him.  He  that  speaks  nonsense  saith 
nothing  while  he  seems  to  speak.  And  there  is  no 
refuting  a  man  that  saith  nothing.  Nonsense  is 
unanswerable,  if  there  be  but  enough  of  it.  Who 
would  disj^ute  against  a  pair  of  bagpipes,  or 
against  a  company  of  boys  that  hoot  at  him  ?  If 
you  will  make  a  match  at  barking  or  biting,  a  cur 
will  be  too  hard  for  you.  And  if  you  will  try  your 
skill  or  strength  at  kicking,  a  horse  will  be  too  hard 
for  you.  And  if  you  will  contend  with  multitudes 
of  words,  or  by  rage  and  confidence,  a  fool  will  be 
too  hard  for  you  (as  you  may  see  by  Solomon's 
descriptions,  and  by  daily  experience).  But  if  you 
will  dispute  by  equal,  sober  reasoning,  it  is  only 
a  wiser  man  by  evidence  of  truth  that  can  overcome 
you  ;  and  to  be  thus  overcome  is  better  than  to  con- 
quer ;  for  you  have  the  better  if  truth  overcome  you, 
and  you  have  the  worse  if  you  overcome  the  truth, 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

10.  Is  not  confined  to  Christians. 

(1385.)  Lawyers  contend  about  law,  and  princes 
about  dominions,  which  others  mind  not,  and 
religious  persons  strive  about  religion,  and  what 
wonder  is  this  ?  It  doth  but  show  that  they  value 
their  souls  and  religion,  and  that  their  under- 
standings are  yet  imperfect. 

— BaxLr,  1615-1691. 

(13S6.)  Is  there  any  of  the  sciences  which  afford 
not  matter  of  controversy?  If  the  laws  of  the 
land  did  yield  no  matter  of  controversy,  lawyers 
and  judges  would  have  less  of  that  work  than  now 
they  have.  And  was  there  not  greater  diversity  of 
opinions  and  worship  among  the  heathens  than 
ever  was  among  Christians  ? 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1387.)  The  difiTerences  among  Christians  are 
nothing  in  comparison  of  the  differences  among 
heathens.  The  truth  is,  religion  is  such  an  illus- 
trious, noble  thing,  that  dissensions  about  it,  like 
spots  in  the  moon,  are  much  more  noted  by  the 
world  than  about  any  lower,  common  matters. 
Men  may  raise  controversies  in  philosophy,  physic, 
astronomy,  chronology,  and  yet  it  maketh  no  such 
noise,  nor  causeth  much  offence  or  hatred  in  the 
world  ;  but  the  devil  and  the  corrupted  nature  have 
Buch  an  enmity  against  religion,  that  they  are  glad 
to   pick    any   quarrel  against   it,    and   blame  it  for 


the  imperfections  of  all  that  learn  it,  and  should 
practise  it.  As  if  grammar  should  be  accused  for 
every  cnor  or  fault  that  the  boys  are  guilty  of  in 
learning  it  ;  or  the  law  were  to  be  accused  for 
all  the  tlifferences  of  lawyers,  or  contentions  of  the 
peojjle  ;  or  physic  were  to  be  accused  for  all  the 
dillerences  or  errors  of  physicians  ;  or  meat  and 
drink  were  culpable  because  of  men's  excesses  and 
diseases.  There  is  no  doctrine  or  practice  in  the 
world  by  which  true  unity  and  concord  can  be 
maintained,  but  by  seriousness  in  true  religion. 
And  when  all  contention  cometh  for  want  of 
religion,  it  is  impudence  to  blame  religion  for  it, 
which  is  the  only  cure.         — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

11.  Ahsurdity  of  the  Interference  of  the  ungodly 
In  religious  controversies. 

(13S8.)  It  would  make  a  man's  heart  ache  to 
hear  wretched  sinners  talk  of  our  differences  about 
bishops,  and  ceremonies,  and  common-prayer,  and 
holy-days,  and  infant  baptism,  and  the  like,  that  are 
dead  in  their  sins,  and  are  yet  disagreed  from  us  in 
the  very  bent  of  heart  and  life.  Alas  !  sirs,  you 
have  other  matters  than  these  first  to  talk  of  and 
trouble  yourselves  with.  A  man  that  is  ready  to 
die  of  a  consumption  should  not  be  taking  care  to 
cure  the  warts  or  freckles  in  his  face.  We  have 
greater  matters  wherein  we  differ  from  you,  than 
kneeling  at  the  sacrament,  or  observation  of  days, 
or  other  ceremonies,  or  doubtful  opinions  in  matters 
of  doctrine.  Let  us  first  be  agreed  all  to  serve 
one  master,  and  seek  one  end,  and  be  ruled  by  one 
law,  and  hate  known  sin,  and  live  a  holy  life,  and 
then  we  bhall  be  ready  to  treat  with  you  about  a 
further  agreement.  But  to  talk  of  small  matters, 
when  we  differ  in  the  greatest  matters  in  the  world, 
is  as  much  as  your  souls  are  worth,  and  in  mattei-s 
which  heaven  or  hell  lieth  on;  this  is  but  childish 
trifling,  and  whatever  we  may  do  for  the  peace  of 
the  Church  with  such,  yet  to  ourselves  that  will  be 
small  advantage.  — Baxter,  1615-1691, 

12.  Received  truths  not  to  be  subjected  to  con- 
troversy. 

(1389.)  It  is  nowise  a  safe  or  advised  cour'e 
(except  in  case  of  necessary  defence)  to  subject 
received  opinions  to  the  hazardous  trial  of  a 
tumultuary  conflict,  their  credit  being  better  upheld 
by  a  stately  reservedness  than  by  a  popular  forward- 
ness of  tliscourse  ;  as  buildings  stand  fastest  that  are 
never  shaken,  and  those  possessions  remain  most 
secure  that  are  never  called  in  question. 

— Ban-ow,  1630-1677. 

13.  Its  causes. 

(1390.)  Those  subjects,  which  are  too  difficult  in 
their  very  nature  for  our  powers,  are  the  source  of 
very  many  of  the  unhappy  controversies  which 
agitate  the  Church.  The  mind  is  not  capable  of 
grasping  fully  the  whole  truth.  Each  side  seizes  a 
part,  and  building  its  own  inferences  upon  these 
partial  premises,  they  soon  find  that  their  own 
opinions  come  into  collision  with  those  of  their 
neighbours.  Moralists  tell  the  following  story, 
which  very  happily  illustrates  this  species  of  contro- 
versy. In  the  days  of  knight-errantry,  when 
individual  adventurers  rode  about  the  world  seek- 
ing employment  in  their  profession,  which  was  that 
of  the  sword,  two  strong  and  warlike  knights. 
coming  from  opposite  directions,  met  each  other  at 


CONTROVERSY. 


(    244     ) 


CONVERSION', 


a  place  where  a  statue  was  erected.  On  the  arm  of 
the  statue  was  a  shield,  one  side  of  which  was  iron, 
the  other  of  brass  ;  and  as  our  two  heroes  reined  up 
their  steeds,  the  statue  was  upon  the  side  of  the 
road,  between  them,  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
shield  presented  its  surface  of  brass  to  the  one,  and 
of  iron  to  the  other.  They  immediately  fell  into 
conversation  in  regard  to  the  structure  before  them, 
when  one  incidentally  alluding  to  the  iron  shield, 
the  other  corrected  him,  by  remarking  that  it  was 
of  brass.  The  knight  upon  the  iron  side  of  course 
did  not  uxeive  the  correction.  He  maintained  that 
he  was  right,  and  after  carrying  on  the  controversy 
for  a  short  time  by  harsh  language,  they  gradually 
grew  angry,  and  soon  drew  their  swords.  A  long 
and  furious  combat  ensued,  and  when  at  last  both 
were  exhausted,  unhorsed,  and  lying  wounded 
upon  the  ground,  they  found  that  the  whole  cause 
of  their  trouble  was,  that  they  could  not  see  bolh 
sides  of  a  shield  at  a  time.  Now  religious  truth  is 
sometimes  such  a  shield,  luith  various  aspects,  and 
the  human  mind  cannot  clearly  see  all  at  a  time. 
Two  Christian  knights,  clad  in  strong  armour,  come 
up  to  Rome  object,  as  moral  agency,  and  view  it 
from  opposite  stations.  One  looks  at  the  power 
which  man  has  over  his  heart,  and  laying  his 
foundation  there,  he  builds  up  his  theory  upon  that 
alone.  Another  looks  upon  the  Divine  power  in  the 
human  heart,  and  laying  his  own  separate  lounda- 
tion,  builds  up  his  theory.  The  human  mind  is 
incapable,  in  fact,  of  grasping  the  subject— of 
understanding  how  man  can  be  free  and  accountable, 
and  yet  be  so  much  under  the  control  of  God  as  the 
Bible  represents.  Our  Christian  soldiers,  however, 
do  not  consider  this.  Each  takes  his  own  view, 
and  carries  it  out  so  far  as  to  interfere  with  that  of 
the  other.  They  converse  about  it— they  talk  more 
and  more  warmly— then  a  long  controversy  ensues 
—  their  dispute  agitates  the  Church  and  divides 
brethren  hom  brethren;  and  why?  Why,  just 
because  our  Creator  has  so  formed  us  that  we 
cannot,  from  one  point  of  view,  see  both  sides  of 
the  shield  at  the  same  time.  The  combatants,  after 
a  long  battle,  are  both  unhorsed  and  wounded; 
their  usefulness,  and  their  Christian  character,  is 
injured,  or  destroyed.  —Jacob  Abbott. 

14.  Wliat -would  end  It. 

(139 1.)  If  we  saw  God,  and  heaven,  and  hell 
before  us,  do  you  not  think  it  would  effectually 
reconcile  our  differences  and  heal  our  unbrotherly 
exasperations  and  '.visions?  Would  it  not  hold 
the  hands  that  itch  to  be  using  violence  against 
those  that  are  not  in  all  things  of  their  minds? 
What  abundance  of  vain  controversies  would  it 
reconcile  !  As  the  coming  in  of  the  master  doth 
part  the  fray  among  the  school  boys  ;  so  the  sight  of 
God  would  frighten  us  from  contentions  or  unciiarit- 
able  violence.  This  would  teach  us  how  to  preach 
and  pray  better  than  a  storm  at  sea  can  do,  which 
yet  doth  it  better  than  some  in  jnosperity  will  learn. 
Did  we  see  what  we  preach  of,  it  would  drive  us 
out  of  our  man-pleasing,  self-seeking,  sleepy  strain, 
as  the  cudgel  drives  the  beggar  from  his  canting, 
and  the  breaking  loose  of  the  bear  did  teach  the 
afiected  cripple  to  find  his  legs  and  cast  away  his 
crutches.  1  would  desire  no  better  outward  help  to 
end  our  controversies  about  indifferent  modes  of 
worship  than  a  sight  of  the  things  of  which  we 
sjv-ak.  —Baxter,  1615-1691. 


CONVERSION. 

I.    IN  IV HA  T  IT  CONSISTS. 

(1392.)  I  cannot  give  a  more  just  idea  of  the 
new  principle  which  the  Spirit  of  God  imparts  to 
us  in  our  conversion  than  by  comparing  it  with  the 
modern  invention  of  the  compass.  Before  the 
invention  of  the  compass,  mariners  in  a  dark  night 
were  unable  with  any  precision  to  direct  their 
course.  Whilst  they  were  in  sight  of  land,  or  had 
a  view  of  the  sun  or  stars,  they  could  proceed  with 
some  degree  of  certainty  :  but,  in  the  absence  of 
these,  they  were  altogether  at  a  loss.  But  it  is  not 
so  with  mariners  at  this  time.  By  the  help  of  the 
compass,  they  can  by  night  steer  the  ship  as  well  as 
in  the  day  ;  having  constantly  at  hand,  as  it  were, 
a  sure  directory  :  now  this  is  the  difterence  between 
the  natural  and  the  spiritual  man  ;  the  natural  man 
has  reason  and  conscience,  which,  to  a  certain 
degree,  are  capable  of  directing  his  path.  But 
numberless  occasions  arise  whereon  they  fail  him 
utterly.  The  spiritual  man  has  superadded  to 
these  a  new  and  living  principle  abiding  in  him  ; 
a  principle  infused  in  him  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and 
in  exact  accordance  with  His  mind  and  will  :  and 
by  this  principle  the  Spirit  Himself  guides  him  in 
all  his  ways.  — Salter. 

(1393.)  A  man  often  passes  through  many  stages 
before  he  becomes  truly  converted  to  God.  When 
he  is  first  awakened  to  serious  impressions,  and  sees 
his  folly  of  pursuing  intently  worldly  things,  to  the 
neglect  of  the  more  durable  riches,  he  resembles  a 
boy  emerging  from  his  childhood,  who  throws 
aside  his  trifles  and  playthings  for  amusements  of  a 
higher  and  more  intellectual  kind.  He  now  sets 
himself  with  all  diligence  to  working  out  his  own 
salvation  in  his  own  strength  ;  multiplies  his  re- 
ligious duties,  and  reforms  his  bad  habits  ;  yet  all 
this  while  he  is  like  one  who  has  been  employed  in 
new-painting  and  varnishing  a  wooden  statue,  it  has 
no  life  within.  But  when  the  Holy  Spirit  influences 
his  heart,  and  "reveals  Christ  in  him,"  he  is  in  the 
state  of  one  who  has  awakened  from  a  dream 
(in  which  he  has  been  acting  a  fictitious  part),  to 
live  and  move,  and  use  all  his  faculties  in  reality, 
and  enter  on  the  great  business  of  life. 

— Salter. 

(1394.)  I  passed  by  a  piece  of  common  which 
some  lord  of  the  manor  or  other  had  been  enclosing, 
as  those  rascals  always  will  if  they  can,  to  rob  the 
poor  of  their  rights,  and  iilch  every  morsel  of  green 
grass  upon  which  we  may  freely  plant  our  feet ;  but 
I  noticed  that  the  enclosers  had  only  railed  it 
round,  but  had  not  dug  it  up,  nor  ploughed  it,  nor 
planted  it ;  and  though  they  had  cut  down  the 
gorse,  it  was  coming  up  again  ;  of  course  it  would, 
for  it  was  a  common  still,  and  a  bit  of  fence  or  rail 
could  not  alter  it  ;  the  furze  would  come  peeping 
up,  and  erelong  the  enclosure  would  be  as  wild  as 
the  heath  outside.  But  this  is  not  God's  way  of 
working.  When  God  encloseth  a  heart  that  has 
laid  common  with  sin,  does  He  cut  down  the  thorns 
and  the  briers  and  then  plant  fir  trees?  (Isaiah  Iv. 
13.)  No,  no;  but  He  so  changeth  the  soil,  that 
from  the  ground  itself,  from  its  own  vitality,  there 
spontaneously  starts  up  the  fir  tree  and  the  myrtle. 
This  is  a  most  wonderful  result.  You  take  a  man 
and  leave  him  at  heart  the  same  godless  man.  You 
mend  his  habits  ;  you  make  him  go  to  church,  o» 
,  to  the  meeting-house  ;  you  clothe  him  ;  you  break 


CONVERSION. 


(    245    ; 


CONVERSION. 


his  wine  bottle  ;  you  rinse  his  mouth  out  so  that  he 
does  not  tallc  so  filthily  ;  and  altogether  you  say, 
"  He's  now  a  respectable  man."  Ah  !  but  il  these 
outward  respectabilities  and  rightnesses  are  only 
skin  deep,  you  have  done  nothing.  At  least  what 
you  have  done  is  no  great  wonder  ;  there  is  nothing 
in  it  to  be  proud  of.  But  suppose  this  man  can  be 
so  changed,  that  just  as  freely  as  he  was  wont  to 
curse  he  now  delights  to  pray,  and  just  as  heartily 
as  he  hated  religion  he  now  hnds  pleasure  in  it,  and 
just  as  earnestly  as  he  sinned  he  now  delights  to  be 
cbetlient  to  the  Lord  ;  ah  !  then,  this  is  a  wonder, 
a  miracle  which  man  cannot  accomplish,  a  marvel 
which  only  the  grace  of  Gnd  can  work,  and  which 
gives  to  God  His  highest  glory.  — Spurgeon. 

(I395-)  There  is  no  difference  in  a  piano,  whe- 
ther a  tyro  or  a  Beethoven  plays  upon  it ;  the 
difference  is  in  their  power  of  combinalion  :  so  in 
us,  when  converted  we  have  the  same  old  faculties. 

— Beecher. 

IL    IS  POSSIBLE. 

(1396.)  An   entire    change   may   take  place,   so 

radical,  that  a  man  will  hate  what  he  once  loved, 
and  love  what  he  once  hated.  Human  character 
is  capable  of  this  change.  It  is  not  an  uncommon, 
we  were  about  to  say  not  a  difficult,  step  Irom  one 
extreme  of  like  or  dislike  to  another.  Who  has 
not  found  himself  loving  the  company,  services, 
and  surrounding  circumstances  which  he  once 
loathed  ?  Who  has  not  followed  back  with  equal 
zest  and  pleasure  the  path  he  walked  in  the  out- 
ward journey  of  life?  A  young  man,  who  had 
wasted  a  large  patrimony  in  a  profligate  life,  while 
hanging  over  the  brow  of  a  precipice  from  which  he 
had  determined  to  throw  himself,  and  for  which 
purpose  he  had  gone  thither,  formed  a  counter- 
purpose — that  he  would  return  to  his  home  and 
regain  what  he  had  lost.  It  was  all  the  work  of  a 
minute.  The  purpose  he  had  then  formed  he  kept. 
He  began  his  new  life  by  shovelling  a  load  of  coal 
into  a  cellar  ;  he  proceeded  step  by  step,  until  he 
had  more  than  regained  what  he  had  lost,  and  died 
a  millionaire.  In  a  wordly  sense  he  was  converted. 
This  is  not  a  solitary,  but  a  representative,  case. 
There  are  thousands  like  him  in  their  resolves  and 
efforts,  if  not  in  their  success. 

These  facts  demonstrate  the  possibility  of  a  radical 
and  sudden  change  of  liie  and  character.  This,  then, 
is  our  reply  to  the  objection  urged  by  so  many 
respecting  the  unreasonableness  and  impossibility  of 
such  a  change,  that  nothing  is  more  common,  or 
more  necessary,  in  life,  than  a  change,  than  a  con- 
version from  one  class  of  feelings  to  another,  from 
one  stale  of  character  to  another,  from  one  condition 
of  life  to  another, — from  being  influenced  by  one 
class  of  motives  to  being  influenced  by  an  entirely 
different  class, — from  being  born  once  to  being 
born  again.  When  this  conversion  is  commenced 
through  religious  motives,  and  is  carried  on  by 
Divine  agency,  then  it  becomes  religious,  instead  of 
social  conversion.  This  constitutes  the  vital  dif- 
ference between  the  two.  — Townsend. 

111.    HOW  IT  IS  EFFECTED. 
3,  Not  by  eloquence. 

(1397-)  I   admit   there  is  tremendous  power  in 

words  ;  they  breathe,  they  burn,  tiiey  move  tlie  soul. 
Bui  there  is  oii';   thing  they  cannot  do — regenerate 


the  soul.  They  are  not  adequate  to  do  that.  You 
all  know  that  there  is  an  invention  to  electrify  dead 
bodies  ;  by  bringing  the  dead  into  contact  with  an 
electric  battery,  they  can  be  made  to  imitate  the 
living,  they  look,  they  stare,  they  move,  they  gesticu- 
late ;  there  is  the  semblance  of  life,  but  not  the 
reahty.  And  1  have  seen  under  powerful  and 
eloquent  sermons  stout-hearted  sinners  start  from 
their  seats.  I  have  seen  them  weeping  ;  I  have 
seen  them  praying.  Well,  are  they  alive  ?  Not 
they — they  are  only  the  dead  acting  the  living.  Let 
the  electric  current  which  flows  from  the  preacher 
subsitle,  and  they  fall  back  to  their  former  torpor 
and  indifference.  What  are  many  of  the  so-called 
revivals?  electric  shocks  disturbing  the  dead,  but 
leaving  them  dead  notwithstanding.  Eloquence  can 
move  men,  but  it  cannot  save  them.  Eloquence, 
like  the  wind,  moves  the  sea  from  without,  but  that 
which  saves  must  move  it  from  its  own  depth. 
Eloquence  works  ///.'/<  the  soul ;  that  which  saves 
must  work  in  the  soul.  I  do  not  disparage  nicety 
of  language  and  eloquence  of  style  ;  but  tliis  1  know, 
that  Paul's  preaching  was  not  with  enticing  words 
of  man's  wisdom.  — J.  C.  j/'oites. 

2.  Not  by  argument. 

(1398.)  It  is  trite  and  commonplace  to  saj  tliat 
argument  cannot  convert  a  soul.  Conquer  a  man  in 
argument,  ami,  as  a  rule,  you  only  contirm  him  m 
his  error.  Last  Monday  I  was  looking  at  a  picture 
which  bore  the  title,  "  Conquered  but  not  Sub- 
dued." The  young  lad  was  evidently  conquered  by 
his  mother.  Ihere  he  stood,  with  his  face  hall 
turned  towards  the  wall  :  but  there  was  determina- 
tion in  the  mouth,  defiance  in  the  eye,  anger  in  the 
nostrils  ;  he  was  conquered  but  not  subdued.  Drive 
a  sinner  in  argument  to  a  corner,  so  that  he  cannot 
move,  yet  he  can  sink,  and  sink  he  will  to  his  own 
hell.  You  have  all  seen  sheet-lightnings  ;  they  flash, 
they  dazzle,  but  they  never  kill.  And  arguments 
after  all  are  only  sheet-lightnings — flashing,  dazzling, 
enlightening,  but  not  killing  in  the  sense  in  which 
Paul  says  that  he  was  slain.  I  say  nothing  against 
logic  :  have  as  much  of  it  in  the  pulpit  as  you  can  ; 
but,  after  all,  logic  will  not  save  the  world.  God  can 
never  save  you  by  argument ;  the  world  will  defy 
the  Almighty  in  a  debate.  There  is  argument  in 
the  Bible  :  and  argument  is  indispensable  :  but  it  is 
not  by  argument  that  men  are  made  new  creatures. 

-J.  C.  Jones. 

3.  Not  by  Intellectual  power. 

(1399.)  All  of  us  know  by  experience  and  obser- 
vation that  ideas  wield  immense  power  in  the  world; 
that  brilliant  thoughts  exercise  a  kind  of  magic  in- 
fluence on  those  that  hear  them  :  yet  we  must  admit 
that  the  power  of  ideas  is  not  that  which  saves. 
The  Bible  does  not  claim  superiority  on  account  of 
its  ideas.  I  believe,  of  course,  that  it  contains  the 
sublimest  ideas,  the  profoundest  thoughts  ever 
clothed  in  human  language  :  but  it  is  not  upon  its 
literary  or  intellectual  cnaracter  that  it  rests  its  claim 
to  the  homage  of  mankind.  Indeed,  you  may  study 
the  Scri,  tures  for  sixty  years,  you  may  be  the  best 
Biblical  scholar  in  the  land,  and  be  at  last  a  castaway. 
It  is  not  the  ideas  of  the  Bible  that  save.  The 
history  of  preaching  abundantly  proves  this.  Read 
the  sermon  which  was  preached  by  Peter  on  the 
day  of  Pentecost,  and  it  will  not  strike  you  as 
sparkling  with  ideas  ;  it  will  uot  astonish  you  with 
the  profundity  of  its  thoughts.    Sermons  that  display 


CONVERSION. 


(    246    ) 


CONVERSION. 


as  great  mental  calibre  had  been  preached  before, 
and  have  often  been  preached  since.  The  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  and  the  sermon  that  Paul  preached 
on  Mars  Hill,  stand  higher  on  the  intellectual  and 
philosophic  side  ;  and  yet  they  made  but  few  con- 
verts. Why  ?  Because  the  power  of  tliought  is  not 
the  power  that  saves.  Look  agiin  from  the  pulpit 
to  books.  It  is  not  the  most  intellectual  books  that 
have  been  mainly  blessed  to  the  salvation  of  souls. 
Take  the  "Analogy,"  by  Butler;  no  book  in  the 
language  perhaps  displays  more  solid  intellectual 
power  ;  yet  I  question  very  much  if  there  be  twenty 
people  now  living  that  would  point  to  the  "Analogy  " 
as  the  means  of  bringing  them  to  Jesus.  I  may  be 
mistaken,  but  this  is  my  impression.  I  have  heard 
a  great  many  people  praising  it,  referring  to  it,  say- 
ing they  are  indebted  to  it ;  but  not  one  ascribing 
his  salvation  to  it.  But  read  the  "Dairyman's 
Daugliter,"  by  Leigh  Richmond  ;  or  the  "Anxious 
Inquirer,"  by  John  Angell  James;  and  you  do  not 
find  the  millionth  part  of  the  mental  power  in  them 
that  you  find  in  the  "Analogy;"  but  there  are 
thousands  in  England  to-day  who  trace  their  con- 
version to  these  books.  It  is  another  power  tlian 
that  t  f  thought  which  saves.  I  do  not  say  that 
thought  is  not  necessary  ;  but  it  is  not  of  itself 
adequate  to  bring  about  the  desired  change. 

—y.  C.  Jones. 
4.  But  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 

(1400.)  A  smith  that  undertakes  to  open  such  a 
lock  that  is  out  of  order  must,  of  necessity,  first 
know  all  the  wards ;  else  he  may  make  a  key  that 
will  not  fit ;  he  may  endeavour,  but  not  be  able  to 
turn  the  lock.  Thus  it  is  that,  whereas  there  are  in 
the  heart  of  man  so  many  windings,  so  many  turn- 
ings, such  a  labyrinth,  such  a  depth  in  it,  that  in  the 
eye  of  human  reason  there  is  no  possibility  to  find 
out  the  bottom  thereof;  how,  then,  is  it  to  be 
imagined  that  the  most  knowing,  quick-sighted  man 
should  be  able  fully  to  persu.de  the  heart?  He 
cannot ;  that  is  peculiar  to  God  only.  He  only 
knows  all  the  secret  passages,  all  the  cross-wards  of 
the  heart,  to  Him  only  belongeth  that  especial  key 
of  David  ;  it  is  He  that  can  best  unlock  the  heart, 
answer  all  objections,  enlighten  all  the  corners,  turn 
all  the  wheels  of  the  soul,  suit  and  fit  the  heart  with 
such  arguments  as  shall  be  effectual  to  persuasion. 
— Presion,  1587-1628. 

(1401.)  If  a  ship  that  is  launched,  rigged,  and 
with  her  sails  spread,  cannot  stir  till  the  wind 
comes  fair  and  fills  them,  much  less  can  tlie  timber 
that  lies  in  the  carpenter's  yard  hew  and  frame 
itself  into  a  ship;  if  the  living  tree  cannot  grow 
except  the  root  communicates  its  sap,  much  less  can 
a  dead,  rotten  stake  in  the  hedge,  which  hath  no 
root,  live  of  its  own  accord.  And  thus,  if  the 
Christian's  strength  be  in  the  Lord  (as  most 
certainly  it  is)  and  not  in  himself,  then  the  Christ- 
less  person  mflst  needs  be  a  poor,  impotent  creature, 
void  of  all  strength  and  ability  of  doing  anything 
of  itself  towards  its  own  salvation  ;  if  a  Christian, 
that  hath  a  spiritual  life  of  grace,  cannot  exercise 
that  l!fe  without  strength  from  above,  then  surely 
one  void  of  that  new  life,  dead  in  sins  and  trespasses, 
can  never  be  able  to  beget  it  in  himself  or  any  way 
concur  to  the  production  of  it — so  helpless  is  the 
state  of  unregeneracy,  so  impotent  the  condition  of 
every  man  by  nature.       — Urexe/ius,  1581-1638. 

(1402.)  Water  may  be  easily  dammed  up,  but  no 


art  or  industry  can  make  it  run  backward  in  iti 
own  channel.  It  was  by  a  miracle  that  the  river 
Jordan  was  driven  back  :  and  it  is  very  near,  if 
not  altogether  a  miracle,  that  a  man  accustomed  to 
do  evil  should  learn  to  do  well  ;  that  the  tide  of 
sin,  which  before  did  run  so  strong,  should  be  so 
easily  turned ;  that  the  sinner,  who  before  was  sail- 
ing hellward,  and  wanting  neither  wind  nor  tide  to 
carry  him,  should  now  alter  his  course  and  tack 
about  for  heaven.  To  see  the  earthly  man  become 
heavenly,  to  see  a  sinner  move  contrary  to  himself, 
in  the  ways  of  Christ  and  holiness,  is  as  strange  as 
to  see  the  earth  fly  upward,  or  a  bowl  run  contrary 
to  its  own  bias.  — Spencer,  1658. 

{1403.)  If  a  man  should  sit  in  a  dark  room  among 
snakes  and  toads,  and  think  verily  that  it  were  no 
such  matter  but  he  were  in  his  bed-chamber,  you 
might  persuade  him  long  enough  to  come  away, 
and  tell  him  of  the  danger  ;  but  he  will  not  stir,  but 
laugh  at  you,  because  he  doth  not  believe  you. 
But  if  you  come  into  the  room  with  a  light,  and  he 
sees  them  crawling  all  about  him,  and  making  at 
him,  then  you  need  not  another  word  to  bid  him 
begone  ;  he  is  quickly  up,  and  leaveth  them  with 
abhorrence.  We  tell  unconverted  sinners  of  tiie 
iiatefulness  of  sin,  and  the  danger  that  they  are  in, 
and  pray  them  to  leave  it,  but  they  believe  us  not, 
and  do  but  laugh  at  it ;  but  when  the  Spirit  of  God 
bringeth  in  the  light,  and  they  see  all  this  with 
their  own  eyes,  that  it  is  even  worse  than  ever  we 
made  it,  then  away  goes  their  sins  without  any  more 
ado.  Like  a  child  that  hath  a  fine  yellow  crab 
which  he  taketh  for  an  apple,  he  will  not  part  with 
it,  nor  let  you  take  it  from  him  ;  but  when  he  hath 
set  his  teeth  in  it  once  and  tasted  it,  he  will  throw 
it  away  without  any  more  ado.  If  such  a  foolish 
child  be  playing  with  a  nettle,  while  he  taketh  it 
for  a  common  herb  he  is  bold  with  it,  but  when  he 
feels  the  sting,  he  throweth  it  away  ;  or  if  he  be 
playing  about  a  nest  of  wasps  or  bees,  while  he 
takes  them  to  be  but  harmless  flies,  you  cannot  call 
him  away,  but  when  once  they  have  stung  him,  he 
cries  and  runs  away  of  himself  without  another 
word.  Even  so  it  is  with  a  poor  sinner  about  his 
sins  before  conversion.  We  pray  him  to  come 
away,  and  tell  him  that  sin  hath  a  sting,  and  a 
deadly  sting,  and  assure  him  from  the  Word  of  God 
that  it  will  be  bitterness  in  the  latter  end,  and  he 
makes  no  great  matter  of  our  words,  but  can  hear 
us  as  if  we  came  into  the  pulpit  to  tell  him  a  tale, 
and  not  to  save  his  soul  from  hell.  And  therefore 
he  can  go  on  in  his  old  way  for  all  this,  and  take 
his  cups,  or  follow  the  world  and  his  fleshly  lusts, 
and  give  the  preacher  leave  to  talk.  But  when 
converting  grace  comes,  it  makes  him  taste  the 
bitterness  and  sourness  of  sin,  and  then  he  quickly 
spits  it  out.  It  makes  him  feel  the  sting  and  smart, 
and  then  he  cries  to  God  for  help,  and  wishes  he 
had  never  known  it,  and  runs  away  from  it  with 
detestation.  Grace  bringeth  in  that  light  from  God 
which  shows  them  that  which  they  did  not  see 
before ;  how  all  this  while  they  have  had  a 
multitude  of  crawling  serpents  in  their  bosom,  and 
they  have  been  playing  even  at  the  brink  of  helL 
And  when  they  see  this  with  their  own  eyes,  it  ia 
time  for  them  to  take  another  course. 

— Bujctcr,  1615-1691. 

{1404.)  On  a  winter's  day  I  have  noticed  a  row 
of  cottages,    with   a   deep   load   of  snow    on    theii 


CONVERSION. 


(     24r     ) 


CONVERSION. 


leveral  roofs ;  but  as  the  day  wore  on,  large  frag- 
ments began  to  tumble  from  tlie  eaves  of  tliis  one 
and  that  olher,  till,  by  and  by,  there  was  a  simul- 
taneous avalanche,  and  the  whole  heap  slid  over  in 
powdery  ruin  on  the  pavement  ;  and  before  the  sun 
went  down,  you  saw  each  roof  as  clear  and  dry  as 
on  a  summer's  eve.  But  here  and  there  you  would 
observe  one  with  its  snow-mantle  unbroken,  and  a 
ruff  of  stiff  icicles  around  it.  What  made  the 
difference  ?  The  difference  was  to  be  found  within. 
Some  of  these  huts  were  empty,  or  the  lonely 
inhabitant  cowered  over  a  scanty  fire  ;  whilst  the 
peopled  hearth  and  the  high-blazing  fagots  of  the 
rest  created  such  an  inward  warmth  that  grim 
winter  melted  and  relaxed  his  grip,  and  the 
loosened  mass  folded  off  and  tumbled  over  on  the 
trampled  street.  It  ss  possible  by  some  outside 
process  to  push  the  main  vohmie  of  snow  from  the 
frosty  rcrof,  or  chip  off  the  icicles  one  by  one ; 
but  they  will  form  again,  and  it  needs  an  inward 
heat  to  create  a  total  thaw.  And  so,  by  sundry 
processes,  you  may  clear  off  from  a  man's  conduct 
the  dead  weight  of  conspicuous  sins  ;  but  it  needs  a 
hidden  heat,  a  vital  warmth  within,  to  produce  such 
a  separation  between  the  soul  and  its  besetting 
iniquities,  that  the  whole  wintry  incubus,  the  entire 
body  of  sin  will  come  spontaneously  away.  That 
vital  warmth  is  the  love  of  God  abundantly  shed 
abroad— the  kindly  glow  which  the  Comforter 
diffuses  in  the  soul  which  He  makes  His  home. 
His  genial  inhabitation  thaws  that  soul  and  its 
favourite  sins  asunder,  and  makes  the  indolence  and 
self-indulgence  and  indevotion  fall  off  from  their 
old  resting-place  on  that  dissolving  heart.  The 
easiest  form  of  self-mortification  is  a  fervent  spirit. 
— Hai/iilton,  1814-1S67. 

(1405.)  When  the  heart  of  men  is  fortified  in 
his  weakness,  when  it  is  desperately  set  in  him  to 
do  e"il,  all  that  men  can  do  is  to  break  upon  them 
as  the  sea  breaks  on  the  rocky  shore.  It  is  the  sea 
that  is  sent  back,  and  the  rock  that  stands  firm. 
There  are  scores  of  nnen  who  live  for  the  f^esh ;  who 
live  under  the  dominion  of  the  senses  ;  and  who 
yet  live  in  the  full  light  of  truth.  None  know  it 
better  than  they.  There  are  men  that  have  read 
every  word  of  scripture  ;  there  are  men  that  are 
familiar  with  every  argument  and  statement  in 
theology  ;  there  are  men  that  have  known  and  seen 
much  of  the  power  of  God  in  revivals  ;  but  there  is 
within  them  that  fixed,  rooted,  toughened  life  of 
sin  that  refuses  to  yield  itself  to  any  power  which 
can  be  wielded  merely  by  the  hands  of  men. 

— Beecker. 

6.  Who  works  without  impairing^  the  freedom 
of  the  human  will. 

(1406.)  I  look  upon  you  as  a  physician  upon  his 
patient,  in  a  dangerous  disease,  that  saith  unto  him, 
"  Though  you  are  so  far  gone,  take  but  this  medicine, 
and  forbear  but  these  few  things  that  are  so  hurt- 
ful to  you,  and  I  dare  warrant  your  life  ;  but  if  you 
will  not  do  this,  you  are  a  dead  man."  What 
would  you  think  of  such  a  man,  if  the  physician 
and  all  the  friends  he  hath  cannot  persuade  him  to 
take  one  medicine  to  save  his  life,  or  to  forbear  one 
or  two  poisonous  things  that  would  kill  him  ?  This 
is  your  case.  As  far  as  you  are  gone  in  sin,  do  but 
now  turn  and  come  to  Christ,  and  take  His 
remedies,  and  your  souls  shall  live.  Cast  up  your 
deadly    sins    by    repentance,    ari    return    not    to 


your  poisonous  vomit  any  more,  and  you  shall  do 
well.  But  yet  if  it  were  your  bodies  that  we  had 
to  deal  with  we  might  partly  know  what  to  dc 
with  you.  Though  you  would  not  consent,  you 
might  be  held  or  bound  while  the  medicine  was 
poured  down  your  throats,  and  hurtful  things  might 
be  kept  from  you.  But  about  your  souls  it  cannot 
be  so ;  we  cannot  convert  you  against  your  wills. 
There  is  no  carrying  madmen  to  heaven  in  fetters. 
You  may  be  condemned  against  your  wills,  because 
you  sinned  with  your  wills ;  but  you  cannot 
be  saved  against  your  wills. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(1407.)  When  we  see  a  casket  wrenched  open, 
the  hinges  torn  away,  or  the  clasp  destroyed,  we 
mark  at  once  the  hand  of  the  stoih-r ;  but  when  we 
observe  another  casket  deftly  opened  with  a  master- 
key,  and  the  sparkling  contents  revealed,  we  note 
the  hand  of  the  owner.  Conversion  is  not,  as  some 
suppose,  a  violent  opening  of  the  heart  by  grace,  in 
which  will,  reason,  and  judgment  are  all  ignored  or 
crushed.  This  is  too  barbarous  a  method  for  him 
who  comes  not  as  a  plunderer  to  his  prey,  but  as  t 
possessor  to  his  treasure.  In  conversion,  the  Lord 
who  made  the  human  heart  deals  with  it  accordmg 
to  its  nature  and  constitution.  His  key  insinuates 
itself  into  the  wards;  the  will  is  not  enslaved  but 
enfranciiised  ;  tlie  reason  is  not  blinded  but 
enlightened  ;  and  the  whole  man  is  made  to  act 
with  a  glorious  liberty  which  it  never  knew 
till  it  fell  under  the  restraints  of  grace. 

— Spwgeon, 

IV.    HINDRANCES  TO  CONVERSION. 

(1408.)  One  hindrance  of  conversion  is  foolish 
self-love,  that  makes  men  unwilling  to  know  the 
worst  of  themselves,  and  so  keepeth  them  from 
believing  their  sinfulness  and  misery  ;  and  causeth 
them  to  presume  and  keep  up  false  deceiving  hopes 
that  they  may  be  saved,  whether  they  are  converted 
or  not  ;  or  that  they  are  converted  when  indeed 
they  are  not.  They  think  it  every  one's  duty  to 
think  well  of  themselves,  and  therefore  they  will  do 
so  ;  and  so,  while  they  hope  they  are  converted  al- 
ready, or  may  be  saved  without  conversion,  no  wonder 
if  they  look  not  seriously  after  it.  Like  many  a  sick 
man  that  I  have  known  in  the  beginning  of  a  con- 
sumption, or  some  grievous  disease,  they  hope 
there  is  no  danger  in  it  ;  or  they  hope  it  will  go 
away  of  itself,  and  it  is  but  some  cold  ;  or  they  hope 
that  such  or  such  medicine  will  cure  it,  till  they  are 
past  hope,  and  then  they  must  give  up  these  hopes 
and  their  lives  together,  whether  they  will  or  no. 
Just  so  do  poor  wretches  by  their  souls.  They 
know  that  all  is  not  well  with  them,  but  they  hope 
God  is  merciful,  that  He  will  not  condemn  them  ; 
or  they  hope  to  be  converted  some  time  hereafter  ; 
or  they  hope  that  less  ado  may  serve  their  turn,  and 
that  their  good  wishes  and  prayers  may  save  their 
souls  ;  and  thus,  in  these  hopes  they  hold  on,  till 
they  find  themselves  to  be  past  remedy,  and  their 
hopes  and  they  be  dead  together.  I  speak  not 
this  without  the  Scripture  (Prov.  xi.  17;  Job 
xxvii.  8,  9  ;  xi.  20),  There  is  scarcely  a  greater 
hindrance  of  conversion  than  these  false  deceiving 
hopes  of  sinners.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1409.)  Another  hindrance  of  conversion  is 
unresolvedness,  and  half-purposes  ;  when  men  will 
hang  wavering  between  God  and  the  world,  and 


CONVERSION. 


(     248     ) 


CONVERSION. 


though  the  light  be  never  so  clear  to  convince 
them,  yet  they  will  not  be  persuaded  to  re- 
solve. ...  If  you  would  be  converted  and  saved, 
cio  not  stand  wavering,  but  resolve,  and  presently 
Uirn  to  God.  If  it  were  a  doubtful  business,  I 
would  not  persuade  you  to  do  it  rashly,  or  if  there 
were  any  danger  to  your  souls  in  resolving,  then  I 
would  say  no  more.  But  when  it  is  a  case  that 
should  be  beyond  all  dispute  with  men  of  reason, 
why  should  you  stand  staggering  as  if  it  were  a 
doubtful  case?  What  a  horrible  shame  is  it  to  be 
unresolved  whether  God  or  the  world  should  have 
your  hearts  ?  Were  it  not  a  disgrace  to  that  man's 
understanding  that  were  unresolved  whether  gold 
or  dung  were  better  ?  Or  whether  a  bed  of  thorns 
or  a  feather  bed  were  the  easier  ?  or  whether  the 
sun  or  a  clod  of  earth  were  the  more  light  and 
glorious  ?  It  is  a  far  greater  shame  for  a  man  to  be 
unresolved  whether  it  be  God  or  the  world  that 
must  make  him  happy,  and  that  should  have  his 
heart,  and  whether  a  life  of  sin  or  holiness  be 
the  better.  — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 


V.    THE  EXPERIENCE  OF  THE  CONVERTED 

'S  VARIED. 

1.  In  accordance  with  their  constitutional  tend- 
encies and  previous  life. 

(1410.)  But  must  this  change,  if  radical,  be 
attended  with  great  distress  of  mind,  or  tumult  of 
heart  and  conscience,  before,  and  with  a  thrilling 
joy  which  recreates  the  world,  during  and  immedi- 
ately after  conversion  ?  These  experiences  may 
occur,  and  they  may  not.  They  may,  and  they  may 
not,  be  any  part  of  conversion.  They  are  dependent 
upon  the  constitutional  tendencies  of  the  man, 
and  upon  his  previous  life.  The  highwayman, 
arrested  by  God's  Spirit  while  in  the  act  of  murder, 
will,  most  likely,  have  a  tumultuous  experience.  It 
will  differ  entirely  from  that  of  the  innocent  child 
starving  by  the  roadside.  There  will  be  discovered 
precisely  the  same  differences  in  experiencing  this 
change  that  occur  in  the  events  of  practical  life. 
No  two  persons  will,  or  can,  appear  precisely  the 
same  under  the  same  circumstances,  whaiever  these 
circumstances  may  be.  Take  the  common  illustra- 
tion :  Two  sisters  lose  a  much-loved  brother.  In 
the  bosom  of  each  there  will  be  a  deep  sense  of  loss 
and  loneliness,  but  the  amount  and  kind  of  emotion 
at  the  grave  may  be  very  different.  In  the  one  will 
be  seen  the  gush  of  tears,  while  not  a  tear  moistens 
the  cheek  of  the  other.  The  one  will  turn  away 
from  the  silent  grave  with  outbursting  sorrow,  the 
other  in  silence,  but  with  a  cold  dark  mountain 
upon  her  heart.  One  mother  may  never  weep, 
whose  sorrow  is  as  intense  as  that  of  her  who  is 
bathed  in  tears  at  the  slightest  sickness  of  her  child. 

These  manifestations  are  the  result  of  constitu- 
tional tendencies.  They  argue  nothing,  one  way 
or  another,  as  to  the  soundness  of  conversion.  Con- 
version is  not  a  question  of  smiles  and  tears,  of  sun- 
shine or  clouds.  It  is  not  a  question  of  this  or  that 
emotion  or  feeling,  any  more  than  it  is  one  of  time 
and  place.  It  is  a  simple  question  of  a  change  of 
character  through  a  Divine  agency,  induced  by 
religious  motives,  without  regard  to  the  time  or  the 
manner  of  its  accomplishment.  It  is,  therefore,  the 
sheerest  folly  to  attempt  to  force  every  religious 
experience  into  the  same  mould.  It  cannot  be 
Stereotyped.     To  give  directions  \n  each  individual 


case  respecting  how  a  man  must  or  must  not  feel,  is 
the  last  business  of  the  preacher.  If  any  person 
waits  to  have  a  religious  experience  exactly  like  that 
of  some  one  else,  he  will  wait  for  ever  without  receiv- 
ing it.  There  are  no  exact  repetitions  ;  if  you  find 
them,  one  is  a  counterfeit.  Seize  the  hand  of  Christ 
in  your  own  way  ;  step  forth  :  all  will  be  well. 

— Townsend. 

(141 1.)  You  are  too  apt  to  feel  that  your  religious 
experience  must  be  the  same  as  others  have  ;  but 
where  will  you  find  analogies  for  this?  Certainly 
not  in  nature.  God's  works  do  not  come  from  His 
hand  like  coins  from  the  mint.  It  seems  as  if  it  were 
a  necessity  that  each  one  should  be  in  some  sort 
distinct  from  every  other.  No  two  leaves  on  the 
same  tree  are  precisely  alike ;  no  two  buds  on  one 
bus4i  have  the  same  unfolding,  nor  do  they  seek  to 
have. 

What  if  God  should  command  the  flowers  to 
appear  before  Him,  and  the  sunflower  should  come 
bending  low  with  shame  because  it  was  not  a  violet, 
and  the  violet  should  come  s.triving  to  lift  itself  up 
to  be  like  a  sunflower,  and  the  lily  should  seek  to 
gain  the  bloom  of  the  rose,  and  the  rose  the  white- 
ness of  the  lily  ;  and  so,  each  one,  disdaining  itself, 
should  seek  to  grow  into  the  likeness  of  the  other. 
God  would  say,  "Stop,  foolish  flowers  1  I  gave 
you  your  own  forms,  and  hues,  and  odours,  and  I 
wi?h  you  to  bring  what  you  have  received.  O  sun- 
flower, come  as  a  sunflower  ;  and  you,  sweet  violet, 
come  as  a  violet  ;  and  let  the  rose  bring  the  rose's 
bloom,  and  the  lily  the  lily's  whiteness."  Perceiving 
their  folly,  and  ceasing  to  long  for  what  they  had 
not,  violet  and  rose,  lily  and  geranium,  mignonette 
and  anemone,  and  all  the  floral  train,  would  come, 
each  in  its  own  loveliness,  to  send  up  its  fragrance 
as  incense,  and  all  to  wreathe  themselves  in  a  garland 
of  beauty  about  the  throne  of  God. 

Now  God  speaks  to  you  as  to  the  flowers,  and 
says,  "Come  with  the  form  and  nature  that  I  gave 
you.  If  you  are  made  a  violet,  come  as  a  violet. 
If  you  are  a  rose,  come  as  a  rose.  If  you  are  a 
shrub,  do  not  desire  to  be  a  tree.  Let  everything 
abide  in  the  nature  which  I  gave  it,  and  grow  to 
the  full  excellence  that  is  contained  in  that  nature." 

The  popular  impression  is,  tliat  grace  is  designed 
to  change  mtnfivin  nature.  No.  They  are  sii\ful 
simply  because  they  have  deviated  from  their  true 
nature,  or  fallen  short  of  it.  Grace  is  given  to  bring 
out  the  fulness  of  every  man's  nature.  Not  the 
nature  which  schoolm^^n  write  about  ;  but  that 
nature  which  God  thought  of  when  He  put  forth 
man,  and  pronounced  him  a  child  of  God,  bearing 
his  Father's  likeness.  — Beecher. 

2.  As  to  the  time  of  their  conversion. 

(1412.)  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth  (yea, 
and  when  it  listeih  too),  even  so  the  Spirit,  both 
time  and  place  uncertain.  Some  are  called  at  the 
first  hour— that  is,  in  their  infancy  or  childhood,  as 
Samuel,  Jeremiah,  and  John  the  Baptist  ;  some  in 
the  third  hour — that  is,  in  their  youth,  as  Daniel 
the  prophet  and  John  the  evangelist ;  others  at  the 
sixth  hour — in  their  middle  age,  as  Peter  and 
Andrew  ;  others  at  the  eleventh  hour — in  their  old 
age,  as  Gamaliel  and  Josepli  of  Arimathea  ;  and 
some  again,  not  only  in  the  last  hour  of  the  day, 
but  even  in  the  last  minute  of  that  hour,  as  the  thief 
upon  the  cross.  Again,  our  calling  is  uncertain  in 
respect  of  place,  for  God  calls  some  from  their  ships, 


CONVERSION. 


(    249    ) 


CONVERSION. 


some  from  their  shops,  and  some  from  under  the 
hedges,  and  others  from  the  market  ;  so  that,  if  a 
man  can  but  make  out  unto  liis  soul  that  he  is 
certainly  called,  it  matters  not  much  for  the  time 
when  nor  the  place  where,  both  of  them  being  so 
uncertain.  — Boys,  1560- 1643. 

(141 3.)  Men  come  into  the  kingdom  of  Cod  in  as 
many  different  ways  as  plants  come  to  flower.  Some 
come  right  up  out  of  the  earth  to  blossom.  Some 
come  up  and  grow  the  whole  summer,  and  then 
blossom.  Some  grow  a  year,  and  then  blossom  the 
second  year.  Some  grow  up  like  trees,  and  do  not 
blossom  till  they  are  three  or  four  or  five  or  six 
years  old.  Some  put  the  leaves  out  first,  and  the 
blossoms  afterward  ;  and  some  put  out  the  blossoms 
first,  and  the  leaves  afterward.  There  is  every  con- 
ceivable method  of  inflorescence. 

Now,  when  a  man  is  converted,  he  blossoms  ;  and 
some  persons  blossom  almost  from  the  cradle.  I  do 
not  doubt  that  God's  work  begins  in  the  hearts  of 
children  three  or  four  years  old,  and  of  persons  of 
every  age  beyond  that  period.  As  "  the  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth,"  so  God's  Spirit  works 
where  it  pleases.  It  comes  when  it  pleases,  and  as 
it  pleases  ;  and  no  man  can  tell  beforehand  how  it 
will  come  or  when  it  will  come.  The  way  in  which 
the  mind  is  affected  when  it  blossoms  into  the  king- 
dom of  love  and  duty  varies  in  almost  all  cases. 

— Beecher. 

3.  As  to  the  means  employed  to  effect  their 
eonverslon. 

(1414.)  Sometimes  you  shall  have  impetuous  and 
heavy  showers  bursting  from  the  angry  clouds. 
They  lash  the  plains,  and  make  the  rivers  flow. 
A  storm  brings  them,  and  a  deluge  follows  them. 
At  other  times,  thin  gentle  dews  are  formed  in  the 
serene  evening  air.  They  steal  down  by  slow 
degress  with  insensible  stillness:  so  subtle  that  they 
deceive  the  nicest  eye  ;  so  silent  that  they  escape 
the  most  delicate  ear ;  and  when  fallen,  so  very 
light,  that  they  neither  bruise  the  tenderest,  nor 
oppress  the  weakest  flowers.  Very  diflerent  opera- 
tions 1  Yet  each  concurs  in  the  same  beneficial 
end,  and  both  impart  fertility  to  the  lap  of  nature. 
So  I  have  known  some  persons  reclaimed  from  the 
unfruitful  works  of  darkness  by  violent  and  severe 
means.  The  Almighty  addressed  their  stubborn 
hearts,  as  he  addressed  the  Israelites  of  Sinai,  with 
lightning  in  His  eyes,  and  thunder  in  His  voice. 
The  conscience,  smitten  with  a  sense  of  guilt  and 
apprehension  of  eternal  vengeance,  trembled  through 
all  her  powers  ;  just  as  that  strong  m.ountain  tot- 
tered to  its  centre.  Pangs  of  remorse  and  agonies 
of  fear  preceded  their  new  birth.  They  were  re- 
duced to  the  last  extremities,  almost  overwhelmed 
with  despair,  before  they  found  rest  in  Jesus 
Christ.  Others  have  been  recovered  from  a  vain 
conversation  by  methods  more  mild  and  attractive. 
The  "Father  of  spirits"  applied  Himself  to  their 
teachable  minds  in  "a  still  and  small  voice."  His 
grace  came  down  like  the  rain  into  a  fleece  of 
wool ;  or  as  these  softening  drops  which  now  water 
the  earth.  The  kingdom  of  God  took  place  in 
their  souls  without  noise  or  observation.  They 
passed  from  death  unto  life,  from  a  carnal  to  a 
regenerate  state,  by  almost  imperceptible  advances. 
The  transition  resembled  the  growth  of  corn  :  was 
rery  visible  zvhen  eftected,  though  scarcely  sensible 
whiU  accomplish!  rg.  — Salter. 


(1415.)  God  is  sovereign;  and  He  calls  men  m 
He  pleases.  Some  He  calls  amid  thunder  and 
storm,  some  in  a  calm,  some  in  winter,  and 
soniv,  in  summer.  Some  He  calls  as  He  calls 
flowers  in  spring,  and  some  as  He  calls  flcwers  in 
autumn.  And  our  business  is  not  so  much  to  deter- 
mine what  is  the  way  in  wliich  God  must  call  us,  nor 
the  way  in  which  we  should  like  to  come,  as  to  get 
up  and  come  to  our  Father,  walking  in  whatever 
path  our  feet  find,  Conie — that  is  the  thing  ;  with 
a  deep  experience,  if  you  have  it ;  without  a  deep 
experience,  if  you  have  it  not ;  with  a  great  tumult, 
if  you  cannot  help  it  ;  without  much  tumult,  if  it 
please  God  that  it  should  be  so.  It  is  not  to  come 
in  any  particular  way,  or  with  any  particular  experi- 
ence, but  to  arise  and  come  to  our  Father,  and  say 
unto  Him  :  "  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
and  before  Thee,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be 
called  Thy  son  ;  make  me  as  one  of  Thy  hired 
servants."     It  is  to  come  back  to  God,  at  nnv  rate, 

— Beecher. 

4L  As  to  the  emotions  they  experience. 

(1416.)  If  we  plainly  see  that  many  are  insensibly 
changed,  and  made  good  by  pious  education  "  in 
the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord  ; "  and  that 
some  who  have  long  lived  in  a  profane  neglect  and 
contempt  of  religion,  are  by  the  secret  power  ol 
God's  Word  and  Holy  Spirit,  upon  calm  considera- 
tion, without  any  great  terrors  and  amazements, 
visibly  changed  and  brought  to  a  better  course ;  it 
is  in  vain,  in  these  cases,  to  pretend  that  this  change 
is  not  real,  because  the  manner  of  it  is  not  answer- 
able to  some  instances  which  are  recorded  in  Scrip- 
ture, or  which  we  have  observed  in  our  experience, 
and  because  these  persons  cannot  give  such  an 
account  of  the  time  and  manner  of  their  conversion 
as  is  agreeable  to  these  instances; — which  is  just 
as  if  I  should  meet  a  man  beyond  sea  whom  I  had 
known  in  England,  and  would  not  believe  that  he 
had  crossed  seas,  because  he  said  he  had  a  smooth 
and  easy  passage  and  was  wafted  over  by  a  gentle 
wind,  and  could  tell  no  stories  of  storms  and  tem- 
pests. — Tillotson,  1630-1604. 

(1417.)  There  are  some  whose  passage  fro.n  a 
state  of  nature  to  a  state  of  grace  has  been  gentle 
and  easy.  They  cannot  understand  the  measureless 
extent  of  joy  which  is  felt  by  the  poor  castaway 
rescued  from  depths  of  wretchedness  to  peace. 
There  is  something  like  intoxication  of  delight 
about  the  conversion  of  certain  great  offenders 
which  others,  like  the  elder  brother  in  the  parable, 
are  offended  with  ;  they  do  not  recognise  it  as 
belonging  to  their  experience  :  they  call  it  enthusi- 
asm, fanaticism  ;  "  they  are  angry,  they  will  not 
go  in."  Let  them  not  doubt  the  reality  of  it.  A 
man  who  comes  from  a  dark  chamber  into  the 
bright  shining  light  of  day,  experiences  a  dazzling 
brilliancy  in  that  which  to  another  is  mere  ordinary 
sunshine.  As  with  their  joys,  so  it  is  with  their 
groaning  and  sonows.  A  soldier  that  has  been 
scarred  and  wounded  in  the  wars  shall  find  his 
wounds  smart  in  old  age  and  bring  on  premature 
decrepitude.  And  the  soul  that  has  suffered  in  its 
spiritual  contests  with  the  devil,  that  has  long  lain 
in  the  captivity  of  the  enemy,  will  long  mourn  the 
wounds  and  scars,  and  weaknesses  and  deficiencies, 
that  his  more  happy  brethren  will  know  nothing  of. 

—Salter. 

(1418.)  "When  different  men  a  re  brought  to  Christ, 


CONVERSION. 


(    250    ) 


CONVERSION 


though  the  general  result  is  the  same,  the  process  is 
not.  V'ou  will  hardly  find  two  cases  in  which  the 
method  was  the  same  in  all  particulars. 

To  illustrate  this  matter,  suppose  there  were  a 
vast  malarial  district,  a  great  circuit  of  country,  in 
which  were  generated  all  manner  of  diseases  ;  sup- 
pose tJiere  were  towards  the  centre  of  that  district, 
or  circuit  of  country,  a  mountain  lifted  up  ;  sup- 
pose that  on  that  mountain  there  was  a  sanitarium — 
an  immense  building  to  which  men  might  go,  and 
going  to  which  they  might  rise  out  of  the  morbid 
influences  beneath  into  the  pure  air  above,  where 
all  the  conditions  of  health  were  fulfilled  ;  and  sup- 
pose word  should  be  sent  out  to  all  the  sick  in  the 
region  round  about,  "Come  up  hither,  for  here  is 
health."  Now,  if  a  man  was  sent  to  me,  as  the 
one  having  charge  of  that  sanitarium,  to  inquire 
wliat  steps  were  necessary  to  get  there,  how  could  I 
tell  him  ?  For,  here,  on  the  north,  is  one  man  a 
little  sick.  If  he  undertake  to  come,  he  will  be 
obliged  to  travel  by  easy  stages.  And  the  particular 
experiences  which  he  will  have  on  the  road  will 
depend  in  part  upon  the  rofite  he  takes.  But, 
whatever  those  experiences  may  be,  if  he  persevere, 
and  no  serious  accident  befalls  him,  he  will  finally 
reach  the  sanitary  height.  On  the  south  is  another 
man  who  is  sick  of  a  certain  disease,  who  has  not 
left  his  bed  in  six  months,  and  who  requires  a 
certain  kind  of  treatment.  He  has  heard  of  the 
sanitarium  ;  and  he  says  to  his  attendants,  "  Will 
you  carry  me  over  this  road  by  easy  stages,  and  get 
me  there?"  He  will  have  to  go  northward,  and 
liis  experiences,  as  regards  climate  at  least,  will  be 
different  from  those  of  the  man  who  goes  south- 
ward. But  he  will  recover  at  the  sanitarium. 
Another  man  is  off  at  the  east.  He  has  a  different 
disease,  and  requires  a  different  kind  of  treatment. 
He  must  go  by  another  road,  right  west,  and  his 
experiences  will  differ  from  the  experiences  of  the 
other  men  ;  but  he  will  find  his  way  to  the  sani- 
tarium. Each  man,  whether  he  travel  north,  or 
south,  or  east,  or  west,  will  sooner  or  later,  and 
with  more  or  less  difficulty,  come  into  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  advantages  proffered  to  him,  and  such 
as  be  on  this  mountain  in  the  centre  of  the  malarial 
district.  They  will  go  by  short  stages  or  by  long 
ones  ;  they  will  travel  a  great  many  miles  or  but 
a  very  few  ;  they  will  ride,  or  will  walk  on  their 
own  feet,  and  if  they  ride,  they  will  go  by  public 
conveyance,  or  by  their  own  conveyance.  These 
various  matters  will  be  determined  by  the  circum- 
stances which  surround  them.  But  they  will  all  go 
to  one  point.  They  will  go  with  different  degrees 
of  activity  or  speed,  and  with  different  degrees  of 
comfort  ;  but  the  destination  will  be  the  same  in 
each  case.     Do  you  not  see  it  ? 

Well,  it  is  just  so  in  going  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  When  men  are  sick,  there  is  this  great 
central  Mountain  of  spiritual  refuge  to  which  they 
may  go  for  relief.  But  where  they  are,  how  igno- 
rant or  how  wise  they  are,  how  much  or  how  little 
they  have  given  way  to  their  appetites  and  passions, 
what  their  entanglements  and  temptations  are — all 
ihese  things  will  have  an  influence  upon  them  in 
their  journey.  And  what  steps  are  necessary,  and 
how  many  of  them,  and  how  hard  or  how  easy  it 
will  be  to  break  away  from  that  which  is  evil,  and 
take  hold  upon  that  which  is  good,  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  No  specific  answer  can  be  given  on  these 
points.  But  let  me  say,  in  one  word,  that  this 
Mountain   is  provided   for   all.    and   that   the  steps 


which  are  necessary  in  the  case  of  each  to  enable 
him  to  reach  it,  will  be  determined  by  his  pecuiiU 
circumstances. 

But  we  will  suppose  that,  after  these  variont 
sick  persons  have  reached  the  sanitarium,  they  hold  • 
a  conference  with  themselves,  some  calm  evening, 
sitting  on  the  porch.  All  of  them  feel  greatly 
relieved.  Some  are  almost  nimble,  and  are  exhila- 
rant.  Others,  who  have  not  been  there  long,  say  : 
"  We  are  belter  ;  but  still  we  have  not  the  enjoy- 
ment  that  those  people  have."  And  they  begin  to 
talk  over  the  question  of  their  evidences  that  they 
are  there.  One  man,  springing  up  and  capering 
about  the  floor,  says  :  "  Ah  !  I  know  I  am  here  ! ' 
Another  man,  lifting  himself  up  goulily,  says: 
"  I  cannot  jump  in  that  way,  and  I  am  very 
uncertain  whether  I  am  here  or  not  ! "  Another 
man,  turning  on  his  couch,  and  looking  around 
languidly,  says  :  "Oh,  if  I  could  sit  up  1  should 
feel  more  sure  that  I  was  here."  And  so  they 
reason,  from  their  different  sensations,  as  to 
whether  or  not  they  are  in  that  sanitarium. 

Tliey  go  further.  One  says,  talking  with  another, 
"Where  did  you  come  from?"  "I  came  from 
North  Perdition,"  is  the  reply.  "Ah  !  I  came  frorj 
South  Perdition."  "What  sort  of  a  road  did  you 
travel  ?  "  "  Why,  I  came  from  a  region  where  it  is 
winter  six  months  of  the  year  ;  and  the  roads  were 
horrible.  It  seemed  as  though  I  never  should  get 
out  of  the  quagmires.  I  did  not  see  one  flower  or 
leaf  till  I  got  to  the  foot  of  this  mountain.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  getting  my  health  and  life  again, 
I  never  would  have  undertaken  such  a  dreadful 
task."  "Well,  then,  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  here." 
"Why;  what  sort  of  a  road  did  you  come?" 
"Oh,  f  came  a  most  beautiful  road  !  I  travelled  all 
the  way  in  the  midst  of  flowering  vines,  and  blos- 
soming apple-trees,  and  everything  sweet.  It 
seemed  to  me  as  though  I  was  between  gardens  all 
the  time  ;  and  either  you  are  hot  here,  or  else  I  am 
not — we  had  such  diflerent  experiences."  And 
yet,  they  are  both  there. 

You  see  how  absurd  this  is  in  speaking  of 
men  in  a  physical,  actual  place  ;  but  it  is  just 
as  absurd  in  speaking  of  men  in  spiritual  experi- 
ence. 

I  hear  one  man  say  to  another  :  "  Did  you  have 
such  awful  feelings  as  you  describe?  I  never  had 
any  such  feelings;  and  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  a 
Christian."  The  other  man  says  :  "  You  say  that 
tlie  moment  you  thought  of  religion  you  broke  out 
into  rapture  ;  but  I  did  not.  I  was  two  months 
without  the  dawn  of  light  ;  and  I  fear  I  am  not  a 
Christian."  Each  thinks  he  is  not  a  Christian 
because  he  did  not  feel  as  the  other  did.  One  thinks 
he  is  not  a  Christian  because  he  did  not  feel  joyous, 
and  the  other  thinks  he  is  not  a  Christian  because 
he  did  not  feel  bad.  — Beec/ur, 

6.  As  to  the  definlteness  witli  which  they  caa 
trace  the  history  and  fix  the  period  of  their  coix- 
version. 

(1419.)  He  that  is  locked  up  in  a  dungeon,  or 
othcrwi.se  immured  within  some  darksome  place, 
may  easily  discover  the  very  moment  of  time  when 
eitlier  the  least  beam  of  the  sun  shall  break  in  upon 
l)im  ;  whereas  he  that  is  in  the  open  air  is  very 
sensible  tliat  the  day  is  broke,  that  the  sun  is  u]), 
but  cannot  make  out  any  certain  account  of  the 
springing  of  the  one  or  rising  of  the  other.  Thus  it 
is  in  the  matter  of  our  spiritual  call'pjj  :  it  is  jiossible 


CONVENSION. 


(    251     ) 


CONVERSION. 


that  a  man  may  know  the  very  time  when  the  Day- 
spring  from  on  high  did  visit  him,  when  it  was  the 
good  pleasure  of  God  to  dart  into  his  soul  the  graces 
of  His  blessed  Spirit,  a^s  in  tlie  case  of  St.  Paul,  the 
good  centurion,  the  jailer,  the  Jewish  converts,  and 
some  others  ;  but  this  is  not  ordinary. 

—Bays,  1 560- 1 643. 

(1420.)  We  have  krrwn  those  who,  having 
misspent  their  younger  times  in  notoriously  lewd 
and  debauched  courses,  have  been  suddenly  heart- 
stricken  with  some  powerful  denunciation  of  judg- 
ment, which  hath  so  wrought  upon  them,  that  it 
hath  brought  them  within  sight  of  hell  ;  who,  after 
long  and  deep  humiliation,  have  been  raised  up, 
through  God's  mercy,  to  a  comfortable  sense  of  the 
Divine  favour;  and  have  proceeded  to  a  very  higii 
degree  of  regeneration,  and  lived  and  died  saints. 
But  this  is  not  every  man's  case. 

Those,  who,  having  from  their  infancy  been 
brought  up  in  the  nurture  and  fear  of  the  Lord,  and 
from  their  youth  have  been  trained  up  under  a  godly 
and  conscionable  ministry,  and  have,  by  an  insen- 
sible conveyance,  received  the  gracious  inoperations 
of  the  Spirit  of  God  (though  not  without  many  in- 
ward strifes  with  temptations,  and  sad  fits  of 
humiliation  for  their  particular  failings),  framing 
them  to  a  holy  obedience  ;  these  cannot  expect  to 
find  so  sensible  alterations  in  themselves.  As  well 
may  the  child  know  when  he  was  naturally  born, 
as  these  know  the  instant  of  their  spiritual  regenera- 
tion, and  as  well  may  they  see  the  grass  grow,  as 
they  perceive  their  insensible  increase  of  grace.  It 
is  enough  that  the  child,  attaining  to  the  use  of 
reason,  now  knows  that  he  was  born  ;  and  that 
when  we  see  the  grass  higher  than  we  left  it,  we 
know  that  it  has  grown.  — Hall,  1 574-1 656. 

(1421.)  Can  Christ  be  in  thy  heart,  and  thou  not 
know  it  ?  Can  one  king  be  dethroned  and  another 
crowned  in  thy  soul,  and  thou  hear  no  scuffle? 

— Gnrnall,  1617-1679. 

(1422.)  Many  are  prone  to  look  for  a  conversion, 
always  uniform,  not  only  in  its  effects  but  in  its 
operation,  and  also  too  much  bordering  on  the 
miraculous.  The  soul  must  be  exceedingly  terrified 
with  fear,  then  overwhelmed  with  anguish,  then 
plunged  into  despair,  then  suddenly  filled  with  hope, 
and  peace,  and  joy  ;  and  the  person  must  be  abL-  to 
determine  the  day  on  which,  the  sermon  under 
which,  or  the  providence  by  which,  the  change  was 
wrought.  But  this  is  by  no  means  necessarily,  or 
generally,  the  case.  There  is  a  variety  in  the 
temperaments  and  habits  of  men  ;  and  in  the 
methods  employed  to  bring  them  to  repentance. 
And  we  should  remember  that  there  are  "ilifier- 
ences  of  administration,  but  the  same  Lord  ;  "  that 
often  He  prefers  to  the  earthquake,  the  wind,  and 
the  fire,  the  small  still  voice  ;  that  He  can  draw  by 
the  cnrds  of  love  and  the  bands  of  a  man  that  He 
can  work  as  effectually  by  slow,  as  by  instantaneous 
exertion,  and  thai  He  can  change  the  soul  in  a 
manner  so  gradual  and  mild  as  to  be  scarcely  dis- 
cernible to  any  but  the  glorious  Author.  And  here, 
my  brethren,  we  are  furnished  with  evidence  from 
analogy.  In  nature,  some  of  God's  works  insen- 
sibly issue  in  others  ;  and  it  is  impossible  for  us  to 
draw  the  line  of  distinction  between  them.  "The 
path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light,  which  shinetn 
more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day."  But  who 
jam  ascertain  which  ray  begins,   or  winch  ends  tlie 


dawn?  If  you  are  unable  to  trace  the  process  ol 
the  divine  life,  judge  by  the  result.  When  you  per- 
ceive the  effects  of  conversion,  never  question  the 
cause.  And  if  perplexed  by  a  number  of  circum- 
stantial inquiries,  be  satisfied  if  you  are  able  to  say, 
"One  thing  I  know,  that  whereas  I  was  blind, 
now  I  see."  — Jay. 

(1423.)  The  greatest  powers  of  nature  work  most 
calmly  and  noiselessly.  What  so  gentle  as  the  day- 
dawn  rising  mutely  in  the  brightening  east,  and 
pouring  its  light  upon  the  eye  so  softly,  that  swift 
as  aie  those  rays,  the  tenderest  texture  of  the  eye 
endures  no  wrong?  And  what  more  soft  than  the 
spring's  falling  rain  ?  It  may  come  preceded  by 
the  thunder,  but  it  is  gentle  itself,  and  when  most 
efficacious  descends  almost  as  a  spiritual  presence, 
"as  small  rain  on  the  tender  herb,  and  as  showers 
that  water  the  earth." 

And  like  to  these  in  their  operations  are  the 
Gospel  and  Spirit  of  Christ.  When  our  Saviour 
came  into  the  world  it  was  silently  and  alone.  All 
heaven  was  moved,  and  followed  Him  down  to  the 
threshold,  but  few  on  earth  knew  it.  One  solitary 
star  pointed  to  the  humble  birthplace,  and  hymns 
sang  of  it,  heard  only  at  night  by  the  watching 
shejilierds.  He  walked  our  world  through  years 
softly  In  the  bitterness  of  His  soul;  He  left  where 
the  common  eye  beheld  but  an  ignominious  sufferer, 
one  of  three,  and  men  became  avvaie  that  the  Son 
of  God  had  come  and  gone  only  when  the  clear 
light  began  to  break  in  the  eastern  sky  from  that 
great  work  of  His,  and  when  the  open  gate  of 
mercy  was  thrown  back,  with  a  cross  before  it  to 
call  the  lost  and  wandering  home. 

And  as  it  was  with  His  descent  into  the  world, 
so  it  is,  in  general,  with  His  entrance  by  the 
Spirit  into  the  heart.  There  may  be  the  thunder 
and  the  mighty  rushing  wind  before  it,  the  provi- 
dences may  be  loud  and  violent,  but  the  Spirit  itself 
is  like  the  rain.  It  moves  from  soul  to  soul  among 
the  rising  generations,  and  there  is  no  outward  crisis 
to  tell  of  the  birth  of  souls.  It  is  like  the  dew  that 
falls  at  night,  and  in  the  morning  it  is  there,  and 
man  cannot  tell  when  it  formed  itself,  like  a  celestial 
guest,  within  the  flower-cup.  The  kingdom  of 
heaven  cometh  not  with  observation.  And,  even 
in  times  of  revival  more  marked,  for  such  times  are 
promised  and  should  be  expected  ;  yet  even  in  such 
times,  the  Spirit's  great  work  is  not  in  the  earth- 
quake or  the  mighty  rushing  wind,  but  is  in  the 
still  small  voice.  Unless  it  meet  us  there,  in  the 
secrecy  of  the  soul,  in  the  privacy  of  the  closet,  in 
the  rising  to  seek  Christ  at  flis  grave  in  the  quiet 
resurrection  morn  when  the  busy  world  and  all  the 
guards  are  fast  asleep,  unless  it  bring  the  soul  into 
close  and  secret  communion  with  Christ  Himself, 
it  meets  us  not  at  all.  In  His  Gospel  and  His 
Spirit,  Christ  is  moving  through  the  great  inner 
workl  which  men  too  much  neglect,  the  world  of 
souls,  and  there  in  the  solitude  of  the  heart,  alone 
with  Him,  it  must  be  ours  to  seek  and  find. 

— A'er. 

(1424.)  The  change  sometimes  takes  place  in  suclj 
a  manner  that  the  sul)ject  only  knc>ws  by  the  review 
of  months,  and  possibly  years,  that  he  is  not  the 
man  he  was.  It  is  perhaps  more  frequently  the  case 
that  the  light  struggles  for  a  season  with  the  dark- 
ness ;  doubt  is  mingled  with  hope;  rlouds  hnng 
about  the  horizon,  or  even  shut  in  the  heavens,  with 


CONVERSION. 


(    252     ) 


CONVERSION. 


only  an  occasional  glimmer  of  light.  With  the 
majority  of  people  in  a  Christian  land,  conversion  is 
like  tlie  dawning  of  the  morning  in  the  east,  in 
which  the  change  from  deep  night  to  commencing 
day  can  scarcely  be  marked.  It  is  so  gradual  that 
you  can  select  no  points  or  sudden  advances  until 
the  sun  appears.  The  beholder  knows  it  was  once 
dark  :  he  knows  equally  well  that  it  is  now  light. 
"One  thing  I  know,"  exclaimed  the  blind  man  to 
the  hard  question  of  the  Pharisees,  "that  whereas  I 
was  blind,  now  I  see."  The  child  learning  the 
alphabet,  may  not  know  when  it  is  mastered.  The 
thing  of  importance  is,  can  he  read  ? 

So  far  as  the  soundness  of  the  crisis  of  conversion 
is  concerned,  it  makes  no  difference  whether  it  is 
like  the  "torrent  frozen  in  mid  air,"  the  "  lightnings 
pinioned  while  playing  across  the  clouds,"  or  like 
the  slow  and  gradual  development  of  childhood  into 
manhood.  The  only  question  that  need  concern  us 
is,  whether  or  not  the  heart  is  now  devoted  to  God 
and  to  His  service  ?  Has  there  been  a  change  of 
character  or  of  citizenship  ?  Are  the  chief  interests 
transferred  from  this  to  the  world  to  come?  Have 
the  sins  with  which  he  was  laden  disappeared  ? 
Does  the  man  know  that  a  change — a  spiritual 
change — has  "."tually  taken  place?  Is  the  soul 
roused  to  its  true  dignity?  If  so,  that  is  enough. 
The  man  has  been  converted.  With  no  time' speci- 
fied, without  a  form  to  signalise  it,  without  a 
whisper  to  proclaim  it  to  the  world,  there  will  be 
joy  in  heaven.  — lownsend. 

(1425.)  I  think  there  are  many  and  many  persons 
that  are  Christians  and  do  not  know  it. 

My  watch  stops.  Something  is  broken  in  it.  I 
take  it  to  Hlhe  watchmaker,  and  he  puts  in  a  new 
n"ainspring.  I  do  not  know  anything  about  it, 
except  that  he  does  it.  And  when  it  is  repaired  he 
lays  it  uside.  Presently  I  go  for  my  watch,  and  ask 
him  if  U  is  done.  "Oh  yes,"  he  says,  "but  I  do 
not  know  as  it  is  going."  And  he  takes  it,  and  find- 
ing that  it  does  not  go,  he  winds  it  up.  And  then 
it  does  not  go,  perhaps  ;  but  he  gives  it  a  little  turn- 
ing shake,  and  it  commences  ticking  and  keeping 
time. 

1  know  many  persons  who  have  a  mainspring  in 
them,  and  have  been  wound  up,  for  that  matter,  but 
who  have  not  been  shaken  yet  1  And  there  they 
are.  If  somebody  would  only  take  them  up  and 
whirl  them  round  a  few  times,  and  say  to  them, 
"You  are  Christians;  tick!  tick  I"  they  would 
commence  keeping  time,  and  go  on  keeping  time. 

— Bencher. 

(1426.)  When  the  Spirit  of  God  changes  the 
heart,  some  persons  want  to  be  as  much  aware  of  it 
as  when  an  arm  is  broken  and  the  surgeon  puts  it 
in  place  :  the  bones  crack  as  they  go  in  again— some 
men  want  to  feel  the  power  of  God's  hand  constrain- 
ing them.  A  man  feels  pain  and  tlie  doctor  pre- 
scribes a  bitter  draught.  He  drinks  it,  and  feels 
better  in  five  minutes  ;  he  feels  better  and  better 
until  the  attack  passes  away.  So  many  feel  they 
must  have  a  deep  and  bitter  conception  of  sin,  and 
then  come  out  of  it  all  changed.  Alany  are  anxious 
to  know  when  they  were  changed,  and  to  be  able 
to  say,  "  Thursday,  at  nine  o'clock  at  night,  I  was 
converted."  To  put  their  finger  on  that  Thursday 
night  is  a  great  comfort  which  will  go  with  them  all 
their    life   long.     I   would    not  take  it  away  from 


them,  but  if  there  are  others  who  cannot  say  s»,  hoW 
is  that  ? 

A  man  is  blind — the  doctor  performs  an  operation 
and  puts  the  patient  in  a  dark  room  whih  the  eye 
is  strengthening.  He  will  not  let  a  partinc  of  light 
into  the  room  till  the  inflammation  \?.  |[,one  down. 
At  first  the  doctor  will  let  in  just  u  fiim  of  light, 
then  a  little  more  to-morrow,  and  in  3  w»ek  he  will 
let  the  room  be  full  of  a  shaded  and  »ubd;ied  light, 
and  in  a  little  time  the  man's  eyesight  is  restored. 
Suppose  you  ask,  "  When  did  the  man  begin  to 
see  ?  Did  he  begin  to  see  in  one  lortniglit  ?  "  No. 
You  cannot  put  your  finger  on  tb-i  point  where  one 
moment  the  man  was  blind  aufi  the  next  he  could 
see. 

You  cannot  touch  the  divi<?.ing  line,  and  will  the 
man  himself  say,  "  I  cannot  see  because  I  cannot 
say  when  I  was  healed?"  He  can  say,  "Whereas 
I  was  blind,  now  I  see,"  and  when  he  can  sav  that. 
he  don't  need  to  be  very  particular  as  to  ttie  moment 
when  he  began  to  see.  — Beecher. 

(1427.)  There  may  be  a  change  so  gradual  as  to 
be  imperceptible.  When  the  thermometer  falls 
forty  degrees  in  twenty-four  hours,  men  say,  "  What 
a  change  !"  but  when  it  falls  forty  degrees  in  three 
weeks,  and  only  one  or  two  degrees  at  a  time,  and 
it  is  hot  to-day,  and  it  is  hot  to-morrow,  and  the 
next  day  it  is  a  little  doubtful  whether  it  is  as  hot 
or  hotter,  there  is,  though  men  do  not  perceive  it, 
a  time  when  the  thermometer  passes  an  intermediate 
point,  on  one  side  of  which  it  is  hot,  and  on  the 
other  side  of  which  it  is  cold.  Now,  it  is  possible 
for  a  change  to  take  place  with  such  decisiveness 
that  a  man  is  conscious  of  it  distinctly  ;  and  it  is 
possible  for  a  change  to  take  place  so  quietly  that 
a  man  is  not  conscious  of  it.  And  there  are  a  great 
many  men  that  have  a  religious  tendency,  that  are 
blessed  with  Christian  instruction,  and  that  are 
guided  by  the  Spirit  of  God  to  the  new  life,  who 
are  not  conscious  of  the  moment  of  time  when  they 
pass  the  line  of  decision,  though  they  do  pass  it. 

— Beecher. 

(1428.)  Does  it  not  strike  you  as  being  very 
foolish  reasoning  if  you  should  say  in  yow  heart, 
"  I  am  not  converted  because  I  do  not  know  when  ?  " 
Nay,  with  such  reasoning  as  that,  I  could  prove  that 
old  Rome  was  never  built,  because  the  precise  date 
of  her  building  is  unknown  ;  nay,  we  might  declare 
that  the  world  was  never  made,  for  its  exact  age 
even  the  geologist  cannot  tell  us.  We  might  prove 
that  Jesus  Christ  Himself  never  died,  for  the  precise 
date  on  which  He  expired  on  the  tree  is  lost  beyond 
recovery ;  nor  doth  it  signify  much  to  us.  We 
know  the  world  was  made,  we  know  that  Christ 
did  die  ;  and  so  you,  if  you  are  now  reconciled  to 
God,  if  now  your  trembling  arms  are  cast  around 
that  cross,  you  are  saved,  though  the  begin- 
ning was  so  small  that  you  cannot  tell  when  it 
was.  Indeed,  in  living  things  it  is  hard  to  put  the 
finger  upon  the  beginning.  Here  is  a  fruit  — will 
you  tell  me  when  it  began  to  be  ?  Was  it  at  the 
time  when  first  the  tree  sent  forth  its  fruit-bud  ? 
Did  this  fruit  bei^'in  when  first  the  flower  shed  its 
exhalations  of  perfume  upon  the  air?  Indeed,  yi)u 
could  not  have  seen  if  you  had  looked.  When  was 
it?  Was  it  when  the  full-ripe  flower  was  blown 
away,  and  its  leaves  were  scattered  to  the  wind,  and 
a  little  embryo  of  fruit  was  left  ?  'Twas  hard  to  say 
it  did  not  begin  before  that,  and  equally  hard  to  say 


CONVERSION. 


(    253    ) 


CONVERSION 


what  precise  instant  that  fruit  began  to  be  formed. 
Ay,  and  so  it  is  with  Divine  grace,  the  desires  are 
so  faint  at  the  beginning,  the  convictions  are  but 
the  etchings  upon  the  plate,  which  afterwards  must 
be  engraven  with  a  harder  instrument  ;  and  tliey  are 
such  flimsy  things,  with  transient  impressions  of 
Divine  truth,  that  'twere  difficult  to  say  what  is 
transient  and  what  permanent,  what  is  really  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  and  what  is  not ;  what  hath  saved 
the  soul,  or  what  only  brought  it  to  the  verge  of 
salvation  ;  what  made  it  really  live,  or  what  was 
really  the  calling  together  of  the  dry  bones  before 
the  breath  came  and  the  bones  began  to  live.  Quit 
your  fears,  n\y  hearers,  upon  this  point,  for  if  ye 
are  saved.  t>c  matter  when.  — Spufgeon. 

(i<,«9t/  It  matters  not  if  you  cannot  tell  just 
vV.T.'i  you  became  a  Christian  If  we  sow  a  hand- 
ful of  wheat  in  our  garden,  we  could  not  tell, 
though  we  watched  it  ever  so  narrowly,  the  exact 
moment  when  it  germinated.  But  when  we  see 
the  waving  grain  in  the  autumn  we  know  it  did 
germinate,  and  that  is  all  we  care  for. 

VI.    PROOFS  OF  ITS  REALITY. 

1.  A  radical  and  thorough  change  cf  hearS. 

(1430.)  There  is  no  part  of  a  man's  nature  which 
the  gospel  does  not  purify,  no  relation  of  his  life 
which  it  does  not  hallow.  ,  .  .  Chiist  did  not  cast 
BIX  devils  out  of  Mary  Magdalene  ai^d  leave  one ; 
He  cast  out  all  the  seven.  He  did  not  partly  cure 
the  lame  man  at  the  pool  of  Bethesda ;  He  made 
him  every  whit  whole. 

—A.  W.  Hare,  1784-1834. 

(1431.)  But,  again,  it  is  asked,  "  Is  this  birth 
from  above  such  that  we  can  always  decide  cor- 
rectly whether  the  individual  who  makes  the  pro- 
fession has  in  reality  experienced  the  change? 
Will  the  conduct,  at  all  times,  unmistakably  fore- 
shadow it  ?  "  Go  to  the  dress  parade  of  a  regiment. 
There  are  the  soldiers, — under  the  same  uniform, 
obeying  the  same  commands,  equally  prompt  and 
equally  perfect  in  their  execution.  That  is  what 
appears  to  the  eye.  But  one  is  a  traitor,  who  will 
betray  the  command  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver  ; 
another  is  a  deserter,  who  leaves  his  companions 
alone  in  the  long  march  and  deadly  encounter ; 
another,  whose  outward  conduct  for  a  time  is  not 
more  commendable,  is  a  patriot,  who  is  ready  at 
every  point  and  at  every  moment  of  peril  to  throw 
his  blood  and  life  into  the  defences  of  his  na- 
tion. 

Conversion,  in  many  instances,  may  not  much 
change  the  outward  conduct ;  that  depends  upon 
what  the  conduct  has  hitherto  been.  But  the 
heart-allegiance  is  changed.  God  knows — we  do 
not — whether  all  those  who  are  professing  to  follow 
'Christ,  who  are  acknowledged  as  Christians,  are 
such  in  fact.  The  principle  upon  which  He  makes 
His  decision  is  not  that  there  has  been  a  change  in 
the  outward  deportment  merely.  He  requires  a 
radical  and  thorough  change  of  the  heart. 

—  lownsend. 

2.  Thankftil  acknowledgment  of  God's  grace  and 
mercy. 

(1432.)  The  pardoned  soul  is  a  God-admirer; 
"\Vho  is  a  God  like  Thee,  that  pardoneth  ini- 
quity ?  "     A  man  that  goes  over  a  narrow  bridge  in 


the  night,  and  the  next  morning  comes  and  seei 
the  danger  he  was  in,  and  how  miraculously  he 
escaped,  he  is  stricken  with  admiration  ;  so,  when 
God  shows  a  soul  how  near  he  was  a-falling  into 
hell,  and  how  that  this  gulf  is  shut,  all  his  sins  are 
pardoned,  he  is  amazed,  and  cries  out,  "Who  is  a 
God  like  Thee,  that  pardoneth  iniquity  ?  " 

—  Walson,  1696. 

3.  Hatred  of  sin. 

(1433.)  If  friends  have  weapons  in  their  hands, 
they  will  but  play  with  them,  but  deadly  enemies 
will  seek  the  blood  of  one  another.  There  is  a 
difference  between  fencing  and  fighting  for  life. 
Though  a  man,  that  knoweth  noihing  of  their  mean- 
ing, might  think  a  fencer  is  fighting  in  good  sad- 
ness, seeing  he  seemeth  to  make  as  great  a  stir  as 
if  it  were  so  indeed.  Yet  the  issue  will  show  you 
that  it  is  otherwise,  because  you  see  that  there  is  no 
blootlshed,  nor  men  killed.  So  is  it  with  a  hypo- 
crite in  his  seeming  reformation  ;  when  he  makes 
the  greatest  sti;  against  his  sin  in  confessing  and 
prayer,  and  other  means,  yet  he  will  not  resolvedly 
cast  it  away,  but  he  secretly  useth  it  as  his  friend, 
while  he  open'/ abuseth  it  as  his  enemy;  and  he 
puts  it  into  his  bosom,  while  he  calls  it  all  to 
naught.  He  will  not  be  brought  unfeignedly  to 
renounce  it,  and  give  it  a  bill  of  divorce,  and  cast 
it  out  as  a  man  doth  his  vomit,  with  resolution 
never  to  take  it  in  more.  Oh,  how  sweetly  doth  he 
roll  it  in  his  thoughts  in  secret,  when  he  frowneth 
upon  it  with  the  severest  countenance  !  How  easily 
is  he  drawn  to  it  again  and  again,  when  he  takes 
on  him  to  repent  of  it  and  abhor  it  1  But  it  is  clean 
contrary  with  a  man  that  is  converted.  Though 
the  remnants  of  sin  will  remain  in  him  while  he 
liveth,  yet  as  to  the  reign  of  it,  he  presently  casteth 
it  off,  and  biddeth  defiance  to  it.  lie  fighteth 
against  it  in  good  earnest,  as  knowing  that  either 
he  or  it  must  die.  Baxter,  1615-1691. 

4.  Holiness  of  Ufa. 

(1434.)  A  man's  heart  will  persuade  him  that  he 
is  converted  from  a  state  of  sin,  when  perhaps  he  is 
only  converted  from  one  sin  to  another  ;  and  that 
he  has  changed  his  heart,  when  he  has  only  changed 
his  vice.  1  his  is  another  of  its  fallacies,  and  that 
none  of  the  least  fatal  and  pernicious.  A  man  has 
perhaps  for  a  long  time  taken  the  full  swing  of  his 
voluptuous  humour,  wallowed  in  all  the  pleasures 
of  sensuality  ;  but  at  last,  either  by  age  or  design, 
or  by  some  cross  accident  turning  him  out  of  his 
old  way,  he  comes  to  alter  his  course,  and  to  pur- 
sue riches  as  insatiably  as  formerly  he  did  his 
pleasures,  so  that  from  a  sensual  epicure  he  is 
become  a  covetous  miser  ;  a  worthy  change  and 
conversion  indeed  !  But  as  a  river  cannot  be  said 
to  be  dried  up  because  it  alters  its  channel;  so 
neither  is  a  man's  corruption  extinguished,  though 
it  ceases  to  vent  itself  in  one  kind  of  vice,  so  long 
as  it  runs  with  as  full  and  as  impetuous  a  course 
in  another. 

Suppose  among  the  Jews,  a  man  had  passed  from 
the  society  of  riotous  and  debauched  livers,  from 
the  company  of  publicans  and  sinners,  to  the  strict- 
ness and  profession  of  the  Pharisees,  this  man 
indeed  might  have  been  termed  a  new  sinner,  but 
not  a  new  creature  ;  he  had  changed  his  intemper- 
ance, or  his  extortion  for  the  more  refined  sins  of 
vainglory  and  hypocrisy  ;  he  had  changed  a  dirty 
path  for  one  more  cleanly,  but  still  for  one  in  the 
same  road.     One  man  perhaps  goes  to  a  town  or 


CONVERSION, 


(    254    ) 


CONVERSION. 


%  city  through  the  fields,  another  through  the 
highway,  yet  both  of  them  intend  and  arrive  at  the 
lame  place,  and  meet  and  shake  hands  at  the  same 
market.  In  like  manner,  a  man  may  pass  as  surely 
to  hell  by  a  sin  of  iess  noise  and  infamy  as  by  one 
more  flaming  and  notorious.  And  tiierefore  he 
that  changes  only  from  one  sin  to  another,  is  but 
the  devil's  convert,  and  the  whole  business  of  such 
a  conversion  is  but  a  man's  altering  of  the  methods 
of  his  ruin,  and  the  casting  of  his  damnation  into 
another  model.  — South,  1633-1716. 

B.  GroTTtli  In  grace. 

(1435.)  -^11  believers  do  grow  in  grace.      And 

this  ye  know  is  the  difference  between  a  painted 
child  and  a  living  child  ;  take  a  living  child,  and 
though  he  be  but  little  and  very  weak,  yet  he  grows 
bigger.  But  a  child  that  is  painted  upon  a  wall 
grows  not :  and  if  a  man  come  to  you  and  say,  What 
is  the  reason  that  this  child  does  not  grow  ?  two 
or  three  years  ago  he  was  as  big  as  he  is  now? 
you  will  easily  answer.  Because  he  is  but  a  painted 
child,  he  is  not  a  living  child  ;  if  he  were  a  living 
child  he  would  grow.  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(1436,)  A  violent  motion  is  quick  in  the  begin- 
ning, but  slow  in  the  end  ;  a  stone  cast  upward  is 
then  most  weak  when  it  is  most  high  ;  but  a  natural 
motion  is  slow  in  the  beginning,  quicker  in  the  end. 
If  a  man  from  a  high  tower  cast  a  stone  downward, 
the  nearer  to  the  centre  the  quicker  is  the  motion. 
\Vhen  a  man  at  his  first  conversion  is  exceeding 
quick,  but  afterwards  waxeth  every  day  slower  in 
the  ways  of  goodness,  his  motion  is  not  natural,  but 
forced  :  otherwise,  like  a  constant,  resolved  Chris- 
tian, the  longer  he  lives,  and  the  nearer  he.  comes 
to  the  mark,  the  more  swiftly  doth  he  run,  the  more 
vehemently  doth  he  contend  for  that  everlasting 
ciown  which  he  shall  be  sure  to  attain  at  his  race's 
end.  — Spencer,  1658. 

(1437.)  To  say  that  personal  religion  is  charac- 
terised by  growth,  is  only  another  form  of  saying 
that  the  man  who  lias  it  is  spiritually  alive.  Growth 
in  the  animal  and  vegetable  worlds  is  the  sure  sign, 
and  the  only  sure  sign  of  life.  If  a  branch  does  not 
sprout,  and  put  forth  leaf  and  blossom  in  the  spring, 
we  know  that  it  is  a  dead  branch  ;  the  sap  which  is 
the  life  of  the  tree  does  not  reach  it,  is  not  circulat- 
ing through  it.  If  an  infant  lives,  it  grows;  in- 
creases in  stature  daily,  while  its  features  fill  out 
gradually  into  that  definite  shape  which  they  are  to 
wear  thiough  life.  Hut  we  need  not  restrict  the 
remark  to  infants.  The  bodies  of  adults  grow  as 
really,  though  not  as  sensibly,  as  those  of  children. 
1 'articles  of  matter  are  continually  flying  off  from  our 
bodies,  and  being  replaced  by  others  ;  so  that, 
according  to  a  very  old  and  often  quoted  computa- 
tion, the  whole  mass  of  the  human  body  undergoes 
an  entire  change ;  becomes,  in  fact,  a  new  body 
once  in  every  seven  years.  This  constant  discharge 
of  old  particles,  and  accretion  of  new  ones,  though 
accompanied  with  no  change  of  feature  or  stature, 
is  growth  ;  and  it  is  a  sign  of  the  vitality  of  the 
t)ody.  A  dead  body  lacks  the  principle  of  life,  by 
which  ak'ne  nourisinnent  can  be  taken  in  from  air 
and  food,  snd  tnnsmuted  into  the  substance  of  the 
human  frame. 

Now  we  know  that  nature  is  every  where  a  parable 
of  grace.  Its  being  so  is  the  basis  of  all  those  beau- 
tiful iiiustiaiions  which  are  called  the  parables  of 


our  Lord.  And  in  the  case  before  us,  nature  fiir* 
nishes  a  most  important  parable  of  religious  truth. 
There  is  no  organic  life  without  growth  in  nature  ; 
and  there  is  no  spiritual  life  without  growth  in 
grace.  I  say,  no  spiritual  life,  no  continuous  state 
of  life,  spiritual  impulses  there  may  be  many.  Im- 
pulses, however,  are  not  life,  though  they  may 
originate  or  restore  life.  — Goulbum, 

VII.    NOT  TO  BE  DELAYED, 

1.  Because  Instant  conversion  is  our  duty. 
(1438.)  "  But  I  do  not  know  about  submitting  to 

God  so  suddenly.  I  must  have  time.  Conversion 
is  not  a  hasty  but  a  gradual  work." 

How  much  time  do  you  want  ?  How  much  have 
you  had  ?  How  long  has  God  called  and  you 
refused,  stretched  out  His  hand  and  you  have  not 
regarded  ?  What  if  you  were  sailing  swiftly  down 
Niagara's  flood  ;  would  you  ask  for  time  to  turn  ? 
What  if  your  house  were  wrapped  in  flames  ;  would 
you  talk  of  gradual  escape?  What  do  you  mean  by 
a  gradual  conversion  ?  Can  a  man  gradually  stop 
fighting  ?  fire  a  few  more  guns  as  the  war  is  over  ? 
gradually  exchange  his  enmity  to  love?  oppose  God 
to-day,  only  not  so  violently  as  yesterday,  and  with 
less  and  less  bitterness  as  time  rolls  on?  What 
would  become  of  the  soul,  he  dying  in  process? 
Whose  would  it  he,  God's  or  Satan's  ?  Sinner  ! 
God  now  commands  you  to  repent.  As  the  Roman 
ambassador  drew  a  circle  around  the  captive  princes 
and  bade  them  accede  to  his  terms  before  they  had 
passed  its  bounds,  so  God  now  requires  an  immedi- 
ate accession  to  His  overtures  of  mercy. 

— Joh)i  Marsh. 

(1439.)  When  men  grow  virtuous  in  their  old 
age,  they  only  make  a  sacrifice  to  God  of  the 
devil's  leavings.  — Pope, 

2.  Because  our  position  is  so  perilous. 
(1440.)    Consider  but  what  a  case   you   are   in 

while  you  thus  del.iy.  Do  you  think  you  stand  on 
dry  ground,  or  in  a  safe  condition?  If  you  knew 
where  you  are,  you  would  sit  as  upon  thorns,  as 
long  as  you  are  unconverted  ;  you  would  lie  as  a 
man  that  stood  up  to  his  knees  in  the  sea,  and  saw 
the  title  coming  towards  him,  who  certainly  would 
think  that  there  is  no  standing  still  in  such  a  place. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1441.)  While  you  are  delaying,  your  judgment 
doth  not  delay,  and  when  it  comes,  these  delays 
will  multiply  your  misery,  and  the  remembrance  of 
them  will  be  your  everlasting  torment.  As  a  man 
that  is  in  a  coach  on  the  road,  or  in  a  boat  on  the 
water,  whatever  he  is  speaking,  or  thinking,  or 
doing,  he  is  still  going  on,  and  hastening  to  his 
journey's  end  or  going  down  the  stream  :  so  what- 
ever you  think,  or  speak,  or  do,  whether  you  believe 
it  or  mock  at  it,  whether  you  sleep  or  wake,  whether 
you  remember  it  or  forget  it,  you  are  hastening  to 
damnation,  and  you  are  every  day  aclay  nearer  to 
it  than  before  ;  and  it  is  but  a  little  while  till  you 
shall  feel  it.  — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(1442.)  If  thy  dead  heart  were  but  well  awakened 
to  consider  and  feel  thy  own  condition,  thou  wouldst 
be  quickly  affrighted  out  of  thy  delay,  and  run  ai> 
hastily  from  thy  slate  of  sin,  as  thou  wouldst  out  of 
a  house  all  on  fire  over  thy  head,  or  out  of  a  boat 
sinking  under  thee.     What,  hast  thou  not  ye»  served 


CONVERSION. 


\     255     ) 


CONVERSION. 


the  devil  long  enough?  Hast  thou  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently abused  Christ,  n<  t  oft  enough  rejected  the 
grace  of  God  !  Hast  thou  not  yet  wallowed  long 
enough  in  the  filth  of  sin?  But  must  thou  needs 
have  more  of  it?  Hast  tiiou  not  yet  done  enough 
to  the  destruction  of  thy  soul?  Not  drunk  in 
enough  of  that  deadly  poison,  nor  stabbed  thyself 
sufficiently  by  thy  wickedness,  but  thou  must  needs 
have  more?  Will  sin  come  up  easier,  when  it  is 
deeper  rooted  ?  and  canst  thou  more  easily  be  con- 
verted, when  thou  hast  driven  away  the  Spirit  of 
God  that  should  convert  thee?  Wilt  thou  travel 
out  of  thy  way  till  night,  before  thou  wilt  turn  back 
again  ?  And  wilt  thou  drive  the  nail  yet  faster  to 
the  head,  which  thou  knowest  must  be  drawn  out 
again  ?  Oh,  be  not  wilfully  befooled  by  sin.  Wilt 
thou  be  converted,  or  wilt  thou  not?  If  not,  thou 
art  a  lost  man.  If  thou  know  thou  must,  why  not 
to-day  rather  than  to-morrow?  What  reason  have 
you  for  any  longer  delay  ?  Is  a  state  of  sin,  or  a 
state  of  grace  better  ?  If  sin  be  better,  keep  it,  and 
make  the  best  of  it  :  but  if  grace,  and  happiness, 
and  holiness  be  better,  why  then  should  you  delay  ? 
If  you  were  sick,  you  would  not  care  how  soon  you 
were  well  :  and  if  you  had  a  bone  broken,  you  care 
not  how  soon  it  were  set,  and  when  your  soul  is 
in  a  state  of  sin  and  misery,  are  you  afraid  of  being 
safe  and  happy  too  soon  ?     — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1443.)  You  may  put  God  to  it  to  fetch  you  in  by 
some  sharp  affliction,  and  send  out  so  churlisii  a 
messenger  to  call  you  home  as  may  make  you  wish 
you  had  hearkened  to  a  more  gentle  call  ;  when  the 
sheep  will  straggle,  the  dog  must  be  sent  to  affright 
them  home.  Many  foolish  sinners  make  light  of 
the  gentle  invitations  of  grace,  and  they  stand 
hovering  between  their  sins  and  Christ  ;  and  some- 
times they  have  a  mind  to  turn,  and  the  next 
temptation  they  are  off  again,  and  then  they  come 
on  again  coldly  and  with  half  a  heart  ;  and  thus 
they  stand  trifling  with  the  God  of  heaven  till  He  is 
fain  to  take  another  course  with  them,  and  resolves 
to  use  some  sharper  means  ;  and  when  He  layeth 
them  under  His  rod,  and  they  can  neither  fly  from, 
nor  resist  Him,  bui  see  that  their  lives  and  souls 
are  at  His  mercy,  then  they  begin  to  look  about 
them  and  see  their  folly,  and  change  their  minds. 
You  can  tarry,  and  delay,  and  dally  with  the  dread- 
ful God  in  the  time  of  your  prosperity,  and  we  may 
ask  you  over  and  over,  whether  you  will  turn  before 
we  can  have  a  hearty  answer  ;  but  what  will  you 
do  when  God  shall  begin  to  frown,  and  when  He 
takes  you  in  hand  by  His  irresistible  power,  and 
lets  loose  upon  you  the  terrors  of  His  wrath?  Will 
you  then  make  as  light  of  His  mercy  as  you  do 
now?  Have  you  not  read  how  small  an  appari- 
tion of  His  anger  did  make  a  carousing  king  look 
pale,  and  his  joints  to  tremble  in  the  midst  of  his 
joviality?  (iJan.  v.  6.)  A  iManasseh  will  bethink 
Inuiself  and  come  in  when  he  is  laid  in  irons,  though 
he  could  set  light  by  God  liefore.  (2  Chron.  x-xxiii. 
13.)  If  Jonaii  will  run  away  from  God,  He  can 
send  a  boisterous  messenger  to  arrest  him,  and  cast 
him  as  it  were  into  the  belly  of  hell,  and  make 
him  cry  for  mercy  to  Him  whom  he  disobeyed.  So 
if  you  will  stand  trifling  with  God,  and  will  not  by 
fair  means  be  persuaded  to  yield  and  come  away, 
you  may  shortly  look  to  hear  from  Him  in  another 
Hianner  ;  for   Ho  hath  a  voice  that  will  make  the 

Eroudest    face    look    pale,    and    the   most    stubborn 
eart  to  tremble.      If  an  idle,  stubborn  child  will 


not  learn  nor  be  ruled,  the  master  or  parent  will 
teach  him  with  the  rod,  and  give  him  a  lash,  and 
ask  him,  "  Will  you  yet  learn  ?  "  and  another  lash, 
and  ask  him,  "  What  say  you  now,  will  you  yet 
obey?"  So  will  God  do  by  yim,  if  He  love  you, 
and  means  to  save  you  ;  when  He  hath  taken  away 
your  wealth,  your  friends,  your  children,  will  you 
then  hearken  to  Him  or  will  you  not  ?  When  you 
lie  groaning  on  your  couch,  and  all  your  parts  are 
overwhelmed  with  pains,  and  death  begins  to  lay 
hands  upon  you,  and  bids  you  now  come  and 
answer  for  your  rebellions  and  delays  before  the 
living  God,  what  will  you  do  then  ?  Will  you  turn 
or  not  ?  Oh,  the  lamentable  folly  of  sinners,  that 
put  themselves  to  so  much  sorrow,  and  great 
calamity  for  themselves.  When  sickness  comes, 
and  death  draws  near,  you  beg,  and  cry,  and 
groan,  and  promise  :  when  you  leel  the  rod,  what 
Christians  will  you  then  be  !  And  why  not  without 
so  much  ado?  You  then  think  God  deals  some- 
what hardly  with  you,  and  why  will  you  not  turn 
then  by  gentler  means  ?  You  might  spare  your- 
selves much  of  this  misery  if  you  would,  and  you 
will  not.  Is  it  a  seemly  thing  for  a  man  to  be 
driven  to  heaven  by  scourges?  Is  God  so  bad  a 
Master,  and  heaven  so  bad  a  place,  that  you  will 
not  turn  to  them  and  mind  them,  and  seek  them, 
till  there  be  no  remedy,  and  you  are,  as  it  were, 
driven  to  it  against  your  will  ?  Is  the  world  such 
an  inheritance,  and  sin  so  good  a  thing,  and  the 
flesh  or  devil  so  good  a  master,  that  you  will  not 
leave  them  till  you  are  whipped  away?  What  a 
shameful,  unreasonable  course  is  this? 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

3.  Because  life  Is  so  uncertain. 

{1444.)  To  all  who  seek  Him  through  a  Re- 
deemer, He  is  merciful  and  gracious,  long-suffering 
and  slow  to  wrath,  abundant  in  goodness  and  in 
truth.  Our  highest  interests,  therefore,  our  present, 
and  future,  and  eternal  happiness,  lie  in  yielding 
implicit  and  immediate  obedience  to  the  call, 
"  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  He  may  be  found."  How 
does  the  lapse  of  years,  the  close  of  every  day, 
enforce  it  ?  The  setting  sun  ;  the  clouds  that,  like 
the  infirmities  of  age,  gather  round  his  sinking 
head  ;  the  fading  light  ;  the  workman  wending 
homeward,  the  peasant  leaving  his  plough  in  the 
furrow,  the  weaver  his  shuttle  on  the  loom  ;  the 
larks  that  have  dropped  out  of  silent  skies  ;  the 
birils  sitting  mute  on  the  branches ;  the  flowers 
with  their  eyes  closed  and  leaves  folc'ed  up  ;  the 
tenants  of  lone  cottages  and  crowded  city  retiring 
to  rest  ;  and  by  and  by  the  silence  of  a  world 
wrapped  in  darkness  and  sleep — these  are  suggestive 
to  a  ihoughtfid  mind  of  the  close  of  life,  the  sleep 
of  death,  and  our  bed  beneath  a  grassy  sod.  And 
each  night  that  sun,  whose  lines  go  throughout  all 
the  earth,  and  his  words  to  the  ends  of  the  world, 
with  llie  heavens  for  his  puljiit  and  the  world  for 
his  audience,  seems  as  he  leaves  us  to  say,  "Work 
while  it  is  called  to-day,  seeing  that  the  night 
cometh  when  no  man  can  work."  — Gut  line. 

4.  Because  the  work  will  never  be  less  diflBcult. 

(1445.)  ^  "cnzx^  that  waits  for  a  more  convenient 
season  for  thinking  about  the  affairs  of  iiis  soul,  is 
like  the  countryman  in  ylisop's  fable,  who  sat  down 
by  a  flowing  river,  saying,  "  If  this  stream  continue? 
to  How  as  it  does  now  for  a  little  while  it  will  empty 
itself,  and  1  shall   walk  over  dry-shod."     Ali,    liui 


CONVERSION. 


(     256    ) 


CONVERSION. 


the  stream  was  just  as  deep  when  he  had  waited 
day  after  day  as  it  was  before.  And  so  shall  it  be 
with  you.  — Spurgeon. 

6.  Because  delay  multiplies  Its  dlfQcultles. 

{1446.)  Dost  thou  not  find  by  experience  that  the 
loni;er  thou  delayeth,  the  farther  thou  wanderest 
from  God  and  holiness,  and  the  more  unfit  thou 
art  for,  and  the  more  unwilling  unto,  the  work  of 
conversion  ?  Is  it  not  time  therefore  to  turn  with 
speed,  when  continuance  in  sin  insensibly  hardeneth 
thy  heart,  and  gradually  indisposeth  it  more  to  the 
work  of  repentance?  As  the  ground,  so  is  thy 
heart,  the  lunger  it  lieth  fallow,  not  ploughed  up, 
the  harder  it  will  be.  Wilt  thou  go  one  step 
farther  from  God,  when  thou  must  come  back  every 
step,  and  that  by  Weeping-cross  all  the  way,  or  be 
damned  for  ever  ?  The  purchase  of  heaven  is  like 
buying  the  Sibyl's  prophecies,  the  longer  thou 
boldest  off,  the  dearer.  A  stain  which  has  been 
long  in  clothes  is  not  easily  washed  out ;  a  house 
that  hath  long  run  to  ruin  will  require  the  more 
cost  and  labour  for  its  reparation  ;  diseases  tliat 
have  been  long  in  the  body  are  cured,  if  at  all, 
yet  with  much  difliculty.  The  devil  which  had 
possessed  the  man  from  his  infancy  was  hardly  cast 
out,  and  not  without  much  renting  and  raging 
(Mark  ix.  21-26).  Satan  thinks  his  evidence  as 
good  as  eleven  points  at  law,  now  he  hath  once  got 
possession ;  and  the  longer  he  continueth  com- 
mander-in-chief in  the  royal  fort  of  thy  heart,  the 
more  he  fortifie'h  it  against  God,  and  strengtheneth 
himself  against  the  Almighty.  All  the  while  thou 
delayest,  God  is  more  provoked,  the  wicked  one 
more  encouraged,  thy  heart  more  hardened,  thy 
debts  more  increased,  thy  soul  more  endangered, 
and  all  the  difficulties  of  conversion  daily  more  and 
more  multiplied  upon  thee,  having  a  day  more  to 
repent  of,  and  a  day  less  to  repent  in. 

— Swinnockf  1 673. 

(1447.)  It  is  true  indeed  there  is  in  every  man  a 
moral  indisposition  to  a  spiritual  renovation,  but 
the  indisposition  is  greater  when  the  habits  of  sin 
are  more  than  ordinarily  strengthened.  The  more 
the  soul  is  frozen,  the  harder  it  will  be  to  melt.  A 
body  dead  some  few  hours  is  a  subject  more  capable 
of  having  life  breathed  into  it  than  when  it  is  putre- 
fied and  partly  mouldered  to  dust.  A  young  tree 
may  more  easily  be  taken  up  and  transplanted  than 
a  strong  old  oak,  which  has  spread  its  roots  deep 
into  the  earth.  The  more  rooted  the  habit  of  sin, 
the  harder  the  alternation  of  the  soul.  Every  sin  in 
an  uniegenerate  man  is  an  adding  a  new  stone  to 
the  former  heap  upon  the  grave  to  hinder  his  resur- 
rection. It  is  a  fetter  and  bond  (Acts  viii.  23); 
bond  of  iniquity,  and  the  more  new  chains  are  put 
upon  thee,  the  more  unable  wilt  thou  be  to  stir. 
The  habits  of  sin  will  become  the  more  natural  to 
the  soul,  and  fortify  themselves  with  new  recruits. 
— Charnock,  1 628- 1 680. 

(1448.)  The  longer  you  stay,  the  more  leisure 
you  give  the  devil  to  assault  you,  and  to  try  one 
way  when  he  cannot  prevail  by  another,  and  to 
strengthen  his  temptations  :  like  a  foolish  soldier 
tliat  will  stand  still  to  be  shot  at,  rather  than  assault 
the  enemy. 

And  the  longer  you  delay,  the  more  your  sin  gets 
strength  and  rooting.  1  f  you  cannot  bend  a  twig, 
how  will  J  lu  be  able  to  bend  it  when  it  is  a  tree  ? 


If  you  cannot  pluck  up  a  tender  plant,  are  you  mor« 
likely  to  pluck  up  a  sturdy  oak  ?  Custom  givei 
strength  and  root  to  vices.  A  blackamoor  may  as 
well  change  his  skin,  01  a  leopard  his  spots,  as 
those  that  are  accustomed  to  do  evil  can  learn  to 
do  well  (Jer.  xiii.  23).  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1449.)  Men  are  apt  to  persuade  themselves  that 
they  shall  find  it  an  easy  matter  to  grow  virtuous  as 
they  grow  old.  But  it  is  a  way  of  arguing  highly 
irrational  and  fallacious.  For  that  is  a  maxim  of 
eternal  truth,  and  nothing  grows  weak  with  age 
but  that  which  will  die  at  length  with  age,  which  sin 
never  does.  The  longer  a  blot  continues,  the  deeper 
it  sinks.  And  it  will  be  found  a  work  of  no  small 
difficulty  to  dispossess  and  throw  out  a  vice  from 
that  heart  where  long  possessions  begins  to  plead 
prescription.  — South,  1633-17 16. 

(1450.)  There  is  less  hope  for  us  each  year  and 
day  we  live  in  sin.  Every  hour  we  are  dfifting  out 
to  sea — the  helpless,  helmless  barque  is  leaving  the 
lessening  shore  farther  and  farther  behind.  Our 
disease  becomes  incurable.  Like  those  stones 
which,  though  soft  as  clay  on  being  raised  from  the 
quarry,  grow  hard  as  flint  through  exposure  to  the 
weather,  our  hearts  are  erowing  harder  day  by  day. 

— Guthrie. 

(145 1.)  Sin  is  like  the  descent  of  a  hill,  where 
every  step  we  take  increases  the  difficulty  of  our 
return.  Sin  is  like  a  river  in  its  course ;  the  longer 
it  runs  it  wears  a  deeper  channel,  and  the  farther 
from  the  fountain  it  swells  in  volume  and  acquires 
a  greater  strength.  Sin  is  like  a  tree  in  its  pro- 
gress ;  the  longer  it  grows,  it  spreads  its  roots  the 
wider ;  grows  taller  ;  grows  thicker  ;  till  the  sap- 
ling which  once  an  infant's  arm  could  bend  raises 
its  head  aloft,  defiant  of  the  storm.  Sin  in  its 
habits  becomes  stronger  every  day — the  heart  grows 
harder  ;  the  conscience  grows  duller  ;  the  distance 
between  God  and  the  soul  grows  greater ;  and, 
like  a  rock  hurled  from  the  mountain's  top,  the 
farther  we  descend,  we  go  down,  and  down,  and 
down,  with  greater  and  greater  rapidity.  How 
easy,  for  example,  is  it  to  touch  the  conscience  of 
childhood  ;  but  how  difficult  to  break  in  on  the 
torpor  of  a  hoary  head  !  A  child,  with  few  sins  on 
his  young  head,  will  tremble  at  the  idea  of  death 
and  judgment ;  while  the  old  man  lies  on  his 
dying  beti,  and  whether  you  thunder  in  his  ears  the 
terrors  of  a  broken  law,  or,  holding  up  the  cross 
before  his  dim  eyes,  tell  him  of  the  love  of  Jesus, 
no  tears  run  down  these  furrowed  cheeks,  nor 
prayers  move  lips,  whose  oaths  are  recorded  in  the 
books  of  judgment. 

1  know  that  God,  bending  stubborn  knees,  and 
breaking  the  hardest  heart,  can  call  at  the  eleventh 
hour.  Is  anything  too  hard  for  Me  ?  saith  the  Lord, 
He  saves  at  the  very  uttermost.  But  I  would  say 
to  him  who  tries  how  near  he  may  go  to  hell,  and 
yet  be  saved — it  is  a  dangerous  experiment — a 
desperate  venture.  It  provokes  God  to  recall  His 
Spirit,  and  leave  you  to  your  fate,  saying,  "  Me  is 
joined  to  his  idols,  let  him  alone."        — Guthrie, 

(1452.)  Not  without  the  strongest  reason  does  the 
wise  man  address  himself  to  the  young,  saying, 
"  Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  ol  thy 
youth  ; "  for  the  difficulty  of  resisting  the  bad  and 
corrupt  passions  of  our  nature  grows  with  man's 
1  growth,  and  strengthens  with  his  strength.     Some 


CONVERSION, 


(    257    ) 


CONVERSION. 


things  become  weak,  and  wear  away  by  use ;  but 
not  the  power  of  sin.  Like  the  muscles  of  a  black- 
smith's brawny  arm,  the  more  it  is  used  the  stronger 
it  grows  ;  and  thus  all  sinners,  as  well  as  "seducers, 
wax  worse  and  worse."  The  dead  become  twice 
dead  ;  the  dry  bones  more  dry.  Every  new  act  of 
sin  casts  up  an  additional  impediment  in  our  way 
of  return  to  virtue,  and  to  God  ;  until  that  which 
was  once  only  a  molehill  swells  into  a  mountain 
that  nothing  can  remove,  but  the  faith  at  whose 
bidding  mountains  are  removed,  and  cast  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea.  — Giiihiic. 

(1453.)  There  is  a  sense  in  which  the  difficulties 
of  conversion  increase  with  years — every  year  adding 
strength  to  our  sinful  habits  ;  deepening,  as  by  the 
constant  flow  of  water,  the  channels  in  which  they 
run.  — Gutkiu:. 

(1454.)  Who,  wishing  to  give  a  sapling  a  peculiar 
bend,  would  wait  till  the  nursling  had  become  a 
full-grown  tree,  or  stood  in  its  decay,  stiiT  and 
gnarled,  hollow  in  the  heart  and  hoar  with  age? 
None  but  a  fool.  Yet,  with  folly  greater  still,  we 
defer  what  concerns  our  conversion,  a  saving  change, 
and  our  everlasting  welfare,  till  long  years  have 
added  to  the  power,  and  strengthened  the  roots  of 
every  wicked,  worldly  habit  1  — Gictkrie. 

(1455.)  It  is  painful  now  to  tear  the  world  from 
our  hearts — when  the  love  of  it  has  grown  with  our 
/jrowth,  and  strengthened  with  our  strength,  when 
it  has  spread  its  roots  wider,  and  struck  them  deeper, 
to  tear  it  up  will  demand  a  mightier  effort,  and 
indict  a  greater  pain.  If  sin  has  already  so  seared 
the  conscience,  that  we  can  hear  another  St.  Paul 
reason  of  "  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judg- 
ment," nor  tremble  in  our  seats  as  the  Roman 
trembled  on  his  throne,  in  what  state  shall  our  con- 
science be  when  the  sins  of  future  years  have 
passed  over  it  like  a  hot  iron — searing,  till,  all 
sensibility  destroyed,  it  becomes  as  hard  as  horn  ; 
like  callous  flesh,  which  the  knife  finds  it  difficult 
to  penetrate,  and  impossible  to  pain?  This  is 
no  exaggeration.  Of  all  tasks,  we  know  none  so 
difficult  as  to  touch  the  feelings,  and  rouse  the 
conscience  of  godless  old  age.  — Guthrie. 

%.  Because  delay  Is  so  foolish. 

(1456.)  In  other  cases,  common  sense  prompteth 
men  to  proceed  otherwise  ;  for  who,  having  ren- 
dered one  his  enemy  that  far  overmatcheth  him, 
and  at  whose  mercy  he  standeth,  will  not  instantly 
sue  to  be  reconciled  ?  Who,  being  seized  by  a 
pernicious  disease,  will  not  haste  to  seek  a  cure? 
Who,  being  fallen  into  the  jaws  of  a  terrible 
dangei,  v/ill  not  nimbly  leap  out  thence?  And 
such  plainly  is  our  case  ;  while  we  persist  in  sin  we 
live  in  enmity  and  defiance  with  the  Almighty, 
who  can  at  His  pleasure  crush  us  ;  we  lie  under  a 
fatal  plague,  which,  if  we  do  not  seasonably  repent, 
will  certainly  destroy  us  ;  we  incur  the  most  (iread- 
ful  of  all  hazards,  abiding  in  the  confines  of  death 
and  destruction  ;  God  frowning  at  us,  guilt  holding 
us,  hell  gaping  for  us  :  every  sinner  is,  accordi-ig 
to  the  wise  man's  expression,  "as  he  that  lieth 
down  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  or  as  he  that  lieth 
upon  the  top  of  a  mast."  And  he  that  is  in  such 
a  case,  is  he  not  mad  or  senseless,  if  he  will  not 
forthwith  labour  to  swim  out  thence,  or  make  all 
speed  to  get  down  into  a  vafer  place  ?     On  any 


man  with  comfort  lodge  in  a  condition  so  disntallj 
ticklish?  — Barrow,  1630- 167  7. 

7.  Because  late  conversions  are  so  rare. 

(1457.)  A  pious  old  age,  following  a  youth  of 
vice  and  a  manhood  of  worldliness  and  indifference 
to  religion,  is  not  the  rule,  but  the  exception — and 
a  rare  exception.  There  is  a  close  analogy  heie 
between  the  phenomena  of  the  material  and  the 
spiritual  world  ;  conversions  in  old  age,  or  advanced 
manhood,  being  as  uncommon  as  a  fme  afternoon 
with  cloudless  skies  and  a  glowing  sunset,  unless 
the  rain  ceases,  and  the  weather  clear  before 
twelve  o'clock.  — Guthrie. 

(1458.)  Judging  by  results,  old  age  is,  of  all  the 
ages  of  life,  the  least  fitted  for  the  work  of  salva- 
tion. No  doubt  we  have  read  of  hoary  sinners 
becoming  as  little  children,  and  turning  to  Grd  ; 
but  m  the  experience  of  r.iv;ie  than  thirty  years  we 
have  never  met  with  one  such  case. 

At  the  close  of  a  dark  and  stormy  day,  wc  have 
seen  the  sun  break  forth  at  his  setting,  to  bathe  the 
whole  landscape  in  a  flood  of  glory,  and  having 
painted  a  rainbow  on  the  storm-cloud,  to  sink  to 
rest  amid  the  odours  of  flowers,  and  the  joyful  songs 
of  groves  and  skies,  liut  whatever  others  may  have 
done,  we  have  met  nothing  corresponding  to  this  in 
the  realm  of  spirits  ;  not  one  old  man  who  lived 
the  life  of  the  wicked,  and  died  the  death  of  the 
righteous.  I  am  not  speaking  of  those  who,  in 
circumstances  that  were  more  their  misfonune  than 
their  fault,  had  no  opportunity  of  knowing  the 
truth  till  they  were  old — who,  like  the  penitent 
thief,  perhaps  received  tl;eir  first  as  well  as  last 
offer  of  a  Saviour  at  death  ;  never  had  Christ 
in  their  offer,  as  Simeon  never  had  Him  in  his 
arms,  till  their  eyes  were  dim,  and  their  heads  were 
gray  with  age.  I  speak  of  those  who  have  gone 
vSabbath  after  Sabbath  to  the  house  of  God,  when- 
ever Christ  was  brought  forward,  to  reject  Him, 
and  cry,  like  the  Jews  of  old,  "  We  will  not  have 
this  man  to  rule  over  us."  — Guthrid. 

8  Because  the  reatily  of  late  conversions  la 
always  doubtful. 

(1459.)  The  possibility  of  conversion  at  the 
eleventh  hour  I  do  not  deny  ;  still,  its  reality  is 
exceedingly  doubtful. 

Take  the  case,  for  instance,  of  a  convicted  thief. 
You  find  him  where  silver-plate,  gold,  and  jev\els 
glitter  temptations  on  his  eye.  Alarmed,  you  reckon 
up  your  money,  examine  your  treasures,  to  be  agree- 
ably disa])pointed.  'I'hey  are  safe  ;  and  you  natu- 
rally conclude  that  he  has  turned  over  a  new  leaf, 
and  become  an  honest  man.  But,  however,  willing  to 
judge  charitably,  how  would  your  confidence  in  him 
vanish  on  discovering  that  his  hands  were  shackled, 
and  that,  though  it  was  in  his  heart,  it  was  not  in 
his  power  to  rob  you  ?  So  far  as  many  gross  vices 
are  concerned,  such  is  exactly  the  position  of  hoary- 
headed  sinners.  Age  has  frozen  their  passions, 
and  unfitted  them  for  pleasures  after  which  they  once 
"ran  greedily  ;"  and  so  many  infirmities  have  come 
with  years,  that  a  regard  to  health,  and  to  life 
itself,  forcing  them  to  refrain  from  debauchery,  pro- 
duces an  apparent  reformation.  A  boat  rotten  in 
every  plank,  and  gaping  at  every  seam,  has  to 
avoid  the  seas  and  swell  that  others  brave  ;  and  it 
were  death  to  old  men  to  venture  on  debaucheries 
in  which  others  indulge.     Thus  the  decorum  which 


CONVERSION. 


(     258    ) 


CONVERSION 


\n  some  cases  marks  the  closing  years  of  such  as 
had  been  notorio'js  for  vice,  may  be  due  to  other 
causes  than  an  inAard,  saving,  and  gracious  change. 
The  lion  has  not  become  a  lamb  when  he  has  lost 
his  teeth.  — Guthrie, 

(1460.)  Here  is  a  hoary  penitent.  Poor  old  man, 
he  trembles  to  hear  of  death  and  judgment  ;  his 
aged  limbs  carry  him  to  what  he  once  neglected  — 
the  house  of  God  ;  the  glasses  through  which  he 
scans  his  Hible  are  hetlewed  and  dimmed  with 
tears  ;  bitterly  lamenting  his  sins,  he  warns  others  ; 
and  on  knees  unused  to  benil,  pours  forth  prayers  for 
pardon  in  tonesof  deepest  earnestness.  It  seems  cruel 
to  entertain  doubts  of  such  a  case.  Ikit  what  is  it 
we  doubt  ?  Not  that  he  is  sorry  for  his  sins,  after  a 
fashion  ;  not  but  that  he  would  give  a  world,  which 
he  must  any  way  soon  part  from,  to  be  saved.  In 
this  case  we  may  cling  to  the  hope  that  He  who 
can  save  to  the  uttermost,  has  called  him  at  the 
eleventh  hour  ;  still  this  sorrow  may  only  correspond 
to  what  the  felon  feels  for  crimes  which  have  brought 
him  to  the  gallows,  cut  short  a  mad  and  guilty 
career.  Sorrow  for  sin  and  wishes  to  be  saved  ? 
What  death-condemned  man  does  not  fee!  these? 
does  not  bitterly  lament  the  hour  he  embrued  his 
hands  in  blood  ?  does  not  petition  the  crown  to 
spare  his  life?  would  not  give  the  world  for  a  file 
to  cut  his  chain;  for  a  key  to  unlock  his  prison? 
Repentance  for  crimes  at  the  foot  of  a  gallows  is  not 
more  open  to  suspicion  than  repentance  for  sins  on 
the  brink  of  a  burning  hell.  — Guthrie, 

(1461.)  Solemn  warnings  have  come  from  scaf- 
folds :  but  no  one  standing  on  the  brink  of  time,  with 
the  white  cap  on  his  head,  and  his  feet  trembling 
on  the  drop,  as  he  made  his  last  speech  to  the 
awe-struck  crowd,  ever  uttered  voice  so  full  of 
warning  as  the  recorded  exjierience  of  the  chajjlain 
of  a  large  gaol  in  England.  With  the  death-bell 
slowly  tolling,  he  had  accompanied  many  to  the 
scaffold,  and  also  prepared  not  a  few  for  execution 
who  were  unexpectedly  rejirieved.  Of  these  a 
large  number  seemed  to  be  converted.  Their  re- 
pentance appeared  sincere  ;  and  had  they  sulTered 
the  penalty  of  their  crimes,  he  and  others  would 
have  believed  that,  whom  earth  rejected.  Heaven 
in  its  mercy  had  received  for  the  sake  of  Christ's 
righteousness ;  acquitting  at  its  bar  those  whom 
man  had  condemned  at  his.  But  they  were  spared 
to  lead  a  new  life  ?  Alas,  no  !  Thrown  back  into 
the  world,  the  reality  of  their  conversion  was  ]3ut  to 
the  test.  The  glittering  coin  was  tested,  exposed 
to  a  fiery  trial  ;  and  what  deceived  others,  deceived 
perhaps  themselves,  proved  counterfeit.  With 
hardly  an  exception,  all  who  seemed  to  be  con- 
verted within  the  prison,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
gallows — in  circumstances  to  be  condemned  corre- 
sponding with  old  age  and  the  closing  days  of  life, 
returned  to  their  former  courses;  went  back  like 
the  dog  to  his  vomit,  and  the  sow  that  is  washed  to 
her  wallowing  in  the  mire.  A  melancholy  fact  ! 
What  a  dark  suspicion  does  it  cast  on  late  conver- 
sions? In  these  cases  the  sun  that  sets  on  this 
world  may  rise  to  shine  in  the  better  ;  but  dark 
clouds  obscure  such  a  close  of  life  ;  and  so  long  as 
men  will  risk  their  souls  on  these  desperate  ven- 
tures, however  trite  the  remark,  it  cannot  be  too 
often,  or  too  loudly,  or  too  solemnly  repeated,  that 
the  Bible,  which  ranges  over  a  period  of  four  thou- 
■•n:'  years,  records  but  one  instance  of  a  death-bed 


conversion — one  that  none  may  despair,  and  but  one 
that  none  may  presume.  — Guthrie, 

VHI.  IN  WHAT  SENSE  IT  IS  INSTANTA- 
NEOUS. 

(1462.)  When  you  are  weighing  things  in  the 
balance  you  may  add  grain  after  grain,  and  it  makes 
no  turning  or  motion  at  all  till  you  come  to  the 
very  last  grain,  and  then  suddenly  that  end  which 
was  downward  is  turned  upward.  When  you  stand 
at  a  loss  between  two  highways,  not  knowing 
which  way  to  go,  as  long  as  you  deliberate  you 
stand  still  ;  all  the  rea.sons  that  come  into  your 
mind  do  not  stir  you  ;  but  the  last  reason  which 
resolves  you  sets  you  in  motion.  So  it  is  (most 
often)  in  a  sinner's  heart  and  life  ;  he  is  not 
changed  (but  preparing  towards  it)  while  he  is 
deliberating  whether  he  should  choose  Christ  or 
the  world.  But  the  last  reason  which  comes  in 
and  determines  his  will  to  Christ,  and  makes  him 
resolve  and  enter  a  firm  covenant  with  Him,  this 
makes  a  greater  change  than  even  is  made  by  any 
work  in  the  world.  For  how  can  there  be  a  greater 
than  a  turning  of  the  soul  from  the  creature 
to  the  Creator?  So  distant  are  the  terms 
of  this  change.  After  this  one  turning;  act  Christ 
hath  that  heart,  and  the  main  heart  and  endeavours 
of  the  life,  which  the  world  had  before.  The  man 
hath  a  new  end,  a  new  guide,  and  a  new  master. 
Before  the  flesh  and  the  devil  were  his  masters,  and 
now  Christ  is  his  master.  .So  that  you  must  not 
think  so  meanly  of  the  turning,  determining,  re- 
solving act  of  grace,  because  it  lieth  but  in  a  gradual 
difference  naturally  from  common  grace.  If  a 
prince  should  offer  a  condemned  beggar  to  marry 
her,  and  to  pardon  her,  and  to  make  her  his  queen, 
her  deliberation  may  be  the  way  to  her  consent,  and 
one  reason  after  another  may  bring  her  near  to  con- 
senting. But  it  is  that  which  turns  her  will  to  con- 
sent, resolve,  covenant,  and  deliver  herself  to  him, 
which  makes  the  great  change  in  her  state.  Yet 
all  the  foregoing  work  of  common  grace  hath  3 
hand  in  the  change,  though  only  the  turning  re 
solution  do  effect  it  :  it  is  the  rest  with  this  thai 
doth  it  :  as  when  the  last  grain  turns  the  scales,  the 
former  do  concur.  — Baxter^  1615-1691, 

IX.    MUST  BE  THOROUGH. 

(1463.)  As  a  man  purposing  to  destroy  a  tree,  yet 
doth  no  more  than  lop  off  certain  boughs,  leaving 
the  stump  and  root  behind,  deceiveth  himself:  even 
so,  likewise,  so  long  as  concupiscence  doth  live  in 
men.  They  may  seem  in  the  eyes  of  men  to  be 
great  converts,  if,  of  ignorant  idiots,  they  are  be- 
come such  as  have  gotten  some  skill  or  knowledge  ; 
or  as  if,  of  drunkards,  rufifians,  adulterers,  and  such 
like,  they  have  become  sober  and  modest  and  of 
good  behaviour — all  this  may  be  done  before  men, 
and  yet  the  heart  nothing  altered  before  God  ;  for 
there  be  many  causes  which  may  move  men  to  seem 
outwardly  to  be  godly,  when  the  heart  within  is 
fraught  with  loathsome  lusts,  which  make  them  still 
altogether  abominable  before  God,  and  thus  they 
have  hereby  gained  nothing. 

— Cawdray,  1 598-1664. 

(1464.)  If  you  do  not  go  through  with  the  work 
when  you  are  u])on  it,  you  may  make  it  more  diffi- 
cult than  it  was  before  you  meddled  with  it,  and 
make  it  a  very  doubtful  case  whether  ever  it  will  be 


CONVERSIOM. 


(    259    ) 


CONVERSION. 


done.  As  it  is  with  a  wound  :  if  you  tamper  with 
it  with  salves  that  are  not  agreeable  to  it,  or  are 
disorderly  a|)plied  ;  or  if  you  skin  it  over  before  it 
be  searclied  to  the  bottom,  it  must  be  opened  ngain, 
and  will  cost  you  double  jiain  before  it  be  cured. 
Or  as  I  have  seen  it  with  some  that  have  had  a  bone 
broken,  or  out  of  joint,  anil  it  hath  been  set  amiss 
at  first :  Oh,  what  torments  were  tlie  poor  creatures 
fain  to  undergo,  in  having  it  broken,  or  stretched 
and  set  again,  which  miglit  have  been  spared,  if  it 
had  been  thoroughly  done  at  first.  So,  if  you  will 
shrink,  and  will  not  go  to  the  quick,  you  will  make 
your  conversion  much  more  difficult;  you  must  be 
brought  to  it  again,  and  fetch  your  groans  yet  deeper 
than  before,  and  weep  over  all  your  former  tears  ; 
your  doubts  will  be  multiplied  ;  your  fears  and 
sorrows  will  be  increased  ;  and  all  will  go  sorer  with 
you  than  at  first.  Oh  what  a  case  will  you  be  in, 
when  your  sores  must  be  lanced  a  second  time,  and 
your  bones,  as  it  were,  broken  again  I  Then  you 
will  wish  you  had  gone  through  with  it  at  the  first. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1465.)  That  scholar  is  never  like  to  read  well 
that  will  needs  be  in  his  gramnier  before  he  is  out 
of  his  primer.  Cloth  that  is  not  wrought  well  in 
the  loom  will  never  wear  well,  nor  wear  long  ;  so 
that  Christian  that  has  not  a  thorough  work  of  grace 
begun  deeply  in  his  heart,  will  never  wear  well  ;  he 
will  shrink  in  the  wetting,  and  never  do  much 
iervice  for  God.  — Mead,  1629- 1699. 

X.  IS  ONLY  THE  BEGINNING  OP  THE 
CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 

(1466.)  Conversion  may  be  the  work  of  a 
moment,  but  a  saint  is  not  made  in  an  hour. 
Character — Christian  character — is  not  an  act,  but 
a  process ;  not  a  sudden  creation,  but  a  develop- 
ment. It  grows  and  bears  fruit  like  a  tree,  and, 
like  a  tree,  it  requires  a  patient  care  and  unwearied 
cultivation. 

(•1467.)  No  man  was  ever  converted  to  Chris- 
tianity at  one  flash.  No  man  ever  built  a  house  at  a 
single  blow,  except  in  a  summer  dream.  When  we 
shut  our  eyes,  and  are  architects  of  reverie,  we  can 
build  woilds;  we  can  multiply  the  dew-drop  till  it 
swings  like  a  crystal  sphere  in  the  realms  of  space. 
We  can  create  cities,  we  can  cause  millions  of  troops 
to  spring  u[),  we  can  po]nilate  heaven  and  earth,  by 
reverie  ;  but  no  man  ever  did  anything  worth  doing 
— anything  complex,  large,  noble — by  reverie. 
Many  suppose  that  when  a  man  is  converted  by  the 
power  of  God,  the  Spirit  of  God  acts  as  the  light- 
ning acts — instantaneously.  !'>ut  suppose  it  does, 
did  yju  ever  know  the  lightning  to  strike  a  moun- 
tain and  instantly  clear  away  all  the  dross  and  leave 
nothing  but  pure  gold,  in  the  shape  of  coin,  with 
the  superscription  of  the  government  ujion  it,  and 
waiting  for  men  to  use  it  ?  When  you  see  the  metal 
in  a  mountain  set  free  by  a  stroke  of  lightning,  you 
may  expect  to  see  a  man  set  free  from  the  circum- 
stances of  life  by  conversion  with  overpowering 
suddenness. 

The  conversion  by  wliich  tl.e  Spirit  of  God  starts 
a  man,  just  starts  him  that  is  all.  It  turns  him 
away  from  the  wrong  direction.  It  turns  him  to- 
ward the  right  model.  It  gives  his  heart  an  inspira- 
tion for  things  higher,  md  then  says  to  him,  "  Work 
out  your  salvation."  — Beecher. 


(1468.}  Men  wish  to  be  converted  so  that  the 
whole  feld  shall  be  cleared,  and  so  that  they  will, 
have  nothing  to  do  but'  to  go  right  foiward  in  the 
new  life.  'I'hey  lielieve,  as  it  were,  that  if  God  will 
only  touch  the  rock,  and  let  the  springs  of  sanctified 
affection  gush  out,  then,  just  as  soon  as  they  have 
found  their  channel,  their  life  will  be  like  the  run- 
ning of  a  brook  out  of  the  moimtains  and  through 
its  channel,  down  to  its  destination,  unchecked  and 
undisturbed.  They  think  that  if  they  are  once  con- 
verted, they  are  converted  for  all  time.  It  used  to 
be  taught  that,  once  a  deacon,  always  a  deacon  ; 
once  an  elder,  always  an  elder  ;  once  a  minister, 
always  a  minister  ;  and,  according  to  this  general 
scheme,  once  converted,  always  converted.  And  so 
men  feel  that  when  God  takes  hold  of  a  man's  heart, 
when  the  man  is  regenerated,  when  by  the  power 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  he  is  translated  from  the  kingdom 
of  Satan  and  darkness  into  the  kingdom  of  light 
and  of  God's  dear  Son,  it  is  a  work  that  is  com- 
pleted.    1  say  it  is  not  a  completed  work. 

Here  is  a  man  who  has  been  lying  around,  a 
lazy  vagabond,  sucking  his  substance  from  those  to 
whom  he  is  related,  and  he  is  taken  to  the  great 
West,  put  upon  a  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  ground, 
and  told  to  work  out  his  own  living,  lie  has  his 
ground  ;  he  owns  it ;  he  is  no  longer  one  of  the 
lazzaroni ;  and  he  goes  to  work  on  his  farm.  It  is 
not  converted  yet.  It  has  on  it  thorns  and  briers 
and  weeds,  and  it  brings  him  in  nothing,  at  first ; 
but  he  goes  to  work,  and  by  his  industry  and  appli- 
cation begins  to  develop  its  resources,  lie  is  an 
honest  yeoman,  he  is  the  owner  of  property,  and  he 
has  been  converted  from  a  street-beggar  into  a  man 
of  means  and  respectability  ;  but  his  own  conversion 
is  not  complete,  any  more  than  the  conversion  of 
his  farm  is  complete,  which  he  has  begim  to  culti- 
vate, but  which  needs  much  tilling  to  bring  it  to  a 
state  of  perfection.  When  a  man  is  converted,  he 
has  a  new  start — that  is  all.  The  work  of  his  con- 
version is  not  carried  through. 

Now,  no  man  was  ever  taken  from  darkness  to 
light  so  that  he  saw  clear  through  to  the  kingdom 
of  glory  at  one  glance.  When  a  man  is  taken  out 
of  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  the  bonds  of  iniquity, 
the  angel  comes  to  him  as  he  did  to  Peter,  knocks 
off  his  chains,  opens  the  door,  and  says,  "  Rise  up 
and  go  out."  And  when  he  has  risen  up  and  gone 
out,  he  has  to  find  his  own  way  to  his  friends,  and 
has  to  get  his  living  as  best  he  can. 

In  regard  to  religious  things,  men  are  under 
precisely  the  same  necessity  of  drill  and  education, 
and  of  the  application  of  means  to  ends,  that  they 
are  in  any  other  sphere  of  life.  If  a  man,  therefore, 
exi)ects  that  there  is  any  labour-saving  conversion, 
he  is  greatly  mistaken.  — deecker. 

XI.    ITS  RESULTS* 

(1469.)  There  are  two  classes  of  circumstances 
by  which  we  are  all  surrounded.  Teniporal  cir- 
cumstances comprise  the  outward  accidents  of 
man's  present  life  ;  spiritual  circumstances  consist 
of  the  relations  in  which  he  stands  to  eternity  and 
God.  The  temporal  surroundings  are  but  as  the 
little  garden,  with  its  gates  and  rails,  around  a 
shepherd's  cottage,  while  the  spiritual  are  as  the 
everlasting  mountains,  that  gird  the  horizon  and 
touch  the  heavens — or  as  the  grand  march  of  the 
seasons,  nov\'  bathing  the  windows  with  warm  sun- 
light, now  pelting  the  roof  with  rain  or  snow. 
Changes    take   place   in  the    outwardly   temporal 


CONVERSIOA\ 


(    aeo  7 


CONVICTION. 


It  is  just  like  altering  the  tiny  garden  ;  the    piritual 

landscape  all  around  is  the  same — the  same  dark 
hills,  and  tlie  same  cloudy  heavens.  Men  rise 
from  poverty  to  wealth,  from  obscurity  to  honour, 
but  remain  condemned  by  God's  law,  and  subject 
to  His  righteous  ilispleasure. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  outwardly  temporal 
remains  as  it  was.  The  dimensions  of  the  seed- 
plot  by  the  cottage  door  continue  unchanged,  but 
summer  has  followed  winter,  and  the  snows  on  the 
mounlain  have  melted,  and  all  nature  has  become 
another  self,  are  seen  in  the  goklen  and  purple 
light  of  autumn's  morning  or  eventide.  And  so  a 
man  may  remain  poor  as  he  ever  was — as  neglected 
as  he  ever  was  ;  but  God  is  no  longer  angry  with 
him.  His  anger  is  turned  away,  and  the  whole 
universe  to  him  has  become  changed— life's  pros- 
pects, and  especially  eternity's,  are  completely  dif- 
ferent. — i^toitghton. 

XII.    WHY  CONVERSIONS  ARE  SO  RARE, 

(1470.)  There  are  many  in  the  community  who 
stand  quite  disconnected  from  any  true  religious 
work,  or  any  useful  occupation  of  beneficence  or 
ef  mercy,  and  are  perpetually  finding  fault  with 
churches,  and  with  ministers,  and  with  all  the 
varied  institutions  which  have  sprung  up  under  the 
gospel  of  Christ.  And  they  would  fain  make  us 
believe  that  the  reason  why  they  are  not  better,  is 
that  these  things  are  so  poor.  But,  after  all,  the 
reason  why  men  are  not  truly  spiritual  and  Chris- 
tian, is  not  the  incompetence  of  external  institu- 
tions ;  it  is  not  the  poorness  of  preaching  ;  it  is  not 
the  imjierfections  of  the  Church  ;  it  is  not  the  un- 
adaptalions  in  the  external  institutions  of  the 
religious  world.  It  is  that  men  have  at  heart  an 
indisjiosition  to  conform  to  tliat  by  which  they 
might  go  out  of  the  animal  and  lower  life,  into  the 
spiritual  life.  The  trouble  is  in  the  men  themselves, 
and  not  in  the  institutions  that  surround  them. 
They  are  like  sick  children.  Whatever  the  nurse 
may  bring,  whether  it  be  of  food,  or  of  drink,  or 
of  some  object  of  amusement,  the  child  pushes  it 
pettishly  away.  Nothing  suits  the  child.  It  is 
not  because  the  picture  is  not  beautiful  ;  it  is  not 
because  the  drink  is  not  cooling  and  palatable  ;  it  is 
rot  because  tlie  food  is  not  good  :  it  is  because  the 
irritable  nerve  is  such  that  nothing  seems  good,  no 
matter  how  good  it  may  be,  and  nothing  seems 
desirable,  no  matter  how  attractive  it  may  be. 
And  there  are  hundreds  of  men  in  every  community 
who  refuse  to  bow  down  the  pride  of  their  nature, 
and  who  refuse  to  accept  the  service  of  our  Lord 
]esus  Christ,  because  of  the  heart  that  they  carry  in 
tliem,  although  the  reasons  which  they  allege  are 
reasons  of  exterior  religion.  — Beechcr. 

XIII.    HISTORY  OF  A  CONVERSION. 

(1471.)  While  spending  a  week  lately  io  the 
society  of  a  great  number  of  faithful  pastors  from 
the  Canton  of  Vaud,  one  of  them,  at  a  public 
meeting,  related  to  us  the  recent  conversion  of  a 
lady  in  his  parish.  She  was  one  of  those  who 
lived  only  fcr  this  world  ;  the  thoughts  of  her  sins 
had  never  caused  her  uneasiness  ;  she  was  careful 
and  troubled  about  many  things,  but  neglected  the 
one  thing  needful.  One  night,  while  alone  in  her 
room,  she  saw  the  lamp  which  lighted  it  suddenly 
go  out.  Although  she  was  alone,  she  said  aloud, 
(thinking  01  ly  of  the  accident  which  left  her  in  t'ne 


dark),  "  There  is  no  oil  in  the  lamp  !  "  The  words 
thus  spoken,  echoed  in  the  room  and  sounded  in 
her  ears,  but  with  a  new  sense.  She  recalled 
the  parable  of  the  five  foolish  virgins  who  had 
no  oil,  and  whose  lamps  had  gone  out  at  the 
coming  of  the  bridegroom  ;  and  from  that  moment, 
day  and  night,  that  word  of  God  remained  in  her 
soul,  as  an  arrow  remains  in  the  side  of  a  stag  who 
flies  away  from  the  hunters.  It  recurred  to  her 
constantly :  "  No,  I  have  no  oil  in  my  lamp  ! 
My  God  !  what  will  become  of  me  ?  I  have  not 
Thy  grace  in  my  heart ! "  She  was  filled  with 
fear ;  then  she  began  to  pray,  and  continued  in 
prayer  until  God  answered  her  favourably,  and  gave 
her  His  peace. 


CONVICTION. 

1.  Its  nature. 

(1472.)    Conviction    of  sin    denotes    somet1iJ«\g 

beyond  the  common  views  of  ths  mind  conc^Kuir-g 
its  sins;  and  is  always  a  serious,  solemn,  heartfelt 
sense  of  their  reality,  greatness,  guilt,  and  danger. 
There  is  a  total  dilfL-rence  between  merely  seeing  or 
understanding  a  subject,  and  feeling  it.  A  man 
may  contemplate,  as  a  mere  object  of  speculation 
and  intellect,  the  downward  progress  of  his  own 
affairs  towards  bankruptcy  and  ruin,  and  have 
clear  views  of  its  nature  and  consequences,  and  still 
regard  it  as  an  object  of  mere  speculation.  Should 
he  afterwards  become  a  bankrupt,  and  thus  be 
actually  ruined,  he  will  experience  a  state  of  mind 
entirely  new,  and  altogether  unlike  anything  which 
he  experienced  before.  He  now  feels  the  subject  ; 
before  he  only  thought  on  it  with  cool  contempla- 
tion, and  however  clear  his  views  were,  they  had 
no  effect  on  his  heart.  His  former  views  never 
moved  him  to  due  efforts  for  the  prevention  of  his 
ruin  ;  those  which  he  now  possesses  would  have 
engaged  him,  had  they  existed  at  the  proper  time 
for  this  purpose,  in  the  most  vigorous  exertions. 
Just  such  is  the  difference  between  the  common 
views  of  sin,  and  those  which  are  experienced  under 
religious  conviction.  What  before  was  only  seen, 
is  now  realised  and  felt.  — Salter. 

2.  The  commencement  of  the  Divine  life  In  the 
soul. 

(1473.)  If  a  man  be  quite  out  of  his  way,  what 
must  be  the  first  means  to  bring  him  in  again  ? 
Why,  a  despair  of  ever  coming  to  his  journey  s  end 
in  the  way  that  he  is  in.  If  his  home  be  eastward, 
and  he  be  going  westward,  as  long  as  he  hopes  he 
is  in  the  right,  he  will  go  on  ;  and  as  long  as  he  so 
goes  on  hoping,  he  goes  further  amiss  :  therefore, 
when  he  meets  with  somebody  that  assures  him 
that  he  is  clean  out  of  his  way,  and  brings  him  to 
despair  of  coming  home,  except  he  turn  back 
again  ;  then  he  will  return,  and  then  he  may  hope 
and  spare  not.  W'hy,  sinner,  just  so  is  it  with  thy 
soul:  thou  art  born  out  of  the  way  to  heaven  ;  and 
in  that  way  thou  hast  proceeded  many  a  year  ;  yet 
thou  goest  on  quietly,  and  hopest  to  be  saved, 
because  thou  art  not  so  bad  as  many  others.  Why, 
I  tell  thee,  except  thou  be  brought  to  throw  away 
those  hopes,  and  see  that  thou  hast  all  this  while 
been  quite  out  of  the  way  to  heaven,  thou  wilt  never 
return  and  be  saved  !  Who  will  turn  out  of  hif 
way  while  he  hopes  he  is  right  ? 

— BaxtfTy  1615-1691. 


CONVICTION. 


(    261     ) 


CONVICTION. 


(1474.)  Conviction  is  very  necessary,  and  an 
excellent  |ire|)aiative  to  conversion  ;  as  plougiiing 
fits  the  grouinl  for  sowing,  so  does  this  fit  the  heart 
for  grace :  and  therefore  the  first  work  of  the  Spirit 
is  to  "  reprove  the  world  of  sin." 

—  I'homas  Hall,  1659. 

t.  Its  desi^. 

(1475.)  As  in  a  dangerous  storm,  the  mariner 
will  cast  silk  and  satin  overboard,  and  the  most 
valuable  things,  rather  than  perish  ;  even  so  God 
raises  a  storm  of  conviction  in  the  man's  conscience, 
that  threatens  everlasting  shipwreck,  that  he  may 
cast  away  his  confidence  and  legal  righteousness  : 
that  what  things  were  gain  to  him,  these  he  may 
count  loss  for  Christ.  — Ers/dne,  1685-1752. 

(1476.)  Sir  James  Thornliill  was  the  person  who 
painted  the  inside  of  the  cupola  of  St.  Paul's, 
London.  After  having  finished  one  of  the  com- 
partments, he  stejiped  back  gradually  to  see  how  it 
would  look  at  a  distance.  He  receded  so  far  (still 
keeping  his  eye  intently  fixed  on  tiie  painting),  that 
he  was  got  almost  to  the  very  edge  of  the  scatfolding 
without  perceiving  it  :  had  he  conlinueil  to  retreat, 
half  a  minute  more  would  have  completed  his 
destruction,  and  he  must  have  fallen  to  the  pave- 
ment underneath.  A  person  present,  who  saw  the 
danger  the  great  artist  was  in.  had  the  hajjpy  presence 
of  mind  to  suddenly  snatch  up  one  of  the  brushes,  and 
spoil  his  painting  by  rubbing  it  over.  Sir  James, 
transported  with  rage,  sprang  forward  to  save  the 
remainder  of  the  piece.  But  his  rage  was  soon 
turned  into  thanks,  when  the  person  told  him, 
*'  Sir,  by  spoiling  the  painting  I  have  saved  the  life 
of  the  painter.  Vou  had  advanced  to  the  extremity 
of  the  scaffold  without  knowing  it.  Had  I  called 
out  to  you  to  apprise  you  of  your  danger,  you  would 
naturally  have  turned  to  look  behind  you,  and  the 
surprise  of  finding  yourself  in  such  a  dreadful  situa- 
tion would  have  made  you  fall  indeed.  I  had, 
therefore,  no  other  method  of  retrieving  you  but 
by  acting  as  I  did."  Similar,  if  I  may  so  speak,  is 
the  method  of  God's  dealing  with  His  people.  We 
ate  all  naturally  fond  of  our  own  legal  peiformances. 
We  admire  them  to  our  ruin,  unless  the  Holy  Spirit 
retrieve  us  from  our  folly.  This  He  tloes  by  mair- 
ing,  as  it  were,  our  best  works  ;  by  showing  us 
their  insufficiency  to  justify  us  before  God.  When 
we  are  truly  taught  of  Him,  we  thank  Him  for  His 
grace,  instead  of  being  angry  at  having  our  idols 
defaced.  The  only  way"  by  which  we  are  saved 
from  everlasiing  destruction,  is  by  being  matle  to 
see  that  "by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  fiesh  shall 
be  j  ustified. "  — i^alter. 

4.  How  It  Is  effected, 

(1477.)  As  in  the  night,  by  reason  of  the  darkness, 
we  cannot  (bscern  the  spots  we  have  on  our  faces,  but 
when  the  light  beginneih  to  appear,  and  we  take  a 
glass  to  ljeln)ld  ourselves  tlierein,  llien  they  are  dis- 
covered :  e\en  so,  likewise,  duiing  the  lime  that 
we  are  covered  with  the  darkness  of  ignorance,  the 
vices  that  dwell  in  us  are  hidden  there  ;  and  often- 
times we  think,  being  leprous  and  defornieil,  that 
we  are  beautiful  ami  perlcct,  but  our  eyes  being 
open  and  illuminated  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and 
taking  the  glass  (jf  the  law,  therein  to  behold  the 
state  of  our  nature  and  our  life,  then  we  begin  to 
know  the  grievovs  imperfections  that  are  in  us,  and 
we  at  once  lost   the  opinion  which  we  had  con- 


ceived of  our  own  righteousness,  and  perceive  what 
danger  we  were  in  before. 

— Cawdray,  1598- 1664. 

(1478.)  Let  me  illustrate  my  way  of  convicting 
piersons  of  sin.  How  would  I  attempt  to  convict  a 
person  of  ignorance  ?  If  a  little  sprig  of  a  fellow 
comes  where  1  am,  thinking  that  he  knows  eveiy- 
thing,  and  that  he  is  going  to  teach  me  everything, 
it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  say  to  him,  "You  are 
a  popinjay,  sir  ;  you  are  a  conceited  tool  ! "  One 
of  the  best  ways  to  deal  with  him  is  to  assume  that 
he  knows  everything.  I  introduce  one  subject,  and 
assume  that  he  is  familiar  with  it,  and  question  him 
upon  it  till  he  begins  to  say  to  himself,  "  I  do  not 
know  quite  as  much  as  I  thought  I  did."  I  at 
once  pass  from  that  to  another  subject,  and  assume 
that  he  knows  something  on  that,  and  push  him 
along  till  he  begins  to  boggle,  and  feel  that  he  is 
not  half  so  wise  as  he  thought  he  was.  And  by  the 
lime  I  have  swampeil  him  on  half-a-dozen  subjects, 
he  will  be  quite  crestfallen,  and  have  some  idea  of 
his  ignorance. 

And  if  a  man  comes  to  me  and  says,  "  I  cannot 
see  that  I  am  a  sinner,"  1  say,  "Then  you  do 
not  need  any  change  nor  repentance.  But  you 
ought  to  act  like  a  Christian,  if  you  cannot  see  that 
you  are  a  sinner.  Do  you  pray?"  "Well,  1 — 
yes."  "Do  you  enjoy  prayer?"  "I  cannot  say 
that  I  do."  "But  why  not?"  "Well,  my 
thoughts  wander,  and  I  do  not  seem  to  be  speaking 
to  anybody,  and  nobody  seems  to  hear  me."  "  Ha  ! 
you  do  not  think  that  you  are  sinful  ;  but  the 
moment  you  attempt  to  speak  to  God  He  is  nothing 
to  you,  and  you  are  nothing  to  Him.  You  are  from 
Him  ;  and  your  breath  is  from  Him  ;  the  bounties 
that  every  day  shower  upon  you  are  from  Him  ; 
and  yet,  according  to  your  own  admission,  nothing 
is  so  foreign  to  your  nature  as  communion  with 
Him  ;  and  when  you  aiUlress  a  few  words  to  Him, 
your  thoughts  are  roving  from  one  end  of  the 
earth  to  the  other!"  "And  how  is  it,"  1  say, 
"in  respect  to  Christ,  His  sacrifice.  His  resurrec- 
tion, and  I  lis  ascension?  What  are  your  feelings 
'owards  Him?"  "Well,  I  want  to  love  the 
Saviour."  "Do  you  love  the  Saviour?"  "  I  can- 
not say  that  I  do."  "  Vou  profess  to  have  no 
sense  of  sinfulness,  and  yet  you  admit  that  you  have 
no  love  toward  the  .Saviour  who  died  for  you,  and 
who,  having  ascended  to  heaven,  there  intercedes 
in  your  behalf!"  But  I  say  still  further,  "Take 
the  idea  of  a  Christian  life  as  the  rule  of  your  con- 
duct, and  attempt  to  govern  yourself  by  the  law  of 
gentleness,  meekness,  and  love  for  one  day."  The 
moment  he  does  this  he  finds  himself  in  difficulty  ; 
and  at  the  end  of  the  day  he  comes  back  and  says, 
"Oh,  1  broke  it  here,  and  I  broke  it  there.  I  found 
myself  unequal  to  the  task."  I  do  not  care  which 
one  of  the  fundamental  precepts  of  Christ  a  man 
undertakes  to  follow,  he  needs  undertake  to  follow 
it  but  one  day  to  have  revealed  to  him  the  bairen- 
ness  of  his  spiritual  life  and  the  sinfulness  of  his 
nature.  — Beecher. 

6.  ShoQld  instantly  lead  to  action. 

(1479.)  The  sooner  we  turn  to  the  ways  of  God, 
the  better  we  speed.  How  so  ?  Partly  in  this, 
that  the  work  goes  on  the  more  kindly  as  being 
carried  forth  in  the  strength  of  the  present  influence 
and  impulsion  of  grace  ;  whereas,  if  the  heart  grow 
cold  ayain,  it  will  be  more  difficult.     A  blow  when 


CONVICTION. 


(     363     ) 


CONVIC'I  ION. 


the  iron  is  hot  does  more  than  ten  at  another  time 
when  it  grows  cold  again  :  so  when  thy  heart  grows 
cold,  thou  wilt  not  have  that  advantage  as  when 
thou  art  under  warm  conviction. 

— MaiUon,  1620-1667. 

(1480.)  Of  all  tilings  in  the  world,  do  not  wait 
to  see  if  your  convicliuiis  will  not  do  sonietiiing  of 
themselves.  When  the  dairyman  brings  in  his 
overflowing  pail  from  tiie  yartl,  and  pours  the  milk 
into  the  pans,  and  sets  them  on  their  various  shelves, 
there  is  nothing  belter  than  that  these  pans  should 
stand  still,  that  tiie  cream  may  rise ;  and  many 
people  seem  to  treat  tiieir  heaiis  as  though  they 
were  pans  of  milk,  which  should  stand  still  while 
the  cream  rises  on  them,  liut  notiiing  comes  from 
involuntary  life.  "  IVork  out,"'  says  God,  "your 
<nvn  salvation."  It  is  not  ])assivity,  but  activity, 
that  befits  the  nature  of  that  which  you  carry 
within  yourselves.  Therefore,  if  you  have  a  yearn- 
ing desire  for  something,  carry  it  forward  and 
ratify  it. 

Do  you  ask  what  you  shall  do?  One  of  the  first 
things  1  exhort  every  man  to  do  is  this  :  Look  and 
see  what  sin,  what  hindrance,  what  entanglement, 
what  yoke  or  bondage,  there  is  in  you.  Be^'in 
that  way,  but  do  not  feel  that  the  work  is  accom- 
plished when  you  have  done  that.  That  is  only  the 
preparation.  As,  when  a  person  that  is  working  in 
mortar  or  clay  is  summoned  to  go  and  see  a  friend, 
he  begins  by  throwing  olil  his  working-clothes  and 
washing  his  hands  as  a  preliminary  step  to  getting 
ready,  so  a  man  who  is  going  to  see  God  should 
begin  to  prepare  himself  by  breaking  otT  his  outward 
sin.  If  it  is  love  of  liquor,  if  it  is  any  dishonest 
trait,  if  it  is  any  cherished  hatred,  if  it  is  any 
bitter  animosity,  if  it  is  any  illicit  attachment,  if  it 
is  an  entanglement  of  any  kind,  the  first  step  for 
you  is  to  cut  loose  from  it.  If  it  requires  you  to 
break  with  companions  that  are  leading  you  on  in 
sin,  break  with  them  at  once.  Nothing  will  test  a 
man's  earnestness  quicker  than  this.  If  you  do 
that,  you  are  in  a  slate  in  which,  even  though  you 
are  not  a  Christian,  there  is  much  hope  for  you. 

— Beecher. 

(1481.)  My  frienas,  consideration  is  a  good 
thing  ;  but  if  I  were  in  a  railway  car,  and  had  gone 
over  a  cliff,  and  were  roiling  down,  and  down,  and 
down,  and  the  stove  had  begun  to  pour  its  coals 
out,  and  the  flames  were  beginning  to  take  holtl  of 
everything  that  was  combubtible,  and  I  saw  that 
there  was  a  chance  to  get  out,  I  should  lose  no 
time  in  attem|Hing  to  escape  ;  and  if  a  man  should 
pull  me  by  the  skirt  and  say,  "Consider,  my 
friend,  consider,"  1  would  say,  "  Let  me  gel  out 
first,  and  then  I  will  consider."  Suppose,  finding 
your  dwelling  in  flames,  and  yourself  in  imminent 
danger  of  being  consumed  or  sufibcated,  you  should 
make  haste  to  escape,  and  a  man  should  say  to 
you,  "It  is  all  right  to  be  concerned  about  your- 
self, but  consider."  Consider?  What!  when  a 
man  stands  under  an  avalanche,  and  hears  the 
crash  coming  down,  and  runs  to  get  out  of  its  way, 
and  some  one  says  to  him,  "  Stop,  consider,"  which 
is  the  fool  under  the  circumstances?  When  a  man 
sees  that  there  is  danger  before  him,  and  that 
he  is  moving  toward  it,  there  is  an  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  which  is  aroused,  and  which  should 
•»ot  be  disregarded.  And  there  is  a  self-preserving 
instinct  given  to  the  spiri"  as  much  as  to  the  body. 


And  such  a  time  is  a  time,  not  for  consideration, 
but  for  action.  When  your  soul  is  in  danger,  flee. 
Flee  for  your  life.  Do  not  wait,  nor  even  look 
back.  The  very  object  of  haste  is  to  rescue  men 
before  the  fascination  of  evil,  which  has  been  broken, 
shall  return. 

There  are  bays  along  rocky  coasts.  WMiere  pro- 
montories stretch  out,  a  bay  runs  in.  When  the 
tide  is  out,  it  is  charming  to  walk  about  on  the 
sand.  But  when  the  tide  comes  in  there  is  danger, 
unless  one  is  on  the  alert.  For  it  comes  stealing  in 
almost  imperceptibly,  and  often  shuts  otil'  the  pro- 
montories long  before  it  runs  up  into  the  bay. 
And  if  a  man  is  amusing  himself  there  with  no 
heed  and  no  outlook,  the  insidious  tide,  which 
comes  in  sweet  as  the  blossoming  of  a  flower,  but 
with  all  the  power  of  the  ocean  behind  it,  will  over- 
take him.  If  he  does  not  flee  before  the  promon- 
tories are  shut  off,  he  will  never  flee.  It  is  now  or 
net'er  wi  h  him.  There  is  many  and  many  a  man 
hemmed  in  between  two  promontories  which  invite 
the  tide  and  the  ocean.  Now  is  your  time  to 
escape.  If  you  wait  till  the  tide  comes  in,  you  will 
be  drowned.  If  there  are  any  here  in  whom  the 
tide  of  appetite,  or  the  tide  of  jiassion,  or  the  tide 
of  infatuation  for  gambling,  or  the  tide  of  corrup- 
tion, is  out,  now  is  the  time  for  you  to  flee.  Do 
not  wait  for  it  to  come  back  again.  Be  precipitate, 
and  save  your  souls.  — Beecher. 

(1482.)  A  man  who  feels  that  lie  is  sinful  in  such 
a  sense  that  he  needs  God's  forgiving  mercy,  and 
that  sinfulness  in  him  is  of  such  a  nature  that  he 
needs  God's  help  to  overcome  it,  has  a  sense  of  sin 
that  is  deep  enough  for  practical  exigencies.  How 
strongly  must  he  leel  who  has  this  sense  of  his  sin, 
and  of  his  need  of  the  influence  of  the  Divine 
nature  in  his  character  and  conduct?  In  other 
words,  how  intensive  must  be  that  conviction  ?  It 
must  be  intense  enough  to  lead  him  to  make  exer- 
tion, and  the  needed  exertion,  to  escape  from  the 
evil,  and  go  toward  the  good.  How  heavy  must 
the  wind  blow  to  take  a  man  out  of  the  harbour  of 
New  York?  Must  it  blow  twenty  knots  an  hour? 
Well,  that  will  take  iiim  out  easily.  Fifteen  knots? 
Yes,  that  will  take  him  out.  Ten  knots?  That 
will  take  him  out  ton.  Five  knots?  V'es,  he  will 
get  out  with  that.  But  suppose  the  wind  blows  but 
one  knot  an  hour  ?  Well,  it  is  belter  to  go  out 
with  one  knot  an  hour  than  not  to  go  out  at  all. 

How  much  must  a  man  feel  the  hatefulness  and 
malignity  of  sin?  How  much  must  he  feel  the 
danger  of  sin  ?  What  stress  of  conviction  must  a  man 
have  in  order  that  that  stress  may  carry  him  awa/ 
from  lethargy,  and  indifference,  and  neglect,  and  low 
desires?  isot  so  much  as  many  sup|)ose.  If  it 
does  carry  him  away  from  these  things,  it  is  suff.- 
cient.  It  would  be  easier  if  the  outflow  were 
strong.  Nevertheless,  the  lowest  measure  of  re- 
ligious experien:e  is  enough,  if  a  man  avail  ."limself 
of  it,  and  flee  from  selfishness  and  pride,  and  take 
the  help  of  God  which  is  proffered  to  him. 

— Beecker, 

6.  Should  lead  us  to  Christ. 

(1483.)  Suppose  one  of  your  children  has  offended 
you,  and  you  say  to  him,  "Come,  my  dear,  I  freely 
forgive  you  ;  come  and  give  me  a  kiss,  and  it  is  all 
over."  He  shakes  his  head,  antl  says,  "  No,  failier, 
I  cannot  kiss  you  ; "  and  he  runs  away  upstairs  and 
shuts  himself  up.     You  knock  at  the  door,  and  say. 


CONVICTION. 


(    363    ) 


CONVICTION. 


''  Come,  my  c^ilr^,  come  and  kiss  me,  and  .t  is  all 
forgiven."  ISat  he  shakes  his  head  and  says,  "  No, 
never."  He  shuts  himself  up  tliere  all  alone,  and 
he  thinks  he  is  doing  more  to  put  away  your  anger 
by  so  doing  than  l)y  obeying  your  conimnnd.  Vou 
say  to  him  solemnly,  "iSly  child,  I  will  cliasten  you 
again  for  disobedience  if  you  do  not  come  and  accept 
the  forgiveness  which  I  ofter  to  you  if  you  will  but 
kiss  me."  The  child  sullenly  says,  "No,  father,  I 
will  do  something  else  that  is  more  humbling;" 
and  then  you  fee  in  your  soul  that  that  is  an  un- 
humbled  child  or  else  he  would  at  once  do  what  his 
father  told  him,  without  thinking  whether  it  would 
be  a  humiliating  thing  or  not.  It  would  be  a 
humbling  thing  because  his  father  told  him  to  do  it, 
and  if  he  were  a  right-minded  child  he  would  do  it 
from  a  spirit  of  obedience.  Now,  you  may  think  it 
very  humble  on  your  part  to  want  to  feel  a  great 
deal  of  conviction,  and  to  shed  a  great  many  tears, 
and  to  pray  a  great  many  prayers,  but  the  most 
lowly  thing  you  can  do  is  to  perform  what  the 
Master  tells  you.  "Trust  me,"  saith  He  ;  "do  not 
go  over  there  to  weep  ;  come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest."  — Spur^eon. 

(1484.)  I  will  tell  you  a  little  anecdote  which  I 
have  olten  told  before  ;  it  brings  to  your  mind  more 
clearly  than  any  other  means  your  right  to  believe 
in  Christ.  I  am  speaking  to  those  who  say,  "I 
have  no  right  to  trust  Christ."  Ijut  if  Christ  com- 
mands you  to  do  it,  and  if,  moreover,  He  tells  you, 
"you  are  condemneil  already  because  you  do  not 
believe."  You  certainly  have  a  right  to  believe. 
Sitting  one  day  in  court  with  a  judge  interesting 
myself  with  some  trials  that  were  going  on,  there 
was  wanted  a  witness.  I  am  not  clear  about  his 
name,  but  I  think  it  was  Brown.  So  it  was  said 
from  the  bench  that  Brown  was  wanted  next.  The 
usher  down  in  the  court  cried  out,  "Brown!" 
Some  one  near  ^he  door  cried,  "Brown  !"  and  I 
could  hear  them  calling  out  in  the  street  two  or 
three  times,  "Brown!  Brown!  Brown!"  The 
court  was  very  crowded.  By-and-by  there  came  in 
at  the  court  door,  with  a  great  deal  of  difficulty, 
a  little,  ugly,  mean-looking  creature.  He  came 
pushing  and  elbowing  his  way.  There  was  a  fine, 
tall  gentleman  standing  in  the  court,  looking  on. 
He  did  not  like  to  be  pushed  about,  and  he  said  in 
a  very  peremptory  manner,  "Who  are  you?" 
"Brown,"  said  the  man,  "  I  am  Brown."  "  Well, 
but,"  said  the  other,  '•  who  is  Brown  ?  "  "  Nobody," 
said  he,  "only  I  was  told  to  come."  It  was 
wonderful  how  everybody  matle  way  for  Brown, 
because  he  was  told  to  come.  They  just  cleared  a 
lane  for  him,  and  I  do  not  suppose  for  my  lord  and 
duke  they  would  have  matle  room,  they  were  so 
tigh'.y  packed  ;  but  Brown  must  come  in  anyhow, 
because  he  was  wanted.  It  did  not  matter  how 
poor  he  looked,  how  ragged,  how  greasy,  how  dirty. 
Brown  was  wanted  and  he  had  a  right  to  come.  So 
now,  God  commands  you  to  trust  Christ.  But  you 
say,  "There  isa  big  sin  staniling  up."  And  He  says, 
"Who  are  you?"  You  say,  "A  poor  sinner." 
"  And  what  is  a  poor  sinner  ?"  says  He.  "  Nothing 
Kt  all,"  you  say  ;  "but  Jesus  Christ  told  me  to 
trust  in  Him.  If  He  is  wrong  I  leave  the  blame 
with  Him,  1  wdl  not  keep  back  from  Him." 

— Spurgeon. 

7.  Saving'  cop'^ctlon  Is  thorougli. 

(1485.)  As  knives  and  lancets  must  first  be  used 


to  open  that  wound  which  is  full  of  corruption,  even 
to  the  bottom,  and  then  sharp  and  bitter  salve  to 
draw  out  the  corruption  and  to  eat  out  the  dead 
flesh  thereof,  before  there  come  any  healing  plaster 
near  it,  the  nature  whereof  is  to  close  up  and  skin 
the  upper  part  of  the  wound,  which,  if  any  corrup- 
tion remain,  afterwards  breeds  much  inci)n\enience 
and  makes  the  wound  far  more  dangerous  :  even  so 
it  farelh  with  all  those  who  are  wounded  with  the 
venomous  dart  of  self-love,  which  wound,  being 
choked  with  the  corruption  and  dead  flesh  of 
covetousness  and  pride,  they  yet  will  use  no  other 
medicine  for  the  curing  thereof  than  that  pleasant 
healing  salve  of  the  Gospel,  which,  if  they  knew  in 
truth  how  little  the  same  did  profit  them  before  such 
time  as  the  sharp  lancing  knife  of  God's  law  had 
opened  the  wound,  and  the  bitter  salves  of  His 
judgments  and  sharp  ihrealenings  had  eaten  out  the 
rottenness  thereof,  they  would  go  another  way  to 
work,  and  use  a  more  suitable  course  for  the  obtain- 
ing of  health,  although  it  be  very  tedious  and  sharp 
at  the  first.  — Cawuray,  159S-1664. 

(i486.)  The  soul  in  this  great  work  is  convinced 
and  sensible,  as  of  the  evil  of  sin,  so  of  its  own 
misery  by  reason  of  sin.  They  who  before  read  the 
threats  of  God's  law,  as  men  do  the  whole  stoiies 
of  foreign  wars,  or  as  they  behold  the  wounds  and 
the  blood  in  a  picture,  or  piece  of  arras,  which 
never  makes  them  smart  or  fear:  now  they  find  it 
is  their  own  story,  and  they  perceive  they  read  their 
own  doom,  as  if  they  found  their  names  written  in 
the  curse,  or  heard  the  law  say,  as  Nathan,  "Thou 
art  the  man."  The  wrath  of  God  seemed  to  him 
but  as  a  storm  to  a  man  in  a  dry  house,  or  as  the 
pains  of  the  sick  to  the  healthful  stander-by,  or  as 
the  torments  of  hell  to  a  child  that  sees  the  story  of 
Dives  and  Lazarus  upon  the  wall  ;  but  now  he  finds 
the  disease  is  his  own,  and  feels  the  pain  in  his  own 
bowels,  and  the  smart  of  the  wouiuls  in  his  own 
soul.  In  a  word,  he  finds  himself  a  condemned 
man,  and  that  he  is  dead  and  damned  in  puint  of 
law,  and  that  nothing  was  wanting  but  mere  execu- 
tion to  make  him  most  absolutely  and  irrecoverably 
miserable.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1487.)  This  conviction  is  not  by  mere  argumen* 
tation,  as  a  man  is  convinced  of  the  verity  of  some 
inconcerning  consequence  by  dispute  ;  but  also  by 
the  sense  of  our  desperate  misery,  as  a  man  in 
famine  of  the  necessity  of  food  ;  or  a  man  that  had 
read  or  heard  his  sentence  of  condemnation,  is  con- 
vinced of  the  absolute  necessity  of  pardon  ;  or  as  a 
man  that  lies  in  prison  for  debt,  is  convinceil  of  the 
necessity  of  a  surety  to  discharge  it.  Now  the 
sinner  finds  himself  in  another  case  than  ever  he 
was  aware  of;  he  feels  an  insupportable  burden 
upon  him,  and  sees  there  is  none  but  Christ  can 
take  it  off.  I  le  perceives  that  he  is  under  the  wrath 
of  God,  and  that  the  laws  j^roclaim  him  a  rebel  and 
an  outlaw,  and  none  but  Ciirist  alone  can  make  his 
peace  :  he  is  a  man  pursued  by  a  lion,  that  must 
perish,  if  he  find  not  present  sanctuary.  He  feels 
the  curse  1  ith  lie  upon  him,  and  upon  all  he 
hath  for  his  sake,  and  Christ  alone  can  make  hira 
blessed  :  he  is  now  brought  to  this  dilemma,  either 
he  must  have  Christ  to  justify  him,  or  be  eternally 
condemned  ;  he  must  have  Christ  to  save  him,  or 
burn  in  hell  for  ever  ;  he  must  have  Christ  to  'taring 
him  again  to  Goil,  or  be  shut  out  of  His  presence 
everlastingly ;  and  now  no  wonder  if  he  cry  as  the 


CONVICTION. 


(    a6*    ) 


CREA  TIGN. 


martvr  Lambert,  "  None  but  Christ  !  none  but 
l^hnst  !  "  It  is  iiot  gold,  but  bread,  that  will  satisfy 
the  hungry ;  nor  anything  but  pardon  that  will 
comforl  the  condemned.       — BaxUr,  1615-1691. 

8.  Abortive  convictions. 

(148S.)  What  makes  convictions  prove  abortive? 
Wherein  is  the  defect  ? 

1.  They  are  not  deep  enough  :  a  sinner  never 
saw  himself  lost  without  Christ ;  the  seed  that 
wanteth  depth  of  earth  withered.  These  convic- 
tions are  like  blossoms  blown  off  before  they  come 
to  maturity. 

2.  These  convictions  are  involuntar)'  ;  the  sinner 
doth  what  he  can  to  stifle  these  convictions  ;  he 
drowns  them  in  wine  and  mirth  ;  he  labours  to  get 
rid  of  them  :  as  tlie  deer  when  it  is  shot,  runs  and 
shakes  out  the  arrow  ;  so  doth  he  the  arrow  of  con- 
viction :  or  as  the  prisoner  that  files  off  his  fetters, 
and  breaks  loose  ;  so  a  man  breaks  loose  from  his 
convictions.  11  is  corruptions  are  stronger  than  his 
convictions. 

3.  Men  have  some  kind  of  humiliation,  and  have 
shed  tears  for  their  sins,  therefore  now  they  hope 
the  kingdom  of  grace  is  come  into  their  hearts. 
But  this  is  no  infallible  sign  of  grace  ;  Saul  wept, 
Ahab  humbled  himself.  — IVatson,  1696. 

9.  The  duty  of  those  who  are  under  conviction. 

(1489.)  When  a  man  is  under  conviction  of  sin, 
and  is  on  the  point  of  deciding  for  Christ,  it  is  a 
perilous  thing  for  him  to  throw  himself  where 
pleasures  may  entice,  where  indulgences  may 
solicit,  where  anything  may  come  in  to  unsettle 
ids  purpose.  It  takes  very  little  to  carry  down  the 
scale  when  it  stands  at  equipoise.  Very  often  the 
least  thing  will  do  it. 

I  say  this  because  I  have  been  so  long  a 
time  dealing  with  men  that  I  know  what  their 
fee'ings  are,  and  I  know  that  such  warning  is  often 
needed  when  men  are  serious-minded  ;  when  they 
are  very  near  to  the  kingdom  of  God — as  near  as 
some  of  you  are  to-night— so  near  that  it  would  take 
the  merest  pressure  of  the  hand  to  bear  them  over 
the  line,  and  within  the  sacred  precinct.  Men 
ridicule  us  sometimes,  who  do  not  well  consider 
what  they  say,  and  who  do  not  understand  the 
nature  of  moral  qualities,  when  we  say  to  a  man, 
'*  Withhold  yourself  even  from  lawful  pleasures;  do 
not  go  into  company  which  at  other  times  you  might 
properly  keep  ;  (Jod's  Spirit  strives  with  you  ;  your 
heart  is  brought  into  such  a  temper,  and  under  such 
influences,  that  that  which  would  be  perfectly  allow- 
able at  another  time,  is  not  wise  at  this  crisis." 
As,  when  a  person  is  sick,  diet  which  in  health  is 
perfectly  right  is  bad  for  him  ;  so  when  a  man  is 
coming  back  to  himself  and  to  his  Saviour,  there 
are  many  things  which  he  ought  not  to  do,  because 
in  such  critical  hours  and  moments  little  things  go 
so  far. 

When  guides  are  taking  men  along  Alpine 
stretches  in  the  forenoon,  when  the  sun  has  begun 
to  shine,  and  the  vast  avalanches  lie  above,  they 
will  not  let  them  speak,  and  say  to  them,  as  they 
begin  to  make  the  turn,  "  While  going  round  this 
ravine  on  the  narrow  path,  let  no  man  say  a  word." 
And  so  they  go  on  in  silence,  one  after  another. 
Why  ?  Because  so  exactly  balanced,  sometimes,  is 
the  avalanche,  that  the  echo,  and  the  vibration  of 
the  air  which  is  produced,  will  be  just  what  is 
necessary  to  break  the  last  icicle  that  holds  it,  and 


down  will  corr.e  the  avalanche.  At  other  points  in 
the  passage  they  may  shout  as  loud  as  they  jilease, 
and  it  will  do  no  harm  ;  but  there  are  critical  points 
where  the  guide  says,  "  Hush,  and  do  not  even 
whisper."  It  is  a  very  little  thing  ;  but  oh  I  does  it 
not  take  hold  of  tremendous  consequences? 

A  companion  that  is  good  for  hours  of  health 
may  be  a  bad  companion  for  hours  of  sickness.  A 
companion  that  is  good  for  ordinary  times  may,  at 
certain  critical  times  of  a  man's  moral  history,  be 
ruinous,  not  intending  it.  Thousands  of  men  have 
been  destroyed  in  this  world,  I  doubt  not,  who 
never  knew,  nor  suspected  even,  that  it  was  the 
smallest  circumstance  that  determined  their  de- 
struction. As  trains  are  destroyed  by  the  move- 
ment of  a  switch  no  more  than  the  tenth  part  of  an 
inch,  so  little  things  often  determine,  at  critical 
periods,  men's  fate  for  time  and  for  eternity. 

— Beecher, 

10.  Is  deepened  by  every  attempt  to  obey  the 
law  of  God. 

(1490.)  The  first  attempt  which  he  makes  to 
j^overn  himself  according  to  the  laws  of  God  will 
show  to  him  the  incredible  power  and  control  which 
pride  has  gained  in  him.  And  when  he  undertakes 
to  govern  that  pride,  he  will  have  a  sense  of  its  un- 
governableness  which  perhajis  he  never  had  before. 

There  is  a  five-year-old  colt  in  the  pasture.  I 
call  him  to  me.  I  shake  the  oats  in  the  measure. 
1  feed  him.  He  eats  out  of  my  hand.  And  I  say, 
"  Talk  to  me  about  this  colt's  being  fractious  !  See 
how  docile  he  is.''  I  lead  him  into  the  yard.  I 
put  the  harness  on  him.  I  undertake  to  drive  him. 
Oh,  how  docile  he  is  now  !  The  moment  he  feels 
the  harness  how  he  rears  and  plunges !  How 
fractious  he  is  !  He  is  unwilling  that  anybody  but 
himself  shall  have  the  control  of  him.  You  could 
not  bring  out  his  spirit  till  you  laid  the  harness  on 
him. 

A  man  thinks  himself  to  be  all  right.  Yes,  so 
waters  that  flow  almost  on  a  level,  singing  and 
murmuring  as  they  go,  suppose  they  are  all  right. 
But  lay  across  their  channel  an  obstruction  so  that 
they  cannot  move  just  as  they  wish.  How  they 
begin  to  p!nnge  over  that  obstruction,  with  hoarse 
plaints  !  If  you  let  man's  pride  and  selfishness  run 
as  they  want  to,  they  do  not  make  any  report.  So 
long  as  they  are  undisturbed  they  are  quiet  enough. 
But  lay  upon  them  the  law  of  God,  attempt  to  bring 
them  into  subjection  to  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  say  to  them,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord 
thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself,"  and  see  how  they  will  like  that.  Let  them 
undertake  to  put  that  rule  in  practice.  Let  pride 
subscribe  to  it  ;  let  vanity  subscribe  to  it  ;  let 
avarice  subscribe  to  it ;  let  passion  and  temper,  in 
all  their  vagaries,  subscribe  to  it.  Let  envy  and 
jealousy  come  up  and  submit  themselves  to  it. 
When  a  man  does  that,  he  will  find  that  he  has  a 
different  nature  to  deal  with.  If  you  do  it  yourself, 
you  will  find  how  hard  it  is  for  a  man  to  live  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  Ciod.  — Beecher. 


CREATION. 

1.  Is  at  once  a  proof  of  the  belngr*  &nd  a  revela- 
tion of  the  character,  of  God. 

(1491.)  If  there  were  beings  who  lived  in  the 
depths  of  the   earth,    in  dwellings   adorned    with 


CREA  TION. 


C    265    ) 


CREATION. 


statues  and  paintings,  and  everything  which  is  pos- 
sessed in  rich  abundance  by  those  whom  men 
esteem  fortunate  ;  and  if  these  beings  could  receive 
tidings  of  the  might  and  majesty  of  the  gods,  and 
ciuld  then  emerge  from  their  hidden  dwellings 
through  the  open  rissures  of  the  earth  to  the  places 
which  we  inhabit;  if  they  coulj  sutidenly  behold 
the  earth  and  the  sea  and  the  vault  of  heaven  ; 
could  recognise  the  expanse  of  the  cloudy  firma- 
ment, and  the  might  of  the  winds  of  heaven,  and 
admire  the  sun  in  his  majesty,  beauty,  and  radiant 
effulgence  ;  and  lastly,  when  night  veiled  the  earth 
in  darkness,  they  could  behold  the  starry  heavens, 
the  changing  moon,  and  the  stars  rising  and  setting 
in  the  unvarying  course  ordained  from  eternity, 
they  would  surely  exclaim,  "There  are  gods!  and 
such  great  things  must  be  the  work  of  their  hands." 
— Arutolle :  Quoted  by  Humboldt  in  his  Cosmos, 

{1492)  As  a  prisoner  in  a  dungeon  may  easily, 
by  a  little  beam  that  shineth  in  at  a  chink,  con- 
ceive there  is  a  sun,  from  whence  that  beam 
descendelh  ;  or  as  a  traveller  in  the  wilderness, 
that  falleth  upon  some  channel  or  brook,  may 
ascend  by  the  same  to  the  well  or  fountain  :  even 
so  he  that  belioldeth  and  considereth  the  wonderful 
works  of  the  world  may  thereby  conceive  of  the 
wonderful  Artificer  or  Worker  that  made  them. 

— Ca-udray,  1 609. 

(1493.)  The  visible  world  and  every  part  of  it  is 
a  book,  wherein  we  may  read  some  syllables  of  Clod. 
The  heathens  saw  God  in  heaven,  earth,  fire, 
water,  plants,  and  animals ;  all  creatures  being 
lines  drawn  from  the  centre.  Though  man  has 
not  the  knowledge  which  Adam  had,  since  the  flaw 
he  contracted  upon  his  understanding,  yet  there 
being  some  scattered  relics  of  this  knowledge,  he 
may,  by  looking  near  to  the  creatures,  discern,  by 
his  purblind  and  dim  sight,  something  of  the  attri- 
butes of  God,  every  creature  being  a  glass  which 
reflects  some  beams  of  God  upon  his  mind  ;  for  no 
man  in  his  wits  can  conclude  that  the  world  was 
made  by  chance,  but  by  some  being  more  wise 
than  any  being  in  the  world  can  be,,  or  than  all 
the  wisest  men  in  the  world  put  together.  We 
know  the  courage,  conduct,  and  power  of  a  general 
by  the  sight  of  his  conquests,  the  skilfulness  of  an 
artificer  by  the  excellence  of  his  work,  and  the 
eloquence  of  an  orator  by  reading  his  speech, 
though  we  never  saw  tiie  faces  of  any  of  tliem. 
'Jhere  are  very  few  attributes  but  the  works  of 
cieation  and  providence  discover  in  some  measure 
to  us  ;  the  invisible  things  of  God  from  the  creation 
of  the  world  are  clearly  seen,  being  understood  by 
the  things  that  are  made,  even  His  eternal  power 
and  Godhead"  (Rom.  i.  20). 

We  may  as  truly  conclude  all  this  of  God,  by 
the  i3ros[)ect  of  the  creation,  as  a  man  might  con- 
clude the  wisdom,  power,  and  magnilicence  of  the 
Romans  by  sight  of  their  pyramids,  theatres, 
statues,  buildings,  and  other  conveniences  in  the 
city  for  the  people ;  for  it  is  a  rational  way  of 
arguing,  from  the  excellency  of  the  effect  to  the 
excellency  of  the  cause,  and  from  the  perfection  of 
the  creature  to  the  perlection  of  God. 

— Ckarnock,  1628-1680. 

(1494.)  The  philosopher  conjectured  truly,  who, 
being  shipwrecked  on  the  island  of  Rhodes,  and 
"ome    to    the    shore,     sp  -ing    some    mathematical 


figures  drawn  on  the  sand,  cried  out  with  joy, 
"  Vertigia  hominum  vides,"  I  see  the  footsteps  of 
men,  and  comforted  his  despairing  companions, 
that  they  were  not  cast  into  a  desert,  or  place  of 
savages,  but  of  men  civil  and  wise,  as  he  dis- 
covered by  those  impressions  of  their  minds.  And 
if  we  observe  the  frame  of  the  world,  the  concatena- 
tion of  the  superior  with  the  middle,  and  of  the 
middle  with  the  lower  parts,  whereby  it  is  not  an 
accidental  aggregation  of  bodies,  but  an  entire 
universe  :  if  we  consider  the  just  disposing  them 
conveniently  to  their  nature  and  dignity,  the 
inferior  and  less  noble  depending  on  the  superior, 
and  that  so  many  contrary  natures  with  that 
fidelity  and  league  of  mutual  love  embiace  and 
assist  each  other,  that  every  one  working  according 
to  its  peculiar  quality,  yet  all  unite  their  operations 
for  one  general  end,  the  preservation  and  benefit  of 
the  whole,  must  we  not  strongly  conclude  that  it 
is  the  work  of  a  designing  and  most  wise  agent  ? 
— Bates,  1625-1699. 

2.  Its  revelation  of  Ood  is  necessarily  imper- 
fect. 

(1495.)  All  nature  is  incapable  of  discoveiir^ 
God  in  a  full  manner  as  He  may  be  known. 
Nature,  like  Zaccheus,  is  of  too  low  a  stature  to  see 
God  in  the  length  and  breadth,  heighth  and  depth, 
of  His  perfections.  The  key  of  man's  reason 
answers  not  to  all  the  wards  in  the  lock  of  those 
mysteries.  The  world  at  best  is  but  a  shadow  r.f 
God,  and  therefore  cannot  discover  Him  in  His 
magnificent  and  royal  virtues,  no  more  than  a 
shadow  can  discover  the  outward  beauty,  the 
excellent  mien,  and  the  inward  endowments  of  the 
person  whose  shadow  it  is.  All  that  a  shadow  will 
inform  me  of,  is  whether  it  be  the  shadow  of  a  mar 
or  brute.  It  discovers  something  of  God,  not  so 
much  of  Him  as  to  give  the  soul  a  full  com- 
placency ;  the  fruit  of  it  is  but  a  thirst  without  a 
satisfaction.  — Chainock,  i62S-i6i)Oi 

(1496.)  Nature  discovers  that  there  is  a  God, 
but  not  fully  wl-.at  that  God  is ;  nor  does  the 
creation  furnish  man  with  a  notion  of  Ciotl  suitable 
to  the  excellency  and  iinnierisity  of  His  nature  ;  as 
a  blind  man  who  hears  a  discourse  of  the  light  and 
heat  of  the  sun,  being  brought  under  tiie  beams  of 
it  striking  hot  upon  his  body,  feels  the  wavmlh 
and  knows  there  is  such  a  thing  men  call  tlie  sun, 
and  is  sensible  of  some  effects  of  it,  but  has  not  a 
full  concej)tion  of  the  enlightening  nature  of  the 
sun,  nor  knows  what  the  body  of  the  sun  is,  nor 
what  kind  of  shape  it  a])pears  in,  and  il  he  should 
declare  his  conception  of  it,  it  would  be  strangely 
different  from  the  true  nature  of  the  sun,  a  mon- 
strous mistaken  description  of  it,  not  suitable  to 
that  planet  ;  nay,  what  man  is  there  that  sees  the 
sun  every  day,  that  is  able  to  say  he  fully  knows  the 
nature  of  it  by  his  sight,  or  the  constant  influences 
which  he  feels  from  it  ? 

—  Charnock,  1628- 1680. 

(1497.)  Though  the  earth  is  crowded  with  proofs 
of  the  Divine  beneficence,  yet  the  worldly  man  sees 
but  a  glimpse  of  it ;  he  is  as  one  standing  only 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  temple  which  records 
God's  goodness.  ]5ut  the  true  believer  is  one  \»ho 
has  entered  iK  sacred  walls,  and  mingled  with  its 
worshippers.  The  great  display,  "  the  unspeakable 
gift,"  remains  within.      While  its  walls  are  hJled 


CREA  TION. 


(    266    ) 


CREATION. 


with  testimonies  sf  goodness  infinite,  on  the  altar  of 
sacrifice  he  sees  inscriljcd,  "God  so  loved  the 
world  that  lie  gave  His  only  begotten  Son." 
Now  he  can  exclaim,  "Herein  is  love!"  It  is 
he  that  can  say,  "Thanks  be  unto  God  for  His 
unspeakable  gift."  — Salter. 

X.  It  Is  all  "  very  good." 

{1498.)  Everyone  of  God's  worlcs  is  so  profit- 
able, that,  as  the  aromatic  fruit,  not  only  is  the 
kernal  a  nutmeg,  but  the  skin  of  it  is  mace.  As  in 
a  fair  suit  of  arras,  though  the  hangings  never 
appear  to  their  full  advantage,  but  when  they  are 
opened  in  all  their  dimensions,  and  seen  together, 
yet  a  small  shred  may  assure  you  of  the  excellency 
of  the  colour  and  the  richness  of  the  stuff;  so. 
though  the  Divine  perfections  would  ajipear  most 
in  their  beauty  and  glory,  if  we  were  able  at  one 
view  to  behold  the  whole  world  in  its  several 
eminences  and  beauties,  yet  a  little  part  of  it  may 
speak  the  worth  and  richness  of  the  whole. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(1499.)  We  can  never  neglect  the  meditation  of 
the  creatures  without  a  blemish  cast  on  the  Creator's 
wisdom.  As  every  river  can  conduct  us  to  the  sea, 
so  every  creature  points  us  to  an  ocean  of  infinite 
wisdom.  Not  tlie  minutest  of  them  but  rich  tracts 
of  this  may  be  observed  in  them,  and  a  due  sense  of 
God  result  from  tliem. 

The  whole  world  is  like  a  looking-glass,  which 
■whole  and  entire  represents  the  image  of  God,  and 
every  broken  piece  of  it,  every  shred  of  a  creature, 
doth  the  like.  His  name  is  glorious,  and  His  attri- 
butes are  excellent  in  all  the  earth,  as  the  glory  of 
the  sun  is  in  every  beam  ami  smaller  flash  ;  He  is 
seen  in  every  insect,  in  every  spire  of  grass. 

—  Chariiock,  162S-16S0. 

(1500.)  If  God  be  the  Creator  and  cause  of  all, 
then  we  must  remember  that  all  His  works  are  good  ; 
and  therefore  nothing  must  be  hated  by  us  that  He 
hath  matle,  considered  in  its  native  goodness.  God 
hateth  sin,  and  so  must  we:  for  that  He  made  it 
not  (Rev.  ii.  6;  Ps.  xlv.  7;  Isa.  i.  14).  And  He 
hateth  all  the  workers  of  iniquity  as  such  (I's.  v.  5)  ; 
and  so  nuist  we,  but  we  must  love  all  of  God  that 
is  in  them,  and  love  them  for  it.  That  is  somewhat 
good  and  amiable  in  every  creature  ;  yea,  all  of  it, 
that  is  of  God.  Though  toads  and  serpents  are 
odious  to  us,  because  they  are  hurtful,  and  seem 
deformed  in  themselves,  yet  are  they  good  in  them- 
selves, and  not  deformed  as  paits  of  the  universe  ; 
but  good  unto  the  couiiiion  end.  The  wants  in  the 
wheels  of  your  watch  are  as  useful  to  the  motion  as 
the  solid  parts.  The  night  is  part  of  the  useful 
order  <  f  the  creation  as  well  as  the  day.  The 
vacant  .nterspace  in  your  writing  is  needful  as  well 
as  the  words  ;  every  letter  should  not  be  a  vowel, 
nor  every  character  a  ca[)ital  ;  every  member  shoulil 
not  be  a  heart,  or  head,  or  eye  ;  nor  should  every 
one  in  a  commonwealth  be  a  king,  or  lord  :  So  in 
the  creation  the  parts  that  seem  base  are  useful  in 
their  places,  and  good  unto  their  ends.  Let  us  not, 
therefore,  vilify  or  detest  the  works  of  God,  but 
Study  the  excellences  of  them,  and  see,  and  admire, 
and  love  them  as  they  are  of  Goil. 

— Barter,  1615-1691. 

(1501.)  He  that  considers  how  little  our  consti- 
tution can  bear  a  remrve  into  parts  of  this  air  not 
much  higher  than  w?  Ireathe  in,  will  De  satisfied 


that  the  All-Wise  Architect  has  suited  our  organs  and 
the  bodies  that  are  to  affect  them,  one  to  another. 

— Locke. 

4.  Its  Inequalities  are  not  Imparfectlons. 

(1502.)  God  determined  llis  power  by  His  wis- 
dom, and  although  llis  absolute  p(3wer  could  have 
made  every  creature  better,  yet  His  ordinate  power, 
which  in  every  step  was  regulated  by  llis  wisdom, 
made  everything  best  for  its  designed  intention.  A 
musician  has  a  power  to  wind  up  a  string  on  a  lute 
to  a  higher  and  more  perfect  note  in  itself;  but  in 
wisdom  he  will  not  do  it,  because  the  intended 
melody  would  be  disturbed  thereby  if  it  were  not 
suited  to  the  other  strings  on  the  instrument  ;  a  dis- 
cord would  mar  and  taint  the  harmony  which  the 
lutinist  designed.  God  in  creation  observed  the 
pro}5orlions  of  nature  ;  He  can  make  a  spider  as 
strong  as  a  lion,  but,  according  to  the  order  of  nature 
which  He  has  settled,  it  is  not  convenient  that  a 
creature  of  so  small  a  comi)ass  shoukl  be  as  strong 
as  one  of  a  greater  bulk.  God's  power  is  always 
regulated  Ijy  His  wisdom  and  will,  and  though  it 
produces  not  what  is  most  perfect  in  itself,  yet  what 
is  most  jierfect  and  decent  in  relation  to  the  end 
He  fixed.  — Chariiock,  1628-168G. 

(1503.)  It  is  tnie,  indeed,  that  there  are  degrees 
of  perfection  in  the  creatures,  and  God  is  not  equally 
good  to  all  of  them.  Those  creatures  which  are  of 
more  noble  and  excellent  natures,  and  to  which  He 
hath  communicateil  more  degrees  of  perfection,  they 
partake  more  of  His  goodness,  and  are  more  glori- 
ous instances  of  it  ;  but  every  creature  partakes  of 
the  Divine  goodness  in  a  ceitain  degree,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  and  capacity  of  it.  God,  if  He 
pleased,  co'i'd  have  matle  nothing  but  immortal 
spirits  ;  and  lie  could  have  made  as  many  of  these 
as  there  are  individual  creatures  of  all  sorts  in  the 
world  ;  but  it  seemed  good  to  the  wise  Architect, 
to  make  several  ranks  and  orders  of  beings,  and  to 
dis|ilay  His  ]iower,  and  goodness,  and  wisdom,  in 
all  imaginable  variety  of  creatures,  all  of  which 
shoukl  be  good  in  their  kind,  though  far  short  cf 
the  perfection  of  angels  aiul  immortal  spirits. 

He  that  will  build  a  house  for  all  the  uses  and 
purjxjses  of  which  a  house  is  cajiable,  cannot  make 
it  all  foundation,  and  great  beams  and  pillars  ;  must 
not  so  contrive  it,  as  to  make  all  rooms  of  state  and 
entertainment  ;  but  there  must  of  necessity  be  in  it 
meaner  materials,  rooms  and  offices  for  several  uses 
and  purposes,  which,  however  inferior  to  the  rest 
in  dignity  and  degree,  do  yet  contribute  to  th.e 
beauty  and  advantage  of  the  whole.  So  in  this 
great  frame  of  the  world,  it  was  fit  there  should  be 
variety  and  different  degrees  of  perfection  in  the 
several  parts  of  it  ;  and  this  is  so  far  from  being  an 
im]ieachment  of  the  wisdom  or  goodness  of  Him 
that  made  it,  that  it  is  an  evidence  of  both. 

—  y  'liiotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

6.  In  TThat  spirit  It  Is  to  be  studied. 

(1504.)  \'ou  must  carefully  note,  that  the  depend- 
ence of  the  creature  on  God,  is  not  to  be  fully  mani- 
fest by  the  dependence  of  any  creature  upon  another. 
The  line  is  locally  tlisiant  from  the  centre  ;  and  tl;e 
streams  are  locally  distant  from  the  spring,  though 
they  are  contiguous,  and  have  the  dej^endency  of  an 
eflect.  But  God  is  not  local,  and  so  not  locally  dis- 
tant from  us.     The  nearest  similitude  is  that  of  the 


CREATION. 


(    267    ) 


CREATION. 


body's  dependence  on  the  soul  (which  yet  doth  fall 
exceeding  short).  In  God  both  we  and  every  crea- 
ture do  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being.  As  no 
man  of  reason  will  talk  to  a  corpse,  nor  dwell  and 
converse  with  any  man  merely  as  corporeal,  without 
respect  to  tiie  soul  ihat  doth  animate  him,  nor  will 
he  fall  in  love  with  a  corpse  ;  so  no  man  that  is 
spiritually  wise  (so  far  as  he  is  so)  will  once  look 
upon  any  creature,  much  less  converse  with  it,  or 
fall  in  love  with  it,  barely  as  a  creature,  conceiving 
it  as  a  thing  that  is  separated  from  God,  or  not 
positively  conceiving  of  God  as  animating  it,  and  as 
being  its  Aljiha  and  Omega,  its  beginning  and  end, 
its  principal  efficient,  and  ultimate  tinai  cause,  at 
least.  Kor  this  were  to  imagine  the  carcase  of  a 
creature,  and  to  conceive  of  it  as  such  a  thing  as  is 
not  in  being.  For  out  of  the  God  of  nature  the 
creature  is  nothing,  nor  can  do  anything  ;  for  there 
is  no  such  thing  ;  even  as  out  of  Christ  the  Lord  of 
spiritual  life  and  grace  the  new  creature  is  nothing, 
and  we  can  do  nothing ;  for  there  is  no  such  new 
creature. 

You  have  here  the  very  difference  between  a 
carnal  and  a  spiritual  life.  The  carnal  man  doth 
see  only  the  carcase  of  the  worki,  and  is  blind  to 
God,  and  seelh  not  llim,  when  he  seeth  that  which 
is  animated  by  Him.  Bui  the  spiritual  man  seeth 
God  in  and  by  the  creature,  and  the  creature  is 
nothing  to  him,  but  in  God.  As  an  illiterate  man 
doth  look  upon  a  book,  and  seeth  only  the  letters, 
and  taketh  pleasure  in  their  shape  and  order,  and 
falls  a  playing  with  it  as  children  do  ;  but  he  seeth 
not,  nor  understands  the  sense  ;  and,  therefore  if  it 
contamed  the  most  noble  n^ysteries  of  the  greatest 

t)romises,  even  such  as  his  life  tlid  depend  upon,  he 
oveth  it  not  in  any  such  respect  ;  nor  doth  he  for 
that  delight  in  it  :  but  let  a  learned  man  have  the 
perusing  of  the  same  book,  and  though  he  may 
commend  the  clearness  of  the  character,  yet  it  is 
the  sense  that  he  princiimlly  observeth,  and  the 
sense  that  he  loveth,  and  the  sense  that  he  delight- 
eth  in  ;  and,  therefore,  as  the  sense  is  incomparably 
more  excellent  than  the  character  simply  considered, 
so  it  is  a  higher  and  more  excellent  kind  of  know- 
ledge and  delight  which  he  hath  in  the  book,  than 
that  which  the  illiterate  hath.  Anil  indeed  it  is  an 
imaginary  annihilation  of  the  book,  and  of  every 
character  of  it  formally  considered,  to  conceive  of 
it  as  separated  from  the  sense  ;  for  the  very  essence 
of  it  is  to  be  a  sign  of  that  sense  ;  and,  therefore, 
as  the  illiterate  cannot  see  the  sense  of  words  and 
letters,  the  wood  for  trees,  so  the  literate  can  see 
no  such  thing  as  words  without  sense,  nor  would 
regard  the  materials  but  for  this  signifying  use. 

1  have  expressed  the  similitude  in  more  words 
than  1  use  in  such  cases,  because  it  much  illustrateth 
our  present  matter.  It  was  never  the  mind  of  God 
to  make  the  great  body  of  this  world  to  stand  as  a 
separated  thing,  or  to  be  an  idol.  He  made  all  this 
for  Himself.  The  whole  creation  is  one  entire 
volume,  and  the  sense  of  every  line  is  God.  His 
name  is  legible  on  every  creature,  and  he  that  seeth 
not  God  in  all,  undcrsiande'.h  not  the  sense  of  the 
creation.  As  it  is  eternal  life  to  know  God,  so  this 
God  is  the  life  of  the  creature  which  we  know,  and 
the  knowing  of  Him  in  it  is  the  life  of  all  our  know- 
ledge. The  illiterate  world  doth  gaze  upon  the 
creatures,  and  fall  in  love  with  the  outside  and 
materials,  and  play  with  il,  but  understandeth  not 
a  creature.  By  separating  it  in  their  ajiprehensions 
from  God,  the  sense,  they  do  annihilate  the  world 


to  themselves,  as  to  its  principal  use  and  significa- 
tion. — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1505.)  When  I  was  in  the  galleries  of  Oxford,  I 
saw  many  of  the  designs  of  Raphael  and  Michael 
Angelo.  1  looked  upon  them  with  reverence, 
and  took  up  such  of  them  as  I  was  permitted 
to  touch  as  one  would  take  up  a  love  token.  It 
seemed  to  me  these  sketches  brought  me  nearer 
the  great  masters  than  their  finishetl  pictures  could 
have  ilone,  because  therein  I  saw  the  minds'  prin- 
cesses as  they  were  fust  born.  They  were  the  tirst 
salient  points  of  the  inspiration.  Could  1  have 
brought  them  home  with  me,  how  rich  I  should 
have  been  !  how  envied  for  their  possession  !  Now, 
there  are  open  and  free  to  us,  every  day  of  our 
lives,  the  designs  of  a  greater  than  Raphael  or 
Michael  Angelo.  God,  of  whom  the  noblest 
master  is  but  a  feeble  imitator,  is  sketching  and 
painting  every  hour  the  most  wondrous  pictures— 
not  hoarded  in  any  gallery,  but  spread  in  light  and 
shadow  round  the  whole  earth,  and  glowing  for  us 
in  the  overhanging  skies.  — BcLcker. 

(1506.)  I  have  in  my  house,  a  little  sheet  of 
paper  on  which  there  is  a  faint,  pale,  and  not 
|)articularly  skilful  representation  of  a  liyacinih. 
It  is  not  half  as  beautiful  as  many  other  pictures 
I  have,  but  I  regard  it  as  the  most  exquisite  of  them 
all.  My  mother  painted  it  ;  and  1  never  see  it 
that  I  do  not  think  that  her  hand  rested  on  it,  and 
that  her  thought  was  concerned  in  its  execu- 
tion. 

Now,  suppose  you  had  such  a  conception  of  God 
that  you  never  saw  a  flower,  a  tree,  a  cloud,  or  any 
natural  object,  that  you  did  not  instantly  think, 
"My  Father  made  it,"  what  a  natural  world  would 
this  become  to  you!  How  beautiful  would  the 
earth  seem  to  you  I  And  how  would  you  find  that 
nature  was  a  revelation  of  God,  speaking  as  plainly 
as  His  written  Word!  And  if  you  are  alone,  in 
solitude,  without  company,  desolate  in  your  cir- 
cumstances, it  is  because  you  have  not  that  inner 
sense  of  the  Divine  love  and  care,  which  it  is  your 
privilege  to  have,  and  which  you  ought  to  have. 

— Beechcr. 

6.  "Lo,  these  are  parts  of  His  ways;  but  how 
little  a  portion  is  heard  of  Him  ! " 

(1507.)  It  is  probable  that  there  may  be  some 
peculiar  manifestations  of  the  character  and  govein- 
meni  of  God  in  each  one  of  the  worlds  that  He 
has  made,  i  mean,  that,  in  the  countless  numbers 
of  worlds  which  He  has  called  into  existence,  there 
may  be  that  to  be  learneil  about  God  on  any  one  of 
tiiem  which  could  be  learned  on  no  other ;  that 
each  has  its  own  history,  its  own  veij^etable,  animal, 
or  mineral  arrangement  ;  antl  perhaps  that  each 
may  have  some  one  great  lesson  to  teach  to  all 
other  worlds  about  the  moral  government  of  the 
Cieator.  'i'here  are  indeed  certain  great  lessons 
which  would  be  common  to  all  —  for  all  make 
known  the  same  God  ;  but  in  the  endless  vaiiety 
everywhere  manifested,  it  is  lo  be  presumed  that 
new  views  would  be  unfolded  in  dilierent  parts  0/ 
the  universe  respecting  the  Creator.  In  the  llorai 
department  of  the  kingdom  of  nature  on  our  own 
globe,  for  example,  there  wouhi  he  everywhere 
discerned  proofs  of  the  existence  of  the  same  God, 
anil  of  the  same  attributes  of  wisdom,  power,  a'-  \ 
;;oodness,    but,    in   travelling    from  pole   to   pole. 


CURIOSITY. 


i    203    ) 


CUR  I  OS n  y. 


through  the  various  zones,  on  hills  and  through 
valleys,  in  lawns  and  meadows,  in  journeying  in 
Persia,  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  on  the  prairie, 
in  the  jirofiised  and  varied  vegetation  of  the  tropics, 
or  in  the  cold  of  the  north,  where  the  lonely  flower 
sjirings  up  beside  the  bank  of  snow,  how  varied  is 
the  view  ;  how  new  are  the  lessons  tauijht  ;  how 
the  mind  is  kept  intensely  active  in  its  admiration 
of  a  tiod  who  is  "wonderful  in  working."  A 
similar  thing  on  a  much  grander  scale,  it  is  probable, 
occurs  in  the  endless  variety  of  worlds  which  God 
has  strewed  over  the  heavens. 

— Barnes,  179S-1870. 


CURIOSITY. 

1.  Its  folly. 

(1508.)  It  is  a  great  sign  of  knowledge  not  to  be 
curious  about  everything,  nor  to  wish  to  know  all 
things.  And  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  explain 
riyseif  by  an  example. 

Let  U-;  suppose  a  river,  or  rather  rivers  (T  ask  no 
allowance,  1  only  speak  of  what  rivers  really  are), 
all  are  not  of  the  same  depth.  Some  have  a 
shallow  bed,  others  one  deep  enough  to  drown  one 
unacquainted  with  it.  In  one  part  there  are  whirl- 
pools, and  not  in  another.  It  is  good,  therefore, 
to  forbear  to  make  trial  of  all,  and  it  is  no  small 
proof  of  knowledge  not  to  wish  to  sound  all  the 
depths  ;  whereas  he  who  would  venture  on  every 
part  of  the  river  is  really  most  ignorant  of  the 
peculiar  nature  of  rivers,  and  will  be  often  in  danger 
of  perishing,  from  venturing  into  the  deeper  parts 
with  the  same  boldness  with  which  he  crossed  the 
shallows. 

So  it  is  in  the  things  of  God.  He  that  will  know 
all  things,  and  ventures  to  intrude  into  everything, 
he  it  is  that  is  most  ignorant  what  God  is.  And  of 
rivers,  indeed,  the  greater  part  is  safe,  and  the 
depths  and  whirlpools  few,  but  with  respect  to 
the  things  of  God,  the  greater  part  is  hidden, 
and  it  is  not  possible  to  trace  out  His  works.  Why 
then  art  thou  bent  on  drowning  thyself  in  those 
depths  ?  — Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(1509.)  He  that  would  comprehend  all  things, 
apprehends  nothing.  As  he  that  comes  to  a  corn 
heap,  the  more  he  opens  his  hand  to  take,  the  less 
he  graspeth,  the  less  he  holdeth.  Where  the  Scrip- 
ture hath  no  tongue,  we  should  have  no  ear. 

—  Adatits,  1653. 

(1510.)  \Vhy  do  we  study  that  which  is  impos- 
sible to  learn?  What  kind  of  fruit  soever  that  was 
for  which  our  first  parents  sold  their  birthright  in 
I'aradise,  1  am  sure  there  was  not  juice  enough  in 
it  to  quench  that  hot  thirst  of  forbidden  knowledge 
which  they  imparted  to  their  posterity.  But  that 
which  only  distempered  Adam's  taste  is  now  be- 
come inherent  in  mankind  ;  that  the  more  they 
know,  the  more  they  desire  ;  and  the  admitting 
them  to  one  secret,  doth  but  hearten  them  on  to 
seek  for  another.  We  all  take  after  Eve,  and  setting 
our  shoulders  to  the  very  portals  of  God's  privy 
chamber,  in  we  must  go,  and  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  Divine  counsel. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(151 1.)  The  way  to  make  us  mere  fools,  is  to 
aiifect   to   know   more   than   God   would   have   us. 


Adam's  tree  of  knowledge  made  him  and  hil 
posterity  fools.  Curiosity  was  the  bait,  whereby 
the  devil  caugl.t  our  first  parents,  and  undid  us  aiu 

— Brooks,  16S0. 
2.  Its  perllousness. 

(1512.)  Men  may  soon  be  too  bold  with  hidden 
mysteries  ;  he  that  modestly  looks  upon  the  sun, 
sees  a  glorious  torch,  and  receives  a  comfortable 
light ;  but  he  that  fixeth  his  eyes  too  earnestly  upon 
it,  is  struck  blind  ;  and  because  he  will  see  more 
than  he  should,  comes  in  the  end  to  see  nothing  at 
all.  — Adams,  1653. 

(1513.)  He  that  pryeth  into  every  cloud  may  b* 
stricken  with  a  thunderbolt.  — Eliza  Cook. 

8.  Its  Injurlousness. 

(15 14.)  [On  the  sight  of  a  fly  burtn'n^  itself  in  the 
candle). — Wise  Solomon  says,  The  light  is  a  pleasant 
thing  ;  and  so  certainly  it  is  ;  but  there  is  no  true 
outward  light  which  proceeds  not  from  fire.  The 
light  of  that  fire  then  is  not  more  pleasing  than  the 
fire  of  that  light  is  dangerous  :  and  that  pleasur^ 
doth  not  more  draw  on  our  sight  than  that  danger 
forbids  our  approach.  How  foolish  is  the  fly  that, 
in  a  love  and  admiration  of  this  light,  will  know  no 
distance  ;  but  puts  itself  heedlessly  into  that  flame, 
wherein  it  perishes  !  How  many  bouts  it  fetched, 
every  one  nearer  than  other,  ere  it  made  this  last 
venture,  and  now  that  merciless  fire,  taking  no 
notice  of  the  affection  of  an  over-fond  client,  hath 
suddenly  consumed  it. 

Thus  do  those  bold  and  busy  spirits,  who  will 
needs  draw  too  near  unto  that  inaccessible  light, 
and  look  mto  things  too  wonderful  for  them  :  so 
long  do  they  hover  about  the  secret  counsels  of  the 
Almighty,  till  the  wings  of  their  presumptuous 
conceits  be  scorched  ;  and  their  daring  curiosity 
hath  paid  them  witli  everlasting  destruction. 

O  Lord,  let  me  be  blessed  with  the  knowledge 
of  what  Thou  hast  revealed  :  let  me  content  myself 
to  adore  '1  hy  Divine  Wisdom,  in  what  Thou  hast 
not  revealed.  So  let  me  enjoy  Thy  light,  that  I 
may  avoid  Thy  fire.  — Ilall,  1 574-1656. 

(1515.)  Nothing  wraps  a  man  in  such  a  mist  of 
errors  as  his  own  curiosity  in  searching  things  beyond 
him.  How  happily  do  they  live  tiiai  know  notiiing 
but  what  is  necessary  !  Our  knowletlge  does  but 
show  us  our  ignorance.  Our  most  studious  scrutiny 
is  but  a  discovery  of  what  we  cannot  know.  We 
see  the  effect,  but  cannot  guess  at  the  cause. 
Learning  is  like  a  river,  whose  head  being  far  in 
the  land,  is,  at  first  rising,  little  anc'  easily  viewed  ; 
but  still,  as  you  go,  it  gapes  with  a  wider  bank  : 
not  without  pleasure,  and  delightful  winding  ;  while 
it  is  still  on  both  sides  set  with  trees,  and  the 
beauties  of  various  flow  ers  ;  but  still,  the  further 
you  follow  it,  the  deeper  and  the  broader  it  is  ;  till, 
at  last,  it  enwaves  itself  in  the  unfalhomed  ocean. 
There  you  see  more  water ;  .but  no  shore,  no  end 
of  that  liquid,  fluid  vastness.  In  many  things  we 
sound  nature,  in  the  shallows  of  her  revelations  :  we 
may  trace  her  to  her  second  causes ;  but  beyond 
them  we  meet  with  nothing  but  the  puzzle  of  the 
soul  and  the  dazzle  of  the  mind's  dim  eyes.  While 
we  speak  of  things  that  are,  that  we  may  dissect, 
and  have  power  and  means  to  find  the  causes,  there 
is  some  pleasure,  some  certainty  ;  but  when  we 
come  to  meta[ihysics,  to  long-buried  antiquity,  and 
unto  unrevealed  divinity,  we  are  in  a  sea  which  is 


CURIOSITY 


(    269     ) 


CUSTOM. 


deeper  than  the  short  reach  of  the  life  of  man. 
Much  may  be  pained  by  studious  inquisition  ;  but 
much  more  will  ever  rest,  which  man  cannot  dis- 
cover. —  Felltham,  1668,/.  66. 

(1516.)  I  think  that  faith  and  much  thinking  do 
not  dwell  well  together;  not  in  religion  alone.  I 
do  not  think  it  does  to  tliink  too  much  in  friendship. 
Let  a  child  think  about  all  the  things  he  sees  his 
father  and  mother  do,  and  see  if  he  loves  them  any 
bettei  <ifter  that.  Let  a  friend  go  about  insisting 
upon  reducing  all  feelings  and  instincts  to  tlioughts, 
and  strive  to  understand  the  nature  of  emotion  by 
tliinking — let  him,  instead  of  giving  liberty  in  his 
heart,  go  to  applying  his  philosophy  to  his  friends, 
and  see  if  he  will  stand  nobler  in  friendship  or  not. 
Let  him  go  out  into  the  realm  of  thinking  about 
eternal  things,  and  it  would  be  just  as  foolish.  Let 
a  man  begin  to  study  the  relations  of  the  race  to 
God's  government,  and  all  the  mutations  of  govern- 
ment, all  natural  and  civil  law,  and  all  the  ten 
thousand  questions  that  rise  up  before  the  mind 
that  thinks  and  is  inquisitive  of  such  thoughts  as 
these,  and  the  fact  is  that  idea,  stars,  land,  sea, 
everything — the  more  a  man  thinks  upon  them,  the 
less  is  he  strong,  and  the  more  is  he  enervated. 
The  great  depths  give  up  their  mists,  and  these 
banks  of  white  silver  hue  are  hid  in  the  fog.  There 
are  hours  when  it  seems  as  though  everything  is 
swept  away  from  us ;  that  there  is  no  heaven,  that 
it  is  all  fancy  and  a  dream  ;  that  there  is  no  respon- 
sibility ;  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  sin  and 
virtue  ;  that  we  are  all  so  many  animals,  we  are  all 
following  the  instincts  and  circumstances  that 
press  without  us  ;  there  is  no  God,  or  He  would 
speak,  or  certainly  He  would  give  us  some  token 
in  our  extrsmest  anguish  that  He  is  near ;  there 
would  be  some  dawn  of  light.  There  are  a  great 
many  men  who  strive  to  explain  these  doubts  by 
reference  to  the  natural  laws,  but  no  man  has 
followed  this  line  of  thought  to  any  satisfaction. 
There  are  a  great  many  happy,  genial,  and  hope- 
ful theologians  that  tliink  at  last  they  have  got  up 
early  enough  to  find  out  God,  and  so  in  every 
generation  you  will  find  a  man  that  explains  every- 
thing. He  does  until  the  next  man  kicks  it,  and  it 
all  goes  back  to  dust  again.  When  you  shall  chain 
the  waves  of  the  sea  that  they  shall  not  rise  any 
more ;  when  you  shall  fasten  in  the  tops  of  the 
forest  the  winds  that  rock  them,  that  make  them 
sigh  their  dirges  m  winter  and  sing  their  anthems 
in  summer ;  when  you  shall  stay  the  courses  of  the 
stars  and  bind  tlie  earth  that  it  shall  not  roll  in  its 
orbit,  then  you  may  take  these  great  questions,  and, 
by  the  bands  of  your  thought  and  by  the  cords  of 
your  philosophy  you  may  fasten  them  ;  but  so  long 
as  you  cannot  do  that,  so  long  will  they  have  free 
course.  And  so  with  the  thoughts  of  man.  There 
must  needs  come  hours  when  a  man  fmds  himself 
quite  drifted  away  from  his  old  thoughts.  Con- 
tagious hours  they  are,  hours  of  great  trouble, 
awakening  hours  of  philosophy  and  of  doubt. 

In  such  hours  as  this  there  is  nothing  for  it  but 
to  run,  and  there  is  but  one  way  to  run,  and  that  is 
Godward.  A  man  in  these  hours  that  does  not  run 
for  God,  should  run  for  the  lunatic  asylum.  There 
is  but  one  way  in  which  a  man  can  find  any  rest, 
and  that  is  to  say  blindly  but  desperately,  "There 
is  a  Thinker,  there  is  a  Controller,  and  if  men  have 
not  drawn  His  lineaments  right,  and  if  the  portrai- 
ture of  the  books  is  not  right,  one  thing  1  know, 


my  soul  proclaims  there  is  goodness  and  wisdom, 
there  is  control.  Whatever  it  is  I  seize  it,  I  hold 
by  an  anchor  to  that  blessed  hope."  The  very 
moment  a  man  begins  to  hold  by  that,  sometimes, 
as  by  an  electric  touch,  the  clouds  fade  away,  the 
sweet  beaming  face  of  Christ  shines  again,  and  all 
the  mists  have  gone  as  sometimes  you  have  seen 
them  in  the  morning  disappear,  you  know  not  how  ; 
we  are  bright  again  and  have  joy  in  Christ,  and  in 
all  the  blessed  promises  of  His  Word  ;  and  the 
miracles  recorded  there  are  not  half  as  marvellous 
as  the  miracles  wrought  in  the  sweet  experience  of 
Christians  every  day,  — Beecher, 

4.  Its  sinfulness. 

(1517.)  As  the  Egyptian  who  carried  somewhat 
wound  up  in  his  napkin,  answered  unto  him  that 
demanded  what  it  was,  that  he  had  covered  it  to 
the  end  that  no  man  should  see  it  :  so,  likewise, 
must  we  learn,  that  if  there  be  anything  hidden  and 
laid  up  in  the  works  of  God  it  is  of  purpose  kept 
from  us,  to  the  end  that  we  should  not  be  too  curi- 
ous to  inquire  after  it,  that  it  is  far  better  to  be 
utterly  ignorant  herein  than  to  have  all  the  know- 
ledge thereof  that  may  be.         —  Cawdi-ay,  1609. 

(1518.)  As  there  is  a  foolish  wisdom,  so  there  is 
a  wise  ignorance  ;  in  not  prying  into  God's  ark,  not 
inquiring  into  things  not  revealed.  I  would  fain 
know  all  that  I  need,  and  all  that  I  may  :  I  leave 
God's  secrets  to  Himself.  It  is  happy  for  me  that 
God  makes  me  of  His  Court  though  not  of  His 
Council.  — Hall,  1574-1656. 


CUSTOM. 

1.  Defined, 

(15 19.)  It  is  to  be  observed  that  at  the  present 
day  it  is  common  to  use  the  words  "  custom  "  and 
"habit"  as  synonymous,  and  often  to  employ  the 
latter  where  13acon  would  have  used  the  former. 
But,  strictly  speaking,  they  denote  respectively  the 
cause  and  the  effect.  Repeated  acts  constitute  the 
"custom;"  and  the  "habit"  is  the  condition  of 
mind  or  body  thence  resulting.  For  instance,  a 
man  who  has  been  accustomed  to  rise  at  a  certain 
hour  will  have  acquired  the  habit  of  waking  and 
being  ready  to  rise  as  soon  as  that  hour  arrives. 
And  one  who  has  made  it  his  custom  to  drink  drams 
will  have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  craving  for  that 
stimulus,  and  of  yielding  to  that  craving  ;  and  so  of 
the  rest.  — Whately. 

2.  Reveals  character. 

(1520.)  A  man  is  known  by  his  custom  and  the 
course  of  his  endeavours  what  is  his  business.  If  a 
man  be  constantly,  easily,  and  frequently  carried 
away  to  sin,  it  discovers  a  habit  of  soul  and  the 
temper  of  his  heart.  Meadows  may  be  overflowed, 
but  marsh  ground  is  drowned  with  the  return  of 
every  tide.  A  child  of  God  may  be  carried  away, 
and  act  contrary  to  the  bent  and  inclination  of  the 
new  nature  ;  but  when  men  are  drowned  and  over- 
come with  the  return  of  every  temptation,  and 
carried  away,  it  argues  a  habit  of  sin. 

— Manton,  1620-1667. 

8.  Not  tlie  standard  of  rlglit. 

(1521.)  "  Know  that  the  Lord  has  set  apart  him 
that  is  godly  for  Himself."       Therefore    it    is    no 


CUSTOM. 


(     270    ) 


CUSTOM. 


excuse  for  him  to  say,  "  I  do  but  as  others  do." 
He  is  to  reckon  his  hours  by  the  sun,  not  the  town 
clock  ;  to  take  God's  direction,  not  the  vice  of  the 
muhitudes,  as  one  of  their  stamp  and  at  liberty  to 
comply  with  their  fashions. 

— Manton,  1620-1667. 

{1522.)  Custom  in  moral  practices  becomes  law 
to   men,    by   pressing  upon   their  modesty,  and  by 
outfacing    truth    and     piety.       So    tliat  unless    the 
custom    have  warranty   from   the    law,    it    has    the 
same  effect  against  the  law  as  for  it ;  and,  therefore, 
in  such  cases,  is  at  no  hand  to  be  trusted,  but  at 
every  hand  to  be  suspected,  lest  it  make  it  necessary 
that    men   become   vicious.     The   customs   of    the 
German  and  neighbouring  nations  so  expound  the 
laws  of  Christ  concerning  temperance,    that  if  by 
their  measures  it  be  defined,  it  looks  so  like  intem- 
perance as  milk  to  milk.     And  the  common  cus- 
toms of  the  world  so  expound  all  the  laws  of  the 
blessed  Jesus,   so   as  to  be  truly  obligatory  at   no 
time,  but  in  the  danger,  or  in  the  article  of  death. 
But  certainly  it  is  but  an  ill  gloss  that  evacuates  all 
•the    holy   purposes  of  the  commandment ;  and  at 
■the  day  of  Judgment,  when  we  shall  see  numberless 
numbers  of  the  damned   hurried   to  their  sad  suf- 
ferings, it  will  be  but  an  ill  apology  to  say,  "  I  did 
as  all   the  world  almost  beside  me,  by  whose  cus- 
toms I  understood  the  laws  of  the  gospel  to  a  sense 
of  ease  and  gentleness,  and  not  by  the  severity  of  a 
few  morose    preachers."       Poggius    tells   us    of    a 
Neapolitan  shepherd,  that  against  Easter,  going  to 
confession,  he  told  his  confessor  with  a  tender  con- 
science   and    great   sorrow    of  heart,    that   he    had 
broken  the  holy  feast  of  Lent,  by  chance  indeed, 
but  yet  with  some  little  pleasure ;  for  when  he  was 
pressing  of  a  new  cheese,  some  of  the  whey  start 
from  the  vessel  and  leaped  into  his  mouth,  and  so 
went  into  his  stomach.     The  priest,  smiling  a  little 
at  the  phantasmic  conscience  of  the  man,  asked  him 
if  he  was   guilty   of  nothing   else.     The  shepherd 
saying,  "he  knew  of  nothing  else  that  did  or  ought 
to   trouble    him  ; "  his  confessor  knowing  the  cus- 
toms of  those  people  upon  the  mountains  of  Naples, 
asked   him  if  he  had  never  robbed  or  killed  any 
stranger  passengers.     "Oh  yes,"  replied  the  shep- 
herd, "  I  have  been  often  at  that  employment ;  but 
that  we  do  every  day,   and  always  did   so,  and  I 
liope  that  is   no   sin."      But  the  cheese,  the  for- 
bidd«n  cheese  stuck  in  his  stomach,  because  every 
one  did   abominate  such   meat  upon  fasting-days  ; 
only  the  custom  of  killing  and  stealing  had    har- 
dened his  heart  and    forehead,  till  it  was  not  per- 
cdved.  — yeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

4.  No  excuse  for  sin. 

(1523.)  It  is  said  of  a  prisoner,  that,  standing  at 
the  bar,  indicted  for  felony,  he  was  asked  by  the 
judge  what  he  could  say  for  himself.  "Truly,  my 
lord,"  says  he,  "  I  did  mean  no  hurt  when  I  stole  ; 
it  is  an  evil  custom  that  I  have  gotten  ;  I  have 
been  used  to  it  ever  since  I  knew  anything." 
"  Why,  then,"  says  the  judge,  "  if  it  be  thy  custom 
to  steal,  it  is  my  custom  to  hang  up  thieves."  So, 
if  it  be  any  man's  custom  to  swear  upon  every 
slight  occasion,  it  is  God's  custom  not  to  hold  them 
guiltless  that  take  His  name  in  vain.  Is  it  any 
man's  custom  to  whore  and  be  drunk,  it  is  God's 
custom  to  judge  them.  Whatsoever  the  sin  be, 
there  is  no  pleading  of  custom  to  excuse  it — as, 
that  they  meant  no  ha.^n,  it  was  against  their  will. 


&c.  All  the  fig  leaves  that  can  be  gathered,  and 
sewed  never  so  close,  will  not  hide  their  nakedness 
from  the  eyes  of  heaven  ;  God  will  certainly  bring 
them  to  judgment.  — Fawcet. 

(1524.)  Our  business  is  not  to  look  to  what  men 
do,     but    to    what    God    speaketh.      It    is   highly 
derogatory    to    the    Supreme    Being    to    make    the 
examples  of  men,  and  not  His  commands,  the  rule 
of  our  lives.     The  examples  of  murderers,  thieves, 
drunkards,  swearers,  are  of  as  much  force  against 
the  good  and  wholesome  law  of  a  prince,  as  the 
irreligious   examples   of  any   men  are  against  the 
holy  and  righteous  laws  of  God.     A  judge  would 
deride  the  malefactor's  plea  that  should   say,  "  It 
is  true  I  have  broken  the  king's  laws,  but  have  done 
no  more  than  such  an  esquire,  or  knight,  or  lord  ; 
I  have  but  imitated  them  therein."     Or  that  should 
say,  "  I   was  guilty  of  such  treasons,  but  I  joined 
with    many    other   traitors  ;  I    had    good    store   of 
company  with  me."     And  dost  thou  think,  reader, 
the  Judge    of  quick    and    dead,    when    He    shall 
arraign    thee    for   thine   unchangeable   estate,    and 
demand  of  thee  why  thou  omittedst  the  duties  He 
enjoined  thee,  will  accept  thy  plea  when  thou  shall 
say,  "  It  is  true.  Lord,  I  did  hve  without  Scripture 
or  prayer  in  my  family,  but  such  and  such  great 
men  who  lived  near  me  did  so  as  well  as  I  ;  I  wrote 
after  their  copies,  and    thought  it  would  be  well 
enough   to  do  as  they  did."     Or  when  thou  shalt 
say.  "  Lord,  though  1  neglected  Thy  worship  and 
service,  I  followed  therein  almost  all  the  town  and 
parish    where    I    lived,    and    I   judged    it   best    to 
imitate  the  most."     Canst  thou  imagine  that  such 
a  silly,  simple  excuse  will  bear  any  weight?     Thou 
wilt  not  take  such  a  pitiful  plea  from  any  child  or 
servant  in  thy  family.     If  thy  child,  when  reproved 
by  thee  for  drunkenness,  or  thieving,  or  disobeying 
thy   commands,    should    excuse    himself  and    say, 
"Sir,  other   men's  sons  are  as  bad  as   I;  such  a 
gentleman's  sons  are  worse  ;  the  children  of  very 
many  meet  and  join  with   me  in  all   my  drinking, 
stealing,   and  debauched  courses.     How  ill  would 
such   an   answer  sound  in   thine  ears !     Or   what 
wouldst  thou  think  if  thy  servant,  instead  of  doing 
the  work  appointed  him,  should  run  from  alehouse 
to   alehouse,    and  spend  his    time  in   carding  and 
dicing,  and  then   excuse  it   to  thee  that  he  did  as 
others  did  ;  there  were  many  beside  himself,  and 
some  of  quality  who  were  examples  to  him  ?     Con- 
sider how   poor,    how  pitiful,  how  irrational  a  plea 
it   is    to    excuse  thy  disobedience   to    God    by  thy 
imitation  of  irreligious  men  ;  and  do  not  think  that 
the    great   God    will    take    that    excuse    from   thee 
which  thou  wilt  not  from  a  child  or  servant. 

•  — S',uiiinock,  1673. 

(1525.)  "Follow  not  a  multitude  to  do  evil." 
Examjjles  are  not  our  warrant,  but  jirecepts. 
Neither  will  it  procure  a  man  a  discharge,  because 
he  had  a  precedent  in  his  sin.  Adam  indeed  said 
the  woman  gave  him  the  apple,  but  it  did  net 
excuse  him  from  paying  the  reckoning  with  .'er; 
she  was  indeetl  first  in  the  transgression,  yet  ooth 
met  in  the  punishment.  Wouldst  thou  eat  poison, 
because  another  dares  be  so  bold  to  be  thy  taster  * 
Surely  his  example  cannot  make  the  poison  less 
deadly  to  thee  that  dost  pledge  him. 

—  Uurnall,   1617-1679. 

(1526.)  Remember,  I  beseech  you,  that  your 
custom  is  the   aggravation    of  your   sins,   and  not 


CUSTOM. 


(    271     ) 


DEATH. 


any  just  excuse.  What,  if  you  had  taken  a  custom 
of  spitting  in  the  face  of  your  own  father  or  dearest 
friend,  or  any  way  abusing  him,  would  you  think  it 
good  excuse  for  you  to  continue  it,  because  you  are 
accustomed  to  it?  Why,  the  oftener  you  have 
sinned,  the  oftener  you  have  wronged  God  ;  and 
the  oftener  you  have  wronged  Him,  the  more  should 
you  now  bewail  it,  and  not  therefore  go  on  to  wrong 
Him  more.  If  you  had  oftentimes  hurt  yourselves 
by  falls,  or  cut  your  fingers  by  negligence  or  care- 
lessness, will  you  do  so  still  to  keep  a  custom  ? 
What  greater  madness  can  there  be  than  to  plead 
custom  for  sinning  against  the  living  God,  and 
hastening  your  own  souls  to  everlasting  perdition? 
You  shall  have  custom  for  suffering  then,  as  you 
have  for  sinning  now,  and  see  whether  you  will 
therefore  love  your  suffering.  If  you  will  love  sin 
because  you  are  accustomed  to  it,  you  shall  try 
whether  you  can  love  hell  because  you  are  accus- 
tomed to  it.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  Hardens  men  In  sin. 

(1527.)  Look  but  upon  a  youth  when  he  comes 
first  to  be  an  apprentice  to  some  artificer  or 
handicraft  trade  :  his  hand  is  tender,  and  no  sooner 
is  he  set  to  work  but  it  blisters,  so  that  he  is 
much  pained  thereby  ;  but  when  he  hath  continued 
some  time  at  work  then  his  hand  hardens,  and  he 
goes  on  without  any  grievance  at  all.  It  is  just 
thus  with  a  sinner :  before  he  be  accustomed  to 
any  evil  way,  conscience  is  tender  and  full  of  re- 
morse, like  a  queazy  stomach,  ready  to  keck  (vomit) 
at  the  least  thing  that  is  offensive  ;  oh,  but  a  con- 
tinued custom,  and  making  a  trade  of  sin,  that  is  it 
which  makes  the  conscience  to  be  hard  and  brawny, 
able  to  feel  nothing.  As  it  is  in  a  smith's  forge,  a 
dog  that  comes  newly  in  cannot  endure  the  fieiy 
sparks  to  fly  about  his  ears,  but  being  once  used  to 
it  he  sleeps  securely  :  so,  let  wicked  men  be  long 
used  to  the  devil's  workhouse,  to  be  slaves  and 
vassals  to  sin,  the  sparks  of  hell- fire  may  fly  about 
them,  and  the  fire  of  hell  flash  upon  their  souls,  yet 
never  trouble  them,  never  disturb  them  at  all  ;  and 
all  this  ariseth  from  a  continued  custom  in  a  course 
of  evil.  — Sedgzvood,  1644. 

6.  Its  blinding:  Influence. 

(1528.)  We  are  so  accustomed  to  see  sin  within 
and  without  us,  that  we  seldom  deeply  feel  it,  or 
are  so  shocked  at  it  as  we  should  be  were  it  less 
frequent.  If  an  inhabitant  of  the  Court  were  to 
walk  through  some  of  the  filthy  streets  and  alleys  of 
the  metropolis,  how  would  he  be  disgusted  and 
terrified,  while  the  poor  wretches  who  live  in  them 
think  nothing  of  the  matter  1 

— Cecil,  1 748- 1 8 10. 

(1529.)  Custom  will  often  blind  one  to  the  good 
as  well  as  to  the  evil  effects  of  any  long-established 
system.  — Whafely,  17S7-1863. 

7.  Its  power  grows  continually. 

(1530.)  Custom  is  a  violent  and  treacherous 
schoolmistress.  She,  by  little  and  little,  slyly  and 
unperceived,  slips  in  the  foot  of  her  authority,  but 
having  by  this  gentle  and  humble  beginning,  with 
the  benefit  of  time  fixed  and  established  it,  she 
then  unmasks  a  furious  and  tyrannic  countenance, 
against  which  Ave  li-^ve  no  more  the  courage  or  the 
power  so  much  as  to  lift  up  our  eyes. 

— Afontaisne. 


8.  Wrong  customs  sliould  therefore  be  broffen 
abruptly. 

(153 1.)  Be  not  too  slow  in  the  breaking  off  a 
sinful  custom.  A  quick  courageous  resolution  is 
better  than  a  gradual  deliberation.  In  such  a  com- 
bat he  is  the  bravest  soldier  that  lays  about  him 
without  fear  or  wit.  Wit  pleads  ;  fear  disheartens  ; 
he  that  would  kill  Hydra  had  better  strike  off  one 
neck  than  five  heads.  Fell  the  tree,  and  the 
branches  are  soon  cut  ofT. 

— Quarks,  1 592- 1 644, 

9.  Secret  of  the  power  of  social  customs. 

(1532.)  Of  all  tyrants  custom  is  that  which  to 
sustain  itself  stands  most  in  need  of  the  opinion 
which  is  entertained  of  its  power  ;  its  only  strength 
lies  in  that  which  is  attributed  to  it.  A  single 
attempt  to  break  the  yoke  soon  shows  us  ita-  fragil- 
ity. But  the  chief  property  of  custom  is  to  contract 
our  ideas,  like  our  movements,  within  the  circle  it 
has  traced  for  us  ;  it  governs  us  by  the  terror  it 
inspires  for  any  new  and  untried  condition.  It 
shows  us  the  walls  of  the  prison  within  which  we 
are  enclosed,  as  the  boundary  of  the  world  ;  beyond 
that  all  is  undeiined,  confusion,  chaos ;  it  almost 
seems  as  though  we  should  not  have  air  to  breathe 

—  Guizot. 

10.  Innocent  customs  should  be  complied  with. 

(1533.)  There  is  a  respect  due  to  mankind  which 
should  incline  even  the  wisest  of  men  to  follu.v 
innocent  customs.  — ll'atts,  1674-1748. 


DEATH. 

I.    IN  RELATION   TO  ALL   MANKIND. 

1.  Its  nature. 

(1534.)  As  we  have  but  imperfect  notions  of  the 
relations  and  differences  between  life  and  death, 
our  Saviour,  when  He  was  about  to  raise  a  maid  to 
life,  said  to  those  who  were  present.  The  damsel  is 
not  dead  hit  sleepeth.  He  did  not  say,  "She  is 
dead,  and  I  will  raise  her  to  life;"  but,  "She  is 
asleep  :  "  whence  it  was  to  be  inferred  that  she 
would  awake.  They  who  were  not  skilled  in  the 
Divine  language  of  signs  and  fi^iures  laughed  Him 
to  scorn,  as  if  He  had  spoken  in  ignorance  what 
was  expressed  with  consummate  truth  and  wisdcm  : 
for  the  substitution  oi sleep  for  death,  when  we  have 
it  upon  such  great  authority,  has  the  force  of  a 
whole  sermon  in  a  single  word,  and  is  a  seed  from 
whence  a  tree  of  life  may  be  unfolded. 

— Jones  of  Nayland. 

(1535.)  Death  is  but  the  line  at  which  the  little 
stream  of  life  merges  into  the  great  ocean  of  eternity. 
Death  is  but  a  turning  point  in  the  endless  path  of 
our  existence. 

1.  It  is  our  common  doom. 

(1536.)  As  many  as  came  of  the  first  man  must 
lay  down  their  necks.  Death  is  an  indifferent 
judge,  regardeth  no  person,  hath  no  pity  on  the 
fatherless,  careth  not  for  the  poor,  dispenseth  not 
with  the  rich,  feareth  not  the  mighty,  passeth  not 
for  the  noble,  honoureth  not  the  aged,  spareth  not 
the  wise,  pardoneth  not  the  foolish.  For  like  as  a 
river  is  poisoned  in  the  well-spring,  or  fountain,  so 
was  the  nature  of  man  altogether  in  our  first  parents. 
And    forasmuch  ^c  they   themselves  were  maimed 


DEA  TH. 


(    272     ) 


DEA  TH. 


ftrough  sin,  they  have  begotten  upright  and  mortal 
children.  Touching  this  saith  faul  :  "By  one 
man  came  death  upon  all  men." 

—  /  I'.-rmullerus,  1551. 

(^5.37')  The  heathen  usually  compared  the  sons 
of  Adam  to  counters,  the  game  at  chess,  and  stage 
plays,  because  that  counters  have  their  several 
places  and  use  for  a  time,  but  in  the  end  they  are 
jumbled  into  a  heap.  In  a  game  at  chess,  some  are 
kings,  some  bishops,  some  knights,  &c.,  but  after  a 
while,  they  all  go  into  the  same  bag.  On  the  stage, 
one  is  in  his  rags,  another  in  his  robes ;  one  is  the 
master,  another  is  the  man  ;  and  very  busy  they  be, 
but  in  the  end,  the  play  ends,  the  bravery  ends,  and 
each  returns  to  his  place.  Such  is  the  estate  of 
man.  The  man  lives  not  that  shall  not  see  death,  be 
he  king  with  Saul,  a  prophet  with  Jeremiah,  a  wise 
Solomon,  a  foolish  Nabal,  a  holy  Isaac,  a  profane 
Esau  :  be  he  of  what  rank  soever,  he  must  die — 
nay,  let  there  be  a  concurrence  of  all  in  one,  let 
Samuel,  both  a  good  man,  a  good  minister,  and  a  good 
magistrate,  have  as  many  privileges  as  are  incident 
to  a  man,  yet  can  he  not  procure  a  protection 
against  death.  — Harris,  1578-165S. 

3.  It  is  inevitable. 

(153S.)  God,  to  prevent  all  escape,  hath  sown 
the  seeds  of  death  in  our  very  constitution  and 
nature,  so  that  we  can  as  soon  run  from  our  selves, 
as  run  from  death.  We  need  no  feller  to  come 
with  a  hand  of  violence,  and  hew  us  down  ;  there 
is  in  the  tree  a  worm,  which  grows  out  of  its  own 
substance,  that  will  destroy  it  ;  so  in  us,  those 
infirmities  of  nature  that  will  bring  us  down  to  the 
dust.  — Giirnall,  161 7-1679. 

4.  It  is  a  tbeme  of  u'\iversal  Interest. 

(1539-)  The  truth  of  it  is,   there  is  nothing  in 

history  which  is  so  hnin-ovhig  to  the  reader  as  those 
accounts  which  we  meet  with  of  the  deaths  of 
eminent  persons  and  of  their  behaviour  in  that 
dreadful  season.  I  may  also  add  that  there  are  no 
parts  in  history  which  affect  and  please  the  reader 
in  so  sensible  a  manner.  The  reason  I  take  to  be 
this  :  there  is  no  other  single  circumstance  in  the 
story  of  any  person,  which  can  possibly  be  the  case 
of  every  one  who  reads  it.  A  battle  or  a  triumph 
are  conjunctures  in  \\  hicli  not  one  man  in  a  million 
is  likely  to  be  engaged  ;  but  when  we  see  a  person 
at  the  point  of  death,  we  cannot  forbear  being 
attentive  to  everything  he  says  or  does,  because  we 
are  sure  that  some  time  or  other  we  shall  ourselves 
be  in  the  same  melancholy  circumstances.  The 
general,  the  statesman,  or  the  philosopher,  are  per- 
haps characters  which  we  may  never  act  in,  but  the 
dying  man  is  one  whom,  sooner  or  later,  we  shall 
certainly  resemble.  — Addison,  1672-1719. 

5.  Its  nearness. 

(1540.)  There  is  not  far  from  youth  that  hidden 
certainty  of  death.  I  am  sjjeaking  to  some  that  I 
shall  never  speak  to  agaui.  \'ou  are  marked.  You 
are  going  away,  and  my  eye  shall  never  rest  on  you 
again.  There  are  some  of  you  within  a  handbreadth 
of  the  grave,  and  yet  it  doth  not  appear  who  it  is. 
If  I  were  to  say  that  some  sharpshooter,  hidden, 
would  launch  the  fated  bullet  into  the  midst  of  this 
assembly,  with  what  terror  would  the  whole  of  you 
rise?  and  yet  death  stands  witli  bow  drawn  back  to 
the  uttermost,  and  that  arrow  is  just  on  the  string 
that  will  sp  ?ed  to  some  r'^  you.  — Beecher. 


(154 1.)  We  put  far  away  the  evil  day  ;  and  there* 
fore  we  are  not  duly  impressed  by  the  thought. 
But  fourscore  years  are  soon  cut  off,  and  we  tlee 
away  ;  and  how  uncertain  is  our  reaching  that  lonely 
verge  of  life,  where  the  flowery  meadows  and  tlie 
golden  corn-fields  slope  gradually  down  into  the 
bare  and  stony  beach  that  fringes  the  eternal  sea. 
The  coast  of  death  to  most  is  an  abrupt  precipice  ; 
■ve  are  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  our  days. 

— Macmillav. 

(1542.)  In  a  noble  passage,  Isaiah  tell  us,  how 
all  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  goodliness  thereof  as 
the  flower  of  the  field.  And  does  not  every  week, 
each  passing  day,  and  fleeting  hour,  illustrate  that 
solemn  truth  ?  Death  lays  his  sharp  scythe  in 
among  the  grass  ;  and  to  his  stride  and  sweeping 
arm  it  falls  in  long,  broad  swathes.  I  have  seen 
the  reapers  in  the  harvest-field  sit  down  on  the 
fallen  sheaves  of  corn  to  wipe  the  sweat  from  their 
sun-browned  brows,  and,  pausing  from  work,  rest 
awhile  ;  but  who  ever  saw  this  grim  reaper  sitting 
on  the  tombstones  or  green  hillocks  of  the  grave, 
to  rest  himself  and  repair  his  strength  ?  Of  Death 
it  may  be  said,  as  of  God,  "  He  sleeps  not,  neither 
is  weary."  See  how  he  advances  on  us — every  day 
the  nearer,  as  before  an  eye  that  expresses  no  pity, 
and  an  arm  that  is  never  weary,  and  a  scythe  that 
never  blunts,  fall  the  tallest  grass  and  fairest  flowers  1 
"  All  flesh  is  grass  !  "  A  lew  years  more  and  these 
sparkling  eyes  shall  be  quenched  in  death  ;  a  shroud 
around  every  form  ;  on  every  lip  the  seal  of  dusty 
death  ;  and  all  of  us  lying  beneath  the  grassy  s^J, 
mouldering  in  the  grave — saved,  or  unsaved — the 
never-dying  soul  in  heaven,  or  in  hell. 

— Guthrie. 

6.  Its  period  Is  uncertain. 

(1543.)  The  whole  foliage  of  a  tree  does  not  fade 
and  pass  away  at  one  time.  Some  leaves  droop 
and  wither  even  in  spring,  when  the  rest  of  the 
foliage  is  in  its  brightest  and  most  luxuriant  beauty. 
Some  are  torn  away  in  summer,  while  green  and 
full  of  sap,  by  sudden  and  violent  storms.  The 
great  majority  fade  and  fall  in  autumn  ;  while  a  few 
cling  to  the  branches  all  through  the  cold  and 
desolation  of  winter,  and  are  at  last  pushed  off  by 
the  unfolding  buds  of  the  following  spring.  There 
is  no  tree,  however  green  and  healthy,  but  has  a 
withered  discoloured  leaf  upon  it,  ready  to  drop  on 
at  the  slightest  touch  of  the  breeze.  There  is  no 
group  of  flowers  so  perfect  but  one  or  more  is  faded. 
Watch  the  blossoming  of  one  of  those  plants  whose 
flowers  grow  in  spikes  or  racemes,  and  you  will 
find  that  the  lowest  blossoms  unfold  and  perish,  one 
by  one,  as  those  higher  up  the  stem  are  beginning 
to  expand  ;  so  that  on  the  same  stalk,  you  have 
opqning  buds,  perfect  flowers,  and  brown  and 
withered — a  mixed  state  of  things,  surely  deeply 
suggestive  to  every  thoughtful  mind.  Look  at  the 
foliage  of  a  tree  at  any  season,  and  you  will  not  fail 
to  find  the  same  thing — death — in  the  midst  of  life — 
sere  and  yellow  decay  streaking  the  bright  green- 
ness and  beauty  of  health.  And  is  it  not  so  with 
every  human  generation  ?  Decay  and  death  e\'ery- 
where,  and  always,  reign.  But  all  do  not  fade  at 
the  same  time.  Some  die  in  the  spring  of  life ; 
some  are  cut  off  suddenly,  by  accidents  and  fatal 
diseases,  in  ripe  manhood  ;  some  fade  naturally  in 
the  autumn  of  old  age.  A  few  survive  their  genera- 
tion, like  the  last  red  leaves  that  rustle  mournfully 
in  the  winter  wind  on  the  topmost  bough   of  ih' 


DEATH. 


(    273    ) 


DEA  TIL 


tree,  the  sole  relics  of  the  luxuriant  foliage  that 
basked  in  the  sunshine,  and  sang  in  the  breeze  of 
summer.  Melancholy  indeed  is  the  lot  of  these  aged 
patriots.  Their  tent  of  life  is  a  solitary  object  in  a 
dreary  and  lifeless  desert.  Pilgrims  and  strangers 
on  earth,  they  linger  alone  ;  whilst  all  those  vvlio 
began  the  journey  of  life  with  them  have  folded 
their  tents  and  gone  away,  and  Ichabod,  "  the  glory 
is  departed,"  is  written  upon  everything. 

— Macmlllan. 

1,  It  steals  upon  us  wltliout  warning. 

(1544.)  Death  carries  off  a  man  who  is  gathering 
flowers  and  whose  mind  is  distracted,  as  a  Hood 
carries  off  a  sleeping  village.  — Bmidka. 

(1545.)  Though  we  live  never  so  long,  we  are 
still  surprised  :  we  put  the  evil  day  far  from  us, 
and  thsm  it  catches  us  unawares,  and  wc  tremble  at 
the  pn  spect.  — Wake,  1657-1737. 

(1546.)  All  the  processes  of  nature  are  silent  and 
secret.  It  is  God's  glory  to  conceal  a  matter.  As 
He  veiled  His  wondrous  working  for  the  Israelites 
at  the  Red  Sea  with  the  cloud  of  night ;  and  the 
dawn  only  revealed  the  completed  miracle  :  so  in 
the  field  of  nature  He  reveals  to  us  not  processes, 
but  results.  Spring  steals  imperceptibly  upon  the 
earth,  and  we  are  startled,  like  men  that  dreamed, 
by  the  sudden  revelation  of  green  leaves  and  balmy 
skies  almost  amid  the  gloom  and  snow  of  winter. 
The  bud  expands  into  the  full-blown  rose,  but  the 
unfolding  is  done  in  secret ;  the  star  of  evening 
sparkles  like  a  tear  in  the  spot  where  the  sunset 
died,  but  no  one  marked  its  falling  from  the  dewy 
eye  of  heaven.  And  as  with  the  glory,  so  with  the 
decay,  of  nature.  We  know  the  passage  of  the 
seasons  only  by  their  changes.  The  precise  moment 
when  nature  has  reached  its  culminaling  point, 
and  must  descend  when  her  embroidered  web  has 
been  woven— and  must  be  unravelled — is  shrouded 
in  mystery.  No  boundary  line  separates  the  season 
of  life  from  the  season  of  death  ;  the  full  vigour 
and  perfection  of  summer  from  the  feebleness  and 
languor  of  autumn  ;  at  least,  none  that  can  be 
marked  by  the  ordinary  senses  of  man.  I'o-day 
tlie  forest  is  green  and  luxuriant  ;  to-morrow  it  is 
faded  and  desolate.  One  by  one  the  leaves  become 
discoloured  and  drop  off ;  but  we  cannot  trace  the 
insidious  progress  of  the  blight  from  its  commence- 
ment to  its  consummation,  and  the  first  notice  we 
have  of  the  change  is  the  hectic  hue  upon  their 
surface.  Some  of  them  fade  before  others,  but  we 
cannot  tell  why  ;  there  is  no  mark  to  point  them 
out,  and  when  all  the  foliage  is  waving  and  mur- 
muring in  the  summer  breeze,  we  cannot  indicate 
which  leaf  of  all  the  rich  green  crowd  will  be  the 
rirst  to  wear  the  impress  of  decay.  Thus  fades 
the  leaf,  and  so  silently  do  we  all  fade.  The  king 
of  terrors  comes  with  a  noiseless  step,  shod  with 
wool,  stealthily,  silently,  with  bated  breatli  ;  he  is 
not  seen,  he  is  not  heard,  he  is  not  suspected  ;  till 
all  at  once  his  cold  shadow  falls  upon  us,  and  his 
dark  form  stands  between  us  and  the  light  of  the 
living  world.  We  die  daily,  but  tlie  bark  still  con- 
tinues fresh  and  the  leaf  green  ;  and  we  know  not 
the  progress  of  the  hidden  mortality.  We  bear  the 
sea.!  of  death  ere  we  are  conscious  of  it  ;  and  we 
become  aware  of  our  doom  only  when  the  gradual 
secret  fading  of  the  bioom  on  the  cheek,  and  the 
brightness  in  the  eye,  and  the  vigour  in  the  frame, 


has  reached  its  final  palpable  stage.  No  awful 
handwriting  ajipears  on  the  wall,  telling  us  in  the 
midst  of  our  rejoicings,  as  it  told  Belsliazzar,  its 
"  Mene,  mene,  tekel,  upharsin  ;  "  no  solemn  mes- 
sage from  the  unseen  world  comes  to  us,  as  it  once 
came  to  Hezekiah  ;  "  Set  thine  house  in  order,  for 
thou  shalt  die  and  not  live."  Before  the  work  of 
death  begins,  we  know  not  which  of  our  friends 
and  acquaintances  will  pass  away  soonest.  It  may 
be  the  old  and  grey-haired,  who  have  nothing  left 
to  live  or  hope  for  in  the  world  ;  it  may  be  the  sick 
who  have  lingered  long  on  the  perilous  edge  of 
death,  and  whose  life  has  been  endurance  not  enjoy- 
ment ;  or  it  may  be  the  young  and  healthy,  to 
whom  death  is  a  far-off  cloud,  no  bigger  than  a 
man's  hand,  casting  no  shadow  on  their  sunny  hori- 
zon. It  may  be  the  fragrant  rose  or  the  thorny 
weed  ;  the  hiiitful  vine  or  the  barren  fig-tree,  the 
heavenly-minded  Christian  or  tlie  worldly-hearted 
professor.  Who  is  to  be  the  first  to  receive  the 
message  to  pass  hence  ?  We  know  not  ;  an  awful 
uncertainty  rests  upon  that.  — Macmillan, 

8.  We  die  daily. 

(1547.)  When  we  are  born  we  get  as  it  were  so 
much  life  given  us  :  we  get  a  reservoir  filled  with 
life ;  day  by  day  we  draw  so  much  from  it  ;  day  by 
day  we  use  up  so  much  of  it :  and  it  is  plain  enough 
that  the  more  we  draw  from  it,  the  less  is  left.  We 
know  how  much  we  liave  taken  from  that  recep- 
tacle, that  store  of  Hfe  ;  but  we  cannot  tell  how 
much  remains.  There  may  be  very  little  there  to 
our  account  :  we  may  have  got  very  near  the  end  of 
the  amount  we  had  to  start  with  ;  and  some  day, 
not  long  hence,  we  may  find  that  we  have  fairly 
reached  the  end  of  it  all.  But  is  it  not  plain  enough, 
that  our  dying  is  spread  over  all  the  time  through 
which  we  are  exhausting  the  springs  of  life  ?  We 
speak  of  it  as  a  futine  tiring  :  we  speak  of  dying  as 
if  it  were  all  concentrated  on  the  little  point,  wucn 
the  last  drop  of  life  shall  be  drained,  and  the  foun- 
tain fairly  sunk  to  the  ground  and  finished.  Why, 
look  to  any  piece  of  machinery  employed  by  man. 
The  very  first  day's  use  of  it  is  so  much  towards  its 
destruction.  It  is  the  daily  wear  that  wears  n  out. 
The  wearing  out  is  not  all  gathered  upon  tliat  clos- 
ing day,  when  at  last  you  find  it  is  past  working  or 
mending,  and  throw  it  finally  aside.  It  is  not  the 
last  day  the  locomotive  runs  that  wears  it  out  :  the 
very  first  on  which  it  darted  away  with  its  train  of 
human  beings  or  its  hundreds  of  tons  of  merchan- 
dise, did  just  as  much  towards  its  final  wearing  out 
as  the  last  on  which,  a  battered  weather-beaten 
thing,  it  ran  its  last  crazy  race.  Now,  our  bodies 
are  just  such  machines  ;  and  like  everything  that 
wears  out  at  all,  it  is  by  their  daily  work  they  wear 
out.  Every  exertion  we  take  out  of  them  leaves  so 
much  less  behind  ;  every  pulse  that  beats  in  them 
is  a  reason  against  the  next  pulse's  beating  ;  every 
breath  we  draw  makes  it  less  likely  that  we  shall 
draw  another  ;  and  thus,  by  the  daily  consumptioD 
of  our  life,  we  "die  daily."  — Boyd. 

9.  Its  terrors. 

(1548.)  In  death  itself  there  can  be  nothing 
terrible,  for  the  act  of  death  annihilates  sensation  : 
but  there  are  many  roads  to  death,  and  some  or 
them  justly  formidable,  even  to  the  bravest  ;  but 
so  various  are  the  modes  of  going  out  of  the  world, 
that  to  be  born  may  have  been  a  more  painful  thing 


DEA  TH. 


(    274    ) 


DEATH. 


than  to  die,  and  to  live  may  prove  a  more  trouble- 
some tiling  than  either.  — CoUon,  1832. 

(1549.)  Another  pang  which  belongs  to  death, 
we  find  in  the  sensation  of  loneliness  wliich  attaches 
to  it.  Have  we  ever  seen  a  ship  preparing  to  sail 
with  its  load  of  pauper  emigrants  to  a  distant 
colony  ?  If  we  have,  we  know  what  that  desola- 
tion is  which  comes  from  feeling  unfriended  on  a 
new  and  untried  excursion.  All  beyond  the  seas, 
to  the  ignorant  poor  man,  is  a  strange  land.  They 
are  going  away  from  the  helps,  and  the  friendships, 
and  the  companionships  of  life,  scarcely  knowing 
what  is  before  them.  And  it  is  in  such  a  moment, 
when  a  man  stands  upon  a  deck,  taking  his  last 
look  of  his  fatherland,  that  there  comes  upon  him  a 
sensation  new,  strange,  and  inexpressibly  miserable 
— the  feeling  of  being  alone  in  the  world. 

Brethren,  with  all  (he  bitterness  of  such  a 
moment,  it  is  but  a  feeble  image  when  placed  by 
the  side  of  the  loneliness  of  death.  We  die  alone. 
We  go  on  our  dark  mysterious  journey  for  the  first 
time  in  all  existence,  without  one  to  accompany  us. 
Friends  are  beside  our  bed,  they  must  stay  behind. 
Grant  that  a  Christian  has  something  like  familiarity 
with  the  Most  High,  ihat  breaks  this  solitary  feel- 
ing ;  but  what  is  it  with  the  mass  of  men  ?  It  is 
a  question  full  of  loneliness  to  them.  What  is  it 
they  are  to  see  ?  What  are  they  to  meet  ?  Is  it 
not  true,  that,  to  the  larger  number  of  this  con- 
gregation, there  is  no  one  point  in  all  eternity  on 
which  the  eye  can  fix  distinctly,  and  rest  gladly — 
nothing  beyond  the  grave,  except  a  dark  space 
into  which  they  must  plunge  ? 

—F.  IV.  Robertson^  1816-1853. 

10.  Its  influence. 

(1550.)  The  darkness  of  death  is  like  the  even- 
ing twilight  :  it-  makes  all  objects  appear  more 
lovely  to  the  dying.  — RiclUer. 

11.  ItB  disclosures  of  character. 

(1551.)  Every  man  and  woman  who  lives  by 
Christian  principle  (that  is,  by  faith),  who  sustains 
the  life  of  his  inmiortal  spirit  by  prayer,  and  sacra- 
ments, and  the  Woid  of  God,  and  resists  evil 
watchfully  and  steadfastly,  is  a  saint.  He  may 
have  his  infirmities,  his  backslidings,  his  periods 
-jf  lukewarmiiess,  his  failings  of  temper,  his  moral 
cowardice,  so  had  the  Scriptural  saints.  And  our 
close  commerce  with  him  in  life,  forcing  upon  us, 
as  it  does,  his  weakness  and  prejudices,  while  his 
communion  with  God,  transacted  in  the  depths  of 
his  own  spirit,  is  of  course  screened  from  us, 
hinders  for  the  present  our  fully  appreciating  him. 
We  see  very  clearly  that  he  is  "a  man  subject  to 
like  passions  as  we  are  ;  "  but  we  fail  to  see  that 
he  is  Elijah.  Perchance  we  shall  see  this  too  by 
and  by,  when  he  is  taken  from  us.  Sanctity  in  our 
friends  and  neighbours  is  like  a  star.  We  take  no 
notice  of  the  star  while  the  sun  is  pouring  his  rays 
over  the  firmament,  and  the  full  stir  of  life  is  around 
us.  But  let  the  night  draw  her  curtain  over  the 
sky,  and  the  star  in  all  its  beauty  steals  out  to  view. 
So  while  our  friends  are  mixed  up  with  us  in  the 
hurry  and  commerce  of  life,  we  seem  unable  to 
disentangle  from  their  infirmities  the  saintliness 
which  is  in  them.  But  they  die ;  and  something 
comes  to  light  about  their  inward  life  which 
hithertc   bad  escaped  eveiy  eye  but  God's,  and  we 


begin  to  discover  that  the  commonest  things  they 
did  were  governed  by  Christian  principle,  and  re- 
ferred to  God  in  prayer,  and  perhaps  that  we  have 
been  for  years  walking  side  by  side  with  angels 
unawares.  Death  has  now  thrown  his  pall  over 
them  ;  they  are  no  longer  in  the  hubbub  of  life,  or 
the  strife  of  tongues  ;  and  the  star  of  their  sanctity 
begins  to  twinkle  brightly  to  our  eyes. 

— Goulburn, 

(1552.)  Leaves  fade  differently.  The  autumnal 
foliage  is  very  varied.  It  is  this  rich  variety  that 
gives  a  witching  charm  to  the  calm  landscapes  of 
October,  and  makes  the  progress  of  the  month  like 
the  stately  march  of  an  Orient  army,  with  the 
splendour  of  blazing  banners  and  the  wealth  and 
jjageantry  of  oiden  story.  No  two  species  of  trees 
exliibit  the  same  appearance.  They  all  present 
a  uniform  greenness  in  the  summer  ;  but  decay 
brings  out  their  individual  character,  and  shows  us 
each  of  them  in  its  true  colours.  One  tree,  draped 
in  dull  and  sombre  foliage,  looks  like  a  funeral 
pall.  Its  leaves  are  covered  with  brown  unsightly 
blotches  ;  and  its  whole  aspect  is  melancholy  and 
dreary  in  the  extreme.  Another  tree  looks  as 
though  the  glories  of  the  sunset  had  been  distilled 
into  it.  Decked  with  glowing  hues  of  crimson,  and 
scarlet,  and  gold,  it  lights  up  the  forest  like  a 
pillar  of  fire.  It  is  a  picture  of  beauty,  far  more 
exquisite  than  any  it  presented  in  its  fresh,  green, 
summei'  prime.  The  eye  loves  to  dwell  upon  it  ; 
and  the  mind  forgets,  in  the  enjoyment  of  its 
loveliness,  that  the  gorgeous  display  is  but  th« 
prelude  of  death,  the  last  brilliant  flash  of  the 
candle  in  its  socket  ere  it  goes  out  in  utter  darkness. 
And  are  there  not  similar  differences  in  the  way  in 
which  men  fade  and  die?  In  the  hey-day  of  life  and 
happiness  they  may  seem  all  alike,  uniformly  fair 
and  attractive,  but  when  death  comes,  it  shows  the 
true  character  of  each.  Its  approach  makes  some 
men  gloomy  and  sombre.  It  invests  them  with  a 
dark  and  repulsive  aspect.  It  clothes  them  with 
despair.  It  discovers  and  displays  to  them,  in  its 
red,  all-revealing  light,  the  errors  and  follies  of 
their  life  in  all  their  hard  reality,  without  one 
softening  shadow.  There  is  nothing  to  save  them 
from  the  sting  witli  which  it  is  armed  by  sin.  They 
are  under  the  law,  and  under  the  curse.  The 
righteousness  of  Christ  is  not  theirs  to  justify  them  ; 
His  Spirit  is  not  theirs  to  sanctify  them.  They 
have  no  title  to  heaven  and  meetness  for  it.  Oh, 
there  is  nothing  bright  and  attractive,  nothing 
hopeful  and  desirable,  in  the  dying  of  the  impeni- 
tent and  unsaved  sinner  !  AH  is  dark  and  despair- 
ing— a  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery 
indignation  It  is  iike  the  sun  on  a  stormy  even- 
ing, going  down  in  gloomy  thunder  clouds,  leaving 
no  ray  of  ligiu  behind.  It  is  like  a  green  tree 
changing  in  autumn  into  the  most  sombre  and 
repulsive  aspect  of  decay.  But  how  widely  different 
is  the  dying  of  the  Christian  !  Precious  in  the 
sight  of  tire  Lord  is  the  death  of  His  saints  ;  precious 
and  also  beautiful.  It  is  to  them  the  most  blessed 
of  experiences.  They  are  never  so  well  situated  to 
glorify  God  as  in  their  dying  hours.  Then  they 
can  display  the  tenderness  of  Fiis  care,  the  truth  of 
His  promises,  the  supports  of  His  everlasting  love, 
as  they  can  in  no  other  circumstances.  While  the 
eye  of  the  body  is  closing  to  the  beauties  of  earth, 
the  eye  of  the  soul  is  opening  to  the  glories  that 
are  to  be  revealed  in  them ;  while  their  hold  of  all 


DEA  TH. 


(    2?S     ) 


DEA  TH. 


that  life  holds  dear  is  relaxing,  they  cling  with  a 
firmer  grasp  of  faith,  and  a  closer  embrace  of  love, 
to  the  things  that  are  unseen  and  eternal  in  the 
heavens  ;  while  the  outward  man  perishes,  the 
inward  man  is  renewed  more  and  more.  The  day 
of  their  death  is  indeed  better  than  the  day  of  their 
birth,  for,  rich  with  all  their  treasures  of  spiritual 
knowledge  and  experience — the  growtli  and  ac- 
cumulation of  a  whole  lifetime  of  discipline — they 
conve  to  their  last  hour  like  the  mellow  fruit  that 
gathers  into  itself  all  the  life  of  the  tree,  and  all  the 
dew  and  sunshine  of  summer,  and  at  last  bends 
aai  breaks  the  branch  from  which  it  hangs. 

— Matinillan. 

12.  Men  die  as  they  live. 

(1553.)  Leaves  fade  characteristically.  The  foli- 
age that  is  gloomiest  in  its  unfolding  is  most  un- 
sightly in  its  decay  ;  and  llie  leaves  that  have  the 
richest  and  tenderest  shade  of  green  in  April  have 
the  most  brilliant  rainbow  hues  in  October.  The 
leaf  of  the  sad  and  sullen  ash  is  the  last  to  kindle 
its  bud,  and  the  first  to  wither  and  fall ;  and  its 
colour,  always  sombre,  becomes  blackened  and 
disfigured  in  decay.  The  leaf  of  the  linden  tree, 
on  the  contrary,  is  beautiful  from  first  to  last, 
softly  green  in  spring,  fragrant  in  summer  with 
delicate  frankincense,  and  musical  with  the  hum 
of  bees  revelling  in  the  honey-dew  bloom  ;  and 
gorgeous  as  a  sunset  cloud  in  autumn.  And  so  is 
it  with  man.  He  dies  as  he  lives.  A  life  of  godli- 
ness ends  in  a  saintly  deatli  ;  and  a  career  of  world- 
liness  and  sin  terminates  in  ini]5enitence  and  despair. 
The  law  of  life  is,  that  the  fruit  shall  be  as  the  seed, 
and  the  end  as  the  beginning  :  unless,  indeed,  the 
higher  law  of  Divme  Mercy  interposes  on  a  timely 
repentance.  — Macmillati, 

13.  How  easily  the  fear  of  it  is  overmastered. 
(1554)  There  is  no  [lassion  in  the  mind  of  man 

BO  weak  but  it  mates  and  masters  the  fear  of  death. 

— Bacon. 

(•555-)  Of  all  the  instances  that  can  be  given  of 
recklessness  of  life,  there  is  none  that  comes  near 
that  of  the  workmen  employed  in  what  is  called 
dry-pointing;  the  grinding  of  needles  and  of  table 
forks.  The  fine  steel-dust  wiiich  they  breathe 
brings  on  a  painful  disease  of  which  they  are 
almost  sure  to  die  before  forty. 

And  yet  not  only  are  men  tempted  by  high  wages 
to  engage  in  this  employment,  but  they  resist  to  the 
utmost  all  the  contrivances  devised  for  diminisjiing 
the  danger  ;  through  fear  that  this  would  cause  moje 
workmen  to  ofler  themselves,  and  thus  lower 
wages ! 

The  case  of  sailors,  soldiers,  miners,  and  others 
who  engage  in  hazardous  employments,  is  notliing  in 
tomparison  of' this ^;  because  jseople  of  a  sanguine 
temper  hope  to  escape  the  dangers.  But  the  dry- 
pointers  have  to  encounter,  not  the  risk,  but  the 
certainty,  of  an  early  and  painful  death.  The  thing 
would  seem  incredible,  if  it  were  not  so  fully  attested. 
All  this  proves  tliat  avarice  overcomes  the  fear  of 
death.  And  so  may  vanity  :  witness  the  many 
women  who  wear  light  dresses,  and  will  even 
employ  washes  for  the  complexion  which  they  know 
to  be  highly  dangerous  and  even  destructive  to  their 
health.  — VVhately,  1777-1863. 

(1556.)    The   dread   of  death  is  univp'-sai    and 


instinctive  ;  and  yet  how  many  rush  into  its  arms  ! 
Suicide  is  a  most  impressive  fact  in  this  connection. 
The  disappointed  lover,  the  discouraged  adventurer, 
the  suspected  clerk,  the  child  wounded  in  its  self- 
love,  or  fearful  of  punishment,  faces  the  great  enemy 
and  invites  his  blow.  Every  now  and  then  the 
community  is  shocked  by  suicides  so  unprovoked, 
and  so  frequent  as  almost  to  persuade  us  that  the 
natural  fear  of  death  is  passing  away.  The  incon- 
sistency is  easily  explained.  Tord  Bacon  says  there 
is  no  passion  that  will  not  overmaster  the  terror  of 
death.  For  passion  is  thoughtless  ;  occupied  wholly 
with  an  immediate  suffering,  it  makes  no  estimate 
of  any  other  kind  of  pain  ;  absorbed  in  an  instanta- 
neous sorrow,  it  takes  no  other  sorrow  into  account. 
The  mind  entertains  but  one  passion  at  a  time, 
whether  it  be  joy  or  fear.  But  men  are  not  always  or 
generally  under  the  influence  of  passion.  Ordinary 
life  is  calm,  calculating,  considerate,  and  it  is  to 
ordinary  life  that  death  is  terrible.  It  is  the 
thought  of  death  that  is  terrible,  not  death.  Death 
is  gentle,  peaceful,  painless  ;  instead  of  bringing 
suffering  it  brings  an  end  of  suffering.  It  is  misery's 
cure.  Where  death  is,  agony  is  not.  The  processes 
of  death  are  all  friendly.  The  near  aspect  of  death 
is  gracious.  There  is  a  picture  somewhat  of  a 
frightful  face,  livid  and  ghastly,  which  the  beholder 
gazes  on  with  horror,  and  would  turn  away  from, 
but  for  a  hideous  fascination  that  not  only  rivets  his 
attention,  but  draws  liim  closer  to  it.  On  approach- 
ing the  picture  the  hideousness  disappears,  and 
when  directly  confronted  with  it  is  not  any  mora 
seen  ;  the  face  is  the  face  of  an  angel.  It  is  a  pic- 
ture of  death,  and  the  object  of  the  artist  was  to 
impress  the  idea  that  the  terror  of  death  is  an 
apprehension.  Theodore  Parker,  whos?  observa- 
tion of  death  was  very  large,  has  said  that  he  never 
saw  a  person  of  any  belief,  condition,  or  experience, 
unwilling  to  die  when  the  time  came  ;  aiid  my  own 
more  limited  observation  confirms  the  truth  of  the 
remark.  Death  is  an  ordinance  of  nature,  and  lilce 
every  ordinance  of  nature  is  directed  by  beneficent 
laws  to  beneficent  ends.  What  must  be  is  made 
welcome.     Necessity  is  beautiful. 

— OB.  Frothingham. 

14.  Is  seldom  realised. 

(1557.)  There  is  a  difference  between  knowing  a 
thing  and  realising  it.  When  a  poor  man  l)econies 
suddenly  the  possessor  of  a  fortune  or  of  dignity,  it 
is  some  time  beiore  the  thing  becomes  so  natural  to 
him  that  he  can  act  in  his  new  sphere  like  his  pro- 
per self;  it  is  all  strangeness  at  first.  When  the 
criminal  hears  the  death-sentence  'u  the  dock,  his 
cheeks  are  tearless.  He  hears  the  words,  but 
scarcely  understands  that  they  have  anything  to  do 
with  him.  He  has  not  realised  that  it  is  he  himselt 
that  has  to  die.  When  bereavement  comes,  it  is 
not  at  the  moment  when  the  breath  leaves  the 
body  that  we  feel  what  has  been  lost :  we  know, 
but  yet  we  must  have  it  in  detail  :  see  the  empty 
chair,  and  the  clothes  that  will  never  be  worn  again, 
and  perceive  d.ay  after  day  pass,  and  he  comes  not ; 
then  we  realise. 

Job  knew  tliat  God  was  the  vindicator  of  wrongs  ; 
that  he  said.  But  why  did  he  go  on  repeating  in 
every  possible  form  the  same  thing  :  "  I  shall  see 
God,  see  Him  for  myself,  mine  eyes  shall  behold 
Him  ;  yes,  mine  and  not  another's "  ?  It  would 
seem  as  if  he  were  doing  what  a  man  does  when  he 
repeats  over  and  over  to  himself  a  thing  which  he 


DEATH. 


(    276    ) 


DEA  TH. 


cannot  picture  out  in  its  reality.     It  was  true  :  but 
it  was  strange,  and  shadowy,  and  unfamiliar. 

It  is  no  matter  of  uncertainty  to  any  one  of  us 
whether  he  himself  shall  die.  He  knows  it.  Every 
time  the  funeral  bell  tolls,  the  thought  in  some 
shape  suggests  itself.  I  am  a  mortal,  dying  man. 
That  is  knowing  it.  Which  of  us  has  realised  it? 
Who  can  shut  his  eyes,  and  bring  it  before  him  as 
a  reality,  that  the  day  will  come  when  the  hearse 
will  stand  at  the  door  for  him,  and  that  all  this 
bright  world  will  be  going  on  without  him  ;  and 
tliat  the  very  flesh  which  now  walks  about  so  com- 
placently, will  have  the  coffin-lid  shut  down  upon 
it,  and  be  left  to  darkness,  and  loneliness,  and 
silence,  and  the  worm  ? 

— Robertson,  1816-1S53. 

15.  Is  usually  disregarded. 

(1558.)  Living  in  a  country  village  where  a  burial 
was  a  rarity,  1  never  thought  of  death,  it  was  so 
seldom  presented  to  me.  Coming  to  London, 
where  there  is  plenty  of  funerals  (so  that  coffins 
cro\\d  one  another,  and  corpses  in  the  grave  jostle 
for  elbow-room),  I  slight  and  neglect  death,  because 
grown  an  object  so  constant  and  common. 

How  foul  is  my  stomach  to  turn  all  food  into 
bad  humours.  Funerals  neither  few  nor  frequent 
work  effectually  upon  me.  London  is  a  library  of 
nwrtality.  Volumes  of  all  sorts  and  sizes  ;  rich, 
poor,  infants,  children,  youth,  men,  old  men,  daily 
die.  I  see  there  is  more  required  to  make  a  good 
scholar  than  only  the  havingof  many  books.  Lord, 
be  Thou  my  schoolmaster,  and  "  teach  me  to  number 
my  days,  that  I  may  apply  my  heart  unto  wisdom." 
— Fuller,  1 609- 1 66 1. 

(1559.)  Meditations  of  death  are  usually  very  un- 
profitable. It  is  with  most  men  as  it  is  with  a 
flock  of  sheep,  which  graze  till  the  shepherd  rushes 
in  amongst  them,  and  lays  hold  of  one  of  them  for 
the  slaughter,  and  this  presently  frightens  them, 
making  them  leave  their  food  and  run  scattering 
about  the  fields  ;  but  no  sooner  is  the  terror  over, 
but  they  flock  together  again,  and  feed  as  securely 
without  thought  of  death  or  danger  as  before,  until 
the  slaughterer  again  selects  his  prey.  So  truly  is 
it  with  most  men,  when  'death  suddenly  lays  his 
hand  upon  some  friend  or  relative,  and  arrests  him 
amidst  the  crowd  of  thoughtless  mortals.  Some 
extraordinary  circumstance  in  the  death  of  others 
will  turn  their  attention  from  their  usual  occupations, 
and  call  up  frightful  images  of  the  grave  and  eter- 
nity. But  these  thoughts  soon  wear  off,  and  they 
return  to  the  same  round  of  worldly  vanity  and 
wretched  security  as  before,  until  the  thunders  of 
the  Almighty  are  again  heard,  and  death,  this 
appalling  monster,  is  again  seen  in  pursuit,  and 
hurrying  his  victim  to  the  slaughter,  when  the  same 
scene  is  acted  over  again — they  tremble — the  dead 
is  interred,  and  the  grave  filled  up,  anil  the  irrevo- 
cable sentence  is  forgotten — ""lis  appointed  unto 
all  men  once  to  die,"  &c.,  until  the  pit  of  destruc- 
tion again  yawns  and  swallows  them  up. 

—Salter. 

16.  We  should  remember  that  we  are  to  die. 

(1560.)  Two  ships  meeting  on  the  sea,  the  men 
In  either  ship  iVAnk  themselves  standing  still,  and 
the  other  to  be  swift  of  sail,  whereas  they  both  sail 
onwards  towards  the  port  intended,  but  the  one 
faster  than  the  other.     Even  so  men  are  as  ships. 


See  we  an  old  man,  with  a  staff  in  his  hand,  stoop- 
ing downward  :  "  Alas  !  poor  old  man,"  say  we, 
"he  caniiOt  live  long."  Hear  we  a  passing  bell 
toll,  there  is  one  going  out  of  the  world.  Visit  wt 
a  sick  friend,  we  think  he  can  hardly  live  till  morn- 
ing. Thus,  we  think  all  other  men  are  a-dying, 
and  we  only  standing  at  rest ;  whereas,  God  knows 
it,  they  may  go  a  little  before,  and  we  are  sure  to 
follow  after.  John  outruns  Peter  to  the  sepulchre, 
but  Peter  is  not  far  behind  him.  Let  every  man, 
then,  be  thus  persuaded  of  himself,  that  he  shall 
and  must  die.  None  can  be  so  sottish  as  to  be 
persuaded  that  they  shall  never  die,  yet  (which  is  a 
sad  thing)  there  is  none  so  old  but  thinks  he  may 
live  one  year  longer  ;  and  though,  in  the  general, 
he  say,  "  All  must  die,"  yet,  in  the  false  number- 
ing of  his  own  particular  days,  he  thinks  to  live  for 
ever.  — Rogers,  1 594-1660. 

17.  Reminders  of  death. 

(156 1.)  Every  ache  and  pain,  every  wrinkle  you 
see  stamping  itself  on  a  parent's  brow,  every  acci- 
dent which  reveals  the  uncertain  tenure  of  life  and 
possessions,  every  funeral  bell  that  tolls,  are  only 
God's  reminders  that  we  are  tenants  at  will  and  not 
by  right  ;  pensioners  on  the  bounty  of  an  hour.  He 
is  closing  up  the  right  of  way,  warning  fairly  that 
what  we  have  is  lent,  not  given  ;  His,  not  our*. 
His  mercies  are  so  much  gain. 

— Robei-tson,  1816-1853. 

18.  Should  be  prepared  for. 

(1562.)  This  preparation  ought  no  man  to  defer 
till  another  time,  though  he  be  never  so  whole  and 
sound  ;  but  every  one  forthwitli  and  daily  to  begin 
to  make  himself  for  death,  to  the  intent  that  at  ail 
hours  he  may  be  found  ready.  Like  as  a  valiant 
soldier,  when  he  must  be  up  and  fight  with  the 
enemies,  oversleeps  not  himself,  but  keepeth  his 
standing,  and  hath  his  weapons  and  harness  already 
upon  him,  so  much  more  ought  we  Christians  at  all 
times  to  wait  upon  our  heavenly  Captain,  when  He 
bloweth  the  trump,  that  vve  may  be  ready  to  pass 
forth  with  Him.  "Let  your  loins  be  girded  about 
and  your  lights  burning,  and  ye  yourselves  like  unto 
men  that  wait  for  their  master,  when  he  will  return 
from  the  wedding  ;  that  as  soon  as  he  cometh  and 
knocketh,  they  may  open  unto  him  immediately. 
Hajipy  are  those  servants,  whom  the  Lord,  when 
He  cometh  shall  find  waiting."  With  this 
similitude  doth  Christ  exhort  every  man,  that  at 
all  times  we  prpnnre  ourself  against  His  coming 
— when  He  knocketh  through  sickness  and  other 
dangers,  when  He  calleth  us  out  of  this  life  ;  and 
when  He  shall  come  again  out  of  His  heavenly 
palace  to  judge  the  living  and  the  dead. 

—  IVeriitullents,  155'- 

'  (1563.)  Death  is  half  disarmed  when  the  pleasures 
and  interests  of  the  flesh  are  first  denied  ;  for  the 
leaving  of  fleshly  contents  ami  pleasures  is  much  of 
the  reason  of  men's  unwillingness  to  die  ;  and  there- 
fore when  these  are  denied  beforehand  the  reasons 
of  your  unwilfingness  are  taken  away.  If  you  pull 
down  the  nest,  the  birds  will  be  gone.  Men  that 
are  loath  to  leave  their  country  would  willingly  be 
gone  if  their  houses  were  fired,  or  they  were  turned 
out  of  doors  and  their  friends  and  goods  were  all 
sent  away.  This  is  it  that  makes  men  so  unwill- 
ing to  die,  because  they  practise  not  mortification 
in  their  health,  but,  contrarily,  make  it  the  work  of 


DEA  TH. 


(     277     ) 


DEATH. 


their  lives  to  feather  their  nests,  and  make  provision 
for  tlie  fiesh,  and  then  complain  that  they  are  loath 
to  leave  those  nests  !  Men  load  themselves  with 
the  lumber  and  baggage  of  the  world,  and  then 
complain  that  they  cannot  travel  on  their  journey, 
but  had  rather  sit  down.  They  fall  a-building 
them  habitations  in  their  way,  when  they  should 
have  none  but  inns  or  tents  ;  and  when  they  have 
bestowed  all  their  time,  and  cost,  and  charges  on 
them,  they  complain  of  their  hearts  for  being  loath 
to  leave  them.  Such  mad  doings  as  these  are  not 
ths  way  to  be  willing  to  die. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1564.)  Why  should  a  man  defer  that  which  ought 
to  be  the  occupation  of  a  life,  which  ought  to  com- 
mand all  his  powers  in  all  their  vigour?  why  should 
a  man  defer  that  to  the  last  few  abrupt  moments 
to  his  departure  from  time  to  eternity  ?  When  a 
man  is  going  to  any  distant  part  of  the  globe — say 
to  America — what  preparation  there  is  !  How 
much  it  is  talked  about  I  It  is  a  long,  a  distant,  an 
eventful  journey.  The  man  talks  about  it ;  his 
family  talk  about  it  ;  his  friends  prepare  in  every 
conceivable  way.  Oh,  what  infatuation,  what 
stupidity,  what  folly  it  is  for  a  man  to  make  no 
preparation  for  this  distant  voyage — the  voyage  to 
eternity  1  — Beaumont. 

(1565.)  Were  any  other  event  of  far  superior 
moment  ascertained  by  evidence  which  made  but  a 
distant  approach  to  that  which  attests  the  certainty 
of  a  life  to  come, — had  we  equal  assurance  that 
after  a  very  limited  though  uncertain  period  we 
should  be  called  to  migrate  into  a  distant  land 
whence  we  were  never  to  return, — the  intelligence 
would  fill  every  breast  with  solicitude  ;  it  would 
become  the  theme  of  every  tongue ;  and  we  should 
avail  ourselves  with  the  utmost  eagerness  of  all  the 
means  of  information  respecting  the  prospects  which 
awaited  us  in  that  unknown  country.  Much  of  our 
attention  would  be  occupied  in  preparing  for  our 
departure ;  we  should  cease  to  regard  the  place  we 
now  inhabit  as  our  home,  and  nothing  would  be 
considered  of  moment  but  as  it  bore  upon  our 
future  destination.  How  strange  is  it  then  that, 
with  the  certainty  we  all  possess  of  shortly  entering 
into  another  world,  we  avert  our  eyes  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  prospect  ;  that  we  leldom  permit 
it  to  penetrate  us ;  and  that  the  moment  the  recol- 
lection recurs  we  hasten  to  dismiss  it  as  an  unwel- 
come intrusion  1  Is  it  not  surprising  that  the 
volume  we  profess  to  recognise  as  the  record  of 
immortality,  and  the  sole  depository  of  whatever 
information  it  is  possible  to  obtain  respecting  the 
portion  which  awaits  us,  should  be  consigned  to 
neglect,  and  rarely  if  ever  consulted  with  the  serious 
intention  of  ascertaining  our  future  condition  ? 

— Robert  Hall,  1 764- 1 83 1 . 

(1566.)  It  is  when  considered  as  the  passage  to 
another  world  that  the  contemplation  of  death 
becomes  holy  and  religious  ;  that  it  is  calculated 
to  promote  a  state  of  preparedness  for  our  setting 
out  on  this  great  voyage, — our  departure  from  this 
world  to  enter  the  other.  It  is  manifest  that  those 
who  are  engrossed  with  the  things  that  pertain  to 
this  life  alone,  who  are  devoted  to  worldly  pleasure, 
to  worldly  gain,  honour,  or  power,  are  certainly 
not  preparing  themselves  for  the  passage  into 
another ;    while   it   is    equally   manifest    that   the 


change  of  heart,  of  desires,  wishes,  tastes,  thoughts^ 
dispositions,  which  constitute  a  meetness  for  en- 
trance into  a  happy,  holy,  heavenly  state, — the 
hope  of  which  can  indeed  "  mate  and  master  the 
fear  of  death, " — must  take  place  here  on  earth  ;  for, 
if  not,  it  will  not  take  place  after  death. 

—  Wkauly,  1 787-1 863. 


II.    IN  RELA  TION  TO  THE  IMPENITENT, 

1.  To  them  it  is  unwelcome. 

(1567.)  Who  can  without  horror  think  of  leaving 
this  world,  though  full  of  sorrows,  that  hopes  for 
no  ease  in  the  other  ?  The  condemned  malefactor, 
as  ill  as  he  likes  his  smoky  hole  in  the  prison,  had 
rather  be  there  than  accept  of  deliverance  at  the 
hangman's  hand  ;  he  had  rather  live  still  in  his 
stinking  dungeon  than  exchange  it  for  a  gibbet. 
And  greater  reason  hath  the  hopeless  soul  (if  he 
understand  himself)  to  wish  he  may  spend  Ins 
eternity  on  earth,  though  in  the  poorest  hole  or 
cave  in  it,  and  that  under  the  most  exquisite  tor- 
ment of  stone  or  gout,  than  to  be  eased  of  that 
pain  with  hell's  torment. 

— Gurnallf  161 7-1679. 

{1568.)  When  once  the  Christian  hath  got  hi; 
piece  of  armour  on,  his  soul  is  prepared  for  death 
and  danger  ;  he  sits  at  the  feast,  which  God  in  His 
present  providence  allows  him,  and  fears  no  mes- 
senger with  ill  news  to  knock  at  his  door  ;  yea,  he 
can  talk  of  his  dying  hour  and  not  spoil  the  mirth 
of  his  present  condition  ;  as  carnal  men  think  it 
does,  to  whom  a  discourse  of  dying  in  the  midst  ol 
their  junkets  is  like  the  coming  in  of  the  officer  to 
attack  a  company  of  thieves  that  are  making  merry 
together  with  their  stolen  goods  about  them  ;  or  like 
the  vvet  cloth  that  liazael  clapped  on  the  king,  his 
master's  face.  It  makes  all  the  joy  which  flushed  out 
before  squat  in  on  a  sudden,  that  the  poor  creatures 
sit  dispirited  and  all  amort  (as  we  say)  till  they  get 
out  of  this  affrighting  subject  by  some  divertise- 
ment  or  other  ;  which  only  relieves  them  for  the 
present,  and  puts  them  out  of  that  particular  fit  this 
brought  upon  them,  but  leaves  them  deeper  in 
slavery  to  such  amazement  of  heart,  whenever  the 
same  ghost  shall  appear  for  the  future.  Whereas 
the  Christian,  that  hath  this  preparation  of  heart, 
never  tastes  more  sweetness  in  the  enjoyments  ol 
this  life,  than  when  he  dips  these  morsels  in  the 
meditation  of  death  and  eternity.  It  is  no  more 
grief  to  his  heart  to  think  of  the  removal  of  these, 
which  makes  way  for  those  far  sweeter  enjoyments, 
than  it  would  be  to  one  at  a  feast,  to  have  the  first 
course  taken  off,  when  he  hath  fed  well  on  it,  that 
the  second  course  of  all  rare  sweetmeats  and  ban- 
queting stuff  may  come  on,  which  it  cannot  till  the 
other  be  gone.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

2.  To  them  it  is  rula. 

(1569.)    God    is    under  an    oath   to   procure  thy 

destruction,  if  thou  diest  in  this  mind,  which  God 
forbid.  Death  is  the  trap-door  which  will  let  thee 
down  to  hell's  dungeon,  and  when  once  thou  art 
there,  thou  art  where  thou  wilt  have  space  enough 
to  weep  over  thy  past  folly  ;  though  here  thou  hast 
neither  time  nor  leisure  to  make  God  thy  friend. 
— Gurnall,  1617-1679^ 


DEA  TH. 


(    378    ) 


DEA  TH. 


III.  IN  RELATION  TO  THE  PEOPLE  OF 
COD. 
1.  Even  tlie  good  recoil  from  it. 
(1570.)  One  remarked  to  me  the  other  day  that 
very  few  of  the  people  who  magnify  the  joys  and 
glories  of  heaven  have  any  desire  to  depart  thither 
— preferring,  for  the  greater  part,  to  stay  here  as 
long  as  possible.  The  remark  is  doubtless  true  ; 
but  the  suggestion  of  inconsistency  implied  in  it  is 
not  a  fair  one.  People  love  to  think,  talk,  and 
sing  of  heaven.  The  Apocalypse  is  a  favourite 
book.  Its  openings  of  the  heavenly  life  are  exceed- 
ing sweet.  But  still  we  say,  with  Cliarles  Lamb  : 
"  I  would  set  up  my  tabernacle  here.  ...  A  new 
state  of  being  staggers  me."  When  good  Chris- 
tians are  cast  down  into  bad  sicknesses,  and  are 
brought  to  the  brink  of  the  world,  they  do  not 
commonly  exult  overmuch,  nor  strelch  forth  eager 
hands;  but  cling  to  life,  and  struggle  to  regain  a 
sure  footing  on  these  shores  of  time.  In  some  cases 
there  is  a  very  ardent  and  constant  desire  to  go  to 
heaven.  I'ut  with  the  overwhelming  majority  of 
Christians  it  is  not  so.  What  is  the  signilicance  of 
this  fact?  Are  they  who  thus  shrink  back  from 
entering  upon  the  "  life  to  come  "  necessarily  less 
spiritual  than  they  who  would  gladly  welcome  at 
any  time  the  summons  to  go  home?  Probably 
not.  Some  cultivated  person,  who  has  long  dreamed 
of  journeying  in  foreign  lands,  is  suddenly  pressed 
with  the  opportunity  of  realising  his  dream.  As 
he  wakes  to  meet  the  opportunity,  there  throng  in 
upon  him  doubts,  anxieties,  and  most  unaccountable 
shrinkings.  A  strange  aversion  to  going  arises 
within  him.  The  ocean  voyage  !  The  separation 
from  beloved  ones  !  The  strangeness  of  the  yonder 
countries  !  The  forebodings  of  a  timid  nature  ! 
How  many  things  combine  to  make  it  necessary 
that  his  friends  shall  fairly  push  him  oft  and  set  him 
adrift ! 

A  great  many  people  pass  through  just  this 
experience,  and  it  may  be  somewhat  thus  with 
multitudes  about  going  to  heaven.  Doubtless 
everything  will  be  delightful  over  there,  and  one 
will  find  most  of  his  solicitudes  imaginary,  and  all 
his  apprehensions  as  unreal  as  vague  ;  and  yet  he 
holds  back  as  long  as  possible. 

In  order  to  get  to  heaven  one  must  die.  Between 
you  and  Europe  rolls  the  dreadful  ocean.  Some 
make  nothing  of  crossing  it  ;  others  cannot  pluck 
up  heart  to  encounter  it.  Between  the  Christian 
pilgrim  and  tl:e  Land  of  Promise  "Jordan  rolls 
between."  The  natural  fear  of  death  is  much  more 
lively  in  some  persons  than  in  others.  They  are 
by  no  means  the  saintlier  who  have  little  of  that 
fear.  Tlie  inimical  nature  of  death  is  felt  through 
eveiy  fibre  of  our  irame.  There  is  a  curse  mixing 
with  it.  There  is  a  sin  ever  standing  behind  it,  in 
its  gloom.  It  is  idle  to  condemn  the  constitutional 
and  often  quite  unconquerable  apprehension  with 
which  men  encounter  it,  and  which  is  commonly 
strong  enough  to  account  for  the  absence  of  a  ruling 
desire  to  leave  this  world  for  one  which  is  surely 
believed  to  be,  in  all  respects,  infinitely  better. 

This  instinctive  recoiling  from  death  is  not  weak 
or  ignoble,  except  as  it  becomes  uncontrollable. 
Courage  does  not  consist  in  having  no  fear,  but  in 
triumphing  over  fear.  Our  Lord  experienced  this 
fear  of  death,  and  it  is  abundantly  proven  that  the 
hnest  and  noblest  man  is  not  he  who  meets  death 
unconcern  ed'y.  -Ji.  t'    I'ai  ker. 


2.  Yet  by  them  it  is  to  be  desired  rather  tliaa 
feared. 

(1571.)  It  becometh  all  Christians  not  only  to 
sufler,  but  also  to  commend  and  praise,  the  will  of 
the  heavenly  Lord  and  King.  Now  is  it  His  will 
that  we  die.  For  if  the  sparrows,  whereof  two  are 
bought  for  a  farthing,  fall  not  on  the  ground  with- 
out God  the  Father,  much  less  we  men,  whom  God 
Himself  esleemeth  to  be  of  more  value  than  many 
sparrows,  yea,  for  whose  sakes  other  things  were 
created,  do  fall  to  the  ground  through  death  with- 
out the  will  of  God.  The  soldier  tarrieth  in  the 
place  wherein  he  is  appointed  of  the  chief  captain 
to  fight  against  the  enemies,  and  if  he  call  him 
from  thence,  he  willingly  obeyeth  ;  even  so  hath  the 
heavenly  Captain  set  us  upon  earth,  where  we  have 
to  fight,  not  with  flesh  and  blood,  but  with  wicked 
spirits.  Therefore  if  He  give  us  leave,  and  call  us 
from  hence,  we  ought  by  reason  to  obey  Him. 
Like  as  one  should  not  withdraw  himself  from  pay- 
ing what  he  oweth,  but  gently  to  restore  the  money; 
so  hath  God  lent  us  this  life,  and  not  promised  that 
we  may  alway  enjoy  it.  Therefore  is  death  de- 
scribed to  be  the  payment  of  natural  debt. 

—  VVerfiiulUruSf  155' 

(1572.)  If  a  poor  man  should  be  commanded  by 
a  prince  to  put  off  his  torn  and  beggarly  garmer.ts, 
and,  instead  thereof,  to  put  on  royal  and  costly 
robes,  it  would  be  a  great  rejoicing  in  his  heart  : 
even  so  much  more  joyful  news  must  this  be  unto 
all  repentant  sinners,  when  the  King  of  heaven  and 
earth  comes  unto  them  by  death,  and  bids  them 
lay  down  their  bodies  as  ragged  and  patched  gai- 
ments,  and  prepare  themselves  to  put  on  the 
princely  robe  of  immortality.  No  tongue  can  be 
able  to  express  the  excellency  of  this  most  blessed 
estate.  — Caioaray,  1609. 

(1573-)  The  Christian  fears  not  death;  for  he 
knows  that  it  will  be  his  happiest  day,  and  his 
bridge  from  woe  to  glory.  Though  it  be  the 
wicked  man's  shipwreck,  it  is  the  good  man's  put- 
ting into  harbour  ;  where,  striking  sails  and  casting 
anchor,  he  returns  his  lading  with  advantage  to  the 
owner  ;  that  is,  his  soul  to  God  ;  leaving  the  hulk 
still  moored  in  the  haven  ;  which  is  unrigged,  but 
only  to  be  new  built  again,  and  fitted  for  an  eternal 
voyage.  •  — FelUhaut,  1668. 

(1574.)  Ah,  foolish  soul  !  doth  every  prisoner 
groan  for  freedom,  and  every  slave  desire  his  jubilee, 
and  every  sick  man  long  for  health,  and  every  hungry 
man  for  food  :  and  dost  thou  alone  abhor  deliver- 
ance ?  Doth  the  seaman  long  to  see  the  land  ?  Doth 
the  husbandman  desire  the  harvest,  and  the  labour- 
ing man  to  receive  his  pay?  Doth  the  traveller 
long  to  be  at  home,  and  the  runner  long  to  win 
the  prize,  and  the  soldier  long  to  win  the  field? 
And  art  thou  loath  to  see  thy  labours  finished,  and 
to  receive  the  end  of  thy  faith  and  sufi'erings,  and 
to  obtain  the  thing  for  which  thou  livest? 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1575.)  When  the  hen  hath  sat  to  hatch  heryonijj 
ones,  they  must  leave  the  shell  as  good  for  nothing, 
and  must  come  into  a  world  which  they  never  saw 
before.  And  what  of  that  ?  Should  they  murmur 
at  the  breaking  of  their  former  habitation  ?  or 
fear  the  passage  into  so  light,  so  ■=»'ide,  so  strange  a 
place,  in  comparison  of  that  in  which  they  were  in 
befoic  ?     No  more  should  we  murmur  at  the  break- 


DEA  TH. 


c  279  ; 


DEATH. 


Uig  of  these  bodies  and  casting  the  shell  of  flesh, 
and  passing  under  the  conduct  of  angels,  into  the 
presence  of  the  Lord.  God  is  but  hatching  us  here 
by  His  Spirit,  that  He  may  bring  us  out  into  the 
light  of  glory.  — Baxinr,  i6i$-i6gi. 

(1576.)  Doth  not  the  seed  thou  sowest  die  before 
it  springs?  and  what  cause  have  we  to  be  tender  to 
this  body?  Oh,  what  care,  what  labour,  what  grief 
and  sorrow  hath  it  cost  us  ;  how  many  a  weary, 
painful,  tedious  hour  !  O  my  soul,  grudge  not  that 
God  should  disburden  thee  of  all  this  !  Fear 
not,  lest  He  should  free  thee  from  thy  fetters  :  be 
not  so  loath  that  He  should  break  down  thy  prison, 
and  let  thee  go.  What  though  some  terrible  earth- 
quake go  bofore?  it  is  but  that  the  foundations  of 
the  prison  may  be  shaken,  and  so  the  doors  fly  open  ; 
the  terror  will  be  to  thy  jailer,  but  to  thee  deliver- 
ance. Oh,  therefore,  at  what  hour  of  the  night 
soever  thy  Lord  come,  let  Him  find  thee,  though 
with  thy  feet  in  these  stocks,  yet  singing  praises  to 
Him,  and  not  fearing  the  time  of  thy  deliverance. 
If  unclothing  be  the  thing  thou  fearest,  why  it  is 
that  thou  mayest  have  better  clothing  put  on.  If 
to  be  turned  out  of  doors  be  the  thing  thou  fearest, 
why  remember,  then,  when  this  eartlily  house  of 
thy  tabernacle  is  dissolved,  thou  hast  "a  building  of 
God,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens."  How  willingly  do  our  soldiers  burn  their 
huts  when  the  siege  is  ended,  being  glad  their  work 
is  done,  that  they  may  go  home  and  dwell  in  houses. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1577.)  The  reflection  that  we  must  ere  long  take 
a  final  farewell  of  what  is  most  capable  of  pleasing 
us  upon  earth,  is  not  only  tolerable,  but  pleasant. 
For  we  know  we  cannot  fully  possess  our  best 
friend,  our  chief  treasure,  till  we  have  done  with 
all  below  ;  nay,  we  cannot  till  then  properly  see 
each  other.  We  are  cased  up  in  vehicles  of  clay, 
and  converse  together  as  if  we  were  in  different 
coaches,  with  the  blinds  close  drawn  round.  We 
see  the  carriage,  and  the  voice  tells  us  that  we 
have  a  friend  within  ;  but  we  shall  know  each 
other  better  when  death  shall  open  the  coach 
doors,  and  hand  out  the  company  successively,  and 
lead  them  into  the  glorious  apartments  which  the 
lx)rd  iias  appointed  to  be  the  common  residence 
of  them  that  love  Him.  What  an  assembly  will 
there  be  !  What  a  constellation  of  glory,  when 
each  individual  shall  shine  like  the  sun  in  the 
kingdom  of  their  Father  !  No  sins,  sorrows,  temp- 
tations ;  no  veils,  clouds,  or  prejudices  shall  in- 
terrupt us  then.  All  names  of  idle  distinction 
(the  fruits  of  present  remaining  darkness,  the 
channels  of  bigotry,  and  the  stumblingblock  of 
the  world)  will  be  at  an  end. 

— Newton,  1 721-1807. 

(1578.)  Ah  !  brethren,  we  are  not  Christians 
about  dying.  We  are  taught  that  we  go  to  heaven 
tiirough  the  prison  of  death.  Everybody  feels  that 
to  sicken  and  die  is  to  go  into  Egypt  and  into  the 
wilderness.  We  are  apt  to  think  of  sickness  and 
dying  as  so  many  horrible,  gloomy  stages  in  our 
progress  towards  the  future.  But  dying  is  a  pro- 
cess as  simple  as  the  parting  of  the  stem  from  the 
bough,  or  as  the  swinging  of  the  door  that  lets  one 
in  from  the  wintry  blast  outside  to  the  pleasant 
home  inside.  It  is  not  hard  to  die.  It  is  harder  a 
thousand  times  to  live.     To  die  is  to  be  a  man. 


To  live  is  only  to  try  to  be  one.  To  live  is  to  se« 
God  through  a  glass  darkly.  To  die  is  to  see  Him 
face  to  face.  To  live  is  to  be  in  the  ore.  To  die  is 
to  be  smelted  and  come  out  pure  gold.  To  live  is 
to  be  in  March  and  November.  To  die  is  to  find 
midsummer.  Where  there  is  perfect  harmony  and 
perfect  beauty.  — Beccher. 

3.  Notwithstanding  that  even  to  them  the  houi 
of  death  is  frequently  a  season  of  sore  tempta- 
tion. 

(1579.)  If  one  that  is  about  to  shoot  a  gun  be 
unsteady  at  the  letting  of  it  go,  he  misseth  alto- 
gether, and  all  that  he  prepared  for  it  before  is  in 
vain  ;  even  so,  at  the  end  of  this  life,  are  devils 
most  busy  to  turn  us  from  the  right  mark,  that  our 
former  travail  and  labour  may  be  lost,  forasmuch 
as  they  know  that  there  remaineth  but  a  very  small 
time  of  life  ;  so  that  if  the  soul  escape  them  now, 
they  shall  afterward  go  without  it  for  evermore. 

Even  as  mighty  enemies  do  besiege  and  lay  assault 
to  a  city,  so  the  devils  compass  the  soul  of  man 
with  violence  and  subtlety,  to  take  possession  of  the 
poor  soul  and  bring  it  to  hell.  When  we  are  yet 
in  prosperity,  the  devils  would  have  us  to  make  but 
a  small  matter  of  it,  as  though  we  were  in  no  danger 
to  God-ward,  albeit  we  blaspheme,  be  drunken,  &c. 
But  in  the  dnnger  of  death  they  bring  forth  those 
wicked  sins  in  most  terrible  wise,  putting  us  in 
mind  of  the  wrath  of  God  —  how  He  in  times 
past  here  and  there  did  punish  and  destroy  wicked 
doers — to  the  intent  that  our  souls  might  be  hindered 
from  repentance  and  faith,  and  never  perceive 
any  way  to  be  delivered  ;  and  by  reason  thcreol 
wholly  to  despair,  and  to  become  the  devil's  portion. 
—  WermitlUrus,  1 55 1 . 

(15S0.)  We  think  of  an  aged  Christian  as  of  one 
seated  on  the  bank  of  Jordan,  enjoying  the  calm 
evening  of  a  busy,  holy,  useful  life — looking  back 
on  the  past  without  any  other  regret  than  what 
springs  from  the  recollection  of  his  sins,  and  looking 
forward  on  the  future  without  the  shadow  of  a  fear ; 
as  a  servant  with  his  task  done,  waiting  to  receive 
his  wages,  and  the  welcome  summons  tiiat  calls  idm 
home.  We  fancy  him  by  the  eye  of  faith  ]jiercing 
the  mists  that  hang  over  death's  dark  flood  ;  and  as 
he  descries  the  shining  ones  on  the  other  shore, 
stretching  out  his  aged  arn^s,  and  crying,  as  he  longs 
to  be  gone  and  be  with  them,  Oh  that  I  had  the 
wings  of  a  dove,  that  1  might  fly  away  and  be  at 
rest. 

Our  fancy's  picture  may  be  beautiful.  It  is  more 
beautiful  than  true ;  such  cases  are  rare.  The 
Christian  commonly  dies  in  harness,  in  the  battle- 
field, in  the  thick  of  the  battle,  fighting  on  to  the  last 
gasp.  The  death-bed  of  the  saint  has  been  indeed 
the  scene  of  his  hardest  work,  his  deepest  grief,  his 
bitterest  tears,  and  the  most  terrible  assaults  of  the 
evil  one.  "  .Stern  all  "  is  the  cry  when  the  monster 
of  the  deep  begins  his  dying  struggles  ;  and  then 
every  man  bends  to  his  oar,  pulling  out  of  the  sweep 
of  that  tremendous  tail  which,  as  she  pours  out  her 
heart's  blood,  beats  the  billows  and  churns  them 
into  crimsoned  foam.  Not  less  formidable  some- 
times are  the  last,  the  dying  struggles  of  sin.  What 
says  our  Lord?  "The  kingdom  of  heaven  suflers 
violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force  ;  "  and  it 
happens  there  as  with  a  beleaguered  city  at  tlie 
storming— the  hardest  fighting  is  in  the  breach  ; 
the  battle  rages  fiercest  just  before  it  ceases,  and 


DEA  TH. 


(     280    ) 


DEA  TH. 


with  a  few  more  strokes,  the  city  is  entered,  and  the 
orize  is  won.  — Guthrie. 

4.  Unwillingness  to  die  Is  an  evidence  of  defec- 
tive faith  and  love. 

(15S1.)  Is  it  possible  that  we  can  truly  believe 
that  death  will  remove  us  from  misery  to  such  glory, 
and  yet  be  loath  to  die?  If  it  were  the  doubts  of 
oar  interest  which  made  us  afraid,  yet  a  true  belief 
of  the  certainty  and  excellency  of  this  rest  would 
make  us  restless  till  our  interest  be  cleared.  If  a 
man  that  is  desperately  sick  to-day,  did  believe  he 
should  arise  sound  the  next  morning ;  or  a  man  to- 
day, in  despicable  poverty,  had  assurance  that  he 
should  to-morrow  arise  a  prince  ;  would  they  be 
afraid  to  go  to  bed,  or  rather  think  it  the  longest 
day  of  their  lives,  till  that  desired  night  and  morn- 
ing came  ?  The  truth  is,  though  there  is  much  faith 
and  Chi  istianity  in  our  mouths,  yet  there  is  much 
in.idekty  and  paganism  in  our  hearts  which  is  the 
main  cause  that  we  are  so  loath  to  die. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(15S2.)  As  the  weakness  of  our  faith,  so  also  the 
coklness  of  our  love,  is  exceedingly  discovered  by 
our  unwillingness  to  die.  Love  doth  desire  the 
nearest  conjunction,  the  fullest  fruition,  and  closest 
communion.  Where  these  desires  are  absent,  there 
is  only  a  naked  pretence  of  love.  He  that  ever  felt 
such  a  thing  as  love  working  in  his  breast,  hath  also 
felt  these  desires  attending  it.  If  we  love  our  friend, 
we  love  his  company  ;  his  presence  is  comfortable, 
his  absence  is  troublesome.  When  he  goes  from 
us,  we  desire  his  return  ;  when  he  comes  to  us,  we 
entertain  him  with  welcome  and  gladness  ;  when  he 
dies,  we  mourn,  and  usually  overmourn.  To  be 
separated  from  a  faithful  friend,  is  to  us  as  the  rend- 
ing of  a  member  from  our  bodies;  and  would  not 
our  desires  after  God  be  such,  if  we  really  loved 
Him?  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1583.)  Is  it  not  a  far  likelier  sign  of  hatred  than 
of  love,  when  the  thoughts  of  our  appearing  before 
God  are  our  most  grievous  ihdughts?  and  when  we 
take  ourselves  as  undone  because  we  must  die  and 
come  unto  Him?  Surely,  I  should  scarcely  take 
him  for  an  unfeigned  friend,  who  were  as  well 
contented  to  be  absent  from  me,  as  we  ordinarily 
are  to  be  absent  from  God.  Was  it  such  a  joy  to 
Jacob  to  see  the  face  of  Joseph  in  Egypt,  and  shall 
we  so  dread  the  sight  of  Christ  in  glory,  and  yet 
say  we  love  Him?  I  dare  not  conclude  that  we 
have  no  love  at  all  when  we  are  so  loath  to  die  ;  but 
I  daresay,  were  our  love  more,  we  should  die  more 
willingly.  Yea,  I  daresay,  did  we  love  God  but  as 
strongly  as  a  worldling  loves  his  wealth,  or  as  an 
ambitious  man  his  honour,  or  a  voluptuous  man 
his  pleasure,  yea,  as  a  drunkard  loves  his  swinish 
delight,  or  an  unclean  person  his  brutish  lust ;  we 
should  not  then  be  so  exceeding  loath  to  leave  the 
world,  and  go  to  God.  Oh  !  if  this  holy  flame  of 
love  were  thoroughly  kindled  in  our  breasts,  instead 
of  our  pressing  fears,  our  dolorous  complaints,  and 
earnest  prayers  against  death,  we  should  join  in 
David's  wilderness  lamentations: — "As  the  hart 
panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul 
after  Thee,  O  God  :  my  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for 
the  living  God  ;  when  shall  I  come  and  appear 
before  God?"  — Baxtei;  1615-1691. 

5.  How  the  fear  of  it  is  to  be  overcome. 
(1584,)  Like  as  he  that  is  to  pass  ovt  some  great 


and  deep  river  must  not  look  downward  to  th« 
stream  of  the  water,  but  if  he  would  prevent  feai 
he  must  set  his  foot  sure  and  cast  his  eye  to  the 
bank  on  the  further  side:  even  so  he  that  draws 
near  death  must,  as  it  were,  look  over  the  waves  ot 
death,  and  directly  fix  the  eye  of  his  faith  upon 
eternal  life.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(1585.)  Familiarise  the  thoughts  of  the  evil  day 
to  thy  soul  ;  handle  this  serpent  often,  walk  daily 
in  the  serious  meditations  of  it,  do  not  run  from 
them  because  they  are  unpleasing  to  flesh,  that  is 
the  way  to  increase  the  terror  of  it.  Do  with  your 
souls,  when  shy  of,  and  scared  with  the  thoughts  of 
aflliction  or  death,  as  you  use  to  do  with  your  beast 
that  is  given  to  boggle  and  start  as  you  ride  on 
him;  when  he  flies  back  and  starts  at  a  thing,  you 
do  not  yield  to  his  fear  and  go  back,  that  will  make 
him  worse  another  time,  but  you  ride  him  up  close 
to  that  which  he  is  afraid  of,  and  in  time  you  break 
him  of  that  quality.  The  evil  day  is  not  such  a 
fearful  thing  to  thee  that  art  a  Christian,  as  thou 
shouldst  start  for  it.  Bring  up  thy  heart  close  to 
it,  show  thy  soul  what  Christ  hath  don^  to  take  the 
sting  out  of  it ;  what  the  sweet  promises  are  that  are 
given  on  purpose  to  overcome  the  fear  of  it,  and 
what  thy  hopes  are  thou  shalt  get  by  it.  These 
will  satisfy  and  compose  thy  spirit,  whereas  the 
shunning  the  thoughts  of  it  will  but  increase  thy 
fear,  and  bring  thee  more  into  bondage  to  it. 

—  Gurnall,   1617-1679. 

(1586.)  "When  you  are  afraid  of  death  or  would 
find  more  willingness  to  die,  look  up  to  the  blessed 
souls  with  Christ,  and  think  that  you  are  but  tc 
pass  that  way,  which  all  those  souls  have  gone 
befrire  you,  and  to  go  from  a  world  of  enmity  and 
vanity,  to  the  company  of  all  those  blessed  spirits." 
And  is  not  their  blessed  state  more  desirable  than 
such  a  vain,  vexatious  life  as  this?  There  is  no 
malice,  nor  slandering,  nor  cruel  persecuting  ;  no 
uncharitable  censures,  contentions,  or  divisions  ;  no 
ignorance,  nor  unbelief,  nor  strangeness  unto  God  , 
nothing  but  what  is  holy,  amiable,  and  delightful. 
Join  yorirselves  daily  to  that  celestial  society:  sup- 
pose yourselves  spectators  of  their  order,  purity,  and 
glory,  and  auditors  of  their  harmonious  praises  of 
Jehovah.  Live  by  faith  in  a  daily  familiarity  with 
them  ;  say  not  that  you  want  company  or  are 
alone,  when  you  may  walk  in  the  streets  of  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  there  converse  with  the 
prophets  and  apostles,  and  all  the  glorious  hosts  of 
heaven.  Converse  thus  with  them  in  your  life, 
and  it  will  overcome  the  fear  of  death,  and  make 
you  long  to  be  there  with  them  :  like  one  that 
stands  by  the  river  side,  and  seeth  his  friends  on  the 
further  side,  in  a  place  of  pleasure,  while  his 
enemies  are  pursuing  him  at  his  back,  how  gladly 
would  he  be  over  with  them  !  And  it  will  em- 
bolden him  to  venture  on  the  passage,  which  all 
they  have  safely  passed  before  him.  Thus  death 
will  be  to  us  as  the  Red  Sea,  to  pass  us  safe  to  the 
land  of  promise,  while  our  pursuers  are  there  over- 
thrown and  perish.  We  should  not  be  so  strange 
to  the  world  above,  if  we  thus  by  faith  conversed 
with  the  blessed  ones.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1587.)  I.  When  tear  cometh  from  natural  averse- 
ness  to  die,  and  strangeness  to  the  state  of  separated 
souls,  and  to  some  unrevealed  things  of  the  unseen 
world,  it  is  wisdom  to  cast  those  dark  and  unknown 


DEATH. 


(    281     ) 


DEATH. 


frightful  things  quite  out  of  our  thoughts,  and 
quietly  to  shut  our  eyes  against  them.  When  I  was 
young,  I  was  wont  to  go  up  the  Wrekin  Hill  with 
great  pleasure  (being  near  my  dwelling),  and  to 
look  down  on  the  country  below  me,  and  see  the 
villages  as  little  things  ;  but  when  I  was  v/eak  with 
age  and  sickness,  the  last  time  I  went  up,  if  I  did 
but  cast  my  eye  downwards,  m}'  spirits  failed,  and  I 
was  ready  to  fall  down  in  sudden  death.  Were  I 
chained  fast  to  the  top  of  a  high  spire  steeple,  I  am 
sure  that  I  could  not  fall,  and  yet  I  am  confident 
that  one  look  down  would  suddenly  kill  me.  What 
then  should  I  do  ?  As  on  tlie  hill  I  fixed  my  eyes 
on  the  earth  at  my  feet  till  I  came  down  ;  so  I 
would  in  such  a  height  either  look  only  upwards, 
or  shut  my  eves,  and  take  heed  of  looking  down  to 
•he  earth  :  so  do  here.  If  faith  and  reason  tell  you 
that  death  is  not  to  be  so  feared,  and  that  all  your 
hope  and  comfort  must  be  beyond  it,  and  that  you 
are  safe  in  God's  promise,  and  in  the  hand  of 
Christ ;  but  yet  the  thouglits  of  a  grave  and  the 
separation  from  the  body,  and  of  all  that  is  unknown 
to  us  in  the  next  world,  is  frightful  to  you,  shut  your 
eyes,  and  think  not  on  those  things ;  wink,  and 
say,  they  belong  not  to  my  thoughts. 

But  then  join  the  other  remedies.  (2.)  Look 
upwards,  and  dwell  on  the  delightful  thoughts  of 
all  that  revealed  joy  and  glory,  which  is  ready  to 
receive  us,  and  of  the  company  that  is  there,  that 
hope  and  desire  may  conquer  fear. 

(3.)  And  especially  trust  Jesus  Christ  with  your 
departing  souls,  and  trust  Him  quietly  and  boldly. 
— Baxter,  161 5-1 69 1. 

(158S.)  Let  us  live  like  those  who  expect  to  die, 
and  then  we  shall  find  that  we  feared  death  only  be- 
cause we  were  unacquainted  with  it. 

—  Wake,  1 65 7- 1 75 7. 

(1589.)  If  you  think  of  death  as  a  slave,  looking 
upon  it  as  going  into  servitude  under  a  hard  master, 
then  it  may  weaken  you,  and  take  av/ay  the  comfort 
that  you  have  ;  but  if  you  think  of  it,  as  every  child 
of  God  has  a  right  to  think  of  it,  as  going  to  your 
Father's  house,  where  a  rich  banquet  is  prepared 
for  you,  and  where  you  shall  enjoy  the  companion- 
ship of  saints  and  angels,  it  will  be  a  source  of  com- 
fort and  strength  to  you.  We  can  afford  to  take 
trouble  here  for  the  sake  of  gaining  such  an  inheri- 
tance. What  would  I  care  for  being  poor,  if  I  knew 
that  at  the  end  of  one  year  I  should  have  ten  millions 
of  dollars  ?  Men  would  toil  hard,  and  unremittingly, 
and  without  complaint,  if  they  could  be  assured  that 
the  boundary  of  their  toil  was  within  their  computa- 
tion, and  that  all  beyond  was  to  be  enjoyment  and 
the  amplest  wealth.  Men  do  endure  everything  in 
the  hope  of  securing  wealth  and  enjoyment.  How 
will  they  pursue  laborious  industry  in  the  chilling 
regions  of  the  North,  or  how  will  they  plunge  into 
the  heat  of  the  tropics,  encountering  sickness,  and 
the  malaria  of  every  delta  that  has  commerce  in  it, 
in  the  hope  that  they  may  return  to  their  father's 
house,  or  the  village  or  neighbourhood  of  their  birth, 
and  spend  the  few  closing  days  of  their  life  in  pleasure 
and  comfort.  And  if  such  is  the  strength  of  the 
hope  of  a  short  ptriod  of  earthly  peace  and  rest, 
how  much  greater  must  be  the  strength  of  that  man's 
hope  who  expects,  after  a  few  years  (he  cares  nut 
how  few,  so  that  Cod  s  will  be  done)  he  shall  rise 
out  of  this  world  of  trouble,  and  care,  and  vicissi- 
tudes, into  the  land  of  glory, — God's  land  of  freedom, 
of  nubility,  of  purity,  of  truth?  — Beecher. 


6.  The  secret  of  peace  in  death. 

(1590.)  Of  the  great  number  to  whom  it  has  been 
my  painful  professional  duty  to  have  administered 
in  the  last  hour  of  their  lives,  I  have  sometimes  felt 
surprised  that  so  few  have  appeared  reluctant  to  go 
to  "the  undiscovered  country,  from  whose  bourn 
no  traveller  returns."  Many,  we  may  easily  sup- 
pose, have  manifested  this  willingness  to  die  from 
an  impatience  of  suffering,  or  from  that  passive 
indih'erence  which  is  sometimes  the  result  of  debility 
and  bodily  exhaustion.  But  I  have  seen  those  who 
have  arrived  at  a  fearless  contem]ilation  of  the  future, 
from  faith  in  the  doctrine  which  our  religion  teaches. 
Such  men  were  not  only  calm  and  supported,  but 
cheerful,  in  the  hour  of  death  ;  and  I  never  quitted 
such  a  sick-chamber  without  a  hope  that  my  last 
end  might  be  like  theirs.      — Sir  Henry  Ilaljord. 

(1591.)  "Can  I  do  anything  for  you?"  said  an 
officer  m  one  of  our  gory  battles  in  America,  during 
that  awful  conflict,  to  one  of  the  lads  in  blue,  whose 
life  was  trickling  away  upon  the  green  sward. 
"Nothing,"  said  the  dying  soldier,  "nothing!" 
•'Shall  I  get  you  a  little  water?"  "No,  thank 
you,  I  am  dying."  "  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do?" 
said  the  officer  ;  "  shall  I  write  a  letter  to  your 
friends?"  "  No,  I  have  no  friends  that  you  can  write 
to.  But  there  is  one  thing  I  should  be  much 
obliged  to  you  for.  In  my  knapsack  you  will  find 
a  Testament ;  open  it  at  the  14th  chapter  of  St. 
John,  and  near  the  end  you  will  find  a  passage  that 
begins  with  the  word  'Peace;*  please  read  it." 
The  officer  took  up  the  blood-stained  haversack, 
took  out  the  Testament,  and  turned  to  that  chapter 
that  your  pastor  and  myself  have  read  so  often,  or 
held  up  so  often  as  a  lamp  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  the  matchless  14th  chapter  of 
John  ;  and  he  read  :  "  Peace  I  leave  with  you  ;  My 
peace  I  give  unto  you.  Not  as  the  world  givcth, 
give  I  unto  you.  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled, 
neither  let  it  be  afraid."  "Thank  you,  sir,"  said 
the  dying  man;  "I  have  got  that  peace;  I  am 
going  to  that  Saviour."  And  winging  its  way  from 
the  poor  bleeding  body,  the  spirit  ascended  ;  and, 
as  Noah  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  dove,  the 
infinite  Love  grasped  him  and  drew  him  in.  For 
him  to  die  was  Christ ;  for  him  to  die  was  gain — 
gain  everlasting  !  — Ctiyler. 

(1592.)  A  hope  that  is  built  on  acceptance  of  the 
truth,  on  degrees  of  knowledge  and  obedience,  on 
sincerity  of  purpose  or  eftbrt,  and  not  on  the  merit 
and  intercessions  of  a  personal  Redeemer,  is,  and 
must  be,  a  timid  and  inconstant  feeling.  There  is 
a  reason  why  ignorant  Christians  are  always  hopeful. 
It  is  not  because  they  have  less  knowledge,  but 
because,  having  less,  their  faith  is  less  diverted  from 
its  proper  and  sublime  object.  They  literally  know 
nothing  but  "Jesus,  and  Him  crucified;"  and  on 
Him  liiey  rely  with  an  unquestioning  faith.  He 
is  their  all-in-all  :  He,  and  He  alone,  is  their  hope 
of  glory.  And  what  a  hope  theirs  is  !  I  have  seen 
such  die.  They  were  poor,  unlettered,  destitute  of 
ideas  ;  they  had  had  no  traffic  in  the  great  commerce 
of  the  world's  thought ;  it  were  easy  for  wit  to  mock 
them,  and  for  culture  to  pity  their  ignorance  :  but 
they  died  as  the  sun  comes  out  of  an  eclipse,  their 
natures  revealing  great  glory  as  they  moved  from 
behind  l>ie  shadow  of  their  mortality.  No  crying 
out,  no  shiinking  back  as  fiom  an  untried  fate,  no 
knitting  up  of  courage  a-s  for  a  mighty  effort,  no 


DEATH. 


(     282    ) 


DEATH. 


grasping  of  mortal  hands  as  if  for  help,  no  swift  and 
unxious  dialogue  with  the  onlooking  pastor,  no 
doubt  and  trembling  when  they  came  to  die  ;  but 
with  hands  folded  for  rest,  with  eyes  uplifted  to 
heaven  and  full  of  joy,  with  countenances  lighted 
as  is  the  face  when  it  answereth  to  the  face  of  a 
friend,  with  a  sigh  like  the  last  long  breath  of 
weariness  passing  into  sleep,  they  gently  breathed 
their  lives  out  in  the  arms  of  Jesus.  He  was  no 
myth  to  them.  They  saw  Ilim,  not  through  form 
and  ceremony,  through  type  and  symbol,  through 
theologic  treatise  and  veibal  memorising  of  the 
catechism  :  they  saw  Him  as  the  patient  sees  the 
physician  ;  as  the  lamb  sees  the  Eastern  shepherd 
when  it  lies  in  the  folds  of  his  vestment  ;  they  saw 
Him  as  the  uplifted  eye  of  love  sees  the  face  of 
answering  love  above  it  ;  and,  seeing  this,  doubt 
being  unknown  in  the  perfection  of  their  faith,  fear 
being  cast  out  by  the  perfectness.  of  their  love,  they 
closed  their  eyes  as  flowers  cloie  at  the  setting  of 
the  sun,  and  gently  "fell  on  sleep."    — Murray. 

(1593.)  On  his  way  to  Sweden,  the  celebrated 
Grotius  was  overtaken  by  mortal  sickness,  and 
when  the  clergyman,  Quinstorp,  reminded  him  of 
his  sins  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  not  of 
his  services  and  world-wide  reputation,  'but  the 
grace  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  with  a  reference  to 
the  publican,  "  I  am  that  publican,"  replied  Grotius, 
and  then  expired.  Rowland  Hill  remarked, 
"  People  talk  about  looking  back  on  a  well-spent 
life.  1  look  up  to  Him  who  spent  His  life  gloriously 
to  redeem  the  life  of  my  precious  soul ;  and  there 
alone  1  dare  to  look.  I  thank  God  who  has  kept 
me  from  grosser  sins  of  the  world  ;  but  there  is  not 
a  prayer  more  suitable  to  my  dying  lips  than  that  of 
the  publican  :  '  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! '  " 
Archbishop  Usher  cften  said  he  hoped  to  die  with 
this  language  of  the  publican  in  his  mouth.  His 
wish  was  fulfilled,  for  his  last  words  were  :  "  God 
be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! "  Dr.  Woods,  of 
Andover,  the  night  before  his  death,  replied  to  a 
friend  who  asked  if  he  should  pray  with  him : 
"  There  is  no  prayer  that  meets  my  case  but  that 
of  the  publican  :  '  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner  !  '  " 

7.  Grandeur  of  the  Christian's  death. 

(1594.)  "  Death  swallowed  up  in  vict(  ry."  Earth 
presents  not  a  spectacle  of  equal  grandeur  to  that 
of  a  Christian  who  has  power  to  wrest  tlie  dart  of  the 
king  of  terrors  from  his  hand  on  the  very  confines 
of  an  eternal  world.  His  calm  but  lofty  tone  is 
the  language  of  the  conqueror,  though  in  the  midst 
of  infirmity,  death  and  judgment.  It  is  like  the 
half  hour  before  sunset — in  the  midst  of  nature's 
grandest  and  most  majestic  scenery — when  there  is 
not  a  breath  to  agitate  the  frailest  leaf,  or  ripple 
the  glassy  smoothness  of  the  water's  surface — it 
is  the  sublime  of  tranquillity.  — Salter. 

8.  In  death  the  saints  are  perfected. 

(1595.)  Fear  not  death,  then  ;  let  it  do  its  worst. 
It  can  give  thee  but  one  deadly  gripe  that  shall 
kill  itself,  and  prove  thy  life  ;  as  the  wasp  that 
leaves  its  sting  behind,  and  can  sting  no  more.  It 
shall  but  snuff  the  candle  of  thy  life,  and  make  it 
shine  brighter  when  it  seems  to  be  put  out  ;  it  is  but 
an  undressing,  and  a  gentle  sleep.  That  which  thou 
couldst  not  here  attain  by  all  our  preaching,  and  all 
thy  prayers,  and  cares,  and  pains,  thou  shalt  speedily 


attain  by  the  help  of  death.  It  is  but  themessengei 
of  thy  gracious  Lord,  and  calleth  thee  to  Him,  to 
the  place  that  He  hath  prepared. 

— B  rxtcr,  161 5-169 1. 

(1596.)  Death  is  the  time  when  sin  shall  gasp  its 
last,  and  so  far  our  physician  will  perfect  the  cure  ; 
and  our  greatest  enemy  shall  follow  us  no  further. 
It  is  the  door  by  which  the  soul  must  pass  to  Christ 
in  paradise. 

If  any  papist  shall  hence  plead  that  therefore  all 
men  must  be  perfect  without  sin  before  death,  or 
else  go  to  purgatory  to  be  cleansed,  because  as  we 
die,  so  Christ  will  find  us  ;  or  if  they  ask  how  death 
can  perfect  us?  I  answer  them,  "It  is  Christ  our 
physician  that  finisheth  the  cure,  and  death  is  the 
time  in  which  He  doeth  it."  And  if  He  undertake 
then  to  do  it,  it  concerns  not  us  to  be  too  inquisi- 
tive how  He  doeth  it.  What  if  the  patient  under- 
stand not  how  blood-letting  cureth  the  infected  blood 
that  is  left  behind  ?  Must  he  therefore  plead  against 
his  physician,  and  say,  *'  It  will  not  be  done," 
because  he  knoweth  not  how  it  is  done  ?  We  feel 
that  here  we  have  our  sinful  imperfections.  We 
have  for  all  that  a  promise  that  we  shall  be  with 
Christ  when  death  hath  made  its  separation;  and  we 
are  assured  that  no  sin  doth  enter  there.  And  is 
not  this  enough  for  us  to  know? 

But  yet  I  see  not  why  the  difficulty  of  the  objec 
tion  should  trouble  us  at  all.  Death  doth  remove 
us  from  this  sinful  flesh,  and  admits  the  soul  into 
the  sight  of  God.  And  in  the  very  instant  of  its 
removal  it  must  needs  be  perfected,  even  by  that 
removal,  and  by  the  first  appearance  of  His  blessed 
face.  If  you  bring  a  candle  into  a  dark  room,  the 
access  of  the  light  e.xpelleth  the  darkness  at  the  same 
instant ;  and  you  cannot  say  that  they  exist  to- 
gether one  moment  of  time.  So  cold  is  expelled  by 
the  approach  of  heat.  And  thus  when  death  hath 
opened  the  door,  and  let  us  into  the  immortal  light, 
neither  before  nor  after,  but  in  that  instant,  all  the 
darkness  and  sinful  imperfections  of  our  souls  are 
dissipated.  Throw  an  empty  bottle  into  the  sea, 
and  the  emptiness  ceaseth  by  the  filling  of  the 
water,  neither  before  nor  after,  but  in  that  instant. 

If  this  should  not  satisfy  any,  let  it  satisfy  them, 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  instant  of  death  can 
perfect  His  work. 

So  that  we  need  not  assert  a  perfection  on  earth 
(which  on  their  grounds  must  be  the  case  of  all  that 
escape  hell  and  purgatory),  nor  yet  any  purgatoi7 
torments  after  death,  for  the  deliverance  of  the  soul 
from  the  relics  of  sin  ;  seeing,  at  the  instant  of  death, 
by  the  .Spirit,  or  by  the  deposition  of  the  flesh,  or  by 
the  sight  of  God,  or  by  the  sight  of  our  glorified 
Redeemer,  or  by  all,  this  work  will  be  easily  and 
infallibly  accomplished.        — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1597.)  So  many  impurities  and  imperfections 
cleave  to  the  best  of  us,  that  it  seems  to  me  a 
change  must  take  place  at  death  only  second  to 
what  took  place  at  conversion.  The  holiness  of 
the  holiest  man,  how  far  short  it  is  of  the  holiness 
of  heaven  !  A  great  deal  of  sin  is  in  every  case  left 
behind  with  the  body,  to  be,  thank  God,  for  ever 
buried  in  its  grave  ;  and  could  we  see  the  spirit  at 
its  departure,  as  Elisha  saw  his  ascending  master, 
we  should  see  a  mantle  of  impurity  and  imperfec- 
tion dropped  from  the  chariot  that  bears  it  to  the  skies. 
In  the  very  hour  of  death,  therefore,  the  Spirit  of 
God  must  crown  all  His  other  labours  with  a  rapid 


DEA  TH. 


(    283    ) 


DEA  TH. 


wid  extraordinary  work  of  sanctifying.  How  that 
is  done  is  a  mystery  wliich  we  cannot  fathom  ;  but 
it  would  seem  as  if  grace,  lilce  that  si^ecies  of  ceieiu 
which  opens  its  gorgeous  flower  only  at  midnight, 
bursts  out  into  fullest  beauty  amid  the  darkness  of  a 
dying  hour.  It  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  God 
will  perfect  th;it  which  concerneth  us ;  that  He 
will  bring  us  safely  home ;  and  that  no  vessel, 
chartered  for  glory,  shall  be  lost  at  the  harbour's 
mouth.  It  takes  one  whole  summer,  with  its 
showers  and  sunshii-'^  to  ripen  the  lieHs  of  corn  ; 
it  takes  five  hundred  -amimers  to  bring  the  oak  to 
full  maturity  ;  but  He  at  whose  word  the  earth 
sprang  into  being,  bearing  on  its  bosom  loaded 
orchards,  and  golden  harvests,  and  clustering  vines, 
the  tall  palm,  and  the  gigantic  cedar,  woman  in  full 
blown  charms,  and  man  in  his  perfect  manhood. 
He  with  whom  one  day  is  as  a  thousand  years,  and 
a  thousand  years  as  one  day,  is  able  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye  to  complete  and  crown  the  work  of 
His  grace.  He  will  do  it.  He  that  began  a  good 
work  in  you  will  carry  it  on  to  the  day  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  ;  and  thus  apparelled  in  tlie  righteousness  of 
His  Son,  and  wholly  sanctified  by  the  power  of  His 
Spirit,  His  saints  shall  appear  before  Him — "  not 
having  spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing." 

—  Guthrie. 

(1598.)  "This  day  thou  shalt  be  with  Me  in 
paradise."  He  leaves  his  cross,  and  direct,  as  on 
a  summer  evening  I  have  seen  a  lark  with  outspread 
wir.gs  drop  singing  into  her  nest,  he  goes  up  singing 
to  iiis  crown.  — Guthrie. 

(1599.)  "What  a  poor  grovelling  thing  I  am  1  " 
said  a  caterpillar  to  itself  one  day,  as  it  toiled 
along  over  the  rough  road  of  the  path-field.  "  Oh, 
how  close  to  the  earth  I  keep  and  creep  ! 

"How  1  seem  to  envy  those  fluttering  creatures 
which  with  spread  wings  rise  in  the  air,  course  over 
the  meadow,  and  fly  or  alight  according  to  will. 
It  must  be  a  glorious  life  to  live,  of  which  a  poor 
worm  like  me  can  form  no  just  conception. 

"  Stay,  though  ;  I  ought  not  to  indulge  in  thoughts 
that  might  lead  unto  melancholy  repining,  and 
worse  rebellion,  and  I  am  not  the  only  little  being 
whose  '  habitation  is  in  the  dust.'  " 

And  so  the  caterpillar  lived  its  little  history, 
which  admitted  of  various  changes  ;  till  enveloped 
in  a  hard  shell  provided  by  nature,  it  remained  in 
a  chrysalis  state  a  while  till  it  seemed  to  awake 
into  a  new  existence  ;  threw  off  its  load,  and- was  a 
beautiful  butterfly. 

And  now,  it  no  longer  crept  into  the  earth  and 
was  confined  unto  the  dust.  Wings  of  brilliant  hues 
enabled  it  to  rise  on  high,  to  skim  over  fields  and 
gardens,  to  luxuriate  amongst  fragrant  flowers,  and 
to  sip  honey  out  of  their  dewy  cups. 

"Oh,  what  a  wondrous  change,  and  happy  life 
this  is  !"  it  exclaimed  ;  "how  unlike  to  my  original 
condition,  when  I  only  crept  about  the  earth  ;  and 
how  strange,  that  from  that  inactive,  unconscious 
slate  when  I  was  rolled  up  in  my  hard  shell,  I  am 
transformed  into  the  light,  briglit-winged  creature 
I  am,  never  more  to  be  what  1  was  !  " 

And  so,  too,  the  Christian  feels  himself  being  by 
nature  of  the  earth,  earthly.  How  often  he  mourns 
saying,  "  My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust  "  (Ps.  cxix. 
25).  How  he  longs  to  cast  off  the  ties  that  bind 
him  down  to  corruption,  as  the  Apostle,  "O 
wretched  man  that  I  am  :  who  shall  deliver  me 
!rom  the  body  of  this  death  ?  "     And  how  ardently 


he  craves  after  "  the  wings  of  a  dove,  to  fly  away, 
and  to  be  at  rest.  "  Then  he  sleeps  in  his  grave, 
till  the  morning  of  the  resurrection  ;  and  clothed  with 
a  new  body,  ascends  to  enjoy  for  ever  the  life  of 
glory  in  the  Paradise  of  heaven  ;  of  which  the  poet 
sings, 

"  There  shall  I  see,  and  hear,  and  know, 

All  I  desired,  or  wished  below  ; 

And  evei  y  poiver  fiiid.su  eet  employ, 

In  that  eternal  world  of  joy." 

— Bowden. 

(1600.)  It  does  not  seem  to  me,  as  I  look  at 
men  in  the  whole  round  of  their  condition  and 
stage  of  development,  that  on  dying  they  can  be 
expected  to  enter  upon  a  perfected  state.  There 
is  in  them  so  much  that  is  not  developed  at  all,  so 
much  that  is  deaf  and  dumb,  so  much  that  is  com- 
paratively paralysed,  so  much  that  is  shrunk  ;  there 
is  in  them  so  low  an  average  of  development  on 
every  side,  that  it  seems  to  me  impossible  that  any- 
thing short  of  a  miraculous  touch  of  re-creation  can 
bring  them  in  a  moment,  though  they  are  set  free 
from  the  body,  to  the  attitude  of  perfect  beings. 

We  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  in  more  senses 
than  one,  as  little  children.  1  take  it  that  we  leave 
this  world  to  go  on  with  our  stages  of  discipline — 
not  the  same  wiiich  we  have  here,  but  what  will,  in 
our  changed  conditions  and  circumstances,  be  equi- 
valent to  what  discipline  is  in  our  earthly  relations. 
But  it  does  not  seem  to  me  rational  that  we  shall  be 
trudging,  trudging,  trudging,  clear  up  to  the  moment 
of  death,  and  that  then  we  shall  start  up  absolutely 
different.  There  will  be  another  climate,  another 
soil,  and  a  nobler  growth  ;  but  there  will  ht  gnnrt/i. 
That  which  you  have  not  learned  here,  you  must 
learn  there.  That  which  you  have  left  undore  in 
this  world,  you  must  do  in  the  world  to  come. 

In  Labrador,  the  missionary,  at  the  beginning  oi 
a  short  summer,  sows  the  seed  of  the  vine.  It 
comes  up,  and  gets  a  little  start,  and  is  taken  out  of 
the  soil  and  husbanded  during  the  winter,  to  be  put 
out  again  when  the  next  brief  summer  sets  in.  But 
in  the  course  of  the  ten  years  of  this  missionary's 
life  in  that  cold  region,  the  vine  does  not  get  more 
than  three  or  four  feet  high,  and  never  shows  any 
symptoms  of  bud  or  blossom,  or  cluster.  The  soil 
is  too  cold,  and  the  summer  is  too  short.  At  length, 
the  missionary  is  recalled  to  his  native  land,  and  he 
takes  this  vine,  the  pet  of  his  leisure,  and  brings  it 
down  to  our  southern  latitudes,  anii  plants  it.  It 
is  now  the  same  vine  ;  it  has  the  same  root  ;  but  it 
is  not  the  same  sky  that  is  over  it.  Look  long,  O 
Summer  !  Look  warm,  O  Sun  !  Search  and  find 
where  the  hidden  things  in  the  vine  are.  Behold, 
how  it  begins  to  shoot  up  !  See  what  a  stately 
growth  it  is  having  !  Look  at  the  branch  upon 
branch  which  it  is  throwing  out  !  Observe  the 
smell  in  the  air  1  See  the  blossoms,  and  after  the 
blossoms,  the  clusters  which  the  autumn  shall  see 
hanging  inipurpled  and  ripened  I  But  it  took 
another  soil  and  another  sun  to  produce  it.  If 
never  would  have  reached  that  state  in  Labrador. 

— Beecher. 

9.  How  tbe  early  Christians  regarded  It. 

(160 1.)  There  are  those  who  look  upon  death  as 
a  separation  from  things  desirable  in  this  world. 
The  future  is  hardly  thought  of  It  is  what  is  being 
left,  it  is  letting  go,  it  is  being  "unclothed  " — to 
use  the  apostle's  phrase — that  is  thought  of.  I>ut 
there  is  no  evidence  that  in  the  primitive  Church, 


DEA  TH. 


(     284    ) 


DEATH. 


and  among  the  early  disciples,  there  were  any  of 
these  thoughts  or  feelings.  Dying,  to  the  early 
Christians,  was  going  to  see  the  Lord. 

A  child  that  has  been  penned  up  in  narrow 
quarters,  with  few  playthings,  and  in  constrained 
circumstances,  has  a  grandmother  and  a  grandfather 
living  in  the  country.  There  is  the  farmhouse, 
full  of  rude  abundance  ;  there  are  the  ample 
grounds  ;  there  is  the  brook,  with  fish  in  it  ;  there 
is  the  big  barn  ;  and  there  are  all  manner  of  things 
in  the  barnyard.  The  child  has  been  out  there 
once  ;  and  he  had  such  liberty,  and  found  his 
grandma  such  a  dear  old  grandma,  and  his  grandpa 
such  a  kind  old  grandpa,  that  the  days  were  not 
long  enough.  He  had  so  much  sport,  and  was 
made  so  much  of,  and  was  never  scolded,  and  never 
sent  to  school,  and  had  nothing  to  do  or  to  think  of 
but  to  play,  play,  play  all  the  time,  that  he  would 
have  liked  to  abide  there.  But  he  has  been  taken 
back  to  the  city,  and  he  lives  in  a  narrow  house, 
and  has  to  go  to  school,  and  has  to  do  this  thing 
and  that,  which  are  irksome  to  hirn,  and  is  put 
through  all  the  paces  which  are  thought  necessary 
for  his  education  and  development  ;  and  he  longs 
for  his  country  experience  again.  When  spring 
comes  round  once  more,  the  father  and  mother  say 
to  the  little  fellow,  "Now,  if  you  are  a  good  boy, 
next  June  we  are  going  to  take  you  out  to  grand- 
pa's." The  idea  of  going  out  of  the  city  to  grand- 
pa's !  The  child's  mind  is  filled  with  all  manner  of 
delights.  Ah,  what  perfect  ecstasy  he  feels  !  He 
dreams  about  going,  and  rejoices  in  the  thought. 
He  does  not  analyse  the  intermediate  steps,  nor 
thinks  much  about  them.  His  grandpa's  is  the 
place  where,  to  his  thought  and  affection,  centres 
everything  that  is  most  heavenly — for  a  boy  on 
earth,  that  is. 

I  suppose  that  comes  nearer  to  representing  the 
feelings  which  the  primitive  disciples,  the  early 
Christians,  had  about  dying,  than  any  other  illustra- 
tion that  you  could  well  make.  It  was  to  go  and 
be  with  the  Lord.  It  was  to  be  for  ever  with  the 
Lord.  It  was  the  coming  of  the  .Son  of  Man.  It 
was  a  thought  that  was  never  dashed  by  an  un- 
certainty. You  can  scarcely  find  a  passage  that 
indicates  that  the  apostles  had  any  doubt.  Theie 
is  but  a  single  allusion  in  the  whole  of  the  Apostle 
Paul's  writings  which  conveyed  any  doubt  (and 
that  was  not  really  doubtful)  on  the  point  of  death. 
That  was  in  reference  to  his  unfaithfulness  in  his 
ministerial  duty.  He  feared  that  he  had  not  ful- 
filled his  whole  duty  as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  of 
Christ,  and  that  he  should  be  cast  away.  In  regard 
to  death,  I  do  not  recollect  a  single  instance  in 
which  there  was  expressed,  by  the  early  Christians, 
any  uncertainty,  or  any  other  feeling  than  that  of 
exhilaration  and  ecstasy.  — Beecher. 

10.  Is  still  long'ed  for  by  holy  men. 

(1602.)  You  will  say  that  child  is  willing  that 
calls  to  be  put  to  bed  ;  some  of  the  saints  have 
desired  God  to  lay  them  at  rest  in  their  beds  of 
dust ;  and  that  not  in  a  pet  and  discontent  with 
their  present  trouble,  as  Job  did  ;  but  from  a  sweet 
sense  of  this  peace  in  their  bosoms.  "Now  let 
Thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen  Thy  salvation,"  was  the  swan-like  song  of  old 
Simeon.  He  speaks  like  a  merchant,  that  had  got 
all  his  goods  on  ship-board,  and  now  desires  the 
master  of  the  ship  to  hoist  sail,  and  be  gone  homo- 
wards.     Indeed  what  should  a  Christian,  that  is  but 


a  foreigner  here,  desire  to  stay  any  longer  for  in  the 
world,  but  to  get  this  full  lading  in  for  heaven  ? 

— Gurnall, 

11.  Is  not  to  be  impatiently  desired. 

(1603.)  I  account  this  body  nothing  but  a  close 
prison  to  my  soul  ;  and  the  earth  a  larger  prison  to 
my  body.  I  may  not  break  prison,  till  I  be  loosed 
by  death  ;  but  1  will  leave  it,  not  unwillinglyj  when 
1  am  loosed.  — Hall,  1574-1656. 

{1604.)  A  dutiful  child  is  ever  looking  forward  to 
the  holidays,  when  he  shall  return  to  his  father ; 
but  he  does  not  think  of  running  from  school 
before.  — Newton,  1725-1807. 

{1605.)  There  are  times,  I  suppose,  in  which 
the  most  zealous  would,  if  it  were  God's  will,  be 
glad  to  die — to  retire  from  the  battle  of  life — be- 
cause they  think  it  will  make  no  difference  whether 
they  live  or  die.  They  have  such  a  consciousness 
of  imperfection,  of  inferiority,  of  unfitness  in  them- 
selves, that  they  feel  that  it  could  scarcely  be  worse, 
and  that  it  might  be  much  better  if  they  were  out 
of  the  world,  and  their  places  filled  by  others. 

What  is  a  drop  of  water  of  itself?  What  can  be 
more  harmless?  What  is  weaker?  What  is  less 
potent  for  any  effect?  It  is  mist,  invisible.  It 
rises  through  the  imperceptible  paths  of  the  air, 
and  hangs  unseen  in  the  heavens,  till  the  cold 
strikes  it,  and  it  congeals  into  clouds,  and  falls  in 
the  form  of  rain,  perhaps  on  the  mountain's  top, 
and  is  sucked  up  by  the  greedy  earth.  Still  sinking 
through  the  earth,  it  reaches  the  line  of  the  rocks, 
from  whose  sides  it  oozes  out  and  trickles  down, 
when,  finding  other  drops  as  weak  as  itself,  they 
unite  their  forces  ;  and  the  sum  of  the  weakness  of 
all  these  drops  goes  to  make  the  rill  ;  which  flows 
on,  making  music  as  it  flows,  until  it  meets  counter 
streams.  These,  combined,  form  the  river ;  the 
rivers  form  the  estuaries  ;  and  the  estuary  the  ocean 
itself.  And  now,  when  God  has  marshalled  the 
sum  of  the  weakness  of  myriad  drops  together,  they 
lift  the  mightiest  ship  as  if  it  were  but  a  feather, 
and  play  with  the  winds  as  if  they  were  niere  in- 
struments of  sport.  And  yet,  that  very  drop, 
which  a  man  could  bear  upon  the  end  of  his  fingei, 
is  there,  and  has  its  part  and  lot  in  the  might  of 
the  whole  vast,  unbounded  sea. 

We  in  our  singleness,  in  our  individuality,  in  our 
own  selves,  are  weaker  than  a  drop  of  water,  and 
more  unstable  ;  but  as  gathered  together  in  the 
great  ocean  of  life,  as  kept  together  by  the  mighty 
currents  which  God's  providences  make,  we  attain, 
working  together  with  Him,  under  the  inspiration 
of  His  Spirit,  to  a  might  that  makes  life  not 
ignoble,  but  sublime.  It  is  most  worthy  of  remark 
that  the  things  that  have  called  forth  the  most 
strength  and  endeavour  of  life  have  been  things 
that  we  have  most  utterly  failed  in  doing  ;  while 
the  things  that  seem  to  draw  about  themselves  only 
the  endeavours  of  weakness,  have  been  the  things 
that  God  has  established  most.  — Beecher 

(1606.)  Death  is  not  a  thing  to  be  desired  :  it  is 
not  a  blessing,  but  God's  curse  on  account  of  sin. 
.Sometimes  indeed  it  is  ignorantly  longed  for. 
Overwhelmed  by  misery,  not  a  few  who  are  without 
God  and  without  hope  in  the  w'orld  anticipate  its 
period,  and  prematurely  and  violently  terminate 
their  earthly  career.    But  no  one  can  be  so  mislakeD 


DEATH. 


(    285    ) 


DEA  TH. 


or  so  unhappy  as  the  suicide.  In  their  moments  of 
despair,  even  good  men  liave  desired  to  be  in  tlie 
grave,  whereas  Job  so  pathetically  says,  '"  the  wicked 
Cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest  ;  " 
where  the  prisoners  rest  together,  and  hear  not  the 
voice  of  the  oppressor  ;  where  are  the  small  and 
great,  and  where  the  servant  is  free  from  his  master. 
But,  like  Job  himself,  v\hen  they  have  returned  to 
calmness  arid  confidence  in  God,  each  has  said  : 
"All  the  days  of  my  appointed  time  will  I  wait, 
until  my  change  come."  No  good  man  will  ever 
deliberately  wish  merely  to  die. 

The  true  servants  of  God  will  never  dishonour 
Him  by  proclaiming  that  the  task  He  sets  them  is 
so  intolerable,  that  it  were  better  to  be  as  the  clods 
of  the  valley  than  engaged  in  its  performance. 

The  true  soldiers  of  Christ,  who  have  been  placed 
by  Him  in  positions  of  especial  difficulty,  danger, 
and  hardship,  that  they  may  peculiarly  distinguish 
themselves,  and  win  for  Him  peculiar  glory,  will 
never  long  merely  for  the  ending  of  the  campaign. 
They  will  not  be  perpetually  contrasting  the  priva- 
tions of  war  with  the  comforts  of  peace,  and  moan- 
ing and  complaining  because  the  conflict  is  prolonged. 
Victory,  not  ease,  will  be  the  supreme  object  of 
their  desire.  They  will  hate  the  w  ish  to  desert  their 
post,  just  as  they  would  actually  to  desert.  Until 
the  Captain  of  their  salvation  summons  them  to 
Himself,  they  will  cheerfully  endure  harv'ness  as 
His  good  soldiers. 

Even  those  of  Christ's  followers,  to  whom  life 
setms  one  prolonged  furnace  of  affliction,  will  never 
forget  that  God  placid  them  in  it  and  that  His  eye 
is  upon  them,  that  He  sits  as  a  refiner  and  purifier 
of  silver  watching  them  with  most  anxious  care,  that 
His  only  desire  is  to  purge  them  as  gold  and  silver 
from  all  dross  and  defilement,  and  that  as  soon  as  the 
perfect  reflection  in  them  of  His  Image  proclaims 
that  the  work  is  done,  the  scorching  fire  shall  be 
removed,  and  each  of  them  shall  be  fashioned  into 
a  vessel  of  honour  for  the  Master's  use  :  and  not  one 
of  them  would  wish  to  have  the  fire  quenched  before 
their  heavenly  Father  Himself  sees  fit  to  do  so. 

But  it  is  not  wrong  for  the  servants  to  wish  for 
the  successful  accomplishment  of  their  task,  nor  for 
the  soldiers  to  desire  the  victory  and  triumph  of 
which  they  are  assured,  nor  for  those  who  are  in 
the  furnace  to  !ong  for  the  moment  when  their  puri- 
fication sliall  be  com])lete.  And  so  as  Paul  says, 
"  We  tliat  are  in  this  tabernacle  do  groan,  being 
burdened,  not  for  that  we  woukl  be  unclothed,  but 
clothed  upon,  that  mortality  might  be  swallowed  up 
of  life  :  " — not  merely  that  we  may  be  eased  of  our 
burden,  and  like  the  horse  or  ass  end  at  once  our 
labours  and  our  life,  but  that  we  may  attain  to  that 
more  exalted  state  of  being  which  God  has  pro- 
mised us  in  His  Word.  — R.  A.  Bertram. 

12.  Sudden  deatli. 

(1607.)  Lord,  be  pleased  to  shake  my  clay  cot- 
tage before  Thou  throwest  it  down.  Make  it  totter 
awhile  before  it  doth  tumble.  Let  me  be  summoned 
before  1  am  surprised.  Deliver  me  from  "sudden 
death  ;  "  not  from  sudden  death  in  respect  to  itself, 
for  I  care  not  how  short  my  passage  be,  so  it  be 
safe.  Never  any  weary  traveller  complained  that  he 
came  too  soon  to  his  journey's  end.  But  let  it  not 
be  sudden  in  respect  of  me.  Make  me  always  ready 
to  receive  death.  Thus  no  guest  comes  unawares  to 
him  who  keeps  a  constant  table. 

— I'ulkr,  i6'^7-i7or. 


(r6o8.)  To  a  man  awakened  by  grace,  sudden 
death  will  be  sudden  glory. 

—  Cecil,    174S-1810. 

(1609.)  I  have  always  been  peculiarly  subject  to 
sea-sickness.  When  I  was  going  abroad,  and  all 
the  wonders  of  the  Continent  were  dazzling  my 
imagination,  I  used  to  lie  in  my  berth  scarcely  able 
to  stir,  wilted  and  worthless.  I  knew  there  were 
ten  days  between  New  York  and  Liverpool,  and  I 
used  to  say  to  myself,  "  Well,  are  you  willing  to 
take  these  ten  days  of  nausea  and  universal  disgust 
for  the  sake  of  the  three  months  of  exquisite  joy 
which  you  are  going  to  have  on  the  Continent  ?" 
I  never  was  so  sea-sick  but  that  I  was  deliberately 
willing  to  pay  the  price.  I  said,  "  This  is  about  as 
bad  as  anything  can  well  be  in  this  world;  but  for 
the  sake  of  that  which  is  beyond  it  I  will  take  even 
this."  Returning,  we  had  a  passage  of  seventeen 
days.  We  came  with  a  water-logged  steamship. 
She  was  loaded  down  deeper  by  many  feet  than 
she  should  have  been.  She  had  contraband  goods  to 
land  at  Halifax,  which  I  had  the  pleasure  of  riding 
upon  all  the  way  across  the  sea.  It  was  stormy 
from  shoro  to  shore,  without  a  single  fair  day.  But 
the  place  to  which  we  were  going  was  my  home-; 
there  was  my  family  ;  there  was  my  church ;  there 
were  my  friends  who  were  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own 
life.  And  I  lay  perfectly  happy  in  the  midst  of  sick- 
iiHSS  and  nausea.  All  that  the  boat  could  do  to  me 
could  not  keep  down  the  exultation  and  joy  which 
rose  up  in  me.  For  every  single  hour  was  carrying 
me  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  spot  where  was  all  that 
I  loved  in  the  world.  It  was  deep,  dark  midnight 
when  we  ran  into  Halifax.  1  could  see  nothing. 
Yet,  the  moment  we  came  into  still  water  I  rose 
from  my  berth,  and  got  up  on  deck.  And  as  I  sat 
near  the  smoke-stack  while  they  were  unloading 
the  cargo,  upon  the  wharf,  I  saw  the  shadow  of  a 
person,  apparently  going  backward  and  forward 
near  me.  At  last  the  thought  occurred  to  me, 
"Am  I  watched?"  Just  then  the  person  addressed 
me,  saying,  "Is  this  Mr.  Beecher  ? "  "It  is,"  I 
replied.  "I  have  a  telegram  for  you  from  your 
wife."  I  had  not  realised  that  I  had  struck  the 
continent  where  my  family  were.  There,  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  and  in  darkness,  the  intel- 
ligence that  I  had  a  telegram  from  home — I  cannot 
tell  you  what  a  thrill  it  sent  through  me  ! 

Brethren,  we  are  all  sailing  home  ;  and  by  and  by, 
when  we  are  not  thinking  of  it,  some  shadowy 
thing  (men  call  it  death),  at  midnight,  will  pass  by, 
and  will  call  us  by  name,  and  will  say,  "  I  have  a 
message  for  you  from  home ;  God  wants  you ; 
heaven  waits  for  you."  — Beecher. 

13.  Its  revelations. 

(1610.)  Alexander  of  Russia  used  often  to  ride  in 
a  plain  carriage,  incognito.  A  man  on  the  road 
asked  if  he  might  ride  with  him.  He  got  into  the 
carriage,  and  after  awhile  was  inquisitive  as  to  the 
name  of  the  man  with  whom  he  was  riding.  He 
said,  "Are  you  a  lieutenant?"  "No,"  said  the 
king.  "Are  you  a  major?"  "No,"  said  the  king. 
"Are  you  a  general?"  "No,''  said  the  king; 
"but  I  am  something  higher  than  that."  The  man 
said,  "Then  you  must  be  the  emperor, "  and  was 
overwhelmed  with  his  company.  In  this  world 
God  appears  to  us  in  strange  ways.  He  takes  us 
up  in  the  chariot  of  His  providence  to  ride  with 
llim,  and  we  know  Ilim  not.    At  death  the  disguise 


DEA  TH. 


(    286    ) 


DEATH. 


will  be  gone,  and  for  the  first  it  will  be  known  to 
us  that  we  have  been  riding  with  the  King. 

—  1  almagi. 

IV.  ENCOURAGEMENTS  FOR  THE  FEAR- 
FUL. 

1.  Christ  has  abolished  death. 

(161 1.)  The  death  of  the  faithful  seemeth  indeed 
to  be  like  unto  the  death  of  the  unbelievers  ;  but 
verily  this  is  as  great  a  difference  as  between  heaven 
and  earth.  Our  death  is  even  as  a  death-image 
made  of  wood,  which  grinneth  with  the  teeth,  and 
feareth,  but  cannot  devour.  Our  death  should  be 
esteemed  even  as  Moses'  brazen  serpent,  which 
having  the  form  and  proportion  of  a  serpent  was 
yet  without  biting,  without  moving,  without  poison- 
ing. Even  so,  though  death  be  not  utterly  taken 
away,  yet  through  the  grace  of  God  it  is  so  weakened 
and  made  void,  that  only  the  bare  proportion  re- 
maineth.  — WtrmuUerus,  1557. 

{16 1 2.)  A  pardoned  soul  needs  not  fear  death. 
He  may  look  on  death  with  joy,  who  can  look  on 
forgiveness  with  faith.  To  a  pardoned  soul  death 
hath  lost  his  sting.  Death  to  a  pardoned  sinner,  is 
like  the  arresting  a  man  after  the  debt  is  paid  ; 
death  may  arrest,  but  Christ  will  show  the  debt- 
book  crossed  in  His  blood.  A  pardoned  soul  may 
triumph  over  death,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting? 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  " 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(1613.)  For  them  that  are  His,  Christ  has 
"abolished  death."  Death  is  to  them  a  messenger, 
inviting  them  to  exchange  their  tabernacles  of  clay 
for  palaces  not  made  with  hands  ;  a  deliverer  from 
the  fetters  of  time  ;  a  summons  to  His  soldiers  to 
lay  aside  their  armour,  and  to  put  on  the  chaplet  of 
victory  ;  an  escort  to  conduct  home  his  bride,  that 
the  espousals  may  be  consummated  ;  a  chariot  to 
convey  them  from  this  famine-stricken  land  to  the 
Goshen  of  perpetual  plenty  ;  a  ferry  to  carry  them 
once  for  all  over  the  flood  that  rolls  between  this 
wilderness  of  sighs  and  the  happy  valley,  whence 
sorrow  and  sighing  have  for  ever  fled.  It  is  true 
their  earthly  stars  pale  and  fade,  but  it  is  before  the 
dawning  of  undying  day. 

To  die  is  for  the  Christian  "gain,"  because  to 
him  "  to  liie  is  Christ."  Death  is  the  development 
of  his  life;  the  flower  drops,  and  the  fruit  expands. 
— R.  A.  Bertram. 

2.  Deatli  Is  Qod's  angel. 

(1614.)  The  angel  of  sleep  and  the  angel  of  death 
wandered  in  fraternal  unity  over  the  world.  It  was 
evening.  They  rested  on  a  hill  not  far  from  the 
habitations  of  man.  A  placid  calmness  prevailed 
everywhere  ;  even  the  sound  of  the  curfew  ceased 
in  the  distant  hamlet. 

Calmly  and  silently,  as  is  their  wont,  the  two 
beneficent  angels  of  mankind  held  each  other  em- 
braced until  night  approached.  Then  the  angel 
of  sleep  arose  from  his  mossy  seat,  and  strewed  with 
noiseless  hand  the  invisible  seeds  of  slumber. 

The  evening  breeze  carried  them  to  the  quiet 
dwellings  of  the  tired  country  people,  and  sweet 
sleep  descended  on  the  dwellers  in  their  rural  huts, 
from  the  old  man  with  his  crutcli  to  the  babe  in 
the  cradle.  The  sick  once  more  forgot  their  pains, 
the  troubled  soul  her  grie^  and  poverty  her  cares ; 
loi  every  eye  was  closed. 


Now,  his  task  being  done,  the  beneficent  angel 
of  sleep  returned  to  his  graver  brother  "When 
the  light  of  morning  arises,"  he  exclaimed  with 
innocent  joy,  "then  mankind  will  praise  me  as 
their  friend  and  benefactor.  What  a  blessing  to  do 
good  in  secret  !  How  happy  are  we,  the  invisible 
messengers  of  the  good  Spirit  !  How  beautiful 
our  silent  calling  !"  Thus  spoke  the  gentle  angel 
of  sleep. 

The  angel  of  death  gazed  at  him  with  a  look  of 
soft  melancholy,  and  a  fear,  such  as  immortal  beings 
shed,  glistened  in  his  large  dark  eye.  "Alas!" 
said  he,  "  would  that  I  could  enjoy  cheerful  grati- 
tude like  thee  !  The  world  calls  me  her  enemy 
and  disturber  !  " 

"  O  my  brother,"  replied  the  angel  of  sleep, 
"  will  not,  at  the  awakening,  the  good  man  acknow- 
ledge thee  as  his  friend  and  benefactor,  and  grate- 
fully bless  thee?  Are  we  not  brethren  and  mes- 
sengers of  one  Father  ? " 

When  he  si^oke  thus,  the  eye  of  the  angel  of 
death  glistened  brightly,  and  the  fraternal  spirits 
embraced  with  renewed  tenderness. 

— Krumviacher. 

3.  It  toucbes  the  body  only. 

(161 5.)  The  egg-shell,  though  it  be  goodly  and 
fair-fashioned,  must  be  opened  and  broken,  that  the 
young  chick  may  slip  out  of  it.  None  otherwise 
doth  death  dissolve  and  break  up  our  body,  but  to 
the  intent  that  we  may  attain  unto  the  life  of 
heaven.  — IVerrnullerus,   1551. 

(161 6.)  In  proportion  as  the  body  falls  into  ruin, 
the  spirit  is  disengaged  and  renewed  ;  like  a  pure 
and  brilliant  flame,  which  ascends  and  shines  forth 
with  additional  splendour  in  proportion  as  it  disen- 
gages itself  from  the  remains  of  matter  which  held 
it  down,  and  as  the  substance  to  which  it  was 
attached  is  consumed  and  dissipated. 

— Massillon. 

(161 7.)  If  a  miserable  prisoner  were  taken  oat  of 
his  dungeon  to  a  palace,  in  order  to  receive  a  king- 
dom, you  would  not  say  that  he  ceases  to  be  a  man  ; 
you  would  not  say  that  he  discontinues  to  -ibide ; 
you  would  say — "  Nothing  has  happened  '.o  him 
but  an  advantageous  change  in  his  manner  of  liv- 
ing." So  1  say  of  this  man  — "  Nothing  has  hap- 
pened in  death  to  injure  him  1  Nothing  has 
happened  but  a  glorious  change  in  his  manner  ol 
living!"  — C^«7,  1748-1810. 

(1618.)  We  are  only  "delivered  from  this  body" 
by  the  act  of  dying  ;  and  when  Christ  is  with  us, 
this  is  all  that  we  mean  by  dying.  That  part  of  our 
nature  which  believes  in  Jesus  can  never  die. 
Sickness  cannot  dissolve — nor  fever  waste — nor 
fracture  mutilate  —  thought,  fidelity,  and  love. 
"Strike  on,  strike  on;  thou  canst  not  touch 
Anaxarchus  !  "  So  said  the  sage  to  the  executioner, 
who  was  commanded  to  destroy  him  with  the  strokes 
of  an  iron  mace;  and  so  we  may  challenge  death. 
The  ship  may  be  broken  on  the  rocks,  but  the 
passenger  will  live  and  reach  the  shore  ;  the  tent 
may  be  levelled  to  the  dust,  but  the  tenant  will  sur- 
vive ;  the  believer,  when  he  drops  the  burden  of  the 
flesh,  though  "absent  from  the  body,"  is  "present 
with  the  Lord."  — Stan/ord. 

(1619.)  Not  long  ago,  a  group  of  Alpine  villagers 
were  engaged,  in  early  summer,  weeding  their  crops 
close  to    their   native   hamlet.     Above   them   rose 


DEATH. 


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DEATH. 


mountain  piled  upon  mountain,  crested  with  jagged 
peaks  of  everlasting  snow.  A  low,  murmuring, 
crushing  sound  was  heard  at  eventide,  high  up 
among  these  cliffs  ;  a  sound  too  familiar  to  be  mis- 
taken by  experienced  ears.  It  was  the  awful  mes- 
senger of  wrath  and  destruction.  A  fragment  of 
rock  loosened  in  the  topmast  crags,  became  the 
nucleus  and  feeder  of  the  avalanche.  Down  came 
the  terrific  invader,  sweeping  all  before  it,  and 
burying  the  handful  of  huts  in  a  common  ruin.  The 
villagers  escaped  themselves  unhurt.  Disentangling 
their  mutilated  furniture  from  the  midst  of  the 
broken  pine,  rafters,  and  stones,  and  thankful  for 
their  providential  escape,  they  moved  to  the  oppo- 
site slope  of  the  valley,  and  reared  their  dwellings 
anew. 

Death  is  that  avalanche  !  "  At  such  a  time  as 
we  think  not!"  It  maybe  in  smiiing  spring,  or 
in  a  radiant  summer,  or  hoary  winter — down  it 
comes,  destroying  all  that  is  fair  anrl  lovely  and 
beauteous — rooting  up  tender  flov\ers,  budding 
blossoms,  trellised  vines,  primeval  forests, — over- 
whelming "the  house  of  the  earthly  tabernacle," 
and  leaving  it  a  mass  of  dilapidated  walls,  and 
shattered  timbers.  But  what  of  the  inmate  ?  What 
of  the  immortal  inhabitant  ?  The  house  is  dissolved, 
but  the  tenant  is  safe.  A  new  home  is  reared  for  it. 
The  soul  quits  the  wreck  bodily  frame-work,  and 
seeks  the  "  building  of  God,  eternal  in  the 
heavens."  The  saaie  idea  is  beautifully  expressed 
by  a  Christian  poet  of  the  land  of  Luther  in  one  of 
their  funeral  hymns — 

"  Here  in  an  inn  a  stranger  dwelt. 
Here  joy  and  grief  by  turns  he  felt! 
Poor  dwelling,  now  \/e  close  thy  door. 

The  ta>k  is  o'er, 
The  sojourner  returns  no  more  I 

"Now  of  a  lasting  home  po-;sest. 
He  gnes  to  seek  a  deeper  rest. 
The  Lord  biouLiht  here  ;  He  calls  awayv 

Make  no  delay, 
This  home  was  fur  a  passing  day.'' 

—Macduff. 
4.  Even  the  body  shall  rise  again. 
(1620.)  If  an  old  silver  goblet  be  melted,  and 
new-fashioned  after  a  beautiful  manner,  then  is  it 
better  than  before,  and  neither  spilt  nor  destroyed. 
Even  so  have  we  just  cause  to  complain  of  death, 
whereby  the  body  being  delivered  from  all  filthiness, 
shall  in  his  due  time  be  perfectly  renewed. 

—  ^VermuUerus,  1557' 

(1621.)  Is  it  the  taking  down  of  thine  earthly 
tabernacle  which  troubles  thee  ?  Why,  dost  thou 
not  know  that  death  is  the  workman  sent  by  the 
Father  to  pull  down  this  earthly  house  of  mortality 
and  clay,  that  it  may  be  set  up  anew,  infinitely 
more  lasting,  beautiful,  and  glorious  ?  Didst  thou 
believe  how  rich  and  splendid  He  intends  to  make 
it,  which  cannot  be  unless  taken  down,  thou  wouldst 
contentedly  endure  the  present  toil  and  trouble, 
and  be  thankful  to  Him  for  His  care  and  cost.  He 
takes  down  thy  vile  body,  that  He  may  fashion  it 
like  to  tlie  glorious  body  of  His  own  Son,  which  for 
brightness  and  beauty  excels  the  sun  in  its  best 
attire  far  more  than  that  doth  the  meanest  star. 

Is  it  the  untying  of  the  knot  betwixt  body  and 
soul  which  perplexeth  thee?  It  is  trae  they  part  ; 
but,  as  friends  going  two  several  ways,  shake 
hands  till  they  return  from  their  journey,  t'ney  are 
as  sure  of  meeting  again  as  of  parting  ;  so  thy  soul 
shall  •eturn   laden  with   the  wealth  of  heaven  and 


fetch   his  old  companion  to  the  participation  of  all 
his  joy  and  happiness.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(1622.)  If  in  good  sadness  you  believe  the  resur- 
rection, what  cause  is  there  for  so  much  fear  o£ 
death  ?  You  can  be  content  that  your  roses  die, 
and  your  sweetest  flowers  fall  and  perish,  and  the 
green  and  beauteous  complexion  of  the  earth  be 
turned  into  a  bleak  and  withered  hue,  because  you 
expect  a  kind  of  resurrection  in  the  spring.  You 
can  boldly  lie  down  at  night  to  sleep  though  sleep 
be  a  kind  of  death  to  the  body,  and  more  to  the 
soul,  and  all  because  you  shall  rise  again  in  the 
morning  ;  and  if  every  night's  sleep  (or  one  at 
least)  were  a  gentle  death,  if  you  were  sure  to  rise 
again  the  next  morning,  you  would  make  no  great 
matter  of  it.  Were  it  as  common  for  men  to  die 
every  night,  and  rise  again  in  the  morning,  as  it  is 
to  sleep  every  night  -^nd  rise  in  the  morning,  death 
would  not  seem  such  a  dreadful  thing. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  Death  Is  our  deliverance  from  bondage. 

(1623.)  If  a  man  lie  in  a  dark  miserable  prison, 
with  this  condition  that  he  should  not  come  forth 
till  the  walls  of  the  tower  were  fallen  down,  un- 
doubtedly he  would  be  right  glad  to  see  the  walls 
begin  to  fall.  Our  soul  is  kept  in  within  the  body 
upon  earth  as  in  captivity  and  bonds  :  now  as 
soon  as  the  body  is  at  a  point  that  it  must  needs 
fall,  why  should  we  be  sorry  ?  For  by  this  ap- 
proachelh  the  deliverance,  when  we  out  of  the 
prison  of  misery  shall  be  brought  before  the  most 
amiable  countenance  of  God,  into  the  joyful  free- 
dom of  heaven.  'According  to  this  did  David 
pray  :  "  Bring  my  soul  out  of  prison,  O  Lord,  that 
I  may  give  thanks  unto  Thy  name." 

—  IVermuIlerus,  1557. 

(1624.)  It  is  well  known  that  when  a  jailer 
knocks  off  a  prisoner's  fetters,  that  the  constant 
wearing  them  hath  put  him  to  a  great  deal  less  pain 
than  the  knocking  of  them  off  doth  at  the  present ; 
yet,  though  every  blow  go  to  the  very  heart  of  him, 
he  never  murmurs  at  it,  but  is  quiet  and  well  con- 
tented, because  he  knows  that  the  pain  will  be  com- 
pensated by  the  ease  that  he  shall  afterwards  enjoy. 
Thus  it  is  that  all  men  here  lie  fettered  with  the 
irons  of  mortality  and  sin,  in  which  case  it  may  be, 
when  God  comes  to  knock  off  those  irons  by  death, 
that  they  feel  more  pain  and  extremity  than  before; 
yet,  because  this  brings  to  ease  and  everlasting  rest, 
let  them  be  patient  in  this  the  time  of  their  dissolu- 
tion. — Rogers,  1636. 

(1625.)  When  death  cuts  asunder  the  string  of 
the  body,  the  soul,  as  a  dove,  flies  away,  and  is  at 
rest.  — Watson,  1696. 

(1626.)  There  is  not  in  the  compass  of  nature  a 
more  lively  emblem  of  the  soul,  imprisoned  in  this 
mortal  body,  than  (homely  as  the  comparison  may 
appear)  that  of  a  bird  in  the  egg.  The  little 
animal,  though  thus  confined,  is  in  the  midst  of  the 
scenes  of  its  future  life.  It  is  not  distance  which 
excludes  it  from  the  air,  the  light,  and  all  the  objects 
with  which  it  will  so  soon  be  conversant.  It  is  in 
the  midst  of  them,  though  utterly  shut  out  from 
them  ;  and  when  the  moment  for  bursting  its  en- 
closure comes,  will  be  ushered  into  a  new  world, 
and  translated  into  scenes  unknown  before,  not  by 
the  change  of  place,    but  by  passing   into  another 


DEA  TH. 


(     288     ) 


DEA  TH. 


state  of  existence.  So  it  is  with  the  soul.  It  is 
now,  in  a  certain  sense,  in  eternity,  and  surrounded 
with  eternal  things.  Even  the  body  to  which  it  is 
attached  stands  out  on  the  surface  of  this  globe  in 
infinite  space.  Besides,  the  spiritual  world  en- 
velopes it  on  every  side  !  It  is  encompassed  with  a 
cloud  of  witnesses ;  innumerable  spirits  encamp 
about  it ;  and  God  is  as  intimately  present  to  it,  as 
to  the  highest  angel  that  beholds  his  face  in  heaven. 
Nevertheless  to  realise  to  itself  the  nearness  and  the 
presence  of  these  natural  objects,  at  least  to  know 
them  as  it  will  know  them  hereafter,  is  a  thing  im- 
possible, Why?  Not  because  any  tract  of  space 
is  interposed  between  the  soul  and  them,  but  be- 
cause the  spiritual  principle,  while  united  to  flesh, 
is  by  the  laws  of  that  union  so  imprisoned  in  the 
body  as  to  be  denied  all  means  of  intercourse  with 
those  scenes  which  lie  around  its  prison  walls. 
'I'he  hand  of  death  alone  can  unbar  the  door,  and 
let  the  spirit  out  into  the  free  air  and  open  daylight 
of  eternity.  There  is  one  important  particular  more, 
in  which  this  analogy  holds.  Unless  the  embryo  is 
vivified  while  in  the  egg,  it  can  receive  no  vitalis- 
ing principle  after.  If  the  shell  is  broken,  the  young 
bird  comes  out  dead.  Thus  it  is  also  with  the  soul. 
Unless  impregnated  with  spiritual  life  before  it 
leaves  the  body,  it  will  come  fortli  still-born  into 
eternity,  and  continue  for  ever  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins.  —  Woodward, 

(1627.)  Death,  like  the  angel  in  Peter's  dungeon, 
breaks  the  fetters  of  mortality,  throws  open  the 
prison  doors  ;  and  from  the  gloom  of  night  and 
the  crash  of  the  earthquake  leads  the  spirit  out  10 
gladsome  day.  Oh,  that  we  would  ever  view  it  as 
such — the  exodus  of  life — the  outmarching  of  the 
soul  from  its  chains  and  its  bondage  to  the  land  of 
rest  and  liberty  and  peace  I  — Macduff. 

(1628.)  There  are  in  many  a  dungeon  to-day 
men  who  have  been  there,  unsunned,  for  years  and 
years,  down  deeper  than  the  roots  could  go.  There, 
in  their  unventilated  prison,  vermin-covered, 
chilled,  and  almost  bereft  of  reason  itself,  they  drag 
out  a  miserable  existence.  But  suppose  their 
prison-doors  should  be  thrown  wide  open,  and 
they  should  be  called,  by  some  liberating  army,  as 
the  Italians  were,  to  leave  their  dungeons,  would 
they  think  it  a  misfortune?  Would  they  count 
liberty  to  be  a  burden,  and  the  chance  to  be  free 
again  a  thing  to  be  wept  about  ?  And  we,  that  are 
of  the  earth,  earthy  ;  we  that  are  of  the  flesh, 
fleshly ;  we  that  are  infants,  undeveloped  ;  we 
that  have  a  thousand  germinant  points,  beginnings, 
almost  none  of  which  are  grown  ;  we  that  are  wait- 
ing, not  for  the  redemption  of  the  body,  but  for 
redemption  from  the  body — for  the  enfranchisement 
of  the  spirit — shall  we  speak  of  death  gloomily  ? 

— Beiclier. 

6.  Death  Is  the  end  of  all  our  cares  and  sor- 
rows. 

(1629.)  We  spend  our  years  with  sighing;  it  is 
a  valley  of  tears  :  but  death  is  the  funeral  of  all  our 
sorrows.  — Watson,  1696. 

7.  Death  transforms  the  future. 

(1630.)  "To  die  is  gain"  to  the  Christian, 
because  for  him -"  death  transforms  the  future." 
To  all  of  us  now  the  future  is  full  of  fear.  We 
iv-now  it  will  bring  with  it  changes.  If  we  be 
%)ared,  yet  we  shall  ':e  called  to  part  with  those  we 


love,  and  to  lay  them  in  the  silent  tomb.     Old  age 

means  solitariness.  One  by  one  the  companions 
of  youth  depart.  Grey  hairs  speak  not  only  of 
multiplied  years,  but  also  of  added  griefs.  The 
man  who  by  reason  of  strength  attains  to  fourscore 
years,  finds  himself  a  stranger  amongst  a  strange 
generation,  without  any  to  sympathise  with  him, 
with  no  other  solace  than  this,  that  soon  he  too 
must  go  the  way  of  all  flesh.  But  for  the  Christian, 
death  changes  all  this.  To  him  the  future  means 
re-union.  Each  year  will  bring  home  the  dear 
ones.  One  by  one  they  will  come  to  complete  the 
immortal  circle. 

You  may  have  seen  an  emigrant  vessel  leave  our 
shores.  Oh,  what  tearful  partings !  What  an- 
guished cries  !  What  heart-broken  farewells  ! 
How  those  left  behind  strain  their  vision,  and 
waive  their  tokens  of  love,  so  long  as  they  can 
catch  one  glimpse  of  the  departing  sail  !  And  when 
it  has  faded  from  their  view,  with  what  heavy 
hearts  do  they  slowly  seek  their  homes  !  But  did 
you  ever  go  with  such  a  vessel  to  its  destined  port? 
Was  there  weeping  there?  Were  there  cries  of 
anguish  there  ?  As  the  vessel  hauled  up  to  the 
dock,  did  you  not  behold,  waiting,  with  warm 
welcomes,  loved  ones  who  had  gone  before?  Were 
not  eager  hands  held  out  to  press  yours  in  loving 
grasp  ?  In  the  pure  joy  of  that  hour,  were  not  all 
the  pains  of  parting  and  all  the  perils  of  the  voyage 
forgotten  ? 

Ah,  so  it  is  with  us  here.  Again  and  again  we 
go  down  to  the  dark  verge  of  eternity  to  bid  fare- 
well to  departing  friends.  But  a  little  way  on  their 
voyage  can  we  see  them.  Sitting  in  our  saddened 
homes,  we  behold  not  the  shining  ones  waiting  to 
receive  them  on  the  other  shore.  But  while  we 
weep,  they  rejoice.  Friends  for  whom  they 
mourned  have  welcomed  them  to  the  better  land. 
For  us  they  mourn  not  ;  not  because  they  have 
forgotten  us,  but  because  they  know  that  in  a  little 
while  we  too  will  join  them,  to  part  no  more. 

— R.  A,  Ber train. 

8.  Death  Inducts  us  to  true  Joy. 

(163 1.)  Let  them  fear  death,  who  do  not  fear 
sin  ;  but  let  not  God's  children  be  overmuch 
troubled  at  the  grim  face  of  that  messenger,  which 
brings  them  to  the  end  of  their  sorrow,  and  tiie 
beginning  of  their  joy.  Death  is  yours  (i  Cor.  iii. 
22),  it  is  a  part  of  the  believer's  inventory.  Is  a 
prince  afraid  to  cross  a  narrow  sea  who  shall  be 
crowned  when  he  comes  to  shore  ?  Death  to  the 
saints  shall  be  an  usher  to  bring  them  into  the  pre- 
sence of  the  King  of  glory  ;  this  puts  lilies  and  roses 
into  the  ghastly  face  of  death,  and  makes  it  look 
amiable.  Death  brings  us  to  a  crown  of  glory 
wh  ch  fades  not  away  :  the  day  of  death  is  better  to 
a  believer  than  the  day  of  his  birth  ;  death  is 
addittis  ad  gloriam  an  entrance  into  a  blessed 
eternity.  Fear  not  death,  but  rather  let  youv 
hearts  revive  when  you  think  these  rattling  wliec'.i 
of  death's  chariot  are  but  to  carry  you  home  to  an 
everlasting  kingdom.  — Watson,  1696 

(1632.)  The  safest  thing  that  a  Christian  can 
do  is  to  die.  An  Italian  made  a  chime  of  bells  for 
his  native  village.  So  sweet  was  the  chime  that  he 
took  up  his  abode  near  it.  After  awhile  war  came. 
The  Italian  was  taken  into  exile.  The  bells  were 
captured  and  were  also  taken  away.  Years  passed 
i  on.     One  day   the  Italian   exile,  in  a  row-boat,  is 


/ 


DEA  TH. 


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DEATH 


being  rowed  up  the  river  Shannon  toward  the  city 
of  Limerick,  Ireland.  As  he  comes  near  the  wharf 
the  cathedral  tower  strikes  the  chime  ;  and  lo,  it 
was  the  same  old  chime  of  bells  that  had  so,  in  other 
days,  enchanted  him.  He  recognised  them  In  a 
moment.  His  emotions  were  too  great  for  human 
endurance.  He  folded  his  arms  and  lay  back  in 
the  boat.  The  rowers  put  down  their  oars  and  tried 
to  resuscitate  him.  His  face  was  toward  the  tower. 
But  he  was  gone.  His  soul  had  gone  out  in  the 
raptures  of  that  hour.  His  life  fell  under  the  stroke 
of  the  chime  of  Limerick  Cathedral.  So  may  it  be 
with  us  when  going  up  from  this  earthly  exile  into 
the  harbour  of  our  God.  May  we  fold  our  arms  in 
peace  and  listen  ;  and,  while  the  rowers  are  taking 
us  to  anchorage,  from  turret,  and  dome,  and  palace- 
gate,  and  arch  of  eternal  victory,  may  there  come 
rippling  upon  our  soul  the  music  of  the  bells  of 
heaven.  — Tabnage, 

9.  Death  is  the  day  of  our  erpDusals. 

(1633.)  Let  thy  hope  of  heaven  master  thy  fear  of 
death.  Why  shouldst  thou  be  afraid  to  die,  who 
hopest  to  live  by  dying  !  Is  the  apprentice  afraid  of 
the  day  when  his  time  comes  out  ?  He  that  runs  a 
race,  of  coming  too  soon  to  his  goal  ?  The  pilot 
troubled  when  he  sees  his  harbour  ?  Or  the  be- 
trothed virgin  grieved  when  the  wedding  day  ap- 
proacheth  ?  Death  is  all  this  to  thee ;  when  that 
comes,  thy  indenture  expires,  and  thy  jubilee  is 
come.  Thy  race  is  run,  and  the  crown  won,  sure  to 
drop  on  thy  head  when  thy  soul  goes  out  of  thy 
body.  Thy  voyage,  how  troublesome  soever  it  was 
in  the  sailing,  is  now  happily  finished,  and  death 
doth  but  this  friendly  office  for  thee,  to  uncover  and 
open  the  ark  of  thy  body,  that  it  may  safely  land  thy 
soul  on  the  shore  of  eternity  at  thy  heavenly  Father's 
door,  yea,  in  His  sweet  embraces,  never  to  be  put 
to  sea  more.  In  a  word,  thy  Husband  is  come  for 
thee,  and  knocks  with  death's  hand  at  thy  door,  to 
come  forth  unto  Him,  that  He  may  perforin  His  pro- 
mise which  in  the  day  of  thy  betrothing  He  made  to 
thee  ;  and  thou  lovest  Him  but  little,  if  thou  art 
not  willing  to  be  at  the  trouble  of  a  remove  hance, 
for  to  enjoy  His  blissful  presence,  in  His  Father's 
royal  palace  of  heaven,  where  such  preparation  is 
made  for  thy  entertainment,  that  thou  canst  not 
know  here,  though  an  angel  were  sent  on  purpose 
to  inform  thee.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

10.  Death  brings  us  into  the  presence  of  Christ, 
and  into  the  best  society. 

(1634.)  Death  is  like  the  waggon  which  was  sent 
for  old  Jacob,  it  came  rattling  with  its  wheels,  but 
it  was  to  carry  Jacob  to  his  son  Joseph  ;  so  the 
wheels  of  death's  chariot  may  rattle,  and  make  a 
noise,  but  they  are  to  carry  a  believer  to  Christ. 
While  a  believer  is  here,  he  is  absent  from  the  Lord. 
He  lives  far  from  court,  and  cannot  see  Him  whom 
his  soul  loves  :  but  death  gives  him  a  sight  of  the 
Kingof  glory,  "in  whose  presence  is  fulness  of  joy." 
To  a  pardoned  soul,  death  is  transitus  ad  regnum  ; 
it  removes  him  to  the  place  of  bliss,  where  he  shall 
hear  the  triumphs  and  anthems  of  praise  sung  in 
the  choir  of  angels.  No  cause  hath  a  pardoned 
soul  to  fear  death  ;  what  needs  he  fear  to  have  his 
body  buried  in  the  earth,  who  hath  his  sins  buried 
in  Christ's  wounds?  What  hurt  can  death  do  to 
him  ?  It  is  but  his  ferryman  to  ferry  him  over  to 
the  lard  of  promise.  The  day  of  death  to  a  par- 
doned   foul   is   his   ascension-day   to    heaven,    his 


coronation-day,  when  Tie  shall  be  crowned  with  those 
delights  of  paradise  which  are  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory.  — Watson,  1696. 

(1635.)  Socrates,  upon  receiving  sentence  of 
death,  said,  among  other  things,  to  his  judges,  "Is 
this,  do  you  think,  no  happy  journey?  Do  you 
think  it  nothing  to  speak  with  Orpheus,  Musaeus, 
Homer,  and  Hesiod?"  — A.  F.  Russell. 

11.  To  die  is  to  sleep  in  Jesus. 

(1636.)  You  cannot  find  in  the  New  Testament 
any  of  those  hateful  representations  of  dying  which 
men  have  invented,  by  which  death  is  portrayed  as 
a  ghastly  skeleton  with  a  scythe,  or  something 
equally  revolting.  The  figures  by  which  death  is 
represented  in  the  New  Testament  are  very  dif- 
ferent.. There  are  two  of  them  which  I  think  to  be 
exquisitely  beautiful.  One  is  that  of  "falling 
asleep  in  Jesus."  When  a  little  child  has  played 
all  day  long  and  become  tired  out,  and  the  twilight 
has  sent  it  in  weariness  to  its  mother's  knee,  where 
it  thinks  it  has  come  for  more  excitement,  then, 
almost  in  the  midst  of  its  frolicking,  and  not  know- 
ing what  influence  is  creeping  over  it,  it  falls  back 
in  the  mother's  arms,  and  nestles  close  to  the 
sweetest  and  softest  couch  that  ever  cheek  pressed, 
and,  with  lengthening  breath,  sleeps  ;  and  she 
smiles  and  is  glad,  and  sits  humming  unheard  joy 
over  its  head. 

So  we  fall  asleep  in  Jesus.  We  have  played 
long  enough  at  the  games  of  life,  and  at  last  we 
feel  the  approach  of  death.  We  are  tired  out,  and 
we  lay  our  head  back  on  the  bosom  of  Christ  and 
quietly  fall  asleep.  — Backer. 

12.  To  die  is  to  go  home. 

(1637.)  A  child  at  school,  when  he  seeth  one 
riding  post  through  the  streets  as  if  he  would  run 
over  him  or  tread  upon  him,  crieth  out ;  but  when 
he  perceives  that  it  is  his  father's  man  sent  to 
bring  him  home  from  school,  all  the  fear  is  past  : 
then  he  laugheth  and  rejoiceth.  So,  whilst  men 
are  in  the  state  of  nature,  they  look  upon  death  as 
an  enemy,  as  a  spoiler,  as  one  that  would  bereave 
them  of  all  their  worldly  delights  ;  but  being  once 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  God  by  adoption,  then 
they  apprehend  death  as  their  heavenly  Father's 
man,  riding  on  the  pale  horse,  sent  to  bring  them 
home  from  a  prison  on  earth  to  a  place  of  perfect 
liberty  in  heaven.  — Lightfoot,  1602-1675. 

( 1 638. )  Death  is  but  a  going  home.  A  child  is 
away  at  school,  and  the  vacation  is  near  at 
hand  ;  and  you  may  be  sure  that  the  father  and 
mother  long  to  see  the  child  more  than  the  child 
wants  to  see  his  father  and  mother.  So,  according 
to  the  good  old  custom,  the  father  takes  the  carriage 
and  wends  his  way  to  the  school,  perhaps  with, 
perhaps  without,  intimations  to  the  child  of  his 
coming.  In  the  midst  of  his  tasks  on  the  last  day, 
the  child  is  suddenly  greeted  by  the  voice  and 
presence  of  his  father  ;  and  no  sooner  are  the  first 
salutations  exchanged  than  the  father  says,  "  Are 
your  things  ready  ?  we  go  to-morrow."  Wine  vx 
not  so  sparkling  as  the  joy  in  the  child's  heart  I 
He  can  neither  eat,  nor  sleep,  nor  play.  Th« 
thought  that  his  father  is  come,  and  that  he  iti 
going  home  to  see  his  mother,  and  brothers,  and 
sisters,  has  quite  intoxicated  him. 

By  such  glorious  images  as  this  God  is  pleased 
to  represent  our  departure  from  the  present  \\i^ 


DEATH. 


(     290    ) 


DESERTION. 


The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  shall  come  to  our  poor  old 
weather-stained  schoolhouse  in  this  world,  and  say 
to  us,   "  Come  home  !  you  are  wanted." 

— Beecher, 

(1639.)  "TTien  Abrnham  gave  up  the  ghost." 
"The  English  word  ghost,"  says  an  able  critic  and 
commentator,  "is  supposed  to  be  derived  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  'an  inmate — inhabitant — guest ' — and 
also  '  spirit.'  In  poj^ular  use  it  is  now  restricted  to 
the  latter  meaning.  But  the  primitive  idea  seems 
to  be  that  of  dismissing  the  soid  or  spirit  as  the 
guest  of  the  body."  In  this  etymological  sense  the 
reference  is  peculiarly  beautiful.  Abraham's  spirit 
— his  immortal  and  nobler  part — was  "a  guest," 
a  lodger  or  wayfarer  in  an  earthly  tent — a  perishable 
dwelling.  Its  tent-life  was  not  its  home-life.  It 
was  like  an  imprisoned  bird  longing  to  soar  away. 
And  now  the  appointed  time  has  come — the  cage  is 
opened — the  winged  tenant  goes  free.  The  tent  is 
taken  down,  pin  by  pin — rope  and  stakes  and 
canvas — and  the  "  lodger  for  the  night,"  forsaking 
the  blackened  patch  in  the  desert  — the  smoulder- 
ing a>hes  of  his  bivouac-fire — speeds  away  to  "  the 
better  country," — 

"  His  spirit  with  a  bound 
Left  its  encunib'ring  clay; 
His  teiit  at  sunrise  im  the  ground 
A  daikeii'd  ruin  lay." 

— Macduff. 

IS.  The  way  tLome  Is  not  an  untried  one. 

(1640 )  Suppose,  dear  friend,  the  thought  of  de- 
parting from  this  world  to  the  gloiy-world  should 
ever  startle  you,  let  me  remind  you  that  you  are  not 
the  first  that  ever  went  that  way.  Your  ves.sel  is  in 
the  pool,  as  it  were,  or  in  the  dock  ;  she  is  going 
out  on  her  voyage  ;  oh,  but  you  will  not  go  alone, 
nor  have  to  track  your  course  through  paths  un- 
navigated  or  unknown  before  1  When  the  Portu- 
guese captain  first  went  by  the  Cape  of  Storms  it 
was  a  venturous  voyage,  and  he  called  it  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope  when  he  had  rounded  it.  When 
Columbus  first  went  in  search  of  the  New  World, 
his  was  a  brave  spirit  that  dared  cross  the  unnavi- 
gated  Atlantic.  But  oh,  there  are  tens  of  thousands 
that  have  gone  whither  you  go.  The  Atlantic  that 
severs  us  from  Canaan  is  white  with  the  sails  of  the 
vessels  that  are  on  voyage  thither.  Fear  not,  they 
have  not  been  wrecked  ;  we  hear  good  news  of  their 
arrival  ;  there  is  good  hope  for  you.  There  are  no 
icebergs  on  the  road,  no  misis,  no  counter  currents, 
and  no  sunken  vessels  or  quicksands  ;  you  have  but 
to  cut  your  moorings,  and  with  Christ  on  board  you 
shall  be  at  your  desired  haven  at  once. 

— Spurgeon. 

14.  Clirlst  will  be  with  us  all  the  way. 

(1641,)  Where  could  you  wish  your  lives  to  be 
better  than  in  the  hand  of  the  most  wise  and  gra- 
cious God  ?  If  you  may  rest  content,  or  have  confi- 
dence in  any,  it  is  in  Him.  You  need  not  doubt  of 
His  goodness,  for  He  is  goodness  and  love  itself. 
And,  therefore,  though  you  .see  not  the  world  to 
come  that  you  are  passing  to,  yet  as  long  as  you 
know  that  you  are  in  the  hands  of  love  itself,  what 
cause  have  you  of  disquiet  or  distrust?  Moreover 
you  know  that  He  is  wise  as  well  as  good,  and  al- 
mighty as  well  as  wise ;  and,  therefore,  as  He 
meaneth  you  no  harm  (if  you  are  His  children),  so 
He  will  not  mistake,  nor  fail  in  the  performance. 
Vou  need  not  fear,  lest  your  happine^   should  mis- 


carry for  want  of  skill  in  Him  that  is  omniscient, 
or  for  want  of  will  in  Him  that  is  your  Father,  not 
for  want  cf  power  in  Him  that  is  omnipotent.  You 
may  far  better  trust  God  with  your  lives  than  your- 
selves, for  you  have  not  wisdom  enough  to  know 
what  is  best  for  you,  nor  skill  to  accomplish  it,  nor 
power  to  go  tlirough  with  it  ;  nay,  you  love  not 
yourselves  so  well  as  God  doth  love  you.  Did  you 
but  believe  this,  you  would  better  trust  Him.  You 
can  trust  yourself  in  a  narrow  ship  upon  the  wide 
and  raging  seas,  when  you  never  saw  the  country 
that  you  are  going  to  ;  and  all  because  you  believe 
that  the  voyage  is  for  your  commodity,  and  that  you 
have  a  skilful  pilot.  And  cannot  you  commend 
your  souls  into  the  hands  of  God,  to  convey  you 
through  death  to  the  invisible  glory,  as  confidently 
as  you  dare  commit  your  lives  to  the  conduct  of  a 
man,  and  to  a  tottering  ship  in  the  hazardous 
ocean?  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

15.  He  who  has  given  grace  to  live  will  give 
grace  to  die. 

(1642.)  Such  as  have  had  no  joy  in  their  life- 
time, God  puts  in  this  sugar  in  the  bottom  of  the 
cup,  to  make  their  death  sweet.  Now,  at  the  last 
hour,  when  all  other  comforts  are  gone,  God  sends 
the  Comforter  ;  and  when  their  appetite  for  meat 
fails,  God  feeds  them  with  hidden  manna.  Sure, 
as  the  wicked,  before  they  die,  have  some  appre- 
hensions of  hell  and  wrath  in  their  conscience  ;  so 
the  godly  have  some  foretastes  of  God's  everlasting 
favour,  though  sometimes  their  diseases  may  be 
such,  and  their  animal  spirits  so  oppressed,  that 
they  cannot  express  what  they  feel.  Jacob  laid 
himself  to  sleep  on  a  stone,  where  he  saw  a  vision — - 
a  ladder,  and  the  angels  ascending  and  descending  ; 
so,  when  the  saints  lay  themselves  down  to  sleep 
the  sleep  of  death,  they  have  often  a  vision  :  they 
see  the  light  of  God's  face,  and  have  the  evidences 
of  His  love  sealed  up  to  them  for  ever. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(1643.)  Our  view  of  death  will  not  always  be 
alike,  but  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  is  pleased  to  communicate  His  sensible 
influence.  We  may  anticipate  the  moment  of  dis- 
solution with  pleasure  and  desire  in  the  morning, 
and  be  ready  to  shrink  from  the  thought  of  it  before 
night.  But  though  our  frames  and  perceptions 
vary,  the  report  of  faith  concerning  it  is  the  same. 
The  Lord  usually  reserves  dying  strength  for  a  dying 
hour.  When  Israel  was  to  pass  Jordan,  the  ark 
was  in  the  river  ;  and  though  the  rear  of  the  host 
could  not  see  it,  yet  as  they  successively  came  for- 
ward and  approached  the  banks,  they  all  beheld  the 
ark,  and  all  went  safely  over.  As  you  are  not  weary 
of  living,  if  it  be  the  Lord's  pleasure,  so  I  hope  for 
the  sake  of  your  friends  and  the  people  whom  you 
love,  He  will  spare  you  amongst  us  a  little  longer  ; 
but  when  the  time  shall  arrive  which  He  has  ap- 
pointed for  your  dismission,  I  make  no  doubt  but 
He  will  overpower  all  your  fears,  silence  all  your 
enemies,  and  give  you  a  comfortable,  triumphant 
entrance  into  His  kingdom. 

—Newton,  1 725-1807. 


DESERTION. 

1.  Its  cause. 

(1644.)   In  common  conversation,  we  frequently 
speak   of  solar  eclipses.     But   what   is   called    an 


DESERTION. 


(    291    ) 


DESERTION. 


eclipse  of  the  sun  is,  in  fact,  an  eclipse  of  the  earth, 
occasioned  by  the  moon's  interference  or  transit 
between  the  sun  and  us.  This  circumstance  makes 
no  aheration  in  the  sun  itself,  but  only  intercepts 
our  view  of  it  for  a  time.  From  wlience  does 
darkness  of  soul,  even  darkness  that  may  be  felt, 
usually  originate?  Never  Irom  any  cliangeableness 
In  our  covenant  God,  the  glory  of  whose  unvarying 
faithfulness  and  love  shines  the  same,  andean  suffer 
no  eclipse.  It  is  when  the  world,  with  its  fascinat- 
ing honours,  or  wealth,  or  pleasures,  gets  between 
our  Lord  and  us,  that  the  light  of  His  countenance 
is  obstructed,  and  our  rejoicing  in  Him  suffers  a 
temporary  eclipse.  — Salter. 

2.  Its  design. 

(1645.)  The  nurse  goeth  aside  from  the  child  to 
teach  it  to  find  its  feet  and  see  how  it  will  go  alone  ; 
the  eagle  when  her  young  ones  are  fledged,  turneth 
them  out  of  the  nest,  not  bearing  them  on  her  wings, 
as  at  other  times  slie  was  wont  to  do,  but  that  she 
may  inure  them  to  fly,  flieth  from  them  and  leaveth 
tliem  to  shift  for  themselves.  Thus  God  seems  to 
withdraw  Himself  from  His  children,  to  exercise 
those  excellent  graces  of  patience  and  confidence  in 
Him,  that,  like  tapers,  burn  clearest  in  the  dark  ; 
to  teach  them  to  swim  without  blailders,  and  to  go 
without  crutches  ;  as  not  to  trust  in  themselves,  so  not 
to  trust  in  the  means,  but  in  Him  that  worketh  by 
them,  and  can  work  as  well  for  them  without  them 
when  they  fail.  — Basil  Seltuidie,  382. 

(1646.)  A  father  solacing  himself  with  his  little 
child,  and  deligliting  in  its  pretty  and  pleasing  be- 
haviour, is  wont  sometimes  to  step  aside  into  a  cor- 
ner or  beiiind  a  door,  on  purpose  to  quicken  yet 
more  its  love  and  longing  after  him,  and  try  the 
impatiency  and  eagerness  of  its  affections.  In  the 
meantime  he  hears  it  cry,  run  about,  and  call  upon 
him,  and  yet  he  stirs  not,  but  forbears  to  appear ;  not 
for  want  of  compassion  and  kindness,  which  the 
more  it  grieves  the  more  abounds  ;  but  that  it  may 
prize  more  dearly  the  father's  presence,  that  they 
may  meet  more  merrily,  and  rejoice  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  each  other  more  heartily.  Conceive,  then, 
and  consider  to  thine  own  exceeding  comfort,  that 
thy  Heavenly  Father  deals  just  so  with  thee  in  a 
spiritual  desertion.  He  sometimes  hides  His  face 
from  thee,  and  withdraws  His  quickening  and  re- 
freshing presence  for  a  time,  not  for  want  of  love, 
for  He  loves  thee  freely;  He  loves  thee  with  an 
everlasting  love  ;  He  loves  thee  with  the  very  same 
love  with  which  He  loves  Jesus  Christ  ;  and  that 
dear  Son  of  His  loves  thee  with  the  same  love  His 
Father  loves  Him  ;  hut  to  put  more  heat  and  life 
in  thine  affections  towards  Him  and  heavenly  things; 
to  cause  thee  to  relish  communion  with  Jesus 
Chiist,  when  thou  enjoyest  it,  more  sweetly  ;  to 
praserve  it  more  carefully,  to  joy  in  it  more  thank- 
fully, and  to  shun  more  watchfully  whatsoever 
might  rob  thee  of  it  ;  to  stir  up  all  the  powers  of 
thy  soul,  and  all  the  graces  of  Cjod  in  thee,  to  seek 
His  face  and  favour  again  with  more  extraordinary 
and  universal  seriousness  and  industry.  For  we 
find  with  pleasure,  possess  with  singular  content- 
ment, and  keep  with  special  care,  what  we  have 
sought  with  pain. 

Desertions,  then,  and  delays  of  this  nature  are 
fruits  of  thy  Heavenly  Father's  love,  and  ought  to 
be  nc  discouragements  to  thee  at  all,  holding  thy 
integrity.  — Bolton,  1572-1631. 


(1647.)  The  gardener  digs  up  his  garden,  pulls 
up  his  fences,  takes  up  his  plants,  and,  to  the  eye, 
seems  to  make  a  pleasant  place  as  a  waste  piece  of 
ground  ;  but  every  intelligent  man  knows  that  he 
is  about  to  mend  it,  not  to  mar  it — to  plant  it  better, 
not  to  destroy  it.  So  God  is  comfortably  present 
with  us,  even  in  our  spiritual  desertions  ;  and 
though  He  seems  to  annihilate  or  to  reduce  His  new 
creation,  yet  it  is  to  repair  its  ruins  and  to  make  it 
more  beautiful  and  glorious.  Or,  as  in  the  rep.iir- 
ing  of  a  house,  we  see  how  they  pull  down  part 
after  part,  as  if  they  intended  to  demolish  it  quite, 
but  the  end  is  to  make  it  better  :  so,  though  God 
take  away  our  props,  it  is  not  that  we  may  fall,  but 
that  He  may  settle  us  in  greater  strength.  He 
batters  down  the  life  of  sense  to  put  us  u]-)on  a  life 
of  grace  ;  and  when  He  darkens  our  light  that  we 
cannot  see,  it  is  but  to  bring  in  fuller  light  into  our 
souls  ;  as  when  a  star  shines  not,  the  sun  appears, 
repairing  our  loss  of  an  obscure  light  with  his  clear 
bright  shining  beams  :  so,  though  God  do  forsake 
His  people,  yet  it  is  not  to'.ally,  not  for  ever,  not 
ceasing  the  affection  of  love,  but  the  acts  of  love  for 
some  time,  and  when  He  seems  to  be  turning  a  man 
into  a  desolate  and  ruinous  condition,  yet  even  then 
He  is  building  and  preparing  him  to  be  a  more 
excellent  structure.  — Symonds,  1658, 

(1648.)  When  children  begin  to  go  they  use  to 
be  so  well  conceited  of  the  strength  of  their  legs 
that  they  need  not  any  help  of  their  nurse.  To  let 
them  see  their  folly  the  nurse  will  leave  them  to 
themselves,  that  so,  smarting  by  a  fall,  they  may 
better  be  brought  to  find  what  need  they  have  of 
their  nurse.  The  best  of  us  all  are  but  babes  in 
grace,  yet  do  we  think  that  we  can  stand  of  our- 
selves ;  yea,  and  run  the  ways  of  God  too.  Now, 
God  doth  refute  us  by  our  own  experience,  and  by 
this  mistress  of  fools  makes  us  better  known  to  our- 
selves ;  but  though  He  leaves  us  for  a  time,  yet  doth 
He  not  forsake  us  for  ever,  no  more  than  a  nurse 
doth  the  weakling  child.  She  maketh  use  of  one 
fall  to  keep  the  child  from  many,  and  God  doth 
make  use  of  our  sinning  to  make  us  see  how  prone 
we  are  to  sin,  and  so  prevent  us  for  the  future. 

— Light/oot,  1 602- 1 675. 

3.  Not  to  be  hastily  assumed. 

(164Q.)  "Will  the  Lord  absent  Himself  forever, 
and  will  He  show  no  more  favour?  is  His  mercy 
gone  clean  for  ever?  does  His  promise  fail  for  ever? 
Has  God  forgotten  to  be  merciful  ?  Has  he  shut 
up  His  tender  mercies  wholly  in  displeasure?  And 
I  said  this  is  my  death,  &c."  Thus  do  the  faithful 
cry  out  and  complain,  as  if  they  were  both  without 
faith  and  feeling  of  any  favour  of  God  ;  and  yet  in 
all  these  distresses  God  is  not  absent  from  them, 
neither  has  forgotten  them.  Some  diseases  of  the 
body  are  so  forcible  and  violent,  that  they  seem  to 
have  taken  away  all  life  and  to  have  brought  present 
death,  yet  afterwards  there  is  a  recovery  contrary  to 
the  feeling  of  the  person  and  judgment  of  the 
beholders ;  thus  stands  the  case  with  many  dear 
servants  of  God,  who  in  the  extremity  of  affliction 
and  brunt  of  temptation  seem  to  themselves  and  to 
others  to  have  utterly  lost  the  life  of  faith,  and  light 
of  grace,  which  in  former  times  they  have  felt  and 
enjoyed.  The  trees  in  winter  seem  to  be  dead  ; 
but  when  spring  approaches,  they  show  by  lovely 
effects  that  they  had  life  in  them.  The  hour  of 
temptation  with  the  faithful  is  the  time  of  winter. 


DESERTION, 


(     29a    ) 


DESERTION. 


they  seem  benumbed  for  a  short  season  ;  but  as 
they  gather  strength,  and  faith  begins  to  spring  up, 
they  shall  find  and  feel  a  present  operation  of  un- 
speakable comfort.  — AiUrsol,  1618. 

(1650.)  If  we  be  in  such  darkness,  let  us  not 
trust  to  our  own  judgment,  but  let  us  trust  the 
judgment  of  others.  Oftentimes  others  know  more 
by  us  than  we  by  ourselves.  We  ought  to  yield 
much  to  the  discerning  of  Christians  in  this  kind. 
It  is  an  easy  matter  when  all  things  go  well  with  us, 
to  have  comfort  and  to  be  fruitiul  ;  but  when  we 
are  in  our  dumps,  and  in  the  hour  of  temptation, 
then  it  is  not  so  easy.  When  a  tree  bears  a  great 
deal  of  fruit,  and  abounds  with  leaves,  it  is  an  easy 
matter  to  say,  this  is  a  fruitful  tree;  but  when  in 
winter  the  sap  falls  to  the  root,  is  covered  with 
snow  and  frost,  the  leaves  shaken  off,  and  the  root 
that  is  unseen  lies  hid,  then  it  requires  some  judg- 
ment and  former  experience  to  say,  This  tree  has 
life,  and  is  fruitful,  though  now  there  appears  none. 
•  So  a  Christian  may  be  in  such  an  estate,  that  he 
requires  the  judgment  of  some  others  to  look  upon 
him.  When  in  such  a  case,  he  must  go  to  former 
times,  for  God's  love  is  constant,  always  like 
Himself.  And  go  to  the  secret  working  of  grace  ; 
when  outwardly  there  appears  little,  go  to  the 
pulses.  As  if  we  would  know  whether  a  man  who 
is  in  a  swoon  has  life  and  breath,  we  go  to  feel  the 
pulses  to  see  if  there  be  any  breath  remaining  ;  so 
in  a  case  of  desertion,  or  seeming  deadness  of  spirit, 
try  which  way  the  soul  goes  in  the  desires  of  it. 
Is  there  not  a  desire  to  please  God  ?  Are  there  not 
groans  and  endeavours  witli  those  desires?  Are 
not  these  desires  restless,  and  thy  soul  unsatisfied  ? 
Thou  dost  not  content  thyself  with  a  little  faith,  but 
thou  desirest  more  and  more,  and  thou  art  ashamed 
because  thou  hast  so  little.  This  is  the  pulse's  beat- 
ing, and  the  breathing  of  a  living  soul.  Yield  not 
to  Satan  who  tells  thee  there  is  no  ground  for  thee 
to  be  assured  of  thy  estate.  Where  we  find  these 
evidences  of  a  living  soul,  we  ought  to  believe  there 
is  true  life  there  ;  which  I  speak  to  those,  who, 
without  cause,  are  carried  to  doubt  of  their  estates. 
—Sidies,  1 577-1635. 

(1651.)  When  T  see  my  Saviour  hanging  in  so 
forlorn  a  fashion  upon  the  cross  ;  His  head  droop- 
ing down,  His  temples  bleeding  with  thorns.  His 
hands  and  feet  with  the  nails,  and  His  side  with 
the  spear;  His  enemies  round  about  Him,  mock- 
ing at  His  shame,  and  insulting  over  His  impo- 
tence :  how  should  I  think  any  otherwise  of  Him, 
than,  as  Himself  complaineth  forsaken  of  His 
Father?  But,  when  again  I  turn  mine  eyes,  and 
see  the  sun  darkened,  the  earth  quaking,  the  rocks 
rent,  the  graves  opened,  the  thief  confessing  to 
give  witness  to  His  Deity  ;  and  when  I  see  so 
strong  a  guard  of  providence  over  Him,  that  all 
His  malicious  enemies  are  not  able  so  much  as  to 
break  one  bone  of  that  body,  which  seemed 
carelessly  neglected  :  I  cannot  but  wonder  at  His 
glory  and  safety.  God  is  ever  near,  though  oft 
unseen  ;  and,  if  He  wink  at  our  distress.  He 
sleepeth  not.  The  sense  of  others  must  not  be 
judges  of  His  presence  and  care  ;  but  our  faith. 
What  care  I,  if  the  world  give  me  up  for  miserable, 
while  I  am  under  His  secret  protection?  O  Lord, 
since  Thou  art  strong  in  our  weakness,  and  present 
in    our  senseiessness,   give  but   as    much  comfort 


in  my  sorrow,  as  Thou  givest  me  security,  and  tt 
my  worst  I  shall  be  well. 

— //a//,  1 574-1656 

(1652.)  Did  you  ever  read  that  Christ  did  finally 
forsake  a  man  in  whose  heart  and  soul  He  still  did 
leave  His  goods,  furniture,  and  spiritual  household 
stufi?  A  man  sometimes  goes  from  home,  and 
sometimes  He  does  not  quite  leave  his  house. 
There  is  much  diflerence  between  those  two.  If  a 
man  leave  his  house  and  comes  no  more,  then  he 
carries  away  all  his  goods  ;  and  when  ye  see  them 
carried  away,  ye  say,  This  man  will  come  no  more. 
But  though  a  man  ride  a  great  journey,  yet  he  may 
come  again;  and  ye  say,  "Surely  he  will  come 
again. "  Why  ?  Because  still  his  goods,  wife,  and 
children  are  in  his  house.  So  if  Christ  reject  a 
man  and  go  away  finally.  He  carries  away  all  His 
goods,  spiritual  gifts,  graces,  and  principles.  Bat 
though  He  be  long  absent,  yet  if  liis  household 
stuff  abide  in  the  heart, — if  there  be  the  same 
desires  after  Him,  and  delight  in  Him,  and  admir- 
ing of  Him, — ye  may  say,  ".Surely,  He  will  come 
again."  Why?  Because  His  household  stuff  is 
here  still.  When  did  Christ  ever  forsake  a  man  in 
whose  heart  He  left  this  spiritual  furniture  ? 

— Bridge,  i6oo-i67a 

(1653.)  A  man's  heart  is  like  those  two-faced 
pictures  :  if  you  look  towards  one  side  of  them, 
you  shall  see  nothing  but  some  horrid  shape  of  a 
devil,  or  the  like  ;  but  go  to  the  other  side,  and 
you  shall  see  the  picture  of  an  angel,  or  of  soirte 
beautiful  woman,  &c.  So  some  have  looked  ovei 
their  hearts  by  signs  at  one  time,  and  have  to  their 
thinking  found  nothing  but  hypocrisy,  unbelief, 
hardness,  self-seeking  ;  but  not  long  after,  examin- 
ing their  hearts  again  by  the  same  signs,  they  have 
espied  the  image  of  God  drawn  fairly  upon  the 
table  of  their  hearts.  — Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(1654.)  There  is  a  large  class  who  would  con- 
found nature  and  grace.  These  are  chiefly  women. 
They  sit  at  home,  nursing  themselves  over  a  fire, 
and  then  trace  up  the  natural  effects  of  solitude  and 
want  of  air  and  exercise  into  spiritual  desertion. 
There  is  more  pride  in  this  than  they  are  aware  of. 
They  are  unwilling  to  allow  so  simple  and  natural 
a  cause  of  their  feelings,  and  wish  to  find  some 
thing  in  the  thing  more  sublime.  — Cecil. 

4.  Terrlbleness  of  the  calamity. 

(1655.)  When  the  king  removes,  the  court  and 
all  the  carriages  follow  after,  and  when  they  are 
gone,  the  hangings  are  taken  down  ;  nothing  is  left 
behind  but  bare  walls,  dust,  and  rubbish.  So,  if 
Ciod  removes  from  a  man  or  a  nation,  where  He 
kept  His  court,  liis  graces  will  not  stay  behind  ; 
and  if  they  be  gone,  farewell  peace,  farewell 
comfort  :  down  goes  the  hangings  of  all  prosperity, 
nothing  is  left  behind  but  confusion  and  disorder. 
— Stanchion,  1628. 

6.  Encouragements  for  the  desponding. 

(1656.)  God  being  a  Father,  if  He  hide  His  face 
from  His  child,  it  is  in  love.  Desertion  is  s.ad  in 
itself,  a  short  hell  (Job  vi.  9).  When  the  light  is 
withdrawn,  dew  falls.  Yet  we  may  see  a  rainbow 
in  the  cloud,  the  love  of  a  Father  in  all  this. 

Firstly,  God  hereby  quickens  grace.  Perhaps 
grace  lay  dormant  (Cant.  v.  2).  It  was  as  fire  in 
the   members ;    and    God    withdraws    comfort,    to 


DESERTION. 


(     293     ) 


DEVIL.     THE 


invigorate  and  exercise  grace  :  faith  is  a  grace  that 
sometimes  siiines  brigiitest  in  the  dark  night  of 
desertion  (Jonah  ii.  4). 

Secondly,  When  God  hides  His  face  from  His 
child,  yet  still  He  is  a  Father,  and  His  heart  is  to- 
wards His  child  :  as  Joseph,  when  he  spake 
roughly  to  his  brethren,  and  made  them  believe  he 
would  take  them  for  spies  ;  still  his  heart  was  full 
of  love,  and  he  was  fain  to  go  aside  and  weep  :  so 
God's  bowels  yearn  to  His  children,  when  He 
seems  to  look  strange.  "In  a  little  wrath  I  hid 
My  face  from  thee,  but  with  everlasting  kindness 
will  1  have  mercy  on  thee."  Though  God  may 
have  the  look  of  an  enemy,  yet  still  He  hath  the 
heart  of  a  father.  — Watson,  xd^d. 

(1657.)  Sometimes  God  takes  away  from  a  Chris- 
tian His  comforting  presence,  but  He  never  takes 
from  a  Christian  His  sustaining  presence.  You 
know  the  difference  between  sunshine  and  daylight. 
We  have  often  daylight,  but  little  sunlight.  A 
Christinn  has  God's  daylight  in  his  soul  when  he 
may  not  have  sunlight  ;  that  is,  he  has  enough  to 
light  him,  but  not  enough  to  cheer  and  comfort 
him.  Never  was  Jesus  so  forsaken  by  God's  com- 
forting presence  as  when  He  said,  "  My  God,  My 
God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  Me?"  and  yet, 
never  was  He  so  strengthened  by  God's  sustaining 
presence,  for  angels  were  at  His  service  to  minister 
to  Him  and  to  take  care  of  Him  if  He  needed  their 
ministry.  — Cumming. 

6.  The  only  consolation. 

(1658.)  All  the  world  does  them  no  good  without 
the  favour  of  God.  As  all  the  stars  though  they 
shine  together,  do  not  dispel  the  daikness  of  night  ; 
so  no  creatures  can  comfort  us  sufficiently  when 
God  hides  His  face.  "Thou  didst  hide  Thy  face 
and  I  was  troubled."  They  cannot  find  God  as 
they  were  wont.  As  at  funeral  feasts,  dear  friends 
have  little  comfort  when  they  miss  their  old  friend 
that  was  wont  to  bid  them  welcome  at  the  house  ; 
so  when  God  is  gone,  what  comfort  can  they  take 
in  their  portion  ?  Many  will  say.  Why  are  you 
pensive  and  sad  ?  you  have  a  great  many  friends,  a 
great  estate.  Oh,  you  do  not  know  the  wound  of 
a  gracious  heart,  and  how  little  these  things  are  in 
comparison  of  the  favour  of  God. 

— Manton,  1 620- 1667. 

(1659.)  The  wounds  of  conscience  which  are  in 
God's  people  are  of  the  quality  that  none  but  God 
can  cure  them  ;  for  the  chief  thing  that  wounds 
them  is  the  loss  of  God's  favour,  not  simply  His 
wrath.  For  it  is  the  glory  of  God  and  His  favour, 
not  self-love  only,  that  makes  them  seek  Him ; 
therefore  nothing  gives  peace  but  the  restoring  of 
His  favour  and  the  light  of  His  countenance  ;  the 
same  dart  that  wounded  must  heal  again  :  "  I  smote 
him,  and  I  will  heal  him."  And  as  one  that  is  sick 
with  love,  when  love  is  the  disease,  no  physic,  no 
persuasion  of  friends  can  cure  it,  nothing  but  only 
the  love  of  the  party  beloved  ;  so  when  a  soul  is 
wounded  for  the  loss  of  God's  love,  not  all  the 
things  in  the  world  can  cure  the  heart  ;  but  one 
*'ord  from  Him,  one  good  look,  one  promise  from 
Him  that  we  are  His,  stills  all  and  only  can  give 
peace.  Like  to  a  poor  child  that  cries  for  its 
nether  ;  let  who  will  dandle  it,  and  play  with  it, 
luid  use  l*  rever  so  Undly,  yet  it  will  not  be  stilled 


till  the  mother  comes  ;  so  it  is  with  a  poor  soul  that 
cries  after  God  day  and  night. 

— Goodwin,  1600-1679. 


DEVIL.  THE 

1.  His  existence  not  Incredible. 

(1660.)  No  man  acquainted  with  men  r.eed  have 
any  philosophical  scruple  in  believing  in  the  exist- 
ence of  evil  spirits.  If  there  are  any  spirits  worse 
than  some  men,  I  am  sorry  for  them  !  No  man 
who  watches  what  men  do  to  each  other  need  have 
any  scruple  as  to  the  belief  that  evil  spirits  are 
occupied  in  tempting  men.  We  can  conceive  of 
nothing  done  by  a  spirit,  in  the  way  of  malignant 
temptation,  that  is  worse  than  that  which  we  see 
every  day  among  living  men.  And  those  who 
doubt  whether  a  benevolent  God  would  allow  a 
malign  spirit  to  tempt  His  creatures,  surely  must 
have  lived  with  their  eyes  shut.  The  question  is 
settled  in  every  street,  that  God  does  allow  men  to 
live,  whose  business  seems  to  be  very  largely  that 
of  pleasing  themselves  by  injuring  others.  Those 
who  have  doubts  on  this  subject  cannot  have  con- 
sidered the  indisputable  fact,  that  God  does  allow 
bad  spirits  in  the  flesh  to  tempt  men  to  evil.  Noi 
do  I  know  why  there  should  be  any  reason  to 
suppose  that  He  does  not  allow  bad  spirits  out  of 
the  flesh  to  do  the  same  thing.  — Beecher. 

(1661.)  We  find  upon  self-inspection,  that  our 
temptations,  though  manilold  and  enigmatical,  evi- 
denily  arise  from  three  distinct  sources,  and  are 
of  three  distinct  kinds.  There  are  temptations  from 
the  world  :  all  know  what  they  are,  and  have  ex- 
perienced them.  There  are  also  temptations  from 
the  flesh.  Between  the  two  classes  we  can  easily 
distinguish.  There  is  also  a  third  class,  which, 
upon  strict  analysis,  appears  to  difier  entirely  from 
those  of  the  world  and  the  flesh.  Who  has  not 
been  startled  at  times  with  those  evil  suggestions 
which  flash  into  the  soul  without  apparent  cause  or 
connection,  let  fly  against  us  like  burning  arrows 
from  an  unseen  hand  ?  They  are  "  fiery  darts,"  as 
the  Apostle  forcibly  calls  them.  Good  men  have 
confessed  that  without  the  slightest  reason,  and 
from  no  recognised  agency,  they  have  felt  of  a  sud- 
den an  impulse  to  commit  the  most  horrid  crimes 
ever  perpetrated.  Tliey  would  tempt  and  ruin 
some  victim,  strike  some  fatal  blow,  or  leap  from 
some  precipice  upon  tlie  rocks,  or  into  the  sea. 
How  mortifying,  how  humiliating,  for  a  pure  heart 
to  encounter  such  experiences  !  It  is  some  relief  to 
feel  that  we  are  not  the  sole  cause  of  their  existence  ; 
that  we  are  not  so  bad  as  the  instigation  would  lead 
us  to  think  we  are  ;  and  that,  when  we  drown  or 
quench  these  darts  of  fire,  no  harm  will  befall  us. 
The  question  recurs,  whence  this  peculiar  form  or 
style  of  temptation — these  depressions  that  corae 
upon  us  when  we  have  done  the  best  and  have  the 
least  occasion  for  them  ?  The  hardness  of  hear;, 
the  restlessness  of  aim  and  purpose,  these  and  other 
evil  suggestions,  have  they  no  cause  ?  Are  these 
the  forms  of  temptation  which  ordinarily  come  to  us 
from  the  world  and  the  flesh  ?  Every  thinking  man, 
in  accounting  for  such  personal  experiences,  feels 
that  it  is  folly  t  ■  have  recourse  to  abstraction.  It 
is  a  pigmy  philosophy  which  does  not  recognise  in 
them  a  producing  evil  force,  or  which  attempts  to 
ignore  their  existence  altogether.  The  tempest 
that  springs  suddenly  out  of  a  dead  calm,  tearing 


DEVIL.    THE 


(    »94    ) 


DEVIL.     THE 


tTie  se3  from  its  foundations,  and  flinging  it  against 
the  skies,  must  have  a  powerful  cause  soinewhere  ; 
seen  or  unseen,  a  cause  there  must  be.  The  fright- 
ful heaving  of  a  burning  volcano  must  be  produced 
by  an  existing  force.  So  also  must  this  spiritual 
earthquake,  this  frightful  sea  of  evil  passions,  which 
fcurges  about  and  sometimes  threatens  to  engulf  us, 
be  produced  by  a  pijwer  not  figurative,  but  literal. 
Actual  force  in  a  living  spirit,  as  the  psychological 
root,  becomes  an  absolute  necessity, 

—  Townsend, 

S.  "  The  prince  of  tbe  power  of  the  air." 

(1662.)  One  thing  is  perfectly  clear  from  this 
passage  (l.ph.  ii.  2.),  that  these  extra-terrestrial 
beings  form  "a  power."  Undoubtedly  each  one  of 
them  has  his  own  distinct  personality  and  individu- 
ality ;  but,  in  their  peculiar  aspects  towards  man, 
they  collectively  constitute  "a  power."  Fifty 
thousand  men  standing  on  a  plain  do  not  necessarily 
constitute  an  army.  They  may  be  only  a  crowd, 
an  assemblage  of  so  many  separate  bodies. 

Many  things  are  necessary  before  they  can  become 
an  army.  Every  man  among  them  must  be  drilled  ; 
every  man  must  be  taught  subordination  ;  every  man 
must  be  equipped  with  weapons,  and  must  know 
not  only  how  to  use  them,  but  he  must  know  to 
fire  his  musket  without  shooting  his  comrades 
instead  of  the  enemy.  When  all  this  is  done,  the 
fifty  thousand  men  become  an  army  ;  but  even  then 
they  are  not  a  "  power." 

Before  this  can  be,  there  must  be  a  head,  a  con- 
trolling mind,  to  direct  all  this  force,  and  to  com- 
bine the  separate  energies  of  all  in  one  grand 
plan. 

In  this  view,  Satan  is,  "the  prince  of  the  power 
of  the  air."  These  dark  hosts  are  un<ler  his  direc- 
tion. Under  him  they  can  act  together,  they  can 
concentrate  their  energies  in  one  object.  Probably 
their  misery  and  their  ceaseless  mutual  recrimina- 
tions would  render  them  powerless  for  any  under- 
taking except  that  of  tormenting  one  another,  or  of 
blaspheming  God,  were  it  not  for  the  superior  energy 
of  their  prince,  who  guides  their  actions,  and  infuses 
a  pressure  of  his  own  energy  into  their  otherwise 
helpless  and  despairing  ranks.  The  organisation  of 
the  Jesuits,  where  we  see  displayed  such  complete 
abnegation  of  self,  such  deliberate  submission  of 
the  individual  judgment  to  the  orders  of  their  chief, 
such  concentration  of  information,  such  profound 
secrecy  and  clever  deceit,  such  power  of  communi- 
cating the  superior's  will  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
as  certainly  as  pulsation  is  communicated  to  the 
extremities  of  the  botly,  may  help  us  to  form  some 
conception  of  the  dominion  exercised  by  "the 
prince  of  the  power  of  the  air  :  "  only,  instead  of  hun- 
dreds of  agents,  we  must  conceive  of  millions 
instead  of  sluggish  human  bodies  active  spiritual 
beings  ;  instead  of  a  station  here  and  there,  an 
organisation  as  widely  extended  as  humanity,  not 
forgetting  even  the  ship's  crew  on  the  distant  and 
lonely  sea  ;  instead  of  the  infirm  and  erring  judg- 
ment of  a  human  chief,  the  high  and  acute  intelli- 
gence of  one  who  was  formerly  "son  of  the  morn- 
ing," and  a  prince  among  the  blessed  angels. 

— L.  II.  Il'isd7nan. 

%.  In  what  sense  he  is  "  the  grod  of  this  world.* 

(1663.)  Satan  obtained  the  world  by  conquest ; 
but  conquest  is  a  cracked  title.  A  thief  is  not  the 
more  honest  because  he  was  able  to  force  the  poor 


traveller  to  deliver  his  purse  ;  and  a  thief  on  the 
throne,  like  Satan,  is  no  better  than  a  private  one 
on  the  roiid.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

4.  Is  neither  omniscient  nor  omnipotent. 

(1664.)  It  must  have  occurred  to  every  thoughtful 
reader  of  the  Hible,  that  the  passages  in  which  the 
inferior  demons  are  mentioned  are  very  few  in  com- 
parison of  those  in  which  their  chief,  Satan,  is  named. 
We  are  not  to  infer  from  this  that  they  take  an  un- 
important part  in  extending  the  empire  of  evil  ;  any 
more  than  when  reading  that  Cromwell  defeated 
the  Royalists  at  Marston  Moor,  or  that  Nelson 
routed  the  combined  fleet  at  Trafalgar,  we  infer  that 
the  soldiers  of  the  one,  or  the  ships  of  the  other, 
took  an  unimportant  part  in  the  battle. 

It  is  needful  to  be  aware  of  this,  lest  we  uncon- 
sciously attribute  to  the  devil  powers  approaching 
very  nearly  to  omniscience  or  omnipresence.  Satan 
may  be  able  to  move  as  rapidly  as  the  electricity 
along  the  telegraphic  wire,  but  he  cannot  be  in  more 
than  one  place  at  the  same  instant.  Neither  can 
he  know  everything,  or  do  everything. 

— L.  H.  Wiseman. 

6.  His  discernment  of  our  thoughts. 

(1665.)  An  angler,  having  baited  his  hook,  throws 
it  into  the  water  :  the  fish,  having  espied  the  bait, 
after  two  or  three  vagaries  about  it,  nibbles  at  it, 
and  after  awhile  swallows  down  the  bait,  hook,  and 
all.  The  fisher  sees  none  of  all  this  ;  but,  by  th« 
sinking  of  the  cork,  he  knows  that  the  fish  is  taken. 
Thus,  the  devil,  though  a  most  cunning  angler, 
knows  not  the  thoughts  of  men,  such  as  are  mere 
pure  thoughts  :  that  is  God's  peculiar  ;  it  is  He  that 
searcheth  the  heart  and  trielh  the  reins  :  but  if  we 
write  or  speak,  if  the  cork  do  but  stir,  if  our  coun- 
tenance do  but  change,  he  is  of  such  perspicuity, 
and  so  well  experienced  withal,  that  he  will  soon 
know  what  our  thoughts  are,  and  suit  his  tempta- 
tions accordingly.  — Iloidsworth,  i68o. 

6.  Our  adversary. 

(1666.)  Let  us  watch  Satan,  for  he  watcheth  us. 
There  is  no  corporeal  enemy,  but  a  man  naturally 
fears  ;  the  spiritual  foe  appears  less  terrible,  because 
we  are  less  sensible  of  him.  Great  conquerors  have 
been  chronicled  for  victories  and  extension  of  their 
kingdoms  ;  Satan  is  beyond  them  all.  Saul  has 
slain  his  thousands,  and  David  his  ten  thousands  ; 
but  Satan  his  millions.  He  that  fights  with  an 
enemy,  whom  nothing  but  his  blood  can  pacify, 
will  give  him  no  advantage.  — Adaiiis^  ^653. 

7 .  Our  accuser. 

(1667.)  If  we  know  that  we  have  an  adversary  at 
the  next  door,  that  pries  into  all  our  courses,  and 
ujjon  the  least  error  will  sue  us  on  an  action  of 
trespass,  we  will  be  circumspect  to  disable  him  of 
advantage.  Satan  no  sooner  spies  our  wanderings, 
but  he  presently  runs  with  a  complaint  to  God, 
bills  against  us  in  the  star-chamber  of  heaven ; 
where  the  matter  would  go  hard  with  us,  but  for 
the  great  Lord  Chancellor  of  peace,  our  Advocate 
Jesus  Christ.  — Adams,  1653. 

8.  His  craft. 

(1668.)  Even  as  the  fisher,  when  he  taketh  soma 

great  fish,  doth  not  by  and  by  violently  strike  and 

twitch    it,    but    letteth    his    fishing    line   go  at   tha 

length,  until   the   fi^li  do   swallow  down   the  hook 

[  and  so  work  its  own  destruction  ;    lest  if,   at   the 


DEVIL.     THE 


(     295    ) 


DEVIL.     THE 


fiist,  he  should  twitch  it  too  hard,  the  fishing  line 
should  break,  and  his  bait  and  hook  lost,  the  fish 
should  escape  :  even  so  Satan,  when  he  hatli  gotten 
a  poor  sinner  fast  upon  his  hook,  and  hath  en- 
tangled him  in  the  chains  of  some  deadly  sin,  and 
hath  bewitched  him  with  the  sorceries  of  the  flesh 
and  the  world,  doth  not  suddenly  oppress  and 
exasperate  him,  lest,  at  the  first  dash,  playing  the 
devil  openly  and  roughly,  the  sinner  should  break 
his  bands  and  escape  his  snares ;  but  he  doth 
cherish  him  and  make  much  of  him,  and  doth 
suffer  him  now  and  then  botli  to  speak  and  to  do 
some  tilings  that  savour  of  virtue,  that  by  little  and 
little,  he  being  made  fast  and  dead  sure  upon  the 
hook  of  sin,  he  may  by  degrees  work  his  own  woe 
and  utter  destruction  ;  so  that  the  devil  doth 
stretch  out  his  angling  rod,  thread,  and  all,  not 
that  he  may  let  the  sinner  escape,  but  that  he  may 
make  him  the  surer  and  hold  him  the  faster. 

—  Caivdray,  1609. 

(1669.)  Meditate  concerning  the  wicked  one,  his 
cunning  and  policy.  As  the  eagle,  when  he  seizes 
upon  a  carcass,  will  first  pick  out  the  eyes,  and 
then  feed  on  its  flesh  ;  so  Satan  first  blinds  the 
mind,  and  then  leads  them  hood-winked  to  hell. 
As  the  eagle  carries  the  shell-fish  into  the  air,  only 
that  he  may  break  them  by  their  fall,  and  devour 
them  ;  so  the  devil  by  his  costly  courtesy  advances 
many  to  their  destruction.  As  birds  are  caught 
with  several  baits  by  the  fowler,  some  with  chat'f, 
some  with  corn,  some  with  day-nets,  some  with  a 
low-bell,  so  the  arch-fowler  has  various  ways  to 
seduce  and  catch  poor  souls.  "Ye  are  not  igno- 
rant of  his  devices. "  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(1670.)  It  is  observable  that  a  forester  goeth 
usually  in  green,  suitable  to  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
and  the  grass  of  the  forest,  so  that  by  this  means 
the  most  observant  in  all  the  herd  never  so  much  as 
distrusteth  him  till  the  arrow  sticks  in  his  side. 
And  thus  the  devil  shapes  himself  to  the  fashions 
of  all  men.  If  he  meet  with  a  proud  man,  or  a 
prodigal  man,  then  he  makes  himself  a  flatterer ;  if 
a  covetous  man,  then  he  comes  with  a  reward  in 
his  hand.  He  hath  an  apple  for  hve,  a  grape  for 
Noah,  a  change  of  raiment  for  Gehazi,  a  bag  for 
Judas.  He  can  dish  out  his  meat  for  all  palates; 
he  hath  a  last  to  fit  every  shoe  ;  he  hath  something 
to  please  all  conditions,  to  suit  with  all  dispositions 
whatsoever.  —jaikyn,  1612-16S5. 

(167 1.)  Satan  chooseth  the  fittest  season  to  tempt 
in.  As  a  cunning  angler  casts  in  his  angle  when 
the  fish  will  bite  best ;  the  devil  can  hit  the  very 
joint  of  time  when  a  temptation  is  likeliest  to 
prevail.  — Watson,  1696. 

(1672.)  As  the  husbandman  knows  what  seed  is 
proper  to  sow  in  such  a  soil  ;  so  Satan  finding  out 
the  temper,  knows  what  temptation  is  proper  to 
sow  in  such  a  heart.  That  way  the  tide  of  a  man's 
constitution  runs,  that  way  the  wind  of  temptation 
blows  ;  Satan  tempts  the  ambitious  man  with  a 
crown,  the  sanguine  man  with  beauty,  the  covet- 
ous man  with  a  wedge  of  gold.  He  provides 
savoury  meat,  such  as  the  sinner  loves. 

—  Watso7t,  1696. 

9.  His  diligence. 

(1673.)  Some  there  are  that  will  go  from  Rome 
to  England  to  make  proselytes  ;  but  the  devil  will 
go  from  one  end  of  the  world  to  the  other,  and 


walk  from  pole  to  pole,  till  he  hath  put  a  girdle 
about  the  loins  of  the  earth,  to  make  a  man  tlie 
"  child  of  hell  like  himself."         — Adams,  1653. 

(1674.)  It  was  Hannibal's  saying  of  Marcellus, 
that  he  had  to  do  with  him  who  could  never  be 
quiet,  neither  conqueror  nor  conquered  ;  but  con- 
queror, he  would  pursue  his  victories,  and  conquered, 
labour  to  recover  his  loss.  But  much  rather  may  a 
man  say  the  like  of  Satan,  that  most  wrathful  and 
most  watchful  enemy  ;  who  is  never  idle,  but  ever 
employed  in  sowing  cockles  amongst  the  Lord's 
good  corn  ;  who,  though  we  stoutly  resist  him  and 
overcome  him  for  a  while,  yet  will  he  never  rest, 
but  will  be  tempting  again — yea,  will  not  cease  to 
tempt  us  again  and  again,  with  the  same  tempta- 
tions, hoping  at  length  to  win  our  consent  and  so 
give  us  the  foil  in  the  conclusion. 

—  IVoodnoth,  1658. 

10.  How  he  exercises  his  sway. 

(1675.)  Satan  exercises  his  sway,  in  part,  by 
direct  suggestion  to  our  minds.  Some  persons 
doubt  the  possibility  of  this.  "We  communicate 
with  one  another  by  means  of  the  bodily  organs. 
The  eye,  the  ear,  the  touch,  &c.,  are  the  only 
avenues  to  the  soul.  We  can  receive  no  ideas 
except  through  the  medium  of  sensation." 

Such  assertions  are  contrary  to  experience.  That 
the  eye  is  not  the  only  medium  of  sight,  those  of  us 
wlio  have  seen  patients  in  certain  abnormal  physical 
conditions  must  be  fully  convinced  ;  antl  so  must 
every  one  who  has  seen  his  little  daughter  in  a 
dream,  and  heard  her  talk.  But  not  to  insist  on 
this,  have  you  never  received  from  other  persons, 
impulses,  emotions,  thoughts,  without  any  inter- 
vention of  the  physical  organs?  What  is  the  mys- 
terious power  in  an  assembly,  which,  in  our  ignor- 
ance, we  vaguely  call  "sympathy"?  By  what 
power  is  one  heart  attracted  to  another  heart,  or 
repelled  from  it,  without  any  word,  or  look,  or 
gesture  which  could  consciously  account  for  it? 
How  is  it  that  you  sometimes  know  the  wishes  or 
the  sorrows  of  your  friend,  not  from  his  words,  not 
from  his  looks,  not  from  mental  induction,  but  in 
some  way  independent  of  all  these  ?  We  can,  to 
some  extent,  where  there  is  mutual  susceptibility, 
communicate  with  each  other,  without  the  interven- 
tion of  the  bodily  organs. 

But  these  objections  are  still  more  distinctly 
refuted  by  experience.  Who  is  there  that  has  not 
felt  conscious,  at  some  period  or  other,  and  ]ierhaps 
often,  that  some  spirit  was  speaking  to  his  spirit  ? 

An  instantaneous  inward  warning  which  savei 
from  an  unperceived  danger,  a  moral  precept  or  a 
Scripture  threatening  spoken  to  the  soul  in  the 
moment  of  temptation,  an  unaccountable  impulse 
to  go  and  see  some  whom,  on  our  arrival,  we  found 
to  be  dying,  or  otherwise  requiring  our  presence, 
these  are  familiar  instances  in  common  life. 

— L.  H.  Wiseman. 

11.  Why  his  sug'g^estioni  are  undetected. 

(1676.)  There  are  two  reasons  why  the  sugges- 
tions of  Satan  may  be  expected  to  be  often  unde- 
tected by  us  :  one  reason  exists  in  ourselves,  the 
other  in  him. 

One  reason  why  we  often  fail  to  detect  the  sug- 
gestions of  Satan  lies  in  ourselves.  It  is  that  they 
are  so  comformable  to  our  natural  inclinations,  that 
we  do  not  easily  imagine  they  come  from  without 


DEVIL.     THE 


(     296    > 


DISCONTENT. 


You  can  at  once  distinguish  an  EngHshman  from  a 
negro  ;  but  you  cannot  so  easily  distinguish  between 
a  negro  of  one  race,  and  a  negro  of  another,  they 
are  so  nearly  alike.  So  the  pure  suggestions  of  the 
Holy  Spirii  can  be  traced  to  their  celestial  organ  at 
once  ;  we  know  that  our  sinful  hearts  could  not 
have  originated  them  :  but  the  dark  promptings 
of  the  evil  one  are  so  much  like  our  own  dark  and 
ungodly  desires,  that  we  do  not  readily  discern  the 
difference.  In  a  painting,  bright  figures  upon  a 
dark  ground  show  vividly  ;  but  dark  figures  upon  a 
dark  ground  are  more  obscurely  seen.  In  leading 
us  to  carelessness  and  transgression,  Satan  has  often 
only  to  quicken  and  keep  alive  desires  which  we 
should  have  felt  without  his  influence,  and  to  ob- 
scure our  vision  of  better  things.  His  counsels  are 
agreeable  ;  he  swims  with  the  stream  of  corrupt 
nature  :  no  wonder,  then,  that  men  are  often  slow 
to  perceive  his  influence  over  them. 

Another  reason  lies  with  the  wicked  one  himself. 
He  knows  that  he  can  often  work  most  effectually 
where  his  presence  is  least  expected.  As  a  perfect 
orator  wholly  forgets  himself,  being  absorbed  in 
his  subject,  so  Satan,  as  a  consummate  tempter,  is 
■willing  to  be  himself  forgotten,  if  his  desire  be  accom- 
plished. Nay,  he  is  aware  that  the  accomplishment 
of  those  ends  often  requires  that  he  should  keep  him- 
self out  of  sight.  A  thief  never  wishes  to  make 
himself  conspicuous.  Accordingly,  the  most  subtle 
and  dangerous  temptations  are  precisely  those 
which  we  least  imagine  come  from  the  devil  ;  and 
Satan  never  has  so  great  mastery  over  a  man  as 
when  he  denies  his  existence. 

It  is  thus  the  prince  of  this  world  rules  in  the 
hearts  of  thf  children  of  disobedience  ;  not  ostenta- 
tiously, but  not  the  less  efl"ectually.  His  great 
strength  lies  in  secrecy,  especially  when  intellectual- 
ism  has  made  men  despise  superstition  and  super- 
stitious terrors.  The  nineteenth  century  man  of 
science  laughs  at  the  poor  Irish  grandmother  who  is 
in  bodily  fear  of  being  bewitched,  or  at  the  heathen 
Sioux  who  lives  in  terror  of  the  evil  eye ;  for  he 
can  demonstrate  the  absurdity  of  witchcraft,  and  the 
fixity  and  universality  of  physical  laws  ;  and  in  his 
hearthe  laughsat  theideaof  thedevilhavinganything 
to  do  with  this  world,  and  particularly  with  those 
whose  minds  have  been  trained  in  scientific  habits. 
But  what  if  we  could  lift  the  veil,  and  see  how  the 
devil  laughs  at  him  as  he  laughs  at  the  Irish  grand- 
mother !  The  one  believes  too  much,  the  other  too 
little.  In  the  one,  ignorance  begets  terror  ;  in  the 
other,  the  conceit  of  knowledge  leads  to  false 
security.  — L.  H,  Wiseman. 

12.  Is  a  hard  master. 

(1677.)  The  devil  is,  after  all,  a  hard  master. 
Under  the  guise  of  great  liberality,  he  extorts 
severe  conditions ;  he  demands  a  great  price  for 
everything  he  has  to  offer.  Although  he  pretended 
to  make  over  to  the  Lord  Jesus  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them,  it  was  at  no 
less  a  price  than  that  of  falling  down  to  worship 
him.  He  ever  acts  thus  with  those  who  enter  his 
service  ;  only  that  the  hard  part  of  the  condition  is 
not  usually  named  at  first,  but  discovered  by  bitter 
experience  afterwards — as  the  fish  at  first  tastes  only 
Ihe  bait,  but  afterwards  feels  the  barbed  hook. 

— L.  H.  Wisetiian. 

18.  Is  not  to  be  overcome  by  mere  words. 
(1678,)  Satan  is  not  such  a  babe,  to  be  outfaced 


with  a  word  of  defiance.  He  can  bear  a  few  invec* 
tives,  so  he  may  be  sure  of  the  soul  ;  like  a  usurer, 
that  can  endure  to  be  railed  on,  so  his  money  comes 
trolling  in.  — Adams,  1653. 

14.  Has  no  power  to  force  us  to  sin. 

(1679.)  No  man  can  justly  charge  his  sins  upon 
the  devil  as  the  cause  of  them  ;  for  God  has  no' 
put  it  into  the  power  of  our  mortal  enemy  to  ruin  us 
without  ourselves  ;  which  yet  He  had  done,  had  it 
been  in  the  devil's  power  to  force  us  to  sin.  The- 
devil  can  only  tempt  and  allure,  but  compel  he 
cannot  ;  he  may  inveigle,  but  he  cannot  command 
our  choice  ;  and  no  man  yet  ever  suffered  death 
who  did  not  choose  death  :  the  fisher  may  propose, 
and  play  the  bait  before  the  fish,  but  he  cannot 
force  it  to  swallow  it.  And  so  whatsoever  the 
devil  does,  he  does  by  insinuation,  and  not  by 
compulsion. 

The  Spirit  of  God  assures  us  that  he  may  be 
resisted,  and  that  upon  a  vigorous  resistance  he 
will  fly.  He  never  conquers  any  but  those  who 
yield  ;  a  spiritual  fort  is  never  taken  by  force, 
but  by  surrender.  And  when  a  man  is  as  willing 
to  be  ruined  as  he  is  to  ruin  him,  it  is  that  that 
makes  the  devil  triumphant  and  victorious.  How 
slily  and  creepingly  did  he  address  himself  to  our 
first  parents  !  which  surely  his  pride  would  never 
have  let  him  do  could  he  have  effected  their  down- 
fall by  force,  without  temptation. 

It  is  confessed,  indeed,  that  the  guiit  of  those 
sins  that  the  devil  tempts  us  to  will  rest  upon 
h'm,  but  not  so  as  to  discharge  us.  He  that  per- 
suades a  man  to  rob  a  house  is  guilty  of  the  sin 
he  persuades  him  to,  but  not  in  the  same  manner 
that  he  is  who  committed  the  robbery  ;  for  it  was 
in  his  power,  after  all  the  other's  persuasions,  to 
have  forborne  the  fact,  and  to  have  maintained  his 
innocence  ;  for  uo  man  is  a  thief  or  a  villain  against 
his  will. 

In  vain  therefore  do  men  shift  off  their  sins  upon 
the  devil,  whose  greatest  arts  they  may  frustrate, 
whose  strongest  solicitations  they  may  make  in- 
effectual :  for  it  is  in  their  power  (as  1  may  so  say) 
in  some  respects  to  make  the  devil  himself  innocent. 
But  still  the  load  of  all  must  lie  upon  him  ;  and  it 
is  not  he  that  commits,  but  he  that  tempts  to  sin, 
that  must  be  the  sinner.  It  seems  to  be  with  the 
devil,  in  respect  of  the  disorders  of  the  soul,  as  it 
is  with  the  sj^leen  in  respect  of  the  distempers  of 
the  body  ;  whatsoever  is  amiss,  or  indisposed,  the 
charge  is  sure  to  lie  there. 

But  howsoever  men  may  mock  themselves  with 
such  evasions,  yet  God  will  not  be  mocked,  who 
knows  that  He  left  the  soul  in  its  own  keeping,  and 
made  the  will  free,  and  not  to  be  forced  :  and  there- 
fore these  fig-leaves  will  fall  off  when  He  shall  come 
to  scrutiny  and  examination.  Eveiy  man  shall  beai 
his  own  burden,  and  the  devil  himself  shall  have 
but  what  is  his  due.  — South,  1633-1716, 


DISCONTENT. 

I.    ITS  FREQUENCY. 

(1680.)  Many  may  sit  down  silently,  forbearing 
discontented  expressions,  yet  are  inwardly  swollen 
with  discontentment.  Now  this  manifests  a  per- 
plexed distemper,  and  a  great  frowardness  in  their 
hearts ;  and   God,   notwithstanding  their  outward 


DISCONTENT. 


(    297    ) 


DISCONTENT. 


siler.ce,  hears  the  peevish  fretting  language  of  their 
souls.  The  shoe  may  be  sniootli  and  neat  witliout, 
whilst  the  flesh  is  pinched  within.  There  may  be 
much  calmness  outwardly,  and  yet  wonderful  con- 
fusion and  vexation  within. 

— Burrottghsy  1 599- 1 646. 

II.    ITS  CAUSES. 

1.  The  perversion  of  our  nature. 

(16S1.)  Oh,  sirs,  men  fall  out  with  their  outward 
conditions,  and  are  discontented  at  their  rank  and 
place  in  the  world  ;  but  the  fault  lies  more  inward. 
The  shoe  is  straight  and  good  enough,  but  the 
foot  is  crooked  that  \\ears  it.  All  would  do  well, 
if  thou  wert  well  ;  and  thou  wilt  never  be  well,  till 
thou  art  righteous  and  holy. 

—  Gtirnall,  161 7-1679. 

(1682.)  A  bad  mind  lives  in  things  and  for 
things,  or  we  miL;ht  rather  say,  under  things. 
Condition,  pleasure,  show,  are  its  god.  And  then 
it  follows  that  the  worship  is  only  another  name  for 
distemper,  unreason,  hallucination.  It  is  not 
positively  insane,  but  what  is  very  nearly  the  .^ame 
thing,  unsane — a  nature  out  of  joint,  poisoned, 
racked  with  pains,  a  cloudy,  wild,  ungove>ned, 
misconceiving  power.  It  knows  nothing  but  things, 
and  if  things  do  not  bless  it,  what  can  it  do  but  fall 
to  cursing?  Being  a  distempered  organ,  it  sees  its 
distempers  only  in  things  and  conditions  around  it. 
Thus  when  a  diseased  ear  keeps  up  a  nervous 
drumming  in  the  brain,  all  sweetest  music  will  have 
drumming  in  it.  v'^o  if  the  taste  is  bittered  by  some 
dyspeptic  woe,  it  will  find  that  bitter  savour  in  all 
most  delicate  things,  and  even  in  the  pure  waters 
of  the  spring.  So  also,  I  suppose,  if  the  humours  of 
the  eye  were  jaundiced,  the  pure  light  of  heaven 
would  be  yellowed  also.  Even  the  sun  is  smoky 
seen  through  a  smoked  glass.  Just  so  we  are  meet- 
ing all  sorts  of  bitter,  painful,  and  bad  things  in  our 
life,  just  because  we  are  bitter,  painful,  bad  our- 
selves, and  cannot  see  that  this  is  the  root  of  our 
misery.  — Bushnell. 

2.  Our  lack  of  grace. 

(1683.)  As  it  is  with  a  vessel  that  is  full  of  liquor, 
if  you  strike  upon  it,  it  will  make  no  great  noise; 
but  if  it  be  empty,  then  it  makes  a  great  noise  :  so 
it  is  with  the  heart.  A  heart  that  is  full  of  grace 
and  goodness  within,  will  bear  a  great  many  strokes 
and  never  make  any  noise  ;  but  an  empty  heart,  if 
that  be  struck,  will  make  a  noise.  Those  that  are 
so  much  complaining,  it  is  a  sign  that  there  is  an 
emptiness  in  their  hearts.  A  man  that  has  his 
bones  tilled  with  marrow,  and  veins  filled  with  good 
blood,  complains  not  of  cold  as  others  do  :  so  a 
gracious  person  having  the  Spirit  of  God  within 
him,  and  his  heart  tilled  with  grace,  has  that  within 
him  that  makes  him  find  contentment. 

— Btirrougks,  1 599- 1 646. 

8.  Spiritual  sloth. 

(1684.)  Who  are  the  men  that  are  most  discon- 
tented, but  idle  persons  ?  Persons  that  have  nothing 
to  take  up  their  minds,  every  little  thing  disquiets 
and  discontents  them.  A  man  that  has  business  of 
greaf  consequence,  if  all  things  go  well  with  his 
great  business,  he  is  less  sensible  of  meaner  things  ; 
but  a  man  that  lies  at  home  and  has  nothing  to  do, 
finds  fault  with  eveiything.  So  it  is  with  the 
heart.  When  the  heart  of  a  man  has  nothing  to  do 
but  to  be  busy  about  creature  comforti  every  little 


thing  troubles  him  ;  but  when  the  heart  is  taken  up 
with  the  weighty  things  of  eternity,  these  things 
that  are  here  below,  that  did  disquiet  it  before,  are 
things  now  of  no  consideration  with  him,  in  com- 
parison to  the  other;  however  things  fall  out  here, 
they  are  not  much  regarded  by  him,  if  the  "one 
thing  "  that  is  "necessary"  be  provided  for. 

— Burroughs,   1599-1 646. 

4.  Heedlessness  of  the  blessings  of  our  lot. 
(16S5.)  When   we  enjoy  good  things,  we  look  at 

the  grievances  which  are  mingled  with  the  good, 
and  forget  the  good  ;  which,  when  it  is  gone,  then 
we  remember.  The  Israelites  could  remember  theii 
onions  and  garlic,  and  forget  their  slavery  (Num.  xi. 
5).  So,  because  manna  w'as  present,  they  de- 
spised manna,  and  that  upon  one  inconvenience  it 
had,  "it  was  ordinary  with  them"  (Num.  xxi.  5). 
— Sibbes,  1 5 77-1 635. 

(1686.)  These  complaints  arise  from  the  corrupt 
flesh,  which  is  so  wholly  intent  upon  the  present 
smart  which  it  feels,  that  it  utterly  forgets  all  God's 
blessings,  which  we  either  have  formerly  enjoyed  in 
time  past,  or  do  enjoy  in  and  after  our  afllictions  ; 
and  through  impatiency  robs  us  of  those  comforts 
God  has  given  us,  which  if  they  were  duly  pondered 
in  the  balance  of  an  imimrtial  judgment,  would  not 
only  counterpoise,  but  even  much  overweigh  the 
causes  of  our  griefs.  Wherein  we  are  not  unfitly 
compared  to  flies,  who  leave  all  the  sound  flesh, 
though  of  far  grea;er  quantity,  and  seek  out  only 
sores  to  suck  in  ;  or  to  little  children,  who  if  any  of 
their  delights  be  taken  from  them,  in  their  peevish- 
ness cast  away  all  the  rest,  and  fall  a  crying.  For 
so,  in  our  frowardness,  if  we  have  not  all  we  desire, 
we  think  that  we  have  nothing  ;  if  God  cross  us  in 
any  one  benefit,  by  taking  it  from  us,  we  are  ready 
to  cross  ourselves  in  all  the  rest,  casting  them  away 
by  careless  neglect,  whereas  they  should  serve  as 
comforts  to  moderate  our  grief. 

— Downame,  1644. 

5.  Forgetftilness  of  the  greater  trials  that  befall 
others. 

(1687.)  "I  don't  know,"  said  the  turnstile  one 
day  in  a  reflective  mood, — "  I  don't  know  that  I 
ought  to  have  thought  so  ill  of  my  lot,  and  to  have 
fretted  over  it,  as  1  have  done. 

"  'Tis  true,  a  turnstile  has  plenty  of  worry,  as  I 
have  truly  proved  ;  worry  and  whirl  all  the  day 
long  ! 

"Nobody  will  ever  pass  without  giving  a  turn- 
stile a  swing  round  ;  and  whoever  returns,  ten  to 
one  but  he  gives  the  turnstile  a  whirling  twist  the 
other  way  ! 

"  Indeed  I  have  said  that  I  wouldn't  wish  to  any 
one,  whether  friend  or  foe,  the  life  of  a  poor  turnstile. 
No  : — liut  then,  as  that  old  wheel  of  the  waggon 
said  yesterday — Mine's  a  pleasant  life  and  a  favoured 
lot  compared  with  his  !  If  I  have  to  turn  round, 
he  has  the  same;  and  whilst  he  has  the  burden  of 
the  cart,  there  is  besides  the  weight  of  the  load  it 
carries  pressing  on  him ;  and  1  have  no  incum- 
brances. 

"  So,  on  the  whole,  perhaps  I'd  better  try  and  be 
satisfied,  that  is,  as  satisfied  as  I  can  affcird  to  be, 
with  so  many  turns  about  as  must  in  my  situation 
naturally  come  to  my  lot." 

Not  a  few  of  life's  troubles  are  self  made  ;  and 
some    will   complain,    who,    on   com[)aring  other 


DISCONTENT. 


(    298    ) 


DISCONTENT. 


people's  trials  with  theirs,  will  see  the  lightness  of 
tlieir  own  ;  and  should  thankfully  say  : — "The  lines, 
are  fallen  unto  me  in  pleasant  places;  yea.  I  have  a 
goodly  heritage."  — Bowden. 

III.     ITS  UlfR EASONABLENESS. 

1.  This  life  is  a  journey. 

(16SS. )  Though  we  do  meet  with  traveller's  fare 
sometimes,  yet  it  should  not  be  grievous  to  us. 
The  scripture  tells  us  plainly  that  we  must  behave 
ourselves  here  but  as  pilgrims  and  strangers  : — 
"  Dearly  beloved,  I  beseech  you  as  strangers  and 
pilgrims,  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts  which  war 
against  the  soul."  Consider  what  your  condition 
is, — you  are  pilgrims  and  strangers  ;  do  not  think  to 
satisfy  yourselves  here. 

A  man  when  he  comes  into  an  inn,  if  there  be  a 
fair  cupboard  of  plate,  is  not  troubled  that  it  is  not 
his  owii.  Why  ?  Because  he  is  going  away.  So  let 
us  not  be  troubled  when  we  see  other  men  have 
great  estates,  but  we  have  not.  Why  ?  IVe  are 
going  away  into  another  country.  You  are  lodging 
here  but  as  it  were  for  a  niglit  ;  if  you  should  live 
a  hundred  years,  in  comparison  with  eternity  it  is 
not  so  much  as  a  night,  it  is  but  as  if  you  were 
travelling  and  were  come  into  an  inn  :  and  were 
not  this  madness,  for  a  man  to  be  discontented 
because  he  has  not  what  he  sees  there,  seeing,  it 
may  be,  he  is  to  go  away  again  within  half  a  quarter 
of  an  hour?  — Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

2.  This  life  la  a  voyage. 

(1689.)  When  you  are  abroad  at  sea,  though 
you  have  not  those  many  thini,'S  that  you  have  at 
home,  you  are  not  troubled  at  it  ;  you  are  contented. 
Why?  Yoti  are  abroad  at  sea  ;  you  are  not  trou- 
bled at  storms  that  arise,  and  though  you  have 
many  things  otherwise  than  you  would  have  them 
at  home,  still  you  are  quieted  with  that — you  are  at 
sea.  Mariners,  when  they  are  at  sea,  care  not 
what  clothes  they  have  then,  though  they  be 
pitched  and  tarreil  ;  but  they  think  when  they 
come  home,  then  they  shall  have  their  brave  suits 
and  be  very  fine.  They  are  contented  abroad  upon 
that  thought,  that  it  shall  be  otherwise  with  them 
when  they  come  home ;  and  though  they  have 
nothing  but  salt  meat  and  a  little  hard  fare,  yet 
when  they  come  to  their  houses  then  they  shall 
have  anything.  Thus  it  should  be  with  us  in  this 
world.  We  are  all  in  this  wcrld  but  as  seafaring 
men,  tossed  up  and  down  on  the  waves  of  the  sea 
of  this  world,  and  our  haven  is  heaven. 

— Btcrroug/is,  1 5  99- 1 646. 

S.  This  life  is  a  warfare. 

(1690.)  We  are  not  only  travellers,  but  soldiers  : 
therefore  we  are  to  behave  ourselves  accordingly. 
The  Apostle  makes  use  of  this  argument  in  writing 
to  Timothy: — "Thou  therefore  endure  hardness 
as  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ."  The  very 
thought  of  the  condition  of  a  man  that  is  a  soldier 
stills  his  disquiet  of  heart.  When  he  is  abroad,  he 
has  not  that  accommodation  in  his  quarters  that  he 
has  in  his  own  family  ;  perhaps  a  man  that  has  his 
bed  warm,  and  curtains  drawn  about  him,  and  all 
his  accommodations  in  his  chamber,  now  some- 
times he  must  be  put  to  lie  upon  straw  ;  and  he 
thinks  with  himself,  "  I  am  a  soldier,  and  it  is 
suitable  to  my  conditions."  He  must  have  his  bed 
warmed  at  home,  but  he  must  lie  abroad  in  the 
fields  when  he  is  a  soldier  ;  and  the  \  cry  thought 


of  this  condition  i:i  which  he  stands  quiets  him  in 
all  things,  and  he  gees  rejoicing  to  think,  "This 
is  but  suitable  to  my  condition  in  which  God  has 
put  me."  So  it  should  be  with  us  in  respect  of  this 
world.  Woukl  it  not  be  an  unseemly  thing,  to  see 
a  soldier  go  whining  up  and  down  with  his  finger 
in  his  eye,  and  complaining  that  he  has  not  hot 
meat  every  meal,  and  his  bed  warmed,  as  he  had  at 
home  ?  Now,  Christians  know  that  they  are  in 
their  warfare  ;  they  are  here  in  this  world  combat- 
ing with  the  enemies  of  their  souls,  and  they  must 
be  willing  to  endure  hardness  here.  The  right 
understanding  of  this,  that  God  has  put  them  into 
such  a  condition,  is  that  which  will  content  them, 
especially  when  they  consider  that  they  are  certain 
of  the  victor)',  and  that  ere  long  they  shall  triumph 
with  Jesus  Christ,  and  then  all  their  sorrows  shall 
be  done  away,  and  their  tears  wiped  from  their 
eyes.  — Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

4.  Our  trials  bear  no  proportion  to  our  comforts. 

(1691.)  Suppose  a  man  has  a  very  fair  house  to 
dwell  in,  and  he  has  fair  orchards  and  gardens,  and 
set  about  with  tall  brave  trees  for  ornament  ;  what 
a  most  unreasonable  thing  were  it  for  him  to  be 
weeping  and  wringing  his  hands  because  the  wind 
blows  off  a  few  leaves  off  his  trees,  when  he  has 
abundance  of  all  kinds  of  fruit !  Thus  it  is  with 
many  :  though  they  have  a  great  many  conil'orts 
about  them,  yet  some  little  matter,  the  blowing  off  a 
few  leaves  from  them  is  enough  to  disquiet  tliem. 
— Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

(1692.)  Suppose  God  gives  a  woman  a  child  that 
is  very  comely,  and  has  excellent  parts,  wit  and 
memory  ;  but  it  may  be  there  is  a  wart  that  grows 
upon  the  finger  of  the  child,  and  she  murmurs  at  it, 
and  what  an  affliction  is  that  to  her  !  She  is  so 
taken  up  with  that,  that  she  forgets  to  give  any 
thanks  to  God  for  her  child,  and  all  the  goodness  of 
God  to  her  in  her  child  is  swallowed  up  in  that. 
W'ould  you  not  say,  this  were  a  folly  and  a  very  great 
evil  in  a  woman  so  to  do?  Truly  our  afflictions,  if 
we  weighed  them  aright,  are  but  such  kind  of  things 
in  comparison  with  our  mercies. 

— Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

5.  Former  prosperity  is  a  reason,  not  for  mur- 
muring, but  for  thankful  remembrance. 

{1693.)  Dost  thou  murmur  because  once  thou  wert 
better?  Know  God  was  beforehand  with  thee  in  the 
ways  of  mercy.  Thou  shouldest  rather  think  thus, 
"  I  have  lived  for  these  many  years,  forty  years  per- 
haps or  more,  in  a  comfortable  ccjndition  ;  I  have 
li.ved  in  health,  and  peace,  and  plenty.  What 
though  the  remaining  part  of  my  time  has  some 
affliction  ?  The  Lord  has  granted  me  a  comfortable 
sunshine  all  the  day  long  till  towards  evening,  and 
what  if  at  seven  or  eight  o'clock  at  night  it  begins  to 
rain  ?  Let  me  thank  God  I  have  had  so  fair  weather 
all  day." 

You  that  are  going  a  voyage,  if  you  have  had  a 
comfortable  wind,  and  very  fair,  for  many  months 
tijgether,  whnt  if  you  have  a  little  storm  when  you 
are  within  sight  of  land  ?  Will  you  murmur  and 
repine  ?  Oh  no,  but  rather  bless  God  that  you  have 
had  such  a  comfortable  voyage  so  long.  Oh,  this 
consideration  would  help  us  all  ! 

What  am  I  that  the  sun  should  always  shine  upon 
me,  th.-t  I  must  have  fair  weather  all  my  days? 
That  w'lich  God  gives  to  me,  He  gave  it  me  as  a 


DISCONTENT. 


(    299    ) 


DISCONTENT. 


pleflge  of  His  love :  let  me  return  it  to  Kim  as  a 
pledge  of  my  obedience. 

— Burroughs,  1599- 1646. 

C  We  profess  to  be  heirs  of  God, 

(1694.)  That  man  that  hath  a  reward  in  heaven 
may  be  exceeding  glad,  whatsoever  befall  him  here 
on  earth.  Will  a  prince  be  troubled  foi  the  loss  of 
a  farthing  or  the  barking  of  a  dog?  That  man 
that  hath  not  clothes  to  his  back,  nor  a  house  to 
put  his  head  in,  nor  a  good  word  from  any  about  him, 
and  yet  hath  assurance  of  living  in  glory  with  God 
and  His  holy  angels,  as  soon  as  ever  he  is  gone  out 
of  the  flesh,  I  think  is  a  happy  man  in  the  eye  of 
reason  itself.  And  he  that  professeth  to  have  assur- 
ance of  such  a  glory,  and  yet  liveth  not  comfortably 
in  every  condition,  I  will  not  believe  him  whatso- 
ever he  profess.  — Baxter,  1615-1691, 

(1695.)  If  a  poor  man  that  had  all  his  wealth 
about  him  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  thieves,  and 
be  robbed  and  rifled  by  them,  he  must  needs  cry 
out  and  take  on  pitifully,  for,  alas  !  he  is  quite  un- 
done, he  hath  nothing  left  at  home  to  succour  him 
and  his  poor  family  withal  ;  but  a  rich  man  that 
hath  store  of  money  at  home,  safe  locked  up  in  his 
chest  (unless  he  be  some  base,  miserable  wretch), 
will  ne\'er  complain  much  or  be  disquieted  when  he 
hath  thirty  or  forty  shillings  taken  from  him.  Thus 
for  worldlings  to  rage  and  take  on  when  they  must 
lose  their  lile,  or  their  peace,  or  their  wealth,  it  is 
no  marvel  ;  for,  alas  !  wiien  these  things  are  gone, 
they  have  nothing  left,  they  are  at  a  desperate  loss  : 
but  a  Christian  that  knows  and  considers  what  he  is 
born  unto,  anil  what  he  shall  enjoy  when  he  comes 
home  to  his  Heavenly  Father's  house,  he  cares  not 
though  he  be  stripped  of  all  here  in  this  world,  and 
rejoiceth  in  death  that  hastens  him  to  a  better 
possession.  — HihUrshaiiiy  1631. 

IV.    ITS  FOLLY. 
1.  It  does  nothing  to  remove  our  troubles. 

(1696.)  Someof  Job's  friends  said  to  him,  "Shall 
the  earth  be  forsaken  for  thee,  and  shall  the  rock  be 
removed  out  of  his  place?"  So  I  may  say  to  every 
discontented,  impatient  heart,  "  What,  shall  the 
providence  of  God  change  its  course  for  thee? 
IJost  thou  think  it  such  a  weak  thing  that,  because 
it  does  not  please  thee,  it  must  alter  its  course?  Be 
thou  content  or  not  content,  the  providence  of  God 
will  go  on.  Canst  thou  make  one  hair  black  or 
while  with  all  the  stir  that  thou  keepest?" 

When  you  are  in  a  ship  at  sea,  that  has  all  her 
sails  spread  with  a  full  gale  of  wind  and  svviftly 
sailing,  can  you  make  it  still  by  running  up  and 
down  in  the  ship  ?  No  more  can  you  make  the 
providence  of  God  change  its  course  with  your 
fretting ;  it  will  go  on  with  power,  do  what  thou 
canst.  — Burroughs,  1599- 1646. 

(1697.)  The  maunderings  of  discontent  are  like 
the  behaviour  of  a  swine,    who,   when  he   feels  it 
rain,  runs  grumbling  about,  and  by  that  indeed  dis- 
covers his  nature,  but  does  not  avoid  the  storm. 
— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

a.  It  does  much  to  aggravate  them. 

(169S. )  By  discontent  and  repining  the  weight 
of  our  afflictions  is  exceedingly  aggravated.  For 
whereas  in  their  own  nature,  they  did  only  press  us, 
now  also  they  vex  and  gall  us  ;  like  the  yoke  carried 


by  the  refractory  ox,  which  by  his  struggling  freto 
otT  the  skin,  whereas  it  might  be  carried  with  ease 
and  without  hurt  if  he  would  go  quietly. 

— Dcnuname,  1644. 

(1699.)  There  is  a  great  deal  of  folly  in  discon- 
tentedness,  for  it  makes  our  afflictions  a  great  deal 
worse  than  otherwise  they  would  be.  If  a  mariner 
when  a  storm  comes  should  be  froward,  and  would 
not  pull  down  his  sails,  is  his  condition  the  better 
because  he  is  discontented  and  will  not  pull  down 
his  sails  ?  Just  so  is  it  with  a  discontented  heart. 
A  discontented  heart  is  a  proud  heart,  and  he  out 
of  his  pride  is  troubled  with  his  affliction,  and  is  not 
contented  with  God's  disposal,  and  so  he  will  not 
pull  down  his  spirit  and  make  it  bow  to  God  in  this 
condition  in  which  God  has  brought  him.  Now,  is 
his  condition  the  belter  ?  No,  certainly,  abundantly 
worse  ;  a  thousand  to  one  but  the  tempest  over- 
whelms his  soul.  And  thus,  you  see  what  a  great 
deal  of  folly  there  is  in  the  sin  of  discontentment. 
— Burroughs,  1 599- 1 646. 

(1700.)  By  impatience  there  is  no  good  to  be 
gotten.  It  will  be  but  a  means  to  make  God  lay 
heavier  and  harder  things  on  us,  as  a  discreet 
father,  when  his  son  shall  take  pet  at  some  smaller 
matter  that  his  father  has  crossed  him  in,  m^y 
therefore  take  occasion,  yea,  and  many  times  does, 
to  give  him  some  greater  cause  of  discontent,  to 
bring  him  hereby  to  know  himself  and  his  duty,  and 
to  teach  him  to  rest  content  with  that  which  his 
father  will  have.  By  impatience  our  affliction  will 
but  grow  more  grievous  to  us,  as  the  snare  is  to  the 
fowl  that  by  fluttering  and  straining  makes  the 
string  straigliter,  as  t'e  yoke  is  to  the  beast  that  by 
struggling  with  it  has  galled  her  neck,  and  yet  is 
compelled  to  draw  still  in  it.  And  we  shall  but 
thereby  procure  to  ourselves  the  more  evil  ;  as  the 
sick  man  in  a  burning  fever,  while  by  tossing  to 
and  fro  he  seeks  to  find  ease,  does  but  exasperate 
the  disease  and  increase  his  own  grief. 

— Gdtaker,  1 574-1654. 

(1701.)  Discontent  puts  an  edge  on  troubles  :  to 

kick  against  the  pricks  exasperates  the  pain. 

— Bates,  1 625- 1 699. 

V.  ITS   HURTFULNESS. 

(1702.)  The  discontented  man  is  like  a  watch 
overwound,  wrested  out  of  time,  and  goes  false  ; 
grief  is  like  ink  poured  into  water,  that  hlls  the 
whole  fountain  full  of  blackness.  Like  mist,  it 
spoils  the  burnish  of  the  silver  mind. 

—Felltham,  1668. 

(1703.)  \\Tiy  dost  thou  complain  of  thy  troubles? 
It  is  not  trouble  that  troubles  but  discontent. 
It  is  not  the  water  without  the  ship,  hut  the  water 
that  gets  within  the  leak,  which  drowns  it.  It  is 
not  outward  affliction  that  car  make  the  life  of  a 
Christian  sad  :  a  contented  mind  would  sail  above 
these  waters;  but  when  there  is  a  leak  of  discontent 
open,  and  trouble  gets  into  the  lieart,  then  it  is  dis- 
quieted and  sinks.  Do  therefore  as  the  mariners, 
pump  the  water  out  and  stop  this  spiritual  leak  in 
thy  soul,  and  no  trouble  can  hurt  thee. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

VI.  ITS  MISERY. 

(1704.)  There  are  those  that  want  impatiently; 
repining  at  God's  dealing  with  them,  and  making 
their  own  impotent  anger  guilty  of  a  further  addi- 


DISCONTENT. 


(    300    ) 


DISCONTENT. 


tion  to  their  misery,  as  the  distressed  king  of  Israel, 
m  a  desperate  sense  of  that  grievous  dearth  :  "  Be- 
hold, this  evil  is  of  tlie  Lord,  what  should  1  wait  on 
the  Lor<i  any  longer  ? "  and  those  wretched  ones, 
who  when  tiie  fourth  angel  had  poured  his  phial 
upon  the  sun,  being  scorched  with  the  extremity  of 
the  heat,  blasphemed  the  God  of  Heaven.  In  this 
kind,  was  that  sinful  techiness  of  Jonah.  When  I 
see  a  poor  worm  that  hath  put  itself  out  of  the  cool 
cell  of  the  earth  wherein  it  was  lodged  ;  and  now, 
being  beaten  upon  by  the  sunbeams,  lies  wriggling 
upon  the  bare  path,  turning  iiself  every  way  in  vain, 
and  not  finding  so  much  as  the  shade  of  a  leaf  to 
cover  it ;  I  cannot  but  think  of  that  fretting  prophet 
when,  wanting  the  protection  of  his  gourd,  he  fuund 
himself  scalded  with  that  strong  reflection  ;  looking 
up  wrathfuUy  towards  the  sun,  from  whom  he 
smarted,  could  say  to  the  God  that  made  it,  "  I  do 
well  to  be  angry,  even  to  the  death." 

—Hall,  1574-1656. 

VII.  ITS  SHAMEFULNESS. 

(1705.)  When  thou  hast  been  a  long  time  in  the 
school  of  afflictions,  thou  art  a  very  dullard  in  Christ's 
school  if  thou  hast  not  learned  conieniment.  "  I 
have  learned,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  in  whatsoever  state 
1  am,  therewith  to  be  content."  The  eye  is  as  tender 
a  part  as  any  in  a  man's  body,  but  yet  tlie  eye  is 
able  to  bear  a  great  deal  of  cold,  because  it  is  more 
used  to  it.  So  those  that  God  exercises  much  with 
afflictions,  though  they  have  tender  sjMrits  otherwise, 
yet  they  should  have  learned  contentedness  by  this 
time.  A  new  cart  may  creak,  but  after  the  use  of  it 
a  while  it  will  not  do  so.  So  when  thou  wert  newly 
come  into  the  work  of  Christ,  perhaps  thou  malcest 
a  noise  and  canst  not  bear  afllictions ;  but  art  thou 
an  old  Christian,  and  yet  wilt  thou  be  a  mutmiring 
Christian?  Oh,  it  is  a  sliame  for  any  that  have 
been  a  long  time  in  the  school  of  Jesus  Christ  to 
have  murmuring  and  discontented  spirits. 

— Bttrrougk\,  1599-1646. 

(1706.)  Our  base  hearts  are  more  discontented  at 
one  loss  than  thankful  for  a  hundreil  mercies.  God 
hath  plucked  one  bunch  of  grapes  from  you  ;  but 
how  many  precious  clusters  are  left  behind  ? 

—  Watson,  1696. 

VIII.  ITS  SINFULNESS. 

(1707.)  God  counts  it  rebellion  (Comp.  Num.  xvi. 
14,  with  xvii.  10).  Murmuring  is  but  as  the  smoke  of 
a  fire  ;  there  is  first  a  smoke  and  smother  before  the 
flame  breaks  forth  :  and  so  before  open  rebellion  in 
a  kingdom  there  is  first  a  smoke  of  murmuring,  and 
then  it  breaks  forth  into  open  rebellion.  Because  it 
has  rebellion  in  the  seeds  of  it,  it  is  counted  before 
the  Lord  to  be  rebellion.  When  thou  feelest  thy 
heart  discontented  and  murmuring  against  the  dis- 
pensation of  God  towards  thee,  thou  should^st  check 
thy  heart  thus,  "Oh,  thou  wretched  heart,  what! 
wilt  thou  be  a  rebel  against  God  ? " 

— Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

(1708.)  Suppose  a  man  were  in  a  family  enter- 
tained Dy  A  friend,  and  he  did  not  pay  for  his  board  ; 
it  is  expected  that  such  a  one  should  not  be  ready  to 
find  fault  with  everything  in  the  house.  If  such  a 
one  should  be  discontented  if  a  cup  should  not  be 
filled  for  him  as  he  would  have  it,  or  if  he  should 
stay  a  minute  longer  for  a  thing  than  he  would,  this 
we  would  account  a  great  evil.  So  it  is  with  us  :  we 
ire  at  God's  table  every  day,  and  it  is  upon  free  cost 


whatever  we  may  have.  Now  when  we  are  at  the 
table  of  God  (for  so  all  God's  administrations  to  us 
are  His  tal>le)  and  at  free  cost,  for  us  to  be  finding 
fault  and  be  discontented  is  a  very  great  aggravation 
of  our  sin.  — Burroughs,  1 599- 1646. 

(1709.)  We  would  think  that  beggar  intolerably 
impudent  that  coming  to  our  doors  to  ask  an  alms, 
when  we  have  bestowed  on  him  some  broken  bread 
and  meat  or  some  sorry  cast  coat,  yet  like  those 
importunate  persons  the  psalmist  speaks  of,  that 
grudge  and  grumble  if  they  have  not  their  own  fill 
and  their  own  will,  should  not  be  quiet  and  hold 
himself  content  therewith,  unless  he  might  liave  one 
of  the  best  dishes  of  meat  from  our  board,  or  one  of 
our  ordinary  wearing  suits  given  him.  And  yet  this 
is  the  case  of  the  greatest  number  of  us.  We  com* 
all  as  beggars  to  God's  mercy-gate,  and  God  gives 
us  out  abundance  of  many  good  things — life,  liberty, 
health  of  body,  strength  and  ability  of  limbs,  food 
and  raiment,  &c.,  a  courtesy  and  competency  of 
each,  as  He  sees  to  be  fit  for  us  :  and  yet  forsooth  we 
cannot  be  quiet,  nor  think  ourselves  well,  unless  we 
may  fare  as  deliciously  as  Dives  did,  or  go  in  silk* 
and  satins  as  such  and  such  do. 

—  Gataker,  1574-1654. 

{1710.)  Discontent  is  a  secret  boasting  of  soma 
excellency  in  ourselves,  as  if  God  did  not  govern 
well,  or  we  could  govern  better?  Shall  a  silly  pas- 
senger, that  understands  not  the  use  of  the  compass, 
be  angry  that  the  skilful  pilot  will  not  steer  the 
vessel  according  to  his  pleasure?  Must  we  give 
out  our  orders  to  God,  as  though  the  counsels  of 
infinite  wisdom  must  roll  about  according  to  the 
conceits  of  our  fancy  ?      — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

IX.    ITS  CURE. 

1.  Is  not  to  be  wrought  by  changes  In  our  clr^ 

cumstances. 

(1711.)  I  cannot  compare  the  folly  of  men  that 
think  to  get  contentment  with  their  musings  about 
others'  conditions  better  than  to  the  way  of  chil- 
dren :  perhaps  they  are  gotten  upon  a  hill,  and 
they  look  a  good  way  olf  and  see  another  hill, 
and  they  think  that  if  they  were  on  the  top 
of  that,  then  they  were  able  to  touch  the  clouds 
with  their  fingers  ;  but  when  they  are  on  the  top  of 
that  hill,  alas  !  then  they  are  as  far  from  the  clouds 
as  they  were  before.  So  it  is  with  many  that 
think,  if  they  were  in  such  a  condition  then  they 
should  have  contentment  ;  and  perhaps  they  get 
into  that  condition,  and  then  they  are  as  far  from 
contentment  as  before. 

— Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

2.  Nor  by  additions  to  our  posBessions. 

(171 2.)  The  reason  why  you  have  not  content- 
ment in  the  things  of  the  world  is  not  because  you 
have  not  enough  of  them  ;  but  the  reason  is, 
because  they  are  not  proportionable  to  that  im- 
mortal soul  of  yours  that  is  capable  of  God  Him- 
self. Many  think  when  they  are  troubled  and  have 
not  contentment,  that  it  is  because  they  have  but  a 
little  in  the  world,  and  if  they  had  more  then  they 
shoidd  be  content.  That  were  just  thus.  Suppose 
a  man  is  hungry,  and  to  satisfy  his  craving  stomach 
he  should  open  his  mouth  to  take  in  the  wind,  and 
then  should  think  that  the  reason  why  he  is  not 
satisfied  is  because  he  has  not  enough  of  the  wind  ; 
no,  ttie  reason  is,  because  the  thing  is  not  suitable 


DISCONTENT. 


(    301     ) 


DISCONTENT. 


to  a  cravii>g  stomach.  Truly  there  is  the  same 
madness  in  theworld.  The  wind  that  a  man  takes 
in  by  gaping  will  as  soon  satisfy  a  craving  stomach, 
as  all  the  comforts  in  the  world  can  satisfy  a  soul 
that  knows  what  true  happiness  means  (Isa.  Iv.  I-3). 
— Burroughs,  1 599- 1 646. 

(1713.)  The  covcvous  person  that  is  so  greedy  of  the 

world  and  so  insatiable  in  his  desires,  has  not  need 
of  more  to  be  heaped  upon  him,  but  has  need  rather 
of  something  to  be  taken  away  from  him.  He  must 
have  that  discontented  humour  of  his  purged  out 
of  his  head,  that  covetous  affection  of  his  wrought 
out  of  his  heart,  that  is  the  cause  of  this  his  insati- 
able desire.  Till  then,  all  this  world's  wealth  will 
be  but  as  strong  dtink  to  the  drunkard,  that  further 
inflames  him,  and  increases  his  drought  ;  as  oil  to 
the  fire,  that  does  not  quench  it,  but  makes  it  burn 
fiercer  than  at  first.  • — Gataker,  1574-1654. 

{1714.)  When  once  men  transqjress  the  bounds  of 
contentment  prescribed  by  God,  there  is  no  stop 
nor  stay.  As  the  channel  wears  vider  and  deeper 
the  more  water  falls  into  it  ;  so  the  more  outward 
things  increase  upon  us,  the  more  are  our  desires 
increased.  Be  content  with  such  thii>gs  as  you 
have  now,  or  you  will  not  be  content  hceafter  ;  the 
lust  will  increase  with  the  possession. 

— Manion,  i6.'»,o-l667. 

3.  But  by  the  grace  of  God  in  tJie  heart,  cleans- 
tag  it  from  inordinate  desires. 

(17 1 5.)  All  the  rules  and  helps  in  the  world  will 
do  us  little  good,  except  we  get  a  good  temper  in 
our  hearts.  You  can  never  make  a  ship  go  steady 
with  propping  of  it  without  ;  you  know  there  must 
be  ballast  witliin  the  ship,  that  must  make  it  go 
steady.  And  so  there  is  nothing  without  us  that 
can  keep  our  hearts  in  a  steady  constant  way,  but 
that  which  is  within  us  ;  grace  within  the  soul, 
that  will  do  it.  — Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

(1716.)  The  men  of  the  world,  when  they  wonld 
have  contentment,  and  want  anything.  Oh,  they 
must  have  something  from  without  to  content  them. 
But,  says  a  godly  man,  let  me  get  out  that  which  is 
in  already,  and  then  I  shall  come  to  contentment. 
As  suppose  a  man  has  an  aguish  humour  that 
makes  his  drink  taste  bitter  :  "  Now,"  says  he,  "  you 
must  put  some  sugar  into  my  drink,"  and  his  wife 
puts  in  some,  and  yet  the  drink  tastes  bitter.  Why  ? 
Because  the  bitterness  comes  from  a  bitter  choleric 
humour  within.  But  let  the  physician  come  and 
give  him  a  potion  to  purge  out  the  bitterness  that 
is  within,  and  then  he  can  taste  his  drink  well 
enough.  Just  thus  it  is  with  the  men  of  the  world. 
"Oh,  such  a  condition  is  bitter,  and  if  I  could  have 
such  and  such  a  mercy  adderl  to  this  misery,  then  it 
would  be  sweet."  Now,  if  God  should  put  a  spoon- 
ful or  two  of  sugar  in,  it  would  be  bitter  still.  But 
the  way  to  contentment  is  to  purge  out  thy  lusts  and 
biner  humours.  "  From  whence  come  wars  and 
fightings  among  you  ?  Come  they  not  from  hence, 
even  of  the  lusts  that  war  in  your  members  ?  " 

Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

(1717.)  As  contentment  argues  much  grace,  so 
discontent  argues  much  corruption.  If  a  man's 
body  be  of  that  temper  that  every  scratch  of  a  pin 
makes  his  flesh  to  rankle  and  to  be  a  sore,  you  will 
say,  ''Surely  this  man's  body  is  very  corrupt,'  so  it  is 
Id   thy  spirit,   if  every   little  trouble   and  affliction 


shall  make  thee  discontented.  Or,  as  it  is  in  a 
wound  of  a  man's  body  ;  the  evil  of  a  wound  is  not 
so  much  in  the  largeness  of  the  wound,  and  in  the 
abundance  of  blood  that  comes  out  of  the  wountl, 
but  in  the  inflammation  that  there  is  in  it,  or  in  a 
fretting  and  corroding  humour  that  is  in  the  wound. 
An  unskilful  man  when  he  comes  and  sees  a  large 
wound  in  the  flesh,  looks  upon  it  as  dangerous,  and 
when  he  sees  a  great  deal  of  blood  gush  out,  he 
thinks  these  are  the  evils  of  it  ;  but  when  a  surgeon 
comes  and  sees  a  great  gash,  says  he,  "This  will 
be  healed  within  a  few  days."  But  there  is  a  less 
wo>«nd,  and  there  is  an  inflammation  or  a  fretting 
humc  -.r  that  is  in  it ;  "  and  this  will  cost  time,"  says 
he,  "  to  cure."  So  that  he  does  not  lay  balsam  and 
healing  salves  upon  it,  but  his  great  care  is  to  get 
out  the  fretting  humour  or  inflammation.  So  it  is 
in  the  souls  of  men.  It  may  be  that  there  is  some 
afl^iction  upon  them  that  I  compare  to  the  wound  ; 
now  they  think  that  the  greatness  of  the  afliiclion  is 
that  which  makes  their  condition  most  miserable. 
Oh  no  ;  there  is  a  fretting  humour  and  inflamma- 
tion in  the  heart,  a  murmuring  spirit  that  is  within 
thee,  and  that  is  the  misery  of  thy  condition,  and 
that  must  be  purged  out  oi  thee  before  thou  canst 

be  healed.  — Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

i 

4.  By  the  increase  of  self-knowledge. 

(1 718.)  You  will  never  come  to  get  any  skill  in 
this  mystery,  except  you  study  the  book  of  your  own 
heart  ;  and  this  will  help  you  to  contentment  these 
three  ways  : — 

1.  By  the  studying  of  thy  heart  thou  wilt 
come  presently  to  discover  wherein  thv  discontent 
lies.  Many  are  discontented,  and  know  not  where- 
fore ;  they  think  that  and  the  other  thing  is  the 
cause  :  but  a  man  that  knows  his  own  heart  will 
find  oi''t  presently  where  the  root  of  the  discontent 
lies,  that  it  lies  in  such  a  corruption  or  distemper  of 
the  heart. 

It  is  in  this  case  as  it  is  with  a  little  child  that  is 
very  frowarcl  in  the  house.  If  a  stranger  comes  in, 
he  does  not  know  what  the  matter  is  :  jierhaps  the 
stranger  will  give  the  child  a  rattle,  or  a  nut,  or  such 
thing  to  quiet  it.  But  when  the  nurse  comes,  she 
knows  the  disposition  of  the  child,  and  therefore 
knows  best  how  to  quiet  it.  So  it  is  here.  When 
we  are  strangers  with  our  own  hearts,  we  are 
mightily  discontent d,  and  know  not  how  to  quiet 
ourselves,  because  we  know  not  wherein  the  dis- 
quiet lies. 

So  a  man  that  has  a  watch,  and  understands  the 
use  of  every  wheel  and  pin  ;  if  it  goes  amiss,  he  will 
presently  find  out  the  cause  of  it  :  but  one  thai  has 
no  skill  in  a  watch,  when  it  goes  amiss,  he  knows 
not  what  the  matter  is,  and  therefore  cannot  mend 
it.  So  indeed  our  hearts  are  as  a  watch,  ami  there 
are  many  wheels  and  windings  and  turnings  there, 
and  we  should  labour  to  know  our  hearts  well,  that 
when  they  are  out  of  tune  we  may  know  what  the 
matter  is. 

2.  This  knowledge  of  our  hearts  will  help  us  to 
contentment,  because  by  this  we  shall  come  to  kitoin 
what  is  most  suitable  to  our  condition.  A  man  that 
knows  not  his  heart  thinks  not  what  need  he  has  of 
affliction,  and  upon  that  he  is  disquieted. 

3.  By  knowing  their  own  hearts,  they  know  what 
they  are  able  to  manage,  and  by  this  means  they  come 
to  be  content.  Countrymen  do  observe,  that  if  they 
overstock  their  lands,  it  will  quickly  spoil  them. 
And  so  a  wise  husbandman,  thni  knows  how  much 


DISCONTENT. 


(      302      ) 


DOING  GOOD. 


his  ground  will  bear,  is  not  troubled  that  he  has  not 
so  much  stock  as  others.  Why  ?  Because  he  knows 
that  he  has  not  ground  enough  for  so  great  a  stock, 
and  tliat  quiet's  liim.  So  many  men  and  women, 
that  know  not  their  own  hearts,  would  fain  have  a 
prosperous  estate  as  others  have  ;  but  if  they  knew 
their  own  hearts,  they  would  know  they  were  not 
alle  to  manage  it. 

If  one  of  your  little  children  of  three  or  four  years 
old  should  be  crying  for  the  coat  of  her  that  is 
twelve  or  fourteen  years  old,  and  say,  "Why  may  I 
not  have  a  coat  as  long  as  my  sister's  ?  "  If  she  had, 
she  would  soon  trip  up  her  heels,  and  break  her 
face;  but  when  the  child  comes  to  understanding, 
she  is  not  discontented  because  her  coat  is  not  so 
long  as  her  sister's,  but  says,  "  My  coat  is  tit  for 
me,"  and  therein  takes  content.  So  if  we  come  to 
understan^iing  in  the  school  of  Christ,  we  will  not 
cry,  "Why  have  not  I  such  an  estate  as  others 
have?"  The  Lord  sees  that  I  am  not  able  to  man- 
age it,  and  1  see  it  myself  by  the  knowing  of  my 
own  heart.  — Burroughs,  1 599- 1 646. 

5.  By  meditation  upon  what  Is  consonant  with 
our  condition  in  this  liie, 

(1719.)  While  I  live  in  the  world  my  condition  is 
to  be  but  a  pilgrim,  a  stranger,  a  traveller,  and  a 
soldier.  Now  the  right  understanding  of  this  ;  and 
being  taught  this,  not  only  by  rote,  that  1  can  speak 
the  words  over,  but  when  I  come  to  have  my  soul 
possessed  with  the  consideration  of  this  truth,  tliat 
God  has  set  me  in  this  world,  not  as  in  my  home,  but 
as  a  mere  stranger  and  a  pilgrim,  that  I  am  travelling 
here  to  another  home,  and  that  I  am  here  a  soldier 
in  my  warfare  ;  it  is  a  mighty  help  to  contentment, 
in  whatsoever  befalls  one.  As  now  to  instance  one 
of  these  conditions — 

When  a  man  is  at  home,  if  he  has  not  things 
according  to  his  desire  he  will  be  finding  fault. 
But  if  a  man  travels  abroad,  perhaps  he  meets  not 
with  convenience  as  he  desires  ;  yet  this  very 
thought  may  moderate  a  man's  spirit,  "  I  am  a 
traveller,  and  I  must  not  be  fmding  fault,  though 
things  be  not  so  as  in  my  own  family." 

if  a  man  meets  with  ill  weather,  he  must  be  con- 
lent.  "  It  is  traveller's  fare,"  we  use  to  say,  both 
fair  weather  and  foul  weather  ;  and  we  must  be 
Content  with  it.  If  a  man  were  at  home  and  it 
should  begin  to  drop  in  his  house,  he  cannot  bear 
it  ;  but  when  he  is  travelling  abroad,  though  he 
meet  with  rains  and  storms,  he  is  not  so  much 
troubled.  — Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

6.  By  a  discovery  of  the  interdependency  of 
Divine  providences. 

{1720.)  There  is  an  infinite  variety  of  the  works 
of  God  in  an  ordinary  providence,  and  yet  all  work 
in  an  orderly  way.  We  put  these  two  together,  for 
(jod  in  the  way  of  His  providence  causes  a  thousand 
'housand  things  one  to  depend  upon  another ;  there 
are  infinite  several  wheels,  as  I  may  say,  in  the 
works  of  providence  ;  all  the  works  that  ever  God 
did  from  all  eternity,  or  ever  will  do,  put  them  all 
together,  and  all  make  up  but  one  work,  and  they 
have  been  as  several  wheels  that  have  had  their 
orderly  motion  to  attain  the  end  that  God  from  all 
eternity  has  appointed.  We,  indeed,  look  at  things 
by  pieces,  we  look  at  one  particular  and  do  not 
consider  the  reference  that  that  one  thing  has  to 
another  ;  but  God  looks  at  all  things  at  once,  and 
sees  the  rela-^nce  that  one  thing  has  to  another  :  as 


a  child  that  looks  upon  a  clock,  looks'  first  upon 
one  wheel,  and  then  upon  any  other  wheel  ;  he 
looks  not  at  all  together,  or  the  dependence  that 
one  has  upon  anothei  ;  but  the  workman  has  his 
eyes  upon  all  together,  and  sees  the  dependence  of 
all  upon  one  another,  and  the  art  that  there  is  in 
the  dependence  of  one  upon  another.  So  it  is  in 
God's  providence. 

Now  observe  how  this  works  to  contentment. 
When  there  is  such  a  passage  of  providence  befalls 
me,  that  is  one  wheel,  and  it  may  be  if  this  one 
wheel  should  be  stopped,  there  might  a  thousand 
other  wheels  come  to  be  stopped  by  this  :  as  in  a 
clock,  slop  but  one  wheel,  and  you  stop  every 
wheel,  because  they  have  dependence  one  upon 
another.  So  when  God  has  ordered  a  thing  for  the 
present  to  be  thus  and  thus,  how  dost  thou  know 
how  many  things  depend  upon  this  one  thing? 
God  may  have  some  work  that  He  has  to  do  twenty 
years  hence  that  may  depend  upon  this  passage  of 
providence  that  falls  out  this  day  or  this  week. 

And  here  we  may  see  a  great  deal  of  evil  that 
there  is  in  discontent.  For  thou  wouldest  have 
God's  providence  altered  in  such  and  such  a  par- 
ticular ?  Indeed,  if  it  were  only  in  that  particular, 
and  that  had  reference  to  nothing  else,  it  were  not 
so  much  :  but  by  thy  desire  to  have  thy  will  in  such 
a  particular,  it  may  be  that  thou  wouldest  cross  God 
in  a  thousand  things  that  He  has  to  bring  about ; 
because  it  is  possible  there  may  be  a  thousand 
things  depending  upon  that  one  thing  that  thou 
wouldest  fain  have  to  be  otherwise  than  it  is.  Just 
as  if  a  child  should  cry  out  and  say,  "Let  but  that 
one  wheel  stop  : "  though  he  says  but  one  wheel, 
yet  if  that  stop,  it  is  as  much  as  if  he  should  say, 
they  must  all  stop.  So  in  providence  :  let  but 
this  one  passage  of  providence  stop,  and  it  is  as 
much  as  if  a  thousand  stopped.  Let  me  therefore 
be  quiet  and  content :  for  though  1  be  crossed  in 
some  one  particular,  God  attains  His  end,  at  least 
His  end  may  be  furthered  in  a  thousand  things  by 
this  one  thing  that  I  am  crossed  in.  Therefore  let 
a  man  consider,  this  is  an  act  of  providence,  and 
how  do  I  know  what  God  is  about  to  do,  and  how 
many  things  depend  upon  this  providence?  If  thou 
hast  a  love  and  friendship  to  God,  be  willing  to  be 
crossed  in  some  few  things,  that  the  Lord  may  have 
His  work  logo  on  in  the  universal  in  a  thousand 
other  things.  — Burroughs,  1599-1646. 


DOING  GOOD. 

I.  THE  DUTY  OF  EVERY  CHRISTIAIT. 

(172 1.)  As  burning  candles  give  light  until  they 
be  consumed,  so  godly  Christians  must  be  occupied 
in  doing  good  as  long  as  they  live. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

(1722.)  As  Apelles  the  painter  much  lamented  if 
he  should  escape  but  one  day  without  drawing  some 
picture  or  line  :  so  ought  a  Christian  to  be  sorry  if 
any  day  should  pass  without  some  good  work  or 
exercise.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

II.  POSSIBLE  TO  EVERY  ONE. 

(1723.)  What  is  a  bud  in  a  forest?  yet  is  it 
beautiful  as  if  alone.  What  is  one  snowfl^e  of 
the  mantle  ths'  wraps  the  mountain  top?  yet  is  it 
perfect  as  it  alone,   and  leflects  part  of  the  early 


DOING  GOOD. 


(     303     ) 


DOING  GOOD. 


pjlden  light  of  the  advancing  sun.  Each  man  is  a 
man,  and  may  have  his  individuality  of  work  and 
worth.  A  good  man  among  the  good  is  as  one  of 
the  drops  on  which  God  paints  the  rarinbow  ;  for 
good  men  are  to  the  world  its  rainbow  of  Divine 
promise  and  hope  ;  and  the  goodness  of  no  man  is 
lost.  Every  raindrop  does  its  part  in  dissolving 
light  into  colour ;  and  though  we  may  seem  to  our- 
selves like  those  drops  which,  falling  near  our 
window,  make  to  us  no  part  of  the  bow,  yet  we  too 
have  our  brightness  and  place,  forming  part  of  the 
arch  ns  seen  by  some — that  arch  which  "the  hands 
of  the  Most  High  have  bended."  And  not  only  has 
the  individual  good  man  ever  due  place  among  the 
many — at  times  his  individual  goodness  may  have  a 
worth  quite  special.  One  man  of  pure,  and  merciful, 
and  patient  life,  shall  at  times  better  represent  God 
to  us  than  shall  the  Church,  or  what  by  us  is  so 
named  ;  even  as  on  a  drop  of  morning  dew,  lying 
calm  and  still,  a  more  perfect  image  of  the  sun 
appears  than  on  the  vast  sea  distracted  by  tumultu- 
ous winds.  On  the  sea  there  is  a  wide  diffused 
lustre  ;  but  on  the  dewdrop  a  serene,  clear  brightness. 
We,  and  our  wo.k  and  our  history,  all  have  worth, 
and  may  have  special  worth. 

— Lynch,  1818-1871. 

(1724.)  I  know  a  man  [Thomas  Wright]  who  at 
the  close  of  each  Jay's  work  turned  his  steps  to  the 
prison,  and  with  his  Bible,  or  on  his  knees  on  the 
floor,  spent  the  evening  hours  in  its  gloomy  cells, 
seeking  to  instruct  the  ignorant  and  reclaim  the 
criminal  and  raise  the  fallen.  The  judgment  day 
shall  show  how  many  he  restored,  penitent  and 
pardoned,  to  the  bosom  of  God  ;  but  it  is  certain 
that,  alone  and  smgle-handed,  he  rescued  and  re- 
formed four  hundred  criminals,  restoring  them, 
honest  and  well-doing  men,  to  the  bosom  of  society. 

— Gilt  line. 

(1725.)  You  SAy,  "What  can  I  do?  I  have  no 
power,  nor  influence,  nor  name,  nor  talents,  nor 
money  !"  Look  at  the  coral-reef  yonder,  where  it 
encircles  the  fair  isles  that  lie,  like  bright  gems,  on 
the  bosom  of  the  Pacific,  or,  by  Australian  shores, 
stretches  its  unbroken  wall  for  a  thousand  leagues 
along  the  sea.  How  contemptible  the  architects ; 
yet  the  aggr-egate  of  their  labours,  mocking  our  great- 
est breakwaters,  how  colossal  !  So  it  ought  to  be, 
and  would  be,  in  our  congregations,  were  every  man 
and  eveiy  woman  to  feel  their  own  individual  re- 
sponsibilities ;  would  each  go  to  Christ,  saying, 
Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do? — would  they 
but  rise  to  the  height  of  their  calling.  I  know  that 
all  cannot  be  bright  and  burning  lights  ;  that  honour 
is  reserved  for  John  Baptist  and  a  few  such  men. 
But  see  how  that  candle  in  a  cottage  window  sends 
out  its  rays  streaming  far  through  the  depths  of 
night.  Why  should  not  we  shine,  though  but  like 
that? — shine,  though  it  should  be  to  illumine  only 
the  narrow  walls  of  our  country's  humblest  liome. 

Consider  how  the  greatest  things  ever  clone  on 
earth  have  been  done  by  little  and  little — little 
agents,  little  persons,  and  little  things.  How  was 
the  wall  restored  around  Jerusalem?  By  each  man, 
whether  his  house  was  an  old  palace  or  the  rudest 
cabin,  building  the  breach  before  his  own  door. 
How  was  the  soil  of  the  New  World  redeemed  from 
gloomy  forests?  By  each  sturdy  emigrant  cultivat- 
ing tfie  patch  round  Sis  own  log  hut.  How  have 
the  greatest  battles  been  wa"  ?    Not  by  the  gererals 


who  got  their  breasts  blazoned  with  stars,  and  theii 
brows  crowned  with  honours,  but  by  the  rank  and 
file— every  man  holding  his  own  post,  and  ready  to 
die  on  the  battle-field.  They  won  the  victory  !  It 
was  achieved  by  the  blood  and  courage  of  the  many  : 
and  1  say,  if  the  world  is  ever  to  be  conquered  foi 
our  Lord,  it  is  not  by  ministers,  nor  by  office-bearers, 
nor  by  the  great,  and  noble,  and  mighty,  \-\\\  by 
every  member  of  Christ's  body  being  a  working 
member  ;  doing  their  own  work  ;  filling  their  own 
sphere ;  holding  their  own  post  ;  and  saying  te 
Jesus,  "Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do?  " 

— Guthrie, 

(1726.)  Many  persons  high  in  station,  who  would 
not  permit  an  equal  or  a  superior  to  speak  to  them 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  will  take  very  kindly  the 
preaching  of  a  person  who  makes  no  pretensions, 
and  whose  position  and  carriage  indicate  that  he 
comes  to  them  deferentially. 

If  you  go  to  the  door  of  a  man  who  has  great 
official  influence  or  power,  you  will  see  crowds 
thronging  thither  to  get  access  to  him  ;  and  one  can 
get  in  because  he  is  tlie  governor  of  a  state  ;  anothtr 
because  he  is  a  senator  ;  another,  because  he  con- 
trols such  and  such  pecuniary  or  political  influences. 
But  there  is  a  whole  swarm  who  cannot  get  in. 
They  are  not  known,  and  are  shuffled  to  one  side. 
But  while  the  door  is  open,  and  the  governor  and 
senator  and  influential  men  are  going  in,  a  little 
dog  slips  in,  because  he  is  a  dog.  A  man  would 
not  be  allowed  to  go  in,  but  a  dog  is. 

I  would  rather  go  into  a  great  man's  heart  as  a 
dog,  than  to  be  shut  out  because  I  was  a  man.  A 
little  man  who  does  not  put  too  much  on  himself, 
and  is  willing  to  go  in  anyhow,  oftentimes  t;ets  the 
liberty  of  slipping  in  at  the  door  of  a  man's  disposi- 
tion, when,  if  he  were  a  great  man,  he  would  not  be 
permitted  to  go  in.  The  trouble  is  not  that  you  are 
so  humble,  but  that  you  are  not  humble  enough. 
It  is  because,  being  little,  you  are  not  willing  to  do 
the  work  that  a  little  man  can  do.  If  you  could 
only  forget  yourself;  if  the  thought  never  came  up 
whether  you  were  big  or  little  ;  if  you  had  a  grateful 
sense  of  what  Christ  has  done  for  you,  and  a  realisa- 
tion of  the  peril  which  hangs  over  a  man's  head  all 
the  time  ;  if  you  carried  the  man  in  your  heart 
night  and  day,  and  could  not  get  rid  of  him,  if  you 
prayed  for  him,  and  yearned  after  him,  and  desired 
his  good, — with  that  state  of  mind  you  might  safely 
venture  to  go  to  him.  Under  such  circumstances, 
do  not  stop  to  ask,  "Am  I  fitted  to  undertake  this 
work?"  You  will  find  that  out  when  you  have 
tried.  What  if  you  get  a  rebuff' ?  It  will  not  do 
you  any  hurt,  and  it  may  do  you  much  good.  At 
any  rale,  Christ  took  buffets  for  our  sake  ;  and  we 
ouglit  to  be  willing  to  take  buffets,  not  only  for  His 
sake,  but  for  others'  sakes. 

The  persons  that  bring  the  most  souls  to  Christ 
are  not  those  who  have  the  greatest  overt  power  in 
the  world,  but  those  who  are  the  most  gentle,  un- 
assuming, earnest,  and  sincere.  — Beecher. 

(1727.)  Nellie  Trafton  had  been  a  sufferer  almo.st 
all  her  life  fro/n  a  bad  disease  of  the  lungs.  One 
desire  little  Nell  had  above  all  others  ;  and  that 
was,  to  become  a.  missionary  when  she  should  be 
old  enough.  One  day  she  suddenly  exclaimed, 
"  What  is  the  use  in  my  waiting  until  I  am  grown 
up  before  I  do  any  good  ?     I  mean  to  try  now  1  " 

So    Nellie    planned   and    worked,    and    got    up 


DOING  GOOD. 


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DOING  GOOD. 


S  Ik.le  sewing-society,  with  a  young  lady  to  help 
the  children  and  direct  it.  At  the  end  they  bad 
some  tableaux,  and  sold  the  little  things  they  had 
made.  And  how  much  do  you  think  they  earned  ? 
About  one  hundred  dollars  !  Was  not  that  some- 
thing for  a  sick  girl  to  do  ?  And  what  do  you  think 
they  did  with  the  money?  They  sent  't  to  help  to 
support  a  teacher  for  a  school  of  coloured  children 
down  South. 

If  a  little  girl  who  was  sick  nearly  all  the  time 
could  do  so  much,  what  cannot  the  well  ones  do  if 
they  try  ?  Ah  !  that  last  word  is  the  key  to  it  all ; 
only  TRY ! 

III.  THE  POWER  FOR  GOOD  THAT  LIES 
LA  TENT  IN  EVERY  CHURCH. 

(1728.)  In  looking  over  some  vast  assembly,  with 
its  sea  of  human  faces,  one  reflection  naturally  sug- 
gests itself — in  a  few  years  they  shall  be  all  moulder- 
ing in  the  dust.  There  is  another  and  yet  more 
solemn  thought  ; — our  minds  are  carried  forward  to 
that  day,  when  the  graves  of  a  thousand  generations 
having  given  up  their  dead,  all  eyes,  instead  of 
being  turned  on  a  poor  mortal  man,  shall,  some 
beaming  with  joy  and  others  black  with  despair,  be 
fixed  on  the  great  white  throne  and  Mim  that  sits 
crowned  thereon.  But  there  is  a  third  thoig.it  that 
presses  on  me  whenever  1  cast  my  eyes  over  some 
such  great  assembly,  and  see  all  these  human  faces  ; 
it  is  this, — What  power  is  here  !  what  an  immense 
moral  power  1 

You  may  smile  at  him  who,  standing  by  the 
cataract  of  Niagara,  as  gathering  her  waters  from  a 
hundred  lakes  she  rolled  them  over  with  the  roar 
of  a  hundred  thunders,  instead  of  being  filled  with 
sublime  admiration  of  the  scene,  began  to  calculate 
how  much  machinery  that  water-]iower  would  turn. 
You  may  smile  at  that  utilitarianism.  But  it  is  a 
serious,  solemn,  stirring  thought  to  think  how  much 
moral  machinery  all  this  power  now  before  me 
could  turn  for  good,  were  every  scheming  brain, 
and  busy  hand,  and  willing  heart,  engaged  in  the 
service  of  God.  I  hope  many  of  you  are  active, 
zealous  Christians.  But  were  all  of  us  so, — were 
all  Christian  men  and  women  so,  what  honour 
would  accrue  to  God  !  what  a  revenue  of  glory  to 
Jesus  Christ,  and  what  invaluable  service  to  re- 
ligion !     Thousands  on  thousands  might  be  saved  ! 

It  is  impossible  to  overestimate,  or  rather  to 
estimate,  the  power  that  lies  latent  in  our  churches. 
We  talk  of  the  power  latent  in  steam  —latent  till 
"Watt  evoked  its  spirit  from  the  waters,  and  set  the 
giant  to  turn  the  iron  arms  of  machinery.  We  talk 
of  the  power  that  was  latent  in  the  skies  till  science 
climbed  their  heights,  and  seizing  the  spirit  of  the 
thunder,  chained  it  to  our  service — abolishing  dis- 
tance ;  outstripping  the  wings  of  time  ;  and  flashing 
our  thoughts  across  rolling  seas  to  distant  continents. 
Yet  what  are  these  to  the  moral  power  that  lies 
asleep  in  the  congregations  of  our  country,  and  of 
the  Christian  world  ?  And  why  latent  ?  Because 
men  and  women  neither  appreciate  their  indiviiiual 
influence,  nor  estimate  aright  their  own  individual 
responsibilities.  They  cannot  do  everything  ;  there- 
fore they  do  nothing.  They  cannot  blaze  like  a 
Star  ;  and  therefore  they  won't  shine  like  a  glow- 
worm ;  and  so  they  are  content  that  the  few  work, 
and  that  the  many  look  on.  Not  thus  are  the 
woods  clothed  in  green  ;  but  by  every  little  leaf  ex- 
panding its  own  form.     Not  thus  are  fields  covered 


with    golden    corn  ;    but    by    every   Etaik    of  grain 
ripening  its  own   head.     Not  thus  does  the  coral 
reef  rise  from  the  depths  of  ocean  ;  but   by  even 
little  insect  building  its  own  rocky  cell. 

— Guthrie. 

IV.  DEMANDS  SELF-DENIAL. 

(1729.)  Christ  did  not  redeem  and  save  poor 
souls  by  sitting  in  majesty  on  His  heavenly  throne 
but  by  hanging  on  the  shameful  cross. 

V.  DIFFICULTIES  ARE  NOT  TO  DETER 
US. 

(1730.)  It  is  poor  water  that  will  not  run  down 
hill.  The  person  who  will  not  do  good  when  it  is 
easier  to  do  good  than  not  to  do  it  I  call  a  very 
poor  Christian  indeed.  Doing  good  under  such 
circumstances  does  not  amount  to  much  either. 
That  is  a  poor  engine  that  can  only  drive  water 
through  hose  or  pipes  down  hill.  A  good  engine  is 
one  that  can  lift  large  quantities  of  water  up  steep 
acclivities.  Those  vast  giants  of  iron  at  the  Ridge- 
wood  Water-works,  which  supply  this  city,  day  and 
night,  easily  lifting  a  ton  of  water  at  every  gush,  so 
that  all  the  many  thirsty  faucet-mouths  throughout 
our  streets  cannot  exhaust  their  fullness, — those  are 
the  engines  that  I  admire. 

There  are  many  Christians  that  can  pump  down 
hill ;  and  they  are  very  conceited  frequently,  and 
say,  "  See  what  I  am  doing.  Seethe  pulsations  of 
my  heart.  Stand  out  of  the  way  1  "  But  anybody 
can  do  all  that  they  are  doing.  — Beeclur. 

VI.  OPPORTUNITIES  FOR  DOING  GOOD 
SHOULD  BE  EAGERLY  SEIZED. 

(1731.)  If  cruelty  has  its  expiations  and  its  re- 
morses, generosity  has  its  chances  and  its  turns  of 
good  fortune  ;  as  if  Providence  reserved  them  for 
fitting  occasions,  that  noble  hearts  may  not  be  dis- 
couraged. — Lamariine, 

VII.  MODES  OF  DOING  GOOD. 

(1732.)  In  one  of  the  boxes  sent  to  us  by  the 
American  Sanitary  Commission  was  a  Patch-work 
quilt  of  unusual  softness  and  lightness.  When  we 
opened  it,  we  found  a  note  pinned  to  it.  I  read  as 
follows:  — 

'  I  have  made  this  Scripture  quilt  for  one  of 
the  Hospital  beds,  for  I  thought  that  whilst  it 
would  be  a  comfort  to  the  poor  body,  it  might  si)eak 
a  word  of  good  to  the  precious  soul  ;  the  words  are 
so  beautiful  and  blessed,  and  full  of  balm  and  heal- 
ing !  May  it  be  blessed  to  the  dear  boys  in  the 
army,  amongst  whom  I  have  a  son.'  It  was  made 
of  square  blocks  of  calico  and  white  cotton  inter- 
mingled, and  on  every  white  block  was  written  a 
verse  from  the  Bible  or  a  couplet  from  one  of  our 
best  hymns.  On  the  central  block,  in  letters  so 
large  as  to  catch  the  careless  eye,  was  that  faithful 
saying,  in  which  is  our  hope  and  strength — '  Christ 
Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners.'  And 
below  it,  the  prayer  of  all  prayers,  "  God  be  merci- 
ful to  me  a  sinner.'  The  head  border  which  would 
be  nearest  the  sick  man's  eye,  and  oftenest  read,  had 
the  sweetest  texts  of  promise,  and  love,  and  comfort. 
Amongst  them  I  read,  'God  so  loved  the  world, 
that  He  gave  His  only-begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish.'  '  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy-laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest,'     '  Ho,  every  one  that  ihirsteth. 


DOING  GOOD. 


(     30s    ) 


DOING  GOOD. 


come  ye  to  the  waters  !  *  'I  sought  the  Lord,  and 
He  heard  me,  and  delivered  me  from  all  my  fears.' 
'Oh,'  we  said,  'that  all  our  beds  had  such  quilts  ! 
God  will  surely  speak  through  these  texts  to  the 
sick  and  wounded  men  !  They  will  read  them 
when  they  will  read  nothing  else.  Who  knows 
how  much  good  they  will  do  ! '  To  sufferer  after 
sufferer  who  lay  under  it,  this  quilt  was  a  source 
of  interest,  and  to  some  the  means  of  life  and 
peace.  At  last  came  the  boy  who  had  best 
right  to  the  comfort  of  our  Scripture  quilt — the 
'son  '  of  whom  the  good  woman  who  made  it  spoke 
in  the  note  attached.  It  was  a  strange  circumstance 
that  he  should  have  come  to  lie  beneath  it,  but  so 
it  was.  He  had  lain  there  nearly  senseless  for  more 
than  a  week,  when  I  saw  him  kiss  the  patch-work.  I 
thought  he  might  be  wandering,  or  if  not,  had 
found  a  text  of  hope  or  consolation  that  seemed  to 
suit  his  need,  and  marked  with  my  eye  the  place  he 
had  kissed,  to  see  what  it  was.  It  was  no  text, 
but  a  calico  block,  the  pattern  a  little  crimson  leaf 
on  a  dark  ground.  He  kept  looking  at  it,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  I  was  almost  sure  his  mind 
was  wandering.  Nay,  he  was  never  more  in  his 
right  mind,  and  his  thoughts  were  at  home  with 
his  mother.  A  bit  of  the  gown  he  had  so  often 
seen  her  wear  had  carried  him  back  to  her.  He 
kissed  it  again.  I  approached  him.  He  looked 
up  and  smiled  through  his  tears.  '  Do  you  know 
where  this  quilt  came  from?'  he  asked.  'Some 
good  woman  sent  it  to  us  through  the  Sanitary 
Commission.'  'You  don't  know  her  name,  nor 
where  it  came  from  ?  '  '  No,  but  I  saved  a  note 
that  was  pinned  to  the  quilt.'  Would  you  be  will- 
ing to  let  me  see  it  some  time  when  it's  convenient  ? ' 
'  Oh  yes.  I'll  get  it  now.'  I  got  it  for  him,  his 
hand  trembled,  and  his  lips  grew  white  as  he  opened 
it  and  saw  the  writing.  '  Please  read  it  to  me  quite 
slowly,' he  said,  returning  it.  I  read  it.  'Itisfrom 
my  mother ;  shall  you  keep  it  ? '  '  Yes '  I  answered, 
'  1  value  it  very  much,  as  also  the  quilt.'  He  put 
his  hands  over  his  eyes.  I  thought  he  wished  to 
be  alone,  and  left  him.  As  I  stood  by  his  bed  the 
rvext  day,  I  was  wondering  if  he  had  not  seen  his 
mother's  texts,  as  well  as  the  bit  of  her  gown.  He 
had,  and  pointed  out  one  to  me.  It  was,  '  Father, 
I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  in  Thy  sight,  and 
am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  Thy  son.'  '  I  am 
no  more  worthy,'  he  whispered.  I  put  my  finger 
on  the  next  white  block,  and  read  aloud,  '  When  he 
was  yet  a  great  way  off,  his  father  saw  him  and  had 
compassion,  and  ran  and  fell  on  his  neck  and  kissed 
him.'  As  I  looked  up,  I  saw  there  were  tears  upon 
his  cheeks,  and  his  lips  were  tremulous.  He 
covered  his  eyes,  and  I  left  him.  A  few  days  after, 
when  he  had  grown  much  stronger,  he  held  up  to 
me  the  text  I  had  shown  him.  '  1  was  a  great  way 
off,'  he  said,  'but  He  has  met  me  and  had  com- 
passion on  me.'  'You  feel  the  Saviour's  love?' 
'  It  fills  me  with  peace.'  '  What  love  !  What  a 
Saviour  ! '  I  said,  in  my  thanksgiving.  '  Shall  I 
not  write  to  your  mother  and  tell  her  that  her  son, 
who  was  dead,  is  alive  again  ;  was  lost,  and  is 
found  ?  '  '  Will  it  not  be  too  much  trouble  ?  '  '  Oh 
no !  a  pleasure  instead  ! '  I  wrote  the  blessed 
tidings,  making  the  mother's  heart  rejoice.  And 
now  our  Scripture  quilt  was  even  dearer  and  more 
sacred  than  before 

VIII.     THE  HIGHEST  FORM  OF  DOING  GOOD. 
(1733.)  To  do  good  to  men  is  the  great  work  of 


life  ;  to  make  them  true  Christians  is  the  greatest 
good  we  can  do  them.  Every  investigation  brings 
us  round  to  this  point.  Begin  here,  and  you  are 
like  one  who  strikes  water  from  a  rock  on  the 
summits  of  the  mountains ;  it  flows  down  all  the 
intervening  tracts  to  the  very  base.  If  we  could 
make  each  man  love  his  neighbour,  we  should  make 
a  happy  world.  The  true  method  is  to  begin  with 
ourselves,  and  so  to  extend  the  circle  to  all  around 
us.     It  should  be  perpetually  in  our  minds. 

—J.  IV.  AUxander. 

IX.  THE    SUPREME   QUALIFICATION    FOR 

DOING  GOOD. 

(1734.)  We  can  do  more  good  by  being  good  than 
in  any  other  way.  — Rowland  Hill. 

(1735)  As  for  doing  good,  that  is  one  of  the  pro- 
fessions which  are  full.  What  good  1  do,  in  the 
common  sense  of  that  word,  must  be  aside  from  my 
main  path,  and  for  the  most  part  wholly  unintendetl. 
Men  say,  practically.  Begin  where  you  are,  and  such 
as  you  are,  without  aiming  mainly  to  become  of 
more  worth,  and  with  kindness  aforethought  go 
about  doing  good.  If  I  were  to  preach  at  all  in 
this  strain,  I  should  say,  rather,  Set  about  being 
good.  As  if  the  sun  should  stop  when  he  had 
kindled  his  fires  up  to  the  splendour  of  a  moon  or 
a  star  of  the  sixth  magnitude,  and  go  about  like  a 
Robin  Goodfellow,  peeping  in  at  every  cottage  win- 
dow, inspiring  lunatics,  and  tainting  meats,  and 
making  darkness  visible,  instead  of  steadily  increas- 
ing his  genial  heat  and  beneficence  till  he  is  of  such 
brightness  that  no  mortal  can  look  him  in  the  face, 
and  then,  and  in  the  meanwhile  too,  going  about 
the  world  in  his  own  orbit,  doing  it  good,  or  rather, 
as  a  truer  philosophy  has  discovered,  the  world 
going  about  him  getting  good.  — Thoreau. 

X.  ITS  REWARDS. 

1.  Personal  invigoratlon  and  comfort. 

(1736.)  Doing  good  is  the  best  way  for  receiving 
good  :  he  that  in  pity  to  a  poor  man  that  is  almost 
starved,  will  but  fall  to  rubbing  him,  shall  get  him« 
self  heat,  and  both  be  gainers. 

— Baxter,  161 5- 1 69 1. 

(1737.)  All  the  purest  ordinances  and  churches 
will  not  afford  that  solid  comfort,  ab  the  converting 
of  a  few  sinners  by  our  unwearied,  compassionate 
exhortations.  Two  men  in  a  frosty  season  come 
where  a  company  of  people  are  ready  to  starve  ;  the 
one  of  them  laps  himself,  and  taketh  shelter,  for 
fear  lest  he  should  perish  with  them  ;  the  other,  in 
pity,  falls  to  rub  them  that  he  may  recover  heat  in 
them,  and  while  he  laboureth  hard  to  help  them,  he 
getteth  far  better  heat  to  himself  than  his  unprofit- 
able companion  doth.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

2.  True  and  unexpected  happiness. 

(1738.)  As  every  faithful  minister  is  never  so  well 
pleased  as  when  he  doth  most  for  the  good  of  souls  ; 
so  it  is  with  every  faithful  Christian.  A  candle  if 
it  be  not  burnt,  is  lost  and  good  for  nothing. 

—Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1739.)  Alexander,  the  Emperor,  was  one  day  out 
hunting  ;  and  having  gone  ahead  of  his  suite,  he 
fancied  he  heard  a  groan  :  the  groan  pierced  his 
heart  ;  he  alighted  on  the  spot,  looked  around  him 
and  found  a  poor  man  at  the  point  of  death.  He 
bent  over  him,  chafed  his  temples,  excited  the  poor 

U 


DOING  GOOD. 


(    306    ) 


DOING  GOOD. 


man  or  tried  to  do  so  ;  he  vent  by  a  public  road, 
and  called  the  attention  of  a  surgeon  to  the  case 
of  the  poor  man.  "Oh!"  said  the  surgeon, 
"he  is  dead  :  he  is  dead."  "Try  what  you  can  do," 
said  Alexander.  "He  is  dead,"  said  the  surgeon. 
"Try  what  you  tan  do."  The  surgeon  adopted  a 
set  of  experimental  processes  at  the  command  of  the 
Emperor  ;  arid  at  last  a  drop  of  blood  appeared. 
At  the  mouth  of  the  opened  vein  there  was  suction  ; 
respiration  was  forming  in  the  chest  of  the  man. 
Alexander's  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  he  said — "Oh! 
this  is  the  happiest  day  of  my  life ;  I  have  saved 
another  man's  life  !  " 

What  says  another  great  man  among  ourselves — 
Lord  Eldon?  In  a  letter  to  his  sister  which  he 
wrote  in  his  old  age,  after  he  had  retired  from  the 
honours  of  office,  he  says — "  It  was  my  duty,  as 
Lord  Chancellor,  to  listen  to  the  record  of  the 
sentenc»6  passed  by  the  Re<:order  of  the  City  of 
London.  It  used  to  be  a  formal  thing,  when  the 
sentences  of  death  were  read  over  that  the  Chancel- 
lor should  give  his  assent ;  but  I  determined  after 
the  first  time  that  I  would  go  into  each  case,  and 
have  each  case  clearly  and  distinctly  stated.  It 
used  to  give  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  addition 
to  all  my  other  duties  ;  but  the  consequence  of  this 
was,  that  I  saved  the  lives  of  several  persons."  I 
say,  do  good  in  the  cause  of  truth  and  righteousness, 
and  you  will  promote  your  own  honour  and  happi- 
ness ;  and  when  the  eye  sees  you,  it  will  bless  you  ; 
and  when  the  ear  hears  you,  it  will  bear  witness  to 
you.  — Bean7nont. 

{1740.)  It  is  recorded  of  a  man  who  ii'd  made 
an  ample  fortune  and  had  retired  to  a  country  seat 
to  enjoy  it,  that  when  he  had  nothing  to  do  he 
became  absolutely  wretched  ;  so  wretched  that  he 
formed  the  horrible  idea  of  committing  suicide. 
Going  to  drown  himself  he  met  a  poor  woman  who 
had  not  tasted  bread  for  four  and  twenty  hours  ; 
cold — ragged — wretched —  starving  —  she  implored 
aid,  he  gave  her  a  shilling;  and  the  grateful  smile 
reflected  from  the  starving  woman's  face  arrested  his 
career,  and  he  retumed  a  wiser  and  a  better  man, 
saying  to  himself,  "  If  God  makes  me  the  instru- 
ment of  giving  happiness  by  the  gift  of  a  shilling',  I 
think  He  must  have  more  work  for  me  to  do  in  the 
world."  If  any  do  not  know  what  to  do,  and  there- 
fore cannot  find  happiness  in  the  world,  let  them 
apply  at  the  nearest  Sunday-school  for  work  as 
teachers.  Visit  the  first  day-school  and  take  an 
interest  in  it.  Follow  a  city  missionary  in  his  labcri- 
ous,  and  arduous,  and  excellent  toil  ;  and  you  will 
reap  blessings  in  that  poor  man's  footsteps.  If  you 
want  to  be  happy,  do  good,  if  you  wish  to  rejoice, 
begin  to  be  beneficent.  This  is  the  law  that  God 
has  made.  In  every  age,  in  every  circumstance,  in 
every  sphere,  it  has  been  proved  to  be  practically 
true  ;  make  the  experiment,  and  you  will  find  it  is 
so  stilL  — Cumming. 

(1741.)  In  seeking  others*  good,  we  achieve  good 
ourselves.  I  know  of  no  way  to  get  rid  of  a  great 
deal  of  the  prevalent  dulness,  and  drowsiness,  and 
spiritual  ennui  with  which  many  of  God  s  children 
are  afllicted,  than  by  shaking  it  off  like  cobwebs, 
and  going  to  work.  Work  is  the  necessary  pre- 
requisite of  growth  ;  and  exercise,  of  health  and 
developmt'.nt.  ^Vhen  good  Christian  people  tell  me 
about  being  in  a  saddened  condition,  when  they 
confess  to  a  state  of  spiritual  stagi\ation,  and  say,  *  I 


am  making  but  little  progress  in  this  heavenly  way,' 
it  does  not  seem  wondei.*"ul  at  all.  The  man  who 
does  not  work  has  no  right  to  expect  anything  but 
distrust  and  dissatisfaction,  and  depriva'.ioii,  and 
ultimate  degradation,  and  he  will  get  it  sooner  or 
later.  For  any  Christian  man  to  suppose  that  he  is 
simply  a  piece  of  sanctified  sponge,  to  continuously 
absorb  the  light  and  life  of  others  and  grow,  is 
sheer  nonsense.  He  will  by  and  by  rot  I  He 
will  not  be  able  to  keep,  even  with  salt.  If  you 
would  be  healthily  developevl,  work.  If  there  is  a 
single  organ  of  the  body  that  is  weak,  use  it  well 
and  use  it  long,  and  strength  will  come  to  it.  So 
with  regard  to  your  spiritual  life.  There  is  no  such 
beneficent  arrangement  for  spiritual  growth  like  the 
effort  to  prove  a  blessing  to  mankind. 

— Ormiston. 

(1742.)  If  we  view  this  microcosm,  the  human 
body,  we  shall  find  that  the  heart  does  not  receive 
the  blood  to  store  it  up,  but  while  it  pumps  it  in  at 
one  valve,  it  sends  it  forth  at  another.  The  blood 
is  always  circulating  everywhere,  and  is  stagnant 
nowhere  ;  the  same  is  true  of  all  the  fluids  in  a 
healthy  body,  they  are  in  a  constant  state  of  expen- 
diture. If  one  cell  stores  for  a  few  moments  its 
peculiar  secretion,  it  only  retains  it  till  it  is  perfectly 
fitted  for  its  appointed  use  in  the  body  ;  for  if  any 
cell  in  the  body  should  begin  to  store  up  its  secretion, 
its  store  would  soon  become  the  cause  of  inveterate 
disease ;  nay.  the  organ  would  soon  lose  the  power 
to  secrete  at  all,  if  it  did  not  give  forth  its  products. 
The  whole  of  the  human  system  lives  by  giving. 
The  eye  cannot  say  to  the  foot,  I  have  no  need  of 
thee,  and  will  not  guide  thee  ;  for  if  it  does  not  per- 
form its  watchful  office,  the  whole  man  will  be  in  the 
ditch,  and  the  eye  will  be  covered  with  mire.  If 
the  members  refuse  to  contribute  to  the  genera* 
stock,  the  whole  body  will  become  poverty-stricken, 
and  be  given  up  to  the  bankruptcy  of  death.  Let 
us  learn,  then,  from  the  analogy  of  nature,  the  great 
lesson,  that  to  get,  we  must  give  ;  that  to  accumulate, 
we  must  scatter  ;  that  to  make  ourselves  happy,  we 
must  make  others  happy  ;  and  that  to  get  good  and 
become  spiritually  vigorous,  we  must  do  good,  and 
seek  the  spiritual  good  of  others.         — Spiirgeon. 

(1743.)  A  physician  was  once  returning  to  his 
home,  when  he  saw  a  little  child  in  great  peril  in 
the  street.  Another  instant  she  would  have  been 
crushed  under  the  iron  hoofs  which  were  almost 
upon  her.  At  great  peril  to  himself,  he  rushed  for- 
ward, and  seizing  the  little  one,  bore  her  in  safety 
to  the  sidewalk.  Curiosity  impelled  him  to  look 
into  the  child's  face  that  he  might  see  if  he  knew 
whom  he  had  rescued.  Pushing  back  the  little  bon- 
net, what  were  his  feelings  to  see  that  it  was  his 
own  little  daughter  whose  life  he  had  saved.  So  he 
who  hastes  to  save  the  perishing  often  finds  rewards 
he  little  dreamed  of.  "  Whatever  thy  hands  fmd 
to  do,  do  it  with  all  your  might." 

8.  True  glory. 

(1744)  If  there  be  nothing  so  glorious  as  doing 
good,  if  there  is  nothing  that  makes  us  so  like  God, 
then  nothing  can  be  so  glorious  in  the  use  of  our 
money  as  to  use  it  all  in  works  of  love  and  goodnesi 

— Law. 

(1745.)  Some  men  live  in  their  good  deeds,  and 
j  like  a  beautiful  insect,  or  a  delicate  moss  preserved 


EDUCATION. 


(    307     ) 


EDUCATION. 


In  a  mass  of  golden,  aromatic  amber,  seem  to  lie 
embalmed  in  the  memory  of  their  worth. 

— Guthrie. 
4.  The  approval  of  Christ. 

(1746.)  A  Russian  soldier,  one  very  cold,  piercing 
night,  kept  duty  between  one  sentry-box  anil 
another.  A  poor  working  man,  moved  with  pity, 
took  off  his  coat  and  lent  it  to  the  soldier  to  keep 
him  warm  ;  adding  that  he  should  soon  reach  home, 
while  the  soldier  would  be  exposed  out  of  doors  for 
the  night.  The  cold  was  so  intense  tliat  the  soldier 
was  found  dead  in  the  morning.  Some  time  after- 
wards the  poor  man  was  laid  on  his  death-bed,  and 
in  a  dream  saw  Jesus.  "  You  have  got  my  ccat 
on,"  said  the  man.  "Yes,  it  is  the  coat  you  lent 
to  me  that  cold  night  when  I  was  on  duty,  and  you 
passed  by.     '  I  was  naked,  and  you  clothed  Me.'  " 


EDUCATION. 

1.  Its  nature. 

(1747.)  Real  knowledge,  like  everything  else  of 
the  highest  value,  is  not  to  be  obtained  easily.  It 
mMSt  be  worked  for, — studied  for, — thought  for, — 
and  more  than  all,  it  must  be  prayed  for.  And 
that  is  education  which  lays  the  foundation  of  such 
habits, — and  gives  them,  so  far  a  boy's  early  age 
will  allow,  their  proper  exercise. 

— Arnold,  1 795-1842. 

(1748.)  Because  education  is  a  dynamical,  not  a 
mechanical  process,  the  more  powerful  and  vigor- 
ous the  mind  of  the  teacher,  the  more  clearly  and 
readily  he  can  grasp  things,  the  better  fitted  he  is  to 
cultivate  the  mind  of  another.  .And  to  this  I  find 
myself  coming  more  and  more  ;  I  care  less  and  less 
for  information,  more  and  more  for  the  true  exercise 
of  the  mind  ;  for  answering  questions  concisely  and 
comjjrehensively,  for  showing  a  command  uf  lan- 
guage, a  delicacy  of  taste,  a  comprehensiveness 
of  thought,  and  a  power  of  combination. 

— Arnold,  1795-1842. 

(1749.)  A  girl  may  be  shown  how  to  darn  and 
how  to  patch,  how  to  bake  and  how  to  brew,  how 
to  scrub  and  how  to  rub,  how  to  buy  pennyworths 
with  ])ennies,  and  yet  be  sent  out  to  the  rich  man  a 
defeciive  servant,  and  to  the  poor  man  an  unthrifty 
uncomfortable  wife.  On  the  otlier  hand,  she  may 
have  received  formal  instruction  in  no  one  of  these 
things,  and  yet  be  able  to  overcome  every  difficulty 
as  it  arises,  by  help  of  the  spirit  that  has  been  put 
into  her,  and  will  not  only  soon  do  well,  but  will 
perpetually  advance  towards  perfection  in  whatever 
ministry  may  be  demanded  of  her  by  the  circum- 
stances of  her  future  life.  If  she  has  been  trained 
to  live  by  How  and  Why, — always  pouring  down 
through  these  conductors  tlie  whole  energy  of  the 
mind  upon  the  matter  actually  in  hand,  — she  will 
surely  make  a  wise  wife  or  a  clever  servant. 

— Household  Words. 

8.  Its  object. 

(1750.)  I  call  a  complete  and  generous  education 
that  wliich  fits  a  man  to  perform  justly,  skilfully, 
and  magnanimously  all  the  offices,  both  private  and 

public,   of   peace    and   war But   here   the 

main  skill  and  groundwork  will  be,  to  temper  them 
[the  learners]  with  lectures  and  explanations  upon 
every  opportunity,  as  may  lead  and  draw  them  in 
willing  obedience,  inflamed  with  a  study  of  learning, 


and  the  admiration  of  virtue  ;  stirred  up  with  high 
hopes  of  living  to  be  brave  men  and  wc  rlhy 
patrijts,  dear  to  God,  and  famous  to  all  ages. 

— Ajiltoii,  1 608- 1 674. 

(T751.)  I  hesitate  not  to  assert,  as  a  Christian, 
that  religion  is  the  fust  rational  object  of  education. 
Whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  my  children  in  this 
transitory  world,  about  which,  I  hope,  I  am  as  solici- 
tous as  I  ought  to  be,  I  would,  if  possible,  secure  a 
happy  meeting  with  them  in  a  future  and  everlast- 
ing life.  I  can  well  enough  bear  their  reproaches 
for  not  enabling  them  10  attain  to  worldly  honouis 
and  distinctions ;  but  to  have  been  in  any  measure 
accessory,  by  my  neglect,  to  their  final  perdition, 
would  be  the  occasion  of  such  reproach  and  blame, 
as  would  be  absolutely  insupportable. 

— Priestley. 

(1752.)  The  object  of  a  liberal  education  is  to 
develop  the  wliole  mental  system  of  man  ;— to  make 
his  speculative  inferences  coincide  with  his  practical 
convictions  ; — to  enable  him  to  render  a  reason  for 
the  belief  that  is  in  him,  and  not  to  leave  him  in  the 
condition  of  Solomon's  sluggard,  who  is  wiser  in  his 
own  conceit  than  seven  men  that  caw  render  a  reason. 

—  ly/iewell. 
3.  Ite  necessity. 

(1753.)  Like  as  a  field,  although  it  be  fertile,  can 
bring  forth  no  fruit  except  it  be  first  tilled  and  seed 
cast  in  ;  so  the  mind,  although  it  be  apt  of  itself, 
cannot  without  learning  bring  forth  any  goodness. 
— Cawdray,  1 598-1664. 

{1754.)  The  fruits  of  the  earth  do  not  more  obvi- 
ously require  labour  and  cultivation  to  prepare  them 
for  our  use  and  subsistence,  than  our  faculties  demand 
instruction  and  regulation  in  order  to  qualify  us  to 
become  upright  and  valuable  members  of  society, 
useful  to  others,  or  happy  in  ourselves. 

— Barrow,  1631-1713. 

(1755.)  I  consider  a  human  soul  without  educa- 
tion like  marble  in  the  quarry,  which  shows  none  of 
its  inherent  beauties  until  the  skill  of  the  polisher 
fetches  out  the  colours,  makes  the  surface  sliine, 
and  discovers  every  ornamental  cloud,  spot,  and 
vein  that  runs  through  the  body  of  it.  Education, 
after  the  same  manner,  when  it  works  upon  a  noble 
mind  draws  out  to  view  every  latent  virtue  and  per- 
fection, which  without  such  helps  aie  never  able  to 
make  their  ajipearance. 

If  my  reader  will  give  me  leave  to  change  the 
allusion  so  soon  upon  him,  I  shall  make  use  of  the 
same  instance  to  illustrate  the  force  of  education 
which  Aristotle  has  brought  to  explain  his  doctrine 
of  substantial  forms,  when  he  tells  us  that  a  statue 
lies  hid  in  a  block  of  marble,  and  that  the  art  of 
the  statuary  only  clears  away  the  superfluous  matter 
and  removes  the  rubbish.  The  figure  is  in  the  stone, 
the  sculptor  only  finds  it.  What  scul|Uure  is  to  a 
block  of  marble,  education  is  to  a  human  soul.  The 
philosopher,  the  saint,  or  the  hero,  the  wise,  the 
good,  or  the  great  man,  very  often  lie  hid  and  con- 
cealed in  a  plebeian,  which  a  proper  education 
might  have  disinterred,  and  have  brought  to  light. 
— Addison,  1672-17 19. 

(1756.)  Education,  in  the  most  extensive  sense  of 
the  word,  may  comprehend  every  preparation  that 
is  made  in  our  youth  for  the  sequel  of  our  lives  ; 
and  in  this  sense  1  use  it.     Some  such  preparatioa 


EDUCATION. 


(    308    ) 


EDUCATION. 


is  necessary  for  all  conditions,  because  without  it 
they  must  be  miserable,  and  probably  will  be  vicious, 
when  they  grow  up,  either  from  the  want  of  the 
means  of  subsistence,  or  from  want  of  rational  and 
inuffensive  occupation.  In  civilised  life,  everything 
is  effected  by  art  and  skdl.  Whence,  a  person  who 
is  provided  with  neither  (and  neitliercan  be  acquired 
without  exercise  and  instruction)  will  be  useless ; 
and  he  that  is  useless,  will  generally  be  at  the  same 
time  mischievous  to  the  community.  So  that  to 
send  an  uneducated  child  into  the  world  is  injurious 
to  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  it  is  little  better  than  to 
turn  out  a  mad  dog  or  a  wild  beast  into  the  streets. 
—Foley,  1 743- 1 805. 

(1757.)  Despotism  is  the  only  form  of  government 
which  may  with  safety  to  itself  neglect  the  education 
of  its  infant  poor.  — Horsley,   1733-1S06, 

(1758.)  I  am  persuaded  that  the  extreme  profli- 
gacy, improvidence,  and  misery  which  are  so  preva- 
lent among  the  labouring  classes  in  many  countries 
are  chiefly  to  be  ascribed  to  the  want  of  education. 
]n  proof  of  this,  we  need  only  cast  our  eyes  on  the 
condition  of  the  Irish  compared  with  that  of  the 
peasantry  of  Scotland.  — Robert  Hall,  1 764-1831. 

(1759.)  Culture's  hand 

Has  scatter'd  verdure  o'er  the  land  ; 
And  smiles  and  fragrance  rule  serene, 
Where  barren  wild  usurp'd  the  scene. 
And  such  is  man — a  soil  which  breed» 
Or  sweetest  flowers  or  vilest  weeds  ; 
Flowers  lovely  as  the  morning  light, 
^\'eeds  deadly  as  an  aconite  ; 
Just  as  his  heart  is  trained  to  bear 
The  poisonous  weed,  or  flow'ret  fair. 

— Bowring. 
4.  Should  begin  early. 

(1760.)  Education  maybe  compared  to  the  graft- 
ing of  a  tree.  Every  gardener  knows  that  the 
yoitn/er  the  wilding-stock  is  that  is  to  be  grafted, 
the  easier  and  the  more  effectual  is  the  operation, 
because,  then,  one  scion  put  on  just  above  the  root, 
will  become  the  main  stem  of  the  tree,  and  all  the 
branches  it  puts  forth  will  be  of  the  right  sort. 
When,  on  the  other  hand,  a  tree  is  to  be  grafted  at 
a  considerable  age  (which  may  be  very  successfully 
done),  you  have  to  put  on  twenty  or  thirty  grafts  on 
the  several  branches  ;  and  afterwards  you  will  have 
to  be  watching  from  time  to  time  for  the  wilding- 
shoots  which  the  stock  will  be  putting  forth,  and 
pruning  them  off.  And  even  so  one  whose  character 
is  to  be  reformed  at  mature  age  will  find  it  necessary 
not  merely  to  implant  a  right  principle  once  for  all, 
but  also  to  bestow  a  distinct  attention  on  the  cor- 
rection of  this,  that,  and  the  other  bad  habit. 

—  Whately,  17S7-1863. 

(1761.)  Youth  is  that  period  in  which,  if  you 
■would  educate  men,  they  must  be  educated.  If 
they  are  not  educated  then,  they  will  not  be  edu- 
cated, and  no  repentance  can  change  the  fact. 
When  the  plates  are  prepared  for  steel  engravings, 
the  steel  is  made  soft  ;  and  then  the  graver  works 
out  the  picture  ;  and  then  the  plate  is  put  into  a 
furnace  and  brought  to  great  hardness,  so  that  im- 
pressions can  be  taken  off  by  the  hundreds  without 
wearing  it.  Now  the  time  to  engrave  men  is  youth, 
when  the  plate  is  soft  and  ductile.  Manhood  is 
hard,  and  cannot  be  cut  easily,  any  more  than  tem- 
pered steeL  — Backer. 


6.  Cannot  be  Imposed  on  any  one. 

(1762.)  Every  man  who  rises  above  the  common 
level  receives  two  educations  :  the  first  from  his 
instructors  ,  the  second,  the  most  personal  and  im- 
portant, from  himself.  — Gibbon,  1737-1794. 

(1763.)  Costly  apparatus  and  splendid  cabinets 
have  no  magical  power  to  make  scholars.  As  a 
man  is  in  all  circumstances,  under  God,  the  master 
of  his  own  fortune,  so  he  is  the  maker  of  his  own 
mind.  The  Creator  has  so  constituted  the  human 
intellect  that  it  can  only  grow  by  its  own  action : 
it  will  certainly  and  necessarily  grow.  Every  man 
must  therefore  educate  himself.  His  books  and 
teachers  are  but  helps  ;  the  work  is  his.  A  man  is 
not  educated  until  he  has  the  ability  to  summon,  in 
an  emergency,  his  mental  powers  in  vigorous  exer- 
cise to  effect  its  proposed  object.  It  is  not  the  man 
who  has  seen  the  most,  or  read  the  most,  who  can 
do  this;  such  a  one  is  in  danger  of  being  borne  down, 
like  a  beast  of  burden,  by  an  overloaded  mass  of 
other  men's  thoughts.  Nor  is  it  the  man  who  can 
boast  merely  of  native  vigour  and  capacity.  The 
greatest  of  all  warriors  who  went  to  the  siege  of  Troy 
had  not  the  pre-eminence  because  nature  had  given 
him  strength  and  he  carried  the  largest  bow  ;  but 
because  self-discipline  had  taught  him  how  to  bend 
it.  — Daniel  i^Febsler. 

6.  Some  minds  are  iacapable  of  it. 

(1764.)  Professions  of  universal  education  are  as 
ludicrous  as  professions  of  universal  cure  ;  the  obli- 
quity and  inaptitude  of  some  minds  being  absolutely 
incurable.  — IV,  B.  Clulow, 

7.  Mistakes  In  education. 

(1765.)  The  geneial  mistake  among  us  in  the 
educating  our  children  is,  that  in  our  daughters  we 
take  care  of  their  persons  and  neglect  their  minds  ; 
in  our  sons  we  are  so  intent  upon  adorning  their 
minds  that  we  wholly  neglect  their  bodies.  It  is  from 
this  that  you  shall  see  a  young  lady  celebrated  and 
admired  in  all  the  assemblies  about  town,  when  her 
elder  brother  is  afraid  to  come  into  a  room.  From 
this  ill-management  it  arises  that  we  frequently 
observe  a  man's  life  is  half  spent  before  he  is  taken 
notice  of ;  and  a  woman  in  the  prime  of  her  years 
is  out  of  fashion  and  neglected. 

— Hughes,  1677-1 72a 

(1766.)  With  respect  to  the  education  of  boys, 
I  think  they  are  generally  made  to  draw  in  Latin 
and  Greek  trammels  too  soon.  It  is  pleasing,  no 
doubt,  to  a  parent,  to  see  his  child  already  in  some 
sort  a  proficient  in  those  languages  at  an  age  when 
most  others  are  entirely  ignorant  of  them  ;  but 
hence  it  often  happens  that  a  boy  who  could  con- 
strue a  fable  of  /Esop  at  six  or  seven  years  of  age, 
having  exhausted  his  little  stock  of  attention  and 
diligence  in  making  that  notable  acquisition,  grows 
weary  of  his  task,  conceives  a  dislike  for  study,  and 
perhaps  makes  but  a  very  indifferent  progress  after- 
wards. —  Cowper. 

(1767.)  It  is  an  ill-judged  thrift,  in  some  rich 
parents,  to  bring  up  their  sons  to  mean  employments, 
for  the  sake  of  saving  the  charge  of  a  more  expensive 
education  ;  for  these  sons,  when  they  become 
masters  of  their  liberty  and  fortune,  will  hardly  con- 
tinue in  occupations  by  which  they  think  themselves 
degraded ;  and  are  seldom  qualified  for  anything 
better.  — Foley,  1743-  1805. 


EDUCATION. 


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EDUCATION. 


S.  Uniformity  Is  Impossible, 

(1768.)  Men  hope,  by  systems  and  rules,  to  shape 
different  minds  according  to  one  fixed  model  ;  but 
nature  and  the  accidents  of  life  intervene  to  thwart 
the  design,  and  thus  keep  up  the  infinite  diversity 
of  intellect  and  attainments,  corresponding  to  the 
equally  varied  tempers  and  fortunes  of  mankind. 
—  W.  B.  Cliilow. 

(1769.)  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  education 
resembles  the  grafting  of  a  tree  in  this  point  also, 
that  there  must  be  some  affinity  between  the  stock 
anil  the  graft,  though  a  very  important  practical 
difference  may  exist  ;  for  example,  between  a  worth- 
less crab  and  a  fine  apple.  Even  so,  the  new 
nature,  as  it  may  be  called,  superinduced  by  educa- 
tion, must  always  retain  some  relation  to  the  original 
one,  though  differing  in  most  important  points. 
You  cannot,  by  any  kind  of  artificial  training,  make 
any  thing  ol  any  one,  and  obliterate  all  trace  of  the 
natural  character.  Those  who  hold  that  this  is 
possible,  and  attempt  to  effect  it,  resemble  Virgil, 
who  (whether  in  ignorance  or,  as  some  think,  by 
way  of  "  poetical  licence  ")  talks  of  grafting  an  oak 
on  an  elm  :  "glandemque  sues  fregere  sub  ulmis." 
—  Whatdy,  1787-1863. 

9.  Public  schools. 

(1770.)  A  boy  v.ill  learn  more  true  wisdom  in  a 
pubHc  school  in  a  year,  than  by  a  private  education 
in  five.  It  is  not  from  masters,  but  from  their 
equals,  youth  learn  a  knowledge  of  the  world  :  the 
little  tricks  they  play  each  other,  the  punishment 
that  frequently  attends  the  commission,  is  a  just 
picture  of  tlie  great  world  ;  and  all  the  ways  of  men 
are  practised  in  a  public  school  in  miniature.  It  is 
true,  a  child  is  early  made  acquainted  with  some 
vices  in  a  school ;  but  it  is  better  to  know  these 
when  a  boy,  than  be  first  taught  them  when  a  man  ; 
for  their  novelty  then  may  have  irresistible  charms. 
— Goldsmith,  172S-1774. 

10.  Its  Results. 

(1771.)  Many  are  bom  into  the  world,  not  only 
uith  the  general  taint  of  original  sin,  but  also  with 
Buch  particular  propensities,  such  predominant  inclin- 
a'  lis  to  vice,  that  they  are  as  fruitful  a  soil  for  the 
dcul  to  plant  in,  and  afford  as  much  fuel  for  sin  to 
flame  out  upon,  as  it  is  possible  for  the  utmost  cor- 
ruption of  human  nature  to  supply  them  with.  But 
God,  who  in  His  most  wise  providence  restrains 
many  whom  He  never  renews,  has  many  ways  to 
prevent  the  outrageous  eruption  of  this  vicious  prin- 
ciple. And  one  great  one  is  this  of  a  pious  education; 
which  may  lay  such  strong  fetters,  such  power- 
ful restrictions  upon  the  heart,  that  it  shall  not  be 
able  to  lash  out  into  those  excesses  and  enormities, 
which  the  more  licentious  and  debauched  part  of  the 
world  wallow  in  :  yet  still,  though  by  this  the  un- 
clean bird  be  caged  up,  the  uncleanness  of  its  nature 
is  not  hereby  changed.  For  as  no  raking  or  harrow- 
ing can  alter  the  nature  of  a  barren  ground,  though 
it  may  smooth  and  level  it  to  the  eye  ;  so  neither  can 
those  early  disciplines  of  parents  and  tutors  extirpate 
the  innate  appetites  of  the  soul,  and  turn  a  bad  heart 
into  a  good  ;  they  may  indeed  draw  some  plausible 
lines  of  civility  upon  the  outward  carriage  and  con- 
versation, but  to  conquer  a  natural  inclination  is  the 
work  of  a  higher  power.  Nevertheless  it  must  be 
always  looked  upon  as  a  high  mercy,  where  God  is 
pleased  to  do  so  much  for  a  man  as  this  comes  to  ; 
and  whosoever  he  is,  who  in  his  minority  has  been 


kept  from  those  extravagances  which  his  dr;-i'aved 
nature  would  otherwise  have  carried  him  out  to,  and 
so  has  grown  up  under  the  eye  of  a  careful  and 
severe  tuition,  has  cause  with  bended  knees  to 
acknowledge  the  mercy  of  being  born  of  religious 
parents,  and  bred  up  under  virtuous  and  discreet 
governors  ;  and  to  bless  God,  without  any  danger 
of  Pharisaical  arrogance,  that  upon  this  account  "  h« 
is  not  as  many  other  men  are."  But  still  (as  I  have 
noted),  all  this  is  but  "the  sweeping  and  garnishing 
of  the  house  ;  "  and  though  education  may  some- 
times do  that,  yet  it  is  grace  only  that  can  keep  out 
"the  unclean  spirit."  And  consequently  such  a 
person,  notwithstanding  all  this  outward  flourish  of 
behaviour,  must  yet  know  that  his  heart  may  be  all 
this  while  as  really  unrenewed,  and  upon  that  score 
as  impure,  as  the  heart  of  those,  who,  not  being 
hampered  with  such  early  preventions,  break  forth 
into  the  most  open  and  flagitious  practices. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

(1772.)  I  think  we  may  assert  that  in  a  hundred 
men  there  are  more  than  ninety  who  are  v/hat  they 
are,  good  or  bad,  useful  or  pernicious  to  society, 
from  the  instruction  they  have  received.  It  is 
on  education  that  depend  the  great  differences 
observable  among  them.  The  least  and  most  im- 
perceptible impressions  received  in  our  infancy  liave 
consequences  very  inqjortant,  and  of  a  long  duration. 
It  is  with  these  first  impressions  as  with  a  river, 
whose  waters  we  can  easily  turn,  by  different  canals, 
in  quite  opposite  courses  ;  so  that  from  the  insensible 
direction  the  stream  receives  at  its  source,  it  takes 
different  directions,  and  at  last  arrives  at  places  far 
distant  from  each  other  ;  and  with  the  same  facility 
we  may,  I  think,  turn  the  minds  of  ch'ldren  to  what 
direction  we  please.  — Locke,  1632- 1704. 

(1773.)  It  is  important  to  distinguish  between 
actual  failure,  and  failure  as  to  the  production  of 
visible  effect.  It  appears  more  has  been  effected 
by  education  than  is  really  apparent.  The  water 
has  been  frozen,  and  to  bring  the  ice  even  to  the 
state  of  cold  water,  a  considerable  quantity  of  caloric 
has  been  employed.  They  have  ex]  ended  much 
fuel,  taken  much  pains,  enough  to  make  the  water 
boil  had  it  been  cold  water  when  they  began  ;  but 
though,  when  they  put  their  hand  in  the  vessel, 
they  now  feel  the  water  cold,  even  that  is  an  advance 
upon  the  ice.  So  when  they  saw  the  state  of  crime, 
however  thev  might  lament  it,  they  consider  what 
the  extent  of  evil  would  have  been  but  for  so  much 
religious  education.  In  calculating  the  good  done, 
the  evil  prevented  must  be  considered,  and  if  this 
is  not  so  apparent,  it  is  not  less  real.        — Salter, 

(1774.)  Hang  me  all  the  thieves  in  Gibbet  Street 
to-morrow,  and  the  place  will  be  crammed  with 
fresh  tenants  in  a  week  ;  but  catch  me  up  the  young 
thieves  from  the  guiter  and  the  doorsteps  ;  take 
Jonathan  Wild  from  the  breast;  send  Mrs.  Shep- 
pard  to  Bridewell,  but  take  hale  young  Jack  out  of 
her  arms  ;  teach  and  wash  me  this  young  unkempt 
vicious  colt,  and  he  will  run  for  the  Virtue  Stakes 
yet ;  take  the  young  child,  the  little  lamb,  before 
the  great  Jack  Sheppard  ruddles  him  and  folds  him 
for  his  own  black  flock  in  Hades  ;  give  him  some 
soap,  instead  of  whipping  him  for  stealing  a  cake  of 
hrown  Windsor  ;  teach  him  the  Gospel,  instead  of 
s(!nding  him  to  the  treadmill  for  haunting  cliapels 
and  purloining  prayer-books  out  of  pews  ;  put  him 
in  the  waj  ei  tilling  shop-tills,  instead  of  tiansporfc 


ELECTION. 


(    310    ) 


ELECTION. 


Ing  liim  when  he  crawls  on  his  hands  and  knees  to 
empty  them  ;  let  him  know  that  he  has  a  body  fit 
and  made  for  something  better  than  to  be  kicked, 
bruised,  chained,  pinched  with  hunger,  clad  in  rags 
or  prison  gray,  or  mangled  with  jailer's  cat  ;  let 
him  know  that  he  has  a  soul  to  be  saved.  In  God's 
name,  take  care  of"  the  children,  somebody  ;  and 
there  will  soon  be  an  oldest  inhabitant  in  Gibbet 
Street,  and  never  a  new  one  to  succeed  him  1 

— Household  Words. 

(1775.)  When  you  show  me  a  man  who  has  been 
cultured,  you  ought  to  show  me  a  man  that  is  better 
built  to  meet  the  contingencies  of  life  than  any  that 
are  uncultured. 

During  the  war  we  sent  into  the  camp  both 
classes ;  and  we  expected  the  rude  swain,  who  had 
known  only  coarseness,  would  make  a  better  soltlier, 
and  resist  all  the  hardships  of  the  field  more  easily 
than  the  young  man  who  had  passed  through 
college,  or  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  midst 
of  wealth  and  refinement  ;  but  experience  did  not 
justify  that  expectation.  It  was  found,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  although  the  regiments  that  were  gath- 
ered Irom  the  country  were  physically  hardier  than 
those  that  came  from  the  cities,  they,  after  all,  could 
not  endure  the  service  as  well.  It  was  found  that 
those  who  came  from  the  cities,  and  had  more  mind, 
more  brain-power,  and  had  been  brought  up  in 
wealth  and  with  culture,  were  more  efficient  than 
the  opposite  class.  It  was  found  that  educated 
intelligence  was  a  better  preservative  than  mere 
muscular  strength,  and  that  those  who  had  been 
brought  up  in  dainty  conditions  of  life  adapted 
themselves  more  easily  to  the  hardships  of  the  camp 
than  those  who  came  from  the  poorer  ranks  of 
society.  It  was  found  that  men  who  had  mental 
resources  could  bear  up  under  wounds,  and  would 
rucover,  where  those  who  were  without  such  re- 
sources were  more  apt  to  sicken  and  die.  It  is  the 
result  of  education  to  make  men  more  enduring, 
not  simply  in  the  midst  of  favourable  circumstance, 
but  everywhere. 

It  is  said  that  when  the  French  nobility  were 
expelled  from  P'rance,  after  the  French  Revolution, 
'  they  bore  their  exile  and  wanderings  more  nobly, 
and  were  more  self-helpful,  than  the  common 
peasantry,  or  than  men  in  the  lower  ranks  of  life 
who  were  also  expelled.  And  when  the  Hungarian 
expulsion  brought  Kossuth  and  his  noble  band  to 
this  country,  no  equal  numl)er  of  men  ever  justified 
culture  more,  by  adapting  themselves  to  their  cir- 
cumstances, and  vvitliout  complaint  or  repining 
meeting  the  hardships  of  their  changed  methods  of 
livelihood.  A  true  education  makes  a  man  larger 
and  belter,  and  fits  him  for  revolutions.  If  one  has 
lived  in  refinement,  and  in  a  changed  condition 
goes  down  to  the  bottom,  and  comes  in  contact 
with  barrenness  and  coarseness,  that  culture  which 
he  has  acquired  sustains  him,  and  makes  him 
superior  to  his  condition.  — Beecker. 


affection,  and  intends  most  good  ;  and  in  this  (in- 
sists election.  In  good  time  He  declares  Hit 
affection,  and  makes  His  love  manifest  to  them  ; 
there  is  vocation.  Then  He  conforms  them  to 
His  own  image,  gives  them  a  place  in  court,  the 
honour  of  children,  the  earnest  of  His  Spirit,  in 
token  of  assurance  ;  there  is  justification.  Lastly, 
He  bids  them  enter  into  their  Father's  joy,  makes 
them  co-heirs  with  His  eldest  Son  in  the  possession 
of  bliss  ;  there  is  glorification.  God  hath  chosen 
us  before  the  world,  created  us  with  the  workl, 
called  us  from  the  world,  justified  us  in  the  world, 
and  He  will  save  us  in  the  world  to  come.  He 
that  chose  us  when  we  were  not,  and  called  us  when 
we  were  naught,  and  hath  justified  us  being  sinners, 
will  glorify  us  being  saints.  The  Husbandman  of 
heaven  chooseth  out  a  plot  of  ground  at  His  own 
pleasure  ;  there  is  election  :  He  sows  this  with  the 
immortal  seed,  by  His  word  ;  there  is  vocation  : 
He  waters  it  with  the  dew  of  Hermon,  the  graces  cf 
His  Spirit  ;  there  is  sanctification  :  when  it  is  ripe 
He  reaps  it  from  the  earth,  and  carries  it  into  the 
barn  of  heaven  ;  there  is  salvation. 

— Adams  f  1654. 

(1777.)  In  election  we  behold  God  the  Father  in 
choosing  ;  in  vocation,  God  the  Son  teaching  ;  ia 
justification,  God  the  Holy  Ghost  sealing;  in  salva- 
tion, the  whole  Deity  crowning.  God  chooseth  of 
His  love  ;  Christ  calleth  by  His  Word  ;  the  Spirit 
sealeth  by  His  grace  :  now  the  fruit  of  all  this,  of 
God's  love  choosing,  of  Christ's  Word  calling,  of  the 
Spirit's  grace  sanctifying,  is  our  eternal  glory  and 
blessedness  in  heaven.  In  election  God  bestows  on 
us  His  love  ;  in  calling  He  grants  the  blessing  of 
His  Word  ;  in  justifying  He  communicates  to  us  the 
sweetness  of  His  Spirit ;  in  glorifymg  He  doth 
wholly  give  us  Himself  We  see  far  with  our  body's 
eye,  sense  ;  further  with  the  mind's  eye,  reason  ; 
furthest  with  the  soul's  eye,  faith.  The  rational  eye 
doth  not  so  far  exceed  the  sensual,  as  the  spiritual 
exceeds  the  rational.  Calling  illuminates  the  mind 
with  knowledge  ;  sanctifying  seals  up  the  heart  with 
spiritual  comfort  ;  salvation  crowns  all,  even  the 
soul  with  immortal  bliss.  This  gradation  of  assur- 
ance is  sweetly  contracted  by  St.  I'aul  ;  "  Whom 
lie  did  predestinate,  them  He  also  called:  whom  He 
called,  them  He  alsojustified:  and  whom  He  justified, 
them  lie  also  glorified."  Wherein  the  fathers  have 
found  the  four  causes  of  our  salvation.  In  predes- 
tinating;, the  efficient  cause,  which  is  God's  love. 
In  calling,  the  material  cause,  which  is  Christ's 
death,  delivered  in  His  Word  that  doth  call  us.  In 
justifying  there  is  the  formal  cause,  a  lively  faith. 
In  gloril'ying  there  is  the  final  cause,  that  is,  ever- 
lasting life.  Paradise  had  four  rivers  that  watered 
the  earth  :  these  four  springs  come  from  the  Eden 
of  heaven  and  run  through  the  earth  ;  and  howso- 
ever neglected  by  many,  they  make  glad  the  city 
of  God.  So  Bernard  sweetly  :  Eternal  life  is 
granted  to  us  in  election,  promised  in  our  vocation, 
sealed  in  our  justification,  possessed  in  our  glorifica- 
p-  _^  tion.     Conclude,  then,  faithfully   to  thy  own   soul, 

I  believe,  therefore   I  am   justified  ;   I  am  justified, 
1.  Its  cause  and  method,  therefore  I  am  sanctified  ;  1  am  sanctified,  therefore 

(1776.)  Paul  considers  the  chain  of  our  salvation,  I  am  called  ;  1  am  called,  therefore  I  am  elected  ;  I 
depending  on  four  links — election,  vocation,  justifi-  am  elected,  therefore  I  shall  be  saved.  Oh  I  settled 
cation,  and  glorification  (Rom.  viii.  30);  the  first  comfort  of  joy,  which  ten  thousand  devils  shall  never 
whereof    hath    no  beginning,    the   last    no    ending,     make  void  1  — Adams,  1654. 

Here  is  the  kindness  of  a  Father,  that  singles  out 
Home  special  children,  to  whoc  He  bears  the  greatest  [       (177S.)    Inward   holiness   and    eternal  glory   are 


ELECTION. 


(    3"    ) 


ELECTION. 


the  crown  with  which  God  adorns  and  dignifies  His 
elect.  But  they  are  not  the  cause  of  election.  A 
king  is  not  made  a  king  by  the  royal  robes  he  wears, 
and  by  the  crown  that  encircles  his  brow  ;  but  he 
therefore  wears  his  robes,  and  puts  on  his  crown, 
because  he  is  a  king.  — Salter. 

2.  Its  design. 

(1779.)  What  was  God  driving  at  in  His  electing 
some  out  of  the  lump  of  mankind  ?  Was  it  only 
their  impunity  He  desired,  that  while  otliers  were 
left  to  swim  in  torment  and  misery,  they  should  only 
be  exempted  from  that  infelicity  ?  No,  sure  ;  the 
Apostle  will  tell  us  more.  "  He  hath  chosen  us  in 
Him  before  tb.e  foundation  of  the  world,  that  we 
should  be  holy."  Mark,  not  because  He  foresaw 
that  they  would  be  of  themselves  holy,  but  that  they 
should  be  holy  ;  this  was  that  God  resolved  He 
would  make  them  to  be.  As  if  some  curious  work- 
man, seeing  a  forest  growing  upon  his  own  ground 
of  trees  (all  alike,  not  one  better  than  another), 
should  mark  some  above  all  the  rest,  and  set  them 
apart  in  his  thoughts,  as  resolving  to  make  some 
rare  pieces  of  wo:kmansliip  of  them.  Thus  God 
chose  some  out  of  the  lump  of  mankind,  whom  He 
set  apart  for  this  purpose,  to  carve  His  own  image 
upon  them,  which  consists  in  righteousness  and  true 
holiness  ;  a  piece  of  such  rare  workmanship  which, 
when  God  hath  finished,  and  shall  show  it  to  men 
and  angels,  will  appear  to  exceed  the  fabric  of  heaven 
and  earth  itself.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

3.  Furnishes  no  argument  for  continuance  In  sin. 

(17S0.)  A  temptaiion  which  Satan  suggests  into 
the  minds  of  carnal  men,  God's  decree  of  predesti- 
nation is  unchangealjle  as  Himself;  and,  therefore, 
if  thou  art  elected  of  God,  thou  mayest  go  on  in  thy 
sins,  yet  surely  thou  shalt  be  saved,  and  He  will 
give  thee  repentance,  though  it  be  deferred  to  the 
last  gasp.  But  if  thou  be  rejected  of  God  in  His 
eternal  counsel,  then  take  what  pains  thou  wilt,  all 
is  in  vain,  for  those  whom  He  has  reprobated  shall 
be  condemned.  And  therefore  mucli  better  were  it 
to  take  thy  pleasure  whilst  thou  art  in  this  life,  for 
the  punishments  of  the  life  to  come  will  be  enough, 
though  thou  addest  no  torments  of  this  life  unto  them. 

But  if  we  consider  of  this  temptation  aright,  and 
sound  it  to  the  bottom,  we  shall  find,  /irsi,  that  it 
is  most  foolish  and  ridiculous;  secondly,  that  it  is 
most  false  and  impious. 

That  it  is  most  foolish  will  easily  appear  if  we  use 
the  like  manner  of  reason  in  worldly  matters.  For 
it  is  all  one  as  if  a  man  should  thus  say  :  Thy  time 
is  appointed,  and  the  Lord  in  His  coimsel  has  set 
down  how  long  thou  shalt  live.  If,  therefore,  it  be 
ordained  that  thy  time  shall  be  short,  use  what 
means  thou  wilt  of  physic  and  good  diet,  yet  thou 
shalt  not  prolong  it  one  day.  But  if  God  has  decreed 
that  thou  shalt  live  till  old  age,  take  what  courses 
thou  wilt,  run  into  all  desperate  dangers,  use  surfeit- 
ing and  all  disorder  of  diet,  nay,  eat  no  meat  at  all, 
and  yet  thou  shalt  live  till  thou  art  an  old  man. 

Or,  as  if  he  should  say  :  God  has  decreed  already 
whether  thou  shall  be  rich  or  poor.  And  if  He  has 
appointed  thee  to  be  poor,  take  never  so  much 
pains,  follow  thy  calling  as  diligently  as  thou  wilt, 
abstain  from  all  wastefulness  and  prodigality,  yet 
thou  shalt  never  get  any  wealth.  But  if  thou  art 
pre-ordained  to  be  rich,  sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and 
scatter  it  abroad  in  the  streets,  spend  thy  time  in 
gaming,  drinkiiig,  and  whoring,  never  troubling  thy 


head  with  care,  nor  thy  hands  with  work,  yet  thou 
shalt  be  a  wealthy  man. 

Now,  who  would  not  laugh  at  such  absurd  manner 
of  reasoning,  if  any  should  use  it  ?  Because  every 
man  knows  that  as  God  has  decreed  the  time  of  oui 
life,  so  He  has  decreed  also  that  we  should  use  the 
means  whereby  our  lives  may  be  preserved  so  long 
as  He  has  ordained  that  we  should  live,  namely, 
avoiding  of  dangers,  good  diet,  and  physic  ;  and  as 
He  has  decreed  that  a  man  should  be  rich,  so  lie 
has  decreed  also  that  he  should  use  all  good  means 
of  attaining  unto  riches,  namely,  providence  and 
pains  in  getting,  and  care  and  frugality  in  keeping 
that  he  has  gotten ;  and  whosoever  use  not  the 
means  do  make  it  manifest  that  they  were  not 
ordained  unto  the  end.  Although,  indeed,  because 
the  Lord  would  show  His  absolute  and  almighty 
power.  He  does  not  always  tie  Himself  unto  means, 
but  sometimes  crosses  and  makes  them  ineflectual 
to  their  ends,  and  sometimes  He  effects  what  He 
v/ill  without  or  contrary  to  means  ;  and  hence  it  is 
that  some  quickly  die  who  use  all  means  to  preserve 
health,  and  some  become  poor  who  use  all  means  of 
obtaining  riches,  whereas  others,  being  deprived  of 
means,  attain  unto  long  life  and  riches  by  the  imme- 
diate blessing  of  God.  But  ordinarily  the  means  and 
end  go  together,  and  therefore  it  is  fond  presumption 
to  hope  without  the  use  of  means  to  attain  unto  the 
end.  And  thus  it  is  also  in  spiritual  matters  apper- 
taining to  everlasting  life.  They  whom  God  has 
elected  He  has  also  ordained,  that  they  should  attain 
unto  and  use  all  good  means  tending  thereunto — 
namely,  faith,  repentance,  sanctification,  and  new« 
ness  of  life. 

But  as  this  temptation  is  foolish,  so  also  it  is  false  ; 
for  whereas  He  says  that  though  we  live  in  our  sins 
without  repentance,  yet  we  may  be  elected  and 
therefore  saved,  and  though  we  take  never  so  great 
pams  in  God's  service,  and  most  carefully  endeavour 
to  spend  our  lives  in  holiness  and  righteousness,  yet 
we  may  be  reprobates,  and  therefore  shall  be  con- 
demned. This  is  utterly  untrue.  For  whomsoever 
the  Lord  has  ordained  to  everlasting  life,  those  also 
He  has  ordained  to  use  the  means  whereby  they 
may  be  saved  :  and  consequently  whosoever  use 
these  means  may  be  assured  of  their  salvation. 
Whosoever  neglect  and  despise  these  means  they 
manifestly  declare  that  they  are  not  in  the  number 
of  the  elect,  so  long  as  they  continue  in  their  neglect 
and  contempt.  For  the  end  and  the  means  are 
inseparably  joined  in  CJod's  decree :  so  that  they 
who  use  the  one  shall  obtain  the  other.  Those  who 
neglect  and  contemn  th<'  means  shall  never  attain 
unto  the  end.  — Lownavie,  1644. 

(17S1.)  Predestination  is  pleaded.  Ifl  be  written 
to  life,  I  may  do  this  ;  for  many  are  saved  that  have 
done  worse.  If  not,  were  my  life  never  so  strict, 
hell  appointed  is  not  to  be  avoided.  These  men 
look  to  the  top  of  the  ladder,  but  not  to  the  foot. 
God  ordains  not  men  to  jump  to  heaven,  but  to 
climb  thither  by  prescribed  degrees.  He  that  de- 
creed the  end,  decreed  also  the  means  that  conduce 
to  it.  If  thou  take  liberty  to  sin,  this  is  none  of 
the  way.  Peter  describes  the  rounds  of  this  ladder: 
"  Faith,  virtue,  knowledge,  temperance,  patience, 
godliness,  charity,"  Thou  runnest  a  contrary  course 
in  the  wild  paths  of  unbelief,  profaneness,  ignorance, 
riot,  impatience,  impiety,  malice  ;  this  is  none  of  the 
way.  These  are  the  rounds  01  a  ladder  that  goes 
downward  to  hell.    God's  predestination  helps  nianj 


ELECTION. 


(     312    ) 


ELECTION. 


to  stand,  pusheth  none  down.  Look  thou  to  the 
way,  let  God  alone  with  the  end.  Believe,  repent, 
amend,  and  thou  hast  God's  promise  to  be  saved. 

— Adams,  1654. 

4.  No  reason  for  neglecting  God's  offers  of 
mercy. 

(1782.)  We  have  no  ground  at  first  to  trouble 
ourselves  about  God's  election.  "  Secret  things 
belong  to  God  ;"  God's  revealed  will  is,  "that  all 
that  believe  in  Christ  shall  not  perish."  It  is  my 
duty,  therefore,  knowing  this,  to  believe,  by  doing 
whereof  I  put  that  question.  Whether  God  be  mine 
or  no  ?  out  of  all  question  ;  for  all  that  believe  in 
Christ  are  Christ's,  and  all  that  are  Christ's  are 
(jod's.  It  is  not  my  duty  to  look  to  God's  secret 
counsel,  but  to  His  open  offer,  invitation  and  com- 
mand, and  thereupon  to  adventure  my  soul.  And 
this  adventure  of  faith  will  bring  a  rich  return  of 
faith  unto  us.  In  war  men  will  venture  their  lives, 
because  they  think  some  will  escape,  and  why  not 
they  ?  In  traffic  beyond  the  seas  many  adventure  a 
great  estate,  because  some  grow  rich  by  a  good 
return,  though  many  miscarry.  The  husbandman 
adventures  his  seed,  though  sometimes  the  year 
proves  so  bad  that  he  never  sees  it  more.  And 
shall  not  we  make  a  spiritual  adventure  in  casting 
ourselves  upon  God,  when  we  have  so  good  a 
warrant  as  His  command,  and  so  good  an  encour- 
agement as  His  promise,  that  He  will  not  fail  those 
that  rely  on  Him  ?  — iiibbes,  1577-1635. 

(1783.)  Suppose  a  rope  cast  down  into  the  sea 
for  the  relief  of  shipwrecked  men  ready  to  perish, 
and  that  the  people  in  the  ship  or  on  the  shore 
should  cry  out  unto  them  to  lay  hold  on  the  rope, 
that  they  may  be  saved  ;  were  it  not  unseasonable 
and  foolish  cuiiosity  for  any  of  those  poor  distressed 
creatures,  now  at  the  point  <if  death,  to  dispute 
whether  did  the  man  that  cast  the  rope  intend  to 
save  me  or  not,  and  so,  minding  that  which  helpeth 
not,  neglect  the  means  of  safety  offered  ? — or  as  a 
prince  proclaiming  a  free  market  of  gold,  rich  gar- 
ments, precious  jewels,  and  the  like  to  a  number  of 
poor  men  upon  a  purpose  to  'enrich  some  few  of 
them,  whom  of  his  mere  grace  he  purposeth  to 
make  honourable  courtiers  and  great  officers  of 
state :  were  it  fitting  that  all  these  men  should 
stand  to  dispute  the  king's  favour,  but  rather  that 
they  should  repair  to  the  market,  and  by  that  means 
improve  his  favour  so  graciously  tendered  unto  them  ? 
Thus  it  is  that  Christ  holdeth  forth,  as  it  were,  a 
rope  of  mercy  to  lost  sinners,  and  setteth  out  an 
open  market  of  heavenly  treasure.  It  is  our  parts, 
then,  without  any  further  dispute,  to  look  upon  it 
as  a  princ'ple  afterwards  to  be  made  good,  that 
Christ  hath  gracious  thuughts  towards  us,  but  for 
the  present  to  lay  hold  on  the  rope,  ply  the  market, 
and  husband  well  the  grace  that  is  offered.  And  as 
the  condemned  man  believe! h  first  the  king's  favour 
to  all  humble  supiiliants  before  he  believe  it  to  him- 
self, so  the  order  is,  being  humbled  for  sin,  to  adhere 
to  the  goodness  of  the  promise;  not  to  look  to  God's 
intention  in  a  personal  way,  but  to  His  complacency 
and  tenderness  of  heart  to  all  repentant  sinners. 
This  was  St.  Paul's  method,  embracing  by  all 
means  that  good  and  faithful  saying,  "Jesus  Christ 
car-.e  to  save  sinners,"  before  he  ranked  himself  in 
the  front  of  those  sinners.       — Rutlierjord,  1661. 

(1784.)  Your  proper  business  is,  instead  of  prying 
Into  the  secrets  of  God,  to  attend  to  H  is  discoveries; 


instead  of  stumbling  at  His  unknown  purposes,  to 
listen  to  His  known  and  gracious  invitation.  I 
bring  you  to  one  test  of  your  sincerity,  in  deriving 
from  the  secret  purposes  of  God  an  excuse  for  treat- 
ing these  invitations  with  indifference  or  rejection, 
and  saying,  whether  lightly  or  indignantly,  "  If  I 
am  of  the  chosen,  good  and  well  ;  and  if  I  am  to 
be  damned,  I  cannot  help  it,"  The  test  is  a  fair  and 
simple  one. 

If  you  have  any  belief  in  a  superintending  Provi- 
dence, you  must  be  convinced  that  there  are  secret 
purposes  of  God  in  regard  to  temporal  things,  as 
well  as  in  regard  to  spiritual.  You  shall  have  full 
credit  for  such  sinc>.rity  whenever  I  see  you  apply- 
ing; your  principle  alike  on  both  sides  ; — when,  in 
time  of  sickness,  I  see  you  refusing  to  have  recourse 
to  any  means  of  cure  till  you  can  ascertain  the 
secret  purpose  of  God  whether  you  are  to  recover  or 
die; — when,  in  agriculture  I  hear  you  say,  "Not  a 
ploughshare  shall  break  up  a  ridge  of  my  fields,  not 
a  handful  of  seed  will  I  throw  away,  nor  shall  a 
harrow  be  allowed  to  pass  over  it,  till  I  know  what 
is  the  intention  of  Providence  as  to  the  harvest — 
whether  it  be  the  purpose  of  God  to  send  a  favour- 
able season  and  allow  me  a  fair  return  for  my  toil 
and  expense,  or  to  visit  me  with  a  famine  and  a 
failure  of  my  hopes  ;^when,  in  case  of  fire  in  your 
dwelling,  you  use  no  means  of  escape,  make  no 
effort  either  to  quench  the  flames  or  to  flee  from 
them,  but  sit  still,  or  lie  still,  where  you  chance  to 
be,  till  you  know  whether  it  be  the  decree  of  heaven 
that  the  fire  should  reach  you,  or,  reaching,  injure 
you ; — when,  in  one  word,  I  see  you  give  up 
food  itself,  refuse  all  means  of  sustenance,  till  you 
can  discover  how  long  the  God  of  your  life  has 
purposed  that  you  should  live. 

You  are  a  passenger,  let  me  suppose,  on  board  a 
ship  at  sea.  The  storm  rises  and  rages.  The  ves- 
sel strikes  on  a  rocky  coast.  The  waves  break  over 
her,  and  she  is  in  danger  every  moment  of  going  to 
]:>ieces.  Your  own  life  and  the  lives  of  all  on 
board  are  in  jeopardy.  In  the  instinct  of  dread,  you 
shriek  out  for  help.  The  humane  spectators  on  the 
beach  respond  to  the  cry,  and  iiasten  to  the  rescue. 
They  launch  and  man  the  life-boat.  And,  just  as 
they  are  pushing  off  to  dash  through  the  foaming 
breakers,  I  coolly  come  up  to  them  and  say,  "  What 
folly  is  all  this?  why  this  useless  ado?  how  vain 
this  exposure  of  yourselves  to  peril  !  If  these  men 
are  destined  to  survive.  He  who  has  so  ordered  it 
will  save  them  without  any  aid  from  you  ;  and  if 
otherwise  He  has  purposed,  and  has  doomed  them 
to  a  watery  grave,  what  puny  power  of  yours  can 
rescue  them  from  the  doom  ? "  Would  you,  in 
these  circumstances,  like  the  doctrine?  would  you 
relish  this  kind  of  application  of  your  own  principle  ? 
Yet  the  cases  are  parallel.  If  you  v  ould  not  relish 
it  then,  be  assured  you  are  deceiving  yourselves,  or 
you  are  hypocritically  deceiving  others,  in  applying 
it  as  you  do  now.  If  you  were  as  much  in  earnest 
about  your  eternal  as  about  your  temporal  interests 
— about  the  life  of  your  souls  as  about  the  life  of 
your  bodies  :  if  you  felt  your  danger  in  the  one  case 
as  you  feel  it  in  the  other,  and  were  as  anxious  for 
safety  ;  Divine  purposes  would  not  give  you  another 
moment's  thought  ; — you  would  listen  at  once  to 
Divine  entreaties  and  flee  to  the  refuge. 

I  have  said  that  the  cases  are  parallel.  There  is 
one  point,  however,  in  wliich  the  parallelism  fails; 
and  that  point  is  all  against  you.  In  regard  to  your 
present   or  temporal   life,  you   have   no  assurance 


ELECTION, 


(    313    ) 


ELECTION. 


given  you  that  by  ealing  of  the  "meat  that  perish- 
eth"  it  will  actually  be  prolonged, — that  a  single 
day  or  hour  will  be  added  to  it.  Notwithstanding 
this  ignorance,  you  eat.  You  eat  from  the  mere 
knowledge  of  the  necessity  and  the  tendency, 
although  entirely  unassured  of  the  actual  effect. 
Eut  in  the  case  to  which  you  are  applying  your 
principle,  it  is  otherwise  ;  and  it  is  the  only  case  in 
which  it  is  so.  With  regard  to  the  "bread  of  life," 
— the  "true  bread," — the  "bread  from  heaven, 
that  giveth  life  unto  the  world,"  you  have  the  posi- 
tive Divine  assurance,  that  "whosoever  eateth  of 
this  bread  shall  live  for  ever."  IJow  strange,  then, 
the  infatuation  !  You  eat  with  avidity  "  the  meat 
that  perisheth,"  when  you  have  no  more  than  a  per- 
adventure  that  the  frail  life  which  it  is  meant  to 
sustain  shall  continue  for  an  hour ;  and  yet  you 
refuse  the  "living  bread,"  although  you  have  the 
assurance  of  Him  who  cannot  lie,  that  none  who  eat 
of  it  can  ever  be  "hurt  of  the  second  death,"  and 
that,  if  you  eat  of  it,  the  eternal  life  of  your  soul  is 
secure.  You  eat  for  the  sake  of  tlie  one  life,  on  the 
ground  of  a  probability  ;  you  refuse  to  eat  for  the 
sake  of  the  other  on  the  ground  of  a  certainty  !  In 
the  peril  of  a  shipwreck,  even  the  life-boat  may  fail 
you  ;  but  to  the  perishing  sinner,  who  feels  his 
danger,  and  who  calls  to  Him  for  succour,  Christ  is 
a  refuge  that  never  fails.  None  ever  applied  to  Him 
in  vain  ;  and  none  whose  soul's  salvation  He  under- 
takes can  ever  perish  !  If  you  do  perish,  then  the 
blame  rests  with  yourselves.  You  perish  by  an  act 
of  self-destruction.  It  is  by  no  influence  of  any 
secret  decree  of  heaven  that  you  are  lost ; — it  is  the 
result  of  your  own  free  and  unconstrained  choice. 
God  offers  you  life,  and  you  choose  death ; — He 
offers  you  holiness,  and  you  choose  sin  ; — He  offers 
you  His  blessing,  and  you  choose  His  curse; — He 
offers  you  Himself,  and  you  choose  the  world  ; — He 
offers  you  heaven,  and  you  choose  hell ! 

—  Wardlaw. 

6.  Does  not  discharge  us  from  the  obligation 
to  use  the  appointed  means. 

{1785.)  Ludovicus,  who  was  a  learned  man  of 
Italy,  yet  wanting  the  guidance  of  God's  Spirit, 
and  so,  never  considering  advisedly  of  the  means  of 
His  salvation,  grew  at  last  to  this  resolution  :  "  .SV 
salvabor,  salvabor"  ^'c.  —  "  It  is  no  matter  what  I  do 
or  how  I  live,  for  if  I  be  saved  I  am  saved  ;  if  I  be 
predestinated  to  life  I  am  sure  of  salvation  ;  if  other- 
wise, I  cannot  help  it."  Thus  bewitched  with 
this  desperate  opinion,  he  continued  a  long  time, 
till  at  length  he  grew  very  dangerously  sick,  where- 
upon he  sent  for  a  skilful  physician,  and  earnestly 
requested  his  help.  The  physician,  aforehand 
made  acquainted  with  his  former  lewd  assertion, 
how  he  would  usually  say,  "  If  I  am  saved  I  am 
saved,"  directed  his  speech  to  the  same  purpose, 
and  said,  "  Surely  it  will  be  altogether  needless  to 
use  any  means  for  your  recovery,  neither  do  I  pur- 
pose to  administer  anything  unto  you  ;  for  if  the 
time  of  your  death  be  now  come,  it  is  impossible  to 
avoid  it. "  Ludovicus,  musing  in  his  bed  of  the 
matter,  and  taking  the  physician's  speech  into 
serious  consideration,  makes  out  this  conclusion  to 
himself: — That  if  means  were  to  be  used  for  the 
health  of  the  body,  then  much  more  had  God  also 
ordained  means  for  the  salvation  of  men's  souls. 
And  so,  upon  further  conference  (with  shame  and 
grieO,  he  recanted  his  former  opinion,  took  physic, 
4nd   was   happilf   cured   both  oV   soul   and   body 


together.  Thus  it  is  that  the  determinate  counsel 
of  God,  in  the  matter  of  predestination,  doth  not 
take  away  the  nature  and  property  of  secondary 
causes,  nor  exclude  the  means  of  salvation,  but 
rather  sets  them  in  order  and  disposes  of  them  to 
their  proper  end.  And  common  sens'  and  reason 
teach  that  in  every  action  the  end  and  the  -leans 
of  the  end  must  go  together.  — Maxey,  1658. 

(1786.)  'When  you  are  dangerously  sick,  and  the 
physician  tells  you  unless  you  take  such  a  course  of 
physic,  your  case  is  desperate,  do  you  use  to  reason 
thus  :  If  I  knew  that  God  had  decreed  my  recovery, 
I  would  take  that  course  that  is  so  like  to  re- 
store me  ;  but  till  I  know  that  God  has  decreed 
my  recovery  I'll  take  nothing?  Surely  we  should 
think  such  a  reasoner  not  only  sick,  but  distracted. 
Thus  it  is  here.  The  sinner  is  ready  to  perish  ; 
apply  thyself  to  Christ,  says  the  Lord,  cast  thyself 
on  Him,  apply  the  promise  ;  there  is  no  other  way  to 
save  thy  life.  Oh,  says  he,  if  I  knew  the  Lord  had 
decreed  my  salvation,  I  would  venture  on  Christ ; 
but  till  I  know  this,  I  must  not  believe.  Oh,  the 
unreasonableness  of  unbelief !  This  is  as  if  an 
Israelite,  stung  with  the  fiery  serpent,  should  have 
said.  If  I  knew  that  the  Lord  had  decreed  my  cure, 
I  would  look  upon  the  brazen  serpent  ;  but  till  I 
know  this,  though  there  be  no  other  way  to  save  my 
life,  I  will  not  look  on  it.  If  all  the  stung  Israelites 
had  been  thus  resolved,  it  is  likely  they  had  all 
perished. 

Or,  as  if  one  pursued  by  the  avenger  of  blood, 
should  have  set  him  down  in  the  way  to  the  city  of 
refuge,  when  he  should  have  been  flying  for  his  life, 
and  said.  If  I  knew  that  the  Lord  had  decreed  my 
escape,  I  would  make  haste  for  refuge  ;  but  till  I 
know  this,  I  will  not  stir,  till  I  die  for  it.  Would 
not  this  be  counted  a  wilful  casting  away  his  life, 
with  a  neglect  of  that  provision  which  God  had 
made  to  save  it  ?  Was  it  not  sufficient  that  a  way 
was  made  for  his  escape,  and  a  way  feasible  enough, 
the  city  of  refuge  always  open?  Even  so  are  the 
arms  of  Christ  always  open  to  receive  a  perishing 
sinner  fleeing  to  Him  for  refuge.  And  wilt  thou 
destroy  thyself  by  suffering  Satan  to  entangle  thee 
with  a  needless,  impertinent,  and  unreasonable 
scruple?  If  there  be  no  way  but  one,  and  any  en- 
couraging probability  to  draw  men  into  it,  they  fly 
into  it  without  delay,  never  perplexing  themselves 
with  the  decrees  and  secrets  of  God.  This  is  thy 
case,  Christ  is  thy  way  ;  there  is  no  way  but  this 
one,  fly  to  it  as  for  thy  life ;  and  let  not  Satan 
hinder  thee,  by  diverting  thee  to  impossibilities  and 
impertinencies.  — Clai-kson,  1621-1686. 

(1787.)  Heaven  is  not  the  purchase  or  reward  of 
your  striving.  No  soul  shall  boastingly  say  there, 
Is  not  this  the  glory  which  my  duties  and  diligence 
purchased  for  me  ?  And  yet,  on  the  other  side,  it 
is  as  true,  that  without  striving  you  shall  never  set 
foot  there.  Say  not,  it  depends  on  the  pleasure  of 
God,  and  not  upon  your  diligence  ;  for  it  is  His 
declared  will  and  pleasure  to  bring  men  to  glory  in 
the  way,  though  not  for  the  sake,  of  their  own  striv- 
ing. As  in  the  works  of  your  civil  calling,  you 
know  all  the  care,  toil,  and  sweat  of  the  husband- 
man avails  nothing  of  itself,  except  the  sun  and  rain 
quicken  and  ripen  the  fruits  of  the  earth  ;  and  yet 
no  wise  man  will  neglect  ploughing  and  harrowingj 
sowing  and  reaping,  because  these  labours  avail  not 
without  the  influence  of  heaven,  but  waits  for  them 


ELECTION. 


(    314    ) 


ELECTION. 


}n  the  way  of  his  duty  and  diligence.  Rational 
hope  sets  all  the  world  to  work.  Do  they  plough 
in  hope,  and  sow  in  hope,  and  will  you  not  pray  in 
Lope,  and  hear  in  hope?      — Havel,  1630-1691, 

(17S8.)  If  you  will  needs  be  fools,  let  it  be  about 
these  worldly  things  which  you  may  better  spare. 
Try  your  own  opinion  awhile,  and  give  over  eating 
ind  drinking  and  working ;  but  do  not  befool 
yourselves  about  the  one  thing  necessary,  and  play 
not  the  madmen  about  the  flames  of  hell,  and  do 
not  in  such  jest  throw  away  your  salvation.  It 
were  a  hundred  times  a  wiser  course  for  a  man  to 
set  his  house  01  fire,  and  say,  "  If  God  have  decreed 
the  saving  of  it,  the  fire  shall  not  burn  it  ;  if  he 
have  not,  it  will  perish  whatsoever  I  do."  1  tell 
you  again,  God  hath  not  ordinarily  decreed  the  end 
without  the  means ;  and  if  you  will  neglect  the 
means  of  salvation,  it  is  a  certain  mark  that  God 
hath  not  decreed  you  to  salvation.  But  you  shall 
find  that  He  hath  left  you  no  excuse,  because  He 
bath  not  thus  predestinated  you. 

—  Baxter,  1615-1691, 

(1789.)  I  used  to  think  that  the  doctrine  of 
election  was  a  reason  why  we  need  not  pray,  and 
I  fear  there  are  many  who  split  upon  this  rock, 
who  think  it  is  to  no  purpose  to  pray,  as  things 
will  be  as  they  will  be.  But  I  now  see  that  the 
doctrine  of  election  is  the  greatest  encouragement 
instead  of  a  discouragement  to  prayer.  He  that 
decreed  that  any  one  should  be  finally  saved, 
decreed  that  it  should  be  in  the  way  of  prayer  ; 
as  much  as  He  that  has  decreed  what  we  shall 
possess  of  the  things  of  this  life,  has  decreed  that 
it  shall  be  in  the  way  of  industry  ;  and  as  we  never 
think  of  being  idle  in  common  business,  because 
God  has  decreed  what  we  shall  possess  of  tliis 
world's  good,  so  neither  should  we  be  slothful  in 
the  business  of  our  souls,  because  our  final  state  is 
decreed.  — Andrew  /•idler,  1754- 181 5. 

(1790.)  All  events  are  equally  sure  and  fixed  of 
God,  equally  foreknown  by  Him  ;  but  this  con- 
sideration does  not  repress  our  energies  in  other 
pursuits  of  a  merely  secular  kind  ;  why  then  should 
we  suffer  it  to  impede  us  in  the  search  after  salva- 
tion ?  Here  is  a  house  on  fire,  and  tlie  devouring 
clement  is  rapidly  enveloping  the  whole  edifice 
and  endangering  the  lives  of  its  inmates.  Now, 
Ciod  knows  infallibly,  and  hath  fixed  beforehand, 
how  much  of  the  property  will  be  destroyed,  and 
how  much  will  be  spared,  which  of  the  inmates 
shall  escape,  and  which  will  perish  in  the  confla- 
gration. But  who,  on  this  account,  makes  one 
efibrt  less  for  the  rescue  of  either  goods  or  lives? 

When  Paul  was  shipwrecked  off  Melita,  he  told 
the  whole  crew  that  not  a  hair  of  their  heads  should 
perish  ;  but  it  was  by  each  one  being  commanded 
tu  make  his  way  to  the  shore  when  the  vessel  went 
to  iiieces.  Some  swam,  and  some  on  boanls  and 
some  on  broken  pieces  ofthe  ship  did  what  they  could 
for  themselves.  "  And  so  it  came  to  pass,  that 
they  all  escaped  safe  to  land." 

—  T.  G.  Norton, 

(1791.)  You  have  practically  nothing  to  do  with 
the  Divine  foreknowledge,  or  with  (jod's  predesti- 
nating decree.  Your  conduct  should  be  just  the 
same  as  if  He  knew  nothmg  of  the  future,  and 
whether  you  would  at  last  !)•>  lost  or  saved.  It  is  as 
if  a  mighty  chain  had  beei    let  down  from  heaven 


to  earth,  the  extremities  of  which  weie  hidden  from 
us,  while  only  the  central  links  were  visible  to  our 
gaze,  or  within  the  reach  of  our  grasp.  One  end  of 
that  chain  is  concealed  far  away  in  the  past,  and 
the  other  lies  equally  remote  in  the  future,  but 
both,  though  alike  hidden  in  darkness  inscrutable, 
are  alike  firmly  riveted  to  the  throne-  of  the 
Almighty.  We  cannot  trace  the  links  of  this  seem- 
ingly interminable  piogression  either  far  forward  or 
far  backward.  What  then  are  we  to  do?  Shall 
we  waste  our  time  in  petulant  complaints,  because 
our  knowledge  is  so  limited  ?  Shall  we  fold  our 
hands  in  listless  or  in  scornful  apathy,  because  we 
may  err  in  our  conjectures  concerning  the  past  or 
future?  No,  let  our  course  be  that  which  alone 
wisdom  dictates  :  let  us  lay  hold  on  the  links  that 
are  close  at  hand.  Let  us  do  the  work  which  im- 
mediately demands  our  care.  Let  us  rejient  and 
believe  the  gospel.  And  then  we  may  know  that 
as  God  is  true,  and  His  purpose  unchangeable,  we 
are  in  the  high  road  to  glory.       — T.  G.  hor'.on. 

(1792.)  Do  you  say  :  "/believe  in  foreordies- 

tion,  and  am  waiting  '  God's  time  '  "  ? 

Foreordination  !  that  is  a  shameful  sham.  God'f. 
time  is  "now."  He  never  has  any  other  time. 
Foreordination  is  nothing  for  you  to  meddle  with, 
any  more  in  religious  than  in  money-making 
matters.  In  each  it  is  in  equal  force,  but  'tis  God  s 
business,  not  yours.  If  you  will  meddle  with  it, 
you  deserve  to  get  befogged  and  puzzled,  though 
there's  nothing  against,  but  everything  for,  you  in 
it.     But  let  it  alone  if  it  troubles  you. 

What  farmer  when  the  sun  runs  high,  and  the 
earth  is  ready  for  the  seed,  and  the  small  rain  and 
the  dew  are  coming  on  the  earth,  says  :  "  I  believe 
in  foreordination  ;  I  shall  not  take  the  trouble  to 
plant.  If  I'm  to  have  a  harvest,  I  shall  have 
one  "  ?  Or  what  merchant  when  he  goes  to  his  store 
in  the  morning,  says  :  "  If  I'm  to  have  a  good  large 
heap  of  money  in  my  till  to-night,  I  shad  have  it 
there.  No  need  for  me  to  trouble  myself  to  please 
customers  ;  I  believe  in  foreordination  "  ? 

Men  are  not  fools  enough  for  this  in  temporal 
concerns,  though  plenty  of  them  are  so  in  regard  to 
the  interests  of  their  immortal  souls.  No,  when 
they  see  God  working  for  them  in  nature,  they  take 
hold,  with  a  right  good  will,  and  work  too.  And, 
as  a  general  thing,  they  gain  the  blessing  foi 
which  they  strive.  In  other  words,  they  do,  in 
these  minor  matters,  "work  with  God,"  to  vvill  and 
to  do  of  His  own  good  pleasure  ;  but  when  it  comes 
to  spiritual  work,  they  hold  quickly  back,  and 
exclaim:  "Oh!  foreordination!"  But  this  will 
be  no  plea  for  them,  when  they  come  forth  from 
their  graves,  and  when,  from  mountain  and  valley, 
and  from  the  dark  waves  of  the  sea,  they  lift  up 
their  blanched  faces  to  their  Judge.  Of  all  the 
myriads  who  will  stand  before  Him,  there  will  not 
be  one  who  will  have  a  word  to  say — they  will  be 
' '  speechless. "  — Beecher. 

6.  Speculations  concerning  It  are  unwise  and 
perilous. 

('793)  T'o  inquire  the  way  and  manner  by  which 
God  makes  a  few  do  accejitable  works,  or  how  out 
of  a  coirupt  lump  He  selects  and  purifies  a  few,  is 
but  a  stumbling-block  and  a  temptation.  Who 
asks  a  charitable  man  that  gave  him  an  alms  where 
he  got  it,  or  why  he  gave  it  r  Will  any  favourite, 
whom  his  prince  only  for  his  appliableness  to  hiai. 


ELECTION. 


(    315    ) 


ELECTICN. 


tit  some  lialf  virtue,  or  his  own  glory,  burdens  with 
honour  and  fortunes  every  day,  and  destines  to 
future  oftlces  and  dignities,  dispute  or  expostulate 
with  his  prince  wliy  he  ratiier  chose  not  another; 
how  he  will  restore  his  coti'ers,  how  he  will  quench 
his  people's  murmuring,  by  whom  this  liberality  is 
fed  :  or  his  nobility,  with  whom  he  equals  new- 
men  ;  and  will  not  rather  repose  himself  gratefully 
in  the  wisdom,  greatness,  and  bounty  of  his  master  ? 
AVil!  a  languishing,  desperate  patient,  that  hath 
scarcely  time  enough  to  swallow  the  potion,  examine 
the  physician  how  he  procured  those  ingredients, 
how  that  soil  nourished  them,  which  humour  they 
affect  in  the  body,  whether  they  work  by  excess  of 
quality,  or  specifically  ;  whether  he  have  prepared 
them  by  correcting,  or  else  by  withdrawing,  their 
malignity,  and  for  such  unnecessary  scruples  neglect 
his  health  ?  Alas  !  our  time  is  little  enough  for 
prayer,  and  praise,  and  society,  which  is  for  our 
mutual  duties. 

Moral  divinity  becomes  us  all,  but  natural  divin- 
ity and  metaphysic  divinity  almost  all  may  spare. 
Almost  all  tiie  ruptures  in  the  Christian  Church 
have  been  occasioned  by  such  bold  disputations 
tie  moJo.  — Doiiiif,  1573-1631. 

(1794.)  If  a  child  of  eight  or  ten  years  old,  hearing 
a  philosopher  discourse  of  the  greatness  and  course 
cf  the  sun,  should  argue  against  him,  and  maintain 
that  the  same  were  no  greater  than  a  platter,  neither 
of  any  swifter  pace  than  a  snail,  the  philosopher 
would  not  stanil  upon  the  delivery  of  the  reason  of 
his  discourse  unto  him,  because  the  child  could  not 
be  cai)able  to  conceive  it,  but  he  would  tell  him, 
"  Thou  art  yet  a  child  : "  even  so  is  man,  in  com- 
parison of  (jod,  infinitely  less  in  knowledge  than  is 
a  child  in  comparison  of  the  most  excellent  philoso- 
pher in  the  world,  and  therefore  he  ought  not  to 
reason,  strive,  or  dis[nite  with  God,  why  lie  either 
electeth  some  to  salvation  or  reprobateth  others  to 
damnation.  — Ccnvdi-ay,  1609. 

(1795)  Whatever  the  decrees  of  God  be  concern- 
ing the  eternal  state  of  men,  since  they  are  secret  to 
us,  they  can  certainly  be  no  rule  either  of  our  duty 
or  comfort.  And  no  man  hath  reason  to  think  him- 
self rejected  of  God,  either  from  eternity  or  in  time, 
that  dues  not  find  the  marks  of  reprobatiien  in  him- 
self 1  mean  an  evil  heart  and  life.  By  this  indeed 
a  man  may  know  that  he  is  out  of  God's  favour  for 
the  present  ;  but  he  hath  no  reason  at  all,  from  hence, 
to  conclude  that  God  hath  from  all  eternity  and  for 
ever  cast  him  off.  That  God  calls  him  to  rejient- 
ance,  and  affords  to  him  the  space  and  means  of  it, 
is  a  much  plainer  sign  that  God  is  w'illing  and 
ready  to  have  mercy  on  him  than  anything  else  is, 
or  can  '_,e,  that  God  hath  utterly  cast  him  off.  And 
therefore  for  men  to  judge  of  their  condition  by  the 
decrees  of  God  which  are  hid  from  us,  and  not  by 
His  Word  which  is  near  us  and  in  our  hearts,  is  as 
if  a  man  wandering  in  the  wide  sea  in  a  dark  night, 
when  the  heaven  is  all  clouded  about,  should  yet 
resolve  to  steer  his  course  by  the  stars  which  he 
cannot  see,  but  only  guess  at,  and  neglect  the  com- 
pass which  is  at  hand  and  would  afiord  him  a 
much  better  ar.i  more  certain  direction. 

—  Tillotson,  1630-1694. 

(1796.)  Many  men  are  swamped  in  the  doctrines 
of  election  and  predestination,  but  this  is  supreme 
impertinence.  They  are  truths  which  belong  to 
^iod,  and  if  you  are  troubled  by  them,  it  is  because 


you  are  meddling  with  what  does  not  belong  to  you. 
You  only  need  to  understand  that  all  Godsagenciei 
are  to  assist  you  in  gaining  your  salvation,  if  you 
will  but  use  them  rightly.  'J"o  doubt  this  is  as  if 
men  in  a  boat,  pulling  against  the  tide,  and  with  all 
their  efforts  going  backv\ards  every  hour,  should  by 
and  by  find  the  current  turning,  and  see  the  wind 
springing  up  with  it  and  filling  the  sails,  and  hear 
the  man  at  the  helm  exclaim,  "'  Row  awav,  boys  1 
wind  and  tide  are  in  your  lavour, "  and  they  should 
all  say,  "What  shall  we  do  with  the  oars?  Do  not 
the  wind  and  the  tide  take  away  our  free  agenc)  ?" 

— Bcdiher. 

('797-)  I  don't  blame  a  man  for  not  understand- 
ing tlie  mysteries  of  God  any  more  than  1  should 
blame  one.  who  was  standing  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
for  saying,  "  I  can't." 

"Can't  ■:c/iat?" 

"  I  cannot." 

"  Cannot  what?" 

"  I've  been  in  ankle  deep,  and  knee  deep,  and 
thigh  deep  ;  I've  been  in  all  over,  and  it's  no  use ; 
1  never  can  wade  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean." 

"Of  course  you  can't — nobody  told  you  to.  What 
did  you  try  for?  God  never  meant  to  have  you  do 
it,  or  He  would  have  made  it  more  shallow." 

Just  in  this  way  do  men  act  in  regard  to  doctrines. 
They  go  out  a  little  way  on  election,  and  back  they 
come  shaking  their  heads  and  saying,  "  It's  very 
mysterious  ;  I  can't  undeistand  it."  Then  they  try 
free  agency,  then  decrees,  &c.,  but  they  have  no 
belter  success  with  them.  \N'ell,  what  of  it  ?  Man, 
by  all  his  searching,  cannot  find  out  God.  I  am 
not  ashamed  to  say  that  I  do  not  understand  I  lis 
mysteries.  I  believe  that  what  He  says  is  true,  if  I 
cannot  reconcile  it.  My  own  consciousness  agrees 
with  the  most  seemingly  contradictory  passages 
concerning  free  will  and  sovereignty.  I  know  that 
I  am  free,  that  by  my  own  choice  1  perform  moral 
acts  ;  that  with  me  lies  the  power  of  sinning,  or 
refraining  from  sin  ;  and  yet  when  1  go  forth  with 
my  most  buoyant  sense  of  freedom  to  think  and  act, 
I  am  conscious  of  influences,  of  barriers,  which  say, 
"  Thus  far,  and  no  farther."  I  feel  in  my  very 
nature  that  I  am  free,  and  yet  that  I  do  not  direct 
my  own  steps,  nor  appoint  my  own  Ijoumls.  1  ca'n- 
not  reconcile  this.    I  know  it ;  and  there  it  must  rest. 

God  does  us  no  violence.  He  uses  us  through 
the  very  nature  which  He  gave  to  us,  and  through 
our  free  will.  The  mulberry  leaves  are  stripped 
from  the  tree,  and  the  food  which  they  make  for 
the  worm  acts  upon  it  according  to  its  own  nature. 
As  their  nature  dictates,  the  worms  spin  their 
cocoons,  and  sleep  in  tliem.  Then  when  the  little 
spinners  have  been  despoiled,  the  loom  is  made, 
and  the  silk  is  woven  and  stamped  by  the  skill  of 
man.  Everything  has  been  used,  according  to  its 
nature,  in  the  construction  of  the  silk.  And  the 
web  which  God  is  weaving,  and  the  pattern  with 
which  He  will  ma-k  it,  will  all  be  clone  in  the  same 
way.  The  whole  plan  is'  in  His  min<l  now,  and  it 
will  result  as  He  intends,  but  only  through  the  free 
action  of  the  nature  He  has  given  to  man.  His 
plan  embraced  this  idea  from  the  very  beginning  of 
things,  and  every  contingency  is  provided  for  in  the 
eternal  mind.  — Beechei: 

1.  How  assuranae  of  personal  election  is  to  be 
attained. 

(1798.)  Some   are  much    troubled    because  they 


ELECTION. 


(    316    ) 


ERROR. 


oroceed  by  a  false  method  and  order  in  judging  of 
tlieir  estates.  They  will  begin  with  election,  which 
is  the  highest  step  of  the  ladder  ;  whereas  they 
should  begin  from  a  work  of  grace  wrought  within 
their  hearts,  from  God's  calling  by  His  Spirit,  and 
their  answer  to  His  call,  and  so  raise  themselves 
upwards  to  know  their  election  by  their  answer  to 
God's  calling.  "Give  all  diligence,"  says  Peter, 
"to  make  your  calling  and  election  sure,"  your 
election  by  your  calling.  God  descends  unto  us 
from  election  to  calling,  and  so  to  sanctification  ;  we 
must  ascend  to  Him  beginning  where  He  ends. 
Otherwise  it  is  a  great  folly  as  in  removing  of  a  pile 
of  wood,  to  begin  at  the  lower  first,  and  so,  besides 
the  needless  trouble,  to  be  in  danger  to  have  the 
rest  to  fall  upon  our  heads. 

—Sibbes,  1 577- T  635. 

(1799.)  We  know  there  is  a  sun  in  heaven,  yet 
we  cannot  see  what  matter  it  is  made  of,  but  per- 
ceive it  only  by  the  beams,  light,  and  heat.  Elec- 
tion is  a  sun,  the  eyes  of  eagles  cannot  see  it  ;  yet 
we  may  find  it  in  the  heat  of  vocation,  in  the  light 
of  illumination,  in  the  beams  of  good  works. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(1800.)  The  head  of  Nilus  cannot  be  found,  they 
say  ;  but  many  sweet  springs  issuing  from  it  are 
well  known.  The  head  of  our  election  is  too  high 
and  secret  to  be  found  ;  yet  we  may  taste  the 
springs,  our  calling,  holiness,  justification,  and  up- 
right life ;  and  he  that  runs  along  by  the  bank  of 
these  rivers  siiafl  be  brought  at  last  to  that  loun- 
tain-head,  even  the  place  and  book  wherein  his  own 
name  stands  written.  — A'iams,  1653. 

(1801.)  Mark  in  what  order:  first,  our  calling; 
then,  our  election :  not  beginning  with  our  election 
first.  It  were  as  bold,  as  absurd,  a  presumption  in 
vain  men,  first  to  begin  at  heaven,  and  from  thence 
to  descend  to  earth.  The  angels  of  God  upon 
Jacob's  ladder  both  ascended  and  descended  ;  but, 
surely,  we  must  ascend  only  from  earth  to  heaven  ; 
by  our  calling,  arguing  our  election.  If  we  con- 
sider of  God's  working  and  proceeding  with  us,  it 
is  one  thing  :  there,  He  first  foreknows  us,  and 
predestinates  us;  then  He  calls  us,  and  justifies  us  ; 
then  He  glorifies  us.  If  we  consider  the  order  of 
our  apprehending  the  state  wherein  we  stand  with 
God— there,  we  are  first  called,  then  justified  ;  and 
thereby  come  to  be  assured  of  our  predestination, 
and  glory.  Think  not,  therefore,  to  climb  up  into 
heaven,  and  there  to  read  your  names  in  the  book 
Df  God's  eternal  decree  ;  and  thereupon  to  build  the 
certainty  of  your  calling,  believing,  persevering  : 
the  course  is  presumptuously  preposterous  :  but  by 
the  truth  of  your  effectual  calling  and  true  believing. 
grow  up  at  last,  towards  a  comfortable  assurance  of 
your  election  ;  which  is  the  just  method  of  our 
apostle  here,  "  Make  your  calling  and  election 
sure."  —Hall,  1 574-1 656. 

(1802.)  If  any  man  would  know  whether  the  sun 
shineth  or  not,  let  him  go  no  further,  but  look  upon 
the  ground  to  see  the  reflection  of  the  sunbeams 
from  thence,  and  not  upon  the  body  of  the  sun, 
which  will  but  the  more  dazzle  his  sight.  The  pat- 
tern is  known  by  the  picture,  the  cause  by  the 
effect.  Let  no  man,  then,  soar  aloft  to  know 
whether  he  be  elected  or  not,  but  let  him  gather 
the  knowledge  of  his  election  from  the  eflectuainess 
of  hiscaJy^g  and  sanctification  of  his  life,  the  true 


and   proper  effects  of  a   lively  faith  stamping  the 
image  of  God's  elec'.ion  in  his  soul.  — Ne^us. 


ERROR. 

1.  Its  source. 

( 1 803. )  When  some  men  look  up  to  the  clouds,  they 
imagine  them  to  have  the  forms  of  men,  of  armies, 
castles,  &c.,  whereas  none  else  can  see  any  such  things, 
nor  is  there  any  true  resemblance  of  such  things  at 
all  ;  and  some,  again,  there  are  who,  when  they 
have  somewhat  of  rolls  and  tumbles  in  their  thoughts, 
think  that  the  ringing  of  bells,  the  beatmg  of  ham- 
mers, the  report  that  is  made  by  great  guns,  or  any 
other  measured,  intermitted  noise,  doth  articulately 
sound  and  spe.ik  the  same  which  is  in  their  thoughts. 
Thus  it  is  that  a  strong  imagination  or  fancy  becomes 
very  powerful  as  to  persuasion  in  the  matters  of  God 
and  religion.  Hence  it  is,  therefore,  that  most  of 
those  who  are  unlearned  and  unstable  wrest  the 
Scriptures,  thinking  they  find  that  in  them  which, 
indeed,  is  not  there  to  iDe  found  ;  persuading  them- 
selves that  the  Scripture  represents  to  them  such 
formed  opinions,  such  and  such  grounded  tenets, 
when,  without  all  doubt,  they  do  but  patch  and  lay 
things  together  without  any  reason  at  all  ;  from 
whence  have  proceeded  the  senseless  dotages  of 
heretics,  and  of  late  the  whimsical  conceits  of  some 
dreamers,  who  have  flown  about  in  their  most 
ridiculous  papers,  wherein  they  bring  Scripture  with 
them,  but  no  sense,  fancying  the  holy  Word  of  God 
to  strike,  to  ring,  and  chime  to  their  tunes,  to  echo 
out  unto  tlieir  wild  conceptions,  and  answer  all  thei* 
undigested  notions.  — Torshell,  1649. 

2.  Is  worse  than  Ignorance. 

(1804.)  It  is  almost  as  difficult  to  make  a  man 
unleirn  his  errors  as  his  knowledge.  Malinforma- 
tion  is  more  hopeless  than  noninformation ;  for 
error  is  always  more  busy  than  ignorance.  Igno- 
rance is  a  blank  sheet  on  which  we  may  write  ;  but 
error  is  a  scribbled  one  on  which  we  must  first  erase. 
Ignorance  is  contented  to  stand  still  with  her  back 
to  the  truth  ;  but  error  is  more  presumptuous,  and 
proceeds  in  the  sa/iie  direction.  Ignorance  has  no 
light,  but  error  follows  a  false  one.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  error,  when  she  retraces  her  footsteps, 
has  farther  to  go  before  she  can  anive  at  the  truth 
than  ignorance.  — Colton. 

(1805.)  That  time  and  labour  are  worse  than  use- 
less that  have  been  occupied  in  laying  up  treasures 
of  false  knowledge,  which  it  will  be  one  day  neces- 
sary to  unlearn,  and  in  storing  up  mistaken  ideas 
which  we  must  hereafter  remember  to  forget. 
Timotheus,  an  ancient  teacher  of  rhetoric,  always 
demanded  a  double  fee  from  those  pupils  who  had 
been  instructed  by  others  ;  for  in  this  case,  he  had 
not  only  to  plant  in,  but  also  to  root  out. 

— Colton 

3.  When  It  Is  most  dangerous. 

(1806.)  Error  is  never  so  dangerous  as  when  it  is 
the  alloy  of  truth.  Pure  error  would  be  rejected  ; 
but  error  mixed  with  truth  makes  use  of  the  truth  as 
a  pioneer  for  it,  and  gets  introduction  where  other- 
wise it  would  have  none.  Poison  is  never  so  dan- 
gerous as  when  mixed  up  with  food  ;  error  is  never 
so  likely  to  do  mischief  as  when  it  comes  to  us  under 
the  pretensions  and  patronage  of  that  which  is  true. 

'—Cumming. 


ERROR. 


(    3^7    ) 


ERROR. 


(1807.)  Error  is  sometimes  so  nearly  allied  to 
truth,  that  it  blends  with  it  as  imperceptibly  as  the 
colours  of  the  rainbow  fade  into  each  other. 

—  IV.  B.  Clulow. 

4.  How  It  gains  a  footing  In  tlie  world. 

(180S. )  In  every  religious  error  which  lias  gained 
a  footing  in  the  world  there  is  some  mixture  of  truth. 
Absolute  error,  falsehood  with  no  mixture  of  truth, 
A'ould  contradict  men's  sense  of  what  is  just  and 
right  too  violently ;  it  would  not  be  sufficiently 
plausible,  its  leaden  weight  of  absurdity  would  sink 
it.  There  must  be  some  fragment  of  truth  attached, 
in  order  to  make  it  float  ;  and  in  nothing  has  the 
craft  of  Satan  and  of  his  agents  been  more  conspicu- 
ous than  in  the  sagacity  with  which  they  mix  a 
maximum  of  falsehood  with  a  minimum  of  truth. 
— L.  H.  Wise?nan. 

6.  How  it  is  diffused. 

(1809.)  As  in  dark  nights  pirates  used  to  kindle 
f.res  and  make  great  lights  upon  the  rocks  and 
maritime  coasts,  whither  when  the  seamen  steer  in 
hope  of  harbour,  they  meet  with  wreck  and  ruin  : 
so  heretics  flourish  with  Scripture,  or  at  least  with 
some  flashes  of  it,  like  false  lights  ;  to  wliich  when 
distressed  souls  repair  for  succour,  these  pestilent 
seducers  feed  them  with  nothing  but  pernicious  error. 

—Origan. 

(i8to.)  That  opinion  is  justly  to  be  suspected  for 
erroneous  which  comes  in  at  the  postern-door  of  the 
affections,  and  not  openly  and  fairly  at  the  right 
gate  of  an  enlightened  and  well-satisfied  judgment. 
It  is  a  thief  that  comes  in  at  the  back-door,  at  least 
strongly  to  be  suspected  for  one.  Truth  courts  the 
mistress,  makes  its  first  and  fairest  addresses  to  the 
understanding.  Error  bribes  the  handmaid,  and 
labours  first  to  win  the  affections,  that  by  their 
influence  it  may  corrupt  the  jud'^ment. 

— Fiavel,  1 630- 1 69 1. 

(1811.)  Hasty  engagements  in  weighty  and  dis- 
putable matters  have  cost  many  souls  dear.  As 
hasty  marriages  have  produced  long  and  late  repent- 
ance ;  so  has  the  clapping  up  of  a  hasty  match  be- 
twixt the  mind  and  error.  By  entertaining  of  strange 
persons,  men  sometimes  entertain  angels  unawares  ; 
but  by  entertaining  of  strange  doctrines,  many  have 
entertained  devils  unawares.  It  is  not  safe  to  open 
the  door  of  the  soul  to  let  in  strangers  in  the  night  ; 
let  them  wait  till  a  clear  daylight  of  information 
show  you  what  they  are.       — J-'lavel,  1630-  1691. 

(1812.)  Error  is  of  a  spreading  nature  ;  it  is  com- 
pared to  leaven,  because  it  sours  (Matt.  xvi.  11), 
and  to  a  gangrene,  because  it  spreads  (2  Tim.  ii.  17). 
I.  One  error  spreads  into  more,  like  a  circle  in  the 
water  that  multiples  into  more  circles  ;  one  error 
seldom  goes  alone.  2.  Error  spreads  from  one 
person  to  another  ;  it  is  like  the  plague,  which  in- 
fects all  round  about.  Satan,  by  infecting  one 
person  with  error,  infects  more  ;  the  error  of  Pela- 
gius  did  spread  on  a  sudden  to  Palestine,  Africa, 
and  Italy  ;  the  Arian  error  was  at  first  but  a  single 
spark,  but  at  last  it  set  almost  all  the  world  on 
fire.  — IVaison. 

(181 3  )  The  progress  of  error,  like  that  of  sin,  is 
from  small  beginnings  to  awful  and  unthought  of 
consequences.  Gospel  truth,  like  a  bank  opposed 
to  a  torrent,  must  be  preserved  entire  to  be  useful ; 
if  a  breach  is  once  made,  though  it  may  seem  at 


first  to  be  small,  none  but  He  who  says  to  the  sea, 
"  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come,  but  no  farther,''  can  set 
bounds  to  the  threatening  inundation  that  will 
quickly  follow.  — Newlon,  1725-1807. 

6.  The  sinfulness  of  diflFuslng  it. 

(1814.)  As  he  is  a  traitor  to  his  prince  who  taketh 
upon  him  to  coin  moneys  out  of  a  base  metal — yea, 
although  in  the  stamp  he  putteth  forth  show  the 
image  of  the  prince — so  he  that  shall  broach  any 
doctrine  that  cometh  not  from  God,  whatsoever  he 
say  for  it,  or  what  gloss  soever  he  set  on  it,  is  a 
traitor  unto  God  ;  yea,  in  truth,  a  cursed  traitor, 
though  he  were  an  angel  from  heaven. 

— Abbot,  1 562-1 635. 

7.  Our  liability  to  it. 

(1815.)  Rays  of  light,  whether  they  proceed  from 
sun,  star,  or  candle,  move  in  perfectly  straight 
lines  :  yet  so  inferior  are  our  works  to  God's,  that 
the  steadiest  hand  cannot  draw  a  perfectly  straight 
line,  nor  with  all  his  skill  has  man  ever  been  able 
to  invent  an  instrument  capable  of  doing'  a  thing 
apparently  so  simple.  And  it  would  seem  to  be  as 
impossible  for  men  to  keep  the  even  line  of  tiuth 
between  what  appear  conflicting  doctrines  :  such  as 
the  decrees  of  God  and  our  free  will  ;  such  as  elec- 
tion by  grace  and  the  universal  offer  of  the  gospel  ; 
such  as  the  justifying  faith  of  Paul  and  the  justifying 
works  of  James.  — Guthrie. 

(1816.)  The  noblest  spirits  are  most  sensible  of  the 
possibility  of  error,  and  the  weakest  do  most  hardly 
lay  down  an  error.  — Whichcote,  1610-16S3. 

8.  Wlio  are  perverted  by  it. 

(1817.)  As  the  wind  doth  not  carry  away  the 
sound  wheat,  but  only  the  light  chaff;  neither  doth 
a  storm  overturn  a  tree  fast  rooted  :  even  so  no  more 
doth  every  wind  of  doctrine  carry  away  true  mem- 
bers of  the  Church,  but  the  chaff  and  rotten  members 
only,  as  heretics,  ignorant  persons,  hypocrites,  fan- 
tastical heads,  newfangled  men,  &c. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

{1818.)  If  we  flinch  never  so  little  from  God, 
presently  error  catcheth  us  ;  as  chickens  that  will 
stray  from  the  wings  of  the  hen  are  in  danger  of  the 
kite.  — Adams,  1653. 

9.  Tlie  evil  of  persistence  in  it. 

(1819.)  The  cynic  answered  smartly,  who,  coming 
out  of  a  brothel,  was  asked  whether  he  was  not 
ashamed  to  be  seen  coming  out  of  such  a  liad  house  ; 
"  No,"  said  he,  "  the  shame  was  to  go  in,  but  honesty 
to  come  out."  Oh  sirs,  it  is  bad  enough  to  fall  into 
an  error,  but  worse  to  persist  in  it.  The  first  shows 
thee  a  man,  luimanum  est  errare,  but  the  last  makes 
thee  like  a  devil,  that  will  not  repent. 

— GuniaLl,  1617-1679. 

10.  How  it  is  to  be  overthrown. 

(1820.)  My  principal  method  for  defeating  heresy 
is  by  establishing  truth.  One  proposes  to  fill  a 
bushel  with  lares ;  now  if  I  can  fill  it  first  with 
wheat,  I  shall  defy  his  attempts. 

— Newton,  17  25- 1807. 

(1821.)  These  are  questions  which  having  beei 
again  and  again  settled,  still  from  time  to  time  pre- 
sent themselves  for  7-c'-solution  ;  errors  which  having 
been  refuted,  and  cut  up  by  the  >oots,  reappear  in 
the    next   century  as  fresh  and  vigorous  as  ever. 


ERROR. 


(    $tS    ) 


ERROR. 


Like  the  fabled  monsters  of  old,  from  whose  dis- 
severed neck  the  blood  sprung  forth  and  formed 
fresh  heads,  multiplied  and  indestructible  ;  or  like 
the  weeds,  which,  extirjiated  in  one  place,  sprout 
forth  vigorously  in  anotlier. 

In  every  such  case  it  may  be  taken  for  granted 
that  the  root  of  the  matter  has  not  been  reached  ; 
the  error  has  been  exposed,  but  the  truth  which  lay 
at  the  bottom  of  the  error  has  not  been  disengaged. 
Every  error  is  connected  with  a  truth  ;  the  truth 
being  perennial,  springs  up  again,  as  often  as  cir- 
cumstances fofjter  it,  or  call  for  it ;  and  the  seeds  of 
error  which  lay  about  the  roots  spring  up  again  in 
the  form  of  weeds,  as  before. 

A  popular  illustration  of  this  may  be  found  in 
the  belief  in  the  appearance  of  the  spirits  of  the 
departed.  You  may  examine  the  evidence  for  every 
such  alleged  apparition  ;  you  may  demonstrate  the 
improVjability  ;  you  may  reduce  it  to  an  impossi- 
bility ;  still  the  popular  feeling  will  remain  ;  and 
there  is  a  lurking  superstition  even  among  the 
enlightened,  which  in  the  midst  of  professions  of 
incredulity,  shows  itself  in  a  readiness  to  believe  the 
wildest  new  tale  if  it  possess  but  the  semblance  of 
authentication.  Now  two  truths  lie  at  the  root  of 
this  superstition.  The  first  is  the  reality  of  the 
spirit-world,  and  the  instinctive  belief  in  it.  The 
second  is  the  fact  that  there  are  certain  states  of 
health  in  which  the  eye  creates  the  objects  which  it 
perceives.  The  death  blow  to  such  superstition 
is  only  struck  when  we  have  not  only  proved 
that  men  have  been  deceived,  but  shown  besides 
how  they  came  to  be  deceived  ;  when  science  has 
explained  the  optical  delusion,  and  shown  the 
physiological  state  in  which  such  apparitions  become 
visible.  Ridicule  will  not  do  it.  Disproof  will 
not  do  it.  So  long  as  men  feel  that  there  is  a 
spirit-worid,  and  so  long  as  to  s<mie  the  impression 
is  vivid  that  they  have  seen  it,  you  spend  your  rhe- 
toric in  vain.  You  must  show  the  truth  that  lies 
below  the  error. 

The  principle  we  gain  from  tliis  is  that  you  can- 
not overthrow  falsehood  by  negation,  but  by  estab- 
lishing the  antagonistic  truth.  The  refutation  which 
is  to  last  must  be  positive,  not  negative.  It  is  an 
endless  work  to  be  uprooting  weeds ;  plant  the 
ground  with  vviiolesome  vegetation,  and  then  the 
juices  which  would  have  otherwise  fed  rankness, 
will  pour  themselves  into  a  more  vigorous  growth  ; 
the  dwindled  weeds  v.'ill  be  easily  raked  out  then. 
It  is  an  endless  task  to  be  refuting  error  1  Plant 
truth,  and  the  error  will  pine  away. 

— F.  IV.  Robertson,  1817-1853. 

11.  Error,  schism,  and  heresy. 

{1822.)  As  natural,  so  politic  bodies  have  nttem 
et  cuticiilam.  The  little  thin  skin  which  covers  all 
our  body  may  be  broken  without  pain  or  danger, 
and  may  reunite  itself,  because  it  consists  not  of  the 
chief  and  principient  parts.  But  if  in  the  skin  itself 
there  be  any  solution  or  division,  which  is  seldom 
without  drawing  of  blood,  no  art  nor  good  disposi- 
tion of  nature  can  ever  bring  the  parts  together 
again,  and  restore  the  same  substance,  though  it 
seems  to  the  eye  to  have  soldered  itself.  It  will 
ever  seem  so  much  as  a  deforming  scar,  but  is  in 
truth  a  breach.  Outward  worship  is  this  ciiticula: 
and  integrity  of  faith  the  skin  itself.  And  if  the 
first  be  touched  with  anything  too  corrosive,  it  will 
quickly  pierce  the  other  ;  and  so  5chism  (which  is 
a  departure    from   obedience)   will  ,-juickly  riecome 


heresy  (which  is  a  wilful  de.lection  from  the  way  of 
faith),  which  is  not  yet,  so  long  as  the  main  skin  is 
inviolate.  — Donne,  1573-163 1. 

(1823,)  There  is  difference  betwixt  error,  schism, 
and  heresy.  Error  is  when  one  holds  a  wrong 
opinion  alone  ;  schism,  when  many  consent  in  their 
opinion  ;  heresy  runs  further,  and  contends  to  root 
out  the  truth.  Error  offends,  but  sejiarates  not  ; 
schism  offends  and  separates  ;  heresy  offends, 
separates,  and  rageth,  making  the  party  good  vi  et 
arniis,  if  not  with  arguments  of  reason,  yet  with 
arguments  of  steel  and  iron.  Error  is  weak,  schism 
strong,  heresy  obstinate.  Error  goes  out,  and  often 
comes  in  again  ;  schism  comes  not  in,  but  makes  a 
new  church  ;  heresy  makes  not  a  new  church,  but 
no  church.  Error  untiles  the  house,  schism  pulls 
down  the  walls,  but  heresy  overturns  the  foundatioa 
Error  is  as  a  child,  schism  a  wild  stripling,  heresy 
an  old  dotard.  Error  will  hear  reason,  schism  will 
wrangle  against  it,  heresy  will  defy  it.  Error  is  a 
member  blistered,  schism  a  member  festered,  heresy 
a  member  cut  off.  He  that  returns  quickly  from 
error,  is  not  a  schismatic  ;  he  that  returns  from 
schism,  is  not  a  heretic.  Error  is  reproved  and 
pitied,  schism  is  reproved  and  punished,  heresy  is 
reproved  and  excommunicated.  Schism  is  in  the 
same  faith,  heresy  makes  another  faith.  Though 
they  may  be  thus  distinguished,  yet  without  God's 
preventing  grace,  one  will  run  into  another  ;  error 
will  prove  a  schism,  and  schismatical  follies  will 
prove  stigmatical  furies.  — Adams,  1653. 

12.  How  It  is  to  be  distinguished  from  truth. 
(i8.'4.)  Reader,    try  the  spirits.     Error  is  often 

plausible,  and  the  most  ensnaring  errors  are  those 
which  are  an  obvious  resemblance  to  truth.  Even 
though  the  outside  coating  is  not  brass  but  real 
gold,  the  leaden  coin  is  none  the  less  a  counterfeit  ; 
and,  like  the  devil's  temptation,  wrapped  up  in 
a  Scripture  saying,  many  false  doctrines  come  now- 
a-days  with  a  sacred  or  spiritual  glamour  round 
them — quoting  texts  and  uttering  Bible  phrases. 
But  the  question  is  not,  Who  has  got  a  text  on  his 
side?  but.  Who  has  got  the  Bible? — not,  Who  can 
produce  certain  sentences  torn  from  their  connection, 
and  reft  of  the  purport  which  that  connection  gives 
them  ?  but,  looking  at  Scripture  in  its  integrity — 
having  regard  to  its  general  drift,  as  well  as  to  the 
bearing  of  these  special  passages — who  is  it  that 
makes  the  fairest  appeal  to  the  statute  book  of 
heaven?  — Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

13.  Is  not  to  be  tolerated. 

(1825.)  The  candour  which  regards  all  sentiments 
alike,  and  considers  no  errors  as  destructive,  is  no 
virtue.  It  is  the  offspring  of  ignorance,  of  insensi- 
bility, and  of  cold  indifference.  The  blind  do  not 
perceive  the  difference  of  colours.  The  dead  never 
dispute.  Ice,  as  it  congeals,  aggregates  all  bodies 
within  its  reach,  however  heterogeneous  their  quality. 
Every  virtue  has  certain  bounds,  and  when  it  ex- 
ceeds them  it  becomes  a  vice  ;  for  the  last  step  of  a 
virtue  and  the  first  step  of  a  vice  are  contiguous. 

14.  The  duty  of  r'lblic  teachers  in  regard  to  It. 
(1826.)     In   all   churches    there    are  men  whom 

moral  cowardice,  or  mistaken  conceptions  of  duty, 
hinder  from  taking  part  in  the  settlement  of  great 
questions  ;  and  who  gladly  leave  to  others  the 
responsibility  of  maintaining  the  truth.     They  are 


ERROR. 


(    319    ) 


EVIL  THOUGHTS. 


not  unfaithful  to  their  convictions,  but  they  are 
unfaithful  to  the  truth,  concerning  their  duty  to 
which  their  convictions  are  mistaken.  Nobly  ab- 
sorbed, perhaps,  in  spiritual  work — in  preaching, 
in  pastoral  duties,  in  various  efforts  to  save  men's 
souls — they  refuse  both  to  examine  their  own  eccle- 
siastical position  and  to  defend  the  theological  truths 
upon  which  the  spiritual  power  of  all  churclies  must 
depend.  They  fear,  perhaps,  lest  their  own  loosely 
formed  convictions  should  be  disturbed,  or  their 
practical  spiritual  work  be  hindered.  To  every 
Sanballat  who  ciiallenges  them,  they  reply,  "  We 
are  doing  a  great  work,  so  that  we  cannot  come 
down  ;"  the  wisest  of  all  replies,  so  long  as  the 
enemy  remains  b'^low  in  the  "plain  of  Ono  ;  "  but 
what  if  he  has  climbed  to  the  very  walls  of  the 
Holy  City  ?  What  if  he  assaults  the  builder  on  its 
scaffold, — what  if  he  is  tampering  with  its  watch- 
men, and  raising  an  insurrection  in  its  streets  ?  To 
refuse  to  fight  then  were  a  cowardly  inhdelity  to 
Christ,  which  even  the  most  pious  occupation  could 
not  justify.  It  is  as  if  the  harvest-man  were  to  per- 
sist in  the  ingathering  of  his  sheaves,  regardless  of 
the  enemy  who  had  landed  upon  his  coasts.  It 
may  be  a  duty  to  sacrifice  even  a  spiritual  harvest 
in  order  to  defend  the  territory  upon  which  all 
spiritual  harvests  are  to  be  produced. 

— Henry  A  lion. 

(1827.)  When  errors  are  public,  they  should  be 
pulilicly  met,  notwithstanding  that  by  so  meeting 
them  a  certain  extended  publicity  is  given  them. 
What  would  be  thought  of  a  physician  who,  at  a 
time  when  a  pestilence  was  raging  in  a  city,  should 
shut  himself  up  in  his  own  house,  on  the  plea  that 
by  coming  in  contact  with  the  smitten  and  the  sound 
alternately  he  might  spread  the  plague?  Would  he 
not  be  plainly  told,  that  it  was  his  duty  to  employ 
his  skill  in  mitigating  the  pain  of  the  sufferers,  even 
at  the  risk  of  becoming  inlecied  himself,  or  of  com- 
municating the  infection  to  otliers  ?  Would  he  not 
be  plainly  told,  that  it  would  be  wrong  in  him  to 
refrain  from  doing  the  certain  good  through  fear  of 
a  possible  evil  ? 

What  would  be  thought  of  him  further,  were  he 
to  say,  "I  will  not  trouble  myself;  the  normal  con- 
dition of  the  people  is  health  ;  if  I  let  it  alone,  the 
pestilence  will  in  due  time  die  out  of  itself"  ?  I 
think  men  would  call  him  a  driveller  and  a  fool,  and 
bid  him  bestir  himself  to  shorten  the  course  of  the 
pestilence,  and  to  endeavour  to  save  those  who  seemed 
likely  to  become  its  victim.  Even  so  I  hold  that  a 
moral  pestilence  being  widely  diiTused,  I  am  justified 
in  publicly  doing  what  1  can  to  arrest  it.  According 
to  my  judgment,  1  should  shamefully  fail  in  my 
duty,  were  I  to  sit  at  ease  in  my  study,  and  say 
nieiely,  "Truth  will  prevail ;  this  is  but  a  nine  days' 
wonder,  and  will  soon  be  forgotten."  Truth  will 
prevail,  but  what  of  those  who  are  giving  credence 
to  the  temporary  lie?  Should  nothing  be  done  to 
regain  them  to  the  truth  ? 

in  reasoning  as  in  war,  to  be  forewarned  is  to  be 
forearmed  ;  and  it  is  better  that  you  should  even  be 
made  acquainted  with  these  errors  by  me,  than  that 
you  should  learn  tiieni  from  some  enemy  of  the  truth. 
1  hope  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  say,  that  morally 
men  are  very  like  children  mentally.  You  know 
that  you  need  only  put  on  a  mask,  however  clumsy, 
and  present  yourself  suddenly  to  your  children,  in 
order  to  frighten  them.  And  you  know,  too,  that 
it  would  be  quite  in  vain  for  you  to  put  on  the  mask, 


if  you  had  previously  shown  it  to  them,  and  per- 
mitted them  to  handle  it  beforehand.  So.  too, 
when  an  errorist  suddenly  presents  himself  with  his 
fallacies  before  the  people,  they  are  frightened  out 
of  their  wits  ;  it  is  all  over,  they  think,  with  our 
preconceived  ideas  ;  their  fathers  were  fools,  and 
now  they  are  going  to  be  made  wiser  than  them 
all.  But  if  his  fallacies  have  been  explained  to 
them  beforehand,  if  they  have  been  shown  the  other 
side  of  the  mask,  when  the  errorist  appears  before 
them  he  is  greeted  with  deserved  derision. 

— R.  A.  Bertram, 

15.  Ultimately  advances  the  truth. 

(1828.)  God  suffers  desperate  opinions  to  be 
vented  for  the  purging  of  His  own  truth.  The 
truth  of  God  is  conipared  to  silver.  "The  words 
of  the  Lord  are  pure,  yea,  as  silver  tried  in  a  furnace 
of  earth,  purified  seven  limes."  Every  corrupt 
opinion  that  comes  to  be  vented  against  any  truth 
of  God  is  a  new  furnace  ;  and  the  truth  being  cast 
into  that  fuinace,  it  comes  out  the  purer  for  it. 
"Purified  seven  times." 

As  it  is  with  [lassengers  of  quality  and  note,  were 
it  not  for  some  evil  inveterate  curs  in  the  street,  they 
might  pass,  and  never  be  observed  ;  the  very  bark- 
ing of  the  dogs  makes  them  to  be  noted. 

— Arrawsmithy  l602-l659ik 


EVIL  THOUGHTS. 

1.  Their  sinfulness. 

(1829.)  Some  please  themselves  in  the  thoughts 
of  sinful  sports,  or  cheats,  or  unclean  acts,  and  sit 
brooding  on  such  cockatrice-eggs  with  great  delight. 
It  is  their  meat  and  drink  to  roll  these  sugar-plums 
under  their  tongues.  Though  they  cannot  sin  out- 
wardly, for  want  of  strength  of  body  or  a  fit  oppor- 
tunity, yet  they  act  sin  inwardly  vvith  great  love  and 
complacency.  As  players  in  a  comedy,  they  act  their 
parts  in  private,  in  order  to  a  more  exact  perform- 
ance of  them  in  public.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(1830.)  A  malicious  thought  and  a  malicious 
deed  are  from  the  same  spring,  and  have  the  same 
nature  ;  only  the  deed  is  the  riper  serpent,  and  can 
sting  another  ;  when  the  thought  is  as  the  younge 
serpent,  that  hath  only  the  venomous  nature  in 
itself.  A  lustful  thought  is  from  the  same  defilerl 
puddle,  as  actual  filthiness  :  and  the  thought  is  bm 
the  pas.sage  to  the  action  :  it  is  but  the  same  sin  in 
its  minority,  tending  to  maturity. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(183 1.)  By  sinful  thoughts  our  formerly  com- 
mitted sms  that  were  dead  are  revived  again,  and 
have  a  resurrection  by  our  bosom  ones ;  by  our  con- 
templating the  same  with  delight.  As  the  witch 
of  Endor  called  up  Samuel  that  was  dead  ;  so  a 
delightful  thought  calls  up  a  sinful  action  that  was 
dead  before.  Hereby  our  sins,  that  were  in  a 
manner  dead  before,  are  revived,  and  have  a  resur- 
rection. — Ralph  Erskine,  1685-1712. 

2.  Usually  Indicate  character. 

(1832.)  Our  thoughts  are  like  the  blossoms  on  • 
tree  in  the  spring.  You  may  see  a  tree  in  the 
spring  all  covered  with  blossoms,  so  that  nothing 
else  of  it  appears.  Multitudes  of  them  fall  off  and 
come  to  nothing.      Ofttimes  w.here  there  are  most 


EVIL  THOUGHTS. 


(    320    ) 


EVIL  THOUGHTS. 


blossoms  there  is  least  fruit.  But  yet  there  is  no 
fruit,  be  it  of  what  sort  it  will,  good  or  bad,  but  it 
comes  in  and  from  some  of  those  blossoms.  The 
mi/id  of  man  is  covered  with  thoughts,  as  a  tree  with 
blossoms.  Most  of  them  fall  off,  vanish,  and  come 
to  nothing,  end  in  vanity  ;  and  sometimes  where 
the  mind  does  most  abound  with  them  there  is  the 
least  fruit,  the  sap  of  the  mind  is  wasted  and  con- 
sumed in  them.  Howbeit  there  is  no  fruit  which 
actually  we  bring  forth,  be  it  good  or  bad,  but  it 
proceeds  from  some  of  these  thoughts.  Wherefore, 
ordinarily,  these  give  the  best  and  surest  measure  of 
the  frame  of  men's  minds.  "As  a  man  thinks  in 
his  heart  so  is  he."  In  case  of  strong  and  violent 
temptations,  the  real  frame  of  a  man's  heart  is  not 
to  be  judged  by  the  multiplicity  of  thouglits  about 
any  object,  for  whether  they  are  from  Satan's  sug- 
gestions, or  from  inward  darkness,  trouble,  and 
horror,  they  will  impose  such  a  continual  sense  of 
themselves  on  the  mind  as  shall  engage  all  its 
thoughts  about  them  ;  as  when  a  man  is  in  a  storm 
at  sea,  the  current  of  his  thoughts  run  quite  another 
way  than  when  he  is  in  safety  about  his  occasions. 
But  ordinarily  voluntary  thoughts  are  the  best 
measure  and  indication  of  the  frame  of  our  minds. 
As  the  nature  of  the  soil  is  judged  by  the  grass 
which  it  brings  forth,  so  may  the  disposition  of  the 
heart  by  the  predominancy  of  voluntary  thoughts  ; 
they  are  the  original  acting  of  the  soul,  the  way 
whereby  the  heart  puts  forth  and  empties  the  treas- 
ure that  is  in  it,  the  waters  that  first  rise  arid  flow 
from  that  fountain.  — Owen,  1616-1683. 

8.  But  often  are  Interjected  by  Satan. 

(1833.)  Some  thoughts  be  the  darts  of  Satan  ; 
and  these  ncm  nocent,  si  non  placent.  We  cannot 
keep  thieves  from  looking  in  at  our  windows,  but 
we  need  not  give  them  entertainment  with  open 
doors.  "  Wash  thy  heart  from  iniquity,  that  thou 
mayest  be  saved  :  how  long  shall  thy  vain  thoughts 
lodge  within  thee  ?  "  They  may  be  passengers,  but 
they  must  not  be  sojourners.         — A  Jams,  1653. 

{1834.)  Satan  slily  conveys  evil  thoughts,  and 
then  makes  a  Christian  believe  they  come  from  his 
own  heart.  The  cup  was  found  in  Benjamin's  sack, 
but  it  was  of  Joseph's  putting  in  ;  so  a  ciiild  of  God 
oft  finds  atheistical,  blasphemous  thoughts  in  his 
mind,  but  Satan  hath  cast  them  in. 

—  IVatsan,  1696. 

t.  Are  not  as  f  ullty  as  evil  actions. 

(1835.)  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  say  that  sin  in  the 
heart  is  the  very  snme  as  sin  thrown  into  a  deliberate 
and  daring  act.  They  are  in  tlie  same  line  as  our 
Lord  has  tauglit  us,  but  the  external  act  gives  evil  a 
power  which  it  had  not  before,  and  which  may 
prove  fatally  destructive.  It  is  like  a  combustible 
material,  which,  if  once  exploded,  may  leave  the 
man's  nature  a  shattered  and  hopeless  wreck.  To 
repress  sin  from  the  actual  life  is  something, — only 
let  it  not  stop  there,  else  it  is  a  constant  deception 
and  danger.  — A'cv-. 

6.  Yet  they  are  most  powefful  and  disastrous 
In  their  influence. 

(1836.)  Indifferent  looking,  equal  and  easy  con- 
versation, appliableness  to  wanton  discourses,  and 
notions,  and  motions,  are  the  devil's  single  money, 
and  many  pieces  of  these  make  up  an  adultery.  As 
light  a  thing  as  a  spangle  is,  a  spangle  is  silver  ; 


and  leaf-gold,  that  is  blown  away,  is  gold ;  and 
sand  that  has  no  strength,  no  coherence,  yet  knits 
the  building.  So  do  approaches  to  sin  become  sin, 
and  fixed  sin.  — Donne,  1573-1631. 

(1837.)  Set  thy  thoughts,  examine  thy  thoughts  : 
thy  conscience  must  not  only  extend  to  deeds  and 
words,  but  even  to  secret  thoughts.  They  that  ari 
accustomed  to  evil  thoughts  can  seldom  bring  forth 
good  words,  never  good  deeds.  As  the  corn  is,  so 
will  the  flour  be  :  if  the  meal  be  bad,  the  fault  is 
not  in  the  millstones  that  ground  it,  but  in  the 
miller  that  put  in  such  base  corn.  All  thy  senses 
and  members  are  but  the  millstones  ;  the  heart  is 
the  miller:  if  thy  words  and  works  be  ill  meal, 
thank  the  miller,  thy  heart,  for  such  corrupt  thoughts. 
As  the  wood  is,  so  will  the  fire  be  :  if  it  be  wet  and 
stinking  wood,  look  for  an  unsavoury  and  unwhole- 
some fire  :  if  the  wood  be  sweet  and  dry,  it  will 
perfume  the  room  with  a  svveet  and  pleasant  air. 
S'.ich  fuel  as  you  lay  on  your  thoughts  ;  such  fire 
shall  you  have  in  your  actions.  ■    — Adams,  1653. 

(1838.)  My  works  will  be  answerable  to  my 
thoughts  ;  if  my  thoughts  be  wicked  or  fruitless,  so 
will  my  actions  be.  My  thoughts  are  the  seed  that 
lies  in  the  ground  out  of  sight  ;  my  works  are  the 
crop  which  is  visible  to  others;  according  to  the 
seed,  whether  good  or  bad,  such  will  the  crop  be. 
If  men  are  so  careful  to  get  the  purest,  the  cleanest, 
and  the  best  seed  for  their  fields,  that  their  harvest 
may  be  the  more  to  their  advantage  ;  how  much  it 
concerns  me  that  my  heart  be  sown  with  pure  and 
holy  thoughts,  that  my  crop  may  tend  both  to  my 
credit  and  comfort !  Lord,  there  is  no  good  seed 
but  what  comes  out  of  Thy  garner.  I  confess,  the 
piercing  thorns  of  vicious  thoughts,  and  the  fruit- 
less weeds  of  vain  thoughts,  are  all  the  natural  pro- 
duce of  my  heart.  Oh,  let  Tliy  good  Spirit  plough  up 
the  fallow  ground  of  my  soul,  and  scatter  in  it  such 
seeds  of  grace  and  holiness,  that  my  life  may  be 
answerable  to  Thy  Gospel,  and  at  my  death  I  may 
be  translated  to  Thy  glory  !      — Swinnock,  1673. 

(1839.)  Our  heart  is  of  that  colour  which  our 
most  constant  thoughts  dye  it  into.  Transient 
fleeting  thoughts,  whether  of  one  kind  or  another, 
do  not  alter  the  temper  of  the  soul.  Neither  poison 
kills  nor  food  nourishes,  unless  they  stay  in  the  body; 
nor  does  good  or  evil  benefit  or  harm  the  mind, 
unless  they  abide  in  it. 

— Gumall,  161 7-1669. 

(1840.)  As  the  thoughts  are,  the  soul  is.  The 
cask,  long  after  it  has  been  emptied,  still  retains 
the  scent  of  the  liquor  with  which  it  was  formerly 
filled  ;  and  in  the  same  way  do  the  thoughts  leave 
behind  them  the  trace  of  their  nature  and  quality  in 
the  heart.  And  as  wine  is  never  put  into  a  foul  or 
fetid  cask,  so  never  does  God  pour  His  grace  into 
the  heart  which  is  voluntarily  defiled  with  evil 
thoughts.  The  thoughts  are  the  soul's  pinions, 
with  which  it  wings  its  way  either  to  heaven  or  to 
hell.  With  these  it  may  eitlier,  like  Noah's  dove, 
light  upon  an  olive  tree,  and  pluck  from  it  a  twig  ; 
or,  like  the  raven,  settle  upon  a  carcase  and  defile 
itself.  — Scriver,  i629--i693. 

(1841.)  Any  one  who  has  visited  limestone  cavea 
has  noticed  the  stalactite  pillars,  sometimes  large 
and  massive,  by  which  they  were  adorned  .  anid 
supported.     They  are  nature's  masonry  of  solid  rock, 


EVIL  THOUGHTS. 


(    321     ) 


EVIL  THOUGHTS. 


formed  by  her  own  slow,  silent,  but  mysterious  pro- 
cess. The  little  drop  of  water  percolates  through 
iiiC  roof  of  the  cave,  and  deposits  its  sediment,  and 
another  follows  it,  till  the  icicle  of  stone  is  formed  ; 
and  finally  reaching  to  the  rock  beneath,  it  becomes 
a  solid  pillar,  a  marble  monument,  which  can  only 
be  rent  down  by  the  most  powerful  forces. 

But  is  there  not  going  forward  oftentimes  in  the 
caverns  of  the  human  heart  a  process  as  silent  and 
eflective,  yet  infinitely  more  momentous?  There 
in  the  darkness  tliat  shrouds  all  from  the  view  of 
the  outward  observer,  eacii  thought  and  feeling,  as 
light  and  inconsiderable  perhaps  as  the  little  drop 
of  water,  sinks  downward  into  the  soul,  and  de- 
posits— yet  in  a  form  almost  imperceptible — what 
we  may  call  its  sediment.  And  then  another  and 
another  follows  till  the  traces  of  all  combined  be- 
come more  manifest,  and  at  length,  if  these  thoughts 
and  feelings  are  charged  with  the  sediment  of  world- 
liness  and  worldly  passion,  they  have  reared  within 
the  spirit  permanent  and  perhaps  everlasting  monu- 
ments of  their  effects.  All  around  the  walls  of  this 
spiritual  cave  stand  in  massive  proportions  the  pillars 
of  sinful  inclinations  and  the  props  of  iniquity,  and 
only  a  convulsion  like  that  which  rends  the  solid 
globe  can  rend  them  from  their  place  and  shake 
their  hold. 

Thus  stealthily  is  the  work  done  ;  mera  fancies 
and  desires,  and  lusts  unsuspiciously  entertained, 
contribute  silently  but  surely  to  the  result.  The 
heart  is  changed  into  an  impregnable  fortress  of  sin. 
The  roof  of  its  iniquity  is  sustained  by  marble 
pillars,  and  all  the  weight  of  reason  and  conscience 
and  the  Divine  threateuings  are  powerless  to  lay  it 
»ow  in  the  dust  of  humility. 

Such  is  the  power  of  those  light  fancies  and 
rmaginations  and  desires  which  enter  the  soul  un- 
observed, and  are  slighted  for  their  insignificance. 
They  attract  no  notice.  They  utter  no  note  of 
alarm.  \Ve  might  suppose  that  if  left  to  themselves 
they  would  be  absorbed  in  oblivion,  and  leave  no 
trace  behind.  But  they  form  the  pillars  of  character. 
They  sustain  the  soul  under  the  pressure  of  all 
those  solemn  appeals  to  which  it  ought  to  yield. 

How  impressive,  then,  the  admonition,  "Keep 
thy  heart  with  all  diligence  !"  Things  vvliich  seem 
powerless  and  harmless  may  prove  noxious  beyond 
expression.  The  power  of  inveterate  sin  is  from  the 
silent  flow  of  thought.  Your  habitual  desires  or 
fancies  are  shaping  your  eternal  destiny. 

— American  National  Prtacher. 

(1842.)  Beware  of  evil  in  the  buddings  of  desire  ! 
Wiioever  allow  themselves  to  indulge  in  evil  imagi- 
nations or  thoughts,  are  preparing  themselves  to 
commit  the  crimes  they  fancy.  Desires  are  the 
seed  of  deeds.  Working  in  the  dark,  and  all  the 
more  dangerous  that  their  progress,  like  a  miner's, 
is  silent  and  unseen,  they  sap  the  wails  of  virtue  ; 
and  thus  the  man  of  God  is  overthrown  by  tempta- 
tions that  otherwise  had  broken  on  him,  as  breaks 
the  mountain  billow  on  a  front  of  rock.  May  not 
the  bad  thoughts  and  fancies,  that  do  their  work 
secretly  and  unsuspected  within  the  recesses  of  the 
heart,  account  for  those  sudden  falls  and  sins  on  the 
part  of  such  good  men  as  David,  that  neither  they 
nor  others  would  have  ever  dreamt  of?  The  mis- 
chief is  due  less  to  the  temptation  than  to  what  pre- 
ceded it — and  prepared  for  it. 

You  are  walking,  for  example,  through  a  forest. 
Across  your  path  and  on  the  grouad  lies,  stretched 


out  in  death,  a  mighty  tree,  tall  and  strong — fit 
mass  to  carry  a  cloud  of  canvas  and  bear  unbent 
the  strain  of  tempests.  You  put  your  foot  lightly 
upon  it  ;  and  liow  great  your  surprise  when, 
breaking  through  the  bark,  it  sinks  deep  into  the 
body  of  the  tree — a  result  much  less  owing  to  the 
pressure  of  your  foot,  than  to  the  poisonous  fungi 
and  foul  crawling  insects  that  had  attacked  its 
core.  They  have  left  the  outer  rind  uninjured — 
but  hollowed  out  its  heart.  Take  care  your  heart 
is  not  hollowed  out ;  and  nothing  left  you  but  the 
crust  and  shell  of  an  empty  profession. 

—Guthrie. 
6.  How  they  are  to  be  dealt  witli. 

(1843.)  The  best  Christian's  heart  here  is  like 
Solomon's  ships,  which  brought  home,  not  only 
gold  and  silver,  but  also  apes  and  peacocks  ;  it  has 
not  only  spiritual  and  heavenly,  but  also  vain  and 
foolish  thoughts.  But  these  latter  are  there  as  a 
disease  or  poison  in  the  body,  the  object  of  his  grief 
and  abhorrence,  not  of  his  love  and  complacency. 

Though  we  cannot  keep  vain  thoughts  from 
knocking  at  the  door  of  our  hearts,  nor  from  enter- 
ing in  sometimes,  yet  we  may  forbear  bidding  tliem 
welcome,  or  giving  them  entertainment.  "How 
long  shall  vain  thoughts  lodge  within  thee  ?  "  It  is 
bad  to  let  them  sit  down  with  us,  though  but  for  an 
hour,  but  it  is  worse  to  let  them  lie  or  lodge  with 
us.  It  is  better  to  receive  the  greatest  thieves  into 
our  houses  than  vain  thoughts  into  our  hearts.  John 
Huss,  seeking  to  reclaim  a  very  profane  wretch,  was 
told  by  him,  that  his  giving  way  to  wicked,  wanton 
thoughts  was  the  original  of  all  those  hideous  births 
of  impiety  which  he  was  guilty  of  in  his  life. 
Huss  answered  him,  that  though  he  could  not  keep 
evil  thoughts  from  courting  him,  yet  he  might  keep 
them  from  marrying  him  ;  "as,"  says  he,  "though 
1  cannot  keep  the  birds  from  flying  over  my  head, 
yet  1  can  keep  them  from  building  their  nests  in  my 
hair."  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(1844.)  Check  them  at  the  first  appearance.  If 
they  bear  upon  them  a  palpable  mark  of  sin,  bestow 
not  upon  them  the  honour  of  an  examination.  If 
the  leprosy  appear  in  their  foreheads,  thrust  them,  as 
the  priests  did  Uzziah,  out  of  the  temple ;  or  as 
David  answered  his  wicked  solicitors,  "  Depart 
from  me,  ye  evil  doers  :  for  I  will  keep  the  com- 
mandments of  my  God."  Though  we  cannot  hin- 
der them  from  haunting  us,  yet  we  may  from  lodg- 
ing in  us.  The  very  sparkling  of  an  abominable 
motion  in  our  hearts  is  as  little  to  be  looked  upon 
as  the  colour  of  wine  in  a  glass  by  a  man  inclined 
to  drunkenness.  Quench  them  instantly,  as  you 
would  do  a  spark  of  fire  ic  a  heap  of  straw.  We 
must  not  treat  with  them.  Paul's  resolve  is  a  good 
pattern,  not  to  confer  with  fle^h  and  blood.  We 
do  not  debate  whether  we  should  shake  a  viper  off 
our  hands.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(1845,)  Use  not  your  thoughts  to  take  their 
liberty  and  be  ungoverned  :  for  use  will  make  them 
headstrong  and  not  regard  the  voice  of  reason  ; 
and  it  will  make  reason  careless  and  remiss.  Use 
and  custom  have  great  power  on  our  minds  :  where 
we  use  to  go,  our  path  is  plain  :  but  where  there  is 
no  use,  liiere  is  no  way.  Where  the  water  useth 
to  run  there  is  a  channel.     — Baxter,  16 15-1 691. 

(1S46.)  Cast  out  vain  and  sinful  thoughts  in  the 
i  beginning,  before  they  settle  themselves  and  make 

X 


EVIL  THOUGHTS, 


(    32a    ) 


EXAMPLE. 


ft  dwelling  of  thy  heart.  They  are  more  easily 
and  safely  resisted  in  the  entrance.  Thy  heart  will 
give  them  rooting  and  grow  familiar  with  them, 
if  they  make  any  stay.  Besides,  it  shows  the 
greater  sin,  because  there  is  the  less  resistance, 
and  the  more  consent.  If  the  will  were  against 
them,  it  would  not  let  them  alone  so  long.  Yea, 
and  their  continuance  tendeth  to  your  ruin  :  it  is 
like  the  continuance  of  poison  in  your  bowels,  or 
fire  in  your  thatch,  or  a  spy  in  an  army  :  as  long  as 
they  stay  they  are  working  toward  your  greater 
mischief.  If  these  flies  stay  long  they  will  grow  and 
.nultiply  :  they  will  make  their  nests,  and  breed 
.heir  young,  and  you  will  quickly  have  a  swarm  of 
iins.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1847.)  With  all  possible  might  and  speed  oppose 
the  very  first  risings  and  movings  of  the  heart  to 
sin  ;  for  these  are  the  buds  that  produce  the  bitter 
fruit  :  and  if  sin  be  not  nipped  in  the  very  bud,  it  is 
not  imaginable  how  quickly  it  will  shoot  forth. 
There  be  sudden  sallies  out  of  inherent  corruption 
in  these  first  motions  which,  though  at  first  they 
are  not  so  easily  prevented,  yet  may  be  easily  sup- 
pressed ;  and  these  may  be  working  in  the  heart, 
when  there  is  no  noise  of  any  outward  enormity 
in  the  actions.  The  fire  may  burn  strongly  and 
vehemently,  though  it  does  not  flame.  The  bees 
may  be  at  work,  and  very  busy  within,  though  we 
see  none  of  them  fly  abroad. 

Now  these  sins,  though  they  may  seem  small 
in  themselves,  yet  are  exceedingly  pernicious  in 
their  effects.  These  little  foxes  destroy  the  grapes 
as  much  or  more  than  the  greater,  and  therefore  are 
to  be  diligently  sought  out,  hunted,  and  killed  by 
us,  if  we  would  keep  our  hearts  fruitful.  We 
should  deal  with  these  first  streamings  out  of  sin, 
as  the  Psalmist  would  have  the  people  of  God  deal 
with  the  brats  of  Babylon  ;  "  Happy  shall  he  be  who 
taketh  and  dasheth  those  little  ones  against  the 
stones."  And  without  doubt  most  happy  and  suc- 
cessful will  that  man  prove  in  his  spiritual  wel- 
fare, who  puts  on  no  bowels  of  pity  even  to  his 
infant  corruptions,  but  slays  the  small  as  well  as 
the  great  ;  and  so  not  only  conquers  his  enemies  by 
opposing  their  present  lorce,  but  also  by  extin- 
guishing their  future  race.  The  smallest  children, 
if  they  live,  will  be  grown  men  ;  and  the  first 
notions  of  sin,  if  they  are  let  alone,  vvill  spread  into 
great,  open,  and  audacious  presumptions. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 16. 

T.  Their  cure. 

(1848.)  It  is  the  part  of  a  skilful  surgeon  or  physi- 
cian, not  only  to  take  away  any  appearing  ulcer,  or 
to  cool  the  heat  of  a  burning  fever  with  outward 
applications,  but  to  look  into  the  inward  causes  and 
malignity  of  the  disease,  and  so  to  order  the  matter, 
that  the  cause  being  taken  away  the  effect  may 
necessarily  follow.  Now,  it  is  well  known  that  the 
seed  of  all  sins,  and  the  well-spring  of  all  wicked- 
ness, ariseth  from  the  heart  of  man.  The  heart  is, 
therefore,  to  be  washed,  as  from  all  wickedness,  so 
from  all  wicked  tlioughts,  they  being  the  source  and 
originals  of  all  unrighteousness. 

— Maverick,  1 61 7. 

(1849.)  There  is  nothing  so  unaccountable  as  the 
multiplicity  of  thoughts  in  the  minds  of  men.  They 
All)  from  them  like  tiie  leaves  of  trees  when  they  are 
shaken  with  the  wind  in  autumn.  To  have  all  these 
thoughts,  all  the  several   fragments  of  the  heart,  all 


the  conceptions  that  are  framed  and  agitated  in  tha 
mind,  to  be  evil,  and  that  continually,  what  a  heJ 
of  horror  and  confusion  must  it  needs  be  !  A  d©" 
liverance  from  this  loathsome,  hateful  state  is  more 
to  be  valued  than  the  whole  world.  Williout  it 
neither  life,  nor  peace,  nor  immortality,  nor  glory, 
can  ever  be  attained.  The  design  of  conviction  is  to 
put  a  stop  to  these  thoughts,  to  take  off  from  theij 
number,  and  thereby  to  lessen  their  guilt.  It  de- 
serves not  the  name  of  conviction  of  sin  which 
respects  only  outward  actions  and  regards  not  the 
inward  actions  of  the  mind  ;  and  this  alone  will  for 
a  season  make  a  great  change  in  the  thoughts, 
especially  it  will  do  so  when  assisted  by  superstition, 
directing  them  unto  other  objects.  These  two  in 
conjunction  are  the  rise  of  all  that  devotional  religion 
which  is  in  the  papacy.  Conviction  labours  to  put 
some  stop  and  bounds  to  thoughts  absolutely  evil 
and  corrupt,  and  superstition  suggests  other  objects 
for  them,  which  they  readily  embrace;  but  it  is  a 
vain  attempt.  The  minds  and  hearts  of  men  are 
continually  minting  and  coining  new  thoughts  and 
imaginations ;  the  cogitative  faculty  is  always  at 
work.  As  the  streams  of  a  mighty  river  running 
into  the  ocean,  so  are  the  thoughts  of  a  natural  man, 
and  through  self  they  run  into  hell.  It  is  a  fond 
thing  to  set  a  dam  before  such  a  river  to  curb  its 
streams.  For  a  little  space  there  may  be  a  stop 
made,  but  it  will  quickly  break  down  all  obstacle;;, 
or  overflow  all  its  bounds.  There  is  no  way  to 
divert  its  course,  but  only  by  providing  other  chan- 
nels for  its  wateis,  and  turning  them  thereinto. 
The  mighty  stream  of  the  evil  thoughts  of  men  will 
admit  of  no  bounds  or  dams  to  put  a  stop  unto  them. 
There  are  but  two  ways  of  relief  from  them,  the  one 
respecting  their  moral  evil,  the  other  their  natural 
abundance.  The  first  is  by  throvving  salt  into  the 
spring,  as  Elisha  cured  the  waters  of  Jericho, — that 
is,  to  get  the  heart  and  mind  seasoned  with  grace ; 
for  the  tree  must  be  made  good  before  the  fruit  will 
be  so.  The  other  is,  to  turn  their  streams  into  new 
channels,  putting  new  aims  and  ends  upon  them, 
fixing  them  on  new  objects  :  so  shall  we  abound  in 
spiritual  thoughts;  for  abound  in  thoughts  we  shall, 
whether  we  will  or  no.  — Owen,  1616-1683, 


EXAMPLE. 

1.  Is  better  than  precept. 

(1850.)  Though  "the  words  of  the  wise  be  as 
nails  fastened  by  the  masters  of  the  assemblies,"  yet 
their  examples  are  the  hammer  to  drive  them  in,  to 
take  the  deeper  hold.  A  fatlier  that  whipped  his  son 
for  swearing,  and  swore  himself  whilst  he  whipped 
him,  did  more  harm  by  his  example  than  good  by 
his  correction.  — Fuller,  i6o8-i66l. 

(1851.)  Examples  do  more  compendiously,  easily, 
and  pleasantly  inform  our  minds,  and  direct  oui 
practice,  than  precepts,  or  any  other  way  or  instru- 
ment of  discipline.  Precepts  are  delivered  in  a 
universal  and  abstracted  manner,  naked  and  void 
of  all  circumstantial  attire,  without  ar.y  intervention, 
assistance,  or  suffrage  of  sense  ;  and,  consequently, 
can  have  no  vehement  operation  upon  the  fancy, 
and  soon  do  fly  the  memory  :  like  flashes  of  light- 
ning, too  subtle  to  make  any  great  impression,  or  to 
leave  any  remarkable  footsteps  upon  what  ihcy 
1  encounter  ;  they  mast  be  expressed  in  nice  terms. 


EXAMPLE. 


\    323     ) 


EXAMPLE. 


and  digested  in  exact  method ;  they  are  various,  and 
in  many  dis;ointed  pieces  conspire  to  make  up  an 
entire  body  of  direction  :  they  do  also  admit  of 
divers  cases,  and  require  many  exceptions  or  re- 
strictions, wliich,  to  apprehend  distinctly,  and  retain 
long  in  memory,  neeils  a  tedious  labour,  and  con- 
tinual attention  of  mind,  together  with  a  piercing 
and  steady  judgment.  But  good  exanijile  with  less 
trouble,  more  S]ieed,  and  greater  efficacy,  cause  us 
to  comprehend  the  business,  representing  it  like  a 
picture  exposed  to  sense,  having  the  parts  orderly 
disposed  and  completely  united,  suitably  clotijed 
and  dressed  up  in  its  circumstances  ;  containeoVin 
a  narrow  com])ass  and  perceptible  by  one  glance, 
so  easily  insinuating  itself  into  the  fancy,  and 
durably  resting  llierein. 

— Barrow,  1630-16  77. 

(1852.)  PrecTipts  instruct  us  what  things  are  our 
duty,  but  exanijjles  assure  us  that  they  are  possible. 
They  resemble  a  clear  stream  wherein  we  may  not 
only  discover  our  spots,  but  wash  them  oft.  When 
we  see  men  like  ourselves,  who  are  united  to  frail 
flesh  and  in  the  same  condition  with  us,  to  command 
their  passions,  to  overcome  the  most  glorious  and 
glittering  temptations,  we  are  encouraged  in  our 
sj>uitual  warfare.  — Bates,   1625-1699. 

{1853.)  Ill  patterns  are  sure  to  be  followed  more 
than  good  rules.  — Locke,  1632-1704. 

S.  Its  power  for  good. 

(i'?54.)  Nothing  awakens  our  sleeping  virtues 
like  the  noble  acts  of  our  predecessors,  'i'hey  are 
flaming  beacons,  that  fame  and  time  have  set  on 
rills,  to  call  us  to  a  defence  of  virtue,  whensoever 
vice  invades  the  commonwealth  of  man. 

— Feltham,  1568. 

(1855  )  It  is  Plutarch's  observation  concerning 
Csesar's  soldiers,  that  they  who  in  service  under 
other  commanders  did  not  exceed  the  ordinary  rate 
of  couiage,  nor  excel  their  fellows,  did  yet,  when 
he  led  Ihem,  become  irresistibly  valiant,  being  ani- 
mated and  inspired  by  his  unjiaralleled  gallantry  : 
and  who  is  there  indeed  so  incurably  heartless,  so 
desperately  sluggish,  whom  the  sight  of  a  valiant 
leader  marching  before  into  the  mouth  of  danger, 
will  not  infuse  fire  and  vigour  into,  and  instigate 
forward  into  a  participation  of  brave  adventure? 
So  example  doth  by  a  kind  of  contagion  insinuate 
courage,  or  inveigle  men  ther.einto  ;  beside  that 
it  is  a  kind  of  daring,  and  proclaimeth  him  a  das- 
tard that  will  not  imitate  it  ;  which  imputation 
the  lowest  courage  of  man  can  hardly  digest,  and 
will  therefore  by  doing  somewhat  answerable  strive 
to  decline.  — Barrow,  1630-1677. 

(1856.)  A  wanderer  had  to  go  a  long  and  danger- 
ous journey  over  a  ruggetl  and  rocky  mountain,  and 
knew  not  the  way.  lie  asked  a  traveller  for  infor- 
mation, of  whom  he  heard  that  he  had  come  this 
same  path.  'J'lie  traveller  pointed  out  the  road 
to  him  clearly  and  distinctly,  together  with  all  the 
by-ways  and  precipices  of  whicii  he  must  beware, 
and  the  rorki  which  he  should  climb  ;  moreover  he 
gave  him  a  leaf  of  pa|ier,  on  which  all  these  things 
were  described  skilfully  and  exactly. 

The  wanderer  observed  all  this  attentively,  and 
at  each  turn  and  by-path  he  considered  carefully 
the  instructions  and  description  of  his  friend.  Vigor- 
ously he  proceeded  ;  but  the  more  he  advanced,  the 


steeper  the  rocks  appeared,  and  the  way  seemed  to 
lose  itself  in  the  lonely  dreary  ravines. 

Then  Ins  courage  failed  him  ;  anxiously  he  looked 
up  to  the  towering  gray  rocks,  and  cried:  "It  is 
impossible  for  man  to  ascend  so  steep  a  path,  and  to 
climb  these  rugged  rocks.  The  wings  of  eagles  and 
the  feet  of  the  mountain-goat  alone  can  do  it." 

lie  turned  away  thinking  to  return  by  the  way  he 
had  come,  when  suddenly  he  heard  a  voice  exclaim- 
ing :  "Take  courage,  and  follow  me  !"  He  looked 
round,  and  to  his  joyful  surprise  he  beheld  the  man 
who  had  pointed  out  the  way  to  him.  He  saw  him 
walk  calmly  and  steadily  between  the  ravines  and 
precipices  and  the  rushing  mountain  torrents.  This 
inspired  him  with  new  confidence,  and  he  followed 
vigorously.  Before  nightfall  they  had  ascended  the 
mountain,  and  a  lovely  valley,  where  blossomed 
myrtle  and  pomegranate  trees,  received  them  at  the 
end  of  their  pilgrimage. 

Then  the  cheerful  wanderer  thanked  his  friend, 
and  said  :  "  How  can  I  express  my  gratitude  to  thee? 
Tliou  hast  not  only  guided  me  on  tiie  right  way,  but 
hast  also  given  me  strength  and  courage  to  perse- 
vere." 

The  other  answered:  "Not  so;  am  I  not  a 
wanderer  like  thyself,  and  art  thou  not  the  same 
man  as  before?  Thou  hast  only  seen  by  my  example 
what  thou  art,  and  what  thou  art  able  to  do." 

— Kru  lit  III  acker, 

(1857.)  An  eminent  Christian  is  a  North  Foreland 
Lighthouse,  seen  far  and  wide,  and  doing  good  to 
myriads  whom  he  never  knows.  — A'yie. 

(1858.)  The  moral  influence  of  a  holy  life  cannot 
be  lost.  Like  the  seed  which  the  wind  wafts  into 
hidden  glades  and  forest  depths,  where  no  sower's 
hand  could  reach  to  scatter  it,  the  subtle  germ  of 
Christ's  truth  will  be  borne  on  the  secret  atmosphere 
of  a  holy  life,  into  hearts  which  no  preacher's  voice 
could  ]3enetrate.  When  the  tongue  of  men  and  angels 
would  fail,  there  is  an  eloquence  in  living  goodness 
which  will  often  prove  persuasive.  For  it  is  an  in- 
offensive, unpretending,  unobtrusive  eloquence  ;  it 
is  the  eloquence  of  the  soft  sunshine  when  it  expands 
the  close-shut  leaves  and  blossoms — a  rude  hand 
would  but  tear  and  crush  them  ;  it  is  the  eloquence 
of  the  summer  heat  when  it  basks  upon  the  thick- 
ribbed  ice — blows  would  but  break  it  ;  but  beneath 
that  softest,  gentlest,  yet  most  potent  influence,  tht 
hard  impenetrable  masses  melt  away.       — Caird. 

(1859.)  The  truth  is,  that  no  man  or  woman, 
however  poor  their  circumstances  or  mean  their  lot, 
are  without  their  influence  ;  like  an  electric  spark, 
passing  from  link  to  link,  that  runs  Hashing  down 
the  chain  of  successive  generations.  Imleed,  a  man's 
life  is  as  inmiortal  as  his  soul  ;  and  by  its  influence, 
though  dead,  he  yet  speaketh  and  worketh. 

Men  live  after  they  are  dead.  Outliving  our 
memory,  and  more  enduring  than  any  monument  of 
brass  or  marble,  our  example  may  prove  like  the 
circle  that  rises  round  the  sinking  stone,  and,  grow- 
ing wider  and  wider,  eml)races  a  larger  and  larger 
sphere,  till  it  dies  in  gentle  wavelets  on  the  distant 
beach.  It  reaches  a  distant  shore  ;  your  example  a 
distant  time. 

Take  care,  then,  how  you  live.  — Guthrie. 

(i860.)  The  blossom  cannot  tell  what  becomes  of 
its  odour,  and  no  man  can  tell  w  hat  becomes  of  his 


EXAMPLE. 


(     324     ) 


EXAMPLE. 


influence  and  example,  that  roll  away  from  him,  and 
go  beyond  his  ken  on  their  perilous  mission. 

(1 86 1.)  A  child,  coming  from  a  filthy  home,  was 
taught  at  school  to  wash  his  face.  He  went  home 
so  much  improved  in  appearance,  that  his  mother 
washed  her  lace.  And  when  the  father  of  the  house- 
hold came  home,  and  saw  the  improvement  in 
domestic  appearances,  he  washed  Ins  face.  The 
neiglibours,  happening  to  call  in,  saw  the  change, 
and  tried  the  same  experiment,  until  all  that  street 
was  purified  ;  and  the  next  street  copied  its  example, 
and  the  whole  city  felt  the  result  of  one  school-boy 
washing  his  face.  That  is  a  fable,  by  which  we  set 
forth  that  the  best  way  to  get  the  world  washed  of 
its  sins  and  pollution,  is  to  have  our  own  heart  and 
life  cleansed  and  purified.  A  man  with  grace  in  his 
face,  and  Christian  cheerfulness  in  his  heart,  and 
only  consistency  in  his  behaviour,  is  a  perpetual  ser- 
mon ;  and  the  sermon  differs  from  others  in  that  it 
has  but  one  head,  and  the  longer  it  runs  the  better. 

—  Talmage. 

3.  Its  power  for  evil. 

(1862.)  A  virtuous  man,  shining  in  the  purity  of 
a  righteous  life,  is  a  lighthouse  set  by  the  sea-side, 
whereby  both  the  mariners  sail  aright  and  avoid 
danger  :  but  he  that  lives  in  noted  sins  is  a  false 
lantern,  which  shipwrecks  those  that  trust  him. 
— J^elllhain,  1668. 

(1863.)  He  that  gives  good  receipts,  and  follows 
them  by  a  bad  examj^le,  is  liUe  a  foolish  man  who 
should  take  great  pains  to  kindle  a  fire,  and  wlien 
it  is  kindled,  throw  cold  water  upon  it  to  quench  it. 

— Seeker. 

(1864.)  When  men  first  engage  into  the  ways  of 
God,  they  have  a  reverent  esteem  of  those  whom 
they  believe  to  have  been  made  partakers  of  that 
mercy  before  themselves  ;  these  they  love  and  hon- 
our, as  it  is  their  duty.  But  after  a  while  they  find 
many  of  them  walking  in  many  things  unevenly, 
crookedly,  and  not  unlike  the  men  of  the  world. 
Here  sin  is  not  wanting  to  its  advantage.  Insen- 
sibly it  prevails  with  men  to  a  compliance  with 
them.  "This  way,  this  course  of  walking,  does 
well  enough  with  others ;  why  may  it  not  do  so  with 
us  also  ?  "  Such  is  the  inward  thought  of  many, 
that  works  effectually  in  them.  And  so,  through 
the  craft  of  sin,  one  generation  of  professors  cor- 
rupts another.  As  a  stream  arising  from  a  clear 
spring,  whilst  it  runs  in  its  own  peculiar  channel, 
and  keeps  its  water  unmixed,  preserves  its  purity 
and  cleanness,  but  when  it  fails  in  its  course  with 
other  streams  that  are  turbid  and  foul,  though  run- 
ning the  same  way  with  it,  it  becomes  muddy  and 
discoloured  also  ;  so  is  it  in  this  case.  Believers 
come  forth  from  the  spring  of  the  new  birth  with 
some  purity  and  cleanness ;  thus  for  a  while  they 
keep  in  tlie  course  of  their  private  walking  with 
God  :  but  now,  when  they  come  sometimes  to  fall 
into  society  with  others,  whose  profession  flows  and 
runs  the  same  way  with  theirs,  even  towards  heaven, 
but  yet  are  muddied  and  sullied  with  sin  ami  tiie 
world,  they  are  often  corrupted  with  them  and  by 
them,  and  so  decline  from  tiieir  first  purity,  faith, 
and  holiness.  — Owen,  1616-1683. 

(1865.)  One  watch  kept  right  will  do  to  try  many 
by  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  one  that  goes  wrong 
may  be  the  naeans  of  misleading  a  whole  neighbour- 


hood :  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  exampla 
we  individually  set  to  those  around  us. 

— E.  Cook. 

4.  Is  no  rule  of  life  or  excuse  for  sin. 

(1866.)  For  any  voluntarily  to  fall  into  such  a 
frame  as  others  are  cast  into  by  the  power  of  their 
temptations,  or  to  think  that  will  suffice  in  them 
which  they  see  to  suffice  in  others  whose  distempers 
they  know,  is  folly  and  presumption.  He  that 
knows  such  or  such  a  person  to  be  a  living  man 
and  of  healthy  constitution,  if  he  sees  him  go 
crawling  up  and  down  about  his  affairs,  feeble  and 
weak,  sometimes  falling,  sometimes  standing,  and 
making  small  progress  in  anything,  will  he  think  it 
sufficient  for  himself  to  do  so  also?  Will  he  not 
inquire  whether  the  person  he  sees  have  not  lately 
fallen  into  some  distemper  or  sickness  that  has 
weakened  him  and  brought  him  into  that  condition? 
Assuredly  he  will  so  do.  Take  heed,  Christians  ; 
many  of  the  professors  with  whom  ye  do  converse 
are  sick  and  wounded,  the  wounds  of  some  of  them  do 
stink  and  are  corrupt  because  of  their  folly.  If  you 
have  any  spiritual  healtii,  do  not  think  their  weak 
and  uneven  walking  will  be  accepted  at  your  hands  ; 
much  less  think  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  become 
sick  and  to  be  wounded  also. 

— Owen,  1 616-1683. 

6.  Which  to  follow. 

(1867.)  Seeing  we  are  all  apt  to  be  followers,  let 
us  seek  out  the  best  patterns.  It  is  the  custom  of 
the  wicked  to  pretermit  all  good  precedents  and  to 
single  out  such  as  they  would  have,  not  such  as 
they  should  have.  As  the  dorr,  that  passelh  by  all 
the  sweet  flowers  of  the  meadow,  humming  in  scorn, 
and  ends  his  fliglit  in  a  dung-hill.  Or  as  the 
Egyptians,  who  behold  the  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars, 
all  tlie  glories  of  nature,  without  admiration,  yea, 
without  common  regard  ;  until  they  spy  a  crocodile, 
an  ugly  serpent,  and  then  fall  down  on  their  knees 
to  worship  it.  — Adams,  1653. 

(1868.)  Let  us  then  look  out  better  precedents  to 
follow  :  "  Be  followers  together  of  Me,  and  mark 
them  which  walk  so  as  ye  have  us  for  an  ensample." 
We  must  not  imitate  every  one,  but  such  as  Paul ; 
nor  Paul  in  every  thing,  but  wherein  he  follows 
Christ.  That  great  apostle  encouraged  our  imita* 
tion,  but  gave  a  limitation  :  Do  not  you  follow  altef 
me,  unless  you  see  the  track  of  Christ  before  me. 
Let  us  follow  good  men,  but  only  in  what  they  arc 
good.  In  our  Christian  imitation,  there  is  one 
example  necessary  ;  Christ  who  is  called  the  way  ; 
I'ia  in  exentplo.  veiilas  in  pi'oniisso,  vita  in  pra:mio 
others  but  in  some  actions,  and  at  some  occasions 
their  lives  being  lines  so  far  to  be  followed,  as  they 
swerve  not  from  the  original  copy,  Christ.  We  are 
not  bound  to  be  good  men's  apes :  let  us  follow 
David  where  he  followed  God's  heart,  not  where 
he  followed  his  own  heart  ;  if  he  turn  toward  lust 
and  blood,  let  us  leave  him  there.  Let  us  follov» 
Peter's  confession,  not  his  abnegation  :  All  our 
following  hath  the  so  far  ;  if  our  precedents  go  out 
of  the  way,  let  us  shake  hands  and  bid  them  /are- 
well.  Two  of  us  are  going  towards  Jerusalem  ,  but 
saith  one,  I  must  needs  call  in  at  Rome,  or  go  a 
little  about  by  Samaria,  Nay,  then  I  leave  you ; 
here  our  ways  part.  — Adams,  1653. 

(1869.)  The  way  to  excel  in  any  kind,  is  to  pro- 
pose the  highest  and  most  perfect  examples  to  ouf 


EXAMPLE. 


(     325     ) 


FAITH. 


Imitation.  No  man  can  write  after  too  perfect  and 
good  a  copy  ;  and  though  he  can  never  reach  the 
perfection  of  it,  yet  he  is  like  to  learn  more  than  by 
one  less  perfect.  He  that  aims  at  the  heavens, 
which  yet  he  is  sure  to  come  short  of,  is  like  to 
shoot  higher  than  he  that  aims  at  a  mark  within  his 
reach.  — 'Jiiloison,  1630-1694, 

(1870.)  Example  is  a  dangerous  lure  ;  where  the 
wasp  got  through  the  gnat  sticks  fast. 

— La  tonlaine^  1621-1695. 

6.  Importance  and  value  of  tlie  Imman  examples 

set  before  us  in  Scripture. 

{187 1.)  God  hath  provided  and  recommended  us 
to  one  example,  as  a  perfect  standard  of  good 
practice  ;  the  example  of  our  Lord.  Tliat  indeed  is 
the  most  universal,  absolute,  and  assured  pattern  ; 
yet  dotii  it  not  supersede  the  use  of  other  examples, 
not  only  the  valour  and  conduct  of  the  general,  but 
those  of  the  inferior  officers,  yea,  the  resolution  of 
common  soldiers,  do  serve  to  animate  their  fellows. 
The  siars  have  Iheir  season  to  guitle  us,  as  well  as 
the  sun  ;  esjjecially  when  our  eyes  are  so  weak  as 
haidiy  to  bear  the  day.  Even,  considering  our 
infirmity,  inferior  examples  by  their  imperfection 
sometimes  have  a  peculiar  advantage.  Our  Lord's 
most  imitable  practice  did  proceed  from  an  immense 
virtue  of  Divine  grace,  which  we  cannot  arrive  to  ; 
it,  in  itself,  is  so  perfect  and  high,  that  we  may  not 
ever  reach  it  ;  looking  upon  it  may  therefore  some- 
times dazzle  and  discourage  our  weakness :  but 
other  good  men  had  assistance  in  measure,  such  as 
we  may  ho])e  to  approach  unto  ;  they  were  subject 
to  the  dilhcullies  which  we  feel ;  they  were  exposed 
to  the  perils  of  falling  which  we  fear  :  we  may 
therefore  hope  to  march  on  in  a  reasonable  distance 
alter  them  ;  we  may,  by  help  of  the  same  grace, 
come  near  in  transcribing  their  less  exact  copy. 

— LarroWf  1630-1677. 

(1872.)  It  is  true  that  with  the  sun  shining 
we  feel  no  need  for  those  lesser  orbs  that  lose  their 
lustre  in  his  overwhelming  brightness.  But  it  is 
not  true  that  with  a  perfect  model  of  every  virtue 
and  grace  in  Jesus  Christ  we  have  no  need  of  any 
other.  Children  must  creep  before  they  can  walk  : 
and  on  such  as  are  only  yet  able  to  make  feeble 
efforts  in  the  direction  of  what  is  good,  the  very 
lact  that  Christ  presents  not  merely  a  high,  but  a 
perfect  model,  may  have  somewhat  of  a  depress- 
ing and  deterring  influence.  To  live  like  Him 
seems  a  hopeless  task.  Greatly  superior  to  us  as 
Abraham,  Aloses,  David,  and  Paul  appear,  they  re- 
semble those  lofty  mountains  to  whose  tops,  though 
raised  high  above  the  level  plain  and  piercing  the 
clouds  with  their  glistening  snows,  a  brave  crags- 
man may  climb  ;  but  Jesus,  occupying  a  higher 
region,  seems  like  the  star  that  shines  above  them, 
which,  though  we  should  mount  up  on  eagle's  wings, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  reach.  It  is  not  impos- 
sible. We  are  assured  that  when  we  shall  see  Him, 
we  shall  be  like  Him  as  He  is.  Yet  there  are  times 
of  defeat,  of  spiritual  depression,  when  one,  who 
might  otherwise  give  up  in  despair,  will  attempt 
the  imitation  of  an  imperfect  model,  and  find  in  its 
very  imperfections  encouragement  to  persevere. 

Besides,  while  Jesus  was,  in  a  sense,  tempted  in 
all  points  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin,  and  while 
His  life  does  certainly  illustrate  the  grand  prin- 
ciples of  our  duty  towjird  God  and  man,  the  saints 


are  very  valuable  as  models,  since  they  teach  us 
how  to  act  in  circumstances  in  which  our  Lord  was 
never  placed,  but  we  often  are.  Though  bone  o« 
our  bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh,  and  as  such  having 
a  fellow-feeling  with  all  our  infirmities,  He  was  not 
a  fallen  man,  as  we  are,  and  the  saints  were.  Ani- 
mated by  the  same  passions,  placed  in  the  same 
relationships,  and  called  to  endure  the  same  trials 
as  ourselves,  their  footprints  teach  us  where  to 
walk,  and  their  triumphs  how  to  conquer.  We 
look  on  Jesus,  nor  can  hope  to  be  altogether  such 
as  He  was,  till  death's  strong  hand  break  the 
mould  of  clay,  and  we  are  brought  forth,  to  the  ad- 
miration and  joy  of  angels,  a  perfect  image  of  our 
Lord  and  Master.  But  in  the  faith  of  Abraham 
and  the  chastity  of  Joseph,  the  meekness  of  Moses 
and  the  patience  of  Job,  the  piety  of  David  and  the 
fidelity  of  Daniel,  the  zeal  of  Paul  and  the  love  of 
John,  we  see  what  attainments  others  have  reached, 
to  what  heights  of  grace  we  ourselves  may  aspire. 

— Gulkrie, 


FAITH. 
I.    ITS   NATURE. 

1.  It  is  confidence  in  truta. 

(1873.)  Faith  is  a  theological  term  rarely  used  in 
other  matters.  Hence  its  meaning  is  obscured. 
But  faith  is  no  strange,  new,  peculiar  power; 
supernaturally  infused  by  Christianity  ;  but  the 
same  principle  by  which  we  live  from  day  to  day, 
one  of  the  commonest  in  our  daily  life. 

We  trust  our  senses  ;  and  that  though  they  often 
deceive  us,  we  trust  men  ;  a  battle  must  often  be 
risked  on  the  intelligence  of  a  spy.  A  merchant 
commits  his  ships  with  all  his  fortunes  on  board  to 
a  hired  captain,  whose  temptations  are  enormous. 
Without  this  principle  society  could  not  hold  to- 
gether for  a  day.     It  would  be  a  mere  sand-heap. 

Such  too  is  religious  faith  ;  we  trust  on  probabili- 
ties;  and  this  though  probabilities  often  are  against 
us.  We  cannot  prove  God's  existence.  The  bal- 
ance of  probabilities,  scientifically  speaking,  are 
nearly  equal  for  a  living  person  or  a  lifeless  cause  : 
immortality,  &c.,  in  the  same  way.  But  faith  throws 
its  own  convictions  into  the  scale  and  decides  the 
preponderance. 

Faith,  then,  is  that  which,  when  probabiiifie?  are 
equal,  ventures  on  God's  side,  and  on  the  side  of 
right,  on  the  guarantee  of  a  something  within  which 
makes  the  thing  seem  to  be  true  because  it  is  loved. 
It  is  so  defined  by  St.  Paul  :  "  Faith  is  the  sub- 
stance of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things 
unseen."  — F.  W.  Koberlso7t,  1816-1853. 

2.  It  is  confidence  in  the  ability  of  persons. 

(1874.)  Religious  faith,  like  natural  faith,  exists, 
not  perhaps  in  opposition  to,  but  in  distinction  from, 
present  knowledge.  That  is  to  say,  in  the  exercise 
of  faith  we  do  many  things  both  in  nature  and 
religion,  of  the  results  of  which  we  do  not  possess, 
at  the  present  time,  any  certain  foresight.  If  faith 
did  not  carry  us  beyond  the  reach  of  our  own  under- 
standing, beyond  the  line  of  human  reason,  beyond 
what  we  can  now  perceive,  it  would  not  be  faith  ; 
and  those  who  might  walk  within  the  circle  de- 
scribed by  that  measurement,  could  not  be  said  to 
walk  by  faith  but  by  sight. 

The  daughter  of  a  celebrated  physician  was  once 
attacked  by  a  violent  and  dangerous  fever ;  but  sho 


FAITH. 


<    336    ) 


FAITH. 


exhibited  great  resignation  and  tranquillity.  She 
said  she  was  i^fnorant  of  what  might  ett'ect  her  cure ; 
and  if  it  were  left  to  herself  to  prescribe,  she  might 
desire  remedies  which  would  be  prejudicial.  Shall 
I  not  gain  everything,  she  added,  by  abandoning 
myself  entirely  to  my  father  ?  He  desires  my  re- 
covery ;  he  knows  much  better  than  I  do  what  is 
adapted  to  the  restoration  of  my  health  ;  and  having 
confidence  therefore,  that  everything  will  be  done  for 
me  which  can  be  done,  I  remain  without  solicitude 
either  as  to  the  means  or  the  result. — This  was  an 
instance  of  natural  faith  ;  believing  without  know- 
ing ;  and  entirely  peaceable  and  tranquil,  while 
trusting  itself  in  the  hands  of  another.  Religious 
faith,  in  like  manner,  trusts  itself  in  the  hands  of 
God  ;  knowing  nothing  and  enduring  all  things,  in 
the  full  confidence  that  it  will  be  well  in  the  end. 

—  Upham. 

i.  It  Is  confidence  in  the  character  of  persons. 

(1875.)  Faitli  is  a  tlieological  expression  ;  we  are 
apt  to  forget  that  it  has  any  other  tlian  a  theological 
import ;  yet  it  is  the  commonest  jjrinciple  of  man's 
daily  life,  called  in  that  region  prudence,  enterprise, 
or  some  such  name.  It  is  in  effect  the  principle  on 
which  alone  any  human  superiority  can  be  gained. 
Faith  in  religion  is  the  same  principle  as  faith  in 
worldly  matters,  differing  only  in  its  object ;  it  rises 
through  successive  stages.  When  in  reliance  upon 
your  promise,  your  child  gives  up  the  half  hour's 
idleness  of  to-day  for  the  holiday  of  to-morrow,  he 
lives  by  faith  ;  a  faith  su])ersedes  the  present  pleas- 
ure. When  he  abstains  from  over-indulgence  of  the 
appetite,  in  reliance  upon  your  word  that  the  result 
will  be  pain  and  sickness,  sacrificing  the  present 
pleasure  for  fear  of  future  punishment,  he  acts  on 
faith  :  I  do  not  say  that  this  is  a  higli  exercise  of 
faith,  — T.  IV.  Robertson,  1S16-1853. 

(1876.)  The  child  that  sets  out  with  his  parents 
upon  a  long  and  untried  journey,  without  a  doubt 
that  his  parents  will  supply  his  wants,  and  guide 
him  in  the  right  way,  and  will  bring  him  home  again 
in  safety  (if,  indeed,  he  feels  that  he  can  have  a 
home  but  in  the  arms  and  presenceof  those  parents), 
knows  wliat  it  is  to  believe.  The  young  man  who 
for  the  first  time  enters  upon  business  for  himself, 
and,  in  the  prosecution  of  the  plans  and  labours 
which  now  devolve  upon  him,  finds  it  necessary  to 
implicate  himself  with  his  fellow-men.  and  to  enter 
into  arrangements  and  contracts  which  imply  the 
discharge  of  duties  antl  the  fultilment  of  promises  on 
the  part  of  others,  knows  what  it  is  to  believe.  The 
man  of  more  mature  years,  who  is  called  by  his 
countrymen  to  the  high  ofhce  of  sustaining  and 
administering  the  laws,  but  who  is  obviously  unable 
to  do  it,  without  confidence  in  himself,  without 
confidence  in  his  subordinate  agents  and  in  tlie 
community  at  large,  knows  what  it  is  to  believe. 
So  complicated  are  the  relations  of  society,  and  so 
dependent  is  man  on  his  fellow-man,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  see,  if  man  had  not  faith  in  others,  how 
he  could  exist  in  the  world  for  any  length  of  time. 

— Upham. 

i.  It  Is  trust  in  the  testimony  of  others. 

(1877.)  There  is  more  of  belief  than  reason  in  the 
world.  All  instructors  and  masters  in  sciences  and 
arts  require,  first,  a  belief  in  their  disci]>les,  and  a 
resignation  of  their  understanding  and  wills  to  them. 
And  it  is  the  wisdom  of  God  to  require  that  of  man 


which  his  own  reason  makes  him  submit  to  another 
which  is  his  fellow-creature.  He,  therefoie,  that 
quarrels  witli  the  condition  of  faith,  must  quariel 
with  all  the  world,  since  belief  is  the  beginning  of 
all  knowledge  ;  yea,  and  most  of  the  knowledge  in 
the  world  may  rather  come  under  the  title  ol  Ijelief 
than  of  knowledge  ;  for  what  we  think  we  know 
this  day  we  may  tind  from  others  such  arguments  as 
may  stagger  our  knowledge,  and  make  us  doubt  of 
that  we  thought  ourselves  certain  of  before  ;  nay, 
sometimes  we  change  our  opinions  ourselves  with- 
out any  instructor,  and  see  a  reason  to  entertain  an 
opinion  quite  contrary  to  what  we  had  before.  And 
if  we  found  a  general  judgment  of  others  to  vote 
against  what  we  think  we  know,  it  would  make  us 
give  the  less  credit  to  ourselves  and  our  own  senti- 
ments. All  knowledge  in  the  world  is  only  a  belief 
depending  upon  the  testimony  or  arguings  of  others  ; 
for,  indeed,  it  may  be  said  of  all  men,  as  in  job  viii. 
9,  "We  are  but  of  yesterday,  and  know  nothing." 
—  Charnock,  1 628- 1 6SOb 

(1878.)  It  is  easy  to  show  that,  even  considering 
faith  as  trust  in  another,  it  is  no  irrational  or  strange 
principle  of  conduct  in  the  concerns  of  this  life. 

For  when  we  consider  the  subject  attenlivel)',  how 
few  things  there  are  which  we  can  ascertain  foi 
ourselves  by  our  own  senses  and  reason  !  After 
all,  what  do  we  know  without  trusting  otheis?  We 
know  that  we  are  in  a  certain  state  of  health,  in  a 
certain  place,  have  been  alive  for  a  certain  number 
of  years,  ha\'e  certain  principles  antl  likings,  have 
certain  persons  around  us,  and  perhaps  have  in  our 
lives  travelled  to  certain  places  at  a  distance.  But 
what  do  we  know  more?  Are  there  not  towns  (we 
will  say)  within  fifty  or  sixty  miles  of  us  which  we 
have  never  seen,  and  which,  nevertheless,  we  fully 
believe  to  be  as  we  have  heard  them  described  ?  To 
extend  our  view  ; — we  know  that  land  stretches'in 
every  direction  of  us  a  certain  number  of  miles,  and 
then  there  is  sea  on  all  sides  ;  that  we  are  in  an 
island.  But  who  has  seen  the  land  all  around,  and 
has  proved  for  himself  that  the  fact  is  so?  What, 
then,  convinces  us  of  it  ?  The  report  of  others  ;  this 
trust,  this  faith  in  testimony  which,  when  religion 
is  concerned,  then,  and  only  then,  the  proud  and 
sinful  would  fain  call  irrational. 

And  what  I  have  instanced  in  one  set  of  facts 
which  we  believe,  is  equally  true  of  numberless 
others,  of  almost  all  of  those  which  we  think  wa 
know. 

Consider  how  men  in  the  business  of  life,  nay,  all 
of  us,  confide,  are  obliged  to  conlide,  in  [)ersons  we 
never  saw,  or  know  but  slightly  ;  nay,  in  their  hand- 
writings which,  for  what  we  know,  may  be  forged, 
if  we  are  to  speculate  and  fancy  what  may  be.  We 
act  upon  our  trust  in  them  implicitl)',  because  com- 
mon sense  tel's  us  that,  with  proper  caution  and 
discretion,  faith  in  others  is  perfectl)  safe  and 
rational.  Scripture,  then,  only  bids  us  act  in 
respect  to  a  future  life  as  we  are  every  day  acting 
at  present.  — ^\inuman. 

(1879.)  How  certain  we  all  are  when  we  think  on 
the  subject  that  we  must  sooner  or  later  die.  No 
one  seriously  thinks  he  can  escape  death  ;  and  men 
dispose  of  their  property  and  arrange  their  affairs, 
confidently  contem])lating,  not  indeed  the  exact  time 
ol  their  death,  still  death  as  sooner  or  later  to  befall 
them.  Of  course  they  do  ;  it  would  be  mos)  irra- 
tional in  them  not  to  expect  it.     Yet  observe,  what 


FAITH. 


(    327     ) 


FAITH. 


proof  has  any  one  of  us  that  he  shall  die?  Because 
other  men  die?  How  does  he  know  that?  Has  he 
seen  tliem  die?  He  can  know  nothing  of  what  took 
place  before  he  was  born,  nor  of  what  happens  in 
other  countries.  How  little,  indeed,  he  knows 
about  it  at  all,  except  that  it  is  a  received  fact,  and 
except  that  it  would,  in  truth,  be  idle  to  doubt  what 
mankind  as  a  whole  witness,  though  each  individual 
has  only  his  proportionate  share  in  the  universal 
festimony.  — Newman. 

6.  It  is  trust  In  God. 

(1880.)  Faith  is  that  conviction  upon  the  mind  of 
the  truth  of  the  promises  and  threatenings  of  God 
made  known  in  the  Gospel  ;  of  the  certain  reality 
of  the  rewards  and  punishments  of  the  life  to  come, 
which  enables  a  man,  in  opposition  to  all  the  tempta- 
tions of  a  corrupt  world,  to  obey  God,  in  expecta- 
tion of  an  invisible  reward  hereafter. 

—Dr.  S.  Clarke. 

(1881.)  In  vain  will  you  hope  to  please  God,  and 
secure  those  rewards  which  He  confers  on  them 
that  diligently  seek  Him,  unless  yours  is  2i  practical 
faith.  Faitli  is  more  than  assent  ;  it  is  active  assent. 
Whatever  a  man  believes,  moves  him  in  proportion 
to  its  importance  ;  and  if  a  man  is  told  anything 
that  concerns  him  greatly,  and  it  does  not  move 
him  at  all,  it  is  proof  sufficient  that  he  does  not 
believe  it.  At  the  commencement  of  the  late  war, 
there  appeared  in  the  "  Daily  News  "  a  most  exciting 
letter  from  one  of  its  correspondents,  detailing  the 
treatment  to  which  he  and  some  other  Englislimen 
had  been  subjected  at  Metz.  Arrested  as  Prussian 
spies,  they  were  nearly  murdered  by  the  mob,  and 
■were  with  difficulty  got  into  a  guard-room  by  the 
soldiers.  There  they  were  examined  by  the  General 
in  command.  Their  answers  to  his  questions  ap- 
peared by  no  means  to  satisfy  him.  The  corres- 
pondent says,  "He  then  looked  at  us  in  tlie  face, 
and,  addressing  the  officers,  police  agents,  and  men 
in  blouses  who  surrounded  him,  said,  '  Gentlemen, 
you  know  that  Metz  is  in  a  state  of  siege,  and  there- 
fore no  longer  under  the  common  law.  We  have 
been  too  humane,  too  noble-hearted,  too  generous. 
While  the  Prussians  have  committed  the  most 
horrible  crimes  against  inoffensive  Frenclimen  and 
other  officers,  we  have  suffered  the  enemy  to  abuse 
our  generosity,  and  this  is  the  gratitude  we  receive. 
But  it  must  stop  once  for  ever.  It  is  a  hard  thing, 
but  the  law  gives  me  the  right  to  shoot  any  one  I 
choose  in  the  market-square  ;  and  an  example  must 
be  given,  or  we  shall  never  have  peace.'  '  Bravo, 
General  !  bravo,  commander  ! '  cried  all  of  them  in 
a  chorus.  The  man  in  a  blouse  left  the  room,  and 
in  a  second  the  whole  square  echoed  with  cries  of 
'Bravo,  le  General  !'  '  Mort  aux  espions  1'  As  I 
felt  pretty  safe  that  M.  le  General  would  think 
twice  before  making  his  experiment  on  an  English 
subject,  I  said  frankly  that  what  he  had  been  saying 
was  all  nonsense."  The  situation  was  a  terrible  one 
— a  man  with  absolute  power  threatening  death,  and 
a  yelling  mob  applauding  the  sanguinary  decree — 
and  yet  the  Englishman  was  not  terrified.  Why? 
Because  he  did  not  believe  that  the  threats  were 
real.  His  'a.  tnness  proved  sufficiently  that  he  had  no 
faith  171  them. — Is  it  not  thus  with  you,  who  live  in 
daily  and  constant  neglect  of  the  great  salvation  ? 
In  what  other  way  could  you  more  plainly  avow 
your  disbelief  in  God's  declarations  concerning  your 
danger  ?     He  assures  you  in    His  Word  that  His 


wrath  abides  upon  all  who  do  not  penitently  seek 
forgiveness  from  Him  through  Jesus  Christ,  that 
when  this  brief  life  is  over  He  will  bar  heaven 
against  you,  and  consign  you  to  endless  woe  ;  and 
you  ?  What  is  it  that  you  do?  By  going  on  just  as 
you  did  before,  you  give  Him  the  lie.  If  not  with 
your  lips,  by  your  lives,  you  reply  that  what  He 
says  is  unworthy  of  credit,  nay,  even  of  serious  con- 
sideration !  Consider  now,  I  pray  you,  how  you 
will  answer  for  the  dishonour  which  you  thus  put 
upon  Him  when  you  meet  with  Him  face  to  face  in 
the  Judgment  Day.  — H.  A.  Bertram. 

II,    ITS   NECESSITY. 

1.  To  the  existence  of  society,  and  to  aU  fonna 
of  human  activity  and  excellence. 

(18S2.)  In  matters  of  daily  life,  we  have  no  time 
for  fastidious  and  perverse  fancies  about  the  minute 
chances  of  our  being  deceived.  We  are  obliged  to 
act  at  once,  or  we  should  cease  to  live.  There  is  a 
chance  (it  cannot  be  denied)  that  our  food  to-day 
may  be  poisonous, — we  cannot  be  quite  certain, — 
but  it  looks  the  same  and  tastes  the  same,  and  we 
have  good  friends  round  us ;  so  we  do  not  abstain 
from  it,  for  all  this  chance,  though  it  is  real. 

— Neivman. 

(1883,)  The  power,  whether  of  painter  or  poet, 
to  describe  rightly  what  he  calls  an  ideal  thing,  de« 
pends  upon  its  being  to  him  not  an  ideal  but  a  real 
thing.  No  man  ever  did  or  ever  will  work  well 
bu''  either  from  actual  sight,  or  sight  of  faith. 

— A'uskin. 

(1S84.)  In  the  business  of  life,  what  is  it  but  faith 
or  trust  that  guides  a  man?  A  merchant,  for  in- 
stance, embarks  his  capital  in  a  foreign  s[3eculation. 
On  what  security  does  he  proceed  ?  Simply  on  that 
of  faith.  He  has  no  certainty  for  anything  on 
which  he  rests  his  whole  adventure.  All  is  mere 
probability,  and  he  risks  so  much  on  these  pro- 
babilities simply  because  he  has  faith  in  them.  He 
has  faith  in  the  elements,  faith  in  the  constancy  of 
nature,  faith  in  human  nature ;  and  on  this  he 
builds.  Go  to  his  counting-house,  and  ask  him  to 
give  you  mathematical  demonstration  or  rational 
philosophical  proof  that  his  venture  will  be  success- 
ful, he  will  laugh  in  your  face,  or  pity  you  ior  an 
unhappy  lunatic,  whom  too  much  study  has  made 
mad.     All  men,  then,  live  by  faith. 

— Dr.  W.  L.  Alexander. 

{1885.)  Faith  is  the  basis  of  all  great,  active 
enterprises.  If  a  man  cannot  think  well  nor  write 
well  without  faith;  so  in  all  difficult  enterpiises, 
which  imply  physical  as  well  as  mental  eftbrt,  he 
cannot  act  well.  Without  faith  there  would  have 
been  no  Parthenon,  and  no  Pyramids  of  Egypt. 
Without  faith  there  would  have  been  no  '1  her- 
mopylae,  and  no  memorable  Marathon.  Hannibal 
could  not  have  passed  the  Alps  without  faith. 
Cincinnatus  could  neither  have  ploughed  nor  have 
left  the  plough  ;  could  neither  have  sowed  for  the 
harvest,  nor  trained  sokliers  for  victory,  without 
faith.  Columbus  could  not  have  crossed  the  ocean 
without  faith.  And  here  we  speak  not  of  religious, 
but  of  natural  faith.  Cortes  coukl  not  have 
conquered  Mexico  without  faith.  Park,  Ledyard, 
Cooke,  and  Bruce  could  not  have  explored  un- 
known countries  without  faith.  Tlie  English 
Revolution,  the  French  Revolution,  the  American 


FAITH. 


(    328     ) 


FAITH. 


Revolution,  whatever  faults  or  ciimes  may  have 
accompanied  any  or  all  of  them,  could  not  have 
been  accomplished  without  faith.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  al!  great  civil  and  political  movements, 
A  mere  sneerer,  the  man  who  sits  in  his  easy-chair, 
believing  in  notiung  and  laughing  at  everything, 
could  have  done  nothing  ol  these  things.  Ko 
oceans  are  crossed  by  him  ;  no  nations  are  con- 
quered ;  no  boundless  forests  are  subdued  ;  no  aide 
barbarism  is  tamed  ;  no  new  civilisation  is  planted 
and  reared  up,  at  the  expense  of  toil  and  blood  in 
mighty  triumph.  — Upham. 

(18S6.)  Faith,  which  is  the  source  of  so  much 
human  happiness,  is  the  mainspring  of  human 
activity.  It  moves  more  than  half  the  machinery 
of  life.  What  leads  the  husbandman,  for  example, 
to  yoke  his  horses  when,  no  bud  bursting  to  clothe 
the  naked  trees,  no  bird  singing  in  hedgerows  or 
frosty  skies,  nature  seems  dead?  With  faith  in  the 
regularity  of  her  laws,  in  the  ordinance  of  her  God, 
he  believes  that  she  is  not  dead  but  sleepeth  ;  and 
so  he  ploughs  and  sows  in  the  certain  expectation 
that  he  shall  reap,  and  that  these  bare  fields  shall  be 
green  in  summer  with  waving  corn,  and  be  merry 
in  autumn  with  sunbrowned  reapers.  The  farmer 
is  a  man  of  faith.  So  is  the  seaman.  No  braver 
man  than  he  who  goes  down  to  see  God's  wonders 
in  the  deep.  Venluiing  his  frail  bark  on  a  sea 
ploughed  by  so  many  keels,  but  wearing  on  its 
bosom  the  furrows  of  none,  with  neither  path  to 
follow  nor  star  to  guide,  the  mariner  knows  no  fear. 
When  the  last  blue  hill  has  dipped  beneath  the 
wave,  and  he  is  alone  on  a  shoreless  sea,  he  is  calm 
and  confident — his  faith  in  the  compass-needle, 
which,  however  his  ship  may  turn,  or  roll,  or 
plunge,  ever  points  true  to  the  north.  An  example 
his  to  be  followed  by  the  Christian  with  his  Bible, 
on  that  faith  venturing:  his  all  life,  crew,  and  cargo, 
he  sieers  his  way  boldly  through  darkest  nights  and 
stormiest  oceans,  with  nothing  but  a  thin  plank 
between  him  and  the  grave.  And  though  meta- 
physicians and  divines  have  involved  this  matter  o( 
faith  in  myste  y,  be  assured  that  there  is  nothing 
more  needed  for  your  salvation  or  mine  than  that 
God  wo\ild  iu'-pire  us  \\ith  a  belief  in  the  declara- 
tions of  His  Word  as  real,  heartfelt,  and  practical,  as 
that  which  we  put  in  the  laws  of  providence — in  the 
due  return  of  day  and  night,  summer  and  winter, 
seed-time  and  harvest.  — Guthrie. 

(18G7.)  Conviction,  which  is  only  another  word 
to  express  faith,  lies  at  the  root  of  all  consistent 
action.  A  mechanical  genius  conceives  an  idea. 
It  is  as  clear  as  noon-day  in  his  mind,  but  ere  that 
idea  is  embodied  in  a  wheel,  a  spring,  or  a  lever,  he 
must  believe  in  the  possibility  of  its  embodiment: 
and  just  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of  his  convic- 
tion as  to  the  practicability  and  probable  success  of 
his  idea  will  he  be  consistent  and  earnest  in  working 
it  out.  The  mind  must  conceive  and  believe,  before 
the  hand  or  foot  will  move.  Coiumbus  conceivtd 
the  existence  of  a  continent  ;  the  conception  grew 
into  a  conv  clion:  the  conviction  was  followed  by 
consistent  action,  and  that  action  was  crowned  with 
success  bv  the  discovery  ot  America.  A  man  believes 
that  an  ob-ervance  of  certain  physical  laws  is  con- 
ducive to  health,  and  he  acts  accordingly.  Another 
lielieves  that  obedience  to  certain  moral  laws  is 
necessary  to  a  good  moral  character,  self-respe<t, 
and  peace  of  conscience,  and  he  obeys  those  lawj 


Christianity,  then,  by  making  man's  pardon  and 
hap])iness  to  hinge  upon  faith,  acts  in  accordance 
with  the  laws  of  his  mental  and  moral  being.  It  is 
no  arbitrary  requirement ;  it  is  as  necessary  to  holy 

obedience   as  any  cause   is   to  an  effect A 

man,  for  instance,  must  believe  in  God,  or  he  will 
never  serve  Him  ;  in  law,  or  he  will  never  obey  it; 
in  sin,  or  he  will  never  see  tlie  necessity  of  a  medi- 
ator  In  other  words,   there  is  a  necessary 

connection  between  laith  and  practice.  "  As  a  man 
thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he."  Convictions  are 
the  seedlings  or  springs  of  actions,  and  actions  make 
the  man,  — 7.  W.  Tozer, 

2.  To  our  happiness  bere  and  now. 

(1888.)  Hast  thou  faith?  To  this,  an  apostle's 
question,  all  men  could,  in  a  sense,  return  an 
answer  in  the  affirmative;  for  it  is  not  more  true 
that  no  man  liveth  and  sinnelh  not,  that  no  man 
liveth  and  believeth  not  ;  or  devil  either;  for  "the 
devils  also  believe  and  tremble."  Suppose  a  man 
without  faith  in  any  one,  without  faith  in  the  hon- 
esty of  his  servants,  faith  in  the  integrity  of  his 
friends,  faith  in  the  affections  of  his  children,  faith 
in  the  fidelity  of  his  wife,  death  would  be  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  a  life  like  his.  Better  that  our  eyes  were 
closed  in  death  than  that  they  should  see  every  one 
with  a  mask  on  their  face  and  a  dagger  beneath  their 
cloak  ;  with  such  a  jaundiced  vision,  we  should  be 
"of  all  men  the  most  miserable."  On  looking  into 
the  matter,  you  will  find  that  faith,  instead  of 
belonging  only  to  the  elect  of  God,  holy  and  chosen, 
is  conmion  to  all,  even  the  worst  of  men.  The 
backbone,  indeed,  of  the  social,  and  the  foundation 
of  the  commercial  fabric,  remove  faith  between  man 
and  man,  and  society  and  commerce  fall  to  pieces. 
There  is  not  a  happy  home  on  earth  but  stands  on 
faith  ;  our  heads  are  pillowed  on  it  ;  we  sleep  at 
night  in  its  arms  with  greater  security  for  the  safety 
of  our  lives,  peace,  and  property,  than  bolts  and 
bars  can  give.  — Gutkrit, 

3.  To  enable  us  to  please  God. 

(1889.)  "One  thing  thou  lackest.''  The  want  ol 
one  thing  may  make  void  the  presence  of  all  things 
else.  Lacking  its  mainspring — which  is  but  one 
thirig — a  watch  with  jewels,  wheels,  pinions,  and 
beautiful  mechanism,  the  finest  watch  indeed  that 
ever  was  made,  is  of  no  more  use  than  a  stone.  A 
sundial  without  its  gnomon,  as  it  is  called,  Time's 
iron  finger  that  throws  its  shadow  on  the  circling 
hours — but  one  thing  also — is  as  useless  in  broad 
day  as  in  the  blackest  night.  A  ship  may  be  built 
of  the  strongest  oak,  with  masts  of  the  stoutest  pine, 
and  manned  by  the  best  officers  and  crew,  but  I  sail 
not  in  her  if  she  lacks  one  thing — that  trembling 
needle  which  a  child  running  about  the  deck  might 
fancy  a  toy  ;  on  that  plaything,  as  it  looks,  the 
safety  of  all  on  board  depends — lacking  that,  but 
one  thing,  the  ship  shall  be  their  coffin,  and  the 
deep  sea  their  grave.  It  is  thus  with  true  piety, 
with  living  faith.  That  one  thing  wanting,  the 
greatest  works,  the  costliest  sacrifices,  and  the  purest 
life,  are  of  no  value  in  the  ''.ight  of  God — are  null 
and  void. 

Still  further,  to  impreiiS  you  with  the  valueless- 
ness  of  everything  without  true  piety,  and  show  how 
its  presence  imparts  such  worth  to  a  believer's  life 
and  labours,  as  to  make  his  mites  weigh  more  than 
other  men's  millions,  and  his  cup  of  cold  watei 
more  precious  tlian  their  cups  of  gold — let  me  boirow 


FAITH. 


c  329  ) 


FAITH. 


an  illustration  from  arithmetic.  Write  down  a  line  of 
ciphers.  You  may  ackl  thousands,  multiplying  them 
till  the  sheets  they  fill  cover  the  face  of  earth  and 
heaven,  they  express  nothing  ;  and  are  worth  noth- 
ing. Now  take  the  smallest  number  of  the  ten,  tlie 
smallest  digit,  and  place  that  at  their  head — magic 
never  wrought  such  a  change  !  What  before 
amounted  to  nothing  rises  instantly  by  the  addition 
of  one  figure,  one  stroke  of  the  pen,  into  thousands, 
or  millions,  as  the  case  may  be  ;  and  whether  they 
represent  pounds  or  pearls,  how  great  is  the  sum  oi 
them  !  Such  power  resides  in  true  faith — in  gen- 
uine piety. 

It  may  be  the  lowest  piety — but  one  degree  above 
zero  ;  it  may  be  the  love  of  smoking  tlax  ;  the  hope 
of  a  bruised  reed  ;  the  faith  of  a  mustard  seed  ;  the 
hesitating,  fluttering  confidence  of  him  who  cried, 
"Lord,  I  believe;  help  Thou  mine  unbelief "  Still, 
so  soon  as  it  is  inwrought  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  it 
changes  the  whole  aspect  of  a  man's  life  and  the 
whole  prospect  of  his  eternity.  It  is  that  one  thing, 
wanting  which,  however  amiable,  moral,  and  even 
appar-ently  religious  we  may  be,  our  Lord  addresses 
us,  as  lie  did  the  young  ruler,  saying,  "One  thing 
thou  lackest."  — Gutlirie. 

III.    ITS  PRECIOUSNESS. 

1.  By  It  we  are  Justified. 

(1890.)  Faith  will  be  of  more  use  to  us  than  any 
gjace  ;  as  an  eye,  though  dim,  was  of  more  use  to 
an  Israelite  than  all  the  other  members  of  Ids  body  ; 
not  a  strong  arm,  or  a  nimble  foot  ;  it  was  his  eye 
looking  on  the  brazen  serpent  that  cured  him.  It 
IS  not  knowledge,  though  angelical,  not  repentance, 
though  we  could  shed  rivers  of  tears,  could  justify 
us  :  only  faith,  whereby  we  look  on  Christ. 

—  IVatsoii,  1696. 

2.  By  It  we  are  rafted  Into  Christ. 

(1891.)  Faith  is  the  vital  artery  of  the  soul. 
When  we  begin  to  believe,  vve  begin  to  love.  Faith 
grafts  the  soul  into  Christ,  as  the  scion  into  the 
stock,  and  fetches  all  its  nutriment  from  the  blessed 
vine.  — IVatsoii,  1696. 

S.  By  It  our  final  salvation  Is  ensured. 

(1892.)  Now,  because  Noah's  faith  was  the  thing 
that  wrapped  up  his  soul  in  the  favour  of  God,  the 
ground  of  all  his  perfection  and  righteousness,  the 
virtue  whereby  he  lived  when  all  the  world  was 
drowned  ;  how  precious  slioultl  this  jewel  be  to  us, 
without  which  we  can  neither  live  in  this  valley  of 
tears,  nor  escape  in  the  day  of  flames  !  There  is 
no  life  but  in  the  Son,  and  "he  that  hath  the  Son 
hath  life,"  and  he  that  hath  faith  hath  the  Son. 
Justus  ex  fide  vivet :  faith,  like  Eve,  is  the  mother 
of  all  that  live.  God  Himself  is  content  to  divide 
His  praises  with  faith  :  whereas  she  can  do  nothing 
but  by  Him,  she  shall  do  anything  with  Him.  She 
can  work  wonders  :  subduing  kingdoms,  strangling 
lions,  quenching  violent  fires,  with  handfuls  con- 
quermg  huge  armies,  dividing  seas,  turning  back 
streams,  yea,  commanding  mountains  to  remove, 
overcoming  the  world  ;  what  call  you  these  but 
wonders?  Such  wonders  can  faith  do.  Yea,  Cod 
is  pleased  to  do  noihing  for  us  without  her,  that 
doth  dl  tilings  of  Himself.  True  faith  is  not  less 
than  miraculous  in  the  sphere  of  her  activity,  and 
with  tiie  warrant  of  God's  truth.  It  is  no  prsmu- 
nire  nor  offence  to  God's  crown  and  dignity,  to  say, 


it  is  His  own  arm  to  the  saving  of  men.  There  is 
a  kind  of  omnipotence  in  faith,  when  it  shall  say  to 
the  sun  and  moon.  Stand  still,  and  be  obeyed.  l!ut 
as  Christ  could  do  no  miracle  in  Capernaum,  be- 
cause they  had  no  faith  ;  so  where  men  want  faith, 
it  must  be  a  miracle,  yea,  beyond  a  miracle,  if  they 
be  saved.  I  know  it  is  easy  to  say,  I  believe  :  there 
is  a  titular  faith,  but  it  shall  never  save  any,  until 
saying.  Be  filled,  gives  a  man  his  dinner  ;  or.  Be 
warmed,  makes  him  hot.  But  he  that  can  believe, 
with  Noah,  in  a  storm  of  indignation,  in  a  deluge  of 
destruction,  when  the  arrows  of  vengeance  fly  about, 
and  the  Lord  raineth  coals  of  fire  like  hailstones,  in 
flaming  trials,  and  strongest,  temptations  ;  then  to 
believe,  shall  bring  a  glorious  crown  in  the  day  of 
Jesus  Christ.  — Adams,  1653. 

4.  It  brings  peace. 

(1893.)  We  have  peace  in  believing.  We  have 
peace  with  our  own  conscience.  When  that  stern 
sergeant  shall  take  thee  by  the  throat,  and  arrest 
thee  upon  God  s  debt,  I'ay  that  thou  owest ;  let  thy 
faith  |ilead,  1  have  paid  it.  How?  Produce  thy 
acquittance,  that  blootly  acquittance,  sealed  in  the 
wounds  of  thy  Saviour,  and  given  to  thy  faith. 
This  shall  turn  the  frowns  of  thy  conscience  into 
smiles  ;  and  that  hand  vvhich  was  ready  to  hale  thee 
to  prison,  shall  now  embrace  thee  with  joy,  en- 
courage thee  with  kindness,  and  fight  for  thee  with 
conquest.  — Adams,  1653. 

(1894.)  "Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace 
with  God,"  i.e.,  we  enter  into  the  state  of  peace 
immediately.  "  Peace  is  sown  for  the  righteous, 
and  gladness  for  the  upright  in  heart."  And  he  is 
a  rich  man  wlio  has  a  thousand  acres  of  corn  in  the 
ground,  as  well  as  he  who  has  so  much  in  his  barn, 
or  the  money  in  his  purse.  They  have  rest  and 
peace  in  the  seed  of  it,  when  they  have  it  not  in  the 
fruit  ;  they  have  rest  in  the  [Momise.  when  they 
have  it  not  in  possession  ;  and  he  is  a  rich  man  who 
has  good  bonds  and  bills  for  a  great  sum  of  money, 
if  lie  have  not  twelve  pence  in  his  pocket.  All 
believers  have  the  promise,  have  rest  and  peace 
granted  them  under  God's  own  hand,  in  many  pro- 
mises which  faith  brings  them  under  ;  and  we  know 
that  the  truth  and  faitlifulness  of  God  stands  en- 
gaged to  make  good  every  line  and  word  of  the 
promise  to  them.  So  that  though  they  have  not  a 
full  and  clear  actual  sense  and  feeling  of  rest,  they 
are,  nevertheless,  by  faith  come  into  the  state  of  rest. 
— Havel,  1030-1691. 

6.  Of  all  other  graces  It  is  the  germ  and  ani- 
mating power. 

( 1 895.)  Love,  touched  by  the  hand  of  faith,  flames 
forth  ;  hope,  fed  at  faith's  table,  grows  strong,  and 
casts  anchor  within  the  veil  ;  joy,  courage,  and  zeal, 
being  sndled  upon  by  faith,  are  made  invincible  and 
unconquerable.  What  oil  is  to  the  wheels,  what 
weights  are  to  the  clock,  what  wings  are  to  the  bird, 
what  sails  are  to  the  ship,  that  faith  is  to  all 
religious  duties  and  services.  — Brooks,  1680. 

(1896.)  Faith  has  an  influence  upon  other  graces 
It  is  like  a  silver  threrid  that  runs  through  a  chain 
of  pearls.  It  puts  strength  and  vivacity  into  aU 
other  virtues.  It  made  Abraham  rejoice,  and  it 
made  Noah  sit  still  and  quiet  in  the  midst  of  a 
deluge.  Faith  is  the  first  ])in  that  moves  the  soul  ; 
it  is  the  s])ring  in  the  watch  that  sets  agoing — all 
the  golden  wheels  of  love,  joy,  comfort,  and  peace. 


FAITH. 


(    VP    ) 


FAITH. 


Faith  is  a  root  grace,  from  whence  spring  all  the 
s'weet  flowers  of  joy  and  peace.     — Brooks,  1680. 

(1897.)  Faith  is  an  assimilating  grace  ;  itchangeth 
the  soul  into  the  image  of  the  oljject.  A  deformed 
person  may  look  on  a  beautiful  object,  but  not  be 
made  beautiiul  ;  but  faith  looking  on  Christ  trans- 
forms a  man,  and  turns  him  into  Mis  similitude. 
Faith  looking  on  a  bleeding  Christ,  causeth  a  soft, 
bleeding  heart  ;  looking  on  an  holy  Christ,  causeth 
sanctity  of  heart  ;  looking  on  an  humble  Christ, 
makes  the  soul  humble.  — IVatson,  1696. 

(1S98.)  Faith  hath  influence  upon  all  the  graces, 
and  sets  them  a-work  ;  not  a  grace  stirs  till  faith  sets 
t  a-work.  As  the  clothier  sets  the  poor  a-work,  he 
sets  their  wheel  a-going  :  faith  sets  hope  a-work. 
The  heir  must  believe  his  title  to  an  estate  in  rever- 
sion, before  he  can  hope  for  it  ;  faith  believes  its 
title  to  glory,  and  then  hope  waits  for  it.  Did  not 
faith  feed  the  lamp  of  hope  with  oil,  it  woukl  soon 
die.  Faith  sets  love  a-work,  "  Faith  which  Work- 
eth  by  love;"  believing  the  mercy  and  merit  of 
Christ  causeth  a  flame  of  love  to  ascend.  Faith 
sets  patience  a-work,  "  Be  followers  of  them,  who 
through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promise." 
Faith  believes  the  glorious  rewards  given  to  suffer- 
ing. This  makes  the  soul  patient  in  suffering. 
Thus  faith  is  the  master-wheel,  it  sets  all  the  other 
graces  a-running.  — IVatsun,  1696. 

(1899.)  If  the  spring  in  a  watch  be  stopped,  it 
will  hinder  the  motion  of  the  wheels  ;  if  faith  be 
down,  ail  the  other  graces  are  at  a  stand. 

—  IVatson,  1696. 

(1900.)  Every  one  knows  that  the  seeds  of  plants 
and  trees  must  be  cast  into  the  earth  and  become 
decomposed  before  vegetation  will  take  place.  This 
is  one  of  nature's  wonders,  or  rather  of  nature's  God. 
Let  us  imagine,  if  we  can,  a  man  who  had  never 
seen  this  order  exemplified  in  this  particular  instance, 
and  he  would  be  just  as  ready  to  disbelieve  that 
plants  and  trees  could  spring  from  seed  cast  into  the 
earth,  as  we  are  to  calculate  upon  the  certainty  of 
the  faci.  What  resemblance  is  there  indeed  between 
the  future  plant,  and  the  seed  from  which  it  springs? 
How  little  could  mere  reason,  without  ex]-)erience, 
venture  to  predict  the  result  that  follows  from  a  few 
handfuls  of  grain  scattered  over  the  soil  !  So,  when 
overwhelmed  with  our  corrujjtions,  and  we  can 
scarce  discover  the  existence  of  any  graces,  and  then 
look  at  the  height  and  stature  they  have  attained  to 
in  others,  we  are  ready  to  doubt  whether  such  a 
simple  principle  as  faith,  and  that  so  weak,  can 
ever  spring  up  in  the  abundance  of  Christian  fruit- 
fulness  we  shall  one  day  attain  to.  But  what  if  this 
faith  be  a  senmial  principle,  as  the  seed  which  con- 
tains the  mighty  oak  }  Let  us  take  courage  in  the 
assurance  of  its  progressive  growth,  and  destined 
increase.  — Salter,  1840. 

6.  Without  It  no  other  grace  Is  acceptable  to 
God. 

(1901.)  O-f  all  the  virgins  presented  to  Ahasue- 
rus,  none  was  so  pleasing  as  Esther.  "  Let  the 
maiden  which  pleaseth  the  king  be  queen  instead  of 
Vashii."  When  that  decree  was  published,  what 
strife,  what  emulations  (may  we  think)  was  among 
the  I'ersian  damsels,  that  either  were,  or  thought 
themselves  to  be,  fair  1  Every  one  hopes  to  be  a 
queen  ;  but  so  incompan'ile  was  the  beauty  of  that 


Jewess,  that  she  is  not  only  taken  into  the  Persian 
court,  as  one  of  the  selected  virgins,  but  hath  the 
most  honourable  place  in  the  seraglio  allotted  to 
her.  The  other  virgins  pass  their  probation  unre- 
garded ;  when  Esther's  turn  came,  though  she 
brought  the  same  face  and  demeanour  that  nature 
had  cast  upon  her,  no  eye  sees  her  without  admira- 
tion. The  king  is  so  delighted  with  her  beauty, 
that,  contemning  all  the  more  vulgar  forms,  his 
choice  is  fully  fixed  upon  her.  Our  heavenly  King 
is  pleased  with  all  our  graces  :  hot  zeal  and  cool 
patience  pleaseth  Him  ;  cheerful  thankfulness  and 
weeping  repentance  pleaseth  Him  ;  charity  in  the 
height  and  humility  in  the  dust  pleaseth  Him  ;  but 
none  of  them  are  welcome  to  Him  without  faith,  as 
nothing  can  please  Him  without  Christ.  There  i? 
none  that  dares  venture  into  His  presence,  without 
faith  ;  she  is  that  Esther  to  which  God  holds  out 
His  golden  sceptre.  Adorn  thy  soul  with  this 
grace ;  "  so  shall  the  king  greatly  desire  thy 
beauty."  — Adams,  1653. 

7.  It  Is  the  faculty  whereby  we  realise  unseen 
things. 

(1902.)  Faith  is  seated  in  the  understanding,  as 
well  as  the  will.  It  has  an  eye  lo  see  Christ,  at 
well  as  a  wing  to  fly  to  Christ. 

—  Wat  sou,  1696. 

(1903.)  Faith  is  the  eye  of  the  soul,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit's  influence  is  the  light  by  which  it  is  seen. 
—  Toplady,  1 740-1 778. 

(T904.)  Consider  what  impressions  we  gain  from 
the  sense  of  touch.  It  is  touch  wliich,  more  than 
any  other  sense,  convinces  us  of  the  reality  of 
matter.  What  you  see  might  be  merely  a  phantom, 
an  optical  illusion,  a  picture  painted  on  the  retina 
of  the  eye,  and  nothing  more  ;  but  if  you  go  up  to 
the  thing  you  see,  and  touch  it,  and  handle  it,  you 
become  assured  of  its  existence,  you  know  that  it  is 
substantial.  Now  what  is  faith  !  It  may  be  de- 
fined as  the  faculty  by  which  we  realise  unseen 
things — such  as  the  Being  and  Presence  of  God, 
the  work  which  our  Lord  did  for  us,  the  future 
judgment,  the  future  recompense  of  the  righteous, 
and  the  like  unsei-n  things. 

I  say  the  faculty  (not  by  which  we  conceive,  but) 
by  which  we  realise  these  things,  feel  them  to  have 
a  body  and  a  substance.  To  imagine  the  truths  of 
religion  is  not  to  believe  them.  We  may  from 
time  to  time  imagine  God  as  He  is  in  heaven,  sur- 
rounded by  myriads  of  glorious  angels, — we  may 
imagine  Christ  looking  down  upon  us  from  God's 
right  hand,  interceding  for  us,  calling  us  to  account 
at  the  last  day,  and  awarding  to  us  our  final  doom  ; 
but  the  mere  picturing  these  things  to  ourselves  is 
not  the  same  thing  as  believing  them  ;  the  believ- 
ing them  is  the  having  such  a  conviction  of  tiieir 
reality,  as  to  live  under  their  influence,  and  to  be 
in  some  measure,  at  least,  governed  by  them.  In 
short,  to  imai^itie  the  truths  of  religion  is  like  sur- 
veying things  by  the  eye  ;  to  beliez'e  in  the  truths  of 
religion  is  like  grasping  the  same  things  with  the 
hand,  and  thus  proving  them  to  have  substance 
and  consistency.  — Goulbum. 

8.  By  It  we  are  enabled  to  triumph  over  doubts. 

(1905.)  The  eye  of  true  faith  is  so  qiick-sighted. 
that  it  can  see  through  all  the  mists  and  fogs  of 
difliculties.  — Adams,  1653. 


FAITH. 


(    331    ) 


FAITH. 


(1906.)  Faith  makeo  the  discords  of  the  present 
{he  harmonies  of  the  future.  — Robei-t  Collyer. 

(1907.)  We  may  observe  that  we  have  three 
ascent  ling  degrees  of  faith,  manifesting  itself  in  the 
breaking  througii  of  liindrances  which  would  keep 
from  Cluist  in  tlie  paralytic  (Mark  ii.  4),  the  blind 
men  at  Jericho  (Mark  x.  48),  and  this  woman  of 
Can;ian.  The  paralytic  broke  through  the  outward 
hirulrances  of  tilings  merely  external;  blind  Bar- 
tinuvus,  through  the  hindrances  opposed  by  his 
fellow-men  ;  and  this  wijman,  nioie  heroically  than 
all,  tlirougli  apparent  hindrances  even  from  Christ 
Himself  These  in  their  seeming  weakness  were 
the  three  mighty  ones,  not  of  David,  but  of  David's 
Son,  that  broke  through  the  hosts  of  the  enemy, 
until  they  could  draw  living  water  from  the  wells  of 
salvation.  — Trench. 

9.  It  enables  no  to  exercise  a  wise  foresight. 

(1908.)  Faith  doth  not  only  enable  the  soul  to  see 
the  nature  of  all  sin  void  of  true  treasure,  but  also 
how  transient  its  false  pleasures  are  :  "  I  will  not 
lose,  saith  faith,  sure  mercies,  for  transient  uncer- 
tain pk;asures."  This  made  Moses  leap  out  of  the 
pleasures  of  tiie  Egyptian  court,  into  the  fire  of 
affliction,  because  he  saw  them  "  pleasures  for  a 
season."  Should  you  see  a  man  in  a  ship,  throw 
himself  overboard  into  the  sen,  you  might  at  first 
think  him  out  of  his  wits,  but  if  a  little  while  after 
you  should  see  him  stand  safe  on  the  shore,  and  the 
ship  swallowed  up  of  the  waves,  you  would  then 
think  he  took  the  wisest  course.  Faith  sees  the 
world,  and  all  the  pleasures  of  sin  sinking  ;  there  is 
a  leak  in  them  which  the  wit  of  man  cannot  stop. 
—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

10.  It  enables  us  to  walk  safaly. 

(1909.)  O  faith  !  O  gift  of  God  1  O  divine  torch 
which  comes  to  clear  up  darkness,  how  necessary 
art  thou  to  man.  .  .  .  O  pillar  of  fire,  at  the  same 
time  so  obscure  and  so  luminous,  of  what  import- 
ance is  it  that  thou  always  conductest  the  camp  of 
the  Lord,  the  tabernacle  and  the  tents  of  Israel, 
through  all  the  perils  of  the  desert,  the  rocks,  the 
temptations,  and  the  dark  and  unknown  paths  of 
this  life?  — AJdssilion. 

11.  It  opens  tlie  promises. 

(1910.)  Faith  is  the  key  that  unlocks  the  cabinet 
of  the  promises,  and  empties  out  their  treasures  into 
the  soul.  — l^Va/son,  1696. 

12.  It  gives  calmness  In  trial  and  danger. 
(1911.)   Faith    has   an    eagle's   eye   and    a   lion's 

1-eart.      It  has  a  lion's  heart   to  bear  present  evils, 
and  it  has  an  eagle's  eye  to  see  future  good. 

— Robinson,  1559. 

(1912.)  Many  animals  act  and  are  acted  upon  by 
fancy  :  so  it  is  fancy  in  men  that  makes  them  fear 
where  no  fear  is  ;  dreading  the  danger,  not  trusting 
the  Deliverer.  The  sheep  at  first  sight  of  the  wolf, 
apprehentls  him  for  a  terrible  object,  naturally  fears 
and  tlees  liim  :  the  lion  feels  no  terror,  but  i)a'>seth 
by  him  with  an  honourable  scorn.  A  malkin  frights 
a  child,  a  man  contemns  it.  Elisha's  servant  quakes 
at  the  Syhan  army,  no  fear  invades  the  prophet. 
He  saw,  and  caused  his  man  to  jee,  a  greater  De- 
liverer above.      In  the  street  we  see  men  walk  in 


their  equal  stature  and  dimensions  ;  they  on  a  high 
turret  appear  little  to  us.  Stand  on  a  promontory, 
they  with  you  are  great,  they  beneath  you  seem 
small  :  the  situation  of  tlie  eye  makes  or  mars  all. 
So  it  is  with  men  in  the  time  of  trouble  ;  if  their 
eyes  be  fixed  on  earth,  their  enemies  appear  great, 
and  Goil  that  is  so  high  seems  little.  Let  our  eyes 
be  in  heaven,  and  from  thence  look  down  upon  our 
enemies,  God  will  then  appear  mighty,  our  foes 
weak  and  conteinptible.  This  was  Jehoshaphat's 
conlklence.  "  'I'here  is  no  strength  in  us  to  stand 
against  this  multitude ;  but  our  eyes  are  upon 
Thee"  (2  Chron.  xx.  12).  ...  We  are  all  weak; 
in  this  mighty  Deliverer  be  our  confidence.  When 
little  children  first  learn  to  go,  feeling  their  own 
feebleness,  they  thrust  out  a  hand  to  the  wall  to 
stay  them.  Our  strength  is  but  like  children's; 
"Our  help  is  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

— Adams,  1653. 

(1913.)  ITaply  those  monstrous  sons  of  Lamech 
came  to  Noah  and  asked  him  what  he  intended  by 
that  strange  work  ;  whether  he  meant  to  sail  upon 
the  dry  land?  to  whom  he  relates  (iod's  purjiose, 
and  his  own.  They  go  laughing  away  at  his  idle- 
ness, and  tell  one  another  in  sjiort,  that  too  much 
holiness  hath  made  him  mad  ;  that  instead  of  a 
palace,  he  was  building  a  prison  ;  and  because  other 
men  delighted  in  castles  of  stone,  he  (to  be  cross  to 
the  world)  would  ha\e  a  house  of  wood.  Yet  can- 
not all  this  flout  Noah  out  of  his  faith  :  still  he 
preaches,  and  builds,  and  finishes.  And  when  all 
they,  like  ghastly  wretches,  lay  sprawling  on  the 
merciless  waves,  he  lies  safe  at  the  anchor  of  hope 
and  peace.  The  faith  of  the  righteoiis  cannot  be 
so  much  derided,  as  their  success  is  magnified. 
How  securely  doth  he  ride  out  of  this  universal 
uproar,  of  heavens,  earths,  waters,  elements!  He 
hears  the  pouring  down  of  the  rain  above  his  head  ; 
the  shrieking  of  men,  women,  and  children,  roaring 
and  bellowing  of  beasts  on  every  side  ;  the  rage  of 
the  waves  under  him  :  he  saw  the  miserable  shifts 
of  the  distressed  unbelievers  ;  and  now,  in  the  midst 
'of  all,  sits  quietly  in  his  dry  cabin,  not  feeling  evil. 
\\t  knew  that  the  great  Master  of  the  worKl,  whose 
judgments  now  overflowed  the  earth,  would  steer 
him  in  these  deep  waters  ;  and  that  the  same  hand 
which  shut  him  up,  would  preserve  him. 

Let  me  here  again  commend  to  you  the  blessed- 
ness of  faith  :  what  a  sweet  security  and  heavenly 
peace  doth  it  work  in  the  soul,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  inundations  of  evils  !  This  is  the  adamant  which 
nothing  will  break  ;  the  palm  that  sinks  not  under 
the  weightiest  burden;  the  oil  that  everoverswims  the 
greatest  quantity  of  water  that  can  be  poured  on  it ; 
the  sheet-anchor  that  holds  when  all  other  tacklings 
break.  The  day  of  fire  shall  be  more  terrible  and 
universal  than  was  the  day  of  water  ;  this  defaced 
earth,  that  shall  melt  the  heavens.  Yet  still  faith 
finds  an  ark,  not  of  combustible  wood,  but  of  in- 
dissoluble strength  ;  it  is  the  opened  side  of  Jesus 
Christ.  There,  when  the  earth  is  burning  under 
her,  heaven  above  her,  the  elements  about  her,  re- 
probates shrieking  beside  her,  death  and  hell  trem- 
bling below  her,  she  shall  find  assurance  and  peace  ; 
and  at  last  be  metamorphosed  into  that  blesscfi 
vision,  and  eternal  fruition  of  such  joys;  to  which 
His  mercy  brings  us,  that  they  then  may  be  known 
unto  us.     Amen.  —Adams,  1653. 

(1914.)  Faith  is  like  a  bee ;  it  will  suck  sweetneis 


FAITH. 


(    532    ) 


FAITH. 


out  of  every  flower ;  it  will  extract  light  out  of 
darkness,  comforts  out  of  distresses,  mercies  out  of 
miseries,  wine  out  of  water,  honey  out  of  the  roclc, 
and  meat  out  of  the  eater.  — Brooks,  1680. 

(1915.)  Where  the  mind  is  stayed  on  God,  it 
will  be  kept  in  perfect  peace,  before  deliverance 
comes.     A  case  will  make  my  meaning  plain. 

I  suppose  you  fallen  into  great  distress,  and  a 
lawyer's  letter  is  received,  bringing  doleful  tidings 
that  your  person  will  be  seized  unless  your  debts 
are  paid  within  a  month.  While  the  letter  is  per- 
using, an  old  acquaintance  calls  upon  you,  sees  a 
gloom  upon  your  face,  and  asks  the  cause  of  it. 
You  put  the  letter  into  his  hand  :  he  reads,  and 
drops  a  friendly  tear.  After  some  little  pause,  he 
says,  "Old  friend,  I  have  not  cash  at  present  by 
me,  but  engage  to  pay  your  debts  before  the  month 
is  out."  Now,  if  you  tliought  this  person  was  not 
abi'e  to  discharge  your  debts,  or  not  to  be  7-elied  on, 
because  his  mind  was  fickle,  his  promise  would 
bring  no  relief,  because  it  gains  no  credit.  You 
have  no  faith  in  him.  But  if  you  knew  the  man 
was  able,  and  miglit  be  trusted,  his  promise  would 
relieve  you  instantly.  A  firm  reliance  on  his  word 
would  take  away  your  burden,  and  set  your  mind  at 
case,  before  the  debt  was  paid. 

Well,  if  a  firm  reliance  on  the  word  of  man  has 
this  sweet  influence  on  the  heart,  a  firm  reliance  on 
the  Word  of  God  will  have  the  same. 

— Bevendge,  1716-1793. 

(1916.)  Not  many  years  since  a  number  of  work- 
men were  engaged  in  constructing  a  railway  tunnel. 
In  the  midst  of  their  work  there  was  a  sudden  fall  of 
earth,  which  completely  closed  the  entrance,  and 
shut  them  up  from  the  outer  world.  Their  com- 
rades outside,  as  soon  as  they  discovered  what  had 
happened,  began  digging  through  the  mass  of  earth. 
It  was  many  hours  before  the  task  was  accom- 
plished. They  found  them  quietly  pursuing  their 
labour  inside  the  tunnel.  Tlieir  work  had  never 
been  interrupted.  They  had  eaten  their  dinner, 
and  gone  on  digging  and  boring.  They  knew,  they 
said,  that  their  fellow-workmen  would  rescue  them  ; 
and  so  they  went  on  with  their  labour.  Transfer 
their  state  of  mind  to  the  Christian  in  his  perplexi- 
ties, and  we  see  exactly  what  practical  faith  is. 
Faith  teaches  the  believer,  in  the  midst  of  the 
severest  difficulty,  not  to  set  about  forcing  a  way 
out  of  his  trouble,  but  just  to  ply  his  pickaxe  and 
spade  in  the  work  which  is  straight  before  him, 
leaving  it  to  the  Father  above  to  make  a  way  of 
escape  for  him.  In  the  right  manner,  and  at  the 
right  moment,  the  help  comes,  and  the  Christian 
goes  on  his  way  once  more  rejoicing. 

— Hooper. 

(1917.)  What  cares  the  child  when  the  mother 
rocks  it,  though  all  storms  beat  without  ?  So  we, 
if  God  doth  shield  and  tend  us,  shall  be  heedless  of 
the  tempests  and  blasts  of  life,  blow  they  never  so 
rudely.  — Beeclier. 

(1918.)  There  is  a  view  of  God  by  which  we  may 
be  lifted  up  into  such  a  serene  vision,  such  a  glori- 
ous aspect,  of  a  loving  and  forgiving  God,  that  the 
soul  says,  "  Thou  art  the  Chief  among  ten  thou- 
sand, the  One  altogether  lovely.  Whom  have  I  in 
heaven  but  Thee  ?  There  is  none  upon  earth  that  I 
desire  beside  Thee.  Thou  art  my  portion  and  my 
God."     There  is  such  a  view  possible,  and  there  is 


such  a  view  frequently  given.  It  is  offered  to  all  j 
and  it  is  offered  never  more  than  in  times  of  dis- 
tress. It  is  a  view  of  God  that  compensales 
everything  else,  and  enables  the  soul  to  rest  in  His 
bosom. 

How,  when  the  child  in  the  night  screams  with 
terror,  hearing  sounds  that  he  knows  not  of,  is  that 
child  comforted  and  put  to  rest?  Is  it  by  a  philoso- 
pliical  explanation  that  the  sounds  were  made  by 
the  rats  in  the  partition?  Is  it  by  an  impaiting  of 
entomological  knowledge?  No  ;  it  is  by  the  mother 
taking  the  child  in  her  lap,  and  singip<i  sweetly  to 
it,  and  rocking  it.  And  the  child  tl:in..s  nothing  of 
the  explanation,  but  only  of  the  mother. 

Now,  it  pleases  God  to  take  in  His  arms  and 
bosom  those  that  love  Him  and  put  their  trust  in 
Him.  And  that  which  comforts  them  and  gives 
them  rest  is  not  so  much  this  or  that  or  the  other 
thing  which  they  can  understand,  as  this:  "  tlod 
has  enfolded  me,  and  what  can  harm  me?  If  God 
be  for  me,  who  can  be  against  me?"  There  is  in 
this  infinite  peace,  if  one  can  stay  there.  There  is 
not  the  storm  in  all  the  world  that  can  blow  to  his 
shipwreck,  or  to  his  disturbance,  who  abides  in  such 
a  feeling.  — Beeclier. 

(1919.)  Birdie  was  only  four  years  old,  but  she 
had  already  been  taught  that  God  loved  her,  and 
always  took  care  of  her.  One  day  there  was  a  verj 
heavy  thunderstorm,  and  Birdie's  sisters  and  mamma 
even  laid  by  their  sewing,  and  drew  their  chairs 
into  the  middle  of  the  room,  pale  and  trembling 
with  fear.  But  Birdie  stood  close  by  the  window, 
watching  the  storm  with  bright  eyes. 

"O  mamma!  a'n't  that  bu'fu!"  she  ( ried, 
clapping  her  hands  with  delight,  as  a  vivid  flash 
of  hgiitning  burst  from  the  black  clouds,  and  the 
thunder  pealed  and  rattled  over  their  heafis. 

"It  is  God'.s  voice,  Birdie,"  said  mamma,  and 
her  own  voice  trembled. 

"  He  talks  velly  loud,  don't  He,  mamma?  S'pose 
it's  so  as  deaf  Betsey  can  hear,  and  the  uver  deaf 
folks." 

"  O  Birdie,  dear,  come  straight  away  from  that 
window,"  said  one  of  her  sisters,  whose  cheeks  wtre 
blanched  with  fear. 

"What  for?"  asked  Birdie. 

"  Oh  !  because  the  lightning  is  so  sharp,  and  it 
thunders  so  loud." 

But  Birdie  shook  her  head,  and  looking  over 
her  shoulder  with  a  happy  smile  on  her  face,  lisped 
out : 

"  If  it  funders,  let  it  funder  !  'Tis  CJod  makes  it 
funder,  and  He'll  take  care  of  me.  I  a'n't  a  bit 
afraid  to  hear  God  talk,  Maizy." 

Was  not  Birdie's  faith  beautiful?  Mamma  and 
sisters  did  not  soon  forget  the  lesson. 

IS.  It  Is  our  safeguard  In  temptation. 

( 1920. )  An  anchor  being  let  fall,  it  passeth  through 
the  water,  and  violently  maketh  its  way  through  all 
the  waves  and  billows,  never  staying  till  it  come  at 
the  bottom,  where,  taking  hold  of  the  ground  tliat 
lieth  out  of  sight,  thus  by  a  secret  and  hidden  force 
staying  the  shiij,  so  as  though  it  be  nio\ed,  yet  it  is 
not  removed,  but  still  kee):)eth  her  station.  Of  such 
use  is  faith  to  the  soul  of  man.  When  it  is  in  a 
stress,  tossed  with  the  waves  and  billows.. of  tempta- 
tions and  trials,  threatening  to  swallow  it  up,  faith 
breaks  through  all,  never  resting  till  it  come  at  God 
Himself,    who    is   invisible,  and  taking  hold  upon 


FAITH. 


(    333    ) 


FAITH. 


Him  by  a  secret  force  it  stayeth  the  soul,  and  keepeth 
it  from  being  driven  upon  the  rocks  or  sands  of 
desperntion.  An  anchor  it  is,  and  a  sure  anchor, 
Ihnt  sheet  anchor  wliich  the  soul  must  trust  to, 
v\hich  it  may  ride  and  live  by  in  whatsoever  stress 
can  come  down  upon  it, 

— Calvin,  1 509-1 564. 

(1921.)  When  Christ  saw  how  Peter  should  be 
tempted.  He  tells  him  that  He  had  prayed  that  his 
faith  should  not  fail  (Luke  xxii.  32),  noting  that 
while  his  faitli  held,  all  would  be  sure.  Faith  in 
this  case  is  like  the  cork  that  is  upon  the  net — 
though  the  lead  on  the  one  side  sink  it  down,  yet 
the  cotk  on  the  other  side  keeps  it  up  in  the  water. 
— Ambrose,  1564. 

(1922.)  Faith  is  absolutely  necessary  for  resist- 
ance. A  man  cannot  fight  upon  a  quagmire.  There 
is  no  standing  out  without  a  standing,  some  firm 
ground  to  tread  upon  ;  and  this  faith  alone  fur- 
nishes. It  lifts  the  soul  up  to  the  firm  advanced 
ground  of  tJie  promises  and  fastens  it  there,  and 
there  it  is  sure,  even  as  Mount  Zion  that  cannot 
be  removed.  The  apostle  says,  not  steadfast  by 
your  own  resolutions  and  pur]5oses,  but  steadfast  by 
faith  (l  Pet.  v.  9).  When  the  soul  is  surrounded 
with  enemies  on  all  hands,  so  that  there  is  no  way 
of  escape,  faith  flies  above  them,  and  carries  up  the 
soul  to  take  refuge  in  Christ,  where  it  is  safe.  It 
sets  a  soul  in  Christ,  and  there  it  looks  down  on  all 
temptation.s,  as  at  the  bottom  of  the  rock,  breaking 
themselves  into  foam.  When  the  floods  of  tempta- 
tion rise  and  gather,  so  great  and  many  that  the 
soul  IS  even  ready  to  be  swallowed  up,  then  by  faith 
it  says,  "Lord  Jesus,  Thou  art  my  strength,  I  look 
to  Thee  for  deliverance  ;  now  appear  for  my  help." 
And  thus  it  overcomes  the  guik  of  sin  ;  that  is  an- 
swered by  Ills  blooil,  and  the  power  of  sin  is  con- 
quered by  His  Spirit  ;  and  afflictions  that  arise  are 
nothing  to  these.  His  love  and  gracious  presence 
makes  them  sweet  and  easy. 

— Leighton,  1611-1684. 

14.  It  saves  us  from  despair. 

(1923.)  A  ship  that  lies  at  anchor  may  be  some- 
thing tossed,  but  yet  it  still  remains  so  fastened  that 
it  cannot  be  carried  away  by  wind  or  weather.  The 
soul,  after  it  has  cast  anclior  u]ion  God,  may,  as  we 
see  in  David,  be  disquieted  awhile,  but  this  un.sett- 
ling  tends  to  a  deejjer  settling.  The  more  we  be- 
lieve, the  more  we  are  established. 

— Sibbes,  1 577-1635. 

(1924,)  Faith  is  a  sheet  anchor  we  cast  into  the 
sea  of  God's  mercy,  and  by  it  we  are  kept  from 
•inking  in  despair.  — It^aison,  i6g6, 

(1925.)  An  able  seaman  once  said  to  me,  "In 
fierce  storms  we  have  but  one  resource  ;  we  keep 
the  ship  in  a  certain  position  :  we  cannot  act  in  any 
way  but  this  ;  we  fix  her  head  to  the  wind  ;  ami,  in 
this  way,  we  weather  the  storm."  This  is  a  picture 
of  the  Christian  :  he  endeavours  to  put  himself  in 
a  certain  position  :  "  My  hope  and  help  are  in  God  : 
He  is  faithful:  'weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,' 
but  '  I  will  bear  the  indignation  of  the  Lord.'  "  The 
man  who  has  learnt  this  piece  of  heavenly  naviga- 
tion shall  vveather  the  storms  of  time  and  of  eternity  ; 
for  he  trusts  a  faithful  God,  and  he  shall  find  Him 
faithful.     This  confidence  has  supported  thousands 


in  perilous  situations,  where  others  would  have  given 
up  all  in  despair.  — CeczY,  1743-1810. 

(1926.)  There  are  trying  circumstances  in  which 
the  only  safety  or  confidence  of  a  believer  rest  in 
walking  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight  ;  in  believing 
what  the  poet  sings,  liow  "behind  a  frowning  pro- 
vidence," God  hides  a  smiling  face. 

In  ascending  a  lofty  mountain,  standing  high 
above  all  its  fellows,  which  the  sun  is  the  first  to 
reach  and  the  last  to  leave,  I  have  seen  the  rock 
that  crowned  it  cleft  with  storm,  and  its  summit  all 
naked  and  bare  ;  and  so,  sometimes  those  who  rise 
highest,  and  live  nearest  to  God,  whose  heads  are 
most  in  heaven,  have  often  the  bitterest  cup  to  drink, 
and  the  heaviest  burden  to  bear.  What  are  they  to 
do  under  such  circumstances?  I  have  known  a 
timid  traveller  whose  route  lay  across  the  Higher 
Alps,  along  a  path  no  broader  than  a  mule's  foot- 
hold, that  skirted  a  dreadful  precipice,  whence  could 
be  discerned  the  river  far  down  below  diminished 
to  a  silver  thread  ;  and  on  that  dizzy  precipice  I 
have  known  a  timid  traveller  who  fancied  it  safest 
to  shut  her  eyes,  and  not  attempt  to  guide  the 
course,  nor  touch  the  bridle — a  fatal  touch  that 
would  throw  steed  and  rider  over — till,  bounding 
from  shelf  to  shelf,  they  lay  a  niangled  mass  in  the 
valley  below.  And  there  are  times  and  circum- 
stances in  the  believer's  life  when,  if  he  would  keep 
himself  from  sinful  debts,  if  he  would  keep  himself 
from  falling  into  despair,  he  must,  as  it  were,  shut 
his  eyes,  lay  the  bridle  on  the  neck  of  Providence, 
commit  his  way  to  God,  and,  however  things  may 
look,  make  this  his  comfort,  "He  will  never  leave 
me,  nor  forsake  me."  — Guthrie. 

15.  It  gives  prevalency  to  prayer. 

(1927.)  In  the  several  precedents  of  praying 
saints  upon  Scripture  record,  you  may  see  how  the 
s])irit  of  prayer  ebbed  and  (lowed,  fell  and  rose  as 
their  faith  was  up  and  down.  This  made  David 
press  so  hard  upon  God  in  the  day  of  his  distress  : 
"1  believed,  tlieiefore  I  sjiake,  I  was  greatly 
afP.icted."  This  made  the  woman  of  Canaan  so 
invincibly  importunate  ;  let  Christ  frown  and  chide, 
deny  and  rebuke  her,  she  yet  makes  her  approaches 
nearer  and  nearer,  gathering  arguments  from  His 
very  denials,  as  if  a  soldier  should  shoot  his  enemy's 
bullets  back  upon  him  again  ;  and  Christ  tells  us 
what  kept  up  her  spirit  undaunted:  "O  woman, 
great  is  thy  faith  1 " 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

16.  It  stimulate?  to  endeavour. 

(1928.)  See  the  spider  casting  out  her  film  tc  the 
gale,  she  feels  persuaded  that  somewhere  or  other  it 
will  adhere  and  form  the  commencement  of  her  web. 
-She  commits  the  slender  filament  to  the  breeze,  be- 
lieving that  there  is  a  place  provided  for  it  to  fix 
itself.  In  this  fashiotr  should  we  beJievingly  cast 
forth  our  endeavours  in  tliis  life,  confident  that  God 
will  find  a  place  for  us.  He  who  bids  us  pray  and 
work  will  aid  our  efforts  and  guide  us  in  His  Provi- 
dence in  a  right  way.  Sit  not  still  in  despair,  O 
son  of  toil,  but  again  cast  out  the  floating  thread  of 
hopeful  endeavour,  and  the  wind  of  love  will  bear  it 
to  its  resting-place.  — Spurgeon, 

17.  It  brings  deliverance. 

(1929.)  Beloved,  ye  ail  see  into  what  sad  times 
we  are  now  fallen  :  there  is  no  grace,  I  say,  wiU 


FAITH. 


K    33+    ) 


FA.  TH. 


stand  us  in  more  stead,  or  more  able  to  turn  away 
the  evil  that  is  now  upon  us,  than  faith  is.  Luther 
hath  a  notable  stor)'  to  this  purpose  :  There  was, 
saith  he,  a  deadly  contest  between  a  great  bishop, 
and  a  duke  of  Saxony  :  the  duke  of  Saxony  pre- 
pares for  war  against  him  :  but  before  he  would 
come  upon  him,  he  sends  a  spy  to  observe  what  the 
bishop  was  a-doing.  The  spy  went :  and  being  re- 
turned again;  "Come,"  says  the  duke,  "what  is 
the  bishop  a-doing?"  "Sir,"  says  he,  "  he  is  idle, 
and  secure,  you  may  fall  upon  him  and  destroy  him 
when  you  will."  "Ay,"  says  he,  "but  what  says 
the  bishop?"  "Sir,"  he  says  thus:  "I  will  feed 
my  flock,  I  will  visit  the  sick,  I  will  preach  the 
gospel  ;  and  as  for  the  war,  I  will  commit  the  whole 
weight  and  bulk  of  this  war  to  God  Himself,  who 
fightcth  for  m.e."  "  Ay,"  says  the  duke,  "did  the 
bishop  say  so?  Then,"  says  he,  "let  the  devil 
take  up  arms  against  him  if  he  will,  for  I  will 
not."     Thus  faith  turns  away  the  sword. 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

IS.  It  Is  the  secret  of  all  heroic  enterprises. 

(1930.)  History  furnishes  numerous  illustrations. 
Christopher  Columbus,  if  we  have  a  right  under- 
standing of  his  personal  character,  was  a  man  of 
a  self-controlled  and  quiet  spirit.  The  foundation 
of  this  subdued  and  immovable  calmness  of  spirit, 
which  supp(  rted  him  under  immense  labours,  de- 
privations, and  sufferings,  was  faith,  undoubtedly. 
And  it  is  very  possible  that  it  was,  to  a  considerable 
degree  at  least,  natural  faith.  That  is  to  say,  he  had 
faith  in  his  mathematical  and  geographical  deduc- 
tions ;  he  had  faith  in  his  personal  skill  as  a  naviga- 
tor ;  he  had  laith  in  his  own  physical  and  intellectual 
resources  ;  he  had  faith  in  his  personal  influence  over 
minds  of  less  power ;  he  had  faith  in  his  integrity 
of  purpose.  He  felt,  therefore,  that  he  stood  on 
a  strong  foundation  ;  and  this  inward  conviction, 
strengthened  perhaps  in  some  degree  by  religious 
sentiments,  imparted  both  inwardly  and  outwardly 
that  self-possessed  and  delightful  calmness  of  spirit 
and  manner,  which  is  one  of  the  surest  indices  of 
true  greatness.  — Up  ham. 

(1931.)  Everywhere  we  find  it  to  be  true,  that 
faith  gives  power.  The  history,  for  instance,  of 
mechanical  inventions,  and  of  scientific  improve- 
ments generally,  furnishes  an  illustration  of  the  sub- 
ject. The  labours  of  niany  persons,  labours  to  which 
we  are  indelited  for  many  of  the  most  astonishing 
resul'.s  in  the  mechanic  arts  and  in  the  sciences, 
have  been  perseveringly  and  successfully  prosecuted 
under  circumstances  of  want,  of  opposition,  and  of 
ridicule.  Nothing  seemed  sufficient  to  stop  their 
efforts.  And  the  inquiry  naturally  arises  here,  what 
was  the  secret  of  this  remarkable  perseverance,  of 
this  great  energy,  under  circumstances  exceedingly 
trying  ?  Whatever  incidental  influences  may  have 
existed,  one  thing  is  certain,  that  one  great  element 
of  their  energy  and  perseverance  was  Faith.  They 
had  faith  in  the  value  of  the  object ;  they  had  faith 
in  the  possibility  of  its  being  ascertained  and  rea- 
lised ;  they  had  faith  also  in  their  ability  to  accom- 
plish what  they  had  undertaken  to  do.  This  was 
the  secret  (we  do  not  say  exclusively,  but  certainly 
in  a  very  great  degree),  of  their  indomitable  strength. 
When,  therefore,  at  distant  periods,  we  find  indivi- 
duals arising  perhaps  from  the  humblest  walks  of 
life,    and   acconplishing    by   their    almost    unaided 


efforts  great  results  in  science  and  the  arts,  the 
Franklins  and  Fultons  of  their  generation,  we  may 
be  assured  that  the  element  of  natural  faith,  if  not 
of  any  other  and  higher  kind  of  faith,  has  sustained 
and  invigorated  the  conceptions  and  efforts  of  natural 
genius.  — Upliam. 

19.  It  ennobles  the  whole  llf  3. 

(1932.)  One  of  the  most  piteous  of  things  is  to 
see  how  men  live.  I  do  not  mean  barbarians.  I 
mean  intelligent  men.  I  mean  men  brought  up  by 
much  care  and  culture.  The  world  is  piteous  to 
live  in,  if  this  is  the  only  world.  If  there  is  nothing 
but  what  is  here,  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  aspiring 
mind  cries  out,  "  We  are  of  all  men  most  miserable." 
But  a  Christian  man,  under  precisely  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, has  a  ground  transcendently  higher. 
For  if  there  be  nothing  for  him  that  suits  his  ambi- 
tion, or  his  yearnings,  or  his  wants,  here,  he  has  the 
land  beyond.  He  knows  that  he  is  but  a  stranger 
and  pilgrim  ;  and  he  comforts  himself,  as  he  goes 
through  the  wilderness,  thinking  of  the  home  toward 
which  he  is  travelling.  And  he  weaves  tapestries, 
and  paints  pictures,  and  carves  various  creations. 
Living  as  he  does  by  faith,  and  not  merely  by  sight, 
his  imagining,  his  picture-painting,  his  idealising, 
his  holy  reverie,  is  filling  the  great  empty  heavens 
with  all  conceivable  beauty.  And  what  if  it  be 
evanescent  ?  So  is  the  wondrous  frost-picture  on 
the  window;  but  is  it  not  beautiful,  and  worth 
having?  So  is  the  summer  dew  upon  the  flower; 
but  is  it  not  renewed  night  by  night?  And  faith  is 
given  to  man  to  lift  him  above  the  carnal,  the  dull, 
the  sodden,  and  to  enable  him  to  conceive  beyond 
that  to  which  any  earthly  realisation  has  yet  ever 
attained.  — Be.cher. 

(t933.)  A  transcendent  faith,  a  cheerful  trust, 
turns  the  darkness  of  night  into  a  pillar  of  fire,  and 
the  cloud  by  day  into  a  perpetual  gloiy.  They_  who 
thus  march  on  are  refreshetl  even  in  the  wilderness, 
and  hear  streams  of  gladness  trickling  among  the 
rocks.  — Chapm. 

20.  It  g-lves  calmness  In  death. 

(1934.)  When  in  your  last  hour  (think  of  this)  all 
faculty  in  the  broken  spirit  shall  fade  away  and  sink 
into  inanity — imagination,  thougiit,  effort,  enjoy- 
ment— then  will  the  flower  of  belief,  which  blossom* 
even  in  the  night,  remain  to  refresh  you  with  its 
fragrance  in  the  last  darkness.  — Kichier, 

IV.    SAVING   FAITH. 

1.  Its  nature. 

{1935.)  Every  one  that  assents  to  the  truth  of 
what  the  Scriptures  saith  of  Christ  doth  not  believe 
on  Christ.  No,  this  believing  on  Christ  implies  an 
union  of  the  soul  to  Christ,  and  fiduciary  recum- 
bency on  Christ.  Therefore  we  are  bid  to  take 
hold  of  Christ  (Isa.  xxvii.  5),  who  is  there  called 
God's  strength,  as  elsewhere  His  arm,  "that  we 
may  make  peace  with  God,  and  we  shall  make 
peace  with  Him."  It  is  not  the  sight  of  a  man's 
arm  stretched  out  to  a  man  in  the  water  will  save 
him  from  drowning,  but  the  taking  hold  of  it. 

Gumall,  161 7-1679. 

(1936.)  Judas  knew  tlie  Scriptures,  and  without 
doubt  did  assent  to  the  truth  of  them,  when  he  was 
so  zealous  a  preacher  of  the  gospel;  but  lie   never 


FAITH. 


(    33S    ) 


faith: 


had  so  much  as  one  drachm  of  justifying  faith  in  his 
soul.  "There  are  some  of  you  which  believe  not, 
for  Jesus  knew  from  the  beginning  who  they  were 
that  believed  not,  and  who  should  betray  Him. " 
Yea,  Judas's  master,  the  devil  himself,  one  far 
enough  (1  suppose)  from  justifying  faith,  yet  he 
assents  to  the  truth  of  the  Word,  lie  goes  against 
his  conscience  when  he  denies  them  :  when  he 
tempted  Christ  he  did  not  dispute  against  the  Scrip- 
ture but  from  the  Scripture,  drawing  his  arrows  out 
of  this  quiver  (Matt.  iv.  6).  And  at  another  time 
he  makes  as  full  a  confession  of  Christ  (for  the 
matter)  as  Peter  himself  did  (Matt.  viii.  22,  com- 
pared with  Malt.  xvi.  17).  Assent  to  the  truth  of 
the  Word  is  but  an  act  ol  the  understanding,  which 
reprobates  and  devils  may  exercise.  But  justifying 
faith  is  a  compounded  habit,  and  hath  its  seat  both 
in  the  understanding  and  will  :  and,  therefore,  called 
a  "believing  with  the  heart"  (Rom.  x.  10),  yea,  a 
"believing  with  all  the  heart"  (Acts  viii.  37).  It 
takes  in  all  the  powers  of  the  soul.  There  is  a 
double  object  in  the  promise;  one  proper  to  the 
understanding,  to  move  that  ;  another  to  the  will, 
to  excite  and  work  upon  that.  As  the  promise  is 
true,  so  it  calls  for  an  act  of  assent  from  the  under- 
standing ;  and  as  it  is  good  as  well  as  true,  so  it 
calls  for  an  act  of  the  will  to  embrace  and  receive  it. 
Therefore  he  which  only  notionally  knows  the  pro- 
mise, and  speculatively  assents  to  the  truth  of  it, 
without  clinging  to  it,  and  embracing  of  it,  doth 
not  believe  savingly,  and  can  have  no  more  benefit 
from  the  promise  than  nourishment  from  the  food 
he  sees  ar,d  acknowledgeth  to  be  wholesome,  but 
eats  none  of  it.  — GumaH,  1617-1679. 

(1937.)  Ilowr  preferable  is  the  light  of  the  sun  to 
the  lustre  of  the  moon  !  The  former,  while  it  illu- 
minates the  eye,  and  uncovers  the  elegant  scenes  of 
creation,  warms  the  earth,  and  makes  it  fruitful, 
diffuses  cheerfulness,  and  imparts  enrichment  to  no 
fewer  than  six  primary,  and  ten  secondary  worlds. 
As  great  is  the  difference  between  a  cool  historical 
faith  that  floats  in  a  contemplative  head  and  the 
faith  of  God's  elect,  which  warms,  invigorates,  and 
purifies  the  mend)ers  of  Christ's  Church.  The  for- 
mer is  a  mere  moonlight  faith,  which,  however 
clear,  so  far  as  it  goes,  yet  leaves  us  as  cold  and  as 
barren  as  it  found  us.  The  latter,  like  the  solar 
communications,  enlivens  and  fertilises  the  soul, 
filling  it  with  joy  and  peace  through  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  ;  and  adorning  it  with  the  flowers 
and  fruits  of  grace.  — Salter. 

(1938.)  The  difference  between  common  and  true 
faith  may  be  thus  illustrated.  Supjxjse  two  persons 
to  have  been  informed  that  the  government  had 
pledged  itself  to  bestow  a  grant  of  ten  thousand 
acres  of  lan<i  at  the  Swan  River  to  any  one  who 
would  settle  there,  subject  to  certain  conditions  as 
to  capital  and  slock.  The  anni)uncement  is  re- 
ceivftd  by  both  parlies,  and  believed.  Hut  the  one 
is  not  moved  to  take  any  stejis  in  consequence  of  it, 
the  other  hastens  to  fulfil  the  conditions,  and  actu- 
ally goes  out  to  lake  possession  of  the  land.  So 
the  gospel  report,  and  the  blessings  it  is  ready  to 
bestow,  are  believed  on,  and  their  truth  is  not  ques- 
tioned by  the  nominal  professor  and  the  true  be- 
liever ;  but  the  one  is  not  influenced  to  adopt 
measures,  or  comply  with  the  terms  it  proposes,  in 
order  to  secure  its  bleskings  ;  but  he  who  has  the 


true  faith  takes  effectual  steps,  and  is  jareful  to  fulfil 
the  conditions  to  obtain  its  blessings.       — Salter. 

('939O  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  con- 
ception of  different  kinds  of  faith,  such  as  specu- 
lative and  practical,  historical  and  saving,  &c. ,  and, 
indeed,  all  the  notions  which  have  existed  with  re- 
ference to  a  difference  in  the  act  of  faith  itself,  as 
put  forth  by  a  real  Christian  and  a  mere  professor, 
owe  their  existence  to  a  desire  to  account  for  the 
different  effects  of  faith  on  different  individuals. 
There  are  two  men,  both  of  whom  appear  to  under- 
stand the  gospel,  and  both  profess  to  believe  it. 
The  conduct  of  one  is  regulated  by  its  precepts, 
while  that  of  the  other  is  not.  The  conclusion  has 
therefore  been  that  the  latter  individual  believes 
the  gospel  1)1  the  xoroiig  way,  or  has  not  the  right 
kind  of  faith  ;  whereas  the  conclusion  should  have 
been  that  he  believes  the  wroits;  gospel ;  or,  in  other 
words,  that  the  thing  believed  is  not  the  truth  as  it 
is  in  Jesus.  No  mistake  can  be  greater  than  th.it 
which  ascribes  the  difference  in  the  results  to  some 
difference  in  the  faith,  understanding  by  the  term 
the  act  of  believing.  For  the  practical  effect  of 
faith  is,  in  all  cases,  to  be  ascribed  not  to  the  act  of 
believing,  but  to  the  thing  believed.  I  believe,  we 
will  supjiose,  that  there  are  mountains  in  the  moon  ; 
the  belief  is  followed  by  no  results,  because  the 
truth,  to  which  credit  is  given,  is  not  adapted  to 
produce  any.  I  believe  that  the  roof  of  the  house 
in  which  I  am  sitting  is  about  to  fall  ;  I  immediately 
rush  out,  because  the  truth  credited  is  fitted  to 
excite  alarm,  and  precipitate  retreat.  I  believe 
that  God  hath  reconciled  the  world  to  Himself  by 
Christ  Jesus  ;  I  rejoice,  and  the  joy  springs  from 
the  report  itself.  It  is  not  to  be  traced  to  the  act  of 
faith  by  which  it  is  admitted  into  the  mind  ;  for  that 
is  the  only  instrument  by  which,  in  all  cases,  the 
truth  to  which  credit  is  given  is  brought  into  con- 
tact with  the  mind.  In  vision  it  is  the  thing  seen, 
and  not  the  act  of  seeing,  which  produces  the  effect 
upon  the  mind.  Just  so  it  is  in  believing.  It  is  the 
truth  perceived  and  believed,  and  not  the  act  of 
perceiving  or  believing  it,  that  effects,  in  the  hand 
of  the  Holy  .Spirit,  so  mighty  a  change  in  the  expe- 
rience anil  character  of  tlie  individual  who  receives 
it.  In  reference  to  the  three  cases  just  alluded  to, 
it  is  abundantly  manifest  that  faith  is  not  inert  in 
the  first  instance  and  active  in  the  second,  because 
the  approEching  fall  of  the  roo{ \s  cordially  believed  ; 
for,  if  there  were  cordiality  in  either  case,  it  would 
be  surely  in  the  former  and  not  in  the  latter.  And 
in  the  third  case,  though  there  is  cordiality,  that  is, 
though  the  reports  of  the  gospel  is  welcomed  into 
the  mind,  the  joy  which  subsequently  pervades  the 
mind  is  not  to  be  ascribed  to  the  manner  of  its 
entrance,  but  to  the  good  news  it  brings, 

— Fayne. 

(1940.)  We  all  remember  that  poor  man  whom 
Jesus  saw  at  Caf)ernaum  sitting  to  receive  taxes  and 
custom  duties.  Nothing  can  be  shorter  than  the 
story  as  it  stands  :  "He  saith  unto  him.  Follow  me, 
and  he  arose,  and  followed  Him."  But  1  think  it 
needs  little  sagacity  to  see  that  that  which  made  this 
puljlican  do  what  others  of  his  degraded  class 
thought  not  of  doing,  was  not  a  clearer  perception 
of  evidences  or  probabilities,  but  a  moral  difference. 
He  wished  to  become  other  than  he  was;  some 
dissatisfaction  which  his  present  state  had  broken 
down  the  hedges  which  usage  and  prudence  would 


FAITH. 


(    336    ) 


FAITH. 


mostly  interpose  against  such  a  desertion  of  the 
calling  by  whicli  one  lives.  Was  it  that  he  would 
no  more  minister  to  the  oppressor  above  him  who 
farmed  the  taxes,  and  grew  rich  out  of  the  people  ? 
Was  it  that  he  could  not  endure  the  scowls  of  those 
in  whose  wrongs  he  was  the  agent  ?  Was  it  that 
he  had  become  sensible,  from  what  he  had  heard  of 
Christ's  teaching,  of  the  need  of  something  better 
for  his  own  soul  than  what  his  miserable  vocation 
could  furnish  ?  At  all  events,  it  was  a  moral  cause, 
for  it  altered  at  once  all  his  life  and  prospects.  It 
was  not  that  he  changed  his  o[>inion  about  Christ, 
and  continued  in  other  respects  what  he  was  before. 
It  was  an  act  of  the  will,  and  a  strong  one,  which 
made  him  leave  his  office  and  his  means  of  support, 
and  cast  himself  upon  a  vague  future,  with  no  guide 
but  Christ.  This  example  serves  to  explain  the 
share  of  the  will  in  an  act  of  religious  faith.  Faith 
is,  as  it  has  been  objected,  an  intellectual  act  ;  but 
also  it  is  a  moral  act  in  the  next  degree.  How 
much  or  how  little  of  our  nature  shall  be  implicated 
in  our  belief  depends  not  on  the  nature  of  belief, 
but  upon  the  objects  of  it.  Last  week  we  believed 
in  an  eclipse  :  it  troubled  no  man's  rest,  it  quick- 
ened no  man's  hopes,  it  roused  no  fears,  as  it  might 
once  have  done.  There  was  nothing  in  that  object 
of  belief  to  go  down  to  the  heart.  Last  week  we 
thought  that  showers  of  cutting  sleet  would  fall,  and 
in  deference  to  our  belief  we  wrapped  another  gar- 
ment round  us,  or  planned  a  shorter  walk.  But  to 
believe  that  a  Father's  care  is  over  us,  and  that  a 
higher  life  is  waiting  for  us,  and  that  a  Son  has 
taught  us,  and  for  our  guilt  has  died,  and  that  a  life 
far  more  noble  and  beautiful  than  we  thought  is 
possible  for  us  even  here  !  Admit  such  thoughts  in 
all  their  force  of  truth  into  the  outer  hall  of  our 
understanding,  and  their  message  shall  ring  through 
every  passage  and  chamber,  awakening  them  that 
sleep,  and  quickening  with  new  strength  the  hands 
that  hang  down  in  despair.  Belief  is  mere  opinion  ! 
Yes;  but  a  belief  about  God  — about  a  Father  not 
yet  utterly  estranged  by  all  the  meanness,  selfishness, 
greedy  self-seeking  of  one  that  lie  will  still  call  His 
child — how  shall  such  belief  be  limited  to  the  mere 
understanding?  No;  the  whole  city  within  us  is 
moved  at  His  coming.  Affections,  feelings,  bitter 
shames  and  regrets,  fond  longings  after  something 
belter,  all  stir  and  troop  forth  at  the  mention  of  such 
a  coming  ;  and  they  strew  their  garments  in  the 
way,  and  throw  down  the  torn  branches  in  the  way, 
and  cry,  Hosannah  !  save  us!  to  Him  that  comes 
to  them  unexpectedly,  blessed  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord.  Yes,  belief  is  an  opinion  ;  but  that  God  is 
and  loves  us  is  a  great  opinion,  and  it  never  dawns 
upon  any  underslanO.'ng  but  for  great  issues, 

—  Thomson. 

(1941.)  This  one  thing  I  have  noticed  in  every- 
body— the  moment  they  come  to  a  clear  apprehen- 
sion of  the  love  of  Christ,  they  turn  right  about 
upon  tlie  minister,  or  upon  the  Christians  who  have 
been  labouring,  perhaps  for  years,  to  bring  them  to 
that  very  point,  and  say,  "  VVliy  didn't  you  tell  us 
this  before  ? " 

Why,  it's  what  we've  been  always  telling  them. 
I  think  that  trying  to  point  a  man  to  the  love  of 
Jesus  is  like  trying  to  show  one  a  star  that  has  just 
come  out,  the  only  star  in  the  whole  cloudy  sky. 

"  1  can  see  no  star,"  says  the  man.  "  Where 
is  it  ?  " 

*'  Why.  there  :  don't  you  see  ?  " 


But  the  man  shakes  his  head  ;  he  can  see  nothing. 
But  by-and-by,  after  long  looking,  he  catches  sight 
of  the  star ;  and  now  he  can  see  nothing  else  for 
gazing  at  it.  He  wonders  that  he  had  not  seen  it 
before. 

Just  so  it  is  with  the  soul  that  is  gazing  after  the 
Star  of  Bethlehem.  IVothing  in  the  world  seems  so 
hidden,  so  complex,  so  perplexing,  as  this  thing, 
until  it  is  once  seen  by  the  heart,  and  then,  oh, 
there  never  was  anything  that  ever  was  thought  of 
that  is  so  clear,  so  simple,  so  transcendently  glori- 
ous !  And  men  marvel  that  the  whole  world  dees 
not  see  and  feel  as  they  do.  — Beecher, 

(1942.)  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved."  Not  in  Christianity,  but  on 
Christ! 

Mark  that  little  yet  great  word  on.  It  is  nof 
enough  to  believe  in  Christ  Jesus.  Millions  of  un- 
converted people  believe  in  Jesus,  just  as  thej 
believe  in  Howard  as  a  noble  philanthropist,  or  in' 
Washington  as  a  pure  patriot,  or  in  Newton  as  a ' 
profound  teacher  of  science.  But  they  do  not  trust 
their  souls  to  Jesus.  They  do  not  rest  on  Him  for 
salvation.  They  do  not  build  their  hopes  of  heaven 
on  Him.  When  a  miner  looks  at  the  rope  that  is 
to  lower  him  into  the  deep  mine,  he  may  coolly 
say,  *'  I  have  faith  in  that  rope  as  well  made  and 
strong."  But  when  he  lays  hold  of  it,  and  swings 
down  by  it  into  the  tremendous  chasm,  then  he  is 
believing  on  the  rope.  Then  he  is  trusting  himself 
to  the  rope.  It  is  not  a  mere  opinion — it  is  an  act. 
The  miner  just  lets  go  of  everytliing  else,  and  bears 
his  whole  weight  on  those  well-braided  strands  of 
hemp.  Now  that  is  faith.  And  when  a  human 
soul  lets  go  of  every  other  reliance  in  the  wide  uni- 
verse and  hangs  entirely  upon  the.  atoning  Jesus, 
that  soul  "believes  on  Christ."  That  soul  is  in- 
trusting itself  to  Jesus  for  guidance,  for  grace,  for 
strength,  for  pardon,  for  final  salvation. 

Is  not  this  the  real  core  of  faith  ?  Is  it  anything 
else  than  simply  trusting  ourselves  to  Christ?  Can 
there  be  a  simpler,  clearer  idea  of  Bible  faith  than 
this  ?     If  so,  we  never  have  discovered  it. 

—Cuyhr. 

(1943.)  Any  faith  in  him,  however  small,  is  better 
than  any  belief  about  him,  however  great. 

— George  Alacdonald, 
2.  Its  object, 

(1944.)  As  the  act  of  healing  through  the  eyes  of 
the  Israelites  and  the  brazen  serpent  went  together  ; 
so,  in  the  act  of  justifying,  these  two,  faith  and 
Christ,  have  a  mutual  relation,  and  must  always 
concur — faith  as  the  action  which  apprehendeth, 
Christ  as  the  object  which  is  apprehended  ;  so  that 
neither  the  passion  of  Christ  saveth  without  faith, 
nor  doth  faith  help  unless  it  be  in  Christ,  its 
object,  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(1945.)  Put  yourselves  upon  the  stream  of  the 
free  grace  of  God,  without  having  any  foot  on  your 
own  bottom  ;  some  men  will  learn  to  swim,  and 
they  are  loth  to  lean  themselves  upon  the  stream  of 
the  water,  but  keep  a  foot  at  the  bottom  ;  and  ihey 
never  learn  to  swim,  till  they  take  up  the  foot  : 
some  would  fain  be  evangelical,  but  they  cannot 
lean  themselves  upon  the  stream  of  grace,  but  keep 
a  foot  at  the  bottom  still  upon  something  of  theii 
own. 

Some   there  are  that  do,  and  work,  and   when 


FAITH. 


(     337    ) 


FAITH. 


they  can  work  no  further,  then  they  eke  it  out  with 
Christ's  mediation.  So  indeed  they  make  the 
mediation  of  Christ  but  an  ekement  to  their  own 
working  ;  but  away  with  these  ekements  1  Oh,  let 
Christ  be  all.  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(1946.)  Had  the  stung  Israelites  looked  on  any 
other  object  besides  the  brazen  serpent,  they  had 
never  been  healed.  Neither  will  the  stung  con- 
science find  ease  with  looking  upon  any  besides 
Christ  in  the  gosjiel-promise.  The  Levite  and  the 
Priest  looked  on  the  wounded  man,  but  would  not 
come  near  him  ;  there  he  might  have  lain  and 
perished  in  his  blood  for  all  them.  It  was  the  good 
Samaritan  that  poured  oil  into  his  wounds.  Not 
the  law,  but  Christ  by  His  blood,  bathes  and  sup- 
ples, closeth  and  cureth  the  wounded  conscience. 
— Curnal/,  1617-1679. 

(1947.)  As  the  eye  seeks  for  no  other  light  than 
tliat  of  the  sun,  and  joins  no  candles  with  it  to  dis- 
honour the  sufficiency  of  its  beams,  so  no  created 
thing  must  be  joined  with  Christ  as  an  object  of 
faith.  This  is  a  dishonour  to  the  strength  of  this 
Kock,  which  is  our  only  foundation,  this  is  to  un- 
dervalue the  greatness  of  the  gift  and  the  wisdom 
of  the  giver.  It  is  a  folly  to  seek  for  security  any- 
where else.  Who  would  join  the  weakness  of  a 
bulrush  with  the  strength  of  a  rock  for  his  protec- 
tion ?  Who  would  fetch  water  from  a  muddy  pond 
to  make  a  pure  fountain  in  his  garden  more  plea- 
sant ?  All  other  things  are  broken  reeds  under  the 
most  splendid  appearances.  Address  yourselves  only 
to  Him,  to  find  a  medicine  for  your  miseries,  and 
counsel  in  your  troubles. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(1948.)  Nothing  else  of  Christ  can  be  the  imme- 
diate and  primary  object  of  our  faith,  but  His  death. 
Nothing  else  but  the  priestly  office  of  Christ  and 
propitation,  and  atonement  He  has  made  for  sin 
(and  thereby  delivered  us  from  the  wrath  to  come), 
can  be  the  formal  object  of  faith  in  its  first  applica- 
tion. There  are  many  things  in  Christ  that  faith 
afterwards  considers,  and  that  are  worthy  of  our 
deepest  inquiries  and  meditations;  but  this  only  is 
considered  in  the  first  application.  What  did  the 
poor  stung  Israelites  consider  in  their  looking  upon 
the  brazen  serpent  ?  Uid  they  consider  it  only  as 
the  figure  of  a  serpent,  or  let  their  minds  run  out 
upon  the  excellency  of  the  figure,  the  skill  of  the 
artificer,  and  the  curiosity  of  the  workmanship  ? 
These,  indeed,  to  a  sound  man  would  have  been  a 
delightful  employment  ;  but  as  soon  as  ever  he  had 
been  bitten,  he  would  have  laid  aside  all  such 
thoughts,  and  cast  his  eye  upon  it,  according  to  the 
intent  of  its  elevation  on  the  pole  for  the  cure  of  his 
disease.  What  did  the  poor  malefactor  consider  in 
his  distress  when  he  ran  to  the  horns  of  the  altar? 
He  considered  it  only  as  a  place  of  refuge,  and  not 
as  a  place  of  worsliip.  A  man  in  the  first  act  of 
faith  considers  himself  guilty  before  God,  and  in 
danger  of  etenal  fire,  under  the  dreadful  displeasure 
of  God  by  reason  of  his  transgression  of  the  law  ; 
he  considers  himself  a  breaker  of  that  law,  and  con- 
sequently under  the  threatening  and  curse  of  it,  and 
wishes  for  seouiity  from  that  fire;  his  conscience, 
by  virtue  of  i  iolated  law,  flashes  in  his  face.  That, 
fher^fore,  which  prompts  a  man  in  this  condition  to 
go  to  Christ,  is  the  belief  and  hope  of  a  sure  deli- 
verance by  Him.  His  great  intendment  is  justlhca- 
tion,  freedom,  and  deliverance,  and  therefore   he 


eyes  Christ  as  a  deliverer,  and  in  tha".  posture  and 
method  wherein  He  was  a  deliverer,  i.e.,  as  hang- 
ing upon  the  cross. 

— Charnock^  162&-16S0. 

{1949.)  Faith  is  described  to  be  a  "believing  on 
the  name  of  the  Son  of  God,"  viz.,  on  His  person. 
The  promise  is  but  the  cabinet,  Christ  is  the  jewel 
in  it  which  faith  embraceth  ;  the  promise  is  but  the 
dish,  Christ  is  the  food  in  it  which  faith  feeds  on. 
And  as  faith  rests  on  Christ's  person,  so  on  1  lis  per- 
son under  this  notion,  "as  He  was  crucified."  Faith 
glories  in  the  cross  of  Christ  (Gal.  vi.  14).  To 
consider  Christ  as  He  is  crowned  with  all  manner  of 
excellences,  doth  rather  stir  up  admiration  and 
wonder  ;  but  Christ  looked  upon  as  bleeding  and 
dying,  is  the  proper  object  of  our  faith  ;  therefore 
it  is  called  faith  in  His  blood. 

^-Watson,  1696. 

(1950  )  To  depend  partly  upon  Christ's  righteous- 
ness and  partly  ujion  our  own,  is  to  set  one  foot 
upon  a  rock  and  another  in  the  quicksands. 
Christ  will  either  be  to  us  all  in  all  in  point  of 
righteousness,  or  else  nothing  at  all  ;  as  He  did  the 
whole  work,  so  He  will  have  the  whole  praise.  If 
He  be  not  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost,  why  do  we 
depend  upon  Him  at  all  ?  If  He  be,  why  do  we  lean 
upon  any  beside  Him?  If  we  lean  partly  on  Christ 
and  partly  on  ourselves,  or  our  own  good  works, 
wishes,  actions,  or  affections,  we  infallibly  ruin  our- 
selves. If  a  man  set  one  foot  upon  dry  land  and 
the  other  upon  deep  water,  and  lean  to  them  both 
with  equal  weight  ;  yea,  if  he  give  any  of  his 
weight  to  the  water,  he  will  sink  there.  So  here, 
if  a  person  rest  partly  upon  the  merits  of  Christ,  and 
partly,  or  in  any  degree,  upon  his  self-righteousness 
for  salvation,  he  will  inevitably  perish. 

— Erskiiie,  1685- 1752. 

(1951.)  The  stupendous  Falls  of  Niagara  have 
been  spoken  of  in  every  part  of  the  world  ;  but 
while  they  are  marvellous  to  hear  of,  and  wonderful 
as  a  spectacle,  they  have  been  very  destiuctivc  o 
human  life,  when  by  accident  any  have  been 
carried  down  the  cataract.  Some  years  ago  two 
men,  a  bargeman  and  a  collier,  were  in  a  boat,  and 
found  themselves  unable  to  manage  it,  it  being 
carried  so  swiftly  down  the  current  that  they  must 
both  inevitably  be  borne  down  and  dashed  to  pieces. 
At  last,  however,  one  man  was  saved  by  floating  a 
rope  to  him,  which  he  grasped.  The  same  instant 
that  the  rope  came  into  his  hand,  a  log  floated  by 
tlie  other  man.  The  thoughtless  and  confused 
bargeman,  instead  of  seizing  the  rope,  laid  hold  on 
the  log.  It  was  a  fatal  mistake,  they  were  both  in 
imminent  peril,  but  the  one  was  drawn  to  shore 
because  he  had  a  connection  with  the  people  on  the 
land,  whilst  the  other,  clinging  to  the  loose,  floating 
log,  was  borne  irresistibly  along,  and  never  heard 
of  afterwards.  Faith  has  a  saving  connection  with 
Christ.  Christ  is  on  the  shore,  so  to  speak,  holding 
the  rope,  and  as  we  lay  hold  of  it  with  the  hand  ol 
our  confidence.  He  pulls  us  to  shore  ;  but  our  good 
works  having  no  connection  with  Christ  are  drifted 
along  down  to  the  gulf  of  fell  despair.  Grapple  our 
virtues  as  tightly  as  we  may,  <'ven  with  hooks  ol 
steel,  they  cannot  avail  us  in  the  least  degree  ;  they 
are  the  disconnected  log  which  has  no  holdfast  oa 
the  heavenly  shore.  — Spurgeon. 


FAITH. 


(    338     ) 


FAITH. 


8.  Is  necessarily  personal. 

(1952.)  In  Gideon's  cAtnp  everv  soldier  had  his 
own  pitcher ;  amonj^st  Solomon's  men  of  valour 
every  man  wore  his  own  sword  ;  tlie  five  wise  virgins 
had  every  one  oil  in  her  lamp.  Luther  was  wont  to 
say  that  there  lay  a  great  deal  of  divinity  couched 
up  in  pronouns — as  vieuni,  tiium,  sttum  (mine,  thine, 
his).  Thus,  faith  aporouriated  is  all  in  all  :  a  bird 
shall  as  soon  fly  with  another  s  wings  as  thy  soul 
mount  to  heaven  by  another's  faith.  Whosoever 
will  go  to  God,  whether  it  be  in  prayer  or  in  any 
religious  performances,  he  must  have  a  faith  of  his 
own  ;  it  must  be  Jiiks  liia  (thy  faith).  It  is  not 
enough  to  say,  "Lord,  Lord  !"  hut  to  say,  with 
David,  "  My  Lord  !  "  with  Job.  ''  My  Redeemer  !  " 
with  the  blessed  Virgin,  "  My  Saviour  ! "  not  to 
say,  "  CredniiHs, "  but  "  Creiio  " — not  "  We  believe," 
but  "I  believe  in  God."  Every  man  must  possess 
and  be  accountable  for  his  own  faith.  When  a  man 
believes  his  own  reconciliation  by  the  merits  of 
Christ  Jesus,  and  strengthens  this  belief  by  a  desire 
of  pleasing  God,  ihis  is JiUes  sua,  the  right  appropria- 
tion of  faith.  — Spencer,  1658. 

(1953.)  It  is  not  money  in  a  rich  man's  hand, 
though  offered  to  us,  that  will  enrich  us,  unless  we 
receive  it.  So  it  is  not  Christ's  virtues  or  benefits 
will  do  us  good,  unless  we  receive  them  by  the  hand 
or  faith.  — IValson,  1696, 

(1954.)  It  is  not  a  woman's  believing  a  man  to  be 
rich  and  honourable,  but  her  actual  consent  to  take 
him  for  her  husband,  that  makes  marriage  ;  so,  it  is 
not  people's  believing  Christ  to  be  a  great  and 
glorious  Saviour,  but  actual  reception  of  Him  for 
theirs,  that  makes  a  spiritual  marriage  and  union  to 
Christ.  — Erskine,  1685-1752. 

(1955.)  What  is  tiecded  on  our  part  to  make 
Christ's  forgiving  love  our  own  ?  There  must  be 
the  personal  contact  of  my  soul  with  the  loving 
heart  of  Christ,  the  individual  act  of  my  own  coming 
to  Him,  and,  as  the  old  Puritans  used  to  say,  "  my 
transacting"  with  Him.  Like  the  ocean  of  the 
atmosphere,  His  love  encompasses  me,  and  in  it  I 
live,  and  move,  and  have  my  being.  But  I  must 
let  it  flow  into  my  spirit,  and  stir  tlie  dormant  music 
of  my  soul.  1  can  shut  it  out,  sealing  my  heart  love- 
tight  against  it.  I  do  shut  it  out,  unless  by  my  own 
conscious,  personal  act  1  yield  myself  to  Him, 
unless  by  my  own  faith  I  come  to  Him,  and  meet 
Him,  secretly  and  really  as  did  the  penitent  apostle, 
whom  the  message,  that  proclaimed  the  love  of  his 
Lord,  emboldened  to  meet  the  Lord  who  loved,  and 
by  His  own  lips  to  be  assured  of  forgiveness  and 
friendship.  It  is  possible  to  stumble  at  noontide  as 
in  the  dark.  A  man  may  starve  outside  of  barns 
filled  with  jilenty,  and  his  lips  may  be  parched  with 
thirst  though  he  is  within  sight  of  a  broad  river 
flawing  in  the  sunshine.  So  a  soul  may  stifl'en  into 
the  death  of  self  and  sin,  even  though  the  voice 
that  wakes  the  dead  to  a  life  of  love  be  calling  to 
it.  Christ  and  His  grace  are  yours  if  you  will,  but 
the  invitations  and  beseechings  of  His  mercy,  the 
constant  drawings  of  His  love,  the  all-embracing 
offers  of  His  forgiveness,  may  be  all  in  vain  if  you 
do  not  grasp  them,  and  hold  them  fast  by  the  hand 
of  faith.  — Maclaren. 

(1956.)  Mv^Vitudes  of  Christians  as  it  were  press 
upon  Jesus  Christ  by  hearing  His  word,  receiving 
His  sacraments,  and  performing  the  outward  parts 


of  religion  ;  but  few  touch  Him  by  a  lively  faith,  by 
a  true  Christian  life,  by  the  prayer  of  cliarity,  and 
by  the  meditation,  love,  and  imitation  of  His 
mysteries.  —  Quesnel. 

4.  How  it  is  exercised. 

(1957.)  As  faith  is  called  a  trusting  in  God  ;  so  it 
is  a  practical  kind  of  trust ;  and  the  principal  trial  of 
it  lieth  in  forsaking  all  other  happiness  and  hopes^ 
in  confidence  of  God's  promise  through  Jesus  Christ. 

To  open  the  matter  by  a  similitude  :  Suppose  that 
Christ  came  on  earth  again  as  He  did  at  His 
incarnation,  and  should  confirm  His  truth  by  the 
same  miracles  and  other  means;  and  suppose  He 
should  then  tell  ail  in  the  country,  I  have  a  kingdom 
at  the  Antipodes,  where  men  never  die,  but  live  in 
perpetual  prosperity  ;  and  those  of  you  shall  freely 
possess  it  who  shall  part  with  your  own  estates  and 
country,  and  go  in  a  ship  of  my  providing,  and  trust 
me  for  your  pilot  to  bring  you  thither,  and  trust  me 
to  give  it  you  when  you  come  there.  My  power  to  do 
all  this  I  have  proved  by  my  miracles,  and  my  love 
and  will  my  offer  proveth.  How,  now,  will  you 
know  whether  a  man  believe  Christ  and  trust  His 
promise  or  not?  Why,  if  he  believe  and  trust  Him, 
he  will  go  with  Him  and  will  leave  all,  and  venture 
over  the  seas  whithersoever  He  conducteth  him, 
and  in  that  ship  which  He  prepareth  for  him  ;  but  if 
he  dare  not  venture,  or  will  not  leave  his  present 
country  or  possessions,  it  is  a  sign  that  he  doth  not 
trust  Him. 

If  you  were  going  to  sea,  and  had  several  ships  and 
pilots  offered  you,  and  you  were  afraid  lest  one  were 
unsafe,  and  the  pilot  unskilful,  and  it  were  doubtful 
which  were  to  be  trusted  ;  when,  after  all  delibera- 
tion, you  choose  one,  and  refuse  the  rest,  and  resolve 
to  venture  your  life  and  goods  in  it ;  this  is  properly 
called  trusting  it.  So  trusting  in  God,  and  in 
Jesus  Christ,  is  not  a  bare  opinion  of  His  fidelity, 
but  a  practical  trust.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1958.)  Oh,  what  a  difference  is  there  between 
this  living  faith  in  Christ,  and  the  name  of  faith, 
which  you  presume  upon  !  It  is  one  thing  for  a 
man  that  is  well  to  honour  a  physician,  and  another 
thing  for  a  sick  man  to  seek  out  to  him,  and  beg 
his  help,  and  willingly  take  anything  that  he  giveth 
him.  It  is  the  common  delusion  of  unconverted 
men,  that  they  think  that  they  believe  in  Christ 
already.  This  is  a  common  belief  that  will  never 
save  them,  and  that  they  take  up  with,  and  look 
not  after  the  saving  faith.  I  cannot  better  open  the 
diflerence  to  ordinary  capacities,  than  by  the  afore- 
said comparison.  A  man  in  health  may  truly 
believe  that  such  a  man  is  an  able  physician,  and 
he  may  speak  well  of  him  and  honoi.r  him.  Now, 
suppose  a  man  were  deadly  sick  of  a  consumption, 
and  did  not  know  it ;  if  this  man  honoureth  the 
physician  as  much  as  any  other  healthful  man,  will 
this  cure  him,  or  save  his  life?  No,  but  the  patient 
that  prayeih  him  to  come  to  him,  and  will  trust  his 
life  in  his  hands,  and  will  take  the  bitterest 
medicine  that  he  gives  him,  and  will  forbear  any 
hurtful  meat  or  drink,  be  it  never  so  pleasant  to  him, 
this  is  he  that  is  like  to  be  healed  by  him.  Christ 
is  known  among  us  to  be  the  able  I'hysician  of  souls  ; 
we  all  confess  and  praise  His  skill,  and  know  that 
He  can  save  us  ;  we  all  hear  of  the  freeness  of  His 
cure,  that  He  takes  nothing,  l)ut  doth  it,  as  soon  for 
the  poorest  beggar  as  the  greatest  prince ;  but 
knowing  all  this,  and  speaking  well  of  Him,   wiU 


FAITH. 


(    339    ) 


FAITH. 


cute  no  man  ;  no,  but  you  must  go  to  Him  believ- 
mgly,  and  beg  His  help,  and  take  Him  for  your 
I'liysician,  and  trust  your  souls  upon  His  blood  and 
Siiirit,  and  apply  His  means,  and  take  tlie  bitterest 
cup  that  He  shall  reach  you,  and  forsake  the  morsels 
of  fleshly  pleasure  that  have  been  sweet  to  you 
heretofore.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1959.)  What,  if  all  were  as  bad  as  thou  dost 
fear,  and  none  of  thy  sins  were  yet  pardoned  ;  is 
not  the  remedy  at  hand  ?  Christ  is  willing  if  thou 
be  willing.  He  ofiereth  Himself  and  all  His 
benefits  to  thee:  He  presseth  them  on  thee,  and 
urgelh  thee  to  accept  them.  Why  dost  thou,  there- 
fore, stand  complaining  that  thou  art  not  pardoned 
and  adopted,  when  thou  shouldst  take  them,  being 
offered  thee?  Were  lie  not  mad  that  would  lie 
weeping  and  wringing  liis  hands,  because  he  is 
not  pardoned,  when  his  prince  stands  by  all  the 
vhile  offering  him  a  pardon,  and  entreating,  and 
threatening,  and  persuading,  and  correcting  him, 
and  all  to  make  him  take  it?  Know  ye  not  that 
pardon  and  adoption  are  offered  you  only  on  the 
condition  of  your  believing?  And  this  believing  is 
nothing  else  but  the  accepting  of  Christ  for  thy 
Lord  and  Saviour,  as  He  is  offered  to  thee  with 
His  benefits  in  the  (iospel  :  and  tliis  accepting  is 
princi]iaily,  if  not  only,  the  act  of  thy  will.  So 
that  if  thou  be  willing  to  have  Christ  upon  His 
own  terms,  that  is,  to  save  and  rule  thee,  then 
thou  art  a  believer  :  thy  willingness  is  thy  faith  ; 
and  if  thou  have  faith,  thou  hast  tlie  surest  of  all 
evidences.  Justifying  faith  is  not  thy  persuasion  of 
God's  special  love  to  thee,  or  of  thy  justification, 
but  thy  accepting  Christ  to  make  thee  just  and 
lovely.  It  maybe,  thou  wilt  say,  "I  cannot  be- 
lieve ;  it  is  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  believe  as  you 
make  it."  Answer:  Indeed,  to  those  that  are  not 
willing,  it  is  not  easy,  God  only  can  make  them 
willing.  But  to  him  that  is  willing  to  have  Christ 
for  King  and  Saviour,  I  will  not  say  believing  is 
easy  :  but  it  is  already  performed  ;  for  this  is  be- 
lieving. Let  me,  therefore,  put  this  question  to 
every  doubting,  complaining  soul,  What  is  it  that 
thou  art  comi)laining  and  mourning  for  ?  What 
makes  thee  walk  so  sadly  as  thou  dost?  Because 
thou  hast  not  Christ  and  His  benefits?  Why, 
art  thou  willing  to  have  them  on  the  fore-mentioned 
condition,  or  art  thou  not?  If  thou  be  willing, 
thou  hast  liiu)  :  thy  accepting  is  thy  believing: 
"To  as  many  as  receive  Him  (that  is,  accrept 
Him),  to  them  He  gives  power  to  become  the  sons 
of  liod,  even  to  them  that  believe  on  His  name." 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(i960.)  The  act  of  justifying  faith  lies  in  re- 
cumbency :  w'e  do  rest  on  Christ  alone  for  salvation. 
As  a  man  that  is  ready  to  drown,  catcheth  hukl  on 
the  bough  of  a  tree  :  so  a  poor  trembling  sinner, 
seeing  himself  ready  to  perish,  catcheth  hold  by 
faith  on  Christ  ihs  tree  of  life,  and  so  is  saved. 

—  IVatson,  1696. 

(1961.)  To  "receive"  Christ,  in  the  sense  of 
Scripture,  stands  opposed  to  rejecting  Him,  or  to 
such  a  non-reception  of  Him  as  was  practised  by 
the  body  of  the  Jewish  nation  (John  i.  Ii,  12). 
An  interest  in  spiritual  blessings,  and,  of  course, 
a  persuasion  of  it,  is  represented  as  following  the 
reception  of  Christ,  and,  consequently,  is  to  be 
distinguished  from  it.  "To  as  many  as  receiveil 
Him,  to  them  gave  He  power  10  become  the  sons 


of  God,  even  to  them  that  believe  on  His  name." 
The  idea  that  is  generally  attached  to  the  term,  in 
various  cases,  to  which  the  reception  of  Christ 
bears  an  allusion,  corresponds  with  the  above  state- 
ment. To  receive  a  gift  is  not  to  believe  it  to 
be  my  own,  though,  alter  I  have  received  it,  it  is 
so  ;  but  to  have  my  pride  so  far  abased  as  not  to 
be  above  it,  and  my  heart  so  much  attracted  as 
to  be  willing  to  relinquish  everything  that  stands 
in  competition  with  it.  To  receive  a  guest  is  not 
to  believe  him  to  be  my  particular  friend,  though 
such  he  may  be  ;  but  to  open  my  doors  to  him, 
and  make  him  heartily  welcome.  To  receive  an 
instructor  is  not  to  believe  him  to  be  my  instructor 
any  more  than  another's  ;  but  to  embrace  his  in- 
struction and  follow  his  counsel.  For  a  town,  or 
city,  after  a  long  siege,  to  receive  a  king,  is  not 
to  believe  him  to  be  their  special  frienil,  though 
such  he  may  be,  and  in  the  end  they  may  see  it  ; 
but  to  lay  down  their  arms,  throw  open  their  gates, 
and  come  under  his  government.  These  remarks 
are  easily  applied. 

— Andrew  Fuller ^   1 754- 1 8 1 5. 

(1962.)  Every  individual  has  full  warranty  to  ap- 
propriate to  himself  the  overtures  addressed  to  the 
world.  Only  let  a  person  announce  to  a  multitude 
that  all  who  come  to  him  should  receive  a  beuetit, 
or  that  ''whosoever,"  or  any,  or  "every  one"  of 
them  that  would  repair  to  a  certain  place  should 
receive  a  benefit.  It  is  not  difficult  to  divine  what 
will  be  the  first  thing  in  this  case,  as  the  effect  of 
any  one  having  believed  the  announcement.  He 
will  betake  himself  to  the  appointed  place,  and 
his  alacrity  in  going  will  be  just  in  projiortion  to 
his  confidence  in  the  honesty  of  him  who  made 
the  promise.  This  may  be  applied  to  the  '^ith  of 
the  gospel;  "eternal  life"  is  held  out  as  "the 
gift  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ,"  and  the  way  is 
prescribed  by  which  to  reach  it.  Now  when  the 
earthly  benelactor  in  our  supposed  case  scattered 
abroad  among  the  multitude  the  promise  of  a 
certain  benefit  on  their  re|)airing  to  the  appointed 
place,  he  did  not  bid  them  wait  till  faith  was  obtained 
before  they  moved.  He  bade  them  move,  and 
they  by  instantly  doing  so  prove  that  faith  existetl. 
These  did  not  seek  to  ascertain  their  faith  before 
rentlering  obedience  ;  by  their  obedience  they  as- 
certained their  faith.  So  there  are  calls  to  obedi- 
ence, and  a  man  obeys  them  not  by  feeling  inwardly 
for  the  faith,  but  by  following  outwardly  the  objects 
of  faith.  He  must  simply  do  what  he  is  simply 
bid  to  do.  A  plain  man  is  told  wb.at  to  hoiie  for, 
and  where  to  go  lor  it,  and  without  mysticism  he 
hopes  what  he  is  told,  and  does  what  he  is  bitl. 

—  Cludiiters,    1 780- 1 S47. 

(1963.)  Faith  says,  if  Thou  wilt;  not,  if  Thoa 
art  able.  — Bengel. 

(1964.)  "Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved."  7 rust  yotirselj  io  Christ  and 
you  are  saved.  That  is  what  the  Holy  Ghost  tells 
us  through  the  lips  of  Paul. 

This  is  an  act — not  simply  an  opinion.  It  is 
doing.  It  is  a  laying  hold  on  Jesus.  It  is  resting  on 
Jesus.  It  is  trusting  Jesus  to  lead  us,  and  aoing 
where  He  leads.  What  avails  it  to  me  to  analyze 
Saratoga  water,  and  to  believe  in  its  virtues.  I 
must  drink  the  water  if  I  want  its  purifying  power. 
And  the  soul  that  has  not  actually  drank  of  Christ 
can  never  be  puiged  of  sin.     Oh,  thirsty,  dying  soul 


FAITH. 


(    340    ) 


FAITH. 


how  long  will  you  stand  gazing  at  this  precious 
water  of  life?  Stoop  down  and  drink!  Saving 
faith  is  just  as  simple  as  drinking,  if  you  will  only 
try  it.  — Cuyler. 

{1965.)  A  sea  captain  related  at  a  prayer-meeting 
in  Boston,  a  short  time  ago,  a  thrilling  incident  in 
his  own  experience.  "A  lew  years  ago,"  said  he, 
"1  was  sailing  by  the  island  of  Cuba,  v\hen  the  cry 
i-in  through  the  ship,  '  Man  overboard  ! '  It  was 
impossible  to  put  up  the  helm  of  the  ship,  but  I 
instantly  seized  a  rope  and  threw  it  over  the  ship's 
stern,  crying  out  to  the  man  to  seize  it  as  for  his  life. 
The  sailor  caught  the  rope  just  as  the  ship  was 
passing.  I  immediately  took  another  rope,  and 
making  a  slip  noose  of  it,  attached  it  to  the  other, 
and  slid  it  down  to  the  struggling  sailor,  and  directed 
him  to  pass  it  over  his  shoulders  and  under  his  arms, 
and  he  would  be  drawn  on  board.  He  was  rescued  ; 
but  he  had  grasped  that  rope  with  such  firmness, 
with  such  a  death-grip,  that  it  took  hours  before  his 
hold  relaxed,  and  his  hand  could  be  separated  from 
it.  With  such  eagerness,  indeed,  liad  he  clutched 
the  object  that  was  to  save  him,  that  the  strands  of 
the  rope  became  imbedded  in  the  flesh  of  his 
hands ! " 

Reader,  has  not  God  let  down  from  heaven  a  rope 
to  every  sinner  on  the  earth,  is  not  every  strand  a 
precious  promise,  and  ought  we  not  to  lay  hold  on 
It  as  for  our  very  life  ? 

(1966.)  It  was  a  time  of  spiritual  awakening  in  a 
small  manufacturing  town.  The  foreman  in  a  de- 
partment of  one  of  the  factories  became  anxious 
about  his  soul.  He  was  directed  to  Christ  as  the 
sinner's  only  refuge  by  many,  and  by  his  own  master 
among  the  rest  ;  but  it  seemed  to  be  without  result. 
At  last  his  master  thought  of  reaching  his  mind,  and 
bringing  him  to  see  the  necessity  of  God  in  the 
Gospel,  by  writing  a  note  asking  him  to  come  to  see 
him  at  six  o'clock,  after  he  left  "the  work." 

He  came  promjitly,  with  the  letter  in  his  hand. 
When  ushered  into  his  room,  his  master  inquired, 
"  Do  you  wish  to  see  me,  James  ?  " 

James  was  confounded,  and  holding  up  the  note 
requesting  him  to  come,  said  : 

"The  letter!     The  letter  !" 

*'0h,"  said  the  master,  "I  see  you  believe  that 
I  wanted  to  see  you,  and  when  1  sent  you  the 
message  you  came  at  once." 

"  Surely,  sir  !  surely,  sir  !  "  replied  James. 

*'  Well,  see  ;  here  is  another  letter  sent  for  you 
by  One  equally  in  earnest,"  said  his  master,  holding 
ap  a  slip  of  paper  with  some  texts  of  Scripture 
^rritten  upon  it. 

James  took  the  paper  and  began  to  read  slowly  : 
"  Come — unto— me — all — ye — that — labour,"  &c. 
His  lips  quivered  ;  his  eyes  filled  with  tears;  and, 
Mke  to  choke  with  emotion,  he  thrust  his  hand  into 
his  jacket  pocket,  grasping  his  large  red  handker- 
chief, with  which  he  covered  his  face,  and  there  he 
stood  for  a  few  moments  not  knowing  what  to  do. 
At  length  he  inquired  : 

"Am  1  just  to  believe  that  in  the  same  way  I 
believed  your  letter  ?" 

"Just  in  the  same  way,"  rejoined  the  master. 
"If  we  receive  the  witness  of  men,  the  witness  of 
God  is  greater."  This  expedient  was  owned  of  tiod 
in  setting  James  at  liberty.  He  was  a  happy 
believer  that  very  night,  and  has  continued  to  go  on 


his  way  rejoicing   in    God   his  Saviour,    to   point 
others  to  Calvary,  and  walk  in  the  nanow  way. 

(1967.)  How  straight  and  simple  is  the  way  a 
child  comes  to  Jesus  !  No  doubt,  no  hesitation, 
only  simple  faith  and  perfect  love.  A  little  girl  of 
my  acquaintance  was  once  looking  at  a  picture,  with 
which  many  of  you  may  be  familiar,  whicli  represents 
a  rock  in  the  midst  of  a  stormy  sea,  bearing  upon 
its  summit  a  cross  to  which  a  female  figure  just 
recovered  from  the  angry  waves  clings,  faint  and 
exhausted,  while  at  her  feet  a  hand,  grasping  a  part 
of  a  wreck,  is  just  disappearing  in  the  black  water. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  "  asked  the  child. 

"It  is  called  'The  Rock  of  Ages,'"  was  the 
answer.  —  "That  means  Jesus  to  whom  we  cling  for 
salvation." — "You  know  the  hymn  says,  'Other 
refuge  have  I  none.  ' " 

"Oh  yes,"  said  the  child  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  "but  that  rock  isn't  w/jr  Jesus ;  when  I 
cling  to  Him  He  reaches  down  and  clings  too  !" 

Teach  the  little  ones  of  this  Jesus  "who  reaches 
down  and  clings  to,"  to  whom  we  hold,  not  so 
much  from  fear  of  falling,  since  underneath  us  are  His 
everlasting  arms  ;  but  because,  like  the  trusting  child 
whom  the  father  safely  carries,  we  love  to  cling, 
that  we  may  draw  Him  closer, 

(1968.)  Little  Alice  was  one  of  my  Sabbath- 
school  scholars — a  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  little  girl, 
whose  beautiful  face  and  sweet,  winning  ways  made 
her  a  favourite  with  all.  Methinks  I  can  see  now 
the  soft,  tender  look  of  her  mild  eyes,  fixed  so 
earnestly  upon  me,  as  I  endeavoured  to  impress 
upon  her  opening  mind  the  Gospel  plan  of  salva- 
tion. 

One  day  I  said  to  her  :  "Alice,  what  will  you 
do  when  you  die,  and  are  called  upon  to  stand 
before  the  judgment-seat  of  God,  to  answer  for  all 
the  sins  done  here  upon  earth  ?" 

Her  face  glowed  with  emotion  as  she  answered  : 
"  Christ  died  for  sinners  ;  I  will  hide  behind  Him. 
God  will  not  look  at  me  ;   He  will  look  4t  Christ." 

Beautiful  thought,  to  hide  behind  Cc.rist,  to  lose 
ourselves  in  Him,  and,  casting  aside  our  own  im- 
pure works,  to  rest  solely  and  entirely  upon  His 
finished  work  for  salvation  1 

6.  How  It  Justifies  and  saves. 

(1969.)  Why  hath  God  appointed  the  eye  to  see, 
and  not  the  ear?  Why  the  hand  to  take  our  food, 
rather  than  the  foot?  It  is  easily  answered  :  be- 
cause these  members  have  a  particular  fitness  for 
these  functions,  and  not  the  other.  Thus /«/'///  hath 
a  fitness  for  the  work  of  justification  peculiar  to  itself. 
We  are  justified,  not  by  giving  anytliing  to  God,— 
what  we  do, — but  by  receiving  from  God,  what 
Christ  hath  done  for  us.  Now  faith  is  the  only 
receiving  grace,  and  therefore  only  fit  for  this  office. 
— Gurnall,   1 6 1 7- 1 679. 

(1970.)  Some  make  works  their  righteousness; 
some  make  faith  their  righteousness  ;  and  they  walk 
in  this  faith,  not  in  Christ  by  faith  ;  but  it  is  not 
faith  that  saves  merely,  but  Christ  received  by 
faith.  As  it  is  not  the  laying  on  the  plaster  that 
heals  the  sore,  but  the  plaster  itself  that  is  laid  on  ; 
so  it  is  not  our  faith,  or  receiving  of  Christ,  but 
Christ  received  by  faith  that  saves  us.  It  is  not 
our  looking  to  the  brazen  serpent  mystical,  but  the 


FAITH. 


(     341     ) 


FAITH. 


mystical    brazen    serpent    looked    unto    by   faith, 
Christ  received  by  faith,  that  saves  us. 

— Erskine,    1685-1752. 

(1971.)  What  is  the  righteousness  of  God  ?  What 
is  the  matter  of  it?  Is  it  faith?  I  am  asked  by 
some  one,  Is  it  faith  ;  loiasmuch  as  in  some  of 
these  passages  it  is  called  righteousness  of  faith?  I 
answer  No,  in  nowise  ;  on  no  account.  Faith  is  an 
act  of  man's  own  mind,  whereas  the  righteousness 
of  God  is  on  a  man — faith  is  the  travelling  forth  of  a 
sinner's  emptiness  to  meet  the  Saviour's  fulness  ; 
the  Saviour's  fulness  is  one  thing,  and  the  sinner's 
emptiness  going  forth  to  meet  Him  is  another  thing. 
Faith  and  the  righteousness  of  God  are  not 
identical,  for  the  text  says,  "it  is  on  them." — I  am 
asked  by  some,  if  these  good  works  which  flow 
from  tile  exercise  of  faith  in  the  Divine  influence 
on  the  believing  man,  are  the  righteousness  of 
God  !  1  answer  No  !  and  I  give  this  answer  to  the 
question  for  the  same  reason  that  I  gave  it  to  the  other 
question  — these  good  works  are  ours,  just  as  the 
fruits  gathered  from  the  soil  are  called  the  fruits  of 
the  earth  ;  they  are  the  product  of  the  influence  of 
the  sun,  and  rain,  and  dew,  and  a  million  atmos- 
pheric influences  acting  on  the  tree  and  the  soil  ;  and 
the  fruits  produced  upon  the  tree  are  called  the 
fruits  of  the  earth;  so  those  good  works  which  are 
produced  in  the  exercise  of  faith,  as  the  result  of  a 
Divine  influence  on  the  believing  man,  are  the 
man's,  and  he  will  be  judged  according  to  them  at 
the  last  day ;  but  righteousness  is  not  man's,  it 
is  God's.  — Beaumont. 

(1972.)  Consider  what  faith  is, — It  is  that  strong 
buoy  and  confidence  in  God  and  His  love  which 
gives  energy  and  spirit  to  do  right  without  doubt  or 
despondency.  Where  God  sees  that.  He  sees  the 
spring  and  fountain  out  of  which  all  good  springs  : 
He  sees,  in  short,  the  very  life  of  Christ  begun, 
and  He  reckons  that  to  be  righteousness  ;  just  as 
a  small  perennial  fountain  in  Gloucestershire  is  the 
Thames,  though  it  is  not  as  yet  scarcely  large 
enough  to  float  a  schoolboy's  boat ;  and  just  as 
you  call  a  smnll  seedling,  not  bigger  than  a  little 
almond  peeping  above  the  ground,  an  oak  ;  for  the 
word  "justify"  means  not  to  be  made  righteousness, 
but  to  reckon  or  account  riglueous.  Now  observe, 
just  as  you  count  the  seven  springs  to  be  the 
Thames,  without  a  flood  of  waters,  and  without 
the  navy  that  rides  on  the  Tliames,  and  just  as 
you  call  the  sapling  an  oak,  without  the  acorns, 
50  God  reckons  the  trust  in  Him  as  righteousness, 
because  it  is  the  fmntain  and  the  root  of  righteous- 
ness, being  indeed  the  life  divine  in  the  soul.  He 
reckons  it  as  such  (that  is.  He  justifies  the  soul 
that  has  it)  without  works — that  is,  before  works 
are  done,  and  not  because  of  the  works,  liut  then 
that  faith  will  not  be  without  works  ;  for  the 
fountain  must  flow  on,  and  the  tree  must  grow,  and 
the  life  of  God  in  the  soul,  sanguine  trust  in  God, 
the  loving  and  good  One,  must  spring  up  with  acts ; 
fcr  to  say  that  it  does  not  would  be  to  say  that  it 
is  dead.  — F.  W.  Robertson,   1816-185 3, 

(1973.)  Another  mistake  is  sometimes  perpetrated 
on  the  subject  of  faith.  Many  persons  say  faith  now 
takes  the  place  of  worl-i.  The  old  law  was, 
*' Justified  by  works  ;  the  new  law,  they  say,  is 
"Justified  by  faith  ;"  anr  they  substitute  the  word 
"  faith  "  for  the  word  "  work;"  and  then  as  before. 
Now  that  is  not   the  fact      Faith   has  no  more 


merit  than  works  ;  it  is  no  more  the  ground  of  our 
acceptance  than  works.  If  it  were  so,  we  should 
be  saved  now  by  intellectual  acumen,  sifting  and 
believing  truth,  instead  of  being  saved  by  good 
works,  paying  the  price  of  heaven,  and  so  read  ing  it. 
But  that  is  absurd  ;  it  would  be  orthodoxy  of 
creed  as  the  ground  of  salvation,  instead  of  orthodoxy 
of  life  as  of  old.  How  then  does  faith  save  us?  It 
saves  us  as  the  instrument.  If  you  put  money  into 
the  hand  of  a  poor  man,  it  is  not  his  hand  that  he 
thanks,  but  you.  If  you  give  bread  to  a  starving 
man,  it  is  not  the  trencher  on  which  it  lies  that  he 
thanks,  but  the  donor.  And  when  you  obtain 
eternal  life  through  faith,  it  is  not  faith  that  you 
thank,  but  the  gift  of  that  righteousness  which  is  unto 
all  upon  all  ;  and  faith  you  recognise  as  a  divine  and 
precious  instrument,  that  concurs  with  you  in 
regarding  Christ  as  all  and  in  all. 

— Cummmg. 

(1974.)  Faith  is  receiving  Christ  into  our  empti- 
ness. There  is  Christ  like  the  conduit  in  the 
market-place.  As  the  water  flows  from  the  pipes, 
so  tloes  grace  continually  flow  from  Him.  By  laith 
I  bring  my  empty  pitcher  and  hold  it  where  the 
water  flows,  and  receive  of  its  fulness  grace  for 
grace.  It  is  not  the  beauty  of  my  pitcher,  it  is  not 
even  its  cleanness  that  quenches  my  thrist  :  it  is 
simply  holding  that  pitcher  to  the  place  where 
water  flows.  Even  so  I  am  but  the  vessel,  and  my 
faith  is  the  hand  which  presents  the  empty  vessel  to 
the  flowing  stream.  Is  it  not  grace,  and  not  the 
qualification  of  the  receiver,  which  saves  the  soul? 
And  though  I  hold  that  pitcher  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  much  of  that  which  1  seek  may  be  lost 
through  my  weakness,  yet  if  the  soul  be  but  held  to 
the  fountain,  that  so  much  as  a  single  drop  trickle 
into  it,  my  soul  is  saved.  — Spurgeon, 

(1975)  I'  's  often  said  that  "faith  is  imputed  for 
righteousness."  But  the  special  faith  which  justifies 
is  faith  in  or  on  Christ  Jesus.  Its  very  essence, 
therefore,  is  trust  upon  Him  and  His  sin-expiating 
and  life-purchasing  merits.  Its  very  essence  consists 
in  its  self-emptying,  self-denying,  Christ-grasping 
energy.  The  phrase  to  impute  or  reckon  faith  for 
righteousness  represents  no  thinkable  idea,  unless 
it  means  to  reckon  as  the  righteousness  of  the  sinner 
that  righteousness  which  his  faith  trusts  and  appropri- 
ates. The  mere  act  of  leaning  will  never  support 
a  fainting  man,  unless  he  leans  upon  some  object 
capable  of  supporting  his  weight.  In  that  case  it 
is  the  object  which  is  reckoned  his  support,  and  not 
his  act  of  leaning.  The  act  of  leaning  is  the  same 
whether  a  man  leans  upon  a  broken  reed  or  upon 
a  rock,  while  the  results  difler.  The  act  of  trusting 
is  the  same  whether  a  man  trusts  to  a  false  foundation 
or  to  Christ.  The  diflerence  in  the  result  arises 
from  the  fact  that  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  upon 
which  his  faith  reposes,  is  made  his  so  far  forth  as 
to  answer  all  the  conditions  and  to  secure  all  the 
rewards  of  the  Covenant  ol  Life.  — Hodge. 

6.  In  what  sense  It  is  the  gift  of  God. 

(1976.)  As  the  earth  engendereth  not  rain,  nor 
j  is  able  by  its  own  strength,  labour,  or  travail,  to 
procure  the  same,  but  receivelh  it  of  the  mere  gift 
of  God  from  above  :  even  so  faith,  grace,  forgive- 
ness of  sins,  and  Christian  righteousness,  are  gi'"ea 
us  of  God  without  our  works  or  desei  vings. 

— Cawdray,   1 609. 


FAITH. 


(    342    ) 


FAITH. 


(1977.)  Is  faith  the  gift  of  God?  "Certainly," 
answeis  a  chorus  of  theologians.  What  says  the 
text?  "By  grace  are  ye  saved,  through  faith, 
and  that  not  of  yourself,  it  is  the  gift  of  God." 
But  a  tyro  in  Greek  knows  that  the  pronoun  trans- 
lated "that"  cannot  refer  to  faith,  and  must  refer 
to  salvation  by  grace.  Read  the  next  verse.  "Not 
of  works,  lest  any  man  should  boast  !  "  What  is 
pot  of  works,  faith,  or  salvation  ?  To  say  that 
faith  is  not  of  works,  is  nonsense  ;  to  argue  that 
salvation  is  not  of  works,  is  to  do  just  what  Paul 
is  doing. 

The  grace  of  God,  the  pardon  and  sympathy  and 
help  of  God,  is  God's  free  gift  ;  it  is  nothing  that 
we  have  earned  or  merited  ;  it  is  gratuity  ;  but  the 
faith  that  ajipropriates  the  gift  is  not  any  part  of 
the  gift.  God  does  not  give  us  faith  ;  He  gives 
us  salvation  tlirough  faith,  but  we  ourselves  must 
believe.  The  Israelites  in  the  wilderness  might 
have  said:  "  15y  this  manna  we  are  sustained 
throjgh  eating  it  ;  it  is  not  any  food  that  we  have 
provided,  it  is  the  gift  of  (iod."  But  would  that 
imply  that  the  eating  of  the  manna  was  the  gift  of 
God  ?  1  he  eating  of  the  manna  bore  tlie  same 
relation  to  the  sustenance  of  the  life  of  those  who 
ate  it,  that  faith  bears  to  salvation.  I'^aith  is  the 
act  by  which  ive  appropriate  God's  forgiveness 
and  Gods  saving  help. 

One  who  has  just  been  rescued  from  drowning 
might  say  :  "  By  the  strength  of  this  man  1  was 
saved,  through  taking  hold  of  this  rope.  My 
deliverance  from  death  was  not  wrought  out  by 
myself  ;  1  owe  it  all  to  my  friend."  But  he  would 
not  by  that  testimony  mean  to  imply  that  the 
taking  hold  of  the  rope  was  not  his  own  act. 

Salvation  is  a  gift  from  God.  But,  as  one  has 
forcibly  said,  "a  gift  is  not  a  gift  until  it  is 
accepted."  That  which  is  forced  upon  another 
without  his  consent  is  not  a  gift,  it  is  an  imposi- 
♦.ion.  A  dose  of  medicine  poured  down  the  throat 
of  an  unconscious  or  a  resisting  patient  is  not  in 
any  sense  a  gift.  The  word  implies  two  persons, 
one  of  whom  is  free  either  to  bestow  it  or  to  with- 
hold it  ;  the  other  of  whom  is  free  eitlier  to  accept 
it  or  to  reject  it.  The  act  of  accepting  salvation 
is  surely  man's  act,  and  that  act  is  faith.  Tlie  free 
act  of  God  in  bestowing  salvation  is  grace  ;  the 
free  act  uf  man  in  accepting  it  is  faith. 

—  Gladden. 

V.    PROOFS  OF  ITS  REALITY. 

1.  Holiness  of  heart  and  life. 

(197S.)  It  was  an  unhappy  division  that  has  been 
made  l>etween  faith  and  works.  Though  in  my 
intellect  1  may  divide  them,  jiist  as  in  the  candle 
I  know  there  is  both  light  and  heat,  but  yet  put 
out  the  candle,  and  tiiey  are  both  gone  ;  one 
remains  not  without  the  other :  so  it  is  betwixt 
faith  and  works.  Nay,  in  a  right  conception,  fides 
est  opus:  if  I  believe  a  thing  because  1  am  com- 
manded, that  is  opus. 

—  The  Tabu  Talk  of  John  Selden. 

(1979.)  True  faith  is  prolifical,  it  brings  forth 
fruit^;  faith  hath  Rachel's  beauty  and  Leah's  fruit- 
fulness.  —  Watson,  1696. 

(1980.)  True  faith  is  never  alone,  Hut  still  joined 
with  gospel-obedience:  "As  ye  have  received,  so 
walk.  '     He  that  would  disjoiu  faith  from  obedi- 


ence endeavours  to  walk  with  one  foot,  which  is 
impossible.  Faith  and  works,  faith  and  holiness, 
are  the  two  feet  by  which  a  man  doth  walk  in  Christ  : 
and  when  the  Sjiirit  of  Christ  doth  promote  the  one. 
He  doth  promote  the  otlier  also.  If  a  man  should 
essay  to  go  upon  one  foot,  he  could  not  walk,  but 
only  hop,  which  would  be  impossible  for  him  to 
continue  long  in  :  neither  can  obedience  be  without 
faith,  nor  faith  without  obedience  ;  but  accoiding 
to  the  measure  of  tlie  faiih,  such  will  be  the  mea- 
sure of  the  gospel-walk.  As  the  fuller  a  vessel  i» 
the  faster  will  it  run  over  at  the  lop  ;  so,  the  fuller 
views  a  man  ^ets  of  Christ,  by  faith,  the  faster  will 
he  run  in  the  way  of  evangelical  obedience. 

— hrskine,   1685-1752. 

(1981.)  Many  talk  of  practical  religion  in  our 
day,  but  few  know  what  it  is  to  walk  in  it  ;  they  are 
like  the  lark  that  sings  with  the  highest,  but  bu'lds 
with  the  lowest  :  some  sing  with  the  highest,  as  if 
they  were  alnnost  angels  ;  but  where  do  they  build  ? 
where  are  their  affections?  where  are  their  hearts, 
tlieir  aims,  their  ends  ?  They  are  low,  earthly,  and 
sensual.  You  that  profess  to  be  friends  to  the 
gospel,  oh,  let  the  mouths  that  reproach  religion  be 
stopped  by  the  power  of  religion  in  your  walk.  If 
the  world  call  us  Antinomians  ;  "It  is  the  will  of 
God,  that  by  well-doing  we  put  to  silence  the  ignor- 
ance of  foolisii  men."  We  account  them  the  greatest 
stars  that  give  the  greatest  light  ;  so  men  will 
account  them  still  the  greatest  Christians  that  give 
the  greatest  light,  by  their  gospel  practice,  in  holiness 
toward  God  and  righteousness  toward  men. 

— Erskiiie,  1685-1752. 

(1982.)  Another  reason  why  a  gospel  faith  should 
have  a  gospel-practice  is,  because  hereby  the  beauty 
of  failh  appears  to  others,  and  our  light  shines 
before  men,  so  as  they  seeing  our  good  works,  do 
glorify  God.  The  beauty  of  faith  is  seen  by  others, 
not  in  failh  itself,  but  in  the  gospel-walk  and  practice 
that  it  produces.  If  a  man  would  know  in  the 
morning  whether  the  sun  be  risen  in  the  east,  he  will 
readily  look  to  the  west,  and  see  whether  he  can 
notice  the  reflection  of  the  sunbeams  upon  the  top 
of  a  house  or  the  top  of  a  hill  ;  he  looks  the  quite 
contrary  way  from  the  sun  ;  and  yet  he  does  it 
ingeniously  enough:  even  so  here,  if  a  man  would 
know  you  to  be  a  believer,  he  will  not  look  into  your 
faith,  but  will  look  out  to  your  life,  or  look  back  to 
your  conversation,  and  see  what  marks  your  faith 
makes  there;  hence  saith  the  apostle,  "Show  me 
thy  failh  by  thy  works."  Faith  and  works  are 
contrary  in  point  of  justification,  and  yet  when  a 
man  would  see  your  faith,  he  will  look  to  the 
contrary  pait,  and  see  how  it  appears  in  your  walk 
and  work  :  and  if  it  appears  nol  there,  the  beauty 
of  faith  is  not  seen.  — Erskine,  1685-1752. 

('983.)  There  is  a  grievous  error  in  inquiring 
whether  we  have  faith,  instead  of  seeking  "the 
obedience  of  faith."  A  child  called  to  receive  an 
apple  is  at  no  loss  to  proceed.  Vet  the  grounds  on 
which  he  acts  are  not  more  obvious  and  appre- 
hensible than  are  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  in 
which  we  are  called  to  go  forth  to  thai  heaven 
which  stands  with  an  open  gate,  and  a  waving  flag  ol 
invitation  in  the  perspective  before  us.  The  child 
is  exclusively  led  on  by  its  regard  to  the  object. 
Still  there  is  another  process  going  on  in  the  recesses 
of  its  little  bosom,  though  uncon.sciously  But  it 
would  be  quite  preposterous  to  require  the  child  to 


FAITH. 


(    343    ) 


FAITH. 


be  quite  sure  that  it  had  faith  in  the  promise, 
l>efore  it  does  the  plain  thing  that  it  is  bidden, 
^nd  it  is  childish  folly  to  be  inquiring  whether  we 
have  faith,  when  we  should  be  exclusively  directing 
cur  attention  to  the  object  of  promise,  and  going 
forwards  at  the  voice  of  invitation. 

— Chalmers,  1 780- 1 847. 

(1984.)  The  faith  which  purifies  the  heart  is  an 
aciive  moving  thing.  Stagnant  waters  are  dead  ; 
springing  waters  are  wont  to  be  called  "living." 
Fountains  purify  themselves  :  standing  waters  do 
not  so.  What  doth  your  faith  do?  Doth  it  move 
your  heart?  Doth  it  transform?  It  is  "  with  the 
heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness."  But  when 
any  mast  say,  "  My  faith  lets  my  heart  lie  as  a  dead 
thing  still,  as  dead  as  a  stone  ;  an  impure  thing  still ;" 
is  this,  indeed,  the  faith  upon  which  you  will 
venture  for  eternity  ?  A  faith  that  effects  nothing, 
a  mere  negative  faith  ;  to  wit,  a  faith  which  only 
stands  in  not  believing  the  contrary,  or  not  disbeliev- 
ing such  and  such  things.  — Sailer. 

(1985.)  So  far  from  its  being  true  that  we  have 
to  trust  only,  to  leave  all  in  the  hands  of  Jesus, 
having  committed  ourselves  to  Him,  having  put 
our  faith  in  Him,  we  should  now  care  more  for  His 
commandmenis  than  ever ;  we  should  feel  more 
responsible  than  ever ;  we  should  feel  that  our 
obligations  are  heavier  ;  and  that,  more  than  ever, 
we  should  he  giving  ourselves  to  the  great  work  in- 
volved in  the  duties  of  the  Christian  life. 

Take  one  or  two  human  analogies,  which,  I  think, 
aptly  illustrate  the  case. 

A  sick  man  calls  in  a  physician,  in  whom  he 
has  the  most  entire  confidence.  He  believes  that 
the  physician  can  heal  him  :  he  commits  himself 
into  his  hantls.  He  tells  him,  "  1  leave  it  all  with 
you  ;  I  am  leaving  it  all  with  you."  Well,  is  that 
all  the  sick  man  does  ?  Does  he,  because  he  has 
left  it  all  with  the  physician,  do  nothing  more? 
Does  not  he  listen  to  what  the  physician  prescribes? 
Does  not  he  take  heed  to  follow  the  prescrip- 
tions? Does  not  he,  just  because  he  has  such 
iaith  in  the  physician,  does  he  not  take  care  what 
he  does,  is  he  not  careful  about  the  medicines, 
is  he  not  careful  about  the  food  he  takes,  is  he  not 
careful  about  the  exercise  prescribed  to  him,  is  he 
not  more  careful  than  ever  he  was  just  because  he 
has  such  a  veiy  strong  faith  in  this  physician  ?  If 
he  were  to  say  :  "Now,  I  couldn't  cure  myself.  I 
have  tried  many,  and  they  couldn't  cure  me  ;  and 
here  is  a  physician  at  last  who  inspires  me  with 
confidence.  He  can,  and  will,  cure  me.  I  will 
give  myself  up  to  him  ;  1  will  leave  myself  altogether 
with  tiiis  physician,  and  do  nothing  at  all,"-  he 
could  never  get  well — never,  of  course.  But  he 
never  would  do  that.  The  more  he  trusted  the 
physician  the  more  attentive  he  would  be  to  his 
prescriptions,  the  more  careful  he  would  be  in  his 
application,  the  more  he  would  do,  just  because  he 
had  such  a  strong  trust. 

Or,  a  soldier  is  in  a  battle-field,  and  on  the  eve 
of  battle,  and  his  commander  passes  him  by,  and 
tells  him  to  be  of  good  courage  and  to  trust  in  him, 
and  he  will  go  with  and  before  him  ;  he  will  carry 
him  safely  through,  and  give  him  the  victory.  And 
his  words  fire  the  soldier.  He  is  full  of  confidence, 
cool  and  courageous  in  the  front  of  the  battle, 
because  of  his  faith  in  the  commander.  But  does 
that    faith    j '  "elude    his    doing    anything    more  ? 


Should  he  not  do  all  the  more  because  he  trusts  the 
commander?  Does  he  not  fight  the  more  strenuously  ? 
Does  he  not  go  now  as  if  everything  tlepended  on 
him,  just  because  of  the  faith  he  has  in  his  com- 
mander? — David  '1  hoiuas,  B.A. 

(1986.)  "  I  am  the  way,"  says  Christ.  The  way 
to  walk  in,  not  to  look  at,  He  means.  If  the  night 
is  overcast,  if  we  are  anxious  to  accomplish  a 
journey,  and  a  friend  should  hail  us  in  the  dark- 
ness, saying,  "  I  am  the  way,  or,  "  I  will  show  you 
the  way,"  we  understand  his  meaning.  We  do 
not  fold  our  hands  and  sleep.  We  rush  into  the 
night  darkness,  follow  the  sound  of  his  footfall, 
and  try  to  be  so  near  as  to  catch  the  pantiiigs  of 
his  breath.  We  follow,  as  we  believe.  Simple 
intellectual  believing  will  never  speed  us  on  our 
journey,  or  bring  us  to  a  place  of  safety.  So  it  is 
with  Christ  as  the  Way  of  Life.         — 1  ownsend. 

2.  Humility. 

(1987.)  Faith  teacheth  the  creature  to  blot  out 
his  own  name,  and  write  the  name  of  God  in  its 
room  upon  all  he  hath  and  doth.  When  the 
servants  came  to  give  up  their  accounts  to  the 
Loril,  every  one  for  his  pound,  those  tliat  were 
faithful  to  improve  it,  how  humbly  and  self-deny- 
ingly  do  they  sjieak  !  "  Lord,  Thy  pound  hafli 
gained  ten  pounds,"  saith  the  first;  "Thy  pound 
liath  gained  five,"  saith  another.  Mark,  not  I  have 
gaineil,  but  Tliy  pound  hath  gained  ten,  and  five. 
They  do  not  applaud  themselves,  but  ascribe  both 
princijjal  and  increase  to  God  ;  Thy  talent  hath 
gained,  that  is.  Thy  gifts  and  grace,  through  Thy 
assistance  and  blessing,  have  gained  thus  much 
more.  Only  he  that  did  least  comes  in  with  a 
brag  and  tells  his  Lord  what  he  had  done,  "  Be- 
hold, here  is  Thy  pound  which  I  have  kept  laid 
up  in  a  napkinc"  Least  doers  are  greatest  boa-ters. 
— Guriiail,    1617-1679. 

(1988.)  Walking  in  Christ  excludes  a  w.ilking 
in  self;  for  the  more  that  a  man  walks  in  Christ, 
the  more  does  he  walk  out  of  self;  as  Chiist  comes 
in,  self  goes  out  ;  when  Christ  is  received,  self  is 
expelled.  The  self-righteous  sinner  is  like  an 
empty  bottle  filled  with  nothing  but  air  ;  but  pour 
wine  into  the  bottle,  and  as  the  wine  gtx's  in,  the 
air  goes  out  ;  so,  the  soul  is  filled  with  nothing  but 
airy  speculations,  and  a  light,  vain  esteem  of  him- 
self; but  let  Christ  in,  let  the  wine  of  the  Spirit 
be  poured  into  the  soul;  as  that  wine  goes  in,  the 
air  will  go  out.  — Erskine,    16S5-1752. 

(1989.)  You  may  measure  your  faith  and  interest 
in  Christ,  not  by  the  degree  of  your  persuasion 
concerning  Him  as  a  Saviour,  but  rather  by  the 
degree  of  this  virtue  and  power  in  you  as  a  Lord  ; 
it  is  better  to  measure  it  by  the  depth  of  His  work  in 
you  than  by  the  height  of  your  confidence  in  llim, 
which  may  be  too  proud  and  bold.  If  you  should 
meet  a  man  travelling  upon  the  way,  and  should 
ask  him  how  many  hours  high  the  sun  is,  you  need 
not  marvel,  if  instead  of  looking  up  to  the  sun  to 
see  how  high  it  is,  he  should  look  down  to  your 
shadow  to  see  how  short  it  is  ;  for  he  can  tell  that 
way  better  than  looking  upon  the  sun  itself ;  even 
so,  if  a  man  would  judge  how  much  of  Christ  is 
in  him,  the  best  way  to  try  is  rather  to  look  down- 
ward than  upward  ;  look  into  y^ur  heart,  and  see 
what  dash  your  pride  hath  got,  and  what  abate, 
nient  your   corruption   is   brought  under ;  for  Xha 


FAITH. 


(    344    ) 


FAITH. 


shorter  these  dark  shadows  are  in  you,  the  higher 
is  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  Now,  the  grand 
corruption  of  the  heart  of  man,  the  great  root-sin, 
whicli  sets  itself  against  Christ  as  a  Lord,  I  will 
tell  you  what  it  is,  it  is  that  lord  of  all  misrule, 
SELF  ;  that,  is  the  lord  that  lords  it  over  you  ;  and 
all  other  sins  are  but  the  brats  of  Self;  they  are 
but  under-servants  to  this  great  lord  of  self-love, 
self- pride,  and  self-righteousness.  Now,  a  true 
believer  is  righteous  by  the  righteousness  of  an- 
other ;  he  lives  by  the  life  of  another  ;  he  is  acted  on 
by  the  spirit  of  another  ;  and,  therefore,  he,  of  any 
man  in  the  world  should  have  least  of  self  in  him  ; 
because  Christ,  as  Lord,  doth  absolutely  set  Him- 
self against  this  great  corruption.  And  therefore,  if 
you  would  know  one  excellent  way  of  judging  of 
Jesus  Christ  the  Lord,  His  being  in  you,  it  is  by 
the  breaking  and  casting  down  of  self;  for  the 
more  full  that  a  man  is  of  self,  the  more  empty  is 
Le  of  Christ  ;  and  the  more  full  he  is  of  Christ,  the 
more  empty  he  is  of  self;  for  the  lord  self,  and  the 
Lord-Christ,  cannot  stand  together  :  the  lordship 
of  Christ  and  the  lordship  of  self  are  inconsistent  : 
when  you  receive  the  Lord-Christ,  then  the  lord- 
self  is  unthroned  and  thrown  down. 

— Erskine^  1685-1752. 

VI.     WEAK  FAITH. 

1.  May  be  true  faith. 

(1990.)  The  little  finger  lives  the  same  life  as  the 
hand  or  the  foot  does.     So  a  weak  Christian  who 
has  little  grace,  he  lives  by  the  same  faith  in  Christ 
that  is  in  glory,  as  well  as  they  that  are  stronger. 
—Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(1991.)  Diversity  of  degrees  in  quantity  of  a  thing 
does  not  annihilate  the  existence  and  true  being 
thereof.  A  small  drop  of  water  is  as  well  and 
truly  water  as  the  whole  ocean  ;  a  little  spark  is  as 
true  fire,  both  in  respect  of  substance  and  quality, 
as  well  as  a  mighty  flame ;  a  little  man  is  as  truly 
a  man  as  a  great  giant.  And  so  a  little  faith  is  as 
well  a  true  faith  as  a  full  persuasion. 

— Downame,  1644. 

(1992.)  Though  it  be  evident  that  divers  of  the 
saints  mentioned  in  the  Scriptures  had  a  far  greater 
measure  of  faith,  and  brought  forth  much  more 
plentiful  fruits  than  we  can  perceive  in  ourselves, 
yet  this  is  no  good  reason  to  prove  that  our  weaker 
and  smaller  faith  is  no  faith,  or  ineffectual  for  our 
salvation.  For  this  is  an  absurd  consequence — The 
moon  gives  much  less  light  than  the  sun,  therefore 
it  gives  no  light  at  all ;  one  hand  is  far  greater  than 
another,  therefore  the  lesser  is  not  a  true  hand  ; 
this  man  excels  another  in  the  use  of  reason,  and 
therefore  the  other  is  unreasonable.  The  divers 
degrees  in  the  quantity  of  things  do  not  take  away 
the  truth  of  their  being  and  existence,  so  long  as 
they  are  of  the  same  nature  and  quality. 

— Downame,  1644. 

('993')  Smoke  is  of  the  same  nature  with  flame, 
for  what  is  flame  but  smoke  set  on  fire?  The  least 
Bpark  of  fire,  if  cherished,  will  endeavour  to  rise 
above  the  air,  as  well  as  the  greatest  :  so,  a  little 
grace  may  be  true  grace,  as  the  filings  of  gold  are 
as  good  as  gold,  though  nothing  so  much  of  it,  as  the 
whole  wedge.  A  reed  shaken  with  the  wind  is  taken 
(or  a  thing  very  contemptible  at  the  best ;  how 
much   more  when  it  is  lu-uised?    The  wick  of  a 


candle  is  little  worth,  and  yet  less  when  it  comes  to 
smoke,  as  yielding  neither  light  nor  heat,  but  only 
stink  and  annoyance,  such  as  men  bear  not  with, 
but  tread  out.  So  doth  not  God,  who  hath  a 
singular  sagacity,  and  can  soon  resent  the  least  of 
provocations ;  yet  the  bruised  reed  He  will  not 
break,  and  the  smoking  flax  He  will  not  quench; 
nay,  the  very  pantings,  inquietations,  and  unsatis- 
fiablcness  in  the  matter  of  grace  spring  from  the 
truth  of  grace,  and  are  such  as  God  makes  high 
esteem  of.  — Trapp,  1601-1669. 

(1994.)  If  a  prince  say  to  a  beggar.  Go  out  of  thy 
own  country  with  me  in  this  ship,  and  trust  me  to 
convey  thee  to  Mexico  or  China,  and  I  will  make 
thee  a  lord  or  prince  ;  if  he  venture  and  go  with 
him,  though  lie  trembles  with  fear  at  every  wave  or 
pirate  in  the  voyage,  he  truly  truste'h  him,  and 
shall  speed  accordingly.  If  a  physician  say,  "Trust 
me  and  take  my  medicine,  and  I  will  indtitake  to 
cure  you,''  if  the  patient  take  his  medicine,  he  shall 
be  cured,  though  he  tremble  witl)  fear,  and  doubt 
of  the  success :  he  trusteth  him  practically,  if  he 
cast  his  hopes  upon  him,  though  with  fear.  Though 
faith  and  obedience  be  formally  two  things,  faith, 
which  will  cause  us  to  consent,  venture,  and  follow 
or  obey  Christ  :  preferring  heaven,  whatever  we 
lose  by  it,  is  saving  faith,  whatever  doubts,  fears,  or 
disquietmeiit  remain.  If  this  were  better  understood, 
timorous  and  melancholy  Christians  (who  know 
there  is  none  but  Christ  to  trust  to,  and  therefore 
resolve  to  be  ruled  by  Him)  would  not  so  ordinarily 
think  they  have  no  true  faith,  because  it  doth  not 
cast  out  all  their  doubts  and  fears,  and  quiet  and 
comfort  them  ;  which  indeed  a  strong  faith  would 
do,  which  is  not  hindered  by  error  or  diseases. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(1995.)  A  weak  faith  may  have  a  swooning  fit, 
as  to  fail  extraordinarily  in  an  hour  of  temptation, 
so  far  as  to  deny  Christ  or  shrink  from  Him  in  this 
fear  :  so  did  Peter  ;  and  not  only  he,  but  "all  the 
disciples  forsook  Him,  and  fled."  But  yet  he  that, 
according  to  the  habituated  state  of  his  soul,  hath  so 
much  faith  and  love  as  will  cause  him  to  venture 
life  and  all  upon  the  trust  which  he  hath  to  the 
promises  of  the  gospel,  hath  a  true  and  saving 
faith.  And  here  1  desire  all  doubling  Christians 
to  lay  by  the  common  mistake  in  the  trying  of  their 
faith  or  trust  in  Christ,  and  to  go  hereafter  upon 
surer  grounds.  Many  say,  "  I  cannot  believe  or 
trust  Christ  for  salvation,  for  I  am  full  of  doubts, 
and  fears,  and  troubles ;  and  surely  this  is  not 
trusting  God.  The  question  is  not,  whether  you 
trust  llim  perfectly,  so  as  to  have  no  fears,  no 
troubles,  no  doubts  ;  but  whether  you  trust  Him 
sincerely,  so  far  as  to  venture  all  upon  Him  in  His 
way.  If  you  can  venture  all  on  Him,  and  let  go 
all  to  follow  Him,  your  faith  is  true  and  saving 

This  would  abundantly  comfort  many  feaiful, 
troubled  Christians,  if  they  did  but  understand  it 
well  ;  for  many  of  them  that  thus  fear  would  as 
soon  as  any  forsake  all  for  Christ,  and  let  go  all 
carnal  pleasures  and  worldly  things,  or  any  wilful 
sin  whatsoever  rather  than  forsake  Him  ;  and 
would  not  take  to  any  other  portion  and  felicity 
than  God,  nor  any  other  way  than  Christ  and  the 
Spirit  of  Holiness,  for  all  the  temptations  in  the 
world  :  and  yet  they  fear  because  they  fear ;  and 
doubt  more  because  they  doubt.  Doubting  soul. 
Jet  this  resolve  thee  ;  suppose  Chri'st  and  l^Iis  way 


FAITH. 


(    34S    ) 


FAIl^H. 


were  like  a  pilot  with  his  ship  at  sea  ;  many  more 
promise  to  convey  thee  safely,  and  many  persuade 
ihoe  not  to  venture,  but  stay  at  land  :  but  if  thou 
hast  so  much  trust  as  that  t!.ou  wilt  go,  and  put 
thyself,  and  all  thou  hast  into  this  ship,  and  forsake 
all  other,  though  thou  go  trembling  all  the  way, 
and  be  afraid  of  every  storm  and  tempest  and 
gulf;  yet  thou  hast  true  faith  though  it  be  weak. 
]f  thy  faith  will  but  keep  thee  in  the  ship  with 
Christ,  that  thou  neither  turn  back  again  to  the 
flesh  and  the  world  ;  nor  yet  take  another  ship 
and  pilot  (as  Mahometans,  and  those  without  the 
(!hurch),  undoubtedly  Christ  will  bring  thee  safe  to 
land,  though  thy  fear  and  mistrust  be  still  thy  sin. 
— Baxter,    i6 1 5- 169 1. 

(1996.)  Although  the  pearl  of  faith  be  small,  it 
shines  gloriously  in  God's  eye.  A  goldsmith  values 
filings  of  gold.  That  little  spark  in  that  smoking  flax 
is  a  ray  and  beam  of  God's  own  glory.  The  greatest 
prace  was  once  but  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed. 
The  oak  was  once  an  acorn.  Abraham's  faith  was 
once  in  its  infancy.  — IVatson,   1696. 

2.  Is  sufficient  to  save. 

(1997.)  As  a  little  child  doth  as  truly  hold  a 
precious  ring  with  his  finger  as  a  giant  with  all  the 
force  of  his  hanil,  being  one  and  the  selfsame  ring : 
so  our  faith,  whether  it  be  weak  or  strong,  takelh 
hold  upon  the  merits  of  Christ. 

—  Cawdray,   1 609. 

(1998.)  Suppose  that  a  prince  be  disposed  to 
bestow  on  sundry  malefactors  a  pardon,  or  some 
precious  jewels  (as  signals  of  his  civil  respects)  unto 
mere  beggars,  is  not  the  one  as  fully  acquitted  from 
his  offences,  and  the  other  made  as  actually  rich  by 
the  possession  of  such  jewels,  though  but  received 
with  a  palsy-shaking  hand,  as  they  that  receive 
them  with  one  that  is  more  strong  and  lusty?  Even 
so  the  case  is  here  :  Hast  thou  such  a  hand  as  doth 
reach  out  unto  Christ,  and  the  pardon  of  sins 
offered  in  and  by  liira,  and  dost  clasp  it  about 
Him  with  all  thy  feeble  strength — make  no  doubt 
but  that  thou  art  justified  in  the  sight  of  God,  and 
dost  stand  clearly  acquitted  from  all  thy  sins.  For 
it  is  the  possession  of  the  jewel,  not  the  strong 
holding  of  it,  that  made  those  beggars  rich  ;  and 
the  king's  pardon  relieveth  none  but  such  as  are 
willing  to  accept  of  it,  and  plead  to  it  ;  and  so  it 
is  not  our  strong  or  weak  faith  that  is  our  righteous- 
ness and  full  discharge  before  God,  but  Jesus 
Christ  and  His  obedience — that  is  it  that  doth  all. 
This  only  is  required  on  our  part,  that  we  accept 
of  Christ  offered  in  the  gospel,  and  rely  on  Him 
for  full  righteousness  and  redemption  ;  all  which  a 
weak  and  feeble  faith  doth  as  truly  and  entirely  (if 
not  more)  as  the  strongest — nay,  which  is  yet  more 
for  the  comfort  of  such  as  are  weak  in  faith,  and 
cannot  yet  in  an  express  and  explicit  manner  be- 
lieve on  Christ,  they  have  Christ,  and  enjoy  Him 
unto  t'ghteousness,  and  the  pardon  of  all  their  sins 
and  transgressions  committed.       — Bayne,    1617. 

(1999.)  We  must  understand  that  faith  does  not 
Justify  and  save  us  by  itself,  as  it  is  a  virtue  or 
faculty  of  the  mind  and  heart,  or  in  respect  of  its 
own  excellency,  quantity,  and  worthiness  (for  what 
were  this  but  to  embrace  again  the  doctrine  of  the 
Papists  which  we  have  rejected,  and  to  seek  for 
jusiilication  in  ourselves,  and  for  our  own  merits  and 
woi  thmess  ?),  but  as  an  instrument,  whereby  we  lay 
hoid  of  and  apply  to  ourselves  Christ  with  His 


righteousness  and  merits,  by  which  only  we  ajjpear 
just  before  God.  A  small  and  weak  hand,  if  it  be 
able  to  reach  up  the  meat  to  the  mouth,  as  well 
performs  its  duty  for  the  nourishment  of  the  body  as 
one  of  greater  strength,  because  it  is  not  the  strength 
of  the  hand  but  the  goodness  of  the  meat  which 
nourishes  the  body  ;  so  a  weak  faith  laying  hold  of 
Christ,  and,  applying  Him  and  His  benefits  to  the 
believer,  is  sufticient  to  nourish  him  in  everlasting 
life,  as  well  as  a  stronger,  because  it  is  not  the 
worthiness  or  excellency  of  the  instrument,  but  of 
Christ  which  it  apprehends  that  is  effectual  for  our 
justification  and  eternal  salvation. 

A  small  and  weak  hand  is  able  to  receive  an  alms 
as  well  as  a  stronger  and  greater  ;  and  a  little  eye 
sees  the  whole  body  of  the  sun,  or  some  great 
mountain,  as  well  as  a  bigger  ;  so  our  faith,  though 
weak  and  small,  apprehends  Christ  as  truly  and 
effectually  for  the  salvation  of  the  believer,  as  the 
greatest. 

Our  Saviour  Christ  compares  Himself  to  the 
brazen  serpent,  and  the  believing  Christian  stung 
with  the  sting  of  sin  to  the  Israelites  who  beheld  it, 
to  the  end  that  they  might  be  cured.  (John  iii.  14.) 
Now  we  know  that  all  of  them  were  not  alike  sharp- 
sighted  ;  but  some  were  pur-blind,  some  blear-eyed, 
some  saw  it  exceeding  dimly.  But  as  many  as 
looked  on  it  were  cured  and  healed,  though  they 
were  never  so  weak-sighted.  So  whosoever  being 
stung  with  sin  do  look  upon  Christ  with  the  eye 
of  faith,  resting  upon  Him  alone  for  their  salvation, 
though  they  be  never  so  weak-sighted,  yet  they 
shall  be  restored  to  health  and  be  eternally  saved, 
because  it  is  not  in  their  sight  but  in  the  object 
thereof,  Christ  Jesus,  to  justify  them  before  God, 
and  to  purchase  fur  them  eternal  salvation. 

— Dowiiaine,  1644. 

(2000.)  God  accepts  the  will  and  earnest  desire  to 
believe  for  faith  itself;  nor  are  we  justified  for  the 
I'/erfection  of  our  faith,  but  for  the  perleciion  of  that 
obedience  which  our  faith  apjireliends.  Among 
the  Israelites  stung  with  serpents,  some  (likely)  had 
dim  eyes,  some  were  far  otf,  yet  by  looking  on  the 
brazen  serpent  they  were  healed  as  well  as  the 
clear-sighted,  to  show  that  they  were  not  cured  for 
the  virtue  of  their  sight,  but  for  the  ordinance  of 
God.  — Ada/ns,    1653. 

(2001.)  The  act  of  faith  is  to  apply  Christ  to  the 
soul  ;  and  this  the  weakest  faith  can  do  so  well  as 
the  strongest,  if  it  be  true.  A  child  can  hold  a 
staff  as  well,  though  not  so  strongly,  as  a  man. 
The  prisoner  through  a  hole  sees  the  sun,  though 
not  as  perfectly  as  they  in  the  open  air.  They  that 
saw  the  brazen  serpent,  though  a  great  way  off,  yet 
were  healed.  The  poor  man's  "I  believe  "  saved 
him  ;  though  he  was  fain  to  add,  "  Lord,  help  my 
unbelief."  So  that  we  may  say  of  faith,  as  the  jioet 
of  death  ;  that  it  makes  lords  and  slaves,  apostles 
and  common  persons,  all  alike  acceptable  to  God, 
if  they  have  it.  — Adams,   1653. 

(2002,)  A  friend  complained  to  Gott/iold  oi  the 
weakness  of  his  faith,  and  the  distress  this  gave 
him.  Golthold  pointed  to  a  vine  which  had  twined 
itself  around  a  pole,  and  was  hanging  loaded  v\iih 
beautiful  clusters,  and  said  :  Frail  is  that  plant  ; 
but  what  hanu  is  done  to  it  by  its  frailty,  especially 
as  the  Creator  has  been  pleased  to  make  it  what 
it  \%t    As  little  will  il  prejudice  your  faith,  that  it 


FAITH. 


(     346    ) 


FAITH. 


is  weak,  provided  only  it  be  sincere  and  unfeigned. 
Faiih  is  the  work  of  God,  and  He  bestows  it  in 
such  measure  as  He  wills  and  judges  right.  Let 
the  measure  of  it  which  He  has  given  you,  be 
deemed  sufficient  by  you.  Take  for  pole  and  prop 
the  cross  of  the  Saviour  and  the  Word  of  God  ; 
twine  around  these  with  all  the  power  which  God 
vouchsafes.  A  heart  sensii^Ie  of  its  weakness,  and 
prostrating  itself  continually  at  the  feet  of  the 
Divine  mercy,  is  more  acceptable  than  that  which 
presumes  upon  the  strength  of  its  faith,  and  falls 
into  security  and  pride.  Can  you  suppose  that  the 
sinful  woman  who  lay  and  wept  at  the  Lord's  feet, 
was  less  approved  than  the  swelling  and  haughty 
Pharisee?     (Luke  vii.  38.) — Scaver,    1629-1693. 

(2003.)  What  can  be  more  feeble  than  the  ivy, 
the  jessamine,  or  the  vine?  Vet  these,  by  the 
assistance  of  their  tendrils  or  claspers,  rise  and  are 
supported,  until  they  sometimes  mount  as  high  as 
the  tree  that  sustains  them.  So  the  weak  believer, 
laying  hold  on  Jesus  by  the  tendril  of  faith,  rises 
into  the  fulness  of  God,  defies  the  storm,  and  be- 
comes a  fruitful  vine  upon  the  wail  of  an  house. 
—  Toplady,    1740-1778. 

3.  Thoug-li  TTeak,  Is  of  all  things  most  precious. 
(2004.)    As  a  dim,  dazzling  (wavering)  eye  that 

looked  on  the  brazen  serpent  in  the  wiklerness,  was 
of  more  avail  to  a  poor  Israelite  then  stung  with  a 
fiery  serpent,  than  any  use  that  could  possibly  be 
made  of  all  his  other  members — little  could  the 
swiftness  of  his  feet,  strength  of  body,  nimbleness 
of  hands,  volubility  of  tongue,  quickness  of  the  ear, 
or  anything  else  have  prevailed,  had  there  not  been 
an  eye  to  have  looked  on  it  :  so,  without  faith,  we 
lie  dead  in  sins  and  trespasses,  and  cannot  but 
perish  of  the  mortal  stings  which  Satan  hath 
blistered  us  withal  ;  so  that,  had  we  perfect  re- 
pentance, sound  knowledge,  and  sincere  love,  not 
one  of  them,  nor  all  of  them  together,  could  possibly 
cure  us,  if  there  were  not  faith  to  apprehend  Christ 
for  our  satisfaction  and  propitiation  for  all  our  sins. 
It  is  only  faith  in  Christ — a  true  faith,  though  a 
weak,  dim-sighted  faith — ihat,  looking  up  to  the 
typified  serpent,  Christ  Jesus,  can  cure  our  wounded, 
sin-sick  souls,  and  make  us  here  to  live  unto  God, 
and  liereafter  in  all  happiness  with  Him. 

— Bayne,  161 7. 

4.  There  may  be  faitli  where  there  Is  no  as- 
■urajice. 

(2005.)  Faith  is  not  assurance.  If  it  were.  Saint 
John  might  have  spared  his  p:iins,  wlio  wrole  lo 
thfm  I  hat  belirce  on  the  name  of  the  Son  of  Ooti, 
that  they  might  kno^M  that  they  hat  eternal  life. 
They  might  then  have  said,  "  We  do  this  already." 
Wliat  else  is  oui  faith,  but  a  believing  that  we  are 
such  as  through  Christ  are  pardoned,  and  shall 
through  Him  be  saved?"  But  this  cannot  be  so. 
If  faith  were  assurance  ;  then  a  man's  sins  would 
be  pardoned  before  he  ijelieves,  for  he  must  neces- 
sarily be  pardoned  before  he  can  know  he  is 
pardoned.  The  candle  must  be  lighted  before  I  can 
see  it  is  lighted.  The  child  must  be  born  before 
I  can  be  assured  it  is  born.  The  object  must  be 
before  the  act.  Assurance  is  rather  the  fruit  of 
faith,  than  faith  itself.  It  is  in  faith  as  the  flower 
is  in  the  root  ;  faith  in  time,  after  much  communion 
with  God,  acquaintance  with  the  Word,  and  ex- 
perience of  His  dealinijs  with  the  soui,  may  flourish 


into  assurance.  But  as  the  root  truiy  lives  befcr* 
the  flower  appears,  and  continues  when  that  hath 
shed  its  beautilul  leaves,  and  is  gone  again  :  so  doth 
true  justifying  faith  live  before  assurance  comes 
and  after  it  disappears.  Assurance  is,  as  it  were, 
the  cream  of  faith.  Now  you  know  there  is  milk 
before  there  is  cream,  (this  riseth  not  but  alter 
sometime  standing),  and  there  remains  milk  after  it 
is  fleted  off. 

How  many,  alas,  of  the  precious  saints  of  God 
must  we  shut  out  from  being  believers,  if  there  is 
no  faith  but  what  amounts  to  assurance.  We  must 
needs  offend  against  the  generation  of  God's  chil- 
dren, among  whom  some  are  babes  not  yet  come  to 
the  use  of  their  reflect  act  of  faith,  so  as  to  own  the 
grace  of  God  in  them  to  be  true,  upon  the  review 
that  they  take  of  their  own  actings  ;  and  must  not 
the  child  be  allowed  to  be  a  chikl  till  he  can  speak 
for  himself,  and  say  he  is  so?  Others  there  are  in 
Christ's  family,  who  are  of  higher  stature  and 
greater  experience  in  the  ways  of  God,  yet  have  lost 
those  apprehensions  of  pardoning  mercy,  which 
once  they  were  (through  the  goodness  of  God) 
able  to  have  shown  ;  shall  we  say  their  faith  went 
away  in  the  departure  of  their  assurance?  How  oft 
then  in  a  year  may  a  believer  be  no  believer?  even 
as  often  as  God  withdraws  and  leaves  the  creature 
in  the  dark.  Assurance  is  like  the  sun-flower, 
which  opens  with  the  day  and  shuts  with  the 
night.  It  follows  the  motion  of  God's  face;  it 
that  looks  smilingly  on  the  soul,  it  lives  ;  if  that 
frowns  or  hides  itself,  it  dies.  But  faith  is  a  plant 
that  can  grow  in  the  shade,  a  grace  that  can  find 
the  way  to  heaven  in  a  dark  night.  It  can  '^ivalk  in 
darkness,  and  yet  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

In  a  word,  by  making  the  essence  of  faith  to  lie 
in  assurance,  we  should  not  only  offend  against  the 
generation  of  God's  children,  but  against  the  CJod 
and  P"ather  of  these  children  ;  for  at  one  clap  we 
turn  the  greater  nun.lier  of  those  children  He  hath 
here  on  earth  out  of  doors,  yea,  we  .are  cruel  to 
those  that  He  is  most  tender  of,  and  make  sad  the 
hearts  of  those  that  He  would  have  chiefly  com- 
forted. Indeed,  if  this  were  true,  a  great  part  of 
gosiiel-provision  laid  up  in  the  promises  is  of  little 
use  ;  we  read  of  promises  to  those  that  mourn, 
"  they  shall  he  comforted ;^'  to  the  contrite,  ^' they 
shall  be  reinxed ;'"  to  him  that  walks  in  darkness 
(Isa.  1.)  and  the  like: — these  belong  to  believei-s, 
anil  none  else  ;  surely  then  there  are  some  believers 
that  are  in  the  dark,  under  the  hatches  of  sorrow, 
wounded  and  broken  with  their  sins  and  tempta- 
tion for  them  ;  they  are  not  such  as  are  assured  of 
the  love  of  God  ;  but  their  mourning  is  turned  into 
joy,  their  night  into  light,  their  sighs  and  sol)S  into 
praise.  — Gnrnall,    1617-1679. 

6.  How  its  strength  Is  to  he  measured. 

(2006.)  Faith  works  by  love,  and  therefore  its 
strength  or  v/eakness  may  be  discovered  by  the 
strength  or  weakness  of  that  love  it  puts  forth  in 
the  Christian's  actings.  The  strength  of  a  mau'j 
arm  that  draws  a  bow  is  seen  by  the  force  the 
arrow  which  he  shoots  flies  with.  And,  certainly, 
the  strength  of  our  faith  may  be  known  by  the 
force  that  our  love  mounts  to  God  with.  It  is  im- 
possible that  weak  faith  (which  is  unable  to  draw 
the  promise  as  a  strong  faith  can)  should  l(;ave 
such  a  forcible  impression  on  the  heart  to  lovf  God, 
as  the  stronger  faith  doth.  If  therefore  thy  heirt 
be    strongly    carried    out    from   love   lo   God,  to 


FAITH. 


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FAITH. 


abandon  sin,  perform  duty,  and  exert  acts  of  obedi- 
ence to  His  command,  know  thy  place,  and  take 
it  with  humble  thankfulness ;  thou  art  a  graduate  in 
the  art  of  believing.  — Gitrnall,    1617-1679. 

VII,    MUST  BE  STRENGTHENED. 

1.  That  we  may  not  be  overcome  by  temptation. 

(2007.)  The  Christian's  strength  lies  in  his  faith, 
as  Samson's  in  his  hair  ;  if  the  uncircumcised  one 
can  deprive  us  of  this,  he  may  make  sport  enough 
with  us.  Hence  it  is  that  Satan's  cliielest  guns  are 
shot  against  the  royal  fort  of  failh,  knowing  that 
that  commands  all;  and  if  he  can  make  a  breach 
here,  he  fears  not  but  to  enter  with  success.  The 
first  mine  which  he  ever  sprang,  to  blow  up  the 
first  Adam  and  his  wife,  and  in  them  the  whole 
race  of  mankind,  was  by  weakening  their  faith  : 
*•'  1/ath  God  said,  In  the  day  ye  eat  thereof,  ye  shall 
die?"  When  he  came  to  the  second  Adam,  he 
endeavoured  to  slay  Him  with  the  same  sword  ; 
"  If  Thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  command  that 
these  stones,  &c."  — Siviiinock,   1673. 

(2008.)  If  thou  wouldst  preserve  thy  faith,  labour 
Id  increase  thy  faith.  None  are  in  more  danger  of 
losing  what  they  have,  than  those  poor-spirited 
men  who  are  content  with  what  they  have.  A 
spark  is  sooner  smothered  than  a  flame ;  a  drop 
easier  drank  up  and  dried  than  a  river.  The 
stronger  thy  faith  is,  the  safer  thy  faith  is  from  the 
enemy's  assaults.  The  intelligence  which  an  enemy 
hath  of  a  castle  being  weakly  provided  for  a  siege, 
is  enough  to  bring  him  against  it,  which  else 
should  not  have  been  troubled  with  his  company. 
The  devil  is  a  coward,  and  he  loves  to  fight  on  tlie 
greatest  advantage,  and  greater  he  cannot  have 
than  the  weakness  of  the  Christian's  failh  ;  didst 
thou  but  know,  Christian,  the  many  privileges  of 
a  strong  failh  above  a  weak,  thou  wouldst  never 
rest  till  thou  hadst  it.  Strong  faith  comes  con- 
queror out  of  those  temptations,  where  weak  faith 
is  foiled  and  taken  prisoner.  Those  Philistines 
could  not  stand  before  Samson  in  his  strength  who 
durst  dance  about  him  scornfully  in  his  weakness. 
When  David  s  faith  was  up,  how  undauntedly  did 
he  look  death  in  the  face!  (i  Sam.  xxx.  6.)  But 
when  that  \^  as  out  of  his  heart,  oh,  how  poor-spirited 
is  he  !  ready  to  run  his  head  into  every  holt-, 
though  never  so  dislionourably,  to  save  himself! 
(1  Sam.  xxi.  13.)  — Guniali,    161 7-1679. 

(2CX59.)  There  is  as  real  a  difference  between  the 
strong  believer  and  the  weak,  or  rather,  I  should 
say,  between  the  believer  who  exercises  strong 
faith,  and  the  believer  who  has  but  a  partial  and 
weak  faith,  as  there  is  among  the  armies  that  fight 
human  battles,  between  the  veriest  coward  that 
ever  disgraced  the  standard  untler  which  he  fought, 
and  the  bravest  soldier  who  was  the  admiration  of 
his  friends  and  foes.  For  tlie  one  who  exercises 
strong  failh  is  ready  to  fight  the  strong  fight  of  this 
world  :  on  the  contrary,  the  man  who  is  not  able 
to  exercise  faith  in  God's  promises  is  scarcely  able 
to  hide  himself  from  those  foes  which  surround 
him  :  his  thoughts  are  not  in  achieving  victory — his 
State  is  not  fit  for  fighting  the  good  fight  of  faith — 
he  is  altogether  occupied  in  resisting  liiose  tempta- 
tions to  which  his  unbelief  is  daily  exposing  him. 

— Bapcisi  Noil- 


(2010.)  The  ship  does  not  ride  the  stonn  other- 
wise than  by  the  hold  her  anchor  takes  of  the  solid 
ground.  Hy  that  which  lies  in  the  calm  depths 
below,  as  little  moved  by  the  waves  that  swell,  and 
roll,  and  foam  above,  as  by  the  winds  that  lash 
them  into  fury,  she  resists  the  gale,  and  rides  the 
billows  of  the  stormiest  sea.  But  her  safety  de- 
pends on  something  else  also.  When  masts  are 
struck  and  sails  are  furled,  and,  anchoied  off  reef 
or  rocky  shore,  she  is  labouring  in  the  wild  tumult 
for  her  life,  it  likewise  lies  in  the  strength  of  her 
cable  and  of  the  iron  arms  that  grasp  the  solid 
ground.  By  these  she  hangs  to  it  ;  and  thus  not 
only  the  firm  earth,  but  their  strength  also  is  her 
security.  Let  the  flukes  of  the  anchor,  or  strands 
of  the  cable  snap,  and  her  fate  is  sealed.  Nothing 
can  avert  it.  Powerless  to  resist,  and  swept  for- 
ward by  the  sea,  she  drives  on  to  ruin  ;  and  hurled 
against  an  iron  shore,  her  timbers  are  crushed  to 
]3ieces  like  a  shell.  And  what  anchor  and  cable 
are  to  her,  the  faith  by  which  man  makes  God's 
strength  his  own  is  to  believers  in  their  times  of 
trial.  — Lulhrie. 

2.  That  all  our  other  ^aces  may  be  caused  to 
floiirlsh. 

(201 1.)  The  apostle  says,  "By  faith  ye  stand." 
He  does  not  say,  by  patience,  or  by  hojie,  or  the 
like.  They  are  drawn  from  faith.  Strengthen  that, 
and  strengthen  all  other  that  are  infused  from  it. 
As  a  tree,  we  cast  not  water  on  the  branches,  but 
on  the  root.  So  strengthen  faith.  We  strengthen 
love,  and  hope,  and  all,  if  we  strengthen  failh  and 
assurance  of  God's  love  in  Christ. 

— iiibbes,  1 577-1635, 

(2012.)  The  decay  of  a  plant,  though  it  appeart 
first  from  the  withering  of  the  twigs  and  branches, 
yet  it  chiefly  arises  from  a  decay  in  the  root.  So 
the  decay  of  grace  may  appear  to  the  view,  first  in 
our  company,  carriage,  speeches,  &c.  ;  but  the  primi- 
tive and  original  ground  of  the  same  is  weakness  of 
faith  in  the  heart.  Therefore  it  should  be  our  wis- 
dom, especially,  to  look  to  the  feeding  of  the  root. 
—Sibbes,  1577-I635. 

(2013.)  Christians  are  placed  in  this  world  in  an 
inclement  atmosphere  ;  and  there  is  as  real  a  differ- 
ence between  him  who  exercises  strong  faith  and  he 
who  is  a  weak  and  partial  believer,  as  there  is 
between  the  hardy  and  daring  mountaineer  when  he 
carols  in  the  mountain  air  and  the  poor  consumptive 
sufferer  who  shivers  in  the  summer  breeze  'i"he 
one  is  able  to  withstand  no  temptation,  he  is  so 
languid  ;  he  feels  that  his  soul  is  sick,  he  feels  tbat 
he  has  nothing  of  the  vigour  and  thriving  of  a  well- 
ordered  soul  ;  wliereas  the  other,  who  exercises 
strong  failh,  is  growing  more  and  more  powerful, 
experiencing  the  promise  of  God  :  "  They  that 
wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  tenew  their  strength  ;  they 
shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles  ;  they  shall  run, 
antl  not  be  weary  ;  and  liey  shall  walk,  and  not 
faint,"  — Baptist  Noel. 

3.  That  our  comfortB  may  b<  Increased  and  our 
peace  perfected. 

(2014.)  As  two  ships  sailing  together,  the  one 
sound  and  well  tackled,  the  other  leaking  and  want- 
ing sails,  though  both  do  arrive  at  the  same  port, 
ye*  not  both  alike  disp  sed — the  one  comes  in 
ir.ei.Uy  and  confidently,  the  other  w.'lh  much  dif- 


FAITH. 


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FAITH. 


fioulty  and  doubting :  so  the  strong  in  faith  doth 
singingly  travel  towards  heaven,  goes  on  comfortably 
and  w  ith  full  assurance  ;  when  they  of  little  faith  do 
but,  as  it  were,  creep  thither  with  many  doubts, 
great  fears,  and  small  joy.  And,  therefore,  as  it  is 
no  wistlom  for  any  man  to  continue  poor  that  may 
be  rich,  or  to  live  in  fear  when  he  may  be  free  from 
it,  so  it  is  no  point  of  wisdom,  no  piece  of  Christian 
prudence,  for  a  man  to  content  himself  with  a  weak 
faith  when  by  any  means  he  may  increase  it. 

—  iVilliams. 

(2015.)  All  the  Christian's  strength  and  comfort 
is  fetched  without  doors,  and  he  hath  none  to  send 
on  his  errand  but  faith,  which  goes  to  heaven  and 
knocks  God  up  ;  therefore,  when  faith  fails,  and  the 
soul  hath  none  to  go  to  market  for  supplies,  there 
must  needs  be  a  poor  house  kept  at  home. 

— Gurnall,  1 6 1 7- 1 679. 

(2016.)  Strong  faith  frees  the  Christian  from  those 
heartrending  thoughts  which  weak  faith  must  needs 
be  oppressed  with.  "  '1  hou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect 
peace,  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee."  So  much 
mward  peace  and  quietness.  If  little  faith,  then 
little  peace  and  serenity,  through  the  storms  that 
our  unljeiieving  fears  will  necessarily  gather.  If 
strong  failh,  then  strong  peace,  for  so  the  ingemina- 
tion  in  the  Hebrew,  peace,  peace,  imports.  It  is  con- 
fessed that  weak  faith  hath  as  much  peace  with  God 
through  Christ  as  the  other  hath  by  his  strong  faith, 
but  not  so  much  bosom-peace.  Weak  faith  will 
as  surely  land  the  Christian  in  heaven  as  strong  failh  ; 
for  it  is  impossible  the  least  drachm  of  true  grace 
should  perish,  being  all  incorruptible  seed  ;  but  the 
weak,  doubting  Christian  is  not  like  to  have  so 
pleasant  a  voyage  thither,  as  another  with  strong 
faith.  Though  all  in  the  ship  come  safe  to  shore, 
yet  he  that  is  all  the  way  sea-sick  hath  not  so 
comfortable  a  voyage  as  he  that  is  strong  and 
healthful.  There  are  many  delightful  prospects 
occur  in  a  journey,  which  he  that  is  sick  and  weak 
loseth  the  pleasure  of;  but  the  strong  man  views 
all  with  abundance  of  delight ;  and  though  he  wish- 
eth  with  all  his  heart  he  were  at  home,  yet  the 
entertainment  he  hath  from  these  do  much  to  shorten 
and  sweeten  his  way  to  him. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2017.)  The  saint's  safety  lies  in  the  strength  and 
faithlulness  of  God  who  is  the  promiser  ;  but  the 
present  comfort  and  repose  of  an  afllicted  soul  is 
fetched  in  by  failh  relying  on  God  as  such.  Hence 
it  is,  thougli  all  believers  are  out  of  danger,  when  in 
the  saddest  condition  that  can  befall  them,  yet  too 
many  of  them,  alas,  are  under  fears  and  dejections  of 
spirit,  because  their  faith  acts  weakly  on  a  mighty 
God,  timorously  and  suspiciously  on  a  faithful  God  : 
*' Why  are  ye  fearful,  O  ye  of  little  faith?"  You 
see  the  leak  at  which  the  water  came  in  to  sink 
their  spirits,  they  had  "little  'aith."  It  is  not  what 
God  is  in  Himself,  but  what  our  apprehensions  at 
present  are  of  God,  that  pacifies  and  comforts  a  soul 
in  great  straits.  If  a  man  fear  the  house  will  fall 
on  his  head  in  a  storm,  though  it  be  as  unmovable 
as  a  rock,  yet  that  will  not  ease  his  mind  till  he 
thinks  it  so.  Were  a  man  under  the  protection  of 
never  so  faithful  a  friend,  yet  so  long  as  his  head  is 
full  of  fears  and  jealousies  to  the  contrary,  that  he 
will  at  last  leave  and  cast  him  off,  this  man  must 
needs  have  an  uncomfortable  life,  though  without 


cause.  You  see,  then,  of  what  importance  it  is  to 
keep  up  the  vigour  and  vivacity  of  thy  faith  on  the 
power  and  auth  of  the  promises ;  and  if  thou 
meanest  to  do  this,  banish  sense  and  reason  from 
being  thy  counsellors.  How  came  Abraham  not 
to  stagger  in  his  faith,  though  the  promise  was  so 
strange?  The  apostle  resolves  us,  "He  did  not 
consider  his  own  body"  (Rom.  iv,  19).  And  what 
made  Zacharias  reel?  He  made  sense  his  coun- 
sellor, and  thought  he  was  too  old  for  such  news 
to  be  true.  I'his  is  the  bane  of  faith,  and  con- 
sequently of  comfort  in  aflliction.  We  are  too 
prone  to  carry  our  faith  with  Thomas,  at  our 
linger  ends  ;  and  to  trust  God  no  further  than  our 
hand  of  sense  can  reach.  It  is  not  far  that  sense 
can  reach,  and  but  little  further  that  reason's  pur- 
blind eye  can  see.  God  is  oft  on  His  way  to  per- 
form a  promise,  and  bring  joyful  news  to  His 
afflicted  servants,  when  sense  and  reason  conclude 
their  case  desperate.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

4.  How  it  Is  to  be  strengthened. 

(2018.)  The  faith  to  which  the  Scriptures  attach, 
such  momentous  consequences,  and  ascribe  such 
glorious  exploits,  is  a  practical  habit,  which,  like 
every  other,  is  strengthened  and  increased  by  con- 
tinual exercise.  It  is  nourished  by  meditation,  by 
prayer,  and  the  devout  perusal  of  the  Scrijjtures; 
and  the  light  which  it  diffuses  becomes  stronger 
and  clearer  by  an  uninterrupted  converse  with  its 
object  and  a  faithful  compliance  with  its  dictates; 
as  on  the  contrary  it  is  weakened  and  obscured  by 
whatever  wounds  the  conscience  or  impairs  the 
purity  and  spirituality  of  the  mind. 

— Robert  hall,    17 64- 1 83 1. 

(2019.)  Activity  in  Christian  life  and  work  serves 
to  defend  and  preserve  the  Christian  faith.  It  does 
so  because  it  is  perpetually  proving  it,  Christianity 
is  a  science.  It  is  the  knowle<lge  of  God.  "This 
is  eternal  life,  to  know  Thee,  the  only  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ  whom  Thou  hast  sent.  But  Chris- 
tianity is  an  applied  science.  It  is  a  science  put 
into  daily  and  practical  use  ;  and  the  application  of 
the  science  of  the  knowledge  of  God  is  walking 
with  God.  Now,  it  is  with  this  just  as  it  is  with 
all  other  sciences,  whenever  you  apply  them  prac- 
tically. Every  time  you  apply  them  successfully, 
it  proves  the  truth  of  the  science.  Astronomy  is  a 
science.  It  teaches  us  the  measurement  of  distances 
and  the  nature  and  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 
Navigation  is  astronomy  applied  to  practice  ;  and 
by  the  help  of  what  astronomy  tells  the  sailor,  he  is 
able  to  steer  his  vessel  from  one  port  to  another, 
and  ascertain  exactly  from  his  chart  the  position  of 
his  vessel.  Is  it  not  clear  that  every  time,  out  at 
sea,  the  sailor  unfolds  his  map,  and  is  enabled  to 
mark  on  the  chart  the  very  spot  where  his  sliip  is  in 
the  world's  great  space — every  time  he  does  that  he 
has  a  fresh  proof  that  astronomy  is  true?  Every 
time  he  is  able  to  bring  his  ship  safely  into  pert  he 
has  a  fresh  proof  that  science  is  true.  And  sc  with 
every  practical  art  of  life,  wiiatever  it  may  be. 
Every  time  science  is  worked  out  into  your  daily 
life,  and  you  have  a  practical  proof  of  its  truth, 
your  belief  in  the  science  becomes  stronger  and 
stronger.  Can  the  sailor  prove  to  us  the  truth  of 
astronomy  ?  There  is  many  a  captain  or  mate  of 
a  vessel  who  carries  his  vessel  into  port,  who  ii 
quite  sure  bis  nautical  tables  are  all  true,  although 
he  cannot  astronomically  prove  then.     But  he  has  « 


FAITH. 


(     349    ) 


FAITH. 


practical  proof;  and  the  oftener  he  avails  himself 
of  that,  the  oftener  he  tests  the  science,  the  surer 
he  is  that  it  is  so.  So  with  our  faith.  It  is  a 
Divine,  an  abstract,  an  abstruse,  a  very  mysterious 
truth,  if  you  attempt  to  resolve  it  into  the  proof  of 
the  One  in  Three,  the  Three  in  One, — the  Trinity, 
the  Incarnation,  the  Atonement.  These  are  very 
mysterious  things.  How  shall  we  prove  them? 
We  prove  them  as  we  find  this  to  be  true,  that  the 
faith  that  makes  us  know  Him  makes  us  know 
ourselves,  and  brings  us  into  a  nearer,  and  living, 
and  a  deeper  communion  with  Him.  The  light 
from  heaven  shines  upon  the  path,  and  as  we  take 
it  step  by  step  we  feel  a  deeper  and  surer  conviction 
that  the  light  is  from  heaven.  Prayer  is  a  mystery 
— the  deepest  of  all  mysteries.  Who  can  prove  to 
tis  how  and  why  prayer  is  answered  ?  But  who 
kncrws  that  prayer  is  answered  ?  The  man  who  has 
gone  upon  his  knees  before  God  and  told  Him  all 
his  needs  ;  besought  Him  in  his  sorrow  ;  cried  for 
light  in  his  darkness,  and  has  risen  up  with  a  new 
light  and  a  new  strength  that  he  knows  has  come 
from  God.  "  So  walk  in  Christ,"  so  carry,  so 
work,  as  it  were,  the  Atonement,  the  Trinity,  the 
Incarnation,  the  mysteries  of  your  faith,  into  your 
life  that  they  shall  become  living  and  continued 
proofs  of  the  truth  of  your  faith  ;  and  then  that 
faith  will  have  its  daily  proof  from  your  daily  life. 

— Alagee, 

VIII.  ITS  RELATIONS  70  OTHER  FACUL- 
TIES, EM  or  IONS,  AND  GRACES. 

1.  Sight. 

(2020. )  Some  believe  the  better  for  seeing  Christ's 
sepulchre  ;  and  when  they  have  seen  the  Red  Sea, 
doubt  not  of  the  miracle.  Now,  contrarily,  I  bless 
myself,  and  am  thankful,  that  I  live  not  in  the  days 
of  miracles,  that  1  never  saw  Christ  nor  His  disciples. 
I  would  not  have  been  one  of  these  Israelites  that 
passed  the  Red  Sea,  nor  one  of  Christ's  patients  on 
whom  He  wrought  His  wonders  ;  then  had  my  faith 
been  thrust  upon  me ;  nor  should  I  enjoy  that 
greater  blessing  pronounced  to  all  that  believe  and 
saw  not.  'Tis  an  easy  and  necessary  belief  to  credit 
what  our  eye  and  sense  hath  examined  :  I  believe 
He  was  dead  and  buried,  and  rose  again  ;  and 
desire  to  see  Him  in  His  glory,  rather  than  to  con- 
template Him  in  His  cenotaph  or  sepulchre. 

— ^ir  7.  Browne,   1 605- 1 682. 

(2021.)  These  three  are  like  three  members  of 
the  body — the  hand,  foot,  and  eye.  Faith,  like  the 
hand,  lays  unremoved  hold  on  Christ.  Hope,  like 
the  foot,  walks  towards  Ilim  in  a  holy  expectation, 
patiently  enduring  all  wrongs,  in  hope  of  sweet 
issue.  Sight,  which  belongs  to  the  eye,  shall  fully 
apprehend  Him,  when  it  is  glorified. 

— Adams,  1653. 

a.  Reason. 

(2022.)  God  does  not  expect  us  to  submit  our 
faith  to  Him  without  reason,  or  to  subdue  us  to 
Himself  by  tyranny.  But  He  does  not  intend  to 
give  us  a  reason  for  everything.  And  to  reconcile 
these  contrarieties,  He  is  pleased  clearly  to  show  us 
those  divine  characters  of  Himself  which  may  con- 
vince us  of  what  He  is,  and  to  establish  his  authority 
^y  miracles  and  evidences  that  we  shall  be  unable 
to   resist, — in    order    that   we    might,    afterwards, 


believe  without  hesitation  whatever  He  teaches  us, 
when  we  find  no  other  reason  to  reject  it,  but 
because  we  are  unable  to  know  of  ourselves  whether 
it  is  true  or  not.  — Pascal. 

(2023.)  Religion  passes  out  of  the  law  of  reason 
only  where  the  eye  of  reason  has  reached  its  own 
horizon  ;  and  faith  is  then  but  its  continuation,  even 
as  the  day  softens  away  into  sweet  twilight,  and 
twilight,  hushed  and  breathless,  steals  into  darkness. 
It  is  night,  sacred  night  ;  the  upraised  eye  views 
only  the  stary  heaven,  which  manifests  itself  alone  ; 
and  the  outward  beholding  is  fixed  on  the  sparks, 
twinkling  in  the  awful  depth  (though  suns  of  other 
worlds)  only  to  preserve  the  soul  steady  and  collected 
in  its  pure  act  of  inward  adoration  to  the  great  "  / 
AM,"  and  to  "the  Filial  Word,"  that  reaffirmeth  it 
from  eternity  to  eternity,  whose  choral  echo  is  the 
universe.  — ■S,  T,  Coleridge. 

(2024.)  It  is  not  scriptural,  but  fanatical,  to 
oppose  faith  to  reason.  Faith  is  properly  opposed 
to  sense,  and  is  the  listening  to  the  dictates  of  the 
higher  part  of  our  mind,  to  which  alone  God  speaks, 
rather  than  to  the  lower  part  of  us,  to  which  the 
world  speaks.  — Arnold,  1795-1842. 

t.  Fear. 

(l.)   There  ma)  be  fear  where  there  is  no  faith. 

(2025.)  Legal  terrors  are  no  parts  of  faith  or 
conversion  ;  they  are  neither  essential  nor  integral 
parts.  Those  are  essential  parts  which  make  up 
the  essence  of  a  thing,  as  soul  and  body  are  the 
essential  parts  of  a  man.  Those  are  integral  parts 
which  make  up  the  entireness  of  a  thing,  as  the 
several  members  are  integral  parts  of  a  man's  body. 

Those  parts  which  give  the  essence  to  a  thing 
begin  with  it,  and  continue  with  it  while  it  is  in 
being,  b:ijt  these  terrors  cease  as  soon  as  faith 
begins,  and  so  they  are  no  essential  parts.  A  thing 
cannot  be  complete  without  its  integrals  ;  the  body, 
when  it  wants  some  members,  is  lame,  or  maimed, 
or  defective  ;  but  faith  may  be  entire  without  these  ; 
it  is  not  defective  when  these  are  vanished  ;  so  they 
are  not  integrals.  They  are  so  far  from  being 
parts,  as  they  arc  ff^  degrees  of  faith  ;  though  some 
step  to  it,  yet  r<^t  the  least  degree  of  it.  As  the 
dryness  of  wood  is  no  degree  of  heat  or  fire  which 
kindles  the  wood,  though  it  tend  something  to 
make  it  kindle  more  easily ;  so  these,  though  they 
may  something  dispose  a  man  towards  faith,  yet 
they  are  not  any  degree  of  faith.  The  least  degree 
of  true  faith  is  saving,  but  these  humblings  may  be 
in  those  who  shall  never  be  saved. 

— Clarkson,   1621-1686. 

(2026.)  There  may  be  the  fear  of  hell,  where 
there  is  not  a  spaik  of  true  faith  ;  as  we  see  in 
devils  and  reprobates.  Their  fear  of  the  punish- 
ment of  sin  may  take  place,  while  their  wilhngness 
to  sin  lives  ;  and  so  this  fear  no  more  changes  the 
inclination  of  their  wills,  than  the  whip  or  chain 
doth  the  nature  of  the  fox  or  wolf.  It  is  holy  fear 
that  works  a  godly  sorrow,  and  it  is  this  godly 
sorrow  that  brings  forth  those  seven  fruits  you 
read  of  (2  Cor.  vii.  Ii).  And  thus  godly  sorrow, 
whicti  is  the  happy  mother  of  so  many  good  chil- 
dren, is  caused,  like  Peter's  weeping,  by  the  loeks 
of  Christ.  The  reproofs,  the  frowns,  the  offences  of 
a  gracious  God  thaw  the  heart  into  melting  fears, 
and  would   do  so  though  there  was  no  hell :  as  a 


FAITH. 


(    350    ) 


FAITH. 


meek  child  needs  no  other  house  of  correction  than 
his  father's  looks.  — Erskine,  1685-1752, 

(2027.)  Sea-going  ships  do  not  trust  to  them- 
selves in  the  windings  of  a  river.  Where  they  are 
hemmed  in  between  rock  and  quicksand,  grazing 
now  the  one  and  now  the  other,  they  take  care  lo 
have  a  steam  tug,  both  to  bear  them  forward  and 
guide  them  ariglit.  They  hang  implicitly  upon  its 
power.  They  make  no  attempt  at  independent 
action.  But  I  have  also  observed,  that  as  soon  as 
they  get  clear  of  the  narrows — as  soon  as  they  have 
attained  a  good  offing  and  an  open  sea,  they  heave 
off,  and  hoist  their  own  sails.  They  never  want  a 
Steamer  until  they  come  to  narrow  water  again. 

Such  is  the  trust  in  God  which  the  unreconciled 
experience.  In  distress  they  are  fain  to  lean  on  the 
Almighty.  While  they  are  in  the  narrows,  death 
seeming  near  on  every  side,  conscious  that  they 
have  no  power  and  no  skill,  they  would  hang  on 
the  help  of  a  Deliverer.  "My  God,  we  know 
Thee"(Hos.  viii.  2),  is  then  their  cry.  Most  devout 
they  are,  and  most  earnest.  At  every  hour  of  their 
day  and  night  they  are  exercised  in  spirit  about 
pleasing  God,  and  gaining  this  help  in  their  need. 
The  line  of  their  dependence  seems  ever  tight  by 
their  constant  leaning.  But  when  they  begin  to 
creep  out  of  these  shoals  of  life — when  the  path 
opens  wide  and  clear  and  safe  again,  they  heave  off, 
and  throw  themselves  on  their  own  resources. 
They  become  a  god  unto  themselves,  whenever 
dangers  are  out  of  sight.  Forthwith  and  hencelorth 
they  live  without  God  in  the  world,  until  they  are 
driven  into  straits  again.  Then  they  remember 
God  and  pray,  as  a  distressed  ship  makes  signals 
for  help  when  she  is  entering  a  tortuous  channel. 
This  is  not  to  have  confidence  in  God.  This  is  to 
provoke  llim  to  anger.  — Arnot, 

(2.)  But  faith  is  tisually  preceded  by  fear. 

{2028.)  Faith  presupposes  sense  of  misery. 
When  the  Lord  brings  a  sinner  to  believe,  fie 
makes  him  thoroughly  apprehensive  of  his  miser- 
able condition  by  reason  of  sin  and  wrath  ;  he  not 
only  assents  to  it,  but  is  sensible  of  it. 

A  man  that  has  read  or  heard  much  of  the  sad 
effects  of  war,  he  may  assent,  believe  that  it  is  a 
great  miseiy  to  be  infected  with  war.  Ay,  but 
when  the  enemy  is  at  his  door,  when  they  are  driv- 
ing his  cattle,  and  plundering  his  goods,  and  firing 
his  houses,  he  not  only  assents  to  it,  but  he  sees,  he 
feels  the  miseries  of  it  ;  he  has  more  sensible,  more 
affecting  apprehensions  of  it  than  ever. 

A  sinner  that  continues  in  unbelief,  hearing  the 
threatenings  denounced  against  unbelievers,  may 
assent  to  this,  that  unbelievers  are  in  a  miserable 
condition  ;  but  when  the  Lord  is  working  laith,  he 
brings  this  home  to  himself:  he  sees  justice  ready 
to  seize  on  him,  he  feels  wrath  kindling  upon  him. 
He  now  not  only  believes  it,  but  has  a  quick  sense 
of  it.  He  often  heard  how  terrible  the  wrath  of 
God  is,  but  looking  on  it  at  a  distance,  it  did  no 
more  affect  him  than  a  painted  fire ;  ay,  but  now  he 
feels  the  heat  of  it,  it  begins  to  kindle  in  his  soul, 
and  scorch  his  conscience.  He  heard  of  dreadful 
curses  denounced  against  such  and  such  sins,  but  he 
looked  upon  them  as  at  a  distance,  as  disciiarged  at 
random  ;  ay,  but  now  he  sees  them  levelled  at  him- 
self, his  soul  in  the  butt,  the  mark  to  which  those 
arrows  are  directed,  and  the  poison  thereof  drinks 
up   his   spirits.     He  reads  and   hears    the   terrible 


things  denounced  against  sin,  as  though  he  were 
another  man,  and  is  affected  with  them  as  though 
they  were  not  the  same  things.  He  wonders  at  his 
former  stupidity.  This  thunder  is  not  afar  off, 
l>ut  it  startles  him,  as  though  he  were  even  in  the 
thunder-cloud. 

Till  it  be  thus  in  some  degree,  he  will  not  come 
to  Christ.  The  physician  is  neglected  while  the 
patient  thinks  himself  in  health.  The  whole,  i.e., 
those  that  think  themselves  whole,  see  no  need  of 
the  Great  Physician.  The  malefactor  will  never  sue 
for  a  pardon  to  purpose  till  he  be  (or  apprehend 
himself  in  danger  to  be)  condemned.  No  liying  to 
this  Stronghold,  till  there  be  some  fear  of  pursuers. 
Lot  would  never  have  fled  to  the  mountain,  but 
that  the  country  was  all  in  a  flame  (Gen.  xix.  28). 
— Clarkson,  1621-1686. 

(2029.)  The  helpless  bird  pursued  by  the  kite,  in 
danger  to  be  devoured,  runs  under  the  wing  of  the 
dam.  Thus  it  is  with  a  sinner  at  the  first  working 
of  faith,  he  apprehends  himself  pursued  by  wrath  and 
judgment ;  he  knows  if  they  seize  on  him  he  must 
perish  without  remedy.  Oh,  the  sad  condition  of  such 
a  soul  !  Oh  !  but  he  sees  Christ  spreading  His  wings 
ready  to  secure  perishing  sinners  ;  he  hears  Him 
inviting  in  tlie  gospel  to  come  under  His  shadow. 
Oh,  how  sweet  is  that  voice  to  him  (however,  while 
senseless  he  neglected)  I  He  hears,  obeys,  and 
runs  to  Christ  for  shelter,  and  so  he  is  safe  :  "  How 
excellent  is  Thy  loving-kindness,  O  God  !  therefore 
the  children  of  men  put  their  trust  under  the  shadow 
of  Thy  wings."  — Clarkson,  1621-1686. 

4.  Repentance. 

(2030. )  The  consideration  of  God's  truth  humbles 
us, — without  it  we  would  be  fearless  ;  the  considera- 
tion of  1  lis  mercy  supports  us, — without  it  we  would 
be  hopeless.  Truth  begets  fear  and  repentance ; 
mercy,  fear  and  hope ;  and  these  two,  faith  and 
repentance,  keep  the  soul  even  and  upright,  and 
steady,  as  the  ballast  and  sail  do  the  ship,  that  for 
all  the  rough  waves  and  weather  that  encounter  her 
in  the  troublesome  sea  of  this  world,  she  miscarries 
not,  but  arrives  safe  and  joyful  in  the  haven  where 
she  would  be.  Faith  without  repentance  is  not 
faith,  but  presumption,  like  a  ship  all  sail  and  no 
ballast,  that  tips  over  with  every  blast  ;  and  repent- 
ance without  laith  is  not  repentance,  but  despair,^ 
like  a  ship  all  ballast  and  no  sail,  which  sinks  vsith 
her  own  weight.  What  is  it  then  we  are  to  do  to 
turn  away  God's  wrath  from  us,  and  to  escape  the 
judgments  He  threatens  against  us?  even  this,  as,  in 
Hiscomminations  He  joins  mercy  and  truth  together, 
so  are  we  in  our  humiliation  to  join  faith  and  repent- 
ance together.  His  threatenings  are  true,  let  us 
not  presume  of  forbearance  ;  but  fear,  since  He  has 
threatened,  that  unless  we  repent  He  will  strike  us. 
Yet  His  threatenings  are  but  conditional,  let  us  not 
despair  of  forbearance,  but  hope,  although  lie  has 
threatened,  that  yet  if  we  repent  He  will  spare  us, 
— Sanderson,  1587-1662. 

(2031.)  As  a  prisoner  that  lies  in  hold  for  debt, 
if  a  man  should  promise  him  that  he  would  take 
ordei  to  pay  his  debts,  and  thereby  discharge  him 
of  his  imprisonment,  he  first  believes  that  he  is  both 
able  and  willing  so  to  do  it,  then  he  hopes  for  it, 
and  lastly,  he  is,  as  it  were,  dissolved  into  love, 
ravished  with  the  thoughts  of  such  an  unexpected 
relief,  and  therefore  seeketh  to  do  all  things  that 


FAITH. 


(     351 


FAITH. 


may  please  him — so  it  is  with  a  repenting  convert  : 
he  first  believes  that  God  will  do  what  He  hath 
promised,  that  is,  pardon  his  sins  and  take  away 
his  iniquities  :  then  he  resteth,  that  what  is  so  pro- 
mised shall  be  performed  ;  and  from  that,  and  for 
it,  he  leaves  sm,  forsaketh  his  old  course  of  life, 
•which  was  displeasing,  and,  for  the  time  to  come, 
maketh  it  his  work  to  do  that  which  is  pleasing 
and  acceptable  in  His  sight. 

—Stock,  1 568- 1 626. 

(2032.)  It  is  impossible  that  we  should  believe  the 
doctrine  of  salvation  by  grace  in  an  impenitent  state 
of  mind,  or  without  feeling  that  we  have  forfeited 
all  claim  to  the  Divine  favour.  We  cannot  see 
things  but  as  they  are  to  be  seen  ;  to  suppose  that 
we  first  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  free  grace,  and 
then,  as  the  effect  of  it,  perceive  the  evil  of  sin, 
and  our  just  exposedness  to  Divine  wrath,  is  like 
supposing  a  man  first  to  appreciate  the  value  of 
a  physician,  and  by  this  means  to  learn  that  he  is 
sick.  It  is  true  the  physician  may  visit  the  neigh- 
bourhood, or  the  apartments,  of  one  who  is  in 
imminent  danger  of  death,  while  he  thinks  himself 
mending  every  day  ;  and  this  circumstance  may  be 
held  up  by  his  friends  as  a  motive  to  him  to  con- 
sider of  his  condition,  and  to  put  himself  under 
his  care.  It  is  thus  that  the  coining  of  Christ, 
and  the  setting  up  of  His  spiritual  kingdom  in  the 
world,  were  alleged  as  motives  to  repentance,  both 
to  Jews  and  Gentiles.  "Repent,  for  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  at  hand."  "  Repent  ye  therefore." 
"The  times  past  of  this  ignorance  God  winked  at ; 
but  now  commandeth  all  men  everywhere  to  repent." 
But  as  it  would  not  follow  in  the  one  case  that  the 
sick  man  could  appreciate  the  value  of  the  physician 
till  he  felt  his  sickness,  neither  does  it  follow  in  the 
other  that  faith  toward  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  pre- 
cedes such  a  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin  as  involves  the 
first  workings  of  repentance  toward  God. 

— Andrew  Fuller,  1754-18 15. 

(2033.)  The  chief  ground  on  which  repentance 
toward  God  has  been  denied  to  precede  faith  in 
Christ  in  the  order  of  nature,  is,  that  no  man  can 
repent  of  sin  till  he  entertain  the  hope  of  forgive- 
ness. Nay,  it  has  been  said,  "  No  man  can  repent 
unless  he  knows  himself  to  be  of  God  ;  and  as  this 
cannot  be  known  till  he  hath  received  Christ,  faith 
must  precede  repentance."  .   .  . 

If  the  principle  that  supposes  this  argument  be 
true,  it  will  hold  good  in  reference  to  men  as  well 
as  to  God.  And  is  it  true  that  a  man  who  is  under 
just  condemnation  for  breaking  the  laws,  and  who 
has  no  hope  of  obtaining  a  pardon,  ought  not  to 
be  expected  to  repent  for  his  crime,  and,  before  he 
die,  to  pray  God  to  bless  his  king  and  country? 
On  this  principle,  all  confessions  of  this  kind  are 
of  necessity  mere  hypocrisy.  Even  those  of  the 
dying  thief  in  the  gospel,  so  far  as  they  respect  the 
justice  of  his  doom  from  his  countrymen,  must  have 
been  insincere  ;  for  he  had  no  hope  of  his  sentence 
being  remitted.  What  would  an  offended  father 
say,  if  the  offender  should  require,  as  the  condition 
of  his  repentance,  a  previous  declaration  of  forgive- 
ness, or  even  of  a  willingness  to  forgive  ?  A  will- 
ingness to  forgive  might  be  declared,  and  it  would 
heighten  the  criminality  of  the  offender  if  after  this 
he  continued  hardened  ;  but  for  him  to  require  it, 
and  to  avow  that  he  could  not  repent  of  his  sin 
upon  any  other  cordition,  would  be  the  height  of 


insolence.  Yet  all  this  is  pleaded  for  in  respect 
of  God.  "  If  I  be  a  father,  where  is  Mine  honour  ?  " 
Besides,  how  is  a  sinner  to  "  know  that  he  is  ot 
God,"  otherwise  than  as  being  conscious  of  repent- 
ance toward  God,  and  faith  toward  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  ?  Till  he  is  sorry  at  heart  for  having  dis- 
honoured God,  he  is  not  of  God,  and  therefore 
cannot  know  that  he  is  so. 

— Andrnv  Fuller,  1 754-1 8 15, 

(2034.)  A  discussion  arose  between  some  members 
of  a  Bible  class,  in  reference  to  the  first  Christian 
exercise  of  the  converted  soul.  One  contended  that 
it  was  penitence  or  sorrmv ;  another  that  it  was 
fear,  another  love,  another  hope,  another  faith,  for 
how    could    one    fear    or    repent    without    belief? 

Elder  G ,  overhearing  the  discussion,   relieved 

the  minds  of  the  disputants  with  this  remark  : — 
"  Can  you  tell  me  which  spoke  of  the  wheel  moves 
first  ?  You  may  be  looking  at  one  spoke,  and  think 
that  it  moves  first,  but  they  all  start  together. 
Thus,  when  the  Spirit  of  God  operates  upon  the 
human  heart,  all  the  graces  begin  to  affect  the  peni- 
tent soul,  though  the  individual  may  be  more  con- 
scious of  one  than  another." 

6.  Holiness. 

(2035.)  Wouldst  thou  preserve  thy  faith,  look  to 
thy  conscience.  A  good  conscience  is  the  bottom 
faith  sails  in  ;  if  the  conscience  be  wrecked,  how 
can  it  be  thought  that  faith  should  be  safe?  If  faith 
be  the  jewel,  a  good  conscience  is  the  cabinet,  in 
which  it  is  kept  :  And  if  the  cabinet  be  broken,  the 
jewel  must  needs  be  in  danger  of  losing. 

—  Giirnall,  1611-1679. 

6.  Faith  and  Love. 

(2036.)  Faith  without  love  is,  as  it  were,  a 
dream,  an  image  of  faith  ;  just  as  the  appearance  of 
a  face  in  a  glass  is  not  a  real  face. 

— Luther,  1483-1546. 

(2037.)  Flatter  not  thyself  in  thy  faith  to  God,  if 
thou  wantest  charity  for  thy  neighbour  ;  and  think 
not  thou  hast  charity  for  thy  neighbour,  if  thou 
wantest  faith  to  God  :  where  they  are  not  both 
together,  they  are  both  wanting ;  they  are  both 
dead  if  once  divided-  — Quarks,  1592-1644. 

(2038.)  Faith  is  the  source ;  charity,  that  is,  the 
whole  Christian  life,  is  the  stream  from  it.  It  is 
quite  childish  to  talk  of  faith  being  imperfect  with- 
out charity  ;  as  wisely  might  you  say  that  a  fire, 
however  bright  and  strong,  was  imperfect  without 
heat  ;  or  that  the  sun,  however  cloudless,  is  imper- 
fect without  beams.  The  true  answer  would  be,  it 
is  not  faith,  but  utter  reprobate  faithlessness. 

— Coleridge,  1 772-1834. 

(2039.)  Faith  is  that  nail  which  fastens  the  soul 
to  Christ  ;  and  love  is  that  grace  that  drives  the 
nail  to  the  head.  Faith  takes  hold  of  Him  and  love 
helps  to  keep  the  grip.  Christ  dwells  in  the  heart 
by  faith,  and  He  burns  in  the  heart  by  love,  like  a 
fire  melting  the  breast.  Faith  casts  the  knot,  ani 
love  draws  it  fast.  — Erskine,  1685-1752. 

7.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Love, 

(2040.)  Faith  believes  the  revelations  of  God  | 
hope  expects  His  promises ;  charity  loves  His  ex- 
cellences and  mercies. 

— Jeremy  Taylor^   161 2- 1667. 


FEAR. 


(    352    ) 


FEAR, 


(2041.)  Faith  is  the  chief  gospel  grace,  the  head 
of  the  graces  ;  as  gold  among  the  metals,  so  is  faith 
amoog  the  graces.  Alexandrinus  calls  the  other 
graces  the  daughters  of  faith.  Indeed,  in  heaven, 
love  will  be  the  chief  grace  ;  but,  while  we  are  here 
militant,  love  mu>t  give  place  to  faith  :  love  takes 
)iossession  of  glory,  but  faith  gives  a  title  to  it. 
Love  is  the  crowning  grace  in  heaven,  but  faith  is 
the  conquering  grace  upon  earth,  "  This  is  the 
victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith." 
—  IP'atson,  1696. 

IX.  IN  WHAT  SENSE  IT  IS  TO  CEASE. 

(2042.)  There  is  contained  in  this  rest  (Ileb.  iv. 
9),  a  cessation  from  motion  or  action  ;  not  of  all 
the  actions,  but  of  that  which  hath  the  nature  of  a 
means,  and  implies  the  absence  of  the  end.  When 
we  have  obtained  the  haven,  we  have  done  sailing. 
When  the  workman  hath  his  wages,  it  implied  he 
hath  done  his  work.  When  we  are  at  our  journey's 
end,  we  have  done  with  the  way.  All  motion  ends 
at  the  centre,  and  all  means  cease  when  we  have 
the  end.  Therefore,  prophesying  ceaseth,  tongues 
fail,  and  knowledge  shall  be  done  away ;  that  is,  so 
far  as  it  had  the  nature  of  a  means,  and  was  im- 
perfect. And  so  faith  may  be  said  to  cease  :  not 
all  faith,  for  how  shall  we  know  all  things  past, 
which  we  saw  not  but  by  believing  ?  How  shall 
we  know  the  last  judgment,  the  resurrection  of  the 
body  beforehand,  but  by  believing?  How  shall  we 
know  the  life  everlasting,  the  eternity  of  the  joys 
we  possess,  but  by  believing?  But  all  that  faith, 
which,  as  a  means  referred  to  the  chief  end,  shall 
cease,  — Baxter,   1615-1691. 


FEAR. 

I.    ITS    USES. 

1.  Tlie  fear  of  God  delivers  us  from  tlie  fear  of 
man. 

(2043).  Noah  is  commanded  by  God  to  make 
such  a  vessel  as  should  save  him  and  his  from  a 
flood  which  should  drown  all  the  world  beside  ;  he 
sets  upon  the  work  ;  the  people  laugh  at  him,  and 
think  the  poor  old  man  doted,  and  had  dreamed, 
not,  as  we  say,  of  a  dry  summer,  but  a  wet  winter, 
and  that  he  was  no  wiser  than  the  prior  of  St. 
Bartholomew's,  who,  upon  the  vain  prediction  of 
an  addle-headed  astrologer,  went  and  built  him  a 
house  at  Harrow-on-the-Hill  to  secure  himself  from 
a  supposed  flood  that  that  astrologer  had  foretold. 
Many  a  broad  jest,  many  a  bitter  scoff  was,  no 
doubt,  broken  upon  Noah  ;  yet,  for  all  that,  he 
went  not  only  about,  but  through  the  work  that 
God  had  enjoined  :  so  did  Abraham,  Lot,  David, 
And  thus,  he  that  truly  feareth  God  careth  not  for 
the  afi'ronts  of  men.  He  is  a  fool,  we  say,  that 
will  be  laughed  out  of  his  coat ;  but  he  is  a  fool 
indeed  that  will  be  laughed  out  of  his  skin — nay, 
out  of  his  soul,  out  of  his  eternal  salvation — because 
he  is  loth  to  be  laughed  at  by  lewd  and  wicked 
men.  No,  no  !  the  true  fear  of  God  will  make  a 
man  set  light  by  such  paper-shot  ;  it  will  carry 
him  through  the  pikes,  not  of  evil  tongues  only,  but 
of  the  most  eager  opposition  that  either  Satan  him- 
self or  any  kmb  of  his  shall  at  any  time  be  able  to 
raise  against  him.  — Pinner. 

(2044.)  Religious  fear,  when  produced  by  just 
apprehensions  of  a  Di»  ine  power,  naturally  overlooks 


all  human  greatness  that  stands  in  competition  with 
it,  and  extinguishes  every  other  terror. 

— Addison,  1672-1719. 

2.  It  restrains  us  from  sin. 

(2045. )  Fear  is  the  great  bridle  of  intemperance, 
the  modesty  of  the  spirit,  and  the  restraint  of  gaieties 
and  dissolution  ;  it  is  the  girdle  to  the  soul,  and 
the  handmaid  to  repentance  ;  the  arrest  to  sin,  and 
the  cure  or  antidote  to  the  spirit  of  reprobation  ;  it 
preserves  our  apprehensions  of  the  Divine  Majesty, 
and  hinders  our  single  actions  from  combining  to 
sinful  habits  ;  it  is  the  mother  of  consideration,  and 
the  nurse  of  sober  counsels ;  and  it  puts  the  soul  to 
fermentation  and  activity,  making  it  pass  from  trem- 
bling to  caution,  from  caution  to  carefulness,  and 
carefulness  to  watchfulness,  from  thence  to  prudence, 
and  by  the  gates  and  progresses  of  repentance,  it 
leads  the  soul  on  to  love,  and  tc  felicity,  and  to 
joys  in  God,  that  shall  never  cease  again.  Fear  is 
the  guard  of  a  man  in  the  days  of  prosperity,  and  it 
stands  on  the  watch-towers  and  spies  the  approach-- 
ing  danger,  and  gives  warning  to  them  that  laugh 
loud  and  feast  in  the  chambers  of  rejoicing,  where 
a  man  cannot  consider  by  reason  of  the  noises  of 
wine  and  jest  and  music  :  and  if  prudence  takes 
it  by  the  hand,  and  leads  it  on  to  duty,  it  is  a  state 
of  grace,  and  a  universal  interest  to  infant  religion, 
and  the  only  security  of  less  perfect  persons ;  and, 
in  all  senses,  is  that  homage  we  owe  to  God, 
who  sends  often  to  demanil  it,  even  then,  when 
lie  speaks  in  thunder,  or  smites  by  a  plague,  01 
awakens  us  by  threatenings,  or  discomposes  our 
easiness  by  sad  thoughts,  and  tender  eyes,  and  fear- 
ful hearts,  and  tremblmg  considerations. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

3.  It  leads  to  self-examination. 

(2046.)  Holy  fear  is  a  searching  the  camp  that 
there  be  no  enemy  within  our  bosom  to  betray  us, 
and  seeing  that  all  be  fast  and  sure.  For  I  see 
many  leaky  vessels  fair  before  the  wind,  and  pro- 
fessors who  take  their  conversion  upon  trust,  and 
they  go  on  securely,  and  see  not  the  under  water 
till  a  storm  sink  them.  — SalUr,  1840. 

4.  It  keeps  us  humble. 

(2047.)  As  our  fear  excludeth  not  (hat  boldness 
which  becometh  saints,  so  if  our  familiarity  with 
God  do  not  savour  of  fear,  it  draweth  too  near  that 
irreverent  confidence  wherewith  true  humility  can 
never  stand.  — Hooker,  15  33- 1600. 

(2048.)  The  suspicions  and  fears  which  arise  in 
an  awakened  mind  proceed,  in  a  good  measure, 
from  remaining  unbelief;  but  not  wholly  so,  for 
there  is  a  jealousy  and  diffidence  of  ourselves,  a 
wariness,  owing  to  a  sense  of  the  deceitfulness  of 
our  hearts,  which  is  a  grace  and  a  gift  of  the  Lord. 
Some  people  who  have  much  zeal,  but  are  destitute 
of  this  jealous  fear,  may  be  compared  to  a  ship  that 
spreads  a  great  deal  of  sail,  but  is  not  properly  bal- 
lasted, and  is  therefore  in  danger  of  being  overset 
whenever  a  storm  comes.    — Newton,  1725-1807. 

(2049.)  In  the  hands  of  a  skilful  hushjindman 
even  weeds  are  turned  to  good  account.  When 
rooted  up  and  burnt,  they  are  good  mi'itjre,  and 
conduce  to  fertilise  the  land  they  annc^  ed  before. 
So  the  doubts  and  fears  and  the  infiip.ities  of  tlie 
elect  are  overruled  by  Almighty  grace  to  their  jue- 


FEAR, 


(    353    ) 


FEAR. 


Bent  and  eternal  good  ;  as  conducing  to  keep  us 
humble  at  God's  footstool ;  to  endear  the  merits  of 
Jesus,  and  to  make  us  feel  our  weakness  and  de- 
pendence, and  to  render  us  watchful  unto  prayer. 

— Salter,  1840. 
II.    ITS  ABUSES. 

1.  Morbid  fear  enfeebles  the  soul. 

(2050. )  What  a  thrifty,  robust  plant  is  the  potato 
when  out  in  the  field  it  grows  beneath  the  sun.  Its 
leaf  so  coarse  and  green,  its  stem  so  stout  and  suc- 
culent, it  is  a  pleasure  to  look  upon  a  thing  which 
seems  so  to  take  hold  of  all  the  elements  of  life. 
But  when  it  has  sprouted  in  the  cellar,  which  has 
but  one  north  window,  half  closed,  it  is  a  poor, 
cadaverous,  etiolated,  melancho'7  vine,  growing  up 
to  that  little  flicker  of  light ;  sickly,  blanched,  and 
brittle. 

Like  the  cellar-growii>g  vine  is  the  Christian  who 
lives  in  the  darkness  a.'id  bondage  of  fear.  But  let 
him  go  forth,  with  the  liberty  of  God,  into  the  light 
of  love,  and  b.s  will  be  like  the  plant  in  the  field, 
healthy,  robust,  and  joyful.  — Beecher. 

(2051.)  Fear  is  far  more  painful  to  cowardice 
than  death  to  true  courage. 

—Sir  P.  Sidney,  1554-1586. 

(2052.)  The  thing  in  the  world  I  am  most  afraid 
of  is  fear,  and  with  good  reason  ;  that  passion  alone 
in  the  trouble  of  it  exceeding  all  other  accidents. 
—Motitaipte,  1 533-1 592. 

2.  It  paralyses  effort. 

(2053. )  A  low  and  normal  action  of  fear  leads  to 
forecast ;  its  morbid  action  is  a  positive  hindrance 
to  effort.  Water  is  necessary  fur  the  floating  of 
timber  ;  but  if  a  log  be  saturated  with  water,  it  sinks 
in  the  very  element  which  should  buoy  it  up.  Many 
men  are  water- logged  with  anxiety,  and  instead  of 
quickening  them,  it  only  paralyses  exertion. 

—Beecher. 

(2054.)  Is  there  no  argument  of  fear  and  doubt 
in  the  New  Testament?  Yes.  "  Let  us,"  says  the 
apostle,  "labour  to  enter  into  that  rest,  lest  any 
man  fall  after  the  example  of  unbelief."  There  is 
argument  of  fear,  but  is  it  to  be  a  paralysing,  chronic 
fear  .-'  Is  it  to  be  anything  more  than  a  motive  for 
us  to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure?  There  is 
a  kind  of  fear  which  spreads  over  the  soul  like  a 
mist  and  fog.  It  neither  rains  nor  is  dispelled. 
Day  and  night  it  wraps  the  soul  in  its  chilling  and 
visionless  embrace.  That  is  a  very  disastrous  form 
of  fear.  It  is  low,  annoying,  deadening.  There  is 
another  kind  which  is  like  a  sharp  rain-storm  in 
summer.  A  great  deal  of  thunder  and  lightning 
comes  with  it,  but  it  soon  passes  away,  and  every- 
thing is  better  for  it.  This  kind  of  fear,  instead  of 
being  deadening  and  paralysing,  is  quickening  and 
vitalising,  and  it  brings  a  man  to  see  how  important 
it  is  that  he  should  examine  his  ground  and  know 
that  he  stands.  It  is  a  kind  of  fear  which,  so  far 
from  being  injurious,  is  to  the  last  degree  salutary. 

While,  then,  there  is  in  the  gospel  a  recognition 
of  the  function  01  fear,  it  is  also  taught  that  7viih  it, 
■nd  in  part  by  it,  we  are  to  come  to  a  state  in  which 
we  have  an  abiding  confidence  that  our  souls  shall 
be  saved  through  the  Lord  J  esus  Christ. 

— Beecher, 

8.  Leads  to  superstition. 

(2055.)  This  ex'-ellent  grace  is  soon  abused  in  the 
&est  and  most  tender  spirits ;  in  those  who  aie  sot- 


tened  by  nature  and  by  religion,  by  infelicities  ot 
cares,  by  sudden  accidents  or  a  sad  soul  ;  and  the 
devil  observing  that  fear,  like  spare  diet,  starves  the 
fever  of  lust,  and  quenches  the  flames  of  hell,  en- 
deavours to  heighten  this  abstinence  so  much  as  to 
starve  the  man,  and  break  the  spirit  into  timorous- 
ness  and  scruple,  sadness  and  unreasonable  trem- 
blings, credulity  and  trifling  observations,  suspicion 
and  false  accusations  of  God  :  and  then  vice  being 
turned  out  at  the  gate  returns  in  at  the  postern,  and 
does  the  work  of  hell  and  death  by  running  too 
inconsiderately  in  the  paths  which  seem  to  lead  to 
heaven.  But  so  have  I  seen  a  harmless  dove  made 
dark  with  an  artificial  night,  and  her  eyes  sealed  and 
locked  up  with  a  little  quill,  soaring  upward  and 
flying  with  amazement  and  fear,  and  an  undiscerning 
wing  ;  she  made  toward  heaven,  but  knew  not  that 
she  was  made  a  train  and  an  iiistrument  to  teach 
her  enemy  to  prevail  on  her  and  all  her  defenceless 
kindred  :  so  is  a  superstitious  man ;  jealous  and 
blind,  forward  and  mistaken,  he  runs  towards 
heaven,  as  he  thinks,  but  he  chooses  foolish  paths ; 
and  out  of  fear  takes  anything  that  he  is  told  ;  or 
fancies  and  guesses  concerning  God  by  measures 
taken  from  his  own  diseases  and  imperfections. 
But  fear,  when  it  is  inordinate,  is  never  a  good 
counsellor,  nor  makes  a  good  friend  ;  and  he  that 
fears  God  as  his  enemy,  is  the  most  completely 
miserable  person  in  the  world. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(2056.)  In  morals,  what  begins  in  fear  usually 
ends  in  wickedness  ;  in  religion,  what  begins  in  fear 
usually  ends  in  fanaticism.  Fear,  either  as  a  prin- 
ciple or  a  motive,  is  the  beginning  of  ail  evil. 

— Airs.  Jameson. 

4.  Ensures  failure. 

(2057.)  Hundreds  of  men  fail  by  the  nervous 
scrupulosity  by  which  they  mean  to  prevent  failure. 
For  we  do  best  the  things  which  we  do  without 
special  thinking.  Were  a  man  to  attempt  to  walk 
upon  a  beam  six  inches  wide,  lifted  eighty  feet 
above  the  ground,  he  would  begin  to  think,  "  What 
would  become  of  me,  and  of  my  family,  if  I  should 
fall?"  He  would  endeavour  to  put  forth  skill  in 
walking;  and  the  moment  he  did  that  his  steps 
would  be  loose,  tremulous,  and  uncertain.  But 
lay  that  beam  upon  the  ground,  and  he  would  walk 
it  from  end  to  end  as  if  it  had  the  width  of  the 
whole  floor  in  its  six-inch  face.  In  the  one  case  he 
would  fall  because  he  took  so  much  care,  and  in  the 
other  case  he  would  succeed  because  he  took  so 
little  care.  —Beuher. 

(2058.)  You  have  probably  noticed  that  when 
men  walk  across  a  stream  on  stilts,  if  they  look  at 
their  feet  to  see  where  they  step,  their  head  begins 
to  swim,  and  very  soon  they  have  to  swim  or 
drown  ;  whereas,  if  they  fix  their  eyes  upon  a  single 
object  on  the  opposite  bank,  and  never  look  at  their 
feet  at  all,  they  reach  the  other  side  in  safety.  Now 
if  a  man  stands  looking  at  this  world,  he  gets  dizzy 
and  intoxicated,  and  falls  ;  whereas,  if  he  fixes  his 
eye  upon  the  bank  of  the  eternal  world,  he  walks 
straighter  in  this  world,  and  is  more  sure  of  reaching 
the  other  side  in  safety.  — Beecher. 

III.  IS  MERELY  REPRESSIVE  IN  ITS 
INFLUENCE. 

(2059. )  The  fear  of  visible  vengeance,  that  somo* 


FEAR. 


(    354    ) 


FEELING. 


times  strikes  the  wicked,  or  tlie  apprehension  of 
judgment  to  come,  may  control  the  licentious 
appetites  from  breaking  forth  into  actual  com- 
mission of  sins.  But  as  when  the  lions  spared 
Daniel,  it  was  not  from  the  change  of  their  wild 
devouring  nature,  for  they  destroyed  his  accusers 
immediately,  but  from  the  suspending  their  hurtful 
power  ;  so  when  a  strong  fear  lays  a  restraint  upon 
the  active  powers,  yet  inward  lust  is  the  same,  and 
would  licentiously  commit  sin,  were  the  restraint 
taken  away.  — Salter,  1840. 

(2060.)  Just  like  a  frost,  fear  will  hinder  the 
breakinu;  forth  of  carnal  lusts  into  notorious  acts,  as 
the  cold  of  winter  binds  the  earth  that  noxious 
weeds  cannot  spring  up  ;  but  love,  like  the  summer 
beat,  is  productive  of  all  good  fruits. 

— Salter,  1840. 

rv.  DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  LEGAL  AND 
EVANGELICAL  FEAR. 

(2061.)  But  you  will  say,  "  May  not  a  man  that 
is  of  a  gospel  spirit,  and  that  is  come  to  Jesus  the 
Mediator  of  the  new  covenant,  be  full  of  fears  about 
his  condition  ?  " 

I  answer,  He  may  ;  but  his  fears  arise  from  the 
weakness  of  his  adherence  and  faith.  The  other's 
fears  rather  arise  from  the  weakness  of  the  ground 
he  stands  upon.  As  for  example  :  two  men  are 
afraid  of  drowning,  one  stands  upon  a  rock,  and  he 
is  afraid  of  being  drowned  ;  the  other  stands  upon 
a  quicksand,  and  he  is  afraid  of  being  drowned  ; 
both  are  afraid.  He  that  stands  on  a  rock  is  afraid 
of  drowning,  why?  because  he  is  afraid  he  shall  be 
washed  off;  his  fear  arises  from  the  weakness  of  his 
adherence.  But  the  other's  fear  arises  from  the 
unsoundness  of  the  ground  he  stands  upon,  for  it 
is  upon  a  quicksand.  So  here  are  two  fears  :  a 
gracious  gospel-heart  fear,  and  a  legalist  fear.  One 
fears  from  the  weakness  of  his  adherence  :  I  am 
upon  the  Rock,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  washed 
off.  But  the  other's  fear  arises  from  the  weakness 
of  the  ground  he  stands  upon  ;  he  stands  upon  the 
quicksand,  upon  his  own  duties,  and  his  own 
works.  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

V.  SLAVISH  AND  FILIAL  FEAR. 
(2062.)  There  is  a  virtuous  fear,  which  is  the 
effect  of  faith  ;  and  there  is  a  vicious  fear,  which  is 
the  product  of  doubt.  The  former  leads  to  hope, 
as  relying  on  God  in  whom  we  believe  ;  the  latter 
inclines  to  despair,  as  not  relying  on  God  in  wliom 
we  do  not  believe.  Persons  of  the  one  character 
fear  to  lose  God  ;  persons  of  the  other  character 
fear  to  find  Him.  — Pascal,  1622-1662. 

(2063. )  There  are  two  kinds  of  fear  ;  one  full  of 
suspicious  watchfulness,  of  anxious  apprehension, 
of  trepidation,  terror  and  dismay  ;  the  other  such 
as  can  dwell  in  the  same  heart  with  confidence  and 
love,  and  is  but  another  form  of  reverence.  Filial 
fear  of  God  is  a  duty  ;  slavish  and  servile  dread  of 
Him  is  a  sin.  Filial  fear  shrinks  from  sin,  servile 
fear  only  from  the  smart  of  punishment.  Filial  fear 
keeps  men  trom  departing  from  the  living  God, 
servile  fear  drives  tiiem  from  Him,  even  as  it  im- 
pelled our  first  parents  to  hide  themselves  amongst 
the  trees  when  they  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God 
walking  iti  the  garden.  By  filial  fear  men  are  made 
like  the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  upon  whom  rested  "the 
epirit  of  wisdom  and  understanding,  the  spirit  of 


counsel  and  might,  the  spirit  of  knowledge  and  of 
the  fear  of  the  Lord  ; "  by  servile  fear  they  may  be 
scared  from  iniquity,  as  the  wolf  from  the  sheepfold 
by  the  shepherd's  gun,  but  it  does  no  more  to  make 
them  holy  than  the  fright  does  to  destroy  the  wolfs 
ferocity.  Filial  fear  animates  us  to  avoid  whatever 
would  be  offensive  to  our  Heavenly  Father,  and, 
if  the  expression  may  be  allowed,  to  consult  His 
feelings  and  desires  ;  but  servile  fear,  as  it  springs 
from  selfishness,  causes  us  only  to  care  for  ourselves, 
and  at  best  makes  us  not  better,  but  only  a  little 
more  prudent  than  the  devil. 

— R.  A.  Berlram, 


FEELING. 
1.  Is  necessarily  variable. 
(2064.)  No  one's  spirit   is   always  in   an   equal 

degree  of  health  and  even  complexion  ;  the  wheels 
do  not  always  move  with  an  equal  swiftness  ;  reflec- 
tion on  a  state  of  sin  and  the  blackness  of  transgres- 
sions sometimes  make  us  shrink  and  tremble  ;  the 
wonderful  greatness  of  God's  mercy,  like  the  light 
of  the  sun,  sometimes  dazzles  and  blinds  our  eye. 
Yet  if  we  believe  in  Him  with  all  these  palsies,  it 
will  go  well  with  us.         — Ckarnock,  1628-16S0. 

(2065.)  Christians  are  creatures  of  changeful 
frames  ;  sometimes  high,  and  at  others  low,  accord- 
ing to  circumstances.  When  the  health  is  firm, 
and  all  things  agreeable  to  the  feelings,  then  the 
frames  are  in  the  ascendant  :  when  troubles  come, 
then,  like  the  mercury  in  the  thermometer,  the 
spirits  sink — sometimes  below  zero. 

Let  us  not  calculate  on  steady  frames  in  this 
ever-changing  world  :  but  let  us  take  the  comfort, 
that  our  salvation  is  not  effected  by  our  frames,  nor 
depentls  upon  our  creature  stability,  but  on  the 
atonement  of  Christ  and  the  faithfulness  of  Him 
who  is  "  without  variableness,  or  shadow  of  turn- 
ing. "  — Bawden. 

(2066.)  "Mother," — said  a  little  limpet  sticking 
to  the  rock;  "mother, — what  has  become  of  the 
sea?     I  am  so  dry  here  !  " 

"  Nothing  unusual  has  taken  place,  dear,"  said 
the  old  limpet  affectionately. 

"  Oh,  it  was  so  nice  to  be  in  the  deep  water,"  said 
the  little  one.      "  Is  the  sea  all  gone  ?" 

"It  will  come  again  by  and  by,  love,"  replied  the 
kind  old  limpet,  who  had  had  long  experience  of 
ebb  and  flow, 

"  But  I  am  so  thirsty  and  almost  faint,  the  sea 
has  been  away  so  long." 

"Only  wait  awhile  in  hope,  little  one;  hold  fast 
to  the  rock,  and  the  tide  will  soon  come  back  to 
us." 

And  it  did  come,  soon  came ;  rolling  up  the 
beach,  and  humming  over  the  sands,  making  little 
pools,  and  forming  tiny  rivers  in  the  hollows  ;  and 
then,  it  rolled  up  against  the  rocks,  and  at  last,  it 
came  to  the  limpet  ;  bathed  it  with  its  reviving 
waters  ;  and  so  amply  sujiplied  its  wants  that  it 
went  to  sleep  in  peace,  forgetting  its  troubles. 

Religious  feeling  has  its  ebbings  and  flowings. 
But  when  former  sensible  comforts  are  departed^ 
still  to  hold  fast  unto  the  immovable,  unchangeable 
Rock,  Christ  Jesus,  if  the  soul's  support  and  s.ifety 

— Bovidi*. 


FEELING. 


(    355    ) 


FEELING. 


(2067.)  "What  a  lamentable  change  has  taken 
place  in  my  condition  ! "  said  the  frozen  brook. 
•'  Only  a  short  while  ago  1  ran  along  a  lively 
stream,  glistening  in  the  sunshine,  dancing  in  the 
shade,  and  doing  my  woi  k  with  joyous  pleasure; 
but  now,  alas  !  I  am  cold  and  motionless  ! — what  a 
melancholy  change  has  come  over  me  ;  and  oh  ! 
what  if  I  siioidd  never  recover  from  this  torpor; 
never  flow  again  I  " 

A  sturdy  oak,  which  had  outlived  a  hundred 
winters,  and  now  also  stood  bare  and  comparatively 
leafless,  overhearing,  tried  to  comfort  it. 

"Don't  despair,"  said  tlie  oak,  whose  branches 
reached  forward  towards  the  sorrowing  brooklet, 
**  Don't  despair  ;  these  changes  are  common  to  sea- 
sons and  affect  you  now  so  powerfully  because  you  are 
so  shallow.  As  long  as  streams  have  been  exposed 
to  climates  of  this  nature,  tliey  have  endured  what 
you  now  suffer.  J3ut,  the  glorious  sun  retains  his 
power  in  the  heavens  ;  and  depend  on  it,  that  by 
and  by  we  shall  both  again  (eel  his  quickening 
influences — myself  to  put  on  a  new  dress  of  ft)liage, 
and  you  to  flow  with  the  freedom  and  freshness  of 
the  genial  spring." 

The  old  oak  was  not  mistaken.  In  due  time  the 
sun  poured  forth  bright  beams  from  the  sky.  The 
atmosphere  underwent  a  happy  alteration.  The  air 
became  soft  and  balmy.  The  little  rivulet,  too, 
had  burst  its  icy  bonds,  and  again  coursed  through 
the  meadows,  glittering  in  the  sunlight,  and  leajied 
its  way  over  the  pebbles,  "rejoicing  as  a  strong 
man  to  run  a  race,"  till,  in  the  end,  it  reached  and 
united  with  the  mighty  ocean,  and  was  no  longer 
subject  unto  the  ills  which  had  so  powerfully 
affected  it  while  but  a  feeble  rivulet. 

The  Christian  has  his  wintry  season,  when,  cold 
and  lifeless,  as  it  were,  and  lamenting  the  absence  of 
former  spiritual  enjoyments,  he  prays,  "  O  Lord, 
revive  Tliy  work."  "Quicken  me  in  Thy  way, 
according  to  Thy  Word."  "Lift  Thou  up  on  me  the 
light  of  Thy  countenance."  "I  will  run  the  way 
of  Thy  conmiandments,  when  Thou  shall  enlarge 
my  heart." 

How  precious  to  know  the  Lord  is  in  His  place 
above — "Jesus  Christ  the  same  yesterday,  and  to- 
day, and  for  ever."  "  He  giveth  power  to  the 
faint  ;  and  to  them  that  have  no  might  He  in- 
creaseth  strength."  And  then  at  last,  when  the 
days  of  the  believer's  earthly  warfare  are  ended,  he 
shall  endure  no  more  changes  ;  heaven  will  be  his 
home,  God  his  rest,  "and  sorrow  and  sighing  shall 
flee  away."  — Bowdt7t. 

2.  The  coimectlon  between  faith  and  feeling. 

(2068.)  There  is  as  much  connection  between 
faith  and  hallowed  feeling  as  there  is  between  the 
root  and  the  flower.  Faith  is  permanent,  just  as 
the  root  is  ever  in  the  ground  ;  feeling  is  casual, 
and  has  its  seasons.  Just  as  the  bulb  does  not 
always  shoot  up  the  green  stem,  far  less  is  it 
always  crowned  with  the  many,  many  coloured 
flowers.  Faith  is  the  tree,  the  essential  tree  ;  our 
fcdings  are  like  the  appearance  of  that  tree  during 
the  different  seasons  of  the  year.  Sometimes  our 
soul  is  full  of  bloon)  and  blossom,  and  the  bees  hum 
pleasantly,  and  gather  honey  within  our  hearts.  It 
is  then  that  our  feelings  bear  witness  to  the  life  of 
our  faith,  just  as  the  buds  of  spring  bear  witness  to 
the  lile  of  the  tree.  Anon,  our  feelings  gather  still 
greater  vigour,  and  we  come  to  the  summer  of 
our  delights ;  again,  perhaps,  we  begin  to  wither 


into  the  sear  and  yellow  leaf  of  autumn  ;  nay, 
sometimes  the  winter  of  our  despondency  and 
despair  will  strip  away  every  leaf  from  the  tree,  and 
our  poor  faith  stands  like  a  blasted  stem  without  a 
sign  of  verdure.  And  yet,  my  brethren,  so  long  as 
the  tree  of  faith  is  there  we  are  saved.  Whether 
faith  blossom  or  not,  whether  it  bring  forth  joyous 
fruit  in  our  experience  or  not,  so  long  as  it  be  there 
in  all  its  permanence  we  are  saved.  Experience,  if 
I  may  so  speak,  is  like  a  sundial.  When  I  wish 
to  know  the  time  of  the  day  with  my  spirit  I  look 
upon  it.  But  then  there  must  be  the  sun  shining, 
or  else  I  cannot  tell  by  my  sundial  what  and  where 
I  am.  If  a  cloud  passes  before  the  face  of  the  sun, 
my  dial  is  of  little  service  to  me  ;  but  then  my  faith 
comes  out  in  all  its  excellency,  for  my  faith  pierces 
the  cloud,  and  reads  the  state  of  my  soul — not  by 
the  sunshade  on  the  dial,  but  by  the  position  of  the 
sun  in  the  heavens  themselves.  Faith  is  a  greater 
and  grander  thing  than  all  experience,  less  hckle, 
more  stable.  It  is  the  root  of  grace,  and  these  are 
but  the  flowers,  the  germs,  the  buds.  Yet  let  us 
not  speak  against  experiences  ;  let  us  value  them, 
for  it  is  a  grand  thing  to  sit  in  the  sunshine 
of  Gods  presence  ;  it  is  a  noble  thing  to  eat  the 
grapes  of  Fshcol  even  while  we  are  in  the  wilder- 
ness. — Spur^eoH. 

3.  Undue  Importance  Is  not  to  be  attached  to  It. 

(2069.)  As  we  feel  the  calamities  of  war  more 
than  the  pleasures  of  peace,  and  diseases  more  than 
the  quietness  of  health,  and  the  hardness  of  poverty 
more  than  tlie  commodities  of  abundance  ;  even  so 
we  ought  not  to  marvel  if  we  feel  the  stingings  and 
pricks  of  sin  a  great  deal  more  than  the  consolations 
of  the  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ,  seeing  tliat  sin 
dwelleth  in  us,  and  not  righteousness,  which  is  the 
cause  that  the  one  is  more  sensible  than  the  other. 
Notwithstanding,  we  must  not  think  that  sin  can  be 
more  able  to  condemn  and  destroy  us  than  the 
righteousness  t)f  Jesus  Christ  and  the  grace  of  God 
is  to  justify  and  save  us.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(2070.)  As  we  have  sometimes  in  the  end  of  our 
finger  some  pain,  which  we  feel  a  great  deal  more 
than  the  health  that  is  all  over  the  rest  of  the  body, 
yea,  though  it  be  much  greater  than  the  pain  of  our 
finger  :  even  so  we  must  not  esteem  th-e  greatness 
or  the  strength,  whether  it  be  of  riglueuuiness  or 
sin,  acconling  to  that  feeling  we  have,  l>ecause 
the  one — that  is,  sin — is  more  sensible  than  the 
other ;  and  specially,  forasmuch  as  we  embrace 
righteousness  only  by  faith,  which  is  of  those  things 
that  are  not  outward  and  sensible. 

—  Cawdray,  1609. 

(2071.)  The  heir  of  a  great  estate,  while  a  child, 
thinks  more  of  a  few  shillings  in  his  ]iocket  than  of 
his  inheritance  :  so  a  Christian  is  often   more  elated 
by  some  frame  of  heart  than  by  his  title  to  glory. 
— Newton,  1725-1807. 

4.  Not  the  measure  of  God's  love  for  ub. 

(2072.)  Measure  not  God's  love  and  favour  by 
your  own  feeling.  The  sun  shines  as  cle.nrly  in  the 
darkest  day  as  it  does  in  the  brightest.  The  difler- 
ence  is  not  in  the  sun,  but  in  some  clouds  which 
hinder  the  manifestation  of  the  light  thereof.  So  God 
loves  as  well  when  He  shines  not  in  the  lirightness 
of  His  countenance  upon  us  as  when  He  does. 
Job  wa»  as  much  beloved  of  God  in  the  mvdst  o4 


FEELING. 


(    356    )        FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES. 


his  m'seiies,  as  he  was  afterwards  when  he  came  to 
eujoy  ihe  abundance  of  His  mercies. 

— Sibbes,  1 577-1635. 

6.  It  Is  neither  possible  nor  desirable  that  it 
should  always  be  intense. 

^2073.)  Our  most  exalted  feelings  are  not  meant 
to  be  the  common  food  of  daily  life.  Contentment 
is  more  satisfying  than  exhilaration  ;  and  content- 
ment means  simply  the  sum  of  small  and  quiet 
pleasures.  We  ought  not  to  seek  too  high  joys. 
We  may  be  bright  without  transfiguration.  The  even 
flow  of  constant  cheerfulness  strengthens  ;  while  great 
excitements,  driving  us  with  fierce  speed,  both  rack 
the  ship  and  end  often  in  explosions.  If  we  were 
just  ready  to  break  out  of  the  body  with  delight,  I 
know  not  but  we  should  disdain  many  things  impor- 
tant to  be  done.  Low  measures  of  feeling  are 
better  than  ecstasies,  for  ordinary  life.  God  sends 
His  rain  in  gentle  drops,  else  flowers  would  be 
beaten  to  pieces.  — Beicher. 

(2074.)  One  of  the  things  which  men  learn  by  a 
Christian  experience  is  how  to  work  from  a  lower 
intensity  of  motive-power.  When  young  persons 
begin  their  course  as  Christians  they  are  said  to 
have  exaggerated  ideas.  It  is  with  a  religious  life 
as  it  is  with  colours.  We  laugh  at  negroes, 
Indians,  and  uncultivated  people  because  they  love 
flashy  colours.  It  is  true  that  their  fondness  in  that 
direction  is  in  part  owing  to  their  balance  of 
organisation  ;  but  it  is  in  a  great  measure  owing  to 
the  fact  that  it  requires  intense  excitement  to  make 
an  impression  on  that  faculty  in  them  which 
appreciates  colour.  It  is  only  by  the  most  glaring 
yellows  and  reds  that  their  sense  of  colour  can  be 
waked  up.  But  as  persons  become  cultivated,  they 
take  in  lower  tones,  until  by  and  by  they  have  what 
is  called  an  exceeditigly  refined  taste.  And  what  is 
the  meaning  of  that  ?  Simply  that  it  does  not  take 
>ne-lenth  part  as  much  colour  to  excite  t.he  feeling 
>f  colour  in  them  as  at  first.  They  see  beauty  in 
lower  tones,  because  their  susceptibility  to  colour  is 
increased. 

Now,  Christian  duty,  in  the  beginning,  requires 
intense  specific  moral  feeling ;  but  as  the  work  goes 
on,  and  habit  comes  in,  it  does  not  require  one-tenth 
part  of  the  feeling  to  put  a  person  on  a  certain 
course  of  conduct  that  it  did  in  the  beginning.  His 
moral  susceptibilities  are  so  raised  that  less  fire  is 
necessary  to  make  him  boil. 

A  Christian  is  like  a  man  who  has  been  out  in 
the  cold  all  night,  and  is  brought  in  chilled  through. 
When  he  gets  thawed  out  a  little,  he  complains  of 
the  cold,  and  says,  "  I  cannot  keep  warm,"  although 
the  thermometer  is  up  to  eighty  degrees,  such  is  his 
reduced  state.  After  a  while  the  heat  begins  to 
penetrate  his  system,  and  he  is  stronger  ;  and 
although  the  thermometer  has  gone  down  to  seventy 
degrees,  he  says,  "  Why,  I  am  sweating  !  "  At  last, 
when  he  is  warmed  through,  and  his  accustomed 
vigour  has  returned,  he  can  let  the  thermometer  go 
down  to  sixty  degrees,  and  not  be  as  cold  as  when 
it  was  at  eighty  degrees.  When  the  body  is  in  a 
healthy  state,  it  can  work  in  a  low  temperature 
t>etter  than  when  it  is  unhealthy.  And  what  is 
true  of  physical  life  in  this  regard  is  true  of  Christian 
life.  Many  Christians  commit  the  mistake  of  want- 
ing high  leeling  when  it  is  against  nature  that  they 
tiiould  have  it.  It  is  an  ordinance  of  God  that  the 
■ensibility  of  your  soui  snoi>id  enable  you  to  live 


and  work  well  with  low  measures  of  joy  and  feeling, 
and  that  this  should  give  a  much  more  healthy 
Christian  development  than  where  there  are  high 
reaches  of  feeling  that  touch  only  one  or  two  points. 
I  have  told  you  that  it  is  well  to  live  in  an 
atmosphere  of  high  religious  feeling  in  the  realisa- 
tion of  God's  presence.  So  it  is.  But  it  is  also 
true  that  the  experience  of  Christian  life  should  so 
educate  and  refine  the  soul  in  its  moral  sense  that 
it  can  appreciate  and  make  use  of  all  the  lower 
ranges  of  incitement.  — Beecher. 

6.  Should  not  he  separated  from  action. 

(2075.)  It  is  a  perilous  thing  to  separate  feeling 
from  acting  ;  to  have  learnt  to  feel  rightly  witiiout 
acting  rightly.  It  is  a  danger  to  which,  in  a  refined 
and  polished  age,  we  are  peculiarly  exposed.  The 
romance,  the  poem,  and  the  sermon  teach  us  how 
to  feel.  Our  feelings  are  delicately  correct.  But 
the  danger  is  this  : — feeling  is  given  to  lead  to 
action  ;  if  feeling  be  suffered  to  awake  without 
passing  into  duty,  the  character  becomes  untrue. 
When  the  emergency  for  real  action  comes,  the 
feeling  is  as  usual  produced  :  but  accustomed  as  it 
is  to  rise  in  fictitious  circumstances  without  action, 
neither  will  it  lead  on  to  action  in  the  real  ones. 
"  We  pity  wretchedness  and  shun  the  wretched." 
We  utter  sentiments,  just,  honourable,  refined, 
lofty — but  somehow,  when  a  truth  presents  itself  in 
the  shape  of  a  duty,  we  are  unable  to  perform  it. 
And  so  such  characters  become  by  degrees  like  the 
artificial  pleasure-grounds  of  bad  taste,  in  which  the 
waterfall  does  not  fall,  and  the  grotto  offers  only 
the  refreshment  of  an  imaginary  shade,  and  the 
green  hill  does  not  strike  the  skies,  and  the  tree 
does  not  grow.  Their  lives  are  a  sugared  crust  of 
sweetness  trembling  over  black  depths  of  hollow- 
ness  :  more  truly  still,  "  whited  sepulchres  " — fair 
without  to  look  upon,  "within  full  of  all  unclean- 
ness."  — Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(2076.)  "I  have  often  blamed  myself,"  said 
Boswell,  "  for  not  feeling  for  others  as  sensibly  as 
many  say  they  do."  "Sir,"  replied  Johnson, 
"don't  be  duped  by  them  any  more.  'Vou  will 
find  these  very  feeling  people  are  not  very  ready  to 
do  you  good.     They /ay  you  hy  feeling." 

A.  F.  Russell. 


FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES. 

1.  Their  necessity  and  value, 

(2077.)  The  external  part  of  religion  is,  doubtlesa^ 
of  little  value  in  comparison  with  the  internal  ;  and 
so  is  the  cask  in  comparison  with  the  wine  con- 
tained in  it ;  but  if  the  cask  be  staved,  the  wine 
must  perish.  If  there  were  no  Sundays  or  holy  days, 
no  ministers,  no  churches  or  religious  assemblies, 
no  prayers  or  sacraments,  no  scriptures  read,  or 
sermons  preached,  how  long  would  there  be  any 
religion  left  in  the  world  :  and  who  would  desire  to 
live  in  a  world  where  there  was  none  ? 

— Hortie,  1 730-1 792. 

(2078.)  Forms  are  necessary  to  religion  as  the 
means  of  its  manifestation.  As  the  invisible  God 
manifests  His  nature.  His  oc/.-cr,  wisdom,  and 
goodness,  in  visible  macenai  lorms,  in  the  bright 
orbs  of  heaven,  in  the  everlasting  hills,  in  the  broad 
earth  with  its  fruits  and  flowers,  and  in  all  the  living 


FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES.      (    357     )       FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES. 


things  which  He  has  made, — so  the  invisible  soul 
of  man  reveals  its  convictions  and  feelings  in  the 
outward  acts  which  it  performs.  As  there  could  be 
no  knowledge  of  God  without  the  visible  forms  in 
which  lie  reveals  Himself,  so  there  could  be  no 
knowledge  of  the  religion  which  exists  in  the  soul 
of  man  without  the  outward  forms  in  which  it 
expresses  itself  A  form  is  the  flag,  the  banner, 
the  symbol  of  an  inward  life  ;  it  is  to  a  religious 
belief  what  the  body  is  to  the  soul  ;  as  the  soul 
would  be  utterly  unknown  without  the  body,  so 
religion  would  be  unknown  without  its  forms,  a 
light  hidden  under  a  bushel,  and  not  set  up  in  a 
candlestick  that  it  may  give  light  to  all  that  are  in 
the  house. 

Forms  are  necessary  not  only  to  the  manifestation 
of  religion,  but  to  its  nourishment  and  continued 
existence.  A  religion  which  expressed  itself  in  no 
outward  word  or  act  would  soon  die  out  of  the  soul 
altogether.  The  attempt  to  embody  truth  and  feel- 
ing, to  express  it  in  words  and  actions,  is  necessary 
to  give  it  the  character  of  living  principle  in  the 
soul  :  in  tliis  respect  forms  are  like  the  healthy 
exercise  which  at  once  expresses  and  increases  the 
vigorous  life  of  the  body,  or  they  may  be  compared 
to  the  leaves  of  a  tree,  which  not  only  proceed  from 
its  inward  life,  but  catch  the  vitalising  influences  of 
the  light,  the  rain  and  the  atmosphere,  and  convey 
them  down  to  the  root. 

What,  then,  is  that  formalism  which  is  every- 
where in  the  scripture,  and  especially  in  the  dis- 
courses of  our  Lord,  described  as  an  offence  and 
an  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God  ?  I  answer, 
formalism  is  the  substitution  of  the  outward  rite  in 
the  place  of  the  inner  spirit  and  life  of  the  soul  ;  it 
is  the  green  leaf  which  still  hangs  upon  the  dead 
branch  which  has  been  lopped  off. 

— David  Loxton. 

(2079.)  The  Church  must  avoid  all  fomialistic 
tctniencies.  Forms,  creeds,  liturgies  are  indispens- 
able. Apples  must  have  rinds  ;  nuts  must  have 
shells  ;  corn  must  have  husks  ;  rising  walls  must 
have  scaffolding  ;  and  Christianity  must  have  these 
outside  forms  and  decencies.  But  mere  outward 
proprieties  will  not  make  a  useful  Church. 

—  Talmage. 

2.  How  their  value  is  to  tie  estimated. 

(2080.)  In  every  work  are  two  things  to  be 
regarded  ;  the  end  and  the  means.  The  thing  is 
to  be  chosen  as  being  good  in  itself;  the  means  as 
being  good  for  attaining  that  end.  The  husband- 
man sows  not  for  the  sake  of  sowing,  but  of  pro- 
curing food  for  man.  The  factory  is  constructed, 
and  the  road  laid  down,  with  a  view  to  something 
quite  distinct  from  themselves  :  the  clothing  which 
the  one  is  to  prepare,  the  distant  town  which  the 
Other  is  to  enable  us  to  reach.  There  is  a  work  of 
God  to  be  done  on  earth  through  the  Church  ; 
which,  like  all  other  works,  can  be  understood  only 
by  looking  to  its  end,  and  to  its  means  severally. 
Its  end  is  called  in  scripture  man's  being  made 
"one  with  God,"  and  thereby,  also,  one  with  his 
fellow-man.  It  is  fulfilled  in  the  condition  of 
human  spirits  ruled  by  faith,  that  worketh  by 
love  ;  and  in  the  harmony  which  this  establishes  in 
their  relation  one  to  another.  The  Gospel  is  com- 
mitted to  the  Church  as  the  grand  means  to  this 
end  being  accomplished,  both  in  and  through  the 
Church.     But  the  Church  as  a  body  of  men  placed 


in  circumstances,  some  common  to  all  men.  some 
temporary  and  local,  must  use  this  grand  means  i^ 
a  vast  diversity  of  methods  and  channels.  Hence 
are  preaching  and  teaching,  arrangements  for  wor- 
ship, variety  of  oflice,  and  ministration  in  the  Church  ; 
whatever  belongs  to  its  ordering  for  the  achieve- 
ment of  its  great  end.  And,  as  in  things  natura', 
so  in  the  grand  spiritual  society  also,  the  means  are 
good,  because  of  their  fitness  to  attain  the  end,  and 
for  no  other  reason  :  the  machine  for  the  work  it 
does ;  the  road  for  the  ease  and  safety  with  which 
it  takes  us  to  our  destination  ;  the  Church  order 
and  services  for  their  aptness  to  strengthen  and 
diffuse,  in  the  Church  and  through  the  Church,  the 
life  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man,  and  at  the  heart  of  a 
human  society.  —A.  y.  Scott,  1866. 

(2081.)  None,  I  suppose,  will  contend,  if  the 
principle  of  expediency,  that  is  of  fitness  to  an  end, 
were  admissible  as  a  foundation  for  rules  of  the 
Church  during  scriptural  times,  that  it  is  inadmis- 
sible now  :  that  plans  adopted  for  their  usefulness' 
sake  three  thousand  or  eighteen  hundred  years  ago, 
may  not  for  usefulness'  si,Ve  be  changed  for  others 
at  the  present  day.  It  seems  hardly  needful  to  say, 
that  the  evidence  of  expediency  being  the  scriptural 
groimd  for  such  arrangements,  would  not  in  any 
instance  be  a  reason  for  change,  but  only  a  proof 
of  the  lawfulness  of  change,  if  sufficient  reason  can 
be  shown.  What  was  suited  to  a  given  purpose  in 
Judea,  A.D.  34,  may  be  the  best  way  of  effecting  the 
same  thing  in  England,  A.D.  1845:  then  in  the 
strength  of  such  reasonableness  let  it  abide.  But 
if,  on  the  contrary,  being  chosen  for  its  ailaptation 
to  certain  circumstances,  these  have  passed  away, 
its  fitness  has  passed  along  with  them  ;  and  there- 
fore let  it  not  abide.  The  sundial,  if  it  stand  now 
surrounded  by  walls  that  shut  out  the  rays,  must  be 
shifted  into  the  sunshine.  If  the  sea  has  receded  by 
miles  from  the  ancient  harbour,  let  every  stone  of  it 
be  carried  down  within  the  water-mark.  The 
Church  is  too  venerable  in  her  primeval  and  eternal 
essence  for  her  to  need  or  to  care  to  amuse  an 
antiquarian  curiosity  with  the  maintenance  of  mere 
monuments  of  necessities  that  exist  no  longer. 

—A.  J.  Scott,  1866. 

(2082.)  Those  forms  are  best  which  have  been 
longest  received  and  authorised  in  a  nation  by 
custom  and  use.  Sir  IV.  'leviple,  1628-1659. 

(2083.)  Forms  of  piety,  judiciously  used,  keep  up 
the  life  of  piety.  The  nut  that  has  too  thick  a  shell 
will  have  a  wasted  kernel,  and  that  which  has  too 
thin,  will  have  its  meat  liable  to  accident  and  decay, 
whde  in  due  proportion  the  one  will  help  the  life 
and  growth  of  the  other. 

8.  Ancient  forms  are  not  needlessly  to  be  revived. 

(2084.)  The  faithful  minister  is  not  zealous  for 
the  introducing  of  old  useless  ceremonies.  The 
mischief  is,  some  that  are  most  violent  to  bring  such 
in  are  most  negligent  to  preach  the  cautions  in 
using  them  ;  and  simple  people,  like  children  in 
eating  of  fish,  swallow  bones  ar  '  all.  to  their 
danger  of  choking.  — Fuller,  1 608-166 1. 

4.  Ancient  forms  are  not  necessarily  service- 
able now. 

(2085.)  True  reverence  for  antiquity  seeks  a 
Church  presenting  the  clearest  image  of  eternity  ia 


FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES.       (     358    )       FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES. 


the  midst  of  the  mutations  of  time.  This  she  is  to 
do  by  ihe  inward  vigour  of  the  essential  principles 
of  her  life,  dropping  off  forms  no  longer  useful,  as 
the  oak  has  done  the  leaves  of  last  summer.  The 
live  oak  abides  the  same  by  its  vitality,  while  it 
changes  form  and  dimensions  by  growth  :  the  mass 
of  squared  timber  has  lost  its  power  of  assimilation, 
its  command  of  resources ;  death  enables  it  to 
remain  unchanged  in  form,  till  death  brings  decay 
that  changes  form  and  substance.  What  is  dead  is 
changed  from  without — what  lives  ciianges  from 
within.  Even  in  forms  and  methods,  the  old  is  not 
to  be  set  aside  for  being  old  ;  nay,  this  is  of  itself  so 
far  in  its  favour.  Let  its  antiquity  be  considered  as 
a  reason,  not  as  foreclosing  all  reasoning  about 
it. 

I  am  far  from  maintaining  that  there  are  no 
ordinances  of  the  Church  which  are  unalterable. 
What  is  adapted  to  humanity,  as  such,  will  abide 
through  all  periods  of  human  history.  Sometimes 
this  eternal  adaptation  is  watched  over  by  express 
declaration  of  the  authority  which  originally  estab- 
lished the  rule — sometimes  by  the  wisdom  bestowed 
on  the  succeeding  ages,  to  discern  that  it  is  still 
suitable  for  them.  Otherwise,  the  mere  existence 
of  a  regulation  in  the  Church,  or  its  existence  during 
the  biblical  ages,  or  the  wisdom  of  the  spirit  in  him 
who  introduced  it,  or  its  express  Divine  authority  at 
the  season  and  in  the  place  of  its  introduction, 
constitutes  of  itself  no  authority,  divine  or  human, 
for  that  constitution  abiding  in  the  actual  state  of 
things.  That  a  minister,  for  instance,  wore  a 
certain  dress  in  the  second  century  may  be  a  good 
example  for  a  minister  in  the  nineteenth  wearing 
a  different  dress  :  because  that  worn  in  the  second 
may  have  been  the  ordinary  dress  of  decent  citizens, 
and  to  wear  the  ordinary  respectable  dress  of  our 
own  time  is  to  follow  that  example.  But  the  priest 
who  puts  on  the  chasuble  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
appearing  in  a  piece  of  strange  antiquity  to  strike 
the  beholder,  acts  on  a  contrary  principle.  With 
as  good  reason  a  modern  soldier  might  think  lie 
resembled  Julius  Caesar  by  instituting  the  balista 
and  the  ram  in  the  place  of  field-pieces  and  batter- 
ing-cannon, and  in  encountering  a  foe  who  used 
these  new  resources  of  war. 

This  mistaken  formality  in  the  use  of  tradition 
shows  itself  in  all  quarters.  Because  George  Fox 
wore  the  homeliest  common  dress  oi  his  iiu'C, 
setting  an  example  of  thrifty  simplicity,  the  modern 
Quaker  must  put  on  a  dress  which  is  not  at  all  homely, 
and  not  at  an  common.  Because  Roman  court-houses 
were  granted  centuries  ago  for  the  meeting-places 
of  the  Christian  Church — which,  for  convenience, 
the  Church  thankfully  accepted — churches  nowa- 
days must  have  the  ground-plan  of  a  Roman  court- 
house, whether  convenient  or  not.  In  short, 
because  it  was  wise  and  good  to  act  in  a  certain 
manner  in  certain  circumstances,  we  fancy  it  wise 
and  good  to  mimic  the  mere  outward  details  of  that 
p»'ccedure,  when  all  the  determining  circumstances 
arc  changed  :  as  if,  because  protection  against  rain 
in  the  great  need  of  our  climate,  missionaries  were 
to  be  prepared  with  garments  of  water-proof  for  the 
dry  heats  of  Egypt :  as  if  some  traditionary  chemist 
were  to  apply,  as  a  remedy  for  gunshot  wounds, 
some  proved  antidote  to  the  poisoned  arrows  of 
the  Picts,  with  whom  our  ancestors  made  war 
at  the  venerable  distance  of  fourteen  hundred 
years. 

—A.  y.  Scott,  1866. 


6.  Are  powerless  to  revive  a  declining:  faltb. 

(2086.)  To  expect  to  revive  a  declining  faith 
merely  by  multiplying  ceremonies,  is  as  hopeless  as 
to  multiply  pumps  in  a  dry  well  or  to  try  to  restore 
the  dead»by  mt're  garments.  The  life  to  refill  these 
empty  veins  must  come  from  another  source.  It 
must  come  by  prayer,  from  the  Spirit  of  God. 

— Huntington, 

6.  A  multiplication  of  forms  is  hostile  to 
religion. 

(20S7.)  The  right  knowledge  of  God,  vanishes 
when  men's  inventions  in  H.is  ordinances  come  to 
be  iionoured.  As  painted  glass  in  your  windows 
hinders  the  light,  so  the  more  inventions  of  men 
there  are  in  God's  worship,  the  less  light  comes 
into  the  hearts  of  the  people.  As  some,  not  con- 
tented with  ordinary  plain  letters,  make  such 
flourishes  about  them  that  you  can  scarcely  tell  what 
they  are,  and  write  their  names  so  that  you  cannot 
tell  what  to  make  of  them, — so  many  men  that  will 
not  content  themselves  with  plain  ordinances,— 
with  the  ordinances  of  Christ, — but  must  have 
flourishes  of  their  own  invention,  at  length  darken 
the  right  understanding  of  the  mind  and  truths  of 
God,  so  that  you  know  not  what  to  make  of  them. 
"To  the  law  and  to  the  testimony,"  saith  the 
prophet;  "if  they  speak  not  according  to  this 
Word,  it  is  because  there  is  no  light  in  them."  If 
they  will  leave  the  law  and  the  testimony,  and  will 
do  according  to  their  own  inventions  in  Divine 
worship,  it  is  because  there  is  no  light  in  them, 
and  they  will  bring  darkness  upon  the  people.  In 
Col.  ii.  22,  it  is  said  of  the  rudiments  of  the  world 
and  the  ordinances  of  men  that  they  "perish  with 
the  using," — that  is,  there  is  no  efficacy  at  all  in 
them  to  do  any  good  unto  the  souls  of  men. 

"  Our  adversaries  call  images  and  picture  books 
to  teach  laymen  ;  but  the  Scriptures  tell  us  they 
teach  a  lie.  And  if  they  be  layman's  books,  they 
are  full  of  errata  in  every  page, — yea,  there  are 
more  errata  than  true  lines.  The  best  that  we  can 
say  of  any  ceremonies  brought  into  the  Church  by 
men  (because  people  would  endeavour  to  excuse  the 
first  Reformers)  is,  that  they  thought  at  that  time 
they  were  required  because  of  the  dulness  of  men  ; 
for  so  they  say  in  the  preface  to  the  Common  Prayer- 
book — that  it  was  to  stir  up  the  dull  minds  of  men. 
But,  mark,  if  it  could  possibly  be  imagined  that 
tneic  cculd  be  any  use  in  them  in  the  first  Reforma- 
tion (which,  indeed,  there  was  not,  but  rather  they 
did  hurt,  and  made  men's  minds  more  dull,  as  I 
dare  appeal  to  you  who  have  lived  under  such 
inventions  of  men  in  God's  worship), — but  if  pos- 
sibly (I  say)  there  could  be  imagined  any  use  of 
them  at  the  first,  they  were  at  best  but  as  horn- 
books and  fescues  [pointers]  for  the  ciiildhood  and 
infancy  of  the  Church.  They  say  themselves  that 
they  needed  such  things,  but  they  could  have  needed 
them  only  as  children  need  horn-books  and  fescues. 
And  is  it  seemly  always  to  learn  upon  them  ?  What 
knowledge  will  be  acquired  if,  when  you  set  your 
children  to  learn  to  read,  they  shall  be  kept  ten, 
twenty,  or  thirty  years  to  their  horn-books?  Now, 
thu?  would  our  prelates  [to-day  our  Puseyites]  have 
debased  people  to  keep  them  continually  to  learn 
the  knowledge  of  God  by  these  their  beggarly 
elements."  — Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

(2088.)  The  Christian  dispensation  is  distinguished 
for  Its  simplicity  in  the  worship  of  God.      Supersti- 


FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES.       (    359    )       FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES. 


tlon  delights  in  introducing  carnal  rites,  and  values 
itself  upon  its  own  opinionative  gootiness.  These 
men  mistake  the  swelling  of  a  dropsy  for  a  sub- 
stantial growth,  and  piesume  themselves  to  be 
more  holy  than  others,  for  their  proud  singularity. 
Superstition  is  like  ivy  that  twines  about  the  tree, 
and  is  its  seeming  ornament,  but  draws  its  vital 
sap,  and  under  its  verdant  leaves  covers  a  carcass. 
Thus  carnal  ceremonies  seem  to  adorn  religion,  but 
really  dispirit  and  weaken  its  etificacy. 

— Salter,  184a 

(2089.)  It  is  in  the  nature  of  a  religion  of  many 
forms  to  degenerate  into  one  of  form.  By  occupy- 
ing and  indeed  engrossing  the  aitention  of  the 
worshipper  they  withdraw  it  from  the  state  of  his 
heart,  and  prove  as  pernicious  to  true  piety  as  a 
superabundance  of  leaves  to  the  plant  whose  sap  is 
spent  on  feeding  the  leaf,  to  the  detriment  of  the 
fndt :  and  perhaps  some  churches  might  be  bene- 
fited by  a  free  use  of  the  knife  with  which  the 
gardener  prunes  away  the  flush  of  green  wood  to 
increase  the  crop  of  fruit. 

Let  us  never  forget  that  forms  are  not  religion, 
but  only  its  drapery  ;  and  that,  as  they  dress 
children  lightly  who  v\ish  to  brace  their  frames,  as 
the  labourer  throws  off  his  coat  to  work,  and  as  in 
the  ancient  games  the  candidates  stepped  into  the 
racecourse  unencumbered  with  many,  or  heavy, 
garments,  the  fewer  forms  which  religion  wears, 
consistent  with  decency  and  order,  the  more  robust 
she  will  grow — she  will  work  wiih  greater  energy — 
and,  like  one  of  the  beautiful  mould  and  symmetry, 
she  will  walk  with  more  native,  queenly  grace — 
when 

"  Unadorned,  adornt^d  the  most." 

—  Guthrie. 

7.  Scripture  authority  Is  not  to  be  demanded 
for  every  minute  detail  of  ecclesiastical  arrange- 
ment. 

(2090.)  If  any  be  so  vain,  as  to  demand  a  scrip- 
ture-proof of  this  ;  {i.e.,  the  keeping  a  register  of  the 
Church  members],  let  him  first  bring  me  a  scrip- 
ture-proof that  he  may  read  with  spectacles,  or 
write  a  sermon  from  the  preacher's  mouth,  or  use 
notes  in  the  pulpit,  or  print,  &c.,  and  then  I  will 
give  him  proof  of  this.  — Baxter. 

8.  The  folly  of  an  Indlscrlminating  zeal  concern- 
ing them. 

(2091.)  There  are  some  matters  of  opinion  and 
practice  that  are  but  in  the  skirts  of  religion  and 
godliness,  far  from  the  heart  of  it,  e.g.,  the  less  con- 
siderable questions  about  rites,  order,  discipline, 
&c.  If  these  take  up  as  much  or  more  of  the  vitals 
of  godliness,  we  are  like  but  to  make  an  inconsider- 
able improvement  in  the  main.  And  then  whatever 
our  proficiency  be  in  minute  things,  and  such  as  are 
not  material,  it  will  turn  to  no  great  account  when 
God  comes  to  seek  for  fruit.  If  we  be  more  busy 
about  the  fringe  and  lace  than  the  body  and  soul  of 
religion,  or  if  that  which  is  but  as  the  hair  be  of 
more  regard  with  us  than  the  head  of  it,  we  may  be 
fruitful  in  trifles,  but  barren  in  what  is  of  greatest 
value  and  consequence.  This  is  as  if  a  gardener 
should  take  much  pains  in  watering  and  pruning  one 
small  branch  or  sprig,  but  should  do  nothing  at  all 
to  the  main  arms,  or  the  body  or  the  root  ol  the  tree. 
rkat  is  not  the  way  to  make  it  bear  well. 

— Charkson,  1621-1686. 


9.  Are  not  to  be  enforced  hy  penalties. 

(2092.)   I    must    confess    I  am  still    guilty  of  so 
much   weakness    as    to    be   confident    "  that    som<» 
things,  not  evil  of  themselves,   may  have  accidents 
so  evil  as  may  make  it  a  sin  to  him  that  shall  com- 
mand  them."     Is  this  opinion  inconsistent  with  all 
government  ?     Yea,  I  must  confess  myself  guilty  of 
so    much    greater   weakness,   as    that    I    thought    I 
should  never  have  found  a  man  on  earth,  that  had 
the    ordinary    reason    of    a    man,    that    had    made 
question  of  it ;  yea  I  shall  say  more  than  that  which 
hath    ofiended,    viz.      "  That    whenever    the   com- 
manding or  forbidding  of  a  thing  indifferent  is  like 
to  occasion  more  hurt  than  good,  and  this  may  be 
foreseen,  the  commanding  or  forbidding  it  is  a  sin." 
But    yet    this    is     not     the    assertion     that   I     am 
chargeable  with,  but   that   "some   accidents   there 
may  be  that  may  make  the  imposition  sinful."     If 
I  may  ask  it  without  accusing  others,  how  would 
my  crime  have  been  denominated  if  I  had  said  the 
contrary  ?     Should   I  not  have  been  judged  unmeet 
to  live  in  any  governed  society?     It  is  not  unlawful 
of  itself  to  command  out  a  navy  to  sea  ;  but  if  it 
were  foreseen  that  they  would  fall  into  the  enemy's 
hands,  or  were  like  to  perish  by  any  accident,  and 
the  necessity  of  sending  them  were  small,  or   none, 
it  were  a  sin  to  send   them.      It  is  not  of  itself  un- 
lawful to  sell  poison,  or  to  give  a  knife  to  another, 
or  to  bid  another  do  it  :  but  if  it  were  foreseen  that 
they  will  be  used   to  poison  or  kill  the  buyer,  it  is 
unlawful ;    and   I    think    the  law  would    make  him 
believe  it  that  were  guilty.     It  is  not  of  itself  un- 
lawful  to   light   a  candle  or  set  fire  to  straw  ;  but 
if  it  may  be  toreknown,  that  by  another's  negligence 
or  wilfulness,  it  is  like  to  set   fire  to  the  city,  or  to 
give  fire  to  a  train  and  store  of  gunpowder  that  is 
under    the   parliament   house,   when    the   king   and 
parliament  are  there  :   I  crave  the  bishop's  pardon, 
for  believing  that  it  were  sinful  to  do  it,  or  com- 
mand it ;  yea  or  not  to  hinder  it  (in  any  such  case,) 
when    "  qui  non  vetat  peccare  cum  potest,  jubet." 
Yea,  though  going  to  God's  public  worship  be  of 
itself  so  far  from  being  a  sin,  as  that  it  is  a  duty,  yet 
I  think  it  is  a  sin  to  command  it  to  all  in  time  of  a 
raging  pestilence,  or  when  they  should  be  defending 
the  city  against  the  assault   of  an   enemy.      It  may 
rather  be  then  a  duty  to  prohibit  it.      I   think  Paul 
spake    not   anything   inconsistent  with  the  govern- 
ment of  God  or  man,  when  he  bid  both  the  rulers 
and  people  of  the  Church,  not  to  destroy  him  with 
their   meat   for    whom   Christ  died  :  and    when   he 
saith  that  he  hath  not  his  power  to  destruction,  but 
to  edification.     Yea,   there  are  evil   accidents  of  a 
thing  not  evil  of  itself,  that  are  caused   by  the  com- 
mander :  and  it  is  my  opinion  that  they  may  prove 
his  command  unlawful. 

But  what  need  I  use  any  other  instances  than  that 
which  was  the  matter  of  our  dispute  ?  Suppose  it 
never  so  lawful  of  itself  to  kneel  in  the  reception  of 
the  sacrament,  if  it  be  imposed  by  a  penalty  that  is 
incomparably  beyond  the  proportion  of  the  oflence, 
that  penalty  is  an  accident  of  the  command,  and 
maketh  it  by  accident  sinful  in  the  commander.  If 
a  prince  should  haw  subjects  so  weak  as  that  all 
of  them  thought  it  a  sin  against  the  example  of 
Christ,  and  the  canons  of  the  General  Councils,  and 
many  hundred  years  practice  of  the  Church,  to  kneel 
in  the  act  ol  receiving  on  the  Lord's  day,  if  he 
should  make  a  law  that  all  should  be  put  to  death 
that  would  not  kneel,  when  he  foreknew  that  their 
,  consciences  would  command  them  all.  or  most  0/ 


FRIENDSHIP. 


(    360     ) 


FRIENDSHIP. 


them,  to  die  rather  than  obey,  would  any  man  deny 
this  command  to  be  unlawful  by  this  accident  ? 
Whether  the  penalty  of  ejecting  ministers  that  dare 
not  put  away  all  that  do  not  kneel,  and  of  casting  out 
all  the  people  that  scruple  it,  from  tlie  Church,  be 
too  great  for  such  a  circumstance  (and  so  in  the 
rest),  and  whether  this,  with  the  lamentable  state  of 
many  congregations,  and  the  divisions  that  will 
follow,  being  all  foreseen,  do  prove  the  impositions 
unlawful  which  were  then  in  question,  is  a  case  that 
I  had  then  a  clearer  call  to  speak  to  than  I  have 
now.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

1.  Defined. 

(2093.)  Friendship  is  a  strong  and  habitual  incli- 
nation in  two  persons  to  promote  the  good  and 
happiness  of  each  other. 

— Addison,  1672-1719. 

SL  Its  pleasures  and  advantages. 

(2094.)  Friendship  improves  happiness,  and 
abates  misery,  by  the  doubling  of  our  joy,  and 
the  dividing  of  our  grief.  — Cuero. 

(2095.)  -^  principal  fruit  of  friendship  is  the  ease 
and  discharge  of  the  fulness  of  the  heart  which 
passions  of  all  kinds  do  cause  and  induce. 

— Lord  Bacon,  1560-1626. 

(2096.)  A  man  hath  a  body,  and  that  body  is 
confined  to  a  place  ;  but  where  friendship  is  all 
offices  of  life  are,  as  it  were,  granted  to  him  and  his 
deputy  ;  for  he  may  exercise  them  by  his  friend. 
How  many  things  are  there  which  a  man  cannot, 
with  any  face  or  comeliness,  say  or  do  himself !  A 
man  can  scarce  allege  his  own  merits  with  modesty, 
much  less  extol  them  ;  a  man  cannot  sometimes 
brook  to  supplicate,  or  beg,  and  a  number  of  the 
like  :  but  all  these  things  are  graceful  in  a  friend's 
mouth  which  are  blushing  in  a  man's  own. 

— Lord  Bacon,  1560-1626. 

(2097.)  Heraclitussaith  well  in  one  of  his  enigmas, 
"Dry  light  is  ever  the  best,"  and  certain  it  is  that 
the  light  that  a  man  receiveth  by  counsel  from 
another  is  drier  and  purer  than  that  which  cometh 
from  his  own  understanding  and  judgment ;  which 
is  ever  infused  and  drenched  in  his  affections  and 
customs.  So  there  is  as  much  difference  between 
the  counsel  that  a  friend  giveth,  and  that  a  man 
giveth  himself,  as  there  is  between  the  counsel  of  a 
friend  and  of  a  flatterer ;  for  there  is  no  such  flat- 
terer as  is  a  man's  self,  and  there  is  no  such  remedy 
against  flattery  of  a  man's  self  as  the  liberty  of  a 
friend.  — Lord  Bacon,  1 560-1 626. 

(2098.)  A  friend  shares  my  sorrow,  and  makes 
it  but  a  moiety  ;  but  he  swells  my  joy,  and  makes 
it  double.  For  so  two  channels  divide  the  river, 
and  lessen  it  into  rivulets,  and  make  it  fordable, 
and  apt  to  drink  up  at  the  first  revels  of  the  Syrian 
star  ;  but  two  torches  do  not  divide,  but  increase 
the  flame.  And  though  my  tears  are  the  sooner 
dried  up  when  they  run  on  my  friend's  cheeks  in 
the  furrows  of  compassion ;  yet  when  my  flame 
has  kindled  his  lamp,  we  unite  the  glories,  and 
make  them  radiant,  like  the  golden  candlesticks 
that  burn  before  the  throne  of  God ;  because  tkcy 


shineby  numbers,  by  unions,  and  confederations  of 
light  and  joy.  — Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(2099.)  Get  some  Christian  friend  (whom  thou 
mayest  trust  above  all  others)  to  be  thy  faithful 
monitor.  Oh,  that  man  hath  a  great  help  for  the 
maintaining  the  power  of  godliness  that  hath  an 
open-hearted  friend  that  dare  speak  his  heart  to 
him.  A  stander-by  sees  more  sometimes  of  a  man 
than  the  actor  can  do  of  himself,  and  is  more  fit  to 
judge  of  his  actions  than  he  of  his  own  ;  sometimes 
sell-love  blinds  us  in  our  own  cause,  that  we  see 
not  ourselves  as  bad  as  we  are  ;  and  sometimes  we 
are  over-suspicious  of  the  worst  of  ourselves,  which 
makes  us  appear  to  ourselves  worse  than  we  are. 
Now,  that  thou  mayest  not  deprive  thyself  of  so 
great  help  from  thy  friend,  be  sure  to  keep  thy  heart 
ready  with  meekness  to  receive,  yea,  with  thankful- 
ness embrace,  a  reproof  from  his  mouth.  Those  that 
cannot  bear  plain  dealing  hurt  themselves  most ;  for 
by  this  they  seldom  bear  the  truth. 

— Giirnall,  1617-1619. 

(2100.)  Love  is  the  greatest  of  human  affections, 
and  friendship  the  noblest  and  most  refined  improve* 
nient  of  love.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(2101.)  Friendship  is  the  shadow  of  the  evening, 
which  strengthens  with  the  setting  sun  of  life. 

— La  tontaine,  1 62 1- 1695. 

(2102.)  Friendship  hath  the  skill  and  observation 
of  the  best  physician  ;  the  diligence  and  vigilance 
of  the  best  nurse  ;  and  the  tenderness  and  patience 
of  the  best  mother. 

— Lord  Clarendon,  1608- 1 673, 

(2103.)  We  learn  our  virtues  from  the  bosom 
friends  who  love  us  ;  our  faults  from  the  enemy  who 
hates  us.  We  cannot  easily  discover  our  real  form 
from  a  friend.  He  is  a  mirror,  on  which  the 
warmth  of  our  breath  impedes  the  clearness  of  the 
reflection.  — Ricliter,  1763-1825. 

(2104.)  He  who  has  made  the  acquisition  of  a 
judicious  and  sympathising  friend  may  be  said  to 
have  doubled  his  mental  resources. 

—Robert  Hally  1 764-1831. 

(2105.)  A  man  in  adversity  is  like  a  shipwrecked 
and  dismantled  ship  upon  the  desert  strand,  he 
needeth  much  reparation  and  outfit  before  he  can 
be  of  use  to  any  one.  A  man  in  prosperity  is  like  a 
ship  full-laden  with  costly  goods,  which  is  a  prize  to 
every  one  that  is  needed,  and  an  honour  to  every 
one  who  has  in  her  any  share  of  interest.  A  man 
who  is  rejected  and  despised  of  the  world  is  like  a 
ship  that  is  not  seaworthy,  in  which  no  one  will  risk 
an  atom  of  his  wealth,  and  which  proves  a  clog 
upon  the  course  of  any  free  and  fair  sailing  vessel ; 
whereas,  a  man  whom  the  world  embraceth  with  its 
favours,  and  who  flourisheth  in  prosperity,  is  like  a 
convoy  ship,  under  whose  lofty  and  unarmed  sides 
many  sail  in  safety. 

Who  is  he  that  hath  had  the  world  set  against 
him,  or  whom  the  world  hath  dashed  from  his 
anchorage  ground,  that  hath  not  known,  amidst 
these  backwaters  of  the  soul,  the  good  and  the 
strength  of  heart  there  is  in  a  friend  upon  whom  to 
fall  back,  and  by  whom  to  be  received  as  into  a 
haven,  and  fitted  out  again  for  another  encounter? 
Happy  is  he  who  hath  one  into  whose  ear  his  soul 
may  tell  its  calamities,  show  its  weakness,  and  lay 


FRIENDSHIP. 


(     3&r     ) 


FRIENDSHIP. 


open  its  wounds ;  from  whose  lips  it  may  receive 
the  consolation  and  tender  counsels  it  needeth  ;  at 
whc?e  hand  accept  the  help,  and  if  need  be,  the 
medicine  which  cures  adversity,  and  whose  bitter- 
ness is  savoury  when  administered  by  the  hand  of  a 
friend.  — Irving,  1792-1834. 

8.  True  frlendslilp  Is  rare. 

(2106.)  Some,  thi'ough  a  kind  of  lightness  in  them, 
use  their  friends  like  nosegays,  which  longer  than 
they  are  fresh  are  in  no  reckoning. 

— Bayne,  161 7. 

(2107.)  The  friendship  of  most  men  is  like  some 
plants  in  the  water,  which  have  broad  leaves  on  the 
surface  of  the  water,  but  scarce  any  root  at  all  ;  like 
lemons,  cold  within,  hot  without  ;  full  expressions, 
empty  intentions  ;  speak  loud,  and  do  little  ;  like 
drums  and  trumpets  and  ensigns  in  a  battle,  which 
make  a  noise  and  a  show,  but  act  nothing — mere 
friendship  in  pretence  and  compliment,  that  can 
bow  handsomely,  and  promise  emphatically,  and 
speak  plausibly,  and  forget  all.  But  a  true,  real, 
active  friend,  whose  words  are  the  windows  «f  his 
heart,  crufx^oXa  ira^rj/xaTa  (the  notifiers  of  his  affec- 
tions)— such  a  friend  is  rare  and  hardly  to  be  found. 
— Spencer,  1658. 

(2108.)  There  are  some  drugs  very  wholesome, 
but  very  bitter,  good  in  the  operation,  but  unkind 
in  the  palate  :  as  the  common  saying  is,  "whole- 
some, but  not  toothsome."  Such  are  some  friends 
in  the  world,  real  in  their  love,  but  morose  in  their 
expressions  of  it,  that  a  man  is  almost  afraid  of  their 
very  kindnesses.  But  it  is  the  good  fortune  of  few  to 
meet  with  a  man  who  shall  be  as  full  of  sweetness 
as  fidelity,  whose  love  is  not  like  a  pill  that  must  be 
wrapped  in  something  else  before  a  man  can  swallow 
it,  but  whose  candour  and  sereneness  make  his  love 
as  amiable  as  useful  to  his  friend  ;  so  that  he  may 
very  well  be  said  to  deserve  the  character  given  to 
one  of  the  Roman  emperors,  "  A'enihien  iinquam 
dimisii  tnstem:"  of  such  a  disposition,  made  up  of 
love  and  sweetness,  of  such  a  balsamic  nature,  that 
is  all  for  healing  and  helpfulness. 

— Spencer,  1658. 

(2109  )  People  young  and  raw  and  soft-natured 
think  it  an  easy  thing  to  gain  love,  and  reckon  their 
own  friendship  a  sure  price  of  any  man's  ;  but  when 
experience  shall  have  shown  them  the  hardness  of 
most  hearts,  the  hollowness  of  others,  and  the  base- 
ness and  ingratitude  of  almost  all,  they  will  then 
find  that  a  friend  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  that  He 
only  who  made  hearts  can  unite  them. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 16. 

(21 10.)  When  a  man  shall  have  done  all  that  he 
can  to  make  one  his  friend,  and  emptied  his  purse 
to  create  endearment  between  them,  he  may,  in  the 
eiid,  be  forced  to  write  vanity  and  frustration. 

— Sout/i,  1 633-1 716. 

(2111.)  A  long  life  may  be  passed  without  find- 
ing a  friend  in  whose  understanding  and  virtue  we 
can  equally  confide,  and  whose  opinion  we  can 
value  at  once  for  its  justness  and  sincerity.  A  weak 
man,  however  honest,  is  not  qualified  to  judge.  A 
man  of  the  world,  however  penetrating,  is  not  fit  to 
counsel.  Friends  are  often  chosen  for  similitude  of 
manners,  and  therefore  each  palliates  the  other's 
tailings  because   the^   are   his   own.     Friends  are 


tender,  and  unwilling  to  give  pain;  or  they  are  in- 
terested, and  fearful  to  offend. 

— Dr.  S.  Johnson,  1709-1784. 

(21 12.)  When  Socrates  was  building  himself  a 
house  at  Athens,  being  asked  V)y  one  that  oberved 
the  littleness  of  the  design,  why  a  man  so  eminent 
would  not  have  an  abode  more  suitable  to  his 
dignity?  he  replied,  that  he  should  think  him- 
self sufficiently  accommodated  if  he  could  see  that 
narrow  habitation  filled  with  real  friends.  Such 
was  the  opinion  of  this  great  master  of  human  life, 
concerning  tiie  unfrequency  of  such  a  union  of  minds 
as  might  deserve  the  name  of  friendship,  that  among 
the  multitudes  whom  vanity  or  curiosity,  civility  or 
veneration,  crowded  about  him,  he  did  not  expect 
that  very  spacious  apartments  would  be  necessary  to 
contain  all  that  should  regard  him  with  sincere 
kindness  or  adhere  to  him  with  steady  fidelity. 

So  many  qualities  are  indeed  requisite  to  the 
possibility  of  friendship,  and  so  many  accidents 
must  concur  to  its  rise  and  its  continuance,  that  the 
greatest  part  of  mankind  content  themselves  witliout 
it,  and  supply  its  place  as  they  can  with  interest 
and  dependence.    — Dr.  S.  Johnson,  1709-1784. 

4.  True  and  false  friendship. 

(21 13.)  False  friendship  is  like  the  ivy,  decays 
and  ruins  the  wall  it  embraces  ;  but  true  friendship 
gives  new  life  and  animation  to  the  object  it  sup- 
ports. — Robert  Burton,  1 556-1640. 

(2114.)  You  may  distinguish  worldly  friendship 
from  that  which  is  holy  and  virtuous,  as  the  poison- 
ous honey  of  Heiaclea  is  known  from  the  other  : 
for  as  the  honey  of  Heraclea  is  sweeter  to  the  tongue 
than  the  ordinary  honey,  because  of  the  juice  of 
the  aconite,  which  gives  it  an  additional  sweetness, 
so  worldly  friemlship,  ordinarily,  produces  a  great 
profusion  of  sweet  words,  passionate  expressions, 
with  admiration  of  beauty,  behaviour,  and  other 
sensual  qualities,  whereas  holy  friendship  spenks  a 
plain  and  sincere  language,  and  commends  nothing 
but  virtue  and  the  grace  of  God,  the  only  founda- 
tion on  which  it  subsists. 

As  the  honey  of  Heraclea,  when  swallowed  down, 
occasions  a  giddiness,  so  false  friendship  breeds  a 
vertigo  in  the  mind,  which  makes  persons  stagger 
in  chastity  and  devotion,  carrying  them  on  to  affected, 
wanton,  and  immoderate  looks,  sensual  caresses, 
&c.  But  holy  friendship  has  no  looks  but  what  are 
simple  and  modest  ;  no  caresses  but  pure  and  sin- 
cere ;  no  sighs  but  for  heaven  ;  no  familiarities 
but  spiritual  ;  no  complaints  but  when  God  is  not 
beloved, — infallible  marks  of  honesty. 

As  the  honey  of  Heraclea  is  troublesome  to  the 
sight,  so  this  worldly  friendship  dazzle*  the  judg- 
ment to  such  a  degree  that  they  who  are  infected, 
therewith  think  they  do  well  when  they  do  ill,  and 
believe  their  excuses  and  pretexts  for  two  reasons. 
They  fear  the  light  and  love  darkness.  Cut  holy 
friendship  is  clear-sighted,  and  never  hides  herself, 
but  appears  willingly  before  such  as  are  good. 

In  fine,  the  honey  of  Heraclea  leaves  a  gieat  bit- 
terness in  the  mouth  ;  so  false  friendships  change 
into  lewd  and  carnal  words  and  demands,  or,  m 
case  of  refusal,  into  injuries,  slanders,  imposture, 
sadness,  confusion,  and  jealousies,  which  olten  ter- 
minate in  downright  madness.  But  chaste  friend- 
ship io  always  equall;/  hooest,  civil  and  amiable, 


FRIENDSHIP. 


(    3^2     ) 


FRIENDSHIP 


md  never  changes,  but  into  a  more  perfect  and 
>ure  union  of  spirits.  — Francis  De  Sales. 

6  Should  neither  be  formed  hastily,  nor  carried 
CO  excess. 

(21 15.)  Procure  not  friends  in  haste,  and  when 
thou  hast  a  friend  part  not  with  him  in  haste. 

— Solon. 

(21 16.)  Too  much  friendship  makes  way  for  hatred. 
Yea,  in  truth  there  is  no  enmity  so  dangerous  as 
that  which  has  ils  foundations  upon  t!ie  ruins  of 
love.  And  as  in  nature,  the  purest  substance  is 
turned  into  the  most  loathsome  corruption  ;  so  the 
hottest  love,  which  has  no  other  ground  but  carnal 
respect,  degenerates  oftentimes  into  the  most  deadly 
and  hurtlul  enmity.  For  being  privy  to  all  their 
friends'  secrets,  counsels,  and  conditions,  they  are 
the  more  enabled  thereby  to  do  them  the  greater 
mischief  when  their  love  is  turned  to  malice.  Even 
as  a  traitor  is  much  more  dangerous  than  a  professed 
enemy  ;  and  a  fugitive  soldier  more  pernicious  in 
time  of  war  than  he  that  assaults  with  open 
violence.  — Dotuiiavte,  1644. 

(2117.)  Let  friendship  creep  gently  to  a  height: 
if  it  rush  to  it,  it  may  soon  run  itself  out  of  breath. 
—  T.  Fuller,  1608- 1 66 1. 

(21 18.)  I  will  take  heed  both  of  a  speedy  friend 
and  a  slow  enemy.  Love  is  never  lasting  that  flames 
before  it  burns.  And  hate,  like  wetted  coals,  throws 
a  fiercer  heat  when  lire  gets  the  mastery.  As  the 
first  may  quickly  fail  ;  so  the  latter  will  hardly  be 
altered.  Early  fruits  rot  soon.  As  quick  wits  have 
seldom  sound  judgment,  which  should  make  them 
continue;  so  friendship  kindled  suddenly  is  rarely 
found  with  durability  of  affection.  Enduring  love 
is  ever  built  on  virtue  ;  which  no  man  can  see  in 
another  at  once.  — Felltham,  1668. 

(21 19.)  In  the  choice  of  a  bosom  friend,  some 
respect  ought  to  be  had  to  his  prudence.  Some 
men,  though  holy,  are  indiscreet,  and  in  point  of 
secrets  are  like  sieves — can  keep  nothing  committed 
to  them,  but  let  all  run  through.  A  blab  of  secrets 
is  a  traitor  to  society,  as  one  that  causes  much  dis- 
sension. It  is  good  to  try  him  whom  we  intend  for 
a  bosom  friend  before  we  trust  him  ;  as  men  prove 
their  vessels  with  water  before  they  fill  them  with 
wine  :  if  we  find  them  leaking,  they  will  be  useless 
to  that  purpose.  Many  complain  of  the  treachery 
of  their  friends,  and  say,  as  Queen  Elizabeth,  that 
in  trust  they  have  found  treason  ;  but  most  of  these 
men  have  greatest  cause,  if  all  things  be  duly  weigh- 
ed, to  complain  of  themselves  for  making  no  better 
choice.  He  is  rightly  served  in  all  men's  judgments, 
who  has  his  liquor  running  out,  which  he  puts  into 
a  leaking  vessel  or  riven  dish. 

Too  many  are  like  the  Dead  Sea,  in  which  nothing 
sinks  to  the  bottom,  but  everything  thrown  into  it 
swims  at  the  top,  and  is  in  sight. 

Companions  of  my  secrets  are  Hke  locks  that  be- 
long to  a  house  :  whilst  they  are  strong  and  close, 
they  preserve  me  in  safety  ;  but  weak  and  open, 
they  expose  me  to  danger,  and  make  me  a  prey  to 
others. 

If  thou  hast  found  a  man  false  once,  beware  of 
him  the  second  time.  He  deserves  to  break  his 
shins  that  stumbles  twice  at  one  stone.  That 
oroverb  of  the  Italians  is  worthy  of  consideration  : 
**  If  a  nnan  deceive  me  once,  it  is  his  own  fault ;  if  a 


second  time,  it  is  my  fault."  He  had  need  to  sit 
sure  who  backs  that  horse  which  once  has  cast  his 
rider.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(2120.)  A  long  novitiate  of  acquaintance  should 
precede  the  vows  of  friendship. 

—  Lord  Bolingbroke,  1678-1751. 

(2121.)  We  ought  always  to  make  choice  of  per- 
sons of  such  worth  and  honour  for  our  friends,  that 
if  they  should  ever  cease  to  be  so,  they  will  not 
abuse  our  confidence,  nor  give  us  cause  to  feai 
them  as  enemies.  — Addison,  1672-1719. 

(2122.)  Real  friendship  is  a  slow  grower,  and 
never  thrives  unless  engrafted  upon  a  stock  of  knows 
and  reciprocal  merit. 

— Lord  Chesterfield,  1 694- 1 7  73. 

6.  ShorJd  be  formed  only  -with  the  good. 

(2123.)  Not  to  sin  the  sins  of  the  place  we  live  in, 
is  as  strange  as  for  pure  liquor  tunned  up  in  a  musty 
vessel  not  to  smell  of  the  cask.  Egypt  will  teach 
even  a  Joseph  to  swear  :  a  Peter  will  learn  to  curse 
in  the  high  priest's  hall.  A  good  example  hath  not 
so  much  power  to  make  us  good,  as  a  bad  one  hath 
to  make  us  evil.  One  man  sick  of  the  plague  will 
sooner  infect  ten  sound  ones  than  ten  sound  men 
can  cure  him.  The  flocks  feeding  among  the  bushes 
will  leave  some  of  their  wool  behind  them  :  it  is 
hard  to  live  in  the  forest  of  itnpiety  and  to  reserve 
integrity.  Sin  upon  earth  is  in  its  own  soil,  grows 
without  planting  or  any  pains  bestowed  on  it ) 
much  more  when  it  is  manured  with  applauses  and 
practice.  But  virtue  is  like  some  precious  seed 
fetched  from  Paradise,  which  will  hardly  grow  here 
without  special  care  and  indulgence.  It  is  not  safe 
venturing  among  the  wicked  in  confidence  of  our 
own  strength  ;  no  more  than  it  is  to  run  among 
thieves,  in  hope  that  they  will  not  rob  us.  How 
many  breathe  in  this  world  like  men  sleeping  in  a 
boat,  carried  down  the  stream  even  to  their  grave's 
end  without  waking  to  think  where  they  are  1 
Therefore,  if  we  may  be  our  own  disposers,  seek 
we  our  lot  among  the  righteous. 

— Adams,  1654. 

(2124.)  All  company  with  unbelievers  or  misbe- 
lievers is  not  condemned.  We  find  a  Lot  in  Sodom, 
Israel  with  the  Eg\ptians,  Abraham  and  Isaac  with 
their  Abimelechs  ;  roses  among  tiiorns,  and  pearls 
in  mud  ;  and  Jesus  Christ  among  publicans  and 
sinners.  So  neither  we  be  infected,  nor  the  name 
of  the  Lord  wronged,  to  converse  with  them,  that 
we  may  convert  them,  is  a  holy  course.  But  still 
we  must  be  among  them  as  strangers  :  to  pass 
through  an  infected  place  is  one  thing,  to  dwell  in 
it  another.  The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  men  are 
His  ;  wheresoever  God  shall  find  the  merchant,  let 
him  be  sure  to  find  God  in  every  place. 

— Adams,  l6S4, 

{2125.)  It  is  thy  interest  to  chrsose  only  the  godly 
for  thy  friends.  Others  will  one  time  or  other  prove 
false.  These  men  will  stick  closer  than  a  brother : 
Greet  them  that  love  us  in  the  faith  !  such  love  will 
be  firm.  Ungodly  men  may  be  about  us,  as  mice 
111  a  barn,  whilst  something  is  to  be  had  ;  but  when 
all  the  corn  is  gone,  they  are  gone  too  ;  if  thou 
ccasesi  to  give,  they  will  cease  to  love.  When  the 
weather  is  foul,  as  swallows,  though  they  chattered 
aBout  our  chimneys,  and  chattered  in  our  chambersi 


FRIENDSHIP. 


i    363    > 


FRIENDSHIP. 


they  will  take  their  flight,  and  leave  nothing  behind 
but  dirt  and  dung  as  the  pledge  of  their  friendship. 
Haman's  friends,  who  when  he  was  in  favour  were 
re.idy  to  kiss  his  feet,  no  sooner  saw  the  king 
incensed  against  him,  but  they  were  as  ready  to  cover 
his  face,  and  help  him  to  a  halter.  There  is  no 
faith  in  that  man  who  has  no  fear  of  the  great  God. 
— 'iivinnock,  1673. 

(2126.)  Hasten  out  of  evil  company,  if  thou  hast 
no  hopes  of  doing  good.  That  company  may  well 
be  to  thee  as  the  torrid  zone,  where  wickedness  sits 
in  the  chair,  and  religion  is  made  a  footstool. 
Though  thou  mayest  pass  through  such  a  climate 
as  thy  occasions  require,  yet  it  is  not  safe  to  dwell 
in  so  unwholesome  an  air  ;  men  that  are  forced  to 
walk  by  unsavoury  carcases,  hold  tiieir  breath,  and 
hasten  away  as  soon  as  they  can.  It  is  ill  being  an 
inhabitant  in  any  place  where  God  is  an  exile. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(2127.)  Birds  of  a  feather  will  flock  together. 
Servants  of  the  same  Lord,  if  faithful,  will  join  with 
their  fellows,  and  not  with  the  servants  of  His 
enemy. 

When  a  man  comes  to  an  inn,  you  may  give  a 
notable  guess  for  what  place  he  intemls  by  the 
company  he  inquires  after;  his  question,  —  "Do 
you  know  of  any  travelling  towards  London?  I 
should  be  heartily  glad  of  their  company," — will 
speak  his  mind  and  his  course.  If  be  hear  of  any 
bound  for  another  coast,  he  regards  them  not  ; 
but  if  he  know  of  any  honest  passengers  thiat  are 
to  ride  in  the  same  road,  and  set  out  lor  the  same 
city  with  himself,  he  sends  to  them,  and  begs  the 
favour  of  their  good  company.  This  world  is  an 
inn,  all  men  are  in  some  sense  pilgrims  and  stran- 
gers, they  have  no  abiding  place  here.  Now 
the  company  they  inquire  after,  and  delight  in, 
whether  those  that  walk  in  the  "broad  way"  of 
the  tlesh,  or  those  who  walk  in  the  "narrow  way" 
of  the  Spirit,  will  declare  whether  they  are  going 
towards  heaven,  or  towards  hell.  A  wicked  man 
will  not  desire  the  company  of  them  who  walk  in 
a  contrary  way,  nor  a  saint  delight  in  their  society 
who  go  cross  to  his  journey.  "  Can  two  walk 
together  except  they  be  agreed?" 

The  young  partridges  hatched  under  a  hen,  go 
for  a  time  along  with  her  chickens,  and  keep  them 
company,  scraping  in  the  earth  logether  ;  but  when 
they  are  grown  up,  and  their  wings  fit  for  the 
purpose,  they  mount  up  into  the  air,  and  seek  for 
birds  of  their  own  nature.  A  Christian,  before  his 
conversion,  is  brought  up  under  the  prince  of  dark- 
ness, and  walks  in  company  with  his  "cursed  crew," 
according  to  the  course  of  this  world  ;  but  when  the 
Spirit  changes  his  disposition,  he  quickly  changes 
his  companions,  and  delights  only  in  the  "saints 
that  are  on  earth."  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(2128.)  A  Christian  should  always  be  giving 
good  or  taking  good,  and  that  company  is  not  for 
him  that  will  neither  give  nor  take  this.  What 
should  a  merchant  do  where  there  is  no  buying  or 
belling?  — Gtiruall,  1607-1679. 

(2129.)  When  a  man  is  in  a  strange  country  a 
thousand  miles  off,  it  doth  him  good  to  meet  with 
his  own  countrymen,  and  talk  with  them  about  his 
friends,  and  fani'ly,  and  his  estate  and  inheritance, 
and  home  which  he  must  return  to ;  one  hour  of 
this  discourse  is  sweeter  to  him  than  a  hundred  with 


the  strangers  of  the  country  about  matters  that  are 
little  to  him  :  so  is  it  here ;  a  Christian  that  knoweth 
he  is  a  stranger  in  this  world,  and  that  his  God, 
his  salvation,  his  home,  his  mlieritanceaie  all  in  the 
world  to  come  ;  he  had  far  rather  discourse  with  a 
heavenly-minded  man  about  his  Father  and  ever- 
lasting works  and  blessedness,  than  with  worldly 
men  about  this  world.  — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(2130.)  We  insensibly  slide  into  the  manners  of 
those  with  whom  we  daily  converse  and  constantly 
live  :  we  catch  the  flame  of  virtue  from  them,  by 
being  always  near  them.  For  goodness  does  not 
only  communicate  favouis  and  kindness  ;  it  even  in 
some  measure  communicates  itself.  Just  as  those 
who  have  been  long  among  the  most  fragrant  ob- 
jects not  only  are  delighted  with  the  odour  that 
breathes  from  them,  some  of  the  very  fragrancy 
cleaves  to  and  remains  with  them ;  they  become 
fragrant  themselves  by  staying  long  among  objects 
that  are  so.  — Seea,  1747. 

7.  Profltlessness  of  friendship  with  the  ungodly. 

(2 1 31.)  Such  friends  as  are  tied  unto  us  in  mere 
worldly  bonds  are  not  to  be  esteemed,  for  when  the 
bonds  are  broken  the  friends  are  scattered  :  like 
chaff  or  some  such  light  matter,  which  lies  with  the 
good  wheat  in  the  sunshine  and  calm,  but  separates 
itself  and  flies  away  when  the  least  blast  of  wind 
blows  ;  or  like  unto  the  reed  which  stands  upright  and 
seems  stiff  and  strong  in  fair  weather,  but  bows  and 
bends  any  way  when  the  storm  comes.  So  these 
worldly  friends,  whilst  the  sun  of  prosperity  shines, 
adhere  to  us  and  seem  firm  and  constant,  as  though 
they  would  never  leave  us ;  but  when  the  least 
tempest  of  trouble  comes,  and  when  the  world 
seems  to  frown,  they  either  hang  down  the  head, 
and  will  not  see  us,  or  frame  idle  excuses  why  they 
caimot  help  us.  Or,  like  Job's  comforters,  they 
make  poverty  a  crime,  and  argue  and  infer  our 
faultiness,  because  we  are  fallen  into  affliction. 
And  therefore  let  us  not  make  choice  of  such 
friends  if  we  have  them  not,  nor  trust  unto  them  if 
we  have  them.  For  like  the  reed  they  will  bow 
and  flee  from  us,  when  being  almost  drowned  in 
misery,  we  labour  to  catch  hold  of  them, — or  else 
breaking  in  our  hands  will  wound  us  when  we  rely 
upon  them.  Or  like  the  briar,  they  will  fleece  us 
of  our  wool  when  we  flee  to  them  for  succour.  Or 
like  an  old  ruinous  house,  when  we  come  to  them 
for  protection  against  the  storm,  they  will  fall  upon 
us  and  beat  us  to  the  ground  with  their  oppressions. 
—  Downame,  1642. 

(2132.)  Worldly  friends  are  like  hot  water, 
that  when  cold  weather  comes,  is  soon  frozen. 
Like  cuckoos,  all  summer  they  will  sing  a  scurvy 
note  to  thee,  but  they  are  gone  in  July  at  furthest: 
sure  enough  before  the  fall.  They  flatter  a  rich 
man,  as  we  feed  beasts,  till  he  be  fat,  and  then  feed 
on  him.  —Adams,  1654. 

(2133.)  The  leaves  drop  from  the  trees  in  the 
beginning  of  autumn  ;  such  is  the  friendship  of  this 
world  :  whilst  the  sap  of  wealth  and  honour  lasts 
with  me,  and  whilst  1  enjoy  a  summer  of  prosperity 
my  friends  swarm  in  abundance  ;  but  in  the  winter 
of  adversity  they  will  leave  me  naked.  Oh,  how 
miserable  is  that  person  who  has  no  friend  but  of 
this  world.  —  Swinnock,  16-]%. 


FRIENDSHIP. 


(     364     ) 


FRIENDSHIP 


(2134.)  The  heat  and  light  of  a  wicked  man's 
love,  as  a  lamp,  is  fed  with  and  flows  from  some 
earthly  substance,  and  is  extinguished  when  that  is 
denied  ;  but  the  heat  and  light  of  a  saint's  friend- 
ship, as  the  solar  rays,  spring  from  a  heavenly  cause, 
and  therefore  will  continue. 

My  ungodly  companion  may  abound  in  frothy 
words,  but  1  must  expect  no  faithful  deeds  from 
him,  if  ever  I  come  to  sufferings.  Like  a  drum  in  a 
battle,  he  may  make  a  grand  sound,  but  will  act 
nothing  for  my  succour.  Like  a  cipher,  though 
now  in  prosperity  he  stands  for  thousands,  in  any 
adversity  he  will  stand  for  nothing. 

— Muinnock,  1673. 

(2135.)  If  I  converse  with  great  or  rich  men, 
what  disdainful  looks  do  they  give  me  !  at  wliat  a 
distance  do  they  behold  me  !  It  is  hard  to  obtain 
the  liberty  of  speaking  to  them  ;  but  if  1  would 
obtain  their  favour,  it  will  cost  me  more  than  it  did 
the  chief  captain  for  his  Roman  freedom  ;  unless  I 
can  gratify  their  lusts,  I  mus;  not  expect  their  love. 
Their  friendship  can  hardly  be  got  without  a  breac'n 
with  my  God  ;  and  what  wise  man  would  lose  the 
good  will  of  the  Lord  for  the  gain  of  the  whole 
world  ?  When  I  have  by  many  friends,  and  with 
much  difficulty,  and  even  danger  to  my  soul,  pro- 
cured tlieir  favour,  how  little  am  I  the  better  for  it  1 
The  most  rotten  tree  is  not  so  hollow  ;  for,  as  cun- 
ning wrestlers,  they  will  get  within  me  to  give  me 
a  fall.  The  wind  itself  is  not  more  wavering  than 
they  are  ;  except  I  can  be  contented  to  be  their  foot- 
stool, that  by  their  treading  upon  me,  they  may  be 
lifted  higher  in  the  world,  1  must  expect  to  be  quite 
cast  by.  It  is  possible,  whilst  they  may  make  some 
use  of  me  to  decoy  and  trepan  others,  or  to  raise 
and  advance  themselves,  they  may  carry  me  upon 
their  shoulders,  as  men  do  their  ladders,  when  there 
is  hope  thereby  of  climbing  to  their  desired  heights  ; 
but  when  that  is  done,  or  if  the  ladder  prove  too 
short,  they  will  throw  it  upon  the  ground  ! 

— Swill  nock,  1673. 

(2136.)  Friendship  contracted  with  the  wicked 
decreases  from  hour  to  hour,  like  the  early  shadow 
of  the  morning  ;  but  friendship  with  the  virtuous 
will  increase  like  the  shadow  ot  the  evening,  till  the 
sun  of  life  shall  set.  — Herder. 

(2137.)  Such  amities,  being  but  transitory,  melt 
away  like  snow  in  the  sun.  — isales. 

8.  Perilousness  of  friendship  with  the  ungodly. 

(2138.)  As  some  little  creatures  do  bite  us,  and 
we  scarcely  feel  it,  but  afterwards  we  shall  well 
perceive  that  they  have  bitten  us ;  so,  though  we 
perceive  not  the  hurt  that  cometh  by  ill  company  at 
the  first,  yet  we  shall  find  it  afterwards. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

(2139.)  Let  not  any  so  much  presume  upon  their 
own  strength,  as  to  imagine  that  they  can  retain 
their  sincerity,  though  they  keep  wicked  company, 
and  rather  convert  them  to  good,  than  be  perverted 
by  them  to  evil,  seeing  this  is  a  matter  of  great 
difficulty.  "To  be  good  among  the  good,"  says 
Bernard,  "has  in  it  health  and  safety  ;  among  the 
wicked  to  be  so,  is  also  commendable  and  praise- 
worthy ;  in  that,  happiness  is  joined  with  much 
security  ;  in  this,  much  virtue  with  difficulty."  For 
at6  he  who  is  running  down  the  hill  can  sooner  pull 


with  him  one  that  is  ascending,  than  he  who  ia 
going  up  can  cause  him  to  ascend  that  is  running 
down  :  so  he  who  holds  an  headlong  course  in 
wickedness  can  more  easily  carry  with  him  one  that 
is  ascending  the  hill  of  virtue,  being  a  motion  con- 
trary to  natural  disposition,  than  he  can  cause  him 
to  ascend  with  him.  For  in  common  experience 
we  see,  that  the  worser  state  prevails  more  in  alter- 
ing the  better  to  its  condition,  than  the  better  to 
make  the  worse  like  itself  The  infected  are  not 
so  soon  cured  by  the  sound,  as  they  are  tainted  with 
their  contagion.  Rotten  apples  lying  with  the 
sound  are  not  restored  to  soundness,  but  the  sound 
are  corrupted  with  their  rottenness.  Dead  carcases 
united  to  living  bodies  are  not  thereby  revived, 
unless  it  be  by  miracle,  as  we  see  in  Elijah  and 
Peter;  but  the  living,  if  they  continue  any  time 
united  to  the  dead,  partake  with  them  in  their 
mortality  and  corruption.  And  thus  it  is  in  our 
spiritual  state,  wherein  the  worse  more  prevails  to 
corrupt  the  better,  than  the  better  to  reform  the 
worse.  — Downame,  1644. 

(2140.)  "That  friendship,"  says  Basil,  "is  very 
harmful  which  is  contracted  with  maliciousness. 
For  it  is  the  law  and  condition  of  this  friendship, 
by  a  similitude  of  nature,  to  infuse  wickedness  into 
those  who  are  in  amity  with  them.  For  as  ia 
pestilent  places,  the  air  stealingly,  and  by  little  and 
little,  infects  the  whole  body  with  a  hidden  disease  ; 
so  through  wicked  acquaintance,  we  suck  in  mani- 
fold evils,  although  we  do  not  presently  perceive  the 
discommodity  of  it."  In  which  re.'^pect  we  are  to 
contemn,  yea,  to  hate  this  friendship  of  wicked 
worldlings,  as  being  but  like  sugar  which  entices  us 
to  drink  the  poison  of  sin  ;  and  the  devils  most 
prevailing  orator,  in  persuading  us  to  neglect  all 
duty,  and  to  set  our  hearts  open  for  the  entertain- 
ing of  sin.  Manifold  evils  come  unto  us  through 
the  familiar  society  of  wicked  worldlings. 

Against  which,  if  any  shall  object  their  own 
experience,  namely,  that  they  have  Irequenied  such 
company  and  entertained  such  love  and  amity,  and 
yet  feel  themselves  never  the  worse,  to  such  I 
answer,  that  either  they  are  so  bad  already,  that 
they  cannot  be  made  much  worse  ;  or  have  but  a 
little  while  been  linked  in  this  fellowship,  and  so  the 
poison  has  not  as  yet  its  operation  ;  or  if  longer  time 
they  have  consorted  with  them  and  feel  no  ill,  it  is 
because  wickedness  has  grown  on  them  l)y  degrees, 
and  has  therefore  through  their  negligence  been 
insensible,  they  having  rather  declined  by  little 
and  little,  than  suddenly  fallen  into  these  misciiiefs. 
But  let  not  this  encourage  them  in  their  course. 
Great  floods  do  not  suddenly  rise,  but  after  much 
dropping  ;  metals  are  not  presently  melted  as  soon 
as  they  are  put  into  the  furnace  ;  green  wood  does 
not  forthwith  flame  out  as  soon  ns  it  is  laid  on  fhe 
fire  ;  but  yet  within  a  while  with  much  and  often 
raining  the  water  arises,  with  great  and  continual 
heat  the  metals  melt,  and  the  green  wood  after 
some  weak  resistance  is  consumed.  And  so,  although 
the  fire  of  God's  grace  is  not  quenched  at  first  with 
this  water  of  worldly  wickedness,  yea,  rather,  perhaps 
it  may  through  opposition  make  it  to  gather  strength 
and  burn  more  hotly ;  but  yet  if  it  be  much  and 
often  cast  upon  it,  it  will  in  the  end  put  it  out. 
"Although,"  says  Isodurus,  "thou  wert  made  of 
iron,  yet  standing  continually  before  a  great  fire, 
thou  wonldst  at  last  be  dissolved  ;  and  he  that  =till 
awelleta  at  the  next  door  to  danger  cannot  long 


FRIENDSHIP. 


(    363     ) 


FRIENDSHIP 


be  safe."  ....  As  therefore  those  diseases  which 
grow  upon  us  by  degrees  upon  small  and  not  appa- 
rent causes  are  of  ail  others  the  most  dangerous  and 
incurable,  so  these  spiritual  diseases  of  the  soul 
which  steal  upon  us  little  by  little  are  not  easily 
cured,  and  most  endanger  us,  because  they  are 
not  discerned  until  custom  has  given  them  full 
possession,  and  as  it  were  turned  them  into  nature. 
And  as  men  are  no  less  fearful  of  a  lingering 
consumption  than  of  a  hot  burning  ague,  because 
it  doth  more  certainly  destroy  us,  though  it  doth 
not  assault  us  with  like  violence  ;  so  that  corruption, 
which  stealingly  infects  us  through  the  familiarity 
and  near  friendship  which  we  have  with  a  civil 
worldling,  doth  oftentimes  more  endanger  V-  than 
all  the  violent  provocation  of  men  notoriously 
wicked,  whereby  they  labour  suddenly  and  all  at 
once  to  plunge  us  headlong  into  wickedness. 

— Duwname,  1644. 

(2141.)  There  is  a  generation  of  men  that  lavish 
their  estates,  as  we  say,  fling  the  house  out  at  the 
windows,  that  call  themselves  good  fellows.  But 
good  fellows  and  evil  men  are  incompatible.  They 
arc  like  Simon  and  Levi,  sworn  brothers,  but 
brethren  in  evil.  Perhaps  they  have  more  society 
than  honest  men,  but  not  so  good  society.  Briars 
and  thorns  twine  more  together  than  good  plants. 
God  is  not  in  this  fellowship  ;  you  shall  meet  Him 
at  the  church,  not  at  the  ale-house.  But  Satan  puts 
in  for  a  part  :  sometimes  one  drunkard  plays  the 
devil  with  another,  in  stabbing  or  overloading  with 
drink  ;  but  if  there  be  not  always  a  personate  devil, 
there  is  always  a  personal  devil ;  Satan  himself 
stands  by.  In  this  fellowship,  riot  is  the  host, 
drunkenness  the  guest,  swearing  keeps  the  reckon- 
ing, lust  holds  the  door,  and  beggary  pays  the  ^hot. 

— Adams,  1654. 

(2142.)  It  is  opportunity  that  makes  thieves. 
Look  what  a  clear  mintain  is  to  the  thirsty,  what 
a  shade  to  the  scorched  traveller  ;  such  is  occasion 
to  a  man  that  is  accustomed  to  do  evil.  Physicians 
may  converse  with  sick  men,  and  cure  them  ;  but 
if  their  disease  be  dangerous  or  contagious,  they 
will  not  easily  adventure  on  them,  lest  that  in  cur- 
ing others  they  should  kill  themselves.  Vices  are 
of  the  same  nature,  and  vicious  persons  and  places 
are  alike  dangerous,  and  therefore  to  be  s)iunned. 
— Speficer,  1658. 

{2143.)  In  infected  places  we  get  a  disease, 
though  we  feel  it  not  presently ;  so  secretly  our 
hearts  are  tainted  by  examples ;  as  a  man  that 
walks  in  the  sun,  unawares,  before  he  thinks  of  it, 
his  countenance  is  tanned. 

— Manton,  1620-1667. 

(2144.)  Familiarity  with  the  ungodly  will  be  a 
blemish  and  scandal  upon  your  good  name.  Every 
oian's  company  declares  what  he  is.  Birds  of  a  sort 
flock  together.  So  that  if  ihey  wrong  not  the  con- 
icieace  they  wound  the  reputafion. 

— Matilon,  1620-1667. 

(2145.)  Man,  being  a  sociable  creature,  is 
mightUy  encouraged  to  do  as  others  do,  especially 
in  an  evil  example ;  for  we  are  more  susceptible  of 
evil  than  we  are  of  good.  Sickness  is  sooner  com- 
municated than  health  ;  we  easily  catch  a  disease  off 
one  another,  but  those  that  are  sound  do  not  com- 
tiuuicate  heaJib  to  the  diseased.     Or  rather,  to  take 


God's  own  expression  that  sets  it  forth  thus, — by 
touching  the  unclean  the  man  became  unclean  under 
the  law,  but  by  touching  the  clean  the  man  was  not 
purified.  The  conversation  of  the  wicked  has  more 
power  to  corrupt  the  good,  than  the  conversation  0/ 
the  virtuous  and  holy  to  correct  the  lewd. 

— Ji/anto.n,  1620- 1667. 

(2146.)  If  thou  choosest  the  ungodly  for  thy 
friends,  thou  art  in  danger  of  suffering,  as  well  as  of 
sinning  with  them.  The  wheat  has  many  a  blow 
for  being  among  the  chaff.  The  gold  would  not  be 
put  into  the  fire  if  it  were  not  for  the  dress  with 
which  it  is  mingled. 

It  is  ill  being  in  a  fellow's  company  when  the 
officer  of  justice  overtakes  him.  He  may  come  to 
suher  for  the  treason,  who  harbours  and  abet§  the 
traitor. 

He  that  would  not  be  found  amongst  sinners  in 
the  other  world,  must  take  heed  that  he  do  not  fre- 
quent their  company  in  this.  Those  whom  the 
constable  finds  wandering  with  vagrants,  may  be 
sent  with  them  to  the  House  of  Correction. 

O  Lord,  guard  Thy  servant  so  powerfully  by  Thy 
grace,  that  I  may  avoid  all  appearance  of  evil.  As 
1  would  avoid  Thy  batteries,  let  me  avoid  the  camp 
of  Thine  enemies.  — HwinnoLk,  1673. 

(2147.)  Flee  unholy  company,  as  baneful  to  the 
power  of  godliness.  Be  but  as  careful  for  thy  soul, 
as  thou  wouldst  for  thy  body.  Uurst  thou  drink  in 
the  same  cup,  or  sit  in  the  same  chair,  with  one  that 
hath  an  infectious  disease  ?  And  is  it  not  sin  as 
catching  a  disease  as  the  plague  itself? 

—  Curnall,  1617-1679. 

(2148.)  As  that  honey  is  best  which  is  gather- 
ed from  the  bosom  of  the  most  exquisite  flowers, 
so  that  love  which  is  founded  upon  the  most  exqui- 
site communication  is  the  most  excellent.  And  as 
there  is  honey  in  Heraclca  of  I'ontus,  which  is 
poisonous  and  makes  those  mad  that  eat  it,  because 
it  is  gathered  from  the  aconite,  which  abounds  in 
that  country  ;  even  so  the  friendship  grounded  upon 
the  communication  of  false  and  vicious  goods,  is 
altogether  false  and  vicious.  — .iizA'^f. 

9.  By  the  choice  of  our  friends,  we  reveal  out 
own  character. 

(2149.)  Vou  may  depend  upon  it  that  he  is  a 
good  man  whose  intimate  friends  are  all  good,  and 
whose  enemies  are  characters  decidedly  bad. 

— Lavater,  1741-1S0I. 

10.  Youthful  friendships, 

(2150.)  For  my  own  part,  I  found  such  friend- 
ships, though  warm  enough  in  their  commencement, 
surprisingly  liable  to  extinction  ;  and  of  seven  or 
eight  whom  I  had  selected  for  intimates  out  of  about 
tliree  hundred,  in  ten  years'  time  not  one  was  left 
me.  The  truth  is  that  there  may  be,  and  often  is, 
an  attachment  of  one  boy  to  another  that  looks  very 
like  friendship,  and,  while  they  are  in  circumstances 
that  enable  them  mutually  to  oblige  and  assist  each 
other,  promises  well  and  bids  fair  to  be  lasting ; 
but  they  are  no  sooner  separated  from  each  othei, 
by  entering  into  the  world  at  large,  than  other  con- 
nections and  new  employments,  in  which  they  no 
longer  share  together,  efface  the  remembrance  of 
what  passed  in  earlier  days,  and  they  become 
strangers  to  each  other  for  ever.  Add  to  this,,  th^ 
man  frequently  differs  so  much  from  the  boy — hit 


FRIENDSHIP. 


(    z(y^   ) 


FRIENDSHIP, 


principles,  manners,  temper,  and  conduct  undergo 
so  greac  an  alteration — that  we  no  longer  recog- 
nize in  him  our  old  playfellow,  but  find  him  utterly 
unworthy  and  unfit  for  the  place  he  once  held  in  our 
affections.  — Cowper,  1731-1800. 

11.  Is  rarely  formed  late  in  life. 

(21 51.)  It  may  be  worth  noticing  as  a  curious 
circumstance,  when  persons  past  forty,  before  they 
were  at  all  acquainted,  form  together  a  very  close 
intimacy  of  friendship.  For  grafts  of  old  wood  to 
take,  there  must  be  a  wonderful  congeniality  between 
the  trees.  — I'VAaiely,  1 787-1863. 

12.  Tested  by  adversity, 

(2152.)  Whilst  you  are  prosperous,  you  can 
number  many  friends ;  but  when  the  storm  comes, 
you  are  left  alone.  — Ovid. 

(2153.)  True  friends  visit  us  in  prosperity  only 
when  invited,  but  in  adversity  they  come  without 
invitation.  — Theophrastus, 

(2154 1  AfTliction,  like  the  wind  or  fan,  severs  the 
chaff  of  flattery  from  the  solid  grain  of  faithful  friend- 
ship ;  making  parasites  to  flee  from  us,  as  smoke 
drives  away  bees,  when  they  can  raise  from  us  no 
further  advantage.  And,  as  the  only  true  touch- 
stone, it  discerns  a  lover  of  a  man's  self  from  him 
who  is  a  lover  of  us  ;  for,  according  to  the  proverb, 
"  He  who  is  a  friend  in  need  is  a  friend  indeed," 
and  evidently  shows  that  our  person,  and  not  our 
prosperity,  was  the  object  of  his  love.  In  this  re- 
spect, our  afflictions  are  profitable,  as  they  pluck 
from  us  false-hearted  parasites,  who,  like  the  ivy, 
cling  about  us,  to  suck  our  sap,  and  to  make  them- 
selves fat  with  our  spoil  ;  and  to  discover  to  us  our 
true  friends,  who  are  hardly  discerned  from  the  other 
till  this  time  of  trial  ;  for,  as  the  son  of  Sirach  says, 
'*  A  friend  cannot  be  known  in  prosperity,  and  an 
enemy  cannot  be  hidden  in  adversity." 

— Dawname,  1644, 

(2155.)  As  it  is  with  the  deer  that  is  hunted,  when 
the  huntsman  goes  into  the  park,  he  rouses  the  whole 
herd,  and  they  all  run  together;  but,  if  one  be  shot, 
and  they  see  the  blood  run  down,  they  will  soon 
push  him  out  of  their  company.  Or  as  a  man,  being 
in  his  travel  upon  the  road,  and  there  being  a  sun- 
dial set  up  in  the  way,  if  the  sun  shine,  he  will  step 
out  of  his  way  to  take  notice  of  it,  but  if  the  sun  do 
not  shine,  he  will  go  by  a  hundred  times  and  never 
regard  it.  So,  let  but  the  sun  of  prosperity  shine 
upon  a  man,  then  who  but  he  ? — he  shall  have  friends 
more  than  a  good  many  ;  but  if  a  cloudy  day  come, 
he  may  easily  number  his  acquaintance.  When  a 
man  goes  on  in  the  credit  of  the  world,  he  shall  be 
welcome  into  all  companies  ;  but  if  he  come  once 
to  be  shot,  and  disgrace  put  upon  him,  then  he  shall 
soon  perceive  a  cloud  in  every  man's  face,  no  one  so 
much  as  regarding  him. 

— Burroughs,  1 599-1 646. 

(2156.)  What  is  sweeter  than  a  well-tuned  lute, 
and  what  more  delightful  than  a  friend — one  who 
can  cheer  us  in  sorrow  with  his  wise  and  affectionate 
discourse  !  Nothing,  however,  is  sooner  untuned 
than  a  lute  ;  and  nothing  is  more  fickle  than  human 
friendship.  The  tone  of  one  changes  with  the 
weather,  that  of  the  other  with  fortune.  With  a 
dear  sky,  a  bright  sun,  and  a  gentle  breeze,  you 
w.-iU  have  friends  in  plenty  ;  but  let  fortune  frown, 


and  the  firmament  be  overcast,  and  then  yoiu'  friends 
will  prove  like  the  strings  of  the  lute,  of  which  you 
will  tighten  ten  before  you  will  find  one  that  will 
bear  the  stretch  and  keep  the  pitch, 

— ^c river,  1 629-1 693. 

(2157.)  Oh,  but  a  man  is  well  off  for  friends 
while  things  flourish  with  him  !  The  great  world 
is  always  ready  with  its  friendly  ministry  for  what- 
ever he  may  need.  But  sure  as  David,  who  harped 
in  the  palace  of  Saul,  and  had  Saul's  daughter  to 
wife,  had  to  take  the  wilderness  of  Sin  for  liis 
refuge,  and  the  rock  of  Machpelah  for  his  habita- 
tion, when  the  countenance  of  Saul  turned  against 
him,  so  surely  shall  the  man  whom  prosperity  hath 
exalted  have  to  shift  for  himself,  forlorn  and  aban- 
doned, when  adversity  setteth  in  upon  him.  And 
his  talents  shall  now  be  discovered  to  have  been 
nought,  and  his  accomplishments  to  have  been 
nought,  and  his  services  to  have  been  nought.  All 
the  cords  which  lifted  him  on  high  and  held  him  in 
his  place,  shall  untwist  rapidly,  and  he  shall  find  him- 
self solitary  and  unbefriended  of  all  that  fashionable 
crew  who  heretofore  delighted  to  do  him  honour. 
Therefore,  let  every  man  rising  in  tlie  world's  favour 
look  to  his  ways,  and  deal  faithfully  by  his  former 
friends  and  associates,  and  most  faithfully  by  his 
God,  that  he  may  have  a  hiding-place  and  a  secure 
refuge  when  the  time  of  his  trial  and  the  days  of  his 
darkness  come,  — Irving. 

(2158.)  "Who  is  a  friend  like  me?"  said  the 
shadow  to  the  body.  "Do  I  not  follow  you 
wherever  you  go?  Sunlight  or  moonlight  I  never 
forsake  you." 

"It  is  true,"  said  the  body;  "you  are  with  me 
in  sunlight  and  moonlight,  but  where  are  you  when 
neither  sun  nor  moon  shines  upon  me?  The  true 
friend  abides  with  us  in  darkness," 

(2159.)  Sentiments  of  friendship  which  flow  from 
the  heart  cannot  be  frozen  in  adversity, 

13.  Its  surest  proof  Is  also  its  severest  test. 
(2160.)  Thou  mayest  be  sure  that  he  that  will  in 

private  tell  thee  of  thy  faults  is  thy  fiientl,  for  he 
adventures  thy  dislike,  and  doth  hazard  thy  haired  ; 
for  there  are  few  men  that  can  endure  it  ;  every 
man  for  the  most  part  delighting  in  sell-praise, 
which  is  one  of  the  most  universal  follies  that  be- 
witcheth  mankind. 

— Sir  W.  Raleigh,  1 552-1 618. 

(21 61.)  The  noblest  part  of  a  friend  is  an  honest 
boldness  in  the  notifying  of  errors.  He  that  tells 
me  of  a  fault,  aiming  at  my  good,  I  must  think  him 
wise  and  faithful  :  wise,  m  spying  that  which  I  see 
not  ;  faithful  in  a  plain  admonishment,  not  tainted 
wiith  flatteiy.  — Felltham,  1678, 

(2162.)  It  is  one  of  the  severest  tests  of  friendship 
to  tell  your  friend  of  his  faults.  If  you  are  angry 
with  a  man,  or  hate  him,  it  is  not  hard  to  gc  to  him 
and  stab  him  with  words  ;  but  so  to  love  a  man 
that  you  cannot  bear  to  see  the  stain  of  sin  upon 
him,  and  to  speak  painful  truth  through  loving 
words, — that  is  friendship.  But  few  have  such 
friends.  Our  enemies  usually  teach  us  what  we  are 
at  the  point  of  the  sword.  — Beecher. 

14.  Is  easily  destroyed. 

(2163.)    Life   is   full   of  paradoxes.     There    ire 


FRIENDSHIP. 


(    367     ) 


FUTURE  REWARDS 


some  slight  causes  which  will  destroy  the  strongest 
friendship.  Great  causes  will  not  always  impair  it. 
A  sarcastic  and  disparaging  speech  made  by  a  friend 
concerning  his  friend  in  his  absence,  and  repeated 
by  some  miscliief-maker,  will  invariably  disturb 
friendship  ;  while  an  angry  altercation,  or  some 
injury  to  person  or  to  property,  will  often  leave 
friendship  unharmed. 

When  alienation  begins,  it  increases  at  a  verj' 
rapid  rate.  The  rust-spot  multiplies  apace.  The 
mildew  spreads  quickly.  The  rift  in  the  lute  be- 
comes longer  and  longer.  — S.  Martin. 

16.  The  difficulty  of  repairing  Its  breaches. 

(2164.)  A  rupture  in  the  friendship  of  sensitive 
and  refined  nature  is  generally  serious  in  its  con- 
sequences. Coarse  stcmes,  when  fractured,  may  be 
cemented  again  ;  precious  ones  less  easily. 

—E.  Cook. 

16.  How  It  Is  to  be  maintained. 

(2165.)  There  is  not  anything  eats  out  friendship 
sooner  than  concealed  grudges.  If  between  my 
friend  and  myself  a  private  thought  of  unkindness 
arise,  I  will  presently  tell  it,  and  be  reconciled  : 
if  he  be  clear,  I  shall  like  him  the  better  when  I 
see  his  integrity  ;  if  faulty,  confession  gains  my 
pardon,  and  binds  me  to  love  him  ;  and  though  we 
should  in  the  discussion  jar  a  little,  yet  I  will  be 
sure  to  part  friendly.  Fire  almost  quenched,  and 
laid  abroad,  dies  presently  ;  put  together,  it  will 
burn  the  better.  Every  such  breach  as  this  will 
unite  affection  faster  :  a  little  shaking  prefers  the 
growth  of  the  tree.  — Felltham,  1668. 

(2166.)  He  that  doth  a  base  thing  in  zeal  for  his 
friend,  burns  the  golden  thread  that  ties  iheir  hearts 
together.  — Jeremy  Taylor^  1612-1667. 

(2167.)  It  is  a  noble  and  great  thing  to  cover  the 
blemishes  and  to  excuse  the  failings  of  a  friend  ; 
to  draw  a  curtain  before  his  stains,  and  to  dis- 
play his  perfections ;  to  bury  his  weaknesses  in 
silence,  but  to  proclaim  his  virtues  upon  the  house- 
top. — SonUi,  1663-17 16. 

(2168.)  Those,  though  in  highest  place,  who 
slight  and  disoblige  their  friends,  shall  infallibly 
come  to  know  the  value  of  them,  by  having  none 
when  they  shall  most  need  them. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

(2169.)  It  is  decreed  by  Providence  that  nothing 
truly  valuable  shall  be  obtained  in  our  present  state 
but  with  difficulty  and  danger.  He  that  hopes  for 
that  advantage  which  is  to  be  gained  from  unre- 
strained communication  must  sometimes  hazard, 
by  unpleasing  truths,  that  friendship  which  he 
aspires  to  merit.  The  chief  rule  to  be  observed 
in  the  exercise  of  this  dangerous  office,  is  to  preserve 
it  pure  from  all  mixture  of  interest  or  vanity  ;  to  for- 
bear admonition  of  reproof  when  our  consciences 
tell  us  that  tliey  are  incited,  not  by  the  hopes  of 
reforming  faults,  but  the  desire  of  showing  our 
discernment,  or  gratifying  our  own  pride  by  the 
tnortification  of  another. 

— Dr.  S.  Johnson,  1709-1784. 

17.  The  best  friend. 

(2170.)  When  I  se«.  leaves  drop  from  their  trees 
j'n  the  beginning  of  autumn,  just  such,  think  I,  is 
'he    fnendship    of  the    world  ;    just    such    are   thi 


comforts  and  joys  of  this  life.  While  the  sap  of 
maintenance  lasts,  my  friends  will  swarm  in  abund- 
ance, my  joys  and  comforts  will  abide  with  me  ; 
but  when  the  sap  ceases,  the  spring  which  supplies 
them  fails  ;  in  the  winter  of  my  need  they  leave  ms 
naked.  And  those  few  leaves  which  I  see  falling,  re- 
mind me  of  the  coming  winds,  and  rains,  when  those 
trees  shall  be  wholly  stripped  of  their  leaves  ;  and 
of  that  season,  that  evil  day,  when  all  that  admini- 
sters to  the  gaiety  and  comfort  of  life  shall  fall  from 
under  me.  Mappy  he  who  has  that  "  Friend 
which,"  saith  the  Scriptures,  "sticketh  closer  than 
a  brother,"  and  that  peace,  and  those  pleasures, 
which  are  at  God's  right  hand,  and  which  shall 
never  fade  away.  — Salter,  1840. 

18.  Is  not  Umited  to  this  life. 

(2 1 7 1.)  The  friendship  of  high  and  sanctified 
spirits  loses  nothing  by  death  but  its  alloy  ;  failings 
disappear,  and  the  virtues  of  those  whose  "faces 
we  shall  behold  no  more  "  appear  greater  and  more 
sacred  when  beheld  through  the  shades  of  the 
sepulchre.  — Kobirt  Hall,  1 764-1831, 

(2172.)  I  am  convinced  that  the  extension  and 
perfection  of  friendship  will  constitute  great  part  of 
the  future  happiness  of  the  blest.  Many  have  lived 
in  various  and  distant  ages  and  countries,  perfectly 
adapted  (I  mean  not  merely  in  their  being  generally 
estimable,  but  in  the  agreement  of  their  tastes,  and 
suitableness  of  their  dispositions)  for  friendship  with 
each  other,  but  who,  of  course,  could  never  meet  in 
this  \vorl<l.  ...  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  such  a 
wish  absurd  and  presumptuous,  or  unlikely  to  be 
gratified.  — VVhaiely,  1781-1863. 


FUTURE  REWARDS  AND  PUNISHMENTS. 

I.  REASONABLENESS  OF  BELIEF  IN  THEIR 
REALITY. 

{2173.)  As  sure  as  there  is  an  earth  for  thee  to 
tread  upon,  and  as  sure  as  there  is  a  sun  whose  light 
thou  seest  ;  so  sure  is  there  a  heavenly  everlasting 
glory  for  every  converted,  persevering  soul.  There 
can  be  no  better  ground  of  assurance  than  the  Word 
of  God.  I  know  that  man,  whilst  he  is  in  this  flesh, 
is  strange  to  things  beyond  his  sense,  and  hath  a 
natural  desire  to  have  his  senses  themselves  to  be 
the  inlets  of  his  knowledge ;  and  therefore  he  is  apt  to 
think  that  either  he  is  uncertain  of  all  that  he  seeth 
not  (unless  he  hath  seen  the  like  that  may  help  him  to 
understand  it),  or  else  that  his  knowledge  of  it  is  as 
no  knowledge  ;  but  this  is  a  weakness  unworthy  of 
a  man.  What  if  you  had  never  seen  London,  or 
any  such  city,  and  should  hear  the  glory  of  it 
described  by  others  ;  would  you  think  it  uncertain 
that  there  is  such  a  place,  because  you  have  not 
seen  it  ?  Nay,  further,  you  have  not  seen  your 
souls,  do  you  think  it  therefore  uncertain  whether 
you  have  a  soul  or  no  ?  A  man  that  is  born  blind  did 
never  see  the  sun,  and  yet  he  will  no*,  doubt  whether 
there  be  a  sun,  when  all  the  world  about  him  telleih 
him  so  :  and  shall  not  the  Word  of  God  be  taken 
as  soon  as  the  word  of  a  man  ?  You  never  saw 
God  Himself,  and  yet  it  is  the  grossest  error  in  the 
world  to  think  that  there  is  no  God  when  we  see 
every  day  the  works  that  He  hath  made  ;  and  which 
we  know  could  none  of  them  make  themselves  ; 
you  see  that  which  assureth  you  of  the  things  that 
are  unseen.  You  see  the  Word  of  God  ;  you  see 
His  works  and  daily  providences ;  you  see  a  Divine 


FUTURE  REWARDS 


(    368    ) 


AND  PUNISHMENTS. 


testimony,  the  sufficient  ground  of  your  belief. 
Nouh  did  not  see  the  flood  when  he  laboured  so 
many  years  in  making  the  ark.  But  though  the 
unbelieving  world  might  deride  him  in  the  beginn- 
ing, at  the  last  the  flood  came  and  did  convince 
them.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2174.)  We  have  abundantly  more  assurance  of 
the  recompense  of  another  world  than  we  have  of 
many  things  of  this  world,  which  yet  have  a  greater 
influence  upon  our  actions,  and  govern  the  lives  of 
the  most  prudent  and  considerate  men.  Men 
generally  hazard  their  lives  and  estates  upon 
terms  of  greater  uncertainty  than  the  assurance 
which  we  have  of  another  world.  Men  venture  to 
take  physic  upon  probable  grounds  of  the  integrity 
and  skill  of  their  physician,  and  yet  the  want  of 
either  of  these  may  hazard  their  lives  :  and  men  take 
physic  upon  greater  odds  ;  for  it  certainly  causeth 
pain  and  sickness,  and  doth  but  uncertainly  pro- 
cure and  recover  health  ;  the  patient  is  sure  to  be 
made  sick,  but  not  certain  to  be  made  well ;  and 
yet  the  danger  of  being  worse,  if  not  of  dying,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  hope  of  success  and  recovery  on 
the  other,  make  this  hazard  and  trouble  reasonable. 
Men  venture  their  whole  estates  to  places  which 
they  never  saw,  and  that  there  are  such  places,  they 
have  only  the  concurrent  testimony  and  agreement 
of  men  ;  nay,  perhaps  have  only  spoken  with  them 
that  have  spoken  with  those  that  have  been  there. 
No  merchant  ever  insisted  upon  the  evidence  of  a 
miracle  to  be  wrought,  to  satisfy  him  that  there 
were  such  places  as  the  East  and  West  Indies,  before 
he  would  venture  to  trade  thither :  and  yet  this 
assurance  God  hath  been  pleased  to  give  the  world 
of  a  state  beyond  the  grave,  and  of  a  blessed  im- 
"uortality  in  another  life. 

— TiUotson,  1 630-^694. 

(2175.)  Let  it  be  granted,  that  the  assurance  which 
,ve  have  of  future  rewards  falls  short  of  the  e\  idence 
of  sense.  .  .  .  [Yet]  we  have  as  much  as  is  abund- 
antly sufficient  to  justify  every  man's  discretion, 
who,  for  the  great  and  eternal  things  of  another 
world,  hazards  or  parts  with  the  poor  and  transitory 
things  of  this  life.  The  greatest  affairs  of  ihis  woild, 
and  the  most  important  concernments  of  ikis  life, 
are  all  conducted  only  by  moral  demonstrations. 
Men  every  day  venture  their  lives  and  estates 
only  upon  moral  assurance.  For  instance,  men 
who  were  never  at  the  East  or  West  Indies,  or  in 
Turkey  or  Spain,  yet  do  venture  their  whole 
estate  in  traffic  thither,  though  they  have  no 
mathematical  demonstration  but  only  moral  assur- 
ance that  there  are  such  places.  Nay,  which  is 
more,  men  every  day  eat  and  drink,  though  I  think 
no  man  can  demonstrate  out  of  Euclid  or  Apol- 
lonius,  that  his  baker,  brewer,  or  cook,  has  not 
coaveyed  poison  into  his  meat  or  drink.  And  that 
man  that  would  be  so  wise  and  cautious,  as  not  to 
eat  or  drink  until  he  could  demonstrate  this  to  him- 
self, I  know  no  other  remedy  for  him  but  that  in 
great  gravity  and  wisdom  he  must  die  for  fear  of 
death.  And  for  any  man  to  urge  that,  though  men 
in  temporal  affairs  proceed  upon  moral  assurances, 
yet  there  is  greater  assurance  required  to  make  men 
seek  heaven  and  avoid  hell,  seems  to  me  to  be 
highly  unreasonable.  For  such  an  assurance  of 
things  as  will  make  men  circumspect  and  careful 
to  avoid  a  lesser  danger,  ought  in  all  reason  to 
twaken    men    much    moi«     to    the   avoiding    of  a 


greater ;  such  an  assurance  as  will  sharpen  men's 
desire  and  quicken  their  endeavour  for  the  obtain- 
ing of  a  lesser  good,  ought  in  all  reason  to  animate 
men  more  powerfully,  and  to  inspire  them  willi  a 
greater  vigour  and  industry  in  the  pursuit  of  that 
which  is  infinitely  greater.  For  why  the  same 
assurance  should  not  operate  as  well  in  a  great 
danger  as  in  a  less,  in  a  great  good  as  in  a  small 
and  inconsiderable  one,  I  can  see  no  reason,  unless 
men  will  say,  that  the  greatness  of  an  evil  or  danger 
is  an  encouragement  to  men  to  run  upon  it,  and 
that  the  greatness  of  any  good  and  happiness  ought 
in  reason  to  dishearten  men  from  the  pursuit  of  it. 
—  Tillotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

II.  ARE  NECESSARY  TO  RESTRAIN  MEN 
FROM  CRIME. 

(2176.)  If  man  have  no  life  to  live  but  this,  and 
no  further  end  of  his  actions  than  a  beast,  nor  any 
further  account  to  give,  then  he  is  indeed  but  one 
of  the  higher  sorts  of  beasts,  differing  but  gradually 
from  a  dog,  as  a  dog  doth  from  a  swine.  And  if 
this  be  indeed  thy  judgment  of  thyself,  I  demand, 
whether  or  no  thou  be  content  to  be  used  as  a  beast  ? 
wilt  thou  not  take  it  ill  to  be  called  or  judged  a 
beast  by  another?  Or  wouldst  thou  have  others 
judge  better  of  thee  than  thyself?  wouldst  thou 
have  no  man  regard  thy  prosperity  or  life  any  more 
than  a  beast  is  to  be  regarded  ?  a  beast  hath  no 
property,  no,  not  of  that  which  nature  hath  given 
him.  You  accuse  not  yourselves  of  doing  him  any 
wrong,  when  you  deprive  the  sheep  of  his  fleece, 
or  when  you  make  a  constant  drudge  of  your  horse 
or  ox.  And  do  you  tiiink  it  lawful  before  God 
for  any  one  that  can  but  master  you  to  do  the  like 
by  you?  To  strip  you  naked,  and  to  make  pack- 
horses  of  you,  and  use  you  as  their  slaves  ?  we  take 
it  to  be  no  sin  to  take  away  the  lives  of  beasts,  if 
it  be  but  for  our  own  commodity.  We  kill  oxen,  and 
calves,  and  sheep,  and  swine,  and  fowl,  and  fishes 
for  our  daily  food.  And  is  it  lawful  before  God  for 
others  to  do  so  by  you  ?  Should  nothing  restrain 
them  but  want  of  power  to  overcome  you?  If  you 
say  that  you  are  beasts,  as  beasts  you  should  be 
used.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

III.  ARE  NECESSARY  TO  VINDICATE  THE 
JUSTICE  OF  GOD. 

(2177,)  There  is  no  such  execution  in  this  life  of 
the  laws  of  God,  as  are  sufficient  to  the  ends  of 
government.  The  wicked  prosper,  and  destroy  the 
just  :  the  best  do  most  deny  their  flesh,  and  are 
oppressed  by  others.  You  see  this  in  yourselves, 
and  make  it  an  argument  for  your  infidelity.  But 
stay  a  little  till  the  assizes  come.  It  follows  not 
that  there  is  no  government  or  justice,  because  the 
thief  or  murderer  is  not  hanged  before  the  assizes, 
or  as  soon  as  he  hath  done  the  act. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

IV.  WHY   TKEY  ARE  HIDDEN  FROM  US, 
(2178.)  If  any  shall  here  say,   "But  why  would 

not  God  let  us  have  a  sight  of  heaven  or  hell  when 
He  could  not  but  know  that  it  would  more  generally 
and  certainly  prevail  for  the  conversion  and  salva^ 
tion  of  the  world.  Doth  He  envy  us  the  most 
eff^ectual  means  ?  " 

I  answer,  "Who  art  thou,  O  man,  that  disputest 
against  God?  Shall  the  thing  formed  say  unto  Him 
that  formed  it,  Why    hast  thou   made   me   thus?" 


FUTURE  REWARDS 


(     369     ) 


AND  PUNISHMENTS. 


Must  God  come  down  to  the  bar  of  man  to  render 
an  account  of  the  reason  of  His  works  !  Why  do 
you  not  also  ask  Him  a  reason  of  the  nature, 
situation,  magnitude,  order,  influences,  &c.,  of  all 
the  stars,  and  superior  orbs,  and  call  Him  to  an 
account  for  all  His  works?  When  yet  there  are  so 
many  things  in  your  own  bodies  of  which  you  little 
understand  the  reason,  is  it  not  intolerable  impud- 
ence for  such  worms  as  we  are,  so  low,  so  dark, 
to  question  the  eternal  God,  concerning  the 
reason  of  His  laws  and  dispensations?  Do  we 
not  shamefully  forget  our  ignorance  and  our  dis- 
tance ? 

But  if  you  must  have  a  reason,  let  this  suffice  you. 
It  is  fit  that  the  government  of  God  be  suited  to  the 
nature  of  the  reasonable  subject.  And  reason  is 
made  to  apprehend  more  than  we  see,  and  by  reach- 
ing beyond  sense,  to  carry  us  to  seek  things  higher 
and  better  than  sense  can  reach.  If  you  would  have 
a  man  understand  no  more  than  he  sees,  you  would 
almost  equalise  a  wise  man  and  a  fool,  and  make  a 
man  too  like  a  beast.  Even  in  worldly  matters,  you 
will  venture  upon  the  greatest  cost  and  pains  for 
the  tilings  that  you  see  not,  nor  ever  saw.  He  that 
hath  a  journey  to  go  to  a  place  that  he  never  saw 
will  not  think  that  a  sufficient  reason  to  stay  at 
home.  The  merchant  will  sail  a  thousand  miles  to 
a  land  and  for  a  commodity  that  he  never  saw. 
Must  the  husbandman  see  the  harvest  before  he 
plough  his  land,  and  sow  his  seed?  Must  the  sick 
man  feel  that  he  hath  health  before  he  use  the  means 
to  get  it  ?  Must  the  soldier  see  that  he  hath  the 
victory  before  he  fight  ?  You  would  take  such  con- 
ceit's in  worldly  matters  to  be  the  symptoms  of  dis- 
traction ;  and  will  you  cherish  them  where  they 
are  most  pernicious?  Hath  God  made  man  for  any 
end,  or  for  none  ?  If  none,  he  is  made  in  vain  :  if 
for  any,  no  reason  can  expect  that  he  should  see 
his  end  before  he  use  the  means,  and  see  his  home 
before  he  begin  to  travel  towards  it.  When 
cl'.ildren  first  go  to  school,  they  do  not  see  or  enjoy 
the  learning  and  wisdom  which  by  time  and  labour 
they  must  attain.  You  will  provide  for  the  children 
which  you  are  like  to  have  before  you  see  them. 
To  look  that  sight,  which  is  our  fruition  itself, 
should  go  before  a  holy  life,  is  to  expect  the 
end  before  we  use  the  necessary  means.  You  see 
here,  in  the  government  of  the  world,  that  it  is  things 
unseen  that  are  the  instruments  of  rule,  and  motives 
of  obedience.  Shall  no  man  be  restrained  from 
felony  or  murder,  but  he  that  seeth  the  assizes  or 
the  gallows  ?  It  is  enough  that  he  foreseeth  them, 
as  being  made  known  by  the  laws.  It  would  be  no 
discrimination  of  the  good  and  bad,  the  wise  and 
foolish,  if  the  reward  and  punishment  must  be  seen. 
What  thief  so  mad  as  to  steal  at  the  gallows,  or 
before  the  judge?  The  basest  habits  would  be  re- 
strained from  acting,  if  the  reward  and  punish- 
ment were  in  sight.  The  most  beastly  drunkard 
would  not  be  drunk  ;  the  filthy  fornicator  would 
forliear  his  lust  ;  the  malicious  enemies  of  godliness 
woald  forbear  their  calumnies  and  jiersecutions,  if 
heaven  and  hell  were  open  to  their  sight.  No  man 
will  play  the  adulterer  in  the  face  of  the  assembly  : 
the  chaste  and  unchaste  seem  there  alike  :  and  so 
they  would  do  if  they  saw  the  face  of  the  most 
dreadful  God.  No  thanks  to  any  of  you  all  to  be 
godly  if  heaven  were  to  be  presently  seen  ;  or  to 
forbear  your  sin  if  you  saw  hell  fire  !  God  will  have 
a  meeter  way  of  trial.  You  shall  believe  His  pro- 
mises if  ever  you  will  have  the  benefit ;  and  believe 


His    threatenings    if   ever    you    will    escape    the 
threatened  evil.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2179.)  It  further  reconcileth  me  to  this  disposure 
and  will  of  the  blessed  God,  and  this  necessary 
natural  distance  and  darkness  of  our  mind,  when  I 
consider  that  if  God,  and  heaven,  and  hell,  were  as 
near  and  open  to  our  apprehensions  as  the  things 
are  which  we  see  and  feel,  this  life  would  not  be 
what  God  intended  it  to  be,  a  life  of  trial  and  pre- 
paration to  another — a  work,  a  race,  a  pilgrimage,  a 
warfare  ;  what  triixl  would  there  be  of  any  man's 
faith,  or  love,  or  obedience,  or  constancy,  or  self- 
denial  ?  If  we  saw  God  stand  by,  or  apprehended 
Him  as  if  we  saw  Him  (in  degree),  it  would  be  no 
more  praiseworthy  or  rewardable  for  a  man  to 
abhor  all  temptations  to  worldliness,  ambition, 
gluttony,  drunkenness,  lust,  cruelty,  &c.,  than  it  is 
for  a  man  to  be  kept  from  sleeping  that  is  pierced 
with  thorns,  or  for  a  man  to  forbear  to  drink  a  cup 
of  melted  gold  which  he  knoweth  will  burn  out  his 
bowels,  or  to  forbear  to  burn  his  flesh  in  fire.  It 
were  no  great  commendation  to  his  chastity,  that 
would  forbear  his  filthiness  if  he  saw  or  had  the 
fullest  apprehensions  of  God  ;  when  he  will  foibear 
it  in  the  presence  of  a  mortal  man.  It  were  no  great 
commendation  to  the  intemperate  and  voluptuous 
to  have  no  mind  of  sensual  tlelights  if  they  had  but 
such  a  knowledge  of  God  as  were  equal  to  sight. 
It  were  no  thanks  to  the  persecutor  to  forbear  his 
cruelty  against  the  servants  of  the  Lord  if  he  "saw 
Christ  coming  with  His  glorious  angels,  to  take 
vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God  and  obey 
not  the  Gospel,  and  to  be  admired  in  His  saints, 
and  glorified  in  them  that  now  believe."  I  deny 
not  but  this  happily  necessitated  holiness  is  best  in 
itself,  and  therefore  will  be  our  state  in  heaven. 
But  what  is  there  of  trial  in  it ;  or  how  can  it  be 
suitable  to  the  state  of  man,  that  must  have  good 
and  evil  set  before  him,  and  life  and  death  left  to 
his  choice  ;  and  who  must  conquer  if  he  will  be 
crowned  and  approve  his  fidelity  to  his  Creator 
against  competitors,  and  must  live  a  rewardable  life 
before  he  have  the  reward  ? 

— Baxter,  161 5- 169 1. 

V.  THE  PUNISHMENT  OF  THE  IMPENI- 
TENT IS  ETERNAL. 

1.  This  declaration  Is  not  Inconsistent  wltll 
what  we  know  of  God. 

(2180.)  If  Scripture  be  certainly  true,  then  the 
most  terrible  passages  in  it  are  certainly  true  ;  no- 
thing is  more  hardly  believed  by  men  than  that 
which  will  be  most  tormenting  to  their  minds  when 
it  is  believed,  that  none  shall  be  saved  but  the  re- 
generate and  holy  ;  and  those  that  live  not  after  the 
flesh,  but  the  Spirit,  and  love  God  in  Christ  above 
all  the  world,  even  their  own  lives  ;  and  that,  besides 
these  few,  all  the  rest  shall  be  tormented  in  hell  for 
ever.  This  is  the  doctrine  that  flesh  and  blood  will 
hardly  down  with.  They  say  or  think  they  will 
never  believe  that  God  will  be  so  unmerciful  ;  as  if 
God  must  needs  be  less  merciful  than  man,  because 
He  is  more  just  and  holy,  and  will  nut  be  so  in- 
dulgent to  their  flesh  and  sin  as  they  are  themselves, 
and  would  have  Him  to  be.  And  I  have  known 
even  godly  men,  through  the  remnant  of  their  coi- 
ruption  and  darkness  in  the  things  of  God,  and  the 
violence  of  temptation,  much  troubled  with  their  un- 
belief in  this  particular.     But  God  cannot  lie  ;  the 

2   A 


FUTURE  REWARDS 


(     370    ) 


AND  PUNISHMENTS. 


Scripture  being  true,  and  the  Christian  religion 
certainly  true,  every  part  of  it  must  needs  be  true. 
But  because  sensual  nature  looks  for  sensible  de- 
monstration or  proof,  let  me  ask  the  unbelievers 
tills  one  question — "  Uo  you  believe  that  which  you 
see  and  fesl,  ani  all  the  world  feels  as  well  as 
you?"  You  know  that  all  mankind  liveth  here  a 
life  of  trouble  and  misery  ;  we  come  into  the  world 
in  a  very  poor  condition,  and  we  pass  through  it  in 
daily  labour  and  sorrow,  and  we  pass  out  of  it 
through  the  dreadful  pangs  of  death.  What  inces- 
sant labour  have  the  most  of  them,  how  much  want 
and  misery,  how  much  care  and  grief !  Do  you  not 
see  and  feel  how  sicknesses  do  torment  us  ?  When 
one  pain  is  over,  another  is  at  hand.  Have  you  not 
seen  some  under  such  terrible  fits  of  the  gout,  or 
stone,  or  other  diseases,  that  they  thought  no  tor- 
ment could  be  greater  ;  some  with  their  legs  rotting, 
and  must  be  cut  off;  some  with  loathsome  cancers 
and  leprosies  on  them  many  years  together  ;  some 
that  have  lost  their  eyesight,  have  lost  almost  all 
the  comfort  of  life  ;  some  that  never  coukl  see ; 
some  that  never  could  hear  or  speak  ?  I  have  known 
some  in  such  pain  that  they  have  cried  out  they  did 
not  believe  there  was  greater  in  hell  ;  some  are  mad, 
and  some  idiots  :  are  not  all  these  in  a  very  miser- 
able case  ?  Now,  I  would  ask  you  further  if  God 
may,  without  any  unmercifulness,  do  all  this  to 
men,  and  that  as  a  chastisement  in  the  way  to 
bring  them  to  repentance  ;  if  He  may,  without  un- 
mercifulness, make  a  David  cry  out  in  misery,  and 
wash  his  couch  with  his  tears  ;  and  make  a  Job  to 
lie  scraping  his  sores  on  a  dunghill ;  why  should 
you  think  He  cannot,  without  unmercifulness,  tor- 
ment incurable  sinners  in  hell?  Further,  1  would 
ask  you  this  question  :  Suppose  you  had  lived  in 
Adam's  paradise,  or  some  condition  of  pleasure  and 
rest,  where  you  never  had  tasted  of  sickness,  or 
labour,  or  want,  or  feared  death,  if  God's  Word  had 
there  told  you,  but  that  man  shall  endure  so  much 
misery  as  I  have  here  mentioned  and  men  daily 
sufl'er,  and  should  die  at  last  for  his  sin,  would  you 
have  said,  "  I  will  never  believe  God  would  be  so 
unmerciful"?  You  that  say  so  now,  would  likely 
have  said  so  then  in  this  case ;  for  feeling  the  plea- 
sure yourselves,  you  would  on  the  same  ground 
have  said,  "  God  is  unmerciful  if  He  should  make 
man  so  miserable  ;  "  and  yet  you  see  and  feel  that 
God  doth  it,  and  we  know  that  He  is  not  unmerci- 
ful. — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(2181.)  "  The  character  of  God  is  Love  ;  which  is 
expressly  against  the  horrible  idea  of  the  endless 
misery  of  any  of  His  rational  creatures."  So,  sir, 
you  are  pleased  to  assert.  Another  might  from  the 
same  premises  infer  that  the  punishment  of  any  of 
His  rational  creatures  in  hell,  for  ages  of  ages,  where 
there  shall  be  weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing 
of  teeth  (and  this  notwithstanding  the  death  of 
His  Son,  and  the  omnipotence  of  His  grace,  which 
surely  was  able  to  have  saved  them  fr(jm  it),  is 
horrible  and  incredible?  Is  it  inconsistent  with 
the  benevolence  of  a  supreme  magistrate  that  he 
dooms  certain  characters  to  death  ?  Rather,  is  it 
not  an  exeicise  of  his  benevolence?  Should  a 
malefactor  persuade  himself  and  his  companions 
in  guilt  that  His  Majesty  cannot  possibly  consent 
to  their  execution,  without  ceasing  to  be  that  lovely 
and  good  character  for  which  he  has  been  famed, 
would  not  his  reasoning  be  as  false  in  itself  as  it  was 
iiijurious  'o  the  king?  5lay,  would  it  not  be  iniai:al 


to  his  own  interest  and  that  of  his  fellow-ciiminals  | 
as,  by  raising  a  delusive  hope,  they  are  prevented 
from  making  a  proper  and  timely  application  to  tlie 
thione  for  mercy  ? 

— Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815. 

{2182.)  They  take  for  granted  a  certain  notion 
of  the  mercy  and  goodness  of  God,  with  which 
everlasting  punishment  is  inconsistent.  Now  the 
question  is,  whence  this  notion  is  derived  by  them, 
that  they  should  be  so  confident  of  its  truth  as  for  its 
sake  to  efface  the  plain  meaning  of  Scripture.  The 
mercy  and  goodness  of  God  need  not  to  be  lauded 
here,  after  what  hath  been  written  in  the  third 
part  of  this  discourse.  But  though  exceeding  great, 
and  greatly  to  be  adored,  and  sufficient  for  the 
salvation  of  all  the  earth,  these  attributes  do  con- 
sist with  others  of  a  firmer  texture  and  a  sterner 
mood.  Here  are  we,  the  sons  of  men,  suffering 
daily  pain,  misery,  and  death,  although  we  were  not 
instrumental  to  the  fall.  God  looks  upon  our  case, 
and  doth  not  hinder  it.  He  hath  sent  a  remedy, 
but  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  men  have  never 
heard  of  it.  Contemplate  the  condition  of  whole 
continents  of  the  earth  sweltering  in  sultry  toil,  or 
raging  in  fierce  contests  of  mutual  misery  and 
destruction,  oppressed  by  the  wilfulness  of  single 
men,  at  whose  pleasure  they  are  bought  and  sold, 
imprisoned  and  put  to  death  without  knowledge 
of  better  things  to  come,  or  cheerful  hope  of  any 
redress  of  wrong.  All  for  what?  for  the  sin  of  our 
first  great  parents,  over  whom  we  had  no  control ; 
let  them  contemplate  this,  and  see  what  stern 
attributes  dwell  by  the  side  of  Divine  mercy  and 
goodness.  I  confess,  when  I  contemplate  the 
administration  of  this  woful  world  since  the  fall, 
so  far  as  it  is  recorded  in  the  annals  of  nations, 
I  feel  a  shrinking  terror  of  the  sternness  of  Him  in 
whose  hands  the  government  rests.  The  world 
hath  been  a  very  furnace  of  hot  and  murderoiis 
passions,  a  seething  vessel  of  blood,  which  hath 
never  rested,  but  smoked  to  heaven  in  vain.  Even 
still,  after  the  great  propitiation  and  atonement  for 
the  world's  sins  it  never  resteth.  Every  day  men 
are  immolated  u]wn  a  bloody  altar,  and  their 
unshrived  spirits  pass  in  most  desperate  moods 
into  eternity.  Wickedness  rageth,  princes  com- 
bine against  the  Lord  and  His  Anointed,  they 
filch  the  sacred  authority  of  God,  they  plant  their 
scornful  loot  upon  the  neck  of  noble  nations,  and 
they  defy  the  tears  and  groans  of  millions  to  melt 
their  sror.y  hearts.  Oh,  my  God  !  when  will  this 
have  an  end?  when  wilt  Thou  dash  them  in  pieces 
like  the  potsherd,  and  vex  them  in  Thy  hot  dis- 
pleasure? Thus,  when  I  look  upon  and  remember 
from  what  small  beginnings  it  arose,  I,  for  one, 
cannot  doubt  of  the  Almighty's  force  of  characte^ 
to  carry  anything  into  etiect.  If  God  can  exist 
with  such  a  blighted  region  and  tormented  people 
under  His  government,  why  may  He  not  also  exist 
in  the  knowledge  and  permission  of  hell  ? 

— Irving. 

{2183.)  Those  who  oppo?fc  the  doctrine  of  future 
punishment,  future  chains  and  darkness,  are  accus- 
tomed to  say  they  cannot  believe  that  God  will 
take  pleasure  in  for  ever  punishing  the  sinner. 
They  claim  that  He  will  provide  some  expedient, 
either  annihilation  at  death,  universal  salvation, 
or  restoration.  But  does  He  take  pleasure  in 
witnessing   the   terrible   woe  and   pain  which  sin 


FUTURE  REWARDS 


(     371     ) 


AND  PUNISHMENTS. 


entails  upon  its  victims  in  this  world?  Does  He 
take  pleasure  in  seeing  the  inebriate  and  the 
sensualist  irredeemably  enslaved  to  their  appetites 
and  passions?  And  yet  they  are  enslaved.  In 
consequence  of  these  things,  men  suffer.  The 
world  is  full  of  misery.  Why  does  He  not  pre- 
vent it  ?  Are  antecedent  probabilities  valid  in 
opposition  to  facts?  All  believe  that  it  will  not 
be  any  personal  gratification  for  God  to  withhold 
forgiveness  from  the  finally  impenitent  merely  for 
the  sake  of  withholding  it.  Ihat  would  not  be 
Godlike.  But  may  not  some  other  motives  influ- 
ence Him?  We  know,  from  the  very  best  authority, 
that  sin  is  to  be  an  eternal  fact  in  the  universe  of 
God.  As  such,  must  it  not  have  its  own  awful 
and  isolated  development,  its  own  awful  and 
isolated  history?  The  majesty  of  God's  natural 
laws  requires  that  violations  of  them  shall  be  fol- 
lowed by  the  infliction  of  penalties — An  eye  for  an 
eye,  a  tooth  lor  a  tooth.  Are  these  moral  and 
spiritual  laws  less  important  ?  Would  it  be  safe 
to  admit  certain  characters  into  a  place  of  which 
one  of  the  primal  ideas  is  security  ?  Does  not 
the  peace  of  heaven  demand  that  those  who  are 
selfish,  and  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ,  which 
al.:)ne  destroys  selfishness ;  that  those  who  are 
impenitent,  unmerciful,  and  unforgiving  beyond 
recovery  ;  that  those  who  choose  darkness  rather 
than  light,  because  they  have  continued  to  love 
evil  deeds,  until  they  have  learned  to  love  nothing 
better  ;  — does  not  salety  require  that  such  men  be 
allowed  to  chain  themselves  outside  the  gates  of 
the  city?  Lax  administration  towards  such  a  class 
will  work  the  ruin  of  any  government.  Heaven 
is  no  exception.  Do  not  God's  providence  and 
revelation  justify  the  conclusion  that  He  is  too  wise 
and  decisive  to  follow  the  pusillanimous  course 
oi  a  people  who  fail  in  a  first  conception  of  what 
treason  means?  Will  He  not  make  it  odious 
throughout  His  domains?  Will  He  not  put  such 
a  stamp  upon  sin  and  treason  that  they  will  be 
known  anywhere?  To  do  it,  is  it  not  His  duty? 
Will  the  righteous  verdict  of  the  universe  excuse 
Him  for  not  vindicating  His  broken  laws  by  the 
enslavement  of  vvillul  and  hardened  traitors?  Are 
not  the  traitors  of  His  government  those  who 
deliberately  and  wilfully  reject  and  resist  Him? 
Sin  is  treason.  It  is  of  no  use  to  say  such  traitors 
do  not  exist  ;  they  do  exist.  Mix  well  with  the 
world,  and  you  will  see  them.  God's  object  in 
the  punishment,  the  self-imposed  punishment,  of 
the  sinner  is  not  personal  gratification  or  viudic- 
tiveness,  but  is  resorted  to  as  an  extreme  measure. 
It  is  a  plan  by  which  to  prevent  another  catas- 
trophe in  His  kingdom.  One  such  is  enough,  full 
enough.  The  heart  sickens  at  the  thought  of 
another.  Loyalty  throughout  His  vast  empire, 
henceforth,  is  His  grand  design.  The  safety  of 
an  ever-progressive  and  ever-increasing  kingdom 
is  the  problem.  Extreme  measures  which  now 
exist,  but  which  were  not  commenced  before  Satan 
fell,  and  before  sin  entered  the  universe,  can  effect 
this.  Shall  God  emijloy  them,  or  not?  They  are 
in  process  of  execution  already  :  shall  He  arrest 
their  normal  action  ?  Shall  the  event  of  death 
reverse  all  law,  and  make  treason  glorious  ?  Shall 
an  impenitent  Satan  be  reinstated  in  Paradise? 
Sha!'  the  lights  of  heaven  be  reintrusted  to  his 
bloody  and  deathly  hand?  Universal  and  eternal 
interests  hang  trembling  upon  the  answer  "  Ves," 
and  "Farewell,   heaven!"  m'>s-*  be  spoken  m  the 


same  breath.  Many  earthly  governments  have 
stood  for  centuries,  which  would  have  had  an  early 
extinction  but  for  their  salutary  and  vigorous 
enactments  against  treason.  Ostracism  or  loyalty, 
chains  and  granite  walls  or  obedience,  are  the  right 
and  left  ventricles  of  a  nation's  heart.  The  future, 
if  our  conclusions  be  correct,  lies  between  one  hell 
and  one  heaven,  or  two  hells  and  no  heaven. 

—  lownsend. 

(2184.)  Sometimes,  in  dark  caves,  men  have  gone 
to  the  edgeof  unspeaking  precipices,  and  wondering 
what  was  the  depth,  have  cast  down  fragments  of 
rock,  and  listened  for  the  report  of  their  fall,  that 
they  might  judge  how  deep  that  blackness  was,  and 
listening — still  listening— no  sound  returns ;  no 
sudden  splash,  no  clinking  stroke  as  of  rock  against 
rock — nothing  but  silence,  utter  silence  !  And  so  I 
stand  upon  the  precipice  of  life,  I  sound  the  depths 
of  the  other  world  with  curious  inquiries.  But  from 
it  comes  no  echo  and  no  answer  to  my  questions. 
No  analogies  can  grapple  and  bring  up  from  the 
depths  of  the  darkness  of  the  lost  world  any  distinct 
probable  truths.  No  philosophy  has  line  and 
plummet  long  enough  to  sound  the  depths.  There 
remains  for  us  only  the  few  authoritative  and  solemn 
words  of  God.  Ihese  declare  that  the  bliss  of  the 
righteous  is  everlasting  ;  and  with  equal  directness 
and  simplicity  they  declare  that  the  doom  of  the 
wicketi  is  everlasting. 

And  therelbre  it  is  that  I  make  haste,  with  an  in- 
conceivable ardour,  to  persuade  you  to  be  reconciled 
to  your  God.  I  hold  up  before  you  that  God  who 
loves  the  sinner  and  abhors  the  sin  ;  who  loves 
goodness  with  infinite  fervour,  and  breathes  it  upon 
those  who  put  their  trust  in  Him  ;  who  makes  all 
the  elements  His  ministering  servants  ;  who  sends 
years,  and  weeks,  and  days,  and  hours,  all  radiant 
with  benefaction,  and  if  we  would  but  hear  their 
voice,  all  pleading  the  goodness  of  God  as  an  argu- 
ment of  repentfiuce  and  of  obedience.  And  re- 
member that  this  is  the  God  who  yet  declares  that 
He  will  at  last  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty  I 
Make  your  peace  with  Him  now,  or  abandon  all 
hopes  of  peace.  — Beeclier. 

2.  Guilt  is  not  to  be  measured  by  tlie  time  occu- 
pied in  transgression. 

(2185.)  Do  not,  because  the  sin  is  committed  in  a 
small  moment,  calculate  that  therefore  the  punish- 
ment also  must  be  a  matter  of  a  moment.  Seest 
thou  not  those  men,  who  for  a  single  theft,  or  a 
single  act  of  adultery,  committed  in  a  small  amount 
of  time,  oftentimes  have  spent  their  whole  life  in 
prisons,  and  in  mines,  struggling  with  continual 
hunger  anel  every  kind  of  death  ?  Ami  there  is  no 
one  to  set  them  at  liberty,  or  to  say,  "The  offence 
took  place  in  a  small  amount  of  time  :  the  punislr- 
ment  too  should  have  its  time,  equivalent  to  that  of 
the  sin."  — Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(2186.)  It  is  objected  that  there  is  no  proportic  1 
between  time  and  eternity,  and,  consequently,  thit 
to  punish  man  eternally  for  doing  wrong  in  his 
short  lifetime  is  inequitable.  While  it  is  not  denied 
that  punishment  is  merited,  it  is  contended  that 
there  should  be  some  proportion  between  the  crime 
and  the  penalty. 

In  answer  to  this  objection,  let  us  examine  the 
law  of  proportion  in  the  light  of  social  laws.  Does 
the  idea  of  proportion  amount  roughly  to  this,  that 


FUTURE  REWARDS 


(    373    ) 


AND  PUNISHMENTS. 


h  day's  crime  should  be  met  by  a  day's  punishment ; 
that  a  man  who  does  wrong  to-day  should  be  pun- 
ished to-morrow,  and  restored  to  confidence  the  day 
after?  The  objector  will  probably  say,  "No, 
not  exactly  that ;  but  say  that  a  day's  crime  should 
be  met  by  a  month's  punishment,  or  a  year's  ;  only 
let  there  be  some  proportion  between  the  crime  and 
the  penalty."  The  answer  does  not  relieve  the 
difficulty.  What  is  the  moral  proportion  between 
one  day  and  a  month,  or  one  day  and  a  year? 
Does  nothing  depend  on  the  nature  of  the  crime?  For 
example:  a  man  commits  a  petty  larceny;  would 
the  objector  say  that  a  month's  imprisonment  would 
be  enough  ?  Another  man,  say,  commits  murder  ; 
would  the  objector  say  that  a  year's  punishment 
would  suffice?  But  why  should  the  one  criminal  be 
punished  a  month  and  the  other  a  year?  It  is 
urged  that  the  nature  of  the  crime  determines  that. 
Let  this  be  granted  ;  then  it  will  appear  that  the 
proportion  is  really  not  one  of  time  but  of  turpitude. 
In  reality  society  proceeds  upon  the  principle  that 
the  extent  of  time  occupied  in  perpeuation  of  a 
criminal  act  is  not  to  be  taken  into  account  in  con- 
sidering the  punishment  which  is  to  be  awarded. 
Nor  ought  it  to  be  afccounted  of.  Less  time  may  be 
occupied  in  taking  away  a  life  than  in  committing  a 
burglary  ;  but,  on  the  principle  of  strict  proportion 
(which  sophistically  proceeds  on  the  idea  of  mere 
duration),  the  burglar  should  undergo  a  longer 
punishment  than  the  murderer.  But  society  will 
not  allow  this  ;  its  moral  instincts  overrule  its 
sentimentalities,  and  demand  that  the  gravity  of  the 
crime  should  determine  the  gravity  of  the  punish- 
ment. 

An  illustration  may  be  useful  here.  Thirty 
years  ago,  let  it  be  supposed,  a  criminal  forged 
the  reader's  name  to  a  cheque  for  a  thousand 
guineas.  He  did  it  in  a  few  moments  ;  a  stroke 
or  two  of  the  skilled  pen,  and  the  deed  was  done. 
The  criminal  never  confessed  the  act ;  never  uttered 
a  penitential  word  ;  he  suffered  imprisonment  for 
ten  years ;  and  now  for  twenty  years  he  has  been 
at  large.  Has  the  reader  forgi\en  him?  Has  he 
•estored  him  to  confidence?  Has  he  invited  the 
oftender  into  his  family  circle?  Has  he  replaced 
him  at  the  commercial  desk  ?  The  reader  says, 
"No."  But  what  becomes  of  the  argument  of 
proportion  ?  Let  it  be  remembered  that  the  crimi- 
nal was  imprisoned  ten  years  for  a  crime  committed 
in  less  than  ten  minutes.  Was  not  the  punish- 
ishment  sufficient  ?  Think  of  ten  minutes  being 
multiplied  into  ten  years,  and  then  say  whether 
more  can  he  reasonably  demanded.  But  it  may 
be  urged  that  the  criminal  is  impenitent ;  he  never 
owns  his  sin,  never  asks  forgiveness,  and  treats  the 
injured  man  as  if  he  himself  had  been  injured. 
The  injured  man  is  so  far  philanthropic  as  to  say 
that  he  will  meet  the  criminal  on  the  first  sign  of 
contrition — he  only  waits  an  acknowledgment  of 
the  guilt  and  promise  of  better  behaviour.  No- 
thing can  be  more  humane, — nothing  more  reason- 
able ;  and  the  point  to  be  specially  remarked  is 
that  this  is  the  very  principle  upon  wliich  the 
divine  government  in  relation  to  sin  proceeds : 
"If  we  confess  our  sins,  He  is  faithful  and  just 
to  forgive  us  our  sins."  Man's  own  heart  being 
witness,  he  proceeds  upon  the  very  principle  of 
adjudication  which  he  condemns  in  the  govern- 
ment of  God. 

The  sum  of  the  answer  is  this  :  if  a  criminal 
contmue  tu  be  impenitent  respecting  any  crime,  he 


is  as  guilty  of  that  crime  on  the  last  day  of  his  lift 

as  he  was  in  the  very  hour  of  its  committal,  though 
he  may  have  survived  that  hour  fifty  years.  Tin  c 
has  no  mitigating  influence  upon  guilt.  The  ques- 
tion between  the  criminal  and  society  is  not  one  of  \ 
time,  but  of  penitence,  and,  so  long  as  he  is  im- 
penitent, society  must,  by  a  compulsion  deeper 
thsr  all  formal  law,  mark  and  avoid  him.  Society 
docs  this.  If  particular  members  of  society  do  not 
do  so,  they  are  immoral — connivance  with  unre- 
pented  guilt  being  an  affront  to  the  spirit  of  virtue. 
Society  punishes  (more  or  less  lightly,  more  or  less- 
directly)  all  impenitent  offenders  against  its  laws, 
and  punishes  them  throughout  their  whole  lifetime, 
which  is  as  much  of  eternity  as  its  retributive  influ- 
ence can  encompass.  In  very  grave  cases,  indeed, 
society  will  not  allow  the  penal  shadow  to  pass 
from  the  reputation  even  after  death ;  so  truly  is 
this  the  case  that  there  are  names  which  cannot 
now  be  pronounced,  though  they  represent  long 
extinct  lives,  without  bringing  a  frown  upon  the 
countenances  of  all  who  hear  them.  Is  this  eternal 
punishment,  or  is  it  not  ? 

The  question  of  proportion  may  be  looked  at  in 
another  light.  A  citizen  who  has  maintained  a 
good  reputation  for  half  a  century  as  a  pure,  upright, 
noble  man  ;  who  has  figured  on  subscription  lists 
as  a  generous  benefactor  of  the  poor  ;  whose  name 
obtained  the  highest  credit  on  the  Exchange, — has 
been  proved  guilty  of  a  crime  :  the  crime  was  being 
perpetrated  in  imagined  secrecy  ;  the  criminal  had 
no  idea  that  any  eye  was  upon  him  ;  the  fact,  how- 
ever, becomes  known  ;  and  the  question  is,  How 
does  society  treat  the  tower  which  was  fifty  years 
in  building?  Society  razes  the  very  foundations, 
and  forgets  half  a  century  of  unchallenged  life  in 
one  day's  discovered  villany.  But  where  is  the 
law  of  proportion  ?  Why  not  deduct  one  day  from 
the  fifty  years'  reputation,  or  regard  the  crime  but 
as  a  spot  on  the  disc  of  a  brilliant  life?  The  law 
of  proportion  founded  on  mere  duration  would, 
if  strictly  interpreted,  require  this  deduction ;  but 
society  happily  forgets  its  formal  logic  when  under 
the  influence  of  high  moral  inspiration,  and  in  its 
own  arbitraments  reproduces  the  government  of 
God. 

The  argument  of  proportion  as  to  time  is  ob- 
viously fallacious.  No  crime  is  self-contained.  All 
actions  are  influential.  What  is  done  in  an  hour 
may  affect  society  through  many  generations.  Long 
after  the  pebble  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  the 
circles  multiply  and  expand  on  the  surface.  The 
lifting  of  a  hand  sends  a  vibration  to  the  stars. 

— Parker. 

3.  Those  wlio  are  consig-ned  to  It  have  already 
proved  themselves  incorrigible. 

(2187.)  Say  not  unto  me,  "Where  is  the  rule  of 
justice  preserved  entire,  if  the  punishment  has  no 
end  ? "  Rather  when  God  does  anything,  obey 
His  decisions,  and  submit  not  what  is  said  to  human 
reasonings.  But,  moreover,  how  can  it  be  any- 
thing else  than  just,  for  one  who  has  experienced 
innumerable  blessings  from  the  beginning,  and 
then  committed  deeds  worthy  of  punishment, 
and  neither  by  threat  nor  benefit  improved  at 
all,  to  suffer  punishment?  P'or  if  thou  inquire 
what  is  absolute  justice;  it  was  meet  that  we 
should  have  perished  immediately  from  the  bf-. 
ginning,  according  to  the  definition  of  strict 
justice.     Rather   not   even   then   according   to  the 


FUTURE  REWARDS 


(     373    ) 


AND  PUNISHMENTS, 


rale  of  justice  only,  for  the  result  would  have  had  in 
it  kindness  too,  if  we  had  suffered  this  also.  For 
when  any  one  insults  him  that  has  done  him  no 
wrong,  according  to  the  rule  of  justice  he  suffers 
punishment :  but  when  it  is  his  benefactor,  who, 
bound  by  no  previous  favour,  has  bestowed  in- 
numerable'indnesses,  who  alone  is  the  Author  of  his 
being,  who  is  God,  who  breathed  his  soul  into  him, 
who  gave  ten  thousand  gifts  of  grace,  whose  will  is 
to  take  him  up  into  heaven  ; — when,  I  say,  such  an 
one,  after  so  great  blessings,  is  met  by  insult,  daily 
insult,  in  the  conduct  of  the  other  party  ;  how  can 
that  other  one  be  thought  worthy  of  pardon  ?  Uost 
thou  not  see  how  He  punished  Adam  for  cue  single 
sin? 

"Yes,"  you  will  say;  "but  He  had  given  him 
Paradise,  and  caused  him  to  enjoy  much  favour." 
Kay,  surely  it  is  not  all  as  one,  for  a  man  to  sin  in 
the  enjoyment  of  security  and  ease,  and  in  a  state  of 
great  affliction.  In  fact,  this  is  the  dreadful  circum- 
stance, that  thy  sins  are  the  sins  of  one  not  in  any 
Paradise,  but  amid  the  innumerable  evils  of  this 
life  ;  that  thou  art  not  sobered  even  by  affliction,  as 
though  one  in  prison  should  still  practise  his  crime. 
However,  unto  thee  He  has  promised  tilings  yet 
greater  than  Paradise.  But  neither  has  He  given 
them  now,  lest  He  should  unnerve  thee  in  the 
season  of  conflicts  ;  nor  has  He  been  silent  about 
them,  lest  He  should  quite  cast  thee  down  with  thy 
labours.  As  for  Adam,  he  committed  but  one  sin, 
and  brought  on  himself  certain  death  ;  whereas  we 
commit  ten  thousand  trangressions  daily.  Now  if 
he  by  that  one  act  brought  upon  himself  so  great  an 
evil,  and  introduced  death,  what  shall  not  we  suffer 
who  continually  live  in  sins,  and  instead  of  Paradise 
have  the  expectation  of  heaven  ? 

— C/uysostom,  347-407. 

4.  They  are  punished  for  ever,  because  they 
would  sin  for  ever. 

(2188.)  Two  men  playing  at  tables  by  an  inch  of 
candle  in  the  night  time,  and  being  very  earnest  in 
their  game,  the  candle  goeth  out,  and  they  perforce 
give  over,  who,  no  di)ubt,  if  the  light  had  lasted, 
would  have  played  all  night  very  willingly.  This 
inch  of  candle  is  the  time  of  life  allotted  to  a  wicked 
man,  who  is  resolved  to  spend  it  all  in  sinful 
pleasures  and  pastimes  ;  and  if  it  would  last  perpet- 
ually, he  would  never  leave  his  play  :  and,  there- 
fore, since  he  would  sin  eternally  (though  by  reason 
the  light  of  his  life  goeth  out,  he  cannot),  he 
deserveth  eternal  punish;nent.  — Jiic/iinus. 

(21S9.)  How  is  eternity  of  punishment  incon- 
sistent with  the  goodness  of  God.  Nay,  how  can 
God  be  good  without  it  ?  If  wickedness  always  re- 
main in  the  nature  of  man,  is  it  not  fit  the  rod 
should  always  remain  on  the  back  of  man?  Is  it  a 
want  of  goodness  that  keeps  an  incorrigible  ohender 
in  chains,  in  a  bridewell  ?  While  sin  remains,  it  is 
fit  it  should  be  punished. 

— Charnock,  1620- 1 680. 

6.  A  universal  amnesty  is  morally  inadmissible. 

(2190.)  A  third  objection  urges  that  God  should 
issue  a  universal  amnesty, — open  every  prison  door 
in  the  universe, — say  to  devils,  "  You  are  forgiven," 
and  to  lost  men,  "  Be  free."  This  would  be  con- 
sitlered  magnanimous  as  to  be  worthy  of  God.  The 
objection  is  not  without  plausibility.  Two  things, 
howevej,  appear  to  be  forgotten,     (i)  That  an  am- 


nesty could  not,  in  itself,  work  any  moral  change- 
Look  at  the  case  from  a  national  point  of  view. 
Suppose  that  the  monarch  were  to  proclaim  a 
universal  amnesty  :  would  the  thief,  the  murderer, 
the  incendiary,  or  any  other  criminal,  be  thereby 
constituted  a  virtuous  member  of  society?  Such  an 
amnesty,  instead  of  being  a  blessing,  would  be  a 
curse  ;  liberty  would  degenerate  into  licentiousness. 
If  the  insane  idea  of  a  universal  amnesty  were 
seriously  proposed,  all  virtuous  men  would  protest 
against  throwing  back  the  flood-gates  and  liberating 
torrents  of  crime.  What,  then,  would  God's  am- 
nesty do?  Would  a  demon  be  less  a  demon  on  one 
side  of  a  prison  door  than  on  another  ?  Does  the 
door  make  the  demon  ?  The  second  thing  that  is 
forgotten  by  the  objector  is  (2)  That  forgiveness  re- 
quires the  consent  of  two  parties.  The  term  "for- 
giveness" is  often  used  with  a  most  inadequate 
conception  of  its  meaning.  An  enemy  cannot  by  any 
act  of  so-called  forgiveness  be  turned  into  a  hiend. 

— Parker. 

6.  A  second  probation  Is  inconceivable. 

(2191.)  Is  it  suggested  that  a  second  probation 
might  meet  the  case  ?  A  second  probation  is  an 
impossibility ;  but  even  assuming  the  possibility, 
where  would  be  the  equity?  Give  men  to  know 
that  there  A^ould  be  a  second  probation,  and  how 
many  of  then«  would  care  for  the  first?  And  il 
they  neglect  the  first,  they  are  so  much  weaker  in 
moral  nerve  to  encounter  the  discipline  of  the  second. 
And  if  there  should  be  two  probations  why  not  thiee  ? 

"  But  say  I  could  repent,  and  could  obtain 
By  act  of  grace  my  former  state  ;  how  soon 
Would    height  recall  high  thoughts,  how   soon 

unsay 
What    feigned    submission    swore !    ease    would 

recant 
Vows  made  in  pain,  as  violent  and  void.  " 

How  do  men  legard  this  probationary  idea  as  it 
comes  up  in  the  concerns  of  daily  life?  There  is 
one  seed-time  in  the  year  ;  an  indolent  farmer  neg- 
lects it,  and  then  sets  up  the  theory  that  to  have 
only  an  annual  seed-time  is  ridiculous !  When 
poverty  comes  as  "  an  armed  man,  "  does  society 
pity  or  reproach  him  ?  It  may  be  suggested  that 
possibly  the  sufferings  might  have  a  good  effect 
upon  the  lost ;  it  might  cause  them  to  reflect  ;  it 
might  bring  them  to  repentance.  It  is  forgotten, 
however,  that  everything  has  been  done  for  them 
which  even  God  could  do  :  they  have  resisted  the 
whole  system  of  redeeming  love  ;  thrust  away  the 
bleeding  and  dying  Christ ;  and,  if  mere  suffering 
will  save  any  man,  God  has  made  a  stupendous 
mistake  in  sending  His  Son  to  save  sinners.  Hell 
would  then  be  more  successful  than  the  Son  of  God. 

— Farker. 

7.  The  fact  Is  not  affected  by  oui  belief  or  dls> 
belief. 

(2192.)  Human  opinions  and  human  feelings  have 
no  bearing  on  this  doctrine.  They  do  not,  they 
cannot  aftect  it.  The  Bible  travels  on  from  age  to 
age  bearing  the  same  fearful  doctrine,  and  is  un- 
changed in  its  warnings  and  appeals.  Some  of  each 
generation  listen,  are  admonished  ;  and  saved  ;— 
the  rest  pass  on  and  die.  Human  opinion  does  not 
alter  facts.  Human  opinion  does  not  remove  death- 
beds, and  graves,  and  sorrows,  nor  wdl  it  remove 
and  annihilate  the  world  of  woe.     Facts  stand  ub- 


GIFTS. 


(     374     ) 


GIFTS. 


affected  by  the  changes  of  human  belief ;  and  fear- 
ful events  roll  on  just  as  though  men  expected  them. 
Nine-tenths  of  all  the  dead  expected  not  to  die  at 
the  time  when  in  fact  they  have  died,  and  more  than 
half  now  listen  to  no  admonition  that  death  will  ever 
come.  1  hey  who  nave  died  had  an  expectation 
that  they  would  live  many  years.  liut  death  came. 
He  was  not  stayed  by  their  belief  or  unbelief:  he 
came  steadily  on.  Each  day  he  took  a  stride  to- 
wards them — and  step  by  step  he  advanced,  so  that 
they  could  not  retreat  or  evade  him  till  he  was  near 
enough  to  strike ;  and  they  fell.  And  so,  though 
the  living  will  not  hear,  death  comes  to  them.  And 
so  the  doom  of  the  sinner  rolls  on.  Each  day,  each 
hour,  each  moment  it  draws  near.  Whether  he 
believes  it  or  not  makes  no  difference  in  the  fact  : 
it  comes.  It  will  not  recede.  In  spite  of  all  at- 
tempts to  reason,  or  to  forget  it,  the  time  comes  ; 
and  at  the  appointed  time  the  sinner  dies.  Cavil 
and  ridicule  do  not  affect  this.  There  is  no  power 
in  a  joke  to  put  away  convulsions,  and  fevers,  and 
groans.  The  laugh  and  the  song  close  no  grave, 
and  put  back  none  of  the  sorrows  of  the  second 
death.  The  dwellers  in  Pompeii  could  not  put  back 
the  fires  of  the  volcano  by  derision,  nor  would  the 
mockery  of  the  inhabitants  of  Sodom  have  stayed 
the  sheets  of  flame  that  came  from  heaven.  The 
scoffing  sinner  dies;  and  is  lost  just  like  others; 
the  young  man  that  has  learned  to  cavil  and  deride 
religion  dies  just  like  others.  No  cavil  has  yet 
changed  a  fact ;  none  has  ever  stayed  the  arrow  of 
death.  — Barms. 


GIFTS. 

1.  Their  variety. 

(2193.)  There  is  not  greater  variety  of  colours, 
and  qualities  in  plants  and  flowers,  with  which 
the  earth  like  a  carpet  of  needle-work  is  variegated 
for  the  delight  and  service  of  man,  than  there  is  of 
gifts  in  the  minds  of  men,  natural  and  spiritual,  to 
render  them  useful  to  one  another,  both  in  civil 
societies  and  Christian  fellowship.  The  Christian, 
as  well  as  man,  is  intended  to  be  a  sociable  creature  ; 
and  for  the  better  managing  this  spiritual  common- 
wealth among  Christians,  God  doth  wisely  and 
graciously  provide  and  impart  gifts,  suitable  to  the 
place  every  one  stands  in  to  his  brethren  ;  as  the 
vessels  are  larger  or  less  in  the  body  natural,  accord- 
ing to  their  place  therein. 

—  Gurnall,    161 7-1679. 

(2194.)  As  no  key  can  open  all  locks,  so  no  one 
man  possesses  all  talents.  God  distributes  His  gifts 
according  to  His  holy  will,  this  to  one,  that  to 
another  ;  and  none  is  of  himself  sufficient  for  all 
emergencies,  and  independent  of  the  help  of  others. 
— Scriver,  1629-1693. 

(2195).  Amongst  the  trees  of  the  wood  there  is  a 
great  variety  :  the  sturdy  oak  ;  the  flexile  willow  ; 
the  solid  maple  ;  the  graceful  ash  ;  the  terraced 
cedar,  with  cones  up  sing  through  each  grassy- 
looking  lawn  of  tende.  leafery  ;  the  larch,  in  lieu 
of  bells  hanging  its  scarlet  blossoms  from  every 
pointed  arch  of  iis  green  pagoda ;  the  stiff  stout 
holly,  disdaiaful  of  the  breeze  ;  the  fidgety  aspen, 
all  in  a  flutter  at  the  faintest  sigh  ;  the  spacious 
chestnut,  enclasping  the  glebe  in  its  bountiful 
branches ;  the  strict  solemn  cypress,  with  every 
appressed   twiglet  pointing  straight  up  to  heaven. 


As  with  the  form,  so  with  the  bark  or  the  timber  ; 
the  ebony  sinking  like  stone,  the  cork  riding  on  liie 
crest  of  the  billow,  the  elder  so  soft  and  spongy,  t!:e 
box  in  his  firm  structure  retentive  of  the  finest  en- 
graving ;  the  homely  deal,  the  thyine  veneer  emulat- 
ing the  spots  of  the  panther  or  the  phnnes  of  the 
peacock — beautiful  some,  but  useful  all,  and  not  to 
be  interchanged  with  advantage.  An  ashen  bow 
would  be  no  better  than  a  yew-tree  lance.  You 
do  not  choose  the  fir  for  the  prince's  table,  and  even 
England's  oak  would  make  a  sorry  mast  for  "some 
great  animiral." 

Through  all  God's  kingdoms  we  trace  the  like 
variety,  and  still  we  find  it  when  we  rise  to  the 
minds  of  men.  There  is  endless  diversity  in  their 
nature,  and  for  every  form  and  style  abundant  use  ; 
and  it  is  best  when  they  are  not  transposed.  Mel- 
ancthon  would  have  made  a  poor  substitute  for 
Luther,  but  the  absence  of  Melancthon  would  have- 
left  a  poor  Reformation.  Great  as  was  the  inven- 
tion of  the  Sunday-school,  it  was  not  revealed  to 
Bishop  Butler,  but  was  reserved  for  Robert  Raikes ; 
and  yet  if  the  former  had  not  written  the  "Analogy," 
it  may  be  doubted  if  the  latter  could  have  supplied 
the  desideratum.  And  although  Jeremy  Taylor  and 
John  Bunyan  had  each  a  fine  fancy,  the  world  is 
now  agreed  that  if  they  had  changed  places  they 
could  have  made  it  no  better  ;  we  are  quite  content 
with  the  Pilgrim  of  the  one  and  the  Golden  Grove 
of  the  other.  — Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

(2196.)  The  plough  is  fatal  to  the  picturesque- 
A  country  under  husbandry,  with  its  farms  and  for- 
mal divisions,  each  field  throughout  its  whole  extent 
of  the  same  crop  and  colour,  with  all  God's  beauti- 
ful flowers  cut  down  and  cast  out  under  the  name 
of  weeds,  is  as  inferior  in  point  of  beauty  as  it  is 
superior  in  point  of  profit  to  moor  or  mountain. 
How  tame  your  levelled  fields  of  wheat  or  barley 
compared  with  the  rudest  hill-side,  where  green 
bracken,  and  the  plumes  of  the  fern,  and  the  bells 
of  the  foxglove,  and  brown  heath  with  its  purple 
blossoms,  and  the  hoar,  grey,  rugged  stones  that  lie 
scattered  in  wild  confusion,  unite  to  form  a  mantle, 
in  richness  and  variety  of  hues,  such  as  loom  never 
wove  and  queen  never  wore.  This  variety  should 
minister  to  more  than  taste.  A  pious  mind,  ex- 
tracting food  for  devotion  from  the  flowers  which 
supply  honey  to  the  bee,  finds  profit  where  others 
find  only  pleasure,  and,  rising  from  nature  up  to 
nature's  God,  exclaims  with  David,  "O  Lord,  how 
manifold  are  Thy  works !  in  wisdom  hast  Thou 
made  them  all  !" 

Without  this  variety,  how  tame  our  gardens  with 
every  flower  in  form  and  colour  the  counterpart  of 
another ;  and  how  monotonous  the  music  of  early 
morn  did  every  lark  in  the  sky,  linnet  in  the  bush, 
rook  and  ringdove  in  the  woods,  all  utter  the  same 
notes  !  But  variety  characterises  every  department 
of  nature.  Each  lamb  of  the  flock  has  a  bleat 
known  10  its  own  mother  ;  each  rose  on  the  Dush 
has  its  own  shape  and  shade  of  colour  ;  and  there  is 
not  a  lark  that  hangs  carolling  in  the  clouds  but  haa 
a  voice  recogniseil  by  the  brood  above  whose  grassy 
nest  she  sings  her  morriing  hymn,  calling  the 
drowsy  world  to  rise  for  worship  and  for  work. 
Nor  is  this  variety  anywhere  more  remarkable  than 
in  mankind.  It  is  calculated  that  there  are  ten 
hundred  millions  of  our  race  scattered  over  the  five 
continents  and  countless  islands  of  the  globe.  Now, 
wb'le  in  their  grand  characteristics,  in  their  feature*, 


GIFTS. 


(    375     ) 


GIFTS. 


organs,    voices,    limbs,    and  general  form  these  all 
resemble  each  other,   yet   tliere  are  not  two  faces, 
for   instance,    out  of  these    ten    hundred    millions, 
which  are  exactly  alike.      Nor  does  a  rich,  bound- 
less, divine  variety  characterise  and  adorn  only  this 
world  of  ours  in  the  living  creatures  of  its  lands  and 
seas,  the  shells  which  strew  its  shores,  the  flowers 
and  fruits  of  its  fertile  plains,  its  shaggy  mountains, 
up  to  their  snowy  crests.      It  shines  above  us— in 
stars  fixed   or   moving,  stars  single,  stars   in   pa  re, 
stars    in    clusters,   some  sparkling   with    borrowed, 
others  with  native  light ;  in  the  sun  that  runs  his 
daily    round,     and    comets,    that    with    fiery    locks 
streaming  out  behind  them  rush  away  into  darkness, 
nor  return  for  a  hundred,  perhaps  for  a  thousand 
years.      And    high    above    that    starry    firmament, 
amid    the    splendour   of    the    upper    sanctuary,    in 
angels  and  archangels,  in  cherubim  and  seraphim, 
in  saints  on  higher  thrones  and  crowns  of  brighter 
{jlory,    in   the   various   orders   of  unfallen   and   the 
various  honours  of  ransomed  spirits,  we  see  a  mani- 
fold and  magnificent  diversity  in  the  works  of  God. 
From  this  we  might  conclude  that  the  kingdom  of 
grace  would  present  something  of  the  same  variety 
as  that  which   distinguishes  all  His  other   works  ; 
and  that  as  neither  all   angels  nor  all   insects  are 
formed  alike,  no  more  would  all  Christians  be  so. 
And  thus  it  is  ;  for  variety  is  one  of  the  many  points 
at  which  the  kingdoms  of  grace  and  nature  touch. 
Christians  have  individual   peculiarities   which,   as 
■nuch  as  their   faces,    distinguish   them   from   each 
other  ;  and  this  is  rather  a  beauty  than  a  blemish — 
a  charm  rather  than  a  fault.      Some  have  one  grace 
and  some  another,  in  such  prominence,  that  John's 
love,  and  Peter's  ardour,  and  Paul's  zeal,  and  Job's 
patience,    and    Moses'    meekness,    and    Jeremiah's 
tenderness,  and  Abraham's  faitli,  have  become  pro- 
verbial.    Nor  is  this  variety,  as  among  the  flowers 
of  moor  and  meadow,  an  element  merely  of  beauty. 
It  is  a  power ;  an  element  of  the  highest  utility  in 
the    Church.       Hence    the    mistake   of  those    vvho 
would  have  all  Christians  modelled  on  their  own 
pattern,  as,  foi  example,   of  some  modest,  retiring, 
gentle  spirits,  who  cannot  appreciate  the  worth  and 
usefulness  of  those  whom  God  has  cast  in  a  rough 
mould  and  made  of  stern  stuff. 

In  the  early  ages  of  the  Church,  when  she  is 
endowed  with  supernatural  powers,  and  some  have 
the  gift  of  wisdom,  others  )f  knowledge,  others  of 
faith,  others  of  healing,  others  of  miracles,  others  of 
prophecy,  others  of  tongues,  others  of  interpretation, 
.  Paul,  by  a  beautiful  analogy,  recommends  mutual 
respect — illustrating  the  advantages  of  variety,  and 
showing  how  people  with  very  different  gifts  may 
nevertheless  be  true  members  of  Christ's  true 
Church.  "If  the  foot,"  he  says,  "shall  say,  Be- 
cause I  am  not  the  hand,  I  am  not  of  the  body  ;  is 
it  therefore  not  of  the  body  ?  And  if  the  ear  shall 
say.  Because  I  am  not  the  eye,  I  am  not  of  the 
body  ;  is  it  therefore  not  of  the  body  ?  If  the  whole 
body  were  an  eye,  where  were  the  hearing?  If  the 
whole  were  hearing,  where  were  the  smelling  ?  But 
now  God  hath  set  the  members  every  one  of  them 
in  the  body,  as  it  hath  pleased  Him.  And  if  they 
were  all  one  member,  where  were  the  body?  But 
now  they  are  many  members,  yet  but  one  body. 
And  the  eye  cannot  say  unto  the  hand,  I  have  no  need 
of  thee  :  nor  again,  the  head  to  the  feet,  I  have  no 
need  of  you."  We  live  in  an  age  of  ordinary  gifts  ; 
but  it  is  as  true  of  these  ordinary  as  of  those  extra- 
ordinary gifts  of  the  Spirit,  that  there  is  as  much 


utility  as  beauty  in  the  diverse  temperaments  and 
endowments  of  Christian  men.  What  is  diverse  is 
not  of  necessity  adverse.  God  has  different  kinds 
of  work  to  do  ;  and  since  He  chooses  to  employ 
men,  He  has  need  of  different  kinds  of  instruments. 

—  Guthrie, 

(2197.)  Men  have  different  spheres.  It  is  for 
some  to  evolve  great  moral  truths,  as  the  heavens 
evolve  stars,  to  guide  the  sailor  on  the  sea  and  the 
traveller  on  the  desert ;  and  it  is  for  some,  like  the 
sailor  and  the  traveller,  simply  to  be  guided. 

— Beecher, 

(2198.)  Such  people  forget  that  there  are  di- 
versities of  gifts.  He  who  taught  the  lark  to  trill, 
taught  the  eagle  to  scream  ;  He  who  moulded  the 
dewdrop  and  caused  it  to  hang  in  silence  on  the 
fringe  of  the  flower,  poured  out  the  boundless  sea 
and  caused  it  to  roar  night  and  day  as  if  uttering  the 
prayer  of  all  earthly  trouble.  We  should  allow 
more  for  all  this  marvellous  diversity.  The  foot  and 
hand,  the  eye  and  ear,  are  members  of  the  same 
body,  and  there  should  be  no  schism. 

— Joseph  Parker, 

2.  We  are  neither  to  envy  nor  to  despise  those 
whose  endowments  are  different  from  our  own. 

(2199.)  This  work  of  Christ's  House  is  varied  to 
different  individuals.  "The  Son  of  Man  gave  to 
every  one,"  that  is,  to  each  one,  his  work.  In  one 
respect  there  is  something  common  in  the  work  of 
all,  as  there  is  a  common  salvation,  "This  is  the 
work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  in  Him  whom  He 
hath  sent." — "This  is  the  will  of  God,  even  your 
sanctification."  We  have  said  this  is  common  work 
for  each  one,  and  yet  even  here  there  may  be 
variety  in  the  form.  There  is  a  different  colour  of 
beauty  in  different  stones  that  are  all  of  them 
precious.  One  man  may  be  burnishing  to  the 
sparkle  of  the  diamond,  while  another  is  deepening 
to  the  glow  of  the  ruby.  For  this  reason  there  are 
such  different  temperaments  in  Christian  character 
and  varying  circumstances  in  Christian  life,  that  the 
foundation  of  the  wall  of  the  city  may  be  garnished 
with  all  manner  of  precious  stones.  Each  Christian 
has  his  own  place  and  lustre  in  that  temple,  and 
therefore,  there  is  no  ground  to  disparage  our 
neighbour,  and  none  to  despair  of  ourselves,  if  we 
are  both  in  the  hand  of  Christ.  When  we  look 
from  the  individual  life  to  the  practical  work,  the 
variety  is  still  more  marked.  There  are  different 
members,  and  all  have  not  the  same  office.  Some 
are  there  to  teach — some  to  counsel  and  administer 
-some  to  tend  the  young — some  to  visit  the  sick- 
bed— some  to  conduct  the  temporal  affairs  of  the 
Church^some  to  be  liberal  givers  as  God  has 
prospered  them,  and  some,  without  any  formal 
mode  of  action,  come  under  this  description,  which 
applies  to  them  all  :  "  Sons  of  God,  without  rebuke, 
shining  as  lights  in  the  world,  holding  forth  the 
Word  of  Life."  It  is  very  beautiful  to  see  how 
the  God  who  has  bound  His  world  into  a  grand 
harmony  by  its  very  diversity,  has  arranged  for  this 
same  end  in  His  Church,  by  giving  the  members 
their  different  faculties  of  work  ; — how  the  pure  light 
that  comes  from  the  sun  breaks  into  its  separate 
hues  when  it  touches  the  palace-house  of  Christ, 
with  its  varied  cornices  and  turrets,  till  every  colour 
lies  in  tranquil  beauty  beside  its  fellow.  If  it  is 
not  so  it  should  be  so  ;  and  as  the  Church  grows  it 


GIFTS. 


(     376    ) 


GIFTS. 


will  be  so.  Use  and  ornament,  the  corner-stone  and 
the  cope-stone,  sliall  both  be  felt  to  have  tlieir  due 
place.  To  see  how  this  may  be,  is  to  perceive 
that  an  end  can  be  put  to  all  jealousies  and  heart- 
burnings, and  may  help  us  even  now  to  take  our 
position  calmly  and  unenviously,  working  in  our 
department,  assured  that  our  labour  sliall  be  found 
to  contribute  to  the  full  proportion  of  the  whole 

—Ker. 

(2200.)  All  men  cannot  work  in  the  same  way. 
"There  are  diversities  of  operation."  Upon  the 
face  of  a  watch  you  may  see  an  illustration  of  my 
meaning.  On  that  small  space  you  have  three 
workers:  there  is  the  second-pointer,  performing 
rapid  evolutions  ;  there  is  the  minute-pointer, 
going  at  a  greatly  reduced  speed  ;  and  there  is  the 
hour-pointer,  tardier  still.  Now,  any  one  un- 
acquainted with  the  mechanism  of  a  watch  would 
conclude  that  the  busy  little  second-pointer  was 
doing  all  the  work  ;  it  is  clicking  away  at  sixty 
times  the  speed  of  the  minute-pointer  ;  and  as  for 
the  hour-hand,  (hat  seems  to  be  doing  no  work  at 
all.  You  can  see  in  a  moment  that  the  first  is  busy, 
and  in  a  short  time  you  will  see  the  second  stir; 
but  you  must  wait  still  longer  to  assure  yourself  of 
the  motion  of  the  third.  So  is  it  in  the  Church. 
Tliere  are  active,  fussy  men,  who  appear  to  be 
^oing  the  work  of  the  whole  community,  and  others 
.vho  are  slower.  But  can  we  do  without  the 
minute  and  hour-pointer?  The  noisy  second-hand 
mi^jht  go  round  its  little  circle  for  ever,  without 
telling  the  world  the  true  time.  We  should  be 
thankful  for  all  kinds  of  workers.  The  silent, 
steady  hour  hand  need  not  envy  its  noisy  little 
colleague.  Every  man  must  fill  the  measure  of  his 
capacity.  Your  business  is  to  do  your  allotted 
work  so  as  to  meet  the  approbation  of  the  Master. 
— Joseph  Parker. 

3.  Every  man  should  devote  himself  to  the  task 
for  which  he  is  peculiarly  qualified. 

(2201.)  Sanguine  and  non-sympathetic  natures 
insist  not  only  that  every  one,  if  he  likes,  may  do 
the  things  which  they  do,  but  may  do  so  easily.  To 
a  man  like  Lord  Thurlow,  coarse  and  conteniiHuous 
of  mankind,  it  must  have  been  a  simple  amazement 
when  his  kinsman  Covvper  resigned  the  clerkship  of 
the  Lords  because  he  had  not  courage  to  read  aloud 
minutes  and  petitions ;  but  although  the  brazen 
Chancellor  was  a  stranger  to  ail  trepidation,  and  it 
would  have  cost  him  no  effort  to  read  his  own 
rhymes  to  the  peers  of  Parnassus,  it  may  be  ques- 
tioned if,  even  to  secure  the  Great  Seal,  he  could 
have  written  the  "Task  "  or  "John  Gilpin."  And 
although  nothing  can  be  more  true  than  that  talents 
increase  by  trading,  it  is  also  true  that  tlieir  right 
investment,  the  sort  of  trade  best  suited  to  each 
merchantman,  is  indicated  by  the  natural  turn  or 
taculty  ;  and  we  shall  serve  God  and  our  genera- 
tion best  by  turning  to  account  the  gift  which  He 
Himself  has  given.  You  who  are  fond  of  children, 
as  most  frank,  true  natures  are,  give  yourself  to 
teaching;  and  you  who  have  a  fervid  forceful  spirit, 
and  find  that  spirit  stirred  by  the  state  of  our  god- 
less multitude,  go  out  into  the  highways  and  hedges 
and  compel  them  to  come  in.  And  you  who  cannot 
arrest  or  keep  the  children's  ear,  and  to  whom 
Ought  like  preaching  would  be  useless  martyrdom, 
seek  out  some  other  ministry,  consecrate  the 
business  talent,  and  in  the  savings'  bank  or  provi- 


dent fund,  in  the  committee  or  council  of  the 
Church,  "  rule  with  diligence."  Or,  go  forth  and 
visit.  The  tired  watcher  in  the  sickroom  relea^.c 
for  a  few  hours  of  needful  slumber.  Take  to  the 
bed-rid  child  some  plaything,  to  the  destitue  family 
some  comfort.  And  whether  you  offer  the  brief 
prayer  or  read  the  words  of  Jesus  to  the  invalid, 
"  show  mercy  with  cheerfulness  ;  "  try  to  do  it  as  if 
you  came  and  went  in  Christ's  own  company,  and 
then,  long  after  you  have  left,  the  consolation  will 
remain. 

It  is  thus  that  by  each  following  out  his  own  line 
of  things  the  world's  best  work  has  been  done,  and 
in  the  free  development  and  loving  consecration  of 
gifts,  the  Church  has  exhibited  a  diversity  both  use- 
ful and  beautiful.  It  was  thus  that  wherever  John 
Macdonald  went  in  perambulating  the  Highlands, 
a  wave  of  spiritual  influence  went  with  him  ;  and  it 
was  thus  that,  like  a  Baptist  and  a  beloved  disciple 
combined,  George  Whitefield  startled  and  melted 
all  England.  It  is  thus  that  in  our  own  day  one 
Christian  lady  has  sought  out  the  prisoned,  and 
another  has  softened  and  civilised  the  neglected 
navvy,  and  a  third  has  mended  "ragged  homes," 
and  a  fourth  has  invented  the  Bible  and  Domestic 
Mission,  and  a  fifth  has  rallied  to  the  task  of  nurs- 
ing so  arduous  yet  so  angel-like  the  refined  and  well 
trained  amongst  her  countrywomen.  And  it  is  thus 
that  in  an  employment  however  commonplace,  and 
in  a  corner  however  inconspicuous,  if  you  take  up 
the  task  which  your  hand  finds  to  do,  and  throw 
into  it  the  might  which  God  gives,  the  result  will  be 
genuine,  solid,  enduring.  Let  each  do  his  own  work 
in  his  own  v/ay,  and  as  all  good  woik  is  God's,  you 
will  soon  see  a  more  beautiful. Church  and  a  better 
world.  — Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

4.  Entail  responsibility. 

(2202.)  The  husbandman  looks  for  more  fruit 
from  some  of  his  fruit-trees  than  from  others  ;  those 
upon  which  he  bestows  most  time,  cost,  and  labour, 
from  these  he  expects  most  fruit  ;  and  is  displeased 
if  his  expectation  be  not  answered  accordingly. 

This  shadows  out  unto  us  that  God  expects  greater 
returns  of  duty  from  some  persons  than  from  some 
others,  and  neglect  thereof  provokes  God  against 
them. 

In  the  ceremonial  law  God  required  more  sacri- 
fices from  the  rich  than  from  the  poor :  such  as  had 
great  store  of  oxen,  sheep,  and  other  things  to  be 
oflered  in  sacrifice,  should  not  have  been  accepted 
had  they  offered  "a  pair  of  turtle  doves,  or  two 
young  pigeons,"  which  yet  were  accepted  from  the 
poorer  sort  of  persons.  So  also  under  the  gospel, 
"  to  whom  much  is  given,  of  them  doth  He  require 
the  more."  God  had  done  great  things  for  Eli,  and 
David,  and  exj^iected  (accordingly)  greater  returns 
of  duty  and  obedience  all  their  lives  after  ;  but  they 
failing  in  some  great  particulars,  God  is  sore  dis- 
pleased with  them,  and  reckons  up  the  great  bene- 
fits and  particular  engagements  they  had  received, 
and  tells  them  he  expected  other  returns  from  them. 
So  also  Hezekiah  received  much,  and  God  looked 
for  answerable  returns  ;  but  he  rendered  not  accord- 
ing to  the  benefits  received,  and  God  was  displeased 
with  him  upon  that  account. 

God  planted  a  vineyard,  and  bestowed  much  Ci.re 
and  pains  about  it,  and  looked  for  an  answerable 
return  of  good  fruits,  but  because  it  brought  forth 
wild  grapes  instead  of  good  and  pleasant  grapes. 
He  laid  it  waste.     Some  have  received  more,  and 


GIFTS. 


(     377     ) 


GIFTS. 


lie  under  greater  engagements  from  God  than  others, 
therefore  God  looks  to  receive  more.  This  shows 
us  the  great  danger  such  persons  lie  under  who 
have  received  much  from  God,  and  return  but 
little  ;  having  received  many  talents,  and  not  making 
an  answerable  return  by  improving  of  them  to  the 
nonour  of  God  and  advantage  of  His  people  ;  nay, 
who  perhaps  use  all  against  God  and  His  people. 
God  gives  to  some  many  gifts  of  nature  and  common 
graces,  much  knowledge,  learning,  wisdom,  great 
riches,  honours,  offices,  places,  much  time,  liberty, 
great  and  choice  means  of  grace,  special  providences, 
and  dispensations,  and  many  other  talents  which 
others  have  not  :  of  these  Ciod  requires  more  than 
of  those  who  have  fewer  and  less  of  these  things, 
and  the  not  making  suitable  returns  provokes 
God  against  them. 

If  God  spared  not  His  choice  servants,  Eli, 
David,  Hezekiah,  &c.,  if  judgment  begin  at  the 
house  of  God,  how  shall  the  ungodly  and  sinner 
escape  ?  Let  every  one  of  us  consider  what  we 
have  received,  that  so  we  may  make  unto  God  some 
answerable  returns  :  God  looked  for  more  (and 
received  more)  from  him  that  had  the  five  talents, 
than  from  him  that  had  received  but  two. 

No  one  (not  the  lowest,  or  meanest)  is  freed  from 
making  returns  of  duty  to  God  :  though  God  re- 
quires much  from  those  who  have  received  much, 
yet  the  mean  person,  who  has  but  a  little,  must 
return  of  that  little.  "  Let  him  work  with  his 
hands,  that  he  may  have  something  to  give  to  him 
that  needeth  ;  "  and  it  will  be  "accepted  according 
to  that  a  man  hath,  and  not  according  to  that  he 
hath  not."  So,  also,  of  the  use  and  improvements 
of  all  other  talents,  gifts,  graces,  liberty,  power,  and 
the  rest.  — Austen. 

6.  To  whom  they  are  a  blessing. 

(2203.)  As  the  high  hills  after  much  tillage  are 
often  barren,  whereas  the  low  valleys,  by  the  streams 
of  waters  passing  through  them,  are  very  fruitful ; 
even  so  the  gifts  of  God  joined  with  a  swelling  heart 
are  fruitless,  but  joined  with  love  and  the  grace  of 
humility  they  edify.  — Cawdray,  1609, 

6.  For  what  purpose  they  are  to  be  used. 

(2204. )  Good  parts  employed  ill  are  weapons  that, 
being  meant  for  our  own  defence,  we  madly  turn 
their  edges  and  wound  ourselves  :  they  might  make 
me  fair  in  show,  but  in  substance  more  polluted  : 
they  would  be  but  a  saddle  of  gold  to  the  back  of 
a  galled  horse ;  adorn  me  they  might,  better  me 
they  could  not.  — FelUham,  1668. 

(2205.)  Every  man  should  use  his  intellect,  not 
as  those  who  study  in  their  libraries,  when  all  the 
world  is  asleep,  use  their  lamps,  for  theii  own 
seeing  only  ;  but  as  lighthouses  use  their  lanterns, 
that  those  who  are  far  off  upon  the  deep  rriay  see 
the  shining,  and  learn  their  way.  God  appoints 
our  graces  to  be  nurses  to  other  men's  weaknesses. 

— Beecher. 

(2206.)  Is  there  not  danger  that  powers,  capable 
of  conferring,  and  therefore  intended  to  confer, 
great  benefits  on  our  brethren  and  the  Church 
of  Christ,  may  be  left  to  slumber  amidst  the  quiet 
enjoyment  of  literary  leisure  :  and  that  a  life,  envied 
by  others,  and  not  without  its  gratifications,  may 
be  as  profitless,  and  not  much  less   selfish   than 


that  of  the  covetous  or  of  the  voluptuary  ?  Here, 
indeed,  in  the  pursuits  of  learning  and  science, 
intellect  trains  its  faculties  and  finds  its  weapons. 
But  he  would  be  an  ill  workman  who  was  ever 
sharpening  the  tools  he  never  used  .  nor  would 
he  be  worthy  of  a  warrior's  name,  who  sat  at 
home,  while  the  enemy  was  in  the  field,  polishing 
over  again  his  untried  armour,  and  pleased  with 
the  graceful  drooping  of  his  plume.  And  when 
God  has  given  powers  of  genius  to  discover,  or 
of  reasoning  to  defend,  or  of  imagination  to  illus- 
trate the  truth,  v/here  there  are  faculties  and 
personal  endowments,  no  less  than  station  and 
opportunities  to  influence,  to  persuade,  to  origi- 
nate or  advance  plans  of  good,  and  to  carry  on 
God's  work  of  regenerating  and  blessing  this  fallen 
world ;  and  all  are  allowed  to  terminate  m  the 
tranquil  enjoyment  of  aimless,  and  perhaps,  desul- 
tory study,  or  are  concentrated  with  misplaced 
industry  on  some  trifling  and  fruitless  object  :  it 
can  hardly  be  without  misgiving  and  uneasy  fear 
that  the  approach  can  be  regarded  of  that  awful 
day,  when  the  hidden  talent  shall  condemn  its 
owner,  and  when  not  to  have  done  good  will  rank 
the  careless,  indolent,  and  self-indulgent,  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  Judge,  together  with  the  workers 
of  iniquity.  — jfacksoit. 

(2207.)  In  a  little  village  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Carmel  lived  a  wise  man,  to  whom  the  Spirit 
of  God  had  given  the  power  to  comfort  and  to 
heal.  He  went  into  every  dwelling  where  a  sick 
man  was  lying,  and  healed  him,  or  he  comforted 
and  strengthened  the  dying  with  gentle  words, 
and  soothed  the  complaints  of  those  that  wept , 
for  he  knew  the  hidden  power  of  salutary  herbs, 
as  he  knew  the  hearts  of  men,  though  he  had 
hardly  attained  to  manhood.  Therefore  he  was 
loved  by  all  men ;  each  one  besought  him  to 
come  to  his  dwelling,  and  his  fame  was  spread 
far  and  wide. 

But  behold,  there  came  from  the  land  of  Mizraim 
a  pestilence  into  the  village  of  Mount  Carmel  and 
the  adjacent  country,  and  many  people  fell  sick  and 
died,  for  it  was  a  grievous  pestilence.  But  where- 
soever any  one  fell  sick  of  the  evil  disease,  they 
sent  for  the  wise  man,  that  he  might  come  to  heal 
and  to  console  by  day  and  by  night. 

Then  his  strength  failed  him  ;  and  his  soul  was 
troubled,  because  the  pestilence  was  often  mightier 
than  the  strength  of  his  art  and  of  the  medicinal 
herbs,  and  he  began  to  fear  for  his  own  life.  For 
he  wanted  humility,  the  crown  of  wisdom,  so  that 
he  trusted  in  himself  and  in  his  knowledge,  but  not 
in  the  Lord. 

Then  the  Spirit  led  him  forth  to  Mount  Carmel, 
and  he  doubted  in  himself  if  he  should  remain  in 
the  mountain  and  not  return,  or  whether  he  should 
gather  salutary  herbs  and  plants  for  the  comfort 
and  refreshment  of  the  sick.  So  he  went,  and 
said  in  his  heart:  "Nature  has  been  my  guide 
from  the  days  of  my  youth.  Therefore  now  she 
shall  teach  me  what  to  do,"  He  was  standing 
before  a  flower,  more  beautiful  in  its  bloom  than 
Solomon  in  all  his  glory.  Then  he  said  :  "This 
flower,  with  all  her  beauty  and  fresh  young  charms, 
blooms  only  for  herself;  she  opens  her  blossom 
to  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  the  breeze,  which  comes 
from  the  west  over  the  sea.  What  should  man  do 
more,  but  live  for  himself,  without  caring  for  others? 
I  will  remain  on  Mount  Carmel  and  bloom  among 


GIFTS. 


(    378    ) 


GIFTS. 


the  flowers,  till,  when  my  race  is  run,  I  fade  at  last 
like  a  flower,  impciceptibly  and  gently. 

Now  a  butterfly  flutteied  over  the  flower.  He 
beheld  it,  and  said  :  "No,  thou  dost  teach  me 
another  thing,  I  will  return  to  mankind,  to  the 
great  and  rich  cities ;  I  will  go  into  the  palaces,  to 
earn  the  sweet  fruit  of  joy  and  ]ileasure  from  my 
knowledge.  As  the  butterfly  hovers  over  the  grace- 
ful flower,  thus  my  life  shall  spread  itself  over  my 
arts." 

Saying  this,  he  bent  over  the  flower.  Behold, 
there  was  a  dead  bee  in  the  calyx.  Too  heavily 
laden  with  the  delicate  dust,  she  had  breathed  forth 
her  little  soul,  in  the  midst  of  her  labours. 

He  beheld,  and  gazed  silently  on  the  lifeless  form 
of  the  insect,  while  the  deep  crimson  of  shame 
mantled  his  cheek.  "Spirit  of  the  Lord,"  ex- 
claimed he  at  last,  "  I  acknowledge  Thee  in 
Nature;  pardon  my  anger  and  my  folly!  From 
henceforth  I  will  follow  Thee,  and  return,  a  faith- 
fill  disciple,  to  Thee  and  my  calling," 

Then  lie  collected  the  rarest  plants  and  herbs  of 
the  mountain,  and  went  humbly  and  with  cheerful 
countenance  back  to  the  village,  to  the  dwellings  of 
the  sufferers,  — I'.  A.  Kruinmacher, 

7.  How  they  are  to  be  valued. 

(2208.)  The  apostle  considered  that  gift  most 
desirable  by  which  men  might  most  edify  one 
another.  And  hence  that  noble  declaration  of  one 
of  the  most  gifted  of  mankind:  "I  had  rather 
speak  five  words  with  my  understanding,  that  I 
might  teach  others  also,  than  ten  thousand  words 
in  an  unknown  tongue," 

Our  estimate  is  almost  the  reverse  of  this :  we 
value  a  gift  in  proportion  to  its  rarity,  its  distinctive 
character,  separating  its  possessor  from  the  rest  of 
his  fellowmen ;  whereas,  in  truth,  those  gifts  which 
leave  us  in  lonely  majesty  apart  from  our  species, 
useless  to  them,  benefiting  ourselves  alone,  are 
not  the  most  godlike,  but  the  least  so ;  because 
they  are  dissevered  from  that  beneficent  charity 
which  is  the  very  being  of  God.  Your  lofty  un- 
communicable  thoughts,  your  ecstasies,  and  aspira- 
tions, and  contemplative  raptures — in  virtue  of 
which  you  have  estimated  yourself  as  the  porcelain 
of  the  earth,  of  another  nature  altogether,  than  the 
clay  of  common  spirits — tried  by  the  test  of  Charity  ; 
what  is  there  grand  in  these  if  they  cannot  be 
applied  as  blessings  to  those  that  are  beneath  you  ? 
One  of  our  countrymen  had  achieved  for  himself 
extraordinary  scientific  renown ;  he  pierced  the 
mysteries  of  nature,  he  analysed  her  processes,  he 
gave  new  elements  to  the  world.  The  same  man 
applied  his  rare  intellect  to  the  construction  of  a 
simple  and  very  common  instrument — that  well- 
known  lamp  which  has  been  the  guardian  of  the 
miner's  life  from  the  explosion  of  fire.  His  dis- 
coveries are  his  nobility  in  this  world,  his  trifling 
invention  gives  him  rank  in  the  world  to  come. 
By  the  former  he  shines  as  one  of  the  brightest 
luminaries  in  the  firmament  of  science,  by  the  latter, 
evincing  a  spirit  animated  and  directed  by  Christian 
love,  he  takes  his  place  as  one  of  the  Church  of 
God, 

And  such  is  ever  the  true  order  of  rank  which 
graces  occupy  in  reference  to  gifts.  The  most 
trifling  act  which  is  marked  by  usefulness  to  others 
is  nobler  in  God's  sight  than  the  most  brilliant 
accomplishment  of  genius.  To  teach  a  few  Sunday- 
achool    children,   week  after    week,    commonplace 


simple  truths — persevering  in  spite  of  dulness  and 
mean  capacities— is  a  more  glorious  occupation  than 
the  highest  meditations  or  creations  of  genius  which 
edify  or  instruct  only  our  own  solitary  soul, 

—F.  W.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

8.  Are  not  to  be  gloried  In, 

(2209.)  How  nimbly  does  that  little  lark  mount 
up,  singing  towards  heaven  in  a  right  line  ! 
whereas  the  hawk,  which  is  stronger  of  body  and 
swifter  of  wing,  towers  up  by  many  gradual  com- 
passes to  his  highest  pitch.  That  bulk  of  body  and 
length  of  wing  hinder  a  direct  ascent,  and  require 
the  help  both  of  air  and  scope  to  advance  his 
flight  ;  while  the  small  bird  cuts  the  air  without 
resistance,  and  needs  no  outward  furtherance  of  her 
motion. 

It  is  no  otherwise  with  the  souls  of  men  in  flying 
up  to  their  heaven.  Some  are  hindered  by  those 
powers  which  would  seem  helps  to  their  soaring  up 
thither  :  great  wit,  deep  judgment,  quick  apprehen- 
sion, send  about  men,  with  no  small  labour,  for  the 
recovery  of  their  own  incumbrance  ;  while  the  good 
affections  of  plain  and  simple  souls  raise  them  up 
immediately  to  the  fruition  of  God.  Why  should 
we  be  proud  of  that  which  may  slacken  our  way  to 
glory?  Why  should  we  be  disheartened  with  the 
small  measure  of  that,  the  verj'  want  whereof  may 
(as  the  heart  may  be  affected)  facilitate  our  way  to 
happiness?  — Hall,  15  74- 1656, 

(2210,)  When  Solomon  observes  that  there  is 
"  no  remembrance  of  the  wise  more  than  of  the 
fool  for  ever,"  it  is  evidently  not  of  the  wise  man's 
mere  name  he  designs  to  speak.  The  name  may 
be  remembered  while  the  man  and  his  works  are, 
to  all  practical  purposes,  forgotten.  The  world 
goes  on  just  as  if  he  had  never  been.  The  space  he 
filled,  when  alive,  was  so  large,  his  influence  made 
itself  felt  in  so  many  ways  — his  skilful  and  weighty 
hand  touched  and  regulated  so  many  of  the  springs 
that  animate  and  govern  human  affairs,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  his  death  must  bring  society  to  a 
stand.  And  yet  the  grave  has  scarcely  closed  over 
his  mortal  remains,  when  the  place  that  knew  him 
knows  him  no  more.  As  the  setting  of  the  mid- 
night moon  brings  stars  into  view,  whose  feebler 
rays  were  quenched  before,  even  so  does  it  come  to 
pass  that  names  which  the  wise  man's,  while  it 
shone,  threw  into  the  shade,  now  take  their  place 
in  the  social  firmament  ;  and,  though  the  light  be 
less,  the  world  moves  on  under  it,  as  if  none  better 
or  brighter  had  been  ever  known,  "Let  not, 
therefore,  the  wise  man  glory  in  his  wisdom,  neither 
let  the  mighty  man  glory  in  his  might,  let  not  the 
rich  man  glory  in  his  riches  :  but  let  him  that 
glorieth  glory  in  this,  that  he  understandeth  and 
knoweth  Me,  that  I  am  the  Lord  which  exercise 
lovingkindness,  judgment,  and  righteousness  in 
the  earth  :  for  in  these  things  I  delight,  saith  the 
Lord,"  — Buchanan. 

9,  Are  not  tlie  hlgbest  good. 

(221 1.)  Gifts  do  not  commend  us  nor  our  services 
to  God. 

When  you  have  good  meat  in  a  dish,  possibly 
you  will  lay  flowers  upon  it,  cut  oranges  and  lemons 
and  lay  upon  the  side  of  the  dish  ;  but  a  wise  man 
knows  that  the  meat  is  never  the  better  for  these 
flowers,  or  for  the  sugar  that  lies  on  the  s:'de  of  the 


GTFTS. 


(   yi^ 


GIFTS. 


platter  ;  a  wise  man  knows  that  if  those  were  want- 
ing, the  meat  were  never  the  worse. 

Bek)ved  !  God  our  Father  is  of  infinite  wisdom  : 
parts  and  gifts  are  flowers  indeed,  and  they  help  to 
cook  out  a  duty,  and  to  make  it  more  acceptable 
to  men,  but  tlie  Lord,  who  is  Wisdom,  knows  that 
the  duty  is  never  the  better  for  them  ;  and  He  knows 
that  when  these  flowers  are  wanting,  the  duty  is 
never  the  worse.  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

10.  Are  not  an  unmixed  good. 

(2212.)  Joseph's  coat  made  him  finer  than  his 
brethren,  but  it  caused  all  his  trouble  ;  so  great  gifts 
lift  a  saint  up  a  little  higher  in  the  eyes  of  men, 
but  they  occasion  many  trials,  from  which  thou 
who  art  low  art  exempt. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

11.  Are  not  Identical  "witli  grace. 

(2213.)  It  is  not  every  prayer  evidenceth  God's 
Spirit  in  us.  Such  as  have  no  grace  may  excel  in 
gifts,  and  affect  the  hearts  of  others  in  prayer,  when 
their  own  hearts  are  not  affected  ;  as  the  lute  makes 
a  sweet  sound  in  the  ears  of  others,  but  itself  is  not 
sensible.  — VVaison,  1696. 

(2214.)  Sin,  in  the  reign  and  power  of  it,  may  co- 
habit with  the  most  excellent  natural  gifts  under  the 
same  roof,  I  mean  in  the  same  heart.  A  man  may 
have  the  tongue  of  an  angel,  and  the  heart  of  a 
devil.  The  learned  Pharisees  were  but  painted 
5e]5ulchres.  Gifts  are  but  as  a  fair  glove  drawn  over 
a  loul  hand.  — Flavel,  1627-1691. 

(2215.)  As  among  the  weeds  of  unmanured  earth 
some  are  painted  with  alluring  colours,  but  they 
are  only  weeds  still ;  so  among  the  fruits  of  un- 
sanctified  minds  one  may  carry  a  more  specious 
appearance  than  others  ;  but  they  are  all,  spiritually 
considered,  no  other  still  than  sins  and  vices,  the 
growth  of  "  the  carnal  mind,  which  is  enmity 
against  God."  — Salter,  1840. 

12.  Apart  from  grace  will  but  insure  our  con- 
demnation. 

(22 1 6. )  Though  a  man  have  never  such  parts  and 
gifts,  yet  if  he  have  not  grace  withal,  he  may  go  to 
hell  and  perish  to  all  eternity  ;  for  by  his  gilts  he  is 
not  united  to  Jesus  Christ,  nor  made  the  child  of 
God,  nor  estated  into  the  covenant  of  grace  (Matt. 
vii.  21-23).  ^ou  see  how  it  is  with  children  play- 
ing in  the  day, — when  night  comes,  one  child  goes 
to  his  father,  and  the  other  to  his  father  ;  it  may  be 
all  the  day  they  are  so  like  that  you  cannot  say, 
whose  child  is  this,  or  that  :  but  when  night  comes, 
the  father  then  comes  to  his  child,  and  says,  "  Come, 
my  child,  come  in  doors  : "  and  if  the  other  offers 
to  go  in  there,  "No,  child,  you  must  go  home  to 
your  father."  So,  while  we  are  living,  grace  and 
gifts  are  mingled  together  ;  some  men  have  gifts, 
and  some  men  have  graces,  and  they  look  very 
like  :  ah,  but  when  night  comes,  and  when  death 
comes,  then  says  God  to  those  that  have  grace, 
"  Come,  my  children,  enter  in  ; "  but  if  those  that 
have  gifts  only  come.  He  sends  them  away.  And 
if  a  man  do  go  to  hell  and  perish,  the  more  gifts  he 
has  the  deeper  will  he  sink  into  hell.  As  it  is 
with  a  man  that  is  in  the  water,  sinking  in  the 
water,  the  more  he  is  laden  with  gold  the  more  he 
sinks,  and  as  he  is  sinking,  if  he  have  any  time  to 
cry  out,  he  says,  "Oh  take  away  these  bags  of  gold. 


hese  bags  of  gold  will  sink  me,  they  will  undo 
me  :  "  so  I  say,  these  golden  parts  and  golden  gifts 
will  undo  men  ;  when  men  come  to  hell,  and  shall 
perish  indeed,  the  more  golden  gifts  and  parts  they 
have  had,  the  deeper  they  shall  sink  in  hell. 

— Ambrose,  1592-1644. 

13.  Are  less  Influential  than  grace. 

(2217.)  Of  course,  the  operation  of  God  on  hu- 
man souls  must  be  proportioned  to  their  capacity  ; 
it  is  not  every  nature  that  can  be  divinely  gifted  :  a 
piece  of  hollow  stick  may  be  put  into  the  ground, 
and  left  to  all  the  gracious  influences  of  sun  and 
shower,  of  dew,  and  the  spring  and  autumn  seasons, 
but  it  will  never  be  a  tree  :  and  the  nettle  and  the 
briar,  however  they  may  be  trained,  can  never  be 
jasmine  or  oak.  There  are  souls  too  narrow  in 
their  spring  and  their  foundation  to  have  much 
opened  in  them,  still  less  to  open  the  natures  or 
minds  of  others.  God's  mightiest  work  must  be 
done  by  largest  souls;  and  wlen  there  is  a  soul  in 
which  already  has  been  awal<ened  all  that  native 
genius  can  awaken  by  delicate  sympathies,  and  a 
power  to  unwind  the  flexible  harmonies  of  our  being; 
when  you  find  the  lofty  judgment,  and  the  stately 
march  of  thought,  and  the  overflowing  language, 
and  the  happy  imagery,  and  then  superadd  to  all 
these,  and  fill  all  these  with  the  force  and  power  of 
divine  genius,  how  mighty  then  becomes  the  char- 
acter !  Before,  the  power  was  existent  but  unde- 
veloped, but  pieiv — holiness — develops  power.  The 
truth  is,  the  quality  of  holy  and  unholy  genius  is 
different.  The  masters  of  criticism  might  institute 
a  comparison  between  the  genius  of  Homer  and 
David ;  but  the  nature  of  the  inspiration  introduces 
an  essential  difference  into  all  our  estimates  of  the 
men.  The  genius  kindled  from  the  altar  of  nature 
is  one,  and  the  genius  kindled  from  the  altar  of  God 
is  another.  I  must  and  do  maintain  this,  the  writ- 
ings of  all  heathendom  essentially  differ  from  the 
writings  of  our  Holy  Scriptures  in  the  quality  of  the 
thoughts  and  the  emotions  communicated  ;  and,  at 
all  times,  the  smaller  and  more  limited  genius, 
inflamed  by  holiness,  is  able  to  open  things  to  us 
far  more  wonderful  than  the  unhallowed  flight  of 
the  most  lofty  spirit.  Let  any  man,  as  an  illustra- 
tion of  this,  contrast  the  writings  of  Watts  and 
Byron.  Byron  was  a  man  the  native  majesty  of 
wliose  genius  leaves  Watts  far  behind  ;  but  never 
will  Byron's  power  equal  that  of  the  sweet  singer  cf 
Stoke  Newington.  — R.  Paxton  Hood. 

14  The  greatest  gifts  do  not  render  us  Indis- 
pensAble  to  the  Church  or  the  world. 

(2218.)  It  is  a  humbling  lesson  to  human  vanity, 
and  tends  to  check  the  growth  of  self-importance, 
to  consider  how  well  the  world  will  go  on  when  we 
are  laid  in  the  dust  and  no  longer  partake  in  the 
direction  of  its  affairs.  Leaves  fall  in  autumn  ;  trees 
are  felled  in  the  spring  ;  but  the  next  vernal  season 
renews  the  foliage  ;  another  age  replaces  the  veteran 
oak  removed  by  the  axe  or  the  tempest,  and  the 
forest  still  presents  its  broad  expanse  and  deep 
shade  to  the  eye  of  the  traveller.  So  it  is  with  tl>e 
Church  of  God  ;  its  members  and  its  ministers  die, 
but  01  hers  are  baptized  for  the  dead,  and  fill  up  their 
vacant  seats  in  the  spiritual  house.  — James. 

(2219.)  Christ  can  do  much  by  the  weakest  in- 
strument, and  He  can  do  altogether  without  the 
strongest.      "It   is  a  piece   of  divine  royalty  and 


GOD. 


(     380     ) 


GOD. 


magnificence,"  said  John  Howe,  "that  when  He 
hath  prepared  and  polished  a  mighty  instrument, 
so  as  to  be  capable  of  some  great  service,  He  can 
lay  it  aside  without  loss,  and  do  as  well  without  it." 
He  that  could  do  without  apostles  and  prophets, 
after  He  had  removed  them  by  death,  can  dispense 
with  us.  We  are  none  of  us  axles  of  His  chariot 
wheels.  This  should  check  the  inflation  of  some 
men's  minds,  and  repress  that  overweening  conceit 
by  which  they  destroy  in  part  their  own  usefulness. 
It  would  surprise  and  mortify  many,  could  they 
come  out  of  their  graves  ten  years  after  they  had 
entered  them,  and  still  retain  the  ideas  they 
once  entertained  of  their  own  importance,  to  see 
how  well  the  world  goes  on  without  them.  If  the 
death  of  ordinary  individuals  be  but  as  the  casting  of 
a  pebble  from  the  seashore  into  the  ocean,  which  is 
neither  missed  from  the  one  nor  sensibly  gained  by 
the  other,  the  death  of  the  more  extraordinary  ones 
is  but  as  the  foundering  of  a  piece  of  rock  into  the 
abyss  beneath  :  it  makes  at  the  time  a  rumbling 
noise  and  a  great  splash  ;  but  the  wave  which  it 
raises  soon  subsides  into  a  ripple,  the  ripple  itself 
soon  sinks  to  a  placid  level,  the  tide  flows,  ships 
pass,  commerce  goes  on,  and  shore  and  ocean 
appear  just  as  they  did  before  the  disruption. 

— James. 


GOD. 

I.  REASON  FOR  BELIEF  IN  HIS  EXIST- 
ENCE. 

(2220.)  The  devout  man  does  not  only  believe, 
but  feels  there  is  a  Deity.  He  has  actual  sensations 
of  Him  ;  his  ex[)erience  concurs  \\\\.h  his  reason  ; 
he  sees  Him  more  and  more  in  all  li is  intercourses 
with  Him,  and  even  in  this  life  almost  loses  his 
faith  in  conviction.  — Addison,  1672-17 19. 

(2221.)  But  what  has  been  often  urged  as  a  con- 
sideration of  much  more  weight,  is  not  only  the 
opinion  of  the  better  sort,  but  the  general  consent 
of  mankind  to  this  great  truth  ;  which  I  think  could 
not  possibly  have  come  to  pass,  but  from  one  of  the 
three  following  reasons  :  either  that  the  idea  of  a 
God  is  innate  and  co-existent  with  the  mind  itself ;  or 
that  this  truth  is  so  very  obvious  that  it  is  discovered 
by  the  first  exertion  of  reason  in  persons  of  the 
most  ordinary  capacities  ;  or,  lastly,  that  it  has  been 
delivered  down  to  us  through  all  ages  by  a  tradition 
from  the  first  man.  The  atheists  are  equally  con- 
founded to  whichever  of  these  three  causes  we 
assign  it.  — Budgell,  16S5-1736. 

II.  THERE  IS   ONE   GOD. 

(2222.)  There  is  but  one  Omnipotent  power.  If 
there  be  two  Omnipotents,  then  we  must  always 
suppose  a  contest  between  these  two  :  that  which 
one  would  do,  the  other  power  being  equal,  would 
oppose,  and  so  all  things  would  be  brought  into 
confusion.  If  a  ship  should  have  two  pilots  of  equal 
power,  one  would  be  ever  crossing  the  other  :  when 
one  would  sail,  the  other  would  cast  anchor  :  here 
were  a  confusion,  and  the  ship  must  needs  perish. 
The  order  and  harmony  in  the  world,  the  constant 
and  uniform  government  of  all  tilings,  is  a  clear 
argument  that  there  is  but  one  Omnipotent,  one 
God  that  rules  all.  "  I  am  the  first,  and  I  am  the 
last,  and  beside  Me  there  is  no  God." 

—  Watsotty  1696. 


III.  GOD    IS   A    SPIRIT. 

{2223.)  There  is  no  other  passage  in  Scripture 
besides  this  (John  iv.  24)  where  it  is  expressly 
declared  that  God  is  a  Spirit  ;  yet  throughout  the 
whole  of  Scripture  we  are  led  to  infer  that  He  is  so, 
and  our  duty  to  Him  is  everywhere  founded  on  the 
belief  and  knowledge  of  this  attribute  of  His  nature. 
When  we  affirm  God  to  be  a  Spirit,  we  not  only 
distinguish  Him  from  all  bodily  substance,  but,  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  soul  greatly  excels  the  body 
in  the  superior  powers  of  life,  understanding,  know- 
ledge, activity,  so  we  must  conceive  of  God  as  of  a 
Being  excelling  in  an  infinitely  higher  proportion, 
not  only  the  souls  of  men,  but  also  all  other  intel- 
lectual  natures  or  spirits  whatsoever. 

— Samuel  Clarke,  1675-1729. 

IV.  THE   GREAT  FIRST   CAUSE. 

(2224.)  The  scribe  is  more  properly  said  to  write 
than  the  pen,  and  he  that  maketh  and  keepeth  the 
clock  is  more  properly  said  to  make  it  go  and  strike 
than  the  wheels  and  poises  that  hang  upon  it,  and 
every  workman  to  effect  his  work  rather  than  the 
tools  which  he  useth  as  his  instruments.  So  the 
Lord,  who  is  the  chief  agent  and  mover  in  all 
actions,  may  more  fitly  be  said  to  bring  to  pass  all 
things  which  are  done  in  the  earth  than  any  subor. 
dinate  causes,  as  meat  to  nourish  us,  clothes  to  kee^j 
us  warm,  the  sun  to  lighten  us,  friends  to  provide 
for  us,  &c.,  seeing  they  are  but  His  instruments. 
— Downame,  1644. 

V.  HIS  GREATNESS  AND  GLORY. 

(2225.)  His  glory  is  as  Himself,  eternal,  infinite, 
and  so  abides  in  itself,  not  capable  of  our  addition 
to  it  or  detraction  from  it.  As  the  sun,  which  would 
shine  in  its  own  brightness  and  glory  though  all 
the  world  were  blind,  or  did  wilfully  shut  their  eyes 
against  it,  so  God  will  ever  be  most  glorious,  let 
men  be  ever  so  obstinate  or  rebellious.  Yea,  God 
will  have  glory  by  reprobates,  though  it  be  nothing 
to  their  ease  ;  and  though  He  be  not  glorified  of 
them,  yet  He  will  glorify  Himself  in  them. 

— N.  J\ogers,  1 594-1 660. 

(2226.)  The  creature  is  nothing  in  comparison 
with  God  ;  all  the  glory,  perfection,  and  excellency 
of  the  whole  world  do  not  amount  to  the  value  of 
a  unit  in  regard  of  God's  attributes  ;  join  ever  so 
many  of  them  together,  they  cannot  make  one  in 
number;  they  are  nothing  in  His  regard,  and  less 
than  nothing.  All  created  beings  must  utterly 
vanish  out  of  sight  when  we  think  of  God.  As  the 
sun  does  not  annihilate  the  stars,  and  make  them 
nothing,  yet  it  annihilates  their  appearances  to  our 
sight  ;  some  are  of  the  first  magnitude,  some  of 
the  second,  some  of  the  third,  but  in  the  daytime 
all  are  alike,  all  are  darkened  by  the  sun's  glory  : 
so  it  is  here,  there  are  degrees  of  perfection  and 
excellency,  if  we  compare  one  creature  with  another, 
but  let  once  the  glorious  brightness  of  God  shine 
upon  the  soul,  and  in  that  light  all  their  differences 
are  unobserved.  Angels,  men,  worms,  they  are  all 
nothing,  less  than  nothing,  to  be  set  up  against 
God.  This  magnificent  title,"  I  ^m,"  darkens  all, 
as  if  nothing  else  were.       — Manton,  1620-1667. 

(2227.)  A  being  is  absolutely  perfect  when  it 
is  incapable  of  the  least  accession  or  diminution. 
Now  such  a  being  is  God,  and  none  but  God-     Aa 


COD. 


C    3Sr     ) 


GOD. 


the  sun  gets  nothing  by  the  shining  of  the  moon  and 
the  stars,  neither  loseth  anything  by  their  eclipses 
or  withdrawals  ;  so  the  self-sufficient  God  gains 
nothing  by  all  the  suits  and  services,  prayers  and 
praises  of  His  creatures  ;  neither  loseth  anything  by 
their  neglect  of  their  duties.  He  is  above  the  in- 
fluence of  all  our  performances. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(2228.)  It  was  a  noble  conception  of  the  great 
artist  of  antiquity,  who,  to  express  the  grandeur  of 
the  father  of  the  gods,  placed  his  statue,  composed 
of  ivory  and  gold,  and  crowned  with  olive,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  sumptuous  temple  of  Greece,  but 
enthroned  and  sitting  ;  and  of  such  dimensions  that 
the  roof  of  that  majestic  edifice  was  but  a  little 
elevated  above  the  summit  of  the  image,  and  con- 
veyed the  striking  intimation  that  his  noblest 
structure  was  after  all  too  limited  to  contain  the 
uplifted  form  of  the  divinity.  To  the  vulgar  eye,  the 
magnitude  of  this  stupendous  image  appeared  as  a 
defect,  and  the  proportions  of  the  general  fabric 
seemed  to  have  been  forgotten.  But,  on  a  closer 
inspection,  this  very  circumstance  contributed,  more 
than  all  besides,  to  its  impression,— engrossing, 
absorbing,  and  overwhelming  the  spectator ;  not 
more  with  the  richness  of  its  materials  and  the  per- 
fection of  its  symmetry  than  by  the  gigantic  scale 
of  its  greatness, — casting  a  new  and  unexpected 
glory  upon  the  dwelling  which  it  far  outshone. 
IJut  what  is  the  dwelling  we  can  fabricate  for  the 
invisible  and  infinite  God  ?  Where  is  the  house  we 
build  Him,  or  what  is  the  place  of  His  rest?  How 
the  very  insignificance  of  every  earthly  sanctuary, 
contrasted  with  His  infinitude,  adds  to  the  force  of 
these  emotions  I  How  Hi^  immeasurable  gra\"ideur 
swells  upon  our  thought,  when  we  remember,  that, 
though  here  His  foot  may  tread,  His  power  upholds 
the,  stars,  and  His  glory  outshines  the  firmament; 
while  the  amplitude  of  ail  creation  lies — like  a 
pebble  from  the  shore — within  the  hollow  of  His 
hand !  —M'All. 

VI.  INCOMPREHENSIBLE,  YBT  NOT  UN- 
KNOWN. 

(2229.)  It  is  easy  indeed,  while  the  comparison 
is  made  only  between  men,  for  every  man  to 
imagine  himself  to  be  possessed  of  something  which 
others  ought  not  to  contemn  ;  but  when  we  ascend 
to  the  contemplation  of  God,  that  confidence  is 
immediately  lost.  And  the  case  of  our  soul  with 
respect  to  God  is  similar  to  that  of  our  body  with 
respect  to  the  visible  heaven  ;  for  the  eye,  as  long 
as  it  is  employed  in  beholding  adjacent  objects, 
receives  proofs  of  its  own  perspicacity  ;  but  if  it  be 
directed  towards  the  sun,  dazzled  and  confounded 
with  his  overpowering  brightness,  it  feels  no  less 
debility  in  beholding  him,  than  strength  in  the 
view  of  inferior  objects.        — Calvin,  1509-1564. 

(2230.)  We  know  God  but  as  men  born  blind 
know  the  fire  :  they  know  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  fire,  for  they  feel  it  warm  them,  but  what  it  is 
they  know  not.  So,  that  there  is  a  God  we  know, 
but  what  He  is  we  know  little,  and  indeed  we  can 
never  search  Him  out  to  perfection  ;  a  finite  crea- 
ture can  never  fully  comprehend  that  which  is  in- 
finite. — MantoK^  1620-1667. 

(2231.)  God  is  to  us,  and  to  every  creature, 
incomprehensible.      If    thou     couldst    fathom    or 


measure  Him,  and  know  His  greatness  by  a  com- 
prehensive knowledge,  He  were  not  God.  A 
creature  can  comprehend  nothing  but  a  creature. 
You  may  know  God,  but  not  comprehend  Him  ;  as 
your  foot  treadeth  on  the  earth,  but  doth  not  cover 
all  the  earth.  The  sea  is  not  the  sea,  if  you  can 
hold  it  in  a  spoon.  Thou  canst  not  comprehend 
the  sun  which  thou  seest,  and  by  which  thou  seest 
all  things  else,  nor  the  sea,  nor  the  earth,  no,  nor  a 
worm,  nor  a  pile  of  grass  :  thy  understanding 
knoweth  not  all  that  God  hath  put  into  any  the 
least  of  these ;  thcu  art  a  stranger  to  thyself,  and  to 
somewhat  in  every  part  of  thyself,  both  body  and 
soul.  And  thinkest  thou  that  perfectly  compre- 
hendest  nothing,  to  comprehend  God  ?  Stop  then 
thy  over-bold  inquiries,  and  remember  that  thou  art 
a  shallow,  finite  worm,  and  God  is  infinite.  First 
reach  to  comprehend  the  heaven  and  earth  and 
whole  creation,  before  thou  think  of  comprehending 
Him,  to  whom  the  world  is  nothing,  or  vanity. 
— Baxter,  16 1 5- 169 1. 

(2232.)  If  I  never  saw  that  creature  which  con- 
tains not  something  unsearchable;  nor  the  worm  so 
small,  which  afibrdeth  not  matter  for  questions  to 
puzzle  the  greatest  philosopher  I  ever  met  with  ;• 
no  wonder,  then,  if  mine  eyes  fail,  when  I  would 
look  at  God,  my  tongue  fail  me  in  speaking  of 
Him,  and  my  heart  in  conceiving.  As  long  as  the 
Atheninn  superscription  dcth  so  too  well  suit  with 
my  sacrifices,  "To  the  unknown  God,"  and  while 
I  cannot  contain  the  smallest  rivulet,  it  is  little  I 
can  contain  of  this  immense  ocean.  We  shall  never 
be  capable  of  clearly  knowing,  till  we  are  capable  of 
fidly  enjoying;  nay,  nor  till  we  do  actually  enjoy 
Him.  What  strange  conceivings  hath  a  man,  born 
blind,  of  tlie  sun  and  its  light ;  or  a  man  boin  deaf, 
of  the  nature  of  sounds  and  music  ;  so  do  we  yet 
want  that  sense  by  which  God  must  be  clearly 
known.  I  stand  and  look  upon  a  heap  of  ants,  and 
see  them  all,  with  one  view,  very  busy  to  little 
purpose.  They  know  not  me,  my  being,  nature, 
or  thoughts,  though  I  am  their  fellow-creature ; 
how  little,  then,  must  we  know  of  the  great  Creator, 
though  He  with  one  view  continually  beholds  us 
all.  Yet  a  knowledge  we  have,  though  imperfect, 
and  such  as  must  be  done  away.  A  glimpse  the 
saints  behold,  though  but  in  a  glass,  which  make  us 
capable  of  some  poor,  general,  dark  apprehensions 
of  what  we  shall  behold  in  glory. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2233.)  It  is  indeed  our  unhappiness  in  this  state 
of  weakness  and  mortality,  that  tne  most  advanced 
in  knowledge  and  improved  in  piety  have  yet  but 
very  lame  and  imperfect  conceptions  of  the  great 
God.  And  the  reason  of  it  is  manifest ;  because 
we  are  forced  to  understand  that  which  is  infinite, 
after  a  finite  manner.  For  philosophy  teaches, 
that  *^  inlelli^ere  est  pati,  et  pati  est  recipere." 
And  one  thing  receives  another,  not  according 
to  the  full  latitude  of  the  object,  but  according 
to  the  scanty  model  of  its  own  capacity.  If  we 
let  down  a  vessel  into  the  sea,  we  shall  bring 
up,  not  what  the  sea  can  afford,  but  what  the 
vessel  can  hold  :  and  just  so  it  is  in  our  own 
understanding  of  God.  — South,  1 633-1 16. 

(2234.)  The  glorified  saints  and  holy  angels,  who 
behold  as  much  of  His  glory  as  creatures  can  bear, 
do  not  know  Him  as  He  is.  They  are  filled  with 
His  power  and  love.     He  comprehends  them,  bu) 


OOD, 


(     382     ) 


GOD. 


they  cannot  Him.  A  vessel  cast  into  the  sea,  can 
bu-t  receive  according  to  its  capacity.  Thus  are 
Ihey  tilled  with  His  fulness  till  they  can  hold  no 
more ;  but  His  glory  still  remains  infinite  and 
boundless.  The  glorious  seraphim,  therefore,  are 
represented  as  hiding  their  faces  with  their  wings, 
unable  to  bear  the  splendour  of  His  presence. 

— Newton,  1 725-1807. 

(2235.)  One  day,  in  conversation  with  the 
Jurgo-kritu,  head  pundit  of  the  College  of  Fort 
\\'illiain,  on  the  subject  of  God,  this  man,  who 
is  truly  learned  in  his  own  shastras,  gave  me 
from  one  of  their  books  this  parable  : — "  In  a 
certain  country  there  existed  a  village  of  blind 
men.  These  men  had  heard  that  there  was  an 
amazing  animal  called  the  elephant,  but  they 
knew  not  how  to  form  an  idea  of  his  shape. 
One  day  an  elephant  happened  to  pass  through 
the  place :  the  villagers  crowded  to  the  s]iot 
where  this  animal  was  standing.  One  of  them 
got  hold  of  liis  trunk,  another  seized  his  ear, 
another  his  tail,  another  one  of  his  legs,  &c. 
After  thus  trying  to  gratify  their  curiosity  they 
returned  into  the  village,  and  sitting  down  together 
they  began  to  give  their  ideas  on  what  the  elephant 
was  like  :  the  man  who  had  seized  his  trunk  said 
he  thought  the  elephant  was  like  the  body  of  the 
plantain  tree  ;  the  man  who  had  felt  his  ear  said 
he  thought  he  was  like  the  fan  with  which  the 
Hindoos  clean  the  rice;  the  man  who  had  felt 
his  tail  said  he  thought  he  must  be  like  a  snake; 
and  the  man  who  had  seized  his  leg,  thought  he 
must  be  like  a  pillar.     An  old  blind  man  of  some 

t'udgment  was  present,  who  was  greatly  perplexed 
low  to  reconcile  these  jarring  notions,  respecting 
the  form  of  the  elephant ;  but  he  at  length  said, 
'You  have  all  been  to  examine  this  animal,  it 
is  true,  and  what  you  report  cannot  be  false  :  I 
suppose,  therefore,  that  that  which  was  like  the 
plaintain  tree  must  be  his  trunk  ;  that  which  was 
like  a  fan  must  be  his  ear ;  that  which  was  like 
a  snake  must  be  his  tail,  and  that  which  was  like 
a  pillar  must  be  his  body.'  In  this  way,  the 
old  man  united  all  their  notions,  and  made  out 
something  of  the  form  of  the  elephant.  Respect- 
ing God,"  added  the  pundit,  "we  are  all  blind; 
none  of  us  has  seen  llim;  those  who  wrote  the 
shastras,  like  the  old  blind  man,  have  collected 
all  the  reasonings  and  conjectures  of  mankind 
together,  and  have  endeavoured  to  form  some 
idea  of  the  nature  of  the  Divine  Being." 

The  pundit's  parable  may  be  appropriately 
applied  to  the  science  of  theology.  Some  Chris- 
tians see  one  truth  and  some  another,  and  each 
one  is  quite  sure  that  he  has  beheld  the  whole. 
Where  is  the  master-mind  who  shall  gather  up 
the  truth  out  of  each  creed,  and  see  the  theology 
of  the  Bible  in  it?  completeness? — a  sublimer  sight 
than  the  believer  >  in  the  isms  have  yet  been  able 
to  imagine.  — Spurgeon. 

(2236.)  In  this  world  our  knowledge  is  compara- 
tively dim  and  unsatisfactory,  but  nevertheless  is 
introductory  to  grander  and  more  conijilete  vision. 

This  is  eminently  true  in  regard  to  our  view  of 
Gi)d.  We  hear  so  much  about  God  that  we  con- 
clude that  we  understand  Him.  He  is  represented 
as  having  the  tenderness  of  a  father,  the  firmness  of 
a  judge,  the  pomp  of  a  king,  and  the  love  of  a 
UioUier.     We  hear   about    Him,    talk  about   Him, 


write  about  Him.  We  lisp  His  name  in  infancy, 
and  it  trembles  on  the  tongue  of  the  dying  octogen- 
arian. We  think  that  we  know  very  much  about 
Him.  Take  the  attribute  of  wtrri'.  Do  we  under- 
stand it?  The  Ihble  blossoms  all  over  with  that 
word  MERCY.  It  speaks  again  and  again  of  the 
tender  mercies  of  God  ;  of  the  sure  mercies  ;  of  the 
great  mercies  ;  of  the  mercy  that  endureth  for  ever ; 
of  the  nniltitiide  oS.  His  mercies.  And  yet  I  know 
that  the  views  we  have  of  this  great  Being  are  most 
indefinite,  one-sided,  and  incomplete.  When  at 
death,  the  gates  shall  fly  open,  and  we  shall  look 
directly  upon  Him,  how  new  and  surprising  !  We 
see  upon  canvas  a  picture  of  the  morning.  We 
study  the  cloud  in  the  sky,  the  dew  upon  the  grass, 
and  the  husbandman  on  the  way  to  the  field. 
Beautiful  picture  of  the  morning  !  But  we  rise  at 
daybreak,  and  go  up  on  a  hill,  to  see  for  ourselves 
that  which  was  represented  to  us.  While  we  look, 
the  mountains  are  transfigured.  The  burnished 
gates  of  heaven  swing  open  and  shut,  to  let  pass  a 
host  of  fiery  .splendours.  The  clusters  of  purple 
cloud  hang  pendant  from  arbours  of  alabaster  and 
amethyst.  The  waters  make  a  pathway  of  inlaid 
pearl  for  the  light  to  walk  upon  ;  and  there  is  morn- 
ing on  the  sea.  The  crags  uncover  their  scarred 
visage,  and  there  is  morning  among  the  mountains. 
Now  you  go  home,  and  how  tame  your  picture  of 
the  morning  seems  in  contrast.  Greater  than  that 
shall  be  the  contrast  between  this  Scriptural  view  of 
God  and  that  which  we  shall  have  when  standing 
face  to  face.  This  is  the  picture  of  the  morning  : 
that  will  be  the  morning  itself.  — lalmage, 

(2237.)  Now,  our  God  is  a  brilliant  star,  too  far 
off  for  measurement  ;  but  bright,  we  know,  and 
perfect,  we  know.  The  fact  of  His  existence  we 
know  ;  but  little  else  do  we  know  concerning  Him. 
"  In  the  ages  to  come  "  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is. 
Now  we  see  H  im  as  we  are.  —Beecher. 

{2238.)  Thou  hast  granted  us  some  sense  of  the 
mystery  of  godliness,  and  some  sense  of  the  majesty 
of  God  ;  and  our  thoughts  have  been  pilgrims 
through  the  mighty  realm  where  Thou  art ;  and 
though,  by  searching,  we  cannot  find  Thee  out  to 
perfection,  we  have  discerned  Thee.  As  they  that 
look  upon  the  mountains  cannot  see  all  that  is  in 
them,  nor  the  whole  range  thereof,  so  ha\e  we  not 
found  Thee  out ;  and  yet  we  have  explored  Thy 
nature,  and  learned  truly  that  which  we  know. 
We  have  discerned  dimly  where  point  after  point 
Thou  dost  recede  toward  the  infinite  and  the 
eternal  ;  and  we  rejoice  in  that  which  we  know, 
and  in  the  overhanging  glory  of  that  which  we  dis- 
cern faintly,  and  in  the  faith  of  that  which  is  un- 
known, and  which  will  yet  to  us  transcend  in 
beauty  all  that  now  we  can  frame  or  fashion  by  our 
own  imagination.  — Beecher. 

(2239.)  Our  knowledge  of  God  in  the  present 
state  of  things,  with  all  that  has  been  done  to 
winnow  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  is  exceedingly 
incomplete  and  unsatisfying.  Our  knowledge  of 
the  divine  nature  is  unlike  the  knowledge  of  the 
qualities  of  matter  which  may  oe  discerned  through 
the  use  of  our  senses.  God  cannot  be  learned  by 
any  process  of  observation  ;  nor  can  His  kingdom 
be  studied  by  scientific  methods.  As  is  declared, 
"The  kingtlom  of  God  comet h  not  with  observa- 
tion."    A  knowleelge  of  the  divine  nature  is  not  a 


GOD. 


(     383    ) 


GOD. 


thing  to  be  demonstrated  by  scientific  tests.  It 
depends  upon  growth  in  us.  We  cannot  under- 
stand in  God  anytliing  of  which  we  have  not  some- 
thing in  ourselves  that  stands  for  a  suggestion,  an 
analogue,  and  of  which  we  have  not  liatl  a  parallel 
experience.  How  far  can  we  understand  God  ? 
As  far  as  we  are  developed  in  spiritual  directions. 
How  is  it  possible  for  us  to  come  to  any  consider- 
able understanding  of  God,  who  is,  after  all,  to  us 
but  a  Being  somewhat  greater  than  good  beings 
whom  we  have  known  upon  earth  ?  How  much 
can  we  convey  of  our  nature  and  of  our  modes  of 
government  to  the  intelligent  creatures  that  are 
below  us? — for  there  are  creatures  below  us  who 
understand  many  things.  How  much  could  we 
make  the  horse,  the  dog,  or  the  elephant  under- 
stand, either  of  our  dispositions,  or  of  the  motives 
from  which  we  work,  or  of  the  structure  and  nature 
of  our  minds,  or  of  the  processes  of  society,  or  of 
the  civil  government  which  we  are  carrying  on? 
You  could  not  make  them  understand  these  things, 
iecause  they  have  not  the  development,  the  faculty 
tliat  makes  the  meaning  plain  to  them.  The  beings 
below  us  cannot  understand  us  because  they  are 
cot  sufficiently  unfolded. 

And  is  it  not  so  as  between  us  and  a  superior 
Intelligence?  There  is  not  that  in  us  which  can 
understand  God.  Parts  of  His  ways,  and  these  the 
lower  parts,  we  understand  ;  but  the  distance 
between  us  and  the  Eternal  Father  is  greater  than 
the  distance  between  us  and  the  more  intelligent 
animals  below  us.  — Beecher. 

(2240,)  When  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is,  not 
the  first  rude  daubs  of  the  incipient  artist  will  seem 
so  rude  when  the  master-artist  has  found  his  skill, 
as  our  earliest  conceptions  of  God  will  seem  when, 
"in  the  ages  to  come,"  we  shall  see  Him  as  lie  is, 
no  longer  as  through  a  glass  darkly,  no  longer  as 
the  vision  of  our  own  imagination,  no  longer  as  the 
imperfect  work  of  our  reason,  but  in  all  the  ampli- 
tude and  fulness  of  the  real  Being,  and  when  we  are 
so  developed  that  we  are  able  to  behold  and  still  to 
live. 

We  see  on  every  side  how  many  analogies  of  this 
there  are.  We  see  how  impossible  it  is  for  beings 
to  conceive  of  things  that  are  far  along  beyond  them 
in  the  way  of  development.  Who,  for  instance, 
that  was  created  with  mature  power,  but  had  never 
lived  to  gather  experience,  could  to-day  form  the 
slightest  forecast  ol  next  October?  Who  could  tt.-ll 
the  colour  of  the  autumn  from  the  first  growths  and 
germs  of  the  spring?  Imagine  an  Esquimaux 
striving  to  form  some  idea  of  the  tropics  from  the 
missionary's  description.  What  has  he  to  form  an 
idea  but  from  the  moss  and  stinted  shrubs  that 
scarcely  grow  higher  than  his  feet,  and  the  flowers 
that  blossom  in  the  midst  of  northern  glaciers? 
Would  he  form  a  concejuion  of  the  brilliant  fruits  of 
the  tropics?  He  must  grub  the  ground  for  berries, 
which  are  all  the  fruit  that  the  frigid  zone  knows. 
And  from  tiie  creeping  vine  of  the  wintergreen- 
berries,  from  the  huckle-berries,  and  such  like 
things,  he  is  to  form  his  ideal  of  those  magnificent 

?arasitic  plants  which  fill  the  tropical  forests, 
'hese  little  berries  are  his  oranges,  and  bananas, 
and  pine-apples.  He  attempts,  shivering  in  the 
midsummer,  under  the  iceberg,  to  form  a  concep- 
tion of  the  everlasting  pomp  and  glory  of  the 
equatorial  region.  And  when  he  has  formed  a 
conception  of  it,  he  cheers  himself,  and  sighs,  and 


wishes  he  could  see  it.  Oh  !  it  is  so  beautiful  is 
his  imagination  !  But  what  does  he  know  of  ii? 
What  is  an  Esquimaux's  ideal  of  equatorial  glory  ? 
The  reality  transcends  unspeakably  any  conception 
which  he  can  form. 

And  that  which  is  to  be  revealed  to  you,  "  in  the 
ages  to  come,"  when  you  shall  have  left  these 
mortal  bodies,  when  you  shall  have  experienced  the 
sensations  of  the  new  life,  when  you  shall  have  un- 
folded and  come  into  the  realm  where  things  are  no 
longer  symbols  but  realities ;  when  the  physical 
shall  have  ceased,  and  the  spiritual  shall  have  been 
ushered  in — that  will  surpass  any  ideal  that  your 
highest  imagination  has  ever  pictured.    — Beecher. 

VII.  REVELATIONS  OF  GOD. 

(2241.)  "Hath  seen  the  Father,'"  as  the  soul, 
itself  invisible,  is  seen  by  what  it  does  through  the 
body.  — Bengel. 

(2242.)  O  Lord,  Thou  showest  thyself  everywhere, 
and  ever>'where  inattentive  men  neglect  to  perceive 
Thy  presence.  All  Nature  speaks  of  Thee,  and 
resounds  with  Thy  holy  name  ;  but  she  speaks  to 
men  that  are  deaf,  and  who  owe  their  deafness  to 
the  noise  and  distraction  that  they  raise  about  them- 
selves. Thou  art  near.  Thou  art  even  within  them  ; 
but  they  wander  out  of  themselves,  and  are  fugitives 
from  their  own  breasts.        — Fhielon,  1651-1715. 

(2243.)  That  immense  vagueness  which  some 
men  call  God  I  that  terrible  Power;  that  Fate; 
that  unseen  Being  who  looks  down  upon  the  world 
apparently  with  supreme  indifference — (for,  though 
ten  tliousand  groans  go  up  toward  God,  no  sii^'h 
comes  back  through  the  air  to  us'  to  tell  us  that 
there  is  sympathy  there ;  though  sorrows  sweep 
over  the  world  as  equinoctial  storms  by  day  and 
by  night,  for  all  that  we  can  see  by  mere  sense 
or  natural  reason,  God  is  as  calm  and  cold  as 
the  upper  ether) — is  He  a  reality?  Is  there  a 
God  ?  If  so,  is  He  more  than  an  engineer  of 
this  vast  and  complicated  machine?  What  token 
have  we?  What  can  we  gather  from  nature  to 
teach  us  of  God  ?  I  do  not  believe  that  nature, 
if  you  leave  out  the  experience  ol  the  human 
famUy  (and  that  part  usually  is  left  out  when 
men  study  Divine  nature  to  find  Divinity),  can 
teach  you  that  God  is  good.  I  think  that  the 
argument  stands  fair  hitherto,  that  either  there 
is  a  divided  empire,  or  there  is  a  capricious  Gover- 
nor, sometimes  good  and  sometimes  bad.  Outside 
of  revelation,  outside  of  the  clear  light  which  we 
derive  from  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  God  is  afat 
off.  He  is  brought  near  in  Christ  Jesus.  He 
came  to  teach  us  what  God's  dispositions  are. 
He  came  to  teach  us  that  God  is  a  Father,  and 
that  His  purposes  run  through  wide  circles,  and 
extend  so  far  that  we  can  no  more  judge  of  the 
limits  of  them  than  we  could  judge  from  the  corn- 
kernel  of  what  the  whole  harvest  would  be  if  we 
had  never  seen  one.  The  beginnings  are  appa- 
rent, but  the  ultimate  ends  are  obscure. 

— Beechtr, 

VIII.  HOW  HE  IS  TO  BE  KNOWN. 
Can  be  known  only  by  the  pure  in  heart. 
(2244.)  The    Divine    nature   can   only  be   made 

known  to  us  through  that  part  of  our  nature  which 
is  like  His.     You  cannot  imitate  silence  by  makint» 


GOD. 


(    384    ) 


GOD. 


%  noise.  You  cannot  make  a  man  have  sweet 
tastes  by  giving  him  sour  or  bitter.  You  cannot 
take  an  opaque  stone,  and  with  it  ilUistrate  the 
transparency  of  glass  or  a  diamond.  You  cannot 
by  darkness  imitate  light.  You  must  have  the 
quality  itself  that  you  wish  to  make  known.  If 
that  which  in  God  is  so  precious  were  a  material 
thing,  then  it  might  be  made  known  to  us  through 
material  organisations  ;  but  as  God  is  infinite  in 
love,  and  beauty,  and  wisdom,  and  glory,  and 
excellence.  He  is  to  be  known  to  us  in  these 
elements  by  the  actual  possession  of  the  qualities 
themselves,  as  windows  through  which  the  light 
of  heaven  shines.  The  windows  in  us  are  to  be 
like  the  heavenly  windows ;  and  the  knowledges 
that  come  to  us  are  to  be  brought  out  from  the 
very  chords  which  are  in  our  bosom,  and  which 
vibrate  in  us.  — Beedur. 

IX.    OUR  FATHER. 

(2245.)  Every  one  takes  care  of  his  own  ;  the  silly 
hen,  how  doth  she  bustle  and  bestir  herself  to  gather 
her  brood  under  her  wing  when  the  kite  appears  ! 
No  care  like  that  which  Nature  teachelh.  How 
much  more  will  God,  who  is  the  Father  of  such  dis- 
positions in  His  creature,  stir  up  His  whole  strength 
to  defend  His  children  ?  "  He  said,  They  are  my 
people,  so  He  became  their  Saviour,"  as  if  God  had 
said.  Shall  I  sit  still  with  my  hand  in  my  bosom, 
while  my  own  people  are  thus  misused  before  my 
face?  I  cannot  bear  it.  The  mother  as  she  sits  in 
her  house,  hears  one  shriek,  and  knows  the  voice, 
cries  out,  Oh,  'tis  my  child  !  Away  she  throws  all, 
and  runs  to  him.  Thus  God  takes  the  alarm  of 
His  children's  cry,  "  I  heard  Ephraim  bemoaning 
himself,"  saith  the  Lord  ;  his  cry  pierced  His  ear, 
and  His  ear  affected  His  bowels,  and  His  bowels 
called  up  His  power  to  the  rescue  of  him. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2246.)  The  relation  which  the  Most  High  sus- 
tains to  His  intelligent  and  accountable  creatures  is 
too  comprehensive  and  too  intiniaie  to  be  perfectly 
imaged  by  any  earthly  tie  ;  but  in  the  relation 
which  runs  through  this  parable  [?'.<•.  of  The  Pro- 
digal Son,  St.  Luke  xv.  11-32],  it  finds  its  near- 
est equivalent.  And  what  amongst  ourselves  is 
fatherhood  ?  It  is  that  relation  which  identifies 
greatness  with  littleness,  which  makes  it  quite 
natural  th.it  the  arm  which  wields  the  battle-sword 
should  gently  rock  the  sleeping  babe,  which  secures 
from  contempt  the  master  of  sentences,  the  sage, 
the  orator,  though  he  babble  idle  rhymes  in  his 
infant's  ear.  It  is  that  relation  which  lives  in  the 
loved  one's  joy  or  honour,  and  which  is  wounded  in 
his  grief  or  his  disgrace  ;  which  feels  no  pride  like 
a  son's  promotion,  and  which,  gazing  at  the  bhjod- 
stained  garment,  cries,  "  It  is  my  son's  coat,  an  evil 
beast  has  devoured  him ;  1  will  go  down  to  him  in 
the  grave  sorrowing  ;"  but  which  would  rather  that 
the  evil  beast  had  devouretl  him,  than  that  he  should 
live  to  blight  his  principles  )r  forfeit  a  virtuous  fame. 
It  is  that  relation  amongst  men  which  toils  and 
denies  itself,  and  does  not  grudge  the  long  journeys 
and  the  sleepless  nights  which  enable  the  father  to 
lay  up  for  the  children  ;  and  both  in  heaven  and 
earth,  it  is  that  relation  which  delights  in  being 
trusted  and  which  desires  to  be  loved  in  return  ; 
which  cannot  be  asked  too  many  favours,  or  be  en- 
trusted with  too  many  con&iences,  which  seeks  one 


gift  only,  "My  Son,  give  me  thine  heart,"  and  heari 
no  language  more  pleasing  than  "  My  Father,  Thou 
art  the  guide  of  my  youth.  Father,  forgive  my  tres- 
passes, and  give  me  this  day  my  daily  bread." 

— Haiiditen. 

(2247.)  -^  ^''^g  's  sitting  with  his  council  delibe- 
rating on  high  affairs  of  state  involving  the  de'.tiny 
of  nations,  when  suddenly  he  hears  the  sorrowful 
cry  of  his  little  child  who  has  fallen  down,  or  been 
frightened  by  a  wasp  ;  he  rises  and  runs  to  his  relief, 
assuages  his  sorrows  and  relieves  his  fears.  Is  there 
anything  unkingly  here?  Is  it  not  most  natural? 
Does  it  nc'.  even  elevate  the  monarch  in  your  esteem? 
Why  then  do  we  think  it  dishonourable  to  the  King 
of  kings,  our  heavenly  Father,  to  consider  the  small 
matters  of  His  children  ?  It  is  infinitely  condescend- 
ing, but  is  it  not  also  superlatively  natural  that 
being  a  Father  He  should  act  as  such  ? 

— Spiirgeon. 

(2248.)  The  idea  that  God,  who  governs  the 
heavens  and  the  whole  universe,  should  not  only 
stoop  to  think  of  each  man,  but  should  be  interested 
in  every  phase  of  the  experience  of  each  man,  so 
that  we  may  literally  say  that  the  Divine  sympathy 
attends  evei^  step  of  every  individual  human  life^ 
this  idea,  when  you  look  at  it  in  the  light  of  guber- 
natorial love,  or  the  love  of  an  officer  of  govern- 
ment, does  seem  extravagant.  It  seems  impossible. 
Nor  does  it  become  likely,  and  address  itself  to  ou! 
feelings  as  a  thing  real  and  true,  till  we  look  at  the 
affection  that  we  behold  in  the  social  relations  of  life 
— lor  instance,  the  paternal  and  the  maternal — and 
see  what  the  effect  of  loving  is.  Then,  how  trifles 
cease  to  be  tiifles  !  how  little  things,  and  disagree- 
able things,  become  neither  little  nor  disagreeable  I 
They  are  changed.  If  you  were  to  take  the  love 
that  a  wonian  shows  outwardly  for  her  friends,  and 
the  things  that  she  admires  and  relishes  in  li.'e,  you 
would  not  judge,  by  her  ordinary  carriage  and  the 
tastes  which  she  usually  displays,  that  little  and 
almost  silly  things  could  ever  please  her.  But  see 
her  at  home  with  her  little  child  of  one  year  old  or 
less.  Take  notice  how  that  stately,  self-poised,  cul- 
tured, fastidious  woman,  who,  in  general  society, 
would  disdain  the  trifles  of  life,  ami  still  more  its 
prattling  trifles,  abandons  herself  to  the  little  ways 
of  the  child.  See  how  its  little  quirks  and  pranks, 
that  to  everybody  else  would  be  ridiculous,  please 
her  and  engross  her.  And  since  it  is  very  much  so 
with  fathers  too,  every  one  perceives  plainly  that  it 
is  in  the  power  of  love  to  entirely  transform  things, 
so  that  they  shall  seem  different  and  be  different. 
And  that  which  is  true  of  love  is  true  of  every  other 
faculty  or  feeling. 

Through  this  analogy  I  can  understand  how  God 
may  have  an  interest  even  in  the  lowest  and  the 
least.  He  charges  His  angels  with  folly  ;  but  He 
loves  them.  And  if  men  are  a  great  deal  more 
foolish  than  angels,  still  it  is  in  the  power  of  Divine 
love  to  take  an  interest  in  them  too  ;  not  judicially, 
not  officially,  not  on  account  of  God's  majesty,  but 
on  account  of  God's  love.  "As  a  father  pitieih  h»f 
children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him." 

— Beeclur. 

(2249.)  There  are  some  who  reject  Christianity 
because  it  seems  to  them  incredible  that  God  would 
have  taken  so  much  trouble,  as  the  New  Testament 
represents  Him  to  have  done,  for  the  salvation  of 


GOD. 


(     38s     ) 


GijD. 


creatuies  sc  infinitely  beneath  Him  as  we  are.  But 
they  forget  that  the  New  Testament  teaches  also 
that  God  is  our  Father.  \{  that  be  granted,  if  it  be 
conceded  that  God  does  really  sustain  to  us  the 
parental  relation,  then  I  declare  that  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  God  should  have  made  such  sacrifices 
to  save  us,  unless  the  feeling  of  compassion  be 
fainter  and  feebler  in  God  than  it  is  in  us.  liven  a 
man  will  not  permit  a  child  to  perish  without  some 
effort  to  save  it — a«)' child  ;  it  need  not  be  his  own. 
Now.  one  fact  is  worth  a  dozen  arguments  ;  and  I 
will  therefore  ask  you  to  listen  to  a  humble  man  as 
he  relates  an  incident  in  his  otlierwise  uneventful 
life.  For  a  little  while  imagine  yourselves  to  be 
seated  around  the  table  of  an  American  boarding- 
house,  where  the  inmates  are  spending  an  hour  or 
two  one  evening  in  relating  the  more  remarkable 
events  that  have  occurred  to  them  ;  imagine  that 
you  are  listening  to  one  of  the  guests  there,  instead 
of  to  me. 

"My  name  is  Anthony  Hunt.  I  am  a  drover, 
and  I  live  miles  and  miles  away,  upon  the  Western 
prairie.  There  wasn't  a  house  within  sight  when 
we  moved  there,  my  wife  and  I  ;  and  now  we  have 
not  many  neighbours,  though  those  we  have  are 
good  ones. 

"  One  day,  about  ten  years  ago,  I  went  away  from 
home  to  sell  some  fifty  head  of  cattle — fine  creatures 
as  ever  I  saw.  I  was  to  buy  some  groceries  and 
dry  goods  before  I  came  back,  and,  above  all,  a 
doll  for  our  youngest,  Dolly  ;  she  never  had  a  shop 
doll  of  her  own,  only  the  rag  babies  her  mother  had 
made  her.  Dolly  could  talk  of  nothing  else,  and 
went  down  to  the  very  gate  to  call  after  me  to  '  buy 
a  big  one.'  Nobody  but  a  parent  can  understand 
how  my  mind  was  on  that  toy,  and  how,  when  the 
cattle  were  sold,  the  first  thing  I  hurried  off  to  buy 
was  Dolly's  doll.  I  found  a  large  one,  with  eyes 
that  would  open  and  shut  when  you  pulled  a  wire, 
and  had  ii  wrapped  up  in  paper,  and  tucked  it 
under  my  arm,  while  I  had  the  parcels  of  calico  and 
delaine,  and  tea  and  sugar  put  up.  It  might  have 
been  more  prudent  to  stay  until  the  morning,  but  I 
felt  anxious  to  get  back,  and  eager  to  hear  Dolly's 
prattle  about  the  doll  she  was  so  anxiously  expecting. 

"  I  mounted  on  a  steady-going  old  horse  of  mine, 
and  pretty  well  loaded.  NiglU  set  in  before  I  was 
a  mile  from  town,  and  settled  down  dark  as  pitch 
while  I  was  in  the  middle  of  the  wildest  bit  of  road 
1  know  of.  I  could  have  felt  my  way  through,  I 
remembered  it  so  well,  and  it  was  almost  that  when 
the  storm  that  had  been  brewing  broke,  and  pelted 
the  rain  in  torrents,  five  miles,  or  may  be  six,  from 
home,  too.  I  rode  on  as  fast  as  I  could  ;  but 
suddenly  I  heard  a  little  cry,  like  a  child's  voice. 
I  Slopped  short  and  listened.  I  heard  it  again.  I 
called,  and  it  answered  me.  I  could n  t  see  a  thing. 
All  was  dark  as  pitch.  I  got  down,  and  felt 
about  in  the  grass  ;  called  again,  and  again  I  was 
answered.  Then  I  began  to  wonder.  I'm  not 
timid  ;  but  I  was  known  to  be  a  drover,  and  to  have 
money  about  me.  I  thought  it  might  be  a  trap  to 
catch  me,  and  there  to  rob  and  murder  me. 

"  I  am  not  superstitious — not  very — but  how  could 
a  real  child  be  out  on  the  prairie  in  such  a  night,  at 
such  an  hour  ?  It  mi!.;ht  be  more  than  human.  The 
bit  of  a  coward  that  hides  itself  in  most  men  showed 
itself  to  me  then,  and  I  was  half  inclined  to  run 
away  ;  but  once  more  I  heard  that  piteous  cry,  and 
said  I,  '  If  any  man's  child  is  hereabouts,  Anthony 
Hunt  is  not  the  man  to  let  it  lie  here  to  die.' 


"  I  searched  again.  At  last  I  bet'tiought  me  of  a 
hollow  under  the  hill,  and  groped  that  way.  Sure 
enough,  I  found  a  little  dripping  thing,  that  moaned 
and  sobbed  as  I  took  it  in  my  arms.  I  called  my 
horse,  and  the  beast  came  to  me,  and  I  mounted, 
and  tucked  the  little  soaked  thing  under  my  coat 
as  well  as  I  could,  promising  to  take  it  home  to 
mammy.  It  seemed  tired  to  death,  and  pretty  soon 
cried  itself  to  sleep  against  my  bosom. 

"  It  had  slept  there  over  an  hour,  when  I  saw  my 
own  windows.  There  were  lights  in  them,  and  I 
supposed  my  wife  had  lit  them  for  my  sake  ;  but 
when  I  got  into  the  door  yard,  I  saw  something  was 
the  matter,  and  stood  still  with  dead  fear  of  heart 
five  minutes  before  I  could  lift  the  latch.  At  last 
I  did  it,  and  saw  the  room  full  of  neighbours,  and 
my  wife  amid  them  weeping.  When  she  saw  me 
she  hid  her  face. 

'"Oh,  don't  tell  him,'  she  said.  'It  will  kill 
him.' 

"  'What  is  it,  neighbours?*  I  cried. 

"  And  one  said,  '  Nothing  now,  1  hope.  What's 
that  in  your  arms  ?  ' 

"  'A  poor  lost  child,'  said  I.  •  I  found  it  on  the 
road.  Take  it,  will  you  ?  I've  turned  faint.'  And 
I  lifted  the  sleeping  thing,  and  saw  the  face  of  my 
own  child,  my  little  Dolly. 

"It  was  my  darling,  and  no  other,  that  I  had 
picked  up  upon  the  drenched  road. 

"  My  little  child  had  wandered  out  to  meet 
'  Daddy '  and  doll  while  her  mother  was  at  work, 
and  for  her  they  were  lamenting  as  for  one  dead. 
I  thanked  God  on  my  knees  before  them  all.  It  is 
not  much  of  a  story,  neighbours  ;  but  I  think  of  it 
often  in  the  nights,  and  wonder  how  I  could  bear 
to  live  now,  if  I  had  not  stopped  when  I  heard  the 
cry  for  help  upon  the  road — the  little  baby-cry, 
hardly  louder  than  a  squirrel's  chirp." 

Is  God  less  pitiful  than  man  ?  Did  you  notice 
the  last  sentence  in  this  man's  story?  "It  is  not 
much  of  a  story,  neighbours  ;  but  J  think  of  it  often 
ill  the  flights,  and  wonder  how  J  could  bear  to  live 
now,  if  I  had  not  stopped  when  I  heard  that  cry  for 
help  upon  the  road — the  little  baby-cry,  hardly 
louder  than  a  squirrel's  chirp."  To  me  that  sen- 
tence alone  renders  credible  the  story  of  redemption. 
Had  God  not  listened  to  the  cry  for  help,  the 
piteous  wail  of  misery,  that  ascended  to  Him  from 
His  lost  children,  and  sent  His  Son  to  seek  and 
save  them,  it  seems  to  me  that  afterwards  remorse 
must  have  risen  within  Him  so  strong  as  to  cause 
Him  to  envy  those  of  His  children  who  can  die  ; 
for,  be  it  remembered.  He  knew,  not  simply  that 
certain  children  were  perishing,  but  that  they  were 
His  children.  — R.  A .  Bertram. 

X.    HIS  A  TTRIBVTES. 

{2250.)  All  God's  attributes  are  identical,  and 
are  the  same  with  His  essence.  Though  He  hath 
several  attributes  whereby  He  is  made  known  to  us, 
yet  He  hath  but  one  essence.  A  cedar-tree  may 
have  several  branches,  yet  it  is  but  one  cedar.  So 
there  are  several  attributes  of  God  whereby  we  coa- 
ceive  of  Him  but  one  entire  essence. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2251.)  As  the  boundless  fields  of  stellar  systems, 

in  a  particular  region  of   the  heavens,  appear  one 

immense   and  cloudless  scene   of  light  ;   but   when 

conieniplated   with   the  aid  of  the  telescope,   each 

i  constellation  is  distinctly  seen  en)itting  its  radiation* 

2  D 


GOD. 


(    386    ) 


GOD, 


of  light,  and  contributing  to  form  this  blaze  of 
splendour ;  so  it  is  in  regard  to  the  Divine  nature  : 
the  whole  is  resplendent  with  inconceivable  gran- 
deur, and  yet  each  perfection  possesses  a  distinct 
glory,  and  contributes  its  rays  to  reveal  the  cha- 
racter of  Him  who  "is  Liglit,  and  in  whom  is  no 
darkness  at  all."  Or  like  the  prismatic  colours, 
each  distinct,  and  in  the  perfection  of  beauty  ;  and 
yet  all  blending  in  one  beam  of  light.     — Ewing. 

(2252.)  There  is  all  possible  perfection  in  God. 
In  Him  absolutely  is  fulness.  All  life  is  in  God, 
life  in  all  its  varieties.  Jehovah  is  the  living  God. 
All  wisdom  is  in  God  :  He  is  "the  only  wise  God." 
All  purity  is  in  God:  "God  is  light."  All  right- 
eousness is  in  God  :  "Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord 
God  Almighty,"  All  love  is  in  God  :  "  God  is 
love."  These  several  attributes  are  not  only  indi- 
vidually complete,  but  perfect  in  their  harmony. 
They  combine  as  the  prismatic  colours  in  light, 
and  unite  as  the  several  gases  which  constitute  the 
atmosphere,  and  they  blend  as  the  hues  of  the  rain- 
bow. — S.  Martin. 

XL    ETERNAL, 

(2253.)  God  is  behind  all  time.  "In  the  begin- 
ning : "  when  was  that  ?  By  what  innumerable 
Stages,  through  what  immense  eras,  the  imagination 
must  travel  in  order  to  reach  it  1  Not  the  least  of 
the  many  benefits  which  modern  science  has  con- 
ferred upon  us,  is  the  enlargement  of  our  concep- 
tions concerning  time.  How  vast  a  period  is  a 
thousand  years  !  How  far  off  it  seems  since  Alfred 
the  Great  ascended  the  English  throne,  yet  it  is  not 
quite  a  thousand  years  ago.  Last  week  I  saw  in 
the  Exeter  Museum  a  mummy  that  is  supposed  to 
have  been  embalmed  in  the  days  of  Hezekiah. 
What  marvellous  revolutions  have  taken  place  since 
that  mummy  was  a  living  man  !  How  old  we 
should  have  thought  him  had  he  lived  till  now  ! 
Yet  he  would  have  been  quite  a  juvenile  beside 
Adam,  had  he  not  drawn  upon  himself  the  curse  of 
death.  How  far  off  seems  the  lime  when  our  first 
parents  dwelt  in  paradise  !  And  yet  what  an  insig- 
nificant period  is  that  compared  with  the  ages 
which  have  elapsed  since  the  granite  which  forms 
the  lust  courses  of  our  new  chapel  was  a  molten 
fluid  !  What  a  mystery  is  time,  stretching  ever 
backward,  past  the  hour  when  at  the  laying  of  the 
earth's  foundations  "  the  morning  stars  sang  to- 
gether, and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy  !  " 
past  the  hour  when  those  "morning  stars"  and 
"sons  of  God"  were  called  into  being  !  But  when 
in  thought  we  have  reached  this  dateless  period, 
when  we  have  gone  beyond  it,  and  find  ourselves  in 
a  vast  void  where  no  star  shines  and  no  seraph 
Bings,  even  then  we  find  ourselves  in  the  presence 
of  God.  We  can  think  of  all  things  and  persons 
besides  Him  coming  into  existence,  tiut  the  thoucht 
of  the  birth  of  God  is  one  whicli  the  mind  refuses 
lo  entertain.  He  is  the  great  I  AM,  to  whom  one 
day  is  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as 
one  day.  He  is  "the  high  and  lofty  one  that  in- 
habiteth  eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy."  Let  us 
bow  in  reverence  before  Him.  "  Lord,  Thou  hast 
been  our  dwelling-place  in  all  generations.  Before 
the  mountains  were  brought  forth,  or  ever  Thou 
hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the  world,  even  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting  Thou  art  God." 

— K.  A.  Bertram. 


XII.  UNCHANGEABLE. 

(2254.)  "Trust  ye  in  the  Lord  for  ever,  for  in 
the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting  strength."  We 
may  depend  upon  Him,  for  His  arm  is  never  dried 
up,  nor  does  His  strength  fail.  T/iere  is  no  ivriiikie 
upon  the  brow  0/  Eta-nity.  God  is  where  He  was 
at  first ;  He  continues  for  ever  a  God  of  infinite 
power,  able  to  save  those  that  trust  in  Him. 

— Manton,  1620-1667. 

(2255.)  What  encouragement  could  there  be  to 
lift  up  our  eyes  to  God  if  He  were  of  one  mind  this 
day  and  of  another  mind  to-morrow?  Who  would 
put  up  a  petition  to  an  earthly  prince  if  he  were  so 
mutable  as  to  grant  a  petition  one  day  and  deny  it 
another,  and  change  his  own  act  ?  But  if  a  prince 
promise  this  or  that  thing  upon  such  or  such  a 
condition,  and  you  know  his  promise  to  be  as  un- 
changeable as  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians, 
would  any  man  reason  thus  ?  because  it  is  unchange- 
able we  will  not  seek  to  him,  we  will  not  peiforra 
the  condition  upon  which  the  fruit  of  the  proclama- 
tion is  to  be  enjoyed.  Who  would  not  count  such 
an  inference  ridiculous?  What  blessings  hath  not 
God  promised  upon  the  condition  of  seeking  Hirai 
— Charnock,  1628-1680, 

(2256.)  Famine,  pestilence,  revolution,  war,  are 
judgments  of  the  Ruler  of  the  World.  What  sort 
of  a  Ruler,  we  ask,  is  He?  The  answer  to  that 
question  will  determine  the  true  sense  of  the  term, 
a  judgment  of  God.  The  heaihen  saw  Him  as  a 
passionate,  capricious,  changeable  Being,  who  -.  ould 
be  angered  and  appeased  by  men.  The  Jewish 
prophets  saw  Him  as  a  C^od  whose  ways  were 
equal,  who  was  unchangeable,  whose  decrees  were 
perpetual,  who  was  not  to  be  bought  off  by  sacri- 
fices but  pleased  by  righteous  dealing,  and  who 
would  remove  the  punishment  when  the  causes 
which  brought  it  on  were  taken  away  ;  in  their  own 
words,  when  men  repented  God  would  repent. 
That  does  not  mean  that  He  changed  His  laws  to 
relieve  them  of  their  suffering,  but  that  they  changed 
their  relationship  to  His  laws,  so  that,  to  them  thus 
changed,  God  seemed  to  change.  A  boat  rows 
against  the  stream  ;  the  current  punishes  it.  So  is 
a  nation  violating  a  law  of  God  ;  it  is  subject  to 
a  judgment.  The  boat  turns  and  goes  with  the 
stream  ;  the  current  assists  it.  So  is  a  nation  "hich 
has  repented  and  put  itself  into  harmony  with  God's 
law ;  it  is  subject  to  a  blessing.  But  the  current  is 
the  same  ;  it  has  not  changed,  only  the  boat  has 
changed  its  relationship  to  the  current.  Neither 
does  God  change — we  change ;  and  the  same  law 
which  executed  itself  in  punishment  now  expresses 
itself  in  reward.  — Brooke, 

XIII.  HIS   OMNIPRESENCE, 

(2257.)  Would  men  speak  so  vainly  if  they  con^ 
sidered  God  overheard  them  ?  Latimer  took  heed 
to  every  wo'd  in  his  examination  when  he  heard  the 
pen  go  behind  ihe  hangings  :  so,  what  caie  would 
persons  have  of  their  words  if  they  remembered  God 
heard  and  the  pen  is  going  in  heaven  ? 

—  ^Vatson,  1696. 

(2258.)  As  birds,  wheresoever  they  fly,  always 
meet  with  the  air ;  so  we,  wheresoever  we  go,  01 
wherever  we  are,  always  find  God  present. 

—Sales. 


GOD. 


(     387     ) 


GOD. 


(2259.)  Suppose  that,  in  travelling  through  a 
wilderness,  a  spacious  garden  should  burst  upon 
your  view,  in  the  midst  of  which  is  a  splendid 
palace.  Upon  entering  it,  you  perceive  in  every 
apartment  proofs  of  the  cgency  of  some  living  per- 
son, though  you  see  none.  Complicated  machinery 
is  moving  and  various  occupations  are  carried  on,  hut 
still  the  agent  who  produces  these  effects  is  invisible. 
Would  you  be  the  less  convinced  that  they  were  pro- 
duced by  some  intelligent  agent  ?  Now,  you  have 
the  same  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  in  His  works 
that  you  would  have  in  the  case  I  have  supposed 
of  the  existence  and  presence  of  some  invisible 
agent ;  and  it  is  just  as  unreasonable  to  doubt  of 
His  existence,  as  it  would  be  to  doubt  whether  the 
palace  had  been  built  by  any  person,  or  was  only 
the  work  of  chance.  Suppose  you  were  informed 
by  a  writing  on  the  wall  that  the  palace  was  in- 
habited or  haunted  by  spirits  who  were  constantly 
watching  your  conduct,  and  who  hnd  power  to 
puni.sh  you  if  it  displeased  them  ;  and  that  you  were 
also  informed  at  the  same  time  of  the  course  of  con- 
duct which  it  would  be  necessary  to  pursue  in  order 
to  obtain  their  approbation.  How  careful  would  you 
be  to  observe  the  rules,  and  how  fearful  of  displeas- 
ing those  powerful  spirits  !  And  if  you  were  further 
informed  that  these  were  the  spirits  of  your  de- 
ceased parents,  and  that  they  were  able  to  hear  it 
you  addressed  them,  how  delightful  it  would  be  to 
go  and  tell  them  of  your  wants  and  sorrows,  and  feel 
sure  that  they  listened  to  you  with  sympathy  and 
compassion  !  I  tell  you,  this  world  is  haunted,  if  I 
may  so  express  it, — haunted  by  the  eternal  Spirit. 
He  has  given  you  rules  by  which  to  regulate  your 
conduct,  and  is  able  to  punish  every  deviation  from 
them.  And  can  you  recollect  that  such  a  hieing  is 
constantly  noticing  your  conduct,  and  still  persist 
in  disobeying  His  commands?  God  is  also  your 
heavenly  Father;  and  why  can  you  not  go  to  Him 
as  such,  with  the  same  confidence  which  you  would 
exercise  towards  an  earthly  parent  ?         — Salter. 

(2260.)  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  any 
thought  more  appalling  than  this  would  be,  did  this 
unseen  and  ever-present  Being  regard  us  with  un- 
friendly feelings.  A  prisoner  in  France  during  the 
great  Revolution  tells  us  of  the  torture  occasioned  by 
the  simi)le  fact,  that  through  a  hole  in  the  door  of 
his  cell  he  saw  the  eye  ol  the  sentinel  constantly 
watching  him  :  wherever  he  moved,  that  eye  fol- 
lowed him  ;  whatever  he  did,  that  eye  observed  him  ; 
it  was  fixed  on  him  when  he  went  to  sleep,  when 
he  awoke  it  was  still  there.  By  no  means  could  he 
escape  its  glance  even  for  a  moment.  It  glared  on 
him  incessantly  until  the  sight  of  it  became  almost 
intolerable.  And  it  is  dithcult  to  conceive  of  all 
the  agony  which  would  accrue  to  us  from  the  con- 
sciousness that  an  enemy,  unseen  by  us,  attended 
all  our  steps;  that  his  eye  was  upon  us  by  night  and 
by  day  ;  that  in  solitude  or  in  the  crowd — in  our 
places  of  business — at  home  or  in  the  street,  he 
never  left  us.  iiis  invisibility  would  render  us  un- 
able to  defend  ourselves  from  his  assaults,  were  we 
otherwise  capable  of  doing  so  ;  and  leaving  ns 
ignorant  of  his  intentions  and  movements,  would 
keep  us  in  a  state  of  torturing  suspense,  ever  fearing, 
and  not  knowing  how  soon,  he  might  gratify  his 
enmity  by  involving  us  in  ruin.  And  did  we  know, 
moreover,  that,  owing  to  his  great  power,  we  were 
completely  at  his  mercy,  and  that  his  will  would 
iufiFce  to  inflict  upon  us  the  most  excruciating  tortures 


— oh  !  then  the  thought  would  be  so  fraught  with 
horror  as  to  occasion  a  very  hell  on  earth — a  hell 
frcju)  which  even  the  bottomless  abyss,  or  the  black- 
ness of  darkness,  woukl  prove  a  welcome  refuge  ;  noi 
would  it  be  surprising  if  some,  by  a  suicidal  act, 
atteni])ted  to  obtain  relief  from  the  intolerable 
thought. 

And  what  cause  for  gratitude  have  we  that  a 
thought  which  might  be  so  fraught  with  horror,  may 
prove  to  all  of  us  the  source  of  unfailing  consola- 
tion !  The  character  of  God  is  such  that  tiie  man 
is  sadly  wrong  who  derives  no  comfort  from  the 
consciousness  of  His  presence.  — Landels. 

(2261.)  What  can  be  so  awfjl  zs  to  know  thai 
there  is  never  any  moment  at  which  what  we  do  ii 
not  entirely  naked  and  exposed  to  the  sight  of  God, 
just  as  surely  as  though  we  were  in  the  noon  day 
light,  before  an  assembled  universe  ?  Those  who, 
upon  occasions  of  ceremony,  are  in  the  presence  ol 
an  earthly  monarch,  have  an  incessant  feeling  ol 
constraint,  an  oppressive  sense  that  certain  forms 
of  respectful  etiquette  must  every  moment  be  kepi 
up.  How  infinitely  would  the  feeling  of  constraint, 
the  sense  of  subjection  to  another's  will,  be  in- 
creased, if  we  could  realise  in  a  similar  degree  the 
tremendous  presence  of  the  King  of  Kings,  wlio  is, 
in  truth,  never  absent  from  us  for  a  single  instant, 
who  not  only  sees  everything  which  we  do,  bul 
even  reads  the  most  secret  thoughts  and  desires  ot 
our  hearts  1  The  marvel  is,  that  we  can  live  on  in 
the  enjoyment  of  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  in  tha 
pursuit  of  our  lusts  and  appetites,  just  as  tiiough  no 
God  existed.  This,  melancholy  as  arc  some  of  its 
results,  1  take  to  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  ol 
the  many  proofs  which  a.-e  to  be  found  of  the 
wisdom  and  mercy  of  our  Creator.  We  are  able  to 
appreciate  the  continual  presence  of  God  as  a  pure 
act  of  abstract  reason,  just  as  we  are  able  to  know 
that  space  must  be  infinite,  and  that  there  must  be  a 
never-ending  eternity  ;  but  we  cannot  realise  any  0/ 
these  truths  as  hard,  tangible  facts,  in  the  .same  way 
that  we  realise,  by  their  contact  with  our  senses,  the 
existence  of  the  material  objects  of  the  world  around 
us — the  trees  and  rivers  we  admire,  the  food  we  eat, 
the  friends  we  love.  That  we  cannot  in  this  sub- 
stantial, matter-of-fact  way,  feel  the  coniinual 
presence  of  God,  is,  1  say,  a  merciful  and  loving 
provision  of  our  Maker.  For  it  is  clear  tliat  if  we 
could  do  so,  our  whole  moral  nature  wouki  be,  as 
it  were,  turned  upsitle  down.  To  begin  with,  we 
should  cease  to  be  free  moral  agents.  As  it  is  im- 
possible that  a  man,  trembling  on  the  edge  of  a 
precipice  or  threatened  with  instant  death  by  ship- 
wreck, could  indulge  in  any  besetting  sin,  so  it 
would  be  equally  impossible  that  he  could  do  so 
when  oppressed  with  the  conscious  presence  of  that 
awful  Being  who  can  at  a  breath  consign  him  to 
any  fate.  But  all  ]deasure  would  cease  too.  The 
foundation  of  all  our  enjoyment  consists  \p  the 
absence  of  restraint,  and  the  consciousness  of  poTer 
and  freedom  to  do  and  think  according  to  the  desire 
of  the  passing  moment.  A  man  mny  have  his  pride 
gratified  by  being  admitted  to  a  ceremonial  inter- 
view with  his  sovereign  upon  some  state  occasion  ; 
but  it  is  with  a  sense  of  relief  that  he  escapes  from 
the  kingly  presence,  and  gets  back  to  the  free  atmo- 
sphere of  ever)day  existence.  There  could  be  no 
enjo)nient  of  life  were  we  under  the  restraint  which 
would  be  necessarily  incidental  to  our  being  imbued 
with  a  continual  consciousness  of  the  presence  of 


GOD. 


(    388    ) 


COD. 


the  Almighty  Maker  of  all  things.  God  is  therefore 
like  an  august  and  wise  monarch,  who  does  not 
often  burden  llis  subjects  by  calling  them  into  His 
presence,  or,  if  He  does  so,  dispenses  with  11  is 
sceptre  and  his  robes,  and  meets  tliem  genially  w  ith 
condescending  friendship.  By  the  wise  and  holy  man 
the  presence  of  his  Almighty  King  is  always  fell 
and  known,  even  when  it  is  not  actually  perceived. 
He  ever  remembers  that  the  Monarch  is  in  His 
palace  to  rule  and  govern  and  direct,  even  when 
there  is  no  outward  pageant,  no  noisy  manife  talion 
of  external  power.  I'hus  the  presence  of  God 
becomes  a  settled  and  abiding  thing,  but  rather  as 
a  sweet  and  soothing  influence  than  a  hard,  tangible 
fact.  On  the  other  hand,  tlie  ungodly  man  can  for 
a  time,  so  to  speak,  cast  out  God's  presence.  He 
strives  to  forget  it  altogether,  and  for  the  most  part 
he  is  successful.  He  goes  on  in  his  own  sinlul,  sel- 
fish way,  living  outside  God's  presence,  until  the 
day  arrives  when  that  presence  can  no  longer  be 
evaded,  and  it  comes  with  all  the  terrors  of  eternal 
judgment.  God  has  left  abundant  witness  to  His 
existence  in  the  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness  which 
we  see  manifested  everywhere  throughout  the  world, 
liut  in  this  life  His  presence  coerces  no  man.  We 
can  live  with  or  without  God,  as  we  choose. 

— Hooper. 

(2262.)   God  is  behind  all  space.     What  a  solemn 
mystery   there  is   in  this    idea  of  space  !     Modern 
science  has  added  to  the  benefits  which  it  has  con- 
ferred  u])on  us,  this  also,  that  it  has  enlarged  our 
concejitions  of  space.     How   much  more  worthily 
we  are  enabled  to  think  of  the  universe  and  empire 
of  God  than  ti\ose  could  have  done,  who  regarded 
the  firmament  as  a   solid   shell   of  the   earth,  star- 
gemmed,  fixed  a  few  miles  above  it,  and  revolving 
around  it  for  the  purpose  of  alternating  day  and 
night  !     One  of  the   most  conspicuous  respects  in 
which  astronomy  has  proved  iierself  the  handmaid 
of  devotion,  has  been  by  revealing  to  us  in  part  the 
scale  on  which  the  universe  is  built.     What  heights 
and  depths  of  space  the  telescopes  of  Rosse   and 
Herschel    have    enabled   us    to  penetrate!      What 
awe  seizes  upon  the  soul,  as  viewed  through  their 
powerful  lenses  the  faint  nebulae  resolve  themselves 
into  clusters  of  shining    worlds,   and   through  the 
s])aces  between  these  worlds,  across  immeasurable 
and    inconceivable    distances,    other    nebulas    burst 
upon  the  astonished  vision  !  as  all  these  countless 
suns   and    systems    are    detected    to    be    revolving 
around  the  brightest  of  the  Pleiades  1     Is  that  to  us 
faint  star  the  centre  of  the  universe?     Is  it  there 
that  God  sits  entlironed  ?     Is  that   the  one  stable 
and  unmoving  orb  ?     Or  is  that  moving  too,  carry- 
ing the  innumerable  suns  and  worlds  that  are  linked 
on  to  it  around  some  vaster  centre?     Where  is  the 
centre  of  the  universe?    Where  is  its  circumference? 
How  far  must  we  travel  before  we  reach  a  margin 
beyond    which   space   does   not   extend?     Is  there 
such  a  margin  ?     But  though  we  had  reached   the 
last  world  that  revolves  around  the  great  unknown 
centre,  we  should  not  have  come  upon  a  tenantless 
void  :  we  should  still  be  in  the  presence  of  God,  in 
the  hollow  of  whose  hand  all  worlds  and  suns  and 
systems  lie.      "Whither,   O   Lord,  shall  I  go  from 
Thy  Spirit?  or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  Thy  pre- 
sence ?    If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven.  Thou  art  there  : 
if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behold,  Thou  art  there. 
If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in 
l^^e   uttermost    pai's  of  the    sea,    even  there  shall 


Thy  hand  lead  me,  and  Thy  right  hand  shall  hold 
me."  —R.  A.  Bertram. 

XIV.    HIS  OMNISCIENCE. 

(2263.)  God's  prescience,  from  all  eternity,  being 
but  the  seeing  everytliing  tliat  ever  exists  as  it  is, 
contingents  as  contingents,  necessary  as  necessary, 
can  neither  work  any  change  in  the  object  by  thus 
seeing  it,  nor  itself  be  deceived  in  what  it  sees. 

— Hammond,  1605-1666. 

(2264.)  God  looks  to  the  bottom  and  spring  of 
actions  ;  not  only  the  matter  but  the  principle.  A 
man  that  stands  by  a  river  in  a  low  place,  can  only 
see  that  part  of  the  river  that  passes  by  ;  but  he 
that  is  aloof  in  the  air,  in  a  higher  place,  may 
see  the  whole  course,  where  it  rises  and  how  it  runs. 
So  God  at  one  view  sees  the  beginning,  rise,  and 
ending  of  actions  ;  whatever  we  think,  speak,  or 
do,  He  sees  it  altogether.  He  knows  our  thoughts 
before  we  can  think  them, — "Thou  knowest  my 
down-sitting  and  my  up-rising  ;  Thou  understand- 
est  my  thoughts  afar  oft."  Before  we  can  conclude 
anything,  a  gardener  knows  what  roots  are  in  the 
ground  long  before  they  appear,  and  whz.t  fruiU 
they  will  produce.  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

(2265.)  Fore-knowledge  is  not  the  cause  of  the 
things  that  are  foreknown  ;  but  because  the  thing  is 
future  and  sliall  be,  that  is  the  reason  why  it  is  fore- 
known ;  for  it  doth  not,  because  it  was  known, 
come  to  pass,  but  because  it  was  to  come  to  pass, 
therefore  it  was  foreknown  ;  and  bare  knowledge  is 
no  more  the  cause  of  any  event,  which  because  it  is 
known  must  infallibly  be,  than  my  seeing  a  man 
run  in  the  cause  of  his  running,  which,  because  I 
do  see,  is  infallibly  so.      — Tillolson,  1630-1694. 

(2266.)  God's  knowledge  is  antecedent  to  the 
object,  quite  different  from  ours,  which  is  borrowed 
from  it,  and  so  subsequent  to  it.  As  the  knowledge 
that  a  builder  has  of  a  house  depends  not  upon  the 
actual  being  of  it  ;  but  he  knows  it,  partly  by  re- 
flecting on  his  skill,  in  which  he  sees  a  perlect  idea 
of  it  before  ever  it  is  made ;  and  partly  on  his 
power,  by  which  he  is  able  to  make  it  :  but  now 
others'  knowledge  depends  upon  the  actual  being 
of  the  house,  as  flowing  from  those  representations 
they  have  of  it  after  it  is  built.  And  such  is  our 
knowledge  in  respect  of  God's. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

(2267.)  God's  omniscience  should  indeed  make 
us  ashamed  to  commit  sin  :  but  it  should  emboldei 
us  to  confess  it.  We  can  tell  our  secrets  to  a  friend 
that  does  not  know  them  ;  how  much  more  should 
we  do  it  to  Him  that  knows  them  already  !  God's 
knowledge  outruns  our  confessions,  and  anticipates 
what  we  have  to  say.  As  our  Saviour  speaks  con- 
cerning prayer,  "Your  heavenly  Father  knows 
what  you  have  need  of  before  you  ask  ; "  so  I  may 
say  of  confession,  your  heavenly  Father  knows  what 
secret  sins  you  have  committed  before  you  confess. 
But  still  He  commands  this  duty  of  us  ;  and  that  not 
to  know  our  sins,  but  to  see  our  ingenuity.  Adam, 
when  he  hid  himself,  to  the  impiety  of  his  sin  added 
the  absurdity  of  a  concealment.  Our  declaring  of 
our  sins  to  God,  who  knows  them  without  being  be- 
holden to  our  relation  ;  it  is  like  opening  a  window 
to  receive  the  light,  which  would  shine  in  through 
it  howsoever.     Every  man  has  a  casement  in  his 


COD. 


(    389    ) 


GOD. 


bosom,  through  which  God  looks  in  upon  him 
every  day.  When  a  master  sees  his  servant  commit 
a  fault  in  secret,  and  thereupon  urges  him  to  a  con- 
fession, he  does  it.  not  so  much  to  know  the  fault 
as  to  try  the  man.  Now  there  is  no  duty  by  which 
we  give  Cod  the  glory  of  His  omniscience  so  much 
as  by  a  free  confession  of  our  secret  iniquities. 
Joshua  says  to  Achan,  "My  son,  give,  I  pray  thee, 
glory  to  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  and  make  confes- 
sion unto  Him."  —South,  1633-17 16. 

XV.  HIS    WISDOltT. 

(226S.)  As  a  beam  of  light  passing  through  a 
chink  in  a  wall,  of  what  figure  soever,  always  forms 
a  circle  on  the  place  where  it  is  reflected,  and  by 
that  describes  the  image  of  its  original,  the  sun, 
thus  God  in  every  one  of  His  v/orks  represents 
Himself  But  the  union  of  all  the  parts  by  such 
strong  and  sweet  bands,  is  a  more  pregnant  proof 
of  His  omnipotent  mind.  Is  it  a  testimony  of  great 
military  skill  in  a  general  to  range  an  army,  com- 
posed of  divers  nations  that  have  great  antipathies 
between  them,  in  that  order  as  renders  it  victorious 
in  battle?  And  is  it  not  a  testimony  of  infinite 
providence  to  dispose  all  the  hosts  of  heaven  and 
earth  so  as  they  join  successfully  for  the  preservation 
of  nature?  .  .  .  Sophocles  was  accused  by  his 
ungrateful  sons,  that  his  understanding  being  de- 
clined with  his  age,  he  was  unfit  to  manage  the 
affairs  of  his  family  ;  he  made  no  other  defence 
before  the  judges,  but  recited  part  of  a  tragedy 
newly  composed  by  him,  and  left  it  to  their  decision, 
whether  there  was  a  failure  in  his  intellectual  facul- 
ties :  upon  which  he  was  not  only  absolved  but 
crowned  with  praises,  — Bates,  1625-1699. 

XVI,  HIS   POWER. 

(2269.)  The  proud  king  of  Babylon  commanded 
the  numerous  nations  under  his  empire  to  prostrate 
themselves,  like  brutes,  in  the  lowest  admiration  of 
the  image  lie  set  up;  and  when  the  three  Hebrew 
young  men  refused  to  give  divine  honour  to  it,  he 
threatened,  "If  ye  worship  not,  ye  shall  be  cast  the 
same  hour  into  the  midst  of  a  burning  fiery  furnace; 
and  who  is  that  God  that  shall  deliver  you  out  of 
my  hands?"  This  is  the  language  of  a  man  (poor 
dust  !)  that  can  heat  a  furnace  with  fire,  and  has  a 
squadron  of  soldiers  ready  upon  the  least  intimation 
of  his  pleasure  to  throw  into  it  any  that  disobeyed,  as 
if  no  power  either  in  heaven  or  earth  could  rescue 
them  from  him.  It  was  im])ious  folly  in  him  that 
thus  spake  :  but  God  can  give  order  to  deaih  to 
seize  on  the  stoutest  rebel,  and  cast  him  into  an 
eternal  furnace,  and  say  in  truth.  Who  shall  deliver 
out  of  my  hands?  His  power  reaches  beyond  the 
grave.  Tiberius  intending  to  put  to  death  by  slow 
and  exquisite  torments  one  who  killed  himself,  cried 
out  in  a  rage,  "  Carnulius  has  made  an  escape  from 
me  !  "  But  no  sinner  can  by  dying  escape  God's 
justice ;  for  death  itself  takes  the  condemned,  and 
delivers  them  to  endless  torments, 

— Bates,  1 625- 1 699. 

(2270.)  Power  is  that  glorious  attribute  of  God 
Almighty  which  furnishes  the  rest  of  His  perfections. 
'Tis  His  omnipotence  that  makes  His  wisdom  and 
goodness  effectual,  and  succeed  to  the  length  of  His 
will.  Thus,  His  decrees  are  immutable,  and  llis 
counsels  stand  ;  this  secures  His  prerogative,  and 
^ards   the   sovereignty  of  His   being;  'twas  llis 


power  which  made  His  ideas  fruitful,  and  struck 
the  world  out  of  His  thought.  'Twas  this  which 
answered  the  model  of  the  creation,  gave  birth  to 
time  and  nature,  and  brought  them  forth  at  His 
first  call :  thus.  He  spake  the  word,  and  they  were 
made ;  He  commanded,  and  they  were  created. 
'Tis  the  divine  power  which  is  the  basis  of  all 
things  ;  which  continues  the  vigour  of  the  second 
causes,  and  keeps  the  sun  and  moon  in  repair.  This 
holds  everything  constant  to  appointment,  and  true 
to  the  first  plan  :  thus  the  revolutions  of  the  seasons, 
the  support  of  animals,  the  perpetuity  of  species,  is 
carried  on  and  maintained.  Without  this,  things 
would  soon  riot,  and  ramble  out  of  distinction  ;  the 
succours  of  life  would  be  cut  off,  and  nature  drop 
into  decay.  Omniscience  and  goodness  without  a 
correspondent  power  would  be  strangely  short  of 
satisfaction  :  to  know  everything  without  being  able 
to  supply  defects  and  remedy  disorders,  must  prove 
an  unpleasant  speculation  ;  to  see  so  many  noble 
schemes  languish  in  the  mind  and  prove  abortive, 
to  see  the  most  consummate  M'isdom,  the  most 
generous  temper,  fettered  and  disarmed,  must  be  a 
grievance  :  but  when  omnipotence  comes  into  the 
notion,  the  grandeur  is  perfect  and  the  pleasure 
entire.  — Jereiny  Collier,  1 650-1 726. 

{2271.)  Now,  though  in  a  just  idea  of  the  Deity 
perhaps  none  of  His  attributes  are  predominant, 
yet,  to  our  imagination.  His  power  is  by  far  the 
most  striking.  Some  reflection,  some  comparing, 
is  necessary  to  satisfy  us  of  His  wisdom,  llis  justice, 
and  His  goodness.  To  be  struck  with  His  power, 
it  is  only  necessary  that  we  should  open  our  eyes. 
But  whilst  we  contemplate  so  vast  an  object,  under 
the  arm,  as  it  were,  of  almighty  power,  and  invested 
upon  every  side  with  omnipresence,  we  shrink  into 
the  minuteness  of  our  own  nature,  and  are,  in  a 
manner,  annihilated  before  Him.  And  although  a 
consideration  of  His  other  attributes  may  relieve,  in 
some  measure,  our  apprehensions,  yet  no  conviction 
of  the  justice  with  which  it  is  exercised,  nor  the 
mercy  with  which  it  is  tempered,  can  wholly  remove 
the  terror  that  naturally  arises  from  a  force  which 
nothing  can  withstand.  If  we  rejoice,  we  rejoice 
with  trembling  ;  and  even  whilst  we  are  receiving 
benefits,  we  cannot  but  shudder  at  a  power  which 
can  confer  benefits  of  such  mighty  importance, 

— Burke,  172S-1797. 

(2272.)  What  an  immense  workman  is  God  in 
miniature  as  well  as  in  the  great  !  With  the  one 
hand,  perhaps.  He  is  making  a  ring  of  one  hundred 
thousand  miles  in  diameter,  to  revolve  round  a 
planet  like  ISaturn,  and  with  the  other  is  forming  a 
tooth  in  the  ray  of  the  feather  of  a  hummingbird, 
or  a  point  in  the  claw  of  the  foot  of  a  microscopic 
insect.  When  He  works  in  miniature,  everything 
is  gilded,  polished,  and  perfect ;  but  whatever  is 
made  by  human  art,  as  a  needle,  &c.,  when  viewed 
by  a  microscope,  appears  rough,  and  coarse,  and 
bungimg.  — E.  Law,  1703-1S45. 

(2273.)  The  upholding  of  the  world  is  a  continual 
causing  of  it  ;  and  diffeieth  from  creation,  as  the 
contmued  shining  of  a  candle  doth  from  the  first 
lighting  of  it.  If  therefore  the  creation  do  wonder- 
fully declare  the  power  and  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  God,  so  also  doth  tlie  conservation.  And  noce 
that  God's  ordinary  works  are  as  great  demonstra- 
tions of  Him  in  all  His  perfections  as  His  exira- 
ordinary.     Is  it  not  as  great  a  declaration  of   the 


COD. 


(    390    ) 


COD 


power  of  God,  that  He  causes  the  sun  to  shine,  and 
to  keep  its  wondrous  course  from  age  to  age,  as  if 
He  did  such  a  thing  but  for  a  day  or  hour  ?  and  as 
if  He  caused  it  to  stand  still  a  day  ?  And  is  it  not 
a;  great  a  demonstration  of  His  knowledge  also, 
and  of  His  goodness?  Surely  we  should  take  it  for 
as  great  an  act  of  love,  to  have  plenty,  and  health, 
and  joy  continued  to  us  as  long  as  we  desired  it,  as 
(or  an  hour.  Let  not  then  that  duration  and  ordi- 
nariness of  God's  manifestations  to  us,  which  is 
their  aggravation,  be  looked  upon  as  if  it  were  their 
extenuation  ;  but  let  us  admire  God  in  the  sun  and 
stars,  in  sea  and  land,  as  if  this  were  the  first  time 
that  ever  we  have  seen  them. 

—BaiUer,  1615-1691. 

(2274.)  Another  ground  on  whic\  men  come  to 
despise  God's  word,  and  to  disregard  or  reject 
Christianity,  is  confounding  with  and  in  the  exercise 
of  this  reason,  God's  physical  and  moral  omni- 
potence. It  appears  at  first,  perhaps,  that  there  is 
no  difference  ;  but  there  is  really  a  great  one.  They 
are  notwithstanding  often  conlounded.  If  God  be 
omnipotent,  why  did  not  He  prevent  man  falling? 
If  God  be  omnipotent  and  wish  everybody  to  be 
saveil,  why  does  not  He  save  everybody  at  once? 
If  God  have  all  power,  why  does  He  allow  any  to 
perish  ?  The  right  answer  to  all  this  is,  God's 
omnipotence  governs  the  solar  system,  but  He  does 
not  keep  planets  in  their  orbits  by  the  Ten  Command- 
ments. The  two  things  have  no  connection  with 
each  other.  So  God  s  moral  omnipotence  governs 
the  intellect  of  man,  but  He  does  not  govern  it  by 
the  law  of  gravitation.  The  law  of  gravitation  is 
that  by  which  He  governs  the  orbs  and  the  planets  ; 
moral  law,  moral  government,  moral  truth,  is  that 
by  which  He  governs  His  responsible  and  in- 
telligent children.  If  you  confound  the  two,  you 
land  in  mischief  and  confusion  ;  if  you  distinguish, 
you  will  see  that  if  man  is  to  be  what  he  is — an 
intelligent,  responsible  being — he  is  not  to  be  con- 
ducted from  earth  to  heaven  as  a  locomotive  engine 
is  driven  from  London  to  Edinburgh,  placed  upon 
its  groove,  and  propelled  mechanically  along  ;  he 
is  to  be  moved  by  motives,  by  hopes,  by  fears,  by 
reasoning,  by  fact  ;  and  if  he  resist  all,  it  is  not  want 
of  light,  but  something  that  has  gone  wrong  with.in 
him,  and  that  must  be  put  right  before  he  can  be 
governed  or  righted  himself.  — Cumming. 

XVII.  HIS   HOLINESS. 

(2275.)  God  had  revealed  His  holiness  to  Israel  ; 
and  He  wished  them  to  consider  it  the  "beauty" 
of  His  nature.  If  we  take  a  portrait  of  a  man,  we 
try  to  represent  his  face,  not  hi.->  hand,  nor  his  back, 
nor  his  foot  ;  we  try  to  delineate  his  beauty,  to 
refresh  our  minds  with  that  which  is  most  memorable 
and  distinguishing  in  his  exterior  semblance  ;  so, 
while  the  hand  and  finger  of  God  denote  His  power 
and  skill,  and  His  throne  is  used  for  majesty  and 
dominion.  He  considers  His  holiness  as  the  true 
lustre  of  His  character,  as  that  by  which  He  will  be 
best  known.  We  read  of  "the  beauty  of  His 
holiness,"  that  He  is  "  glorious  in  holiness  ;  "  and 
that  this  beauty  of  the  Lord  is  to  be  found  in  His 
holy  temple  — Reynolds. 

XVIII.  HIS    RELATION   TO   SIN. 
1.  He  Is  not  the  author  of  sin. 

(2276.)  There  is  a  vast  difference  between  the 
CUD  being  the  cause  of  the  lightsomeness  and  warmth 


of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  brightness  of  gold  and 
diamonds,  by  its  presence  and  positive  influence ; 
and  its  being  the  occasion  of  darkness  and  frost,  <n 
the  night,  by  its  motion,  whereby  it  descends  below 
the  horizon.  The  motion  of  the  sun  is  the  occasion 
of  the  latter  kind  of  events  ;  but  it  is  not  the  proper 
cause,  efficient,  or  producer  of  them,  though  they 
are  necessarily  consequent  on  that  motion,  under 
such  circumstances  :  no  more  is  any  action  of  the 
Divine  Being  the  cause  of  the  evil's  wills.  If  the 
sun  were  the  proper  cause  of  cold  and  darkness,  it 
would  be  the  fountain  of  these  things,  as  it  is  the 
fountain  of  light  and  heat :  and  then  something 
might  be  argued  from  the  nature  of  cold  and  dark- 
ness, to  a  likeness  of  nature  in  the  sun  ;  and  it  might 
be  justly  inferred,  that  the  sun  itself  is  dark  and 
cold,  and  that  his  beams  are  black  and  frosty,  liut 
from  its  being  the  cause  no  otherwise  than  by  its 
departure,  no  such  thing  can  be  inferred,  but  the 
contrary  ;  it  may  justly  be  argued,  that  the  sun  is  a 
blight  and  hot  Ijody,  if  cold  and  darkness  are  found 
to  be  the  consequence  of  its  withdrawment  ;  and  the 
more  constantly  and  necessarily  these  effects  are 
connected  with  and  confined  to  its  absence,  }ie 
more  strongly  does  it  argue  the  sun  to  be  iiic 
fountain  of  light  and  lieat.  So,  inasmuch  as  sin  is 
not  the  fruit  of  any  positive  agency  or  influence  of 
the  Most  High,  but,  on  the  contrary,  arises  from 
the  withholding  of  His  action  and  energy,  and, 
under  certain  circumstances,  necessarily  follows  on 
the  want  of  His  influence  ;  this  is  no  argument  that 
He  is  sinful,  or  His  operation  evil  ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  that  He  and  His  agency  are  altogether 
good  and  holy,  and  that  He  is  the  fountain  of  all 
holiness.  It  would  be  strange  arguing,  indeed,  be- 
cause men  never  commit  sin,  but  only  when  God 
leaves  them  to  themselves,  and  necessarily  sin  vvlien 
He  does  so,  that  therefore  their  sin  is  not  Jtom 
themselves,  but  from  God  ;  and  so,  that  God  must 
be  a  sinful  being  :  as  strange  as  it  would  be  to  argue, 
because  it  is  always  dark  when  the  sun  is  gone,  and 
never  dark  vvhen  the  sun  is  present,  and  therefore 
all  darkness  is  from  the  sun,  and  that  his  disk  and 
beams  must  needs  be  black. 

— Jonathan  Edwards,  1637-1716. 

(2277.)  God  is  no  more  the  Author  of  sin  than  the 
sun  is  the  cause  of  ice;  but  it  is  in  the  nature  of 
water  to  congeal  into  ice  when  the  sun's  iiilluence 
is  suspended  to  a  certain  degree.  So  there  is  sin 
enough  in  the  hearts  of  men  to  make  the  earth  the 
very  image  of  hell,  and  to  prove  that  men  are  no 
better  than  incarnate  devils,  were  He  to  suspend 
His  influence  and  restraint.  Sometimes,  and  in 
some  instances,  He  is  pleased  to  suspend  it  con- 
siderably ;  and,  so  far  as  He  does,  human  nature 
quickly  appears  in  its  true  colours. 

— Newton,  1 725-1807. 

2.  He  tempts  no  man  to  sin. 

(2278.)  A  man  has  a  servant  who  is  a  thief,  and 
yet  the  servant  would  be  esteemed  for  an  honest 
man  ;  so,  to  try  him,  his  master  leaveth  his  purse 
full  of  money  before  him  ;  if  his  servant  steal  it,  is 
he  not  a  thief,  and  does  he  not  declare  himself  lo 
be  such  a  one?  Yes,  undoubtedly.  And  now,  who 
made  him  a  thief,  the  master  or  the  money  which 
was  left  where  he  might  come  by  it?  Surely  neither 
of  them,  for  the  money  is  the  good  creature  of  God; 
and  when  the  masier  put  it  before  his  servant,  he 
did  not  compel  him  to  take  it  and  steal  it.     If  this 


COD. 


(    391     ) 


GOD. 


Bsrvant  had  been  an  honest  man,  he  would  not  have 
touched  it,  or  if  he  had  taken  it,  he  would  have 
brought  it  back  to  his  master  and  not  have  kept  it ; 
but  seeing  that  the  servant  was  aheady  a  thief,  and 
had  his  heart  given  to  iheft,  when  he  had  the  oc- 
casion to  put  into  execution  the  wicked  affection  of 
his  heart,  he  did  it.  And  whereas  he  did  it  no 
sooner,  that  was  because  that  he  had  not  the 
occasion  and  mean> ;  for  if  occasion  had  been  sooner 
offered  to  him,  and  if  he  had  found  whereto  to  reach 
out  his  hand,  he  would  not  have  kept  it  in  ;  and 
when  he  began  to  put  forth  his  hand,  he  not  only 
then  began  to  be  a  thief,  but  he  began  to  declare 
himself  what  he  was.  As  we  have  the  example  in 
Judas,  who  was  a  thief  a  long  time,  but  lie  never 
showed  it  until  he  had  an  opportunity  :  even  so, 
although  God  hath  given  the  occasion  to  man  to 
prove  and  try  him,  and  to  cause  him  to  make  known 
that  which  is  in  his  heart,  it  followeth  not  therefore 
that  God  hath  done  the  sin  or  is  the  Author  of  it,  or 
that  we  must  impute  the  fault  to  Him  and  not  to 
the  man  who  hath  committed  it. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

8.  In  what  sense  He  hardens  the  heart. 

(2279.)  The  obstinacy  of  Pharaoh  was  properly 
his  own.  It  is  true,  we  are  assured  that  God 
hardened  his  heart  ;  but  we  are  not  thereby  war- 
ranted to  suppose  that  God  is  the  author  of  the  sin, 
which  He  hates  and  forbids.  It  is  written  again, 
that  "God  cannot  be  tempted  with  evii,  neither 
tempteth  He  any  man,"  and  the  scripture  is  to  be 
interpreted  consistently  with  itself.  It  would  be 
absurd  to  ascribe  darlcness  or  ice  to  tlie  agency  of 
the  sun,  though  both  inevitably  follow  if  the  light 
and  heat  of  the  sun  be  withdrawn  to  a  certain 
degree.  A  degree  of  heat  is  necessary  to  keep 
water  in  that  state  of  fluidity  which  we  commonly 
suppose  essential  to  its  nature ;  but  it  is  rather 
essential  to  the  nature  of  water  to  harden  into  ice, 
if  it  be  deprived  of  the  heat  which  is  necessary  to 
preserve  it  in  a  fluid  state  ;  and  the  hardest  metals 
will  melt  and  flow  like  water,  if  heat  be  proportion- 
ably  increased.  Thus  it  is  with  the  heart  of  fallen 
man.  In  whatever  degree  it  is  soft  and  impressive, 
capable  of  feeling  and  tenderness,  we  must  attribute 
it  to  the  secret  influence  of  the  Father  and  Fountain 
of  light  ;  and  if  He  is  pleased  to  withdraw  His 
influence,  nothing  more  is  needful  to  its  complete 
induration.  — Newton,  1725-1807. 

4.  His  permission  of  sin. 

(2280.)  The  wisdom  of  God  is  seen  in  this,  that 
the  sins  of  men  shall  carry  on  God's  work  ;  yet  that 
He  should  have  no  hand  in  their  sin.  The  Lord 
permits  sin,  but  doth  not  approve  it.  He  hath  a 
hand  in  the  action  in  which  sin  is,  but  not  in  the 
sin  of  the  action.  As  in  the  crucifying  of  Christ,  so 
far  as  it  was  a  natural  action,  God  did  concur  ;  if 
He  had  not  given  the  Jews  life  and  breath,  they 
could  not  have  done  it :  but  as  it  was  a  sinful  action, 
so  God  abhorred  it.  A  musician  plays  upon  a  viol 
out  of  tune  :  the  musician  is  the  cause  of  the  sound, 
but  the  jarring  and  discord  is  from  the  viol  itself. 
So  men's  natural  motion  is  from  God,  but  their  sin- 
ful motion  is  from  themselves.  A  man  that  rides  on 
a  lame  horse,  his  riding  is  the  cause  why  the  horse 
goes,  but  the  lameness  is  from  the  horse  itself. 
Herein  is  God's  wisdom,  the  sins  of  men  shall  carry 
on  His  work,  yet  He  hath  no  hand  in  them. 

—  Watsotiy  1696. 


5.  His  hatred  of  Bin. 

(2281.)  It  is  not  every  unclean  thing  that  offends 
the  sight  :  while  the  slightest  stain  upon  some  things 
will  excite  in  us  deep  dislike ;  the  feeling  depends 
entirely  upon  the  nature  of  the  thing,  and  the  pur- 
pose to  which  it  is  applied.  We  pass  by  an  unclean 
stone  unnoticed  ;  it  is  unconscious  of  its  state,  and 
meant  to  be  trampled  under  foot.  But  rising  a  step 
higher  in  the  scale  of  creation,  to  an  unclean  ])Iant, 
we  become  conscious  of  a  slight  emotion  of  dislike  ; 
because  we  see  that  which  might  have  pleased  the 
eye,  and  have  beautified  a  spot  in  the  creation,  dis- 
figured and  useless.  An  unclean  animal  creates  our 
dislike  still  more,  for,  instead  of  proving  useml  in 
any  way,  it  is  merely  a  moving  pollution.  But  an 
unclean  human  being  excites  our  loathing  more  than 
all  ;  it  presents  our  nature  in  a  light  so  disgusting 
that  it  lessons  our  pity  for  him  if  he  be  miserable, 
and  excites  in  us  ideas  of  disease,  contamination,  and 
pain.  But  an  unclean  spirit — it  is  loathsome  above 
all  things,  it  is  the  soul  and  essence  of  pollution,  it 
is  the  most  unclean  object  in  the  universe,  it  is  the 
spectacle  which  excites  the  deep  dislike  of  God  1 1  im- 
self.  His  dislike  of  it  is  the  more  intense,  because 
originally  it  was  pure,  and  capable  of  making  per- 
petual advances  towards  divine  perfection  ;  whereas 
now  it  presents  itself  to  His  eye,  robbed  of  all  its 
purity,  and  defiled  in  all  its  powers,  a  fountain  of 
pollution.  — SalUr. 

(2282.)  God  Himself,  we  have  always  understood, 
hates  sin  with  a  most  authentic,  celestial,  and  eter- 
nal hatred.  A  hatred,  a  hostility,  inexorable,  un- 
appeasable, which  blasts  the  scoundrel,  and  all 
scoundrels  ultimately,  into  black  annihilation  and 
disappearance  from  the  sum  of  things.  The  path  of 
it  is  the  path  of  a  flaming  sword  :  he  that  has  eyes 
may  see  it,  walking  inexorable,  divinely  beautiful 
and  divinely  terrible,  through  the  chaotic  gulf  of 
human  history,  and  everywhere  burning,  as  with 
unquenchable  fire,  the  false  and  the  deadworthy 
from  the  true  and  lifeworthy  ;  making  all  human 
history,  and  the  biography  of  every  man,  a  God's 
Cosmos  in  place  of  a  Devil's  Chaos.  So  it  is  in  the 
end  ;  even  so,  to  every  man  who  is  a  man,  and  not 
a  mutinous  beast,  and  has  eyes  to  see. 

—  Thomas  Carlyle. 

6.  He  willeth  not  the  death  of  the  sinner. 

(2283.)  A  mariner  in  a  storm  would  very  fain  save 
his  goods,  but,  to  save  the  ship,  he  heaves  them 
overboard.  A  tender-hearted  mother  corrects  her 
child,  whereas  the  stripes  are  deeper  in  her  heart 
than  in  its  flesh.  As  it  was  said  by  a  judge  about 
to  give  sentence  of  death  upon  an  offender,  "  1  do 
that  good  which  I  would  not:"  thus  God,  more 
lovin"  than  the  careful  mariner,  more  tender  than 
the  indulgent  mother,  and  more  merciful  than  the 
pitiful  judge,  is  willingly  unwilling  that  any  sinner 
should  die.  He  punisheth  no  man  as  he  is  a  man, 
but  as  he  is  a  sinful  man.  He  loves  him,  yet  turns 
him  over  to  justice.  It  is  God's  work  to  punish, 
but  it  is  withal  His  "strange  work,"  His  strange 
and  foreign  act,  not  "  His  good  will  and  pleasure," 
His  nature  and  property  being  to  have  mercy  on 
all  men.  — Spencer,  1658. 

(22S4.)  Imagine  a  poor  mother  obliged  to  let  fall 
the  blade  of  the  guillotine  upon  the  neck  of  hei 
child  ;  such  is  tne  good  God  when  He  condemns  a 
sinner.  — Vianney. 


GOD, 


(    392    ) 


GOD. 


T.  His  compassion  for  sinners. 

(2285.)  A  man  is  asked,  "Are  you  a  father?" 
"Tes,"  he  replies.  "  Have  you  a  son?"  "  Yes." 
*'Do  you  love  him?"  "Better  than  my  life." 
"  Does  he  ever  do  wrong?  "  "  Yes."  "  When  he 
does  wrong,  how  do  you  feel?"  "I  feel  indignant, 
because  1  love  him  so  ;  for  wrong  in  one  that  I  love 
is  like  a  sore  in  my  heart."  Now,  from  such  an 
experience  as  this,  do  you  not  begin  to  have  an 
interpretation  of  what  God's  feeling  is  towards  sin  ? 
Do  you  not  have  it  in  your  own  experience?  Can 
you  understand  how  God  hates,  not  the  sinner,  but 
the  sin  that  is  a  spot  upon  His  beloved  child,  from 
the  hatred  that  you  feel  toward  the  vices  and  wicked- 
ness that  disfigure  your  child,  because  you  so  love 
that  child  ? 

"Well,"  you  say,  "if  God  is  so  holy,  and  just, 
and  true,  does  He  not  destroy  sinners?"  When 
your  child  has  been  gambling,  and  you  first  find  it 
out,  do  you  draw  a  line,  and  say  to  him,  "If  ever 
you  transcend  that  line  again,  I  will  exclude  you 
fiom  my  house?"  Some  persons  take  this  course, 
and  every  one  blames  them.  They  are  not  true 
parents.  The  fatherhood  and  motherhood  is  not 
deep  in  such  hearts  as  theirs.  What  does  a  parent 
do  for  a  child  that  goes  wrong?  Is  there  anything 
that  you  have  in  your  house  that  you  would  not 
give  to  redeem  a  wandering  son  ?  Is  there  any 
property  that  you  would  not  willingly  part  \\\\\\  to 
get  him  out  of  trouble,  and  to  hide  his  disgrace? 
If  to  live  on  a  crust,  if  to  drink  only  water  from  the 
spring,  and  eat  only  roots  from  the  ground,  would 
reform  the  child  of  your  heart,  would  you  not  give 
all  your  means,  and  think  that  you  had  bought  him 
back  cheaply  ?  Nay,  more  than  that,  if  for  his  sake 
it  was  necessary  that  you  should  bear  with  him  ; 
that  you  would  lie  awake  nights  till  your  whole 
heart  was  like  a  furnace  of  fire  ;  that  you  should  be 
mortified  in  your  pride,  disappointed  in  your  ex- 
pectation, or  wounded  in  your  affections,  would  you 
not  willingly  submit  to  the  necessity?  If,  in  carry- 
ing his  burden  or  bearing  his  sorrow,  there  was  a 
glimmer  of  hope  that  in  ten  or  fifteen  years  you 
could  save  your  child,  would  you  not  cheerfully 
suffer  on  in  his  behalf? 

Now,  when  it  is  said  that  God  carries  our  sor- 
rows and  bears  our  sins,  is  there  no  light  thrown 
upon  the  statement  by  the  experience  of  the  parent 
in  bringing  up  his  child?  And  when  it  is  said  that 
God  hates  sin,  is  there  no  light  thrown  upon  the 
statement  by  the  feelings  of  the  parent  toward  the 
sin  in  the  child?  And  is  it  because  the  parent  does 
not  care  for  the  sin  that  he  bears  with  it  ?  Is  there 
any  one  that  realises  how  hateful  sin  is  so  much  as 
the  parent  who  is  bearing  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
child  ? 

And  when  your  child  comes  back  to  you  and 
says,  "  P'ather,  I  am  reformed,  but  I  may  not  be 
able  to  walk  entirely  right  ;  1  understand  what  you 
have  done  for  me  ;  I  feel  it  ;  and  I  am  taking 
another  course  of  life,  but  I  may  stumble  on  the 
way;"  oh,  with  what  inexpressible  tenderness  do 
you  receive  him  !  Why,  the  child  does  not  know 
how  to  be  glad.  It  takes  a  father  or  a  mother  to 
be  glad. 

When  I  stood  in  Antwerp,  and  heard  the  chime 
of  some  fifty  or  sixty  bells,  I  could  not  bear  to  go 
anywhither,  lest  I  should  get  out  of  the  sound  of 
those  exquisite  peals  that  rolled  every  hour,  and 
half-hour,  and  quarter-hour,  filling  the  air  with  a 
weird  and  yet  wondc  rful  sweetness ;  and  I  thought 


to  myself,  "There,  just  such  are  all  the  feelings  ol 
a  father's  heart,  when  it  is  lifted  up  with  hope,  and 
all  things  ring  at  every  hour,  and  half-hour,  and 
quarter-hour,  and  minute,  of  the  return  of  some 
wandering  child."  And  does  the  experience  ol 
that  father  whose  child  has  begun  to  come  back 
from  a  career  of  wrongdoing  give  you  no  concep- 
tion of  God's  feelings  when  the  sinner  begins  to 
return  to  a  life  of  virtue?  How  sweet  it  is!  how 
deep  it  is  !  how  real  it  is  !  Do  not  stop  at  any  legal 
question.  Do  not  wait  till  you  can  reconcile  law 
and  grace.  Take  the  idea  of  your  earthly  father 
and  apply  that  to  God,  and  it  will  give  you  the 
best  view  of  the  gladness  of  God  at  the  sinner's 
reformation  which  it  is  possible  for  the  human  mind 
to  conceive  of. 

And  when  the  child  who  has  wr^ndered  frota  the 
true  path  returns,  and  though  he  strives  e^crnestly 
to  live  aright,  after  the  first  or  second  day  (alters, 
so  that  the  father  sees  that  there  is  a  rcJapse,  or 
falls,  so  that  he  bears  the  marks  of  con'^itmnation, 
does  the  father  say,  "If  that  is  your  ieljrmaticn,  I 
am  weary  of  you  ;  you  made  me  many  t-jkx  promises, 
but  you  have  broken  them,  and  I  wi'.i  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  you?"  On  the  concrary,  he  says, 
"My  son,  I  feared  that  if  you  mingled  with  your 
old  associates  you  would  fall.  Now  help  your- 
self by  me.  I  will  go  with  you  and  sustain  you. 
I  will  forget  this  fall.  It  came  near  taking  away 
all  that  you  had  gained  ;  but  do  not  be  discour- 
aged. You  must  lean  more  on  me.  You  must  not 
trust  yourself  till  you  are  strong  enough  to  s'and 
alone."  The  father  thinks  almost  moie  of  the 
child  than  the  child  does  of  himself.  From  this 
familiar  experience  of  parental  life,  do  you  not  get 
a  conceptiofi  of  the  Divine  patience  with  men  in 
their  helplessness,  and  of  the  training  and  educat- 
ing force  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  ? 

— Beecher. 

(2286.)  Any  ethical  system  which  teaches  that 
God  is  so  pure  that  there  is  a  vast  void  between 
Him  and  the  needy,  sinful  soul,  and  which  has  a 
tendency  to  make  men  fear  to  go  to  Him  on  account 
of  His  great  purity,  is  a  false  system.  God's  purity 
is  one  of  His  most  glorious  attributes,  but  it  is  used 
to  slander  and  misinterpret  His  nature,  A  right 
view  of  God  is  one  which  presents  Him  as  a  Being ' 
who,  just  in  the  proportion  that  we  are  impure, 
draws  us  to  Him  that  we  may  be  purified. 

When  a  man  is  hungry,  he  looks  for  him  who 
has  the  loaf.  When  a  man  is  sick,  he  looks  for  him 
who  has  the  medicine.  When  a  man  is  perishing 
in  the  stream,  and  has  struggled  to  the  shore,  and 
cannot  get  out,  he  cries  to  him  who  has  strength. 
The  soul  that  is  sinful  goes  to  Him  who  has  purity 
to  be  cleansed.  And  a  view  that  presents  any 
other  God  but  One  who  says,  "  Behold,  in  Me  is 
your  salvation,"  is  a  false  view. 

Any  view  wliich  presents  God  as  a  Being  whose 
justice  shall  make  sinners,  who  wish  to  return  to 
Him,  unable  to  do  so,  is  a  false  view.  Public  senti- 
ment and  public  law  are  like  ramparts  around  a 
city.  As  long  as  a  man  is  inside  of  the  ramparts, 
they  defend  him,  but  the  moment  he  is  outside  of 
them,  they  treat  him  as  an  enemy,  and  he  cannot 
get  back,  but  is  exposed  to  the  sweep  of  artillery. 
As  long  as  a  man  stands  inside  of  the  ramparts  of 
public  sentiment  and  law,  he  gets  along  well  enough, 
but  the  moment  he  chances  to  get  outside  of  them, 
all  men  declare  him  to  be  an  outcast.     You  might 


COD. 


(     393    ) 


GOD. 


as  well  attempt  to  climb  up  the  steep  sides  of  Mount 
Sinai,  as  up  the  human  heart  when  it  has  set  itself 
to  punish  those  who  have  done  wrong.  PubUc 
sentiment  and  law  may  save  a  man  before  he  has 
done  wrong,  but  they  damn  him  after  he  has  done 
wrong.  But  not  so  with  God.  The  way  to  Him 
is  down  hill.  Up  hill  is  down  hill  if  it  be  toward 
God  !  If  we  are  in  danger,  in  Him  is  safety.  If 
we  have  done  wrong,  in  Him  is  the  remedy.  He  is 
the  sun  that  shows  us,  when  we  are  in  darkness, 
where  to  go  ;  He  is  the  bright  and  morning  star 
that  makes  our  dawn  and  twilight  come  to  us  ;  He 
IS  our  way  ;  He  is  our  staff;  He  is  our  shepherd  ; 
He  is  our  sceptred  king,  to  defend  us  from  our 
adversaries  j  He  is  All,  in  all,  to  all ! 

— Beecher, 

XIX.  HIS  WILL  MUST  BE  THE  RULE  OF 
OUR  LIFE. 

{2287.)  If  a  man  lay  a  crooked  stick  upon  an 
even  level  ground,  the  stick  and  ground  ill  suit  to- 
gether, but  the  fault  is  in  the  stick  ;  and  in  such  a 
case,  a  man  must  not  strive  to  bring  the  even 
ground  to  the  crooked  stick,  but  bow  tlie  crooked 
stick  even  with  the  ground.  So  is  it  between  God's 
will  and  ours,  there  is  a  discrepancy  and  jarring 
betwixt  them  ;  but  where  is  the  fault  ?  or  rather, 
where  is  it  not  ?  not  in  the  will  of  God,  but  in  our 
crooked  and  corrupt  affections  ;  in  which  case  we 
must  not  like  Balaam  seek  to  bring  God's  will  to 
ours,  but  be  contented  to  rectify  and  order  the 
crookedness  of  our  '.vills,  by  the  rectitude  and 
sanctity  of  the  will  of  God,  which  must  be  the  ruler 
and  moderator  of  our  wills  ;  for  which  cause  we  are 
to  cry  out  with  David,  "  Teach  me,  O  Lord,  to  do 
Thy  will ;"  and  with  the  whole  Church  of  God,  in 
that  pattern  of  wholesome  words,  "Thy  will  be 
done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven  ; "  never  forgetting 
that  too  of  Christ  Jesus  Himself  in  the  midst  of  His 
agiiny  and  bloody  sweat,  "  Father,  not  my  will,  but 
'Ihiiie  be  done"  (Luke  xxii.  42). 

—Augustine^  354-430- 

XX,    HIS  ANGER, 

1.  Is  a  divine  perfection. 

(2288.)  Lord  Shaftesbury  attempts  to  satirise  the 
Scripture  representations  of  the  Divine  character. 
"One  would  think,"  he  says,  "it  were  easy  to 
understand  that  provocation  and  offence,  anger,  re- 
venge, jealousy  in  point  of  honour  or  power,  love  of 
fame,  glory,  and  the  like,  belong  only  to  limited 
beings,  and  are  necessarily  excluded  from  a  Being 
which  is  perfect  and  universal."  That  many  things 
are  attributed  to  the  Divine  Being  in  a  figurative 
style,  speaking  merely  after  the  manner  of  men,  and 
that  they  are  so  understood  by  Christians,  Lord 
Shaftesbury  must  have  well  known.  We  do  not 
think  it  lawful,  however,  so  to  explain  away  these 
expressions  as  to  consider  the  Great  Supreme  as  in- 
capable of  being  offended  with  sin  and  sinners,  as 
destitute  of  pleasure  or  displeasure,  or  as  uncon- 
cerned about  His  own  glory,  the  exercise  of  which 
involves  the  general  good  of  the  universe.  A  being 
of  this  description  would  be  neither  loved  nor 
feared,  but  would  become  the  object  of  universal 
contempt. 

It  is  no  part  of  the  imperfection  of  our  nature  that 
we  are  susceptible  of  provocation  and  offence,  of 
inger,  of  jealousy,  and  of  a  just  regard  to  our  own 


honour.  Lord  Shaftesbury  himself  would  have  ridi- 
culed the  man,  and  still  more  the  aiagistrate,  that 
should  have  been  incapable  of  these  properties  oa 
certain  occasions.  They  are  planted  in  our  nature 
by  the  Divine  Being,  and  are  adapted  to  answer 
valuable  purposes.  If  they  be  perverted  and  abused 
to  sordid  ends,  which  is  too  frequently  the  case,  this 
does  not  alter  their  nature,  nor  lessen  their  utility. 
What  would  Lord  Shaftesbury  have  thought  of  a 
magistrate  who  should  have  witnessed  a  train  of 
assassinations  and  murders  witliout  being  in  the 
least  offended  at  them,  or  angry  with  the  perpetrators, 
or  inclined  to  take  vengeance  on  them  for  the  public 
good?  What  would  he  think  of  a  British  House  of 
Commons  which  should  exercise  no  jealousy  over 
the  encroachments  of  a  minister  ;  or  of  a  king  of 
Great  Britain  who  should  suffer  with  perfect  in^.if- 
ference  his  just  authority  to  be  contemned. 

—Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815, 

(22S9.)  One  day  Sadi  was  reading  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, but  suddenly  he  closed  the  book,  and  looked 
stern  and  serious. 

Allmed  perceived  it,  and  asked  the  youth  :  "  What 

ails  thee,  Sadi  ?  why  does  thy  countenance  change  ?  " 

Sadi   answered,    "The  Scripture  speaks  here  of 

the  wrath  of  God,  and  in  other  places  He  is  called 

Love.     This  seems  hard  and  contradictory." 

Then  his  master  said  calmly,  "Shall  not  the 
Scriptures  speak  humanly  to  human  beings?  Thou 
takest  no  offence  when  mortal  members  are  attri- 
buted to  the  Most  High." 

"No,"  said  the  youth,  "  that  is  innocent  figura- 
tive language ;  but  anger " 

Then  Allmed  interrupted  him,  saying,  "I  wiji 
relate  to  thee  a  tale.  There  lived  two  rich  mer- 
chants in  Alexandria  who  had  two  sons  of  equal  age. 
They  sent  them  to  Ephesus  on  affairs  of  their  trade. 
Both  youths  had  been  well  taught  in  the  faith  of 
their  fathers. 

"  When  they  had  lived  for  some  time  at  Ephesus, 
they  were  dazzled  by  the  splendour  and  the  pleasures 
of  the  town,  and  were  seduced  to  deny  the  faith  of 
their  fathers,  and  to  bow  down  in  idolatrous  wor- 
ship in  the  temple  of  Diana. 

"A  friend  in  Ephesus  communicated  this  to 
Kleon,  one  of  the  fathers  in  Alexandria.  When 
Kleon  had  read  the  letter,  he  was  grieved  in  his 
heart,  and  very  wroth  with  the  young  man.  Then 
he  went  to  the  other  and  told  him  of  their  apostasy 
and  his  grief. 

"  But  the  other  laughed,  and  said,  '  If  my  son 
carry  on  his  trade  the  better  for  it,  I  shall  easily 
console  myself 

"Then  Kleon  turned  away  from  him,  and  his 
anger  increased." 

Now  Allmed  said  to  the  youth,  "Which  of  these 
two  fathers  seemeth  to  thee  the  wiser  and  better  ?  " 

Sadi  answered  and  said,  "  He  who  was  angry." 

"And  who,"  asked  his  tutor,  "wzs  the  most 
loving  father  ?  " 

The  youth  answered  again,  "  He  who  was 
angry." 

"  But  was  not  Kleon  angry  with  his  child  ?  "  asked 
Allmed. 

And  Sadi  answered,  "  Not  with  his  child,  but  with 
his  a]->ostasy  and  transgression." 

"What  seemeth  to  thee  to  be  the  origin  of  such 
anger  at  transgression  ?  "  asked  the  master. 

And  the  youth  answered,  •'  The  holy  love  oi 
truth." 


GOD. 


( 


394 


GOD. 


**  Behold,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "if  thou 
only  art  able  to  explain  the  divine  by  the  divine, 
thou  wilt  no  longer  take  offence  at  the  human 
word." 

When  Sadi  had  sat  for  some  time  in  thought,  he 
looked  at  his  tutor  ;  and  Allmed  said  to  him,  "  Thou 
seemest  not  yet  satisfied, — a  question  is  on  thy 
lips." 

Then  the  youth  answered  and  said,  "  Yes,  my 
father,  it  seemeth  to  me  very  daring  to  speak  in  such 
a  way  of  the  Highest  and  Purest." 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  old  man,  "  it  is  a  human  ex- 
pression, and  I  commend  the  fear  of  thy  heart.  But, 
baliold,  my  Sadi,  when  the  faithless  son,  after  ac- 
knowledging his  fall,  may  have  thought  in  an  hour 
of  repentance  of  the  time  of  his  innocence  and  his 
pious  father,  how  thinkest  thou  would  then  the  heart 
of  his  father  have  appeared  to  him,  even  if  he  were 
Dot  wroth  ?  " 

"Ah,"  said  the  youth,  "I  understand  thee,  my 
father.  His  father  must  have  appeared  angry  to 
him — and  the  Holy  Scriptures  speak  to  a  fallen 
race."  — F.  A.  Krummacher. 

(2291D.)  At  this  first  step  we  might  reason  on  the 
testimony  if  we  pleased,  instead  of  accepting  it,  and 
raise  the  objection  that  to  imagine  passion  in  God, 
especially  so  turbid  a  passion  as  anger,  conflicts 
with  our  notions  of  His  character,  and  degrades 
Him  in  our  apprehensions.  Beware!  remember 
that  in  forming  an  estimate  of  the  character  and 
proceedings  of  Go  1,  we  are  but  little  children  form- 
ing an  estimate  of  the  character  and  proceedings  of 
a  man  of  matured  experience.  Were  it  not  more 
reasonable,  as  well  as  more  reverent,  to  accept  what 
He  says,  and  to  leave  llim  afterwards  to  clear  up 
any  mystery  which  may  envelop  His  nature?  I 
can  indeed  conceive  in  liim  nothing  turbid,  im- 
petuous, or  impulsive,  such  as  sullies  the  clearness 
of  the  human  will.  But  this  I  can  conceive,  that 
there  is  in  Him  some  high  perfection  (more  incom- 
prehensible to  my  finite  capacity  than  the  specu- 
lations of  an  astronomer  to  a  peasant  child),  of  which 
anger  is  the  most  adequate  exponent  to  my  mind, 
and  which  I  must  be  content  to  think  of  and  speak 
of  as  anger,  or  else  to  remain  in  total  ignorance  of 
it.  And  this  also  I  can — not  only  conceive,  but 
most  readily  assent  to,  that  in  an  absolutely  perfect 
nature  there  should  be  an  utter  abhorrence  of,  and 
antipathy  to,  moral  evil,  most  justly  represented  to 
simple  minds  by  the  terms  "anger,"  "curse.''  We 
have  never  seen  a  perfect  character ;  no  perfect 
character,  save  one,  ever  moved  upon  the  earth  : 
but  the  righteous  man,  who  is  striving  after  and 
approximating  to  perfection,  has  often  crossed  our 
path  ;  and  surely  we  have  marked  in  him,  that  the 
more  righteous  he  is,  the  more  doth  he  abhor  (in 
the  language  of  Holy  Scri[iture)  everything  that  is 
evil.  What  is  the  effect  upon  one  who  breathes 
habitually  the  atmospliere  of  communion  with  God, 
of  catching  in  the  current  tidings  of  the  day  the 
intelligence  of  some  awful  outburst  of  depravity? 
When  such  an  one  passes  on  an  errand  of  mercy 
through  the  crowded  alleys  of  a  great  city,  and  the 
shouts  of  malignant  execration  and  profaneness  ring 
in  his  ear,  or  scenes  of  impurity  are  paraded  before 
his  eye,  with  what  feeling  does  he  encounter  these 
sym|)toms  of  human  degradation  ?  Are  they  not 
lil<e  a  foul  odour  to  his  nostrils,  or  a  jarring  note  to 
his  ear,  or  an  abortion  to  his  sight?  Does  he  not 
ItLTD  away  with  loathing,  and  recoil  from  such  scenes 


and  such  sounds  with  an  antipathy  strong  in  pro- 
portion to  his  goodness?  And  is  it,  then,  so  hard 
to  conceive  that  in  perfect  goodness  there  may  be  a 
recoil  from  moral  evil,  something  similar  in  kind  to 
this,  though  infinitely  stronger  in  degree?  .•\n<l  is 
not  such  a  recoil  righteous,  and  a  token  of  riglueous- 
ness?  — Goiuburn. 

2.  Its  terrlbleness. 

(2291.)  The  greatness  of  divine  wrath  appears  in 
this,  that  though  we  may  attempt  it  in  our  thougi.ts, 
yet  we  cannot  bring  it  within  the  comprehensions  of 
our  knowledge. 

And  the  reason  is,  because  tilings,  which  are  the 
proper  objects  of  feeling,  are  never  perfectly  known, 
but  by  being  felt.  We  may  speak  indeed  high 
words  of  wrath  and  vengeance,  but  pain  is  not  lelt 
in  a  discourse.  VVe  may  as  well  taste  a  sound,  and 
see  a  voice,  as  gather  an  intellectual  idea  of  misery  ; 
which  is  conveyed,  not  by  apprehension,  but  by 
smart ;  not  by  notion,  but  liy  experience. 

Survey  the  expressions  of  Scripture,  and  see  it 
there  clothed  and  set  forth  in  "  fire  anil  brimstone," 
in  "  the  worm  that  never  dies,"  in  "  utter  darkness," 
in  "  weeping  and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth." 
But  what  are  all  these  but  shadows  !  mere  sinuli- 
tudes,  and  not  things  !  condescensions,  rather  than 
instructions  to  our  understanding  !  poor  figurative 
essays,  where,  contrary  to  the  nature  of  rhetoric,  the 
figure  is  still  beneath  the  truth. 

Fire  no  more  represents  God's  wrath,  than  the 
picture  of  fire  itself  represents  its  heat  ;  and  for  the 
proof  of  this,  let  the  notional  believer  be  an  un- 
answerable argument,  who  reads,  sees,  and  hears  all 
these  expressions,  and  yet  is  not  at  all  moved  by 
them  ;  which  sufficiently  shows  that  there  is  no  hell 
in  the  description  of  hell. 

But  now,  there  is  no  man  who  has  actually  passed 
under  a  full  trial  of  God's  wrath  ;  none  alive  who 
ever  encountered  the  utmost  of  God's  anger  ;  and  if 
any  man  should  hereafter  try  it,  he  would  perish  in 
the  trial,  so  that  he  could  not  report  his  experience. 
This  is  a  furnace  that  consumes  while  it  tries  ;  as 
no  man  can  experimentally  inform  us  what  death  is, 
because  he  is  destroyed  in  the  experiment. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

3.  Its  manifestations. 

(2292.)  It  inflicts  immediate  blows  and  rebukes 
upon  the  conscience.  There  are  several  passages 
m  which  God  converses  with  the  soul  immediately 
by  Himself;  and  these  are  always  the  most  quick 
and  efficacious,  whether  in  respect  of  comfort  or  of 
terror. 

That  which  comes  immediately  from  God,  has 
most  of  God  in  it.  As  the  sun,  when  he  darts  his 
beams  in  a  direct  perpendicular  line,  does  it  most 
forcibly,  because  most  immediately. 

Now  there  are  often  terrors  upon  the  mind,  which 
flow  thus  immediately  from  God,  and  therefore  are 
not  weakened  or  refracted  by  passing  through  'he 
instrumental  conveyance  of  a  second  cause  ;  or 
that  which  passes  through  a  thing,  is  ever  con- 
tracted according  to  the  narrowness  of  its  passage. 
God's  wrath,  inflicted  by  the  creature,  is  like  poison 
administered  in  water,  where  it  finds  an  allay  in  the 
very  conveyance. 

But  the  terrors  here  spoken  of,  not  being  inflicted 
by  the  intermediate  help  of  anything,  but  being 
darted  forthwith  from  God  Himself,  arc  by  this  in- 
com   arably  more  strong  and  piercing. 

When  God  wounds  a  man  by  the  loss  of  an  estate. 


GOD. 


(  395    ) 


GOD. 


of  his  health,  of  a  relation,  the  smart  is  but  com- 
mensurate to  the  thing  which  is  lost,  poor  and  finite. 
But  when  He  Himself  employs  His  whole  omnijio- 
tence,  and  is  Himself  both  the  archer  and  the 
arrow,  there  is  as  much  difference  between  tiiis  and 
the  former,  as  when  a  house  lets  fall  a  cobweb,  and 
when  it  falls  itself  upon  a  man. 

<Jod  strikes  in  that  manner  that  He  swears; 
never  so  effectually  as  when  only  "by  Himself." 
A  man  striking  with  a  twig  does  not  reach  so 
dreadful  a  blow,  as  wiien  he  does  it  with  his  fist  ; 
and  so  makes  himself  not  only  the  striker  but  the 
weapon  also. 

These  immediate  blows  of  God  upon  the  soul, 
seem  to  be  those  tilings  that  in  the  Psalms  (xxxviii. 
2)  are  called  "God's  arrows:"  they  are  strange, 
sudden,  invincible  amazements  upon  the  spirit,  leav- 
ing such  a  damp  upon  it,  as  defies  the  faint  and 
weak  cordials  of  all  creature-enjoyments.  The 
■wounds  which  God  Himself  makes,  none  but  God 
Himself  can  cure.  — South,  1637-1716, 

(2293.)  God's  anger  exerts  itself  by  embittering 
of  atfiictions.  Every  affliction  is  of  itself  a  griev- 
ance, and  a  breach  made  upon  our  hajipiness ;  but 
there  is  sometimes  a  secret  energy,  that  so  edges 
and  quickens  its  afflictive  operation,  that  a  blow 
levelled  at  the  body  shall  enter  into  the  very  soul. 
As  a  bare  arrow  tears  and  rends  the  flesh  before  it  ; 
but  if  dipped  in  poison,  as  by  its  edge  it  pierces,  so 
by  its  adherent  venom  it  festers. 

We  do  not  know  what  strength  the  weakest 
creature  has  to  do  mischief,  when  the  Divine  wrath 
shall  join  with  it  ;  and  how  easily  a  small  calamity 
will  sink  the  soul,  when  this  shall  hang  weights 
upon  it. 

What  is  the  reason  that  David  is  sometimes  so 
courageous,  that,  "  though  he  walks  through  the 
shadow  of  death,  yet  he  will  fear  no  evil"?  And 
at  another  time,  "God  no  sooner  hides  His  face, 
but  he  is  troubled,"  as  Psalm  xxx.  7.  What  is  the 
cause  that  a  man  sometimes  breaks  through  a  greater 
calamity,  and  at  another  time  the  same  person  fails 
and  desponds'  under  a  loss  of  the  same  nature?  I 
say,  whence  can  this  be,  but  that  God  infuses  some 
more  grains  of  His  wrath  into  one  than  into  the 
other  ? 

Men  may  undergo  many  plagues  from  God,  and 
yet  by  the  enchantment  of  pleasures,  the  magic  of 
worldly  diversions,  they  may,  like  Pharaoh,  harden 
their  hearts,  and  escape  the  present  sting  of  them. 
But  when  God  shall  arm  a  plague  with  sensible, 
lively  mixtures  of  His  wrath,  lielieve  it,  this  will  not 
be  enchanted  away  ;  but  the  sinner,  like  those  magi- 
cians (whether  he  will  or  no),  must  be  forced  to 
confess,  "that  it  is  the  f^.nger  of  God,"  and  conse- 
quently must  bend  and  lie  down  under  it. 

God  may  cast  a  man  into  prison,  nail  him  to  the 
bed  of  sickness,  yet  still  He  may  continue  master 
of  his  comforts  ;  because  the  sun  may  shine  while 
the  shower  falls.  The  soul  may  see  the  light  of 
God's  countenance,  while  it  feels  the  weight  of  His 
hand. 

But  for  God  to  do  all  these  things  in  anger,  and 
to  mark  the  prints  of  His  displeasure  and  His  in- 
dignation upon  every  blow  ;  this  alters  the  whole 
dispensation,  and  turns  it  from  a  general  passage  of 
Providence  into  a  particular  design  of  revenge. 

It  is  like  a  deep  water,  scalding  hot,  which  as  it 
•rowns,  so  at  the  same  time  it  redoubles  its  fatal 
4ifluence,  also  burns  to  death.     An  unwholesome 


air  will  of  itself  make  a  man  sick  and  indisposed; 
but  when  it  is  infected,  and  its  native  malignity 
heightened  with  a  superadded  contagion,  then  pre- 
sently it  kills. 

An  1  such  a  difference  is  there  between  afflictions 
in  themselves,  and  afflictions  as  they  are  fired,  poi- 
soned, and  enlivened  with  God's  wrath. 

— South,  1 633-1 716. 

(2294.)  It  shows  and  exerts  itself  by  cursing  of 
enjoyments.  We  may,  like  .Solomon,  have  all  that 
wit  can  invent,  or  heart  desire,  and  yet  at  last,  with 
the  same  Solomon,  sum  up  all  our  accounts  in 
"vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. " 

There  is  a  "pestilence  that  walks  in  darkness," 
a  secret,  invisible  blow,  that  smites  the  first-born  of 
all  our  comforts,  and  straight  we  find  them  dead, 
and  cold,  and  sapless  ;  not  answering  the  quickness 
of  desire,  or  the  grasp  of  e.xpectation.  Goii  can 
send  a  worm  to  bile  the  gourd,  while  it  flourishes 
over  our  heads  ;  and  while  He  "gives  riches,"  deny 
a  "  heart  to  enjoy  them." 

For  whence  is  it  else,  that  there  are  some  who 
flourish  with  honours,  flow  with  riches,  swim  with 
the  greatest  affluence  of  plenty,  and  all  other  the 
materials  of  delight  ;  and  yet  they  are  as  discon- 
tented, as  dissatisfied  as  the  poorest  of  men  ? 

Care  rises  up  and  lies  down  with  them,  sits  upon 
their  pillow,  waits  at  their  elbow,  runs  by  their 
coaches  ;  and  the  grim  spirits  of  fear  and  jealousy 
haunt  their  stately  houses  and  habitations. 

I  say,  whence  is  this,  but  from  a  .secret  displeasure 
of  God,  which  tal<es  out  tne  vitals,  the  heart,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  enjoyment,  and  leaves  them  only 
the  caput  vioi'tuum  of  the  possession. 

—^oiith,  1 633-1 7 16. 

XXI.    HtS  LONGSUFFERING. 
1.  Its  cause. 

(2295.)  There  is  nothing  more  wonderful  than 
God's  forbearance  with  sinners.  Their  foul  deeds 
are  all  done  in  His  sight  ;  their  vile  utterances  are 
all  spoken  in  His  hearing  ;  their  sins  are  utterly 
offensive  to  Him  ;  they  fill  Him  with  disgust,  and 
loathing,  and  anger;  and  yet,  though  He  has  all 
power,  and  could  crush  them  in  a  moment,  He 
spares  them  !  Nay,  He  does  them  good  ;  He  causes 
new  mercies  to  descend  upon  them  every  day  ;  and 
when  at  last  He  does  proceed  to  punish  them  for 
their  transgressions.  He  does  so  with  reluctance  and 
regret  ;  it  is  with  tears  that  He  pronounces  the 
sentence  of  their  doom. 

What  is  the  cause  of  this  wonderful  forbearance 
and  of  this  strange  compassion  ?  The  cause  is  two- 
fold. 

(I.)  There  is  first  God's  reluctance  to  inflict  pairu 
He  is  described  to  us  as  the  "blessed,"  or  more 
correctly,  as  the  "happy  God."  It  is  His  delight 
to  diffuse  happiness  around  Him.  In  His  presence 
there  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  at  His  right  hand  there 
are  pleasures  for  evermore.  The  sun  does  not  so 
overflow  with  light  as  He  does  with  benevolence. 
His  loving-kindness  reaches  farther  than  the  sun's 
rays,  llis  tender  mercies  are  over  all  His  works. 
The  gladness  that  thrills  in  the  song  of  the  lark, 
and  that  exults  in  the  song  of  the  seraph,  is  alike 
inspired  by  Him  ;  and  so  qr'ck  are  Mis  sensibilities, 
and  so  wide  the  range  of  His  sympathy,  that  He 
rejoices  in  the  joy  of  His  creatures,  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest.     Imagine  then,  if  you  can,  with  what 


GOD. 


(    396    ) 


COD. 


reluctance  He  lifts  that  hand,  which  continually  He 
opens  to  fill  them  with  good,  to  smite  them  and 
cause  them  pain.  "  He  doth  not  afflict  willingly, 
nor  grieve  the  children  of  men." 

(2.)   Then,  ne.\t,  there  is  their  relationship  to  Him. 
Sinners   though   they   are,    they  are    His  children. 
Search  out  the  wickedest  and  vilest  man  in  all  this 
country,    a  wretch  who   is  disgusting  in  his  degra- 
dation, and  what  will   you   have  found  ?    You  v.-ill 
have  found  one  of  God's  children,  whom  He  loves 
with  infinite  tenderness,  for  whom  He  has  profound 
compassion,  and  whom   He  is  loth  to  exclude  fiom 
His  mercies.     He  is  a  prodigal,  he  has  tried    His 
patience   grievously,   and  often  provoked    Him  to 
anger,  but  yet  he  is  His  child.     There  is  no  greater 
grief,    no    more    terrible    calamity,    no    more    un- 
endurable shame,   than  a  wicked,  profligate  child. 
But  that  son  must  have  sinned  aL;ainst  his  father's  love 
long  and  desperately,  wliom,  if  he  have  sinned  also 
against  the  laws  of  his  country,  if  he  has  been  guilty 
of  theft  or  forgery,  his  father  will  take  wiih  his  own 
hands  and    deliver  up  to  justice.     What   father  is 
there  of  you,  who  if  his  prodigal  son  came  fleeing 
to  his  door  for  refuge  from  the  pursuit  of  the  officers 
of  the  law,  would  not  rather  shelter  than  surrender 
him  ?    But  if  there  is  such  almost  inexhaustible  love 
and  compassion  in  the  heart  of  a  human  father  for 
his  child,  what  feeling  for  His  children  must  there 
be  in  the  lieart  of  God,  whose  tenderness  and  pity 
the  most  self-sacrificing  human  affection  reflects  and 
represents  more  faintly  than  does  the  most  distant 
planet  the  radiant  glory  of  the  sun  ! 

Tliis  is  the  explanation  of  His  wonderful  forbear- 
ance with  sinful  men  and  guilty  nations.  "  It  is  of 
the  Lord's  mercies  that  we  are  not  consumed,  be- 
cause His  compassions  fail  not." 

— R.  A.  Bertram, 
2.  Its  teiTors. 

(2296.)  As  water  is  deepest  where  it  is  the  stillest, 
so  where  God  is  most  silent  in  threatening  and 
patient  in  sparing,  there  He  is  most  inflamed  with 
anger  and  purpose  of  revenge  ;  and,  therefore,  the 
fewer  the  judgments  be  that  are  poured  forth  upon 
the  wicked  in  this  life,  the  more  are  reserved  in 
store  for  them  in  the  life  to  come. 

—  Cawdray,  1609, 

(2297.)  May  sinners  conclude  that  there  is  perfect 
peace  between  God  and  them,  because  the  terrible 
effects  of  liis  fury  do  not  actually  roar  against 
them?  Are  they  therefore  finally  discharged,  be- 
cause they  are  not  presently  called  to  an  account  ? 
No,  certainly,  for  every  sin  stands  registered  in  the 
black  book  of  heaven,  and  that  with  all  its  circum- 
stances and  particularities  ;  and  consequently  has 
the  same  sting,  and  guilt,  and  destructive  quality, 
as  if  it  were  actually  tearing  and  lashing  the  sinner 
with  the  greatest  horror  and  anguish  of  mind  ima- 
ginable. And  no  man  knows  how  soon  God  may 
let  loose  the  tormenting  power  of  sin  upon  his  con- 
science ;  how  soon  He  may  set  fire  to  all  that  fuel 
that  lies  dormant  and  treasured  up  in  his  sinful 
breast.  This  he  may  be  sure  of,  that,  whensoever 
God  does  so,  it  will  shake  all  the  powers  of  his 
soul,  scatter  his  easy  thoughts,  and  lay  all  the  brisk- 
ness and  jollity  of  his  secure  mind  in  the  dust.  A 
murdering  piece  may  lie  still,  though  it  be  charged, 
and  men  may  walk  by  it  and  over  it  safe,  and  with- 
out any  fear,  though  all  this  while  it  has  death  in 
the  belly  of  it ;  but  when  the  least  spark  comes  to 
fire  and  call  forth  its  killing  powers,  every  one  will 


fly  from  its  fatal  mouth,  and  confess  that  it  carriee 
death  with  it.  Just  so  it  is  with  the  divine  wrath  j 
nobody  knows  the  force  of  it,  till  it  be  kindled. 

But  now  God  has,  by  a  perpetual  decree,  awarded 
the  sad  sentence  of  "tribulation  and  anguish  upon 
every  soul  of  man  that  doeth  evil."     So  that,  if  He 
gives  not  the  sinner  his  portion  of  sorrow  here,  it  is 
to  be  feared   He  has  it  in  full  reserve  for  him  here- 
after.     Upon  which  account,   the  present  quiet  of 
his  condition   is  so   far   from   ministering  any  just 
cause  of  satisfaction  to  .him,  that  he  has  reason  to 
beg   upon    his    knees,    that    God    would    alter    the 
method  of  His  proceeding,   and  rather  compound 
and  strike  him  with  some  present  horror   for  sin, 
than  sink  him  under  the  unsupportable  weight  of  an 
eternal  damnation.      When  a  man  must  either  have 
his   flesh  cut  and   burnt,   or  die  with  a  gangrene, 
would  he  not  passionately  desire  the  surgeon  to  cut, 
and   burn,    and    lance   him,    and    account    him   his 
friend  for  all  these  healing  severities?     This  is  the 
sinner's  case  ;  and  therefore  when,   upon  his  com- 
mission of  any  great  sin,  God  seems  to  be  silent, 
and   to  connive,  let  him  not  be  confident,  but  fear. 
For  one  may    sometimes  keep   silence,   and   smile 
too,  even  out  of  very  anger  and  indignation.     If  the 
present   bill   of  his  accounts  be  but  small,   it  is  a 
shrewd  argument  that  there  is  a  large  reckoning 
behind.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(2298.)  Since  we  know  God  to  be  grievously  dis- 
pleased with  sin,  there  is  something  awful  in  His 
keeping  silence,  while  it  is  committed  under  His 
eye.  If  a  child  comes  home  conscious  of  having 
offended  a  parent,  and  the  parent  says  nothing  all 
that  night,  but  merely  looks  very  grave,  the  child  is 
more  frightened  than  he  would  be  by  a  sharp  re- 
buke, or  severe  punishment  ;  for  if  such  rebuke  or 
punishment  were  inflicted,  he  would,  at  least,  know 
the  Worst ;  but  when  the  parent  is  silent,  he  knows 
not  what  may  be  hanging  over  him.  So,  when  we 
remember  how  many  things  plainly  offensive  to  God 
are  going  on  all  around  us,  it  is  a  terrible  thought 
that  He  is  still  silent.  We  fear  that  He  is  but 
getting  ready  to  take  vengeance  on  those  who  dtfy 
Him.  And  so  that  passage,  which  we  have  quoted 
from  the  Psalms,  carries  on  the  train  of  thought  in 
what  follows:  "God  is  a  righteous  judge,  strong 
and  patient ;  and  God  is  provoked  every  day.  If  a 
man  will  not  turn,  He  will  whet  liis  sword:  He 
hath  bent  His  bow,  and  made  it  ready." 

In  countries  where  earthquakes  happen,  a  dead 
silence  always  goes  before  the  earthquake.  Nature 
seems  hushed  into  an  awful  stillness,  as  if  she  were 
holding  her  breath  at  the  thought  of  the  coming 
disaster.  The  air  hangs  heavily  ;  not  a  breath  fans 
the  leaves  ;  the  birds  make  no  music  ;  there  is  no 
hum  of  insects  ;  there  is  no  ripple  of  streams ;  and 
this  while  whole  houses,  and  even  cities  sometimes, 
are  hanging  on  the  brink  of  ruin.  So  it  is  with 
God's  silence, — it  will  be  followed,  when  it  seems 
deepest,  by  the  earthquake  of  His  judgments.  And 
so  the  holy  Apostle  writes  to  the  Thessalonians  : 
"When  they  shall  say.  Peace  and  safety"  (from  the 
fact  of  God's  being  so  still,  and  so  dumb),  "  then 
sudden  destruction  cometh  upon  them,  as  travail 
upon  a  woman  with  child,  and  they  shall  not 
escape."  — Goulbum. 


(2299.)  On  account  of  His  essential  righteousness, 
God  must  punish  iniquity  ;  but  because  He  is  in- 
finite in  mercy,  He  would   save  the  transgressors. 


GOD. 


C    397    ) 


COD, 


«nd  in  His  lonfj-suffering  He  waits,  as  in  the  time  of 
Noah,  in  order  that  those  who  have  provoked  Him 
to  anger  may  have  full  opportunity  to  turn  to  Him 
and  live.  "The  Lord  is  not  slack  concerning  His 
promise,  as  some  men  count  slackness,  but  is  long- 
suffciing  to  us-ward,  not  willing  that  any  should 
pexish,  but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance.  But 
the  day  of  the  Lord  will  come:" — "Behold  the 
day  Cometh  that  shall  burn  as  an  oven  ;  and  all  the 
pTOud,  yea,  and  all  that  do  wickedly,  shall  be  stubble ; 
and  the  day  that  comelh  shall  burn  them  up,  saith 
the  Lord  of  hosts,  that  it  shall  leave  them  neither 
root  nor  branch." 

We  may  see  a  rough  image  of  this  suspension  of 
the  Divine  vengeance  against  sin,  and  of  the  real 
terrors  of  that  suspension,  which  only  a  timely  re- 
pentance can  avert,  in  the  mountain  torrent  swollen 
by  the  melting   of  the  winter's  snow.      At  first  a 
sudden    fuller  flow    announces    to   the    inhabitants 
of  the  valley  that  the  thaw  has  commenced.     But 
the  increasing  of  the  waters  suddenly  ceases,  not  to 
the  contentment,  Init   to   the  alarm,  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  valley  below.     It  inspires  their  fear  and 
arouses  tlieir  energies.     Instantly  they  sally  out  with 
axe  and  hook  and  cord.     Mark  how  eagerly  they 
climb  the  rugged  slippery  hill.     They  know  that  the 
present  quietude  of  the  torrent  tells  of  future  disaster. 
It  is  a  plain  indication   to  them  that  some  tree  has 
floated  down  the  current,  and  by  the  whirling  of  the 
waters    in    the    narrow   channel    has    been    forced 
athwart  the  stream  ;  thr.t  there  is  being  rapidly  con- 
structed a  natural  dam,  behind  which  the  flood  will 
gather,  and  seethe,  and  swell,  and  rage,  with  ever- 
increasing  fuiy,    until  it  carries  all   before  it,    and 
bursts  with  devastating  volume  and    force  on   the 
farms  and  fields  below  ;  and  the  purpose  of  those  men 
who  are  hastening  upwards  is  to  let  out  the  flood  be- 
fore it  has  assumed  these  dangerous  proportions.     In 
like  manner  the  guilty  and  impenitent  have  as  little 
reason  to  be  at  ease  "  because  sentence  against  an 
evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily."     On  the  con- 
trary, that  very  fact  should  arouse  them  to  an  instan- 
taneous repentance  ;  for  while  in  mercy  the  long- 
suffering  of  God  as  a  mighty  dam  obstructs  the  forth- 
flowing  of  His  righteous  vengeance,  when  in  judg- 
ment  it   is  at   length   removed,   the   terrors  of  the 
wrath  of  their  outraged  God  will  be  in  exact   pro- 
portion  to   the   space   in    which  it   was   treasured 
up.  1^ 

Or  still  more  forcibly  you  may  see  emblemed  the 
gathering  of  God's  vengeance  on  account  of  sin  in 
the  gathering  of  the  vapour  on  a  summer  day.  Go, 
stand  upon  the  cliff,  and  with  keenest  eye  survey  the 
ocean's  expanse,  and  you  cannot  detect  the  vapour 
ascending.  But  yet  you  know  it  is  rising,  rising 
ever,  rising  without  intermission,  rising  always  in 
greater  volume  ;  and  you  know  that  between  you 
and  the  sun  is  floating  an  atmosphere  of  vapour,  now 
perceptibly  dulling  the  light,  but  which  it  needs 
only  a  change  of  wind  to  condense  into  cloud.  You 
know  that  in  yon  soft,  calm,  lustrous,  stainless  dome 
of  blue  are  already  stored  all  the  elements  of  tem- 
pests, and  thunderings,  and  flaming  fires.  The  ex- 
hortation of  our  text  is  addressed  to  tliose  between 
whom  and  the  source  of  all  true  light  and  prosperity 
a  vapour  of  unrequited  wrong  floats  ;  and  the  penalty 
denounced  is,  that  if  they  do  not  heed  this  warning, 
this  v.iuour  will  be  condensed  into  cloud,  and  those 
who  despised  the  merciful  continuance  of  the  light 
be  brought  into  darkness  and  disaster. 

— K.  A.  Bertram' 


3.  The  danger  of  abusing  it. 

(2300.)  As  wet  wood,  although  it  be  long  In 
burning,  yet  will  burn  faster  at  the  last  :  so  the 
anger  of  G<id,  although  it  be  long  in  coming,  yet  it 
will  come  the  fiercer  at  the  last. 

— Cav'dray,  1 609. 


(2301).  Dost  thou  not  see  in  the  Scriptures  many 
examples  of  God's  severity  upon  the  abuse  of  His 
patience?  What  became  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah 
when  God  waited  in  the  days  of  Lot  ?  Are  they 
not  suffering  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire?  (Jude  7). 
What  became  of  the  Jews,  upon  whom  Christ  waited, 
calling  upon  them  and  crying  to  them  to  return  and 
reform?  Is  not  wrath  come  upon  them  to  the  ut- 
most? Are  not  these  like  the  mast  ot  a  ship  sunk 
in  the  sands,  standing  up  to  warn  thee  to  avoid  their 
course,  lest  thou  sink  eternally  ? 

— Swiniiock,  1673. 

XXII.    K!S  GOODNESS. 

1.  It  is  spontaneous. 

(2302.)  As  the  fountain  finds  its  expression  in 
overflowing,  as  a  river  in  rushing  to  the  infinite 
main,  as  trees  in  bursting  into  life  and  blossom  in 
the  spring-tide,  so  God  feels  it  His  joy  to  give 
liberally,  and  to  give  above  all  we  ask,  or  think,  or 
desire,  for  Christ's  sake.  — Cunuiiing. 

(2303.)  The  Divine  nature  is  so  constructed  that 
it  loves  to  do  good  ;  that  it  loves  to  recu[ierate 
men  ;  that  it  loves  to  restore  that  which  sin  has 
blurred  or  blasted.  God  loves  to  bless  men  out  of 
the  supremacy  of  a  love  which  carries  in  it  infinite 
benefaction  wherever  there  is  mental  blight,  through- 
out the  heaven  and  the  realms  of  the  universe.  The 
nature  of  God  is  fruitful  in  generosity.  He  is  so 
good  that  He  loves  to  do  good,  anrl  loves  to  make 
men  good,  and  loves  to  make  them  happy  by 
making  them  good.  He  loves  to  be  patient  with 
them,  and  to  wait  for  them,  and  to  pour  benevo- 
lence upon  them,  because  that  is  His  nature. 

Why  does  a  musician  sing?  To  please  himself. 
It  is  the  very  nature  of  his  organisation  to  sing. 
His  mind  loves  music.  Why  does  a  painter  love  to 
paint  ?  Because  painting  is  congenial  to  his  very 
organic  nature.  Why  does  the  orator  feel  the  joy 
of  speech  ?  Because  his  whole  nature  is  attuned 
and  attempered  to  that  operation.  Why  is  it,  when 
you  go  into  many  and  many  a  house,  that  you  see 
all  the  children  gathered  in  one  room?  Are  they 
gathered  around  about  the  young?  No.  Are  they 
gathered  together  with  those  that  are  full  of  frolic? 
No.  I'hey  are  gathered  around  the  aged.  It  is 
the  grandmother  who  sits  in  her  chair,  with  her 
nice  frilled  cap,  white  as  snow,  on  her  head,  and 
her  spectacles  lifted  upon  her  brow.  The  little 
children  play  about  her  chair.  They  can  hardly  be 
coaxed  away  from  her.  Why  ar*  they  all  drawn  to 
her?  Because  she  makes  them  happy.  Why  does 
she  make  them  happy?  Because  her  thoughts  are 
all  serene.  She  does  not  do  it  on  purpose.  It  is 
her  pleasure  to  do  it.  She  just  pours  out  of  her- 
self the  music  of  harmony,  and  it  fills  the  child  with 
joy.      It  is  her  nature  to  do  it. 

Why  does  Sir  Curmudgeon,  who  lives  in  his 
castle,  when  his  door  has  been  opened  by  the  hand 
of  want  coming  in  from  the  storm,  say,  "  Get  out — 
get  out — you  vagabond  !  I  do  not  want  to  hear. 
Never  come  here  again  "?  He  does  it  because  it  is 
bis  nature  to  do  it.     He  does  it  because  he  feeU 


COD. 


(     398    ) 


GOD. 


like  It.  \Vhen  another  man  sees  want,  why  do  his 
eyes  flow  down  with  tears?  Why  does  he  instantly 
feel,  "  I  adopt  this  want  ;  I  will  bear  this  burden?" 
Why  do  men  watch  all  day  and  all  night  at  the 
door  of  want,  and  give,  and  give,  and  continue  to 
give?  Why  are  they  happy  in  giving?  Is  it  be- 
cause of  any  agreement  or  bargain  that  they  have 
entered  into?  No,  they  are  acting  out  their  nature. 
Tliat  is  tlie  way  their  soul  runs. 

Why  does  God  love  ?  Because  it  is  His  nature 
to  love.  Why  is  lie  paiient?  Because  it  is  His 
nature.  Why  is  He  forgiving?  Because  that  is 
His  nature.  Why  does  He  promise  everything  to 
you  without  condition?  Because  He  is  just  so 
generous.  \\'hy  does  lie  love  you,  though  you  are 
unuortliy  of  love?  Because  that  is  just  the  way 
that  the  mind  of  God  acts.  And  that  this  might 
be  made  manifest,  He  made  the  most  magnilicent 
display  of  it  in  this  world  in  the  Son  of  Go<l,  who 
came  to  live,  to  love,  to  suffer,  and  to  die  for  men. 
But  that  was  only  a  faint  representation.  1  do  not 
hesitate  to  say  of  the  royalty  of  tliat  which  is  so 
vast  and  glorious  in  the  spheres  above,  that  it  can- 
not be  made  known  in  time  and  in  our  horizon 
here.  — Beecher. 

t.  His  tender  mercies  are  over  all  Els  works. 

(2304.)  Observe  three  things  in  God's  giving  : 

(i.)  He  is  not  weary  of  giving;  the  springs  of 
mercy  are  ever  running.  God  did  not  only  dispense 
blessings  in  former  ages,  but  I  le  still  gives  gifts  to  us  ; 
as  tlie  sun  not  only  enriches  the  world  with  its 
morning  light,  but  keeps  li.^ht  for  the  meridian. 
The  honeycomb  of  God's  bounty  is  still  dropping. 

(2.)  God  delights  in  giving.  "  He  delighteth  in 
mercy."  As  the  mother  delights  to  give  the  ciiild 
the  breast,  God  loves  we  should  have  the  breast  of 
mercy  in  our  mouth. 

(3.)  God  gives  to  His  very  enemies.  Who  will 
send  in  provisions  to  his  enemy  ?  Men  use  to  spread 
nets  for  their  enemies,  (iod  spreads  a  table.  The 
dew  drops  on  the  thistle  as  well  as  the  rose  ;  the 
dew  of  Gf<d's  bounty  drops  upon  the  worst. 

—  IVatson,  1696. 

(7305  )  As  the  sun  gives  life  and  joy  to  all  the 
wccld,  arid  if  there  were  millions  of  more  kinds  of 
belnfjs and  of  individuals  in  it.  His  light  and  heat  are 
sufficient  for  them  all  ;  so  the  divine  goodness  can 
supply  us  with  all  good  things,  and  ten  thousand 
worlds  more.  — Baies,  1625-1699. 

(2306.)  Paternity  and  democracy,  I  think,  are  the 
same  things.  The  father  looks  upion  his  children, 
and  they  are  all  his  children.  One  may  be  a  little 
older  than  another,  one  may  be  a  little  stronger 
than  another,  one  may  be  a  little  handsomer  than 
another  ;  but  paternity  implies  that  every  one  ac- 
cording to  its  nature  and  capacity  receives  attention. 
If  one  child  has  more  intellect  than  another,  the 
parent  gives  more  intellectual  stimulus  to  that  child  ; 
if  another  has  more  tendency  in  the  direction  of  in- 
ventive power,  the  parent  gives  more  cultivation  to 
that  tendency  ;  if  another  is  artistically  organised, 
the  parent  educates  it  accordingly.  Each  one  is 
treated  with  reference  to  its  own  want.  And  yet, 
comprehensively,  the  father  looks  upon  all  his  chil- 
dren alike  as  his  own  dear  children.  I  do  not  call 
this  the  democracy  of  love  :  it  is  necessity. 

Now,  look  at  the  sun — the  only  thing  of  such 
power  that  makes  no  discriminations  and  dUtiDc- 


tions.  I  have  growing  in  my  garden  the  portulacCM 
in  beds,  for  tlie  sake  of  its  glowing  colour.  You 
know  that  it  '«  first  cousin  to  purslane — a  weed  that 
everybody  who  undertakes  to  keep  a  garden  hates.  I 
have  hoed  it,  and  pulled  it  up,  and  denounced  it,  and 
spurned  it,  and  given  it  to  the  fire  and  to  the  pigs 
with  maledictions.  But  I  cannot  find  out  that  the 
sun  exercises  any  discrimination  between  the  pur- 
slane growing  in  my  garden  and  the  portulacca.  I 
call  one  flower  and  the  other  weed  ;  but  Goi's  sun 
calls  them  both  flowers.  There  is  the  Jamestown 
weed,  beautiful  in  blossom  and  odious  in  odour. 
But  I  cannot  see  that  Goil's  sun  makes  any  distinc- 
tion between  this  and  the  choicest  plants.  I  cannot 
see  that  the  sun  is  botanical  at  all.  1  cannot  leach 
it  anything.  If  I  say  to  the  sun,  "This  is  not  the 
old-fashioned  single  zinnia,  with  a  great  coarse 
globe  :  this  is  my  double  zinnia,"  the  sun  says, 
"  Single  zinnia,  and  double  zinnia,  take  as  much  as 
you  want."  On  my  place  I  have  fox-grapes,  that, 
running  over  the  wall,  and  falling  down  in  every 
direction,  are  among  the  most  beautiful  things  that 
grow  ;  and  1  have  a  little  vineyard  of  Delaware 
grapes  with  which  I  have  taken  great  pains — pinch- 
ing, pruning,  and  cultivating  them.  I  want  the  sun 
to  take  notice  of  my  cultivated  grapes,  but  1  cannot 
get  him  to  pay  any  more  attention  to  them  than  he 
does  to  those  fox-grapes.  Somethings  biing  more 
money  in  the  market  than  others  ;  but  1  c.nnnot  see 
but  that  the  sun  treats  them  all  just  alike.  My 
mullen-stalks  are  as  well  taken  care  of  as  my  wheat. 
The  sun  that  pours  its  rays  through  the  trees,  and 
batJies  and  nourishes  the  mighty  oak,  takes  just  ?s 
much  pains  with  witch-gra>s,  or  with  the  detestable 
Canada  thistles — which,  old  sinners  as  they  are, 
stand  up  among  the  grass  as  thick  as  you  sinners 
stand  up  among  the  righteous— as  with  these.  And 
I  take  notice  that,  all  through  the  workl,  the  sun 
does  not  bestow  its  regards  exclusively  upon  houses 
that  are  built  three  stories  or  five  stories  high.  The 
Esquimaux  hut  is  shined  on  as  much  as  the  king's 
palace.  The  sun  makes  no  distinction  between  a 
dwelling  ornamented  with  carved  work  and  covered 
with  costly  material  and  a  dwelling  made  of  rt)ugh 
slabs  and  covered  with  straw.  It  does  not  look  upon 
highness  any  more  than  upon  lowness  ;  upon  breadth 
any  more  than  upon  narrowness ;  upon  culture 
any  more  than  upon  the  unrefined  conditions  of 
nature.  It  goes  diffusing  itself  through  the  air  ;  and 
everything,  whether  it  be  eagle  or  vulture,  whether 
it  be  gorgeous  butterfly  or  buzzing  beetle,  whether 
it  be  that  which  is  escaping  from  peril  to  life  or  that 
which  is  seeking  life,  is  shined  upon.  The  sun  bears 
itself  without  partiality  in  infinite  abundance  and 
continuity.  It  is  a  life-giving  stimulus  to  all  things. 
And  it  is  the  emblem  of  (iod,  of  whom  it  is  said, 
"  He  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the 
good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  un- 
just." — Beeclur. 

3.  The  multitude  of  His  mercies. 

(2307.)  In  the  dew  drops  that  top  every  spike  o 
grass,  sow  the  sward  with  orient  pearl,  and  hang 
like  pendent  diamonds,  s[)arkling  in  the  sun  from 
all  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  you  see  the  multitude  of 
His  mercies.  He  crowns  the  year  with  His  bounty. 
We  have  seen  other  streams  dried  up  by  the  heat  of 
summer,  and  frozen  by  the  cold  of  winter — that  of 
His  mercies  never.  It  has  flowed  on  ;  day  by  day, 
night  by  night,  ever  flowing  ;  and  largely  fed  of 
heavenly   showers,   sometimes   overflowing    all   its 


GOD. 


(    399    ) 


GOD. 


banTcs.  To  this,  and  that  other  one  has  the  past 
brought  afflictions?  Still,  may  I  not  ask,  how  few 
our  miseries  to  the  nunil)er  of  our  mercies  ;  how  far 
have  our  blessings  exceeded  our  afflictions ;  our 
nights  of  sleep,  tho^e  of  wakefulness  ;  our  hours  of 
health,  those  of  sickness;  our  many  gains,  the  few 
losses  we  have  suffered  ?  For  every  blow,  how 
many  blessings  !  and  even  when  He  smote  with  one 
hand,  did  not  a  gracious  God  hold  up  with  the 
other?  Who  has  not  to  sing  of  mercy  as  well  as 
judgment  ;  ay,  much  more  of  mercies  than  of  judg- 
ments ?  Let  us  not  write  the  memory  of  these  on 
water,  and  of  those  on  the  rock.  — Guthrie. 

{2308.)  Did  you  ever  stand  in  a  bright  summer 
day  by  the  black  swirling  pool  at  the  foot  of  a 
waterfall,  and  look  up  to  the  top  of  the  cascade, 
where,  scattering  its  liquid  beads  like  sparkling 
diamonds,  it  sprang  boUlly  out  from  the  rock  into 
the  air?  How  ceaseless  the  flow  !  and  with  its 
snowy  foam  ever  flashing  in  the  light  of  day,  and 
its  deep  solemn  voice,  in  that  lone  glen,  ever  prais- 
ing God  through  the  hours  of  night — what  an  image 
does  it  offer  (jf  the  stream  of  mercies  that  are  con- 
tinually falling  on  us  from  the  bountiful  hand  of 
God  ! 

The  Scriptures  employ  other,  and  indeed  many 
images  of  God's  affluent  bounty.  God  Himself 
says,  "  I  will  be  as  the  dew  unto  Israel  " — but  there 
are  cloudy  skies  and  breezy  nights  when  no  dew 
falls,  emblem  of  divine  bounty,  to  hang  gems  on 
every  bush,  and  snow  the  fields  with  "orient 
pearls."  Again  it  is  said:  "  He  shall  come  down 
like  rain  upon  the  mown  grass,  and  showers  that 
water  the  earth,"  but  there  are  days  and  weeks 
without  a  drop  of  rain.  Again  it  is  said,  "  I  will 
pour  water  upon  him  that  is  thirsty,  and  floods  upon 
the  dry  ground'' — but  it  is  only  on  rare  occasions 
that  the  river,  swollen  by  many  a  tributary,  comes 
down  red  and  roaring,  and  overflowing  all  its  banks, 
turns  every  wooded  knoll  into  an  island,  and  green 
valleys  into  inland  seas.  But,  is  there  ever  a  month, 
a  week,  a  day,  an  hour,  a  moment,  a  single  moment, 
when  from  'l"hy  blessed  and  bountiful  hand,  O  God  ! 
mercies  are  not  falling  in  showers — thick  as  the 
rain-drops  that  shinmier  in  sunlight  on  the  water, 
or  as  the  snow-flakes  that  fill  the  wintry  air  ! 

— Guthrie. 

(2309.)  So  many  are  God's  kindnesses  to  us,  that, 
as  drops  of  water,  they  run  together;  and  it  is  not 
until  we  are  borne  up  by  the  multitude  of  them,  as 
by  streams  in  deep  channels,  that  we  recognise  them 
as  coming  from  Him.  We  have  walked  amid  His 
mercies  as  in  a  forest  where  we  are  tangled  among 
ten  thousand  growths,  and  touched  on  every  hand 
by  leaves  and  buds  which  we  notice  not.  We  can- 
not recall  all  the  things  He  has  done  for  us.  They 
are  so  many  that  they  must  needs  crowd  upon  each 
other,  until  they  go  down  behind  the  horizon  of 
memor)'  like  full  hemi-pheres  of  stars  that  move  in 
multitudes  and  sink,  not  separate  and  distinguish- 
able, but  muhitudinous,  each  casting  light  into  the 
other,  and  so  clouding  each  other  by  common  bright- 
ness. — Beecher, 

4.  Els  care  for  the  poor. 

(2310.)  God  presents  Himself  to  us  as  having  a 
peculiar  and  tender  care  of  the  poor.  It  is  not  the 
robust  but  delicate  child  of  the  family,  around  whom 


a  father's  and  mother's  affections  cluster  thickest, 
are  most  closely  twined.  The  boy  or  girl  whom 
feebleness  of  body  or  mind  makes  least  fit  to  beai 
the  World's  rough  usage,  and  most  dependent  on 
others'  kindness,  is  like  those  tendrils  that,  winding 
themselves  ri)und  the  tree  they  spangle  with  flowers, 
bind  it  most  closely  in  their  embraces,  and  iniry 
their  pliant  arms  deepest  in  its  bark.  And  what  a 
blessed  and  beautiful  arrangement  of  Providence  it 
is,  that  they  who  cost  most  care,  and  lie  with 
greatest  weight  on  parents'  arms  and  hearts,  are 
commonly  most  loved  ! 

Helplessness,  appealing  to  our  pity,  begets  affec- 
tion. Thus  was  the  heart  of  the  rough  sailor 
touched,  when,  tossiiig  with  other  castaways  in  an 
open  boat  on  the  open  sea,  he  parted  with  a  morsel 
of  food,  which,  hidden  with  more  care  than  misers 
hide  their  gold,  he  had  reserved  for  his  own  last 
extremity.  Around  him  lay  men  and  women  ;  some 
dead  with  glassy  eyes  ;  some  dying,  and  these 
reduced  to  ghastly  skeletons  ;  but  none  of  these 
moved  him  to  peril  his  own  life  for  theirs.  The 
object  of  his  noble  and  not  unrewarded  generosity 
— for,  as  if  Heaven  had  sent  it  on  purpose  to  re- 
ward the  act,  a  sail  speedily  hove  in  sight — was  a 
gentle  boy  that,  with  his  face  turned  on  hers,  lay 
dying  in  a  mother's  arms,  and  between  whose  teeth 
the  famished  man  put  his  own  last  precious  morsel. 

Of  this  feeling  I  met  also  a  remarkable  illustration 
in  my  old  country  parish.  In  one  of  its  cottages 
dwelt  a  poor  idiot  child  ;  horrible  to  all  eyes  but  her 
parents' ;  and  so  helpless,  that,  though  older  than 
sisters  just  blooming  into  womanhood,  she  lay,  un- 
able either  to  walk  or  speak,  a  burden  on  her 
mother's  lap,  almost  the  whole  day  long, — a  heavy 
handful  to  one  who  had  the  cares  of  a  family,  and 
was  the  wife  of  a  hard  working  man,  —  and  a  most 
painful  contrast  to  the  very  roses  that  flung  their 
bright  clusters  over  the  cottage  window  as  well  as 
to  the  lark  that,  pleased  with  a  grassy  turf,  carolled 
within  its  cage.  Death,  in  most  instances  unwel- 
come visitor,  came  at  length, — to  her  and  to  their 
relief.  Relief!  so  I  thought  ;  and,  when  the  father 
came  with  an  invitation  to  the  funeral,  so  I  said. 
Though  not  roughly,  but  inadvertently  spoken,  the 
word  jarred  on  a  tender  chord  ;  and  I  was  more 
than  ever  taught  how  helplessness  begets  affection 
in  the  very  measure  and  proportion  of  itself,  when 
he  burst  into  a  fit  of  sorrow,  and,  speaking  of  his 
beautifid  boys  and  blooming  girls,  said.  If  it  had 
been  God's  will,  I  would  have  parted  with  any  of 
them  rather  than  her. 

Now  this  kindness  to  the  helpless,  of  which  man's 
home,  both  in  the  humblest  and  highest  walks  of 
life,  presents  so  many  lovely  instances,  and  which, 
you  will  ob.serve,  moves  the  roughest  crowd  on  the 
street,  without  taking  time  to  inquire  into  its  merits, 
to  throw  themselves  into  the  quarrel  of  a  woman  or 
weeping  child,  is  a  flower  of  Eden,  that  clings  to 
the  ruins  of  our  nature, — one  beautiful  feature  of 
God's  imaL;e  which  has  to  some  extent  survived  the 
fall.  "  The  Lord  is  very  pitifid  and  of  tender 
mercy."  Well  named,  "  Our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven  ;"  He  sets  Himself  forth  in  His  Word  as 
the  Patron  and  Protector  of  the  poor;  He  recom- 
mends them  in  many  ways  and  by  many  considera- 
tions to  our  kindness  ;  and  teaches  us  that,  if  we 
would  be  like  Himself,  we  must  remember  theit 
miseries  amid  our  enjoyments,  and  fill  their  empty 
cups  with  th£  overflowings  of  our  own. 

— GuthrU. 


GOD. 


(    400    "> 


GOD. 


(2311.)  God  is  in  sympathy  with  you.  Don't  you 
think  He  knows  how  heavy  the  hod  of  bricks  is  that 
the  workman  carries  up  the  ladder  on  the  wall  ? 
Don't  you  think  He  hears  the  ring  of  the  pickaxe  of 
the  miner  down  in  the  gold  shaft  ?  Don't  you  think 
He  knows  how  hard  the  tempest  strikes  the  sailor 
at  masthead  ?  Don't  you  think  He  sees  the  factory 
girl  amid  flying  spindles,  and  knows  how  her  arms 
ache?  Don't  you  think  He  sees  the  sewing-woman 
in  the  fourth  story,  and  knows  how  few  pence  she 
gets  f^r  making  one  garment?  Ay,  ay;  I  tell 
yoL  that  louder  than  the  roar  of  the  wheels  and  the 
din  of  the  great  cities,  the  sigh  of  the  over-tasked 
working-man  rises  into  the  ear  of  God.  Oh  !  ye  who 
are  weary  of  hand,  weary  of  head,  weary  of  foot, 
and  weary  of  heart,  "Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord, 
and  He  will  sustain  thee."  — Talinage. 

5,  His  condescension  to  the  lowly. 

(2312.)  There  is  no  subject  of  contemplation, 
indeed,  more  marvellous  than  the  unceasing  atten- 
tion and  care  lavished  by  Deity  on  small  as  well  as 
on  great ;  that  the  vnst  provinces  of  His  giant  empire 
do  not  withdraw  His  thoughts  and  care  from  the 
feeble  and  insignificant ;  that  He  who  wheels  the 
planets  in  their  courses,  and  lights  up  the  blazing 
suns  of  the  firmament,  can  watch  also  the  sparrows 
fall,  and  feed  the  young  ravens  when  they  cry  !  Just 
as  the  mountain  supports  the  tiny  blade  of  grass  and 
the  modest  floweret  as  well  as  the  giant  pine  or 
cedar ;  just  as  that  ocean  bears  up  in  safety  the  sea- 
bird  seated  on  its  crested  waves  as  well  as  the  levia- 
than vessel  :  so  while  the  Great  Keeper  of  Israel 
can  listen  to  the  archangel's  song  and  the  seraph's 
burning  devotions.  He  can  carry  in  His  bosom  the 
feeblest  lamb  of  the  fold,  and  lead  gently  the  most 
sorrowing  spirit.  The  Psalmist  delights  to  celebrate 
these  two  thoughts  in  conjunction  : — God  in  the 
vastness  of  His  omnipotence,  and  God  in  the  con- 
descending tenderness  of  lowly  love  to  the  feeble 
and  fallen.  "  Tliy  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  king- 
dom, Thy  dominion  endureth  throughout  all  genera- 
tions " — "The  Lord  upholdeth  all  that  fall,  and 
raiseth  up  all  those  that  be  bowed  down:"  He 
telleth  the  number  of  the  stars  :  He  calleth  them  all 
by  their  names" — "  He  healeth  the  broken  in  heart, 
and  bindeth  up  their  wounds."  — Alacdnff. 

6.  His  pity  for  them  that  fear  Him. 

(2313.)  The  least  degree  of  sincere  sanctification, 
being  an  effect  of  regeneration,  is  a  certain  sign  of 
adoption,  and  may  minister  a  sure  argument  to  him 
that  has  it,  that  he  is  the  adopted  ciiild  of  God. 
Now,  as  parents  love  their  children,  not  so  much  for 
their  wit  or  comeliness,  or  the  like  qualities,  as  be- 
cause they  are  theirs,  so  does  God  love  1  lis  children  : 
yea,  had  He  not  loved  them  before  (hey  had  any 
good  quality  in  them,  for  which  He  might  afiect 
them,  they  had  never  come  to  have  any  such.  Parents 
delight  as  much  in  their  young  ones  as  in  those  that  be 
at  man's  estate,  as  well  in  those  that  are  not  able  to 
earn  the  bread  that  they  eat,  as  in  those  that  are 
able  to  do  them  the  best  service.  Nor  is  any  father 
so  unnatural,  that  because  his  child,  being  weak  and 
sickly,  is  therefore  somewhat  wayward,  especially 
being  a  good-natured  and  otherwise  dutiful  child, 
will  for  that  cause  the  less  either  regard  or  affect  it. 
No,  we  are  wont  rather  to  be  the  more  affectionate 
towards  them  when  it  is  so  with  them.  Yea,  I  say 
not  what  infirmity,  but  what  disease,  almost,  is  there 
•o  loathsome  as  will  keep  a  mother  from  tendering 


and  tending  her  child  ?  In  like  manner  it  is  with 
our  heavenly  Father  whose  love  goes  infinitely  be- 
yond the  love  of  any  earthly  father  or  mother  what- 
soever. For  as  a  father,  says  the  Psalmist,  is  piti- 
ful unto  his  children,  so  the  Lord  is  pitiful  to  those 
that  fear  Him.  And  the  most  natural  mother,  the 
kindest  and  dearest  parent  that  is,  may  sooner  for- 
get or  not  rsgard  the  fruit  of  their  own  body,  than 
He  can  forget  or  not  regard  them.  "And  I  will 
spare  them,"  says  He,  "that  fear  Me,  and  think  on 
My  name,  as  a  man  spares  his  own  son  that  serves 
him."  He  loves  and  delights  in  His  litile  weak 
ones,  His  young  babes  in  Christ,  that  can  scarce 
almost  creep,  much  less  go  well  alone  yet,  as  well 
as  in  His  well-grown  ones,  that  are  able  10  help  and 
to  tend  others.  For  the  Lord's  delight  is  in  aU 
those  that  fear  Him,  and  that  rely  upon  His  mercy. 
He  is  content  to  accept  at  their  hands  what  they 
are  able.  As  a  little  done  by  a  son  gives  his  father 
much  better  contentment  than  a  great  deal  more 
done  by  a  mere  stranger  or  servant.  And  there  is  a 
difference  between  a  son  and  a  servant ;  that  a  ser- 
vant, if  he  cannot  do  his  master's  work,  his  master 
will  not  keep  him,  he  must  go,  seek  him  some  other 
service;  whereas  a  son,  albeit  he  be  not  able  to  do 
ought,  yet  he  is  not  therefore  cast  off;  his  father 
keeps  him  not  for  the  service  he  does  or  can  do  him, 
but  he  keeps  him  because  he  is  his  son.  Yea,  it  is 
not  the  wants,  and  infirmities,  and  imperfections,  or 
the  remainders  of  sin  and  corruption  in  God's  chil- 
dren, that  can  cause  God  to  cast  them  off  or  to  ab- 
hor them.  "Our  corruptions  shall  not  hurt  us,  if 
they  do  not  please  us,"  says  Augustine.  Nor  is  it 
so  much  our  corruptions  as  our  pleasing  of  ourselves 
in  them,  that  makes  God  to  be  displeased  with  us. 
Any  beginning  of  sincere  sanctifying  grace,  then, 
argues  God's  child  ;  and  a  weak  child  of  God  being 
yet  a  child  of  God,  as  well  as  a  strong,  has  good 
cause  and  great  cause  therein  to  rejoice. 

—  Gataker,  1574-1654. 

(2314.)  "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so 
the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  Him."  "'Like  as 
a  father" — but  how  is  that  ?  \'ou  see  yondei  dusky 
tents  along  the  stream,  and  knots  of  cattle  grazing 
on  the  neighbouring  hills  ;  but  the  chieftain  stays  at 
home.  In  the  cradle  lies  the  babe  whom  a  foster- 
mother  is  bringing  up,  for  his  own  mother  died  on 
the  day  when  he  was  born  ;  and  hand  in  hand  with 
his  widowed  sire  walks  a  little  boy  full  of  love,  full 
of  notions  bright  and  strange,  asking  hard  questions, 
telling  dreams  ;  till  a  sudden  change  comes  across 
the  scene,  and  in  the  effort  to  be  a  playmate  to 
Rachel's  little  son,  for  a  moment  the  patriarch  for- 
gets his  cares  and  griefs  and,  as  men  would  say,  his 
dignity. 

How  is  it  that  a  father  pitieth  his  children?  An 
old  king  is  seated  at  the  city  gate.  Not  far  away  a 
battle  is  going  forward — a  battle  on  which  hangs 
the  monarch's  crown,  perhaps  his  very  life.  And 
there  is  panic  through  the  town,  the  helpless  running 
to  and  fro,  and  the  fearful  looking  forth  of  those 
who  think  tiiey  already  see  their  houses  in  the 
flames  and  red  slaughter  rushing  through  the  streets. 
But  now  posting  towards  the  city  are  seen  the  little 
clouds,  the  dust  of  separate  couriers,  and  all  rush  to 
hear  the  tidings.  "All's  well!"  exclaims  the 
first;  "Victory!"  shouts  the  second;  but  with 
fierce  impatience,  demands  the  monarch,  "  Is  the 
young  man  Absalom  safe?"  and,  transfixed  by  ihe 
fatal  truth  in  his  cry  of  anguish,  the  cheers  of  exultt- 


GOD. 


(    401     ) 


GOD. 


ticn  suddenly  subside,  and  as  he  staggers  up  to  his 
solitary  chamber,  the  joyous  crowd  fall  silent,  and 
even  the  conquerors  when  they  at  last  return,  like 
the  perpetrators  of  a  crime,  slink  through  the  gate 
crestfallen. 

How  is  it  that  a  father  pitieth  his  children?  For 
long  there  has  been  only  one  son  at  home,  and  you 
might  suppose  there  never  had  been  more  than  one ; 
ail  is  so  complete  and  orderly,  and  the  new-come 
servants  and  the  neighbours  never  speak  of  any 
other.  But  along  the  highroad  there  is  this  instant 
travelling  a  gaunt  and  haggard  figure,  his  filthy 
tattered  clothing  showing  little  trace  of  bygone 
foppery,  and  in  his  looks  not  much  to  betoken 
gentle  breeding ;  so  shabby  and  so  reprobate  that 
those  who  pity  common  beggars  shake  the  head  or 
slam  the  door  on  this  one.  But  though  the  dogs  bark 
at  him  and  charity  turns  away  from  him  ;  though  the 
meanest  hut  rejects  him,  and  though  the  passengers 
scowl  at  his  petitions,  one  heart  awaits  him,  and  keeps 
for  him  the  original  compartment,  warm,  ample, 
and  unfilled.  Yonder,  as  he  has  surmounted  the 
summit  of  the  hill  and  is  gazing  down  on  the  long 
forsaken  homestead  and  hesitating  whether  he  may 
venture  nearer,  which  quick  eye  is  that  which  has 
recognised  him  a  great  way  off,  and  what  eager  step 
is  this  which  runs  so  fast  to  meet  him  ?  and  who  is 
this  that  in  the  folds  of  his  kingly  mantle  hides  the 
ragged  wanderer,  and  clasps  him  to  his  bosom,  and 
weeps  upon  his  neck  the  tears  of  enraptured  affec- 
tion, and  cuts  short  his  confession  with  a  call  for 
the  best  robe  and  a  command  for  instant  festival  ? 
Oh,  what  a  love  is  this  which  the  heavenly  Father 
hath  unto  His  children  !  — Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

(23T5.)  Dr.  Kane,  finding  a  flower  under  the 
Humboldt  glacier,  was  more  affected  by  it  because 
it  grew  beneath  the  lip  and  cold  bosom  of  the  ice 
than  he  would  have  been  by  the  most  gorgeous 
garden  bloom.  So  some  single  struggling  grace,  in 
the  heart  of  one  far  removed  from  Divine  inlluences, 
may  be  dearer  to  God  than  a  whole  catalogue  of 
virtues  in  the  life  of  one  more  favoured  of  heaven. 

— Beecher. 

t.  Is  not  Inconsistent  with  severity, 

(2316.)  The  goodness  for  which  Mr.  Kentish 
pleads  is  mere  undistinguishing  beneficence  of  which 
we  can  form  no  idea  without  feeling  at  the  same 
time  a  diminution  of  respect.  If  a  supreme  magi- 
strate should  possess  such  an  attachment  to  his  sub- 
jects as  that,  whatever  were  their  crimes,  he  could 
in  no  case  be  induced  to  give  any  one  of  them  up 
to  condign  punishment  or  to  any  otlier  punishment 
than  what  should  be  adapted  to  promote  his  good, 
he  would  presently  become  an  object  of  general 
contempt.  Or  if  a  father  should  possess  such  a 
fondness  for  his  children  that,  let  any  one  of  them 
be  guilty  of  what  he  might,  suppose  it  were  a  mur- 
der, a  hundred  times  repeated,  yet  he  could  never 
consent  that  any  punishment  should  be  inflicted 
upon  him,  excepting  such  as  might  be  productive 
of  his  good,  such  a  father  would  be  detested  by  the 
community,  and  despised  by  his  own  family. 

— Andrew  Fuller,  1754-18 1 5. 

{2317.)  Goodness  and  severity  are  elements  of  a 
perlect  character  even  among  men.  Without  good- 
ness, the  character  is  stern  and  inflexible  ;  it  repels 
instead  of  winning.  There  may  be  certain  qualities 
wUch  co-nmand  our  respect  in  a  Draco,  who  or- 


dains death  as  the  penalty  for  every  trifling  violation 
of  the  law,  or  in  a  Brutus,  who,  with  tearless  eye, 
gives  orders  in  the  way  of  duty  for  the  execution  of 
his  sons  ;  but  from  characters  of  such  untempered 
austerity,  sympathy  and  affection  recoil.  On  the 
other  hand,  without  severity  goodness  degenerates 
into  weakness ;  into  that  moral  pliancy  which, 
under  the  name  of  good-nature,  has  often  made 
men  "consent"  easily  to  the  enticement  of  sinners, 
and  has  given  them  nothing  in  return  but  the  insipid 
reputation  of  having  been  enemies  to  none  but  them- 
selves. In  a  perfect  characier,  if  such  existed 
among  men,  you  would  see  the  counterbalancing 
powers  of  goodness  and  severity  held  in  exact 
equilibrium.  And  such,  the  Word  of  God  assures 
us,  is  the  character  of  Ilim  with  whom  we  have  to 
do — "  Behold,  therefore,  the  goodness  and  severity 
of  God." 

A  very  beautiful  ilhistration  of  this  twofold 
element  of  the  Divine  character  may  be  drawn 
from  n.iture.  "God  is  light,''  says  the  Scripture. 
Philosophers  have  discovered  that  light,  though 
apparently  so  simple  a  substance,  is  compounded 
of  seven  different  rays.  It  may  be  said  to  have  two 
main  ingredients  :  the  sombre  rays  (blue,  indigo, 
violet)  ;  the  bright  rays  (orange,  red,  yellow,  green). 
Both  classes  of  rays  are  essential  to  the  delicacy 
and  purity  of  the  substance.  Without  the  sombre 
rays,  light  would  be  a  glare, — the  eyeball  would 
ache  beneath  it ;  without  the  bright  rays,  light 
would  approximate  to  the  nature  of  darkness,  and 
lose  the  gay  smile  which  lights  up  the  face  of 
nature,  and  twinkles  on  the  sea.  Similarly,  the 
holiness,  justice,  and  truth  of  God  (attributes  which 
wear  an  awful  aspect  to  the  sinner),  are  an  element 
of  His  nature,  as  essential  to  its  perfectness  as 
mercy,  love,  and  goodness.  Suppose  in  Him,  for 
a  moment,  no  stern  defiance  against  moral  evil,  but 
an  allowance  and  admission  of  it,  and  you  degrade 
Jehovah  to  the  level  of  a  pagan  deity,  honoured 
with  impure  rites,  and  forming  His  worshippers  on 
the  model  of  His  own  licentiousness.  Suppose  ia 
Him,  on  the  other  hand,  an  absence  of  love,  and 
you  supplant  tlie  very  being  of  God,  you  overcloud 
the  light,  and  convert  it  into  its  antagonist  dark- 
ness ;  lor  "God  is  love."  But  combine  boih  riglit- 
eousness  and  love,  intensified  to  the  iiigliest  con- 
ceivaljle  degree,  and  you  are  then  possessed  of  the 
Scriptural  idea  of  the  Most  High.  "  Behold,  there- 
fore, the  goodness  and  severity  of  God." 

— Goulburu. 
XXIII.    HIS  LOVE, 

1.  It  preceded  ours. 

(2318.)  Some  years  ago  two  gentlemen  were 
riding  together,  and,  as  they  were  about  to  separate, 
one  addressed  the  other  thus:  "Do  you  ever  read 
your  Bible?"  "Yes,  but  I  get  no  benefit  from  it, 
because,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  feel  I  do  not  love  God." 
"Neither  did  I,"  replied  the  other,  "but  God 
loved  me."  This  answer  produced  such  an  effect 
upon  his  friend,  that,  to  use  his  own  words,  it  was 
as  if  one  had  lifted  him  off  the  saddle  into  the  skies. 
It  ojiened  up  to  his  soul  at  once  the  great  truih, 
that  it  is  not  how  much  I  love  God,  but  how  much 
God  loves  me. 

2.  It  was  manifested  in  the  gift  of  Christ. 
{2319.)  No  man  has  ever  manifested  such  love  as 

this.     In  a  few  instances  one  man  has  been  willing 
[  to  sacrifice  his  life  for  a  friend  ;  and  not  a  few 

2  C 


GOD. 


(    402    ) 


GOD. 


fathers  and  mothers  liave  been  willing  to  endanger 
their  lives  for  the  welfare  of  a  son  or  daughter.  But 
the  instance  has  never  yet  occurred  where  a  man 
was  willing  to  give  his  own  life,  or  the  life  of  a 
child,  for  an  enemy.  No  monarch  on  the  throne 
has  ever  thought  of  giving  the  heir  to  his  crown  to 
die  for  a  traitor,  or  a  rebellious  province ;  and 
amidst  the  multitudes  of  treason  which  have  occurred, 
it  has  never,  probably,  for  one  instant,  crossed  the 
bosom  of  the  offended  sovereign  to  suppose  that 
such  a  thing  was  possible  ;  and  if  it  had  occurred  it 
would  have  been  at  once  dismissed  as  not  worth 
more  than  a  passing  thought.  No  magistrate  has 
ever  lived  who  would  have  been  willing  to  sentence 
his  own  son  to  the  gallows  in  place  of  the  guilty 
wretch  whom  it  was  his  duty  to  sentence  to  death. 
Not  an  instance  has  ever  occurred  in  our  own 
country — rich  as  it  is  in  examples  of  benignity  and 
kindness — in  which  a  judge  on  the  bench  would 
have  been  willing  to  commute  a  punishment  in  this 
manner,  if  it  had  been  in  strict  accordance  with 
equity  and  law  ;  and  probably  the  records  of  all 
nations  might  be  searched  in  vain  for  such  an  in- 
stance. We  know  tliat  monarchs  often  feel,  and 
that  magistrates  are  not  destitute  of  a  tender  heart, 
and  that  the  man  on  the  bench  who  passes  the 
severe  sentence  of  the  law  often  does  it  in  tears. 
The  present  King  of  France  passes  every  night  to  a 
late  hour  in  carefully  examining  the  cases  of  those 
who  are  condemned  to  death,  and  in  the  silence  of 
the  night-watches  ponders  all  the  reasons  why  a 
pardon  should  be  extended  in  any  case,  and  often 
with  a  heavy  heart  signs  the  warrant  for  death  ; 
and  Washington  wept  when  his  duty  constrained 
him  to  approve  the  sentence  wl;ich  doomed  the 
accomplished  Andre  to  the  gallows  ;  but  would 
these  feelings  in  either  instance,  or  in  any  instance, 
prompt  to  the  surrender  of  a  son — an  only  son — to 
the  disgrace  of  the  gibbet  to  save  the  spy  or  the 
traitor?  We  are  saying  nothing  in  disparagement 
of  such  men — for  they  are  but  men,  and  not  God — 
when  we  say  that  their  feelings  of  compassion  have 
made  no  approach  to  such  a  sacrifice.  Their  deep 
emotions,  their  tears,  their  genuine  sorrow,  their 
unaffected  and  noble  benevolence  —  though  an 
honour  to  our  nature — have  not  approached  the 
question  whether  such  a  sacrifice  was  jjossible  or 
proper  ;  and,  we  may  add,  it  is  not  to  beai)proached 
in  this  world.  The  nearest  approach  of  which  I 
have  ever  heard  to  anything  like  this  feeling,  was  in 
the  pathetic  wish  of  David  that  he  had  himself  been 
permitted  to  die  in  the  place  of  a  rebellious  and 
ungrateful  son.  "  O,  my  son  Absalom  !  my  son, 
my  son  Absalom,  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee. 
O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  !"  (2  Kings  xviii.  33.) 
Strong  was  that  love  which  would  lead  a  monarch 
and  a  father  to  be  willing  to  die  for  such  a  son  ; 
but  how  far  removed  still  from  the  love  which  would 
lead  to  the  sacrifice  of  a  son  for  the  guilty  and  the 
vile  I  — Barnes,  1798-1870. 

(2320.)  We  have  no  higher  conception  of  the  love 
of  a  father  than  that  he  should  give  up  his  son  to 
die.  It  is  the  last  offering  which  he  could  make, 
and  beyond  this  there  is  nothing  that  we  can  expect. 
When  a  man  bids  his  only  son  to  go  into  the  tented 
fielci,  and  expose  his  life  for  his  country,  and  with 
ever)'  prospect  that  he  will  die  for  its  welfare,  it  is 
the  highest  expression  of  attachment  for  that  country. 
Man  has  no  possessions  so  valuable  that  he  would 
not  £rive  then,  all  to  save  the  life  of  his  son ;  and 


when  he  yields  up  his  son  in  any  cause,  he  has 
shown  for  it  the  highest  love.  It  is  impossible  to 
conceive  of  a  higher  expression  of  love,  if  it  could 
be  done,  than  for  a  man  on  the  bench,  whose  office 
required  of  him  to  condemn  the  guilty  to  death,  to 
be  willing  to  substitute  his  own  son  on  the  gallows, 
and  bid  the  murderer  go  free. 

— Bai-nes,  1708-1870. 

(2321.)  Suppose  a  man  is  lyinjr  under  sentence  of 
death  !  Sluinking  from  the  gallows-tree,  he  has 
sent  off  a  petition  for  mercy ;  and  waits  the  answer 
in  anxious  suspense.  One  day  iiis  ear  catches  ra[)id 
steps  approaching  his  door — they  stop  there.  The 
chain  is  drop])ed  ;  the  bolts  are  drawn  ;  a  messenger 
enters  with  his  fate — on  these  lips,  death  or  life. 
And  the  answer?  Ah,  the  answer  is  that  the  sove- 
reign pities  the  criminal,  but  cannot  pardon  the 
crime.  The  blood  deserts  his  cheeks  ;  his  hopes 
dashed  to  the  ground,  he  wrings  his  hands,  and 
gives  himself  up  for  lost.  And  now  the  messenger 
draws  near  ;  and,  laying  his  hand  kindly  on  the 
poor  felon's  shoulder,  tells  him  that  there  is  one 
way  by  which  he  may  yet  be  saved — if  the  king's 
son  would  change  places  with  him,  put  these  fetters 
of  his  on  his  own  limbs  and  die  in  his  room,  that 
would  satisfy  justice,  and  set  him  free.  Drowning 
men  will  catch  at  straws ;  not  he  at  that.  The 
king  give  up  his  son  !  the  king's  son,  the  prince 
royal,  the  heir  of  the  kingdom  consent  to  die  for  a 
poor,  obscure,  guilty  wretch  like  me,  if  there  is  no 
hope  but  that,  there  is  no  hope  at  all  I  Now  fancy, 
if  you  can,  his  astonishment,  sinking  to  incredulity 
and  then  rising  into  a  paroxysm  of  joy,  when  the 
messenger  says,  "  I  am  the  king's  son  ;  it  is  my  own 
wish,  and  my  father's  will,  that  I  should  die  for 
you  ;  for  that  purpose  am  I  come,  have  I  left  the 
palace,  and  sought  you  in  this  dreary  prison  ;  take 
you  the  pardon  and  give  me  tlie  fetters.  In  me 
shall  the  crime  be  punished  ;  in  you  shall  the  crimi- 
nal be  saved.  Escape  1  Behold,  1  set  before  you 
an  open  door  !  " 

Such  love  never  was  shown  by  man.  No.  But 
greater  love  has  been  shown  by  God.  He  gave  up 
His  Son  to  death  that  we  might  not  die  but  live. 

— Guthrie, 

3.  Its  tenderness. 

{zyzi.)  God  has  a  tnoiker's  favouritism.  A  father 
sometimes  shows  a  sort  of  favouritism.  Here  is  a 
boy  —  strong,  well,  of  high  forehead  and  quick 
intellect.  The  father  says,  "  1  will  take  that  boy 
into  my  firm  yet;"  or,  "I  will  give  him  the  very 
best  possible  education."  There  are  instances  where, 
for  the  culture  of  the  one  boy,  all  the  otliers  have 
been  robbed.  A  sad  favouritism  ;  but  that  is  not 
the  mother's  favourite.  I  will  tell  you  her  favourite. 
There  is  a  child  who,  at  two  years  of  age,  had  a 
fall.  He  has  never  got  over  it.  The  scarlet  fever 
muffled  his  hearing.  He  is  not  what  he  once  was. 
That  child  has  caused  the  mother  more  anxious 
nights  than  all  the  other  children.  If  he  coughs  in 
the  night,  she  s])rings  out  of  a  sound  sleep  and  goes 
to  him.  The  last  thing  she  does  when  going  out  a( 
the  house,  is  to  give  a  charge  in  regard  to  him. 
The  first  thing  on  coming  in  is  to  ask  in  regard  to 
him.  W'hy,  the  children  of  the  family  all  know 
that  he  is  the  favourite,  and  say  :  "Mother,  you  let 
him  do  just  as  he  pleases,  and  you  give  him  a  great 
many  things  which  you  do  not  gi^e  us.  He  is  your 
favourite.'  The  mother  smiles  ;  she  knows  it  is 
so.    So  he  ought  to  be ;  for  if  there  is  any  one  in  th« 


GOD. 


(    403    ) 


COD. 


world  who  needs  sympathy  more  than  another,  it  is 
&n  invalid  child,  weary  on  the  first  mile  of  life's 
journey  ;  carrying  an  aching  head,  a  weal<  side,  an 
irritatetl  lung.  So  the  mother  ought  to  make  him 
a  favouriie.  God,  our  Mother,  has  favourites. 
"  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  lie  chasteneth."  That 
is,  one  whom  lie  especially  loves  He  chasteneth. 
Ciod  loves  us  all ;  but  is  there  one  weak,  and  sick, 
and  sore,  and  wounded,  and  suffering,  and  faint? 
That  is  the  one  who  lies  nearest  and  more  perpetu- 
ally on  the  great,  loving  heart  of  God. 

—  Tabnage, 
4  It  embraces  all  His  children. 

(2323.)  As  the  sun  shining  upon  one  place  of  the 
earth  enlightens  it  no  less  than  if  it  shined  on  no 
otlier,  so  in  the  very  same  manner  is  our  Lord 
solicitous  for  all  Ills  dear  children. 

— Francis  de  Sales. 

5.  It  Is  uncliang'eable. 

(2324.)  The  sincerity  of  God's  affection  to  His 
people  ap]iears  in  t!ie  unmovahleness  of  His  love. 
As  there  is  no  shadow  of  turning  in  the  being  of 
God,  so  not  in  the  love  of  God  to  Ills  peojile  ; 
there  is  no  vertical  point  ;  His  love  stands  still  like 
the  sun  in  Gibeah,  it  goes  not  down  nor  declines,  but 
continues  in  its  full  strength.  "  With  everlasting 
kindness  7Vill  1  have  mercy  on  thee,  saith  the  Lord, 
thy  Kedeeriier."  Sorry  man  repents  of  his  love;  the 
hottest  affection  cools  in  his  bosom  ;  love  in  the 
creature  is  like  fire  on  the  hearth,  now  blazing, 
anor  blinkin;.;  and  going  out ;  but  in  God,  like  fire 
in  the  element,  that  never  fails.  In  the  creature 
'tis  like  water  in  a  river  that  falls  and  rises  ;  but 
in  God,  like  water  in  the  sea,  that  is  always  full. 
—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

%.  It  should  lead  us  always  to  trust  Him. 

(2325.)  One  great  object  of  revelation  was  to  show 
us  God  as  our  Fatiier.  It  is  thus  the  Son  reveals 
Him  when  He  says  that  no  man  knovveth  the 
Father  save  the  Son,  and  he  to  whom  the  Son 
revealeth  Him.  And  there  are  many  passages  of 
Scripture  that  point  us  to  this  delightful  revelation 
— sucii  as,  "As  a  father  pitieth  hischiklren.  so  the 
Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  Him  ;"  "I  will  be  to 
him  a  father,  and  he  shall  be  to  Me  a  son."  "  The 
steps  of  a  good  man  are  ordered  by  the  Lord,  and 
He  delighteth  in  his  way."  You  have,  doubtless, 
seen  a  kind  and  tender  parent  taking  the  little  ciiild 
by  the  hand  when  just  beginning  to  walk,  turning 
the  steps  aside  when  obstacles  are  in  the  way, 
directing  the  child  where  to  walk,  and  bending  over 
the  little  one  with  fond  delight.  I  have  seen  young 
parents  laugliing  with  joy  when  they  have  observed 
the  first  steps  which  the  little  ones  take —  they 
c?';liL;hte<l  in  their  way.  And  so  God  is  represented 
as  liending  from  above  over  us,  and  ordering  the 
steps  of  a  good  man,  watching  his  pathway,  holding 
him  by  the  hand,  leading  him  in  the  way  he  should 
go,  and  delighting  in  his  way.  And  never  was  a 
tender  and  loving  parent  so  delighted  in  marking 
the  footsteps  of  a  child,  as  CJod  in  watching  the 
ways  of  a  good  man— delighted  at  all  his  efforts  in 
the  ()aths  of  piety  and  peace. 

Such  declarations  present  the  doctrine  of  the 
watcii-care  of  God  over  them  that  fear  Him  ;  or,  as 
it  is  sometimes  called,  the  doctrine  of  a  special 
providence.  This  doctrine  teaches  us  that  God  is 
especially  watchful  over  those  who  love  Him  ;  and 
that,  where  men  fear  and  serve  Him,  He  has  special 


care  toward  them  —  watches  their  pathway  and 
directs  their  movements.  — Simpson. 

(2326.)  Walking  down  W Street  one  morning, 

I  saw  a  little  blind  boy  standing  on  the  side-walk, 
with  his  head  bent  forward  as  if  eagerly  listening. 
Stepping  up  to  him,  I  said  :  "  Shall  I  help  you 
across  the  street,  my  little  friend  ?" 

"Oh!  no,  thank  you;  I  am  waiting  for  my 
father." 

"  Can  you  trust  your  father?  " 

"Oh  !  yes  ;  my  father  always  takes  good  care  of 
me,  leatls  me  all  the  time,  and  when  he  has  my 
hand  I  feel  perfectly  safe.'' 

"  But  why  do  you  feel  safe  ?" 

Raising  his  sightless  eyes,  with  a  sweet  smile  and 
look  of  perfect  trust,  he  replied:  "Oh!  because 
my  father  knows  the  way.  He  can  see,  but  1  am 
blind." 

This  little  blind  boy  preached  a  sermon  to  me. 
Do  Mie,  with  our  hand  in  our  P'ather's,  feel  perfectly 
safe?  We  are  poor  blind  ciiildren,  yet  do  we  not 
often  rebel  against  the  way  the  Father  would  lead  us, 
and  seek  to  go  another  way  which  seems  best  to 
us?  Because  we  feel  the  thorns  sometimes,  and  are 
pierced  by  their  sharpness,  we  try  some  other  path, 
which  seems  to  our  blinded  eyes  to  lead  to  peace 
and  rest.  But  the  Father  can  see,  and  shall  we 
shrink  from  the  path  He  has  marked  out  in  wisdom 
and  love  —  that  path  which,  though  it  be  one  of 
trial  and, suffering,  will  best  fit  us  for  heaven? 

(2327.)  "Well,  now,"  said  Dick  Hardy  thought- 
fully, "it's  mighty  odd  to  me,  that  if  what  you  say 
is  true,  and  that  God  loves  people  so  much  as  to 
send  His  own  Son  to  ilie  in  their  stead,  and  to  make 
them  His  children,  why  is  it  that  some  of  them  very 
children,  yourself  for  instance,  are  struggling  on 
with  a  large  family,  and  only  a  pound  a  week  to  live 
on  ;  why,  if  I  had  a  power  of  money,  I  don't  think 
I'd  like  to  see  my  children  want  for  anything." 

"  But  if  they  want  what  you  knew  was  bad  for 
them,  then,"  said  Frank  Foster,  "I  take  it  you 
would  not  give  it  to  them." 

"No,"  answered  Dick,  "I  suppose  I  would 
not." 

"  Not  even  if  they  could  not  see  the  harm  of  it  ? 
If  they  took  a  fancy  to  have  some  arsenic,  for  in- 
stance, tiiinking  it  would  be  as  nice  as  white  sugar, 
I  think  the  more  you  loved  them  the  less  you'd  give 
it  to  them  ?  Now,  to  show  you  that  God  sometimes 
takes  away  what  we  like,  and  gives  us  what  we  don't 
like,  let  me  tell  you  a  story  of  our  little  Mary. 

"Last  winter  she  was  very  bad  with  what  the 
doctor  called  a  gastric  attack  hanging  over  her  for 
months  ;  sometimes  she'd  be  better,  and  sometimes 
she'd  be  worse ;  and  though  her  appetite  went  to 
nothing,  the  doctor  said  it  was  better  for  her  not  to 
eat  anything,  than  to  eat  what  was  bad  for  her ;  so 
that  vve  were  not  to  give  her  so  much  as  a  taste  of 
anything  sweet,  no  matter  how  much  she  might 
wish  for  it. 

"  Well,  Christmas-eve  came,  and  with  it  the 
Christmas  cake  frosted  all  over  as  if  the  snow  had 
fallen  on  it  and  hardened.  And  when  we  had  afl 
sat  down  to  tea.  Jemmy  said,  'Now,  father,  please 
help  Mary  first,  and  let  her  have  the  biggest  hit  of 
all  because  she  is  sick.'  So  I  cut  a  fine  large  slice, 
and  the  poor  little  thing's  eyes  brightened  as  she  sa\< 
me  get  up  and  take  it  over  and  sit  dovvn  beside  her. 
'O  lather,'  she  said,  'that's  a  splendid  piece;  is 


GOD. 


(    404    ) 


GOD. 


U  all  for  me  ? '  *  Every  bit  of  it,  darling,'  I  answered  ; 
and  then  with  a  heavy  heart,  for  I  knew  the  trial  it 
would  be  to  her,  I  added,  '  I  think  you  trust  my 
love  for  you,  Mary  ?  ' 

"  •  Why,  father,  sure  I  know  you  love  me  ;  and 
now  haven't  you  given  me  this  beautiful  piece  ot 
cake  ? ' 

"  *  But  would  you  trust  me  as  much  if  I  told  you 
that  although  I  gave  you  tlie  cake,  and  that  it  was 
really  your  very  own,  yet  that  you  were  not  to  eat  it 
until  you  were  quite  well?  ' 

"  She  laughed  merrily  at  the  idea,  thinking  I  was 
joking,  but  in  a  moment  seeing  how  grave  1  looked, 
she  threw  her  arms  round  my  neck  and  hid  her  face 
on  my  shoulder.  '  Can't  you  trust  my  love,  Mary 
darling,'  I  said  again,  'even  if  I  tell  you  not  to  eat 
your  cake  now?  It's  all  your  very  own,  and  please 
God  you'll  soon  be  well,  and  then  you  shall  eat  it  ; 
but  the  doctor  says  that  if  you  eat  it  now  it  would 
make  you  very  sick  ;  don't  you  think  I  would  rather 
have  you  eat  it  than  eat  it  myself  fifty  times  ov''er? ' 

"At  tJiat  she  looked  up,  and  kissed  me  over 
again  :  '  1  know  you  would,'  she  said,  '  I  do  trust  you, 
father,'  and  she  tried  bravely  to  keep  back  the  tears. 
*  Don't  mini!,'  she  said,  seeing  how  sad  I  looked, 
and  that  some  of  the  other  children  were  crying,  and 
all  of  them  saying  they  wouldn't  have  any  cake  un- 
less Mary  had  some  too.  '  No,  no,'  she  added, 
'  indeed  I  don't  mind  now  ;  I  know  father  is  right, 
he  always  is.' 

"Mary's  smile  was  as  bright  as  ever  again,  and 
her  voice  as  merry  ;  and  1  am  sure  she  trusted  me  so 
much,  that  afler  the  first  moment  of  disa])pointment 
she  did  not  even  wish  to  eat  her  bit  of  cake." 

"And,"  continued  Frank,  "that's  just  it  ;  it  does 
come  natural  to  a  father  to  like  to  see  his  children 
happy,  and  to  give  them  nice  things.  The  hard 
thing  was — and  I  believe  only  a  faJ;her  couid  tell  how 
hard  it  was — to  refuse  my  sick  child  what  she  wished 
for  ;  and  if  this  is  true  of  an  earthly  father,  oh,  how 
much  more  it  must  be  true  of  our  Father  in  heaven  ! 
With  one  word  He  could  make  me  a  rich  man  to- 
morrow, and  He'd  like  to  do  it  too  ;  only  He  sees 
that  riches  would  not  be  good  for  me,  just  as  He  sees 
that  health  would  not  be  good  for  another  ;  and  so 
He  keeps  riches  from  me  and  health  horn  him. 
But  surely  if  my  little  Mary  trusted  me,  1  may  well 
trust  Him  who  so  loved  me  as  to  send  His  only  and 
well-beloved  Son  to  die  for  me." — A  fragment  of  a 
(onversalion  between  two  working-men, 

XXIV.    HIS  MERCY. 
.    1.  He  delights  in  mercy. 

(2328.)  Joy  is  the  highest  testimony  that  can  be 
given  to  our  complacency  in  anything  or  person;  love 
to  joy  is  as  fuel  to  the  fire  ;  if  love  lay  little  fuel  of 
desires  on  the  heart,  tlien  the  flame  of  joy  that  comes 
thence  will  not  be  great.  Now  God's  joy  is  great 
in  pardoning  poor  sinners  that  come  in  ;  therefore 
His  affection  is  great  in  the  offer  thereof.  It  is 
made  the  very  motive  that  prevails  with  God  to 
pardon  sinners,  "  ISecause  He  delighteth  in  mercy." 
Who  is  a  God  like  unto  Thee,  that  pardoneth  ini- 
quity, and  passeth  by  the  transgression  of  the  remnant 
of  His  heritage?  He  retaineth  not  His  anger  for 
ever,  for  He  delighteth  in  mercy.  Ask  why  the  fisher 
stands  all  night  with  his  angle  in  the  river  ;  he  will 
tell  you,  because  he  delights  in  the  sport.  Well, 
you  now  know  the  reason  why  God  stands  so  long 
waiting    on    sinners,   months,    years,    preaching    to 


them  ;  it  is  that  He  may  be  gracious  in  pardoning 
them,  and  in  that  act  delight  Himself.  Princes 
very  often  paidon  traitors  to  please  others  more 
than  themselves,  or  else  it  would  never  be  done  ; 
but  God  doth  it  chiefly  to  delight  and  glad  His  own 
merciful  heart.  Hence  the  business  Christ  came 
about  (which  was  no  other  but  to  reconcile  sinnets 
to  (lod)  is  called  "the  pleasure  ol  the  Lord" 
(Isa.  liii.  10).  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

2.  Is  needed  by  all. 

(2329.)  The  most  holy  men,  although  like  the 
ark  they  keep  both  the  first  and  second  table  of  the 
law  of  God,  and  have  in  their  hearts  with  the  manna 
ot  His  grace  the  rod  ot  His  fear,  have  always  need 
to  be  co\ered  with  the  mercy-seat  ;  and  their  most 
holy  and  devout  aspirations  have  always  something 
faulty  in  them,  as  the  strong  scent  of  the  galbanum 
was  mingled  with  all  the  perfumes  of  the  law, 

— Faucheur. 

(2330.)  Though  we  have  sinned  less  than  others, 
we  cannot  be  saved  by  merit  ;  even  as,  thank  God, 
though  we  have  sinned  more  than  others,  we  may 
be  saved  by  mercy.  How  idle  to  talk  of  other  men 
being  greater  sinners  than  we  are—  to  flatter  and 
deceive  ourselves  with  that  !  He  drowns  as  surely 
who  has  his  head  beneath  one  inch  ol  water,  as  he 
who,  with  a  millstone  hung  round  his  neck,  has 
sunk  a  hundred  fathoms  down.  Let  the  strain  of 
the  tempest  come,  and  the  ship  that  has  one  bad 
link  in  her  cable,  as  certainly  goes  ashore  to  be 
dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks,  as  another  that  has 
twenty  bad.  It  is,  no  doubt,  by  repeated  strokes 
of  the  woodman's  axe  that  the  oak,  bending  slowly 
to  fate,  bows  its  proud  head  and  falls  to  the 
ground,  and  it  is  by  long  dropping  that  water  hol- 
lows the  hardest  stone.  But  those  who  speak  ot 
great  and  little,  of  few  or  many  sins,  seem  to  lorget 
that  man's  ruin  was  the  work  of  one  moment,  and 
of  one  sin.  The  weight  of  only  one  sin  sank  this 
great  world  into  perdition  ;  and  now  al'  of  us,  all 
men,  lie  under  the  same  sentence  of  condemnation. 
Extinguishing  every  hope  of  salvation  through 
works,  and  sounding  as  ominous  of  evil  in  mens 
ears,  as  the  cracking  of  ice  beneath  our  feet,  or  the 
roar  of  an  avalanche,  or  the  grating  of  a  keel  on  the 
sunken  reef,  or  the  hammer  that  wakens  the  felon 
from  dreams  of  life  and  liberty,  that  sentence  is  this 
—  "Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all 
things  written  in  the  book  <if  the  law  to  do  them." 

Such  is  our  position  ;  and  instead  of  shutting  out 
eyes  to  it,  like  the  foolish  ostrich  that  hides  hel 
head  in  the  bush  when  the  hunters  are  at  her  heels, 
it  is  well  to  know,  and  to  face  it.  — Guthrie. 

3.  Is  offered  to  all. 

(2331.)  There  are  many  who,  being  conscious  of 
wickedness  and  not  being  Christians,  do  not  see 
why  they  should  ask  Divine  succour.  There  are 
many  who  are  conscious  of  being  boimd  by  ;vil, 
and  they  fain  would  break  away  from  it.  If  only 
they  were  Christians,  and  in  the  Church,  God  would 
help  them  ;  but  they  are  sinners,  and  out  of  the 
Church,  and  they  dare  not  go  to  God.  Many  a 
man  wouid  fain  break  away  from  the  cup,  but  he 
knows  that  his  own  strength  is  insufficient  ;  and  as 
he  1"  not  a  Christian,  as  he  has  made  his  invest- 
ments in  evi',  he  does  not  feel  that  he  has  a  right 
to  draw  upon  the  bank  of  Divine  mercy.  He  keeps 
no  account  there,  and  be  has  no  reason  to  think 


GOD. 


405    ) 


GOD. 


that  his  check  will  be  honoured  there  if  he  presents 
It. 

Now,  there  is  not  a  human  being  in  or  out  of  the 
Church  who  is  not  an  object  of  Divine  compassion 
and  divine  love.  God  may  have  the  love  of  com- 
placency whien  His  Spirit  shall  have  drawn  you  more 
and  more  into  the  lines  and  lineaments  of  His  own 
blessed  beauty  ;  but  God  is  love,  and  He  will  not 
wait  lor  yuur  turning  before  He  loves  you.  God  so 
loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His  Son  to  die  for  it, 
and  to  die  for  it  while  yet  it  was  in  sin — yea,  and  at 
enmity  to  Him.  God's  love  precedes  all  relorma- 
tion.  And  there  is  no  man — not  a  drunkard,  not  a 
gambler,  not  a  thiet,  not  a  person  that  is  filled  full 
of  passions  and  appetites — who  has  not  a  right,  to- 
day, now,  here,  in  his  heart,  to  look  up  and  say, 
"  God  help  me  ! "  Your  sinfulness  is  not  a  reason 
why  you  should  keep  away  from  God.  It  is  the 
very  reason  why  you  should  go  to  Him.  He  is  to 
your  soul  what  the  physician  is  to  your  body. 
When  your  body  is  racked  with  pains,  or  is  swollen 
with  disease,  you  go  to  the  physician  that  he  may 
heal  you.  And  so,  the  consciousness  01  your  sin, 
and  of  the  hatetulness  of  it,  is  the  very  reason  why 
you  should  go  to  God.  — Bcechei: 

4.  Exceeds  our  sin. 

(2332.)  Our  faults  are  like  a  grain  01  sand  beside 
tie  great  mountain  ol  the  mercies  ol  God. 

—  Vianney. 

(2333.)  He  is  rich  in  mercy,  abundant  in  good- 
ness and  truth.  Thy  sins  are  like  a  si)ark  of  fire 
that  falls  into  the  ocean,  it  is  quenclied  presently  ; 
so  are  all  thy  sins  in  the  ocean  of  God's  mercy. 
There  is  not  more  water  in  the  sea,  than  there  is 
mercy  in  God.  — Alanton,  1620-1667. 

(2334.)  Oh,  who  can  read  a  Matiasseh,  a  Afaq- 
dalene,  a  Saul;  yea,  an  A  Jam  (who  undid  himself, 
and  a  whole  world  with  him),  in  the  roll  of  pardoned 
sinners,  and  yet  turn  away  from  the  promise,  out  of 
a  fear  that  there  is  not  mercy  enough  in  it  to  serve 
his  turn  ?  These  are  as  land-marks,  that  show 
what  large  boundaries  mercy  hath  set  to  itself,  and 
how  far  it  hath  gone,  even  to  take  into  its  pardon- 
ing arms  the  greatest  sinners,  that  make  not  them- 
selves incapable  thereof  by  final  impenitency.  It 
were  a  healthful  walk,  poor  doubting  Christian,  for 
thy  soul,  to  go  this  circuit,  and  oft  to  see  where  the 
utmost  stone  is  laid,  and  boundary  set  by  God's 
pardoning  mercy,  turther  than  which  He  will  not 
go.  — Giiniall,  1617-1679. 

(2335.)  Impossible  it  is,  that  He  should  re'ect 
any  poor  penitent  sinner,  meiely  for  the  greatness 
of  the  sins  he  hath  committed.  It  is  tlie  exaltation 
ot  His  mercy  (saith  laith)  that  God  hath  in  His  eye 
when  He  promiseth  pardon  to  poor  sinners.  Now, 
which  exalts  this  most,  to  pi.rdon  little  or  great 
sinners?  whose  voice  will  be  highest  and  shrillest 
in  the  song  of  praise,  thinkest  thou  ?  surely  his,  to 
whom  most  is  forgiven  ;  and  therefore  God  cannot 
but  be  most  ready  to  pardon  the  greatest  sinners 
when  truly  penitent.  A  physician  that  means  to 
be  famous,  will  not  send  away  those  that  most  need 
his  skill  and  art  ;  and  only  practise  upon  such 
diseases  as  are  slight  and  ordinary.  They  are  the 
great  cures,  which  ring  far  and  near  :  when  one 
given  over  by  himself  and  others,  as  a  dead  man, 
is  by  the  skill  and  care  of  a  physician  rescued  out 


of  the  jaws  of  death,  that  seemed  to  have  enclosed 
him,  and  raised  to  health.  This  commends  him  tc 
all  that  hear  of  it,  and  gains  him  more  reputation 
than  a  whole  year's  practice  in  ordinary  cures. 

—  Giunall,  1617-1679. 

(2336.)  Why  dost  thou  not  believe  in  Gods 
mercy?  Is  it  thy  sins  discourage?  God's  mercy 
can  pardon  great  sins,  nay,  because  they  are  great 
(Ps.  XXV.  11).  The  sea  covers  great  rocks  as  well 
as  lesser  sands.  — IVatson,  idc^d. 

(2337-)  You  cannot  believe  too  much  in  God's 
mercy.  You  cannot  expect  too  much  at  His  hands. 
He  is  "able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all 
that  we  ask  or  think."  No  sin  is  so  great  but  that, 
coming  straight  from  it,  a  repentant  sinner  may 
hope  and  believe  that  all  God's  love  will  be  lavished 
upon  him,  and  the  richest  of  God's  gifts  granted  to 
his  desires.  Even  if  our  transgiession  be  aggravated 
by  a  previous  life  of  godliness,  and  have  given  the 
enemies  great  occasion  to  blaspheme,  as  David  did, 
yet  David's  penitence  may  in  our  souls  lead  on  to 
David's  hope,  and  the  answer  will  not  fail  us.  Let 
no  sin,  however  dark,  however  repeated,  drive  us  to 
despair  of  ourselves,  because  it  hides  from  us  our 
loving  Saviour.  Though  beaten  back  again  and 
again  by  the  surge  of  our  passions  and  sins,  like 
some  poor  shipwrecked  sailor  sucked  back  with 
every  retreating  wave  and  tossed  about  in  the  angry 
surf,  yet  keep  your  face  towards  the  beach  where 
there  is  safety,  and  you  will  struggle  through  it  all, 
and,  though  it  were  but  on  some  floating  boards 
and  broken  pieces  of  the  ship,  will  come  safe  to 
land.  He  will  uphold  you  with  His  Spirit,  and 
take  away  the  weight  of  sin  that  would  sink  you,  by 
His  forgiving  mercy,  and  bring  you  out  of  all  the 
weltering  waste  of  waters  to  the  sulid  shore. 

— Maclaren. 

5.  Is  accorded  instantly. 

(2338.)  It  is  harder  to  get  sin  felt  by  the  creature, 
than  the  burden,  when  (elt,  removed,  by  the  hand 
of  a  forgiving  God.  Never  was  tender-hearteil 
surgeon  more  willing  to  take  up  the  vein,  and  bind 
up  the  wound  of  his  fainting  patient  when  he  hath 
bled  enough,  than  God  is  by  His  pardoning  mercy 
to  ease  the  troubled  spirit  of  a  mourning  penitent. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2339-)  God  will  pardon  a  repentant  sinncf  more 
quickly  than  a  mother  would  snatch  her  child  out 
of  the  fire.  — Vianney. 

6.  How  •wonderfully  we  are  urged  to  seek  It. 
(2340.)   If  a  judge  of  an  assize  should   say  to  a 

felon,  or  some  malefactor  in  the  gaol,  "  Confess  but 
your  faults  and  become  an  honest  man,  I  will  pardon 
you  ;  and  not  only  so,  but  you  shall  be  made  a 
justice  of  peace,  or  some  great  man,  whereby  you 
shall  have  power  to  judge  and  examine  others  !  " 
surely,  he  would,  upon  this  promise,  be  moved 
quickly  to  confess  the  felony  and  forego  his  theft, 
'i'hus  it  is  that  the  Judge  of  all  the  world  makes 
great  tenders  of  mercy,  that  if  a  sinner  will  truly 
and  from  his  heart  confess  his  sins,  and  resolve  'o 
leave  them,  he  shall  have  pardon  ;  and  not  only  so, 
l^ut  he  shall  be  made  a  king  and  priest  unto  God 
the  Father,  an  heir  of  God,  and  joint-heir  with 
Christ  Jesus.  — tiUL 

7.  It  Is  inexliaustlble. 

(2341.)  There  ii  as  great  an  ability  in  God,  when 


GOD. 


{    Ao5    ) 


GOD, 


we  are  in  need  of  new  mercies,  as  there  was  when 
He  gave  former  ones  ;  nay,  as  much  as  there  was 
from  eternity.  He  is  not  a  God  whose  arm  is 
shortened,  that  is  not  what  He  was,  or  shall  ever 
cease  to  be  wliat  He  is  :  "  Is  My  hand  shortened 
.it  all  that  I  cannot  redeem,  or  have  I  no  power  to 
deliver?"  He  is  always,  "I  am  that  I  am."  There 
is  no  diminution  of  liglit  in  the  sun  no  more  that 
there  was  at  the  first  moment  of  its  creation,  and 
the  last  man  upon  earth  sliall  enjoy  as  much  of  it 
as  we  do  now.  No  more  does  tlie  Father  of  lights 
lose  by  inijiarting  it  to  others.  Thus  we  liglit  many 
candles  at  a  torch,  yet  it  burns  never  the  dimmer. 
Standing  waters  may  be  drawn  dry,  but  a  fountain 
cannot.  God  is  a  spring,  tliis  day  and  to-morrow, 
Jehovah  unchangeable.  The  God  of  Isaac  is  not 
like  Isaac,  that  had  one  blessing  and  no  more  ;  He 
has  as  niucn  now  as  He  had  the  first  moment  that 
Hiercy  streamed  from  Him  to  His  creature,  and  the 
same  for  as  mnny  as  shall  believe  in  Christ  to  the 
end  of  the  world  ;  nay,  the  more  we  receive  from 
God  in  a  way  of  faith,  the  more  God  has  for  us.  A 
believer's  harvest  for  present  mercies  is  his  seed- 
time for  more.  The  more  mercies  he  reajis,  the 
more  hopes  of  future  mercy  he  lias.  God's  mercies, 
when  full-blown,  seed  again  and  come  up  thicker. 
Can  the  creature  want  more  than  the  Everlasting 
Fountain  can  supply?  Can  the  creature's  indigency 
be  greater  than  God's  sufficiency?  What  an  irra- 
tional way  of  arguing  was  that  :  "  He  smote  the 
rock  that  the  waters  gushed  out ;  can  He  give  bread 
also?  can  He  provide  for  His  peo|ile  ? "  as  if  He 
that  filled  their  cup  could  not  spread  their  table,  as 
if  He  that  had  a  hidden  cellar  for  their  drink  had  not 
a  secret  and  as  full  a  cu|)l)oard  for  their  meat.  Do 
we  want  mercies  for  soul  and  body?  Look  to  the 
]<ock  whence  former  mercies  were  hewn  !  the  same 
fulness  can  supply  again. 

—  Charnock,  1628- 1 6So. 

(2342.)  A  benevolent  person  gave  Mr.  Rowland 
Hill  a  hundred  pounds  todispense  to  a  poor  minister, 
and  thinking  it  was  too  much  to  send  him  all  at 
once,  Mr.  Hill  forwarded  five  pounds  in  a  letter, 
with  simply  these  words  within  the  envelope,  "  More 
to  follow."-  In  a  few  day's  time,  the  good  man 
received  another  letter  by  the  post — and  letters  by 
the  post  were  rarities  in  those  days  ;  this  second 
messenger  contained  another  five  pounds,  with  the 
same  motto,  "  And  more  to  follow."  A  day  or  two 
after  came  a  tliird  and  a  fourth,  and  still  the  same 
promise,  "And  more  to  follow."  Till  the  whole 
sum  had  bten  received  the  astonished  minister  was 
made  fa.mliar  with  the  cheering  words,  "And  more 
to  fviiiow." 

Every  blessing  that  comes  from  God  is  sent  with 
the  selfsame  message,  "  And  more  to  follow."  "  I 
forgive  you  your  sins,  but  tliere's  more  to  follow." 
"I  justify  you  in  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  but 
there's  more  to  follow."  "I  adopt  you  into  My 
family,  but  there's  more  to  follow."  "I  educate 
you  for  heaven,  but  there's  more  to  follow."  "I 
give  you  grace  upon  grace,  but  there's  more  to 
follow."  "  I  have  hel]ied  you  even  to  old  age,  but 
there's  still  more  to  follow."  "  I  will  uphold  you 
in  the  hour  of  death,  and  as  you  are  passing  into  the 
world  of  spirits  My  mercy  shall  still  continue  with 
you,  and  when  you  land  in  the  world  to  come  there 
shall  still  be  more  to  follow."        — Spiirgeon. 

(2343.)  It  is  by  rs)  means  pleasant  when  reading 
an  >nferesting  article  in  your  magazine  to  find  your- 


self pulled  up  short  with  the  ominous  words,  **to  H 
cotiliiiiied."  Yet  they  are  words  of  good  cheer  il 
applied  to  other  matters.  What  a  comfort  to  re- 
member that  the  Lord's  mercy  and  loving-kindness 
is  to  be  continued!  Much  as  we  have  experienced 
in  the  long  years  of  our  pilgrimage,  we  have  by  no 
means  outlived  eternal  love.  Providential  goodness 
is  an  endless  chain,  a  stream  which  follows  the 
pilgrim,  a  wheel  perpetually  revolving,  a  star  for 
ever  shining,  and  leading  us  to  the  place  where  He 
is  who  was  once  a  babe  in  Bethlehem.  All  the 
volumes  which  record  the  doings  of  Divine  grace  are 
but  part  of  a  series  to  be  continued,     — Spur^con, 

(2344.)  I  know  of  a  father  who,  after  his  son 
came  back  the  fourth  time,  said,  "  No  !  I  forgave 
you  three  times,  but  I  will  never  forgive  you  again." 
And  the  son  went  off  and  died.  But  God  takes 
back  His  children  the  ihousnndth  time  as  cheerfidly 
as  the  first.  As  easily  as  with  my  handkerchief  I 
strike  the  dust  off  this  book,  God  will  wipe  out  all 
our  sins. 

Oh  this  mercy  of  God  !  I  am  told  it  is  an  ocean. 
Then  I  place  on  it  four  swift-sailing  craft,  with 
compass,  and  charts,  and  choice  rigging,  and  skilful 
navigators,  and  I  tell  them  to  launch  away,  and 
discover  for  me  the  extent  of  this  ocean.  That 
cr;ift  puts  out  in  one  direction,  and  sails  to  the 
north  ;  this  to  the  south  ;  this  to  the  east  ;  this  to 
the  west.  They  crowd  on  all  their  canvas,  and  sail 
ten  thousand  years,  and  one  day  come  up  the  har- 
bour of  heaven  ;  and  I  shout  to  them  from  the 
beach,  "Have  you  found  the  shore?"  and  they 
answer,  "  No  shore  to  God's  mercy."  Swift  angels, 
despatched  from  the  throne,  attempt  to  go  across 
it.  For  a  million  years  they  fly  and  fly  ;  but  then 
come  back  and  fold  their  wings  at  the  foot  of  the 
throne,  and  cry,  "No  shore  1  no  shoje  to  God's 
mercy  ! "  —  Tahnage. 

(2345.)  And  now  we  beseech  of  Thee  that  we 
may  have  every  day  some  such  senoe  of  the  ful- 
ness of  God's  mercy  and  of  the  (lOwer  of  God 
around  about  us,  as  we  have  of  the  fulness  of  the 
light  of  heaven  before  us.  Our  tapers  we  trim,  and 
we  fear  lest  the  lamp  shall  go  out  without  oil  ;  but 
none  of  us  hnve  ever  had  a  thought  or  a  care  lest 
the  sun  should  be  emptied,  or  lest  the  air  should 
be  exhausted.  The  supply  is  over-abundant,  and 
the  waste  is  infinitely  more  than  that  which  we  use. 

— Beecher. 

8.  Must  be  personally  souglit. 

(2346.)  As  a  man  is  saved  by  catching  hold  of  a 
cable  ;  God's  mercy  is  a  great  cable  let  down  from 
heaven  to  us  ;  now,  taking  fast  hold  of  this  cable  by 
faith,  we  are  saved.  — Watson,  1696. 

(2347.)  If  God  show  mercy  to  thousands,  labour 
to  know  that  this  mercy  is  for  you.  "  He  is  the  God 
of  my  mercy"  (Ps.  lix.  17).  A  rpan  that  was  ready 
to  drown,  saw  a  rainbow  ;  saith  he,  "  What  am  I 
the  better,  though  God  will  not  drown  the  world, 
if  I  drown?"  So,  what  are  we  the  better  God  is 
merciful,  if  we  perish?  let  us  labour  to  know  God's 
special  mercy  is  for  us.  — iVatson,  1696. 

9.  Is  limited  to  this  life. 

(2348.)  Let  us  take  heed,  for  mercy  is  like  a  rain- 
bow, which  God  set  in  the  clouds  to  remembc 
mankind  :  it  shines  here  as  long  as  it  is  not  hin- 
dered ;  but  we  must  never  look  for  it  after    it   is 


GOD. 


(    407    ) 


GOD 


night,  and  it  shines  not  in  the  other  world.     If  we 
refuse  mercy  here,  we  shall  have  justice  there. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

10,  Is  not  to  be  abused. 

(2349.)  Take  heed  of  abusing  this  mercy  of  God. 
Suck  not  poison  out  of  the  sweet  flower  of  God's 
mercy  :  do  not  think,  that  because  God  is  merciful, 
you  may  go  on  in  sin  ;  this  is  to  make  mercy  be- 
come your  enemy.  None  mii^ht  touch  the  ark  but 
the  priests,  who  by  their  ofiice  were  more  holy  ; 
none  may  touch  this  ark  of  God's  mercy  but  such 
as  are  resolved  to  be  holy.  To  sin  because  mercy 
abounds,  is  the  devil's  logic.  He  that  sins  because 
of  mercy,  is  like  one  tiiat  wounds  his  head  because 
he  hath  a  plaister  ;  he  that  sins  because  of  God's 
mercy,  shall  have  judgment  without  mercy.  Mercy 
abused  turns  to  fury.  "  If  he  bless  himself,  saying, 
I  shall  have  peace  though  I  walk  after  the  imagina- 
tions of  my  heart,  to  add  drunkenness  to  thirst,  the 
Lord  will  not  spare  him,  but  the  anger  of  the  Lord 
and  His  jealousy  shall  smoke  against  that  man." 
Nothing  sweeter  than  mercy  when  it  is  improved  ; 
nothing  fiercer,  when  it  is  abused  ;  nothing  colder 
than  lead,  when  it  is  taken  out  of  the  mine  ;  nothing 
moie  scalding  than  lead,  when  it  is  heated  ;  no- 
thing ijlunler  than  iron  ;  nothing  sharper,  when  it 
is  whetted.  "  The  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  ujion  them 
that  fear  him."  Mercy  is  not  for  them  that  sin  and 
fear  not,  bui  for  them  that  fear  and  sin  not.  God's 
mercy  is  an  holy  mercy  ;  where  it  pardons,  it  heals. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2350.)  Would  we  not  cry,  Shame  of  him,  who 
had  a  friend  always  feeding  him  with  money,  and 
he  should  betray  and  injure  that  friend.  Thus  un- 
gratefully do  sinners  deal  with  God,  they  do  not 
only  forget  His  mercies,  but  abuse  them.  "When  I 
had  fed  them  to  the  full,  they  then  committed 
adultery."  Oh  how  horrid  is  this,  to  sin  against  a 
bountiful  God  !  to  strike  (as  it  were)  those  hands 
tlrat  relieve  us  !  This  gives  a  dye  and  tincture  to 
men's  sins,  and  makes  them  crimson.  How  many 
make  a  dart  of  God's  mercies,  and  shoot  at  Him  ? 
He  gives  them  wit,  and  they  serve  the  devil  with 
it  ;  He  gives  them  strength,  and  they  waste  it 
among  harlots  ;  He  gives  them  bread  to  eat,  and 
they  lift  up  the  heel  against  Him.  "  Jeshurun  waxed 
fat,  and  kicked."  These  are  like  Absalom,  who, 
as  soon  as  David  his  father  kissed  him,  plotted 
treason  against  him  (2  Sam.  xv.  10).  Like  the 
mule,  who  kicks  the  dam  after  she  hath  given  it 
milk.  Those  who  sin  against  their  giver,  and 
abuse  God's  royal  favours,  the  mercies  of  God  will 
come  in  as  witnesses  against  them.  What  smootlier 
than  oil  ?  But  if  it  be  heated,  what  more  scalding  ? 
What  sweeter  than  mercy  ?  But  if  it  be  abused, 
what  more  dreadful  ?     It  turns  to  fury. 

—  iValson,  1696. 
XXV.    HIS  GRACE. 

X.  Is  ever  needful. 

(2351)  All  our  power  for  sacred  performances  is 
wholly  from  another;  "Not  that  we  are  sufficient 
of  .ourselves  to  think  anything."  To  think,  we 
suppose,  is  an  easy  thing  ;  but  unless  God  h^'p,  it 
is  toe  hard  foi  us.  God  gave  Israel  tlieir  manna 
every  day,  or  they  could  not  have  subsisted.  God 
must  give  us  fresn  supplies  of  His  Spirit  in  every 
duty,  or  they  cannot  be  rightly  performed.  The 
greatest  fulness  of  a  Christian  is  not  the  fulness  of 


a  fountain,  but  of  a  vessel,  which,  because  always 
is  letting  out,  must  be  always  taking  in.  The 
conduit,  which  is  continually  running,  must  be  al- 
ways receiving  from  the  river.  The  Christian's 
disbursements  are  great  and  constant  ;  therefore 
such  must  his  incomes  from  God  be,  or  he  will 
quickly  prove  a  bankrupt.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(2352.)  Our  preservation  from  evil  and  perse- 
verance in  good  is  a  most  free  unmerited  favour,  the 
effect  of  God's  renewed  grace  in  the  course  of  our 
lives.  Witliout  His  special  assistance,  we  should 
every  hour  forsake  Him,  and  provoke  Him  to  for- 
sake us.  As  the  iron  cannot  ascend  or  hang  in  the 
air  longer  than  the  virtue  of  the  loadstone  draws  it, 
so  our  affections  cannot  ascend  to  those  glorious 
things  that  are  above  without  the  continually 
attracting  power  of  grace.      — Bates,  1625-1699. 

(2353.)  Alas,  O  Lord,  what  am  I  when  left  to 
myself  but  a  dry  parched  ground,  which,  being  rent 
on  every  side,  witnesses  its  thirst  for  rain  from 
heaven,  but  which  in  the  meantime  is  dispersed  by 
the  wind  and  reduced  to  dust.   — Francis  de  Sa/es. 

(2354.)  As  the  earth  can  produce  nothing  unless 
it  is  fertiliseil  by  the  sun,  so  we  can  do  nothing  with- 
out the  grace  of  God.  —  /  'laiuiey, 

(2355.)  It  (c;race)  is  God  taking  the  sinner  by  the 
hand,  and  wishing  to  teach  him  to  walk.  We  are 
like  little  chiklren,  v\e  do  not  know  how  to  walk 
on  the  road  to  heaven  ;  we  stagger,  we  fall,  unless 
the  hand  of  Gud  is  always  ready  to  support  us. 

The  grace  of  God  helps  us  to  walk,  and  supports 
us.  He  is  as  necessary  to  us  as  crutches  are  to  a 
lame  man.  —  Vianitey. 

(2356.)  Let  the  lily  be  exposed  to  the  scorching 
sun,  and  deprived  of  the  refreshing  dew,  and  its 
leaves  will  droop  and  die.  just  so  the  Chiistian  : 
let  him  be  exposed  10  the  scorciiing  heat  of  indwell- 
ing corruption,  the  world's  cares,  and  Satan's  wiles, 
without  liie  dew  of  God's  grace,  he  will  not  advance 
in  holiness  of  heart  and  life.  But  when  that  de- 
scends, his  leaves  stand  erect,  and,  like  the  lily,  his 
growth  is  rapid.  Integrity  strengtiiens,  benevolence 
expands,  holiness  opens  in  all  its  lily-like  loveliness, 
and  in  due  time  the  plant  is  removed  to  the  paradise 
of  God,  there  to  bloom  in  unfading  beauty. 

— Jackson. 

(2357.)  The  acts  of  breathing  which  I  performed 
yesterday  will  not  kee^  me  alive  to-day  ;  I  must 
continue  to  breathe  afresh  every  moment,  or  animal 
life  ceases.  In  like  manner,  yesterday's  grace  and 
s])iritual  strength  must  be  renewed,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  must  continue  to  breathe  on  my  soul,  from 
moment  to  moment,  in  order  to  my  enjoying  thp 
consolations,  and  to  my  working  the  works  of  God. 
—  Toplady,  1 740- 1 7  78. 

(2358.)  What  man  can  re-create  himself?  I  go, 
in  January,  into  my  garden.  This  plum  tree  has 
ceased  growing.  So  has  that  pea^  tree — and  so  have 
all  these  other  trees.  And  my  flowers,  to  all  ajjpear- 
ance.  are  dead.  And  1  propose  a  resurrection.  It 
may  be  that  by  building  a  shelter  around  one  single 
plant  or  tree,  1  can  thaw  out  tiic  soil,  and  by  artifi- 
cial heat  wake  up  the  dormant  bud,  and  bring  spring 
into  it.  But  what  man  can  enclose  his  whole  garden, 
and  bring  summer  into  that  in  the  middle  of  winter? 


GOD. 


( 


408 
— T" 


) 


COD. 


And  if  a  man  can't  do  this  with  his  garden,  who  can 
do  it  with  his  whole  farm  ?  It  is  a  task  that  defies 
all  human  power.  Not  till  God  calls  the  sun,  and 
it  comes  hastening  back,  full  of  vivific  powers,  and 
fruitful  influences — not  till  then  does  the  soil  heave, 
and  the  root  swell,  and  the  leaf  shoot  forth,  and  the 
bud  protrude,  and  the  blossom  exhale,  and  all  things 
show  that  more  than  a  man,  with  his  artificial  appli- 
ances, is  at  work. 

Now,  with  regard  to  a  man's  character,  it  is  true 
that,  so  far  as  any  special  disposition  is  concerned, 
the  power  of  the  will  to  do  right  or  wrong  is  un- 
doubted. You  can  correct  a  single  habit  ;  but  the 
great  outlying  domain  of  the  soul,  with  its  multitu- 
dinous habits,  formed  and  forming — what  man  can 
look  upon  this  and  say,  "  By  the  power  of  my  own 
volition,  I  will  bring  up  good  where  there  is  evil  ; 
love  shall  rule  where  selfishness  reigns?  "  There  is 
not  one  single  moment  when  a  man  does  not  run 
away  from  himself;  when  his  disposition  does  not 
break  loose  from  his  will.  It  is  not  till  some  influ- 
ence from  God  is  shed  down  upon  a  man,  vivifying 
hJm  as  summer  vivifies  the  soil,  that  he  feels,  "I 
have  hope."  Therefore  it  is  said,  "Work  out  your 
own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,"  as  a  man 
must  that  works  in  such  a  crater  as  the  human  heart ; 
"for  it  is  God  which  worketh  in  you." 

— Beecher, 

2.  Ever  available. 

(2359.)  When  a  child  has  been  away  all  day  long, 
playing  truant,  and  the  afternoon  comes,  and  \\  ith  it 
hunger  and  the  necessity  of  shelter,  he  must  go  home; 
and  he  goes  towards  his  father's  house,  thinking  to 
himself  what  plausible  lie  to  tell — how  he  can  make 
tattered  truth  seem  like  an  unrent  garment.  And 
so,  with  an  ill-feigned  appearance  of  innocence, 
and  perhaps  with  a  forced  smile  on  his  face,  he  enters 
the  door,  trying  to  look  as  if  he  were  not  a  guilty 
child.  He  runs  with  alacrity  to  perform  every 
errand  imposed  upon  him.  His  conduct,  however, 
is  suspicious  ;  for  he  is  too  good  for  an  innocent  child. 
He  thinks  nothing  is  known  of  his  disobedience. 
But  while  he  sits  with  the  family  at  tea,  the  burden 
on  his  mind  grows  heavier  and  heavier ;  and  he 
says  to  himself,  "  They  are  very  kind  to  me,  and  if 
I  thought  that  they  knew  it  all,  and  they  were  so 
kind,  how  happy  I  should  be  !  "  He  expects  that  they 
will  find  it  out,  and  that  then  there  will  be  a  time 
of  it.  Now  his  father  and  mother  are  pleasant 
toward  him,  but  he  thinks  that  by  and  by  it  will 
come  out,  and  that  then  will  follow  chastisement 
and  trouble.  And  that  great  undiscovered  guilt  in 
the  soul,  that  account  yet  to  be  settled,  takes  away 
all  the  joys  of  his  home,  and  makes  the  evening  a 
torment.  But  if,  when  he  came  in,  his  mother  had 
stolen  behind  him,  and  said  to  him  in  a  gentle  tone, 
"  VVe  know  it  all,  my  child  ;  we  are  sorry  ;  but  we 
shall  5ay  nothing  about  it  ;  we  shall  let  it  pass,"  the 
child  as  soon  as  he  found  that  it  was  all  known  and 
forgiven,  and  that  he  was  the  recipient  of  so  much 
love,  not  because  they  did  not  know  it,  but  because 
knowing  it  they  saw  sufficient  reasons  why  it  should 
be  passed  by,  and  not  laid  to  his  account,  how  sweet 
to  him  would  have  been  his  father's  and  mother's 
kindness  1  It  would  have  brought  tears  to  his  eyes 
as  it  had  never  done  before.  And  when  he  went  to 
his  couch  at  night,  how  sweet  would  their  unscoid- 
ing  forgiveness  have  been  to  him  !  It  would  have 
been  all  the  sweeter  because  all  the  time  they  knew 
his  guilt. 


Now,  the  apostle  sa}s,  "With  your  guilt,  with 
your  trouble,  go  before  God."  He  knows  all. 
What  nobody  else  knows,  He  knows.  He  knowt 
what  even  the  wife  of  your  bosom  does  not  know. 
He  knows  what  has  never  been  divulged  to  any  liv- 
ing soul.  Wicked  thoughts  and  intentions  in  con- 
nection with  your  business,  which  perhaps  no  man 
knows  except  yourself.  He  knows.  And  when  you 
feel  an  impulse  to  go  before  God,  do  not  say,  ''  I 
would  go  ;  but  tliat  crime."  He  knew  of  that  crime 
before  He  invited  you  to  go  to  Him.  Do  riOt  say, 
"  I  would  go  ;  but  that  unwashed  lust."  He  has 
known  that  lust  from  the  beginning.  "  All  things 
are  naked  and  opened  unto  the  eyes  of  Him  with 
whom  we  have  to  do."  "Let  us,  therefore,"  says 
the  apostle,  "come  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace, 
that  we  may  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help." 
Grace  to  help — that  is  it:  grace  to  help  you  out  of 
your  sin.  Let  no  one,  then,  who  has  a  sense  of  his 
sinfulness,  who  is  truly  repentant,  and  who  is  striving 
to  di)  better,  hesitate  to  go  to  God,  saying,  "  Have 
mercy  upon  me,  and  help  me."  — Beecher. 

(2360.)  The  truth  of  the  bountifulness  and  large* 
ness  of  God's  grace  and  goodness  is  true  for  every- 
body, provided  everybody  will  put  himself  in  a 
relation  to  take  it.  The  reason  why  the  sun  pro- 
duces in  one  place  geraniums,  camellias,  azaleas,  all 
forms  of  exquisite  flower<,  and  does  not  produce 
them  in  another  place,  is  not  in  the  sun.  The  cause 
of  the  difference  is  in  the  use  to  which  you  put  the 
sun.  It  shines  on  tne  south  side  of  my  barn,  and 
what  does  it  produce  there?  A  warm  spot,  where 
chickens  and  cows  gather.  It  shines  on  the  south 
side  of  my  neighbour  s  barn,  and  what  does  it  pro- 
duce there?  Flowers  and  grapes.  What  is  the 
reason  of  the  difference?  Does  the  sun  change? 
No,  but  it  is  put  to  difterent  uses.  It  ia  just  the 
sam.e  sun,  with  just  the  same  vivific  power  to  all ; 
but  its  effects  are  difi'erent  when  it  is  differently 
employed.  In  one  man's  hands  it  amounts  to 
nothing,  because  he  does  not  make  any  use  of  it  ; 
but  in  another  man's  hands  it  amounts  to  a  great 
deal,  because  he  does  make  use  of  it,  and  makes  it 
do  a  great  deal  for  him.  The  nature  of  God  is  the 
same  to  all  men,  but  the  effects  are  not  the  same 
on  all  men ;  because  they  do  not  all  put  it  to  the 
same  uses.  — H.  W.  Beecher, 

3.  Unmerited. 

(2361.)  The  way  to  heaven  lies,  not  over  a  toll- 
bridge,  but  over  a  free-bridge  ;  even  the  unmerited 
grace  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus. 

Grace  finds  us  beggars,  and  always  leaves  us 
debtors.  — Toplady,  1740-1778. 

(2362.)  We  are  apt  to  suppose  that  God  is  such 
an  one  as  ourselves.  If  we  wish  to  enjoy  the 
patronage  of  a  great  man,  we  very  naturally  think 
we  must  say  or  do  something  that  mny  acquire  his 
esteem,  and  recommend  us  to  his  not'ce.  Thus 
would  we  also  treat  with  God;  when,  alas!  the 
plain  truth  is,  we  can  have,  and  say,  and  ao,  nothing 
that  He  approves,  until  He  Himself  give  it  of  llig 
free  grace,  and  work  it  in  us  by  His  Spirit. 

— Salter. 

4.  All-sufficient. 

(2363.)  The  heart  of  every  believer  is  like  a  vessel 

with  a  narrow  neck,  which,  being  cast  into  the  sea, 

is  not  filled  at  the  first  easily,  but  by  reason  of  the 

strait  passage  receive' n  water  drop  by  drop.     Thus 

I  God  giveth  unto  us  eve»  a  sea  of  mercy,  but  the 


COD. 


{    409    ) 


GOD. 


same  on  our  part  is  apprehended  and  received  by 
little  and  little  :  we  go  from  strength  to  strength, 
from  grace  to  grace,  and  from  one  degree  of  virtue 
to  another.  — ^'6^^,1560-1643. 

(2364.)  Go  and  ransacl<  thy  heart,  Christian,  from 
one  end  to  the  other,  find  out  thy  wants,  acquaint 
thyself  with  all  thy  weaknesses,  and  set  them  before 
the  Almighty,  astlie  widow  her  empty  vessels  before 
the  prophet  ;  hadst  thou  more  than  thou  canst 
bring   thou  mayst  have  them  all  filled. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2365.)  The  Gospel  supposeth  a  power  going 
along  with  it,  and  that  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  works 
upon  the  minds  of  men,  to  quicken,  and  excite,  and 
assist  them  in  their  duty.  And  if  it  were  not  so, 
the  exhortations  of  preachers  would  be  nothing 
else  but  a  cruel  and  bitter  mocking  of  sinners,  and 
an  ironical  insulting  over  the  misery  and  weakness 
of  poor  creatures  ;  and  for  ministers  to  preach,  or 
people  to  hear  sermons,  upon  other  terms,  would  be 
the  vainest  expense  of  time,  and  the  idlest  thing  we 
do  all  the  week  ;  and  all  our  dissuasives  from  sin, 
and  exhortations  to  holiness  and  a  good  life,  and 
vehement  persuasions  of  men  to  strive  to  get  to 
heaven  and  to  escape  hell,  would  be  just  as  ii  one 
should  urge  a  blind  man,  by  many  reasons  and  argu- 
ments, taken  from  the  advantages  of  sight  and  the 
comfort  oi  that  sense  and  the  beauty  of  external 
objects,  by  all  means  to  open  his  eyes,  and  to  be- 
hold the  delights  of  nature,  to  see  his  way  and  to 
look  to  his  steps,  and  should  upbraid  him,  and  be 
very  angry  with  him,  for  not  doing  so. 

—  Tt  Hot  son,  1 630- 1 694. 

(2366.)  There  is  in  God  not  only  a  sufficiency, 
but  a  redundancy  ;  He  is  not  only  full  as  a  vessel, 
but  as  a  spring.  Other  things  can  no  more  fill  the 
soul,  than  a  mariner's  breath  can  fill  the  sails  of  a 
ship  :  but  in  God  is  a  cornucopia,  an  infinite  ful- 
ness ;  He  hath  enough  to  fill  the  angels,  therefore 
enough  to  fill  us.  — lV<Usott,  1696. 

(2367.)  God  is  a  sun,  which,  though  but  one,  is 
sufficient  to  enlighten  and  vivify  a  whole  world. 
— Michel  le  Faucheur. 

(2368.)  The  moral  impotence  in  men  to  vanquish 
their  lusts,  tiiough  it  will  be  no  apology  at  the  day 
of  judgment,  will  discourage  them  from  making 
resistance  :  for  who  will  attempt  an  impossibility? 
Despair  relaxes  the  active  powers,  cuts  the  nerves 
of  our  endeavours,  and  blunts  the  edge  of  industry. 
'Tis  related  of  the  West  Indians,  that  upon  the  first 
incursion  of  the  Spaniards  into  their  country,  they 
tamely  yielded  to  their  tyranny  ;  for  seeing  them 
clad  in  armour  which  their  spears  could  not  pierce, 
they  fancied  them  to  be  the  children  of  the  sun,  in- 
vulnerable and  immortal.  But  an  Indian  carrying 
•  Spaniard  over  the  water,  resolved  to  try  whether 
he  were  mortal,  and  phinged  him  into  the  river  so 
loni;  that  he  was  drowned.  From  that  experiment 
they  took  courage,  and  resolved  to  kill  their  enemies, 
who  were  callable  of  dying,  and  recover  their  dear 
'jberty,  lost  by  such  a  foolish  conceit.  Thus  men 
will  languish  in  a  worse  servitude  if  they  fancy  the 
lusts  of  the  flesh,  their  intimate  enemies,  to  be  in- 
separable. Fear  congeals  the  spirits,  and  disables 
from  noble  enterprises,  which  hope  persuades,  and 
courage  executes.  Now  we  have  an  army  of  con- 
querors to  encourage  us  in  the  spiritual  war  with 


the  flesh,  the  world,  and  Satan,  enemies  '.n  coin< 
bination  against  us.  How  many  saints  have  pre- 
served themselves  unspotted  from  the  most  alluring 
temptations  !  They  were  not  statues,  without 
sensible  faculties,  they  were  not  without  a  conflict 
of  carnal  passions,  but  by  the  Holy  Spirit  subdued 
them  ;  and  though  some  obtained  a  clearer  victory 
than  others,  yet  all  were  victorious  by  divine  grace 

— Salur. 

(2369.)  It  is  equally  easy  for  God  to  supply  our 
greatest  as  our  smallest  wants,  to  carry  our  heaviest 
as  our  lightest  burden — ^just  as  it  is  as  easy  for  the 
great  ocean  to  bear  on  her  bosom  a  ship  of  war 
with  all  its  guns  and  crew  aboard,  as  a  fisherman's 
boat,  or  the  tiniest  craft  that  floats,  falling  and 
rising  on  her  swell.  — Guthrie. 

(2370.)  The  grace  of  God  is  marked  by  the  afflu- 
ence which  characterises  all  His  works.  What 
abundance  in  that  sun  which  has  shown  so  many 
thousand  years,  and  yet  presents  no  appearance  of 
exhaustion,  no  sign  of  decay  !  What  abundance  of 
stars  bespangle  the  sky  ;  of  leaves  clothe  the  forest ; 
of  raindrops  fall  in  the  shower  ;  of  dews  sparkle 
on  the  grass  ;  of  snow-flakes  within  the  winter  hills  ; 
of  flowers  adorn  the  meadow  ;  of  living  creatures 
that,  walking  on  the  ground,  or  playing  in  the  waters, 
or  burrowing  in  the  soil,  or  dancing  in  the  sun- 
beams, or  flying  in  the  air,  find  a  home  in  every 
element— but  that  red  fire  in  which,  type  of  hell, 
all  beauty  perishes  and  all  life  expires  ! 

This  lavish  profusion  of  life,  and  forms,  and 
beauty,  in  nature,  is  an  emblem  of  the  afiluence  of 
grace,  of  God's  saving,  sanctifying  grace.  In  Christ 
all  fulness  dwells.  We  are  complete  in  Him. 
There  is  in  His  blood  sufficient  virtue  to  discharge 
all  the  sins  of  a  guilty  world,  and  in  His  Spirit 
sufficient  power  to  cleanse  the  foulest  and  break  the 
hardest  heart.  Ye  are  not  straitened  in  me,  says 
God,  but  in  yourselves.  Try  me  herewith,  He 
says — ask,  seek,  knock  !  Who  does  will  find  that 
it  is  only  a  faint  image  of  the  plentitude  of  grace 
we  behold  in  that  palace-scene  where  the  king, 
looking  kindly  on  a  lovely  suppliant,  bends  from 
his  throne  to  extend  his  golden  sceptre,  and  says, 
"  What  is  thy  petition,  and  what  is  thy  request, 
Queen  Esther,  and  it  shall  be  given  thee  to  the  half 
of  my  kingdom  ?  "  —Guthrie. 

(2371.)  Men  do  not  avail  themselves  of  the  riches 
of  God's  grace.  They  love  to  nurse  their  cares,  and 
seem  as  uneasy  witiiout  some  fret,  as  an  old  friar 
would  be  without  his  hair  girdle.  They  are  com- 
manded to  cast  their  cares  upon  the  Lord  ;  but, 
even  when  they  attempt  it,  they  do  not  fail  to  catch 
them  up  again,  and  think  it  meritorious  to  walk 
burdened.  They  take  God's  ticket  to  heaven,  and 
then  put  their  baggage  on  their  shoulders,  and 
tramp,  tramp,  the  whole  way  there  afoot. 

—BeecUr. 

(2372.)  A  man  says  to  his  agent,  *'  I  want  you  to 
go  on  a  business  tour  for  me.  First  go  to  Buffalo, 
Here  is  the  money,  and  here  are  the  directions  that 
you  will  need  while  there.  Thence  go  to  Cleveland, 
and  there  you  will  find  remittances  and  further  direc- 
tions. When  you  get  to  Cincinnati  you  will  find  other 
remittances  and  other  directions.  At  St.  Louis  )'ou 
will  find  others;  and  at  New  Orleans  still  others." 
"But,"  says  the  agent,  "sujipose  when  I  get  to 
Cleveland,  or  any  of  the  other  places,  1  should  t]ot 


GOD. 


(    410     ) 


GOD. 


Snd  anything?"  He  is  so  afraid  that  he  will 
not,  that  he  asks  the  man  to  give  him  money  and 
directions  for  the  whole  tour  before  he  starts.  "  No," 
nays  the  man,  "it  will  be  sufficient  if  you  have  the 
nioney  and  directions  you  need  for  each  place  when 
you  get  to  it  :  and  when  you  do  get  to  it  you  will 
tind  them  there." 

Now  God  sends  us  in  the  same  way.  He  says, 
"  Here  is  your  duty  for  to-day,  and  the  means  with 
which  to  do  it.  To-morrow  you  will  find  remit- 
tances and  further  directions ;  next  week  you  will 
find  olher  remittances  and  other  directions;  next 
month  you  will  find  others ;  and  next  year  still 
others.  I  will  be  with  you  at  all  times,  and  will 
see  that  you  have  strength  for  every  emergency." 

— Beecher, 

(2373.)  Suppose  I  were  to  set  out  on  a  pilgrimage 
to  Jerusalem,  and  before  I  started,  were  to  go  to 
Brown  Brothers  &  Co. ,  and  obtain  letters  of  credit 
for  the  cities  of  London,  Jericho,  &c.  'I'hen,  with 
these  papers,  which  a  child  might  destroy,  which 
would  be  but  ashes  in  the  teeth  of  flame,  which  a 
thousand  chances  might  t;ike  from  me,  1  should  go 
on  with  confidence  and  cheer,  saying  to  mysill, 
"As  soon  as  I  come  to  London  I  shall  be  in  funds. 
I  have  a  letter  in  my  pocket  from  Brown  Brothers 
&  Co.  which  will  give  me  five  hundred  dollars 
there  ;  and  in  the  other  cities  to  which  I  am  bound 
I  shall  find  similar  supplies,  all  at  my  command, 
through  the  agency  of  these  magic  pajjcrs  and  pen 
strokes  of  these  enterprising  men."  But  suppose 
that,  instead  of  this  confidence,  I  were  to  sit  down 
on  shipboard,  and  go  to  tormenting  myself  in  this 
fashion — "Now,  what  am  I  to  do  when  I  get  to 
London  ?  I  have  no  money,  and  how  do  I  know 
that  these  bits  of  paper  which  1  have  witli  me  mean 
anything,  or  will  amount  to  anything  ?  What  shall 
I  do?  I  am  afraid  I  shall  starve  in  the  strange  city 
to  which  ]  am  going."  I  should  be  a  fool,  you 
say  ;  but  should  I  be  half  the  fool  that  that  man  is, 
who,  beariiig  the  letters  of  credit  of  the  Eternal  God, 
yet  goes  fearing  all  his  way,  cast  down  and  doubting 
whether  he  shall  ever  get  safe  through  his  journey  ? 
No  fire,  no  violence,  nor  any  chance,  can  destroy 
the  cheques  of  the  l>ord.  When  He  says,  "1  will 
never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee,"  and  "My 
grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  thee,"  believe  it  ;  and 
no  longer  dishonour  your  God  by  withholding  from 
Him  the  confidence  which  you  freely  accord  to 
Drown  Brothers  &  Co.  — Beecker. 

(2374.)  Many  people  are  afraid  to  embrace  re- 
ligion, for  fear  they  shall  not  succeed  in  maintain- 
ing it. 

Does  the  spring  say,  "  I  will  not  come  unless  I 
can  bring  all  fruits  and  sheaves  under  my  wings?" 
No.  She  casts  down  loving  glances  in  February,  and 
in  March  she  ventures  near  in  mild  days,  but  is  beaten 
back  and  overthrown  by  slorm  and  wind.  Yet  she 
returns,  and  finally  yields  the  earth  to  April,  far 
readier  for  life  than  she  found  it.  The  rains  are 
still  cold,  but  the  grass  is  growing  green,  and  the 
buds  aie  swelling.  In  May  the  air  is  yet  chilly, 
but  it  has  the  odour  of  flowers,  and  every  clay  grows 
warmer  till  the  delicious  June,  when  all  is  bloom 
Rnd  softness,  and  even  the  storms  have  nourishment 
in  them.  Then  come  the  glowing  July  and  the 
fervid  August,  followed  by  the  glorious  autumn  of 
harvest  and  victoiy  \ 

And  shall  nature  do  so  much,  while  we  dare  not 


attempt  to  overcome  the  coldness  and  deadness  of 
our  hearts,  and  to  fill  them  with  the  summer  of 
love  ? 

When  stars,  first  created,  start  forth  upon  their 
vast  circuits,  not  knowing  their  way,  if  they  were 
conscious  and  sentient,  they  might  feel  hopeless  of 
maintaining  their  revolutions  and  orbiis,  and  de- 
spair in  the  face  of  coming  a;^es.  But,  without 
hands  or  arms,  the  sun  holds  them.  Without  cords 
or  bands  the  solar  king  drives  them  unharnessed  on 
their  mighty  rounds  without  a  single  misstep,  and 
will  bring  them,  in  the  end,  to  their  bound  without 
a  wanderer.  Now,  if  the  sun  can  do  this — the  sun, 
which  is  but  a  thing  itself,  driven  and  held — shall 
not  He  who  created  the  heavens,  and  gave  the  sun 
his  power,  be  able  to  hold  ns  by  the  attraction  of 
His  lieart,  the  strengih  of  His  hands,  and  the  omni« 
potence  of  His  affectionate  will  ? 

5.  Is  the  source  of  all  spiritual  excellencieB. 

(2375.)  Day  and  night,  the  tides  are  rising  along 
our  shores,  filling  bay  and  estuary,  silently  for  the 
most  part,  yet  surely.  The  power  that  draws  them 
resides  afar  off  in  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  is  not 
seen  nor  noticed,  but  only  inferred.  All  the  good- 
ness of  men,  their  generous  impulses,  their  loves 
and  faiths  and  inspirations  of  purity,  their  zeal  and 
enthusiasm  in  self-denial  and  devotion — that  great 
human  tide  of  goodness  which  is  moving  in  upon 
the  human  heart — is  derived  from  God,  who,  afar 
ofl,  silent  as  the  moon  in  summer  nights,  is  drawing 
all  men  unto  Him.  — Beecker. 

6.  Its  transforming  power. 

(2376.)  In  nature  there  is  hardly  a  stone  that  if 
not  capable  of  crystallising  into  something  purer 
and  brighter  than  its  normal  state.  Coal,  by  a 
slightly  diflerent  arrangement  of  its  pai  tides,  is 
ca])able  of  becoming  the  radiant  diamond.  The 
slag  cast  out  from  the  furnace  as  useless  waste,  foims 
into  globular  masses  of  radiating  crystals.  From  tar 
and  pitch  the  loveliest  colours  are  now  manufactured. 
The  very  mud  of  the  road,  trampled  under  foot  as 
the  type  of  all  impurity,  can  be  changed  by  chemical 
art  into  metals  and  gems  of  surpassing  beauty.  And 
so  the  most  unpromising  materials,  f^rom  the  most 
worthless  moral  rubbish  that  men  cast  out  and 
despise,  may  be  converted  by  the  Divine  alchemy 
into  the  gold  of  the  sanctuary,  and  made  jewels  fit 
for  the  mediatorial  crown  of  the  Redeemer.  Let  the 
case  of  Mary  Magdalene,  of  John  Newton,  of  John 
Bunyan,  of  thousands  more,  encourage  those  who 
are  still  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  in  the  bond  of 
iniquity.  Seek  to  be  subjected  to  the  same  purify- 
ing process :  lay  yourselves  open  to  the  same 
spiritual  influences ;  yield  yourselves  up  into  the 
hands  of  the  Spirit  to  become  His  finished  and  ex- 
quisite workmanship.  Seek  diligently  a  saving  and 
sanctifying  union  with  Clirist  through  faith  ;  and 
He  will  perfect  that  which  concerntth  you,  and  lay 
your  stones  with  fair  colours.  "Though  ye  have 
lien  among  the  pots,  ye  shall  yet  be  as  the  wings 
of  a  dove,  covered  with  silver,  and  her  feathers  witli 
yellow  gold."  — AlacmiUan, 

1.  Inexhaustible. 

(2377.)  God  is  ever  giving  to  His  children,  yet 

hath  not  the  less  :  His  riches  are  imparted,  not  im- 
paired :  like  the  sun  that  still  shines,  yet  hath  not 
the  less  light  — IVaison,  1696. 


COD. 


'  (    411    ) 


COD. 


XXVI.  THE  EEST  AND  PORTION  OF  THE 
SOUL. 

(2378.)  As  he  that  walketh  in  the  sun  careth  not 

wheiher  the  moon  shine  or  no,  because  he  hath  no 

Dt-ed  of  her  li^lit  :  even  so,  when  a  man  hath  found 

the  heavenly  riches,  h<  careth  not  for  earthly  riches. 

— Cawdray,  1 609. 

(23"'9  )  The  favour  of  God  makes  a  little  estate 
gteat  riches,  every  slate  conleiiliui.  A  little  thing, 
given  as  a  token  of  the  kind's  goodwill,  do  we  not 
prize  it  more  than  thrice  the  value  of  that  which  is 
no  pledge  of  his  favour?  And  when  the  love  01  a 
sinful  man  is  of  such  force  that  many  a  woman, 
while  she  may  enjoy  it,  feels  not  beggary  itself  to  be 
grievous,  what  a  force  is  there  in  the  grace  of  God, 
while  it  is  peiceived,  to  make  us  find  no  grievance 
in  greatest  exiremity  !  Whereas  wiihout  this,  were 
a  man  in  a  paradise  of  the  earth,  with  all  the  good 
of  it,  all  were  nothing.  There  are  noblemen  in  the 
Tower  who  may  ride  their  great  horses,  have  their 
ladies,  fare  deliciously,  want  not  for  wealth,  yet  be- 
cause they  are  out  of  the  king's  favour,  no  wise  man 
would  be  in  their  coats,  none  esteem  their  state 
happy.  How  much  more,  then,  are  all  things  of  no 
value,  if  they  be  possessed  without  this  favour  of 
which  we  entreat?  This  grace  is  our  Hfe  ;  it  is 
better  than  life.  As  the  marigold  opens  when  the 
sun  shines  over  it,  and  shuts  when  it  is  withdrawn, 
so  our  life  follows  this  favour,  we  are  enlarged  if  we 
feel  it  ;  if  it  be  hidiien,  we  are  troubled.  Finally, 
that  which  the  king's  favourable  aspect  does  in  his 
subject,  that  which  the  sun  and  dew  do  in  the  crea- 
tures of  the  earth,  whicii  they  make  to  smile  in 
their  manner,  the  like  does  this  grace,  through  all 
the  world  of  spirits,  who  feel  the  influence  of  it. 

— Bayne,  1617. 

(2380.)  All  the  world  without  God's  favour  can- 
not make  a  man  hajjpy.  What  will  it  profit  us  if 
the  whole  world  smile  upon  us,  and  God  frown  and 
be  angry  with  us?  All  the  candle  in  the  world 
cannot  make  it  day,  nay  all  the  stars  shining  to- 
gether cannot  dispel  the  darkness  of  night  nor  make 
It  day,  unless  the  sun  shines  ;  so  whatever  comforts 
we  have  of  a  higher  or  lower  nature,  they  cannot 
make  it  day  with  a  gracious  heart,  unless  Uod's  face 
shine  upon  us,  for  irle  can  blast  all  in  an  instant. 
A  prisoner  is  never  the  more  secure,  though  his 
fellows  and  companions  applaud,  and  tell  him  his 
cause  is  good,  and  that  he  shall  escape,  when  he 
that  is  judge  condemns  him.  Though  we  have  the 
good  word  of  all  the  world,  yet  if  the  Lord  speak 
r.ot  peace  to  our  souls,  and  shine  not  upon 
our  consciences,  what  will  the  good  word  of  the 
world  do?  — Matiton,   1620-1667. 

(2381.)  A  man  that  is  hungry  finds  his  stomach 
still  craving.  Something  he  wants,  wiihout  which 
he  cannot  be  well.  Give  him  music,  company, 
pictures,  houses,  honours,  yet  there  follows  no 
satisfaction  (these  are  not  suitable  to  his  a])peiite), 
still  his  stomach  craves  ;  but  set  before  this  man 
some  wholesome  food,  and  let  him  eat,  and  his 
craving  is  over.  So  it  is  with  man's  soul  as  with 
his  body  ;  the  soul  is  full  of  cravings  and  longings, 
spending  itself  in  sallies  out  after  its  proper  food. 
Give  it  the  credit,  and  profits,  and  ple.isures  of  the 
world,  and  they  cannot  abate  its  desire  ;  it  craves 
still  (for  tii2«e  do  not  answer  the  soul's  nature, 
and    therefore   uaiinot    answer    its    necessity)  ;  but 


once  set  God  before  it,  and  it  feeding  on  Him,  it  is 
satisfied  ;  its  very  inordinate,  dogged  appetite  after 
the  world  is  now  cured.  He,  tasting  his  manna, 
tramples  on  the  onions  of  Egypt  :  "  He  that 
diinketh  of  this  water  shall  thirst  again,  but  he  that 
drinkelh  of  the  water  which  I  shall  give  him  shall 
never  thirst."  — Swiniiock,  1773. 

(2382.)  It  is  with  God  and  the  soul  as  between 
the  sun  and  the  earth.  In  tl;e  decline  of  the  year, 
when  the  sun  seems  to  draw  afar  off  from  us,  how 
dotii  the  earth  mourn  and  droop  ;  how  do  the  trees 
cast  off  the  ornament  of  their  leaves  and  fruits  ; 
how  doth  the  sap  of  all  plants  run  down  to  the 
roots,  leaving  the  bare  boughs  seemingly  sere  and 
dead  !  But,  at  the  nianifesiation  of  it  in  the  rising 
of  the  spring,  all  things  seem  revived  ;  the  earth 
decks  hersell  in  the  fiesh  habiliments  of  blossoms, 
leaves,  and  flowers,  to  entertain  those  comfortable 
heats  and  influences.  So,  and  no  mo;-e,  in  th. 
declining  and  approach  of  this  all-glorious  .Sun  of 
Righteousness;  in  His  presence  there  is  life  and 
blessedness,  in  His  absence  nothing  but  grief, 
disconsoiateness,  and  despair.  If  an  earthly  being 
do  but  withdraw  himself  Irom  us  for  a  time,  we  are 
troubled  ;  how  much  more  if  the  King  of  glory 
shall  absent  Himself  from  us  in  displeasure  ! 

— Salter. 

(2383.)  God  is  not  only  the  rewarder,  but  is 
Himself  the  reward  of  His  saints.  A  king  may 
enrich  his  subjects  with  gratuities  ;  but  he  bestows 
himself  upon  his  queen. 

(2384.)  As  bees  can  never  stay  upon  any  corrupt 
thing,  but  only  stop  among  the  flowers,  so  no 
creature  can  ever  satisfy  your  heart,  for  it  can  never 
rest  but  in  God  alone  ;  God  not  being  willing  that 
our  hearts  should  find  any  resting-place,  no  more 
than  the  dove  which  wewt  out  of  Noah's  ark,  to  the 
end  it  may  return  to  Himself  from  whom  it  pro- 
ceeded. — De  Sates. 

(2385.)  And  now  is  the  question  asked,  W^hy  is 
this  world  unsatisfying?  Brethren,  it  is  thf 
grandeur  of  the  soul  which  God  has  given  us, 
which  makes  it  insatiable  in  its  desires — with  an 
infinite  void  which  cannot  be  filled  up.  A  soul 
which  was  made  for  God,  how  can  the  world  fill 
it  ?  If  the  ocean  can  be  still  with  miles  of  unstable 
waters  beneath  it,  then,  the  soul  of  man,  rocking 
itself  upon  its  own  deep  longings,  with  the  Infinite 
beneath  it,  may  rest.  We  were  created  once  in 
majesty,  to  find  enjoyment  in  God,  and  if  our 
hearts  are  empty  now,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to 
fill  up  the  holiowness  of  the  soul  with  God. 

Let  not  that  ex])ression — filling  the  soul  with 
God — pass  away  wiihout  a  distinct  meaning.  God 
is  love  and  goodness.  Fill  the  soul  with  goodness, 
and  fill  the  soul  with  love,  t/ia/  is  the  filling  it  with 
God.  II  we  love  one  another,  God  dwelleth  in  us. 
There  is  nothing  else  that  can  satisfy. 

—A.    IV.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(2386.)  The  objects  of  human  desire  and  ambi- 
tion are  very  fair,  and  at  a  distance  promise  very 
well  to  him  whf)  can  come  up  with  them.  But  the 
pursuit  of  them  (and  the  whole  natural  life  of  man 
is  one  long  pursuit)  is  like  the  countryman's  chase 
after  the  rainbow.  He  thought  that  one  limb  of  the 
bright  arch  rested  in  the  field  close  to  him,  but 
when  he  had  cleared  the  hed^e,  and  come  up  to 


GOD. 


(    412    ) 


GOOD  WORKS. 


the  spot  on  which  it  seemed  to  rest,  the  rainbow 
had  adjourned  into  another  field,  liven  so  these 
various  earthly  objects  of  desire  or  ambition,  one 
after  another  disappoint  those  who  attain  them  ; 
their  prismatic  colours  all  vanish  when  we  come  up 
close  to  them,  they  are  found  to  have  their  anxieties 
and  their  troubles  (not  the  least  of  which  is  the 
precarious  tenure  of  them),  and  some  new  rainbow  is 
seen  ahead,  two  or  three  fields  off,  to  lure  us  into  a 
pursuit  which  turns  out  to  be  as  fruitless  as  the 
former.  Must  it  ever  be  so?  Is  there  no  really 
satisfactory  object  in  which  the  soul  of  man  may 
find  a  full  and  perfect  contentment  ?  assuredly  there 
is.  Our  Creator  does  not  mock  and  baffle  us  by 
implanting  strong  instincts  in  our  nature,  and  great 
yearnings  after  happiness,  which  have  nothing  cor- 
responding to  them.  In  the  knowledge  of  God,  in 
the  apjireciation  of  God,  in  the  enjoyment  of  God, 
in  communion  with  God,  but  in  nothing  short  of 
this,  man  can  find  rest.  — Gonlburn. 

(2387.)  As  when  I  hunger,  my  hunger  says  that 
there  is  food  ;  as  when  my  eye  was  made,  that  eye 
said  that  there  was  light  to  match  it  and  to  meet  it  ; 
90  in  the  higher  realms  of  experience,  I  do  know 
that  certain  struggles  and  yearnings,  certain  mute 
wants,  certain  indefinite  and  indescribable  experi- 
ences, all  point  to  something  higher  than  I  am. 

What  is  it  that  the  vine  seeks,  day  by  day,  strug- 
gling through  the  leaves,  and  twining  itself  upon 
whatever  conies  in  its  way?  Is  it  support?  It 
would  be  just  as  well  supported  if  it  lay  on  the 
ground.  Why  does  the  vine  go  still  twining  up? 
It  is  because  it  is  in  love  with  the  light.  Why  is  it 
that  men's  souls  twine,  and  rise,  and  aspire  ?  Is  it 
instinct?  What  is  instinct  but  this:  that  there  is 
something  in  the  nature  of  the  soul  which  reaches  out 
after  a  stimulus  which  it  feels,  as  the  plant  grows 
toward  the  light  which  looks  upon  it  and  stimulates 
it?  As  everything  in  the  vegetable  kingdom 
reaches  toward  the  sun,  so  the  soul  reaches  toward 
God.  He  yearns  for  us,  and  we  reach  out  toward 
Him.  — Beecher. 

XXVri.    HIS  INDWELLING  IN  THE  SOUL. 

(2388.)  We  would  be  receptacles  of  Thine  in- 
fluence. As  the  sun  shines  in  the  dewdrop  according 
to  its  measure,  so  shine  in  us.  Fill  the  whole  of  our 
little  orbs  with  Thy  presence,  so  that  Thy  life  shall 
augment  ours,  and  sustain  it.  — Beecher. 

(2389.)  To  creatures  made  in  God's  image,  and 
renewed  in  God's  image,  God  Himself  must  ever  be 
the  standard  of  completeness.  Between  God  and 
all  His  creatures  there  is,  we  reverently  acknow- 
ledge, a  vast  difference  ;  but  the  pitcher  may  be  full 
as  well  as  the  river,  and  the  hand  may  be  full  as 
well  as  the  storehouse.  There  is  a  fulness  which  is 
as  really  the  attribute  of  that  which  in  capacity  is 
small,  as  of  that  which  in  capacity  is  infinite.  The 
sweet  little  flower  "forget-me-not,"  is  as  full  of 
colour  as  the  bright  blue  sky  over  its  tiny  head. 
The  vine  of  the  cottager  may  be  as  full  of  fruit  as 
the  vineyard  of  the  wealthy  vine-grower.  The 
baby,  which  smiles  on  its  mother's  breast,  may  be 
as  full  of  joy  as  the  seraph  before  the  throne 
The  vast  difference  which  exists  between  God's 
nature  and  ours,  does  not  prevent  that  nature  in 
some  respects  being  a  standard.  The  fulness  of 
man  may  be  as  the  fulness  of  God.  God  is  full, 
and  man  in  his  capacity,  may  be  full  as  God. 

— S".  A/arein. 


XXVIII.     THE  EVER-FAITHFUL  FRIEND. 

(2390.)  It  is  the  saying  of  Euripides,  that  a  faith- 
ful friend  in  adversity  is  better  than  a  calm  sea  to 
a  weather-beaten  mariner.  Indeed,  the  world  is  full 
of  false  lovers,  who  use  their  friends  as  we  do  candles, 
burn  them  to  the  snuff,  and  when  all  their  substance 
is  wasted,  trample  them  under  their  feet,  and  light 
others  ;  but  God  to  His  cliosen  is  as  the  ivy  clasp- 
ing about  a  wall,  which  will  as  soon  die  as  desert  it. 
Extremity  doth  but  fasten  a  trusty  friend  ;  whilst 
he,  as  a  well-wrought  vault,  is  the  stronger  by  how 
much  more  weight  he  beareth.  Though  many  men 
are  as  ponds,  dry  in  the  heat  of  summer,  when  there 
is  most  need  of  them,  yet  the  blessed  God  dealeth 
not  so  with  His  saints;  but  His  help  is  nearest 
when  their  hardships  are  greatest.  When  they 
walk  in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  He  is 
with  them.  — Swinnock,  1673. 


GOOD  WORKS. 

1.  Can  be  performed  by  none  'but  good  men. 

(2391.)  All  our  works  before  repentance  are  dead 
works  (Heb.  vi.  i).  And  these  works  have  no  true 
beauty  in  them,  with  whatsoever  gloss  they  may 
appear  lo  a  natural  eye.  A  dead  body  may  have 
something  of  the  features  and  beauty  of  a  living,  but 
it  is  but  the  beauty  of  a  carcase,  not  of  a  man.  A 
statue,  by  the  stone-cutter's  art,  and  the  painter's 
skill,  may  be  made  very  comely,  yet  it  is  but  a 
statue  still  ;  where  is  the  life?  Such  services  are 
but  the  works  of  art,  as  flowers  painted  on  the  wall 
with  curious  colours,  but  where  is  the  vegetative 
principle  ?  Since  man,  therefore,  is  spiritually  dead, 
he  cannot  perform  a  living  service.  As  a  natural 
death  does  incapacitate  lor  natural  actions,  so  a 
spiritual  death  must  incapacitate  for  spiritual  actions. 
— Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

2.  In  what  sense  any  man's  works  can  be  said  to 
be  g-ood. 

(2392.)  When  we  mingle  water  with  wine  in  a  cup, 
that  which  is  poured  out  from  it  is  called  wine  though 
water  be  mingled  with  it  ;  and  albeit  there  be  more 
water  than  wine,  yet  that  which  is  the  principal  and 
most  precious  part  of  all  beareth  the  name  :  even 
so  the  good  works  which  we  do  by  the  grace  of 
God,  be  it  that  they  have  a  great  many  spots  and 
imperfections  as  they  proceed  from  us,  yet  for  all 
that  they  hold  always  the  name  and  reputation  of 
Him  who  is  the  principal  Author. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

8.  Are  required  of  all  who  profess  to  be  Christ's. 

(2393.)  Of  such  as  have  His  special  love,  He 
looks  for  obedience  and  honour,  wherein  is  there 
thankfulness.  The  courtier  that  is  advanced  above 
otliers  ought  to  be  more  res]5ective  of  the  prince  and 
his  will,  and  with  more  care  and  cheerfulness  per- 
form all  obedience  and  the  duty  of  his  place  than 
others.  He  that  hath  his  life,  liberty,  and  living 
given  unto  him  when  all  was  lost,  if  he  should  not 
respect  him,  every  tongue  should  be  ready  to  con- 
demn him.  But  if  he  should  be  made  heir  to  the 
crown,  if  his  issue  fail,  or  he  have  no  child,  then 
more.  So  in  this,  and  this  not  being,  nothing  will 
more  prove  that  they  are  not  that  they  would  seem 
lo  be,  and  that  they  have  not  that  they  i^raL;  on. 


GOOD  WORKS. 


(    413    ) 


GOOD  WORKS. 


(2394.)  Howsoever  God  may  endure  barrenness 
out  of  the  Church,  in  want  of  means,  yet  He  will 
never  endure  it  under  means.  It  is  better  for  a 
bramble  to  be  in  the  wilderness  than  in  an  orchard  ; 
for  a  weed  to  be  abroad,  than  in  a  garden,  where  it  is 
sure  to  be  weeded  out,  as  the  other  to  be  cut  down. 
If  a  man  will  be  unprofitable,  let  him  be  unprofit- 
able out  of  the  Church.  But  to  be  so  where  he  has 
the  dew  of  grace  falling  on  him,  in  the  means  of 
salvation,  where  are  all  God's  sweet  favours,  to  be 
a  bramble  in  the  orchard,  to  be  a  weed  in  the  gar- 
den, to  be  noisome  in  a  place  where  we  should  be 
fruitful,  will  God,  the  great  husbandman,  endure 
this?  Whatsoever  is  not  for  fruit  is  for  the  fire 
(Matt.  iii.  lo).  — Sibbes^  > 577-1635, 

(2395.)  The  husbandman,  the  more  he  improves 
his  ground  the  greater  crop  he  looks  for  ;  the  more 
comjiletely  the  soldier  is  armed,  the  better  service  is 
required  of  him  ;  the  scholar  that  is  well  instructed 
must  show  great  fruits  of  his  proficiency.  Thus 
the  earthly  part  of  man  drinks  in  the  sweet  showers 
of  grace  that  fall  upon  it.  The  blessed  Spirit  of  God 
puts  upon  us  that  panoply,  the  whole  armour  of 
God.  And  the  same  Spirit  teacheth  us  all  things, 
leads  us  into  all  truth,  and  brings  all  things  to  our 
remembrance  which  Christ  hath  spoken  for  our 
good.  Shall  we  then,  being  thus  cultivated,  thus 
armed,  thus  instructed,  not  bring  forth  fruits  in 
some  measure  answerable  to  so  great  indulgence? 
Shall  such  blessings  of  God  be  received  in  vain  ? 

—  T.  Staple  ton. 

(2396.)  You  make  a  grand  mistake  if,  because 
you  are  warned  not  to  trust  in  your  good  works,  you 
grow  less  diligent  in  doing  them. 

If  a  skilful  architect,  observing  you  expending 
your  summer  days  and  your  manhood's  strength 
in  an  effort  to  build  a  house  upon  the  sand,  should 
benevolently  warn  you  that  the  labour  would  be  lab- 
our lost,  you  would  poorly  profit  by  his  counsel  if  you 
should  simply  desist  from  the  work  and  loiter  idle 
near  the  spot.  The  architect,  your  friend,  did  not 
object  to  the  expenditure  of  your  time  and  strength 
in  building,  but  he  saw  that  the  higher  your  wall 
should  rise  on  that  foundation,  the  more  certain  and 
more  destructive  would  be  its  fall.  He  meant  that 
you  should  find  the  solid  rock,  and  build  there — 
build  with  all  your  might. 

The  Gospel  rejects  good  works,  not  as  the  fruit 
of  faith,  but  as  the  meritorious  ground  of  hope 
before  God.  The  place  of  man's  works  in  the 
Christian  system  decisively  affects  their  nature.  Al- 
though in  form  they  may  be  good,  if  they  are  made 
the  foundation  of  the  doer's  hope,  they  are  dead, 
and  therefore  loathsome  to  the  living.  They  are  the 
offerings  which  guilt  makes  under  the  pressure  of 
fear  to  the  God  whom  the  conscience  dislikes  be- 
cause of  His  holiness.  Those  who  work  thus  are 
workers  of  iniquity,  although  they  give  all  their 
goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  their  bodies  to  be  burned 
to  boot.  But  when  we  labour  to  keep  good  works 
out  of  the  wrong  place,  we  do  not  disparage  them 
in  the  right  place.  Beneaih  a  sinner  as  the  material 
of  his  confidence,  they  are  not  only  useless  but 
ruinous  ;  in  the  life  of  a  believer  they  are  natural 
and  necessary.  Life  does  not  spring  trom  them, 
but  they  spring  from  life.  As  ciphers  added  one 
by  one  in  an  endless  row  to  the  left  hand  of  a  unit 
tre  of  no  value,  but  on  the  right  hand  rapidly 
multiply  its  power  ;  so,  although  good  works  are  of 


no  avail  to  make  a  man  a  Christian,  yet  a  Christian't 
good  works  are  both  pleasing  to  God  and  profit- 
able to  men.  — Aritot. 

(2397.)  I  ask  you  to  remember,  at  home,  in  the 
shop,  and  in  the  counting-house,  that  you  are  epistles 
of  Christ  ;  and  that  in  your  spirit,  habits,  and 
character.  His  very  thoughts  are  to  be  translated 
into  forms  which  common  men  can  read  and  under- 
stand. You  would  condemn  with  heaviest  censure 
the  presumptuous  hand  which  wilfully  corrupted 
the  text  of  the  printed  book  in  which  the  acts  and 
thoughts  of  God  are  preserved  for  the  instruction  of 
the  world  ;  you  would  condemn  with  censure 
hardly  less  severe  the  carelessness  which  should 
omit  chapter  after  chapter,  and  give  false  readings 
instead  of  true.  But  yon  are  the  living  revelation 
of  God  to  mankind.  Through  you  it  is  meant  that 
the  Holy  Ghost  should  speak,  not  in  mere  words, 
but  in  acts,  which  are  more  intelligible  and  em- 
phatic than  words.  The  very  life  of  the  Spirit  o( 
God  is  intended  to  be  manifested  in  your  conduct, 
as  the  life  of  a  plant  is  manifested  in  the  flower,  and 
the  life  of  a  tree  in  the  fruit.  Are  you  giving  a 
true  revelation  to  mankind,  or  are  you  perverting, 
corrupting,  falsifying  it? 

Your  religious  emotions  irreligious  men  can  know 
nothing  of,  but  your  virtues  and  vices  are  a  lan- 
guage plain  and  familiar  to  them  as  their  mother 
tongue.  They  can  read  these  without  note  or 
comment.  They  can  judge  of  the  divine  inspiration 
of  these,  without  any  argument  from  miracles.  As 
the  style  of  a  great  artisi  is  recognised  in  the  draw- 
ing and  colouring  of  his  pictures  ;  as  the  genius  of 
Mozart  or  Beethoven  may  be  known  at  once  by  the 
movement  of  the  melody  and  the  flowing  sweetness 
or  mysterious  complexity  of  the  chorus,  so — if  you 
are  really  God's  workmanship — there  ought  to  be 
the  manifested  impress  of  the  divine  hand  in  your 
character,  and  to  those  who  know  you  well,  your 
life  ought  to  be  plainly  the  revelation  of  a  divine 
idea.  —R.  IV.  Dale. 

4.  Ttielr  relation  to  faith. 

(2398.)  Works  without  faith  are  like  a  fish  with* 
out  water  ;  in  which,  though  there  may  seem  to  be 
some  quick  actions  of  life  and  symptoms  of  agility, 
yet  they  are,  indeed,  but  forerunners  of  their  end, 
and  the  very  presages  of  death. 

Faith,  again,  without  works,  is  like  a  bird  with- 
out wings  ;  who,  though  she  may  hop  with  her 
companions  here  on  earth,  yet,  if  she  ilve  till  the 
world  ends,  she  will  never  fly  to  heaven. 

But  when  both  are  joined  together,  then  doth 
the  soul  mount  up  to  the  hill  of  eternal  rest ;  these 
can  bravely  raise  her  to  her  first  height  ;  yea, 
carry  her  beyond  it  ;  taking  away  both  the  will 
that  did  betray  her,  and  the  possibility  that  might. 
The  former,  without  the  latter,  is  self-cozenage  ;  the 
last  without  the  former  is  mere  hypocrisy  ;  to- 
gether, the  excellency  of  religion.  Faith  is  the 
rock,  while  every  good  action  is  as  a  stone  laid '; 
one  the  foundation,  the  other  the  structure.  The 
foundation  without  the  walls  is  of  slender  value  ; 
the  building  without  a  basis  cannot  stand.  They 
are  so  mseparable,  as  their  conjunction  makes  them 
good.  Chiefly  will  I  l.^ibour  for  a  future  foundation, 
saving  faith  ;  and  equally  will  1  seek  for  strong 
walls,  good  works.  For  a  man  judges  the  house  by 
the  edifice  more  than  by  the  foundation  ;  so,  not 
according  to  his  faith,  but  according  to  his  worksi 
shall  God  judge  man.  — Ff'Mham,  1668, 


GOOD  WORKS. 


(    4r4    ) 


GOOD  WORKS. 


(23990  Eternal  bliss  is  not  immediately  super- 
Structed  on  the  most  orthodox  beliefs  ;  l)ut,  as  our 
Saviour  saith,  "  If  ye  l<now  these  things,  happy 
are  ye  if  ye  do  them  ;  "  the  doing  must  be  first 
superstructed  on  the  knowing  or  believing,  before 
any  happiness  can  be  built  on  it. 

— Hammond,  1605-1666. 

(2400.)  The  bark  which  covers  the  tree,  seems 
to  be  of  little  worth  compared  with  the  body  of  the 
tree;  yet  if  that  be  peeled  off,  the  tree  dies. 
Though  righteous  dealings  seem  to  be  but  the  bark 
and  outside  of  thy  religion,  yet  if  once  thou  easiest 
them  off,  thy  religion,  as  thriving  as  thou  thoughtest 
it  to  be,  will  quickly  wither  and  come  to  nothing. 
The  heart-blood  of  ihy  godliness  may  be  let  out  by 
a  wound  in  thy  hand.  — Sivinnock,  1673. 

(2401.)  True  faith  is  of  a  working,  stirring 
nature  ;  without  good  works  it  is  dead  or  dying. 
'Tis  kept  in  plight  and  heart  by  a  holy  life,  as  the 
flesh  which  plaisters  over  the  frame  of  man's  body, 
though  it  receive  his  heat  from  the  vitals  within, 
yet  helps  to  preserve  the  very  life  of  those  vitals  : 
tnus  good  works  and  gracious  actions  have  their 
life  Irom  faith,  yet  are  necessary  helps  to  preserve 
the  life  of  faith  ;  thus  we  see  sometimes  the  child 
nursing  the  parent  that  bare  it,  and  therein  per- 
forms but  his  duty.  —  Gurttall,  1617-1679. 

(2402  )  It  is  as  impossible  that  a  spiritual  life 
should  be  without  acts  consonant  to  it,  as  that  the 
sun  should  appear  in  the  firmament  without  darting 
out  its  beams.  All  life  is  accompanied  with  natural 
heat,  which  is  the  band  of  it,  whereby  the  body  is 
enabled  to  a  vigorous  motion.  The  new  creature  is 
not  a  marble  statue  or  a  transparent  piece  of  crystal, 
which  has  purity  but  not  life.  It  is  a  living  spirit, 
and  there:ore  active.         — Charnock,   1628-1680. 

(2403.)  "A  renewed  man  whose  seed  is  within 
himself  brings  forth  fruit  after  his  kind,  as  well  as 
the  herbs  and  the  trees."  (Gen.  i.  12.)  All  living 
creatures  move  agreeably  to  their  natures,  with  a 
spontaneity  and  freedom  of  nature.  The  bramble 
does  not  more  naturally  bring  forth  thorns,  than  a 
habit  of  sin  does  steam  out  sinful  actions  ;  nor  a 
fountain  more  freely  bubble  up  its  water,  than  a 
habit  of  grace  springs  up  in  holy  actions. 

—  Charnock,  1 628- 1 680. 

(2404.)  We  cannot  perform  any  good  works,  un- 
less we  are  created  unto  them  in  Christ  Jesus;  and 
hence  that  creation  in  Christ  Jesus  cannot  be  any- 
wise the  effect  or  consequence  of  our  good  works  ; 
we  were  saved,  as  the  apostles  tell  us,  by  grace,  when 
we  were  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.  But  if  we  are 
indeed  created  anew  in  Christ  Jesus,  our  good  works 
must  follow,  as  a  necessary,  certain,  irrepressible 
result.  They  are  the  only  evidence  of  that  creation 
to  others ;  and  they  are  no  less  indispensable  to 
ourselves,  to  certify  us  of  its  reality.  If  we  do  not 
bring  forth  good  works,  we  ought  to  be  convinced 
that  we  cannot  have  been  created  anew  in  Christ 
)esus,  that  in  one  way  or  other  the  process  of  our 
regeneration  has  been  marred.  Good  works  are  the 
mark,  the  proof,  the  evidence  of  Christian  life  ;  they 
are  the  badge  of  a  Chi  istian  community  ;  and  they 
are  the  means  through  which  the  members  of  that 
community  are  bound  together,  and  the  Christian 
life  is  brought  to  pervade  them  all.  When  they  are 
scanty,  the  Christian  life  must  be  feeble ;  when  tbcy 


are  totally  wanting,  whether  in  an  individual  or  a 
community,  the  Christian  life  must  be  all  but  extinct. 
They  are  the  evidences  of  the  Christian  life  ;  and 
they  are  also  the  means  of  growing  in  it  ;  for  it  is 
by  exercise,  by  action,  that  every  living  prmciple  is 
strengthened.  Tliis  is  no  way  at  variance  with  the 
assertion  tliat  the  Christian  life  is  not  the  effect  cf 
our  good  works.  The  primary  creative  cause  is,  in 
all  instances  except  the  highest,  distinct  from  the 
highest  nutritive  causes.  The  bread  which  feeds 
will  not  beget  a  man.  By  study  we  do  not  acquire 
the  power  of  knowing  ;  but  we  improve  and  increase 
that  power,  and  may  do  so  almost  indefinitely.  By 
practising  any  art — be  it  music,  or  painting,  or 
statuary — we  do  not  acquire  that  particular  faculty 
of  the  mind  which  fits  a  man  for  becoming  a 
musician,  or  a  painter,  or  a  sculptor,  any  more  than 
we  acquire  our  eyes  by  seeing  :  indeed  if  a  man 
has  not  that  faculty  already  witliin  him,  no  teaching 
or  practising  will  draw  it  out  of  him  ;  but  when  he 
has  it,  practice  will  greatly  sharpen  and  better  it. 
Such,  too,  is  the  case  with  the  Christian  life.  It  is 
not  created  by  our  good  works,  but  it  is  to  be 
fostered  and  nourished  by  them,  and  may  be  so  to  a 
wonderful  extent,  if  we  always  bear  in  mind  how  it 
originated,  and  are  careful  to  have  it  replenish  from 
its  only  source ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  without 
them  it  will  pine  and  die.  Indeeti  in  this  instance 
we  have  the  special  assurance  :  And  to  him  who  hath 
shall  be  given  ;  and  from  him  who  hath  not  shall 
be  taken  away  even  what  he  hath.  — Hare. 

5.  Their  relation  to  salvation. 

(2405.)  As  the  apple  is  not  the  cause  of  the  apple- 
tree,  but  a  fruit  of  it  :  even  so  good  works  are  not 
the  cause  of  our  salvation,  but  a  sign  and  a  fruit  of 
the  same.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(2406.)  "Over  a  few  things  .  .  .  many  things." 
One  reason  against  all  merit  in  our  good  works  is 
this  :  there  is  no  just  proportion  between  our  works 
of  righteousness  and  the  reward  of  them.  Our  good 
works  are  but  a  few  seeds,  but  the  reward  is  a 
harvest.  — Bishop  Bull,  1634-1710. 

(2407.)  If  we  are  saved  and  justified  entirely  by  a 
righteousness  imputed,  to  what  purpose  are  those 
good  works  which  the  Bible  everywhere  inculcates? 
I  answer,  that  as  robes  and  a  coronet  do  not  consti- 
tute a  peer,  but  are  ensigns  and  appendages  of  his 
peerage  (for  the  will  of  the  sovereign  is  the  grand 
efficient  cause  which  elevates  a  commoner  to  nuble 
rank)  ;  and  as  the  very  patent  of  creation  is  only 
an  authentic  manifesto,  not  causal,  but  declarative, 
of  the  king's  pleasure  to  make  his  subject  a  noble- 
man ;  just  so,  good  works  do  not  make  us  alive  to 
God,  nor  justily  us  before  Him,  nor  exalt  us  to  the 
dignity  and  felicity  of  celestial  peerage  ;  they  are 
but  the  robes,  the  coronet,  and  the  manifesto, 
shining  in  our  lives  and  conversations  ;  and  making 
evident  to  all  around  us  that  we  are  indeed  and  in 
truth  chosen  to  salvation,  justified  through  Christ, 
and  renewed  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

—  Toplady,  1740-1778. 

(2408.)  He  that  for  giving  a  draught  of  water  to 
a  thirsty  person  should  expect  to  be  paid  with  a 
good  plantation,  would  be  modest  in  his  demands 
compared  with  those  who  think  they  deserve 
heaven  for  the  little  good  they  do  on  earth. 

— Franklin, 


GOOD  V/ORKS. 


(    415     ) 


GOOD  WORKS. 


(2409.)  There  can  be  no  doubt  at  all  that  salva- 
tion is  by  faith,  and  that  its  being  by  faith  is  one  of 
those  special  circumstances  which  make  the  Gospel 
a  new  covenant ;  but  .still  it  may  be  by  works  also  ; 
for,  to  use  a  familiar  illustration,  obedience  is  the 
road  to  heaven,  and  faith  the  gate.  Those  who 
attempt  to  be  saved  simply  without  works,  are  like 
persons  who  should  attempt  to  travel  to  a  place  not 
along  the  road,  but  across  the  fields.  If  we  wish 
to  get  to  our  journey's  end,  we  sliall  keep  to  the 
road  ;  but  even  then  we  may  go  the  wrong  road. 
This  was  the  case  with  the  Jews.  They  professed 
to  go  along  the  road  df  works,  they  did  not  wander 
into  the  fields,  so  far  well ;  but  they  took  the  wrong 
road.  That  particular  road  of  which  faith  is  the 
gate,  that  particular  obedience,  those  particular 
works,  which  commence  in  faith,  these  are  the  only 
right  and  sure  road  to  heaven.  It  is  wrong  to 
leave  the  road  for  the  open  country  ;  again,  it  is 
wrong  to  go  along  the  wrong  road  ;  but  it  is  not 
■wrong  to  go  along  the  right  road  !  And  in  like 
manner  it  is  sinful  to  attempt  no  obedience  what- 
ever ;  it  is  blind  perversity  to  attempt  obedience  by 
the  Jewish  law  of  nature  ;  but  it  is  not  sinful,  it  is 
not  perverse,  it  is  nothing  else  than  wisdom,  no- 
thing else  than  true  godliness,  to  follow  after  that 
obedience  which  is  of  faith. 

The  illustration  may  be  pursued  further.  A  road 
may  want  repairing,  it  may  get  worse  and  worse  as 
we  go  on  till  it  ceases  to  be  a  road  ;  it  may  fall  off 
from  a  road  into  a  lane,  from  a  lane  to  a  path,  or  a 
wild  heath,  or  a  marsh  ;  or  it  may  be  cut  off  by 
high  impassable  mountains,  so  that  a  person  who 
attempts  that  way  will  never  arrive  at  his  journey's 
end.  This  was  the  case  with  the  works  of  the  law 
by  which  the  Jews  thought  to  gain  heaven, — this  is 
the  case  with  all  works  done  in  our  natural 
strength  ;  they  are  like  a  road  over  fens  or  preci- 
pices, which  is  sure  to  fail  us.  At  first  we  might 
seem  to  go  on  well,  but  we  should  find  at  length 
that  we  made  no  progress.  We  should  never  get  to 
our  journey's  end.  Our  best  obedience  in  our  own 
strength  is  worth  nothing  ;  it  is  altogether  unsound, 
it  is  ever-failing,  it  never  grows  firmer,  it  never  can 
be  reckoned  on,  it  does  nothing  well,  it  has  nothing 
in  it  pleasing  or  acceptable  to  God  ;  and  not  only 
so,  it  is  the  obedience  of  souls  born  and  living 
under  God's  wrath,  for  a  state  of  nature  is  a  state  of 
wrath.  On  the  other  hand,  obedience  which  is 
done  in  faith  is  done  with  the  aid  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  ;  it  is  holy  and  acceptable  in  God's  sight  ;  it 
grows  habitual  and  consistent,  it  tentis  to  possess 
tlie  soul  wholly,  and  it  leads  straight  onward  to 
beaven.  — Newman. 

6.  Are  the  life  of  devotion. 

(2410.)  All  devotional  feelings  require  sacrificial 
expression.  There  is  "a  sacrifice  of  the  lips,"  and 
there  is  also  a  sacrifice  of  an  offering  which  involves 
expense  and  suffering.  The  first,  being  the  readiest 
At  command,  is  that  most  usually  given  ;  and,  being 
given,  it  unfortunately  prevents  the  other,  because, 
first  of  all,  costing  little,  words  are  given  prodigally, 
»nd  sacrificial  acts  must  toil  for  years  tocoverthespace 
which  a  single  fervid  promise  has  stretched  itself 
>ver.  No  wonder  that  the  slow  acts  are  superseded 
oy  the  available  words,  the  weighty  bullion  by  the 
;urrent  papev-money  If  I  have  conveyed  all  I  feel 
oy  language,  1  am  tempted  to  fancy,  by  the  relief 
experienced,  that  the  feeling  has  attained  its  end 
Mid  realised  itself.     Fa  ewel),  then,   to  the  toil  of 


"daily  sacrifice  I"     Devotion  has  found  for  itsflf  a 
vent  in  word.s. 

Now  there  seems  to  me  to  be  a  great  difTerenc* 
in  the  effects  produced  by  these  two  kinds  of  sacri- 
ficial expression.  That  by  worils  is  simply  relief -- 
necessary,  blessed — without  which  smothered  feeling 
would  be  torture — sometimes,  in  some  minds,  mad- 
ness. But,  being  only  relief,  it  does  not  strengthen  the 
feeling,  except  so  far  as  it  prevents  morbidness.  It 
rather  weakens  it,  by  getting  rid  of  the  painfulness. 
It  is  a  safety-valve  ;  but  the  danger  is  that  so  much 
force  should  escape  by  an  impetuous  rush  through 
this — that  there  should  be  little  left  to  bring  higher 
energies  into  action.  For  this  reason  I  rejoice,  even 
though  made  restless,  when  my  words  cannot  be 
commensurate  with  emotions.  The  other  kind  of 
expression,  on  the  contrary — the  sacrifice  of  acts — 
is  not  only  a  relief,  but  a  strength  to  feeling.  You 
condense  your  floating  vogue  desires  in  something 
that  does  not  disperse  into  thin  air.  There  it  is, 
visible — done  ;  one  of  the  facts  of  life  ;  part  of  your 
history,  credit  realised  in  gold  ;  a  pledge  for  the 
future,  for  this  reason,  that  if  your  feelings  should 
alter  afterwards,  all  those  acts  which  have  cost  so 
much  are  thrown  away,  and  become  so  much  time, 
suffering  and  expense  lost  for  ever.  You  guard  the 
feeling  for  the  sake  of  not  losing  all  this. 

— F.  IV.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

7.  Are  not  to  be  boasted  of. 

(241 1.)  If  the  king  freely,  without  desert  of  mine, 
and  at  the  mediation  of  another,  give  me  a  place 
about  him,  and  never  so  much  right  unto  it,  yet  I 
am  bound,  if  I  will  enjoy  it,  to  come  unto  him  and 
do  the  things  that  the  place  requireth.  And  if  he 
give  me  a  tree  growing  in  his  forest,  this  his  gift  ties 
me  to  be  at  cost  to  cut  it  down  and  bring  it  home, 
if  I  will  have  it.  And  when  I  have  done  all  this, 
I  cannot  brag  that  by  my  coming  and  service  I 
merited  this  place,  or  by  my  cost  in  cutting  down 
and  carrying  home  the  tree  made  myself  worthy  of  the 
tree,  as  the  Jesuits  speak  of  their  works.  But  only 
the  deed  is  the  way  that  leads  to  the  fruition  of  that 
which  is  freely  given.  There  cannot  be  produced  a 
place  in  all  the  Scripture,  nor  a  sentence  in  all  the 
Fathers,  which  extends  our  works  any  further,  or 
makes  them  exceed  the  latitude  of  a  mere  condition 
or  way  whereby  to  walk  to  that  which  not  them- 
selves, but  the  blood  of  Christ  hath  deserved. 

—  White,  1576-1648. 

(2412.)  A  gardener  offering  a  rape-root  (being 
the  best  present  the  poor  man  had)  to  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  was  bountifully  rewarded  by  the  duke, 
whicli  his  steward  observing,  and  thinking  to  make 
use  of  his  bounty,  presented  him  with  a  very  fair 
horse  ;  the  duke,  being  a  very  wise,  discreet  man, 
perceived  the  project,  received  the  horse,  and  gave 
him  nothing  for  it.  Right  so  will  God  deal  with 
all  merit-mongers  who  tiiink,  by  their  good  works, 
to  purchase  heaven,  which  cannot  be,  the  work 
being  finite,  the  wages  infinite  ;  so  that  merit  must 
need.s  be  a  mere  fiction,  since  there  can  be  no 
proportion  betwixt  the  work  and  reward.  There  is, 
indeed,  mention  made  of  a  mercy-seat  in  the 
temple,  but  there  was  never  heard  of  any  school  oi 
merit  but  in  the  chapel  of  Antichrist. 

—  Trapp,  1601-1669. 

8.  Are  scrutinised  by  God. 

(2413.)  Be  careful  of  your  words,  thoughts,  ways, 
affections,  desires,  all  whicli  are  the  fruits  of  youi 


GOSPEL.     THE 


(  416  ) 


GOSPEL.    THE 


Bouls  ;  for  God  takes  notice  of  all  ;  lie  walks  in  this 
His  garden  every  day,  and  spies  out  how  many  raw, 
unripe,  inuigested  performances,  as  prayers,  &c., 
hang  on  such  or  such  a  hrancli,  what  gum  of  pride, 
what  leaves,  what  luxuriant  sprigs,  what  are  rotten 
boughs  and  which  are  sound,  and  goes  up  and  down 
with  His  pruning-knife  m  His  hand,  a^nti  cuts  and 
slashes  where  He  sees  things  amiss  ;  He  turns  up 
all  your  leaves,  sees  what  fruit  is  under,  and  deals 
with  men  accordingly.       — Goodwin,  1600-1667. 

9.  Evangelical  preachers  are  not  enemies  to 
good  works. 

(2414.)  Because  we  deny  salvation  by  our  own 
works,  many  charge  us  with  being  enemies  to  good 
works.  But  am  I  an  enemy  to  a  nobleman,  because  I 
will  not  attribute  to  him  those  honours  which  are  due 
only  to  the  king  ?  If  1  say  to  a  common  soldier  in 
an  army,  You  cannot  lead  that  army  against  the 
enemy,  will  he  therefore  say.  Then  I  may  begone  : 
there  is  no  need  of  me  ?  Or,  if  I  see  a  man  at  his 
day  labour,  and  say  to  him,  You  will  never  be  able 
to  purchase  an  estate  of  /^  10,000  per  annum  by 
working  in  that  manner,  will  he  therefore  give  over 
his  work,  and  say  he  is  discouraged  ? 

— Salter,  1840. 


GOSPEL,  THE 

1.  A  Great  Mystery. 

(2415.)  We  are  far  from  suppressing  our  convic- 
tion that  this  is  a  great  mystery.  We  rejoice,  on 
the  contrary,  in  its  incomprehensibility.  We  de- 
light to  lose  ourselves  in  the  impenetrable  shades 
which  invest  the  subject ;  because  in  the  darkness 
and  cloud  which  envelop  it  God  dwells.  It  is  the 
greatness  which  forms  the  mystery  of  the  fact  ;  the 
matchless  love  and  condescension  constitute  the 
very  nucleus  of  the  difficulty.  It  could  only  be 
brought  within  the  sphere  of  our  comprehension  by 
a  contraction  of  its  vast  dimensions,  by  a  depression 
of  its  natural  grandeur.  A  prostration  ot  it  to  the 
level  of  our  feeble  capacities  would  only  render  it 
incapable  of  being  the  magnet  of  souls,  the  attrac- 
tion of  hearts,  the  wonder  of  the  universe. 

— Robert  JJall,  1764-1831. 

2.  The  Gladdest  Tidings. 

(2416.)  We  have  many  sweet  and  precious 
promises  to  cheer  our  present  existence,  and  enliven 
the  gloom  of  an  untried  futurity.  But  the  glorious 
announcement  of  a  free  and  full  salvation  tliiough 
the  merits  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  imputed  to  the  be- 
Tever  gimply  through  faith  in  Him,  eclipses  them 
ajl.  Likt  ,he  stars  in  the  presence  of  the  sun,  they 
hide  their  dim.nifcaed  heads,  lost  in  the  effulgence 
of  this  bright  luminary  ;  and  as  the  moon  will  pour 
from  one  end  of  the  heavens  to  the  other,  a  light 
which  could  not  be  contributed  from  the  whole 
ho-t  of  minute  studding:  stars — so  it  is  with  this 
wonderful  gift  of  God's  salvation.  It  sheds  a 
brighter  and  wider  light  than  the  whole  hemisphere 
of  God's  love,  starred  with  all  His  other  precious 
promises,  can  dispense.  — Salter,  1840. 

3.  Is  Addressed  to  all  Mankind. 

(2417.)  While  there  is  eternal  life  in  the  Gospel 
sufficient  for  all,  none  are  specially  excluded  from 
Its  benefits.     Those  only  are  excluded  who  fjxclude 


themselves,  and  refuse  to  be  saved  on  God's  oi*n 
terms.  His  proclamation  of  mercy  to  a  lost,  rebel 
world,  is  clogged  with  no  exceptions.  After  our 
brave  men  had  crushed  that  terrible  revolt  which 
some  years  ago  shook  our  Indian  empire  to  its 
foundations,  and  filled  many  of  our  htames  wit'n 
grief,  an  amnesty  was  proclaimed,  but  not  to  all. 
Some  were  by  name  excluded  from  its  grace  ;  and, 
as  might  have  been  expected,  these  desperate  men 
fought  it  out  to  the  last  in  the  fastnesses  and  (ieadly 
jungles  of  Nepaul.  They  did  not  come  in  to  accept 
the  amnesty.  There  was  no  rea-on  why  they 
should.  It  was  not  for  them.  Heads  of  the  revolt, 
and  guilty  of  cold-blooded  murders,  as  well  as  of 
the  blackest  treachery,  there  was  no  hope  of  mercy 
held  out  to  them  ;  and  so,  standing  to  their  aims, 
they  resolved  to  spin  out  their  lives  to  the  last 
thread,  and  sell  them  at  the  dearest  price.  What  a 
contrast  to  this,  the  Gos)iel  1  Whatever  be  men's 
sins  and  crimes,  none  are  excluded,  by  name  or  by 
character,  Iroin  the  amnesty  which  God  proclaims, 
from  the  benefits  of  eternal  life.  "  Whosoever 
cometh  unto  Me,"  says  Jesus,  "I  will  in  nowise 
cast  out."  — Giiihiie. 

4.  Universally  and  permanently  needful. 

(2418.)  Let  us  for  a  moment  suppose  (what  can 
never  be  proved),  that  mankind  are  now  much 
better  able  to  investigate  the  truth,  and  to  find  out 
their  duty  by  themselves,  than  they  were  in  former 
ages  ;  and  that  reason  can  give  us  (the  utmost  it 
ever  did  or  can  pretend  to  give)  a  perfect  system  of 
morality.  But  what  will  that  avail  us,  unless  it  can 
be  shown  that  man  is  also  perfect  and  uncorrupt? 
A  religion  that  contains  nothing  more  than  a  peifect 
system  of  morality,  might  peihaps  suit  an  angel,  but 
it  is  only  one  part,  it  is  only  a  subordinate  part,  of 
the  religion  of  a  man  and  a  sinner.  It  would  be  but 
very  poor  consolation  to  a  nobleman  expecting  to  be 
led  forth  for  execution,  to  put  into  his  hand  a  com- 
plete collection  of  the  laws  of  his  country,  when  the 
poor  wretch  perhaps  expected  a  reprieve.  It  could 
serve  no  other  pur[)ose  than  to  embitter  his  agonies, 
and  make  him  see  more  clearly  the  justice  of  his 
condemnation.  If  you  choose  to  do  the  unhappy 
man  a  real  service,  and  to  give  him  any  substantial 
comfort,  you  must  assure  him  that  the  oflence  for 
which  he  was  going  to  die  was  forgiven  him  ;  that 
his  sentence  was  reversed  ;  that  he  would  not  only 
be  restored  to  his  prince's  favour,  but  put  in  a  way  of 
preserving  it  for  the  future  ;  and  if  his  conduct  after- 
wards was  honest  and  upright,  he  should  be  deemed 
capable  of  enjoying  the  highest  honours  in  his 
master's  kingdom.  But  no  one  could  tell  him  this, 
or  at  least  he  would  credit  no  one  that  did,  except 
he  was  commissioned  and  authorised  by  the  prince 
himself  to  tell  him  so.  He  might  study  the  laws  in 
his  hands  till  the  very  moment  of  his  execution, 
without  ever  finding  out  from  them  that  he  should 
obtain  a  pardon. 

Such,  the  v'^criptures  inform  us,  was  the  state  of 
man  before  Christ  came  into  the  world.  The  sen- 
tence of  death  had  passed  upon  him,  and  he  had  no 
plea  to  offer  to  arrest  the  execution  of  it.  Reason, 
you  say,  gives  him  a  oerfect  rule  to  walk  by.  But 
he  has  already  tir.nsgicssed  (his  rule,  and  if  even 
this  transgression  were  cancelled,  yet  if  left  to  him- 
self he  may  transgress  it  again  the  next  moment 
He  is  uneasy  under  his  sentence,  he  wants  forgive- 
ness for  the  past,  assistance  for  the  future,  and  the 
prospect  of  being  restored  to  the  honours  and  favou/ 


GOSPEL.     THE 


(    417 


GOSPEL.     THE 


of  the  King  of  heaven,  which  he  has  forfeited  by 
rebellion  ;  and  till  you  can  fjive  liim  this,  it  is  an 
insult  upon  his'  misery  to  talk  to  him  of  a  perfect 
rule  of  action.  If  this  be  all  that  reason  can  give 
him  (and  it  really  is  much  more  than  it  can  give 
him),  he  must  necessarily  have  recourse  to  revelation. 
God  only  knows,  and  God  only  can  tell,  whether 
He  will  forgive,  and  upon  what  terms  He  will 
forgive,  the  oilences  done  against  Him  ;  what  mode 
of  worship  lie  requiies;  what  helps  He  will  afford 
us,  and  what  condition  He  will  place  us  in  here- 
after. All  tiiis  God  actually  has  told  us  in  the 
Gospel.  It  was  to  tell  us  this  He  sent  His  Son  into 
I  he  world.  — Salter,  1S40. 

(2419.)  "And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all 
men  to  me."  So  said  the  Saviour  of  men.  The 
cr:^ss  is  for  all  ages,  and  all  countries,  the  great 
moral  magnet  to  draw  men  from  barbarism  to  civi- 
lisation, from  sin  to  holiness,  from  misery  to  hap- 
piness, and  from  earth  to  heaven  ;  and  it  were  as 
rational  to  say  the  loadstone  had  lost  its  original 
property  of  popular  attraction,  and  that  the  mariner's 
compass  is  an  old  stale  invention,  and  must  now 
be  replaced  with  some  new  device  better  adapted 
to  the  modern  light  of  science,  as  to  suppose  that 
the  doctrine  of  the  cross  has  become  etfete,  and 
must  give  way  to  some  new  phase  of  theological 
truth.  — James. 

(2420.)  It  is  never  to  be  forgotten,  amidst  all  the 
fluctuations  of  opinion,  all  the  vicissitudes  of  earthly 
affairs,  and  even  the  advance  of  civilisation,  science, 
and  social  improvement,  that  human  nature,  in  its 
spiritual  condition  and  its  relation  to  God,  remains 
Bnchanged.  The  lapse  of  ages  will  never  wear  out 
our  natural  corruption,  nor  will  the  progress  of 
science  and  advance  of  civilisation  eradicate  it. 
Man  as  he  is  born  into  the  world,  and  grows  up  in 
it,  will  still,  as  ever,  need  both  the  redemption  and 
the  regeneration  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  Amidst 
the  light  of  the  nineteenth  century,  he  as  mucli  needs 
this  as  he  did  amidst  the  darkness  of  the  Middle 
Ages  ;  it  is  as  needful  to  the  philosopher  of  Great 
Britain  as  to  the  savage  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  :  and 
let  science  carry  on  its  discoveries,  and  art  multiply 
its  inventions,  and  literature  polish  the  surface  of 
society,  as  they  may,  the  redemption  and  regenera- 
tion of  the  Gospel  will  be  as  much  needed  by  our 
posterity,  amidst  the  universal  triumplis  of  civilisa- 
tion, and  the  light  and  glory  of  the  millennium,  as 
they  now  are.  Infidels  may  babble  as  they  please, 
and  it  is  but  babble,  after  ali,  though  it  calls  itself 
philosophy,  about  society  outgrowing  the  need  of 
old  Christianity.  They  may  just  as  rationally  talk 
about  human  nature  outgrowing  the  need  of  the  old 
laws  of  the  material  universe  ;  doing  without  the 
old  sun  to  enlighten  us,  the  old  atmosphere  to 
sustain  us,  the  old  water  to  refresh  us,  and  the  old 
corn  to  nourish  us,  as  without  the  Gospel  to  renew, 
sanctify,  and  save  mankind  ;  for  the  relation  of 
these  to  our  material  nature  is  not  one  whit  more 
fixed  and  unalterable  than  is  the  Gospel  as  a  remedial 
lystem  to  our  lapsed  and  diseased  moral  nature. 

—James, 
5.  Its  universal  adaptation. 

(2471,)  Heaven's  gate  is  no  wider  open  to  a  Jew 
than  to  a  Grec  an.  "  In  Christ  Jesus  neither  cir- 
cumcision availeth  anything,  nor  uncircumcision, 
but  a  new  creature.  And  as  many  as  walk  accord- 
ing to  this  rule,  peace  be  on  them,  and  mei  v,  and 


upon  the  Israel  of  God."  The  sun  of  the  Gospel,  M 
of  the  world,  is  not  confined  to  lighten  judea  only, 
but  shines  universally.  — Adams,  1654. 

(2422.)  However  we  may  differ  from  one  anothe? 
in  training,  in  habits,  in  cas^e  of  thought,  in  idiosyn- 
cracies  of  character,  in  ciicumstances,  in  age,  all 
these  are  but  the  upper  strata  which  vary  locally. 
Beneath  all  these  there  lie  everywhere  the  solid 
foundations  of  the  primeval  rocks,  and  beneath  these, 
again,  the  glowing  central  mass,  the  flaming  heart 
of  the  world.  Christianity  sends  its  shaft  right 
down  through  all  these  upper  and  local  beds,  till  it 
reaches  the  deepest  depths  which  are  the  same  in 
every  man — the  obstinate  wilfulness  of  a  nature 
averse  from  God,  and  the  yet  deeper-lying  longings 
of  a  soul  that  flames  with  the  consciousness  of  God, 
and  yearns  for  rest  and  peace.  To  the  sense  of  sin, 
to  the  sense  of  sorrow,  to  the  conscience  never  wholly 
stifled,  to  the  desires  after  good  never  utterly  eradi- 
cated and  never  slaked  by  ought  beside  itself,  does 

this  mighty  word  come 

Hence  its  universal  adaptation  to  mankind.  It 
alone  of  all  so-called  faiths  overleaps  all  geographical 
limits  and  lives  in  all  centuries.  It  alone  wins  its 
trophies  and  bestows  its  gifts  on  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  men.  Other  plants  which  the  "  Heavenly 
Father  hath  not  planted,"  have  their  zones  of  vegeta- 
tion and  die  outside  certain  degrees  of  latitude,  but 
the  seed  of  the  kingdom  is  like  corn,  an  exotic  no- 
where, for  wherever  man  lives  it  will  grow,  and  yet 
an  exotic  everywhere,  for  it  came  down  from  heaven. 
Other  food  requires  an  educated  palate  for  its  ap- 
preciation, but  any  hungry  man  in  any  land  will 
relish  bread.  For  every  soul  on  earth  this  living, 
dying  love  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  addresses  itself 
to  and  satisfies  his  deepest  wants.  It  is  the  bread 
which  gives  life  to  the  world.  — Maclaren. 

(2423.)  God's  Gospel  is  made  not  for  English- 
men but  for  all  men.  There  is  a  light  for  every 
land,  and  a  blessing  for  eveiy  nation  and  kindred 
and  people.  Many  think  the  Gospel  is  a  very 
beautiful  thing  if  you  would  only  keep  it  at  home  ; 
but  the  moment  you  try  to  apply  it  to  anybody  else 
it  will  not  suit  them.  Try  it  upon  the  negro  : 
"  Well,  the  fact  is,  he  is  too  low  ;  he  is  not  capable 
of  being  elevated  to  the  height  of  Christianity.'' 
Try  it  upon  the  Brahmin  :  he  is  too  high,  far 
above  ;  you  cannot  reach  him.  Each  of  these  must 
have  some  particular  religion  adapted  to  himself; 
but  one  religion  would  not  suit  them  all.  A  man 
looked  into  the  eye  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  and  found  it 
blue,  and  into  the  eye  of  a  negro,  and  found  it 
black,  and  he  said,  These  are  different  organisa- 
tions; you  are  not  so  bewildered  as  to  think 
you  can  enlighten  both  these  eyes  with  the  same 
sun.  You  must  have  a  run  for  each  of  them  ;  you 
must  have  different  suns,  you  see,  because  the  eyes 
ate  differently  organised.  Very  well,  that  is  ex- 
ceedingly fine  in  theory,  but  try  it — try  whether  the 
sun  which  God  put  in  the  heaven  will  not  illuminate 
the  pale  eye  of  the  northerner  and  the  dark  eye  of 
the  southerner.  — Arthur. 

V2424.)  Think  not  that  the  beauties  of  this  world 
are  for  the  rich  and  gieat  alone  The  illuminated 
drawing-room,  the  green-house,  and  the  hot-house, 
they  are  theirs ;  but  the  quiet  moonlight,  the 
nightly  heavens,  with  their  multitude  of  shining 
woilds  the  sun  spreading  his  splc-ndour  over  a  sky 
of  cloudless  blue,  or  lighting  up  the  clouds  of  even- 

2  U 


GOSPEL.      THE 


(  418  ) 


GOSPEL.     THE 


ing  with  a  thousand  gorgeous  hues,  the  air  perfumed 
in  its  passage  over  fitilds  and  heath,  the  lovely 
flowers  of  the  field  and  hedge-row,  these  are  pro- 
vided by  a  beneficent  God  for  rich  and  poor  alike. 
And  who  would  leave  these  for  the  painted  gaieties 
of  art  ?  So  the  blessings  of  tlie  Gos]5el  are  not  for 
the  learned  alone.  They  may  taste  the  beauties  of 
the  inspired  poetry  better,  and  penetrate  more 
deeply  into  the  few  obscurities  of  holy  writ  ;  but 
t'ne  comforts  of  the  Uible,  pardon  of  sin,  reconcilia- 
tion with  God,  )ieace,  and  holiness,  and  heaven  — 
thf.se  are  for  all  ;  these  gladden  the  heart  of  the 
labourer  at  his  toil,  of  the  patient  of  an  hospital  on 
his  dying  bed.  And  beware  then  how  thou  quit 
these  divine  consolations  for  all  that  learning  can 
offer.  — Salter. 

6.  Its  adaptation  to  our  need  a  proof  of  its 
filvlne  orig-in. 

(2425.)  The  sin  and  misery  of  the  world  is  such 
that  it  Liroanelh  for  a  Saviour  ;  and  when  I  hear  of 
a  physician  sent  from  heaven,  I  easily  believe  it, 
when  I  "see  the  woful  world  mortally  diseased,  and 
gasping  in  its  deep  distress.  The  condition  of  the 
world  is  visibly  so  suitable  to  the  whole  office  of 
Christ,  and  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel,  that  I  am 
driven  to  think  that  if  God  have  mercy  for  it,  sorwe 
physician  and  extraordinary  help  shall  be  aflbrded 
it.  Anil  when  I  jee  none  else  but  Jesus  Christ 
whom  reason  will  allow  me  to  believe  is  tiiat  Physi- 
cian, it  somewhat  prepareth  my  mind  to  look 
toward  Him  and  hope. 

And  also  the  evil  of  this  present  world  is  very 
suitable  to  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  when  He  telleth 
us  how  He  came  not  to  settle  us  here  in  a  state  of 
prosperity,  nor  to  make  the  world  our  rest  or  por- 
tion ;  but  to  save  us  from  it,  as  our  enemy  and 
calamity,  our  danger,  and  our  wilderness  and 
trouble,  and  to  bring  up  our  hearts  first  and  then 
ourselves  to  a  better  world,  which  He  calleth  us  to 
seek  and  to  make  sure  of,  whereas  I  find  that  most 
other  religions,  though  they  say  something  of  a  life 
hereafter,  yet  lead  men  to  look  for  most  or  much  of 
their  felicity  here,  as  consisting  in  the  fruition  of 
this  world,  which  experience  tells  me  is  so  miserable. 
— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(2426  )  If  a  man  but  see  his  deficiencies,  then  by 
a  single  glance  of  the  eye  may  he  also  see  how  the 
doctrines  of  the  Gospel  and  these  deficiencies  fit  to 
one  another  ;  and  tnus,  by  an  act  of  intuition,  may 
a  man  without  learning,  but  with  a  conscience 
simply  awakened,  be  made  to  perceive  what  no 
erudition,  and  no  elaborate  contemplation  of  the 
articles  of  orthodo-xy,  will  make  another  man  to 
perceive  whose  conscience  is  unawakened.  It  is 
somewhat  as  if  a  fragment  of  anything  was  broken 
away  from  some  mass  of  which  at  one  time  it  formed 
a  part.  All  the  hollows  and  all  the  protuberances 
on  one  surface  will  be  in  a  state  of  most  accurate 
adjustment  with  the  corresponding  protuberances 
and  hollows  upon  the  other.  lUit  it  is  not  looking, 
however  intently,  to  one  of  these  surfaces,  tliat  we 
shall  come  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  this  sejiaration  ; 
or  if  re-union  be  possible,  the  place  at  which  the  re- 
union should  be  made.  It  is  not  by  the  most  strict 
and  scientific  measurement  of  the  various  angles 
and  unevennesses  which  have  been  made  at  the 
place  oi  disruption,  if  we  have  only  one  side  of  the 
fracture  to  look  upon.  But  if  we  have  both  sides 
lo  compare  the  one  with  the  other,  we  may,  with 


the  rapid  inspection  of  a  moment,  perceive  what  the 
labour  of  a  whole  life  expended  on  the  inspecvion  of 
one  side  could  not  have  enabled  us  to  perceive. 
We  may  come  at  once  to  the  belief,  that  here  at  one 
time  a  part  was  rent  away — and  this  is  the  very 
fragment  which  has  fallen  off — and  that  on  the  rock 
from  which  it  was  detached,  we  behold  its  precise 
and  certain  counterpart — a  conclusion  to  which  we 
never  should  have  come  by  the  single  contemplation 
of  the  precipice  that  is  above  us,  but  to  which  we 
come  immediately,  and  as  if  by  the  light  of  intuition, 
on  comparing  it  to  the  dissevered  piece  that  is 
beneath  us.  And  such  is  the  certainty  of  our  reli- 
gious experience.  — ChaJmers,  17S0-1847. 

(2427.)  The  Divine  character  of  the  Gospel  ap- 
pears in  this — in  its  wonderful  capacity  to  adapt 
itself  to  the  borndless  wants  of  the  whole  family  of 
man.  It  is  like  the  mighty  ocean  which  rolls  itself 
on  the  wide-spreading  shores  of  a  hundred  empires, 
and  yet  replenishes  and  fills  vvith  its  tide  the  little 
creek.  Thus  the  Gospel,  while  it  visits  with  its 
healing  waters  the  wide-spreading  Church  of  Christ, 
fills,  and  supplies  with  the  waters  of  life,  the  soul  of 
the  meanest  believer  in  Jesus.  — Salter. 

7.  Its  power. 

(2428  )  The  Gospel  is  a  true  Bethesda,  a  pool  of 
grace,  where  such  poor,  lame,  and  infirm  creatures 
as  we  are,  upon  the  moving  of  God's  Spirit  in  it, 
may  descend  down,  not  only  to  wash  our  skin  and 
outside,  but  also  to  be  cured  of  our  diseases  within. 
The  Gospel  is  not  like  Abana  and  I'harpar,  those 
common  rivers  of  Damascus,  that  could  only  cleanse 
the  outside  ;  but  it  is  a  true  Jordan,  in  which  such 
leprous  Naamans  as  we  ail  are  inay  wash  and  b« 
clean.  — Cudworth,  1617-16S8. 

(2429.)  The  river  Wye  is  considered  one  of  th# 
most  beautiful  streams  that  flow  across  our  country. 
It  is  admitted  that  it  winds  its  beautiful  course 
through  some  of  the  fairest  scenery  and  the  richest 
and  most  fruitful  districts  of  our  land, — scenes  so 
fair,  so  varied,  so  lovely,  and  so  beautiful,  that  one 
would  think  that  in  themselves  they  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  win  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants  to  God, 
and  to  inspire  them  with  holy  thoughts  and  admira- 
tion of  the  great  Source  of  nature,  and  of  beauty, 
and  goodness.  But,  alas  !  the  history  of  man  shows 
that  in  some  of  the  fairest  regions  of  the  world  man 
has  been  the  most  degraded.  So  it  was  on  the 
banks  of  that  beautiful  stream.  On  the  south  tide 
there  were  a  number  of  parishes,  and  these  parishes 
were  in  deadly  feud  between  each  other.  We  will 
call,  if  you  please,  those  on  the  one  side  the 
northerners,  and  those  on  the  other  side  the 
southerners.  I  cannot  say  the  number  of  parishes 
on  each  side  that  were  engaged  in  this  matter,  but 
this  was  a  fact — that  once  a  year  some  hundreds  of 
men  met  in  a  village  upon  the  banks  of  this  beauti- 
ful river  to  fight  a  battle  that  lasted  several  hours, 
with  sticks  and  clubs  loaded  with  lead.  Nobody 
knew  the  origin  of  it,  nor  what  it  was  about ;  but 
they  had  commenced  settling  some  unknown  ques« 
tion  by  blows,  and,  though  the  one  party  sometimes 
was  satisfied,  or  gained  the  victory,  the  other  side 
was  never  satisfied,  who  lost  it,  and  the  result  was, 
it  had  to  be  fought  out  again,  and  settled  again,  and 
it  never  got  settled  at  all.  The  magistrates  were  in 
the  habit  of  guartling  the  peace  against  these  rude 
people  by  swearing  in  a  great  number  of  constables ; 


GOSPEL.     THE 


419  ) 


GOSPEL.     THE 


but,  in  spite  of  all  the  constables,  farmers  and  their 
sons, — men  who  held  respectable  positions  in  the 
neighbourhood, — with  their  dependencies,  came  and 
met  on  the  anniversai^  of  this  battle,  and  always 
would  fight  it  out.  The  last  time  they  fought,  the 
northerners  gained  the  day  ;  they  went  home  with 
flying  colours  ;  the  southerners  went  home  swearing 
vengeance  upon  their  old  enemies,  and  saying  they 
would  give  it  them  the  next  time  they  met.  How- 
ever, during  the  course  of  the  summer,  one  fine 
afternoon,  a  stranger,  decently  clad,  was  seen  walk- 
ing into  one  of  the  villages  belonging"  to  the  con- 
quered army.  He  looked  round  about,  turned  into 
a  cottage,  and  asked  for  the  loan  of  a  chair.  The 
good  woman  of  the  cottage  saw  he  was  a  stranger, 
but  as  he  had  a  decent  appearance,  she  judged  that 
he  might  be  trusted  with  an  old  chair  for  a  short 
time.  He  walked  off  and  planted  his  chair  under  a 
tall  elm  growing  in  the  centre  of  the  village  green. 
He  mounted  the  chair,  and  commenced  singing 
a  hymn.  The  villagers  all  come  out  of  their 
doors,  and  there  is  a  strange  speculation  going  on 
as  to  what  all  this  could  mean  :  "This  man  is  not 
begging, — he  would  not  beg  there ;  what  is  he 
about?"  Nobody  knew  where  he  came  from  nor 
where  he  was  going  to.  He  had  brought  no  letter 
of  recommendation  or  commendation  to  the  clergy- 
man ot  the  parish,  to  Mr.  Boniface  of  the  "  Red 
Lion,"  to  the  churchwardens,  or  to  anybody  else. 
Nobody  knew  anytliing  about  him.  After  singing 
the  hymn  he  prayed.  By  the  time  he  had  opened 
his  eyes  after  prayer,  he  found  two  or  tliree  hundred 
people  about  him.  Then  he  sang  a  hymn — then  he 
preached.  The  people  were  astonished  that  the 
man  could  pray  without  a  prayer-book,  and  that  he 
coulil  preach  without  a  manuscript.  It  was  a  thing 
they  had  never  witnessed  belore.  They  listened  to 
him,  and,  with  power,  and  energy,  and  Divine 
unction,  he  spoke  the  trutli  to  these  rude  people. 
Many  of  tlie  people  who  were  accustomed  to  tight 
the  neiglibouring  villages  once  a  year  were  there, 
and  for  the  first  time  heard  the  truth  in  that  honest, 
earnest  manner,  delivered  in  their  hearing.  It  was 
a  fortnight  after,  and  a  fortnight  after  that ;  and 
then  he  went  to  the  other  villages,  and,  in  the 
course  of  six  or  eight  month-,  numbers  of  these 
rough  people  were  converted  to  God.  A  society 
was  formed.  The  17th  of  May,  the  anniversary  ot 
the  battle,  returned.  The  northerners  were  there 
to  fight  their  old  enemies,  but  not  a  southerner  was 
theie  to  fight  tliat  day.  Never  has  a  battle  ot  that 
chaiacter  been  fought  there  since.  And  this  peace 
was  not  brought  about  by  the  interlerence  of  the 
magistrate,  nor  by  the  powerful  arm  of  the  police, 
but  by  a  simple  stranger  that  nobody  knew,  with 
God's  love  in  his  heart,  and  God's  Book  in  his 
hand,  preaching  the  truth  to  these  people. 

— Henry  Fhillips. 

(2430.)  The  Gospel  is  the  spiritual  medicine  ot 
the  si'ul.  In  numberless  cases,  certainly,  it  does 
not  restore  the  health  of  the  soul ;  but  let  the 
blame  Vie  cast  where  it  ought  to  rest.  Let  it  never 
be  (orgf)tten  that  tiie  fault  is  not  in  the  medicine, 
but  in  the  indisposition  of  sinners  to  take  it.  In  a 
case  where  the  Gos|iel  does  not  produce  holy  per- 
ceptions and  atfections,  are  we  warranted  to  suppose 
thai  it  is  essentially  incompetent  to  their  production, 
even  when  by  the  power  of  fiith  it  is  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  mind  ?  Ought  we  not  rather  to 
suppose  that  it  has  not  been  brought  to  bear  upon 


the  mind  of  this  individual  in  consequence  of  his 
rejection  of  its  testimony?  The  latter,  surely,  is  the 
true  state  of  the  case.  I  can  scarcely  imagine  a 
greater  mistake  than  one  which  I  fear  is  committed 
by  many  who  speak  as  if  they  thought  that,  when 
the  Gospel  is  scripturally  understood  and  firmly 
believed,  it  has  no  power  to  raise  the  affections 
from  sin  to  lipliness  ;  from  the  world  to  God  ; — • 
that  even  in  this  case  some  additional  influence 
must  be  imparted  to  it,  or  that  it  would  remain 
totally  inoperative.  To  entertain  this  notion  is 
virtually  to  maintain  that  the  sinner  may  not  btt 
blameable  even  while  he  remains  unsanctified, 
having  by  supposition  exhausted  his  duty  by  believing 
the  Gospel.  He  has  done,  on  this  admission,  all 
that  God  requires  of  him.  He  has  taken  the  right 
medicine — taken  it  in  the  prescribed  manner,  and 
yet  his  spiritual  malady  remains.  How  could  we 
avoid  feeling  that,  if  this  were  indeed  the  case,  the 
fault  would  be  in  the  medicine,  and  that  he  would 
be  an  object  of  pity,  and  not  of  censure  ?  On  these 
accounts,  I  cannot  but  strongly  object  to  the  phrase- 
ology of  some  who  apply  the  words,  *'  a  dead  letter," 
to  the  Word  of  God.  If  the  terms  were  merely 
meant  to  intimate  the  fact  that  Divine  revelation  is 
never  understood  and  received  as  the  record  of  God 
without  Divine  influences,  they  would  convey  a  most 
undeniable  and  important  truth.  But  1  fear  that, 
in  many  cases  at  least,  the  words  are  designed  to 
teach  that  the  medicine  itself  is  essentially  in- 
operative ;  and  when  this  idea  is  conveyed  to  the 
mind  of  the  sinner,  it  will  veil  the  full  extent  of  his 
guilt,  by  failing  to  fix  his  attention  upon  his  own 
obstinate  rejection  of  the  metiicine,  as  the  direct 
and,  indeed,  exclusive  cause  of  his  remaining  under 
the  full  power  of  spiritual  disease.  — I'ayne. 

8.  How  It  Is  to  be  treated  by  us. 

(2431.)  We  look  at  flowers  and  admire  them,  but 
the  bees  extract  from  them  honey  and  wax.  Some 
admire  the  Gospel  ;  others  get  blessing  from  it. — R. 

(2432.)  We  may  form  some  idea  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  Gospel  ought  to  be  received  from  its 
being  represented  as  an  embassy.  "  We  are  am- 
bassadors for  Christ,"  saith  the  apostle,  "as  though 
God  did  beseech  you  by  us  :  we  pray  you,  in  Christ's 
stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to  God."  The  object  of  an 
embassy,  in  all  cases,  is  peace.  Ambassadors  are 
sometimes  employed  between  friendly  powers  for 
the  adjustment  of  their  affairs  ;  but  the  allusion,  in 
this  case,  is  manifestly  to  a  righteous  prince,  who 
should  condescend  to  speak  peaceably  to  his  rebel- 
lious subjects,  and,  as  it  were,  to  entreat  them  for 
their  own  sakes  to  be  reconciled.  The  language  of 
the  apostle  supposes  that  the  world  is  engaged  in 
an  unnatural  and  unprovoked  rebellion  against  its 
Maker  ;  that  it  is  in  His  power  utterly  to  destroy 
sinners  ;  that  if  He  were  to  deal  with  them  accord- 
ing to  their  deserts,  this  must  be  their  portion  ;  but 
that,  through  the  mediation  of  His  Son,  He  had,  a» 
it  were,  suspended  hostilities,  had  sent  His  servants 
with  words  of  peace,  and  commissioned  them  to 
persuade,  to  entreat,  and  even  to  beseech  them  to 
be  reconciled.  But  reconciliation  to  God  includes 
everything  that  belongs  to  true  conversion.  It  is 
the  opposite  of  a  state  of  alienation  and  enmity  to 
Him  (Col.  i.  21).  It  includes  a  justification  of  Hi<; 
government,  a  condemnation  of  their  own  un- 
provoked rebellion  against  Him,  and  a  thankful 
reception  of  the  message  of  peace  j  which  is  tlic 


GOSPEL.     THE 


(  420  ) 


GOSPEL.     THE 


tame  for  substance  as  to  repent  and  believe  the 
Gospel.  To  speak  of  an  embassy  from  the  God  of 
heaven  and  earth  to  His  rebellious  creatures  being 
entitled  to  nothing  niore  than  an  audience,  or  a 
decent  attention,  must  itself  be  highly  offensive  to 
the  honour  of  His  Majesty  ;  and  that  such  language 
should  proceed  from  His  professed  friends  must 
render  it  still  more  so. 

"  When  the  apostle  beseecheth  us  to  be  're- 
conciled' to  God  I  would  know,"  says  Dr.  Owen, 
"whether  it  be  not  a  part  of  our  duty  to  yield 
obedience  ?  If  not,  the  exhortation  is  frivolous  and 
vain."  If  sinners  are  not  obliged  to  be  reconciled 
to  God,  both  as  a  Lawgiver  and  a  Saviour,  and  that 
with  all  their  hearts,  it  is  no  sin  to  be  unreconciled. 
All  the  enmity  of  their  hearts  to  God,  His  law.  His 
gospel,  or  His  Son,  must  be  guiltless.  For  there 
can  be  no  neutrality  in  this  case  :  not  to  be 
reconciled  is  to  be  unreconciled  ;  not  to  fall  in  with 
the  message  of  peace  is  to  fall  out  with  it  ;  and  not 
to  lay  down  arms  and  submit  to  mercy  is  to  main- 
tain the  war.  — Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815. 

(2433.)  I  only  wish  I  saw  people  as  eager  to  be 
saved  from  hell,  as  I  once  saw  a  man  to  be  saved 
from  drowning.  It  was  at  yonder  ferry.  Procras- 
tination, the  ruin  of  souls,  was  almost  his  death. 
The  lime  was  up  ;  the  bell  was  rung  ;  the  gangway 
withdrawn  ;  the  boat  in  motion  ;  when,  after  too 
many  delays,  he  came  running  along  the  pier,  and, 
deaf  to  the  cries  of  warning,  took  a  bold  and  des- 
perate spring  to  catch  our  bulwark.  He  caught  it, 
but  lost  his  hold,  fell  backwards  ;  and  went  down 
instantly — engulphed  in  the  roaring  sea.  Sucked 
out  by  the  receding  wave,  he  rose  to  the  surface  a 
good  way  off.  And  though  it  was  a  blessed  sight 
to  see  his  head  emerge  Irom  the  water,  every  eye 
was  still  anxiously  fixed  on  him.  He  floated  on  his 
back,  but  could  not  swim  ;  and  therefore  must  soon 
perish.  And  he  had  perished  ;  but  that  then  one, 
bearing  a  life-buoy  aloft  in  his  hand,  came  rushing 
down  the  pier  at  the  top  of  his  speed.  Anxiety  was 
now  wound  up  to  the  highest  pitch.  Shall  he  save 
him  ?  He  stops  ;  and  with  the  spray  of  the  stormy 
sea  flying  in  his  face,  takes  aim  ;  now  he  bends  like 
a  bow  ;  and  then,  rising  to  the  spring,  with  hercu- 
lean arm  he  sends  the  life-buoy  spinning  through 
the  air,  away  over  the  waves,  to  the  drowning  man. 
What  a  moment  of  suspense  for  him  ;  for  us^the 
on-loi>kers  !  Well  thrown  by  man,  and  well  directed 
by  a  watchful  Providence,  it  fell  right  over  his  sink- 
ing head.  With  what  joy  he  caught  it  !  How  he 
laid  hold  of  it  !  Never  lover  embr.iced  lover  with 
such  eager,  happy  arms.  I  saw  him  holding  on, 
pulled  from  a  watery  grave  ;  and  thought.  Would 
God,  that  poor  sinners,  that  every  man  ready  to 
perish,  laid  hold  as  eagerly  of  eternal  life  ! 

— GtUhrie. 

(2434.)  Scatter  money  in  a  crowd,  how  they 
scramble  for  it  ;  offer  bread  to  the  st.Trving,  how 
greedily  they  seize  it:  throw  a  rope  to  the  drowning, 
how  he  eagerly  grasps  it  !  With  like  eagerness  and 
earnestness  may  the  Spirit  of  God  help  you  to  lay 
hold  on  Christ.  — Guthrie. 

9.  The  dangrer  of  neglecting  It. 

(2435. )  The  Gospel  is  a  proclamation  of  free  mercy 
to  guilty  creatures— an  act  of  grace  to  rebels.  Now, 
though  a  rebel  should  throw  away  his  pistols,  and 
determine  to  go  into  the  woods,  and  make  his  mind 


better  bei"ore  he  goes  to  court  and  pleads  the  act ; 
he  may  indeed  not  be  found  in  amis,  yet  being  taktn 
in  his  reforming  scheme  he  will  be  hanged.  So  will 
it  be  with  those  who  delay  coming  to  Christ.  Hell 
is  paved  with  good  intentions. 

— Newton,  1725- 1807. 

10.  Not  to  be  rejected  because  of  tlie  imperfec- 
tions of  its  preachers. 

(2436.)  As  a  famished  man,  who  doth  never  re 
fuse  any  wholesome  food  prepared  for  him  by  hij 
host,  though  his  host  himself  will  not  taste  thereof; 
and,  likewise,  a  very  sick  patient,  who  never  re- 
jecteth  healthful  medicine,  though  his  physician  doth 
minister  the  same  with  a  leprous  hand  ;  or  as  a 
miserable  beggar  will  not  forsake  a  fair  piece  of 
silver  or  gold,  though  it  be  proffered  him  in  a  filthy 
fist ;  and  like  as  unto  an  imprisoned  rebel,  who 
will  never  reject  the  prince's  pardon,  though  it  be 
brought  him  by  a  most  lewd  ribald  ;  or  as  a 
sorrowful,  distressed  caitifiT  would  willingly  heat 
any  joyful  news,  notwithstanding  the  messenger 
who  brings  the  same  be  a  very  ungracious  varlet : 
so  there  can  be  no  more  dainty  diet  provided  for 
Christians  than  the  food  of  their  souls  ;  there  can- 
not be  a  more  healthful  medicine  made  for  Christian 
hearers  of  the  Word  than  that  which  amendeth 
their  spiritual  maladies,  nor  can  a  more  golden  gift 
be  given  unto  them  than  the  seven  times  purified 
gold  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures  rightly  divided,  neither 
can  there  be  any  more  welcome  pardon  proclaimed 
to  men  than  that  which  concerns  the  inheritance  of 
everlasting  life.  Notwithstanding  the  preacher 
himself  be  careless,  be  leprous,  be  filthy,  be  beastly, 
or  vile,  yet  the  godly  hearer  will  not  forsake  this 
heavenly  food,  or  make  light  account  of  this  whole- 
some medicine,  or  lightly  esteem  this  gold,  or 
reject  this  pardon,  or  scorn  this  news,  but  feed 
hungrily  upon  it,  apply  it  in  time,  lay  it  up  in  his 
heart,  yield  all  reverence  unto  it,  and  delight  only 
therein,  as  in  the  very  joy  of  his  soul. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

11.  Not  to  be  rejected  on  account  of  the  scepti- 
cism of  able  men. 

(2437.)  It  should  not  surprise  us  when  men  of 
acute  and  powerful  understandings  more  or  less 
reject  the  Gospel,  for  this  reason,  that  the  Christian 
revelation  addresses  itself  to  our  hearts,  to  our  love 
of  truth  and  goodness,  our  fear  of  siiming,  and  oui 
desire  to  gain  God's  favour ;  and  quickness,  sagacity, 
depth  of  thought,  strength  of  mind,  power  of  com- 
prehension, perception  of  the  beautiful,  power  of 
language,  and  the  like,  though  they  are  excellent 
gifts,  are  clearly  quite  of  a  difierent  kind  from  these 
excellencies — a  man  may  have  the  one  without  hav- 
ing the  other.  This,  then,  is  the  plain  reason  why 
able,  or,  again,  why  learned  men  are  so  defective 
Christians,  because  there  is  no  necessary  connection 
between  faith  and  ability ;  because  faith  is  one 
thing  and  ability  is  another  ;  because  ability  of 
mind  is  a  gift,  and  faith  is  a  grace.  Who  would 
ever  argue  that  a  man  could,  like  Samson,  conquer 
lions  or  throw  down  the  gates  of  a  city,  because  he 
was  able,  or  accomplished,  or  experienced  in  the 
business  of  life  ?  Who  would  ever  argue  that  a  man 
could  see  because  he  could  hear,  or  run  with  the 
swift  because  he  had  "  the  tongue  of  the  learned  "  ? 
Thf^se  gifts  are  different  in  kind.  In  like  manner, 
powers  of  mind  and  religious  principles  and  feeling* 
are  distinct  gilts  ;  and  as  all  the  highest  spirituaJ 


GOSPEL.     THE 


(    421     ) 


GOSPEL.     THE 


excellence,  humility,  firmness,  patience,  would  never 
enable  a  man  to  read  an  unknown  tongue,  or  to 
enter  into  the  depths  of  science,  so  all  the  most 
brilliant  mental  endowments,  wit,  or  iniagination, 
or  penetration,  or  depth,  will  never  of  themselves 
make  us  wise  in  reli-ion.  And  as  we  should  fairly 
and  ju-tly  deride  the  savage  who  wislied  to  decide 
questions  of  science  or  literature  by  the  sword,  so 
may  we  justly  Inok  with  amazement  on  the  error  of 
those  who  think  that  they  can  master  the  liigh 
mysteries  of  spiritual  truth,  and  find  their  way  to 
G<id,  by  what  is  commonly  called  reason,  i.e.,  by 
the  random  and  blind  efforts  of  mere  mental  acute- 
ness,  and  mere  experience  of  the  world. 

That  truth,  which  St.  Paul  preaclied,  addresses 
itself  to  our  spiritual  nature  ;  it  will  be  rightly  un- 
derstood, valued,  accepted,  by  none  but  lovers  of 
truth,  virtue,  purity,  humility,  and  peace.  ^Visdom 
will  be  jiistilieil  of  her  children.  Those,  indeed, 
who  are  thus  endowed  may  and  will  go  on  to  use 
their  powers  of  mind,  whatever  they  are.  in  the  ser- 
vice of  religion  ;  none  but  they  can  use  them  aright. 
Those  who  reject  revealed  truth  wilfully,  are  such 
as  do  not  love  moral  and  religious  truth.  It  is  bad 
■men.  proud  men,  men  of  hard  hearts,  and  un- 
humbled  tempers,  and  immoral  lives,  tliese  are  they 
who  reject  the  (jospel.  These  are  they  of  whom 
St.  Paul  speaks  in  another  epistle — "If  our  Gospel 
be  hid,  it  is  hid  to  them  that  are  lost,  in  whom  the 
god  of  this  world  has  blinded  the  minds  of  them 
which  believe  not."  With  this  agrees  the  instances 
of  turning  the  ears  from  the  truth  which  the  New 
Testament  affords  us.  Who  were  they  who  were 
the  enemies  of  Christ  and  His  apostles?  The 
inhdel  Sadducees,  the  immoral,  hard-hearted,  yet 
hypocritical  Pharisees;  Ilerod,  v/lio  married  his 
brother  Philip's  wife ;  and  Felix,  who  trembled 
when  St.  Paul  reasoned  of  righteousness,  tempe- 
rance, and  judgment  to  come.  On  the  other  hand, 
men  of  holy  and  consistent  lives,  as  Cornelius  the 
centurion,  and  those  who  were  frequenters  of  re- 
ligious ordii  ances,  as  Simeon  and  Anna,  these  be- 
came Christians.  So  it  is  now.  If  men  turn  unto 
fables  of  their  own  will,  thev  do  it  on  account  of 
their  pride,  or  their  love  of  indolence  and  self-indul- 
gence. 

1  his  should  be  kept  in  the  mind  when  Christians 
are  alarmed,  as  they  sometimes  are,  on  hearing  in- 
stances of  infidelity  or  heresy  among  those  who 
read,  reflect,  and  inquire  ;  whereas,  however  we 
may  mourn  over  such  instances,  we  have  no  reason 
to  I'C  surprised  at  them.  It  is  quite  enough  for 
Christians  to  be  able  to  show,  as  they  well  can,  that 
belief  in  revealed  religion  is  not  inconsistent  with 
the  higiiest  gifts  and  acquirements  of  mind,  that 
men  even  of  the  strongest  and  highest  intellect  liave 
betn  Ciiri^tians;  but  they  have  as  little  reason  to 
be  perplexed  at  finding  other  men  of  ability  not 
true  believers,  as  at  finding  that  certain  rich  men 
are  not  true  br lievers,  or  certain  poor  men,  or  some 
in  every  rank  and  circumstance  of  life.  A  belief  in 
Christianity  has  hardly  more  connection  with  what 
is  called  talent,  than  it  has  with  riches,  station, 
power,  or  bodily  strength.         — J.  H.  Newman. 

12.  In  what  sense  men  are  damned  for  rejecting 
it. 

(2438.)  It  may,  in  a  sense,  be  said  of  a  rebel  who 
refuses  to  lay  down  his  arms  and  submit  to  mercy 
/which  is  a  case  more  in  point  than  that  of  a  con- 


demned criminal  in  the  hands  of  justice),  that  whea 
he  comes  to  be  punished,  he  will  die  because  he 
refused  the  king's  "pardon  ;  but  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  word  "because"  is,  in  this  connection,  used  im- 
properly. It  does  not  mean  that  the  refusal  of  mercy 
is  the  crime,  and  the  only  crime,  foi  which  he  siifiers  ; 
no,  this  is  not  the  direct  or  procuring,  so  much  as 
the  occasional  cause  of  his  punishment.  Rebellion 
is  that  for  which  he  suffers  ;  and  his  refusal  of  mercy 
is  no  further  a  procuring  cause  of  it  than  as  it  is  a 
perseverance  in  rebellion,  and,  as  it  were,  the  com- 
pletion of  it.  — Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815. 

13.  Its  diverse  effects. 

(2439.)  As  the  same  light  of  the  sun  offendeth 
weak  eyes,  but  comforteth  those  that  are  stronger- 
sighted  ;  and  as  the  heat  thereof  hardens  clay,  but 
softens  wax  ;  or  as  the  same  star  is  to  some  a  morn- 
ing star,  ushering  in  light  and  day,  and  to  others 
an  evening  star,  bringing  darkness  and  night :  so  the 
Gospel  is  preached  indifferently  to  all  manner  of 
persons,  but  it  works  in  a  different  manner.  It  hath 
not  the  like  effect  on  all  people  ;  forasmuch  as,  be- 
ing received  by  the  faithful,  it  produceth  in  them 
life  and  salvation,  as  containing  all  the  causes  there- 
of in  itself;  but  being  rejected  by  unbelievers,  it 
becometh  in  them  the  occasion  of  a  greater  condem- 
nation, and  makes  their  perdition  inevitable  :  to 
some  it  is  a  comfort,  to  others  a  terror ;  the  rise  of 
one  man,  and  the  fall  of  another.  , 

— Spencer,  1658. 

(2440.)  Even  as  it  is  with  the  proclamation  of  a 
prince,  which  he  sendeth  out  to  his  rebellious  sub- 
jects, wherein  he  makelh  offer  not  only  of  pardon, 
but  of  grace  and  favour,  to  those  who  will  lay  down 
their  arms  and  come  in,  showing  themselves  loyal 
and  obedient,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  threateneth 
extremity  of  punishment  to  those  who  shall  yet 
stand  out ;  now,  this  proclamation,  with  the  same 
breath,  breatheth  out  both  life  and  death — life  to 
those  who  will  hearken  to  it  (which  is  the  main  end 
and  intent  of  proclaiming  it),  but  death  to  those  who 
oppose  themselves  against  it  :  even  so  it  is  with  the 
evangelical  proclamation,  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel.  It  reacheth  out  life  and  death  after  the 
same  manner — life  to  penitent  believers,  who  readily 
accept  the  offers  of  grace  and  mercy  there  tendered, 
but  death  to  obstinate  and  rebellious  sinners,  who 
reject  them.  To  the  one  it  is  a  savour  of  life  unto 
life,  to  the  other  a  savour  of  death  unto  death  ;  to 
believers  the  morning  star,  bringing  the  light  of 
grace  here  and  of  glory  hereafter  ;  to  others  the 
evening  star,  leading  to  everlasting  darkness.  Not 
that  it  is  so  in  itself,  being  in  its  own  nature  the 
Word  of  Life  ;  but  accidentally  it  becometh  so  to 
them,  through  their  unbelief  and  rejection  of  it. 

— Brinsley,  1600-1665. 

(2441.)  The  Gospel  becomes  a  trial  of  men's 
spirits  ;  and,  by  it,  "  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts 
are  revealed."  The  man  who  loathes  his  dungeon 
will  gladly  take  this  Lamp,  and  explore  his  way  to 
liberty  ;  while  another,  who  loves  his  bondage,  will 
only  dispute  or  slumber  by  it. 

— Cecil,  1748-1810. 

(2442.)  The  Gospel  is  preached  equally  to  every 
man.  The  same  message  comes  to  us  all,  offering 
us  the  same  terms.  Christ  stands  before  each  of  us 
fci  the  same  attitude.    And  what  is  the  consequence! 


GOSPEL.     THE 


(  432  ) 


GOSPEL.     THE 


A  parting  of  the  whole  mass  of  us,  some  on  one  side, 
and  some  on  the  other.  As  when  you  take  a  magnet, 
and  hold  it  to  an  indisciiminale  heap  of  metal 
filings,  it  will  gather  out  all  the  iron,  and  leave 
behind  all  the  rest  !  "  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,"  said  He, 
"will  draw  all  men  unto  Me."  The  attractive  power 
will  go  out  over  the  whole  race  of  His  brethren  ; 
but  from  some  there  will  be  no  response.  In  some 
hearts  there  will  be  no  yielding  to  the  attraction. 
Some  will  remain  rooted,  obstinate,  steadfast  in  their 
place  ;  and  to  some  the  lightest  word  will  be  mighty 
enough  to  stir  all  the  slumbering  pulses  of  tlieir 
sin-ridden  hearts,  and  to  bring  them,  broken  and 
penitent,  for  mercy  to  His  feet.  To  the  one  He  is 
*'  a  savour  of  life  unto  life,  and  to  the  other  a  savour 
of  death  unto  death."  The  broadest  doctrine  of  the 
universal  adaptation,  and  the  universal  intention, 
too,  of  the  Gospel,  as  the  "power  of  God  unto 
salvation,"  contains  hidden  in  its  de]3ths  this  un- 
deniable fact,  that,  be  the  cause  what  it  may  (and, 
as  I  believe,  the  cause  lies  with  us,  and  is  our  tault), 
this  separating,  judging  effect  follows  from  all 
faithful  preaching  of  Christ's  words.  He  came  to 
judge  the  world,  "that  they  which  see  not  (as  He 
Himself  said)  might  see,  and  that  they  which  see 
might  be  made  blind.''  And  on  the  cross  that 
process  went  on  in  two  men,  alike  in  necessity,  alike 
in  criminality,  alike  in  this,  that  Death's  icy  finger 
was  just  being  laid  upon  their  hearts,  to  stop  all  the 
flow  of  its  wild  blood  and  passion,  but  different  in 
this,  that  the  one  of  them  turned  himself,  by  God's 
grace,  and  laid  hold  of  the  Gospel  that  was  offered 
to  him,  and  the  other  turned  himself  away,  and 
derided,  and  died.  — Maclarcn. 

14.  To  what  its  success  is  to  be  attributed. 

(2443.)  Our  dispute  is  not  whether  the  Gospel  be 
a  suitable  means  in  the  hand  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
convert  a  sinner,  but  wiiether  it  is  sufficient,  in 
virtue  of  this  its  suitableness,  to  effect  the  change 
without  an  almiglity  and  invincible  agency  attending 
it.  A  sword  is  a  suitable  instrument  to  cause  a 
wound  ;  but  it  does  not  thence  follow  that  it  is  of 
itself  sufficient  to  effect  this  without  a  hand  to  wield 
it.     Three  things  1  would  here  beg  leave  to  offer  : 

(l.)  The  Holy  Spirit  can  and  does  make  use  of 
the  law  as  well  as  the  Gospel,  in  a  sinner's  con- 
version. "  I  had  not  known  sin,''  says  the  apostle, 
"but  by  the  law."  "The  law  is  a  schoolmaster  to 
bring  us  to  Christ." 

(2. )  If  the  success  of  the  Gospel  is  to  be  attributed 
to  its  suitableness,  then  I  sup[)ose,  it  must  be  on 
account  of  its  containing  good  tidings ;  and  so 
tending  to  slay  men's  native  enmity,  and  to  conciliate 
their  hearts  to  God.  But  the  Scripture  represents 
the  human  heart  as  equally  prone  to  abuse  God's 
mercy  as  to  despise  His  severity.  "  Let  favour  be 
showed  to  the  wicked,"  says  the  prophet,  "yet  will 
he  not  learn  righteousness  :  in  the  land  of  upright- 
ness will  he  deal  unjustly,  and  will  not  behold  the 
majesty  of  the  Lord."  The  reason  why  men  hate 
God  is  not  because  they  consider  Him,  in  every 
sense,  as  their  enemy  ;  if  so,  couM  you  but  persuade 
them  that  God  loved  them,  and  Christ  died  for 
them,  their  enmity  would  subside.  But  is  that 
indeed  the  case?  Do  not  the  generality  of  men 
consider  God  as  their  friend  ?  Nor  can  you  persuade 
them  that  they  are  under  His  displeasure.  Yet 
this  h;is  no  tendency  to  remove  their  enmity.  What 
they  hate  in  God  is  that  from  which  their  hearts  are 
wholly  averse,  and  that  is,  His  true  character. 


(3.)  The  success  which  has  attended  the  Gospel 
is  not  ascribed  to  its  supposed  fitness  to  conciliate  a 
sinner's  heart,  but  to  the  power  of  Almighty  God 
attending  it.  I  hope  this  last  has  been  sufficiently 
proved  already.  God  ordered  Moses  to  take  a  rod, 
and  smite  the  rock.  The  rod,  to  be  sure,  was  the 
means  of  breaking  the  rock,  not,  however,  on 
account  of  its  being  equal  to  such  an  effect  ;  the  rock 
rather  had  a  tendency  to  break  the  rod  than  the  rod 
the  rock.  But  an  almighty  energy  attended  it  from 
Him  with  whom  all  things  are  possible. 

— Fuller,  1 754-181 5. 

15.  The  permanence  of  its  Influence. 

(2444.)  It  is  not  merely  as  a  subtle  and  diffused 
influence  that  the  Gospel  establishes  a  permanent 
effect  upon  us.  It  is  presented  to  each  of  us  here 
individually,  in  the  definite  form  of  an  actual  offer 
of  salvation  for  each,  and  of  an  actual  demand  of 
trust  from  each.  The  words  pass  into  our  souls, 
and  thenceforv,ard  it  can  never  be  the  same  as  if 
they  had  not  been  there.  The  smallest  particle  of 
light  falling  on  the  sensitive  plate  produces  a  chemi- 
cal change  that  can  never  be  undone  again,  and  the 
light  of  Christ's  love  once  brought  to  the  knowledge 
and  presented  for  the  acceptance  of  a  soul,  stamps 
on  it  an  ineffaceable  sign  of  its  having  been  there. 
The  Gospel  once  heard,  is  always  the  Gospel  which 
has  been  heard.  Nothing  can  alter  that.  Once 
heard,  it  is  henceforward  a  perpetual  element  iij 
the  whole  condition,  character,  and  destiny  of  thf 
hearer.  — Maclaren, 

16.  Symbols  of  the  Gospel. 

(2445.)  ^ 'i^  Gospel  is  like  leaven,  sour  to  the 
natural  spirit,  yet  makes  him  holy  bread.  .  .  . 
As  leaven  spreads  into  the  whole  lump,  so  the 
Gospel  regenerates  the  whole  man. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(2446.)  "I  am  come  to  send  fire  on  the  earth." 
A  fire  is  a  power.  What  a  reality,  what  a  vitality,  , 
what  a  sweeping  and  resistless  strength  resides  in 
that  element  of  fire.  How  it  spreads,  and  glows, 
and  rages,  ar.d  devours  !  How  it  strides  from  point 
to  point,  from  wood  to  stone,  from  gallery  to  wall, 
from  floor  to  tower,  licking,  and  ilevouring,  and 
consuming,  while  a  whole  population  cowers  before 
it,  and  can  only  stand  idly  by,  beholding  and 
weeping  over  its  work  !  Now,  I  say  that,  when  the 
Gospel  is  called  a  fire  sent  upon  the  earth,  we  shall 
do  well  to  remember  that  a  fire  is  a  power ;  not  a 
name,  not  an  idea,  not  a  poor,  faint,  creeping  thing 
which  may  be  disregarded  and  let  alone,  because  at 
any  moment  human  exeriic^  can  interpose  and  put 
it  down  ;  but  a  great,  an  active,  at  least  a  domineer- 
ing and  irresistible  force,  against  which  all  the  skill 
and  all  the  strength  in  the  world  is  as  powerless  as 
an  infant's  touch.  Never  suppose  that  the  Gospel 
is  an  insignificant  or  despicable  thing  ;  whatever 
else  it  is  or  is  not,  it  is  certainly  not  that.  The 
Gospel  is  a  fire  ;  and  what  a  fire  is,  you  know  and 
you  have  seen.  — C.  y.  Vau^han. 

17.  Nothing'  else  will  satisfy  believers. 
(2447.)  Take  away  a  toy  from  a  child,  and  give 

him  anotlier,  and  he  is  satisfied  ;  but  if  he  be  hungry 
no  toy  will  do.  As  new-boin  babes,  true  believeo- 
desire  the  sincere  milk  of  the  Word  ;  and  the  desire 
of  grace  in  this  way  is  grace. 

— Newton,  1 725-1807. 


GOSPEL.     THE 


(    423    ) 


GOSPEL.     THE 


la.  It  iB  our  duty  to  spread  It. 

(2448.)  Huber,  the  great  naturalist,  tells  us,  that 
If  a  single  wasp  discovers  a  deposit  of  honey  or 
other  food,  he  will  return  to  his  nest,  and  impart 
the  good  news  10  his  companions,  who  will  sally 
forth  in  great  numbers  to  partake  of  the  fare  which 
has  been  discovered  for  them.  Shall  we  who  have 
found  honey  in  the  rock  Christ  Jesus,  be  less  con- 
sideiate  of  our  fellowmen  than  wasps  are  of  their 
fellow  insects?  Ought  we  not  rather  like  the 
Samaritan  woman  to  hasten  to  tell  the  good  news? 
Common  humanity  should  prevent  one  of  us  from 
concealing  tiie  great  discovery  which  grace  has  en- 
abled us  to  make.  — Spurgeon. 

19.  Fear  for  it  Is  not  Inconsistent  with  faith 
In  it. 

(2449.)  The  hearts  of  God's  people  have  ever 
been  alternating,  as  St.  Paul's  did,  between  faitli  in 
the  (jospel  and  fear  for  the  Gospel.  Men  have 
asked  us,  as  they  asked  him,  "How  can  you  recon- 
cile the  intensity  ol  your  faith  in  the  Divinity  of  your 
religion  with  the  nervousness  of  your  fear  for  its 
success?  If  your  Christianity  be  a  Divine  thing, 
why  are  you  Christians  so  afraid  of  the  unbelief  and 
godlessness  in  the  world  ?  Why  not  trust  God  with 
His  religion?  And  if  you  are  so  much  afraid,  how 
can  you  tell  us  it  is  Divine?"  The  answer  to  this 
is  a  very  simple  one,  and  it  is  one  which  needs  to 
be  remembered  in  all  times  of  the  Church's  history  ; 
never  more  than  when  we  are  starting  a  new  work 
for  God.  We  are  afraid  for  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  not  because  it  is  not  Divine,  but  because  it 
is.  It  is  just  because  it  is  the  Gosjiel  of  God  ;  it  is 
just  because  it  comes  down  from  heaven  to  earth 
that  we  are  afraid  for  it.  The  world  may  be  trusted 
to  provide  for  its  own.  The  product  of  the  world's 
soil  grows  naturally,  as  the  weeds  or  wilder  fruit 
grow.  But  the  Divine  teaching,  the  Divine  gift, 
is  not  of  this  world's  growth.  It  is  a  foreign  plant ; 
it  is  an  exotic.  It  comes  from  another  clime,  and  it 
is  entrusted  to  us  to  tend,  to  water,  to  train,  to 
prune  ;  and  just  because  it  will  not  thrive  without 
care  or  without  culture,  and  because  to  our  trem- 
bling hands  has  been  committed  the  care  and  culture 
of  the  Divine  gift,  we  fear.  It  is  just  because  the 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  earth  that  we  fear  for  it.  It 
is  because  it  is  the  ark  of  God  we  carry  that  we 
tremble,  as  we  put  our  hands  to  it,  to  lift  it  up  and 
carry  it  into  the  battle  of  our  day.  The  ark  shall 
nevei  p<iT<sh,  but  yet  the  hands  that  carry  it  may 
falter,  and  for  a  titn*i  let  it  fall  into  the  hands  of  its 
enemii.s.  The  Church  of  Christ  shall  never  perish, 
but  there  is  no  promise  that  the  living  branch  shall 
not  be  scathed  here  and  there  by  the  storm  of  un- 
belief and  godlessness.  The  kingdom  of  Christ 
shall  never  perish,  but  there  is  no  promise  that  some 
part  of  it  shall  not  grievously  err  from  the  faith. 
Thus  it  is  because  of  the  preciousness  of  the  treasure 
that  we  hold  in  earthen  vessels,  because  the  treasure 
is  Divine  and  the  vessels  earthen  and  fragile — the 
potter'.s  vessels  it  is  borne  in — that  we  rejoice  and 
yet  tremble  as  we  receive  in  trust  this  gilt  from  God. 

— Alagee. 

20.  Tlio  great  hindrance  to  Its  progress. 

(2450.)  The  small  progress  and  scanty  triumphs 
of  that  Go;;pel  are  not  owing  to  its  inherent  weak- 
ness, nor  to  the  fewness  of  its  friends.  The  Gospel 
U  mighty.     The  truth  of  eternity — the  power  of  God 


is  in  it  :  and  its  belifev^ers  are  many — perhaps  nevei 
so  numerous  as  now  ;  and  their  aggregate  resources 
are  immense.  It  is  astonishing,  when  you  con- 
sider the  amount  of  learning,  and  intellectual  elo- 
quence, and  social  influence — it  is  delightful  to 
recount  the  various  accomplishments  and  talents 
which,  in  one  form  and  another,  and  within  this  living 
age,  have  been  laid  at  the  Saviour's  feel.  And 
whilst  the  Church  is  numerous  aud  powerful,  there 
is  no  lack  of  zeal.  There  is  vitality,  and  there  is 
energy,  and  sometimes  stupendous  exertion ;  but 
the  misery  is  that  so  much  of  it  is  zeal  misspent — 
that  so  much  of  it  is  energy  devoted  to  mutual  de- 
struction. The  elastic  vapour  which  murmurs  in  tlie 
earthquake,  or  explodes  in  the  mud-volcano,  if  pro- 
perly secured  and  turned  on  in  the  right  direction, 
might  send  the  navy  of  an  empire  all  round  the 
world,  or  clothe  with  plenty  an  industrious  realm. 
And  the  zeal  which  has  hitherto  rumbled  in  ecclesi- 
astical earthquakes,  and  left  no  nobler  mementoes 
than  so  many  steaming  cones — so  many  mud-craters, 
on  tlie  sides  of  the  great  controversial  JoruUo — if 
rightly  directed,  might  long  before  this  time  have 
sent  the  Gospel  all  over  the  globe,  and  covered  a 
rejoicing  earth  svith  the  fruits  of  righteousness.  The 
river  which"  Ezekiel  saw  was  a  tiny  rill  when  it  first 
escaped  from  the  temple,  but  a  course  of  a  thousand 
cubits  made  it  ankle-deep,  and  a  few  more  furlongs 
saw  it  a  river  that  he  could  not  iiassover — the  waters 
were  waters  to  swim  in.  And  this  is  the  course  of 
the  Gospel  when  Christians  do  not  hinder  it.  Bat 
instead  of  clearing  the  common  channel,  and  streng- 
thening the  main  embankments  for  its  universal 
and  world-gladdening  flow,  the  effort  hitherto  has 
been  to  divert  it  all  into  denominational  reservoirs. 
Eaclr  one  has  gone  with  his  spade  and  his  pickaxe 
— has  breached  the  grand  embankment,  and  tried 
to  tempt  the  mighty  stream  into  his  own  more  ortho- 
dox canal.  And  the  consequence  of  these  sectarian 
efforts — these  poor  attempts  to  monopolise  the 
Gospel — the  consequence  is,  that,  like  a  certain  river 
in  the  southern  hemisphere,  which  has  only  been 
known  to  reach  the  ocean  once  during  the  last 
thirty  years — betwixt  the  scorching  secularity  over- 
head, and  the  selfish  interruptions  of  the  stream,  it 
is  only  now  and  then  that  the  Gospel  is  allowed  to 
flow  far  enough  to  fertilise  new  territory,  and  gladden 
weary  souls. 

But  a  day  is  coming,  and  in  these  movements  we 
hail  its  dawn.  Instead  of  monopolising  or  dividing 
the  stream — instead  of  breaking  its  banks,  or  inter- 
rupting its  course — our  individual  and  our  united 
efforts  shall  hereafter  seek  to  clear  its  channel  and 
deepen  its  flow  ;  and  the  work  of  our  different  de- 
nominations shall  be,  not  to  pierce  the  bank  or  dig 
diverting  canals,  but  each  to  strengthen  the  enclos- 
ing mounds,  and  remove  the  interrupting  rocks  as 
it  sweeps  alongside  of  their  respective  territories. 
Thus  acting,  thus  seeking  not  our  own  things,  but 
the  things  of  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  soon  behold  the 
little  stream  which  welled  up  Jerusalem  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago,  holding  on  in  its  prosperous 
course.  W^e  shall  see  life  leaping  in  its  suimy  ripple, 
and  a  joyful  world  resorting  to  its  genial  current ;  wc 
shall  see  one  flock  reposing  on  its  green  margin,  and 
besides  its  still  waters  One  Shepherd  leading  tbem. 
And,  best  of  all,  on  its  teeming  brink  we  shall  again 
behold  the  long  exotic  Tree  of  Life — its  laden 
branches  mirrored  in  the  tranquil  tide,  and  shower- 
ing on  the  azure  amplitudes  its  leaves  of  heavenly 
healing.  Hamilton,  1814-1865. 


GRACE. 


tl.  Its  ultimate  trlmnpb. 


C    424    ) 


GRACE. 


(2451.)  At  first  but  a  beam  of  light  is  seen  to 
glimmer  in  the  midst  of  tlie  darkness  And  the 
nii^lit  still  seems  to  hold  its  undisturbed  sway.  But 
the  beam  becomes  slowly  a  streak  of  light  shooting 
its  way  in  the  path  of  heaven.  It  becomes  more 
fixed  and  determinate  in  its  character  ;  it  increases, 
it  is  a  glowing  light.  There  is  a  mass  of  darkness 
still  around,  and  clouds  yet  hang  about  it  ;  but  it 
contends  successfully  with  the  darkness,  still  it 
jienetrates,  still  it  breaks  through  the  hideous  mass  ; 
the  contest  is  no  longer  doubtful,  and  the  clouds 
and  sliadows  flee  away.  But  the  rising  beam  at  first 
so  faintly  seen,  and  dimly  visible,  would  have  been 
soon  lost  and  overwhelmed  in  the  darkness  which 
it  invaded,  if  it  had  not  been  a  beam  from  an  exhaust- 
less  fountain  of  light,  the  sun,  that  continued  to 
send  forth  supplies  of  strength,  by  adding  beam 
upon  beam.  And  now  it  pours  out  its  effulgent  rays, 
and  now  this  dawning  beam  is  become  a  bright  and 
glorious  sun,  ascending  majestically  through  the 
heavens,  the  mii^hty  creative  principle  of  fruitfulness, 
npenmg,  maturing,  and  enriching  the  vegetable 
kingdom,  and  in  its  briglitness  showing  forth  a  faint 
image  of  its  Maker's  glory.  In  like  manner  the  first 
manifestation  of  the  Gospel  is  like  that  little  beam 
of  light.  The  land  which  it  visits  is  involved  in  the 
deepest  shades  of  darkness.  A  mental  and  spiritual 
midnight  rests  upon  it.  But  it  becomes  a  growing 
light,  and  as  it  flashes  its  beams  around,  it  only 
serves  to  make  more  visible  the  darkness  and  misery 
of  the  benighted  inhabitants.  What  though  its 
enemies  deny  it  to  be  the  true  light— and  though 
all  the  clouds  of  heathen  darkness  and  superstition 
overhang  its  pathway,  yet  it  still  contends,  and  con- 
tends successfully,  penetrating  the  foul  and  hideous 
mass  of  corruption  around  it.  And  so  this  little 
beam  would  have  been  long  since  overwhelmed  and 
swallowed  up,  if  it  had  not  been  supplied  from  the 
exliaustless  fountain  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  ;  if 
it  had  not  the  promise,  "  Thy  light  shall  no  more  go 
down  ;"  yes,  and  soon  this  increasing  light  is  destined 
to  ascend  the  heavens,  and  fill  the  whole  horizon 
with  its  beams.  Like  the  natural  sun  it  shall  con- 
tinue its  noble  and  majestic  course  till  its  light  shall 
fall  upon  every  darkened  nook  of  the  habitable 
world,  manifesting  itself,  as  it  everywhere  rolls  its 
course,  the  mighty  creative  principle  of  fruitfulness, 
enriching  the  world,  civilismg  it  with  true  know- 
ledge, and  making  it  to  flourish  everywhere  with 
the  fruits  of  peace,  happiness,  good  will  and  love  to 
God  and  man  : — a  sun  that  shall  never  go  down, 
but  continue  to  shine  till  the  light  ol  grace  is  lost 
and  swallowed  up  in  the  more  illustrious  splendours 
of  the  light  of  glory.  — i^aldr. 


GRACE. 

I.    CONSIDERED     AS    A     DIVINE    ENERGY 
WORKING   IN    THE   SOUL. 
1.  The  mode  of  its  operation. 

(2452.)  Grace  does  not  pluck  up  by  the  roots  and 
wholly  destroy  the  natural  passions  of  the  mind,  be- 
cause they  are  distempered  by  sin.  That  were  an 
extreme  remedy,  to  cure  by  killing,  and  to  heal  by 
cutting  oil.  No  ;  but  it  corrects  the  distemper  in 
them.  It  dries  not  up  the  main  stre»m  of  love,  but 
purifies  it  from  the  mud  it  is  full  of  in  its  wrong 
course,  or  calls  it  to  its  right  channel,  dv  which  it 


may  run  into  happiness,  and  empty  itself  in  the 
ocean  of  goodness.  Leighton,  1681  -1684. 

2.  Tlie  transformations  It  effects. 

(2453.)  Take  a  river  :  Let  it  be  dammed  and 
stopped  up,  yet  if  the  course  of  it  be  natural,  if  the 
vent  and  stream  of  it  be  to  go  downward,  at  length 
it  will  overbear,  and  ride  triumphantly  over.  Or 
let  water  that  is  sweet  be  made  brackish  by  the 
coming  in  of  salt  water  ;  yet,  if  it  naturally  be 
sweet,  at  length  it  will  work  it  out.  So  it  is  with 
every  man.  Look  what  the  constant  stream  of 
his  disposition  is,  look  what  the  frame  of  it  is; 
that  which  is  most  natural  and  inward  to  a  man, 
though  it  may  be  dammed  up  and  stopped  in  such 
a  course  for  a  while,  yet  it  will  break  through  all  at 
the  last  ;  and  though  there  be  some  brackish,  some 
sinful  dispositions  that  may  break  in  upon  a  man, 
yet  he,  by  the  grace  of  God,  will  wear  them  out,  be- 
cause his  natural  disposition,  the  frame  of  his  heart, 
runs  another  way.  — Preston,  15S7-1628, 

(2454.)  A  rough  jewel  lay  in  the  sand  among 
many  common  stones.  A  boy  picked  up  some  of 
these  to  use  them  for  playthings,  and  took  them 
home  together  with  the  jewel ;  but  he  did  not  know 
this.  The  boy's  father  looked  on  when  he  was 
playing  ;  he  perceived  the  rough  jewel,  and  said  to 
his  son,  "  Give  me  that  stone." 

The  boy  did  so,  and  smiled,  for  he  thought, 
"  What  is  my  father  going  to  do  with  this  stone?" 

The  father  took  the  si  one  and  polished  it  skilfully 
into  regular  planes  and  angles,  and  behold  a 
diamond  glittered  brilliantly. 

"See,"  said  the  father,  "here  is  the  stone  yo« 
gave  me." 

The  boy  wondered  at  the  splendour  and  brilliancy 
of  the  stone,  and  exclaimed,  "  My  father,  how  could 
you  accomplish  this?" 

The  father  said,  "I  knew  the  hidden  virtue,  and 
the  value  of  the  stone;  therefore  I  freed  it  from  its 
coating  of  dross.  Now  it  sparkles  with  its  natural 
radiance." 

When  the  boy  had  increased  in  years,  the  father 
gave  him  the  precious  stone,  as  an  emblem  of  the 
worth  and  dignity  of  life. 

— F.   A.  Krtanmacher. 

3.  It  cannot  be  hid. 

(2455.)  Grace,  like  fire,  cannot  be  hid  ;  you  may 
as  soon  conceal  musk  in  your  hand  as  grace  in  your 
heart.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

4.  Its  fruits  are  unmistakable. 

(2456.)  Fruits  are  infallible  evidence  of  the  nature 
of  the  tree  that  brings  them  forth.  Therefore,  if 
these  are  good,  the  tree  is  certainly  good,  an  en- 
grafted tree.  \l  there  be  fervent  desires,  pantings, 
and  breathings  of  the  soul  after  God,  delight  in  the 
Word  and  ordinances,  love  to  God  and  His  people, 
secret  goings  out  of  the  soul  after,  and  closing  with 
spiritual  things,  disliking  and  hating  corruptions,  and 
whatsoever  is  against  the  mind  of  God,  and  opposing 
of  it,  with  a  rising  of  spirit  against  it,  with  zeal  and 
indignation ;  if  there  be  a  secret  joy  and  cheerfulness 
in  the  spirit  when  things  go  well  with  the  people  of 
God,  when  holiness  and  the  power  of  godliness  is 
like  to  be  set  up,  promoted,  and  encouraged,  and 
sin  suppressed  ;  if  the  spirit  be  stirred  to  piay 
against  the  dominion  and  power  of  wicked  and 
unregenerate  men,  not  only  such  as  are  profane,  but 
also  such  as  are  but  morally  honest,  yea  though  they 


GRACE. 


(    425    ) 


GRACE. 


be  accomplished  with  the  utmost  of  natural  and 
moral  endowments,  priring  and  preferring  sincerity 
and  holiness  in  any  person,  before  all  gifts  without 
grace.  These  fruits  (I  say)  are  infallible  evidences 
of  a  good  tree,  of  a  tree  engrafted  into  Christ,  and 
that  soul  that  finds  them  in  itself  (if  the  Spirit  of 
God  shine  upon  them  and  show  them)  may  as  cer- 
tainly conclude  upon  the  truth  of  grace  tliere,  as  if 
an  angel  were  sent  from  God  to  'ell  such  a  one, 
that  he  is  beloved  of  God. 

It  is  as  possible  in  nature  for  thorns  to  bring  forth 
grapes,  or  thistles  figs,  as  for  a  bad  tree  (a  person 
out  of  Christ)  to  bring  forth  these  fruits.  Let  not 
such  souls,  therefore,  so  dishonour  God,  wrong 
themselves,  and  gratify  Satan,  as  to  question  the 
truth  of  grace  in  themselves  ;  but  rejoice  evermore, 
because  their  names  are  written  in  heaven.  Hereby 
we  know  we  are  translated  from  death  to  life,  be- 
cause of  these  fruits.  — Austen. 

6.  Its  conflicts. 

(2457.)  The  dispensation  of  grace  to  some  is  little 
more  than  a  continual  combat  with  corruptions  ;  so 
that,  instead  of  advancing,  a  man  seems  to  be  but 
just  able  to  preserve  himself  from  sinking.  A  boat, 
with  the  tide  full  against  it,  does  well  if  it  can  keep 
from  driving  back,  and  must  have  strong  force 
indeed  to  get  forward.  We  must  estimate  grace  by 
the  opposition  which  it  meets  with. 

— Cecil,  1 748-1810. 

(2458.)  It  is  the  nature  of  all  the  works  of  God's 
creation  to  seek,  and  to  go  on  to,  their  perfection. 
The  first  dawn  of  morn  continues  to  increase  until 
it  shines  in  the  noontide  radiance.  The  feeble  plant 
which  is  just  breaking  the  clod,  continues  to  grow 
until  in  the  course  of  years  it  stands  a  flourishing 
and  a  stately  tree.  In  the  animal  kingdom  we  see 
God's  creatures  gradually  emerging  from  the  weak- 
ness and  insignificance  of  infancy,  and  rising,  where 
no  obstructions  exist,  into  the  vigour  and  maturity 
of  age.  And  shall  the  light  go  on  to  perfection,  the 
plant  and  the  flower  to  blossom,  the  tree  to  bring 
forth  its  fruit ;  and  all  God's  creatures  grow  up  and 
flourish  each  its  own  perfection — and  grace — the 
Immortal  plant  of  grace — "the  incorruptible  seed," 
which  is  to  "live  and  abide  for  ever," — this  little 
tree  of  the  Lord's  own  planting — shall  this  alone  be 
denied  the  benefits  of  God's  universal  law, — let  all 
things  grow  until  the  harvest?  No!  grace  has  its 
destined  perfection.  True  grace  is  a  seed  which, 
though  sown  in  a  lowly  soil,  will  soon  manifest  its 
heavenly  origin.  It  will  infallibly  spring  forth,  and 
be  ever  aspiring  to  ascend  upwards,  until  it  climbs 
the  skies,  and  there  transplanted,  shall  bloom  in  the 
courts  of  the  Lord  for  ever.  — Salter. 

(2459.)  Our  old  corrupt  nature  iseventually  destined 
to  fall  before  the  power  of  grace.  Its  case  is  that  of 
an  ancient  castle  that  had  been  for  days  assaulted  by 
the  battering-ram.  It  was  long  before  the  stroke 
of  that  engine  made  any  sensible  impression,  but 
the  continual  repetition  at  t/^ngth  communicated  a 
slight  tremor  to  the  wall  :  the  next,  and  the  next, 
and  the  next  blow  increased  it.  Another  shock 
put  the  whole  mass  in  motion,  from  the  top  to 
the  foundation ;  it  bends  forward,  and  is  every 
moment  driven  farther  from  the  perpendicular,  till 
at  last  the  decisive  blow  is  given,  and  down  it 
comes.  And  so  must  fall  the  strong  tower  of  corrup- 
tion. At  first  it  seems  to  defy  the  efforts  of  grace  ; 
but  by  little  and  little  its  wall  gives  way,  for  "  the 


weapons"  in  the  divine  warfare  are  mighty  through 
God  for  the  pulling  down  of  these  strongholds  ;  till 
at  last  it  shall  be  shaken  to  its  df^ep  fonndationj, 
and  fail  a  glorious  ruin  for  the  sal.it  to  reif^ice  f/vcr. 
"  We  shall  be  satisfied  with  His  likeness.  ' 

— Salter. 

II.  CONSIDERED  AS  ClIRISTJAN  CHA- 
RACTEf^. 

1.  Its  source. 

(2460.)  As  in  nature  there  is  one  common  influ- 
ence from  heaven,  but  yet  variety  of  flowers,  violets, 
roses,  gilliflowers,  spices,  all  sweet  in  their  several 
kind,  with  a  different  kind  of  sweetness  ;  so  all 
graces  have  their  beginning  from  the  common  influ- 
ences of  Christ's  Spirit,  though  they  differ  one  from 
another  ;  and  are  all  accepted  of  the  "  Father  of 
lights,"  from  whence  they  come. 

— Sibbes,  1 577- 1 63  5. 

(2461.)  There  is  never  a  grace  but  it  is  beautiful 
and  fair  ;  for  what  is  grace  but  the  beams  of  Chri.st, 
the  Sun  of  righteousness  ?      — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(2462.)  The  sea  enters  into  the  rivers  before  the 
rivers  can  run  into  the  sea.  In  like  manner,  God 
comes  to  us  before  we  go  to  Him  ;  and  heaven  enters 
into  our  souls  before  we  can  enter  into  heaven. 

— Drelincourt,  1666. 

2.  Adorns  the  soul. 

(2463.)  Grace  sheds  a  glory  and  lustre  upon  the 
soul.  As  the  diamond  to  the  ring,  so  is  grace  to 
the  soul.  A  heart  beautified  with  grace  hath  the 
King  of  heaven's  picture  hung  in  it. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

3.  How  It  Is  wrought  In  the  soul. 

(2464.)  Many  pray  to  be  made  "men  in  Christ 
Jesus,"  and  think  in  some  miraculous  way  it  will  be 
given  to  them  ;  but  God  says,  "  I  will  try  M7  child, 
and  see  if  he  is  sincere,"  and  so  He  lays  a  burden 
upon  Him,  and  says,  "  Now.  stand  up  under  it,  for 
thus  you  are  to  grow  strong. "  He  sends  a  provo- 
cation, and  says  to  him,  "  Be  patient."  He  throws 
him  into  perplexities,  and  says,  "  Where  now  are 
thy  resources?"  If  the  ambitious  ore  dreads  the 
furnace,  the  forge,  the  anvil,  the  rasp,  and  the  file, 
it  should  never  desire  to  be  made  a  sword.  Man  \t 
the  iron,  and  God  is  the  smith  ;  and  we  are  always 
either  in  tlie  forge  or  on  the  anvil.  God  is  shaping 
us  for  higher  things.  — Beeclur. 

{2465.)  You  pray  for  the  graces  of  faith  and 
hope  and  love  ;  but  prayer  alone  will  not  bring 
them.  They  must  be  wrought  in  you  through  labour 
and  patience  and  sufi"ering. 

A  garden  has  heard  that  the  royal  garden  has  a 
fountain,  and  sends  up  a  petition  to  the  head 
gardener  that  it  may  have  a  fountain  too.  He 
favours  the  request,  and  comes  with  workmen  and 
the  necessary  implements  to  make  it.  The  flower 
beds  are  torn  up,  the  turf  is  cut  and  removed,  the 
earth  is  thrown  out  in  piles,  and  the  astonished 
garden  exclaims,  "What  is  this?  you  are  killing  all 
my  violets  and  roses."  And  now  the  boring  com- 
mences, down  through  the  quicksands  and  the  sur- 
face soil,  till  a  bed  of  rock  is  gamed.  Then,  when 
the  severer  drilling  begins,  the  terrified  garden  cries 
out,  "  My  foundations  will  be  destroyed  !  I  thought  I 
was  to  have  a  fountain."  A  small  stream  uf  water 
appears,  but  the  gardener  knows  it  would  not  ai« 


GRACE. 


(    426    ) 


GRACE. 


ways  flow,  and  so  he  penetrates  the  earth  yet 
turiher,  till  at  last,  hundreds  of  feet  below  the  surface, 
he  reaches  unfailing  springs.  Now  the  pipes  are 
brought,  and  when  they  are  adjusted,  the  earth 
is  thrown  back,  the  stones  are  removed,  the  turf  is 
replaced,  the  ground  is  swept,  and  the  flowers 
returned  to  their  beds  ;  and  day  in  and  day  out  the 
fountain  plays,  falling  into  its  marble  basin  with 
ceaseless  shower.  The  plants  revive  in  its  cooling 
spray,  the  birils  come  to  sing  to  its  music,  and  the- 
whole  garden  rejoices  in  its  beauty. 

Now,  who  is  willing  that  God  should  bore  in  his 
heart  for  the  graces  of  faith,  and  hope,  and  love? 
You  pray  for  them,  but  when  God  begins  to  work, 
you  cry  out,  "O  Lord  !  save  my  flower  beds.  You 
are  killing  all  my  violets  and  roses."  Yet  only 
through  this  working  are  the  wells  of  salvation  dug 
in  our  hearts,  and  the  living  waters  made  to  flow. 

— Beecher. 

(2466.)  Every  man  that  has  cultivated  fruit  knows 
that  no  tree  can  bear  very  rich  the  first  year.  The 
first  year  a  tree  bears,  the  fruit  is  of  the  lowest 
quality  ;  the  second  year  it  is  a  little  better  ;  the 
third  year  it  is  still  better  ;  the  fourth  year  it  is  better 
yet  ;  and  it  continues  to  improve  every  year  until 
the  tenth  ;  and  then  you  begin  to  know  what 
is  the  best  thing  that  tree  can  do.  Trees  have  to  go 
througii  a  maturing  process  of  ten  years'  duration, 
before  they  can  bear  fruit  of  the  highest  flavours. 

So  it  is  with  Christians  and  Christian  graces. 
You  cannot  bear  high  spiritual  fruit  until  the  spirit 
of  Christ  has  dwelt  with  you,  so  as  to  form  the  very 
wood  and  fibre  of  your  Hie.  It  is  not  until  you 
have  borne  the  fruits  of  Christian  life  and  conduct 
year  after  year,  that  you  can  bring  them  forth  in 
their  highest  state  of  development. 

Besitles,  there  are  some  things  that  no  mere  flush 
touches,  just  as  low  degrees  of  heat  do  not  affect  the 
roots  of  some  plants.  Some  plants — for  instance, 
the  chick-weed  — feel  the  influence  ot  spring  in 
March.  They  shake  hands  with  the  frost,  and  say, 
"  How  do  you  do?"  to  the  snow.  Others  do  not 
feel  anything  till  the  next  month  comes  along.  As  a 
sleeper,  when  called,  knows  that  something  disturbs 
him,  and  begins  to  turn  himself;  so  the  roots  of 
these  plants,  when  April  invites  them  to  come  forth, 
know  that  something  is  rousing  them,  and  com- 
mence to  bestir  themselves.  It  is  not  until  June 
makes  its  appearance  that  they  begin  to  lift  up  their 
heads  ;  and  they  are  not  above  the  ground  before 
the  middle  of  June.  July  and  August  develop  the 
Stalk  and  branches  and  buds  ;  and  September 
gives  us  the  flower  that  would  not  show  itself  till 
the  whole  summer  had  passed. 

So  it  is  in  respect  to  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit. 
Some  come  quick  and  early,  at  the  first  touches  of 
divine  grace  ;  and  some  not  until,  through  a  long 
summer  of  experience,  the  rays  of  the  Sun  of  right- 
eousness have  penetrated  the  deepest  parts  of  the 
soul.  Then  you  can  gather  the  mo.-t  beautiful  fruits 
of  Christian  life.  — Beecher. 

4.  How  it  Is  maintained  In  the  soul. 

(2467.)  Grace  in  the  saints  is  not  like  light  in  the 
sun,  that  springs  from  itself,  but  like  the  light  of  a 
lamp  that  is  constantly  fed  with  supplies  of  oil, 
otherwise  the  weak  light  ivill  faint  and  die.  In- 
herent grace  is  maintained  by  the  coniinual  emana- 
tions from  the  Holy  Spirit  :  nay,  the  habits  of  grace 
we  drawm  forth  int  j  active  and  vigorous  exercise. 


by  supervehement  exciting  grace,  without  which 
they  would  be  ineffective  and  useless.  As  there 
cannot  be  actual  sight  unless  the  organs  of  sight  be 
irradiated  by  light  of  the  air  ;  so  without  s[iecial 
assisting  grace  we  cannot  do  any  spiritual  good,  nor 
avoid  evd  :  we  shall  be  foiled  by  every  temptation, 
even  the  best  will  leave  God,  and  provoke  God  to 
leave  them.  — Salter,  1840. 

(246S.)  There  is  no  greater  delusion  than  the 
idea  that  all  things  are  well  with  us,  if  we  are  in  a 
state  of  grace.  The  inquiry  should  be,  whether  it 
is  grace  in  operation,  grace  in  living  exercise,  and 
daily  working  in  us.  It  is  with  grace  as  it  is  with 
fire — it  may  be  in  a  half  lifeless  and  inert  state,  and 
therefore  useless.  Fire  is  one  of  the  most  active 
agents  in  nature  with  which  we  are  acquainted. 
You  may  see  it  smouldering  in  the  ashes,  without 
any  power  to  burn  or  emit  any  heat.  Here,  though 
there  is  undoubtedly  fire  in  the  embers,  yet  in  this 
state  it  is  profitable  to  no  purpose.  But  let  its  dying 
embers  be  kindled  into  flame,  and  it  can  rend 
the  living  rocks,  control  the  mightiest  engines,  and 
prove  itself  to  be  endowed  with  the  most  astonish- 
ing power.  So  grace,  which  is  capable  of  the 
greatest  things,  may  be  in  a  dull  and  torpid  state, 
and  effect  nothing ;  and  while  in  this  state,  the 
believer  is  weak  as  another  man.  Here  is  the  pre- 
sence of  grace,  but  it  is  without  its  strength,  and  so 
far  useless.  But  let  him  siir  up  the  grace  that  is  in 
him,  and  his  soul  shall  be  clotlvjd  with  energies, 
and  endued  with  a  living  power  that  is  truly  surpris- 
ing. It  is  nature  now  rising  out  of  her  native 
feebleness,  a  living  active  thing  exhibiting  powers 
hitherto  unknown  to  herself,  and  cai^alile  of  passing 
on  to  perfection  till  the  believer  shall  be  filled  with 
all  the  fulness  of  God.  — Sailer. 

6.  Its  development  may  be  hindered. 

(2469.)  The  Holy  Spirit,  as  given  to  the  Church, 
and  to  each  member  of  the  Church,  is  not  an  illu« 
mination  once  for  all,  or  a  confirmation  once  for 
all,  but  a  germ  of,  and  strength  capable  of,  indefinite 
development.  It  is  potentially,  bii!  only  potfulially, 
a  revelation  of  all  truth  to  the  intellect,  and  a  com- 
munication of  all  power  to  the  will.  It  is  a  grow- 
ing and  expansive  force,  not  a  force  which  exhausts 
itsell  in  one  impulse.  In  short,  it  is  a  seed,  not  a 
full-formed  flower  ;  and  like  all  seeds,  its  growth  is 
liable  to  checks  and  drawbacks.  It  is  planted  in 
the  poor  barren  soil  of  the  human  heart,  which  by 
nature  engenders  weeds  only.  It  shoots  up  into 
the  climate  of  a  wicked  world.  And  just  as,  in  the 
world  of  nature,  plants  are  exposed  to  blight,  which 
is  said  to  be  composed  of  hosts  of  minute  insects, 
so  in  the  nioral  world  Grace  is  ajit  to  be  thwarted 
by  the  legions  of  fallen  angels,  whom  the  Scriptures 
speak  of  as  swarming  around  us  on  every  side, 
"principalities  and  powers,  and  the  rulers  of  the 
darkness  of  this  world."  What  wonder  if  the  spiritual 
development  of  the  saints  be  olten  thrown  back,  and 
if  their  best  graces  be  sadly  marred  by  infirmities? 

— Goulbum. 

6.  Weak  grace  is  real  grace. 

(2470.)  Smoke  is  of  the  same  nature  with  flame  ; 
for  what  is  flame  but  smoke  set  on  fire  ?  The  least 
spark  of  fire,  if  cherished,  will  endeavour  to  rise 
above  the  air  as  well  as  the  greatest.  So  &  little 
grace  may  be  true  jrace,  as  the  filings  of  gold  are  as 
good  gold  (though  not  so  much  of  it)  as  the  whole 
wed^c,  — jf.  Trapp,  1601-1669. 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    427     ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(2471.)  However  feeble  its  commencement,  yet 
is  it  a  reality  in  the  soul  of  man.  If  we  had 
rescued  some  poor  struggling  creature  from  the 
waves,  one  whom  we  had  watched  buffeting  with 
the  storm,  and  had  seen  sink  at  last  beneath 
the  many  waters — if  we  had  brought  him  to 
the  shore,  and  yet  could  mark  no  evidence  of 
life  in  him,  not  a  breath  stirring,  not  an  eyelid 
moving,  not  one  single  gesture  to  describe  con- 
sciousness, but  all  apparent  death — we  go  on  in 
hope,  we  use  every  means,  persevere  in  every 
remedy,  and  at  last  we  hear  one  feeble  sigh,  we  see 
the  eyelash  gently  move,  we  see  some  little  change 
in  the  features.  What  conclusion  do  we  draw  fiom 
it?  //e  lives;  he  has  life;  life  as  real  as  if  he 
walked  and  moved  ;  as  essentially  as  if  we  saw 
him  rise  in  all  the  vigour,  and  strength,  and  power 
of  health  and  animation.  Look  at  the  dead  sinner 
— there  he  stands,  "dead  in  trespasses  and  sins;" 
nothing  moves  him  ;  we  preach  to  him  the  terrors 
of  the  law,  we  speak  to  him,  though  dead,  just  as 
Kzekiel  spake  to  the  dry  bones  ;  the  mandate  goes 
forth  from  the  eternal  God,  "Go,  My  Spirit,  and 
'touch  his  heart;  go  and  enlighten  his  conscience; 
go  and  take  away  that  hard  clod  that  bears  upon 
his  affections;  go  and  convey  life  into  his  soul." 
What  is  the  effect?  He  begins  to  feel  sin;  he 
begins  now  to  cry  out,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner."  "  Lord,  save  me,  or  I  perish."  We 
begin  now  to  see  him  a  praying  man.  "  Behold 
he  prayeth."  We  fmd  that  individual  who  was 
"  enmity  against  God,  by  reason  of  his  wicked 
Works,"  now  turning  to  the  wall,  and  calling  upon 
God.  We  find  him  now  pleading  the  blood  of 
Christ — looking  to  Him  for  mercy  to  pardon,  and 
grace  to  sanctify.  This  is  a  reality.  It  is  as  real  as 
the  evil  principle  is  real  within  him.  It  is  no  fancy 
that  he  has  inherited  an  evil  principle  in  his  heart 
from  the  first  Adam  ;  so  is  it  no  fancy,  but  a  reality, 
that  he  hath  received  a  holy  principle  from  the 
second  Adam,  communicated  to  him  by  the  eternal 
Spirit.  — Salter,  1840. 

7.  Its  relation  to  glory. 

(2472.)  The  kingdom  of  grace  is  nothing  but  the 
Inchoation  or  beginning  of  the  kingdom  of  glory  ; 
the  kingdom  of  grace  is  glory  in  the  seed,  and  the 
kingdom  of  glory  is  grace  in  the  flower  ;  the  king- 
dom of  grace  is  glory  in  the  daybreak,  and  the 
kingdom  of  glory  is  grace  in  the  full  meridian  ;  the 
kingdom  of  grace  is  glory  militant,  and  the  king- 
dom of  glory  is  grace  triumphant.  There  is  such 
an  inseparable  connection  between  these  two  king- 
doms, grace  and  glory,  that  there  is  no  passing  into 
the  one  kingdom  but  by  the  other.  At  Athens 
there  were  two  temples,  a  temple  of  virtue  and  a 
temple  of  honour  ;  and  there  was  no  going  into  the 
tem|)le  of  honour,  but  through  the  temple  of  virtue  ; 
so  the  kingdoms  of  grace  and  glory  are  so  close 
joined  together,  that  we  cannot  go  into  the  kingdom 
of  glory,  but  through  the  kingdom  of  grace.  Many 
people  aspire  after  the  kingdom  of  glory,  but  never 
look  after  gface  ;  but  these  two,  which  God  hath 
joined  together,  may  not  be  put  asunder  ;  the  king- 
dom of  grace  leads  to  the  kingdom  of  glory. 

—  Watson,  1696. 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 
L    IN    WHAT  IT   CONSISTS. 
(2473.)  Growth  in  grace  doth  not  always  consist 


in  doing  of  other  works  for  the  kind,  but  in  doing 
the  same  works  over  and  over  again  better  than 
before.  As  now,  when  one  learns  to  write,  when  a 
man  hath  attained  to  a  great  perfection  in  writing, 
he  doth  not  make  other  letters  than  he  made  at 
first  ;  he  makes  the  same  letters  that  he  did,  only 
he  makes  them  better  and  sets  them  closer. 

— Brid^'e,  1 600- 1 670. 

(2474.)  Young  Christians  perform  more  duties, 
and  withal  spoil  more  duties ;  young  carpenters 
make  many  chips.  But  the  more  spiritual  your 
performances  grow,  the  more  fruit  there  is  to  be 
este-^med.  It  is  not  the  bigness  of  the  fruit,  or 
juiciness  of  them,  for  then  crabs  were  better  than 
anples,  but  the  relish  it  is  that  gives  the  commen- 
dation. And  it  is  the  end  you  have  therein  that 
puts  this  relish  into  them  :  when  your  ends  are 
raised  more  to  aim  at  God,  and  to  sanctify  them 
more,  and  to  debase  yourselves  in  a  sense  of  your 
own  vileness  and  emptiness  and  inability  ;  and  when 
your  obedience  proceeds  more  out  of  thankfulness, 
and  less  out  of  the  constraint  of  conscience.  As 
the  greatest  growth  of  wicked  men  is  in  spiritual 
wickedness,  in  which  the  Pharisees  grew,  and 
sinners  against  the  Holy  Ghost  do  grow,  when  yet 
it  mav  be  they  leave  more  gross  evils — so  the  greatest 
growth  of  grace  is  in  spiritual  holiness,  in  sanctifying 
God  much  in  the  heart,  and  "  worshipping  llim  in 
spirit  and  truth."  — Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(2475.)  I  ^f"  s"*"^  there  are  too  many  of  us,  that 
have  long  pretended  to  be  in  Christ,  who  make  little  or 
no  progress  in  Christianity,  that  is,  holiness  of  life  ; 
that  ever  hang  hovering  in  a  twilight  of  grace,  and 
never  seriously  put  ourselves  forward  into  clear  day- 
light, but  esteem  that  glimmering  crcptisadum 
which  we  are  in,  and  like  that  faint  twilight  better 
than  broad  open  day:  whereas  "  the  path  of  the 
just  is  as  the  shining  light,  that  shineth  more  and 
more  unto  the  perfect  day."  I  am  sure  there  be 
many  of  us,  that  are  perpetual  dwarfs  in  our  spirit- 
ual stature— like  those  silly  women,  that  St.  Baul 
speaks  of,  laden  with  sins  and  led  away  with  divers 
lusts,  that  are  "  ever  learning,  and  never  able  to 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  ; "  that  are  not 
now  one  jot  taller  in  Christianity  than  we  were 
many  years  ago,  but  have  still  as  sickly,  crazy,  and 
unsound  a  temper  of  soul  as  we  had  long  before. 

Indeed,  we  seem  to  do  something  ;  we  are  al- 
ways moving  and  lifting  at  the  stone  of  corruption 
that  lies  upon  our  hearts,  but  yet  we  never  stir  it 
notwithstanding,  or  at  least  never  roll  it  off  from 
us.  We  are  sometimes  a  little  troubled  with  the 
guilt  of  our  sins,  and  then  we  think  we  must  thrust 
our  lusts  out  of  our  hearts ;  but  afterwards  we 
sprinkle  ourselves  over  with  I  know  not  what  holy 
water,  and  so  we  are  contented  to  let  them  still 
abide  quietly  within  us.  We  do  every  day  truly 
confess  the  same  sins;  and  yet  still  commit  them 
as  much  as  ever,  and  lie  as  deeply  under  the  power 
of  them.  We  have  the  same  water  to  pump  out  in 
every  prayer,  and  still  we  let  the  same  leak  in  again 
upon  us.  We  make  a  great  deal  of  noise,  and  raise 
a  great  deal  of  dust  with  our  feet ;  but  we  do  not 
move  from  off  the  ground  which  we  had  gained  : 
as  if  religion  were  nothing  else  but  a  dancing  up 
and  down  upon  the  same  piece  of  ground,  and  mak- 
ing several  motions  and  friskings  upon  it  ;  and  not 
a  sober  journeying  and  travelling  onwards  to  a 
certain  place.     We  do  and  undo  ;  we  do  Penelopes 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    428     ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


telatn  tenere  ;  we  weave  sometimes  a  web  of  holiness, 
but  then  we  let  our  lusts  come,  and  undo  and  un- 
ravel all  again.  Like  Sysyphus  in  the  fable,  we 
roll  up  a  mighty  stone  with  much  ado,  sweatinj,'  and 
tugging  up  the  hill ;  and  then  we  let  it  go,  and  tumble 
down  again  unto  the  bottom  ;  and  this  is  our  con- 
stant work.  Like  those  Danaides,  which  the  poets 
speak  of,  we  are  always  filling  water  into  a  sieve, 
by  our  prayers,  duties,  and  performances,  which 
still  runs  out  as  fast  as  we  pour  it  in. 

What  is  it  that  thus  cheats  us,  and  gulls  us  out 
of  our  religion?  thai  makes  us  thus  constantly  to 
tread  the  same  ring  and  circle  of  duties,  where  vve 
make  no  progress  at  all  forwards,  and  the  further 
we  go,  are  still  never  the  nearer  to  our  journey's 
end.  — Cudworth,  1617-16S8. 

(2476.)  It  is  a  permanent  improvement  of  Christ. 
A  man  that  takes  a  step  or  two  forward,  and  then 
sits  down  again,  cannot  be  said  to  walk;  so,  some 
take  a  start  of  devotion,  a  fit  of  zeal  and  concern 
for  religion,  perhaps  about  a  communion,  but  it 
dies  out.  These  cannot  be  said  to  walk  in  Christ ; 
for  walking  in  Him  is  a  constant,  permanent,  pre- 
serving, and  continued  improvement  of  Him. 

— Erskine,  1685-1754. 

(2477.)  Some  professors  are  like  the  mill-wheel, 
it  goes  round,  yet  still  it  stands  in  the  same  place 
where  it  was  :  they  go  the  round  of  duties,  and 
morning  and  evening  prayers  ;  and  attend  Sabbath 
and  week-day  sermons,  which  is  well  done  :  but 
they  are  at  a  stand  ;  they  are  the  same  now,  that 
they  were  ten,  twenty  years  ago,  if  not  worse.  But, 
in  gathering  to  Shiloh,  the  people  are  made  to 
advance  nearer  and  nearer  to  heaven,  getting  more 
knowledge,  more  experience,  more  hatred  of  sin, 
more  love  and  likeness  to  Christ.  It  is  true,  the 
saints  themselves  have  their  winter-decays,  but  they 
have  also  their  summer-revivings,  that  set  them 
forward  again.  And  thus  the  path  of  the  just  is  as 
the  shinini.;  light,  which  shineth  more  and  more  unto 
a  perfect  day.  — Erskine,  1685-1754. 

(2478.)  There  may  be  a  continual  motion  that  is 
not  progressive,  like  that  of  a  door  which  continually 
moves  on  its  hinges,  yet  never  removes  from  its 
place ;  but  walking  in  the  Spirit  imports  a  pro- 
gressive motion  in  a  course  of  spirituality.  When 
persons  make  still  nearer  and  nearer  approaches 
unto  their  end,  the  terrti  of  their  course ;  draw 
nearer  and  nearer  to  God  ;  and,  as  they  draw  nearer 
to  Him,  find  a  gradual  influence  of  divine  light,  and 
life,  and  power ;  more  discernible  impressions  of 
the  Divine  image  ;  grow  more  and  more  into  suit- 
ableness to  Him;  are  more  acquainted  with  Him, 
are  brought  into  higher  delectations,  and  to  take 
more  complacency  in  Him  ;  this  is  walking  in  the 
Spirit ;  when  a  man's  path,  as  it  is  said  concerning  the 
righteous  man,  is  as  the  shining  light,  that  shines  more 
and  more,  brighter  and  brighter,  unto  the  perfect 
day.  As  you  know,  the  nearer  approach  we  make 
unto  the  light  of  a  glorious  lucid  object  the  more 
light  we  have,  still,  all  along  as  we  go,  our  way  grows 
more  and  more  lightsome.  Thev  do  not  walk  in 
the  Spirit,  therefore,  .who  keep  moving  but  move  in 
a  circle,  or  in  a  round  of  empty,  sapless  duties,  who 
keep  up  the  formalities  of  religion,  and  no  more  ; 
but  they  walk  in  the  Spirit  who  make  a  progress, 
who  go  forward,  who  draw  nearer  and  nearer  unto 
God,  and  become  more  suitable  to,  and  like  Him, 


and  fit  for  His  eternal  converse,   and  for  all  the 
present  service  wherein  He  falls  them. 

— Salter,  184a 

II.    IS   NECESSARY. 

1.  Because  we  are  bom  into  the  Divine  life 
Imperfect. 

(2479.)  God  deals  in  spiritual  proceedings,  as  in 
natural,  to  extremes  by  the  mean.  We  are  not 
born  old  men  ;  but  first  an  infant,  then  a  man,  then 
old.  We  are  conceived  of  immortal  seed,  born  of 
the  Spirit,  so  go  on  to  perfection.  There  is  first  a 
seed,  then  a  plant,  then  a  tree.  We  get  not  at  one 
jump  into  heaven,  nor  at  one  stroke  kill  the  enemy. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(2480.)  Who  starts  up  a  finished  Christian  ?  The 
very  best  men  come  from  their  graves,  like  Lazarus, 
"bound  with  grave  clothes  " — not  like  Jesus,  who 
left  the  death-dress  behind  Him;  and,  alas!  in 
their  remaining  corruptions,  all  carry  some  of  these 
cerements  about  with  them,  nor  drop  them  but  at 
the  gate  of  heaven.  — Guthrie. 

(2481.)  The  process  of  being  bom  again  is  like 
that  which  a  portrait  goes  tlirough  under  the  hand 
of  the  artist.  When  a  man  is  converted,  he  is  but 
the  outline  sketch  of  a  character  which  he  is  to  fill 
up.  He  first  lays  in  the  dead  colouring.  Then 
comes  the  work  of  laying  in  the  colours ;  and  he 
goes  on,  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  month 
after  month,  and  year  after  year,  blending  them, 
and  heightening  the  eft'  ct.  It  is  a  life's  work  ;  an-i 
when  he  dies  lie  is  still  laying  in  and  blending  the 
colours,  and  heightening  the  effect.  And  if  men 
suppose  the  work  is  done  when  they  are  converted, 
why  should  we  expect  aiiyt'^lng  but  lopsided  Chris- 
tian characters  ?  — Beecher. 

(2482.)  No  man  is  boni  into  the  full  Christian 
character,  any  more  than  he  is  born  into  ths  char- 
acter of  a  man  when  he  comes  into  the  world.  A 
man  at  conversion  is  in  the  state  of  one  who  has 
just  come  into  possession  of  an  old  homestead.  He 
has  the  title,  and  he  can  make  for  himself  a  beauti- 
ful home.  But  tl\e  dust,  the  dirt,  and  the  cobwebs 
of  years  choke  all  the  100ms,  and  must  be  cleared 
away.  Many  sills  and  beams  are  rotten,  and  muF.t 
be  replaced  by  new  ones.  Chambers  must  be  re- 
fitted, walls  newly  plastered,  the  whole  roof  must 
be  searched  over,  and  every  leak  stopped.  There 
must  be  a  thorough  cleansing  and  repair  before  the 
mansion  is  habitable  ;  and  when  ail  this  is  done, 
'tis  only  an  empty  house  that  the  man  has. 

The  same  kind  of  thing  that  man  is,  who  has 
trained  himself  into  freedom  from  wrong,  without 
having  become  faithful  in  right  deeds. 

Now  for  a  man's  house  he  may  buy  carpets 
ready  made  ;  but  there  is  no  loom  that  will  weave 
carpets  for  his  heart,  except  the  loom  that  is  in 
himself.  Furniture,  beds,  chairs,  ar^d  tables,  he 
may  buy  for  his  house,  but  rest  and  peace  for  his 
sold  can  only  be  worked  out  within  his  soul,  and 
long  labour  it  often  proves.  He  may  purchase 
paintings,  whose  voiceless  language  shall  make 
eloquent  his  walls,  and  statues  to  grace  niche  and 
pedestal,  and  books  to  fill  his  many  shelves,  but 
the  painter,  the  sculptor,  and  the  publisher,  for  the 
man's  mental  house,  are  all  in  his  own  heart. 

— Beethtr, 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    429    ) 


GRO IVTH  IN  GRA  CE. 


a.  To  prove  the  sincerity  of  our  profession  and 
tbe  reality  of  our  grace. 

(2483.)  We  are  pilgrims  and  travellers,  as  we 
jyrofess,  towards  our  heavenly  home,  who  are  still 
going  on,  and  every  day  despatch  some  part  of  the 
way.  But  if  we  stand  at  a  stay,  and  after  many 
years  spent  are  no  more  forwanl  in  our  journey 
than  we  were  at  our  first  setiinfj  forth,  it  siiows 
plainly  that  we  are  no  true  travellers,  but  loiterers, 
that  lazily  lie  hnking  in  our  ruin,  or  that  we  have 
not  gone  in  the  right  way  that  leads  to  our  country. 

We  would  be  counted  soldiers  in  the  Christi  m 
warfare,  and  profess  that  we  ti-,du  against  the  spirit- 
ual enemies  of  our  salvation.  l!ul  if  Satan  in  every 
temptation  prevails  with  us  ;  if  the  world  has  so 
allured  us  by  her  bewitching  baits,  that  we  are  in 
league  and  love  with  it  ;  if  alier  many  years'  we 
have  got  no  conquest  over  our  corruptions,  pride, 
covetousness,  voluptuousness,  malice,  envy,  and  such 
like,  but  that  they  still  reign  and  rule  in  us  as  in 
former  times  ;  it  is  a  sign  that  we  are  either  none 
of  God's  soldiers,  seeing  we  have  made  a  peace 
with  His  enemies,  or  that  we  are  notable  cowards, 
who  justly  deserve  to  be  cashiered,  and  that  there 
Is  little  grace  or  goodness  in  us,  seeing  so  long  time 
and  such  large  means  have  so  little  improved  and 
increased  it.  — Downaine,  1644. 

(2484.)  Look  where  you  will  in  God's  book,  you 
shall  never  find  any  lively  member  of  God's  Church, 
any  true  Christian  compared  to  any  biit  a  fruitful 
tree  ;  not  to  a  tall  cypress,  the  emblem  of  unprofit- 
able honour  ;  nor  to  the  smooth  ash,  the  emblem 
of  unprofitable  prelacy,  that  doth  nothing  but  bear 
keys  ;  nor  to  a  double-coloured  poplar,  the  emblem 
of  dissimulation  ;  nor  to  a  well-shaded  plane,  that 
hath  nothing  else  but  form  ;  nor  to  a  hollow  maple, 
nor  to  a  trembling  asp  ;  nor  to  a  prickly  thorn  ;  nor 
to  the  scratching  bramble,  nor  to  any  plant  what- 
soever, whose  fruit  is  not  useful  and  beneficial  ;  but 
to  the  fruitful  vine,  the  fat  olive,  the  seasonable 
sapling  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water.  Yet  it  is 
most  true,  that  the  goodly  cedars,  strong  elms,  fast- 
growing  willows,  sappy  sycamores,  and  all  the  rest 
of  the  fruitful  trees  of  the  earth,  i.e.,  all  fashionable 
and  barren  professors  whatsoever,  they  may  shoot 
up  in  height,  spread  far,  show  fair,  but  what  are 
they  good  for  ?  Yes,  they  may  be  fit  for  the  forest, 
the  ditches,  the  hedge- rows  of  the  world  ;  not  for 
the  true  suving  soil  of  God's  Israel,  tliat  is  a  soil  of 
use  and  fruit,  that  is  a  place  for  none  but  vines,  for 
trees  of  righteousness,  friiitfui  trees,  fruitful  Chris- 
tians. He  that  abideth  in  Me,  bringeih  forth  much 
fruit,  saith  our  Saviour  (John  xv,  5). 

— .Spencer,  165S. 

(24S5 .)  We  must  increase  our  talents,  enlarge  our 
graces,  shoot  up  in  tallness.  grow  up  to  this  stature. 
For  God's  family  admits  no  dwaifs  :  stunted  pro- 
fession was  never  sound.  — Adams,  1653. 

(2486.)  The  growth  of  grace  is  the  best  evidence 
of  the  truth  of  it  :  things  that  have  no  life  will  not 
grow,  a  picture  will  not  grow,  a  stake  in  the  hedge 
will  not  grow  ;  but  a  plant  that  hath  a  vegetative 
liie  grows.  — IValson,  1696. 

(24'?7.)  Where  there  is  life,   real,  spiritual  life, 

•  there  is  also  progress  in  that  life.     A  plant  which 

makes  no  shoots  or  growth,  is  dead  or  sickly.    Even 

the  tree  which  has  reached  its  full  height  does  not 

remain  as  it  is,  but  constantly  renews  and  varies  its 


outward  appearance.  Thus  it  is  with  the  kingdom 
of  nature,  and  so  it  is  with  the  kingdom  of  grace. 
"  Be  ye  therefore  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  your 
minds."  *"  Though  our  outward  man  perish,  yet 
our  inward  man  is  renewed  day  by  day." 

—Salter. 

(2488.)  Tt  is  only  living  things  that  grow;  and 
all  living  things  do  grow.  Be  it  the  lichen  that 
clings  to  the  rock,  or  the  eagle  that  has  her  nest  on 
its  craggy  shelf,  or  man  that  rends  its  heart  with 
powder  and  draws  the  gold  from  its  bowels—  from 
the  germ  out  of  which  they  spring  they  grow  on- 
wards to  maturity  ;  in  the  words  of  my  text,  they 
"  increase  more  and  more." 

These  words  are  as  true  of  spiritual  as  of  natural 
life.  According  to  heathen  fables,  Minerva,  the 
goddess  of  wisdom  and  daughter  of  Jupiter,  sprung 
full-grown  and  full-armed  from  her  father's  head. 
No  man  thus  comes  from  the  hand  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  in  sudilen,  mature,  perfect  saintship.  There 
is  nothing  in  the  spiritual  world  which  resembles 
this  :  no,  nor  even  what  the  natural  world  presents 
in  the  development  of  the  insect  tribes.  During 
their  last  and  perfect  stage,  in  the  condition,  as  it 
is  called,  of  the  i»iago,  be  their  life  long  or  short, 
they  undergo  no  increase.  So  soon  as  the  green 
worm  that  once  crawled  on  the  ground  and  fed  on 
garbage,  bursting  its  coffin-shell,  comes  forth,  a 
creature  with  silken  wings,  to  roam  in  the  sunny 
air,  to  sleep  by  night  on  a  bed  of-  flowers,  and  by 
day  l>anquet  on  their  nectar,  it  grows  no  more — 
neither  larger  nor  wiser ;  its  flight  and  faculties 
being  as  perfect  on  the  day  of  what  may  be  called 
its  new  birth,  as  when,  touched  by  early  frosts  or 
drowned  in  rain,  it  dies.  Here,  inileed,  we  have  a 
symbol  of  the  re5urrection-body  as  it  shall  step 
from  the  tomb ;  in  beauty  perfect,  in  growth 
mature  ;  to  undergo  henceforth,  and  tli  rough  eternal 
ages,  neither  change  nor  decay.  It  is  otherwise 
with  the  renewed  soul.  Before  it,  in  righteousness, 
and  knowledge,  and  true  holiness,  stretches  a  field 
of  illimitable  progress — upwards  and  onwards  to 
what  it  shall  be  for  ever  approaching,  yet  never 
reach,  the  throne  of  God.  — Guthrie. 

3.  To  preserve  us  from  apostaey. 

(24S9.)  The  best  remedy  against  apostaey  is 
growth  in  goodness.  It  is  a  rule  in  policy  that  the 
ambitious  man  should  never  stay  at  any  step  of  pre- 
ferment until  he  comes  at  the  top,  because  it  is 
some  security  to  be  in  motion.  Our  ascent  to 
heaven  is  steep  and  narrow,  and  we  are  safest  when 
we  do  not  stand  still ;  temptation  cannot  so  well 
take  its  aim  at  us.  — lillotson,  1630^-1694. 

(2490.)  There  is  no  standing  at  a  stay  in  religion, 
eitlier  we  go  forward  or  backward  :  if  faith  doth 
not  grow,  unbelief  will;  if  heavenly  -  mindeduess 
doth  not  grow,  covetousness  will.  A  man  thai  doth 
not  increase  his  stock,  diininisheth  it  ;  if  you  do 
not  improve  your  stock  of  grace,  your  stock  will 
decay.  The  angels  on  Jacob's  ladder  were  either 
ascending  or  descentling  ;  if  you  do  not  ascend  in 
religion,  you  descend.  — iVatson,  1696. 

(2491.)  By  reason  of  corruption,  we  are  like  the 
boat  in  the  stream  ;  if  we  go  not  forward  by  the 
oar,  we  go  backward  by  the  tide  ;  so,  if  we  go  not 
forward  by  the  strength  of  grace,  we  will  go  back- 
ward by  the  strength  and  power  of  corruption. 

— Erskine,  1685-1754 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    430    ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(2492.)  If  an  examination  of  conscience  should 
show  hat  we  are  not  growing  in  grace,  there  is  but 
one  alternative,  which  is  that  we  are  falling  back. 
An  a\/ful  truth,  but  one  as  infallibly  certain  as  any 
othei  phenomenon  of  our  moral  state.  Neither  in 
n 'n<l  nor  body  does  man  ever  "continue  in  one 
stay."  His  body  is  constantly  throwing  ofT  old 
panicles  of  matter,  and  appropriating  new  ones. 
Every  breath  he  breathes,  every  exertion  of  his 
muscles  and  limbs,  every  particle  of  food  he 
swallows,  makes  some  minute  change  in  the  bodily 
framework,  so  that  it  is  never  entirely  the  same. 
Of  each  individual  among  us  it  may  be  said  with 
truth  al  any  given  moment,  that  he  is  either  rising 
to,  or  declining  from,  the  prime  of  life  and  the 
maturity  of  his  physical  powers.  And  the  mind,  no 
less  than  the  body,  is  in  a  continual  flux.  It,  too, 
has  its  moral  element, — the  society  in  which  it  lives  ; 
it,  too,  has  its  nourishment,  which  it  is  constantly 
ijnbibing, — the  influences  of  the  world  and  the  lower 
nature,  or  those  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  One  or  other 
of  those  influences  is  always  imperceptibly  passing 
into  the  mind  and  efTeciing  a  gradual  change.  And 
the  awful  thought  is,  that  if  the  change  is  not  for 
the  better,  it  must  be  for  the  worse  ;  if  the  mind  is 
not  appropriating  the  higher,  it  must  be  appropriat- 
ing the  lower  influences  ;  if  there  is  no  growth  in 
grace,  there  must  be  a  growth  in  worldliness  and 
sin.  — GotUburn. 

4.  To  qualify  us  to  receive  more  grrace. 

(2493.)  As  they  who  try  a  vessel  first  put  water 
into  it,  to  see  whether  it  will  hold  water,  then  they 
commit  wine  unto  it  ;  so  God  gives  us  one  grace  ; 
if  we  use  thai  well,  then  He  gives  another,  and 
another,  and  another.  According  to  that,  '■  He 
which  is  found  faithlul  in  a  little  shall  be  made  lord 
over  much."  — Httiry  Stiiiih,  1593. 

5.  To  secure  God's  conunendatlon. 

(2494.)  A  child  that  stayelh  at  one  stature,  and 
never  groweth  bigger,  is  a  monster.  The  ground 
that  prospereth  not,  and  is  not  fruitful,  is  cursed. 
The  tree  that  is  barren,  and  proveth  not,  is  cut 
down.  — Jewel,  1522-1 57 1. 

(2495.)  Ifa  man  should  bind  his  son  apprentice 
to  some  science  or  occupation,  and  when  he  had 
served  his  lime  should  have  to  seek  his  trade,  and 
be  never  a  whit  the  more  his  craft's-master  in  the 
ending  of  his  years  than  he  was  at  the  beginning, 
he  would  think  he  had  lost  his  time,  and  complain 
of  the  injury  of  the  master  or  the  carelessness  of  the 
servant.  Or,  if  a  father  should  put  his  son  to 
school,  and  he  always  should  continue  on  the  low- 
est form,  and  never  get  higher,  we  should  judge 
either  great  negligence  in  the  master  or  in  the 
scholar.  Behold,  such  apprentices  or  such  scholars 
are  most  of  us  !  The  Church  of  God  is  the  school 
of  Christ,  and  the  best  place  to  learn  the  science  of 
all  sciences.  Now,  if  we  have  many  of  us  lived 
long  therein,  some  of  us  twenty,  some  thirty,  some 
forty,  some  fifty  years,  &c.,  and  some  longer,  and 
we  no  wiser  than  a  child  of  seven,  were  it  not  a 
great  shame  for  us  ?  What  1  no  forwarder  in  re- 
ligion than  so?  O  disgrace  1  And  may  we  not  be 
condemned  of  grea'.  negligence  in  the  matters  of  our 
salvation  ?  — Alter  sol,  1618. 

6.  To  our  comfort  and  Joy. 

(2496.)  When  there  is  no  growth  in  grace,  nor 


in  the  practice  of  holy  duties,  we  can  take  little 
comfort  in  such  a  state.  But  as  it  is  a  grief  to 
parents,  when  their  children  grow  in  age  and  not  in 
wisdom  ;  and  an  ill-sign  that  nature  is  out  of  frame 
and  hindered  in  her  course  ;  when  in  their  bodies 
they  stand  at  a  stay,  and  though  they  eat,  and  drink, 
and  sleep,  yet  do  not  grow  at  all  in  their  stature  : 
so  have  we  more  just  cause  to  grieve,  when  after 
many  years  we  remain  children  in  knowledge,  and 
weaklings  in  saving  grace  ;  and  may  take  it  as  an 
ill-sign  that  there  is  little  grace  in  us,  or  some  not- 
able impediment  which  stops  and  hinders  it  in  its 
operations,  when,  having  enjoyed  for  a  long  time 
the  spiritual  food  of  the  Word  and  sacraments,  we 
grow  not  up  thereby,  nor  any  whit  increase  in  our 
strength  and  stature.  — Downame,  1644. 

(2497.)  If  you  do  not  strengthen  your  grace,  you 
will  make  way  to  strengthen  your  doubts.  Though 
weak  grace  will  carry  a  man  to  heaven,  it  will  be  just 
as  a  small  and  weak  vessel  surprised  by  a  shatter- 
ing storm,  which  though  it  may  get  to  the  shore, 
yet  with  excessive  hardships  and  fears  ;  such  wili 
sail  through  a  stormy  sea,  and  have  a  daily  contest 
with  stormy  doubts  ready  to  overset  their  hopes  ; 
whereas  a  stout  ship,  well  rigged,  will  play  with  the 
waves  in  the  midst  of  a  tempest,  and  at  last  pass 
through  all  difTiculties,  without  many  fears,  and  into 
its  haven.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

7.  To  bring:  us  to  heaven. 

(2498.)  There  is  a  medium  betwixt  sin  and  glory, 
and  that  is  grace,  a  royal  road,  a  milky  way  :  walk 
this  way,  or  expect  not  this  end.  God  did  enough 
to  bring  the  way  to  us,  who  could  never  else  have 
brought  ourselves  to  the  way  :  would  we  have 
Him  bring  down  heaven  and  glory  too?  We  are  in 
the  bondage  of  sin,  as  the  Israelites  were  in  Egy|>t  : 
Canann  was  theirs,  heaven  is  our  promised  land  ; 
if  neither  of  us  '.tW  to  walking,  nor  admit  a  motion 
and  removal,  they  through  the  desert,  we  through 
amendment  of  life,  neither  can  arrive  at  their  home. 
If  thou  think  thyself  too  good  for  this  journey,  God 
will  think  thee  too  bad  for  His  glory. 

— Adams,  1653. 

III.  WHAT  IT  IS  THAT  IS  REQUIRED  OP 
US. 

{2499.)  Gotthold  observed  a  boy  in  a  writing 
school  eyeing  attentively  the  line  placed  beloie 
him  as  a  copy,  and  labouring  to  write  with  etpial 
correctness  and  beauty.  Mark,  said  he  to  the 
bystanders,  how  all  perfection  is  the  offspring  of 
imperfection,  and  how,  by  frequent  mistakes,  we 
learn  to  do  well.  It  is  not  required  of  this  boy  that 
his  penmanship  shall  equal  that  of  the  line.  He 
satisfies  his  master  by  the  pains  he  takes  ;  for  these  are 
aground  of  hope  that  he  will  progressively  improve, 
and  at  last  learn  to  vvrite  with  rapidity  and  elegance. 
We  have  also  a  pattern  to  copy.  It  has  been  left  to 
us  by  the  Lord  Jesus  (i  Peter  ii.  21),  and  in  His 
most  perfect  and  holy  life.  And  think  not  that 
He  exacts  from  us  more  than  the  teacher  does  from 
the  pupil.  No,  indeed  ;  if  He  find  us  carefully 
stud)  ing  His  example,  and  diligent  in  our  endeavour 
to  imitate  it,  He  exercises  forbearance  towards  our 
faults,  and  by  His  grace  and  Spirit  daily  stiengthens 
us  to  amend.  — Hcrivcr,  1629-1693. 

IV.  SHOULD  BE  EARNESTLY  D  ESI  REV 
(2500.]  Let  us  not  content  ourselves  with  that 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    431     ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


small  msasiire  of  grace  which  we  have  received,  nor 
rest  in  those  duties  wliich  we  have  already  per- 
formed, but  let  us  labour  to  grow  daily,  and  increase 
in  grace  and  in  the  Christian  practice  of  a  godly 
life.  F"or  as  in  nature  things  stand  not  at  a  stay,  but 
as  weary  of  the  state  of  imperfection,  tend  to  perfec- 
tion, growing  up  therein  from  one  degree  to  another 
till  they  come  to  the  highest — as  tlie  grain  of  corn, 
taking  root  in  the  eaith,  shoots  up  into  a  blade,  and 
then  gro\ys  to  have  an  ear,  and  so  ripening  multiplies 
itself  in  its  kind  ;  and  the  little  kernel,  springing 
first  into  a  small  shoot,  and  then  grows  by  degrees 
to  a  flourishing  and  fruitful  tree — so  the  growth  of 
grace  proceeds  from  imperfection  to  one  degree  of 
perfection  after  another  until  we  come  into  a  perfect 
age  in  Christ. 

And  as  sick  men  newly  recovered  cannot  rest 
contented  that  they  live,  but  long  after  their  wonted 
Strength,  desiring  first  to  sit  up  ;  and  when  they 
can  do  this  are  not  satisfied,  but  desire  ability  to 
walk  and  to  recover  their  stomach  and  appetite,  and 
then  to  go  abroad  ;  and  not  so  content  wish  to  be 
freed  from  faintness,  to  be  restored  to  their  former 
good  habitude,  plight,  and  liking,  and,  in  a  word, 
are  never  quiet  in  their  desires  till  they  have  re- 
covered their  perfect  health  ;  so  we,  having  been 
sick  unto  death,  after  we  are  revived  and  quickened 
by  God's  Spirit,  must  not  content  ourselves  with 
some  first  degrees  of  spiritual  life  and  beginnings  of 
health  and  strength,  but  long  and  labour  by  all 
good  means,  that  we  may  daily  increase  in  them 
until  we  attain  to  them  in  full  perfection. 

— Downame,  1644. 

(2501.)  As  some  cannot  hear  of  a  curious  flower, 
but  they  will  have  it  in  their  garden,  so  a  Christian 
cannot  hear  of  any  grace  but  he  will  labour  to  obtain 
it.  —Sibbes,  157  7-1635. 

V.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  SECUl^ED. 
1.  By  Gonstaiit  contemplation  of  the  cbaracter 
Of  Christ. 

(2502.)  A  painter  requires,  by  long  and  repeatedly 
viewing  the  countenance  he  has  to  paint,  to  impress 
it  in  the  first  instance  on  his  heart  in  order  after- 
wards, as  far  as  possible,  to  produce  it  with  colours 
upon  the  canvas.  And  in  the  same  way,  it  is  upon 
the  heart  that  the  image  of  Jesus  Christ  must  first 
be  formed,  and  then  afterwards  transferred  into  a 
holy  life,  and  an  affectionate  and  godly  walk.  Once 
impressed  upon  the  heart,  it  will  soon  show  itself 
in  the  tlioughts,  words,  actions,  and  gestures.  And, 
in  this  work,  never  must  we  grow  weary  or  dispiiiled. 
A  picture  is  not  painted  at  a  stroke,  but  is  brought 
by  slow  degrees,  after  many  sittings,  and  with 
cautious  touches,  to  perfection.  To  have  the 
Saviour  formed  in  his  heart  and  copied  into  his 
life,  is  a  task  that  will  last  the  Christian  all  his  days. 
— Scriver,  1629-1693. 

&  By  a  wise  use  of  the  means  of  grrace. 

(2503.)  That  we  may  grow  in  grace,  we  need  to 
use  the  means  of  grace  in  their  due  proportion. 
Nothing  is  more  common  than  the  almost  exclusive 
use  of  particular  means  of  growth  to  the  neg'ect  of 
others.  Meditation  is  good,  but  where  it  becomes 
exclusive  it  is  evil.  So  outward  activity,  in  labour- 
ing for  the  salvation  of  men,  it  is  of  the  highest  im- 
portance ;  but  let  this  absorb  the  Christian  ;  let 
there  be  but  little  time  for  the  soul  to  pass  into  the 
•hade  and  night  of  retirement,  and  self- reflection 


and  private  communion  with  Cod,  and  the  most 
fruitful  branch  of  piety  will  wither  and  die.  '1  he 
Saviour  went  frequently  into  solitary  places  for 
prayer.  He  left  ministering  to  thousands,  that  Ilis 
own  soul  might  be  refreshed  in  communion  with  the 
Father. 

Give  the  soul  to  any  one  means  of  religious 
growth  alone,  and  it  will  suffer.  Thought  of  God 
is  a  precious  means  of  grace,  but  exclusive  thought 
of  God  would  turn  the  brain,  and  send  tiie  mistaken 
one  to  an  asylum.  In  times  of  deep  religious  inte- 
rest, persons  have  lost  their  reason,  and  it  has  been 
said  that  religion  occasioned  it.  It  wns  not  religion, 
but  an  exclusive  attention  to  some  one  department 
of  religion.  The  best  food  we  eat,  if  eaten  exclu- 
sively, would  cause  dyspepsia,  perhaps  death. 
Hence  Christians  are  always  injured  when  any  one 
thought  of  duty,  or  usefulness,  or  reform  of  society 
takes  possession  of  them,  to  the  neglect  of  other 
spiritual  nourishment  or  other  calls  upon  their 
sympathy  and  a.ssistance. 

This  excessive  use  of  particular  means  is  adopted 
very  naturally.  The  Christian,  perhaps,  has  found, 
on  some  occasion,  great  benefit  from  meditation, 
and  forthwith  concludes  that  this  is  all  he  needs. 
Or  he  has  vi'aked  up  to  see  the  worth  of  the  soul 
and  the  need  of  direct  labour  for  its  salvation,  and 
now  he  feels  that  this  is  the  only  end  of  life.  This 
is  all  natural,  but  not  the  less  mistaken.  When 
there  has  been  no  rain  for  a  long  season,  and  all 
vegetation  is  withering  and  dying,  as  we  see  the  first 
shower  descend,  and  mark  its  effects,  we  feel,  Oh  ! 
this  is  all  that  is  needed  ;  but  do  we  not  know  that 
if  the  shower  continues  unabated,  it  will  as  readily 
destroy  as  the  burning  sun  ?  Christians  must  grow 
as  plants  grow,  not  by  the  use  of  one  means  alone,  but 
by  every  means.  The  plant  grows  by  day  and  by 
night,  in  the  sun  and  in  the  shade,  in  the  clear  sky 
and  in  the  shower,  by  means  of  earth,  air,  dew, 
rain.  Any  one  alone  will  injure  and  destroy.  In 
combination  they  will  cause  the  pinnt  to  grow  in 
beauty  and  fruitfulness.  — John  M'Leod. 

3.  By  earnest  effort. 

(2504.)  As  the  widow's  oil  increased,  not  in  the 
vessel,  but  by  pouring  out  ;  and  as  the  barley  bread 
in  the  Gospel  multiplied,  n*  in  the  whole  loaf,  but 
by  breakiug  and  distributing ;  and  as  the  grain 
bringelh  increase,  not  when  it  lieth  on  a  heap  in  the 
garner,  but  by  scattering  upon  the  land  ;  so  are 
these  spiritual  graces  best  improved,  not  by  keeping 
them  together,  but  by  distributing  them  abroad. 
The  talent  gathereth  nothing  in  the  napkin,  unless 
it  be  rust  and  canker  ;  but  travelling  in  the  bank, 
besides  the  good  it  doth  as  it  passelh  to  and  fro,  it 
ever  returnelh  home  with  increase. 

— Sanderson^  1 587-1662. 

(2505.)  Growth  demands  earnestness.  No  one 
grows  who  does  not  mean  to  grow.  Paul  made 
great  progress ;  but  Paul  had  a  great  purpose  ; 
mark  his  emphatic  language:  "This  one  thing  I 
do."  This  earnestness  of  purpose  will  lead  one  to 
watch  for  every  opportunity  of  growth.  It  will 
turn  every  event,  and  especially  every  annoyance  of 
life  into  a  round  of  the  ladder,  by  which  the  soul 
may  daily  ascend  to  God.  Annoyance — what  is 
annoyance  but  something  permitted  by  thy  Father 
to  discipline  thy  spirit  ? 

That  man  will  grow  in  grace  who  understandi 
the  meaning  and  value  of  these  little  but  frequent 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    432    ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


trials  of  our  temper,  just  as  a  man  may  become 
wealthy  by  the  income  of  small  but  constant  profits. 

Where  there  is  earnestness  there  will  be  growth 
under  the  most  unpromising  circumstances.  Earnest 
souls  may  Sttldom  hear  the  (Jospel.  They  live  in 
some  destitute  region  ;  yet  they  grow.  The  Church 
may  be  dead  about  them,  the  pure  doctrines  of  the 
Gospel  may  be  so  encrusted  with  superstitions  and 
ceremonies  as  scarcely  to  be  recognised,  yet  such 
will  grow  on  the  little  gleams  of  light  and  the  little 
nutriment  which  may  be  separated  from  the  gross 
adulterations  ;  just  as  you  sometimes  see  a  living 
and  growing  tree  whose  roots  seem  to  grasp  nothing 
but  rocks.  As  you  see  a  flower  flourishing  right  by 
die  edge  of  a  glacier— a  field  of  ice.  Fenelon, 
Madame  Zuion,  A.  Kempis,  lived  the  life  of  God, 
surrounded  by  the  forms  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church.  And,  no  doubt,  to-day  may  be  found  many 
of  the  hidden  ones  of  the  Saviour  in  the  midst  of 
that  corrupt  communion. 

The  earnest  Christian  will  find  nutriment  for  his 
piety  everywhere.  Want  of  growth  will  not  be  for 
want  of  material  for  assimilation,  but  for  want  of  a 
principle  to  assimilate.  — John  M'Leod. 

(2506.)  We  are  to  make  efforts  to  grow.  Some 
men  have  mooted  the  strange  notion  that  that 
peculiar  adaptation  of  the  bodies  of  certain  ani- 
mals to  their  habits,  in  which  we  see  the  wisdom 
of  their  Maker,  has  resulted  from  the  efforts  which 
they  made  to  adapt  themselves  to  their  circum- 
stances— that  the  heron,  for  instance,  by  stretching 
itself  up  to  preserve  its  feathers,  from  the  water  of  the 
stream  or  shore  where  it  fishes,  got  its  limbs  length- 
ened into  stilts,  and  acquired  also  its  taper  neck  by 
constant  and  long  continued  efforts  to  strike  its  prey 
at  the  bottom  of  the  pool.  Any  theory  more  absurd 
can  hardly  be  imagined.  Yet,  in  the  spiritual  king^ 
dpm,  the  very  wish  and  effort  to  be  good  has,  with 
God's  blessing  and  through  operation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  a  tendency  to  improve  us.  In  the  attempt 
to  be  better  we  grow  better,  even  as  the  flapping  of 
a  nestling's  wing,  impotent  though  it  be  to  raise 
the  bird  into  the  air,  fits  its  pinions  for  future  flight ; 
or  as  the  creeping  of  an  infant  on  the  floor  prepares 
its  limbs  for  walking.  It  is  to  efibrts,  not  to  idle- 
ness, to  supineness,  to  ^eep,  that  God  promises  the 
blessing — those  heavenly  aids,  without  which  the 
arm  of  a  giant,  to  say  nothing  of  a  child  in  grace, 
cannot  snap  the  feeblest  cord  that  binds  us  to  earth 
and  sin.  God  works;  and  we  are  to  be  fellow- 
workers  with  Him,  that  we  may  "increase  more 
and  more."  — Guthrie, 

(2507.)  Cast  a  sponge  into  water,  and  the  fluid 
filling  its  empty  cells,  it  swells  out  before  our  eyes  ; 
increases  more  and  more.  There  is  no  eff'ort  here, 
and  could  be  none  ;  for  though  once  a  living  animal, 
the  sponge  is  now  dead  and  dry.  But  it  is  not  as 
spo.iges  fill  with  water,  nor,  to  use  a  Scripture  figure 
often  employed,  and  sometimes  misapplied,  as 
Gideon's  fleece  was  filled  with  dews,  tliat  God's 
people  are  replenished  with  His  grace.  Alore  is 
heeded  than  simply  to  bring  ourselves  in  contact 
with  ordinances  ;  to  read  the  Bible  ;  to  repair  on 
Sabi)aih  to  the  church  ;  to  sit  down  in  communion 
seasons  at  the  Lord's  table.  The  babe,  for  ex- 
ample, is  laid  in  a  mother's  arms,  and  in  contact 
with  her  breast  ;  but  is  laid  there  only  to  die,  un- 
less, with  slumbering  instincts  awakened,  it  I'asten, 
and  suck  by  its  own  efforts  the  noi  rishment  pro- 


vided for  it,  independent  of  itself ;  and  there,  draw, 
ing  life  from  a  mother's  bosom,  it  lies  in  he« 
loving  arms,  the  symbol  of  him  who  hangs  by  faith 
on  Christ,  and,  fed  on  the  sincere  milk  of  the  Word, 
is  nourished  up  into  the  likeness  and  image  of  God. 
And  after  all,  this  picture  conveys  but  an  inadequate 
idea  of  what  is  required  of  us,  in  order  that  we 
may  increase  more  and  more.  It  is  by  other  and 
greater  efforts  than  the  infant's  we  are  to  grow  in 
grace,  and  get  to  heaven  :  for  instance.  Search  the 
Scriptures — Watch  unto  prayer — Pray  without  ceas- 
ing— Fight  the  good  fight — Labour  for  the  bread 
that  never  perisheth — Give  all  diligence  to  make 
your  calling  and  election  sure — Work  out  your 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling — See  that  no  man 
take  your  crown. 

While  all  our  hopes  of  salvation  centre  in  the 
cross  of  Christ,  and  all  our  hopes  of  progress  hang 
on  the  promised  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  let  us 
therefore  exert  ourselves  to  the  utmost  ;  reaching 
forth  to  higher  attainments,  and  aiming  at  daily 
increase  in  every  holy  and  Christian  habit. 

— Guthru. 

V!,    ITS   METHOD, 

1.  It  Is  gradual. 

(2508.)  Natural  fruit-trees  increase  by  little  and 
little  every  year,  they  are  not  suddenly  great  anil 
large  trees,  but  they  increase  by  degrees  ;  every 
year  they  grow  larger  every  way,  by  the  culture  and 
diligence  of  the  husbandman,  and  influences  of 
heaven,  until  they  attain  their  hxW  growth. 

This  shadows  out  unto  us  the  state  of  spiritual 
fruit-trees  in  this  proposition — that  grace  in  the 
hearts  of  believers  is  not  suddenly  strong,  but 
strength  is  gotten  by  degrees.  — Austen, 

(2509.)  Perfection  comes  by  leisure,  and  no  ex- 
cellent thing  is  done  at  once.  The  gourd,  which 
came  up  in  a  night,  witliered  in  a  day  ;  but  the 
plants  that  live  long  rise  slowly.  It  is  the  rising 
and  setting  of  many  suns  that  ripens  the  business 
both  of  nature  and  art,  — Adams,  1653. 

(2510.)  God  is  the  God  of  order,  not  of  confusion. 
As,  therefore,  in  natural  things  He  useth  to  proceed 
from  one  extreme  to  another  by  degrees,  through 
the  mean  ;  so  doth  He  in  spiritual.  The  sun  rises 
not  at  once  to  its  highest,  fiom  the  darkness  of  mid- 
night ;  but  first  sends  forth  some  feeble  glimmering 
ol  light  in  tiie  dawning,  then  looks  out  with  weak 
and  waterish  beams,  and  so  by  degrees  ascends  to 
the  midst  of  heaven.  So  in  the  seasons  of  the  year, 
we  are  not  one  day  scorched  with  a  summer  heat, 
and  on  the  next  frozen  with  a  sudden  extremity  ol 
cold.  But  winter  comes  on  softly  ;  fir^t,  by  cold 
dews,  then  hoar  frosts,  until  at  last  it  descends  to 
the  hardest  weather  of  all.  Such  are  God's  spiri- 
tual  proceedings.  He  never  brings  any  man  from 
the  estate  of  sin  to  the  estate  of  glory,  but  through 
the  estate  of  grace.  And  as  for  grace.  He  seUlom 
brings  a  man  from  gross  wickedness  to  any  eminence 
of  perfection.  I  will  be  charitably  jealous  of  those 
men,  who,  from  notorious  lewdness  leap  at  once 
into  a  sudilen  forwardness  of  profession.  Holiness 
does  not,  like  Jonah's  gourd,  grow  up  in  a  night. 
1  like  it  better  to  go  on  sof^t  and  sure,  than  for  a 
hasty  fit  to  run  m_\  self  out  of  wind,  and  after  stand 
still  and  breath  me.  —Hall,  1574-1656. 

(2511.)  A  Christian  is  not  of  hasty  growth,  like* 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE, 


(     433     ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


mashroom  ;  but  rather  like  the  oak,  which,  from  a 
little  acorn  and  a  tender  plant,  advances  with  an 
almost  imperceptible  growth  from  year  to  year,  till 
it  becomes  a  broad  spreading  and  deep-rooted  tree, 
and  then  it  stands  for  ages.  The  Christian  oak 
shall  grow  and  flourish  for  ever. 

— Newton,  1 725-1 807. 

{2512.)  The  growth  of  grace  in  the  heart  may  be 
compared  to  the  process  of  polishing  metals.  First, 
you  have  a  dark  opaque  substance,  neitlier  possess- 
ing nor  reflecting  light.  Presently,  as  the  polisher 
plies  his  work,  you  will  see  here  and  there  a  spark 
darting  out  ;  then  a  strong  light,  till,  by  and  by, 
it  sends  back  a  perfect  image  of  the  sun  which 
sliines  upon  it.  So  the  work  of  grace,  if  begun  in 
our  hearts,  must  be  gradually  and  continually  going 
on  ;  and  it  will  not  be  completed  till  the  image  of 
God  can  be  seen  perfectly  reflected  in  us. 

— Salter,  1840. 

(2513.)  Lettuces,  radishes,  and  such  like  garden 
crops,  are  soon  out  of  the  ground  and  ready  for  the 
table,  a  month  almost  suffices  to  perfect  them  ;  but 
an  oak  requires  long  centuries  to  come  to  the  ful- 
ness of  its  growth.  Those  graces  which  are  most 
precious  and  durable  will  cost  us  longest  to  produce  ; 
those  good  things  which  spring  up  hastily  may  have 
some  transient  worth  about  them,  but  we  cannot 
look  for  permanence  and  value  in  them.  There  is 
no  need  to  deplore  the  slowness  of  our  spiritual 
growth,  if  that  which  comes  of  it  be  of  a  solid 
character.  — Spurgeon. 

(2514.)  The  lustre  of  the  glass  can  be  produced 
in  a  few  minutes  by  man's  agency  ;  but  the  radiance 
of  the  diamond  takes  unknown  ages  to  develop  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth,  under  the  subtle  action  of 
Nature's  most  powerful  forces.  The  fair  colours  of 
grace  aie  of  slow  growth.  They  do  not  spring  up 
quickly,  but  are  wrought  out  through  long  weary 
days  of  discipline,  as  the  flower  grows  a  long  time 
in  dull  uniform  greenness,  through  storm  and  sun- 
shine, before  it  is  crowned  with  the  rainbow  blossom. 

— Afactnilla>t. 

(2515.)  A  Christian,  just  bom  into  the  kin;:dom, 
is  often  like  a  loaf  of  bread  when  its  materials  are 
just  put  together.  The  baker  has  mixed  them,  and 
left  the  bread  to  rise.  You  go  to  the  dough  and 
say,  "Are  jjw/  bread?" — "No,"  says  the  dough, 
"I  am  not."  In  an  hour  you  go  again  and  ask, 
"Are  you  bread?" — "No,  I  am  not,"  replies  the 
dough.  "  I  feel  a  little  stirring  "  (said  with  a  rising 
of  the  shouldeis)  "in  me,  but  I  am  not  bread." 
In  two  hours  more  you  try  :  "  Are  you  bread  now  ?  " 
—  "No,"  is  still  the  reply  ;  "I'm  sponge,  but  not 
bread.  I'm  not  baked,  nor  eaten  yet."  But  by 
and  by,  after  the  baker  gives  it  the  final  kneading, 
and  it  is  ready  for  the  oven,  wlien  it  is  baked,  it 
owns  that  now  it  is  really  bread.  Yet  it  has  gained 
no  new  element  since  the  first  mixing.  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  in  the  heart  is  like  leaven  which  a 
woman  hid  in  a  measiAe  of  meal  until  llie  whole 
was  leavened.  — Beecher. 

(2516.)  Young  Christians  often  get  discouraged, 
♦nd  think  that  they  bear  no  fruit,  and  shall  be  cut 
&K.  They  say  that  Christ  promised  His  disciples 
that  He  would  dwell  in  them,  and  that  they  shall 
Viear  much  fruit.  Christ  did  not  mean  that  fruit 
should  come  at  once,  all  ripened.     Remember  to 


whom  He  spoke — men  who  were  for  years  after 
this  getting  it  through  their  heads  that  He  was  to  die 
for  them.  It  was  twenty-five  years  before  the  fruit 
grew  upon  them  that  we  find  clustering  in  the 
Epistles ;  and  then  only  two  or  three  of  them  had 
anything  to  do  out  of  their  own  time. 

When  the  gardener  looks  in  the  spring  to  ;ee  if 
the  branches  of  his  vine  are  alive,  he  is  satisfied  if 
he  sees  the  tip  of  the  most  tiny  bud — he  don't  call 
that  a  dead  branch.  There  was  but  one  of  the 
disciples  that  seemed  much  changed  for  the  better 
during  the  life  of  Christ — that  was  John.  He  was 
one  of  those  persons  who,  soft  and  velvety  outside, 
have  in  them  a  core  of  granite,  who,  under  a  smooth 
aspect,  carry  the  charge  of  thunder.  He  was  the 
one  who  wanted  to  call  down  fire  from  heaven  to 
burn  up  the  people  who  had  ofi"ended  his  Master. 
His  afi"ections,  when  not  disturbeti,  were  tender  and 
sweet  ;  but  thwarted,  he  grew  bitter  as  gall.  Yet 
he  came  at  last  to  that  gentleness  of  character,  by 
which  he  is  now  known  ;  and,  after  a  score  of  years, 
grew  able  to  pen  those  fervent  letters,  so  remark- 
able for  ringing  all  the  changes  of  love.  Indeed 
John  seems  to  have  forgot  every  word  in  the  lan- 
guage but  "love."  It  is  not  in  one  year,  nor  five, 
nor  ten,  that  you  will  ripen.  — Betcher. 

2,  And  therefore  is  frequently  Imperceptible. 

(l.)  In  its  commencement. 

(2517.)  Nothing  is  so  little  as  grace  at  first,  and 
nothing  more  glorious  afterward.  Things  of  greatest 
perfection  are  longest  in  coming  to  their  growth. 
Man,  the  perfectest  creature,  comes  to  perfection 
by  little  and  little.  Worthless  things,  as  mush- 
rooms and  the  like,  like  Jonah's  gourd,  soon  spring 
up,  and  soon  vanish.  A  new  creature  is  the  most 
excellent  creature.  Therefore  it  grows  up  by 
degrees.  We  see  in  nature  that  a  mighty  oak  rises 
out  of  an  acorn.  — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(2518.)  Grace  is  compared  to  a  grain  of  mustard 
seetl,  which,  though  it  be  very  small,  yet  by  degrees 
it  groweth  very  great.  The  inclinations  and  new 
dispo>itions  which  the  Spirit  of  God  beginneth  to 
work  in  the  soul,  they  are  then  but  very  weak  and 
slender,  scarce  (it  may  be)  to  be  perceived,  but 
afterwards  they  are  more  sensible ;  it  is  as  corn 
sowed  in  the  field  (our  Saviour  holds  it  forth  by  that 
similitude)  which  bringeth  forth,  "first  the  blade, 
then  the  ear,  after  that  the  full  corn  in  the  ear." 
Corn  (we  know)  springs  up  at  first  very  small  and 
slender,  and  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  grass; 
so  the  first  springings  of  grace  in  some  are  so  small, 
that  they  are  scarce  to  be  perceivetl,  nor  are  they 
easily  distinguished  from  moral  viitues. 

— Austen. 

(2519.)  Our  conversion  is  by  soft  and  scarce 
sensible  beginnings,  albeit  not  part  after  part,  yet 
degree  after  degree  ;  in  every  part  by  gentle  soak- 
ings  in  of  goodness,  in  every  degree  by  maturity  and 
growing  up  to  ripeness.  As  we  cannot  see  the 
growing  of  a  tree,  yet  know  that  it  doth  grow  by 
the  magnitude  of  bulk,  and  branches,  and  fruits  ; 
so  we  may  perceive  our  conversion  to  God,  which  l 
walking  on  must  confirm.  — Adams,  1653. 

(2520.)  The  progress  of  holiness  is  sometimes 
like  the  lengthening  of  daylight,  after  the  days  are 
past  the  shortest.     The  difference  is  for  some  time 

2  £ 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    434    ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE, 


Imperceptible,    but   still    it   is   real ;    and,    in   due 
season,  becomes  undeniably  visible. 

—  'Joplady,  1 740-1 7  78. 

(2521.)  Christian  experiences  usually  rise  from 
the  smallest  beijinniiigs.  Great  and  glowing  fires 
proceed  from  the  merest  spark.  By  tlie  spaik  the 
match  is  set  011  fire.  Socn  the  lilaze  of  the 
snatch  is  so  much  nmre  than  the  spaik,  that  the 
spark  seems  almost  like  nothing.  But  now  the 
match  is  touched  to  the  shavings,  and  the  blaze 
which  flashes  up  from  iheni  is  so  much  larger  than 
tl.e  blaze  of  the  match,  that  the  match  is  ihiown 
lito  the  ashes.  In  a  sliort  time  the  kindling  has 
:aken  fire,  and  it  burns  with  so  much  more  power 
than  the  shavings,  that  their  liitle  blaze  is  lost  in 
its  greater  fire.  At  length  the  wood  sends  up  a 
brilliant  flame  with  which  the  blaze  of  the  kindling 
bears  no  comparison.  And  by  and  by  large  coals 
fall  down  upon  the  hearth,  and  tlie  whole  fireplace 
glows,  and  the  room  is  warmed  and  ruddily  lighted. 

And  so,  when  men  begin  their  Christian  life,  it 
is  but  a  spark.  Soon  there  is  kindled  in  the  soul 
some  joy,  which  is  no  more  than  the  blaze  of  a 
rratch.  This  is  gradually  develojied  into  greater 
experience  ;  and,  at  length,  the  whole  being  l)egiiis 
to  burn  and  glow  with  a  heavenly  fire.  Oltentimes 
men,  looking  back  upon  their  first  Christian  ex- 
])erience,  and  seeing  how  small  it  wns,  say,  "I  do 
not  believe  I  was  a  Christian  when  I  first  believed 
myseK  convened." 

Imagine  a  tree  two  hundred  years  old  to  look 
back  upon  the  stages  of  growth  through  which  it 
has  passed,  and  to  say,  "  1  remember  that  when  I 
was  twenty  years  old  I  was  only  so  big.  I  then 
thought  I  was  an  oak  ;  but  when  I  compare  what 
I  am  now  with  what  I  was  then,  I  see  that  I  was 
not  an  oak  at  all  !  "  What  were  you  then  ? — moss  ? 
a  vine  ?  a  weed  ? 

Do  you  not  know  that  the  seed-form  and  the  full 
disclosive  form  are  the  same  in  their  nature  ?  Do 
you  not  know  that  one  is  the  legitimate  result  of 
the  other  ?  — Beecher, 

(2.)  In  its  progress. 

(2522.)  GrovNth  in  grace  may  be  like  the  growth 
of  your  ti-ees,  or  corn,  or  flowers,  or  the  shadow  on 
your  dial.  You  do  not  see  these  grow  or  move  ; 
but  if  you  come  after  a  sufficient  time,  you  may  see 
that  they  are  grown.  We  are  bigger  at  age  than  in 
childhood,  and  yet  we  never  saw  ourselves  grow,  it 
is  by  insensible  degrees.  Strong  Christians  have 
more  knowledge  than  they  had,  and  a  more  fixed 
resolution  for  God  anil  heaven,  and  a  greater  con- 
tempt of  worldly  vanity,  and  victory  over  fleshly 
desires  and  wilful  sin,  though  they  perceive  not  how 
these  grow.  Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2523.)  This  constant  progress  is  not  always 
discernible ;  saints  themselves  may  have  their 
winter-withering,  as  well  as  their  summer  fruit ;  and 
we  are  not  to  judge  of  the  growth  of  a  tree  by  look- 
ing to  it  this  day  fiMm  what  it  was  yesterday  ;  for 
there  may  be  no  sensible  alteration  ;  but  stay  till 
the  spring  comes,  and  then  you  will  discern  the 
flourish  and  the  fruit  ;  yea,  let  some  years  pass,  and 
then  you  may  see  some  sensible  growth  of  the  whole 
tree  ;  so,  the  children  of  God  are  not  always  to 
judge  of  their  continued  growth,  by  comparing  what 
they  are  this  day  with  what  they  were  the  former 
day ;  or  what  they  are  this  month  with  what  they 


were  the  former  month,  lest  there  be  no  discernible 
advance;  but  let  them  (at  least,  if  they  be  of  any 
standing  in  Christ)  judge  by  what  they  are  now 
from  what  they  were  at  their  first  engraftment  into 
Christ,  and  they  will  find  that  they  have  attained 
more  knowledge  of  Christ  than  at  first,  more  ei£« 
perience  of  His  favour,  more  outlettings  of  His 
grace,  than  they  understood  before  ;  more  in^^ight 
into  the  Gospel,  more  strokes  that  their  corruptions 
have  got,  and  so  more  fruit  and  growth. 

— Erskiiie,  1685-1752. 

(2524,)  If  the  husbandman,  disappointed  at  the 
delay  which  ensues  before  the  blade  breaks  the  soil, 
were  to  rake  away  the  earth  to  examine  if  germina- 
tion were  going  on,  he  would  have  a  poor  harvest. 
He  nmst  have  "long  patience,  till  he  receive  the 
early  and  the  latter  rain."  The  winter  frost  must 
mellow  the  seed  lying  in  the  genial  bosom  of  the 
earth  ;  the  rains  of  spring  must  swell  it,  and  the 
suns  of  summer  mature  it.  So  with  you.  It  is  the 
work  of  a  long  life  to  become  a  Christian.  Many, 
oh  !  many  a  lime,  are  we  tempted  to  say,  "I  make 
no  progiess  at  all.  It  is  only  failure  after  failure. 
Nothing  grows."  Now  look  at  the  sea  when  the 
flood  is  coming  in.  Go  and  stand  by  the  sea- 
beach,  and  you  will  think  that  the  ceaseless  flux 
and  reflux  is  but  retrogression  equal  to  the  advance. 
But  look  again  in  an  hour's  time,  and  the  whole 
ocean  has  advanced.  Every  advance  has  been 
beyond  the  last,  and  every  retrograde  movement 
has  been  an  imperceptible  trifle  less  than  the  last. 
This  is  progress  ;  to  be  estimated  at  the  end  of 
hours,  not  minutes.  And  this  is  Christian  progress. 
Many  a  fluctuation — many  a  backward  motion  with 
a  rush  at  times  so  vehement  that  all  seems  lost ; — 
but  if  the  eternal  work  be  real,  every  failure  has 
been  a  real  gain,  and  the  next  does  not  carry  us  so 
far  back  as  we  were  before.  Every  advance  is  a 
real  gain,  and  part  of  it  is  never  lost.  Both  when 
we  advance  and  when  we  fail,  we  gain.  We  are 
nearer  to  God  than  we  were.  The  flood  of  spirit- 
life  has  carried  us  up  higher  on  the  everlasting 
shores,  where  the  waves  of  life  beqt  no  more,  and 
its  fluctuations  end,  and  all  is  safe  at  last.  "This 
is  the  faith  and  patience  of  the  saints." 

— Aobeitson,  1816-1853. 

{2525.)  All  leal  growth  is  very  slow,  and  its 
actual  progress  imperceptible.  The  seed  sown  on 
stony  groimd,  which  forthwith  sprang  up,  because  it 
had  no  deepness  of  earth,  proved  a  failure.  Jonah's 
gourd,  which  came  up  in  a  night,  perished  also  in 
a  night.  We  never  see  plants  actually  growing; 
we  only  take  notice  that  they  have  grown.  He 
who  would  form  a  sound  judgment  of  his  spiritual 
progress  must  throw  his  eye  over  long,  not  short, 
intervals  of  time.  He  must  compare  the  self  of 
this  year  with  the  self  of  last  ;  not  the  self  of  to-day 
with  the  self  of  yesterday.  Enough,  if  amid  the 
divers  and  shifting  experiences  of  the  world,  and  the 
manifold  internal  self-communings  arising  there- 
upon, that  delicate  plant,  spiritual  life,  has  grappled 
its  fibre  a  little  deeper  into  the  soil  than  it  seemed 
to  have  done  in  an  earlier  stage  of  our  pilgrimage 
now  fairly  past.  — Goulburn. 

(2526.)  Progress  in  sanctification  may,  in  fact,  be 
going  on  when  you  do  not  see  it  ;  perhaps  when  it 
seems  going  back.  Take  comfort!  "The  king- 
dom of  God  Cometh  not  with  observation."  The 
river  may  appear  flowing  away  from  the  sea,  when, 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    «S    ) 


GROWTH  nv  GRACE. 


but  turning  round  the  base  of  some  opposing  hill,  it 
is  pursuing  an  onward  course.  The  ship  may 
appear  to  be  standing  away  from  the  harbour,  when, 
beating  up  in  the  face  of  adverse  winds,  she  is  only 
stretching  off  on  the  other  tack,  and  at  every  tack 
making  progress  shoreward,  though  to  others  than 
seamen  she  seems  to  lose  it.  God  works  in  strange, 
mysterious,  silent,  unnoticed  ways.  Silently  and 
slowly  the  water  rises  that  shall  one  day  on  a  sudden 
burst  the  ilyke,  and  sweep  away  the  obstacles  that 
bar  its  onward  path.  Unseen  and  unnoticed  the 
rains  wash  away  the  ground  below  the  stone  that 
shall  one  day,  on  a  sudden,  leap  from  its  seat,  and 
roll  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  Quietly  and  slowly 
the  root  grows  in  the  fissure  that  shall  one  day  on 
a  sudden  s[)lit  the  rock,  and  reveal  its  long-continued, 
silent,  secret,  but  mighty  power.  In  a  deep,  grow- 
ing sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  produced  perhaps  by  our 
very  fall  ;  in  deeper  humility,  in  a  lower  view  of 
ourselves,  in  greater  self-abasement  ;  in  a  more 
entire  dependence  on  Christ  for  righteousness,  and 
on  the  1  loly  Spirit  foi  l.^.e  work  of  grace  ;  in  feelings 
that  fdl  us  with  pain  and  regret  and  godly  sorrow, 
making  us  eat  our  passover  wiih  hitler  herbs,  the 
work  of  sanctification  may  be  going  on.  Like  a 
patient  who,  through  the  power  of  returning  life, 
begins  to  feel  and  complain  of  his  pains,  when  we 
think  we  are  growing  worse  we  may  actually  be 
growing  belter,  and  making  no  liitle  progress  when 
we  seem  to  be  making  none.  Be  not  cast  down  ! 
Progression  is  the  ordinary  law  of  God's  govern- 
ment. It  is  star  by  star  that  the  hosts  of  night 
'march  out  ;  it  is  minute  by  minute  that  morn's  grey 
dawn  brightens  up  into  perfect  day  ;  it  is  ring  by 
ring  that  the  oak  grows  into  the  monarch  of  the 
forest  ;  it  is  inch  by  inch,  and  foot  by  foot,  that  the 
tide,  which  bears  navies  on  its  bosom,  comes  creep- 
ing in  on  the  shore.  And,  not  like  justification  an 
act,  our  sanctilication  being  a  work  of  God's  free 
grace,  is  under  the  same  law  of  progress.  More  or 
less  rapid,  it  is  a  thing  of  steps  and  stages.  There- 
fore, while  |)raying  earnestly  and  working  diligently, 
live  hopefully  and  wait  paiienily.  He  will  perfect 
that  which  concernelh  us  ;  and  one  day  bring  forih 
the  headstone  with  "shoutings  of  Grace,  grace  unto 
\X."  —Guihrie. 

3.  It  Is  Intermittent. 

(2527.)  There  is  no  visible  difference,  as  unto 
light,  between  the  light  of  the  morning  and  the 
sunlight  of  the  evening  ;  yea,  this  latter  sometimes, 
from  gleams  of  the  setting  sun,  seems  to  be  more 
glorious  than  the  other.  But  herein  they  differ  ; 
the  first  goes  on  gradually  unto  more  light  until  it 
comes  to  perfection  ;  the  other  gradually  gives  place 
unto  darkness  until  it  comes  to  be  midnight.  So  is 
it  as  unto  the  light  of  the  just  and  of  the  hypocrite, 
and  so  is  it  as  unto  their  paths.  And,  by  the  way,  this 
comparing  of  the  just  unto  the  morning  light  re- 
minds me  of  what  1  have  seen  more  than  once. 
That  light  has  sometimes  cheerfully  appeared  unto 
the  world,  when,  after  a  little  season,  by  reason  ol 
clouds,  tempests,  and  storms,  it  has  given  place 
again  to  darkness,  like  that  of  the  night  ;  but  it  has 
Hot  so  been  lost  and  buried  like  the  evening  light. 
After  a  while  it  has  recovered  itself  unto  greater 
lustre  than  before,  manifesting  that  it  increased  in 
itself  while  it  was  eclipsed  as  to  us.  So  has  it  been 
with  not  a  few  at  their  first  conversion  unto  God  ; 
great  darkness  and  trouble  have,  by  the  efiicacy  ol 
temptation  and  injections  of  Saun,  posa'^'ised  their 


minds  ;  but  the  grace  which  they  have  received, 
being  as  the  morning  light,  has  after  a  while  dis- 
entangled itself  and  given  evidence  that  it  was  sa 
far  from  being  extinguishetl ;  as  that  it  grew  ani 
thrived  uniler  all  those  clouds  and  darkness  ;  for 
the  light  of  the  just  increases  by  temptations,  as 
that  of  the  hypocrite  is  constantly  impaired  by 
them.  — Owen,  1616-1683. 

{2528.)  There  may  be  progress  as  a  whole, 
though  there  may  not  be  continuous  jirogress,  stage 
by  stage.  On  some  days  the  plants  grow  rapidly  ; 
on  other  days  they  do  not  advance  at  all.  But 
very  often  while  the  plant  'tself  is  not  growing 
visibly  as  measured  by  a  scale,  it  may  be  striking 
deeper  its  roots  ;  it  may  be  collecting  and  husband- 
ing or  sowing  the  elements  of  growth,  and  so  pre- 
paring for  mightier  future  efforts  the  secret  sap  that 
is  its  vitality  and  its  power.  The  tide  does  not  rush 
up  to  its  accustomed  mark  at  once.  It  advances  so 
many  yards  one  way  ;  it  retires  a  little  ;  and  seems 
as  if  it  repented  of  its  approach  to  the  land,  and 
wished  to  retreat  again  to  the  secret  and  silent 
depths  of  the  sea.  But  if  we  wait  a  little,  ann'her 
wave  comes  with  more  majestic  and  onward  sweep; 
and  in  the  course  of  six  hours  we  find  there  has  b  a 
on  the  whole,  though  not  at  every  minute  ol  the 
six  hours,  progress  towards  the  shore.  Many  a 
Christian  who  thinks  he  is  not  growing  at  all,  m.iy 
be  growing  in  the  most  important  sense  of  the  word. 
He  that  is  growing  more  acquainted  vvith  the  weak- 
ness, and  the  sinfulness,  and  the  waywardness  of 
his  own  heart,  is  no  doubt  thinking  that  he  is 
going  back,  but  he  may  be  really  making  preparation 
for  going  forward  in  the  noblest  srnse  of  that  word. 
We  may  be  growing  downwards  in  lowly  humility, 
not  less  important  in  its  place  than  growing  upwaixla 
in  conformity  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

—  Cumming. 

(2529.)  As  an  illustration  of  this  law  in  the  king 
dofti  of  grace,  consider  the  movement  of  the  tide 
when  it  is  coming  in.  It  is  movement  upon  tha 
whole.  The  water  is  sure  to  cover  that  dry  beach 
in  two  or  three  hours'  time,  and  to  float  that  stranded 
sea-weed  ;  but  it  is  not  a  movement  without  relapses. 
Each  wave,  I  suppose,  gains  a  little  ground,  but 
each  wave  falls  back  as  soon  as  it  has  plashed  upon 
the  shore.  Even  so  in  the  Christian  life,  there 
may  be  a  forward  movement  on  the  whole,  con- 
sistently with  many  rela[)ses,  though  this  assertion 
requires  to  be  guardeil  by  the  observation  that  the 
relapses  must  be  such  as  proceed  from  infirmity, 
and  not  from  vtalke prfpeiise.  Deliberate,  habitual 
sin,  cannot  possibly  consist  with  spiritual  growth  ; 
but  the  shaking  of  a  man's  .-.tead fastness  by  a  suiiden 
tornado  of  temptation  (which  was  St.  Peter's 
case)  may  do  so.  The  great  question  is  whether, 
after  every  such  fall,  the  will  recovers  its  spring  an(i 
elasticity,  and  makes  a  fresh  start  with  new  and 
more  fervent  prayer  and  resolve.  Indeed  the 
making  many  fresh  starts  after  relapses  of  infirmity 
is  a  hopeful  sign  of  growth.  In  order  to  any  great 
attainment  in  spiritual  life,  there  must  be  an  in- 
domitable resolve  to  try  and  try  again,  and  still  to 
begin  anew  amidst  much  failure  and  discourage- 
ment. On  warm  dewy  mornings  in  the  spring, 
vegetation  makes  a  shoot  ;  and  when  we  rise,  and 
throw  open  the  window,  we  mark  that  the  May  is 
blosscjming  in  the  hedgerows.  And  those  periods 
wlien  a  man  can  say,  "  1  lost  myself  sadly  yesterday 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    436    ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


in  temper  or  in  talk  ;  but  I  know  that  my  crucified 
Lord  took  upon  liim  those  sins  and  answered  for 
them,  and  lo-day  I  will  earnestly  strive  against  them 
in  the  strength  of  His  Spirit  invoked  into  my  soul 
by  earnest  urayer ; "  these  are  warm  dewy  mornings 
of  the  soul,  when  the  spiritual  life  within  us  sprouts 
and  blossoms  apace.  — Goulburn. 

(2530. )  But  there  is,  over  and  above  the  law  ot 
rest  and  activity,  a  law  of  ptriodicity  in  Christian 
growth.  It  is  not  ordinarily  given  to  men  to  make 
a  steady  and  uniform  develojinient.  Men  grow  as 
nature  grows,  by  fits  and  sta;ts. 

1  have  around  my  little  cabin  in  the  country  a 
dozen  or  so  of  rhododendrons.  Broad-leaved  fellows 
they  are.  I  love  them  in  blossom,  and  1  love  them 
out  of  blossom.  They  make  me  think  of  many 
Christians.  They  are  like  some  that  are  in  this 
cliurch.  Usually  they  come  up  in  the  spring  and 
blossom  the  first  thing,  just  as  many  persons  come 
into  Christian  life.  '1  he  whole  growth  of  the  plants 
is  crowded  into  two  or  three  weeks,  and  they 
develop  with  wonderful  rapidity  ;  but  after  that 
they  will  not  grow  another  inch  during  the  whole 
summer.  What  do  they  do?  I  do  not  know 
exactly  ;  they  never  told  me ;  but  I  suspect  that 
they  are  organising  inwardly,  and  rendering  per- 
manent that  which  they  have  gained.  What  they 
have  added  to  growth  in  the  sjiring  they  take  the 
rest  of  the  season  to  solidify,  to  consolidate,  to 
perfect,  by  chemical  evolutions  ;  and  when  autumn 
comes,  tlie  year's  increase  is  so  tough  that  when  the 
tender  plants  that  laughed  at  tliese,  and  chided 
ihem,  and  accused  them  of  being  lazy,  are  laid  low 
by  the  frwst,  there  stand  my  rhododendrons,  holding 
out  their  green  leaves,  and  saying  to  November  and 
December,  "1  am  here  as  well  as  you."  And 
they  are  as  green  to-day  as  they  were  before  the 
winter  set  in. 

Now,  1  like  Christians  that  grow  fast  this  spring, 
and  hold  on  through  the  summer,  and  next  spring 
grow  again.  1  like  Christians  that,  having  grown 
for  a  time,  stop  and  organise  what  they  have  gained, 
and  then  start  again.  1  like  periodicity  in  Christian 
growth.  Antl  that  reproach  which  Christians  so 
often  heap  upon  themselves  and  each  other,  because 
they  are  not  constant  and  steady  in  their  develop- 
ment, frequently  arises  from  a  want  of  knowledge 
of  the  means  by  which  God  builds  up  human 
character.  — Beecher. 

4.  It  Is  sectional. 

(2531.)  The  Spirit  of  God  appears  not  in  all 
graces  at  once,  it  appears  sometime  or  other  in  some 
one  grace.  We  see  in  plants,  the  virtue  of  them 
appears  diversely.  In  winter  the  virtue  of  them 
lies  in  the  root  ;  in  the  spring-time,  in  the  bud  and 
the  leaf;  in  the  summer,  in  the  fruit;  it  is  not  in 
all  parts  alike.  So  it  is  with  the  Spirit.  As  it  is 
an  "earnest,"  it  appears  not  in  all  graces  in  a 
flourishing  manner  at  the  first.  Sometimes  it 
appears  in  the  root,  in  humility,  sometimes  in  faith, 
sometimes  in  love,  sometimes  in  one  grace,  .some- 
times in  another.  — Stbbes,  15 77-1 635. 

(2532.)  As  the  work  advances,  though  the  affec- 
tions are  not  left  out,  yet  it  seems  to  be  carried  on 
principally  in  the  understanding.  The  old  Chris- 
tian has  more  solid,  judicious,  and  connected  views 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  glories  of  His 
persoa  and   redeeming    love ;    hence   his   hope   is 


more  established,  his  dependence  more  simple,  and 
his  peace  and  strength,  cateris paribus,  more  abiding 
and  uniform,  thin  in  the  case  of  a  young  convert ; 
but  the  latter  has,  for  the  most  part,  the  advantage 
in  point  of  sensible  fervency.  A  tree  is  most  valu- 
able when  laden  with  ripe  fruit ;  but  it  has  a 
peculiar  beauty  when  in  blossom. 

— Newton,  1725-1807. 

6.  Yet  It  Is  continuous. 

(2533)  We  must  not  be  like  meteors,  which  soon 
after  tlieir  first  beginnings  make  the  greatest  show  ; 
nor  like  a  fire  of  thorns,  which  as  soon  as  it  is 
kindled  gives  the  fairest  blaze,  and  makes  the  most 
noise  and  crackling  ;  both  which  decrease  by  little 
and  little,  till  they  disappear  and  are  wholly  ex- 
tinguished ;  but  like  the  morning  light,  which  shineth 
more  and  more  unto  perfect  day.  We  must  not 
be  like  mushrooms,  which  come  to  their  perfection 
in  one  night's  growth  ;  but  trees  of  righteousness  of 
God's  planting,  which  are  still  in  growth,  and  bring 
forth  most  fiuit  in  old  age.  We  must  not  resemble 
suinmer  fruits,  which  are  soon  ripe  and  soon  rotten, 
and  best  of  taste  when  first  gathered  ;  but  winter 
fruits  and  long  lasters,  which  are  a  great  while  in 
coming  to  their  perfection,  and  reiish  best,  and 
give  wholesomest  nourishment  in  their  latter  end. 
— Doivnavie,  1644. 

(2534.)  The  growth  of  a  believer  is  not  like  a 
mushroom,  but  like  an  oak,  which  increases  slowly 
indeed,  but  surely.  Many  suns,  showers,  and  frosts, 
pass  upon  it  beiore  it  comes  to  perfection  ;  and  in 
winter,  when  it  seems  dead,  it  is  gai luring  strength  at 
the  root!  — A'lfzcto;,  1 725-1807. 

(2535.)  Observe  the  daybreak.  At  first  but  a 
beam  of  light  is  seen  to  glimmer  in  the  midst  of  the 
darkness,  and  the  night  still  seems  to  hold  its 
undisturbed  sway.  But  the  beam  becomes  slowly 
a  streak  of  light  shooting  its  ray  in  the  path  01 
heaven.  It  becomes  more  fixed  and  determinate 
in  its  character — it  increases— it  is  a  growing  light. 
There  is  a  mass  of  darkness  yet  around,  and  clouds 
still  hang  about  it — but  it  contends  successfully 
with  the  darkness,  still  it  penetrates — still  it  breaks 
through  the  hideous  mass — the  contest  is  no  longer 
(loubtlul,  the  clouds  and  shadows  flee  away.  But 
this  rising  beam,  at  first  so  faintly  seen  and  dimly 
visible,  would  have  been  soon  lost  and  overwhelmed 
in  the  darkness  which  it  invaded,  if  it  had  not  been 
a  beam  from  an  exhaustless  fountain  of  light,  tJie 
sun,  that  continued  to  send  fresh  supplies  of  light 
by  adding  beam  upon  beam.  And  now  it  pours  out 
its  effulgent  rays,  and  now  this  dawning  beam  is 
become  a  bright  and  glorious  sun,  ascending 
majestically  the  heavens,  the  mighty  creative 
principle  of  fruitfulness,  ripening,  maturing,  and 
enriching  the  earth,  and  in  its  brightness  showing 
forth  a  faint  image  of  its  Makei's  glory.  Staking 
emblem  of  the  believer's  progress  !  At  first  spiri- 
tually dead,  midnight  rests  upon  his  soul  ;  but  he 
awakes  at  the  voice  of  Him  who  cries,  "Awake, 
thou  that  sleepest,"  &c.  And  there  is  light  in  his 
soul  !  It  is  a  beam  from  the  Eternal  Spirit,  flashing 
conviction  of  his  sinfulness,  and  only  serving  to 
make  visible  to  him  the  darkness  and  misery  of  his 
benighted  state.  But  it  leads  him  on,  throygh 
many  perplexities,  in  his  inquiry  how  he  shall  find 
peace  with  God.  "His  feet  stumble  on  the  dark 
uiouniaiiiii,'-'  and  his  little  I'.ght  ai)pears  often  in 
danger  01  being  totally  eclipsed.     But  it  is  like  toe 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    437    ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


smoking  flax  wliich  shall  not  be  quenclied.  And 
he  has  learned  to  distinguish  it  at  last  as  the  true 
light ;  and  that  which  was  but  a  beam  becomes  a 
light  shining  in  darkness  ;  and  as  he  continues  to 
follow  it,  It  at  last  guides  him  to  the  cross,  and  he 
is  enabled  steaiiily  to  gaze  upon  Him  who  is  the 
Light  of  the  worUt.  From  Christ,  who  was  raised 
from  that  cross  with  power,  he  receives  "grace  for 
grace."  And  now  behold  him;  "  lookmg  unto 
Jesus,  he  runs  the  race  that  is  set  before  him.  casting 
off  every  weight,",  and  "  like  the  sun  when  he  goetli 
forth  in  his  s  rength."  Now  he  causes  his  liglit  to 
shine  out,  and  men  beholding  his  good  works,  God 
is  glorified.  He  is  the  cause  of  fruitfulness  to 
Others,  and  reflects  his  Maker's  image  in  ihe  beauty 
of  holiness.  — ^aUer. 

(2536.)  The  spiritual  kingdom  within  you  comes 
not  "by  observation."  It  is  a  growth;  so  that 
you  must  not  look  for  violent  or  sudiien  changes  in 
yourself.  Remember  that  the  waters  of  the  stream, 
however  slowly  they  may  at  limes  appear  to  move, 
yet,  by  never  stopping  on  their  journey,  are  sure 
to  reach  the  great  sea.  Let  your  progress  towards 
godliness  be  like  that  of  the  gentle  stream  which 
never  murmurs  nor  chafes  nor  dashes  against  its 
banks,  but  keeps  overflowing  on  and  on,  until  ii 
fulfils  ihe  task  which  God  has  set  it,  and  loses  its 
own  littleness  by  mingling  with  the  mighty  waters. 

— A.  Ilaie. 

(2537.)  It  is  not  by  fits  and  starts  that  men 
become  holy.  It  is  not  occasional,  but  continuous, 
pioloiiged,  and  life-long  efloris  that  are  required  ;  to 
be  daily  at  it ;  alwa\s  at  it  ;  resting  but  to  renew 
the  work  ;  falling  but  to  rise  again.  It  is  not  by  a 
few,  rough,  spasmodic  blows  of  the  hammer,  that  a 
graceful  statue  is  brought  out  of  the  marble  block, 
but  by  the  labour  of  continuous  days,  and  many 
delicate  touches  oi  the  sculptor's  chisel.  It  is  not 
a  sudilen  gush  of  water,  tlie  roaring  torrent  of  a 
summer  flood,  but  a  continuous  flow,  '.hat  wears  the 
rock,  and  a  constant  dropping  that  hollows  out 
the  stone.  It  is  not  with  a  rush  and  a  spring  that 
we  are  10  reach  Christ's  character,  attain  to  perfect 
saintship  ;  but  step  by  step,  foot  by  foot,  hand  over 
hand,  we  are  slowly  and  often  painfully  to  mount 
the  ladder  that  rests  on  eartli,  and  rises  to  heaven. 

— Guthne. 

(2538.)  We  are  to  increase  constantly.  This 
Idea  is  embodied  in  all  those  figures  under  which 
our  spiritual  life  is  set  forth  in  the  Word  of  God. 

Is  it  a  seeil  ?  So  soon  as  the  seed  is  quickened 
ill  the  soil  it  grows;  grows  by  night  and  by  day  ; 
fi[rows  beneath  the  foot  that  tramples  on  it ;  piercing 
the  rugged  clod,  turning  and  twining  to  round  the 
corner  of  a  stone,  it  shoots  its  way  upward,  till  it 
emerges  into  the  blessed  light,  and  drinks  the  dews 
of  heaven  ;  and  under  iheir  influences,  on  and  ever 
on  it  grows,  rises  and  ripens,  till  sicklfS  flash,  and 
reapers  sing  where  winter  howled  over  dead  fields 
of  snow. 

Is  It  the  day?  From  the  first  faint  streak  of 
light  that  our  eye  catches  in  the  eastern  horizon, 
how  steadily  it  grows  !  hill  and  dale,  town  and 
hamlet,  woods  and  winding  river,  shore  and  sea, 
becoming  more  and  more  distinct  ;  one  star  dis- 
appearing after  another  in  the  grey  sky  ;  the  fleecy 
clouds  clianging  into  opal,  and  amber,  and  purple, 
tnd  burning  gold,  until  the  sun  s^irings  up,  naming 


from  his  ocean  bed  ;  and  the  daisies  open  theii 
golden  eyes,  and  the  birds  sing  for  joy,  and  the 
waves  flash  and  dance  in  light,  and  the  earth 
rejoices  in  perfect  day. 

Is  it  human  life?  Hanging  on  a  mother's  bosrm  ; 
sleeping,  and  by  and  by  with  wakening  intelligt-nce 
smiling  in  her  arms  ;  on  little  feet  balanciig  itself 
so  beautifully  ;  trying  its  first  tottering  s'tps  ; 
speaking  its  first  stammering  words;  its  afl'ections 
and  faculties  opening  like  the  petals  of  a  flower, 
how  does  the  infant  develop  itself  with  each 
successive  year  !  Infancy  growing  into  prattling 
childhood  ;  childhood  into  blooming  youth  ;  youth 
into  ripened  manhood,  till  the  hand  that  once 
played  with  coral  and  bells,  yonder  amid  royal 
pageant,  and  the  blare  of  trumpets,  and  the  boom 
of  cannon,  waves  the  sceptre  of  em]iire  over  an 
acclaiming  throng — or  till  the  voice  that  was  once 
but  a  feeble  wail,  commands  on  the  reehng  deck, 
or  amid  the  roar  of  battle  ;  here  stirs  the  deepest 
passions,  or  there  stills  the  tumults  of  the  people. 

Such  is  the  way  that  we  should  grow  ;  should 
pray,  should  labour,  and  should  strive  to  grow. 
Slow  and  silent,  growth  is  a  thing  which  you  neither 
see  nor  hear ;  yet  mark  in  these  cases  what  its 
steady,  constant  progress  achieves  in  the  natural 
world.  Should  it  do  less  in  the  spiritual  ?  Is 
God  less  omnipotent  in  grace  than  nature?  By 
no  means.  "My  grace,"  He  says,  "  is  sufficient  for 
thee;"  sufficient  for  that.  Would  we  rise  every 
morning  both  to  get  and  to  do  some  good  ;  to  cul- 
tivate some  grace  and  mortify  some  sin  ;  to  live 
more  holily  than  yesterday — not  to  say  its  bad 
words,  nor  indulge  its  bad  wishes,  nor  lepeat  its 
bad  deeds ;  to  learn  from  the  experience  of  the 
past  where  we  should  watch,  which  is  our  weak 
side,  what  are  our  besetting  sins,  takiag  such  pre- 
cautions as  a  man  who  strengthens  the  dyke  where 
the  last  flood  broke  through,  or  doubles  his  sentries 
where  the  enemy  last  s.irprised  him — what  progress 
we  should  make  !  we  should  be  a  stage  nearer 
heaven  every  day.  If  not  every  day,  every  year,  at 
least,  would  present  a  palpable,  sensible  difference. 
It  is  not,  but  it  should  be,  as  easy  to  tell  how  long 
it  is  since  we  were  born  the  second  time,  as  the 
first  ;  our  spiritud  as  our  natural  age  ;  the  ye.irs  of 
our  new  life  as  those  of  a  tree  which  we  count  by  the 
rings  that  every  season  adds  to  its  circumference. 

—  Guthrie. 

6.  It  is  cumulative  In  its  rate. 

(2539  )  Even  the  tired  horse,  when  he  comes 
near  iiome,  mends  his  pace  :  be  good  always,  with- 
out weariness,  but  best  at  last  ;  that  the  nearer 
thou  comest  to  the  end  of  thy  days,  the  nearer  thou 
mayest  be  to  the  end  of  thy  hopes,  the  salvation  of 
thy  soul.  — Adams,  1653. 

{2540.)  In  natural  motions  the  nearer  anything 
comes  to  its  end  the  swifter  it  moves.  1  have  seen 
great  rivers,  which  at  their  first  rising  might  be 
covered  with  a  bushel,  which  after  many  mdes  fill  a 
very  broad  channel,  and,  diawing  near  to  the  sea 
do  even  make  a  liitle  sea  in  their  own  bank>.  .So 
the  wind,  at  the  first  rising  as  a  little  vapour  from 
the  crannies  of  the  earth,  and  pass.ng  tor  ^ard 
about  the  earth,  the  further  it  goes  the  more 
blustering  and  violent  it  waxes.  A  Christian's 
motion,  after  he  is  regenerate,  is  made  natural  to 
God-ward  ;  and,  therefore,  the  nearer  he  comes  to 
Heaven  the  more  zealous  he  is.  A  good  man  must 
not   be  like   j^zckiel's  sun,   that  went  backward ; 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    438    ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


nor  like  Joshua's  sun,  that  stood  still  ;  but  like 
David's  sun,  that,  like  a  liridei^room,  comes  out  of 
his  chamber,  and  as  a  chani[iion  rejoices  to  run 
his  race.  Only  herein  is  the  difference,  that  when 
he  covaQs  to  his  high  noon,  he  declinelh  not. 

—nail,  1574-1656. 

(2541.)  Every  living  fruit-tree  is  in  some  measure 
fruitful  ;  though  some  bring  forth  more  fruit,  some 
less,  yet  all  l)ring  forth  some.  All  living  Christians 
are  thriving  and  bearing  fruit  ;  thouyh  some  are 
more  eminent  for  growth  and  proficiency  in  grace, 
yet  all  bring  forth  "fruits  meet  for  repentance." 
The  hypocrite,  like  a  dead  stake  in  a  hedge,  continues 
at  a  stay,  is  without  good  fruit,  nay,  grows  more 
rotten  every  month  ;  but  the  true  snint,  like  the  living 
tree,  the  longer  he  continues  rooteti  in  Christ  the 
more  abundant  he  is  in  the  work  of  the  Lord. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(2542.1  The  more  grace  tliou  hast,  the  easier  it 
will  be  to  add  to  it  ;  as  a  little  learning  is  got  with 
more  difficulty  by  a  young  scholar  than  a  great  deal 
afterward.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2543.)  As  rivers,  the  nearer  they  come  to  the 
ocean  whither  they  tend,  the  more  they  increase 
their  waters  and  sjieed  their  streams  ;  so  will  grace 
flow  more  fully  and  freely  in  its  near  approaches  to 
the  ocean  of  glory.  — Owen,  1616-16S3. 

{2544.)  It  is  with  the  believer  under  the  influences 
of  the  Spirit  as  with  fruit  ripening  beneath  the 
genial  influence  of  heaven's  dews  and  sunbeams, 
llard  at  first,  it  grows  soft  ;  sour  at  first,  its  juices 
become  sweet  ;  green  at  first,  it  assumes  in  time  a 
rich  and  mellow  colour  ;  at  first  adhering  tenaciously 
to  the  tree,  when  it  becomes  ripe,  it  is  ready  to  drop 
at  the  slightest  touch.  So  with  the  man  who  is 
ripening  for  heaven.  His  affections  and  temper 
grows  sweet,  soft,  mellow,  loose  from  earth  and 
earthly  things.  He  comes  away  readily  to  the 
hand  of  death,  and  leaves  the  world  without  a 
wrench.  — Guthrie. 

VII.    SHOULD    BE  SYMMETRICAL. 

(2545.)  To  grow  in  grace  is  to  grow  not  only  in 
one  grace  but  in  all  graces.  It  is  the  harmonious 
development  of  an  entire  Christian  character  ;  as 
in  the  healthful  growth  of  a  tree,  there  will  be  not 
only  growth  of  roots,  but  of  stock,  branches,  leaves, 
and  fruit  —John  M'Leod. 

(2546.)  Some  saints  are  remarkable  for  having 
one  grace  in  peculiar  prominence — faith,  for  in- 
stance ;  or  resignation  ;  or  courage  ;  or  zeal  ;  or 
benevolence.  Yet  though  this  peculiarity  may  draw 
most  eyes  upon  them,  and  win  them  most  praise, 
if  not  "in  all  the  churches,"  in  their  neighbour- 
hood, or  even  in  their  nation,  these  are  not  the 
most  perfect  specimens  of  Christianity.  For  it  is 
with  men  as  with  trees,  amongst  which  the  least 
symmetrical  may  be  the  most  noticeable.  The 
more  perfect  the  shape  of  the  tree,  the  more  sym- 
metrical the  proportion  between  its  trunk  and 
branches,  between  its  height  and  width,  it  strikes 
the  eye  the  less  ;  and  it  is  only  on  a  near  approach 
and  closer  scrutiny  that  we  take  in  its  size,  and 
gaze  with  wonder  on  its  towering  form  and  enor- 
mous girth. 

The  finest  specimen  of  a  Christian  is  he  in  whom 
all  the  graces,  like  the  strings  of  an  angel's  harp, 


are  in  the  most  perfect  harmony.  Therefore,  we 
are  to  beware  of  cultivating  one  grace  or  attending 
to  any  one  duty  at  the  expense  of  others.  The 
head,  the  heart,  and  the  hand,  doctrine,  devotion, 
and  work,  should  each  have  their  due  share  of  our 
time  and  attention  ;  we  working  on  our  life  like 
the  ancient  sculptor  on  the  dead  marble,  when  he 
produced  forms  where  each  feature  was  not  only 
beautiful  in  itself,  but  in  perfect  proportion  also  to 
every  other.  On  this  account  these  statues  of  his 
divinities  are  the  admiration  of  all  ages,  being  the 
perfect  models  of  men  and  women.  Even  so,  it  is 
by  growing  equally  in  the  knowledge,  and  the  love, 
and  the  life  of  Christ,  that  we  are  to  reach  the  true 
model  of  a  Christian  ;  and,  to  use  I'aul's  words, 
"grow  into  a  perfect  man,  unto  the  measuie  of  the 
stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ."  — Guthrie. 

VIII.    HINDRANCES    TO   IT. 

(2547.)  As  we  see  the  sun  when  it  is  weak  in  the 
rising  in  the  morning :  there  gather  a  great  many 
vapours  to  besiege  the  sun,  as  it  were,  as  if  they 
would  put  out  the  light  of  it,  till  it  comes  to  fuller 
strength,  and  then  it  spends  them  all,  and  shines 
gloriously  in  heaven.  So  it  is  with  the  work  of  the 
Spirit  of  grace.  When  it  first  arises  in  the  soul, 
there  gathers  about  it  a  great  many  doubts  and  dis- 
comforts. — Sibbes,  1 577-1635. 

(2548.)  It  is  made  a  matter  of  surprise  that  many 
professors  are  so  unfruitlul  amidst  so  much  seeming 
diligence  in  spiritual  things.  You  go  into  a  garden 
and  behold  a  stately  fruit-tree  spreading  its  branches, 
and  covered  with  abundant  blossom,  and  conclude 
that  in  the  fall  of  the  year  it  will  be  loaded  with 
fruit.  Some  months  after,  you  again  see  the  tree, 
expecting  fruit  on  it,  and  you  are  surprised  to  find 
none.  On  looking  closer  into  it,  you  see  the  re- 
mains of  a  blight,  which  exjilains  the  matter.  It  is 
so  with  many  a  professor  in  the  Church.  He  stands 
as  a  tree  in  the  vineyard,  and  he  is  diligent  in  the 
use  of  all  the  public  ordinances ;  he  bears  the 
blossoms  of  an  abundant  promise,  but  months  and 
years  roll  away,  and  yet  there  is  no  real  fruitfulness  ; 
he  is  a  barren  tree,  though  covered  thickly  with  the 
leaves  and  blossoms  of  profession.  How  is  this? 
Look  narrowly,  and  you  will  find  a  blight  has  come 
upon  the  man,  and  destroyed  all  chance  of  fruit. 
One  is  blighted  with  impenitence,  another  with 
pride  or  uncharitableness,  a  thiid  with  worklliness 
or  covetousness  :  it  is  this  which  mars  the  growth 
of  grace,  and  this  explains  the  seeming  mystery. 

— Salter,  1840. 

(2549.)  It  is  more  than  likely,  if  we  are  hanging 
back  in  the  Christian  course,  either  that  we  are  not 
surrendering  our  wills  honestly  and  unreservedly 
to  God,  to  be  and  to  do  as  He  bids  us,  and  virtu- 
ally saying,  "  I  will  not  work  at  ail,  because  it  is 
God  that  worketh  in  me;"  or,  secondly,  that,  from 
a  mistake  as  to  the  nature  of  sanctification,  we  are 
really  looking  to  our  own  miserable  efforts  to 
sanctify  us — putting  a  round  of  ordinances,  and 
duties,  and  performances,  into  the  place  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  virtually  saying,  "It  is  I  who  work  in 
my.self,  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  God's  good 
pleasure." 

By  way  of  illustrating  these  contrary  errors  more 
clearly,  let  us  imagine  the  case  of  a  patient  placed 
under  a  physician  of  most  eminent  skill,  who  hai 
closely  studied  similar  cases,  and  heretofore  infai- 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(    439    ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE, 


libly  restored  them  by  his  treatment — making  no 

f)rot;;ress.  Recovery  seems  to  be,  on  the  whole,  as 
ar  ofTas  when  he  first  consulted  the  physician,  and 
even  if  one  day  there  seems  to  be  a  little  improve- 
ment, the  next  day  the  hopes  to  which  that  im- 
provement ^'ave  rise,  are  thrown  back  ;  if  symptoms 
are  somewhat  repressed,  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  the  malady  is  still  there.  Now, 
supposing  the  i)hysician  s  skill  to  be  abundantly 
competent  to  a  radical  cure,  it  is  evident  tliat  the 
non-recovery  must  spring  from  tlie  patient's  never 
having  lairly  surrendered  himself  into  the  physician's 
hands.  And  this  want  of  an  entire  surrender  may 
take  one  of  two  forms.  Either  the  patient  may  not 
imiilicitly  follow  the  pliysician's  orders;  or,  not 
having  a  full  trust  in  him,  and  being  persuaded  of 
the  efficacy  of  certain  other  systems  of  medicine,  he 
niny  be  giving  those  systems  a  trial  side  by  side 
witii  the  course  wliich  physicians  prescribe,  and 
thereliy  nullifying  the  efficacy  of  that  course.  The 
niit  following  the  physician's  prescriptions,  or  the 
following  his  own  theories  as  well,  both  may  ei]ually 
deleat  h.s  recovery.  —  Goulburn. 

(2550.)  What  are  the  conditions,  which  alone 
could  frustrate  the  progress  upon  a  river  of  a  strong 
man  and  an  expert  rower,  placed  in  a  good  and 
swift  boat,  and  furnished  with  oars?  Such  an  one 
might  either  not  use  the  oars  at  all,  or  use  only  one 
of  them  ;  and  the  result  in  each  case  would  be 
practically  much  the  same.  In  both  crises  the  boat 
would  drift  with  the  stream  ;  and  the  only  tlifference 
would  be,  that  when  one  oar  was  vigorously  applied, 
the  boat,  in  addition  to  drifting,  would  move  round 
and  round  in  a  circle,  and  might  perhaps  for  a  while 
mock  the  rower  by  the  semblance  of  progress.  In 
spiritual  things  there  are  those  who  are  utterly 
careless  and  godless — dead  alike  to  the  claims  of 
religion,  and  to  its  hopes.  These  are  they  \<i\\o, 
launched  upon  the  stream  of  life,  quietly  drift  down 
it,  giving  no  thought  to  the  life  which  is  to  come 
after,  and  seeking  only  to  gather  the  few  perishable 
flowers  which  grow  upon  the  brink.  And,  among 
persons  of  more  serious  mind,  there  are  those  who 
are  willing  indeed  that  Christ  should  do  all  for 
them,  but  have  never  surrendered  themselves  to 
llim  to  be  and  do  all  that  He  requires.  And  there 
are  those,  on  the  other  hand,  who  have  surrendered 
the  M  ill  to  Christ,  and  are  making  efforts  to  obey 
llim;  hut  because  they  perceive  not  this  simple 
truth,  that  they  cannot  sanctify  themselves,  that 
sanclification  from  first  to  last,  like  justification, 
must  be  wrought  for  us  by  llim — are  constantly 
met  by  failures  and  disappointments,  which  a  simple 
trust  in  Him  to  do  all  for  them  can  alone  remedy. 
Both  these  last  are  they  who  are  rowing  with  one 
oar,  moving  indeed,  but  moving  in  a  circle,  and 
coming  round  always  to  the  same  point  from  which 
they  started — deluding  themselves  for  a  while  by 
the  very  fact  of  their  motion,  with  the  idea  that 
they  are  progressing,  and  often  bitterly  complain- 
ing, as  soon  as  they  are  undeceived,  that  they  are 
making  no  way.  And  finally,  there  are  those  who 
are  equally  well  contented  to  give  all  to  Christ 
which  they  have  to  give  (that  is,  their  will),  and 
to  take  all  from  Him  which  He  has  to  give,  sancti- 
fication,  and  wisdom,  as  well  as  righteousness — 
who  in  one  and  the  same  act  of  faith  have  renounced 
both  self-will  and  self-trust.  These  are  th*ey  who 
are  rowing  with  two  oars,  and  so  realising  a  true 
progress  tswa.rds  that  haven  where  they  would  'oe. 


Show  me  a  man  who  is  both  giving  to  Christ  all  he 
has  to  give,  that  is,  his  will,  and  at  the  same  time 
taking  from  Christ  all  Christ  has  to  give,  which  ia 
a  perfect  salvation  from  sin's  guilt,  power,  and  con- 
sequences ;  or,  as  the  Apostle  expresses  it,  "wisdom, 
itiid  righteousness,  and  sanclification,  and  redemp- 
tion ;"  and  I  will  show  you  a  man  who  is  growing 
in  grace,  and  advancing  daily  in  meetness  for  the 
inheritance  of  tiie  saints  in  light.  And  if  we  find 
ourselves  not  thus  growing  and  advancing,  and  yet 
are  certainly  well-disposed  persons  of  some  serious- 
ness of  mind,  it  is,  no  doubt,  that  we  are  endeavour- 
ing to  push  the  boat  forward  with  only  one  of  the 
oars,  to  reach  that  holiness  without  which  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord,  with  trust  in  Christ  alone,  or 
with  self-surrender  alone.  Apply  the  other  oar 
simultaneously,  and  the  bark  shall  at  once  begin  to 
cleave  the  water,  as  an  arrow  cleaves  the  air,  straight 
forward.  — Goulburn. 

IX.    PROOFS  OF  ITS  REALITY. 

1.  IncreasiEg  spiritual  discernment. 

(2551.)  The  first  sign  of  our  growing,  is  when  wo 
are  got  beyond  our  former  measures  of  grace  :  a 
sign  a  child  thrives,  when  he  hath  outgrown  his 
clothes,  his  clothes  are  too  little  for  him.  That 
knowledge  which  would  serve  us  before,  will  not 
serve  us  now  ;  we  have  a  deeper  insight  into  re- 
ligion, our  light  is  clearer,  our  spark  of  love  is 
increased  into  a  flame  ;  there  is  a  sign  of  growth. 
That  competency  of  grace  we  once  had,  is  too 
scanty  for  us;  we  have  outgrown  ourselves. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2552.)  Growth  in  grace,  moreover,  is  accom- 
panied by  inc?easing  spiritual  discerntnent.  Thus 
the  advancing  Christian  grows  more  and  more  alive 
to  the  requirements  of  the  Divine  law,  and  the  sole 
ability  of  Jesus  Christ  to  meet  those  requirements. 
Just  as  the  chamber  widch,  through  the  deceptive  twi- 
light, while  the  shadows  were  clinging  and  hovering 
dimly  in  every  corner,  appeared  to  be  swept,  and 
cleaned,  and  garnished,  no  sooner  grows  pervaded 
by  the  strengthening  and  honest  beam  of  day,  than 
the  choking  dust,  lying  thick  upon  each  article,  is 
visible,  and  the  unsightly  cobweb  is  seen  weaved 
over  every  crevice;  —  so  do  the  chambers  of  the 
Christian's  imagery,  which  seemed  to  be  pure  and 
comely  by  a  merely  moral  light,  look  polluted  and 
deliled  under  the  searching  glare  of  the  candle  of 
sjiiritual  heart-searching,  until  all  other  images,  like 
shattered  Dagons,  are  expelled,  and  the  image  of 
Christ  crucified  is  shrined  there  alone. 

— Mursell. 

2.  More  successful  resistacce  to  temptation. 

(2553.)  Another  sign  of  this  spiritual  progress 
will  'ue  apparent  in  increasing  steadiness  and  success 
in  the  resistance  of  toiiptation. 

In  most  instances  resistance  is  the  measure  of 
force.  The  sea-wall  which  will  not  shake  or  shatter 
before  the  interminable  squadrons  of  plumed  waves 
which  are  marshalled  against  it,  but  which  hurls 
them  back  all  scattered  into  spume,  and  proudly 
wails  another  billowy  charge,  gives  proof  of  its 
strength,  and  shows  that  it  was  a  cunning  mason 
who  knit  the  work  together.  The  phalanx  which 
sustains  the  rush  of  legion  after  legion,  led  on  by 
martial  generals,  but  which  will  not  draw  back  its 
fool,  and  fills  up  with  more  pioud  breast  the  gaps 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


(     440     ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE, 


which  the  sword  has  thinned  ;  such  a  band  shows 
rtiength,  .ad  testifies  to  the  moral  discipline  of  its 
generalship.  And  so,  the  more  steady  the  Chris- 
tian's resi.st\nce  to  the  atiacks  of  temptation  and 
the  assaults  of  sin  the  greater  is  the  power  of  Divine 
grace  in  the  soul.  '1  he  natural  man  makes  no 
stand.  He  rather  goes  over  to  the  enemy.  Tliere  is 
affinity  in  sin,  not  repugnance.  Neither  does  the 
converted  man,  all  at  once,  attain  liie  full  power  of 
resistance,  because  he  cannot,  all  at  once,  learn  to 
look  entirely  To,  and  lean  entirely  ON  Jesus.  The 
young  conscript  will  often  show  more  apparent  zeal 
against  sin  than  the  advanced  Christian  ;  but  it  is 
olten  the  mere  novelty  of  the  position  which  inspires 
him — it  ispassiitn  rather  Hiaxx principle  which  governs 
him.  But  it  is  the  force  of  deep-seated  principle 
which  causes  the  hands  of  the  veteran  to  war,  and 
his  fingers  to  fight.  The  old  soldier  does  not  battle 
the  less  valiantly  when  the  enemy  is  before  him, 
because  he  does  not  brandish  his  sword  so  swag- 
gerini,'ly  on  parade.  It  xi, purpose,  and  not  impulse, 
by  which  the  old  soldier  is  guided.  And  it  is  the 
veteran,  not  the  recruit,  who  makes  the  fewest  re- 
lapses, is  most  seldom  disgraced  by  a  repulse,  and 
who  gains  the  more  frequent  and  most  signal 
victories,  — Mursell. 

3.  Greater  patience  under  aflaiction. 

(2554.)  Growth  of  faith  is  judged  by  strength. 
We  can  do  that  now  which  we  coulu  not  ao  Defoi«,. 
When  one  is  iran-grown,  he  can  do  that  which  he 
could  :,ot  do  when  he  was  a  child  ;  he  can  carry  a 
heavier  burden  :  so  thou  canst  bear  crosses  with 
more  patience,  — Watson,  1696. 

4.  A  more  exact  performance  of  duty. 

(2555,)  The  more  exact  and  accurate  a  man  is 
in  duty  the  more  he  grows  in  grace  ;  and  the  more 
he  grows  in  grace  the  more  exact  and  accurate  he 
grows  in  his  duty.  He  that  writes  better  than  he 
did  before  does  not  write  more  paper  or  make  more 
letters,  only  he  writes  more  exactly  and  accurately. 
So  the  Christian  does  not  perform  more  duties  than 
he  did  before,  but  the  same  more  exactly, 

—Bridge,  1600-1670. 

6.  Increased  delight  In  duty. 

(2556.)  Growth  of  faith  is  seen  by  doing  duties 
in  a  more  spiritual  manner,  viz.,  with  fervency  ;  we 
put  coals  to  the  incense,  from  a  principle  of  love  to 
God,  When  an  apple  hath  done  grow.ing  in  big- 
ness, it  grows  in  sweetness  ;  thou  dost  duties  in 
love,  and  now  art  sweeter,  and  come  oflT  with  a 
better  relish,  — Watson,  1696, 

(2557.)  It  ought  to  grow  more  and  more  easy  to 
Christians  to  do  right,  until  at  last  the  acts  that 
were  soie  self-denial  become  a  pleasure. 

When  this  has  come  to  pass  do  not  be  frightened, 
and  begin  to  doubt  your  piety.  Be  glad  and  grate- 
ful, for  your  graces  are  growing  ripe. 

What  was  once  sour  and  bitter  has  become  sweet 
and  agreeable. 

When  you  first  entered  the  Christian  path,  you 
found  it  hard  to  do  those  things  as  conscience  com- 
manded, and  you  were  often  tempted  to  cry  out, 
•'Thy  paths  are  not  the  paths  of  peace,  O  God  !  " 

Y(ju  were  as  children  who,  hearing  their  father 
discourse  of  the  rare  and  luscious  app'es  that  his 
orchard  yielded,  straightway  ran  thither,  expecting, 
though  it  was  in  the  early  summer,  to  be  able  10 


judge  of  the  flavour  of  the  fruit.  Biting  into  it, 
they  cry  with  wry  features,  spitting  and  casting  the 
apples  to  the  ground,  "Is  this  the  perfumeil,  sac- 
charine flavour  our  father  talks  cf?  We  want  no 
more  of  it," 

The  miser,  when  converted,  finds  that  he  must 
be  a  miser  no  more.  He  sees,  perhaps,  that  duty 
requires  him  to  give  fifty  dollars  to  a  poor  man. 
He  wishes  that  twenty-five  would  do  ;  but  it  won't 
do.  He  knows  that.  He  puts  his  hand  into  his 
pocket  and — considers.  He  tries  to  go  away  with- 
out giving  the  sum, 

"  Do  it — do  it,"  growls  conscience  from  within. 

The  man  casts  down  the  money  hastily  and  runs 
away. 

That  was  a  victory,  but  a  hard  and  painful  one  ; 
and  the  miser  finds  himself  put  through  years  of 
just  such  discipline,  until  at  last  he  is  a  miser  no 
more. 

Giving  has  become  a  blessing  and  a  pleasure  to 
his  heart.  Shall  he  now  say,  dolefully,  "  I  fear 
I  am  not  a  true  Christian.  I  cannot  see  that  I 
carry  any  cross,  or  deny  myself  any,  as  once  1  did. 
Why,  1  remember  when  it  was  like  crucifixion  to 
give  away  five  dollars.  But  I  overcame  nature  and 
gave  it,  and  then  I  had  sure  evidence  that  the  root  of 
the  matter  was  in  me.  But  now — oh  !  I'm  so  much 
at  ease  now,  something  must  certainly  be  wrong — ■ 
nothing  seems  to  try  me." 

Why,  man,  your  graces  are  growing  fully  ripe. 

— Beeclier. 

6.  A  diminishing  aversion  from  death. 

(2558.)  Maturity  in  grace  makes  us  willing  to 
part  with  worldly  goods  ;  the  green  apple  needs  a 
sharp  twist  to  separate  it  from  tlie  bough,  but  the 
ripe  fruit  parts  readily  from  the  wood.  Maturity  in 
grace  makes  it  easier  to  part  with  life  itself;  the 
unripe  pear  is  scarcely  beaten  down  with  much 
labour,  while  its  mellow  companion  drops  readily 
into  the  hand  with  the  slightest  shake.  Rest  as- 
sured that  love  to  the  things  of  this  life,  and  cleav- 
ing to  this  present  state,  are  sure  indications  of 
immaturity  in  the  divine  life.  — Spurgeon, 

{2559.)  The  sixth  and  last  sign  of  this  growth 
which  we  notice,  is  a  deepened  composure  in  antici- 
pating death  and  eternity.  The  unregenerate  man 
may,  and  perhaps  does^  sometimes  think  of  death 
without  misgiving.  He  may  so  persuade  himself 
that  it  is  the  common  lot,  and  that  what  every  one 
has  to  submit  to  cannot,  after  all,  be  such  a  fearful 
and  formidable  thing,  that  he  actually  encounters 
it  without  dismay  ;  but  this  is  the  anticipation  of  a 
stolid  and  unrealising  apathy  ;  it  is  the  braggart 
confidence  of  self-compb.cency  or  self-sufficiency. 

But  the  Christian  anticipates  death  and  eternity 
with  a  complacency  which  he  derives  fi-om  Him 
who  hath  abolished  death  and  illumed  eternity. 
He  does  not  sullenly,  though  quietly,  su/nnit  to 
death  as  an  inexorable  intruder  who  will  not  be 
denied,  simply  because  he  has  no  alternative  except 
submission  ;  but  he  hails  the  monster  as  a  libcratot 
who  comes  to  disenchain  a  captive  tiiirsting  to  be 
free.  I  le  has  a  welcome  for  the  last  enemy — a  wel- 
come which  springs  right  from  his  heart.  Talk  to 
him  of  death,  and  you  talk  to  him  of  liberty  ;  you 
tell  him  of  one  who  strikes  off  the  dungeon  bars, 
and  unclasps  the  detaining  gyves.  He  knows  that 
what  is  sown  cannoi  be  quickened  except  it  Jie; 
and  with  the  aaticipation  pulses  of  that  quickening 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


{    441     ) 


GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 


already  throbbing  in  his  soul,  he  cries,  *'  C»  death, 
where  is  thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?" 
He  fraternises  with  death  because  it  manumits  him, 
and  gives  him  freedom  to  go  to  Christ,  which  is  far 
better.  He  knows  that  if  he  would  be  with  Jesus 
he  must  follow  Him  even  through  the  tomb  ;  and 
with  the  pleasure  of  eternal  union  with  Him  in  view, 
he  is  not  only  ''ready  to  be  offered,"  but  he  "has 
a  desire  to  depart."  — Mursell. 

X.    ITS   REWARDS. 

(2560. )  The  growth  of  grace  will  hinder  the  growth 
of  corruption.  The  more  health  grows,  the  more 
the  distempers  of  the  body  abate  :  so  it  is  in  spirit- 
uals ;  the  more  humility  grows,  the  more  the  swell- 
ing of  priile  is  assuaged  ;  the  more  purity  of  heart 
grows,  the  more  the  fire  of  lust  is  abated.  The 
growth  of  flowers  in  the  garden  doth  not  hinder  the 
growing  of  weeds  ;  but  the  growing  of  this  flower  of 
grace  hinders  the  sprouting  of  corruption.  As  some 
plants  have  an  antipathy,  and  will  not  thrive  if  they 
grow  near  together,  as  the  vine  and  the  bay-tree ; 
so,  where  grace  grows,  sin  will  not  thrive  so  fast. 

—  IVatson,  1696. 

(2561.)  The  more  we  grow  in  grace,  the  more 
will  God  love  us.  Is  it  not  that  v\e  pray  for?  the 
more  growth,  the  more  will  God  love  us.  The 
husbandman  loves  his  thriving  plants  ;  the  thriving 
Christian  is  God's  Hephziban,  or  chief  delight. 
Christ  loves  to  see  the  vine  flourishing,  and  the 
pomegranates  budding  (Cant.  vi.  ii).  Christ  ac- 
cepts the  truth  of  grace,  but  commends  the  growth 
of  grace  :  "  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith,  no,  not 
in  Israel."  Would  you  be  as  the  beloved  disciple 
that  lay  in  Christ's  bosom  ?  would  you  have  much 
love  from  Christ?  labour  for  much  growth,  let  faith 
flourish  with  good  works,  and  love  increase  into 
zeal.  — Watson,  1696. 

(2562.)  The  more  we  grow  in  grace,  the  more 
we  shall  flourish  in  glory.  Though  every  vessel  of 
glory  shall  be  full,  yet  some  vessels  hold  more  :  he 
whose  i>ound  gained  ten  was  made  ruler  over  ten 
cities  (Luke  xix.  17).  — [Valson,  1696. 

XI.  SHOULD  INSPIRE  US  WITH  THANK- 
FULNESS. 

(2563.)  Let  Christians  be  thankful  for  the  least 
growth  ;  if  you  do  not  grow  so  much  in  assurance, 
bless  God  if  you  grow  in  sincerity  ;  if  you  do  not 
grow  so  much  in  knowledge,  bless  God  if  you  grow 
in  humility.  If  a  tree  grows  in  the  root,  it  is  a  true 
growth  ;  if  you  grow  in  the  root-grace  of  humility, 
it  is  as  needful  for  you  as  any  other  growth. 

—  ^VatsoM,  1696. 

XII.  CANNOT  BE    TOO   GREAT. 

^2564.)  We  cannot  grow  too  much  in  grace ; 
there  is  no  nimium,  no  excess  there.  The  body 
may  grow  too  great,  as  in  the  dropsy  ;  but  faith 
cannot  grow  too  great:  "Your  faith  groweth  ex- 
ceedingly ;"  here  was  exceeding,  yet  not  excess. 
As  a  man  cannot  have  too  much  health,  so  not  too 
much  grace.  Grace  is  the  beauty  of  holiness  (Ps. 
ex.  3).  We  cannot  have  too  much  spiritual  beauty  ; 
it  will  be  the  only  trouble  at  death,  that  we  have 
^rown  no  more  in  g-acc.  — IVatsnn,  1696. 


Xni.  IT  SHOULD  GO  ON  UNTIL  THE  END 
OF  LIFE. 

(2565.)  A  Christian  has  no  solstice,  no  highest 
point,  where  he  may  stand  still,  and  go  no  further. 
Much  less  has  he  any  equator,  where  days  and 
nights  are  equal,  that  is,  a  liberty  to  spend  as  much 
time  ill  as  well,  as  many  hours  in  sinful  pleasures 
as  in  religious  exercises.       — Donne,  1 573-1631. 

(2566.)  As  a  traveller  passeth  from  town  to  town 
till  he  come  to  his  inn  ;  so  the  Christian  from  virtue 
to  virtue  till  he  come  to  heaven. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(2567.)  Progress  in  piety  is  not  unfitly  compared 
to  a  building,  to  a  race,  to  the  morning  light,  and 
to  the  moon  that  waxes.  Houses  are  raised  from 
the  founilation  to  the  walls,  from  the  walls  to  the 
roof;  in  a  race,  men  run  on  to  the  goal  ;  the  morning 
light  is  brighter  and  brighter  till  the  noonday  ; 
and  the  moon  increases  more  and  more  till  it  conies 
to  the  full.  — Du  Moulin,  1 600-1684. 

(2568.)  \Vhat  was  suitable  to  us  once,  should  not 
satisfy  us  now.  The  man  outgrows  the  dress  of 
childhood.  Down  among  the  rocky  hollows  of  the 
sea  there  are  creatures  thai  cast  their  shell  year  by 
year  ;  and  up  among  the  storm-beaten  cliffs  of  the 
mountain,  year  by  year  al.>o,  the  moulting  eagle 
casts  her  feathers — these,  that  they  may  walk  in 
larger,  stronger  mail  ;  the  other,  that  she  may  soar 
on  broader  pinions,  and  to  hit^her  flights.  At  such 
increase  should  we  aim  ;  to  grow  more  busy  in  God's 
work  ;  to  spend  more  time  and  money  in  His 
service  ;  to  perform  greater  acts  of  self-denial  ;  to 
increase  both  in  the  hcavenliness  of  our  temper,  and 
in  the  generosity  of  our  gifts.  Not  content  with 
being  only  what  once  we  were,  and  doing  only 
what  once  we  did,  let  us  "covet  earnestly  the  best 
gifts;"  attempt  the  loftiest  heights  of  grace  ;  say- 
ing, with  the  holy  ambition  of  an  apostle,  "  When  I 
was  a  child,  1  spake  as  a  chiKI,  1  understood  as  a 
child,  I  thought  as  a  child  ;  but  when  I  became  a 
man  I  put  away  childish  things."  — Gutkriit. 

XIV.    IT  SHALL  GO  ON  FOR  EVER. 

(2569.)  The  nearer  we  reach  the  summit  of  a 
hill,  the  climb  is  harder  ;  and  the  higher  the  eagle 
soars,  ever  mounting  into  thinner  air,  its  flight 
grows  more  arthious.  Now,  both  in  the  case  of  the 
foot  that  has  climbeil  the  highest  Alp,  and  of  the 
wing  that  cleaves  the  sky  above  its  snowy  summit, 
there  is  a  point  where  progress  ceases — this  foot 
cannot  climb,  that  wing  can  fly  n  »  higher.  It  is 
quite  otherwise  with  spiritual  progress.  While  the 
hi,i;her  a  believer  rises  in  grace  his  ascent  becomes 
not  more  difficult  but  more  easy,  he  never  reaches  a 
point  where  progress  ceases.  B  gun  on  earth,  it  is 
continued  in  heaven  ;  the  field  that  lies  before  ut 
stretching  beyond  the  grave  and  above  the  stars  — 
illimitable  as  space  and  endless  as  eternity. 

Man,  physically  considered,  grows  into  maturity, 
stops,  and  then  returns  on  his  course.  The  descent 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hill  corresponding  with  the 
ascent  on  this,  he  goes  down  much  as  he  went  up. 
The  hair  drops  from  his  head  ;  the  teeth  fall  from 
his  jaws  ;  the  light  fades  in  his  eye  ;  he  enters  on 
the  stage  of  a  second  childhood  ;  and  at  length 
naked  as  he  came  from  his  mother's  womb,  nalti  d 
he  returns  thithei".     The  emblem  of  his  life  is  the 


HEARERS. 


(    44a    ) 


HEARERS. 


day  :  first  the  gray  dawn  ;  then  sunrise,  then  the 
S'.m  rtaming  in  the  zenith  ;  then  sinking  lower  and 
lower,  he  wheels  his  course  down  the  western  sky  ; 
then  lie  sets  ;  then  fading  twilight  ;  and  then  the 
depth  of  night.  Hut  how  unlike  this  to  the  progress 
of  the  immortal  spirit  !  With  a  course  ever  on- 
ward, upward,  God  ward,  it  presents  a  case  some- 
what analogous  to  the  mathematical  paradox  of 
two  bodies  that  are  ever  approacliing,  and  yet, 
though  moving  through  inhnite  space  and  for 
eternal  ages,  never  meet  ;  and  never  can  meet. 
Even  so,  though  they  shall  never  reach  the  inhnite 
height  and  perfection  of  divinity,  the  saints  in 
glory,  constantly  ascending,  shall  lie  ever  approach- 
ing it  ;  so  that  death  which,  in  a  sense,  makes  us 
perfect,  and  introduces  us  into  a  state  of  rest,  shall 
not  arrest  our  progress.  Our  life,  in  fact,  is  like  a 
ship  working  its  way  down  a  river,  where  the  water* 
grows  deeper,  and  the  banks  grow  wider,  and  the 
view  ex|iands  as  we  move  on,  till  at  death,  as  there, 
where  the  waves  roar  upon  the  bar,  we  shall  pass 
out  on  a  great,  broad,  shoreless  ocean,  on  which, 
with  no  limits  bounding  our  progress,  we  shall 
advance  evermoie  ;  growing  in  the  knowledge,  and 
love,  and  likeness  of  Christ  with  the  ages  of  eternity, 
increasing  yet  "more  and  more."  — Guihrie. 


HEARERS. 

1.  Various  kinds  of  hearers ; — 

(l.)  Drmusy  hearers. 

(2570.)  If  you  would  sanctify  the  Sabbath  by  dili- 
gent, attentive  hearing,  take  heed  of  drowsiness 
in  hearing  ;  drowsiness  shows  much  irreverence. 
How  lively  are  many  when  they  are  about  the 
world,  but  in  the  worship  of  God  how  drowsy,  as  if 
the  devil  had  given  tliem  some  opium  to  make 
them  sleep  !  A  drowsy  temper  is  very  absurd  and 
sinful.  Are  not  you  in  prayer  asking  pardon  of 
sin  ?  Will  the  prisoner  fall  asleep  when  he  is  beg- 
ging his  pardon  ?  In  the  preaching  of  the  Word,  is 
not  the  bread  of  life  broken  to  you  :  and  will  a 
man  fall  asleep  at  his  food  ?  Which  is  worse,  to 
stay  from  a  sermon,  or  sleep  at  a  sermon  ?  While 
you  sleep,  perhaps  the  truth  was  delivered  which 
might  have  converted  your  soul. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2571.)  Can  men  be  regardless  of  the  Word,  or 
drowsy  when  the  weighty  matters  of  eternity  are  set 
before  them?  We  preach  of  faith,  and  holiness  of 
life,  and  the  day  ol  judgment,  and  the  eternal 
recompenses  ;  here  is  life  and  death  set  before  you  ; 
and  doth  not  all  this  call  lor  serious  attention  ?  If 
a  letter  were  read  to  one  of  special  business,  where- 
in his  life  and  estate  were  concerned,  would  not  he 
be  very  serious  in  listening  to  that  letter?  In  the 
preaching  of  the  Word,  your  salvation  is  concerned  ; 
and  if  ever  you  would  attend,  it  should  be  now. 
"It  is  not  a  vain  thing  for  you,  because  it  is  your 
life."  — IVatsou,  1696. 

(2572.)  I  deny  not  but  that  a  child  of  God  may 
sometimes  through  weakness  and  indisposition  of 
body  drop  asleep  at  a  sermon,  but  it  is  not  voluntary 
or  ordinary.  The  sun  may  be  in  an  eclijjse,  but 
not  often;  if  sleeping  be  customary  and  allowed,  it 
is  a  very  bad  sign  and  a  profaning  of  the  ordinance. 
A  good  remedy  against  drowsiness  is  to  use  a  spare 
diet  upi  Tt  this  day.     ijuch  as  indulge  their  appetite 


too   much   on   a   Sabbath,   are  fitter  to  sleep  on  • 
couch  than  pray  in  the  temple.  — lyatson,  1696. 

(2.)  Inattentive  hearers. 

(2573.)  Thou  must  be  an  attentive  hearer  ;  he 
that  is  awake,  but  wanders  with  his  eye  or  heart, 
what  doth  he  but  sleep  with  his  eyes  open?  It 
were  as  good  the  servant  should  be  asleep  in  his 
bed,  as  when  up  not  to  mind  his  master's  business. 
—  Ournall,  1 6 1  7- 1 679. 

(2574.)  Vain  thoughts  in  hearing  anger  God.  If 
the  king  were  speakmg  to  one  of  his  subjects,  and 
he  should  not  give  heed  to  what  the  king  saith,  but 
be  thinking  on  another  i)usiness,  or  playing  with  a 
feather,  would  not  this  provoke  the  king?  So, 
when  we  are  in  God's  presence,  and  Goil  is  speak- 
ing to  us  in  His  Word,  and  we  minding  not  much 
what  He  saith,  but  our  hearts  go  after  covetousness. 
(Ezek.  xxxiii.  31.)  — Watson,  1696. 

(2575.)  One  would  say,  that  if  you  went  and 
began  to  talk  to  a  man  about  something  of  great 
importance  to  him,  and  which  he  knew  was  of  great 
importance  to  him,  as,  for  instance,  about  how  his  life 
was  to  be  saved  when  he  was  sick, — or  how  his 
family  was  to  be  kept  from  want  after  he  was  dead, 
— or  how  his  house  was  to  be  saved  from  destruc- 
tion when  it  was  on  fire — one  would  say  that  if  you 
went  and  began  to  talk  to  a  man  about  such  matters 
as  these,  he  would  at  least  listen  very  attentively  to 
what  you  had  to  say  to  him.  Well,  then,  in  every 
sermon  we  hear,  the  preacher  is  just  a  friend  who 
has  come  to  talk  to  us  about  something  far  more 
important  than  anything  of  that  kind  can  be.  He 
has  come  to  tell  us  how  we  may  be  saved  from  a 
disease  a  thousand  times  woise  than  consumption, 
or  fever,  or  apoplexy  ;  he  has  come  to  tell  us  how 
every  poor  man  may  provide  for  his  family  so  com- 
pletely, that  he  may  be  sure  they  shall  never  want 
for  anything  ;  he  has  come  to  tell  us  how  we  itiay 
save  our  houses  and  ourselves  from  fires  far  more 
destructive  than  ever  destroyed  in  an  hour  the  work 
of  laborious  years.  Well,  we  all  know  that  too  ; 
and  yet,  strange  to  say,  there  is  nothing  whatsoever 
to  which  many  people  listen  so  carelessly  as  a  ser- 
mon. — Boyd. 

(3.)   Careless  hearers. 

(2576.)  We  crossed  and  recrossed  the  river  several 
times  by  the  ferry-boat  at  Basle.  We  had  no  object 
in  the  world  but  merely  amusement  and  curiosity, 
to  watch  tiie  sim])le  machinery  by  which  the  same 
current  is  made  to  drift  the  boat  in  opposite  direc- 
tions from  side  to  side.  To  other  passengers  it  was  a 
business,  to  us  a  sport.  Our  hearers  use  our 
ministry  in  much  the  same  manner  when  they  come 
to  it  out  of  the  idlest  curiosity,  and  listen  to  us  as  a 
means  of  si)en<ling  a  pleasant  hour.  That  which 
should  lerry  them  across  to  a  better  state  of  soul 
thev  use  as  a  mere  pleasure-boat,  to  sail  up  and 
down  in,  making  nf)  progress  after  years  of  hearmg. 
Alas  !  it  may  be  sport  to  them,  but  it  is  death  to 
us,  because  we  know  it  will  ere  long  be  death  '0 
them.  —Spurgeon. 

(4.)   Curious  hearers. 

(2577.)  Some  come  to  the  Word  preached,  not  5C 
much  to  get  grace,  as  to  enrich  themselves  with 
notions;  "Itching  ears"  (2  Tim.  iv.  3).  Austin 
confesseth  that,  before  his  conversion,  he  went  to 


HEARERS. 


(    44-3    ) 


HEARERS. 


hear  St.  Ambrose,  rather  for  his  eloquence  than 
for  the  spirituality  of  the  matter.  "  Thoa  art  unto 
them  as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one  that  hath  a  plea- 
sant voice,  and  can  play  well  on  an  instrument." 
Many  come  to  the  Word  only  to  feast  their  ears  ; 
they  like  the  melody  of  the  voice,  the  mellifluous 
sweetness  of  the  expression,  the  newness  of  the 
notion  (Acts  xvii.  21).  This  is  to  love  the  garnish- 
ing of  the  dish  more  than  the  food  ;  this  is  to  desire 
to  be  pleased  rather  than  edited.  Like  a  woman 
that  paints  her  face,  but  neglects  her  health:  so 
they  paint  and  adorn  themselves  with  curious  specu- 
lations, but  neglect  their  souls'  health.  This  hear- 
ing doth  neither  sanctily  the  heart,  nor  the  Sabbath. 

—  [\'atson,  1696. 

(5.)  Discontented,  querulous  hearer  s. 

(2578.)  Such  as  have  weak  and  sickly  stomachs 
are  always  finding  fault  with  the  carter,  cook,  or 
carver,  and  think  they  could  feed  a  great  deal 
better  if  there  were  better  provision.  And  thus 
there  are  some  queasy,  wanton  hearers  of  God's 
Word,  such  as  find  fault  with  their  pastor,  and  think 
they  could  be  edified  much  better  by  such  or  such 
another,  wherein  they  say  they  know  not  what  ;  for 
it  is  neither  Paul  nor  Apollos  that  can  edify — that 
is,  give  increase,  make  the  Word  effectual.  God 
hath  reserved  that  work  to  Himself,  that  so  His 
ordinance,  not  the  gifts,  His  blessing,  not  the  com- 
mendations of  the  preacher,  might  be  regarded  ; 
that  the  treasure  might  not  be  esteemed  for  the 
vessel,  but  the  vessel  for  the  treasure,  and  so  neither 
Paul  magnif.ed  nor  Apollos  despised,  nor  either  or 
both  relied  upon  and  God  Himself  neglected  ;  nor 
hearing  severed  from  prayer,  for  that  makes  hear- 
ing unprofitable,  but  that,  both  being  joined  to- 
gether, our  obedience  in  hearing  may  make  our 
prayers  accepted,  and  our  fervency  in  praying  may 
procure  our  liearing  to  be  blessed. 

— Crake,  1574-1649. 

(2579-)  As  those  that  go  in  a  ship  upon  the  sea, 
it  is  not  the  tossing,  but  the  stomach,  that  causes  a 
sickness,  the  choler  within,  and  not  the  waves  with- 
out :  so  the  disquiet  of  querulous  hearers,  that 
nothing  will  go  down  with  them,  is  from  their  own 
distemper.  —Sibbes,  1 577-1635. 

(2580.)  Some  peevish,  childish  persons  are  like 
sick  stomachs,  that  no  meat  can  please  ;  you  cannot 
dress  it  so  curiously,  but  they  complain  that  it  is 
naught,  or  this  aileth  it,  when  the  lault  is  in  them- 
selves ;  or  like  children,  or  sick  persons  that  can 
scarce  be  touched  but  they  are  hurt  :  do  you  think 
that  this  sickliness  or  curiosity  in  religion  is  a  credit 
to  you  ?  This  is  not  the  tenderness  of  conscience 
which  God  requireth,  to  be  easily  hurt  by  other 
men's  differences  and  faults.  As  it  is  the  shame  of 
many  gentlewomen  to  be  so  troublesomely  neat, 
that  DO  servant  knoweth  how  to  please  them  :  so  is 
it  in  religion,  a  sign  of  your  childish  folly,  and 
worse,  to  be  guilty  of  such  proud  curiosity  that 
none  can  please  you  who  are  not  exactly  of  your 
mind  and  way.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2581.)  Wherever  there  is  a  Paul  to  preach,  there 
will  be  a  Tertullus  to  find  fault. 

—  Toplady,  1 740- 1 778. 

(2582.)  Of  the  two  handles  which  attach  to 
everything,    what    mist    we   think   cf    that    mind 


which  is  ever  choosing  the  wrong?  Jesus  Christ, 
for  instance,  shows  how  much  the  farm,  the  oxen," 
and  the  wife  became  impediments  in  the  way  ol  I 
those  who  refused  His  invitation.  But  a  perverse 
conclusion  would  infer  that  He  was,  therefore,  an 
enemy  to  lawful  ent;agements.  Candour,  however, 
sees  at  a  glance  that  this  was  not  His  design  in 
speaking  the  parable.  His  drift  was  evidently  to 
mark  the  state  and  spirit  of  the  recusants,  and  not 
to  discountenance  their  lawful  occupations.  He 
meant  to  show  that  even  lawful  pursuits  may  be 
unlawfully  pursued,  when  they  become  sole  objects, 
and  thus  preferred  to  His  inestimable  proposal.  It 
is  thus  the  well-disposed  hearer  will  mark  the  design 
of  his  minister,  and  draw  wholesome  nourishment 
from  that  discourse  which  another  will  turn  to 
poison,  by  stopping  to  cavil  at  the  letter. 

— Cecil,  1748-1810. 

(6. )  Forgetful  hearers. 

(2583.)  As  an  hour-glass  or  conduit,  through 
which  in  an  hour  the  sand  runneth  in  and  through 
the  same,  in  another  hour  runneth  out  again :  so, 
likewise,  some  hearers  forget  in  one  hour  that 
which  they  heard  and  learned  in  the  hour  before. 
—  Catvdray,  1609. 

(7.)  Injudicious  hearers. 

(2584.)  As  a  vessel  that  receiveth  liquor," which 
being  poured  out,  the  dregs  remain  ;  or  as  a  sieve 
that  casteth  out  the  good  corn,  and  retaineth  only  the 
chaff:  even  so  some  hearers  of  the  Word  preached 
do  reject  and  neglect  the  wholesome  and  profitable 
doctrine,  and  keep  in  mind  only  that  which  is  not 
so  necessary  and  profitable.        — Cawdray,  1609. 

(8.)  Hardened  hearers, 

(2585.)  As  the  anvil,  the  more  it  is  hammered, 
the  hanier  it  is  :  so  most  hearers  of  the  Word  now- 
a-days  have  their  hearts  so  hardened  in  sin,  and 
their  consciences  so  seared  as  with  a  hot  iron,  that 
the  hammer  of  God's  Word  cannot  break  them  in 
pieces,  nor  zealous  preaching  approach  to  the 
quick,  as  it  did  before  by  the  apostles,  &c. 

— Cazvdray,  1609. 

2.  Need  spliittial  ears  to  appreciate  the  Gospel. 

(2586.)  Alphonse  Karr  heard  a  gardener  ask  his 
master's  permission  to  sleep  for  the  future  in  the 
stable;  "For,"  said  he,  "there  is  no  possibility  of 
sleeping  in  the  chamber  behind  the  greenhouse,  sir; 
there  are  nightingales  there  which  do  nothing  but 
guggle,  and  keep  up  a  noi«e  all  the  night."  The 
sweetest  sounds  are  but  an  annoyance  to  those  who 
have  no  musical  ear  ;  doubtless  the  music  of  heaven 
would  have  no  charms  to  carnal  minds,  certainly 
the  joylul  sound  of  the  Gospel  is  unappreciated  so 
long  as  men's  ears  remain  uncircumcised. 

— Spurgeon. 

(2587.)  Jedediah  Puxton,  the  famous  peasant, 
who  could  multiply  nine  figures  by  nine  in  his  liead, 
was  once  taken  to  see  Garrick  act.  When  he  went 
back  to  his  own  village,  he  was  asked  what  he 
thought  of  the  great  actor  and  his  doings.  "  Oh  I" 
he  said,  "he  did  not  know,  he  had  only  seen  a 
little  man  strut  about  the  stage,  and  repeat  7956 
words."  Here  was  a  want  of  the  ability  to  appre- 
ciate what  he  saw,  and  the  exercise  of  the  reigning 
faculty  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other.  Similarly 
our  hearers,  if  destitute  of  the  spiritual  powers  by 
which  the  Gosjiel  is  discerned,  fix  their  thoughts  on 
our   words,   tones,    gestures,    or  counten  ncc,    and 


HEARERS. 


(    444    ) 


HEARERS. 


Biake  remarks  upon  us  which  from  a  spiritual  point 
of  view  are  utterly  absurd.  How  futile  are  our  en- 
deavours without  the  Holy  Spirit  !      — Hpurgeon. 

3.  Should  seek  to  be  profited  rather  than 
pleased. 

(25S8,)  Seek  not  so  much  to  have  thy  ear  tickled 
as  thy  understanding  enlightened.  The  painful  bee 
passetii  l)y  roses  and  violets,  and  sits  upon  thyme; 
so  sliouKlest  thou  rather  choose  to  feed  on  plain 
and  wholesome  doctrine,  though  hot  and  biting, 
than  on  the  quirks  and  flowers  of  man's  invention. 
In  a  word,  learn  evermore  to  judge  that  sermon 
best,  though  plain,  whereby  thou  understandest. 
— N.  Rogers,  1594-1660. 

(2589.)  Grace  is  contented  with  the  simplicity  of 
the  Gospel ;  gifts  are  not  contented  thereimikal.  And 
therefore  you  shall  observe  that  the  Corinthians, 
who  excelled  in  gifts,  adulterated  the  gospel  with 
their  swelling  words.  The  Galatians  adulterated 
the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel,  and  mingled  the  doctrine 
of  the  Gospel  with  justification  by  works.  The 
Corinthians  mingled  the  words  of  the  Gospel  with 
their  own  swelling  language.  They  had  gifts,  and 
they  were  not  contented  with  the  simplicity  of  the 
Gospel.  Ay,  but  grace  is.  \'oa  see  how  it  is  with 
a  child  that  comes  into  a  corn-field  ;  he  is  mightily 
taken  with  the  blue  or  red  weeds,  or  the  daisies  that 
grow  there  ;  but  now,  when  the  husbardu'an  comes, 
he  looks  at  the  corn,  and  is  not  so  much  taken  with 
the  blue  and  red  weeds,  or  the  company  of  daisies, 
but  is  taken  with  the  corn  itself.  So  now  take  a 
man  that  hath  gifts  only,  and  bring  him  to  a  sermon 
or  a  prayer  ;  and  if  there  be  any  fine  expressions, 
any  daisies,  he  is  much  taken  with  them  ;  he 
prizelh,  and  magnifieth  them,  and  he  hangs  on 
them.  Rut  now  bring  a  man  that  hath  grace  to  a 
prayer,  or  to  a  sermon,  and  he  looks  at  the  corn  ; 
ne  dolh  nut  look  at  the  daisies  so  much,  but  at  the 
spirituality  and  power  of  those  things  that  are  there 
delivered.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

4.  Are  not  to  toe  •weary  of  familiar  truths. 
(2590.)  All  is  not  well  when  a  man  is  weary  of 

his  ordinary  food,  and  nothing  will  go  down  but 
rarities  ;  the  stomach  is  sickly  when  a  man  delights 
rather  to  pick  some  salad  than  eat  of  solid  meat : 
and  how  far  this  dainty  age  is  gone  in  this  spiritual 
disease,  I  think  few  are  so  far  come  to  themselves 
as  yet  to  consider  and  lament.  Oh,  sirs,  be  not 
weary  as  in  doing,  so  not  in  hearing  those  savoury 
truths  preached  you  have  daily  use  of,  because  you 
know  them,  and  have  heard  them  ofien  :  faith  and 
rept-ntance  will  be  good  doctrine  to  preach  and  hear 
to  the  end  of  the  world.  \'ou  may  as  well  quarrel 
with  God  because  He  hath  made  but  one  heaven, 
and  one  way  to  it,  as  be  offended  with  the  preacher 
for  preaching  these  over  and  over.  If  thy  heart 
were  humble,  and  thy  palate  spiritual,  old  truths 
would  be  new  to  thee  every  time  thou  hearcst  them. 
In  heaven  the  saints  draw  all  their  wme  of  joy  (as 
1  may  so  say)  at  one  tap,  and  shall  to  all  eternity  ; 
and  yet  it  never  tastes  flat.  God  is  that  one  object 
their  souls  are  filled  with,  and  never  weary  of;  and 
can  rwiything  of  God  and  His  love  be  wearisome  to 
thee  in  the  hearing  here?  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

5.  Tbeir  craving  for  novelty  unhealthy  and  ab- 
•urd. 

(2J91.)  It  is  a  graceless,  wicked  soul,  in  a  state 
of  danrnation,  that  conceits  he  knows  so  much  of 


God  and  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  essentials  of  Chris- 
tianity, that  he  cares  not  for  hearing  these  thing! 
any  more,  bat  had  rather  have  novelties,  and  let 
these  alone  ;  nnd  feeleth  not  need  of  knowing  much 
more,  and  more  of  the  same  truths  ;  and  of  using 
and  living  upon  these  vital  principles  which  he 
knows.  You  have  eaten  bread  a  hundred  times  ; 
but  perhaps  you  never  did  eat  of  sturgeon  or  whale, 
of  a  bear  or  a  leopard,  of  chestnuts  or  pignuts,  or 
many  strange  and  dangerous  fruits,  in  all  your  life  ; 
and  yet  I  hope  you  will  never  seek  alter  these,  be- 
cause they  are  novelties,  and  give  over  eating  bread 
because  you  have  eaten  of  it  already.  Nor  will  you 
churlishly  refuse  to  go  to  a  feast,  because  there  is  no 
meat  but  what  you  have  eaten  of  before. 

—  Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2592.)  Take  away  a  toy  from  a  child,  and  give 
him  another  and  he  is  satisfied ;  but  if  he  be  hunery 
no  toy  will  do.  Thus  as  new-born  bab  s,  true  be« 
lievers  desire  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word  ;  and  the 
desire  of  grace,  in  this  way,  is  grace. 

— Newton,  1725-1807. 

(2593. )  Love,  joy,  humility,  heavenly-mlndedness, 
godly  sorrow  for  sin,  and  h"ly  resolutions  against  it, 
are  not  promoted  so  much  by  novel  speculations,  as 
by  placing  in  a  just  and  affecting  light  the  acknow. 
ledged  truths  of  the  Gospel,  and  thereby  stirring  up 
the  mind  by  way  of  remembrance.  "Whilst  I  am 
in  this  tabernacle,"  said  Peter,  "  I  will  not  be  neg- 
ligent to  put  you  in  remembrance  of  these  things, 
though  ye  know  them,  and  are  established  in  the 
present  truth."  We  appeal  to  the  experience  of 
every  real  Christian,  whether  the  sweetest  and  most 
profitable  seasons  he  has  enjoyed  have  not  been 
those  in  which  he  is  conscious  of  having  learned  no 
new  truth,  strictly  speaking,  but  was  indulged  with 
spiritual  and  transforming  views  of  the  plain,  un- 
questionable discoveries  of  the  Gospel.  As  the 
Word  of  God  is  the  food  of  souls,  so  it  corresponds 
to  that  character  in  this  respect  among  others — that 
the  strength  and  refreshment  it  imparts  depend  not 
upon  its  novelty,  but  upon  the  nutritious  properties 
it  possesses.  It  is  a  sickly  appetite  only  which 
craves  incessant  variety. 

— Robert  Hall,  1 764-1 83^. 

(2594.)  On  a  Sabbath-day,  years  ago,  a  young 
minister  apjieared  in  a  church  in  Edinbargh  as  a 
candidate  for  the  vacant  charge.  He  preached; 
the  people  were  all  attention.  The  discourse  was 
worthy  of  one  whose  ministrations  since  then  have 
been  elsewhere  much  blessed  to  bring  many  souls  to 
Christ.  That  did  not  save  it,  however,  from  the 
adverse  judgment  of  a  critic.  So  soon  as  the  ser- 
mon was  concluded,  this  modern  Athenian  turn-id 
round  to  him  who  related  the  circumstance,  and 
said,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  a  tone 
bordering  on  contempt,  "  Ha  !  there  is  nothing  new 
there  ! "  Fancy  a  man  to  whom  I  offer  a  rose 
fresh  plucked  from  the  parterre,  dyed  in  the  richest 
hues,  breathing  the  most  fragrant  odour,  with  the 
dew-drops  still  shining  like  diamonds  on  its  pure 
bosom,  tossing  it  from  him  with  an  air  of  contempt, 
to  say,  "  Hal  there  is  nothing  new  there  !  "  This 
were  not  more  absurd  than  that.  New  ?  Anything 
in  religion  that  professes  to  be  new,  beyond  the 
light  which  modern  researches  into  the  geography 
and   natural   history,    the   manners,    customs,   and 


HEARERS. 


(     44S     ) 


HEARERS. 


languagjES  of  the  East,  may  throw  on  the  contents  of 
the  Bible,  is  to  be  regarded  with  grave  suspicion. 

—  Giithne. 

6.  Should  regard  the  messag-e,  not  the  mes- 
senger. 

(2595.)  Let  not  Satan  persuade  us  to  think  the 
worse  of  the  pure  word  of  God  because  of  his  cor- 
ruption who  delivers  it.  For  what  were  this  but  to 
refuse  a  comfortable  embassage  from  a  gracious 
prince,  because  we  dislike  the  qualities  of  the 
ambassadors?  What  were  this  but  to  scorn  to 
receive  a  kind  letter  from  a  loving  father,  because  the 
carrier  displeases  us?  What  is  this  but  to  refuse  a 
rich  treasure,  because  it  is  brought  unto  us  in  an 
earthen  vessel  which  is  frail  and  brittle?  What  is 
it  but  like  proud  beggars  to  refuse  the  bountiful 
alms  of  a  merciful  prince,  because  it  is  delivered 
unto  us  by  an  almoner  who  is  covetous  and  hard- 
heai  ted  ?  Yea,  what  is  it  but  to  cross  our  Saviour 
Christ's  express  commandment,  who  commanded 
all  to  hear  even  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  who  sat 
on  Moses's  chair,  and  to  do  after  their  words, 
though  not  alter  their  works? 

— Dcnvnamty  1644. 

(2596.)  All  true  ministers  are  the  Lord's  ambas- 
sadors, who  in  Christ's  stead  beseech  their  hearers 
that  they  will  be  reconciled  unto  God.  We  must 
not  therefore  look  upon  the  man,  but  on  God  who 
sends  him  ;  not  on  the  earthen  vessel,  but  on  the 
heavenly  treasure  which  it  brings  ;  not  on  the  simpli- 
city of  the  cabinet,  but  on  the  precious  pearl  which  is 
contained  in  it;  not  upon  the  meanness  of  the 
ambassador,  but  on  the  glorious  royalty  of  the 
prince  who  sends  him,  and  on  his  embassage, 
which  is  the  glad  tidings  of  the  Gospel  ;  the  word 
of  salvation  and  life,  which  is  able  to  save  souls  : 
and  then  his  feet  will  seem  beautiful,  and  none 
shall  be  better  welcome  ;  then  shall  we  not  con- 
temn or  neglect  his  ministry,  but  receive  joyfully, 
reverently,  and  attentively  the  word  preached  by 
him,  remembering  what  our  Saviour  Christ  has 
said  :  "  lie  *hat  heareth  you  heareth  Me,  and  he 
that  despiseth  you  despiseth  Me ;  and  he  that 
despiseth  Me  despiseth  Jrlim  that  sent  Me." 

— Dowtiame,  1644. 

(2597.)  The  clergy  is  a  copy-book,  their  life  is 
the  paper,  whereof  some  is  purer,  some  coarser  : 
their  doctrine  is  the  copies,  some  written  in  jilain 
hand,  others  in  a  flourishing  hand,  some  in  a  text 
hand,  some  m  a  Roman  hand,  others  in  a  court  hand, 
others  in  a  bastard  Roman.  If  the  choice  be  in  thy 
power,  choose  a  book  that  has  the  finest  paper  ;  let 
it  not  be  too  straight  nor  too  loosely  bound,  but 
easy  to  lie  open  to  every  eye.  P'ollow  not  every 
co])y,  lest  thou  be  good  at  none  :  among  them  all 
choose  one  that  shall  be  most  legible  and  useful, 
and  fu'lest  of  instructions.  But  if  the  paper  chance 
to  have  a  blot,  remember,  the  blot  is  no  part  of  the 
copy.  — Qiiarles,  1644. 

(2598.)  The  agent  that  must  work  with  this 
leaven  (Matt.  xiii.  33)  is  a  woman,  weak  in  her 
Bex ;  yet  the  leaven  works  nevertheless  for  her 
imbecility.  The  minister  that  must  put  this  leaven 
to  our  souls  is  a  man,  a  weak,  sinful,  despised 
man  ;  yet  doth  not  his  weakness  derogate  from  the 
powerful  operation  of  the  word  m  the  hearts  of 
God's  chosen.     It  is    the    word    of   a    mighty  and 


majestic  God,  who  speaks,  and  the  mountains 
tremble ;  threatens,  and  the  foundations  of  the 
earth  are  moved.  I  appeal  to  your  consciences, — 
who  have  a  testimony  from  them,  and  they  fronj 
the  Spirit,  that  you  are  God's, — hath  not  His 
word,  spoken  by  a  silly  man,  made  your  hearts 
bleed  within  you  for  your  sins?  Yea,  hath  not 
Felix  himself  trembled  hke  an  aspen  leaf,  when 
Paul,  even  his  prisoner,  preached?  What  power 
hath  stirred  you,  human  or  divine?  Tertullus  could 
not  do  it,  whilst  authority  and  credit  with  men 
seconded  his  eloquence.  Peter,  taken  from  his  nets, 
shall  catch  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  souls  at  a 
draught.  What  presumptuous  folly  in  some  is  it, 
then,  to  loathe  the  word  of  eternal  truth  because 
such  a  man  speaks  it!  God  must  n.'t  only  give 
them  meat,  but  such  a  cook  as  may  dress  it  to  their 
ov/n  fancies.  Our  weakness  makes  way  for  God's 
brighter  glory:  "That  your  faith  should  not  stand 
in  the  wisdom  of  man,  but  in  the  power  of  God," 
Oftentimes  the  pillars  of  the  Church  move  not  him 
whom  a  weak  leavener  hath  converted.  It  is  a 
reason  convincing  the  wicked,  confirming  the  faith- 
ful, that  Paul  gives:  "God  hath  chosen  the  foolish 
things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  wise  ;  and  the» 
weak  things  to  confound  the  mighty  ;  that  no  flesh 
should  glcry  in  His  presence."      — Adams,  1653. 

(2599.)  Mind  the  word  as  the  word  of  truth. 
Take  it  not  upon  the  account  of  persons  ;  value  it 
for  its  own  sake,  as  it  is  a  word  of  truth.  It  is 
neither  Paul  nor  Apollos,  but  God  that  gives  the 
increase.  Value  it  not  by  men  ;  it  is  no  matter 
wliat  the  pipe  is,  whether  gold  or  lead,  so  the  water 
be  the  water  of  life.  — Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

{2600.)  When  men  refuse  to  hear  the  Gospel  from 
the  lips  of  a  gracious  but  uneducated  preacher,  they 
remind  us  of  the  Spaniard  in  South  Anieiica,  v\ho 
suffered  severely  from  the  gout,  but  refused  to  be 
cured  by  an  Indian.  "1  know,"  said  he,  "that 
he  is  a  famous  man,  and  would  certainly  cure  me, 
but  he  is  an  Indian,  and  would  expect  to  be  treated 
with  attentions  which  I  cannot  pay  to  a  man  of 
colour,  and  therefore  I  prefer  remaining  as  I  am.'' 

— Spurgeon. 

7.  Necessity  of  effort  on  their  part. 

(2601.)  Let  us  remember  that  we  do  not  go  to 
church  to  be  amused,  but  to  be  instructed  and 
edified.  Instruction  is  rarely  a  pleasing  thing.  To 
get  instruction  is  almost  always  hard  work.  All 
learning  implies  an  effort :  God  has  made  the 
universe  in  such  a  fashion  that  to  do  anything  good 
and  profitable,  it  is  needful  to  make  a  push  and  an 
effort  ;  whereas  to  do  what  is  idle  and  useless  takes 
no  effort  at  all.  A  schoolboy  must  work  to  learn 
his  lessons;  but  it  needs  no  effort,  and  no  labour,  to 
play  at  balls  or  marbles.  It  needs  no  self-denial  to 
do  that.  To  take  amusement  is  almost  the  oidy 
thing  we  can  do  that  needs  no  effort.  Religious 
instruction  cannot  be  made  so  interesting, — cannot 
be  made  so  as  to  be  listened  to  without  an  effort, — 
in  the  same  way  as  some  amusing  or  romantic  story, 
or  some  lively  disquisition  upon  worldly  mailers. 
It  is  right  and  proper  for  the  preacher  10  do  a.l  he 
can  to  make  his  sermons  interesting ;  to  make  thcro 
such  that  they  will  keep  up  people's  aitention 
whether  they  are  trying  to  attend  or  not  ;  but  in 
the  nature  of  things,  there  is  a  limit  to  what  he  can 
do.     in  the  nature  of  things,   it  is  impossible  to 


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make  serious  instruction  as  attractive  as  light  amuse- 
ment. — Boyd. 

8.  Should  apply  to  themselves  -what  they  hear. 

(2602.)  In  a  feast  we  are  glad  to  have  the  best 
morsels  carved  to  us,  and  let  the  coarser  tiishes  pass 
by  ;  but  in  liearing  of  the  word,  wlien  the  best 
rounsel  is  offered  us.  we  are  so  mannerly  as  to 
commend  it  to  our  neighbours.     — Adams,  1653. 

(2603.)  Look  upon  yourselves  as  really  concerned 
in  the  word  you  hear,  otherwise  it  will  no  more 
affect  you  than  if  you  should  tell  an  ambitious  man, 
gajiing  after  preferment  in  Kngland,  of  a  wealthy 
place  fallen  in  Spain,  which  will  not  engage  his 
thoughts,  as  being  out  of  his  sphere,  and  at  too 
.great  a  distance.  — Charnock,  162S-1680. 

(2604.)  "Make  it  your  work  with  diligence  to 
apply  the  word  as  you  are  hearing  it.  and  to  work 
your  own  hearts  to  those  suitable  resolutions  and 
.affections  which  it  bespeaketh."  Cast  not  all  upon 
the  mini.ster,  as  those  that  will  go  no  further  than 
they  are  carried  as  by  force  ;  tliis  is  fitter  for  the 
■dead  than  for  the  livijig.  You  liave  work  to  do  as 
well  as  the  preacher,  and  sliould  all  the  while  be  as 
busy  as  he  ;  as  helpless  as  the  infant  is,  he  must  suck 
when  the  mother  offereth  him  the  breast.  If  you 
must  be  fed,  yet  you  must  open  your  mouths  and 
■digest  it,  for  another  cannot  digest  it  for  you  ;  nor  can 
the  I'.oliest,  wisest,  most  powerful  minister,  convert 
or  save  you  without  yourselves,  nor  deliver  a  people 
■from  sin  and  hell  that  will  not  stir  for  their  own 
deliverance.  Therefore,  be  all  the  while  at  work  ; 
abhor  an  idle  heart  in  hearing,  as  well  as  an  idle 
tnmister.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2605.)  What  a  mistake  to  imagine  that,  by  hear- 
ing first  one  preacher  and  then  another,  we  can  derive 
benefit  to  our  souls  !  More  is  wanted  than  such 
hearing.  A  raven  may  fly  from  cage  to  cage,  but  it 
is  not  thereby  changed  into  a  dove.  Go  from  room 
to  room  of  the  royal  feast,  and  the  sight  of  the  tables 
will  never  stay  thy  hunger.  Keader,  the  main 
thing  is  to  have  and  hold  the  truth  personally  and 
inwardly  ;  if  this  be  not  seen  to,  thou  wilt  die  in 
thy  sins,  though  ten  thousand  voices  should  direct 
ihee  to  the  way  of  salvation.  Pity  indeed  it  is  that 
the  bulk  of  hearers  are  hearers  only,  and  are  no 
more  likely  to  go  to  heaven  than  the  seats  they  sit 
on  in  the  assembly  of  the. saints.  — Spiirgeon. 

9.  The  folly  of  resenting  faithful  preaching. 

{2606.)  The  faithful  hearer  accuses  not  his  mini- 
ster for  particularising  him.  It  does  not  follow  that 
he  aimed,  because  the  arrow  hit.  Rather,  our  parish- 
ioner lieasons  thus  :  "  If  my  sin  be  notorious,  how 
could  the  minister  miss  it?  if  secret,  how  could  he 
hit  without  God's  direction  ?"  Hut  foolish  hearers 
make  even  the  bells  of  Aaron's  garments  to  clink,  as 
they  think.  And  a  guilty  conscience  is  like  a  whirl- 
pool, drawing  in  all  to  itself  which  otherwise  would 
pass  by.  — Fuller,  1 608-1 661. 

(2607.)  Whence  is  it  but  from  selfishness,  that 
p.'aiu  and  close  application  in  our  sermons  is  taken 
to  be  an  injury  to  those  that  think  themselves  con- 
cerned in  it?  If  a  minister  will  speak  alike  to  all, 
anti  take  heed  of  meddling  with  theit  sores,  they 
will  patiently  hear  him  ;  but  if  he  make  them  know 
that  he  meanelh  them  in  particular,  and  deal  closely 
«iih  ihem  about  their  miserable    stat^    or  against 


any  special,  disgraceful  sin,  they  fall  a-railing  at  him 
and  reproaching  him  behind  his  back  ;  and  perhaps 
they  will  .say  they  will  heai  him  no  more.  "  Oh," 
saith  the  selfish,  ungodly  wretch,  "I  know  he 
meant  me  to-day  ;  had  he  nobody  but  me  to  speak 
aijainst?"  As  if  a  sick  man  should  be  angry  with 
the  physician  for  giving  directions  and  medicines  to 
him  in  particular,  and  say,  "  Had  he  nobotiy  to 
give  physic  to  but  me?  Were  there  not  sick  men 
enough  in  the  town  besides  me?" 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(2608.)  Verily,  sirs,  a  sinner  under  the  curse  of 
the  law,  unsanctified  and  unpardoned,  is  not  in  a 
state  to  be  jested  and  dallied  with,  unless  you  can 
play  in  the  flames  of  hell  ;  it  is  plain  dealing  tliat  he 
needs.  A  quibbling,  toyish,  flashy  sermon  is  not 
the  proper  medicine  for  a  lethargic,  miserable  soul, 
nor  fit  to  break  a  stony  heart,  nor  to  bind  up  a 
heart  that  is  kindly  broken.  Heaven  and  hell 
should  not  be  talked  of  in  a  canting,  jingling, 
pedantic  strain.  A  Seneca  can  tell  you  that  it  is 
a  physician  that  is  skilful,  and  not  one  that  is 
eloquent,  that  we  need.  If  he  have  also  fine  and 
neat  exjjressions,  we  will  not  despise  them,  nor 
overmuch  value  them.  It  is  a  cure  that  we  need  ; 
and  the  means  are  best,  be  they  never  so  sharp, 
that  will  accomplish  it.  Serious,  reverent  gravity 
best  suiteth  witli  matters  of  such  incomprehensible 
concernment.  You  set  not  a  schoolboy  to  make  an 
oration,  to  give  an  assaulted  city  an  alarm,  or  to 
call  men  out  to  quench  a  common  fire.  You  may 
play  with  words  when  the  case  will  bear  it  ;  but  as 
dropping  of  beads  is  too  ludicrous  for  one  that  is 
praying  to  be  saved  from  the  flames  of  hell,  so  a 
sleepy,  or  a  histrionical  starched  speech,  is  too  light 
and  unlikely  a  means  to  call  back  a  sinner  that  is  post- 
ing to  perdiiion,  and  must  be  humbled  and  renewed 
by  the  Spirit,  or  be  for  ever  damned.  This  is  your 
case,  sirs  :  and  do  you  think  the  playing  of  a>  part 
upon  a  stage  doth  fit  your  case  ?  Oh  no  !  So 
great  business  requireth  all  the  serious  earnestness 
in  the  speaker  that  he  can  see.  I  am  sure  you  will 
think  so  ere  long  yourselves ;  and  you  will  then 
think  well  of  the  preachers  that  faithfully  acquainted 
you  with  your  case ;  and  (if  they  succeed  to  your 
perdition)  you  will  curse  those  that  smoothed  you 
up  in  your  presumption,  and  hid  your  danger,  by 
false  doctrine,  or  misapplication,  or,  seeming  to  dis- 
cover it,  indeed  did  hide  it,  by  an  hypocritical  lighi, 
or  not  serious  mention  of  it.  God  can  make  use  of 
clay  and  spittle  to  open  the  eyes  of  men  born  blind, 
and  of  rams'  horns  to  bringdown  the  walls  of  Jericho ; 
but  usually  He  fitteth  the  means  unto  the  end,  and 
works  on  man  agreeably  to  his  nature  :  and,  there- 
fore, if  a  blind  understanding  must  be  enlightened, 
you  cannot  expect  that  it  should  be  done  by  squibs 
and  glowwcums,  but  by  bringing  into  your  souls  the 
powerful  celestial  truth,  which  shall  show  you  the 
hidden  corners  of  your  hearts,  and  the  hidden  mys- 
teries of  the  Gospel,  and  the  unseen  things  of  the 
other  world.  If  a  hardened  heart  be  to  be  broken, 
it  is  not  stroking  but  striking  that  must  do  it.  It 
is  not  the  sounding  brass,  the  tinkling  cymbal,  the 
carnal  mind  puffed  up  with  superiicial  knowledge 
that  is  the  instrument  fitted  to  the  renewing  of  men's 
souls  ;  but  it  is  he  that  can  acquaint  you  with  what 
he  himself  hath  been  savingly  acquainted  ;  the  heart 
is  not  melteei  into  godly  sorrow,  nor  raised  to  the 
life  of  faith  an.i  love  by  the  bubbles  of  a  Irothy  wit, 
or  by  a  game  at  words,  or  useless  notj'ons,  but  by 


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HEARERS. 


Hie  illuminating  beams  of  sacred  truth,  and  the 
attraction  of  Divine-displayed  goodness,  communi- 
cated from  a  mind  that  by  faith  hatii  seen  the  glory 
of  God,  and  by  experience  found  that  He  is  good, 
and  liveth  in  the  love  of  God  ;  such  an  one  is  titted 
to  assist  you  first  in  the  knowledge  of  yourselves, 
and  then  in  the  knowledge  of  God  in  Christ. 

— Baxter,  1 615-169 1. 

(2609.)  Its  folly  is  apparent  from  the  considera- 
tion that  no  concealment  of  the  sinner  can  alter  his 
condition  in  the  sight  of  God,  or  change  tlie  relation 
in  which  he  stantls  to  eternity.  This,  whatever 
pains  he  may  take  to  delude  himself,  or  whatever 
solicitude  he  may  feel  that  others  should  join  him 
in  the  delusion,  remains  the  same.  Like  the  ostrich, 
which  is  said  when  closely  pursued  to  put  her 
head  beneatii  her  wing,  as  if  to  blind  herself  to  im- 
pending destruction,  he  may  refuse  to  see  or  hear 
his  true  situation  unfolded,  but  the  case  is  unaltered. 
Is  it  wise  in  the  man  who  has  nearly  ruined  his 
constitution  by  intemperance,  to  ask  the  physician 
to  tell  him  that  he  is  in  good  health  ;  and  is  carry- 
ing on  a  harmless  course  of  indulgence?  Is  it  wise 
in  the  man  who  is  wasting  his  property  by  neglect 
or  extravagance,  to  persuade  his  friends  to  hush 
their  reproving  voice,  and  flatter  him  that  his 
prosperity  is  secure?  Would  the  deceit  in  the 
former  case  change  the  condition  of  the  patient?  or 
the  falsehood  in  the  latter  repair  the  fortunes  of  the 
spendthrift?  IIow  much  greater  is  the  folly  of  the 
sinner,  who,  instead  of  turning  from  sin  to  God, 
through  faiih  in  Christ,  and  thus  getting  rid  of  his 
alarms  by  abandoning  his  course  of  sin,  refuses  to 
change  his  conduct,  and  asks  for  a  false  representa- 
tion of  his  condition.  Me  is  walking  to  the  edge 
of  a  precipice,  and  solicits  those  who  see  danger  to 
tell  him  that  he  is  safe.  — James. 

10.  Folly  of  their  craving  for   "comforting" 

preaching, 

(2610.)  It  is  a  doleful  case,  to  see  how  light 
many  make  of  all  the  rest  of  their  distempers,  when 
once  they  tiiink  that  they  have  so  much  grace  and 
mortification  as  is  absolutely  necessary  to  save 
their  souls  ;  and  expect  that  preachers  should  say 
little  to  weak  Christians  but  words  of  comfort, 
setting  fortl\  their  happiness.  And  yet  if  one  of 
them,  when  he  hath  the  gout,  or  stone,  or  colic,  or 
dropsy,  doth  send  for  a  physician,  he  would  think 
himself  derided  or  abused  if  his  physician,  instead 
of  curing  his  disease,  should  only  comfort  him,  by 
telling  him  that  he  is  not  dead. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(261 1.)  Plain  truth  is  unwelcome  to  them  be- 
cause it  is  rough,  and  grates  ujjon  the  quick,  and 
tells  them  of  that  which  is  troublesome  to  know, 
though  they  must  know  their  sin,  and  danger,  and 
misery,  or  else  they  can  never  escape  it  ;  yet  they 
had  rather  venture  on  hell  than  hear  the  danger. 
And,  as  a  sottish  patient,  they  love  that  physician 
better  that  will  tell  them  there  is  no  danger,  and  let 
them  die,  than  he  that  will  tell  them,  "  Your  disease 
is  dangerous  ;  you  must  bleed,  or  vomit,  or  purge, 
or  you  will  die  !"  Oh,  what  a  wrong  they  take  it  to 
be  told  thus  !  If  a  minister  tell  one  of  them  that 
hath  the  death-marks  of  ungodliness  in  the  face  of 
his  conversation,  "  Neighbour,  I  must  deal  plainly 
with  you  ;  your  state  is  sad;  you  are  unsanctified, 
and  unjustified,  and  in  the  slavery  «  "  the  devil,  and 


will  be  lost  for  ever  ;  if  you  die  before  you  are  con- 
verted and  made  a  new  creature  ;  and  therefore, 
turn  presently,  as  you  love  your  soul,  *  it  is  ten  ta 
one  but  he  should  have  a  reproachful  answer  instead 
of  thanks  and  obedience.      — Baxter,  1615-16911 

(2612.)  Are  there  not  many  who  are  dissatisfied 
with  everything  but  words  of  comfort  and  state- 
ments of  privilege  ?  They  object  to  everything  of  a 
searching  and  practical  tendency.  Their  incessant 
demand  is  for  doctrine  and  consolation.  I'very- 
thing  besides  this  is  legality.  This  disi^osiiion  is, 
though  in  a  modified  sense  of  the  text,  a  demanding 
of  smooth  things,  and  is,  in  a  measure,  asking  for 
deceit,  and  requesting  that  the  Holy  One  of  Israel 
may  cea-e  from  before  His  people.  Such  persons 
value  themselves  as  being  believers  of  greater 
eminence,  children  in  the  family  of  God,  of  taller 
stature  and  greater  strength  than  others  ;  but 
reasoning  from  analogy,  one  should  be  led  to 
suppose  that  the  oldest  and  best  children  would  be 
most  anxious  to  hear  their  Father's  command,  and 
do  their  duty  by  fulfilling  His  will  ;  for  in  the 
families  of  men,  it  is  the  younger  and  more  ignorant 
and  petulant  that  quarrel  with  commands,  and  cry 
after  luscious  sweets.  The  strongest  mark  of  great 
grace  is  to  delight  more  than  others  in  knowing 
and  doing  the  will  of  God,  and  yet  to  think  least  of 
what  we  do.  Many  who  boast  of  their  high  attain- 
ments in  religion,  would  have  the  ministers  of  God 
leave  out  more  than  half  their  message  ;  and  what 
is  this  but  to  do  the  work  of  the  Lord  deceitfully? 
Upon  their  principles,  all  parts  of  God's  Word  but 
the  promises  are  unnecessary  :  they  are  useless  to 
believers,  lor  they  are  above  them  by  privilege  ; 
useless  to  sinners,  for  they  are  below  them  in  respect 
to  obligation.  — James. 

(2613.)  Instead  of  wishing  to  know  the  real  state 
of  the  case,  their  only  wish  is  to  be  deceived  ;  in- 
stend  of  running  to  the  physician,  their  aim  is  to 
persuade  themselves  that  they  do  not  nerd  him  ; 
instead  of  anxiously  incjuiring,  "What  shall  I  do  to 
be  saved  ?  "  they  do  not  see  their  danger  of  being 
lost  ;  instead  of  fleeing  from  the  wrath  to  come, 
they  covet  to  be  let  alone.  It  is  only  by  a  faithful 
disclosure  of  their  situation  that  they  can  escape,  but 
they  will  not  hear  it.  Like  the  man  whose  home  is  on 
fire  over  his  head,  and  who  is  angry  with  neighbours 
who  have  disturbed  his  slumbers  and  alarmed  his 
fears,  they  entreat  that  nothing  may  be  said  to  them 
about  the  quenchless  fire,  although  it  is  kindling 
around  them.  They  take  pains  t<>  be  lost,  and  are 
offended  with  the  persons  who  would  save  them. 

— James. 

11.  Are  not  to  regard  as  useless  what  is  proflt- 
less  to  themselves  personally. 

(2614.)  God  directs  the  tongue  of  His  ministers 
as  He  does  His  showers  of  rain  :  they  fall  upon  the 
face  of  a  large  compass  of  earth,  when  all  that  earth 
did  not  need  that  rain.  For  the  refreshing  of  one 
span  of  ground,  God  lets  fall  a  whole  shower  of 
rain  ;  for  the  rectifying  of  one  soul,  God  pours  (;ut 
the  meditations  of  the  preacher  into  such  a  subject 
as,  perchance,  little  concerns  the  rest  of  the  con- 
gregation. 

It  thou  remember  not  all  that  was  presented  to 
thy  faith,  all  the  citations  of  places  of  Scrifitures  : 
nor  aill  that  was  presented  to  thy  spiritual  delight, 
all   the  sentences  of  ornament  produced  out  of  the 


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fethers  ;  yet  if  thou  remember  that  which  concerned 
thy  sin  and  thy  soul,  if  thou  meditate  upon  that, 
apply  that,  thou  hast  brought  away  all  the  sermon, 
aJl  that  was  intended  by  the  Holy  Ghost  to  be 
preached  to  thee. 

And  if  thou  have  done  so,  as  at  a  donative,  at  a 
coronation,  or  other  solemnity,  when  money  is 
thrown  among  the  people,  though  thou  light  but 
upon  one  shilling  of  that  money,  thou  canst  not 
think  that  all  tlie  rest  is  lost,  but  that  some  others 
are  the  richer  for  it,  though  thou  beest  not  :  so  if 
thou  remember,  or  apply,  or  understand,  but  one 
part  of  the  sermon,  do  not  think  all  the  rest  to  have 
been  idly,  or  unnecessarily,  or  impertinently  spoken, 
for  thou  broughtest  a  fever,  and  hast  had  thy  juleps, 
and  another  brought  a  fainting  and  a  diffident 
spirit,  and  must  have  his  cordials. 

— Donne,  1573-1631. 

12.  Should  discriminate  between  truth  and 
error. 

(2615.)  As   a   sponge    gathereth   up   all   liquor, 
whether  it  be  good  or  bad,   even  so  some  hearers 
of  sermons  receive  all  that  is  spoken,  good  and  evil. 
— Cawdray,  1609. 

(2616.)  As  a  glass  window  receiveth  in  the  light 
so  soon  as  it  shineth,  and  withstanileth  every  tempest 
or  shower  that  beats  at  the  same  :  so  should  every 
Christian  hearer  be  ready  to  receive  the  light  of  the 
truth  when  he  heareth  ii  preached,  and  be  likewise 
as  careful  to  withstand  and  reject  every  error  or 
(alse  doctrine  that  doth  slip  from  the  preacher,  and 
which,  if  received,  will  alterward  move  a  tempest 
in  his  conscience  by  the  sense  of  God's  judgment. 
— Cawdray,  1609. 

13.  Must  test  what  they  are  taught  by  the  Word 
of  God. 

(2617.)  Too  much  to  blame,  then,  are  our  over- 
credulous  multitutle,  who,  hand  over  head,  admit 
and  receive  for  orthodox  whatsoever  is  propounded 
unto  them  by  their  teachers  ;  and  think  this  is  a 
sufficient  warrant  for  any  point  they  hold.  Our 
minister  said  it,  or  such  a  preacher  delivered  it  in 
a  pulpit,  as  if  there  were  not  some  who  run  before 
they  are  sent,  and  publish  the  visions  of  their  own 
brain,  prophesying  that  which  God  never  spake. 
In  matters  civil  we  are  more  cautious  and  wary  ; 
no  gold,  almost,  we  take  before  we  have  tried  it  by 
the  touch,  or  weighed  it  in  the  balance ;  and  what 
is  the  reason?  because  there  is  much  of  it  liglit  and 
Tiaughi.  yea,  hardly  we  will  take  a  groat  without 
bowing,  bending,  rubbing  it,  and  the  like,  being 
therein  oftentimes  over-curious;  but  in  religious 
matters,  which  concern  our  faith  and  soul's  salva- 
tion, we  are  over-careless,  albeit  we  are  forewarned 
of  many  false  prophets  that  are  gone  into  the  world, 
and  therefore  willed  not  to  believe  every  spirit,  but 
to  try  the  spirits  whether  they  be  of  God.  This  is 
a  great  yet  common  fault  among  us.  Were  he  an 
angel  from  heaven  that  preaches  to  thee,  yet  art 
thou  bound  to  look  into  his  doctrine  and  examine 
it,  and  not  to  take  it  upon  credit  without  he  bring 
sufficient  proof  and  warrant  for  it  (Gal.  i.  8).  Like 
good  Bereans,  see  you  search  the  Scriptures  whether 
these  things  be  so.  — N.  Rogers,  1594-1660. 

14.  "  Be  ye  doers  of  the  Word,  and  not  liearera 
•oly." 

(2618.)  Idle  auditors  are  likr  idle  gods,  which 
have  members  not  fa     use  bu'.   show;   like  glass 


windows  upon  stone  walls,  to  give  ornament,  bat 
not  to  receive  light.  — Adams,  1653. 

(2619.)  Many  men  are  as  those  that  travel  by 
water,  and  see  buildings  ashore,  and  praise  them  as 
they  pass  by,  but  never  enter  into  them,  never  lock 
after  them  more.  — Majiton,  1620-1667. 

(2620.)  It  is  an  aphorism  in  physic,  that  they 
who  in  the  beginning  of  sickness  eat  much,  and 
mend  not,  fall  at  last  to  a  general  loathing  of  food. 
The  moral  is  true  in  divinity.  He  that  has  a  sick 
conscience,  and  lives  a  hearer  under  a  fruitful 
ministry,  if  he  grows  not  sound,  he  will  learn  to 
despise  the  word. 

Contemned  blessings  leave  room  for  curses.  He 
that  neglects  the  good  he  may  have,  shall  find  the 
evil  he  would  not  have.  Justly  he  sits  in  darkness, 
that  would  not  light  his  candle  when  the  fire  burned 
clearly. 

He  that  needs  counsel,  and  will  not  hear  it, 
destines  himself  to  misery,  and  is  the  willing  author 
of  his  own  woe.  Continue  at  a  stay  he  cannot 
long :  if  he  could,  not  to  procted  is  backward. 
And  this  is  as  dangerous  to  the  soul  as  the  other  to 
the  body.  Pitiful  is  his  estate  that  hates  the  thing 
that  should  help  him  ;  if  ever  you  see  a  drowning 
man  refuse  help,  conclude  him  a  wilful  murderer. 
When  God  affords  me  plentiful  means,  w-oe  be  to 
me  if  they  prove  not  profitable  !  1  had  better  have 
a  deaf  ear  than  hear  to  neglect  or  hate  ;  to  the 
burying  of  such  treasures  there  belongs  a  curse  ;  to 
their  misspending,  judgments. 

—Felltham,  1668. 

(2621.)  Nothing  can  be  more  fatal  than  a  habit 
of  indolent  hearing.  Like  one  who  glances  into  a 
mirror,  and  sees  disorder  in  his  attire,  or  dust  on 
his  face,  and  says,  "I  must  attend  to  this,"  but 
forthwith  forgets  it,  and  hurries  out  on  his  journey  ; 
or  who,  in  the  time  of  plague,  sees  the  livid  marks 
on  his  countenance,  and  says,  I  must  take  advice 
for  this,  and  thinks  no  more  about  it  till  he  drops 
death-stricken  on  the  pavement ;  so  there  are  languid 
or  luxurious  listeners  to  the  word  of  God.  At  the 
moment,  they  say  Very  true,  or  Very  good,  and  they 
resolve  to  take  some  action  ;  but  just  as  the  mirror 
is  not  medicine, — as  even  the  glassy  pool  does  not 
remove  from  the  countenance  the  specks  which  it 
reveals,  if  merely  looked  into,  so  a  self-survey  in 
the  clearest  sermon  will  neither  erase  the  blemishes 
from  your  character,  nor  expel  the  sin-plague  from 
your  soul.    (James  i.  19-25.) 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

16.  Should  exemplify  the  Gospel. 

(2622.)  As  it  is  the  minister's  task  to  make  known 
the  mystery  of  the  Gospel  in  his  pulpit,  so  it  is  your 
duty  to  do  the  same  in  your  lives.  The  Christian's 
life  should  put  his  minister's  sermon  in  print  ; 
he  should  preach  that  mystery  every  day  to  the 
eyes  of  his  neighbours,  which  the  minister  preacheth 
once  or  twice  a  week  to  their  ears.  As  a  true- made 
dial  agrees  with  the  sun  in  its  motion,  and  as  a  well- 
drawn  picture  resembles  the  face  from  which  it  is 
taken,  so  should  thy  conversation  resemble  that. 
Gospel  which  thou  professest. 

—  Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(2623.)  The  pulpit  should  be  like  the  key-board 
of  an  organ,  and  the  church  like  the  pipes.  It  if 
my  busmess  to  oress  down  the  keys  here,  and  it  is 


HEARERS. 


(    449    ) 


HEARERS. 


yours  to  respond  out  there.  Christian  life  ought 
to  be  so  exhibitory  that  when  you  look  at  a  Christian 
you  will  know  what  God"s  truth  is.  If  one  comes 
to  me  and  asks  the  meaning  of  faith,  and  humility, 
and  charity,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  puiiU  to  one  man 
and  say,  "There  is  faith,"  and  to  another,  "There 
is  humility,"  and  so  on  through  all  the  church  and 
all  the  graces.  Christ's  kingdom  will  not  come 
until  His  disciples  are  such  "  living  epistles,  known 
and  read  of  all  men."  — Baclur. 

16.  Sliould  endeavour  to  retain  -wbct  they  hear. 
{2624.)  Thou  must  be  a  retentive  hearer ;  wiih- 

out  this  the  work  will  ever  be  to  begin  again. 
Truths  to  a  forgetful  hearer  are  as  a  seal  set  on 
water,  the  impression  lasts  no  longer  than  the  seal 
is  on }  the  sermon  once  done,  all  is  undone. 

— Gii7-7tall,  1617-1679. 

^2625.)  Be  not  only  attentive  in  hearing,  but  re- 
tentive after  hearing.  "  We  ought  to  give  the 
more  diligent  heed  to  the  things  we  have  heard, 
lest  at  any  time  we  let  them  slip  " — lest  we  should 
let  them  run  out,  as  water  out  of  a  sieve.  If  the 
ground  doth  not  retain  the  seed  sown  into  it,  there 
can  be  no  good  crop.  Some  have  memories  like 
leaking  vessels,  the  sermons  they  hear  are  presently 
gone,  and  then  there  is  no  good  done. 

—  IVafson,  1696. 

(2626.)  "Let  these  sayings  (saith  Christ)  sink 
down  into  your  ears."  In  the  original  it  is.  Put 
these  sayings  into  your  ears,  as  a  man  that  would 
hide  a  jewel  from  being  stolen  locks  it  up  safe  in 
his  chest.  Let  them  sink  ;  the  word  must  not  only 
fall  as  dew  that  wets  the  leaf,  but  as  rain  which 
soaks  to  the  root  of  the  tree,  and  makes  it  fructify. 

—  Walson,  1696. 

(2627.)  If  you  would  hear  the  word  aright,  be  not 
only  attentive,  but  retentive.  Lay  the  word  up  in 
your  memories  and  hearts.  "The  seed  on  the 
ground  are  they,  who,  having  heard  the  word,  keep 
it."  The  Greek  word  for  "to  keep,"  signifies  "to 
hold  the  word  fast,  that  it  do  not  run  from  us."  If 
the  seed  be  not  kept  in  the  ground,  but  is  presently 
washed  away,  it  is  sown  to  liitle  purpose  :  so  if  the 
word  preached  be  not  kept  in  your  memories  and 
hearts,  it  is  preached  in  vain.  Many  people  have 
memories  like  leaky  vessels,  the  word  goes  out  as 
fast  as  it  comes  in,  how  can  it  profit?  If  a  trea- 
sure be  put  into  a  chest  and  the  chest  not  locked,  it 
may  easily  be  taken  out  :  a  bad  memory  is  like  a 
chest  without  a  lock,  the  devil  can  easily  take  out 
all  the  treasure.  "  Then  comes  the  devil  and  takes 
away  the  word  out  of  their  hearts."  Labour  to 
keep  in  memory  the  truths  you  hear  :  the  things  we 
esteem  we  are  not  so  apt  to  forget.  "  Will  a  bride 
forget  her  jewels  ?"  "  Can  a  maid  forget  her  orna- 
ments?" Did  we  prize  the  word  more,  we  should 
not  soon  forget  it.  — IVaison,  1696. 

17.  Consolations  for  discouraged  hearers. 

(l.)  In  hearing  the  tvoid,  however  imperfectly,  we 
»t  least  obey  God's  command. 

(2628.)  Afflicted  consciences  object,  that  they 
find  so  many  corruptions  in  their  hearing  of  God's 
word,  and  perform  these  duties  with  so  manifold 
and  gross  imperfections,  having  their  minds  wholly 
distracted  with  wandering  and  wicked  thou^di's,  yea 
sometimes  with  impious  imaginations  and  rebellious 
blasphemies ;  and  when  they  are  at  the  best,  receiv- 


ing these  glad  tidings  with  such  drowsy  dulness  and 
spiritual  dcadness,  such  hardness  of  heart,  and 
loathing  weariness,  that  they  are  so  far  from  profit- 
ing by  these  holy  exercises,  as  that  they  are  fully 
persuaded  all  they  do  is  turned  into  sin  ;  and  there- 
fore it  were  much  better  for  them  utterly  to  neglect 
and  omit  these  religious  duties,  than  by  performing 
them  to  increase  the  number  of  their  sins,  and  the 
fearful  measure  of  their  just  condemnation.  To 
which  I  answer, — 

To  hear  the  word  of  God  is  not  a  thing  arbitrary 
and  indiflercnt,  but  a  part  of  that  service  which  God 
necessarily  requires  to  be  performed  by  us.  And, 
therefore,  though  we  grievously  sin  in  the  doing  ot 
it,  yet  we  must  do  it  still,  seeing  we  cannot  so 
heinously  sin  in  the  hearing  of  the  word,  if  we 
endeavour  to  hear  it  as  reverently  and  profitably  as 
we  can,  as  we  shall  if  we  neglect  it  altogether.  For 
it  is  a  less  sin  to  fail  in  the  manner  of  doing,  than 
to  omit  the  main  duty  itself;  to  sin  of  infirmity  be- 
cause we  can  do  no  better  ;  than  of  wilfulness  and 
negligence  by  not  doing  what  we  can.  For  what 
father  would  not  take  it  better  at  his  child's  hand, 
if  he  perform  the  duty  which  he  has  enjoined,  though 
it  be  never  so  ill  and  imperfectly  done,  if  he  knows 
that  he  has  used  his  best  endeavour,  than  that  he 
should  utterly  neglect  it,  and  excuse  his  negligence 
by  his  inability  to  do  it  in  such  perfection  as  his 
father  required  ?  — Downame,  1644. 

(2.)  Our  imperfect  hearing  prepares  us  for  a  mote 
perfect  service  of  God. 

(2629.)  We  know  that  the  cunning  scribe  requirr^ 
his  scholar  should  exercise  his  hand,  though  for  the 
present  he  do  but  blot  paper  and  spoil  pens,  because 
this  small  loss  is  recompensed  by  a  greater  gain, 
and  by  practice  he  is  brought  from  bungling  to 
perfect  skill.  And  so  the  Lord  will  have  His  young 
novices  to  exercise  themselves  in  the  art  of  hearing, 
though  at  first  their  loss  seems  to  exceed  their  gain, 
because  in  time  it  will  turn  to  their  greater  advan- 
tage, as  being  the  means  to  bring  them  to  more 
perfection,  and  is  content  that  they  should  by  show- 
ing their  infirmities  and  corruptions  displease  Him 
for  a  while,  that  they  may  learn  the  way  to  please 
Him  for  ever. 

The  sick  man  who  has  lost  his  appetite  and 
loathes  the  sight  of  meat,  if  he  eat  thereof  is  made 
more  sick  and  weak  in  his  present  sense  and  feeling, 
but  yet  afterwards  he  finds  by  experience  that  it  was 
the  means  whereby  he  recovered  his  health  and 
strength.  And  so  being  sick  in  sin,  we  have  no 
desire  to  feed  on  this  spiritual  food,  but  through 
the  hardness  of  our  hearts  loathe  this  heavenly 
manna,  and  if  we  taste  thereof  (judging  according 
to  our  present  sense  and  feeling)  we  are  ready  to 
cry  out  that  our  sickness  of  sin  and  gross  corruptions 
are  rather  increased  than  abated  ;  and  yet  this  is  the 
food  whereby  presently  we  live,  and  for  the  time  to 
come  wax  healthy  and  strong  in  virtue  and  godli- 
ness. — Downame,  1644. 

(3.)  In  hearing,  our  sinfulness  is  not  created,  but 
revealed. 

{2630.)  Some  complain  that  the  more  they  hear 
the  greater  are  their  sins  and  rebellion  against  God. 
In  this  they  much  deceive  themselves.  F"or  the 
word  of  God  does  not  make  them  more  sinful  ;  but 
whereas  heretofore  they  lived  in  carnal  security  and 
hardness  of  heart,  having  their  understandings 
darkened,  and  tlieir  consciences  senre''  so  that  they 

2  F 


HEARERS. 


(    450    ) 


HEARERS. 


could  neither  see  nor  feel  their  sins,  though  they 
were  manifold  and  grievous  ;  now  the  word  of  God 
made  eftectual  by  the  inward  operation  of  His  Holy 
Spirit,  like  a  glorious  light  having  dispelled  the 
dark  foggy  mists  of  ignorance,  aiui  illuminated  their 
understandings  with  the  knowledge  of  God's  law, 
they  better  discern  their  sins  and  miserable  estate 
than  in  former  times.  And  this  the  Apostle  Paul 
shows  unto  us  in  his  own  example  (Rom.  vii.  9,  10, 
13).  The  preaching  of  the  law  does  not  make  us 
more  sinful,  but  reveals  those  sins  unto  us  which 
before  we  discerned  not ;  as  the  sun  shining  upon 
some  fflthy  place  does  not  make  it  so  flltliy,  but 
only  makes  it  manifest  which  was  not  seen  in  the 
dark.  — Downame,  1644. 

(4.)  Our  sense  of  imperfection  should  make  us 
more  constant  in  hearing. 

(2631.)  When  Satan  objects  our  unfitness  to  hear, 
because  our  ears  are  dull,  our  eyes  blind,  our  hearts 
hard,  and  our  wills,  affections,  and  all  the  powers 
and  faculties  of  our  bodies  and  souls  wholly  cor- 
rupted and  disordered,  this  must  not  move  us  to 
neglect  the  hearing  of  God's  word,  but  to  become 
hearers  thereof  with  more  care  and  diligence.  For 
it  is  the  two-edged  sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  will 
pierce  and  make  way  for  itself  to  enter,  and  will 
build  a  lodging  for  itself  to  dwell  in.  It  is  not  only 
a  guide  to  those  that  see,  but  a  precious  eye-salve 
to  give  sight  unto  those  born  blind.  It  is  not 
only  the  heavenly  dew  which  makes  God's  graces 
to  spring  in  us,  but  also  that  divine  seed  which 
gives  them  being  and  rooting  ir.  our  hearts.  It  is 
not  only  the  food  of  our  souls  to  preserve  and  in- 
crease that  strength  which  we  already  have,  but  also 
that  immortal  seed  by  which  we  are  first  begotten 
unto  God  and  born  again,  who  before  were  dead  in 
our  sins  ;  and  that  excellent  physic  of  our  souls  by 
which  they  are  purged  from  their  corruptions  and 
restored  to  health,  who  before  were  deadly  sick  in 
sin.  It  makes  us  first  to  will  that  which  is  good, 
and  then  further  to  desire  it.  It  gives  us  life  who 
before  were  dead  in  our  sins,  and  then  preserves  tliis 
life.  It  begets  and  begins  faith  and  sanctification 
and  all  other  graces  in  us  ;  and  being  begotten  and 
begun  it  strengthens  and  increases  them.  And  there- 
fore, let  not  Satan  dissuade  us  from  the  hearing  of 
God's  word  because  of  our  sins,  unworthiness,  and 
unfitness.  For  as  it  is  a  notable  means  ordained  of 
God  for  the  increasing  of  grace  where  it  already  is, 
so  it  is  no  less  effectual  for  the  begetting  of  graces 
where  it  never  was.  — Downaine,  1644. 

(2632.)  There  is  no  wise  man  that  will  neglect  his 
trade  because  he  is  poor,  but  rather  this  will  move 
him  to  be  more  painful  therein,  as  being  the  means 
whereby  he  may  become  rich.  Neither  do  men 
refuse  all  nourishment,  because  they  have  empty 
and  hungry  stomachs,  but  do  more  earnestly  desire 
meats  that  they  may  be  filled  and  satisfied.  Yea, 
even  those  whose  stomachs  are  weak  do  not  al- 
together refuse  their  food,  but  eat  something  to 
sharpen  their  appetite,  and  so  by  little  and  little  in 
using  their  stomachs  they  get  stomachs.  Let  us 
follow  the  like  practice,  and  when  we  perceive  our 
beggarliness  in  God's  graces,  let  us  more  earnestly 
labour  after  this  heavenly  treasure  and  precious 
pearl,  that  we  may  be  made  rich.  When  we  feel 
our  emptiness  of  all  virtue  and  goodness,  let  us 
more  eagerly  hunger  after  this  spiritual  manna  that 
we  may  be  filled  and  satis'-ed.     When  we  find  ©ui 


appetite  weak  and  our  stomachs  indisposed  to  eat 
of  this  heavenly  food,  let  us  a  little  force  ourselves 
against  the  appetite,  or  use  all  good  means  to 
strength  it  ;  and  so  we  shall  find  that  the  oftener 
we  eat,  the  oftener  we  shall  desire,  the  more  we 
hear  the  word  of  God,  the  more  we  shall  desire  to 
hear,  and  the  greater  benefit  we  shall  receive  by  it. 
Whereas  neglect  of  hearing  will  make  us  every  day 
more  unfit  to  hear,  even  as  long  abstinence  doth 
quite  spoil  the  stomach.  — Downame,  1644. 

(5.)  Our  very  weakness  may  render  our  service 
more  acceptable  to  God. 

(2633.)  If  a  soldier  being  strong  and  valiant  do  in 
all  encounters  go  away  with  victory  and  triumph,  it 
is  no  great  wonder  if  at  his  captain's  command  he 
hazard  the  combat,  because  his  success  whets  his 
courage  and  heartens  him  to  any  attempt.  But  if 
another,  who  being  weak  and  feeble,  has  continually 
in  every  fight  received  wounds  and  foils,  doth  wil- 
lingly as  often  as  his  captain  appoints  him  enter  the 
field,  and  stand  to  it  in  all  encounters,  having  no 
confidence  in  his  own  strength  or  hope  of  good 
success,  only  in  obedience  to  his  captain's  command, 
surely  such  an  one  is  no  less  to  be  admired  for  his 
love  and  duty  in  attempting,  than  to  be  pitied  for 
his  weakness  and  inability  in  performing  ;  and  ex- 
ceeding the  other  as  much  in  submissive  obedience, 
as  he  is  exceeded  by  him  in  strength  and  power, 
his  weak  endeavours  must  needs  please  his  com- 
mander. And  so  it  is  no  great  wonder  if  those  who 
are  strong  in  God's  graces  do  willingly  perform  unto 
Him  that  service  He  reqiures,  and  resist  Satan  after 
they  have  often  put  him  to  flight.  But  if  one  who  is  by 
reason  of  his  weakness  continually  foiled,  and  over- 
come of  sin  in  all  his  services  wherein  he  is  employed, 
be,  notwithstanding,  still  ready  at  God's  command 
to  attempt  the  performance  of  any  duty,  and,  as  it 
were,  wounded  and  maimed,  doth  endure  the  conflict 
only  in  love  and  obedience  to  the  Lord  of  h'Sts, 
surely  this  service  must  needs  be  acceptable  to  God, 
and  in  the  end  He  wid  so  rescue  him  with  the  power 
of  His  Spirit,  that  he  shall  obtain  the  victory,  and 
make  him  as  commendable  in  the  time  to  come  for 
his  strength  and  abilities,  as  he  was  before  for  his 
obedience  and  duty.  — Downame,  1644. 

18.  Where  all  seems  lost,  much  really  may  be 
gained. 

(2634.)  We  know  that  the  seed  does  not  presently 
bring  forth  fruit  when  it  is  cast  into  the  ground,  but 
first  it  seems  to  rot  and  perish,  and  then  it  sprouts 
up  in  a  green  blade,  and  then  it  bears  an  ear,  and  a 
great  increase  and  much  fruit.  And  so  it  fares 
sometimes  in  hearing  the  word  of  God.  For  at 
first  it  seems  quite  lost  and  perished,  being  sown  in 
some  grounds,  and  yet  afterwards  it  brings  forth 
not  only  a  fair  green  blade  of  an  outward  profession, 
but  also  a  great  increase  of  the  ripe  fruits  of  true 
godliness. 

So  also  the  sick  patient,  taking  sovereign  physic, 
is  not  presently  cured,  nay,  instead  of  feeling  any 
ease  thereby  he  is  made  much  more  sick  in  his  own 
sense  and  feeling  ;  and  yet  after  the  physic  has  a 
little  while  wrought  with  him,  and  purged  him  of 
some  superfluous  and  hurtful  humours,  he  finds 
some  amendment,  and  so,  by  little  and  little,  he  is 
restored  to  his  former  health.  And  so  it  is  also  with 
the  spiritually  sick  patient.  He  does  not  always 
presently  find  ease  and  quiet  peace  of  conscience; 
nay,  many  times  he  is  tormented  and  vexed  after 


HEARERS. 


(    4SI     ) 


HEARING. 


he  has  received  the  spiritual  physic  of  the  soul  — 
the  word  of  God,  more  than  ever  in  former  times. 
But  yet,  notwithstanding,  in  process  of  time,  when 
this  physic  has  effectually  wrought  with  him,  it 
purges  him  from  his  filthy  corruptions,  and 
Strengthens  him  in  all  grace  and  godliness. 

And,  therefore,  though  we  presently  feel  no 
profitable  fruits  of  hearing,  let  not  this  discourage 
us  from  hearing  ;  nay,  rather  let  it  serve  as  a  sharp 
spur  to  prick  us  forward  with  more  diligence,  and 
let  us  join  therewith  hearty  prayer,  desiring  the 
Lord  to  water  the  seed  of  His  word  sown  in  our 
hearts  with  the  dew  of  His  Holy  Spirit ;  and  then 
undoubtedly  in  the  end  the  Lord  will  henr  us,  and 
to  our  exceeding  comfort  show  unto  us  the  plenti- 
ful fruits  of  all  our  labours.       — Vownatne,  1644. 

(2635.)  Even  when  the  Christian  through  weak- 
ness of  memory  cannot  remember  the  very  words 
he  hears,  to  repeat  them  ;  yet  then  he  keeps  the 
power  and  savour  of  them  in  his  spirit,  as  when 
sugar  is  dissolved  in  wine,  you  cannot  see  it,  but 
you  may  taste  it.  What  meat  is  eaten  and  digested, 
it  is  not  to  be  found  as  it  was  received,  but  the  man 
is  cheered  and  strengthened  by  it,  more  able  to 
walk  and  work  than  before,  by  which  you  may  know 
it  is  not  lost  ;  so  you  may  taste  the  truths  the 
Christian  heard,  in  his  spirit,  see  them  in  his  life. 
Perhaps  if  you  ask  him  what  the  particulars  were 
the  minister  had  about  faith,  mortification,  repent- 
ance, and  the  like,  he  cannot  tell  you  ;  yet  this  you 
may  find,  his  heart  is  more  broken  for  sin,  more 
enabled  to  rely  on  the  promises,  and  now  weaned 
from  the  world.  As  that  good  woman  answered 
one  that,  coming  from  sermon,  asked  her  what  3he 
remembered  of  the  sermon?  said,  Siie  could  not  at 
present  recall  much,  but  she  heard  that  which 
should  make  her  reform  some  things  as  soon  as  she 
came  home.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2636.)  "I  should  be  most  thankful  were  I  like 
you,"  said  the  Funnel  to  the  Uottle  ;  "you  keep 
all  that  is  poured  into  you*;  but,  as  for  me,  1  can 
hold  nothing  !  All  goes  out  again  as  fast  as  it  comes 
in." 

"And,  what  of  it?"  said  the  Bottle. 

"Therefore,  of  course,  all  is  lost  on  me!"  an- 
swered the  Funnel. 

"That  cannot  be,  assuredly,  my  dear  friend, 
whatever  you  suppose,"  replied  the  Bottle,  "for, 
whilst  you  are  moistened  by  what  you  receive — 
which  also  refreshes  you  at  the  time,  and  the 
savour  is  left  behind  on  you  afterwards — you  gain 
the  benefit  of  what  is  conveyed,  although  the  fulness 
cannot  possibly  be  retained,  as  you  desire." 

"Oh,  that  I  could  retain  the  sermon  I  heard  1  but 
it  always  goes  from  my  memory  as  fast  as  the  words 
enter  my  ears  ! "  is  often  the  lamentation  of  a 
desiring  soul ;  who  therefore  argues  most  unfavour- 
ably by  itself  spiritually.  But,  as  the  water  pass- 
ing through  the  wool  cleanses  it,  while  the  wool 
retains  not  the  water,  so  the  spiritual  mind  may  be 
refreshed  and  purified  when  the  memory  cannot 
bring  home  the  recollection  of  the  word. 

— Bowden. 

(2637.)  Bishop  Hoskyns  of  old  time  thus  encou- 
rages those  readers  and  hearers  of  the  word  who, 
though  earnest  in  their  desires,  yet  sometimes  fail 
in  their  elTorls  to  keep  in  memory  the  lively  oracles  : 
"  I  have  heard  of  one  who,  returning  from  an 
affecting  sermon,  highly  commei:  "Jed   it    to  some ; 


and  being  demanded  what  he  remembered  of  it, 
answered  :  "Truly  I  remember  nothing  at  all  ;  but 
only  while  I  heard  it,  it  made  me  resolve  to  live 
belter;  and  so,  by  Goii's  grace,  1  will." 

Tliere  is  a  story  to  the  same  purpose  of  one  who 
complained  to  a  holy,  aged  man,  that  he  was  dis- 
couraged from  reading  tlie  .Scriptures,  because  he 
could  fasten  nuiliing  upon  his  memory.  The  old 
hermit  baile  him  take  an  eaillien  pitcher  and  fill  it 
with  water.  He  then  bade  him  empty  it  again  and 
wipe  it  clean,  that  nothing  should  remain  in  it. 
This  being  done,  "Now,"  said  he,  "though  there 
being  nothing  of  the  water  remaining  in  it,  yet  the 
pitcher  is  cltaner  than  it  was  beioie  ;  so  though  thy 
memory  retain  nothing  ofth.e  word  thou  reade.^t.  yet 
thy  heart  is  cleaner  for  its  very  passage  through." 


HEARING. 

1.  Is  a  natural  Instinct  of  the  new  life. 
(2638.)  The  hearts  of  believers  are  carried  out  to 

desire  the  word  of  communion  with  God  from 
instinct,  and  not  from  any  outward  inducement. 
The  cause  of  the  natural  appetite  is  not  persuasion 
and  discourse,  but  inclination  ;  not  argument,  but 
nature.  Appetite  is  an  effect  of  life.  As  new-born 
babes  desire  the  milk,  not  by  instruction  but 
instinct,  without  a  teacher  ;  as  all  creatures  desire 
to  preserve  that  life  which  they  have,  and  therefore 
run  by  a  natural  propension  to  the  teats  of  their 
dams  ;  as  trees  that  receive  life  from  the  earth  and 
sun  stretch  out  their  branches  to  receive  the  sun, 
and  strike  deep  their  roots  into  the  earth  wjiich 
brought  them  forth  ;  and  as  the  chicken  is  no 
sooner  out  of  the  shell,  but  it  shrouds  itself  under 
the  feathers  of  the  hen  ;  and  the  little  Iamb  runs  to 
its  dam  thougli  there  may  be  a  thousand  sheep  of 
the  same  wool  and  colour,  as  if  it  said,  Here  1  re- 
ceived what  I  have,  and  here  I'll  seek  what  1  want 
—  so  by  such  a  native,  inbred  desire  do  the  saints 
run  to  God's  word,  and  seek  a  supply  of  strength 
and  nourishment  ;  and  the  desire  is  very  strong  ar.d 
vehement — "  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lea, 
that  will  I  seek  after,"  &c.  What  is  the  rei'y.vi  of 
this?  You  may  as  well  ask  what  teacheth  the  young 
lambs  to  suck,  and  what  teacheth  the  chicken  to 
run  under  the  wing  of  the  hen,  as  who  taught  the 
regenerate  to  long  for  the  word.  It  is  the  instinct 
of  a  spiritual  nature.  And  it  shows  that  all  who  do 
not  "desire  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word,"  and 
have  no  such  kindly  appetite  for  the  ordinances, 
who  can  relish  nothing  but  meats  and  drinks,  busi- 
ness, wealth,  vanities — were  never  acquainted  with 
the  new  nature.  — Salter,  1840. 

2,  Its  Importance. 

(2639.)  There  is  more  hope  of  the  worst  professor 
that  hears  the  word,  and  attends  unto  it,  than  of 
the  best  of  civil  [moral]  men  that  in  profaneness  of 
heart  refuse  it.  ...  If  thou  seest  two  men  most 
dangerously  sick  of  divers  diseases,  and  all  mortal 
except  they  be  cured,  arid  one  of  them  putting  him- 
self under  the  physician's  hand,  the  other  rejecting 
both  physic  and  the  physician  ;  whether  of  these  is 
more  likely  to  be  restored  and  live?  Is  not  he  that 
takes  the  receipt  and  medicine  that  is  ministered  ? 
So  is  it  in  the  sickness  of  the  soul.  If  we  hea-kea 
to  the  word,  which  is  a  spiritual  medicine  to  heal 
every  malady,  we  may  be  reclaimed. 

— Atterso!,  1618. 


HEARING. 


(    452     ) 


HEARING. 


(2640.)  "Despise  not  prophecy,  quench  not  the 
Spirit."  The  coupling  of  these  things  together 
shows  that  if  we  despise  prophecy,  we  quench  the 
Spirit  ;  as  fire  goes  out  not  only  by  pouring  on 
water,  but  by  neglecting  to  stir  and  blow  it  up.  To 
expect  help  from  God  when  we  are  sluggish,  is  to 
tempt  Christ,  and  put  Ilini  still  upon  a  miraculous 
way  to  heal  and  cure  our  distempers.  Who  will 
bring  bread  and  meat  to  a  sluggard's  bed  who 
will  not  arise  to  labour  for  it,  or  will  not  rise  at 
least  to  fetch  it?  Therefore,  ii  we  will  not  attend 
upon  God  in  the  means  of  grace.  He  will  not  bring 
us  that  help,  comfort,  and  support  that  otherwise 
we  might  have,  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

(2641.)  Some  hai^e  indeed  been  converted  by 
reading,  as  Luiher,  Augustine,  Junius,  and  others 
confess  they  were;  but  most  commonly  it  is  by 
hearing  that  men's  souls  come  to  live  (Rom.  x.  14). 
There  is  a  blessing  for  readers ;  and  there  may  be  a 
fish  or  two  caught  in  the  net  that  is  let  down  in  a 
heap,  but  that  is  rare  ;  it  is  not  the  net  lapped  up 
together,  but  haled  out  at  length  and  spread  all 
abroad,  that  bringeth  in  the  draught  :  so  it  is  the 
spreading  out  the  word,  the  dilating  on  the  matter 
in  hand,  which  usually  catcheth  souls. 

— Szuinnock,  1673. 

(2642.)  Tf  thou  wouldst  attain  to  divine  know- 
ledge, wait  on  the  ministry  of  the  word.  As  for 
those  who  neglect  this,  and  come  not  where  the 
word  is  preached,  they  do  like  one  that  should  turn 
his  back  on  the  sun,  that  he  may  see  it  ;  if  thou 
wouldst  know  God,  come  where  He  hath  appointed 
thee  to  learn.  Indeed,  where  the  means  are  not, 
God  hath  extraordinary  ways;  as  a  father,  if  no 
school  in  town,  will  teach  his  child  at  home  ;  but  if 
there  be  a  public  school,  thither  he  sends  him. 
"  God  makes  inanifist,  saith  Paul,  ihe  savour  of  IJis 
knowli-di^e  by  us  in  ei'ery  place."  Let  men  talk  of 
the  Spirit  what  tliey  please  :  he  will  at  last  be  found 
a  quencher  of  the  Spirit  that  is  a  despiser  of  pro- 
phecy ;  they  both  stand  close  together.  "  Quench 
not  the  Spirit,  despise  not propkesvins^." 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2643.)  Objection.  "  I  can  profit  as  much  by  stay- 
ing at  home  and  reading  the  Scripture  or  some  good 
book  ;  it  is  the  word  of  God  which  they  preach,  and 
it  is  that  which  I  read  at  home.  The  books  that 
are  wriiten  by  learned  men  are  better  than  the  ser- 
ine ns  tliat  are  preaciied  by  our  ministers." 

Answer.  What  foolish  pretences  are  these  against 
the  plain  command  of  God  and  our  own  necessary 
duty  !  When  God  hath  ajjpointed  you  your  duty, 
will  He  allow  you  to  forsake  it  upon  your  own 
reason,  as  if  you  were  wiser  than  God,  and  knew 
what  will  profit  you  better  than  He?  If  your  phy- 
sician give  you  a  medicine,  and  bid  you  take  it  for 
the  cure  of  your  disease,  will  you  be  wiser  than  he, 
and  say.  Why  may  not  such  and  such  a  thing  serve 
my  turn  as  well,  or  better  ?  If  you  will  needs  be  your 
own  physician,  and  forsake  God's  direction,  and 
cure  yourselves,  do  it  as  well  as  you  can,  and  what 
will  become  of  it?  It  is  a  strange  thing  that  a 
sottish  sinner  should  think  himself  wiser  than  God, 
and  take  upon  him  to  mend  His  word,  and  find  out 
a  better  way  to  heaven  than  He  hath  prescribed 
him.  .  .  . 

Is  it  not  horrible  pride  in  ycu  to  think  that  you 
aic  able    to  understand   the  word   of  God  as  well 


without  a  teacher  as  with  one  ?    The  eunuch  said 

to  Philip,  when  he  asked  him  whether  he  under- 
stood what  he  read,  "How  can  I  except  some 
man  should  guide  me  ? "  And  yet  you  think  you 
can  read  the  word  at  home  as  profitably  without  a 
guide  ;  as  if  your  children  that  go  to  school  should 
say,  "  We  have  the  same  books  at  home,  and  there- 
fore we  will  not  go  to  school  ;  our  master  doth 
but  feach  us  grammar,  and  other  books,  and  these 
we  can  read  at  home."  You  are  wise  men,  that 
know  no  more  of  your  own  ignorance  ;  and  humble 
men,  that  think  you  have  no  need  of  teaching  ;  as 
if  God  had  appointed  His  ministers  and  ordinances 
in  vain.  — Baxter,  1 61 5-169 1. 

8.  Should  be  practised  constantly. 

(2644.)  The  apostle  exhorts,  "Let  the  word  of 
Christ  dwell  in  you,"  because  it  must  not  take  up  a 
night's  lodging  and  so  be  gone,  but  it  must  have 
a  continual  residence  and  abode  in  our  hearts. 
Though  the  ground  be  good,  yet  it  must  have  the 
former  and  the  latter  rain  to  make  it  fertile  :  and 
yet  many  of  us  think  to  grow  green  with  one  shower, 
and  to  go  unto  heaven  with  one  sermon. 

— d/enry  Smith,  1 593. 

(2645.)  It  is  the  glory  of  God's  word,  not  that  it 
is  come,  but  that  it  shall  remain  for  ever :  it  is  the 
glory  of  a  Christian,  not  that  he  has  heard,  but 
that  he  desires  to  hear  still.  Are  the  angels  weary 
of  looking  on  that  face  of  God  which  they  looked 
on  yesterday  ?  Or  are  the  saints  wearying  of  singing 
that  song  which  they  sung  to  God's  glory  yester- 
day? And  is  not  that  Hallelujah,  that  song  which 
is  their  morning  and  evening  sacrifice,  and  which 
shall  be  their  song  world  without  end,  called  still 
"a  new  song"? 

Do  not  you  be  weary  of  hearing  those  things 
which  you  have  heard  Irom  others  before. 

— Donne,  1573-1631. 

(2646.)  A  bucket  may,  for  want  of  use  and  by 
standing  dry,  be  so  full  of  slits  and  rifts  that  all  the 
water  you  take  up  with  it  runneth  out  ;  yet  the  often 
dipping  it  into  the  well,  and  filling  it  with  water, 
will  make  it  moister  than  otherwise  it  would  have 
been,  and  more  retentive.  Thus  it  is  with  our 
memories  in  the  things  concerning  God  and  the 
good  of  our  souls,  being  very  brittle  and  pertuse, 
they  will  hold  very  little  or  nothing  at  all  ;  this 
must,  therefore,  be  matter  of  great  necessity  to  hear 
often,  that  the  frequent  inculcation  of  the  same 
things  may  imprint  that  in  our  mind  by  often  hear- 
ing, which  others  of  more  happy  memories  have 
got  at  the  first.  — Gouge,  1 575-1 653. 

(2647.)  Children  cannot  suck  long  at  a  time,  nor 
digest  much  ;  and  therefore  they  need  the  more 
frequent  returns  of  their  meals.  vSuch  children  are 
as  believers  in  this  world.  "  Precept  must  be  upon 
precept,  line  upon  line."  The  breast  of  the  word 
must  be  often  drawn,  or  else  they  cannot  be 
nourished.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2648.)  We  should  take  the  present  opportunities 
of  our  souls,  to  hear  and  learn  as  Mary  did.  She 
stands  not  cavilling  like  our  full-stomach  hearers 
that  ask.  How  can  you  prove  that  I  am  bound  to 
hear  such  a  lecture,  or  to  come  to  church  and  hear 
a  sermon  twice  on  the  Lord's  day,  or  to  come  to 
the  minister  to  ask  advice,  or  be  instructed  by  him  ? 
No  more  than  a  hungry  rran  will  ask,  How  prove 


HEARING. 


i  4.53  ; 


HEARING. 


you  that  it  is  my  duty  to  eat  every  day  ?  Or  than  a 
sick  man  will  say,  How  prove  you  that  I  am  bound 
to  seek  to  the  physician,  to  go  or  send  to  his  house, 
and  to  look  after  him  ?  As  there  is  much  in  the 
very  new  nature,  and  health,  and  relish  of  a  f^racious 
soul,  to  decide  such  controversies  as  these  without 
any  subtlety  of  argument,  so  a  Christian's  prudence 
and  care  of  his  salvation  will  tell  him,  that  when 
Christ  hath  a  voice  to  speak  to  him,  it  beseemelh 
him  to  have  an  ear  to  hear ;  and  that  the  sermon 
telleth  the  hearer  the  season  of  his  duty,  and  the 
offer  of  a  mercy  telleth  when  it  is  our  duty  to  accept 
it,  without  any  other  more  particular  obligation  ; 
unless  when  we  can  truly  say  as  before  God,  that  some 
duty  that  at  that  time  is  greater  hindereth  us.  These 
are  easy  questions  to  those  that  savour  the  things 
of  the  Spirit.  When  Christ  is  speaking,  Mary  will 
be  hearing  ;  and  lesser  things  shall  not  call  her  off. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

4.  SHiotild  toe  preceded  by  appropriate  prepara- 
tlon. 

(2649.)  A  man  will  not  keep  the  Sabbath  in  his 
working  apparel,  but  will  put  on  liis  richest  jewels, 
and  anay  himself  in  his  best  attire  ;  and  yet  we 
make  no  scruple  at  all  to  come  unto  tlie  Sal)bath's 
exercise  with  a  prolane,  and  a  wicked,  and  our 
working-day  heart.  — Henry  Smith,  1593. 

(2650.)  If  we  preach  to  hard  hearts,  it  is  like 
shooting  against  a  brazen  wall,  the  word  doth  not 
enter  ;  it  is  like  setting  a  gold  seal  upon  marble 
which  takes  no  impression.  Oh,  come  to  the  word 
preached  with  a  melting  frame  of  heart  !  it  is  the 
melting  wax  receives  the  stamp  of  the  seal  ;  when 
the  heart  is  in  a  melting  frame,  it  will  better  receive 
the  stamp  of  the  word  preached.  When  Paul's 
heart  was  melted  and  broken  for  sin,  then  "  1  ord, 
what  wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do?"  Come  not  hither 
with  hard  hearts ;  who  can  expect  a  crop  when  the 
seed  is  sown  upon  stony  ground  ? 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2651.)  Be  acquainted  with  the  failings  of  your 
hearts  and  lives,  and  come  on  purpose  to  get  direc- 
tions and  helps  against  those  particular  failings. 
You  will  not  know  what  medicine  you  need,  much 
less  how  to  use  it,  if  you  know  not  what  aileth  you. 
Know  what  duties  you  omit  or  carelessly  perform, 
and  know  what  sins  you  are  most  guilty  of,  and  say 
when  you  go  out  of  doors,  I  go  to  Christ  for  physic 
for  my  own  disease.  I  hope  to  hear  something 
before  I  come  back  which  may  help  me  more 
against  this  sin,  and  fit  me  belter  for  my  duty,  or 
provoke  me  more  effectually.  Are  those  men  like 
to  practise  Christ's  direction  that  either  know  not 
their  disease,  or  love  it  and  would  not  have  it  cured  ? 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

{2652.)  There  is  a  great  difference  between  a 
person  who  comes  to  church  on  Sunday  morning 
with  his  heart  hard  from  the  world,  and  full  ot 
worldly  cares,  and  running  on  his  business  or  his 
pleasure  all  the  time  of  service,  and  another  who 
comes  from  his  sacred  devotion,  from  his  reading 
of  the  Bible,  from  his  solemn  meditation  on  its 
truths,  from  his  earnest  prayer  that  God  would  bless 
the  worship  of  His  house.  .  Now,  how  difierently 
will  these  two  engage  in  the  worship  of  our  Lord  ! 
The  one  comes  with  his  soul  ready  warmed  (as  it 
were)  to  offer  sacrifice  ;  the  fire  is  already  burning 
on  t^ie  altar.     The  other  comes  with  his  soul  cold 


and  hard  ;  and,  instead  of  beginning  at  once  to 
worship,  he  needs  first  to  try  and  begin  to  get  ready 
to  do  so.  What  wonder,  then,  if  the  very  same 
words  which  seem  weary  and  heartless  to  the  un- 
prepared worshipper,  should  be  full  of  interest  and 
life  to  the  prepared  one?  I  wish  heartily,  my 
friends,  that  we  were  all  more  earnestly  set  to  pre- 
pare before  coming  to  God's  house  !  It  is  curious, 
that  with  the  needfulness  of  preparation  so  plain 
and  so  pressing,  it  should  be  so  much  neglected. 
Really  the  thing  is  too  plain. 

You  know  it  would  never  do  to  bring  out  a  loco- 
motive engine  without  any  fire  in  its  furnace,  and 
without  any  steam  in  its  boiler,  and  fasten  it  to  a 
train,  and  expect  it  to  draw  it  away.  No ;  the 
engine  can  draw  the  train  when  it  has  been  pre- 
pared to  do  so  ;  it  cannot  when  it  is  not.  And  in 
like  manner,  unless  a  man  gets  up  the  fire,  as  it 
were,  in  his  heart,  before  going  to  God's  house, 
he  cannot  start  ofl'  at  once,  so  to  speak,  in  God's 
worship.  Would  that  we  could  always  be  sure, 
when  we  take  our  accustomed  places  here  on  the 
morning  of  each  Lord's  day,  that  hundreds  of  earnest 
prayers  have  gone  up  that  morning  already  for  a 
blessing  in  our  worship  ;  and  that  when  we  blend 
our  supplications  in  one,  and  send  them  up  in  the 
sanctuary  with  a  single  voice,  we  are  only  continuing 
a  pleasant  work  of  communion  with  our  God  and 
Saviour,  begun  already  in  our  own  chambers  and  by 
our  own  firesides  1  — Boyd. 

(2653.)  If  privileged  and  professin-g  hearers  of 
the  Gospel  come  short  of  the  kingdom,  the  fault 
lies  not  in  the  seed — the  fault  lies  not  often  or  to  a 
great  extent  even  in  the  sower,  although  his  work 
may  have  been  feebly  and  unskilfully  done.  If  the 
seed  is  good,  and  the  ground  well  prepared,  a  very 
poor  and  awkward  kind  of  sowing  will  suffice. 
Seed  flung  in  any  fashion  into  the  soft  ground  will 
grow ;  whereas,  if  it  fall  on  the  wayside,  it  will 
bear  no  fruit,  however  artfully  it  may  have  been 
spread.  My  father  was  a  practical  and  skilful 
agriculturist.  I  was  wont,  when  very  young,  to 
follow  his  footsteps  into  the  field,  further  and 
oftener  than  was  convenient  for  him,  or  comfortable 
for  myself.  Knowing  well  how  much  a  child  is 
gratified  by  being  permitted  to  imitate  a  man's 
work,  he  sometimes  hung  the  seed-bag,  with  a  few 
handfuls  in  it,  upon  my  siioulder,  and  sent  me  into 
the  field  to  sow.  1  contrived  in  some  way  to  throw 
the  grain  away,  and  it  fell  among  the  clods.  But 
the  seed  that  fell  from  an  infant's  hands,  when  it 
fell  in  the  right  place,  grew  as  well  and  ripened  as 
fully  as  that  which  had  been  scattered  by  a  strong 
and  skilful  man.  In  like  manner,  in  the  spiritual 
department,  the  skill  of  the  sower,  although  im- 
portant in  its  own  place,  is,  in  view  of  the  final 
result,  a  subordinate  thing.  The  cardinal  points  are 
the  seed  and  the  soil.  In  point  of  fact,  through- 
out the  history  of  the  Church,  while  the  Lord 
abundantly  honoured  His  own  ordinance  of  a  stand- 
ing ministry.  He  has  never  ceased  to  show,  by  grant- 
ing signal  success  to  feeble  instruments,  that  results 
in  His  work  are  not  necessarily  proportionate  to  the 
number  of  talents  employed. 

Nor  does  that  of  failure,  in  the  last  resort,  lie  in 
the  soil.  The  man  who  receives  the  Gospel  only 
on  the  hard  surface  of  a  careless  life,  is  of  the  same 
flesh  and  blood,  endued  with  the  same  under- 
standing mind  and  immortal  spirit,  with  his  neigh- 
bour who  ha5   already  become  a  new  creature  in 


HEARING. 


(    454    ) 


HEARING, 


Christ.  Believers  and  unbelievers  are  possessed  of 
the  same  nature  and  faculties.  As  the  ground 
whidi  has  been  trodden  into  the  footpath  is  in  all 
its  essential  qualities  the  same  as  that  which  has 
been  broken  small  by  the  plough  and  harrow  :  so 
the  human  constitution  and  faculties  of  one  who 
lives  without  God  in  the  world,  are  substantially 
the  same  as  those  which  belong  to  the  redeemed  of 
the  Lord.  It  was  the  breaking  of  the  ground 
which  caused  the  difference  between  the  fruitful 
field  and  the  barren  wayside.  So  those  minds  and 
hearts  that  now  bear  the  fruits  of  faith  were  barren 
till  they  were  broken  ;  and  those  on  which  the 
good  seed  has  often  been  thrown,  only  to  he  thrown 
away,  may  yet  yield  an  increase  of  a  hundredfold  to 
their  owner,  when  conviction  and  repentance  shall 
have  rent  them  open  to  admit  the  word  of  life. 

— A  mot. 

6.  Should  have  for  its  end  personal  profit. 

(2654.)  As  the  little  birds  perk  up  their  heads 
when  their  dam  comes  with  meat,  and  prepare  their 
beaks  to  take  it,  striving  who  shall  catch  most — 
now  this  looks  to  be  served,  and  now  that  looks  for 
a  bit,  and  every  mouth  is  open  till  it  be  filled  :  so 
you  are  here  like  birds,  and  we  the  dam,  and  the 
word  the  food.  Therefore,  you  must  prepare  a 
mouth  to  take  it.  Tiiey  who  are  hungry  will  strive 
for  the  bread  which  is  cast  among  them,  and  think, 
"This  is  spoken  to  me,"  "This  is  spoken  to  me," 
"  I  have  need  of  this,"  "And  I  have  need  of  this." 
**  Corn/01 1,  go  thou  to  my  fear!"  "Promise,  go 
thou  to  my  distrust  !"  "  Thrmteiii'i^,  go  thou  to 
my  security  ! "  And  the  word  shall  be  like  a  per- 
fume, which  has  an  odour  for  every  one. 

— Hem  J  Smith,  1593. 

(2655.)  Many  men  take  no  pleasure  in  flowers, 
or  care  any  further  for  them  than  to  look  upon  them, 
to  smell  them,  and  have  them  in  their  hands  ;  but 
the  bees  ilraw  from  them  both  honey  and  wax,  and 
the  skilful  apothecary  makelh  many  medicines  of 
them  against  divers  and  sundry  diseases.  Thus, 
many  hear  sermons  only  for  their  pleasure,  for  the 
elegancy  of  the  style,  delicacy  of  the  words,  smooth- 
ness of  the  language,  and  gracefulness  of  the 
delivery  ;  this  is  but  to  make  a  nosegay  to  smell 
for  a  while,  and  cast  it  anon  after  into  a  corner — to 
hear  the  word  gladly,  but  in  time  of  temptation  to 
fall  away.  — Fonseca. 

(2656.)  In  waiting  on  the  ministry,  attend  to  the 
doctrine  as  well  as  the  precept  ;  the  former  is 
required  to  make  thee  z.  solid  Christian,  as  the  latter 
to  make  thee  a  warm  and  obedient  one.  Planting 
goes  before  watering,  and  so  should  teaching  before 
exhorting.  — Gurnall,  1617-1619. 

(2657.)  If  any  of  you  are  troubled  with  the  itch 
of  curiosity,  and  love  to  be  wise  above  what  is 
written,  and  delight  to  scan  the  choice  mysteries 
of  religion  by  carnal  reason,  and  affect  elegant  ex- 
pressions and  seraphical  notions,  and  the  flowers  of 
rhetoric,  more  than  sound  and  wholesome  truths, 
then  you  may  ease  yourselves,  if  you  please,  of  the 
trouble  of  reading  this  following  treatise  ;  only 
remember  this,  that  the  prudent  husbandman  looks 
more  and  delights  more  in  the  ripeness  and  sound- 
ness and  goodness  of  the  corn  that  is  in  his  field, 
than  he  does  at  the  beauty  of  the  cockle  ;  and  re- 
member that  no  man  can  live  more  miserably  than 


he  that  lives  altogether  upon  sauces  ;  and  he  that 
looks  more  at  the  handsomeness  than  he  does  at 
the  wholesomeness  of  the  dishes  of  meat  that  are 
set  before  him,  may  well  pass  for  a  fool. 

— Brooks,  1 608- 1 680. 

(265S.)  It  is  a  strange  folly  in  multitudes  of  us 
to  set  ourselves  no  mark,  to  propound  no  end  in  the 
hearing  of  the  Gospel. 

The  merchant  sails  not  only  that  he  may  sail, 
but  for  traffic,  and  traffics  that  he  may  be  rich. 

The  husbandman  ploughs  not  only  to  keep  him- 
self busy  with  no  further  end,  but  ploughs  that  he 
may  sow,  and  sows  that  he  may  reap  with  advan- 
tage. 

And  shall  we  do  the  most  excellent  and  fruitful 
work  fruitlessly  ?  hear  only  to  hear  and  look  no 
further?  — Ldghloti,  1611-1684. 

6.  Wandering  thoughts. 

(2659.)  Wandering  tlioughts  in  hearing  rise  out 
of  the  heart.  These  sparks  come  out  of  our  own 
furnace.  Vain  tluiughts  are  the  mud  which  the 
heart,  as  a  troubled  sea,  casts  up.  "  For,  from 
within,  out  of  the  heart  of  men,  proceed  evil 
thoughts."  — iVatsori.,  1696. 

7.  Profitless  hearing'  Injurious. 

(2660. )  As  meat,  the  more  a  man  receiveth,  the 
more  it  distempereth,  if  it  be  not  digested  ;  so  the 
more  a  man  learneth,  and  the  more  he  heareth,  the 
greater  is  his  sin  if  he  grow  not  by  it. 

—  Cuiuiiray,  1609. 

8.  Should  be  follo"wed  by  meditation. 

(2661.)  Bare  hearing  begets  but  transient  thoughts, 
and  leaves  but  a  weak  impression  on  the  soul  ;  like 
a  flash  of  lightning,  as  soon  gone  as  come  ;  or  the 
glance  of  a  sunbeam  upon  a  wave.  A  man  never 
discerns  the  scope,  the  beauty,  the  order  of  the 
truths  delivered,  till  he  comes  to  meditate  on  them, 
and  to  go  over  them  again  and  again  in  his 
thoughts.  — Maiiton,  1620-1667. 

(2662.)  Meditate  often  of  it.  "Mary  kept  all 
these  things  ;  "  how  did  she  keep  them  ?  She  "  pon- 
dered them  in  her  heart."  ^Iusing  makes  the  fire 
to  burn,  and  deep  and  constant  thoughts  are  o|Tera- 
tive,  not  a  glance  or  a  slight  view.  The  hen  which 
straggles  from  her  nest  when  she  sits  abrooding 
produces  nothing  ;  it  is  a  constant  incubation  which 
hatches  tlie  young.  So  when  we  have  only  a  few 
straggling  thoughts,  and  do  not  set  abrooding  upon 
a  truth,  when  we  have  flashes  only,  like  a  little 
glance  of  a  sunbeam  upon  a  wall,  it  does  nothing; 
but  serious  and  inculcative  thoughts  (through  the 
Lord's  blessing)  will  do  the  work. 

— Manton,  1620- 1667. 

(2663.)  When  you  have  heard  the  word,  remem- 
ber what  you  hear,  and  aj^ply  it  to  yourselves  by 
serious  inculcative  thoughts.  So  when  you  read  the 
word,  do  not  only  understand  it,  but  think  of  it 
again  and  again.  "Set  your  hearts  to  all  the 
words  which  I  testify  among  you  this  day,  '  says 
Moses  to  the  Israelites.  So  Christ  says,  "  Let  these 
sayings  sink  duwn  into  your  ears."  Truths  never  go 
to  the  quick  of  the  affections  but  by  their  serious 
and  ponileroiis  tlioughts.  You  will  not  lift  up  youi 
hands  till  the  truth  sink  into  the  heart.  You  read 
chapters,  hear  sermon  after  sermon  ;  they  do  not 
stir  you,  or  it  is  but  a  little,  for  a  fit,  like  a  man 


HEARING. 


(    45S    ) 


HEART.     THE 


that  has  been  a  little  warming  himself  by  the  fire, 
and  goes  away,  and  is  colder  than  he  was  before.  O 
Christian,  this  means  is  not  to  be  neglected,  no 
more  than  reading  and  hearing,  because  of  its  great 
use,  both  for  first  conversion  and  for  continual 
quickening.  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

(2664.)  Meditation  to  the  sermon  is  what  the  har- 
row is  to  the  seed,  it  covers  those  truths  which  else 
might  have  been  picked  or  washed  away.  I  am 
afraid  there  are  many  proofs  turned  down  at  a 
sermon  that  are  hardly  turned  up,  and  looked  on 
any  more  when  the  sermon  is  done  ;  and  if  so,  you 
make  others  believe  you  are  greater  traders  for  your 
soul  than  you  are  indeed  ;  as  if  one  should  come  to 
a  shop  and  lay  by  a  great  deal  of  rich  ware,  and 
when  he  hath  done,  goes  away  and  never  calls  for 
it.  — Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(2665.)  Press  the  word  much  upon  your  hearts 
after  hearing.  How  great  is  the  neglect  of  this 
application  of  the  word  of  truth  !  Men  will  spend 
hours  in  hearing  and  not. one  minute  in  serious  re- 
flections ;  as  if  the  word  in  their  ears,  or  a  receipt 
in  their  pockets,  could  cure  the  disease  in  the  heart. 
This  v.  the  worm  at  the  root  of  all  our  spiritual  ad- 
vantages. What  is  only  dashed  upon  the  fancy  or 
lightly  co'oured,  may  be  soon  washed  off.  The 
soil  must  be  made  tenacious  of  the  seed  by  the 
harrow  of  meditation,  which  hides  it  in  the  heart 
and  covers  it  with  earth  ;  for  want  of  being  laid 
deep,  and  banded  by  serious  meditation,  the  seed 
takes  no  root,  because  there  is  not  much  earth  about 
it  (Maik  iv.  5,  6,  16).  How  can  food  nourish 
your  body,  unless  it  be  concocted  by  natural  heat  ? 
or  spiritual  food  enliven  you,  unless  concocted  by 
meditation?  — Charnock,  162S-16S0. 

9.  How  the  Impressions  produced  by  it  are  to 
be  retained. 

(2666. )  The  only  cause  v/hy  you  forget  so  fast  as 
you  hear,  and  of  all  the  sermons  which  you  have 
heard,  have  scarce  the  substance  of  one  in  your 
hearts  to  comfort  or  counsel  you  when  you  have 
need,  is  because  you  went  from  sermon  to  dinner, 
and  never  thought  any  more  of  the  matter ;  as 
though  it  were  enough  to  hear  ;  like  sieves,  which 
hold  water  no  longer  than  they  are  in  a  river. 
What  a  shame  is  this,  to  remember  every  clause  in 
your  lease,  and  every  point  in  your  father's  will ; 
nay,  to  remember  an  old  tale  as  long  as  you  live, 
though  it  be  long  since  you  heard  it,  and  the 
lessons  which  you  hear  now  will  be  gone  within 
this  hour,  tJiat  you  may  ask.  What  hath  stolen  my 
sermon  from  me?  — Hettiy  Smilh,  1593. 

(2667.)  As  market-folk  returning  from  the 
market,  will  be  talking  of  their  markets  as  they  go 
by  the  way,  and  be  casting  up  of  their  pennyworths 
when  they  come  home,  reckon  what  they  have 
taken  and  what  they  have  laid  out,  and  how  much 
they  have  gotten  ;  so  should  we,  after  we  have  heard 
the  word  publicly,  confer  privately  of  it  with  others, 
at  least  meditate  on  it  by  ourselves,  and  be  sure  to 
take  an  account  of  ourselves,  ht>w  we  have  profited 
that  day  by  the  word  that  hath  been  sjioken  to  us, 
and  also  by  other  religious  exercises  that  have  been 
used  of  us.  And  as  the  marketnian  counleth  that 
but  an  ill  market-day  that  he  hath  not  gained  some- 
what more  or  less,  so  may  we  well  account  it  an  ill 
Sabbath  day  to  us  wherein  we  have  not  profited 
somewhat,   wherein   we    have   not    increased    our 


knowledge  or  been  bettered  in  our  affection,  where- 
in we  have  not  been  either  informed  in  judgment 
or  reformed  in  practice,  wherein  we  have  added 
nothing  to  our  talent.  — Gataker,  1574-1654. 

(2668.)  If  ever  you  should  be  converted,  use  to 
consider  frequently  and  seriously  of  those  truths  of 
God  that  must  do  the  work.  The  word  of  God  is 
pure  and  powerful  to  convert  the  soul,  but  can  you 
look  it  should  convert  you,  if  you  will  not  so  much 
as  soberly  look  upon  it?  How  can  that  work  upon 
your  hearts  which  is  out  of  your  mind>?  It  is  you 
that  must  join  with  us  for  your  own  conversion,  and 
do  the  rest  of  the  work,  when  you  come  home  ; 
and  not  think  that  a  sermon  can  do  it ;  when  you 
forget  it  and  never  mind  it  more.  If  you  seek  to 
the  ablest  physician  for  your  body,  he  can  but  give 
you  physic  ;  it  is  you  that  must  take  it  and  keep  it, 
and  observe  directions  till  it  work.  If  you  will 
presently  cast  it  up  again,  how  can  it  do  you  good  ? 
We  tell  you  of  those  truths  that  are  most  useful  to 
your  conversion,  and  if  you  will  take  them  home, 
and  keep  them  and  ponder  of  them  when  you  are 
alone  till  they  sink  into  your  hearts,  you  may  be 
happy  men  ;  but  if  you  will  cast  them  all  up  a^^ain, 
and  will  not  be  persuaded  to  bestow  now  and  then 
a  few  of  your  deepest  serious  thoughts  for  the 
further  entertainment  of  them,  how  should  they  do 
you  saving  good?  If  I  could  prevail  with  tliis 
congregation  to  be  but  considerate,  and  now  and 
then  to  bestow  some  time  to  get  the  truth  to  their 
hearts,  I  should  have  great  hopes  of  the  conversion 
of  you  all  ;  for  light  is  stronger  than  darkness  :  if 
you  would  but  open  the  window  by  consideration, 
and  let  it  in,  you  should  find  the  darkness  presently 
dispelled,  and  it  would  be  day  with  you  that  have 
sat  in  the  shadow  of  death.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 


HEART,  THE. 

1.  Is  naturally  corrupt. 

(2669.)  Because  we  see  not  this  corruption  work 
out  in  the  strength  of  it,  therefore  we  can  hardly  be 
persuaded  of  it ;  but  all  poisoned  bodies  die  not 
presently.  As  wood-worms  eat  the  heart  of  a 
board,  when  no  hole  appears  in  the  top,  so  it  is 
with  lust,  all  outwardly  seems  well  when  corrup- 
tion has  taken  deep  hold  of  us.       — Bayne,  1616. 

(2670.)  That  which  ytsop  said  to  his  master, 
when  he  came  into  his  garden  and  saw  so  many 
weeds  in  it,  is  applicable  to  the  heart.  His  master 
asked  him  what  was  the  reason  that  the  weeds 
grew  up  so  fast  and  the  herbs  thrived  not?  He 
answered.  The  ground  is  natural  mother  to  the 
weeds,  but  a  stepmoiher  to  the  herbs.  So  the 
heart  of  man  is  natural  mother  to  sin  and  corrup- 
tion, but  a  stepmother  to  grace  and  goodness  ;  and 
further  than  it  is  watered  from  heaven,  and  followed 
with  a  great  deal  of  care  and  pains,  it  grows  not. 
— Goodwin,  1600- 1679. 

(2671.)  Sometimes,  indeed,  there  appears  a 
scuflle  between  Satan  and  a  carnal  heart  ;  but  it  is 
a  mere  cheat,  like  the  fighting  of  two  fencers  on  a 
stage.  You  would  think  at  first  they  were  in 
earnest  ;  but  observing  how  wary  they  are  where 
they  hit  one  another,  you  may  soon  know  they  do 
not  mean  to  kill  :  and  that  which  puts  all  out  of 
doubt  when  the  guise  is  done,  you  shall  see  them 
making  merry  together  with  what  they  have  got  of 


HEART.     THE 


(    456    ) 


HEART.     THE 


their  spectators,  which  was  all  they  fought  for. 
When  a  carnal  heart  makes  the  greatest  bustle 
against  sin,  by  comjilaining  of  it,  or  praying  against 
it,  follow  him  but  off  the  stage  of  duty  (where  he 
haii  gained  the  reputation  of  a  saint,  the  prize  he 
fights  for),  and  you  shall  see  them  sit  as  friendly  in  a 
corner  as  ever.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2672.)  Actions  are  a  greater  discovery  of  a  prin- 
ciple than  words.  The  testimony  of  works  is  louder 
and  clearer  than  that  of  words,  and  the  frame  of 
men's  hearts  must  be  measured  rather  by  what  they 
do  than  by  what  they  say.  There  may  be  a  mighty 
distance  between  the  tongue  and  tlie  heart,  but  a 
course  of  action  is  as  little  guilty  of  lying  as  interest 
is,  according  to  our  common  saying.  All  outward 
impieties  are  the  branches  of  an  atheism  at  the  root 
of  our  nature,  as  all  pestilential  sores  are  expressions 
of  the  contagion  in  the  blood.  Sin  is  therefore 
frequently  called  ungodliness  in  our  English  dialect. 
Men's  practices  are  the  best  indexes  of  their  prin- 
ciples. The  curren"  of  a  man's  life  is  the  counter- 
part of  the  frame  of  his  heart  ;  who  can  deny  an 
error  in  the  spring  or  wheels  when  he  perceives  an 
error  in  the  hand  of  the  dial?  Who  can  deny 
atheism  in  the  heart  when  so  much  is  visible  in 
the  life?  The  taste  of  the  water  discovers  what 
nclneral  it  is  strained  through. 

— Chat-nock,  1628-1680. 

(2673.)  Our  corrupted  hearts  are  the  factories  of 
the  devil,  which  mny  be  at  work  witliout  h.is  pre- 
sence ;  for  when  that  circumventing  spirit  has 
drawn  malice,  envy,  and  all  unri^ihteousness  unto 
well-rooted  habits  in  his  disciples,  iniquity  then 
goes  upon  its  own  legs  ;  and  if  the  gates  of  hell  were 
shut  up  for  a  time,  vice  would  still  be  fertile  and 
produce  the  fruits  of  hell.  Thus,  when  God  for- 
sakes us,  Satan  also  leaves  us  :  for  such  offenders 
he  looks  u]ion  as  sure  and  sealed  up,  and  his 
temptations  then  needless  unto  tliem. 

— Str  Thomas  Brorjune,  1605-1682. 

(2674.)  The  heart  is  deceitful,  and  who  can  know 
it?  but  as  we  need  not  taste  all  the  water  of  the 
sea,  or  every  drop  thereof,  to  know  that  it  is  salt  and 
brackish  ;  nor  taste  every  apple  of  the  tree,  to  know 
the  tree  :  so,  the  tasting  of  some  evils  of  our  heart 
may  make  us  know  what  we  are ;  so  as  to  make  us 
flee  out  of  ourselves  to  Christ. 

— Erskine,  1 685-1752. 

(2675.)  I*  ^s  a  mere  fallacy  to  talk  of  the  sins  of  a 
short  life.  The  sinner  is  always  a  sinner.  Put  a 
pump  into  a  river,  you  may  throw  out  some  water, 
but  the  river  remains.  Newton,  1725-1807. 

(2676.)  Here  is  a  piece  of  iron  laid  upon  the 
anvil.  The  hammers  are  plied  upon  it  lustily.  A 
thousand  sparks  are  scattered  on  every  side.  Sup- 
pose it  possible  to  count  each  spark  as  it  falls  from 
the  anvil  ;  yet  who  could  guess  the  number  of  the 
unborn  sparks  that  still  lie  latent  and  hidden  in  the 
mass  of  iron  ?  Now,  brethren,  your  sinful  nature 
may  be  compared  to  that  heated  bar  of  iron. 
Temptations  are  the  hammers  ;  your  sins  are  the 
sparks.  If  you  could  count  them  (which  you  cannot 
do),  yet  who  could  tell  the  multitude  of  unborn  ini- 
quities—eggs of  sin  that  lie  slumbering  in  your 
souls  ?  You  must  know  this  before  you  know  the 
sinfulness  of  your  nature.  Our  open  sins  are  like 
tiie  farmer's  little  sample  which  he  brings  to  market. 


There  are  granaries  full  at  home.  The  iniquiti** 
that  we  see  are  like  the  weeds  upon  the  surface  soil ; 
but  I  have  been  told,  and  indeed  have  seen  the 
truth  of  it,  that  if  you  dig  six  feet  into  the  earth 
and  turn  up  fresh  soil,  there  will  be  found  in  that  soil 
six  feet  deep  the  seeds  of  the  weeds  indigenous  to 
the  land.  And  so  we  are  not  to  think  merely  of 
the  sins  that  grow  on  the  surface,  but  if  we  could 
turn  our  heart  up  to  its  core  and  centre,  we  should 
find  it  is  fully  permeated  with  sin  as  every  piece  of 
putridity  is  with  worms  and  rottenness. 

— SpurgeoH. 

2.  The  carnal  mind  Is  enmity  against  God. 

(2677.)  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against 
God.  For  was  there  ever  a  man  who  underwent  a 
saving  change  that  did  not  feel  when  he  was  con- 
verted that  he  was  conquered,  when  he  is  sanctified 
that  he  is  subdued?  This  enmity  does  not  lie,  as 
some  fancy,  in  bad  habits,  education,  or  other  such 
accidental  and  extraneous  circumstances.  It  has  its 
source  in  the  mind  itself.  Regarded  as  a  disea-e, 
it  is  not  like  a  cold  whicli  any  one  may  take,  but  a 
consumption  which  is  constitutional  and  hereditary  : 
and  what  are  all  these  sins  and  crimes  which  the 
apostle  describes  as  works  of  the  flesh,  but,  like  the 
flushed  cheek,  and  languid  eye,  and  throbbing 
temples,  and  bounding  pulse  of  fever,  the  symptoms 
of  an  enmity  that  lies  lurking  in  every  heart  ?  The 
temptations  and  circumstances  that  call  out  the 
enmity  in  so  many  different  ways,  and  to  so  many 
diiTei  ent  degrees,  no  more  create  it  than  the  showers 
and  sunshine  create  the  deadly  hemlock  which  has 
its  seed  in  the  soil. 

Noi  is  this  all  the  truth.  Consumption,  fell  and 
deadly  as  it  is,  usually  threatens  and  attacks  but  one 
organ.  The  constitution  may  be  otherwise  hale 
and  sound.  The  best  things,  it  may  indeed  be  said, 
have  their  defects — there  are  spots  in  the  sun,  for 
instance  ;  there  is  more  or  less  of  alloy  in  all  gold ; 
and  weeds  spring  up  to  deform  the  fairest  gardens. 
But,  as  is  proved,  whenever  circumstances  occur  to 
call  it  out,  this  enmity  affects  the  whole  man  ;  so 
that  he  is  as  much  under  its  influence  as  every 
sail,  yard,  mast,  and  timber  of  a  ship,  are  under  the 
government  of  her  helm.  True,  that  docs  not 
always  appear  ;  but  no  more  does  the  fire  that 
sleeps  in  the  cold  flint,  until  there  be  a  collision 
with  steel ;  ali,  see  how  it  flashes  out  then — fire  in 
every  chip  of  the  flint,  in  the  whole  texture  and 
fabric  of  the  stone.  The  carnal  mind,  according  to 
Paul,  not  only  has,  but  is,  enmity  against  God. 
Enmity  is  of  its  very  nature,  as  it  is  of  the  nature 
of  grass  to  be  green,  or  sugar  to  be  sweet,  or  vinegar 
to  be  sour,  if  it  were  not  so,  man  would  not  need 
to  be  born  again,  to  get  a  new  heart  ;  like  a  vvivtch 
that  had  but  started  a  jewel,  or  lost  the  tooth  of  a 
wheel,  it  were  enough  to  be  repaired  without  being 
renewed.  — Guthrie. 

(2678.)  What  a  plain  and  affecting  proof  of  this 
have  we  in  that  history  of  our  blessed  Lord,  which 
is  not  more  a  beautiful  exhibition  of  love  on  God's 
pan,  than  a  hateful  one  of  hatred  on  man's.  Here 
is  the  thing  so  put  to  the  proof  that  there  is  no 
occasion  for  speculation,  nor  any  room  for  dispute. 
Here  is  God  incarnate  ;  here  is  God  in  Christ ; 
in  the  most  favourable  of  all  circumstances  for 
man — God  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto 
Himself,  coming  not  to  condemn  the  world,  but 
that   the    world   by  Him    might   be    saved.     And 


HEART.      THE 


(    457    ) 


HEART.     THE 


did  He  find  in  men  friends  or  foes  ?  I  once  saw 
the  poor,  pale,  cold  corpse  of  a  beautiful  little 
girl  taken  out  of  the  roaring  flood  in  which  her 
father — he  was  a  drunkard — when  drowning  him- 
self, drowned  her  ;  monster,  and  slave  of  vice,  he 
was  seen  to  raise  his  hand  in  the  black  swirling 
pool,  and  lay  it  on  her  youn;;  head,  pressing  it  down 
till  he  and  she  both  sank  together.  But  fancy  a 
drowning  man  raising  himself  before  he  sank,  and 
putting  forth  his  dying  strength  to  wound  a  hand 
stretched  out  to  save  him — to  plunge  a  knife  into 
the  heart  of  a  kind  man  who  had  perilled  his  own 
life  to  save  his.  What  hatred  were  that,  which 
could  prompt  to  so  black  a  deed  1  Yet,  when  they 
dragged  Him  to  the  rock  of  Nazareth  to  cast  Him 
over,  wiien  the  kiss  of  Judas  was  on  His  cheek, 
when  the  C17  of  "  Crucify  Him"  was  in  His  ear,  when 
the  thorns  pierced  His  brows,  and  the  iron  nailed 
Him  to  the  cross,  did  not  God  in  Christ  feel  that 
He  had  come  n.ot  to  save  Ills  friends,  but  to  save 
His  enemies  ?  I  would  hold  any  man  my  enemy 
that  would  kill  my  son  ;  and  if  men  by  nature  were 
not  God's  enemies,  why  did  they  kill  His  Son  ? 
why  do  they  still  reject  Him  ?  The  letters  did  not 
burn  so  bright  on  the  plaster  of  Belshazzar's  wall, 
nor  does  the  sun  shine  IJrighter  in  the  heavens,  than 
these  words  on  the  cross — he  that  runneth  may  read 
them — "  Herein  is  love,  indeed,  not  that  we  loved 
God,  but  that  He  loved  us,  and  sent  His  Son  to  be 
the  propitiation  for  our  sins."  — Guthrie. 

(2679.)  Men  say,  "  It  is  impossible  that  I  should 
have  an  emotion  of  hatred  towards  God,  and  never 
know  it.  Do  you  suppose  1  should  not  know  fire 
if  it  touched  me?  Do  you  suppose  that  if  a  man 
were  to  put  caustic  on  me  I  should  not  know  it  ? 
And  do  you  suppose  I  could  have  a  feeling  of 
hatred  towards  God  and  never  be  conscious  of  it?" 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  latent  hatred,  that  must  be 
inflamed  before  it  will  manifest  itself.  Men  say, 
"Do  you  suppose  I  could  carry  fire  in  my  bosom 
and  not  know  it?  I  have  felt  myself  a  hundred 
times,  and  I  am  not  hot."  But  there  may  be  fire 
raked  up  as  well  as  fire  in  full  glow.  There  may 
be  a  susceptibility  of  heart  that  stands  prepared, 
like  powder  in  magazines,  to  be  ignited.  A  man 
may  be  like  a  military  fortification,  with  implements 
of  war  of  every  kind,  ready  to  be  brought  into  requi- 
sition the  moment  the  signal  gun  is  fired.  But  it  is 
a  military  fortification,  though  the  signal  gun  may 
never  have  been  fired,  and  though  not  one  of  these 
implements  have  ever  been  brought  into  requisition. 
It  is  a  military  fortification,  though  a  particle  of 
powder  may  never  have  been  exploded  in  it.  It 
was  built  for  war  from  foundation  to  turret,  and  all 
the  implements  it  contains  were  made  for  war,  and 
they  are  in  readiness  to  be  applied  to  the  purposes 
of  war  when  the  proper  time  shall  come. 

Now  look  at  the  soul — castellated,  fortified,  pro- 
visioned, armed.  Though  the  day  may  not  have 
come  when  its  mighty  implements  have  been  used, 
yet  thej"  are  ready  to  be  used  at  any  moment  when 
the  proper  circumstances  arise.  A  man  may  have 
qualities  of  mind  which  do  not  manifest  themselves 
in  his  life,  because  the  circumstances  necessary  to 
bring  them  into  action  do  not  exist. 

It  is  charged,  not  that  every  man  has  come  to  a 
flagrant  outbreak  in  opposition  to  the  Divine  Being, 
but  that  every  man  has  elements  that  are  opposed  to 
the  Divine  Being,  which,  the  moment  he  is  brought 
to  1  realisation  f/ God's  authority,  will  develop  their 


real  character.  You  are  not  obliged,  in  order  to 
be  at  enmity  with  God,  to  say  to  Him  in  so  maiiy 
words,  "  I  will  not  have  Tiiee  to  reign  over  me." 
Whether  spoken  or  not,  that  is  the  natural  language 
of  the  unconverted  human  heart.  — Beecher. 

3.  Tlie  difQculty  of  knowing  It. 

(25So.)  The  heart  is  deep,  and,  like  Ezekiel's 
vision,  presents  so  many  chambers  of  imagery,  one 
within  another,  that  it  requires  time  to  get  a  con- 
siderable acquaintance  with  it,  and  we  shall  never 
know  it  thoroughly.  It  is  now  more  than  twenty- 
eight  years  since  the  Lord  began  to  open  mine  to 
my  own  view  ;  and  from  that  time  to  this  almost 
every  day  has  discovered  to  me  something  which 
till  then  was  unobserved  ;  and  the  farther  I  go,  the 
more  1  seem  convinced  that  I  have  entered  but  a 
little  way.  A  person  that  travels  in  some  parts  of 
Derbyshire  may  easily  be  satisfied  that  the  country 
is  cavernous  ;  but  how  large,  how  deep,  how 
numerous  the  caverns  may  be,  which  are  hidden 
from  us  by  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  what  is 
contained  in  them,  are  questions  wiiich  our  nicest 
inquiries  cannot  fully  answer.  Thus  1  judge  of  my 
heart,  that  It  is  very  deep  and  dark,  and  full  of  evil ; 
but  as  to  particulars,  I  know  not  one  of  a  thousand. 
— Newton,  1725-1S07. 

4.  It  is  known  to  God. 

(2681.)  He  who  makes  a  watch  or  engine,  knows 
all  the  workmanship  in  it.  God,  that  made  the 
heart,  knows  all  the  motions  and  fallacies  of  it. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2682. )  God  sees  hearts  as  we  see  faces. 

—  George  Herbert. 

(2683.)  Before  men  we  stand  as  opaque  bee-hives. 
They  can  see  the  thoughts  go  in  and  out  of  us,  but 
what  work  they  do  inside  of  a  man  they  cannot 
tell.  Before  God  we  are  z.%  glass  bee-hives,  and  all 
that  our  thoughts  are  doing  within  us  He  perfectly 
sees  and  understands.  — Beecher. 

5.  It  is  tested  by  temptation. 

(2684.)  The  force  of  gunpowder  is  not  known 
until  some  spark  light  on  it  ;  and  oftentimes  the 
stillest  natures,  if  crossed,  discover  the  deej  est  cor- 
ruptions. — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(2685.)  As  dust  settles,  and  lies  as  quietly  as  if 
it  had  no  existence,  but  is  stirred  and  raised  by  the 
slightest  breath  of  wind,  so  it  sometimes  seems  as 
if  sin  no  longer  dwelt  within  us,  but  was  vanquished 
and  annihilated,  and  we  freed  from  all  restraint  to 
serve  God  in  a  pure  and  blameless  life  ;  and  yet  no 
sooner  does  opportunity  occur,  than  sin  makes  its 
appearance,  and  we  discover  that  we  have  much 
more  of  the  world  in  our  hearts  than  we  had  ever 
supposed.  — Scriver,  1629-1693. 

(2686.)  In  a  vessel  filled  with  muddy  water,  the 
thickness  visibly  subsides  to  the  bottom,  and  leaves 
the  water  purer  and  clearer,  until  at  last  it  seems 
perfectly  limpid.  The  slightest  motion,  however, 
brings  the  sediment  again  to  the  top,  and  makes  the 
water  thick  and  turbid  as  before.  Here  we  have 
an  emblem  of  the  human  heart.  The  heart  is  full 
of  the  mud  of  sinful  lusts  and  carnal  desires  ;  and 
the  consequence  is,  that  no  pure  water — that  is, 
good  and  holy  thoughts — can  flow  from  it.  It  is,  in 
truth,  a  miry  pit  and  slough  of  sin,  in  which  all 
sorts  of  ugly  reptiles  are  bred  and  crawl.     Many  a 


HEART.     THE 


(    458    ) 


HEART.     THE 


one,  however,  is  deceived  by  it,  and  never  imagines 
his  heart  half  so  wicked  as  it  really  is,  because  at 
times  its  lusts  are  at  rest,  and  sink,  as  it  were,  to 
the  bottom.  On  such  occasions  his  thoughts  appear 
to  be  holy  and  devout,  his  desires  pure  and  tempe- 
rate, his  words  charitable  and  edifying,  and  his 
works  useful  and  Christiun.  But  this  lasts  only  so 
long  as  he  is  not  moved  ;  I  mean  so  long  as  he  is 
wiihout  opportunity  or  incitement  to  sin.  Let  that 
occur,  and  worldly  lusts  rise  so  thick  that  his 
whole  thoughts,  words,  and  works  sl.ow  no  trace 
of  anything  but  slime  and  impurity.  This  man  is 
meek  as  long  as  he  is  not  thwarted  ;  but  cross  him, 
and  he  is  like  powder,  ignited  by  the  smallest  spark, 
and  blazing  up  with  a  loud  report  and  destructive 
force.  Another  is  temperate  so  long  as  he  has  no 
social  comjianions  ;  a  third  chaste  while  the  eyes  of 
men  are  upon  him.  — Scriver,  1629-1693. 

(2687.)  Temptation  is  the  fire  that  brings  up  the 
scum  of  the  heart.  The  corrupt  heart  resembles 
an  ant's  nest,  on  which,  while  the  stone  lies,  none 
of  them  appear.  But  lake  off  that,  and  stir  them 
with  only  the  point  of  a  straw,  what  a  swarm  is 
tliere,  and  how  lively  they  are  !  Just  such  a  sight, 
O  man,  would  thy  heart  afford  thee,  did  the  Lord 
but  withdraw  the  restraint  1  le  has  laid  upon  it,  and 
suffer  Satan  to  stir  it  up  by  temptation. 

— Boston,  1676-1732, 

6.  Its  suitors. 

(2688.)  Man,  as  soon  as  he  was  made,  had  two 
great  suitors  for  his  life  and  soul  :  Virtue,  Vice. 
They  both  travelled  the  world  with  trains,  har- 
bingers, and  large  attendance. 

Virtue  had  before  her  Truth  running  naked, 
valiant,  but  inelegant  ;  then  Labour,  Cokl,  Hunger, 
Thirst,  Care,  Vigilance,  and  these  but  poorly 
arrayed,  and  she  in  plain  though  clean  attire.  But 
looking  near,  she  was  of  such  a  self-perfection,  that 
she  might  very  well  emblem  whatsoever  Omni- 
potency  could  make  most  rare.  Modest  she  was ; 
and  so  lovely  that  whosoever  looked  but  steadfastly 
upon  her  could  not  but  insoul  himself  in  her.  After 
her  followed  Content,  full  of  jewels,  coin,  per- 
fumes, and  all  the  massy  riches  of  the  world.  Then 
Joy.  with  maskers,  mirth,  revelling,  and  all  essential 
pleasures.  Next  Honour,  with  all  the  ancient  orders 
of  nobility,  sceptres,  thrones,  and  crowns  imperial. 
Lastly,  Glory,  shaking  such  a  brightness  from  her 
many  tresses,  that,  I  have  heard,  no  man  could  ever 
come  so  near  as  to  describe  her  truly.  And  behind 
all  these  came  Eternity,  casting  a  ring  about  them, 
which,  like  a  strong  enchantment,  made  them  for 
ever  the  same.     Thus  Virtue. 

Vice  thus  :  Before  her,  first  went  Lying,  a  smooth 
painted  housewife,  clad  in  all  in  changeable,  but, 
under  her  garments,  lull  of  scabs  and  ugly  ulcers  ; 
she  spoke  pleasingly,  a.id  promised  whatsoever 
could  be  wished  for,  in  behalf  of  her  mistress.  Vice. 
Upon  her  Wit  waited,  a  conceited  fellow,  and  one 
that  much  took  man  with  his  pretty  tricks  and 
gambols.  Next,  Sloth  and  Luxury,  so  full  that 
they  were  after  clinked  with  their  own  fat.  Then 
(l)ecause  she  could  not  have  the  true  ones,  for  they 
follow  Virtue)  she  gets  impostors  to  personate  Con- 
tent, Joy,  Honour,  in  all  their  wealth  and  royalties. 
After  these  she  comes  herself,  sumptuously  ap- 
parelled, but  a  nasty  surfeited  slut  ;  whereby,  if  any 
kissed  her,  they  were  sure  by  her  breath  to  perish. 
After  her,  followed  on  a  sudden,  like  enemies  in 
ambush,  Guilt,  Horror,  Shame,  Locs,  Vv ant,  Sorrow, 


Torment ;  these  charmed   with    Eternity's   ring  &l 
the  other. 

And  thus  they  wooed  fond  man. 

— Felltham,  1668, 

7.  The  determining  power  of  tlie  life. 

(2689.)  As  the  sun  rises  first,  and  then  the  beasts 
arise  from  their  dens,  the  fowls  from  their  nests, 
and  men  from  their  beds  ;  so  when  the  heart  sets 
forward  to  God,  all  the  members  will  follow  alter 
it — the  tongue  will  praise  Him,  the  foot  will  follow 
Him,  the  ear  will  attend  Him,  the  eye  will  watch 
Him,  the  hand  will  serve  Hiin,  nothing  will  stay 
after  the  heart,  but  every  one  goes  like  handmaids 
after  their  mistress. 

Therefore  Solomon,  picking  out  the  heart  for 
God  (I'rov.  xxiii.  26),  spake  as  ihotigh  he  would  set 
out  the  pleasantest,  and  fairest,  and  easiest  way  to 
serve  Him,  without  any  grudging,  or  toil,  or  weari- 
ness. Touch  but  the  first  link,  and  all  the  rest 
will  follow.  So  set  the  heart  agoing,  and  it  is  like 
the  poise  of  a  clock,  which  turns  all  the  wheels  one 
way.  Such  an  oil  is  upon  the  heart  which  makes 
all  niinble  and  current  about  it.  Therefore  it  is 
almost  as  easy  to  speak  well  and  do  well,  a';  to 
think  well.  If  the  heart  indite  a  good  matter,  no 
marvel  though  the  tongue  be  the  pen  of  a  ready 
writer.  But  if  the  heart  be  dull,  all  is  like  a  left 
hand  so  inapt  and  untoward  that  it  cannot  turn 
itself  to  any  good.  — Ilmry  S7nich,  1593. 

(2690.)  When  the  citadel  of  the  heart  is  won,  the 
turret  of  the  understanding  will  not  long  hold  out, 

— Adams,  1653. 

(2691.)  When  men  grow  once  regardless  of  their 
consciences,  good  affections  will  soon  languish, 
and  then  will  noisome  lusts  gather  strength,  and 
cast  up  mud  into  the  soul,  that  the  judgment  can- 
not run  clear.  Seldom  is  the  head  right  when  the 
heart  is  amiss.  A  rotten  heart  will  be  ever  and 
anon  sending  up  evil  thoughts  into  the  mind,  as 
marshy  and  fenny  grounds  do  foggy  mists  into  the 
air,  that  both  darken  and  corrupt  it.  As  a  man's 
taste,  when  some  malignant  humour  aft'ects  the 
organ,  savoureth  nothing  aright,  but  deems  sweet 
tilings  bitter  and  sour  things  pleasant,  so  where 
any  domineering  lust  has  made  itself  master  of  the 
heart,  it  will  so  blind  and  corrupt  the  judgment, 
that  it  shall  not  be  able  to  discern  (at  any  certainty) 
good  from  evil,  or  truth  from  falsehood. 

— Sanderson,  1587-1662. 

(2692.)  The  bowl  runs  as  the  bias  inclines  it ;  the 
ship  moves  as  the  rudder  steers  it  ;  and  the  mind 
thinks  according  to  the  predominancy  of  vice  or 
virtue  in  it. 

The  heart  of  man  is  like  the  spring  of  the  clock, 
which  causes  the  wheL-ls  to  move  right  or  wrong, 
well  or  dl.  If  the  heart  once  set  forward  for  God, 
all  the  members  will  follow  after;  all  the  parts,  like 
dutiful  handmaids,  in  their  places,  will  wait  on  their 
mistress. 

The  heart  is  the  great  workhouse  where  all  sin  is 
wrought  before  it  is  exposed  to  open  view.  It  is  the 
mint  where  evil  thoughts  are  coined,  before  they 
are  current  in  our  words  or  actions.  It  is  the  forge 
where  all  our  evil  works  as  well  as  words  are  ham- 
mered out.  There  is  no  sin  but  is  dressed  in  the 
withdrawing  room  of  the  heart,  before  it  appears 
on  the  stage  of  life. 

It  is  ^ain  to  go  about  an  holy  life,  till  the  heaxt 


HEART.     THE 


(    459    ) 


HEART.     THE 


be  made  hoiy.  The  puise  of  the  hand  beats  well 
01  ill,  according  to  the  state  of  the  heart.  If  the 
«"hinks  of  the  ship  are  unstopped,  it  will  be  to  no 
purpose  to  labour  at  the  pump.  Wlien  the  water 
is  foul  at  the  bottom,  no  wonder  that  scum  and  filth 
appear  at  the  top.  There  is  no  way  to  stop  the  issue 
of  sin,  but  bv  drying  up  the  matter  tliat  feeds  it. 
— Sxuinnock,  1673. 

(2693.)  If  we  desire  a  true  reformation,  let  us 
begin  on  reforming  our  hearts  and  lives,  in  keeping 
Christ's  commandments.  All  outward  forms  and 
models  of  reformation,  though  they  be  never  so 
good  in  their  kind,  yet  they  are  of  little  worth  to  us 
without  this  inward  reformation  of  the  heart.  Tin, 
or  lead,  or  any  baser  metal,  if  it  be  cast  into  never 
so  good  a  mould  and  made  up  into  never  so  elegant 
a  figure,  yet  it  is  but  tin  or  lead  still  ;  it  is  the  same 
metal  that  it  was  before.  If  adulterate  silver,  that 
has  much  alloy  or  dross  in  it,  have  never  so  current 
a  stamp  put  upon  it,  yet  it  will  not  pass  when  the 
touchstone  tries  it.  We  must  be  reformed  within, 
with  a  spirit  of  fire  and  a  spirit  of  burning,  to 
purge  us  from  the  dross  and  corruption  of  our 
hearts,  and  refine  us  as  gold  and  silver,  and  then 
we  shall  be  reformed  truly,  and  not  before. 

— Cud-Morth,  161 7-1688. 

8.  Its  strengtb  for  evil. 

(2694.)  This  weak  heart  is  strong  in  passions, 
violent  in  desires,  irresistible  in  its  appetites,  im- 
patient in  its  lusts,  furious  in  anger  :  here  are 
strengths  enough,  one  should  think.  But  so  have 
I  seen  a  man  in  a  fever,  sick  and  distempered, 
unable  to  walk,  less  able  to  speak  sense,  or  to  do 
an  act  of  counsel  ;  and  yet,  when  his  fever  had 
boiled  up  to  a  delirium,  he  was  strong  enough  to 
beat  his  nursekeeper  and  his  doctor  too,  and  to 
resist  the  loving  violence  of  all  his  friends,  who 
would  fain  bind  him  down  to  reason  and  his  bed  ; 
and  yet  we  still  say,  he  is  weak,  and  sick  unto  death. 
For  these  strengths  of  madness  are  not  health,  but 
furiousness  and  disease  ;  it  is  weakness  another  way. 
And  so  are  the  strengths  of  a  man's  heart ;  they  are 
fetters  and  manacles;  stmng,  but  they  are  the  cord- 
age of  imprisonment ;  so  strong,  that  the  heart  is  not 
alile  to  stir.  — Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

9.  Must  be  kept  with  all  diligence. 

(2695  )  Our  heart  is  like  a  mill,  ever  grinding, 
which  a  certain  lord  gave  in  charge  to  his  servant, 
enjoining  that  he  should  only  grind  in  it  his 
master's  grain,  whether  wheat,  barley,  or  oats,  and 
telling  him  that  he  must  subsist  on  the  produce. 
But  that  servant  has  an  enemy  who  is  always  play- 
ing tricks  on  the  mill.  If  any  moment  he  finds  it 
unwatched,  he  throws  in  gravel  to  keep  the  stones 
from  acting,  or  pitch  to  clog  them,  or  dirt  and  chaff 
to  mix  wiih  the  meal.  If  the  servant  is  careful  in 
tending  his  mill,  there  flows  forth  a  beautiful  flour, 
which  is  at  once  a  service  to  his  master  and  a 
subsistence  to  himself;  but  if  he  plays  the  truant, 
and  allows  his  enemy  to  tamper  with  the  machinery, 
the  bad  outcome  tells  the  tale,  his  lord  is  angry, 
and  he  himself  is  starved. 

This  mill  ever  grinding  is  the  heart  ever  thinking. 
God  has  given  one  to  each  man  to  guard  and  tenii, 
and  bids  him  grind  in  it  only  those  thoughts  which 
He  Himself  supplies.  Some  of  these  thoughts  are 
fine  wheat — meditations  concerning  God  Himself. 
Others  are  like  barley — for  instance,  when  the  soul 


strives  to  ascend  from  one  virtue  to  another.  And 
others  still  are  like  oats — desires,  for  example,  to 
break  off  bad  habits,  which  desires  are  good  ilio\ights, 
although  not  of  the  highest  order.  These  thoughts 
God  would  have  us  keep  continually  revolving  in 
our  minds.  But  the  devil  is  man's  adversary,  and 
if  at  any  moment  he  finds  the  heart  empty  of  good 
thoughts,  he  instantly  throws  in  some  bad  ones. 
Some  of  these  bad  thoughts — such  as  wrath  and  envy 
— dissi]3ate  the  mind;  others — such  as  sensuality  and 
luxury — clog  its  action  ;  and  others — such  as  vain 
imaginations — fill  up  the  place  of  better  tluiughts. 
But  if  a  man  carefully  watch  over  his  heait,  and 
keep  holy  thoughts  revolving  in  it,  then  through  the 
aperture  of  the  mill — the  mouth — come  wholesome 
and  profitable  words,  and  his  very  seeing,  heating, 
smelling,  and  tasting,  take  the  complexion  of  his 
inward  thoughts,  and  become  pure  and  holy  also 
(Matt.  XV.  iS-20;  xii.  34,  35).  By  such  medita- 
tions he  fulfils  the  will  of  God,  and  builds  up  his 
own  everlasting  life.  But  if  he  allows  the  devil  to 
tamper  with  his  heart,  and  corrupt  it,  the  vicious 
proiluce  of  his  evil  thoughts  comes  forth  to  view; 
and  wliilst  the  Most  High  is  exceedingly  displeased, 
the  fruit  to  the  man  himself  is  not  life  but  death. 

— Ansel  in,  1093. 

(2696.)  Like  as  when  our  enemy  invadeth  ns 
we  seek  to  repulse  and  drive  him  back  by  all  means 
possiljle,  lest  he  should  set  footing  in  our  territories 
and  land,  and  nestle  himself  near  us  ;  and  if  he  be 
entered,  we  are  careful  so  to  impeach  and  remove 
him,  that  he  fortify  not  himself:  even  so,  in  like 
manner,  we  must  make  such  bulwarks  about  our 
hearts,  that  anger  may  no  w'ay  enter ;  but  if  it 
happen  that  it  once  entereth,  and  lieth  secretly  in 
the  corners  of  our  breasts,  and  that  it  surprise  and 
set  upon  us  on  the  sudden,  or  maketh  way  by  force, 
we  must  forthwith  devise  all  the  ways  we  can  to 
expel  it  as  soon  as  we  may.         — Cawdray,  1609. 

(2697.)  Our  hearts,  like  the  plummets  of  a  clock, 
draw  us  with  the  weight  of  their  corruption  down- 
ward, till  they  pitch  themselves  and  rest  upon 
earthly  vanities,  unless  every  day,  yea,  many  times  a 
day,  w'e  pull  them  up,  and  give  spiritual  motion  to 
them  by  Christian  exercises. 

— Dcnvname,  1644. 

(2698.)  This  heart  of  ours  is  the  best  or  the  worst 
ground  that  lies  between  heaven  and  earth.  Tlie 
worst,  if  it  be  thorny,  weedy,  miry  ;  but  if  fair, 
pleasant,  fruitful,  it  is  the  best.  There  be  two  that 
lay  claim  to  it  ;  and  f.owsoever  the  property  be 
God's,  for  He  made  it,  yet  Satan  will  try  His  title, 
and  sues  to  have  it. 

First,  let  us  weed  this  ground,  and  that  betimes, 
for  old  weeds  will  hardly  be  destroyed.  Sins  are 
weeds,  the  weeding-hook  is  repentance  :  let  not  a 
weed  appear,  but  presently  by  contrition  cut  it 
down.  God  indeed  said  of  another  fiekl,  and  in 
another  sense,  "  Let  both  grow  together  until  the 
harvest  ; "  but  it  must  not  be  so  here,  lor  then  the 
weeds  will  eat  out  the  corn. 

Secondly,  keep  it  in  heart  ;  for  if  the  soul 
have  not  her  cheerings,  she  will  grow  faint  and 
barren.  The  way  to  keep  thy  heart  in  heart,  is  by 
devout  prayers,  meditation,  hearing  the  word,  and 
receiving  that  which  is  the  food  of  the  soul,  the 
blessed  sacrament. 

Thirdly,  look  to  the  expiration  of  thy  farm,  and 


HEART.     THE 


(    460    ) 


HEART.     THE 


be  sure  to  leave  it  in  good  case ;  that  wlien  the 
great  Landlord  shall  call  the  tenant  out  of  tlie  tene- 
ment, the  soul  from  the  body,  it  may  be  entertained 
into  His  own  house,  the  glorious  court  of  heaven. 

Fourthly  and  lastly,  be  sure  to  pay  thy  rent 
always,  and  that  is  thankfulness. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(2699.)  Keep  a  constant  watch  over  your  hearts. 
David  desires  God  to  "set  a  watch  before  the  doors 
of  his  lips,"  much  more  should  we  desire  that  God 
would  keep  the  door  of  our  hearts.  We  should 
have  grace  stand  there  as  sentinel  especially,  for 
words  liave  an  outward  bridle  :  they  may  disgrace 
a  man  and  impair  liis  interest  and  credit,  but 
thoughts  are  unknown  if  undiscovered  by  words. 
If  a  man  know  what  time  the  thief  would  come  to 
rob  him,  he  would  watch.  We  know  we  have 
thieves  within  us  to  steal  away  our  hearts  ;  there- 
fore, when  they  are  so  near  us,  we  should  watch 
against  a  surprise,  and  the  more  carefully,  because 
they  are  so  extraordinarily  sudden  in  their  rise 
and  quick  in  their  motion.  Our  minds  are  like 
idle  schoolboys  that  will  be  frisking  from  one  place 
to  another  if  the  master's  back  be  turned,  and  play- 
ing instead  of  learning.  Let  a  strict  hand  be  kept 
over  our  affections,  those  wild  beasts  within  us,  be- 
cause they  many  times  force  the  understanding  to 
pass  a  judgment  according  to  their  pleasure,  not  its 
own  sentiment.  — Charnock,  1620-1680. 

(2700.)  He  that  will  keep  water  in  a  sieve,  must 
use  more  than  ordinary  diligence.  Our  heart  is  a 
leaky  vessel  ;  and  therefore  we  ought  to  give  the 
more  earnest  heed  to  the  things  which  we  have 
heard,  lest  at  any  time  we  should  let  them  slip. 
— Btatyan,  162S-1688. 

(2701.)  Gotthold  ordered  a  pasture  in  his  garden 
to  be  dressed  afresh,  and  planted  with  all  vaiieties 
of  bulbs  Tlie  work,  when  finished,  suggested  to 
him  the  followiuL^  reflections.  Although  the  gardener 
has  e.xercised  his  skill  upon  this  plot  of  ground,  and 
given  it  a  form,  which  adds  greatly  to  its  beauty, 
nevertheless  like  other  earth,  it  still  retains  the 
wilderness  of  its  nature,  and  unless  carefully  kept, 
would,  ere  long,  be  overgrown  with  weeds.  It  is 
the  same  with  the  hearts  of  God's  children.  No 
doubt  they  have  experienced  a  blessed  regeneration, 
have  become  other  men,  and  by  the  grace,  word, 
and  Spirit  of  their  heavenly  Fatlier,  have  had  their 
hearts  transformed  and  renewed.  Still  innate  sin- 
fulness continues  lurking  within  them,  and  must 
daily  be  kept  under,  by  repentance  and  prayer, 
Struggles  and  holy  resolutions.  They  who  are 
sincerely  pious,  do  indeed  forsake  sin,  but  sin  does 
not  forsake  them.  — Scriver,  1629-1693. 

(2702.)  A  lute  is  made  of  common  and  soft 
timber,  and  has  not  itself,  but  the  hand  of  the 
workman,  to  thank  for  fashioning  it  into  what  it  is. 
In  like  manner  a  Christian  has  no  distinction  above 
other  men,  save  that  the  hand  of  a  merciful  God 
has  made  him  a  vessel  of  grace.  As  a  lute  requires 
to  be  strung  and  skilfully  tuned  and  touched,  so 
must  the  finger  of  God  furnish  the  heart  with  good 
thoughts,  and  then  adjust  them  to  the  honour  of  ills 
Manie.  However  beautiful  a  lute  may  be,  it  is 
easily  put  out  of  tune,  and  therefore  needs  continual 
care.  And  so  does  our  Christianity.  Disattuned 
by  the  devil,  the  wicked  world,  and  our  own  per- 


verse will,  it  would  sound  harshly,  did  not  tha 
gracious  hand  of  the  Most  High  daily  regulate  and 
correct  it. 

At  tlie  same  time,  let  us  remember  what  duties 
are  ours.  If  we  labour  to  tune  a  lute,  that  its 
sound  may  not  grate  upon  human  ears,  why  do  we 
not  take  equal  pains  to  harmonise  and  regulate  our 
thoughts,  words,  and  works,  that  they  may  not 
offend  the  sharp  eyes  and  cars  of  the  Most  High  I 
We  hear  at  once  if  but  a  single  string  is  out  of  tune  ; 
and  yet  we  often  neither  mark  nor  care  for  the  dis- 
cord between  our  life  and  walk  and  God's  holy  com- 
mandments. Men  instantly  tell  us  of  the  false  note 
in  our  music  ;  and  let  us  also,  my  friend,  admonish 
each  other,  when  we  perceive  a  tlaw  or  discord  in 
our  Christianity. 

Lord  Jesus!  tune,  regulate,  and  mould  my  life, 
to  make  it  consonant  with  Thine.  It  is  true  that 
my  strings  are  weak,  and  cannot  sustain  so  high  a 
pitch  as  Thy  perfection.  I  console  myself,  how- 
ever, with  the  thought,  that  as  in  this  lute  there  are 
higher  and  lower  clefs,  so  among  Christians  there 
are  both  the  strong  and  the  weak  ;  and  Thou  art 
satisfied  with  both,  provided  only  they  are  not  false. 
— Scriver,  1 629- 1693. 

(2703.)  We  must  shut  our  heart  against  pride, 
against  sensuality,  and  all  the  other  passions,  as  one 
shuts  the  doors  and  windows  that  nobody  may  be 
able  to  get  in.  —  Vianney. 

(2704.)  It  is  in  the  motions  of  a  tempted  soul  to 
sin,  as  in  the  motions  of  a  stone  falling  from  the 
brow  of  a  hill  ;  it  is  easily  stopped  at  first,  but  v-lien 
once  it  is  set  a  going,  who  shall  stay  it  ?  And  there- 
fore, it  is  the  greatest  wisdom  in  the  world  to  ob- 
serve the  first  motions  of  the  heart,  to  check  and 
stop  sin  there.  The  motions  of  sin  are  weakest  at 
first  :  a  little  care  and  watchfulness  may  prevent 
much  mischief  now,  which  the  careless  heart,  not 
heeding,  is  presently  brought  within  the  power  of 
temi^tation,  as  the  Syrians  were  brought  blindfold 
into  the  midst  of  Samaria  before  they  knew  where 
they  were.  — Salter,  1840. 

(2705.)  "Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence,  for 
out  of  it  are  the  issues  of  life."  Keep  it  in  the 
daily,  hourly  tempers,  habits,  musings,  and  imagi- 
nations. I  sometimes  think  that  we  Protestants 
are  under  some  heavy  disadvantages  here.  We 
make  so  much  of  sin  in  the  gross,  and  confess  in 
general  terms  so  abjectly,  that  we  pass  over  the 
minor  faults,  defects,  slips  of  temper,  or  conduct, 
which  make  so  much  of  the  present  pain  or  plea- 
sure of  life,  and  are  bu>ily  building  beneath  the 
surface,  like  the  coral  insects,  the  edilice  of  the 
future,  shaping  thereby  the  destinies  of  eternity. 
The  confessional  is  a  mighty  instrument  for  dealing 
with  these  little  sins.  We  have  abolished  it  in  stern 
indignation,  and  justly.  But  we  can  only  afford  to 
dispense  with  it,  when  we  confess  ourselves  more 
humbly  and  examine  ourselves  more  rigidly  before 
God  than  before  the  priest.  Watch  the  little  sins 
narrowly,  and  handle  them  sternly  ;  it  will  spare 
you  trouble  with  the  great  ones.  Meet  the  tempter 
on  the  threshold  and  beat  him  back,  you  will  escape 
a  death  struggle  in  the  very  citadel  of  your  life. 

—J.  B.  Brown. 

10.  Importance  of  keeping-  It  well  employed. 
(2700.)  The  heart    is  like  a  mill :  if  the  wind  oi 
water  be  violent,  the  mill  will  go  whether  the  miller 


HEART.     THE 


K     4.61     ) 


HEA  YEN, 


will  or  not ;  yet  he  may  choose  what  kind  of  grain  it 
shall  f^rind,  wheat  or  darnel.  If  the  affections  be 
strotig  and  passionate,  the  heart  may  be  working  ; 
yet  the  Christian,  by  grace,  may  keep  out  lusts,  and 
supply  it  with  good  thoughts.       — Adams,  1654. 

(2707.)  Man's  heart  is  like  a  millstone  :  pour  in 
corn,  and  round  it  goes,  bruising  and  grinding,  and 
converting  it  into  (loi:r  ;  whereas  give  it  no  corn, 
and  then  indeed  the  stone  goes  round,  but  only 
grinds  itself  away,  and  becomes  ever  thinner  and 
smaller  and  nanower.  Even  so  the  heait  of  man 
requires  to  have  always  something  to  do  ;  and  happy 
is  he  who  continually  occupies  it  with  good  and 
holy  thoughts,  otherwise  it  may  soon  consume  and 
waste  itself  by  useless  anxieties  or  wicked  and 
carnal  suggestions.  When  the  millstones  are  not 
nicely  adjusted,  grain  may  indeed  be  poured  in,  but 
comes  away  only  half  ground  or  not  ground  at  all. 
The  same  often  happens  with  our  heart,  when  our 
devotion  is  not  sufiiciently  earnest.  On  such  occa- 
sions we  read  the  finest  texts  without  knowing 
what  we  have  read,  and  pray  without  hearing  our 
own  prayers.  The  eye  flits  over  the  sacred  page, 
the  mouth  pours  forth  the  words  and  clappers  like 
a  mill,  but  the  heart  meanwhile  turns  from  one 
strange  thought  to  another  ;  and  such  reading  and 
such  prayer  are  more  a  useless  form  than  a  devotion 
acceptable  to  God.  — Saiver,  1629-1693. 

(2708.)  Onr  minds  are  restless,  and  will  be 
employed  either  upon  what  is  good,  or  upon  what 
is  evil.  The  mind  of  man  is  as  a  mill-wheel,  con- 
tinually turning  about,  and  drenching  in  the  waters. 
Our  hearts  are  as  a  stirring  chikl,  that  cannot 
endure  to  sit  still.  No  virgin  has  so  many  suitors 
for  her  love,  as  our  minds  for  their  thoughts.  The 
sun  may  as  soon  be  stopped  from  his  race,  as  the 
heart  from  its  thinking.  We  are  all  in  this  respect 
like  tlie  sea,  which  cannot  rest,  but  is  ever  in 
■lotion.  Is  not  he  a  foolish  miller,  that  turns  the 
water,  which  should  grind  his  corn,  into  the  high- 
way, where  it  does  no  good?  And  is  not  he  a 
foo'ish  Christian,  that  employs  those  thoughts  about 
n>.cdless  toys,  which  should  help  to  provide  him 
:  piritual  food  ?  As  the  natural  heat  will  be  ever 
working, — if  it  have  not  food  to  digost,  it  will  prey 
upon  the  spirits,  and  destroy  itself, — so  the  mind 
of  man  will  be  always  busy;  if  not  in  thinking  of 
the  excellencies  of  God,  or  the  love  of  Christ,  or 
the  beauty  and  necessity  of  holiness,  then  in  specu- 
lative wantonness,  or  contemplative  wickedness,  in 
ambitious  fancies,  or  revengeful  desires.  We  are 
like  a  boat  swimming  against  the  tide  :  there  is  no 
standing  still ;  if  the  oar  be  left  that  we  go  not 
forward,  the  tide  will  carry  us  strongly  backward. 
If  the  ground  be  not  sown  with  good  seed,  it  will 
of  itself  bring  forth  evil  seeds. 

— Swinnock,  1 673. 

11.  When  pure  la  a  d-w^elllng-place  for  God, 

(2709.)  "Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they 
shall  see  God."  A  pure  heart  is  more  precious  in 
the  sight  of  God  than  aught  else  on  earth.  A  pure 
heart  is  a  fair,  fitly  adorned  chamber,  the  dwelling 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  golden  temple  of  the  God- 
head ;  a  sanctuary  of  the  only-begotten  Son,  in 
which  He  worships  the  Heavenly  Father;  an  altar 
of  the  grand,  Divine  sacrifice,  on  which  the  Son  is 
daily  ottered  to  the  Heavenly  Father.  A  pure  heart 
M  the  throne  of  the  Supreme  Judge ;  the  seat  and 


secret  chamber  of  the  Holy  Trinity ;  a  lampbeailng 

the  Eternal  Light ;  a  secret  council-chamber  of  the 
Divine  I'ersons  ;  a  treasury  of  divine  riches  ;  a  store- 
house of  divine  sweetness  ;  a  panoply  of  eternal 
wisdom  ;  a  cell  of  divine  solitude  ;  the  reward  of 
all  the  life  and  sufi"erings  of  Christ.  A  pure  heart 
is  a  tabernacle  of  the  Holy  Father ;  a  bride  of 
Christ ;  a  friend  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  a  delight  to 
the  eyes  of  all  saints  :  a  sister  of  the  angels  ;  a  cause 
of  joy  to  the  heavenly  hosts  ;  a  brother  of  all  good 
men  ;  a  terror  to  the  devil  ;  a  victory  and  conquest 
over  all  temptation  ;  a  weapon  against  all  assaults  ; 
a  reservoir  of  divine  benefits;  a  treasury  of  all 
virtue  ;  an  example  to  all  men  ;  a  restoiation  of  all 
that  has  ever  been  lost.  Now,  what  is  a  pure 
heart  ?  It  is,  as  we  have  said  before,  a  heart  which 
finds  its  whole  and  only  satisfaction  in  God,  which 
relishes  and  desires  nothing  but  God,  whose  thoughts 
and  intents  are  ever  occupied  with  God,  to  which 
all  that  is  not  of  God  is  strange  and  jarring,  which 
keeps  itself  as  far  as  possible  apart  from  all  unworthy 
images,  and  joys,  and  griefs,  and  all  outward  cares 
and  anxieties,  and  makes  all  these  work  together 
for  good  ;  for  to  the  pure  all  things  are  pure,  and  to 
the  gentle  is  nothing  bitter.  lanLer,  1340. 

(2710.)  Thy  alms  to  the  poor,  thy  counsel  to  the 
simple,  thy  inheritance  to  thy  children,  thy  tribute 
to  Caesar,  but  thy  heart  to  God.  lie  who  is  a 
spirit,  requires  the  spirit,  and  delights  to  dwell  in 
the  hearts  of  men.  Here  God  plants  Himself  as  in 
a  castle,  which  is  always  besieged  with  the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  If  the  enemy  get  a  thought, 
or  a  word,  or  a  work,  yet  he  has  but  razed  the  walls. 
15ut  if  he  take  the  heart,  then  the  fortress  is  lost. 
For  that  time  all  our  thoughts,  words,  and  works  are 
captive  unto  him  :  he  bids  them  go,  and  they  go ; 
do,  and  they  do  it.  — Henry  Smith,  1593. 

(271 1.)  My  heart,  when  it  is  whole  and  at  the 
best,  is  but  a  strait  and  unworthy  lodging  for  God. 
If  it  were  bigger  and  better,  I  would  reserve  it  all 
for  Him.  Satan  may  look  in  at  my  doors  by  a 
temptation,  but  he  shall  not  have  so  much  as  one 
chamber  room  set  apart  for  him  to  sojourn  in. 

— Hail,.  1574-1656. 

12.  A  picture  of  what  the  heart  should  be. 

(2712.)  Dike  those  fair  New  England  lakes, 
greened  around  with  meadows,  of  translucent  depth 
and  silver  sand,  on  whose  surface  armies  of  white 
lilies,  golden-crowned,  unfold  to  the  sun,  so  the 
Christian's  heart  should  be.  All  its  feelings  and 
affections  should  open  into  life  like  those  white 
lilies,  and  deep  amiu  the  blossom  petals  should  be 
seen  the  golden  crown  of  love.  — Beccher, 


HEAVEN. 

1.  A  place  as  well  as  a  state  of  being:, 

(2713.)  Each  man  has  a  separate  and  individual. 
though,  perhaps,  an  indistinct  idea  of  his  own  of 
what  heaven  may  be.  To  some  it  is  merely  a  state. 
It  is  all  within.  We  may  carry  it  about  with  us 
wherever  we  go,  in  the  perfect  rest  of  a  conscience 
wash^u  in  blood,  a  soul  fully  conscious  of  its 
acquitta.l  from  condemnation,  the  joy  of  spiritual 
fellowship  with  Christ  and  the  Father,  the  love 
which  ever  gushes  forth  in  the  sublime  language  of 
praise,  as  we  sing,  "Whom  having  not  seen  we 
love ;  in  whom  though  now  we  see  Him  not,  yet 


HE  A  VEN. 


(    462    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


believing,  we  rejoice  witii  joy  unspeakable,  and  full 
of  i^lury."  To  others  it  is  all  associated  with  a 
place.  There  must  be  trees,  rivers,  golden  pave- 
ments, jasper  walls,  harps  of  gold,  bejewelled 
crowns,  companies  of  angelic  beings,  all  the  insignia 
of  a  royal  life,  a  grand  tableau,  in  which  they  shall 
share,  majestic  spectacles  in  which  they  shall  bear 
their  part.  Probably  a  combination  of  both  ideas 
will  furnish  us  with  the  most  appropriate  represen- 
tation of  those  heavenly  delights  which  we  hope 
soon  to  share.  Take  two  men  of  kintired  purity  of 
spirit.  Let  one  dwell  amid  the  gloom  of  dark 
ravines,  where  the  chill  atmosphere  is  never  warmed 
by  the  genial  rays  of  the  sun,  where  overhanging 
rocks  make  perjietual  gloom,  where  no  music  save 
that  of  the  hoarse  cataract  is  ever  heard,  where  the 
song  birds  never  come,  the  dew-drops  never  glint, 
flowers  never  shed  perfume  on  the  breeze,  and  the 
only  vegetation  is  the  loathsome  fungi  that  finds  its 
congenial  home  amid  the  darkness.  Let  another 
dwell  in  a  sweet  sylvan  nook,  a  quiet  cottage  in  the 
bosom  of  the  laughing  valley,  whence  he  can  see  the 
heather  bells,  and  smell  the  hrier  rose,  or  go  forth 
and  sit  at  the  lake-side  amid  the  shade  of  birch  and 
pine  and  aspen,  while  the  rich  breezes  from  the 
mountains  on  either  hand  pour  torrents  of  life  through 
his  veins.  Can  you  doubt  which  vvill  be  ihe  happier 
of  the'  two?  Surely  he  who  possesses  the  purity 
within,  and  enjoys  the  heaven  without.  The  stale 
and  the  place  combine  together  to  make  the  liappi- 
ness  so  far  complete.  — G,  D.  Evans. 

2.  Imperfectness  of  our  knowledg'e  concerning 
it. 

(2714.)  If  one  should  come  from  a  strange 
country,  never  known  and  discovered  before,  and 
should  only  tell  us,  in  general,  that  it  was  a  most 
pleasant  and  delightful  place,  and  the  mhabitants, 
a  brave,  and  generous,  and  wealthy  people,  under 
the  government  of  a  wise  and  great  king,  ruling  by 
excellent  laws  ;  and  that  the  particular  delights 
and  advantages  of  it  were  not  to  be  imagined  by 
anything  he  knew  in  our  own  country,  and  should 
say  no  more  of  it  :  if  we  gave  credit  to  the  person 
that  brought  this  relation,  it  would  create  in  us 
a  great  admiration  of  the  country  described  to  us, 
and  a  mighty  concern  to  see  it,  and  live  in  it.  But 
it  would  be  a  vain  curiosity  to  reason  and  con- 
jecture about  the  particular  conveniences  of  it ; 
because  it  would  be  impossible,  by  any  discourse,  to 
arrive  at  the  certain  knowledge  of  any  more  than 
he  who  only  knew  it  was  plea■^ed  to  tell  us. 

This  is  the  case  as  to  our  heavenly  country.  Our 
blessed  Saviour,  who  "came  down  from  heaven," 
from  "the  bosom  of  His  Father,"  hath  revealed  to 
us  a  state  of  happiness  and  glory  in  general,  that 
there  is  such  "a  kingdom  prepared  for  us  ;  "  and 
when  He  was  leaving  the  world,  He  told  us,  that 
He  was  going  thither  by  the  way  of  the  grave  ;  and 
when  He  was  risen  again  from  the  dead,  and  was 
ascended  into  heaven.  He  promised  to  come  again 
at  the  end  of  the  world,  and  to  raise  us  out  of  the 
grave,  and  to  carry  us  into  those  celestial  mansions, 
"  where  we  shall  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord."  And 
beyond  this  He  hath  made  no  particular  discovery  to 
us  of  the  felicity  of  that  place  ;  He  hath  given  us  no 
punctual  representation  of  the  glory  of  it ;  He  hath 
not  declared  to  us,  in  a  special  manner,  what  our 
work  and  employment  shall  be,  in  what  way  God 
will  communicate  Himself  to  us,  nor  what  kmd  of 
conversation  we  shall  have  with  the  blessed  angels. 


and  with  one  another,  and  how  far  we  shall  know, 
or  be  known,  to  one  another  ;  or  whether  we  shall 
stand  affected  in  any  particular  manner  to  those 
who  were  our  friends,  and  relations,  and  ac- 
quaintance in  this  world.  These  and  perhaps  a 
thousand  things  more,  which  may  concern  the 
glories  of  thatsiate,  and  the  happiness  and  employ- 
ment of  the  "  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,"  our 
Saviour  hath  told  us  nothing  of,  but  only  in  general  ; 
and  it  is  impossible  for  us  with  any  certainty  to  make 
out  the  rest,  any  more  than  children  can  make  a 
conjecture  of  the  designs  and  reasonings  of  a  wise 
man  ;  not  only  because  it  would  be  of  no  great  use 
to  us,  but  because  the  imperfection  of  human  nature, 
and  of  our  faculties  in  this  state  of  mortality,  is  not 
able  to  bear  a  full  and  clear  representation  of  so 
great  glory.  — Tillotson,   1630- 1 694. 

(2715.)  Reflect,  how  little  of  the  future  and  the 
unseen  can  be  known  by  mere  description  ;  how 
faint  .and  imperfect  a  view  you  can  get  of  anything 
by  a  mere  statement  ;  how  little  you  know  of  a 
landscape,  a  waterfall,  a  picture,  by  any  description 
that  can  be  given.  Especially  must  this  be  so  of 
objects  which  have  no  reseiiiblance  to  anything  that 
we  have  seen.  Who  ever  obtained  any  idea  of 
Niagara  by  a  description?  Who,  say  to  the  most 
polished  Greek  and  Roman  mind,  could  have 
conveyed  by  mere  description  any  idea  of  the  print- 
ing-press, of  a  locomotive  engine,  of  the  magnetic 
telegraph?  Who  could  convey  to  one  born  blind 
an  idea  of  the  prismatic  colours  ;  or  to  the  deaf  an 
idea  of  sounds?  And  when  you  think  how  meagre 
in  the  Bible  is  the  description  of  heaven  ;  when  you 
think  how  easy  it  would  have  been  to  furnish  a 
more  minute  description  ;  .ire  you  certain  thai 
human  language  could  have  communicated  toyoi 
the  great  and  bright  conception  ;  or  that,  if  wordj 
could  have  been  found,  they  would  have  conveye  1 
to  you  an  exact  idea  of  a  state  so  different  from 
what  is  our  condition  here  ? 

— Barnes,  1 798-1870. 

(2716.)  Of  mankind  in  glory,  thus  perfected, 
what  shall  be  the  employ  ?  For  I  need  hardly 
press  it  on  you  that  it  is  impossible  to  crnceive  of 
man  in  a  high  and  happy  estate,  without  an  employ- 
ment worthy  of  that  estate,  and  in  fact  constituting 
its  dignity  and  happiness. 

Now  some  light  is  thrown  on  this  inquiry  by 
Holy  Scripture,  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  it  is 
very  scanty.  It  is  true  that  all  our  meditations  on, 
and  descriptions  of,  heaven  want  balance,  and  are, 
so  to  speak,  pictures  ill  composed.  We  first  build 
up  our  glorified  human  nature  by  such  hints  as  are 
furnished  us  in  Scrijiture  ;  we  place  it  in  an  abode 
worthy  of  it  ;  and  then  after  all  we  give  it  an 
unending  existence  with  nothing  to  do.  It  was  not 
ill  said  by  a  great  preacher,  that  most  peo]ile's  idea 
of  heaven  was  that  it  is  to  sit  on  a  cloud  and  sing 
psalms.  And  others  again  strive  to  fill  this  out 
with  the  bliss  of  recognising  and  holding  intercourse 
with  those  from  whom  we  have  been  severed  on 
earth.  And  beyond  all  doubt  such  recognition  and 
intercourse  shall  be,  and  shall  constitute,  one  of  the 
most  blessed  accessories  of  the  heavenly  employ- 
ment ;  but  it  can  no  more  be  that  employment  itself 
than  similar  intercourse  on  earth  was  the  employ- 
ment of  life  itself  here.  To  read  some  descri]itions 
of  heaven,  one  would  imagine  that  it  were  only  an 
endless  prolongation  of  some  social  meeting  ;  walk« 


HE  A  VEN. 


(    463    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


inij  and  talking  in  some  blessed  country  with  those 
whom  we  love.  It  is  clear  that  we  have  not  thus 
provided  the  renewed  eneigies  and  enlarged  powers 
of  perfected  man  with  food  for  eternity.  Nor  if  we 
look  in  another  direction,  that  of  the  absence  of 
sickness  and  care  and  sorrow,  shall  we  find  any 
more  satisfactory  answer  to  our  question.  Nay, 
rather  shall  we  find  it  made  more  difficult  and  beset 
with  more  complication.  For  let  us  think  how 
much  of  employment  for  our  present  energies  is 
occasioned  by,  and  finds  its  very  field  of  action  in, 
the  an.xieties  and  vicissitudes  of  life.  They  are,  so 
to  s]:>eak,  the  winds  which  fill  the  sail  and  carry  us 
onward.  By  tiieir  action,  hope  and  enthusiasm  are 
excited.  But  suppose  a  state  where  they  are  not,  and 
life  would  become  a  dead  calm  ;  the  sail  would  flap 
idly,  and  the  S[)irit  would  cease  to  look  onward  at 
all.  So  that  unless  we  can  supply  something  over 
and  above  the  mere  absence  of  anxiety  and  pain, 
we  have  not  attained  to,  nay,  we  are  farther  than 
ever  from,  a  sufficient  employment  for  the  life 
eternal.  Now,  before  we  seek  for  it  in  another 
direction,  let  us  think  for  a  moment  in  this  way. 
Are  we  likely  to  know  much  of  it?  We  have 
before  in  these  sermons  adopted  St.  Paul's  com- 
parison by  analogy,  and  have  likened  ourselves  here 
to  children  and  that  blessed  state  to  our  full  deve- 
lopment as  men.  Now  ask  yourselves,  what  does 
the  child  at  its  play  know  of  the  employments  of 
the  man  ?  Such  portions  of  them  as  are  merely 
external  and  material  lie  may  take  in,  and  represent 
in  hij  sport ;  but  the  work  and  anxiety  of  the 
student  at  his  book,  or  the  man  of  business  at  his 
desk,  these  are  of  necessity  entirely  hidden  from 
the  child.  And  so  it  is  onward  through  the  advanc- 
ing stages  of  life.  Of  each  of  them  it  may  be  said, 
"  We  know  not  with  what  we  must  serve  the  Lord, 
until  we  come  thither.'* 

So  that  we  need  not  be  utterly  disappointed,  if 
our  picture  of  heaven  be  at  present  ill  composed  :  if 
it  seem  to  be  little  else  than  a  gorgeous  mist  after 
all.  We  cannot  fill  in  the  members  of  the  landscape 
at  present.  If  we  could,  we  should  be  in  heaven. 
— Alford,  1810-1871. 

(2717.)  Does  it  not  sometimes  seem  strange  to  you, 
that  we  know  so  very  little  of  the  country  beyond  the 
grave  ?  Sometimes  this  is  borne  in  upon  us  with  a 
startling  clearness  ;  how  little  distinct  idea  we  have 
of  what  kind  of  place  it  is  ;  its  scenery,  its  homes,  its 
occupations.  The  veil  between  this  world  and  that  is 
JO  thick  ;  so  impossible  for  us  to  see  through.  And 
yet  we  ourselves  in  a  little,  perhaps  a  very  little, 
must  go  there  ;  that  is  certain.  If  it  were  only  a 
distant  place  in  this  world  we  were  going  to;  if  we 
knew  that  in  a  little  something  would  come  that 
would  make  it  necessary  that  we  should  leave  our 
present  homes,  our  children  and  friends,  and  these 
scenes  we  know,  and  go  away,  all  alone,  to  a  dis- 
tant and  unknown  land, — how  anxious  we  should 
be  to  learn  all  we  could  about  it, — the  place,  the 
people,  the  occupations,  the  kind  of  life  ?  Surely 
we  should  not  be  less  anxious  now,  because  in  a 
little  we  are  going,  not  to  another  place  in  this 
world,  where  we  couid  be  sure  that  many  things  would 
be  much  as  they  are  here  ; — where  a  sun  would  rise 
and  a  sun  would  set, — where  we  should  live  in  some 
kind  of  dwelling,  on  some  kind  of  food, — see  human 
faces, — work,  grow  weary,  rest,  sleep,  wake  again, 
—but  into  a  new  and  unknown  world,  where  every- 
thing may  be  sirange,  where  many  things  must  be 


so  !     We,  ourselves,  will  some  day  go  away  from 

this  place,  we  know  not  how,  passing  awa)  from 
human  sight  and  knowledge, — and  enter  into 
another  world  ;  we  shall  waken  up  from  death, 
and  find  ourselves  there.  Strange,  to  know  so 
little  of  a  place  which  we  shall  see  so  surely  ;  which 
we  may  see  so  soon  ! 

But  there  is  something  even  stranger  to  think  of. 
It  is  future,  our  going  to  that  unknown  place  ;  and 
we  are  able  to  put  away  from  us,  more  than  is  good 
for  us,  the  thought  of  things  in  what  we  think  the 
far  future.  But  think  that  at  this  very  time,  in 
this  very  moment,  some  who  were  the  dearest  to  us 
in  this  world  are  in  that  distant  land  ;  have  been 
for  time  longer  or  shorter.  The  father  and  mother 
are  there,  of  most  who  have  reached  middle  age  ; 
brothers  and  sisters,  once  so  united  :  little  children, 
whom  Jesus,  as  of  old,  called  to  Himself.  We 
went  with  them  to  the  furthest  edge  of  this  lifej 
but  as  they  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  other  world 
they  became  unseen  by  us  ;  there  was  no  further  trace 
of  them  :  there  is  no  communication  from  tliem,  no 
word  of  what  they  are  doing  there.  You  know  how 
anxious  you  are  when  your  child  has  gone  out  from 
your  home  to  some  distant  place,  to  know  all  about 
the  way  in  which  he  arranges  his  life ;  every  little 
thing,  nothing  to  a  stranger,  is  so  precious  to  you. 
Tell  us  everything,  you  write  ;  whom  you  see,  ^hat 
you  do  ;  every  little  homely  detail  of  life  ;  wliere 
yuu  take  your  walk  ;  everything  !  But  when  the 
child  goes  to  the  other  world,  the  parent  is  in  blank 
ignorance  of  all  details  of  his  life  ;  when  the  father 
goes,  whose  ways  we  knew  so  thoroughly,  we  are  in 
utter  darkness  as  to  his  life  there.  What  is  he 
thinking  about  ?  We  knew  so  well  what  he  used 
to  think  about  here  I  We  knew  the  chair  in  which 
he  sat  ;  the  table  at  which  he  wrote ;  how  he 
divided  out  his  day.  How  about  these  things 
tliere?  What  scenes  do  they  live  among  that  left 
us  ;  what  are  they  like :  what  change  has  passed 
upon  their  affections,  likirigs,  ways  ;  what  are  they 
doing  just  this  afternoon  ;  what  were  they  doing 
when  we  sunk  into  sleep  last  night,  when  we  awoke 
this  morning?  Are  they  thinking  there  of  those 
they  loved  so  much  here?  It  is  strange,  when  we 
think  of  it,  very  strange,  that  we  know  so  little  of 
the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth  for  which  we 
look  ;  of  the  country  which  strangers  and  pilgrims 
on  earth  have  sought  through  all  past  ages  ;  of  the 
(jolden  City,  the  New  Jerusalem,  which  gives  this 
life  its  great  motive,  which  is  the  central  fact  in  all 
our  religious  faith  1 

Now  it  is  plain  that  it  is  God's  purpose  we  should 
know  little  of  the  future  life  and  the  unseen  world  ; 
nothing  about  the  details  of  these.  — Boyd. 

3.  How  curious  questions  concerning  It  are  to 
be  answered. 

(2718  )  John  Bunyan  was  once  asked  a  question 
about  heaven  which  he  could  not  answer,  because 
the  matter  was  not  revealed  in  the  Scriptures  ;  and 
he  thereupon  advised  the  inquirer  to  live  a  holy  life 
and  go  and  see. 

4.  The  references  of  Scripture  to  It. 

(2719.)  These  scattered  and  brief  allusions  acquire, 
sometimes,  even  Irom  their  indefiniteness,  a  peculiar 
and  surpassing  interest.  We  gaze  upon  them  as  ok 
the  uprooted  sea-weed,  or  the  shivered  pine,  wafted 
by  storms  across  the  waste  of  waters,  revealing  lh» 


HE  A  VEN. 


(    464    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


existence  and   the  productions  of  a  yet  unknown 

world.  —M'All. 

5.  Its  supreme  glory,  the  Presence  of  COirlst. 

(2720.)  When  Cyius  took  the  king  of  Armenia 
and  his  son  Tigranes  and  their  wives  and  children 
prisoners,  and  upon  their  humble  submission,  beyond 
all  hope,  gave  them  their  liberty  and  their  lives,  in 
their  return  home,  as  they  all  fell  a-cominending 
Cyrus,  some  for  his  personage,  some  for  his  puiss- 
ance, some  for  his  clemency,  Tigranes  asked  his 
wife,  "What  thinkest  thou  of  Cyrus?  is  he  not  a 
comely  and  a  proper  man,  of  a  majestic  presence?" 
"Truly,"  said  she,  "1  know  not  what  manner  of 
man  he  is  ;  I  never  looked  on  him.''  "  Why," 
quoth  he,  "  where  were  thy  eyes  all  the  while  ?  Upon 
whom  didst  thou  look?"  "  I  fixed  my  eyes,"  saith 
she,  "all  llie  while  upon  him  (meaning  her  husband) 
who,  in  my  hearing,  offered  to  Cyrus  to  lay  down 
his  life  for  my  ransom."  And  thus,  if  any  question 
the  devout  soul,  whether  she  be  not  enamoured  with 
the  beauty  of  cherubim,  seraphim,  angels,  and  saints, 
with  the  pomp  and  splendour  of  that  heavenly  court, 
her  answer  will  be  that  of  Tigranes'  wife,  that  she 
never  did  so  much  as  cast  a  look  upon  them,  because 
her  eyes  were  never  off  Him  who  not  only  offered 
to  lay,  but  did  lay  down  His  life  for  her,  and  ran- 
somed her  with  His  own  blood.  Whom  should  she 
have  in  heaven  but  Him  who  hath  none  on  earth 
but  her?  — Featly,  1582-1644. 

6.  Its  delights  are  Inexhaustible,  and  its  joys 
eternal. 

(2721.)  Eternity  makes  heaven  to  be  heaven  ;  'tis 
the  diamond  in  the  ring  :  O  blessed  day,  that  shall 
have  no  night  !  the  sunlight  of  glory  shall  rise  upon 
the  soul  and  never  set  !  U  blessed  spring,  that  shall 
have  no  autumn,  or  fall  of  the  leaf  1 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2722.)  The  enjoyments  above,  and  the  treasures 
proposed  to  us  by  our  Saviour,  are  indefectible  in 
their  nature,  and  endless  in  their  duration.  They 
are  still  full,  fresh,  and  entire,  like  the  stars  and 
orbs  above,  which  shine  with  the  same  undiminished 
htstre,  and  move  with  the  same  unwearied  motion, 
with  which  they  did  from  the  first  date  of  their 
creation.  Nay,  the  joys  of  heaven  will  abide  when 
these  lights  ol  Tieaven  shall  be  put  out;  and  when 
sun  and  moon,  and  nature  itself,  shall  be  discharged 
their  stations,  and  be  employed  by  Providence  no 
more,  the  righteous  shall  then  appear  in  their  full 
glory  ;  and,  being  fixed  in  the  Divine  presence, 
enjoy  one  perpetual  and  everlasting  day  ;  a  day  com- 
mensurate to  the  unlimited  eternity  of  Ciod  Himself, 
the  great  Sun  of  righteousness,  who  is  always  rising, 
and  never  sets.  — South,  1633-17 16, 

(2723.)  Think  how  completely  all  the  griefs  of 
this  mortal  life  will  be  com[iensated  by  one  age,  for 
instance,  of  the  felicities  beyond  the  grave,  and  then 
think  that  one  age  multiplied  ten  thousand  times  is 
not  so  much  to  eternity  as  one  grain  of  sand  is  to 
the  whole  material  universe.  Think  what  a  state  it 
will  be  to  be  growing  happier  and  happier  still  as 
ages  pass  away,  and  yet  leave  something  still 
happier  to  come  !  — John  Foster,  1 770-1843. 

(2724.)  The  declaration  that  "  there  shall  be  no 
nigh!  there"  is  doubtless  true  even  in  its  literal  sense  ; 
tad    is   to  be  understood   as  teaching  that    in    the 


material  economy  of  heaven  there  is  nothing  which 
corresponds  to  the  interchange  of  light  and  dark- 
ness existing  on  earth.  In  that  supernal  clime 
reigns  one  eternal  day.  Its  skies  are  never 
shadowed  ;  its  sun  never  goes  down.  By  what  law 
of  celestial  physics,  by  what  constitution  and  action 
of  the  elements,  a  condition  of  being  so  unlike  our 
own  is  created  and  maintained.  Inspiration  has  not 
informed  us ;  nor  would  our  present  faculties  be 
equal  to  the  knowledge.  Dismissing  all  such  un- 
fruitiul  speculations,  we  rest  in  the  Divine  announce- 
ment, that  the  gloom  of  night  never  visits  the 
realms  above. 

The  absence  of  night  from  heaven  is,  however, 
to  be  regarded  chiefly  in  its  moral  significations. 
Though  a  real  fact,  it  has  the  intent  and  import  of 
a  symbol,  adumbrating  the  spiritual  features  of  the 
city  of  God,  and  embracing  the  whole  range  of  its 
blessedness.  Night  is  associated  with  the  idea  of 
weariness,  and  is  the  symbol  of  ignorance,  sin, 
dan.:;er,  want,  and  death:  but  in  heaven  none  of 
these  things  is  known.  — Ide. 

(2725.)  Many  good  people  suppose  that  we  shall 
see  heaven  the  hist  day  we  get  there.  No  !  you  can- 
not see  London  in  two  weeks.  You  cannot  see 
Rome  in  six  weeks.  You  cannot  see  Venice  in  a 
month.  You  cannot  see  the  great  city  of  the  New 
Jerusalem  in  a  day.  No  ;  it  will  take  all  eternity 
to  see  heaven,  to  count  the  towers,  to  examine  the 
trophies,  to  gaze  upon  the  thrones,  to  see  the  hier- 
archies. Ages  on  ages  roll,  and  yet  heaven  is  new. 
The  streets  new  1  'I'he  temple  new  !  The  joy  new  I 
The  song  new  1 

I  stayed  a  week  at  Niagara  Falls,  hoping  tho- 
roughly to  understand  and  appreciate  them.  But,  on 
the  last  day,  they  seemed  newer  and  more  incom- 
prehensible than  on  the  first  day.  Gazing  on  the 
infinite  rush  of  celestial  splendours,  where  the 
oceans  of  delight  meet,  and  pour  themselves  into 
the  great  heart  of  God — how  soon  will  we  exhaust 
the  song?  ^'  Never!  never  !"  — Idltnage. 

(2726.)  Almost  nothing  remains  in  this  world. 
Nations  do  not  remain  ;  they  have  been  ground  up 
again  and  again.  Cities  do  not  ;  they  have  been 
overturned  till  their  very  sites  are  questionable. 
The  most  triumphant  monuments  of  art  have  been 
crumbled  and  wasted.  Things  that  once  were 
centres  of  the  world's  admiration  and  worship  are 
gone.  Who  can  tell  where  Minerva  is,  that  took  the 
sun  first  and  took  the  sun  last  on  the  Acropolis  ? 
Who  can  tell  what  liecame  of  it,  or  who  destroyed 
it?  Who  can  tell  v\here  the  stateliest  temples  are? 
The  pomp  of  those  days  in  which  these  things 
existed  is  gone,  and  only  rude  fragments  and  heaps 
of  stone  remain  to  tell  the  story  of  their  greatness. 
Castles  are  wasted.  Even  the  mountains  are 
gradually  wearing  away.  The  earth  itself  seems  to 
be  changing,  changing  all  the  time.  But  there  is  a 
rest  that  remaineih — a  rest  that  time  only  fortifie.s, 
and  preserves  undiminished,  unmarred,  unremoved, 
anchored  in  the  eternal  sphere  firmer  than  the 
island  in  the  ocean  that  the  waves  beat  upon — a 
rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God. 

— Beecher, 

(t.'jz'j.)  You  will  observe  that  this  is  not  the 
whole  statement,  that  we  are  to  have  glory  in  heaven. 
As  applied  to  a  heavenly  state,  we  should,  of  course, 
construe  glory  according  to  the  scale  of  excellence 
which  is  supposed  to  belong  to  heaven.     If  you  go 


HE  A  VEN. 


(     46s     ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


Into  an  Indian's  wigwam,  a  few  eagles'  feathers, 
some  wampum,  and  two  or  three  strings  of  glittering 
beads,  are  about  all  that  you  will  see.  But  these 
are  glorious  for  an  Indian.  Now,  take  them  into 
the  cottage  of  a  poor  shepherd  or  a  farmer.  lie 
smiles  at  tliem,  and  calls  them  silly  trinkets.  They 
are  not  glorious  there.  But  there  are  other  things 
that  the  husbandman  thinks  to  be  glorious.  But 
that  which  is  glorious  in  a  plain  cottage  ceases  to 
be  glorious  when  you  carry  it  into  the  mansion, 
■where  there  is  wealth,  and  culture,  and  refinement. 
The  rich  man  has  things  that  are  glorious,  accordi\ig 
to  his  standard.  His  furniture  of  the  table,  his 
furniture  of  the  room,  his  pictures,  and  the  very 
apartments  themselves,  for  size  and  dignity,  are 
glorious  in  their  way.  But  if  you  take  those  things 
up  into  a  king's  palace,  where  are  gathered  the 
treasures  of  an  empire,  and  where  the  art  of  succes- 
sive ages  has  done  what  it  could  to  add  grace  and 
beauty  to  these  treasures,  then  they  cease  to  be 
glorious.  But  a  king's  palace  lifted  up  and  placed 
in  the  centre  of  Cjod's  heavenly  realm  would  be  a 
dark  spot.  It  is  nothing  as  compared  with  the 
glory  of  the  highest  point  of  creative  intelligence, 
taste,  and  skill.  When  heavenly  glory  is  spoken 
of,  we  are  to  have  a  sense  of  what  must  be  the 
exaltation  of  a  man's  thinking  power,  of  his  senti- 
ments, of  his  motives,  of  his  whole  active  state,  in 
that  upper  sphere  ;  we  are  to  measure,  not  according 
to  the  pattern  of  the  highest  school  on  earth,  but 
according  to  what  a  thing  must  be  where  God  and 
His  angels  dwell.  How  transcendent  is  the  idea 
when  carried  up  thus  ! 

But  it  is  not  enough  to  think  of  glory  as  applied 
to  heaven.  We  are  to  add  the  thought  of  weight 
(2  Cor.  iv.  17).  \\.  \%  weight  oi  ^Qxy .  ^o\v,zvei-ht 
does  not  signify  really  the  original  meaning  of  the 
figure.  The  term  in  the  apostle's  time  was  used  to 
signify  magnitude  ;  and  in  the  text  it  is  employed 
in  connection  with  glory  to  convey  the  impression 
of  a  glory  comprehensive,  widespread,  vast.  It 
was  not  a  fui^itive,  filmy  cloud  of  glory.  It  was  a 
glory  orbicular,  eternal,  and  so  illimitable  that  it 
must  be  spoken  of  in  terms  such  as  those  that  mea- 
sure and  characterise  mountains  or  continents. 

It  is  not  weight  alone.  It  is  exceeding '^€\^\\. ;  that 
is  to  say,  surpassing  weight — a  weight  that  goes  be- 
yond bounds  for  excellence  and  eminence. 

And  that  is  not  all.  It  is  etei-nal.  We  see  the 
compound  blow-pipe  concentrating  its  might  for  a 
moment  on  a  single  point.  It  glows  ;  it  is  intense  ; 
but  it  very  soon  spends  its  force,  and  goes  out.  We 
see  the  calcium  light.  It  glows  while  it  burns,  but 
it  soon  wastes  itself.  Now,  in  distinction  from 
these  quick  made  and  quick  perishing  glories,  which 
are  the  result  of  concentrated  forces,  and  which  are 
speedily  wasted  in  the  concentration,  the  apostle 
speaks  of  the  glory  of  the  other  life  as  one  that  is 
past  all  measuring  ;  past  all  ordinary  experience  ; 
and  past  all  thought.  It  is  exceeding,  excessive 
upon  excessive,  and  eternal.  — Beecher. 

7.  Tlie  rest  that  remalnetli  for  the  people  of 

God. 

(2728.)  One  night,  years  ago,  a  fire  broke  out  in 
an  American  wilderness.  A  spark  dropped  on  dry 
leaves,  the  lighted  leaves  flew  before  the  wind,  the 
flames  raced  along  the  grass,  and  glanced  from  tree 
to  tree,  till  all  the  forest  was  ablaze,  and  night  was 
turned  into  a  terrible  day.  Certain  Indians,  driven 
out  of  their  hunting  grounds  by  the  red  storm,  fled 


for  their  lives  ;  hour  after  hour  they  ran  and  ran  on, 
until,  half  dead  with  fatigue,  they  reached  a  noble 
river  :  they  forded  it,  and,  after  scaling  the  opposite 
bank,  their  chief  struck  his  tent-pole  into  the  ground, 
threw  himself  on  the  cool  turf,  and  cried,  Alabama  I 
— "  here  we  may  rest." 

But  that  chief  was  no  prophet.  The  land  was 
claimed  by  hostile  tribes.  The  fugitives  reached  no 
resting-place  there.  They  were  soon  beset  by  foes 
more  relentless  than  the  elements  ;  having  escaped 
the  fury  of  the  fire,  they  perished  from  the  cruelty  of 
man,  and  where  they  looked  for  the  still  delight  of 
a  home,  found  but  the  quiet  of  a  grave. 

Let  this  tradition  ^erve  as  a  parable.  Earth  has 
no  Alabama  for  the  soul.  In  flight  from  year  to 
year,  chased  from  refuge  to  refuge  in  which  they  set 
their  hearts,  the  fugitives  from  trouble  often  say,  as 
they  reach  t'ne  shelter  of  wealth,  or  the  shadow  of 
domestic  affection,  or  the  shrine  of  some  false  wor- 
ship, or  the  realisation  of  some  cherished  hope, 
"  Here  we  may  rest ;  "  but  God  says  "  No  "  to  that, 
and  again  and  again,  when  they  are  on  the  point  of 
sinking  into  deceptive  repose,  does  He  send  the 
stern  angels  of  calamity  to  wake  them  up  with  the 
cry,  "Arise,  depart,  for  this  is  not  your  rest  I" 

It  is  true  that  even  in  this  world  there  is  rest  for 
those  who  have  gathered  themselves  to  Shiloh  ;  rest 
through  reconciliation  with  God,  rest  through  union 
with  reconciled  men.  Yet,  in  our  relation  to  God, 
the  joy  of  faith  is  often  broken  by  unbelief,  and  ia 
our  relation  to  each  other  discordance  of  thought  is 
often  allowed  to  break  the  fellowship  of  love.  Whea 
we  have  enjoyed  an  hour  of  the  soul's  calm  sunshine, 
sin  soon  bieaks  our  tranquillity;  infirmity  breaks  it, 
human  unkindness  breaks  it,  or  it  is  broken  by  some 
storm  of  sorrow.  On  earth  our  rest  is  at  least  im- 
perfect, but  there  is  rest  in  heaven,  for  Shiloh  is 
there  ;  there  in  full  and  visible  manifestation,  the 
brightness  of  its  glory  and  the  secret  of  its  rest,  and 
there  at  last  to  Him  will  the  gathering  of  His  people 
be.  — Stanford. 

(2729.)  The  rest  of  inaction  is  but  the  quiet  of  a 
stone,  or  the  stillness  of  the  grave,  or  the  exhaustion 
of  a  spent  and  feeble  nature.  But  there  is  a  nob'er 
rest  than  this.  There  is  rest  in  health  ;  there  is  test 
in  the  musical  repose  of  exquisitely  balanced  powers; 
there  is  rest  to  the  desiring  faculties  when  they  find 
the  thmg  desired  ;  there  is  rest  in  the  rapture  of 
congenial  employment  ;  rest  in  the  flow  of  joyful 
strength  ;  rest  in  the  swift  glide  of  thestream  when 
it  meets  with  no  impediment.  Such  is  the  rest  of 
the  glorified.  Perfect  beings  in  a  perfect  world, 
rejoicing  in  their  native  element,  having  no  weak- 
ness within,  and  no  resisting  force  without,  to  check 
the  outflow  and  expression  of  their  loving  natures; 
their  activity  therefore  being  easy,  natural,  and 
necessary,  as  light  is  to  the  sun,  and  fragrance  to  the 
flowers  of  spring — activity  to  them  is  rest.  Blessed 
are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord,  for  they  rest, 
not  from  their  works,  but  only  from  their  labours. 
It  would  be  a  labour  for  them  not  to  work.  To 
hush  their  music,  and  to  stop  their  action,  would  be 
to  them  intolerable  toil;  they  would  be  "weary 
with  forbearing  and  could  not  stay,"  So  they 
"rest,"  yet  they  rest  not  day  nor  night. 

— Stanford, 

8.  Is  strictly  reserved  for  God's  people. 

(2730.)  We  often  make  narrow  entrances,  through 
which,  but  one  at  a  time  can  pass,   that  we  maj 

2  O 


HEAVEN. 


(    466    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


examine  his  ticket,  and  see  whether  he  has  a  right 
to  pass.  And,  be  sure,  though  we  may  look  re- 
spectable on  the  fashionable  broadway  of  World  or 
Church,  we  cannot  enter  heaven  as  those  who  pass 
in  a  crowd.  God  deals  with  souls  as  men  deal  with 
sovereigns,  which  they  examine  and  weigh  one  by 
one. 

9.  Necessity  of  preparation  for  It. 

(2731.)  Holiness  does  not  only  fit  us  for  heaven, 
so  that  without  it  we  can  have  no  entrance  or  aduiit- 
tatice  there  ;  but  it  also  tits  us,  that  if  it  were  pos- 
sible for  us  to  enter  into  heaven  void  of  it,  heaven 
would  be  no  place  of  happiness  to  us  in  that  condi- 
tion, but  a  place  of  trouble,  torment,  and  vexation. 
As,  for  instance,  it  is  impossible  for  a  I'eggar  in  his 
rags  to  be  admitted  to  the  society  and  converse  of 
princes  and  noblemen  ;  but  put  the  case  that  he 
were,  yet  his  beggarly  contlition  would  never  suffer 
him  to  enjoy  himself  in  that  company,  in  which  he 
could  be  nothing  but  a  mock  and  a  derision.  In 
like  manner,  heaven  bears  no  suitableness  to  an  im- 
pure, unsanciified  person.  For  a  sinful  heart  must 
have  -inful  delights  and  sinful  com|)any,  and  where 
it  meets  not  with  such,  in  the  very  midst  of  comforts 
and  company,  it  finds  a  solitude  and  a  dissatisfac- 
tion. —South,  1633-17 16. 

(2732.)  The  last  use  which  I  shall  make  of  this 
remarkable  property  in  human  nature,  of  being  de- 
lighted with  those  actions  to  which  it  is  accustomed, 
is  to  sliow  how  absolutely  necessary  it  is  for  us  to 
gain  habits  of  viriue  in  this  life,  if  we  would  enjoy 
the  pleasures  of  the  next.  The  state  of  bliss  we  call 
heaven  will  not  be  capable  of  affecting  those  minds 
which  are  not  thus  qualified  for  it :  we  must  in  this 
world  gain  a  relish  of  truth  and  virtue,  if  we  would 
be  able  to  taste  that  knowledge  and  perfection 
which  are  to  make  us  happy  in  the  next.  The 
seeds  of  those  spiritual  joys  and  raptures,  which  are 
to  rise  up  and  flourish  in  the  soul  to  all  eternity, 
must  be  planted  in  her  during  this  lier  present  state 
of  probation.  In  short,  heaven  is  not  to  be  looked 
upon  only  as  the  reward,  but  as  the  natural  efiect, 
of  a  religious  life.  — AJdisoii,  1672-17 19. 

(2733.)  If  you  ask  me  what  the  preparation  is, 
I  have  two  words  for  you  which  will  describe  it, 
common  as  household  words,  taking  in  the  whole 
of  preparation — justification,  sanctification  :  that  is 
all.  Justification  :  you  must  get  the  robe  on,  the 
best  robe,  the  robe  of  righteousness  ;  you  must  be 
justified  by  grace  through  faith.  You  will  not  be 
allowed  to  go  into  heaven  if  you  are  a  rebel,  steeped 
in  all  the  guilt  of  rebellion.  The  sovereign  does 
not  allow  the  criminal  to  go  to  court,  and  walk  the 
royal  galleries,  and  sit  at  the  royal  table,  and  look 
on  the  royal  face.  The  man  that  goes  there  must, 
at  least,  have  his  character  cleared.  "  Be  it  known 
unto  you,  men  and  brethren,  that,  through  this 
man,  Christ  Jesus,  is  preached  unto  you  the  for- 
giveness of  sin."  I  have  not  time  to  open  that  ;  and 
as,  I  presume,  it  is  the  burden  of  much  of  the  mini- 
strations among  you  regularly,  it  is  not  necessary 
that  I  should  trench  upon  your  time  now.  But 
besides  the  meetness  of  justification  for  that  great 
event  of  Christ's  coming  in  the  clouds,  there  is  tlie 
meetness  of  sanctification.  A  man  may  in  a  fit  of 
passion  strike  his  fellow  ;  he  commits  a  crime  by 
doing  so  ;  he  is  punishable,  and  may  be  thrown 
into  prison  for  that  breach  of  law.    He  has  remained 


there  a  certain  time,  and  the  prison  doors  are 
opened  before  him  ;  he  walks  out  and  there  is  no 
more  in  the  law  to  detain  him  ;  he  has  satisfied  the 
law  ;  but  when  the  man  comes  out  from  prison,  he 
is  not  a  whit  better  fitted  for  society  tlian  before  he 
went  in  ;  he  brings  out  all  the  bad  passions  with 
him  that  he  took  in  ;  the  man  is  justified,  but  he 
wants  sanctifying.  I  can  imagine  some  one  g"ing 
into  hell  itself,  and  putting  out  the  flames  of  hell 
fire ;  but  would  that  make  the  persons  in  hell 
happy  ?  No  ;  there  is  a  fire  within  that  must  be  put 
out  ;  and,  "  without  holiness,  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord."  — Beaumont. 

(2734.)  Heaven  must  be  begun  below  in  all  those 
who  sliall  enjoy  its  perfection  above.  Heaven  is  a 
place  of  character  ;  tlie  full  development  of  those 
principles  and  dispositions  which  are  received  and 
cherished  upon  earth,  by  the  knowledge  of  Jesus, 
and  the  teaching  of  His  Spirit.  No  child  on  its  first 
introduction  to  a  school  is  placed  in  the  highest 
class,  but  in  one  or  other  of  the  lower,  where  the 
first  elements  of  a  future  education  are  imparted, 
and  the  necessary  ground-work  is  laid  for  the  more 
matured  instructions  which  successively  follow  :  the 
one  must  precede  the  other  ;  there  is  an  unalterable 
connection  between  them  :  as  much  so,  and  as 
absolutely  essential,  as  between  the  bud  and  blossom 
of  a  tree,  and  the  fruit  which  is  to  follow  ;  or  be- 
tween the  state  of  infancy  and  that  of  full-grown 
manhood  ;  the  first  of  necessity  goes  before  the  other. 
As  well,  therefore,  might  we  look  for  the  state  of 
manhood  without  the  previous  stages  of  infancy, 
childhood,  and  youth  ;  as  well  might  we  expect  to 
reach  the  fruit  from  any  tree  where  no  buds  and 
blossoms  were  previously  formed,  as  expect  ad- 
mission into  heaven  without  being  "created  anew 
in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works,"  and  made  to 
possess  the  tempers,  learn  the  principles,  and 
imbibe  the  dispositions,  of  its  blessed  inhabitants, 
while,  like  them,  we  seek  our  happiness  from  "that 
river  of  joy  "  which  "  waters  the  city  of  our  God." 

^Salter, 

(2735.)  Even  supposing  a  man  of  unholy  life 
were  suffered  to  enter  heaven,  he  would  not  be 
happy  there  ;  so  that  it  would  be  no  mercy  to  per- 
mit him  to  enter.  For  heaven,  it  is  plain  from 
Scripture,  is  not  a  place  where  many  difierent  and 
discordant  pursuits  can  be  carried  on  at  once,  as  is 
the  case  in  this  world.  Here  every  man  can  do  his 
own  pleasure,  but  there  he  must  do  God's  pleasure. 
It  would  be  presumption  to  attempt  to  determine 
the  employments  of  that  eternal  life  which  good 
men  are  to  pass  in  God's  presence,  or  to  deny  that 
that  state  which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard, 
nor  mind  conceived,  may  comprise  an  infinite 
variety  of  pursuits  and  occupations.  Still  so  far  we 
are  distinctly  told,  that  that  future  life  will  be  spent 
in  God's  presence,  in  a  sense  which  does  not  apply 
to  our  present  life  ;  so  that  it  may  be  best  described 
as  an  endless  and  uninterrupted  worship. 

fleaven,  then,  is  not  like  this  world;  I  will  say 
what  it  is  much  more  like, — a  church.  For  in  a 
place  of  public  worship  no  language  of  this  world  is 
heard  ;  there  are  no  schemes  brought  forward  for 
temporal  objects,  great  or  small  ;  no  information 
how  to  strengthen  our  worldly  interests,  extend  our 
influence,  or  establish  our  credit.  These  things 
indeed,  may  be  right  in  their  way,  so  that  we  do 
not  set  our  hearts  upon  them ;  still,  I  repeat,  it  ia 


HE  A  VEN. 


(    467    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


certain  that  we  hear  nothing  of  them  in  a  church. 
Here  we  hear  solely  and  entirely  of  God.  We 
praise  Him,  worship  llim,  sing  to  liini,  thank 
Kim,  conless  to  Him,  give  ourselves  up  to  Him, 
and  ask  His  blessing.  And,  therefore,  a  church  is 
like  heaven  ;  viz.,  because  both  in  the  one  and  the 
other,  there  is  one  single  sovereign  subject — religion 
— brought  before  us. 

Su|)posing,  then,  instead  of  it  being  said  that  no 
irreligious  man  could  serve  and  attend  on  God  in 
heaven  (or  see  Him,  as  the  text  expresses  it),  we 
were  told  tliat  no  irreligious  man  could  worship,  or 
spiritually  see  Him  in  cliurch,  should  we  not  at 
once  perceive  the  meaning  of  the  doctrine?  viz., 
that,  were  a  man  to  come  hither,  who  had  suffered 
his  mind  to  grow  up  in  its  own  way,  as  nature  or 
chance  determined,  without  any  deliljerate  habitual 
effort  after  truth  and  purity,  he  would  find  no  real 
pleasure  here,  but  would  soon  get  weary  of  the 
place  ;  because,  in  this  house  of  God,  he  would  hear 
only  of  that  one  subject  which  he  cared  little  or 
nothing  about,  and  nothing  at  all  of  those  things 
which  excited  his  ho|3es  and  fears,  his  sympathies 
and  energies.  If  then  a  man  without  religion  (sup- 
posing it  possible)  were  admitted  into  heaven, 
doulitless  he  would  sustain  a  great  disappointment. 
Before,  indeed,  he  fancied  that  he  could  be  happy 
there  ;  but  when  he  arrived  there,  he  would  find  no 
discour-'C  but  that  which  he  hail  slumned  on  earth, 
no  pursuits  but  those  he  had  dibliked  or  despised, 
nothing  which  bound  him  to  aught  else  in  the 
universe,  and  made  him  feel  at  home,  nothing 
which  he  could  enter  into  and  rest  upon.  He 
would  perceive  himself  to  be  an  isolated  being,  cut 
away  by  Supreme  Power  from  those  objects  which 
were  still  entwined  around  his  heart.  Nay,  he 
would  be  in  the  presence  of  that  Supreme  Tower, 
whom  he  never  on  earth  could  bring  hiuiseif  steailily 
to  think  upon,  and  whom  now  he  regarded  only  as 
the  destroyer  of  all  that  was  precious  and  dear  to 
him.  Ah  !  he  could  not  bear  the  face  of  the 
Living  God  ;  the  Holy  God  wuld  be  no  object  of 
joy  to  him  "Let  us  alone  !  What  have  we  to  do 
with  Thee?"  is  the  sole  thought  and  desire  of  un- 
clean souls,  even  while  they  acknowledge  His 
majesty.  None  but  the  holy  can  look  upon  the 
Holy  One  ;  without  holiness  no  man  can  endure  to 
see  the  Lord.  — Newman. 

(2736.)  When  we  think  to  take  part  in  the  joys 
ofheaven  without  holiness,  we  are  as  inconsiderate 
as  if  we  supposed  we  could  take  an  interest  in  the 
worship  of  Ghristians  here  below  without  possessing 
it  in  our  measure.  A  careless,  a  sensual,  an  un- 
believing mind,  a  mind  destitute  of  the  love  and 
fear  of  God,  with  narrow  views  and  earthly  aims, 
a  low  standard  of  duty,  and  a  benighted  conscience, 
a  mind  contented  with  itself,  and  unresigned  to 
God's  will,  VAOuld  feel  as  little  pleasure,  at  the  last 
day,  at  the  words,  "  Enter  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord," 
as  it  does  now  at  the  words,  "  Let  us  pray."  Nay, 
much  less,  because,  while  we  are  in  a  church,  we 
may  turn  our  thoughts  to  other  subjects,  and  con- 
trive to  forget  that  God  is  looking  on  us  ;  but  that 
will  not  be  possible  in  heaven. 

We  see,  then,  that  holiness,  or  inward  separation 
from  the  world,  is  necessary  to  our  admission  into 
heaven,  because  heaven  is  not  heaven,  is  not  a  place 
of  happiness,  except  to  the  holy.  There  are  bodily 
indispositions  which  affect  the  taste,  so  that  the 
eweetest  flavours  become  ungrateful  to  the  palate ; 


and  indispositions  which  impair  the  sight,  tinging 
the  fair  face  of  nature  with  some  sickly  hue.  In 
like  manner,  there  is  a  moral  malady  which  disorders 
the  inward  sight  and  taste  ;  and  no  man  labouring 
under  it  is  in  a  condition  to  enjoy  what  Scripture 
calls  "the  fulness  of  joy  in  Gods  presence,  and 
pleasures  at  His  right  hand  for  evermore." 

— Newman . 

(2737.)  If  we  wished  to  imagine  a  punishment 
for  an  unholy,  reprobate  soul,  we  perhaps  could  not 
fancy  a  greater  than  to  summon  it  to  heaven. 
Heaven  would  be  hell  to  an  irreligious  man.  W^e 
kni)W  how  unhappy  we  are  apt  to  feel  at  present, 
when  alone  in  the  midst  of  strangers,  or  of  men  of 
different  tastes  and  habits  Irom  ourselves.  How 
miserable,  for  example,  would  it  be  to  have  to  live 
in  a  foreign  land,  among  a  people  whose  faces  we 
never  saw  before,  and  whose  language  we  could  not 
learn.  And  this  is  but  a  faint  illustration  of  the 
loneliness  of  a  man  cf  earthly  dispositions  and  tastes, 
thrust  into  the  society  of  saints  and  angels.  How 
forlorn  would  he  wander  through  the  courts  of 
heaven!  He  would  find  no  one  like  himself;  he 
wouhl  see  in  every  direction  the  marks  of  God's 
holiness,  and  these  would  make  him  shudder.  He 
would  feel  himself  always  in  His  presence.  He 
could  no  longer  turn  liis  thoughts  another  way,  as 
he  does  now,  when  conscience  reproaches  him. 
He  would  know  that  the  Eternal  Eye  was  ever  upon 
him  ;  and  that  eye  of  holiness,  which  is  joy  and  life 
to  holy  creatures,  would  seem  to  him  an  eye  of 
wrath  and  punishment.  God  cannot  change  His 
nature.  Holy  He  must  ever  be.  Ihit  while  He  is 
holy,  no  unholy  soul  can  be  happy  in  heaven.  Fire 
does  not  inflame  iron,  but  it  inflames  straw.  It 
would  cease  to  be  fire  if  it  did  not.  And  so  heaven 
itsell  would  be  fire  to  those  who  would  fain  escape 
across  the  great  gulf  from  the  torments  of  hell. 
I'he  finger  of  Lazarus  would  but  increase  their 
thirst.  The  very  "  heaven  that  is  over  their  bead" 
will  be  "brass"  to  theai.  Newman. 

(2738.)  The  unfitness  of  unrenewed  souls  for 
heaven  may  be  illustrated  by  the  incapacity  of  cer- 
tain uneducated  and  coarse-minded  persons  for 
elevated  thoughts  and  intellectual  pursuits.  When 
a  little  child,  I  lived  some  years  in  my  grandfather's 
house.  In  his  garden  there  was  a  fine  old  hedge  of 
yew  of  considerable  length,  which  was  clijjped  and 
trimmed  till  it  made  quite  a  wall  of  verdure.  Be- 
hind it  was  a  wide  grass  walk,  which  looked  upon 
the  fields,  and  afforded  a  quiet  outlook.  The  grass 
was  kept  movvn,  so  as  to  make  pleasant  walking. 
Here,  ever  since  the  old  Puiitanic  chapel  was  built, 
godly  divines  had  walked  and  prayed  and  medi- 
tated. My  granillather  was  wont  to  use  it  as  his 
study.  Up  and  down  it  he  would  walk  when  pre- 
paring his  sermons,  and  always  on  Sabbath-days 
when  it  was  fair,  he  had  hall-an-hour  there  before 
preaching.  To  me  it  seemed  to  be  a  perlect  para- 
dise, and  being  forbidden  to  stay  there  when  grand- 
father was  meditating,  I  viewed  it  with  no  small 
degree  of  awe.  I  love  to  think  of  the  green  and 
quiet  walk  at  this  moment,  and  could  wish  for  just 
such  a  study.  But  I  was  once  shocked  and  even 
horrified  by  hearing  a  farming  man  remark  concern- 
ing this  sanctum  saiulonti/i,  "It  'ud  grow  a  many 
'taturs  if  it  wor  ploughed  up."  WHiat  cared  he  foi 
holy  memories?  What  were  meditation  and  con- 
icmpliiLion  to  him?     Is  it  not  the  chief  end  of  man 


HE  A  VEN. 


( 


) 


HEA  VEN. 


to  grow  potatoes  and  eat  them  ?  Such,  on  a  larger 
scale,  woiilci  be  an  unconverted  man's  estimate  of 
joys  so  elevated  and  retined  as  those  of  lieaven, 
could  he  by  any  possibility  be  permitted  to  gaze 
upon  them.  — Sturgeon. 

10.  FamlUaiised  to  us  by  tlie  death  of  our  be. 
loved  ones. 

(2739.)  Our  views  of  heaven,  during  the  present 
life,  are  like  those  presented  to  us  at  the  close  of 
day,  relating  to  the  splendour  of  the  nightly  firma- 
ment. We  look  up  where  all  was  blank  before,  and 
sec  here  and  there  a  star  casting  a  faint  and  feeble 
radiance  amidst  the  i;loom  of  deepening  twilight  ; 
and  from  these,  dimly  discovered  and  spoiled  of 
their  glory  by  the  remaining  light  of  evening,  we 
gather  ihe  existence  of  some  far  distant  region,  be- 
yontl  that  canopy  that  seems  to  encircl;  by  day  the 
whole  visible  creation  ;  and  we  begin  to  judge  more 
wisely  of  the  magnitude  of  nature.  But  little  could 
we  learn,  from  such  a  spectacle,  of  the  overwhelming 
majesty  of  the  midnight  sky  ; — of  the  constellations 
that  beam  so  effulgently  upon  us,  with  increasing 
characters  of  greatness  and  of  beauty,  as  the  reign 
of  darkness  advances,  and  while  night,  invisible  her- 
self, draws  aside  the  curtain  which  concealeil  the  won- 
drous whole.  Little  could  we  know  of  those  fields  of 
light  and  glory,  immeasurable  and  untrodden,  which 
stretch  beyond  the  boundaries  of  human  vision  ; — 
those  realms  of  varied  life  and  intelligence  whieh 
;ie  embosomed  in  the  deep  blue  heavens,  like  islands 
floating  in  the  ocean  of  immensity.  Little  could  we 
guess,  Irom  that  imperfect  revelation,  of  the  ampli- 
tude of  space  and  being  ;  of  the  order  and  arrange- 
ment beaming  on  the  instructed  eye  of  science,  in 
the  many  systems  of  that  starry  sphere  which  glitters 
so  silently  above.  Still  less  could  we  conjecture 
from  the  solitary  glimmering  of  those  fires,  so  pale 
and  distant,  what  is  the  garniture,  and  what  the 
boundless  magnificence,  with  which  the  eternal  Archi- 
tect has  adorned  the  temple  of  the  universe.  Now, 
it  is  one  of  the  highest  benefits  derivable  from  the 
death  of  such  men  as  we  have  here  revered  and 
loved,  that  it  diminishes  the  sensible  remoteness  of 
that  happier  world  to  which  we  hope  hereafter  to 
ascend.  The  strangene.ss  and  impalpable  sjnritual- 
ity  of  its  whole  being  seems  abated  in  equal  measure 
with  our  familiarity  with  the  names  and  character  of 
its  inhabitants.  — M^All. 

11.  The  realm  where  character  Is  perfect. 

(2740.)  See  here  that  which  may  make  us  long  to 
be  in  heaven  ;  then  we  shall  do  God's  will  per.rectly, 
as  the  angels  do.  Alas  !  how  defective  are  we  in 
ourobedicnce  here  !  IJow  (ar  do  we  fall  short  I  We 
cannot  write  a  copy  of  holiness  without  blotting  ; 
our  holy  things  are  blemished,  like  the  moon,  which 
when  it  shines  brightest  hath  a  dark  spot  in  it  :  but 
in  heaven  we  shall  do  God's  will  perfectly,  as  the 
angels  in  glory.  — li^atsoti,  1696. 

(2741.)  There  are  many  good  men  whom  here  on 
earth  it  is  arduous  to  love.  They  are  whimsical, 
they  are  taciturn,  they  are  opinionative  and  dogma- 
tical ;  they  are  imjierious  and  self-indulgent  ;  they  are 
severe  and  satirical  ;  they  ase  be.set  with  strong  pre- 
judices of  evil  tempers;  and  their  excellence  is  as 
inaccessible  as  the  hagrance  of  a  thorny  lose  or  tne 
nectar  inside  an  adamant  shell.  But  in  that  genial 
region  the  spirits  of  the  just  are  per'ect.  Jacob  is 
Hot  wily,   Ihomas  is   not  obstinate,    i'eter  is   not 


precipitate  ;  but,  like  those  plants  which  grow  tall 
enough  to  leave  all  their  youthful  spines  behind 
them, —  like  those  wines  which  grow  old  enough  to 
outlive  their  criginalansterity, — the  (law  s.the  failures 
of  earthly  piety,  all  have  vanished  in  that  perfect 
world.  — HamiltQn,  1 8 14- 1 S6  7. 

12.  Varieties  of  character  In  heaven. 

(2742.)  God  has  g^iven  to  each  his  talent  and  his 
temperament,  and  in  the  Ghurch  below  1  le  has 
made  this  diversity  of  gifts  not  a  discord  but  a 
symphony — a  source  not  of  confusion  and  disorder, 
but  ol  beauty  and  stable  symmetry.  And  so.  doubt- 
less, will  it  continue  on  high.  'I'he  lily,  when  you 
rescue  it  from  among  the  thorns,  or  when  from  tht 
windy  storm  and  the  tempest  you  take  it  into  the 
sunny  shelter,  does  not  become  a  palm  or  a  cedar, 
but  only  a  fairer,  sweeter  lily  than  before.  And  a 
topaz  or  a  sapphire  of  earth,  if  taken  to  build  the 
walls  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  does  not  become  an 
emerakl  or  an  amethyst,  but  remains  a  topaz  or  a 
sapphire  still.  And  translated  from  the  tarnish  and 
attrition  of  time,  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  each 
glorilied  nature  will  retain  in  a  higher  sphere  its 
original  fitness  and  inherent  affinities  ;  and  how  for 
the  many  mansions  there  will  not  only  be  many 
occupants,  but  every  occupant  may  have  his  own 
office  even  there.  It  »»  e:\sy  to  imagine  that  Isaac 
still  will  meditate,  and  that  the  sueet  singer  of 
Israel  shall  neither  be  at  a  loss  for  a  golden  harp 
nor  good  matter  in  a  song.  It  is  easy  to  inngine 
that  Paul  will  find  some  outlet  for  his  eloquence, 
and  Peter  for  his  energy  ;  and  not  easy  to  conceive 
that  John  the  Divine  will  be  the  same  as  Philip  or 
Matthew,  or  Martha  the  busy  housekeeper  the  same 
as  Mary  the  adoring  listener.  To  every  precious 
stone  there  remains  its  several  tint  ;  to  every  star 
its  own  glory  ;  to  every  denizen  of  the  Church  above 
his  own  office  ;  and  to  every  member  of  the  heavenly 
family  his  own  mansion. 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

(2743.)  The  blessed  God  delights  in  variety.  In 
all  His  works,  along  with  perlect  order,  there  is 
eternal  change.  There  is  no  mountain  e.\actly  like 
another  mountain;  there  are  no  two  trees  whose 
boughs  bend  into  the  same  network  of  interlacing 
lines  ;  no  two  leaves  alike  ;  no  two  clouds  alike  ;  no 
two  waves  alike  ;  but  the  face  of  nature  is  infinitely 
diversified.  So  also  is  the  Church.  You  see  no 
two  men  with  the  like  endowments  ;  no  two  spheres 
marked  by  exact  similarity.  Each  one  has  his  own 
peculiar  gift  for  his  own  peculiar  station  ;  some 
have  to  serve  their  Lord  with  the  power  of  the  pen, 
others  with  the  power  of  the  tongue  ;  some  by  tiieir 
poverty,  others  by  their  wealth  ;  and  each  one  has 
a  distinct  individuality  of  power  and  place  and 
opportunity.  We  see  Aaron  with  his  eloquence, 
and  Moses  with  his  stammering  speech.  "There 
is  a  Jeremy  to  give  the  prophecy,  and  a  Baruch  to 
read  it,"  a  Paul  to  plant,  and  an  A  polios  to  water. 
One  man  is  a  "son  of  consolation,"  another  a  "  son 
of  thunder."  One  servant  has  five  talents,  another 
two,  and  another  one.  As  the  Church  in  heaven  is 
but  the  consummation  of  the  Church  on  earth,  we 
may  infer  that  the  law  of  variety,  which  shines  in 
this  earthly  exhibition  of  Christianity,  and  which 
prevails  all  over  this  region  ot  existence,  sheds  its 
fascinations  over  Paradise,  and  lends  its  zest  to  the 
services  of  heaven,  — Sianjord. 


HE  A  VEN. 


(    469    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


18.  The  vastness  of  its  population, 

(2744.)  If,  at  six  o'clock,  when  this  church 
opened,  you  had  taken  tlie  few  people  that  were 
scattered  through  it  as  the  main  amiience,  you 
would  not  have  made  so  great  a  mistake  as  if  you 
supposed  that  the  present  populalinn  of  heaven  are 
to  be  its  chief  ciiizensliip.  Although  ten  million 
times  ten  million,  the  inhabitants  are  only  a  hand- 
ful compared  with  the  future  populations.  All 
China  is  )et  to  be  saved.  All  India  is  yet  to  be 
saved.  All  Borneo  is  yet  to  be  saved.  All  Switzer- 
land is  yet  to  be  saved.  All  Italy  is  yet  to  be  saved. 
All  Spain  is  yet  to  be  saved.  All  Russia  is  yet  to 
be  saved.  All  France  is  yet  to  be  saved.  All 
England  is  yet  to  be  saved.  All  America  is  yet  to 
be  saved.  All  the  world  is  yet  to  be  saved.  After 
that  there  may  be  other  worlds  to  conquer.  I  do 
not  kiiow  but  that  very  star  that  glitters  to-night 
is  an  inhabited  world,  and  that  from  all  those 
spheres,  a  mighty  host  are  to  march  into  our 
he^ven.  Theie  will  be  no  gate  to  keep  them  out. 
We  will  nGi  want  to  keep  them  out.  God  will  not 
want  to  keep  them  out.  I  have  sometimes  thought 
that  all  the  millions  of  earth  that  go  into  glory  are 
but  a  very  small  colony  compareil  with  the  inllux 
irom  the  whole  universe.  God  could  build  a  heaven 
large  enough,  not  only  for  the  universe,  but  for  ten 
thousand  universes.  I  do  not  know  just  how- 
it  will  be  ;  but  this  I  know,  that  heaven  is  to  be 
constantly  augmented,  that  the  song  is  swelling  by 
the  intonation  of  more  voices,  that  the  song  of 
glory  is  rising  higher  and  higher,  and  the  procession 
is  being  multiplied.  — 'lamiagi. 

(2745.)  Gather  together  all  the  pencils  that  were 
ever  manufactuied,  and  all  the  jiaper  ever  made,  in 
some  large  place,  and  call  together  all  the  men  who 
are  fleet  in  calculations,  and  let  them,  for  the  rest 
of  their  lives,  give  themselves  to  estimating  what 
shall  be  the  number  of  the  saved  ;  and  when  the 
pencils  are  all  worn  out,  and  the  paper  is  all  hlled 
wiih  columns  of  figures,  and  the  scribes  and  the 
mathematicians  of  all  the  earth  gi\e  up  the  work 
from  exhaustion,  the  numbers  they  have  calculated, 
compared  with  the  numbers  of  the  glorified,  will 
be  as  your  five  fingers  compared  with  the  stars  of 
heaven. 

On  ^ome  parade-day  you  have  taken  your  position 
at  the  corner  ol  the  street  to  see  a  procession  pass. 
For  hours  you  have  watched  them,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  there  would  be  no  end  to  the  passing  regiments, 
liut  if  you  should  take  your  po.-^ilion  in  a  street  of 
the  Celestial  City,  and  watch  the  passage  of  the 
hosts  ol  the  Redeemed,  you  might  stand  in  that  one 
place  for  a  thousand  years,  and  at  the  close  of  it 
know  that  there  had  not  yet  passed  before  you  more 
than  one  regiment  of  the  great  army  of  banners.  A 
general,  expecting  an  attack  from  the  enemy,  stands 
on  a  hill  and  looks  through  a  field-glass,  and  sees, 
in  the  great  distance,  multitudes  approaching,  bui 
has  no  idea  of  their  numbers.  He  says,  "  I  cannot 
tell  anything  about  them  ;  I  merely  know  that  there 
are  a  great  number."  And  so  John,  without  at- 
tempting to  count,  says,  "A  great  multitude,  that 
no  man  can  number.''  — lalma^e. 

14.  Recognition  of  friends  In  heaven. 

(2746.)  Vi  :he  mere  conception  of  the  reunion  of 
good  men  ir.  a  future  state  inlused  a  momentary  rap- 
ture into  the  mind  of  TuUy, — if  an  airy  speculation, 
for  iheie  is  icason  to  fear  it  had  little  hold  on  his 


convictions,  could  inspire  him  with  such  delight,— 
what  may  we  be  expected  to  feel  who  are  assured 
ol.  such  an  event  by  the  true  sayings  of  God!  1  low- 
should  we  rejoice  in  the  prospect,  the  certainty 
rather,  of  spending  a  blissful  eternity  with  tlxisf* 
whom  we  loved  on  earth  ;  of  seeing  them  emerge 
from  the  ruins  of  the  tomb  and  the  deeper  ruius  of 
the  fall,  not  only  uninjured,  but  refined  and  per- 
fected, "with  every  tear  wijied  from  their  eyes," 
standmg  before  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb  in 
white  robes  and  palms  in  their  hands,  oying  witn  a 
loud  voice,  Salvation  to  God  lliat  sirtdh  upon  the 
throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever!  What 
delight  will  it  afiord  to  renew  the  sweet  counsel  we 
have  taken  together,  to  recount  the  toils  of  combat 
and  the  labour  of  the  way,  and  to  approach,  not  the 
house,  but  the  throne,  of  God  in  company,  in  order 
to  join  in  the  symphonies  of  heavenly  voices,  and 
lose  ourselves  amid  the  splendour  and  fruitions  of 
the  beatific  vision  1        — Aobert  Hall,  1764-1831. 

(2747.)  What  matters  it  if  thou  art  not  happy  on 
earth  provided  thou  art  so  in  heaven?  Heaven 
may  have  happiness  as  utterly  unknown  to  us  as  the 
gi.t  of  vision  would  be  to  a  man  born  blind.  If  we 
consider  the  inlets  of  pleasure  from  five  senses  only, 
we  may  be  sure  that  the  same  Being  who  created  us 
could  have  given  us  five  hundred  if  He  pleased. 
Mutual  love,  pure  and  exalted,  founded  on  charms 
both  mental  and  corporeal,  as  it  constitutes  the 
highest  happiness  on  earth,  may,  for  anything  we 
know  to  the  contrary,  also  form  the  louest  happi- 
ness of  heaven.  And  it  would  appear  consonant 
with  the  administration  of  Providence  in  other 
matters  that  there  should  be  a  link  between  heaven 
and  earth  ;  for  in  all  cases  a  chasm  seems  to  be 
purposely  avoided;  ''^ prndento  Deo."  Thus  the 
material  world  has  its  links,  by  which  it  is  made 
to  shake  hands,  as  it  were,  with  the  vegetable — the 
vegetable  with  the  animal — the  animal  with  the 
intellectual — and  the  intellectual  with  what  we  may 
be  allowed  to  hope  of  tlie  angelic. 

— Colton,  1832. 

(2748.)  Some  have  doubted  whether  there  will 
be  recognition  in  heaven ;  there  is  no  room  for 
duubi,  (or  it  is  called  "my  lather's  house;"  and 
shall  nr>t  the  family  be  known  to  each  other? 

— Uptirgeon. 

(2749.)  I  look  and  wait  and  long  for  that  day 
when  all  Christians  shall  recognise  each  other. 

1  think  that  people  in  the  church  are  like  persons 
riding  in  a  stage  at  night.  For  hours  they  sit  side 
by  side  and  shoulder  to  shoulder,  not  being  able, 
in  the  darkness,  to  distinguish  one  another ;  but  at 
last,  when  day  breaks,  and  they  look  at  each  other, 
behold,  they  discover  that  they  are  friends,  and,  it 
may  be,  near  relations  ! 

So  we  are  riding,  I  think,  in  the  chariot  of  salva^ 
tion,  and  do  not  know  that  we  are  brethren,  though 
we  sit  shoulder  to  shoulder ;  but  as  the  millennial 
dav/n  comes  on,  we  shall  find  it  out.  I  have  great 
comfort  and  consolation  in  this  thought. 

— Beccher. 

15.  The  memories  of  heaven. 

(2750.)  The  "new  song"  is  a  conifttemorate  song. 
We  are  distinctly  told  that  it  makes  reference  to 
past  deliverances.  Oh  !  how  much  they  have  to 
sing  about.  They  sing  of  tb"  darkness  through 
which,  on  earth,  they  passed,  ana  it  is  a  night  song. 


HE  A  VEN. 


(  470  ; 


HEAVEN. 


That  one  was  killed  in  the  seven  days'  fight  before 
Richmond,  and  wiih  him  it  is  a  battle  song.  That 
one  was  starved  to  death  at  Belle  Isle,  and  with 
him  it  is  a  prison  song.  That  was  a  Christian 
sailor-boy  that  had  his  back  broken  on  the  ship's 
halyards,  and  with  him  it  is  a  sailor  s  song.  That 
one  was  burned  at  Smithfield,  and  with  him  it  is  a 
fire  song.  Oh  !  how  they  will  sing  of  floods  waded, 
of  fires  endured,  of  persecution  suffered,  of  grace 
extended.  Song  of  hail !  song  of  sword  !  song  of 
hot  lead  !  song  of  axe  !  As  when  the  organ-pipes 
peal  out  some  great  harmony  there  comes  occa- 
sionally the  sound  of  tlie  tremolante,  weeping 
through  the  cadences,  adding  exquisiteness  to  the 
performance  ;  so,  amidst  the  stupendous  acclaim  of 
the  heavenly  worshippers,  shall  come  tremulous 
remembrances  of  past  endurance,  adding  a  sweet- 
ness and  glory  to  the  triumphal  strain.  So  the 
glorified  mother  will  sing  of  the  cradle  that  death 
robbed  ;  and  the  enthroned  spirit  from  the  alms- 
house will  sing  of  a  life-time  of  want.  God  may 
wipe  away  all  tears,  but  not  the  memory  of  the  grief 
that  started  them.  — Talmage. 

16.  Degrees  of  glory. 

(2751.)  Like  as  sundry  vessels,  whereof  some  are 
bigger  and  some  less,  if  they  all  be  cast  into  the  sea, 
some  will  receive  more  water  and  some  less,  and 
yet  all  shall  be  full  and  no  want  in  any  :  so  like- 
wise, among  the  saints  of  God  in  heaven,  some  shall 
have  more  glory,  some  less,  and  yet  all,  without 
exception,  full  of  glory. 

— Cawdray,  1598-1664. 

(2752.)  In  heaven  we  cannot  suppose  the  con- 
dition of  any  one  saint  to  be  wanting  in  the  measure 
of  its  happiness.  Such  a  supposition  is  opposed  to 
the  idea  of  that  perfection  to  which  all  shall  attain. 
Nevertheless,  as  with  two  luminous  bodies,  each 
may  shine  in  perfection,  though  with  a  different 
splendour  and  intensity  ;  so  the  image  of  God  will 
shine  with  fuller  orbed  splendour  in  some  than  in 
others.  In  like  manner,  the  little  stream  and  the 
river  may  both  fill  their  channel,  while  the  one 
glides  in  simple  beauty,  and  the  other  rolls  its  ma- 
jestic waves  attracting  the  eyes  of  all  beholders. 
And  so  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect  shall  all 
be  beautiful,  but  some  shall  delight  with  the  per- 
fection of  beauty.  Salter. 

(2753-)  "There  is  a  great  difference  in  our 
capacities,"  observed  the  small  Jug  to  the  large 
Flagon  beside  it. 

"  A  good  deal  of  difference  in  our  measurement," 
answered  the  Flagon. 

"  I  suppose  that  all  I  can  contain,  if  poured  into 
you,  would  appear  very  little,"  said  the  Jug. 

"And  what  I  am  capable  of  holding  would  over- 
whelm you  for  certain,"  replied  the  other. 

"Truly  I  could  hold  but  a  small  measure  of 
your  fulness,"  said  the  Jug.  "But  I  have  this  to 
satisfy  me,  that  when  I  am  full  I  have  all  I  want ; 
and  you  yourself  when  filled  can  hold  no  more." 

God's  spiritual  temple  contains  vessels  of  various 
dimensions  ;  but  all  are  filled  with  the  same  Spirit 
from  the  communicable  fulness  of  Christ  ;  as  the 
prophet  describes,  "  Vessels  of  small  quantity,  from 
the  vessels  of  cups  even  to  all  vessels  of  flagons.' 
"To  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God,"  is  all 
that  saints  desire  ;  and  the  Lord  blesses  His  people 
with  the  exp^rien  5  of  His  love,   "both  small  and 


great.''  There  will  undoubtedly  be  degrees  in 
glory  ;  but  all  shall  be  full  of  joy  ;  and  he  that 
possesses  greatest  capacity  will  not  be  more  full  of 
God  than  he  that  left  the  world  a  babe  in  Christ. 

— Bowden. 

17.  Is  despised  by  the  ungodly. 

(2754.)  As  a  man  that  comes  into  America,  and 
sees  the  natives  regard  more  a  piece  of  glass,  01  an 
old  knife,  than  a  piece  of  gold,  may  think,  Suiely 
these  people  never  heard  of  the  worth  of  gold,  or 
el.se  they  would  not  exchange  it  for  toys  ;  so  a  man 
that  looked  only  upon  the  lives  of  most  men,  and 
did  not  hear  tlieir  contrary  confessions,  would  think 
either  these  men  never  heard  of  heaven,  or  else  tliey 
never  heard  of  its  excellency  and  glory  :  when, 
alas  !  they  hear  of  it  till  they  are  weary  of  hearing  ; 
and  it  is  offered  to  them  so  commonly,  thai  they 
are  tired  with  the  tidings,  and  cry  out  as  the  Israel- 
ites, "  Our  soul  is  dried  away,  because  there  is 
nothing  but  this  manna  before  our  eyes,"  and  as 
the  Indians,  who  live  among  the  golden  mines,  do 
little  regard  it,  but  are  weary  of  the  daily  toil  of 
getting  it,  when  other  nations  will  compass  the 
world,  and  venture  their  lives,  to  get  it  ;  so  we 
that  live  where  the  Gospel  groweth,  where  heaven 
is  urged  upon  us  at  our  doors,  and  the  manna 
falls  upon  our  tents,  do  little  regard  it,  and  wish 
these  mines  of  gold  were  farther  from  us,  that  we 
might  not  be  put  upon  the  toil  of  getting  it,  when 
some  that  want  it  would  be  glad  ol  it  upon  harder 
teims.  Surely,  though  the  resurrection  of  the 
body  and  life  everlasting  be  the  last  article  in  their 
creed,  it  is  not  the  least,  nor  therefore  put  last,  that 
it  should  be  last  in  their  desires  and  endeavours. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

18.  Is  forfeited  voluntarily. 

{2755.)  A  man  may  lose  the  good  things  of  this 
life  against  his  will  ;  but  if  he  loses  eternal  bless- 
ings, he  does  so  with  his  own  consent. 

—Augustine,  354-430. 

19.  The  difficulty  with  which  God  brings  us  to  it, 

(2756.)  We  are  like  little  children  strayed  from 
home,  and  God  is  now  fetching  us  home  ;  and  we 
are  ready  to  turn  into  any  house,  stay  and  play  with 
everything  in  our  way,  and  sit  down  on  every  green 
bank,  and  much  ado  there  is  to  get  us  home. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

20.  It  is  not  enough  merely  to  desire  to  reach  it. 

(2757)  We  have  depending  on  us  both  sides  of 
the  alternative  ;  both  falling  into  hell  and  obtaining 
the  kinL;dom.  "  /J  ye  be  zvilling,  and  will  hearken 
unto  Me,  ye  shall  eat  the  good  of  the  land." 
But  perhaps  one  will  say,  "  1  am  willing  (and  no 
one  is  so  void  of  understanding  as  not  to  be  will- 
ing) ;  but  to  will  is  not  sufficient  for  me."  Nay, 
but  it  is  sufficient,  if  thou  be  duly  willing,  and  do 
the  deeds  of  one  that  is  willing.  But  as  it  is,  thou 
art  not  greatly  willing.  And  let  us  try  this  in  other 
thinL^s,  if  it  seem  good.  For  tell  me:  lie  that 
would  marry  a  wife,  is  he  content  with  wishing? 
By  no  means ;  but  he  looks  out  for  women  to 
advance  his  suit,  and  requests  friends  to  keep 
watch  with  him,  and  gets  together  money. 

Again  :  The  merchant  is  not  content  with  sitting 
at  home  and  wishing,  but  he  first  hires  a  vessel, 
then  selects  sailors  and  rowers,  then  takes  up  money 
on  interest,  and  is  inquisitive  about  a  market  acd  a 
place  of  merchandise. 


HE  A  VEN. 


(    471     ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


Is  it  not.  then,  strange  for  men  to  show  them- 
selves so  much  in  earnest  about  earthly  things,  but 
that  when  they  are  to  make  a  venture  for  heaven, 
they  should  be  content  with  wishing  only  ?  Rather, 
I  should  say,  not  even  in  this  do  they  show 
themselves  properly  in  earnest.  For  he  that  wills 
a  thing  properly  as  he  ought,  puts  also  his 
hand  unto  the  means  which  lead  to  the  object  of 
his  desire.  Thus,  because  hunger  compels  thee  to 
take  nourishment,  thou  waitest  not  for  the  viands 
to  come  unto  thee  of  their  own  accord,  but  omit- 
test  nothing  to  gather  victuals  together.  So  in 
thirst  and  cold,  and  all  other  such  things,  thou  art 
industrious,  and  In  tliy  station,  to  take  care  of  the 
Ijody.  Now  do  this  in  respect  of  God's  kingdom, 
and  surely  thou  shall  obtain  it. 

—  Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(2758.)  Think  of  heaven  with  hearty  purposes 
and  peremptory  designs  to  get  thitlier. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

21.  It  should  be  the  supreme  object  of  our  life 
to  secure  It. 

(2759.)  If  a  man  were  assured  that  there  were 
made  lor  him  a  great  purchase  in  Spain,  Turkey,  or 
some  other  parts  more  remote,  would  he  not  adven- 
ture the  dangers  of  the  seas,  and  of  his  enemies  also, 
if  need  were,  that  he  might  come  to  the  enjoyment 
of  his  own?  Well,  behold  Jesus  Chri^t  hath  made 
a  purchase  for  us  in  heaven,  and  there  is  nothing 
required  on  our  parts,  but  that  we  will  come  and 
enjoy  it.  Why,  then,  should  we  refuse  any  pains,  or 
fear  anything  in  the  way?  Nay,  we  must  strive  to 
get  in ;  it  may  be  that  we  shall  be  pinclied  in 
the  entrance,  for  the  gate  is  straight  and  low,  not 
like  the  gates  of  princes, — lofty,  roo:ed,  and  arched, 
— so  that  we  must  be  fain  to  leave  our  wealth  be- 
hind us,  and  the  pleasures  of  this  life  behind  us  ; 
yet  enter  we  must,  though  we  leave  our  skins,  nay, 
our  very  lives,  behind  us  ;  for  the  purchase  that  is 
made  is  worth  ten  thousand  worlds  :  not  all  the 
silks  of  Persia,  not  all  the  spices  of  Eg\pt,  not  all 
the  gold  of  Ophr.r,  not  all  the  treasures  of  both 
Indies,  are  to  be  compared  to  it.  Who,  therelore, 
would  not  contend  for  such  a  bargain,  though  he 
sold  all  to  have  it?  — Adams,  1653. 

(2760.)  Let  Holiness  to  the  Lord  be  written 
upon  your  hearts  in  all  that  you  do.  Do  no  work 
which  you  cannot  entitle  God  to,  and  truly  say  He 
set  you  about  ;  and  do  nothing  in  the  world  for  any 
other  ultimate  end  than  to  please  and  glorify  and 
enjoy  Him.  And  remember  that  whatever  you  do 
must  be  done  as  a  means  to  these,  and  as  by  one 
tliat  is  that  way  going  on  to  heaven.  All  your 
labour  must  be  the  labour  of  a  traveller,  which  is 
all  for  his  journey's  end  ;  and  all  your  res]iect  of 
affection  to  place  or  thing  in  your  way,  must  be  in 
respect  to  you  attainment  of  the  end  ;  as  a  traveller 
loveth  a  good  way,  a  good  horse,  a  good  inn,  a  dry 
cloak,  or  good  company  ;  but  nothing  must  be  loved 
heie  as  your  end  or  home. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2761.)  We  may  rest  on  earth,  as  the  Ark  is  said 
to  have  rested  in  the  midst  of  Jordan  (Josh.  iii.  13). 
A  short  and  small  rest,  no  question  !  or  as  the 
angels  of  heaven  are  de>ired  to  turn  in  and  rest 
them  on  earth  (Gen.  xviii.  4).  They  would  have 
been  loth  to  hav«  taken  up  their  dwelling   there. 


Should  Israel  have  settled  his  rest  in  the  wildernesi 
among  serpents  and  enemies  and  weariness  and 
famine?  Should  Noah  have  made  the  ark  his 
home,  and  have  been  loth  to  come  forth  when  the 
waters  were  fallen?  Should  the  mariner  choose  his 
dwelling  on  the  sea,  and  settle  his  rest  in  tlie  midst 
of  rocks  and  sands  and  raging  tempests  ?  Though 
he  may  adventure  through  all  these  for  a  commodity 
of  worth,  yet  1  think  he  takes  it  not  for  his  rest. 
Should  a  soldier  rest  in  the  midst  of  fight,  when  he 
is  in  the  very  thickest  of  his  enemies  and  the  instru- 
ments of  death  compass  him  about?  I  think  he 
cares  not  how  soon  the  battle  is  over.  And  though 
he  may  adventure  upon  war  for  the  obtaining  of 
peace,  yet  I  hope  he  is  not  so  mad  as  to  lake  that 
instead  of  peace.  And  are  not  Christians  such 
travellers,  such  mariners,  such  soldiers?  Have  you 
not  feais  within  and  troubles  without?  Are  we 
not  in  the  thickest  of  continual  dangers?  We  can- 
nut  eat,  drink,  sleep,  labour,  pray,  hear,  confer,  &c., 
but  in  the  midst  of  snares  and  perils,  and  shall  we 
sit  down  and  rest  here?  O  Christian,  follow  thy 
work,  look  to  thy  danger,  hold  on  to  the  end  ;  win 
the  field  and  come  off  the  ground,  before  thou  think 
of  a  settling  rest.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2762.)  Love  puts  a  man    upon   the   use   of  all 

means  to  enjoy  the  thing  loved.  He  that  loves  the 
world,  how  active  is  he  !  He  will  break  his  peace 
and  sleep  for  it.  He  that  loves  honour,  what 
hazards  will  he  run  !  He  will  swim  to  the  throne 
in  blood.  Jacob  loved  Rachel,  and  what  would 
not  he  do,  though  it  were  serving  a  long  apprentice- 
ship for  obtaining  her?  Love  is  like  wings  to  the 
bird,  like  sails  to  the  ship  ;  it  carries  a  Christian 
full  sail  to  heaven.  Heaven  is  a  place  of  rest  and 
joy;  it  is  a  paradise,  and  will  you  not  love  it? 
Love  heaven,  and  you  cannot  miss  it  ;  love  breaks 
through  all  opposition, — it  takes  heaven  by  storm. 
Love,  though  it  labour,  is  never  weary. 

—  IV at  son,  1696. 

22.  This  is  not  Inconsistent  wltli  strict  attention 
to  the  ordinary  duties  of  life. 

(2763.)  A  stranger  has  his  prime  intention  home 
to  his  country,  and  what  he  does  in  the  way  is  in 
virtue  of  his  prime  intention,  though  he  does  not, 
in  every  particular  action,  think  of  it.  A  traveller 
when  he  rides  on  the  way  does  not  think  of  home 
in  every  step.  A^,  but  he  does  that  he  does  in 
virtue  of  his  prime  intention  when  he  first  set  out, 
and  calls  to  remembrance  ofttimes  as  he  goes  ;  he 
thinks  of  his  journey's  end.  And,  by  the  way,  I 
observe  this  note  of  some  weak  Christians  that  tliink 
they  are  not  heavenly-minded,  except  they  do  no- 
thing but  think  of  heaven  and  heavenly  things. 
This  is  but  a  weak  and  silly  conceit.  It  should  be 
our  thought  in  the  morning.  Our  t^ioughts  should 
open  with  that.  It  should  be  the  key  to  open  the 
morning,  the  thought  of  this  course  what  will 
become  of  us  ere  lung  in  heaven.  But  then  all 
that  we  do  should  be  in  virtue  and  strength  of  that 
prime  intention  to  please  God,  and  to  go  to  heaven. 
Though  we  think  not  alway  of  the  present  business, 
yet  it  is  good  as  much  as  may  be  to  quicken  oar 
endeavour.  — Sibbes,  1577- 1635. 

(2764.)  The  sea-birds  which  followed  our  vessel 
taught  an  important  lesson.  I  watched  their  beau- 
tiiul  motions — now  gently  floating  on  the  wind  with 
no  appaient  exertion,  now  flapping  their  wings  ia 


HE  A  VEN. 


(     472     ) 


HEA  VEN. 


upward  flight,  now  descending  to  catch  from  the 
crest  of  a  wave  the  food  tluown  from  the  ship,  now 
outstripping  the  wind  to  recover  the  distance  lost, 
now  wheeling  with  gracefid  curve  to  the  right  and 
left,  and  ever  crossing  and  recrossing  each  other  as 
if  in  harmonious  and  joyful  dance.  Watching  them 
one  forgot  that  they  had  any  other  motion.  Vet  all 
the  while  they  were  travelling  onwards  with  the 
ship  at  the  rate  of  fourteen  knots  an  hour.  Those 
motions  amongst  themselves  did  not  for  a  moment 
suspend  their  steady  progressive  flight  across  the 
deep,  nor  did  that  progressive  flight  with  the  ship 
prevent  those  lesser  activities  of  their  own.  True 
type  of  the  Christian.  There  are  objects  of  the  pre- 
sent life  which  we  should  seeh,  pleasures  which  we 
should  enjoy,  and  duties  to  ourselves  and  one  anoiher 
which  we  should  discharge.  True  religion  does  not 
require  us  to  abnegate  any  part  of  our  nature,  nor 
does  the  pursuit  of  the  future  demand  the  neglect  of 
the  present.  The  flight  of  a  bird  straight  acioss  the 
ocean  in  one  unvarying  line  would  not  have  been  so 
beautiful,  would  not  have  displayed  so  much  activity 
or  required  so  much  strength,  as  the  varied  motions 
of  those  sea-gulls.  The  life  of  the  monk  or  nun 
who  retires  from  the  secular  duties  of  the  present 
life  is  not  so  beautiful,  is  not  so  Christian,  does  not 
require  so  much  grace,  does  not  indicate  so  high  a 
degree  of  piety,  as  that  of  the  man  or  woman,  dili- 
gent in  the  duties  of  the  state,  of  the  exchange,  of 
the  workshop,  of  the  family, — with  cares  of  business, 
cares  of  children,  claims  of  neighbourhood  and 
friends — who  yet,  amidst  all,  is  making  steady  pro- 
gress heavenward  ;  now  stooping  for  food,  now 
soaring  in  thankfulness,  now  sweeping  hither  and 
thither  in  the  exercise  of  Cod-given  faculties,  and 
ever  with  friendly  heart  mingling  in  beautilul  har- 
mony with  the  kindred  flight  of  others — yet  in  every 
one  of  these  motions,  regulated  by  the  concurrent 
and  all-controlling  flight  onwards,  ever  onwards  to 
the  desired  haven.  Some  there  are  whose  lives 
resemble  the  flight  of  birds  around  a  ship  at  anchor. 
They  go  up  and  down,  and  round  and  roimd,  yet 
their  locality  is  unchanged.  Their  lives  may  be 
active  and  beautilul,  but  they  make  no  progress 
heavenward.  They  are  no  nearer  port.  The  Chris- 
tian abstains  from  all  that  is  sinful  rnd  vain  in  this 
world;  but  in  diligent  exercise  of  his  varied  faculties, 
the  performance  of  earthly  duties,  and  the  enjoy- 
jient  of  social  and  domestic  delights,  he  resembles 
others.  But  here'  is  the  difference — he  is  all  the 
while  speeding  his  flight  onwards  towards  God, 
while  they  are  ever  circling  round  themselves.  Oh 
for  grace  to  be  thus,  "  in  the  woild  and  not  of  tiie 
world," — to  be  performing  diligently  and  cheerfully 
our  part  in  the  present  life — yet  ever  pressing  to- 
wards our  eternal  rest.  Newman  Hall. 

23.  Shut  out  at  last  I 

(2765.)  Several  years  ago  we  heard  an  old  minister 
relate  the  following  incident  : — "He  had  preached 
the  word  for  many  a  year  in  a  wood  hard  by  a 
beautiful  village  in  the  Inverness-shire  Highlands, 
and  it  was  his  invariable  custom,  on  dismissing  his 
own  congregation,  to  repair  to  the  Baptist  Chapel 
in  this  village  to  partake  of  the  Lord  s  Supper  with 
his  people  assembled  there.  It  was  then  usual  to 
shut  tlie  gates  during  this  service,  in  o'der  that 
communicants  might  not  be  exposed  to  any  disturb- 
ance through  persons  going  out  or  coming  in.  On 
one  occasion  the  burden  of  the  Lord  pressied  upon 
liis  servant  with  uvJre  than  ordinary  severity,  and, 


anxious  to  deliver  it  and  clear  his  soul,  he  detained 
his  hearers  a  little  beyond  the  time,  and  conse- 
quently had  to  hurry  to  the  chapel.  As  he  drew 
near  he  noticed  the  doorkeeper  retire  from  the 
outer  gate,  after  having  shut  it.  \\f.  called  to  him, 
quickening  his  pace  at  the  same  time,  but  his  cry 
was  not  heard,  the  attendant  retreated  inside  and 
the  minister  came  up  'just  in  time'  to  see  the  door 
put  to,  and  hear  it  fastened  from  within.  He 
walked  round  the  chapel  looking  up  at  the  windows, 
but  could  gain  no  admittance  ;  there  was  only  one 
door,  and  that  door  was  shut.  He  listened  and 
heard  the  singing,  and  thought  how  happy  God's 
people  were  inside,  while  he  himself  was  shut  out. 
The  circumstance  made  an  impression  upon  him  at 
the  time'  which  he  could  never  afterwards  forget, 
and  he  was  led  to  ask  himself  the  question,  'Shall 
it  be  so  at  the  last?  Shall  1  come  up  to  the  gate  of 
heaven  only  in  time  to  be  too  late,  to  find  the  last 
ransomed  one  admitted,  and  the  door  everlastingly 
shut  ? '  "  — Spurgeon, 

24.  To  be  made  a  topic  of  frequent  meditation. 

(2766.)  A  heavenly  mind  is  a  joyful  mind  :  this 
is  the  nearest  and  the  truest  way  to  live  a  life  of 
comfort.  And  without  this,  you  must  needs  be  un- 
comfortable. Can  a  man  be  at  the  fire,  and  not  be 
warm  ;  or  in  the  sunshire,  and  not  have  light? 
Can  your  heart  be  in  heaven,  and  not  have  comfort? 
The  countries  of  Norway,  Iceland,  and  all  *he 
northwaril  are  cold  and  frozen,  because  they  are 
farther  from  the  power  of  the  sun  ;  but  in  Eg7pt, 
Arabia,  and  the  southern  parts  it  is  far  otherwise, 
where  they  live  more  near  its  powerful  rays. 
What  could  make  such  frozen,  uncomfortable 
Christians,  but  living  so  far  as  they  do  from  heaven  ? 
And  what  makes  some  few  others  so  warm  in  com- 
forts, but  their  living  higher  than  others  do,  and 
their  frequent  access  so  near  to  God  ?  When  the  sun 
in  the  s])ring  draws  near  our  part  of  the  earth,  how 
do  all  things  congratulate  its  approach  1  The  earth 
looks  green,  and  casteth  off  her  mourning  habit  : 
the  trees  shoot  forth  ;  the  plants  revive  ;  the  pretty 
birds,  how  sweetly  do  they  sing  !  The  face  ot  all 
things  smiles  upon  us,  and  all  the  creatures  below 
rejoice.  Beloved  friends,  if  we  would  but  try  this 
life  with  God,  and  would  but  keep  these  hearts 
above,  what  a  spring  of  joy  would  be  within  us  ; 
and  all  our  graces  be  fresh  and  green  !  How 
would  the  face  of  our  souls  be  changed,  and  all 
that  is  within  us  rejoice  !  How  should  we  forget 
our  winter  sorrows,  and  withdraw  our  souls  from 
our  sad  retirements  !  I  tow  early  should  we  rise 
(as  those  birds  in  the  spring)  to  sing  the  praise  of 
our  great  Creator !  O  Christian  !  get  above  ;  be- 
lieve it,  that  region  is  warmer  than  this  below. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2767.)  The  honouring  of  God  and  our  Redeemer 
doth  require  that  we  daily  converse  with  the  saints 
in  heaven  ;  because  it  is  in  them  that  God  is  seen, 
in  the  greatest  glory  of  His  love  ;  and  it  is  in  them 
that  the  power  and  efficacy  and  love  of  our  dear 
Redeemer  most  appeareth.  You  judge  now  of  the 
father  by  his  children,  and  of  the  physician  by  his 
patients,  and  of  the  builder  by  the  house,  and  of 
the  captain  by  his  victories.  And  if  you  see  no 
better  children  of  God  than  such  childish,  crying, 
feeble,  froward,  diseased,  burdensome  ones  as  we 
are,  you  will  rob  Him  of  the  chief  of  this  His  hon- 
our.    And  if  you  look  at  none  of  the  patients  of  our 


HE  A  VEN. 


(    473 


HE  A  VEN. 


Saviour  but  such  lame  and  languid,  pained,  groan- 
ir.e,  diseased,  half-cured  ones  as  we,  you  will  rob 
Him  of  the  glory  of  His  skill  and  cures.  And  if 
you  look  but  to  such  an  imperfect  broken  fabric 
as  the  Church  on  earth,  you  will  dishonour  the 
builder.  And  if  you  look  to  no  other  victories  of 
Christ  aiid  His  Spirit,  but  what  is  made  in  this 
confused,  dark,  and  bedlam  world,  you  will  be 
tempted  to  dishonour  His  conduct  and  His  con- 
quests. But  if  you  will  look  to  His  children  in 
heaven,  who  are  perfected  in  His  love  and  likeness, 
and  to  Christ's  patients  which  are  there  perfectly 
cured,  and  to  His  building  in  the  heavenly  unity 
and  glory,  and  to  all  His  victories  as  there  com- 
plete; then  you  will  give  Him  the  glory  which  is 
His  due.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2768.)  Another  help  to  sweeten  thy  soul  with 
the  foretastes  of  rest,  is  this  labour  to  apprehend 
how  near  it  is ;  think  seriously  of  its  speedy 
approach.  That  which  we  think  is  near  at  hand, 
we  are  more  sensible  of  than  tiiat  which  we  behold 
at  a  distance.  When  we  hear  of  war  or  famine 
in  another  country,  it  troubleth  us  not  so  much  ;  or 
if  we  hear  it  prophesied  of  a  long  time  hence  :  so  if 
we  hear  of  plenty  a  great  way  off,  or  of  a  golden 
age  that  shall  fall  out  who  knows  when,  this  never 
rejoiceih  us.  But  if  judgments  or  mercies  begin  to 
draw  near,  then  tluy  afllct  us.  If  we  were  sure  we 
should  see  the  golden  age,  then  it  would  take  with 
us.  When  the  plague  is  in  a  town  but  twenty 
miles  otif,  we  do  not  fear  it  ;  nor  much,  perhaps,  if  it 
be  in  ancther  street  :  but  if  once  i*.  come  to  the  next 
door,  or  if  it  seize  on  one  in  our  own  family,  then 
"ive  begin  to  think  on  it  more  feelingly.  It  is  so 
with  mercies  as  well  as  judgments.  When  they  are 
far  off,  we  talk  of  them  as  marvels  ;  but  when  they 
draw  close  to  us,  we  rejoice  in  them  as  truths. 

— Baxter,  16 1 5- 1 69 1. 

(2769.)  A  true  saint  every  day  takes  a  turn  in 
heaven,  his  thoughts  and  desires  are  like  cherubims 
flying  up  to  paradise.  Can  men  of  the  w^rld  so 
delight  in  looking  upon  their  bags  of  gold,  and  fields 
of  corn,  and  shall  not  the  heirs  of  heaven  take  more 
delight  in  contemplating  their  glory  in  reversion? 
Could  we  send  forth  Faith  as  a  spy,  and  every  day 
view  the  glory  of  the  Jerusalem  above,  how  would 
it  rejoice  us,  as  it  doth  the  lieir  to  think  of  the  in- 
heritance which  is  to  come  into  his  hand  shortly. 
—  Watson,  1696. 

(2770.)  I  have  noticed,  when  watching  artists  at 
»  their  work,  that  they  are  sometimes  accustomed  to 
put  coloured  pebble-stones  on  their  easel,  and  once 
in  a  while  to  take  them  up  and  look  at  them  ;  and 
I  said,  "What  is  that  for?"  They  said,  "In 
working  pamts  into  tints,  the  eye  gets  down,  and  it 
is  necessary  to  have  some  colour  at  hand  to  tone  it 
up  with,  in  order  to  be  able  to  distinguish  nice 
shades." 

Kow,  heaven  is  that  place  which  we  have  been 
accustomed  to  regard  as  the  centre  of  all  that  is  per- 
fect ;  and  we  have  day  by  tlay  and  month  by  month, 
been  remitting  there  our  ideal  conceptions  of  every- 
thing that  is  beautiful  and  true  and  honourable  and 
noble  and  loving  ;  and  we  have  gained  a  standard, 
at  least  of  what  character  ought  to  be  ;  and  we 
bring  that  do.wn  to  tone  up  our  eye  with  in  this 
W)rlcl.  livery  day  we  are  among  people  that  are 
highly  temptable,  that  are  lax,  that  an    stumbling, 


that  are  sometimes  hateful,  and  that  are  but  just 
lovely  at  the  best  of  times  ;  and  we  become  worn, 
weakened,  jaded,  and  depraved  by  this  commerce 
with  ihe  world.  We  want  to  lift  the  mind  up,  so 
that  we  may  get  a  conception  of  the  possibilities  of 
being  and  character  higher  than  we  have  found  in 
this  world  ;  and  we  are  to  get  it  by  setting  our 
affections  on  things  above. 

Heaven  answers  with  us  the  same  purpose  that 
the  tuning-fork  does  with  the  musician.  Our  affec- 
tion-, tlie  whole  orchestra  of  them,  are  apt  to  get 
below  the  concert-pitch  ;  and  we  take  heaven  to 
tune  our  hearts  by.  In  this  way,  instead  of  making 
the  heavenly  state  a  romance-ground,  we  are  every 
day  framing  it  by  the  imagination,  and  ascribing  to 
it  all  our  higher  and  nobler  and  finer  itleals,  and 
then  taking  this  state  and  bringing  it  down  to  mea- 
sure our  daily  life  by.  And  so,  instead  of  taking 
us  away  from  the  duties  of  life,  it  brings  us  back  to 
them  with  renewed  strength,  with  better  moral  dis- 
crimations,  with  more  patience,  more  gentleness, 
and  more  hope.  — Beecher, 

25.  The  Influence  of  the  hope  of  heaven. 

(2771.)  The  slaves  that  serve  the  Turks  in  theu 
galleys,  if  they  could  but  think  that,  at  seven  years' 
end,  some  Christian  would  come  and  redeem  them, 
would  be  better  affected  and  tug  at  the  oar  with 
more  cheerfulness,  especially  if  they  could  be 
assured  of  their  delivery.  If  Jacob  serve  the  churl 
Laban  seven  years  longer,  if  he  think  he  shall  have 
Rachel  at  the  end  of  it,  it  will  be  but  as  seven  days, 
and  he  goes  on  with  comfort  and  is  content  that 
(jod  shall  use  him  to  His  hand  as  it  pleaseth  llim. 
Thus  it  is  that  the  hope  of  better  things  sueeteneth 
the  present  sadness  of  any  outward  couilition. 
There  is  no  grief  so  heavy  but,  if  a  man  tie  heaven 
at  the  end  of  it,  it  will  become  light  ;  but  put  them 
together,  and  the  one  will  be  swallowed  up  in  the 
other.  If  the  times  be  bad,  hope  for  better,  the 
expectation  whereof  will  be  an  excellent  lenitive  to 
allay  the  smart  of  present  calamity. 

— Alphonsus  ab  Avendano,  1590. 

(2772.)  As  a  man  passing  through  a  very  swift 
flood,  doth  not  look  down  to  the  water,  lest  it 
should  make  him  giddy,  and  so  he  be  in  danger  of 
falling,  but  he  hath  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  bank  or  shore 
that  he  goeth  over  unto  :  even  so  a  Christian,  passing 
through  the  waves  of  the  troubles  of  this  world, 
liftelh  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  beholding  there, 
with  a  spiritual  regard,  the  quiet  bank  that  he  shall 
come  to  by  Christ,  respecteth  not  the  troubles  that 
he  is  in,  which  troubles  the  wicked  do  respect,  and 
that  is  it  that  casteth  them  into  desperation. 

— Cawdray,  1 609. 

(2773.)  Travellers  tell  us  that  they  that  are  on 
'.he  top  of  the  Alps  may  see  great  showers  of  rain 
fall  under  them,  which  they  overlook,  but  not  one 
drop  of  it  comes  at  them.  And  he  that  is  on  the 
top  of  some  high  tower  mindeth  not  the  croaking 
of  frogs  and  toads,  the  hissing  of  serpents,  adders, 
and  the  like  venomous  creatures  that  are  below. 
Thus,  a  heavenly-minded  man,  who  dv/ells  in 
heaven  on  earth,  looks  through  and  beyond  all 
troubles  and  afflictions,  rides  triumphantly  through 
the  storm  of  disparagements — nay,  he  boldly  stares 
Death  in  the  face,  though  never  so  ugly  disguised. 
As  Anaxarchus  said  to  the  tyrant,  "  'I'unde,  luvde, 
Auaxarchuia  non  tundis"  beat  him  and  bruise  him 


HE  A  VEN. 


(     474    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


aind  kill  him  it  may,  but  he  will  keep  up  his  soul  in 
the  very  ruins  of  his  body.  — Spencer,  1 658. 

(2774.)  Especially  dwell  by  faith  in  heaven  where 
lo~e  is  perlect,  and  tliere  you  will  learu  more  of  the 
work  of  love.  To  think  believingly  that  mutual  love 
is  heaven  itself,  and  that  this  is  our  union  wiih  God 
ar.d  Christ  and  all  the  holy  ones,  and  that  love 
will  be  an  everlasting  felicity,  this  will  breed  in  us 
a  desire  to  bei;iii  that  happy  life  on  earth.  And  as 
he  that  henretli  excellent  music  will  long  to  draw 
near,  and  join  in  the  concert  or  the  pleasure  ;  so  he 
that  by  faith  doth  dwell  much  in  heaven,  and  hear 
how  angtls  and  blessed  souls  do  there  praise  God 
in  the  highest  fervours  of  rejoicing  love,  will  be  in- 
clined to  imitate  them,  and  long  to  jiartake  of  their 
felicity.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2775.)  The  believer's  feelings  are  those  of  an 
exile,  who,  amidst  various  comforts,  still  thinks  of 
his  home,  his  country,  and  his  friends.  The  hope 
of  his  return  gilds  the  intermediate  hours  of  his 
existence  ;  he  fultils  his  duty,  he  refreshes  his  spirit, 
by  the  objects  of  beauty  or  of  interest  which  are 
around  him,  but  his  affections  cling  around  his 
native  shores.  To  that  unforgotten  scene  the 
needle  of  his  heart  turns  hourly.  Thus  it  is  with  the 
Christian  on  whom  the  mercy  of  God  is  exerting 
its  sacred  and  purifying  influence.  Religion  is  to 
him,  not  the  cold  balance  of  certain  restrictions  and 
certain  comforts,  but  the  warm  acknowledgments 
of  infinite  obligations  and  infinite  love.  It  is  the 
blessed  and  refieshing  conviction  that  yet  a  little 
while,  and  the  veil  which  hides  him  from  his  true 
happiness  will  be  withdrawn  ;  that  yet  a  little  while, 
and  the  Saviour,  into  whose  hands  he  has  confided 
the  great  interests  of  his  soul,  will  return. 

— Salter, 

(2776.)  The  fact  respecting  a  strong  though 
rational  direction  in  the  mind  of  man  toward 
heavenly  things,  however  it  may  raise  suspicion  in 
those  who  have  not  felt  it,  is  unquestionable  among 
s-ach  as  have.  To  illustrate  the  subject  : — I  see  a 
small  bar  of  steel  in  the  lid  of  a  box  now  before  me. 
I  see  it  tremble,  as  if  undetermined,  yet  keep  a 
certain  direction.  I  can  cause  it  to  deviate  from  its 
point  ly  impulse ;  but,  though  I  can  disturb  its 
natural  direction,  I  cannot  give  it  a  new  one.  Nay, 
this  very  disturbance  will  still  more  fully  discover 
its  inclination ;  it  will  put  it  upon  labouring  to 
recover  its  point  :  if  I  cease  to  agitate,  it  will  soon 
cease  to  vibrate,  and  will  return  to  its  j^roper  rest. 
Of  this  I  am  clearly  conscious  ;  but  I  am  not  more 
conscious  of  this  fact  than  I  am  of  another,  of  which 
the  former  may  stand  as  an  emblem.  Thousands, 
as  well  as  myself,  know  that  the  polar  direction 
of  the  steel  is  not  more  a  matter  of  fact  in  the 
natural  world  than  the  heavenly  direction  they  feel 
is  a  fact  in  the  moral  world,  and  that  a  disposition 
o^ten  observed  in  men  who  were  once  the  most 
reprobate — to  "live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly 
in  this  present  world,"  is  the  proper  effect  of  this 
influence.  — Cecil,  174S-1S10. 

(2777.)  Enough  of  heaven  is  known  to  make  the 
confident  hope  of  it  one  of  the  greatest  purifying 
powers  that  you  can  bring  to  bear  upon  our  polluted 
natures.  Heaven  is  far  away,  but  not  too  iar  away 
to  make  its  power  felt.  All  of  us  here  have  seen 
the  eVb  and  flow  of  the  tide.  \Ve  know  what  a 
wondrous  provision  that  is  in  nature,  what  a  service 


that  tide  renders  to  commerce,  how  it  keeps  the 

great  bed  of  the  waters  of  the  sea  from  stagnation 
and  corruption.  At  one  time  we  see  the  waters 
rolling  seaward  and  westward,  bearing  on  its  bosom 
all  who  vv'ish  to  go  in  that  direction,  and  presently 
we  see  it  turning  round  and  flowing  eastward  and 
seaward,  bearing  all  who  wish  to  go  in  that  direc- 
tion. If  you  and  1  had  power  to  stop  the  tidal 
motion  of  the  waters,  and  were  to  exercise  that 
power,  we  cannot  tell  the  mischief  we  should  inflict 
on  thousands  of  cities,  whilst  we  should  ruin  not 
a  few.  And  I  ask  you  where  is  the  power  that 
produces  this  tidal  motion?  The  winds  do  not 
accomplish  it ;  the  earth  nowhere  carries  the  power 
in  her  own  bosom  ;  the  power  is  far  away.  A 
quarter  of  a  million  of  miles  away  the  moon  walks 
across  the  sky  in  her  unsullied  brightness.  There 
is  the  first  depository  of  tiie  great  power  by  which 
God  makes  this  tidal  motion  in  the  waters.  Farther 
away  the  sun  burns  in  his  brightness  and  splendour, 
and  there  is  the  second  great  depository  that  makes 
this  useful  and  wondrous  tidal  motion.  These 
heavenly  bodies  seem  to  reach  through  the  inter- 
vening space,  and  with  a  hand  of  gravitating  (_ower 
take  hold  of  the  waters  on  the  face  of  the  earth  and 
lift  them  up  towards  themselves.  This  teaches  us 
that  in  God's  universe  one  world  is  made  to  tell 
with  practical  power  upon  another  world.  The 
work,  the  blessed  work,  may  be  done  here,  and  the 
power  that  does  it  may  be  as  far  away  as  the  third 
heaven.  And  what  we  see  in  nature  is  what  our 
text  tells  us  is  to  take  place  in  the  kingdom  of  His 
grace.  Heaven  is  far  away,  but  the  life  we  are  to 
have  in  heaven  is  to  be  telling  with  daily  power 
upon  the  life  we  live  upon  the  earth.  What  1  am 
to  be  there,  is  to  influence  me  every  day  in  what  1 
do  liere  ;  what  you  are  to  be  there,  is  to  influence 
you  every  day  in  what  you  are  here.  — Vince. 

(2778.)  Paul  had  established  in  his  mind  such  a 
clear  conviction  of  the  invisible  world,  of  the  state 
of  the  redeemed  beyond  tliis  life,  that  it  had  become 
a  refuge  to  him  (2  Cor.  iv.  16,  v.  8).  This  world 
could  not  touch  him.  He  had  the  power  of  losing 
himself  in  that  other  world.  He  had  a  spiritual 
antithesis  of  sleep.  We,  every  day,  know  how  to 
hide  ourselves  from  care  and  trouble  by  sinking  into 
sleep.  Men  are  like  a  traveller  in  a  wilderness  pur- 
sued by  wolves.  He  scares  them,  he  kills  some,  he 
wounds  others,  he  keeps  them  at  bay  ;  and  yet  they 
hang  on  and  howl,  and  run  in  at  chances  with  snap- 
ping and  yelping,  until  at  length  he  espies  a  cave 
whose  mouth  is  narrow  and  easily  barred  ;  and,  enter- 
ing, h.e  blocks  the  passage  ;  and  retiring  far  back,  , 
secure,  beyond  the  sound  of  his  enemies,  he  lies  down 
in  the  cool  and  dry  cavern,  with  full  security  from  the 
pestering,  dangerous  pack.  Every  day  we  are  hunted, 
and  every  night  we  find  the  cave  of  sleep,  and  all  our 
cares  are  baffled,  though  they  lie  in  ambush  waiting 
for  the  morrow.  But  we  know  how  10  find  the  dark 
caves,  and  there  we  elude  all  our  pursuers.  But 
Paul  had  a  cave  for  the  day,  as  well  as  for  the  night. 
By  faith  he  rose  into  the  bright  and  heavenly  sphere, 
and  left  troubles  barking  and  baulked  far  down 
below.  — Beecher. 

(2779.)  A  minister  of  the  Gospel  was  one  day 
visiting  a  pious  old  woman  who  was  in  the  poor- 
house.  While  in  conversation  with  her  on  the  com- 
forts, prospects,  and  rewards  of  religion,  the  ministei 
saw  an  unusual  lustre  beaming  from  her  counten- 


HE  A  VEN. 


(     \7^    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


»nce,  and  the  calmness  of  Christian  triumph  glisten- 
ing lii  ner  eye.     Addressing  her  by  name,  he  saiil  : 

"  Will  yoi  tell  me  what  thought  it  was  that  passed 
through  you-  mind  which  was  the  cause  of  your 
appearing  so  joyful  ? " 

The  repiy  of  the  "old  disciple"  was,  "Oh,  sir,  I 
■was  just  thinking  what  a  change  it  will  be  from  the 
poorhouse  to  heaven  1 " 

26.  The  ardour  wltb  whlcli  the  Christian  lonffs 
for  it. 

(27S0.)  Even  as  a  little  bird  shut  up  in  a  cage, 
although  the  cage  be  very  precious  and  costly,  de- 
sireth  to  go  out,  and  striveth  to  have  her  lil)erty, 
and  in  her  eager  desire  to  be  gone  doth  oftentimes 
thrust  her  bill  through  the  loo])s  of  the  cage  ;  so  the 
soul  of  a  virtuous  man,  inflamed  witii  an  unfeigned 
love  of  God,  being  shut  up  in  the  coop  of  his  body, 
although  he  abound  with  all  necessaries  fit  for  the 
preservation  of  this  temporal  life,  doth  most  earnestly 
desire  to  depart  hence  and  go  to  his  country,  which 
is  heaven.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(2781.)  If  a  loving  wife's  husband  be  absent  in 
some  far  country,  thoagh  she  have  by  messengers 
and  by  letters  some  communion  with  him,  yet  this 
will  not  satisfy  ;  there  is  a  great  desire  to  see  him, 
to  be  each  in  the  embrace  of  the  other  :  so  it  should 
be  with  us.  The  letter  of  His  word,  the  recourse  of 
His  messengers,  should  rather  excite  desires  fully  to 
enjoy  our  God  than  occasion  us  to  rest  contented 
in  this  present  condition.  I  remember  Absalom, 
when  he  was  now  recalled  from  exile,  but  not 
admitted  to  see  his  father's  face  at  court,  he  was  so 
impatient  that  his  exile  seemed  almost  as  easy  ns 
such  a  condition.  Thus  it  is  with  us  :  fiom  what 
time  God  has  brought  us  to  believe,  we  are  called 
back  again  fiom  our  exile  spiritual  to  the  Church  or 
city  of  ourGod;  but,  alas  !  we  are  notadniitted  intothe 
court,  into  the  glorious  presence  of  our  great  Lord. 
Let  us,  ei'go,  il  we  be  risen  with  Christ,  groan  after 
this  prerogative,  to  which  God  has  chosen  us,  and 
take  no  delight  to  dwell  here  further  than  the 
serving  God  in  His  saints  sweetens  our  abode. 

— Bayne,  1617. 

(27S2.)  As  the  fire  mounteth  upwards  to  its 
proper  place,  and  as  the  neeiile  still  trembleth  till 
It  stand  at  the  north  ;  so  the  soul  once  inilamed 
with  the  heavenly  fire,  and  acquainted  with  her 
first  original,  cannot  be  at  rest  until  it  find  itself  in 
that  comfortable  way  which  certainly  leads  home- 
wards. — Sibbes,  1 577-1635. 

(2783. )  There  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between 
the  desires  of  heaven  in  a  sanctified  man  and  an 
unsanctified.  The  believer  prizeth  it  above  earth, 
and  had  rather  be  with  God  than  here  (though 
death  that  stands  in  the  way,  may  possilily  have 
harder  thoughts  from  him).  But  to  the  ungodly, 
there  is  nothing  seemeth  more  desirable  than  this 
world  ;  and  therefore  he  only  chooseth  heaven  be- 
fore hell,  but  not  before  earth  ;  and  therefore  shall 
not  have  it  upon  such  a  choice.  We  hear  of  gold 
and  silver  mines  in  the  Indies  :  if  you  offer  a  golden 
mountain  there  to  an  Englishman  that  hath  an  estate 
and  family  here  that  are  dear  unto  him,  perhaps 
he  will  say,  ''I  am  uncertain  whether  their  golden 
mountains  be  not  mere  fictions  to  deceive  men  ;  and 
if  it  be  true  that  there  are  such  things,  yet  it  is  a 
great  way  thither,  and  the  seas  are  perilous  ;  and  I 
am  well  enough  already  where  1  am,  and  therefore 


let  who  will  go  thither  for  me,  I  will  stay  at  home 
as  long  as  I  can."  But  if  this  man  must  needs  be 
banished  out  of  England,  and  iiad  his  choice  whether 
he  would  go  to  the  golden  islands,  or  to  dig  in  a 
coal-pit,  or  live  in  a  wilderness,  he  would  rather 
choose  the  better  than  the  worse.  So  it  is  wi'h  an 
ungodly  man's  desires,  in  respect  to  this  woriJ  and 
that  to  come.  If  he  could  stay  here,  in  fleshy 
pleasure  for  ever,  he  would  ;  because  he  looks  at 
heaven  as  unceitain  and  a  great  way  off,  and  the 
passage  seemeth  to  him  more  troublesome  and  dan- 
gerous than  it  is,  and  he  is  where  he  would  be 
already.  But  when  he  sees  that  there  is  no  staying 
here  for  ever,  but  death  will  have  him  away,  he  had 
rather  go  to  heaven  than  to  hell,  and  therefore  will 
be  religious,  as  far  as  the  flesh  and  the  world  will 
give  him  leave,  lest  he  should  be  cast  into  hell  when 
he  is  taken  froin  the  earth. 

But  take  an  Englishman  that  is  in  poverty  and 
reproach,  and  hath  neither  house  nor  land,  ncr 
friend  to  comfort  him,  and  let  him  have  the  offer  of 
a  golden  island,  and  a  person  of  unquestionable 
skilfulness  and  fidelity  that  will  promise  in  short 
time  to  biing  him  safe  thither ;  if  he  believe  thii 
person,  and  can  put  his  trust  in  him,  doubtless  he 
will  be  gone  and  follow  him  over  sea  and  land  ; 
and  though  the  passage  may  somewhat  daunt  him, 
yet  the  promised  possession  will  carry  him  through 
all.  So  it  is  with  the  true  Christian  :  he  is  dead  to 
this  world,  and  sees  nothing  here  in  which  he  can 
be  happy  ;  he  is  burdened  and  wearied  with  sin  and 
suffering  ;  he  is  firmly  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  the 
Gospel,  and  seeth  by  faith  the  world  that  is  to  flesh 
invisible;  and  believeth  in  Jesus  Christ  who  hath 
promised  to  convey  him  safely  thither,  and  there- 
fore he  would  go  away  ;  and  though  he  love  r^Dt 
death,  the  stormy  passage,  yet  he  \\  ill  submit  to  it, 
having  so  sure  a  pilot,  because  he  loves  the  life 
which  through  death  he  must  pass  into,  and  had 
rather  be  there  than  here. 

— Baxter,  161 5- 169 1. 

(2784.)  Conceive  the  case  of  a  man,  who,  having 
been  cast  upon  a  dreary  inhospitable  island,  awaits 
the  time  for  a  vessel  to  come  and  bear  him  away. 
He  paces  its  barren  and  desert  sands,  and  looks  up 
at  the  overcast  sky,  anxiously  waiting  for  its  arrival 
to  carry  him  to  a  land  of  light  and  fertility.  So  the 
Christian,  like  the  exile  on  a  rock,  feels  that  he  is 
far  froin  his  natural  home,  and  is  looking  for,  and 
hasting  unto  the  day  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He 
knows  that  the  vessel  is  prepared,  and  the  convoy 
ready,  which  are  to  bear  him  hence  from  a  Warren 
wilderness  to  a  happy  land  flowing  with  milk  and 
honey.  — Salter. 

(2785.)   When    on    one    occasion    a    crowd   of 

crusaders  approached  the  Holy  City,  and  caught 
the  first  sight  of  its  spires  and  turrets  through  the 
blue  luminous  tremors  of  the  distance,  some  knelt 
in  silent  ]iraise,  some  kissed  the  earth,  some  prayed 
and  laughed  and  wept  in  wild  emotion  ;  and  knight 
and  palmer,  old  man  and  little  child,  joined  to  raise 
the  cry,  "  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem  !  "  Ought  not  a  sight 
of  the  "heavenly  Jerusalem"  to  inspire  within  us  a 
vehement  heavenliness,  and  make  us  in  greatei 
earnest  to  be  there?  — Stanford. 

27.  Longings  for  it  strengthen  with  the  spiri- 
tual life. 

(2786.)  None  long  for  heaven  more  than  those 
who  enjoy  most  of  heaven  ;  ail  delays  now  are  ex- 


HE  A  VF.N. 


f    476    ) 


HE  A  VEN. 


ceedingly  tedious  to  such.  Their  continual  moan 
is  "  \l  hv  is  HiS  charint  so  Ions;  in  contin<;1  Why 
ta7-ry  the  wht-els  0/  JJis  chariot  t"  The  last  year  is 
ihought  longer  by  the  apprentice  than  all  his  time 
before,  because  now  it  is  nearer  out. 

—  Gui-itall,  161 7-1679. 

(2787.)  Hope  begets  in  a  Christian  a  holy  im- 
patience after  further  attainments,  especially  when 
it  grows  to  some  strength.  The  higher  our  hopes 
of  salvation  rise,  the  more  will  our  hearts  widen 
and  distend  themselves  in  holy  desires  ;  "  A'ot  only 
they,  but  we  om  selves  also,  ivhicli  have  the  fwst- 
jruits  of  the  Spirit,  even  ice  ourselves  groan  imthin 
ourselves,  waiting  for  the  adoption,  to  wil,  the  re- 
dentplion  of  our  bou'y.''  Methinks  rejoicing  would 
better  become  them  for  what  they  had  already,  tlian 
groaning  for  what  they  have  not.  Who  may  better 
stay  long  for  their  dinner,  than  they  who  have  their 
stomachs  stayed  with  a  good  breakfast?  This  would 
hold  in  b<<dily  food,  but  not  spiritual.  No  doubt, 
the  sweetness  which  they  tasied  from  their  first- 
fruits  in  hand,  did  cheer  their  spirits ;  but  the 
thoughts  of  what  was  behind,  matle  them  groan. 
Hope  waits  for  all,  and  will  not  let  the  soul  sit  down 
contented,  till  all  the  dishes  be  on  the  hoard,  till 
the  whole  harvest  that  stands  on  the  field  of  the 
promise  be  reaped  and  well  inned.  Yea,  the  more 
the  Christian  hath  received  in  partial  payments,  the 
dee]3er  groans  hope  makes  the  soul  fetch  for  what  is 
behind  ;  because  these  foretastes  do  acquaint  the 
Christian  more  with  the  nature  of  those  joys  which 
are  in  heaven,  and  so  en'arge  his  understanding  to 
have  more  raised  concepcions  of  the  felicity  those 
enjoy  that  are  arrived  there:  and  the  increasing  of 
his  knowledge  must  needs  enlarge  his  desires,  and 
those  desires  break  out  into  sad  groans,  to  think 
what  sweet  wine  is  drunk  in  full  bowls  by  glorified 
saints,  and  he  live  where  only  a  sip  is  allowed,  that 
doth  not  satisfy,  but  kindle  his  thirst.  It  is  harder 
now  for  him  to  live  on  this  side  heaven,  than  before 
he  knew  so  much.  He  is  like  one  that  stands  at 
the  door,  within  which  is  a  company  set  at  a  rich 
feast  ;  he  hears  them  how  merry  they  are  ;  througli 
the  key-hole  he  sees  \\hat  variety  they  have;  and 
by  a  little  which  he  licks  from  the  trenchers  that 
are  brought  oi't,  is  sensible  how  delicious  their  fare 
is  :  Oh,  how  such  a  (me's  teeth  would  water  after 
their  cheer,  which  another  misseth  not,  that  hears 
not  of  it,  or  only  hears,  and  tastes  not  of  their 
dainties  1  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

28.  Foretastes  of  Its  joys  are  granted  here  and 
now. 

(27S8.)  How  do  the  heavenly-minded  welcome 
death,  desiring  to  depart  !  What  foreiastes  do  they 
often  have,  as  they  approach  the  confines  of  Canaan  ! 
Land-birds  of  beautiful  plumage  greeted  Columbus 
days  before  his  eye  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  New 
World.  A  more  southern  voyager  found  himself  in 
the  fresh  waters  of  the  Amazon  before  discovering 
the  continent  whence  they  came.  So,  at  the  clo-e 
of  life's  voyage,  do  birds  of  paradise  come  hither- 
ward,  careering  on  bright  wings,  and  the  river  of 
life  sends  its  refreshing  current  far  out  into  the  briny 
sea  of  this  world.  — A.  C.  Thompson. 

(2789.)  If  we  really  live  under  the  hope  of  future 
happiness,  we  shall  taste  it  by  way  of  anticipation 
and  lorethought  ;  an  image  of  it  will  meet  our 
minds  often,  and  stay  there,  as  all  pleasing  expecta- 
tions do.  — Atierbitry,  1662- 1 732. 


29.  The  journey  thither. 

( I . )    The  dificulties  of  the  way, 

(2790.)  Jonathan  and  his  armour-bearer,  being 
upon  their  march  against  the  Philistines,  were  to 
pass  betwixt  two  rocks,  the  one  called  Bozez,  which 
signifies  dirty  ;  the  other  called  Seneh,  which  signi- 
fies thorny — a  hard  passage.  But  on  they  went,  as 
we  say,  through  thick  and  thin,  and  at  last  gained 
the  victory.  The  Israelites  were  first  brought  to  the 
bitter  waters  of  Marah  before  they  miglit  taste  of  the 
pleasant  fountains  or  the  milk  and  honey  of  Canaan. 
And  in  vain  shall  any  man  expect  the  river  of  God's 
pleasures  before  he  hath  pledged  Christ  in  the  cup 
of  bitterness;  when  we  have  pledged  Him  in  His 
gall  and  vinegar,  then  He  will  drink  to  us  in  the 
new  wine  of  His  kingdom.  He  that  is  the  Door 
and  the  Way  hath  tau  ht  us  that  there  is  but  onu 
way,  one  door,  one  passige  to  heaven,  and  that  a 
strait  one,  through  which,  though  we  do  pass  with 
much  pressure  and  tugging,  having  our  superfluous 
rags  torn  away  from  us  here,  in  the  crowd  of  this 
world,  yet  we  shall  be  happy.  He  that  will  be 
knighted  must  kneel  for  it,  and  he  that  will  enter 
in  at  the  strait  gate  must  crowd  for  it — a  gate  made 
so  on  purpose,  narrow  and  hard  in  the  entrance, 
yet,  after  we  have  entered,  wide  and  glorious,  that 
after  our  pain  our  joy  may  be  the  sweeter. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(2.)  The  difficulties  of  the  way  are  not  to  turn  ut 
from  it. 

(2791.)  In  my  course  to  heaven,  almost  all  things 
art  against  me  ;  but  God  is  for  me,  and  how  happily 
still  doth  the  work  succeed  !  Do  I  set  upon  tliis 
work  in  my  own  strength,  or  rather  in  the  strength 
of  Christ  my  Lord  ;  and  cannot  I  do  all  things 
through  Him  that  strengtheneth  me?  Was  He  ever 
foiled,  or  subdued  by  an  enemy  ?  He  hath  been 
assaulted  indeed,  but  was  lie  ever  conquered  ?  Can 
they  take  the  sheep  till  they  have  overcome  the 
shepherd  ?  Why  then  doth  my  flesh  lay  open  to 
me  the  difficulties,  and  urge  me  so  much  with  the 
greatness  and  troubles  of  the  work  ?  It  rs  Christ 
that  must  ansvver  all  these  objections,  and  what  are 
the  dilficulties  that  can  stay  Mis  power?  Is  any- 
thing too  hard  for  the  omnipotent  God?  May  not 
Peter  boldly  walk  on  the  sea,  if  Christ  do  but  give 
the  word  of  conmiand  ;  and  if  he  begin  to  sink,  is 
it  from  the  weakness  of  Christ,  or  the  smallness  of 
his  faith  ?  The  water,  indeed,  is  but  a  sinking 
ground  to  tread  on,  but  if  Christ  be  by,  and  coun- 
tenance us  in  it  ;  if  He  be  ready  to  reach  us  His 
hand,  who  would  draw  back  Irom  fear  of  danger? 
Is  not  sea  and  land  alike  to  Him?  Shall  I  be 
driven  from  my  God,  and  from  my  everlasting  rest, 
as  the  silly  birds  are  frighted  from  their  food  with 
a  man  of  clouts,  or  a  loud  noise,  when  I  know  before 
there  is  no  danger  in  it  ?  How  do  I  see  men  daily 
in  these  wars  adventure  upon  armies,  and  forts,  and 
cannons,  and  cast  themselves  upon  the  instruiuenta 
of  death  ;  and  have  not  I  as  fair  a  prize  before  me, 
and  as  much  encouragement  to  adventure  as  they  J 
What  do  I  venture  ?  My  life  at  most ;  and  in  these 
prosperous  times  there  is  not  one  of  many  that 
ventures  that.  What  do  I  venture  on  ?  Are  they 
not  unarmed  foes  ?  A  great  hazard,  indeed,  to 
venture  on  the  hard  thoughts  of  the  world  ;  or  on 
the  scorns  and  slanders  of  a  wicked  tongue  !  Surely, 
these  seipent's  teeth  are  out  ;  these  vipers  are  easily 
shaken  into  the  fire;  these  adders  have  ik>  .stin|>>; 


HE  A  VEN. 


(     477     ) 


HELL. 


these  thorns  have  lost  their  prickles.  As  all  things 
below  are  silly  comforters,  so  are  they  silly,  tooth- 
less enemies  ;  bugbears  to  frighten  fools  and  children, 
rather  than  ppwerful,  dreadful  foes. 

— Baxter,  i6 1 5-169 1. 


(3.)  At  the  end  of  the  way  there  is  a  sufficient 
recompense  for  all  that  can  befall  us  in  it. 

(2792.)  A  man  in  his  journey  sees  afar  off  some 
great  mountain,  so  that  his  very  eye  is  weary  with 
the  foresight  of  so  great  a  distance  ;  yet  his  comfort 
is  that  time  and  patience  will  overcome  it,  and  that 
every  step  he  takes  sets  him  nearer  to  his  journey's 
end,  and  being  once  there,  he  shall  both  forget  how 
long  it  then  seemed,  and  ^please  himself  in  looking 
back  upon  the  way  that  he  hath  measured.  It  is 
just  thus  in  our  passage  to  heaven  ;  our  weak  nature 
is  ready  to  faint  under  the  very  conceit  and  length 
of  the  journey  ;  our  eyes  do  not  more  guide  than 
discourage  us.  Many  must  be  the  steps  of  grace 
and  true  obedience  that  must  insensibly  bring  us 
thither ;  only  lei  u?  move  and  hope,  and  God's 
good  grace  will  perfect  ou'  salvation.  And  when 
we  are  once  come  to  the  top  of  that  holy  mount, 
meminisse  jttvabit,  all  the  weary  steps  and  deep 
sloughs  that  we  have  passed  through,  all  the  pangs 
that  we  have  felt,  all  the  sorrows  that  we  have 
urdergone,  all  the  difficulties  that  we  have  met 
with  in  the  way,  shall  either  be  forgotten  or  con- 
tribute to  our  happiness  in  the  remembrance  of 
them. 

—Hall,  1 5  74- 1 656. 


(2793.)  The  difficulty  of  obtaining  shows  the 
excellency  ;  and,  surely,  if  you  consider  but  what 
it  cost  Christ  to  purcliase  it  ;  what  it  costs  God's 
Spirit  to  bring  men's  hearts  to  it  ;  what  it  costs 
ministers  to  persuade  to  it  ;  what  it  costs  Christians, 
after  all  this,  to  obtain  it ;  and  what  it  costs  many 
a  half-Christian  that,  after  all,  goes  without  it ;  you 
will  say,  that  here  is  difficulty,  and  therefore  excel- 
lency. Trifles  may  be  had  at  a  trivial  rate,  and 
men  may  have  damnation  far  more  easily.  It  is  but 
to  lie  still,  and  sleep  out  our  days  in  careless  lazi- 
ness. It  i&  but  to  take  our  pleasure,  and  mind  ihe 
world,  and  cast  away  thetlioughts  of  sin,  and  grace, 
and  Christ,  and  heaven,  and  ijcll,  out  of  our  minds  ; 
and  do  as  tlie  most  do,  and  never  trouble  ourselves 
about  these  high  things,  but  venture  our  souls  upon 
our  presumptuous  conceits  and  hopes,  and  let  tlie 
vessel  swim  which  way  it  will  ;  and  then  stream, 
and  wind,  and  tide,  will  all  help  us  apace  to  the 
gulf  of  perdition.  You  may  burn  a  hundred  houses 
easier  than  build  one  ;  and  kill  a  thousand  men, 
than  make  one  alive.  The  descent  is  easy,  ihe 
ascent  not  so.  To  bring  diseases  is  but  to  cherish 
sloth,  please  the  appeiite,  and  take  what  most 
delights  us  ;  but  to  cure  them,  will  cost  bitter  pills, 
loathsome  potions,  tedious  gripings,  abstemious, 
accurate  living  ;  and  perhaps  all  fall  short  too.  He 
that  made  the  way,  and  knows  the  way  better  than 
we,  hath  told  us  "  it.  is  narrow  and  strait,"  and 
requires  striving  ;  and  they  that  have  paced  it  more 
truly  and  observantly  than  we,  do  tell  us  it  lies 
through  many  tribulations,  and  is  with  much  ado 
passed  through.  Conclude,  then,  it  is  surely  some- 
what worth  that  must  cost  all  this. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 


HELL. 

1.  Its  locality  unknown. 

(2794.)  Some  of  the  upper  part  of  the  earth  Is 
to  us  yet  terra  incogtitta,  an  unknown  land  ;  but  all 
of  the  lowest  part  of  hell  is  to  us  an  unknown  land. 
Many  thousands  have  travelled  thither,  but  none 
have  returned  thence,  to  make  reports,  or  write 
books  of  their  travels.  That  piece  of  geography  is 
very  imperfect  .  .  .  When  a  curious  inquisitor 
asked  Austin  what  God  did  before  He  created  the 
world,  Austin  told  him  He  was  making  hell  for 
such  busy  questionists,  for  such  curious  inquirers 
into  God's  secrets.  Such  handsome  jerks  are  the 
best  answers  to  men  of  curious  minds.  It  concerns 
us  but  little  to  know  where  hell  is.  Certainly  they 
are  the  best  and  wisest  of  men,  who  spend  most 
thoughts,  and  time,  and  pains  how  to  keep  out  of 
it,  than  to  exercise  themselves  with  disputes  about 
it.  —Brooks,  1 608- 1 68a 

2.  Beasonableness  of  belief  in  Its  existence. 

(2795.)  Hell  is  the  infinite  terror  of  the  soul, 
whatever  that  may  be.  To  one  man  it  is  pain. 
Rid  him  of  that,  he  can  bear  all  degradation.  To 
another  it  is  public  shame.  Save  him  from  that, 
and  he  will  creep  and  crawl  before  you  to  submit 
to  any  reptile  meanness.  "  Honour  me  now,  I  pray 
thee,  before  the  people,"  cries  Saul,  till  Samuel 
turns  from  the  abject  thing  in  scorn.  To  others, 
the  infinite  terror  is  that  compared  with  which  all 
these  would  be  a  bed  of  roses.  It  is  the  hell  of 
having  done  wrong — the  hell  of  having  had  a  spirit 
from  God,  pure,  with  high  aspirations,  and  to  be 
conscious  of  having  dulled  its  delicacy,  and  degraded 
its  desires — the  hell  of  having  quenched  a  light 
brighter  than  the  sun's,  of  having  done  to  another 
an  injury  that  through  time  and  through  eternity 
never  can  be  undone — infinite,  maddening  remorse 
— the  hell  of  knowing  that  every  chance  of  excel- 
lence, and  every  opportunity  of  good,  has  been  lost 
for  e\  er.  This  is  the  infinite  terror ;  this  is  wrath 
to  come. 

You  doubt  that  ?  Have  you  ever  marked  that 
striking  fact,  the  connection  of  the  successive  stages 
of  the  soul  ?  How  sin  can  change  the  countenance, 
undermine  the  health,  produce  restlessness  ?  Think 
you  the  grave  will  end  all  that  ?  That  by  some 
magic  change,  the  moral  being  shall  be  buried 
there,  and  the  soul  rise  again  so  changed  in  every 
feeling  that  the  very  identity  of  being  would  be  lost, 
and  it  would  amount  to  the  creation  of  a  new  soul  ? 
Say  you  that  God  is  love  ?  Oh  !  but  look  round 
this  world.  The  aspect  of  things  is  stern  ;  very 
stern.  If  they  be  ruled  by  love,  it  is  a  love  which 
does  not  slirink  from  human  agony.  There  is  a 
law  of  infinite  mercy  here,  but  there  is  a  law  of 
boundless  rigour  too.  Sin,  and  you  will  suffer — 
that  law  is  not  reversed.  The  young,  and  the 
gentle,  and  the  tender,  are  inexorably  subjected 
to  it.  We  would  shield  them  if  we  could  ;  but 
there  is  that  which  says  they  shall  not  be  shielded. 
They  shall  weep,  and  fade,  and  taste  of  mortal 
anguish,  even  as  others.  Carry  that  out  into  the 
next  world,  and  you  have  "  wrath  to  come." 

— Robertson,  18 1 6- 1 853. 

3.  Tlie  dimgeon  of  tlie  universe. 

(2796.)  I  confess  it  greatly  quieteth  my  mind 
against  this  great  objection  of  the  numbers  that  are 
damned  and  cast  off  for  ever,  to  consider  bow  small 


HELL. 


(    478     ) 


HELL. 


E  part  this  earth  is  of  God's  creation,  as  well  as  how 
sinful  and  impenitent.  Ask  any  astronomer  that 
hath  considered  the  innumerable  numbers  of  the 
fixed  stars  and  planets,  with  their  distances  and 
magnitude  and  glory,  and  the  uncertainty  that  we 
have  whether  there  be  not  as  many  more,  or  a 
h-.;ndred  or  thousand  times  as  many,  unseen  to  man 
as  all  those  which  we  see  (considering  the  defective- 
ness of  man's  sight),  and  the  planets  about  Jupiter, 
with  the  innumerable  stars  in  the  milky  way,  which 
the  tube  hath  lately  discovered,  which  man's  eyes 
without  it  could  not  see  :  I  say,  ask  any  man  who 
knoweth  these  things,  whether  all  this  earth  be  any 
more  in  comparison  of  the  whole  creation  than  one 
prison  is  to  a  kingdom  or  empire,  or  the  paring  of 
one  nail,  or  a  little  mole,  or  wart,  or  a  hair  in  com- 
parison of  a  whole  body.  And  if  God  should  cast 
off  all  this  earth,  and  use  all  the  sinners  in  it  as 
they  deserve,  it  is  no  more  sign  of  a  want  of 
benignity,  or  mercy  in  Him,  than  it  is  for  a  king  to 
cast  one  subject  of  a  million  into  a  gaol,  to  hang 
.him  for  his  murder  or  treason  or  rebellion  ;  or  for 
a  man  to  kill  one  louse  which  is  but  a  molestation 
to  tlie  body  that  beareth  it,  or  than  it  is  to  pare  a 
■mTn's  nails,  or  to  cut  off  a  wart,  or  a  hair,  or 
•.o  pull  out  an  aching,  rotten  tooth.  I  know  it  is  a 
thing  uncertain  and  unrevealed  to  us,  whether  all 
these  globes  be  inhabited  or  not.  But  he  that  con- 
sidereth,  that  there  is  scarce  any  uninhabitable  place 
on  earth,  or  in  the  water,  or  air  ;  but  men,  or  beasts, 
o  birds,  or  fishes,  or  Hies,  or  worms,  and  moles,  do 
take  up  almost  all ;  will  think  it  a  probability  so 
near  a  certainty  as  not  to  be  much  doubted  of,  that 
the  vaster  and  more  glorious  parts  of  the  creation 
are  not  uninhabited  ;  but  that  they  have  inhabitants 
answerable  to  their  magnitude  and  glory,  as  palaces 
have  other  inhabitants  than  cottages  ;  and  that 
there  is  a  con-naturality  and  agreeableness  there  as 
well  as  here,  between  the  region,  or  globe,  and  the 
inhabitants.  But  whether  it  be  the  globes  them- 
selves, or  only  the  interspaces,  or  other  parts, 
that  are  thus  inhabited,  no  reason  can  doubt,  but 
that  those  more  vast  and  glorious  spaces  are  pro- 
portionably  possessed.  And  whether  they  are  all 
to  be  called  angels  or  spirits,  or  by  what  other 
name,  is  unrevealed  to  us  :  but  whatever  they  are 
called,  I  make  no  question  but  our  number  to  theirs, 
IS  not  one  to  a  million  at  the  most.  Now  this  being 
so,  for  aught  we  know,  those  glorious  parts  may 
nave  inhabitants  without  any  sin  or  misery  ;  who 
are  filled  with  their  Maker's  love  and  goodness,  and 
so,  fitter  to  be  the  demonstration  of  that  love  and 
goodness  than  this  sinful  molehill  or  dungeon  of 
ignorance  is.  If  I  were  sure  that  God  would  save 
all  mankind,  and  only  leave  the  devils  in  their  dam- 
nation, and  forsake  no  part  of  His  creation  but 
their  hell,  it  would  not  be  any  great  stumbling  to  my 
faith.  Or  if  earth  were  all  God's  creation,  and  I 
were  sure  tliat  He  would  condemn  but  one  man  of 
a  hundred  thousand,  or  a  million,  and  that  only  for 
final  impenitency  in  the  contempt  of  the  mercy 
which  would  have  saved  him,  this  would  be  no 
great  difficulty  to  my  faith;  why  then  should  it  be 
aa  offence  to  us,  if  God,  for  their  final  refusal  of  His 
grace,  do  for  ever  forsake  and  punish  the  far  greater 
part  of  this  little,  dark,  and  sinful  world,  while  He 
glorifieth  His  benignity  and  love  abundantly  upon 
innumerable  angels,  and  blessed  spirits,  and  inhabi- 
tants of  those  more  large  and  glorious  seats?  If  you 
would  judge  of  the  beneficence  of  a  king,  will  you 
go  to  the  gaol  and  the  gallows  to  discern  it  •,  or  to 


his  palace,  and  all  the  rest  of  his  kingdom?  And 
will  you  make  a  {^w  condemned  malefactors  the 
measure  of  it  ;  or  all  the  rest  of  his  obedient  pros- 
perous subjects  ?  If  hell  be  totally  forsaken  of  God, 
as  having  totally  forsaken  Him  ;  and  if  earth  have 
made  itself  next  to  hell,  and  be  forsaken  as  to  the  far 
greater  part,  because  that  greater  part  hath  forsaken 
Hini  ;  as  long  as  there  may  be  millions  of  blessed 
ones  above  to  one  of  these  forsaken  ones  on  earth, 
it  should  be  no  offence  to  any  but  the  selfish,  guilty 
sinner.  I  confess,  I  rather  look  upon  it  as  a  great 
demonstration  of  God's  holiness  and  goodness  in 
His  justice,  that  He  will  punish  the  rebellious 
according  to  His  laws ;  and  a  great  demonstration 
of  His  goodness  in  His  mercy,  that  He  will  save 
any  of  such  a  rebellious  world,  and  hath  not 
forsal<en  it  utterly,  as  hell.  And  when  of  all 
the  thousands  of  globes  or  worlds  which  He  hath 
made,  we  know  of  none  forsaken  by  Him  ;  but 
hell,  and  part  of  the  earth,  all  the  devils,  and 
most  of  men  ;  we  should  admire  the  glory  of  His 
bounty,  and  be  thankful,  with  joy,  that  we  are 
not  of  the  forsaken  number  ;  and  that  even  among 
sinners.  He  will  cast  off  none  but  those  that  finally 
reject  His  mercy. 

But  selfishness  and  sense  do  make  men  blind,  and 
judge  of  good  and  evil  only  by  self-interest  and 
feeling :  and  the  malefactor  will  hardly  magnify 
justice,  nor  take  it  to  be  a  sign  of  goodness  :  but 
God  will  be  God,  whether  selfish  rebels  will  or  not. 
—Baxter,  16 1 5-1 691. 

(2797.)  The  unseen  bears  to  the  seen  world  the 
same  relation  which  the  vast  universe  bears  to  a 
house  or  mansion.  Every  house,  however  sump- 
tuous, is  more  or  less  dark,  more  or  less  confined, 
limits  more  or  less  the  view  of  the  surrounding 
country,  defiles  more  or  less,  through  its  enclosures, 
the  purity  of  the  atmosphere.  But  go  abroad  from 
the  midnight  festival,  where  lamps  slied  an  artificial 
glare,  and  the  house  reeks  with  the  odours  of  the 
banquet, — go  abroad  into  the  still,  solemn  starlight, 
and  catch  the  fresh  breeze  on  thy  brov/,  and  look 
upwards  into  the  vast  expanse,  lit  up  with  the  lamjis 
of  heaven.  Or  go  forth  from  the  close  and 
darkened  chamber  of  sleep,  into  the  light  and  stir 
of  the  fair  summer  morning,  when  the  woods  and 
streams  are  vocal  with  melody,  and  every  little  in- 
sect is  on  the  wing,  and  all  nature  teems  with  life  and 
animation.  Such  is  the  passage  from  the  sphere 
which  is  seen  with  the  eye  of  flesh,  to  that  which  is 
not  seen  ;  from  the  false  artificial  lights  of  time,  to 
the  solemn  stillness  of  eternity  ;  from  the  noxious 
vapours  of  the  world,  to  the  pure  breath  of  heaven's 
atmosphere ;  from  scenes  where  man's  art  and 
man's  handicraft  have  on  all  sides  set  up  their 
memorials,  to  scenes  which  man  has  never  trodden. 
To  that  unseen  realm  whereof  we  speak,  the 
Gehenna,  so  often  confounded  with  it,  bears  the 
same  relation,  as  the  dungeon  of  a  baronial  castle 
bears  to  the  entire  domain  of  the  feudal  lord.  The 
dungeon  is  the  place  of  punishment  and  incarcera- 
tion, where  prisoners  expiate,  by  slow  degrees,  their 
offences, — allowed  to  pine  away  in  darkness  and 
solitude,  shut  out  from  the  blessed  light  of  heaven, 
shut  out  from  the  hum  and  stir  of  human  inter- 
course, from  the  joyous  sound  of  the  huntsman's 
bugle,  and  the  gay  minstrelsy  of  the  banqueting-hall. 
And  Gelienna  is  that  spot  of  everlasting  banish- 
ment from  light,  which  forms,  or  will  form,  the 
prison-house  of  the  impenitent,  a  small  and  insig- 


HELL. 


(    479    ) 


HELL. 


nificant  section  of  the  vast  domains  of  Him,  of 
whom  we  read  that  He  is  Light,  and  that  He  is 
Love.  — Goulburn. 

4.  The  wickedness  of  Its  Inha'bltants. 

(2798.)  How  little  you  know  what  will  be  the 
effer:t  of  what  you  do  when  you  cast  that  little  black 
seed  of  a  poisonous  plant  into  the  ground.  It  looks 
as  fine  as  a  seed  of  the  most  harmless  flower  ;  but 
how  little  do  you  know  what  it  will  come  to. 
How  little  do  you  know  what  the  plant  will  be 
from  the  seed.  And  so  shall  it  be  with  the  human 
soul  that  grows  and  grows  in  pride,  in  selfishness, 
and  in  hostility  to  the  Divine  will.  Such  a  soul 
drops  into  death  as  the  seed  drops  into  the  open 
furrow.  Its  roots  shall  come  forth  again,  it  shall 
lift  up  its  trunk  again,  it  shall  grow  again  ;  but, 
oh!  who  can  tell  what  that  growth  may  come  to? 
To  what  will  thi?  unregenerate  man  come  when  he 
grows  in  the  soil  of  another  life?  If  in  all  our 
developments  here  we  are  but  seeds,  to  what  states 
of  wickedness  shall  we  come  in  that  land  where  all 
restraints  are  removed  from  men,  and  they  are  left 
to  be  swept  on  by  the  whole  force  and  impetus  of 
fheir  depraved  natures?  — Beecher. 

fi.  The  misery  of  Its  Inhabitants. 

(l.)  Its  ulterness. 

(2799.)  ^'s''  is  the  centre  in  which  all  the  lines 
of  sin  and  of  miseiT  meet,  the  common  shoal  into 
which  they  all  disgorge  themselves,  as  rivers  do  their 
streams  into  the  vast  ocean  ;  and  as  rivers,  when  they 
ai  e  fallen  into  the  sea,  lose  their  several  names  in  one 
that  comprehends  them  all — the  ocean  ; — so  all  the 
evils  of  this  life,  when  resolved  into  this,  forget  their 
private  names  —  sickness,  pains,  poverty,  Slc.  — 
and  are  called  Hell  ;  not  that  these  are  all  formally 
and  literally  there,  but  virtually,  in  that  the  torment 
of  the  damned  doth  not  only  amount  to,  but  beyond 
expression  exceed  them  all.  As  in  heaven  there  is 
no  belly-cheer,  yet  a  feast ;  no  silks  and  satins 
worn,  yet  all  in  glorious  robes  ;  as  silver  is  in  gold, 
and  gold  in  a  jewel,  so  all  these  are  in  heaven,  be- 
cause that  is  of  infinitely  more  value  and  worth 
than  such  things  as  are  of  highest  reckoning  on  earth. 
Thus  the  great  miseries  of  this  life  are  incomparably 
less  than  the  least  torment  of  hell.  Never  can  the 
creature  say  he  is  completely  miserable  till  the 
devouring  jaws  of  that  infernal  pit  enclose  him. 
Were  the  worst  of  his  punishment  what  he  feels  here, 
he  might  in  a  manner  bless  himself;  as  Paul  on  the 
contrary  saith,  he  should  judge  the  saint  miserable 
above  others  if  all  his  hope  were  here.  But  there 
is  the  sinner's  easeless  endless  state  ;  there  is  not  so 
much  as  one  well  day  to  release  him  a  while  from 
his  pain,  but  he  shall  continue  for  ever  in  the 
height  of  his  paroxysm  ;  no  change  of  weather  or 
hope  of  clearing,  but  a  perpetual  storm  set  in  to 
rain  fire  and  brimstone  upon  him  to  all  eternity,  for 
so  long  it  will  be  before  the  arm  of  the  Almighty  is 
weary  of  pouring  out  His  wrath,  or  His  heart  be 
brought  in  love  with  sin,  and  reconciled  to  the 
sinner.  — Gurna/l,  161 7-1679. 

(2800.)  The  lost  soul  will  raise  himself  out  of  the 
fire  only  to  fall  back  ifito  it.  He  will  always  feel 
the  desire  of  rising,  because  he  was  created  for  God, 
as  a  bird  shut  up  in  a  room  flies  to  the  ceiling  and 
falls  down  again  ;  the  justice  ol"  God  is  the  ceiling 
which  keeps  down  the  lost.  — Vianney 


(2.)  From  what  it  arises. 

(2801.)  In  hell  it  is  sin  that  is  the  pitch  m  the 
barrel  that  makes  it  burn,  it  is  sin  in  the  conscience 
that  makes  the  fire  ;  God's  wrath  comes  upon  it, 
but  it  is  that  which  burns. 

— Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

6.  Its  unquenchable  fire. 

(2802.)  That  fire  is  unquenchable.  "And  how," 
it  may  be  said,  "is  it  unquenchable  ?"  Seest  thou 
not  this  sun  ever  burning,  and  never  quenched? 
Didst  thou  not  behold  the  bush  burning,  and  not 
consumed  ?  — Chrysostotn,  347-407. 

(2803.)  Oh,  sirs,  were  all  the  water  in  the  sea  ink, 
and  every  pile  of  grass  a  pen,  and  every  hair  on 
all  the  men's  heads  in  the  world  the  hand  of  a 
ready  writer,  all  would  be  too  short  graphically  to 
delineate  the  nature  of  this  dungeon,  where  all  lost 
souls  must  lodge  for  ever.  ...  If  all  the  fires  that 
ever  were,  or  shall  be  in  the  world,  were  contracted 
into  one  fire,  yet  such  a  fire  would  be  but  as  a 
painted  fire  upon  the  wall,  to  the  fire  of  hell  !  .  .  . 
They  that  have  seen  the  flames  and  heard  the 
thunderings  of  ^tna,  the  flushing  of  Vesuvius,  the 
thundering  and  burning  flakes  evaporating  from 
those  marine  rocks,  have  not  seen,  no,  not  so  much 
as  the  very  glimmering  of  hell.  A  painted  fire  is  a 
better  shadow  of  these,  than  these  can  be  of  hell- 
torments,  and  the  miseries  of  tht  damned  therein. 
.  .  .  Infernal  fire  is  neither  tolerable  nor  terminable. 
Impenitent  sinners  in  hell  shall  have  end  without 
end,  death  without  death,  night  without  day, 
mourning  without  miith,  sorrow  without  solace,  and 
bondage  without  liberty.  The  damned  shall  live  as 
long  in  hell  as  God  Himself  shall  live  in  heaven. 
Their  imr)risonment  in  that  land  of  darkness,  in 
that  bot'jmless  pit,  is  not  an  imprisonment  during 
the  King's  pleasure,  but  an  imprisonment  during 
the  everlasting  disyleasure  of  the  King  of  kings. 
— Brook;^  1 608- 1 680. 

(2804.)  Unless  under  such  miraculous  circum- 
stances as  those  in  which  the  three  Hebrew  children 
walked  unhurt  in  the  furnace,  or  the  mountain 
bush,  as  if  bathed  in  dew,  flowered  amid  the  flames, 
life  cannot  exist  in  fire  under  any  shape  or  form. 
No  creature  feeds,  or  breeds,  or  breathes  in  flames. 
What  the  winds  fan,  and  the  soil  nourishes,  and 
the  dews  refresh,  fire  kills.  It  scorches  whatever 
it  touches,  and  whatever  breathes  it,  dies.  Turn- 
ing the  stateliest  tree,  and  sweetest  flowers,  and 
loveliest  form  of  the  daughters  of  Eve,  into  a  heap 
of  ashes,  or  a  coal-black  cinder,  fire  is  the  tomb  ol 
beauty,  and  the  sepulchre  of  all  life  ;  the  only  region 
and  realm  within  which  death  reigns,  with  none  to 
dispute  his  sway.  And  thus  the  characteristic 
feature  of  this  element — beside  the  pain  it  inflicts — 
is  the  death  it  works. 

Suppose,  then,  that  the  fire  that  is  never  quenched 
is  but  a  painted  flame — grant  that  it  is  nothing  but 
a  symbol  or  figure  of  the  punishment  which  awaits 
the  impenitent  and  unbelieving,  in  what  respects 
have  they,  who  have  persuaded  themselves  of  that, 
improved  their  prospects?  It  is,  "as  if  a  man  did 
flee  from  a  lion,  and  a  bear  met  him  ;  or  went  into 
the  house,  and  leaned  his  hand  on  the  wall,  and  a 
serpent  bit  him."  Although  the  language  of  Scrip- 
ture were  figurative,  yet  expressing  as  it  does  the 
utter  consumption  and  death  of  all  hope  and  happi* 
ness.  it  is  not  less  madness  for  any  one  to  reject  th« 


HELL. 


(    480    ) 


HELL. 


Savlonr,  and  for  the  etjoymeo*  of  a  passing  pleasure 
to  brave  so  terrible  a  doom.  — Gulhrie. 

7.  Its  torments  eternal. 

(2805.)  Wrath  to  come  implies  both  the  futurity 
and  perpetuity  of  this  wrath.  It  is  wrath  that  shall 
certainly  and  inevitably  come  upon  sinners.  As 
sure  as  the  night  follows  the  day,  as  sure  as  the 
winter  follows  the  summer ;  so  shall  wrath  follow 
sin  and  the  pleasures  thereof  Yea,  it  is  not  only 
certainly  future,  but  when  it  comes  it  will  be  abiding 
wrath,  or  wrath  still  coming.  When  millions  of 
years  and  ages  are  past  and  gone,  this  will  still  be 
wrath  to  come.  Ever  coming  as  a  river  ever  flowing. 
— Flavel,  1 630- 1 69 1. 

(2806. )  The  torments  of  hell  abide  for  ever,  "  The 

smoke  of  their  torment  ascendeth  up  for  ever  and 
ever."  Time  cannot  finish  it,  tears  cannot  quench 
It :  the  wicked  are  salamanders,  who  live  always 
in  the  fire  of  hell,  and  are  not  consumed  ;  after 
sinners  have  lain  millions  of  years  in  hell,  their 
punishment  is  as  far  from  ending,  as  it  was  at  the 
beginning.  If  all  the  earth  and  sea  were  sand,  and 
every  thousandth  year  a  bird  should  come,  and  take 
away  one  grain  of  thi.«  jand,  it  would  be  a  long  time 
ere  that  vast  heap  of  sand  were  emptied  ;  yet,  if 
after  all  that  time  the  damneJ  might  come  out 
of  hell,  there  were  some  hope  ;  but  this  word  EVER 
breaks  the  heart.  — iVatson,  1696. 

8.  Voluntarily  cliosen  by  the  wicked. 

(2807.)  You  would  not  burn  in  hell,  but  you  will 
kindle  the  fire  by  your  sins,  and  cast  yourselves  into 
it  ;  you  would  not  be  tormented  with  devils  in  hell, 
but  you  will  do  that  which  will  certainly  procure 
it  in  despite  of  all  that  can  be  said  against  it.  It 
is  just  as  if  you  would  say,  I  will  drink  poison,  but 
yet  I  will  not  die  ;  I  will  cast  myself  headlong  from 
the  top  of  a  steeple,  but  yet  I  will  not  kill  myself; 
I  will  thrust  my  knife  into  my  heart,  but  yet  I  will 
not  take  away  my  life  ;  I  will  put  this  fire  into  the 
thatch  of  my  house,  but  yet  I  will  not  burn  it.  Just 
so  it  is  with  wicked  men  ;  they  will  be  wicked,  and 
live  after  the  flesh  in  the  world,  and  yet  they  would 
not  be  damned.  But  do  you  not  know  that  the 
means  do  lead  unto  the  end  ?  and  that  God  has  by 
His  righteous  law  concluded  that  ye  must  repent  or 
perish  ?  He  that  will  take  poison  may  as  well  say, 
I  will  kill  myself,  for  it  will  prove  no  better  in  the 
end  ;  though  perhaps  he  loved  it  for  the  sweetness 
of  the  sugar  that  was  mixed  with  it,  and  would  not 
be  persuaded  it  was  poison,  but  that  he  might  take 
it  and  do  well  enough  ;  but  it  is  not  his  conceit  and 
confidence  that  will  save  his  life.  So  if  you  will  be 
drunkards,  or  fornicators,  or  worldlings,  or  live  after 
the  flesh,  you  may  as  well  say  plainly,  we  will  be 
damned  ;  for  so  you  shall  be  unless  you  turn.  Would 
you  not  rebuke  the  folly  of  a  thief  or  murderer  that 
would  say,  "  I  will  steal  or  kill,  but  I  will  not  be 
hanged  ;  "  when  he  knows  that  if  he  do  the  one, 
the  judge  in  justice  will  see  that  the  other  be  done. 
If  he  says,  "  I  will  steal  and  murder,"  he  may  as 
well  say  plainly,  "  I  will  be  hanged.;  "  so  if  you  go 
or  a  carnal  life,  you  may  as  well  say  plainly,  '*  We 
will  go  to  hell." 

Moreover,  the  wicked  will  not  use  those  means 
without  wlijch  there  is  no  hope  of  their  salvation. 
He  that  will  not  eat  may  as  well  say  plainly  he  will 
not  live,  unless  he  can  tell  how  to  live  without  meat. 
He   that  will   not  go  his  journey  may  as  well  say 


plainly  he  will  not  come  to  the  end.  He  that  fall* 
into  the  water,  and  will  not  come  out,  nor  suffer 
another  to  help  him  out,  may  as  well  say  plainly  he 
will  be  drowned.  So  if  you  be  carnal  and  ungodly, 
and  will  not  be  converted,  but  think  it  more  ado 
than  needs,  you  may  as  well  say  plainly  you  will  be 
damned.  For  if  you  have  found  out  a  way  to  be 
saved  without  conversion,  you  have  done  that  which 
was  never  done  before.         — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

9.  In  what  sense  It  Is  the  doom  of  the  rejectors 
of  Christ. 

(2808.)  A  man  being  sick  and  like  to  die,  the 
physician,  knowing  his  case,  takes  with  him  some 
preservative  to  comfort  him,  and  coming  to  the 
door  falls  a-knocking.  Now,  if  he  either  will  not 
or  be  not  able  to  let  him  in,  he  must  of  necessity 
perish,  and  the  cause  cannot  properly  lie  at  the 
physician's  door,  who  was  ready  and  willing  to 
relieve  him,  but  in  himself,  that  is  not  willing  to  be 
relieved.  Thus  it  is  that  sin  is  a  disease  whereof 
we  are  all  sick.  We  have  all  sinned.  Now, 
Christ  is  the  great  Physician  of  our  souls  ;  He  came 
down  formerly  from  heaven  on  purp^^se  to  heal  us. 
and  He  comes  down  daily  to  the  door  of  our  hearts, 
and  there  He  knocks.  If  we  but  open  the  door  of 
our  hearts  He  will  come  in  and  sup  with  us,  as  He 
did  with  Mary,  and  forgive  all  our  sins  ;  but  if  we 
will  not  let  Him  in,  or,  through  long  contagion  of 
sin,  be  not  able  to  let  Him  in,  we  must  of  necessity 
die  in  our  sins  ;  and  the  case  is  evident,  not  because 
He  doth  not  offer  grace,  but  because  we  receive  it 
not  when  it  is  offered.  — Inchinus. 

(2809.)  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  there  is  a 
broad  distinction  between  a  penalty  and  a  conse- 
quence, as  those  terms  are  commonly  understood. 
When  Christ  said,  "He  that  believeth  not  shall  be 
damned,"  He  announced  a  consequence.  He  did 
not  threaten  a  penalty  in  the  usual  acceptation  of 
the  term.  A  consequence  is  the  direct  and  inevit- 
able result  of  certain  processes,  partaking  of  their 
very  nature,  and  inseparable  from  them  ;  but  a 
penalty  may  possibly  be  something  different,  some- 
thing arbitrarily  superadded,  regardless  of  adapta- 
tion or  measure.  Being  chilled  is  a  consequence 
of  exposure  to  cold  air,  but  being  flogged  for  such 
exposure  is  a  penalty.  Eternal  punishment  is  the 
consequence  of  rejecting  the  Gospel,  not  a  penalty 
(in  the  low  sense  of  revenge)  attached  to  a  crime. 

— Parker. 

10.  Men  should  he  warned  against  it. 

(2810.)  The  thought  of  the  future  punishment  for 
the  wicked,  which  the  Bible  reveals,  is  enough  to 
make  an  earthquake  of  terror  in  every  man's  soul. 
I  do  not  accept  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment 
because  I  delight  in  it.  I  would  cast  in  doul^ts,  if 
I  could,  till  1  had  filled  hell  up  to  the  brim.  I 
would  destroy  all  faith  in  it ;  but  that  would  do  me 
no  good  ;  I  could  not  destroy  the  thing.  Nor  does 
it  help  me  to  take  the  word  "  everlasting,"  and  put 
it  into  a  rack  like  an  inquisitor,  until  J  make  it 
shriek  out  some  other  meaning ;  I  cannot  alter  the 
stern  fact. 

The  exposition  of  future  punishment  in  God's 
Word  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  threat,  but  as  a 
merciful  declaration.  If,  in  the  ocean  of  life,  over 
which  we  are  bound  to  eternity,  there  are  these 
rocks  and  shoals,  it  is  no  cruelty  to  chart  them 
down  ;  it  is  an  eminent  and  prominent  mercy. 

— Beecher, 


HELL. 


(    481    ) 


HOLINESS. 


(281 1.)  I  firmly  believe  that  it  is  by  the  power  of 
Christ  that  every  man  who  shall  touch  the  shore  of 
heaven  will  be  saved,  but  I  am  not  authorised  to 
say  that  God  uses  no  other  channels  of  grace  than 
those  that  we  know,  and  that  in  the  sovereignty  of 
His  love  He  cannot  make  up  to  men  who  are  in 
darkness  that  salvation  which  we  reject,  and  give 
them  a  reflected  light,  at  least,  of  that  glory  which 
shines  full  on  us  I 

But,  for  all  those  who  have  been  clearly  taught, 
who  have  been  moved  by  their  wicked  passions 
deliberately  to  set  aside  Him  of  whom  the  prophet 
spake,  whom  the  apostles  more  clearly  taught,  whom 
the  Holy  Spirit,  by  the  Divine  power,  makes  known 
now  to  the  world,  through  the  Gospel — for  them,  if 
they  reject  their  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
there  remaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin.  If  they 
deliberately  neglect,  set  aside,  or  reject  their 
Saviour,  He  will  as  deliberately  in  the  end  reject 
them,  and  for  ever  set  them  apart  from  the  glory  of 
heaven. 

Sometimes,  in  dark  caves,  men  have  gone  to  the 
edge  of  unspeaking  precipices,  and,  wondering  what 
was  the  depth,  have  cast  down  fragments  of  rock, 
and  listened  for  the  report  of  their  fall,  that  they 
might  judge  how  deep  that  blackness  was ;  and, 
listening! — still  listening! — no  sound  returns!  no 
sullen  splash,  no  clinking  stroke  as  of  rock  against 
rock — nothing  but  silence,  utter  silence  1  And  so 
I  stand  upon  the  precijnce  of  life.  I  sound  the 
depths  of  the  other  world  with  curious  inquiries. 
But  from  it  comes  no  echo,  and  no  answer  to  my 
questions.  No  analogies  can  grapple  and  bring  up 
from  the  depths  of  the  darkness  of  the  lost  world 
the  probable  truths.  No  philosophy  has  line  and 
plummet  long  enough  to  sound  the  depths.  There 
remains  for  us  only  the  few  authoritative  and  solemn 
words  of  God.  These  declare  that  the  bliss  of  the 
righteous  is  everlasting  ;  and  with  equal  directness 
and  simplicity  they  declare  that  the  doom  of  the 
wicked  is  everlasting.  ' 

The  incorrigibly  wicked,  the  deliberately  impeni- 
tent, have  nothing  to  hope  in  the  future,  if  they  set 
aside  the  light  and  the  glory  that  shines  in  the  face 
of  Jesus  Christ.  And  therefore  it  is  that  I  make 
haste,  with  an  inconceivable  ardour,  to  persuade 
you  to  be  reconciled  to  your  God.  I  hold  up  before 
you  that  God  who  loves  the  sinners  and  abhors  sin  ; 
who  loves  goodness  with  infinite  fsrvour,  and 
breathes  it  upon  those  who  put  their  trust  in  Him  ; 
who  makes  all  the  elements  His  ministering  servants; 
who  sends  years,  and  weeks,  and  days,  and  hours, 
all  radiant  with  benefaction,  and,  if  we  would  but 
hear  their  voice,  all  pleading  the  goodness  of  God 
as  an  argument  of  repentance  and  of  obedience. 
And  remember  that  it  is  this  God  who  yet  declares 
that  He  will  at  last  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty. 
Make  your  peace  with  Him  now,  or  abandon  all 
hopes  of  peace  1  — Beecher. 

11.  Ineflacacy  of  unbelief  in  its  existence. 

{2812.)  O  my  brother  !  your  opinion  about  "for 
ever"  can  have  no  manner  of  effect  upon  the  reality 
of  that  "for  ever  !"  A  party  of  boatmen  on  the 
Niagara  river  may  have  a  very  strong  opinion  when 
they  are  caught  by  the  rapids  that  it  is  very  pleasant 
rowing  ;  but  neither  their  shouts  nor  their  merri- 
ment will  alter  the  fact  that  the  world's  catarixt  is 
close  at  hand. 

You  have  a  strong  opinion  that  hell-fire  is  a 
delusion  ;   that   they  are   superstitious,  and  cruel, 


and  ignorant  who  ask  you  to  pause,  and  awake,  and 
prepare  for  this  coming,  this  continued  retribution  ; 
but  your  opinion  will  not  have  the  slightest,  the 
remotest,  the  minutest  influence  on  the  tremendoui 
fact.  — Keytwldt, 


HOLINESS. 

1.  Defined. 

(2813.)  I  do  not  mean  by  holiness  the  mere  per- 
formance of  outward  duties  of  religion,  coldly  acted 
over,  as  a  task ;  not  our  habitual  prayings,  hearings, 
fastings,  multiplied  one  upon  another  (though  these 
be  all  good,  as  subservient  to  a  higher  end) ;  but  I 
mean  an  inward  soul  and  principle  of  divine  life 
(Romans  viii.  1-5),  that  spiriteth  all  these.  .  .  . 
The  first,  though  it  work  in  us  some  outward  con- 
formity to  God's  commandments,  and  so  hath  a  good 
effect  upon  the  world,  yet  we  are  all  this  while  but 
like  dead  instruments  of  music,  that  sound  sweetly 
and  harmoniously  when  they  are  only  struck  and 
played  upon  from  without  by  the  musician's  hand, 
who  hath  the  theory  and  law  of  music  living  withiu 
himself;  but  the  second,  the  living  law  of  the 
Gospel,  "the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life"  within  us, 
is  as  if  the  soul  of  music  should  incorporate  itself 
with  the  instrument,  and  live  in  the  strings,  and 
make  them  of  their  own  accord,  without  any  touch 
or  impulse  from  without,  dance  up  and  down,  and 
warble  out  their  harmonies. 

—Cudworth,  1617-1688. 

2.  As  displayed  in  God  and  Mas. 

(2814.)  If  the  stars,  which  appeared  most  bril- 
liant during  the  night,  lose  their  splendour  on  the 
rising  of  the  sun,  what  can  we  suppose  will  be  the 
case  with  the  most  excellent  innocence  of  man, 
when  compared  with  the  purity  of  God  ? 

— Calvin,  1509- 1 564. 

(2815.)  The  holiness  of  a  covenant  soul  is  a 
resemblance  of  the  holiness  of  God,  and  formed  by 
it,  as  the  picture  of  the  sun  in  a  cloud  is  a  fruit  of 
his  beams,  and  an  image  of  its  author.  The  fulness 
of  the  perfection  of  holiness  remains  in  the  nature 
of  God,  as  the  fulness  of  the  light  does  in  the  sun  ; 
yet  there  are  transmissions  from  the  sun  to  the 
moon,  and  it  is  a  light  of  the  same  nature  both  in 
the  one  and  in  the  other.  The  holiness  of  a  crea- 
ture is  nothing  else  but  the  reflection  of  the  Divine 
holiness  upon  it  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(2816.)  There  is  as  little  proportion  between  the 
holiness  of  the  Divine  majesty  and  that  of  the  most 
righteous  creature,  as  there  is  between  the  nearness 
of  a  person  that  stands  upon  a  mountain  to  the  sun, 
and  of  him  that  beholds  him  in  a  vale  ;  one  is 
nearer  than  the  other,  but  it  is  an  advantage  not  to 
be  boasted,  in  regard  of  the  v^^st  distance  that  is 
between  the  sun  and  the  elevated  spectator. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(2817.)  No  creature  can  be  essentially  holy  but 
by  participation  from  the  chief  fountain  of  holiness, 
but  we  must  have  the  same  kind  of  holiness,  the 
same  truth  of  holiness  ;  as  a  short  line  may  be  as 
straight  as  another,  though  it  parallel  it  not  in  the 
immense  length  of  it ;  a  copy  may  have  the  likeness 
of  the  original,  though  not  the  same  perfection. 
We  cannot  be  good  without  eyeing  some  exemplar 
of  goodness  as  the  pattern.     No  pattern  is  so  suit- 

a  H 


HOLJNESS. 


(    482    ) 


holiness;. 


able  as  that  which  is  the  highest  goodness  and 
puriiy.  Tiiat  limner  that  would  draw  the  most 
excellent  piece  fixes  his  eye  upon  the  most  excellent 
pattern.  He  that  would  be  a  good  orator,  or  poet, 
or  artificer,  considers  some  person  most  excellent  in 
each  kind  as  the  object  of  his  imitation.  Who  so 
fit  as  God  to  be  viewed  as  the  pattern  of  holiness  in 
our  intendment  ol,  and  endeavours  after,  holiness? 
The  Stoics,  one  of  the  best  sects  of  philosophers, 
advised  their  disciples  to  pitch  upon  some  eminent 
example  of  virtue,  according  to  which  to  form 
their  lives,  as  Socrates,  &c.  But  true  holiness  doth 
not  only  endeavour  to  live  the  life  of  a  good  man, 
but  chooses  to  live  a  divine  hfe.  As  before  the 
man  was  "alienated  from  the  life  of  God,"  so  upon 
his  /eturn  he  aspires  after  the  life  of  God.  To 
endeavour  to  be  like  a  good  man  is  to  make  one 
image  like  another,  to  set  our  clocks  by  other  clocks 
with  Hit  regarding  the  sun;  but  true  holiness  con- 
sists in  a  likeness  to  the  most  exact  sampler.  God 
being  the  first  purity,  is  the  rule  as  well  as  the 
spring  of  all  purity  in  the  creature,  the  chief  and 
first  object  of  imitation. 

— Charnockf  1628-1680. 

8.  Is  well-pleasing'  to  God. 

(2818.)  God  is  essentially,  originally,  and  effi- 
ciently holy  :  all  the  holiness  in  men  and  ani;els  is 
but  a  crystal  stream  that  runs  from  this  t^lorious 
ocean.  God  loves  holiness,  because  it  is  His  own 
image.  A  king  cannot  but  love  to  see  his  own 
effigies  stamped  on  coin.  God  counts  holiness  His 
glory,  and  the  most  sparkling  jewel  of  His  crown. 
"  Glorious  in  holiness."  — Walson,  1696. 

(2819.)  It  must  be  a  prospect  pleasing  to  God 
Himself  to  see  His  creation  for  ever  beautifying  in 
His  eyes,  and  drawing  nearer  to  Ilim  by  greater 
degrees  of  resemblance.     — Addison,  i6'j2-i']ig. 

4.  Is  absolutely  necessary. 
( I . )   To  our  salvation. 

(2820.)  You  may  as  well  see  without  light,  and 
be  supported  without  earth,  or  live  without  food,  as 
bg  saved  without  holiness,  or  happy  without  the  one 
thing  necessary  (Heb.  xii.  14  ;  John  iii.  3-5  ;  Matt. 
xviii.  3).  And  when  this  is  resolved  of  by  God,  and 
established  as  His  standing  law,  and  He  hath  told 
it  you  so  oft  and  plainly,  for  any  man  now  to  say, 
"  1  will  yet  hope  for  better,  I  hope  to  be  saved  on 
easier  terms,  without  all  this  ado,"  is  no  belter 
than  to  set  his  face  against  the  God  of  heaven,  and 
instead  of  believing  God,  to  believe  the  contra- 
iiction  of  his  own  ungodly  heart ;  and  to  hope  to 
be  saved  whether  God  will  or  not  ;  and  to  give  the 
lie  to  his  Creator,  under  the  pretence  of  trust  and 
hope.  It  is  indeed  to  hope  for  impossibilities.  To 
be  saved  without  holiness  is  to  see  without  eyes, 
and  to  live  without  life.  And  who  is  so  foolish  as 
to  hope  for  this  ?  Few  of  you  are  so  unreasonable 
as  to  hope  for  a  crop  at  harvest,  without  ploughing 
or  sowing  ;  or  for  a  house  without  building  ;  or  for 
strength  without  eating  and  drinking  ;  or  to  sleep 
and  play,  when  you  have  nothing  to  maintain  your 
families,  and  say  you  hope  that  God  will  maintain 
both  you  and  them.  Arid  yet  this  were  a  far  wiser 
kind  of  hope,  than  to  ho]:>e  to  be  saved  without  the 
one  thing  necessary  to  saivaiion. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2821.)  Holiness  indeed  is  not  the  cause  of  our 


justification,  but  it  is  the  concomitant  ;  the  heat  ic 
the  sun  is  not  the  cause  of  its  light,  but  it  is  the 
concomitant.  It  is  absurd  to  imagine  that  God 
should  justify  a  people,  and  they  go  on  in  sin.  If 
God  should  justify  a  people  and  not  sanctify  them. 
He  should  justify  a  people  whom  He  could  not 
glorify.  God,  as  He  is  an  holy  God,  cannot  lay  a 
sinner  in  His  bosom.  The  metal  is  first  refined 
before  the  king's  stamp  is  put  upon  it  :  first  the 
soul  is  refined  with  holiness,  before  God  puts  the 
royal  stamp  of  justification  upon  it. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(2. )   To  our  acceptance  with  God. 

(2822. )  A  mere  existence  or  being  is  an  indifferent 
thing  (it  is  a  rasa  tainila),  that  may  be  coloured 
over  with  sin  or  holiness ;  and  accordingly  it 
receives  its  value  from  these ;  as  a  picture  is 
esteemed  not  from  the  materials  upon  which  it  is 
drawn,  but  from  the  draught  itself.  Holiness 
elevates  the  worth  of  the  being  in  which  it  is,  and 
is  of  more  value  than  the  being  itself.  As  in 
scarlet,  the  bare  dye  is  of  greater  value  than  the 
cloth.  Sin  debases  the  being  in  which  it  is ;  and 
makes  the  soul  more  unlike  God,  in  respect  of  its 
qualities,  than  it  is  likellim  in  respect  of  itssubstance. 
It  is  not  the  alliance  of  flesh  and  blood,  but  the 
resemblance  of  viitue,  that  makes  the  greatest  like- 
ness between  the  father  and  the  son.  Consanguinity 
and  likeness  of  features  will  not  so  much  incite  him 
to  love,  as  a  dissimilitude,  by  reason  of  vice,  will 
cause  him  to  disinherit  him.  Better  have  no  son, 
than  a  prodigal,  profane,  unclean  son ;  better  not 
to  be  a  man,  than  an  irreligious  man ;  better  an 
innocent  nothing,  than  a  sinful  being.  God  has 
shed  some  of  His  perfections  upon  the  natural 
fabric  of  the  soul,  in  that  He  made  it  a  spiritual, 
immaterial  substance,  refined  from  all  the  dross 
of  body  and  matter  ;  but  the  chief  perfection  of  it 
consisted  in  this,  that  He  did  adorn  it  with  holiness. 
As  the  temple  of  Solomon  was  glorious,  because 
built  with  cedar  ;  but  its  chief  magnificence  was  the 
overlaying  it  with  gold.  But  now,  when  this  part 
of  God's  image  is  blotted  out,  He  cannot  read  His 
likeness  in  the  soul's  other  perfections.  Be  the  soul 
ever  so  spiritual  in  its  substance,  yet  if  it  be  carnal 
in  its  afiections  ;  be  it  ever  so  purified  from  the 
grossness  of  body,  yet  if  it  be  polluted  witii  the  cor- 
ruption of  sin  ;  it  has  nothing  to  show  why  God 
should  not  disown  it,  even  to  its  eternal  perdition. 
If  we  meet  with  a  letter  drawn  over  with  filthy, 
scurrilous,  unbecoming  lines,  the  fineness  of  the 
paper  will  not  rescue  it  from  the  fire.  It  is  not  thy 
strength,  thy  wit,  thy  eloquence,  that  God  so  much 
rei^ards  ;  these  indeed  may  adorn  thee,  but  it  is  thy 
holiness  that  must  save  thee.  A  sinner  appearing 
before  God,  adorned  with  the  greatest  confluence 
of  natuial  endowments,  is  like  Agag  presenting 
himself  to  Samuel  in  his  costly  robes  :  the  richness 
of  his  attire  could  not  compound  for  the  vileness  ot 
his  person.  When  tho.^e  glorious  pleas  shall  be 
produced  in  the  court  of  heaven,  "We  have  pro- 
phesied, we  have  cast  out  devils,  we  have  wrought 
wonders  ;"  God  shall  answer  them  with  one  word, 
weightier  than  them  all,  but  "ye  have  sinned." 
Howsoever  we  flatter  ourselves,  and  misjudge  of 
things,  yet  God  will  overlook  all  the  natural  per- 
fections of  the  soul,  and  punish  us  for  want  of 
morak  — South,  l63'J-l7l6. 

(2823,)  The  outward  forbearance  of  sm  'vithot-l 


HOLINESS. 


(    483    ) 


HOLINESS. 


inward  purity  can  never  commend  us  to  the  Divine 
acceptance.  A  rebel  may  be  driven  from  the 
frontiers,  but  so  long  as  he  keeps  the  royal  city  lie 
is  unsubdued.  So  if  a  lust  keeps  possession  of  the 
heart,  though  the  executive  powers  may  be  refrained 
or  disabled  from  the  outward  acts,  it  still  reigns. 

(2824.)  God  abhors  and  man  despises  the  fair 
colours  of  a  religious  profession  that  stand  out,  as  it 
were,  above  the  surface  of  the  nature,  like  the 
cppliquh  of  the  embroiderer,  instead  of  being  inter- 
woven with  the  stuff  so  as  to  become  a  part  of  it. 
Mere  outward  decorum  and  religious  decency  are 
not  what  God  requires,  though  they  are  too  often, 
alas !  what  is  presented  to  Him  in  lieu  of  the 
beauties  of  holiness.  It  is  easy  to  assume  the 
character  of  God's  people,  to  imitate  their  manners, 
to  use  their  language,  to  conform  to  their  habits. 
Tt  is  easier  to  paint  a  flower  than  to  grow  one. 

— Macmillan. 

(3.)   To  our  union  with  Christ. 

(2825.)  If  God  ordains  a  man  to  be  in  Christ, 
He  ordains  him  to  be  a  member  of  Christ,  and  the 
spou  e  of  Christ.  Now  the  head  and  members 
must  be  homogeneal,  and  husband  and  spouse 
nuist  be  of  the  same  kind  and  image.  When  Adam 
was  to  have  a  wife,  she  must  be  of  the  same  species, 
she  must  have  the  same  image  upon  her.  None  of 
the  beasts  was  fit  to  be  a  wife  for  Adam.  So  if  God 
chooseth  a  man  in  Christ,  he  must  necessarily  be 
noly.  — Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(4.)    To  our  safety  in  temptation. 

(2826.)  Pray  not  only  against  the  power  of  sin, 
jut  for  the  power  of  holiness  also.  A  naughty 
aeart  may  pray  against  his  sins,  not  out  of  any 
mward  enmity  to  them,  or  love  to  holiness,  but  be- 
cause they  are  troublesome  guests  to  his  conscience. 
His  zeal  is  false  that  seems  hot  against  sin,  but  is 
key-cold  to  holiness.  A  city  is  rebellious  that  keeps 
their  rightful  Prince  out,  though  it  receives  not  his 
enemy  in.  Nay,  the  devil  needs  not  fear,  but  at 
last  he  shall  make  that  soul  his  garrison  again,  out 
of  which  for  a  while  he  seems  shut,  so  long  as  it 
stands  empty,  and  is  not  filled  with  solid  grace 
(Matt.  xii.  44,  45).  What  indeed  should  hinder 
Satan's  re-entry  into  that  house  wb.ich  hath  none  in 
it  to  keep  him  out?  — Curnall,  1617-1679. 

(5.)    To  our  usefulness  here  or  hereafter. 

(2827.)  If  I  may  so  speak,  God  has  no  ultimate 
use  for  a  man  who  is  not  holy,  and  such  a  man 
does  not  become  what  he  was  meant  to  be.  A 
rose-tree  that  does  not  blossom  is  of  no  use  in  a 
garden.  A  vine  that  bears  no  grapes  is  of  no  use 
in  a  vineyard.  The  idiot  has  no  jilace  in  the 
organisation  of  human  life,  for  intellect  is  necessary 
for  the  fulfilment  of  the  functions  of  humanity.  A 
criminal  has  no  place  in  the  State ;  the  State  can 
do  nothing  with  him  except  put  him  to  death, 
or  shut  him  up  where  he  can  do  no  harm.  A 
vicious  man  must  be  cast  out  of  reputable  and 
decent  society,  because  he  does  not  fulfil  the 
conditions  which  are  necessary  for  a  place  in  it. 
And  in  that  Divine  and  everlasting  kingdom 
in  which  the  glory  of  God  and  the  perfection  of 
man  will  be  at  last  fully  revealed,  there  can  be  no 
place  f»r  those  who  have  not  an  intense  passion 
for  holiness,  and  who  do  not  themselves  illustrate 
its  dignity  and  beauty.  — A'.   iV.  OaJe. 


(6. )    To  our  happiness. 

(2S28.)  In  all  reasonable  creatures  there  is  a 
certain  kind  of  temper  that  is  essential  to  happiness, 
and  that  is  holiness  ;  which,  as  it  is  the  perfection, 
so  it  is  the  great  felicity  of  the  Divine  nature  :  aru.1, 
on  the  contrary,  this  is  one  chief  part  of  the  misery 
of  devils  and  of  unholy  men,  thai  they  are  of  a 
temper  contrary  to  God,  they  are  envious,  malicious, 
and  wicked  ;  that  is,  of  such  a  temper  as  is  natur- 
ally a  torment  and  disquiet  to  itsell,  and  here  the 
foundation  of  hell  is  laid  in  the  evil  disposition  of 
our  spirits  ;  and  till  that  be  cured,  which  can  only 
be  done  by  holiness,  it  is  as  impossible  for  a  wicked 
man  to  be  happy  in  himself,  as  it  is  for  a  sick  man 
to  be  at  ease  ;  and  the  external  presence  of  God, 
and  a  local  heaven, would  signify  no  more  to  make 
a  wicked  man  happy,  than  heaps  of  gold,  and 
concerts  of  music,  and  a  well-spread  table,  and  a 
rich  bed,  would  contribute  to  a  man's  ease  in  the 
paroxysms  of  a  fever,  or  in  a  violent  fit  of  the  stone. 
If  a  sensual,  or  covetous,  or  ambitious  man  were  in 
heaven,  he  would  be  like  the  rich  man  in  hell,  he 
would  be  tormented  with  a  continual  thirst ;  and 
burnt  up  in  the  flames  of  his  own  ardent  desires, 
and  would  not  meet  a  drop  of  suitable  pleasure  and 
delight  to  allay  the  heat ;  the  reason  is,  because  such 
a  man  hath  that  within  him  which  torments  him, 
and  he  cannot  be  at  ease  till  that  be  removed. 

—  Tillotson,  1630-1694. 

(7.)    To  qualify  us  for  heaven. 

(2829.)  There  is  great  danger  of  false  conceits  of 
the  way  of  heaven  when  we  make  it  broader  than 
it  is,  for  by  this  means  we  are  like  men  going  ovei 
a  bridge,  who  think  it  broader  than  it  is,  but,  being 
deceived  by  some  shadow,  sink  down  and  are 
suddenly  drowned  ;  so  men,  mistaking  the  straight 
way  to  life,  and  trusting  to  the  shadow  of  their  own 
imagination,  fall  into  the  bottomless  pit  of  hell 
before  they  are  aware.  — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

{2830.)  Holiness  is  the  image  of  God,  and  a  like- 
ness unto  Him,  which  makes  us  capable  of  com- 
munion with  Him.  As  likeness  in  one  man  unto 
another  makes  him  sociable  and  fit  to  converse 
with  another  man  his  superior,  so  holiness  for  com- 
munion with  the  great  God.  As  some  colours  are 
the  groimdwork  to  the  laying  on  of  others,  and  all 
colours  to  varnish,  so  is  grace  a  groundwork  unto 
glory  and  communion  with  Himself.  As  reason  is 
the  foundation  of  learning,  no  man  being  able  to 
attain  it  unless  he  hath  reason,  so  we  cannot  attain 
to  the  glory  of  heaven,  which  is  meant  by  adoption, 
till  such  time  as  we  have  holiness,  and  perfect  holi- 
ness. "Without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  God." 
So  that  holiness  is  the  image  of  God  which  makes 
us  like  unto  Him,  and  fit  for  communion  with  Him  ; 
and  heaven  is  but  communion  with  God. 

— Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(2831.)  Heaven  is  not  like  Noah's  ark,  where  the 
clean  beasts  and  the  unclean  entered  ;  no  unclean 
beast  comes  into  the  heavenly  ark  :  though  God 
suffer  the  wicked  to  live  a  while  on  the  earth,  He 
will  never  suffer  heaven  to  be  pestered  with  such 
vermin.  — Watson,  1696. 

(2832.)  Holiness  leads  to  heaven  :  holiness  is  the 
King  of  heaven's  highway.  "An  highway  shall  be 
there,  and  it  shall  be  called  The  way  of  holiness." 
At  Rome  there  was  the  temple  of  virtue  and 
honour,  and  they  were  to  go  vhrcugh  the  temple  of 


HOLINESS. 


(    484    ) 


HOLINESS. 


viitue  to  the  temple  of  honour:  so  we  must  go 
through  the  temple  of  holiness  to  the  temple  of 
heaven.  Glory  begins  in  virtue.  "  Who  hath  called 
us  to  glory  and  virtue."  Happiness  is  nothing  else 
but  the  quintessence  of  holiness  ;  holiness  is  glory 
militant,  and  happiness  holiness  triumphant. 

—  iVatson,  1696. 

6.  Is  true  bappinesB. 

(2833.)  Thou  hast  an  art  above  God  Himself,  if 
thou  canst  fetch  any  true  pleasure  out  of  unholiness. 
It  is  not  the  lowest  of  blasphemies  for  thee  to  charge 
the  way  of  holiness  to  be  an  enemy  to  true  pleasure  ; 
for  in  that  thou  charges!  God  Himself  to  want  true 
pleasure,  who  has  no  pleasure,  if  holiness  will  not 
yield  it.  *'  T/iou  slialt  make  them  drink  of  the  river 
of  Thy  pleasures."  Mark  that  phrase,  ''^  The  river  of 
Thy  pleasures."  God  hath  His  pleasures,  and  God 
gives  His  saints  drink  of  His  pleasures.  This  is 
the  sweet  accent  of  the  saints'  pleasures.  When  a 
prince  bids  his  servants  carry  such  a  man  down 
into  the  cellar,  and  let  him  drink  of  their  beer  or 
wine,  this  is  a  kindness  from  so  great  a  personage 
tr>  be  valued  highly.  But  for  the  prince  to  set  him  at 
his  own  table,  and  let  him  drink  of  his  own  wine,  this, 
I  hope,  is  far  more.  When  God  gives  a  man  estate, 
com,  and  wine,  and  oil,  the  comforts  of  the  creature, 
He  entertains  the  man  but  in  the  common  cellar  ; 
such  as  have  none  but  carnal  enjoyments,  they  do  but 
sit  with  the  servants,  and  in  some  sensual  pleasures  ; 
they  are  but  fellow-commoners  with  the  beasts. 
But  when  He  bestows  His  grace,  beautifies  a  soul 
with  holiness,  now  He  prefers  the  creature  the 
highest  it  is  capable  of;  He  never  sends  this  rich 
clothing  to  any,  but  he  means  to  set  such  by  Him, 
at  His  own  table  with  Him,  in  heaven's  glory. 

—  Gurnall,  161 7-1 679. 

(2834.)  Sensual  good  is  but  a  nominal  good,  if 
it  reach  not  higher.  All  that  you  hunt  after  so 
eagerly  in  the  world,  is  nothing  but  real  vanity  and 
vexation,  a  shadow  of  good,  a  picture  of  profit,  a 
dream  of  delight,  which  one  fiown  of  God  will  turn 
into  astonishing  hoTor  and  despair  :  like  a  tender 
flower  that  is  nipped  with  one  frosty  night,  or  withered 
with  one  scorching  day  ;  but  it  is  only  this  one 
thing  that  is  the  solid,  substantial,  and  enduring 
good.  The  pleasure  of  the  flesh  is  a  good  that  is 
common  to  men  with  brutes  ;  they  can  eat,  and 
drink,  and  play,  and  satisfy  their  lusts,  and  master 
one  another  as  well  as  you.  But  it  is  the  spiritual 
good  that  is  proper  to  a  reasonable  creature.  The 
pleasure  of  the  flesh  may  melt  you  into  foolish  mirth, 
and  make  you  like  drunken  men,  that  are  gallant 
fellows  in  their  own  eyes,  while  sober  men  are 
ashamed  of  them,  or  pity  them,  or  they  become  a 
laughingstock  to  others.  But  it  is  this  one  thing 
only  which  is  that  good  which  wisdom  itself  will 
justify.  A  man  that  is  tickled  may  laugh  more 
than  he  that  is  possessed  of  a  kingdom,  or  hath  the 
desires  of  his  heart  ;  but  he  is  not  therefore  to  be 
accounted  the  happier  man,  nor  will  any  wise  man 
»3  account  him.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2835.)  Will  you  say  that  godliness  is  unpleasant, 
because  it  makes  a  man  sorry  for  his  ungodliness? 
If  a  man  that  hath  killed  his  dearest  friend,  or  his 
own  father,  be  grieved  for  the  fact  when  he  Cometh 
to  repentance,  will  you  blame  his  repentance  or  his 
murder  for  his  grief?  Will  you  say,  What  a  hurtful 
thing  is  this  repentance ;  or  rather,  What  an  odious 
Clime  was  it  that  must  be  so  repented  of?    Would 


you  wish  a  man  that  hath  lived  so  long  in  sin  and 
misery,  to  have  no  sorrow  for  it  in  his  retuui — 
especially  when  it  is  but  a  healing  sorrow,  preparing 
for  remission,  and  not  a  sorrow  joined  with  despair, 
as  theirs  will  be  that  die  impenitently?  Observe 
the  complaints  of  penitent  souls,  whether  it  be  their 
present  godliness,  or  their  former  ungodliness, 
which  they  lament  1  Will  you  hear  a  man  lament 
his  former  sinful,  careless  life,  and  yet  will  you  lay 
the  blame  on  the  contrary  course  of  duty  which 
now  he  hath  undertaken? — You  may  as  wisely 
accuse  a  man  for  landing  in  a  safe  harbour,  because 
he  there  lamenteth  his  loss  by  shipwreck  while 
he  was  at  sea.  Or  as  wisely  may  you  blame  a  man 
for  rising  that  complaineth  how  he  hurt  himself  by 
his  fall.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  How  a  knowledge  of  Its  blessedness  is  to  be 
attained. 

(2S36.)  If  you  see  the  motion  of  dancers  afar  off, 
and  hear  not  the  music,  you  will  think  they  are 
frantic.  But  when  you  come  near  and  hear  the 
music,  and  observe  their  harmonical,  orderly  motion, 
you  will  take  delight  in  it,  and  desire  to  join  with 
them.  So  men  that  judge  at  a  distance  of  the  truth 
and  holy  ways  of  God,  by  the  slanderous  reports  of 
malignant  men,  will  think  of  the  godly,  as  Festus 
of  Paul,  that  they  are  beside  themselves  ;  but  if  they 
come  among  them,  and  search  more  impartially 
into  the  reasons  of  their  course,  and  specially  if 
they  join  with  ihem  in  the  inward  and  vital  actions 
of  religion,  they  will  then  be  quickly  of  another 
mind,  and  not  go  back  for  all  the  pleasures  or 
profits  of  the  world.  — Feter  Martyr, 

(2837.)  Come  near  and  search  into  the  inwards  of 
a  holy  life,  and  try  it  a  little  while  yourselves,  if  you 
would  taste  the  pleasure  of  it  ;  and  do  not  stand 
looking  on  it  at  a  distance,  where  you  see  nothing 
but  the  outside  ;  nor  judge  by  bare  hearsay,  which 
giveth  you  no  taste  or  relish  of  it.  The  sweetness 
of  honey,  or  wine,  or  meat,  is  not  known  by  looking 
on  it,  but  by  tasting  it.  Come  near  and  try  what 
it  is  to  live  in  the  love  of  God,  and  in  the  belief 
and  hope  of  life  eternal,  and  in  universal  obedience 
to  the  laws  of  Christ,  and  then  tell  us  how  these 
things  do  relish  with  you.  You  will  never  know 
the  sweetness  of  them  efi'ectually  as  long  as  you 
are  but  lookers  on,  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2838.)  In  the  works  of  nature  (and  sometimes  of 
art)  the  outside  is  so  far  from  showing  you  the 
excellencies,  that  it  is  but  a  comely  vail  to  hide 
them.  Though  you  would  have  a  handsome  cover 
for  your  watch,  yet  doth  it  but  hide  the  well- 
ordered  frame  and  useful  motions  that  are  within. 
You  must  open  it,  and  there  observe  the  parts  and 
motions  if  you  would  pass  a  right  judgment  of 
the  work.  You  would  have  a  comely  cover  for 
your  books  ;  but  it  is  but  to  hide  the  well-composed 
letters  from  your  sight,  in  which  the  sense,  and  use, 
and  excellency  doth  consist.  You  must  open  it,  if 
you  will  read  it,  and  know  the  worth  of  it.  A 
common  spectator  when  he  seeth  a  rose  or  other 
flower  or  fruit-tree,  tliinketh  he  hath  seen  all,  or 
the  chiefest  part.  But  it  is  the  secret  ui^searchable 
motions  and  operations  of  the  vegetative  life  and 
juice  within,  by  which  the  beauteous  flowers  and 
sweet  fruits  are  produced,  and  wonderfully  dif- 
ferenced from  each  other  that  are  the  excellent  part 
and  mysteries  in  these  natural  works  of  God. 
Could  you  but  see  these  secret  inward  causes  and 


HOLINESS. 


(    485    ) 


HOLINESS. 


operations,  it  would  incomparably  more  content 
you.  He  that  passeth  by  and  looketh  on  a  beehive, 
and  seeth  but  the  cover,  and  the  laborious  creatures 
going  in  and  out,  doth  see  nothing  of  the  admirable 
operations  within  which  God  hath  taught  them. 
Did  you  there  see  how  they  make  their  wax  and 
honey,  and  compose  their  combs,  and  by  what 
laws,  and  in  what  order  their  commonwealth  is 
governed,  and  their  work  carried  on,  you  would 
know  more  than  the  outside  of  the  hive  can  show 
you.  So  it  is  about  the  life  of  godliness.  If  you 
saw  the  inward  motions  of  the  quickening  Spirit 
upon  the  soul,  and  the  order  and  exercise  of  every 
grace,  and  by  what  laws  the  tlioughts  and  affections 
are  governed,  and  to  whom  they  tend,  you  would, 
then  see  more  of  the  beauty  of  religion  than  you  can 
see  by  the  outward  behaviour  of  our  assemblies. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2839. )  The  shell  is  not  sweet,  but  serves  to  hide 
the  sweeter  part  from  those  that  will  not  storm 
Vhose  walls,  that  they  may  possess  it  as  their  prize. 
The  kernel  of  religion  is  covered  with  a  shell  so 
hard  that  flesh  and  blood  cannot  break  it.  Hard 
sayings,  and  hard  providences  to  the  Church,  and 
to  particular  believers,  are  such  as  many  cannot 
break  through,  and  therefore  never  taste  the 
sweetness. 

The  most  admired  feature  and  beauty  of  any  of 
your  bodies  (which  fools  think  to  be  the  most  excel- 
lent part  of  the  body)  is  indeed  but  the  handsome, 
weJl-adorned  case  that  God  by  nature  doth  cover 
His  more  excellent  inward  works  with.  Were  you 
but  able  to  see  within  the  skin,  and  but  once  to 
observe  the  wonderful  motions,  heart,  and  brain, 
and  the  course  of  the  blood  in  the  veins  and  arteries, 
and  the  several  fermentations,  and  the  causes  and 
nature  of  chylifications  and  sanguifications  and  the 
spirits,  and  senses,  and  all  their  works ;  and  if  you 
saw  the  reason  of  every  part  and  vessel  in  this 
wondrous  frame,  and  the  causes  and  nature  of  every 
disease  ;  much  more  if  you  saw  the  excellent  nature 
and  operations  of  that  rational  soul,  that  is  the 
glory  of  all,  you  would  then  say  that  you  had  seen 
a  moie  excellent  sight  than  the  smooth  and  beau- 
teous skin  that  covers  it.  The  invisible  soul  is  of 
greater  excellency  than  all  the  visible  beauties  in 
the  world. 

So  also,  if  you  would  know  the  excellencies  of 
religion,  you  must  not  stand  without  the  doors,  or 
judge  of  it  by  the  skin  and  shell,  but  you  must  come 
near,  and  look  into  the  inward  reasons  of  it,  and 
think  of  the  difference  between  the  high  employ- 
ments of  a  saint,  and  the  poor  and  sordid  drudgery 
of  the  ungodly ;  between  walking  with  God  in 
desire  and  love  and  in  the  spiritual  use  of  His 
ordinances  and  creatures,  and  conversing  only  with 
sinful  men  and  transitoiy  vanities ;  between  the 
life  of  faith  and  hope,  which  is  daily  maintained 
by  the  foresight  of  everlasting  glory,  and  a  life  of 
mere  nature,  and  vvorldliness,  and  sensuality,  and 
idle  compliment  and  pomp,  which  are  but  the 
progenitors  of  sorrow  and  end  in  endless  despera- 
tion. Come  near,  and  try  tlie  power  of  God's 
laws,  and  of  the  workings  of  His  Spirit ;  and  think 
m  good  sadness  of  the  place  where  you  must  live 
for  ever,  and  the  glory  you  shall  see,  and  the  sweet 
enjoyment  and  employment  you  shall  have  in  the 
presence  of  the  eternal  Majesty  ;  and  think  well  of 
all  the  sweet  contrivances  and  discoveries  of  His 
love  in  Christ,  and  how  freely  they  are  offered  to 


you ;  and  how  certainly  tliey  may  be  your  own  { 
peruse  the  promises,  and  sweet  expressions  of  love 
and  grace ;  and  exercise  your  souls  in  serious 
meditation,  prayer,  thanksgiving,  and  praise ;  and 
withal  remember,  that  none  but  these  will  be  durable 
delights ;  and  tell  me  whether  a  life  of  sport,  and 
pride,  and  worldliness,  and  flesh-pleasing,  or  a  life 
of  faith  and  holiness,  be  the  better,  the  sweeter,  and 
more  pleasant  life.  — Baxter^  1615-1691. 

7.  Its  Bource. 

(2840.)  The  godly  are  "  partakers  of  the  Divine 
nature."  It  is  not  the  essence  of  God  that  is  here 
called  the  Divine  nature  that  we  partake  of;  we 
abhor  the  thoughts  of  such  blasphemous  arrogancy, 
as  if  that  grace  did  make  men  gods.  But  it  is 
called  the  Divine  nature,  in  that  it  is  caused  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  and  floweth  from  Him  as  the  light 
or  sunshine  floweth  from  the  sun.  You  use  to  say 
the  sun  is  in  the  house,  when  it  shineth  in  the 
house,  though  the  sun  itself  be  in  the  firmament 
So  the  Scripture  saith  that  God  dwelleth  in  us, 
and  Christ  and  the  Spirit  dwelleth  in  us,  when  the 
heavenly  light,  and  love,  and  life  which  streameth 
from  Him  dwelleth  in  us ;  and  this  is  called  the 
Divine  nature.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2841.)  It  is  the  sun  that  gives  light  to  the  flower 
and  paints  it  with  all  its  bright  and  varied  hue. 
The  chemical  processes  which  its  rays  set  in  motion 
form  the  leaves  and  blossoms,  and  so  arrange  the 
surfaces  that  they  reflect  various  hues  from  light 
shining  on  them  ;  and  so  it  is  with  the  believer.  It 
is  the  same  Sun  of  righteousness  which  raised  him 
from  the  dead  and  animated  him  with  the  power  of 
a  divine  life,  which  clothes  him  with  the  beauties 
of  holiness.  All  evil  is  from  ourselves,  and  all 
good  is  from  God.  — Macviillan, 

8.  Its  production  God's  aim  In  all  Els  provi- 
dences. 

(2S42.)  As  God  makes  use  of  all  the  seasons  of 
the  year  for  the  harvest,  the  frost  of  winter  as  well  as 
the  heat  of  summer  ;  so  doth  He  of  fair  and  foul, 
pleasing  and  unpleasing  providences,  for  promoting 
holiness.  Winter-providences  kill  the  weeds  of 
lusts,  and  summer-providences  ripen  and  mellow 
the  fruits  of  righteousness.  When  He  aftlicts,  'tis 
for  our  profit,  to  make  us  partakers  of  His  huliness. 
Afilictions  Bernard  compares  to  the  tezel,  which, 
though  it  be  sharp  and  scratching,  is  to  make  the 
cloth  more  pure  and  fine.  God  would  not  rub  so 
hard  if  it  were  not  to  fetch  out  the  dirt  that  is  in- 
grained in  our  natures.  God  loves  purity  so  well 
He  had  rather  see  a  hole  than  a  spot  in  His  child's 
garments.  When  He  deals  more  gently  m  His 
providences,  and  lets  His  people  sit  under  the 
sunny  bank  of  comforts  and  enjoyments,  fencing 
them  from  the  cold  blasts  of  affliction,  'tis  to  draw 
forth  the  sap  of  grace,  and  hasten  their  growth  in 
holiness.  — Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(2843.)  God's  holiness  makes  it  certain  that  He 
regards  our  holiness  as  the  very  crown  of  our  nature, 
apart  from  which  the  idea  whicli  He  desires  to 
have  illustrated  in  every  man  is  unfulfilled.  Being 
holy  Himself,  it  must  be,  and  it  is.  His  great 
concern  that  we  should  attain  to  moral  and  spiri- 
tual perfection. 

There  are  some  parents  who  care  too  much  for 
the  mere  physical  health  and  strength  of  their 
children ;  their  supreme  anx'ety,   in  fact,  is   that 


HOLINESS. 


(    486    ) 


HOLINESS. 


their  children  should  be  healthy,  beautiful  animals, 
• — everything  is  subordinated  to  that.  There  are 
others  who  are  intellectually  ambitious  in  relation 
to  their  children,  and  whose  chief  joy  is  to  recognise 
what  seems  to  them  faint  traces  and  prophecies  of 
genius,  and  everything  in  their  case  in  subordinated 
to  the  intellectual  culture  of  their  children.  Those 
of  a  nobler  temper  care  most  that  their  children 
should  have  courage,  which  lies  near  the  root  of 
all  virtue,  and  temperance  and  truthfulness  and 
generosity,  and  a  nice  sense  of  honour.  They  feel 
that  every  inferior  aim  should  be  sacrificed  to  this. 
And,  from  what  we  know  of  the  Divine  holiness, 
I  repeat  that  we  are  certain  that  God's  great  concern 
for  all  of  us  is  that  we  should  be  holy  even  as  He  is 
holy.  — Beecher. 

9.  Its  prodnction  the  end  and  otoject  of  all  reli- 
^ous  observances. 

(2844.)  Suppose  a  person  were  to  visit  one  of 
those  vast  manufactories  which  exist  in  such  variety 
in  our  large  towns,  without  knowing  what  were 
the  particular  articles  made  in  the  place  he  was 
inspecting.  When  his  first  curiosity  was  satisfied, 
and  as  the  feeling  caused  by  the  novelty  of  the 
scene  began  to  wear  away,  the  question  would  arise 
in  the  visitor's  mind,  *'  What  is  the  object  of  all  this 
busy  scene  ?  What  is  all  this  complicated  machinery 
used  for?  What  are  all  these  hundreds  of  work- 
people really  employed  in  doing  ?  Wiiat  do  they 
make  here?  And  when  this  inquiry  had  risen  to 
his  lips,  there  would  be  shown  to  him  a  beautiful 
polished  knife,  or  a  piece  of  silk  of  exquisite  texture, 
and  of  variegated  hue.  And  then  he  would  learn 
that  all  this  vast  combination  of  physical  energy 
and  intellectual  skill  was  employed  solely  to  pro- 
duce this  knife  or  this  piece  of  silk. 

Now  this  illustrates  a  law  which  prevails  through- 
out nature.  Everywhere  there  is  a  vast  accumulation 
of  forces  at  work,  to  bring  about  apparently  very 
slight  results.  Who  shall  recount  the  various 
powers  which  have  been  at  work  in  nature's  mys- 
terious recesses  to  produce  a  single  drop  of  dew? 
Who  shall  describe  the  countless  laws  which  have 
been  set  in  motion  for  the  birth  of  a  wayside  flower  ? 
Who  shall  tell  the  infinite  varieties  of  process  which 
are  at  work  in  tlie  laboratory  of  the  universe  to 
bring  down  for  us  one  ray  of  the  sunshine  which 
warms  us,  one  breath  of  the  air  without  which  we 
could  not  for  an  instant  exist  ? 

How  does  this  principle  apply  in  religious  matters  ? 
We  have,  so  to  speak,  a  vast  mass  of  Christianising 
machinery  at  work  throughout  the  world.  Now,  is 
all  this  church-building  and  church-<j;oing  an  end  in 
itself,  or  only  the  means  to  an  end  ?  I  fear  there 
are  some  who  imngine  that  church-going  is  in  itself 
the  aim  and  end  of  all  religion.  No  mistake  can  be 
more  deplorable  or  pernicious.  It  is  a  blunder  as 
egregious  as  it  would  be  for  the  visitor  to  the  manu- 
factory such  as  I  have  described,  to  suppose  that 
the  machinery  was  all  set  in  motion  merely  to  be 
gazed  at,  and  to  keep  employed  the  people  who  are 
engaged  in  tending  it.  The  manufacturer,  who 
lays  out  his  capital  in  such  costly  apparatus,  would 
find  but  an  unsatisfactory  return  at  the  end  of  the 
year  if  there  had  not  been  a  giver,  quantity  of 
finished  goods  for  profitable  sale  in  the  market.  So 
it  is  with  church-going.  It  is  wretcned  work  if  the 
worship  of  the  house  of  God  begms  and  ends  with 
the  prayers  uttered  there.  If  1  were  asked,  W'hat  is 
the  end  and   object  of  all   religious   observance  ? — 


what,  to  carry  out  the  metaphor,  is  the  finished 
proditct  intended  as  the  result  of  all  the  machinery 
of  religious  worship  whether  public  or  private  ? — I 
should  reply.  Holiness  0/ lij'e.  It  is  just  in  so  far  as 
religion  produces  holiness  of  life  that  it  is  religion. 
When  it  fails  to  do  this,  it  is  not  real  religion  at  all ; 
it  is  a  spurious,  counterfeit  religion,  a  delusion,  a 
mockery,  a  snare  of  the  devil.  — Hooper. 

10.  Sliotild  be  continually  striven  after, 
( I .)  Notwithstanding  that  it  may  expose  us  to  hatred 
and  sitjfering. 

(2845.)  Nothing  more  easy  and  common  than  for 
the  most  ungodly  to  say  they  are  all  for  a  godly 
life  ;  and  God  forbid  that  any  should  be  against  it ; 
when  yet  they  hate  and  reject  it  indeed,  when  it 
conies  to  the  practice  of  those  particular  duties  in 
which  it  doth  consist.  It  is  not  godliness  that  they 
hate  and  reproach,  but  it  is  fervent  prayer,  holy 
conference,  meditation,  self-denial,  mortification  of 
the  desires  of  the  flesh,  heavenly-mindedness,  &c. 
In  general  they  will  say  tliat  God's  law  must  be 
obeyed,  and  His  will  preferred  before  their  own. 
But  when  it  comes  to  the  particulars,  they  love  Iliii; 
not  above  all,  they  tak-e  His  name  in  vain,  they 
keep  not  holy  His  day,  they  disobey  superiors  that 
would  reform  them,  they  are  envious,  malicious, 
covetous,  lustful,  and  break  all  the  commandments 
in  particular,  which  in  general  they  profess  to  keep. 
As  if  your  servant  should  promise  to  do  your  work  ; 
and  when  you  set  him  to  it,  one  thing  is  too  hard, 
and  another  he  is  not  used  to,  and  so  he  hath  his 
exceptions  against  the  greatest  part  which  he  under- 
took. As  if  one  should  wound  one  of  you  in  the 
head,  and  stab  you  to  the  heart,  and  cut  off  an  arm 
or  a  leg,  and  say,  "  I  wish  the  man  no  harm  ;  it  is 
not  the  man  thiit  I  hate  or  hurt,  but  (mly  the  head, 
the  heart,  the  arm,"  &c.  Even  so  it  is  not  holiness 
that  these  men  hate  and  speak  against  ;  but  it  is  so 
much  praying,  and  meditating,  and  reading  the 
Scriptures,  and  making  such  a  stir  about  religion 
when  less  ado  may  serve  the  turn. 

— Baxter,  16 15- 169 1. 

(2846.)  I  must  profess  that  since  I  observed  the 
course  of  the  world,  and  the  concord  of  the  word 
and  providences  of  God,  I  took  it  for  a  notable 
proof  of  man's  fall,  and  of  the  verity  of  the  Scrip- 
ture, and  the  supernatural  origin  of  true  sanctifica- 
tion,  to  find  such  a  universal  enmity  between  the 
holy  and  the  serpentine  seed,  and  to  find  Cain  and 
Abel's  case  so  ordinarily  exemplified,  and  him  that 
is  born  after  the  flesh  to  persecute  him  that  is  born 
after  the  Spirit.  And  methinks  to  this  day  it  is  a 
great  and  visible  help  for  the  confirmation  of  our 
Christian  faith. 

But  that  which  is  much  remarkable  in  it  is,  that 
nothing  else  in  the  world,  except  the  crossing  of 
men's  carnal  interest,  doth  meet  with  any  such 
universal  enmity.  A  man  may  be  as  learned  as  he 
can,  and  no  man  hate  him  for  it.  If  he  excel  all 
others,  all  men  will  praise  him  and  proclaim  his 
excellency  ;  he  may  be  an  excellent  linguist,  an 
excellent  philosopher,  an  excellent  physician,  an 
excellent  logician,  an  excellent  orator,  and  all  com- 
mend him.  Among  musicians,  architects,  soldiers, 
seamen,  and  all  arts  and  sciences,  men  value, 
prefer,  and  praise  the  best ;  yea,  even  speculative 
theology,  such  wits  as  the  schoolmen  and  those  that 
arc  called  great  divines  are  honoured  by  all,  and 
meet,  as  such,  but  with  little  enmity,  presecution. 


HOLmESS. 


(  487  ) 


HOLINESS. 


or  obloquy  in  the  world.  Though  I  know  that 
even  a  (jalilteus,  a  Campanella,  and  many  such 
have  sutfered  by  the  Roman  Inquisitors,  that  was 
not  so  much  in  enmity  to  their  speculations  or 
opinions,  as  through  a  fear  lest  new  philosuphical 
notions  should  unsettle  men's  mimls  and  open  the 
way  to  new  opinions  in  theology,  and  so  prove 
injurious  to  the  kingdom  and  interest  of  Rome.  I 
know  also  that  Demosthenes,  Cicero,  Seneca, 
Lucan,  and  many  other  learned  men,  have  died  by 
the  hands  or  power  of  tyrants.  But  this  was  not 
for  their  learning,  but  for  their  opposition  to  those 
tyrants'  wills  and  interests.  And  1  know  that  some 
religious  men  have  suffered  for  their  sins  and  follies, 
and  some  for  their  meddling  too  much  with  secular 
affairs,  as  the  counsellors  of  princes,  as  Functius, 
Justus  Jonas,  and  many  others.  But  yet  no  parts, 
no  excellency,  no  skill  or  learning  is  hated  commonly, 
but  honoured  in  the  world ;  nc,  not  theological 
learning,  save  only  this  practical  godliness  and 
religion,  and  the  principles  of  it,  which  only 
rendereth  men  amiable  to  God,  through  Christ, 
and  saveth  men's  souls. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2.)  In  spite  of  misrepresentation. 

(2847.)  When  a  sinner  is  convinced  of  the 
necessity  of  holiness  in  a  time  and  place  where  it 
is  rare,  and  ungodliness  is  the  common  road,  the 
necessary  singularity  of  such  a  one  in  giving  up 
himself  to  the  will  of  God,  is  commonly  charged  on 
him  as  his  pride  ;  as  if  he  were  proud  that  cannot 
be  contented  to  be  damned  in  hell  for  company 
with  the  most  ;  or  to  despise  salvation  if  most 
despise  it,  and  to  forsake  his  God  when  most  forsake 
Him,  and  to  serve  the  devil  when  most  men  serve 
him.  If  you  will  not  swear,  and  be  drunk,  and 
game,  and  spend  your  time,  even  the  Lord's  day,  in 
vanity  and  sensuality,  as  if  you  were  afraid  of  being 
saved,  and  as  if  it  were  your  business  to  work  out 
your  damnation,  the  world  will  call  you  proud  and 
singular,  and  "think  it  strange  that  you  run  not 
with  them  to  excess  of  riot,  speaking  evil  of  you." 
You  shall  quickly  hear  them  say,  "What!  will 
you  be  wiser  than  all  the  town  ?  What  a  saint  ! 
What  a  holy  precisian  is  this  !  "  When  Lot  was 
grieved  for  the  lilthiness  of  Sodom,  they  scorned 
jjiim  as  a  proud  controller.  "  This  one  fellow 
fcame  in  to  sojourn,  and  he  will  needs  be  a  judge." 

(3. )  Notwithstanding  that  perfection  is  unattainable 
in  this  life. 

(2848.)  It  is  a  weak  pretence  that,  because  the 
consummate  measure  of  sanctification  can  only  be 
attained  in  the  next  life,  therefore  we  should  not 
endeavour  after  it  here.  For  by  sincere  and  constant 
endeavours  we  make  nearer  approaches  to  it,  and 
according  to  the  degrees  of  our  progress  such  are 
those  of  our  joy.  As  nature  has  prescribed  to  all 
heavy  bodies  their  going  to  the  centre,  and  although 
none  comes  to  it,  and  many  are  at  a  great  distance 
from  it,  yet  the  ordination  of  nature  is  not  in  vain  ; 
because,  by  virtue  of  it,  every  heavy  body  is  always 
tending  thither  in  motion  ox  inclination :  so  although 
we  cannot  reach  to  complete  holiness  in  this  im- 
perfect state,  yet  it  is  not  in  vain  that  the  Gospel 
prescribes  it,  and  infuses  into  Christians  those  dis- 
positions whereby  they  are  gradually  carried  to  the 
full  accomplishment  of  it.  Not  to  arrive  at  perfec- 
tion is  the  weakness  of  the  flesh,  not  to  aspire  after 
it  i^  the  fault  of  the  spirit,      — Bales,  162S-1699. 


And  what  thought  they  of  Noah,  that  walked  with 
God  in  so  great  singularity,  when  the  world  was 
drowned  in  (and  for)  their  wickedness?  When 
David  "humbled  his  soul  with  fasting"  they  turned 
it  to  "his  rep'oach."  Especially  wnen  any  of  the 
servants  of  Christ  do  press  towards  the  highest 
degree  of  holiness,  they  shall  be  sure  to  be  accounted 
proud  and  hypocrites.  And  yet  they  accuse  not 
that  chikl  or  servant  of  pride  who  excelleth  all  the 
rest  in  pleasing  ilieni  and  doing  their  work.  Nor 
do  they  take  a  sick  man  to  be  proud,  if  he  be  more 
careful  than  others  to  recover  his  health.  But  he 
that  will  do  most  for  heaven,  and  most  carefully 
avoideth  sin  and  hell,  and  is  most  serious  in  his 
religion,  and  most  industrious  to  please  his  God, 
this  man  shall  be  accounted  proud. 

— Baxter,  X61S-1691. 

11.  How  it  Is  to  be  attained. 

(2849.)  Often  look  on  the  perfect  pattern  which 
Christ  in  His  holy  example  hath  given  thee  for  a 
holy  life.  Our  hand  will  be  as  the  copy  is  we  write 
after  ;  if  we  set  low  examples  before  us,  it  cannot 
be  expected  we  should  rise  high  ourselves ;  and 
indeed  the  holiest  saint  on  earth  is  too  low  to  be 
our  pattern,  because  perfection  in  holiness  must  be 
aimed  at  by  the  weakest  Christian  (2  Cor.  vii.  i), 
and  that  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  best  of  saints  in 
this  lower  world.  If  thou  wilt  walk  holily,  thou 
must  not  only  endeavour  to  do  what  Christ  com- 
mands, but  as  Christ  Himself  did ;  thou  must 
labour  to  shape  every  letter  in  thy  copy,  action  in 
life,  in  a  holy  imitation  of  Christ. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(2850.)  A  painter,  employed  in  the  limning  some 
excellent  piece,  has  not  only  his  pattern  before  his 
eyes,  but  his  eye  frequently  upon  the  pattern,  to 
possess  his  fancy  to  draw  forth  an  exact  resemblance. 
He  that  would  express  the  image  of  God  must 
imprint  upon  his  mind  the  purity  of  His  nature, 
cherish  it  in  his  thoughts,  that  the  excellent  beauty 
of  it  may  pass  from  his  understanding  to  his  affec- 
tions, and  from  his  affections  to  his  practice.  How 
can  we  arise  to  a  conformity  to  God  in  Christ, 
whose  most  holy  nature  we  glance  upon,  and  more 
rarely  sink  our  souls  into  the  depths  of  it  by  medita- 
tion ?  Be  frequent  in  the  meditation  of  the  holiness 
of  God.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

{2851.)  It  is  not  by  fits  and  starts  that  men 
become  holy.  It  is  not  occasional,  but  continuous, 
prolonged,  and  lifelong  efforts  that  are  required  ;  to 
be  daily  at  it ;  always  at  it ;  resting  but  to  renew 
the  work  ;  falling  but  to  rise  again.  It  is  not  by  a 
few,  rough,  spasmodic  blows  of  the  hammer,  that  a 
graceful  statue  is  brought  out  of  the  marble  block,  but 
by  the  labour  of  continuous  days,  and  many  delicate 
touches  of  the  sculptor's  chiseL  It  is  not  a  sudden 
gush  of  water,  the  roaring  torrent  of  a  summer 
Hood,  but  a  continuous  flow,  that  wears  the  rock ; 
and  a  constant  dropping  that  hollows  out  the  stone. 
It  is  not  with  a  rush  and  a  spring  that  we  are  to 
reach  Christs  character,  attain  to  perfect  saintship  ; 
but  step  by  step,  foot  by  font,  hand  over  hand,  we 
are  slowly  and  often  painfully  to  mount  the  ladder 
that  rests  on  earth  and  rises  to  heaven. 

— Guthrie. 

(2852.)  A  false  notion  of  holiness  springs  up  in 
many  minds,  and  finds  such  a  lodgment  that  it  is 
very  difficult    to    dispossess    it.     Holinfss  is  sup- 


HOLINESS. 


(    4S8     ) 


HOLTNESS. 


posed  to  be  an  aciievement  mistered  at  length — 
much  as  a  lesson  is  mastered — by  a  variety  of 
exercises,  prayers,  fastings,  meditations,  almsdeeds, 
self-discipline,  sacraments ;  and  when  mastered, 
a  sort  of  permanent  acquisition,  which  goes  on 
increasing  as  the  stock  of  these  spiritual  exercises 
accumulates.  It  is  not  regarded  in  its  true  light  as 
a  momentary  receiving  out  of  Christ's  fulness,  grace 
for  grace,  as  the  result  of  His  in  workings  in  a 
heart  which  finds  the  task  of  self-renewal  hopeless, 
and  makes  itself  over  to  Him,  to  be  moulded  by 
His  plastic  hands,  resigning,  of  course,  its  will  to 
Him  in  all  things,  without  which  resignation  such 
a  surrender  would  be  a  horrible  hypocrisy. 

Now  let  us  take  up  the  illustrations  of  this  truth  ; 
and  first  His  own  illustration,  the  wisest,  pro- 
foundest,  and  most  beautiful  of  all.  "As  the 
branch  cannot  l)ear  fruit  of  itself  except  it  abide  in 
the  vine  ;  no  more  can  ye,  except  ye  abide  in  Me  ; " 
"Apart  from  Me  ye  can  do  nothing."  The  cir- 
culating sap,  which  is  the  life  of  the  tree,  is  indeed  in 
the  vine-branch  so  long  as  it  holds  of  the  stem  ; 
but  in  no  sense  whatever  is  it  from  the  vine-branch. 
Cut  off  the  branch  from  the  stem,  and  it  ceases 
instantaneously  to  live,  for  it  has  no  independent 
life.  Even  so  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  while  of  course 
our  hearts  are  the  sphere  of  their  manifestation,  are 
in  no  sense  from  our  hearts  ;  they  are  not  the  result 
of  the  energising  of  our  own  will ;  they  are  not  a 
righteousness  of  our  own,  built  up  by  a  series  of 
endeavours,  or  a  laborious  process  of  self-discipline, 
but  a  righteousness  outflowing  continually  from  the 
fulness  of  grace  which  is  in  Christ. 

Another  illustration  may  perhaps  help  to  impress 
the  truth.  When  we  walk  abroad  on  a  beautiful 
day,  and  survey  a  landscape  lit  up  by  the  beams  of 
a  summer  sun,  our  eye  catches  a  variety  of  colours 
lying  on  the  surface  of  this  landscape.    There  is  the 

J'ellow  of  the  golden  grain,  the  green  of  the  pasture- 
and,  the  dark  brown  of  those  thick  planted  copses, 
the  silver  gleam  of  the  stream  which  winds  through 
them,  the  faint  blue  of  the  distant  hills  seen  in  per- 
spective, the  more  intense  blue  of  the  sky,  the  purple 
tinge  of  yonder  sheet  of  water ;  but  none  of  these 
colours  reside  in  the  landscape,  they  are  not  the 
properties  of  the  material  objects  on  which  they 
rest.  All  colours  are  wrapt  up  in  the  sunlight, 
which,  as  is  well  known,  may  be  seen  resolved  mto 
its  elementary  colours  in  the  prism  or  the  rainbow. 
Apart  from  the  sunlight  no  object  has  any  colour  ; 
as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that,  as  soon  as  light  is 
withdrawn  from  the  landscape,  the  colours  fade 
from  the  robe  of  nature.  The  difference  of  colour 
in  different  objects,  while  the  sun  is  shining,  is 
produced  by  some  subtle  difference  of  texture  or 
superficies,  which  makes  each  object  absorb  certain 
rays,  and  reflect  certain  other  rays,  in  different  pro- 
portions. Now  Christ  is  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
in  whom  dwells  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead 
bodily — the  fair  colour  of  every  grace  and  Christian 
virtue.  When  Christ  is  shining  upon  the  heart, 
then  these  virtues  are  manifested  there,  by  one 
Christian  grace  of  one  description,  by  another  of 
another,  according  to  their  different  receptivity  and 
natural  temperament ;  just  as,  when  the  sun  is 
shining,  colours  are  thrown  upon  a  landscape,  and 
reflected  by  the  different  objects  in  different  pro- 
portions. But  as  no  part  of  the  landscape  has  any 
colour  in  the  absence  of  the  sun,  so  Christians  have 
no  grace  except  fn.m  Chiist,  noi  hold  any  virtue 
indepitnifntiy  of  Him. 


Let  it  be  clearly  understood,  then,  that  the  great 
secret  of  bringing  forth  much  fruit,  or,  in  other 
words,  of  all  advance  in  grace  and  holiness,  is, 
according  to  the  profound  teaching  of  our  Lord 
Himself,  a  constant  keeping  open  (and  if  possible, 
enlarging)  the  avenues  of  the  soul  towards  Him. 
If  a  vine-branch  is  to  sprout  and  throw  out  new 
suckers  and  shoots,  the  tube  by  which  it  com- 
municates with  the  stock  of  the  tree  must  adhere 
tightly  to  the  stem,  and  be  well  open  for  the  pas- 
sage of  the  sap.  If  you  desire  to  see  the  colours  of 
furniture  in  this  room,  whose  shutters  are  closed, 
throw  open  the  shutters,  and  admit  the  full  flood  of 
sunlight.  And  if  you  desire  to  see  the  dead  heart  put 
forth  the  energies  of  spiritual  life,  and  the  dark 
heart  illumined  by  the  fair  colours  of  spiritual  grace, 
throw  wide  open  the  passage  of  communication 
between  Christ  and  it,  and  allow  the  Life  which  is 
in  Him,  and  the  Light  which  is  in  Him,  to  cir- 
culate freely  through  it.  — Goulbum. 

(2853.)  What  if  the  poor  bird  im'^risoned  in  the 
cage  should  be  thinking  that,  if  it  is  ever  to  gain  its 
liberty,  it  must  be  by  its  own  exertions,  and  by 
vigorous  and  frequent  strokes  of  its  wings  against 
the  bars  ?  If  it  did  so,  it  would  ere  long  fall  back 
breathless  and  exhausted,  faint  and  sore,  and  despair- 
ing. And  the  soul  will  have  a  similar  experience 
which  thinks  that  Christ  has  indeed  won  pardon  and 
acceptance  for  her  (but  that  sanctification  she  must 
win  for  herself),  and  under  this  delusion  beats  her- 
self sore  in  vain  efforts  to  correct  the  propensities  of 
a  heart  which  the  Word  of  God  pronounces  to  be 
"desperately"  wicked.  That  heart, — you  can 
make  nothing  of  it  yourself;  leave  it  to  Christ,  in 
quiet  dependence  upon  His  grace.  Suffer  Him  to 
open  the  prison  doors  for  you,  and  then  you  shall 
fly  out  and  hide  yourself  in  your  Lord's  bosom,  and 
there  find  rest.  Yield  up  the  soul  to  Him,  and 
place  it  in  His  hands,  and  you  shall  at  once  begin 
to  have  the  delightful  experience  of  His  power  in 
sanctifying. 

"Yield  up  the  soul,"  we  say  ;  and  in  saying  so, 
we  of  course  imply  (though  it  needs  to  be  expressed, 
as  well  as  implied)  that  you  yield  up  your  will 
without  reserve.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  yielding 
up  the  soul  without  yielding  up  the  will ;  for  the 
will  is  the  chiefpower  of  the  soul.  Christ  Himself 
cannot  sanctify  a  moral  agent  whose  will  holds 
persistently  to  his  corruption.  Even  a  man  cannot 
liberate  a  bird  from  its  cage  which  likes  to  stay 
there,  refuses  to  move  when  the  door  is  opened,  and 
flies  back  when  it  is  taken  out.  God  has  given  us 
a  free  will,  the  exercise  of  which  cannot  indeed 
change  our  hearts,  or  renew  our  moral  nature,  but 
which  can  say  "Nay"  to  the  world,  to  the  flesh, 
and  the  devil ;  which  shows  that  it  can  say  "  Nay  " 
by  saying  it  sometimes  when  worldly  interests  are 
concerned.  And  this  "Nay"  it  must  say  if  the 
soul  is  to  be  sanctified  and  bring  forth  fruits. 

— Goulbum. 

(2854.)  Holiness  of  character  is  not  a  thing  into 
which  we  can  jump  in  a  moment,  and  just  when 
we  please.  It  is  not  like  a  mushroom,  the  growth 
of  an  hour.  It  cannot  be  attained  w.thout  great 
watchfulness,  earnest  effort,  much  prayer,  i.nJ  a 
very  close  walk  with  Jesus.  Like  tlie  coral  reef 
which  grows  by  little  daily  additions  until  it  is 
strong  enough  to  resist  the  miyhty  waves  of  the 
ocean,   so   is  a  holy  character  made   up   of  what 


HOLINESS. 


(     189    ) 


HOLINESS. 


may  be  called  littles,  though  in  truth  each  of  those 
littles  is  of  vast  importance.  Little  duties  prayer- 
fully discharged  ;  little  temptations  earnestly  resisted 
in  the  strength  which  God  supplies  out  of  the  fulness 
which  He  has  made  to  dwell  in  Jesus  Christ  for 
His  people  ;  little  sins  avoided,  or  crucified  ; — these 
all  together  help  to  form  that  holy  character  which, 
in  the  hour  of  need,  will  be,  under  God,  such  a  sure 
defence  to  the  Christian.  — Aubrey  C.  Price, 

(2855.)  The  mere  doing  of  God's  will  cannot 
produce  positive  goodness  in  a  man,  just  because  a 
man  must  be  good  before  he  can  do  that  will.  But 
it  naturally  tends  to  produce  in  that  man  a  love  to 
goodness  and  a  dislike  of  its  opposite.  Suppose  a 
man  to  become  the  servant  of  God,  as  a  conse- 
quence of  this  he  does  the  will  of  God  from  a  sense 
of  duty.  But  at  first  virtue  thus  performed  may  be 
found  irksome  ;  there  may  be  no  affection  in  the 
heart  for  the  thing  performed  ;  no  strong  or  rendy 
recoil  from  its  opposite.  What  is  done  is  done 
from  a  sense  of  duty  and  obligation,  from  an 
honourable  motive,  it  is  true,  but  yet  without  that 
full  and  overflowing  sense  of  delight  which  would 
result  from  a  real  and  deep-rooted  love  for  the 
thing  itself.  To  produce  this  result,  then,  is  mani- 
festly desirable,  for  without  it,  the  moral  excellence 
of  the  man  is  not  complete.  But  how  is  it  to  be 
produced  ?  The  language  of  Paul  suggests  the 
reply  :  It  is  by  continuing  to  serve  God.  If  we 
go  on  doing  our  duty,  by  and  by  what  was  first 
done  merely  from  a  sense  of  obligation  will  come 
to  be  done  in  love  to  the  thing  itself.  The  real 
loveliness  and  value  of  God's  law  will  unfold  itself 
to  us  ;  the  doing  of  our  hand  will  come  to  be  the 
delight  of  our  heart ;  that  which  was  at  first  a  way 
of  performance  merely  will  come  to  be  a  way  of 
pleasantness  ;  and  so  it  will  be  found  that  the  grand 
result  of  serving  of  God  is  "towards  holiness." 
There  are  many  analogies  by  which  this  process  of 
our  regenerated  nature  might  be  illustrated.  Take, 
for  instance,  the  case  of"  a  child  learning  to  read. 
At  first  his  efforts  are  simple  acls  of  obedience.  He 
sees  no  excellence  in  his  daily  tasks.  He  performs 
them  simply  because  his  master  bids  him.  But  as 
he  advances,  learning  takes  hold  of  his  mind. 
There  is  a  fitness  in  it  to  interes't  and  engross  him. 
He  sees  how  good  it  is  to  have  knowledge,  and  he 
feels  how  pleasant  it  is  to  hold  intercourse  with 
other  minds  by  books.  He  comes  to  feel  as  if  he 
could  not  live  without  this  exercise.  It  has  grown 
to  be  part  and  parcel  of  his  being,  his  chosen  occu- 
pation, and  his  highest  treat.  And  thus  what  he 
at  first  did  simply  because  his  master  bade  him  do 
it,  has,  by  the  mere  act  of  doing  it,  grown  to  be  a 
treasured  delight  to  him.  Of  that  child's  service  to 
his  teacher  we  may  surely  say  that  the  fruit  of  it  has 
been  towards  a  love  of  letters. 

Just  so  is  it  with  the  case  before  us.  We  begin 
God's  service  because  He  calls  us  to  it,  we  end  by 
loving  the  service  for  its  own  sake.  And  this  is  an 
advanced  stage  of  the  divine  life.  It  implies  a 
greater  likeness  to  God  who  doth  that  which  is 
good,  not  from  any  outward  obligation,  but  from 
the  free  and  unalterable  propensity  of  His  eternal 
nature  towards  that  which  is  good.  We  thus  cease 
to  be  servants,  and  grow  into  the  life  and  liberty  of 
sons.  Our  obedience  to  God  has  brought  us  in 
happy  advance  towards  His  presence.  We  have 
be*"n  doing  the  will  of  the  Father,  and  the  conse- 
quence is,  that  our  own  will  has  becomi  identified 


with  His.  Inclination  and  duty  now  go  hand  in 
hand.  The  sense  of  bondage  has  disappeared,  and 
a  sweet  sense  of  free  choice  has  come  in  its  place. 
We  have  learned  what  it  is  to  be  holy  as  God  is 
holy.  By  serving  Him  we  have  found  our  fruit 
unto  holiness.  — Akxa^ider. 

12.  Must  pervade  the  whole  life,  and  cause  iu 
to  hate  all  sin. 

(2856.)  God  hath  given  us  precepts  of  such  a 
holiness  and  such  a  purity,  such  a  meekness  and 
such  humility,  as  hath  no  pattern  but  Christ,  no 
precedent  but  the  purities  of  God  :  and,  therefore, 
it  is  intended  we  should  live  with  a  life  whose 
actions  are  not  chequered  with  white  and  black, 
half  sin  and  half  virtue.  God's  sheep  are  not  like 
Jacob's  flock,  "streaked  and  spotted  ;  "  it  is  an  entire 
holiness  that  God  requires,  and  will  not  endure  to 
have  a  holy  course  interrupted  by  the  dishonour  of 
a  base  and  ignoble  action.  I  do  not  mean  that  a 
man's  life  can  be  as  pure  as  the  sun,  or  the  rays  of 
celestial  Jerusalem ;  but  like  the  moon,  in  which 
there  are  spots,  but  they  are  no  deformity ;  a  les- 
sening only  and  an  abatement  of  light,  no  cloud  to 
hinder  and  draw  a  vail  before  its  face,  but  some- 
times it  is  not  so  severe  and  bright  as  at  other  times. 
Every  man  hath  his  indiscretions  and  infirmities,  his 
arrests  and  sudden  incursions,  his  neighbourhoods 
and  semblances  of  sin,  his  little  violences  to  reason, 
and  peevish  melancholy,  and  humorous,  fantastic 
discourses  ;  unaptness  to  a  devout  prayer,  his  fond- 
ness to  judge  favourably  in  his  own  cases,  little 
deceptions,  and  voluntary  and  involuntary  cozenages, 
ignorances  and  inadvertences,  careless  hours,  and 
unwatchful  seasons.  But  no  good  man  ever  commits 
one  act  of  adultery  ;  no  godly  man  will  at  any 
time  be  drunk  ;  or  if  he  be,  he  ceases  to  be  a  godly 
man,  and  is  run  into  the  confines  of  death,  and 
is  sick  at  heart,  and  may  die  of  the  sickness — die 
eternally.  — Jeremy  Taylor,  161 2-1667. 

(2857.)  He  that  hath  a  tight  shoe  and  a  tender 
foot  is  sensible  of  the  least  stone  or  rubbish  got 
in  ;  nor  can  he  be  at  ease  till  he  hath  taken  it  out. 
The  holy  soul  is  troubled  with  the  smallest  error 
he  commits  ;  and  is  so  far  from  favouring  any  sin, 
that  he  will  not  pardon  himself  for  stumbling 
against  his  will.  — Adams,  1653. 

(2858.)  Let  us  then  resemble  the  high  priest, 
who,  when  he  was  anointed  with  that  sacred 
unction,  let  the  oil  run  down  to  the  very  hems  and 
fringes  of  his  garment,  that  even  the  smallest  parts 
might  shed  the  fragrant  perfume  of  the  sanctuary. 

—D'Alet. 

(2859.)  The  Christian  character  should  savour  ol 
holiness.  The  promise  is,  "I  will  be  as  the  dew» 
unto  Israel  ; "  and  how  sweet  is  the  fragrance  of 
the  flower  after  the  falling  of  the  dew  I  so  must  the 
believer  be  under  the  soft  distilmetts  of  the  drop- 
pings of  heaven  on  his  heart. 

(2860.)  Holiness  was  meant,  our  New  Testament 
tells  us,  for  every  day  use.  It  is  home-made  and 
home- worn.  Its  «xercise  hardens  the  bone,  and 
strengthens  the  muscle,  in  the  body  of  character. 
Holiness  is  religion  shining  It  is  the  candle 
lighted,  and  not  hid  under  a  bushel,  but  lighting 
the  house.  It  is  religious  principle  put  into  motion. 
It  is  the  love  of  God  sent  forth  into  circulation,  on 
the  feet,  and  with  the  hands,  of  love  to  man.  It  is 
faith  gone  to  work.  It  is  charity  coined  into  actions, 


HOLINESS. 


(     490    ) 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


«nd  devotion  breathing  benedictions  on  human 
Buflering,  while  it  goes  up  in  intercessions  to  the 
Father  of  all  piety.  — F,  D.  Ihnitnigton. 

13.  Is  not  at  once  confirmed  In  the  soul. 
(2861.)  As  the  needle  of  a  compass,  when  it  is 

directed  to  its  beloved  star,  at  the  first  addresses 
waves  on  either  side,  and  seems  indiffeient  of  its 
courtship  of  tlie  rising  or  declining  sun  ;  and  when 
it  seems  first  determined  to  the  north,  stands  awhile 
trembling,  as  if  it  suffered  inconvenience  in  the  first 
fruition  of  its  desires,  and  stands  not  still  in  full 
enjoyment  till  after  first  a  great  variety  of  motion, 
and  then  an  undisturbed  posture  ;  so  is  the  piety  and 
so  is  the  conversion  of  a  man  wrought  by  degrees 
and  several  steps  of  imperfection  :  and  at  first  our 
choices  are  wavering  ;  convinced  by  the  grace  of 
God,  and  yet  not  persuaded ;  and  then  persuaded,  but 
not  resolved  ;  and  then  resolved,  but  deferring  to 
begin;  and  then  beginning,  but,  as  all  beginnings  are, 
in  weakness  and  uncertainty  ;  and  we  fly  out  often 
into  huge  indiscretions,  and  look  back  10  Sodom, 
and  long  to  return  to  Egypt  :  and  when  the  storm 
is  qiii'e  over,  we  find  little  bubblings  and  uneven- 
nesses  on  the  face  of  the  waters.  We  often  weaken 
our  own  pur]")oses  by  the  returns  of  sin  ;  and  we  do 
not  call  ourselves  conquerors  till,  by  a  long  posses- 
sion of  virtues,  it  is  a  strange  and  unusual,  and, 
iheiefore,  an  uneasy  and  unpleasant  thing  to  act 
a  crime.  — Jeremy  Taydor,  1612-1667. 

14.  Its  prog:ress  Is  not  always  perceptible. 

(2862.)  The  progress  of  holiness  is  sometimes 
like  the  lengthening  of  daylight,  after  the  days  are 
past  the  shortest.  The  difterence  is  for  some  time 
imperceptible,  but  still  is  real ;  and  in  due  season 
becomes  undeniably  visible.  — Salter, 

16.  Fow  it  Is  to  be  maintained, 

(2863.)  The  bloom  of  the  hawthorn  or  White- 
May  looks  like  snow  in  Richmond  Park,  but  nearer 
London,  or  by  the  road  side,  its  virgin  whiteness  is 
s^':l'y  stained.  Too  often  contact  with  the  world 
Has  just  such  an  effect  upon  our  piety  ;  we  must 
away  to  the  far-oflT  garden  of  paradise  to  see  holi- 
ness in  its  unsullied  purity,  and  meanwhile  we  must 
be  much  alone  with  God  if  we  would  maintain  a 
gracious  life  below.  — Spurgeon. 

16.  Is  not  to  be  trusted  In. 

(2864.)  When  thou  trustest  in  Christ  tvithin  thee, 
instead  of  Christ  without  thee,  thou  settest  Christ 
against  Christ.  The  bride  does  well  to  esteem  her 
husband's  picture,  but  it  were  ridiculous  if  she 
should  love  it  better  than  himself,  much  more  if  she 
go  to  it  rather  than  to  him  to  supply  her  wants. 
Yet  thou  acteiii  thus  when  thou  art  more  fond  of 
Christ's  image  in  ihy  soul  than  of  Him  who  painted 
it  there.  Will  thy  husband,  the  Lord  Jesus,  thank 
thee  for  honouring  His  creature  to  the  dishonour  of 
His  person?  — Cumall,  1617-1679. 

17.  Does  not  entitle  us  to  heaven. 

(2865.)  From  justification  arises  our  title  to 
heaven  ,  fromsanctification  arises  ourmeetness  for  it. 
A  king's  son  is  heir-apparent  to  his  father's  crown. 
We  will  suppose  the  young  prince  to  be  educated 
with  all  the  advantages,  and  to  be  possessor  of  all 
the  attainments,  that  are  necessary  to  constitute 
a  complete  monarch.  His  accomplishments,  how- 
ever great,  dc  not  entitle  him  to  the  kingdom  ;  Ihev 


only  qualify  him  for  it  ;  so  the  holiness  and  obedi- 
ence of  the  saints  are  no  part  of  that  right  on  which 
their  claim  to  glory  is  founded,  or  for  which  it  is 
given  ;  but  a  part  of  that  spiritual  education, 
whereby  they  are  fitted  and  made  meet  to  inherit 
"the  kingdom  prepared  for  them  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world."  — Salter. 

(2866.)  As  a  dead  man  cannot  inherit  an  estate, 
no  more  can  a  dead  soul  (and  every  soul  is  spiritually 
dead  until  quickened,  and  born  again  of  the  Holy 
Ghost)  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.  Yet,  sanctifi- 
cation  and  holiness  of  life  do  not  constitute  any 
part  of  our  title  to  the  heavenly  inheritance,  any 
more  than  mere  animal  life  entitles  a  man  of  fortune 
to  the  estate  he  enjoys  :  he  could  not,  indeed,  enjoy 
his  estate  if  he  did  not  live  ;  but  his  claim  to  his 
estate  arises  from  some  other  quarter.  Tn  like 
manner,  it  is  not  our  holiness  that  entitles  us  to 
heaven  ;  though  no  man  can  enter  into  heaven 
without  holiness.  — Salter, 


HOLY  SPIRIT.  THE 

I.     THE    THIRD  PERSON  IN   THE  BLESSED 

TRINITY. 

(2867.)  If  a  sober,  wise,  and  honest  man  should 
come  and  tell  you  that  in  such  a  country,  where  he 
has  been,  there  is  one  who  is  the  governor  of  it, 
that  doth  well  discharge  his  office, — that  he  hears 
causes,  discerns  right,  distributes  justice,  relieves 
the  poor,  comforts  them  that  are  in  distress;  sup- 
posing you  gave  him  that  credit  which  honesty, 
wisdom,  and  sobriety  deserve,  would  you  not  believe 
that  he  intended  a  righteous,  wise,  diligent,  intelli- 
gent person,  discharging  the  office  of  a  governor? 
What  else  could  any  man  living  imagine?  But  now 
suppose  that  another  unknown  person,  or,  so  far  as 
he  is  known,  justly  suspected  of  deceit  and  forgery, 
should  come  to  you  and  tell  you  that  all  which  the 
other  informed  you  and  acquainted  you  withal  was 
indeed  true,  but  that  the  words  which  he  spake 
have  quite  another  intention  ;  for  it  was  not  a  man 
or  any  person  that  he  intended,  but  it  was  the  sun 
or  the  wind  that  he  meant  by  all  which  he  spake  of 
him  :  for  whereas  the  sun  by  his  benign  influence 
makes  a  country  fruitful  and  temperate,  suited  to 
the  relief  and  comfort  of  all  that  dwell  therein,  and 
disposes  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants  to  mutual 
kindness  and  benignity,  he  described  these  things 
figuratively  to  you,  under  the  notion  of  a  righteous 
governor  and  his  actions,  although  he  never  gave 
you  the  least  intimation  of  any  such  intention  : — 
must  you  not  now  believe  that  either  the  first 
person,  whom  you  know  to  be  a  wise,  sober,  and 
honest  man,  was  a  notorious  trifler,  and  designed 
your  ruin,  if  you  were  to  order  any  of  your  occa- 
sions according  to  his  reports,  or  that  your  latter 
informer,  whom  you  have  just  reason  to  suspect  of 
falsehood  and  deceit  in  other  things,  has  endeavoured 
to  abuse  both  him  and  you,  to  render  his  veracity 
suspected,  and  to  spoil  all  your  designs  grounded 
thereon  ?  One  of  these  you  must  certainly  conclude 
upon. 

And  it  is  no  otherwise  in  this  case.  The  Scrip- 
ture informs  us  that  the  Holy  Spirit  rules  in  and 
over  the  Church  of  God,  appointing  overseers  of  it 
under  Him  ;  that  He  discerns  and  judges  all  things  ; 
that  He  comfoits  them  that  are  faint,  strengthen? 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


(    491     ) 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


them  that  are  weak,  is  grieved  with  them  and 
provoked  by  them  who  sin  ;  and  that  in  all  these, 
and  in  other  things  of  like  nature  innumerable,  He 
works,  orders,  and  disposes  all  "  according  to  the 
counsel  of  His  own  will."  Hereupon  it  directs  us 
80  to  order  our  conversation  towards  God  that  we 
do  not  grieve  Him  nor  displease  Him,  telling  us 
thereon  what  great  things  He  will  do  for  us ;  on 
which  we  lay  the  stress  of  our  obedience  and  salva- 
tion. Can  any  man  possibly,  tliat  gives  credit  to 
the  testiinony  thus  proposed  in  the  Scripture,  con- 
ceive any  otherwise  of  this  Spirit  but  as  of  a  holy, 
wise,  intelligent  Person?  Now,  whilst  we  are  under 
the  power  of  these  apprehensions,  there  come  to  us 
some  men,  Socinians  or  Quakers,  whom  we  have 
just  cause  on  many  other  accounts  to  suspect,  at 
least  of  deceit  and  falsehood  ;  and  they  confidently 
tell  us  that  what  the  Scripture  speaks  concerning 
llie  Holy  Spirit  is  indeed  true,  but  that  in  and  by 
all  the  expressions  which  it  uses  concerning  Him, 
it  intends  no  such  person  as  it  seems  to  do,  but 
"an  accident,  a  quality,  an  effect,  or  influence  of 
the  power  of  God,"  which  figuratively  does  all 
things  mentioned, — namely,  that  has  a  will  figura- 
tively, and  understanding  figuratively,  discerns  and 
judges  figuratively,  is  sinned  against  figuratively, 
and  so  of  all  that  is  said  of  Him.  Can  any  man 
that  is  not  forsaken  of  all  natural  reason,  as  well  as 
spiritual  light,  choose  now  but  determine  that  either 
the  Scripture  is  designed  to  draw  him  into  errors  and 
mistakes  about  the  principal  concernment  of  his 
soul,  and  so  to  ruin  him  eternally  ;  or  that  these 
]iersons,  who  would  impose  such  a  sense  upon  it,  are 
indeed  corrupt  seducers  that  seek  to  overthrow  his 
(aith  and  comforts  ?  Such  will  they  at  last  appear 
to  be.  — Owen,  1616-1683. 

II.    HIS  ASSISTANCB. 

1.  Its  nature. 

(2868.)  When  the  Spirit  doth  in  an  ordinary  way 
help  us  in  remembering  or  meditating  on  any  text 
or  holy  doctrine.  He  doth  it  according  to  our 
capacity  and  disposition,  and  therefore  there  is 
much  of  our  weakness  and  error  usually  mixed  with 
the  Spirit's  he!])  in  the  product  ;  as  when  )'ou  hold 
the  hand  of  a  child  in  writing,  you  write  not  so  well 
by  his  hand,  as  by  your  own  alone,  but  your  skill 
and  his  weakness  and  unskilfulness  do  both  appear 
in  the  letters  which  are  made  ;  so  is  it  in  tlie  ordi- 
nary assistance  of  the  Spirit  in  our  studies,  medita- 
tions, prayers,  &c.,  otherwise  all  that  we  do  would 
be  perfect,  in  which  we  have  the  Spirit's  help ; 
which  Scripture  and  all  Christians'  experience  do 
contradict.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2869.)  It  is  not  the  work  of  the  Spirit  to  tell  you 
the  meaning  of  Scripture,  and  give  you  the  know- 
ledge of  divinity,  without  your  own  study  and 
labour,  but  to  bless  that  study,  and  give  you  know- 
ledge thereby.  Did  not  Christ  open  the  eyes  of 
the  man  born  blind  as  suddenly,  as  wonderfully, 
and  by  as  little  means  as  you  can  expect  to  be 
illuminated  by  the  Spirit  ?  And  yet  tjjat  man 
could  not  see  any  distant  object  out  of  his  reach, 
till  he  took  the  pains  to  travel  to  it,  or  it  was 
brought  to  him,  for  all  his  eyes  were  opened. 
When  he  was  newly  healed,  he  could  not  have  told 
what  was  done  in  Samaria,  nor  seen  what  was  in 
Jericho,  nor  what  a  town  Tyre  or  Sidon  was, 
unless  he  would  be  at  the  pains  to  travel  thither. 
A.cd  if  he  would  see  Rome,  he  must  be  at  so  much 


more  pains,  as  the  place  was  more  distant.  Would 
you  have  been  so  silly  as  to  say,  "This  man  can 
presently  see  Samaria,  Tyre,  Rome,  because  Christ 
hath  opened  his  eyes?"  So  is  it  here.  If  Christ 
have  anointed  your  eyes  with  the  eye-salve  of  the 
Spirit,  and  removed  the  inward  impediments  of 
your  sight,  yet  it  is  not  that  you  may  presently 
know  ad  truths  which  you  never  heard  of,  or  read 
of,  or  studied  to  know.  You  must  study,  and  study 
again  ;  and  the  further  off,  and  more  difficult  the 
truths  are,  the  more  must  you  study,  and  then 
expect  to  know  by  the  blessing  of  the  Spirit :  let 
experience  witness.  Did  you  not  hear  all  those 
truths  which  you  know  from  the  mouth  of  some 
teacher,  or  other  person,  or  else  consider  and  study 
of  them  yourselves,  before  you  came  to  know  theii^ 
by  the  Spirit  ?  Go  not,  then,  out  of  God's  way,  if 
you  expect  His  blessing. 

Doth  not  experience  commonly  tell  you,  that 
men  know  more  that  study  and  have  learning  than 
those  that  do  not?  Are  not  the  ministers  and  other 
learned  men  and  godly  people,  that  have  studied 
the  Scriptures  long,  the  most  knowing  people  in 
England  ?  Nothing  but  mad  ignorance  or  impudence 
can  deny  it.  What  man  breathing  knew  as  much 
the  first  hour  he  received  the  Spirit,  as  he  doth  after 
many  years'  study  and  diligent  labour? 

To  reject  study  on  pretence  of  the  sufficiency  of 
the  Spirit,  is  to  reject  the  Scripture  itself;  for  as  a 
man  rejecteth  his  land  that  refuseth  to  till  it,  or 
rejecteth  his  meat  if  he  refuse  to  eat  it,  though  he 
praise  it  never  so  much  ;  so  doth  he  reject  the 
Scripture  that  refuseth  to  study  it,  or  to  study  that 
which  must  first  be  known,  or  is  necessary  thereto. 
Meditation  digesteth  the  word,  which  else  is  cast 
up  again.  — Baxter,  1615-1691 

(2870.)  The  Word  of  God  is  called  the  sword  of 
the  Spirit.  It  is  the  instrument  by  which  the  Spirit 
worketh.  He  does  not  tell  us  anything  that  is  out 
of  the  record  ;  but  all  that  is  within  it  He  sends 
home  with  clearness  and  effect  upon  the  mind.  He 
does  not  make  us  wise  above  that  which  is  written, 
but  He  makes  us  wise  up  to  that  which  is  written. 
When  a  telescope  is  directed  to  some  distant  land- 
scape, it  enables  us  to  see  what  we  could  not  other- 
wise have  seen  ;  but  it  does  not  enable  us  to  see 
anything  which  has  not  a  real  existence  in  the 
prospect  before  us.  It  does  not  present  to  the  eye 
any  delusive  imagery — neither  is  that  a  fanciful  and 
fictitious  scene  which  it  throws  open  to  our  con- 
templation. The  natural  eye  saw  nothing  but  blue 
land  stretching  along  the  distant  horizon.  By  the 
aid  of  the  glass  there  bursts  upon  it  a  charming 
variety  of  fields,  and  woods,  and  spires,  and  villages. 
Yet  who  would  say  that  the  glass  added  one  feature 
to  this  assemblage?  It  discovers  nothing  to  us 
which  is  not  there  ;  nor  out  of  that  portion  of  the 
book  of  nature,  which  we  are  employed  in  cultivat- 
ing, does  it  bring  into  view  a  single  character  which 
is  not  really  and  previously  inscribed  upon  it.  And 
so  of  the  Spirit.  He  does  not  add  a  single  truth  or 
a  single  character  to  the  book  of  revelation.  He 
enables  the  spiritual  man  to  see  what  the  natural 
man  cannot  see  ;  but  the  spectacle  which  He  lays 
open  is  uniform  and  immutable.  It  is  the  Word  of 
God  which  is  ever  the  same  ;  and  he  whotn  the 
Spirit  of  God  has  enabled  to  look  to  the  Bible  with 
a  clear  and  affecting  discernment,  sees  no  phantom 
passing  before  him  ;  but,  amid  all  the  visionary 
extravagance  with    which   he  is  charged,  can,  fo"* 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


(    492    ) 


HOL  Y  SPIRIT.     THE 


every  one  article  of  his  faith,  and  every  one  duty  of 
his  practice,  make  his  triumphant  appeal  to  the 
law  and  to  the  testimony. 

—Chalmers,  1780-1847. 

2.  Otir  need  of  It. 

(I.)    To  deliver  us  from  sin. 

(2871.)  To  know  the  way  to  heaven,  sometimes 
to  cast  a  longing  eye  in  that  direction,  and  by  fit 
and  start  to  make  a  feeble  effort  heavenwards,  can 
end  in  nothing.  Man  must  get  the  Spirit  of  God. 
Thus  only  can  we  be  freed  of  the  shackles  that  bind 
the  soul  to  earth,  the  flesh,  and  sin.  I  have  seen  a 
captive  eagle,  caged  far  from  its  distant  home,  as  he 
sat  mournfullike  on  his  perch,  turn  his  eye  some- 
times heavenwards  ;  there  he  would  sit  in  silence, 
like  one  wrapt  in  thought,  gazing  through  the  bars 
of  his  cage  up  into  the  blue  sky  ;  and,  after  a  while, 
as  if  noble  but  sleeping  instincts  had  suddenly 
awoke,  he  would  start  and  spread  out  his  broad 
sails,  and  leap  upward,  revealing  an  iron  chain  that, 
usually  covered  by  his  plumage,  drew  him  back 
again  to  his  place.  But  though  this  bird  of  heaven 
knew  the  way  to  soar  aloft,  and  sometimes,  under 
the  influence  of  old  instincts,  decayed  but  not 
altogether  dead,  felt  the  thirst  of  freedom,  freedom 
was  not  for  him,  till  a  power  greater  than  his  own 
proclaimed  liberty  to  the  captive,  and  shattered  the 
shackles  that  bound  him  to  his  perch.  Nor  is  there 
freedom  for  us  till  the  Holy  Spirit  sets  us  free,  and, 
by  the  lightning  force  of  truth,  breaks  the  chains 
that  bind  us  to  sin.  — Guthrie. 

(2.)   To  guide  and  uphold  us  from  day  to  day. 

(2872.)  The  Holy  Spirit  of  God  is  our  guide. 
Who  will  displease  his  guide,  a  sweet  comfortable 
guide,  that  leads  us  through  the  wilderness  of  this 
world  ?  As  the  cloud  before  the  Israelites  by  day, 
and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  so  He  conducts  us 
to  the  heavenly  Canaan.  If  we  grieve  our  guide, 
we  cause  Him  to  leave  us  to  ourselves.  The  Is- 
raelites would  not  go  a  step  further  than  God  by  His 
angel  went  before  them.  It  is  in  vain  for  us  to 
make  toward  heaven  without  our  blesseii  Guide. 
—Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(2873.)  We  need  a  monitor  to  stir  up  in  us 
diligence,  watchfulness,  and  earnest  endeavours  : 
"  And  thine  ears  shall  hear  a  word  behind  thee,  say- 
ing, This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it,  when  ye  turn  to 
the  right  hand,  and  when  ye  turn  to  the  left."  The 
cares  and  business  of  the  world  do  often  drive  the 
sense  of  our  duty  out  of  our  minds.  One  great  end 
of  God's  Spirit  is  to  put  us  in  remembrance,  to 
revive  truths  upon  us  in  their  season.  A  ship 
though  never  so  well  rigged,  needs  a  pilot  :  we 
need  a  good  guide  to  put  us  in  mind  of  our  duty. 
— Alanton,  1620-1667. 

(2874.)  By  "regeneration,"  we  understand  the 
commencement  of  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul  of 
man  ;  the  beginning  of  that  which  had  not  an 
existence  before  :  by  "renewal"  the  invigoration  of 
that  which  has  been  begun  ;  the  sustentation  of  a 
life  already  possessed.  The  impartation  of  life 
is  one  thing  ;  its  support  another.  Its  "renewal" 
does  not  mean  its  reanimation  after  dying  out,  as 
the  light  of  an  extinguished  lamp  may  be  renewed 
— but  that  the  life  itself  is  supported  and  preserved  ; 
ttiat  there  is  the  revival  of  exhausted  energy,  the 
supply  of  the  waste  and  decay  occasioned  liy  the 
weai    and    tear    of  whatever   expends   or   tries  its 


powers.  The  subject  may  be  illustrated  by  thfl 
analogy  of  natural  life.  When  a  child  is  born,  we 
do  not  say  that  its  life  is  renewed,  but  that  its  life 
has  begun  ;  its  visil)le  existence  starts  from  its  com- 
mencement. Having  thus  started,  it  then  needs  to 
be  sustained  and  fed ;  the  living  being  requires 
nourishment  and  invigoration  in  the  form  of  food 
and  rest.  Even  the  strong  man,  worn  and  reduced 
by  care  and  toil,  by  the  battle  and  the  burden  of 
each  day,  is  conscious  of  weakened  and  wasted 
energy,  and  needs  the  constant  and  regular  renewal 
of  his  strength.  All  this  is  obviously  analogous  to 
the  inward  and  spiritual  life  of  man,  it  has  its 
beginning.  In  "the  washing  of  regeneration"  the 
new  life  commences.  Having  begun,  it  needs  to 
be  supported  and  preserved.  And  not  only  so  ;  but 
exposed  to  injury,  liable  to  be  weakened  and  de- 
pressed by  the  perils  that  menace  and  the  labours 
that  belong  to  it,  it  needs  to  be  refreshed  and 
recruited,  strengthened  and  revived.  That  is  effected 
by  "  the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost," — the  flowing 
into  the  soul,  through  "the  supply  of  the  Spirit  of 
Jesus  Christ,"  of  the  varied  gifts  of  that  Divine  agent 
by  whom  the  life  itself  was  imparted  at  first. 

— Binney, 

(2875.)  Consciously,  distinctly,  resolutely,  habitu- 
ally, we  need  to  give  ourselves,  our  business,  our 
interests,  our  families,  our  affections,  into  the 
Spirit's  hands,  to  lead  and  fashion  us  as  He  will. 
When  we  work  with  the  current  of  that  Divine 
will,  all  is  vital,  efficient,  fruitful  ;  for  leaning  back 
against  the  Omnipotent  arm,  this  human  frame 
attracts  strength  into  all  its  sinews.  But  when  we 
strive  against  that  current,  some  secret  flaw  vitiates 
even  what  we  call  our  successes ;  and  how  do  we 
know  but  our  proudest  successes  then  are  only 
failures  in  disguise  ?  You  have  seen  the  rower's 
strength  put  vigorously  against  the  tide ;  and,  judg- 
ing from  his  own  narrow  point  on  the  water,  the 
dash  of  his  oars  seemed  to  be  dividing  the  waves, 
and  sending  him  up  the  channel.  But  when  the 
mist  lifts,  let  him  send  his  glance  away  to  some 
stable  landmark  on  the  shore,  and  he  finds  the 
triumphant  stream  has  all  the  time  been  drifting 
him  backward  and  downward.  So  with  the  moral 
issue  of  our  plans.  By  our  conceited  standards  we 
seem  to  compass  our  ends  ;  but  transfer  the  scale  of 
measurement  to  eternity,  and  behold  1  we  have  been 
losers  of  the  soul  while  we  gained  the  world,  because 
the  Spirit  was  not  invited  to  befriend  our  toil  1 
After  the  bolts  are  all  driven,  and  the  shrouds  are 
all  set,  we  must  still  wait  for  the  breath  of  heaven 
to  fill  the  sail.  Nothing,  literally  nothing,  in  the 
final  reckoning,  without  our  Lord  1 

— F.  D.  Huntington, 

(3.)    To  support  us  in  affliction. 

(2876.)  If  you  thoroughly  exhaust  a  vessel  of  the 
air  it  contains,  the  pressure  of  the  air  outside  wifl 
break  that  vessel  into  perliaps  millions  of  pieces, 
because  there  is  not  a  sufficiency  of  air  within  to 
resist  and  counteract  the  weight  of  the  atmosphere 
from  without.  A  person  who  is  exercised  by  severe 
affliction,  and  who  does  not  experience  the  Divine 
comtbrts  and  supports  in  his  soul,  resembles  the 
exhausted  receiver  above  described  ;  and  it  is  no 
wonder  if  he  yields,  and  is  broken  to  shivers,  undei 
the  weight  of  God's  providential  hand.  But  afflic- 
tion to  one  who  is  sustained  by  the  inward  presence 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  resembles  the  aerial  pressure 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


(    493     ) 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THK 


on  the  outer  surface  of  an  unexhausted  vessel. 
There  is  that  within  which  supports  it,  and  pre- 
serves it  from  being  destroyed  by  the  incumbent 
pressure  from  without.        — Toplady,  1740-1778. 

(4.)  In  the  study  of  God's  Word. 

(2877.)  God  is  able  to  interpret  His  own  Word 
unto  thee.  Indeed  none  can  enter  into  the  know- 
ledge tliereof  but  he  must  be  beholden  unto  His 
Spirit  to  unloclt  the  door.  If  thou  hadst  a  riper 
head  and  higher  parts  than  thou  canst  now  pretend 
to,  thou  wouldst,  without  His  help,  be  but  like  the 
blind  Sodomites  about  Lot's  house,  groping  but 
not  able  to  find  the  way  into  the  true  saving  know- 
ledge thereof.  He  that  hath  not  the  right  key  is  as 
far  from  entering  the  house  as  he  that  hath  none, 
yea,  in  some  sense  further  off;  for  he  that  hatli 
none  will  call  to  him  that  is  within,  while  the  other, 
trusting  to  his  false  key,  stands  pottering  without  to 
little  purpose.  The  Pharisees  were  no  little  con- 
versant in  the  Scriptures,  yet  even  these  missed  that 
truth  which  lay  before  them  almost  in  every  leaf  of 
Moses  and  the  Prophets,  whom  they  were,  in  their 
everyday  study,  tumbling  over  :  I  mean  that  grand 
truth  concerning  Christ,  of  whom  both  Moses  and 
the  Prophets  speak. 

— Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(2878.)  None  so  blind  and  ignorant  whose  eyes 
His  Spirit  cannot  open.  He  who  by  Ilis  incuba- 
tion upon  the  waters  at  the  Creation  hatched  that  rude 
mass  into  the  beautiful  form  we  now  see,  and  out  of 
that  dark  chaos  made  the  glorious  heavens,  and 
garnished  them  witii  so  many  orient  stars,  can  move 
upon  thy  dark  soul,  and  enlighten  it,  though  now  it 
be  as  void  of  knowledge  as  the  evening  of  the 
world's  first  day  was  of  light.  The  schoolmaster 
sometimes  sends  home  the  child  and  bids  his  father 
put  him  to  another  trade,  because  not  able,  with  all 
his  art,  to  make  a  scholar  of  him  ;  but  if  the  Spirit 
of  God  be  the  Master,  thou  shalt  learn,  though  a 
very  dunce,  Gumall,  161 7-1679, 

(2879.)  Scripture  can  be  savingly  understood 
only  in  and  by  the  inward  illumination  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  The  Gospel  is  a  picture  of  God's  free  grace 
to  sinners.  Were  we  in  a  room  hung  with  the 
finest  paintings  and  adorned  with  the  most  exqui- 
site statues,  we  could  not  see  one  of  them,  if  all 
light  were  excluded.  Now  the  blessed  Spirit's 
irradiation  is  the  same  to  the  mind  that  outward 
light  is  to  the  bodily  eyes. 

—  Toplady,  1740-1778, 

(2880,)  The  Word  of  God  will  not  avail  to  sal- 
vation without  the  Spirit  of  God.  A  compass  is  of 
no  use  to  the  mariner  unless  he  has  light  to  see 
it  by.  — Toplady,  1 740-1 778. 

(28S1.)  You  may  try  to  teach  a  child  the  meaning 
of  the  term  "sweetness,"  but  words  will  ncjt 
avail :  give  him  some  honey  and  he  will  never 
forget.  You  might  seek  to  tell  him  of  the  glorious 
mountains,  and  tiie  Alps,  that  pierce  the  clouds  and 
send  their  snowy  peaks,  like  white-robed  ambas- 
sadors, up  to  the  courts  of  heaven  :  take  him  there  ; 
let  him  see  them,  and  he  will  never  forget  them. 
You  might  seek  to  paint  to  him  the  grandeur  of  the 
America.!  continent,  with  its  hills  and  lakes  and 
rivers,  such  as  the  world  saw  rot  before  :  let  him 
go  and  view  it,  and  he  will  know  more  of  the  land 
than  he  could  know  by  all  your  teaching,  when  he 


sits  at  home.  So  the  Holy  Spirit  does  not  only 
teU  us  of  Christ's  love  ;  He  sheds  it  ahroad  in  the 
heart.  He  does  not  merely  tell  us  of  the  sweetness 
of  pardon  ;  but  He  gives  us  a  sense  of  no  con- 
demnation, and  then  we  know  all  about  it,  better 
than  we  would  have  done  by  any  teaching  of  words 
and  thoughts.  — Spurgeon. 

(2882.)  In  order  for  me  to  find  my  way  to  heaven 
two  things  become  necessary.  I  must  have  an  in- 
spired chart  external  to  me,  which  is  the  Bible.  I 
must  have,  secondly,  an  inspired  heart,  which  is 
internal  to  me,  in  order  to  enable  me  to  read 
profitably  that  book.  Now  of  all  charts,  or,  to 
use  the  more  common  phrase,  of  all  books,  the 
Bible  is  the  plainest.  Comments,  commentaries, 
sermons,  explanations,  are  most  precious  ;  but  still 
the  Bible  itself,  in  all  things  that  are  vital,  is  so 
plain,  that  the  humblest  peasant  can  understand  it, 
while  in  all  things  that  are  mysterious,  it  is  so 
difficult  that  we  shall  spend  heaven,  and  still  not 
exhaust  them.  The  Holy  Spirit  is  needful,  not  to 
enable  me  to  understand  the  Bible ;  for  I  can  under- 
stand it  by  study  just  as  well  as  Homer,  or  Shake- 
speare, or  Milton,  or  any  other  writer  ;  but  so  to 
understand  it  that,  instead  of  being  a  mere  outer 
truth  it  may  exercise  an  influence  within,  oven, 
coming  the  hostility  of  my  heart,  sanctifying  its 
governing  principles,  and  giving  new  life  and  energy 
within.  Hence  it  is  the  Spirit  that  fills  every  symbol 
in  it  with  celestial  glory,  that  inspires  every  truth 
in  the  Bible  with  life,  gives  to  its  every  promise 
sweet  music,  and  communicates  to  the  heart  that 
studies  its  receptive  power,  and  makes  this  book 
the  guide  unto  life  everlasting.  The  Romanist 
looks  to  the  Pope  to  interpret  the  Bible  ;  the  Trac- 
tarian  looks  to  the  Church  to  intt  rpret  it ;  the 
Socinian  looks  to  reason  to  interpret  it ;  the  Chris- 
tian looks  to  the  Holy  Ghost  to  explain  and  inter- 
pret the  Bible  to  him. 

To  show  you  the  necessity  of  the  Spirit,  let  us 
take  the  very  simple  illustration  of  a  sundial.  If 
you  go  to  a  sundial  at  midnight  and  study  it  with 
a  brilliant  lamp,  you  will  be  able  to  trace  every 
figure,  and  to  understand  it  as  thoroughly  as  any 
human  being  ever  understood  it.  But  while  tlie 
lamp  or  moonliL'.ht  apjilied  to  the  sundial  will 
enable  you  to  understand  its  structure  most  ac- 
curately, neither  will  enable  you  to  reach  its  prac- 
tical use.  If  you  want  to  do  that,  you  must  go  ou* 
when  the  sun  has  risen,  or  shines  from  its  meridian, 
and  then  you  will  not  only  be  able  to  see  the 
structure  of  the  dial,  but  to  discover  from  it  the 
hour  of  the  day.  So  in  reading  this  blessed  book, 
you  can  by  the  lamplight  of  human  reason,  or  by 
the  moonlight  of  tradition,  or  by  a  light  which  is  a 
mixture  of  the  darkness  of  both — the  pope — under- 
stand this  book  in  its  outward  facts  ;  but  in  its 
inner,  its  practical,  and  saving  meaning,  you  must 
ask  the  Author  of  the  book  to  explain  it  to  you. 
Suppose  that  you  have  heard  tliat  a  person  has 
written  a  book,  and  on  reading  that  book  you  find 
a  passage  in  it  which  you  can  make  nothing  of  ;  and 
you  appeal  to  this  divine  or  to  that  divine  to  ask 
them  to  explain  its  meaning,  but  in  vain.  Suppose 
you  heard  that  the  author  of  the  book  would 
be  in  the  vestry  at  a  certain  hour  ready  to  explain 
the  passage,  you  would  say.  What  is  the  use  of 
going  to  others,  when  the  author  of  the  book  is 
accessible  and  ready  to  explain  his  meaning  ?  He 
will  be  the  best  able  to  make  it  plain. 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


k    494    ) 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


The  author  of  this  book,  the  Bible,  waits, 
wherever  there  is  a  heart  that  can  pray,  or  lips  that 
can  move,  to  explain  the  meaning  or  the  mystery 
of  the  passage  that  the  reader  himself  cannot 
understand.  — Cuinining. 

(5.)  In  praver, 

(2SS3.)  "None  can  say  Jesus  is  the  Lord,  but  by 
the  Holy  Ghost."  One  may  say  the  words  without 
any  special  work  of  the  Si)irit  in  him,  and  so  may  a 
jiarrot  ;  but  to  say  Christ  is  Lord  believingly,  with 
thoughts  and  alfections  comporting  with  the  great- 
ness and  sweetness  tiiereof,  requires  the  Sjiiril  of 
God  to  be  in  his  heart  and  tongue.  Now  it  is  not 
the  hare  naming  Christ  in  prayer,  and  saying,  For 
the  Lord's  sake,  that  procures  our  welcome  with 
(iod,  but  saying  it  in  faith  ;  and  none  can  do  this 
without  the  Spirit.  Christ  is  the  door  that  opens 
into  God's  presence  and  lets  the  soul  into  His  very 
bosom,  laith  is  th.e  key  that  unlocks  the  door  ;  but 
the  Spirit  is  He  that  makes  this  key,  and  helps  the 
Christian  to  turn  it  in  prayer,  so  as  to  get  any  access 
to  God.  \'ou  know  in  the  law  it  was  a  sin  not 
only  to  offer  "strange  incense,"  but  also  to  bring 
"strange  tire."  liy  the  incense,  which  was  a  com- 
position of  sweet  spices,  apjKjinted  by  God  to  be 
burnt  as  a  sweel  peifume  in  His  nostrils,  was  signi- 
fied the  merit  and  satisfaction  of  Christ,  who  being 
bruised  by  His  Father's  wrath,  did  offer  Himself  a 
sacrifice  to  God  for  a  sweet-smelling  savour.  By 
the  tire  that  was  put  to  the  incense  (which  also  was 
appointed  to  be  taken  from  the  altar,  and  not  any 
common  hearth)  was  signified  tlie  Sjiirit  of  God,  by 
which  we  are  to  ofier  up  all  our  prayers  and  praises, 
even  as  Christ  offered  Himself  up  by  the  Eternal 
Spirit.  To  plead  Clirist's  merits  in  piayer,  and  not 
by  the  Spirit,  is  to  bring  right  incense  but  strange 
fire,  and  so  our  prayers  are  but  smoke,  offensive  to 
His  pure  eyes,  not  incense,  a  sweet  savour  to  \\\% 
nostrils.  — Gurnail,  1617-1679. 

(28S4.)  As  the  sails  of  a  ship  carry  it  into  the 
harbour,  so  prayer  carries  us  to  the  throne  and 
bosom  of  God.  But  as  the  sails  cannot  of  them- 
selves speed  tlie  progress  of  the  vessel,  unless  filled 
with  a  lavotirable  breeze,  so  the  Holy  Spirit  must 
breathe  upon  our  hearts,  or  our  prayers  will  be 
motionless  and  lifeless. 

—  Toplady,  1740- 17  78. 

(6.)   In  preaching. 

(2885.)  It  is  reported  of  a  great  person,  that 
being  desirous  to  see  the  sword  wherewith  Scan- 
derbeg  had  done  so  great  exploits,  when  he  saw  it, 
re[)litd,  he  saw  no  such  great  matter  in  that  sword 
more  than  any  other  sword.  "  It  is  truth,"  quoth 
one,  standing  by  ;  "you  see  the  sword,  but  not  the 
arm  that  wielded  it."  So,  when  we  look  upon  tlte 
Scriptures,  the  bare  word,  whether  printed  in  our 
Bibles  or  audible  in  the  pulpit,  we  shall  fmd  no 
such  business  in  it  more  than  in  other  writings  ;  but 
when  we  consider  the  arm  of  God's  power  that  joins 
with  it,  when  we  look  upon  the  operation  of  His 
Holy  Spirit  working  therein,  then  we  shall  change 
our  thoughts  and  say,  '''  Aec  vox  koniinem  sonat,  U 
Dntscerte!"  or  as  Jacob  did  of  Bethel,  "Surely, 
of  a  certain,  God  is  in  this  Word  !  " 

— Spencer,  1658. 

(28S6.)  The  most  correct  and  lively  description 
Ol  the  sun  cannot  convey  either  the  light,  the 
warmth,  the  cheer'^u'ness,  or  the  fruitfulness,  which 


the  actual  shining  of  that  luminary  conveys  ;  neither 
can  the  most  laboured  and  accurate  dissertations  on 
grace  and  spiritual  things  impart  a  true  idea  of 
them,  without  an  experience  of  the  Holy  Spirit's 
work  on  the  heart.  Toplady,  1 740-1 778. 

(2887.)  The  bellows  one  day  heaved  a  long- 
drawn  sigh. 

"  What's  the  matter,  friend  Bellows,  that  you 
seem  so  sad  ?  "  said   the  hearth. 

"  I  have  been  toiling  to  no  purpose,"  it  answered 
in  a  dejtcted  tone. 

"  Haven't  succeeded  to  kindle  the  fire,  is  it?" 
asked  the  hearth. 

"That's  the  cause,"  replied  the  bellows  ;  "after 
all  my  blowing  there  is  no  flame  !  Occasionally  it  has 
flickered  for  a  moment,  but  as  suddenly  relapsed 
into  its  former  condition.  In  fact,  the  more  1  blow 
the  darker  it  appears ; — and  oh  !  it  is  so  painfully 
disheartening  ! " 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  hearth  considerately,  "it 
requires  something  besides  in  order  to  quicken  it  ;— 
simple  blowing  may  else  unsuccessfully  labour  in  the 
effort  to  obtain  a  spark." 

Gos]iel  ordinances,  which  are  so  instrumentnl  in 
quickening  the  affections  of  the  spiritually  minded, 
are  unsuccessful  if  the  heart  is  not  enkin<lled  by 
Divine  grace.  The  Holy  Spirit  must  apply  the 
love  of  Christ  to  the  soul,  and  then  the  tire  vvill 
begin  to  burn,  and  the  value  of  ordinances  be  felt 
in  raising  the  affections  into  a  flame,  that  we  shall 
say  as  the  disciples  at  Emmaus,  "  Did  not  our  heart 
burn  within  us,  while  He  talked  with  us  by  the  way, 
and  while  He  opened  to  us  the  Scriptures?" 

— Bowden. 

(28S8.)  Such  is  my  belief  in  the  reality,  and 
existence,  and  agency  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  that  I 
think  I  should  have  no  hope  and  no  faith  as  a 
miiiisier  aiiO  as  a  labourer  for  the  enfranchisement 
of  mar.k'.nd,  if  it  were  not  that  I  believed  there  was 
an  all-prevalent,  vitalising  Divine  Spirit.  I  should 
as  soon  attempt  to  raise  flowers  if  there  were  no 
atmosphere,  or  produce  fiuits  if  there  were  neither 
light  nor  heat,  as  I  should  attempt  to  regeneiate 
men  if  I  did  not  believe  there  was  a  Holy  Ghost. 
I  have  faith  in  the  Divine  Spirit  spread  abroad 
over  the  whole  human  family,  which  is  really  the 
cause  of  life  in  the  higher  directions  ;  and  it  is  this 
faith  that  gives  me  hope  and  courage  in  all  labour. 

— Bcecher, 

(7.)  In  the  use  of  ordinances. 

(2S89.)  Ordinances  are  but  as  the  sails  of  a  ship, 
ministers  as  the  seamen  that  manage  those  sails: 
tlie  anchor  may  be  weighed,  the  sails  spread,  Imt 
when  all  this  is  done,  there  is  no  sailing  till  a  gale 
come.  We  preach  and  pray,  and  you  hear;  but 
there  is  no  motion  Christ-ward  until  the  Spirit  of 
Gud  blows  upon  them.  — Flavel,  1627-1691. 

(2S90.)  In  vain  do  the  inhabitants  of  London  go 
to  their  conduits  for  supply  unless  the  man  who 
has  the  master-key  turns  the  water  on.  And  in 
vain  do  we  think  to  quench  our  thirst  at  ordinances, 
unless  God  communicate  the  living  water  of  His 
Spirit.  — Toplady,  1740-1778. 

(2891.)  The  atmosphere  which  encompasses  our 
globe  forty-five  miles  every  way,  is  equally  impor- 
tant to  the  life  of  animals  and  to  the  vegetation  of 
plants.      But  it  would  quickly  cease  to  answer  tiiesw 


HOL  Y  SPIRIT.     THE. 


(    40?     ) 


HOZ.Y  SPIRIT.     THE 


valuable  ends  were  it  not  for  the  additional  in- 
fluence of  ihe  sun.  Whereas,  in  subordination  to 
tlint,  and  as  a  medium  between  that  and  us,  it 
ministeis  every  moment  to  our  best  temporal  in- 
tereits.  Thus,  the  ordinances  of  the  Gospel  are  to 
be  numbered  among  those  streams  which  gladden 
the  Church  of  God  when  He  makes  them  the 
vehicles  of  His  own  power  and  presence  to  the  soul. 
Abstracted  from  the  converting  and  cherishing 
operations  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  be>.t  means  of 
grace  would  infallibly  leave  us  (as  a  sunless  atmos- 
phere would  leave  the  earth)  no  less  cold  and 
unanimated  than  they  found  us.  Salter, 

III.    HIS   INFLUENCE. 

1.  On  whom  it  is  exerted, 

(2S92.)  As  we    press    our   seals,    not   on   air   or 

water,  but  on  materials  capable  of  receiving  the 
characters,  so  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  is  only  given 
to  really  believing  minds  capable  of  receiving  and 
preserving  His  seal.  — yean  Claude. 

2.  How  it  is  exerted. 
(I.)  Freely. 

(2893.)  The  Spirit  of  God  is  a  free  agent,  "Up- 
hold me,"saith  David,  "  with  'i'hy  free  Spirit."  He 
is  not  as  a  prisoner  tied  to  the  oar,  tiiat  must  needs 
work  when  we  will  have  him;  but  as  a  prince, 
when  He  pleaseth.  He  comes  forth  and  shows  Him- 
self to  the  soul,  and  when  He  pleaseth  He  retires 
and  will  not  be  seen.  What  freer  than  the  wind? 
not  the  greatest  king  on  earth  can  command  it  to 
rise  for  his  pleasure  ;  to  this  the  Spirit  of  God  is 
compared  (John  iii. ).  He  is  not  only  free  to  breathe 
where  He  li^ts,  in  this  soul,  and  not  in  that,  but 
when  He  pleaseth  also.       — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2.)  Gently. 

(2S94.)  The  Holy  Spirit  leads  us  as  a  mother 
leads  by  the  hand  her  child  of  two  years  old  ;  as  a 
person  who  can  see  leads  one  who  is  blind. 

—  Vianney. 

(3.)  Silently. 

(2S95.)  The  operation  of  the  Spirit  doth  very 
much  imitate  that  of  Nature  ;  it  is  in  a  very  still 
and  silent  way  that  the  sap  is  drained  in  by  the 
root,  and  ascends  up  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and 
diffuses  itself  to  every  branch,  so  that  we  may  see 
that  it  lives,  but  we  do  not  see  how.  The  case  is 
with  souls  that  are  brought  to  live  in  the  Spirit,  as 
with  very  infirm  and  languishing  persons  who  have 
been  consumed,  and  even  ne.xt  to  death,  in  a 
corrupt  air  ;  being  removed  into  such  as  is  pure  and 
wholesome  they  revive,  but  in  a  very  insensible 
way  ;  so  is  this  life  preserved  by  a  vital,  spiritual 
influence,  which  is  a  pure  air  to  them,  a  gentle, 
indulgent,  benign,  and  cherishing  air  ;  they  live  by 
it,  and  never  a  whit  the  worse,  because  it  is  not  so 
turbulent  as  to  make  a  noise.  — Salter, 

(2896.)  We  do  not  perceive  the  Agent  who 
changes  the  character  at  work,  but  we  conclude  He 
has  been  working  by  the  discovering  effects  pro- 
duced. It  is  for  this  reason,  among  others,  that 
He  is  compared  to  the  wind,  "Thou  hearest  the 
sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cumetli,  nor 
whither  it  goeth  ;  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the 
Spirit."  The  silent  nature  of  the  Spirit's  operations 
has  sometimes  made  His  agency  to  be  denied  alto- 
gether by  those  who  are  ever  demanding  some 
sensible  evidence  o(  tkf  truth  communicated  in  the 


Word.  But  those  who  urge  this  objection  forget 
that  many  of  the  most  powerful  of  the  agents  of 
Nature  are  themselves  unseen,  and  are  on'y  to  be 
discovered  by  their  fruits.  We  do  not,  for  instance, 
see  the  wind,  whether  it  comes  in  the  gentle  breeze, 
10  fan  us,  or  in  the  hurricane,  to  work  such  devasta- 
tion among  the  labours  of  man  and  the  very  works 
of  God.  ']'he  heat  that  nourishes  the  plants  of  the 
earth,  and  the  electricity  so  intimately  connected 
with  all  atmospherical  and  organic  clianges,  move 
secretly  and  in  silence.  These  individuals  forget 
that  God  is  always  Himself  unseen  in  the  midst  of 
His  works.  When  we  walk  forth  in  the  eventide 
to  meditate,  we  are  constrained  to  acknowledge 
that  God  is  everywhere  present  among  these 
works  of  grandeur  ;  and  yet,  by  intense  gaze,  we 
cannot  discover  His  person,  nor,  by  patient  listen- 
ing, hear  the  sound  of  His  footsteps.  No  jarring 
sound  of  mechanism  comes  across  the  void  that 
intervenes  between  us  and  these  heavens — no  voice 
of  boasting  reaches  our  ear,  to  tell  of  the  Worker  ; 
it  is  the  heavens  themselves  that  declare  His  glory. 
And  why  should  the  God  who  created  us  not  be 
able  to  renew  the  heart  when  it  is  debased  by  the 
effects  of  sin,  and  yet  be  as  unseen  in  the  one  case 
as  tlie  other  ?  And  there  is  a  manifest  congruity  in 
the  circumstance  that  the  Agent  con<lucts  His 
work  so  silently  and  imperceptilily.  It  is  only  by 
such  a  mode  of  procedure  that  the  spirit  of  man 
can  reiain  its  separate  action  and  freedom.  There 
is  no  violence  done  to  man's  nature  in  the  super- 
natural work  carried  on  in  the  heart.  The  dealings 
of  God  are,  in  every  respect,  suited  to  the  essential 
and  indispensable  principles  of  man's  nature.  "  I 
drew  them  with  the  cords  of  a  man,  with  the 
bands  of  love."  — APCosh. 

(4.)    Vet  its  effects  are  fereeptible. 

(2897.)  When  the  rays  of  the  sun  fall  on  the  sur- 
face of  a  material  object,  part  of  those  rays  are 
absorbed  ;  part  of  them  are  reflected  back,  in 
straight  lines  ;  and  part  of  them  refracted  this  way 
and  that  in  various  directions.  When  the  Holy 
Ghost  shines  upon  our  souls,  part  of  the  grace  He 
inspires  is  absorbed  to  our  own  particular  comforts  ; 
part  of  it  is  reflected  back  in  acts  of  love  and  joy 
and  prayer  and  praise ;  and  part  of  it  refracted 
every  way  in  acts  of  benevolence,  beneficence, 
and  all  moral  and  social  duty. 

—  To/>lady,  1740-1778. 

(2898.)  "  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and 
thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell 
whence  it  cometh,  and  whither  it  goeth  :  so  is  every 
one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit."  Now  there  are  two 
truths  which  appear  to  be  clearly  taught  in  these 
words,  viz.,  (i)  That  the  new  birth,  like  the  wind, 
is  perceptible  in  its  effect  ;  and,  (2  )  That  it  is  not 
invarialily  attached  to  any  agency  or  instrumentality 
whatever.  The  wind  itself  is  invisible,  but  none 
mistake  the  evidence  of  its  motion.  I  may  see  the 
sails  flapping  against  the  mast  of  the  ship  that 
drifts  powerless  on  the  surface  of  a  calm  and  glassy 
sea  ;  and  I  may  look  again,  and  while  I  hear  the 
breeze  rustling  in  the  trees,  may  see  that  same 
vessel  dashing  through  the  waves  w'ith  its  sails  full, 
and  its  masts  straining  under  the  pressure  of  the 
gale,  and  1  know,  without  inquiry,  that  the  wind 
has  risen  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  I  were  to 
see  the  ship  still  lifeless,  the  sails  still  hanuing  loose, 
and  the  sea  still  glassy,  it  would  be  but  lost  .'&buiu 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


(    496    ) 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


to  assure  me  that  the  gale  had  begun.  And  then, 
again,  if  an}'  one  was  to  inquire  why  the  soft  south 
wind  is  bringing  up  the  gentle  shower,  or  why  the 
cold  north-easter  is  cutting  down  so  many  tender 
plants  by  fell  consumption,  none  can  reply.  Not 
all  the  philosophers  in  the  world  can  devise  a  plan 
b)  which  to  regulate  the  motion  of  the  breeze.  It 
k  one  of  those  things,  which  though  a  matter  of 
everyday  life,  God  has  kept  in  His  soverei<,'n  hand. 
He  has  made  us  acquainted  with  no  rule,  and  if 
there  be  a  secret  machinery,  He  has  hidden  it  from 
our  eye.  The  wind  blows  at  His  bidding,  and  He 
gives  no  account  of  any  of  His  matters. 

Now,  our  Blessed  Lord  teaches  us  in  this  text 
that  it  is  just  so  with  the  new  birth  :  "The  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound 
thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  and 
whither  it  goeth  :  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the 
Spirit."  If,  therefore,  there  is  no  sound — if  all  be 
dead,  all  slumbering,  and  all  regardless  of  the 
Master's  law  and  the  Master's  will — if  there  be  no 
Iruit,  no  result,  no  love,  no  victory, — then  we  are 
not  justified  in  asserting  of  that  soul  that  it  is  born 
again.  But  if  we  are  permitted  to  see  the  breeze 
spring  up — if  tliere  is  a  kindling  of  a  new  life,  a 
springing  forward  with  a  new  power,  a  holy  de- 
votedness  on  new  principles, — then  we  trust,  what- 
ever be  the  instrumentality,  that  it  is  the  work  of 
the  Spirit,  and  that  the  soul  is  born  again  of  God. 

But  again,  according  to  the  principle  of  the  text, 
we  cannot  tie  Him  down  to  stated  means. 

— E.  Hoare. 

8.  Should  not  be  resisted. 

(2899.)  Take  heed,  therefore,  sinners,  how  you  use 
the  Spirit  when  He  comes,  knocking  at  the  door  of 
your  hearts.  Open  at  His  knock,  and  He  will  be 
your  guest ;  you  shall  have  His  sweet  company  : 
repulse  Him,  and  you  have  not  a  promise  He  will 
knock  again.  And  if  once  He  leave  striving  with 
thee,  unhappy  man,  thou  art  lost  for  ever ;  thou 
Hest  like  a  ship  cast  up  by  the  waves  upon  some 
high  rock,  where  the  tide  never  comes  to  fetch  it 
off.  Thou  mayest  come  to  the  Word,  converse 
with  other  ordinances,  but  in  vain.  'Tis  the  Spirit 
of  them  which  is  both  tide  and  wind,  to  set  the  soul 
afloat,  and  carry  it  on,  or  else  it  lies  like  a  ship  on 
diy  ground  which  stirs  not. 

— Gumall,  1617-1679. 

IV.    HIS  INDWELLING  IN  THE  SOUL. 
1,  Its  manner. 
(2900. )  God  is  united  to  us,  and  we  are  united  to 

Him,  not  by  any  form  of  matter,  not  by  physical 
conjunction  or  contiguity,  but  by  the  intersphering 
of  soul-life.  It  is  that  which  knits  us  to  Him.  Our 
thoughts  reach  out  and  thread  themselves  to  His 
thoughts,  and  thus  bring  us  towards  Him. 

Hence,  God's  union  with  men  is  not  a  shadow, 
is  not  a  figure,  is  not  a  dream  :  it  is  the  statement 
of  a  fact  as  literal  as  any  law  in  nature.  The  union 
of  sunlight  with  vegetables  is  not  more  real.  The 
fliAv  of  nourishing  sap  in  fruits  is  not  more  literal 
than  the  interfusion  and  soul  union  of  God's  soul 
with  men's. 

What  a  wonderful  and  glorious  doctrine  is  this, 
tha*  the  soul  of  God  touches  the  soul  of  man  !  At 
the-e  is  no  babe  cradled  and  rocked  that  has  not  its 
mother,  in  the  ordinary'  course  of  life,  to  overhang 
It  by  night  anf^  by  day,  to  kiss  it  as  it  sleeps,  and  to 
QDver  it  with  smiles  and  caresses  when  it  wakes  ;  so 


every  creature  that  is  bom  into  life  has  a  Gc  J  Afhose 
ever-watchful  soul  broods  tenderly  over  it  by  day 
and  by  night,  and  who  interspheres  it  in  His  own 
life.  — Beecher. 

2.  The  safety  of  the  souL 

(2901.)  An  house  uninhabited  soon  comes  to 
ruin  ;  and  a  soul  uninhabited  by  the  Holy  Spirit  of 
God  verges  faster  and  faster  to  destruction^ 

—  Toplady,  174O-1778. 

3.  Is  a  pledge  and  foretaste  of  heaven. 
(2902.)  God  is  especially  present  in  the  hearts  of 

His  people,  by  His  Holy  Spirit ;  and  indeed  the 
hearts  ol  holy  men  are  temples  in  the  truth  of 
things,  and,  in  type  and  shadow,  they  are  heaven 
itself.  For  God  reigns  in  the  hearts  of  His  ser- 
vants ;  there  is  His  kingdom.  The  power  of  grace 
has  subdued  all  His  enemies  ;  there  is  His  power. 
They  serve  Him  night  and  day,  and  give  Him 
thanks  and  praise  ;  that  is  His  glory.  This  is  the 
religion  and  worship  of  God  in  the  temple.  The 
temple  itself  is  the  heart  of  man  ;  Christ  is  the 
high  priest,  who  from  thence  sends  up  the  incense 
of  prayers,  and  joins  them  to  His  own  intercession, 
and  presents  all  together  to  His  Father  ;  and  the 
Holy  Ghost,  by  His  dwelling  there,  has  also  con- 
secrated it  into  a  temple ;  and  God  dwells  in  our 
hearts  by  faith,  and  Christ  by  His  Spirit,  and  the 
Spirit  by  His  purities  ;  so  that  we  are  also  cabinets 
of  the  mysterious  Trinity  ;  and  what  is  this  short  of 
heaven  itself,  but  as  infancy  is  short  of  manhood, 
and  letters  of  words?  The  same  state  of  life  it  is, 
but  not  the  same  age.  it  is  heaven  in  a  looking- 
glass,  dark,  but  yet  true,  representing  the  beauties 
of  the  soul,  and  the  graces  of  God,  and  the  images 
of  His  eternal  glory  by  the  reality  of  a  special  pre- 
sence. — Jereniy  7 'ay lor,  16 12-1667. 

(2903.)  In  the  early  times  when  land  was  sold, 
the  owner  cut  a  turf  from  the  greensward  and  cast 
it  into  the  cap  of  the  purchaser  as  a  token  that  it 
was  his ;  or  he  tore  ofl  the  branch  of  a  tree  and  put 
it  into  the  new  owner's  hand  to  show  that  he  was 
entitled  to  all  the  products  of  the  soil ;  and  when 
the  purchaser  of  a  house  received  seizin  or  posses- 
sion, the  key  of  the  door,  or  a  bundle  of  thatch 
plucked  from  the  roof,  signified  that  the  building, 
was  yielded  up  to  him.  The  God  of  all  grace  has 
given  to  His  people  all  the  perfections  of  heaven  to 
be  their  heritai^'e  iox  ever,  and  the  earnest  of  His 
Spirit  is  to  them  the  blessed  token  that  all  things 
are  theirs.  The  Spirit's  work  of  comfort  and  sancii- 
fication  is  a  part  of  heaven's  covenant  blessings,  a 
turf  from  the  soil  of  Canaan,  a  twig  from  the  tree  of 
life,  the  key  to  mansions  in  the  skies.  Possessing 
the  earnest  of  the  Spirit  we  have  received  seizin  of 
heaven.  — Spurgeon, 

4.  A  matter  of  consciousness. 

(2904.)  It  is  not,  of  course  contended,  that  we 
can  have  absolute  and  demonstrative  •  ertainty  of 
the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  any  more  than  of 
any  other  fact  which  depends  on  evidence,  and  con- 
sequently admits  of  doubt.  We  can  have  as  much 
moral  certainty  as  we  need  for  practice  :  ground 
enough  for  hope  to  build  and  joy  to  flou  ish  on. 
Who  doubts  that  he  is  in  health  «hen  the  pulse 
beats  truly,  and  the  nerves  are  braced,  and  the 
spirits  buoyant,  and  each  organ  with  unlelt  regularity 
elaborates  its  proper  functions?  Questioned  i!  may 
be,  demonstrated  it  cannot  be;   but  we  know  it. 


HOLY  SPIRIT.     THE 


(    497    ) 


HOPE. 


and  are  thankful.  And  so  there  may  be  evidence 
of  the  indwelling  of  the  Spirit  within  us,  not 
demonstrative,  indeed,  but  sufficient  to  make  the 
believer  walk  warily,  as  one  who  has  received  a 
precious  gift  which  he  is  bound  to  cherish,  and  to 
fill  his  bosom  with  peace  and  thankfulness  and  joy 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  — Jackson, 

6.  Its  evidences. 

(2905.)  The  only  true  test  of  the  presence  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  is  its  sanctifying  influence  on  our  hearts 
and  lives.  It  is  evidenced  only  by  its  effects.  So 
much  indeed  would  appear  to  be  conveyed  to  us 
even  by  the  name  by  which  the  Almighty  Com- 
forter has  been  pleased  to  reveal  Himself  to  us  in 
the  pages  of  His  Word.  The  Spirit,  Trveiz/xa, — the 
imperceptible,  yet  vital  breath,  which  is,  and  there 
is  life  and  will  and  motion  ;  which  departs,  and 
all  is  old  and  senseless  and  still  ; — the  impalpable 
and  viewless,  but  powerful  and  beneficent  wind ; 
now  rending  the  rocks  and  laying  low  the  forests; 
now  purifying  the  stagnant  air  or  opening  the 
blossoms  of  spring  ;  now  wafting  the  seeds  each  to 
its  appointed  place.  And  thus  it  was  said  by  our 
blessed  Lord  Himself:  "The  wind  bloweth  where 
it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but 
canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh  and  whither  it 
goeth  ;  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit." 
As  the  vital  principle  of  our  material  frame, — 
which  science  may  search  for  but  cannot  detect,  and 
when  it  has  dissected  the  members,  and  analysed 
the  fluids,  and  untied  the  muscles  and  ganglions, 
and  followed  line  by  line  the  delicate  tracery  of  the 
nerves,  is  forced  to  confess  that  it  has  had  to  do  but 
with  the  instruments  and  mechanism  of  the  mys- 
terious power  within, — may  yet  be  recognised  by  a 
child's  intellect,  in  the  fire  of  the  eye,  the  force  of  the 
arm,  and  tlie  immediate  certainty  with  which  action 
follows  on  the  determination  of  the  will  ;  so  the 
presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  in  the  hearts  of 
His  people,  though  secret  itself, — the  presence  of 
the  Invisible — is  discernible  by  its  effects. 

— Jackiott. 

V.    THE  WITNESS  OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

1.  Variable,  yet  real. 

(2906.)  The  witnessing  of  the  Spirit  admits  of 
degrees  ;  as  the  operations  of  the  Spirit  are  at  one 
time  more  powerful  and  manifest  than  at  another, 
so  may  the  soul's  persuasion  of  its  adoption  by  it 
be.  At  one  time  He  acts  so  powerfully  as  that  all 
fears  and  doubts  are  banished  ;  at  another  time  it 
may  not  be  so  clear,  but  much  overclouded,  and  yet 
accompanied  with  some  degrees  of  persuasion  that 
Christ  is  theirs,  even  though  faith  be  weak.  A  rich 
man's  window  may  be  wider  than  a  poor  man's, 
and  so  the  sun  may  make  his  house  the  more  light, 
that  the  things  within  it  may  be  better  discerned  ; 
but  the  poor  man  may  really  enjoy  the  btams  of 
the  sun,  and  see  what  is  in  his  house  ;  so  the 
poorest,  the  weakest  believer  may  know  the  Spirit 
hath  shined  into  his  heart,  as  well  as  others  that 
enjoy  brighter  beams  than  he  hath  been  acquainted 
withl  — Erskine,  1 685-1 752. 

(2907.)  Do  not  wonder  if  that  evidence  of  which 
we  speak  vary  and  change  in  its  clearness  and  force 
in  your  own  hearts.  "  I'he  flesh  lusteth  against  the 
Spiiit,  and  the  Spirit  against  the  flesh."  Do  not 
think  it  cannot  be  genuine  because  it  is  variable. 


There  is  a  sun  in  the  heavens,  but  there  are 
heavenly  lights,  too,  that  wax  and  wane  ;  they  are 
lights,  they  are  in  the  heavens,  though  they  change. 

— Alaclayen, 

2.  An  evidence  of  the  divine  mission  of  Christ. 

(2908.)  Abundance  of  honest,  holy  souls,  do  liv« 
in  the  fervent  love  of  God  and  in  hatred  of  sin, 
and  in  sincere  obedience,  in  justice  and  cliarity  to 
all  men,  and  in  heavenly  desires  and  delights,  who 
yet  cannot  well  dispute  for  their  religion  ;  nor  yet 
do  they  need  to  fly  to  believe  as  the  Church  be- 
lieveth,  though  they  know  not  what  or  why,  nor 
wliat  the  Church  is.  But  they  have  that  Spirit 
within  them  which  is  the  living  witness  and 
advocate  of  Christ,  and  the  seal  of  God,  and  the 
earnest  of  their  salvation  ;  not  a  mere  j^retence  that 
the  Spirit  persuadeth  them,  and  they  know  not  by 
what  evidence  ;  nor  yet  that  they  count  it  most 
pious  to  believe  strongest  without  evidence  when 
they  least  know  why.  But  they  have  the  Spirit  of 
renovation  and  adoption,  turning  the  very  bent  of 
their  hearts  and  lives  from  the  world  to  God,  and 
from  earth  to  heaven,  and  from  carnality  to  spiri- 
tuality, and  from  sin  to  holiness.  And  this  fully 
assureth  them  that  Christ,  who  hath  actually  saved 
them,  is  their  Saviour,  and  that  He  who  maketh 
good  all  His  undertaking  is  no  deceiver,  and  that 
God  would  not  sanctify  liis  people  in  the  world  by 
a  blasphemy,  a  deceit  and  lie,  and  that  Christ  who 
hath  performed  His  promise  in  this,  which  is  Hij 
earnest,  will  perform  the  rest.  And  withal  the 
very  love  to  God,  and  holiness,  and  heaven,  which 
is  thus  made  their  new  nature  by  the  Spirit  0/ 
Christ,  will  hold  fast  in  the  hour  of  temptation, 
when  reasoning  otherwise  is  too  weak.  Oh,  what  a 
blessed  advantage  have  the  sanctified  against  all 
temptations  to  unbelief !  And  how  lamentably 
are  ungodly  sensualists  disadvant.^ged,  who  have 
deprived  themselves  of  this  inherent  testimony  !  If 
two  men  were  born  blind,  and  one  of  them  had 
been  cured,  and  had  been  shown  the  candlelight 
and  twilight,  how  easy  it  is  for  him  to  believe  his 
physician  if  he  promise  also  to  show  him  the  sun, 
in  comparison  of  what  it  is  to  the  other  who  never 
saw  the  light  1  — Baxter,  1615-1691, 


HOPE. 

I.  DEPICTED. 

(2909.)  Ho/^e  is  a  virgin  of  a  fair  and  clear 
countenance  ;  her  proper  seat  is  upon  earth,  her 
proper  object  is  in  heaven  ;  of  a  quick  and  piercing 
eye  that  can  see  the  glory  of  God,  the  mercy  of 
Christ,  the  society  of  saints  and  angels,  the  joys  of 
paratiise,  through  all  the  clouds  and  orbs  ;  as 
Stephen  saw  heaven  opened,  and  Jesus  standing  in 
the  holy  place.  Her  eye  is  so  fixed  on  the  blessed- 
ness above  that  notliing  in  the  world  can  remove 
it.  Faith  is  her  attorney  -  general,  prayer  her 
solicitor,  patience  her  physician,  charily  her  al- 
moner, thankfulness  her  treasurer,  confidence  her 
vice-admiral,  the  promise  of  God  her  anchor,  peace 
her  chair  of  state,  and  eternal  glory  her  crown. 

— Adams,  1653. 

II.  ITS  INFLUENCE. 

1.  It  Is  the  spring  and  sonl  of  enterprise. 

(2910.)  Hope  of  salvation  puts  the  Christian 
apon  high  and  noble  exploits.    It  is  a  grace  born  fot 

a  I 


HOPE. 


(    493    ) 


HOPE. 


great  actions.     Faith  and  hope  are  the  two  poles 

on  which  all  the  Christian's  noble  enterprises  turn. 
As  carnal  hope  excites  carnal  men  to  their  achieve- 
ments wliich  gain  them  any  renown  in  the  world  ; 
so  is  this  heavenly  hope  inilnential  into  the  saint's 
undertakings.  What  makes  the  merchant  sell  house 
and  land,  and  ship  his  whole  estate  away  to  the 
other  end  almost  of  the  world,  and  this  amidst  a 
thousand  hazards  from  pirates,  waves,  and  winds, 
Dut  hope  to  get  a  greater  by  this  bold  adventure? 
What  makes  the  daring  soldier  rush  into  the  furious 
battle  upon  the  very  mouth  of  death  itself,  but  hope 
to  snatch  honour  and  spoil  out  of  its  jaws?  Hope 
is  his  helmet,  shield,  and  all,  which  makes  him 
laugh  in  the  face  of  all  danger.  In  a  word,  what 
makes  the  scholar  beat  his  brains  so  hard,  some- 
times with  the  hazard  of  breaking  them,  by  over- 
straining his  parts  with  too  eager  and  hot  a  pursuit 
of  learning,  but  hope  of  commencing  some  degrees 
higher  in  the  knowledge  of  those  secrets  in  nature 
that  are  locked  up  Irom  vulgar  understandings? 
who  when  he  hath  attained  his  desire,  is  iiaid  but 
little  better  for  all  his  pains  and  study,  that  have 
worn  nature  in  him  to  the  stumps,  than  he  is  that 
tears  the  flesh  off  his  hands  and  knees  with  creeping 
up  some  craggy  mountain  which  proves  but  a 
barren,  bleak  place,  to  stand  in,  and  wraps  him  up 
in  the  clouds  from  the  sight  of  others,  leaving  him 
little  more  to  please  himself  with  but  this,  that  he 
can  look  over  other  men's  heads,  and  see  a  little 
further  than  they.  Now  if  these  peddling  hopes  can 
prevail  with  men  to  such  fixed  resolutions  for  the 
obtaining  of  the>e  [)oor,  sorry  things,  which  borrow 
part  of  their  go  nlness  from  men's  fancy  and  ima- 
gination, how  much  more  efiectual  must  the  Chris- 
tian's hope  of  eternal  life  be  to  provoke  him  to  the 
achievement  ol  more  noble  exploits  ! 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(291 1.)  Hope  is  the  very  spring  that  sets  all  the 
wheels  agoing.  VVho  would  preach  if  it  were  not  in 
hope  to  prevail  with  poor  sinners  for  their  conver- 
sion and  confirmation  ?  Who  would  pray,  but  for 
the  hope  to  prevail  with  God  ?  Who  would  believe, 
or  obey,  or  strive,  or  suffer,  or  do  anything  for 
heaven,  if  it  were  not  for  the  hope  that  he  hath  to 
obtain  it?  Would  the  mariner  sail,  and  the  mer- 
chant adventure,  if  they  had  not  hope  of  safety  and 
success?  Would  the  husbandman  plough,  and  sow, 
and  take  pains,  if  he  had  not  hope  of  increase  at 
harvest  ?  Would  the  soldier  fight,  if  he  hoped  not 
for  victory?  Surely  no  man  doth  adventure  upon 
known  impossibilities.  — Baxter,  1613-1691. 

(2912.)  Once  on  a  time,  certain  strong  labourers 
were  sent  forth  by  the  great  King  to  level  a  primeval 
forest,  to  plough  it,  to  sow  it,  and  to  bring  to  him 
the  harvest.  They  were  stout-hearted  and  strong, 
and  willing  enough  for  labour,  and  much  the'y 
needed  ail  their  strength  and  more.  One  stalwart 
labourer  was  named  Industry — cunsecraied  work 
was  his.  His  brother  Patience,  with  thews  of  steel, 
went. with  him,  and  tired  not  in  the  longest  days 
under  the  heaviest  labours.  To  help  them  they  had 
Zeal,  clothed  with  ardent  and  indomitable  energy. 
vSide  by  side  there  stood  his  kinsman  Self-denial, 
and  his  iriend  Importunity.  These  went  forth  to 
their  labour,  and  they  took  with  them,  to  cheer 
tht'l.'  toils,  their  well-beloved  sister  Hope  ;  and  well 
it  was  they  did,  for  they  needed  the  music  of  her 
consolation  ere  the  work  was  done,  for  the  forest  trees 


were  huge,  and  demanded  many  sturdy  blows  of 
the  axe  ere  they  would  fall  prone  upon  the  ground. 
One  by  one  the  giant  forest  kings  were  overthrown, 
but  the  labour  was  immense  and  incessant.  At 
night  when  they  went  to  their  rest,  the  day's  work 
always  seemed  so  light,  for  as  they  crossed  the 
threshold,  Patience,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his 
brow,  would  be  encouraged,  and  Self-denial  would 
be  strengthened  by  hearing  the  sweet  voice  of  Hope 
within  singing,  "God  will  bless  us,  God,  even  out 
own  God,  will  bless  us."  They  felled  the  lofty 
trees  to  the  music  of  that  strain ;  tliey  cleared  the 
acres  one  by  one,  they  tore  from  their  sockets  the 
huge  roots,  they  delved  the  soil,  they  sovvcvl  the 
corn,  and  waited  for  the  harvest,  olten  much  dis- 
couraged, but  still  held  to  their  work  as  by  silvei 
chains  and  golden  fetters  by  the  sweet  sound  of  the 
voice  which  chanted  so  constantly,  "God,  even 
our  own  God,  will  bless  us."  They  never  could 
refrain  from  service,  for  Hope  never  could  relrain 
from  song.  They  were  ashamed  to  be  discouraged, 
they  were  shocked  to  be  liespairing,  for  still  the 
voice  rang  clearly  out  at  noon  and  eventide,  "  God 
will  bless  us,  God,  even  our  own  God,  will  bless 
us."  You  know  the  parable,  you  recognise  the 
voice  :  may  you  hear  it  in  your  souls  to-day  1 

— SpurgeoHm 

2.  It  relieves,  sustains,  and  comforts  In  affile* 
tlon. 

(2913.)  Hope  is  indeed  the  rattle  which  nature 
did  provide  to  still  the  froward  crying  of  the  fond 
child,  man.  FelUham,  1668. 

(2914.)  Hope  is  the  handkerchief  that  God  puts 
into  His  peoples'  hands  to  wipe  the  tears  from  their 
eyes,  which  their  present  troubles,  and  long  stay  of 
expected  mercies,  draw  from  them. 

— GiirHall,  i6i'j-i6'jg. 

(2915.)  Hope  breaks  the  alabaster-box  of  the 
promise  over  the  Christian's  head,  and  so  diiTuseth 
the  consolations  thereof  abroad  the  soul,  which  like 
a  precious  ointment,  have  a  virtue  as  to  exhilarate 
and  refresh  the  spirit  in  its  faintings,  so  to  heal  the 
wounds,  and  remove  the  smart,  which  the  Chris- 
tian's poor  heart  may  feel  from  its  affliction.  "  Hope 
maketh  not  ashamed,  because  the  love  of  God  is 
shed  abroad  in  our  hearts." 

— Guriiall,  16 1 7-1 679. 

(2916.)  Tiiis  hope  of  salvation  supports  the  soul 
in  the  greatest  afflictions.  The  Christian's  patience 
is,  as  it  WL-re,  his  back,  on  which  he  bears  his 
burdens  ;  and  some  afllictions  are  so  heavy  that  he 
needs  a  broad  one  to  carry  them  well.  But  if  hope 
lay  not  the  pillow  of  the  promise  between  his  back 
and  his  burtlen,  the  least  cross  will  prove  unsup- 
portable  :  therefore  it  is  called  "The  patience  ol 
hope."  — Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(2917.)  What  the  sponge  is  to  the  cannon  when 
hot  with  often  shooting  in,  that  is  hope  to  the  soul 
in  multiplied  afllictions  ;  it  cools  the  spirit,  and 
meekens  it,  that  it  doth  not  fly  to  pieces,  and  bieak 
out  into  distemper'd  thought  or  \\ords  against  God. 
— Guniall,  1617-1679. 

(291 8.)  Hope  fills  the  afllicted  soul  with  such 
inward  joy  and  consolation,  that  it  can  laugh  whde 
tears  are  in  the  eye,  sigh  and  sing  all  in  a  breath  ; 
it  is  called   "  the  rejoicing  of  hope"    (lieb.  iii.  6j. 


HOPE. 


(    499     ) 


HOPE. 


And  hope  never  affords  more  joy  than  in  affliction  ; 
it  is  on  a  watery  cloud  that  the  sun  paints  those 
curious  colours  in  the  rainbow.  We  "  rejoice  in 
tlie  hope  of  glory,  and  not  only  so,  but  we  glory 
in  tribulation."  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(2919.)  A  religious  hope  does  not  only  bear  up 
the  miad  under  her  sufferings,  but  makes  lier  rejoice 
in  them.  — Addison,  1672- 17 19. 

(2920.)  Hope  throws  a  generous  contempt  upon 
ill  usage,  and  looks  like  a  handsome  defiance  of  a 
misfortune  ;  as  who  should  say,  You  are  somewhat 
troublesome  now,  but  I  shall  conquer  you. 

— Jeraity  Coiner,  1 650-1 726. 

(2921.)  Hope  is  necessary  in  every  condition. 
The  miseries  of  poverty,  of  sickness,  or  captivity, 
would,  without  tins  comfort,  be  insupportable  ;  nor 
does  it  a[5pear  that  the  happiest  lot  of  terrestrial 
existence  can  set  us  above  the  want  of  this  general 
blessing  ;  or  that  life,  when  the  gifts  of  nature  and 
of  fortune  are  accumulated  upon  it,  would  not  still 
be  wretched,  were  it  not  elevated  and  delighted  by 
the  expectation  of  some  new  possession,  of  some 
enjoyment  yet  behind,  by  which  the  wish  shall  be 
at  last  satisfied,  and  the  heart  filled  up  to  its 
Utmost  extent. 

Hope  is,  indeed,  very  fallacious,  and  promises 
what  it  seldom  gives  ;  but  its  promises  are  more 
valuable  than  the  gifts  of  fortune,  and  it  seldom 
frustrates  us  without  assuring  us  of  recompensing 
the  delay  by  a  greater  bounty. 

— Dr.  S.  Johnson,  1 709-1784. 

5.  It  sustains  In  the  conflicts  and  temptations 
of  life. 

(2922.)  As  the  whole  use  of  the  anchor  is  to  hold 
fast  the  ship  in  one  sure  and  certain  jjlace,  notwith- 
standing all  tempests  and  waves  beating  against  it, 
because  it  entereth  into  the  very  bottom  ot  the  sea, 
there  taking  fa>t  hold  :  even  so  the  principal  use  of 
hope  is  to  enter  into  the  heaven  of  heavens,  where 
Christ  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  and  to  hold 
fast  our  souls  there  with  Him,  notwithstanding  all 
the  waves  and  tempests  of  Satan,  sin,  and  condem- 
nation do  beat  daily  and  continually  against  them. 
— Cawdray,  1609. 

(2923.)  Like  a  valiant  captain,  in  a  losing  battle, 
hope  is  ever  encouraging  man,  and  never  leaves 
him  till  they  both  expire  together.  It  is  almost  as 
the  air  by  which  the  mind  doth  live. 

—Felitham,  1 668. 

4.  It  enables  a  man  to  be  belpful  to  bis  fellow- 
men. 

(2924.)  The  man  who  carries  a  lantern  in  a  dark 
night  can  have  Iriends  all  around  him,  walking 
safely  by  the  help  of  its  rajs,  and  he  not  defrauded. 
So  he  who  has  the  God-given  light  of  hope  in  his 
breast  can  help  on  many  others  in  this  world's  dark- 
ness, not  to  his  own  loss,  but  to  their  precious  gain. 

— Bieclur. 

6.  We  should  therefore  pray  that  it  may  be 
Increased  in  us. 

(2925.)  There  are  many  Christians  who,  all  their 
life  long,  carry  their  hope  as  a  boy  carries  a  bird's 
nest  containing  an  unfledged  bird  that  can  scarcely 
peep,  much  less  sing — a  poor,  fledgeless  hope. 

— Becclur. 


III.  HOW  AND  WHY  A  CHRISTIAN  HOPB. 
IS  TO  BE  ATTAINED. 

(2926.)  There  are  persons  that  cannot  do  other- 
wise than  hope  ;  and  after  they  have  once  resolved 
that  they  will  live  a  Christian  lile,  it  never  enters 
their  head  that  they  are  going  to  do  anything  else,' 
or  that  there  can  be  but  one  result.  They  say, 
"If  a  man  comes  to  me,  I  will  not  cast  him  out  ; 
and  when  I  go  to  Christ,  He  will  not  cast  me  out." 
They  consiiler  it  a  settled  thing.  It  may  be  pre- 
sumptuous sometimes  ;  but  when  persons  are  soundly 
converted,  it  is  not.  Then  it  is  eminently  Gospel- 
like. A  man  says  to  his  creditor,  "  I  owe  you  a 
debt,  and  I  am  utterly  unable  to  pay  it.  You  hold 
my  note.  It  lies  against  my  industry.  I  do  not 
see  how  I  am  going  to  get  along."  "Well,"  says 
the  creditor,  "I  will  cancel  that  debt;"  and  he 
takes  the  note,  and  dashes  his  pen  across  it,  and 
hands  it  to  the  man.  Anil  you  cannot  persuade  the 
man  that  he  any  longer  owes  the  debt.  He  knows 
that  it  is  cancelled,  and  that  that  is  the  end  of  it. 

Now  a  man  says,  "  I  owed  Christ  a  debt,  and 
could  not  pay  it  ;  but  Christ  has  cancelled  it,  and  it 
cannot  stanil  against  me  any  longer."  Then  he  acts 
as  if  he  really  believed  liiat  it  was  cancelled..  Is 
not  that  sensible?  Is  not  that  Christian?  Another 
man  says,  "  I  should  like  to  do  just  so,  but  I  can- 
not. 1  do  not  know  what  is  the  reason.  Some- 
times, when  I  go  to  the  prayer-meetings,  and  sing 
sweet  Christian  hymns,  and  hear  the  brethren  pray, 
I  get  lifted  into  this  joyful  experience  ;  but,  I  do 
not  know  why,  the  next  morning  I  feel  worse  than 
I  did  before."  There  are  a  great  many  persons  who 
are  of  a  vine-like  nature,  and  who  depend  for  their 
religious  support  on  the  influences  that  are  exerted 
upon  them  by  stronger  Christians.  And  when  they 
are  left  to  themselves,  they  are  like  vines  that, 
having  fallen,  are  trailing  on  the  ground. 

Many  persons  do  not  know  how  to  feed  themselves 
spiritually.  When  fooil  is  presented  to  them  by 
others,  they  see  it,  and  are  nourished  by  it  ;  but  the 
moment  others  cease  to  present  it  to  them,  they 
cease  to  perceive  it  and  to  be  benefited  by  it.  They 
have  not  the  power  to  minister  it  to  themselves. 
They  are  unable  without  help  to  gain  these  views  ; 
and,  failing  to  have  the  views,  they  tail  to  have  that 
experience  of  peace  which  is  the  result  of  them. 

— Beecher. 

IV.  CA  UTIONS  CONCERNING  ITS  EXERCISB. 

1.  We  Should  remember  that  many  of  the  hopes 
we  cherish  are  baseless  and  illusory. 

(2927.)  Our  ho[)e<,  I  see,  resemble  much  the  sun. 
That  rising  and  declining  casts  large  shadows  ; 
But    when    his    beams    are    diess'd     in    mid-da 

brightness, 
Yields  none  at  all  :  when  they  are  farthest  from 
Success,  their  gilt  reflection  tloes  display 
The  largest  show  of  events  fair  and  prosp'rous. 

—  CJiapman, 

2.  We  should  not  set  our  hopes  on  too  distant 

objects. 

(2928.)  It  is  a  precept  several  times  inculcated  by 
Horace,  that  we  siioiild  not  entertain  a  hope  o(  any- 
thing in  life  which  lies  at  a  great  distance  Irom  us. 
The  shortness  and  uncertainty  of  our  time  here 
makes  such  a  kind  of  hope  unreasonable  and  absurd. 
The  grave  lies  unseen  between  us  and   the  object 


HOPE. 


(    S<»    ) 


HUMILITY. 


which  we  reach  after.  Where  one  man  lives  to 
enjoy  the  good  he  has  in  view,  ten  thousand  are 
cut  otif  in  the  pursuit  of  it. 

— Addison,  1 672-1 7 19. 

3.  We  should  not  permit  our  hopes  to  become 
extravagant  or  idle, 

(2929.)  If  we  hope  for  what  we  are  not  likely  to 
possess,  we  act  and  think  in  vain,  and  make  life  a 
greater  dream  and  shadow  than  it  really  is. 

— Addison,  1 672-1 7 19. 

(2930.)  Used  with  due  abstinence,  hope  acts  as 
a  healthful  tonic  ;  intemperately  indulged,  as  an 
enervating  opiate.  The  visions  of  future  triumph 
which  at  first  animate  exertion,  if  dwelt  upon  too 
intensely,  will  usurp  the  place  of  the  stern  realiiy  ; 
and  noble  objects  will  be  contemplated,  not  lor 
iheir  own  inherent  worth,  but  on  account  of  the 
fiay-dreams  they  engender.  Thus  hope,  aided  by 
imagination,  makes  one  man  a  hero,  another  a 
somnambulist,  and  a  third  a  lunatic  ;  while  it 
renders  them  all  enthusiasts.     — Sir.  J,  Stephen, 

4.  We  should  test  Its  reality. 

(2931.)  How  many  Christians  there  are  who 
have  a  hope  which  lasts  only  until  they  need  to 
use  it  I  How  many  persons  there  are  who  are  able 
to  sustain  sorrow  until  sorrow  comes  upon  them  ! 
How  many  there  are  who  trust  in  God  until  they 
have  occasion  to  trust  in  Him  1 

Do  you  recollect  the  scene  in  Don  Quixote  in 
which  the  immortal  knight  put  upon  himself  a  helmet 
made  of  pasteboard  ?  That  helmet  being  smitten 
and  pierced  by  a  sword,  he  sewed  it  up  again,  and 
would  not  part  with  it,  but  in  his  insanity  wore  it, 
and  felt  that  he  had  an  all-sufficient  helmet  on  his 
head.  Are  there  not  many  Don  Quixotes  among 
men,  who  put  on  armour  that  looks  very  well  till 
some  sword  or  spear  is  thrust  into  it,  but  which 
then  is  found  to  be  like  the  pasteboard  helmet  that 
went  to  pieces  the  moment  it  was  touched  ?  If  we 
are  to  have  a  piety  that  shall  sustain  us  in  the  flood 
and  in  the  fire  ;  if  we  are  to  have  a  faith  that  shall 
be  an  all-sufficient  armour  by  day  and  by  night,  the 
year  round,  and  from  year  to  year,  we  must  have 
one  that  is  made  up  of  something  better  than  mere 
pasteboard  instruction  or  a  paper  belief. 

— Beecher. 

(2932.)  It  is  quite  in  vain  for  any  of  us  to  have  a 
hope  in  God  which  is  valid  only  in  the  fair  hour  of 
prosperity  and  of  health.  When  an  anchor  is  thrown 
overboard,  if  it  floats  in  the  stream  it  is  useless. 
No  anchor  is  of  any  use  whatsoever  to  a  ship  that 
cannot  by  its  cable  go  down  to  take  hold  of  the 
firm  bottom,  and  that,  taking  hold  of  it,  is  not  able 
to  keep  the  ship.  If  when  the  storm  beats,  if  when 
the  whole  concentrated  fury  of  the  storm  beats  on 
the  ship,  the  anchor  holds  it,  that  is  an  anchor 
worth  having.  Woe  to  the  mariner  whose  anchor 
breaks  in  the  time  of  testing  !  If  you  have  a  hope 
that  is  good   when  you  are  young,    when   you  are 

Erosperous,  and  wiien  you  are  happy,  but  does  not 
old  you  when  you  are  sick,  when  you  are  cast  out, 
when  you  are  bereaved  and  discouraged,  when  life 
is  taken  away  from  you — if  you  have  no  hope  that 
holds  you  then,  you  have  got  nothing  at  all.  An 
anchor  that  not  only  deceives  men  with  the  appear- 
ince  of  safety,  but  that  gives  way  in  the  hour  of 


danger,  is  worse  than  none  at  all — a  hope  that  holds 
a  man  when  he  does  not  need  holding,  but  breaks 
when  he  does.  — Beecher. 

V.  ITS  DISAPPOINTMENTS. 

(2933)  The  setting  of  a  great  hope  is  like  the 
setting  of  the  sun.  The  brightness  of  our  life  is^ 
gone,  shadows  of  the  evening  fall  around  us,  and 
the  world  seems  but  a  dim  reflection  itself, — a 
broader  shadow.  We  look  forward  into  the  coming 
lonely  night :  the  soul  withdraws  itself.  Then 
stars  arise,  and  the  night  is  holy.      — Longfellow, 

(2934.)  It  is  when  our  budding  hopes  are  nipped 
beyond  recovery  by  some  rough  wind,  that  we  are 
the  most  disposed  to  picture  to  ourselves  what 
flowers  they  might  have  borne  if  they  had  flourished. 

— Dickens. 

(2935.)  Hope  is  the  ruddy  morning  of  joy,  re- 
collection is  its  golden  tinge  ;  but  the  latter  is  wont 
to  sink  amid  the  dews  and  dusky  shades  of  twilight ; 
and  the  bright  blue  day  which  the  former  promises, 
breaks  indeed,  but  in  another  world,  and  with 
another  sun.  — Richter. 

VI.  A  HOPE  THAT  WILL  NOT  BE  DIS- 
APPOINTED. 

(2936.)  The  supreme  hope  of  seeing  Christ  is 
a  hope  that  will  never,  never  be  disappointed. 
Many  hopes  we  cherish  that  are  disappointed  ; 
many  purposes  we  (orni  that  have  to  be  broken  off. 
In  fact,  my  brethren,  human  life  is,  after  all,  a  pile 
of  fragments  or  half-built  towers ;  and  there  are 
few  of  us  who  have  attained  to  anything  like  mature 
years  whose  hearts  may  not  be  compared  to  the 
graveyards,  where  lie  entombed  many  earthly 
dreams,  the  objects  of  young  ambition,  as  well  as 
many  plans  and  pursuits  that  w£  once  followed 
eagerly,  but  are  now  ashamed  of,  or  perhaps  have 
abandoned  to  take  up  fresh  courses  altogether.  But, 
my  friends,  the  hope  of  the  Bridegroom's  coming 
is  a  hope  that  will  never  fail  us,  a  hope  that  we 
never  need  relinquish,  and  of  which  we  shall  never 
despair.  As  our  life-star,  it  shall  lead  us  on,  like 
the  star  which  guided  the  wise  men,  and  never 
disappear  till  it  actually  brings  us  to  the  vision  oL 
Christ  —R.  AK.  Forrest. 


HUMILITY. 

I.    IN  IVHA  T  IT  CONSISTS. 

1.  Not  in  under-rating  ourselves. 

(2937.)  Humility  doth  no  more  require  that  k 
wise  man  think  his  knowledge  equal  with  a  fool's, 
or  ignorant  man's,  than  that  a  sound  man  take  him- 
self to  be  sick.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2938.)  If  a  man  does  not  take  notice  of  that 
excellency  and  perfection  that  is  in  himself,  how 
can  he  be  thankful  to  God,  who  is  the  author  of  all 
excellency  and  perfection  ?  Nay,  if  a  man  hath  too 
mean  an  opinion  of  himself,  it  will  render  him 
unserviceable  both  to  God  and  man. 

— Seiden,  1 584-1654. 


HUMILlTiT. 


(    501    ) 


HUMILITY. 


t.  But  In  not  over-valuing  ourselves. 

(2939.)  Humility  consists  not  in  wearing  mean 
clothes,  and  going  softly  and  submissively,  but  in 
mean  opinion  of  thyself. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(2940.)  By  humility  I  mean  not  the  abjectness  of 
t  base  mind  ;  but  a  prudent  care  not  to  over-value 
ourselves  upon  any  account. 

— Grew,  1 607-1 698. 

(2941.)  What  do  you  esteem  yourself  before  God  ? 
Doubtless  nothing.  It  is  no  great  humility  in  a 
fly  to  esteem  itself  nothing  in  comparison  to  a  moun- 
tain ;  nor  for  a  drop  of  water  to  hold  itself  nothing 
"n  comparison  of  the  sea  ;  nor  for  a  spark  of  fire  to 
hold  itself  nothing  in  respect  of  the  sun.  But 
humility  consists  in  not  esteeming  ourselves  above 
others,  and  in  not  desiring  to  be  so  esteemed  by 
others.  — Francis  de  Hales, 

II.  ITS  CHARACTERISTICS. 
1.  It  Is  not  self-conscious. 

(2942.)  In  spiritual  graces  let  us  study  to  be 
great,  and  not  to  know  it,  as  the  fixed  stars  are 
every  one  bigger  than  the  earth,  yet  aj'pear  to  us 
less  than  torclies,  — Adams,  1653. 

(2943.)  Those  persons  who  do  most  good  are 
least  conscious  of  it.  The  man  who  has  but  a 
single  virtue  or  charity  is  very  much  like  the  hen 
that  has  but  one  chicken,  lltat  solitary  chicken 
calls  forth  an  amount  of  cluclcing  and  scratching 
that  a  whole  brood  seldom  causes.  — Beecher. 

%.  It  delights  In  privacy. 

(2944.)  Pride  loves  to  climb  up,  not  as  Zaccheus 
to  see  Christ,  but  to  be  seen  himself.  *'  The  fool  " 
(Solomon  tells  us)  "  hath  no  delight  in  understand- 
ing, but  that  his  heart  may  discover  itself."  Pride 
would  be  somebody,  and  therefore  comes  abroad  to 
court  the  multitude,  whereas  humility  delights  in 
privacy  ;  as  the  leaves  do  cover  and  shade  the  fruits, 
that  some  hand  must  gently  lift  them  up  before  they 
can  see  the  fruit :  so  shouM  humility  and  a  holy 
modesty  conceal  the  perfections  of  the  soul,  till  a 
band  of  Providence  by  some  call  invites  them  out. 
— Guriiall,  161 7-1679. 

(2945.)  Hast  thou  passed  by  the  hedgerow  at 
eventide,  and  has  a  delicious  fragrancy  been  all 
about  thee,  and  thou  knewest  not  whence  it  came? 
Hast  thou  searched  and  found  the  sweet  violets 
hidden  beneath  its  leaves,  and  known  that  it  was 
that  which  gave  its  odours  to  the  air  around  thee? 
Thus  should  the  Christian  make  sweet  the  place  of 
his  abode  with  the  peri'ume  of  his  good  deeds  ;  and 
thus,  in  all  humility,  should  he  endeavour  to  remain 
unnoticed  himself.  When  thou  seest  the  hungry 
fed,  and  the  naked  clothed,  the  sick  man  visited, 
ind  the  widow  comforted — search,  and  thou  shalt 
find  the  flower  whence  all  this  odour  arose  :  thou 
shalt  find  full  often  that  the  Christian  hath  been 
there  constrained  by  the  love  of  Christ. 

Salter. 

III.  IS  CONSTANTLY  EXEMPLIFIED  IN 
THE  U^ISE  AND  GOOD. 

(2946.)  See  how,  in  the  fanning  of  this  wheat, 
the  fullest  and  greatest  grains  lie  ever  the  lowest ; 


and  the  lightest  take  up  the  highest  place.  It  U 
no  otherwise  in  morality  :  those  which  are  most 
humble  are  fullest  of  grace ;  and  ofttimes  these 
have  most  conspicuity  which  have  the  least  sub- 
stance. To  affect  obscurity  or  submission  is  base  and 
suspicious  ;  but  that  man,  whose  modesty  presents 
him  mean  to  his  own  eyes  and  lowly  to  others,  is 
commonly  secretly  rich  in  virtue.  Give  me  rather 
a  low  fulness  than  an  empty  advancement. 

— Hall,  1 5  74- 1 656. 

(2947.)  True  goodness  is  proved  like  true  balm  ; 
for  as  balm,  when  dropped  into  water,  if  it  sinks 
and  rests  at  the  bottom  is  accounted  the  most  excel- 
lent and  precious  ;  so,  would  you  know  whether  a 
man  be  truly  wise,  learned,  or  generous,  observe 
whether  his  qualifications  tend  to  humility,  modesty, 
and  submission,  for  then  they  shall  be  good  indeed  ; 
but  if  they  swim  on  the  surface,  and  strive  to 
appear  above  water,  they  shall  be  so  much  the  less 
true  in  the  same  proportion  as  they  appear. 

— De  Sales. 

(2948.)  Samuel,  the  judge  and  high  priest  ol 
Israel,  one  day  visited  the  school  of  the  prophets 
at  Gibeah,  which  he  had  founded  ;  and  rejoiced  at 
the  progress  which  the  pupils  of  the  prophets  had 
made  in  various  kinds  of  knowledge,  and  the  art  of 
playing  the  lute,  and  in  songs.  Among  them  was 
a  youth,  named  Adoniah,  the  son  of  IViilcha,  who 
found  favour  in  the  eyes  of  Samuel  ; — for  his  counte- 
nance was  fair  to  look  upon,  and  the  sound  of  his 
voice  was  full  of  strength  and  sweetness.  But  his 
heart  was  filled  with  pride  and  empty  delusion,  be- 
cause he  was  superior  to  otiiers  in  knowledge  and 
understanding.  He  fancied  himself  wiser  than 
seven  sages,  and  behaved  haughtily  towards  his 
teachers,  and  his  lips  were  full  of  empty  words  and 
of  conceit.  The  judge  of  Israel  had  compassion  on 
the  boy  Adoniah,  for  he  loved  him  more  than  the 
rest,  because  he  was  full  of  wisdom  and  fair  to  look 
upon.  Therefore  Samuel  said,  "  The  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  has  chosen  this  boy  to  be  a  prophet  in  Israel  ; 
but  he  strives  a^jainst  Him,  ami  will  mar  His  work." 

Then  Samuel  led  forth  the  youth  into  the  moun- 
tains, to  a  vineyard  which  lay  towards  Ramah. 
And  behold,  it  was  the  time  that  the  vine  was  in 
bloom. 

Then  Samuel  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  said, 
"Adoniah,  what  seest  thou?"  Adoniah  answered, 
"  I  see  a  vineyard,  and  I  inhale  the  sweet  odour  of 
blossoms."  And  Samuel  said,  "Approach  and 
examine  the  flower  of  the  vine.'* 

The  youth  obeyed,  and  answered,  "  It  is  a 
tender  little  flower,  simple  and  humble."  Then 
Samuel  answered,  and  said,  "  And  yet  it  produces 
God's  fruit,  to  gladden  man's  heart,  and  to 
strengthen  his  body  and  make  it  fair.  Adoniah, 
thus  is  the  pleasant  vine  in  the  time  of  its  bloom, 
before  it  brings  forth  the  delicious  fruit.  Remember 
the  vine  in  the  days  of  thy  blooming  youth  !  " 

And  Adoniah,  the  son  of  Milcha,  kept  all  these 
words  of  Samuel  in  his  heart,  and  henceforth  he 
walked  with  humble  and  gentle  spirit.  Then  all 
men  loved  Adoniah,  and  said,  "  The  Spirit  of  God 
is  come  upon  the  youth." 

And  Adoniah  increased  in  wisdom  and  beauty, 
and  became  a  man  like  the  herdsman  of  Tekoa  and 
Isaiah  the  son  of  Amoz,  and  his  name  was  praised 
in  Israel.  "-F.  A.  Krummacher, 


HUMILITY, 


(    502    ) 


HUMILITY. 


(2949.)  The  highest  piety  being  ever  associated 
with  tiie  deejiest  liuniility,  trvie  religion  is  like  that 
sweetest  of  all  singing  binls.  the  skylarlc,  which,  with 
the  lowest  nest  but  highest  wing,  dwells  on  the 
ground,  and  yet  soars  to  the  skies.         — Guthrie. 

IV.    ITS  IMPORTANCE. 

1.  It  is  tne  foundation  of  Cbristian  character. 

(2950.)  As  a  building  is  so  much  the  stronger  as 
the  groundwork  of  the  same  is  laid  deeper  :  even 
so  the  groundwork  of  Christian  philosophy  is  un- 
feigned humility,  and  the  deeper  the  same  is  settled 
in  our  hearts,  the  surer  and  more  permanent  will 
the  building  of  our  religion  be.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

2951.)  A  heart  full  of  pride  is  but  a  vessel  full 
of  air ;  this  self-opinion  must  be  blovvn  out  of 
us  before  saving  knowledge  be  poured  into  us. 
Humility  is  the  knees  of  the  soul,  and  to  that 
posture  the  Lamb  will  open  the  book  ;  but  pride 
stands  upon  tijitoes,  as  if  she  would  snatch  the 
book  out  of  Christ's  hand  and  unclasp  it  herself. 
The  first  lesson  of  a  Christian  is  humility  ;  and  he 
that  hath  not  learned  the  first  lesson  is  not  fit  to 
take  out  a  new.  — Adams,  1653. 

(2952.)  Humility  is  the  first  lesson  we  learn  from 
reflection,  and  -elf-distrust  the  first  proof  we  give  of 
having  obtained  a  knowledge  of  ourselves. 

—  Zinunermann,  1 728-1 795. 

(2953.)  True  humility,  the  basis  of  the  Christian 
system,  is  the  low,  but  deep  and  firm,  foundation 
of  all  real  virtue.  Burke,  1 728-1 797. 

2.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  our  acceptance 
with  God. 

(2954.)  Humility  is  all  important  in  Christian 
morality.  It  is  necessary,  in  order  to  change  every 
apjiarently  good  action  into  a  really  Christian 
action,  and  to  make  it  acceptable  whh  God.  It  is 
like  the  cipher  at  the  right  hand  of  a  figure,  nothing 
in  itself,  hut  yet  increasing  tenfold  the  value  of  that 
with  which  it  is  connected.  It  is  the  salt,  giving 
savour  to  otherwise  tasteless  food.  Yet  we  some- 
times see  men  actually  proud  of  their  right  feelings 
or  right  actions,  and  theieby  vitiating  them  alto- 
gether. — Cotton. 

3.  It  qualifies  us  for  the  reception  of  grace, 

(2955.)  God  promises  His  grace  to  the  humble, 
and  therefore  there  must  be  something  in  humility 
that  disposes  men  for  grace.  This  heavenly  rain  in 
this  differs  from  the  natural,  that  it  falls  chiefly  in 
the  lower  phices,  whereas  that  falls  indifferently. 
But  herein,  however,  it  resembles  the  natural  rain, 
that  however  it  falls,  yet  it  stays  and  lodges  in  the 
lower  grounds,  in  the  valleys,  which  also  is  the 
chief  place  for  springs  and  fountains,  according  to 
that  observation  of  the  Psalmist  :  "He  sendeth  the 
springs  into  the  valleys,  which  run  among  the  hills." 
Now  to  these  valleys,  both  St.  Austin  and  St.  Ber- 
nard compare  the  humble  and  low-spirited  man.  So 
St.  Austin  :  "If  they  are  humble,  they  are  valleys, 
they  take  what  is  infused  and  do  not  let  it  go.  If 
water  lalls  upon  a  high  place,  it  runs  down  and 
falls  off  ;  but  if  upon  a  concavous  and  low  place, 
it  is  there  receiveil,  and  there  it  stands."  He  might 
have  further  a'ided, — and  enriches  it,  and  makes  it 
faruitfuL     And  so   it  is  with  the  hearts  of  humble  I 


men,  those  spiritual  valleys,  they  receive  the  g^ate 
of  God  and  keep  it  (there  being  nothing  n  the 
spirit  (if  humility  that  is  offensive  to  tlie  Spirit  of 
God,  that  grieves  or  provokes  Him  to  depart) 
and  l)eing  thus  under  the  standing  and  remaining 
influences  of  the  dew  of  heaven,  they  grow  fruitful 
with  it,  and  abound  in  every  good  word  and  work  ; 
and  so,  as  the  Psalmist  says,  "  The  valleys  also  are 
covered  over  with  corn  ;  they  shout  for  joy." 

— Norrisy  1707. 
4.  It  ennobles  our  nature. 

(2956.)  The  humble  man  is  a  lowly  valley, 
sweetly  planted  and  well  watered  ;  the  proud  man's 
earth,  whereon  he  tramples,  but  secretly  full  of 
wealthy  mines,  more  worth  tiian  he  that  walks  over 
them  ;  a  rich  stone  set  in  lead  ;  and  lastly,  a  true 
temple  of  God  built  with  a  low  roof. 

— Hall,  1 574-1 656. 

(2957.)  Humility  leads  to  the  highest  distinction, 
because  it  leads  to  self-improvement.  Study  your 
own  characters  ;  endeavour  to  learn  and  to  supply 
your  own  deficiencies;  never  assume  to  yourselves 
qualities  which  you  do  not  possess;  combine  all 
this  with  energy  and  activity,  and  you  cannot  pre- 
dicate of  yourselves,  nor  can  others  predicate  of  you, 
at  what  point  you  may  arrive  at  last. 

— Sir  Benjamin  Brodie. 

6.  It  is  the  life  of  prayer. 

(2958.)  Well,  Christian,  if  thou  wouldst  keep 
thy  soul  awake,  take  heed  thou  losest  not  the  sense 
of  thy  wants.  I'Sgging  is  the  poor  man's  traile  ; 
when  thou  beginnest  to  conceit  thyself  rich,  then 
thou  wilt  be  in  danger  of  ceasing  to  beg,  that  is,  to 
pray.  — Guruall,  26 17-1679. 

6.  It  Is  the  saffeg-uard  of  all  the  virtues. 
(2959.)   Humility  is  the  chain  of  the  chaplet  of 
all  the  virtues.  — Vianiiey. 

(2960.)  Humility  is  not  only  a  firtue  in  itself,  but 
a  vessel  to  contain  other  virtues  :  like  embers, 
which  keep  the  fire  alive  that  is  hidden  under  it. 

— Adams,  1653. 

V.  ITn  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 
AND  LIFE. 

1.  It  promotes  growth  in  grace. 

(2961.)  As  a  tree,  the  more  deeply  it  is  rooted  in 
the  earth,  the  taller  it  groweth  :  even  so,  a  man,  the 
more  humble  he  is,  the  higher  doth  the  Lord  exalt 
him.  — Cawdray.  1609. 

(2962.)  Where  do  the  rivers  run  that  fertilise  our 
soil — is  it  on  the  top  of  yonder  hill?  No!  in  the 
vales  beneath.  If  you  would  have  "the  river 
whose  ;;reams  make  glad  the  city  of  our  God  "  to 
run  through  your  hearts,  and  enrich  them  to  His 
glory,  you  must  abide  in  the  vale  of  humility. 

2.  It  makes  men  contented. 

(2963.)  As  light,  where  it  is,  cannot  but  shine, 
nor  fire  choose  but  burn,  so  where  humility  is,  it 
\\\\\  make  a  man  frame  himself  thereto  within  and 
without.  In  his  miiul,  to  take  up  lowly  thoughts 
and  desires;  without,  to  acquaint  himsell  with 
words  and  all  courses  which  suit  with  the  lowliness 
of  his  mind.  A  bladder  when  it  is  full  of  wind 
does  swell  so  big  that  we  cannot  grip  it  in  our 
hand,  but  when  the  wind  is  pressed  or  let  out,  it  i? 


HUMILITY. 


(    503    ) 


HUMILITY, 


a  small  matter,  and  is  easily  contained  in  a  little 
compass  ;  so  pride  does  so  puff  up  a  man  that  he 
swells  big  at  heart,  louks  big,  speaks  big,  and  is 
hardly  saiislied  with  any  honour.  But  when  humility 
comes,  that  presses  out  that  wind  by  which  the 
heart  was  swollen,  and  then  a  man  sets  much  less 
by  himself,  and  is  lowly  in  his  words  and  looks, 
and  can  make  himself  equal  with  those  of  low 
degree.  — Bayne,  161 8. 

(2964.)  The  humble  know  it  is  much  easier  to  obey 
than  govern,  and  that  the  valleys  are  the  most  fruit- 
ful grounds,  and  that  it  is  the  cedars  and  mountain 
trees  that  are  blown  down,  and  not  the  shrubs,  and 
that  a  low  condition  affordeth  not  only  more  safety, 
but  more  leisure  and  quietness  to  converse  with 
God,  and  that  it  is  a  mercy  that  others  may  be 
employed  in  his  preservation,  and  keeping  the  walls, 
and  watching  tlie  house,  while  he  may  follow  his 
work  in  quietne.-s  and  peace  ;  and  therefore  willingly 
payeth  honour  and  tribute  to  whom  it  is  due. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691, 

8.  It  makes  men  tbaakful. 

(2965.)  Objects  seem  large  or  little  according  to 
the  medium  through  which  they  are  viewed.  In 
the  microscope,  wliat  a  remarkable  change  they 
imdergo  !  The  humble  moss  rises  into  a  graceful 
tree  ;  the  beetle,  armed  for  battle,  flashes  in  gulden 
or  silver  mail ;  a  grain  of  sand  swells  into  a  mass  of 
rock  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  a  mountain  looked 
at  through  the  wrong  end  of  a  telescope  sinks  into 
a  mole-hill,  and  the  broad  lake  contracts  into  a  tiny 
pool.  Even  so,  according  as  we  look  at  them,  with 
the  eyes  of  self-condemning  humility,  or  of  self- 
righteous  pride,  God's  mercies  seem  great  or  little. 
For  example,  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  passing  one 
day  near  a  cottage,  was  attracted  to  its  door  by  the 
sound  of  a  loud  and  earnest  voIqc.  It  was  a  bare 
and  lonely  dwelling  ;  the  home  of  a  man  who  was 
childless,  old,  ^nd  poor.  Drawing  near  this  mean 
and  humble  cabin,  ihe  stranger  at  length  made  out 
these  words,  "This,  and  Jesus  Christ  too!  this, 
and  Jesus  Christ  too  !"  as  they  were  repeated  over 
and  over  in  tones  of  deep  emotion,  of  wonder,  grati- 
tude, and  praise.  His  curiosity  was  roused  to  see 
what  that  could  be  which  called  forth  such  fervent, 
overflowing  thanks.  Stealing  near,  he  looked  in  at 
the  patched  and  broken  window  ;  and  there  in  the 
form  of  a  grey,  bent,  worn-out  son  of  toil,  at  a  rude 
table,  with  hands  raised  to  God,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  some  crusts  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  «  ater,  sat  piety, 
peace,  humility,  contentment,  exclaiming,  "This, 
and  Jesus  Christ  too  1 "  — UulhrU, 

4.  It  makes  men  useful. 

(2966.)  The  boughs  which  are  best  laden  with 
fruit  hang  downwards,  and  we  can  v\ith  the  most 
ease  gather  the  fruit  from  them  ;  high  trees  are 
commonly  fruitless,  and  what  grows  on  them  is 
hard  to  come  by  ;  it  hangs  .^o  high  above  our  reach. 
So  have  vvp  iiiore  good  of  the  humble,  as  who  have 
most  good  in  tliem,  and  do  communicate  it  to  us. 
Such  as  are  proud  liave  for  the  most  part  least  true 
good  in  them,  or  look  so  high,  tliat  the  fruit  they 
bear  cannot  be  reached  by  God's  poor  [leople. 

— Baynd,  1618. 

(2967.)  A  Christian  minister  said,  "I  was  never 
of  any  use  until  1  found  out  that  God  did  not  make 
me  for  a  great  man." 


VI.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  ATTAINED. 

(2968.)  Let  us  bring  ourselves  to  greater  lightj 
than  our  own  ;  that  is,  oft  come  into  the  com- 
pany of  those  that  have  greater  grace  than  ourselves. 
The  stars  give  no  light  when  the  sun  is  up.  The 
stars  are  something  in  the  nighi,  but  they  are  no- 
thing in  the  day.  And  those  that  are  conceited  of 
their  own  excellences,  when  they  come  into  the 
presence  and  company,  and  converse  with  those 
that  are  better  than  themselves,  their  spirits  lall 
down,  they  are  abased.  — ^ibbes,  i577-'635. 

(2969.)  A  sight  of  God's  glory  humbles  :  Elijah 
wrapped  his  face  in  a  mantle  when  God's  glory 
passed  by.  "Now  mine  eye  seeth  Thee,  where- 
fore 1  abhor  myself"  (Job  xlii.  S).  The  stars  vanish 
when  the  sun  appears.  — IVatson,  1696. 

(2970.)  The  creature  never  appears  so  pitiful  and 
inconsiderable  as  when  it  views  itself  with  one  eye, 
and  its  Creator  with  the  other. 

Everything  is  more  apjiarent  as  it  stands  com- 
pared with  its  opposite.  Man  is  but  a  weak  and  a 
contemptible  thing  at  the  best  ;  but  much  more 
contemptible,  if  compared  to  an  angel,  and  yet  in- 
finitely and  inconceivably  more  despicable  must  he 
be,  if  compared  to  God.  A  glowworm  signifies  little 
if  compared  but  to  a  candle  ;  but  set  it  before  the 
stars,  consider  it  in  emulation  with  the  sun  and 
the  ruling  lights  of  heaven,  and  what  a  silly  ridicu- 
lous thing  must  it  appear  ! 

While  men  consider  nothing  but  themselves,  they 
may  grow  proud  and  conceited  :  for  little  things 
may  be  valued  by  those  who  never  saw  greater. 
He  that  never  saw  the  day,  may  admire  and  dote 
upon  his  lamp.  But  consideration  and  experience 
of  great  things  reduces  and  degrades  little 
matters  to  their  own  proper  dimensions.  "Those 
that  measure  themselves  by  iliemselves"  (says  the 
apostle)  "are  not  wise."  For  when  we  make  a 
thing  its  own  measure,  it  is  impossible  to  discover 
any  defect  in  it.  But  bring  it  to  another  thing  that 
e.\cels  and  outshines  it,  and  then  we  shall  quickly 
see  how  much  a  tree  is  taller  than  a  shrub,  and  a 
royal  palace  greater  and  nobler  than  a  country 
cottage. 

Men  are  enamoured  with  their  own  reason  ;  but 
let  them  compare  it  with  omniscience,  and  it  is 
nothing.  They  perhaps  value  themselves  upon  their 
dominion  over  these  inferior  things;  but  what  is 
all  their  grandeur  to  the  royalty  and  universal 
empire  of  Providence?  what  is  their  policy  to  the 
wisdom  of  Him  that  governs  the  world  and  "  ciiarges 
the  very  angels  with  folly  ?  "  It  is  impossible  for  a 
man  that  frequently  and  seriously  tliinks  of  God 
to  value  himself.  ^ou.k,  1633-1716. 

(2971.)  Religion,  and  that  alone,  teaches  absolute 
humility  ;  by  which  I  mean  a  sense  ol  our  absolute 
nothingness  in  the  view  of  infinite  greatness  and 
excellence.  That  sense  of  inferiority  which  results 
from  the  comparison  of  men  witii  each  other  is  olten 
an  unwelcome  sentiment  forced  upon  the  mind, 
which  may  rather  embitter  the  temper  than  soiten 
it  :  that  which  devotion  impresses  is  soothing  and 
delightful.  The  devout  man  loves  to  lie  low  at  the 
footstool  of  his  Creator,  because  it  is  then  he  attains 
the  most  lively  perceptions  of  the  Divine  excellence, 
and  the  most  tranquil  confidence  in  the  divine 
lavour.  In  so  august  a  [iresence  he  sees  all  dis- 
tinctions lost,  and  all  teings  reduced  to  the  same 


HUMILITY. 


(    504    ) 


HUMILITY, 


level.  He  looks  at  his  superiors  without  envy,  and 
his  inferiors  without  contempt  :  and  when  from  this 
elevation  he  descends  to  mix  in  society,  the  con- 
viction of  superiority  which  must  in  many  instances 
be  felt  is  a  calm  inference  of  the  understanding,  and 
no  longer  a  busy,  importunate  passion  of  the  heart. 
—Robert  Hall,  1 764-1831. 

(2972.)  Persons  pray  that  they  may  be  humble. 
Here  is  a  big,  strong  man  who,  in  the  morning, 
prays  that  he  may  be  humble  through  the  day  ;  and 
in  order  to  make  it  more  effectual,  while  kneeling 
he  puts  his  head  clear  down  in  his  chair  ;  and  in 
order  to  make  it  still  more  effectual,  he  talks  in  an 
official  voice.  When  his  prayer  is  finished,  he  gets 
up  and  straightens  himself,  and  goes  to  his  store, 
and  storms  about  his  business.  He  is  not  going  to 
see  things  go  to  rack  and  ruin  because  nobody  feels 
responsible.  And  tlie  man  quite  forgets  his  prayer. 
He  leaves  that  for  God  to  take  care  of.  When  he 
comes  home  at  night  he  has  some  mournful  feelings 
about  the  way  in  which  he  has  conducted  himself 
through  the  day.  And  the  next  morning  he  prays 
for  humility  again.  The  experience  of  the  previous 
day  is  repeated.  At  night  his  feelings  are  mellowed 
down  once  more  (for  men  almost  always  have  the 
grace  of  humility  when  they  are  sleepy);  and  so 
he  gets  through  another  night. 

Now,  the  fault  did  not  lie  in  the  fact  that  the 
man  prayed  God  to  make  him  humble.  The  fault 
lay  in  this,  that  he  thought  the  prayer  relieved  him 
from  the  responsibility  of  training  himself — from 
the  necessity  of  the  yoke  and  the  harness.  Men 
pray  for  meekness,  and  yet  when  they  aie  brought 
into  circumstances  which  call  for  the  exercise  of 
meekness  they  forget  their  prayer.         — Beeckcr, 

VII.  DEEPENS  AS  GRACE   INCREASES, 

(2973)  They  who  climb  lofty  mountains,  find  it 
»afest,  tlie  higher  they  ascend,  the  more  to  bow 
and  stoop  with  their  bodies  ;  and  so  does  the  Spirit 
of  Christ  teach  the  saints,  the  higher  they  get  in 
their  victories  over  corruption,  to  bow  lowest  in 
humility.  — Ournall,  1617-1679. 

(2974.)  When  the  corn  is  nearly  ripe  it  bows  the 
head  and  stoops  lower  than  when  it  was  green. 
When  the  people  of  God  are  near  ripe  for  heaven, 
they  grow  more  humble  and  self-denying  than  in 
the  ('ays  of  their  first  profession.  The  longer  a 
saint  grows  in  the  world,  the  better  he  is  still  ac- 
quainted with  his  own  heart  and  his  obligations  to 
God  ;  both  of  which  are  very  humbling  things. 
Paul  had  one  foot  in  heaven  when  he  called  him- 
self the  chiefest  of  sinners  and  least  of  saints. 

A  Cliristian  in  the  progress  of  his  knowledge  and 
grace  is  like  a  vessel  cast  into  the  sea — the  more 
it  fil'-i,  the  deeper  it  sinks.    — flavel,  1630-1691. 

VIII.  ITS  COUNTERFEITS. 

(2975.)  Many  are  humbled  that  are  not  humble; 
many  are  cast  down  that  have  proud  hearts  still,  as 
Pharaoh  had.  — ^tddes,  1577-1635. 

(2976.)  Let  iron  be  broken  into  pieces,  yet  still  it 
remains  hard  :  so,  a  heart  may  be  broken  in  pieces, 
and  yet  remain  hard  and  unhimibled.  But  true 
humility  is,  when  the  soul  is  melted,  so  as  to  run 
into  this  gospel  mould ;  so  as  to  receive  Christ,  and 
walk  ic  Hiu^  iLtskine,  1685-1752. 


IX.  ITS  WISDOM. 

(2977.)  Let  us  acquire  that  height  which  cornel 
by  humility.  Let  us  look  into  the  nature  of  human 
things,  that  we  may  kindle  with  the  longing  desire 
of  the  things  to  come  ;  for  in  no  other  way  is  it 
possible  to  become  humble,  except  by  the  love  of 
what  is  divine,  and  the  contempt  of  what  is  present. 
For  just  as  a  man  on  the  point  of  obtaining  a  king- 
dom, if,  instead  of  that  purple  robe,  one  offers  him 
some  trivial  compliment,  will  count  it  to  be  nothing  ; 
so  shall  we  also  laugh  to  scorn  all  things  present,  if 
we  desire  that  other  sort  of  honour. 

Do  ye  not  see  the  children,  when  in  their  play 
they  make  a  band  of  soldiers,  and  heralds  precede 
them,  and  lictors,  and  a  boy  marches  in  the  midst 
in  the  general's  place,  how  childish  it  all  is  ? 

Just  such  are  all  human  affairs.  Yea,  and  more 
worthless  than  these  :  to-day  they  are,  and  to- 
morrow they  are  not.  Let  us  therefore  be  above 
these  things  ;  and  let  us  not  only  not  desire  them, 
but  even  be  ashamed  if  any  one  hold  them  forth  to 
us.  For  thus  casting  out  the  love  of  these  things, 
we  shall  possess  that  other  love  which  is  Divine, 
and  shall  enjoy  immortal  glory. 

— Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(2978.)  I  will,  in  things  not  weighty,  submit 
freely  ;  the  purest  gold  is  the  most  ductile  ;  it  is 
commonly  a  good  blade  that  bends  well.  If  I 
expect  disadvantage,  or  misdoubt  the  conquest,  I 
think  it  good  wisdom  to  give  in  soonest ;  so  shall  it 
be  more  honour  to  do  that  willingly,  which  with 
stiffness  I  cannot  but  hazard  on  compulsion.  I  had 
rather  be  accounted  too  much  humble  than  esteemed 
a  little  proud  ;  the  reed  is  better  that  bends  and  is 
whole,  than  the  strong  oak  that,  not  bending, 
breaks.  If  I  must  have  one,  give  me  an  incon- 
venience, not  a  mischief  Fellthant,  1668. 

(2979. )  Remember,  therefore,  that  though  thou  be 
a  vessel  of  mercy,  it  i^  the  fountain  that  filleth  thee, 
and  not  thyself.  Thou  canst  scarce  more  dishonour 
thy  qualifications  and  actions,  and  consequently 
thyself,  than  to  say  they  are  thine  own,  and  ori- 
ginally from  thyself.  For  sure  all  that  is  thine, 
and  from  thee,  will  be  like  thee ;  and  therefore 
must  be  weak  and  bad  as  thou  art.  Whenever 
therefore  thou  gloriest  in  thy  graces,  do  it  but  as 
the  beggar  glorieth  in  his  alms,  that  ascribes  all  to 
the  giver  ;  or  as  the  patient  glorieth  in  his  cure,  that 
ascribeth  all  to  God  and  the  physician  ;  or  as  a 
condemned  rebel  doth  glory  in  a  pardon,  which  he 
ascribeth  to  the  mercy  of  his  prince. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

X.  ITS  REWARDS. 

1.  The  Inheritance  of  the  earth  (Matt.  v.  5.) 
(29S0. )  To  be  humble  to  superiors  is   duty;    to 

equals,  is  courtesy  ;  to  inferiors,  is  nobleness ;  and 
to  all,  safety  ;  it  being  a  virtue  that,  for  all  her  low- 
liness, conimandeth  those  souls  it  stoops  to. 

•SVr  T.  More,  1480-1535. 

2.  Pardon. 

(2981.)  Humility  is  a  gracious  herb,  and  allays 
the  wrath  of  God  ;  whereas  pride  provokes  it.  It 
is  recorded  of  an  English  king,  Edward  I.,  that 
being  exceeding  angry  with  a  servant  of  his,  in 
the  sport  of  hawking,  he  threatened  him  sharply. 
The  gentleman  answered.  It  was  well  there  vvas  a 
river  between  them.  Hereat  the  king,  more  in- 
censed, spurred  his   horse    into    the   depth    of  the 


HYPOCRITES. 


f    50s    ) 


ny  .^ocRiTES. 


river,  not  without  extreme  danger  of  his  life,  the 
water  being  deep,  and  the  banks  too  steep  and  hi'_;h 
for  his  ascending.  Yet  at  last  recovering  land,  with 
his  sword  drawn  he  pursues  tlie  servant,  who  rode 
as  fast  from  him.  But  finding  himselftoo  ill-horsed 
to  outride  the  angry  kin^,  he  reined,  lighted,  and 
on  his  knees  exposed  his  neck  to  the  blow  of  the 
king's  sword.  The  king  no  sooner  saw  this  but  he 
put  up  his  sword,  and  would  not  touch  him.  A 
dangerous  water  could  not  withhold  him  from 
violence ;  yet  his  servant's  submission  did  soon 
pacify  him.  Whiles  man  Hies  stubbornly  from  God, 
He  that  rides  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind'  posts 
after  him  with  the  sword  of  vengeance  drawn.  But 
when  dust  and  ashes  humbles  himself,  and  stands 
to  His  mercy,  the  wrath  of  God  is  soon  appeased. 

— Adams,  1653. 

8.  Grace. 

(2982.)  Make  a  valley,  receive  the  rain.  Low 
grounds  are  filltd,  high  grounds  are  dried  up. 
Grace  is  rain.  Why  dost  thou  marvel  then,  if 
"God  resisteth  the  proud,  and  giveth  grace  unto  the 
lowly  "  ?  Augustine,  353-429. 

(2983.)  The  humble  man  is  the  tree  planted  by 
the  rivers  of  water,  that  brings  forth  his  fruit  in  his 
season,  and  whose  leaf  does  not  wither  (Ps.  i.  3). 
tor  where  are  the  rivers  of  water  but  in  the  valleys? 
"Surely  in  the  valleys,"  says  Si.  Bernard:  "for 
■who  does  not  see,"  says  he,  "that  the  torrents  do 
decline  the  steep  places  of  the  hills,  and  divert  to 
the  middle  lowness  of  the  valley?"  "So  truly," 
says  he,  "God  resists  the  proud,  and  gives  grace  to 
the  humble."  He  thrives  and  prospers  and  is  fruit- 
ful in  his  low  but  fat  and  rich  soil,  while  the  proud 
man  on  the  top  of  his  bleak  and  barren  mountain, 
for  want  of  taking  up  or  retaining  this  spiritual 
dew,  dries  up,  hardens,  and  withers.  For  he  is  too 
high  for  the  grace  uf  God,  as  having  no  sense  of  his 
need  of  it,  nor  can  the  Spirit  of  God  delight  to 
dwell  with  him,  who  has  so  much  of  the  spirit  of 
the  devil.  — i\V?r/«j,  1707. 

4.  Power  with  God. 

(2984.)  Humility  wrestleth  with  God,  like  Jacob, 
and  wins  by  yielding  ;  and  the  lower  it  stoops  to 
the  ground,  the  more  advantage  it  gets  to  obtain 
the  blessing.  — Adams,  1653. 

6.  Eternal  glory. 

(2985.)  Humility  is  a  commodity,  for  which  God 
will  exchange  the  crown  of  glory.  Moses,  David, 
Paul  went  thither  with  this  traffic,  1  am  unworthy  ; 
and  Christ  gave  them  for  it  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

— Adams,  1653. 


HYPOCRITES. 

1.  Their  self-seeking. 

(2986.)  Even  as  the  swiftest  hawk,  going  about  to 
seize  the  bird  that  llieth,  as  it  were,  in  the  top  of  the 
air,  -loth  nut,  when  she  first  seeth  her,  fly  directly  to- 
wards her,  but  rather,  with  setting  of  a  compass,  doth 
seem  to  despise  and  to  fly  from  her,  but,  at  the  second 
or  third  flight,  she  goeth  towards  her  with  a  wonder- 
ful force  and  incredible  swiftness,  to  take  her  in 
the  air  and  to  rend  her  in  pieces  :  right  so  do  hy- 
pocrites behave  themselves  ;  for  at  the  firsc  tney 
will  seem  to  thee  not  to  regard,  but  to  contemn  the 
riches  and  promotions  o(  the  world,  but  then  they 
counteileit  a  simplicity,  fowling  for  a  greater  matter 


than  yet  they  see  at  present,  and  reaching  at  some 
higher  dignity  than  the  present  occasion  doth  offer  ; 
but  at  the  second  or  third  flight,  when  everything 
doth  answer  their  expectation,  thou  shalt  perceive 
that  witli  all  speed  and  greediness  they  will  lay  huld 
upon  those  things  which  thou  thoughtest  they  had 
contemned.  — Caivdray,  i6ot>. 

(2987.)  As  rebels  make  their  proclamations  in 
the  name  of  the  king,  and  pirates  intending  to  rob 
merchants  hang  out  the  flags  of  other  nations,  both 
to  scandal  them  and  to  conceal  themselves;  so  do 
hypocrites  wear  Christian  colours  that  they  may  be 
the  devil's  cozeners.  — Adams,  1653. 

(2988.)  Cnidius,  a  skilful  architect,  building  a 
watch-tower  for  the  kiiiL;  of  Egypt  (to  discover  the 
dangerous  rocks  by  night  to  the  mariners),  caused 
his  own  name  to  be  engraven  upon  a  stone  in  the 
wall  in  great  letters,  and  afterwards  covered  it  with 
lime  and  mortar,  and  upon  the  outside  of  that  wrote 
the  name  of  the  king  of  Egypt  in  golden  letters,  as 
pretending  that  all  was  done  for  his  lionour  and 
glory;  but  herein  v\as  his  cunning,  he  very  well 
knew  that  the  dashing  of  the  water  would  in  a  little 
time  consume  the  plastering  (as  it  did),  and  then  his 
name  and  memory  should  abide  to  after  generations. 
Thus  there  are  many  in  this  world,  who  pretend  to 
seek  only  the  glory  of  God,  the  good  of  His  Church, 
and  the  happiness  of  the  state  ;  but  if  there  were  a 
window  to  look  into  their  hearts,  we  should  find 
nothing  there  written  but  self-seeking. 

— Spencer,  1658. 

(2989.)  The  hypocrite  sets  his  watch,  not  by  the 
sun,  that  is,  the  Bible,  but  by  the  town  chick  ; 
what  most  do,  that  he  will  do.  Vox  populi  in  his 
vox  Dei.  — Gurnall,  ibij-iSjg. 

2.  Their  zeal  for  forms  and  ceremonies. 

(2990.)  Fruit-trees  that  bring  forth  the  fairest 
and  most  beautiful  blossoms,  leaves,  and  sho'>ts, 
usually  bring  forth  the  fewest  and  least  fruits ; 
because  where  nature  is  vigorously  pressing  to  do 
one  work  (spending  its  strength  there),  it  is  at  the 
same  time  weak  about  other  works  ;  but  distinct 
and  several  works  of  nature,  in  moderate  degree, 
are  all  promoted  at  the  same  time. 

This  is  another  similitude,  &c.,  whence  we  learn 
that  generally  those  persons  who  are  excessive,  and 
most  curious  about  the  forms  of  duties,  have  least  of 
the  power  of  godliness. 

The  Pharisees  were  excessively  careful  about  the 
outside  of  God's  worship  :  in  preaching,  praying, 
fasting,  giving  alms,  &c.  But  where  was  sincerity 
all  this  while?  They  had  the  form,  but  wanted  the 
power  of  godliness.  These  were  but  leaves,  buds 
or  blossoms,  but  no  fruits  ;  they  were  not  profitable 
to  them  as  to  eternal  advantages.  "  Except  your 
righteousness  exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  ye  shall  in  no  case  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven." 

So  It  was  among  us  of  late  years  :  bowing  at  tne 
name  of  Jesus  and  at  the  communion  table,  surplice, 
common  prayer,  <S;c.  These  and  such  like  were 
pressed  with  all  eagerness  ami  strictness.  The 
body  of  religion  was  large  and  monstious,  but  with- 
out a  soul,  or,  if  any,  it  was  lean  and  feeble.  These 
kind  of  persons  are  like  the  Indian  fig-tree  that 
Pliny  speaks  of,  whirh  had  leaves  as  broad  as  tar* 
gets,  but  fruits  no  bigger  than  a  bean. 


HYPOCRITES. 


(    So6    ) 


HYPOCRITES. 


This  is  a  foul  fault  among  us  at  this  day  ;  some 
men  stand  more  about  the  forms  of  worsliip  than 
about  the  power  of  it  ;  they  look  so  much  after  the 
way,  manner,  and  circumstances,  that  tliey  ahiiost 
lose  the  substance  ;  things  which  are  but  as  husks, 
or  shells  to  the  kernels,  or  as  leaves  in  respect  of 
fruits. 

Some  others  labour  more  for  gifts  than  for  graces, 
for  human  learning  than  for  holiness  ;  all  these  are 
guilty  of  the  same  folly,  as  those  who  take  more 
caie  about  the  shape  and  fashion  of  the  garment, 
than  the  health  ami  soundness  of  the  body  ;  or  (to 
use  the  metaphor  in  hand),  they  bring  forth  leaves 
instead  of  fruits,  and  so  are  unprofitable  trees, 
liable  to  God's  displeasure  and  cutting  down  every 
moment.  — Austen,  1656. 

(2991.)  They  are  set  upon  excess  of  ceremonies, 
because  they  are  defective  in  the  vital  parts,  and 
should  have  no  religion  if  they  had  not  this/  All 
sober  Christians  aie  friends  to  outward  decency  and 
order  ;  but  it  is  the  empty  self-deceiver  that  is  most 
for  the  unwarrantable  in\enticns  of  man,  and 
useth  the  worship  of  God  but  as  a  mask  or  puppet- 
play,  where  there  is  great  doings,  with  little  life, 
and  to  little  purpose.  The  cliastest  woman  will 
wash  her  face  ;  but  it  is  the  harlot,  or  wanton,  or 
deformed,  that  will  paint  it.  The  soberest  and  the 
comeliest  will  avoid  a  nasty  or  ridiculous  habit, 
which  may  make  them  seem  uncomely  where  they 
are  not;  but  a  curious  dress,  and' excessive  care, 
doth  signify  a  deformed  body  or  a  filthy  skin,  or, 
which  is  worse,  an  empty  soul,  that  hath  need  o( 
such  a  covering.  Consciousness  of  such  greater 
want  doth  cause  them  to  seek  these  poor  supplies. 
The  gaudiness  of  men's  religion  is  not  the  best  sign 
that  it  is  sincere.  Simplicity  is  the  ordinary  attendant 
of  sincerity.  It  hath  long  been  a  proverb,  "  The 
more  ceremony,  the  less  substance ;  and  the  more 
compliment,  the  more  craft." 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2992.)  In  the  carnal  religion  of  the  hypocrite, 
the  outside,  which  should  be  the  ornament  and 
attendant  of  the  inward  spiritual  part,  hath  got  the 
mastery,  and  is  used  in  an  enmity  against  the  more 
noble  part  which  it  should  serve  ;  and  much  more 
are  his  human  inventions  and  mixtures  thus  destruc- 
tively employed.  His  bellows  do  but  blow  out  the 
candle,  under  pretence  of  kindling  the  fire.  He  sets 
the  bo-dy  against  the  soul,  and  sometimes  the  clothing 
against  both.  He  useth  forms  to  the  destruction  of 
knowledge,  and  quenching  of  all  seriousness  and 
fervour  of  affection.  By  preaching,  he  destroyeth 
preaching,  and  prayeth  till  prayer  is  become  no 
prayer,  but  the  image  or  carcass  of  prayer  at  tlie 
best.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

3.  Their  love  of  publicity. 

(2993.)  Though  the  total  neglect  of  secret  duties 
in  religion  speaks  a  person  to  be  a  hypocrite,  yet 
tiie  performance  of  duties  in  secret  will  not  demon- 
strate thee  a  sincere  person  ;  hypocrisy  is,  in  this, 
like  the  frogs  brought  on  h-gypt — no  place  was  free 
from  them,  no  not  their  bed-chambers  ;  they  crejU 
into  their  mo^t  inward  rooms.  And  so  doih  hypo- 
crisy into  chamber  duties,  as  well  as  public  ;  indeed, 
though  the  places  be  secret  where  such  duties  are 
performed,  yet  the  matter  may  be  so  handled,  and 
is  by  some  hypocrites,  that  they  are  not  secret  in 
their  closets  ;  like  the  hen  who  goes  into  a  secret 


place  to  lay  her  tgg,  but  by  her  cackling  tells  all 
the  house  where  she  is,  and  what  she  is  doing. 

Gurna/l,  161 7-1679. 

(2994.)  "  Thou  shalt  not  be  as  the  hypocrites,  for 
they  love  to  pray  standing  in  the  synagogues  and  in 
the  corners  of  the  street,  that  they  may  be  seen  of 
men."  That  they  may  be  seen  of  men  !  He  rings 
the  changes  on  that — exposing  the  pride  and  vanity 
that  lay  at  the  root  of  their  religion.  Loud,  ostenta- 
tious, and  unprofitable,  it  was  like  the  brawling, 
noisy,  foaming,  frothy  torrent,  which,  with  a  rock 
for  its  bed  and  barrenness  on  its  banks,  makes  itself 
seen  and  heard.  How  different  genuine,  gracious 
piety!  Aflluent  in  blessings  but  retiring  from 
observation,  it  has  its  symbol  in  the  stream  that 
pursues  a  silent  course,  and,  flashing  out  in  the 
light  of  day  but  here  and  there,  but  now  and  then, 
is  not  known  but  by  the  good  it  does — the  flowers 
that  bloom  on  its  banks,  and  the  evergreen  verdure 
which  it  gives  to  the  pastures  through  which  it  winds 
on  its  quiet  path.  Guthrie. 

4.  Often  show  fairer  than  real  Christians. 

(2995.)  Their  worship  is  like  to  counterfeit  money, 
which  is  gilded  outwardly,  but  within  i--  nothing  but 
brass,  or  suchlike  base  stufl",  so  that  all  is  not  gold 
that  glitters  ;  or  like  the  apples  which  grow  at  the 
Dead  Sea  (where  sometime  .Sodom  and  Gomorrah 
stood),  wliich  are  fair  in  colour,  beautiful  in  show, 
but  when  you  come  to  touch  them,  or  to  handle 
them,  they  turn  to  dust  and  cast  out  a  filthy  savour, 
more  unpleasant  to  the  nostrils  than  they  were 
pleasant  before  to  the  eyes.  Thus  it  is  with  hypo- 
crites;  they  appear  beautiful  before  men,  they  love 
to  be  well  tliought  of  by  them,  and  have  many  times 
more  glorious  shows  than  others  that  are  more 
sound  within,  because  they  study  nothing  else  but 
how  to  g'jt  the  applause  and  praise  of  the  world. 
— Attersol,  161 8. 

(2996.)  "You  are  very  dull-looking  and  worn," 
said  the  New  Coin  to  an  Old  Shilling, — surveying 
its  ownself  with  much  satisfaction. 

"  When  you  have  had  experience  of  the  world  as 
I  have,  you  will  not  apjjear  so  fresh  and  bright 
perhaps  as  now.  You  have  all  your  trials  to  come, 
friend  ;  and  I  only  wish  that  you  may  wear  well 
unto  the  end,"  said  the  Old  Shilling. 

"  You  have  had  many  rough  rubs  in  your  time, 
judging  from  your  appearance,"  observed  the  New 
Coin  sarcastically. 

"True,"  replied  the  Old  Shilling. 

"Why,  indeed,  one  needs  to  look  narrowly,  in 
order  to  see  whether  you  are  really  a  shilling  at  all  I 
What  a  contrast  I  am  to  your  smoothness,  with 
my  lei;ible  inscription  and  prominent  impression," 
remarked  the  New  Coin. 

"All  with  honest  service,  though,  in  my  own 
case,  as  I  am  thankiul  to  say,"  answered  the  Old 
Shilling,  with  humility  notwithstanding.  "Appear- 
ances are  not  always  to  be  depended  upon,  and  'All 
is  not  gold  that  glitters.'  But,  however  that  may 
be,  this  is  a  fact,  that  all  currency  must  be  subjected 
to  trial  ;  whilst  sterling  silver  will  always  bear  the 
test  and  be  never  rejected  ;  for,  when  through  wear 
and  tear  no  longer  fit  for  its  labour,  the  Mint  will 
accept  and  receive  it  again." 

The  New  Coin  was  shortly  afterwards  tested  in 
company  with  the  Old  Shilling  ;  and  whilst  the 
latter    was  honourably  accepted  as  a  true  coin  of 


HYPOCRITES. 


(  sor  ) 


HYP  OCR  JTES. 


the  realm,  the  other  was  ignominously  broken  up 
and  (Icstroye:!  ;  having  been  discovered  to  be  base 
metal — a  vile  counterfeit  ! 

A  clay  is  coining  when  all  men  will  be  *'  weighed 
in  the  balances,"  and  when  only  the  Just  will  pass 
current.  13ul  the  character  of  professors  is  now 
uiidert;oing  examination.  God's  providence  often 
sifts  oui  hypocrites  Ironi  among  genuine  believers  ; 
and,  in  tl'e  solemn  language  of  the  prophet,  "  Re- 
piobate  silver  shall  men  call  them,  because  the 
Lord  hath  rejected  them."  — Bowden. 

6.  Tlie  contrast  between  what  they  seem  and 
are. 

(2997.)  As  a  thick  wood,  that  giveth  great  shadow, 
doth  delight  the  eyes  of  the  beholder^  greatly  with 
the  variety  of  flourishing  trees  and  pleasant  plants, 
so  that  it  seemeih  to  be  ordained  only  for  pleasure's 
sake,  and  yet  within  is  full  of  poisonful  serpents, 
ravening  wolves,  and  other  vvild  beasts  :  even  so  a 
hyjiocrite,  when  outwardly  he  seemeth  holy  and  to 
be  well-furnished  with  all  sorts  of  virtues,  doth 
please  well  the  eyes  of  his  beholders  ;  but  within 
liim  there  lurketli  pride,  covelousness,  envy,  and 
all  manner  of  wickednesses,  like  wild  and  cruel 
beasts  wandering  in  the  wood  of  his  heart. 

—  Cawdiay,  1609. 

(2998.)  Like  as  apple-trees,  which,  in  the  spring- 
time, will  be  full  ol  goodly  blossoms,  and  will  give 
a  promise  of  much  fruit,  but  when  the  fruit  is  looked 
for,  and  shoukl  be  gathered,  there  is  none  to  be  had 
— they  were  but  bare  leaves  and  idle  blossoms  :  such 
are  hypocrites,  who  will  lift  up  their  hands,  eyes,  and 
voices  towards  heaven  and  God,  and  with  such  godly 
green  leaves  will  make  a  fair  flourish  and  a  beautiful 
show  ;  but  their  hearts  are  surely  set  upon  earthly 
and  transitory  things,  and  are  as  far  from  God  as 
heaven  and  earth  are  distant  one  from  another. 

—  Ca-ivdray,  1 609. 

(2999.)  Hypocrites  are  like  pictures  on  canvas, 
they  show  fairest  at  farthest.  A  hypocrite's  pro- 
fession is  in  folio,  but  his  sincerity  is  so  abridged 
that  it  is  contained  in  decimo-sexto,  nothing  in  the 
world  to  speak  of.  A  hypocrite  is  like  the  Sicilian 
Etna,  llaming  at  the  mouth  when  it  haih  snow  at 
the  foot  :  their  mouths  talk  hotly,  but  their  feet 
walk  coldly.  The  nightingale  hath  a  sweet  voice, 
but  a  lean  carcass  ;  a  voice,  and  nothing  else  but  a 
voice  :  and  so  have  all  hypocrites. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(3000.)  They  that  seem  best  to  the  world,  are 
often  the  worst  to  God  ;  they  that  are  best  to  God, 
seem  worst  to  the  world.  When  the  moon  is  lightest 
to  the  earth,  she  is  darkest  to  heaven  ;  when  she  is 
lightest  to  heaven,  she  is  darkest  to  the  earth.  So 
often  men  most  glorious  to  the  world  are  obscurest 
to  the  divine  approbation  ;  others,  obscure  to  the 
world's  acknowledgment,  are  princijially  respected 
in  God's  favour.  — Adatns,  1653. 

(3001.)  Wicked  men  are  like  the  apples  of  Sodom, 
seemingly  fair  but  nothing  but  ashes  within.  The 
best  of  God's  servants  are  like  sound  apples,  lying 
in  a  ilusiy  loft  (living  in  a  wicked  world),  gathering 
much  dust  about  them,  so  that  they  must  be  rubbed 
or  pared  before  ihey  can  be  eaten.  Such,  notwith- 
standing, are  sincere. 

—Fuller,  1 608- 1 66 1. 

(3002.)  Their  religion  is  only  in  show  and  outside, 


as  apples  may  be  fair  to  see  in  the  skin,  but  rotten 
at  the  core.  — A/antoti,  1620-1667. 

(3003.)  It  is  always  winter  with  the  hypocrite  in 
his  formal  lifeless  services,  and  yet  sometime  his  leal 
doth  never  fall.  He  is  like  the  box-tree  that  knows 
no  fruit,  and  yet  its  leaves  are  always  green. 

— Baxter,  161 5- 1 691. 

(3004.)  The  shops  in  the  square  of  San  Marco 
were  all  religiously  closed,  for  the  day  was  a  high 
festival.  We  were  much  di^apiiointed,  for  it  was  our 
last  day,  and  we  desired  to  take  away  with  ns  some 
souvenirs  of  lovely  Venice;  but  our  regret  soon 
vanished,  for  on  looking  at  the  shop  we  meant  to 
patronise,  we  readily  discovered  signs  of  traffic 
within.  We  stepped  to  the  side  door,  and  found 
when  one  or  two  other  customers  had  been  served, 
that  we  might  purchase  to  our  heart's  content,  saint 
or  no  saint.  After  this  fashion  too  many  keep  the 
laws  oT  God  to  the  eye,  but  violate  them  in  the 
heart.  The  shutters  are  up  as  if  the  man  no  more 
dealt  with  sin  and  Satan  ;  but  a  brisk  commerce  is 
going  on  behind  the  scenes.  From  such  deceit 
may  the  Spirit  of  Truth  preserve  us. 

— Spurgeon, 

(3005.)  In  the  pursuit  of  pastoral  duty,  I  stood  a 
little  while  ago  in  a  cheesemonger's  slupp,  and  being 
in  a  fidgety  humour,  and  having  a  stick  in  my  hand, 
I  did  what  most  Englishmen  are  sure  to  do,  1  was 
not  content  with  seeing,  but  must  needs  touch  as 
well.  My  stick  came  gently  upon  a  Ime  cheese  in 
the  window,  and  to  my  surprise  a  most  metallic 
sound  emanated  from  it.  The  sound  was  rather 
hollow,  or  one  might  have  surmised  that  all  the 
tasteholes  had  been  filled  up  with  sovereigns,  and 
thus  the  cheese  had  been  greatly  enriched,  and  the 
merchant  had  been  his  own  banker.  There  was, 
however,  a  sort  of  crockery  jingle  in  the  sound  like 
the  ring  of  a  huge  bread  or  milk  pan,  such  as  our 
country  friends  use  so  abundantly  ;  and  I  came  to 
the  very  correct  conclusion  that  1  had  found  a  very 
well  got-up  hypocrite  in  the  shop  window.  Mark, 
from  this  time,  when  I  pass  by,  1  mentally  whisper, 
"  Tottery  ;"  and  the  shams  may  even  be  exchanged 
for  realities,  but  I  shall  be  long  in  believing  it.  In  my 
mind  the  large  stock  has  dissolved  into  potsherds, 
and  the  fine  show  in  the  window  only  suggests  the 
potter's  vessel.  The  homely  illustration  is  simply 
introduced  because  we  find  people  of  this  sort  in 
our  churches,  looking  extremely  like  what  they 
should  be,  yet  having  no  substance  in  them,  so  that 
if,  accidentally,  one  happens  to  tap  them  some- 
where or  other  with  sudden  temptation  or  stern 
duty,  the  leaked  earth  gives  forth  its  own  ring,  and 
the  jiretender  is  esteemed  no  longer.  — Spurgeon. 

6.  Their  knowledge  is  comfortless; 

(3006.)  The  knowledge  of  the  hypocrite  brings 
small  joy  and  comfort  with  it.  and  though  it  exceed 
in  measure,  yet  it  cheers  not  the  heart  like  the  least 
knowledge  of  a  sound  Christian  ;  even  as  the  know- 
le<lge  of  the  lawyer  in  the  evidences  of  a  man's  lands 
may  be  greater  than  the  owner's,  but  yet  he  can- 
not read  them  with  like  comfort,  because  he  has 
no  right  to  them.  — Dozvitaiiie,  1644. 

7.  Their  religion  Is  only  a  screen. 

(3CHD7.)  The  use  of  the  hypocrite's  religicn  is  to 
be  a  screen  betwixt  him  and  the  flames  of  wrath, 
that  would  scorch  him   too  soon,  if  he  were   of  no 


HYPOCRITES. 


(    508    ) 


HYPOCRITES. 


religion  :  and  to  be  to  him  as  a  tent  or  a  penthouse 
to  keep  off  the  storms  that  would  fall  upon  him, 
while  he  is  trading  for  the  world,  and  working  for 
the  flesh.  His  religion  is  but  the  sheath  of  his 
guilty  conscience,  to  keep  it  from  wounding  him, 
and  cutting  his  fingers,  while  they  are  busy  in  the 
brutish  service  of  his  lusts.  It  is  but  a  glove  to  save 
his  skin,  when  he  hath  to  do  with  the  nettles  and 
thorns  of  the  threatenings  of  God,  and  the  thoughts 
of  vengeance,  that  else  would  reach  his  guilty  soul. 
It  is  but  as  his  upper  garment,  to  save  him  from  a 
storm,  and  then  to  be  laid  by  as  an  unnecessary 
burden,  when  he  is  at  home.  The  hypocrite's  re- 
ligion is  but  as  his  shoe  ;  he  can  tread  it  in  the 
dirt,  so  it  will  but  save  his  foot  from  galling.  As  a 
man  that  hath  an  unquiet  scolding  wife  is  fain  to 
speak  her  fair  by  flatteries,  lest  he  should  have  no 
rest  at  home  ;  or  as  a  thief  is  fain  to  cast  a  crust 
to  the  dog  that  barketh  at  him,  to  stop  his  mouth  ; 
so  is  an  ungodly,  sensual  person  fain  to  flatrer  his 
conscience  with  some  kind  of  devotion  and  seem- 
ing righteousness  that  may  deceive  him  into  a 
belief  that  he  is  a  child  of  God.  Religion  is  the 
sovereign  in  a  gracious  soul,  and  the  master  in 
an  upright  conscience,  and  ruleth  above  all  worldly 
interests.  But  with  the  unregenerate,  it  is  but 
an  underling  and  servant  that  must  do  no  more 
than  the  flesh  and  the  world  will  give  consent 
to,  and  is  regarded  no  further  than  for  mere 
necessity  ;  and  when  it  hath  done  the  work  which 
the  hypocrite  appointed  it,  it  is  dismissed  and 
turned  out  of  doors.  God  is  acknowledged  and  con- 
fessed by  the  hypocrite,  but  not  as  God.  Christ  is 
oelieved  and  accepted,  but  not  as  Christ,  but  as  an 
underling  to  the  world,  and  a  journeyman  to  do 
some  job  of  work  for  a  distressed,  wrangling  con- 
science ;  or  as  an  unwelcome  physician  to  give  them 
a  vomit  when  they  have  taken  some  extraordinary 
surfeit  of  sensual  delight :  when  they  have  fallen 
into  great  atTliction,  or  into  any  foul,  disgraceful  sin, 
then,  perhaps  they  take  up  their  prayer-books,  or 
call  upon  Christ,  and  seem  devout  and  very  peni- 
tent. But  their  piety  is  blown  over  with  the  storm. 
The  effect  ceaseth  with  the  cause.  It  was  not  the 
love  of  God,  or  of  His  holy  ways  and  service,  that 
set  them  upon  their  devotions,  but  some  tempest  of 
adversity,  or  shipwreck  of  their  estates,  or  friends, 
or  consciences  ;  and  when  the  winds  are  laid,  and 
the  waves  are  still,  their  devotions  cease  with  their 
danger.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

8.  Their  Inconstancy  In  prayer. 

(3008.)  A  hypocrite.  Job  saith,  will  not  pray 
always  ;  he  will  nut  always  call  upon  God.  Possibly 
he  may  sometimes  cry  out,  as  a  scholar  under  the 
rod,  or  a  malefactor  upon  the  rack,  for  deliverance 
out  of  some  aflliction  ;  but  when  God  openeth  His 
hand,  and  besloweth  the  mercy,  his  mouth  is  shut, 
and  his  heart  too,  that  you  shall  hear  but  little 
more  of  this  duty. 

If  he  pray  on  his  sickbed,  and  God  raise  him  up, 
he  leaves  his  prayers  sick  a-bed  behind  him.  His 
prayer  was  but  a  messenger  sent  about  some  parti- 
cular errand;  when  that  is  done,  the  messenger 
returneth.  As  that  story  of  the  friar  speakelh, 
how,  when  he  was  a  poor  friar,  he  went  ever  sadly 
casting  his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  but  being  abbot, 
he  went  merrily,  looking  upward.  One  of  his  com- 
panions askea  him  the  rea-on  of  that  alteration  :  he 
answered,  that  he  was  a  common  friar,  he  went 
dejected  by  looking  downward  for  the  keys  of  the 


abbey,    which   now   he   had    found,  and   left   thxt 
posture. 

So  when  a  hy]50crite  hath  the  temporal  gooJ 
thing  he  desireth — tor  that  usually  is  most  desired 
by  him — he  hath  his  ends,  and  his  prayers  an  end 
too.  — Swmnocky  1673. 

9.  Their  folly  and  misery. 

(3009.)  As  it  availeth  a  man  nothing  at  all,  to 
the  relief  of  his  poverty,  to  have  false  coin  in  his 
purse  ;  it  must  be  good  current  money,  otherwise  it 
doth  the  more  endanger  himself,  and  openeth  a  gap 
to  his  utter  destruction  :  even  so  a  fair  tongue  with 
a  foul  heart  is  false  cuin  ;  it  will  help  no  man  if  he 
say  he  hateth  sin,  and  yet  loveth  it  in  his  heart ;  for 
in  so  doing  he  condemneth  himself,  notwithstanding 
how  many  and  how  good  prayeis  he  may  make. 
—  Cawdray,  1609. 

(3010.)  As  a  man  can  have  very  small  comfort 
to  be  thought  by  the  world  to  be  rich  because 
he  hath  a  shop  full  of  wares  and  driveth  a  great 
trade,  when,  in  the  meantime,  he  Knows,  poor 
man,  that  he  oweth  much  more  than  he  is  worth; 
or  because  he  maketh  a  counterfeit  show  of  rich 
wares,  whereas  he  hath  nothing  but  empty  boxes 
with  false  inscriptions,  or  but  pieces  of  wood  and 
brickbats  made  up  in  paper  mstead  of  silks  or  other 
costly  wares  :  so  is  it  with  all  those  that  seem  to  be 
religious,  that  make  a  goodly  show  of  godliness, 
yet,  in  the  meantime,  are  very  bankrupts  in  grace, 
and  like  one  of  Solomon's  fools  (Frov.  xiii.  7),  that 
boast  themselves  of  great  riches,  when  they  are, 
indeed,  exceeding  poor.  But  what  get  they  by  it? 
What  comfort  reap  they  by  it  ?  None  at  all ;  their 
consciences  bearing  them  witness  that  they  are 
none  such  as  the  world  takes  them  to  be. 

— Downame,  1 642. 

(301 1.)  If  thou  hast  an  angel's  tongue  and  a 
devil's  heart,  thou  art  no  better  than  a  post  in  the 
cross-way,  that  rots  itself  to  direct  others ;  or  a 
torch  that,  having  pleasured  others  with  the  light, 
goes  forth  itself  in  smoke  and  stench. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(3012.)  The  Jews  covered  Christ's  face,  and  then 
buffeted  Him.  So  does  the  hypocrite  ;  he  Hrst  says 
in  his  heart,  God  sees  not,  and  then  makes  bold  to 
sin  against  Him.  He  ought  to  say  with  Augustine, 
"  I  may  hide  Thee  from  myseli,  but  not  myself  from 
Thee."  — Guniall,  1617-1679. 

(3013.)  As  a  merchant  in  a  storm  is  loth  to  cast  his 
goods  into  the  sea,  and  therefore  hopes  he  may  save 
himself  and  them,  till  he  and  they  are  drowijed 
together  ;  or  as  a  patient  that  abhors  his  physic,  or 
loves  some  forbidden  thing  too  well,  is  hoping  still 
that  he  may  escape,  though  he  use  the  thing  he 
loves,  and  forbear  the  medicine  which  he  loathes 
till  he  be  past  remedy,  and  he  consents  too  late  ;  so 
is  it  often  with  the  self-deceiving  hypocrite  :  he 
loves  not  this  strict,  and  holy,  and  heavenly,  and 
self-denying  life,  and  therefore  he  will  hope  that 
God  will  save  him  without  it,  as  long  as  he  is 
religious  in  a  way  that  he  accounts  more  wise,  and 
safe,  and  moderate,  and  comely,  and  suited  to  the 
nature  and  infirmity  of  man.  These  are  his  hopes, 
and  to  deceive  his  heart,  by  maintaining  these,  it  it 
that  he  is  religious,  till  either  grace  convert,  ox 
justice  apprehend  him,  and  his  hopes  and  he  arc 
swallowed  up  by  convincing  flames  and  utter  des« 
peration.  — Baxter^  1 615-1691. 


HYPOCRITES. 


(    509    ) 


HYPOCRITES. 


(3014.)  A  friend  had  fitted  two  glasses  into  a 
little  ivory  tube  in  such  a  way  that  any  small  object, 
like  a  midge  or  other  insect,  when  put  into  it,  and 
viewed  through  the  smaller  and  upper  glass,  seemed 
of  enormous  magnitude,  with  all  its  parts,  however 
diminutive,  distinctly  visible.  If,  however,  the 
tube  was  reversed,  and  the  olijects  contemplated 
through  the  larger  glass,  they  then  appeared  to 
shrink  below  the  usual  size.  Ciotthold  looked  upon 
the  contrivance  with  no  ordinary  pleasure,  and 
said  :  I  know  not  what  better  name  to  give  this 
instrument  than  the  magnifier.  In  my  opinion, 
however,  the  hearts  of  the  proud  and  of  the  hypo- 
critical are  of  the  same  construction.  When  they 
contem[)late  what  is  their  own — their  virtues  and 
talents — tliey  see  through  a  glass  which  self-love 
has  so  arilully  prepared,  that  all  seems  of  va>t 
dimensions,  and  they  imagine  that  they  have  good 
reason  to  boast  and  congratulate  themselves  upon 
their  gifts.  If,  however,  they  have  occasion  to  look 
at  their  neighbour  and  his  good  points,  they  turn 
the  instrument  upside  down,  and  then  all  seems 
small  and  common-place.  In  like  manner,  their 
own  faults  and  vices  they  observe  through  the 
diminishing  gla>s,  and  reckon  them  very  inconsider- 
able ;  while  they  contemplate  their  neighbour's  Irom 
the  opposite  side,  and  so  convert  a  midge  into  an 
elephant.  The  greatest  of  all  delusions  in  the 
world  is  that  which  man  voluntarily  practises  upon 
himself,  and  which  beirays  him  with  his  eyes  open, 
into  pride,  self-esteem,  and  contem|>t  of  others. 
You  will  own  that  the  heart  of  the  Pharisee,  who 
looked  upon  himself  as  a  mighty  saint,  and  upon 
the  Publican  as  a  brand  lit  for  the  burning,  was  of 
this  description.  That  Pharisee,  however,  has  left 
behind  him  a  numerous  oflspring,  and  spread  his 
line  over  the  whole  earth.  In  fact,  I  do  not 
believe  there  exists  a  man  who  has  not  sometimes 
used  such  an  instrument  in  the  way  we  have 
described.  — Scriver,  1629- 1693. 

(3015.)  To  pretend  holiness  when  there  is  none, 
is  a  vain  thing.  What  were  the  foolish  virgins  be'ier 
for  their  blazing  lamps,  wlun  they  wanted  oil  ? 
What  is  the  lamp  of  profession  without  the  oil  of 
saving  grace?  \Vhat  comfort  will  a  show  of  holi- 
ness yield  at  last?  Will  painted  gold  enrich? 
Painted  wine  refresh  him  that  is  thirsty?  Will 
painteil  holiness  be  a  cordial  at  the  hour  of  death  ? 
A  pretence  of  sanctification  is  not  to  be  rested  in. 
Many  ships  that  have  had  the  name  of  the  Hope, 
the  Safeguard,  the  Triumph,  yet  have  been  cast 
away  upon  the  rocks ;  so  many  who  have  had  the 
name  of  saintship,  have  been  cast  into  hell. 

—  Watson,  1696, 

10.  Their  craft. 

(3016.)  Experience  showeth  that  Irish  and 
Cornish  stones,  aiul  many  other  false  gems,  have 
such  a  lustre  in  them,  and  so  sparkle  like  true 
jewels,  that  a  cunning  lapidary,  if  he  be  not  careful, 
may  be  cheated  with  them.  Such  are  the  enlight- 
ening gtaces  which  shine  in  hyi)0crites:  they  so 
nearly  resemble  the  true  sanctifying  and  saving 
graces  of  the  elect,  that  the  eye  of  spiritual  wisdom 
itself  may  mistake  them  if  it  be  not  single  and 
look  narrowly  into  them.       — Featly,  15S2-1644. 

11.  The  certainty  of  their  ultimate  exposure. 
(3017.)  Counterfeit   diamonds   may  sparkle   and 

glitter,  and  make  a  great  show  for  some  time,   but 
tlieir  lustre  will  not  last  long  ;  and  experience  shows 


that  an  apple,  if  it  be  rotten  at  the  core,  though  it 
have  a  fair  and  shining  outside,  yet  rottenness  will 
not  stay  long,  but  will  taint  the  outside  also.  It  is 
the  nature  of  things  unsound  that  the  corruption 
stays  not  where  it  began,  but  corrupteth  more  and 
more  till  all  be  alike.  Thus  it  is  that  sincerity  tells 
the  Christian,  "nothing  counterfeit  will  last  long," 
and  that  man  that  hath  a  rotten  heart  towards  God, 
his  want  of  sincerity  will  in  time  be  discovered,  and 
his  outside  be  made  as  rotten  as  his  insitle.  P'laud 
and  guile  cannot  go  long  unspied,  dissembling  will 
not  always  be  dissembled,  and  hypocrisy  will  dis- 
cover itself  in  the  end.  — Bond,  1646. 

(3018.)  Hypocrites  labour  to  seem  saints,  not  to 
be  so  ;  but  the  holy  labour  to  be,  more  than  to  seem, 
saints.  The  kite  may  fly  aloft,  but  her  eye  and 
mind  is  to  the  earth  :  she  seems  to  be  a  gallant  bird 
at  her  pitch,  till  she  falls  down  upon  a  carrion.  Oh 
how  the  dissembling  zealot  makes  a  show  to  honour 
Christ  with  his  lolty  profession,  as  if  he  were  alto- 
gether a  man  of  heaven  :  tarry  but  a  little,  throw 
the  bait  of  glory  in  his  way,  and. he  will  stoop  to  a 
carrion,  and  be  taken  with  the  pride  of  his  own 
commendation.  — Adams,  1653. 

(3019.)  Remember  that  a  vessel  of  true  gold  will 
wear  brighter  and  brighter  to  the  last,  vhen  a  cup 
which  is  only  gilt  will  grow  paler  and  paler  till  all 
the  gilt  be  off.  — Sivinnock,  1673. 

(3020.)  Hypocrites  are  certain  to  miscarry  at 
last  ;  so  true  is  that  proverb,  "  Frost  and  fraud  have 
dirty  ends." 

The  Christian,  like  a  star  in  the  heavens,  wades 
through  the  cloud  that  for  a  time  hides  his  comfort  ; 
but  the  hypocrite,  like  a  meteor  in  the  air,  blazeth 
for  a  while,  and  then  drojis  into  some  ditch  where 
he  is  quenclied.  "The  light  of  the  righteous  re- 
joicelh,  but  the  lamp  of  the  wicked  is  put  out." 

Hypocrites  are  like  tops,  that  go  no  longer  than 
they  are  whipped  ;  but  the  sincere  soul  is  ever  ready  ; 
it  doth  not  want  a  will,  but  only  skill  and  strength 
to  act.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3021.)  God  taught  man  to  make  coats  to  cover 
his  naked  body,  but  the  devil  taught  him  to  weave 
deceit  to  cover  his  naked  soul  ;  yet  the  more  subtile 
thou  art  in  concealing  thy  sin,  the  more  egre- 
giously  thou  playest  the  fool.  None  so  shamed  aa 
the  liar  when  found  out,  and  thou  art  sure  to  be, 
—  Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3022.)  There  is  no  more  difference  betwixt  an 
hypocrite  and  an  apostate,  than  betwixt  a  green  apple 
and  a  ripe  one  :  come  awhile  hence,  and  you  will  see 
him  lall  rotten-ripe  from  his  profession.  Judas  a  close 
hypocrite,  how  soon  an  open  traitor?  And  as  fruit 
ripens  sooner  or  later,  as  the  heat  of  the  year 
proves,  so  doth  hypocrisy,  as  the  temptation  is 
strong  or  weak  ;  some  hypocrites  go  longer  before 
they  are  discovered  tiian  others  ;  because  ihey  meet 
not  with  such  poweriul  tem[itations  to  draw  out 
their  corruptions.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3023.)  Coals  of  fire  cannot  be  concealed  beneath 
the  most  sumptuous  apparel,  they  will  betray  them- 
selves with  smoke  and  tianie  ;  nor  can  dai  ling  sins  be 
long  hidden  beneath  the  most  ostentatious  prolession, 
they  will  sooner  or  later  discover  themselves,  and 
burn  sad  holes  in  the  man's  reputation.  Sin  needs 
quenching  in  the  Saviour's  biood,  not  concealing 
under  the  garb  of  religion.  — ^pur^eon. 


HYPOCRITES. 


(    510    ) 


HYPOCRITES. 


12.  The  vanity  of  their  hope. 

(3024.)  In  the  14th  verse  of  the  8th  chapter  of 
Job,  we  have  the  hypocrite's  hope  compared  to  "  a 
Bpitier's  veb  ; "  a  siuiilitucle  of  great  elegance  and 
significance  ;  ami  we  may  observe  a  great  analogy 
between  the  spider's  web,  and  that  in  a  double 
respect. 

1st.  In  respect  of  the  curious  suhtilty  and  the 
fine  artificial  composure  of  it.  The  spider  in  every 
web  shows  itself  an  artist  :  so  the  hypocrite  spins 
his  hope  witli  a  great  deal  of  art,  in  a  thin,  line 
thread.  This  and  that  good  duty,  this  good  thought, 
this  opposing  of  some  gross  sin,  are  all  interwoven 
together  to  the  making  up  a  covering  for  his  hypo- 
crisy. And  as  the  spider  draws  all  out  of  its  own 
bowels,  so  the  hypocrite  weaves  all  his  confidence 
out  of  his  own  inventions  and  imaginations. 

2dly.  It  resembles  it  in  respect  of  its  weakness  ; 
it  is  too  fine  spun  to  be  strong.  After  the  spider 
has  used  all  its  art  and  labour  in  framing  a  web,  yet 
how  easily  is  it  broken,  how  quickly  is  it  swept 
down  !  So  after  the  hypocrite  has  wrought  out  a 
hope  with  much  cost,  art,  and  industry,  it  is  yet  but 
a  weak,  slender,  pitiful  tjiing.  He  does  indeed  by 
this  get  some  name  and  room  amongst  professors  ; 
he  does,  as  it  were,  hang  his  hopes  upon  the  beams 
of  God's  house.  But  when  God  shall  come  to 
cleanse,  and,  as  it  were,  to  sweep  His  sanctuary, 
such  cobwebs  are  sure  to  be  fetched  down.  Thus 
the  hypocrite,  like  the  spider,  by  all  his  artifice 
and  labour  only  disfigures  God's  houce.  A  hypo- 
crite in  a  church  is  like  a  cobweb  in  a  palace — all 
that  he  it  or  does  serving  only  to  annoy  and  mis- 
become the  place  and  station  that  he  would  adorn. 
— South,  1 63  3- 1  7 1 6. 

(3025.)  To  show  yet  farther  how  contemptible 
and  vain  a  thing  it  is,  we  have  the  wise  man 
emphatically  comparing  it  to  a  candle,  in  Prov. 
xxiv.  20,  where  he  tells  us  that  "the  candle  of  the 
wicked  shall  be  put  out."  And  what  is  a  candle, 
but  a  diminutive,  dwindling  light  at  best,  made 
only  to  burn  for  a  little  time,  both  shining  and 
spending  itself  at  once  ;  so  that  although  it  should 
not  be  blown  out,  or  extinguished  by  any  violent 
accident,  yet  it  would  at  length  go  out  of  its  own 
accord,  and  that  too  with  an  offensive  farewell  left 
behind.  In  like  manner,  though  God  should  not, 
by  any  severe  and  boisterous  dispensation  of  judg- 
ments, forcibly  tear  the  hypocrite's  hope  out  of  his 
heart  ;  yet  through  its  own  native  weakness,  having 
lasted  its  term,  and,  like  a  candle,  having  consumed 
its  little  stock,  it  must  die  away  of  itself. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

13.  Their  \i'lckedness. 

(3026.)  It  is  fearful  for  a  man  to  bind  two  sins 
together,  when  he  is  not  able  to  bear  the  load  of 
one.  To  act  wicketlness,  and  then  to  cloak  it,  is 
for  a  man  to  wound  himself,  and  then  go  to  the 
devil  for  a  plaster.  What  man  doth  conceal,  God 
will  not  cancel.  Iniquities  strangled  in  silence 
will  strangle  the  soul  in  heaviness. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(3027  >  The  door  of  his  mouth  is  swept  and 
garnished,  and  strewed  with  green  rushes  ;  but  in 
his  heart  is  a  whole  legion  of  devils.  Tlie  hypocrite, 
certainly,  is  a  secret  atheist  ;  lor  if  he  did  believe 
there  v. as  a  God,  he  durst  not  be  so  bold  as  to 
deceive  Him  to  His  face.  — Adams,  1653. 

(J028.)  Hype 'rites  are  like  the  snake,  which  casts 


her  coat,  but  keeps  her  poison  :  they  keep  the  lov« 
of  sin.  — liaison,  1696. 

14.  Their  punishment. 

(3029.)  "And  whose  trust  shall  be  a  spider's  web" 
(Job  viii.  14).  The  assurance  of  the  hypocrite  is 
rightly  called  like  the  webs  of  spiders,  in  that  all 
the  pains  and  labour  they  spend  to  acquire  glory, 
the  wind  of  mortality  blows  quite  to  shreds.  For 
as  they  never  seek  the  things  of  eternity,  they  lose 
together  with  time  all  temporal  good  things. 

Moreover  it  is  to  be  considered  that  spiders  draw 
their  threads  in  a  regular  order,  for  that  hypocrites 
as  it  were  regulate  their  works  by  the  rule  of  dis- 
cernment. The  spider's  web  is  woven  with  pains, 
but  it  is  scattered  by  a  sudden  blast. 

— Gregory,  545-604. 

(3030.)  The  dissolute  shall  speed  better  than  th( 
hypocrite  ;  and  lukewarmness  is  more  offensive  to 
God's  stomach  than  frost-coldness.  The  thistle  in 
the  forest  shall  not  fare  so  ill  as  the  barren  fig-tree 
in  the  vineyard.  — Adams,  1653. 

(3031.)  Bad  men  may  keep  up  long,  but  when 
once  they  fall,  they  cannot  rise  again.  They  are 
like  apples  I  have  seen  hanging  from  a  tree,  round 
and  fair  as  they  could  be,  but  also  insiile  as  rotten 
as  they  could  be.  As  long  as  they  could  swing 
upon  their  stem  they  did  well  enough,  but  when 
they  had  fallen  and  smashed  u[ion  the  ground,  I 
never  heard  of  their  being  made  good  api)les  of 
afterwards.  — Beecher. 

(3032.)  The  meteor,  if  it  once  fall,  cannot  be 
rekindled.  When  those  who  once  flashed  before 
the  eyes  of  the  religious  public  with  the  blaze  of  a 
vain  profession  fall  into  open  and  scandalous  sin, 
it  is  impossible  to  renew  their  glory.  Once  break 
the  egg  of  hypocrisy,  and  who  can  repair  the 
damage?  — Spurgeon. 

15.  Do  not  disprove  the  existence  of  true  piety. 

(3033.)  Will  you  say  that  there  are  no  real  stars, 
because  you  sometimes  see  meteors  fall,  which  foi 
a  time  appeared  to  be  stars  ?  Will  you  say  that 
blossoms  never  produce  fruit,  because  many  of  them 
fall  off,  and  some  fruit  which  a[)peaied  sound  is 
rotten  at  the  core?  Equally  absurd  is  it  to  say 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  real  religion,  because 
many  who  profess  it  fall  away,  or  prove  to  be 
hypocrites  in  heart.  — Payson. 

(3034.)  As  to  the  insinuation  of  general  hypocrisy, 
the  wretched  charge  got  up  against  all  religion, 
when  some  specious  professor  stands  unmasked 
before  the  world,  how  absurd  it  is  ! 

Is  there  no  sound  grain  in  our  barn-yards,  be- 
cause there  is  so  much  chaff? 

Are  all  patriots — Wallace  and  Bruce,  Tell,  Russell, 
and  Washington — deceivers  and  liars,  because  some 
men  have  villainously  betrayed  their  country  ? 

Is  there  no  bright  honour  in  our  army,  because 
some  soldiers — the  sweepings,  probably,  of  our  city 
streets — have  deserted,  left  the  lines,  and  leaped 
the  trenches,  and  gone  over  to  the  enemy  ? 

Is  there  no  such  virtue  as  integrity  among 
British  merchants,  because  now  and  then  we  hear 
of  a  fraudulent  bankrupt? 

Because  some  religious  professors  prove  hypo- 
crites, is  therefore  all  ardent  piety  hollow  hvpocrisy  ? 

— GtUhrie. 


yoY. 


(  511   ) 


70V. 


JOY. 

1.  Is  more  than  mirthfulnesB, 

(3035.)  True  joy  is  a  serene  and  sober  motion  ; 
and  tluy  are  miserably  out  that  take  langliing  for 
rejoicing  :  tlie  seat  of  it  is  within,  and  there  is  no 
clieerfuiiiess  like  the  resolutions  of  a  brave  mind, 
that  has  fortune  under  its  feet. 

—Sftteca,  B.C.  S~A.D.  65. 

8.  The  transiency  of  worldly  Joys. 

(3036.)  Worldly  joys  are  soon  gone.  Some  may 
crown  themselves  with  rose-buds,  and  liathe  in  the 
perfumed  waters  of  pleasure,  yet  these  joys  which 
seem  to  be  sweet  are  swift  ;  like  meteors,  they  give 
a  bright  and  sudden  flash,  and  then  disajipear.  But 
the  ioys  which  believers  have,  are  aliiiling  ;  they 
are  a  blossom  of  eternity,  a  pledge  and  earnest  of 
tliose  rivers  of  pleasure  which  run  at  God's  right 
hand  for  evermore.  — ll'aison,  1696. 

8.  Is  a  duty  of  the  Christian  life. 

(3037-)  Christ  takes  no  more  delight  to  dwell  in 
a  sad  heart,  than  we  do  to  live  in  a  dark  house. 
Therefore,  let  in  the  light  which  sheds  its  beams 
upon  thee  from  the  promise,  or  else  thy  sw'eet 
Saviour  will  be  gone.  — Giirnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3038.)  I  desire  the  dejected  Christian  toconsider, 
that  by  his  heavy  and  uncomfortalile  life,  he  seemeth 
to  the  world  to  accuse  God  and  His  service,  as  if  he 
openly  called  Him  a  rigorous,  harr'  unacceptable 
^laster,  and  His  work  a  sad  unplea.ant  thing.  I 
know  this  is  not  your  thoughts  :  1  know  it  is  your- 
selves, and  not  God  and  His  service  that  offendeth 
you  ;  and  that  you  walk  heavily  not  because  you 
are  holy,  but  because  you  fear  you  are  not  holy,  and 
because  you  are  no  more  holy.  I  know  it  is  n^t  of 
grace,  but  for  grace  that  you  complain.  But  do  you 
not  give  too  great  occasion  to  ignorant  spectators 
to  judge  otherwise?  If  you  see  a  servant  always 
sad,  that  was  wont  to  be  merry  while  he  served 
another  master,  will  you  not  think  that  he  hath  a 
masier  that  displeaseth  him?  If  you  see  a  woman 
live  in  continual  heaviness  ever  since  she  was 
married,  that  lived  merrily  before,  will  you  not 
think  that  she  hath  met  vvith  an  unpleasing  match? 
You  are  born  and  new  born  for  God's  honour  ;  and 
will  you  thus  dishonour  Him  before  the  world  ? 
What  do  you  Hn  their  eyes)  but  dispraise  Him  by 
your  very  countenance  and  carriage,  while  you  walk 
before  Him  in  so  much  heaviness?  The  child  that 
still  cries  when  you  put  on  his  shoes  doth  signify 
that  they  pinch  him,  and  he  dispraiseth  his  meat 
that  makes  a  sour  face  at  it,  and  he  dispraiseth 
liis  friend  that  is  always  sad  and  troubled  in  his 
company.  He  that  should  say  of  God,  "Thou  art 
ba'i,  or  cruel,  and  unmerciful,"  should  blaspheme. 
And  so  would  he  that  saith  of  holiness,  "  It  is  a 
bad,  unpleasant,  hurtful  state."  How  then  dare 
you  do  that  which  is  so  like  to  such  blaspheming, 
when  you  should  abstain  from  all  appearance  of 
evil?  — Baxter,   1615-1691. 

(3039.)  Much  harm  has  been  done  by  the  idea 
that  a  certain  gloom,  and  a  restriction  of  the  lively 
emotions,  b^-ar  some  relation  to  piety.  These  bear 
the  same  relation  to  it  that  rust  does  to  the  bwortl- 
blade — Ihey  eat  into  it.  The  command,  "  Be  sober," 
does  not  mean,  be  unmirthful.  — Beecktr. 

4.  Its  beauty. 

(3040.)  As  sinceri  y  is  the  soul  of  all  graces  and 


duties,  so  this  delight  is  the  lustre  and  embroiderj 
of  them.  — Charnock,  i628-i6i>o. 

5.  Its  transforming:  power. 

(3041.)  Joy  is  not  a  fancy,  or  bred  of  conceit  : 
but  is  rational,  and  ariseth  from  the  feeling  of  some 
good,  viz.,  the  sense  of  God's  love  and  lavour.  Joy 
is  so  real  a  thing,  that  it  makes  a  sudden  change  in 
a  person  ;  it  turns  mourning  into  melody.  As  in 
the  spring-time,  when  the  sun  comes  to  our  horizon, 
it  makes  a  sudden  alteration  in  the  face  of  the  uni- 
verse,— the  birds  sing,  the  flowers  appear,  the  fig- 
tree  puts  forth  her  gri-en  figs  ;  everything  seems  to 
rejoice  and  put  ofi"  its  mourning,  as  being  revived 
with  the  sweet  influence  of  the  sun  ;  so,  when  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness  ariseth  on  the  soul,  it  makes 
a  sudden  alteration,  and  the  soul  is  infinitely  rejoiced 
with  the  golden  beams  of  God's  love. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

6.  Should  be  continuous. 

(3042.)  Rejoice  in  God,  "although  the  fig-tree 
blossom  not,"  <S;c.  (Hab.  iii.  17,  iS).  Yea,  rejoice 
in  these  hardest  things  as  His  doings.  A  heart  re- 
joicing in  liim  delights  in  all  His  will,  and  is 
surely  providing  for  the  most  firm  joy  in  all  estates. 
For  if  nothing  can  come  to  pass  besides  or  against 
His  will,  then  cannot  that  soul  be  vexed  that 
delights  in  Him,  and  has  no  will  but  His,  but 
follows  Him  at  all  times  ;  not  only  when  He  shines 
bright  on  them,  but  when  they  are  clouded.  That 
flower  that  follows  the  sun,  does  so  even  in  cloudy 
days  ;  when  it  does  not  shine  forth,  yet  it  follows 
the  hidden  course  and  motion  of  it  :  so  the  soul  that 
moves  after  God  keeps  that  course  when  He  hides 
His  face,  is  content,  yea,  is  glad  at  His  will  in  all 
estates,  or  conditions,  or  events. 

— Leighten,  1611-1684. 

7.  Its  hindrances. 

(3043.)  The  reason  why  many  poor  souls  have 
so  little  heat  of  joy  in  their  hearts,  is  that  they  have 
so  little  light  of  gospel  knowledge  in  their  mind. 
'I'he  further  a  soul  stands  from  the  light  of  truth, 
the  further  he  must  needs  be  from  the  heat  of  com- 
fort. —  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3044.)  Having  once  closed  with  Christ,  thy 
guilt  is  gone,  and  this  spoiled  thy  mirth  before  ;  all 
your  dancing  of  a  child  will  not  make  it  quiet  if  a 
pin  pricks  it  ;  well,  now  the  pin  of  guilt  is  taken 
out,  that  robbed  thee  of  the  joy  of  life. 

— Gurjtall,  161 7-1679. 

(3045.)  Tt  is  only  where  there  is  much  faith  and 
consequent  love  that  there  is  much  joy.  Let  us 
search  our  own  hearts,  ll  there  is  but  little  heat 
around  the  bulb  of  the  thermometer,  no  wonder 
that  the  mercury  marks  but  a  low  degree.  If  there 
is  but  small  faith,  there  will  not  be  much  glad- 
ness. The  road  into  Giant  Despair's  castle  is 
through  doubt,  which  doubt  comes  Irom  an  absence, 
a  sinlul  absence,  in  our  own  experience,  of  the  lelt 
presence  of  God,  and  the  felt  force  of  the  ve-'ities 
of  His  Gospel.  — Maclaren. 

8.  Mistakes  concerning  it : 

(I.)  //   is   not  necessarily  an  immediate  effect  of 

conversion. 

(3046. )  There  be  many  persons  who  suppose,  be- 
cause Christianity  is  joy-producing,  that  when  they 
become  Christians  they  will  necessarily  be  ioy'"ui. 
They  suppose  that  they  are  to  take  it  as  they  would 


JOY. 


(    512    ) 


70  V. 


nitrous  oxide  gas,  and  that  when  they  have  sucked 
it  in  awhile,  they  will  begin  to  experience  the  in- 
spiration of  joy,  that  they  will  he  lifted  up,  and 
that  they  will  feel  delightfully.  Hiere  are  those 
who  suppose  that  there  is  a  divine  magnificent 
intoxication  which  God  gives  to  the  souls  of  His 
children  ;  and  that  when  the  flash  strikes  them  they 
will  break  forth  into  rejoicings,  and  say,  "Joy!" 
"  Glory  !  ••  "  flallelujah  !  "  "  How  ha]'py  I  am  !  " 
There  are  some  who  have  such  an  experience  ;  but 
how  long  does  it  last  ?  I  low  quick  does  the  sudden 
blaze  become  sudden  ashes  !  — Beecher. 

(2.)  It  will  not  be  exf^eriatced  or  continued  unless 
the  conditions  of  joy  are  fui filled. 

(3047.)  When  you  look  at  the  actual  lives  of 
Christians — even  of  those  who  strive  to  live  in 
accordance  with  the  innermost  meaning  of  the  term 
disciples  of  Christ,  do  you  find  joy  ?  1  do  not  think 
that  you  find  it  in  any  such  measure  as  to  charac- 
terise them  and  discriminate  them  from  other 
people.  Was  there,  then,  an  impossible  thing 
commanded  ?  Was  that  commanded  which  could 
not  take  place?     1  think  not. 

Our  florists  make  up  packages  of  seeds,  and  send 
out  for  a  dollar  thirty  kinds,  or  for  two  dollars 
eighty  kinds ;  there  are  directions  that  go  with 
them;  iind  every  package  is  labe  led,  "Gorgeous 
purple,"  "  Exceedingly  beautiful,"  "  Remarkably 
line,"  and  so  on,  referring  to  the  flowers.  Now,  let 
these  seeds  go  into  the  hands  of  some  clumsy  person 
who  perhaps  has  raised  corn  and  potatoes,  but  who 
has  never  raised  flowers  ;  and  let  him  plant  them  in 
cold,  wet,  barren  soil,  and  at  an  untimely  season. 
<V  few  of  them  will  sprout,  and  will  come  slowly  up, 
pale  and  spindling,  and  will  be  neglected,  and  the 
weeds  will  overrun  them  ;  and  when  the  time  for 
blossoming  comes  there  will  be  found  here  and 
there  a  scrawny  [ilant  with  one  or  two  stingy 
blossoms,  and  men  will  say,  "  Now  we  see  the  out- 
come of  this  pretence.  Look  at  the  labels  on  the 
S[)ecimens.  It  is  all  humbug.  The  man  says, 
'Gorgeous  purple.'  Here  is  what  he  calls  i;or;:;eons 
piirplet  He  says,  'Exceedingly  beautiful.'  That 
is  his  idea  of  beauty!  He  says,  '  Remarkably  fine.' 
That  is  retiiarkably  fine,  is  it?"  So  they  go  through 
the  whole  catalogue,  and  say,  "There  was  the  pro- 
mise, and  here  is  the  fulfilment !  " 

But  do  you  not  perceive  that  the  way  in  which 
you  use  the  seed,  the  manner  in  which  you  plant 
it,  the  skill  that  you  exercise  in  preparing  the  soil 
to  receive  it,  and  the  season  that  you  have  to 
plant  it  in,  have  much  to  do  with  its  successful 
growth  ?  There  are  a  hundred  circumstances  which 
will  have  a  great  deal  to  do  in  determining  what 
you  will  actually  get.  It  is  true  that  beautiful 
plants  might  have  been  produced  from  those  seeds. 
They  were  deserving  of  all  the  praise  that  was 
bestowed  upon  them.  There  was  no  deception 
practised  concerning  them.  They  might  have  been 
just  what  they  were  represented  to  be.  But  they 
were  not  what  they  might  have  been,  for  want  of 
knowledge,  for  want  of  skill,  and  for  want  of  the 
right  adaptation  of  conditions  to  ends. 

— Beecher. 

(3048.)  While,  on  the  one  hand,  there  is  no  more 
certain  means  of  enjoying  God  than  of  humbly 
seeking  to  walk  in  the  ways  of  His  commandments, 
on  il.e  other  hanii,  there  is  nothing  more  evanescent 
in  it^    laiure  than  the  emotion  of  religious  joy,  failli, 


or  the  like,  unless  it  be  turned  into  a  spring  of 
action  for  Got'.  Such  emotions,  like  photographs, 
vani.sh  from  the  heart  unless  they  be  fixed.  Work 
lor  God  is  the  way  to  fix  them.  Joy  in  God  is  the 
strength  of  work  for  God,  but  work  for  God  is  the 
perpetuation  of  joy  in  God.  — Maclaren. 

(3.)  Like  all  other  feelings,  it  is  not  unintermittent. 

(3049.)  Mark  the  same  people  that  usually  have 
the  highest  joys,  and  see  whether  at  other  times 
they  have  not  the  greatest  troubles.  This  week 
they  are  as  at  the  gates  of  heaven,  and  the  next  as  at 
the  doors  of  hell  :  i  am  sure,  with  many  it  is  so. 
Yet  it  need  not  be  so,  if  Christians  would  but  look 
at  these  high  joys  as  duties  to  be  endeavoured,  and 
mercies  to  be  valued  ;  but  when  they  will  needs 
judge  of  their  state  by  them,  and  think  that  God  is 
gone  from  them  or  forsaken  them,  when  they  have 
not  such  joys,  then  it  leaves  them  in  terror  and 
amazement.  Like  men  after  a  flash  of  lightning, 
that  are  left  more  sensible  of  the  darkness.  For  no 
wise  man  can  expect  that  such  joys  shoukl  be  a 
Christian's  ordinary  state  ;  or  God  should  so  diet  us 
with  a  continual  feast.  It  would  neither  suit  with 
our  health,  nor  the  condition  of  this  pilgrimage. 
Live,  therefore,  on  your  peace  of  conscience  as  your 
ordinary  diet  ;  when  this  is  wanting,  know  that 
God  appointeth  you  a  fast  for  your  health  ;  and 
when  you  have  a  feast  of  high  joy.'^,  feed  on  it  and 
be  thankful ;  but  when  they  are  taken  from  you, 
gape  not  after  them  as  the  disciples  did  after  Christ 
at  His  ascension  ;  but  return  thankfully  to  your 
ordinary  diet  of  peace.  And  remember  that  these 
joys,  which  are  now  taken  from  you,  may  so  return 
again.  However,  there  is  a  place  preparing  for 
you,  where  your  joys  shall  be  full. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3050.)  There  is  a  certain  experience  of  joy 
narrated  that  I  think  is  mischievous.  1  sometimes 
hear  men  speak  in  the  most  undiscriminating  way 
in  meetings  (I  do  not  mean  in  our  own),  where 
they  say,  "I  used  to  be  very  unhappy,  but  since 
God  shone  on  my  soul,  I  have  not  seen  a  cloud. 
All  day  long,  from  morning  till  night,  and  from  day 
to  day,  I  am  in  an  empyrean  oi  joy."  I  do  not 
believe  it,  in  the  first  place.  A  man  might  just  as 
well  say  to  me,  "I  had  my  violin  tuned  filty  years 
ago,  and  it  is  in  as  good  order  now  as  it  was  then, 
and  there  has  not  been  a  string  touched  since."  I 
do  not  believe  it.  I  do  not  believe  a  cat-gut  was 
ever  made  that  did  not  shrink  and  lengthen  by 
the  stress  of  weather.  If  a  man  tells  me  that  he  has 
an  uninterrupted  and  uniform  experience  of  joy,  I  do 
not  believe  him.  If  he  says  he  has  come  into  a  high 
state  of  joy,  I  am  not  disposed  to  doubt  that ;  but 
however  high  that  state  ol  joy  may  be,  it  must  have 
gradations,  sometimes  flaming  up  into  glorious  light 
and  admirable  beauty, at  other  times  lingering  in  twi- 
light, and  at  other  times  going  out  in  darkness,  so 
that  for  a  period  there  is  a  tutal  abstinence  from 
joy.  That  is  the  normal,  and  that  is  the  necessary 
experience  of  joy,  where  it  is  wholesome. 

— Beecher, 

(4. )  Perfect  joy  is  not  to  be  expected  on  earth. 

(3051.)  As  gold  keeps  the  name  in  the  leaf  as 
well  as  in  the  wedge,  in  the  coin  as  in  the  bullion  ; 
or  as  he  that  sees  a  beam  or  two  shine  through  the 
crevice  of  a  wall  may  say  he  seas  the  sun  shine,  as 
well  as  he  that  walks  abroad :  so  neither  are  we  so 


JUDGMENT. 


(    513    ) 


THE  DA  V  OF 


destitute  of  all  comfoi  t,  as  because  the  earth  is  not 
our  heaven,  to  make  it  therefore  our  hell  ;  l)iit  we 
may  say  there  is  a  leaf  of  joy,  the  tin-foil  of  it  here 
in  this  lile,  some  few  gliin|ises  that  shine  in  upon 
us.  As  for  the  full,  the  solid,  the  jubilating  joy,  it 
must  not  be  looked  for  in  this  valley  of  tears.  There 
is  })y,  but  not  here  ;  true  joy,  but  not  yet.  Tarry 
till  the  harvest  we  must,  but  then  we  shall  reap  in 
joy,  when  heaven  is  our  dwelling,  the  angels  our 
partners,  incorruption  our  change,  immortality  our 
garment.  The  earth  is  not  the  place  for  such  joy, 
nor  dull  flesh  the  subject  of  it. 

—Duppa,  1 5  88- 1 662. 

9.  Christian  Joy  Is  heaven  begun. 

(3052. )  The  joy,  and  the  sense  of  salvation,  which 
the  pure  in  heart  have  here,  is  not  a  joy  severed 
from  the  joy  of  heaven,  but  a  joy  that  begins  in  us 
here,  and  continues,  and  accompanies  us  tliither, 
and  there  flows  on,  and  dihites  itself  to  an  inlinite 
exjjansion  (as,  if  you  should  touch  one  corn  of 
powder  in  a  train,  and  that  train  shouki  carry  fire 
into  a  whole  city,  from  the  beginning  it  was  one 
and  the  same  fire),  though  the  fulness  of  glory  there- 
of be  reserved  to  that  which  is  expressed  in  the 
promise,  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they 
shall  see  God !  "  —Dotine,  1573-1631. 

{3053)  The  noblest  spirits  are  those  which  turn 
to  heaven,  not  in  the  hour  of  sorrow  but  in  that  of 
joy  ;  like  the  lark,  tliey  wait  for  the  clouds  to  dis- 
perse, that  they  may  soar  up  into  their  native 
element.  — Jdan  i'aul  KichUr, 


JUDGMENT.     THE  DAY  OF. 

1.  Its  terrors, 

(3054.)  In  final  and  extreme  events,  the  multitude 
df  suflerers  does  not  lessen  but  increase  the  suffer- 
ings ;  and  when  the  first  day  of  judgment  hapjiened, 
that  (I  mean>  of  tiie  universal  deluge  of  waters  on  the 
old  world,  the  calamity  swelled  like  the  flood,  and 
every  man  saw  his  friend  perish,  and  tiie  neighbours 
of  his  dwelling,  and  the  relatives  of  his  house,  and 
the  sharers  of  his  joys,  and  yesterday's  biide,  and 
the  new-born  heir,  the  priest  of  the  lamily,  and  the 
honour  ol  the  kindred,  all  dying  or  dead,  drenched 
in  water  and  the  Divine  vengeance  ;  and  then  they 
had  no  place  to  flee  unto,  no  man  cared  for  their 
souls  ;  they  had  none  to  go  unto  for  counsel,  no 
sanctuary  high  enough  to  keep  them  from  the  ven- 
geance that  rained  down  from  heaven  ;  and  so  it 
shall  beat  the  Day  of  Judgment,  when  that  world 
and  this,  and  all  that  shall  be  born  hereafter,  shall 
pnss  through  the  same  Red  Sea,  and  be  all  baptized 
with  the  same  fire,  and  be  involved  in  the  same 
cloud,  in  which  shall  be  thuiulerings  and  terrors 
infinite;  every  man's  fear  shall  be  increased  by  his 
neighbour's  shrieks,  and  the  amazement  that  all  the 
world  sliall  be  in  shall  unite  as  the  sparks  of  a 
raging  furnace  into  a  globe  of  fire,  and  shall  roll  on 
its  own  principle,  and  increase  by  direct  appearances 
and  intolerable  reflectinns.  I!e  that  stands  in  a 
churchyard  in  the  lime  of  a  great  plague,  and  hears 
tlie  passing-bell  perjietually  telling  the  sad  stories 
of  <lenth,  and  sees  crowds  of  infected  bodies  pressing 
to  *heir  graves,  and  others  sick  and  tremulous,  and 
death  dressed  up  in  all  the  images  of  sorrow  round 
about  him,  is  not  sii])iiorted  in  his  spirit  by  the 
variety  of  his  sorrow  :  and  at  Doomsday,  when  the 
terror  are  universal,  besides  that  it  is  in  itself  so 


much  greater,  because  it  can  affright  the  whole 
world,  it  is  also  made  greater  by  communication 
and  a  sorrowful  influence;  grief  being  then  strongly 
infectious,  when  there  is  no  variety  of  state,  but  an 
entire  kingdom  of  fear  ;  and  amazement  is  king  of 
all  our  passions,  and  all  the  world  its  subjects  ;  and 
that  shriek  must  needs  be  terrible,  when  millions 
of  men  and  women,  at  the  same  instant,  shall  fear- 
fully cry  out,  and  the  noise  shall  mingle  with  the 
trumpet  of  the  archangel,  with  the  thunders  of  the 
dying  and  groaning  heavens,  and  the  crack  of  the 
dissolving  world,  when  the  whole  fabric  of  citation 
shall  shake  into  dissolution  and  eternal  ashes. 

— Jeremy  Tayior,  1612-1667. 

2.  Its  dlsclosTires. 

(3055.)  "The  iniquity  of  Ephraim  is  bound  up, 
their  sin  is  hid."  Not  that  his  sin  was  hid  from 
God,  but  his  sin  is  hid  ;  that  is,  it  is  recorded,  it  is 
laid  up  against  a  day  of  reckoning.  That  this  is  the 
meaning,  is  clear  by  the  foregoing  words,  his  iniquity 
is  bound  up  :  as  the  clerk  of  the  assizes  binds  up  the 
indictments  of  malefactors  in  a  bundle,  anil  at  the 
assizes  brings  out  the  indictments,  and  reads  them 
in  court,  so  God  binds  up  men's  sins  in  a  bundle, 
and,  at  the  Day  of  Judgment,  this  bundle  shall  be 
opened,  and  all  their  sins  brought  to  light  before 
men  and  angels.  — Watson,  1696. 

3.  Our  motives  will  determine  our  destiny. 
(3056.)  If  we  had  eyes  adapted  to  the  sight,  we 

should  see,  on  looking  into  the  smallest  seed,  the 
future  flower  or  shrub  or  tiee  enclosed  in  it.  God 
will  look  into  our  feelings  and  motives  as  intt 
seeds;  by  those  embryos  of  action  He  will  infallibly 
determine  what  «e  are,  and  will  show  what  we 
should  have  been,  had  there  been  scope  and  stage 
for  their  development  and  maturity.  Nothing  will 
be  made  light  of.  The  very  dust  of  the  balances 
shall  be  taken  into  account.  It  is  in  the  moral 
world,  as  it  is  in  the  natural,  where  every  substance 
weighs  something;  though  we  speak  of  imponder- 
able bodies,  yet  nature  knows  nothing  of  positive 
levity ;  and  were  men  possessed  of  the  necessary 
scales,  tlie  requisite  instrument,  we  should  find  the 
same  holds  true  in  the  moral  world.  Nothing'  is 
insignificant  on  which  sin  has  breathed  the  breath 
of  hell  :  everything  is  important  in  which  holiness 
has  impressed  itself  in  the  faintest  characters.  And 
accordingly  "there  is  nothing  covered  that  shall 
not  be  revealed  ;  and  hid  that  shall  not  be  known." 
However  unimportant  now,  in  the  estimation  of  man, 
yet,  when  placed  in  the  light  of  the  Divme  coinite- 
nance,  like  the  atom  in  the  sun's  rays,  it  shall  be 
found  deserving  attention  ;  and  as  the  minutest 
molecule  of  matter  contains  all  the  primordial  ele- 
ments of  a  world,  so  the  least  atom  of  that  mind 
shall  be  found  to  include  in  it  the  essential  elements 
of  heaven.  — Harris,  1804-1S56. 

4.  The  law  hy  which  we  shall  be  judg:ed. 
(3057.)    Our    sentence  is  already  passed   by  the 

law.  "The  word  that  I  have  spoken,  the  same 
shall  judge  you  in  the  last  day."  A  man  that  is  to 
be  examined  and  tried  for  life  and  death,  would 
fain  know  how  it  would  speed  with  him,  and  how 
matters  shall  be  carried  beforehand.  God  will  not 
deal  with  you  by  way  of  surprise  ;  He  hath  plainly 
told  you  according  to  what  rule  He  will  proceed. 
The  sentence  on  our  state,  be  it  a  good  or  evil  one, 
is  already  passed.    (See  John  iii.  18,  Rom.  viii.  i.) 

—Salter. 
2  K 


JUDGMENT. 


(    514    ) 


THE  DA  Y  OF 


6.  Its  px'esent  moral  Irfluence. 

(3058.)  The  Romans,  when  the  fear  of  Carthage, 
that  aspired  lo  a  superiority  in  empire,  was  re- 
moved, presently  degenerated  from  military  valour 
and  civil  virtues  into  softness  and  luxury.  So  if 
men  were  absolved  from  the  fear  of  judgment  to 
come,  no  restraint  would  be  strong  enough  to  bridle 
the  impeiuous  resolutions  of  his  depraved  will. 

— Bates,  1625-1699. 

(3059.)  Whether  I  eat  or  drink,  or  in  whatever 
other  action  or  employment  I  am  engaged,  that 
solemn  voice  always  seems  to  sound  in  my  ears, 
"Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come  to  judgment."  As  often 
as  I  think  of  tiie  Day  of  J  udgment,  my  heart  quakes, 
and  my  wiiole  frame  iremljles.  If  I  am  to  indulge 
in  any  of  the  pleasures  of  the  present  life,  I  am  re- 
solved to  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  the  solemn  reali- 
ties of  the  future  judgment  may  never  be  banished 
from  my  recollection.         — St.  Jerome,  340-420. 

6.  Why  men  are  indifferent  with  regard  to  it. 

(3060.)  An  object  in  itself  great,  and  which  we 
know  to  be  so,  will  appear  small  to  us  if  we  view 
it  from  a  distance.  The  stars,  for  example,  in  our 
view,  are  but  as  little  specks  or  points  of  light ;  and 
the  tip  of  a  finger,  if  held  very  near  to  the  eye,  is 
sufficient  to  hide  from  us  the  whole  body  of  the  sun. 
Distance  of  time  has  an  effect  upon  us,  in  its  kind, 
similar  to  distance  of  space.  It  diminishes  in  our 
mind  the  idea  of  what  we  are  assured  is,  in  its  own 
nature,  of  great  magnitude  and  importance.  If  any 
of  us  were  informed  that  we  should  certainly  die 
before  this  day  closes,  what  a  sudden  and  powerful 
change  would  take  place  in  our  thoughts  !  That 
we  ail  must  die,  is  a  truth,  of  which  we  are  no  less 
jertain,  than  that  we  are  now  alive.  But  because 
it  is  possible  that  we  may  not  die  to-day,  or  to- 
morrow, or  this  year,  or  for  several  years  to  come, 
we  are  often  little  more  affected  by  the  thoughts  of 
■death,  than  if  we  expected  to  live  here  foi  ever.  In 
like  manner,  if  you  receive  the  Scripture  as  a  Divine 
revelation,  I  need  offer  you  no  other  proof,  that 
there  is  a  day,  a  great  day,  approaching,  which 
will  put  an  end  to  the  present  slate  of  things,  and 
introiluce  a  state  unchangeable  ami  eternal.  Then 
the  Lord  will  descend  with  a  shout,  with  the  voice 
of  an  archangel,  and  with  the  trump  of  God.  The 
earth  and  all  its  works  will  be  burnt  up.  The  great 
Judge  will  appear,  the  tribunal  be  fixed,  the  books 
opened, and  all  the  human  race  nmst  give  an  account 
of  themselves  to  God,  and,  according  to  His  right- 
eous award,  be  happy  or  miserable  in  a  degree 
beyond  expression  or  conception,  and  that  for  ever. 

If  we  were  infallibly  assured  that  this  tremendous 
scene  would  open  upon  us  to-morrow  ;  or  if,  while  1 
am  speaking,  we  should  be  slai  tied  with  the  signs  of 
our  Lord's  coming  in  the  air,  what  confusion  and 
alarm  would  oversjiread  the  congregation  !  Vet,  if 
the  Scripture  be  true,  the  hour  is  approaching 
■when  we  must  all  be  spectators  of  this  solemn 
event,  and  parties  nearly  interested  in  it.  IJut  be- 
cause it  is  at  a  distance,  we  can  hear  of  it,  speak  of 
it,  and  profess  to  expect  it,  with  a  coolness  almost 
equal  to  indifference.  — Ne-^vton,  1 725-1 807. 

7.  Not  the  less  certain  because  unexpected. 

(3061.)  It  will  be  unexpected  :  every  judgment- 
coming  of  Christ  is  as  the  springing  of  a  mine. 
There  is  a  moment  of  deep  susjjense  after  the  match 
has  been  applied  to  th*   luse  which  is  to  fire  the 


train.  Men  stand  at  a  distance,  and  hold  thell 
breath.  There  is  nothing  seen  l)ut  a  thin,  rmall 
column  of  wliite  smoke,  rising  fainter,  and  fainter,  ' 
till  it  seems  to  die  away.  Then  men  breathe  a^ain  : 
and  the  inexperienced  soldier  v.'ould  approacl.  the 
place  thinking  that  the  thing  has  been  a  fai'ure. 
It  is  only  faith  in  the  experience  of  the  commarder, 
or  the  veterans,  which  keeps  men  from  hurrying  to 
the  spot  again — till  just  when  expectation  has  be- 
gun to  die  away,  the  low,  deep  thunder  sendi  up 
the  column  of  earth  majestically  to  heaven,  anc  all 
that  was  011  it  comes  crusiiing  down  again  in  its  fat 
circle,  shattered  and  blackened, with  the  blast. 

It  is  so  with  the  world.  By  God's  word  the 
world  is  doomed.  The  moment  of  suspense  is  past : 
the  first  centuries  in  which  men  expected  the  convul- 
sion to  take  place  at  once  ;  for  even  apostles  were 
looking  for  it  in  their  lifetime.  We  have  fallen  upon 
days  of  scepticism.  There  are  no  signs  of  ruin  yet. 
We  tread  upon  it  like  a  solid  thing  fortified  by  its 
a<lamaniine  hills  for  ever.  There  is  nothing  against 
that,  but  a  few  words  in  a  printed  book.  But  the 
world  is  mined  :  antl  the  spark  has  fallen  ;  and  just 
at  the  moment  when  serenity  is  at  its  height,  "the 
heavens  shall  pass  away  with  a  great  noise,  and  the 
elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat,"  and  the  feet 
of  the  Avenger  shall  stand  on  the  earth. 

— Robertson,  1816-1853. 

8.  Importance  of  preparation  for  It. 

(3062.)  The  uncertainty  of  this  day  bespeaks  oui 
preparedness.  When  the  disciples  asked  Christ 
concerning  the  sign  of  His  coming  (Luke  xxi.  7), 
He  answers  them  with  a  hoiv,  not  with  a  what. 
He  describes  the  manner,  but  conceals  the  time : 
such  signs  shall  go  before.  He  does  not  determine 
the  day  when  the  judgment  shall  come  after.  Only 
He  cautions  them,  with  a  "Take  heed,  lest  that 
day  come  upon  you  unawares  :  for  as  a  snare  shall 
it  come  on  all  them  that  dwell  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  "  (vers.  34,  35).  The  bird  little  thinks  of  the 
snare  of  the  fowler,  nor  the  beast  of  the  hunter; 
this  fearlessly  rangelh  through  the  woods,  the  other 
merrily  cuts  the  air  :  both  follow  their  unsuspected 
liberty,  both  are  lost  in  unprevented  ruin.  Against 
public  enemies  we  fortify  our  coasts  ;  against  private 
thieves  we  bar  our  doors,  and  shall  we  nut  against 
the  irremediable  fatality  of  this  day  prepare  out 
souls  ?  It  is  favour  enough  that  the  Lord  hath  given 
us  warning  ;  the  day  is  sudden,  the  warning  is  not 
sudden.  The  old  world  had  the  precaution  of  six- 
score  years,  and  that  (we  cannot  deny)  was  long 
enough  ;  but  we  have  had  the  prediction  of  Christ 
and  His  apostles  of  above  fifteen  huntlred  years' 
standing  ;  l)esides  the  daily  sound  of  those  evan- 
gelical trumpets,  that  tell  us  of  that  archanj^elical 
tiumpet  in  their  (lulpits.  When  we  hear  the  thun- 
der, in  a  dark  night  on  our  beds,  we  fear  the  light- 
ning. Our  Saviour's  gospel,  premonishing  of  this 
day,  is  like  thunder  ;  if  it  cannot  wake  us  from  our 
sins,  the  judgment  shall  come  upon  us  like  light- 
ning, to  our  utter  destruction.  But  I  will  thank  the 
Lord  for  giving  me  warning  (Ps.  xvi.  7).  The 
thunder  first  breaks  the  cloud,  and  makes  way  for 
the  lightning,  yet  the  lightning  first  invades  out 
sense.  All  sermons,  upon  this  argument  of  the 
last  day,  are  thuuder-clajis  ;  yet  such  is  the  security 
of  the  woild,  that  the  st)ns  of  thunder  cannot  waken 
them,  till  the  Father  of  lightning  consume  them. 
Thou  hast  given  a  sign  to  tiiem  that  fear  Thee,  that 
they  ma^  flee  from  tiie  face  of  the  bow,  saiih   that 


JUDGMENT. 


(     515    ) 


THE  DA  V  OF 


royal  prophet.  The  huntsman  doth  not  tlireaten 
the  deer,  or  terrify  him  ;  but  watches  him  at  a  stand, 
and  shoots  him.  But  God  speaks  before  lie  shoots  ; 
take:;  the  bow  in  His  hand  and  shows  it  us  before 
He  puts  in  the  arrow  to  wound  us. 

St.  Gregory  hath  a  meditation,  which,  by  way  of 
similitude,  doth  well  express  this  point  : — Mariners 
have  made  their  voyage,  and  are  returning  home  ; 
when  on  a  sudden  tlie  winds  rise,  and  the  seas  begin 
to  be  troubled.  First  they  are  set  upon  with  lighter 
waves,  then  with  fiercer  billows  :  then  little  b;dls 
of  fire  are  seen  rolling  on  the  face  of  the  waters  : 
now  they  labour  with  all  their  powers,  and  unlade 
the  vessel  of  those  precious  iiieichandise,  for  which 
they  made  their  unliappy  voyage.  But  still  the  in- 
expiable rage  of  the  sea  ceaseth  not,  till  it  hath 
swallowed  the  ship  :  some  sink  with  it,  and  others 
by  help  of  a  little  bark  get  to  shore.  We  are  all 
put  into  the  vessel  of  mortality  ;  and  all  those  signs 
precedinjT  the  Day  of  Judgment,  are  so  many  sucies- 
sive  waves  prognosticating  this  universal  shipwreck. 
And  now  worldlings  would  throw  overboard  their 
unblest  trallic  ;  the  covetous  despiseth  his  riches, 
the  voluptuous  his  pleasures,  the  ambitious  his 
honours  ;  they  have  ventured  all  their  life  for  those 
sins,  and  now  they  would  be  rid  of  that  venture  with 
all  their  hearts.  The  main  storm  comes,  the  earth 
trembles,  the  ocean  roars,  the  elements  melt,  the 
heavens  dissolve,  the  huge  fabric  of  the  whole  workl 
perisheth.  Those  that  have  put  all  their  fortunes 
and  estate  in  that  one  uncertain  vessel  must  perish 
with  it  :  but  the  children  of  grace  have  a  little  pin- 
•nace,  the  Church  of  Christ;  and  this  carries  them 
safe  through  the  hre,  as  Noah's  ark  bore  him  through 
the  water,  and  lands  them  in  heaven,  where  they 
are  welcomed  home  with  songs  of  triumph. 

— Ada/Its,  1653. 

(3063.)  The  Day  of  Judgment  is  remote,  thy  day 
of  judgment  is  at  hand,  and  as  thou  goest  out  in 
particular,  so  thou  shall  be  found  in  the  general. 
Thy  passing-bell  and  the  archangel's  trumpet  have 
l>oth  one  sound  to  thee.  In  the  same  condition  that 
thy  soul  leaves  thy  body,  shall  thy  body  be  iound 
of  thy  soul.  Thou  canst  not  pass  from  thy  death- 
bed a  sinner,  and  ajipearat  the  great  assizes  a  saint. 
Both  in  thy  private  sessions,  and  the  universal  as- 
sizes, thou  shalt  be  sure  of  the  same  Judge,  the 
same  juiy,  the  same  witnesses,  the  same  verdict. 
How  certain  thou  art  to  die,  thou  knowest  ;  how 
soon  to  die,  thou  knowest  not.  Measure  not  thy 
life  with  the  longest  ;  that  were  to  pitce  it  out  with 
flattery.  Thou  canst  name  no  living  man,  not  the 
sickest,  which  thou  art  sure  shall  die  before  thee. 
Daily  we  follow  the  dead  to  their  graves,  and  in 
those  graves  we  bury  the  remembrance  of  our  own 
death  with  them.  Here  drops  an  old  man,  and  there 
a  child  ;  here  an  agetl  matron,  there  a  young  virgin  ; 
with  mourning  eyes  we  attend  them  to  their  fune- 
rals, yet  before  we  lay  the  rosemary  out  of  our  hands, 
the  thought  of  death  hath  vanished  from  our  hearts. 
When  a  hog  lies  bound  under  the  knife  to  be  killed, 
he  makes  a  hideous  cry  above  any  other  creature  : 
hereupon  the  other  swine  come  running  m,  and 
they  grunt,  and  whine,  and  keep  a  fearful  noise  ; 
but  as  soon  as  the  dying  beast  hath  ceased,  they 
also  are  silent,  and  return  to  the  filthy  mire  as  care- 
lessly as  if  no  harm  had  been  done.  When  we  lose 
a  neighbour,  a  friend,  a  brother,  we  weep,  and 
howl,  and  lament,  as  if,  with  Rachel,  we  coukl 
never  be  couiforied;  but  the  body  once  mleircd, 


and  the  funeral  ceremonies  ended,  if  we  do  not  stay 
to  inquire  lor  some  legacies,  we  run  back  with  all 
possiljle  haste  to  our  former  sins  and  turpitudes,  as 
il  there  had  been  no  such  matter.  Alas  1  that  the 
farthest  end  of  all  our  thoughts  should  be  the  thoiight 
of  our  ends  !  Death  is  but  our  apprehension,  like 
the  taking  of  a  malefactor  ;  but  it  sends  us  to  tlie. 
session,  and  that  either  to  forgiveness  or  execution. 
Oh  then,  let  us  repent  in  life,  that  we  niav  find  coin- 
fort  ill  death,  and  be  acquitted  at  the  Day  of  Jutlg- 
nient  by  Jesus  Christ.  — Auai/is,  1653. 

(3064.)  Men  dealing  in  the  world  for  riche>,  are 
but  like  scholars  placing  at  dice  for  counters,  which 
ccme  and  go;  now  the  heap  is  on  this  side,  by  and 
by  on  that  :  on  a  sudden  comes  in  the  master,  and 
he  seizes  all,  both  dice  and  counter.s  ;  not  without 
some  just  correction  of  the  gamesters.  Some  men 
tug,  and  scramble,  and  wrangle  for  these  paltry 
vanities,  wealtli  and  honours  :  this  fountain  dries, 
that  cistern  fills  ;  one  noble  house  withers,  while 
another  of  low  degree  swells  up  to  a  lord  :  to-day 
this  merchant  hath  the  cash,  to-morrow  that ;  but 
the  Lord's  day  confiscates  all,  and  then  who  is  the 
richer  man?  This  world  is  like  a  broad  table  witli 
a  scant  of  narrow  table-cloth  ;  which  every  man  is 
still  drawing  to  his  own  side,  though  he  pluck  his 
neighbour's  part  from  him  :  this  day  conies  with  a 
latal  voider,  and  takes  away  all,  cloth,  meat,  table, 
and  guests  too.  Thus  lar  together,  all  are  served 
alike ;  but  then  conies  the  diflerence.  All  men 
hope  w'ell,  and  think  themselves  good  ;  but  let  me 
tell  them  of  this  day,  as  Moses  did  those  rebellious 
Levites,  "  To-morrow  the  Lord  will  show  who  are 
His,  and  who  are  holy  "  (Numb.  xvi.  5).  A  com- 
mon hen,  together  with  her  own  eggs,  may  hatch 
the  eggs  of  eagles  that  are  laid  under  her;  but  when 
they  are  grown  up,  while  her  own  brood  keep  the 
base  earth,  those  of  a  higher  kind  fiy  upwards. 
This  world  breeds  us  all,  and  is  both  to  good  and 
bad  .1  common  mother  ;  but  when  that  great  day 
of  separation  comes,  all  they  that  are  begotten  of 
immortal  seed  shall  leave  their  mother,  and  take 
after  their  Father  ;  and  while  their  kindred  in  the 
flesh  sink  down  under  their  natural  corruptions, 
these  eagles  that  are  sprung  from  above,  shall  mount 
up  to  the  eternal  nest  ol  glory. 

— Adams,  1653. 

{3065.)  We  should  make  preparations  to  meet 
Him,  because  wlien  we  are  brought  before  Him  it 
will  be  too  late  to  do  what  is  necessary  to  be  done. 
The  path  up  to  the  judgment-seat  is  not  a  way  of 
preparation  ;  nor  at  His  bar  is  it  a  place  to  prepare 
for  eternity.  It  is  no  time  to  prejiare  for  battle 
when  the  enemy  is  in  the  camp  ;  no  time  to  make 
ready  to  meet  a  foe  when  he  has  broken  open  your 
door.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  putting  ofl  prejiara- 
tion  until  it  is  too  late.  A  man  may  neglect  the 
care  of  his  health,  until  it  is  too  late.  A  student 
may  suffer  the  proper  time  to  prepare  for  a  profes- 
sion to  glide  away,  until  it  is  too  late.  A  farmer 
may  neglect  to  plough  and  sow,  until  it  is  too  late. 
A  man  on  a  rapid  stream  near  a  cataract  may  neglect 
to  make  eflorls  to  reach  the  shore,  until  it  is  too  late. 
And  so  in  religion.  It  is  en'-v  to  pui  it  off  Irom 
chiidliood  to  yiiinli  ;  from  youth  to  manhood  ;  from 
manhood  to  old  age,  until  it  shall  be  too  late. 
Bevond  that  inierview  wiih  God,  there  is  no  pre- 
paration.    Vuur  cicrniiy  h,  not  lu  be  made  up  q{  9 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(    516    ) 


KNO  WLEDGE. 


scries  of  successive  probations,  where,  though  you 
tui  in  one,  you  may  avail  yourself  of  another. 

— Barnes^  1 798- 1 870. 

(3066.)  We  should  make  preparation,  because  we 
go  there  on  a  very  solemn  errand.  We  go  there 
not  as  idle  spectators  ;  not  to  behold  the  glory  of  the 
Divine  dwelling  and  throne  ;  not  as  we  often  travel 
to  other  lands  to  see  the  worhs  of  nature,  or  the 
monuments  of  art  ;  but  we  go  on  the  final  trial,  and 
with  reference  to  the  irreversible  doom  of  the  soul. 
A  man  who  is  soon  to  be  put  on  trial  for  his  life 
feels  that  much  must  be  done  with  reference  to  that 
important  day  in  his  existence  ;  and  mahes  the  pre- 
paration accordingly.  Everything  about  the  kind 
of  testimony  on  v\hich  he  can  rely  ;  everything 
in  the  law,  in  ihe  character  of  the  judge  and  of  the 
jury,  becomes  to  him  a  matter  of  moment,  and  lie 
looks  it  all  over  with  most  anxious  solicitude.  He 
who  should  have  the  prospect  of  such  a  trial  before 
him,  and  who  should  evince  the  same  unconcern  on 
these  points  wliich  the  mass  of  men  do  in  reference 
to  their  trial  before  God,  would  be  regarded  as  a 
fool  or  a  madman.  Should  we  go  into  his  cell  and 
find  him  engaged  in  blowing  up  bubbles,  or  in  some 
other  trifling  employment,  manifesting  the  utmost 
indifference  to  all  that  we  could  say  of  the  characier 
«f  the  judge  or  jury,  or  to  the  importance  of  being 
prepared  for  the  arraignment,  we  should  regard  him 
as  bereft  of  the  chaiaclerisiics  of  a  rational  being. 
On  the  issue  of  that  interview  with  God  depends 
eveiything  thai  is  dear  to  us  hereafter.  There  will 
not  be  a  moment  in  all  that  boundless  eteinily 
before  us  whicii  will  not  be  affected  by  the  results  of 
that  day's  investigation.  To  us  it  will  be  the  most 
solemn  moment  of  our  existence — a  period  to  be 
remembered  in  all  the  days  of  our  future  being — as 
it  should  be  anticipated  with  anxious  solicitude  m 
all  the  days  that  precede  it. 

— Barnes,  1798-1870. 


KNOWLEDGE. 

1.  SECULAR  AND  RELIGIOUS. 
\.  Is  founded  In  faith. 

(3067.)  All  knowledge,  of  whatsoever  kind,  must 
have  a  twofold  groundwork  of  faith, — one  subjec- 
tively, in  our  own  laculties,  and  the  laws  which 
govern  tliem  : — the  other  objectively,  in  the  matter 
submitted  to  our  observations.  We  must  believe  in 
the  being  who  knows,  and  in  that  which  is  known  ; 
knowledge  is  the  copula  of  these  two  acts.  Even 
scepticism  must  have  the  former,  lis  misfortune 
and  blunder  is,  that  it  will  keep  standing  on  one 
leg  ;  and  so  can  never  get  a  firm  footing.  We  must 
stand  on  both  before  we  can  walk,  although  the 
former  act  is  often  the  more  difficult. 

— Guesses  at  Truth. 

2.  Tbe  desire  of  knowledge. 

(1.)  Is  natural. 

(3068.)  The  desire  of  knowledge,  though  often 
animated  by  extrinsic  and  adventitious  motives, 
seems  on  many  occasions  to  operate  without  subor- 
dination to  any  other  principle  :  we  are  eager  to  see 
and  hear,  without  intention  of  referring  our  observa- 
tions to  a  fan  her  end  :  we  climb  a  mountain  for  a 
prospect  of  tiie  plain  ;  we  run  to  the  strand  in  a 
storm,  that  we  may  contemplate  the  agitation  of  the 
water  ;  we  range  from  city  to  city,  thouj^h  we  pro- 


fess neither  architecture  nor  fortification  ;  we  cross 
seas  only  to  view  nature  in  nakedness,  o"-  magnifi- 
cence in  ruins  ;  we  are  equally  allured  b;^  novelty  of 
every  kind,  by  a  desert  or  a  palace,  a  cataract  or  a 
cavern,  by  everything;  rude  and  everything  polished, 
everything  great  and  everything  litile  ;  we  do  not 
see  a  thicket  but  with  some  temptation  to  enter  it, 
nor  remark  an  insect  flying  before  us  but  with  an 
inclination  to  pursue  it. 

This  passion  is,  perhaps,  regularly  heightened  in 
proportion  as  the  powers  of  the  mmd  are  elevated 
and  enlarged.  — Dr.  S.  Johnson,,  1 709-1 784- 

(2.)  Is  insatiable. 

(3069.)  The  desire  of  knowledge,  like  the  thirst 
of  riches,  increases  ever  with  the  acquisition  of  it. 
— Sterne,  17 13- J  768. 

(3070.)  Knowledge  always  desires  increase  ;  it  is 
like  fire,  which  must  l.rst  be  kindled  bysome  external 
agent,  but  which  will  afterwards  propagate  itself. 
— Dr.  S.  Johnson,  1 709 -1 784. 

3.  How  It  may  be  best  acquired. 

(3071.)  They  who  would  advance  in  knowledge 
should  lay  down  this  as  a  fundamental  rule,  not  to 
take  words  for  things.  — Locke,  1632-1704. 

(3072.)  The  best  way  of  acquiring  most  branches 
of  knowledge  is  to  study  them,  if  possible,  for  some 
specific  object  or  occasion.  This  will  supply  the 
curiosity  with  a  pcnverful  stimulus,  and  communi- 
cate to  the  search  a  practical  character  essentially 
beneficial.  W.  B.  Cliilow. 

(3073.)  In  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  follow  it 
wherever  it  is  to  be  found;  like  fern  it  is  the  pro- 
duce of  all  climates,  and  like  coin,  its  circulation  is 
not  restricted  to  any  particular  class.  We  are 
ignorant  in  youth,  from  idleness,  and  we  continue 
so  in  manhood  from  pride  ;  for  pride  is  less  ashamed 
of  being  ignorant,  than  of  Ijeini;  instructed,  and  she 
looks  too  high  to  find  that  whicli  very  often  lies 
beneath  her.  Therefore  condescend  to  men  of  low 
estate,  and  be  for  wisdom  that  which  Alcibiades 
was  for  power.  He  that  rings  only  one  bell  will 
hear  only  one  sound  ;  and  he  that  lives  only  with 
one  class  will  see  but  one  scene  of  the  great  drama 
of  life.  Mr.  Locke  was  asked  how  he  had  contrived 
to  accumulate  a  mine  of  knowledge  so  rich,  yet  so 
extensive  and  so  deep  :  he  replied,  that  he  attributed 
what  little  he  knew,  to  the  not  having  been 
ashamed  10  ask  for  information  ;  and  to  the  rule  he 
had  laid  down,  of  conversing  with  all  descriptions 
of  men,  on  those  topics  chiefly  that  formed  their 
own  peculiar  professions  or  pursuits.  I  myself  have 
heard  a  common  blacksmitli  eloquent,  when  weUi- 
ing  of  iron  has  been  the  theme  ;  for  what  we  know 
thoroughly,  we  can  usually  express  clearly,  since 
ideas  will  supply  words,  but  words  will  not  always 
supply  ideas.  Therefore  when  I  meet  with  any 
that  write  obscurely,  or  converse  confusedly,  I  am 
apt  to  suspect  two  things  ;  first,  thai  such  persons 
do  not  understand  themselves  ;  and,  secondly,  that 
they  are  not  worthy  of  being  understood  by  others. 

— Col  ton,  1832. 

4.  If  too  easily  gained,  is  soon  lost. 

(3074.)  In  common  life  a  remark  has  becoro* 
obvious,  that  the  fortune  which  is  bequeathed  or 
acquired  at  an  easy  rate,  is  more  likely  to  be  dis- 
sipated than  the  fruits  of  laborious  industry.     It  ta 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(    5'7    ) 


KNOWLEDGE. 


flo  likewise  in  learning.  Ideas  collected  without 
any  great  eflort,  make  but  a  slight  impression  on 
the  memory  or  the  imagination.  The  retleclion, 
that  they  may  be  recalled  at  pleasure,  prevents  any 
solicilutie  to  preserve  them.  But  the  remembrance, 
that  the  degree  ol  knowledge  already  acquired  has 
cost  us  dearly,  enhances  its  value,  and  excites  every 
precaution  to  prevent  it  from  being  lost.  I  would 
compare  the  learning  acquired  by  the  facilitating  aids 
of  m  'dern  invention,  to  the  vegeiabies  raised  in  a 
hot  bed  ;  which,  whatever  size  or  beauty  they  may 
attain  in  a  short  lime,  never  acquire  that  firmness 
and  durable  perfection,  which  is  gradually  collected 
by  the  slow  process  of  unassisted  nature. 

Knox,  1831. 

6.  How  It  Is  to  b«>  valued. 

(3075.)  Knowledge  is  to  be  valued  (as  all  crea- 
tures are)  accordiiv^  to  its  usefulness.  As  it  is  more 
honourable  to  know  how  to  govern  a  kingdom, 
command  an  army  or  navy,  or  save  men's  lives, 
than  to  make  a  ruMle  01  a  hobby-horse;  so  it  is 
ten  thousand lold  more  honourable,  to  know  how  to 
order  our  hearts  and  lives,  and  to  walk  willi  God, 
and  obtain  the  everlasftng  glory,  than  to  know  how 
to  get  riches,  and  pleasures,  and  vain  glory  of  the 
present  world.  — BaxUr,  161 5-1 691. 

(3076.)  As  a  pound  of  gold  more  enricheth  than 
many  loads  of  dirt,  so  a  little  knowledge  of  great 
and  necessary  matters  maketh  one  wiser  than  a 
great  deal  of  peilantic,  toyish  learning.  No  man 
liaih  time  and  ca|:acity  for  all  tilings  :  he  is  but  a 
proud  fool,  that  would  seen)  to  know  all,  and  deny 
his  ignorance  in  many  things. 

— Baxter,  161 5- 1 69 1. 

(3077.)  What  good  will  it  do  a  man  tormented 
with  the  gout,  01  stone,  or  by  miserable  poverty,  to 
know  the  names  of  various  herbs,  or  to  read  the 
titles  of  the  apothecaries  lioxes,  01  to  read  on  a 
sign-post,  "  Here  is  a  good  orthnary  ''  ?  And  what 
good  will  it  do  a  carnal,  utisanctified  soul  that 
must  be  in  hell  for  ever,  tc  know  the  Hebrew  roots 
or  points,  01  to  discourse  of  "  Cartesius's  Materia 
Subtilis,"  and  "(Jlobuii  .^therei,"  &c.  ?  Or  of 
"  Epicurus  and  Gassendus  Atoms,"  or  to  look  on 
the  planets  in  Galileus'  glasses,  while  he  casteth 
away  all  his  hopes  ol  heaven  by  his  unbelief,  and 
his  preferring  the  jjleasuies  of  the  flesh?  Will  it 
comlort  a  man  that  is  cast  out  of  God's  presence, 
and  condenuied  to  utlet  darkness,  to  remember  that 
he  was  once  a  good  mathematician,  or  logician,  01 
musician,  or  that  he  had  wit  to  get  riches  and 
preferments  in  the  woild,  and  to  climb  up  to  the 
heiglit  of  honour  and  dominion?  It  is  a  pitiful 
thmg  to  hear  a  man  boast  ol  his  wit,  while  he  is 
i^iailly  rejecting  the  only  felicity,  forsaking  God, 
esteeming  vanity,  and  damning  his  soul  :  ths  Lord 
deliver  us  from  such  wit  and  learning  ! 

— Baxltr,  161 5-1691. 

(3078.)  To  avoid  mistakes  and  cavils,  remember, 
that  1  take  no  true  knowledge  as  contemptible. 
And  when  I  truly  say  that  he  knoweth  nothing  as 
he  oujihl  to  knou,  that  doth  not  know  and  love  his 
God,  and  is  not  wise  to  his  duty  and  salvation,  yet 
if  this  funti  i mental  knowledge  be  presu|)posed,  we 
should  build  all  othei  useful  knowledge  on  it  to  the 
utmost  of  our  capacity  :  and  from  this  one  stock 
Hiay  s|)ring  and  spread  a  thuusantl  branches,  which 
Jiay  ail  bear  fruit.  1  woukl  put  no  limit  to  a  Chris- 
.ai  I 's  desires  and  endeavours  to  know,  but  that  be 


desire  to  know  only  useful  and  revealed  things. 
Every  degree  of  knowledge  tendeth  to  more  :  and 
every  known  fruit  befiiendeth  others  ;  and  like  hre, 
tendeth  to  the  spreading  of  our  knowledge,  to  all 
neighbour  truths  that  are  intelligible.  Ana  the 
want  of  acquaintance  with  some  one  truth  among  a 
hundred,  may  hinder  us  from  rightly  knowing  most 
of  the  rest,  or  may  breed  a  hundred  errors  in  us, 
As  the  absence  of  one  wheel  or  particle  in  a  watch, 
or  the  ignorance  of  it,  may  jnit  all  the  rest  into  a 
useless  disorder.  What  if  I  say  that  wisdom  lieth 
more  in  knowing  the  things  that  belong  to  salvation, 
to  |niblic  good,  to  life,  liealth  and  solid  comfort, 
than  in  knowing  how  to  sing,  or  play  on  the  lute, 
or  to  speak  or  carry  ourselves  with  commendable 
decency,  <.\:c.  It  doth  not  follow  that  all  these  are 
of  no  worth  at  all  ;  and  that  in  their  places  these 
little  matters  may  not  be  allowed  and  desired  :  for 
even  hair  and  nails  are  appurtenances  of  a  man, 
which  a  wise  man  would  not  be  without  ;  though 
they  are  small  matters  in  comparison  of  the  animal, 
vital,  and  nobler  parts.  And  indeed  he  that  can  see 
God  in  all  things  and  hath  all  this  sanctilied  by  the 
love  of  God,  should  above  all  men  value  each  par- 
ticle of  knowledge,  of  which  so  holy  a  use  may  be 
made  ;  as  we  value  every  grain  of  gold. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  Should  be  the  object  of  life-long  pursuit. 

(3079.)  He  that  would  make  a  real  progress  in 
knowleilge  must  dedicate  his  age  as  well  as  youth 
— the  latter  growth  as  well  as  the  first-fruits — at 
the  altar  of  truth.  — Beikeley,  1684-1753. 

(3080.)  It  is  no  more  possible  for  an  idle  man  to 
keep  together  a  certain  5tock  of  knowledge,  than  it 
is  possible  to  keep  logetlier  a  stock  of  ice  exposed 
to  the  meridian  sun.  Every  day  de.-'troys  a  fact,  ? 
relation,  or  an  inference  ;  and  the  only  way  of 
preserving  the  bulk  and  value  of  the  pile  is  by 
constantly  adding  to  it.  — Sydney  Smith. 

7.  Is  continually  enlarging:. 

(30S1.)  In  a  seeing  age,  the  very  knowledge  of 
former  limes  passes  but  lor  ignorance  in  a  better 
diess.  — Sonik,   1633-1716. 

8.  Yet  at  the  best  Is  very  limited. 

(3082  )  There  is  not  so  contemptible  a  plant  or 
animal  thai  does  not  confound  the  most  enlarged 
understanding.  — Locke,  1632-1704. 

9.  "  A  little  knowledge  Is  a  dangerous  thing." 

(3083.)  Pride  and  self-conceitedness  is  like  the 
barm  in  the  drink  that  seems  to  fdl  up  the  vessel,  but 
indeed  works  it  all  over  :  this  is  the  knowledge  that 
puHeth  up  (2  Cor.  viii.  1 1,  like  the  pot  that  by  iioiling 
seemeth  to  be  filled,  that  was  half  empty  before, 
but  it  is  empty  in  the  bottom,  and  presently  boils 
ovei,  and  is  emptier  than  before.  .So  is  it  witli  the 
self-conceited,  that  have  a  superficial  knowledge, 
while  they  are  empty  at  the  bottom,  and  by  the 
heat  of  pride,  that  little  they  have  I  vileth  over  to 
theii  loss.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3084.)  Though  in  some  sensible  matters  it  is 
easy  to  convince  men  of  a  total  ignorance,  yet 
when  they  know  anything,  it  is  hard  to  convince 
them  what  more  is  to  be  known,  and  to  keep 
them  frtmi  false  and  hasty  conclusions.  A  man 
that  cannot  read  at  all  is  easily  convinced  that  he 
cannot  read  ;  but  tie  that  can  read  a  Utile,  is  apt  to 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(    518    ) 


KNO  W  LEDGE. 


think  that  he  readeth  rightly  when  he  doth  not, 
A  man  that  never  heard  of  physic  is  easily  con- 
vinced that  he  hath  no  skill  in  it  ;  but  if  he  have 
read,  heard  of,  and  tried  a  few  medicines,  he  is  a[it 
to  grow  conceited  and  venture  men's  lives  upon  his 
skill.  A  man  that  never  saw  building,  navigation, 
or  any  art  or  manufacture,  is  easily  convinced  that 
he  is  ignorant  of  it  ;  but  if  he  have  got  son)e 
smattering  knowledge,  he  is  ready  to  think  that  it 
is  more  than  it  is,  because  he  knoweth  not  what 
he  wants.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(30S5.)  Some  men,  of  whom  I  wisli  to  speak  with 
great  re^ipect,  are  iiaunted,  as  it  seems  to  me,  with 
an  unreasonalile  fea;  of  what  they  call  superficial 
knowledge.  Knowledge,  they  say,  which  really 
deserves  the  name,  is  a  great  blessing  to  mankind, 
the  ally  of  virtue,  the  harbinger  of  freedom.  liut 
such  knowledge  must  be  profound.  A  crowd  of 
people  who  have  a  smattering  of  mathematics,  a 
smattering  of  astronomy,  a  smattering  of  chemistry, 
who  have  read  a  little  poetry  and  a  little  liistory,  is 
dangerous  to  the  commonwealth.  Such  half-know- 
ledge is  worse  than  ignorance.  And  then  the 
authority  of  Pope  is  vouched  :  Drink  deep,  or  taste 
not  ;  shallow  draughts  intoxicate  :  drink  largely  ; 
and  that  will  sober  you.  I  must  confess  that  the 
danger  which  alarms  these  gentlemen  never  seemed 
to  me  very  serious  ;  and  my  reason  is  this  :  that  I 
never  could  prevail  on  any  person  who  pronounced 
superficial  knowledge  a  curse  and  profound  know- 
ledge a  blessing  to  tell  me  what  was  his  standard  of 
profundity.  The  argument  proceeds  on  the  supposi- 
tion that  there  is  some  line  between  profound  and 
superficial  knowledge  similar  to  that  which  separates 
truth  from  falsehood.  1  know  of  no  such  line. 
When  we  talk  of  men  of  deep  science,  do  we  mean 
that  they  have  got  to  the  bottom  or  near  the  bottom 
of  science  ?  Do  we  mean  that  they  know  all  that 
is  capable  of  being  known  ?  Do  we  mean  even 
that  they  know  in  their  own  especial  department  all 
that  the  smatterers  of  the  ne.xt  generation  will  know  ? 
Wiiy,  if  we  compare  the  little  truth  that  we  know 
with  the  infinite  mass  of  truth  which  we  do  not  know, 
we  aie  all  shallow  together  ;  and  the  greatest  jjhilo- 
sophers  that  ever  lived  would  be  the  first  to  confess 
their  shallowness.  If  we  could  call  up  the  first  of 
human  beings,  if  we  could  call  up  Newton,  and  ask 
him  whether,  even  in  those  sciences  in  which  he 
had  no  rival,  he  considered  himself  as  profoundly 
knowing,  he  would  have  told  us  that  he  was  but  a 
smatterer  like  ourselves,  and  that  the  difference 
between  his  knovvleilge  and  ours  vanished  when 
compared  with  the  quantitv  of  truth  still  undis- 
covered, just  as  the  distance  between  a  ])er.son  at  the 
foot  of  Ben  Lomond  and  at  the  top  of  lien  Lomond 
vanishes  when  compared  with  the  distance  of  the 
fixed  stars.  — Macaulay,  180CK1859. 

10.  Why  It  should  be  sought. 

(30S6. )  The  mistaking  or  misplacing  of  the  last 
or  farthest  end  of  knowledge  is  the  greatest  error  of 
all  the  rest  :  For  men  have  entered  into  a  desire  of 
learning  and  knowledge,  sometimes  ujion  a  natural 
curiosity  and  inquisitive  appetite  ;  sometimes  to 
entertain  theii  minds  with  variety  and  delight  ; 
sometimes  for  ornament  and  reputation  :  and  some- 
times to  enable  them  to  obtain  the  victory  of  wit 
and  contradiction  ;  and  most  times  for  lucre  and 
profession  ; — but  seldom  sincerely  to  give  a  true 
account  of  their  gift  of  reason,  to  the  benefit  and 
use  of  men  :  As  if  theie  were  sought  in  knowledge,  i 


a  couch  whereupon  to  rest  a  searching  and  restless 
spirit  ;  or  a  terrace  for  a  wandering  and  variable 
mini!  to  walk  up  and  down  with  a  fair  prosiiect  ;  or 
a  tower  of  staie  for  a  proud  mind  to  raise  itself 
upon  ;  or  a  fort  or  commanding  ground  for  strife 
and  contention;  or  a  shop  for  profit  or  sale  ; — and 
not  a  rich  store-house  for  the  glory  of  the  Creator, 
and  the  relief  of  man's  estate. 

— Bacon,  1 560-1626. 

(3087.)  Seldom  was  ever  any  knowledge  given 
to  keep,  but  to  impart  :  the  grace  of  this  rich  jewel 
is  lost  in  concealment.  — IJall,  1574-1656. 

(308S).  \0n  the  sight  of  a  dark  lantern.'\ 

There  is  light,  indeed  ;  but  so  shut  up,  as  il 
it  were  not :  and  when  the  side  is  most  open, 
there  is  light  enough  to  give  direction  to  him  that 
bears  it,  none  to  others;  he  can  discern  another 
man,  by  that  light  which  is  cast  before  him  ;  but 
another  man  cannot  discern  him. 

Right  such  is  reserved  knowledge:  no  man  is  the 
better  for  it  but  the  owner.  There  is  no  outward 
difference  betwixt  concealed  skill  and  ignorance  : 
and  when  such  hidden  knowledge  will  look  forth, 
it  casts  so  sparing  a  light,  as  may  only  argue  it  to 
have  an  unprofitable  being  ;  to  have  ability,  without 
will  to  do  good  ;  power  to  censure,  none  to  benefit. 
The  su]ipression  or  engrossing  of  those  helps,  which 
God  would  have  us  to  impart,  is  but  a  thief's  lantern 
in  a  true  man's  hand. 

O  God,  as  all  our  light  is  from  Thee,  the  Father 
of  Lights,  so  make  me  no  niggard  of  that  poof 
rush-candle  Thou  hast  lighted  in  my  soul  :  make 
me  more  happy,  in  giving  light  to  others,  than  in 
receiving  it  into  myself.  — Hall,  1 574-1656, 

11.  An  important  caution  for  those  engaged  In 
Its  pursuit. 

(3089. )  The  knowledge  we  acquire  in  this  world, 
I  am  apt  to  think,  extends  not  beyond  the  limits  of 
this  life.  The  beatific  vision  of  the  other  life  needs 
not  the  help  of  this  dim  twilight  ;  but,  be  that  as  it 
will,  1  am  sure  the  princijial  end  why  we  are  to  get 
knowledge  here,  is  to  make  use  of  it  for  the  benefit 
of  ourselves  and  others  in  this  world  ;  but  if  by 
gaining  it  we  destroy  our  health,  we  labour  for  a 
thing  tiiat  will  be  useless  in  our  hands  ;  and  if  by 
harassing  our  bodies  (though  with  a  design  to  render 
ourselves  more  useful)  we  deprive  ourselves  of  the 
abilities  and  opportunities  of  doing  that  good 
we  might  have  done  with  a  meaner  talent,  wliich 
God  thought  sufficient  for  us,  by  having  denied  us 
the  strength  to  improve  it  to  that  pitch  which  men 
of  stronger  constitutions  can  attain  to,  we  rob  God 
of  so  much  service,  and  our  neighbour  of  all  that 
lielp  which  ill  a  state  of  health,  with  moderate 
knowledge,  we  might  have  been  able  to  perform. 
He  that  sinks  his  vessel  by  overloading  it,  though 
it  be  with  gi>ld  and  silver  and  precious  stones,  will 
give  his  owner  but  an  ill  account  of  his  voyage. 

— Locke,  1632-1704. 

12.  It  makes  men  htimhle. 

(3090.)  It  is  an  empty  knowledge,  and  falsely  so 
called,  that  puffs  up  ;  as  the  empty  ears  of  corn  are 
pert,  and  raise  up  themselves  ;  but  those  which  are 
big  and  full,  droop  and  hang  down  thtir  heads  ;  so 
it  is  only  ignorance  that  is  proud,  and  lifts  men  up; 
but  true  knowledge  makes  men  humble. 

—  'lillolson,  1 630- 1 694. 


KNOWLEDGE, 


(  519  ) 


KNOWLEDGE. 


ir.    RELIGIOUS  KNOWLEDGE, 

L.  In  What  It  consists. 

(3091.)  1  heartl  two  persons  on  the  Wengern  Alp 
Jalkins^  by  the  hour  together  of  the  names  of  feins  ; 
not  a  word  about  their  characteristics,  uses,  or  habits, 
but  a  tneiiley  of  crach-javv  titles,  and  nothing  nioie. 
They  evidently  felt  that  they  were  ventilating  their 
botany,  and  kept  each  other  in  counienance  by 
alternate  volleys  of  nonsense.  Well,  friend,  they 
were  about  as  sensible  as  those  doctrinali>ts  who 
for  ever  talk  over  the  technicalities  of  religion,  but 
know  nothing  by  experience  of  its  spirit  and  power. 
Are  we  not  ail  too  apt  to  amuse  ourselves  after  the 
same  fashion?  He  who  knows  mere  Linnrean  names, 
but  has  never  seen  a  flower,  is  as  reliable  in  botany, 
as  he  is  in  theology  who  can  descant  upon  supra- 
lapsarianism,  but  has  never  known  the  love  of  Christ 
in  his  heart. 

"True  religion's  more  than  doctrine. 
Something  must  be  known  and  felt." 

— Sptirgeon, 

(3092.)  Says  the  apostle,  "Add  to  your  faith,  or 
in  your  faith,  virtue;  in  other  words,  develop  out 
of  your  lailh  virtue — that  is,  practical  godliness  ; 
and  in  your  virtue,  or  from  out  of  your  virtue,  de- 
velop knowledge."  By  this  is  not  meant,  evidently, 
that  knowledge  which  we  gather  by  our  senses  — 
scientitic  knowledge,  ideas,  facts  ;  but  a  higher 
knowledge — that  subtle  intuition  of  truth  which 
men  have  who  live  high  and  noble  lives.  A  man 
of  great  conscience  has  a  sense,  a  knowledge,  of 
principle  which  is  higher  than  any  law  or  custom 
can  point  out.  A  man  who  cultivates  his  taste  has 
a  finer  sense  and  knowledge  of  beauty  than  a  man 
who  does  not.  A  man  who  dwells  largely  in  figures 
and  mathematics  has  a  sense  of  numbers  and  pro- 
portions which  does  not  belong  toother  men.  The 
knowledge  which  is  spoken  of  here  is  that  know- 
ledge which  is  in  the  nature  of  moral  intuition. 

— Beecher. 

2.  Is  not  naturally  desired  by  men. 

(3093. )  It  is  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  inestimable 
treasure  of  Christian  truth  antl  religious  knowledge, 
that  the  more  it  is  withheld  from  people,  the  less 
ttiey  wish  for  it  ;  and  the  more  is  bestowed  upon 
them,  the  more  they  hunger  and  thirst  after  it.  If 
people  are  kept  upon  a  short  allowance  of  food,  they 
are  eager  to  obtain  it  ;  if  you  keep  a  man  thirsty, 
he  will  become  the  more  and  more  thirsty  ;  if  he  is 
poor,  he  is  exceedingly  anxious  to  become  rich  ;  but 
if  he  is  lelt  in  a  state  of  spiritual  destitution,  he  will, 
and  still  more  his  children,  cease  to  feel  it,  and 
cease  to  care  about  it.  It  is  the  last  want  men  can 
be  trusted  (in  the  first  instance)  tc  supply  for  them- 
selves. —  WhaUly,  17S7- iii63. 

3.  How  it  is  to  be  acquired. 
(1.)  By  diligent  study. 

(3094.)  Study  hard  and  search  diligently  and 
deej'ly,  and  that  with  unwearied  patience  and 
delight.  Unpleasant  studies  tire  and  seldom  pros- 
per. Slight  running  thoughts  accomplish  little.  If 
any  man  think  that  the  Spirit  is  given  to  save  us 
the  labour  of  hard  and  long  studies,  Solomon  hath 
spent  so  many  chapters  in  calling  them  to  dig,  ay, 
seaich,  labour,  wait  for  wisdom,  that  if  that  will 
not  undeceive  thern,  I  cannot.  They  may  as  well 
say,  that  Cod's  blessing  is  to  save  the  husbandman 
tli*  labcur  ol  ploughing  and  sowing   and  that  the 


Spirit  is  given  to  save  men  the  labour  of  learning  to 
read  the  Hible,  or  to  hear  it,  or  to  think  of  it,  or  to 
pray  to  Cud.  Whereas  the  Spirit  is  given  us  to 
provoke  and  enable  us  to  stud)  hard,  and  read,  and 
hear,  and  pray  hard,  and  to  prosper  us  herein. 

— Baxter,  1615-169I. 

(2.)  By  systematic  an  I  orderly  study, 
(3095.)  In  common  matters,  you  can  see  that  you 
must  learn  ami  do  things  in  their  due  order,  or  else 
you  will  but  make  louls  of  yourselves.  Will  you  gc 
to  the  top  of  the  stairs  or  ladder  without  beginning 
at  the  lower  steps?  Will  you  sow  your  ground 
before  you  manure  or  plough  it  ?  or  can  you  reap 
before  you  sow  it?  Will  you  ride  youi  colt  before 
you  break  him  ?  Will  you  rear  a  house  before  you 
frame  it  ?  Or  will  you  teach  your  children  Hebrew 
and  Creek  and  Latin  before  they  learn  English  ? 
or  to  read  the  hardest  books  before  they  learn  the 
easiest  ?  Or  can  they  read  before  they  learn  to 
spell,  or  know  their  letters?  No  more  can  you 
learn  the  difficult  controversies  in  divinity  (as  aliout 
the  exposition  of  obscure  prophecies,  or  doctrinal 
doubts)  till  you  have  taken  up  before  you  those 
many  great  and  necessary  truths  that  lie  between. 
It  would  make  a  wise  man  pity  them,  and  be 
ashamed  to  hear  them,  when  young,  raw,  self- 
conceited  professors  will  fall  into  confident  exposi- 
tions of  Daniel,  the  Revelations,  or  the  Canticles, 
or  such  like,  or  into  disputes  about  free-will,  01 
predestination,  or  about  the  many  controversies  o\ 
the  times,  when,  alas  !  they  are  ignorant  of  a  hundred 
truths  (about  the  covenants,  justification,  and  the 
like)  which  must  be  known  before  they  can  reach 
the  rest  1  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3.)  By  giving  our  closest  and  most  constant 
attention  to  the  iiiost  important  truths. 

(3096.)  You  must  grow  into  a  higher  esteem  o) 
truths.  All  this  you  have  to  do  besides  your  grow- 
ing in  the  number  of  truths.  And  1  must  tell  you, 
that  as  it  was  the  essentials  of  Christianity  that 
were  the  instrumental  causes  of  your  first  con- 
version, and  more  needful  and  useful  to  you 
than  ten  thousand  others,  so  it  is  the  very  same 
points  that  you  must  always  live  upon,  and  the  con- 
firmation and  growth  of  your  souls  in  these,  will  be 
more  useful  to  you  than  the  adding  of  ten  thousand 
more  truths,  which  yet  you  know  not.  And,  there- 
fore, take  this  advice,  as  you  love  your  peace  and 
growth ;  neglect  not  to  know  more,  but  bestow 
many  and  many  hours  in  labouring  to  know  better 
the  great  truths  which  you  have  received,  for  one 
hour  that  you  hestow  in  seeking  to  know  more 
truths  which  you  know  not  ;  believe  it,  this  is  the 
safe  and  thriving  way.  ...  If  you  had  already  a 
hundred  pounds  in  gold,  and  not  a  penny  of  silver, 
it  will  more  enrich  you  to  have  another  purse  full 
of  gold,  than  a  purse  full  of  silver.  Trading  in 
the  richest  commodities,  is  likelier  to  raise  men 
to  gi  eater  estates,  than  trading  for  matters  of  a 
smaller  rate.  They  that  go  to  the  Indies  for  gold 
and  pearls,  may  be  rich  if  they  get  but  little  in 
quantity  ;  when  he  may  be  poor  that  brings  home 
shi|js  laden  with  the  greatest  store  of  poor  com- 
modity. That  man  that  hath  a  double  measure  ol 
the  knowledge  of  Cod  in  Christ,  and  the  cleaiest, 
and  deepest,  and  most  effectual  apprehensions  ol 
the  riches  of  grace  and  the  glory  to  come,  and  yet 
never  heard  of  mo^^t  of  the  questions  in  Scotus,  01 
Ockam,  or  Aquiiias's  sums  is  far  richer  m  kuow« 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(  520  ) 


KNOWLEDGE. 


*edge,  and  a  much  wiser  man,  than  be  that  hatli 
those  controversies  at  his  finger's  ends,  and  yet 
hath  but  hall  his  clearness  and  solidity  of  the 
knowledge  of  God  and  Christ,  of  grace  and  glory. 
Those  be  not  the  wisest  men  that  can  answer  most 
questions  ;  but  those  that  have  the  fullest  intellectual 
reception  of  the  infinite  wisdom.  You  will  confess 
that  he  is  a  wiser  man  that  hath  wisdom  to  get 
and  rule  a  kingdom,  than  he  that  hath  wit  enough 
to  talk  of  a  himdred  trivial  matters,  which  the  other 
is  ignorant  of.  That  is  the  wisest  physician  that 
can  do  most  to  save  men's  lives  ;  and  not  he  that 
can  best  read  a  lecture  of  anatomy,  or  is  readiest  in 
the  terms  of  his  art.  Knowledge  is  to  be  esteemed 
according  to  the  use  of  it,  and  the  dignity  of  its 
object, and  not  according  to  the  number  and  subtlety 
of  notions.  And,  therefore,  I  beseech  you  all,  that 
are  young  and  weak  in  the  faith,  take  much  more 
pains  to  grow  in  the  fuller  acquaintance  with  that 
same  faith  which  you  have  received,  than  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  smaller  controversial  truths  which  you 
never  knew.  — Baxter^  1615-1691. 

4.  Should  be  ever  Increasing. 

(3097.)  Rest  not  in  thy  present  knowledge  ;  'tis 
like  thou  know'st  much  to  what  once  thou  didst, 
but  thou  know'st  little  to  what  tliou  mayest.  Some 
books  are  learnt  at  one  reading,  but  the  gospel  is 
a  mysleiy  that  will  take  up  more  than  thy  life-lime 
to  unilerstand  it.  Mysteries  are  here  sown  thick  ; 
thou  (liggest  where  the  springs  rise  faster  upon  thee, 
the  further  thou  goest.  God  tells  not  all  His  secrets 
at  once  ;  "here  a  little  and  there  a  little;"  "  men  shall 
run  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  shall  be  increased." 
The  merchant's  ship  takes  not  in  all  her  lading  at  one 
port,  but  s;iils  from  one  to  another  for  it  ;  neither  doth 
the  Christian  enrich  himself  with  this  heavenly 
treasure  all  at  one  time,  or  in  one  ordinance.  The 
true  lover  of  learning  gives  not  over  his  chase  and 
pursuit  for  a  little  smattering  knowledge  he  gets, 
but  rather  having  got  the  scent  how  sweet  learning 
is,  puts  on  with  fuller  cry  for  what  he  wants.  The 
true  doctor  studies  harder  than  the  fresh-man,  be- 
cause as  he  knows  more  of  learning,  so  by  that 
knowledge  he  understands  his  own  deficiency 
better  ;  for  the  higher  he  ascends  the  hill  of  learn- 
ing, the  more  his  prospect  enlargeth,  while  the 
other  standing  at  the  bottom,  thinks  he  knows  all 
in  his  little.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3098.)  The  tree  that  does  not  thrive  will  soon 
rot,  and  the  tradesman  that  loes  not  increase  his 
stock  will  soon  be  out  at  heels,  and  he  that  does  not 
improve  his  knowledge  will  prove  a  spiritual  bank- 
rupt. And  such  a  wilful  darkness  which  men  bring 
upon  themselves  by  their  perversity,  is  but  one  step 
from  destruction.  The  plague  of  darkness  upon 
the  Egyptians  did  immediately  precede  the  slaying 
of  their  first-born,  and  the  destruction  of  the  flower 
of  their  militia  in  the  Red  Sea. 

—  Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(3099.)  Let  us  increase  tlie  knowledge  of  whole 
God  and  whole  Christ.  View  all  the  perfections  of 
God  Be  not  only  intent  upon  some  of  the  first 
magnitude,  but  on  those  that  seem  the  lesser  sparks, 
which  have  an  influence  one  time  or  other  upon  the 
souls  and  lives  of  men.  lie  is  not  wortliy  of  the 
name  of  an  astronomer,  who  gazes  only  upon  one  or 
two  plcnets,  with  a  neglect  of  the  rest,  which  have 
their  particular  excellency  as  well  as  the  other  hea- 
venly bodies.     As  there  ii  nothirg  in  the  heavens,  so 


there  is  nothing  in  God  and  Christ  but  is  worthy  of 
our  understanding  and  consideration,  and  affords 
matter  of  instruction  and  matter  of  consolation  one 
time  or  other.  Let  us  not  satisfy  ourselves  with  a 
knowledge  of  God  in  the  mass;  a  glance  upon  a 
picture  never  directs  you  to  the  discerning  the  worth 
and  art  of  it.  — Charttock,  1628-1680. 

(3100.)  All  true  knowledge  is  alluring.  The  first 
sight  of  a  mystery  is  transporting,  and  also  alluring 
to  a  further  inquiry.  "A  wise  man  will  hear  and 
will  increase  learning ;"  he  will  arise  to  more  sublime 
thoughts  and  discoveries.  He  will  be  adding,  as  in 
arithmetic,  figure  to  figure  till  he  comes  to  a  just 
sum,  deducing  one  rule  from  another  till  he  come 
to  the  utmost  ;  as  the  branch  grows  from  the  body 
of  the  tree,  and  one  branch  from  another.  It  is  the 
nature  of  all  true  knowledge  to  sharpen  the  mind 
far  more.  He  that  has  found  a  mine  will  follow 
the  vein  till  he  masters  it.  The  scholar  that  has  a 
taste  of  any  curious  learning  will  not  leave  the  pur- 
suit till  he  has  pierced  into  the  bowels  of  it,  and  by 
turning  ovei  books,  and  stretching  his  thoughts,  has 
increased  his  stock.  It  is  also  the  natuie  of  spiritual 
knowledge  to  put  an  edge  upon  the  appetite,  and 
0]ien  the  understanding  wider,  that  it  may  be  filled 
with  more.  The  voice  of  it  is  that  of  the  grave, 
Give,  give.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(3101.)  We  find  persons  acquainted  with  the 
fundamental  doctrines  of  religion,  and  we  are  glad. 
But  a  year  afterwards  we  converse  with  them  again, 
and  find  them  just  the  same.  Two  years  elapse, 
and  we  come  into  contact  with  them  again,  but  still 
no  progress  can  be  perceived,  till  at  length  the  sight 
of  them  reminds  us  of  a  piece  of  wood-work  carved 
in  the  form  of  a  tree,  rather  than  a  living  production 
of  nature  ;  for  there  are  no  fresh  shoots,  nor  any 
new  foliage  to  be  seen  :  on  the  contrary,  the  very 
same  modes  of  speech,  the  same  views  and  senti- 
ments upon  every  point,  and  the  same  limited  sphere 
of  spiritual  conception  ;  no  enlarged  expansion  of 
the  inward  horizon  ;  not  a  single  addition  to  the 
treasury  of  Christian  knowledge.  —Salter, 

(3102.)  It  is  melancholy  to  observe  how  content 
certain  followers  of  the  Saviour  are  with  the  "  first 
princii)les  of  the  oracles  of  God. "  They  stop  at  the 
alphabet  of  theology.  The  barest  elements  in  the 
glorious  science  of  Christian  doctrine  are  all  that 
they  have,  and  with  these,  strange  to  say,  they  are 
perfectly  satisfied.  They  look  upon  the  liible  as  a 
shallow,  small  pond,  which  they  have  netted  and 
dragged  to  such  an  extent  as  to  have  exhausted  it  of 
its  treasures.  Is  that  a  fair  representation  of  God's 
word?  It  is  rather  like  the  great  Atlantic,  fathom- 
less in  some  parts,  and  containing  more  than  has 
ever  been  brought  out  of  it.  It  is  a  "  mountain  of 
the  Lord  "  whose  summit  is  far  from  us,  whose  lofti- 
est heights  we  have  not  reached. 

"  Upward  we  press,  the  air  is  clear. 
And  the  sphere-music  heard  ; 
The  Lord  hath  yet  more  light  and  truth 
To  break  forth  from  His  word." 

However  long  we  may  have  studied  the  Scrip- 
tures, there  is  much  still  for  us  to  discuss.  \\  hen 
M  ichael  Angelo  was  an  old  man  he  was  found  by  a 
carilinal  walking  in  the  Coliseum,  solitary  amidst  its 
ruins.  When  asked  what  he  was  doing,  the  aged 
sculptor  replied,  "  I  go  yet  to  school,  that  1  may 
continue  to  learn."     Even  so,  however  advanced  in 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(    52X  ) 


KNOWLEDGE, 


life  we  may  be,   there  is  sometliing  for  us  still  to 
iearn  in  the  Coliseum  of  revelaiioii. 

—  T.  R.  Stevenson. 

6.  Should  be  reduced  to  practice. 

(3'03  )  1  lie  end  of  all  arts  and  sciences  is  the 
practice  of  them.  And  as  this  is  to  be  confessed  in 
all  other  arts,  so  it  cannot  be  denied  in  divinity  and 
religion,  the  practice  whereof  doth  in  excellency 
surmount  the  knowledge  and  theory,  as  being  the 
main  end  whereunto  it  tends.  For  to  what  purpose 
do  men  spend  their  spirits  and  tire  their  wits  in  dis- 
cerning the  light  of  truth,  if  they  do  not  use  the 
benefit  of  it  to  direct  them  in  all  their  ways? 

Why  do  they  rise  betimes  to  see  the  sun,  if  they 
mean  to  sit  idly  still  and  do  nothing,  which  better 
suits  with  palpable  and  Egyptian  darkness? 

Why  do  they  with  such  care  and  labour  heap  up 
these  rich  treasures  of  learning  and  knowledge,  if, 
miser-like,  they  only  look  ui)()n  them,  and  never 
make  use  of  them  for  the  benefit  of  themselves  and 
others  ? 

Why  do  they  spend  their  whole  lives  in  sowing 
the  seed,  and  never  reap  the  crop?  Or  having 
brought  in  the  harvest  and  filled  their  barns  and 
granaries,  what  good  will  all  this  do  them,  if  they 
let  it  there  must  and  mould,  and  never  eat  the  fruit 
of  their  labours?  — Downame,  1642. 

(5104.)  How  vain  is  their  practice  who  spend  all 
their  strength  in  polemical  disputes,  to  evince  error, 
and  find  out  the  truth,  if,  when  they  have  found  it, 
they  will  not  walk  in  this  light,  nor  let  it  be  the 
guide  of  their  lives  !  Like  herein  to  foolish  boys 
who  strive  for  a  ball,  which  when  they  have  got- 
ten with  much  sweat,  and  have  no  competitor  to 
contend  furUn-r  for  it,  they  cast  into  a  corner  with 
careless  neglect ;  or  having  fought  even  unto  blood  to 
beat  others  off  a  mole  hdl,  as  from  a  fort  of  strength, 
make  no  further  use  of  it  when  they  have  gotten  quiet 
possession.  — Downatne,  1642. 

(3105.)  Hearty  obedience  will  not  only  show  that 
your  religion  is  deeper  than  mere  opinion,  but  it 
will  also  advance  it  to  a  greater  purity,  and  root  it 
more  deeply  than  it  was  before.  A  man  that  hath 
studied  the  art  of  navigation  in  his  closet,  may  talk 
o.*"  it  almost  as  well  as  he  that  hath  been  at  sea  ; 
but  when  he  comes  to  practise  it  he  will  fiml  that 
he  is  far  to  seek  ;  but  let  this  man  go  to  sea, 
and  join  practice  and  experience  to  his  theory,  and 
then  he  may  have  a  knowledge  of  the  right  kind. 
So,  if  a  man  that  hath  only  read  over  military  books, 
would  be  a  true  soldier  ;  or  a  man  that  hath  only 
stuilied  physic,  would  be  a  true  physician,  what 
better  way  is  there,  than  to  fall  to  practice?  And 
so  you  must,  if  you  would  have  a  religion  that  shall 
save  your  souls,  and  not  only  a  religion  that  will 
furnish  you  with  good  opinions  and  expressions. 
— Baxter^  1615-1691. 

(3106.)  Knowledge  and  practice  do  mutually 
promote  one  another.  Knowledge  prepares  and 
disjMiseth  for  practTce,  and  practice  is  the  l;est  way 
to  perfect  knuwledge  in  any  kind.  ]\iere  specula- 
tion is  a  very  raw  and  rude  thing  in  comparison  of 
that  true  and  distinct  knowledge  which  is  gotten 
by  practice  and  experience.  The  most  exact  skill 
in  geiigrapliy  is  nothing  compared  with  the  know- 
ledge ol  that  man,  who,  besides  the  speculative 
part,  hath  trav  lied  over  and  carefulJ"  vie^ved  the 
countries  he  hath  read  c  f.     The  most  knowing  man 


in  the  art  and  rules  of  navigation  is  nobody  in  Com- 
parison of  an  experienced  pilot  antl  seaman.  Be- 
cause knowledge  perfected  by  practice  is  as  much 
different  from  mere  speculation,  as  the  skill  of  do- 
ing a  thing  is  from  being  told  how  a  thing  is  to  be 
done.  For  men  may  easily  mistake  rules,  but  fre- 
quent practice  and  experience  are  seldom  deceived, 
(jive  me  a  man  that  constantly  does  a  thing  well, 
and  that  shall  satisfy  me  that  he  kn«ws  how  to  do 
it.  That  saying  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  "If  any 
man  will  do  my  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine 
whether  it  be  of  God,  or  whether  I  speak  of  myself," 
is  a  clear  determination  of  this  matter,  namely,  that 
they  understand  the  will  of  God  best  who  are  most 
careful  to  do  it.  And  so  likewise  the  best  way  to 
know  what  God  is,  is  to  transcribe  His  perfectioiiS 
in  our  lives  and  actions,  to  be  holy,  and  just,  and 
good,  and  merciful  as  He  is. 

—  Tillotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

(3107.)  How  vain  is  knowledge  without  practice  I 
as  if  one  should  know  a  sovereign  medicine  and  not 
apply  it.  — IValson,  1696. 

(3108.)  What  is  it  to  hear  one's  duty,  and  no( 
do  it  ?  As  if  a  physician  write  a  good  prescription 
but  the  patient  doth  not  take  it. 

—  IValson,  1696. 

(3109.)  Many  a  man's  knowledge  is  a  torch  to 
light  him  to  hell.  Thou  who  hast  knowledge  of 
God's  will,  but  doth  not  do  it,  wherein  dost  thou 
excel  an  hypocrite  ?  Nay,  wherein  dost  thou  excel 
the  devil,  "  who  transforms  himself  into  an  angeJ 
of  light?"  — I^VcUspM,  i6g6. 

(3110. )  In  the  region  of  revealed  truth,  increas- 
ing knowledge  will  not  always  be  increasing  con- 
viction, unless  that  knowledge  be  progressively 
reduced  to  jiractice.  If  knowledge  be  merely 
speculative,  in  extending  it  a  man  may  only  "  in- 
crease sorrow  ;"  for  it  is  "  with  the  heart  that  man 
believeth  unto  righteousness,  '  and  it  is  to  the 
"doers"  of  His  Father's  will  that  the  Saviour 
promises  assuring  knowledge  ol  His  own  •' ilocirine." 
The  mind  needs  t(jnics.  For  the  body,  next  to 
wholesome  food,  the  best  toning  is  vigorous  exercise  ; 
and  if  long  crndled  in  a  luxurious  repose,  the 
penalty  is  paid  at  last  in  so  many  imaginary  ills  as 
constitute  a  real  one.  And  just  as  the  child  of 
sloth  is  haunted  by  visionary  fears,  as  he  dreads 
that  his  pulse  will  stop  or  the  firmament  fall  in  : 
so  the  man  who  arrests  his  moral  activities  and  lets 
his  fancy  wander  at  its  will  ;  ilie  man  who  is  doing 
no  service  to  God  and  no  good  in  the  world  will 
soon  become  an  intellectual  h)pocliondriac. 

—  hamilton,  1814-1S67. 

(31 1 1.)  Beware  of  letting  the  head  grow  at  a 
great  rale  while  the  arm  is  shrivelled.  Knowledge 
involves  a  responsibility  which  will  end  in  manj 
stripes  for  disooetiience.  It  is  treason  for  a  com- 
mander to  be  well  versed  in  military  tactics,  and  to 
be  great  in  arms,  and  yet  to  reluso  to  defend  his 
country  and  suffer  the  empire  to  go  to  ruin.  Practi- 
cal Christianity  alone  is  true  Christianity. 

— Spurgeon. 

6.  Divorced  from  experience  and  practice  la 
worthless, 

(31 12.)  The  thoughtless  man,  even  if  he  can 
recite  a  large  portion  (of  tbe  law),  but  is  not  a  doet 


KNO IVLEDGE. 


(    522     ) 


KNO  IVLEDGE. 


of  it,  has  no  share  in  the  priesthood,  but  is  like  a 
cowherd  counting  the  cows  of  others. 

— Buddha. 

(31 13.)  It  is  well  known  that  the  great  doctors  of 
the  world  by  much  reading  and  speculation  attain 
to  a  great  height  of  knowletige,  but  seldom  to 
sound  wisdom,  which  has  given  way  to  that  com- 
mon proverb,  "The  greatest  clerks  are  not  always 
the  wisest  men."  It  is  not  the  studying  of  politics 
that  will  make  a  man  a  wise  counsellor  of  state,  till 
his  knowledge  is  joined  with  experience,  which 
teaches  where  tl  e  rules  of  state  hold,  and  where 
they  fail.  It  is  n  )t  book-knowledge  that  will  make 
a  good  general,  a  skilful  pilot,  no  not  so  much  as  a 
cunning  artisan,  till  that  knowledge  is  perfected  by 
praciice  and  experience.  And  so  surely,  though  a 
man  abound  never  so  much  in  literal  knowledge,  it 
will  be  far  from  making  him  a  good  Christian, 
unless  he  bring  precepts  into  practice,  and  by  feel- 
ing experience  apply  that  he  knows  to  his  o«  n  use 
and  spiritual  advantage.      — Josktia  Skuie,  1629. 

(31 14.)  As  he  is  not  rightly  called  a  rich  man  that 
can  tell  how  and  by  what  means  a  man  may  be 
exceeding  rich,  but  he  that  hath  riches  of  his  own  : 
so  he  is  not  a  good  Christian  that  can,  according  to 
knowledge,  dispute  and  reason  of  virtue  and  godli- 
ness, and  can  describe  anil  define  the  same  ;  but  he 
that  is  endued  wiih  virtue  and  possessed  with  true 
godliness,  and  doth  most  willingly  practise  the  same 
in  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 

—  Cawdray,  I S98- 1 664. 

(31 15.)  You  read  of  the  heathens,  when  they 
lacrificed  to  their  gods,  they  were  wont  to  hang  a 
garland  upon  the  head  of  the  beasts,  and  to  crown 
them  with  roses;  so  they  were  led  on  to  sacritice. 
Many  may  have  garlands  upon  their  heads,  orna- 
ments of  knowledge,  yet  are  going  on  to  destruction. 
— Alanton,  1 620- 1667. 

(31 16.)  Experimental  knowledge  is  the  true 
ballast  of  the  soul,  when  mere  sound  and  air  is  a 
rolling  and  moveable  thing.  Mere  head  professors 
are  as  light  as  a  cork  dancing  upon  eveiy  dash  of 
water.  — Lharnock,  1628-1680. 

(3 1 1 7.)  Desire  after  God  springs  not  from  a  bare 
speculation,  but  a  strong  impression,  a  spiritual 
taste  ;  for  a  bare  speculation  has  no  more  strength 
tD  make  a  motion  in  the  will  than  the  poetical  de- 
scriptions of  far  countries  can  persuade  a  potent 
prince  to  take  a  long  voyage  lor  the  conquest,  or  a 
merchant  to  venture  his  stock  thither  for  a  trade. 
— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(31 18.)  A  knowledge  of  God  by  revelation  the 
Jews  had  in  the  Old  Testament,  who  yet  rejected 
the  Son  of  God  ;  a  knowledge  of  Christ  many 
lenrned  men  professing  Christianity  have,  who  know 
Christ  in  the  bark  ol  the  letter,  not  in  the  sap  of 
the  sj'irit  :  as  the  Jews  know  Ilim  under  the  veil 
of  tyjies,  but  were  ignorant  of  His  person  when  Me 
came  among  them,  'i'his  is  such  a  knowledge  which 
men  have  of  a  beautilul  picture,  or  a  comely 
person  with  whom  they  have  no  acquaintance  ;  or 
as  an  astronomer  knows  the  stars  without  receiving 
any  more  special  influence  from  them  than  other 
men,  or  the  inanimate  creatures. 

— Ckarnock,  1628  -1680. 

(3119.)  A  man  may  be  theologically  knowing 
and  suiritually  ignorant.     Nicodemus  was  none  of 


the  lowest  sect,  a  Pharisee,  nor  of  the  lowest  form 
among  them,  a  ruler  among  them,  had  the  know- 
ledge of  the  law  above  tiie  vulgar,  yet  was  ignorant 
of  the  design  of  the  Messiah,  and  the  mystery  of 
the  new  birth.  A  man  may  be  excellent  in  the 
grammar  of  the  Scripture,  yet  not  understand  the 
spiritual  sense  of  it.  As  a  man  may  have  so  much 
Latin  as  to  construe  a  physician's  bill,  and  tell  the 
names  of  the  plants  mentioned  in  it,  yet  understand 
nothing  of  the  particular  virtues  of  those  plants,  or 
have  any  pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of  them  ; 
so  we  may  discourse  of  God,  and  the  perfections  of 
God,  and  the  intendments  of  the  great  things  of 
Christ,  without  a  sense  of  them.  Though  this  be 
a  good  i)reparatory  to  a  spiritual  knowledge,  yet  is 
insufficient  of  itself  without  some  further  addition. 
It  does  not  heal  the  soul's  eye,  nor  chase  away  the 
spiritual  darkness.  — Charttock,  1628- 16S0. 

(3120.)  The  highest  rational  knowledge  of  God 
cannot  profit  without  the  knowledge  of  faith.  This 
general  and  common  knowledge  of  Christ  is  but  a 
knowing  after  the  flesh,  not  in  the  power  of  His 
Spirit,  and  can  no  more  advantage  than  the  Jews 
knowing  Him,  or  Judas  his  living  with  Him,  did 
them  or  him  without  believing.  In  the  Scripture, 
Christians  are  not  called  knowing  persons,  but 
believers.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  a  physician  to  con- 
sider the  nature  of  a  medicine,  and  pierce  into  the 
quality  of  each  ingredient  in  it  ;  but  if  he  be  invaded 
by  the  disease  for  which  that  medicine  is  proper, 
all  his  knowledge  of  it  and  delight  in  it  will  jje  no 
sujiport  to  his  body,  unless  he  takes  it  and  joins  it 
in  a  close  contest  with  the  distemper.  All  the 
pleasure  he  has  had  in  the  search  and  contempla- 
tion of  it,  and  the  ex|ierience  of  the  strength  of  it 
upon  his  patients,  will  not  check  tl]e  malady  of  his 
vitals,  or  stop  the  rage  of  the  humour,  though  his 
knowledge  were  as  large  as  .Solomon's,  without 
application  of  the  remetly.  Christ  is  the  remedy 
for  our  spiritual  diseases,  faith  is  the  application. 

A  man  is  no  more  a  Christian  by  knowing  the 
nature  of  God  and  Christ  in  a  notional  way,  or 
being  able  to  unfold  the  mysteries  of  redemption  in 
generous  strains,  than  a  pliilosopher,  who  can  dis- 
course accurately  of  the  nature  ol  metals  and  jewels, 
can  be  said  to  be  rich,  when  he  has  never  a  penny 
m  his  purse.  The  knowledge  entitles  him  to  a 
natural  wisdom,  but  the  possession  to  wealth.  I( 
he  were  a  slave  in  the  galleys,  the  riches  of  his 
knowledge  would  never  strike  off  the  weight  of  his 
chains.  One  jewel  in  possession  to  pay  for  his 
reilemption  would  be  of  more  value  than  all  his 
piiilosophy.  And  just  such  a  person  is  he  that 
delights  in  the  knowledge  of  his  bags  and  quantity 
ol  goki,  but  makes  not  application  of  it  to  his  pre- 
sent indigences;  it  is  as  if  he  had  none,  but  were 
the  poorest  beggar  that  craves  an  alms  from  door 
to  door.  There  is  as  great  difference  between  this 
notional  and  fiducial  knowledge  as  there  is  between 
the  knowledge  of  an  angel,  who  comes  under  the 
wing  of  Christ  lor  his  confirmation  in  his  happy 
estate,  and  the  knowledge  of  a  devil. 

— Chiirnock,  1628-1680. 

(3121.)  Unholy  knowledge  is  but  a  carcass,  a 
shadow,  the  activity  of  a  vain  mind,  or  a  means 
without  the  en<i,  and  unfit  to  attain  it.  A  map  is 
not  a  kingdom,  nor  doth  it  much  enrich  the  owner. 
The  nanies  of  meats  and  drinks  will  not  nourish 
you  .  and  to  know  names  and  notions,  giveih  you 


KNOWLEDGE, 


(  523  ) 


KNOWLEDGE. 


no  title  to  the  things  so  named.  You  may  as  well 
think  to  be  saved  for  being  good  musicians,  physi- 
cians, or  astronomers,  as  for  being  learned  divines, 
if  your  iinowledge  cause  not  holy  iove  ;  it  may  help 
vthers  to  heaven,  but  it  will  be  but  vanity  to  you  ; 
»nd  you  be  as  "sounding  brass,  or  a  tinkling 
cymbal."  You  glory  in  a  lite'css  picture  ol  wisdom  ; 
and  hell  may  siiorily  tell  yo  •  that  you  had  better 
chosen  anything  to  [ilay  the  fool  with,  than  with  the 
notions  and  words  ol  wisdom  mortified. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3122.)  The  bare  knowledge  of  God's  will  is  in- 
efficacious, it  doth  not  better  the  heart.  Know- 
ledge alone  is  like  a  winter  sun,  which  hath  no  heat 
or  influence  ;  it  doth  not  warm  the  alTections,  or 
purify  the  conscience.  Juilas  was  a  great  luminary, 
he  knew  God's  will,  but  he  was  a  traitor. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

V3123.)  Young  is,  of  all  other  men,  one  of  the 
most  striking  examples  of  the  disunion  of  piety 
from  truth.  If  we  read  his  most  true,  imp.issioned, 
and  impressive  estimate  of  the  world  and  of  religion, 
we  shall  tliink  it  impossible  that  he  was  unin- 
fluenced by  his  subject.  It  is,  however,  a  melancholy 
fact — that  he  was  hunting  after  preferment  at  eighty 
years  old,  and  felt  and  spoke  like  a  disappointed 
man.  The  truth  was  pictured  on  his  mind  in  most 
vivid  colours.  He  felt  it,  while  he  was  writing. 
He  felt  himself  on  a  retired  spot  ;  and  he  saw 
Death,  the  mighty  hunter,  pursuing  the  unthink- 
ing world.  He  saw  redemption — its  necessity  and 
its  grandeur  ;  and,  while  he  looked  on  it,  he  spoke 
as  a  man  would  speak  whose  mind  and  heart  are 
deeply  eng.iged.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  the 
view  did  not  reach  his  heart  1  Had  1  preached  in 
his  pulpit  with  the  fervour  and  interest  that  his 
"Night  Thoughts"  discover,  he  would  have  been 
terrihed.  He  told  a  friend  of  mine,  who  went  to 
him  under  religious  fears,  that  he  must  go  more 
into  the  world  1  — Cecil,  1748-1810. 

(3124.)  Belief  is  not  intellectual  but  moral:  "with 
the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness,"  so 
that  religion  is  not  a  question  of  mere  notions,  but 
tlie  expression  of  the  entire  spiritual  lile.  It  would 
be  as  logical  to  contend  that  a  man  is  going  a 
journey  because  he  can  explain  the  construction  of 
an  engine  as  to  contend  that  a  man  is  going  to 
heaven  because  he  can  correctly  answer  theological 
questions.  — Parker. 

7.  Its  present  Imperfection. 

(3125.)  Our  knowledge  is  but  in  part,  and  im- 
perfect ;  the  most  of  what  we  know,  is  tlie  least  of 
what  we  do  not  know.  The  Gospel  is  as  a  rich  piece 
ofai  ras,  rolled  up  ;  this  God  hath  been  unfolding  ever 
since  the  first  promise  was  made  to  Adam,  opening 
it  still  every  age  wider  than  other  ;  but  the  world 
shall  sooner  be  at  an  end,  than  this  mystery  will  be 
fully  known.  Indeed  as  a  river  (which  may  l)e  breaks 
forth  at  first  from  the  small  orifice  of  a  little  spring) 
does  widen  its  channel,  and  grows  broader,  as  it 
Rpproacheth  nearer  to  the  sea  ;  so  the  knowledge 
of  this  mystery  doih  spread  every  age  more  than 
other,  and  still  will,  as  the  world  draws  nearer  to 
the  sea  of  eternity,  into  which  it  must  at  last  fall. 
The  Gospel  appeared  but  a  little  spring  in  Adam's 
time,  whose  whole  Bible  was  bound  up  in  a  single 
promise  ;  this  increased  to  a  rivuiel  by  Abraham's 
time,  and  this  rivulet  enlarged  itself  into  a  river  in 


the  davs  of  the  prophets  ;  but  when  Christ  came  in 
the  flesh,  then  knowledge  flowed  in  amain  ;  the  least 
in  the  Gospel  state  is  said  to  be  greater  than  the 
greatest  belore  Christ  :  so  that  in  comparison  of  the 
darker  times  of  the  law,  the  knowledge  Christians 
now  have,  is  great  ;  but  compared  with  the  know- 
ledge they  shall  have  in  heaven,  'tis  little,  and  but 
peep  of  day.  — Giirnall. 

(3126.)  Man's  knowledge  is  but  as  the  rivulet; 
his  ignorance  as  the  sea.  — Eliza  Cook. 

8,  Its  future  perfectness. 

(3127.)  "  Whether  there  be  knowledge,  it  shall 
vanish  away"  (  I  Cor.  xiii.  8).  Although  it  be  no 
marvel  that  prophecies  and  tongues  should  lail,  that 
knowledge  shall  be  done  away,  this  is  what  may 
cause  some  perplexity.  What  then  ?  are  we  then 
to  live  in  ignorance?  Far  from  it.  Nay,  then 
specially  it  is  probable  that  our  knowledge  is  made 
more  intense.  Wherefore  also  he  said,  "Then 
shall  I  know,  even  as  also  I  am  known."  For  this 
reason,  if  you  mark  it,  that  you  might  not  suppose 
this  to  be  done  away  equally  with  the  prophecy  and 
the  tongues,  having  said,  "  Whether  there  be  know- 
ledge, it  shall  vanish  away,"  he  was  not  silent,  but 
added  also  the  manner  of  its  vanishing  away,  im- 
mediately subjoining  the  saying,  "  We  know  in 
part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part.  But  when  thai 
which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that  which  is  in  part 
shall  be  done  away."  It  is  not  therefore  knowledge 
that  is  done  away,  but  this  circumstance,  that  our 
knowledge  is  in  part.  For  we  shall  not  only  know 
as  much,  but  even  a  great  deal  more.  But  that  I 
may  also  make  it  plain  by  example  ;  now  we  know 
that  God  is  everywhere,  but  how,  we  know  not. 
That  He  made  out  of  things  that  are  not  the  things 
that  are,  we  know  ;  but  of  the  manner  we  are 
ignorant.  Tliat  He  was  born  of  a  virgin,  we  know, 
but  how,  we  know  not  yet.  But  then  shall  we 
know  somewkat  more  and  more  clearly  concerning 
these  things.  — Chrysostovi,  347-407. 

(3128.)  The  cessation  of  our  present  mode  ol 
knowing,  is  but  the  cessation  of  our  ignorance  and 
imjierfection  :  as  our  wakening  endelh  a  dreaming 
knowledge,  and  our  maturity  endeth  the  trifling 
knowleilge  of  a  child  :  for  so  saith  the  Holy  Ghost 
(i  Cor.  xiii.  8-12).  Love  never  faileth,  and  we  can 
love  no  more  than  we  know  ;  but  whether  there  be 
prophecies  they  shall  fail  (that  is,  cease)  ;  whether 
there  be  tongues  they  shall  cease  ;  whether  there  be 
knowledge,  notional  and  abstractive,  such  as  we 
have  now,  it  shall  vanish  away:  "When  I  was  a 
child  I  spake  as  a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child,  I 
thought  as  a  chilil  ;  but  when  1  became  a  man,  I 
put  away  chiklish  things.  F'or  now  we  see  through 
a  glass  {per  speciem)  darkly,"  as  men  understand  a 
thing  by  a  metaphor,  parable,  or  a  riddle,  "but 
then  face  to  face  ;"  even  creatures  intuitL>ely  as  in 
themselves  naked  and  open  to  our  sight.  "  Now  I 
know  in  part  (not  rent  sed  alic/ttitl  rei ;  in  which 
sense  Sanchery  truly  saith,  tiiliil  sdtur)  ,  "  but  then 
I  shall  know  even  as  1  am  known  ;  not  as  God 
knoweth  us  :  "  for  our  knowledge  and  His  must  not 
be  so  comparatively  likened  ;  but  as  holy  spirits 
know  us  both  now  and  for  ever,  we  shall  both  know, 
and  be  known  by  immediate  intuition. 

If  a  physician  be  to  describe  the  parts  of  a  man, 
and  the  latent  diseases  of  his  patient,  he  is  fain  tc: 
search  hard,  and  bestow  many  thoughts  of  it  besides 
his  long  reading  and  converse,  to  make  him  capable 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(  524  ) 


KNOWLEDGE. 


of  knowing  ;  and  when  all  is  done,  he  goeth  much 
upon  conjectures,  and  his  l<nowledge  is  mixed  with 
many  uncertainties,  yea,  and  mistakes  ;  but  when 
he  openeth  the  corpse,  he  seeth  all,  and  his  know- 
ledge is  more  full,  more  true,  and  more  certain  ; 
besides  that  it  is  easily  and  quickly  attained,  even 
by  a  present  look.  A  countryman  knoweth  the 
town,  the  fields,  and  rivers,  where  he  dwelleth,  yea, 
and  the  plants  and  animals,  with  ease  and  certain 
clearness,  when  he  that  must  know  the  same  things 
oy  the  study  of  geographical  writings  and  tables, 
must  know  them  but  with  a  general,  an  unsatis- 
factory, and  oft  a  much  mistaking  kind  ofknowledge. 
Alas  !  when  our  present  knowledge  hath  cost  a  man 
the  study  of  forty  or  fifty  or  sixty  years,  how  lean, 
how  poor,  how  doubtful  and  unsatisfactory  is  it, 
after  all  !  But  when  God  will  show  us  Himself 
and  all  things,  and  when  heaven  is  known  as  the 
sun  by  its  own  light,  this  will  be  the  clear,  pure, 
and  satisfactory  knowledge  :  "  HIessed  are  the  pure 
in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God  "  (Matt.  v.).  "  And 
without  holiness  none  can  see  Ilim"  (Heb.  xii.  14). 
This  sight  will  be  worthy  the  name  of  wisdom, 
when  our  present  glimpse  is  but  philosophy,  a  love 
and  desire  of  wisdom.  So  far  should  we  be  from 
fearing  death,  through  the  fear  of  losing  our  know- 
ledge, or  any  of  the  means  of  knowledge,  that  it 
should  make  us  rather  long  for  the  world  of  glorious 
light,  that  we  might  get  out  of  this  darkness  and 
know  all  that  with  an  easy  look,  to  our  joy  and 
satisfaction,  which  here  we  know  with  troublesome 
doublings,  or  not  at  all.  Shall  we  be  afraid  of 
darkness  in  the  heavenly  light,  or  of  ignorance, 
when  we  see  the  Lord  of  glory  ? 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

9.  The  sources  of  knowledge  will  never  be 
exhausted. 

(3129.)  The  thought  occurred  to  some  that  if,  as 
the  Scriptures  appear  to  intimate,  we  learn  more 
rapidly  in  the  future  than  in  the  present  life,  and 
are  to  have  our  exisience  jirolonged  through  eternity, 
a  time  will  come  when  the  sources  of  knowledge 
will  be  exhausted,  and  the  enjoyments  of  heaven, 
having  lost  the  charm  of  nove  ty,  will  in  consequence 
become  insipid.  There  would  be  reason  in  this 
thought,  were  it  not  that  we  have  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  a  boundless  universe,  and  a  God  of 
infinite  perfections.  It  is  said  "that  the  traveller 
who  ascends  slowly  the  steep  side  of  the  Andes, 
when,  stage  after  stage,  he  looks  beneath  and 
around  him,  and  gazes  at  each  advance  upon  a 
wider  horizon  than  before,  convinces  himself  that 
he  is  actually  attaining  a  great  elevation  above  the 
common  level  of  earth  whence  he  started.  And 
yet,  when  he  looks  upward  to  the  starry  vault,  and 
sees  it  now  in  all  its  amplitude  and  through  a  more 
translucent  medium,  so  as  that,  more  distinctly  than 
before,  he  is  conscious  of  the  vastness  and  distance 
of  the  heavenly  system,  his  impression  is  not  that 
he  is  getting  nearer  to  the  stars ;  but  rather  that, 
though  acluady  he  rises,  they  are  drawing  back  to 
a  greater  remoteness,  and  contemning  his  feeble 
efToris  to  clunti  on  high."  Just  so  will  it  be  with 
our  knowledge  in  the  future  state.  Though  sensible 
of  a  constant  progression,  when  we  look  to  the 
untrodden  heights  which  lie  beyond  us,  they  will 
appear  the  vaster  the  higher  we  ascend.  Our 
augmented  knowledge  will  make  us  more  .sensible 
of  out  own  ignorance.  The  more  we  learn  of  God, 
the   more  shall  we  be  convinced    that  we   cannot 


comprehend  His  infinitude.  Thus,  my  brethren, 
provision  is  made  for  our  eternal  improvement. 
And  though  what  we  shall  ultimately  become  does 
not  yet  appear,  cannot  yet  appear,  the  thuught  ol 
what  we  may  he  alier  millions  of  years  are  past,  is 
enough  to  thrill  you  with  emotions  of  deligiu,  and 
to  make  the  heart  bound  within  you,  enough  to 
gratify  the  loftiest  ambition,  and  to  satisfy  the  most 
enlarged  desires.  — LanJels. 

in.     THE  K!^OlVLEDGE  OF  GOD. 
1.  Its  importance. 
(3130.)  First    know  God   and  then  serve  Him. 

He  can  never  shoot  right  that  takes  his  aim  con- 
trary. The  understanding  directs  all  the  inferior 
powers  of  the  soul  ;  if  that  is  infected  with  error, 
the  affections  must  necessarily  move  out  of  order. 
A  blind  horse  may  be  full  oi  mettle,  but  it  is  ever 
and  anon  apt  to  stumble  ;  and  therefore,  "  without 
knowledge  the  heart  is  not  good." 

— Manton,  1 620-1667. 

(3 1 3 1.)  Knowledge  of  God  is  a  necessary  preface 
to  a  spiritual  joy  in  Him  (I's.  civ.  34).  First,  by 
a  sweetness  tasted  in  meditation,  and  then  a  delight 
in  God,  the  object  of  it  ;  and  according  to  the 
apprehension  we  have  of  the  object,  are  the  degrees 
of  our  delight  in  it.  It  is  all  one  to  a  blind  man, 
be  he  in  a  palace  richly  furnished,  or  a  dungeon 
hung  with  cobwebs.  — Chaniock,  1628-16^0. 

(3132.)  The  brightest  needles  move  quickest,  and 
stick  fastest  to  the  loadstone.  The  clearer  our 
knowledge,  the  closer  our  adherence.  He  that 
spiritually  knows  God  and  Christ,  will  rest  upon 
God's  bare  word  with  more  steadfastness  than  if  he 
had  the  strongest  assurances  of  all  the  princes  in 
the  world  for  a  great  estate. 

—  Char  nock,  1628-1680. 

(3133.)  Whatsoever  other  knowledge  a  man  may 
be  endued  withal,  he  is  but  an  ignorant  person  who 
doth  not  know  God,  the  author  of  his  behig. 

—  TillotsoH,  1630-1694. 

(3134.)  We  must  know  God's  will  before  we  can 
do  it  ;  knowledge  is  the  eye  to  direct  the  foot  ol 
obedience.  The  papists  make  ignorance  the  mother 
of  devotion,  but  Christ  makes  ignorance  the  mother 
of  error  (Matt.  xxii.  29).  "Ye  err,  not  knowing 
the  Scripture."  We  must  know  God's  will  before 
we  can  do  it  aright,  there  is  no  going  to  heaven 
blindfold.  In  the  creation,  li^ht  was  the  first  thing 
that  was  made  ;  so  it  is  in  the  new  creation  :  know- 
ledge is  the  pillar  of  fire  that  goes  before  us,  and 
lights  us  into  the  heavenly  kingdom.  It  is  light 
must  bring  us  lo  the  "  inheritance  of  the  saints  in 
light."  — Watson,  1696. 

(3135.)  Will  you  reject  knowledge  because  some 
abuse  it?  Why,  that  is  as  ridiculous  as  lo  say. 
Because  many  die,  who  have  both  food  and  physic, 
and  plenty  of  means  for  preserving  lite  :  therefore, 
I  will  use  no  means,  for  preserving  of  my  life  at  all. 
They  that  have  food  and  phy-ic  may  die  ;  but  they 
that  have  none  of  them  cannot  live;  so,  whoever 
perish,  ignorant  persons,  that  slight  the  means,  are 
sure  to  perish.  — Erskine,  1 683-1 752. 

(3136.)  When  St,  Columban  said  to  Lucinus, 
concerning  his  ardent  devotion  to  learning,  "  My 
child,  many  out  of  undue  love  of  knowledge  have 
shipwrecked  their  souls,"  "My  father,"  replied  the 


KNOWLEDGE. 


t  525    ) 


KNO  W LEDGE, 


boy  with  deep  humility,  "if  I  learn  to  know 
God  I  shall  never  offend  Him,  for  they  only  offend 
Him  who  know  Him  not."         — F.  VV.  Farrar, 

2.  Its  Insuffldency. 

(3137.)  Knowledge  gives  us  a  sight,  and  love 
gives  us  a  possession  ;  we  find  God  by  knowledge, 
but  we  enjoy  Him  by  love.  Let  us  improve  our 
knowledge  of  Him  for  inflaming  our  affections  to 
Him,  that  we  may  be  prepared  for  the  glory  of  our 
eternal  life.  The  understanding  is  but  the  door  of 
the  iieart  ;  to  let  God  and  Christ  stick  there,  and 
not  bring  them  into  the  heart,  is  to  give  a  cold 
entertainment  to  tliat  which  deserves  the  best. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

3.  Its  delightfulness. 

(3138.)  It  is  a  durable  delight  when  all  others 
wither.  Other  knowledge  is  as  a  rainbow,  pleasant 
to  behold  but  quickly  vanishing,  like  the  sound  of 
music  in  the  ear,  which  pleases  and  expires. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(3^39-)  A  Christian  rejoices  in  the  knowledge  of 
God.  What  music  is  to  the  sensitive  and  susceptible 
ear,  what  beauty  is  to  the  eye,  what  health  is  to  the 
frame  and  sweetness  to  the  taste,  all  this,  and  more 
than  this,  the  knowledge  of  God,  through  appre- 
hension of  the  everlasting  gospel,  is  to  the  true 
Christian.  — Ctimming. 

4.  Should  be  pro^esslve. 

(3140.)  It  is  a  progressive  knowledge,  still  aim- 
ing at  more  knowledge  and  more  improvements  of 
it.  Though  the  knowledge  of  God  he  at  first  in- 
fused into  us  by  the  inspiration  of  the  Spirit,  yet 
neither  that  in  the  head,  nor  grace  in  the  heart, 
have  their  full  strength  at  their  first  birth,  but 
attain  their  stature  gradually.  Natural  knowledge, 
which  is  a  common  work  of  God  upon  men,  arrives 
not  at  its  growth  in  a  moment,  but  in  a  tract  of 
time.  He  that  first  found  out  the  inclination  of  the 
loadstone  to  the  pole  did  not  presently  apprehend 
all  the  virtues  of  the  loadstone,  nor  was  able  to  sail 
about  the  world  by  it,  though  this  afterwards  grew 
up  from  the  first  invention.  We  go  up  a  mountain 
step  by  step.  Christ  does  not  perform  all  the  parts 
of  His  prophetical  office  at  once  ;  there  is  a  further 
declaration  of  the  name  of  God  to  succeed  the  first. 
"I  have  declared  Thy  name  and  will  declare  it, 
that  the  love  wherewith  Thou  hast  loved  me  may 
be  in  them."  — Chariiock,  1 628-1 6S0. 

5.  Is  impossible  to  the  Inconstant. 

(3141.)  Light  and  inconstant  spirits  have  not  the 
Knowledge  of  God,  any  more  thnn  running  water 
can  receive  the  lorce  oi  a  sunbenm,  which  glides 
away  from  one  after  another,  and  remains  under 
the  power  and  force  of  none.  You  can  never  set  a 
stamp  upon  a  floating  cork  till  you  take  it  out  of 
the  water.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

6.  Its  humbling  efifects. 

(3i42.)  Suppose  a  man  be  highly  advanced  in 
the  know  ledge  of  Christ,  surely  the  more  knowledge 
he  hath,  the  more  doth  he  see  into  himself,  and  the 
Dioie  corruption  will  he  see  in  himself  than  he  saw 
before  :  as  by  the  bright  sun  that  shines  in  at  the 
window,  we  will  see  those  motes  fly  up  and  down, 
that  we  cannot  see  by  the  clear  daylight.  The 
more  light,  the  more  a  man  sees  into  himself,  and 
so  the  more  corruption  does  he  find  in  him,  than 
before  he  thought  of.  — Eiskme,  1685-1752. 


IV.    SAVING   KNOWLEDGE. 
1.  Its  nature. 

(3143.)  The  knowledge  of  God  and  Christ, 
which  is  saving,  differs  not  from  other  knowledge 
in  regard  of  the  object,  but  the  manner  of  knowing 
and  the  effects  of  knowledge.  One  knows  by  a 
natural  understanding,  and  knows  God  in  the  Scrip- 
ture as  he  would  know  a  thing  written  in  any  other 
book  :  the  other  knowledge  is  by  an  understanding 
opened  to  take  in  more  fully  what  is  presented. 
The  shutters  which  barred  out  the  light  are  pulled 
down,  whereby  the  light  bieaks  into  the  room  more 
clearly:  "Then  opened  He  their  understandings  " 
(Luke  xxiv.  45).  Two  may  behold  the  same  pic- 
ture, the  object  is  the  same  ;  but  one  having  a  more 
piercing  eye,  and  exacter  judgment,  will  better 
discern  the  lineaments  and  beauty  of  the  work, 
which  the  other  cannot  perceive,  though  he  views 
the  same  object.  Suppose  a  beast  that  knows  his 
master  and  the  servants  that  give  him  food,  were 
changed  into  a  man,  and  endued  with  a  rational 
soul,  he  would  have  the  same  objects  of  knowledge  ; 
but  he  would  know  them  in  another  manner,  with  an 
understanding  given  ;  whereas  he  knew  before  only 
by  a  customary  sight,  a  strength  of  imagination. 

And  another  kind  of  knowledge  in  the  effects. 
A  child  of  a  year  old  may  know  his  parents,  his 
father,  mother,  and  the  servants  ;  but  when  he 
grows  up,  though  there  is  no  change  of  the  objects, 
yet  there  is  in  the  effects  of  his  knowledge.  He 
knows  them  with  more  reverence,  with  more 
rational  affections,  with  expressions  of  duty.  So 
the  knowledge  of  God  differs  in  a  sound  Christian 
from  the  knowledge  others  have  under  the  preach- 
ing of  the  Gospel  ;  he  knows  God  and  Christ  in  a 
clearer  manner,  with  a  spiritual  eye,  and  brings 
lorth  affectionate  and  practical  fruits  of  that  know- 
ledge. — Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

(3144.)  Other  knowledge  discovers  other  things, 
but  not  a  m.an's  self;  like  a  dark  lantern,  which 
shows  us  other  persons  and  things,  but  obscures 
ourselves  from  the  sight  of  ourselves  ;  but  the  know- 
ledge of  God  is  such  a  light  whereby  a  man  beholds 
hin'self,  as  well  as  the  way  wherein  he  is  to  walk. 
—  Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(3145.)  There  is  as  great  difference  between  the 
common  knowledge  of  God  in  an  unbelieving 
scholar  and  a  believing  Christian,  as  between  the 
knowledge  that  a  gardener  has  of  plants  and  flowers 
in  his  master's  garden  :  he  knows  how  to  dress 
ihem,  knows  the  names  and  nature  of  every  parti- 
cular plant,  and  flower  there  ;  but  though  the 
knowledge  of  the  owner  of  it  doe^  not  extend  to 
all  those  particularities,  yet  he  knows  it  to  be  his, 
conveyed  to  him,  and  of  right  belonging  to  him. 
Another  man  delights  in  a  beautiful  field  and  garden, 
pleases  himself  with  the  variety  of  the  flowers  and 
pleasures  of  the  walks  ;  the  owner  delights  in  it 
upon  this  account  too,  loves  to  consider  tlie  nature 
ol  the  trees  and  plants  ;  but  he  has  a  knowledge 
of  it,  and  delight  in  it  above  the  others  ;  because 
of  his  property,  he  knows  the  possession  of  it, 
and   the  commodities  arising  from  it  to  be  his. 

This  knowledge  is  always  with  some  glimmering 
of  hopes  that  God  and  Christ  are  his,  according  to 
the  tenor  of  the  covenant.  Though  there  be  not 
a  full  assurance,  the  title  and  evidence  is  not  clear 
to  him,  and  may  seem  to  have  some  flaw  in  it  which 
he   has  not  yet  overcome,   yet   rll   true  faith  hfis 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(  526  ) 


KNOWLEDGE. 


something  of  comfort    and  hope  with  it,  for  it  is 

Wrought,  by  tlie  Spirit  as  a  comforter,  convincing 
of  the  sufficiency  as  well  as  the  necessity  of  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  upon  which  the  soul  in  this 
saving  Unowlecige  flings  itself,  and  follows  this 
glimmering,  till  he  comes  to  a  greater  light,  where- 
by to  read  his  own  interest  in  Christ,  as  Paul  did  ; 
"  Who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for  me." 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(3146.)  Tt  differs  from  the  knowledge  of  others, 
as  the  sight  of  a  ship  by  an  unskilful  eye  from  that 
of  the  shipwright  or  pilot,  who  understands  all  the 
parts  of  the  workman's  skill  ;  or  the  sight  of  a 
picture  by  a  limner,  and  one  ignorant  of  the  art. 
One  sees  the  hidden  pieces  of  art,  the  other  the 
outward  figure  and  composure. 

—  Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

(3147.)  It  is  a  firm  knowledge.  Some  have  a 
floating  knowledge  of  God.  Truth  in  their  mind 
does  dance  as  the  image  of  the  sun  or  stars  in  a 
pail,  according  to  the  mniion  of  the  water.  Tiuth 
and  error  are  like  a  pair  of  scales,  sometimes  up 
and  sometimes  down.  But  as  true  faith,  so  saving 
knowledge,  is  steadfast  like  a  needle,  slicking  to 
the  loadstone  without  wavering  (Col.  ii.  5). 

—  Charnock,   1628-1680. 

2.  Can  be  Imparted  to  us  only  by  the  Spirit  of 
God. 

(3148.)  The  greatest  part  of  the  world,  whether 
learnnid  or  unlearned,  think  that  there  is  no  need  of 
purgmg  and  purifying  of  iheir  hearts  for  the  right 
knowledge  of  Christ  and  His  Gospel  :  but  though 
their  lives  be  never  so  wicketl,  their  hearts 
never  so  foul  within,  yet  they  may  know  Christ 
sufficiently  out  of  their  mere  systems  and  bodies  of 
divmity  ;  although  our  Saviour  prescribes  His  dis- 
ciples another  method  to  come  to  the  right  know- 
ledge of  Divine  truths,  by  doing  of  fjod's  will. 
"  He  that  wil!  do  my  Father's  will  (saith  He),  shall 
know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God."  He 
is  a  true  Christian,  indeed,  not  he  that  is  book- 
taught,  but  he  that  is  God-taught  ;  he  that  hns  "an 
tinction  from  the  Holy  One  "  that  te.nches  him  all 
tilings  :  he  that  has  the  Spirit  of  Christ  within  him 
that  searcheth  out  the  deep  things  of  God  :  "  for  as 
no  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  save  the 
spirit  of  a  man  which  is  in  him  ;  even  so  the 
things  of  God  knoweth  no  man,  but  the  Spirit  of 
God." 

Ink  and  paper  can  never  make  us  Christians,  can 
never  beget  a  new  nature,  a  living  principle  in  us  ; 
can  never  form  Chri^t,  or  any  true  notions  of  spiri- 
tual things,  in  our  hearts.  Cold  theorems  and 
maxims,  lean  syllogistical  reasonings,  could  never 
yet  of  themselves  beget  the  least  glimpse  of  true 
heavenly  light,  the  least  sap  of  saving  knowledge, 
in  any  heart.  All  this  is  but  the  groping  of  the 
poor  dark  spirit  of  man  after  truth,  to  find  it  out 
with  his  own  endeavours,  and  feel  it  with  his  own 
cold  and  benumbed  hands.  Words  and  syllables, 
which  are  but  dead  things,  cannot  possibly  convey 
the  living  notions  of  heavenly  truths  to  us.  The 
secret  mysteries  of  a  Divine  life,  01  a  new  nature,  of 
C'liist  tormed  in  our  hearts,  they  cannot  be  written 
or  spoken  ;  language  and  expressions  cannot  reach 
them  ;  neither  can  they  be  ever  truly  understood, 
except  the  soul  itself  be  kindled  from  within,  an. I 
awakened  into  the  life  of  them.  A  painter  that 
could    draw  a   rose,    though   he  may  flourish  soma 


likeness  of  it  in  figure  and  colour,  yet  he  can  nevei 
paint  the  scent  and  fragrancy  ;  or  if  he  would  draw 
a  llame,  he  cannot  put  a  constant  heat  into  his 
colours  :  he  cannot  make  his  pencil  drop  a  sound, 
as  the  echo  in  the  epigram  mocks  at  him — 
Si  vis  siviilein  pin^ere,  pinge  sofium. 
All  the  skill  of  cunning  artisans  and  mechanics 
cannot  put  a  principle  of  life  into  a  statue  of  their 
own  making.  Neither  are  we  able  to  enclose  in 
words  and  letters  the  life,  soul,  and  essence  of  any 
spiritual  truths,  and  as  it  were  to  incorporate  it  in 
them.  — Cud-worth,  1017-1688. 

3.  Its  blessedness. 

(3149.)  Speculative  knowledge  is  as  the  light  of 
torches,  guiding,  not  heating  ;  this  is  as  the  sun, 
which  biith  directs  and  warms  ;  a  fire  felt  as  well  as 
seen  ;  truth  known,  and  truth  used  as  a  compass  to 
sail  by.  When  the  knowledge  of  the  nature  of 
God  is  impressed  upon  us  for  imitation,  and  is,  as 
the  conference  of  Christ  with  His  disciples,  inflaming 
the  heart  (Luke  xxiv.  32),  and  driving  away  the 
cold  affections  towards  God  ;  when  righteousness  is 
understood  as  well  as  judgment,  and  that  as  a  path, 
and  a  good  path  to  walk  in  ;  when  we  are  not  only 
directed  to  the  path,  but  are  pleased  with  the  good- 
ness of  it,  and  the  approving  wisdom  enters  into 
the  heart,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  becomes  pleasant 
to  the  soul  (Prov.  ii.  9,  10)  ;  when  there  is  not  only 
a  knowledge  of  God,  but  a  liking  to  retain  it  ;  a 
sight  of  the  sun,  and  a  delight  in  its  beams  ;  a 
knowledge  of  the  fire,  and  approach  to  its  heat; 
a  mighty  pleasure  in  God  and  Christ,  as  a  sweet 
ointment  pouted  forth  ;  when  God  is  known  and 
embraced  as  the  chief  good  and  ultimate  end  ;  Christ 
known  and  embraced  as  the  way  to  be  at  peace 
with  God,  and  an  honourer  of  Ilim  :  such  a  know- 
ledge as  is  not  only  like  animal  sjiirits  in  the  brain, 
but  vital  spirits  in  the  iieart  enabling  for  action  ; 
not  like  a  cloud  hanging  in  the  air,  but  distilling  ia 
fruitful  showers  for  the  assistance  of  the  earth. 

— Charnock,  162S-1680. 

(3150.)  This  kind  of  knowledge  is  necessary  to 
happiness,  for  without  it  we  can  have  no  clear  nor 
worthy  notions  of  Goil,  but  more  likely  disparaging 
ones  ;  as  a  man  that  never  saw  the  stateliness  of 
London,  or  any  city  like  it,  cannot  mount  higher  in 
his  conceptions  of  it  than  that  it  may  be  a  lit'.le 
better  than  the  best  market  town  which  he  has  seen 
in  his  country,  but  he  is  not  like  to  have  conceits 
of  it  according  to  the  greatness  of  the  place,  the 
magnificence  of  the  buildings,  the  gallantry  of  the 
people.  When  he  once  comes  to  behold  it,  he  will 
find  his  former  conceptions  of  it  to  be  vastly  short 
of  the  beauty  of  the  place.  He  would  scarce  be 
convinced  of  it  without  a  sight.  Imleed,  this 
knowledge  of  God  is  imperfect  here  because  of  our 
present  state.  But  some  experience  there  is  here 
answering  to  the  vision  lierealter,  as  a  map  of  that 
which  the  soul  is  travelling  to  a  sight  of.  This 
kind  of  knowledge  of  God  is  banisiied  from  the 
unclean  spirits ;  tiiey  have  lost  the  savour  of  what 
they  knew  of  God,  and  feel  nothing  but  the  power 
of  His  wrath.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(31 5 1.)  There  is  an  excellency  in  Divine  know- 
ledge thai  cannot  be  discovered  by  the  tongues  of 
men  or  angels  ;  an  experience  and  spiritual  sensation 
renders  a  man  more  intelligent  than  all  discourses 
I  can.     As  the  natural  sense  best  judges  of  sensible 


KNOWLEDGE. 


(     527     ) 


LAW. 


objects,  so  does  the  spiritual  sense  of  divine.  Tie 
that  lias  tasted  honey  has  a  more  lively  knowledge 
of  it  than  the  most  learned  man  that  never  tasied 
the  sweetness,  or  feh  the  operations  of  it.  Nor  can 
any  conceive  so  clearly  ol  the  excellency  of  the  sun, 
by  the  discovirses  of  the  richest  fancies,  as  by  seeing 
its  glory  and  feeling  the  warmth  of  its  beams.  A 
man's  oun  sense  will  better  inform  him  of  the 
beauty  of  the  heavens  than  the  elevated  reasonings 
of  ]>hilosophers.  Divine  truth  acted  upon  the  heart, 
ami  felt  in  its  influence,  is  more  plainly  known  than 
by  discourse  and  reason. 

— Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

(3152.)  A  speculative  knowledge  is  like  that  of 
the  Queen  of  Sheba  at  a  distance  ;  an  experimen'.al 
is  like  her  sight  of  the  order  and  glory  of  Solomon's 
court,  that  left  no  more  spirit  in  her. 

— Cha7-noik,  1628-1680. 

4.  By  whom  It  Is  possessed. 

(3153.)  Experience  giveth  us  a  far  more  satisfac- 
tory manner  of  knowledge,  than  others  have  that 
have  no  such  experience.  To  know  by  hearsay,  is 
like  the  knowing  of  a  country  in  a  mnp  ;  and  to 
know  by  experience,  is  like  the  knowing  of  the 
same  country  by  sight.  An  ex[ierienced  navigator, 
or  s  Idler,  or  jihysician,  or  governor,  hath  another 
manner  of  knowledge  than  the  most  learned  can 
have  without  ex]ieiience  ;  even  a  knowledge  that 
confirmeth  a  man,  and  makes  him  confident. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3154.)  The  truths  of  Christ  crucified  are  the 
Christian's  philosophy,  and  a  good  life  is  the  Chris- 
tian's logic — that  great  instrumental  introductive 
art  that  must  guide  the  mind  into  the  former.  And 
where  a  long  course  of  piety,  and  close  communion 
with  God,  has  purged  the  heart,  and  rectified  the 
will,  and  made  all  things  ready  for  ilie  reception  of 
God's  Spirit,  knowledge  will  break  in  upon  such  a 
soul,  like  the  sun  shining  in  his  full  might,  with 
such  a  victorious  light,  that  nothing  shall  be  able  to 
resist  it. 

If  now  at  length  some  should  object  here,  that 
from  what  has  been  delivered,  it  will  follow,  that 
the  most  pious  men  are  still  the  most  knowing, 
which  yet  seems  contrary  to  common  experience 
and  observation,  I  answer,  that  as  to  all  things 
diiectly  conducing,  and  necessary  to  salvation,  there 
is  no  doubt  but  they  are  so  ;  as  the  meanest 
common  soldier,  that  has  fought  often  in  an  army, 
has  a  truer  and  lietter  knowledge  of  v/ar,  than  he 
that  h.Ts  read  and  writ  whole  volumes  of  it,  but 
never  was  in  any  battle. 

Practical  sciences  are  not  to  be  learned  but  in 
the  way  of  action.  It  is  experience  that  must  give 
knowledge  in  the  Christian  profession,  as  well  as 
in  all  others.  And  the  knowledge  drawn  from  ex- 
perience is  quite  of  another  kind  from  that  which 
flows  from  speculation  or  discourse.  It  is  not  the 
opinion,  but  the  "path  of  the  just,"  that  the  wisest 
of  men  tells  us,  "  shines  more  and  more  unto  a 
perfect  day."  The  obetlient,  and  the  men  of  prac- 
tice, are  those  sons  of  light,  that  shall  outgrow  all 
their  doubts  and  ignorances,  that  shall  ride  upon 
these  clouds,  and  triumph  over  their  present  im- 
perfections, till  persuasion  pass  into  knowledge, 
and  knowledge  advance  into  assurance,  and  all 
come  at  length  to  be  completed  in  the  beatific 
vision,  and  a  full  fruition  of  those  joys,  which  God 


has  in  reserve  for  them,   whom  by  His  grace   He 

shall  prepare  for  glory.  — South,  1633-1716. 

5.  How  its  possession  is  to  be  proved. 

(3155.)  There  is  a  caro  and  a  spjntus,  a  flesh  and 
a  spirit,  a  body  and  a  soul,  in  all  the  writings  of 
the  Scriptures.  It  is  but  the  Hesh  and  body  of 
Divine  truths  that  is  printed  upon  paper  ;  which 
many  moths  of  books  and  libraries  do  only  feed 
upon  ;  many  walking  skeletons  of  knowledge,  that 
bury  and  entomb  truths  in  the  living  sepulchres  of 
their  souls,  do  only  converse  with  ;  such  as  never 
did  anything  else  but  pick  at  the  mere  bark  and 
rind  of  truths,  and  crack  the  shells  of  them.  Hut 
there  is  a  soul  and  spirit  of  Divine  truths  that 
could  never  yet  be  congealed  into  ink,  that  could 
never  be  blotted  upon  paper,  which  by  a  secret 
traduction  and  conveyance,  passes  from  one  soul 
into  another,  being  able  to  dwell  or  lodge  nowhere, 
but  in  a  spiritual  being,  in  a  living  thing,  because 
itself  is  nothing  but  life  and  spirit.  Neither  can  it, 
where  indeed  it  is,  express  itself  sufficiently  in  words 
and  sounds,  but  it  will  best  declare  and  speak  itself 
in  actions  ;  as  the  old  manner  of  writing  among  the 
EgyjUians  was,  not  by  words,  but  things.  The  life 
of  Divine  truths  is  better  expressed  in  actions  than 
in  words,  because  actions  are  more  living  than 
words.  Words  are  nothing  but  dead  reseml)lances 
and  pictures  of  those  truths,  which  live  and  breathe 
in  actions  ;  and  the  kingdom  of  God  consists  not  in 
word,  but  in  life  and  power.  Sheep  do  not  come 
and  bring  their  fodder  to  their  she|iherd,  and  show 
him  how  much  they  eat  ;  but  inwardly  concocting 
and  digesting  it,  they  make  it  appear  by  the  fleece 
which  they  wear  upon  their  backs,  and  by  the  milk 
which  they  give.  And  let  not  Christians  affect  only 
to  talk  and  dispute  of  Christ,  and  so  measure  our 
knowledge  of  Him  by  our  words  ;  but  1'^:  us  show 
our  knowledge  concocted  into  our  lives  and  actions  ; 
and  then  K  t  us  really  manifest  that  we  are  Christ's 
sheep  indeed,  that  we  are  His  disciples,  by  that 
fleece  of  holiness  which  we  wear,  and  by  the  fruits 
that  we  daily  yield  in  our  lives  and  conversations  : 
for  "herein,"  says  Christ,  "is  my  F"ather  glorified, 
that  ye  bear  much  fruit ;  so  shall  ye  be  my  disciples." 
—  Cudworth,  1 6 1 7  - 1 6i>8. 


LAW. 

I.  THE  EXTENT  AND  BLESSEDNESS  Ofi 
HER  SWAY. 

(3156.)  Of  law  there  can  be  no  less  acknowledged 
than  that  her  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her  voice 
the  harmony  of  the  world.  All  things  in  heaven 
and  earth  do  her  homage, — the  very  least  as  feeling 
her  care,  the  greatest  as  not  exem[)ted  from  her 
power  ;  both  angels  and  men  and  creatures,  of  what 
condition  soever,  though  each  in  different  sort  and 
manner,  yet  all  with  uniform  consent,  adndring  her 
as  the  mother  of  their  peace  and  joy. 

— Hooker,  1553-1600, 

(3157-)  Since  the  time  that  God  did  first  proclaim 
the  edicts  of  His  law  upon  the  world,  heaven  and 
earth  have  hearkened  unto  His  voice,  and  theii 
labour  hath  been  to  do  His  will.  "He  made  a 
law  for  the  rain  ;"  He  gave  His  "decree  unto  the 
sea,  that  the  waters  should  not  pass  His  comti:and- 
menl."  Now,  if  nature  should  intermit  her  course, 
and  leave  altogether,  though  it  were  for  a  while, 
the  observation  of  her  own  laws,  if  these  pnncipAl 


LAW. 


(    528    ) 


LAW. 


and  mother  elements  of  the  world,  whereof  all  things 
in  this  lower  world  are  made,  should  lose  the 
qualities  which  they  now  have  ;  if  the  frame  of  that 
heavenly  arch  erectcl  over  our  heads,  should  loosen 
and  dissolve  itself;  if  celestial  spheres  should  fory;et 
their  vvonied  motions,  and  by  irregular  volubility 
turn  themselves  any  way  as  it  may  hajipen  ;  if  the 
prince  of  the  lights  of  heaven,  which  now,  as  a 
giant,  doth  run  his  unwearied  course,  should,  as  it 
were,  through  a  languishing  faintness,  begin  to 
stand,  and  to  rest  himself;  if  the  moon  should 
wander  from  her  beaten  vvay,  the  times  and  seasons 
of  the  year  blend  themselves  by  disordered  and  con- 
fused mixture,  the  wintls  breathe  out  their  last  gasp, 
the  clouds  yield  no  rain,  the  earth  be  defeated  of 
her  heavenly  inlluence,  the  fruits  of  the  earth  pine 
away,  as  children  at  the  withered  l)reasts  of  their 
mother  no  longer  able  to  yield  them  relief; — what 
would  become  of  man  himself,  whom  these  things 
do  now  all  serve?  See  we  not  plainly,  that  obe- 
dience of  creatures  unto  the  law  of  nature  is  the 
stay  of  the  whole  world  ? 

— Hooker,  i5S3-i6oa 
II.    f/l/MAJV  LAlf^S. 

1.  Their  foundations. 

(3158.)  In  reality  there  are  two,  and  only  two, 
foundations  of  law ;  and  they  are  both  of  them 
conditions  without  which  nothing  can  give  it  any 
force  :  I  mean  equity  and  utility.  With  respect 
to  the  former,  it  grows  out  of  the  great  rule  of 
equality,  which  is  grounded  upon  our  cominon 
nature,  and  which  Philo,  with  propriety  and  beauty, 
calls  the  mother  of  justice.  Ail  human  laws  are, 
properly  spealung,  only  declaratory;  they  may  alter 
the  mode  and  application,  but  have  no  power  over 
the  substance,  of  original  justice.  The  other  foun- 
dation of  law,  which  is  utility,  must  be  understood, 
not  of  partial  or  limited,  but  of  general  and  public, 
utility,  connected  in  the  same  manner  with,  and 
derived  directly  from,  our  rational  nature  ;  for  any 
other  utility  may  be  the  utility  of  a  robber,  but  can- 
not be  that  of  a  citizen, — the  interest  of  the  domestic 
enemy,  and  not  that  of  a  member  of  the  common- 
wealth. — Burke,  1 728-1 797. 

2.  Are  needful  for  the  weak  and  the  wicked. 

(3 '59-)  ^Vhen  the  state  is  most  corrupt,  then  the 
jaws  are  most  multiplied.  — Tacitus. 

(3160.)  Laws  are  simply  aids  to  weak  folks,  to 
tell  them  where  to  go,  to  help  them  to  go,  and  to 
make  them  remember  the  next  lime  if  they  do  not 
go.  Laws  are  men's  servants  ;  and  they  are  servants 
vvhich  serve  them  in  that  way.  But  if  a  man  has  a 
direct  inspiration  of  God  ;  or  if  his  culture  has 
gone  so  high  that  he  dees  not  need  these  external 
stimulants  ;  or  if  he  has  another  sphere  of  influences 
which  lead  him  to  the  same  thmgs  from  a  higher 
point  of  view,  the  lower  ones  drop,  not  because 
they  are  wrong,  but  because  the  man  is  doing  the 
same  things  better  by  a  different  set  of  instruments. 
Therefore  it  is,  that  there  is  no  law  to  some  men. 
A  man  who  needs  a  law  is  yet  a  child. 

There  is  not  one  man  in  a  hundred  who  ever 
does  live  by  the  laws  of  the  land  that  he  \..  in.  We 
do  not  live  by  the  laws  of  our  land.  You  do  not 
know  one  quarter  of  the  laws  that  are  on  our  statute 
books.  A  virtuous  and  honest  man  does  not  need 
to  know  what  the  laws  are.  The  greatest  pro- 
portion of  men  live  aci  die  without  hearing  once  in 


all  their  life  a  tenth  or  a  hundredth  part  of  the  lavri 
that  pertain  to  good  conduct.  They  do  right  of 
their  own  accord,  and  therefore  the  law  has  no  forc4 
on  them.  So  it  is  in  respect  to  true  manly  living. 
As  far  as  a  real,  upright  man  goes,  he  goes  volun- 
tarily. He  does  from  s|)ontaneity  and  from  choice 
what  men  lower  down  do  from  necessity,  or  from 
fear  of  punishment.  The  consequence  is,  that  men 
live  towarti  freedom  in  proportion  as  they  live 
toward  fidelity.  — Beecher. 

(3161.)  A  principle  is  better  than  a  rule  ;  yet  we 
are  not  to  despise  rules,  for  they  are  leading-strings 
intended  to  bring  us  along  the  path  of  life  to 
principles.  A  rule  is  like  a  mould.  You  pour  in 
the  wax  ;  and  when  it  is  pressed,  it  comes  out,  and 
the  mould  is  left  behind.  The  end  of  a  rule  is  to 
bring  che  man  out  from  the  rule.  Rules  are  like 
sepals  around  a  rose-bud  —  good  to  keep  the  bud 
through  its  first  stages  ;  but  when  it  opens,  and 
comes  to  the  perfect  (lower,  then  they  fall  off,  and 
are  useless.  The  highest  type  of  character  is  that 
which  is  made  up  of  feelings  so  luminous  that  the 
man  takes  a  more  elevated  path  than  he  coukl  ever 
do  if  he  were  bound  down  to  rules  and  precedents. 

— Beecher, 

3.  Are  not  the  standard  of  righteousness. 

(3162.)  To  say  that  there  is  nothing  just  or  un- 
just except  what  laws  expressly  enjoin  or  forbid,  is 
the  same  as  if  we  were  to  maintain  that  all  radii 
were  not  equal  before  the  circumference  of  the 
circle  had  been  traced. — Montesquieu,  i689-l75S' 

4.  How  they  are  to  be  estimated. 

(3163.)  They  are  the  best  laws  by  which  the  king 
hath  the  justest  prerogative  and  the  people  the 
best  liberty.  — Loi-d  Bacon,  1560-1626. 

(3164.)  A  law  IS  valuable,  not  because  it  is  law, 
but  because  there  is  right  in  it  ;  and  because  of  this 
rightness  it  is  like  a  vessel  carrying  perfume— like 
the  alabaster  enclosure  of  a  lamp.  — Beecher. 

5.  Should  not  be  too  minute  and  restrictive. 

(3165.)  The  framers  of  preventive  laws,  no  less 
than  private  tutors  and  schoolmasters,  should  re- 
member, that  the  readiest  way  to  make  either  mind 
or  body  grow  awry,  is  by  lacing  it  too  light. 

-S.  T.  Coleridge,  1772-1834. 

(3166.)  Laws  are  like  grapes,  that  being  too  much 
pressed,  yield  a  hard  and  unwholesome  wine. 

— Eliza  Cook. 

6.  Should  be  carried  into  effect. 

(3167.)  A  good  law  without  execution  is  like  an 
unperformed  promise. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

7.  "Going:  to  law." 

{3168.)  To  go  to  lawyer  revenue  we  are  simply 
forbidden,  that  is,  to  return  evil  for  evil  ;  and  there- 
fore all  those  suits  which  are  iox  vindictive  sentences, 
not  for  reiiarative,  are  directly  criminal. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(3169.)  To  go  to  law  is  for  two  persons  to  kindle 
a  fire  at  their  own  cost  to  warm  others,  and  singe 
themselves  to  cinders ;  and  because  they  cannot 
agree  as  to  what  is  truth  and  equity,  they  wi  1  both 
agree  to  unplume  themselves,  that  others  may  b* 
decorated  with  their  feathers.  — Telltham. 


LAW. 


(     529    ) 


LA  IV. 


IIL     TH^  LAWS  OF  NA  TURK. 

1.  Some  of  their  characteristics  : — 

( I . )    y  key  are  endurhig. 

(3170.)  The  Author  of  Nature  has  not  given  laws 
to  the  universe  wliich,  like  the  institutions  of  men, 
carry  in  themselves  the  elen:ents  of  their  own 
destruction.  He  has  not  permitted  in  His  worlds 
any  symptom  of  infancy  or  old  age,  or  any  sign  by 
which  we  may  estimate  either  tlieir  future  or  their 
past  duration.  He  may  put  an  end,  as  He  no  doubt 
gave  a  beginning,  to  tlie  present  system  at  some 
determinate  period  of  time  :  but  we  may  rest  assured 
that  this  great  catastrophe  will  not  be  brought 
about  by  the  laws  now  existing,  and  that  it  is  not 
indicated  by  anytiiing  which  we  perceive. 

— John  Flay/air, 

(2.)  77iey  are  inexorable  and  indiscrimhtating, 
(3 1 7 1.)  Law  is  not  only  inexorable,  but  blind  and 
pitiless.  It  is  affected  neither  by  age,  ignorance,  or 
knowledge.  It  wrings  to  the  last  pang  its  penalty 
out  of  every  violator.  Law  does  not  lessen  its 
penalty  because  its  violator  is  a  child,  or  its  viola- 
tion is  involuntary  or  in  ignorance.  Poison  is  not  a 
whit  less  poisonous  because  it  was  taken  ignorantly 
or  by  mibtake.  If  my  arm  is  broken  it  makes  no 
difference  whatever  in  the  physical  result,  wiiether 
it  was  effected  in  justifiable  defence  of  my  own 
person  and  property,  or  in  a  criminal  assault  upon  the 
person  and  property  of  another.  If  I  am  beheaded, 
the  physical  result  is  the  same  whether  my  name  is 
haloed  with  the  glory  of  a  martyr,  or  branded  with 
the  infamy  of  a  culprit. 

The  general  laws  of  nature  march  straight  on, 
without  discrimination  in  the  execution  of  their 
purposes,  whether  they  bear  upon  man,  woman,  or 
the  child  that  knows  not  its  right  hand  from  its 
lelt.  In  the  awful  catastrophe  that  overwhelmed 
Pompeii  and  Herculaneum,  in  the  terrible  plague 
that  converted  London  into  a  charnel-house,  in  the 
famines  and  pestilences  that  have  blighted  whole 
lands,  was  there  any  discrimination  between  inno- 
cence and  guilt,  between  maturity  and  infancy? 
Did  the  terrible  earthquakes  of  South  America,  that 
gorged  themselves  with  tens  of  thousands  of  human 
beings,  make  any  distinction?  Do  the  destructive, 
irresistible  hurricanes  that  svveep  the  ocean  discri- 
minate between  the  pirate  and  the  merchaniman, 
the  privateer  and  the  transport?  — Chapnan. 

(3. )   They  are  irresistible. 

(3172.)  Submits  to  no  permanent  modification. 
There  may  seem  to  be  exceptions  to  this.  In  the 
vegetable  world,  for  example,  life,  whatever  this 
Hiay  be,  lays  hold  on  matter,  takes  it  out  from  under 
the  control  of  law,  draws  it  to  itself,  combines  it  in 
new  forms  and  quantities,  and  thus  seems  to 
suspend,  violate,  bid  defiance  to  law.  But  this  is 
Dniy  briefly  ami  apparently  so.  Gravitation  never 
lets  go  its  hold  upon  a  single  particle  of  matter, 
however  used  by  life,  and  tlie  laws  of  chemical 
action  never  suspend  their  operation.  For  a  while, 
and  within  certain  fixed  limits,  their  action  is 
modined.  Vegetable  life  will  lift  matter  alolt  in 
the  tree  ;  but  gravitation  contests  every  inch,  and 
keeps  perpetually  pulling  upon  it.  l>iiefiy,  life 
ieems  to  have  tlie  best  of  it.  But  wait,  and  you 
will  find  that  that  law  will  drag  down  to  the  earth 
the  loltiest  and  most  stalwart  tree  ol  the  foiest,  and 
the  laws  ol  ciiemical  action  wi"  reduce  it  to  its  ori- 


ginal condition  and  elements,  and  these  will  be 
scattered  as  they  were  before  life  seized  upon  Iheni. 
And  thus  law  will  demonstrate  its  permanent  sove- 
reignty over  matter.  It  never  lets  go  its  hold,  never 
admits  any  lasting  interference  with  its  reign. 

Man  may  briefly  control  the  action  of  the  laws  of 
his  physical  system.  The  remedial  agencies  that 
are  at  his  command,  and  the  self-repairing  power  of 
his  body,  neutralise  the  action  of  the  law  of  dis- 
solution and  hold  it  in  abeyance.  Remedial 
agencies  aid  in  arresting  or  modifying  the  results  of 
the  violation  of  some  physical  laws,  but  only  for 
a  while.  The  time  will  come  when  no  remedial 
agency  will  even  for  one  moment  stay  or  moilify 
the  action  of  law,  when  law  will  lauyh  to  scorn 
the  profoundest  skill  of  science  and  the  most  potent 
virtues  of  medicine.  The  vital  force  may  for  a  while 
succeed  in  withstanding  the  ravages  of  law,  and  yet 
at  last  it  must  yield,  and  law  have  its  full  satis- 
faction. For  a  time  life  is  constantly  building  up 
the  system,  and  law  tearing  it  down.  For  years 
life  builds  faster  than  law  can  take  down.  But  then 
life  will  soon  begin  to  falter  in  the  tnequal  contest, 
grow  weary  and  weakly,  and  law  obtain  the  ascen- 
denoy  and  reduce  the  system  to  dust, 

— Chapman. 

2.  They  are  merely  modes  of  DiTJie  operation. 

(3173.)  The  laws  of  nature  are  the  rules  ac- 
cording to  which  effects  are  produced  ;  but  there 
must  be  a  cause  which  operates  according  to  these 
rules.  The  rules  of  navigation  never  steered  a  ship, 
nor  the  law  of  gravity  never  moved  a  planet. 

—  T.  Keid,  17 10-1796. 

(3174.)  Let  it  be  granted  that  eveiything  in  the 
universe,  from  the  rain-drop  to  a  rolling  world,  is 
controlled  by  the  laws  of  nature,  we  have  still  to 
ask  by  whom  these  laws  were  ordained,  and  are 
sustained  and  enforced.  "Nature,"  what  is  that  ? 
Is  it  that  which  gives  laws,  or  that  which  obeys 
them  ?  It  is  a  law  of  nature  that  fire  shall  burn  : 
how  did  it  come  to  be  so?  Did  fire  at  some  far  off 
time  consult  with  itself  and  resolve  how  it  would 
act  through  all  coming  ages  ?  Fire  burns  as  intensely 
to-day  as  it  did  a  thi  usand  years  ago  :  does  it  do  so 
of  set  purpose,  and  that  it  may  be  always  consistent 
with  itself?  In  accordance  with  a  law  o!  nature, 
autumn  has  now  succeeded i  summer  :  who  enforced 
that  law  ?  Is  the  universe  a  vast  clock,  with  count- 
less wheels  and  infinite  complicatioris,  that  goes  on 
for  ever  without  needing  to  be  wound  up?  All  this 
talk  about  the  laws  of  nature  is  in  plain  truth 
nothing  but  an  attempt  to  evade  the  denial  o\  re- 
cognition of  the  being  and  agency  of  God.  The 
laws  of  nature  are  simply  so  much  as  we  have  dis- 
covered of  God's  method  of  working.  By  Him 
they  were  ordained,  and  by  Him  they  are  sustained 
and  enforced.  "The  Lord  hath  prepared  Hi; 
throne  in  the  heavens;  and  His  kingdom  ruleth 
over  all."  "  Praise  ye  Him,  all  ye  stars  of  light. 
Praise  Him,  ye  heavens  of  heavens.  Let  them 
praise  the  name  of  the  Lord  :  fur  He  commanded, 
and  they  were  created.  He  hath  also  stablished 
them  for  ever  :  He  hath  made  a  decree  which  shall 
not  pass.  Praise  the  Lord  from  the  earth,  ye 
dragons,  and  all  deeps  :  fire,  and  hail  ;  snow,  and 
vapours  ;  stormy  wind  fulfilling  His  word." 

— k.  A.  Bertram. 

(3175.)  Speaking  correctly  and  philosophically, 
the  general  laws  of  nature  are  just  rules  which  God 

2  L 


LAW. 


(     530      ) 


LAW. 


has  laid  down  for  the  regulation  of  His  own  pro- 
cedure. It  is  not  that,  as  a  Heing  omnipresent 
and  omnipotent,  ever  watcliful  and  ever  nctive,  lie 
Beeds  ihos^"  lielps  vvhicii  man  requires  inconsequence 
of  hi-s  ii.nrmities.  The  Almighty  can  never  be 
weighed  down  under  the  liurden  of  His  govern- 
ment. He  ado|)ts  the  mode  of  procedure  by 
general  laws,  not  lor  His  own  convenience,  but  for 
that  of  His  intelligent  creatures.  — A/'Cosh. 

(3176.)  The  half-learned  man  is  apt  to  laugh  at 
the  simple  faith  of  the  clown  or  savage,  who  tells 
us  that  rain  conies  from  God.  The  former,  it  seems, 
has  discovered  that  it  is  the  product  of  certain 
laws  of  air,  water,  and  electricity.  But  truly  llie 
peasant  is  the  more  enlightened  of  the  two,  for  he 
has  discovered  the  main  cause,  and  the  real  Actor  ; 
while  the  other  has  found  only  the  second  cause, 
and  the  mere  instrument.  It  is  as  if  a  friend  were 
to  send  us  a  gift  of  ingenious  and  beautiful  work- 
manship, and  just  as  our  gratitude  was  beginning 
to  rise  to  the  donor,  some  bystanders  were  to 
endeavour  to  damp  it  all,  by  telling  us  tliat  the  gift 
is  the  product  of  certain  machinery  he  had  seen. 

"  I  call,"  says  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  "  the  effects 
of  nature  the  works  of  God,  whose  hand  and 
instrument  she  only  is  ;  and  therefore  to  ascribe 
His  actions  unto  her,  is  to  devolve  the  honour  of 
the  principal  agent  upon  the  instrument,  which  if 
with  reason  we  may  do,  then  let  our  hammers  rise 
up  and  boast  that  they  have  built  our  houses,  and 
our  pen  receive  the  honour  of  our  writings." 

It  is  surely  possible  for  us  so  to  expand  our  minds 
as  to  discover  both  the  agent  and  the  instrument — 
to  discover  the  goodness  of  God  in  the  blessing  sent, 
and  the  wisdom  of  God  in  the  means,  so  adapted  to 
our  state,  through  which  the  blessing  comes. 

—ArCosh. 

3.  Their  reg'ularlty  Is  a  reaton  for  thanksgiving 

(3177-)  I'  is  the  regularity  of  the  laws  of  nature 
which  leads  us  to  put  confidence  in  them,  and 
enables  us  to  make  profitable  use  of  them.  With- 
out such  order  and  uniformity  man  could  have  no 
motive  to  industry,  no  incentive  to  activity.  Dis- 
posed to  action,  he  would  ever  find  action  to  be 
useless,  for  he  could  not  ascertain  the  tendency,  and 
much  less  the  exact  effect  of  any  step  taken  by 
liim,  or  course  of  action  adoiHed.  Suppose  that, 
instead  of  rising  regularly  at  a  known  time,  the  sun 
were  to  appear  and  disappear  like  a  meteor,  no  one 
being  able  to  say  where,  or  when,  or  how,  all 
human  exertion  would  cease  in  a  feeling  of  utter 
hopelessness.  If,  instead  of  returning  in  a  regular 
manner,  the  seasons  were  to  follow  each  other 
capriciously,  so  that  spring  might  be  immediately 
succeeded  by  winter,  and  summer  preceded  by 
autumn,  then  the  labour  of  the  husbandman  would 
be  at  an  end,  and  the  human  race  would  perish 
from  the  earth.  In  such  a  slate  of  things  maid<ind 
would  not  have  sufficient  motive  to  do  such  common 
acts  as  to  partake  of  food,  for  they  could  not  anti- 
cipate that  loud  would  support  them.  With  such  a 
system,  or  rather  want  of  system,  pervading  the 
world,  suspicion  and  alarm  would  reign  in  every 
breast  ;  man  would  sink  into  indolence,  witli  all  the 
accompanying  evils  of  reckless  audacity  and  vice  ; 
"  fears  would  be  in  the  way,"  and  he  would  dread 
the  approach  of  danger  from  every  quarter ;  feel 
Uimsell  contused  as  in  a  dream,  or  lost  as  ia  dark- 


ness ;  or  rather,  after  leading  a  brief  and  troubled 
existence,  he  would  disa[)pear  from  the  earth. 

How  unreasonable,  then,  as  well  as  ungrateful, 
the  conduct  of  those  who  fail  to  discover  the  pre- 
sence of  God  in  His  works,  and  that  because  of  these 
laws,  so  beautiful  in  themselves,  and  benignant  in 
their  aspect  towards  us.  Every  person  sees  that 
the  blessings  which  God  lavished  upon  the  I  iebrews. 
in  that  desert  which  now  supports  but  four  thousand 
of  a  population,  but  was  made  to  support  upwards 
of  two  millions  and  a  half  for  a  period  of  forty  years, 
were  not  the  less,  but  all  the  more  the  gifts  of  God, 
from  the  circumstance  that  they  were  bestowed  in  a 
somewhat  regular  manner.  No  one  will  affirm  that 
the  manner  was  the  less  bountiful  proof  of  the  care 
of  God,  because,  in  order  to  suit  the  convenience  o( 
the  Israelites,  it  did  not  fall  irregularly,  but  at 
periodical  intervals,  and  was  gathered  every  morn- 
ing, that  those  who  partook  of  it  might  be  streng- 
thened for  the  journey  of  the  day.  And  will  any 
one  maintain  that  our  daily  food  is  less  the  gilt  of 
God,  because  it  is  sent  not  at  random,  but  in 
appointed  ways,  and  at  certain  seasons,  that  we 
may  be  ])repared  to  receive  it  ?  Was  the  water  of 
which  the  Isiaelites  drank  less  beneficent  because  it 
followed  them  all  the  way  through  tiie  wilderness? 
No  one  vvill  affirm  that  it  was  :  and  yet  ih.ere  are 
persons  who  feel  as  if  they  did  not  require  to  hs 
grateful  for  the  water  of  which  they  drink,  because 
it  comes  to  them  from  the  clouds  of  heaven,  and  the 
fountains  which  gush  from  the  earth. 

^Ye  condemn  the  Hebrews  when  we  read  of  their 
ingratitude,  and  yet  we  imitate  their  conduct. 
\Vhen  the  manna  first  fell,  and  they  saw  abundance 
of  food  on  the  previously  bare  face  of  the  desert, 
gratitude  heaved  in  every  breast  ;  but  how  short  a 
time  elapsed  till  they  began  to  look  upon  the 
manna  in  much  the  same  light  as  we  look  upon  the 
dews  of  the  evening,  or  the  crops  in  harvest — as 
something  regular  and  customary,  the  denial  of 
which  might  justify  complaint,  but  the  bestowal  of 
which  was  not  calculated  to  call  forth  thankhilness  I 
Because  the  water  flowed  with  them  through  all 
their  journey,  so  that  the  heat  of  a  burning  sun 
could  not  exhale  it,  nor  the  thirsting  sand  of  the 
desert  drink  it  u|i,  just  because  it  continuetl  all  the 
time  as  fresh  and  as  cool  as  when  it  leapt  from  its 
parent  reck,  they  came  to  regard  it  with  as  little 
wonder  as  we  do  the  stream  which  may  run  past 
our  dwelling.  The  pillar  of  cloud  hung  continually 
before  them,  so  that  the  rays  of  a  meridian  sun  could 
not  dissipate  it,  nor  the  winds  of  heaven  drive  it 
away;  and  they  came  at  last  to  be  no  more  grate- 
ful lor  it,  than  we  usually  are  for  the  light  of  the 
sun  returning  every  morning.  Just  because  this 
pillar  of  cloud  was  kindled  into  a  pillar  of  fire  every 
evening,  tiiey  became  as  familiar  with  it  as  we  are 
with  the  stars  which  God  lights  up  nightly  in  the 
firmament.  The  younger  portion  of  the  people, 
born  in  the  desert,  and  long  accustomed  to  these 
wonders,  may  have  come  to  look  upon  them  as 
altogether  natural,  and  would  no  more  be  surprised 
at  the  sight  ol  the  fiery  pillar  casting  its  lurid  giare 
upon  the  sands,  than  we  are  with  the  meteor  that 
Hashes  across  the  evening  sky.  Does  it  not  a[ipear 
as  if  it  were  the  very  frequency  of  the  gilt,  and  tlie 
regularity  of  its  coming,  which  lead  mankind  to 
forget  the  Giver?  It  is  as  if  a  gilt  were  lelt  every 
morning  at  our  door,  and  we  were  at  lengtli  to 
imagine  that  it  came  alone  without  being  sent.  I| 
is  as  if  the  widow  whose  meal  and  oil  were  blessed 


LAl^y. 


(  531    ) 


LA  IV. 


by  the  prophet,  had  come  at  length  to  imagine  tliat 
there  was  nothing  supernatural  in  the  transaction, 
just  because  the  barrel  of  meal  did  not  waste,  and 
the  cruse  of  oil  did  not  fail.  — M'CosA. 

4.  Their  relation  to  Providence. 

(3 1 78. )  We  are  not  jealous  of  the  introduction  and 
widest  extension  of  general  laws  ;  for  in  their  liar- 
monious  adjustment,  they  acquire  a  plastic  power 
which  enables  them  to  fulfil  each  of  the  providences 
of  an  all- wise  God.  While  the  fixed  nature  of  the  laws 
gives  to  providence  its  firmness,  the  immense 
number  and  nice  adaptation  of  these  laws,  like  the 
innumerable  rings  of  a  coat-of-mail,  give  to  it  its 
flexibility,  whereby  it  fits  in  to  the  shape  and  pos- 
ture of  every  individual  man. 

A  vessel  is  launched  on  the  ocean,  fitted,  so  far 
as  human  sagacity  can  discover,  to  reach  its  destina- 
tion. But  wlien  it  has  reached  a  particular  place,  a 
great  rarefaction  of  the  air  is  produced  by  heat  in 
a  particular  region  of  the  world  ;  the  wind  rushes 
in  to  fill  up  the  vacuum,  lashes  the  ocean  into  fury, 
bears  down  upon  the  vessel,  and  hurrying  it 
furiously  along,  dashes  it  upon  a  rock  which  is  in 
the  way,  and  scatters  the  whole  crew  upon  the  wide 
waste  of  waters.  The  greater  number  perish  ;  but 
some  two  or  three  are  able  to  lay  hold  of  portions 
of  the  floating  wreck,  and  are  borne  to  the  rock, 
where  they  find  refuge  till  another  ship,  opportunely 
passing  by,  picks  them  up,  at  the  very  time  when 
they  were  ready  to  die  nf  hunger.  Now,  it  is  surely 
conceivable  that  an  all-wise  and  an  onmipotent  God 
might  have  every  link  in  this  long  and  complicated 
chain  adjusted,  with  the  special  view  of  bringing 
al)i)ui  each  of  these  ends— the  drowning  of  some, 
and  the  saving  of  others,  after  having  designeiUy 
exposed  them  to  danger.  Nor  in  all  this  would 
there  be  any  violation  of  the  sequences  of  nature, 
nor  any  suspension  of  general  laws  ;  there  is  merely 
such  a  skilful  disposition  as  to  secure  the  special 
ends  which  God  from  the  first  contemplated. 

— ArCosh. 
6.  Their  relation  to  prayer. 

(3179.)  A  question  has  been  sometimes  started: 
how  specific  answers  to  prayer  can  comport  with 
the  regularity  of  Provi<lence,  and  the  government  of 
the  world  by  appointed  laws.  Unquestionably,  this 
is  one  of  the  deep  secrets  passing  our  limited  know- 
ledge, and  belonging  to  an  Infuiite  mind.  It  is  no 
deeper,  nor  harder  to  reconcile,  than  a  hundred 
other  facts  in  the  Divine  economy,  which  yet  vve 
must  admit,  or  deny  sense  and  faith  both  ;  such,  for 
example,  as  the  fact  that  we  are  all  free  to  choose 
how  we  shall  act,  and  yet  are  completely  bountl  in 
the  hands  of  Omnipotence  ;  that  God  is  almighty 
and  all-good,  and  yet  leaves  His  children  liberty 
to  do  wrong.  These  are  transcendent  mysteries, 
simply  because  they  are  the  doings  of  a  transcendent 
being — God.  In  the  end  we  shall  find,  1  suppose, 
that  there  is  no  more  contradiction  between  a  fixed 
order  of  laws  and  special  answers  to  our  asking,  than 
there  is  between  a  general  household  arrangement 
for  their  children's  good,  on  the  part  of  earthly 
parents,  and  their  daily  lavours  granted  in  answer 
to  particular  requests. 

—F.  D.  Huntington,  D.D. 

(3180.)  The  intervention  of  a  higher  intelligence 
does  not  interfere  with  the  existence  or  the  action  of 
laws  already  enacted.  Put  a  new  agent  imo  contact 
with  any  machinery,  and  you  may  direct  and  ax)diiy 


it,  but  you  do  not  therefore  destroy  and  supersede 
it.  When  an  intelligent  will,  however  limited  the 
power  of  that  will,  comes  into  connection  with 
mere  matter  and  the  laws  of  matter,  it  caimot  but 
influence  and  act  upon  them.  The  arm,  which  lifts 
a  weight,  modifies  the  law  of  gravity.  The  physician, 
who  ministers  medicine,  modifies  the  law  ol  life, 
and  arrests  the  law  of  dissolution.  The  lightning- 
rod,  which  draws  off  the  electricity,  uses  one  power 
of  nature  to  direct  the  force  of  another. 

And  if  we  acknowledge  that,  besides  the  finite 
intelligences  with  which  we  visibly  have  to  do, 
there  be  in  the  universe,  and  interested  in  its  pro- 
gress, other  and  higher  beings,  why  should  we 
think  it  unreasonable,  that  other  and  higher  agencies 
should  sometimes  be  at  work?  If  even  our  own 
forethought  can  often  guard  us  against  dangers, 
which  we  cannot  but  encounter,  if  we  can  by  care 
neutralise  the  poison  of  infected  airs,  or  restore 
health  to  a  diseased  frame,  or  protect  lofty  buildings 
from  the  lightning  and  the  thuiKlerbolt  ;  why  should 
we  question  but  that,  without  miraculously  susjiend- 
ing  His  own  laws,  the  great  iMmd,  which  pervades 
and  governs  all  things,  may  shelter  where  He 
willeth  from  the  storm  and  tempest,  may  ward  off 
the  arrow  that  flieth  by  day  and  the  pestilence  that 
walketh  in  the  darkness,  may  strike  down  the 
blasphemer  in  his  blasphemy,  or  make  a  higli  road 
for  His  redeemed  through  tlie  sea? 

There  is  indeed  another  view  of  this  subject,  on 
which  some  have  reasoned,  which  seems,  but  per- 
haps only  seems,  opposed  to  a  Providential  govern- 
ment. If  God  foresees  all  things,  and  formed  alJ 
things  from  the  first  according  to  His  loreknowledge, 
how  can  we  sujipose,  that  He  would  ever  intenere 
to  remedy  defects  in  His  own  orilinances,  which 
must  in  all  things  have  been  perfect,  and  which 
could  never  fail  ?  Is  it  not  more  true  to  say,  that 
from  the  beginning  He  so  planned  the  whole  scheme 
and  mechanism  of  the  universe,  so  knit  tOL;ether  the 
purposes  of  predestination,  that  everything  should 
turn  out  as  it  is  meet  it  should,  that  every  need 
should  but  precede  its  supply,  every  emergency 
should  already  be  anticipated,  every  foreseen  prayer 
should  fintl  an  answer  waiting  for  it,  and  that  no 
nevv  intervention  should  be  needed  to  make  all 
things  work  together  after  the  good  pleasure  of  His 
will?  Let  it  be  so.  Practically  it  can  matter  no- 
thing to  us,  whether  our  prayers  were  anticipated 
and  their  petitions  answered  before  God  lai<i  the 
foundation  of  the  deep  :  or  whether  there  be  an 
Ear  ever  open  in  Heaven,  and  a  mighty  Hand  ever 
ready  upon  earth.  — Hai-oLd  Browne. 

(3181.)  We  are  told  that  the  uniformity  of  the 
laws  of  nature  forbids  us  to  expect  any  answer  to 
prayer  —  that  the  universe  is  governed  by  un- 
deviating  laws,  and  that  no  alteration  in  the  move- 
ment of  the  great  machine  is  possible.  But  natural 
laws  are  merely  the  resemblances  we  trace  in  the 
phenomena  o!  nature  :  and  these  are  the  works  of 
God.  Laws  themselves  have  no  power  to  work. 
God  works — but  is  He  so  bound  by  the  methods 
which  He  has  generally  ailopted,  that  even  His 
Omnipotence  cannot  act  in  any  other  way  ?  Is  not 
the  Creator  greater  than  the  creation — the  Ruler 
than  His  laws?  Is  He  shut  out  from  the  work  of 
His  own  hands?  Will  pliilosophers  limit  the  Al- 
mighty ?  He  did  actually  interfere  at  the  Creation. 
The  world  is  not  eternal.  It  indicates  successive 
acts  of  intervention.     All  things  have  not  continued 


LAW. 


{     532     ) 


LAW. 


S5  they  were  from  the  beginning.  He  who  has 
Interposed  aheady  may  assuredly  interpose  again. 
Why,  then,  jnay  He  not  so  far  interpose  as  to 
"deliver  us"  A'hen  we  "call  upon  Him  in  the  day 
of  trouble  "  ? 

It  is  some;iines  said  that  intervention  on  the 
domain  of  natural  laws  is  a  miracle,  and  that  as 
miracles  do  not  take  place  now,  if  they  ever  did, 
ihere  can  be  no  intervention.  But  is  this  principle 
sound  ?  Do  we  not  ourselves  interpose  in  connection 
with  the  operation  of  natural  laws,  and  yet  perform 
no  miracle  ?  We  say  that  it  is  by  gravitation  this 
book  falls  thus  upon  the  desk.  Yet  when  next  it 
falls  I  may,  by  an  exercise  of  will,  stretch  forth  my 
hand  and  stop  it — thus.  It  is  a  natural  law  that 
bodies  at  rest  remain  at  rest.  Yet  by  my  volition 
I  move  this  hand  which  moves  this  book.  Thus 
my  will  has  intervened  in  the  operation  of  natural 
laws — yet  without  a  miracle.  Cannot  the  Creator 
intervene  ? 

Your  child  is  falling  from  a  window.  By  the 
action  of  a  natural  law  he  will  be  killed.  But  he 
cries  out  for  help — "Father!  father!"  Hearing 
his  call,  in  this  his  day  of  trouble,  you  rush  forth 
and  catch  him  in  your  arms.  Your  child  is  saved. 
Natural  law  would  have  killed  him,  but  you  inter- 
posed, and,  without  a  miracle,  saved  him.  And 
cannot  the  great  Father  of  all  do  what  an  earthly 
parent  does  ?  And  if  in  the  day  of  adversity  we, 
while  falling,  cry  to  Him  for  succour,  can  He  not 
deliver  us  ?  You  are  ill.  The  disease,  unchecked, 
will  cause  death.  Natural  law,  unless  interfered 
vtrith,  must  be  your  destruction.  But  you  call  in 
a  physician,  and  he,  by  his  skill,  by  his  volition, 
interposes  with  his  remedies,  and  the  disease  is 
cur«d.  Cannot  God  do  what  man  does?  Is  the 
Great  Physician  more  limited  than  His  creatures? 
And  when  we  call  on  Him  in  the  day  ol  the  sick- 
ness of  ourselves  or  of  our  friends,  can  He  not  in 
like  manner,  and  without  a  miracle,  help  and  heal 
us  ?  — Newman  Hail. 

(3182.)  This  everlasting  twaddle  of  infidelity 
about  fixed  natural  laws  is  simple  foolishness. 

I  should  like  to  know,  now,  it  man  even  has  not 
as  much  power  over  natural  laws  wherever  they 
touch  him,  as  natural  laws  have  over  him.  True, 
God  says  to  man,  in  one  place,  "Obey,"  but  in 
other  places  He  says,  "  Command  !" 

Nature  can  work  roughly  and  coarsely  in  genera- 
lities ;  but  she  needs  men's  intellect  and  will  to  give 
effect  to  what  she  does.  Through  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  years  she  tried  her  hand  at  making 
apples,  and  they  were  but  crab-apules  at  last.  Man 
said,  "  1  will  help  you  ;  "  and  by  his  industry  and 
wisdom,  ihe  sour,  miserable  fruit  soon  covered  all 
the  hills  with  luscious  apples.' 

I  have  power  over  nature's  laws  to  make  them 
work  for  my  own  and  my  children's  good.  1  can 
make  the  lightning  my  amanuensis  and  my  mes- 
senger. 1  can  make  the  sun  himself  my  artist  ;  but 
when  did  ever  the  unassisted  sun  paint  a  picture  ? 
Man  whispers  to  him,  "  (Jome  dovvn  here,  and  I 
will  tell  tiiee  something  that  thou  knowest  not," 
Hnd  the  sun  obeys.  "  Go'  through  there,"  says 
man,  and  the  sun  goes  through,  and  finds  himself 
painting  pictures.  1  should  like  to  see  him  try  to 
do  that  alone.  I  can  say  to  the  sea,  "  Wait  on  my 
will,"  and  it  obeys  me  ;  to  the  stream,  "  Thou  lazy 
thing,  flow  no  longer  down  hill,  but  up,"  and  it 
flows  up.      When  i  turn  it  into  a  machine,  I  sa)  to 


the  water,  "  Grind,"  and  it  grinds  my  foocL 
Natural  laws  are  God's  horses,  and  He  says  to  man, 
"  Vault,"  and  he  who  can  ride  them  is  their  master. 
By  working  them  according  to  their  nature,  we  can 
make  them  to  do  a  million  things  that  they  could 
never  do  without  us.  By  obeying,  we  command. 
They  are  the  blind  giants  which  our  will  and  wisdom 
guide.  Is  not  this  true?  Have  I  peri)lexed  you 
with  metaphysics?  Have  I  not  rather  showed  you 
plain  facts,  which  you  can  follow  out  to  almost  any 
extent? 

Remember,  the  question  between  me  and  thj 
infidel  naturalist  is  not,  "  Does  God  disturb  natural 
laws  in  order  to  answer  the  pray  ers  of  His  people  ?  "  or, 
"  Does  He  do  violence  to  nature  that  He  may  do  any 
man  good?"  but  it  is  this,  "  Is  it  or  is  it  not  likely  that 
He  is  able  to  do  for  those  who  call  upon  Him  and 
whom  He  loves  as  well  as  man  can  do  by  means  of 
natural  law  for  those  dear  to  him?"  In  other 
words,  "Is  it  likely  that  one  who  has  given  to  His 
creatures  such  wonderful  power  over  laws  of  His 
own  creating,  should  be  Himself  so  bound  and 
hampered  by  them  that  there  should  be  with  Him 
no  possibility  of  any  modilication  of  their  working 
to  suit  circumstances  ?  "  The  idea  is  absurd,  and 
they  are  fools  who  indulge  it.  — Beecher, 

6.  Their  relation  to  human  activity. 

(3183.)  Human  activity  bears  the  same  relation 
to  natural  laws  that  the  rider  does  to  the  horse.  It 
is  the  horse  that  performs.  It  is  the  rider  that 
steers  and  guides  him.  Natural  laws,  of  themselves, 
are  brute  lorces,  wandering  wide,  and  doing  little. 
It  is  not  until  great  natural  laws,  if  I  may  say  so, 
are  inspired  by  human  volition  and  human  intelli- 
gence, that  they  become  productive  of  good- — that 
they  know  how  to  converge  and  co-operate  so  as  to 
multiply  blessings  upon  the  earth.  Without  natural 
laws  man  is  utterly  helpless.  Without  men  natural 
laws  are  largely  useless.  — Beecher. 

IV.    THE  MORAL  LAW. 

1.  Is  the  only  standard  of  righteousness. 

(3184.)  The  laws  of  men  are  not  our  rule.  'Tis 
too  narrow  and  short  to  commend  us  to  God,  to  be 
punctual  to  the  laws  ol  men  and  no  more.  Men 
make  laws  as  tailors  do  garments,  to  fit  the  crooked 
bodies  they  serve  for,  to  suit  the  humours  ol  the 
people  to  be  governed  by  these  laws  :  surely  they 
are  not  a  sufficient  rule  to  convince  us  of  sin,  and  to 
guide  us  to  true  happiness.  It  is  God's  prerogative 
to  give  a  law  to  the  conscience,  and  the  renewed 
motions  of  the  heart.  Human  laws  are  good  to 
establish  converse  with  man,  but  too  short  to  estab- 
lish communion  with  God  ;  and  therefore  we  must 
consult  with  the  rule  which  is  the  law  of  the  Lord, 
that  we  may  not  come  short  of  true  blessedness. 
— AJanlon,  1620-1667. 

2.  The  loftiness  of  its  standard. 

(3185.)  Every  one  of  God's  commandments  en- 
joins more  than  man,  in  his  native  state  ol  infirmity, 
can  accomplish  :  nay,  many  of  them  enjoin  lar  more 
than  man,  when  he  first  bears  them,  can  even 
understand  or  conceive.  An  infant  will  stretch  out 
its  liitle  hand  to  lay  hold  on  the  stars  :  the  unedu- 
cated lancy  they  are  stuck  in  the  Ijlue  vault,  a  few 
miles  otf  over  their  heads !  and  only  by  the  re- 
searches of  science  carried  on  for  century  after  cen- 
tury have  we  been  able  to  discover  their  enormous 


LA  W. 


(    533    ) 


LAW. 


distance,  and  that  each  little  speck  of  light  is  a 
world.  So  it  is  with  God's  law.  Some  of  its  com- 
niandments  are  within  the  reach  of  all  :  there  are 
some  that  all  may  keep  ;  and  by  keeping  them  we 
find  out  how  many  there  are  that  we  have  not  kept, 
and  cannot  keep  :  the  further  too  we  advance  in 
any  part  of  it,  the  further  the  horizon  recedes  before 
us.  Hare,  1796-1855. 

3.  Why  so  high  a  standard  Is  set  before  us. 

(31S6. )  But  here  some  man  may  object  and  say  : 
"  Is  any  man  able  to  do  tiiis  that  God  requires?  and 
if  he  be  not,  why  then  does  God  command  us  that 
which  we  cannot  perform?"  Herein  Almighty 
God  deals  with  us,  as  a  father  deals  with  his  chil- 
dren. If  a  man  have  a  son  of  seven  years  of  age,  he 
will  furnish  him  with  bow  and  arrows,  and  lead 
him  into  the  fields.  He  sets  him  to  shoot  at  a 
mark  that  is  twelve  score  paces  off,  promising  to 
give  him  some  goodly  thing  if  he  hit  the  mark. 
And  though  the  father  knows  that  the  child  cannot 
shoot  so  far,  yet  he  will  have  him  aim  at  a  mark 
beyond  his  reach,  thereby  to  try  the  strength  and 
forwardness  of  the  child.  And  though  he  shoot 
short,  yet  the  father  will  encourage  him.  Even  so 
Almighty  God  has  furnished  us  with  jutigment  and 
reason,  as  it  were  with  certain  artillery,  whereby  we 
are  able  to  distinguish  between  good  and  evil,  and 
sent  us  into  this  world,  as  it  were  into  the  open 
fields,  and  sets  His  law  before  us  as  a  mark,  as 
David  speaks,  promising  to  give  us  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  if  we  hit  the  same.  And  albeit  He  knows 
that  we  cannot  hit  this  mark,  that  is,  keep  the  law 
which  He  has  set  before  us  ;  yet  for  the  exercise  of 
our  faith,  and  for  the  testifying  of  our  duty  and 
obedience  towards  Him,  He  will  always  have  us 
be  aiming  at  it.  And  though  we  come  short  of 
that  duty  and  obedience  which  He  requires  at  our 
hands,  yet  doth  He  accept  and  reward  our  good 
endeavour.  — Henry  Umitli,  1560-1591. 

4.  Its  sacredness. 

(3187.)  The  apostle  St.  James  says,  "Whosoever 
shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet  offend  in  one 
point,  is  guilty  of  all."  This  seems  hard  measure — 
to  make  a  man  offender  for  a  word— to  treat  him 
for  breaking  one  commandment  as  one  that  had 
broken  all  the  ten.  li  looks  at  first  sight  as  if  the 
unprofitable  servant  who  hid  his  master's  talent  in 
a  napkin,  had  some  reason  for  speaking  of  him  as 
an  "austere"  man.  How  do  we  justify  that  ?  We 
might  leave  God  to  justify  Himself?  We  might 
ask,  "Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do 
right  ? "  And  leaving  this  and  many  other  mys- 
teries to  be  solved  at  the  last  day,  or  in  that 
world  where,  with  eyes  purified  from  the  mists  of 
sin,  we  shall  see  as  we  are  seen,  and  know  as  we 
are  known,  we  might  answer  with  St.  Paul,  "Who 
art  thou,  O  man,  that  repliest  against  God  ?  Shall 
the  thing  made  say  to  Him  who  made  it,  Why  hast 
thou  made  me  thus?"  But  the  case  is  not  without 
a  parallel  in  our  own  judicial  proceedings  ;  and  as 
done  in  our  courts  of  law,  who  thinks  the  practice 
wrong  ?  A  witness  is  giving  evidence  in  a  case 
where  a  man  is  on  trial  for  his  liie.  He  states 
many,  as  lawyers  say,  damning  facts,  and  makes 
out  a  case  against  the  accused  clear  as  daylight. 
What  need  of  further  witnesses?  The  jury  lay 
down  their  pens,  the  judge  throws  himself  back  in 
his  seat,  and  the  spectators,  turning  to  the  poor, 
pale  wretch  ai  the  bar,  look  on  him  as  a  dead  man, 


feeling  as  sure  that  he  will  be  hanged  as  that  the 
svm  shall  rise  to-morrow.  And  yet  he  is  not  hanged 
— the  tables  are  turned  an  instant.  The  witness 
whose  evidence  had  brought  him  to  the  scaffold, 
and  to  the  very  brink  of  ruin,  tells  a  lie — one  clear, 
deliberate  falsehood.  It  may  be  on  a  very  sriall. 
point ;  it  does  not  matter.  AH  his  other  eviderce 
may  be  true  as  the  gospel — it  does  not  matter  ;  that 
one  lie  nullifies  all  his  other  testimony.  Convicted 
of  perjury  on  one  point,  his  evidence  is  dealt  with 
as  if  he  had  been  guilty  of  perjury  in  all ;  and  that 
for  this  good  reason — that  one  capable  of  swearing 
to  a  single  lie,  is  capable  of  swearing  to  twenty. 
Even  so— though  you  may  start  at  the  bold  asser- 
tion, and  when  you  think  of  some  gross  and  horrid 
sins  may  be  ready  to  exclaim,  "is  thy  servant  a 
dog  that  he  should  do  such  a  thing?"  the  man  who 
is  capable  of  breaking  one  of  God's  commandments 
is  cnpable  of  breaking  them  all,  in  mind  and 
spirit ;  "  he  that  offendeth  in  one  point  is  guilty  of 
alL" 

There  are  degrees,  no  doubt,  of  guilt,  as  there  are 
degrees  of  glory.  Still  there  is  no  degree  of  guilt 
but  is  fatal  ;  sin  is  a  poison  of  which  the  smallest 
drop  kills  ;  the  law  is  so  sacred,  that  one  offence, 
one  breach  of  any  of  its  commandments,  exposes  us 
to  the  wrath  of  God  as  certainly  as  a  thousand. 
The  case  finds  its  apt  illustration  in  yonder  arch 
which  spans  the  waters  that  reflect  its  bending, 
beautiful  form — drive  out  not  ten  stones,  but  one, 
and  the  whole  pile  tumbles  into  a  mass  of  ruins. 
Or  to  vary  the  figure,  a  woman's  virtue  is  certainly 
lost  by  one  fall  as  by  twenty  ;  and  he  is  as  certainly 
a  thief  who  steals  a  penny  as  he  who  steals  a  pound 
— who  filches  but  a  farthing  from  a  ragged  beggar, 
as  he  who  plunders  a  bank  of  its  gold,  or  robs  a 
king  of  his  crown.  "  He  who  offendeth  in  one 
point  is  guilty  of  all."  — Guchrie. 

5.  Is  inexorable. 

(3188.)  God's  law  is  His  manifested  will  for  the 
government  of  His  creatures.  It  is  the  reflection 
cast  down  on  earth  of  His  own  holiness.  It  is  holy, 
and  just,  and  good  ;  it  is  perfect  as  its  Author ;  it 
knows  of  no  compromise ;  it  cannot  bend,  by  a 
hair's  -  breadth,  to  keep  a  whole  world  of  human 
kind  from  sinking  into  everlasting  perdition. 

Observe  the  steadfastness  of  God's  laws,  as  applied 
to  material  things.  The  ocean  is  under  law  to  God, 
and  by  that  law  it  would  engulf  the  whole  human 
race,  without  swerving  from  its  even  course,  if  they 
were  cast  upon  it  without  protection.  It  is  God's 
law,  and  His  laws  are  all  sure  ;  they  are  not  "yea, 
yea,  and  nay,  nay.'' 

His  moral  law,  ruling  spirits,  is  as  inexorable  as 
His  physical  law,  ruling  matter.  It  knows  of  no 
yielding,  no  compunction. 

The  ocean  would  submerge  a  million  of  men,  and 
the  next  moment  its  waves  would  roll  and  play  in 
the  same  regular  succession  as  before  ;  there  would 
be  no  staggering  of  resolution,  no  change  of 
purpose.  He  wiio  made  the  sea  may  miraculously 
walk  on  the  waves  and  stretch  out  His  hand  to  the 
perishing  ;  but  the  sea's  law  is  changeless  and  piti- 
less, ll  another  million  sliould  be  thrown  upon 
the  water,  they  would  be  swallowed  up  in  the  same 
way. 

buch  also  is  God's  law  for  moral  beings  ;  it  has 
no  softness  lor  indulged  sins.  Yourselves  may  have 
a  partiality  lor  them,  and  think  it  hard  that  wrath 
should  come  upon  them  to  the  uttermost ;  but  tha 


LAW. 


(    534    ) 


LAW. 


law  of  Cod  does  not  participate  in  that  tenderness 
for  tiavourite  lusts.  It  meets  you  there  like  the 
ocean  :  "  The  soul  tliat  sinneth,  it  shall  die."  It 
never  changes,  and  never  repents.  If  you  sin  and 
perish,  its  waves  roll  over  you  unchanged,  to  meet 
the  next  comer  with  the  same  demand  :  "  7 he  soul 
thai  siiuut/i,  it  shall  die. " 

The  law  never  saved  a  sinner  ;  if  it  did,  it  would 
be  no  longer  a  law.  If  it  softened  and  yielded  at 
any  one  point,  it  were  absolutely  annulled.  If  any  sin 
or  any  sinner  is  allowed  to  pass,  where  is  the  justice 
of  punishing  any  sin  or  any  sinner?  To  bend  any 
commandment  for  the  accommodation  of  a  defaulter 
is  to  blot  out  the  law.  The  law,  by  its  very  nature, 
can  have  no  partialities  and  no  compunctions.  It 
never  saves  those  who  transgress  ;  and  never  weeps 
for  those  who  perish.  It  is  hard  for  a  man  with 
warm  life  in  his  iiody  to  sink  beneath  the  waves, 
and  struggle  a  while,  and  be  choked,  -nd  die  in  the 
deep  unseen  ;  yet  though  the  case  is  pitiable,  no 
one  expects  that  the  sea  will  become  pitiful,  and 
shrink  back  refusing  to  be  the  executioner.  So 
God's  other  law  knows  no  relenting  ;  transgressors 
are  reckoning  without  their  host  when  they  expect 
to  escape  by  its  softness  in  " Ihai  day." 

— A  mot. 

6.  Is  binding'  even  on  fallen  man. 

{3189.)  Righteousness  is  a  debt  the  creature,  as 
a  rational  creature,  owes  to  God,  and  cannot  refuse 
the  paymentof  it  withouta  crime.  Whodeprived  him 
of  the  power  of  paying?  Himself.  Should  this 
voluntary  embezzlement  prejudice  God's  right  of 
exacting  that  which  the  creature  cannot  be  excused 
from  ?  A  debtor,  who  cannot  pay,  remains  under 
the  obligation  of  paying.  The  receipt  of  a  sum  of 
money  brings  him  into  the  relation  of  a  debtor,  and 
not  his  ability  to  pay  what  he  has  received.  Such 
a  doctiine  would  free  all  men  who  were  unable  to 
pay  froni  being  debtors,  though  the  sums  they  owed 
■were  never  so  vast.  That  judge  would  be  unjust 
that  would  excuse  a  prodigal  debtor  because  he 
could  not  pay  when  sued  by  his  creditor.  No 
doubt  the  de\  ils  are  bouml  to  serve  God  and  love 
Him,  though  by  their  revolt  they  must  have  lost 
will  to  obey  Him.  If  because  we  have  no  present 
power,  our  obligation  to  turn  to  God  and  obey  Him 
ceased,  there  would  be  no  sin  in  the  workl,  and 
consequently  no  judgments.  Who  will  say,  that  if 
a  prince  had  such  rebellious  subjects  that  there 
were  little  hopes  to  reclaim  them,  he  should  be 
therefore  bound  not  to  commanci  them  to  return  to 
their  duty  and  obedience?  II  it  be  reasonable  in 
a  prince,  whose  rights  are  limited,  shall  it  not  be 
reasonable  in  God  to  exact  it,  who  has  an  unbounded 
right  over  His  creature?  Either  God  must  keep 
up  His  law  or  abrogate  it ;  or,  which  is  all  one,  let 
it  lie  in  the  dust.  His  holiness  obliges  Him  to  keep 
up  His  law  ;  to  abrogate  it,  therefore,  would  be 
against  His  holiness.  I'o  declare  a  willingness  that 
His  creatuie  should  not  love  Him,  shoukl  not  obey 
Him,  would  be  to  tleclare  that  which  is  unjust,  be- 
cause love  is  a  just  debt  to  an  amiable  object  and 
the  chief  good,  and  obedience,  to  a  sovereign  Lord. 
Must  God  change  His  holiness  because  man  has 
changed  his  estate?  — Chariiock,  1628-16S0. 

(3190.)  Though  weakened  through  the  flesh,  God 
may  justly  command  His  fallen  creatures  to  keep 
His  commandments  diligently.  Il  we  have  lost 
our  power,  there  is  no  reason  God  should  los^  His 
right.      If  yair  servants  should  fall  \ulo  habits  of 


drunkenness,  would  you  admit  this  for  a  plea  fof 
neglecting  your  business,  or  coming  short  in  it  ?  At 
such  times  he  is  unable  to  do  his  master's  work,  but 
he  is  bound  to  it,  Il  is  altogether  unreasonable 
that  another  should  suffer  through  my  default, 

— Waller. 

7.  In  what  sense  it  la  "  tbe  occasion  of  sin." 
(3191.)  To  call  the  law  impotent  would  often- 
times express  a  part  of  the  mischief  whereof  it  was 
the  occasion.  The  commandment  coming,  would 
not  seldom  of  it.■^elf  stir  up  the  opposition  which 
was  slumbering  before,  awake  up  for  the  hrst  time 
a  rebellious  principle  in  the  heart  of  man,  so  that 
the  very  forbitlding  him  to  do  the  thing  should 
arouse  in  him  the  desire  to  do  it.  This,  the  irritat- 
ing power  of  the  law,  provoking  by  a  spirit  of  con- 
tradiction the  very  evil  which  itself  forbatle, — just 
as  a  rock  flung  into  the  bed  of  some  headlong 
stream,  would  not  arrest  the  stream,  but  only  cause 
it,  which  ran  swiftly  yet  silently  before,  now 
furiously  to  foam  and  fret  round  the  obstacle  which 
it  found  in  its  path, — this  irritating  power  of  the 
law,  itself  a  most  fearful  testimony  of  the  depth  of 
man's  fall,  St.  Paul  olten  dwells  on,  above  all  in 
the  seventh  chapter  of  the  Romans  :  "  I  was  alive," 
he  says  there,  "without  the  law  once,"  counted, 
myself  alive,  was  not  conscious  of  the  deep  anta- 
gonism between  my  will  and  the  will  ol  God  :  "  but 
when  tlie  commandment  came,  sin  revived,"  started 
up  from  its  seeming  tiance  into  fierce  activity,  into 
an  open  rebellion,  "and  Idled,"  So,  too,  in  another 
place,  "  Th.e  motions  of  sins  which  were  by  the 
law,  did  work  in  our  members  to  bring  forth  fruit 
unto  death. "  — Irench. 

8,  Its  ministration  of  condemnation. 

(3192.)  /Vs  a  looking-glass  doth  neither  wash  nor 
make  him  lair  tliat  luoketii  therein,  but  giveth  him 
occasion  either  to  seek  for  water  or  else  for  some 
other  thing  that  may  make  him  fair  and  clean  : 
even  so  the  law  showeth  unto  us  our  sins,  and 
maketh  known  unto  us  our  miserable  estate  and 
wretchedness,  and  how  that  there  is  nothing  good 
in  us,  and  that  we  are  far  oft  from  all  manner  of 
rigliteousness,  and  so  driveth  us  of  necessity  to 
seek  righteousness  in  Christ. 

—  Cawdray,  1609. 

(3193,)  Let  a  boy  who  is  unskilled  in  the  use  of 
tools  take  a  board  and  try  to  ])lane  it  straight,  and 
then  let  him  take  a  straight-eiige  and  lay  it  on,  A 
rat  could  run  between  that  edge  and  the  board  in  a 
dozen  places  !  A  man  seems  all  right  to  himself 
while  he  measures  himself  by  conceit  and  seli-love  ; 
but  let  him  take  God's  law  as  a  slraight-edL;e,  and 
lay  it  alongside  of  his  faculties,  and  acconiiiig  to 
that  test  every  one  of  them  is  crooked — not  one  of 
them  is  straight.  — Beecrier. 

(3194.)  "By  the  law  is  the  knowledge  of  sin." 
In  delineating  his  spiritual  life,  in  all  its  strugi;ling 
and  victories,  through  all  the  phases  which  moral 
being  could  assume,  the  apostle  gives  us  to  under- 
stand how  law  operated  in  the  settlement  of  his 
convictions  and  duties  :  "  I  had  not  known  sin  but 
by  the  law  ;  lor  1  had  not  known  lust  except  the 
law  had  said.  Thou  slialt  not  covet." 

The  simplest  of  illustrations  shall  bring  the 
meaning  of  the  assertion,  that  law  defmes  and 
limits  liberty,  within  the  comprehension  of  a  child. 
For  a  len^jth  of  time  you  have  been  in  the  habit  of 


LA  W. 


(    535    ) 


LAW. 


regarding  certain  fields  as  common  property  ;  attain 
and  again  you  have  struck  your  course  across  them 
to  shorten  or  vary  a  journey.  You  were  totally 
indift'erent  as  to  their  proprietorship.  The  idea 
that  you  were  tres]iassing  never  occurred  to  you. 
So  far  as  you  knew,  there  was  no  law  whatever  in 
the  case.  In  process  of  time,  however,  the  pro- 
prietor determines  to  assert  his  right  to  his  own 
land.  \Vith  this  end  in  view,  he  gives  public 
intimation  that  all  persons  found  upon  his  property 
will  be  dealt  with  as  trespassers.  He  proclaims  a 
law.  fie  sets  up  in  his  field  a  ministration  of 
condemnation.  From  that  hour  the  whole  ques- 
tion of  your  liberty  undergoes  a  fundamental  change. 
The  altered  circumstances  compel  all  who  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  traversing  the  land  with  im- 
punity to  say,  in  effect,  "In  this  case  we  had  not 
known  transgression,  except  the  law  had  said, 
Thou  shalt  not  trespass."  — Jcscph  Parker. 

(3195.)  Let  me  suppose  that  as  heads  of  houses 
you  had  not  for  a  long  time  felt  the  necessity  of 
requiring  all  the  members  ol  your  households  to  be 
at  home  by  a  fixed  hour.  Had  they  returned  at 
seven,  eight,  or  nine,  they  would  have  been  received 
with  equal  cordiality.  In  the  working  of  3'our 
family  life,  however,  you  find  it  necessary  to  deter- 
mine an  hour  at  which  every  child  shall  be  with 
you.  To  that  effect  you  proclaim  your  law.  ]n 
the  process  of  events,  I  further  suppose,  one  of 
your  children  is  a  mile  off  when  the  well-known 
hour  strikes.  What  is  the  consequence  in  his  own 
experience?  He  hears  stroke  after  stroke  without 
alarm,  until,  alas  !  the  legal  hour  is  pealed  olT. 
How  that  stroke  shakes  him  I  how  harsh  the  vibra- 
tion :  how  reproachful  the  shivering  lone !  A 
week  before,  he  could  have  heard  the  same  hour 
strike,  and  could  have  sung  to  it  Nothing  would 
have  alarmed  him.  No  ghostly  accuser  would  have 
been  upon  his  track.  He  now  feels  that  the  law 
is  "the  ministration  of  condemnation."  He  says, 
•'  I  am  late ;  I  should  have  been  at  home  ;  my 
father's  eye  will  reprove  me  :  I  had  not  known 
sin  but  by  the  law,  lor  I  had  not  known  irregulariiy 
in  time,  except  the  law  had  said.  Thou  slialt  be 
punctual."  — Joseph  Parker. 

9.  Is  terrible  only  to  transgressors. 

(3196.)  To  the  unrenewed  man  ihe  law  comes  to 
condenm  and  to  slay,  and  no  man  can  see  beauty 
in  his  executioner.  The  poignard  that  is  lilted  up 
to  strike  us  dead  may  be  beautifully  chased.  Its 
hilt  may  be  one  blaze  of  precious  stones.  It  may 
be  wiekled  by  a  stalwart  hand.  But  the  dead'y 
point  of  the  thing  fascinates  us.  The  chasing  and 
the  jewellery  are  all  lost  upon  us.  So  it  is  with 
the  man  wiiom  the  law  approaches  only  to  condemn 
and  to  slay.  He  sees  the  dart  ;  he  he;irs  the  threat; 
he  is  conscious  of  the  uplilted  arm  ;  all  the  beauty 
is  hid  from  his  fascinated  vision.  But  the  reneued 
man  not  only  has  the  faculty  by  which  beauty  is 
perceived  restored  to  active  exercise  :  his  relation 
to  the  law  is  so  rectified  that  his  mind  can  calmly 
take  in  the  whole  impression  of  it.  The  beauty  of 
the  law  is  spread  out  before  him  — the  beauty  of 
tlie  Law  of  God.  — Alexander  IJannay, 

(3197-)  "Your  appearance  is  very  formidable," 
said  the  Drum  to  the  great  Gun  upon  the  ramparts. 

"I  am  made  of  item  m;tal,"  replied  the  Gun. 

"It  is  very  terrible  to  hear  your  voice  some- 
times,' ihE  Drum  rcinaiked* 


"  I  can  speak  in  words  of  thunder  when  neces- 
sary," answered  the  great  Gun. 

"True — when  necessary,"  said  the  Drum. 

"  In  case  of  rebellion,  and  to  foes,  I  carry  de- 
struction and  death,"  it  replied  ;  "but  towards  all 
others  my  disposition  is  quite  pacific,  and  1  am 
perfectly  harmless." 

"I  am  the  more  sensible  of  my  own  utter  help- 
lessness in  your  presence,"  said  the  Drum  with 
humility. 

"You  need,  however,  entertain  no  fears,  seeing 
we  are  alike  the  liege  subjects  of  the  same  sove- 
reign," replied  the  great  Gun. 

The  Law  of  God  is  the  declaration  of  His  holi- 
ness, truth,  and  justice,  which  was  given  to  govern 
the  world,  and  will  inflict  death  upon  all  the  dis- 
obedient. "  Wherefore  the  law  is  holy,  and  the 
commandment  holy,  and  just,  and  good."  The  law 
is  peaceful  toward  sinners  only  in  Christ  Jesus.  We 
have  all  rel)elled  against  God  by  our  sins  ;  but  the 
Gospel  reveals  the  Atonement  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
C^hrist  on  behalf  of  all  that  believe.  The  Law  is 
therefore  on  our  side  if  believers,  and  we  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  its  power.  — Bowden. 

10.  In  what  sense  it  is  a  restraint. 

(3198.)  God's  Word  is  certainly  a  restraint  ;  but 
it  is  such  a  restraint  as  the  irons  which  prevent 
children  from  getting  into  the  fire. 

— Newton,  1725- 1807. 

(3199.)  The  liberty  of  the  subject  could  never  be 
preserved  in  a  lawless  state  of  society,  but  violence 
and  tyranny  would  reduce  to  a  slavish  obedience 
the  weak  and  the  timid.  The  palladium  of  civil 
liberty  is  law ;  law  well  defined,  excluding  the 
fluctuations  of  caprice  on  one  side,  and  of  aggres- 
sion on  the  other  ;  law  rigorously  executed  also, 
for  the  best  code  is  a  dead  letter  if  it  be  not  accom- 
panied by  a  living  and  firm  executive.  So  the  liberty 
of  the  believer  is  secured  by  the  law  of  God,  when 
brought  under  its  guidance  and  government.  While 
living  under  the  misrule  of  his  fallen  nature,  he  is 
the  sport  of  every  capricious  imagination,  and 
successively  the  slave  of  his  predominant  pas'^ions 
(Rom.  vi.  16).  But  let  Christ's  government  be  set 
up,  and  he  becomes  Q\\x\%,\.' %  freeman  ;  "sin  has  no 
longer  dominion  over  him  ;  "  he  is  no  longer  its 
wretched  captive,  but  is  under  gracious  law,  for 
"where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty." 

— i>  alter. 

11,  Has  its  source  in  love. 

(3200.)  It  is  worthy  our  observation,  that  all  the 
virtues  that  God  requires  us  to-  exercise,  which 
respect  ourselves,  are  not  only  plea>ing  to  Him, 
but  are  profitable  and  conducive  to  our  present 
well-being  and  tranquillity  ;  such  as  temperance, 
chastity,  meel-cness,  contenledness,  &c.  And  all 
the  vices  He  has  forbidden  have  a  direct  tendency 
to  our  ill-being  and  disquiet ;  such  as  gluttony, 
drunkenness,  anger,  envy,  &c. 

—  T.  Fuller,  1608- 1 66 1. 

(3201.)  The  spring  of  the  law  is  love.  With  its 
"Thou  shalt  not  do  this,  '  and  "Thou  shalt  not  do 
that,"  the  law  presents  rather  an  ungracious  asjjcct. 
We  like  ill  to  be  bidden,  but  worse  to  be  forbidden. 
But  does  L.ove  never  forbid  ?  A  mother,  does  she 
never  forbid  her  child  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  indulge 
every  caprice  and  grant  all  its  wishes?  Huw  disas- 
trous the  fate  and  brief  the  life  of  a  child  denied 


LAJV. 


(    536    ) 


LAW. 


nothing,  indulged  in  everything — allowed  to  play 
with  fire,  or  fire-arms ;  to  devour  the  painted  but 
poisonous  fruit — to  bathe  where  the  tide  runs  like  a 
racehorse  or  the  river  rushes  roaring  into  the  black 
swii  ling  pool.  And  he  who  frets  against  the  restraints 
of  God's  holy  law  because  it  forbids  this  and  the 
otiier  tiling,  is  no  wiser  than  the  infant  who  weeps, 
and  screams,  and  struggles,  and  perhaps  beats  tiie 
kind  bosoai  tliat  nurses  it,  because  its  mother  has 
snatched  a  knife  from  its  foolish  hands. 

— Guthne. 

12.  Is  not  burdensome  to  those  who  love  God. 
(3202.)  To   a   saint,   Christ's  ia«s  are    no   more 

burdensome  than  wings  are  to  a  bird. 

—  iValson,  1696. 

13.  InsufBciency  of  its  work. 

(i.)  It  reveals  trtu  bliss,  but  does  not  enable  us  to 
attain  it. 

(3203.)  Like  as  if  a  man  should  show  a  needy 
body  a  bag  of  gold  upon  the  top  of  a  high  tower,  and 
yet  not  lend  him  a  ladder  wherewitlial  he  might 
climb  up  to  the  top  and  fetch  down  the  bag  :  even 
so  doth  God's  law  only  point  men  to  the  sovereign 
good,  without  showing  us  how  we  may  come  by  it, 
seeing  that  no  man  fulfilleth  the  law. 

— Cawdray,  1 609. 

(2.)  //  reveals  sin.  Out  does  not  save  the  sinner. 

(3204.)  A  rock  at  mid-channel  of  a  river,  pro- 
truding above  the  surface,  reveals  the  current  by 
opposing  it.  An  obstruction  makes  known  both 
the  direction  and  the  velocity  of  the  river's  flow. 
But  the  rock  that  detects  the  movement  did  not 
produce  it.  Such  is  the  relation  between  sin  in 
the  soul,  and  the  law  which  reveals  it.  Life  is 
rolling  downward  like  a  river, — one  great  volume 
of  enmity  against  God.  Because  all  is  sin,  the  self- 
deceived  man  does  not  notice  tiiat  there  is  any. 
When  the  law  of  God  gets  a  footing  within,  a  com- 
motion round  the  point  of  contact  suddenly  makes 
it  known  that  hitherto  the  whole  life  has  been 
"without  God  in  the  world." 

Further  :  as  the  rock  in  the  river's  bed  did  not 
cause,  neither  is  it  able  to  reverse,  the  current.  It 
can  only  show  that  there  is  a  stream,  giving  some 
indication  of  its  direction  and  its  speed.  Although 
impeded  and  chafed  into  foam  at  the  spot,  the 
river  rises  to  the  difficulty,  and  rushes  down  more 
rapidly  than  before.  It  is  thus  with  the  command- 
ment when  it  opposes  sin  in  a  human  heart.  If  it 
remain  alone,  although  it  has  power  to  disturb,  it 
has  not  power  to  renew.  — Arnot. 

(3205.)  Though  the  law,  like  flaming  fire  and 
stormy  winds,  becomes  God's  messenger  to  run  His 
errands  of  mercy,  yet  the  saved  owe  their  salvation 
all  to  Christ. 

I  awake  from  a  swoon,  alone.  The  fathomless 
sea  is  beneath  me,  the  lathomless  sky  above  me, 
and  I  am  clinging  convulsively  to  some  broken  bits 
of  wood.  The  burning,  sinking  ship — the  shrieking, 
drowning  crowd, — 1  can  scarcely  be  said  to  remem- 
ber :  a  dim,  faintly-outlined  image  ol  them  hovers 
like  mist  about  my  troubled  brain.  The  sky  grows 
dark,  the  wind  ^rows  stormy,  the  waves  leap 
higher,  the  little  raft  is  rending  ;  I  am  sink — sinkmg 
in  the  sea  alone.  Will  these  terrors  drive  me  from 
my  Irail  resting-place?  In  these  extremities  will  1 
let  my  lailiug  loothold  go  ?     Yes,  if  I  see  tne  life- 


boat bearing  down  upon  me,  and  feel  a  line  from 
her  bows  falling  athwart  my  body,  and  hear  a 
brother's  shout  above  the  storm,  "  Hold  fast  by 
this  and  you  are  safe  ! "  The  storm  above,  the 
waves  around,  the  rending  beneath  me,  will  not 
drive  me  off  my  bits  of  broken  wood,  unless  the 
life-boat  is  by  my  side.  Although  I  know  my 
standing  to  be  unsafe,  although  I  feel  it  going 
asunder,  I  will  cling  to  it  and  perish  with  it,  if 
nothing  better  is  within  my  reach. 

If  I  am  saved  lo-uay,  I  owe  much  to  the  law 
which  taught  me  that  I  was  lost,  but  more  to  Christ 
who  became  my  Saviour.  — Arnot. 

(3.)  It  terrifies  and  deters,  but  does  not  renew. 

(3206.)  If  the  ice  be  broken  but  over  night  by  the 
husbandman,  when  he  corner  the  next  day  he  linds 
it  frozen  up  again  ;  but  let  the  sun  dart  on  it  his 
warm  beams,  and  then  it  runs  down  in  streams  :  so 
the  breaking  of  the  heart  by  the  terrors  of  the  law, 
is  but  like  the  breaking  of  the  ice  with  a  pole  by 
the  husbandman  to  give  the  cattle  drink ;  but 
when  the  love  of  God  comes  to  the  heart,  then  the 
corruptions  of  the  heart  dissolve,  even  as  the  ice 
dissolves  when  the  warm  beams  of  the  sun  rest 
upon  it.  — Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

(3207.)  A  legally-convinced  person  would  only 
be  freed  from  the  pain,  an  evangelically-convinced 
person  from  the  sin,  the  true  cause  of  it.  Like 
swine,  they  would  not  have  the  cudgel,  but  they 
would  have  the  mire  ;  would  have  a  freedom  from 
the  lash  of  the  law,  but  hate  to  come  under  the 
yoke  of  Christ.  They  hate  the  iron  that  is  come 
into  their  side,  but  not  the  crime,  as  a  malefactor 
does  the  gaol  or  a  thief  the  gibbet.  Such  a  one 
had  rather  have  a  rotten  heart  than  a  painful  rack  ; 
he  had  rather  have  a  putrified  than  a  deep  incision. 
The  one  cries  for  a  plaster  to  ease  his  conscience, 
the  other  for  an  axe  to  be  laid  to  the  root  of  his  sio. 
— Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

(3208.)  A  legal  conviction  does  not  of  itself 
soften,  but  rather  harden  ;  an  evangelical  is  melting 
and  submissive.  The  making  a  fleshy  heait  and 
disposing  it  to  such  a  frame,  is  the  incommunicable 
property  of  the  covenant  of  grace,  and  was  never 
within  the  verge  and  compass  of  the  law.  The  law, 
like  a  cannon,  thunders  only  bullets  and  cursing, 
not  a  word  of  a  promise  but  to  perfect  righteous- 
ness ;  therefore  a  legal  conviction  cannot  be  attended 
with  any  melting  Iruit.  It  is  like  a  hammer  that 
may  break  a  stone  in  pieces,  yet  every  part  retains 
its  hardness.  After  a  mere  legal  conviction,  the 
heart  is  commonly  harder,  as  water,  if  it  grow 
cold  after  it  is  heated,  freezes  harder  than  it  would 
have  done  if  it  had  retained  its  native  cold  with- 
out the  interruption  of  a  contrary  quality.  All  those 
strivings  of  the  Spirit  with  the  old  world  abated 
nothing  of  those  evil  imaginations  which  lodged  in 
the  heart  continually.  And  it  is  observed,  that 
though  the  Israelites  heard  the  thunder,  saw  the 
lightning,  the  nmunlain  burning  with  fire,  the 
blackness,  darkness,  and  tempest,  as  a  preparation 
for  giving  the  law,  which  made  them  tremble,  yet 
before  forty  days  were  over,  they  had  not  only  for- 
gotten that  law,  but  they  sin  against  that  God 
wnose  power  tliey  feared,  renounced  God  and  His 
power  over  them,  and  make  themselves  a  golden 
calf  (Exod.  xxxii.  i,  4).  The  scorching  ol  the  law 
makes  the  burned  place  more  brawny  after  the  fire 


LAW. 


(     b^7    ) 


LAW. 


is  out.  Tlie  understanding  may  be  soundly  con- 
vi'nced,  yet  the  heart  not  melted  ;  the  one  is  from 
the  undeniable  evidence  of  truth,  the  other  is  from 
the  kindly  influence  of  the  Spirit.  But  when  the 
Spirit  convinces  the  heart  in  a  spiritual  method,  it 
shines  like  the  sun  in  the  heavens,  wliicli  tliaws 
the  cold  and  frozen  earth,  and  makes  a  man  to  be 
as  melting  wax  before  God. 

— Charnock,  162S-1680. 

(3209.)  Though  the  course  of  sin  maybe  repelled 
for  a  season  by  the  dispensation  of  the  law,  yet  the 
spring  and  fountain  of  it  is  not  dried  up  thereby. 
Though  it  withdraws  and  hides  itself  for  a  season, 
it  is  but  to  shift  out  of  a  storm,  and  then  to  return 
again.  As  a  traveller  in  his  way  meeting  wiih  a 
violent  storm  of  thunder  and  rain,  immediately 
turns  out  of  his  way  to  some  house  or  tree  for  his 
sheher,  but  yet  this  causes  him  not  to  give  over  his 
journey, — so  soon  as  the  storm  is  over  he  returns  to 
his  way  and  progress  again  ;  so  it  is  with  men  in 
bondage  unto  sin.  They  are  in  a  course  of  pursuing 
their  lusts  ;  the  law  meets  with  them  in  a  storm  of 
tliunder  and  lightning  from  heaven,  terrifie-;  and 
hinders  them  in  their  way.  This  turns  them  for  a 
season  out  of  their  course  ;  they  will  run  to  prayer 
or  amendment  of  life,  for  some  shelter  from  the 
storm  of  wrath  which  is  feared  coming  upon  their 
consciences.  But  is  the  course  stopped  ?  are  their 
principles  altered?  Not  at  all;  so  soon  as  the 
storm  is  over,  so  that  they  begin  to  wear  out  that 
sense  and  the  terror  that  was  upon  them,  tliey  return 
to  their  former  course  in  the  service  of  sin  again. 
This  was  tlie  state  with  Pharaoh  once  and  again. 

In  such  seasons  sin  is  not  conquered,  but  di- 
verted. Wlien  it  seems  to  fall  under  the  power  of 
the  law,  indeed  it  is  only  turned  into  a  new 
channel  ;  it  is  not  dried  up.  If  you  go  and  set  a 
dam  against  the  streams  of  a  river,  so  that  you 
suffer  no  water  to  pass  in  the  old  course  and  channel, 
but  it  breaks  out  another  way,  and  turns  all  its 
streams  in  a  new  course,  you  will  not  say  you  have 
dried  up  that  river,  though  some  that  come  and 
look^nto  the  old  channel  may  think,  perhaps,  that 
the  waters  are  utterly  gone.  So  is  it  in  this  case. 
The  streams  of  sin,  it  may  be,  run  in  open  sensua- 
lity and  profaneness,  in  drunkenness  and  vicious- 
ness  ;  the  preaching  of  the  law  sets  a  dam  against 
these  courses, — conscience  is  terrified,  and  the  man 
dares  not  walk  in  the  ways  wherein  he  has  been 
formerly  engaged.  His  companions  in  sin,  not 
finding  him  in  his  old  ways,  begin  to  laugh  at  him, 
as  one  that  is  converted  and  grov\ing  precise  ;  pro- 
fessors themselves  begin  to  be  persuaded  that  the 
work  of  God  is  upon  his  heart,  because  they  see  his 
old  streams  fried  up  ;  but  if  there  has  been  only  a 
work  of  the  law  upon  him,  there  is  a  dam  put  to 
his  course,  but  the  spring  of  sin  is  not  dried  up, 
only  the  streams  of  it  are  turned  another  way.  It 
may  be  the  man  is  fallen  upon  other  more  secret  or 
more  spiritual  sins  ;  or  if  he  be  beat  from  them 
also,  the  whole  strength  of  lust  and  sin  will  take  up 
its  residence  in  self-righteousness,  and  pour  out 
thereby  as  fdthy  streams  as  in  any  other  way  what- 
ever. So  that,  notwithstanding  the  whole  work  of 
the  law  upon  the  souls  of  men,  indwelling  sin  will 
keep  alive  in  them  still.         — Oxuen,  i6i6-i683' 

(4.)   The  reason  of  its  inability  to  sanctify  us. 
(3210.)  To  the  law  there  belongs  a  native  power 
and  efficiency,  in  all  its  lessons  and  al'  its  enforce- 


ments, which  is  admirably  fitted  to  work  out  a 
righteousness  on  the  character  of  those  to  whom  it 
is  addressed.  For  this  purpose,  there  is  no  nant  of 
force  or  of  fitness  in  the  agent  ;  but  there  may  be  p 
w.int  of  fitness  in  the  subject  upon  which  it  operates. 
It  is  no  reflection  on  the  penmanship  of  a  beautiful 
writer,  that  he  can  give  no  adequate  specimen  of  his 
art  on  the  coarse  or  absorbent  paper  which  will 
take  on  no  fair  impression  of  the  character  that  he 
traces  upon  its  surface.  Nor  is  it  any  reflection  on 
the  power  of  an  accomplished  artist,  that  he  can 
raise  no  monument  tliereof  from  the  stone  that 
crumbles  at  every  touch,  and  so  is  incapable  of  being 
moulded  into  the  exquisite  form  of  his  own  faultless 
and  finished  idea.  And  so  of  the  law,  when  it 
attempts  to  realise  a  jjortrait  of  moral  excellence  on 
the  groundwork  of  our  nature.  It  is  because  of  the 
groundwork,  and  not  of  the  law,  that  the  attempt 
has  (ailed  ;  and  so  when  Paul  tells  us  of  what  the 
law  could  not  do,  lest  we  should  be  left  to  imagine 
that  this  was  from  any  want  of  force  or  capacity  in 
the  law,  he  adds,  "  In  that  it  was  weak  through  tha 
flesh"  (Rom.  viii.  3.) 

— Chalmers,  1780-1847. 

V.    THE  MOSAIC  LA  W. 
1.  Its  benevolence. 

(321 1.)  Men  criticise  the  law  in  the  Old  Covenant 
which  bids  put  out  "an  eye  for  an  eye"  and  "a 
tooth  for  a  tooth  ;  "  and  straightway  they  insult  and 
say,  "  Why,  how  can  He  be  good  who  speaks  so?" 

What,  then,  do  we  say  in  answer  to  this?  That 
it  is  the  highest  kind  of  philanthropy.  For  He 
made  this  law,  not  that  we  might  strike  out  one 
another's  eyes,  but  that  fear  of  suffering  by  others 
might  restrain  us  from  doing  any  such  thing  to 
them.  As,  therefore,  He  threatened  the  Ninevites 
with  overthrow,  not  that  He  might  destroy  them 
(for  had  that  been  His  will  He  ought  to  have  been 
silent),  but  that  He  might  by  lear  make  them 
better,  and  so  quiet  His  wrath;  so  also  has  He 
appointed  a  punishment  for  those  who  wantonly 
assail  the  eyes  of  others,  that  if  good  principle  dis- 
pose tiiem  not  10  refrain  from  such  cruelty,  fear 
may  restrain  them  from  injuring  tlieir  neighbour's 
sight. 

And  if  this  be  cruelty,  it  is  cruelty  also  for  the 
murderer  to  be  restrained,  and  the  adulterer  checked. 
But  these  are  the  sayings  of  senseless  men,  and  of 
those  that  are  mad  to  the  extreme  of  madness.  For 
I,  so  far  from  saying  that  this  comes  of  cruelty, 
should  say,  that  the  contrary  to  this  would  be  un- 
lawful, according  to  men's  reckoning.  And  whereas 
thou  sayest,  "  Because  He  commanded  to  pluck  out 
'an  eye  for  an  eye,'  therefore  He  is  cruel  ;  "  I  say, 
that  if  He  had  not  given  this  commandment,  then 
He  would  have  seemed,  in  the  judgment  of  most 
men,  to  be  that  thou  sayest  lie  is. 

For  let  us  suppose  that  this  law  had  been  alto- 
gether done  away,  and  that  no  one  feared  the 
punishment  ensuing  thereupon,  but  that  license  had 
been  given  to  all  the  wicked  to  follow  their  own 
disposition  in  all  security,  to  adulterers,  and  to 
murderers,  to  perjured  persons,  and  to  parricides  ; 
would  not  all  things  have  been  turned  upside  down  ? 
Would  not  cities,  market-places,  and  houses,  sea 
and  land,  and  the  whole  world,  have  been  filled 
with  unnumbered  pollutions  and  murders  ?  Every 
one  sees  it.  For  if,  when  there  are  laws,  and  fear, 
and  threatening,  our  evil  dispositions   are   hardly 


LAW. 


(    538    ) 


LAW. 


checlced  ;  were  even  this  security  taken  away,  what 
is  there  to  prevent  men's  clioosing  vice  ?  and  what 
degree  uf  mischief  would  not  then  come  revelling 
upon  the  whole  of  human  life  ? 

The  ratlier,  since  cruelty  lies  not  only  in  allowing 
the  bad  to  do  what  tiiey  will,  but  in  another  thing 
quite  as  niucli  ;  to  overlook,  and  leave  uncared  for, 
him  who  has  done  no  wrong,  but  who  is  without 
cause  or  reason  suffering  it.  For  tell  me,  were  any 
one  to  gather  together  wicked  men  from  all  quarters, 
and  arm  them  with  swords,  and  bid  them  go  about 
the  whule  city,  and  massacre  all  that  came  in  their 
way,  could  there  be  anything  more  like  a  wild 
beast  than  he?  And  what  if  some  other  should 
bind  and  confine  with  the  utmost  strictness  those 
whom  thnt  man  had  armed,  and  should  snatch  from 
those  lawless  hands  them  who  were  on  the  point 
of  being  butchered,  could  anything  be  greater 
humanity  than  this  ? 

JMow  then,  1  bid  thee  transfer  these  examples  to 
the  law  likewise  ;  fir  lie  that  commands  lo  jiluck 
out  "an  eye  for  an  eye,"  has  laid  the  fear  as  a  kind 
of  strong  chain  on  llic  souls  of  the  bad,  and  so  re- 
sembles him  vvho  detnins  these  assassin'^  in  prison  ; 
whereas  he  who  appoints  no  punishment  for  them, 
all  but  arms  them  by  such  security,  and  acts  the 
part  of  that  otlier,  who  was  putting  the  swords  in 
their  hands,  and  letting  them  loose  over  the  whole 
city. 

Seest  thou  not,  how  the  commandments,  so  far 
from  coming  of  cruelty,  come  rather  of  abounding 
mercy?  — Chrysostor)i,  347-407. 

(3212.)  Now,  what  does  the  law  say  about  re- 
venge? Docs  it  allow  it?  Does  it  approve  it? 
Does  it  exhort  men  to  exact  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth  ?     Not  at  all  ;  just  the  contrary. 

The  law  does  indeed  speak  about  exacting  an  eye 
for  an  eye,  a  t(joth  lor  a  tooth,  but  this  was  to  be 
done  by  tiie  ma^istiate,  and  as  the  extreme pmallv  of 
the liuti.  'J'his  very  enactment  was  directed  against 
private  and  indisciiminate  vengeance.  It  no  longer 
left  men  to  be  judges  in  their  own  causes  and  llxed 
the  extreme  limit  of  the  pimishment.  The  English 
statute-liook  says  that  burglary  is  punishable  with 
trans|)or!ation,  but  this  does  not  mean  that  every 
convicted  buiglar  must  be  transported.  It  means 
that  he  vnxy  be  transported,  and  that  he  must  not 
be  han^i^ed.  So  in  the  Mosaic  statute-book,  "a 
tooth  lor  a  tooth,  an  eye  for  an  eye,"  means  that 
the  judge  might  exact  that  penalty,  but  nothing 
more.  — A'.  A.  Bertram. 

(3213.)  The  law  of  Moses,  with  its  strict  com- 
mands and  stern  punishments,  was  not  an  organised 
tyraiiny  over  the  consciences  of  men  :  it  was  tiie 
means  of  bringing  them  liack  to  a  sane  state,  to  a 
coniiilete  consciousness.  It  set  up  and  kept  before 
them  the  claims  of  God  and  of  conscience.  When 
once  they  had  confessed  that  sin  was  in  them,  and 
that  the  wages  of  sin  is  death,  then  the  work  for 
which  the  law  was  appointed  was  done.  It  was  a 
great  system,  having  for  its  one  object  to  bring  men 
to  confess.  But  that  act  of  confession  restored  men 
to  themselves,  gave  them  back  their  own  nature  ; 
reminded  them  of  three  words  which  they  were  too 
pleased  to  forget, — of  God,  ofduty,  of  hereafter.  The 
physician  that  sees  u]ion  a  patient  the  symptoms 
of  a  perilous  disease,  of  which  the  patient  knows 
nothing,  that  sees  him  eating  the  most  baneful  food, 
and  courting  the  airs  that  are  to  such  an  ailment 


most  destructive,  does  well  to  .ay  his  hand  upon- 
his  arm,  and  tell  him,  though  the  sufferer's  cheek 
grow  while  before  him,  that  the  poison  is  there, 
undermining  his  life.  He  is  not  a  nialignatit  enemy 
for  whispermg,  "The  path  you  are  walking  on 
leads  to  sure  death."  If  the  titlings,  harsh  as  they 
are,  give  the  man  a  sense  of  his  real  position,  if 
they  save  him  from  acting  like  a  madiuan,  and  set 
him  thinking  upon  the  means  of  recovery,  they  are 
the  words  of  a  friend.  And  such  a  friend  to  man 
«as  the  law  of  Moses.       — Archbishop  Thomson. 

2.  Its  euitableness  for  Its  season, 

(3214.)  God  was  pleased  for  a  long  time  to  dis- 
pense the  Covenant  of  His  grace  to  the  Church  of 
the  Jews  by  many  ceremonies,  types,  and  figures, 
because  this  kind  of  teaching  was  the  more  fit  for 
that  infantine,  puerile  state  of  the  Church.  They 
were  to  be  instructed  by  the  sight  of  their  eyes  as 
well  as  by  the  hearing  of  their  ears.  It  has  been 
Gotl's  method  to  carry  on  His  Church  gradually 
from  a  lesser  degree  of  light  to  a  greater  degree 
(ilel).  i.  i).  Children  are  taught  fiist  the  letters, 
then  to  spell,  and  afterwards  to  read.  God  would 
have  His  Church  to  begin  with  the  spelling-bcok 
ol  types  and  ceremonies,  and  so  to  be  brought  on 
to  a  higher  form,  and  to  a  more  spiritual  way  of 
teaching.  When  little  children  are  taught  to  go, 
their  mothers  or  nurses  first  lead  them  by  the  arms, 
get  standing  stools  for  them,  that  so  they  may  after- 
wards go  of  themselves.  God  was  pleased  to  use 
this  method  to  the  Church  of  the  Jews;  lie  pro- 
vided the  standing  stool  for  them  as  being  nicst 
suitable  to  their  puny  state.  The  apostle  gives  this 
reason  for  this  way  of  teaching  the  Church  ((ial.  iv. 
1-3)  :  the  Church  was  not  then  come  to  its  fidl 
age,  it  was  in  its  long  coats,  and  therefore  it  was 
kept  in  bondage  under  those  worldly  rudiments,  as 
the  young  heir  is  under  tutors  and  governors,  until 
he  come  to  a  perfect  man.  — Robinton,  1599. 

3.  A  preparation  for  Christianity. 

(3215.)  You  may  perhaps,  by  examining,  be  able 
to  find  a  stalk  of  wheat  that  has  but. a  single  k*rnel. 
Now  the  stalely  growth  of  straw,  the  beautiful  form 
of  the  head,  the  closely-packed  array  of  husk,  are 
all  for  the  sake  of  the  kernel  within.  The  head  of 
the  wheat  shoots  out  into  beauty,  and  almost  in  a 
day  attains  a  perfect  form.  But  closely  enveloped 
in  the  very  centre  of  the  ear,  if  you  dissect  ii,  you 
will  find  the  smallest  bulb,  a  mere  point,  discover- 
able only  by  careful  search,  and  yet  that  bulb  is  tiie 
only  important  thing  in  the  whole  ;  that  is  the  child 
of  promise  ;  all  else  to  be  thrown  away  ;  by  that  the 
life  of  the  world  is  to  be  sustained.  Nevertheless, 
the  husk  is  for  weeks  of  the  utmost  importance  ;  it 
is  to  protect  the  kernel,  wrap  it  up  as  a  mother 
does  a  child,  from  evening  damps,  fiom  noon-day 
heats,  from  drenching  rain,  from  withering  fr'>sts. 
Here,  then,  are  two  counter  processes.  The  husk 
springs  at  once  tf  full  life,  but  soon  enters  on  its 
period  of  decay  ;  the  parts  are  early  detached  from 
each  other  ;  it  loses  its  beauty  of  form,  loses  utility, 
and  in  harvest  is  rudely  torn  off  and  scattered  as 
worthless  chaff.  The  kernel  begins  in  feeMeness, 
on  the  summit  of  which  it  is  lodged,  but  it  increases 
while  the  husk  decreases  ;  it  grows  to  a  fulness  and 
rotundity  that  crowds  off  its  swaddling  clothes,  and 
in  its  maturity  it  is  garnered  with  the  most  scrupu- 
lous care,  while  its  pretentious  and  gay  envelop- 
ment is  left  to  be  trodden  under  foot,  having  accona* 


LAH^. 


(    539    ) 


LA  IV. 


plished  its  mission  in  bringing  to  perfection  the 
modest  and  concealed  uiain  iliat  nestled  within  its 
folds. 

This  counter  process,  one  part  increasing  as  the 
other  decays,  one  perfect  when  tlie  other  is  at  its 
point  of  greatest  imperfection,  is  a  process  found  in 
all  tlie  works  of  nature,  and  in  all  the  providential 
arranLjements  oi  the  universe.  It  seems  to  be  the 
universal  method  of  the  divine  working.  In  no 
part  of  revelation,  however,  is  this  method  more 
ob»-'ous  than  in  the  two  laws  whicli  God  has 
ordainetl,  known  as  the  ceremonial  law  and  the 
moral  law.  These  two  laws  are  one.  The  former 
was  for  the  sake  of  the  latter.  It  was  the  husk  in 
■whicli  the  rule  of  morals  and  the  law  of  love  came 
to  perfection. 

At  Mount  Sinai  God  ordained  certain  imposing 
ceremonies,  alter  a  pattern  shown  to  Moses  in  the 
mount.  The  symbols  of  a  mysterious  religion  were 
arrayed  in  stately  forms,  to  arrest  the  eye  and  cap- 
tivate the  imagination.  There  was  the  tabernacle, 
wrapped  in  gorgeous  curtains,  and  scarlet,  and 
purple,  and  fine-twined  linen,  wrought  with  cheru- 
bim and  cunning  work  ;  there  were  curtains  of 
goat's  hair;  and  badger's  skins  dyed  red  like  flow- 
ing robes  adown  its  sides  and  along  the  ground  ; 
there  was  an  entrance  vail  to  conceal  the  sanctuary 
frcmi  all  vulgar  gaze  ;  there  was  a  partition  vail  to 
secure  the  most  holy  place  from  even  priestly  eyes  ; 
there  was  a  golden  candlestick,  with,  its  seven 
unquenchable  fires ;  there  was  a  table  of  shew- 
biead;  there  was  an  ark,  and  a  mercy-seat  with 
cherubim  upon  it,  and  the  visible  Shechinah,  the 
fiery  presence  of  God  ;  there  w;is  the  court  of  the 
tabernacle,  an  enclosure  for  the  Israelites  within 
fine-wrought  curtains,  hangitig  upon  bars  and  posts 
of  precious  wood  joined  by  sockets  of  silver  ;  there 
was  an  altar  of  sacrifice,  on  which  victims  to  the 
Divine  Ruler  sent  up  the  propitiation  of  life  offered 
for  sin  ;  there  were  instituted  imposing  forms  of 
priestly  pomp,  and  long-stoled  officials  with  tera- 
phim,  phylactery,  and  ephod  moved  grandly  through 
their  appointed  functions,  fulfilling  a  mission 
appointed  them  of  heaven.  We  can  but  look  on 
all  this  array  with  admiration — silver  and  gold, 
purple  and  scarlet,  the  burning  oil  and  the  lives  of 
oxen,  sheep,  and  goats,  and  the  orders  of  conse- 
crated priests  were  not  too  gorgeous  or  too  costly 
an  envelope  in  which  to  convey  to  after  ages  God's 
message  of  love  tt>  men. 

Ikit  within  the  most  holy  place,  concealed  in  an 
ark,  externally  of  great  beauty  and  expense,  over- 
laid with  gold,  were  two  tables  of  stone,  writtpn 
over  with  a  few  brief  sentences  by  the  finger  of 
God.  Thus  closely  enveloiied  from  view  was  the 
kernel  which  was  to  grow  to  maturity,  and  become 
the  food  of  the  world.  It  seemed  the  barest  point 
now,  hardly  a  speck  within  its  gorgeous  husk.  The 
world  would  have  looked  on  the  revelation  of  God, 
and  not  have  noticed  this  as  a  part  of  it.  The 
Jews  were  delighted  with  their  ritual,  and  did  not 
know  which  part  wns  to  decay,  which  is  to  come 
to  maturity,  and  be  the  fruit,  the  bread  of  (jod,  that 
came  down  from  heaven.  They  were  right  in 
looking  on  all  this  ^s  one  revelation,  but  they  found 
the  value  in  the  husk,  while  it  was  the  ten  com- 
mandment: hidden  in  the  ark  that  were  the  sub- 
stance and  the  soul  of  the  divine  teaching. 

Through  all  the  discipline  of  the  Jews  the  law 
ruling  over  the  heart,  the  law  of  morals,  was  con- 
tinually making  its  worth  felt.  .  The  prophets  and 


the  Psalmist  soon  learned  to  believe  it  of  more 
importance  than  ritual  service  ;  to  do  justice  and 
love  mercy  they  learned  to  estimate  as  of  more 
value  than  thousands  of  sncrifices,  and  ten  thousands 
of  rivers  of  oil  ;  the  husk  was  slowly,  gradually 
disengaged  from  its  content  ;  the  age  of  its  decay 
bet;an  ;  the  effects  of  age  were  visible  ;  Judaism  was 
falling  in  contempt,  when  suddenly  there  emerged 
from  the  golden  ark,  the  law  in  its  full  maturity — 
Jesus  Christ — the  law  drawn  out  in  livmg  characters. 
He  hurst  the  shell  of  lormalism.  He  scattered  the 
swathing  bands  of  religion  as  chaff  in  the  wind.  He 
stood  forth  Himself,  as  the  only  real  revelation,  the 
fruit  that  had  been  so  long  coming  to  maturity,  the 
bread  of  God  that  descended  from  heaven.  The 
ten  commandments  were  the  point  toward  which 
all  God's  revelation  centered  ;  they  were  the  salient 
point  from  wliich  God's  power  in  the  earth  went 
lorth,  and  round  which  His  revelation  ensphered 
itself,  forming  a  body,  yet  a  spiritual  body — Jesus 
Christ  the  Righteous.  Henceforth  Jesus  Christ  is 
our  revelation  and  our  religion  ;  all  we  can  know 
of  God  centres  in  Him  ;  from  Him  you  may  go,  by 
a  direct  line  of  connection,  to  all  that  is  divine  in 
the  world  :  "Thou  hast  created  all  things,  and  for 
Thy  pleasure  they  are  and  were  created  " 

— G.  N.  Boardman. 

4.  Compared  with  Christianity. 

(3216.)  The  new  law  is  better  than  the  old.  You 
may  compare  these  two  laws  or  covenants  in  this 
way.  Think  of  a  city  which  has  been  the  scene  of 
great  outbreaks  and  tumults,  so  that  soliiers  are 
sent  there,  and  martial  law  proclaimed,  and  the 
very  first  token  of  disaffection  is  most  severely 
punished.  Men  are  not  allowed  to  wear  certain 
colours  in  their  dress,  nor  to  play  the  tunes  of  cer- 
tain songs,  nor  to  be  abroad  late  at  night,  because 
sus]iicion  attaches  to  all  these  things.  Such  a  con- 
dition is  a  hard  one,  and  yet  a  useful  and  beneficent 
one.  It  is  hard,  because  it  is  full  of  suspicion  and 
repression,  and  because  its  rules  are  vexatious  and 
its  punishments  prompt  and  inexorable.  But  it  is 
uselul  too,  because  the  worst  evil  in  a  city  is  dis- 
order, and  that  is  checked,  and  the  well-disposed 
can  pursue  their  callini:s,  and  rapine  and  murder 
dare  not  show  their  face.  Now  that  is  like  the 
Mosaic  law.  It  is  a  sore  burden  in  one  )>oint  of 
view,  because  its  rules  are  mnny  and  troublesome, 
so  that  no  man  can  keep  them  all  :  and  they  are 
checks  to  our  free  action,  and  we  would  rather  be 
free  from  them  altogether.  But  the  law  was  also 
holy  and  good  ;  yes,  precious  beyond  all  precious 
things  that  God  had  yet  given  His  creatures;  be- 
cause it  showed  that  over  our  tumultuous  race  there 
was  still  a  living  Jehovah,  and  that  He  hated 
disorder,  which  is  sin,  and  would  not  suffer  it  to 
endure.  It  did  not  make  the  Jews  holy,  or  well- 
affected  towards  their  great  King.  But  it  did 
wonders  for  them  in  that  respect,  when  you  set 
them  beside  other  nations.  Others  hewed  idols 
out  of  every  tree  and  every  quarry,  and  studied 
sensual  wickedness  with  an  abstruse  and  hideous 
ingenuity.  Amongst  the  Jews  was  ever  present  a 
true,  and  a  prevailing  witness  for  the  one  God,  and 
against  the  sins  which  He  abhorred,  and  they  were 
saved  thereby  from  idolatry  and  from  infinite  excess. 
But  now  imagine  that  in  that  city,  with  its  silent 
streets  and  watchful  sentries,  there  is  a  happy  home, 
where  a  kind  and  wise  father  governs  his  children 
by  the  mere  force  of  love.     None  of  them  wishes  to 


LIFE,    HUMAN 


(    540    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


conceal  a  thought  from  their  father  ;  they  have  no 
fear  of  him  ;  iliey  ask  his  advice  in  all  things  ; 
they  love  the  room  where  lie  sits  ;  they  are  ashamed 
when  they  have  done  anything  that  brings  a  look 
of  pain  into  his  face.  In  that  house,  thou.L;h  there 
reii;ns  far  more  peace  than  in  the  city  without,  no 
one  thinks  that  there  is  any  law.  Love  is  the  life 
of  that  happy  dwelling  ;  love  is  its  light;  love  has 
driven  out  of  it  corruption  of  morals  and  slavish 
fear.  It  wants  no  other  law.  That  house,  my 
friends,  is  an  image  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  The 
law  did  much  in  preventing  crime  and  idolatry, 
but  to  earnest  souls  there  was  an  incurable  void  in 
it.  The  more  they  looked  into  and  saw  God's  per- 
fection, the  more  did  they  feel  their  own  misery  and 
deformity.  It  v. as  like  a  poor,  ragged  leper,  with 
his  scales  and  blotches,  standing  in  the  doorway  of 
a  banqueting  hall,  and  seeing  all  the  fair  and 
splendid  apparel,  all  the  noble  and  beautiful  guests, 
and  shrinking  back  miserable  into  the  outside  dark- 
ness, knowing  that  if  he  entered  all  would  fall  back 
in  terror  and  disgust  from  him.  The  earnest  man 
would  say,  "  The  law  bids  me  to  all  that  is  good — 
would  raise  me  to  great  heights  of  goodness,  if  I 
could  love  it  and  observe  it.  Unhappily,  I  cannot 
love  it,  and  so  fail  to  observe  it."  "Oh,  wretched 
man  that  I  am  !  "  (the-e  are  St.  Paul's  words  on  the 
subject)  "who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of 
this  death?"  St.  Paid  knew  the  answer,  he  only 
asks  the  question  on  purpose  to  answer  it.  The 
Lord  had  told  him.  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
labour  and  are  heavy  laden."  Come  unto  me,  that 
is,  you  in  whom  conscience  has  began  to  work  and 
struggle,  and  to  try  to  deliver  herself  from  the  load 
of  sin  that  sits  on  her  bowed  neck.  "  I  will  give 
you  rest."  I  give  you  comfort  in  feeling  that  even 
sin  is  not  too  great  for  me  to  deal  with.  They 
should  know  Ilim  as  the  divine  Son,  and  yet  their 
friend.  They  should  feel  that  He  had  taken  them 
by  the  hand  and  admitted  them  to  all  the  love  and 
the  peace  of  the  family  of  God.  Jews  brought  near 
their  divine  Law-giver  shook  with  terror.  "  If  we 
hear  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God  any  more,  we  shall 
die."  Christians,  full  of  affection  for  their  Lord, 
cling  to  I'im  in  their  trouble,  and  say,  "  Lord,  to 
whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal 
life."  — Archbishop  7'hoTnsan. 


LIFE.     HUMAN. 

1.  Its  emblems. 

(i.)  A  voyage. 

(3217.)  We  are  like  vessels  tossed  on  the  oosom 

of  the  deep  ;  our  passions  are  the  winds  that  sweep 
us  impetuously  forward  ;  each  pleasure  is  a  rock, 
the  whole  of  life  is  a  wide  ocean.  Reason  is  the 
pilot  to  guide  us  ;  but  often  it  allows  itself  to  be 
led  astray  by  the  storms  of  pride. 

— Metastasio. 

(2.)  A  pilgrimage. 

(3218.)  If  men  have  been  termed  pilgrims,  and 
life  a  journey,  then  we  may  add  that  the  Christian 
pilgrimage  far  surpasses  all  others  in  the  following 
important  particulars  : — in  the  goodness  of  the  road 
— in  the  beauty  of  the  prospects — in  the  excellence 
of  the  company— and  in  the  vast  superiority  of  the 
accommodation  provided  for  the  Christian  traveller 
when  he  has  finished  his  course.  — Salter. 

(3219.)  Here  thou  an  but  a  stranger  travelling 


to  thy  country  ;  it  is  therefore  a  huge  folly  to  be 
afilicled  because  thou  hast  a  less  convenient  inn  to 
lodge  in  by  the  way. 

— yeremy  Taylor^  16 12-1667. 

{3).   A  drama, 

(3220.)  In  a  hundred  years  the  world  will  still 
subsist  in  its  entirety  ;  there  will  be  the  same 
theatre,  and  the  same  decorations  ;  there  will  no 
longer  be  the  same  actors.  Ail  who  have  been 
gladdened  by  some  favour,  or  saddened  and  thrown 
into  despair  by  a  refusal,  will  have  vanished  from 
the  scene.  At  this  moment  there  are  entering  upon 
the  theatre  of  life  other  men,  who  are  going  to  play 
in  a  similar  piece  the  same  characters,  they  will 
vanish  in  their  turn,  and  those  who  are  not  yet  in 
existence  will  also  be  no  more  ;  new  actors  have 
taken  their  place.  What  a  mere  munmier  in  j 
comedy  is  man  1  — La  Brityire. 

(4.)  A  rainbtnu, 

(3221.)  Life  is  like  the  rainbow;  it  \t  a  thing  of 
sunshine,  and  it  is  a  thing  of  showers. 

2.  Its  limitations. 

( j222.)  "  Nothing  new  under  the  sun."  I  com- 
pare life  to  a  little  wilderness,  surrounded  by  a 
high  dead  wall.  Within  this  space  we  muse  and 
walk  in  quest  of  the  new  antl  happy,  forgetting  the 
insuperalile  limit,  till,  with  surprise,  we  find  our- 
selves stopped  by  the  dead  -wall:  we  I  urn  away, 
and  muse  and  walk  again,  till,  on  another  side,  we 
find  ourselves  close  against  the  dead  wall.  Which- 
ever way  we  turn — still  the  same. 

— John  Foster,  1 770-1 843. 

3.  Is  divinely  ordered. 

(3223.)  Our  life  is  a  web  woven  by  the  hand  of 
God,  the  thread  reaching  from  our  birth  unto  our 
death.  The  woof  is  trouble,  but  still  runs  with  it  a 
weft  of  interwoven  comforts. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(3224.)  If  the  architect  of  a  house  had  one  plan, 
and  the  contractor  had  another,  what  conflicts 
would  there  be  1  IIuw  many  walls  would  have  to 
come  down,  how  many  doors  ami  windows  would 
need  to  be  altered,  before  the  two  could  harmonise  1 
Of  the  building  of  life,  God  is  the  architect,  and 
man  is  the  contractor.  God  has  one  plan,  and  man 
has  another.  Is  it  strange  that  there  are  clashings 
and  collisions?  — Beecher. 

(3225.)  At  an  artist's  reception  one  day  I  saw  a 

picture  of  a  mountain  sunrise,  and  I  wondered  at 
its  marvellous  depths,  richness,  and  splendour  of 
shade  and  colour,  till  the  artist  told  me  how  he  had 
toneil  down  the  picture  and  softened  its  colouring 
into  its  subdued  harmony  of  tint  ;  and  I  thought 
how  often  our  life  was  growing  to  be  like  that 
picture  of  a  mountain  sunrise.  God's  unseen  hand 
is  before  the  easel,  sketching  here  and  shading 
there.  The  life-picture  looks  to  us  unfinished, 
fragmentary,  and  imperfect  now,  but  each  new  joy- 
light,  each  sorrow-siiatle  is  toning  it  down  through 
all  its  gloom  and  glory  into  harmony  with  God's 
great  ideal.  He  will  frame  it  at  last  in  such  a  set- 
ting of  events  as  He  chooses,  and  we  shall  find  in 
that  great  gallery  above,  that  the  light  has  been  in 
the  right  place,  and  the  shadow  too. 

(3226.)  What  do  the  Scriptures  show,  but  that 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(    S4.I     ) 


LIFE.    HUMAN 


God  has  a  particular  care  for  every  man,  a  personal 
interest  in  him,  and  a  sympathy  with  him  and  his 
trials,  watching  for  the  uses  of  his  one  talent  as 
attentively  and  kindly,  and  approving  liim  as 
heartily,  in  the  right  employment  of  it,  as  if  He  had 
given  him  ten  ;  and,  what  is  the  giving  out  of  the 
talents  itself,  but  an  exhibition  of  the  fact  that  God 
has  a  definite  purpose,  charge,  and  worlc,  be  it  this 
or  that,  for  every  man. 

They  also  make  it  the  privilege  of  every  man  to 
live  in  the  secret  guidance  of  God  ;  which  is  plainly 
nugatory,  unless  there  is  some  chosen  work,  or 
sphere,  into  which  he  may  be  guide-1,  for  how  shall 
God  guide  him,  having  nothing  appointed  or  marked 
out  for  him  to  be  guided  into  ?  no  held  opened  for 
him,  no  course  set  down  which  is  to  be  his  wisdom  ? 
God  also  professes  in  His  word  to  have  purposes 
pre-arranged  for  all  events ;  to  govern  by  a  plan 
which  is  from  eternity  even,  and  which,  in  some 
proper  sense,  comprehends  everything.  And  what 
is  this  but  another  way  of  conceiving  that  God  has 
a  definite  place  and  plan  adjusted  for  every  human 
being  ?  And,  without  such  a  plan,  He  could  not 
even  govern  the  world  intelligently,  or  make  a 
proper  universe  of  the  created  system  ;  for  it  be- 
comes a  universe  only  in  the  grand  unity  of  reason, 
which  includes  it.  Otherwise,  it  were  only  a  jumble 
of  fortuities  without  counsel,  end,  or  law. 

Turning  now  from  the  Scriptures  to  the  works 
of  God,  how  constantly  are  we  met  here  by  the 
fact,  everywhere  visible,  that  ends  and  uses  are  the 
regulative  reasons  of  all  existing  things.  This  we 
discover  often,  when  we  are  least  able  to  under- 
stand the  speculative  mystery  of  objects  ;  for  it  is 
precisely  the  uses  of  things  that  are  most  palpable. 
These  aie  uses  to  God,  no  doubt,  as  to  us,  the  sig- 
nificance of  His  works.  And  they  compose,  taken 
together,  a  grand  reciprocal  system,  in  which  part 
answers  actively  to  part,  constructing  thus  an  all- 
comprehensive  and  glorious  whole.  And  the  system 
is,  in  fact,  so  perfect,  that  the  loss  or  displacement 
of  any  member  would  fatally  derange  the  general 
order.  If  there  were  any  smallest  star  in  heaven 
that  had  no  place  to  fill,  that  oversight  would  beget 
a  disturbance  which  no  Leverrier  could  compute  ; 
because  it  would  be  a  real  and  eternal,  and  not 
merely  casual  or  apparent  disorder.  One  grain 
more  or  less  of  sand  would  disturb  or  even  fatally 
disorder  the  whole  scheme  of  the  heavenly  motions. 
So  nicely  balanced,  and  so  carefully  hung  are  the 
worlds,  that  even  the  grains  of  their  dust  are 
counted,  and  their  places  adjusted  to  a  correspon- 
dent nicety.  There  is  nothing  included  in  the  gross 
or  total  sum,  that  could  be  dispensed  with.  The 
same  is  true  in  regard  to  forces  that  are  apparently 
irregular.  Every  particle  of  air  is  moved  by  laws 
of  as  great  precision  as  the  laws  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  or,  indeed,  by  the  same  laws  ;  keeping  its 
appointed  place,  and  serving  its  appointed  use. 
Every  odour  exhales  in  the  nicest  coniormity  with 
its  appointed  place  and  law.  Even  the  viewless 
and  mysterious  heat,  stealing  through  the  dark 
cenues  and  impenetrable  depths  of  the  worlds, 
obeys  its  uses  with  unfaltering  exactness,  dissolving,' 
never  so  much  as  an  atom  that  was  not  to  be  dis- 
solved. What,  now,  shall  we  say  of  man,  appear- 
ing, as  it  were,  in  the  centre  of  this  great  circle  of 
uses.  They  are  all  adjusted  for  him;  has  he,  then, 
no  ends  appointed  for  himself?  Noblest  of  all 
creatures,  and  closest  to  God,  as  he  ceriainly  is,  are 
we  to  say  that  his  Creator  has  no  definite  thoughts 


concerning  him,  no  place  prepared  for  him  to  fill, 
no  use  for  him  to  serve  which  is  the  reason  of  hia 
existence. 

There  is,  then,  I  conclude,  a  definite  and  proper 
end  or  issue,  for  every  man's  existence  ;  an  end, 
which,  to  the  heart  of  God,  is  the  good  intended  for 
him,  01-  for  which  he  was  intended  ;  that  which  he 
is  privileged  to  become,  called  to  become,  ought  to 
become  ;  that  which  God  will  assist  him  to  become, 
and  which  he  cannot  miss,  save  by  his  own  fault. 

—Bushndl. 

4.  Importance  of  starting  -well. 

(3227.)  It  is  of  vast  moment  to  be  "just  right' 
when  starting.  At  Preston,  at  Malines,  at  many 
such  places  the  lines  go  gently  asimder,  so  fine  is 
the  angle  that  at  first  the  paths  are  almost  parallel, 
and  it  seems  of  small  moment  which  you  select. 
But  a  little  further  on  one  of  them  turns  a  corner 
or  dives  into  a  tunnel,  and  now  that  the  speed  is 
full,  the  angle  opens  up,  and,  at  the  rate  of  a  mile 
a  minute,  the  divided  convoy  flies  asunder  ;  one 
passenger  is  on  the  way  to  Italy,  another  to  the 
swamps  of  Holland  ;  one  will  step  out  in  London,* 
the  other  in  the  Irish  Channel.  It  is  not  enough 
that  you  book  for  the  better  country  ;  you  must 
keep  the  way,  and  a  small  deviation  may  send  yon 
entirely  wrong.  A  slight  deflection  from  honesty, 
a  sliglit  divergence  from  perfect  truthfulness,  from 
]ierfcct  sobrieiy,  may  throw  you  on  a  wrong  tack 
altogether,  and  make  a  failure  of  that  life  which 
should  have  proved  a  comfort  to  your  family,  a 
credit  to  your  country,  a  blessing  to  mankind. 

— Hamilton,  1S14-1S67. 

5.  Should  not  tie  dissipated  in  tlie  purstilt  of 
trifles. 

(322S.')  They  who  are  most  weary  of  life,  and 
yet  are  most  unwilling  to  die,  are  such  who  have 
lived  to  no  purpose, — who  have  rather  breathed 
than  lived.  — Earl  of  Clarendon,  1608-1673. 

(3229.)  There  are  some  pursuits  which  do  not 
deserve  to  be  called  a  business.  yEropus  was  the 
king  of  Macedonia,  and  it  was  his  favourite  pursuit 
to  make  lanterns.  Probably,  he  was  very  good  at 
making  them  ;  but  his  proper  business  was  to  be  a 
king,  and  therefore  the  more  lanterns  he  made,  the 
worse  king  he  was.  And  if  your  work  be  a  high 
calling,  you  must  not  dissipate  your  energies  on 
tnfics,  en  things  which,  lawful  in  themselves,  are 
still  as  irrelevant  to  you  as  lamp-making  is  irrelevant 
to  a  king.  — Hamilton,  1S14-1S67, 

(3230.)  You  may  be  very  earnest  in  a  pursuit 
which  is  utterly  beneath  your  prerogative  as  an 
intelligent  creature,  and  your  high  destination  as  an 
immortal  being.  Pursuits  which  are  perfectly  pro- 
per in  creatures  destitute  of  reason  may  be  very 
culpable  in  those  who  not  only  have  reason  but  are 
capable  of  enjoyments  above  the  range  of  reason 
itself. 

We  this  instant  imagined  a  man  retaining  all  his 
consciousness  transformed  into  a  zoophyte,  let  us 
imagine  another  similar  transformation:  fancy  that, 
instead  of  a  polypus,  you  were  changed  into  a 
swallow.  There  you  have  a  creature  abundantly 
busy,  up  in  the  early  morning,  forever  on  the  \\ing, 
as  graceful  and  sprightly  in  his  flight  as  he  is  taste- 
ful in  the  haunts  which  he  selects.  Look  at  him 
zigzagging  over  the  clover -field,  skimming  the 
limpid  lake,  whisking  round  the  steeple,  or  dancing 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


^     542    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


gaily  in  the  sky.  Behold  him  in  high  spirits, 
shrieking  out  his  ecstasy  as  he  has  bolted  a  dragon- 
fly, or  darted  through  the  arrow-slits  of  the  old 
turret,  or  performed  some  other  feat  of  hirundine 
agility  ;  and  notice  how  he  pays  his  morning  visits, 
alighting  elegantly  on  some  house-top,  and  twitter- 
ing politely  by  turns  to  the  swallow  on  either  side 
of  him,  and  after  five  mirRites'  conversation,  off  and 
away  to  call  for  his  friend  at  the  castle.  And  now 
he  has  gone  upon  his  travels,  gone  to  spend  the 
winter  at  Rome  or  Naples,  to  visit  Egypt  or  the 
Holy  Land,  or  perform  some  more  recherche  pil- 
grimage to  Spain  or  the  coast  of  Barbaiy.  And 
when  he  comes  home  next  April,  sure  enough  he 
has  been  abroad  ; — charming  climate — highly  de- 
lighted with  the  cicadas  in  Italy,  and  the  bees  on 
Hymettus ; — locusts  in  Africa  rather  scarce  this 
season,  but  upon  the  whole  much  pleased  with 
his  trip,  and  returned  in  high  health  and  spirits. 

Now,  dear  friends,  this  is  a  very  proper  life  for  a 
bird  of  the  air,  but  is  it  a  life  for  you  ?  To  flit 
about  from  house  to  house  ;  to  pay  futile  visits, 
where,  if  the  talk  were  written  down,  it  would 
j^mount  to  little  more  than  the  chattering  of  a 
swallow  ;  to  bestow  all  your  thoughts  on  graceful 
attitudes  and  nimble  movements  and  polished  attire  ; 
to  roam  from  land  to  land  with  so  little  informa- 
tion in  your  head,  or  so  little  taste  for  the  sublime 
or  beautiful  in  your  soul,  that,  could  a  swallow 
publish  his  travels,  and  did  you  publish  yours, 
we  should  probably  find  the  one  a  counterpart  of 
the  other  ;  the  winged  traveller  enlarging  on  the 
discomforts  of  his  nest,  and  the  wingless  one  on  the 
miseries  of  his  hotel  or  his  chateau  ;  you  describing 
the  places  of  amusement,  or  enlarging  on  the  vast- 
ness  of  the  country  and  the  abundance  of  the  game, 
and  your  rival  eloquent  on  the  self-same  things. 
Oh  !  it  is  a  thought,  not  ridiculous,  but  appalling. 
If  the  earthly  history  of  some  of  our  brethren  were 
written  down  ;  if  a  faithful  record  were  kept  of  the 
way  they  spend  their  time  ;  if  all  the  hours  of  idle 
vacancy  or  idler  occupancy  were  put  together,  and 
the  very  small  amount  of  useful  diligence  deducted, 
the  life  of  a  beast  of  the  field  or  a  fowl  of  the  firma- 
ment would  be  a  truer  one — more  worthy  of  its 
powers  and  more  equal  to  its  Creator's  end  in 
forming  it.  Such  a  register  is  kept.  Though  the 
trifier  does  not  chronicle  his  own  vain  words  and 
wasted  hours,  they  chronicle  themselves.  They 
find  their  indelible  place  in  that  book  of  remem- 
brance v/ith  which  human  hand  cannot  tamper,  and 
from  which  no  erasure  save  one  can  blot  them  out. 
They  are  noted  in  the  memory  of  God.  And  when 
once  this  life  of  wondrous  opportunities  and  awful 
advantages  is  over — when  the  twenty  or  fifty  years 
of  probation  are  fled  away — when  mortal  existence, 
with  its  facilities  for  personal  improvement  and 
serviceableness  to  others,  is  gone  beyond  recall  — 
when  the  trifler  looks  back  to  the  long  pilgrimage, 
with  all  the  doors  of  hope  and  doors  of  usefulness 
past  which  he  skijijied  in  his  frisky  forgetfulness — 
what  anguish  will  it  move  to  think  that  he  has 
gambolled  through  such  a  world  without  salvation  to 
himself,  without  any  real  benefit  to  his  brethren, 
a  busy  trifler,  a  vivacious  idler,  a  clever  fool  ! 

— Hamilton,  1814-1S67. 

(3231.)  The  mere  lapse  of  years  is  not  life.  To 
eat,  and  drink,  and  sleep — to  be  exposed  to  dark- 
ness and  the  light, — to  pace  round  in  the  mill  of 
hal):t,  and  turn  thought  into  an  implement  of  trade, 


— this  is  not  life.  In  all  this  but  a  poor  fraction  of 
the  consciousness  of  humanity  is  awakened  ;  and 
the  sanctities  will  slumber  which  make  it  worth 
while  to  be.  Knowledge,  truth,  love,  beauty,  good- 
ness, faith,  alone  can  give  vitality  to  the  mechanism 
of  existence.  The  laugh  of  mirth  that  vibrates 
through  the  heart  ;  the  tears  that  freshen  the  dry 
wastes  within  ;  the  music  that  brings  childhood 
back  ;  the  prayer  that  calls  the  future  near  ;  the 
doubt  which  makes  us  meditate  ;  the  death  which 
startles  us  with  mystery  ;  the  hardship  which  forces 
us  to  struggle  ;  the  anxiety  that  ends  in  trust ;  are 
the  true  nourishment  of  our  natural  being. 

— James  Martineau, 

6.  Sliould  139  devoted  to  great  purposes  accord* 
Ing  to  a  settled  plan. 

(3232.)  The  end  of  life  is  to  be  like  unto  God  ; 
and  the  soul  following  God  will  be  like  unto  Him  ; 
lie  being  the  beginning,  middle,  and  end  of  all 
things.  — Socrates,  B.C.  469-39. 

(3233-)  No  life  can  be  low  where  great  ends  are 
followed  ;  and  the  spirit  that  will  not  work  its 
mission  within  the  trammel  of  circumstance  will 
never  be  a  true  servant  of  that  Master  who  came  to 
found  a  kingdom  of  heaven  upon  earth,  and  who 
had  to  associate  with  Him  in  the  work  men  of 
another  spirit  than  His  own,  and  even  the  traitor 
who  sold  away  His  life.  — J.  H.  7'horn. 

(3234.)  Men  do  not  go  on  a  journey  aimlessly. 
No  man  goes  out  walking  that  he  does  not  follov/ 
his  thought.  No  man  ever  travels,  and  then  ascer- 
tains where  he  has  travelled  to  during  the  day.  A 
traveller  is  one  that  marks  out  for  himself  the  object 
for  which  he  seeks.  He  selects  a  destination,  and 
then  travels  with  a  distinct  purpose  toward  it.  No 
man  ever  builds  accidentally,  taking  here  a  stone, 
and  there  a  brick,  and  putting  them  down  with  the 
trowel  and  mortar  by  chance,  and  then  looking  to 
see  what  the  sum  of  all  his  separate  acts  amounts 
to.  It  would  amount  to  a  confused  heap,  and  to  no 
building.  One  selects  a  place,  he  chooses  a  plan, 
he  lays  the  foundation  according  to  a  prescribed 
idea,  and  then  builds  tier  upon  tier  definitely  and 
purposely. 

And  as  it  is  with  the  industrial  avocations  of  life, 
so  it  is  with  character  and  condition.  Men  ought 
not  at  least  to  live  aimlessly,  as  travellers  that 
follow  their  own  footsteps,  and  not  a  plan  that 
guides  tl'.eir  footsteps  ;  nor  as  builders  that  build 
chancedly,  and  not  after  a  prescribed  form.  Men 
should  have  before  them  a  distinct  idea  of  character, 
of  what  it  shall  be,  and  of  how  it  shall  be  formed. 
They  should  have  a  settled  purpose  of  life. 

— Beecher. 

(3235.)  A  man's  purpose  of  life  should  be  like  a 
river,  which  was  born  of  a  thousand  little  rills  in 
the  mountains  ;  and  when  at  last  it  has  reached  its 
manhood  in  the  plain,  though,  if  you  watch  it,  you 
shall  see-  little  eddies  that  seem  as  if  they  had 
changed  their  minds,  and  were  going  back  again  to 
the  mountains,  yet  all  its  mighty  current  flows, 
changeless,  to  the  sea.  If  you  build  a  dam  across 
it,  in  a  few  hours  it  will  go  over  it  with  a  voice  of 
victory.  If  tides  check  it  at  its  mouth,  it  is  only 
that  when  they  ebb  it  can  sweeji  on  again  to  the 
ocean.  So  goes  the  Amazon  or  the  Orinoco  across 
a  continent — never  losing  its  way  or  changing  it» 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(    5«    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


direction  for  the  thousand  streams  that  fall  info  it 
on  the  l.ght  hand  and  on  the  left,  but  only  using 
them  to  increase  its  force,  and  bearing  tliem  onward 
in  its  resistless  channel.  — Beecher. 

(3236.)  In  plan,  include  the  whole  :  in  execution, 
take  life  day  by  day.  Men  do  not  know  how  to 
reconcile  the  oppngnant  directions  tliat  we  should 
live  for  the  future,  and  yet  should  find  our  life  in 
fidelities  to  the  present  ;  but  the  last  is  only  the 
method  of  the  first.  True  aiming,  in  life,  is  like 
true  aiming  in  marksmanship.  We  always  look  at 
the  fore-sight  of  a  rifle  through  the  hind-sight. 

—Beecher. 

(3237.)  It  is  no  small  thing  for  a  man  to  have  a 
rule  in  his  mind  by  which  to  jud::;e  every  part  of  his 
life,  even  though  every  part  of  his  life  may  not 
always  conform  to  that  rule. 

If  you  have  stood  by  the  pilot  of  ft  ship,  and 
watched  him  as  he  steered  it,  you  know  that  such 
is  the  build  of  the  ship,  such  its  equipoise,  and 
such  is  the  unequal  motion  given  to  it  by  the  waves 
and  winds,  that  no  man  can  hold  it  exactly  to  its 
course.  No  sooner  is  it  brought  into  steering  line 
than  it  is  carried  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  One 
minute  it  is  too  far  inland.  The  next  minute  it  is 
too  far  in  the  opposite  direction.  The  pilot  is 
obliged  to  be  constantly  turning  the  wheel  to  meet 
the  various  forces  that  oppose  him.  The  steering 
of  a  ship  IS  marked  by  a  succession  of  imper- 
ceptible zigzags  ;  a  man's  life  certainly  is  whether 
a  ship's  steering  is  or  not  ;  but  where  the  voyage  is 
as  wide  as  the  breast  of  the  Atlantic,  where  it  is 
the  whole  of  our  earthly  existence,  and  where  a  man 
has  a  definite  purpose  which  constitutes  his  steering 
line,  and  he  comes  to  that  in  the  end,  it  amounts  to 
a  straight  voyage. 

We  see  the  same  thing  demonstrated  in  daily  life. 
We  see  supreme  purposes  which  men  have  formed 
funning  through  their  whole  career  in  tliis  world. 
A  young  man  means  to  be  a  civil  engineer.  That 
is  the  thing  to  which  his  mind  is  made  up  :  not  his 
father's  mind,  perhaps,  but  his.  He  feels  his 
adaptation  to  that  calling,  and  his  drawings  toward 
it.  He  is  young,  for^'etful,  inexperienced,  accessible 
to  youthful  sympathies,  and  is  frequently  drawn 
aside  from  hi<;  life-purpose.  To-day  he  attends  a 
picnic.  Next  week  he  devotes  a  day  to  some  other 
excursion.  Occasionally  he  loses  a  day  in  c-on- 
sequence  of  fatigue  caused  by  overaction.  Thus 
there  is  a  link  knocked  out  of  the  chain  of  this 
week,  and  a  link  knocked  out  of  t!:e  chain  of  that 
week.  And  in  the  course  of  the  summer  he  takes 
a  whole  week,  or  fortnight,  out  of  that  purpose. 
Yet,  there  is  the  thing  in  his  mind,  whether  he 
sleeps  or  wakes.  1 1  you  had  asked  him  a  month 
ago  what  he  meant  to  be  in  life,  he  would  have 
replied,  "I  mean  to  be  a  civil  engineer."  And  if 
you  ask  him  to-day  what  has  been  the  tendency  of 
his  life,  he  will  sny,  "  I  have  been  pre]iaiing  myself 
to  be  a  civil  engineer."  If  he  waits  and  does  no- 
thing, the  reason  is  that  he  wants  an  opportunity 
to  carry  out  his  purpose.  That  purpose  governs  his 
course,  and  he  will  not  engage  in  anything  that 
would  conflict  with  it. 

Now,  this  sovereign  purpose  of  a  man  to  live  for 
certain  great  moral  principles  and  moral  ends  ;  this 
sovereign  purpose  of  a  man  to  live  for  the  eternal 
world  ;  this  realisation  by  a  man  of  God's  existence 
and   God's   government  ;    this   determination   of  a 


man  to  be  governed  by  God's  law— this  is  itself  a 
settling  of  the  soul  in  a  way  that  lays  the  founda.- 
tion  for  satisfaction  and  for  peace,  it  gives  singit*. 
ness,  simplicity,  sincerity — for  these  three  wordi 
cluster  arounil  the  same  central  idea.  It  brings  tlie 
whole  life  to  aim  at  one  thing  ;  it  brings  the  wliole 
trind  under  one  government  ;  and  however  much 
the  separate  parts  may  rebel,  it  yet  holds  a  man  to 
one  direction,  and  reduces  all  things  to  simple  tests 
of  right  or  wrong  by  a  given  and  acknowledged 
standard  ;  but  as  age  advances,  victories  are  gained, 
education  rifiens  into  fixed  habits,  the  very  coniUct 
ceases,  and  the  whole  body  is  full  of  light  ! 

— Beecher. 

(323R.)  What  are  you  living  for?  You  are 
hurr):r!g  and  whirling  forward  at  a  tremendous 
rate,  your  brain  teems  with  conceptions,  your 
hand  hardly  knows  a  moment's  rest,  you  pursue  the 
bubble,  you  jostle  and  compete  and  envy,  you 
fl.Tttcr  and  are  flattered,  you  hoard  and  you  dispense. 
Wh.nf  does  it  all  mean?  Who  sketched  the  map 
by  which  you  regulate  your  pilgrinrage  ?  What 
account  can  you  give  of  yourself  to  those  who  ask 
the  name  of  your  guiding  spirit?  Take  the  sub- 
ject in  the  light  of  everyday  affairs,  and  the  singular 
absurdity  of  not  knowing  on  whose  business  you 
are  engaged  will  instantl-i  appear.  You  meet  a 
traveller  who  is  professedly  in  business  ;  you  ask 
him  what  is  his  business,  and  he  cannot  answer  ; 
you  ask  him  whose  interests  he  represents,  and  no 
reply  is  forthcoming  ;  you  ask  him  whether  he  is 
bound,  and  he  returns  the  inquiry  with  a  look  of 
vacancy  ; — to  what  conclusion  can  you  come  re- 
specting such  a  person?  You  instantly  feel  that  the 
man  is  a  child,  and  that  the  child  has  gone  astray. 
The  same  thing  holds  true  in  the  deepei  and  vaster 
concerns  of  life  ;  and  he  who  is  wisel}'  and  pro- 
foundly anxious  to  know  on  what  basis  he  is  pro- 
ceeding in  commercial  transactions,  should  look 
beyond  the  mere  detail,  and  face  the  great  question 
— upon  what  principle  is  my  intellectual,  emotional, 
moral,  and  spiritual  life  proceeding  ? 

— Joseph  Parker, 

(3239.)  We  very  often  miss  the  end  of  life  by 
having  no  object  before  us.  Years  ago — when  we 
were  a  boy,  a  pupil  in  an  old  frame  schoolhouse  by 
the  foot  of  a  hill  to  the  south  of  the  village — we 
went  with  a  number  of  boys  one  afternoon  in 
winter  to  have  some  sport.  A  meadow  was  distant 
half  a  mile  away.  A  light  snow  had  fallen,  and 
the  company  desired  to  make  the  most  of  it.  It 
was  too  dry  for  snow-balling,  and  was  not  deep 
enough  for  coasting.  It  did  very  well  to  make 
tracks  in. 

It  was  proposed  that  we  should  go  to  a  tree,  near 
the  centre  of  the  meadow,  and  that  each  one  should 
start  from  the  tree,  and  see  who  could  make  the 
straightest  track — that  is,  to  go  from  the  tree  in  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  straight  line.  The  proposi- 
tion was  assented  to,  and  we  were  all  soon  at  the 
tree.  We  ranged  ourselves  around  it  with  our 
backs  toward  the  trunk.  We  were  equally  distant 
from  each  other.  If  each  had  gone  forward  in  the 
right  line,  the  paths  we  made  would  have  been  like 
the  spokes  of  a  wheel,  the  tree  representing  the 
nave.  We  were  to  go  till  we  reached  the  boun- 
daries of  the  meadow,  when  we  were  to  retrace  our 
steps  to  the  tree. 

We  d'd  so.     I  wish  I  could  give  a  map  of  otrr 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(     544    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


tracks.  Such  a  map  would  not  present  mucti 
resemblance  to  the  s|iokes  of  a  wheel. 

*'  Whose  is  the  straightest  ?"  asked  James  Alison 
of  Thomas  Saunders,  who  was  at  the  tree  first. 

"  Henry  Armstrong's  is  the  only  one  that  is 
straiglit  at  all." 

"That's  a  fact,"  said  James.  "They  look  more 
like  snake  tracks  than  straight  lines." 

"  How  could  we  all  contrive  to  go  so  crookedly 
when  the  ground  is  so  smooth,  and  nothing  to  turn 
us  out  of  the  way?"  said  Jacob  Small. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  go  so  straight,  Henry?" 
said  Thomas. 

"I  fixed  my  eye  on  that  tall  pine-tree  on  the 
hill  yonder,  and  never  looked  away  from  it  till  I 
reached  the  fence." 

"  I  went  as  straight  as  T  could,  without  looking 
at  anything  but  the  ground,"  said  James. 

"  So  did  I,"  said  another. 

*'So  did  I,"  said  several  others.  It  appeared 
that  no  one  but  Henry  had  aimed  at  a  particular 
object. 

We  attempted  to  go  straight  without  any  definite 
aim.  We  failed.  So  it  will  be  with  men  for  ever, 
who  have  no  mark  in  view.  General  purposes, 
general  resolutions,  will  not  avail.  Multitudes  of 
Christians  go  through  life  without  having  led  one 
single  soul  to  Christ,  and  all  because  they  never  had 
a  single  aim  to  His  glory. 

7.  The  importance  of  having  and  maintaining- 
«n  Ideal  standard  of  excellence. 

(3240.)  'Ihere  are  those  that  ridicule  these  con- 
ceptions, and  ridicule  every  attempt  of  the  young 
to  live  a  higher  life  than  the  average  life  of  those 
by  whom  they  are  surrounded.  Why,  yes,  I  see 
now  how  the  woodbine  is  clasping  and  clinging 
and  clambering  over  every  object  within  its  reach. 
Wherever  it  can  find  some  old  and  unsightly  tree, 
how  it  shoots  toward  it,  and  throws  itself  a  generous 
tloak  around  about  it;  and  from  every  branch 
clear  to  the  top  it  holds  out  a  thousand  little  flngs 
of  leaves,  and  rejoices  in  its  triumphs  and  achieve- 
ments. About  the  root,  there  is  an  old  niullen, 
that  stands  laughing  at  the  woodbine,  and  saying, 
"  You  are  a  biave  climber  ;  but  as  for  myself,  I  do 
not  pretend  to  airs.  I  stand  here  a  good,  plain, 
sensible  mullen  ;  and  you  will  not  find  me  mounting 
to  such  dangerous  heights."  Tliere  is  that  fence. 
It  was  bare  last  year,  and  it  is  bare  this  year,  and 
it  would  be  liare  to  all  eternity,  for  anything  that  a 
mullen  would  do  to  cover  its  nakedness.  But  a 
generous  vine  cannot  see  a  stump,  or  a  stake,  or  a 
tree,  but  that  it  mounts  upon  it,  and  begins  to 
spread  its  beauty  all  over  it.  Do  not  let  the  mullen 
give  counsel  to  the  vine.  The  vine  is  right.  These 
tendrils,  that  represent  yearnings,  and  this  out- 
putting  nature  and  prodigality  of  growth,  are  riglit. 
Let  the  things  that  must  needs  hover  on  the  surface 
of  the  ground  grow  according  to  their  nature  ;  but 
let  no  man  laugh  you  out  of  your  ideals  by  calling 
them  sentimentalisms.  — Beecher. 

(^241.)  There  are  those  who  have  a  clear  con- 
ception of  the  possibilities  of  human  development, 
and  who  bring  enough  of  reason  with  their  imagina- 
tion to  give  deliniteness  and  purpose  to  their  ideals. 
In  this  class  we  all  should  seek  to  be  found.  They 
ase  imagination  conjointly  with  reason,  not  merely 
fr>  make  fancy-pictures,  but  to  draw  rules  and 
Standards  a«d  conceptions  after  wiiich  they  strive, 


seeking  to  fill  up  the  whole  mosaic  of  their  lives — 
for,  as  in  the  old  Byzantine  churches,  the  artists 
drew  upon  the  fresh  wall  the  outline  of  glorious  and 
gorgeous  pictures,  and  then  took  bits  of  coloured 
glass,  and,  with  long  patience,  filled  up  the  picture, 
until  at  last  the  mosaic  set  and  solidified  in  its  bed. 
They  brought  out  the  lines  and  lineaments  of  saints 
and  angels,  and  of  divinity  itself;  so  men  that  have 
sketched  in  the  future  some  bright  outline  should 
occupy  themselves  with  the  details  of  life  in  filling 
it  up,  and  forming  the  glorious  mosaic. 

— Beecher. 

{3242.)  Do  not  suppose,  when  you  have  formed 
an  ideal,  that  you  have  then  fulfilled  the  main  pur- 
poses of  life.  Be  sure  of  one  thing — that,  of  all 
vexatious  masters,  a  worthy  ideal  is  the  most  un- 
comfortable one  to  live  with.  It  never  flatters  you. 
It  never  praises  you.  It  is  always  rebuking  you. 
It  put  spurs  into  your  side.  It  lays  the  whip  upon 
you.  It  never  says,  "  Weil  done."  That  is  to  be 
said  in  the  other  life.  It  is  a  piteous  thing  to  see 
how  men  try,  in  the  midst  of  adverse  circumstances, 
to  follow  their  ideal. 

In  a  dark  and  stormy  night  a  ship  sees,  afar  off, 
the  shining  of  the  lightliouse,  which,  as  it  plunges 
beneath  the  wave,  is  lost  ;  and  as,  struggling  and 
rolling  the  water  off  from  its  deck,  it  comes  trembling 
up  again  on  the  refluent  wave,  it  gets  a  glimpse 
once  more,  only  to  lose  it.  So,  in  this  world,  men 
that  propose  bright  aims  to  themselves  in  the  midst 
of  the  turmoils  of  passion,  the  strivings  of  pride, 
and  the  biasses  of  self-interest,  in  all  the  whirls  of 
sympathy,  and  in  the  discordances  of  human 
example,  find  that  they  sometimes  forget  and  some- 
times violate  their  ideals  ;  and  the  fight  to  maintain 
our  ideals  is  almost  as  much  as  life  itself  is  worth. 
You  must  frame  your  ideal  ;  but  after  you  have 
done  that,  you  are  like  a  man  that  makes  a  voyage. 
When  you  have  marked  the  harbour,  your  work  is 
not  done.  You  have  yet  to  bear  hardness  as  good 
soldiers.  Putting  on  your  armour,  you  are  to  aim 
at  things  high  and  noble.  And  you  must  fight  your 
way  toward  them  through  ten  thousand  hindrances. 
And  only  then  shall  you  be  crowned  and  laurelled 
when  your  victory  is  won,  and  you  stand  in  Zion 
and  before  God.  — Beecher. 

(3243.)  Let  me  beseech  of  you  not  to  run  upon 
one  rock  that  is  fatal  to  nobility.  Because  you 
have  broken  your  purpose,  do  not  allow  it  to  go 
unmended.  Even  the  heathen  with  so  base  a  con- 
ception of  divinity  as  Dagon  was,  when  Dagon  fell 
to  the  ground,  lifted  him  up  again  and  put  him  in 
his  place.  When,  not  your  idol,  but  your  bright 
ideal,  falls  to  the  ground,  though  its  head  and  its 
feet  be  broken,  lift  it  up  and  put  it  in  its  place 
again.  Because  you  have  broken  faith  and  fealty 
to  that  which  you  meant  to  be,  and  meant  to  do,  it 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  swear  again,  and 
again  go  forward.  There  are  those  that  begin  life 
nobly,  generously,  purely  ;  but  that,  as  they  experi- 
ence the  throes,  and  mischances,  and  pressures,  and 
exigencies  of  life,  and  find  that  they  cannot  get 
along  according  to  their  ideals,  resort  to  various 
expedients,  the  most  fatal  of  which  is  to  say,  "  I 
have  set  my  mark  too  high.  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  disinterested  benevolence.  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  living  for  spiritual  ends.  Thei'C  is  no  such 
thing  as  purity  with  success."  Men  lower  their 
ideal  of  liie,  their  ideal  of  thought  and  feeling  and 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(    545    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


character,  and  say,  "  I  need  not  be  so  generous  ;  I 
need  not  live  according  to  such  high  precepts  and 
maxims,"  But  when  a  man  lowers  his  ideal,  you 
may  be  sure  that  the  process  of  corruption  is  going 
on  fast.  "  Let  God  be  true,  but  every  man  a  liar," 
is  one  of  the  sayings  of  Scripture.  Let  your  ideal 
stand  high  and  bright  and  pure,  though  by  it  every 
one  of  you  is  condemned,  and  cast  down,  as  it  were, 
to  the  very  bottom  of  condemnation.  Save  that. 
Even  ihougli  a  man  forsakes  his  purpose,  though 
he  is  recreant  to  his  ideal,  though  he  through 
months  and  years  goes  knowingly  wrong,  let  not 
his  star  set.  If  only  there  shines  his  polar  star, 
when  reason  comes  again,  and  the  films  of  passion 
bet^in  to  clear  away,  he  can  take  his  observation 
once  more,  and  resume  his  journey.  But  if  his  star 
has  fallen  he  has  nothing  to  steer  by,  and  his 
voyage  must  end  in  shipwreck  and  disaster.  Do 
not  let  your  ideal  go  down.  Keep  that,  like  a  star, 
bright,  and  pure,  and  high  above  the  horizon  ;  and 
then,  though  your  voyage,  though  your  labour,  may 
in.ermit,  you  have  that  by  which  you  can  begin  it 
again,  and  at  whose  sacred  light  you  can  kindle  the 
quenched  torch  of  your  purposes.  — Becchcr. 

8.  How  notoility  of  life  is  to  be  attained, 
(3244.)  Every  man's  life  lies  within  the  present  ; 
for  the  past  is  spent  and  done  with,  and  the  future 
is  uncertain.  — Atito7iinus. 

(3245.)  Life  is  made  up,  not  of  great  sacrifices  or 
duties,  but  of  little  things,  in  which  smiles  and 
kindnesses  and  small  obligations,  given  habitually, 
are  what  win  and  preserve  the  heart,  and  secure 
comfort.  — Sir  H.  Davy,  17  78 -1829. 

(3246.)  Every  man  is  to  himself  what  Plato  calls 
the  Great  Year.  He  has  his  sowing  time  and  his 
growing  time,  his  weeding,  his  irrigating,  and  his 
harvest.  The  principles  and  ideas  he  puts  into  his 
mind  in  youth  lie  there,  it  may  be,  for  many  yenrs 
apparently  unprolific.  But  nothing  dies.  'I'here 
is  a  process  going  on  unseen,  and  by  the  touch  of 
circumstances  ihe  man  springs  forth  into  strength, 
he  knows  not  why,  as  if  by  a  miracle.  But,  after 
all,  he  only  reaps  as  he  had  sown. 

—J.  A.  St.  John. 

(3247.)  A  noble  and  honourable  life  is  not  neces- 
sarily made  up  of  great  efforts — stujiendous  and 
exhausting  attempts  to  achieve  some  dazzling  victory 
— but  of  little  acts  of  consideration,  well-timed 
smiles  of  encouragement  and  hope,  gentle  words  of 
sympathy,  and  generous  interpretations  of  conduct. 
The  sun  does  not  wait  until  he  can  blaze  forth  in 
the  pomp  and  glory  of  mid-day.  First,  the  herald 
streak  ;  the  shaping  off  and  fringing  of  the  slumber- 
ous clouds  ;  the  purple  beauty  ;  the  multiplying  and 
conquering  fire ;  until  noon  is  king,  and  day  has 
forgotten  night.  — Joseph  Parker. 

(3248.)  Life  is  all  great.  Life  is  great  because  it 
is  the  aggregation  of  littles.  As  the  clialk  cliffs  in 
the  south,  tliat  rear  themselves  hundreds  of  feet 
above  the  crawling  sea  beneath,  are  all  made  up  of 
the  minute  skeletons  of  microscopic  animalculce,  so 
life,  mighty  and  awful,  with  its  eternal  conse- 
quences, lile  that  towers  beetling  over  the  sea  of 
eternity,  is  made  up  of  trifling  duties,  of  small 
tasks;  and  if  thou  art  not  "faithful  in  that  which 
is  least,"  thou  art  unfaithful  in  ihe  wjiole. 

— Maclaren. 


(3249.)  See  to  it  that  each  hour's  feelings  and 
thoughts  and  actions  are  pure  and  true  ;  then  will 
your  life  be  such.  The  mightiest  maze  of  magnifi- 
cent harmonies  that  ever  a  Beethoven  gave  to  the 
world,  is  but  single  notes,  and  all  its  complicated 
and  interlacing  strains  are  resolvable  into  indi- 
vidualities. The  wide  pasture  is  but  separate 
spears  of  grass  ;  the  sheeted  bloom  of  the  prairies, 
but  isolated  flowers.  — Beecher. 

(3250.)  We  sleep,  but  the  loom  of  life  never 
stops  ;  and  the  pattern  which  was  weaving  when 
the  sun  went  down  is  weaving  when  it  comes  up 
to-morrow.  He  who  is  false  to  present  duty 
breaks  a  thread  in  the  loom,  and  will  find  the  flaw 
when  he  may  have  forgotten  its  cause. 

— Beecher. 

(3251.)  You  think  that  one  hour  buries  another  ; 
but  it  is  not  so.  You  think  that  you  have  parted 
for  ever  from  the  things  which  have  passed  by  you. 
No,  you  have  not.  There  is  much  in  your  life  that 
you  think  has  gone  which  you  never  shall  part  from. 
It  has  stepped  behind  you  ;  and  there  it  waits. 
That  which  you  have  done  is  with  you  to-day  ;  and 
that  which  you  have  done  will  be  with  you  to- 
morrow. When  the  mason  carries  up  the  wall,  the 
course  of  brick  which  he  laid  yesterday  is  the 
foundation  on  which  he  is  laying  another  course 
to-day.  And  all  that  you  do  to-day  on  the  struc- 
ture which  you  are  building  will  remain  as  a  basis 
for  that  which  you  do  to-morrow.  — Belcher. 

e.  "Seeing  life." 

(3252.)  Those  that  are  thoroughly  arted  in  navi- 
gation do  as  well  know  the  coasts  as  the  ocean  ;  as 
well  the  flaws,  the  sands,  the  shallows,  and  the 
rocks,  as  the  secure  dejjths  in  the  most  unperilous 
channel.  So  1  think  that  those  that  are  perlect 
men  (I  speak  of  perfection  since  the  Fall)  must  as 
well  know  bad,  that  tiiey  may  obtrude  it,  as  the 
good,  that  they  may  embrace  it.  And  this  know- 
ledge we  can  neither  have  so  cheap,  or  so  certam, 
as  by  seeing  it  in  others  with  a  pitiful  dislike. 
Surely,  we  shall  know  virtue  the  better  by  seeing 
that  which  is  not  she.  If  we  could  pass  the  world 
without  meeting  vice,  then  the  knowledge  of  virtue 
only  were  sufficient.  But  it  is  not  possible  to  live 
and  not  encounter  her.  Vice  is  as  a  god  in  this 
world  ;  whither  can  we  go  to  fly  it?  It  has  a  ubi- 
quity, and  rules  too.  I  wish  no  man  to  know  it, 
either  by  use  or  by  intrusion  ;  but  being  unwittingly 
cast  upon  it,  let  him  observe  for  his  own  more  safe 
direction.  Thou  art  happy  when  thou  makest  an- 
other man's  vices  steps  for  thee  to  climb  to  heaven 
by.  The  wise  physican  makes  the  poison  medicin 
able.  Even  the  mud  of  the  world,  by  the  industrious 
Hollander,  is  turned  to  a  useful  fuel.  If  I  light  on 
good  company,  it  bliall  either  induce  me  to  a  new 
good,  or  confirm  me  in  my  liked  old.  If  1  light 
on  bad,  I  will,  by  considering  their  dull  stains, 
either  correct  those  faults  I  have,  or  shun  those  I 
might  have.  As  the  mariner  that  has  sea- room, 
can  make  any  wind  serve  to  set  him  forward  in  his 
wished  voyage,  so  a  wise  man  may  take  advantage 
from  any  company  to  set  himself  forward  to  virtue's 
region.  — Felltham,  1668. 

(3253.)  As  there  is  no  feat  of  activity  so  difficult, 
but,  being  once  done,  a  man  ventures  on  it  more 
freely  the  second  time  ;  so  there  is  no  sin  at  first  so 
hateful,  but,  being  once  committed  willingly,  a  man 

2  M 


LIFE,     HUMAN 


(     546    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


is  made  more  prone  for  a  reiteration.  For  there  is 
more  desire  of  a  Ivnown  pleasuie,  tlian  of  that 
which  only  our  ears  have  heard  report  of.  So  far  is 
ignorance  good,  that  in  a  calm  it  keeps  the  mind 
from  distraction  ;  and  knowledge,  as  it  breeds 
desire  in  all  things,  so  in  sin.  Bootless,  therefore, 
shall  ever  be  tliat  cunning  fetch  of  Satan,  when  he 
would  induce  me  once  to  make  a  trial  of  sin,  that  I 
might  thereby  know  more,  and  be  able  to  fill  up  my 
mouth  with  discourse,  my  mind  with  fruition  ; 
bearing  me  in  hand.  I  may  at  my  pleasure  give  it 
the  hand  of  parting,  and  a  final  farewell.  Too  often, 
alas !  have  I  been  deceived  with  this  beguiling 
persuasion,  of  a  power  to  leave,  and  a  will  to  return 
at  my  will.  Henceforth  shall  my  care  be  to  refrain 
from  once.  If  I  grant  that,  stronger  persuasions 
will  plead  for  a  second  action  :  it  is  easier  to  deny 
a  guest  at  first,  than  to  turn  him  out  having  stayed 
a  while.  Thou  knowest  not,  senseless  man,  what 
joys  thou  losest  when  thou  fondly  lashest  into  new 
offences.  The  world  cannot  repurchase  thee  thy 
pristine  integrity  :  thou  hast  hereby  lost  such  a 
hold  of  grace,  as  thou  wilt  never  again  be  able  to 
recover.  A  mind  not  conscious  of  any  foul  enormi- 
ties is  a  fair  temple  in  a  dirty  street ;  at  whose  door 
sin,  like  a  throng  of  rude  plebeians,  knocks  in- 
cessantly :  while  the  door  is  shut,  it  is  easy  to  keep 
it  so,  and  them  out  :  open  that,  but  to  let  in  one, 
thousands  will  rush  in  after  him,  and  their  tramp- 
lings  will  for  ever  soil  that  unstained  floor.  While 
thy  coriscience  is  unspotted,  thou  hast  that  can 
make  thee  smile  on  the  rack  and  amid  flames  ;  it 
is  like  Homer's  Nepenthe,  that  can  banish  the 
sadness  of  the  mind  ;  but  when  thou  woundest  that, 
thou  buriest  thy  joys  at  once,  and  throwest  a  jewel 
from  thee  that  is  richer  than  the  wealth  of  worlds. 
Fool  that  thou  art,  that,  wandering  in  a  dark 
wilderness,  dost  wilfully  put  out  thy  candle,  and 
thinkest  cold  water  can  slake  thy  thirst  in  the  burn- 
ing fit  of  an  ague ;  when  it  only  breeds  in  thee  a 
desire  to  pour  in  more.  He  that  never  tasted  the 
pleasures  of  sin  longs  less  after  those  baneful  dis- 
contenting contents.  What  sweets  of  sin  I  know 
not,  I  desire  still  to  be  inexperienced  in.  I  had 
rather  not  know,  than  by  knowledge  be  miserable. 
'I'his  ignorance  will  teach  me  knowledge  of  an  un- 
known peace.  Let  me  rather  be  outwardly  maimed, 
and  want  discourse,  than  be  furnished  of  that,  and 
possess  a  wound  that  bleeds  within. 

—FelUham,  1668. 

(3254»  Hundreds  of  men  are  mined  by  city  ex- 
ploration. They  go  to  see  for  themselves.  A  man 
hears  that  lions  are  very  dangerous.  He  says,  "  Is 
that  so?"  He  opens  the  cage;  and  the  monster 
with  one  stroke  fells  him,  and  with  one  craunch 
grinds  up  his  skull.  The  lion  never  imagined  that 
the  man  had  come  in  to  study  natural  history.  Oh  ! 
the  devil  is  mean.  He  says,  "Come  in  and  see." 
The  man  goes  in  to  look  for  himself ;  the  roaring 
lion  grabs  him,  and  he  is  gone.  He  learns  human 
nature  dearly  who  learns  it  at  the  risk  of  his  im- 
mortal nature.  — Talmage. 

(3255-)  If  there  are  any  that  have  made  up  their 
mind  to  know  life,  I  say  to  them,  Stop  !  You  may 
pay  too  dear  for  your  knowledge.  Men  have  looked 
into  the  crater  of  a  volcano  to  see  what  is  there, 
and  gone  down  to  explore,  without  coming  back  to 
report  progress.  Many  and  many  a  man  has  gone 
to  see  wlxat  w*s  in  hell,  that  did  see  it.     Many  and 


many  a  man  has  looked  to  see  what  was  in  the  cup, 
and  found  a  viper  coiled  up  therein.  Many  and 
many  a  man  has  gone  into  the  house  of  lust,  and 
found  that  the  ends  thereof  were  death — bitter, 
rotten  death.  Many  and  many  a  man  has  sought 
to  learn  something  of  the  evils  of  gambling,  and 
learned  it  to  his  own  ruin.  And  1  say  to  every 
man,  the  more  you  know  about  these  things,  the 
more  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  knowing  ;  a 
knowledge  of  them  is  not  necessary  to  education  or 
manhood,  and  they  ought  to  be  avoided,  because 
when  a  man  has  once  fallen  into  them,  the  way  out 
is  so  steep  and  hard.  Many  and  many  a  man  has 
begun  to  climb  the  giddy  cliff  of  reformation  ;  but, 
oh  !  how  few  have  succeeded  in  getting  over  its 
brow  !  Methinks  I  see  men  sweltering  in  passions, 
and  swimming  out  to  the  base  of  the  cliff,  and 
attempting  to  climb  up.  Some  are  higher  than 
others.  One  after  another  falls  back,  or  is  plucked 
down  by  some  fiendish  hand.  Some  are  half  way 
up  the  cliff,  and  struggling  hard  to  reach  the  top. 
Some  turn  ghastly  pale  when  they  look  down  at 
the  abyss  below  ;  and  they  are  filled  with  despair 
when  they  look  up  at  the  height  above  them.  And 
where  one  goes  over  and  is  saved,  ninety-nine  fall 
back  and  are  lost.  — Beecher, 

10.  The  love  of  life. 

(3256.)  The  love  of  life  is  a  powerful  instinct. 
God  has  implanted  it  in  the  bosom  wisely.  And, 
during  the  natural  years  of  life,  this  instinct  holds 
us  to  it,  as  the  stem  holds  an  apple  to  the  bough. 

— Beecher. 

11.  Long  life. 

( I , )   The  blessing  of  the  godly. 

(3257.)  Long  life  and  length  of  days  is  the  bless- 
ing and  gift  of  God,  that  which  He  promises  and 
performs  to  all  those  who  fear  Hmr  and  walk  in 
His  ways. 

Objection. — But  many  of  the  children  of  God  die 
untimely,  and  live  not  long;  how,  then,  is  this  true? 

Ansrver.  —  This  is  not  simply  a  blessing,  as  if  he 
were  happy  that  lives  long,  but  as  a  symbol  or  sign 
of  God's  good  favour  and  love.  If,  then.  He  shows 
His  love  to  some  rather  by  taking  them  out  of  this 
life,  than  by  prolonging  their  days.  He  doth  the 
rather  perform  His  promise  than  break  it.  A  man 
promises  ten  acres  of  ground  in  one  field,  and  gives 
him  a  hundred  in  another,  he  has  not  broken  his 
promise.  So  if  God  have  promised  long  life,  that 
is,  a  hundred  years  here,  and  after  not  give  it  him, 
but  gives  him  eternity  in  the  heavens.  He  has  not 
broken  His  promise  ;  for  it  not  being  promised  as 
a  blessing  and  happy  thing  in  itself,  but  as  a  sign 
of  His  goodwill,  which  is  greater  sometimes  to  be 
taken  out  of  this  life  ;  as  Jeroboam's  good  son  was, 
that  he  might  not  be  infected  with  the  sins  of  his 
father's  house,  and  not  afflicted  with  the  sight  of 
those  horrible  judgments  that  were  to  fall  upon  that 
graceless  family  ;  which  was  no  ill  bargain,  to  be 
taken  from  earth  to  heaven,  from  the  conllict  to  the 
triumjjh,  from  the  battle  to  the  victory,  from  men 
to  God,  and  to  the  company  of  His  angels  and 
saints.  — Stock,  1568-1626. 

(2.)  Is  to  the  ungodly  merely  a  reprieve. 

(3258.)  All  mankind  being  condemned  as  sooa 
as  born,  life  is  but  a  reprieve,  a  suspension  of  cita- 
tion, a  breathing  time  of  mercy,  a  suspending  0/ 
wrath — the  sleeping  of  a  storm,  which  is  about  to 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(    547    ) 


LIFE.     1  I  Ajj\N 


burst  forth  in  floods  of  destruction  on  all  who  are 
not  shehered  in  Christ — it  is  the  staying  the  al- 
mighty arm  of  Him  who  saiih,  "  Vengeance  is 
mine,  I  will  repay."  This  is  just  what  U.e  is — a 
calm  to  usher  in  a  mighty  tempest. 

X2.  How  its  leng^tb  Is  to  be  estimated. 

(3259.)  Life  is  not  to  be  numbered  by  its  hours, 
but  measured  by  cheerfulness,  as  moneys  nut  by 
tale  but  value.  A  little  piece  of  gold  contains  a 
great  many  pieces  of  silver.  Manhood  consists  not 
in  the  bulk  of  bones,  but  in  the  mettle  and  spirits. 
Is  not  one  week  ol  a  healthy  man  better  than  a  year 
of  a  crazy  ;  one  sunshine  hour,  than  a  gloomy  day  ? 
1  have  often  mused  how  a  man  might  come  nearest 
to  that  life  which  Adam  lost,  and  recompense  in 
this  latter  age  of  the  world  (wherein  the  lives  of 
men  are  so  contracted)  the  longevity  of  those  that 
lived  before  the  flood.  And  this  is  the  best  help  I 
find  :  to  live  well  is  to  live  twice.  A  good  man 
doubles  and  amplifies  his  days  ;  one  may  speak  as 
much  in  a  few  words  as  another  in  many.  Persius 
wrote  more  in  a  few  leaves  than  Marsius  in  large 
Volumes.  One  day  led  by  the  rules  of  faith  is 
l)etter  than  an  iumiortality  of  vanity. 

—  Ward,  1577-1639- 

(3260.)  Life  is  to  be  measured  by  action,  not  by 
time  ;  a  man  may  die  tild  at  thirty,  and  young  at 
eighty  ;  nay,  the  one  lives  after  death,  and  the 
other  perished  before  he  died. 

—  T.  Fuller,  160S-1661. 

(3261.)  Seventy  years  of  life  may  be  much  more 
important,  and  may,  lor  all  the  purposes  of  living, 
be  much  longer  at  one  period  of  the  world  than 
another.  It  is  much  more  so  now  than  it  ever  was 
or  could  be  among  savage  tribes  ;  than  it  was  in 
ancient  Egypt  or  Assyria ;  than  it  was  or  is  in 
India  or  in  China;  than  it  was  in  Scotland,  in 
England,  in  France,  or  in  Germany  previous  to  the 
Relormation  ;  than  it  was  in  our  own  country  dur- 
ing the  last  century.  The  discoveries  which  have 
been  made  in  our  own  times — the  inventions  and 
improvements  in  the  arts  of  living — have  been  equi- 
valent to  making  life  twice  or  thrice  or  four  times 
aj  long  as  it  once  was.  A  man  whose  business  it  is 
to  travel,  who  can  pass  over  as  much  in  his  journey 
new  in  one  hour  as  would  on  a  camel,  or  on  a 
horse,  or  on  foot  have  occupied  twelve  hours,  has  in 
this  respect  added  eleven  hours  in  such  a  journey 
to  his  life.  The  unconscious  powers  of  nature  now 
accomplish  a  large  part  of  what  was  done  by  human 
muscles,  and  do  it  better  than  it  could  have  been 
done  by  the  unaided  hand  of  man.  The  mere 
lengthening  of  lile  to  the  period  of  Methuselah 
would  not  in  itself  be  equivalent  to  what  has  been 
gained  in  this  manner  ;  and,  for  all  the  purposes  ol 
living,  human  life  is  now  incomparably  longer  than 
it  was  in  the  time  of  the  antediluvian  patriaichs. 
— Albeit  Barnes,  1790-15^70. 

(3262.)  An  eminent  divine  was  suffering  under 
chronic  disease,  and  consulted  three  physicians. 
They  declared,  on  being  consulted  by  the  sick  man, 
that  his  disease  would  be  followed  by  death  in  a 
shorter  or  longer  time,  according  to  the  manner  in 
which  he  lived  ;  but  they  unanimously  advised  him 
to  give  up  his  office  because,  in  his  situation,  mental 
agitation  would  be  fatal  to  him. 

"If,"  inquired  the  divine,  "  I  gave  myself  up  to 


repose,  how  long,  gentlemen,  would  you  guarantee 
my  life  ?  " 

"  Probably  six  years,"  answered  the  doctors. 

"And  if  I  continue  in  office?" 

"Tliree  years,  at  most." 

"Your  servant,  gentlemen,"  he  replied;  "I 
should  prefer  living  two  or  three  years  in  doing 
Some  good  to  living  si.\  years  in  idleness." 

13.  Its  brevity. 

(3263.)  My  life  is  like  the  autumn  leaf 

That  trembles  in  ilie  moon's  pale  ray, 
Its  hold  is  1 1  ail — its  date  is  brief, 
Restless — and  soon  to  pass  away  ! 

—A'.  H.  Wilde. 

(3264.)  If  a  company  that  are  bound  out  for  some 
long  voyage  should  strive  who  should  be  master 
and  who  master's  mate,  and  who  should  have  this 
or  that  office,  they  were  not  too  much  to  be 
blamed  ;  but  when  they  are  almost  at  home,  within 
sight  of  land,  when  they  shall  begin  to  strike  sail, 
to  tack  in  all  and  go  ashore,  then,  if  they  shall  fall 
a-quarrelling  for  places,  and  use  all  the  means  they 
could  make,  it  were  a  ridiculous  thing.  So  it  is 
with  us  ;  time  was  when  a  man  came  into  the 
world  by  the  course  of  nature,  he  might  well  say, 
"  1  have  a  matter  of  six,  or  seven,  or  eight  hundred 
years  to  go  on  in  my  pilgrimage  before  I  shall  end 
my  journey,"  and  then  if  a  man  should  greet  the 
world,  he  might  be  excused.  But  now,  since  God 
hath  contracted  the  time  of  our  age,  so  that  as  soon 
as  we  begin  our  voyage  we  are  ready  to  strike  sail 
presently,  that  we  have  but  a  little  time  to  continue 
liere  and  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do  for  hereafter,  to 
stand  striving  who  shall  be  greatest,  who  shall 
rule  all,  to  cry  out  of  afflictions  just  when  we  are 
going  ashore,  is  extreme  folly  and  madness. 

— Spencer,  •id'^i. 

{3265.)  Though  we  seem  grieved  at  the  shortness 
of  life  in  general,  we  are  wishing  every  period  of  it 
at  an  end  :  the  minor  longs  to  be  at  age  ;  then  to 
be  a  man  of  business  ;  then  to  make  up  an  estate  ; 
then  to  arrive  at  honours  ;  then  to  retire. 

— Addison,  1672-1719. 

(3266.)  With  a  telescope  directed  towards  one 
end  of  things  created,  and  a  microscope  towards 
the  other,  we  sigh  to  think  how  short  is  life,  and 
how  long  is  the  list  of  acquirable  knowledge.  Alas  ! 
what  is  man  in  the  nineteenth  century  1  It  is  pro- 
voking that,  now  we  have  the  means  of  learning 
most,  we  have  the  least  time  to  learn  it  in.  If  we 
had  but  the  longevity  of  the  antediluvian  patriarchs, 
we  might  have  some  hope,  not  of  completing  our 
education,  but  ol  passing  a  respectable  previous  exa- 
mination prior  to  our  admittance  into  a  higher 
school.  — Household  Words. 

(3267.)  How  brief  it  is  !  Who  stood  sentinel  by 
the  gate  of  Shushan  when  the  royal  couriers,  bearing 
hope  to  the  Jews,  dashed  through,  burying  their 
spurs  in  their  horses'  flanks — who  lately  stood  on 
the  platform  by  the  iron  rails  that  stretch  from 
Holyhead  to  London,  when,  signals  flashed  on 
along  the  line  to  stop  the  traffic  and  keep  all  clear,  an 
engine  and  carriage  dashed  by  with  tidings  of  peace 
or  war  from  America — saw  an  image  of  our  lile. 
The  eagle  poising  herself  a  moment  on  the  wing, 
and  then  rushing  at  her  prey  ;  the  ship  that, 
throwing  the  spray  from  het  bows,  scuds  before  the 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(     548     ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


gale  ;  the  shuttle  flashing  through  the  loom  ;  the 
shadow  of  a  cloud  sweeping  the  hill-side,  and  then 
gone  for  ever,  nor  leaving  a  trace  behind  ;  the 
summer  llowers  that  vanishing,  have  left  our  gardens 
tiare,  and/where  were  sjiread  out  the  colours  of  the 
rainbow,  only  dull,  black  earth,  or  the  rotting 
wrecks  of  beauty — these,  with  many  other  fleeting 
things,  are  emblems  by  which  God  through  nature 
teaches  us  how  frail  we  are  ;  at  the  longest,  how 
sliort  our  days.  What  need,  therefore,  there  is  to 
seize  the  passing  moments  —  seeking  the  Lord 
while  He  is  to  be  found.  — Guthrit. 

(3568.)  Life,  like  a  little  lamp  whose  oil  quickly 
consumes,  is  rapidly  wasting  away.  Ever  and  anon 
we  are  deeply  conscious  of  this.  Not  seldom  time 
seems  too  fast  for  us.  As  a  traveller  journeying  by 
express  train  is  aroused  from  his  sleep  by  arriving 
at  his  destination  and  exclaims,  "  I  have  got  here 
sooner  than  I  expected  ; "  so  are  we  tempted  to  ex- 
claim as  we  reached  various  resting-places  during 
life's  pilgrimage.  Certain  stations  come  sooner 
than  we  thought  they  would.  Oa  birthdnys,  new 
years'  days,  and  other  anniversaries,  we  feel  that  we 
have  "got  there  sooner  than  we  expected." 

— T.  R.  Stevenson. 

14.  Its  vanity. 

(3269.)  Life  consists  not  of  a  series  of  illustrious 
aciions  or  elegant  enjoyments  :  the  greater  part  of 
o  ir  lime  passes  in  compliance  with  necessities,  in 
the  |)frformance  of  daily  duties,  in  the  removal 
(il  small  inconveniences,  in  the  procurement  of  petty 
pie  sures  ;  and  we  are  well  or  ill  at  ease  as  the  main 
stream  of  life  glides  on  smoothly,  or  is  ruffled  by 
Kuiall  obstacles  and  frequent  observation. 

— Dr.  S.  yb/iHson,  1709-17S4. 

(3270.)  My  life  is  like  the  summer  rose 
.         That  opens  to  the  morning  sky. 
But  ere  the  shades  of  evening  close, 
Is  scatter'd  on  the  ground — to  die  : 

My  life  is  like  the  prints  which  feet 
Have  left  on  Tampa's  desert  strand  j 

Soon  as  the  rising  tide  shall  beat, 
All  trace  will  vanish  from  the  sand, 
—ye.  H.  ^yUde. 

15.  Its  uncertainty  and  transltoriness. 
(3271.)   Life  is  a  dream,  and  a  scene  ;  and  as  on 

(he  stage  when  the  scene  is  shifted  the  various 
pageants  disappear,  and  as  dreams  flit  away  when 
the  sunbeams  rise,  so  here  when  the  end  comes, 
whether  the  universal  or  that  of  each  one,  all  is 
dissolved  and  vanishes  away.  The  tree  that  you 
have  planted  remains,  and  the  house  that  you  have 
built,  it  too  stands  on.  But  the  planter  and  the 
builder  go  away,  and  perish, 

Chrysostom,  347-407. 
(3272.)  Like  as  one  in  a  ship,  whether  he  sit, 
stand,  awake  or  asleep,  is  ever  still  carried  forward, 
although  he  mark  it  not  greatly,  neither  feel  it  ;  so 
ojr  life  is  a  continual  motion,  doth  every  twinkling 
of  an  eye  steal  forth,  and  privily  creep  to  the  end, 
though  we  mark  not  how  the  time  passeth.  David 
saith,  "Our  time  goeth  forth  swiftly,  as  though  we 
did  fly."  As  if  he  would  say,  There  can  nothing 
run  or  fly  away  more  swiftly.  And  Sirac  saith, 
"  Remember  that  death  tarrieth  not."  Paul  saith, 
*'  I  die  daily."  For  even  "  in  the  midst  of  life  we 
are  in  dealii,"  yea,  death  daily,  as  soon  as  we  are 
born,  tak'.-th  away  somewhat  of  our  life.     After  this 


meaning  writeth  Augustine,  "The  time  of  this  lift 
is  nothing  else  but  a  rounding  unto  death." 

—  IVervitdlerus,  1551. 

(3273.)  As  it  is  with  a  man,  being  come  to  some 
great  fair  or  market,  with  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  about  him,  who  whilst  he  is  walking  in  the 
throng,  considering  with  himself  how  he  should  lay 
out  his  money  to  the  best  advantage,  some  sly 
fellow  either  cuts  his  purse  or  at  unawares  dives 
into  his  pocket,  and  there  is  an  end  of  all  his 
marketing  ;  so  it  is  with  most  men,  that  whilst  they 
are  in  the  midst  of  all  their  secular  employments, 
and,  as  it  were,  crowded  in  the  throng  of  worldly 
contrivances,  how  to  secure  such  a  ship,  advantage, 
trade,  compass  such  and  such  a  bargain,  purchase 
such  and  such  lands,  &c.  (things  in  themselves 
with  necessary  cautions  not  unlawful),  in  steps 
death,  cuts  the  thread  of  their  life,  spoils  all  their 
trade,  ahd  lays  their  glory  in  the  dust. 

— Marshall,  1655. 

(3274.)    Though  in   the  course  of   undisturbed 

nature,  young  men  may  live  longer  than  the  old, 
yet  nature  hath  so  many  disturbances  and  crosses, 
that  our  lives  are  still  like  a  candle  in  a  broken 
lanthorn,  which  a  blast  of  wind  may  soon  blow  out. 
— Baxter,  161 5- 169 1. 

16.  Its  close. 

(3275.)  Life's  evening,  we  may  rest  assured,  will 
take  its  character  from  the  day  which  has  preceded 
it ;  and  if  we  would  close  our  career  in  the  comfort 
of  religious  hope,  we  must  prepare  for  it  by  early 
and  continuous  religious  habit. 

— Sh  iittleviortk. 

(3276.)  You  gladly  now  see  life  before  you,  but 
there  is  a  moment  which  you  are  destined  to  meet 
when  you  will  have  passed  across  it  and  will  find 
yourself  at  the  farther  edge.  Are  you  perfectly  cer- 
tain that  at  that  moment  you  will  be  in  possession 
of  something  that  will  enable  you  not  to  care  that 
life  is  gone?     If  you  should  not,  what  then  ? 

— John  foster,  1770-1843. 

(3277.)  William  the  Conqueror  established  the 
ringing  oi  curjnv  bells.  The  meaning  of  that  cur- 
few bell,  sounded  at  eventime,  was,  that  all  the  fires 
should  be  put  out  or  covered  with  ashes,  all  the 
lights  should  be  extinguished,  and  the  people  should 
go  to  bed.  Soon  for  us  the  curfew  will  sound. 
The  fires  of  our  life  will  be  banked  up  in  ashes,  and 
we  shall  go  into  the  sleep,  the  long  sleep,  the  cool 
sleep,  I  hope  the  blessed  sleep.  But  there  is  no 
gloom  in  that  if  we  are  ready.  — lalmage. 

17.  Its  relation  to  eternity. 

(3278.)  This  life  was  not  intended  to  be  the  place 
of  our  perfection,  but  the  preparation  for  it.  As 
the  fruit  is  far  from  ripeness  in  the  first  appearance, 
or  the  flower  while  it  is  but  in  the  husk  or  bud  ;  or 
the  oak  when  it  is  but  an  acorn,  or  any  plant  when 
it  is  but  in  the  seed  ;  no  more  is  the  very  nature  of 
man  upon  earth.  As  the  infant  is  not  perfect  in 
the  womb,  nor  the  chicken  in  the  shell,  no  more 
are  our  natures  perfect  in  this  world. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3279.)  Natural  life  is  like  the  river  Jordan, 
empties  itself  into  the  Dead  Sea ;  but  spiritual  life 
is  like  the  waters  of  the  sanctuarj',  which,  being 
shallow  at  the  first,  grow  deeper  and  deeper  into  a 


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(    549    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


river,  which  cannot  be  passed  through :  watei"  con- 
tinually springing,  and  running  forward  into  eternal 
life  ;  so  that  the  life  which  we  leave  is  mortal  and 
perishing,  and  that  which  we  go  into  is  durable 
and  abounding.  — Salter. 

(32S0.)  Considered  as  a  state  of  probation,  our 
present  condition  loses  all  its  inherent  meanness  ; 
it  derives  a  moral  grandeur  even  from  the  shortness 
of  its  duration,  when  viewed  as  a  contest  for  an 
immortal  crown,  in  which  the  candidates  are  exhi- 
bited on  a  theatre,  a  siiectacle  to  beings  of  the 
highest  order,  who,  conscious  of  the  tremendous 
importance  of  the  issue,  of  the  magnitude  of  the 
interest  at  stake,  survey  the  combatants  from  on 
high  with  benevolent  and  trembling  solicitude. 

— Robert  Hall,  17 64- 1 83 1. 

(3281.)  There  are  some  who  say,  "What  use  is 
there  in  doing  anything  in  this  wor-ld  ?  It  scarcely 
seems  worth  while,  in  this  brief  span  of  life,  to  try 
to  do  anything."  A  man  is  placed  in  a  high 
situation,  receives  an  expensive  education  at  school 
and  college,  and  a  still  more  expensive  one  of  time 
and  experience.  And  then,  just  when  we  think  all 
this  ripe  wisdom,  garnereil  up  from  so  many  fields, 
shall  find  its  fullest  use,  we  hear  that  all  is  over, 
he  has  passed  from  among  us,  and  then  the  question, 
hideous  in  its  suggestiveness,  arises,  "  Why  was 
he  then  more  wise?" 

Asked  from  this  world's  stand-point — if  there  is 
no  life  beyond  the  grave,  if  there  is  no  immortality, 
if  all  spiritual  calculation  is  to  end  here,  why  then, 
the  mighty  work  of  God  is  all  to  end  in  nothing- 
ness :  but  if  this  is  only  a  state  of  infancy,  only  the 
education  for  eternity,  in  which  the  soul  is  to  gain 
its  wisdom  and  experience  for  higher  work,  then  to 
ask  why  such  a  mind  is  taken  I  rem  us,  is  just  as 
absurd  as  to  question  why  the  tree  of  the  forest  has 
its  first  training  in  the  nursery  garden.  This  is  but 
the  nursery  ground,  from  whence  we  are  to  be 
transplanted  into  the  great  forest  of  God's  eternal 
universe.  — Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(3282.)  The  one  thing  which  saves  this  life  from 
being  contemptible  is  the  thought  ol  another.  The 
more  profoundly  we  feel  the  reality  of  the  great 
eternity  whither  we  are  being  drawn,  the  greater  do 
all  things  here  become.  They  are  made  less  in 
their  power  to  absorb  or  trouble,  but  they  are  made 
infinitely  greater  in  importance  as  preparations  for 
what  is  beyond.  When  they  are  first  they  are 
small,  when  they  are  second  they  are  great.  When 
the  mist  lifts  and  shows  the  summits  of  the  "  moun- 
tains of  God,"  the  nearer  lower  ranges,  which  we 
thought  the  highest,  dwindle  indeed,  but  gain  in 
sublimity  and  meaning  by  the  loftier  peaks  to  which 
they  lead  up.  Unless  men  and  women  live  for 
eternity  they  are  "merely  j^layers,"  and  all  their 
busy  tiays  "  like  a  tale  told  by  an  idiot,  full  of 
sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothtng."  How  absurd, 
how  monotonous,  how  trivial  it  all  is,  all  this  fret 
and  fume,  all  these  dying  joys  and  only  less  fleeting 
pains,  all  this  mill  horse  round  of  work  which  we 
pace,  unless  we  are,  mill-horse  like,  driving  a  shaft 
that  goes  throtigh  the  wall,  and  grinds  something 
that  falls  into  "  bags  that  wax  notokl  "  on  the  other 
side.  The  true  Christian  faith  teaches  us  that  this 
is  the  workshop  where  God  makes  men,  and  the 
next  the  palace  where  He  shows  them.  All  here  is 
apprenticeship  and  training.     It  is  ot  no  more  value 


than  the  attitudes  into  which  gj'mnasts  throw  them- 
selves, but  as  a  discipline  most  precious.  The  end 
makes  the  means  important ;  and  if  we  believe  that 
God  is  preparing  us  for  immortal  life  with  Him  by 
all  our  work,  then  we  shall  do  it  with  a  will  ; 
otherwise  we  may  well  be  languid  as  we  go  on  for 
thirty  or  forty  years,  some  of  us  doing  the  same 
trivial  things,  and  getting  nothing  out  of  them  but 
food,  occupation  of  time,  and  a  mechanical  aptitude 
for  what  is  not  worth  doing. 

It  is  the  horizon  that  gives  dignity  to  the  fore- 
ground ;  a  picture  without  sky  has  no  glory.  This 
present,  unless  we  see  gleaming  beyond  it  the 
eternal  calm  of  the  heavens  above  the  tossing  tree- 
tops  with  withering  leaves,  and  the  smoky  chimneys, 
is  a  poor  thing  for  our  eyes  to  gaze  at,  or  our  hearts 
to  love,  or  our  hands  to  toil  on.  But  when  we  see 
that  all  paths  lead  to  heaven,  and  that  our  eternity 
is  affected  by  our  acts  in  time,  then  it  is  blessed  to 
gaze,  it  is  possible  to  love  the  earthly  shadows  of 
the  uncreated  beauty,  it  is  worth  while  to  work. 

— Maclaren. 

(3283.)  This  eternal  life  hangs  on  the  ^mall  thread 
of  the  present.  As  we  are  now,  so  shall  we  be  for 
ever.  Eternal  life  is  a  synonym  for  character. 
"The  child, '  it  is  said,  "is the  father  ot  the  man." 
This  has  a  more  solemn  and  awful — a  more  signifi- 
cant and  truthful  meaning  with  regard  to  a  world 
to  come.  The  childhood  of  time  will  determine  the 
manhood  of  eternity.  The  passing  moments  of  the 
present  will  colour  the  infinite  future.  Life  in  this 
world  is  the  cartoon — the  dim  shadowy  outline — 
which  will  be  tilled  up  and  embodied  in  the  life 
hereafter.  — Macduff. 

(3284.)  Men  are  seeking  for  only  this  life.  A 
short  life  it  is,  and  exceedingly  imperfect  and  rudi- 
mentary, at  best.  It  is  like  a  road,  which  is  good 
for  travelling,  but  poor  for  sleeping.  This  world  is 
magnificent  lor  strangers  and  pilgrims,  but  miserable 
for  residents.  The  very  moment  a  man  carries  him- 
self as  though  this  were  his  home,  and  begins  to 
build  as  though  he  would  live  here,  that  moment 
the  world  is  not  a  fit  place  for  a  temporary  residence 
for  him.  It  is  only  when  a  man  considers  this 
world  as  a  .school-house,  and  not  a  dwelling,  that 
it  will  serve  the  purpose  it  was  intended  to  serve. 
The  academy  is  not  a  place  to  live  in.  We  go  into 
it  that  in  due  time  we  may  come  out  prepared  for  a 
higher  sphere.  What  the  anvil  and  the  blacksmith's 
shop  are  to  the  sword  of  the  warrior,  that  this 
world  and  its  instrumentalities  are  to  us.  We  are 
forged  here  to  be  used  hereafter.  We  are  to  re- 
ceive our  perfect  selves,  and  to  come  to  the  fruition 
of  ourselves,  only  when  God  shall  open  the  door  of 
this  world,  arwi  let  us  out.  We  are  like  a  ship  that, 
being  built,  lies  high  and  dry,  and  whose  sea-going 
qualities  cannot  be  known  till  she  is  launched  upon 
the  ocean.  We  do  not  know  our  own  powers. 
When  at  death  we  are  launched  upon  the  sea  of 
eternal  life,  then  we  shall  know  what  we  are. 

— Beecher. 

(3285.)  A  man  who  makes  calculation  and  pro- 
vision lor  this  life  only,  is  like  the  sea  captain  who, 
starting  on  a  voyage  to  Europe,  lays  in  provision! 
sufficient  to  last  him  only  until  he  gets  safe  past  the 
lighthouse,  and  out  into  the  open  sea. 

— Beecher 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(    550    ) 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(3286.)  Man  is  a  creature  of  two  worlds.  In  this 
world  he  is  at  his  least  estate.  There  be  plants 
that  require  two  summers  to  grow  in.  They  make 
their  root  in  the  first  one.  They  make  their  blossom 
in  the  second.  And  no  man  can  wisely  treat  such 
a  plant  as  that,  who  treats  it  only  for  one  summer. 
The  hollyhock  is  a  familiar  instance.  If  you  plant 
the  seed  now,  no  amount  of  nourishment  shall 
drive  it  forward  to  blossom  before  the  frost  over- 
taJ<es  it.  You  have  leaves  the  first  season,  and 
that  is  all.  But  if  you  carry  it  through  the  winter, 
knowing  its  double  nature,  nourisliing  it  and  streng- 
thening it,  and  planting  it  again  in  the  coming 
spring,  you  shall  see  it  lift  up  its  gorgeous  spire, 
stately  and  glowing,  among  the  noblest  objects  of 
beauty  in  the  garden. 

Man  is  a  creature  that  grows  by  leaf  and  root  in 
this  life  only  ;  and  he  that  has  an  ideal  of  life  tliat 
encompasses  only  this  life,  lives  only  for  leaves.  No 
man  lives  for  blossoms  that  does  not  take  in  two 
lives,  and  that  has  not  in  his  ideal,  therefore,  not 
o.ily  the  elements  that  give  respectability  and  stand- 
ing here,  but  the  elements  that  give  dignity,  and 
power,  and  spiritual  purity  in  the  life  that  is  to 
come.  — Beecher. 

(3287.)  You  have  seen  the  tiny  blossom  of  the 
fruit-tree  opening  in  early  spring.  After  basking  a 
few  days  in  the  sun,  it  fades  and  falls.  A  germ  is 
left  iiehind  on  the  branch,  but  it  is  scarcely  dis- 
cernible among  the  leaves.  It  is  a  green  microscopic 
speck  that  can  scarcely  be  felt  between  your  fingers. 
If  a  hungry  man  should  pluck  and  eat  it,  the  morsel 
would  not  satisfy.  Although  he  dreams  of  eating, 
when  he  awakes  his  soul  is  empty.  The  germ,  as 
to  present  use,  is  a  sapless,  ta.'-teless  nothing. 
Grasped  now  as  an  object  and  end,  it  is  the  most 
worthless  of  all  things  ;  but  left  and  cherished  as 
the  germ  of  fruit,  it  is  most  precious.  According 
as  it  fades  or  thrives  will  the  iiusbandman  have  joy 
or  sorrow  in  the  harvest. 

This  life  is  the  bud  of  eternity ;  if  it  is  pluclced 
and  used  as  the  portion  of  a  soul,  that  soul  will  be 
empty  now,  and  empty  for  ever.  If  the  husband- 
man should  gather  all  the  germs  green,  while  they 
are  tiny,  tasteless  atoms  hidden  among  the  leaves, 
he  would  be  disappointed  at  the  time,  and  destitute 
at  last.  He  would  gather  worthless  things  in  spring, 
and  have  nothing  to  gather  in  harvest.  I'his  life, 
taken  and  used  as  the  portion  of  an  immortal  being, 
is  green  and  sour  and  hurtful.  If  you  pluck  it  at 
this  stage,  you  will  taste  no  real  sweetness  at  the 
time,  and  possess  no  ripened  store  at  last.  But 
while  the  present  world  thus  abused  is  worthless, 
rightly  used  it  is  beyond  all  price.  Here  is  generated, 
cherished,  ripened,  the  life  that  will  never  die. 

— Arnot. 

18.  Reviewed. 

(3288. )  In  the  years  that  are  past,  what  have  we 
done  for  God  ?  We  have  had  many,  daily,  in- 
numerable, opportunities  of  serving  Him,  sjieaking 
for  Him,  working  for  Him,  not  sparing  ourselves  for 
Him  who  spared  not  His  own  Son  for  us.  Yet, 
how  little  have  we  attempted  ;  and  how  much  less 
have  we  done  in  the  spirit  of  our  Saviour's  words. 
Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  My  Father's 
business  ?  In  the  golden  sheaves  of  harvests  the 
soil,  grateful  for  favours,  returns  to  the  husband- 
man all  'liat  it  gets ;  and  by  the  mouths  of  its  ten 
thousand  rivers  the  earth  gives  back  her  treasures 
to  the  sea — and  hence  the  sea  is  always  full.     But 


how  poor  the  return  we  have  mnde  to  God  !  There 
is  no  moor  in  our  country  so  barren  as  our  hearts. 
They  drink  up  God's  blessings  as  the  sands  of  the 
Sahara  heaven's  rain.  Nor  ij  it  but  here  and  there 
that  our  life  shows  any  green  spots  with  verdure  to 
refresh  the  eye,  and  call  for  the  grateful  acknow- 
ledgment of  the  apostle,  "By  grace  I  am  what  I 
am," — by  the  grace  of  God  I  have  done  what  I 
have  done  !  Alas,  how  few  are  the  days,  how  few 
the  deeds  of  the  past,  that  will  be  remembered 
with  any  comfort  on  a  death-bed  !  It  is  impossible 
even  now  to  review  our  lives  without  feeling  that 
there  is  no  hope  for  us  out  of  Christ  ;  and  that  the 
best  and  the  busiest  have  been  unprofitable  servants. 

— Guthrie. 

(3289.)  Our  Saviour's  whole  life,  which,  if  written 
fully  out,  John  says,  would  fill  so  many  volumes 
that  the  world  would  not  be  able  to  contain  them, 
is  told  in  this  one,  brief  sentence,  "  He  went  about 
doing  good."  In  this  work  He  lived  ;  for  this  end 
He  died.  This  drew  Him  down  from  the  skies; 
"doing  good"  was  "the  joy  set  before  Him,"  for 
which  He  wore  the  thorny  crown,  and  bore  His 
heavy  cross.  .'\nd  mark  this,  that  none  are  His 
but  those  that  are  baptized  with  this  baptism  ; — 
not  you,  "  unless  the  same  mind  is  in  you  that  was 
in  Jesus  Christ." 

Suppose,  then,  that  our  blessed  Lord,  sitting 
down  on  Olivet  to  review  the  years  of  His  busy 
life,  had  looked  on  all  the  works  which  His  hands 
had  wrought, — what  a  crowd,  a  long  procession 
of  miracles  and  mercies  had  passed  before  Him  I 
How  many  sinners  warned  f  how  many  mourners 
comforted  !  how  many  friends  and  neighbours 
counselled  !  how  many  griefs  healed  !  how  many 
sufferers  relieved  !  what  busy  days,  what  blessed 
hours !  His  presence  carrying  sunbeams  into 
darkened  homes  !  mercies  springing  up  like  flowers 
all  along  His  path  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave! 
Witli  what  truth  and  beauty  might  He  haveajjplied 
to  Himself  the  words  of  the  patriarch  :  "  VVhen 
the  ear  heard  me,  then  it  blessed  me ;  and  when 
the  eye  saw  me,  it  gave  witness  of  me  ;  because  I 
delivered  the  poor  that  cried,  the  fatherless,  and 
him  that  had  none  to  help  him.  The  blessing  of 
him  that  was  ready  to  perish  came  upon  me  :  and 
I  caused  the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy."  True 
of  Job,  how  much  more  true  are  these  words  of  the 
life  of  Jesus  !  He  came  in  the  form  of  a  servant ; 
and  living,  not  to  Himself,  it  was  His  meat  and 
drink  to  do  His  Father's  will.  In  that,  He  haih 
set  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow  His  steps. 
And  such  an  example  !  I  believe  there  were  more 
good  works  crowded  into  one  single  day  of  Christ's 
life,  than  you  will  find  spread  over  the  lile-long 
history  of  any  Christian. 

Trying  our  piety  by  this  test,  what  testimony 
does  our  past  life  bear  to  its  charactei  ?  Ages  ago, 
two  strangers  belonging  to  other  spheres  aliglued 
on  our  world  ;  and  both  have  left  their  footprints 
behind  them.  The  poles  are  not  so  wide  asunder 
as  were  their  purposes.  Rising  on  the  smoke  o£ 
the  pit,  Satan  came  from  hell  to  ruin  it :  descend- 
ing with  a  train  of  angels  from  the  skies,  Jesus  c?.me 
from  heaven  to  save  it.  Each  had  his  mission ; 
and  each  performed  it.  We  also  have  ours  ;  and 
looking  to  the  manner  in  which  we  have  passed  our 
lives,  to  which  of  the  two  do  we  bear  the  greatest 
resemblance?  'What  have  we  been  doing,  what 
have  we  done  in  years  gone  by  !     Creeping  like  a 


LIFE.     HUMAN 


(     SSI     ) 


LORD'S  Sl'PPER.     THE 


•erpent  into  some  happy  Eden,  have  we  tempted 
otheis  to  their  fall?  or,  Christ-like,  have  we  sought 
to  raise  the  fallen  ?  The  tree  is  known  by  its 
fruits.  Judge  ye.  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  you  if, 
tempting  others  to  sin,  you  have  played  the  devil's 
part  I  Happy  those  who,  at  however  great  a 
distance,  and  in  however  imperfect  a  manner,  have 
attempted  to"  follow  Christ  I  "  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant,"  shall  reward  the  pains,  and 
crown  the  prayers,  that  sought  to  raise  the  fallen 
and  save  the  lost.  — Ciithrie. 

(3290.)  "What  a  mercy  for  me  that  I  have 
lasted  so  long,"  said  the  Old  Quill  Pen  on  the 
shelf,  to  itself.  *'  I  have  lasted  as  long  as  any 
working  Quill  might  reasonably  expect  wiih  daily 
writing,  and  all  the  cutting,  paring,  and  nibbing 
to  which  Pens  are  commonly  subjected.  Those 
attacks  of  the  Knife,  of  course,  served  to  shorten  my 
existence,  but  no  doubt  improved  me  when  I 
needed  mending.  So,  it  seems  that  those  who 
used  me,  also  took  an  interest  in  my  well-being  and 
work.  I  am  only  a  poor  Old  Stump  now  !  but 
though  laid  aside,  let  me  humbly  hope  that  my 
writings  have  done  some  good  ;  which,  of  course, 
was  the  object  intended  when  I  was  first  made  into 
a  Pen,  and  is  a  comfort  to  my  thoughts  now  that  I 
can  write  no  longer."  — Bowden, 

19.  The  after  revelation  of  Its  results. 

(3291.)  All  development  of  the  soul  toward 
character  takes  place  little  by  little.  To-day  in  one 
direction,  to-morrow  in  another ;  to-day  by  one 
instrumrntality,  to-morrow  by  another;  and  what 
the  whole  of  these  accumulating  jjarts  and  results  is 
to  be  doth  not  yet  appear.  It  is  an  invisible  pro- 
cess. It  is  a  growth  by  parts  toward  a  whole  ;  but 
a  growth  which  to  the  end  of  this  life  will  still 
remain  fragmentary. 

Look  upon  some  building  in  process  of  construc- 
tion. All  round  about  it  are  stones  disconnected. 
The  arciiitect  knows  for  what  they  were  cut,  but 
you  do  not.  Whether  it  is  cornice  or  window-cap, 
whether  it  is  top  of  this  column  or  of  that,  you  do 
not  know.  Vast  timbers,  in  the  framer's  nund 
fitted  for  their  places,  and  brought  together  here, 
give  to  your  eye  no  indication  of  their  function  or 
their  position.  They  lie  around  in  their  several 
heaps.  As  the  workmen  iioist  them  to  their  places, 
some  order  seems  to  begin.  Yet  it  doth  not  appear 
what  the  whole  is  to  be  ;  nor  will  the  beauty  and 
fairness  of  the  whole  appear  until  it  is  completed. 
And  what  a  building  is  whose  materials  are  gathered 
and  gathering  ready  for  construction,  that  is  man 
in  this  world — a  creature  whose  parts  are  yet  under 
the  hanmier.  This  virtue,  that  grace  ;  this  self- 
denial,  that  restriction  ;  this  courage,  that  patience  ; 
this  faith,  that  love  ;  this  sentiment,  that  affection 
— all  these  varied  elements,  touched  now  by  one 
instrument,  and  now  by  another,  form,  little  by 
little,  but  never  shaped  into  a  whole  in  this  world, 
that  structure  which  is  to  rise  into  peifectness  in 
the  other  life.  — Beeclur. 

(3292.)  If  you  go  into  the  great  manufactories  at 
Lowell  and  Lawrence,  that  wliich  you  see  is  that 
which  you  never  see  elsewhere ;  and  that  which 
you  see  elsewhere  is  what  you  almost  never  see 
there.  You  see  there,  not  colours,  but  dirty  dye- 
vats  ;    wool    rather  than  thread,  or    thread    rather 


than  fiibrics.  Instead  of  seeing  rolls  of  finished 
carpeting  or  cloth,  you  hear  the  rattling  of  looms, 
spinning-jennies,  and  other  machinery.  These 
things,  which  absorb  your  attention,  you  leave 
behind  you,  when  you  go  out ;  whereas  it  is  in 
New  York,  in  London,  in  the  great  commercial 
mart,  that  you  see  the  fabric  which  is  produced  by 
them. 

Now,  this  world  is  a  great  rattling  manufactory, 
and  all  these  physical  things  are  but  the  stationaiy 
engines  and  looms.  These  are  the  things  that  men 
never  carry  with  them  from  this  world.  And  yet, 
how  important  they  are  !  Our  life,  as  it  were,  is 
placed  in  a  loom,  and  woven  by  these  things.  It 
rolls  up,  and  is  hidden  as  fast  as  it  is  woven  ;  and 
it  is  to  be  taken  out  of  the  loom  only  when  we 
leave  this  world.  We  shall  see  the  pattern  of  it 
only  when  we  abandon  the  things  which  act  upon 
us  here.  — Beecher. 

(3293.)  Every  thought  and  feeling  is  a  painting 
stroke,  in  the  darkness,  of  our  likeness  that  is  to 
be  ;  and  our  whole  life  is  but  a  chamber,  which 
we  are  frescoing  with  colours  that  do  not  appear 
while  being  laid  on  wet,  but  which  will  shine  forth 
afterwards,  when  finished  and  dry. 

Like  those  airy  spiites  in  fairy  tales  who  rear  the 
building  through  the  night,  unseen  in  the  process, 
but  clear  and  distinct  in  the  morning's  completion, 
so  years,  and  hours,  and  moments  are  silently  rear- 
ing, in  this  world's  darkness,  a  soul-structure  whose 
proportions  the  sunlight  of  eternity  shall  reveal. 

— Bcccher. 


LORD'S  SUPPER.     THE 
1.  Variously  estimated  by  Christian  mea. 

(3294.)  All  men  speak  honourable  things  of  the 
sacrament,  except  wicked  persons  and  the  scorners 
of  religion  ;  and  though  of  several  persons,  like  the 
beholders  of  a  dove  walking  in  the  sun,  as  they 
stand  in  several  aspects  and  distances,  some  see  red 
and  others  purple,  and  yet  some  perceive  nothing 
but  green,  but  all  allow  and  love  the  beauties  ;  so 
do  the  several  forms  of  Christians,  according  as 
they  are  instructed  by  their  first  teachers,  or  their 
own  experience,  conducted  by  their  fancy,  and 
proper  principle,  look  upon  these  glorious  m)s- 
steries,  some  as  virtually  containing  the  reward  of 
obedience  ;  some  as  soleumities  of  thanksgiving, 
and  records  of  blessings  ;  some  as  the  objective  in- 
crease of  faith  ;  others  as  the  sacramental  participa- 
tions of  Christ  ;  others  as  the  acts  and  instruments 
of  natural  union  ;  yet  all  affirm  some  great  things  or 
other  of  it,  and  by  their  differences  confess  the  im- 
mensity and  the  glory.  For  thus  manna  represented 
to  every  man  the  taste  that  himself  did  like  ;  but  it 
had  in  its  own  potentiality  all  those  tastes  and  dis- 
positions eminently  and  altogether  ;  it  could  speak 
of  great  and  many  excellences,  and  all  confessed 
it  to  be  enough,  and  to  be  the  food  of  angels  ; 
so  it  is  here,  it  is  that  to  every  man's  faith,  which 
his  faith  wisely  apprehends  ;  and  though  there  are 
some  of  little  iaith,  and  such  receive  but  a  le>s  pro- 
portion of  nourishment,  yet  by  the  very  use  of  this 
sacrament,  the  appetite  will  increase,  and  the  ap- 
prehensions grow  greater,  and  the  faith  will  be 
mar«-  ronfident  and  instructed  ;  and  then  we  shaU 
see  more  and  feel  more.  — Sailer. 


LORD'S  SUPPER.     THE 


(    552    ) 


LORD'S  SUPPER      THE 


2.  Its  design. 

(3295-)  Christ  has  not  instituted  this  sacrament 
for  a  fashion  in  His  Cliurch,  to  touch,  and  feel,  and 
see,  as  we  gaze  upon  ]3ictures  in  tlie  windows.  But 
as  the  woman  who  had  the  bk)Oily  issue,  touching 
the  hem  of  Christ's  garment,  drew  virtue  from 
Christ  Himself,  l)ecause  she  believed  ;  so  Christ 
would  that  we,  touching  these  signs,  should  draw 
virtue  from  Himself,  that  is,  all  the  graces  which 
/liese  signs  represent. 

— Henry  Smith,  1560-1591. 

(3296.)  The  Lord's  Supper  is  memorative,  and  so 
it  has  the  nature  and  use  of  a  pledge  or  token  of 
love,  left  by  a  dying  to  a  dear  surviving  friend.  It  is 
like  a  ring  plucked  off  from  Christ's  finijer,  or  a 
bracelet  from  His  arm,  or  rather  His  picture  from 
His  breast,  delivered  to  us  with  such  words  as 
these  :  "As  oft  as  you  look  on  this,  remember  Me; 
let  this  help  to  keep  Me  alive  in  your  remembrance 
when  I  am  gone,  and  out  of  sight. 

— Flavel,  1627-1691. 

(3297.)  The  Lord's  Supper  is  not  designed  or 
adapted  to  be  a  converting  ordinance.  A  man  sits 
down  at  the  table  of  communion.  What  is  the  de- 
sign of  it  ?  Is  it  that  he  may  be  converted  ?  Was 
]udas  converted  at  that  table?  This  is  not  its  de- 
sign. It  is  solely  to  commemorate  what  Christ  has 
done,  and  to  bring  impressively  before  the  mind  the 
great  events  of  His  death.  "  Do  this  in  remem- 
brance of  Me,"  is  the  command,  and  this  implies 
that  there  is  already  such  an  attachment  to  Him  as 
to  make  such  a  commemoration  proper.  Do  we 
institute  memorials  for  the  purpose  of  creating  an 
attachment  to  those  whom  we  iles])ise,  or  hate?  Is 
not  the  very  object  of  a  men":ento  to  recall  the 
image  of  one  whom  we  love  ;  to  deepen  attachment, 
to  bind  us  more  strongly  to  him  or  to  his 
memory  ?  The  ring  which  we  wear  on  the  finger, 
or  the  hair  of  a  friend  that  we  preserve  in  a  locket, 
is  not  to  create  love  for  that  friend,  but  it  is  to 
bring  it  to  remembrance  and  to  perpetuate  it. 

— Barnes,  179S-1S70. 

3.  Its  symbolism. 

(3298.)  Now,  if  you  ask  me  why  Christ  called 
the  sign  by  the  name  of  the  thing  itself?  I  ask 
thee  again,  Mayest  thou  say,  when  thou  seest  the 
picture  of  the  Queen,  "This  is  the  Queen?"  or 
when  thou  seest  the  picture  of  a  lion,  "Tins  is  a 
lion?''  And  may  not  Christ  say  when  He  sees  a 
thing  like  His  body,  "This  is  my  body?"  .  .  . 
The  reason  why  the  signs  have  the  names  of  the 
things  is  to  strike  a  deep  reverence  in  us  to  receive 
this  sacrament  of  Christ  reverently  and  holily,  as  if 
that  Christ  were  there  present  in  body  and  blood 
Himself.  — Henry  Smith,  1560-1591. 

(3299.)  What,  then,  is  there  nothing  in  the  sacra- 
ment but  bread  and  wine,  like  a  hungry  nunchion? 
Nay,  we  say  not  that  the  sacrament  is  nothing  but  a 
base  sign,  or  that  you  receive  nothing  no  more  than 
you  see.  For  Christ  sailh  that  ii  is  His  body. 
And  Paul  says  that  it  is  the  communion  of  Christ's 
body  and  blood.  Therefore  there  is  more  in  sacra- 
mental bread  than  in  common  bread.  Though  the 
nature  is  not  changed,  the  use  is  changed.  It  does 
not  only  nourish  the  body  as  it  did  before,  but  also 
it  brings  a  bread  with  which  it  nourishes  the  suui. 
For  as  sure  as  we  receive  bread,  so  sure  we  receive 
Christ ;  not  only  the  benefits  of  Christ,  but  Christ, 


although  not  in  a  Popish  manner.  Yet  we  are  so 
formed  and  united  unto  Him,  even  as  though  we 
were  but  one  body  with  Him. 

As  the  spouse  does  not  marry  with  the  lands  and 
goods,  but  with  the  man  himself,  and  being  par- 
taken of  him,  is  made  partaken  of  them  ;  so  the 
faithful  do  not  only  marry  with  Chjist's  benefits, 
but  with  Christ  Himself;  and  being  made  partakers 
of  Him,  they  are  made  partakers  of  His  benefits. 
For  Christ  may  not  in  any  wise  be  divided  from 
His  benefits,  no  more  than  the  sun  from  its  light. 

It  is  said,  the  Father  gave  us  His  Son  (Rom. 
viii.  32),  and  so  the  Son  gives  us  Himself.  For  as 
the  bread  is  a  sign  of  His  body,  so  the  giving  of  the 
bread  is  a  sign  of  the  giving  of  His  body.  Thus 
He  lies  before  us  like  a  pelican,  which  letteth  her 
young  ones  suck  her  blood,  so  that  we  may  say,  the 
Lord  invited  us  to  supper,  and  He  Himself  was  oui 
meat. 

But  if  you  ask,  "  How  is  this?"  I  must  answer, 
"  It  is  a  mystery."  But  if  I  could  tell  it,  it  would 
be  no  mystery.  Yet,  as  it  is  said,  when  three  men 
walked  in  the  midst  of  the  furnace,  "One  like  unto 
the  Son  of  God  walked  amongst  them  '  (Dan.  iii. 
25),  so,  when  the  faithful  receive  the  bread  and 
wine.  One  like  unto  the  Son  of  God  seems  to  come 
unto  them,  which  fills  them  with  peace,  and  joy, 
and  grace,  that  they  marvel  what  it  was  that  they 
received  besides  bread  and  wine. 

For  example,  thou  niakest  a  bargain  with  thy 
neighbour  for  house  or  land,  and  receivest  in  earnest 
a  piece  of  gold.  That  which  thou  receivest  is  but  a 
piece  of  gold  ;  but  now  it  is  a  sign  of  thy  bargain, 
and  if  thou  keep  not  touch  with  him,  haply  it  will 
clasp  thee  for  all  that  thou  art  worth.  So,  that 
which  thou  receivest  is  bread,  but  this  bread  is  a 
sign  of  another  matter,  which  passeth  bread. 

Htnry  Smith,  1560-1591. 

(3300.)  For  the  signs  to  be  turned  into  the  thing 
signified,  is  utterly  against  the  nature  of  a  sacra- 
ment, and  makes  it  no  .sacrament,  for  there  is  no 
sign.  For  every  sacrament  doth  consist  of  a  sign, 
and  a  thing  signified.  The  sign  is  ever  an 
earthly  thing,  and  that  which  is  signified  is  a 
heavenly  thing.  This  shall  appear  in  all  examples  : 
as,  in  Paradise  there  was  a  very  tree  for  the  sign, 
and  Christ  the  tiling  signified  by  it.  In  Circumci- 
sion there  was  a  cutting  off  of  the  skin,  and  the 
cutting  ofT  of  sin.  In  the  Passover  there  was  a  lamb, 
and  Christ.  In  the  Sabbath  there  was  a  day  of  rest, 
and  eternal  rest.  In  the  Sacrifices  there  was  an 
offering  of  some  beasts,  and  the  offering  of  Christ. 
In  the  Sanctuary  there  was  the  holy  place,  and 
heaven.  In  the  Propitiatory  there  was  the  golden 
covering,  and  Christ  our  cover.  In  the  Wilderness 
there  was  a  rock  yielding  water,  and  Christ  yielding 
His  blood.  In  the  Apparition  there  was  a  dove, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost.  In  the  Manna  there  was 
bread,  and  Christ.  In  Baptism  there  is  very  water 
which  washes  us,  and  Christ's  blood  washing  us. 
So  in  the  Supper  of  Christ  there  is  very  bread  and 
wine  for  the  sign,  and  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ 
for  the  thing  signified,  or  else  this  sacrament  is 
against  the  nature  of  all  other  sacraments. 

— Henry  Smith,  1560-1591. 

(3301.)  Like  as,  when  a  nobleman  delivereth  a 
letter  of  annuity  to  any  one  of  his  servants  he  saith 
he  giveth  him  an  annuity  often  pounds,  no  man  is  so 
simple  to  think  that  the  letter  is  the  money  it.self, 


LORD'S  SUPPER,     THE  (     553    ) 


LORD'S  SUPPER.     THE 


bnt  an  assurance,  sign,  or  gage,  of  such  a  sum  of 
money,  in  such  sort  that,  having  such  a  letter,  he  is 
fully  assured  of  the  money.  Every  man  dotli  well 
know  that  the  signs  have  the  names  of  the  things 
•which  they  signify  ;  after  this  manner  of  speech, 
also,  an  ambassador  of  a  prince,  being  demanded  of 
tlie  authority  he  hath  received  of  his  lord  to  deal  in 
such  or  such  a  matter,  is  wont  to  show  forth  his 
letters  of  commission,  and  to  say,  "  Here  is  my 
authority,"  albeit  that  the  letters  are  not  the  power 
itself,  but  only  the  testimony  of  the  same  :  even  so 
the  liread  and  the  wine  arc  the  remission  of  sins,  or 
the  body  and  blood  of  Christ — to  wit,  they  are  as 
seals  and  letters,  whereby  we  are  assured  that  the 
body  of  Jesus  Christ  crucified,  and  His  V>lnod  shed, 
have  purchased  unto  us  the  forgiveness  of  sins  and 
eternal  life.  — Caivdray,  1609. 

(3302.)  Nothing  is  more  common  in  all  languag""; 
than  to  give  the  name  of  the  thing  signified  to  the 
sign  :  as  the  delivery  of  a  deed  or  writing  under 
hand  and  seal  is  called  a  conveyance,  or  making 
over  such  an  estate,  and  it  is  really  so  ;  not  the 
delivery  of  mere  wax  and  parchment,  but  the  con- 
veyance of  a  real  estate,  as  truly  and  really,  to  all 
eftects  and  purposes  of  law,  as  if  the  very  material 
houses  and  lands  themselves  could  be  and  were 
actually  delivered  into  my  hands  :  in  like  manner 
the  names  of  things  themselves  made  over  to  us  in 
the  new  covenant  of  the  gospel  between  God  and 
man,  are  given  to  be  signs  or  seals  of  that  covenant. 
—  7  'Hlotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

(3303.)  In  the  sacrament  of  the  body  and  blood 
of  Christ  we  are  called  to  a  familiar  converse  with 
God  :  He  there  appeareth  to  us  by  a  wonderful  con- 
descension in  the  representing  communicating  signs 
of  the  flesh  and  blood  of  His  Son,  in  which  He  h;uh 
most  conspicuously  revealed  His  love  and  goodness 
to  believers  :  there  Christ  Himself  with  His  cove- 
nant-gilts are  all  delivered  to  us  by  these  investing 
signs  of  His  own  institution  ;  even  as  knighthood  is 
given  by  a  sword,  and  as  a  house  is  delivered  by  a 
key,  or  land  by  a  twig  and  turf.  Nowhere  is  God 
so  near  to  man  as  in  Jesus  Christ  :  and  nowhere  is 
Christ  so  familiarly  represented  to  us  as  in  this  holy 
sacrament.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

4.  In  what  sense  the  elements  are  sacred. 

(3304.)  An  instrument  or  conveyance  of  lands 
from  one  party  to  another,  being  lairly  engrossed 
on  parchment,  with  wax  fastened  unto  it,  is  no 
more  than  ordinary  parchment  and  wax  :  but  when 
it  conies  once  to  be  sealed  and  delivered  to  the  use 
of  the  party  concerned,  then  it  is  changed  into 
another  quality,  and  made  a  matter  of  high  concern- 
ment. Thus,  the  elements  of  bread  and  wine  are 
the  same  in  substance  with  the  other  bread  and 
wine,  before  and  after  the  administration  is  past : 
the  same  in  quality — the  bread  dry,  the  wine  moist  : 
the  same  in  naiure— the  bread  to  support,  the  wine 
to  comfort  the  heart  of  man  :  but  -being  once 
separated  (not  by  any  spells  or  signing  with  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  not  by  any  Popish,  carnal,  sensual 
transubstantiation,  nor  any  Lutheran  consubstantia- 
tion)  from  a  common  to  a  holy  use,  when  Christ's 
name  is  set  on  them  in  regard  of  institution,  con- 
secration, operation,  and  blessing  attending  on 
them,  then  they  become  Christ's  bread  and  God's 
wine,  and  the  tables  God's  tables  too — not  the 
bread  of  the  buttery,  but  of  the  Sanctuary  ;  not  the 


wine  of  the  grape,  but  of  the  Vine  Chri.t  Jesus, 
sealing  unto  us  the  pardon  and  remission  of  our 
sins  :  so  that  in  the  right  receiving  thereof  we  nmst 
make  it  a  work,  not  cicnlis,  biu  meutts — not  so  much 
to  look  on  the  elements  what  they  are,  but  what 
they  signify  ;  look  through  the  bush  and  see  God, 
through  the  Sacrament  and  see  Christ  Jesus,  to 
our  comfort.  — Edlin,  1652. 

6.  The  benefits  of  a  believing  reception  of  it. 

(3305.)  As  a  sick  man  feels  no  comfort  or 
nourishment  when  he  eateth  meat,  and  yet  it  pre- 
servetli  his  life  :  so  the  weak  Christian,  though  he 
feel  himself  not  nourished  at  the  Sacrament  by 
Christ's  body  and  blood,  yet  he  shall  see  in  time 
that  his  soul  shall  be  preserved  thereby  unto  ever- 
lasting life. 

As  a  man,  looking  steadfastly  on  a  dial,  cannot 
perceive  the  shadow  move  at  all,  yet,  viewing  it 
after  a  while,  he  shall  perceive  that  it  hath  moved  : 
so,  in  hearing  of  the  '\Vord,  but  especially  in  the 
receiving  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  a  man  may  judge 
even  his  own  faith,  and  other  graces  of  God,  to  be 
little  or  nothing  increased,  neither  can  he  perceive 
the  motion  of  God's  Spirit  in  him  at  that  present, 
vet  by  the  fruits  and  effects  thereof,  he  shall  after- 
ward perceive  that  God's  Spirit  hath  by  little  and 
little  v/rought  greater  faith  and  other  graces  in  him. 
—  Cawdray,  1609. 

(3306.)  The  covenant  of  grace,  founded  upon  this 
covenant  of  redemption,  is  sealed  in  the  sacrament ; 
God  owns  His  standing  to  the  terms  of  it  ;  as  the 
right  of  a  house  is  made  over  by  the  delivery  of  the 
key,  and  the  right  of  land  translated  by  the  delivery 
of  a  turf;  whereby  He  gives  us  assurance  of  His 
reality,  and  a  strong  support  to  our  confidence  in 
Him.  Not  that  there  is  any  virtue  and  power  of 
sealing  in  the  elements  themselves,  no  more  thnn 
there  is  in  a  turf  to  give  an  in  feoffment  in  a  parcel 
of  land  ;  but  as  the  power  of  the  one  is  derived 
from  the  order  of  the  law,  so  the  confirming  power 
of  the  sacrament  is  derived  from  the  institution  of 
God  ;  as  the  oil  wherewith  kings  were  anointed  did 
not  of  itself  confer  upon  them  that  royal  dignity, 
but  it  was  a  sign  of  the  investure  into  office,  ordered 
by  divine  institution.  We  can  with  no  reason 
imagine  that  God  intended  them  as  naked  signs  or 
pictures,  to  please  our  eyes  with  the  image  of  them, 
to  represent  their  own  figure  to  our  eyes,  but  to 
confirm  something  to  our  understanding  by  the 
efficacy  of  the  Spirit  accompanying  them.  They 
convey  to  the  believing  receiver  what  they  represent, 
as  the  great  seal  of  a  prince,  fixed  to  the  parch- 
ment, does  the  pardon  of  the  rebel,  as  well  as  its 
own  figure.  Christ's  death,  and  the  grace  of  the 
covenant,  is  not  only  signified,  but  the  fruits  and 
merit  of  that  death  communicated  also. 

— Charnock,  1 628-1680. 

(3307.)  Two  friends,  intimately  united,  lose  sight, 
in  some  sense,  of  the  difference  which  there  may  be 
between  their  respective  conditions.  This,  too,  is 
what  the  believer  experiences  at  the  Lord's  table. 
On  the  one  part,  though  there  must  ever  be  an 
immeasurable  abyss  between  God  and  us,  we  go  to 
Him  as  to  our  brother,  as  to  our  friend.  .  .  .  And 
on  the  other  part,  God  is  pleased  to  lay  aside,  in 
condescension  to  our  weakness,  if  the  expression  be 
lawful,  the  rays  of  His  divine  majesty,  with  which 
the  eyes  of  mortals  would  be  dazzled  into  blindness 

-"Saurin. 


LORD 'S  SUPPER.     THE 


(    554    ) 


LORD'S  SUPPER.     THE 


(3308.)  Tt  was  very  tenderly  considerate  in  the 
Lord  to  leave  sometliing  visible  and  tangible  where- 
by to  lift  us  up  to  the  Invisible.  Just  as  in  prayer, 
while  the  shui  door,  the  bowed  knees,  the  articulate 
words  as  towards  God,  have  no  efficacy,  but  neverthe- 
less are  a  help  to  us  ;  so  the  Lord's  supper  is  a  help 
at  once  to  our  faith  and  brotherhood.  It  draws  us 
nearer  to  one  another — it  aids  us  to  think  what 
heaven  is,  where  we  shall  "sit  down  with  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob."  — Grosart. 

0.  Not  to  be  neglected. 

(3309.)  If  it  be  a  token  of  divine  goodness  to 
a]. point  it,  it  is  no  sign  of  our  estimation  of  divine 
goodness  to  neglect  it.  He  that  values  the  kindness 
of  his  friend  will  accept  of  Ids  invitation,  if  there  be 
not  some  strong  impediments  in  the  way,  or  so 
much  familiarity  with  him,  that  his  refusal  upon  a 
light  occasion  would  not  be  unkindly  taken.  But 
though  God  put  on  the  disposiiion  of  a  friend  to  us. 
yet  lie  loses  not  the  authority  of  a  sovereign  ;  and 
the  humble  familiarity  He  invites  us  to,  does  not 
diminish  the  condition  and  duty  of  a  subject.  A 
sovereign  prince  would  not  take  it  well,  if  a  favourite 
should  refuse  the  offered  honour  of  his  table.  The 
viands  of  God  are  not  to  be  slighted. 

—  Lharnock^  1 628-1680. 

(3310.)  He  has  left  us  this  daik  glass,  wherein 
we  may  see  His  face  till  He  return  with  a  full 
glory  ;  and  is  it  an  affection  to  Him  never  to  lot)k 
ujion  Ili>  picture,  the  medal  of  Himself,  wherein 
He  has  engraven  the  tracks  of  His  dying  love;  all 
that  He  did,  all  that  He  purchaseil,  all  His  fulness, 
all  His  treasures,  wherein  we  may  behold  tlim  as  a 
Redeemer  pouiing  out  His  blood  lor  us,  as  a 
Sanciitier  pouring  His  blood  into  us,  as  a  Bene- 
factor opening  His  enriching  treasures  to  us,  as  a 
Supplier  providing  for  all  our  wants  ?  How  can  we 
say  we  love  Him  if  we  do  not  mind  Him?  What 
value  have  we  for  Him,  if  He  be  not  in  our 
thoughts? 

Well,  but  we  may  remember  Christ  other  ways 
without  this  ceremony  ?  We  may,  but  do  we  ? 
Do  you  frequently  ponder  upon  Him?  are  your 
thoughts  of  Him  edged  with  choice  and  ravishing 
affections  to  Him?  does  not  the  body  of  death 
hinder  you  from  thinking  of  the  Lord  of  Life  ?  But 
suppose  you  are  not  one  minute  forgetful  of  His 
love,  does  it  consist  with  your  professed  affection 
to  Him  to  choose  your  own  ways  of  remembering 
Him,  and  neglect  His?  Suppose  we  had  a  friend 
who  had  redeemed  us  from  the  galleys,  restored  us 
from  servitude,  redeemed  our  lives,  installed  us  in  a 
large  inheritance,  and  was  to  take  a  long  journey, 
promising  to  return  again,  leaving  with  us  his 
picture,  which  he  would  have  us  look  upon  at 
some  special  seasons,  and  express  in  that  method  a 
particular  mindfulness  of  him.  Though  we  could 
not  without  an  excusalile  ingratitude  forget  him 
had  we  not  that  picture,  yet  it  were  but  an  un- 
worthy return  to  deny  the  observance  of  so  small 
an  order  to  a  friend  to  whom  we  owe  ourselves. 
This  is  all  the  picture  Christ  has  left  of  Himself; 
He  never  ajipointed  any  images  or  crucifixes,  never 
imprinted  the  leatures  of  11  is  face  upon  Veronica's 
napkin.  Is  it  not  ingratitude  to  neglect  the  remem- 
brance of  Him  in  His  own  method,  when  He  might 
have  put  hard  conditions  upon  us  ;  and  when  it  is 
not  a  mere  sight  of  Him,  but  a  spiritual  feast  with 
Him,  wherem  we  may  suck  of  His  very  blood  into 


the  veins  of  our  souls,   as  well   as  the  wine  into 
those  of  our  bodies?         — Chantock,  1628-1680, 

(331 1.)  It  is  undeniable  that  as  sacraments  are 
"generally  necessary  to  salvation,"  whoever  con- 
tinues to  live  in  the  wilful  neglect  of  the  Lord's 
supper  is  under  condemnation.  He  cannot  te 
Christ's  disciple,  for  he  denies  Him  in  the  world. 
He  presumptuously  breaks  one  of  God's  command- 
ments, and  is  therefore  guilty  as  a  transgressor  of 
the  whole  law.  But  it  is  not  merely  the  bare  re- 
fusal of  this  sacrament,  but  the  secret  disposition 
and  state  of  heart  which  such  a  neglect  discovers — 
and  of  which  it  is  the  infallible  mark,  which  proves 
his  pretension  to  religion  to  be  vain.  Take  the 
case  of  a  man  in  whom  the  process  of  inward  morti- 
fication is  going  on.  This  is  not  visible,  and  is 
altogether  hid  from  general  observation.  But  the 
black  and  livid  spots  on  the  limb  distinctly  mark 
the  fatal  disorder  within.  The  patient's  attention 
is  confined  to  the  part  which  is  affected,  and  he 
little  dreams  of  its  connection  with  the  work  of 
death  which  is  going  forwards.  But  to  the  ex- 
perienced eye  the  fatal  process  is  fully  disclosed  by 
that  little  spot  of  livid  flesh.  It  would  not  be  there 
if  mortification  was  not  present.  To  the  continued 
and  resolute  refusal  to  sup  with  Christ,  though  to 
the  party  himself,  and  to  others,  it  may  appear  a 
venial  matter,  and  to  be  accounted  only  as  the  ne- 
glect oi  one  of  the  ordinances  of  the  Church,  yet,  in 
tlie  judgment  of  all  who  are  taught  of  God,  it  is 
indicative  of  a  fatally  disordered  state  of  the  heart — ■ 
it  marks  the  universal  indisposition  to  assume  that 
sacred  badge  of  discipleship  and  separation  from  the 
world.  It  proves  the  disaffection  and  disloyalty  to 
Christ's  government  and  institutions  which  reigns 
within,  and  that  something  is  loved  and  cherisiied 
as  better  than  obedience  and  love  to  the  Saviour. 
For  in  the  case  under  consideration,  it  is  no  other 
than  an  indisposition  to  commit  ourselves  by  giving 
a  pledge  that  we  design  that  high  and  holy  walk  in 
liie  which  belongs  to  Christ's  disciples.  We  would 
not  come  under  such  a  yoke.  And  just  as  there 
would  be  no  living  marks  in  the  case  supposed, 
where  there  was  no  mortification — so  there  would 
be  no  wilful  refusal  of  the  holy  supper,  were  the 
disposition  of  our  heart  in  a  sound  and  healthy  state. 
In  both  of  these  cases  the  process  of  death  is  going 
forwards.  — Halter. 

7.  Who  are  to  partake  of  It. 

(3312.)  This  sacrament  is  a  sacrament  of  nourish- 
ment, unrenewed  men  therefore  are  not  fit  for  it. 
They  are  dead  (Eph.  ii.  i)  ;  and  what  has  a  dead 
man  to  do  with  a  feast  ?  Men  must  be  alive  before 
they  be  nourished.  It  is  eat,  drink.  The  princi- 
pal intent  is  not  to  eat  corporeally,  but  spiritually  ; 
words  not  to  be  spoken  to  a  dead  man.  Meat  and 
drink  may  be  put  into  a  dead  man's  mouth,  but  he 
can  swallow  down  neither  one  nor  other  in  a  vital 
v\ay,  nor  concoct  either  of  them.  He  that  wants 
the  life  of  grace  can  make  no  use  of  the  nourish- 
ment of  grace  ;  so  that  the  sacrament  is  at  best  but 
a  vain  thing  to  such.  But  besides,  the  very  end  of 
the  sacrament  is  perverted,  when  the  richest  viands 
are  taken  by  a  man  spiritually  dead  ;  as  the  end  of 
bread,  which  is  to  nourish  the  body,  is  perverted, 
and  the  creature  abused  by  being  used  contrary  to 
the  end  of  it,  when  it  is  put  into  the  month  of  a  dead 
man  to  whom  it  can  be  no  advantage.  The  body 
01  Christ  conveys  strength  and  growth  to  His  own 


LORD'S  SUPPER.     THE 


(    555    ) 


LORD  S  SUPPER.     THE 


members  onlj' ;    to    living    members,   not  to  dead. 
Dead  branches  receive  no  sap  from  tlie  vine. 

— Char  nock,   1628-1680. 

(3313.)  The  sacrament  is  appointed  for  nourish- 
ment, and  thai  supposes  life.  A  sacrament  does 
not  suppose  tlie  effect  which  it  was  instituted  to 
produce,  but  tiiis  sacrament  supposes  grace  m  a 
participant.  And  indeed,  bread  and  wine  are  not 
ordered  to  enliven  a  dead  man,  but  to  nourish  and 
maintain  bfe  in  a  hving  man.  'J"he  l)ello\vs  l<iiidle 
not  the  wood,  but  suppose  the  fire  l<indled  i)efore. 
This  sacrament  is  insiituted  as  a  part  of  refresii- 
ment,  with  meat  and  drinlc  ;  and  tliough  Christ, 
who  is  exiiibited  in  tliis  sacrament,  can  raise  a  dead 
man,  yet  He  is  offered  in  tliis  ordinance  for  pro- 
ducing such  effects  which  are  agr^-eable  to  the 
nature  of  it.  He  is  oflcred  as  spiritual  food,  and 
spiritual  food  supposes  a  new  biitii. 

—  Cka)7iock,  1 628- 1 680. 

(3314.)  I  see  plainly  by  unquestionable  ex- 
perience, that  either  we  must  have  churches  witii- 
out  the  discipline  of  Christ,  and  be  rulers  without 
ruling  it ;  or  else  we  must  utterly  undo  our  people, 
body  and  soul  for  ever,  and  plunge  them  into  a 
desperate  state,  and  make  all  our  following  labours 
in  vain  to  multitudes  of  them  :  or  else  we  must  take 
another  course,  than  to  admit  our  parishes  to  adult 
church-membership,  as  was  formerly  done,  without 
preparation  and  fitness  for  such  a  state. 

And  yet  in  their  blindness,  gentlemen,  ministers, 
and  all  that  plead  for  conmion  church-membership, 
pretend  to  be  charitable  to  the  people's  souli,  when 
they  are  exercising  this  grievous  cruelty.  It  is  just 
as  if  in  mercy  to  the  schoolboys,  you  should  set 
them  that  cannot  read  English  in  the  highest  form, 
where  they  must  make  orations  in  Latin  and  Greek, 
or  else  be  whipped  :  would  they  thaid<  you  for  such 
advancement  ?  It  is  as  if  you  should  put  an  igno- 
rant, unexercised,  cowardly  soldier,  or  one  that  is 
but  learning  to  use  his  arms,  into  the  front  of  the 
battle,  for  his  honour  :  or  as  if  you  should  prefer  a 
pupil  to  be  a  tutor,  or  put  a  freshman  in  the  doctor's 
chair,  or  admit  a  newly-baptized  novice  to  V)e  a 
pa'jtor  of  the  Church,  where  the  blood  of  the  people 
shall  be  required  at  his  hands;  or  as  if  to  honour 
him,  you  should  admit  any  common  mariner  to  the 
pilot's  place,  or  any  apothecary  to  play  the  phy- 
sician to  other  men's  ruin,  and  his  own  shame.  If 
you  set  such  children  on  horseback,  while  you 
pretend  their  good,  you  will  break  their  necks. 
No  man  is  safe  out  of  his  own  rank  and  place.  If 
the  husbandman  know  that  every  sort  of  plants  and 
grain,  must  have  their  proper  soil  and  season,  and 
the  gardener  knoweth  that  several  herbs  and 
flowers  must  be  variously  manured,  or  else  they 
will  not  prosper  ;  why  should  we  be  less  wise  in 
the  work  of  God  ?  As  country  schools  are  semi- 
naries to  the  academies,  so  the  catechumens  or 
.  expectants  is  the  seminary  to  the  Church,  and  the 
state  of  infant  church-membership  the  seminary  to 
the  state  of  the  adult,  into  which  they  must  be 
seasonably  and  solemnly  transplanted  when  they 
are  ripe  and  ready,  and  not  before.  Truly  our 
merciful  hastlings  do  but  yoke  untamed  bullocks, 
that  are  fitter  to  strive  and  tire  themselves  than  to 
plough  ;  and  do  but  saddle  such  wild,  unbroken 
colts  as  are  more  likely  to  break  their  own  and 
their  rider's  necks,  than  to  go  the  journey  which 
they  are  designed  for.     In  the  state  of  expectants, 


these  men  may  profit  by  preparing  ordinances,  and 
the  season  may  come  when  they  may  filly  be  trans- 
planted :  but  if  we  put  thjm  inter  Jidcles,  that 
are  not  prepared  for  the  station,  we  bring  them 
under  a  discipline  which  will  exasperate  them,  and 
turn  them  to  be  malignant  enemies,  and  undo  them 
for  ever.  The  disposition  of  the  mailer  must  go 
before  the  reception  of  the  form  ;  lor  indispo.-.ed 
matter  will  not  receive  it.  As  the  operation  ful- 
loweth  the  being  and  the  disposition,  so  we  must 
employ  every  person  and  thing  in  such  operations 
only  as  their  being  and  qualification  is  capable  of 
and  suited  to.  A  due  placing  of  all  according  to 
their  qualifications  is  the  chief  part  of  our  govern- 
ment. Misplace  but  one  wheel  in  your  watch, 
and  try  how  it  will  go.  If  any  person  or  thing  be 
not  good  in  his  own  place,  he  will  be  much  worse 
out  of  it,  in  the  place  of  his  superior.  Fire  is  better 
in  the  chimney  than  in  your  bed,  or  upon  your 
table ;  a  good  clerk  may  make  but  a  sorry  coun- 
sellor; and  a  good  subject  may  make  but  an  ill 
magistrate  :  and  many  a  man  becomes  the  seat  of  a 
justice,  that  would  not  become  the  prince's  throne. 
If  you  would  not  undo  men's  souls  by  a  iliscipline 
which  they  cannot  bear,  let  them  stay  in  the 
seminary  of  expectants  till  ihey  are  ripe  for  it. 

— Baxter,  1615-169I. 

(3315.)  The  profiting  of  our  people  will  be  much 
greater  in  their  own  place,  when  those  that  are  not 
yet  fit  for  adult- membership  and  privileges  are 
kept  in  the  place  of  catechumens  or  expectants. 
Everything  doth  thrive  and  prosper  best  in  its  own 
place  :  if  you  tear  them  not  out  of  the  Church's 
womb,  till  they  are  ready  for  the  birth,  they  will 
prosper  there,  that  else  may  perish.  Your  corn 
will  best  prosper  in  the  cold  earth,  where  it  see*ns 
to  be  dead  and  buried,  till  the  springing-time  shall 
come.  And  you  should  not  violently  unhose  the 
ears,  till  nature  put  them  forth.  The  first  digestion 
must  be  wrought  before  the  second,  and  nature  must 
have  time  allowed  it,  and  the  stomach  must  not 
too  hastily  let  go  the  food,  if  you  would  have  good 
sanguification  and  nutrition  follow.  Men  think 
they  do  a  great  kindness  to  grossly  ignorant  or  im- 
pious men  to  take  them  into  the  Church,  before 
they  are  capable  of  such  a  station  and  the  work  or 
privileges  thereto  belonging  ;  but,  alas  !  they  do 
but  hurry  them  to  perdition,  by  thrusting  them  out 
of  the  state  where  ihey  might  have  thriven  in  pre- 
paration to  a  church-stale,  into  a  state  which  will 
set  them  abundance  of  work  which  they  are  utterly 
unfit  for,  and  under  the  pretence  of  benefits  and 
privileges  will  occasion  abundance  of  aggravations 
of  their  sins.  A  boy  in  his  A,  B,  C,  will  learn 
better  in  his  own  place  among  his  fellows,  than  in 
a  higher  form,  where  he  liath  work  set  him  which 
he  is  incapable  of  doing.     — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

8.  We  should  prepare  ourselves  to  receive  it. 

(3316.)  Abraham,  when  he  went  to  sacrifice  his 
son  on  Mount  Moriah,  seeing  the  place  afar  off, 
said  unto  the  young  men  that  were  with  him, 
"Abide  ye  here  with  the  ass,  and  I  and  the  lad 
will  go  yonder  and  worship."  He  knew  well 
enough,  that  if  they  had  gone  along  with  him,  they 
would  have  distracted  and  hindered  him  in  the 
sacrifice ;  and  therefore,  when  he  saw  tf.e  place 
afar  off,  he  prepared  himself,  and  bade  them  stay 
behind.  The  like  should  our  care  be,  when  we 
should  receive  the  sacrament;  when  we  see  the  tim» 


LORD'S  SUPPER.     THE  (     556    ) 


LORD'S  SUPPER.     THE 


iraw  near,  we  should  set  aside  all  worldly  cares 
and  employments,  and  bid  them  wholly  stand  aside, 
and  suffer  them  not  only  not  to  go  to  the  Mount 
with  us,  but  not  to  go  into  our  secret  chambers 
with  us,  but  shut  them  out  of  doors,  make  them 
dance  attendance  there,  that  we  may  perlorm  the 
duly  with  more  comfort  and  freedom. 

— Dyke,  1644. 

(3317-)  We  must  not  only  examine  whether  we 
have  a  wedding-garment,  but  also  wliether  it  be  well 
kept  and  bruslied  ;  whether  no  moths  be  got  into  it, 
no  new  si'ots  dashed  upon  it.  A  rich  robe  may  be 
sometimes  so  besmeared  and  daubed  with  mire, 
that  none  of  the  gold  lace  upon  it  may  be  visible, 
till  cleansed.  Graces  are  to  be  purified,  as  well  as 
sins  purged  out  ;  grace,  as  well  as  metal,  for  want 
of  rubbing  and  exercise,  will  gather  dust. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

9.  The  Bin  of  not  discerning  tlie  Lord's  body. 
(3318.)   Like  as,  if  a  rebellious  subject  should  no 

more  regard  his  prince's  seal  than  other  common 
wax,  or  have  it  in  no  greater  reverence  than  the 
seal  of  some  private  man,  it  miL'ht  rightly  be  said 
tliat  he  maketh  no  difference  of  his  prince's  person 
— that  is  to  say,  that  he  doth  no  more  esteem  liim 
than  he  doth  other  men,  yet  it  needeth  not  that  the 
king's  person  be  there  really  present  :  so,  when  we 
come  to  the  Lord's  table,  if  we  take  irreverently  the 
mystical  bread  and  wine  as  other  common  meats 
appointed  for  the  belly,  then  make  we  no  diffe- 
rence of  the  Lord's  body  ;  we  do  not  esteem  the 
worthiness,  price,  and  virtue  of  it,  which  in  the 
holy  mysteries  is  so  freely  and  so  liberally  offered 
unto  us  ;  and  therefore,  if  we  receive  this  sacra- 
ment irreverently,  not  considering  who  is  the  Author 
of  it,  nor  who  it  is  that  offereth  Himself  so 
mercifully  and  lovingly  unto  us,  it  is  no  marvel  that 
the  holy  apostle  saith  that  we  are  guilty  of  the 
body  and  blood  of  the  Lord — that  is  to  say,  that  we 
are  before  the  seat  of  the  Almighty  God,  because  of 
oui  unthankfulness  and  irreverent  handling  of  the 
holy  mysteries,  counted  as  guilty  as  if  we  had  slain 
the  body  of  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God,  and  shed 
His  most  precious  blood  upon  the  cross  ;  or  it  is  no 
marvel  that,  instead  of  grace,  instead  of  forgiveness 
of  our  sins,  and  of  life  everlasting,  we  do  eat  and 
drink  our  own  damnation  ;  and  yet  it  followeth  not 
that  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ  be  really  present 
there  in  the  sacrament.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

10.  Wliy  BO  many  derive  go  little  profit  from  Its 
Observance. 

(3319.)  Abraham,  when  he  went  with  his  ser- 
vants to  sacrifice  Isaac,  said  unto  them,  "  Abide 
you  here  with  the  ass,  and  I  and  the  lad  will  go 
yonder  and  worship,  and  come  again  to  you."  Thus 
too  many  do  witli  their  sins  w  hen  they  come  to  the 
sacrament  ;  tliey  do,  in  effect,  say  to  their  sins  and 
lusts,  "  Stand  you  awhile  aside;  I  must  go  to  the 
sacrament  and  receive  the  communion.  Do  but 
stand  by  awhile,  and  when  the  sacrament  is  over, 
or,  at  farthest,  as  soon  as  the  sacrament  day  is  over, 
I  will  come  again  to  you."  Thus,  the  duly  once 
over,  and  the  sacrament  a  little  forgotten,  they  and 
their  sins  are  hail-fellow-well-met  upon  all  occa- 
sions. — Dyke,  1644. 

(3320.)  Let  us  see  that  we  so  come  to  Him,  that 
we  do  not  put  liim  to  receive  sins  as  well  as  sinners. 


For  though  Christ  is  willing  to  make  us  part  of  His 
body,  yet  He  is  not  willing  to  unite  Himself  to 
ulcers  and  putrefaction.  And  therefore  He  that 
comes  hither  with  a  Judas's  heart  and  hy]3ocrisy, 
will  find  a  Judas's  entertainment;  and  thou^jh  he 
mny  receive  the  morsel  from  Christ's  hand,  yet  he 
will  find  that  the  devil  will  enter  and  go  along  with 
it.  It  will  be  only  the  nutriment  of  his  sin,  anil  the 
repast  of  his  corruption.  He  that  comes  to  this 
dreadful  duty  profane,  unclean,  or  intemperate,  will 
go  away  with  qvncker  dispositions  and  livelier 
appetites  to  those  sins.  Every  corruption  shall 
rise  and  recover  itself,  like  a  giant  refreshed  with 
wine.  For  Clirist  has  given  the  devil  full  com- 
mission to  enter  into  such  swine,  and  to  drive  them 
headlong  to  their  own  destruction. 

— South,  1633-17 16. 

(3321.)  "They  that  wait  on  the  Lord  shall  re- 
ceive strength."  Thus  God  shall  make  good  His 
promise,  "As  thy  days  are,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be."  Why  then,  it  may  be  asked,  do  men  go  from 
the  house  of  God  and  from  a  communion  table  to 
be  worsted,  "as  at  other  times  before,"  by  the 
devil,  the  world,  and  the  fiesh  ?  Baptize  a  wither- 
ing plant  with  water,  and  it  lifts  up  its  head,  casts 
oft  the  old  leaves,  and  puts  out  a  fresh  crop  of  buds 
and  blossoms  ;  or  carry  a  cup  of  water,  or  of  wine, 
to  the  lips  of  a  fainting  man,  and  his  pulse  beats 
again  ;  the  blood  returns  to  his  cheek  ;  he  opens 
his  eyes  ;  he  rises  to  his  feet,  if  a  racer,  to  resume 
the  course;  if  a  soldier,  to  renew  the  combat.  And 
if  it  be  true,  that  like  water  to  a  languishing  flower, 
or  wine  to  a  fainting  man,  so  are  the  ordinances  of 
religion  to  the  soul,  why  are  men  often  no  better  of 
iheui  ?  why  are  they  like  "clouds  without  rain" 
that  give  their  sliadows,  but  no  showers,  to  brown, 
barren  fields?     This  admiis  of  an  easy  explanation. 

The  ordinances  of  reliLjion  are  comi)ared  to  wells 
of  water  ;  but  then  they  are  like  Jacob's  well.  The 
water  lies  far  below  the  surface  ;  and  to  the  man  of 
the  world,  the  mere  professor  of  religion  who  has 
the  name  but  not  the  faith  of  a  Christian,  we  may 
say,  as  the  woman  said  to  our  Lord,  "  Sir,  thou 
hast  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the  well  is  deep." 
Faith  is,  as  it  were,  the  rope,  and  our  souls  tha 
vessel,  which  we  let  down  into  this  well  to  fill  them 
with  IfVing  water.  But  that  they  do  no  good  to 
some,  forms  no  reason  why  we  should  despise  or 
neglect  ordinances.  It  is  no  fault  in  the  bread, 
that,  thrust  between  a  dead  man's  teeth,  it  does  not 
nourish  him.  The  truth  is,  that  we  must  have 
spiritual  life  to  get  the  benefit  of  religious  ordinances. 
Water  will  revive  a  withering,  but  not  a  withered 
plant ;  wine  will  revive  a  dying,  .but  not  a  dead 
man  ;  the  breath  of  your  mouth,  or  the  breeze  of 
heaven,  will  rekindle  the  smouldering  coal,  but  not 
the  cold,  grey  ashes  of  the  hearth.  And  it  is  only 
spiritual  life  that  can  derive  benefit  from  such  ordi- 
nances as  are  intended  to  revive  the  faint  and  give 
strength  to  the  weary.  — Guthrie, 

(3322.)  Were  they  to  speak  their  own  experience, 
many  who  come  to  the  church  and  go  to  the  sacra- 
ment would  say.  What  is  the  Lord  that  we  should 
serve  Him  ?  what  profit  shall  we  have  if  we  pray  to 
Him  ?  Still  there  is  no  genuine  Christian  but  will 
set  to  his  seal  that  God's  promises  are  true  ;  but  has 
often  found  himself  in  times  of  trouble,  in  seasons 
of  trial  and  temptation,  greatly  refreshed  and  streng 
thened  by  waiting  on  the  Lord.     What  though  the 


LOVE. 


(     557     ) 


LOVE. 


disciples,  within  a  few  hours  of  leaving  the  com- 
iiuuiion  table,  gave  its  vows  to  the  winds  ;  bent  like 
reeds  before  the  blast  ;  and,  instead  of  rallying 
round  their  Master  as  they  had  promised,  played 
tiic  part  of  cowards — flung  away  their  weapons  and 
fled  the  field  ?  They  had  been  waiting  on  the 
Loicl  ;  and  was  this  all  they  got,  or  is  it  all  we 
shall  get  by  doing  so?  These  questions  may  be 
asked  ;  but  they  prove  nothing  against  the  truth  of 
God's  Word.  Jt  is  not  the  fact  that  they  went  from 
♦  he  communion  table  to  flee.  That  is  not  a  correct 
statement  ot  the  case.  They  did  not  go  from  mak- 
ing vows,  from  professing  that  they  would  die  with 
the  Lord — one  to  deny,  and  all  to  desert  Ilim. 
After  supper  they  went  to  sleep  ;  and  from  that, 
not  from  their  knees,  they  rose  to  flee.  The  hus- 
bandman coveis  the  seed  when  he  has  sown  it  ;  the 
workman  rivets  the  nail  when  he  has  driven  it ;  and 
had  the  disciples  followed  up  the  work  of  coui- 
niunion  with  the  work  of  prayer,  they  would  have 
risen  from  their  knees,  if  need  be,  to  die,  but  in  no 
case  to  deny  their  Master.  — Gutkrie. 


LOVE. 

I.    ITS  SOURCE. 

(3323. )  As  one  familiar  with  the  sonatas  and 
the  sym]5honies  of  Beethoven,  while  passing  along 
the  street  in  summer,  gets  from  out  of  the  open 
window  a  snatch  of  a  song,  or  of  a  piece  that  is 
being  playetl,  catching  a  strain  here  and  another 
there,  and  says  to  himself,  "  Ah,  that  is  Beethoven  ! 
1  recognise  that  ;  it  is  from  such  and  such  a  move- 
ment of  the  Pastoral,"  or  whatever  it  may  be  ;  so 
men  in  life  catch  strains  of  God  in  the  mother's 
disinterested  and  self-denying  love;  in  the  lover's 
glow  ;  in  the  little  child's  innocent  affections. 
Where  did  this  thing  come  from  ?  No  plant  ever 
brought  out  such  fruit  as  this.  Nature,  dumb  and 
blind,  with  her  lizards,  and  stones,  and  thousand 
accumulations  of  matter,  ne\er  'houglit  anytliing 
like  that.  This  and  that  harmony  of  light,  the  few 
hints  which  we  see  here  and  there — the.se  have  been 
sprinkled  into  life,  dropping  from  above.  And 
there  is  a  fountain  where  exist  elements  and  attri- 
butes of  which  these  are  but  the  .souvenirs.  And  to 
me  they  all  point  back  to  something  which  we  have 
not  seen.  As  birds,  when  alter  moulting  they  begin 
to  sing,  break  down  in  mid-song,  and  give  only  a 
snatch  here  and  a  snatch  there  of  the  full  volume  of 
their  summer  strains  ;  so  these  hints,  these  little 
tinkling  notes  of  love  on  earth,  beautiful  as  they 
are  in  themselves,  are  not  perfect,  and  are  not 
understood  until  we  trace  them  back,  and  feel  that 
there  is  above  somewhere  One  whose  nature  epito- 
jnises  all  these  things. 

Go  and  look  on  the  south  side  of  the  Highlands. 
You  shall  see  that,  detached  from  the  rocks  there, 
and  lying  in  a  long  trail,  for  miles  and  miles,  aie 
blocks  of  syenite,  or  of  trap,  or  of  granite,  as  the 
case  may  be.  And  there  is  many  a  block  which,  if 
you  choose,  you  can  trace  back  to  the  very  spot 
where  the  ice  pried  it  out,  or  from  which  the  flood 
or  the  iceberg  ilrifled  it  along  the  mountain  side. 
Now,  as  it  is  with  those  blocks  of  stone,  so  it  is 
with  these  scattered  elements  and  traits  that  have 
drifted  out,  as  it  were,  from  the  mountain  of  God, 
and  sweetened  the  household,  and  refined  civilised 
life.     They  are,  after  aJ).,  but  the   outflownig,  the 


drift,  as  it  were,  of  the  great  Divine  Soul  in  this 
world.  — Beecke?: 

II.    ITS  EXCELLENCE. 

1.  It  Is  the  life  of  the  soul  and  of  the  moval 
universe. 

(3324.)  The  soul  may  sooner  leave  off  to  subsist 
than  to  love  ;  and,  like  the  vine,  it  withers  and  dies  if 
it  has  nothing  to  embrace.    — Sottth,  1633-17 16, 

(3325.)  It  is  the  heat  of  the  universe.  Philo- 
sophers tell  us  that  without  heat  the  universe  would 
die.  And  love  in  the  moral  universe  is  what  heat 
is  in  the  natural  world.  It  is  the  great  germinat- 
ing power.  It  is  the  ripening  influence.  It  is  the 
power  by  which  all  things  are  brought  steadily  up 
from  lower  to  higher  forms.  — Beechcr. 

2.  It  Is  the  hond  that  unites  all  holy  Intelll- 
gences. 

(3326.)  Cnsfiis.  T  have  been  thinking  of  love  as 
the  band  which  unites  all  holy  intelligence  to  Gog 
and  one  another  ;  as  that  in  the  moral  system  which 
the  law  of  attraction  is  in  the  system  of  nature. 

Gains.  Very  good  ;  while  the  planets  revolve 
round  the  .sun  as  their  central  point,  and  are 
supremely  attracted  by  it,  they  each  have  a  sub- 
ordinate influence  upon  the  others  :  all  attract  and 
are  attracted  by  others  in  their  respective  orbits  ; 
yet  no  one  of  these  subordinate  attractions  interferes 
with  the  grand  attractive  influence  of  the  sun.  but 
acts  rather  in  perfect  concurrence  with  it.  Under 
some  such  idea  we  may  conceive  of  supreme  love  to 
God  and  subordinate  love  to  creatures. 

Crispus.  Among  the  planets,  if  I  mistake  not, 
the  attractive  power  of  each  body  corresponds  with 
the  quantity  of  matter  it  possesses,  and  its  proximity 
to  the  others. 

Gains.  True,  and  though  in  general  we  are  re- 
quired to  love  our  neighbour  as  ourselves,  yet  there 
are  some  persons,  on  account  of  their  superior  value 
in  the  scale  of  being,  and  others  on  account  o( 
their  more  immediate  connection  with  us,  whom  w^ 
are  allowed  and  even  oljliged  to  love  more  thaa 
the  rest.  —A.  Fuller,  1754-1S15. 

3.  It  Is  the  supreme  grace. 

(3327.)  Love  is  the  queen  of  the  graces  ;   it  out- 
shines all  the  other,  as  the  sun  the  lesser  planets. 
—  Walson,  1696. 

(3328.)  If  charity  be  greater  than  faith,  then  is 
not  man  justified  by  faith  only.  Inconsequent  illa- 
tion !  St.  Paul  commends  not  love  for  the  virtue  0I 
justification  ;  it  may  fail  in  that  particular  action, 
yet  receive  no  impeachment  to  the  excellency  of  it. 
By  demonstration  :  A  prince  excels  a  peasant  ; 
shall  any  man  therelore  mfer  that  he  can  plough 
better,  or  have  more  skill  in  tillage  ?  A  philosophei 
excels  a  mechanic,  though  he  cannot  grind  so  wftll 
as  a  miller,  or  limn  so  cunningly  as  a  painter.  A 
man  is  better  than  a  beast  ;  who  but  a  madman  will 
therefore  conclude  that  lie  can  run  faster  than  a 
horse,  draw  more  than  an  ox,  or  carry  a  greater 
burden  than  an  elephant  !  Though  he  fail  in  these 
particular  acts,  yet  none  will  deny  but  he  is  better 
than  a  beast.  Adams,  1653. 

4.  Its  production  Is  the  end  of  Christ's  mission 
and  of  all  religious  ordinances. 

(3329.)  Christ  came  not  into  the  world  to  fill  our 
heads  with  mere  speculations,  to  kindle  a  tire  q/ 


LOVE. 


(    SS8    ) 


LOVE. 


wrangling  and  contentious  dispute  amongst  us,  and 
to  warm  our  spirits  against  one  another  with  angry 
and  peevish  deDa'.es,  vvhile,  in  the  meantime,  our 
hearts  remain  all  ice  within  towards  God,  and  have 
not  the  least  spark  ol  true  heavenly  love  to  melt 
and  thaw  them.  Christ  came  not  to  possess  our 
brains  with  some  cold  opinions,  that  send  down  a 
freezing  and  benumbing  influence  into  our  hearts. 
Christ  was  a  master  of  the  life,  not  of  the  school  ; 
and  lie  is  the  best  Christian  whose  heart  beats  with 
the  purest  pulse  towards  heaven,  not  he  whose  head 
spins  the  tinesl  cobweb. 

—  Ctidivorth,  1 6 1 7- 1 688. 

(3330.)  It  is  obvious  that  in  order  to  solid  pro- 
ficiency in  any  kind  of  art,  the  student  must  first  be 
furnished  with  a  clear  answer  to  the  question,  What 
is  the  object — the  end  to  be  reached?  'lake  the 
art  of  oratory,  for  instance.  What  (in  briei)  is  the 
thing  to  be  done  by  the  orator,  the  end  at  which  he 
must  aim  ?  Let  us  say  that  it  is  to  persuade  the 
audience  to  adopt  or  refrain  from  a  certain  course 
of  action.  If  he  can  persuade  them  to  do  what  he 
advises,  he  hits  the  mark — he  reaches  tiie  end  of 
the  art — he  succeeds.  But  if,  after  having  heard 
him,  they  act  in  a  way  opposite  to  that  which  he 
recommends,  he  goes  wide  of  the  mark — his  speech 
is  a  failure.  And  this  is  a  good  subject  to  draw  the 
instance  from,  because  as  a  fact  both  speakeis  and 
hearers  often  do  make  much  the  same  mistake  as 
to  oratoiy,  which  is  universally  made  as  to  religion. 
Too  often,  for  example,  is  a  fine  sermon  thought  to 
be,  not  that  which  gives  a  spur  to  the  wills  of  the 
hearers,  not  that  which  induces  them  to  set  about 
reforming  their  lives,  and  becoming  good  people, 
but  that  which  merely  explains  a  difficult  text  of  the 
Bible,  or  which  goes  towards  settling  a  controversial 
question,  or  which,  not  even  possessing  merits  as 
high  as  these,  has  merely  fine  language  and  flowers 
of  rhetoric  to  recommend  it.  Now  it  is  clear  that 
the  perception  of  the  true  end  is  the  first  step  to- 
wards setting  the  practice  right.  I  have  done  some- 
thing towards  rectilying  my  preaching,  if  1  have 
settled  it  in  my  own  mind  that,  ^n  the  one  hand,  I 
shall  fail  utterly,  unless  1  send  the  audience  away 
with  a  desire  for,  and  an  impulse  towards, 
spiritual  improvement,  and  that,  on  the  other, 
1  shall  succeed  perfectly,  if  I  do  send  them  away 
with  such  a  desire  and  impulse,  even  if  my  sermon 
should  settle  no  controversy,  should  explain  no 
merely  speculative  difficulty,  and  should  be  ab- 
solutely wanting  in  fine  words  and  in  all  the  graces 
of  style.  St.  John  was  a  true  orator  in  his  old  age, 
when  from  his  infirmities  lie  was  unable  to  say  more 
than  this,  "  Little  children,  love  one  another,"  be- 
cause the  antecedents  of  that  holy  and  venerable 
bishop,  and  the  deep  and  living  sympathy  with 
■which  he  uttered  the  words,  really  moved  the 
hearers  to  comjily  with  the  precept,  and  their  feuds 
sank  to  rest  at  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

Let  us  take  an  instance  from  another  art,  where 
there  may  perhaps  be  some  doubt  as  to  what  should 
be  the  artist's  object.  What  is  the  end  of  painting, 
the  aim  which  the  painter  must  set  before  him  ? 
Is  it  to  deceive  the  spectator,  to  give  him  a  false 
impression,  to  make  him  imagine  that  the  painted 
object  is  a  real  one  ?  It  would  seem  that  the 
ancients  thought  so  from  the  story  current  among 
them  of  the  trial  of  skill  between  Zeuxis  and  Parr- 
hasius,  in  which  one  of  theni  painted  a  bunch  of 
grapes  so  like  natan,   that    the   birds    came    and 


pecked  at  them,  and  the  other  a  curtain  so  like  real 
drapeiy,  that  his  brother  artist  called  on  him  to 
draw  the  curtain  and  exhibit  his  picture.  Or  is  the 
end  of  painting  not  to  deceive,  but  to  please  the 
spectator  by  a  faithful  imitation  of  nature, — an  end 
which  is  incompatible  with  deception  ;  for  if  the 
spectator  is  to  be  affected  with  pleasure  by  the 
fidelity  of  an  imitation,  he  must  of  course  be  aware 
that  it  wan  imitation,  and  not  the  reality?  And, 
again,  hmv  is  nature  to  be  imitated  by  the  painter  7 
Servilely,  and  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  line  upon 
line,  feature  by  feature?  Or  shall  we  say  rather 
that  there  is  a  soul  in  nature,  a  soul  in  every 
countenance,  ay,  and  a  soul  in  every  landscape, 
which  struggles  for  a  fuller  development,  and  to 
which  it  is  the  painter's  business  to  give  expression? 
In  other  words,  is  a  photograph  the  very  highest 
style  of  imitative  art,  because  it  is  true  in  the 
letter?  or  is  a  portrait  of  Raffaelle's  or  Murillo's 
infinitely  higher  than  any  photograph  can  be,  be- 
cause it  is  true  not  so  much  in  the  letter  as  in  the 
spirit? 

It  is  not  to  my  point  to  answer  these  questions,  but 
only  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  they  may  be 
asked,  and  answered  difierently.  And  an  artist 
who  intends  to  paint  successfully  must  have  a  clear 
answer  to  them  in  his  mind  before  he  begins.  He 
must  resolve  himsell  on  the  question,  "  What  is  the 
true  object  of  my  art  ?  Is  it  to  produce  deception  ? 
Is  it  to  please  persons  by  a  faithful  imitation  of 
nature?  And  if  so,  what  is  a  faithful  imitation? 
Is  it  a  servile  copy,  like  the  Chinese  imitation  of 
pottery,  which  reproduces  the  flaws  and  the  cracks  ; 
or  is  it  the  development  of  a  feature  which  in  the 
original  seems  to  yearn  for  expression?"  If  this 
point  be  not  settled  at  the  beginning,  he  is  certain 
to  go  astray  in  the  execution. 

The  above  illustrations  will  not  be  thrown  away, 
if  they  tend  in  any  mind  to  clear  up  the  posi- 
tion which  we  are  endeavouring  to  establish. 
As  in  the  arts,  so  also  in  the  pursuit  of  holi- 
ness, or,  in  other  words,  in  the  spiritual  life, 
there  is  an  end;  and  it  is  all-important  that 
they  who  would  be  proficients  in  the  spiritual 
life  should  discern  clearly  what  this  end  is,  and 
hold  it  steadily  before  them  in  their  every  endeavour. 
Llie  end  is  love — supreme  love,  with  all  the  powers  of 
the  soul  to  God, — and  such  love  to  our  brethren  as 
we  bear  to  ourselves, — this  love  to  be  engendered 
by  a  living  faith  in  what  God  has  done  lor  us,  a 
faith  which  ■■ets  free  the  heart  both  from  a  sense  of 
guilt  and  from  a  love  of  sin,  and  which  thus  sets  the 
conscience  at  ease.  If  this  love  is  not  produced 
and  maintained  in  the  soul,  we  fail  altogether  in 
true  religion,  and  that,  though  we  may  have  been 
very  busy  aboiU  religion,  may  have  put  up  many 
prayers,  heard  many  sermons,  attended  many  sacra- 
ments, assisted  in  many  philanthropic  enterprises. 

— Goiilbin-n. 

6.  It  renders  all  our  services  acceptable. 

(3331.)  Love  is  the  heart  of  religion,  the  fat  ol 
the  ottering  :  it  is  the  grace  which  Christ  inquires 
most  after,  "  Peter,  lovest  thou  Me  ?  "  Love  makes 
all  our  services  acceptable,  it  is  the  musk  that  per- 
fumes them.  —  Watson,  1696. 

(3332.)  It  is  not  so  much  the  thing  done,  as  the 
spirit  in  which  it  is  done,  which  is  of  such  greaf 
moment.  For  love  is  an  aflTection  of  the  heart  and 
will,    and   we   know    that   very   small    tokens,    tha 


LOVE, 


C    559    ) 


LOVE. 


merest  trifles,  will  evince  it ;  and  that,  when  it  is 
evinced,  it  lias  a  peculiar  power  of  winning  its  way 
both  with  Goti  and  man.  Suppose  a  great  fortune 
laid  out  in  building  churches,  or  relieving  the  poor, 
under  the  pressure  of  servile  fear,  and  with  the 
design  of  expiating  sin,  or  a  great  philanthropic 
enterprise  inaugurated  and  maintained  from  ambi- 
tious motives  ;  can  it  be  supposed  that  such  acts, 
however  it  may  please  Him  to  bless  the  effects  of 
them,  go  for  anything  with  God  as  regards  the  doer 
of  them.  And,  on  the  other  iiand,  suppose  some 
very  simple,  commonplace  action,  something  not 
going  at  all  beyond  the  circle  of  routine  and  daily 
duty,  done  with  a  grateful,  affectionate  feeling  to- 
W'aids  God,  and  from  a  simple  desire  to  please  Him, 
and  to  win  His  approval, — can  it  be  supposed  that 
such  an  action,  however  tritiing  in  itself,  does  not 
go  for  something,  nay,  for  much,  with  God  ?  The 
love  of  Him  with  all  the  heart,  and  mind,  and  soul, 
and  strength,  is  "the  hrstand  great  commandment." 
One  movement  of  tiiat  love  gives  to  the  commonest 
action  the  fragrance  of  a  sacrifice;  while,  without 
one  movement  of  it,  the  costliest  oflering  must  of 
necessity  be  rejected.  "  If  a  man  should  give  all 
the  substance  of  his  house  for  love,  it  would  utterly 
be  contemned."  — Goulburn. 

6.  Its  excellence  Is  manifest  In  its  Influence  on 
the  heart  and  life. 

(l.)  //  casts  Old  fear. 

(3333.)  Love  and  fear  are  like  the  sun  and  moon, 

seldom  seen  together.  — Newton,  1725-1807. 

(2.)  //  expels  whatever  is  inconsistent  with  itself. 

(3334.)  Love  is  compared  to  fire,  the  nature  of 
which  is,  to  assimilate  to  itself  all  that  comes  near 
it,  or  to  consume  them  ;  it  turns  all  into  rtre  or 
ashes ;  nothing  that  is  heterogeneous  can  long 
dwell  with  its  own  simple,  pure  nature.  Thus  love 
to  Christ  will  not  suffer  the  near  neighbourhood  of 
anything  in  its  bosom  that  is  derogatory  to  Christ  ; 
either  it  will  reduce,  or  abandon  it,  be  it  pleasure, 
profit,  or  whatever  else.  Abraham,  who  loved 
Hagar  and  Ishmael  in  their  due  place,  when  the 
one  began  to  jostle  with  her  mistress,  and  the  other 
to  jeer  and  mock  at  Isaac,  he  puts  them  both  out 
of  doors  :  love  to  Christ  will  not  suffer  thee  to  side 
with  anything  against  Christ,  but  take  His  part 
with  Him  against  any  that  oppose  Him. 

—Salter. 

(3. )  It  kindles  aspirations  after  holiness. 

(333SO  Look  that  there  be  such  a  change  in  thy 
Judgment,  and  heart,  as  makes  thee  take  an  inward 
complacency  and  delight  in  Christ,  and  His  holy 
commands.  Then  there  is  little  fear  of  thy  degene- 
rating, when  thou  art  tied  to  Him  and  His  service, 
by  the  heart-strings  of  love  and  complacency.  The 
devil  finds  it  no  hard  work  to  part  him  and  his  duty 
that  never  joyed  nor  took  true  content  in  doing  of  it. 
He  whose  calling  doth  not  like  him,  nor  fit  his 
genius  (as  we  say),  will  never  excel  in  it.  A  scholar 
learns  more  in  a  week,  when  he  comes  to  relish 
learning,  and  is  pleased  with  its  sweet  taste,  than 
he  did  in  a  month,  when  he  went  to  sciiool  to  please 
his  master  (whom  he  feared)  not  himself.  Observe 
any  person  in  the  thing  wherein  he  takes  high  con- 
lent,  and  he  is  more  careful  and  curious  about  that 
than  any  other  If  his  heart  be  on  his  garden,  oh, 
how  neatly  it  is  kept !  it  shall  lie  as  we  say,  in 


print ;  all  the  rare  roots  and  slips  that  can  be  got 
for  love  or  money  shall  be  sought  for.  Is  it  beauty 
that  one  delights  in  ;  how  curious  and  nice  is  such 
a  one  in  dressing  herself?  she  hardly  knows  when 
she  is  fine  enough.  Truly  thus  it  is  here  ;  a  soul 
that  truly  loves  Christ,  delights  in  holiness  ;  all  his 
strength  is  laid  out  upon  them  ;  may  he  but  excel 
in  this  one  thing,  be  more  holy,  more  heavenly,  he 
will  give  others  leave  to  run  before  him  in  anything 
else.  — Citrnall,  i6ij-i6ig. 

(4.)  //  makes  obedience  easy. 

(3336.)  Nothing  is  difficult  to  love:  it  will  maka 
a  man  cross  his  own  inclinations  to  pleasure  them 
whom  he  loves.  — Tillotson,  1 630-1 694. 

(3337-)  Love  is  like  wings  to  the  bird,  like  sails 
to  the  ship,  it  carries  a  Christian  full-sail  to  heaven. 
When  love  cools,  obedience  slacks,  and  drives 
heavily,  because  it  wants  the  oil  on  its  wheel  that 
love  used  to  drop.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3338.)  Love  to  God  would  make  duties  of  reli- 
gion facile  and  pleasant.  I  confess  to  him  that 
hath  no  love  to  God,  religion  must  needs  be  a 
burden  :  and  I  wonder  not  to  hear  him  say,  "What 
a  weariness  is  it  to  serve  the  Lord."  It  is  like 
rowing  against  the  tide.  But  love  oils  the  wheels, 
it  makes  duty  a  pleasure.  Wliy  are  the  angels  so 
swift  and  winged  in  God's  service,  but  because  they 
love  Him?  Jacob  thought  seven  years  but  little 
for  the  love  he  did  bear  to  Rachel.  Love  is  never 
v/eary  ;  he  who  loves  money  is  not  weary  of  toiling 
for  it ;  and  he  who  loves  God  is  not  weary  of  serving 
Him.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3339.)  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  keep 
up  our  interest  in  the  holy  work  in  which  we  are 
engaged,  for  the  moment  our  interest  flags  the  work 
will  become  wearisome.  Humboldt  says  that  the 
copper-coloured  native  of  Central  America,  far  more 
accustomed  than  the  European  traveller  to  the 
burning  heat  of  the  climate,  yet  complains  more 
when  upon  a  journey,  because  he  is  stimulated  by  no 
interest.  The  same  Indian  who  would  complain, 
when  in  botanising  he  was  loaded  with  a  box  full 
of  plants,  would  row  his  canoe  fourteen  or  fifteen 
hours  together  against  the  current  without  a  mur.- 
mur,  because  he  wished  to  return  to  his  family. 
Labours  of  love  are  light.  Routine  is  a  hard 
master.  Love  much,  and  you  can  do  much.  Im- 
possibilities disappear  when  zeal  is  fervent. 

— Spurgeon. 

(3340.)  Two  boys,  the  sons  of  poor  parents,  went 
one  day  in  autumn  to  the  forest  to  collect  dry 
sticks.  One  of  them,  the  son  of  a  kind  widow,  was 
called  Erhard  ;  the  other,  named  Matthew,  had  a 
hard  stepmother,  who  often  lived  in  discord  with 
his  father. 

When  the  boys  reached  the  forest,  th^y  resolved 
to  return  home  together,  and  then  parted  to  look 
for  dry  sticks.  Erhard  collected  busily,  and  where 
he  saw  a  dry  branch  on  a  tree  he  climbed  up  and 
broke  it  off.  In  a  short  time  he  had  prepared  a 
heavy  bundle  and  tied  it  up  tightly. 

Then  he  ran  to  the  other  side,  calling  his  com- 
panion, who  answered  him  from  the  depth  of  the 
iorest ;  and  when  Erhard  joined  him  he  found  hira 
among  the  hazel  bushes.  When  Erhard  saw  him 
he  said,  "Let  us  go  home  now.     Where  is  youi 


LOVE. 


(    560    ) 


LOVE. 


faggot?"  But  Matthew  answered:  "Have  you 
finished  so  quickly  ?  I  have  not  yet  found  anything." 

Then  Matthew  took  out  a  knife,  and  looked 
about  to  see  if  any  one  was  near.  Erhard  asked 
him  :   ''  What  are  you  about  ?  " 

Tiie  other  answered  :  "  Pick  up  some  dry  sticks 
to  put  outside  the  faggot,  I  will  provide  for  the 
rest."  Then  he  prepared  to  cut  down  a  young  oak 
with  his  knife.  Erhard  was  terrified,  and  cried  : 
*'  God  forbid  that  you  should  hurt  the  young  tree. 
It  would  be  a  shame  and  a  sin.  If  the  forest 
keeper  were  to  hear  of  ii,  he  would  forbid  every  one 
to  pick  up  wood,  and  you  would  be  the  cause  if  all 
the  poor  people  were  to  go  without  wood  during 
the  severe  winter.  God  lorbid  that  we  should  do 
such  evil.     Wait  a  little,  I  will  find  a  way." 

Erhard  looked  round,  and  discovered  an  old  oak 
with  many  dead  branches  ;  he  climbed  up  the  tree 
like  a  squirrel,  and  threw  down  the  dry  wood. 
!Matthew  was  surprised. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  they  had  wood  enough, 
and  Erhard  made  a  bundle  and  carried  it  to  the 
place  where  he  had  left  his  own  ;  then  he  put  it 
down,  and  said  to  Matthew  :  "  Now,  take  it  on  your 
shoulder." 

But  Matthew  said:  "Let  me  rather  have  the 
other,  it  is  smaller  and  lighter  !  " 

Erhard  laughed,  and  said  :  "You  are  stronger 
and  taller  than  I  am  ;  but  let  i'  be  as  you  will." 

They  took  their  bundles  and  went.  Matthew 
panted  and  complained  ;  and  before  they  were  out 
of  the  forest,  he  asked  Erhard  to  stop,  that  they 
might  rest,  as  he  was  tired,  and  wherever  he  found 
a  nut  bush,  he  wanted  to  stop  to  look  for  nuts. 
But  Erhard  prevented  him  and  said  :  "  I  must  go 
to  my  mother." 

When  they  had  walked  a  little  while  on  the  road, 
Matthew  threw  his  bundle  ani^rily  to  the  ground, 
and  said;  "You  have  made  it  too  heavy."  He 
pulled  out  some  thick  pieces,  saying  :  "  Let  him 
take  these  who  pleases  !  " 

But  Erhard  picked  them  up  and  put  them  with 
his  own.  "I  will  cairy  them  for  you,"  said  he, 
"till  we  reach  the  town." 

Then  Matthew  was  astonished  at  the  kindness 
and  strength  ol  his  companion  ;  and  he  looked  at 
him,  and  said  :  "Who  teaches  you  to  do  this,  and 
what  gives  you  so  much  strength  ?" 

Erhard  answered  :  "  My  mother's  love."  But 
Matthew  sighed  and  groaned. 

— F.  A.  Krutnmacher. 

(3341.)  If  you  wish  to  go  from  one  side  to  the  other 

of  a  steep,  high  hill,  and  there  is  a  road  through 
it,  how  much  better  it  is  to  take  the  road  than  to 
climb  over  the  top  of  the  hill.  Now  there  is  such 
a  road  as  this  to  the  performance  of  duties,  and 
that  is  the  road  of  love.  If  a  man  does  the  things 
that  he  has  to  do  in  any  other  spirit  than  that  of 
love,  they  are  irksome  tasks ;  but  if  he  does  them 
in  a  spirit  of  love,  how  his  face  laughs  1  how  his 
hands  tingle  1  how  radiant  is  every  part  of  his 
life  ! 

If  one  were  sent  to  take  care  of  the  poor,  miser- 
able, wounded  soldiers  lying  in  the  plague-stricken 
hospitals  on  the  plain  of  Solferino,  he  would  say  to 
himself,  "  Money  would  not  hire  me  to  do  it,  but 
I  must  do  it  because  it  is  my  duty.  Here  are  men 
who  are  suffering  and  need  attention,  and  I  am 
bound  to  look  after  their  wants."  But  let  me  find 
my   OWD  son  among     hose    unfortunate   creatures, 


and,  no  matter  how  loathesome  might  be  the  offices 
to  be  performed  toward  him,  could  money  buy 
from  me  the  privilege  of  ministering  to  his  neces- 
sities? Could  any  motive  induce  me  to  leave  his 
side  day  or  night  ?  That  which  I  should  do  in  the 
one  case  through  conscientiousness,  or  from  a  sense 
of  duty,  and  which  would  be  a  disagreeable  ta-k,  I 
should  do  in  the  other  case  through  love,  and  it 
would  then  be  a  pleasure  to  me.  I  should  do  it 
with  delight.  There  would  not  be  hours  enough 
in  which  i  might  serve  in  love  my  wounded  son. 

Think  of  the  things  a  mother  does  for  her  child. 
She  gives  it  her  life.  She  cannot  serve  it  enough. 
To  her  there  is  nothing  but,  "My  babe."  It  is 
her  joy,  her  pleasure,  night  and  day.  There  are 
offices  that  she  has  to  perform  toward  it  that  are 
disagreeable  for  the  moment,  but  her  love  for  it 
enables  her  to  perform  them  with  willingness,  and 
to  forget  all  connected  with  them  which  is  unplea- 
sant. And  thus  are  fulfilled  the  words  of  Christ 
when  He  says,  "  My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden 
is  light."  Not  that  the  things  which  you  do  from 
love  are  not  sometimes  hard,  but  there  is  a  way  in 
which  you  can  engineer  hard  things  and  make 
them  seem  easy.  Love,  and  love  enough,  and  your 
burdens  will  not  seem  heavy.  Love  is  alile  to 
steer  you  over  all  difficulty.  Employ  it,  and  it  will 
carry  you  through  life  with  power  adequate  to  your 
exigencies.  Beecher. 

(5.)  It  inspires  self-sacrifice. 

(3342.)  In  the  time  of  Cromwell  a  young  soldier, 
for  some  offence,  was  condemned  to  die,  and  the 
time  of  his  death  was  fixed  "at  the  ringing  of  the 
curfew."  Naturally  such  a  doom  would  be  fearful 
and  bitter  to  one  in  the  years  of  his  hope  and 
prime,  but  to  this  unhappy  youth  death  was  doubly 
terrible,  since  he  was  soon  to  have  been  married  to 
a  beautiful  young  lady  whom  he  had  long  loved. 
The  lady,  who  loved  him  ardently,  in  return,  had 
used  her  utmost  efforts  to  avert  his  fate,  pleading 
with  the  judges,  and  even  Cromwell  himself,  but  all 
in  vain.  In  her  despair,  she  tried  to  bribe  the  old 
sexton  not  to  ring  the  bell,  but  she  found  that  im- 
possible. The  hour  drew  near  for  the  execution. 
The  preparations  were  completed.  The  officers  of 
the  law  brought  forth  the  prisoner,  and  waited,  while 
the  sun  was  setting,  for  the  signal  from  the  distant 
bell-tower.  To  the  wonder  of  everybody  it  did  not 
ring !  Only  one  human  being  at  that  moment 
knew  the  reason.  The  poor  girl,  half  wild  with 
the  thought  of  her  lover's  peril,  had  rushed  unseen 
up  the  wmding  stairs,  and  climbed  the  ladders  into 
the  belfry-loft,  and  seized  the  tongue  of  the  bell. 
The  old  sexton  was  in  his  place,  prompt  to  the 
fatal  moment.  He  threw  his  weight  upon  the  rope, 
and  the  bell,  obedient  to  his  practised  hand,  rt-cled 
and  swung  to  and  fro  in  the  tower.  But  the  brave 
girl  kept  her  hold,  and  no  sound  issued  from  its 
metallic  lips.  Again  and  again  the  sexton  drew  the 
rope,  but  with  desperate  strength  the  young  heroine 
held  on.  Every  moment  made  her  position  more 
fearful  ;  every  sway  of  the  bell's  huge  weight  threa- 
tened to  fling  her  through  the  high  lower  window  ; 
but  she  would  not  let  go.  At  last  the  sexton  went 
away.  Old  and  deaf,  he  had  not  noticed  that  the 
curfew  gave  no  peal  ;  the  brave  i;irl  descended  from 
the  befTry,  wounded  and  trembling.  She  hurried 
from  the  church  to  the  place  of  execution.  Crom- 
well himself  was  there,  and  just  as  he  was  sending 
to  demand  why  the  bell  was  silent,  she  saw  him-- 


LOVE. 


(    561    ) 


LOVE. 


"  And  her  brow, 
Lately  white  with  sickening  horror,  glows  with  hope 

and  courage  now  ; 
At  his  feet  she  told  her  story,  showed  her  hands 

all  bruised  and  torn, 
And  her  sweet  young  face,  still  haggard  with  the 

anguish  it  had  worn, 
Touched   his  heart  with  sudden   pity,  lit  his  eyes 

with  misty  light — 
'Go;    your  lover  lives,'  cried  Cromwell:   'curfew 

shall  not  ring  to-night.'  " 

(6.)  It  makes  the  soul  beautiful. 

(3343.)  The  love  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  heart  of 
man  is  like  a  ray  of  sun  shining  through  the  painted 
windows  of  a  cathedral,  colouring  and  embellishing 
it,  but  destroying  and  displacing  nothing. 

—  Vianney. 

(3344.)  Love,  that  geyser  of  the  soul,  can  melt 
the  ice  and  snow  of  the  most  frozen  regions  ;  where- 
ever  its  warm  springs  well  up,  there  glows  a 
southern  climate. 

(3345.)  With  love,  the  heart  becomes  a  fair  and 
fertile  garden,  with  sunshine  and  warm  hues,  and 
exhaling  sweet  odours  ;  but  without  it,  it  is  a  bleak 
desert  covered  with  ashes. 

(3346.)  True  love  alone  can  awaken  and  evoke 
all  the  nobility  and  grandeur  of  human  nature. 
'I'hen  we  are  like  musical  instruments  touched  by  a 
master's  hand.  That  organ  yonder,  many  fingers 
have  moved  over  its  keys  and  drawn  out  its  stops  ; 
but  the  harmonies  have  not  surprised  us,  our  listen- 
ing has  not  even  deepened  into  interest.  But  one 
day  a  stranger  came  and  sat  before  it,  and  presently 
rich,  exquisite  melodies  began  to  pour  forth,  new 
and  wondrous  depths  and  changes  of  tone  trembled 
in  the  air  and  thrilled  our  souls.  It  seemed  like  a 
living  thing  interpreting  the  secrets  of  our  hearts, 
so  that  we  hardly  dared  to  breathe  lest  we  should 
destroy  the  charm.  What  a  revelation  that  was  ! 
We  never  dreamed  that  the  old  instrument  could 
"discourse"  such  marvellous  strains.  But  the 
capacity  was  there,  only  the  soul  of  the  musician 
was  needed  to  inspire  it.  Tiius,  too,  can  love  elicit 
,  in  answer  to  its  skilful  touch  the  grandest  respon- 
sive harmonies  from  the  lowliest  human  heart.  And 
it  is  by  love — God's  love — that  our  great  nature  shall 
reveal  all  its  greatness.  — Braden. 

III.    CHARACTERISTICS  OF  TRUE  LOVE. 

1.  It  Is  practical. 

(3347. )  To  love  as  Christ  loves,  is  to  let  our  love 
be  a  practical,  and  not  a  merely  sentimental  thing. 
Some   are    in   danger   of  becoming    mere   religious 
sentimentalists.     They  revel   in  the  poetry  of  feel- 
ing ;  they  are  easily  wrought  into  an  etfeivescence 
of  tenderness  ;  they  delight  in  a  storm  of  emotional 
vehemency.     All  this  they  suppose  to  be  Christian 
love.     Vet   it   is   a   love   that  costs   them   nothing. 
They  feel  much,  but  do  little.     They  are  ready  for 
.    sympathy,  but  not  for  sacrifice.     Tliey  try,  in  effect, 
;   to  divorce  benevolence  Irom  beneficence.      They  are 
the  sensitive  plants  of  the  Church,   and  not  fruit- 
•  bearing  trees  of  righteousness.  — Stanjord. 

2.  It  embraces  God  and  man. 

(3348)  AH  true  love  is  one.  The  first  command- 
ment is  very  great,   but  the  second  is  not  little. 


They  are  upper  and  nether  pools,  and  the  same 
fountain  fills  them.  He  who  is  richest  in  the  love 
of  God  has  the  greatest  advantage  for  loving  his 
neighbour — for  loving  his  family,  his  household,  his 
country,  and  the  world.  And  that  is  the  best  and 
happiest  state  of  things,  the  primal  and  truly  natural, 
wliere,  springing  from  under  the  throne  of  God 
with  a  bright  and  heaven-reflecting  piety,  love  fills 
the  upper  pool,  then,  through  the  open  flower-fringed 
channel  of  filial  affection  and  the  domestic  charities, 
flows  softly  till  it  again  expands  in  neighbourly 
kindness  and  unreserved  philanthropy.  The  chan- 
nel may  be  choked.  The  devotee  may  close  it  up 
in  the  liope  of  raising  the  level  in  the  first  and  great 
reservoir,  and  by  arresting  the  current  he  causes  an 
overflow  and  converts  into  swamp  the  surrounding 
garden.  In  the  same  way  the  materialist  or  world- 
ling, content  with  the  lower  pool,  may  fill  up  the 
conduit,  and  declare  that  he  is  no  longer  depend- 
ent on  the  upper  magazine  ;  Dut  from  the  isolated 
cistern  quickly  evaporates  the  scanty  supply,  and 
thick  with  slime,  weltering  with  worms,  the  stag- 
nant residue  mocks  the  thirsty  owner,  or  as  over 
the  bubbling  malaria  he  persists  to  linger,  it  fills  his 
frame  with  the  mortal  poison.  Cut  off  from  living 
water,  receiving  from  on  high  no  consecrating  ele- 
ment, human  affection  is  too  sure  to  end  in  tlie  dis- 
gust of  a  disappointed  idolatry  or  the  mad  despair 
of  a  total  bereavement  ;  whilst  the  mystic  theopathy, 
which  in  order  to  give  the  whole  heart  to  God  gives 
none  to  its  fellows,  will  soon  have  no  heart  at  all. 

Love  is  of  Gotl,  and  all  true  love  is  one.  The 
piety  which  is  not  humane  will  soon  grow  super- 
stitious and  gloomy  ;  in  cases  like  Dominic  and 
Philip  II.  we  see  that  it  may  soon  grow  blood- 
thirsiy  and  cruel ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  will 
brotherly  love  long  contmue  if  the  love  of  God  is 
not  shed  abroad  abundantly. 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

(3349.)  Love  of  man  necessarily  arises  out  of  the 
love  ol  God.  The  love  of  the  creature  is  but  the 
corollary  to  the  love  of  the  Creator.  This  is  what 
the  Christian  finds,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  His  heart 
is  overcharged  with  love  to  God.  It  finds  its  way 
out  in  love  to  man.  His  direct  service  of  Gr i  can- 
not, in  the  nature  of  things,  go  very  far.  He  wor- 
ships God  publicly  in  His  house.  He  glorifies  Him 
secretly  in  the  constant  outpourings  of  his  heart. 
He  gives  of  his  substance  to  the  maintenance  of 
every  cause  which  is  God's  cause.  But  here  it  ends. 
God  is  so  mighty,  so  self-contained,  that  with  all 
our  puny  efforts,  much  cannot  be  done  to  serve  Him. 
.So  the  Christian  looks  about  to  see  how  he  is  to 
show  his  love  for  God.  He  soon  finds  the  way. 
Clearly,  it  must  be  by  lov^  for  his  fellow-men. 
Here  is  a  vast  field  for  practical  service.  It  begins 
with  his  own  household  ;  it  ends  with  tke  most  dis- 
tant idolater  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  globe. 
And  now  the  Christian  finds  what  a  right  royal  law 
this  is  of  the  Saviour's, — "Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind," — for  he  sees  that  it 
includes  and  covers  every  possible  form  of  duty  ; 
that  if  this  command  be  fulfilled,  it  necessitates  the 
fulfilling  of  every  other  command.  He  who  is  con- 
tent with  visiting  the  lower  eminences  which  sur- 
round Mont  Blanc  may  wander  about  from  one  to 
another,  and  get  picturesque  views  in  detail  ;  but, 
at  the  best,  they  are  only  partial  and  imperfect 
glimpses.     He  alone  who  reaches  the  topmost  suiu* 

2  N 


LOVE. 


(     563     ) 


LOVE. 


mit  can  command  at  one  glance  all  the  glorious 
view.  In  like  manner  must  it  be  with  him  who 
wishes  to  serve  God.  He  may  try  in  detail  to  keep 
this  and  that  commandment,  and  he  will  be  the 
better  and  happier  for  iiis  efforts.  But  in  order  to 
observe  tliem  all  truly  and  in  their  spirit,  he  must 
stand  on  the  moral  eminence  of  love  towards  God. 
Then  he  will  be  able  to  perform  his  duty,  not  bit 
by  bit,  but  as  a  whole,  complete  and  perfect,  doing 
everything  for  God,  and  yet  not  neglecting  man. 

— Hooper. 

IV.  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD,     \See  also  2318- 

2327.] 

(3350  )  A  sailor  who  had  been  piously  trained  in 
early  life,  but  had  lived  for  many  years  in  all  man- 
ner of  profligacy,  was  thoroughly  awakened  to  a 
sense  of  his  guilt  and  sinfulness  while  voyaging  in 
the  Pacific  Ocean.  One  night  his  terror  rose  to  such 
a  pitch,  that  he  dared  not  shut  his  eyes  lest  he 
should  awake  in  hell ;  but  at  length,  overcome  with 
fatigue  and  weariness,  he  fell  asleep.  In  this  con- 
dition he  dreamed  that  he  was  in  India  (where  he 
had  been  formerly),  and  heard  a  missionary  preach 
on  the  solemn  words,  "  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we 
neglect  so  great  salvation?"  He  was  so  moved  by 
the  words,  that  he  tried  to  run  away,  and  in  the 
effort  he  awoke.  His  own  words  shall  tell  what 
followed: — "The  perspiration  was  pouring  from 
my  forehead  ;  and  as  I  was  in  the  greatest  agitation, 
1  opened  God's  Word,  for  I  had  no  other  comforter. 
I  read  the  tliird  chapter  of  John,  and  there  I  saw 
what  I  needed — I  must  be  born  again.  I  read  on, 
and  came  to  the  sixteenth  verse  :  '  God  so  loved 
the  world,  that  He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son, 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish, 
but  have  everlasting  life.'  I  was  struck  by  these 
beautiful  words.  '  Does  that  include  me?  Yes,'  I 
said,  '  Whosoever  includes  me  ;  I  will  venture  on 
this  love.'  I  tried  to  give  God  my  heart ;  and 
there,  in  that  midnight  hour,  far  away  on  the  bil- 
lows, I  cast  my  poor  guilty  soul  on  His  mercy  ; 
and,  while  pleading  this  precious  word,  I  felt  peace 
and  comfort  within  me." 

V.  THE  LOVE  OF  CHRIST,    \See  also  946- 

95°-] 

1.  Transcends  onrs. 

(3351.)  Love  is  its  own  perennial  fount  of  strength. 
The  strength  of  affection  is  a  proof  not  of  the 
worthiness  of  the  object,  but  of  the  largeness  of  the 
soul  which  loves.  Love  descends,  not  ascends. 
Th!  miglu  of  a  river  depends  not  on  the  quality  of 
the  soil  through  which  it  passes,  but  on  the  inex- 
haustibleness  and  depth  of  the  spring  from  which  it 
proceeds.  The  greater  mind  cleaves  to  the  smaller 
■with  more  force  than  the  other  to  it.  A  parent 
loves  the  child  more  than  the  child  the  parent ;  and 
partly  because  the  parent's  heart  is  laiger,  not  be- 
cause the  child  is  worthier.  The  Saviour  loved  His 
disciples  infinitely  more  than  His  di-ciples  loved 
Him,  because  His  heart  was  infinitely  larger.  Love 
trusts  on,  ever  hopes  and  expects  better  things ; 
and  is  a  trust  springing  from  itself,  and  out  of  its 
own  deeps  alone.       — Rowland  Hill^  1744-1833. 

2.  The  most  powerful  of  motives. 

(3352.)  O'r  common  motives  are  no  stronger 
than  a  handful  of  water  wught  in  a  child's  hand, 


slipping  away  through  his  fingers  as  he  tries  to 
clutch  and  keep  it.  But  Christ's  love  is  like  the 
great  river  itself,  rushing  onward  evenly,  unweary- 
ing and  unwaiting  ;  strong  enough  to  bear  the  fleets 
of  all  the  nations  on  its  waters,  fertilising  every  soil 
it  passes  through,  offering;  its  strength,  and  wealth, 
and  fulness  to  every  one  alike,  irrespective  of  line- 
age or  of  station,  of  endowment  or  of  purpose,  of 
past  doings  or  of  present  hopes;  saying  plainly, 
"  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the 
waters." 

3.  Its  conquering'  power. 

(335.^-)  Alexander,  Csesar,  Charlemagne,  and  I 
myself,  have  founded  great  empires  :  but  upon 
what  do  these  creations  of  our  genius  depend? 
Upon  force.  Jesus,  alone,  founded  His  empire 
upon  love,  and  to  this  very  day  millions  would  die 
for  Him.  ...  I  think  I  understand  something  of 
human  nature  ;  and  I  tell  you,  all  these  were  men  ; 
and  I  am  a  man  :  none  else  is  like  Him  1  Jesus 
Christ  was  more  than  man. 

— Napoleon  /. ,  1769-1821. 

(3354.)  A  friend  of  mine  was  desired  to  visit  a 
woman  in  prison  ;  he  was  informed  of  her  evil 
habits  of  life,  and  therefore  spoke  strongly  of  the 
terrors  of  the  Lord,  and  the  curses  of  the  law  :  she 
heard  him  a  while,  and  then  lautjhed  in  his  face. 
Upon  this  he  changed  his  note,  and  spoke  of  the 
Saviour,  and  what  He  had  done  and  suffered  for 
sinners.  He  had  not  talked  long  in  this  strain 
before  he  saw  a  tear  or  two  in  her  eyes.  At  length 
she  interrupted  him  by  saying  :  "  Why,  sir,  do  you 
think  there  can  be  any  hope  of  mercy  for  me?" 
He  answered,  "  Yes,  if  you  feel  your  need  of  it, 
and  are  willing  to  seek  it  in  God's  appointed  way. 
1  am  sure  it  is  as  free  for  you  as  for  myself."  She 
replied,  "  Ah,  if  1  had  thought  so,  I  should  not 
have  been  in  this  prison.  I  long  since  settled  it  in 
my  mind  that  I  was  utterly  lost  ;  that  I  had  sinned 
beyond  all  possibility  of  forgiveness,  and  that  made 
me  desperate,"  Newton,  1606-1663. 

(3355.)  Two  of  my  brethren,  John  WaterhouM 
and  David  Cargill,  landed  upon  an  island  in  Fejee. 
They  knew  well  the  character  of  the  people  there, 
and  the  people  did  not  know  their  character  ;  but 
they  met  them  naked,  and  clubbed,  and  scowling, 
ready  to  destroy  to  all  appearance.  The  two  white 
men  walked  straight  up  to  them,  and  the  first,  who 
evidently  was  a  chief,  and  ready  to  take  part  in  the 
proceedings  whatever  they  might  be,  was  suddenly 
arrested  in  his  intentions  towards  the  white  men  by 
Mr.  Cargill  walking  up  to  him  and  bowing,  and 
saying,  "My  love  to  you  ;"  and  he  turned  round 
to  the  next,  and  said,  "  My  love  to  you  ;  "  and  then 
to  the  rest,  "My  love  to  you  ; "  and  in  a  very  little 
time  all  the  clubs  were  down,  and  they  began  to 
talk,  and  then  there  was  an  opportunity  for  them 
to  stay  and  then  to  preach.  In  a  few  years  Mr. 
Cargill  was  leaving  that  island,  and  one  of  these 
great  savages  followed  the  boat,  holding  out  a 
pretty  little  thing  he  had  made,  and  said  "  Wait, 
wait ;  1  want  you  to  take  this  home  to  your  mother. 
Gicat  is  my  love  to  your  mother.  This  is  not 
much,  but  I  made  it  with  my  own  hand  ;  carry  it 
home  to  your  mother.  Tell  her  before  you  came 
1  was  a  cannibal,  and  killed  men  and  ate  them,  bui 
now  the  love  of  God  is  burning  in  my  heart ;  and 
if    your    mother    had    not    loved    me  and   let    you 


LOVE. 


(    563    ) 


LOVE. 


ccme  to  tell  me  tliat  Christ  had  died,  I  should  have 
been  a  cannibal  to  tl;is  day.  Great  is  my  love  to 
your  mother.  Take  this  home  to  your  mother  for 
me."  — Arthur. 

(3356.)  A  minister  in  one  of  our  large  cities  had 
prepared  and  preached,  as  he  supposed,  a  most 
convincing  sermon  for  the  fecial  benefit  of  an 
influential  member  of  his  com^regation,  who  was 
well  known  to  be  of  an  infidel  turn  of  mind.  The 
sinner  li.-)lened  unmoved  to  the  well-turned  sentences 
and  the  earnest  appeals  ;  his  heart  was  unaffected. 
On  his  return  from  church  he  saw  a  tear  trembling 
in  the  eye  of  his  little  daughter,  whom  he  tenderly 
loved,  and  he  inquired  the  caus'.  The  child  in- 
formed him  that  she  was  thinking  of  what  her 
babbath-school  teacher  had  told  her  of  Jesus  Christ. 
"And  what  did  she  tell  you  of  Jesus  Christ,  my 
child?"  "Why,  she  said  He  came  down  from 
heaven  and  died  for  poor  me!"  and  in  a  moment 
the  tears  gushed  Irom  eyes  which  had  looked  upon 
the  beauties  of  only  seven  summers,  as  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  childhood  she  added  :  "  Father,  should  I 
not  love  One  who  has  so  loved  me  ?  "  The  proud 
heart  of  the  mtidel  was  touched.  What  the  elo- 
quent plea  of  his  minister  could  not  accomplish, 
the  tender  sentence  01  his  child  had  done,  and  he 
retired  to  give  vent  to  his  own  feelings  in  a  silent 
but  penitent  prayer.  'I'hat  evening  lound  him  at 
the  praying  circle,  where,  with  brokenness  of  spirit, 
he  asked  the  prayers  of  God's  people.  When  he 
came  to  relate  his  Christian  experience,  he  gave 
this  incident,  and  closed  his  narration  by  saying  : 
'■  Under  God,  1  owe  my  conversion  to  a  little 
child,  who  first  convinced  me  by  her  artless  sim- 
plicity that  1  ougiit  to  love  One  who  had  so  loved 
me."  The  mnubleron  returning  from  this  meeting, 
took  his  sermon  and  read  it  over  carelully,  and  said 
to  his  family  and  to  himself  :  "  There  is  not  enough 
of  Jesus  Christ  in  this  discourse." 

VI.    LOVE  TO  GOD. 

1.  God  must  be  loved  for  His  own  sake. 

{3357.)  All  our  love  is  moved  from  some  good, 
which  we  apprehend  in  the  party  loved  :  carnal 
love,  from  beauty  ;  worldly,  from  gain  ;  spiritual, 
from  grace ;  divine,  from  inhnite  goodness.  It 
must  needs  be,  therefore,  that  when  the  ground  and 
motive  of  our  love  laileth,  the  affection  itself  must 
cease.  Those  that  are  enamoured  of  a  beautiful 
face  find  their  passion  cooled  with  a  loathsome  de- 
formity :  those  that  are  led  by  the  hopes  of  prolit, 
like  wasps,  leave  buzzing  about  the  gally-pot,  when 
all  the  honey  is  gone  ;  those  that  could  carry  the 
rod  familiarly  in  their  hand,  run  from  it  when  they 
see  it  turned  to  a  serpent.  Contrarily,  when  that 
which  attracts  our  love  is  constant  to  itself  and 
everlasting,  the  affection  set  upon  it  is  permanent 
and  eternal  :  if  then  I  love  God  for  riches,  for  pre- 
ferment, lor  my  own  indemnity,  when  intervening 
crosses  strip  me  of  the  hopes  ol  all  these,  I  shall  be 
ready  to  say,  with  that  distempered  king  of  Israel, 
"  Behold,  this  evil  is  of  the  Lord  :  what  should  I 
wait  for  the  Lord  any  longer  ?  "  (2  Kings  vi.  33).  If 
my  respects  to  my  Saviour  be  for  the  loaves  and 
fislies,  my  heart  is  carried  away  with  those  baskets 
of  fragments  ;  but,  if  1  can  love  God  for  His  good- 
ness' sake,  this  love  shall  out-lasi  tmie,  and  over- 
match death  (CaB%  iii.  6.)  Hall,  1574-1656. 


2.  How  It  is  to  be  kindled  in  the  soul. 

(3358.)  The  love  of  God  is  not  to  be  summoned 
into  l)eing  or  activity  at  a  call.  It  is  not  by  any 
simple  or  direct  effort  that  you  can  bid  it  into  any 
operation.  \'ou  can  say  to  the  hand,  Do  this,  and 
it  doeth  it,  but  we  have  no  such  mastery  over  the 
untractable  heart.  The  irue  way  of  bidding  an 
emotion  into  the  heart,  is  to  bid  into  the  mimi  its 
appropriate  and  counterpart  object.  If  I  want  to 
light  up  resentment  in  my  heart,  let  me  think  of 
the  injury  which  piovoked  it  ;  or  if  I  want  to  be 
moved  with  compassion,  let  me  dwell  on  some 
picture  of  wretchedness  ;  or  to  be  regaled  with  a 
sense  of  beauty,  let  me  look  out  of  myself  on  the 
glories  of  a  summer  landscape  ;  or,  to  stir  up  wiihin 
me  a  grateful  affection,  let  me  call  to  remembrance 
some  friendly  demonstration  of  a  kind  and  trusty 
benefactor  ;  or,  finally,  to  rekindle  in  my  cold  and 
deserted  bosom  the  love  of  God,  let  the  luve  of  God 
to  me  be  the  theme  of  my  believing  contemplation. 
— Chalmers,  17S0-1S47. 

(3359.)  The  power  to  evolve  in  one's  self  the  ele- 
ment ot  filial  love  is  not  given  to  us.  It  is  not 
needful  that  it  should  be.  Why  should  the  ane- 
mone covet  the  power  that  it  has  not?  It  sleeps 
to-day  on  the  hill-sitle.  There,  underneath  the  sod, 
a  thousand  spring  beauties  are  hidden.  Around  the 
trunks  of  living  trees,  around  deserted  stumps,  and 
around  uncongenial  stones  are  troops  of  wiUI-tioweis. 
And  not  one  of  these  can  lilt  itseli  up,  and  open  its 
petals,  or  paint  them  with  beautiful  colours.  The 
sun  has  the  power  to  do  this  ;  and  why  should  the 
flowers  covet  this  power?  For  that  sweet  orb  will 
not  forget  them.  It  is  coming  already  from  the 
South.  The  lengthening  days  mark  its  approaching 
footsteps.  And  by  and  by  it  will  reach  out  its 
sceptre  of  light  and  warmth,  and  say  to  them, 
"  Come  forth  !  "  and  every  one  that  lies  dormant 
within  the  ground  shall  rejoice,  and  begin  to  come 
forth.  God  has  garnered  up  the  power  of  the 
resurrection  oi  the  flowers  in  the  sun,  and  there  is 
no  need  that  they  should  covet  that  power.  And 
why  should  we  covet  the  power  to  Hit  up  our  souls, 
and  cause  them  to  blossom  into  higher  affections  ? 
If  God  has  not  lent  it  to  us  we  need  not  covet  it, 
and  we  do  not  need  to  add  it  to  our  prerogatives. 
God  never  forgets  to  touch  ihe  heart  with  the 
sceptre  of  Divine  love,  and  if  we  heeded  it,  and 
were  half  as  obedient  to  it  as  the  flower  is  to  the 
life-giving  influence  of  the  sun  in  spring,  we  should 
be  like  the  garden  of  the  Lord.  — Beecher. 

(3360.)  We  have  brought  near  to  us  in  Jesus 
Christ  a  God  whose  nature  it  is  to  be  bountiful, 
tender,  sweet,  beautiful,  so  that  when  we  begin  to 
see  the  traits  that  are  in  Him,  they  draw  out  the 
same  traits  in  us.  We  love  because  lie  has  loved 
us. 

If  you  go  into  Steinway's  manufactory  or  ware- 
room,  and  strike  certain  chords  of  one  of  the 
powerful  instruments,  the  chords  of  all  the  other 
instruments,  though  they  are  covered  up,  and 
apparently  mute,  will  sound.  Such  are  the  corre- 
spondences which  exist  between  them,  such  is  the 
sympathy  wliich  is  communicated  from  one  to 
another  by  the  air,  that  when  one  vibrates  they  all 
vibrate.  Though  the  sound  be  low  and  almost 
inaudible,  it  is  there.  When  the  grandeur,  the 
beauiy,  and  the  love  of  the  divine  natue  are  pre- 
sented to  a  man,   they  draw  some  response    from 


LOVE. 


(    564    ) 


LOVE. 


every  part  of  his  nature  which  corresponds  to  tliat 
which  is  presented.  So  it  is  that  there  begins  to 
be,  through  this  conception  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus, 
a  piety  which  is  in  the  nature  of  a  personal  com- 
munion or  affiHation.  The  hearts  of  men  are  thus 
drawn  toward  the  heart  of  God,  and  there  begins  to 
be  an  interplay  between  them.  — Beecher. 

(3361.)  This  highest  of  all  possible  love  can  only 
be  produced  by  the  quickening  action  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  It  is  out  of  the  groundwork  of  the  natural 
affections  that  the  Christian  love  is  produced,  but  it 
cannot  exist  without  the  direct  action  of  Goil  upon 
the  heart.  In  the  cold  northern  climes  enough  lood 
is  jiroduced  for  the  subsistence  of  man.  The  com- 
mon fruits  of  the  field  grow  in  sufficient  abundance 
to  support  life.  But  the  productions  of  holler 
countries — the  grape,  the  olive,  tlie  fig — will  not 
thrive  there.  '1  he  soil  is  the  same  in  both.  But  in 
the  cold  countries  the  lile-giving  rays  of  the  sun  are 
wanting.  It  is  also  thus  with  man.  'Ihe  heart  and 
its  affections  are  the  same  in  all  of  us.  Amongst 
the  whole  human  race,  love  and  its  kindred  virtues 
flourish  sufficiently  to  enable  people  to  live  with 
comfort  in  each  other's  society.  But  the  highest 
love — the  love  of  God — can  only  flourish  in  the  sun- 
shine of  His  grace.  — Hooper. 

(3362.)  Frequently  at  the  great  Roman  games, 
the  emperors,  in  order  to  gratify  the  citizens  of 
Rome,  would  cause  sweet  perfumes  to  be  rained 
down  upon  them  through  the  awning  which  covered 
the  anijjhilheatre.  Behold  the  vases,  the  huge 
vessels  of  perfume  !  Yes,  but  there  is  nought  here 
to  delight  you  so  long  as  the  jars  are  sealed  ;  but  let 
the  vases  be  opened,  and  the  vessels  be  poured  out, 
and  let  the  drops  of  perfumed  rain  begin  to  descend, 
and  every  one  is  refreshed  and  gratified  thereby. 
Such  is  the  love  of  God.  There  is  a  richness  and  a 
fulness  in  it,  but  it  is  not  perceived  till  the  Spirit  of 
God  pours  it  out  like  the  rain  of  fragrance  over  the 
liL-ads  and  hearts  of  all  the  living  children  of  God. 
See,  then,  the  need  of  having  the  love  of  God  shed 
abroad  in  the  heart  by  the  iioly  Ghost  ! 

—Spnrgion. 

3.  It  is  capatle  of  being  cultivated, 

(3363.)  We  assume  that,  simply  because  it  is  en- 
joined. When  an  apostle  says,  "  Have  fervent 
charity  among  yourselves,"  it  is  plain  that  it  would 
be  a  cruel  mockery  to  command  men  to  attain  it  if 
they  could  do  nothing  towards  the  attainment.  It 
would  be  the  same  insult  as  saying  to  the  deformed, 
"  Be  beautiful.'  For  it  is  wanton  cruelty  to  com- 
mand where  obedience  is  impossible. 

How  shall  we  cultivate  this  charity? 

Now  I  observe,  first,  love  cannot  be  produced  by 
a  direct  action  of  the  soul  upon  itself.  You  cannot 
love  by  a  resolve  to  love.  That  is  as  impossible  as 
it  is  to  move  a  boat  by  pressing  it  from  within. 
The  force  with  which  you  press  on  is  exactly  equal 
to  that  with  which  you  press  back.  The  reaction 
is  exactly  equal  to  the  action.  You  force  back- 
wards exactly  as  much  as  you  force  on.  There  are 
religious  persons  who,  when  they  feel  their  affec- 
tions cooled,  strive  to  warm  ihem  by  self-reproach, 
or  by  unnatural  eflorts,  or  by  the  excileme-it  of 
what  they  call  revivals— trying  to  work  themselves 
into  a  state  of  warm  affection.  There  are  others 
who  hope  to  make  feeble  love  strong  by  using  strong 
words.  Now,  for  all  this  they  pay  a  price.  Eflorf 
of  heart    is  followed    by  collapse.      Excitement   i.s 


followed  by  exhaustion.  They  will  find  that  they 
have  cooled  exactly  in  that  proportion  in  which  they 
warmed,  and  at  least  as  fast. 

It  is  as  impossible  for  a  man  to  work  himself  into 
a  state  of  genuine  fervent  love  as  it  is  for  a  man  to 
inspire  himself.  Inspiration  is  a  breatii  and  a  life 
coming  from  without.  Love  is  a  feeling  roused  not 
from  ourselves,  but  from  something  outside  our- 
selves. There  are,  however,  two  methods  by  which 
we  may  cultivate  this  charily. 

1.  By  doing  acts  which  love  demands.  It  is 
God's  merciful  law  that  feelings  are  increased  by 
acts  done  on  principle.  If  a  man  has  not  the  feel- 
ing in  it.i  warmth,  let  him  not  wail  till  the  feeling 
Comes.  Let  him  act  with  such  feelings  as  he  has  ; 
with  a  cold  heart  if  he  has  not  got  a  warm  one  ;  it 
will  grow  warmer  while  he  acts.  You  may  love  a 
man  merely  because  you  have  done  him  benefits, 
and  so  become  interested  in  him,  till  interest  passes 
into  anxiety,  and  anxiety  into  affection.  You  may 
acquire  courtesy  of  feeling  at  last,  by  cultivating 
courteous  manner.  The  dignified  politeness  of  the 
last  century  forced  man  into  a  kind  of  unselfishness 
in  small  things,  which  the  abrupter  manners  of  to- 
day will  never  teach.  And  say  what  men  will  of 
rude  sincerity,  these  old  men  of  urbane  manners 
were  kinder  at  heart  with  real  good-will,  than  we 
are  with  that  rude  bluffness  which  counts  it  a  loss  of 
independence  to  be  courteous  to  any  one.  Gentle- 
ness of  manner  had  some  influence  on  gentleness  of 
heart. 

So  in  the  same  way,  it  is  in  things  spiritual.  If 
our  hearts  are  Cold,  and  we  find  it  hard  to  love  God 
and  be  affectionate  to  man,  we  must  begin  with 
duty.  Duly  is  not  Christian  liberty,  but  it  is  the 
first  step  towards  liberty.  We  are  free  only  when 
we  love  what  we  are  to  do,  and  those  to  whom  we 
do  it.  Let  a  man  begin  in  earnest  with — I  ought,  he 
will  end.  by  God's  grace,  if  he  persevere,  with  the 
free  blessedness  of — 1  will.  Let  him  force  himself 
to  abound  in  small  offices  of  kindliness,  attention, 
affectionateness,  and  all  those  for  Ciod's  sake.  By 
and  by  he  will  feel  them  become  the  haliit  of  his 
soul.  By  and  by,  walking  in  the  conscientiousness  of 
refusing  to  retaliate  when  he  feels  tempted,  he  will 
cease  to  wish  it  ;  doing  good  and  heaping  kindness 
on  those  who  injure  him,  he  will  learn  to  love  them. 
For  he  has  spent  a  treasure  there,  "And  where  the 
treasure  is,  there  will  be  the  heart  also." 

2.  The  second  way  of  cultivating  Christian  love 
is  by  contemplating  the  love  of  God.  You  cannot 
move  the  boat  from  within  ;  but  you  may  obtain  a 
purchase  from  without.  You  c.innot  create  love  in 
the  soul  by  force  from  within  itself;  but  you  may 
move  it  from  a  point  outside  itself.  God's  love  is 
the  point  from  which  to  move  the  soul.  Love 
begets  love.  Love  believed  in,  produces  a  return 
of  love  ;  we  cannot  love  because  we  must.  "  Must  " 
kills  love  ;  but  the  law  of  our  nature  is  that  we  love 
in  reply  to  love.  No  one  ever  yet  hated  one  whom 
he  believed  to  love  him  truly.  We  may  be  pro- 
voked by  the  pertinacity  of  an  afiection  which  asks 
what  we  cannot  give  ;  but  we  cannot  hate  the  true 
love  which  does  not  ask  but  gives.  Now,  this  is 
the  eternal  truth  of  Christ's  Gospel,  "  We  love  Him 
because  He  first  loved  us."  "Beloved,  if  God  so 
loved  us,  we  ought  also  to  love  one  another." 
"  God  is  love."  — Robertson,  1S16-1S53. 

4.  Leads  to  trust  in  God. 

{3364- )  Let  a  man  try  to  learn  God's  ways  onlj^ 


LOVE. 


(    565    ) 


LOVE. 


by  his  intellect,  and  he  will  find  many  things  to 
perplex  and  embarrass.  There  is  much  in  God's 
government  of  this  world  that  is  quite  unfathomable 
to  human  reason.  In  a  world  like  this  scepticism 
is  easier  than  faith.  If  any  man  wish  to  stumble 
at  God's  ways,  he  may  easily  find  stund)ling  stones. 
He  may  point  to  many  of  God's  dealinj^s  which 
bear  the  oppearance  of  unkindness  and  injustice  ; 
he  may  point  to  much  that  the  most  godly  man 
must  confess  is  semiini^ly  inconsistent  with  infinite 
justice  and  love.  The  godly  man  sees  difiicullies 
in  the  Divine  government  as  well  as  the  infidel  ; 
but  he  is  not  distressed  by  them,  permanently  at 
least,  for  "  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  his 
heart  by  ihe  Holy  Ghost  given  unto  him  ;"  he  has 
such  a  deep  and  abiding  conviction  of  God's  in- 
finite love,  that  he  cannot  beiieve  Him  guilty  of 
unkindness,  much  less  of  injustice  ;  he  knows  that 
there  must  be,  and  is,  a  satisfactory  explanation  of 
•.hese  difficulties,  and  he  is  content  to  wait  until 
God  chooses  to  give  him  the  explanation.  '1  ake  an 
illustration.  Here  is  a  little  child,  whose  father  is 
suddenly  accused  of  some  terrible  crime.  Though 
the  accused  has  hitherto  borne  a  good  name,  the 
proofs  of  his  guilt  seem  so  numerous  and  conclusive 
that  even  his  dearest  friends  abandon  and  shun 
him.  But  the  little  child  does  not  believe  his  father 
guilty.  "No,"  says  he,  "I  know  my  fathers 
heart,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  never  did  that." 
In  like  manner,  by  tlie  intuiiicn  of  love,  the  C'hris- 
tian  has  a  settled  and  immovable  conviction  that 
ultimately  nothing  can  ever  throw  the  shadow  of  a 
shade  over  God's  iufmite  goodness.  — Davis. 

6.  A  test  or  its  reality. 

(3365.)  A  loving  wife,  when  her  husband  returns 
home  from  a  far  country,  as  soon  as  she  is  sensible  of 
his  approach  or  hears  his  voice,  although  she  be  ever 
so  much  engaged  in  business,  or  forcibly  detained 
from  him  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd,  yet  her  heart  is 
not  withheld  from  him,  but  leaps  over  all  other 
thoughts  to  think  on  her  husband  who  is  returned. 
It  is  the  same  with  souls  that  love  God  ;  well,  let 
them  be  ever  so  busy,  when  the  remembrance  of 
God  comes  near  them,  they  lose  almost  the  thought 
of  all  things  else,  lor  joy  to  see  that  this  dear  re- 
membrance is  returned ;  and  this  is  an  extreme 
good  sign.  — Inlands  de  Sales. 

6.  Comfort  for  tliose  who  lament  that  it  is  feeble 
In  them. 

(3366.)  Let  not  a  humble  Christian  be  over- 
anxious, if  his  spiritual  affections  are  not  as  keen  as 
he  would  wish.  The  love  of  God  is  the  full-blown 
flower  of  which  the  love  of  man  is  the  bud.  To  love 
man  is  to  love  God.  To  do  good  to  man  will  be 
recognised  hereafter  as  doing  good  to  Christ. 
These  are  the  Judge's  words  :  "Verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  inasmuch  as  )e  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these  my  brethren,  ye  did  unto  Me." 

— Robertson,  1816-1853. 

VII.  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.  [See  also  1003, 
1004.] 

(3367O  We  would  please  those  whom  we  greatly 
love.  No  praises  are  as  sweet  as  theirs.  We  can 
bear  the  frown  of  otners  if  they  only  smile.  We 
often  care  lor  no  other  compensation  for  toil,  and 
pain,  and  sufi'ering  than  their  approval.  The  affec- 
tionate child  who  contends  at  sciiool  or  college  for 
ftome    piize    cf    youthfu'    atubition,    knows    of    no 


stimulant  to  his  industry  and  exertion  like  that 
which  he  feels  when  he  thinks  what  may  be  the  joy 
one  day  of  father  and  mother,  brother  and  sister, 
on  his  account.  When  he  has  succeeded  in  the  strife 
he  is  not  moved  by  the  commenilaiion  of  his 
teachers,  or  the  plaudits  of  his  companions,  as  he 
is  by  what  he  knows  will  be  thought,  and  telt,  and 
said  at  home.  The  man  who  has  won  renown  by 
his  service  to  his  country  and  to  mankind,  has 
often  confessed  that  no  honours  he  has  received 
have  so  recompensed  his  heart  for  what  he  had 
achieved,  as  the  greetings  which  welcomed  him  in 
the  little  town  or  village  where  he  was  born  and 
reared.  He  has  felt  that  the  delight  in  his  triumph 
of  those  who  were  dear  to  him  through  old  memories 
and  associations,  or  even  that  the  joy  he  has  given 
to  one  heart,  the  exulting  smile  on  one  face,  the 
approving  glad  words  that  fell  from  one  tongue, 
were  worth  more  to  him  than  all  acclamations  and 
gifts  besides.  It  is  of  the  nature  of  true  love  thus 
to  prize  the  joy  and  approval  of  its  object.  But 
there  is  no  true  love,  or  so  great,  as  that  which 
Christ  can  inspire. 

— David  Thomas,  B. A.,  1811-1875. 

(3368.)  Is  there  no  sin  in  not  doing  what  you  ought 
to  do  ?  If  your  neighbour's  house  were  in  flames 
to-night,  and  you  saw  them  belching  out  ol  the 
windows,  would  it  be  no  sin  for  you  to  sit  calmly  in 
your  own  dwelling,  and  not  go  at  midnight  to  raise 
the  family  from  their  fiital  sleep  ?  Would  you  think 
so  if  to-morrow  morning  you  looked  at  theii 
skeletons  amid  the  charred  and  blackened  ruins? 
Suppose  there  is  some  man  in  this  chapel  to-night,, 
who  lives  in  a  comfortable  and  luxurious  mansion, 
but  his  own  mother  is  in  an  almshouse,  I  say  to 
him,  "  Where  is  your  old  mother  ?"  lie  says,  "  In 
the  poorhouse."  ''  Uo  you  know,  sir,  that  you  are 
practising  a  diabolical  cruelty?"  "Oh!  but  1  am 
doing  nothing  to  my  mother."  "  It  is  your  not 
doing  ;  it  is  your  living  in  luxury,  and  she  lying 
there  on  that  hard  bed  of  poverty  and  neglect,  that 
stamps  you,  sir,  with  that  most  damnable  sin  of 
breaking  Goii's  fifth  commandment.  It  is  what 
you  do  not  do  that  stamps  you  as  an  ingrate  to  her 
that  bore  you."  Oh  !  my  friends,  yet  out  ol  Christ- 
it  is  the  sin  of  not  loving  Christ  that  makes  you 
guilty  before  God.  Not  loving  Him  is  pronounced 
in  all  cases  a  positive  and  fatal  sin.         — Ctt)ler. 

(3369.)  Where  Christ  is  loved  and  desire\I,  the 
veriest  trifles  of  common  life  maybe  ihe  means  of 
His  discovery.  "  And  it  came  to  pass,  as  Jesus  sat 
at  meat  with  them.  He  took  bread  and  blessed  it, 
and  brake  and  gave  to  them.  And  their  eyes  were 
opened,  and  they  knew  Him. 

We  know  not  what  was  the  special  point  which 
brought  their  dormant  remembrance  to  life  again, 
and  quickened  their  associations,  so  that  they  knew 
Him  ;  even  as  we  do  not  know  what  was  the  hind- 
rance, whether  supernatural  01  whether  by  reason 
of  their  o\\n  fault,  which  prevented  the  earlier 
recognition  ;  but  this  at  least  we  see,  that  in  all 
probability  something  in  the  manner  of  taking  the 
bread  and  breaking  it,  the  well-remembered  action 
of  the  Master,  brought  back  to  mind  the  whole  of 
the  former  relation,  and  a  rush  ol  associations  and 
memories  pulled  away  the  veil  and  scaled  off  tk4 
mists  from  their  eyes.  And  so,  dear  brethren,  if 
we  have  loving  and  waiting  and  Christ-desiring 
spirits,  everything  in  this  world — the  common  meal, 


LOVE. 


(    S66    ) 


LOVE. 


the  events  of  every  day,  the  most  veritable  trifles  of 
our  earthly  relationships— they  will  all  have  hooks 
and  barbs,  as  it  were,  which  will  draw  after  them 
thoughts  of  Him.  There  is  nothing  so  small  but 
that  to  it  there  may  be  attached  some  filament 
which  will  bring  after  it  the  whole  majesty  and 
grace  of  Christ  and  His  love.  Whether  ye  eat  or 
drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  in  remembrance 
of  Him,  and  do  all  to  His  glory.  Oh,  if  we  had  in 
our  inmost  spirits  a  closer  fellowship  with  Him, 
and  a  truer  relation  to  Him,  we  should  be  more 
quick  of  apprehension.  And,  as  in  regard  to  those 
that  we  love,  when  they  are  away  from  us,  the  fold 
of  a  garment,  some  bit  of  cloth  lying  about  the 
room,  something  upon  the  table,  some  common 
incident  of  the  day  that  used  to  be  done  in  company 
with  them,  may  bring  a  flood  of  memories  that 
sometimes  is  loo  strong  for  a  weak  heart,  so  with 
the  Lord,  if  we  loved  Him — everything  would  be 
(as  it  is  to  those  whose  ears  are  purged)  vocal  with 
His  name,  and  everything  would  Ije  flushed  with 
the  light  that  falls  from  His  face,  and  everything 
would  sufiice  to  remind  us  of  our  love,  our  hope, 
our  joy.  — Maclaren. 

VIII.    LOVE  TO  THE  BRETHREN. 

1.  Is  the  badge  of  Clulst's  disciples. 

(3370.)  So  peculiar  is  this  blessing  to  the  gospel, 
that  Christ  appoints  it  for  tlie  badge  and  cognizance 
by  which  they  should  not  only  know  one  another, 
but  even  strangers  should  be  able  to  know  them 
from  any  other  sect  and  sort  of  men  in  the  world  : 
"  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  dis- 
ciples, that  ye  love  one  another."  A  nobleman's 
servant  is  known  as  far  as  he  can  well  be  seen,  by 
the  coat  on  his  back,  whose  man  he  is  ;  so,  saith 
Christ,  shall  all  men  know  you,  by  your  mutual 
love,  that  you  retain  to  Me  and  My  gospel. 

— Gurnall,  16 17-1679. 

2.  Our  love  must  be  like  Christ's. 

{3371.)  We  are  to  have  love  like  that  of  Christ. 
In  one  sense  this  is  impossible.  "  Measure  the 
waters  in  the  hollow  of  Thine  hand  ;  mete  out 
heaven  with  a  span  ;  comprehend  the  dust  of  the 
earth  in  a  measure  ;  weigh  the  mountains  in  scales  ; 
and  the  hills  in  a  balance  ;  " — these  are  measurable 
things,  but  the  love  of  Christ  is  measureless.  There 
is  nothing  in  His  nature  which  is  not  infinite.  The 
depths  of  God  are  depths  of  love,  for  God  is  love, 
and  Christ  is  God.  His  perfections  are  His  glory, 
but  His  love  is  the  glory  of  His  glory  ;  the  bound- 
less glory  of  the  boundless  Essence.  Till  the  less 
can  include  the  greater,  and  the  human  the  Divine, 
we  may  not  fathom  the  depths,  or  grasp  the  dimen- 
sions of  Christ's  love.  Then,  how  can  we  keep  ihis 
law?  To  love  like  Paul— to  love  like  John  — 
would  be  a  lofty  aim,  but  who  can  love  like 
Christ? 

Let  us  not  mistake  His  meaning.  He  asks  not 
that  our  love  should  equal  His,  but  resemble  His; 
not  that  it  should  be  of  the  same  strength,  but  of 
the  same  kind.  A  pearl  of  dew  will  not  hold  the 
sun,  but  it  may  hold  a  spark  of  its  light.  A  child,  by 
the  sea,  trying  to  catcli  the  waves  as  they  dash  in 
clouds  of  crystal  spray  upon  the  sand,  cannot  hold 
the  ocean  in  a  tiny  shell,  but  he  may  hold  a  drop 
af  the  ocean  water.     "  There  is  an  ocean  of  love  in 


my  heart,"  says  Christ,  "let  a  drop  of  that  ocean 
be  received  into  yours.  Your  love  one  to  another 
must  not  be  a  mere  earthly  element.  It  must  have 
a  different  nature  from  the  love  you  were  born  with. 
It  must  be  something  higher  than  love  of  kindred — 
or  love  of  home — or  love  of  country  ;  it  must  be  of 
the  same  kind  as  that  which  1  have  for  you.  It 
must  be  Divine.  Let  me  pour  it  into  you,  that  you 
may  pour  it  out  on  the  objects  of  your  sanctilied 
affections."  — Stanford. 

3.  We  must  love  what  Is  Christ-like  In  them. 

(3372)  But  doth  not  the  Scripture  say,  "  that 
we  know  we  are  translated  from  death  to  life,  be- 
cause  we  love  the  brethren  "? 

Answer — Yes ;  but  when  you  may  easily  know  it 
speaks  of  sincere  love.  So  it  saith,  "  Whoevei 
believeth  shall  be  saved;"  and  yet  (Matt,  xiii.) 
Christ  showeth  that  many  believe  who  yet  fall  away 
and  perish,  for  want  of  deep  rooting  :  so  that  the 
sincerity  of  this  love  also  lieth  in  the  degree  ;  ard, 
therefore,  when  the  promise  is  made  to  it,  or  it 
made  a  mark  of  true  Christians,  you  must  still 
understand  it  of  that  degree  which  may  be  called 
sincere  and  saving.  The  difference  lieih  plainly 
here.  An  unsound  Christian,  as  he  hath  some  love 
to  Christ,  and  grace,  and  godliness,  but  more  to  his 
profits,  or  pleasures,  or  credit  in  the  world,  so  he 
hath  some  love  to  the  godly,  as  such,  being  con- 
vinced that  the  righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his 
neighbour;  but  not  so  much  as  he  hath  to  these 
carnal  things.  Whereas  the  sound  Christian,  as  he 
loves  Christ  and  grace  above  all  worldly  things,  so 
it  is  Christ  in  a  Christian  that  he  so  loves,  and  the 
Christian  for  Christ's  sake  above  all  such  things : 
so  that  when  a  carnal  professor  will  think  it  enough 
to  wish  them  well,  but  will  not  hazard  his  worldly 
happiness  for  them,  if  he  were  called  to  it ;  the 
sincere  believer  will  not  only  love  them,  but  relieve 
them,  and  value  them  so  highly,  that,  if  he  were 
called  to  it,  he  would  part  with  his  prolits  or 
pleasures,  for  their  sakes.  Fer  example,  in  Queen 
Mary's  days,  when  the  martyrs  were  condemned  to 
the  fire,  there  were  many  great  men  that  really 
loved  them,  and  wished  them  well,  and  their  heart 
grieved  in  pity  for  them,  as  knowing. them  to  be  in 
the  right ;  but  yet  they  loved  their  honour,  and 
wealth,  and  safety,  so  much  better,  that  they  would 
sit  on  the  bench,  yea,  and  give  sentence  lor  their 
burning,  for  fear  of  hazardmg  their  worldly  happi- 
ness. Was  this  sincere,  saving  love  to  the 
brethren?  — Baxter^  161 5-1 691. 

4.  'We  are  to  love  them  on  account  of  what  they 
are  to  be. 

(3373)  Foresee  the  perfections  of  their  graces  in 
their  beginnings.  No  man  will  love  a  seed  or 
stock  of  those  plants  or  trees  whiih  bear  the  most 
beautiful  flowers  and  fruits,  unless,,  in  the  seed,  he 
foresee  the  fruit  or  flower  which  it  tendeth  to.  No 
man  loveth  the  egg  aright,  who  doth  not  foreknow 
what  a  bird  it  will  bring  forth.  Aristotle  or  Cicero 
were  no  more  amiable  in  their  infancy  than  other^ 
except  to  him  that  could  foretell  what  men  they 
were  like  to  prove.  Think  oft  of  heaven,  and  what 
a  thing  a  saint  will  be  in  glory,  when  he  shali 
shine  as  the  stars,  and  be  equal  to  the  angels,  and 
then  you  will  quickly  see  cause  to  love  iliem. 

— Baxter,  161S-169I., 


MAN. 


(    567     ) 


MAN. 


MAN. 

I.  The  Darwinian  hypothesis  ai  to  bis  origin. 

(3374.)  Many  able  scientists  are  investigating  the 
road  through  which  men  came  up  to  their  present 
state;  but  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  me  where 
r  came  fr'im.  It  is  of  a  great  deal  of  consequence, 
though,  where  1  am  going  to.  I  confe-^s  to  some 
curiosity  as  to  my  origin  ;  and  I  am  far  from  saying 
that  it  will  not  do  any  good  to  trace  the  history  ol 
the  origin  of  the  human  race,  and  of  everytliing 
else  in  this  world.  I  regard  the  labours  of  Mr. 
Darwin  with  profound  interest  ;  and  I  believe  the 
world  owes  him  a  great  debt  of  gratitude.  Al- 
though I  may  not  accept  all  his  speculatinns,  1 
thank  him  for  any  facts,  or  any  deductions  from 
facts,  which  have  the  appearance  of  nearly  definite 
truth.  I  do  not  pai  ticipate  a  particle  in  tlie  revul- 
sion and  horror  which  some  feel  at  the  idea  that 
men  sprang  from  some  lower  form  of  existence. 
Only  show  me  that  /  am  clear  of  the  monkeys,  and 
I  am  perfectly  willing  that  it  should  be  true  that, 
millions  of  years  ago,  my  ancestors  sprang  from 
them.  Let  there  be  difference  enough,  and  distance 
enough,  between  these  animals  and  me,  and  I  do 
not  care  how  nearly  my  progenitors  may  have  been 
related  to  them.  I  would  as  lief  have  sprung  from 
a  monkey  as  from  some  men  that  I  know  of.  If  1 
look  at  the  Patagonians,  or  the  Nootka  Sound 
Indians,  or  the  Esquimaux  of  the  extreme  North,  it 
does  not  seem  to  me  that  there  is  much  to  choose, 
as  to  parentage,  between  them  and  our  lower 
animals.  I  do  not  care  so  much  about  the  past,  as 
I  do  about  the  future.  It  is  not  of  the  slightest 
importance  that  I  should  trace  my  eai  ly  associa- 
tions back  to  a  million  years  ago.  Ail  my  life  is 
looking  forward.  I  do  not  care  where  I  came 
from  :  I  want  to  know  where  I  am  going.  If 
I  am  going  with  the  animal,  earth  to  e.utli,  that 
is  sad  enough;  but  if  I  am  under  that  atiraction, 
that  mighty  power,  which  calls  the  sin  to  make 
summer  in  the  bosom  of  winter,  which  all  the  winds 
and  ice  cannot  resist,  which  generates  iieat,  and 
which  out  of  heat  brings  life-univerfal,  infinite, 
multitudinous,  innumerable — if  I  am  under  that 
power,  and  it  is  still  drawing  you  and  me  and  all 
aloi.g  in  these  paths,  and  it  is  vouchsafed  that  we 
may  be  partakers  of  the  Divine  nature,  then  that  is 
something  that  I  want  to  know,  and  something  that 
1  want  to  feel. 

Now,  let  men  bore  in  the  rear  if  they  will  ;  it  is 
for  me  to  look  up  and  see  where  I  am  going.  For, 
if  it  is  life  and  immortality,  and  joy  ineffable  and 
full  of  glory  there,  I  care  not  for  the  nest.  I  care 
not  for  the  skin  that  I  sloughed  off  ages  ago.  It  is 
the  future  that  I  care  for.  'l"he  Christian  has  little 
to  fear,  I  think,  if  it  will  only  lead  on  to  this.  Not 
to  deny  the  past,  nor  to  be  indifterent  to  the  things 
of  the  past,  it  is  not  probable  that  we  shall,  in  your 
day  or  mine,  find  out  everything  that  God  ever 
thought  of  or  did.  It  is  far  more  important  that 
we  should  have  faith  in  the  future,  and  know  which 
■way  to  fly  when  we  have  the  inspiration  of  emigra 
tion,  than  that  we  should  know  what  took  placr 
myriads  of  ages  ago,  or  what  was  the  condition  ol 
the  race  then.  — Beecher. 

(3375.)  In  so  far  as  our  duties  are  concerned,  we 
are  far  more  interested  in  knowing  what  man  is, 
than  in  knowing  how  he  came  to  be  what  he  is. 
It  is  not  uninteresting  to  me  to  itnow  how  my  son 


reached  home  for  the  festivities  of  thanksgiving,  a 
of  the  holidays  :  but  it  is  lar  more  int?:resting  t« 
me  to  know  that  he  is  there,  than  to  know  by  whaj 
road  he  came.  It  may  be  of  a  good  deal  of  inte- 
rest to  know  how  some  unknown  benefactor  haa 
liquidated  the  debt  that  seemed  likely  to  sweep 
away  your  prosperity  ;  but  it  is  a  great  deal  more 
to  the  point  to  know  that  the  mortgage  is  paid  or 
lifted,  if  you  never  in  the  world  know  how  it  came 
to  be  done.  It  is  for  us  to  know  what  man  is  ;  of 
what  he  is  susce]5tible.  He  is  here.  He  exists. 
He  may  be  studied  in  his  present  condition.  He 
may  be  studied  in  all  his  possibilities.  These  are 
questions  of  more  importance  than  to  know  the 
load  vvhich  he  took  to  get  here,  or  the  influencei 
which  operated  to  bring  him  here.         — Beecher. 

2.  Is  more  than  an  animal. 

(3376.)  Man  is  not  an  organism  ;  he  is  an  intel* 
ligence  served  by  organs. 

—Sir  W.  Hamilton,  1 788-1856. 

(3377.)  There  are  striking  analogies,  nay,  even 
resemblances,  between  the  higher  oriler  of  quad- 
rupeds and  the  lower  memViers  of  the  human  family. 
"S'et  Irom  these  most  bruielike  among  men  may  be 
drawn  the  most  cogent  argument  for  the  existence 
and  indestructibleness  of  the  spiritual  element  in 
man.  Sixty  years  ago  the  half-reasoning  elephant 
or  the  tractable  and  troth-keeping  dog  niighi  have 
seemed  the  peer,  or  more,  of  tiie  unreasoning  and 
conscienceless  Hawaiian.  From  that  very  race, 
from  that  very  generation,  with  which  the  nobler 
lirutes  might  have  scorned  to  claim  kindred,  have 
been  developed  the  peers  of  saints  and  angels. 
Does  not  the  susceptibility  of  a  regeneration  so 
radical,  the  capacity  for  all  that  is  tender,  beauti- 
ful, and  glurious  in  the  humanity  of  Him  whom  we 
Christians  revere  as  the  Lord  from  heaven,  inherent 
in  even  the  lowest  types  of  our  race,  of  iiself  claim 
for  man  a  nature  which  the  brutes  around  him 
share  as  little  in  kind  as  in  degree?  Has  physical 
science  a  right  to  leave  "  the  new  man  in  Christ 
Je-us,"  which  ihe  most  squalid  savage  may  become, 
entirely  unaccounted  for  m  its  theory  of  spontaneous 
development  ?  — I'eabody. 

3.  The  grandeur  and  complexity  of  his  nature. 
(3378.)  The  grandeur  of   man's  nature   turns  to 

insignificance  all  outward  distinctions.  His  powers 
of  intellect,  of  conscience,  of  love,  of  knowing  God, 
of  perceiving  the  beautiful,  of  acting  on  his  own 
mind,  on  outward  nature,  and  on  his  fellow-crea- 
tures,— these  are  glorious  prerogatives.  Through 
the  vulgar  error  of  undervaluing  what  is  common, 
we  are  apt,  indeed,  to  pass  them  by  as  ol  jut  little 
worth.  But  as  in  the  outwartl  creation,  so  in  the 
soul,  the  common  is  the  most  precious.  Scieiic* 
and  art  may  invent  splendid  modes  of  illuminating 
the  apartments  of  the  opulent  ;  but  these  are  all 
poor  and  worthless  compared  with  the  light  which 
the  sun  sends  into  our  window.s,  which  he  pours 
fieelv,  impartially,  over  hill  and  valley,  which 
kindles  daily  the  eastern  and  western  sky  ;  and  so 
the  common  lights  of  reason,  and  conscience,  and 
love,  are  of  more  worth  and  dignity  than  the  rare 
endowments  which  give  celebrity  to  a  few. 

— Channins,  1780-1842. 

(3-^79.)  Man  is  the  highest  product  of  his  own 
hibiory.     The  discoverer  finds  nothing  so  grand  of 


MAN. 


(     568    ) 


MAN. 


»o  tail  as  himself,  notliing  so  valuable  to  him.  The 
greatest  star  is  that  at  the  little  end  of  the  telescope, 
—  tSe  star  that  is  looking,  not  looked  after,  nor 
looked  at.  — Theodore  Farker. 

(3380.)  The  essence  of  our  being,  the  mystery  in 
us  that  calls  itself  "  I," — ah,  what  words  have  we 
for  such  things?— is  a  breath  of  Heaven;  the 
Highest  Being  reveals  himself  in  man.  This  body, 
these  faculties,  this  life  of  ours,  is  it  not  all  as  a 
vesture  for  that  Unnamed?  "There  is  but  one 
temple  in  the  universe,''  says  the  devout  Novalis, 
"and  that  is  the  body  of  man.  Nothing  is  holier 
than  that  high  form.  Bending  before  men  is  a 
reverence  done  to  this  revelation  in  the  flesh.  We 
touch  heaven  when  we  lay  our  hand  on  a  human 
body  !  "  This  sounds  much  like  a  mere  flourish  of 
rhetoric  ;  but  it  is  not  so.  If  well  meditated,  it 
will  turn  out  to  be  a  scientific  fact  ;  the  expression, 
in  such  words  as  can  be  had,  of  the  actual  truth  of 
the  thing.  IVe  are  the  miracle  of  miracles, — the 
great  inscrutable  mystery  of  God.  We  cannot 
understand  it,  we  know  not  how  to  speak  of  it ;  but 
we  feel  and  know,  if  we  like,  that  it  is  verily  so. 

—  Carlyle. 

(3381.)  Hath  not  God  given  us  a  soul  to  inform 
us;  senses  to  inform  our  soul;  faculties  to  furnish 
that  soul  ;  understanding,  the  great  surveyor  of  the 
secrets  of  nature  and  grace  ;  fantasy  and  invention, 
the  master  of  the  works  ;  memory,  the  great  keeper 
or  master  of  the  rolls  of  the  soul,  a  power  that  can 
make  amends  for  the  .'jpeed  of  time,  in  causing  him 
to  leave  behind  him  those  things,  which  else  he 
Would  so  carry  away,  as  if  they  had  not  been  ;  will, 
which  is  the  lord  paramount  in  the  state  of  the  soul, 
the  commander  of  our  actions,  the  elector  of  our 
resolutions  ;  judgment,  which  is  the  great  counsellor 
of  the  will  ;  affections,  which  are  the  servants  of 
them  both  ;  a  body,  fit  to  execute  the  charge  of  the 
soul — so  wondrously  di -posed,  as  that  every  part 
hath  be^^t  opportunity  in  his  own  functions — so 
qualified  with  health  arising  from  proportion  of 
humours,  that,  like  a  watch  kept  in  good  time,  it 
goes  right,  and  is  fit  to  serve  the  soul  and  maintain 
itself.  — IJall,  1574-1656. 

(3382.)  K^  there  is  much  benst  and  some  devil  in 
man,  so  is  there  some  angel  and  some  God  in  man. 
The  beast  and  the  devil  may  be  conquered,  but  in 
this  life  never  destroyed. 

— Coleridge,  1 772- 1 834. 

(3383.)  "  In  man  there  will  be  a  layer  of  fierce 
hyena,  or  of  timid  deer,  running  through  the  nature 
in  the  most  uncertain  and  tortuous  manner.  Nero 
is  sensitive  to  poetry  and  music,  but  not  to  human 
suffering:  Marcus  Aurelius  is  tolerant  and  t;ood  to 
all  men  but  Christians."  The  Tlascalans  of  Mexico 
loved,  and  even  worshipped,  flowers ;  but  they 
were  cruel  to  excess,  and  sacrificed  human  victims 
with  savage  delight.  The  good  and  the  evil  lie 
close  together  ;  the  virtues  and  the  vices  alternate  ; 
so  is  human  power  accumulated  ;  alternately  the 
metals  and  the  rags  ;  a  terrible  Voltaic  pile.  In 
the  well-bred  animal  the  claw  is  nicely  cushioned  ; 
the  old  Adam  is  presentable, 

—A.  F.  Russell. 

4.  Was  made  In  the  Image  of  God. 

(33^4-)  There  is  one  correspondency  between 
man  and  nature  so  pre-eminently  striking,  that  it  is 


marvellous  it  has  not  found  more  frequent  mention 
in  natural  theology. 

The  Bible  tells  us  that  God  made  man  in  His 
own  image ;  science  gives  us  a  proof  of  it,  showing 
that  in  very  truth  the  ideas  of  man's  mind  are  akin 
to  the  ideas  of  the  Divine  mind. 

The  proof  is  capalile  of  very  simple  statement 

We  all  know  that  the  science  of  geometry  was 
worked  out  in  ancient  times  from  a  lew  very  simple 
principles  which  man  found  in  his  own  mind.  It 
was  worked  out  by  Kuclid  and  Archimedes  by  pure 
reasoning,  out  of  their  own  minds.  Ages  after- 
wards the  telescope  was  discovered,  and  the  courses 
of  the  phinets  and  comets  were  ascertained  ;  and 
the  Galileos  and  Newtons  beheld  with  reverent 
wonder  that  these  heavenly  bodies,  in  all  their  mazy 
revolutions,  do  obey  those  very  laws  of  geometry 
which  the  mathematician,  hundreds  of  years  before, 
had  evolved  out  of  the  necessary  condit'ons  of 
thought  involved  in  the  constitution  of  his  own 
mind. 

How  was  this  correspondency  to  be  accounted 
for  ?  those  curves  traced  on  the  sand  of  his  study 
floor,  by  an  Archimedes  found  to  be  the  very  curves 
swept  out  in  the  heavenly  spaces  by  the  mighty 
comets?  I  say  iiow  and  why  was  this?  How  was 
it  that  man  found  his  thoughts  thus  verified  in 
God's  universe? 

One  only  explanation  is  there,  that  God  liad  the 
same  thoughts,  and  chose  to  exemplify  them  In 
that  universe  ;  the  ideas  of  the  Divine  mind  and  the 
ideas  of  the  human  mind  thus  wonderfully  corre- 
sponding !  Man  made  in  the  image  of  God.  There 
is  no  other  explanation. 

6.  His  original  perfection. 

(3385.)  All  those  arts,  rarities,  and  inventions;, 
which  vulgar  minds  gaze  at,  the  ingenious  pursue, 
and  all  admire,  are  but  the  relics  of  an  intellect 
defaced  with  sin  and  time.  We  admire  it  now,  only 
as  antiquaries  do  a  piece  of  old  coin,  for  the  stamp 
it  once  bore,  and  not  for  tho^e  vanishing  lineaments 
and  disappearing  draughts  that  remain  upon  it  at 
present.  And  certainly  that  must  needs  have  been 
very  glorious,  the  decays  of  which  are  so  admirable. 
He  that  is  comely  when  old  and  decrepit,  surely  was 
very  beautiful  when  he  was  young.  An  Aristotle 
was  but  the  rubbish  of  an  Adam,  and  Athens  but 
the  rudiments  of  i'uradise. 

— Souths  1 633-1 7 16. 

6.  His  fall. 

(l.)  Us  evidences. 

(3386.)  If  you  should  see  a  house  with  its  gable 
ends  in  ruins,  with  its  bioken  pillars  lying  in 
heaped-up  confusion  on  the  ground,  half  covered  up 
with  trailmg  weeds  and  moss,  you  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  say,  "This  building  has  sufiered  damage  at 
some  time  ;  it  was  not  like  this  when  it  came  from 
the  hand  of  the  builder."  1  say  this  of  man.  He 
is  not  in  a  normal  condition.  — Hipworth. 

(3387.)  Bartholomew  Fair  is  one  of  the  most 
perfect  exhibitions  of  unrestrained  human  nature  in 
the  whole  world.  The  monkey,  the  tiger,  the 
wolf,  the  hog,  and  the  goat,  are  not  only  to  be 
found  in  their  own,  but  in  human  form,  with  all 
their  savageness,  brutality,  fil.hiness.  It  displays 
human  nature  in  its  most  degraded,  ridiculous,  and 
absurd  conditions.  The  tiger  may  be  seen  in  a 
quiescent  state,   if  we  pass    through    Dyot  Street : 


MAN 


(     569    ) 


MAN. 


he  couches  there  ;  he  blinks  :  but  at  Bartholomew 
Fair  he  is  rampant,  vis^orous,  fierce.  Passing 
through  a  fair  in  a  country  town,  I  witnessed  a  most 
instructive  scene  : — Twd  withered,  weather-beaten 
wretches  were  standing  at  the  door  of  a  show- 
cart,  and  receiving  two-pences  from  sweet,  innocent, 
ruddy  country  girls,  who  paid  their  money,  and 
drop[)ed  their  curtsies  ;  while  these  wretches  smiled 
at  their  simplicity,  and  clapped  them  on  the  back 
as  they  entered  the  door.  What  a  picture  this  of 
Satan  !  He  sets  off  his  shows,  and  draws  in  heed- 
less creatures,  and  takes  from  them  everything  they 
have  good  about  them  !  There  was  a  fellow  dressed 
out  as  a  zany,  with  a  humpback  and  a  humpbelly, 
a  lengthened  nose  and  a  lengthened  chin.  To  what 
a  depth  of  degradation  must  human  nature  be  sunk 
to  seel<  such  resources  !  1  derived  more  instruction 
from  this  scene  than  I  could  have  done  from  many 
elaborate  theological  treatises. 

—  Cecil,  1 748-1810. 
(2.)  Its  effects. 

(3388.)  The  sin  of  man,  being  the  lord  of  all 
creatures,  must  needs  redound  to  the  misery  and 
mortality  of  all  his  retinue.  For  it  was  in  the 
greater  world,  as  in  the  administration  of  a  private 
family  ;  the  poverty  of  the  master  is 'felt  in  the 
bowels  of  the  rest  ;  his  stain  and  dishonour  runs 
into  all  the  members  of  tliat  society.  As  it  is  in 
the  natural  body,  some  parts  may  be  distempered 
and  ill-affected  alone  ;  others,  not  without  contagion 
on  the  rest ;  so  likewise  is  it  in  the  great  body  of 
the  creation.  However  other  creatures  might  have 
kept  their  evil,  if  any  had  been  in  them,  within  their 
own  bounds,  yet  that  evil  which  man,  the  lord  and 
heart  of  the  whole,  i)rought  into  the  world,  was  a 
spreading  and  infectious  evil,  which  conveyed  poison 
into  the  whole  fraiTie  of  nature,  and  planted  the 
seed  of  universal  dissolution,  wliicli  shall  one  day 
deface  with  darkness  and  horror  the  beauty  of  that 
glorious  Irame  which  we  now  admire.     — Sailer. 

(3.)   The  Scripture  account  of  it  vindicated. 

(3389.)  It  has  been  sneeringly  and  tauntingly 
demanded,  "  What  great  evil  could  there  be  in 
plucking  an  apple  troni  a  certain  tree?  Would  it," 
it  is  asked,  "  be  becoming  the  majesty  of  Almighty 
God  to  condemn  His  creatures  for  so  small  an 
offence?"  .  .  .  The  ground  of  the  objection  is 
utterly  fallacious.  The  objector  seems  to  insinuate 
that  the  value  or  amount  of  the  fruit  abstracted 
constituted  "  the  front  and  head  of  man's  ofiending," 
and  that  Deity  was  actuated  by  passion  and  revenge 
in  the  punishment  which  He  inflicted.  Now,  no 
charge  can  be  more  absurd  and  utterly  unfounded 
than  this.  To  suppose  that  the  sovereign  Lord  and 
proprietor  of  all  worlds,  and  whose  is  this  earth 
and  the  fulness  thereof,  should  have  grudged  to  fiis 
creatures  the  fruit  of  a  single  tree  in  Paradise,  not- 
witiislanding  all  the  munilicence  with  which  He 
had  lurnished  and  stored  it  as  their  abode,  is  too  pre- 
posterous an  idea  to  be  entertained  for  a  moment. 

'i  he  ground  of  their  condemnation,  then,  was 
plainly,  that  the  act  of  eating  the  forbidden  fruit 
involved  in  it  disobedience,  revolt,  and  rebellion. 
The  prohibition  was  designed  simply  as  a  test  of 
continued  allegiance.  In  every  point  of  view  it 
was  peculiarly  suitable  to  their  circumstances  and 
contliiion.  As  the  happy  tenants  of  this  earthly 
abode  of  bliss,  it  was  the  acknowledgment  that  they 
Ueld  all  they  possessed  by  the    mere   goodness  of 


their  indulgent  and  bountiful  Creator.  If  an  earthly 
prince  were  to  bestow  on  one  of  his  subjects  a  valu- 
able estate  on  contlition  of  some  act  of  homage, 
trivial  in  itself,  but  still  a  recognition  of  the  sove- 
reignty of  the  giver,  and  the  allegiance  due  to  him, 
would  he  be  considered  as  lairly  chargeable  with, 
injustice,  or  would  it  be  held  as  any  reflection  on 
his  goodness,  in  the  original  deed  of  gift,  if  he 
shoulil  prescribe  such  a  condition  on  pain  of  forfei- 
ture, not  only  of  the  estate,  but  of  the  favour  of  the 
donor?  If  the  acknowledgment  required  was  a 
mere  pepper-corn,  would  its  smallness  and  trilling 
value  be  considered  as  a  proper  subject  for  ridicule 
and  scorn?  Would  it  not  be  universally  ad-nitied, 
that  the  smaller  the  temptation  to  incur  tne  for- 
feiture, the  greater  the  guilt,  the  ingratitude,  and 
the  folly  of  transgression  ?  But  the  test  prescribed 
to  man,  as  a  test  of  allegiance  to  his  Creator  in  the 
garden  of  Eden,  was  not  the  payment  of  any  tribute, 
but  the  mere  aljstinence  from  the  fruit  of  the  tree 
of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil.  — Ewing. 

7.  His  nature  depraved. 

{3390-)  A  common  and  steady  effect  shows,  that 
there  is  somewhere  a  prevailing  liableness  in  the 
state  of  things  to  what  comes  so  steadily  to  pass. 
A  steady  effect  argues  a  steady  cause.  If  a  die  be 
once  thrown,  antl  it  falls  on  a  particular  side,  sve  do 
not  argue  from  hence,  that  that  side  is  the  heaviest  ; 
but  if  it  be  thrown  without  skill  or  care  many 
thousands  or  millions  of  times,  and  it  constantly 
lalls  on  the  same  side,  we  have  not  the  least  doubt 
in  our  minds,  but  that  there  is  something  of  pro- 
pensity in  the  case,  by  superior  weight  of  that  side, 
or  in  some  other  respect.  How  ridiculou's  would 
he  make  himself,  who  should  earnestly  dispute 
against  any  tendency  in  the  state  of  things  to  cold 
in  the  winter,  or  heat  in  the  summer ;  or  should 
stand  to  it,  that  although  it  often  happened  that 
water  quenched  fire,  yet  there  was  no  tendency  in 
it  to  such  an  effect. 

In  the  case  we  are  upon,  human  nature,  as  exist- 
ing in  such  an  immense  diversity  of  persons  and 
circumstances,  and  never  failing  in  any  one  instance 
of  coming  to  that  issue — that  sinfulness,  which  im- 
plies extreme  misery  and  eternal  ruin — is  as  the  die 
often  cast.  For  it  alters  not  the  case  in  the  least, 
as  to  the  evidence  of  tendency,  whether  the  subject 
of  the  constant  event  be  an  individual,  or  a  nature 
and  kind.  'Ihus,  if  there  be  a  succession  of  trees 
of  the  same  sort,  proceeding  one  from  another, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  growing  in  all 
countries,  soils,  and  climates,  all  bearing  ill-fruit ; 
it  as  much  proves  the  nature  and  tenilency  of  the 
kiyid,  as  if  it  weie  only  one  individual  tree,  that  had 
remained  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  often 
transplanted  into  diflerent  soils,  and  had  continued 
to  bear  only  bad  fruit.  So  if  there  were  a  particu- 
lar family,  which,  from  generation  to  generation, 
and  through  every  remove  to  innumerable  different 
countries,  and  places  of  abode,  all  died  of  consump- 
tion, or  all  run  distracted,  or  all  murdered  them- 
selves, it  would  be  as  much  evidence  of  the  tendency 
of  something  in  the  nature  or  constitution  of  that 
race,  as  it  would  be  of  the  tendency  of  something  in 
the  nature  or  state  of  an  individual,  if  some  one 
person  had  lived  all  that  time,  and  some  remarkable 
event  had  often  appeared  in  him,  which  he  had  been 
the  agent  or  subject  of  from  year  to  year,  and  from 
age  to  age,  continually  and  without  tail. 

Thus  a  propensity,  attending  the  present  nature 


MAN. 


(     570    ) 


MAN. 


or  natural  state  of  mankind,  eternally  to  ruin  them- 
selves by  sin,  may  certainly  be  inferred  from  appa- 
rent and  acknowledi^ed  fact. 

— Jonathan  Edwards,  1703-1758. 

(3391.)  It  is  of  dangerous  consequence  to  repre- 
sent to  man  how  near  he  is  to  the  level  of  beasts, 
without  showing  him  at  the  same  time  his  greatness. 
It  is  likewise  dangerous  to  let  him  see  his  greatness 
without  his  meanness.  It  is  more  dangerous  yet  to 
leave  him  ignorant  of  either  ;  but  very  beneficial 
that  he  should  be  made  sensible  of  both. 

— Pascal,  1622-1662. 

(3392.)  "That  fox."  Many  wild  beasts  lie  lurk- 
ing under  the  skin  of  man. 

— Cardinal  Bovillus. 

(3393-)  We  have  such  an  habitual  persuasion  of 
the  general  depravity  of  human  nature,  that  in  fall- 
ing among  strangers  we  always  reckon  on  their 
being  irreligious,  till  we  discover  some  specific 
indication  of  the  contrary. 

— John  Foster,  1 7 10-1843. 

(3394-)  The  most  convincing  evidence  is  pre- 
sented to  us  every  day,  that  the  nature  of  man 
necessarily  and  essentially  tends  to  sin.  Did  you 
ever  know  an  infant  grow  through  childhood,  I 
will  not  say  to  adult  age,  but  to  youth,  without 
sinning  often  and  seriously  ?  Every  one  who  is 
familiar  with  young  children  must  be  aware  that 
they  sin  by  instinct,  and  of  their  own  nature,  quite 
irrespective  of  any  bad  habits  which  they  acquire 
from  those  around  them.  The  sin  comes  spon- 
taneously, just  as  the  evil  growth  amongst  the 
wheat.  No  farmer  can  grow  his  corn  without 
weeds  ;  and  no  father  can  educate  his  child  so  as 
to  be  free  from  sin.  The  child  is  passionate,  and 
exhibits  its  passion  in  a  miniature  tempest  of  wrath. 
The  child  is  selfish,  and  steals  its  brother's  toys, 
and  follows  the  wrong  doing  with  all  its  little 
resentful  power  when  restitution  is  made.  The 
child  is  disobedient,  and  transgresses  its  parent's 
commands,  and  lies  to  hide  the  fault  when  detec- 
tion is  imminent.  In  a  word,  no  sooner  does  the 
child  become  a  moral  agent,  than  it  also  becomes 
essentially  sinful,  just  to  the  extent  to  which  its 
nature  is  developed.  Education  may  do  much  to 
eradicate  the  evil ;  but  the  fact  remains  that  educa- 
tion is  necessary.  The  plant  does  not  grow  straiglit 
but  crooked,  and  must  be  trained  to  symmetry. 
The  human  heart  is  essentially  depraved. 

— Hooper, 

(3395-)  The  assumption  of  the  New  Testament 
is  that  men  by  nature  are  animals.  The  scriptural 
use  of  the  word  flesh  in  the  New  Testament  writ- 
ings indicates  that  men  by  nature  are  living  in  the 
animal  condition  ;  and  it  is  taught  that  in  that 
condition  it  is  not  possible  lor  them  to  understand 
higher  truths,  nor  to  feel  higher  influences,  nor  to 
enter  into  the  experience  of  those  regal  joys  which 
belong  to  a  man  when  he  is  developed  in  his  higher 
faculties.  It  is  declared  everywhere  in  the  New 
Testament — not  so  much  declared  as  assumed — 
that  the  heart  is  sinful.  The  apparent  fact  that  the 
whole  creation  groans  and  travails  in  pain  is  argu- 
ment enough  on  that  subject.  The  tears,  the 
sorrows,  the  sufferings  of  men,  which  we  behold  on 
every  hand ;    the  conili  :.ts  of  the  whole  world,  of 


which  we  are  cognisant,  these  things  make  it  evident 
enough  that  men  are  sinful.  When  a  machine  is 
out  of  order,  and  the  various  parts  grate  and  grind 
against  each  other,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  to  one 
who  hears  the  grinding,  "It  is  out  of  order." 
Therefore  no  time  is  spent  in  the  New  Testament 
to  prove  that  men  are  depraved.  It  is  assurned  to 
be  a  thing  of  universal  consciousness — as  it  is.  • 

— Beecker. 

(3396.)  The  doctrine  of  man's  sinfulness  may  be 
so  preached  that  men  revolt  from  it.  It  is  a  pro- 
foundly sorrowful  truth  that  men  are  sinful,  and 
that  they  need  the  regenerating  power  of  the 
Divine  Spirit — the  new  birth  ;  and  it  may  be  so 
preached  that  all  the  feelings  of  men  revolt  from 
the  representation  of  it.  A  great  many  think  they 
cannot  preach  the  doctrine  of  sinfulness  effectually 
until  they  have  made  men  mad.  When,  by  rude 
and  unskilful  handling,  they  have  awakened  the 
passions  of  men,  and  called  forth  all  their  resistance, 
they  say,  "Now,  this  is  thorough  work.  It  is  sub- 
soiling  human  nature.  If  they  are  converted  from 
this  state,  they  will  be  better  Christians  than  they 
would  otherwise  be." 

If  you  wanted  to  take  a  garrison,  would  you  not 
think  it  the  better  way  to  quietly  steal  round  to  a 
neglected  door  in  the  rear  before  any  alarm  was 
given,  and  seize  them,  and  take  their  arms  from 
them?  Would  not  that  be  the  wiser  plan  in  war? 
Would  you  cry  out  to  them,  "  Shut  your  back  door  : 
we  are  after  you"?  Would  you  by  cannonading 
arouse  them,  and  make  them  as  hostile  as  possible, 
and  then  run  in  and  crush  them?  Would  the 
victory  be  any  better  for  that? 

If  a  man  keeps  a  bull-dog  in  his  house,  and  you 
want  to  go  there  without  being  disturbed  by  the 
animal,  tiie  best  way  is  to  go  to  the  front  door 
quietly,  and  not  wake  him  up  ;  but  many  men  think, 
"No,  you  must  stand  and  throw  stones  for  a  while, 
and  then,  when  the  dog's  mouth  is  wide  open,  go 
at  him." 

Now,  human  nature  is  very  weak  :  it  is  full  of 
faults  ;  and  1  think  it  needs  to  be  dealt  with  care- 
fully and  cautiously,  in  order,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
prevent  the  resistance  of  these  unspiritual  ten- 
dencies :  and  whoever  so  preaches  the  doctrine  of 
the  sinfulness  of  man  as  to  make  men  angry  is 
unskilful  in  the  handling  of  the  Word. 

— Beecher. 

(3397.)  Total  depravity — what  is  it?  That  clock 
yonder  is  made  on  a  plan.  So  is  my  soul.  The 
clock  may  be  out  of  order.  So  may  my  soul. 
When  that  clock  is  in  order  it  keeps  time.  When 
my  soul  is  in  order  it  obeys  conscience.  If  the 
clock  is  so  out  of  order  as  not  to  keep  time,  it  is 
good  for  nothing  as  a  clock.  If  my  soul  is  so  out  of 
order  as  not  to  obey  conscience  ;  if  I  answer,  "  I  will 
not,"  when  the  Divine  voice  says  "I  ought,"  I  am 
not  keeping  time.  Every  choice  is  wrong  when  I 
reply  by  the  negative  to  the  infinite  affirmative; 
and  as  the  moral  character  of  all  action  comes  from 
choice,  and  as  my  choice  is  wrong,  I  violate  the 
plan  of  my  being ;  I  no  longer  keep  time.  I  am 
good  for  nothing  as  a  clock.  But  when  I  say  that 
clock  will  not  keep  time,  do  I  mean  to  say  that  the 
wheels  in  it  cannot  be  put  in  order  ?  No.  Perhapl 
the  wheels  are  of  gold  and  silver.  Disarrangedness 
in  the  clock  implies  its  arrangeability.  Disarranged- 
ness in  the  soul  implies  its  arrangeability.     That 


MAN. 


(     57X     ) 


MAN. 


clock  will  not  keep  time,  nowever,  and  so  I  say  it 
is  totally  depraved  as  a  clock.  Does  that  mean 
that  the  wheels  are  all  slime  and  the  face  of  it  a 
concrete  mass  of  leprosy,  or  that  there  is  nothing 
useful  in  it  ?  Let  us  be  clear  on  this  topic  once  for 
all,  for  Hoston  loves  clear  thought,  and  supposes 
that  there  can  be  none  on  this  subject.  Make  a 
distinction  between  total  depravity  and  total  cori-iip- 
tion.  That  is  a  distinction  as  old  as  St.  Augustine, 
and  ought  to  be  tolerably  well  understood  here, 
where  the  doctrine  of  total  depravity  has  so  long 
been  attacked  mercilessly.  If  that  clock  were  a 
concrete  mass  of  unspeakable  slime,  I  should  say  it 
was  totally  corru-pt.  When  it  is  so  out  of  order 
that  it  wdj  not  keep  time,  I  say  it  is  totally  de- 
praved. If  there  were  nothing  in  a  man  capable 
of  arrangement  ;  if,  when  the  soul  is  out  ol  order 
it  could  not  by  following  conscience  and  by  Ciod's 
good  grace  be  put  again  into  order,  I  should  say  it 
is  totally  corrupt.  Uut  the  wheels  yonder  may  be 
of  pearl,  the  pivots  may  be  of  diamonds,  and  yet 
the  clock  not  keep  time  at  all.  It  is  not  totally 
corrupt,  it  is  totally  depraved.  So  the  human 
faculties  may  be  wheels  of  far-flashing  silver  and 
gold  and  pearl  ;  the  pivots  may  roll  on  diamonds, 
and  yet  the  man  not  keep  time.  He  says  "I  will 
not,"  when  the  still  small  voice  says  "I  ought;" 
and  you  know  it  is  a  deliverance  of  self-evident 
tiuth  that  when  a  man  says  that  he  has  a  sense  of 
ill  desert,  he  feels  that  the  nature  of  things  is 
against  him.  You  cannot  convince  him  that  he  is 
right  with  the  universe.  He  is  out  of  order  with 
the  universe  whenever  he  does  not  keep  time  to  the 
divine  "I  ought."  But  is  the  man  incapable  of 
being  arranged?  Not  at  all.  Total  depravity 
means  the  moral  disarrangedness  of  man  and  the 
evil  character  of  his  choices.  It  implies  man's 
arrangeability.  It  does  not  mean  total  corruption. 
That  has  no  arrangeability.  — Joseph  Cook, 

8.  The  conflicts  of  his  nature. 

(3398.)  'Y\\^  flesh  represents,  in  St.  Paul's  termin- 
ology, the  whole  brood  of  lower  faculties,  or  that 
part  of  our  nature  which  constitutes  us  animals; 
and  the  spirit  represents  manhood,  or  that  whole 
class  of  faculties  by  which  we  are  exalted  into  the 
higher  sphere — by  which  we  become  sons  of  God. 
In  a  figurative  way,  he  represents  these  two  as  in 
conflict. 

it  is  as  if  there  were  two  bands  of  soldiers  quar- 
tered in  one  tenement,  having  an  upper  and  a  lower 
storey.  On  the  ground  floor  is  a  company  of  brawl- 
ing, drunken,  unruly,  brutal,  violent,  cruel  men  ; 
and  in  the  second  storey  above  them,  is  a  company 
of  soldiers  that  are  gentlemanly,  and  courteous,  and 
humane,  and  well-disciplined.  And  there  are  three 
states  of  affairs  which  may  exist.  The  brawling 
soldiers  below  may  govern  the  house  ;  and  then 
they  will  have  hard  times  upstairs  ;  for  their  supplies 
will  be  cut  off,  and  they  will  starve.  Or,  a  part  of 
the  time  the  gentlemen  upstairs  may  govern  the 
house,  and  part  of  the  time  the  coarse,  brutal  fellows 
downstairs  may  govern  it ;  and  then  there  will  be 
a  terrible  conflict.  And  between  the  attempts  of 
those  upstairs  to  maintain  discipline,  and  the  at- 
tempts of  those  below  stairs  to  break  down  disci- 
pline, the  place  will  be  a  perfect  pandemonmm. 
There  will  be  no  peace  there.  They  wdl  be 
quarrellmg  perpetually. 

And  so  the  animal  nature  and  the  manhood,  in 


man,  quarrel.  Sometimes  it  is  the  lower  nature 
that  is  in  the  ascendancy ;  and  then  wnatever 
things  are  above  it — conscience,  faith,  hope,  all 
spiritual  tendencies,  and  all  supernal  tendencies — 
are  at  a  discount.  The  upper  part  of  the  mind  is 
starved  out  because  of  the  absolute  ascendancy  of 
the  appetites  and  passions— of  pride  and  selfishness, 
and  envy  and  lusts,  and  all  manner  of  evil  feelings. 

Then,  by  and  by,  there  is  the  second  state.  The 
state  of  resistance  and  conflict.  The  s])irit  wars 
against  the  flesh,  and  refuses  to  be  in  subjection  to 
it.  And  while  this  war  continues,  sometimes  one 
predominates  and  sometimes  the  other.  The  men 
upstairs  to-day  have  the  best  of  it,  and  the  men 
downstairs  to-morrow  have  the  best  of  it.  Nothing 
is  settled  ;  nothing  is  continuous ;  all  is  subject  to 
chance. 

There  is  many  a  halfformed  man  who  has  no 
fixed  habits  of  life,  and  in  whom  sometimes  one 
part  of  his  nature  L;ets  momentum  and  comes  into 
the  ascendancy,  and  sometimes  the  other  part. 
Sometimes  those  faculties  which  are  seeking  to  do 
good  govern,  and  sometimes  those  that  are  seeking 
to  do  evil  govern.  And  to  a  greater  or  less  extent 
there  is  a  state  of  conflict  between  the  upper  and 
the  lower  nature,  between  the  manhood  and  the 
animal,  in  every  one  of  us. 

Then  comes  tliat  state  in  which,  by  the  power  of 
God's  Spirit,  and  by  the  discipline  of  life,  complete 
ascendancy  is  gained  by  our  supersensuous  nature. 
And  all  the  other  parfs  of  our  being  are  broui^ht  into 
obedience,  as  it  is  said,  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Or, 
if  you  choose  to  follow  out  the  psychological  figure, 
the  superior  faculties  in  our  souls  assume  control. 
And  then  there  is  peace.     Then  there  is  rest. 

— Beecher. 

9.  His  moral  blindness. 

(3399.)  It  is  true  that  in  our  state  of  natural  cor- 
ruption, like  the  inhabitants  of  Sodom,  who  blindly 
gro]ied  to  find  the  door  of  Lot's  house  without 
being  able  to  do  so,  we  in  the  same  manner  seek 
the  way  of  life  and  immortality,  but,  struck  with  a 
fatal  bewilderment,  we  grow  weary  of  seeking  with- 
out being  able  to  find  it,  or  rather  we  find  the  road 
of  death,  in  which  we  walk  with  the  same  security 
as  if  it  was  in  truth  the  road  of  life.      — Latreille. 

10.  His  need  of  a  divine  redemption. 

(3400.)  Man's  deviation  from  his  duty  was,  it 
seems,  a  disorder  in  the  moral  system  of  the  uni- 
verse, for  which  nothing  less  than  Divine  wisdom 
could  conceive  a  remedy;  the  remedy  devised 
nothing  less  than  Divine  wisdom  and  power  could 
apply.  Man's  disobedience  was  in  the  moral  world, 
what  it  would  be  in  the  natural,  if  a  planet  were  to 
wander  from  its  orbit,  or  the  constellations  to  start 
from  their  appointed  places.  It  was  an  evil  for 
which  the  regular  constitution  of  the  world  had  no 
cure,  which  nothing  but  the  immediate  interposition 
of  Providence  could  repair.  — Sailer. 

11.  His  vanity. 

(3401.)  I  often  think  that  we  are  like  those  little 
heaps  of  sand  that  the  wind  raises  on  the  road, 
which  whirl  round  for  a  moment  and  are  scattered 


directly. 


—  Vianney, 


12.  His  dependence  on  God. 

(34.02.)  God  has  but  to  withdraw  His  hand  which 
bears  us  to  plunge  us  back  into   the  abyss  of  out 


MAN. 


(     572    ) 


MAN. 


nothingness,  as  a  stone  suspended  in  the  air  falls  by 
its  own  weight  the  moment  it  ceases  to  be  held. 

— feittlon. 

13.  An  object  of  Divine  care. 

(3403.)  The  distance  between  the  meanest  insect 
and  the  mightiest  monarch,  who  treads  and  crushes 
reptiles  to  death  without  the  least  regard  to  tliem, 
is  a  very  imperfect  image  of  the  distance  between 
God  and  man.  That  whicli  proves  that  it  would  be 
beneath  the  dignity  of  a  monarch  to  observe  the 
motions  ©f  ants  or  worms,  to  interest  himself  in 
their  actions,  to  punish  or  to  reward  them,  seems  to 
demonstrate  that  God  would  degrade  Himself  were 
lie  to  observe,  to  direct,  to  punish,  or  to  reward 
mankind,  who  are  infmitely  inferior  to  Ilim.  But 
one  fact  is  sufficient  to  answer  this  s])ecious  objec- 
tion, that  is,  that  God  had  created  mankind. 

— Sautin. 

14.  His  liberty  Is  restricted. 

(3404.)  We  are  free  only  like  a  bird  held  by  a 
string,  which  may  think  itself  free  while  it  does  not 
attempt  to  fly,  hut  the  moment  that  it  tries  to  get 
away  perceives  that  it  is  a  prisoner. 

—  Viattney. 

16.  His  greatness :  in  what  It  consists. 

(3405.)  In  our  moral  sense  we  bear,  though 
partially  obscured  and  broken,  like  the  shadow  in 
the  rippled  water,  the  image  of  Gf)il.  Even  his 
immortality  does  not  invest  man  with  such  dignity 
as  his  conscience.  Mere  duration,  indeed,  d<  es 
not  render  anything  great.  You  may  regard  it 
with  feelings  of  interest  when  you  think  how  it 
existed  during  ages  so  long  gone  by  :  but  il  it  has 
no  intelligence  and  no  conscience — il  it  has  no  other 
quality  than  its  antiquity,  you  cannot  pronounce  it 
great.  A  clod  does  not  cease  to  be  a  clod  because 
it  has  existed  so  long.  A  moral  being,  though  it 
were  only  to  exist  for  an  hour — the  most  short- 
lived insect,  if  possessed  of  a  moral  sense,  would 
be  a  greater  thing  than  the  first  and  most  glorious 
sun  which  God  sent  rolling  on  its  path  tluough 
space.  — Landels. 

(3406.)  It  is  in  our  higher  nature  only  that  we 
are  men  ;  and  it  is  there  only  that  vve  measure  our- 
selves as  men.  Everytliing  in  us  that  is  below  our 
moral  nature,  we  have  in  common  with  the  animal 
creation  around  us.  Grass  is  good  for  mere  leaves  ; 
and  if  it  produces  enough  of  them  it  is  good  grass. 
A  shrub  may  produce  leaves  ;  but  if  it  is  a  shrub 
that  you  plant  for  obtaining  blossoms  it  is  not  a 
good  shrub  unless  it  has  blossoms  above  the  leaves. 
But  the  orchard  may  have  leaves,  and  blossoms 
above  the  leaves  ;  and  yet,  though  grass  is  good  for 
leaves,  and  the  shrub  is  good  for  blossoms,  an 
apple-tree  is  not  good  unless  it  has  fruit  as  well  as 
blossoms  and  leaves.  And  vines  in  vineyards  are 
good,  not  for  leaves  alone,  nor  blossoms,  nor  clusters 
of  fruit,  but  for  the  wine  which  is  produced  from 
the  fruit.  And  men  judge  accordingly  ;  measuring 
the  value  of  a  vine,  not  by  the  cluster,  but  by  the 
wine;  measuring  an  orchard,  a  liltle  lower,  not  by 
the  blossom,  but  by  the  fruit  following  the  blossom  ; 
measuring  an  ornamental  shrub,  not  by  the  leaves, 
but  by  the  blossoms  ;  measuring  shade-trees,  not  by 
the  blossoms,  but  by  the  leaves ;  and  mea^^uring 
grass  by  a  standard  yet  lower.  In  other  words, 
they  find  where  the  characteristic  element  of  a  thing 
is,  and  there  they  measure  it.     We  measure  thir;gs 


by  the  point  wherein  their  superiority  lies.  The 
swine  we  estimate  for  fatness  ;  oxen  for  strength 
anil  flesh  ;  dogs  for  scent  and  sagacity  ;  horses  for 
speed  and  entlurance. 

Now  man  is  to  be  measured  by  that  which  makes 
him  MAN,  in  distinction  from  everything  else  ;  and 
that  is  not  foot,  nor  hand,  nor  body,  nor  appetites, 
nor  passions,  nor  economic  or  commercial  power. 
These  are  not  the  things  that  make  him  man.  It  is 
that  whicli  has  been  stamped  on  him — God's  image 
— that  makes  him  man.  That  part  of  his  nature 
which  introduces  the  moral  element,  right  and 
wrong ;  the  spiritual  element,  invisible  realities  ; 
and  the  benevolent  element,  the  very  divinity  of 
love.  Here  man  must  be  measured  ;  for  here,  and 
only  here,  he  becomes  man,  among  the  creatures 
of  the  world.  And  our  substantial  judgment  of 
what  we  are,  what  our  character  is,  and  what  we 
are  worth  as  men,  is  to  be  formed  upon  this  high 
moral  development :  —  You  are  worth  just  how 
good  yott  are  I  — Beecher. 

16.  Is  Immortal  \See  also  The  Soul :  Immortal.] 

(3407.)  Can  we  think  that  the  most  natural  and 
most  necessary  desire  of  all  has  nothing  to  answer 
it?  that  nature  should  teach  us  above  all  things 
to  desire  immortality,  which  is  not  to  be  had? 
especially  when  it  is  the  most  noble  and  generous 
desire  of  human  nature,  that  which  most  of  all 
becomes  a  reasonable  creature  to  desire,  nav.  that 
which  is  the  governing  principle  of  all  our  jicnons, 
and  must  give  laws  to  all  our  other  passions, 
desires,  and  appetites.  What  a  strange  creature 
has  God  made  man,  if  He  deceive  him  in  the  most 
fundamental  and  most  universal  princijile  of  action  ; 
which  makes  his  whole  life  nothing  else  but  one 
continued  cheat  and  imposture  ! 

— Sherlocky  1 64 1  - 1 707. 

(3408.)  When  I  reflect  that  God  has  given  to  in- 

ferior  animals  no  instincts  nor  faculties  that  are  not 
immediately  subservient  to  the  ends  and  purposes 
of  their  beings,  1  cannot  but  conckule  that  the  reason 
and  faculties  of  man  were  bestowed  upon  the  same 
principle,  and  are  connected  with  his  superior 
nature.  When  I  find  him,  therefore,  endowed 
with  powers  to  carry  as  it  were  the  line  and  rule 
to  the  most  distant  worlds,  I  consider  it  as  con- 
clu>ive  evidence  of  a  future  and  more  exalted 
destination,  because  I  cannot  believe  that  the 
Creator  of  the  universe  would  depart  from  all  the 
analogies  of  the  lower  creation  in  the  formation  of 
His  highest  creature,  by  gifting  him  with  a  capacity 
not  only  utterly  useless,  but  destructive  of  his  con- 
tentment and  happiness,  if  his  existence  were  to 
terminate  in  the  grave. 

— Lord- Chancellor  Erskine,  1750-1823. 

(3409.)  Upon  this  short  question,  "/r  man  int' 

mortal,  or  is  he  not  ?  "  depends  all  that  is  valuable 
in  science,  in  morals,  and  in  theology, — and  all 
that  is  most  interesting  to  man  as  a  social  beini;  and 
as  a  rational  and  accountable  intelligence.  If  he  is 
destined  to  an  eternal  existence,  an  immense  import- 
ance must  attach  to  all  his  present  affections,  actions, 
and  pursuits ;  and  it  must  be  a  matter  of  infinite 
moment  that  they  be  directed  in  such  a  channel  as 
will  tend  t9  carry  him  forward  in  safety  to  the  feli- 
cities of  a  future  world,  liut  if  his  whole  existence 
be  circumscribed  within  the  circle  of  a  few  rieeting 
years,   man   appears    an   enigma,    an  inexplicable 


MAN. 


(    573    ) 


MAN. 


phenomenon  in  the  universe,  human  life  a  mystery, 
the  world  a  scene  of  confusion,  virtue  a  n\ere 
phantom,  the  Creator  a  capricious  being,  and  His 
plans  and  arrangements  an  inextricable  maze. 

—Dr.  T.  Dick. 

(3410.)  Can  it  be  possible  that  man,  a  human 
form,  to  whom  homage  is  paid  both  by  animal  and 
vegetable;  the  focus  of  ingenuity;  the  wonderful 
exposition  of  cause  and  efilect  ;  the  living  poem  of 
perfect  measure  ;  the  mechanical  wonder  of  the 
world  ;  was  born  and  created  to  grow  ;  and,  having 
done  his  best  to  injure  or  benefit  mankind,  he,  a 
perlect  score  in  the  plan  of  creation,  shall  cease  to 
exist  when  the  body  sinks  ;  and  the  soul  stained 
with  sin  shall  meet  with  no  just  punishment,  when 
laws  against  sin  govern  this  Viorld?  Or,  if  he  has 
raised  the  lowly,  forgiven  the  erring,  and  relieved 
the  suffering  and  needy  relative,  is  he  to  be  blotted 
out,  even  as  a  worm  is  trodden  down,  and  reap  the 
benefit  of  no  approving  conscience  ? 

—S.  W.  Francis,  M.D.,  1875. 

(341 1.)  The  bird  within  the  shell  could  not  com- 
prehend why  wings  were  given  for  that  cramped 
existence,  but  the  almost  unconscious  flutter  of  the 
prisoned  pinions  was  God  s  promise  of  another  and 
a  better  life.  — Diijf  Porler. 

(34?  2.)  Death  cannot  l<ill  us.  Having  once 
launched  tliis  ship,  it  sails  on  foi  ever.  Other  craft 
may  be  sucked  into  a  whirlpool,  or  shivered  on  the 
rocks  ;  but  this  life  wiiliin  us  sliall  weather  the 
storms,  and  drop  no  anchor,  and  ten  million  years 
from  now  shall  shake  out  signals  passing  others  on 
the  high  seas  of  eternity.  — 'Jalmage. 

(3413.)  It  may  be  taken  as  a  great  and  distinctly 
marked  principle  in  the  arrangement  of  nature,  that 
there  is  nothing  wasteful,  and  nothing  unmeaning  ; 
and  yet,  unless  man  be  appointed  to  a  higher  and 
nobler  existence,  it  is  undeniable  that  there  has 
been  bestowed  on  him  a  vast  deal  which  is  truly 
superfluous,  and  that  no  proportion  whatever  is 
maintained  between  the  powers  wherewith  he  is 
endowed,  and  the  achievements  which  are  placed 
within  his  reach.  Who'can  contemplate  man,  and 
not  perceive  him  to  be  possessed  of  energies  anil 
capacities  which  are  thrown  away,  or  lost,  if  a  few 
years  spent  within  the  trammels  of  a  circumscribed 
scene  made  up  the  sum-total  of  his  being?  If  you 
extended  man's  life  to  thousands  of  years,  and 
allowed  not  during  this  long  period  old  age  to 
enervate  his  powers,  he  might  continue  gathering 
in  accessions  of  knowledge,  in  tiie  varied  scenes 
which  now  invite  his  research  ;  but  any  one  of 
which,  far  too  ample  to  be  traversed  in  the  present 
span  of  existence,  would  remain  unexliausted  where 
centuries  on  centuries  had  been  given  to  their  in- 
vestigation. And  what  is  this  but  saying,  that  man 
is  blessed  with  inmieasurably  larger  capacities  than 
it  is  possible  to  fdl  during  the  scant  moments  of  his 
lifetime  ;  so  that  if  at  death  he  be  altogether  with- 
drawn from  tlie  theatre  of  being,  he  carries  down 
with  him  into  nothingness  a  rich  freiglu  of  unem- 
ployed and  undeveloped  energies;  and  thus  leaves 
behind  him  a  record  of  the  wastefulness  of  the 
Creator,  and  furnishes  a  proof  that  God  bestows 
what  is  not  wanted,  and  gives  means  without  an  end. 
We  will  just  suppose,  that  what  is  matter  of  fact 
in  man's  intellectual  constitution  were  also  matter  of 


fact  in  his  physical.  If  there  were  limbs,  or  nerves 
or  organs  in  man's  body,  which  answered  no  pre- 
sent use,  or  whose  office  were  inconsiderable  when 
compared  with  their  evident  power,  the  anatomist 
who  has  rigidly  learned  that  nature  does  nothing 
without  an  end,  would  be  inclined  to  the  persua- 
sion that  the  body  has  yet  to  pass  into  some 
other  condition,  and  that  then  the  useless  and 
half-employed  powers  would  find  full  room  for 
exercise.  It  is  certain  that  there  is  much  in 
the  anatomy  of  the  infant  vvhicli  is  only  to  be 
accounted  for  on  the  supposition  that  the  infant 
is  to  grow  into  the  man  ;  and  if  we  could  find 
the  same  traces  of  a  prospective  arrangement  in  the 
full-grown  man,  the  inference  would  seem  unavoid- 
able, that  manhood  is  not  the  last  stage  of  the 
body's  existence,  but  that  it  is  designed  to  be 
ushered  into  some  broader  arena,  where  the  yet 
unused  organs  shall  be  all  brought  into  play.  But 
what  we  thus  suppose  in  man's  physical  anatomy, 
is  really  found  in  his  intellectual  and  moral. 
There  are  embryo  powers  which  are  either  not  at 
all,  or  only  partially  called  forth  on  earth  ;  there 
are  capacities  which  will  hold  immeasurably  more 
than  they  arc  here  required  to  contain  ;  there  is  a 
grasp  and  tenacity  of  intellect  which  are  as  muchi 
out  of  place,  if  tliere  be  no  futurity,  as  would  be 
the  sinew  and  grapple  of  a  giant,  when  only  a 
feather  is  to  be  raised,  or  a  straw  to  be  wielded  ; 
there  are  unutterable  longings  which  find  nothing  in 
the  present  .scene  at  all  corresponding  ;  in  short, 
the  soul  of  man  cannot  be  "filled,"  it  is  too  big  for 
time,  and  craves  eternity.  And  what  do  we  infer 
from  this  ascertained  disproportion  between  the 
powers  and  circumstances  of  man  ?  Shall  not  the 
intellectual  anatomist  proceed,  as  in  the  like  case 
the  physical  would  proceed?  Shall  we  not  believe 
that  the  excess  of  energies  over  present  employment 
witnesses  that  the  soul  is  appointed  to  a  future  and 
far  higher  career— that  she  is  destined  to  expatiate 
in  a  sphere,  compared  to  that  which  now  binds  her 
joumeyings,  which  shrinks  into  a  point  ?  And 
shall  we  not  learn  from  the  known  restlessness  of 
man,  from  the  fact  (which,  be  it  observed,  is  the 
sole  exception  to  the  rule,  and  the  single  instance 
of  departure  from  uniform  principle),  tlie  fact  that 
creation  cannot  satisfy  the  creature,  but  that  the 
world  with  all  it  can  afford  is  too  little — shall  we 
not  learn  from  this,  that  the  death  of  the  body 
terminates  not  the  existence  of  the  spirit  ;  but  t-)iat 
in  some  yet  untravelled  region,  into  whicii  the  soul 
shall  be  hereafter  translated,  there  are  objects  great 
enough  and  glorious  enough  to  engage  our  every 
power,  and  crown  our  every  capacity,  and  satiate 
our  every  longing  ?  — Melvill,  1798- 1831. 

(3414.)  In  this  life  the  snul  never  appears  to 
reach  the  limit  of  its  growth.  Every  victory 
increases  the  facility  with  whicli  subsequent  and 
more  important  victories  are  gained,  l.vei  y  culii. 
added  to  its  stature  accelerates  the  rapidity  oi  its 
growth.  The  wond-er  of  yesterday  is  the  common- 
place of  to-day  ;  and  the  task  of  to-day  is  the  cliikl's 
play  of  to-morrow.  Nor  will  it  be  otherwise,  we 
liave  reason  to  think,  in  the  future  life.  Our  sense 
of  congruity  would  be  shocked  by  the  termination 
of  its  existence.  It  would  be  destroyed  in  what 
v\as  comparatively  the  infancy  of  its  being — the 
season  of  its  promise,  while  it  felt  longinys  whicii 
had  not  been  sati-tied,  possessed  capabilities  which 
had  not    been  exercised,  gave  promises  which  liad 


MAN. 


(    574    ) 


MAN. 


not  been  fulfilled.  It  would  be  as  if  an  artist  were 
to  destroy  the  best  of  his  works  while  they  were  yet 
in  course  of  completion — as  if  the  fairest  flowers 
were  to  be  blighted  while  yet  in  the  bud — as  if  the 
best  fruits  were  to  wither  before  they  ripened — as  if 
the  sun  were  to  set  in  the  morning,  or  the  winter 
were  immediately  to  succeed  the  first  buddings  of 
spring.  It  would  be  the  strangely  anomalous  pro- 
cedure of  a  Being  of  infinite  wisdom  and  power 
and  goodness  ruthlessly  destroying,  while  they  were 
progressing  towards  a  higher  perfection,  those 
works  which  bore,  in  the  most  eminent  degree,  the 
traces  of  His  power  and  skill.  — Landels. 

(3415.)  The  truth  of  life  and  immortality,  which 
were  brought  to  light  in  Christ  Jesus,  had  been 
before  believed  in  a  doubting  way.  It  had  been  in 
the  world  as  a  suggestion,  as  a  hint,  as  a  rumour, 
one  might  say,  but  never  as  a  power. 

You  are  a  poor  man  and  ignorant.  There  is  a 
written  document  in  a  chest  in  your  room.  You 
cannot  read  writing,  and  you  do  not  know  what 
tlie  document  contains,  but  you  hnve  a  suspicion 
that  by  it  you  might  become  the  inheritor  of  great 
treasure.  You  take  it  out,  and  look  at  it,  and 
vainly  wish  that  you  could  read  it  ;  you  put  it  back 
without  gaining  any  knowledge  of  its  purport.  By 
.and  by  seme  kind  friend  comes  to  your  relief.  A 
light  is  kindled  in  your  dwelling,  and  that  document 
is  taken  out  ;  he  examines  it  for  you.  He  reads, 
.and  as  he  reads,  grows  more  and  more  attentive. 
He  stops  to  ask  you,  "  Who  was  your  father  ?  who 
■was  his  father?  what  was  your  uncle's  name?" 
"  Something  concerning  my  uncle,  my  father,  and 
,my  father's  father?"  you  say.  You  are  impatient 
to  know  what  it  is.  But  instead  of  telling  you,  he 
turns  the  paper  over  again,  and  says,  "  Well,  well  !  " 
Unable  longer  to  restrain  your  eagerness  to  know 
what  are  its  contents,  you  say  to  him,  "Tell  me 
what  it  is.  Do  not  hold  me  in  suspense.  What  is 
the  news?"  At  length  he  says,  "  Why,  sir,  do  you 
know  that  that  whole  estate  is  yours  ?  Here  is  your 
title.  I  have  brought  it  out  of  its  hiding-place. 
This  is  well.  Tlie  evidence  is  unquestionable.  You 
are  a  millionaire.  Your  poverty  is  gone."  "  Read 
the  paper  again.  Is  it  so — that  I  own  that  estate?" 
The  man  reads  it  again  ;  you  are  assured  that  you  are 
heir  to  the  property.  Your  neighbours  hear  the 
news,  and  tell  it  to  others  ;  presently  it  is  known 
through  the  whole  town  ;  great  is  tlie  rejoicing  that 
you  have  come  to  your  rights  at  last  I  ^ 

The  world  had  heard  whispers  of  immortality. 
There  had  been  fables  and  pictures,  cloud-pictures, 
and  fables  grotesque  or  fantastic.  Christ  came, 
and  opened  God's  will,  as  it  is  revealed  in  the  New 
'i'estament,  and  made  known  the  love — the  suffering 
love  ot  God.  Men  began  to  listen  to  His  glorious 
teachings.  "All  that  is  God's  is  yours.  By  faith 
you  may  become  His  sons.  You  are  heirs  of  God, 
and  joints-heirs  with  Jesus  Christ.  All  that  God 
owns  you  shall  inherit,  of  joy,  of  power,  of  noble- 
ness, of  dignity,  of  society,  of  existence,  throughout 
eternity."  Such  is  the  revelation.  Sound  the 
musical  word  !  Proclaim  to  all  nations  and  gene- 
rations the  glad  tidings  that  for  ever  and  for  ever 
man  shall  live  !  — Beeclur. 

17.  His  future. 

(3416.)  We  are  quite  certain  that  what  we  are 
cani.oi  be  the  end  of  God's  design.  When  I  see  a 
block  ol   inarhle  half  chisolled  with  just  perhaps  a 


hand  peeping  out  from  the  rock,  no  man  can  make 
me  believe  tliat  that  is  what  the  artist  means  it 
should  be.  And  I  know  I  am  not  what  God  would 
have  me  to  be,  because  I  feel  yearnings  and  longings 
within  myself  to  be  infinitely  better,  infinitely  holier 
and  purer,  than  I  am  now.  And  so  it  is  with  you ; 
you  are  not  what  God  means  you  to  be  ;  you  have 
only  just  begun  to  be  what  He  wants  you  to  be. 
He  will  go  on  with  His  chisel  of  afOiction,  using 
wisdom  and  the  graving  tool  together,  till  by  and  by 
it  shall  appear  what  you  shall  be  for  ;  you  shall  be 
like  Him,  and  yon  shall  see  Him  as  He  is.  Oh  1 
what  comfort  this  is  for  our  faith,  that  from  the  fact 
of  our  vitality  and  the  fact  that  God  is  at  work 
with  us,  it  is  clear,  and  true  and  certain,  that  our 
latter  end  shall  be  increased.  I  do  not  think  that 
any  man  yet  has  ever  got  an  idea  of  what  a  man  is 
to  be.  We  are  only  the  chalk  crayon,  rough  draw- 
ings of  men,  yet  when  we  come  to  be  filled  up  in 
eternity,  we  shall  be  marvellous  pictures,  and  our 
latter  end  indeed  shall  be  greatly  increased. 

— Spurgeon, 

(3417.)  "The  ages  to  come"  will  reveal  a  per- 
sonal experience  in  us  of  which  now  we  have  but 
the  very  faintest  trace  in  analogy.  We  cannot  at 
present  form  a  conception  of  perfection  in  the 
elements  which  constitute  character.  You  never 
can  tell  what  the  ripe  is  from  looking  at  the  green. 
If  an  unknown  seed  be  brought  to  you,  and  you 
plant  it  in  the  ground,  and  it  sprout,  and  grow  for 
five  years,  only  throwing  out  leaves,  and  for  five 
years  more,  still  only  throwing  out  leaves,  can  you 
tell  how  its  blossoms  are  going  to  look?  You  never 
saw  them.  The  tree  is  a  new  one.  You  have 
seen  the  root,  the  leaves,  and  the  bark,  and  you 
have  cut  into  the  wood  ;  you  know  its  habits  for 
the  first  ten  years ;  you  know  when  its  leaves 
appear  in  the  spring,  and  when  they  fall  off  in  the 
autumn  ;  you  know  eveiything  about  it  as  far  as  it 
has  gone  during  those  ten  years  ;  but  you  cannot 
guess  whether  its  blossoms  are  white  or  yellow. 
You  cannot  tell  whether  they  will  hang  in  racemes, 
or  rise  up  in  circles.  You  cannot  tell  whether 
they  will  stand  out  in  spikes,  or  be  pendant.  You 
cannot  tell  whether  they  vjill  be  early  or  late.  You 
cannot,  if  the  shrub  or  tree  be  unknown,  find  out  the 
prophecy  of  the  blossoms. 

But  at  last  the  blossom  comes  out.  Now  tell  me 
what  that  blossom  is  going  to  produce.  Look  at 
it.  Is  it  going  to  put  forth  a  pod,  or  is  it  going  to 
be  a  fruit?  Is  it  going  to  be  a  seed,  or  luscious 
food  ?  You  cannot  tell  from  a  blossom  what  the 
fruit  is  going  to  be,  except  by  analogues  ;  and  I  am 
now  supposing  a  new  plant  of  which  there  has 
been  no  congener  within  your  knowledge,  and  that 
you  are  attempting,  from  a  lower  state,  to  conceive 
of  the  higher. 

Now,  in  regard  to  human  beings,  there  is  nothing 
in  the  unripe  stale  of  the  mind  which  is  a  fair 
interpretation  of  what  ripeness  in  it  is  going  to  be. 
You  could  never  have  told,  except  by  seeing  it, 
what  the  human  reason  was  competent  to  do. 
Consider  the  force  of  reason,  by  which  the  whole 
physical  universe  is  being  now  unbarred  :  by  which 
the  most  distant  orbs  are  being  searched,  weighed, 
analysed  ;  by  which  we  are  unwrapping  the  sun, 
and  taking  off  coat  after  coat;  by  which  we  know 
more  about  the  sun  itself  than  oftentimes  men  do 
of  the  province  in  which  they  live  on  earth.  What 
an   education  !     What   an  outstretch    of  thought  I 


MAN. 


(     575    ) 


MAN. 


What  development  of  the  reasoning,  searching 
power  of  the  mind  !  Who  could  have  suspected  it 
in  the  days  of  barbarism  ?  No  man  could  then  have 
told  that.  And  who  now  can  foretell  what  new 
development  the  human  reason  is  capable  of?  As 
from  the  lower  stages  you  could  not  suspect  the 
higher,  so  from  the  present  stages  you  cannot  anti- 
cipate those  which  are  yet  to  come.  Now  we  think  ; 
but  in  the  higher  forms  of  thinking  there  is  the 
intuition,  the  jump,  as  it  wereu  the  flash  of  thought, 
vsith  wiiich  our  present  thinking  is  not  to  be  com- 
pared. We  call  it  intuition,  we  call  it  inspiration, 
we  call  it  names  ;  but  names  are  not  things.  There 
is  evidently  the  hint  of  a  wondrous  disclosure  of 
power  in  the  direction  of  reason  "  in  the  ages  to 
come."  \\'e  do  not  see  it  here.  We  cannot  know 
it.  We  can  only  know  what  is  the  perpetual 
suggestion  of  it.  Says  the  apostle  St.  John  :  "  We 
are  the  sons  of  God  ;  but  it  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be."  — Beccker. 

18.  Tlie  unity  of  ttie  human  race. 

{3418.)  We  have  certain  demonstration  from 
Egyptian  mummies,  and  Roman  urns  and  rings, 
and  measures  and  edifices,  and  many  other  antiqui- 
ties, that  human  stature  has  not  diminished  for 
above  two  thousand  years. 

— Bent  ley,  166 1- 1742. 

(3419.)  There  is  a  vast  difference  between  one 
part  of  the  human  family  and  another,  but  I  do 
not  know  that  it  is  greater  than  the  difference  which 
exists  in  a  single  household.  In  the  same  family 
we  find  one  child  blazing  with  the  genius  of  ima- 
gination, and  foretokens  and  forelookings  of  this 
raiiiaiU  faculty,  and  another  child  squarely  practical, 
without  a  spark  of  imagination.  In  the  same  family 
we  find  one  child  as  full  of  song  as  the  spring  day 
is  with  all  the  birds  in  the  woods,  and  another  as 
dumb  as  though  only  turtles  lived.  One  child  shall 
be  clear  in  practical  matters,  and  stupid  in  ethical  ; 
and  another  child  shall  be  clear  in  ethical  matters, 
and  stupid  in  practical.  One  shall  have  extraordi- 
nary intelligence,  and  another  shall  be  in  the  twi- 
light of  insanity  or  idiocy.  And  does  anybody  say 
that  the  family  is  not  a  unit  because  children  of  the 
same  parents  are  different?  There  are  no  diversi- 
ties between  the  races  of  the  world  on  the  great 
scale  more  extreme  than  those  which  are  often 
found  in  the  family  on  the  small  scale. 

— Beecher. 

(3420.)  The  physical  diversify  of  the  race-stocks 
on  the  earth  is  not  such  as  to  impair  the  argument 
for  substantial  unity.  There  is  the  same  plan 
existing  throughout  nil  nations.  We  hear  a  great 
deal  about  the  ethnoid  bones,  and  the  length  of  the 
heel,  and  the  curvature  of  the  chin,  and  the  style 
of  the  hair,  and  all  these  little  incidental  matters. 
But  what  would  be  thought  if  we  should  argue  in 
the  same  way  in  respect  to  military  organisations, 
and  should  take  the  jacket  of  the  sailor  as  over 
against  the  coat  of  the  soldier  ;  and  the  snub-plume 
of  the  artillery  as  over  against  the  feather  of  the 
other  arm  of  the  service  ?  What  would  be  thought 
if  you  should  pick  out  little  tit-bit  things  here  and 
there  and  urge  them  against  the  substantial  unity 
of  tin;  army  to  which  all  these  belong?  And, 
without  going  into  any  detail,  how  absurd  it  is  to 
Bpeak  of  the  anatomical  structure  of  man  to  show 
that  the  races  are  substantially  different  and  divi- 


sible 1  There  is  precisely  the  same  plan  through* 
out  the  earth,  of  bone,  of  nerve,  of  artery,  of  struc- 
ture, of  generation,  of  gestation,  of  nutrition,  of 
increment,  and  of  decrement.  These  things  are 
substantially  the  same  in  one  race  that  they  are  in 
the  others,  whether  it  be  African,  or  Asiatic,  or 
Anglo-Saxon,  or  Norman,  or  Dane.  'I'he  great 
functions  of  the  human  system  are  exactly  the  same, 
and  the  brain  does  its  work  in  the  same  manner  in 
some  men  as  in  others,  whether  they  be  on  a  low 
or  a  high  plane.  The  liver,  the  heart,  the  stomach, 
the  spleen,  and  every  part  of  the  body  are  the  same 
in  all.  The  organs  of  the  race  are  the  same.  If  it 
were  true  that  the  African  had  his  heart  in  his 
liver,  that  would  be  a  pretty  tough  argument ;  but 
does  it  make  any  difference  to  me  if  the  hair  is 
kinked?  The  Alrican's  bone  is  the  same  as  yours 
is  ;  and  his  marrow  is  the  same  as  youfti  is.  And 
though  there  is  a  slight  variation  between  races, 
the  surgeon,  the  nurse,  the  dietician,  would  treat 
all  nations  of  the  earth  as  though  there  were  simply 
minor  diflerences  between  them.  There  are  no 
greater  differences  between  nations  than  between 
individuals  of  the  same  nation;  and. they  must  be 
all  treated  alike,  — Beecher. 

19.  The  future  of  the  human  race. 

(3421.)  When  we  are  obliged  to  say  that  probably 
not  one  man  in  a  million  has  ever  been  of  any 
particular  moral  avail,  that  of  the  mass  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  globe — those  in  the  isles  of  the 
ocean  ;  those  in  China  ;  those  on  the  populous 
plains  of  Asia  ;  those  on  the  whole  continent  of 
Africa  ;  and  a  large  portion  of  the  fairest  population 
of  both  North  and  South  Americas — a  million  taken 
together  do  not  constitute  one  fair  man  as  respects 
moral  endowments,  that  it  has  been  the  history  of 
the  race  that  they  have  simply  been  animals,  and 
that  they  have  been  born,  and  lived,  and  ripened, 
and  begotten  their  posterity,  and  decayed,  and  died, 
and  gone  through  the  precise  circle  which  leaves  go 
through,  that  come  out  in  the  spring,  and  ripen, 
and  loosen,  and  drop  off,  and  turn  to  soil  for  theil 
successors  to  grow  upon,  developing  no  conscience, 
and  producing  no  material  impression  on  the  course 
of  the  human  mind — when  we  are  obliged  to  see 
these  things,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  in  a  divine 
moral  government  among  men.  It  is  said  that  a 
million  Chinamen  might  die  to-day,  and  not  one 
idea  would  be  lost.  Ten  million  Asiatics  might  die, 
and  not  an  invention  nor  a  moral  impulse  would  be 
lost.  Of  the  race  hitherto,  ninety-nine  parts  in  a 
hundred  might  have  been  wiped  out  without  any 
loss  to  civilisntion  or  to  religion.  And  men  say, 
with  a  great  show  of  reason,  too,  "  Is  it  to  be  sup- 
posed that  this  is  the  state  of  facts  in  a  world  where 
Cod  is  universal  Father,  and  is  conducting  a 
government,  and  is  the  leader  of  the  people,  and 
is  carrying  on  a  glorious  Church  that  is  to  fill  the 
whole  earth?"  You  are  to  remember  that  the 
mode  of  leadership  is  important  as  well  as  the  fact 
that  God  leads.  He  does  lead  ;  but  He  does  not 
lead  as  you  would  have  led.  He  leads,  not  by  overt  \ 
and  creative  power  at  every  step,  but  by  evolution, 
by  development,  by  growth  ;  and  that  which  the 
world  is  to  reach,  it  is  to  reach  through  the  process 
of  self-unfolding,  little  by  little.  It  requires  cycles 
and  periods  of  time  that  are  incomputable.  Cod 
makes  the  soil.  How  does  He  make  the  soil? 
Here  is  a  volcanic  island,  with  an  area  of  a  thousand 
acres,  where  not  long  ago  there  was  ocean.     It  ia 


MAN. 


(    576    ) 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


all  lava ;  and  the  rains,  and  the  sun,  and  the  winter 
begin  to  mellow  the  surface,  and  to  disintegrate  it. 
It  is  a  thousand  years  before  it  is  sufficiently  mel- 
lowed by  cliuiacieric  influences  to  be  able  to  sup- 
port a  seed,  yet  Goil  cultivates  it  during  that  tliou- 
sand  years.  There  is  no  waste  of  time,  because 
where  one  is  infinite  there  is  time  enough  for  the 
longest  operations.  By  and  by  some  chance  seeds 
find  their  way  to  this  island,  and  spring  up  in  the 
soil,  and  grow,  and  then  die.  And  what  do  they 
do?  They  form  the  first  particles  of  vegetable 
mould  which  the  soil  contains.  And  before  they  die 
they  ripen  seeds.  These  seeds  become  other  plants. 
And  what  do  they  do?  They  ripen,  shed  their 
seeds,  and  add  their  corpses  to  those  that  have  gone 
before  them  And  so  generations  of  plants  live  and 
die.  And  vvliat  do  they  do  ?  They  make  soil,  until 
by  and  by,  there  come  up  stately  trees  out  of  it. 
And  the="  decay,  and  enter  into  the  soil,  and  a  less 
rank  an^  .liglier  order  of  vegetation  begins  to  take 
tlieir  place.  When  men  see  the  last  part  of  the 
process,  they  have  faith  to  believe  that  God  is  pro- 
ducing this  luxuriant  and  wonder-exciting  and  glad- 
ness-exciting vegetation  ;  but  He  produces  it  by 
that  long  series  of  natural  evolutions  by  which  a 
rock  is  turned  to  soil,  and  all  things  tliat  grow  on 
that  soil  will  serve  to  prepare  it  for  something 
better.  And  the  perfect  type  is  the  last  step,  tiie 
final  step  of  the  process  of  evolution  of  ages  and 
ages. 

Now,  in  the  human  family,  it  may  be  true  that, 
as  regards  the  results  which  they  produce,  a  single 
generation  seems  a  waste  generation  ;  but  poor  as 
men  are,  and  little  as  they  do,  no  generation  of  the 
world  ever  died  without  leaving  some  little  soil 
behind  in  moral  and  intellectual  affairs.  And  we 
stand  on  the  aggregations  of  the  moral  experience 
of  myriads  and  myriads  of  men  that  we  call  worth- 
less. 

The  king  builds  his  palace  on  a  rock  in  the  sea, 
and  it  stands,  though  the  waves  thunder  against  it, 
and  the  turbulent  elements  beat  down  upon  it  with 
tlieir  whole  power.  But  what  built  that  rock  ? 
Little  coral  plants.  And  there  was  not  one  of  them 
that  was  not  infinitesimally  small.  And  the  king 
says,  "  What  are  these  little  worms  to  me?"  They 
are  so  much  to  you  that  it  was  by  their  working 
and  dying,  and  working  and  dying,  and  working 
and  dying,  that  the  foundation  was  made  on  which 
you  built  your  palace  ;  and  that  if  it  had  not  been 
for  them,  you  would  not  have  had  it.  And  the 
stone  quarry  from  which  you  obtained  material  with 
■which  to  lay  up  the  walls  was  the  product  of  the 
obscure  labour  of  infinite  weakness  in  ages  gone  by. 

It  will  never  do  for  us,  therefore,  so  lung  as  we 
have  no  larger  span  of  vision  than  we  have  now, 
to  undertake  to  say  that  men  who  are  apparently 
useless,  that  men  who  do  not  in  their  individuality 
produce  results,  are  of  no  consequence  ;  lor  if  not 
in  their  individuality,  yet  in  their  aggregates,  they 
do  produce  results,  on  which  later  civilisaiion  is  to 
be  established.  And  we  are  to  consider  the  course 
of  the  whole  race  in  all  its  cycles,  and  not  the 
course  of  any  section  of  it  at  any  one  period  of  time. 

— Beecher. 

(3422.)  In  my  schoolboy  drawing  lessons,  when  I 
came  to  the  luiman  face,  my  master  gave  me  first 
the  eyes  to  practise  upon,  and  then  the  nose,  and 
tlien  he  mouth,  and  then  the  ears,  and  then  the 
brow  and  hair,  and  after  long  weeks  tlie  day  came 


when  I  was  to  combine  them.  I  knew  where  to  set 
the  eyes,  one  over  against  the  other,  where  to  draw 
down  the  nose,  and  to  open  the  mouth,  and  to  place 
the  ears,  and  to  shade  the  hair  about  the  forehead  ; 
and  so  at  last,  I  had  a  perfect  face.  Now,  God  is 
the  great  draught-master,  and  the  world  is  His 
pupil.  Here  and  there,  through  laws  and  institu- 
tions. He  is  developing  the  single  features,  and  at 
length  the  day  will  come  when  they  shall  be 
combined  to  form  a  perfect  manhood  in  Christ 
Jesus. 

At  the  Military  Academy,  the  soldiers  are  taken 
separately  to  the  drill-rooYn,  and  there  the  martinet 
puts  them  through  all  the  steps,  and  passes,  and 
gestures,  which  they  are  required  to  learn  ;  and 
when  they  have  been  trained  and  disciplined,  ihev 
come  to  the  parade  ground  ;  and  then,  at  the  word 
of  command,  platoons  march,  and  squadrons  wheel, 
and  the  great  army,  as  one  man,  moves  to  the  voice 
of  its  leader.  Now,  God's  formative  influences  in 
this  world  are  His  military  academies.  His  drill- 
rooms,  where  for  centuries,  the  soldiers  of  the  cross 
have  been  trained  ;  but  the  clay  is  coming  when  He 
shall  put  to  His  lips  the  trumpet  of  announcement, 
and  when,  with  uplifted  standard  and  triumphal 
music,  He  shall  lead  forth  His  vast  army  to  go 
round  and  round  the  world  with  victory  ! 

— Beecher. 

(3423.)  The  human  family  is  on  its  way  to  a 
state  in  which  wealth,  power,  refinement,  and  uni- 
versal purity  and  joy  shall  be  characteristic. 

As  the  husbandman  of  to-day,  relletiing  upon  the 
last  year,  sees  the  stages  of  ploughing,  and  sowing, 
and  hoeing,  and  growing,  and  reaping  all  unitised 
in  the  harvest,  and  thinks  of  what  the  year  has 
come  to,  rather  than  of  the  steps  by  which  it  came 
to  it  ;  so  is  it  to  be  in  the  grand  autumnal  consum- 
mation of  the  world.  There  is  to  be  a  time  when 
we  shall  see  what  the  world  and  the  race  have  come 
to,  and  shall  almost  forget  those  steps  of  culture  by 
which  tiiey  came  to  it.  There  is  to  be  a  grand 
harvest-home  for  man.  And  God,  who  from  eternal 
spheres  is  able  to  take  in  that  beginning  and  that 
ending  between  which  roll  as  many  ages  as  there 
are  drops  between  Europe  and  America,  sees  the 
history  of  man  as  it  is  to  be  consummated  in  the 
millennial  or  final  period.  — Beecher, 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 
1.  Their  necessity, 

(3424.)  Grace  is  like  a  spark  in  wet  wood,  that 
needs  continual  blowing.  — Alanton,  1620-1667. 

(3425.)  Would  you  have  and  keep  up  ardent 
desires  ?  Do  as  they  that  would  keep  in  the  fire, 
cherish  the  sparks,  and  blow  them  up  to  a  tlame. 
There  is  no  man  lives  under  the  means  of  grace, 
and  under  the  discoveries  of  God  and  religion,  iuit 
has  his  good  moods  and  very  lively  motions.  The 
waters  are  stirred  many  times,  take  hold  of  this 
advantage.  Strengthen  the  things  that  remain  and 
are  reatly  to  die,  and  blow  up  these  sparks  into  a 
flame.  God  has  left  us  enkinuling  mrans, — prayer, 
meditation,  and  the  Word.  Observe  where  tlie  bel- 
lows blow  hardest,  and  ply  that  course.  The  more 
supernatural  things  are,  there  needs  more  diligepce 
to  preseive  them.  A  strange  plant  nec<ls  more 
care  than  a  native  of   the  soil.      Worldly  desires, 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


(     577     ) 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


like  a  nettle,  breed  of  their  own  accord,  but  spiri- 
tual desires  need  a  great  deal  of  cultivating. 

— Maiiton,  1620-1667. 

2.  Are  only  means  ! 

(3426.)  Prayer  and  Scripture  Reading  and  Sacra- 
ments are  means  to  true  religion  ;  and  as  they  are 
means  of  Divine  appointment,  they  are  sure,  if 
faithfully  and  devoutly  used,  to  conduce  to  the  end. 
But  for  all  that,  they  are  not  the  end  ;  and  to  regard 
them  as  such  is  a  mischievous  confusion  of  thought, 
which  may  very  possibly  disturb  our  spiritual  aim, 
and  make  us  shoot  very  wiiie  of  the  mark.  It  is 
true,  no  doubt,  that  the  religious  exercises  we  have 
specified  are  absolutely  essential  (in  all  cases  where 
they  may  be  had)  to  the  spiritual  life.  But  even 
this  fact  does  not  take  them  out  of  the  category  of 
means,  and  make  them  ends.  A  scaffolding  is  the 
means  of  building  a  house ;  nay,  more,  it  is  an 
essential  means  ;  for  how  could  the  upper  stories 
ever  be  raised  without  a  scaffolding?  But  in 
material  things  of  this  kind,  no  one  ever  mistakes 
the  means  for  the  end.  No  one  ever  confounds  the 
house  wiih  the  scaffolding,  or  imagines  that  the 
object  of  the  builder  is  achieved,  if  notliing  should 
ever  be  exhibited  to  the  eye  but  scaffolding,  if  there 
be  no  foundation  dug,  and  no  layers  of  bricks  begin 
to  rise  above  the  earth.  But  in  matters  spiritual 
there  are  hundreds  who  are  satisfied  with  them- 
selves, if  they  exhibit  day  by  day  notliing  but  a 
religious  apparatus,  if  they  have  literally  nothing 
to  show  but  prayers  duly  and  attentively  said, 
church  duly  attended,  sacraments  periodically  and 
solemnly  received.  — Goulburn. 

3.  For  what  purpose  tbey  are  to  be  used. 

(3427.)  It  is  not  enough  to  make  use  of  ordi- 
nances, but  we  must  see  if  we  can  find  God  there. 
There  are  many  that  hover  about  the  palace,  and 
yet  do  not  speak  with  the  prince :  so  possibly  we 
may  hover  about  ordinances,  and  not  meet  with 
God  there.  To  go  away  with  the  husk  and  shell 
of  an  ordinance,  and  neglect  the  kernel,  to  please 
ourselves  because  we  have  been  in  the  courts  of 
God,  though  we  have  not  met  with  the  living  God, 
that  is  very  sad.  A  traveller  and  merchant  differ 
thus  ;  a  traveller  goes  from  place  to  place  only  that 
he  may  see  ;  but  a  merchant  goes  from  port  to  port, 
that  he  may  take  in  his  lading,  and  grow  ricii  by 
traffic.  So  a  formal  person  goes  from  ordinance  to 
ordinance,  and  is  satisfied  with  the  work  ;  a  godly 
man  looks  to  take  in  his  lading,  that  he  may  go 
away  from  God  with  God  ;  that  he  may  meet  God 
here,  and  there,  in  this  duty  and  in  that,  and  go 
away  from  God  with  God.  A  man  that  makes  a 
visit  only  by  constraint,  and  not  by  friendship,  it  is 
ail  one  to  him  whether  the  person  be  at  home  or 
no ;  but  another  would  be  glad  to  find  his  friend 
there  :  so  if  we,  from  a  principle  of  love  come  to 
God  in  the  duties,  our  desire  will  be  to  find  the 
living  God.  — Manton,  1620- 1667, 

(3428.)  A  scholar,  knowing  he  is  sent  to  the  uni- 
versity to  get  learning,  gives  up  himself  to  pursue 
this,  and  neglects  other  things ;  'tis  not  riches  or 
pleasures  he  looks  after,  but  learning.  Thus  the 
gracious  soul  bestirs  him,  and  flies  from  one  duty 
to  another,  as  the  bee  from  flower  to  flower,  to 
itore  itself  with  more  and  more  grace  ;  'tis  not 
credit  and  reputation  to  be  thought  a  great  saint, 
but  to  be  indeed  such,  that  he  takes  all  this  pains 
for.     The    Chris' ian  is   compared    to  a   merchant- 


man, that  trades  for  rich  pearls ;  he  is  to  go  to 
ordinances,  as  the  merchant  that  sails  from  port 
to  port,  not  to  see  places,  but  to  take  in  his  lading, 
some  here,  some  there.  A  Christian  should  be 
as  much  ashamed  to  return  empty  from  his  traffic 
with  ordinances,  as  the  merchant  to  come  home 
without  his  lading.  But  alas  !  how  little  is  this 
looked  after  by  many  that  pass  for  great  professcts  ! 
who  are  like  some  idle  persons  that  come  to  the 
market,  not  to  buy  provision,  and  carry  home  what 
they  want,  but  to  gaze  and  look  upon  what  is  theie  to 
be  sold,  to  no  purpose  ;  O  my  brethren,  take  lieed 
of  this.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

4.  In  what  Bpirit  ve  are  to  avail  ourselvea  of 
them. 

(3429.)  Never  think  that  God  is  obliged  to  give 
you  faith,  upon  the  account  of  your  using  the 
means;  but  use  them,  because  He  enjoins  them  as 
means.  Put  them  in  their  own  place,  not  in  Christ's 
room  ;  and  do  as  the  mariner  :  he  cannot  command 
the  wind,  yet  he  lies  ready  at  the  coast,  and  waits 
on  the  wind  ;  and  when  the  gale  comes,  he  hoists 
up  the  sails  :  so,  though  you  cannot  command  the 
wind  of  the  Spirit,  which  blows  where  it  lists ;  yet 
wait  humbly  upon  His  blowing,  and  till  He  come 
and  move  the  waters.         — Erskine,  1685-1752. 

(3430.)  It  is  with  man  and  God  in  the  production 
of  spiritual,  as  with  the  skies  and  the  soil  in  the 
production  of  material,  fruit.  Gathering  harvests 
each  successive  year  from  fields  whose  wealth  of 
fruitfulness  seems  exhaustless,  we  say,  How  bounti- 
ful is  the  earth  ! — tlie  world's,  like  the  widow's, 
meal-barrel,  is  never  empty.  We  speak  of  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  and  the  flowers  of  earth,  and 
the  harvest  of  earth  ;  but  these,  her  offspring,  have 
another  parent.  Heaven  claims  their  sweet  juices, 
and  fragrant  odours,  and  glorious  colours,  as  hers, 
and  most  her  own.  To  the  treasures  of  light,  heat, 
rain,  and  dews,  poured  from  exhaustless  skies  on 
the  dull  cold  soil,  earth's  flowers  owe  their  beauty, 
her  gardens  their  fruits,  her  fields  their  golden 
harvest.  Each,  at  any  rate,  has  its  own  part  to  do  ; 
nor  would  a  husbandman  labour  to  le^s  purpose 
under  a  sunless  sky  on  fields  bound  hard  with  Irost 
and  buried  in  perpetual  snow,  than  preachers  with- 
out the  cheering,  warming,  enlivening  influences  of 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  the  dews  of  grace,  and 
the  blessing  of  the  Spirit.  Man's  is  but  a  husband- 
man's office — to  plant  ;  to  water,  nothing  more. 
"Paul,"  as  the  apostle  himself  says,  "  planteth, 
Apollos  watereth,  but  God  giveth  the  increase  ;  so, 
then,  neither  is  he  that  planteth  anything,  nor  he 
that  watereth,  but  God  that  giveth  the  increase." 
And  thus,  whether  we  preach,  or  are  preached  to, 
when  most  diligent  in  the  use  of  means,  let  a  sense 
of  our  inability  turn  our  eyes  and  all  our  hopes  on 
God.  With  iiim  is  the  blessing  and  the  residue 
of  the  Spirit.  — Guthrie. 

5.  The  folly  of  Pharasalsm. 

(3431.)  We  are  apt  to  feel  as  if,  by  our  prayers, 
we  laid  God  under  obligations  to  serve  us  ;  as  if 
our  feeble,  imperfect  service  were  "  profitable  .^o 
him."  Suppose  some  poor  beggar  should  say  of  x 
rich  nobleman,  "He  is  under  great  obligations  to 
me."  And  when  asked  why?  should  answer,  "I 
have  been  every  day  for  a  great  many  years,  and 
tnid  him  a  long  story  of  my  wants,  and  asked  him  to 
help  me."     You  can  see  how  absurd  this  ajipearsj 

2  O 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


(    578    ) 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


and  yet  it  is  precisely  similar  to  our  conduct,  except 
indeed,  that  ours  Is  much  more  absurcF,  because  tlie 
disparity  between  God  and  us  is  infinitely  greater 
than  can  exist  between  any  two  mortals. 

6.  Are  not  in  themselves  saving. 

(3432.)  Mistake  not,  I  pray  you  :  these  duties 
must  be  had  and  used,  but  still  a  man  must  not 
stay  there.  Prayer  says,  "  There  is  no  salvation  in 
me  ;  "  and  the  sacraments  and  fasting  say,  "  1'Tiere 
is  no  salvation  in  us  :  "  all  these  are  subservient 
helps,  no  absolute  causes  of  "alvation.  A  man  will 
use  his  bucket,  but  he  expects  water /row  the  ivell. 
These  means  are  the  buckets,  but  all  our  comfort, 
and  all  our  life  and  grace,  is  only  in  Christ. 

— Ambrose,  1664. 

(3433-)  Vows,  promises,  shunning  occasions,  re- 
moving temptations,  strictness  and  severiry  in 
duties,  fear  of  hell  and  judgments — these  in  them- 
selves are  but  empty,  weak  means  of  prevailing 
against  sin,  like  the  mighty  sails  of  a  ship,  without 
wind  and  tide.  No  question  but  shunning  occasions, 
strictness  and  severity  in  duties,  watchfulness,  &c., 
do  well  in  their  place  and  order,  like  oars  in  a  boat, 
which,  though  it  be  carried  with  the  tide,  if  well 
managed,  yet  they  may  help  it  to  go  the  faster. 
Howsoever,  it  is  Christ  cruciiied  which  is  the  power 
of  ail.  It  is  Christ  lifted  up,  as  Moses  lifted  up  the 
serpent,  which  strikes  more  soundness  into  the 
wounded  beholder,  than  any  other  way  ;  wherein 
some  have  toiled  all  their  time  for  power  over  cor- 
ruptions, and,  like  Peter,  have  caught  little  or 
nothing  (Luke  v.  5)  because  Jesus  Ciirist  was  not 
in  the  company,  — Ambrose,  1664. 

(3434.)  It  is  not  enough  to  sit  under  the  means  ; 
woiul  experience  teacheth  us  there  are  smne  no 
sun  will  tan  ;  they  keep  their  own  complexion 
under  the  most  shining  and  burning  light  of  the 
gospel.  —Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3435-)  You  know  in  Noah's  flood  all  that  were 
not  in  the  ark,  though  they  climbed  up  the  tallest 
trees,  and  the  highest  mountains  and  hills,  yet  were 
really  drowned  ;  so  let  men  climb  up  to  this  duty 
and  tliat,  yet,  if  they  don't  get  into  Christ,  they 
will  be  really  damned.  It  is  not  thy  closet,  but 
thy  Christ,  that  must  save  thee.  If  a  man  be  not 
interested  in  Christ,  he  may  perish  with  "Our 
Father  "  in  his  mouth.         — Brooks,  i6o8-i6So. 

(3436.)  Take  heed  of  resting  upon  closet  duties, 
take  heed  of  trusting  in  closet  duties.  Noah's  dove 
made  use  of  her  wings,  but  she  did  not  trust  in  her 
win^^s,  but  in  the  ark  ;  so  you  must  make  use  of 
closet  duties,  but  you  must  not  trust  in  your  closet 
duties,  but  in  Jesus,  of  whom  the  ark  was  but  a  type. 
There  are  many  that  go  a  round  of  duties,  as  miU- 
horses  go  their  round  in  a  mill,  and  rest  upon  ihem 
when  they  have  done,  using  the  means  as  mediators, 
and  so  fall  short  of  Christ  and  heaven  at  once. 
Closet  duties  rested  in  will  as  eternally  undo  a  man 
as  the  greatest  and  foulest  enormities  ;  open  wicked- 
ness si.-iys  her  thousands,  but  a  secret  resting  upon 
duties  slays  her  ten  thousands.  Multitudes  bleed 
inwardly  of  this  disease,  and  die  fur  ever.  Open 
profaneness  is  the  broad  dirty  way,  that  leads  to 
hell,  but  closet  duties  rested  in  is  a  sure  way,  though 
cleaner  way,  to  hell.  — Brooks,  1608-16S0. 

(3437-)  The  ordinances  of  religion  are  comjiared 
to  wells  of  water  ;  b'Jt  then,   they  are  like  Jacob's 


well.  The  water  lies  far  below  the  surface  ;  and  to 
the  man  of  world,  the  mere  professor  of  religion  who 
has  the  name  but  not  the  faith  of  a  Christian,  we 
ii.>v  say,  as  the  woman  said  to  our  Lord,  "Sir,  thou 
hast  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the  well  is  deep." 
Faith  is,  as  it  were,  the  rope,  and  our  souls  the 
vessels  which  wc  let  down  into  this  well  to  fill  them 
with  living  water.  — Guthrie. 

7.  Yet  they  are  not  to  be  neglected. 

(3438.)  Thou  canst  not  neglect  man's  teaching, 
but  thou  resistest  the  Spirit's  also.  It  was  for 
something  that  the  apostle  placed  them  so  near:  he 
bids  us  "  Quench  not  the  Spirit  ;"  and  in  the  next 
words,  "Despise  not  prophesying,"  surely  he  would 
have  us  know  that  the  Spirit  is  dangerously 
quenched,  when  prophesying  or  preaching  of  the 
Gospel  is  despised.  Now  the  most  notorious  way 
of  despising  prophesying  or  preaching  is  to  turn 
our  back  on  the  ordinance,  and  not  attend  on  it. 
When  God  sets  vp  the  ministry  of  the  word  in  a 
place,  His  spiri'  ihen  opens  His  school,  and  expects 
that  all  who  would  be  taught  for  heaven,  should 
come  thither.  Oh  take  heed  of  playing  the  truant, 
and  absenting  thyself  from  the  ordinance,  upon 
any  unnecessary  occasion,  much  less  of  casting  off 
the  ordinance  !  If  he  tempts  God,  that  would  be 
kept  from  sin,  and  yet  will  not  keep  out  of  the 
circle  of  the  occasion,  that  leads  to  the  sin  ;  then 
he  tempts  God  as  much  that  would  have  faith,  and 
pretends  his  desire  is,  that  the  Spirit  should  work 
it  ;  but  wdl  not  come  within  the  ordinary  walk  of 
the  Spirit,  where  He  doth  the  work.  Wheiher  is 
it  most  fitting,  that  the  scholar  should  wait  on  his 
master  at  school  to  be  taught,  or  that  the  master 
should  run  after  his  truant  scholar  at  play  in  the 
field  to  teach  him  there,  judge  you  ? 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3439.)  To  live  above  them,  while  we  use  them, 
is  the  way  of  a  Christian  ;  but  to  live  above  ordi- 
nances, as  to  live  without  them,  is  to  live  without 
the  compass  of  the  gospel  lines,  and  so  without 
the  government  of  Christ.  Let  such  beware,  lest 
while  they  would  be  higher  than  Christians,  they 
prove  in  the  end  lower  than  men.  We  are  not  yet 
come  to.  the  time  and  state  where  we  shall  have  all 
from  God's  immediate  hand.  As  God  hath  made 
all  creatures,  and  instituted  all  ordinances  for  us, 
so  will  He  continue  our  need  of  all.  We  must  yet 
be  contented  with  love-tokens  from  Him,  till  we 
come  to  receive  our  all  in  Him.  We  must  be 
thankful  if  Joseph  sustain  our  lives,  by  relieving  us 
in  our  famine  with  His  provisions,  till  we  come  to 
see  His  owu  face.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3440.)  The  power  is  all  of  God  ;  the  means  are 
likewise  of  His  appointment ;  and  He  always  is 
pleased  to  work  by  such  means  as  may  show  that 
the  power  is  His.  What  was  Moses's  rod  in  itself 
or  the  trumpets  that  threw  down  Jericho?  What  in- 
fluence could  the  pool  of  .'-iiloam  have,  that  the  eyes  of 
the  blind  man,  by  wabhing  in  it,  should  be  opened? 
or  what  could  Ezekiels  leeble  breath  contribute  to 
the  making  dry  bones  live  ?  all  these  means  were 
exceedingly  disproportioned  to  the  effect  ;  but  He 
who  ordered  them  to  be  used,  accompanied  them 
with  His  power.  Yet,  if  Moses  had  gone  without 
his  rod,  il  Joshua  had  slighted  the  ram's  horns,  if 
the  prophet  had  thought  il  foolislmess  to  speak  to 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


(     K19    ) 


MEAXS  OF  GRACE. 


dry  bones,   or  the  blind  man  refused  to  wash  his 
eyes,  nothing  could  have  been  done. 

— iSirwton,  1725-1807. 

(3441.)  Means — the  table  of  the  Lord,  the  pulpit, 
the  pages  of  the  Bible,  the  family  altar,  the  closet 
oratory,  are  of  no  value  unless  as  putting  us  in 
communication  with  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  and  used 
as  the  kite  which  the  philosopher  sends  up  to  draw 
down  the  lightnings  of  the  skies  ;  or  the  bucket 
which  the  cottager  sends  down  to  draw  up  water 
from  the  well.  Then,  powerless  as  they  are  ia 
themselves,  they  become  the  blessed  and  mighty 
instrument  of  spiritual  good  — the  sails  that  catch 
the  wind  and  impel  the  vessel  on  ;  the  concave 
mirror  that,  placed  before  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness, gathers  His  beams  into  its  burning  locus  to 
warm  the  coldest,  and  melt  the  hardest  heart  ; 
eagle-wings  to  raise  our  souls  to  heaven  ;  conduits, 
like  the  pipes  that  bring  water  to  our  city  from  these 
Pentland  hills,  to  convey  streams  of  grace,  and 
peace,  and  purity  from  their  fountain  in  heaven  to 
our  souls  on  earth.  — Guthrie. 

(3442.)  God  loves  to  effect  His  greatest  works  by 
means  lending  under  ordinary  circumstances  to 
produce  the  very  opposite  of  what  is  to  be  done. 
God  walls  the  sea  with  sand.  God  clears  the  air 
with  storms.  God  warms  the  earth  with  snow. 
So  in  the  world  of  grace.  He  brings  water  in  the 
desert,  not  from  the  soft  earth,  but  the  flinty  rock. 
He  heals  the  sting  of  the  serpent  of  fire  by  the 
serpent  of  brass.  He  overthrows  the  walls  of 
Jericho  by  ram's  horns.  He  slays  a  thousand  men 
with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass.  lie  cures  salt  water 
with  salt.  He  fells  the  giant  with  a  sling  and  a 
stone.  And  thus  does  the  Son  of  God  work  in  the 
gospel.  He  cures  the  blind  man  by  that  which 
seemed  likely  to  increase  his  blindness, — by  anoint- 
ing his  eyes  with  clay.  He  exalts  us  to  heaven  by 
the  stumbling-block  of  the  cross. 

— Bishop  WordsT-vorth. 

8.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  to  be  di.ig-ently 
used. 

(l.)   That  we  may  thereby  show  our  love  to  God. 

(3443.)  He  that  truly  lovelh  his  friend  trans- 
portcih  himself  often  to  the  place  where  he  was 
wont  to  see  his  friend  ;  he  deligliteth  in  reading 
his  letters,  and  in  handling  the  gages  and  monu- 
ments that  he  hath  left  behind  him.  How  grateful 
is  the  sight  of  anything  that  presents  unto  him  the 
memorial  of  his  absent  friend  !  And  thus  the  child 
of  God,  to  testify  his  love  to  Him,  transporteth 
himself  often  to  the  place  .where  he  may  fmd  God 
in  His  sanctuary,  amongst  His  saints.  He  delights 
in  His  letters  (the  Scriptures),  in  those  holy  pledL;es 
(the  Sacraments),  which  He  hath  left  behind  llim, 
as  tokens  of  His  goodwill,  until  He  come  again. 
— Thomas  de  Trugilio. 

(2.)  Because  God  has  appointed  them. 

(3444.)  If  a  king  should  give  unto  one  of  his 
subjects  a  princely  palace  upon  condition  that  he 
shall  go  into  it  in  the  way  which  he  shall  prescribe, 
he  would,  no  doubt,  take  what  pains  he  could  to 
know  the  way,  and  afterward  endeavour  to  continue 
in  it  :  so,  likewise,  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  liie 
most  glorious  and  royal  palace  that  ever  was,  and 
God  hath  bestowed  the  same  on  His  elect,  and  He 


requires  nothing  at  their  hands  but  that  they  would 
turn  their  faces  from  this  world  and  walk  unto  it 
in  the  way  which  lleiialh  chalked  lorth  unto  them 
in  His  Word  ;  tlierefoie,  if  tht-y  be  desirous  to 
have  salvation  and  life  everlasting,  they  must  come 
forth  of  the  broad  way  that  leads  to  destruction, 
and  enter  into  the  strait  way  that  leads  to  eternal 
life — they  must  acquaint  themselves  with  the  guides, 
which  are  the  faithlul  ministers  of  the  Word,  who 
will  cry  unto  them,  "  Here  is  the  way  ;  walk  ye  in 
it  ! "  when  they  shall  go  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the 
left.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(3445')  There  are  no  men  more  careful  of  the 
use  of  means  than  those  that  are  surest  of  a  good 
issue  and  conclusion,  for  the  one  stirs  up  diligence 
in  the  other.  Assurance  of  the  end  stirs  up  dili- 
gence in  the  means.  For  the  soul  of  a  believing 
Christian  knows  that  God  has  decreed  both  ;  both 
fall  under  the  same  decree  :  wlien  God  proposed  to 
do  such  a  thing.  He  proposed  to  do  it  by  such  and 
such  means.  TrUit,  therefore,  is  with  diligence  in 
the  use  of  all  means  that  God  has  ordained.  He 
tlmt  trusts  a  physician's  skill,  will  be  very  careful 
to  observe  v.hat  was  prescribed,  and  will  omit 
nothing.  It  is  but  presumption  ;  it  is  not  trust 
where  there  is  not  a  care  in  the  use  of  means,  as  we 
may  pretend  to  trust  in  God  and  sever  the  means 
from  the  end  ;  they  are  regardless  of  the  means  of 
salvation.  — SiMes,  15  77-163  5. 

(3446.)  What  is  Jordan  that  I  should  wash  in  it? 
What  is  the  preaching  that  I  should  attend  on  it, 
where  I  hear  nothing  but  what  I  knew  before  i 
What  are  these  beggarly  elements  of  water,  bread, 
and  wine?  Are  not  these  the  reasonings  of  a  soul 
tiiat  forgets  who  appoints  the  means  of  grace? 
What,  though  it  be  clay,  let  Christ  use  it,  and  it 
shall  open  the  eyes,  though  in  itself  more  likely  to 
put  them  out.  — Gurmill,   1 61 7-1 679. 

(3447.)  Use  the  means  appointed  by  God. 
Though  we  are  torches  which  cannot  light  our- 
selves, yet  we  may  bring  ourselves  to  the  word, 
which  may  both  melt  and  kindle.  Though  the 
giving  rain  and  the  increasing  the  fruits  of  the 
earth  be  from  God,  yet  no  man  ever  held  ploughing, 
and  sowing,  and  pruning  unnecessary.  The  work 
of  grace  is  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  a  "wind 
which  bloweth  where  it  listeth."  But  may  we  not 
wait  for  those  gales?  May  we  not  spread  our  sails 
and  watch  for  the  successlul  breathings?  How  do 
you  know  but  whilst  you  are  waiting  upon  God  in 
an  humble  posture,  God  may  unlock  your  hearts, 
and  pour  in  the  treasures  of  His  grace?  "While 
Peter  yet  spake  these  words,  the  Holy  Ghost  fell 
on  them  all  which  heard  the  word."  If  you  will 
not  harden  your  hearts  to-day,  God  may  soften  your 
hearts  to-day  :  "  'i"o  day,  if  you  will  hear  His  voice." 
These  are  tlie  times  v\  lierein  God  parleys  with  the 
soul,  and  inclines  it  to  the  happy  surrender. 
Though  the  power  is  God's,  as  the  water  is  the 
fountain,  yet  He  has  appointed  the  channels  of  His 
ordinances  through  which  to  convey  it  :  "Ministers 
by  whom  you  believed."  The  gospel  begets 
instrumentally,  God  principally  (i  Cor.  iv.  15). 
God  calls  by  the  gospel  (2  Thess.  ii.  14).  As  God 
is  the  Governor  ol  the  world,  yet  it  is  by  instruments 
and  second  causes,  which  He  clasps  together  to 
bring  about  His  own  designs.  He  that  does  no* 
i  use  itiese  means  may  ff-ar  that  God  will  never  worlr 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


(    S8o    ) 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


savingly  upon  him,  for  it  is  an  utter  refusing  any 
acceptance  of  tliis  grace,  or  anythini;:  tending  to  it. 
This  is  to  be  peremptory,  never  to  do  ourselves  any 
good,  or  receive  any  from  God.  In  despising  the 
means,  you  despise  the  goodness  of  God. 

— Charnock,  162S-1680. 

(3448.)  There  are  some  men  that  will  refuse  to 
labour  for  the  elevation  of  tlie  community — for  the 
awakening  and  conversion  of  men — by  means  which 
long  experience  has  shown  do  stand  connected  with 
that  result,  because  they  fear  to  take  God's  work 
out  of  Mis  hands.  It  would  be  no  more  presumjitu- 
ous  than  it  is  to  work  in  the  field  which  God  has 
made,  and  sow  seed,  and  raise  crops  there.  God's 
sovereignty  relates  to  the  natural  world  as  really  as 
to  the  moral.  Ploughing  and  sowing  do  not  trench 
on  God's  prerogatives.  Neither  does  spiritual 
activity.  Cause  and  effect,  means  and  ends,  are 
connected  in  religious  things  just  as  much  as  in 
physical.  Waiting  when  you  should  work  is  just  as 
bad  as  would  be  autlacious  interference  in  things 
above  our  reach.  Every  man  must  do  what  he 
can  ;  and  men  are  much  more  in  danger  of  doing 
too  little  than  too  much.  Indolence  is  more  fre- 
quent than  irreverence.  No  ship-master  infringes 
upon  God's  prerogatives  when  he  takes  care  of  his 
siiip  in  a  storm.  No  farmer  feels  that  he  is  en- 
croaching upon  God's  sovereignty  when  he  culti- 
vates the  crops  for  which  he  prays.  He  asks  for 
daily  bread,  and  then  earns  it.  No  manufacturer 
or  business  man  feels  that  he  is  trespassing  upon 
God's  prerogative  when  he  looks  after  his  own  busi- 
ness. They  believe,  if  they  are  good  men,  in  God's 
blessing;  but  they  always  say,  "  If  a  man  would 
receive  God's  blessings,  he  must  prepare  a  soil  for 
them  to  blossom  on." 

So  it  is  in  spiritual  things.  We  are  to  work  in 
reliance  upon  means,  and  then  wait  for  God's 
blessing.  And  waiting  for  God  to  do  for  us  what 
we  can  do  for  ourselves,  although  it  may  bear  the 
name  of  religion,  is  really  nothing  but  intidelity. 

— Beecher. 

(3.)  Because  it  is  by  them  that  we  have  communion 
with  Christ. 

(3449. )  Use  thy  duties,  as  Noah's  dove  did  her 
wings,  to  carry  thee  to  tiie  ark  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  where  only  tb.ere  is  rest.  If  she  had  never 
used  her  wings,  she  had  fnllen  in  the  water  ;  and  if 
siie  had  not  returned  to  the  ark,  she  had  found  no 
rest  ;  so,  if  thou  shalt  use  no  duties,  but  cast  them 
ofi",  thou  art  sure  to  perish  ;  and  if  they  convey  thee 
not  to  Christ,  thou  mayest  "lie  down  in  sorrow." 
Or  as  it  is  with  a  poor  man  that  is  to  get  over  a 
great  water  for  a  treasure  on  the  other  side,  though 
lie  cannot  fetch  the  boat,  he  calls  for  it,  and  uses  it 
lo  carry  him  over  to  the  treasure.  So  Christ  is  in 
heaven,  and  thou  on  earth  ;  lie  does  not  come  to 
thee,  and  thou  canst  not  get  to  Him  ;  now  call  for 
a  boat ;  though  there  is  no  grace,  no  good,  no  salva- 
tion in  a  pitiless  duty,  yet  use  it  to  carry  thee  over 
to  the  treasure,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  When  thou 
comest  to  hear,  say,  "  Have  over,  Lord,  by  this 
sermon."  When  thou  comest  to  pray,  say,  "  Have 
over,  Lord,  by  this  prayer."       — Ambrose,  1664. 

(3450.)  A  woman  like  the  Samaritan  in  the 
gospel,  comes  with  a  pitcher  to  draw  water  at  a 
well.  Her  object  is  to  reach  and  procure  water; 
and  she  does  this  by  letting  down  the  pitcher  into 


the  well,  and  drawing  it  up  again.  It  is  at  once 
understood  that  the  pitcher  is  not  the  same  thing  as 
the  muscular  pction,  by  which  it  is  let  down  and 
drawn  up.  Both  must  contribute  to  the  result ; 
for  without  either  pitcher  or  muscular  action  no 
water  could  be  obtained  ;  but  the  pitcher  is  external 
to  the  person,  the  muscular  action  a  movement  of 
the  person.  It  is  also  clearly  seen  that  neither 
pitcher  nor  muscular  action  are  water, — that  the 
arm  might  put  itself  forth  for  ever,  and  the  pitcher 
be  let  down  continually,  but  if  it  were  a  dry  pit  into 
which  the  vessel  was  lowered,  no  refreshment  could 
be  had  thereby. 

The  figure  is  of  easy  application.  Christ  is  the 
Well  of  the  Water  of  Life,  from  whom  alone  can  be 
drawn  those  streams  of  grace,  which  refresh,  and 
quicken,  and  fertilise  the  soul.  It  is  by  faith  that 
the  soul  reaches  out  after  this  living  water  ;  faith  is 
the  soul's  muscular  action,  by  which  the  water  is 
drawn  up  and  brought  into  use.  But  faith  needs 
as  an  implement  those  means  which  Christ  has 
appointed,  and  particularly  the  mean  of  means, 
which  He  constituted  for  the  conveyance  of  Him- 
self to  faithful  souls.  These  means  are  the  pitcher 
in  which  the  water  is  conveyed.  Faith  is  not  a 
Christ ;  neither  are  sacraments  a  Christ  ;  but  faith 
(under  all  circumstances)  and  sacraments,  where 
they  may  be  had,  are  necessary  to  the  appropriation 
and  enjoyment  of  Christ.  — Goulbiim. 

{4.)  Because  we  need  them. 

(3451.)  Neglect  not  private  or  public  ordinances. 
Your  bodies  may  as  probably  live  without  diet,  as 
your  souls  w'thout  duties.  This  is  God's  way,  by 
which  He  infuselh  grace  where  it  is  wanting,  and 
increaseth  grace  where  it  is.  As  the  head  by  the 
nerves  and  sinews,  as  organs,  conveyeth  animal 
spirits  to  the  whole  body,  so  doth  the  church's  head, 
Christ  Jesus,  by  ordinances  convey  His  spirit  and 
grace  to  His  members.  Doth  not  experience  teach 
you  that  your  hearts  are  like  water  ;  though  heated 
a  little  while  over  the  fire  of  the  means  of  grace,  yet 
are  no  sooner  taken  off,  but  they  are  returning  to 
their  former  coldness.  Mariners  that  swim  against 
wind  and  tide,  must  row  hard  and  continue  at  it ; 
if  they  intermit  but  a  little  while,  how  far  and  how 
forcibly  are  they  carried  backwards  !  It  is  not  un- 
known to  you,  if  ye  have  any  knowledge  in  spiritual 
affairs,  how  busily  and  unweariedly  the  devil,  world, 
and  flesh  are  drawing  you  to  hell ;  it  highly  con- 
cerneth  you  to  be  always,  by  duties,  fetching  in 
supplies  from  above,  if  ever  ye  would  arrive  at 
heaven.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(3452.)  The  Christian's  armour  decays  two  ways  : 
either  by  violent  battery,  when  the  Christian  is 
overcome  by  temptation  to  sin  ;  or  else  by  neglect- 
ing to  furbish  and  scour  it  with  the  use  of  those 
means  which  are  as  oil  to  keep  it  clean  and  bright, 
— Gumall,  1617-1671. 

(3453.)  Be  conscientious  in  the  performance  of 
holy  duties.  A  fire  which  for  a  while  shoots  up  to 
heaven  will  faint  both  in  its  heat  and  brightness, 
without  fresh  supplies  of  nourishing  matter.  Bring 
fresh  wood  to  the  altar  morning  and  evening,  as  the 
priests  were  bound  for  the  nourishment  of  the  holy 
fire  (Lev.  vi.  12).  God  in  all  His  promises  supposes 
the  use  of  means.  When  He  promised  Hezf.kiah 
his  life  for  fifteen  years,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that 
he  should  live  without  eating  and  exercise.     It  if 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


(     581     ) 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


both  our  sin  and  misery  to  neglect  the  means. 
Therefore  let  an  holy  and  a  humble  spirit  breathe 
in  all  our  acts  of  worship.  If  we  once  become  list- 
less to  duty,  we  shall  quickly  become  lifeless  in  it. 
If  we  languish  in  our  duties,  we  shall  not  long  be 
lively  in  our  graces.  The  loss  of  the  stomach  is  a 
sign  of  the  loss  of  health.  If  we  would  flourish,  we 
must  drink  of  those  waters  that  spring  up  to  ever- 
lasting life.  If  we  desire  our  leaves  should  prosper, 
we  should  often  plant  ourselves  by  the  rivers  of 
waters  ;  we  must  be  where  the  sun  shines,  the  dews 
drop,  and  the  spirit  blows. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(3454.)  Pride  makes  men  think  that  they  are  so 
whole  and  well,  as  to  have  little  need  of  all  this 
preaching,  and  praying,  and  reading,  and  holy 
conference,  and  meditation,  and  heavenly-minded- 
ness.  They  feel  not  that  need  or  sweetness  which 
should  help  them  to  perceive,  that  frequency  is 
good  or  necessary  for  them.  If  the  physician  bid 
two  men  "eat  often,"  and  one  of  them  hath  a 
strong  appetite,  and  the  other  hath  none  ;  he  that 
is  hungry  will  interpret  the  word  "  often,"  to  mean 
thrice  a  day,  at  least,  and  he  that  hath  no  appetite 
will  think  that  once  a  day  is  "  often."  Healthful 
men  do  not  use  to  ask,  "  How  prove  you  that  I  am 
tiound  to  eat  twice  or  thrice  a  day?"  Feeling  the 
need  and  benefit,  they  will  be  satisfied  with  an 
allowance  without  a  command.  They  will  rather 
ask,  "  How  prove  you  that  I  may  not  do  it?"  for 
they  feel  reason  in  themselves  to  move  them  to  it, 
if  God  restrain  them  not.  So  it  is  with  a  humble 
soul  about  the  means  of  his  edification  and  salvation. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3455.)  I  have  no  faith  nor  trust  to  put  in  any 
road  to  heaven  other  than  that  which  our  Saviour 
trod.  Our  Forerunner,  He  has  left  His  footprints 
on  the  path  of  ordinances  ;  and  holding  Him  to  be 
our  Pattern  as  well  as  our  Propitiation,  I  will  ven- 
ture on  no  path  but  that  He  travelled.  Can  any- 
thing be  plainer  than  this,  that  if  our  blessed  Lord 
did  not  neglect  the  means  of  grace,  much  less  should 
we,  can  we  afford  to  do  so  ?  How  far  wrong,  there- 
fore, are  those,  belonging  to  the  Society  of  Friends, 
or  to  sects  which  have  sprung  up  in  our  own  day, 
who,  though  in  many  respects  exemplary  Christians, 
affect  a  spirituality  to  which  our  Lord  lent  no  sanc- 
tion 1  Rashly  disparaging,  and  dispensing  with 
the  use  of  appointed  ordinances,  they  say  that  a 
Christian  man  should  be  above  such  beggarly  ele- 
ments and  ruilinientary  things  ;  cultivating  nothing 
but  a  purely  spiritual  worship. 

These  good  people  seem  to  forget  that  we  are  not 
yet  in  heaven  ;  nor  are  yet  fit  for  it.  We  need  all 
possible  help  to  get  there  ;  and  with  the  tide  run- 
ning strong  the  other  way,  require  to  put  every  oar 
in  llie  water,  and  crowd  all  sail  upon  the  mast. 
Dragged  downward  by  the  many  and  powerful  at- 
tractions of  this  world,  we  can  no  more  afford  to 
dispense  with  means  than  a  bird  to  dispense  with 
wings.  The  Christian,  spurning  the  earth,  is  to 
rise  like  a  lark,  singing  and  soaring  in  the  skies  ; 
but  mark  how,  while  that  bird  sings,  she  beats  the 
air  with  rapid  pinions,  and  makes  ceaseless  efiorts 
to  ascend.  Instead  of  treating  the  means  of  grace 
with  neglect,  had  we  been  more  devout  and  diligent 
in  the  use  of  them  ;  had  we  risen  as  early  to  our 
prayers  as  men  to  their  work — the  peasant  t<>  thf» 
plough,  the  weaver  to  the  loom,  the  smith  to  his 


glowing  forge  ;  had  we  been  as  prompt  to  improve 
Sabbaths,  sacraments,  prayer  meetings,  and  holy 
seasons,  as  the  merchant  rising  markets,  to  make 
money  ;  the  traveller  gleams  of  fine  weather,  to 
push  homeward  ;  the  seamen  times  of  fair  wind  to 
shake  out  all  his  canvass— how  much  more  Christ- 
like had  we  been  ;  how  much  better  prepared  for 
death  ;  how  much  nearer  heaven  ;  how  much  more 
fit,  and  not  only  more  fit  for  it,  but  fonder  of  it,  and 
ready  to  say  with  Christ,  I  leave  the  world  and  go 
to  my  Father  1  —  Guthrie, 

(5 .)   That  we  may  be  in  the  way  of  blessing. 

(3456.)  Christ  compares  the  regenerating  power 
of  the  Spirit  unto  the  winds  (John  iii.  8).  The 
mariner  cannot  sail  without  wind,  nor  can  he  pro- 
cure a  wind  at  his  pleasure,  for  it  blows  when  and 
where  it  lists,  but  he  may  thrust  his  vessel  off  a 
shore,  and  spreads  his  sails,  to  take  advantage  of  a 
gale  when  it  blows.  Those  that  wait  upon  the 
Lord  in  the  use  of  means  and  ordinances,  they 
hereby  spread  their  sails,  are  ready  for  the  Spirit's 
motions,  which  bloweth  where  it  listeth.  There  is 
more  hope  of  these  than  of  such  who  lie  aground, 
neglecting  the  means  of  grace,  which  are  both  as 
sail  and  tackling.  Tlie  two  blind  men  of  whom  we 
read  (Matt.  xx.  30),  they  could  not  open  their  own 
eyes  ;  that  was  beyond  their  power,  but  they  could 
get  into  the  way  where  Jesus  passed,  and  they 
could  cry  to  Him  for  sight,  who  only  could  recover 
it.  Those  that  are  diligent  in  the  use  of  means  and 
ordinances  they  sit  in  the  way  where  Jesus  passes 
by,  who  use5  not  to  reject  those  that  cry  unto  Him. 
— Clarkson,  1621-1686. 

(3457.)  Be  still  in  the  king's  highway,  in  the  use 
of  means  ;  for,  though  the  natural  use  of  means  and 
God's  saving  grace  have  no  connection,  yet  there  is 
far  less  a  connection  betwixt  that  grace,  and  the 
neglect  of  means.  The  poor  beggar,  tliat  needs  an 
alms  from  the  king,  goes  to  the  king's  highway, 
where  he  passes  ;  and  surely  he  is  nearer  his  pur- 
pose, than  if  he  should  go  to  the  top  of  a  mountain, 
where  the  king  never  comes;  so,  be  you  still  in  the 
use  of  means,  in  the  Lord's  way. 

— Erskine,  1685-1752. 

(6.)  Notwithstanding  that  to  some  they  are  not  a 
blessing. 

(3458.)  That  they  do  no  good  to  some,  forms  no 
reason  why  we  should  nes^'lect  or  despise  ordinances. 
It  is  no  fault  in  the  bread,  that,  thrust  between  a 
dead  man's  teeth,  it  does  not  nourish  him.  The 
truth  is,  that  we  must  have  spiritual  life  to  get  the 
benefit  of  religious  ordinances.  Water  will  revive 
a  withering,  but  not  a  withered  plant ;  wine  will 
revive  a  dying,  but  not  a  dead  man  ;  the  breath  of 
your  mouth,  or  the  breeze  of  heaven,  will  rekinule 
the  smouldering  coal,  but  not  the  cold,  grey  ashes 
of  the  hearth.  And  it  is  only  spiritual  life  that  can 
derive  benefit  from  such  ordinances  as  are  intended 
to  revive  the  faint  and  give  strength  to  the  weary. 

— Guthrie. 

(7.)  Notwithstanding  that  they  may  not  he  imme- 
diately a  blessing  to  ourselves. 

(3459.)  We  must  follow  God  from  ordinance  to 
ordinance.  It  argues  a  great  deal  of  pride  in  carnal 
men  if  God  does  not  meet  them  presentlv  they 
throw  off  all.     Now  and  then  they  will  see  what 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 


(     582     ) 


MEDITA  TION. 


they  shall  have  for  calling  upon  God,  but  if  God  do 
Uot  answer  at  the  fust  knock  they  are  gone. 

— Manton,  1 620-1 667. 

9.  Tlie  danger  of  neglecting  them, 

(3460.)  As  presumptuous  sins  are  the  thieves 
that  with  a  high  hand  rob  the  Christian  of  his  com- 
fort, so  sloth  and  negligence  are  the  rust  that  in 
time  will  fret  into  his  comfort,  and  eat  out  the 
heart  and  strength  of  it.  It  is  impossible  that  the 
Christian  who  is  careless  and  secure  in  his  walking, 
infrequent  or  negligent  in  his  communion  witii  God, 
should  long  be  owner  of  much  peace  and  comfort. 
What  if  thou  dost  not  pour  water  of  presumptuous 
sins  into  the  lamp  of  thy  joy  to  quench  it,  'tis 
enough  if  thou  dost  not  pour  oil  of  duty  to  feed  and 
maintain  it.  Thou  art  a  murderer  to  thy  comfort 
T:y  starving  it,  as  well  as  by  stabbing  it. 

— Salter. 

10.  The  guilt  of  despising  them. 

(3461.)  Those  that  turn  their  backs  on  God's 
ordinances,  and  in  rebellion  to  His  commandments, 
live  in  sins  against  conscience — can  they  wonder 
that  He  hides  His  face  from  them,  when  they  turn 
their  backs  on  Him?  Rebellious  per-ons,  that  will 
not  yield  meekly  to  God's  ordinances,  and  submit 
to  His  commandments,  do  they  wonder  that  God 
takes  good  things  from  them?  When  we  sin  we 
turn  our  backs  upon  God,  and  our  face  to  the  devil 
and  the  world  and  pleasures.  When  men  turn 
their  faces  to  sin,  to  pleasures  and  vanity,  and  their 
backs  on  God,  do  they  wonder  that  He  suffers 
them  to  melt  and  pine  away  ?  Let  us  do  as  the 
■lowers  do,  the  marigold,  &c.  They  turn  themselves 
to  the  sun.  Let  our  souls  do  so.  Let  us  turn  our- 
selves to  God  in  meditation  and  prayers,  striving 
and  wrestling  with  Him.  Look  to  Him,  eye  Him 
in  His  ordinances  and  promises  ;  and  have  com- 
munion with  Him  all  the  ways  we  can.  Let  our 
souls  open  and  shut  with  Him.  When  He  hides 
His  face,  let  us  droop,  as  the  flowers  do  till  the  sun 
come  again.  When  the  waters  fall,  the  flowers 
droop  and  hold  down  their  heads.  When  the  sun 
rises  the  next  morning,  up  they  go  again  as  if  there 
had  never  been  a  shower.  So  when  we  have  not 
daily  comfort  of  Spirit  in  peace  of  conscience,  let 
us  never  rest  seeking  God's  face  in  His  ordinances 
and  by  prayer,  and  that  will  cheer  a  drooping  soul, 
as  the  sunbeams  do  the  flagging  flowers. 

— :iidbes,  1 577-1635. 

(3462.)  If  the  wounded  Jew  in  the  parable  should 
have  cast  away  the  twopence  which  the  Samaritan 
left  to  provide  for  him,  it  had  been  an  argument 
that  he  neither  regarded  him  nor  his  kindness. 
And  it  was  a  sign  that  Esau  loved  not  God,  because 
he  esteemed  not  his  birthright.  Thus  the  true 
love  of  God  is  far  from  us  if  we  set  not  a  high 
esteem  upon  His  ordinances,  those  pledges  of  His 
favour  which  He  hath  left  with  us,  to  wat,  the  woid 
and  sacraments;  the  word,  wherein  we  hear  Him 
speak  lovingly, —  and  the  sacraments,  wherein  we 
see  Him  speak  comfortably  to  us  ;  the  one  to  heal 
us  of  our  wounds,  the  other,  an  earnest  of  the 
blessings  which  we  had  forfeited  by  sin. 

— Spencer,  1658. 

11.  Are  all  to  be  esteemed  and  used. 

(3463.)  When  at  the  taking  of  New  Carthage  in 
Spain,    two   scvidiers  contended   about   the    uiura,l 


crown  due  to  him  who  first  climbed  up  the  wall,  aa 
that  the  whole  army  was  thereupon  in  danger  of 
division,  Scipio,  the  general,  said  he  knew  that 
they  both  got  up  the  wall  together,  and  so  gave 
the  scaling  crown  to  them  both.  Thus  a  good 
orthodox  Christian  doth  not  clash  God's  ordinances 
together  about  precedency  ;  he  makes  not  odious 
comparisons  betwixt  jirayer,  preaching,  and  cate- 
chising, prayer  public  and  private,  [Premeditate  and 
extemporary,  but  compounds  all  controversies  about 
God's  ordinances  by  praising  them  all,  practising 
them  all,  and  thanking  God  for  them  all. 

— Fuller,  i6oS-l66r. 

(3464.)  The  efficacy  of  co-ordinate  means  lies  in 
their  conjunction.  The  force  of  an  army  consists 
not  in  this  troop,  or  that  one  regiment,  but  in  all 
the  parts  in  a  body.  And  if  any  single  troop  or 
company  shall  presume  to  fight  the  enemy  alone, 
what  can  they  expect  but  to  be  routed  by  the  enemy, 
and  punished  by  their  general  also?  Let  not  any 
say,  they  use  this  means  and  that  ;  if  any  one  be 
willini;ly  neglected,  the  golden  chain  of  obedience 
is  broke  :  and  Boituin  non  nisi  ex  iiUc'gris. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

12.  Why  the  power  to  delight  in  them  is  some* 
times  withheld. 

(3465.)  When  all  means  are  strengthless  and 
dead,  and  yet  the  mercy  comes,  "  Oh,"  says  a  soul, 
"now  I  see  that  God  is  God  Almighty,  God  all- 
sufficient."  "  She  that  is  a  widow  and  desolate," 
saith  the  apostle,  "trusteth  in  God."  We  seldom 
trust  in  God  till  a  desolation  comes  upon  the  means, 
then  we  learn  to  trust  in  God.  So  long  as  one  who 
is  learning  to  swim  can  touch  the  bottom,  can  touch 
the  earth  with  his  foot,  he  does  not  commit  himself 
to  the  stream  ;  but  when  he  can  feel  no  bottom, 
then  he  commits  himself  to  the  mercy  of  the  waves. 
Now,  so  long  as  a  man  can  stand  upon  the  second 
cause,  and  can  feel  the  bottom  with  his  feet,  he  does 
not  commit  himself  to  the  stream  of  mercy  ;  but 
when  once  the  second  cause  is  gone,  and  he  cannot 
feel  the  bottom,  then  he  commits  himself  to  the 
stream  of  mercy.  — Salter, 


MEDITATION. 
I.    IVHA  T  IT  IS. 

(3466.)  In  order  to  meditation  we  must  call  to 

rememl)rance  the  things  we  have  learned,  and  we 
must  seek  to  store  our  minds  with  new  and  fresh 
truths.  But  neither  of  these  is  meditation  itself. 
To  remember  a  truth  or  a  fact  is  not  to  ponder  it. 
In  the  one  case  we  simply  possess  the  truth,  in  the 
other  we  use  it.  A  passage  remembered  is  so  much 
food  laid  up  in  a  storehouse ;  a  passage  meditated 
is  so  much  food  eaten  and  digested  and  incorporated 
with  ourselves.  Memory  is  the  casket  which  holds 
the  jewels  ;  meditation  is  that  wiiich  brings  tliem 
forth,  and  arranges  them  upon  the  person,  and  sets 
out  both  to  the  best  advantage.  — Alexander. 

(3467.)  Deliberate  meditation  is  like  the  cultiva- 
tion of  an  estate  of  which  we  know  the  value,  and 
which  yields  to  us  a  sure  and  certain  profit. 

—SalUr. 


MEDITATION. 


(    583     ) 


MED  IT  A  TION. 


II.  IS  PRACTISED  BY  ALL  WHO  LOVE 
GOD. 

(3468.)  The  mariner's  needle  will  always  turn  to 
the  north  star, — though  it  be  closed  and  shut  up  in 
a  coffer  of  wood  or  gold,  yet  it  loses  not  its  nature  ; 
so  the  true  Christian  is  always  looking  to  the  "  Star 
of  Jacob," — whether  he  be  shut  up  in  a  prison,  or 
shut  himself  up  in  his  closet,  he  is  ever  longing 
after  Jesus  Christ.  A  true  lover  delights  most  to 
visit  his  friend  alone,  when  he  can  enjoy  privacy 
with  him. 

When  a  prince  passes  by  in  the  streets,  then  all, 
even  strangers,  will  flock  about  him  and  look  upon 
him ;  but  his  wife  and  children  think  this  not 
enough,  but  follow  him  home,  and  are  not  satisfied 
unless  they  can  enjoy  him  there.  A  fal^e  Chiistian, 
and  one  that  is  a  stranger  to  God,  if  he  have  but  a 
superficial  view  of  Him  in  His  courts,  is  pleased  ; 
but  the  true  believer,  and  one  that  is  nigh  unto 
Christ,  must  have  retired  converse  with  Him  in  his 
closet,  or  he  is  not  contented. 

The  pulse  of  the  body  beats  as  well  in  solitariness, 
as  in  company,  and  so  does  the  pulse  of  the  gracious 
soul  towards  his  God  and  Saviour. 

— Switinock,  1673. 

(3469.)  The  exercising  thyself  to  godliness  in 
solitude,  will  be  a  probable  proof  of  thy  uprightness. 
Men  are  withheld  in  company  from  doing  evil  by  ihe 
iron  curb  of  fear  or  shame,  and  provoked  to  do 
good  by  the  golden  spurs  of  praise  or  profit  ;  but 
in  solitariness  there  are  no  such  curbs  in  the  way  of 
lust  to  hinder  our  passage,  nor  such  baits  in  the 
way  of  holiness  to  encourage  our  progress.  The 
naked  lineaments  and  natural  thoughts  of  the  soul 
are  best  discerned  in  secret.  The  darkest  night 
may  afford  us  light  enough  to  see  ourselves  by  ; 
when  outward  objects  and  occasions  do  not  inter- 
pose to  hinder  our  light  or  discompose  our  souls. 
No  man's  temper  can  be  discovered  by  his  carriage 
in  a  crowd  of  affairs,  no  more  than  his  countenance 
in  a  troubled  water.  When  the  mind  is  stated  in  a 
due  repose,  it  bewrayeth  her  truest  affections,  which 
in  the  midst  of  business  she  either  does  not  show, 
or  not  observe.  If  many  servants  and  several 
masters  be  together,  busy  and  active,  we  can  hardly 
tell  to  what  masters  the  particular  servants  belong  ; 
but  when  the  masters  be  alone  and  walk  singly, 
their  servants  attend  on  them  and  are  known.  Our 
affections  are  the  servants  of  our  souls,  both  rational 
and  sensual ;  whilst  both  these  masters  are  em- 
ployed, as  in  company  it  sometimes  lalls  out,  and 
they  wait,  it  is  not  easy  to  judge  which  they  serve  ; 
in  solitude  one  takes  upon  itself  the  government, 
and  then  it  is  visible  what  attendants  it  has. 

— Hwinnock,  1673. 

III.  ITS  USEFULNESS. 

1.  It  prepares  us  to  receive  and  retain  the  word 
of  God. 

(3470.)  I  hear  many  say,  "While  we  are  here, 
and  enjoying  the  privilege  of  hearing,  we  are  awed, 
but  when  we  are  gone  out,  we  become  altered  men 
■vgain,  and  the  flame  of  zeal  is  quenched."  What 
then  may  be  done,  that  this  may  not  come  to  pass? 
Let  us  observe  whence  it  arises.  Whence  then  does 
so  great  a  change  m  us  arise  ?  From  the  unbecoming 
employment  of  our  time,  and  from  the  company  of 
evil  men.  For  we  ought  not  as  soon  as  we  retire 
froEC  tlie  communion,  tc  plunge  into  business  un-  • 


suited  to  the  communion,  but  as  soon  as  ever  we 
get  home,  to  take  our  Bible  into  our  hands,  and 
call  our  wife  and  children  to  join  us  in  putting 
together  what  we  have  heard,  and  then,  not  before, 
engage  in  the  business  of  life. 

For  if  after  the  bath  you  would  not  choose  to 
hurry  into  the  market-place,  lest  by  the  business  in 
the  market  you  shoidd  destroy  the  refreshment 
thence  derived  ;  much  more  ought  we  to  act  on  this 
principle  after  the  communion.  But  as  it  is,  we 
do  the  contrary,  and  in  this  very  way  throw  away 
all.  For  while  the  profitable  effect  of  what  has 
been  said  to  us  is  not  yet  well  fixed,  the  great  force 
of  the  things  that  press  upon  us  from  without, 
sweeps  all  entirely  away. 

That  this  then  may  not  be  the  case,  when  you 
retire  from  the  communion,  you  must  account 
nothing  more  necessary,  than  that  you  should  put 
together  the  things  that  have  been  said  to  you. 
Yes,  tor  it  were  the  utmost  folly  for  us,  while  we 
give  up  five  and  even  six  days  to  the  business  of 
this  life,  not  to  bestow  on  things  spiritual  so  much 
as  one  day,  or  rather  not  so  much  as  a  small  part  of 
one  day.  See  ye  not  our  own  children,  that  what- 
ever lessons  are  given  them,  those  they  study 
throughout  the  whole  day  ?  This  then  let  us  do 
likewise,  since  otherwise  we  shall  derive  ho  profit 
from  coming  here,  drawing  water  daily  into  a  vessel 
with  holes,  and  not  bestowing  on  the  retaining  of 
what  we  have  heard,  even  so  much  earnestness,  as 
we  plainly  show  with  respect  to  gold  and  silver. 
For  any  one  who  has  received  a  few  pence,  both 
puts  them  into  a  bag,  and  sets  a  seal  thereon  ;  but 
we,  having  given  us  oracles  more  precious  than 
either  gold  or  costly  stones,  and  receiving  the  trea- 
sures of  the  Spirit,  do  not  put  them  away  in  the 
storehouses  of  our  soul,  but  thoughtlessly  and  at 
random  suffer  them  to  escape  from  our  minds.  Who 
then  will  pity  us  after  all  this,  plotting  against  our 
own  interests,  and  casting  ourselves  into  so  deep  a 
poverty  ?  Therefore,  that  this  may  not  be  so,  let 
us  write  it  down  for  unalterable  law  for  ourselves, 
for  our  wives,  and  for  our  children,  to  give  up  this 
one  day  of  the  week  entire  to  hearing,  and  to  the 
recollection  of  the  things  we  have  heard.  For  thus 
with  greater  aptness  for  learning  sliall  ue  approach 
what  is  next  to  be  said  ;  and  to  us  the  labour  w  ill  be 
less,  and  to  you  the  profit  greater,  when,  bearing  in 
memory  what  has  been  lately  spoken,  ye  hearken 
accordingly  to  what  comes  afterwards.  For  no 
little  does  this  also  contribute  towards  the  under- 
standing of  what  is  said,  when  ye  know  accurately 
the  connection  of  the  thoughts,  which  we  are  busy 
in  weaving  for  you.  For  since  it  is  not  possible  to 
set  down  all  in  one  day,  you  must  by  continued  re- 
membrance make  the  things  laid  belore  you  on 
many  days  into  a  kind  of  chain,  and  so  wrap  it 
about  your  soul  :  that  the  body  of  the  Scriptures 
may  appear  entire.  — Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(3471.)  Meditation  imprints  and  fastens  a  truth 
upon  the  mind  and  memory.  Deliberate  thougiits 
stick  with  us  ;  as  a  lesson  we  have  conned  is  not 
easily  forgotten.  Civet  long  kept  in  a  box,  the 
scent  remains  when  the  civet  is  taken  out.  Sermons 
meditated  on  are  remembered  by  us  long  afier  they 
are  delivered.  — Alanion,  1620-1647. 

(3472.)  Thou  must  be  a  meditative  hearer. 
Meditation  is  to  the  sermon  what  the  harrow  is  to 


MED  IT  A  TION. 


(     584    ) 


MED  IT  A  TION' 


the  seed ;  it  covers  those  truths,  which  else  might 
have  been  picked  away.     — Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(3473-)  Notwithstanding  we  may  have  received 
important  ideas  into  our  minds,  yet  without  subse- 
quent meditation,  they  will  soon  be  overgrown  like 
flowers  and  delicate  plants  in  a  garden  which  is 
neglected.  — Hyatt,  181 1. 

2.  It  makes  Divine  truth  effectual  to  our 
salvation. 

(3474.)  Any  benefit  to  be  derived  from  hearing 
the  word  exceedingly  depends  on  meilitation. 
Before  we  hear  the  word,  meditation  is  like  a 
plough,  which  opens  the  ground  to  receive  the  seed, 
and  after  we  have  heard  the  word,  it  is  like  the 
harrow  which  covers  the  new-sown  seed  in  the 
earth,  that  the  fowls  of  the  air  may  not  pick  it  up  : 
meditation  is  that  which  makes  tlie  word  full  of  life 
and  energy  to  our  souls.  What  is  the  reason  that 
most  men  come  to  hear  the  word  as  the  beasts  did 
in  Noali's  ark  ?  They  came  in  unclean,  and  they 
went  out  unclean.  The  reason  is  because  they  do 
not  meditate  on  the  truths  they  hear  ;  it  is  but  just 
like  putting  money  into  a  bag  with  holes,  presently 
it  falls  out.  The  tiuths  they  hear  preached  are  put 
into  shallow  ntglected  memories,  and  they  do  not 
draw  them  forth  by  meditation,  therefore  hearing 
the  word  is  so  little  effectual :  it  is  said,  '*  Alary 
fondered  these  things  in  her  heart."  Hearing  the 
word  merely  is  like  indigestion,  and  when  we  medi- 
tate upon  the  word,  that's  digestion ;  and  this 
digestion  of  the  word  by  meditation  produces  warm 
affections,  zealous  resolutions,  and  holy  actions ; 
and  therefore  if  you  desire  to  profit  by  hearing  the 
word,  meditate.  — Satter. 

(3475.)  Meditation  is  the  life  of  all  the  means  of 
grace  and  that  which  makes  them  fruitful  to  our 
souls.  What  is  the  reason  there  is  so  much  preach- 
ing and  so  little  practice?  For  want  of  meditation. 
Constant  thoughts  are  operative.  If  a  hen  straggles 
out  from  her  nest,  she  brings  forth  nothing  ;  her 
eggs  chill.  So  when  we  do  not  set  a-brood  upon 
holy  thoughts,  if  we  content  ourselves  with  some 
few  transient  thoughts  and  glances  about  divine 
things,  and  do  not  dwell  upon  them,  the  truth  is 
suddenly  put  off,  and  dots  no  good. 

Constant  thoughts  are  operative,  and  musing 
makes  the  fire  burn.  Green  wnod  is  not  kindled 
by  a  flash  or  spark,  but  by  constant  blowing. 

— Alanton,  1 620-1667. 

(3476-)  Consideration  opens  the  ear  that  was 
stopped,  and  the  heart  that  was  shut  up  ;  it  sets  the 
powers  of  the  soul  at  work,  and  awakcnelh  it  from 
the  sleep  of  incogitancy  and  security.  The  thoughts 
are  the  first  actings  of  the  soul,  that  set  at  work  the 
rest.  Thinking  on  the  matters  that  must  make  us 
wise,  and  do  the  work  of  God  on  the  heart,  is  that 
which  lieth  on  us  to  do  in  order  to  our  conversion. 
By  consideration  a  sinner  makes  use  of  the  truth, 
which  before  lay  by,  and  therefore  could  do  nothing. 
By  consideration  he  taketh  in  the  medicine  to  his 
soul,  which  before  stood  by,  and  could  not  work. 
By  consideration  a  man  makes  use  of  his  reason, 
which  before  was  laid  asleep,  and  therefore  could 
not  do  its  work.  When  the  master  is  froir.  hoiue, 
the  scholars  will  be  at  play.  When  the  coachman 
is  asleep,  the  horser  may  miss  the  way,  and  possibly 
break  his  neck  and  'heir  own.     If  the  ploughman 


go  his  way,  the  oxen  will  stand  still,  or  make  but 
bad  and  out  of  handsome  work.  So  when  reason 
Is  laid  asleep,  and  out  of  the  way,  what  may  not 
appetite  do?  And  what  may  not  the  passions  do? 
And  what  may  not  temptations  do  with  the  soul? 
A  wise  man,  when  he  is  asleep,, hath  as  little  use  of 
his  wisdom  as  a  fool.  A  learned  man  when  he  is 
asleep,  can  hardly  dispute  with  an  unlearned  man 
that  is  awake.  A  strong  man  that  is  never  so  skil- 
ful at  his  weapons,  is  scarce  able  in  his  sleep  to 
deal  with  the  weakest  child  that  is  awake.  Why 
all  the  powers  of  your  soul  are,  are  as  it  were  asleep, 
till  consideration  awake  them,  and  set  them  oa 
work.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3477-)  The  keenest  sword,  the  greatest  cannon, 
will  do  no  execution  against  an  enemy  while  they 
lie  by  and  are  not  used.  There  is  a  mighty  power 
in  the  word  of  God  and  the  example  ot  Chnst  to 
pull  down  strongholds,  and  conquer  the  strongest 
lusts  and  corruptions.  But  they  will  not  do  this 
while  they  are  forgotten  and  neglected.  Will 
heaven  entice  the  man  that  thinks  not  of  it  ?  Will 
hell  deter  the  man  that  thinks  not  of  it  ?  Why  is  it 
that  all  the  reasoning  in  the  world  will  do  no  more 
good  on  a  man  that  is  deaf,  than  if  you  said  nothing? 
but  because  the  passage  to  his  thoughts  and  under- 
standing is  stopped  up.  And  if  you  have  eyes  and 
see  not,  and  ears  and  hear  not,  and  wilfully  cast  it 
out  of  your  thoughts,  what  good  can  anything  do 
to  you  that  is  spoken?  It  is  not  holding  food  in 
your  mouth  that  will  nourish  you,  if  you  will  not  let 
it  down  ;  not  taking  it  into  your  stomach,  if  you 
will  not  keep  it,  but  presently  cast  it  up  again  ;  bu( 
it  must  be  kept  till  it  be  digested  and  distributed. 
So  it  is  not  the  most  excellent  truths  in  the  world 
that  will  change  your  hearts,  if  you  let  them  not 
down  to  your  hearts,  and  keep  them  not  there  by 
meditation  till  they  are  digested  and  turned  into 
spiritual  life.  The  plaster  must  be  laid  upon  the 
sore  if  you  would  be  cured.  'Ihe  wound  and  sick- 
ness is  at  your  heart,  and  if  you  will  not  take  in  the 
word  to  your  heart,  where  the  sickness  is,  I  know 
not  how  you  should  expect  a  cure.  The  soul  will 
not  be  charmed  into  holiness  by  the  bare  hearing  or 
saying  over  a  few  good  words  ;  as  wizards  use  to 
cure  diseases,  or  seem  to  cure  them.  It  must  be 
truth  at  the  heart  that  must  change  the  heart.  And 
if  you  will  not  think  on  it,  and  think  on  it  again, 
how  can  you  expect  it  should  come  at  your  hearts? 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3478.)  It  is  consideration  of  the  saving  doctrine 
of  the  gospel  that  openeth  the  heart,  and  giveth  it 
entertainment.  Set  yourselves  therefore  on  pur- 
pose to  this  work,  and  open  the  doors  of  your  heart 
which  are  now  shut,  and  let  the  King  of  Glory 
come  in.  Who  will  believe  that  you  love  the  light, 
when  you  shut  the  windows  and  draw  the  curtains? 
If  you  will  set  yourselves  to  consider  of  the  truth, 
the  windows  of  your  soul  will  be  set  open,  and  then 
the  light  will  certainly  come  in.  Now,  you  read 
over  wliole  chapters,  and  hear  sermon  after  sermon, 
and  either  they  never  stir  you,  or  at  least  it  is  but  < 
little  for  a  fit,  like  a  man  that  hath  a  little  warmed 
him  at  the  fire  in  the  winter,  and  when  he  goes 
from  it,  is  colder  than  before  ;  but  if  you  would  but 
set  yourselves  to  consider  of  what  you  hear  and 
read,  one  line  of  a  chapter,  or  one  sentence  of  a 
sermon  would  lav  you  in  tears,  or  make  you  groan, 
or  at  least  do  more  than  now  is  done.     Satan  hatlj 


MEDITATION, 


(    58s     ) 


M EDIT  A  TION. 


garrisoned  the  heart  of  every  carnal  man,  and  con- 
sideration is  the  principal  means  to  cast  him  out. 
If,  by  considering  the  terrible  threatenings  of  the 
Word,  you  would  discharge  these  cannons  of  God 
against  them,  what  a  battery  would  it  make  in  tlie 
corruptions  of  your  souls!  Our  God  is  a  consum- 
ing fire,  and  the  fire  of  hell  is  threatened  in  His 
law  as  the  wages  of  sin  ;  by  serious  consideration 
you  may,  as  it  were,  fetch  fire  from  God  and  from 
His  Woid,  and  set  fire  to  the  very  gates  of  Satan's 
garrison,  and  fire  him  out  of  many  of  his  holds. 
— Baxter,  16 15- 169 1. 

(3479.)  Meditation  on  divine  things  makes  tliem 
really  profitable  to  us.  In  the  mere  a]iprehension 
of  truth,  whether  through  reading  or  hearing,  there 
is  little  or  no  profit.  The  profit  begins  when  that 
which  is  apprehended  is  so  pondered  as  to  become 
part  and  parcel  of  the  man's  inner  nature  ;  just  as 
food  becomes  of  advantage  to  us  when  it  is  not  only 
taken  into  the  body  but  assimilated  to  it,  and  mixed 
with  its  substance.  A  man  may  run  through  a 
picture-gallery  so  as  to  see  every  painting  it  con- 
tains, and  to  derive  from  the  sight  a  certain  amount 
of  pleasure  ;  but  he  s.\one  profits  by  such  an  exhibi- 
tion who  pauses  and  studies  each  worthy  work  of 
art,  and  gathers  ideas  from  it  which  enrich  his 
mind,  or  learns  lessons  from  it  which  refine  his 
taste,  or  which  may  guide  his  own  efforts  after 
excellence  in  art.  "  It  is  the  settling  of  milk," 
says  an  old  writer,  "that  makes  it  turn  to  cream, 
and  it  is  the  settling  of  truth  in  the  mind  that  makes 
it  turn  to  spirituaJ  nutriment." 

—  W.  L.  Alexander. 

8.  It  renders  good  Impressions  lasting. 

(34S0. )  Goithold  had  for  some  purpose  taken 
from  a  cupboard  a  vial  of  rose-water,  and,  after 
using  it,  inconsiderately  left  it  unstopped.  Observ- 
ing it  some  time  after,  he  found  that  all  the  strength 
and  sweetness  of  the  perfume  had  evaporated. 
Here,  thought  he  with  himself,  is  a  striking  emblem 
of  a  heart  fond  of  the  world  and  open  to  the 
impression  of  outward  objects.  What  good  does  it 
do  to  take  such  a  heart  to  the  house  of  God,  and 
there  fill  it  with  the  precious  essence  of  the  roses  of 
Paradise  which  are  the  truths  of  Scripture?  What 
good  to  kindle  in  it  a  glow"  of  devotion,  if  we  after- 
wards neglect  to  close  the  outlet — by  which  I  mean, 
to  keep  the  ivord  in  an  honest  and  good  heart 
(Luke  viii.  15).  How  vain  to  hear  much,  but  to 
retain  little,  and  practise  less  1  How  vain  to 
experience  within  us  sacred  and  holy  emotions, 
unless  we  are  afterwards  careful  to  close  the  heart 
by  diligent  reflection  and  prayer,  and  so  keep  it 
unspotted  from  the  world.  Neglect  this,  and  the 
strength  and  spirit  of  devotion  evaporates,  and 
leaves  only  a  lifeless  froth  behind.  Lord  Jesus, 
enable  me  to  keep  Thy  word  like  a  lively  cordial 
in  my  heart.  Quicken  it  there  by  Thy  Spirit  and 
grace.  Seal  it  up  in  my  soul,  that  it  may  retain 
for  ever  its  freshness  and  its  power  ! 

— Scriver,  1629- 1 693. 

4.  It  gives  fulness  and  clearness  to  our  views 
of  truth. 

{3481.)  Meditation  takes  the  veil  off  from  the 
face  of  truth.  Thr  glory  ard  beauty  ol  truth  doth 
not  consist  in  an  expressiou.  but  we  ouglit  to  pene- 
trate into  the  nature  of  it  by  reflection.  We  nave 
an  expression  of  Solomon,  speaking  of  knowledge 


and  understanding,  he  bids  us  to  search  for  her  at 
for  hidden  treasure;  observe  the  expression,— you 
know  jewels  do  not  lie  upon  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  but  they  are  hid  in  the  receptacles  of  the 
earth,  you  must  dig  for  them  before  you  can  enjoy 
them.  Truth  is  in  profundo,  and  our  understand- 
ings are  dark.  Now  you  must  search  for  the  truth 
of  God  as  for  hid  treasure.  He  that  rides  post 
through  a  country  is  never  able  to  make  a  full 
description  of  it ;  and  he  that  takes  but  a  transitory 
view  of  the  truths  of  the  gospel  will  never  come  to 
the  full  knowledge  of  them.  'Tis  meditation  makes 
them  appear  to  our  eye  in  their  beauty  and  lustre. 

(3482.)  The  man  who  is  a  stranger  to  meditation 
must  of  necessity  possess  very  confused  notions  of 
truth.  Whatever  be  the  number  of  ideas  which 
he  has  received,  they  lie  in  his  mind  like  lumber  in 
a  dark  room,  without  any  order  or  arrangement. 

— Hyatt,  181 1. 

6.  It  makes  God's  Word  delightful  to  us. 

(3483.)  Meditation  shows  the  beauty  of  truths. 
When  we  look  upon  them,  we  do  not  see  half  th^ 
is  in  them  ;  but  upon  a  more  deliberate  view,  it 
more  appears.  Tliere  is  a  secret  grace  in  some 
that  is  not  discerned  but  by  much  converse  and 
narrow  inspection.  — Alanion,  1620- 1669. 

(3484.)  The  Word  for  sweetness,  says  David,  is 
"like  honey  and  the  honeycomb."  It  is  so  full, 
that  at  first  reading  some  sweetness  will  now  and 
then  drop  from  it,  but  he  that  doth  not  press  it  by 
meditation  leaves  the  most  behind. 

—  Giirnall,  1 61 7- 1679. 

6.  It  delivers  us  from  vain  thoughts. 

(3485.)  Meditation  will  keep  your  hearts  and 
souls  from  sinful  thoughts.  When  the  vessel  is 
full  you  can  put  in  no  more.  If  the  vessel  be  full 
of  puddle  water,  you  cannot  put  in  wine  :  if  the 
vessel  be  full  of  wine,  yoii  cannot  put  in  pu'idle 
water.  If  the  heart  be  full  of  sinful  thoughts,  there 
is  no  room  for  holy  and  heavenly  thoughts  :  if  the 
heart  be  full  of  holy  and  heavenly  thoughts  by 
meditation,  there  is  no  room  for  evil  and  sinful 
thoughts.  And  what  is  the  reason  thai  men's 
hearts  are  so  full  of  sinful  and  evil  thoughts,  but 
because  their  hearts  are  no  more  full  of  God  ;  they 
think  no  more,  they  meditate  no  more  of  God. 

— Bridge,  1600- 1670. 

(3486.)  Meditation  will  be  a  means  to  cure  the 
most  vicious  part  of  our  lives ;  for  what  is  the 
wickedest  part  of  a  man's  life?  it  is  his  vain 
thoughts.  As  in  nature  there  is  no  vacuity  or 
emptiness,  but  a  vescel  is  either  filled  with  liquor 
or  the  air  ;  now  the  more  water  you  pour  in,  tlie 
more  air  goes  out.  So,  if  you  would  but  store  your 
souls  with  these  occasional  meditations,  it  w^ulJ 
thrust  out  vain  and  wild  thoughts.  — Salter. 

{3487.)  I-et  us  beseech  you  then  to  make  them 
(religion  and  eternity)  familiar  with  your  minds, 
and  mingle  them  with  the  ordinary  stream  of  your 
thoughts  :  retiring  often  from  the  world  and  con- 
versing with  God  and  your  own  souls.  In  these 
solemn  moments,  nature  and  the  shifting  scenes  of 
it  will  retire  from  your  view,  and  you  will  feel 
yourselves  left  alone  with  God  ;  you  will  walk  as 
in  His  sight  ;  you  will  stand,  as  it  were,  at  His 
tribunal.  Illusions  will  then  vanish  apace,  and 
everything  will  appear  in  its  true  proportion  and 


MEDITATION. 


(    586    ) 


MED  IT  A  TION. 


proper  colour.  You  will  estimate  human  liTe,  and 
the  work  of  it,  not  by  fleeting  and  momentary 
sensations,  but  by  the  light  of  reflection  and  steady 
faith.  You  will  see  little  in  the  j-iast  to  please,  or 
in  the  future  to  flatter  :  its  feverish  dreams  will 
subside  and  its  enchantment  be  dissolved. 

— Kobert  Hall,  1 764- 1 83 1 . 

7.  It  quickens  the  affections. 

(34S8.)  Meditation  sets  the  heart  a  work.  The 
greatest  matters  will  not  work  on  him  that  does  not 
think  of  them.  Tell  them  of  sin,  and  God,  and 
Christ,  and  heaven,  and  hell,  and  they  stir  them 
not,  because  they  do  not  take  these  truths  into  their 
deep  thoughts  ;  or  if  they  be  stirred  a  little  while, 
it  is  but  a  fit,  whi'e  the  truth  is  held  in  view  of 
conscience.  We  had  need  inculcate  things  if  we 
would  have  them  affect  us.  The  steel  must  beat 
again  and  again  on  the  flint  if  we  would  have  the 
sparks  fly  out  :  so  must  the  understanding  bear 
liard  on  the  will  to  get  out  any  affection  and 
respect  to  the  way  of  God. 

— Manton,  1 620-1667. 

(3489. )  As  meditation  is  a  great  help  to  memory, 
so  it  is  a  heart-warming  woik.  If  a  thing  be  cold, 
you  chafe  it ;  if  a  man's  body  be  cold,  you  chafe  it 
and  rub  it  ;  and  by  chafing  and  rubbing  of  a  cold 
part,  you  put  life  and  warmth  into  it ;  meditation 
chafes  the  soul,  and  rubs  the  soul  with  a  truth. 
And  what  is  the  reason  that  our  hearts  are  no 
warmer  by  what  we  read,  or  hear,  or  observe,  but 
because  we  mediate  no  more  on  it  ? 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(3490.)  As  a  hen,  by  sitting  on  her  eggs  some 
weeks,  warms  them  and  hatches  young  ones  ;  so 
may  I,  by  apjilying  savoury  subjects  home  to  my 
soul,  and  brooding  some  considerable  time  on  them, 
bring  forth  new  affections  and  new  actions.  Though 
my  affections  seem  as  dead  as  the  Shunammite's  son, 
,by  stretching  my  thoughts  thus  on  them,  I  shall 
warm  and  enliven  them.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(3491.)  As  meditation  opens  the  understanding, 
and  presents  truth  to  the  mind,  so  it  raiseth  the 
affections.  Knowledge  without  meditation  to  warm 
the  affections  is  like  the  glancing  of  a  beam  upon 
a  wave  —  it  fills  it  with  a  little  clarity,  but  it  doth 
not  heal  it ;  so,  when  there  are  many  motions  of 
truth  in  the  brain,  if  meditation  doth  not  apply 
them  lo  the  heart,  and  fix  them  upon  the  soul,  the 
affections  have  no  warmth  by  them.  Slight  visions 
make  shallow  impressions.  He  that  with  a  care- 
less eye  looks  upon  a  piece  of  embroidery,  does  not 
see  the  curiousness  of  the  work,  and  therefore  doth 
not  admire  it.  So  when  we  with  a  running  eye 
look  upon  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  no  wonder  our 
affections  are  not  raised  towards  them.  David, 
speaking  concerning  his  meditation,  says,  "  While 
1  was  musing,  the  fire  burned,  my  heart  was  hot 
within  me."    Tis  musing  makes  this  fire  to  burn. 

—Salter. 

8.  Promotes  spiritual  health. 

{3492.)  As  the  body  will  be  more  in  health,  when 
enjoying  the  benefits  of  a  pure  air,  even  so  will  the 
soul  be  more  endued  with  practical  wisdom,  when 
nourished  in  such  exercises  as  '.hese. 

—  Chrysostom,  347-407. 

9.  Strengthens  the  spiritual  vision. 

(3493.)  Seest  thou  not  even  the  eyes  of  the  body, 


that  when  they  abide  in  smoke,  they  are  alwayi 
weeping  ;  but  when  they  are  in  clear  air,  and  in  a 
meadow,  and  in  fountains  and  gardens,  they  become 
more  quicksighted  and  more  healthy?  Like  this  is 
the  soil's  eye  also,  for  should  it  feed  in  the  meadow 
of  spiritual  oracles,  it  will  be  clear  and  piercing, 
and  quick  of  sight,  but  should  it  depart  into  the 
smoke  of  the  things  of  this  life,  it  will  weep  with- 
out end,  and  wail  both  now  and  hereafter.  Foi 
indeed  the  things  of  this  life  are  like  smoke.  On 
this  account  also  one  has  saiil,  "  My  days  have 
faded  like  smoke."  He  indeed  was  referring  to 
their  shortness  of  duration,  and  to  their  unsubstantial 
nature,  but  I  would  say  that  we  should  take  what 
is  said,  not  in  this  sense  alone,  but  also  as  to  their 
turbid  character.  For  nothing  doth  so  hurt  and 
dim  the  eye  of  the  soul  as  the  crowd  of  worldly 
anxieties  and  the  swarm  of  desires.  For  these  are 
the  wood  that  feed  this  smoke. 

—  Chrysostom,  347-407. 

10.  Enriches  the  understanding. 

(3494.)  Without  meditation  we  do  but  talk  one 
after  another  like  parrots,  and  take  up  things  by 
mere  hearsay,  and  repeat  them  by  rote,  without 
affection  and  life,  or  discerning  the  worth  and 
excellency  of  what  we  speak.  It  is  meditation  that 
makes  truths  always  ready  and  present  with  us. 

— Manton,  1620-1667. 

11.  Nourishes  the  soul. 

(3495.)  Meditation  is  the  means  of  digesting  the 
important  truths  we  hear,  and  by  which  the  soul  is 
nourished  and  strengthened  in  the  divine  life. 
Bodily  health  is  not  preserved  by  the  mere  act  of 
eating,  but  by  a  proper  digestion  of  food  ;  no  more 
is  the  spiritual  health  of  the  soul  maintained  by  the 
mere  act  of  heaving,  but  by  a  proper  digestion  of 
truth,  and  in  order  to  this,  holy  contemplation  is 
indispensably  necessary.  — Hyatt,  181 1. 

(3496.)  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the 
mouth  speaketh  ;  and  our  best  abundance  of  the 
heart  must  be  slowly  and  in  quietness  prepared. 
The  cattle  when  they  rest,  are  yet  working  to  pre- 
pare from  the  grass  that  sweetest  and  most  whole- 
some of  beverages — milk.  So  must  we  prepare  the 
abundance  of  the  heart.  If  the  milk  of  our  word  is 
to  flow  from  us  nourishingly,  we  must  turn  the 
common  things  of  daily  lile — the  grass — by  slow 
and  quiet  processes,  into  sweet  wisdom.  In  retired, 
metlitative  hours,  the  digesting  and  secreting  powers 
ol  the  spirit  act ;  and  thus  ourselves  are  nourished, 
and  we  store  nourishment  for  others. 

—Lynch,  1828-1871. 

12.  Gives  depth  to  the  character. 

(3497.)  Meditation  gives  depth,  seriousness,  and 
earnestness  to  our  religious  prolession  and  character. 
A  profession  of  Christianity  is  easily  made,  and  the 
name  of  Christian  is  easily  assumed.  But  religion, 
whatever  else  it  is,  is  a  mode  of  thought,  and  hence 
it  is  only  as  deep  and  earnest  thoughtlulness  is 
bestowed  upon  it,  that  it  can  be  developed  in  its 
higher  and  nobler  forms.  For  want  of  this,  Chris- 
tianity often  appears  in  its  professors  as  it  is  not 
cJL-siiahle  that  it  should  appear.  Some  there  are 
who  never  go  beyond  the  elements  and  alphabet  of 
spiritual  truth  ;  theirs  is  a  superficial  Cliristianity, 
a  gold-leaf  religiousness,  genuine  so  far  as  it  goes, 
but  marvellously  attenuated,  and  not  good  for 
much  nor  able  to  endure  much.         — Alexander. 


M  EDIT  A  TION. 


(    587     ) 


ME  DITA  TION. 


18.  Promotes  spiritual  fruitfulnesa. 

(3498.)  Tliis  duty  is  very  advantageous.  You 
know  a  garden  that  is  watered  by  sudden  showers 
is  more  uncertain  in  its  fruit  than  when  'tis  refreshed 
by  a  constant  stream  ;  so  when  our  thoughts  are 
sometimes  upon  good  things,  and  then  run  off; 
when  they  do  but  take  a  glance,  as  it  were,  upon 
holy  objects,  and  then  run  away,  there  is  not  such 
fruit  brought  into  the  soul  as  when  our  minds  by 
meditation  do  dwell  upon  them.  The  rays  of  the 
sun  may  warm  us,  but  they  do  not  inflame  unless 
they  are  contracted  in  a  burning-glass  ;  so  some 
slight  thoughts  of  heavenly  things  may  warm  us  a 
little,  but  will  never  inflame  the  soul  till  they  be 
fixed  by  close  meditation.  Therefore  David  (who 
was  an  excellent  man  at  this  duty)  tells  us,  his 
"  heart  was  fixed,"  and  saith  the  same  concerning 
the  frame  of  a  good  man.  — i>aUer. 

14,  It  brings  comfort  to  the  souL 

(3499.)  God  conveys  comfort  to  us  in  a  rational 
way  ;  and  although  He  is  able  to  rain  manna  in 
the  wilderness,  and  to  cast  in  comfort  to  our  souls, 
without  any  labour  of  ours,  yet  usually  lie  dis- 
penseth  comforts  according  to  the  staiuling  rule. 
He  that  doth  not  work,  shall  not  eat — he  that  doth 
not  labour  in  the  duties  of  religion,  shall  not  taste 
the  sweetness  of  religion.  Now  meditation  is  the 
serious  and  active  performance  of  the  soul  to  which 
God  hath  promised  comfort.  The  grapes,  while 
they  hang  upon  the  vine,  do  not  produce  that  wine 
which  cheers  the  heart  of  man  ;  but  when  they  are 
squeezed  in  the  wine-press,  then  they  yield  forth 
their  liquor,  which  is  of  such  a  cheering  nature. 
So  the  promises  which  are  in  the  Word  barely,  do 
not  Send  forth  that  sovereign  juice  which  cheers  our 
hearts ;  but  when  we  ponder  them  in  our  souls, 
and  press  them  by  meditation,  then  tlie  promises 
convey  the  water  of  life  to  us.  "  When  I  remember 
Tiiee  upon  my  bed,  and  meditate  on  Thee  in  the 
night-watches,  my  soul  shall  be  satisfied  as  with 
marrow  and  fatness  : "  observe  the  connection. 
Meditation  turns  the  promises  into  marrow,  it 
conveys  the  strength  of  them  to  our  souls.  One 
morsel  of  meat  masticated  and  digested  dispenses 
more  nourishment  than  a  greater  quantity  that  is 
swallowed  down  whole  ;  so  one  promise  that  is 
ruminated  upon,  and  digested  by  meditation,  con- 
veys more  comfort  than  a  bundle  of  promises  in  the 
head  that  are  no'  meditated  upon,  which  we  do  not 
consider.  The  comfort  which  meditation  brings  is 
the  most  spiiitua!  refined  joy  that  we  are  capable 
of.  It  is  sjiiritual  meditation  which  rejoices  the 
angelical  part  of  our  souls  within  us.  Meditation 
is  that  which  makes  a  man  to  be  a  citizen  of  the 
New  Jerusalem  :  he  can  take  a  walk  in  the  paradise 
of  God  every  day,  and  pluck  fruits  off  the  tree  of 
life,  and  draw  water  from  the  wells  of  salvation. 
He  that  periorms  conscientiously  the  duty  of  medi- 
tation doth  maintain  such  a  corresiwndence  with 
God  as  anj^els  do  ;  such  a  one  doth  enter  into 
heaven  by  degrees  and  steps.  — Salter. 

(3500.)  The  end  of  study  is  information,  and  the 
end  ol  meditation  is  practice,  or  a  work  upon  the 
affections.  Study  is  like  a  winter  sun,  that  shines, 
but  warms  not  :  but  meditation  is  like  a  blowing 
up  the  fire,  where  we  do  not  mind  the  blaze, 
but  the  heat.  The  end  of  study  is  to  hoard  up 
truth  ;  but  of  meditation  to  lay  it  forth  in  conference 
or  holy  conversation.    In  study  we  are  like  viD'aers, 


that  take  in  wine  to  store  it  for  sale  ;  in  meditation 
like  those  that  buy  wine  for  their  own  use  and 
comfort.  A  vintner's  cellar  may  be  better  stored 
than  a  nobleman's  ;  the  student  may  have  more  of 
notion  and  knowledge,  but  the  practical  Christian 
has  more  of  taste  and  refreshment. 

— Manton,  1620- 1667. 

(3501.)  The  promises  of  God  are  flowers,  grow- 
ing in  the  paradise  of  Scripture  ;  meditation,  like 
the  bee,  sucks  out  the  sweetness  of  them.  The 
promises  are  of  no  use  or  comfort  to  us  till  they 
are  meditated  upon.  For  as  the  roses  hanging  in 
the  garden  may  give  a  fragrant  perfume,  yet  their 
sweet  water  is  distilled  only  by  the  fire  ;  so  the 
promises  are  sweet  in  reading  over,  but  the  water 
of  these  roses — the  S]5irit  and  quintessence  of  the 
promises — is  distilled  into  the  soul  only  by  medita- 
tion. The  incense,  when  it  is  pounded  and  beaten, 
smells  sweetest.  Meditating  on  a  promise,  like  the 
beating  of  the  incense,  makes  it  most  odoriferous 
and  pleasant.  The  promises  may  be  compared  to 
a  gohlen  mine,  which  then  only  enricheth  when  the 
gold  is  tlug  out.  By  holy  meditation  we  dig  out 
that  spiritual  gold  which  lies  hid  in  the  mine  of  the 
promise,  and  so  we  come  to  be  enriched. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

16.  It  keeps  hope  active. 

(3502.)  The  special  object  of  hope  is  eternal 
glory.  The  peculiar  use  of  it  is  to  support,  comfort, 
E.nd  refresh  the  soul,  in  all  trials,  under  all  weari- 
ness and  despondencies,  with  a  firm  expectation  of 
a  speedy  entrance  into  that  glory,  with  an  earnest 
desire  after  it.  Wherefore,  unless  we  acquaint 
ourselves,  by  continual  meditation,  with  the  reality 
and  natuie  of  this  glory,  it  is  impossible  it  should 
be  the  object  of  a  vigorous  active  hope,  such  as 
whereby  the  apostle  says,  "  we  are  saved."  With- 
out this  we  can  neither  have  that  evidence  of  eternal 
things,  nor  that  valuation  of  them,  nor  that  pre- 
paredness in  our  minds  for  them,  as  should  keep  us 
in  the  exercise  of  gracious  hope  about  them. 

Suppose  sundry  persons  engaged  in  a  voyage  to 
a  most  remote  country,  wherein  all  of  them  have  an 
apprehension  there  is  a  place  of  rest  and  an  in- 
heritance provided  for  them.  Under  this  appre- 
hension they  all  put  themselves  upon  their  voyage, 
to  possess  what  is  so  prepared.  Howbeit  some  of 
them  have  only  a  general  notion  of  these  things  ;  they 
know  nothing  distinctly  concerning  them,  and  are  so 
busied  about  other  aflfairs  that  they  have  no  leisure 
to  inquire  into  them,  or  do  suppose  that  they  can- 
not come  unto  any  satisfactory  knowledge  of  them 
in  particular,  and  so  are  content  to  go  on  with 
general  hopes  and  expectations.  Others  there  are 
who,  by  all  possible  means,  acquaint  themselves 
particularly  with  the  nature  of  the  climate  whither 
they  are  going,  with  the  excellency  of  the  inheritance 
and  provision  that  is  m.ade  for  them.  Their  voyage 
proves  long  and  wearisome,  their  difficulties  many 
and  their  clangers  great,  and  they  having  nothing  to 
relieve  and  encourage  themselves  wiih  but  the  hope 
and  expectation  of  the  country  whither  they  are 
going.  Those  of  the  first  sort  will  be  very  apt  to 
despond  and  faint,  their  general  ho]ies  will  not  be 
able  to  relieve  them  ;  but  those  who  have  a  distinct 
notion  and  aijjjrehension  of  the  slate  of  things 
wiiither  they  are  going,  and  of  their  incomparable 
excellency,  have  always  in  a  readiness  wherewith 
to  cheer  their  minds  and  support  themselves. 


MED  IT  A  TION. 


(    588     ) 


MEDITATION. 


In  that  journey  or  pilgrimage  wherein  we  are 
engaged  towards  a  heavenly  country,  we  aie  sure  to 
meet  with  all  kinds  of  dangers,  difficulties,  and 
perils.  It  is  not  a  general  notion  of  blessedness 
that  will  excite  and  work  in  us  a  spiritual,  refresh- 
ing hope.  But  when  we  think  and  meditate  on 
future  glory  as  we  ought,  that  grace  which  is 
neglected  for  the  most  part  as  to  its  benefit,  and 
dead  as  to  its  exercise,  will  of  all  others  be  most 
vigorous  and  active,  putting  itself  forth  on  all  occa- 
sions. This,  therefore,  is  an  inestimable  benefit  of 
the  duty  exhorted  unto,  and  which  they  find  the 
advantage  of  who  are  really  spiritually-minded. 
— Owen,  1616-1683. 

16.  It  brings  God  near. 

(3503.)  Meditation  is  the  soul's  perspective  glass  : 
whereby,  in  her  long  remove,  she  discerns  God  as 
if  He  were  nearer  hand.  — Ffliihani,  1668. 

17.  Its  advantages  must  be  experienced  to  be 
known. 

(3504.)  The  advantage  of  meditation  is  rather  to 
be  felt  than  read.  He  that  can  paini  spikenard,  or 
musk,  or  roses,  in  their  proper  colour,  cannot  with 
all  his  art  draw  their  pleasant  savour ;  that  is 
beyond  the  skill  of  his  pencil. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

IV.    IS  A  DUTY  FOR  EVERY  DAY. 

{3505.)  As  it  is  every  man's  work,  so  it  is  every 
day's  work.  The  Sabbath  day  is  our  market  day  ; 
we  do  not  go  to  the  market  to  buy  meat  into  the 
house  only  for  the  market  day,  but  for  all  the  time 
until  the  market  day  comes  about  again.  Indeed, 
Solomon  saith  of  the  sluggard,  that  he  is  §0  sluggish 
and  slothful  that  "he  doth  not  roast  what  he  hath 
taken  in  huntinL^."  The  Sabbath  day  is  the  hunting 
day  for  souls  wherein  the  venison  is  taken  :  on  the 
week  day  we  are  to  roast  it,  and  to  live  upon  it,  by 
meditation  and  otherwise.  And  what  is  the  reason 
that  many  do  not  live  upon  their  venison  that  they 
have  taken  on  the  Lord's  day,  but  because  they  do 
not  roast  it  by  meditation  on  the  week  day,  and  so 
are  in  the  number  of  Solomon's  sluggards.  David 
saith  that  his  meditation  was  at  work  all  the  day 
long:  "It  is  my  meditation  all  the  day;"  not  a 
piece  of  it  ;  it  is  every  day's  work,  it  is  all  the  day's 
work,  ^'ea,  in  Psalm  i.  he  takes  in  the  night  too  : 
"  He  deliglUeth  in  the  law  of  the  Lord,  and  therein 
doth  he  meditate  day  and  night." 

— Bridge,  1 600- 1 670. 

(3506.)  Accustom  yourself  to  a  serious  medita- 
tion every  morning.  Fresh  airing  our  souls  in 
heaven  will  engender  in  us  a  purer  spirit  and  nobler 
thoughts.  A  morning  seasoning  will  secure  us  for 
all  the  day.  Though  other  necessary  thoughts 
about  our  calling  will  and  must  come  in,  yet  when 
we  have  despatched  them,  let  us  attend  to  our  morn- 
ing theme  as  our  chief  companion.  As  a  man 
that  is  going  with  another  about  some  considerable 
business,  suppose  to  Westminster,  though  he  meets 
with  several  friends  on  the  way,  and  salutes  some, 
and  with  others  with  whom  he  has  some  affairs  he 
spends  some  little  lime,  yet  he  quickly  returns  to 
his  companion,  and  both  together  go  to  their  in- 
ended  stage.  Do  thus  in  the  present  case.  Our 
minds  are  active,  and  will  be  doing  something, 
though  to  little  purpose ;  ami  if  they  be  not  fixed 
upon  some  noble  object,  they  will  like  madmen  and 
•ools  be  aii^'hlily  pleased   in  playing  wuh   su"«v/s. 


The  thoughts  of  God  were  the  first  visitors  David 
had  in  the  morning  (Ps.  cxxxix.  17,  18).  God  and 
his  heart  met  together  as  soon  as  he  was  awake, 
and  kept  company  all  the  day  after. 

— Charnock,  1620-1680. 

V.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  CONDUCTED. 

1.  We  must  be  alone  wltli  God. 

(3507.)  To  converse  with  self  we  must  be  alone, 
our  sole  companion  our  own  thoughts,  our  sole 
witness  God  and  nature.  When  Isaac  would 
meditate  he  walked  at  eventide  into  the  fields 
where,  in  the  free  air  and  the  calm  face  of  nature 
and  the  music  of  creation,  he  could  find  what 
tends  to  elevate  the  mind  to  God.  When  the 
Psalmist  exhorts  men  to  commune  with  their  own 
hearts,  his  counsel  to  them  is  to  do  it  by  night  upon 
their  bed,  when  all  is  stil!  around  them,  and  when 
no  flaring  lights  and  no  distracting  shows  will  be 
present  to  interrupt  the  current  of  their  thoughts. 
The  din  and  the  daylight  of  society  are  hostile  to 
quiet,  concentrated,  self-searching  thought.  The 
man  that  would  truly  meditate  must  bear  to  be 
alone.  The  world  will  ever  be  ready  to  obtrude 
itself  upon  us  if  we  do  not  shut  it  out,  and  worldly 
thoughts  are  like  motes  in  the  eye,  which  vex  the 
soul  and  will  not  let  it  look  calmly  upwaids.  The 
wing  that  would  soar  into  the  serene  air  of  the 
upper  world  must  shake  from  it  all  clogs  and 
fetters,  and  break  away  from  whatever  would  tie  it 
down  to  earth.  — Alexander. 

2.  We  must  leave  behind  all  vain  and  worldly 

thoughts. 

(350S.)  I  wish  that  whenever  T  sequester  mysell 
from  worldly  business  I  might  leave  all  ray  sinful 
and  worldly  thoughts  behind  me.  There  can  no 
work  of  concernment  be  done  in  secret  unless  these 
disturbers  be  absent.  Should  I  entertain  such 
guests,  I  forbid  Christ  my  company. 

Vicious  thoughts  are  His  swurn  enemies,  and  He 
will  not  dwell  in  the  same  house,  in  the  same  heart 
with  them  ;  if  I  desire  Him  to  sit  upon  the  throne 
of  my  heart,  I  must  give  Him  leave  to  cast  down 
every  imagination,  and  to  bring  every  thought  to 
the  obedience  of  Himself.  Places  that  are  full  of 
vermin  are  not  fit  for  a  prince's  presence. 

Vain  and  unnecessary  thoughts  about  lawful 
objects  are  strangers,  though  not  sworn  enemies, 
and  will  give  my  best  Friend  distaste.  Though  a 
noble  person  should  come  to  pay  me  a  visit,  il  he 
should  hear  me  debasing  myself  to  converse  need- 
lessly with  inconsiderable  impertinent  fellows,  I 
may  look  that  he  should  pass  by  without  calling  in. 
Christ  loves  not  to  be  entertained  in  a  room  full  of 
dust-heaps  and  cobwebs.  If  vain  thoughts  lodge 
within,  the  blessed  Jesus  will  stand  without.  Gold 
and  clay  will  not  mingle.  If  these  mists  arise  and 
these  clouds  interpose,  they  will  hinder  my  sight  of 
the  true  sun.  — Szuinnock,  1673. 

3.  We  must  select  single  truths  for  special  con- 
sideration. 

(3509.)  As  sweet  spices  yield  small  savour  until 
they  are  beaten  to  powder,  so  the  wonderful  works 
of  God  are  either  not  at  all  or  very  slightly  smelled 
in  the  nostrils  of  man,  who  is  of  a  dull  sense,  unless 
they  be  rubbed  and  chafed  in  the  mind,  tiirough  a 
fervent  affection,  and  singled  out  with  a  particular 
view  ;  like  them  which  tell  money,  who  look  nol 
confusedly  at    me    whole    heap,   but    at    the   value 


MED  IT  A  TION. 


(    589    ) 


MED  IT  A  TION. 


of  every  parcel.  So  then  a  true  Christian  must 
endeavour  himself  to  deliver,  not  in  gross,  but  by 
retail,  the  millions  of  God's  mercy  to  his  soul  ;  in 
secret  thought  chewing  the  cud  of  every  circum- 
stance with  continual  coniemplation. 

t  — E.  CulverruelL 

(3510.)  There  is  abundant  matter  for  our  medita- 
tion ;  as  the  nature  and  attributes  of  God,  the 
states  and  offices  of  Christ,  the  threefold  state  of 
man,  the  four  last  things,  the  vanity  of  the  creature, 
the  sinfulness  of  sin,  the  love  and  fulness  of  the 
blessed  Saviour,  the  Divine  Word  and  works  ;  out 
of  these  we  may  choose  sometimes  one  thing,  some- 
times another,  to  be  the  particular  object  of  our 
thoughts.  To  undertake  more  than  one  at  a  time 
will  deprive  us  of  the  benefit  of  all.  Too  much 
food  will  rather  destroy  than  increase  the  natural 
heat  :  a  little  wood  may  help  that  (ire  to  burn, 
which  a  great  quantity  would  smother.  Whilst  the 
dog  runs  after  two  hares,  now  after  one,  and  pre- 
sently after  the  other,  he  loses  both.  Many  subjects, 
as  a  press  or  ciovvd  of  peojile,  do  but  hinder  one 
another.  Those  streams  are  strongest  wliich  are 
most  united.  Greediness  of  appetite,  and  receiving 
too  much  food,  weakens  digestion. 

When  thou  hast  fixed  upon  a  subject,  rreditate 
(if  it  may  be)  on  its  causes,  properties,  effects,  titles, 
comparisons,  testimonies,  contraries — all  will  help 
to  illustrate  the  subject,  and  to  quicken  and  ad- 
vantage thee ;  they  do  all  as  so  many  several 
windows  let  in  those  beams  which  enlighten  the 
mind  and  warm  the  affections  :  but  they  must  be 
considered  in  their  places  and  methodically.  The 
parts  of  a  watch  jumbled  together  serve  for  no  use, 
but  each  in  their  order  make  a  rare  and  useful 
piece.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

4.  We  must  select  practical  topics  for  considera- 
tion. 

(3511.)  There  are  some  points  in  religion  which 
are  chiefly  speculative  ;  there  are  others  which  are 
more  practical.  Now  as  the  tops  of  mountains  are 
barren,  but  the  humble  valleys  fruitful,  so  specu- 
lative points  arc  barren,  and  the  meditation  of  them 
is  inefiective.  There  are  some  slight  dishes  which 
gratify  the  palate,  but  have  no  substance  in  them 
to  feed  and  strengthen  the  body  ;  so  there  are  some 
truths  which  though  they  are  delicious,  yet  they  do 
not  produce  holiness ;  and  although  they  may 
please  the  taste,  yet  they  yield  no  solid  nourishment 
to  the  soul.  We  lose  much  of  the  benefit  of  medi- 
tation, when  we  pitch  our  thoughts  upon  those 
oi)jects  which  are  not  most  fruitful.  Hence,  meaner 
Christians  often  thrive  more  in  holiness  than  those 
of  richer  gifts;  they  meditate  upon  those  objects 
most  fruitfully  in  reference  to  their  lives,  and  so 
they  make  a  sensible  progress  in  the  ways  of  reli- 
gion, whereas  others  are  barren.  —  Salter. 

5.  We  must  not  be  in  too  great  liaste  to  bring 
our  meditation  to  a  close. 

(3512.)  In  meditation,  those  who  begin  heavenly 
thou<;hts  and  prosecute  them  not  are  like  those 
who  kindie  a  fire  under  green  wood,  and  leave  it 
as  soon  as  it  begins  to  flame. 

—Hall,  P5 74-1 656. 

(35'3)  Let  not  thy  meditations  be  transient. 
The  milk  must  be  set  some  time  before  it  will 
turn  into  cream.  Many  blows  drive  a  nail  to  the 
head,  many  thoughts  settle  &  truth  on  the   heart. 


Oh,  that  I  might  not  only  at  some  times  exchange  a 
few  words  with  the  subject  of  my  meditation  occa- 
sionally, as  I  do  with  a  friend  passing  by  my  door  ; 
but  also  at  set  times  invite  it,  as  Lot  did  the  angels, 
to  stay  with  me  all  night,  being  confident  it  will 
pay  me  bountifully  (as  they  him)  for  my  charges 
in  its  entertainment.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(3514.)  Occasional  meditations  do  some  good, 
but  set  meditations  much  more,  as  making  a  greater 
impression  upon  the  soul,  and  abiding  longer  with 
it.  They  differ  as  a  taste  and  a  full  meal,  as  a  sip 
and  a  good  draught.  Occasional  meditations  are 
like  loving  strangers,  thai  afford  us  a  visit,  but  are 
quickly  gone  :  deliberate  meditations  are  as  inhabi- 
tants that  dwell  with  us,  and  are  longer  helpful  to 
us.  The  former,  as  the  morning  dew,  do  somewhat 
moisten  and  refresh  the  earth,  but  quickly  pass 
away  ;  the  latter,  as  a  good  shower,  soak  deep  and 
continue  long.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

6.  Neither  must  it  be  unduly  prolonged. 

(3515-)  Do  not  overdo  in  point  of  violence  or 
length  ;  but  carry  on  the  work  sincerely  according 
to  the  abilities  of  your  minds  and  bodies  ;  lest  going 
beyond  your  strength,  you  craze  your  brains,  and 
discompose  your  minds,  and  disable  yourselves,  to 
do  anything  at  all.  'J'hough  we  cannot  estimntively 
love  God  too  much,  yet  it  is  possible  to  think  of 
Him  with  too  much  passion,  or  too  long  at  once, 
because  it  may  be  more  than  the  spirits  and  brain 
can  l)ear  ;  and  if  once  they  be  o^erstrained,  if  they 
break  not,  like  a  lute-string  screwed  too  high,  they 
will  be  like  a  leg  out  of  joint,  that  can  pain  you, 
but  not  bear  you.  While  the  soul  rideth  on  so 
lame  or  dull  a  horse,  as  the  body  is,  it  must  not  go 
the  pace  which  it  desireth,  but  which  the  body  can 
bear  ;  or  else  it  may  be  quickly  dismounted,  or  like 
one  that  rideth  on  a  tired  horse.  It  is  not  the  horse 
that  goeth  at  first  with  chafing  heat  and  violence 
which  will  travel  best  ;  but  you  must  put  on  in  the 
pace  that  you  are  al)Ie  to  hold  out.  You  little 
know  how  lamentable  and  distressed  a  case  you 
will  be  in,  or  how  great  an  advantage  the  tempter 
hath,  if  once  he  do  but  tire  you  by  overdoing  ! 

—Baxter,  1615-1691. 

VI.    ITS  DIFFICULTIES. 
1,  Are  merely  initial. 
(3516.)  As  in  the  heating  of  an  oven  the  fuel  is 

set  on  fire,  yet  not  without  some  pains  to  blow  it 
up  into  a  flame,  but  afterwards,  when  the  oven 
begins  to  be  somewhat  hot,  the  fuel  will  caich  and 
kindle  of  itself,  and  no  sooner  is  it  thrown  in  but  it 
is  all  in  a  blaze  on  a  sudden  :  such  is  the  difficulty 
of  meditation  at  the  first.  When  there  is  but,  as  it 
were,  a  little  spark  of  love  in  the  heart,  it  will  cost 
a  man  some  jiains  to  blow  it  up  into  a  flame  ;  but 
afterwards,  when  the  heart  is  once  heated  with 
those  flames  of  love,  then  it  will  inflame  all  the 
thoughts  and  set  the  aflections  on  fire  :  insomuch, 
that  the  duty  of  meditation  will  not  be  only  easy 
and  delightful,  but  so  necessary,  that  a  man  cannot 
tell  how  to  avoid  it.  — White,  1576-1648. 

(3517.)  There  are  two  things  that  make  medita- 
tion hard.  The  one  is,  because  men  are  not  used 
thereunto,  men  are  not  exercised  therein :  and 
ano'hf^r  is,  because  they  do  not  love  God  enough. 
Everything  is  hard  at  the  first  :  writing  is  hard  at 
the  hist,  painting  hard  at  the  first,  and  the  getting 


MED  IT  A  TION. 


(    590    ) 


MEDITA  TION. 


lan^ages  hard  at  the  first.  A  trade  is  hard  at  the 
first,  so  certainly  the  work  of  nietlitation  will  be 
hard  at  the  first.  There  is  nothin<,'  not  hard  to 
those  that  are  unwilling.  There  is  nothing  hard  to 
those  that  love,  love  makes  all  things  easy.  Is  it  a 
hard  thing  for  a  lover  to  think  or  mediiate  on  the 
person  loved?  Is  it  a  hard  thing  for  a  ciiild  at  a 
diotance  from  his  father  to  think  or  meditate  on  his 
father,  and  liis  father's  love  and  kindness, — is  this 
hard  ?  Indeed  to  a  rebellious  child  it  is  hard,  but 
for  a  loving  and  an  obedient  chikl  it  is  not  hard. 
And  what  is  the  reason  that  the  work  of  meditaiion 
is  80  hard  to  many  of  us,  but  because  in  truth  we 
are  nut  used  thereunto,  or  because  we  are  re- 
bellious children,  and  do  not  love  the  Lord  as  we 
ought  to  do?  — Bridge,  1600-16"] O. 

2.  Yield  to  persistent  effort, 

(3518.)  Continue  to  meditate  till  you  find  some 
sensible  benefit  conveyed  to  your  soul.  The  nature 
of  man  has  a  great  disrelish  of  this  duty,  and  we 
are  apt  to  be  soon  weary  of  it ;  our  thoughts  are 
like  a  bird  in  the  cage,  which  flutters  the  more  be- 
cause of  his  confinement  ;  so  our  thoughts  are 
apt  to  run  strayingly  out  v;hen  we  confine  them  to 
such  a  duty  as  this  is  ;  but  he  that  begins  and  doth 
not  proceed  loses  the  benefit  of  the  duty.  As  it  is 
in  the  kindling  of  fire  in  wet  wood,  you  know  con- 
tinuance is  that  which  must  cause  the  flame.  When 
you  blow  at  first,  there  is  a  little  smoke  arises  ;  by 
holding  on,  you  raise  sparks ;  but  he  that  goes 
forward  at  last  brings  it  to  a  flame.  So  'tis  in 
the  duty  of  meditation  ;  when  you  begin  to  meditate 
upon  spiritual  things,  at  first  you  raise  a  smoke,  a 
few  sighs  towards  God  ;  by  continuance  you  raise 
some  sparks  of  heavenly  desires  ;  but  at  last  there's 
a  flame  of  holy  affections  that  goes  up  towards  God. 
Now  you  should  not  ordinarily  leave  the  work  till 
the  flame  doth  so  ascend.  When  a  man  goes  forth 
in  a  calm  and  serene  evening,  and  views  the  face  of 
the  heavens,  he  shall  see  a  star  or  two  twinkle  and 
peep  forth  ;  but  if  he  continues,  both  their  number 
and  lustre  is  increased,  and  at  last  he  sees  the  whole 
heaven  is  bespangled  with  stars  in  every  part ;  so 
when  thou  dost  meditate  upon  the  promises  of  the 
gospel,  at  first  it  may  be  one  star  begins  to  appear, 
a  little  light  conveys  itself  to  thy  heart  ;  but  go  for- 
ward, and  then  thou  wilt  find,  when  thy  thoughts 
are  amplified  and  ripened,  there  will  be  a  clear 
light  ;  more  conveyed  to  thy  soul  ;  and  in  con- 
tinuance the  covenant  of  grace  will  appear  be- 
spangled with  promises  as  heaven  with  stars,  and 
all  to  give  thee  satisfaction.  — Sailer. 

(3519)  This  duty  of  set  meditaiion  is  as  hard  as 
rare,  and  as  uneasy  as  extraordinary,  but  experience 
teaches  that  the  profit  makes  abundant  recompense 
for  our  pains  in  the  performance  of  it.  Besides,  as 
millstones  grind  hard  at  first,  but  being  used  to  it, 
they  grind  easily,  and  make  good  flour ;  so  the 
Christian  wholly  disused  to  this  dvty  at  first  may 
find  it  difEcult,  but  afterwards  both  facile  and 
fruitful.  — Swinnock,  1673, 

3.  Are  not  to  deter  us  ftrom  It. 

(3520.)  Men  who  are  sick  and  weakly  in  their 
bodies  do  not  altogether  abstain  from  food  and 
physic,  but  rather  use  them,  that  they  may  recover 
their  strength  again  ;  and  though  their  appetite  is 
small,  yet  they  force  themselves,  that,  by  eating  a 
little  and  a  little,  they  may  get  a  stomach.     Shall 


a  man  who  is  dim-sighted  shut  the  windows  be- 
cause the  house  is  dark  I  Shall  he  not  rather  open 
them  to  let  in  the  light  that  he  may  the  better  see 
to  go  about  his  business?  And  the  colder  a  man 
feels  himself,  the  more  needful  he  thinks  it  to  come 
to  the  fire  and  warm  himself,  or  use  some  exercise, 
that  so  he  may  recover  his  natural  heat.  Thus,  in 
like  manner,  the  sight  of  our  own  natural  wants 
and  weaknesses  is  not  a  sufficient  plea  to  bar  us 
from  the  exercise  of  divine  meditation,  but  rather 
incite  us  thereunto,  it  being  an-  excellent  means  to 
clear  up  our  sight,  to  enlighten  our  minds  with 
more  knowledge,  to  get  spiritual  iieallh  and  strength, 
antl  to  warm  our  cold  and  frozen  hearts,  that  so,  by 
God's  assistance,  we  may  perform  service  unto  llim 
with  more  heat  of  godly  zeal  and  fervour  of  devo- 
tion. — Downame,  1642. 

VII.    ITS  PROPER  RESULTS. 

1.  Prayer. 

(3521.)  In  vain  do  we  charge  the  gun,  if  we 
intend  not  to  let  it  oflT.  Meditation  filieth  the 
heart  with  heavenly  matter,  but  prayer  gives  the 
discharge,  and  pours  it  forth  upon  God,  whereby 
He  is  overcome  to  give  the  Christian  his  desired 
relief  and  succour.  The  promise  is  the  bill  or 
bond,  wherein  God  makes  Himself  a  debtor  to  the 
creature.  Now,  though  it  is  some  comfort  to  a 
poor  man  that  hath  no  money  at  present  to  buy 
bread  with,  when  he  reads  his  bills  and  bonds,  to 
see  that  he  hath  a  great  sum  owing  him  ;  yet  this 
will  not  supply  his  present  wants,  and  buy  him 
bread.  No,  it  is  the  putting  his  bond  in  suit  must 
do  this.  By  meditating  on  the  promise  thou 
comest  to  see  there  is  support  in,  and  deliverance 
out  of,  affliction  engaged  for;  but  none  will  come 
till  thou  commencest  thy  suit,  and  by  the  prayer  of 
faith  callest  in  the  debt.  ''Your  heart  shall  live 
that  seek  the  Lord."  "They  looked  unto  Him, 
and  were  lightened."  God  expects  to  hear  from 
you  before  you  can  expect  to  hear  from  Him.  If 
thou  "  resirainest  prayer,"  it  is  no  wonder  the 
mercy  promised  is  retained.  Meditation  is  like 
the  lawyer's  studying  the  case  in  order  to  his  plead- 
ing it  at  the  bar.  When,  therefore,  ihou  hast  viewed 
the  promise,  arrd  aflfected  thy  heart  with  the  riches 
of  it,  then  ply  thee  to  the  Throne  of  Grace,  and 
spread  it  before  the  Lord.  Thus  David:  "Re. 
member  Thy  word  unto  Thy  servant,  upon  which 
Thou  hast  caused  me  to  hope." 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

2.  Practice. 

(3522.)  Contemplation  is  an  excellent  part  of 
Divine  service,  but  charitable  actions  are  more 
useful.  ...  It  is  one  thing  to  inquire  which  is  in 
itself  more  excellent,  and  another  thing  to  say 
which  we  are  to  choose  ;  one  thing  to  say  this  is 
to  be  preferred  in  estimation,  and  another  to  say 
this  is  to  be  preferred  in  practice.  Ecstasies  and 
raptures  and  conversing  with  blessed  spirits  are 
certainly  actions  and  passions  respectively  of  greater 
eminence  than  dressing  the  sores  of  poor  boys  in 
hospitals  ;  and  yet  he  that  does  this  serves  (Jhrist 
and  does  good,  while  he  that  follows  after  the  others 
may  fall  into  the  delusions  of  the  devil.  That 
which  is  best  in  itself  is  not  best  for  me  :  it  is  best 
for  the  best  state,  but  not  for  the  state  of  men  who 
dwell  in  imperfection.  Strong  meat  is  belter  than 
milk,  but  this  is  best  for  babes  ;  and  therefore  he 
would  but  ill  consult  the  good  of  his  child  who. 


MED  IT  4  TION. 


i  591  ; 


MIRACLES, 


because  it  is  a  princely  boy,  would  feed  him  with 
beef  and  venison,  wild  boar  and  the  juice  of  great 
fishes.  Certainly  a  jewel  is  better  than  a  piece  of 
frieze,  and  gold  is  a  more  noble  and  perfect  sub- 
stance than  barley  :  and  yet  frieze  and  barley  do  in 
their  season  more  good  than  gold  and  jewels,  and 
are  therefore  much  more  eligible.  For  everything 
is  to  be  accounted  of  in  its  own  place  and  scene  of 
eminency  :  the  eye  loves  one  best,  and  the  tongue 
and  palate,  the  throat  ai*l  stomach  love  the  other. 
But  the  understanding  which  considers  both  gives 
the  value  according  to  the  degree  of  usefulness,  and 
to  the  end  of  its  ministry.  Now  though  our  under- 
standing can  consider  things  in  their  own  perfec- 
tions, and  proportion  honour  and  value  to  them  ; 
yet  that  which  is  better  than  kotiour,  love,  and 
desire,  union  and  fruition  are  due  to  those  things 
most,  which  it  may  be  we  honour  least.  And 
therefore  there  are  some  parts  of  the  service  of  God 
which  are  liice  meat  and  clothes,  and  some  are  like 
gold  and  jewels  ;  we  value  and  admire  these,  but 
we  are  to  choose  the  other ;  that  is,  we  prefer  one 
in  discourse,  and  the  other  in  use  ;  we  give  better 
words  to  one,  and  better  usages  to  the  other.  And 
therefore  those  parts  of  the  Divine  service  which 
are  most  necessary,  and  do  most  good  to  mankind, 
are  to  be  chosen  before  those  that  look  more  splen- 
didly, and  in  themselves  import  more  perfection. 
The  foundation  of  a  house  is  better  than  the  roof, 
though  the  roof  be  gilded  ;  and  that  part  of  the 
service  of  God  which  serves  the  needs  of  mankind 
most,  is  to  be  chosen  before  those  which  adorn  him 
better.  — Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(3523.)  I  would  not  only  have  my  affections  re- 
newed, but  also  my  actions  reformed  by  my  medita- 
tion. If  I  meditate  what  is  good  to  be  done,  and 
do  not  the  good  meditated  on,  I  lose  my  labour,  and 
take  much  pains  to  no  purpose.  Cogitation  is  the 
sowing  of  the  seed,  action  is  the  springing  of  it  up. 
The  former  is  hidden  and  under  ground,  the  latter 
is  visiljle,  and  many  are  the  better  for  it.  If  the 
seed  should  still  lie  buried  in  the  earth,  it  is  lost 
and  thrown  away  ;  it  is  the  springing  of  it  up  that 
causes  the  harvest.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(3524.)  Our  hearts  and  affections  should  answer 
our  thoughts,  as  the  echo  the  voice,  and  the  wax 
the  character  in  the  seal.  If  our  meditations  do 
not  better  our  hearts,  they  do  nothing.  Whilst 
they  swim  in  the  mind,  as  light  things  floating  on 
the  waters,  they  are  unprofitable  ;  but  wlien  they 
sink  down  into  the  affections,  as  heavy  and  weighty 
things,  making  suitable  and  real  impressions  there, 
then  they  attain  their  end.  Our  design  in  meditation 
must  be  rather  to  cleanse  our  hearts,  than  to  clear 
our  heads.  "  Whilst  I  was  musing  the  fire  burned." 
We  strike  fire  by  meditation  to  kindle  our  affections. 
This  application  of  the  thoughts  to  the  heart  is  like 
the  natural  heat,  which  digests  the  food  and  turns 
it  into  good  nourishment. 

The  close  applying  of  our  meditations  to  our 
hearts  is  like  the  applying  and  rubbing  in  oil  on  a 
nenumbed  joint,  which  recovers  it  to  its  due  sense. 
He  that  omits  it,  doth  as  a  chapman  that  appraises 
ware  and  cheapens  it,  but  does  not  buy  it,  and  so 
is  never  the  better  for  it.  -r-Swinnock,  1673. 

(3525.)  The  Christian  must  not  only  pray  his 
good  thoughts,  but  practise  them  ;  he  must  not  lock 
tiiciL.  up  in  his  mind,  but  lay  them  out  in  his  lii'e. 


A  council  of  war  or  of  state  is  wholly  useless,  If 
there  be  none  to  execute  what  they  determine. 
That  kingdom  flourishes  best  where  faithful  execu- 
tion follows  upon  sound  advisements  :  therefore 
the  heathen  pronounced  that  city  safe  which  had 
the  heads  of  old  men  for  consideration,  and  the 
hands  of  young  men  for  execution.  Action  without 
consideration  is  usually  lame  and  defective  :  con- 
sideration without  action  is  lost  and  abortive. 
Though  meditation,  like  Rachel,  be  more  fair ; 
execution,  like  Leah,  is  most  fruitful.  Good  in- 
tentions without  suitable  actions  are  like  a  piece 
chajged  without  a  bullet,  which  may  make  a  noise, 
but  does  no  good,  no  execution. 

It  is  in  vain  to  pretend,  that,  like  Moses,  we  go 
into  the  mount  of  contemplation  and  converse  with 
God,  unless  we  come  down  as  he  did  with  our  faces 
shining,  our  conversations  more  resplendent  with 
holiness.  — Swinnock,  1673. 


MIRACLES. 

1.  Defined. 

(3526.)  A  miracle  is  a  work  exceeding  the  power 
of  any  created  agent,  consequently  being  an  effect 
of  the  Divine  omnipotence.  — South,  1633-1716. 

2.  Are  not  Incredible. 

(3527.)  It  seems  to  me  that  it  needs  no  great 
power  of  faith  to  believe  in  the  miracles,  for  true 
faith  is  a  power,  not  a  mere  yielding.  There  are 
far  harder  things  to  believe  than  the  miracles.  For 
a  man  is  not  required  to  believe  in  them  save  as 
believing  in  Jesus.  If  a  man  can  believe  that  there 
is  a  God,  he  may  well  believe  that,  having  made 
creatures  capable  of  hungering  and  thirsting  for 
Ilim,  He  must  be  capable  of  sjieaking  a  word  to 
guide  them  in  their  feeling  after  Him.  And  if  He  is 
a  grand  God,  a  God  worthy  of  being  God,  yea  (His 
metaphysics  even  may  show  the  seeker),  if  He  is  a 
God  capable  of  being  God,  He  will  speak  the 
clearest,  grandest  word  of  guidance  which  He  can 
utter  intelligible  to  His  creatures.  For  us  that 
word  must  simjily  be  the  gathering  of  all  the  ex- 
pressions of  His  visible  works  into  an  infinite  human 
face,  lighted  up  by  an  infinite  human  soul  behind 
it, — namely,  that  potential  essence  of  man,  if  I  may 
use  a  word  of  my  own,  which  was  in  the  beginning 
with  God.  If  God  should  thus  hear  the  cry  of  the 
noblest  of  His  creatures, — for  such  are  all  they  who 
do  cry  after  Him, — and  in  very  deed  show  them 
His  face,  it  is  but  natural  to  expect  that  the  deeds 
of  the  great  Messenger  should  be  just  the  works  of 
the  Father  done  in  little.  If  He  came  to  reveal 
His  Father  in  miniature,  as  it  were  (for  in  these 
unspeakable  things  we  can  but  use  figures,  and  the 
homeliest  may  be  the  holiest),  to  tone  down  His 
great  voice — which,  too  loud  for  men  to  hear  it 
aright,  could  but  sound  to  them  as  an  inarticulate 
thundering — into  such  a  still  small  voice  as  might 
enter  their  human  ears  in  welcome  human  speech, 
then  the  works  that  His  Father  does  so  widely,  so 
grandly,  that  they  transcend  the  vision  of  men,  the 
Son  must  do  briefly  and  sharply  before  their  very 
eyes.  — George  Macdonald. 

{3528 )  If  infidelity  wishes  to  shake  the  Chris- 
tian's faith  in  a  personal  God,  it  must  account,  not 
for  the  miracles  of  the  first  century  merely,  but  for 
those  of  the  nineteenth.  — Lynmn  Abbott. 


MIRACLES. 


(    S92    ) 


MIRACLES. 


3.  Reasonableness  of  our  confidence  that  tlie 
New  Testament  miracles  were  really  wrought. 

(3529-)  A  man  cannot  be  fairly  re<|uired  to 
believe  anything  very  strange  and  unlikely,  except 
when  there  is  something  still  more  strange  and  un- 
likely on  the  opposite  side.  Now  that  is  just  the 
case  with  respect  to  the  Christian  miracles ;  for, 
wonderful  as  the  whole  gospel  history  is,  the  most 
wonderful  thing  of  all  is,  that  a  Jewish  peasant 
should  have  succeeded  in  changing  the  religion  of 
the  world.  That  He  should  have  succeeded  in  doing 
this  without  displaying  any  miracles  would  have 
been  more  wonderful  than  all  the  miracles  that  are 
recorded  ;  and  that  He  should  have  accomplished 
all  this  by  means  of /'v/^'Wi/.frt' miracles,  when  none 
were  really  performed,  would  be  most  incredible  of 
all.  So  that  those  who  are  unwilling  to  believe 
anything  that  is  strange  cannot  escape  doing  so  by 
disbelieving  the  gospel  ;  but  will  have  to  believe 
something  still  more  strange  if  they  reject  the 
gospel. 

And  it  is  the  same  in  many  other  cases  as  well 
as  in  what  relates  to  religion.  We  are  often  obliged 
to  believe,  at  any  rate,  in  something  that  is  very 
wonderful,  in  order  to  avoid  believing  something 
else  that  is  still  more  wonderful.  For  instance,  it 
is  well  known  that  in  these  islands,  and  in  several 
other  parts  of  the  world,  there  are  great  beds  of  sea- 
shells  found  near  the  top  of  hills,  sometimes  several 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  Now  it  is  certainly 
very  hard  to  believe  that  the  sea  should  ever  have 
covered  these  places  which  now  lie  so  far  above  it  ; 
and  yet  we  are  compelled  to  believe  this,  because 
we  cannot  think  of  any  other  way  that  is  not  far 
more  incredible  by  which  those  shells  have  been 
deposited  there. 

And  so  it  is  with  gospel  history.  We  are  sure 
that  the  Christian  religion  does  now  exist,  and  has 
overspread  most  of  the  civilised  world  ;  and  we 
know  that  it  was  not  first  introduced  and  propa- 
gated (like  that  of  Mohammed)  by  force  of  arms. 
To  believe  that  it  was  received,  and  made  its  vvay, 
without  miracles,  would  be  to  believe  something 
more  miraculous  (if  one  may  so  speak)  than  all  the 
miracles  that  our  books  record. 

—  Whateley,  1787-1863. 

4.  Their  relation  to  natural  law. 

( I . )  Not  distinguished  from  the  effects  of  naiural 
taw  in  being  works  of  God. 

(3530.)  The  distinction  which  is  sometimes  made, 
that  in  the  miracles  God  is  immediately  working, 
find  in  other  events  is  leaving  it  to  the  laws  which 
He  has  established  to  work,  cannot  at  all  be 
admitted  :  for  it  has  its  root  in  a  dead  mechanical 
view  of  the  universe,  lying  altogether  remote  from 
the  truth.  The  clock-maker  makes  his  clock,  and 
leaves  it  ;  the  ship-builder  builds  and  launches  his 
ship,  and  others  navigate  it  ;  the  world,  however, 
is  no  curious  piece  of  mechanism  which  its  Maker 
constructs,  and  then  dismisses  from  His  hands,  only 
)rom  time  to  time  reviewing  and  repairing  it  ;  but, 
as  our  Lord  says,  "My  Father  worketh  hitherto, 
and  I  work"  (John  v.  17).  He  "  upholdeth  all 
things  by  the  word  of  His  power  "  (Heb.  i.  3). 

— Trench. 

(2.)  Are  not  contraventions  of  natural  law. 
(3531.)  A  miracle  is  commonly  defined  to  be  a 
contravention  of  'he  laws  of  nature.     More  properly 


speaking,  it  is  only  a  higher  operation  of  thoM 
same  laws,  in  a  form  hitherto  unseen.  A  miracle 
is  perhaps  no  more  a  suspension  or  contradiction 
of  the  laws  of  nature  than  a  hurricane  or  a  thunder- 
storm. They  who  first  travelled  to  tropical  latitudes 
came  back  with  anecdotes  of  supernatural  convuU 
sions  of  the  elements.  In  truth,  it  was  only  that 
they  had  never  personally  witnessed  such  effects; 
but  the  hurricane  which  swept  the  waves  flat,  and 
the  lightning  which  illuminated  all  the  heavens  or 
played  upon  the  bayonets  or  masts  in  lambent 
flames,  were  but  effects  of  the  very  same  laws  ol 
electricity  and  meteorology  which  were  in  operation 
at  home.  — Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(3532.)  A  miracle  is  perhaps  no  more  in  con- 
travention of  the  laws  of  the  universe  than  the 
direct  interposition  of  a  whole  nation,  in  cases  ot 
emergency,  to  uphold  what  is  right  in  opjiosition  to 
what  is  established,  is  an  opposition  to  the  laws  of 
the  realm.  For  instance,  the  whole  people  of 
Israel  reversed  the  unjust  decree  of  Saul  which  had 
sentenced  Jonathan  to  death.  But  law  is  the 
expression  only  of  a  people's  will.  Ordinarily  we 
see  that  expression  mediately  made  through  judges, 
office-bearers,  kings  ;  and  so  long  as  we  see  it  in 
this  mediate  form,  we  are  by  habit  satisfied  that  all 
is  legal.  There  are  cases,  however,  in  which,  not 
an  indirect,  but  a  direct  expression  of  a  nation's 
will  is  demanded.  Extraordinary  cases  ;  and  because 
extraordinary,  they  who  can  only  see  what  is  legal 
in  what  is  customary,  conventional,  and  in  the 
routine  of  written  precedents,  get  bewildered,  and 
reckon  the  anomalous  act  illegal  or  rebellious.  In 
reality,  it  is  only  the  source  of  earthly  law,  the 
nation,  pronouncing  the  law  without  the  interven- 
tion of  the  subordinate  agents. 

This  will  help  us  to  understand  the  nature  of  a 
miracle.  What  we  call  laws  are  simply  the  sub- 
ordinate  expressions  of  a  will.  There  must  be  a 
will  before  there  can  be  a  law.  Certain  antecedents 
are  followed  by  certain  consequents.  When  we 
see  this  succession,  we  are  satisfied,  and  call  it 
natural.  But  there  are  emergencies  in  which  it 
may  be  necessary  for  the  will  to  assert  itself,  and 
become  not  the  mediate  but  the  immediate  ante- 
cedent to  the  consequent.  No  subordinate  agent 
interposes  ;  simply  the  first  cause  comes  in  contact 
with  a  result.  The  audible  expression  of  will  is 
followed  immediately  by  something  which  is 
generally  preceded  by  some  lower  antecedent, 
which  we  call  a  cause.  In  this  case  you  will 
observe  there  has  been  no  contravention  of  the 
laws  of  nature;  there  has  only  been  an  immediate 
connection  between  the  first  cause  and  the  last 
result.  A  miracle  is  the  manifestation  to  man  of 
the  voluntariness  of  power. 

— Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(3533.)  An  organ  is  a  certain  instrument  curiously 
framed  or  adjusted  in  its  parts,  and  prepared  to 
yield  itself  to  any  force  which  touches  the  keys. 
An  animal  runs  back  and  forth  across  the  key- 
board, and  produces  a  jarring,  disagreeable  jumble 
of  sounds.  Tliereupon  he  begins  to  reason,  and 
convinces  himself  that  it  is  the  nature  of  the  instru- 
ment to  make  such  sounds,  and  no  other.  But  a 
skilful  player  comes  to  the  instrument,  as  a  higher 
presence,  endowed  with  a  supernatural  sense  and 
skill.  He  strikes  the  keys,  and  all  melodious  and 
heavenly  sounds  roll  out  upon  the  enchanted  air. 


MIRACLES. 


(    593    ) 


MIRACLES. 


Will  the  animal  now  go  on  to  reason  that  this  is 
impossible,  incredible,  because  it  violates  the  nature 
of  the  instrument,  and  is  contrary  to  his  own 
experience  ?  Perhaps  he  may,  and  men  may  some- 
times not  be  wiser  than  he.  But  the  player  himself, 
and  all  that  can  think  it  possible  for  him  to  do 
what  the  animal  cannot,  will  have  no  doubt  that 
the  music  is  made  by  the  same  laws  that  made  the 
jargon.  Just  so  Christ,  to  whose  will  or  touch 
our  mundane  system  is  as  pliant  as  to  ours,  may  be 
able  to  execute  results  through  iis  very  laws  sub- 
ordinated to  Him,  which  to  us  are  impossible. 
Nay,  it  would  be  itself  a  contradiction  of  all  order 
and  fit  relation  if  He  could  not.  To  suppose  that 
a  being  out  of  humanity  will  be  shut  up  within  all 
the  limitations  of  humanity  is  incredible  and  con- 
trary to  reason.  The  very  laws  of  nature  them- 
selves, having  Him  present  to  them  as  a  new  ai;ent 
and  higher  first  term,  would  require  the  develop- 
ment of  new  consequences  and  incidents  in  the 
nature  of  wonders.  Being  a  miracle  Himself,  it 
would  be  the  greatest  of  all  miracles  if  He  did  not 
work  miracles.  — Bushnell. 

(3S34-)  We  should  term  the  miracle  not  the  in- 
fraction of  a  law,  but  behold  in  it  the  lower  law 
neutialised,  and  for  the  time  put  out  of  working  by 
a  higher ;  and  of  this  abundant  analogous  ex- 
amples are  evermore  going  forward  before  our  eyes. 
Continually  we  behold  in  the  world  around  us  lower 
laws  held  in  restraint  by  higher,  mechanic  by 
dynamic,  chemical  by  vital,  physical  by  moral ;  yet 
we  say  not,  when  the  lower  thus  gives  place  in 
favour  of  the  higher,  that  there  was  any  violation 
of  law,  or  that  anything  contrary  to  nature  came  to 
pass  ;  rather  we  acknowledge  the  law  of  a  greater 
freedom  swallowing  up  the  law  of  a  lesser. 

Thus,  when  I  lift  my  arm,  the  law  of  gravitation 
is  not,  as  far  as  my  arm  is  concerned,  denied  or 
annihilated  ;  it  exists  as  much  as  ever,  but  is  held 
in  suspense  by  the  higher  law  of  my  will. 

The  chemical  laws  which  would  bring  about 
decay  in  animal  substances  still  subsist,  even  when 
they  are  checked  and  hindered  by  the  salt  which 
keeps  'hose  substances  from  corruption. 

The  law  of  sin  in  a  regenerate  man  is  held  in 
continual  check  by  the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  ;  yet 
it  is  in  his  members  still,  not  indeed  working,  for  a 
mightier  law  has  stepped  in  and  now  holds  it  in 
abeyance,  but  still  there,  and  ready  to  work,  did 
that  higher  law  cease  from  its  more  etiectual 
operation. 

What  in  each  of  these  cases  is  wrought  may  be 
against  one  particular  law,  that  law  being  contem- 
plated in  its  isolation,  and  rent  away  from  the  complex 
of  laws,  whereof  it  forms  only  a  part.  But  no  law 
does  thus  stand  alone,  and  it  is  not  against,  but 
rather  in  entire  harmuny  with,  the  system  of  laws  ; 
for  the  law  of  those  laws  is,  that  where  powers 
come  into  conflict,  the  weaker  shall  give  place  to 
the  stronger,  the  lower  to  the  higher. 

— Trench. 

(3,)  Suptrnatural  uses  c/  natural  law  are  neither 

imvnaivable  nor  rart. 

(3535-)  What  is  implied  in  a  miraculous  dis- 
pensation? 1  will  not  pause  to  attempt  what  has 
been  so  often  attempted,  the  definition  of  a  miracle. 
I  will  not  in  the  meantime  inquire,  whether  the 
speaking  of  it  as  a  suspension  of  the  ordinary  laws 
of  nature  by  the  direct  interposition  of  God,  be  a 


strictly  accurate  mode  of  expression  or  not ;  I  «H11 

merely  say,  that  to  me  it  appears  inaccurate,  i  do 
not  conceive  that  suspension  of  an  otherwise  me- 
vitable  operation  of  one  power  or  law  in  the  universe 
by  the  control  of  a  higher  power,  is  to  be  regarded 
as  miraculous.  The  law  of  gravitation,  for  ex- 
ample, is  not  truly  to  be  regarded  as  superseded, 
because  a  man  places  his  hand  under  a  heavy  body 
that  is  about  to  fall,  and  by  the  voluntary  control 
that  he  has  over  his  muscles  prevents  the  law  of 
gravitation  from  operating  that  particular  effect. 
Now,  believing  that  the  power  of  God  is  not  only 
everywhere  present,  but  everywhere  in  action,  be- 
lieving that  the  action  of  all  subordinate  laws  is 
ultimately  the  action  of  this  highest  law,  I  believe 
that  the  operation  of  the  Divine  power  is  not  only 
everywhere  present,  but  that  its  presence  is  neces- 
sary to  the  ultimate  operation  of  all  the  subordinate 
laws  or  powers ;  and  therefore  I  do  not  regard 
those  powers  or  a  course  of  nature  as  (strictly 
speaking)  suspended,  because  that  power,  which  is 
both  present  and  necessarily  present,  shall  by  the 
direct  will  of  God  control  any  particular  effect  that 
those  laws  would  otherwise  have  operated. 

—A.  J.  Scott,  1866. 

(3536.)  The  most  rigid  prevalence  of  law  and 
necessary  sequence  among  purely  material  pheno- 
mena may  be  admitted  without  apprehension  by 
the  firmest  believer  in  miracles,  so  Icng  as  that 
sequence  is  so  interpreted  as  to  leave  room  for  a 
power  indispensable  to  all  moral  obligation  and 
to  all  religious  belief — the  power  of  free  will  in 
man. 

Deny  the  existence  of  a  free  will  in  man,  and 
neither  the  possibility  of  miracles,  nor  any  other 
question  of  religion  or  morality,  is  worth  contending 
abjut.  Admit  the  existence  of  a  free  will  in  man, 
and  we  have  the  experience  of  a  power,  analogous, 
however  inferior,  to  that  which  is  supposed  to 
operate  in  the  production  of  a  miracle,  anci  forming 
the  basis  of  a  legitimate  argument  from  the  less  to 
the  greater.  In  the  will  of  man  we  have  the 
solitary  instance  of  an  Efficient  Cause  in  the  highest 
sense  of  the  term,  acting  among  and  along  with 
the  physical  causes  of  the  material  world,  and  pro- 
ducing results  which  would  not  have  been  brought 
about  by  any  invariable  sequence  of  physical  causes 
left  to  their  own  action.  V\'e  have  evidence,  also, 
of  an  elasticity,  so  to  speak,  in  the  constitution  of 
nature,  which  permits  tiie  inlluence  of  human  power 
on  the  phenomena  of  the  world  to  be  exercised  or 
suspended  at  will,  without  affecting  the  stability  of 
the  whole.  We  have  thus  a  precedent  for  allowing 
the  possibility  of  a  similar  interference  of  a  higher 
will  on  a  grander  scale,  provided  for  by  a  similar 
elasticity  of  th*;  matter  subjected*to  its  influence. 
Such  interferences,  whether  produced  by  human  or 
by  superhuman  will,  are  not  contrary  to  the  laws  of 
matter  ;  but  neither  are  they  the  result  of  those 
laws.  They  are  the  work  ol  an  agent  who  is  in- 
dependent of  the  laws,  and  who,  therefore,  neither 
obeys  them  nor  disobeys  them.  If  a  man,  of  his 
own  free  will,  throws  a  stone  into  the  air,  the 
motion  of  the  stone,  as  soon  as  it  has  left  his  hand, 
is  determined  by  a  combination  of  purely  material 
laws  ;  partly  by  the  attraction  of  the  earth  ;  partly 
by  the  resistance  of  the  air  ;  partly  by  the  magni- 
tude and  direction  of  the  force  by  which  it  was 
thrown.  But  by  what  law  came  it  to  be  thrown  at 
all?     What  law  brought  about   the  circumstance 

2  P 


MIRACLES. 


(    594    ) 


MIRACLES. 


ttrouj^h  which  the  aforesaid  combination  of  material 
laws  came  into  operation  on  this  particular  occa- 
sion and  in  this  particular  manner?  The  law  of 
gravitation,  no  doubt,  remains  constant  and  un- 
broken, whether  the  stone  is  lying  on  the  ground 
or  moving  through  the  air  ;  but  neither  the  law  of 
gravitation,  nor  all  the  laws  of  matter  put  together, 
could  have  brought  about  this  particular  result 
without  the  interposition  of  the  free  will  of  the  man 
who  throws  the  stone.  Substitute  the  will  of  God 
for  the  will  of  man  !  and  the  argument,  which  in 
the  above  instance  is  limited  to  the  narrow  sphere 
within  which  man's  power  can  be  exercised,  be- 
comes applicable  to  the  whole  extent  of  creation, 
and  to  all  the  phenomena  which  it  embraces. 

— Mansd,  1820- 187 1. 

(3537.)  The  great  difficulty  heretofore  encoun- 
tered, in  establishing  the  faith  of  a  supernatural 
agency,  has  been  due  to  the  fact  that  we  have  made 
a  ghost  ot  it  ;  discussing  it  as  if  it  were  a  marvel  of 
superstition,  and  no  definite  and  credible  reality. 
Whereas  it  will  appear,  as  we  confront  our  diffi- 
culty more  thoughtfully  and  take  its  full  force,  that 
the  moment  we  begin  to  conceive  ourselves  rightly, 
we  become  ourselves  supernatural.  It  is  no  longer 
necessary  to  go  hunting  after  marvels,  apparitions, 
suspensions  of  the  laws  of  nature,  to  find  the  super- 
natural :  it  meets  us  in  what  is  least  transcendent 
and  most  familiar,  even  in  ourselves.  In  ourselves 
we  discover  a  tier  of  existences  that  are  above 
nature,  and,  in  all  their  most  orderly  actions,  are 
doing  their  will  upon  it.  The  very  idea  of  our 
personality  is  that  of  a  being  not  under  the  law  of 
cause  and  effect,  a  being  supernatural.  This  one 
point  clearly  apprehentled,  all  the  difficulties  of  our 
subject  are  at  once  relieved,  if  not  absolutely  and 
completely  removed. 

If  any  one  is  startled  or  shocked  by  what  appears 
to  be  the  extravagance  of  this  position,  let  him 
recur  to  our  definition,  viz.,  that  nature  is  the  world 
of  substance  whose  lazus  are  laivs  of  cause  and  effect, 
and  whose  events  transpU-e,  in  orderly  succession, 
under  those  laws ;  the  supernatural  is  that  ra7ige  of 
substance,  if  any  such  there  be,  that  acts  upon  the 
chain  of  cause  aiui  effect  in  nattire  from  ivilhout  the 
chain,  producing  thus  results  that  by  mere  nature, 
could  not  come  to  pass.  It  is  not  said,  be  it  observed, 
as  is  sometimes  done,  that  the  supernatural  implies 
a  suspension  of  the  laws  of  nature,  a  causing  them, 
for  the  time,  not  to  be — that,  perhaps,  is  never 
done — it  is  only  said  that  we,  as  powers  not  in  the 
line  of  cause  and  effect,  can  set  tlie  causes  in  nature 
at  work,  in  new  combinations  otherwise  never 
occurring,  and  produce  by  our  action  upon  nature 
results  which  she,  as  nature,  could  never  produce 
by  her  own  int^nal  acting. 

Illustrations  are  at  hand  without  number.  Thus 
nature,  for  example,  never  made  a  pistol,  or  gun- 
powder, or  pulled  a  trigger  ;  all  which  being  done, 
or  procured  to  be  done,  by  the  criminal  in  his  act 
of  murder,  he  is  hung  for  what  is  rightly  called  his 
unnatural  deed.  So  of  things  not  criminal ;  nature 
Bever  built  a  house  or  modelled  a  ship,  or  fitted  a 
coat,  or  invented  a  steam-engine,  or  wrote  a  book, 
•r  framed  a  constitution.  These  are  all  events  that 
spring  out  of  human  liberty,  acting  in  and  upon  the 
fealm  of  cause  and  effect,  to  produce  results  and 
tombinations,  which  mere  cause  and  effect  could 
not ;  and  at  some  point  of  th?  process  in  each,  we 
shall  be  'ound  coming  dowr   upon  nature,   by  an 


act  of  sovereignty  just  as  peremptory  and  mysteriom 
as  that  which  is  discovered  in  a  miracle,  only  that 
a  miracle  is  a  similar  coming  down  upon  it  Iroin 
another  and  higher  being,  and  not  from  ourselves. 
Thus,  for  example  in  the  firing  of  a  pistol,  we  find 
materials  brought  together  and  compounded  for 
making  an  explosive  gas,  an  arrangement  prepared 
to  strike  a  fire  into  the  substance  compounded,  an 
arm  pulled  back  to  strike  the  fire,  muscles  con- 
tracted to  pull  back  the  arm,  a  nervous  telegraph 
running  down  from  the  brain,  by  which  some  order 
has  been  sent  to  contract  the  muscles ;  and  then 
having  come  to  the  end  of  the  chain  of  natural 
causes,  the  jury  ask,  who  sent  the  mandate  down 
upon  the  nervous  telegraph,  ordering  the  said  con- 
traction ?  And  having  found,  as  their  true  answer, 
that  the  arraigned  criminal  did  it,  they  offer  this  as 
their  verdict,  and  on  the  strength  of  the  verdict  he 
is  hung.  He  had,  in  other  words,  a  power  to  set 
in  order  a  line  of  causes  and  effects,  existing  ele- 
mentally in  nature,  and  then,  by  a  sentence  of  his 
will,  to  start  the  line,  doing  his  unnatural  deed  ot 
murder.  If  it  be  inquired  how  he  was  able  to 
command  the  nervous  telegraph  in  this  manner, 
we  cannot  tell,  any  more  than  we  can  show  the 
manner  of  a  miracle.  The  same  is  true  in  regard 
to  all  our  most  common  actions.  If  one  simply 
lifts  a  weight,  overcoming,  thus  far,  the  great  law 
of  gravity,  we  may  trace  the  act  back  in  the  same 
way  ;  and  if  we  do  it  we  shall  come  at  last  to  the 
man  acting  in  his  personal  arbitrament,  and  shall 
find  him  sending  down  his  mandate  to  the  arm, 
summoning  its  contractions  and  sentencing  tlie 
weight  to  rise, — in  which,  as  we  perceive,  he  has 
just  so  much  of  power  given  him  to  vary  the  inci- 
dents and  actings  of  nature  as  determined  by  hei 
own  laws — so  much,  that  is,  of  power  supernatural. 
Finding  now  in  this  manner  that  we  ourselves 
are  supernatural  creatures,  and  that  the  super- 
natural, instead  of  being  some  distant,  ghostly 
affair,  is  similar  to  us  as  our  own  most  familiar 
action  ;  also,  that  nature,  as  a  realm  of  cause  and 
effect,  is  made  to  be  acted  on  from  without  by  us 
and  all  moral  beings — thus  to  be  the  environment 
of  our  life,  the  instrument  of  our  activity,  the 
medium  of  our  right  or  wrong  doing  toward  each 
other,  and  so  the  school  of  our  trial — a  further 
question  Tises,  viz.,  what  will  we  think  of  God's 
relations  to  nature?  If  it  be  nothing  incredible 
that  we  should  act  on  the  chain  of  cause  and  effect 
in  nature,  is  it  more  incredible  that  God  should 
thus  act  ?  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  is  the 
grand  offence  ol  supernaturalism,  the  supposing 
that  God  can  act  on  nature  from  without  ;  on  the 
chain  of  cause  and  effect  in  nature  from  without  the 
chain  of  connection,  by  which  natural  causes  are 
propagated — exactly  that  which  we  ourselves  are 
doing  as  the  most  familiar  thing  in  our  lives  !  It 
involves,  too,  as  we  can  see  at  a  glance,  no  disrup- 
tion by  us  of  the  laws  of  nature,  but  only  a  new 
combination  of  its  elements  and  forces,  and  need 
not  any  more  involve  such  a  disruption  by  Him. 
Nor  can  any  one  show  that  a  miracle  of  Christ  (the 
raising,  for  example,  of  Lazarus)  involves  anything 
more  than  that  nature  is  prepared  to  be  acted  on 
by  a  divine  power,  just  as  it  is  to  be  acted  on  by  a 
human  in  the  making  of  gunpowder,  or  the  making 
and  charging  of  a  firearm.  For  though  there  seems 
to  be  an  immense  difference  in  the  giade  of  the 
results  accomplished,  it  is  only  a  difference  which 
ought  to  appear  regarding  the  grade   of   the    Iwc 


MIRACLES. 


(    595    ) 


MIRACLES. 


agents  by  whom  they  are  wrought.  How  different 
the  power  of  two  men,  creatures  though  they  be  of 
the  same  order  ;  a  Newton,  for  example,  a  Watt, 
a  Fulton,  and  some  wild  Patagonian  or  stunted 
Esquimaux.  So,  if  tliere  be  angels,  seraphim, 
throTies,  dominions,  all  in  ascending  scales  of  en- 
dowment above  one  another,  they  will,  of  course, 
have  powers  supernatural,  or  capacities  to  act  on 
the  lines  of  causes  in  nature  that  correspond  with 
their  natural  quantity  and  degree.  What  wonder 
then  is  it,  in  the  case  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  He 
reveals  a  power  over  nature  apjnopriate  to  the  scale 
of  His  being  and  the  inherent  supremacy  of  His 
divine  person?  — Bushncll. 

(3538)  The  advocates  of  revelation  do  not  deny 
the  regularity  and  constancy  of  natural  laws.  We 
do  not  impeach  the  wisdom  and  perfection  of  these 
laws.  We  do  not  say  tliat  it  was  necessary  for  the 
Creator  to  modify  their  action  in  order  to  secure 
the  ends  for  which  they  were  established.  The  uni- 
form connection  between  antecedent  and  con- 
sequent is  a  postulate  both  of  Revelation  and 
Science.  If  the  connection  were  irregular  and  un- 
certain, there  could  be  no  scientific  knowletige  of 
the  material  world  —  nor  could  any  miraculous 
evidence  be  given  for  the  divine  commission  of  an 
inspired  prophet  ;  the  whole  force  of  the  argument 
from  miracles  rests  on  the  constancy  of  the  laws  of 
nature  ;  only  a  supernatural  power  can  account  for 
miraculous  phenomena.  But  whether  it  is  possible 
or  probable  that  miracles  sliould  be  wrought  to 
authenticate  a  direct  communication  from  God,  is  a 
question  on  which  physical  science  has  absolutely 
no  rigiit  to  pronounce  an  opinion.  She  cannot 
presume  to  limit  the  power  of  God  ;  she  cannot 
form  any  judgment  as  to  the  probability  of  His 
making  a  supernatural  revelation  of  Himself  to  man, 
or  as  to  the  means  He  will  select  to  prove  that  the 
revelation  really  comes  from  Him.  That  a  power 
higher  than  natural  law  can  manifest  itself  in  the 
very  provmces  which  belong  to  physical  science  is 
an  obvious  fact.  Account  for  the  elevation  of  my 
hand.  Physiology  will  reply  by  describing  the 
structure  of  my  arm,  the  mechanical  arrangements 
of  the  elbow  and  the  wrist,  the  action  of  the 
muscles,  and  the  influence  of  the  motor-nerves. 
This  is  the  region  of  law.  But  the  movement  of 
the  hand  is  not  accounted  for  yet,  behimi  these 
physiological  phenomena  there  is  another  power, 
my  supernatural  will.  Nor  will  it  do  to  say  that 
the  action  of  my  will  was  but  the  necessary  result 
of  the  motives  which  influenced  me  1  am  con- 
scious of  the  power  of  choosing  by  what  motive 
I  will  be  determined.  Trace  back  the  chain  of 
natural  antecedents  and  consequents  as  elaborately 
as  you  will,  and  you  will  reach  at  last  a  force  which 
is  above  nature,  in  attempting  to  explain  so  simple 
a  phenomenon  as  the  elevation  of  a  human  hand, 
nor  can  any  explanation  be  given  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  supernatural  volition  is  translated  into 
the  region  of  physical  law.  Take  the  Bible  lying 
on  this  desk,  why  do  you  believe  that  it  is  the  pro- 
duction of  human  thought  and  skill  ?  Simply  be- 
cause there  are  no  natural  laws  which,  left  to  their 
own  uncontrolled  and  unguided  action,  would  pro- 
duce a  sut)Stance  like  paper,  or  impress  on  it  the 
printed  characters  wliich  represent  human  language, 
or  bind  the  loose  sheets  into  a  volume.  It  is  not  a 
natural  production  at  all  ;  it  is  the  creation  of  a 
supernatural  will  employing  natural  substances  and 


natural  laws  to  effect  its  purpose.  What  is  miracu« 
lous  differs  from  what  is  artificial  simply  in  this — 
that  in  the  one,  effects  are  produced  which  can  be 
accounted  for  by  the  action  of  the  will  of  ninn  ; 
anil  in  the  other,  effects  are  produced  which  can  be 
accounted  for  only  by  the  action  of  the  will  of  God. 

—R.  W.  Dale. 
5.  Their  design. 

(35390  The  glory  of  Christ  did  not  I'^^m  with 
the  miracle  wrought  in  Cana  ;  the  miracle  onlj 
manifested  it.  For  thirty  years  the  wonder- woi  king 
power  had  been  in  Him.  It  was  not  divinei  power 
wiien  it  broke  forth  into  visible  manifestation,  than 
it  had  been  when  it  was  unsuspected  and  unseen. 
It  had  been  exercised  up  to  this  time  in  common 
acts  of  youthful  life  :  obedience  to  His  mother,  love 
to  His  brethren.  Well,  it  was  just  as  divine  in 
those  simple,  daily  acts,  as  when  it  showed  itself  in 
a  way  startling  and  wonderful.  It  was  just  as 
much  the  life  of  God  on  earth  when  He  did  an  act 
of  ordinary  human  love  or  human  duty,  as  when 
He  did  an  extraordinary  act,  such  as  turning  water 
into  wine.  God  was  as  much,  nay  more,  in  the 
daily  life  and  love  of  Christ,  than  He  was  in  Christ's 
mir.Tcles.  The  miracle  only  made  the  hidden  glory 
visible.  The  extraordinary  only  proved  that  th« 
ordinary  was  Divine.  Tliat  was  tlie  very  object  of 
ihe  miracle.  It  was  done  to  tnanijest  forth  His 
glory.  And  if,  instead  of  rousing  men  to  see  the 
real  glory  of  Christ  in  His  other  life,  the  miracle 
merely  fastened  men's  attention  on  itself,  and  made 
them  think  that  the  only  Glory  which  is  Divine  is  to 
be  found  in  what  is  wonderful  and  uncommon,  then 
the  whole  intention  of  the  miracle  was  lost. 

Let  us  make  this  more  plain  by  an  illustration. 
To  the  wise  man,  the  lightning  only  manifests  the 
electric  force  which  is  everywhere,  and  which  for 
one  moment  has  become  visible.  As  often  as  he 
sees  it,  it  reminds  him  that  the  lightning  slumbers 
invisibly  in  the  dew-drop,  and  in  the  mist,  and  in 
the  cloud,  and  binds  together  every  atom  of  the 
water  that  he  uses  in  daily  life.  But  to  the  vulgar 
mind  the  lightning  is  something  unique,  a  some- 
thing which  has  no  existence  but  when  it  appears. 
There  is  a  fearful  glory  in  the  lightning  because  he 
sees  it.  But  there  is  no  startling  glory  and  nothing 
fearful  in  the  drop  of  dew,  because  he  does  not 
know,  what  the  Thinker  knows,  that  the  flash  is 
there  in  all  its  terrors.  So,  in  the  same  way,  to  the 
half  believer  a  miracle  is  the  one  solitary  evidence 
of  God.  Without  it  he  could  have  no  certainty  of 
God's  existence. 

But  to  the  true  disciple  a  miracle  only  manifests 
the  Power  and  Love  which  are  silently  at  work 
everywhere,  as  truly  and  as  really  in  the  slow  work 
of  the  cure  of  the  insane,  as  in  the  sudden  expulsion 
of  the  legion  from  the  demoniac— as  divinely  in 
the  gift  of  daily  bread,  as  in  the  miraculous  multi- 
plication of  the  loaves.  God's  glory  is  at  work  in 
the  growth  of  the  vine  and  the  ripening  of  the 
grape,  and  the  process  by  which  grape-juice  passes 
into  wine.  It  is  not  7nore  glory,  but  only  glory 
more  manife':ted,  when  water  at  His  bidiling  passes 
at  once  into  wine.  And  be  sure  that  if  you  do  not 
feel,  as  David  felt,  God's  presence  in  the  annual 
miracle,  that  it  is  God,  which  in  the  vintage  of  every 
year  causeth  wine  to  make  glad  tlie  heart  of  man, 
the  sudden  miracle  at  Cajjernaum  would  nut  have 
given  you  conviction  of  His  presence.  "  If  you 
hear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets,  neither  will  you 
be   persuaded   though   one   rose  from   the  dead." 


MIRACLES. 


(     ^6    ) 


MIRACLES. 


Miracles  have  only  done  their  work  when  they 
teach  us  tlie  s'^O'  ^'^'^  '''^  awfulness  that  suiround 
our  common  life.  In  a  miiacle,  God  for  one  moment 
shows  Hmiself,  that  we  may  remember  it  is  He 
that  is  at  work  when  no  miracle  is  seen. 

—F.  VV.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(3540.)  A  miracle  is  by  its  very  definition  an 
excei'tional  case ;  if  you  could  imagine  miracle 
estaljlished  inio  law,  it  would  be  miracle  no  longer. 
And  it  is  a  fact,  in  regard  to  the  development  of 
human  thought,  that  it  is  exceptional  cases  that 
draw  the  attention  of  mankind  to  general  laws. 
For  example,  those  observations  by  which  philo- 
sophers were  fust  led  to  think  of  electricity  as  a 
principle  pervading  a  certain  region  of  the  material 
world,  were  not  instances  of  its  normal  condition, 
in  which  it  exists,  binding  all  matter  together.  It 
is  not  while  electiicity  subsists  in  tlie  form  of 
chemical  affinity,  the  acting  principle  of  the  com- 
binations of  the  elementary  principles  of  matter, 
that  the  attention  of  men  is  forced  towards  it  :  it  is 
when  it  comes  out  as  tiie  spark  from  the  electrical 
machine,  or  from  the  terrible  thunder-cloutl,  that 
we  are  led  to  consider  what  this  mysterious  agency 
may  be.  And  from  these  isolated  cases  we  follow 
it  on,  we  trace  it  to  its  lurking  places,  as  it  were, 
and  ultimately  find  that  it  is  a  grand  pervading 
universal  law  of  the  physical  woild.  Uo  not  sup- 
pose that  the  subject  oi  illustration  is  lowered  by 
such  a  comparison  as  this.  At  all  events,  it  may 
assist  towards  intelligibility  when  I  say  that  a 
miracle  is  an  exceptional  case,  in  like  manner  of 
the  Divine  procedure,   introduced  for   the    express 

[)urposc  of  calling  man's  attention  to  a  permanent 
aw  of  the  Divine  procedure.  And  the  Jewish 
theocracy  was  a  case  in  which  God  held  a  nation 
together  by  miracle,  for  the  sake  of  calling  man's 
attention  to  tlie  abiding  laws  by  which  God,  as  the 
Creator  of  mankind,  holds  nations  together  in  the 
proportion  as  tliese  laws  are  observed. 

—A.  J.  Scott,  1866. 

(354')  The  Bible  reveals  to  us  the  spiritual 
source  of  the  physical  world  :  siiows  to  us  that  the 
supernatural  is  riot  antagonistic  to  the  constitution 
o(  nature,  but  is  the  eternal  source  of  it.  The 
miracles  of  the  Bible  are  not  only  emblems  of  po«  er 
in  the  spiritual  world,  but  also  exponents  of  the 
miracles  of  nature,  experiments,  as  it  were,  made 
by  the  Great  Teacher  in  person,  on  a  small  scale 
and  within  a  limited  time,  to  illustrate  to  mankind 
the  phenomena  that  are  taking  place  over  longer 
periods  throughout  the  universe.  All  creation  is  a 
standing  wonder,  but  it  needs  other  wonders  to 
reveal  it  to  our  careless  eyes  and  insensible  hearts. 
It  needs  the  sudden  multiplication  of  the  loaves 
and  fishes  at  Capernaum  to  explain  to  us  the 
mystery  of  the  harvest  of  the  land  and  the  sea.  It 
needs  the  miracle  of  Cana  to  show  to  us  who  it  is 
that  is  gradually  converting  water  into  wino  in 
every  vineyard.  It  needs  the  virtue  flowing  from 
the  hem  of  Christ's  garment  at  the  touch  of  faith, 
to  disclose  to  us  the  source  and  the  meaning  of  the 
medicinal  virtue  stored  up,  for  bodies  blighted  by 
the  curse,  in  many  a  soothing  anodyne  and  many  a 
healing  balm.  It  needs  the  destruction  of  the  walls 
of  Jericho  by  the  trumpet  blast  to  convince  us  that 
the  seen  is  governed  by  the  unseen,  that  the  moun- 
tain must  yield  to  the  action  ol  cold  and  heat,  and 
the  stable  ruck  and  massive  castle  in  the  cciirse  of 


years  be  withered  away  and  dismantled  stone  by 
stone  by  the  subtle  and  invisible  forces  of  the  air. 
It  needs  the  calming  of  the  stoimy  waters  of 
Gennesaret  to  satisly  us  that  the  powers  of  nature 
which  seem  so  arbitrary,  so  destructive,  so  purely 
physical,  are  held  in  leash  by  Him  who  maintains 
the  constant  beneficent  circulation  of  the  elements. 
The  philosophy  of  miracles  is,  therefore,  just  the  reve- 
lation of  the  living  God,  as  the  God  of  nature  ;  the 
revelation  of  God,  not  as  violating,  but  as  maintain- 
ing the  oitler  of  His  world  :  a  revelation  sudden 
and  startling,  to  show  to  us  what  could  not  be 
shown  so  effectually  in  any  other  way,  what  "  His 
hand  is  daily  doing  for  the  beautifying  and  glorify- 
ing of  the  earth  and  of  life."  As  Mr.  Westcott 
says,  in  his  thoughtful  work  on  Miracles,  "The 
order  of  the  universe  has  a  spiritual  root.  The 
purpose  of  love  which  changes  is  also  the  purpose 
of  love  which  directs  it.  He  who  can  bind  and 
loose  the  forces  of  nature  has  thus  revealed  the 
eternal  purpose  in  which  they  originate." 

— Macmillan. 

{3542.)  When  God  had  some  new  tidings  to  tell 
to  th  -•  world,  which  they  could  not  have  found  out 
by  their  own  sense  and  wit,  He  gave  to  the  men 
whom  He  sent  with  the  message  the  power  of 
working  miracles.  The  miracles  were  a  sort  of 
bell,  which  they  rung  in  the  ears  of  their  genera- 
tion, that  people  might  listen  to  what  they  had  to 
say,  and  believe  that  it  came  from  Heaven.  Thus 
when  God  sent  Moses  upon  an  errand  to  the  Israel- 
ites, in  order  that  the  Israelites  might  attend  to 
what  he  said,  God  gave  him  the  power  of  working 
all  manner  of  wonders.  — Goulburn. 

(3543-)  The  miracles  of  Christ  have  been  very 
much  perverted  by  discussions,  and  by  not  being 
looked  at  along  the  line  in  which  they  were  meant 
to  play.  They  were  simply  charities.  They  were, 
to  be  sure,  alleged  to  have  a  certain  influence  among 
an  abject  and  superstitious-minded  people,  but 
Christ  Himself  undervalued  them  as  moral  evi- 
dence. They  were  alternative,  as  evidence.  "  If 
you  will  not  believe  Me  for  My  own  sake,"  He 
says,  "believe  Me  for  My  works'  sake."  He  held 
that  the  radiant  presentation  of  a  divine  nature 
ought  to  carry  its  own  evidence ;  that  when  He 
appeared  in  speech,  in  conduct,  in  affluent  atiection, 
He  was  Himself  His  own  best  evidence  ;  and  yet, 
if  they,  by  reason  of  obtuseness,  could  not  believe 
in  Him  otherwise.  He  called  upon  them  to  believe 
in  Him  for  the  sake  of  His  miracles.  That  would 
be  better  than  nothing.  But  He  discouraged  and 
dissuaded  men  from  seeking  after  miracles  or  signs. 
The  miracles  of  Christ  were,  almost  all  of  them, 
mere  acts  of  benevolence.  He  was  poor  ;  He  had 
neither  money  nor  raiment  to  give;  and  yet  there 
was  suffering  around  about  Him,  and  He  relieved 
it.  — Beecher, 

6.  Under  what  conditions  they  are  authori- 
tative. 

(3544.)  We  have  the  highest  possible  authority, 
that  of  Scripture  itself,  to  justify  us  in  putting  the 
question  :  whether  miracles  can,  of  themselves, 
work  a  true  conviction  in  the  mind  ?  There  are 
spiritual  truths  which  must  derive  their  evidence 
from  within,  which  whoever  rejects,  "neither  will 
he  believe  though  a  man  were  to  rise  from  the 
dead "  to  contiim  them.  And  under  the  Mosaic 
law,    a   miracle   in  attestation  of  a  false  doctrine 


MIRACLES. 


(    597    ) 


MIRACLES. 


subjected  the  miracle-worker  to  death  :  whether 
really  or  only  seemingly  supernatural,  making  no 
difference  in  the  present  argument,  its  power  of 
convincing,  whatever  tliat  power  may  be,  whether 
great  or  small,  depending  on  the  fulness  of  the 
belief  in  its  miraculous  nature.  Est  quibiis  esse 
videtur.  Or  rather,  that  I  may  express  the  same 
position  in  a  form  less  likely  to  offend,  is  not  a 
true  efficient  conviction  of  a  moral  truth,  is  not 
"the  creating  of  a  new  heart,"  which  collects  the 
energies  of  a  man's  being  in  the  focus  of  the  con- 
science, the  one  essential  miracle,  the  same  and  of 
the  same  evidence  to  the  ignorant  and  to  the 
learned,  which  no  superior  skill  can  counterfeit, 
human  or  demoniacal?  Is  it  not  enijjhatically  that 
leading  of  the  Father,  without  which  no  man  can 
come  to  Christ?  Is  it  not  that  implication  of 
doctrine  in  the  miracle,  and  of  miracle  in  the 
doctrine,  which  is  the  bridge  of  communication 
between  the  senses  and  the  soul?  That  predispos- 
ing warmth  that  renders  the  understanding  suscep- 
tible of  the  specific  impression  from  the  historic, 
and  from  all  other  outward  seals  of  testimony? 
Is  not  this  the  one  infallible  criterion  of  miracles, 
by  which  a  man  can  know  whether  they  be  of  God  ? 
The  abhorrence  in  which  the  most  savage  or 
barbnrou-;  tribes  hold  witchcraft,  in  which,  how- 
ever, their  belief  is  so  intense  as  even  to  control 
the  springs  of  life, — is  not  this  abhorrence  of  witch- 
craft, and  so  full  a  conviction  of  its  reality,  a  proof 
how  little  of  divine,  how  little  fitting  to  our  nature, 
a  miracle  is  when  insulated  from  spiritual  truths, 
and  disconnected  from  religion  as  its  end  ? 

— ^^   7\  Coleridge,  1 772-1834. 

(3545-)  The  fact  that  the  kingdom  of  lies  has  its 
wonders  no  less  than  the  kingdom  of  truth,  would 
be  alone  sufficient  to  convince  us  that  miracles 
cannot  be  appealed  to  absolutely  and  simply,  in 
proof  of  the  doctrine  which  the  worker  of  them 
proclaims  ;  and  God's  Word  expressly  declares  the 
same  (Deut.  xiii.  1-5).  A  miracle  does  not  proye 
the  truth  of  a  doctrine,  or  the  divine  mission  of  him 
that  brings  it  to  pass.  That  which  alone  it  claims 
for  him  at  the  first  is  a  right  to  be  listened  to  :  it  puts 
him  in  the  alternative  of  being  from  heaven  or  horn 
hell.  The  doctrine  must  first  commend  itself  to 
the  conscience  as  being  good,  and  only  then  can 
the  miracle  seal  it  as  divine,  — Trench. 

7.  Their  Blgniflcance  should  be  pondered. 

(3546.)  Often  some  one  sees  fair  characters 
written,  then  praises  he  the  writer  and  the  char- 
acters, but  knows  not  what  they  mean.  He  who 
understands  the  art  of  writing  praises  its  fairness, 
and  reads  the  characters,  and  comprehends  their 
meaning.  In  one  way  we  look  at  a  picture,  and  in 
tmother  at  character.  Nothing  more  is  necessary 
for  a  picture  than  that  you  see  anil  praise  it  :  but  it 
is  not  enough  to  look  at  characters,  without  at  the 
same  time  reading  them,  and  understanding  their 
signitication.  bo  also  is  it  with  regard  to  the 
miracle.  — ^Ijric,  1 09 1. 

^.i547')  As  a  boy  that  cannot  write  at  all  looks 
with  wonder  and  admiration  upon  the  performance 
of  a  writing  master,  who  without  thought  can  form 
the  letters  and  sentences  so  as  to  make  the  page 
loak  like  engraving,  while  the  master  himself  lia» 
no  idea  that  he  is  doing  anything  extraordinary  ; 
GO  men  looked  with  wund&r  and  admiration  upon 


the  miracles  of  Christ,  by  which  He  fed  the  :nula- 
tiide,  turned  water  into  wine,  healed  the  sick,  cast 
out  devils,  brought  the  dead  from  their  shadowy 
land,  and  evoked  victory  out  of  defeat,  while  Christ 
Himself  did  not  regard  these  things  as  of  very 
great  importance.  They  were  merely  the  authen- 
tication of  His  divinity.  The  real  thing  for  which 
He  came  was  that  which  lay  beyond  this.  His 
errand  was  to  bring  upon  the  human  soul  a  cleans- 
ing power,  an  inspiring  power,  a  formative  power. 
He  was  to  set  us  free  from  sin,  inspire  in  us  a  long- 
ing for  purity,  and  form  our  character  on  that 
basis.  Accordingly,  Christ  is  presented  mainly  in 
the  New  Testament,  from  beginning  to  end,  in  His 
relations  to  the  soul  of  man.  Even  when  He  is 
compared  with  His  Father,  it  is  always  as  a  means 
of  exhibiting  with  greater  power  His  curative 
relation  to  the  human  soul.  — Beecher. 

8.  Their  cessation. 

(354S.)  "Why,"  say  you,  "do  not  those  things 
take  place  now?"  Because  they  would  not  move 
unless  they  were  wonderful,  and  if  they  were 
usual,  they  would  not  be  wonderful.* 

For  the  interchanges  of  day  and  night,  and  the 
settled  order  of  things  in  heaven,  the  revolution  of 
years  divided  into  four  parts,  the  fall  and  return  of 
leaves  to  trees,  the  boundless  power  of  seeds,  the 
beauty  ol  light,  the  varieties  of  colours,  sounds, 
tastes,  scents,  let  there  be  some  one  who  shall  see 
and  perceive  them  for  the  first  time,  and  yet  such 
an  one  as  we  may  converse  with  ;  he  is  stupefied 
and  overwhelmed  with  miracles  :  but  we  contemn 
all  these,  not  because  they  are  easy  to  understand, 
— for  what  more  obscure  than  the  causes  of  theses  ?— 
but  surely  because  they  constantly  meet  our  senses. 

Therefore    they    were   done    at    a    very    suitable 
time,  in  order  that,  by  these  a  multitude  of  believers 
having  been  gathered  together  and  spiead  abroad, 
authority  might  be  turned  with  efl'ect  upon  habits. 
—AiigHstine,  353-429. 

(3549.)  But  why  did  not  Christ  continue  this 
communication  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  His  churches 
still,  seeing  our  unbelief  is  strong,  and  we  have  still 
need  of  such  help  as  well  as  they  ? 

Answer  i.  We  have  the  full  use  and  benefit  ot 
the  Holy  Ghost  which  was  given  then,  that  seal 
that  was  then  set  to  the  Christian  doctrine  and 
Scriptures  stands  there  still.  When  Christ  hath 
fully  proved  to  the  world  the  truth  of  His  mediator- 
ship,  office,  and  doctrine,  must  He  still  continue 
the  same  actions?  Is  it  not  enough  that  He  sealed 
it  up  once,  but  must  He  set  a  new  seal  lor  every 
man  that  requireth  it  in  every  age?  Then  miracles 
would  be  no  miracles.  Must  your  landlord  seal 
your  lease  anew  every  time  you  will  causelessly 
question  his  former  seal? 

Then,  if  Christ  had  done  miracles  among  a  thou- 
sand, every  man  that  was  not  present  should  come 
and  say,  "  Do  the  like  before  me  also,  or  I  will  not 
believe."     Will  you  put  God  to  this,  that  either  He 

*  In  his  "  Retractiones,"  b.  i.  c.  14,  5,  Augustine  makes  the 
following  statement  in  regard  to  this  passage  : — "  In  another 
place,  where  I  had  made  mention  ot  the  miracles  which  our 
Lord  did  while  He  was  here  in  the  flesh,  I  added,  .saying, 
'  Why.'  say  you,  'do  not  those  things  take  place  now?'  and  I 
answered,  "  Because  they  would  not  move  unless  they  were 
v,\jnderful,  and  if  they  were  usual,  they  would  not  be  wonder- 
li'l.  But  this  1  said  because  not  sogieat  miracles,  nor  all, 
take  p  ace  now,  not  because  t/ure  are  none  •wroasht  even 
tiow," 


MIRACLES. 


(    598    ) 


MIRACLES. 


must  work  constant  miracles  in  every  age,  and 
before  every  man,  or  else  He  must  not  be  believed? 
What,  if  all  Christ's  works  had  been  done  at 
London,  and  we  had  not  seen  them  here  in  the 
couniry,  or  what,  if  all  this  town  had  seen  them 
excejU  one  man,  should  no  man  believe  them  but 
he  that  did  see  them?  Should  no  man  believe  that 
there  hath  been  any  wars  and  fighting  in  England, 
but  those  that  saw  the  battles?  Or  what,  ifthese 
things  had  been  done  in  our  forefathers'  days, 
should  not  we  have  believed  them  except  they  had 
been  done  in  ours?  We  have  as  full  testimony  of 
Christ's  and  His  apostles'  true  works  as  we  can 
have  of  any  of  these.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(SSS"-*-)  Certain  it  is,  that  now  these  extraordinary 
and  miraculous  powers  are  ceased,  and  that  upon  as 
good  reason  as  at  first  they  began.  For  wlien  the 
spiritual  building  is  consummate,  and  not  only  the 
corner  stone  laitl,  but  the  supei  structure  also  finished, 
to  what  ]iuri:iose  should  the  scaffolds  any  longer 
stand  ?  which  when  they  leave  off  to  contrfbute  to 
the  building,  can  s^rve  for  little  else  but  to  upbraid 
the  folly  of  the  builder.  Besides,  that  by  so  long  a 
continuance  miracle  would  almost  turn  into  nature, 
or  at  least  look  very  like  it ;  the  rarities  of  heaven 
would  grow  cheap  and  common,  and  (which  is 
very  preposterous  to  conceive )  they  would  be 
miracles  without  a  wonder.  — South,  1633-17 16. 

(3551O  In  the  beginnings  of  the  world,  before 
the  moral  sense  became  developed,  it  was  useful  to 
act  upon  the  moral  sense  througli  the  instrumentality 
of  miracles.  But  as  men's  moral  sense  grows,  and 
becomes  capable  of  appreciating  moral  evidence, 
miracles  cease  ; — as  the  nurse  in  the  household  is 
dispensed  with  when  the  child  is  grown  so  as  to  be 
able  to  take  care  of  itself.  — Beecher. 

9.  Folly  of  tlie  demand  tliat  miracles  shotild  be 
repeated. 

(3552.)  [A  doctrine  once  attested  by  miracle  is 
for  ever  to  be  believed.]  The  contrary  doctrine  of 
the  apostates  is  self-eontradicting  and  absurd  ;  for, 
whereas,  they  pretend  that  they,  and  they  only,  are 
bound  to  believe  that  see  the  miracles;  by  this 
means,  they  leave  God  incapable  of  convincing  the 
world  by  miracles  :  for  miracles  would  lose  their 
convincing  force,  and  be  as  no  miracles,  if  they 
were  common  to  all,  and  in  all  ages.  For  it  is  not 
so  much  the  power  that  is  manifest  in  that  work 
simply  considered,  that  proves  it  any  testimony  to 
the  doctrine,  or  that  would  convince ;  but  it  is 
the  extraordinary  application  of  omnipotency  that 
sealeth  the  truth.  It  is  a  work  of  as  great  power 
to  cause  the  sun  to  move  as  to  stand  still,  or  the 
sea  to  keep  its  course  as  to  change  it,  or  the  living 
to  continue  in  life  as  for  the  dead  to  rise,  and  to 
give  eye-sight  at  birth  or  in  the  womb,  as  to  give  it 
twenty  years  after :  but  it  would  not  have  con- 
firmed Christ's  doctrine  so  much  if  Lazarus  had 
not  died,  as  if  he  be  raised  again  ;  or  that  a  man  be 
born  with  eye.sight,  as  that  he  be  res-tored  to  it 
that  was  born  blind  ;  and  so  of  the  rest.  Now, 
the.-e  men  would  have  every  man,  in  every  country 
and  age  in  the  world,  to  see  miracles,  or  else  not  to 
be  bound  to  believe  ;  and  I  think,  on  the  same 
gound,  they  must  see  particular  miracles  for  the 
sealing  of  each  particular  truth  that  they  receive ; 
and,  then,  miracles  would  be  common,  and  so  lose 
their   force  and  be   as  none      then,  every  infidel 


would  say  ;  "This  is  a  common  thing."  If  it  were 
as  common  for  the  sun  to  stand  still  as  to  move,  or 
for  the  dead  to  be  raised  as  the  sick  to  be  healed 
or  a  child  to  be  born,  do  you  think  it  would  be  a 
fit  evidence  to  convince  these  unbelievers  of  the 
Christian  truth?  Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3553.)  The  continuance  of  miracles  from  age  to 
age  would  destroy  their  very  nature,  to  which  it  is 
essential  that  they  be  rare  and  extraordinary  ;  for 
whnt  is  ordinary  and  frequent  we  are  apt  to  ascribe 
to  the  established  laws  of  nature,  however  wonder- 
ful it  be  in  itself.  For  example,  if  we  saw  the  dead 
bodies  rise  from  their  graves  as  often  as  we  see 
vegetables  spring  from  seed  rotten  in  the  earth,  we 
should  be  no  more  surprised  at  the  one  phenomenon 
than  we  are  at  the  other,  and  our  virtuosi  would  be 
equally  busy  to  assign  some  natural  cause  for  both. 

And  had  we  never  seen  the  sun  rise  until  this 
morning,  we  should  justly  have  accounted  it  as 
great  a  miracle  as  any  recorded  in  the  Scriptures ; 
but  because  it  is  common,  we  neglect  it  as  a  thing 
of  course.  Indeed,  it  is  not  anything  in  the  event 
itself,  or  in  the  degree  of  power  necessary  for  its 
accomplishment,  that  renders  it  miraculous,  but  its 
being  uncommon,  and  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of 
things.  For  example,  the  generation  of  the  human 
body  is  not  in  itself  less  astonishing,  nor  does  it 
require  less  power,  tlian  its  resurrection  ;  the  revo- 
lution of  the  sun  in  its  regular  course  is  as  wonder- 
ful, and  as  much  requires  a  divine  power,  as  its 
standing  still  in  the  days  of  Joshua.  But  we  ac- 
knowledge a  miracle  in  one  case,  but  not  in  the 
other,  because  the  one  is  extraordinary  while  the  other 
frequently  occurs.  Hence  it  follows  that  the  fre- 
quent repetition  of  miracles,  as  often  as  men  are 
pleased  to  plead  the  want  of  evidence  to  excuse 
their  infidelity,  would  destroy  their  very  nature ; 
and  consequently,  to  demand  their  continuance  is 
to  demand  an  impossibility. 

But  suppose  that  man  should  be  indulged  in  this 
request,  it  would  not  probably  bring  them  to  be- 
lieve. If  they  are  unbelievers  now,  it  is  not  for 
want  of  evidence,  but  through  willul  blindness  and 
obstinacy  ;  and  as  they  that  will  shut  their  eyes  can 
see  no  more  in  meridian  light  than  in  the  twilight, 
so  they  that  reject  a  sufficiency  of  evidence  would 
also  resist  a  superfluity  of  it.  Thus  the  Jews,  who 
were  eye-witnesses  of  the  miracles  recorded  in  the 
Scriptures,  continued  invincible  infidels  still.  They 
had  always  some  trifling  cavil  ready  to  object  against 
the  brightest  evidence.  And  thus  our  modern  in- 
fidels would  no  doubt  evade  the  force  of  the  most 
miraculous  attestation  by  some  wretched  hypothesis 
or  other.  They  would  look  upon  miracles  either 
as  magical  productions  or  illusions  of  their  senses  ; 
or  rather,  as  natural  and  necessary  events,  which 
they  would  indeed  have  some  reason  to  conclude,  if 
they  were  frequently  perlormed  before  their  eyes. 
Some  have  pretended  to  doubt  of  the  existence  and 
perfections  of  God,  notwithstanding  the  evidences 
thereof  upon  this  magnificent  structure  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  anti  must  God  be  always  creating  new  worlds 
before  these  obstinate  creatures  for  their  conviction  ? 
Such  persons  have  as  much  reason  to  demand  it  in 
this  case  as  our  deists  have  to  insist  for  new  miracles 
in  the  other.  — JJavies,  1724-1761. 

(3554')  Let  i'  be  supposed  that  every  one  had  a 
right  to  demand  a  miracle  ;  thai  the  occurrence  of 
miracles  was  unlimited  ;  that  as  olten  as  you  had 


MIRACLES. 


(    599    ) 


MIRACLES, 


an  ache,  or  trembled  for  the  loss  of  a  relation,  you 

had  but  to  pray  and  receive  your  wish. 

Clearly  in  this  case,  first  of  all,  the  constitution 
of  the  universe  would  be  reversed.  The  will  of 
man  would  be  substituted  for  the  will  of  God. 
Caprice  and  chance  would  regulate  all.  God  would 
be  dethroned  ;  God  would  be  degraded  to  the  rank 
of  one  of  those  beings  of  supernatural  power  with 
whom  eastern  romance  abounds,  wlio  are  subordi- 
nated by  a  spell  to  the  will  of  a  mortal,  who  is 
armed  with  their  powers  and  uses  them  as  vassals. 
God  would  be  merely  the  genius  who  would  be 
chained  by  the  spell  of  prayer  to  obey  the  behests 
of  man.  Man  would  arm  himself  with  the  powers 
of  Deity,  and  God  would  be  his  slave. 

Further  still  This  unlimited  extension  of  mir- 
acles would  annihilate  miracles  themselves.  For 
sujipose  that  miracles  were  universal  ;  that  prayer 
was  directly  followed  by  a  reply  ;  that  we  could  all 
heal  the  sick  and  raise  the  dead — this,  then,  would 
become  the  common  order  of  things.  It  would  be 
what  we  now  call  nature.  It  would  cease  to  be  ex- 
traordinary, and  the  infidel  would  be  as  unsatisfied 
as  ever.  He  would  see  only  the  antecedent,  prayer, 
and  the  invariable  consequent,  a  reply  to  prayer  ; 
exactly  what  he  sees  now  in  the  process  of  causa- 
tion. And  then,  just  as  now,  he  would  say,  What 
more  do  you  want?  These  are  the  laws  of  the  uni- 
verse I  Why  interpose  the  complex  and  cumbrous 
machinery  of  a  God,  the  awkward  hypothesis  of  a 
Will,  to  account  for  laws? 

Miracles,  then,  are  necessarily  limited.  The  non- 
limitatioD  of  miracles  would  annihilate  the  miracu- 
lous. —Robertson,  1 816-1853. 

(3555.)  We  should  naturally  expect  that  miracles 
would  be  done  when  a  new  creed,  or  new  faith, 
was  to  be  introduced  into  the  world,  demanding 
the  acceptance  of  mankiad.  For  what  is  a  miracle? 
It  is  not  a  mere  freak  of  power ;  a  rare  and  extra- 
ordinary display,  like  a  rocket,  to  blaze  before  the 
senses,  and  elicit  admiration  and  astonishment, 
when  wrought  for  truth  ;  it  is  the  hand  of  omni- 
potent power,  holding  up  the  bright  light  of  an 
eternal  truth.  The  niiiacle  is  .simply  the  credential 
of  the  document.  What  the  seal  is  upon  a  lease, 
or  deed,  the  miracle  is  upon  the  Bible.  And  when 
people  say.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  have  the 
miracle  repeated  ?  we  answer,  if  you  once  place 
your  signature  and  the  impression  of  your  seal  upon 
a  deed  or  lease,  lawyers  would  not  think  ol  asking 
you  to  come  back  and  repeat  it  once  a  year,  or  once 
in  six  years,  or  twenty  years.  Once  done,  its 
significance  lasts.  So  a  miracle  once  done  as  an 
appendage  to  the  document,  is  never  exhausted. 

— Cumming. 

10.  Are  not  the  most  wonderful  works  of  God. 

(3556.)  Those  things  which  are  full  of  marvels 
for  an  investigation  deeper  than  we  can  reach, 
have  become  cheap  from  custom  in  the  eyes  of  men. 
Hence  it  comes  to  pass  that,  if  a  dead  man  be 
raised  to  life,  all  men  spring  up  in  astonishment. 
Yet  every  day  one  that  had  no  being  is  born,  and 
no  man  wonders,  though  it  is  plain  to  all,  without 
dcubt,  that  it  is  a  greater  thing  for  that  to  be 
created  which  was  without  being,  than  for  that 
winch  had  being  to  be  restored.  Because  the  dry 
rod  of  Aaron  budded,  all  men  were  in  astonish- 
ment ;  every  day  a  tree  is  produced  from  the  dry 
earth,  and  the  virtue  residing  in  dust  is  turned  into 


wood,  and  no  man  wonders.  Because  five  thou- 
sand men  were  filled  with  five  loaves,  all  men  were 
in  astonishment  that  the  food  should  iiave  multi- 
plied in  their  teeth ;  every  day  the  grains  of  seed 
that  are  stjwn  are  multiplied  in  a  fulness  of  ears, 
and  no  man  wonders.  All  men  wondered  to  see 
water  once  turned  into  wine  ;  every  day  the  earth's 
moisture  being  drawn  into  the  root  of  the  vine,  is 
turned  by  the  grape  into  wine,  and  no  man 
wonders.  Full  of  wonder  then  are  all  the  things 
which  men  never  think  to  wonder  at,  because,  as 
we  have  before  said,  they  are  by  habit  become  dull 
to  the  consideration  of  them. 

—Gregory,  545-604. 

(3557)  He  that  made  wine  on  that  day  at  the 
marriage-feast  in  those  six  water-pots  which  He 
commanded  to  be  filled  with  water,  the  same  does 
every  year  the  like  in  vines.  For,  as  what  the 
servants  put  into  the  water-pots  was  changed  into 
wine  by  the  operation  of  the  Lord,  just  so  what  the 
clouds  pour  forih  is  changed  into  wine  by  the  opera- 
tion of  the  same  Lord.  But  at  the  latter  we  do 
not  marvel,  because  it  happens  every  year ;  by 
constant  use  it  hath  lost  its  wonder. 

—Augustine,  353-429. 

(3558.)  God  has  wrought  many  miracles  and 
daily  works  ;  but  those  miracles  are  much  weakened 
in  the  sight  of  men,  because  they  are  very  usual. 
A  greater  miracle  it  is  that  God  Almighty  every 
day  feeds  all  the  world,  and  directs  the  good,  than 
that  miracle  was,  that  He  filled  five  thousand  men 
with  five  loaves:  but  men  wondered  at  this,  not 
because  it  was  a  greater  marvel,  but  because  it  was 
unusual.  Who  now  gives  fruit  to  our  fields,  and 
multiplies  the  harvest  from  a  few  grains  of  corn, 
but  He  who  multiplied  the  five  loaves?  The 
might  was  there  in  Christ's  hands,  and  the  five 
loaves  were,  as  it  were,  seed,  not  sown  in  the  earth, 
but  multiplied  by  Him  who  created  the  earth. 

— ^Ifric,  1 05 1. 

(3559.)  There  is  nothing  that  God  has  established 
in  a  constant  course  of  nature,  and  which,  there- 
fore, is  done  every  day,  but  would  seem  a  miracle, 
and  exercise  our  admiration,  if  it  were  done  but 
once  ;  nay,  the  ordinary  things  in  nature  would  be 
greater  miracles  than  the  extraordinary  which  we 
admire  most,  if  they  were  done  but  once.  The 
standing  still  of  the  sun,  for  Joshua's  use,  was  not  in 
itself  so  wonderful  a  thing,  as  that  so  vast  and  im- 
mense a  body  as  the  sun  should  run  so  many  miles 
in  a  minute.  The  motion  of  the  sun  were  a  greater 
wonder  than  the  standing  still,  if  all  were  to  begin 
again  ;  and  only  the  daily  doing  takes  off  the  ad- 
miration. — Donne,  1573-1631. 

(3560.)  Is  it  not  now  an  argument  of  omnipotency 
to  keep  all  the  strings  of  nature  in  tune ;  to  wind 
them  up  to  a  due  pitch  for  the  harmony  He  in- 
tended by  them  ;  to  keep  things  that  are  contrary 
from  that  confusion  they  would  naturally  fall  into; 
to  prevent  the  jarrings  which  would  naturally  result 
from  their  various  and  snarling  qualities  ;  to  pre- 
serve every  being  in  its  true  nature ;  to  propagate 
every  kind  of  creature ;  order  all  the  operations, 
even  the  meanest  of  them,  when  there  are  such  in- 
numerable varieties? 

But  let  us  consider,  that  this  power  of  preserving 
things  in  their  station  and  motion,  and  the  renew- 


MIRACLES. 


(    600    ) 


MORALISTS. 


ing  of  them,  is  more  stupendous,  than  that  which 
Nve  commonly  call  miraculous. 

We  call  those  miracles  which  are  wrought  out  of 
the  track  of  nature,  and  contrary  to  the  usual 
stream  and  current  of  it,  which  men  wonder  at 
because  tliey  seldom  see  them  and  hear  of  them,  as 
things  rarely  brought  forth  in  the  world  ;  when, 
the  truth  is,  there  is  more  of  power  expressed  in  the 
ordinary  station  and  motion  of  natural  causes,  than 
in  those  extraordinary  exertings  o(  power.  Is  not 
more  power  signalised  in  that  whirling  motion  of 
the  sun  every  hour  for  so  many  ages,  than  in  the 
suspending  of  its  motion  one  dav,  as  it  was  in  the 
days  of  Joshua?  That  tire  should  continually  ravage 
and  consume,  and  greedily  swallow  up  everything 
that  is  offered  to  it,  seems  to  be  the  effect  of  as 
admirable  a  power  as  the  stopping  of  its  ajipetite  a 
few  moments  as  in  the  case  ol  the  'I'hree  Children. 
Is  not  the  raising  of  some  small  seeds  from  tlie 
ground,  with  a  multiplication  of  their  numerous 
posterity,  an  effect  of  as  great  a  power  as  our 
Saviour's  feeding  many  thousands  with  a  few 
loaves  by  a  secret  augmentation  of  them  ?  Is  not 
the  chemical  producing  so  pleasant  and  delicious  a 
fruit  the  grape  from  a  dry  earth,  insipid  rain,  and  a 
sour  vine,  as  admirable  a  token  of  Divine  power  as 
our  Saviour's  turning  the  water  into  wine  ?  Is  not 
the  cure  of  diseases  by  the  application  of  a  simple 
inconsiderable  weed,  or  a  slight  infusion,  as  wonder- 
ful in  itself  as  the  cure  of  it  by  a  powerful  word? 
What  if  it  be  naturally  designed  to  heal  ;  what  is 
that  nature?  Who  gave  that  nature?  Who  main- 
tains that  nature?  Who  conducts  it,  co-operates 
with  it  ?  Does  it  work  of  itself,  and  by  its  own 
Strength  ?  Why  not  then  equally  in  all,  in  one  as  well 
as  the  other?  Miracles  indeed  affect  more,  because 
they  testify  the  immediate  operation  of  God  without 
the  concurrence  of  second  causes  ;  not  that  there  is 
more  of  the  power  of  God  shining  in  them  than  in 
the  other.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(3561.)  The  naturalist  observed  it  to  be  one  of 
the  solemn  follies  of  men,  to  value  medicines  not 
for  their  virtue,  but  the  country  vs'here  they  grow, 
the  climate  from  whence  they  come  ;  if  they  have 
a  barbarous  name,  they  are  reputed  to  have  a  mys- 
terious efficacy,  and  those  plants  are  neglected  as 
unprohtable  that  are  natives  of  their  own  soil. 
The  rarity  is  esteemed  more  than  merit  of  things. 
It  is  a  greater  wonder  to  give  light  to  the  sun,  than 
to  restore  it  to  the  blind,  yet  its  daily  presence  does 
not  affect  us.  If  a  chemist  should  extract  a  liquor 
of  such  an  extraordinary  virtue,  that  by  pouring  a 
few  drops  of  it  on  the  dust,  a  body  should  be  formed, 
animated,  and  move,  would  any  one  be  induced  to 
believe  it  without  the  testimony  of  his  own  eyes, 
and  would  it  not  be  a  surprising  wonder?  yet  in- 
numerable creatures  spring  from  the  dust  by  the 
falling  of  rain,  and  few  think  it  worthy  of  observa- 
tion. The  raising  a  dead  body  to  life  would  astonish 
us,  but  we  are  unaffected  that  every  day  so  many 
living  men  are  born.  Yet,  if  we  consider  things 
aright,  the  secret  forming  a  body  in  the  womb  is  an 
equal  prodigy  of  power,  and  as  truly  marvellous,  as 
the  restoring  the  vital  congruities  to  a  carcass,  that 
prepare  it  for  the  reception  of  the  soul. 

— Bates,  1625-1699. 

(3562.)  What  prodigies  can  Power  Divine  per- 
form 
More  grand  than  It  produces  year  by  year, 


And  all  in  sight  of  inattentive  man? 

Familiar  with  the  effect  we  slight  the  causCi 

And,  in  the  constancy  of  nature's  course, 

The  regular  return  of  genial  months, 

And  renovation  of  a  faded  world. 

See  nought  to  wonder  at.     Should  God  again, 

As  once  in  Gibeon,  interrupt  the  race 

Of  the  undeviatmg  and  punctual  sun. 

How  would  the  world  admire  !  but  speaks  it  les 

An  agency  divine,  to  make  h'.ai  know 

His  moment  when  to  sink  and  when  to  rise, 

Age  after  age,  than  to  arrest  his  course  ? 

All  we  behold  is  miracle  ;  but  seen 

So  duly,  all  is  miracle  in  vain.  — Cowpet. 


MORALISTS. 

1.  Their  excellences. 

( I.)    To  what  they  are  due. 

(3563.)  To  us  there  seems  a  wide  difTerence  be- 
tween the  judge,  with  the  robes  of  office  on  his 
back,  mind  in  his  eye,  and  dignity  in  his  mien,  ;>.nd 
that  poor,  pale,  haggard  wretch  at  the  bar,  who 
throws  stealthy  glances  around,  and  hangs  his  head 
with  shame.  Yet  the  difference  that  looks  so  great 
to  man  may  be  very  small  in  the  eyes  of  God  ;  and 
would  look  small  in  ours  if  we  knew  the  different 
upbringing  and  history  of  both.  The  judge  never 
knew  what  it  was  to  want  a  meal  ;  the  felon  often 
went  cold  and  hungry  to  bed.  The  one,  sprung  of 
wise,  kind,  reputable,  and  perhaps  pious  parents, 
was  early  trained  to  good,  and  launched,  with  all  the 
advantage  of  school  and  college,  on  an  honourable 
and  high  career  ;  while  the  other,  bred  up  a  stranger 
to  the  amenities  of  cultivated  and  Christian  society, 
had  no  such  advantages.  Born  to  misery,  his 
struggles  with  misfortune  and  evil  began  at  the 
cradle.  None  ever  took  him  by  the  hand  to  lead 
him  to  church  or  school.  A  child  of  poverty,  and 
the  offspring  of  abandoned  parents,  he  was  taught 
no  lessons  but  how  to  swear,  and  lie,  and  drink, 
and  cheat,  and  steal.  The  fact  is,  it  is  just  as  diffi- 
cult for  some  to  be  honest  as  it  is  easy  for  others. 
What  merit  has  that  judge  in  his  honesty?  None. 
He  had  no  temptation  to  be  else  than  honest.  And 
so,  I  suspect,  much  of  the  morality — of  that  un- 
blemished character  and  decent  life  in  which  many 
trust,  saying  to  some  poor  guilty  thing,  "  Stand 
aside,  1  am  holier  than  thou,"  and  pluming  them- 
selves on  this,  that  they  have  not  sinned  as  others 
have  done  —  is  due,  less  to  their  superior  virtue, 
than  to  their  more  favourable  circumstances.  Have 
they  not  sinned  as  others  have  done  ?  I  reply,  They 
have  not  been  tempted  as  others  have  been.  And 
so  the  difference  between  many  honest  men  and 
decent  women  on  the  one  hand,  and  those  on  the 
other  hand  on  whom  a  brand  of  infamy  has  boen 
burned  and  the  key  of  a  prison  turned,  may  be  just 
the  dilTerence  between  the  green  branch  on  the  tree 
and  the  white  ashes  on  the  hearth.  This  is  bathed 
in  the  dews  of  night  and  fanned  by  the  breath  of 
heaven,  while  that,  once  as  green,  has  been  thrust 
into  the  burning  fire — the  one  has  been  tried  in  a 
way  that  the  other  has  not.  — Guthrie, 

(2.)  Are  superficial, 

(3564.)  The  generality  of  men  who  pretend  to 
morality  independently  of  religion  (except  those  in 
whom  the  original  goodness  of  their  nature  gets  the 


MORALISTS. 


(    6oi     ) 


MORALISTS. 


better  of  the  badness  of  their  principles),  are  such 
as  have  studied  and  practised  the  art  of  being  easy 
and  agreeable,  without  incommoding  tliemselves, 
or  denying  tiiemselves  any  pleasure  witliin  bountls. 
The  difl'eience  between  the  vulgar  and  them  con- 
sists in  this,  that  the  former,  bice  marble  in  the 
block,  retain  a  native  niggedness  ;  whereas  the 
latter  have  an  equally  impenetrable,  but  a  more 
smooth  and  polished  liardness  of  heart. 

—Seed,  1747. 

(3.)  Are  incomplete. 

(3565.)  God  can  love  nothing  but  Himself  and 
what  He  finds  of  Himself  in  the  creature.  All 
services  without  something  of  God's  image  and 
Spirit  in  them  are  nothing.  As  the  product  of  a 
million  of  cyphers  ;  though  you  still  add  to  them, 
signifies  nothing  ;  but  add  one  figure,  an  unit,  the 
Spirit,  grace,  it  will  mal;e  the  product  to  be  many 
millions  of  high  account  with  God.  All  the  signi- 
ficancy  depends  upon  the  figure  without  wliich, 
if  absent,  the  rest  would  be  nothing.  All  moral 
perfections,  without  a  new  nature,  are  but  cyphers 
in  God's  account  :  "  Without  faith  it  is  impossible 
to  please  Him."  Grace  is  only  a  good  work.  "  He 
which  hath  begun  a  good  work  in  you,  will  perform 
it  to  the  day  of  Ciirist ;  "  intimating  that  their 
morality  and  their  natural  wisdom,  before  their 
regeneration,  were  not  good  works  in  the  sight  of 
God.  They  were  good  in  their  kind,  as  a  crab 
may  be  said  to  be  a  good  crab,  Ijut  not  a  good 
pippin.  It  is  not  good,  unless  it  be  fruit  brought 
forth  in  Christ ;  neither  is  it  ordained  as  good  to 
the  day  of  Christ,  to  appear  glorious  at  the  time  of 
His  triumph.  — Chainock,  1628-16S0. 

(3566.)  All  that  can  he  said  of  him,  all  that  he 
will  say  for  himself,  is  that  he  has  had  it  for  his 
law  to  speak  the  truth,  fulfil  his  promises,  and  deal 
fairly  by  his  fellow-men.  Still  it  is  not,  and  has 
never  been,  his  aim  or  object  to  do  what  is  right  to 
God  :  and  that,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  is  a  matter 
of  much  higher  consequence,  and  more  necessary 
to  his  real  integrity.  God  is  a  person  as  truly  as 
men  are,  more  closely  related  to  us  than  they,  a 
better  friend,  one  who  has  more  feeling  to  be  in- 
jured than  they  all,  claims  of  right  more  sacred. 
What  then  does  it  signify  that  a  man  gives  men 
their  due,  and  will  not  give  God  His?  Does  it 
give  one  a  title  to  be  called  humane,  that  he  will 
not  stick  a  fly  with  a  pin  because  of  his  tenderness, 
and  yet  will  stab,  in  bitter  grudge,  his  fellow-man  ? 
Does  it  ''tly  entitle  one  to  the  name  of  a  just  man 
that  he  is  honest  and  fair  with  men  of  one  colour, 
and  not  with  those  of  another — honest  and  fair  on 
three  days,  or  even  five  days  in  the  week,  and  not 
on  the  days  that  remain  ?  What  then  shall  we 
think  of  the  mere  commercial  integrity,  just  de- 
scribed, taken  by  itself?  Calling  it  integrity,  it  is 
still  integrity  by  halves,  and,  of  course,  without  the 
principle  ;  integrity  by  market  standards  only,  and 
not  by  any  standard  that  makes  a  real  integer  in 
duty.  Real  integrity  begins  with  the  principle, 
meaning  to  give  every  one  iiis  due  ;  to  be  right  with 
God,  as  with  men,  right  against  popularity  as  with 
it,  right  everywhere,  wholly  and  eternally  right. 

— Bushnell. 

a.  Their  lack  of  the  one  thing  needful. 

(3567.)  One  thing  thou  lackest."  Lack  of  one 
thing  may  be  the  lack  ofez'eryihuig. 

The  garden  is   beautifully  laid  out ;  the  Straight 


lines  and  the  curves  are  exact ;  the  terraces  ar« 
arranged  with  artistic  taste  ;  but  no  seed  is  sown — 
and  the  summer  says — "One  thing  thou  lackest." 

The  machinery  is  perfect :  cylinder,  piston,  valve, 
are  in  excellent  order  ;  no  flaw  is  in  the  wheel,  no 
obstruction  in  the  flue  ;  finer  engine  never  stood  on 
the  iron  way,  everything  is  there  but  steam, — and 
the  intending  traveller  says — "One  thing  thou 
lackest." 

The  watch  has  a  golden  case,  the  dial  is  exqui- 
sitely traced  and  figured,  the  hands  are  delicate 
and  vvell-fixed  ;  everything  is  there  but  the  tnain- 
sf>ri)ig ;  and  he  who  inquires  the  time  says — "One 
thing  ihou  lackest." 

Conduct  may  be  regulated  in  two  ways  ;  (i)  by 
the  hand,  (2)  by  the  heart  :  as  with  a  watch  so  with 
the  life.  The  face  of  the  watch  may  be  made  to 
represent  the  truth  by  simply  altering  the  hands,  or 
it  may  be  corrected  by  touching  the  interior  works. 
Here  is  a  young  man  who  says — What  shall  I  do  to 
make  my  watch  tell  the  hour  accurately?  He  is 
answered.  Thou  knowest  the  great  clocks  by 
which  time  is  kept  in  the  city:  he  replies,  "All 
these  have  I  observed."  He  is  then  told  to  open 
his  watch  and  correct  the  regulator.  So  is  it  with 
human  life  ;  many  seek  to  correct  it  by  the  outside; 
they  search  for  models,  they  inquire  for  footprints  ; 
but  they  neglect  the  life-spring  within,  and  conse- 
quently never  get  beyond  the  affectation  of  artili« 
cialisni,  or  the  stiffness  of  Pharisaic  conceit. 

— Joseph  Parker. 

(3568.)  Observation  is  continually  noticing  in- 
stances in  wliich  "one  thing"  seems  to  be  every- 
thing ;  it  is  so  in  common  life,  it  is  so  in  all  life. 
Here  is  a  man  listening  to  the  most  exquisite  music  ; 
peal  of  trumpet,  clash  of  cymbals,  roll  of  drum, 
sweetness  of  the  lute,  sharpness  of  the  claiionet, 
crash  of  a  hundred  brass  instruments  ;  to  him  it 
is  simply  a  tumult,  he  sees  no  idea  in  the  tempest, 
he  docs  not  rise  and  fall  with  the  swelling  rhythm 
of  the  wave  and  billow.  Why  ?  What  is  wanting  ? 
"One  thing  thou  lackest," — that  one  thing  is  an 
ear  for  music  !  Of  what  account  is  it  that  jewellery 
spaikles  on  his  fingers,  or  that  perfume  is  shed  by 
every  waive  of  his  hand,  or  that  the  finest  cloth 
covers  his  .shoulders?  The  man  is  harmofiically 
dead,  and  the  music  which  rusl  es  like  a  storm 
through  the  appreciative  soul  is  to  him  "  sound  and 
fury,  signifying  nothing. " 

Two  men  walk  by  the  same  path  ;  the  gold  of 
the  same  sunset  is  lavished  on  their  way  ;  they  look 
at  the  same  objects,  and  move  towards  the  samegoal. 
One  of  them  reaches  home  enriched  with  many 
mental  pictures  ;  the  landscape  rs  impressed  upon 
his  memory;  the  clouds  are  massed  and  coloured 
in  his  soul ;  he  is  not  a  tenant  but  a  proprietor :  his 
hand  may  be  poor,  but  his  spirit  revels  in  affluence. 
The  other  traveller  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing,  felt 
nothing  ;  his  eye  was  on  the  road,  merely  the  ser- 
vant of  his  feet,  not  the  servant  of  his  soul.  One 
thing  thou  lackest, — an  eye  for  the  beautilul.  It  is 
only  07ie  thing,  yet  everything  turns  upon  it,  an  I 
without  it  garden  and  wilderness  aie  equal  in  charm. 

These  reflections  may  serve  to  show  the  tremen- 
dous danger  of  the  fallacy,  that  if  a  man  is  right  in  the 
tnaht  he  will  be  admitted  into  heaven.  The  man  who 
had  np  ear  for  music  was  right  in  the  main  ;  he  was 
well  educated,  well  connected,  rich  and  generous,  yet 
all  this  did  not  interpret  one  passage  of  the  music  to 
his  dormant  soul.     The  man  who  saw  nothing  in 


MORALISTS, 


(  602  ; 


MORALISTS. 


tbe  landscape  was  right  in  the  main  ;  he  was  honest, 
persevering,  modest,  and  gentle,  yet  his  eye  was 
blind  to  beauty,  and  he  cared  not  for  hill  or  dale  or 
stream  or  luxuriant  wood.  So  is  it  with  regard  to 
the  higher  life  ;  we  may  have  much  and  yet  have 
nothmg.  A  man  may  walk  well  without  being  able 
to  swim  at  all,  yet  all  his  strength  as  a  pedestrian 
will  not  save  him  in  the  sea!  The  lack  of  "  one 
thing"  may  involve  ruin.  A  merchant  may  have  a 
musical  voice,  but  if  he  have  no  money  he  cannot 
maintain  his  credit ;  an  orator  may  have  great  mus- 
cular strength,  but  if  his  voice  should  fail,  what  then  ! 

Place  yourself  at  the  railway  terminus  :  a  traveller 
is  there  who  has  no  ticket  ;  is  that  of  any  conse- 
quence? It  is  only  '■'■  one  thing;"  a  very  ins:gnifi- 
tant  thing  ;  why  should  the  man  be  detained  for 
want  of  it  ?  He  has  an  address  card  ;  he  has  a 
wedding  card  ;  he  has  a  visiting  card  ;  will  they  not 
do?  No  I  "  One  thing  thou  lackest."  That  " one 
thing"  represents  law,  order,  equivalent,  authority, 
and  in  the  absence  of  that  one  particular  thing  a 
thousand  other  thmgs  go  for  nothing  ! 

Are  we  not  thus  all  through  life  continually 
reminded  that  the  absence  of  "  one  thmg  "  is  the  ruin 
of  all  ?  — Joseph  Parker. 

(3569.)  How  important  one  thing  may  be.  The 
■^ant  of  one  thing  may  make  void  the  presence 
of  all  things  else.  Lacking  its  mainspring — 
which  is  but  one  thing — a  watch  with  jewels,  wdieels, 

Cinions,  and  Ijeautifid  mechanism,  the  finest  watch 
ideed  that  was  ever  made,  is  of  no  more  use  than 
«  stone.  A  sun-dial  without  its  gnomon,  as  it  is 
called,  time's  iron  finger  that  throws  its  shadow  on 
Jbe  circling  hours — but  one  thing  also — is  as  useless 
in  broad  day  as  in  the  blackest  night.  A  ship  may 
be  built  of  the  strongest  oak,  with  masts  of  the  stout- 
est pine,  and  manned  by  the  best  officers  and  crew, 
but  1  sail  not  in  her  if  she  lacks  one  thing — that 
trembling  needle  which  a  child  running  about  the 
deck  might  fancy  a  toy  ;  on  that  plaything,  as  it 
looks,  the  safety  of  all  on  board  depends — lacking 
that,  but  one  thing,  the  ship  shall  be  their  coffin, 
and  the  deep  sea  their  grave.  It  is  thus  with  true 
piety,  with  living  faith.  That  one  thing  warning, 
the  greatest  works,  the  costliest  sacrifices,  and  the 
purest  life,  are  of  no  value  in  the  sight  oi  God — are 
null  and  void. 

Still  further,  to  impress  you  with  the  vahielessness 
of  everything  without  true  piety,  and  show  how  its 
presence  imparts  such  worth  to  a  believer's  life 
and  labours,  as  to  make  his  mites  weigh  more  than 
other  men's  millions,  and  his  cup  of  cold  water  more 
precious  than  their  cups  of  gohi — let  me  borrow  an 
illustration  from  arithmetic.  Write  down  a  line  of 
ciphers  I  You  may  add  thousands,  multiplying  them 
till  the  sheets  they  fill  cover  the  face  of  earth  and 
heaven,  they  express  nothing ;  and  are  worth  no- 
thing. Now  take  tiie  lowest  number  of  the  ten, 
the  smallest  digit ;  and  place  that  at  their  head — 
magic  never  wrought  such  a  change  !  What  before 
amounted  to  nothing  rises  instantly  by  the  addition 
of  one  figure,  one  stroke  of  the  pen,  into  thousands, 
or  millions,  as  the  case  may  b«  ;  and  whether  they 
represent  pounds  or  pearls,  how  great  is  the  sum 
of  them  !  Such  power  resides  in  true  faith — in 
genuine  piety. 

It  may  be  the  lowest  piety — but  one  degree  above 
lero  ;  it  may  be  the  love  of  ■moking  flax  ;  the  hope 
of  a  bruised  reed  ;  the  faith  of  a  mustard  seed;  the 
hesitating,  faltering  confidence  of  him  who  cried. 


"  Lord,  T  believe,  help  Thou  mine  unbelief."  Still, 
so  soon  as  it  is  inwrought  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  it 
changes  the  whole  aspect  of  a  man's  life  and  the 
whole  prospect  of  his  eternity.  It  is  that  one  im- 
portant thing,  wanting  which,  however  amiable, 
moral,  and  even  apparently  religious  we  may  be, 
our  Lord  addresses  us,  as  He  did  the  young  ruler, 
saying,  "One  thing  thou  lackest."       — Guthrie. 

(3570.)  The  dahlia  would  surely  be  a  very  empress 
among  flowers  if  it  had  but  perfume  equal  to  its 
beauty  ;  even  the  rose  might  need  to  look  to  her 
sovereignty.  Florists  have  tried  ail  their  arts  to 
scentt  his  lovely  child  of  autumn,  but  in  vain,  no  frag- 
rance can  be  developed  or  produced  ;  God  has 
denied  the  boon,  and  human  skill  cannot  impart  it. 
The  reflecting  mind  will  be  reminded  of  those  ad- 
mirable characters  which  are  occasionally  met  with, 
in  which  everything  of  good  repute  and  comely 
aspect  may  be  seen,  but  true  religion,  that  sweet 
ethereal  perfume  of  grace,  is  wanting  ;  if  they  had 
but  love  to  God,  what  lovely  beings  they  would  be, 
the  best  of  the  saints  would  not  excel  them,  and  yet 
that  fragrant  grace  they  do  not  seek,  and  after  every 
effort  we  may  make  for  their  conversion,  they  remain 
content  without  the  one  thing  which  is  needful  for 
their  perfection.  Oh  that  the  Lord  would  impart  to 
them  the  mystic  sweetness  of  His  grace  by  the  Holy 
Spirit  1  — Spurgeon. 

3.  ThelT  acts  are  vitiated  by  their  principles. 

(3571.)  According  to  the  principle  of  a  man,  such 
is  his  end  ;  if  the  barrel  of  the  musket  be  crooked, 
it  v\'ill  never  carry  the  bullet  right  ;  therefore  thy 
principle  must  especially  be  minded.  There  be 
many  things  that  move  orderly,  and  yet  their 
motion  is  not  from  a  principle  of  life  ;  as  a  mill 
moves  by  reason  of  the  water,  yet  is  no  living 
creature.  An  outward  principle  of  custom,  or 
fashion,  or  glory,  may  make  a  man  just  and  patient 
in  his  actions  ;  many  do  the  things  commanded, 
not  because  they  are  commanded,  but  upon  some 
sinister  account.  Morality  and  Christianity  differ 
specillcally  :  the  moralist  works  from  nature,  a  little 
refined  by  education  ;  the  Christian  from  nature, 
thoroughly  renewed  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  Where  this 
spring  is  wantmg,  no  motion  can  be  true  ;  be  the 
fruit  ever  so  fair  to  the  eye,  if  the  root  whence  it 
grows  be  not  good,  it  will  be  unpleasant  and  dis- 
tasteful. — Switmock,  1673. 

(3572.)  The  want  of  a  renewed  heart  is  »  hair  on 
the  moral  man's  pen,  that  blurs  and  blots  his  oopy 
when  he  writes  fairest.     His  uprightness  does  others 
more  good  in  this  world  than  himself  in  the  next. 
—  Gurnall,  iSiJ-idjg. 

(3573.)  "Whatever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God."  The  archer  may  lose  his  game  by  shooting 
short  as  well  as  shooting  wide.  The  hypocrite 
shoots  wide,  the  moralist  shoots  short,  of  the 
mark.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3574.)  It  is  a  general  principle  that  on  judging 
of  a  responsible  agent  at  any  given  time,  we  ought 
to  take  into  view  the  whole  state  of  his  mind.  We 
ought  not  to  single  out  a  particular,  or  view  it  under 
an  exclusive  aspect.  As  a  second  general  principle, 
it  must  be  taken  into  account,  that  the  mental  state 
of  the  agent  cannot  be  truly  good,  providing  he  is 
in  the  meantime  neglecting  a  known  and  manifest 


MORALISTS. 


(    603    ) 


MORALISTS. 


duty.  It  will  not  be  difficult  to  establish  this 
principle,  wljich  is  a  necessary  consequent  of  the 
iirst  ;  and  when  admitted, -the  two  include  all  men 
under  sin. 

Take  as  an  illustration,  a  boy  arrived  at  the  age  of 
responsibility,  running  away  from  his  parents  with- 
out provocation  of  any  kind.  Very  possible,  in  the 
midst  of  the  companions  whom  he  meets  with,  he 
may  be  cheerful,  kind,  and  obliging.  Present  this 
disinterested  kindness  to  the  moral  faculty,  and  it 
will  approve  it  as  something  becoming  ;  and  if 
nothing  else  is  observed,  it  may  seem  as  if  he 
merited  our  warmest  approbation.  But  present  the 
whole  complex  moral  state  of  the  boy  to  the  con- 
science, and  the  judgment  will  be  instantly  reversed. 
As  long  as  the  child  is  living  in  neglect  of  a  bounden 
duty,  the  moral  sense  refuses  to  give  a  single  mark 
of  approval  ;  all  his  kmdness  will  not  draw  a  single 
smile  of  complacency  from  the  rightly-constituted 
mind,  till  he  return  to  his  father's  house,  and  to  his 
proper  allegiance. 

Analagous  instances  will  present  themselves  to 
the  reflecting.  A  person,  let  us  suppose,  has  un- 
justly got  possession  of  a  neighbour's  property.  It 
is  conceivable  that,  having  done  so,  he  may  be 
benevolent  in  the  use  which  he  makes  of  his  wealth  ; 
his  hosintality  may  be  the  theme  of  admiration 
throughout  the  whole  neighbourhood,  and  the  praise 
of  his  charity  may  be  in  the  mnuths  of  hundreds  of 
the  destitute.  Now,  if  this  individual's  original 
dishonesty  is  not  established  on  sufficient  evidence, 
we  may  say,  in  the  judgment  of  charity,  give  him 
credit  lor  generosity  ;  but  when  the  whole  man  is 
brought  under  our  notice,  the  mind  can  give  one, 
and  but  one  judgment,  and  that  is  to  condemn  him, 
even  when  he  is  at  the  head  of  his  own  hospitable 
board,  and  scattering  his  munificence  all  around 
him. 

Or  take  the  case  of  a  Brazilian  sugar  planter 
fitting  out  a  slave  ship,  with  instructions  to  the 
crew  to  proceed  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  there  to 
seize  on  a  company  of  poor  unoffending  negroes, 
and  bring  them  as  slaves  to  his  plantation.  He 
makes  it  a  part  of  his  instructions  that  the  captives 
shall  be  treated  with  great  lenity  on  the  voyage  ; 
and  upon  their  landing,  he  does  everything  which 
kindness  and  consideration  can  prompt,  to  promote 
their  comfort.  Now,  present  the  one  side  of  this 
man's  conduct  to  the  mind — let  a  stranger  be  taken 
rapidly  over  the  plantation,  let  him  see  the  food 
proviiled  for  the  slaves,  the  comfortable  duellings 
in  which  they  reside,  and  tTie  amusements  allowed 
them,  and  there  may  be  a  sentence  of  approval 
pronounced  ;  but  present  both  sides  of  the  picture, 
and  the  sentence  will  assuredly  be  one  of  severe 
reprobation. 

A  husband  making  ample,  temporal  provision  for 
the  wile  carelessly  forsaken,  the  libertine  lavishing 
kindness  on  the  person  whom  he  has  seduced, 
and  with  whom  he  is  living  in  a  state  of  sin — these 
are  cases  in  point,  as  showing  how  the  conscience 
may  approve  of  a  moral  agent  on  his  conduct  being 
represented  only  under  one  aspect,  and  yet  disap- 
prove of  it  when  brought  fully  under  review  :  and 
ghowing,  too,  how  the  moral  faculty  cannot  approve 
of  an  agent,  even  when  doing-  an  act  good  in  itself, 
provided  he  is  in  a  oaa  moral  state,  and  living  in 
the  meanwhile  in  neglect  of  a  clear  and  bounden 
duty. 

History  presents  many  examples  of  such  a  mixture 
jf  motives.     Lilienhorm  had  been  raised  from  ob- 


scurity and  wretchedness  by  Gustavus,  king  ol 
Sweden,  promoted  to  the  rank  of  Commandant  of 
the  Guard,  and  had  the  complete  confidence  of  his 
sovereign.  But  when  a  conspirncy  was  formed 
against  his  master,  he  joined  it,  instigated  by  the 
hope  held  out  to  him  of  commanding  the  National 
Guard,  and  holding  in  his  hand  the  destinies  of  the 
kingdom.  Meanwhile  he  endeavoured,  by  a  kind 
of  compromise,  to  keep  his  allegiance  to  the  king 
his  benefactor.  He  wrote  him  an  anonymous  letter, 
informing  him  of  an  unsuccessful  attempt  that  had 
been  matie  to  lake  his  life  some  time  before,  de- 
scribing the  plan  which  the  conspirators  had  now 
formed,  and  warning  him  against  going  to  a  par- 
ticular ball,  where  the  assassination  vas  to  be  com- 
mitted. In  this  way  he  sought  to  satisfy  his  con- 
science, when  it  threw  out  doubts  as  to  the  propriety 
of  the  course  which  he  was  pursuing.  He  spent 
the  evening  on  which  the  conspiracy  was  to  take 
effect  in  the  king's  apartment,  saw  him  read  the 
anonymous  letter  sent  him,  and  upon  the  generous, 
headstrong  king  despising  the  warning,  followed 
him  to  the  ball,  and  was  present  when  he  was  shot. 

Now,  take  us  to  the  closet  of  this  man,  and  let 
us  see  him  writing  the  letter  which  was  fitted  to  save 
his  sovereign — show  us  this  and  no  more,  and  we  say. 
How  becoming  !  how  generous  !  but  let  us  follow 
him  through  the  whole  scene,  and  we  change  our 
tone,  and  arraign  him  of  treachery  ;  and  we  do  so 
at  the  very  instant  when  he  writes  the  letter,  and 
seems  most  magnanimous. 

By  the  help  of  those  principles  we  are  enabled  to 
bring  home  the  sense  of  guUt  to  every  man's  con. 
science  ;  not  only  the  sense  of  individual  sins,  but 
of  constant  and  abiiling  sinfulness.  When  there  is 
not  a  sin  of  commission,  there  is  a  sin  of  omission  ; 
when  there  is  not  the  sin  of  excess,  there  is  the  sin 
of  defect. 

In  particular,  we  hold  that  every  human  soul  is 
chargeable  with  ungodliness.  Other  sins  are  com- 
mitted by  individual  men,  some  are  adcbcted  to  one 
class  of  sins,  and  others  to  another  ;  but  this  offence 
seems  to  be  universal.  All  are  not  malevolent  or 
selfish  ;  all  are  not  intemperate  or  deceitful ;  all  are 
not  proud  and  ambiticyjs;  but  all  seem  to  be  ungodly. 
Other  sins  may  be  only  occasional,  but  this  seems 
to  be  perpetual  and  abiding,  and  renders  all  men 
guilty  at  all  times,  even  when  they  are  cherishing 
thoughts  and  feelings  which  in  themselves  are 
praiseworthy.  Does  any  man  stand  up  and  say,  I 
was  in  a  virtuous  state  at  such  and  such  a  time, 
when  I  was  defending  the  helpless  and  relieving  the 
destitute?  We  admit  at  once  that  these  actions  in 
themselves  are  becoming,  as  becoming  as  those  of 
the  disobedient  son  showing  kindness  to  his  com- 
panions ;  of  the  unjust  man  practising  hospitality  ; 
of  the  slaveholder  sujjplying  his  slaves  with  excellent 
food  ;  of  the  husband  providing  handsomely  for  a 
wife  abandoned  ;  or  of  the  conspirator  sending  a 
notice  fitted  to  frustrate  the  conspiracy  to  which  he 
was  a  party.  If  we  could  judge  these  acts  apart 
from  the  agent,  we  should  unhesitatingly  approve 
of  them.  Nay,  we  do  approve  of  the  abstract  acts, 
but  we  never  for  one  instant  approve  of  the  agent. 
Before  we  can  approve  of  the  disobedient  son,  but 
kind  companion>  he  must  return  to  his  obedience ; 
of  the  unjust  philanthropist,  he  must  restore  the 
fruits  of  his  iniquity  ;  of  the  liberal  slaveholder,  he 
must  undo  his  deed  ;  of  the  unfaithful  husband  in 
his  kindness,  he  must  return  to  the  society  of  his 
wife ;    of  the  notice  sent  by  the  conspirator,   be 


MORALISTS. 


(    604    ) 


MORALISTS. 


must  first  disconnect  himself  entirely  and  openly 
froin  the  conspiracy  ; — and,  in  like  manner,  before 
we  can  thoroughly  approve  of  man,  even  in  his 
generosity,  we  must  find  hiui  returning  to  his  allegi- 
ance to  God,  making  confession  of  his  past  sin, 
humbling  himseil  before  Him  whom  he  has  offended, 
and  acknowledging  that  the  very  gifts  which  he  is 
about  to  bestow,  come  from  God,  the  author  of  all 
blessings. 

As  godliness  is  a  constant  duty,  so  ungodliness, 
habitually  cherished,  is  a  great  master  sin,  reaching 
over  the  whole  man,  contaminating  the  service  he 
pays,  however  proper  it  may  be  in  itself.  Does  it 
not  look  as  if  an  ungodly  man  couUl  not  do  a  truly 
virtuous  act?  Does  it  not  look  as  if  a  man  must 
first  be  made  godly  before  he  can  do  an  act  truly 
good?  "Either  make  the  tree  good,  and  his  fruit 
good  ;  or  else  make  the  tree  corrupt,  and  his  fruit 
corrupt."  — APCosh. 

{3575.)  When  a  man  says  to  me,  "  When  I  saw 
that  mother  weeping,  and  her  house  burning,  and 
when  I  rushed  into  the  flames,  and  at  the  peril  of 
my  own  life  saved  and  restored  to  her  her  child,  am 
I  to  be  told  that  that  was  not  a  good  action— that 
it  was  a  sin  in  the  sight  of  God  ?  " 

Not  by  iTie,  friend,  not  by  me.  That  was  a  good 
a  tion.  It  was  a  hint  of  what  there  is  planted  in 
your  nature  by  God  ;  and  it  shows  your  guilt  in  not 
coming  to  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  that  all  such 
things  within  you  may  be  warmed  into  a  continual 
life.  A  man  who  is  capable  of  such  generous  acts 
ought  to  be  ashamed  not  to  be  what  the  love  of  God 
would  make  him.  And  if  he  will  not  love  God, 
and  be  made  into  His  image,  he  needs  no  other  con- 
demnation. It  is  not  by  the  fits  and  starts  of  your 
conduct  that  you  are  to  be  judged,  but  by  its  whole 
course.  And  if  the  centre  and  ruling  principle  of 
your  life  be  not  love  to  God,  you  are  radically  and 
fatally  wrong. 

When  we  tell  you  that  you  are  without  God,  you 
run  and  gather  up  all  your  occasional  emotions  of 
gratitude  towards  Him,  and  of  admiration  for  Ilim, 
and  heaping  them  together  before  us,  say,  "  What ! 
/  without  God  !  "  Now,  yoy  may  leel  admiration, 
even  very  warm  admiration,  for  God — every  refined 
and  thoughtful  mind  must ;  and  perhaps,  when  you 
are  on  the  summit  of  your  joys,  just  as  you  cross  the 
highest  line,  you  look  of}',  and  say,  "  Thank  God  ! 
thank  God  ! "  it  may  be  very  heartily  ;  but  does 
your  gratitude  and  love  for  llim  go  down  beneath 
thought  and  feeling,  and  take  hold  upon  the  secret 
springs  of  your  soul?  Is  your  life  directed,  ruled, 
and  formed  by  that  love  ?  Can  you  look  upward 
and  say,  with  glowing  breast,  "  Father,  Abba, 
Father  ! "  If  not,  your  love  i?  but  the  starlight, 
and  the  moonlight,  when  it  should  be  the  light  of 
the  fervid  sun.  Why,  when  the  sun  shines  with  long, 
slant  ray  on  GreenJand,  what  lives  or  thrives 
beneath  its  power?  But  when  he  pours  down 
straight  from  his  meridian,  there  springs  up  life  and 
luxuriant  growth.  Such  love  as  you  speak  of  is  the 
slant  beam  of  the  winter  sun,  or  like  the  shining  of 
moonbeams  on  Nova  Zembla.  You  cannot  go  to 
heaven  with  that  love.  You  must  be  born  again. 
Your  course  must  be  changed. 

Suppose  a  shipmaster  starts  from  New  York  har- 
bour for  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  He  goes  beauti- 
fully out  of  the  harbour,  and  steers  straight  for 
Greenland.  Off  Newfoundland  he  is  hailed  by 
another  sai;.    His  destination  is  inquired,  and  given. 


"  Bound  for  Malta  !  "  shouts  the  stranger.  '*  Yon  ? 
Why,  you're  steering  for  the  North  Pole." 

"  Don't  tell  me  that"  returns  our  captain,  very 
much  offended — "don't  tell  me  that.  My  ship  is 
good,  and  well  stored  ;  my  men  are  good,  and  they 
find  me  the  most  generous  of  captains.  They  have 
long  sleeping  hours,  and  short  watches  ;  they  have 
abundance  of  all  that  is  good  for  food.  In  my  cabin 
are  plenty  of  books  and  flowers,  and  we  have  fme 
times  down  there.  We  enjoy  ourselves  very  much  in- 
deed— don't  tell  me  that  all  this  time  we  are  on  our 
way  to  any  place  but  Malta  ;  I  don't  believe  it." 

'I'he  stranger  passes  on,  saying  derisively  —  "I 
don't  care  how  good  you  are  to  your  men,  or  how 
many  good  books  or  beautiful  flowers  you  have  got 
below  ;  all  this  is  very  fine,  no  doubt ;  but  I  >ay 
that  the  man  that's  going  to  Malta,  and  heading 
direct  for  the  North  Pole,  is  a  fool."  And  so  he 
is ;  all  his  flowers  won't  save  him.  His  course 
must  be  changed  ;  and  it's  just  so  about  the  sinner. 
He's  heading  lor  hell ;  and  all  the  flowers,  and  all 
the  good  things  that  are  in  him,  won't  save  him,  if 
he  don't  turn  short  about.  He  is  living  for  self, 
when  he  should  be  living  for  God.  Self  is  his  idol, 
when  he  should  worship  God.  He  is  all  wrong, 
wrong,  and  will  certainly  be  lost  if  he  doesn't  come 
to  Jesus  for  help,  safety,  and  grace  to  fit  him  for 
heaven.  — Beecher. 

4,  The  dlfaculty  of  their  task, 

(357^-)  The  moralist  says,  "It  has  co^^t  roe 
severe  labour  to  be  as  good  as  I  am  ;  how  shall  I 
ever  be  able  to  do  greater  things  than  these?" 
Friend,  there  is  a  rock  which  on  one  side  is  sup. 
porled  by  the  solid  earth,  on  another  side  by  other 
rocks,  on  a  third  by  trees,  but  upon  the  fourth  side 
it  has  no  support,  and  it  requires  there  but  a  fev/ 
pounds'  weight  to  tip  it  downward. 

Now  you  may  go  and  destroy  yourself  in  efforts 
to  remove  that  rock,  and  only  imbed  it  deeper  in 
the  earth,  or  fasten  it  more  firmly  in  the  trees  or 
among  other  rocks  ;  but,  push  it  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  it  is  no  longer  there.  I  tell  you  it  would 
not  be  half  so  hard  to  be  a  great  deal  better  Chris- 
tian, than  to  be  the  moralist  you  are.  You  are  all 
the  time  pushing  the  rock  the  wrong  way.  Do 
you  say,  "  Well,  it  is  the  most  earnest  desire  of  my 
life  to  become  a  Christian.  What  lack  I  yet? 
What  is  in  the  way?"  I  cannot  tell  —  1  might  tell, 
in  particular  cases,  but  not  generally.  But,  'tis  a 
quesiion  that  each  one  can  answer  for  himself,  if 
he  is  sincere  in  wishing  to  know. 

God  will  answer  all  prayer  for  help  in  such  cases, 
when  it  is  patiently  and  honestly  continued. 

— Beecher. 

(3577.)  Morality  is  to  love  what  a  candle  is  to 
the  sun.  A  man  wishes  to  explore  a  great  house  in 
the  night.  He  takes  a  candle,  and,  scraping  a 
match,  sets  fire  to  it ;  and  with  this  flickering  light, 
which  is  so  feeble  that  his  own  steps  almost  put  it 
out,  and  which  only  serves  to  dispel  the  darkness 
for  a  short  distance  before  him,  while  it  closes  in 
just  behind  him,  opening  and  shutting  almost  at  the 
same  moment,  — with  this  light,  he  gropes  about 
his  dwelling ;  and,  since  it  does  little  besides 
rendering  the  darkness  more  apparent,  he  makes 
his  explorations  with  difficulty.  But  let  him  wait 
till  the  sun  appears  in  the  morning,  and  pours 
down  its  rays  so  that  each  crack  and  crevice  of  the 
building  is  suffused  with  the  light  of  day,  which 


MORALISTS. 


(    605    ) 


MORALISTS. 


flows  in  at  every  open  door  and  unbarred  window, 
and  then  he  will  need  no  candle,  and  can  walk 
without  obstruction  througli  tlie  darkest  passages, 
and  all  will  be  revealed  to  him.  For  a  man  to 
tai<e  his  own  reason,  and  his  own  conscious  vir- 
tues, and  attempt  to  live  according  to  them,  is  like 
a  man  attempting  to  enlighten  his  way  through  his 
dwelling  in  the  night  with  a  lamp  ;  but  for  a  man 
to  live  in  the  conscious  presence  of  God,  and  to 
look  to  Ilim  for  guidance,  is  as  if  a  man  found  his 
way  through  his  dwelling  at  mid-day,  when  it  is 
illuminated,  in  every  part  by  the  glorious  light  of 
the  sun.  — Beecher. 

(3578.)  I  understand  morality  to  be,  in  its  best 
statement,  a  system  of  conduct  drawn  from  rules 
revealed  to  us  in  nature  ;  and  as  such,  it  must  be 
included  in  every  true  religion.  But  a  life  or 
character  that  is  built  up  by  studying  and  practising 
the  best  ethical  rules  tiiat  nature  can  give  is  defi- 
cient in  the  same  way  that  a  picture  is  that  is  per- 
fectly painted  and  imperfectly  lighted.  What  is  a 
picture  in  a  dark  room  good  for?  What  are  noble 
decorations  in  a  house  worth,  if  there  is  no  light  to 
reveal  them  ?  Nowhere — not  in  the  store  ;  not  in 
the  bank  ;  not  in  the  street  ;  not  even  in  the  privacy 
and  puiity  of  the  household — is  morality  more 
esteemed,  and  regarded  as  more  essential,  than  in 
the  teaching  of  the  New  Testament ;  but  the  New 
Testament  teaches  something  beyond  morality — as 
much  beyond  it  as  the  blossom  is  beyond  the  leaf — 
namely,  the  soul's  vital  connection  with  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  Is  there  anything  better  than 
that? 

Here  is  a  young  man  that  has  been  led  away  to 
intemperance,  to  impurity,  to  dishonesty,  to  gam- 
bling ;  and,  returning  sick,  and  weaiy,  and  pained 
unto  death  in  his  own  melancholy  thoughts,  to  his 
native  village,  he  begins  to  find  the  springs  of  life 
filling  again,  and  tlie  long  days  and  nights  begin  to 
grow  shorter  ;  and,  as  the  spring  dawns,  he  begins, 
in  the  hope  of  a  new  summer  and  a  new  life,  to 
make  resolutions;  and  he  says,  "Now,  I  will  not 
sill  against  the  laws  of  health  any  more.  I  have 
been  throwing  away  my  life,  and  it  is  not  wise." 
He  resolves  that,  fur  the  sake  of  being  healthy  in 
his  body,  he  will  refrain  from  going  into  those  dis- 
sipations to  which  he  has  been  addicted.  And  he 
says,  "  I  see  that  a  virtuous  course  in  society  is  the 
best ;  I  see  that  in  the  long  run  it  is  wise  to  give  an 
equivalent  for  what  you  receive,  and  I  am  deter- 
mined that  henceforth  I  will  live  an  industrious  life 
and  eschew  ganil^iuig  ;  I  see  that  it  is  better  for  my 
health  that  I  should  be  temperate  in  my  diet  and 
drink,  and  for  th;ii's  sake  I  will  live  temperately." 
/\nd  so  he  does,  till  June  comes  in,  when,  in  one  of 
those  chance* — for  so  we  call  providences — which 
soaneiimes  befall  mes.  he  is  brought  under  the 
influence  of  a  pure  and  noble  nature,  a  woman, 
whose  smile  is  to  him  more  than  a  star  in  a  stormy 
night  to  the  bewildered  mariner.  And  with  much 
lear  and  trembling,  carried  through  weeks  and 
months,  sure,  at  last,  of  her  sympathy  and  her 
dawning  affection,  he  says,  "  I  cannot  take  it  I  1 
cannot  lake  it  !  She  does  not  know  whom  she 
loves."  And  in  an  agony  of  honesty,  some  even- 
ing, he  pours  out  the  whole  history  of  his  life,  and 
says,  "  Mary,  now  disown  the  words  you  spoke  ;  " 
and  she,  with  ineffable  beauty  and  tenderness,  says, 
"If  it  please  God  to  give  you  to  me,  then  let  me 
lead  you  higher  than  that  temptation  shall  ever  take 


you  again."  And  from  that  hour  he  and  she  are 
one. 

Now,  the  question  that  I  want  to  put  to  you  is 
this:  Will  this  man,  in  the  life  that  he  is  going  to 
live,  think  any  more  of  natural  laws,  of  the  prudence 
of  being  honest,  or  of  the  benefits  of  living  temper- 
ately? Will  he  not  say,  "I  want  no  other  motive 
than  this  ;  she  fills  my  life,  and  for  her  sake  I  will 
be  honourable,  and  true,  and  right?"  Is  not  that 
one  motive  of  love  so  potential,  and  so  inclusive  of 
all  other  motives,  that  it  lilts  him  above  these 
lower  considerations  ? 

Now,  let  a  man  attempt  to  live  a  life  of  mor- 
ality. 

It  is  good  enough,  but  it  is  hard  and  drudging 
work.  It  is  good  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  there  is  a 
life  of  love,  when  the  bright  vision  of  Christ  dawns 
on  the  sou!  :  when  the  Spirit  of  God  says,  "Thou 
art  His,  and  He  is  thine  ;  "  when  the  soul  wakes 
to  the  conviction,  "  Christ  loves  me  ;  and  the  life 
that  I  live  in  the  flesh  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son 
of  God,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for  me." 
Morality  is  good  :  but  it  is  the  lowest  and  poorest 
form  ol  that  which  you  can  get  in  a  higher  and 
better  form. 

And  when  I  preach  thus,  let  no  man  say  that  I 
am  undervaluing  morality.  I  want  to  take  that  as 
v;ell  as  all  that  there  is  above  it  ;  but  it  can  be 
made  easier  than  by  any  other  means,  by  the  tran- 
scendent power  of  Christ,  "formed  in  you  the  hope 

0  f  g  1  o  ry . "  — Beecker. 

(3579.)  Look  at  that  stately  ship.  What  a  mighty 
hull  she  has — three  hundred  feet  long;  her  masts  a 
hundred  feet  high.  How  well  set  is  her  rigging, 
how  clearly  defined  her  spars.  We  may  see  her 
distinctly,  but  not  all.  Away  down  under  the 
water,  hiding  at  the  ship's  siein,  there  is  a  little 
plank  that  is  of  more  importance  than  all  that  so 
proudly  towers  on  the  breast  of  the  billows. 

Neither  hull,  nor  decks,  nor  mainmast,  nor 
mizzen-mast,  nor  bowsprit,  nor  yards,  nor  sails, 
would  be  of  any  use  without  that  plank  down  under 
water.  Supjiose  that  some  person,  ignorant  of 
this  fact,  should  attempt  to  guide  that  ship's  course. 
He  would  say,  in  despair,  after  wearing  himself 
out  with  fruitless  efforts,  "  What  does  ail  this  ship? 

1  have  pulled  at  her  bows ;  I  have  furled  and 
unfurled  her  sails  ;  I  have  tugged  at  every  rope  in 
her,  but  she  will  not  keep  iier  course.  I  cannot 
manage  her.  She  will  do  nothing  right.  What 
can  it  mean  ?" 

Now,  suppose  an  old  salt  should  say,  "  Have 
you  tried  the  wheel?" 

"  Wheel?"  says  the  man,  "what  wheel?  No; 
I've  tried  no  wheel." 

"Lay  hold  here,  my  he.irty,"  cries  the  sailor. 
The  landsman  grasps  the  wheel,  and  the  little  plank 
below  turns  two  inches,  and  the  shi]i,  though  she 
be  ten  times  as  large,  and  ten  times  as  heavily 
laden,  moves  submissively  round  to  the  strength  of 
one  man's  hand. 

Now  you  may  tug  at  your  topmasts,  or  toil  at 
your  bows,  and  you  will  die  with  your  course  all 
wrong.  You  never  will  he.ad  for  the  safe  harbour 
till  you  take  your  stand  at  the  wheel. 

Men  who  neglect  Christ,  and  try  to  win  heaven 
through  moralities,  are  like  sailors  at  sea  in  a 
storm,  who  pull,  some  at  the  bowsprit  and  some  at 
the  mainmast,  but  never  touch  the  helm. 

— Beecher. 


MORALISTS. 


(    606    ) 


MORALISTS. 


&  Their  weakness  In  temptation. 

(3580.)  They  who  delight  in  virtue,  ju»t  as  they 
do  in  a  fine  piece  of  painting  or  statuary,  for  its 
beauty,  would  part  with  it,  if  reduced  to  poverty, 
just  as  they  v\ould  do  witli  a  fine  piece  of  painting, 
to  purcliase  the  substantial  conveniences  of  life. 
Tlie  principles  of  leligicm  will  support  virtue  and 
us,  and  be,  like  God,  a  "present  help  in  trouble  ;  " 
but  all  otlier  principles,  however  entertaining  at 
other  limes,  will,  like  false  friends,  forsake  us  when 
we  have  most  need  of  them,  in  the  day  of  adversity. 

—Seed,  1747. 

8.  Repentance  toward  God  their  first  duty. 

(J581.)  A  ship's  company  rise  against  their  officers, 
put  them  in  chains,  and  take  the  command  of  the 
ship  upon  themselves.  They  agree  to  set  the 
officers  ashore  on  some  uninhabited  island,  to  sail 
to  some  distant  port,  dispose  of  the  cargo,  and 
divide  the  amount.  After  parting  with  their  officers, 
they  find  it  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  self-preserva- 
tion, to  establish  some  kind  of  laws  and  order.  To 
these  they  adhere  with  punctuality,  act  upon  honour 
with  respect  to  each  other,  and  propose  to  be  very 
impartial  in  the  distribution  of  their  plunder.  But 
while  they  are  on  liieir  voyage,  one  of  the  company 
relents  and  becomes  very  unhappy.  They  inquire 
the  reason.  He  answers,  "  We  are  engaged  in  a 
wicked  cause  !  "  They  plead  their  justice,  honour, 
and  generosity  to  each  other.  He  denies  that 
there  is  any  virtue  in  it.  "  Nay,  all  our  equity, 
while  it  is  exercised  in  pursuit  of  a  scheme  which 
violates  the  great  law  of  justice,  is  in  itself  a  species 
of  iniquity. " 

"  Vou  talk  extravagantly,  surely  we  might  be 
worse  than  we  are,  if  we  were  to  destroy  each  other 
as  well  as  our  officers." 

"Yes,  wickedness  admits  of  degrees  ;  but  there 
is  no  virtue  of  goodness  in  all  our  doings  ;  all  has 
risen  from  selfish  motives.  The  same  principles 
which  led  us  to  discard  our  officers  would  lead  us, 
if  it  were  not  for  our  own  sake,  to  destroy  each 
other." 

"  But  you  speak  so  very  discouragingly ;  you 
destroy  all  motives  to  good  order  in  the  ship  ;  what 
would  you  have  us  do?" 

"  Repent,  return  to  our  injured  officers  and 
owners,  and  submit  to  mercy." 

"Oh,  but  this  we  cannot  do  :  advise  us  to  any- 
thing which  concerns  the  good  order  of  the  ship, 
and  we  will  hearken  to  you." 

"  I  cannot  bear  to  advise  in  these  matters! 
Return,  return,  and  submit  to  mercy  !  " 

Such  would  bif  the  lani^uage  of  a  true  penitent 
in  this  case  ;  and  such  should  l)e  the  language  of  a 
Christian  minister  to  sinners  who  have  cast  ofi  the 
government  of  God.  — FitlUr,  1754-1815. 

7.  Their  need  of  salvation. 

(35S2. )  When  there  is  an  estrangement  of  the  soul 
from  the  Spirit  of  God  and  Christ,  sanctifying,  and 
comforting,  and  cheering  it,  then  there  is  a  death  of 
the  soul.  The  soul  can  no  more  act  anything  that 
is  savingly  and  holily  good,  than  the  body  can  be 
without  the  soul.  And  as  the  body  without  the 
soul  is  a  noisome,  odious  carcass,  olTensive  in  the 
eyes  of  its  dearest  friends,  so  the  soul,  without  the 
Spirit  of  Christ  quickening  and  seasoning  it,  and 
putting  a  comeliness  and  beauty  upon  it,  is  odious. 
All  the  cluthes  and  flowers  you  put  on  a  dead  body 
Cannot   make  it   but  a  stinking  carcass;  so  all  the 


moral  virtues,  and  all  the  honours  in  this  world,  pot 
upon  a  man  out  of  Christ,  it  makes  him  not  a  spirit- 
ual living  soul  ;  he  is  but  a  loathsome  carrion,  a 
dead  carcass,  in  the  sight  of  God  and  of  all  that 
have  the  Spirit  of  God.  For  he  is  under  death. 
He  is  stark  and  stiff,  unable  to  stir  or  move  to  any 
duty  whatsoever.  He  has  no  sense  nor  motion. 
Though  such  men  live  a  common  natural  civil 
life,  and  walk  up  and  down,  yet  they  are  dead  men 
to  God  and  to  a  better  life.  The  world  is  full  of 
dead  men,  that  are  dead  while  they  are  alive,  ai 
St.  Paul  speaks  of  the  "widow  that  lives  in  plea- 
sures" (i  '1  imothy  v,  6).  A  fearful  estate,  if  we  had 
spiritual  eyes  to  see  it  and  think  of  it. 

— Siblies,  1 577-1635. 

(35^3-)  Thou  art  not,  proud  man,  so  fair  for 
heaven  as  thou  flatterest  thyself  A  man  upon  the 
top  of  one  hill  may  seem  very  nigh  to  the  top  of 
another,  and  yet  can  never  come  there,  except  he 
comes  down  irom  that  where  he  is.  The  mount  of 
thy  civil  righteousness  and  moral  uprightness  (on 
which  thou  standest  so  confidently),  seems,  perhaps, 
level  in  thy  proud  eye  to  God's  holy  hill  in  heaven, 
yea,  so  nigh,  that  thou  thinkest  to  step  over  from 
one  to  the  other  with  ease.  But  let  me  tell  thee, 
it  is  too  great  a  stride  for  thee  to  take  ;  thy  safer 
way  and  nearer  were  to  come  down  from  thy 
mountain  of  self-confidence  (where  Satan  hath  set 
thee  on  a  design  to  break  thy  neck),  and  to  go  the 
ordinary  road,  in  which  all  that  ever  got  heaven 
went  ;  and  that  is  by  labouring  to  get  an  interest 
in  Christ  and  His  righteousness,  which  is  provided 
on  purpose  for  the  creature  to  wrap  up  his  naked 
soul  in,  and  to  place  his  faith  on  ;  and  thus  thy 
uprightness  (which  before  was  but  of  the  same  form 
with  the  heathen's  moral  honesty)  may  commence, 
or  raiher  be  baptized  Christian,  and  become  evan- 
gelical grace.  — Guntall,  161 7-1679. 

(3584.)  Dost  not  thou  think  that  thou  needest 
Christ  as  much  as  any  other  ?  There  is  a  generation 
of  men  in  the  world,  would  almost  make  one  think 
this  was  their  judgment  ;  who,  because  their  cor- 
ruptions have  not  (by  breaking  out  into  plague-sores 
of  profaneness)  left  such  a  brand  of  ignominy  Ufion 
their  name,  as  some  others  lie  untler,  but  their 
conversations  have  been  strewed  with  some  flowers 
of  morality,  whereby  their  names  have  kept  sweet 
among  their  neighbuurs,  therefore  they  do  not  at 
all  listen  to  the  otters  of  Christ,  neither  do  their 
consciences  much  check  them  lor  this  neglect.  And 
why  so?  surely,  it  is  not  because  they  are  more 
willing  to  go  to  hell  than  others,  for  they  do  that  to 
escape  it,  which  many  others  will  not  ;  but  be- 
cause they  think  the  way  they  are  in  will  bring 
them  in  good  time  to  heaven,  without  any  more 
ado.  Poor  deluded  creatures  !  Is  Christ,  then,  sent 
to  help  only  some  more  debauched  sinners  to 
heaven,  such  as  drunkards,  swearers,  and  of  that 
rank?  And  are  civil,  moral  men  left  to  walk 
thither  on  their  own  legs?  1  am  sure,  if  the  Word 
may  be  believed,  we  have  the  case  resolved  clear 
enough  ;  that  tells  but  of  one  way  to  heaven  for  all 
that  mean  to  come  iheie.  As  there  is  but  one  God, 
so  but  one  Mediator  between  Ciod  and  man,  the 
Man  Christ  Jesus  ;  and  if  but  one  bridge  over  the 
gulf,  judge  v\  hat  is  like  to  become  of  the  civil  right- 
eous man  (for  all  his  sweet  scented  life)  il  he  miss 
this  one  bridge,  and  goes  on  in  the  road  he  hath  set 
out  in  for  heaven.     Oli  remember,  proud  man,  who 


MORALISTS. 


(    607     ) 


MORALISTS. 


thou  art,  and  cease  thy  vain  attempt.  Art  not  thou 
of  Adam's  seed  ?  hast  thou  not  traitor's  Mood  in 
thy  veins?  If  "every  mouth  be  stopped"  (Rom. 
iii.  19,  20)  how  darest  thou  open  thine?  If  "all 
the  world  becoms  guilty  before  God,  that  by  the 
deeds  of  the  law,  no  flesh  can  be  justified  in  His 
sight ;  "  where  then  shall  thou  stand  to  plead  thy 
innocency  before  Him  who  sees  thy  black  skin 
under  thy  white  feathers,  thy  foul  heart  through  thy 
fair  carriage?  It  is  faith  on  Christ  that  alone  can 
purify  thy  heart,  without  which  thy  washed  face 
and  hands  (external  righteousness,  I  mean)  will 
never  commend  thee  to  God.  And  therefore  thou 
art  under  a  horrible  delusion,  if  thou  dost  not  think 
that  thou  needest  Christ,  and  a  faith  to  interest  thee 
in  Him  as  much  as  the  bloodiest  murderer,  or 
filthiest  Sodomite  in  the  world.  If  a  company  of 
men  and  children  in  a  journey  were  to  wade 
through  some  brook,  not  beyond  a  man's  depth,  the 
men  would  have  the  atlvantage  of  the  children  ;  but 
if  to  cross  the  sea,  the  men  woulti  need  a  ship  to 
waft  them  over,  as  well  as  the  children  :  and  they 
might  well  pass  for  madmen,  if  they  should  think 
to  wade  through,  without  the  help  of  a  ship,  that 
is  offered  them  as  well  as  the  other,  because  tliey 
are  a  little  taller  than  the  rest  are  ;  such  a  foolish 
desperate  adventure  wouldst  thou  give  for  thy  soul, 
if  thou  shouldst  think  to  make  thy  way  through  the 
justice  of  God  to  heaven  without  shipping  thyself 
by  faith  in  Christ,  because  thou  art  not  so  bad  in 
thy  external  conversation  as  others. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3585.)  In  all  works  before  grace  there  is  no  re- 
rignaiion  of  the  soul  to  God  in  obedience  ;  no  self- 
denial  of  what  stands  in  opposition  to  God  in  the 
heart  ;  no  clear  view  of  tlie  evil  of  sin  ;  no  sound 
humiliation  under  the  corruption  of  nature  ;  no  in- 
ward purification  of  the  heart,  but  only  a  diligence 
in  an  external  polishing.  All  those  acts  cannot 
produce  a  habit  of  a  different  kind  from  them.  Let 
a  man  be  stilled  up  with  the  highest  natural  excel- 
lency ;  let  him  be  taller  by  the  head  and  shoulders 
than  all  his  neighbours  in  morality,  those  no  more 
confer  life  upon  him.  than  in  the  setting  a  statue 
ujjon  a  high  pinnacle  near  the  beams  of  the  sun,  in- 
spirtrth  it  with  a  principle  of  motion.  The  increas- 
ing the  [perfection  of  one  species  can  never  mount 
the  thing  so  increased  to  the  perfection  of  another 
species.  If  you  could  increase  mere  moral  works 
to  the  highest  pitch  they  are  capable  of,  they  can 
never  make  you  gracious,  because  grace  is  another 
species,  and  the  nature  of  them  must  be  changed  to 
make  them  of  another  kind.  All  tiie  moral  actions 
in  the  world  will  never  make  our  hearts,  of  them- 
selves, of  another  kind  than  moral.  Works  make 
not  the  heart  good,  but  a  good  heart  makes  the 
works  good.  — Charnock,   162S-1680. 

(35S6. )  The  human  graces  and  virtues  may  bring 
a  nian  at  times  close  to  the  boundary  of  the  king- 
dom, but  Iheie  is  still  a  limit  between  which  is  of 
vast  importance  in  the  inner  life,  and  which  shows 
itself  more  openly  as  time  advances.  It  is  as  if  a 
man  were  standing  on  the  shore,  close  to  where  a 
ship  is  moored.  Ihere  is  but  a  line  between,  and 
a  step  may  cross  it.  Hut  the  one  is  fixed,  the  other 
moves,  and  all  the  future  of  existence  depends  on 
that  step, — new  lands,  a  new  life,  and  God's  great 
wide  world.  In  tl«e  spiritual  s[)here,  to  stand  still 
is  to  fall  a»-ay,  to  be  lelt  on  that  shore  doomed  to 


decay  and  death.  To  pass  into  God's  kingdom  it 
to  move  with  it,  not  only  up  to  the  grandeur  of  His 
universe,  but  into  the  heritage  of  Himself. 

—Ke>: 

(3587.)  A  pirate  cannot  be  pardoned  for  his  piracy 
because  he  is  generous,  and  in  most  respects  a 
moral  fellow.  He  is  out  on  the  high  seas  as  a  pirate, 
and  is  game  for  hemp  and  gallows,  though  he  read 
his  Bible  every  day,  and  do  a  thousand  kind  and 
good  actions  every  week.  But  if  he  repent  of  his 
ways  and  try  to  become  an  honest  seam.Tn,  a  few 
forgetful  oaths  may  be  forgiven  him.  If  he  is  sail- 
ing right,  and  with  right  intentions,  he  will  not  be 
strictly  dealt  with,  though  he  do  knock  down  a  man 
now  and  tiien  when  he  ought  not.  So  a  man  who 
has  not  accepted  Christ  as  his  Saviour,  who  is  using 
himself  ju.st  as  God  did  not  intend  that  he  should 
be  used,  need  not  hope  that  his  occasional  good  and 
generous  deeds  can  do  him  any  service  in  the  matter 
of  salvation.  A  man  who  has  given  himself  to 
Christ  can  be  forgiven  and  helped  anew,  if  he  halt 
and  stumble,  because  his  face  is  set  in  the  right  way, 
and  his  heart's  desire  is  that  he  may  altam  unto  a 
perfect  oberiience.  His  sins  will  be  each  day  par- 
doned by  the  mercy  of  Him  to  whom  he  looks  for  all 
of  this  life  and  that  which  is  to  come. 

— Befchtr. 

(3588.)  It  would  be  a  very  small  thing  for  the 
captain  of  a  piratical  vessel  to  show  that  he  kept  it 
perfectly  clean,  that  his  men  weie  onlerly,  and  that 
lie  and  they  were  guilty  of  no  special  violations  cf 
the  etiquette  of  life.  If  a  vessel  is  a  piratical  vessel, 
and  at  war  with  every  civilised  nation  on  the  globe, 
that  is  enough  to  condemn  it.  Its  organisation,  the 
purpose  of  it,  is  radically,  atrociously  wrong.  And 
these  single  virtues  of  a  man's  character  are  of  little 
account,  so  long  as  the  very  foundation  of  his  being 
is  corrupt.  It  is  a  small  thing  for  a  man  to  show 
that  he  has  never  committed  any  memorable,  flag- 
rant sins.  It  is  far  belter,  of  course,  for  a  man  to 
cultivate  virtues,  and  abstain  from  vices.  I  would 
say  nothing  to  discourage  from  any  virtue,  or  to  en- 
courage in  any  vice.  But  I  say  that  naere  right- 
doing,  ami  abstinence  from  wrong-doing,  is  not  all 
that  is  required  of  men.  A  man's  whole  life  is  more 
than  any  individual  act.  The  opposition  of  the 
heart  to  God  is  of  itself  a  thing  meriting  judgment- 
day  condemnation.  Nothing  more  than  this  is 
required  to  exclude  a  man  from  the  glory  ot  the 
eternal  heavens.  — Iteecher. 

(3589.)  Even  such  thoughts  as  these  turn  in  men's 
miiMS  :  "  We  are  lold  that  we  niu.-l  do  good  deeds, 
and  th.Tt  every  man  shall  receive  of  the  Lord  ac- 
cording to  liis  deeils  whether  good  or  bad  ;  and  yet, 
at  the  same  time,  we  are  told  that  we  .^hall  not  be 
saved  if  we  have  nothing  but  good  deeds.  And 
what,  under  such  circumstances,  will  become  of  our 
good  deeds,  when,  having  passed  through  life,  we 
come  before  the  judgment-seal  ol  Christ?"  Well, 
I  should  think  you  thought  yourselves  to  be  trees, 
and  your  good  deeds  to  be  Iruits  that  could  be 
picked  off.  Good  conduct  reports  and  registers 
itself  upon  your  character,  and  you  have  its  reward 
there.  It  pays  there  if  anywhere.  Gool  conduct  is 
not  like  bank-bills,  like  dollars,  like  gold  or  silver, 
that  can  be  taken  away  from  you  or  given  hack  to 
you.  A  man  receives  the  good  that  he  does  in  him- 
self and  the  bad  that  he  does  in  liini-eif.  If  you  do 
good,  so  that  you  lay  the  sub.siaatial  loundatiuus  of 


MORALISTS. 


(    608    ) 


MORALISTS. 


righteousness  in  a  nature  that  tends  to  grow,  it  is 
possible  for  God  to  confer  salvation  and  happiness 
upon  you  ;  but  if  you  do  not  lay  such  foundations,  it 
is  impossible  even  for  God,  except  by  a  miracle,  to 
make  heaven  in  you.  And  as  to  your  good  conduct, 
I  put  a  question  to  you.  You  say,  "  What  will  be- 
come of  my  good  conduct,  if  it  is  not  sufficient  to 
save  me?"  Suppose  you  are  in  a  prison,  and  you 
make  a  ladder  six  feet  too  short  to  reach  the  top  of 
the  wall,  what  do  you  do  with  the  lower  rounds  wiien 
you  fmd  that  tliey  do  not  siiffice  for  getting  you  out  ? 
Tiie  ladder  is  good  for  something  if  it  enables  you 
to  climb  high  enough  to  escape,  but  if  it  is  not,  you 
might  as  well  not  have  made  it  at  all.  There  is 
something  solemn  in  that.  Many  get  almost  into 
che  kiugdom  of  God,  and  miss,  and  pass  on,  and  aie 
punislied.  You  had  knowledge  enough  to  show  you 
the  way,  and  you  had  impulse  enough  to  carry  you  a 
good  part  of  the  distance  ;  but  you  stopped  before 
you  had  reached  and  grasped  the  thing  for  wliich 
you  set  out. 

I  never  shall  forget  an  incident  that  occurred  many 
years  ago,  and  that  impressed  my  childish  feeling,  of 
one  who  was  turned  out  from  an  unfeeling  husband's 
house.  It  was  on  a  bitter  cold  winter  night  ;  and 
she  wandered  toward  her  father's  house,  almost 
naked,  and  with  shoeless  feet.  After  wading  throui^h 
the  snow  till  she  was  benumbed  and  exhausted,  she 
sank  down  and  died,  and  iier  stiff  and  marblelike 
form  was  found  so  near  her  home  that  if  there  had 
been  a  light  burning  in  the  window  she  could  have 
seen  it.  There,  riglit  before  the  door-yard,  where 
often  she  had  plucked  flowers  in  her  girlhood,  she 
gave  over  and  perished. 

I  think  with  many  persons  it  is  just  so.  They 
wander  through  the  black  wilderness  and  terrible 
winter  of  sin  till  they  almost  see  their  Father's  house, 
and  then  their  strength  is  spent,  and  they  die  with- 
in a  few  steps  of  home.  If  it  is  worth  your  while  to 
be  good,  it  is  worth  your  while  to  be  so  good  that 
your  goodness  shall  take  hol(f  on  everlasting  life. 

— Beecher. 

8.  Are  often  farther  from  salvation  than  the 
profane, 

(3590.)  A  man  trusting  in  his  morality,  and  look- 
ing no  larther,  is  in  the  most  dangerous  condition 
to  hinder  him  from  repentance  and  faith  that  any 
man  can  be  in  ;  and  so,  by  consequence  and  acci- 
dentally, such  a  state  is  the  worst,  worse  than  pro- 
faneness  itself.  For  whereas  a  man  must  be 
humbletl,  and  part  with  his  own  righteousness  ere 
he  can  truly  come  to  Christ,  they  are  the  farthest 
off  from  that  work  of  any  other.  As  ignorant 
people  are  far  off  (as  the  Gentiles  were,  because 
without  the  knowledge  of  God),  so  these,  because 
of  the  want  of  knowledge  of  themselves.  As  take 
a  man  that  has  some  wit,  that  is  conceited  of  it, 
he  is  farther  off  from  being  a  wise  man  than  one 
who  is  more  a  fool.  Solomon  says,  "There  is 
more  hope  of  a  fool  than  of  him."  Why  ?  Because 
ere  he  become  wise  he  must  become  a  fool,  as 
Paul  tells  us,  "  Let  no  man  deceive  himself:  if  any 
man  among  you  seems  to  be  wise  in  this  woild, 
let  him  become  a  fool  that  he  may  be  wise."  It  is 
a  ilouble  task  to  make  that  man  v\  ise,  to  show  him 
he  is  a  fool,  and  then  to  give  him  wit.  So  nere  is 
the  difference  between  profane  and  civii  men,  that 
though  these  last  have  something  that  when  grace 
is  wrought  will  be  more  serviceable  to  grace  than 
8    profane    man    has,  and    is    iu    itself,  comparing 


things  with  things,  higher  ;  yet,  compare  it  with 
the  working  of  grace,  this  man  is  farther  off  the 
working  of  it,  because  a  profane  man  will  sooner 
see  himself  wicked.  The  publicans  and  sinners 
went  faster  to  heaven  than  the  Pharisees  ;  yea,  I 
say,  there  may  be  a  greater  nighness  between  the 
things,  when  yet  there  is  a  greater  distance  between 
the  working  of  them  and  bringing  them  together. 
Thus,  brother  and  sister  are  nigher  in  blood,  but 
farther  off  marrying  each  other  than  two  strangers  ; 
and  thus  two  men  upon  the  tops  of  two  houses, 
opposite  to  each  other  m  one  of  your  narrow  streets, 
— they  are  nearer  to  each  other  in  distance  than 
those  below  are,  yet  in  regard  of  coming  eacii  to 
other  they  may  be  said  to  be  farther  off,  for  the  one 
must  come  down,  and  then  climb  up  again.  Thus 
now  a  moral  man,  though  he  seems  nearer  to  a 
state  of  grace,  yet  is  really  farther  off;  for  he  must 
be  convinced  of  his  false  righteousness,  and  then 
climb  up  to  the  state  of  grace,  to  see  himself  as 
low  and  vile  as  the  profanest  man  in  the  world,  as 
every  man  when  he  is  humbled  does. 

—  Goodwin,  1 600- 1679. 

(3591.)  Take  heed  that  thy  morality  be  not  thy 
snare.  The  young  man  in  the  Gospel  might  have 
been  a  better  man  if  he  had  not  been  so  good. 

—  Giiniall,  1 61 7- 1 679. 

(3592.)  There  seems  to  be  a  fitness  in  morality 
for  the  receiving  special  grace,  because  the  violence 
and  tumultuousness  of  sin  is  in  some  measure 
appeased,  the  flame  and  spark  of  it  allayed,  and 
the  body  of  death  lies  more  quiet  in  them,  and  the 
principles  cherished  by  them  bear  some  testimony 
to  the  holiness  of  the  precepts.  But  though  it 
stems  to  set  men  at  a  greater  nearness  to  the  king- 
dom of  God,  yet  with  all  its  own  strength  it  cannot 
bring  the  kingdom  of  God  into  the  heart,  unless 
the  Spirit  opens  the  lock.  Yea,  sometimes  it  sets 
a  man  from  the  kingdom  of  God,  as  being  a  greall 
enemy  to  the  righteousness  of  the  gospel,  both 
imputed  and  inherent,  which  is  the  crown  of  the 
gospel  :  to  imputed,  as  standing  upon  a  righteous- 
ness of  their  own,  and  conceiving  no  need  of  any 
other :  to  inherent,  as  acting  tiieir  self-reflection 
and  self-applauses.  What  may  seem  preparations 
to  us  in  matters  of  moral  life,  may  in  the  root  be 
mucii  distant  and  vastly  asunder  from  grace,  as  a 
divine  of  our  own  illustrates  it,  to  mountains  whose 
tops  seem  near  together  may  in  the  bottom  be  many 
miles  asunder.  The  root  ol  that  which  looks  like 
a  preparation  may  be  laid  in  the  very  gall  of  bitter- 
ness ;  as  Simon  Magus  desiring  the  gill  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  but  from  the  covetousness  of  his 
heart.  Other  operations  upon  the  soul  which  seem 
to  be  nearer  preparations,  as  convictions,  do  not 
infer  grace ;  for  the  heart,  as  a  field,  may  be 
ploughed  by  terrors,  and  yet  not  sown  by  any  good 
seed.  Planting  and  watering  are  preparations,  but 
not  the  cause  of  fruit ;  the  increase  depends  upon 
God,  — Charnock,  162S-1680, 

(3593.)  "Jesus  saith  unto  them.  Verily  I  say 
unto  you,  that  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  go  into 
the  kingdom  of  God  before  you.  For  John  came 
unto  you  in  the  way  of  righteousness,  and  ye  be- 
lieved him  not ;  but  the  publicans  and  the  harlots 
believed  him  :  and  ye,  when  ye  had  seen  it,  repen'.ed 
not  afterward,  that  ye  might  believe  him," 

How  could  that  be  ?  The  Pharisee  was  a  man 
of  good  morals,  and  usually  he  was  a  man  of  educa- 


MORALISTS. 


(    609    ) 


MORALITY. 


tion  and  inte.ligence.  Indeed,  the  Pharisee  was 
eminently  the  reformer.  He  might  almost  be  con- 
sidered as  the  Puritan  of  the  Jews.  And  yet  Christ 
distinctly  said  that  the  publican  and  the  harlot  stood 
better  than  he.  And  when  they  repented,  they 
showed  more  signs  of  amelioration  than  he. 

How  is  it,  then,  that  a  man  who  has  a  whole 
round  of  morality,  mny,  in  the  sight  of  God,  be  less 
salvable  than  they  who  have  nothing  but  a  germ  of 
goodness?  Well,  let  me  put  a  case  to  you.  Here 
is  a  conceited,  pedantic  man,  about  forty  or  foriy- 
five  years  of  age,  who  has  a  smattering  of  almost 
tveryihing.  He  can  talk  a  little,  and  write  a  little, 
ind  talk  about  almost  everything,  and  wri'.e  about 
ilmost  everything.  He  thinks  he  has  touched 
tbout  all  the  depths  of  knowledge,  and  he  sits  in 
i\jnost  infinite  complacency.  You  never  can  tell 
Mm  anything  but  that  he  will  say,  "Yes,  I  have 
{Jeaid  that  before."  You  never  can  explain  any- 
tiiing  to  him  that  he  will  not  say,  "I  understood 
that  k'ng  ago."  There  is  nothing  that  in  his 
estimation  he  is  not  perfectly  familiar  with.  But  in 
his  kilchen  there  is  a  poor  negro,  that  has  lately 
escaped  from  bondage,  and  that,  with  a  hunger  that 
will  not  be  appeased,  is  reading  every  book  that  he 
can  get  hold  of.  He  knows  tb.at  he  is  ignorant, 
av.l  he  feels  degraded  in  every  part  of  his  nature, 
and  he  longs  for  knowledge  witii  a  consciousness  of 
how  much  he  needs  it.  Now,  suppose  you  were  to 
choose  of  these  twc  the  one  that  you  thought  would  be 
the  most  likely  to  tlirive  on  knowledge,  which  would 
you  take?  Would  you  choose  tlie  man  that  had 
stopped  growing,  and  Was  satisfied  with  his  know- 
ledge, or  the  man  that,  being  very  ignorant,  and 
being  conscious  of  l.is  ignorance,  had  an  insatiable 
appeiite  for  knowledge,  and  was  just  beginning  to 
grow?  If  you  wanteil  a  tree  to  transplant,  would 
you  take  that  old  tree  whose  branches  have  ceased 
to  hold  their  leaves,  cicept  a  few  of  the  toughest 
of  them,  whose  trunk  is  gnarled  and  rugged,  and 
whose  roots  are  decayed  in  the  ground  ;  or  would 
you  take  that  little  whip-like  tree  in  the  nursery 
that  is  round  and  pluii.p  and  vigorous,  and  full  of 
jap,  and  that  in  every  part  a^lts,  as  it  were,  a  chance 
to  grow?  Would  you  not  take  the  tree  which  is 
young  and  small,  but  in  which  tiiere  is  promise  and 
prophecy  for  the  future? 

Now,  when  our  Lord  looked  irpon  the  Pharisees, 
He  saw  that  they  had  done  gia'd-ing;  that  they 
were  bark-bound  ;  that  they  bcfe  no  fruit ;  that 
though  comparatively  they  did  not  come  far  short 
in  external  morals,  they  had  given  .1  emselves  over 
to  lethargy  and  spiritual  pride,  so  thit  they  could 
not  be  stirred.  But  when  He  looket\  it  the  publi- 
cans and  harlots,  He  saw  that  the  Fprit  of  God 
had  touched  them  ;  that  they  were  beginning  to 
have  a  sacred  rebound  from  their  sins;  that  there 
was  a  thirst  for  knowledge  springing  up  in  them  ; 
and  that  their  souls  were  praying  for  God's  help, 
as  the  parched  plains  pray  for  dew  and  r.iin.  And 
seeing  these  tilings,  lie  said,  "There  i'  nore 
ciiance  for  these  than  for  the  Pharisees."  And 
when  He  said  that,  did  lie  not  say  it  to  somi.  of 
Tou  ?  Is  there  not  more  chance  for  the  poor,  for 
the  vicious,  who  are  just  turning  from  their  vices:, 
and  who  are  willing  and  anxious  to  grow,  than 
there  is  for  many  persons  who  are  respectable,  as  it 
is  said,  and  who  not  only  do  not  wish  to  grow,  but 
re'^'ise  to  grow  ?     Take  heed  to  this  matter  ! 

— Bcecker. 


MORALITY, 

1.  The  distinction  between  morality  and  reli- 
gion. 

(3594.)  Morality  is  character  and  conduct,  sucli 
as  is  required  by  the  circle  or  community  in  which 
the  man  s  life  hajipens  to  be  placed.  It  shows  how 
much  good  men  require  of  us.  Religion  is  the  endea- 
vour of  a  man  with  all  his  mind,  and  heart,  and  soul, 
to  form  his  life  and  his  character  upon  the  true 
elements  of  love  and  submission  to  God,  and  love 
and  good  will  to  man.  A  spiritual  Christian  is  like 
a  man  who  learns  the  principles  of  music,  and  then 
goes  on  to  the  practice.  A  moralist  is  like  a  man 
who  learns  notliing  of  the  principles,  but  only  a  few 
airs  by  rote,  and  is  satisfied  to  know  as  many  tunes 
as  common  people  do.  — Becchtr. 

2.  Is  a  field  flower, 

(35950  There  is  a  moral  truth  and  uprightness, 
which  we  may  call  a  field-flower,  because  it  may  be 
found  growing  in  the  wild  and  waste  of  riature, 

— Salter, 

3.  Is  not  to  be  despised. 

(3596.)  Do  not  understand  me  assaying,  because 
I  think  you  ought  to  be  born  again  of  the  Spirit, 
and  because  I  believe  divine  grace  will  produce 
richer  fruit  than  ever  can  come  from  an  unregene- 
rated  nature,  that  you  throw  away  everything.  If 
you  have  nothing  better  than  morality,  keep  that 
by  all  means. 

If  my  child  should  come  to  me  with  coarse  and 
rude  garments,  I  should  not  hesitate  to  say  to  him, 
"  My  son,  be  clothed  with  better  ;  "  but  the  request 
that  he  should  be  clothed  with  better  garments  does 
not  imply  that  the  garments  he  has  on  are  good  for 
nothing.  If  he  were  dressed  in  linsey-woolsey,  that 
would  be  belter  than  nothing  ;  though  broadcloth 
would  be  still  better.  Even  linsey-woolsey  would 
be  better  than  leather;  but  I  would  have  him  wear 
leather  rather  than  he  should  wear  something  worse. 
And  if  it  was  a  garment  that  but  half  covered  the 
body,  it  would  be  better  than  a  cincture  of  leather 
round  the  waist.  But  even  a  cincture  of  leather 
worn  about  the  waist  would  be  belter  than  nothing 
at  all. 

Now,  if  an  Indian,  with  a  fragmentary  dress, 
should  present  himself  as  a  full-dressed  man  before 
you,  would  you  deride  the  idea  that  he  was  pro- 
perly clad?  Would  you  have  him  throw  away  tlie 
little  he  had  be. ore  he  got  more?  Complete  dress 
is  what  one  wants  :  but  is  'nothing  short  of  that  of 
any  value? 

I  do  not  say  to  the  young,  "  These  moralities  are 
of  no  value  to  you."  They  are  of  great  value  to 
you.  Truth-speaking,  fidelity,  industry,  cleanliness, 
punctuality,  frugality,  enterprise  —  these  are  real 
excellences.  Have  these  at  least.  Have  these 
anyhow.  But  will  you  be  content  with  these?  Is 
there  not  something  in  every  human  soul  which  has 
the  touch  of  inspiration  in  it,  and  which  leads  it  to 
aspire  to  something  more  than  these  qualities, 
which  belong  to  the  undeveloped  mass  ol  man- 
kind ?  —  Beecher. 

4.  Yet  it  is  insufficient. 

l  (3597-)  "  ^s  all  a  civil  man's  civility  nothing?  and 
are  all  moral  virtues  nothing  ?  Are  all  these  then 
^ood  for  nothing?" 

1  answer,  "^'es,  they  are  in  themselves  good,  and 
th«y  are  good  for  something,  but  they  are  not  goo<l 
tc  m  ke  a  man   spiritually  alive  ?     If  a  man  come 

2  Q 


MORALITY. 


(    6io    ) 


MORALITY. 


and  offer  you  a  brass  sixpence,  or  a  brass  shilling  ; 
and  you  say,  '*  No,  it  will  not  go  :  "  and  if  lie  reply, 
and  say  to  you,  "  But  though  it  be  brass,  is  it  good 
for  nothing?"  you  will  say,  "Yes,  it  is  good  lor 
•ometliing,  brass  is  good  for  something,  but  it  is 
not  good  lor  money,  it  will  not  pay  your  debt,  it  is 
not  sufficient  to  fetch  you  out  of  prison."  So  now 
say  I.  All  moral  virtues  are  in  themselves  good  ; 
but  they  can  never  make  you  spiritually  alive  ;  it  is 
only  grace,  and  union  with  Jesus  Christ  by  the 
Spirit,  that  must  make  a  man  siiiiitually  alive. 

BriJi^e,  1 600-1 670. 

(3508.)  Moral  virtue  only  restrains  the  outward 
man,  it  does  not  change  tlie  whole  man.  A  lion  in 
A  grate  is  a  lion  still  ;  he  is  restrained,  but  not 
changed,  for  he  retains  his  lion-like  nature  still. 
So  temporary  grace  restrains  many  men  from  this 
and  that  wickedness,  but  it  does  not  change  and 
turn  their  hearts  from  wickedness. 

— Brooke,  1 608- 1 680. 

(3599.)  Civility  is  a  good  staff  to  walk  with  among 
men,  but  it  is  a  bad  ladder  to  climb  up  to  heaven. 
We  must  deny  our  holy  things  in  point  of  justifica- 
tion. Alas,  how  are  our  duties  chequered  with  sin  ! 
I'ut  gold  in  the  fire  and  there  conics  out  dross;  our 
roost  golden  services  are  mixed  with  unbelief.  Deny 
self-righteousne->s ;  use  duty,  but  trust  to  Christ. 
Noah's  dove  made  use  of  her  win^^s  to  fly,  but 
t-rusted  to  the  ark  for  safety  ;  let  duties  have  your 
diligence,  but  not  your  confidence.         ^Watson. 

(3600.)  Morality  must  always  precede  and  accom- 
pany religion,  and  yet  religion  is  much  mure  than 
morality.  You  buy  a  camellia,  and  determine,  in 
spite  of  florists,  to  make  it  blossom  in  your  parlour. 
\o\x  watch  and  tend  it,  and  at  length  the  buds 
appear.  Day  by  day  you  see  them  swell,  antl 
fondly  hope  they  will  come  to  perfect  flower  ;  but 
just  as  they  should  open,  one  alter  another  they 
drop  off;  and  you  look  at  it,  despairingly  exclaim- 
ing, "All  is  over  for  this  year!"  But  I  say, 
"  What  !  the  plant  is  thrifty.  Are  not  Jajjonica 
roots,  and  branches,  and  leaves  good?"  ''Yes," 
you  answer ;  "  but  1  do  not  care  for  them.  I 
bought  it  for  the  blossom."  .  Now,  when  we  bring 
God  the  roots,  and  branches,  and  leaves  of  morality, 
He  is  not  satisfied.  He  wants  the  blossoming  of 
the  heart  ;  and  that  is  religion.  — Beechtr. 

(3601.)  Morality  is  good  as  copper  is  good.  But 
copper  is  not  even  silver;  certainly  it  is  not  gold. 
Your  morality  is  good  as  far  as  it  goes  ;  you  are  a 
thousand  times  better  off  with  it  than  you  would  be 
without  it.  But  it  does  not  take  you  half  way  up 
the  first  pair  of  stairs  ;  it  certainly  does  not  take 
you  up  where  you  c.Tn  look  out  and  sweep  the 
whole  heavens,  and  behold  the  stars  at  night,  and 
enjoy  the  royalty  of  sunlight  by  day.  You  need  to 
go  higher  than  you  can  carry  yourselves.  You  can- 
Dot  find  peace  till  you  find  it  in  believing  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  — Beecker. 

(3602.)  Morality  is  not  a  substitute  for  spiritual 
religion,  any  more  than  industry  and  frugality  are 
tubstitutes  for  patriotism.  Lvery  man  ought  to  be 
frugal  and  industrious  ;  but  many  are  frugal  and 
industrious  who  have  no  patriotism.  A  man  may 
be  very  neat,  and  neatness  is  a  good  quality  ;  yet, 
when  he  is  attacked  he  may  be  a  coward,  and  run 
But  at  the  back  door,  and  leave  his  wife  and  chil- 


dren to  take  care  of  themselves.  Neatness,  though 
it  is  a  good  quality,  is  no  substitute  for  a  man's 
fidelity  to  those  who  are  under  his  trust.  And  so, 
in  regard  to  the  lower  forms  of  morality,  they  are 
meritorious  and  excellent;  but  they  are  not  all  tliat 
you  need.  — Beecker. 

(3603.)  It  cannot  be  a  substitute  for  religion.  And 
yet  men  who  have  only  morality  say,  "  What  lack 
1  yet?" 

Says  my  vine,  that  has  been  growing  now  foi 
eight  years,  and  clambering  up  over  the  trellis  and 
into  the  tree,  "Do  1  need  to  grow  any  more? 
Am  I  not  a  stalwart  vine  already?  Did  you  ever 
see  leaves  that  were  better  than  mine  are?"  It 
looks  over  some  of  the  neighbouring  vines,  the  lona, 
the  Delaware,  and  other  choice  varieties — and  sees 
that  they  are  small  and  covered  with  rust  ;  and  it 
says,  "I  never  had  rust  on  me  like  that.  Those 
are  your  choice,  famous  vines,  are  they?  Look  at 
them.  What  are  they  worth  ?  The  leaves  are 
bleared  and  wilted  and  early  falling  from  mildew. 
Look  at  my  great  thick-lipped  leaves."  It  runs  up 
in  the  tree,  and  makes  extra  leaves,  and  they  do 
not  rust,  and  it  looks  down  on  these  finer  vines, 
and  the  Utile  clusters,  and  small  berries,  and  says, 
"See  what  a  great  vine  I  am  1"  Well,  it  is  rank 
in  the  wood,  and  rank  in  the  leaf:  but  there  has 
not  a  grape  grown  on  it  since  it  had  stood,  and 
there  will  not  one  grow  on  it  if  it  stands  twenty 
years  longer.  And  what  is  a  grape-vine  good  for 
which  ha-i  nothing  but  healthy  leaves  on  it?  Yet, 
is  not  g"od,  healthy  grape-wood  a  desirable  thing? 
Are  not  healthy  leaves  very  desirable  on  a  grape- 
vine? Is  it  not  dcsiralile  to  have  the  leaves  of  a 
grape-vine  free  from  miklew  ?  It  is  not  on  account 
of  what  this  grape-vine  has  that  we  reject  ii,  but 
because  it  is  deficient  in  those  higher  qualities 
which  should  make  it  what  it  was  meant  to  be,  and 
because  it  prides  itself  on  the  possession  of  lower 
and  humbler  developments. 

I  do  not  say  that  not  stealing,  and  not  swearing, 
and  not  drinking  are  not  good  things;  but  if  you 
sujipose  that  a  plant  is  to  have  nothing  but  ground- 
leaves,  you  are  mistaken.  Where  is  the  fruit  ? 
Where  are  the  clusters?  Where  are  the  finer  traits 
of  spiritual  excellence?  You  were  born  for  some- 
thing more  than  negatives  —  for  something  more 
than  those  virtues  which  consist  in  not  doing  evil. 
You  were  born  in  the  image  of  God.  And  as  He  is 
Creator,  sometliing  of  His  creating  nature  resides 
in  you,  as  it  does  in  every  part  of  humanity.  It  is 
lor  you  to  develop  the  higher  forms  of  manhood, 
and  not  to  rest  content  with  the  lower  forms.  If 
you  knew  no  better,  you  scarcely  would  be  charged 
with  dishonour,  but  since  you  do  know  better,  it  is 
dishonouiable  in  you  to  live  so  far  below  that  which 
God  intended  you  should  become.         — Beecher. 

(3604.)  "Well,  then,"  you  will  say,  "what 
about  those  qualities  when  a  man  dies?  A  man 
has  been  industrious,  and  frugal,  and  honest,  and 
moderately  truth-speaking  all  his  life  long;  and 
when  he  dies,  and  goes  to  judgment,  what  is  to  be 
done  with  these  qualities  which  you  say  are  good?" 
A  man  undertakes  to  jump  across  a  chasm  that  is 
ten  feet  wide,  and  jumps  eight  feet  ;  and  a  man 
says,  "  What  is  going  to  be  done  with  the  eight 
feet  that  he  did  jump?"  Well,  what  is  going  to 
be  done  with  it?  It  is  one  of  those  things  which 
must  be  accomplished  in  whole,  or  it  is  not  accom- 


MORALITY. 


(    6ii    ) 


OBEDIENCE. 


plished  at  all.  A  man  lets  out  an  anchor  from  a 
ship,  and  it  goes  to  within  a  fathom  of  the  bottom, 
but  it  does  not  touch  ;  and  a  man  says,  "  Is  it  not 
good  as  far  as  it  goes?"  How  good  is  an  anchor 
^hat  does  not  touch  the  bottom  ?  A  man  frames  a 
building,  and  makes  his  mortises  and  tenons  so 
that  they  come  wiihin  an  inch  of  fitting  ;  and  when 
he  is  reproached  for  his  unskilful  work,  lie  says, 
"  It  is  good  as  far  as  it  goes."  And  how  good 
is  that?  Men  say,  "We  have  all  these  minor 
qualities  ;  we  have  these  lower  moralities  ;  are  they 
of  no  benefit  to  us?"  Yes,  they  are  of  benefit  to 
you  now  ;  they  are  of  benefit  to  you  in  a  thousand 
ways  in  this  world  ;  but  they  do  not  constitute 
that  character  which  is  to  fit  you  for  the  world  to 
come.  They  do  not  go  to  make  the  golden  key 
which  unlocks  those  mysteries  of  love  which  you 
have  need  of.  Tiiese  minor  qualities  are  not  a 
sabstituie  for  it.  You  go  forth  an  ungrown  spirit  ; 
you  go  forth  witli  lower  leaves  without  the  bloom 
and  the  fruit ;  and  the  lower  is  no  substitute  for 
the  higher.  — Bcccher. 

(3605.)  When  we  see  men  embowered  under 
external  moralities,  and  atiem]it  to  teach  that 
morality  is  not  enough,  the  impression  arises  that 
we  undervalue  morals.  1  do  not  undervalue  morals 
any  more  than  the  tax-collector  undervalues  a 
hundred  dollars,  when  I  go  to  pay  my  taxes,  and 
offer  him  that  amount,  when  my  bill  is  five  hundred, 
lie  says,  "1  will  not  take  it.  It  is  not  enough." 
He  does  not  des[)ise  the  iiundred  dollars.  He 
!  merely  says,  "  You  must  put  more  with  it."  And 
I  do  not  liespise  morality  because  I  say  that  it  does 
not  rise  high  enough.  It  is  good  as  far  up  as  it 
goes.  So  is  a  grape-vine  good  as  far  up  as  it  goes, 
when  it  is  two  or  three  feet  high;  but  it  does  not 
arrive  at  what  it  was  planted  for  until  it  reaches 
that  point  where  it  has  blossoms  and  clusters.  It 
is  the  cluster  that  determines  its  value. 

— Beecher. 

6.  It  \8  at  best  a  preparation  for  something 
better. 

(3606.)  Direct,  intimate,  hourly,  and  daily  living 
with  Christ,  is  the  thing  which  the  gospel  proposes 
as  its  characteristic  aim.  Morality  is  a  good  thing. 
A  man  without  it  certainly  cannot  be  a  Christian, 
although  he  may  not  be  one  with  it.  When  1 
mean  to  buiki  me  a  house  on  a  piece  of  ground 
that  is  unoccupied  and  overgrown,  I  send  a  gang 
of  hands  to  grub  out  the  old  roots,  to  cut  down  the 
laiik  weeds,  10  grade  the  surlace,  and  to  make 
excavations  preparatory  10  building  ;  but  alter  they 
have  done  all  that — without  which  I  could  not 
have  a  house — I  have  not  yet  a  house.  All  this  is 
but  preparatory.      The  house  is  yet  to  arise. 

Moralities  are  mere  day-labourers,  who  dig  out 
the  roots,  and  clear  off  the  weeds,  and  get  the 
ground  ready  for  sometliing  else.  Morals  do  but 
plough  the  soil— piety  is  the  iruitlul  stem,  and  love 
the  fair  flower  which  sjinngs  from  the  soil.  Good 
morals  are  indispensaljle  to  piety  ;  and  piety  to  a 
certain  extent,  is  gauged  by  its  sweet  reaction  upon 
morals  ;  but  morality  does  not  constitute  piety. 

"liut, "  some  will  say,  "do  you  mean  to  teach 
that  we  are  to  despise  morality,  as  an  indi/Terent 
thing?"  You  are  to  despise  it  just  as  I  despise  the 
first  leaves  which  the  bean  or  the  pea  puts  lorth 
after  it  is  planted.  Thest-  are,  to  be  sure,  essential 
to  the  perfection  of  the  plant,  but  they  are  not  llie 


vine  itself.  What  God  thought  of  when  He  made 
the  bean,  was  a  long  twining  siem,  covered  with 
pods  of  wholesome  fruit.  You  know  that  when 
the  bean  grows,  there  first  appears  two  fat  leaves, 
just  to  heave  up  the  ground.  As  soon  as  these 
open,  up  comes  the  germ.  A  man  says  to  me,  "  I 
have  got  beans."  I  go  and  look  at  what  he  calls 
beans,  and  I  see  nothing  but  great  succulent  leaves, 
and  1  say  to  him,  "  These  aie  not  beans  ;  they  are 
mere  reservoirs  of  juice,  designed  to  nourish  the 
plant  till  it  can  take  care  of  itself.  You  have  got 
nothing  at  all  as  yet."  "What!"  says  he,  "do 
you  mean  to  despise  these  leaves  ?  7  hey  are 
certainly  good  for  something."  "No,"  I  reply, 
"I  do  not  mean  to  despise  them  ;  but  they  are 
not  the  fruit  which  the  plant  was  created  to  pro- 
duce They  serve  a  good  purpose,  by  nourishing 
the  plant  in  onler  that  it  may  grow  and  develop  its 
blossoms  and  pods.  For  no  other  purpose  are 
they  good  for  anything."  And  morals  aie  just  the 
succulent  leal  that  help  the  germ  of  piety  to  start 
and  nourish  the  plani,  in  order  that  it  may  grovr 
and  develop  its  legitimate  fruit.  Their  office  does 
not  extend  beyond  that — not  a  step  ! 

— Beecher. 

6.  It  Is  good  for  this  world  only. 

(3607.)  Coin  that  is  current  in  one  place  is  value- 
less in  another.  Sujipose  an  Indian,  lar  in  tiie 
western  wilds,  were  to  say,  "  I  will  become  a  trader 
with  the  whites.  I  will  ^^o  to  New  York  city  and 
buy  up  half  the  goods  there,  and  come  back  and 
sell  them,  and  then  what  a  rich  Indian  I  shall  be." 
He  then  collects  all  his  wampum  beads,  which  are 
his  money,  and  compared  with  other  Indians  he  is 
very  rich,  and  away  he  journeys  to  yonder  city. 
Imagine  him  going  into  Stewart's,  and  offering  his 
wampum  there  in  exchange  for  their  goods.  They 
are  refused.  They  were  money  in  the  woods — in 
the  city  they  are  worthless.  And  there  are  thou- 
sands of  men  who  are  carrying  with  them,  to  offer 
at  the  judgment,  what  is  no  belter  than  the  Indian's 
beads.  They  are  reckoning  on  their  generosity, 
their  prompt  payment  of  all  their  debts,  their  vari- 
ous good  natural  qualities  ;  but  w  hun  they  present 
them,  they  will  all  be  found  worthless  trash.  The 
things  that  have  made  them  strong,  and  valued,  and 
important  here,  will  there  be  worse  than  useless  to 
them.  — Backer. 


OBEDIENCE. 

I.    ITS  IRKSOMENFSS. 

(3608.)  We  cannot  draw  in  the  gears  of  obedi- 
ence. We  can  travel  a  whole  day  after  our  dogs  ; 
but  if  authority  should  chaige  us  to  measure  so 
many  miles,  how  often  would  we  complain  of  weari- 
ness 1  The  bird  can  sit  out  the  day-measuring  sun, 
see  his  rise  and  fall  without  irksomeness,  while  she 
is  hatching  her  eggs  ;  if  her  nest  were  a  cage,  with 
what  impatience  would  she  lament  so  long  a  bond- 
age 1  So  the  usurer,  though  he  began  his  first  bag 
with  the  first  hour,  and  pulls  not  off  his  hands  or 
his  eyes  till  the  eye  of  heaven  is  ashamed  of  it,  and 
denies  further  liyht,  he  is  not  weary  ;  let  him  sit  at 
church  two  hours,  the  seat  is  uneasy,  his  bona* 
ache,  either  a  cushion  to  fall  asleep  with  or  he  will 
begone:  Christ  may  justly  and  fitly  continue  His 
reproof  u|H)n  such,  "Can  ye  not  watch  with  Mt 
one  hour?"  — Adams,  id^^ 


OBEDIENCE. 


(    612    ) 


OBEDIENCE, 


II.  ITS  NECESSITY. 

{3609.)  It  is  not  enough  to  understand  the 
Word,  to  be  able  to  talk  and  dispute  of  the 
testimonies  of  God,  but  to  keep  them.  It  is  not 
enough  to  assent  to  them,  that  they  are  God's  laws, 
but  tliey  must  be  obeyed.  The  laws  of  earthly 
princes  are  not  obeyed  as  soon  as  believed  to  be  the 
king's  laws,  but  when  we  are  punctual  to  observe 
them.  This  is  to  keep  the  commandment  of  God. 
— Maiiion,  1 620-1 667. 

III.  rrs  REASONABLENESS. 

(3610.)  It  is  an  excellent  representation  of  St. 
Austin  ;  if  a  sculptor,  after  his  fashioning  a  piece  of 
marble  in  a  human  figure,  could  inspire  it  with  life 
and  sense,  and  give  it  motion  and  understanding, 
and  speech,  can  it  be  imagined  but  the  first  act  of 
it  would  be  to  prostrate  itself  at  the  feet  of  the 
maker,  in  subjection  and  thankfulness,  and  to  offer 
whatever  it  is,  and  can  do,  as  homage  to  him  ? 
The  almighty  hand  of  God  formed  our  bodies.  He 
breathed  into  us  the  spirit  of  li:e  ;  and  should  not 
the  power  of  love  constrain  us  to  live  wholly  accord- 
'•ag  to  His  will  ?  — Bales,  1625-1699. 

IV.  ITS  IVISDOM. 

(361 1.)  God  commands  nothing  but  what  is  bene- 
ficial. "  O  Israel,  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of 
thee,  but  to  fear  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  to  keep 
His  statutes,  which  I  command  thee  this  day,  for 
thy  good  ? "  To  obey  God,  is  not  so  much  our 
duty  as  our  privilege  :  His  commands  carry  meat 
in  the  mouth  of  them.  He  bids  us  repent,  and  why  ? 
that  our  sins  may  be  blotted  out  (Acts  iii.  19).  He 
commands  us  to  believe,  and  why  ?  that  we  may 
be  saved  (Acts  xvi.  31).  There  is  love  in  every 
command  :  as  if  a  king  should  bid  one  of  his  sub- 
jects dig  in  a  gold  mine,  then  take  the  gold  to 
himself.  — iVaison,  1696. 

V.  THE  TEST  OF  SINCERITY  AND  LOVE. 

(3612.)  Hypocrites  may  delight  in  the  specula- 
tion, but  a  child  of  God  is  delighted  in  the  obedience 
and  in  conformity  to  His  word.  "  1  have  rejoiced 
in  the  way  of  His  testimonies  as  much  as  in  all 
riches,"  not  only  in  the  testimonies  themselves — in 
the  naked  contemplation  of  these  blessed  truths — 
but  in  the  way  and  practice  of  these  things.  He 
that  loves  his  rule  will  study  an  exact  conformity 
thereto.  The  love  of  a  child  of  God  to  the  word 
differs  from  that  of  a  temporary  believer  in  this 
way.  A  mere  beholder  of  a.  rare  piece  of  painting 
may  be  greatly  pleased  with  it,  and  if  he  has  a  taste 
for  the  arts,  his  pleasure  and  satisfaction  will  be 
sensibly  increased.  But  this  is  nothing  to  the  en- 
joyment which  an  artist  will  find  in  it.  What  is  it 
to  the  zest  and  delight  which  he  takes  in  imitating, 
and  copying  it  out,  in  expressing  it,  when  he  can 
by  his  own  pencil  copy  it  out  to  the  life  ?  So  while 
the  one  contents  himself  with  barren  admiration 
and  naked  praise  and  acknowledgment,  the  true 
believer  finds  his  delight  when  he  can  copy  out  the 
word  of  Goil,  and  transcribe  it  as  the  moral  image 
of  his  God  into  his  heart.  — Salter. 

(3613  )  "  Herein  is  My  Father  glorified."  A  king 
is  made  glorious  by  the  obedience  of  the  subjects 
throughout  his  realm.  He  is  honoured  in  that  way. 
The  parent  is  honoured  by  the  child.  How  ?  Not 
by  his  running  around  the  neighbourhood  and  say- 


ing, "Oh,  what  a  great  man  my  father  is  I"  or, 
"  What  a  beautiful  woman  my  mother  is  1  "  or, 
"  What  a  splendid  house  my  father  has  to  live  in  1 '", 
For  a  child  to  do  that  would  be  ridiculous.  We. 
like  to  see  a  child  manifest  warmth  and  affection 
toward  his  parents ;  but  publishing  such  things 
in  the  streets  about  one's  parents  is  not  glorifying 
those  parents.  If  a  child  loves  and  honours  his 
parents,  he  shows  it  by  studiously  fulfilling  their 
known  wishes.  An  affectionate  and  loving  child 
does  honour  his  parents  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  neigh- 
bouriiood.  The  teacher  is  honoured,  not  by  what 
the  pupil  says,  but  by  what  he  does.  Find  out 
what  they  want  who  are  put  over  you,  and  do  that  ; 
and  then  you  honour  them.  And  we  honour,  or, 
what  is  the  same  thing,  we  glorify  God  by  fulfilling 
His  known  commands.  — Beecher, 

(3614.)  "To  obey  is  better  than  sacrifice." 
There  are  some  soldiers  here  to-night.  Now, 
suppose  one  of  these  received  orders  from  the  com- 
manding officer  to  keep  guard  at  such  and  such  a 
door.  AH  of  a  sudden  he  thinks  to  himself,  "  I  am 
very  fond  of  our  commander,  and  I  should  like  to 
do  something  for  him."  He  puts  his  musket  against 
the  wall,  and  starts  out  to  find  a  shop  where  he 
can  buy  a  bunch  of  flowers.  He  is  away  from  his 
post  all  the  while,  of  course,  and  when  he  comes 
back  he  is  discovered  to  have  been  away  from  the 
post  of  duty.  He  says,  "Here  is  the  bunch  of 
flowers  I  went  to  get ;  "  but  I  hear  his  officer  say, 
."To  obey  is  better  than  that;  we  cannot  allow 
you — military  discipline  would  not  permit  it  —  to 
run  off  at  every  whim  and  wish  of  yours  ami  neglect 
your  duty,  for  who  knows  what  mischief  might 
ensue?"  The  man,  however  much  you  miglit 
admire  what  he  was  doing,  would  certainly  be  made 
to  learn  by  military  law  that  "To  obey  is  better 
than  sacrifice."  It  is  a  holier  and  a  better  thing  to 
do  one's  duty  than  to  make  duties  for  one's  sell  and 
then  set  about  them.  — Spurgeon. 

VI.  ISA    GRADUAL  ATTAINMENT. 
(3615.)  Obedience  to  the  law  of  God  is  a  gradual 

attainment.     It  is  a  thing  learned. 

The  musician  is  not  born  with  the  ability  to  play 
the  organ  or  any  other  instrument.  Many  persons 
possess  an  innate  musical  faculty  ;  but  not  one  could 
do  anything  in  music  without  education  and  without 
training.  And  so,  although  we  have  our  spiritual 
natures,  our  innate  tendencies  to  things  virtuous 
and  good,  they  are  all  obliged  to  conform  to  this 
law  of  education,  training,  drill.  — Beecher. 

VII.  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  TRUE  AND 
ACCEPTABLE  OBEDIENCE. 

1.  Accordance  with  the  will  of  God. 

(3616.)  If  we  would  please  God,  we  must  in  the 
first  place  deny  ourselves  and  our  own  v'ills,  saying 
with  our  Saviour,  "  Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be 
done."  Neitlier  must  we  ask  counsel  of  carnal  rea- 
son, nor,  when  we  know  God's  will,  dispute  with 
flesh  and  blood  whether  it  be  fit  or  unfit,  profitable 
or  unprofitable,  reasonable  or  against  reason,  to  do 
that  which  God  commands,  but  we  must  yield  unto 
it  absolute  obedience,  doing  God's  will  as  the  saints 
and  angels  do  it  in  heaven,  cheerfully  and  readily, 
without  gainsaying,  doubting,  or  replying.  For 
if  earthly  princes  will  not  endure  to  have  subjects 
scan  their  laws,  nor  examine  their  proclamations 
to  see  with  what  reason  they  command,  but  requir* 


OBEDIENCE. 


(    613     ) 


OBEDIENCE. 


absolute  obedience  in  all  things  not  repugnant  to 
the  law  of  God,  and  will  not  be  served  accoriiing 
to  their  subject's  best  intentions,  but  will  have 
obedience  squared  by  their  laws  ;  if  every  master  in 
a  family  will  be  served  according  to  his  own  plea- 
sure, and  will  not  for  matter  or  manner  leave  it  to 
his  servant's  choice,  to  perform  what  service  best 
suits  with  their  own  humour  and  liking  ;  and  if  the 
captain  of  a  comi  any,  or  general  of  an  aimy,  will 
not  excuse  a  soldier  the  neglect  of  his  commands, 
upon  the  fairest  pretence  :  then  how  much  less  will 
the  King  of  kings  endure  to  have  Ilis  will  neglected, 
ind  ours  preferred  in  His  service?  And  how  much 
Vore  will  He  who  is  the  Lord  of  hosts  be  displeased 
with  us,  if  in  our  spiritual  welfare  we  regard  not 
what  He  commands,  but  perform  such  service  as 
best  suits  with  our  own  conceits?  "No  man  that 
warreth,"  says  the  Apostle,  "entangleth  himself 
with  the  affairs  of  this  lile,  that  lie  may  please  him 
who  hath  chosen  him  to  be  a  soldier  ;  and  if  a  man 
strive  for  masteries,  yet  is  he  not  crowned,  except 
he  strive  lawlully  ;"  that  is,  according  totheordeis 
appointed  by  him  who  is  mastei  of  the  games. 
And  therefore  let  us  not  think  to  have  the  crown 
and  garland  of  happiness,  if  we  stint  God  of  this 
royalty  and  privilcLje  which  we  give  unto  men,  not 
striving  for  the  victory  according  to  His  will,  nor 
oflering  unto  Him  iliat  service  which  /I'if  requires, 
but  such  as  seems  good  in  our  own  eyes. 

— Doivname,  1644. 

(3617.)  In  all  true  service  of  God  it  is  essential 
that  we  serve  Him  in  the  way  of  JHs  appoiiitiiic-nt. 
You  would  be  grievously  plagued  if  you  had  in  your 
house  a  woman  who  \\as  continually  running  up 
and  down  staiis,  roaming  into  every  room,  opening 
every  closet,  moving  this  piece  of  furniture  and 
dusting  that,  and  generally  keeping  up  a  per- 
petual stir  and  worry  ;  you  would  not  call  this  ser- 
vice, but  annoyance.  AH  that  is  done  contrary  to 
orders  is  disobetiience,  not  service  ;  and  if  anything 
be  done  without  orders,  it  may  be  excessive  activity, 
but  it  certainly  is  not  service.  — Spurgeon. 

2.  It  is  all-compreliensive, 

(3618.)  An  instrument,  if  only  one  string  be  out 
of  tune,  although  the  rest  be  well  set,  yet  that  one 
keeps  such  a  jarring  and  haish  sound,  that  the 
lesson  played  thereon  will  relish  as  unmusically,  in 
a  skilful  ear,  as  if  all  the  strings  were  out  of  tune. 
And  thus,  if  a  man  should  abstain  from  swearing 
and  drunkenness,  yet  if  he  were  given  to  lust,  or 
if  from  those  three,  and  yet  addicted  to  covetous- 
ness,  it  comes  all  to  one  reckoning.  Let  every  man, 
therefore,  look  into  his  bosom  sin,  observing  dili- 
gently that  one  jarring  string,  and  never  leave  screw- 
ing and  winding  of  it  up  till  it  be  brought  into  right 
tune  ;  and  if  that  cannot  be  effected,  break  it,  pluck 
it  out  :  for  God  will  have  a  complete  harmonious 
consent,  a  resolution  for  universal  obedience — 
otherwise,  no  acceptance.  — Cheshire,  1641. 

(3619.)  A  carnal  heart  is  contented  to  go  so  far 
in  God's  commands  as  will  serve  his  own  turn,  but 
there  he  stops.  So  far  as  might  serve  the  elevation 
of  Jehu  to  the  crown  of  Israel,  to  setting  him  on 
the  throne,  so  far  he  goes  in  the  ways  of  God's 
command,  but  no  farther.  Such  a  heart  is  like  the 
hand  of  a  rusty  dial ;  suppose  the  hand  of  a  rusty 
dial  (as  now)  at  ten  o'clock  ;  look  upon  it,  and  it 
seems  to  go  right,  but  it  is  not  from  any  inwa'd 


right  state  of  the  clock  it  does  so,  but  by  accident ; 
for  stay  till  after  ten,  and  come  again  at  eleven  or 
twelve,  and  it  stands  still  as  before  at  ten.  So  let 
God  command  anything  that  may  hit  with  a  man's 
own  ends,  and  be  suitable  to  hmi,  and  he  seems  to 
be  very  obedient  to  God  ;  but  let  God  go  on  further, 
and  require  something  that  will  not  serve  his  turn, 
that  will  not  agree  with  his  own  ends;  and  here 
God  may  seek  lor  a  servant  ;  as  for  him,  he  will  go 
no  farther.  — Bia-roughs,  1599-1646. 

{3620.)  God  will  be  served  with  the  whole  heart ; 
for  all  our  good  is  in  God,  and  therefore  all  our 
hearts  must  make  out  after  God.  God  must  have 
perfect  obeitience  in  the  desire  and  endeavour,  or 
else  He  will  have  none.  Certainly  that  which 
must  make  any  man  acceptable,  is  not  so  much 
that  there  is  somewhat  done,  but  that  that  which 
God  commands  is  done,  or  done  in  regard  of  the 
endeavour ;  for  that  indeed  will  be  acceptable : 
though  we  cannot  do  all  at  once,  if  we  bring  some- 
what to  God  as  a  part,  and  acknowledging  the 
whole  debt,  work  for  the  remainder,  it  will  be 
accepted.  As  suppose  a  man  owes  you  an  hundred 
pounds,  and  brings  you  but  fifty  in  part  of  payment, 
yet  if  he  acknowledge  the  rest,  and  promise  the 
payment  of  it,  if  you  know  he  will  be  faithful  in 
the  payment  of  the  other,  you  will  accept  it  ;  but 
if  a  man  bring  you  fourscore  pounds  in  iieu  of  all, 
you  will  not  accept  it.  So  here  it  is  ;  hypocrites 
say  they  cannot  be  perfect  in  this  v\orld,  and  so 
think  to  put  off  God  with  a  little.  It  is  true,  if 
thou  hadst  an  upright  heart,  and  didst  bring  God 
but  part  and  labour  after  the  whole.  He  would 
accept  it ;  but  if  thou  bringst  Him  ten  times  more 
than  a  sincere  heart  can  bring  Him,  it  will  not 
be  acceptable,  no,  not  ninety-nine  pounds  will  be 
accepted,  if  brought  instead  of  the  whole. 

— Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

(3621.)  It  is  a  sure  sign  of  hvpocrisy  to  be  un- 
rif'hteous  and  careless  in  civil  dealings,  how  con- 
scientious soever  thou  mayest  seem  to  be  in  sacred 
duties.  He  that  seems  rightfeous  towards  men,  and 
is  irreligious  towards  God,  is  but  an  honest  heather. ; 
and  he  that  seems  religious  towards  God,  and  is 
unrighteous  towards  men,  is  but  a  dissembling 
Christian.  To  make  conscience  of  one  duty,  and 
not  of  another,  is  to  make  true  conscience  of 
neither.  The  soul  that  ever  had  communion  with 
God  above,  comes  down  like  Moses  out  of  the 
Mount  with  both  tables  in  his  hands,  the  second  as 
well  as  the  first,  the  first  as  well  as  the  second. 
One  stone  in  a  mill,  one  oar  in  a  boat,  will  do  little 
good  ;  there  must  be  two,  or  no  work  can  be  done, 
A  perfect  man  consists  of  two  essential  parts,  a 
soul  and  a  botly  ;  though  the  soul  be  the  princijml, 
and  doth  speciticate  the  compound,  yet  the  body  is 
so  necessary,  that  without  it  none  can  be  a  complett 
man.  A  Christian  that  is  evangelically  "perfect," 
is  also  made  up  of  these  two  parts — holiness  and 
rii;hteousi!ess  ;  though  holiness  be  the  chief,  as  that 
which  doth  difference  the  saint,  yet  righteousness  is 
so  requisite,  that  there  can  be  no  true  Christian 
without  it,  — Sviinnock,  1673, 

{3622.)  'Visibility  and  universality  are  Popish 
marks  of  a  true  Church,  and  Protestant  marks  of  a 
true  Christian.  An  hypocritical  Jehu  will  do 
"some  things;"  a  murderous  Herod  will  do 
*'many  things;"  but  an  upright  Paul  is  "in  all 


OBEDIENCE. 


(    614    ) 


OBEDIENCE. 


things  willing  to  live  honestly."  A  ship  that  is 
not  of  the  right  make  cannot  sail  trim,  and  a  clock 
whose  spring  is  faulty  will  not  aKvays  ^o  true  ;  so 
a  person  of  unsound  principles  cannot  be  constant 
and  even  in  his  practices.  The  religion  of  those 
that  are  inwardly  rotten,  is  like  a  fire  in  some  cold 
climates,  which  almost  fries  a  man  iiefore,  when  at 
the  same  time  he  is  freezing  behind  ;  they  are 
zealous  in  some  things,  as  holy  duties,  which  are 
cheap,  and  cold  in  other  things,  especially  when 
they  cross  their  profit  or  credit;  as  Mount  Hecla 
is  covered  with  snow  on  one  side,  when  it  burns 
and  casts  out  cinders  on  the  other  :  but  the  holiness 
of  them  that  are  sound  at  heart  is  like  the  iiaiurai 
heat, — though  it  resorts  most  to  the  vitals  of  sacred 
performances,  yet,  as  need  is,  it  warms  ami  has  an 
influence  upon  all  the  outward  parts  of  civil  trans- 
actions. It  may  be  said  of  true  sanctity,  as  of  the 
sun,  "there  is  nothing  hid  from  tb.e  heat  thereof." 
When  all  the  parts  of  the  body  have  their  due 
nourishment  distributetl  to  them,  it  is  a  sign  of  a 
healthy  temper.  As  the  saint  is  described  some- 
times by  a  "clean  heart,"  so  also  sometimes  by 
"clean  hands,"  because  he  has  both  ;  the  holiness 
of  his  heart  is  seen  at  his  fingers'  ends. 

— Swimiock,  1 673. 

(3623.)  Herein  is  religion  best  seen,  in  an  equal 
and  uniform  practice  of  every  part  of  our  duty  : 
not  only  in  serving  God  devoutly,  but  in  demeaning 
ourselves  peaceably  and  justly, kindly  and  chatitabiy, 
towards  all  men  ;  not  only  in  restraining  ourselves 
from  the  outward  act  of  sin,  but  in  mortifying  the 
inward  inclination  to  it,  in  subduing  our  lusts,  and 
governing  our  passions,  and  bridling  our  tongues. 
As  he  that  wouki  have  a  prudent  care  of  his  health 
and  life,  must  not  only  guard  himself  against  the 
chief  and  common  diseases  which  are  incident  to 
men,  and  take  care  to  prevent  them,  but  must  like- 
wise be  careful  to  preserve  himself  from  those  which 
are  esteemed  less  dangerous,  but  yet  sometimes  do 
prove  mortal :  he  must  not  only  endeavour  to  secure 
his  head  and  heart  from  being  wounded,  but  must 
have  a  tender  care  of  every  part ;  there  being  hardly 
any  disease  or  wound  so  slight,  but  that  some  have 
died  of  it.  In  like  manner,  the  care  of  our  souls 
consists  in  a  universal  regard  to  our  duty,  and  that 
we  be  defective  in  no  part  of  it  :  though  we  ought 
to  have  a  more  especial  regard  to  those  duties  which 
are  more  considerable,  antl  wherein  religion  doth 
mainly  consist  ;  as  piety  towards  God,  temperance 
and  chastity  in  regard  to  ourselves,  charity  towards 
the  poor,  truth  and  justice,  goodness  and  kindness 
towards  all  men  :  but  then  no  other  grace  and 
virtue,  though  of  an  inferior  rank,  ought  to  be 
neglected  by  us.  — Titlotson,  1630- 1694. 

(3624.)  Some  will  obey  partially,  obey  some  com- 
mandments, not  others  ;  like  a  plough  which,  when 
it  comes  to  a  stiff  piece  of  earth,  makes  a  baulk. 
But  God  that  spake  all  the  words  of  the  moral  law, 
will  have  all  obeyed.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3625.)  A  good  Christian  is  like  a  pait  of  com* 
passes,  one  foot  of  the  compass  stands  upon  the 
centre,  and  the  other  foot  of  it  goes  round  the 
circle  ;  so  a  Christian  by  faith  stands  on  God  the 
centre,  and  by  obedience  goes  round  the  circle  of 
Ciod's  commandments.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3626.)  An  attention  to  one  part  will  not  prove 
our  sincerity.     It  is  an  ancient  song,  you  must  keep 


minim  time,  or  else  you  will  put  the  whole  choir 
out  of  tune,  so  look  that  you  sing  tb.e  new  song  of 
the  Lord  v\iih  trembling  and  accurate  observation 
— miss  neither  cleff  nor  note,  neither  sound  doctrine 
nor  pious  practice.  Christ  and  His  truth  will  not 
divide  ;  and  His  truth  hath  not  latitude  and  breailth, 
that  ye  may  take  some  of  it,  and  leave  some  of  it  ; 
nay,  tlie  Gospel  is  like  a  small  hair  that  hath  no 
breadth,  and  will  not  cleave  in  two ;  it  is  not 
possible  to  twist  and  compound  a  m.ilter  betwixt 
Christ  and  Antichrist  ;  and,  therefore,  ye  must  either 
be  for  Christ,  or  ye  must  be  against  Him.  You 
must  give  Him  an  absolute  obedience,  or  it  is  just 
nothing.  — SaLer, 

3.  It  is  unquestioning. 

(3627.)  Men,  having  an  express  commandment 
in  God's  Word  to  do  thus  and  thus,  must  not  gain- 
say and  overthrow  all  with  their  own  worUlly  wis- 
dom and  fleshly  reason.  Obedience  must  be  no 
disputant,  no  framer  of  excuses.  If  the  captain 
command  a  soldier  a  piece  of  service,  must  he  tell 
him  why?  Is  it  not  enough  for  the  centurion  to 
say  to  his  servant,  '^  J)o  this,  ami  he  doeth  it  V 
Must  the  subject  obey  his  prince  in  nothing,  but 
when  he  is  of  his  council  ?  But  if  with  men  it  weie 
so,  yet  with  God  it  may  not  so  be,  of  whom  it  is 
sufficient  for  us  but  to  know  that  we  are  commaadtd 
to  obey  whatsoever  His  will  and  pleasure  is. 

—  Spencer,  1658. 

(3628.)  You  pretend  also  to  sincere  obedience. 
If  we  ask  you  whether  you  are  willing  to  obey  God  ? 
you  will  say,  "Ciod  forbid  that  any  should  deny  it." 
But  when  it  comes  to  the  particulars,  and  you  find 
that  He  commandeth  you  that  which  flesh  and  blood 
is  against,  and  would  cost  you  the  loss  of  worldly 
prosperity,  then  you  will  be  excused  ;  and  yet,  that 
you  may  cheat  your  souls,  you  will  not  professedly 
disobey  ;  but  you  will  persuade  yourselves  that  it  is 
00  tluty,  and  that  God  would  not  have  you  do  that 
which  you  will  not  do.  Like  a  countryman's  servant, 
that  promises  to  do  all  his  master  bids  him  ;  but 
when  he  cometh  to  particulars,  tlireshing  is  too  hard 
work,  and  mowing  and  reaping  are  beyond  his 
strength,  and  ploughing  is  too  toilsome ;  and  in 
conclusion,  it  is  only  an  idle  life,  some  easy  chars, 
that  he  will  be  brought  to.  '1  his  is  the  hypocrite's 
obedience.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3629.)  The  tendency  of  our  minds  is  to  the  ask- 
ing a  reason  for  everything.  It  is  so  with  doctrines. 
God  reveals  to  us  a  truth  :  but  we  are  not  content 
to  take  it  on  the  authority  of  revelation  ;  we  are  for 
asking  with  Nicodemus,  "How  can  these  things 
be?"  we  want  to  be  able  to  explain  the  doctrine, 
and  thus  to  find  grounds  for  our  belief,  over  and 
above  the  simple  wonl  of  the  Lord.  But  undoubt- 
edly it  is  a  higher,  and  must  be  a  more  acceptablei 
exercise  of  faith,  when  we  receive  a  truth,  because 
revealed,  than  when,  because,  besides  being  revealed, 
we  can  so  arrange  it  that  commends  itself  to  out 
reason. 

It  is  the  same  with  commandments.  God  enjoins 
a  certain  thing  :  but  ue  can  hardly  bring  ourselves 
to  obey,  simply  because  He  has  enjoined  it.  We 
have  our  inquiries  to  urge — why  has  He  enjoined  it  T 
if  it  be  an  indifferent  thing,  we  want  to  know 
why  He  should  have  made  it  the  subject  of  Ikw  ? 
why  not  have  let  it  alone?  Why  not?  Because  we 
may  venture  reply,  He  wishes  to  test  the  principle 
of  obedience  :  He  wishes  to  i^ee  whether  His  will 


OBEDIENCE. 


(    615     ) 


OBEDIENCE. 


and  His  word  are  sufficient  for  us.  In  order  to  this, 
He  mu5i  legislate  upon  tilings  which  in  tliemselves 
are  intlilTen^nt,  neither  morally  good  nor  morally 
bail  :  He  must  not  conline  laws  to  such  matters  as 
robbing  a  neighbour's  house,  on  \«liich  conscience  is 
urgent;  He  nmst  extend  tiiem  to  such  matters  as 
taking  a  bird's  nest,  on  which  conscience  is  silent. 

It  is  the  same  as  with  a  child.  He  is  walking  in 
a  stranger's  garden,  and  you  forbid  his  picking  Iruit  :, 
he  knows  tliat  the  fruit  is  not  liis,  and  therelore  feels 
a  reason  for  the  prohil)ition.  But  he  is  walking  on 
a  common,  and  you  forbid  liis  jiicking  wild  tlowers  ; 
he  knows  that  no  one  has  property  in  tliese  flowers, 
and  therefore  lie  cannot  see  any  reason  for  your  pro- 
hibition. Suppose  him,  however,  to  obey  in  both 
cases,  abstaining  alike  from  the  flowers  and  the  fiuit, 
in  whicii  case  does  lie  show  most  of  the  principle  of 
obedience,  most  of  respect  for  your  authority  and  of 
sul)mission  to  your  will  ?  Surely,  when  he  does  not 
touch  the  flowers,  which  he  sees  no  reason  for  not 
touching,  rather  than  when  he  does  not  gather  the 
fruit  which  he  feels  that  he  can  have  no  right  to  gather. 

It  is  e.xactly  tlie  same  with  God  and  ourselves. 
He  may  forbid  things  whicli  we  should  have  felt  to 
be  wrong  even  had  they  not  been  forbidden  :  He  may 
forbid  things  which  we  should  not  have  felt  wrong, 
nay,  which  would  not  have  been  wrong  unless  He 
had  forbidden  them.  But  in  which  case  is  our 
obedience  most  put  to  the  proof?  not  surely  as  to 
the  thing  criminal  even  without  a  commandment, 
but  as  to  the  thing  indifferent  till  there  was  a  com- 
mandment. God  might  have  made  it  the  test  of 
Adam's  oljedience  that  he  should  not  kill  Eve — a 
Clime  from  which  he  would  have  instinctively  re- 
volted :  but  it  was  a  much  greater  trial  that  he 
should  not  eat  of  a  particular  fiuit,  for  eating  it  was 
no  crime  till  he  was  told  not  to  eat  it. 

And  we  may  justly  believe  that,  in  constructing 
the  Jewish  code,  God  interspersed  laws  for  which 
there  was  no  a[)parent  reason,  with  others  for  which 
there  was  paliiable,  on  purpose  that  He  might  see 
whether  His  people  would  obey  His  word,  simply 
because  it  was  His  word?  whether  they  would  wait 
to  know  why  He  commanded,  or  be  satisfied  with 
ascertaining  what  He  commanded.         — Milvill. 

(3630.)  "Sir,"  said  the  Duke  of  Wellington  to 
an  officer  of  engineers,  who  urgeil  the  impossibility 
of  executing  the  directions  he  had  received,  "  1  did 
not  ask  your  opinion,  I  gave  you  my  oiiicrs,  and  I 
expect  them  to  be  obeyed."  Such  should  be  the 
obedience  of  every  follower  of  Jesus  The  words 
which  He  has  spoken  are  our  law,  not  our  judg- 
ments 01  fancies.  Even  if  death  were  in  die  way 
it  is — 

"  Not  ours  to  leason  wliy — 

Ours,  but  10  dare  and  die;** 

and,  at  our  Master's  bidding,  advance  through  flood 
or  flame.  — S/mtgton. 

4.  It  is  prompt. 

(3631.)  "Straightway"  (Matt.  iv.  2o).  True 
cbedience  knows  no  delays.    — jfirovie,  340-420. 

6.  It  Is  exact.  * 

(3632.)  In  religion  no  part  is  to  be  called  little. 
A-  hair  is  but  little  ;  yet  it  hath  a  shadow.  In  the 
body  a  little  disquiet  is  oftentimes  cause  of  death. 
Theciniphes  'Exod.  viii.  17,  18)  were  but  little  ;  yet 
are  they  reckoned  among  the  gre.it  plagues  of  God. 
Metellus,  a  nobleman  of  Rome,  by  receiving  a  hair 


in  his  milk  was  choked  with  it,  and  died  thereof. 
Some  things  are  small  and  do  no  hurt:  somethings, 
though  they  be  small,  do  great  hurt.  Therefore 
doth  God  straitly  charge  His  people  to  keep  the 
law,  saying,  "'Ihou  slialt  not  turn  away  lioin  it, 
neither  to  the  riglit  hand  nor  to  tiie  left."  And  St 
Paul  saith  :  "A  little  leaven  leavenelh  the  whole 
lump."  — Jewel,  1522-1571. 

6.  It  Is  cheerful. 

(3633.)  True  obedience  hath  no  lead  at  its  heels, 
— Adatns,  1653. 

(3634.)  Sincerity  makes  the  soul  willing.  When 
it  is  clogged  with  so  many  mtirmilies  as  to  disable 
it  from  the  full  periormance  of  its  duty,  yet  then  the 
soul  stands  on  tip-toes  to  be  gone  after  it ;  as  the 
hawk  Ujion  the  hand,  as  soon  as  ever  it  sees  her 
game,  launcheth  forth,  and  would  be  upon  the 
wing  after  it,  though  possibly  held  by  its  sheath  to 
the  fist.  Thus  the  sincere  soul  is  inwardly  pricked 
and  provoked  by  a  stiong  desire  after  its  duty, 
though  kept  back  by  intirmities.  A  perfect  heart 
and  a  willing  mind  are  joined  together  ;  'tis  David's 
counsel  to  his  son  Solomon,  to  serve  God  with  a 
perfect  heart  and  a  willing  mind. 

—  Gurnall,  16 17- 1679. 

(3635.)  May  be  when  the  sincere  soul  is  about  a 
duty  he  doth  it  weakly,  yet  this  very  willingness  of 
the  heart  is  woiiderlul  pleasing  to  God.  How  doth 
it  affect  and  take  the  father,  when  he  bids  his  little 
child  go  and  bring  him  such  a  thing  (that  may  be 
as  much  as  he  can  well  lift),  to  see  him  not  stand 
and  shrug  at  the  command  as  hard,  but  runs  to 
it  and  puts  forth  his  whole  strength  about  it  ! 
Though  at  last  may  be  he  cannot  do  it,  yet  the 
willingness  of  the  child  pleascth  h.m  so,  that  his 
weakness  rather  stirs  up  tne  father  to  pity  and  help 
him,  than  to  provoke  him  to  chide  him.  Christ 
throws  this  covering  over  His  disciples'  infitmities, 
"  The  spirit  is  -Milling,  but  the  flesh  is  weak."  Oh  ! 
this  obedience,  that  like  the  dropping  honey,  comes 
without  squeezing,  though  but  little  of  it,  tastes 
svs'eetly  on  God's  palate  ;  and  such  is  sincere  obedi- 
ence. —  Gurnall,  161 7- 1679. 

(3636.)  Serve  God  with  gladness  and  cheerful- 
ness of  heart,  as  one  that  hath  found  the  way  of 
li:e,  and  never  had  cause  of  gladness  until  now. 
If  you  see  your  servant  do  all  his  work  with  gioans, 
and  tears,  and  lamentations,  you  will  not  think  that 
he  is  well  pleased  with  his  master  and  Ins  work. 
Baxter,  16 15- 1691. 

(3637.)  Obey  God  willingly  (Isa.  i.  19).  That 
is  the  best  obedience,  that  is  cheerful,  as  that  is  the 
sweetest  honey  which  drops  out  of  the  comb. 

—  IVatson,  1696. 

(3638.)  The  true  obedience  of  faith  is  a  cheerful 
obedience  ;  God's  commands  do  not  seem  grievous. 
What  sny  you  to  this?  Do  you  look  upon  God's 
command  as  your  burden,  or  privilege  ;  as  an  iron 
fetter  about  your  leg,  or  a  gold  chain  about  your 
neck?  Watson,  1696. 

(3639.)   "I  wish  I  could  mind  God  as  my  little 

dog  minds  me,  '  said  a  little  boy,  looking  thought- 
fully on  his  shaggy  friend;  "he  always  looks  so 
pleased  to  mind,  and  1  don't."  What  a  painful  truth 
did  this  child  speak  !  Shall  the  poor  little  dog  thus 
readily  obey  his  master,  and  we  rebel  against  God, 


OBEDIENCE. 


(    6i6    ) 


PATIENCE. 


who  is  our  Creator,  our  Preserver,  our  Father,  our 
Saviour,  and  the  bountiful  Giver  of  everything  we 
love?  •  — Christian  Treasury. 

I.  It  Is  fervent. 

(3640.)  Obedience  without  fervency  is  like  a 
sacrifice  without  fire.  Why  should  not  our  obedi- 
ence be  lively  and  fervent  ?  God  deserves  the 
flower  and  strength  of  our  affections. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

8.  It  is  sincere. 

(3641.)  Obedience  must  be  sincere.  An  action 
Hvay  look  like  a  friendly  act  when  there  is  nothing 
of  friendship  and  goodwill  in  the  heart.  Every  pre- 
cept requires  not  only  an  outward  but  an  inward 
conformity,  not  only  a  bodily  action  but  a  spiritual 
fiame.  God  would  not  have  the  skin  of  a  sacrifice 
without  the  flesh  and  entrails,  nor  the  carcass  of 
obedience  without  truth  in  the  inward  parts  (Ps.  li. 
6).  Christ  intends  not  only  an  outward  appearance, 
but  respects  the  form  of  every  action.  Duties  are 
not  differenced  by  the  outward  garb,  but  inward 
frame.  Waters  may  have  the  same  colour,  yet  one 
may  be  sweet  and  the  other  brackish.  Two  apples 
may  have  the  same  colour,  yet  one  may  be  a  crab 
and  the  other  of  a  delightful  relish.  A  serpent  has 
a  speckled  skin,  but  an  inward  poison. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

9.  It  Is  prompted  by  love  to  God. 

(3642.)  The  son  of  a  poor  man,  that  hath  not  a 
penny  to  give  or  leave  him,  yields  his  father  obedience 
as  cheerlully  as  the  son  of  a  rich  man,  that  looks 
for  a  great  inheritance.  It  is,  indeed,  love  to  the 
father,  not  wages  from  the  father,  that  is  the  ground 
of  a  good  child's  obedience.  If  there  were  no 
heaven,  God's  children  would  obey  Him,  and 
though  there  weie  no  hell,  yet  would  they  do  their 
duty,  so  powerfully  doth  the  love  of  the  Father 
constrain  them.  — De  Tru^illo. 

10.  It  aims  at  the  glory  of  God. 

(3643-)  'i'wo  things  are  chiefly  to  be  eyed  in 
obedience,  the  principle  and  the  end  :  a  child  of 
God  though  he  shoots  short  in  his  obedience,  yet 
he  takes  a  right  aim.  — Watson,  1696. 

II.  It  is  constant. 

(3644)  Obedience  must  be  constant :  "  Blessed 
is  he  who  doth  righteousness  at  all  times."  True 
obedience  is  not  like  a  high  colour  in  a  fit,  but  is  a 
right  sanguine  :  it  is  like  the  fire  on  the  altar,  which 
was  always  kept  burning  (Lev.  vi.  13).  Hypocrite's 
obedience  is  but  for  a  season  ;  it  is  like  plastering 
work,  which  is  soon  washed  off:  but  true  obedience 
is  constant.  — Watson,  it^^. 

VIII.    ITS  REWARDS, 

1.  Peace  of  conscience. 

(3645.)  Obedience  and  holy  walking  bring  peace  : 
"  Great  peace  have  they  which  love  Tliy  law,  and 
nothing  shall  oflend  them."  As  there  is  peace  in 
nature  when  all  things  keep  their  place  and  order. 
This  peace  others  cannot  have.  There  is  a  differ- 
ence between  a  dead  sea  and  a  calm  sea.  A  stupid 
conscience  they  may  have,  not  a  quiet  conscience. 
The  virtue  of  that  opium  will  soon  be  spent,  con- 
science will  again  be  awakened. 

— Manton,  1620-166'J. 


(3646.)  A  circus  came  to  town;  and  everybody 
knows  how  the  music,  and  the  grand  tent  and 
horses,  set  all  the  little  boys  agoing.  Quarters  ol 
dollars  and  shillings  are  in  great  demand  ;  and 
many  a  choice  bit  of  money  have  the  circus-riders 
carried  away,  which  was  meant  for  better  purposes. 
A  little  boy  was  seen  looking  around  the  premises 
with  a  great  deal  of  curiosity.  "  Halloa,  Johnny!" 
said  a  man  who  knew  him,  "going  to  the  circus?" 
— "  No  sir,"  answered  Johnny  ;  "father  don't  like 
'em." — "Oh  well!  I'll  give  you  money  to  go, 
Johnny,"  said  the  man.  "  Father  don't  approve  of 
them,"  answered  Johnny.  "  Well  go  for  once,  and 
ril  pay  foi  you." — "  No,  sir,"  said  Johnny  ;  "  my 
father  would  give  me  money  if  he  thought  it  were 
best  ;  besides,  I've  got  twenty-five  cents  in  my 
strong  box, — twice  enough  to  go." — "I'd  go, 
Johnny,  for  once  ;  it  is  wonderful  the  way  the 
horses  do,"  said  the  man.  "Your  father  need'nt 
know  it."  —  "I  shan't,"  said  the  boy.  "Now 
why?"  asked  the  man.  "'Cause,"  said  Johnny, 
twirling  his  bare  toes  in  the  sand,  "after  I've  been, 
I  could  not  look  my  father  right  in  the  eye,  and  I 
can  now." 

2.  Comfort  in  deatb. 

(3647.)  The  spiritual  life  is  a  living  to  God,  when 
He  is  made  the  end  of  every  action.  You  have  a 
journey  to  take,  and  whether  you  sleep  or  wake 
your  journey  is  still  agoing.  As  in  a  ship,  whether 
men  sit,  lie,  or  walk,  whether  they  eat  or  sleep, 
the  ship  holds  on  its  course  and  makes  towards 
its  port.  So  you  are  all  going  into  another  world, 
either  to  heaven  or  hell,  the  broad  or  the  narrow 
way  ;  and  then,  do  but  consider  how  comfortaljle  it 
will  be  at  your  journey's  end,  in  a  dying  hour,  to 
have  been  undefiled  in  the  way.  Then  wicked  men 
that  are  defiled  in  the  way  will  wish  they  had  kept 
more  close  and  exact  with  God  ;  even  those  who 
now  wonder  at  the  niceness  and  zeal  of  others,  when 
they  see  that  they  must  in  earnest  enter  into  another 
world  ;  oh,  then,  that  they  had  been  more  exact 
and  watchful,  and  stuck  closer  to  the  rule  in  their 
practice,  discourses,  compliances  !  Men  will  have 
other  notions  then  of  holiness  than  they  ever  had 
before  ;  oh,  then  they  will  wish  that  they  had  been 
more  circumspect  !  Christ  commended  the  unjust 
steward  for  remembering  that  in  time  he  should  be 
put  out  of  his  stewardship.  You  will  all  fail  within 
a  little  while  ;  then  your  poor,  shiftless,  naked  souls 
must  launch  out  into  another  world,  and  immedi- 
ately come  to  God  :  how  comfortable  will  it  be 
then  to  have  walked  closely  according  to  the  line 
of  obedience  I  — Manton,  1620-1667. 


PATIENCE. 

I.    NATURE  OF  TRUE  PATIENCE. 

1.  It  Is  neither  ignorant  nor  apathetic. 

(3648.)  Some  you  shall  see  very  still  and  quiet  in 
affliction,  yet  mere  strangers  to  this  peace,  ignorant 
of  Christ  the  peace-maker,  walking  in  opposition  to 
the  terms  God  offers  peace  in  the  gospel  upon,  and 
yet  very  calm  in  affliction.  Certainly  all  is  not 
right  with  this  poor  creature  ;  if  he  had  any  sense 
how  it  is  with  him,  he  would  have  little  patience  to 
see  himself  under  the  hand  of  God,  and  not  know 
but  it  may  leave  him  in  hell  before  it  hath  done  with 
him.     When  I  see  one  run  over  stones  and  hard  way 


PA  TIENCE. 


(     617     ) 


PA  TIENCE. 


barefoot,  and  not  complain,  I  do  not  admire  his 
patience,  but  pity  the  poor  creature  that  hath  be- 
numbed his  feet,  and  as  it  were  soled  them  with  a 
brawny  dead  Icind  of  flesh,  so  as  to  lose  his  feeling  : 
but  save  your  pity  muc'n  more  for  those  whose  con- 
sciences are  so  benumiied,  and  hearts  petrified  into 
a  senseless  stupidity,  that  they  feel  their  misery  no 
more  than  the  stone  doth  the  mason's  saw  which 
cuts  it  asunder.  Of  all  men  out  of  hell,  none  more 
to  be  pitied,  than  he  that  hangs  over  the  mouth  of 
it,  and  yet  is  fearless  of  his  danger  ;  while  thus  the 
poor  wretch  is  incapable  of  all  means  for  his  good. 
What  good  does  physic  put  into  a  dead  man's 
mouth?  if  he  cannot  be  chafed  to  s<ime  sense  of 
his  condition,  all  applications  are  in  vain.  And  if 
afllictions  (which  are  the  strongest  physic)  leave  tlie 
cnature  senseless,  there  is  little  hope  left  that  any 
other  will  work  upon  him. 

— Gurnall,  i6i 7-1679. 

(3649.)  Nor  are  we  to  take  for  this  Christian 
grace  the  callousness  which  sometimes  follows  trials 
of  great  severity.  They  say  that  tlie  wretch  coii- 
demned  to  the  Russian  knout  feels  only  the  few 
first  blows.  After  these  have  cut  to  the  bone,  and 
brought  away  long  stripes  of  flesh  from  his  quiver- 
ing back,  the  power  to  feel  is  gone.  The  nerves 
are  crushed,  their  life  destroyed  ;  his  head  droops, 
and  the  lash  falls  on  the  dying  man  as  if  he  were 
already  dead.  And  some  such  calli)usness  has 
come  over  hearts  that  have  suffered  many  and 
severe  afflictions;  future  tiials  giving  them  no 
more  pain  than  the  hot  iron  gives  the  blacksmith's 
horny  hand.  I  once  knew  one,  a  Christian  widow, 
who  had  early  lost  the  husband  of  her  youth. 
Other  losses  succeeded.  The  pledges  of  their  love, 
a  son  and  daughter,  were  snatched  from  her  arms  ; 
her  house  was  left  unto  her  desolate.  But  these 
blows  did  not,  as  many  feared,  break  that  bruised 
reed.  A  pious  woman,  she  was  patient,  resigned 
to  the  vi'ill  of  the  widow's  Husband  ;  still  it  was 
not  patience  that  replied  to  my  sympathy,  when, 
ftllu'iing  to  her  first  gieat  trial,  she  said,  "  My  first 
grief  made  so  large  a  hole  in  my  heart,  that  now  it 
can  hold  no  common  sorrow.  — Guthrie. 

2.  It  is  not  stubborn. 

(3650. )  Some  bear  their  sufferings  as,  if  we  are 
to  believe  the  stories  we  have  read,  the  Indian 
bears  his  tortures.  Tied  to  the  stake,  abaniioned 
of  hope,  looking  on  his  last  sun,  a  crowd  of  enemies 
dance  round  him  with  frantic  gestures  and  bran- 
dished knives  ;  and  they  go  round  and  round  in  the 
horrid  dance,  though  avoiding  to  wound,  they  strike 
at  his  throat  and  face  ;  but  the  red  man  stands 
moiionless,  erect  :  nor  shrinks,  nor  winks,  nor  gives 
sign  of  terror.  Ingeniously  cruel,  they  seaich  out 
the  most  delicate  seats  of  feeling,  and  thrust  the 
burning  match  up  to  the  quick.  Inch  by  inch  they 
cut  his  living  form  to  pieces  ;  but,  with  blood,  they 
wring  out  no  groan  from  that  defiant  man.  Naming 
their  braves  he  has  slain  and  scalped  in  the  battle, 
this  hero  of  the  forest  sings  his  bold  death-song, 
scorning  their  powers  of  torture.  How  different 
from  the  o^i  val  object  in  this  savage  scene  the  form 
of  Christian  patience,  her  head  meekly  bowing  to 
the  hand  of  God  ;  heaven  in  her  eye  ;  resignation 
in  her  face  ;  and  on  her  pale  lips  the  seal  of  silence  ! 
It  is  pride,  not  patience,  thus  sustains  yonder 
haughty  savage — stubborn  endurance,  the  power  of 
an  iron  will.     And  in  some  who,  uncomplaining. 


suffer  pain,  or  loss,  or  wrong,  or  calumny,  theii 
silence,  though  they  get  credit  for  patience,  may 
be  but  pride.  It  is  a  well-known  fact,  that  a  man 
who  stands  erect  can  carry  a  heavier  burden  on  his 
head  than  he  can  on  his  back;  and  raising  iiself  to 
the  occasion,  pride  has  stood  erect  under  crushing 
buidens,  confronted  misfortune,  and,  while  smart- 
ing under  insult  and  injuries,  has  scorned  to  gratify 
its  enemies  by  betraying  a  sign  of  pain.  This  is 
but  the  counterfeit  of  patience.  — Cuthiu. 

3.  It  Is  not  ostentatious. 

(3651.)  There  is  a  patience  that  cackles.  There 
are  a  great  many  virtues  that  are  hen-like.  They 
are  virtues,  to  be  sure  ;  but  everybody  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood has  to  know  about  them.       — Beecher. 

II.    ITS  EXCELLENCY. 

(3652.)  They  who  are  wicked,  although  they 
cannot  see  the  goodness  of  other  virtues,  yet  can 
see  the  goodness  of  patience,  and  perceive  when 
they  see  a  patient  man  and  an  impatient  man  both 
sick  of  one  disease,  yet  both  are  not  troubled  alike, 
but  that  he  who  has  most  patience  has  most  ease, 
and  he  who  is  most  impatient  is  most  tormented, 
like  a  fish  which  strives  with  the  hook. 

— Henry  Smith,  1560-1591. 

(3653.)  The  nobleness  of  a  Christian  is  seen  in 
his  patience.  Magnanimity  is  patient  ;  like  the 
flint  which  hath  fire  in  it,  but  it  appears  not  till  it 
be  stricken.  — Adams,  1653. 

(3654.)  Patience  is  the  best  chemist,  for  out  of 
coarse  earth  she  can  draw  pure  gold,  out  of  trouble 
peace,  out  of  sorrow  joy,  out  of  persecution  profit, 
out  of  aflliction  comfort.  She  teachelh  the  bondman 
in  a  narrow  prison  to  enjoy  all  liberty.  He  hath 
within  those  strict  linyts  his  galleries,  his  walks, 
his  orchards  :  though  he  be  alone,  he  never  wants 
company  ;  though  his  diet  be  penury,  his  sauce  is 
content  :  all  his  miseries  cannot  make  him  sick,  be- 
cause they  are  digested  by  patience.  It  makes 
the  poor  beggar  rich  :  though  he  goes  for  his  drink 
to  the  well,  tor  his  bread  to  another's  cupboard,  for 
his  garments  to  the  reluse  of  a  cast  wardrt'be  ;  yet 
he  looks  with  as  cheerful  a  countenance,  as  he  that 
"was  clothed  in  purple,  and  fared  sumptuously 
every  day  :  "  or  he  that  said  to  his  soul,  "  Eat, 
drink,  and  be  merry,"  for  this  man  had  but  a  pur- 
pose to  be  merry,  but  the  patient  man  is  merry 
indeed.  A  superior's  unjust  frowns  are  all  one  to 
him  with  his  flattering  smiles  ;  and  causeless  asper- 
sions do  but  rub  his  glory  the  brighter.  The  jailers 
that  watch  him  are  but  his  pages  uf  honour,  and  his 
very  dungeon  but  the  lower  si<le  of  the  vault  of 
heaven.  He  kisseth  the  wheel  that  must  kill  him  ; 
and  thinks  the  stairs  of  the  scaftold  of  his  martyr- 
dom but  so  many  degrees  of  his  ascent  to  glory. 
The  tormentors  are  weary  of  him,  the  beholders 
have  pity  on  him,  all  men  wonder  at  him  ;  and 
while  he  seems  below  all  men,  below  himself,  he  is 
above  nature.  He  hath  sc  overcome  himself,  that 
nothing  can  conquer  him.  — AJams,  1653. 

(3655.)  Patience  is  the  true  peace-maker.  It  is 
the  soft  answer  that  breaketh  wrath  ;  cross  and 
thwarting  language  rather  strengthens  it  :  as  a  flint 
is  sooner  broken  with  a  gentle  stroke  upon  a  feather 
bed,  than  stricken  with  all  the  might  against  a 
hard  coggle.  — Sanderson,  1 587-1662. 


PA  TIENCE. 


f    6i8    ) 


PA  TIENCE. 


(3656.)  Do  we  desire  to  lighten  our  load  of  sor- 
row ?  ()h  1  there  is  a  buoyancy  and  strength  in  the 
meek  and  patient  s[)irit,  that  bears  it  as  the  ajipoint- 
ment  of  God.  Like  the  branches  of  the  ]iahi),  so 
significant  of  victory,  that  seem  to  develop  an 
elastic  power  in  proportion  to  the  weight  that  is 
laid  upon  them,  it  puts  on  new  strength  under 
every  pressure  of  additional  affliction.  Patience  is 
as  a  case  of  armour  round  the  heart,  which  deadens 
the  blows  inflicted  on  it  ;  while  impatience  not 
only  strips  off  that  covering,  but  lays  tiie  very 
quick,  in  all  its  tenderness  and  delicacy  of  nerve, 
bare  to  the  wounding  knife. 

—  IViseman,  1802- 1864. 

in.    ITS  NECESSITY. 

(3657.)  So  many  things  fall  out  contrary  unto  our 
minds  every  day,  that  he  who  wants  patience  in 
this  world  is  like  a  man  who  stands  trembling  in  a 
field  without  his  armour,  because  every  one  can 
strike  him,  and  he  can  strike  none.  So  the  least 
push  of  pain,  or  loss,  or  disgrace,  troubles  that 
man  more  who  has  not  skill  to  suffer,  than  twenty 
trials  can  move  him  who  is  armed  with  patience, 
like  a  golden  shieM  in  his  hand,  to  break  tiie  stroke 
of  every  cross,  and  save  ilie  heart  though  the  body 
suffers.  For  while  the  heart  is  whole,  all  is  well. 
"A  sound  spirit,"  says  Solomon,  "will  bear  his 
infirmity,  but  a  wounded  spirit  what  can  sustain  ?" 
— Henry  St/iii/i,  1560-1591. 

{3658.)  Every  Christian  soldier's  escutcheon  must 
be  :  "  Patience,"  and  his  motto  :  "I  serve." 

— Adams,  1 653. 

(3659.)  Patience  hath  her  work  too  ;  for  the  most 
godly  conversation  will  be  exercised  svith  troubles. 
Either  the  good  we  would  have  shall  be  deferred, 
or  the  evii  we  would  not  have  shall  be  imposed  ; 
we  shall  mar  all  if  we  lose  our  patience.  The 
same  measure  of  trouble  being  laid  upon  two  men, 
is  far  lighter  to  him  that  bears  it  with  patience. 
Of  how  pure  wood  soever  an  instrument  is  maile,' 
yet  if  it  warp  with  the  sun,  or  crack  with  the 
weather,  we  dislike  it.  Let  us  not  lose  our  credit 
of  the  holiness  by  the  least  murmur  of  impatience. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(3660.)  Patience  to  the  soul  is  as  bread  to  the 
body,  the  staff  of  either  the  natuial  or  spiritual  life  : 
we  eat  breail  with  all  our  meats,  both  for  health 
and  relish  ;  bread  with  flesh,  bread  with  fish,  bread 
with  broths  and  fruits.  Such  is  patience  to  every 
virtue  ;  we  must  hope  with  patience,  and  pray  in 
patience,  and  love  with  patience,  and  wiiatsoever 
good  thing  we  do,  let  it  be  done  in  patience. 

— Auams,  1653. 

(3661.)  If  because  you  are  Christians  you  promise 
yourselves  a  long  lea^e  of  temporal  happiness,  free 
from  troubles  and  afflictions,  it  is  as  if  a  soldier 
goii'g  to  the  wars  should  pronuse  himself  peace  and 
continual  truce  with  the  enemy  :  or  as  if  a  maiiner 
committing  liims-df  to  the  sea  for  a  long  voyage 
should  promise  himself  nothing  but  fair  and  calm 
weather,  without  waves  and  storms  ;  so  irrational 
it  is  for  a  Christian  to  promise  himself  rest  here 
upon  earth.  Well,  then,  let  us  learn  beforehand 
how  to  be  abased,  and  how  to  abound.  He 
that  is  in  a  journey  to  heaven  must  be  provided  for 
all  weathers;  though  it  be  sunshine  v»lien  he  first 
stts    forth,   a    storm  will    overtake   him   before   he 


comes  to  his  journey's  end.  It  is  good  to  be  fore* 
armed,  afflicticm^  will  come,  and  we  should  prepare 
accordingly.  We  enter  upon  the  profession  of  godli- 
ness, upon  these  terms,  to  be  willing  to  suffer 
afflictions  if  the  Lord  see  fit  :  and  therefore  should 
arm  ourselves  with  a  mind  to  endure  tliein,  whether 
they  come  or  no.  — Mattton,  1620-1667. 

(3662.)  The  Christian's  patience  is  his  back  on 
which  he  bears  his  burdens  ;  and  some  afflictions 
are  so  heavy,  that  he  needs  a  broad  one  to  carry 
them  well.  But  if  hoj^e  lay  not  the  pillow  of  the 
promise  between  his  back  and  the  burden,  the 
least  cross  will  prove  intolerable.  It  is  therefore 
called  "  the  patience  of  hope." 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

IV.    ENCOURAGEMENTS  TO  ITS  EXERCISE: 

1.  Under  provocation. 

(3663.)  We  should  prevent  reproach  as  much  as 
we  can  ;  but  then  we  must  bear  it  when  we  cannot 
avoid  it.  God  will  try  how  we  can  bear  the  injuries 
of  men.  The  grace  of  patience  must  be  tried  as  well 
as  other  graces.  We  read  that  Shimei  went  railing 
upon  David  to  the  peril  of  his  life.  Saith  David,  "  It 
may  be  (jod  hath  bid  him  curse."  A  mad  dog  that 
bites  another  makes  him  as  mad  as  himself.  So 
usually  the  injuries  and  reproaches  of  others  foster 
up  our  revenge,  and  then  there  is  no  difference  be- 
tween them  and  us.  They  sin,  and  we  sin.  Revenge 
and  injury  differ  only  in  order  ;  injury  is  first,  and 
revenge  is  next.  .Saith  Lactantius,  "  If  it  be  evil  in 
another,  for  thee  to  imitate  him,  to  be  mad  as  he, 
tohreak  out  in  passion  and  virulency,  it  is  more  evil 
in  thyself,  because  thou  sinnest  twice,  against  a  rule 
and  against  an  example."  — Maiiion,  1020-1667. 

2.  Under  persecution. 

( I . )   linpotieitce  will  but  aggravate  our  misery. 

(3664.)  When  a  bird  comes  to  be  immured  in 
the  cage,  being  taken  from  its  natural  range  in  the 
air  and  tlie  woods,  and  liegins  10  feel  the  injury  of 
a  restraint  and  the  closeness  of  a  prison,  it  strives 
anti  flutters  to  recover  its  native  liberty  ;  and  per- 
haps with  striving  breaks  a  v\ing  or  a  leg,  and  so 
pines  away  :  anti  after  all  this  unquietness,  is  yet 
forced  at  last  to  die  in  the  cage. 

It  is  so  with  a  person  overpowered  in  his  right, 
and  bereaved  of  it  by  those  with  whom  he  cannot 
gra[iple.  Christianity  ami  reason  command  him 
not  here  to  labour  in  vain,  but  to  make  a  virtue  of 
necessity  and  to  acquiesce,  ex|)ecting  the  isiues  of 
Providence,  which  disposes  ol  things  by  a  rule 
known  only  to  itself.  And  by  so  doing  a  man  is  no 
worse  than  he  was  before;  but  ihe  peace  is  main- 
tained, and  the  rewards  of  patience  may  be  well 
expected.  — bouth,   1033-1716. 

(2.)  Persecution  affords  an  o/^/>ortunUy  for  Iht 
display  of  uitr  Christum  graces. 

(3665.)  This  is  the  true  valour  of  a  Christian, 
when  he  can  bear  his  cross  wiihout  murmuring, 
overrule  his  own  nature  drawing  him  ti»  revenge, 
return  benefits  for  injuries,  and  overcome  evil  with 
goodness,  according  to  the  example  of  our  Heavenly 
Father.  Then  he  shows  his  lortitude,  and  most 
gloriously  triumphs  over  his  s]uriiual  enemies,  wnen 
he  vanquishes  without  striking,  and  though  unarmed 
of  all  olfensive  weapons  doih  courageously  march 
into  the  field,  having  nothing  in  his  hand  but  the 
shield  of  patience,  and  by  bcarin|;  the  blows  gets 


PA  TIENCE. 


(    619     ) 


PA  TIENCE. 


Ihe  {jreater  victory.  Then  he  shows  his  valour  and 
unmalchable  strength,  when  like  a  firm  rock  he 
stands  in  a  sea  of  miseries,  and,  when  tjie  huge 
billows  of  afiliction  beat  upon  him,  is  not  moved, 
but  breaks  tiiein  in  pieces  with  their  own  violence. 
Finally,  then  dotli  Christian  prowess  and  magna- 
nimity appear,  when  we  keep  our  standing,  as  it 
were  daring  atllictioiis  after  one  assault  to  encounter 
us  again  ;  ami  with  unwearied  and  invincible  con- 
stancy continue  the  fight,  till,  o-ir  enemies  being 
overcome,  our  great  commander  the  Lord  of  hosts 
sounds  the  retreat,  eitiier  giving  us  the  warrant  of 
His  word  for  our  leaving  the  field,  or  calling  us  by 
death  to  receive  that  glorious  crown  of  victory. 

— Doxvname,  1644. 

(3.)  It  only  befalls  us  by  God's  permission,  and 
for  our  good, 

{3666.)  Joseph  said  to  his  brethren,  "You  did 
intend  me  hurt,  but  God  did  intend  me  good." 
So  it  may  be  said  concerning  all  ungoilly,  wicked 
men  :  they  do  intend  evil  against  the  Church  and 
people  ot  God,  but  Clod  intends  His  people's  good, 
and,  in  conclusion,  effects  it. 

—  W hi  taker,  1647. 

(4.)  God  will  bring  us  triumphantly  out  of  it, 
(3667.)  When  we  see  one  in  the  streets  from 
every  dungiiill  gather  old  pieces  of  rags  and  dirty 
clouts,  little  would  we  think  that  of  those  old  rotten 
rags,  beaten  together  in  the  mill,  there  should  be 
made  such  pure  fine  white  paj^er,  as  afterwards  we 
see  there  is.  Thus  the  poor  despised  ciiildren  of 
God  may  be  cast  out  into  the  world  as  dung  and 
dross,  may  be  smeared  and  smooted  all  over  with 
lying  amongst  the  pots ;  they  may  be  in  tears, 
perhaps  in  blood,  both  broken-hearted  and  broken- 
boned  ;  yet,  for  all  this,  they  are  not  to  despair, 
for  God  vvdl  make  them  one  day  shine  in  joy,  like 
the  bright  stars  of  heaven,  and  make  of  them  royal 
imperial  paper,  whereon  He  will  write  His  own 
name  for  ever.  — Balquanqual,  1634. 

(5.)  The  hour  of  our  deliverance  is  at  hand, 
(3668.)  The  saint's  night  is  darkest  a  little  before 
their  deliverance  ;  as  a  little  before  the  dawning  of 
the  day  the  darkness  is  most  dense  and  terrible. 
80  it  was  in  Egypt  a  little  before  Israel's  deliver- 
ance, and  their  return  from  captivity.  And  this 
should  mightily  encourage  us,  in  these  times,  not  to 
be  ilisheartened  though  our  miseries  shouki  increase, 
for  the  darker  and  the  bigger  the  cloud  is,  it  will 
the  sooner  break  ;  therefore  wait  with  patience. 
— Burroughs,  1599-1646. 

8.  Under  tlie  apparent  delays  of  Providence. 

(3669.)  The  duty  that  David  brought  his  henrt 
to,  belore  he  had  a  lull  enjoyment  of  what  he 
looked  lor,  was  patient  wailing,  it  being  God's  use 
to  put  a  long  date  oltentimes  to  the  performances 
of  His  promises.  David,  after  he  had  the  promise 
of  a  kingdom,  was  put  off  a  long  time  ere  he  was 
invested  to  it  ;  Abraham  \va.-)  an  old  man  before  he 
enjoyed  his  son  of  pron;ise.  Joseph  stayed  a  long 
time  before  he  was  exaJtetl  ;  our  blessed  Saviour 
Himself  was  thirty-four  years  old  beiore  He  was 
exalted  up  into  glory. 

God  defers,  but  His  deferring  is  no  empty  space, 
wherein  no  good  is  done ;  but  there  is  in  mat  space 
a  fitting  lor  promises ;  whilst  the  seed  lies  hid  in 


the  earth,  time  is  not  lost,  for  winter  fits  for  3 
spring,  yea,  the  harder  the  winter,  the  more  hope-, 
ful  the  spring  ;  yet  were  it  a  mere  empty  space,  we') 
should  hold  out,  because  of  the  great  things  lO 
come  ;  but  being  only  a  preparing  time,  we  should 
pass  it  with  less  iliscouragenient.  Let  this  support 
us  in  all  the  thwartings  of  our  desire.  It  is  a  lolly 
to  think,  that  we  should  have  physic  and  health 
both  at  once.  We  must  endure  the  working  ol 
God's  physic.  When  the  sick  humour  is  carried 
away  purged,  then  we  shall  enjoy  desired  health. 
God  promises  forgiveness  of  sin,  but  thou  findest 
the  burden  of  it  daily  on  thee.  Cheer  up  thyself' 
when  the  morning  is  darkest,  then  comes  day  ;  after 
a  weary  week  comes  a  Sabbath,  and  after  a  fight 
victory  will  appear.  God's  time  is  best,  therelore 
resolve  upon  waiting  His  leisure, 

— Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

4.  Under  affliction. 

(i. )  Impatience  will  only  increase  and  prolong  our 
misery. 

(3670.)  When  a  child,  being  corrected  of  his 
father,  sufTereth  it  patiently,  his  father  hath  the 
more  pity  upon  him,  and  holdeth  his  hand,  and 
ceaseth  the  sooner  ;  but  if  the  child  show  himself 
forward,  cry  anything  loud,  or  murmur  and  grudge 
against  him,  then  is  the  father  the  more  angry  and 
fierce  over  him,  and  beateth  him  the  more  sharply  : 
even  so  our  Heavenly  Father  punisheth  the  patient 
man  the  more  easily,  and  healeth  him  the  sooner  ; 
but  toward  them  that  murmur  against  Him  H« 
showetb  Himself  sharp  and  fierce. 

—  IPerm  ullerus,  1551. 

{3671.)  Considerable  are  the  causes  why  a  broken 
leg  is  incurable  in  a  horse  and  easily  curable  in  a 
man  :  the  horse  is  incapable  ot  ci>unsel  to  submit 
himself  to  the  farrier,  and,  therefore,  in  case  his 
leg  be  set,  he  flings,  he  flounces,  and  flies  out, 
unjointing  it  again  by  his  misemployed  mettle, 
counting  all  binding  to  be  but  shackles  and  fetters 
unto  him  ;  whereas  a  man  willingly  resigneth  him- 
self to  be  ordered  by  the  chirurgeon,  preferring 
rather  to  be  a  prisoner  for  some  days  than  a  cripple 
all  his  life.  Thus,  it  were  heartily  to  be  wished  that 
men  would  not  lie  like  the  horse  or  mule,  which 
have  no  understanding,  but  let  patience  have  its 
perfect  work  in  thein,  so  that  when  they  are,  as  it 
were,  overwhelmed  in  a  deluge  of  distress,  finding 
no  way  to  get  out,  they  would  larry  God's  time, 
and  though  deliverance  come  not  in  an  instant,  yea, 
though  to  wail  be  irksome  at  the  present,  in  due 
time  they  shall  certainly  receive  comlort. 

— fuller,  1608-1661. 

(3672.)  A  man  under  God's  afiliction  is  like  a 
bird  in  a  net  ;  the  more  he  strive^,  the  more  he  is 
entangled.  — hall,  1574-1656. 

(3673.)  It  is  not  wise  to  fret  under  our  trials ;  the 
high-mettled  horse  that  is  restive  in  the  yoke  but 
galls  his  slioukler  ;  the  poor  bird  that  dashes  her- 
self against  the  bars  of  the  cage  but  ruffles  her 
featheis,  and  aggravates  the  sufferings  of  captivity. 

— Gutkrtt. 

(2.)  Affliction  is  inevitable  in  this  life. 

(3674.)  The  whole  creation  groans,  and  God's 
children  bear  a  part  in  the  concert.  They  have 
their  share  in  the  world's  miseries  ;  and  domestical 
crosses  are  coinroon  'o  them  with  other  men  in  the 


PATIENCE. 


(    620    ) 


PA  TIENCE. 


world  :  yei,  their  condition  is  worse  than  other's. 
Chaff  and  corn  are  threshed  in  the  same  floor,  but 
the  corn  is  grinded  in  the  mill  and  baked  in  the 
oven,  Jeremiah  was  in  the  dungeon  when  the  city 
was  besieged.  The  world  hates  them  more  than 
others,  and  God  loves  them  more  than  others.  The 
world  hates  them  because  ihey  are  so  good,  and 
God  corrects  them  because  they  are  no  better. 
There  is  more  care  exercised  about  a  vine  than 
a  bramble.  God  will  not  let  them  perish  with  the 
world.  Great  receipts  call  for  great  expenses  first 
or  last.  God  sees  it  Titling  sometimes  at  first  setting 
forth,  as  the  old  Germans  were  wont  to  dip  their 
children  in  the  Rhine  to  harden  them,  so  to  season 
them  for  their  whole  course,  and  they  must  bear  the 
yoke  from  their  youth  or  first  acquaintance  with 
God  (Heb.  x.  32).  Sometimes  God  lets  them 
alone  while  they  are  young  and  raw,  and  of  little 
experience,  as  we  are  tender  of  trees  newly  planted, 
as  Jacob  drove  as  the  little  ones  were  able  to  bear. 
"  He  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted  above  what 
you  are  able."  They  are  let  alone  till  middle  age, 
till  they  are  of  some  standing  in  religion  ;  "  Moses 
when  he  was  come  to  years"  (Heb.  xi.  24).  Some- 
times they  are  let  alone  till  their  latter  time,  and 
their  season  of  fighting  comes  not  till  they  are  ready 
to  go  out  of  tlie  world,  that  ihey  may  die  fighting 
and  be  crowned  in  the  field  ;  but  first  or  last  the 
cross  conies,  and  there  is  a  time  to  exercise  our  faith 
and  patience  before  vve  inherit  the  promises. 

— Mantun,  1620-1667. 

(3.)  Afflictions  are  the  chastisements  of  a  loving 
Father. 

(3675.)  If  we  endure  grievous  afflictions,  and 
find  tliat  our  Heavenly  Father  doth  correct  us 
sharply,  we  are  not  to  impute  it  to  any  want  of  love 
in  flim,  as  though  He  took  any  pleasure  in  our 
pain,  but  are  to  lay  the  fault  wholly  u]ion  ourselves, 
who  are  so  .stubborn  and  undutiful,  that  more  gentle 
corrections  would  not  reclaim  us.  For  if  there  be 
such  love  and  tenderness  in  eanhly  parents  (which 
notwithstanding  is  but  a  little  drop  distilled  into 
them  Irom  this  fountain,  or  rather  ocean,  ol  mercy 
and  compassion)  that  they  desire,  and  chiefly  delight 
in  showing  their  kind  afiection  to  their  children, 
and  in  giving  to  them  all  testimonies  of  love  ;  and 
are  loath  to  correct  them  for  their  faults,  if  any 
admonitions  will  amend  them,  never  thinking 
stripes  seasonable  but  when  they  see  them  neces- 
sary; yea,  if  their  love  is  such  that,  according  to 
the  same  necessity,  they  are  not  willing  to  give 
them  one  blow  more  than  they  think  necessary  for 
their  amendment ;  then  hovv  much  less  will  the 
Lord  exceed  this  measure  of  necessity,  seeing  He 
both  infinitely  excels  all  en.ilhly  parents  in  love  and 
goodness,  as  being  not  only  gracious,  but  the  God 
of  grace,  and  not  only  loving,  but  Love  itself 
(I  John  iv.  8)  ;  and  is  alike  infinite  in  wisdom,  and 
therefore  cannot,  like  earthly  parents,  be  deceived 
in  the  proportion  of  His  chastisements,  but  justly 
knows  liow  much  is  necessary,  and  neither  too 
much,  nor  too  little,  for  the  amendment  of  His 
children.  — Dotvname,  1 644. 

(3676.)  God  is  the  greatest  of  kings  and  poten- 
tates, but  yet  has  nothing  of  a  tyrant  in  His  nature, 
how  ill  and  tragically  soever  some  may  represent 
Him.  He  takes  no  delight  in  our  groans,  no  plea- 
sure in  our  tears,  but  those  that  are  penitential.  It 
is  no  pastime  to  Him  to  view  the  miseries  of  the  dis- 


tressed, to  hear  the  cries  of  the  orphan  or  the  sighs 
of  the  widow.  "God  does  not  willingly  afflict  the 
children  of  men  :"  He  seems  to  share  in  the  suf- 
fering, wliiJe  He  inflicts  it ;  and  to  feel  the  very  pain 
of  His  own  blows,  while  they  fall  heavy  upon  the 
poor  sinner.  Judgment  is  called  God's  "strange 
work  ; "  a  work  that  He  has  no  proneness  to,  nor 
finds  any  complacency  in  :  and  therefore,  whenso- 
ever He  betakes  Himself  to  it,  we  may  be  confident 
that  it  is  not  for  the  sake  of  the  work  itself,  but 
that  He  has  some  secret,  overruling  design  of  love, 
which  He  is  to  compass  after  an  unusual,  extra- 
ordinary way.  He  never  lops  and  prunes  us  with 
His  judgments,  because  He  delights  to  see  us  bare, 
and  poor,  and  naked,  but  because  He  would  make 
us  fruitful  ;  nor  would  He  cause  us  to  pass  through 
the  fiery  furnace,  but  to  purge  and  to  refine  us. 
For  can  it  be  any  pleasuie  to  the  physician  to 
administer  loathsome  potions  or  bitter  pills?  or  can 
it  be  any  satisfaction  to  a  father  to  employ  a  cliirur- 
i;eon  to  cut  off  his  child's  arm,  were  not  the  taking 
away  a  part  found  necessary  to  secure  the  whole? 
Common  humanity  never  uses  the  lance  to  pain 
and  torture,  but  to  restore- the  patient.  But  now, 
the  care  and  tenderness  of  an  earthly  parent  or 
physician  is  but  a  faint  shadow  and  resemblance  of 
that  infinite  compassion  and  affection  which  God 
bear*  to  His  cliildren,  even  in  the  midst  of  His 
severest  usage  of  them.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(4. )  God  watches  over  His  people  in  their  trials, 
(3677.)  Thou  seest  sometimes  a  father  setting 
down  Iris  little  one  upon  its  feet  to  try  its  strength, 
and  see  whether  it  be  yet  able  to  stand  by  itself  or 
no  ;  but  withal  he  holds  his  arms  on  both  sides  to  up- 
hold it,  if  he  sees  it  incline  either  way,  and  to  preserve 
it  from  hurt.  Assure  thyself  thy  Heavenly  Father 
takes  care  of  thee  with  infinitely  more  tenderness 
in  all  thy  trials  either  by  outward  afllictions  or  in- 
ward temptations.  "Though  he  fall,  he  shall  not 
be  utterly  cast  tiown  ;  for  the  Lord  upholdeth  him 
with  His  hand."  Never  did  goldsmith  attend  so 
curiously  and  punctually  upon  those  precious  metals 
he  casts  into  the  fire,  to  observe  the  very  first 
season,  and  be  sure  that  they  tarry  no  longer  in  the 
furnace  than  the  dross  be  wasted,  and  they  be  tho- 
roughly purified  and  fitted  for  some  excellent  use,  as 
our  gracious  God  lovingly  waits  to  take  thee  out  of 
trouble  and  temptation,  when  the  rust  is  removed 
from  thy  spiritual  armour,  thy  graces  shine  out, 
and  thou  art  heartily  humbled  and  happily  fitted  to 
do  Him  more  glorious  service  for  the  lime  to  come, 
— Bolton,  1 572-1631. 

( 5. )  The  purpose  of  our  affliction  is  to  restore  us  to 
spiritual  health. 

(3678.)  Like  as  they  that  are  diseased  can  be 
content  to  suffer  any  of  the  members  of  their  body 
to  be  cut  oft'  and  to  be  burnt,  so  that  they  might  be 
eased  thereby  of  their  continual  pain,  which  is  yet 
but  transitory,  and  be  made  whole  again  ;  even  so 
ought  we  willingly  to  suffer  our  Lord  God,  and  to 
be  quiet  when  He  sendeth  us  adversity,  whereby 
we  may  be  relieved  of  eternal  pain,  and  obtain 
health,  bliss,  and  salvation  for  our  souls. 

—  Wermullerus,  1 55 1. 

(3679-)  Our  Physician  makes  these  outward 
blisters  in  our  bodies,  to  draw  out  the  poisonous 
corruption  that  is  in  our  souls  :  and  therefore  let  us 
endure  what  He  imposes  with  patience,  and  never 


PATIENCE. 


{    621    ) 


PA  TIENCE. 


munmir  against  Him  for  effecting  His  cure  ;  know- 
ing that  it  is  but  childisli  foily  to  abhor  the 
medicine  moie  tlian  llie  disease,  and  that  we  count 
them  madmen  who  rage  against  the  physician  who 
intends  tlieir  recovery. 

Let  us  rather  rejoice  that  the  Lord  is  content 
to  minister  to  us.  l)ecaiise  seeing  He  undertakes  to 
cure  us  by  tliese  meiiicines,  it  is  a  sign  that  we  are 
not  past  recovery.  For  when  in  our  diseases  our 
estate  is  desperate,  He  leaves  us  to  our  own  appetite, 
to  liave  what  our  hearts  can  desire,  and  to  tal<e  our 
fill  of  the  pleasures  of  sin.         — Downatne,  1644. 

(36S0.)  The  Lord  takes  away  from  His  cliildren 
worldly  honours,  when  He  sees  that  they  would  be 
by  them  puffetl  up  with  jiride,  and  become  insolent 
and  vain-gloiious.  Thus  lie  deprives  them  of 
riches,  when  they  would  be  unto  them  thorns,  to 
choke  and  hinder  the  growth  of  His  heavenly 
graces,  or  incitements  to  sin,  or  tlie  means  and 
instruments  to  further  them  in  wicked  actions,  or, 
like  camel's  hunches,  hinder  them  from  entering 
into  the  straight  gate  which  leads  to  iiappiness. 
Thus  He  takes  from  us  parents,  children,  and  dear 
friends,  when,  if  we  should  still  enjoy  them,  we 
would  make  them  our  idols,  setting  our  hearts  upon, 
loving,  or  trusting  in  them  more  than  in  God  Him- 
self. So  He  deprives  us  of  our  earthly  pleasures, 
when  He  sees  that  we  woidd  prefer  them  before 
heavenly  joys  ;  and  causes  us  to  find  many  troubles, 
crosses,  and  afflictions  in  the  world,  because  He 
knows  that  if  it  should  smile  and  fa\\n  upon  us, 
we  would  make  a  paradise  of  tlie  place  of  our  pil- 
grimage, set  our  heaits  and  affections  upon  these 
transitory  trifles,  and  never  care  to  travel  in  the 
way  of  holiness  and  righteousness  which  leads  to 
our  heavenly  country. 

As  therefore  skilful  physicians  do  not  only  apply 
medicines  for  the  curing  of  diseases,  when  men  are 
fallen  into  tliem,  but  also  in  time  of  infection,  and 
when  they  see  some  distemper  in  them  through  the 
abounding  of  humours,  give  wholesome  preserva- 
tives to  maintain  health,  and  to  drive  away  the 
approaching  disease ;  so  our  heavenly  Physician 
uses  these  potions  of  aniiclions,  not  only  to  cure  us 
of  the  diseases  of  sin,  but  also  to  purge  away  our 
inward  C(jrru]itions,  and  so  to  prevent  these  deadly 
sicknesses  of  the  soul. 

The  consideration  whereof  should  move  us  to 
bear  all  our  afflictions  with  much  patience  and 
comfort,  — Doivna/ne,  1644. 

(36S1.)  Look  upon  thy  affliction  as  thou  dost 
upon  thy  piiysic  ;  l)oth  imply  a  disease,  and  both 
are  applied  for  a  cure, — thai  of  the  body,  this  of 
the  soul.  If  they  work,  they  promise  healtli  ;  if  not, 
they  threaten  death.  He  is  not  liappy  that  is  not 
afflicted,  but  he  that  finds  li;ippiness  by  his  afflic- 
tion. Quarlts,  1592-1644. 

(3682.)  Provoke  not  God,  and  nothing  will  pro- 
ceed from  Him  but  what  is  good  and  comfortable. 
He  does  not  punish  or  chasten  men  for  holiness 
and  well-doing ;  no,  it  is  for  want  of  holiness. 
Shall  the  phvsieian  be  blamed  for  the  trouble  of 
physic,  when  the  ()atient  has  contracted  a  surfeit 
that  makes  it  necessary  ? 

— Mantoii,  1 620- 1 667. 

{3683.)  Under  trials  we  act  the  part  of  children, 
and  suffer  ourselves  to  be  governed  by  sense,  and 
not  by  reason.     Take  a  sick  child,  it  is  in  vain  to 


renson  witli  him.  He  shuns  the  bitterness  of  the 
draught  ;  he  will  not  suffer  you  to  touch  the  sore 
place,  though  you  assure  him  it  is  the  only  meana 
by  which  he  can  be  restored  to  health.  No  matter, 
the  cliild  is  under  the  dominion  of  sense,  not  of 
reason,  and  he  is,  therefore,  wholly  governed  by  ■ 
the  feelinys  of  his  senses.  So,  when  cast  into  tha 
furnace,  and  under  the  hands  of  our  gracious 
Refiner,  we  are  no  longer  men,  but  children.  It  is 
the  flesh  which  now  dictates,  and  not  the  sjiirit. 
What  caros  the  flesh  for  argument  or  reason  ?  it 
will  not  assuage  its  pain,  or  take  away  its  suffering. 
It  would  turn  away  from  the  cup,  however  medi- 
cinal, and  from  the  hand  of  H:m  who  would  heal 
U3.  — Sailer. 

(36S4.)  The  woes  of  broken  health  and  grim 
depression  ;  the  pains,  the  unspeakable  agonies  by 
which  human  bodies  are  wrenched  for  whole  years  ; 
the  wrongs  of  orphanage  ;  pestilence,  fire,  flood, 
tempest,  and  famine, — how  can  a  good  God  launch 
His  liolts  on  n>en,  we  ask,  in  severities  like  these? 
And  the  sufferers  themselves  sometimes  wonder, 
evep  in  their  faiih,  ho\/  it  is  that  if  God  is  a  father, 
He  can  let  fall  on  His  children  such  hail-storms 
of  inevitable,  unmitigated  disaster.  No,  suffering 
mortal  !  a  truce  to  all  such  complainings.  These 
are  only  Gofl's  merciful  indirections,  fomentatinns 
of  trouble  and  sorrow,  th?t  He  is  applying  to  soften 
the  rugged  and  hard  will  in  yon.  These  pains  are 
only  switches  to  turn  you  off  from  the  track  of  His 
coming  retributions.  If  your  great,  proud  nature 
could  be  won  to  the  real  greatness  of  character  by 
a  tenderer  treatmeri,  do  you  not  see,  from  all 
God's  gentle  methods  of  dealing  with  mankind, 
that  He  gladly  w(.>uld  soften  your  troubles?  And 
if  diamonds  are  not  polished  by  sonp,  or  oil,  01 
even  liy  any  other  stone,  Imt  only  by  their  own 
fine  dust,  why  should  you  complain  that  God  is 
tempering  you  to  your  good  only  by  such  throes 
and  lacerations  and  wastings  of  life  as  are  necessary. 

— Busknell. 

(6.)  IVe  are  under  the  care  of  a  Physician  who  it 
*'  too  wise  to  err,  and  too  good  to  be  trnkind." 

(3685.)  When  we  have  on  our  bodies  wounds  or 
dee])ly-festered  sores,  we  voluntarily  send  for  the 
surgeon,  and  yield  ourselves  into  his  hands  to  t)e 
used  at  his  discretion,  for  the  efl'ecting  of  the  cure. 
We  are  content  that  he  should  not  only  apply 
healing  plasters,  but  tormenting  corrosives,  and 
that  he  should  search  our  sores  to  the  bottom,  lance 
and  sear,  yea,  cut  off  a  member  for  the  preservation 
of  the  whole  body  :  and  fearing  lest  we  should  not 
have  courage  and  strength  enough  to  enduie  thess 
tortures,  we  are  willing  to  he  bound,  that  we  may 
not  by  our  struggling  and  striving  hinder  him  in 
his  courses.  So  when  we  are  diseased,  we  crave 
the  help  of  tlie  learned  physician,  and  are  content 
for  the  curing  of  our  sickness  to  follow  his 
direction,  to  swallow  bitter  pills  and  loathsome 
putions,  to  use  strict  diet  or  total  abstinence,  and 
to  eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  lal-our,  not  according  to  our 
ajipelite  and  natural  disposition,  but  according  to  his 
direction  ;  yea,  all  this  we  not  only  jiatiently  endure, 
but  are  ready  to  gratify  their  pains  witli  thankiul- 
ness  and  reward.  And  therefore  if  in  uncertain 
hope  to  recover  the  health  ol  our  body,  which  can 
last  but  for  a  moment,  and  is  ready  presently  after 
the  cure  to  languish  again,  falling  into  a  relapse  of 
the  old  grief,  or  into  other  diseases  more  dangerouj 


PATIENCE. 


(    622    ) 


PA  TIENCE. 


tlian  they,  we  are  content  to  endure  all  these 
miseries  at  the  appointment  of  mortal  men,  who 
often  are  unfaithful,  seeking  more  their  own  gain  than 
our  health,  nnd  ofien  unskilful,  neitlier  truly  know- 
ing the  nature  of  our  di.sease  nor  the  means  how 
to  cure  it  ;  how  much  more  should  we  with  all 
alacrity  and  cheerfulness  endure  any  crosses  and 
afflictions,  when  they  are  used  by  our  heavenly 
Physician  and  Surgeon  lor  tlie  curing  and  liealing 
our  souls  of  the  dangerous  dista.'-es  and  sores  of 
sin,  wliich  would  bring  us  in  the  end  unto  ever- 
lasting death,  seeing  we  are  certainly  assured  that 
lie  will  by  this  means  recover  us  unto  perfect  and 
)ievei -decaying  health,  a-!  beiiiij  most  faiihful  and 
careful  over  us,  and  in  His  wisdom  and  skill  in- 
finite jind  all-sufficient  for  the  effecting  of  the  cure. 
— Downame,  1644. 

(36S6  )  When  we  see  that  our  heavenly  Physi- 
cian has  provided  divers  kinds  of  medicines  for  His 
divers  patients;  let  us  not  wonder  at  it.  For  either 
their  diseases  are  diverse,  or  they  are  diverse  in 
tiieir  constitution  ;  and  it  beseems  not  the  skill  of 
our  heavenly  Physician,  like  the  ignorant  empiric 
to  apply  one  salve  for  all  sores,  and  the  same 
medicine  for  all  kind  of  maladies,  but  to  fit  the 
remedy  according  to  the  nature  of  the  infirmity, 
and  condition  of  the  party.  And  if  we  have  a 
potion  of  the  largest  size  and  loathsome  in  taste 
appointed  for  us,  let  us  not  think  it  too  much,  and 
murmur  against  our  jihysician,  who  knows  better 
than  we  wliat  medicine  is  fittest  for  the  curing  of 
our  diseases.  Neither  let  us  say  that  others  have 
worse  sores  and  more  gentle  salves,  more  danger- 
ous sicknesses,  and  more  easy  remedies  ;  for  if  we 
are  olten  mistaKcn  in  our  bodily  diseases  and  think 
that  we  are  in  no  peril,  when  the  physician  sees 
that  our  sickness  is  almost  desperate,  and  in  this 
legard  rest  not  upon  our  own  feeling,  but  upon  his 
skill,  and  willingly  take  that  which  he  prescribes, 
then  how  mucli  more  may  we  be  deceived  in  tiie 
sicknesses  of  our  souls,  thinking  our  dangerous 
diseases  to  be  but  small  infirmiiics,  and  deep  con- 
sumptions in  grace  but  some  little  distemper  and 
faint  languishing  ;  and  therefore  how  much  rather 
should  we  reler  ourselves  wholly  to  the  skill  and 
wisdom,  of  God  who  cannot  err  for  want  of  judg- 
ment, because  He  knows  all  things,  nor  for  want  of 
care,  because  His  love  is  infinite. 

— Dozvname,  1644. 

(3687.)  If  there  be  such  love  and  care  in  a  faith- 
ful and  learned  physician  that,  according  to  his 
skill,  he  will  take  lor  the  ease  of  his  patient  the 
gentlest  courses  which  he  thiid<s  sufficient  for  the 
tffecting  of  the  cure,  how  much  moie  may  we  be 
assured  that  our  heavenly  Physician,  who  never 
fails  for  want  of  skill,  and  is  also  infinite  in  love 
and  goooness,  will  never  use  sharper  means  than 
our  sickness  requires.  And,  therefore,  if  we  with 
patience  and  contentment  resign  ourselves  over  to 
the  skill  and  fidelity  of  our  earthly  physicians, 
vhoiigh  they  sometimes  fail  in  both,  and  do  not 
limit  thern  either  in  respect  of  tlie  quantity  or 
quality  of  their  physic,  how  much  more  should  we 
(vholly  rely  upon  the  Lord,  neither  jiresenting  to 
Him  what  we  must  take,  nor  how  long  we  must  be 
under  cure.  — Daivttaiie,  1644. 

(36S8.)  A  surgeon,  when  he  meeteth  with  a  sore 
festered,  applieth  some  sharp  corrosive  to  eat  out 


the  dead  flesh  that  would  otherwise  spoil  the  cure, 
which,  being  done,  the  patient,  it  may  be,  impatient 
of  anguish  and  pain,  cries  out  to  have  it  removed. 
"No,"  says  the  surgeon,  "it  must  stay  there  till  it 
hath  eaten  to  the  quick,  and  effecied  that  thoroughly 
for  which  it  is  applied  ;"  commanding  those  that 
are  about  him  to  see  that  nothing  be  stirred  till  he 
come  again  to  him.  In  the  meantime,  the  patient, 
being  much  pained,  counts  every  minute  an  hour 
till  the  surgeon  comes  back  again  ;  and  if  he  stay 
long,  thinketh  that  he  hath  forgotten  him,  or  that 
he  is  taken  up  with  other  patients,  and  will  not 
return  in  any  reasonable  time  ;  when,  as  it  may  be, 
he  is  all  the  while  but  in  the  next  room  to  him, 
attending  the  hour-glass,  purposely  set  up  till  the 
plaster  have  had  its  full  operation.  Thus,  in  the 
self-same  manner,  doth  God  deal  ofttimes  with  His 
dearest  children,  as  David  and  St.  Paul.  The  one 
was  instant,  more  than  once  or  twice,  to  be  rid  of 
that  evil  ;  and  the  other  cries  out  as  fast,  "Take 
away  the  plague  from  me,  for  I  am  even  con- 
sumed," &.C.  ;  but  God  makes  both  of  them  to  stay 
His  time.  He  saw  in  them,  as  in  all  others,  much 
corrupt  matter  behind,  that  was  as  yet  to  be  eaten 
out  of  their  souls  ;  He  will  have  the  cross  to  have 
its  full  work  upon  us,  not  to  come  out  of  the  fire  as 
we  went  in,  nor  to  come  ofi  the  lire  as  foul  and  as 
full  of  scum  as  we  were  first  set  on. 

— Gataker,  1574-1654. 

(3689.)  I  observe,  when  such  operations  are 
necessary,  if  people  are  satisfied  of  a  surgeon's  skill 
and  prudence,  they  will  not  only  yield  to  be  cut  at 
his  pleasuie,  without  jiretending  to  direct  him 
where,  or  how  long  he  shall  make  the  incision,  but 
will  thank  and  pay  him  for  putting  them  to  pain, 
because  they  believe  it  for  their  advantage.  1  wish 
I  could  be  more  like  tliem  in  my  concerns.  My 
body  is,  through  mercy,  free  from  considerable 
ailments,  but  1  have  a  soul  that  requires  surgeon'*" 
work  continually  ;  there  is  some  tumour  to  be  dis- 
cussed or  laid  open,  some  dislocation  to  be  reduced, 
some  fracture  to  be  healed  almost  daily.  It  is  my 
great  mercy,  that  One  who  i^  inlallible  in  skill,  who 
exercises  incessant  care  and  boundless  compassion 
towards  all  His  patients,  has  undertaken  my  case  ; 
and  complicaied  as  it  is,  I  dare  not  doubt  His 
making  a  penoct  cure.  Yet  alas !  I  too  often 
discover  such  jnijiaticnce,  distrust,  and  complaining, 
when  under  His  hand,  am  so  apt  to  find  lault  with 
the  instruments  He  is  pleased  to  make  use  of,  so 
reaily  to  think  the  salutary  wounds  He  makes 
unnecessary  or  too  large  ;  in  a  word,  1  show  such 
a  prumptne-s  to  control  were  1  able,  or  to  direct 
Ilis  operations,  that,  weie  not  His  patience  beyond 
expression,  He  would  bclore  now  have  given  me 
up.  — Ndwton,  1725-1807. 

{3690.)  WTien  we  are  pierced  with  aflTlictions,  the 
way  is  not  to  go  to  God  and  say,  "  Take  away  this 
thorn."  God  says,  "  No  ;  1  put  it  there  to  l)leed 
you  where  you  are  plethoric."  Suffering  well  borne 
is  belter  than  suflering  removed.  — Beecher. 

(3691.)  I  will  bear  it 

With  all  the  tender  sutfrance  of  a  friend. 
As  calmly  as  the  wounded  patient  bears 
The  artist °s  hand  tliat  ministers  his  cure. 

—  Vtway. 


PATIENCE. 


(    623    ) 


PA  TIENCE. 


(7.)  Affliction  is  a  vocation  whereby  God  honours 
us,  and  tti  which  we  may  glorify  Him. 

(3692.)  When  we  are  exercised  with  grievous 
afilictions,  let  us  not  nuirniur  against  Ilim  that 
inflicted  them,  but  lei  us  bear  all  with  patience  and 
comfort,  yea,  wiih  joy  and  thankfulness.  I'or  so 
we  may  assure  ourselves,  that  as  we  much  glorify 
God  by  our  sufferings,  so  by  these  trials  He  vouch- 
safes to  us  a  double  honour.  For  first  He  honours 
us  by  enriching  us  with  His  graces  ;  and  then  by 
trying  of  them,  whilst  thereby  their  worth  and 
excellency  is  manifested  to  all  that  behold  us  in 
these  conHicts;  and  lastly,  He  will  honour  us  by 
crowning  His  graces  in  us,  when  by  trial  they 
are  approved.  Even  as  the  skilful  armourer  first 
graces  his  armour  by  good  workmanship,  then  by 
bringing  it  to  the  prool,  and  lastly  by  causing  it  to 
be  employed  in  the  prince's  service. 

— Downame,  1644. 

(3693)  The  general  honours  the  soldier,  first  by 
training  him  to  the  wars,  and  making  him  expert 
in  all  ieats  of  chivalry  ;  then  by  giving  him  a  place 
of  employment  tit  for  his  gilts  and  good  parts  ;  and 
finally  by  rewarding  and  crowning  his  victories, 
causing  him  to  sit  with  himself  in  his  chariot  of 
triumph. 

As  therefore  the  valiant  soldier  murmors  not 
against  his  captam,  v\hen,  having  a  high  opinion  of 
his  fortitude,  he  appuinis  hi:u  to  services  full  of 
danger  and  difficulty,  but  accounts  himself  much 
honoured,  in  that  he  thinks  him  wo. thy  of  such 
employments  ;  and  contrariwise,  thinking  his  valour 
and  abilities  undervalued,  is  full  of  discontent  if  he 
should  b«  appointed  to  base  and  easy  services, 
which  any  coward  or  fresh-water  soldier  could 
achieve  without  difficulty  or  danger;  so  much  less 
have  we  any  cause  of  repining  when  our  great 
Commander,  who  best  knows  our  abilities,  employs 
us  in  services  of  a  high  nature.  Yea,  rather  we 
have  cause  of  thanksgiving  and  rejoicing,  seeing 
He  has  first  honoured  us  with  gilts  lit  for  these 
attempts,  and  now  honours  us  by  giving  us  oppor- 
tunity of  employing  them,  and  aj^proving  iheni  in 
the  trial,  and  will  hereafter  crown  us  witii  victory. 
Neither  do  any  ol  His  soldiers  perish  in  their  mag- 
nanimous attempts,  seeing  He  protects  them  in  all 
dangers,  and  never  matches  them  with  any  enemy 
but  such  as  He  enables  them  to  overcome. 

— Dowiiaine,  1644, 

(3694.)  The  learned  scholar  takes  great  delight 
when  he  is  posed  in  difficult  question^;,  according  to 
the  measure  ol  his  knowledge,  that  he  may  approve 
his  sufficiency  both  to  his  masier  and  fello\xs  ;  and 
contrariwise  thinks  himsell  wronged  and  disrepuied, 
if  having  read  the  best  authors,  he  be  examined  in 
the  first  rudiments  ol  giaiinnar  or  in  the  ABC. 
And  so  in  like  manner  we  are  much  honoured  by 
God,  when  having  rcceiveil  Irom  Him  many  and 
great  virtues,  Heal.-^o  brings  us  into  great  and  many 
trials;  seeing  that  as  our  virtue  and  strength  are 
fitted  according  to  the  power  of  our  eiuinits  who 
encounter  us,  so  shall  our  crown  be  fitted  to  our 
graces,  and  the  glory  of  our  crown  to  the  great- 
ness of  the  victory.  — Downame,  1644. 

(3695.)  Suffering  in  all  its  forms  is,  and  should 
be  lcK)ked  upon  as  being,  a  vocation.  There  are 
many,  and  these  real  Christians,  persons  interested 
in  God's  service,  who  regard  sulfi.ring  in  a  shallow, 


superficial  point  o*"  view,  as  an  interference  with 
their  vocations,  and  consequently  miss  all  the  golden 
opportunities  of  growth  in  grace  and  knowledge 
which  it  holds  out.  Their  plan  of  life  is  put  out  of 
joint,  and,  as  it  appears,  their  usefulness  impeded 
by  some  accident  or  some  grievous  sickness  ;  their 
activity  is  at  an  end,  or  at  an  end  for  a  time, — 
quietness  is  imposed  upon  them  as  a  condition  of 
life,  or  of  recovery  ;  they  chafe  and  fret  at  the  re- 
straint, because,  as  they  themselves  put  it,  they  are 
precluded  Irom  actively  doing  good.  Now  what 
does  this  fretting  indicate  ?  \N'hat  but  this,  that 
they  love  not  the  will  of  God,  but  merely  the  satis- 
faction which  accrues  in  the  natural  order  of  things 
from  a  consciousness  of  doing  good  to  others  ;  and 
to  cling  to  this  satisfaction  is  only  a  higher  form  of 
self-love — not  the  love  of  God.  The  truth  is  that 
God,  in  sending  them  the  sickness  or  the  accident, 
has  been  pleased  in  His  wisdom  and  love  to  change 
their  vocation,  and  if  minded  to  be  really  loyal  to 
His  will,  they  must  accommodate  antl  laniiliarise 
themselves  to  the  idea,  not  that  their  occupation  is 
gone,  but  simply  that  it  is  altered. 

As  an  illustration,  let  us  imagine  the  conduct  of 
a  campaign  by  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  forces 
of  an  empire.  No  one  but  he  himself  is  in  full  pos- 
session of  his  plans  ;  he  has  laid  his  schemes  with 
a  deep  foresight  and  with  the  most  coriect  calcula- 
tion of  contingencies,  but  communicates  the  whoJe 
of  them  to  no  suboidinate.  Advices  from  home, 
and  from  the  generals  of  detachments,  are  arriving 
all  day  long  at  headquarters,  and  despatches  are  as 
continually  going  out;  but  no  one  knows  any, 
more  of  the  contents  than  concerns  hi.^own  position 
and  duties.  Many  lookers  on,  who  cannot  see  the 
whole  game,  misjudge  the  commander.  There  is 
an  outcry  that  he  risked  unfairly  in  an  enterprise 
almost  desperate,  the  lives  of  a  small  party  ;  but  the 
real  truth  is,  as  men  would  see  if  tiiey  could  but 
know  the  whole,  that  this  risk  was  absolutely  essrn- 
tial  to  the  safety  of  the  entire  force,  and  that  by  the 
exposure  of  a  score  of  men  to  fearful  oilds,  the  lives 
of  twenty  thousand  have  been  secured.  Let  us 
now  .suppose  that  suddenly  some  officer  is  com- 
manded to  hold  himself  and  his  Irocp  in  readiness 
to  undertake  some  imporiant  manoeuvre — to  go  up 
into  a  breacli,  or  to  storm  a  fortress,  or  to  meet  and 
cutoff  an  enemy's  supplies — suppose  that  this  enter- 
prise exactly  suits  both  the  ca]jacilies  and  inclina- 
tion of  the  man  on  whom  it  is  devolved  ;  that  there 
is  room  in  it  for  the  display  of  powers  which  he  is 
conscious  of  possessing  ;  tliat  it  gives  him  just  the 
opportunity  which  he  coveted  of  achieving  distinc- 
tion. He  is  making  his  pre|>aiaiions  with  all  san- 
guineness,  and  anticipating  the  final  order  to  depart, 
when  lo  !  the  onier  arrives,  but  it  peremptorily 
alters  his  destination  ;  he  is  not  lo  be  of  the  storm- 
ing party,  he  is  to  go  into  a  secluded  dingle  with  his 
men,  far  out  of  the  way  of  the  operations,  and  there 
lie  still,  and  send  out  scouts  lo  make  observations 
of  the  country,  and  rejiorl.  it  is  a  haid  trial  to  one 
who  was  girtlinsj  himself  for  active  service,  and 
longing  for  an  opiioriunity  lor  tlisplaying  ])rowess 
and  forethought  ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  bear,  just  in 
proportion  as  there  is  room  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of 
the  commander's  general  arrangements,  and  his  con- 
sideratcness  for  the  individual  officer  whose  destina- 
tion he  thus  arbitrarily  changes.  liul  supposing 
these  to  be  beyond  all  question,  supposing  that 
hitherto  the  most  consummate  skill  had  been  shown 
ill  every  arrangement  of  lire  campaign,  and  that  on 


PA  TIENCE. 


{    624    ) 


PATIENCE. 


many  previous  occasions  the  general  had  shown  the 
very  kindest,  and  even  the  most  affectionate,  regard 
to  the  interests  of  this  particular  officer,  would  it 
then  be  found  impossible  or  even  difTicult  to  recon- 
cile the  mind  to  such  a  disposition  of  things  ?  Surely 
nut,  when  once  coul  reflection  had  succeeded  to  the 
6ting  of  the  disappointment. 

And  when  our  Heavenly  Father  changes  our 
whole  plan  of  life  by  His  providential  despatches, 
and  virtually  sends  us  the  order,  "  Lie  still  ;  and  let 
another  gird  and  carry  thee  instead  of  tliy  girding 
thyself,  and  walking  on  Mme  errands  'whither  thou 
uoulds'. ';"  shall  we  venture  even  to  remonstrate, 
when  we  are  assured  by  the  testimony  of  His  word, 
that  both  His  wisdom  and  His  care  for  us  are  un- 
bounded ?  and  when  our  own  experience  of  life, 
brief  as  it  has  been,  re-echoes  this  testimony  ?  Ah  ! 
to  love  God  is  to  embrace  His  will  when  it  runs 
counter  to  our  inclinations,  as  well  as  when  it  jumps 
with  them.  — Goulburn, 

(8. )  The  issue  of  all  afflictions  is  good  to  the  people 
of  God. 

(3696.)  Job  out  of  his  own  experience  says :  "  He 
knoweth  my  way  and  trieth  me,  and  I  shall  come 
forth  like  the  gold."  In  respect  of  which  happy  issue 
given  by  the  Lord  to  all  our  trials,  we  have  just 
cause  to  bear  them  all  with  patience  and  comfort, 
with  joy  and  thanksgiving.  For  if  we  be  not 
counterfeit  metal,  but  good  gold,  why  should  we 
fear  the  furnace  of  affliction,  seeing  it  will  not  con- 
sume us  like  straw  or  chaff,  but  only  try  us,  and  in 
trying  purify  us  ;  that  coming  to  the  touchstone  we 
may  be  approved,  and  so  be  reserved  for  ever  in 
God's  treasury  of  blessedness?  If  we  be  good 
grapes,  why  do  we  fear  the  press  of  tribulation, 
which  will  not  destroy  us,  but  bring  us  to  perfection, 
making  us  fit  wine  for  God's  own  use?  If  we  be 
good  wheat,  why  should  we  be  gi  ievcd  to  come  under 
the  flail  or  fan,  seeing  it  will  not  hurt  us,  but  only 
separate  and  cleanse  us  from  the  straw  and  chaff, 
that  we  may  be  laid  up  for  God  s  own  store  in  the 
graneries  of  heavenly  ha[)pincss?  Finally,  if  we  Ije 
God  s  soldiers  in  the  Church  militant,  why  should 
we  not  with  joy  and  Christian  courage  skirmish 
with  the  world  assaulting  us  daily  with  troubles 
and  afilictions,  seeing  by  this  conduct  our  valour  is 
tried,  that  being  approved  it  may  be  crowned  ;  and 
v\e  assured  of  God's  continual  assistance,  which 
will  defend  us  in  the  fight,  and  in  the  end  give  us 
the  victory? 

Let  us  therefore  leave  fear  and  horror,  murmur- 
ing and  repining,  to  false  dissemblers  and  faithless 
men,  to  whom  alone  these  miseries  are  hurtful  and 
dangerous.  Let  counterfeit  and  drossy  Christians 
fear  the  fiery  trial,  seeing  in  it  they  are  sure  to  be 
consumed.  Let  hypociiies,  who  like  fair  green 
leaves  make  a  goodly  show  but  yield  no  sweet  juice 
of  holiness,  fear  the  wine-press  and  vintage,  be- 
cause their  pressing  will  bring  no  profit,  but  they 
shall  be  cast  away  or  trodden  under  foot.  Let  the 
chalf  and  straw  fear  the  Hail  and  Ian,  because  being 
thereby  separated  from  the  good  wheat,  they  shall 
be  either  burnt  with  tire,  or  cast  upon  the  dunghill. 
Let  dastards  and  cowards,  traiiors  and  enemies, 
tremble  and  grieve,  when  they  are  encountered  by 
afilictions,  seeing  in  this  fight  they  are  led  captive 
of  sm,  and  alterwards  for  ever  imbondaged  in  the 
prison  of  hell  and  destruction.  As  for  God's  faith- 
•^ul    ones,    let    them    endure    all    these    trials    with 


patience,  comfort,  and  rejoicing,  seeing  they  do  by 
exercising,  manifest  God's  graces,  that  He  may  b« 
glorified  in  His  gifts,  and  His  gifts  crowned  in 
them.  — Downame,  1644. 

(3697.)  I  have  observed  that  towns  which  have 
been  casually  burnt,  have  been  built  again  more 
beautiful  than  before.  Mud  walls,  afterwards  made 
of  stones  ;  and  roof';,  formerly  but  thatched,  after 
advanced  to  be  tiled.  The  Apostle  telis  me  that  I 
must  not  think  it  strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial 
which  is  to  happen  unto  me.  May  I  likewise  provj 
improved  by  it.  L^t  my  renewed  soul,  which 
grows  out  of  the  ashes  ot  the  old  man,  be  a  moiQ 
firm  fabric  and  strong  structure,  so  shall  affliction 
be  my  advantage.  — Fuller,  1 60S- 1661. 

(3698.)  The  thorn  is  one  of  the  most  cursed  and 
angry  and  crabbed  weeds  that  the  earth  yields, 
and  yet  out  of  it  springs  the  rose,  one  of  the 
sweetest  smelled  flowers,  and  most  delightiul  to  the 
eye,  that  the  earth  has.  Your  Lord  shall  make  joy 
and  gladness  out  ol  your  afflictions,  for  all  His 
roses  have  a  fragrant  smell.    — Rutherford,  1661. 

(3699-)  God  doth  not  take  the  axe  into  His  hand 
to  make  chips.  His  people,  when  He  is  hewing 
them,  and  the  axe  goes  deepest,  may  expect  some 
beautiful  piece  at  tlie  end  of  the  work.  It  is  a 
sweet  meditation  Parisiensis  hath  upon  Rom.  viii. 
28, — We  know  that  all  things  work  together  foi 
good  to  them  that  love  God  :  "  Where,  U  my  soul, 
shouldst  thou  be  more  satisfied,  free  of  care  and 
fear,  than  when  thou  art  among  thy  fellow-labourers, 
and  those  that  come  to  help  thee  to  attain  thy  so 
much  desired  salvation,  which  thy  afflictions  do?* 
They  work  together  with  ordinances  and  other 
providential  dealings  of  God  for  good,  yea  thy 
chief  good ;  and  thou  couldst  as  ill  spare  their 
help  as  any  other  means  which  Gcd  appoints  thee. 
Should  one  find,  as  soon  as  he  riseth  in  the  morning, 
some  on  his  house-top  tearing  off  the  tiles,  and 
with  axes  and  hammers  taking  down  the  roof  there- 
of, he  might  at  first  be  amazed  and  troubled  at  the 
sight,  yea,  think  they  are  a  company  of  thieves, 
aui  enemies  come  to  do  him  some  mischief ;  but 
when  he  understands  they  are  woikmen  sent  by 
his  father  to  mend  his  house,  and  make  it  better 
than  it  is  (which  cannot  be  done  without  t.iking 
some  of  it  down),  he  is  satisfied,  and  content  to  en- 
dure the  present  noise  and  trouble,  yea  thankful  to 
his  father,  for  the  care  and  cost  he  bestows  on  him: 
the  very  hope  of  what  advantage  will  come  of  their 
work,  makes  him  very  willing  to  dwell  a  while 
amidst  the  ruins  and  rubbish  of  his  oUl  house.  I 
do  not  wonder  to  see  hopeless  souls  so  impatient  in 
their  sufferings,  sometimes  even  to  distraction  of 
mind  ;  alas  !  they  lear  presently  (and  have  reason  so 
to  do)  that  they  come  to  pull  all  their  vvorhlly  joys 
and  comforts  down  about  their  ears,  which  gone, 
what,  alas  !  have  they  left  to  comfort  them,  who  can 
look  for  nothing  but  hell  in  another  world  ?  But 
the  believer's  lieait  is  eased  of  all  this,  because 
assured  from  the  promise,  that  they  are  sent  on  a 
better  errand  to  him  from  his  Heavenly  Father, 
who  intends  him  no  hurt,  but  rather  good,  even 
to  build  the  ruinous  frame  of  his  soul  into  a  glorious 
temple  at  last,  and  these  afflictions  come,  among 
other  means,  to  have  a  hand  in  the  work,  and  this 
satisfies  nim,  that  he  can  say.  Lord,  cut  and  hew 
me  how  Thou  wilt,  that  at  last  1  may  be  polished 
and  framed  according  to  the  platform   which  love 


PA  TIE  NCR, 


(    625    ) 


PATIENCE. 


hath  drawn  in  Thy  heart  for  me.  Though  some 
ignorant  man  would  think  his  clothes  spoiled  when 
l>esnieaied  with  fuller's  earth  or  soap,  yet  one  that 
knows  the  cleansing  nature  of  them  will  not  be 
afraid  to  have  them  so  used. 

— Gttmall,  161 7-1679. 

(3700.)  Consider  that  all  your  trials  shall  work 
for  your  good,  "  We  know  that  all  things  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God."  \Vhy  then 
should  you  fret,  seeing  God  designs  your  good  in 
all?  The  bee  sucks  sweet  honey  out  of  the  bitter- 
est herbs  ;  so  God  will  by  afflictions  teach  His 
children  to  suck  sweet  knowledge,  sweet  obeilience, 
and  sweet  experience  out  of  all  the  bitter  afllictions 
He  exercises  them  with.  That  scouring  and  rub- 
bing which  frets  others,  shall  make  them  shine  the 
brighter  ;  and  thnt  weight  which  crushes  and  keeps 
others  under,  shall  but  make  them,  like  the  palm- 
tree,  grow  belter  and  higher ;  and  that  hammer 
which  knocks  others  all  in  pieces,  shall  but  knock 
them  nearer  to  Christ,  the  corner  stone.  Stars 
shine  brightest  in  the  darkest  night  ;  torches  give 
the  best  light  when  beaten  ;  grapes  yield  most 
wine  when  most  pressed  ;  spices  smell  sweetest 
when  pounded  ;  vines  are  the  better  for  bleeding  ; 
gold  looks  the  better  for  scouring  ;  juniper  smells 
sweetest  in  the  fire  ;  chamomile,  the  more  you  tread 
it,  the  more  you  spread  it.  Where  afflictions  hang 
heaviest,  corruptions  hang  loosest ;  and  grace  that 
is  hill  in  nature,  as  sweet  water  in  rose-leaves,  is 
then  most  fragrant  when  the  fire  of  affliction  is  put 
ULder  to  distil  it  out.  — Brooks^  1608-1680, 

(370 r.)  As  musicians  sometimes  go  through  per- 
plexing mazes  of  discord  in  order  to  come  to  the 
inexpressible  sweetness  of  alter-chords,  so  men's  dis- 
cords of  troulile  and  ciiromatic  jars,  if  Gotl  be  their 
leader,  are  only  preparing  for  a  resolution  into  such 
harmonious  strains  as  could  never  have  been  raised 
except  upon  such  undertones.  Most  persons  are 
more  anxious  to  stop  their  sorrow  than  to  carry  it 
forward  to  its  choral  outburst.  "  Now,  no  chasten- 
ing (or  the  present  stemeth  to  be  joyous,  but  griev- 
ous ;  nevertheless,  ajlet-ward,  it  yieldeth  the  peace- 
able Iruits  of  righteousness  unto  them  that  are 
exercised  thereby."  — Beecher. 

(3702.)  Are  you  crushed  by  some  recent  grief? 
Is  it  hard  to  say  and  mean,  "  'i'hy  will  be  done  "  ? 
Does  your  trial  look  as  if  it  could  never  wear  to- 
wards you  an  expression  of  benehcence  ?  A  statue, 
rellecting  more  than  mortal  grace  and  loveliness, 
will  disguise  and  distort  its  matchless  proportions 
to  one  standing  beneath  its  pedestal,  lie  patient  : 
you  are  too  near.  Wait  ;  and  "good"  (Kom.  viii. 
28)  shall  not  fail  to  disclose  its  perfect  image. 

— henry  Batchelor. 

(9.)  All  temporal  sorr<nvs  are  but  ''light  aj/lic- 
tiotts"  IH  comparison  rvilh  the  evils  from  which  they 
deliver  us,  and  the  glories  for  which  they  prepare  us. 

(3703.)  Grievous  and  heavy  trials  did  Paul  very 
frequently  and  abundantly  sustain  ;  buC  in  very  deed 
the  Holy  Spirit  was  with  him  in  the  wasting  of  the 
outward  man,  to  renew  the  inner  man  from  day  to 
day,  and  by  the  taste  of  spiritual  rest  in  the  afflu- 
ence of  the  delights  of  God,  to  soften  down,  by  the 
hope  of  future  blessedness,  all  present  hardships, 
and  to  alleviate  all  heavy  trials.  Lo,  how  sweet  a 
yoke  of  Christ  did  he  bear,  and  how  light  a  burden ! 


so  that  he  could  say  that  all  those  hard  and  grievous 
sufferings,  at  the  recital  of  which  every  hearei 
shudders,  were  a  light  tribulation ;  as  he  beheld 
with  the  inward  eyes — the  eyes  of  faith — at  how 
great  a  price  of  things  temporal  must  be  purchased 
the  life  to  come,  the  escape  from  the  everlasting 
pains  of  the  ungodly,  the  full  enjoyment,  free  from 
all  anxiety,  of  the  eternal  happiness  of  the  right- 
eous. 

Men  suffer  themselves  to  be  cut  and  burnt,  that 
the  pains,  not  of  eternity,  but  of  some  more  lasting 
sore  than  usual,  may  be  bought  oif  at  the  price  of 
severer  pam. 

For  a  languid  and  uncertain  period  of  a  very 
short  repose,  and  that,  too,  at  the  end  of  life,  the 
soldier  is  worn  down  by  all  the  hard  trials  of  war, 
restless  it  may  be  for  more  years  in  his  labours  than 
he  will  have  to  enjoy  his  rest  in  ease. 

To  what  storms  and  tempests,  to  what  a  fearful 
and  tremendous  laging  of  sky  and  sea,  do  the  busy 
merchantmen  expose  themselves,  that  they  may 
acquire  riches,  inconstant  as  the  wind,  and  full  of 
perils  and  tempests,  greater  even  than  those  by 
which  they  were  acquired  ! 

What  heats  and  colds,  what  perils  from  horses, 
from  ditches,  from  precipices,  from  rivers,  from 
wild  beasts,  do  huntsmen  undergo  1  what  pain  of 
hunger  and  thirst,  what  straitened  allowances  of  the 
cheapest  and  meanest  meat  and  drink,  that  they 
may  catch  a  beast  !  and  sometimes,  after  all,  the 
flesh  of  the  beast  for  which  they  eiidure  all  this  is 
of  no  use  for  the  table.  And  although  a  boar  or  a 
stag  be  caught,  it  .'s  more  sweet  to  the  hunter's  mind 
because  it  has  been  caught,  than  to  the  eater's  palate 
because  it  is  dressed. 

IJy  what  sharp  corrections  of  almost  daily  stripes 
is  the  tender  age  of  boys  brought  under  !  By  wliat 
great  pains,  even  of  watching  and  abstinence,  are 
they  exercised,  not  to  learn  true  wisdom,  but  lor  the 
sake  of  riches,  and  the  lionours  of  an  empty  show, 
that  they  may  learn  arithmetic,  and  other  literature, 
and  the  deceits  of  eloquence  ! 

Now  in  all  these  instances,  they  who  do  not  love 
these  things  feel  them  as  great  severities  ;  whereas 
they  who  love  them  endure  the  same,  it  is  true,  but 
they  do  not  seem  to  feel  them  severe  ;  for  love 
makes  all,  the  hardest  and  m^st  distressing  things, 
altogether  easy,  and  almost  nothing.  How  nmch 
more  surely,  then,  and  easily,  will  charity  do,  with 
a  view  to  true  blessedness,  that  which  mere  desire 
does  as  it  can,  with  a  view  to  what  is  but  misery  ! 
How  easily  is  any  temporal  adversity  endured  if  it 
be  that  eternal  punishment  may  be  avoided,  and 
eternal  rest  procured  !  Not  without  good  reason 
did  that  vessel  of  election  say  with  exceeding  joy, 
"  The  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy 
to  be  compared  with  the  glory  which  shall  be  re- 
vealed in  us"  (Rom.  viii.  18). 

— Augustine,  353-429. 

(3704.)  Tet  me  wither  and  wear  out  mine  age  in 
a  discomfortable,  in  an  unwholesome,  in  a  penurious 
prison,  and  so  pay  my  debts  with  my  bones,  and 
recompense  the  wastelulness  of  my  youth  with  the 
beggary  of  my  age  ;  let  me  wither  in  a  spital,  under 
sharp,  and  foul,  and  infamous  diseases,  and  so  re- 
compense the  wantonness  of  my  youth  with  that 
loathsomeness  in  mine  age  ;  yet,  if  God  withdraw 
not  His  spiritual  blessings.  His  grace,  His  patience, 
— if  1  can  call  my  suflering  His  doing,  my  passion 
His  action,  all  this  that  is  temporal  is  but  a  cater- 

2  £ 


PATIENCE, 


C    626    ) 


PA  71ENCE. 


pillar  got  into  one  corner  of  my  garden,  but  a  mil- 
dew fallen  upon  one  acre  of  my  corn  ;  the  body  of 
all,  the  substance  of  all,  is  safe,  as  long  as  the  soul 
is  safe.  Donne,  1573- 1631. 

10.  Afflictions  endure  bitt  '*  for  a  moment. " 
(3705-)  As  an  appreiuice  holds  out  in  hard  lab- 
our, and  (it  may  be)  bail  usage,  for  seven  years  or 
more,  and  in  all  that  time  is  serviceable  to  his 
master  without  re])iuing,  because  he  sees  that  his 
bondage  will  not  last  always  :  thus  should  every  one 
that  groaneih  under  the  burden  of  any  affliction 
whatsoever  briiUe  his  affections,  possess  his  soul  in 
patience,  and  cease  from  ail  murmuring,  considering 
well  with  himself,  that  the  rod  of  the  nicked  sliall 
not  always  rest  upon  the  lot  of  the  rigiueous  ;  that 
weeping  may  aiiiile  at  evening,  but  joy  cometh  in 
the  morning;  and  that  troubles  will  have  an  end, 
and  not  continue  for  ever.  — Webb,  1658. 

(3706.)  The  cloud  of  trial  while  it  drops.  Chris- 
tian, is  rolling  over  thy  head,  and  then  comes  fair 
weather  wiili  eternal  sunshine  of  glory.  "Canst 
thou  not  watch  with  Christ  one  hour?" 

— (Jumalt,  1617-1679. 

V.    ITS    POWER. 
1.  Exemplified  In  Job. 

(3707-)  1  lie  enemy,  full  of  rage,  and  striving  to 
conquer  the  fnm  breast  of  that  holy  man,  set  up 
against  him  llie  engines  of  temptation,  spoiled  his 
substance,  slew  his  cliiklren,  smote  his  body,  insti- 
gated Ids  wile,  and  while  he  brought  his  friends  to 
console  him,  urged  them  to  tlie  harshest  upbraid- 
ing. One  Iriend  too,  who  was  more  cruel  in  his 
reproaches,  he  reserved  with  the  last  and  bitterest 
invective  ;  lliat  by  the  frequency  of  the  stroke,  if 
not  otherwise,  the  heart  might  be  reached  by  that 
which  was  ever  being  repeated  with  a  fresh  wound. 
For  because  he  saw  that  he  had  power  in  the  world, 
he  thought  to  move  him  by  the  loss  of  his  substance, 
and  finding  him  unshaken,  he  smote  him  by  the 
death  of  his  cliiklren.  Ijut  seeing  that  from  that 
wound  whicii  made  him  chiklk-ss  he  even  gained 
strength  to  the  greater  magnifying  of  God's  piai.se  ; 
he  asked  leave  to  smite  the  iieajth  of  bit  body.  See- 
ing, moreover,  that  by  the  pain  of  tiie  body  iie  could 
not  compass  the  affecting  ol  the  mind,  he  instigated 
his  wife,  for  he  saw  that  the  city  which  he  desired 
to  storm  was  too  strong  ;  therelore  by  bringing  ujion' 
him  so  many  external  plagues,  he  leil  an  army  as  it 
were  on  the  outside  against  him,  but,  when  he 
kindled  the  feelings  of  his  wife  into  words  of  mis- 
chievous persuasion,  it  was  as  though  he  corrupted 
the  hearts  of  tiie  citizens  within.  For  so  from  ex- 
ternal wars  we  aie  instructed  how  to  think  of  those 
within.  For  an  enraged  enemy,  that  holds  a  city 
encircled  by  his  surrounding  armies,  upon  perceiv- 
ing its  fortifications  to  remain  unshaken,  betakes 
himself  to  other  methods  ol  attack,  with  this  object, 
that  he  may  corrupt  the  hearts  of  some  of  the  cili- 
sens  also  within  ;  so  that,  when  he  has  led  on  the 
assailants  from  without,  he  may  also  iiave  co-opera- 
tion within,  and  that  when  the  heat  of  the  battle 
increases  outside,  the  city  being  left  without  succour 
by  the  treachery  of  those  witliin,  of  whose  faith  no 
doubt  is  felt,  may  become  his  prey. 

And  thus  a  batteiing-ram  having  been  planted 
on  the  outside,  as  it  were,  he  smote  the  walls  of 
this  city  with  blows  many  in  number,  as  the  several 
times  that  he  brought  tidings  ol  calamities ;  while 


on  the  inside,  he,  as  it  were,  corrupted  the  heartf 
of  citizens,  when  he  set  himself  to  undermine  the 
strong  bulwarks  of  this  city  by  the  persuasions  of 
the  wi:e.  In  this  manner  he  biought  to  bear,  from 
without,  an  hostile  assault  from  within,  baneful 
counsels,  that  he  might  capture  the  city  the  sooner, 
in  proportion  as  he  troubled  it  both  from  within 
and  from  without.  But  because  there  are  times 
when  words  are  more  poignant  than  wounds,  he 
armed  himself,  as  we  have  said,  with  the  tongue; 
of  his  frientls.  Those  indeed  that  were  of  graver 
years,  might  perchance  give  the  less  pain  by  their 
vvorils.  The  younger  is  made  to  take  their  place, 
to  deal  that  holy  bosom  a  wound  so  much  the 
shaiper,  the  meaner  was  the  aim  that  he  impelled 
to  siiike  Islows  against  it.  Behold  the  enemy  mad 
to  strike  down  his  indomitable  strength,  how  many 
daits  of  tcm|)tatiun  that  he  de\isetl,  see  what 
numberless  beleaguering  engines  he  set  about  him  ! 
See  how  many  weapons  of  as>ault  he  let  fly,  but  in 
all  his  mind  continued  undaunted,  the  city  stood 
unshaken. 

It  is  the  aim  of  enemies,  when  they  come  up  face 
to  face,  to  send  off  sonie  in  secret,  who  may  be  so 
much  the  more  fee  to  strike  a  blow  in  the  tlank  of 
the  hostile  lorce,  in  projiortion  as  he  that  is  fighting 
is  moie  eagerly  intent  u])on  the  enemy  advancing 
in  front.  Job,  therefore,  being  caught  in  the  war- 
lare  of  this  conllict,  received  the  losses  which  befell 
him  like  foes  in  his  front  ;  he  took  the  words  ot 
comforters  like  enemies  on  his  flank,  ami  in  all 
turning  round  the  shield  of  his  steadfastness,  he 
stood  defctided  at  all  points,  and  ever  on  the  watch, 
parried  on  all  sitles  the  swords  directed  against 
liim.  By  his  silence  he  marks  iiis  unconcern  for 
the  loss  of  his  substance;  the  flesh,  dead  in  his 
children,  he  bewails  with  composure  ;  the  tlesh  in 
his  own  person  sliicken,  he  endures  with  fortitude; 
the  flesh  in  his  wife  suggesting  mischievous  persua- 
sions, he  instiucts  with  wisdom.  In  addition  to 
all  this  his  friends  start  forth  into  the  bitteiness  of 
upbraitling,  and  commg  to  appease  his  grief,  in- 
crease its  lorce.  Thus  all  tlie  engines  of  temptation 
are  turned  by  this  holy  man  to  the  augmentation  of 
his  virtues  ;  for  by  the  wounds  his  patience  is  tried, 
and  by  the  words  his  wisdom  is  exercised.  Every- 
where he  meets  the  enemy  with  undaunted  mien, 
for  the  scourges  he  overcame  by  resolution,  and  the 
words  by  reasoning.  — Gregory,  545-604. 

2.  Exemplified  in  our  Lord. 

(3708.)  There  was  in  Christ  regitunt  patieutice,  a 
kingdom  of  patience,  as  well  as  regntim  potenlicE,  a 
kingdom  of  power  and  glory.  There  was  a  king- 
dom of  patience  ;  that  is  such  a  kingdom  as  Christ 
exeicised  in  His  greatest  abasement,  whereby  lie 
made  all  things,  even  the  worst,  to  be  serviceable 
to  llis  own  turn  and  the  Chuich's.  So  in  every 
member  of  His,  there  is  a  kingdom  of  patience  set 
up,  whereby  He  subjects  all  things  to  liim.  To 
make  it  yet  clearer. 

When  Christ  died,  which  was  the  lowest  degree 
of  abasement,  there  was  a  kingdom  of  patience 
then.  What  !  when  He  was  subdued  by  death 
and  Satan,  was  there  a  kingdom  then  ?  Yes,  a 
kingdom,  for  though  visibly  He  was  overcome  and 
nailed  to  the  cross,  yet  invisibly  He  triumphed  over 
principalities  and  powers.  Christ  never  conquered 
more  than  on  the  cross.  When  He  died  He  killed 
death,  and  Satan,  and  all.  And  did  not  Christ 
reign  on  the  cross  when  He  converted  the  thief? 


PATIENCE. 


(    627     ) 


PRAYER. 


when  the  sun  was  astonished,  and  the  earth  shook 
anJ  moved,  aiui  the  liglit  was  eclipsed?  Who 
cares  for  Ca;sar  when  he  is  dead  ?  But  what  more 
efficacious  tiian  Christ  wlien  He  died  ?  He  was 
most  piacticai  when  lie  seemed  to  do  nothini^. 
In  patience  lie  reigned  and  triumphed  ;  He  siU)- 
j-ecied  the  greatest  enemies  to  Himself,  Satan,  and 
death,  and  the  wrath  of  God,  and  all.  In  the  same 
manner  all  things  are  ours,  the  wor-t  things  that 
befall  Goil's  children,  death,  and  alllictions,  antl 
persecutions.  There  is  a  kingdom  of  patience  set 
up  in  them.  The  Spiiit  ol  God  subdues  all  base 
fears  in  us,  and  a  child  of  God  never  more  triumphs 
than  in  his  greatest  troubles.  Ihis  is  that  that  the 
Apostle  sa)s,  "  In  all  these  things  we  are  more  than 
conquerors."  How  is  that,  that  in  those  great 
troubles  we  should  be  "conquerors  and  more"? 
Thus  the  si)irit  of  a  Christian,  take  him  as  a  Chris- 
tian, leigns  and  triumphs  at  that  time.  For  the 
devil  and  the  world  labour  to  subtlue  the  spirit  of 
Gotl  s  cliililren  and  their  cause.  Now  to  take  them 
at  the  woist,  the  cause  they  stand  for,  and  will 
stand  for  it  ;  and  the  spirit  they  are  led  with  is 
undaunted.  So  that  the  Spirit  of  Christ  is  vic- 
torious and  conquering  in  them,  and  most  of  all  at 
such  times.  — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

VI.    MUST  HAyS  ITS  PERFECT  WORK. 

(3709.)  As  it  is  not  sufficient  for  a  good  pilot  to 
take  jjains  in  breaking  one  dangerous  billow,  or  in 
pa-sing  one  storm,  but  he  must  show  the  like  care 
land  diligence  in  well  governing  the  ship,  till  he 
arrive  salely  at  the  wished  haven  ;  and  as  it  is  not 
cnou.gli  for  a  good  soldier  to  show  great  valour  in 
the  first  brunt  of  the  battle,  if  afterwanls  he  shame- 
fully hee,  or  fight  faintly  and  cowardly,  but  he 
must  courageously  continue  hghiing,  till  he  have 
vanquished  the  enemy  and  obtained  victory:  so  it 
is  not  >ufficient  to  the  being  of  Christian  patience, 
that  we  brook  and  bear  well  one  storm  of  misery, 
and  through  our  slackness  and  negligence  sink  or 
be  wrecked  in  the  next  ;  but  after  one  billow  of 
aflliction  and  tempest  of  trouble  is  past,  we  must 
expect  and  prepare  ourselves  to  endure  another, 
until  we  safely  arrive  in  the  haven  of  happiness. 
It  is  n<3t  enough  for  a  Christian  soldier  that  he 
demean  hini>ell  well  in  the  first  conflict  with  afflic- 
tions, if  he  alterwards  grow  weary  of  fighting,  and 
flee  out  of  the  field  by  using  unlawful  means  of 
escape  ;  or  fight  faintly  and  not  without  grudging 
antl  niu'^muiing  against  his  commander  for  bring- 
ing him  into  the  troubles  and  dangers  ;  but  lie 
must  constantly  continue  his  courage,  after  one 
encounter  expecting  and  pie|)aring  himself  to 
sustain  another,  and  never  cease  showing  his  un- 
wearied magnanimity  till  he  have  obtained  a  full 
and  linal  victory.  — Low7iame,  1644. 

(3710.)  Patience  must  not  be  an  inch  shorter 
than  aliliction.  If  the  briilge  reach  bnt  half-way 
over  the  brook,  we  shall  have  but  an  ill-favoured 
passage.  — AJams^  1653. 

(37 1 1.)  Patience  is  seen  in  waiting  as  well  as 
suffering.  To  l)ear  a  little  while  is  but  the  imper- 
fect work  of  patience,  some  lesser  degree  of  it  ;  as 
to  know  a  letter  or  two  in  the  book  is  but  an  im- 
perfect kind  of  reading.  But  to  bear  much  and 
long,  that  is  the  perfect  work.  To  lift  up  some 
heavy  thing  from  the  ground  argues  some  strength  ; 


but  to  carry  it  for  an  hour,  or  all  day,  is  a  mora 
perfect  thing.  — Matiton,  1620-1667. 

(3712.)  When  the  husbandman  has  laboured  in 
his  field  and  sown  his  seeil,  he  cannot  at  once 
raise  bread.  What  avails  his  haste?  What  avail? 
his  fretting?  He  may  fret  because  the  host  set? 
in;  he  may  het  because  thcie  seems  to  him  to  be 
too  much  rain  ;  but  how  will  his  fretting  benefit 
him?  Will  his  impatience  alter  the  state  of  the 
ground?  will  it  change  the  weather?  will  it  forward 
the  harvest  ?  His  impatience  can  do  no  good  ;  but 
his  patience  can  :  his  trusting  of  God,  and  quieting 
of  himself  to  wait  the  appointed  seasons,  sleeping 
and  rising,  and  rising  and  sleeping,  while  the  corn 
is  growing  he  knows  not  how.  Thus  "  the  hus- 
bandman waiteth  for  the  precious  fruit  of  the  earth, 
and  hath  long  patience  for  it,  until  he  receive  the 
early  and  latter  rain;"  that  is,  he  comes  into  the 
order  of  God  :  he  has  patience  « ith  God  :  he  goes 
on,  trusting  that,  in  God's  way,  he>  shall  obtain  the 
promised  harvest.  "Now,  therefore,"  as  if  the 
Apostle  had  said — "  Look  at  him.  You  must 
hope  for  success  in  the  same  way.  Does  he  use 
means  ?  So  must  you  ;  and  you  must  have  patience 
like  him."  — Cecil,  1748-1810. 

{3713  )  You  are  tender-hearted,  and  you  want  to 

be  true,  and  are  trying  to  be  ;  learn  these  two  things 
from  our  text, — never  to  be  discouraged  because 
good  things  get  on  so  slowly  here,  and  never  to  fail 
to  do  daily  that  good  whicli  lies  next  to  your  hand. 
Do  not  be  in  a  hurry,  but  be  diligent.  Enter  into 
the  sublime  patience  of  the  Lord.  Be  charitable 
in  view  of  it.  God  can  afford  to  wait  ;  why  can- 
not we,  since  we  have  Him  to  fall  back  u])on  ?  Let 
patience  have  her  perfect  work,  and  bring  forth  her 
celestial  fruits.  Trust  God  to  weave  in  your  little 
thread  into  the  great  web,  though  the  pattern 
shows  it  not  yet.  When  God's  people  are  able  and 
willing  thus  to  labour  and  wait,  remember  that  one 
day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a 
thousand  years  as  c«ie  day  ;  the  giand  harvest  of 
the  ages  shall  come  to  its  reajiing,  and  the  tlay  shall 
broaden  itself  to  a  thousand  years,  ami  the  thousand 
yeais  shall  show  themselves  as  a  perfect  and  tinished 
day  1  — George  Macdonald. 


PRAYER. 

I.    ITS  NA  TURE. 

(3714.)  Prayer  may  be  supplication,  or.  thanks- 
giving, or  confession.  Or  it  may  be  simple  inter- 
course. He  that  viiises  towanl  God  prays.  If  you 
can  conceive  of  a  child  in  the  presence  of  a  parent 
most  beloved  that  speaks,  that  is  silent,  that  speaks 
again,  that  is  again  silent  ;  now  thought,  now  fancy, 
now  feeling,  in  turn,  as  it  were,  wheeling  the  orb 
of  its  little  mind  round  completely,  so  that  on  every 
side  it  receives  light  or  gives  forth  light  to  the  parent, 
tl;e  inteicoiirse  of  that  child  with  the  parent  is  the 
fittest  syml'ol  of  true  prayer.     PkAYtiK  is  THE  SOUL 

OF  A  MAN    MOVING   IN  THE  PRESENCE  OF  CiOD,  for 

the  purpose  of  communicating  its  joy,  or  sorrow,  ot 
fear,  or  h'lpe,  or  any  oMier  conscious  experience 
that  it  may  have,  to  the  bosom  of  a  parent. 

— Beechcr, 


PR  A  YER. 


(    628    ) 


PRA  YER. 


ir.  IS  THE  NATURAL  EXPRESSION  OF 
NEED. 

(3715.)  A  company  of  men  say  they  cannot  pray 
privately,  tlieir  spirits  are  barren.  They  intimate 
much  pride  of  spirit,  for  if  a  man  be  sensible  of  his 
wants  you  need  not  supply  him  with  words.  If  a 
poor  tenant  come  to  a  landlord,  and  find  he  has  a 
hard  bart;ain,  let  him  alone  for  telling  his  tale.  I 
warrant  you  he  wiil  lay  open  the  state  of  his  wife 
and  children,  and  the  ill  year  he  has  had  ;  he  will 
be  eloquent  enough.  Take  any  man  that  is  sensible  of 
his  wants,  and  you  shall  not  need  to  dictate  words 
ti>  him.  There  is  no  man  that  has  a  humble  and 
broken  lieart,  though  he  be  never  so  illiterate,  but 
he  will  have  a  large  heart  to  God  in  this  kind. 

—Sibbes,  1577-1635, 

(3716.)  Praying  is  the  same  to  the  new  creature 
as  crying  is  to  the  natural.  The  child  is  not  learned 
by  art  or  example  to  cry,  but  instructed  by  nature  ; 
it  comes  into  the  woild  crying.  Praying  is  not  a 
lesson  got  by  forms  and  rules  of  art,  but  flowing 
frcni  principles  of  new  life  itself. 

—  Gurnall,  1 6 1 7- 1 6  79 . 

(37 '7  )  Prayer  is  not  a  bondage  to  a  heart  that  is 
full  of  iioly  feeling,  anil  a  head  that  is  full  of  divine 
knowledge ;  but  it  is  the  language  which  the 
promptings  of  the  thoughts  within  us  send  rushing 
to  our  tongue,  wdiich  it  were  the  cruellest  bondage 
of  nature  to  stifle.  Why,  it  were  to  muzzle  reason, 
and  knowledge,  and  piety,  and  purpose,  and  grati- 
tude, and  devotion,  —  to  doom  to  deep  dungeons  of 
silence  the  spiiit  which  boundeth  for  the  liberty  of 
utterance  and  enterprise.  And  who  could  endure 
that  confinement?  It  were  death,  and  worse  than 
death,  to  be  first  charged  with  so  much  elastic, 
buoyant,  resolute  animation,  and  then  bound  down 
to  rest  and  quietude  by  the  same  power  which  filled 
us.  Have  ye  seen  a  dumb  man  under  strong 
mental  excitement?  How  he  distorts  his  counte- 
nance with  fearlul  expression,  and  his  body  v\iih 
frightful  gesture,  and  opens  wide  the  portals  of 
speech,  and  strives  to  give  motion  to  his  lastened 
tongue,  while  hollow  workings  of  ineffectual  sound 
are  heard  deep  in  his  breast,  and  his  whole  body, 
hands,  and  feet,  and  writhing  frame,  labour  and  are 
in  distress, — so  that  the  very  soul  of  every  beholder 
is  touched  with  pity  and  deep  regret  to  see  a  felluw- 
creature  so  frustrated  of  the  glorious  faculty  of  ex- 
pressing thought  !  Even  such  unspeakable  pain, 
such  severe  amputation  of  the  religious  man's 
nature,  would  you  cause  were  ye  to  deprive  him  of 
prayer,  which  is  the  utter.Tnce  of  strong  desire,  and 
purpose,  and  feeling  unto  his  Maker. 

— Ji-vi7ig,  1 792- 1 834. 

(3718.)  There  is  a  sense  in  which  it  may  be  said 
that  prayer  is  natural  to  man.  Go  to  what  country 
you  will,  and  you  will  find  men  performing  religious 
rites,  and  foremost  among  these  is  prayer.  It  is  an 
exercis-j  natural  to  the  human  race.  "  But  so  many 
people  do  not  pray,"  you  say.  True  ;  and  so  many 
people  do  not  work.  And  yet  we  all  admit  that 
we  are  created  with  a  view  to  work  ;  the  hands  are 
designed  on  purpose  that  they  might  work  ;  many, 
nevertheless,  violate  the  law  of  tlitir  nature  and 
rehise  to  work.  But  labour  is  natural  to  man  for 
an  ihnt.  In  like  manner  we  are  constituted  with  a 
view  to  prayer ;  it  is  the  free,  spontaneous  outgusli 
cf  our  deeper   being.      Sometimes  we  arc  thrown 


into  circumstances  in  which  it  is  not  only  natural, 
but  imperative  on  us  to  cry  to  Mini  who  is  able  to 
save  u«.  That  was  the  case  now  with  Jacob.  He 
was  'educed  to  a  dread  extremity  ;  his  possessions 
were  in  imminent  peril;  the  "mother  with  the 
children "  was  in  extreme  danger ;  his  own  life 
might  be  snatched  away  at  any  moment.  In  such 
narrow  straits  humanity  is  always  compelled  to 
pray  ;  it  cannot  help  it.  When  in  health  and  pros- 
perity you  may  frame  elaborate  theories  to  demon- 
strate the  absurdity  of  prayer ;  but  let  death  stare 
you  in  the  face,  let  a  heavy  sorrow  or  bereavement 
overtake  you,  and  you  cannot  help  praying.  Job 
asks  concerning  the  hypocrite,  "Will  healwayscall 
upon  God?"  The  question  implies  that  the  g'idly 
calls  upon  God  at  all  limes  ;  but  even  the  hypocrite, 
the  ungodly,  calls  sometimes,  when  deep  tioubles 
encompass  his  path  and  darken  his  soul  with  their 
dense  shadows.  Tom  Paine  has  spent  his  days  in 
ridiculing  religion,  he  makes  merry  at  tiie  expense 
of  tho^e  that  believe  in  anotlier  world;  but  watch  1 
him  one  day  as  he  crosses  the  Atlantic.  The  sea 
rises,  the  sky  lowers,  the  wind  howls,  the  vessel 
tosses  restlessly  to  and  fro.  The  tempest  grows  iu 
fury  ;  the  huge  waves  threaten  to  engulf  the  ship  ; 
the  wild  wind  madly  yells  in  the  sails  and  fills  the 
air  with  clack  and  clamour  ;  the  crew  and  passen- 
gers are  fidly  persuaded  that  the  vessel  cannot  live 
long  in  such  a  sea.  Where  is  Tom  Paine,  the 
boastful,  vaunting  infidel?  On  his  knees,  beseech- 
ing the  Almighty  with  tears  and  supplications  to 
have  nieicy  on  his  soul.  I  do  not  say  that  to  cen- 
sure the  man  or  to  taunt  him  with  inconsistency, 
but  rather  to  vintiicate  his  character.  He  was  not 
so  bad  as  he  seemed  to  be,  not  quite  as  heartless  as 
he  tried  to  persuade  the  world  he  was.  All  honour 
to  the  inconsistencies  of  infidels  ;  they  only  prove 
that  their  hearts  are  better  than  their  theories,  that 
their  lives  are  nobler  than  their  faitli. 

—7.  C.  Jones. 

(3719.)  Sinking  times  are  praying  times  ^'\\\\  the 
Lord's  servants.  Peter  neglected  prayer  at  starting 
upon  his  venturous  journey,  but  when  he  began  to 
sink  his  danger  made  him  a  suppliant,  and  his  cry, 
though  late,  was  not  too  laic.  In  our  hours  of 
bodily  pain  and  mental  anguish,  we  find  ourselves 
as  naturally  driven  to  prayer  as  the  wreck  is  driven 
vipon  the  shore  by  the  waves.  The  fox  hies  to  its 
hole  for  protection  ;  the  bird  flies  to  the  wood  fo« 
shelter  ;  and  even  so  the  tried  believer  ha-tens  to 
the  mercy-seat  for  safety.  Heaven's  great  harbour 
of  refuge  is  All-prayer  ;  thousands  of  weather-beaten 
vessels  have  found  a  haven  there,  and  the  moment 
a  storm  comes  on,  it  is  wise  for  us  to  make  for  it 
with  all  sail.  — Spurgeon. 

IIL  IT  IS  A  RESOURCE  AVAILABLE  FOR 
ALL  god's  people  IN  ALL  THE  EMER- 
GENCIES  OF  LIFE. 

(3720.)  I  once  saw  a  grand  procession,  in  which 
an  oriental  monarch,  surrounded  by  a  thous.ind 
life-guards,  moved  to  the  sound  of  all  kinds  of 
music.  Some  unknown  subject  had  a  request  to 
urge.  He  knew  the  utter  impossibility  of  one 
breaking  through  the  guards  that  day  and  night 
surround  his  majesty.  That  humble  person,  perhaps, 
had  some  dear  friend  in  prison,  who,  according  to 
crientai  custom,  could  never  be  tried  or  freed  while 
the  prosecutor's  malice  or  purse  held   out.     They 


PRA  YER. 


(    629    ) 


PRA  YER. 


have  no  Habeas  Corpus  law  among  nations  without 

the  15ible. 

This  poor  creature  took  the  only  possible  way 
knosvn  to  one  unable  to  bribe  the  officers,  and  flung 
his  petition  over  the  heads  of  tlie  guarils,  and  it 
fell  at  the  feet  of  the  sovereign.  In  a  moment  one 
of  the  life-guards  pierced  it  with  his  bayonet,  and 
flung  it  back  into  the  crowd.  Ahis  !  the  proud, 
pleasure-loving  monarch,  amid  the  luxuriant  splen- 
dours of  his  court,  palace,  army,  and  plans  of  reajiing 
renown,  never  so  much  as  dreamed  of  noticing  the 
prayer  of  that  broken  heart  and  crushed  spirit. 
Not  thus  does  the  King  of  kings  treat  the  humblest 
suppliant  who. seeks  His  help  ! 

—  Van  Doren. 

(3721.)  The  communion  table  is  but  occasionally 
spread,  and  the  doors  ot  the  church  may  be  thrown 
open  only  once  a  «  eek  ;  but  the  pages  of  the  Bible 
are  ahva\s  ojien,  and  the  gates  of  prayer,  like  those 
of  heaven,  are  never  shut.  Prayer  i^  like  a  private 
postern,  through  which,  as  well  by  night  as  by  day, 
we  have  the  privilege  of  constant  access  to  the 
palace  and  presence  cl  the  King.  In  the  words  we 
learned  fioni  a  mother's  li])S,  and  lisped  at  her  knee, 
prayer  is  the  first  lioor  that  is  open  ;  and  it  is  the 
last  that  is  shut.  There,  where  a  man  is  tossing 
on  the  bed  of  death,  and  the  Bible  lies  shut  on  his 
pillow,  for  he  cann'ot  lead  it,  and  to  the  promises 
of  the  gospel,  which  we  pour  into  his  ear,  he  gives 
no  sign  of  a  sent,  for  he  cannot  hear  us.  Mark  these 
moving  lips  ;  listen  to  the>e  broken  sentences  ! 
Behold  he  prayelh  !  and  his  spirit,  breathed  out  in 
a  groan  or  sigh,  flies  heavenward  on  the  wings  of 
prayer.  — Guthrie, 

(3722.)  A  little  boy  once  went  with  his  father  to 
see  a  telegraph  office.  He  had  an  uncle  in  a  far-off 
city,  and  he  askeil  his  father  to  send  him  some 
message.  He  did  so.  Alter  wailing  al)0ut  half  an 
hour  the  answer  came.  It  was,  "  1  wdl  come  to 
see  you  at  Christmas,  and  bring  you  some  pretty 
toys."  The  little  boy  thought  this  very  wonderful 
indee<l.  As  they  walked  homewards  he  could  talk  of 
iiothing  else  but  the  telegraph  w  ires.  "  Father,"  said 
he,  "did  you  ever  hear  of  a  message  being  sent  so 
far,  and  an  answer  returned  in  so  short  a  time?" 
"  Oh  !  yes,  my  son  ;  I  know  a  way  by  which  mes- 
sages are  sent,  and  answers  brought  back,  in  a 
much  less  time  than  by  the  telegiaph  wires." — "  Do 
lell  me,"  said  the  liiile  boy,  "what  it  is,  and  how 
it  can  be  quicker  and  better  than  tliat?"  The 
father  then  said  to  him,  "  \'ou  remtrmber  that  it  was 
some  time  before  you  could  get  a  chance  to  send 
your  message.  You  had  to  wait  until  others  were 
atiended  to.  But  in  the  way  I  speak  of,  you  are 
not  hindered  by  others.  Thousands  can  send  their 
messages  at  the  same  moment,  and  answers  can  be 
sent  back  to  them  all.  Then  theie  are  the  wires,  and 
the  machinery,  and  the  electricity,  and  the  man  who 
works  it.  These  must  all  be  kept  in  good  order  ; 
and  they  t;ike  a  gooil  deal  of  care  and  attention. 
Besides,  there  are  only  certain  hours  in  the  day 
when  your  me  sages  can  be  sent.  Now,  by  the 
plan  1  tell  you  of,  \ou  need  n'.>ne  of  these  things. 
Vou  need  no  man  to  tell  the  message  lo,  no  wires  to 
carry  it,  no  HKichine  to  keep  in  order,  and  you 
can  send  your  message  at  midnight,  or  at  day- 
dawn,  or  any  iiinm  nt  you  please."  "  What, 
father."  said  the  little  Ijny,  "  and  get  an  answer  to 
your  message  as  soon  as  Liv  the  telegraph?" — "  Yes, 


and  a  great  deal  sooner,"  said  tlie  father.  "  even 
before  you  tell  with  your  lips  what  you  want,  the 
answer  may  come  back.  Besides,  the  office  of  tha 
telegrai)h  is  alwa)S  in  some  town  or  city,  and  you 
niusl  go  to  it  before  you  can  send  your  message. 
But  the  way  I  speak  of  does  not  lequire  this.  \'ou 
may  be  in  y<iur  chamber,  or  lying  on  your  bed,  or 
hunting  in  the  woods,  or  in  liie  hekls,  or  at  school, 
or  anywliere  else,  and  you  can  send  your  message, 
and  get  an  answer  immediately.  Then  you  always 
have  10  write  down  your  message  by  the  telegraph. 
But  the  other  way  you  need  not  write  it  down  at 
all.  The  little  boy  who  has  noi  learned  his  letters, 
and  the  poor  servant  who  cannot  read,  can  send 
tiieir  messnges  as  well,  and  get  the  answers  as  soon, 
as  the  wisest  and  greatest  men  in  the  world.  How- 
ever simple  and  ignorant,  they  inay  be  attended 
to  just  as  soon  and  as  kindly  as  the  king  on  his 
throne."  "  Well,  well,"  said  the  little  boy,  "that 
is,  indeed,  a  wonderlul  thing.  Why  have  I  never 
heard  of  that  beiors  ?  Do  tell  me  where  I  shall 
find  an  account  of  it."  "I  will,"  said  the  father  ; 
"you  will  find  the  fullest  and  best  account  of  it  in 
the  Bible."  By  this  lime  they  had  rtached  home, 
and  the  little  boy  ran  and  brouglit  the  Bible.  The 
father  told  him  where  to  open,  and  he  read  the 
following  passages  (Isa.  Ixv.  24  ;  Iviii.  9  ;  Dan.  ix. 
21-23).  — Meade. 

(3723.)  "Pull  the  night-bell."  This  is  the  in- 
scni'tion  we  ot'len  see  wiitten  on  the  d»ior|iost  of 
the  shop  in  which  medicines  are  sold.  Some  of  us 
have  had  our  experiences  with  night-bells  when 
sudden  illness  has  overtaken  some  member  of  our 
households,  or  when  the  sick  have  rapidly  grown 
worse.  How  have  we  hurried  through  the  silent 
streets,  when  only  here  and  there  a  light  glimmered 
from  some  chamber  window  !  How  eagerly  have 
we  pulled  the  night-bell  at  our  j  hysician's  door; 
and  then,  with  prescription  in  hand,  have  sounded 
the  alarm  at  the  place  where  the  lemedy  was  to  be 
procured.  Those  of  us  who  have  had  these  lonely 
midnight  walks,  and  have  given  the  summons  for 
quick  relief,  know  the  meaning  of  that  Bible-text, 
•'Arise  !  cry  out  in  tlie  night!  " 

Seasons  of  trouble  and  clistress  are  often  spoken 
of  in  God's  Word  under  the  simile  of  night.  The 
word  vividly  pictures  those  t'uies -when  tne  skies 
are  darkened,  and  the  lights  that  gladden  the  soul 
have  gone  out,  and  it  is  not  easy  lo  find  one's  way. 
Enemies  may  be  stealing  on  us  in  the  darkness. 
Apprehensions  gather  like  fancied  spectres,  to 
make  us  uneasy  or  afraid.  Ii  pro-perily  lie  likened 
to  the  noonday,  the  seasons  of  perplexity  or  disti\.'ss 
may  be  likened  to  the  "night."  Perhaps  some  of 
the  readers  of  this  paragraph  may  be  in  a  gloomy 
night-season  of  poverty,  or  bereavement,  or  of 
spiritual  doubt  and  depression.  Each  heart  knoweth 
its  own  bitterness.  Friend,  arise,  and  pull  the 
night-bell  of  prayer!  God  your  Father  says  to 
you,  "Call  upon  me  in  the  time  of  trouble  ;  1  will 
deliver  thee,  and  thou  shall  glorify  Me." 

—  Cuyler. 

(3724.)  But  whatever  may  be  the  fortune  of  our 
lives,  one  great  extremity  at  least,  the  hour  of  ap- 
proaching death,  is  certainly  to  be  passed  through. 
What  ought  then  to  occupy  us?  What  can  then 
support  us?  I'rayer.  Piayer  with  our  blessed 
Lord  was  a  refuge  from  the  storm  :  almost  eveiy 
word  He  uttered  during  that  tremendous  scene  wa* 


PR  A  YER. 


(    630    ) 


PR  A  YER, 


prayer — prayer  the  most  earnest,  the  most  urgent ; 
repeated,  continued,  proceeding  from  the  recesses 
of  the  soul  ;  private,  solitary  ;  jirayer  for  deliver- 
ance ;  prayer  for  strength  ;  aijove  everything,  pi  ayer 
for  resignalion.  — Faley,  1743-1S05. 

IV.  IS  INDISPENSABLE  TO  THE  CHRIS- 
TIAN LIFE. 

1.  To  its  existence. 

(3725.)  Prayer  is  to  be  regarded  not  only  as  a 
distinct  exercise  ol  religion,  for  which  its  own  time 
must  be  set  apart,  but  as  a  [iroccss  woven  into  the 
texture  of  the  Christian's  mind,  and  extending 
through  the  length  ami  breadth  of  his  life.  Like 
the  golden  tlneail  in  a  tissue,  it  frequently  disappears 
beneath  the  common  thread.  Jt  disappears,  and 
is  hidden  from  the  eye  ;  yet  nevertheless,  it  is  sub- 
stantially there,  like  a  stream  running  underground 
for  a  certain  jierioti  of  its  course.  Suddenly,  the 
thread  emerges  into  sight  auain  on  the  upper  sur- 
face of  the  tissue,  and  sudilcnly  again  disappears; 
and  thus  it  penetiales  the  whole  texture,  althou;4h 
occasionally  iuchlen.  'I'his  is  a  very  just  illustra- 
tion of  tl'e  matter  in  hand.  Look  from  without 
upon  the  Christian's  life,  and  you  will  see  divers 
occupations  and  employments,  many  of  widch,  it 
may  be,  call  for  the  exercise  of  his  mind.  But 
beneath  the  mind's  surface  there  is  an  under  current, 
a  golden  tiiread  of  |irayer,  always  there,  thougli  often 
latent,  and  Ircquentlv  comes  up  to  view  not  only  in 
stated  acts  of  worship,  but  in  lioly  ejaculations. 

—  Goulburn. 

2.  To  its  sustenance, 

{3726  )  A  godly  man  will  seek  God's  face  ever- 
more (Ps.  cv.  4,  and  cxvi.  2)  ;  he  calieth  upon  God 
as  long  as  he  liveth.  Breathing  heavenward  in 
prayer  is  the  beginning  and  ending  of  his  spiritual 
life  upon  eartii,  as  we  see  in  Paul  (Acts  ix.  6)  anil 
Stephen  (Acts  vii.  60).  Paul  begins  his  lile  with 
prayer,  and  Stephen  ends  his  with  it. 

He  never  lakcth  his  leave  of  ])rayer  till  he  is 
entering  into  the  place  of  praise.  I'rayer  is  Ids 
element  ;  lie  cannot  live  without  it,  and  conmiunion 
with  God  ill  it.  Prayer  is  the  vessel  by  which  he 
is  continually  trading  into  the  Holy  Land  ;  he 
sendeth  it  out  fraiight  witli  precious  graces, — faith, 
hope,  desire,  love,  godly  sorrow,  and  the  like,  and 
it  Cometh  home  many  times  richly  laden  with  peace, 
joy,  and  intrease  of  faith.  — Swi>inock,  1673. 

(3727.)  Many  are  the  lawful  amusements  of  the 
Chri>liaii,  but  that  which  gives  the  highest  zest  to 
his  life  is  the  sjiint  of  prayer.  He  should  be  care- 
ful not  to  step  aside,  but  dwell  in  the  aimosphere 
of  prayer.  Like  the  ambient  air,  which  yields,  yet 
fills  all  space,  and  wide  interfused  embraces  the 
whole  eartli  as  the  princi])le  which  supports  life, 
quickening,  and  invigorating  wherever  it  comes — 
.such  sliould  be  the  spirit  of  prayer,  till  tiirough 
every  space  of  life  it  be  interfused  with  all  your 
employments,  and  wherever  you  are,  and  whatever 
you  do,  embrace  you  on  every  sitie.  Like  a  plea- 
sure ever  omnipresent,  never  ini]ieding,  but  gently 
leaving  room  for,  and  indescriliably  animating,  and 
giving  pleasure  to,  every  other  enjoyment. 

— Salter. 

(3728.)  The  first  true  sign  of  spiritual  life,  prayer 
Is  also  the  means  of  maintaining  it.  Man  can  as  well 
live  physically  without  breathing,  as  spiritually  with- 


out praying.  There  is  a  class  of  animals — tha 
cetaceous,  neither  fish  nor  sea-fowl,  that  inhabit 
the  deep.  It  is  their  home  ;  they  never  leave  it  for 
the  shore  ;  yet,  though  swimming  beneath  its  waves 
and  sounding  its  darkest  deiUhs,  they  have  ever  and 
anon  to  rise  to  the  surface  that  they  may  breathe 
the  air.  Without  that  the~e  monarchs  of  the  deep 
could  not  exi.->t  in  the  dense  element  in  which  they 
live,  and  move,  and  have  their  beiiiL:.  And  some- 
thing like  what  is  imposed  on  them  by  a  physical 
nece^si^y,  the  Christian  has  to  do  by  a  spiritual  one. 
It  is  by  ever  and  anon  ascending  up  to  God,  by 
rising  through  prayer  into  a  loftier,  purer  region 
for  supplies  of  iJivine  grace,  that  he  maintains  hii 
spiritual  life.  Prevent  ihe^e  animals  fiom  rising  to 
the  surface,  and  they  die  for  want  of  breath  ; 
prevent  him  from  rising  to  God,  and  he  dies  lor 
want  of  pi.nyer.  "  Give  me  children,"  cried  Rachel, 
"or  else  I  die."  Let  me  breathe,  says  a  man 
ga-ping,  or  else  I  die.  Let  me  pray,  says  the 
Christian,  or  else  1  die.  — Guthrie, 

V.    IS  A    TEST  OF   CHARACTER. 

1.  In  regard  to  th's  objacts  for  wliich  men  pray. 

(3729.)  It  has  been  a  subject  of  common  observa- 
tion and  remark  that  among  a  very  large  pro- 
]iortion  of  the  peoples  of  the  world  there  has 
been  almost  wholly  wanting  an  ethical  element  in 
prayers.  Material  benefits,  not  spiritual  gifts,  aie 
generally  desired.  Of  the  forms  of  word-prayer, 
perhaps  the  rudest  is  that  of  the  Zulu.  He  worships 
the  spirits  of  decea^^ed  relatives,  and  his  full  ritual 
is  given  as  "  I'eople  of  our  house — cliildren!" 
People  of  our  house,  rain,  or  cattle,  or  whatever 
else  he  wants.  When  he  sneezes,  he  supposes  ''the 
spirits  "  close  at  hand,  and  he  only  "  wishes  a  wish  " 
by  saying  wdiat  he  wants,  as  "cattle,"  "good  luck." 

In  Central  AlVica,  the  fetish  man  prays  for  bless- 
ings on  ilie  medicine  he  uses.  'Plie  Polynesian  prays 
to  his  "  Compassionate  Father,"  or  some  other  god, 
for  a  blessing,  or  to  "let  food  grow." 

'i"he  reii  Indian  prays  for  "good  luck  in  hunting," 
or  that  he  may  be  able  to  '"  take  scalps — to  take 
horses  ; '"  that  he  may  find  "  the  enemy  asleep  ;  " 
or,  on  the  great  lakes,  that  the  waters  may  be  calm 
while  he  passes  over. 

The  Karen,  in  liiirmah,  prays  that  his  fields  may 
be  guarded,  and  that  the  spirit  of  any  one  entering 
to  destroy  the  crops  may  be  bound  with  two  strings 
which  be  puts  in  the  padtiy-fields  for  the  purpose. 

Men  do  not  always  holil  a  remarkable  nmdera- 
tion  in  these  earthly  wishes.  The  wild  tribes  of 
Central  India  not  only  pray  for  preservation  from 
"snakes,  tigers,  and  stumbling  blocks,"  but  one  of 
the  Khond  prayers  is  to  the  effect  that  the  harvest 
may  be  so  great  that  so  much  of  the  seed  shall  fall 
as  it  is  being  gathered,  that  when  he  comes  next 
season  he  may  find  it  alrearly  growing  in  such 
quantity  as  that  it  shall  "look  like  a  young  corn- 
field." 

A  few  prayers,  however,  aie  discoverable  for 
moral  character.  The  Aztec  prays  for  sjiecilic 
virtues  to  be  imparted  to  his  rulers  ;  and  the  ancient 
Aryan,  of  Vedic  tunes,  though  he  mos'.  y  prayed 
for  sheep  and  cows  and  other  comforts,  yet  some- 
times sail!:  "  Phrough  want  of  strength,  thou 
strong  one,  have  1  gone  astray.  Have  mercy,"  &a 
The  Parsee  prays  for  forgiveness  for  deceit,  idol- 
worship,  and  other  faults. 


PJ^A  YER. 


(    631     ) 


PR  A  YER. 


Classical  heathendom  would  swell  our  illustrations 
beyond  [irojiortion.  Pericles,  Cornelius  Scipio, 
Plato  and  otliers,  commenced  iinporlaiit  affairs  v\ith 
prayer.  Prayer  was  made  to  preface  transactions 
in  the  Senate  and  in  luililary  affairs  ;  while  orations, 
the  beginning  of  the  year,  meais,  and  even  games 
and  wagers,  were  accompanied  with  prayer. 

— Gracey. 

8.  In  regard  to  the  temper  In  which  men  pray. 

(3730.)  A  gracious  man  is  never  weary  of  spiri- 
tual tilings,  as  men  are  never  weary  of  the  sun,  but 
though  it  is  enjoyed  every  day,  yet  long  for  the 
rising  of  it  again.  — Charnock,  162S-16S0. 

(3731.)  Among  the  wonders  which  science  has 
achieved,  it  has  succeeded  in  bringing  things  which 
are  invisible,  and  impalpable  to  our  senses,  within 
the  reach  of  our  most  accurate  observations.  Thus 
the  barometer  makes  us  acquainted  with  the  actual 
state  of  the  atmosphere.  It  takes  ci'gnisance  of 
the  slightest  vaii.uion,  and  every  change  is  jjointed 
out  by  its  elevaiion  or  depression,  so  diat  we  are 
accurately  acquainted  with  the  actual  state  of  the 
air,  an<l  at  any  given  time.  In  like  manner  the 
Christian  has  within  him  an  intlex  by  which  he 
may  take  cognisance,  and  by  which  he  may  measure 
the  elevation  and  degrees  of  his  spirituality — it  is 
the  fpiril  of  inward  devotion.  However  difficult 
it  may  seem  to  be  to  pronounce  on  the  invisibilities 
of  our  spirituality,  yet  there  is  a  barometer  to  deter- 
mine the  elevation  or  depression  of  the  spiritual 
]>rinciple.  It  marks  the  changes  of  the  soul  in  its 
aspect  towards  Cod.  As  the  spirit  of  prayer 
niounts  uj),  there  is  true  spiritual  elevation,  and  as 
it  is  restrained,  ami  falls  hivv,  there  is  a  depression 
of  the  spiiitLial  princi])le  within  us.  As  is  the  spirit 
of  lievolion  and  cummuiuon  with  God,  such  is  the 
man.  — Sailer, 

3.  In  the  regularity  with  which  men  pray. 

(3732.)  Grace  works  uniformly,  and  tliscovers  a 
comely  proportion  in  its  actings.  Haply  you  may 
see  the  son  of  a  prince  on  some  high  day,  in  richer 
and  more  glorious  apparel  than  on  another  day 
that  is  ordinary  ;  but  y<'U  shall  never  find  him  in  sor- 
did, laggeil,  and  beggarly  c.olhes,  still  he  w  ill  be  clad 
as  becomes  a  king's  son  Possibly,  yea,  it  is  likely, 
that  you  may  see  the  Christian  come  lorth  in  an 
exiraoniinary  day  and  duty,  with  more  enlargement 
of  affections  in  prayer,  and  ail  his  graces  raised  to 
a  higher  glory  in  their  actings  than  ortlinary  ;  but 
you  shall  never  find  him  with  his  robe  of  grace 
laid  aside;  still  the  true  saint  will  ''•"cia-.e  his  high 
birth  by  his  c very-day  couise;  he  will  not  live  in 
the  neglect  of  ortlinary  duties,  and  cast  off  com- 
munion with  God  in  his  daily  walking.  Oh,  'tis 
the  brand  of  an  hypocrite  to  have  his  demotion  come 
by  fits,  and  like  a  drilt  of  snow,  to  lie  thick  in  (me 
place  and  none  in  another;  to  seem  for  zeal  like 
angels  at  a  liiue,  and  live  like  atheists  many  weeks 
after.  — Gumall,  161 7-1679. 

(3733  )  "^^c  Christian  is  enjoined  to  "pray  with- 
out ceasing  :"  not  that  he  can  be  always  engaged 
in  the  positive  act,  but  he  ought  to  have  what  I 
call  a  holy  aptitude  of  prayer.  The  bird  is  not 
always  on  the  wing,  but  is  ready  to  fly  in  an  instant ; 
so  the  believer  is  not  always  on  the  wing  of  prayer, 
but  he  has  such  a  gracious  aptitutle  for  this  service, 
thai  he  is  prepared  m  an  instant,  when  in  danger 
or  need,  to  tiy  for  refuge  to  God.  — Salter, 


4.  In  regard  to  the  p-irlod  during  which  men 
pray. 

(3734.)  "Will  the  hvprjrite  pray  always?"  No 
as  the  wheel  wears  v/ith  lurning,  till  it  breaks  at  last, 
so  doth  the  liyi>ocrite.  He  prays  himself  weary  of 
praying  ;  something  or  other  will  in  time  make 
liirn  quarrel  with  that  duty,  which  he  never  in- 
wardly liked  ;  whereas  the  sincere  believer  hath 
that  in  him,  which  makes  it  impossible  he  should 
quite  give  over  praying,  except  he  should  also  cease 
believing.  Prayer  is  the  veiy  breath  of  faith  ;  stop 
a  man's  breath,  and  where  is  he  then  ?  '  lis  true  the 
believer,  through  his  own  negligence,  may  find  some 
more  difficulty  of  fetching  his  praying  breath  at 
one  time  than  at  another,  as  a  man  in  a  cold  doth 
for  his  natural  breath.  Alai  !  who  is  so  careful  of 
his  soul's  health,  that  needs  not  bewail  this?  But 
for  faith  to  live,  and  this  breath  of  prayer  to  be 
quite  cut  off  is  impossible.  'A'e  see  David  did  but 
hold  his  breath  a  little  longei  than  ordinary,  and 
what  a  distemper  it  put  him  into,  till  he  gave  him- 
self ease  again  by  venting  his  soul  in  prayer : 
"  1  held  my  peace,  and  my  sorrow  stirred,  my 
heart  was  hot  within  me  ;  while  I  was  musing, 
the  fire  burned,  then  spake  I  with  my  tongue.  Lord, 
make  me  to  know  my  end."  Host  thou,  O  man,  find 
thyself  under  a  necessity  of  praying,  as  the  little 
babe  who  cannot  choose  but  cry,  when  it  ails  or 
wants  anything,  because  he  hath  no  other  way  to 
help  itself,  than  by  crying  to  hasten  its  mother  or 
nurse  to  its  help?  The  Christian's  wants,  .sins,  and 
temptations  continuing  to  return  upon  him,  he 
cannot  but  continue  also  to  i>ray  against  tlieni. 
"  From  the  end  of  the  earth  will  1  cry  unto  Thee," 
saith  David  :  "wherever  1  am,  I'll  find  Thee  out  ; 
prison  me,  banish  me,  or  do  with  me  what  Thou 
wilt.  Thou  shall  never  be  rid  of  me,"  "  1  will  abide 
in  Ihy  tabernacle  lor  ever." 

—  Gumall,  161 7-1679. 

VI.  WHAT  PROFIT  SHOULD  IVE  HAVE, 
IF  WE  PKA  Y  UNTO  HIM  i 

1.  The  protection  of  God's  providence  will  be 
extended  to  us. 

(3735-)  J"  'h^  beginning  of  the  contest  with 
Britain,  when  we  weie  sensible  of  tianger,  we  had 
daily  prayers  in  this  room  for  the  Divine  protection. 
Our  prayers,  sir,  were  heard,  and  they  were  gra- 
ciously answered.  All  of  us  who  were  engaged  in 
the  struggle  must  have  observed  frequent  instances 
of  a  superintending  Providence  in  our  favour.  To 
that  kind  Providence  we  owe  this  happy  oppor- 
tunity of  consulting  in  peace  on  the  means  of 
establishing  our  future  national  felicity.  And  have 
we  now  forgotten  this  powerful  h  riend  ?  or  do  we 
imagine  we  no  longer  need  His  assistance?  I  have 
lived  for  a  long  time  [Si  years]  ;  and  the  longer 
1  live  the  more  C"nvincing  proofs  1  see  ol  this 
truth,  that  God  governs  in  the  affairs  of  man.  And 
if  a  sparrow  cannot  (all  to  the  ground  without  His 
notice,  is  it  probaljle  that  an  empire  can  rise  with- 
out His  aid?  We  have  been  assured,  sir,  in  the 
sacred  writings,  that  "  Except  the  Lord  build  the 
house,  they  lanour  in  vain  that  build  it."  1  hrndy 
believe  this;  and  1  also  believe  that  without  His 
concurring  aid  we  shall  proceed  in  this  political 
building  no  better  than  the  builders  of  Babel  :  we 
shall  be  divided  by  our  little,  jiartial,  local  interests; 
our  prospects  will  be  conlounded  ;  and  we  ourselves 
shall  become  a  reproach  and  a  by- word  down  1.0 


PR  A  YER. 


(    632    ) 


PR  A  YER, 


future  ages.     And  what   is  worse,  mankind   may 

hereafter,  from  this  unfortunate  instance,  despair 
of  establishing  government  by  human  wisdom,  and 
leave  it  to  chance,  war,  or  conquest.  I  therefore 
beg  leave  to  move  that  henceforth  prayers,  implor- 
ing the  assistance  of  Ileaven  and  its  blessing  on 
our  deliberations,  be  hehl  in  this  assembly  every 
uioriiing  before  we  proceed  to  business  ;  and  that 
one  or  more  of  the  clergy  of  this  city  be  requested  to 
officiate  in  that  service. 

— Biitjamin  I'raiiJdin:  Speech  in  Convention 
for  formino  a  Constitution  for  the  United 
states,  1787. 

2.  The  promises  of  God's  Word  will  be  fulfilled  to 
us. 

(3736.)  Prayer  is  the  gold  key  that  opens  heaven. 
The  tree  of  the  promise  will  not  drop  its  fruit, 
unless  shaken  by  the  hand  of  prayer. 

—  Watson^  1696. 

(3737-)  We  are  sometimes  told  that  prayer  is 
very  useful  in  its  influence  on  ourselves,  though  it 
cannot  be  supposed  to  influence  God  ;  and  that  we 
ouj;ht  to  pray,  therefore,  to  produce  in  ourselves 
pious  feelinj^s,  without  expecting  any  direct  answer 
iiom  Him  whom  we  invoke,  liut  who  would  pray 
if  deprived  of  all  hope  of  any  answer  to  prayer? 
Without  faith  it  is  impossible  to  pray  ;  for  "  he  that 
Cometh  to  God  must  believe  that  He  is,  and  that 
He  is  the  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently  seek 
Him."  Not  only  must  we  have  faith  in  ills  exist- 
ence, but  in  the  fact  that  He  does  answer  prayer. 
Both  are  needed  for  this  exercise.  The  secondary 
benefit  is  dependent  on  the  possibility  of  receiving 
a  primary  and  direct  benefit.  In  the  very  act  of 
seeking  the  latter  we  secure  also  the  former,  but 
the  expectatinn  of  the  objective  boon  prompts  the 
act  which  produces  the  subjective  benefit.  As  well 
might  a  physician  advise  a  patient  to  walk  every 
morning  to  drink  of  a  certain  spiing,  the  real 
benefit  being  the  walk,  but  the  inducement  being 
the  water,  which  at  the  same  time  he  stated  would 
not  be  found,  as  the  spring  was  dry.  The  exercise 
of  prayer — this  walk  of  laith — is  incalculably  bene- 
ficial to  the  soul  ;  but  it  is  essential  to  prayer  that 
there  should  be  the  expectation  of  obtaining  that 
for  which  we  pray.  — Newman  hall. 

3.  We  sliall  be  reminded  of  our  dependence  on 
God. 

(3738)  Tf  the  bounties  of  Heaven  were  given  to 
man  without  prayer,  they  would  be  received  with- 
out acknowledgment.  Prayer,  administering  the 
perpetual  lesson  of  humility,  of  hope,  and  ol  love, 
makes  us  feel  our  connection  with  heaven  through 
every  touch  of  our  necessities ;  it  binds  us  to 
Providence  by  a  chain  of  daily  benefits  ;  it  im- 
presses the  hearts  of  all  with  a  perpetual  remem- 
brance of  the  God  of  all,  — Croly. 

4.  Tlie  burden  of  our  soul  ■trill  be  relieved  by  the 
very  act  of  prayer. 

(3739' )  ft  is  a  mercy  to  pray,  though  T  never  have 
themeicy  prayed  for.  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(3740.)  Did  you  ever  see  a  little  child  rushing 
Aome  Irom  school  in  hot  haste,  wiili  glowing  cheeks 
and  tearful  eyes,  liurning  and  smarting  under  some 
•ancied  or  real  injustice  or  injury  in  his  school  liie? 
He  runs  through  the  street  ;  he  rushes  into  the 
house  ;  he  puts  off"  every  one  who  tries  to  comfort 


him.     *'  No,  no  !  he  doesn't  want  them  ;  he  wacti 

mother;  he's  going  to  tell  mother."  And  when 
he  finds  her  he  throws  himself  into  her  arms  and 
sobs  out  to  tell  her  all  the  tumult  of  his  leeliiigs, 
right  or  wrong,  reasonable  or  unreasonable.  "The 
.school  is  hateful  ;  the  teacher  is  hard,  and  the 
lessons  are  too  long  ;  he  can't  learn  them,  and  the 
boys  laugh  at  him,  and  won't  she  say  he  needn't  go 
any  more?" 

Now,  though  the  mother  does  not  grant  his 
foolish  petitions,  she  soothes  him  by  sympathy ; 
she  calms  him  ;  she  reasons  with  him  ;  she  inspires 
him  with  courage  to  meet  the  necessary  trials  of 
school-life — in  short,  her  grace  is  sufficient  for  her 
boy  ;  her  strength  perfects  his  weakness.  He 
comes  out  tranquillised,  calm  and  happy — not  that 
he  is  going  to  get  his  own  foolish  wishes,  but  that 
his  mother  has  taken  the  matter  in  han  I  and  is 
going  to  look  into  it,  and  the  right  thing  is  going 
to  be  done. 

Now  this  is  an  exact  illustration  of  the  kind  of 
help  it  is  for  us,  "in  ez>ery  thing  by  prayer  to  make 
known  our  requests  to  God."  'Phe  very  act  of 
confidence  is  in  itself  tranquillising,  and  iha  Divine 
sympathy  meets  and  sustains  us. 

— Mrs.  Beeclur  Stoitie. 

5.  We  shall  be  calmed  in,  and  strengthened  for, 
life's  conflicts. 

(3741.)  Prayer  does  not  directly  take  away  a  trial 
or  its  pam,  any  more  than  a  sense  of  duty  directly 
takes  away  the  danger  of  infection,  but  it  preserves 
the  strength  of  the  whole  spiritual  fibre,  so  that 
the  trial  does  not  pass  into  the  temptation  to  sin. 
A  sorrow  comes  upon  you.  Omit  prayer  and  you 
fall  out  of  God's  testing  into  the  devil's  temptation  ; 
you  get  angry,  hard  01  heart,  reckless.  But  meet 
the  dreadful  hour  with  prayer,  cast  your  care  on 
God,  claim  liim  as  your  Father  though  He  seem 
cruel — and  the  degrading,  paralysing,  embittering 
effects  of  pain  and  sorrow  pass  away,  sireams  of 
sanctifying  and  soltening  thought  pour  into  the 
soul,  and  that  which  might  have  wrought  your  fall 
but  works  in  you  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness. You  pass  irom  bitterness  into  the  courage 
ol  endurance,  ami  from  endurance  into  battle,  and 
from  battle  into  victory,  till  at  last  the  trial  dignifies 
and  blesses  your  life.  The  force  of  prayer  is  not 
altogether  effective  at  once.  Its  action  is  cumula- 
tive. At  first  there  seems  no  answer  to  your 
exceeding  bitter  cry.  But  there  lias  been  an 
answer.  God  has  heard.  A  little  grain  of  strength, 
not  enough  to  be  conscious  of,  has  been  given  in 
one  way  or  another.  A  friend  has  come  in  and 
grasped  your  hand — you  have  heard  the  lark 
sprinkle  his  notes  like  raindrops  on  the  earth — a 
text  has  stolen  iiUo  your  mind,  you  know  not  how. 
Next  morning  you  awake  with  the  old  aching  at 
the  heart,  but  the  grain  of  strength  has  kept  you 
alive — and  so  it  goes  on  ;  hour  by  hour,  day  by  day, 
prayer  brings  its  tiny  sparks  of  light  till  they  orb 
into  a  star  ;  its  grains  of  strength  till  they  grow 
into  an  anchor  of  the  soul,  sure  and  steadlasL 
The  answer  to  prayer  is  slow  ;  the  force  of  prayei 
is  cumulative.  Not  till  life  is  over  is  the  wlioie 
answer  given,  the  whole  strength  it  has  brought 
understood.  —  Stopford  Brooke. 

6.  Our  characters  will  be  ennobled. 

(3742.)  V'v'ould  you  measure  in  some  sort  ths 
gains  of  this  communioo  with  God  to  which  we  are 


PRA  YER. 


(    633     ) 


PRA  YER. 


admitted  and  invited,  consider  only  what  we  may 
gain  by  communion  with  good  and  holy  men,  and 
then  conclude  from  this  less  to  the  greater.  Con- 
sider, 1  say,  tlie  elevatiug,  ennobling  influences 
which  it  exercises  on  the  character  to  live  in  habi- 
tual intercourse  with  the  excellent  of  the  earih,  with 
those  whose  conversation  is  in  heaven,  the  tones  of 
whose  minds  are  high  and  lofty  and  pure.  Almost 
without  being  aware  of  it,  we  derive  some  of  their 
spirit  into  ourselves  ;  it  is  like  an  atmosphere  of 
health  which  we  unconsciously  inhale.  But  how 
much  mure  mu^t  this  be  the  case,  how  far  mightier 
the  reactive  influence  for  good,  when  we  continually 
set  belore  us,  when  we  live  in  fellowship  with  Ilim, 
who  is  the  highest,  the  purest,  and  the  best,  in 
whom  all  perieclions  meet,  from  whom  all  true 
nobleness  proceeds;  when  thus,  I  say,  our  fellow- 
ship is  not  with  men,  who  have  caught  a  few 
glimpses  of  the  gloiy  of  God,  but  with  God  Him- 
self, from  whom  all  greatness  and  glory  proceed  ? 

—  Trench. 

(3743.)  We  know  those  who  have  been  used  to 
kings'  courts  or  eiiucated  society  from  otiiers.  By 
their  voice,  accent,  and  language,  and  not  only  so, 
by  their  gestures  anil  gait,  by  their  usages,  by  their 
mode  of  conducting  themselves  and  their  principles 
of  conduct,  we  know  well  what  a  vast  difference 
there  is  between  those  who  have  lived  in  good 
society,  and  those  who  have  not.  What  indeed 
is  called  "good  society"  is  often  very  worthless 
society.  I  am  not  speaking  of  it  to  praise  it;  I 
only  mean,  that,  as  the  manners  which  men  call 
refined  or  courtly  are  gained  only  by  intercourse 
with  courts  and  polished  circles,  and  as  the  influ- 
ence of  the  words  there  used  (that  is,  of  the  ideas 
which  those  words,  striking  again  and  again  on  the 
ear,  convey  to  the  mind),  extends  in  a  most  subtle 
way  over  all  that  men  do;  over  the  turn  of  their 
sentences  and  the  tone  of  their  questions  and  replies, 
and  their  general  bearing,  and  the  spcjntaneous 
flow  of  their  thoughts,  and  their  mode  of  viewing 
things,  and  the  general  maxims  or  heads  to  which 
they  reler  them,  and  the  motives  which  deteimine 
them,  and  their  likings  and  dislikings,  hopes  and 
■  fears,  and  their  relative  estimate  ol  pcr^ons,  and 
the  intensity  of  their  perce)jtions  towards  particular 
objects;  so  a  habit  of  prayer,  the  practice  ol  turn- 
ing to  God  and  the  unseen  world,  in  every  season, 
in  every  place,  in  every  emergency  (let  alone  its 
supernatural  effect  of  prevailing  with  God),  —  prayer, 
I  say,  has  what  may  be  called  a  natural  eflect,  in 
spiritualising  and  elevating  the  soul.  A  man  is  no 
longer  what  he  was  before  ;  gradually,  imperceptibly 
to  himself,  he  has  imbibed  a  nev/  set  of  ideas,  and 
become  imbueil  with  fresh  principles.  He  is  as  one 
coming  from  kings'  courts,  with  a  grace,  a  delicacy, 
a  dignity,  a  propriety,  a  justness  of  thought  and 
taste,  a  clearness  and  firmness  of  principle,  all  his 
own.  Such  is  the  power  of  God's  secret  grace 
acting  through  those  ordinances  which  lie  has  en- 
joined us  ;  such  the  evident  fitness  of  those  ordinances 
to  produce  the  results  which  they  set  before  us.  As 
speech  is  the  organ  of  human  society,  and  the 
means  of  human  civdisation,  so  is  prayer  the  in- 
strument of  divine  fellowship  and  divine  training. 

— Ncivman. 

7.  Our  Bouls  will  be  enriched. 

(3744.)  I'rayer  chiefly  is  the  soul's  communion 
with  God.  It  is  chiefly  translation.  It  is  chiefly 
transtiguratioQ.      It   was   worth    more    to    Peter, 


James,  and  John,  to  stand  for  an  hour  and  see  the 
spirits  dawn  through  the  heaven,  and  talk  with 
Christ,  whose  face  shone  as  the  sun,  and  whose 
raiment  was  white  as  the  light,  than  if  the  three 
tal)ernacles  which  they  craved  had  been  built  of 
diamonds  and  rubies  on  the  mountain-top.  It  is 
what  we  get  by  the  sotil  that  makes  us  rich. 

— Bcecher. 

(374S-)  In  praying  we  are  blessed.  It  is  with 
prayer  as  with  study.  When  a  youth  is  at  college, 
he  is  apt  to  fancy  that  the  chief  reward  of  his 
industry  will  be  the  prize,  the  scholarship,  or  the 
degree  for  which  he  is  contending  ;  but  in  after 
years  he  finds  that  the  most  coveted  scholastic  prize 
is  not  to  be  compared  in  value  with  that  clearness, 
strength,  and  discipline  of  the  understanding  which 
in  his  studies  he  is  unconsciously  acquiring.  So  in 
prayer,  we  are  apt  to  imagine  that  the  chief  benefit 
of  our  supplications  will  be  the  obtainment  of  the 
blessing  for  which  we  make  request ;  and  yet 
nothing  outside  of  us  that  can  be  secured  by  prayer 
is  compaiable  in  preciousness  with  the  changes 
wrought  in  us  by  heartfelt  and  prolonged  com- 
munion with  God.  — R.  A.  Batram. 

8.  We  Etall  be  prepared  for  heaven. 

(3746.)  It  is  plain  to  common  sense  that  the  man 
who  has  not  accustomed  himself  to  the  language  of 
heaven  will  be  no  fit  inhabitant  of  it  when,  in  the 
Last  Day,  it  is  perceptibly  revealed.  The  case  is 
like  that  of  a  language  or  style  of  speaking  of  this 
world  ;  we  know  well  a  foreigner  from  a  native. 

— Newman. 

VII.    THE  METAPHYSICS  OF  PR  AVER. 

1.  The  secret  of  its  usefulness  and  power. 
(3747.)   I'rayer  is  useful, — I.  As  an  act  of  obedi- 
ence to  GoJ's  command. 

2.  As  the  performance  of  a  condition,  without 
which  He  hath  not  promised  us  His  mercy,  and  to 
which  He  hath  promised  it. 

3.  As  a  means  to  actual e,  and  express,  and  in- 
crease onr  own  humility,  dependence,  desire,  trust, 
and  hope  in  tiod,  and  >o  to  make  us  capable  and 
fit  for  mercy,  who  else  should  be  incapable  and 
unfit. 

4.  And  so,  though  God  be  not  changed  by  it  in 
Himself,  yet  the  real  change  that  is  made  by  it  on 
ourselves,  doth  infer  a  cliaiige  in  God  by  mere 
relation  or  extrinsical  denomination  ;  He  being,  ac- 
cording to  the  tenor  of  His  own  covenant,  engaged 
to  punish  the  unbelieving,  prayerless,  and  dis- 
obedient, and  to  pardon  them  that  are  faithfully 
desirous  and  obedient.  So  that  in  prayer,  faith  and 
fervency  are  so  far  from  being  useless,  that  they  as 
much  prevail  for  the  thing  desired  by  qualifying 
oil!  selves  for  it,  as  if  indeed  they  moved  the  mind 
of  God  to  a  real  change  ;  even  as  he  that  is  in  a 
boat,  and  by  his  hook  layeth  hold  of  the  bank,  doth 
as  truly  by  his  labour  get  nearer  the  bank,  as  if  he 
drew  the  bank  to  him.         — Baxter,  16 15-169 1. 

(3748.)  Prayer  procures  deliverance  from  trouble, 
just  as  Naaman's  dipping  himself  seven  times  in 
Jordan  procured  him  a  deliverance  from  his  leprosy  ; 
not  by  any  virtue  in  itself  adequate  to  so  great  an 
effect,  you  may  be  sure,  but  from  this,  that  it  was 
appointed  by  God  as  the  condition  of  his  recovery  ; 
and  so  obliged  the  power  of  Him  who  appointed  it 
to  give  force   and  virtue  to  His  own  institutions 


PR  A  VER. 


(    634    ) 


PRA  VER. 


beyond  what    the   nature  of  the  thing  itself  could 
otherwise  have  raised  it  to.    — South,  1633-1716. 

2.  Is  not  rendered  unnecessary  by  God's  faitli- 
fulness  to  His  promises. 

(3749.)  '"God's  ])iomises,  by  reason  of  His  un- 
chan[;tal)leness,  may  he  relied  on  ;  what  occasion, 
then,  of  prayer,  seeing  the  thing  promised  will 
come  roiiiul  of  its  own  steady  accord,  whtiher  you 
open  your  li]>s  or  no?"  Tiie  answer  is  short  and 
simple.  These  promises  are  made  only  to  tliose 
who  expect,  and  dcsiie,  and  ask  for  them.  They 
are  not  promised  indifferently,  and  come  out  of 
their  own  accord  to  all,  but  to  such  only  who  have 
meditated  them,  and  who  value  them,  and  desire 
them,  and  earnestly  seek  them  ;  being,  in  truth, 
too  valuable  to  be  thrown  about  to  a  scrambling 
mob  ;  being  the  high  and  holy  attractions  by  which 
God  intended  to  work  upon  the  nature  of  man,  and 
lead  it  out  of  its  present  low  and  sunken  estate  into 
glorious  liberty  and  unwearied  ambition  of  every 
nol^le  excellence.  Tliey  are  prizes  in  the  hand  of 
God  to  stimulate  the  soul's  activities, — more  glorious 
prizes  tlmn  laurel  wreaths,  or  the  trunipetings  of 
fame,  or  principalities  and  thrones, — antl  they  are 
yielded  only  to  an  application  of  faculiics,  at  the 
least,  as  intense  and  artlent  as  is  put  forth  in  pursuit 
of  human  ambition.  God  doth  not  cheapen  His 
promises  down  to  a  glance  at  them  with  the  eye, 
or  a  mouthing  of  them  with  the  tongue,  but  He 
requireth  of  those  that  would  have  them  an  admira- 
tion equal  to  that  of  lovers,  an  esliniatinn  equal  to 
that  of  royal  diatlems,  and  a  pursuit  equ.d  to  that 
of  Olympic  prizes.  — Jivtn^',  1792-1834. 

S.  It  Is  not  rendered  unnecessary  by  God's 
tmc^angeableness. 

(3750.)  Another  cavil  against  prayer  is  drawn 
from  the  unchaiigeableness  of  God.  Tliis  objec- 
tion is  another  instance  of  the  ease  with  wiiich 
men  find  objections  to  religion,  and  you  have 
only  to  ajiply  it  to  another  subject  in  order  to  dis- 
cern its  tallacy.  In  the  administration  ol  justice, 
its  inflcxibleness  or  uiichangeableness  is  that 
very  quality  which  makes  all  nun  bold  in  offering 
their  jietitions  in  its  courts.  ]f  it  were  at  the 
call  of  power,  or  parly,  or  selfishness,  or  favourit- 
ism, or  even  of  mercy,  it  would  be  unheethd, 
instead  of  awfully  respected,  and  surely  calculated 
on.  iJo  far  trom  hinilering  men  from  addressing 
prayers  which  are  consistent  with  the  laws  pro- 
mulgated, its  steadiness  of  ]Hirpose  is  the  very  life 
ot  all  >uch  peiitinns.  A  man  has  no  sooner  claim 
for  redress  than  he  expects  it  and  sues  it  out.  A 
man  is  no  sooner  delrauded  in  an  inferior  court, 
than  he  expects  and  petitions  for  justice  in  a  supei  ior. 
The  (locking  of  all  the  injured  in  the  kingdom  to 
the  judges  as  they  go  their  rounds,  and  to  the  magis- 
trates where  they  reside,  is  the  clearest  proof  oi  the 
effect  of  an  unchangeable  mood  of  operations  i:i 
begetting  confidence,  and  calling  forth  active  and 
urgent  requests. 

Now,  it  is  so  not  only  in  matters  of  justice,  but 
in  every  other  department  of  our  affairs.  A  father 
that  is  constant  in  his  procedure  is  sure  to  beget 
expectation,  and  desire,  and  confidence  in  his 
children  ;  who,  knowing  where  to  find  his  will  and 
pleasure,  look  for  it,  and  converse  of  it,  and  cal- 
culate on  it  as  a  thing  secure.  A  friend  that  is 
constant  in  his  friendship,  a  counsellor  that  is 
constant  in  his  wisdom,  a  master  tliat  is  constant 


in  his  requirements,  a  man  that  is  consistent  in  his 
]>ublic  or  private  behaviour, — each  one  of  these 
begets  expectation  and  anticipation,  which  are  the 
very  food  of  desire  and  of  prayer.  For  there  is 
little  or  no  desire  of  a  thing  which  we  have  no  hope 
of  obtaining.  It  is  the  expectation  begotten  which 
turns  chance  or  indifference  into  desire,  and  the 
desire  to  possess  is  the  only  thing  which  can 
justify  the  request  to  obtain.  .So  that  without 
expectation  Ineie  is  no  prayer  properly  so-called, 
and  \vith(.)ut  couNtancy  of  procedure  no  expectation 
will  be  generated  ;  so  that  constancy  is  the  soul  of 
prayer. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  am  willing  to  allow  that 
while  constancy,  either  in  the  laws  of  nature,  or  the 
ways  of  men,  or  the  promises  of  God,  begets 
expectation  and  desire  and  prayer  in  that  direction 
to  which  they  constantly  tend,  it  never  fails  to 
destroy  ex])ectatioii,  and  along  with  it  desire  and 
prayer,  in  liie  opposite  direction.  If  justice  be  in- 
flexible, it  is  vain  to  petition  against  it  ;  if  a  father 
be  unbending  from  the  rules  of  his  household,  his 
children  soon  learn  to  confine  their  wishes  and 
praxers  within  the  given  bounds.  And  a  friend 
who  is  known  to  be  staunch  is  not  bored  with 
undermining  surmises  ;  nor  a  counsellor  that  is 
always  wise,  with  lallacious  sophisms  ;  nor  a  master 
that  is  firm,  with  vain  suits  for  relaxation. 

While  steadiness  ot"  purpose  and  character  is  the 
life  of  expectation  and  prayer  within  the  bounds  of 
its  fixed  procc^uie,  it  is  the  death  of  all  without 
them. 

Now,  though  these  illustrations  bring  out  by 
example  the  truth  of  that  doctrine,  that  the  un- 
chaiigeableness of  (jod,  instead  of  begetting  torjwr, 
is  like  the  ioadstone,  which,  though  restful  itself, 
draws  all  things  towards  it,  that  it  is  all  the  ground 
U|Hjn  which  rests  that  anticipation  which  is  both 
wiiid  and  sails  to  the  movements  of  the  mind  ;  yet 
these  same  illustrations,  especially  that  from  justice 
and  an  unchangeable  lather,  have  in  them  a  hard- 
ness and  sternness  which  may  have  engendered  a 
wrong  conce])tion  of  God,  which  it  is  necessary  to 
remove  before  advancing  further.  If  God's  pro- 
mises did  embrace  nothing  but  abstract  justice,  and 
measure  out  nice  and  strict  desert,  then  their  un- 
changeableness  were  the  death-blow  to  all  expecta- 
tion ol  hiture  weal  ;  but  seeing  they  ct>ntain  mercy, 
and  forgiveness,  and  peace,  and  everlasting  blessed- 
ness to  all  who  receive  His  oracles  and  walk 
thereby,  —  being  a  rule  not  to  equity  only,  but  a 
rule  to  mercy  and  to  bounty,  and  to  whatever  else 
is  amiable  and  attractive  to  the  soul  of  man, —  it 
comes  to  pass  that  their  stability  and  unchangeabie- 
ness  is  the  stability  and  unchangeabkness  oi  that 
wise  and  wi<le  and  lovely  ailministration  which 
sufficeth  to  comfort  and  upbiiid  the  fallen,  as  well 
as  to  strike  down  and  discomfit  the  rehactory  and 
rebellious.  —Ji-viiig,  1792-1834. 

(375J')  Player  is  not  designed,  as  some  have 
mischievously  constiued  it,  to  alter  the  purpose  of 
God.  Some  have  saiii,  "God  is  omniscient,  and 
knows  all  things.  God  has  His  sovereign  purposes, 
and  has  declared  all  things.  Is  it  therefore,"  they 
say,  "possilile  that  your  prayers  can  alter  the 
l)urpose  of  Heaven;  or  that  He  whose  plans  have 
been  chalked  out  Irom  evei lasting  can  be  moved  to 
turn  aside  from  it  by  the  earnestness  or  eloquence 
of  your  entreaties?"  The  objection  that  has  beefi 
often  made  to  prayer,  is  practically  such  ks  this — 


FRA  YER. 


(  63s  ; 


PRA  YER. 


•'  God  is  omniscient,  therefore  He  knows  what  you 
warn.  What  is  the  use  of  telling  Him?"  'J'he 
answer  is  plain.  God  is  omnipotent.  He  can  give 
you  harvest  without  sowing.  What  is  the  use  of 
sowing?  But  nevertheless  you  sow,  and  neverihe- 
less  we  pray  ;  and  your  common-sense  will  tell  you 
that  it  is  truer  and  more  scriptural  than  the  meta- 
physics of  the  schools.  It  will  be  told  us,  God  is 
immutable  in  all  His  plans  and  purposes  and  acts  ; 
therefore  why  tiy  to  make  liim  change?  God  is 
immutable  in  the  principles  of  His  government, 
but  lie  is  not  immutable  in  His  acts.  For  instance, 
God  did  not  cre.nte  once,  God  did  create  once,  and 
now  He  has  ceased  from  creating.  Here  are  three 
distinct  and  different  acts  ;  yet  God  is  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever.  God  therefore  may 
be  immutable  in  the  principles  of  His  government, 
but  not  in  the  modes  in  which  He  carries  those 
principles  in  development. 

But,  you  say,  "  We  see  that  God  governs  the  world 
by  second  causes.  If  there  be  a  frost,  fruits  will 
be  nipped  ;  if  there  be  no  rain,  the  earth  will  be 
parched  ;  and  we  shall  find  this  law  always  and 
everywhere."  We  see  a  little  into  God's  great  plans, 
and  then  we  pronounce  upon  them  ;  just  as  some 
geologists  see  a  few  feet  down  through  the  rind  of 
the  earth,  and  then  pronounce  upon  its  inner  con- 
tents. It  may  be  and  is  true,  that  God  does 
commonly  work  the  world  by  second  causes  ;  only 
these  second  causes  that  we  see  are  the  results  of 
oui  discovery  ;  and  you  know  a  discovery  made  by 
man  can  be  corrected  and  improved  ;  the  fact  tl\at 
God  hears  prayer  is  not  our  discovery,  but  His 
revelation  of  His  own  will,  which  we  know  abso- 
lutely to  be  true.  But  grant  that  "God  works  by 
second  causes,  therefore,"  we  reply,  "it  is  not 
needless  to  imploie  Him,  or  necessary  to  suppose 
He  will  alter  these  and  disturb  nature  to  suit  us." 
Suppose  a  chain  stretching  from  the  throne  down 
to  the  very  footstool.  .Of  course  each  link  is 
dependent  on  the  previous  link,  or  each  third  cause 
upon  the  second,  and  each  second  upon  the  first, 
and  all  upon  the  staple  that  fixes  it  to  the  throne 
of  God.  Very  well,  you  answer,  how  can  He  do 
anything  that  you  ask  without  dislocating  the  chain  ; 
removing  one  link,  and  substituting  another  at  our 
prayer;  which  would  be  disorganisation  and  con- 
fusion. The  solution  is  plain.  May  not  the  power 
of  God  be  transmitted  down  that  chain  as  the 
electric  fluid  is  transmitted  along  the  wire  ;  not 
injuring  the  medium  by  which  it  travels,  and  yet 
achieving  stupendous  results  at  the  end  at  which  it 
arrives?  May  not  God,  therefore,  without  dis- 
locating a  single  link,  without  ceasing  to  act  by 
second  cause,  send  an  influence  through  the  whole 
series  of  causes  that  will  be  an  answer  to  your 
prayer,  and  yet  in  full  conformity  with  all  the  fixed 
arrangements  of  His  own  mighty  and  glorious  uni- 
verse f  And  if  God  has  decree^ — as  we  admit  He 
has — may  not  His  deciee  include  in  its  execution 
our  desire?  And  may  it  not  be  that  the  necessity 
of  our  desire  is  just  as  lixed  as  the  fact  of  God's 
everlasting,  unchangeable  decree  ? 

But  the  fact  is,  the  man  that  wants  does  not 
discuss  metaphysics  ;  he  prays.  There  is  something 
in  our  hearts  that  tell  us,  like  an  echo  of  what  God 
has  uttered  in  heaven,  "Seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ; 
knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  ;  ask,  and  ye  shall 
obtain."  The  moment  that  a  person  begins  to 
discuss  the  possiiiilities  of  prayer,  the  philosophy  of 
prayer,  the   metaphysica  of  prayer,  that  moment. 


depend  upon  it,  he  does  not  feel  his  deep  wants  ai 
he  should,  nor  know  what  are  the  blessings  that 
can  supply  them.  You  never  find  a  himgry  child 
begin  first  to  discuss  metaphysical  difficulties  with 
his  mother  when  he  wants  bread  ;  and  you  will  not 
find  a  man,  who  really  and  in  his  inmost  soul  feels 
that  he  needs  saving  blessings,  pause  or  arrest  his 
petitions  for  a  si.ngle  moment  in  discussing  how  it 
is  possible  that  God  can  answer  prayer  ;  or  how, 
without  disturbing  II is  fixed  arrangements,  He  can 
bow  His  ear  and  listen  to  ray  petition.  The  text 
that  upsets  ail  objections  is  that  God  will  have  man 
everywhere  to  pray.  Make  the  experiment  ;  "  seek, 
and  you  shall  find — pray  without  ceasing — knock, 
and  it  shall  be  opened — ask,  and  you  shall  obtain." 

— Cumming. 


(3752-)  Some  persons,  setting  themselves  to 
speculate  upon  the  subject,  and  not  submitting 
their  speculations  to  the  guidance  of  the  Bible,  find 
themselves  unable  to  see  how  prayer  can  be  of  any 
use.  "It  cannot  change  the  purpose  of  God," 
they  say.  "  It  cannot  alter  that  course  of  events 
which  He  has  ajipointed."  "  He  is  too  great  to  be 
moved, — too  high  to  be  reached, — too  firm  to  be 
influenced  by  our  poor  petitions."  And  so  they 
"restrain  prayer"  in  themselves,  and  chill  into 
prayerlessncss  ail  who  give  up  their  minds  to  the 
guidance  of  iheir  philosophy. 

It  is  perhaps  a  sufficient  answer  to  such  specula- 
tions, to  ask  their  autliors  whether  it  is  any  more 
reasonable  for  us  to  expect  that,  on  condition  of 
our  digging  and  mellowing  the  ground  and  putting 
seeds  into  it,  the  Creator  will  open  those  little 
seeds,  and  fetch  an  abundant  harvest  out  of  them  ; 
or  that  on  condition  of  our  putting  certain  kinds  of 
food  into  our  mouths.  He  will  put  forth  His  energy 
to  change  it  into  blood,  and  muscle,  and  bones,  for 
the  upbuilding  of  these  bodies  ;  or  that  on  condi- 
tion of  our  stretcliing  a  wire  across  the  continent, 
and  adjusting  certain  metals  and  fluids,  according 
to  an  arrangement  which  He  has  appointed,  we 
may  write  our  message,  and  He  will,  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye,  by  an  instantaneous,  imperceptible 
thrill  along  that  wire,  cause  the  message  to  be 
faithially  written  .it  the  other  end  of  it,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  continent  ; — wlieiher  it  is  any  more 
reasonalile  to  believe  that  God  will  ]nit  foith  His 
almighty  power  for  us,  to  do  such  things,  on  such 
conditions,  than  that  He  will  put  forth  the  same 
power  to  help  us  and  to  bless  us,  on  condition  0/ 
our  asking  Him  to  do  so. 

I  say,  mis  might  be  a  suflicient  answer  to  such 
speculations.  Certainly  it  would  show  ih.it  there 
really  is  no  less  ditticulty  in  harmonising  the  un- 
changeableness  of  God's  purposes  with  the  utility 
of  man  s  labour,  than  with  the  efficacy  of  man's 
prayers. 

It  will  generally  be  found  that  there  is  in  the 
same  minds  really  as  much  scepticism  in  the  one 
respect  as  in  the  other.  'I  hose  who  think  it  absurd 
to  pray  to  God  do  not  really  see  His  hand  and  His 
working  in  those  wonuers  by  which  He  seeks  to 
make  llimseli  known.  They  do  not  recognise  the 
living  God — but  only  a  blind  mechanical  thing 
which  they  call  nature — in  those  wonderiul  and 
mysterious  processes  to  which  I  alluded.  It  is  not 
far  from  Ueism  to  Atheism.  It  is  not  much  better 
to  believe  in  a  God  who  will  not  hear  our  jnayers, 
than  not  tu  believe  in  any  God  at  all.     Not  much 


PR  A  YER. 


(    636    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


better  in  its  effect   upon  ua  and   not   much   more 

philosophical.  — Nelson. 

(3753.)  We  are  told  that  prayer  is  unphilosophical, 
inasmuch  as  ihe  success  of  prayer  would  involve  a 
change  of  operation  in  llini  who  is  immutable. 
"  lias  not  (Jod  arranged  all  events  trom  eternity? 
Is  not  everytliing  foreknown,  predetermined  by 
Him,  and  can  our  feeble  cries  change  His  all-wise 
deciees?"  But  the  same  objection  applies  to  our 
exertions  as  much  as  to  your  prayers,  il  it  is  absurd 
to  suppose  we  can  gain  anytiiing  by  asking  the  help 
of  God,  it  is  surely  no  less  absurd  to  expect  ad- 
vantage from  efi'orts  of  our  own.  Those  who  urge 
this  plea  contradict  it  in  daily  life.  Let  them  act 
upon  it  and  they  will  be  at  least  consistent  in  their 
folly.  Are  you  in  Imsiness?  Be  not  diligent — 
take  no  precautions — in  special  circumstances  make 
no  special  efforts  to  secure  success.  God  foreknows 
and  has  foreordained  to  the  uttermost  fanhing 
how  much  you  will  gain  or  lose.  Be  not  so  pre- 
sumptuous as  to  suppose  that  your  eflbrts  can 
disarrange  His  purposes.  If  you  break  a  limb,  ask 
no  surgeon  to  set  it.  If  you  are  in  pain,  adopt  no 
methods  to  mitigate  it.  if  a  dangerous  malady 
seize  you,  call  in  no  physician  to  cure  it.  How 
can  you  presume  to  suppose  you  can  alter  the 
divine  plan — or  the  irreversible  decrees  of  necessity 
and  fate?  Fools  and  blind  !  If  you  work  to  bring 
about  what  you  deem  desirable,  in  spite  of  eternal 
]nirposes  and  irrevocable  destiny,  why  not  pray  i 
If  your  own  exertions  may  possibly  benefit  you, 
why  may  not  CJod's  exertions  in  answer  to  your 
prayer,  when  He  Himself  has  commanded  us  to 
pray,  and  commanded  it  as  a  means  of  securing 
assistance  from  Him?  We  pretend  not  to  explain 
the  mystery  of  the  divine  purposes  in  connection 
with  the  efficacy  of  prayer.  Neither  can  our 
opponents  exjilain  the  equal  mystery  of  those  pur- 
poses in  connection  with  the  value  of  their  own 
exertions.     Yet,   with  the  problem  unsolved,  they 

Eersist  in  working.  So  we  persist  in  praying  ;  but 
ow  will  their  eflorts  for  their  own  well-being  rise 
up  at  the  last  day  to  condemn  those  who  neglected 
prayer  under  a  pretext  which  their  exery  action  in 
daily  life  disowned  !  — Neiiivian  hall. 

4.  In  view  of  the  experience  and  testimony  of 
God's  people,  speculative  objections  agaiust  prayer 
are  futile  and  absurd. 

(3754.)  You  believe  in  the  existence  of  lately 
discovered  planets,  and  in  other  astronomical  facts 
which  you  yourself  have  never  observed,  and  you 
would  think  it  absurd  scepticism  in  any  man  to 
doubt  them.  Why?  Because  all  \\\\o  ha\e  used 
the  proper  glasses,  and  carefully  made  the  proper 
observations,  concur  in  affirming  the  truth.  Now 
you  will  find  no  sincere  Christian  of  long  standing 
and  oljservation  but  will  tell  you  he  has  had  many 
and  decisive  proofs  in  their  number  and  coincidence 
that  his  prayer  was  heard,  and  practically  ansvxered 
in  the  occurrences  of  his  life.  However  widi^ly 
devout  men  disagree  in  other  points,  in  this  they 
are  well  agreed  ;  and  very  many  have  declared  that 
things  have  neve:  gone  well  with  them  when  their 
morning  prayers  have  been  distracted,  cold,  and 
languid.  To  suppose  it  is  with  all  these  witnesses 
the  dream  of  superstition,  is  not  less  irrational  than 
it  would  be  to  suppose  that  all  the  observers  of  the 
Georgium  Sidus,  of  Pallas,  and  Ceres,  have  been 
leceiscd  by  meteors,  or  some  defect  in  Uieir  glasses. 


To  say  that  the  majority  of  persons  have  no  such 
evidence,  who  do  not  pray  aright,  and  live  rignt, 
in  order  to  secure  answers  to  their  prayers,  would 
be  as  idle  an  objection  as  that  the  planets  just 
mentioned  h.'vve  not  been  seen  by  those  who  never 
looked  for  them  in  a  proper  direction,  and  by  the 
aid  of  a  proper  telescope. 

— Hannah  Morels  Life. 

(3755.)  We  cannot  tell  why  it  should  be  so,  or 
how  il  is  that  our  prayers  are  followed  by  divine 
performances.  But  we  need  not  the  less,  on  that 
account,  joyfully  accept  the  fact,  as  revealed  to  ua 
by  God.  Some,  indeed,  have  tried  to  discourage 
from  all  prayer  on  this  ground.  They  have  said, 
What  possible  effect  can  our  prayers  have  on  the 
Omnipotent  ?  and  hence  they  have  concluded  that 
it  is  vain  for  us  to  pray.  Now,  the  meaning  of  this 
objection  is  simply  that  they  cannot  tell  how  our 
prayers  can  affect  the  divine  actings  ;  in  other 
wortls,  that  they  cannot  trace  the  connection  be- 
tween our  act  in  prayer  and  God's  act  in  answering 
it.  This  is  all  that  the  objection  to  prayer  implied 
in  such  a  question  can  mean.  Well,  we  would 
reply.  What  of  that  ?  This  is  not  peculiar  to  prayer  ; 
it  is  true  of  everything  that  is  the  result  ot  any 
other  thing.  People  are  apt  to  imagine  that  what 
they  are  familiar  u  ith  as  a  phenomenon  they  under- 
stand as  a  speculation.  But  no  man  understands 
causa  1 1071.  In  the  commonest  instances  of  cause 
and  effect  there  is  a  mystery  which  none  can  pene- 
trate ;  for  no  man  can  tell  how  it  is  that  the  cause 
produces  the  ertect.  If  a  match  be  applied  to  a 
quantity  of  gunpowder,  for  instance,  there  is  an 
explosion,  and  we  say  the  explosion  has  been  caused 
by  the  application  of  the  match.  True  ;  the  one 
followed  instantly  on  the  other  ;  but  why  it  did  so, 
or  what  is  the  connection  jjetween  the  two,  we 
cannot  tell.  All  we  know  in  any  such  case  is,  that 
the  fact  which  we  call  the  eficct  follows  invariably 
the  fact  which  we  call  the  cause.  Now,  we  know 
as  much  as  this  in  regard  to  the  connection  between 
prayer  and  its  effect.  We  know,  from  God's  Word, 
that  "the  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous 
man  avaiieth  much."  We  know  by  experience  that 
the  utterance  of  prayer  is  followed  by  a  ilivinely- 
produced  result ;  and  knowing  this,  we  know  as 
much  about  the  connection  between  prayer  and  its 
answer,  as  we  know  of  the  connection  between  any 
cause  and  its  effect.  — ly.  L.  Alexander, 

VIII.    ITS  RANGE. 

1.  Notbing  is  too  little  to  be  made  a  subject  of 
prayer. 

(3756.)  Many  of  our  troubles,  indeed,  are  in  His 
sight  110  more  than  the  breaking  of  a  toy  would  be 
to  a  child  ;  yet  as  the  loving  father,  while  knowing 
how  small  the  thing  is  that  has  given  his  child  its 
pain,  does  not  therefore  turn  the  chiki  away, — does 
not  say,  "  Silly  child,  it  is  but  a  toy,"  but  soothes 
the  distress  o(  his  little  one,  tenderly  wiping  its 
tears,  and  removing  the  sorrow  by  more  than  re- 
pairing the  loss, — so  and  much  more  does  God. 
The  greatest  loss  of  earthly  things  is  in  His  eyes 
but  as  the  breaking  of  a  toy;  yet  docs  He  no  more 
stand  aloof  from  His  children's  sorrow  because  He 
is  God,  than  does  the  father  because  he  is  a  grown 
man.  He  does  not  sit  above  the  clouds,  as  the 
heathen  thought  that  their  gods  sat,  wrapped  in 
the  selfishness  of  His  superiority,  and  despismg  the 
littleness  of  the  creatures  that  crawl  below.      "He 


PRA  YE  It. 


(    (>37     ) 


rRA  ]  ER. 


knoweth  our  frame,"  for  He  made  it.  "  He  under- 
standeth  our  thoughts,"  for  the  mind,  from  whence 
they  rise,  is  His  workmansliip.  And  there  is  nothing 
which  is  a  source  of  pain  or  uneasiness,  of  doubt 
or  difficulty,  of  grief  or  anguish  to  His  children, 
which  He  is  not  only  willing  to  hear  of  but  desirous 
that  they  should  tell  Him.  — Champiteys. 

2.  We  may  pray  for  secular  blessings. 

(3757.)  Question.  Is  it  proper  to  go  to  God  with 
secular  troubles,  and  make  them  subject-matter  of 
prayer  ?  Would  you,  for  instance,  encourage  men 
who  are  in  debt  to  pray  that  (jod  would  help  them 
to  means  with  which  to  discharge  their  indebted- 
ness? 

I  would.  Any  trouble  that  a  man  would  go  to 
his  earthly  father  about,  he  may  go  to  his  God 
about.  People  say,  "  Do  you  believe  that,  contrary 
to  all  the  great  laws  of  nature  and  political 
economy,  God  will  provide  a  sum  of  money  for  a 
man  in  answer  to  his  prayer?  Do  you  believe  that 
God  contravenes  natural  laws  to  assist  a  man  in 
paying  his  debts?"  I  do  not.  But  when  a  man 
has  used  his  means  to  the  uttermost,  and  trusts  in 
God,  then  God  uses  His  means  to  control  natural 
laws  for  tliat  man's  benefit.  I  know  that,  if  I 
succeed,  I  must  succeed,  not  by  having  my  father's 
name,  but  by  putting  forth  my  own  e.xertions.  I 
know  that  1  must  make  my  own  way  in  life,  and  I 
undertake  to  do  it.  But  if  1  come  to  a  point  where 
I  am  shut  up,  held  back,  so  that  I  cannot  go  for- 
waid,  and  I  do  not  know  what  to  do,  I  may  go  to 
my  father  for  help.  It  is  not  for  the  sake  ol  throw- 
ing off  burdens,  it  is  not  with  the  expectation  that 
he  will  contravene  natural  laws,  that  I  go  to  him. 
I  go  to  him  because  I  have  used  up  my  stock  of 
knowledge  of  natural  laws ;  and  I  say  to  him, 
"You  are  older  and  larger  than  I  am  ;  cannot  you 
use  your  knowledge  of  those  laws  so  as  to  help 
me?"  And  he  says,  "Yes,  I  can."  And  he  does. 
And  nobody  thinks  there  is  anything  strange  in  it. 
Everybody  understands  that  a  father  can  use  his 
knowledge  of  natural  laws  for  his  child  without 
violating  those  laws.  But  when  you  speak  of  Gods 
helping  men  in  their  secular  affairs,  people  are 
aghast,  and  say,  "Do  you  suppose  God  is  going  to 
stop  the  laws  of  nature  for  the  sake  of  enabling 
men  to  keep  their  bank  account  running  ? "  1 
understand  that  God  helps  men,  not  by  stopping 
natural  laws,  but  by  using  them  better  for  us  than 
we  can  use  them  for  ourselves.  And  if  there  is 
anything  justified,  it  is  prayer  for  help  in  secular 
matters  by  those  that  love  God.  And  the  oftener 
you  go  to  God  for  help,  the  more  welcome  you  are. 
When  a  man  comes  to  you  for  counsel  concerning 
tilings  that  are  important  as  affecting  his  weliare, 
it  not  only  does  not  impoverish  you  to  give  him  the 
benefit  of  your  knowledge  and  wisdom,  but  you 
are  gratified  at  his  consulting  you,  and  you  take 
pleasure  in  lending  yourself  to  him  to  that  extent. 
I  cannot  conceive  of  a  man  who,  having  a  store  of 
discreet  knowledge,  should  be  unwilling  to  use  it 
for  the  succour  of  his  fellow-men.  If  ducats  were 
as  plenty  with  me  as  thoughts,  I  should  be  most 
happy  to  lend  to  everybotly  I 

Mow,  when  we  go  to  God,  we  ask  Him  to  do 
things  that  please  Him.  It  is  more  blessed  for 
Him  to  give  to  you  and  to  help  you  than  not  to  do 
it.  And  when  a  man  is  in  trouble,  and  goes  to 
God,  and  says,  "  I  have  done  all  I  can.  I  do  not 
know  what  to  do  mnre.     \  am  willing  to  suffer  or 


to  be  relieved.  Thy  will  be  done," — I  believe  that 
then  God  hears  and  answers  prayer,  even  though 
the  trouble  be  of  a  secular  nature.  And  I  do  not 
believe  that  in  doing  it  He  violates  natural  laws. 
I  believe,  on  the  contrary,  that  He  controls  natural 
laws,  and  makes  them  perform  errands  of  mercy. 
I  should  feel  almost  as  though  I  were  an  orphan  if 
that  doctrine  were  taken  out  of  the  world. 

I  recollect  hearing  my  father  say  that  once,  when 
he  came  home  from  a  journey  on  a  Saturday  night 
in  the  dead  of  winter,  mother  met  him  at  the  door, 
and  said,  "We  have  just  enough  fuel  for  this  even- 
ing, but  none  for  to-morrow."  Anybody  that  ever 
lived  on  Litchfield  Hill  in  winter  knows  that  & 
Sunday  there  and  then  would  not  suggest  summer. 
Father  used  to  be  run  very  close  for  money  in  those 
days,  and  in  this  instance  he  had  none,  and  did  not 
know  where  to  get  any.  And,  in  telling  of  it,  he 
said,  "  I  felt  like  a  child,  and  I  inwardly  prayed 
God  to  help  me."  And  he  said  he  had  hardly 
finished  praying  before  an  old  farmer,  who  had 
never  been  particularly  friendly,  and  who  did  not 
come  to  church  very  often,  drove  up  to  the  door 
with  a  load  of  wood,  which  he  said  he  "took  it 
into  his  head  he  would  like  to  give  to  the  parson." 

Do  you  ask  me  if  that  was  an  answer  to  prayer? 
Well,  although  I  would  not  attempt  a  philosophical 
explanation  of  it,  it  is  so  pleasant  to  think  it  was 
an  answer  to  prayer,  and  the  circumstances  point 
so  strongly  in  that  direction,  that  I  prefer  to  think 
it  was.  I  do  not  believe  it  will  do  anybody  any 
hurt  to  believe  that  God  loves  us,  that  His  ear  is 
ever  open  to  our  cry,  and  that,  while  we  use  all 
lawful  and  known  means  in  our  own  behalf,  He 
stands  ready  to  succour  us  in  the  day  of  trouble.  I 
would  not  for  anything  have  my  mouth  stopped  so 
that  I  could  not  go  to  Him  in  my  extremity,  and 
say,  "  I  am  poor  and  wretched  ;  oh,  help,  help  !  " 

— BeccJier. 

3.  Yet  there  are  limitations  to  Its  range,  sucli 
as: — 

(l.)    The  real  good  of  the  suppliant. 

(3758.)  Immense  as  is  the  power  of  prayer,  it  is  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  good  men  will  get  anything 
they  choose  to  ask  for.  On  the  men  of  the  world 
God  may  bestow  those  gratifications  of  their  lusts 
lor  which  they  clamour  to  Him,  as  He  showered 
quails  on  the  gluttonous  Israelites  whom  even 
"angels'"  food  did  not  satisfy,  and  in  the  same 
day  smote  them  with  a  great  plague  (Numb,  xi., 
Ps.  cvi.  15)  ;  but  no  fervour  or  persistency  in 
supplication  will  ever  induce  Him  to  give  to  His 
people  what  would  be  to  their  injury.  Our  Loid 
marks  it  as  distinctive  of  a  father,  that,  notwith- 
standing the  evil  that  cleaves  to  our  nature,  lie  will 
not  give  his  children  what  would  be  hurtful  to 
them.  "What  man  is  there  of  you,"  lie  says, 
"whom  if  his  son  ask  bread,  will  he  give  him  a 
stone?  or  if  he  ask  a  fish,  will  be  give  him  a  ser- 
pent?" Mark  the  argument  that  our  Lorri  foumls 
upon  this  fact.  "  If  ye  then,  being  evil,  know  how 
to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children,  how  much 
more  shall  your  Father  who  is  in  heaven  give  good 
things" — and  only  good  things — "to  them  that 
ask  Him  ! " 

The  promise  is  ;  "They  that  seek  the  Lord  shall 
not  want  any  good  thing  :  " — not  what  they  may 
think  good,  but  what  is  good  ;  and  not  everything 
that  is  good  in  itseli,  but  what  is  good  for  them. 
Things  that   are   good    in    themselves   may  be   to 


PRA  YER. 


(    638    ) 


PRA  YER. 


certain  individuals  bad  and  hurtful  things.  The 
pbysician  says  to  one  of  his  patients:  "Be  very 
careful  not  to  touch  animal  food."  "  Why,  doctor," 
Ihe  patient  answers,  "I  did  not  know  you  were  a 
vegetaiian."  "  Nor  am  1,"  is  the  doctor's  reply; 
"animal  food  is  in  itself  a  good  thing,  but  to  you, 
in  your  present  condition,  it  is  poison."  In  effect, 
the  Heavenly  Physician  often  says  the  same  thing. 
To  the  suppliants  at  His  throne  He  says,  "The 
things  you  ask  are  in  themselves  good  and  desir- 
able, but  to  you  they  would  be  hurtful,  and  there- 
fore you  shall  not  have  them. " 

— K.  A.  Bertram. 

(2.)   GotTs  appointments  respecting  the  future  life. 

(3759.)  Look  but  upon  one  that  plays  a  game  at 
bowls,  how,  no  sooner  than  he  hath  delivered  his 
bowl,  what  a  screwing  of  his  body  this  way  and 
that  way,  what  calling  doth  he  make  after  it  that  it 
may  be  neither  short  nor  over,  nor  wide  on  either 
•side  ;  but  all  in  vain  :  the  bowl  keepeth  on  its 
•course  and  reacheth  to  the  place,  not  where  the 
mind  but  the  strength  of  the  bowler  sent  it.  Thus 
it  is  with  those  that  pray  for  the  dead  :  they  pray 
.and  call  unto  God,  and  sing  requiems  and  dirges 
for  the  souls  of  men  departed,  that  they  may  be 
sent  into  purgatory,  not  hell — a  course  alto^etlier 
unwarrantable,  unavailable  ;  for,  as  the  body  is  laid 
down  in  the  dust,  so  the  soul  is  gone  to  God  that 
gave  it,  there  to  receive  according  to  the  deeds 
done  here  in  the  flesh,  whether  it  be  to  life  or  death 
eternal.  — Wincop,  1627. 

4.  These  limitations  are  wisely  and  mercifully 

ordaiued. 

(3760.)  Had  God  made  prayer  absolute  in  power. 
He  would  practically  have  resigned  the  government 
of  the  universe  into  the  hands  of  men,  and  sank 
into  the  position  of  a  mere  servant  of  His  crea- 
tures ;  and  those  who  remember  how  wicked  most 
men  are,  and  how  unwise  often  are  the  best 
men,  will  tremble  at  the  very  thought  of  the 
consequences  of  such  a  revolution.  To  have  made 
prayer  absolute  would  have  involved  most  con- 
tradictory procedures.  What  strange  contests  of 
supplication  would  have  occurred  1  The  heir,  for 
example,  praying  that  the  man  from  whom  he  has 
large  expectations  may  be  speedily  removed  to  a 
better  world,  and  the  man  himself  praying  that  he 
may  be  permitted  to  continue  in  the  world  many 
years  !  And  the  prayers  of  each  alike  absolute  in 
power !  On  such  an  arrangement  as  this,  the 
world  could  not  have  gone  on  for  a  single  day. 
Nay,  it  would  have  been  a  fearful  curse  had  every 
prudent  and  right  prayer  been  made  all  powerful.  All 
men  would  then  have  been  in  danger  of  becoming 
atheists.  The  uniformity  of  the  power  of  prayer 
would  have  operated  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
regularity  of  the  processes  of  nature  does  now,  but 
far  more  miglitily.  Now,  because  the  forces  of 
nature  operate  with  undeviating  regularity,  many 
students  of  science  maintain  that  the  great  machine 
of  the  universe  moves  on  by  its  own  momentum, 
and  laugh  at  us  who  worship  God  as  the  great 
First  Cause  and  Primal  Force  ;  and  then,  had  every 
wise  word  of  prayer  been  followed  by  blessing  as 
surely  and  manifestly  as  every  fall  of  the  hammer 
of  a  well-loaded  revolver  is  followed  by  an  ex- 
j.'losion,  men  would  have  lost  all  sense  of  their 
dependence  on  a  Divine  Being.  Prayers,  in  fact, 
would  cease  to  be  offered  ;  they  would  be  incaiita- 


tions.  For  these  reasons,  in  the  greatness  of  HI 3 
mercy,  God  has  reserved  to  Himself  the  right  ol 
answering  as  well  as  of  hearmg  prayer,  and  of  dis- 
pensing the  blessings  of  Providence,  even  as  He 
does  the  "gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  "according  to 
His  own  will."  — R.  A.  Bertram. 

6.  These  limitations  Bbould  be  reTerently  re> 
spected  by  us. 

(3761.)  When,  by  one  way  or  another,  from  the 
Bible  or  from  the  world  around  us,  we  have  dis- 
covered God's  purpose  and  will,  then  we  do  not 
ask  Him  to  change  it,  but  to  help  us  to  bear  or  to 
fulfil  it.  "  If  we  ask  anything  according  to  His 
will  He  heareth  us."  No  one  thinks  of  praying 
that  the  sun  may  rise  in  the  west  instead  of  the  east. 
And  why  ?  Not  because  it  is  impossible  with  God, 
but  that  long  -  continued  experience  has  clearly 
revealed  His  will.  No  one  thinks  of  praying,  that 
one  who  has  just  breathed  his  last  may  wake  up  to 
life  once  more.  And  why?  Not  because  it  is  im- 
possible with  God,  but  that  He  has  willed  it  other- 
wise. And  so  no  one  thinks  it  right  to  pray  that 
those  who  have  advanced  to  extreme  old  age  should 
be  granted  a  new  lease  of  life,  and  blush  again  into 
youih,  and  the  blooms  of  early  promise.  When- 
ever we  clearly  and  decidedly  recognise  the  will  of 
God,  we  submit  to  it  as  inevitable  and  unalterable. 
—  W.  Page  Roberts. 

IX.  IS  A  DUTY  BINDING  ON  ALL  MEN. 
(3762.)  Though  an  unbeliever  sin  in  praying,  yet 

it  is  not  a  sin  for  him  to  pray.  There  is  sin  in  the 
manner  of  his  praying  ;  but  prayer,  as  to  the  act 
and  substance  of  it,  is  his  duty.  He  sins,  not  be- 
cause he  prays,  that  is  required  of  him,  but  because 
he  prays  amiss,  not  in  that  manner  that  is  required 
of  him.  There  are  abominations  in  the  prayers  of 
a  wicked  man,  but  for  him  to  pray  is  not  an  abo- 
mination, it  is  the  good  and  acceptable  will  of  God,  ^ 
that  which  He  commands.  He  commands  him  to 
pray,  and  he  sins  not  in  complying  with  the  com- 
mand, so  far  it  is  obedience  ;  but  he  prays  not  as 
he  ought  to  do,  there  is  his  sin.  Now  he  should 
leave  his  sin,  not  his  duty.  He  should  pray  better 
in  another  manner,  that  is  all  which  can  be  inferred, 
not  that  he  should  not  pray  at  all.  For  so  he 
leaves  not  his  sin,  but  his  duty.  A  boy  is  learning 
to  write  ;  he  scribbles  at  first  untoward ly,  makes, 
it  may  be,  more  blots  than  letters.  It  is  his  fault 
that  he  blots,  not  that  he  writes,  that  is  his  duty  ; 
in  this  case  you  would  have  him  leave  blotting,  not 
leave  writing.  So  here,  the  act  of  prayer  is  a  duty, 
but  the  manner  of  performing  this  act,  therein  is 
the  fault  ;  this  should  be  corrected,  but  the  act 
should  not  be  omitted.      — Clarkson,  1622-1687. 

X.  IS  A  PRIVILEGE. 

(3763.)  There  is  great  evil  in  regarding  prayer 
as  mere  duty.  The  moment  we  so  regard  it,  as  a 
duty  we  begin  to  perlorm  it.  Very  justly,  and  not 
oftener  than  true,  is  it  said — "Service  was  per- 
formed." Yes,  it  was  performed  ;  it  was  a  per- 
formance from  beginning  to  end  ;  and  so  the  con 
sequence  of  regarding  prayer  as  a  duty  is,  that  we 
go  forth  to  perform  our  duty,  and  having  expressed 
our  wants  in  prayer,  we  conclude  our  duty  has  been 
done.  But  this  is  a  great  mistake  ;  this  is  accept- 
ing the  means  as  the  end.  You  go  to  the  throne 
of  grace — to  a  fountain  deeper  than  Jacob's  well; 


PR  A  YER. 


(    639    ) 


PRA  YER. 


you  draw  water — living  water,  but,  instead  of 
drinking  the  water  as  you  should,  you  are  satisfied 
with  having  raised  the  bucket  to  the  ground,  and 
you  retire,  having  done  your  duty.  The  end  of 
drawing  living  water  is  to  drink  it ;  the  meaning  of 
praying  is  to  reach  something  beyond  it.  Prayer 
is  not  a  religious  duty,  but  the  means  of  attaining 
religious  blessings.  By  its  very  nature  it  is  the 
instrument  of  religious  progress,  comfort,  and 
peace.  — Cumming. 

(3764.)  Our  hearts  should  open  themselves  in 
prayer  to  God  for  their  many  wants,  as  the  infant 
openeth  its  hungry  mouth,  and  lifteth  up  the  cry 
into  the  ear  of  its  mother ;  and  as  that  infant, 
being  filled  and  satisfied,  smiles  in  the  face  of  its 
mother,  and  spreads  its  little  hands  to  embrace  her 
in  token  of  the  gladness  of  its  heart,  so  ought  our 
spirits,  being  filled  with  the  answers  of  their  prayers, 
to  feel  an  inward  joy  and  thankfulness  to  the  Father 
of  spirits,  and  call  upon  the  lips  and  hands,  and 
every  other  obedient  member,  to  express  with 
songs  and  attitudes  of  praise  the  emotions  with 
wliich  they  overflow.  — Irving,  1792- 1834. 

XI.    KINDS  OF  PRA  VEX. 

1.  Ejaculatory  prayer. 

(l.)  Its  power. 

(3765.)  Ejaculatory  prayer  is  prayer  darted  up 
from  the  heart  to  God,  not  at  staled  intervals,  but 
in  the  course  of  our  daily  occupations  and  amuse- 
ments. The  word  "ejaculatory"  is  derived  from 
the  Latin  word  for  a  dart  or  arrow,  and  there  is  an 
idea  in  it  which  one  would  be  loath  indeed  to 
forfeit. 

Imagine  an  English  archer,  strolling  through  a 
forest  in  the  old  times  of  Crecy  and  Agincourt, 
when  the  yeomen  of  this  island  were  trained  to 
deliver  their  arrows  with  the  same  unfailing  pre- 
cision as  "a  left-handed  Gibeonite"  discharging  a 
stone  bullet  from  his  sling.  A  bird  rises  in  the 
brushwood  under  his  feet,  a  bird  of  gorgeous  plum- 
age or  savoury  flesh.  He  takes  an  arrow  from  his 
quiver,  draws  his  bow  to  its  full  stretch,  and  sends 
the  shaft  after  the  bird  with  the  speed  of  lightning. 
Scarcely  an  instant  elapses  before  his  prey  is  at  his 
feet.  It  has  been  struck  with  unerring  aim  in  the 
critical  part  and  drops  on  the  instant. 

Very  similar  in  the  spiritual  world  is  the  force  of 
what  is  called  ejaculatory  prayer.  The  Christian 
catches  suddenly  a  glimpse  of  some  blessing, 
deliverance,  relief,  a  longing  after  which  is  induced 
by  the  circumstances  into  which  he  is  thrown. 
Presently  it  shall  be  his.  As  the  archer  first 
draws  the  bow  in  towards  himself,  so  the  Chiistian 
retires,  by  a  momentary  act  of  recollection,  into 
his  own  mind,  and  there  realises  the  presence  of 
God.  Then  he  launches  one  short,  fervent  petition 
into  the  ear  of  that  Awful  Presence,  throw  ing  his 
whole  soul  into  the  request.  And,  lo  !  it  is  done  ! 
The  blessing  descends,  prosecuted,  overtaken, 
pierced,  fetched  down  from  the  vault  of  heaven  by 
tiie  winged  arrow  of  prayer.  — Goulburn. 

(2.)  Is  even  more  essential  than  stated  prayer. 

(3766.)  A  Christian  that  is  frequent  in  ejaculatory 
prayer,  when  he  goes  to  pray  more  solemnly,  does 
not  gtf  from  the  world  to  God,  but  from  God  to 
God.     What  you  fill  the  vessel  with,  that  you  must 


expect  to  draw  from  it ;  if  you  put  m  water,  you 
cannot  bring  out  wine.  What  dost  thou  fill  thy 
heart  with  all  day  ?  Is  it  the  earth  ?  Then  how 
canst  thou  expect  to  find  heaven  there  at  night  ? 

If  you  would  have  fire  for  your  evening  sacrifice, 
do  not  expect  a  new  flame  to  be  dropped  from 
heaven,  but  keep  what  is  already  on  thy  altar  from 
going  out,  which  thou  canst  not  better  do  than  by 
feeding  it.with  the  fuel  of  ejaculatory  prayer  all  th» 
day.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3767.)  Service  and  prayer  are  the  web  and  woof 
of  the  Christian  life,  of  which  every  part  of  it  is 
composed.  Both  are  in  the  groundwork  of  the 
stuff.  Not  even  in  point  of  time  must  they  be  too 
rigidly  sundered  from  one  another.  Prayer  at 
stated  seasons  is  good  and  necessary  ;  but  a  man 
aiming  at  sanctity  in  ever  so  low  a  degree,  will  find 
it  impossible  to  confine  his  prayers  to  stated  sea- 
sons. He  will  soon  discover  that  prayer  is  literally, 
and  not  merely  in  a  figure,  "the  Christian's  breath 
of  life  ; "  and  that  to  attempt  to  carry  on  the  spiri- 
tual life  without  more  prayer  than  the  recital  cyf  a 
form  on  rising,  and  retiring  to  rest,  is  about  the 
same  absurdity  as  it  would  be  for  a  man  to  open 
his  casement  morning  and  evening,  and  inhale  the 
fresh  air  lor  a  few  minutes,  and  then  say  to  himself 
on  closing  it,  that  that  amount  of  breathing  must 
suffice  him  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  The  analogy 
suggested  by  this  image  is,  I  believe,  a  perfectly 
true  one,  and  will  hold  good  if  examined.  The  air 
from  the  casement  is  very  delicious,  very  healthful, 
very  refreshing,  very  invigorating  ;  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  stand  at  the  casement  and  inhale  it  ;  but 
there  must  be  air  in  the  shop,  in  the  factory,  in  the 
office,  as  well  as  at  the  casement,  if  the  man,  as 
he  works,  is  to  survive.  Under  this  view  of  it, 
ejaculatory  prayer  is  seen  to  be  even  a  more 
essential  thing  than  stated  prayer.  Both  are  neces- 
sary to  the  well-being  ol  Christian  life  ;  but  the 
momentary  lifting  the  heart  to  God, — the  momen- 
tary realisation  of  His  presence  amidst  business  or 
under  temptation, — is  necessary  to  its  very  being. 
The  life  is  no  more  when  the  work  is  suspended. 
For  which  reason  probably  it  is  that  the  great 
apostolic  prayer  -  precept  is  given  with  a  breadth 
which  excludes  all  in  limitations  of  time  and  place, — 
"Pray  without  ceasing."  — Goulburn. 

(3768.)  The  mind  wants  steadying  and  setting 
right  many  times  a  day.  It  resembles  a  compass 
placed  on  a  rickety  table  ;  the  least  stir  of  the  table 
makes  the  needle  swing  round  and  point  untrue. 
Let  it  settle,  then,  till  it  points  aright.  Be  perfectly 
silent  for  a  few  moments,  thinking  of  Jesus  ;  there 
is  an  almost  divine  force  in  silence.  Drop  the 
thing  that  worries,  that  excites,  that  interests,  that 
thwarts  you  ;  let  it  fall,  like  a  sediment,  to  the 
bottom,  until  the  soul  is  no  longer  turbid  ;  and  say 
secretly,  "  Grant,  I  beseech  Thee,  merciful  Lord, 
to  thy  faithful  servant  pardon  and  peace  ;  that  I 
may  be  cleansed  from  all  my  sins,  and  serve  Thee 
with  a  quiet  mind."  Yes  !  with  a  quiet  mind.  We 
cannot  serve  Him  with  a  turbid  one  ;  it  is  a  mere 
impossibility.  Thus  composing  ourselves  from  time 
to  time,  thus  praying  and  setting  the  mind's  needle 
true,  we  shall  little  by  little  approximate  towar%la 
that  devout  frame,  which  binds  the  soul  to  its  true 
centre,  even  while  it  travels  through  worldly  busi* 
ness,  worldly  excitements,  worldly  cares. 

— Goulburn. 


PRA  YER, 


(    640    ) 


PRA  VER. 


(3.)  //  always  practicable. 

(3769.)  Ejaculations  take  not'up  any  room  in  tlie 

ioul.  They  give  liberty  of  callings,  so  that  at  the 
same  instant  one  may  follow  his  proper  vocation. 
The  husbandman  may  dart  forth  an  ejaculation, 
and  not  make  a  balk  the  more.  The  seaman,  never- 
theless, steers  his  ship  right  in  the  darkest  night. 
Yea,  the  soldier  at  the  same  time  may  sh^ot  out  his 
prayer  to  God,  and  aim  his  pistol  at  iiis  enemy,  the 
one  better  hitting  the  mark  tor  the  other. 

The  field  wherein  bees  feed  is  no  whit  the  barer 
for  their  biting  ;  when  they  have  taken  their  full 
repast  on  flower  or  grass,  the  ox  may  feed,  the 
sheep  fatten  on  their  reversions.  The  reason  is, 
because  those  little  chemists  distil  only  the  refined 
part  of  the  flower,  leaving  the  grosser  substance 
tliereof.  So  ejaculations  bind  not  men  to  any 
bodily  observance,  only  busy  the  spiritual  half, 
/hich  makes  them  consistent  with  the  prosecution 
of  any  other  employment.    — Fuller,  1608-1661. 

(3770.)  In  hard  havens,  so  choked  up  with  the 
envious  sands  that  great  ships  drawing  many  feet 
of  water  cannot  come  near,  lighter  and  lesser 
pinnaces  may  freely  and  safely  arrive.  When  we 
are  time-bound,  place-bound,  so  that  we  cannot 
compose  ourselves  to  make  a  large  solemn  prayer, 
this  is  the  right  instant  for  ejaculations,  whetlier 
orally  uttered,  or  only  poured  forth  inwardly  in  the 
heart.  — Fuller,  1 608-1 661. 

(3771.)  Accustom  thyself  to  secret  ejaculations 
and  converses  with  God.  Lovers  cast  many  a 
glance  at  each  other,  when  they  are  at  a  distance 
and  are  deprived  of  set  meetings.  A  little  boat 
may  do  us  some  considerable  service,  when  we 
have  not  time  to  make  ready  a  great  vessel. 

— Swititiock,  1673. 

(3772.)  "Pray  that  you  enter  not  into  tempta- 
tion." Now  when  thou  canst  not  draw  out  the 
long  sword  of  a  solemn  prayer,  then  go  to  the  short 
dagger  of  ejaculatory  prayer  ;  and  with  this,  if  in 
the  hand  of  faith,  thou  mayest  stab  thy  enemy  to 
the  heart.  — Guruall,  161 7-1679. 

(3773-)  Nehemiah,  on  the  occasion  of  Artaxerxes' 
speech  to  him,  interposeth  a  short  prayer  to  God 
between  the  king's  question  and  his  answer  to  it. 
"  Then  the  king  said  unto  me,  For  what  dost  thou 
make  request  ?  So  I  prayed  unto  the  God  of 
heaven,  and  I  said  unto  the  king,"  &c.  (Neh.  ii. 
4,  5).  So  soon  was  this  holy  man  at  heaven,  and 
back  again,  without  any  breach  of  manners  in 
making  the  king  wait  for  his  answer.  "  Pray  al- 
ways." —  Gurnall,  1617-1679, 

2.  Secret  prayer. 

(3774)  As  the  tender  dew  that  falls  in  the  silent 
night  makes  the  grass  and  herbs  and  flowers  to 
flourish  and  grow  more  abundantly  than  great 
showers  of  rain  that  fall  in  the  day,  so  secret  prayer 
will  more  abundantly  cause  the  sweet  herbs  of 
grace  and  holiness  to  grow  and  flourish  in  the  soul, 
than  all  those  more  open,  public  and  visible  duties 
of  religion,  which  too,  too  often  are  mingled  and 
mixed  with  the  sun  and  wind  of  pride  and  hypo- 
crisy. — Brooks,  1 608- 1 680. 

.  (3775-)  A  Christian  should  shut  both  the  door  of 
his  closet  and  the  door  of  his  lips  so  close,  that 
■one  should  hear  without  what   he   says  within. 


"Enter  into  thy  closet,"  says  Christ,  "and  when 
thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray."  But  what  need  a 
man  shut  his  closet  door,  if  he  may  pray  with  a 
clamorous  voice,  if  he  make  such  a  noise  as  all  in 
the  street  or  all  in  the  house  may  hear  him  ?  The 
hen,  when  she  lays  her  eggs,  gets  into  a  hole,  a 
corner ;  but  then  she  makes  such  a  noise  with  her 
cackling,  that  she  tells  all  in  the  house  where  sli4 
is.  Such  Christians  that  in  their  closets  do  imitate 
the  hen,  do  rather  pray  to  be  seen,  heard,  and 
observed  by  men,  than  out  of  any  noble  design  to 
glorify  God,  or  to  pour  out  their  souls  before  Him 
that  seeth  in  secret.  Sometimes  children,  when 
they  are  vexed,  or  afraid  of  the  rod,  will  run  behind 
the  door,  or  get  into  a  dark  hole,  and  there  they 
will  lie  crying  and  sighing  and  sobbing,  that  all 
tlie  house  may  know  where  they  are.  Oh,  it  is  a 
childish  thing  so  to  cry  and  sigh  and  sob  in  our 
closets,  as  to  tell  all  in  the  house  where  we  arc, 
and  about  what  work  we  are. 

— Brooks,  1 608- 1 68a 

(3776-)  We  are  more  or  less  disposed  for  our 
respective  duties  according  as  our  diligence,  con- 
stancy, and  seriousness  in  secret  prayer  is  more  or 
less.  The  root  that  produces  the  beautiful  and 
flourishing  tree,  with  all  its  spreading  branches, 
verdant  leaves,  and  refreshing  fruit,  that  which 
gains  for  it  sap,  life,  vigour,  and  fruitfulness,  is  all 
unseen  ;  and  the  farther  and  deeper  the  roots  spread 
beneath,  the  more  the  tree  expands  above.  Chris- 
tians !  if  you  wish  to  prosper,  if  you  long  to  bring 
forth  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  strike  your  roots  wide 


in  private  prayer. 


-Salter. 


{37T1-)  -A-  pious  young  lady,  speaking  one  day  of 
the  preciousness  of  secret  prayer,  was  asked  by  her 
pastor  how,  as  a  member  of  a  large  family  of  irreli- 
gious people,  who  were  seemingly  always  about 
her,  and  with  two  room-mates  to  share  her  chamber, 
she  managed  to  find  either  place  or  time  for  private 
devotion. 

"As  regards  time,"  was  the  answer,  "I  secure 
that  by  rising  an  hour  before  the  rest  of  the  family  ; 
and  the  lartje  drawing-room  is  my  closet." 

"The  large  drawing-room!"  exclaimed  the  pastor 
in  surprise.  "I  should  have  thought  that  such  a 
theatre  for  worldly  amusements,  and  sometimes  of 
profanity  as  well  as  dissipation,  would  have  been 
the  last  place  to  select  as  a  sanctuary  for  prayer." 

"It  was  selected  at  first,"  said  the  young  lady, 
"with  considerable  reluctance,  and  not  until  I  had 
failed  in  several  other  attempts  to  secure  quiet 
and  privacy  for  prayer  and  meditation  ;  for  I  feared 
that  the  associations  connected  with  that  room 
would  hinder  my  devotions.  But  I  have  not  found 
it  so.  On  the  contrary,  the  fact  of  my  having  there 
erected  an  altar  to  the  all-seeing  and  sin-haling 
God,  has  transformed  that  room  into  a  very  Bethel 
in  my  eyes  ;  while  the  memory  of  the  prayers  I 
have  offered  there  in  the  early  morning,  and  the 
sweet  seasons  of  communion  enjoyed  with  my 
Saviour,  furnish  the  best  antidote  to  the  tempta- 
tions that  beset  my  path.  I  no  sooner  enter  that 
room  than  I  feel  conscious  of  the  presence  of  Jesus ; 
and  knowing  Him  to  be  there,  I  dare  not  say  or  do 
anything  to  grieve  or  drive  Him  from  me.  If 
enticed  by  any  of  the  gay  company  my  aunt 
assembles  in  that  room,  to  engage  in  sinful  pastimes, 
I  hear  the  pleading  voice  of  my  Saviour,  saying, 
*My  daughter,  consent  thou  not.'     If  for  a  moment 


PRA  YER. 


(    641     ) 


PRA  YER. 


tempted  to  walk  in  the  broad  road  of  fashionable 
folly,  there  falls  on  my  ear,  in  f^entlest  accents,  the 
timely  warning,  '  Be  not  con  brmed  to  the  world  ;' 
and  redolent  as  is  the  ve/y  atmosphere  with  my 
Saviour's  presence,  I  can  La/e  no  fellowship  with 
the  works  of  darkness." 

"A  blessed  experience  is  yours,  my  daughter," 
was  the  minister's  response,  it  is  even  so.  Wher- 
ever we  seek  our  God  He  is  found  ;  and  every  place 
may  become  hallowed  ground.  Would  that  more 
of  the  fashionable  parlours  of  our  land  were  used 
as  Bethels  1 

3.  Intercessory  prayer. 

(3778)  Though  the  unconverted  have  not  hearts 
to  desire  it  at  your  hands  ;  pray  over  their  stupid 
souls  before  the  Lord.  When  a  friend  is  sick, 
and  his  senses  are  f;one,  you  do  not  stay  to  send 
for  the  physician  till  he  comes  to  himself,  and  is 
able  to  do  it  for  him.  You  had  need  make  the 
more  haste  to  God  for  such  as  these,  lest  they  go 
away  in  this  apoplexy  of  conscience,  and  so  be  past 
praying  for.  — Cumall,  1617-1679. 

4.  Family  prayer. 

(3779-)  Robert  Hall,  hearing  that  some  worldly- 
minded  persons  objected  to  family  prayer  as  taking 
up  too  much  time,  said  that  what  might  seem  a  loss 
will  be  more  than  coinjiensated  by  the  spirit  of 
order  and  regularity  which  the  stated  observance  of 
this  duty  tends  to  produce.  It  serves  as  an  edge 
and  border,  to  preserve  the  web  of  life  from 
unravelling.  "The  curse  of  the  Lord  is  in  the 
house  of  the  wicked ;  but  He  blesseth  the  habitation 
of  the  just." 

(3780.)  Now,  one  word  as  to  prayer  in  the  family. 
I  mean,  not  simply  the  prayer  of  father  or  mother, 
as  the  case  may  be,  but  prayer  where  you  are 
called,  in  the  family,  under  any  circumstances,  to 
lead  in  prayer  in  behalf  of  others.  Never  refuse  to 
take  up  your  cross  in  this  regard.  I  have  known 
parents  who,  as  they  were  about  to  come  into  the 
church,  felt  that  they  must  "set  up  the  family 
altar,"  as  the  phrase  is  ;  and  they  knelt  down  to 
pray,  and,  never  having  heard  their  own  voice  in 
prayer  before,  they  trembled  and  broke  down  and 
could  not  go  on.  And  then  the  devil  said  to  them, 
"Pretty  business  you  are  making  of  it  I  I  advise 
you  to  attend  to  something  that  you  can  do  better 
than  this."  And  they  got  up  in  disgust,  and  said, 
"  I  am  making'  a  fool  of  myself." 

Now,  a  child  that,  when  it  commences  walking, 
totters  and  falls,  does  not  make  a  fool  of  itself  A 
boy  in  school  that  forgets  his  P'rench,  and  cannot 
recite  his  lesson,  does  not  make  a  lool  of  himself. 
And  you  do  not  make  a  fool  ol  yourself,  if,  when 
you  first  attempt  to  pray  in  your  family,  you  do  nut 
succeed.  You  rather  excite  gentle  compassion  in 
God.  Do  you  suppose  you  have  a  scoffing  God 
and  sneering  angels  as  listeners,  when  you  make  a 
hailing,  broken  prayer?  Suppose  you  do  break 
down,  that  is  only  an  argument  for  your  trying 
again.  What  kind  of  a  life  have  you  been  living, 
what  sort  of  habits  have  you  formed,  that  the  first 
time  you  undertake  to  gratefully  recognise  in  your 
household  the  providence  and  kindness  of  God,  you 
should  give  up  because  you  stumble  and  fall  down  ? 
It  ought  to  be  an  argument  not  of  discouragement, 


but   of  persistence.     You   ought  to    say,    "By  the 
help  of  God,  I  will  persevere,  and  do  my  duly." 

— Beecher, 

(3781.)  A  Scottish  labourer  went  to  work  for  a 
wealthy  farmer.  It  was  regarded  as  something  of  a 
favour  to  be  employed  by  him,  as  he  was  a  prompt 
and  liberal  paymaster,  and  was  regarded  by  his 
neighbours  as  a  very  superior  farmer.  The  Scotch- 
man remained  with  him  only  a  few  days. 

"I'm  told  you've  left  farmer  R.,"  said  a  neigh* 
hour. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Was  the  work  too  hard  for  you?" 

"There  was  nothing  to  complain  of  on  that 
score." 

"  What  then  ?     Were  the  wages  too  low  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Why  did  you  leave?" 

"  lhe7-e  vjas  no  roof  on  the  house  I "  And  he  went 
on  his  way,  leaving  his  questioner  to  ponder  on  the 
strange  answer  he  had  given. 

Ihe  Scotchman's  meaning  may  be  found  in  the 
saying  of  an  old  writer,  who  affirms  that  a  dwelling 
in  which  prayer  is  not  offered  up  to  God  daily  is 
like  a  house  without  a  roof,  in  which  there  cannot 
be  either  peace,  safety,  or  comfort. 

XII.    MODES  OF  PRA  YER, 

1.  Mechanical  prayers. 

(3782.)  The  Thibetan  puts  his  written  prayers  in 
a  cylinder,  which  revolves  on  a  handle,  and  which 
he  twirls  by  the  aid  of  a  ball  and  chain,  each  revo- 
lution of  the  instrument  counting  for  an  offering 
of  the  enclosed  petition.  Sometimes  he  encloses 
these  in  a  great  drum  or  cylinder,  which  he  attaches 
to  running  water  as  he  constructs  his  rude  flour- 
mills,  thus  "praying  without  ceasing"  by  water- 
power  ;  or,  in  other  instances,  constructs  •  great 
prayer  windmills. 

In  Burinah,  the  Buddhist  punches  his  prayers  in 
long,  pennant-like  slips  of  gilt  paper,  which  he  ties 
to  a  slight  bamboo  stick  and  waves  before  his 
idol-god,  each  oscillation  being  a  repetition  of  the 
prayer,  of  which  he  keeps  count  by  a  rosary  number- 
ing one  hundred  and  eight  balls. 

In  Timbuctoo  (Africa),  the  priest,  or  wizard,  or 
medicine-man,  writes  prayers  on  a  piece  of  board, 
washes  it  off,  and,  catching  the  water  in  a  calabash, 
gives  sick  people  to  drink  of  it  for  their  recovery, 
or  sells  it  that  it  may  be  sprinkled  over  objects  to 
improve  or  protect  them. 

Mohammedans  wear  Koran  prayers  about  their 
persons  as  amulets  or  charms,  though  some  of  the 
African  Mohammedans  think  they  are  ineffectual 
against  firearms,  which  have  been  invented  since 
Mohammed's  day.  Ward  saw  a  Mohammedan 
woman  dropping  slips  of  paper  on  which  prayers 
were  written  into  a  river,  to  obtain  from  the  river- 
goddess  immunity  from  sickness. 

In  China,  the  Taoist,  in  case  of  sickness,  after 
periorniance  of  certain  ceremonies,  writes  a  state- 
ment of  the  fact  and  a  prayer  for  assistance  on  a 
piece  of  paper,  which  is  burned  by  the  officiating 
priest,  who  determines  whether  it  will  be  answered 
favouiably.  And  in  another  process,  a  message  is 
"  sent  to  heaven"  by  writing  it  on  paper  and  per- 
forming a  ceremony,  which  enables  the  soul  of  the 
petitioner  to  leave  the  body,  and  "  carry  the  me»- 
sage  to  heaven  and  bring  back  an  answer." 

z  s 


PR  A  YER. 


(    642    ) 


PRA  YER. 


In  India,  Mohammedans  sometime:*  pray  by 
proxy,  wealthy  f/ersons  hiring  a  sufficient  number 
of  men  to  alternate  and  ceaselessly  lead  Koran 
prayers  in  the  Imanebara  in  their  stead,  the  merit 
accruing  to  the  employer.  The  Mohammedan  also 
uses  a  rosary,  as  does  the  Hindoo  ascettC.  That  of 
the  Mohammedan  contains  thiity-three  beads,  that 
being  the  number  of  the  times  which  certain  parts 
of  his  formula,  such  as  "  God  is  most  j^reat :  there 
is  no  God  but  He,"  &c.,  must  be  repeated. 

— Gracey. 

2.  Extempore  prayers. 

(3783.)  Some  lay  it  to  the  charge  of  extemporary 
prayers,  as  if  it  were  a  diminution  to  God's  majesty 
to  offer  them  unto  Him,  because  (alluding  to  David's 
expression  to  Oman  the  Jebusite)  they  cost  nothing, 
but  come  without  any  pains  or  industry  to  provide 
them  (2  Sam.  xxiv.  24).     A  most  false  aspersion. 

Surely  preparation  of  the  heart  (though  not  pre- 
meditation of  every  word)  is  required  thereunto. 
And  grant  the  party,  praying  at  that  very  instant, 
forestudies  not  every  expression,  yet  surely  he  has 
formerly  laboured  with  his  heart  and  tongue  too, 
before  he  attained  that  dexterity  of  utterance,  pro- 
perly and  readily  to  express  himself.  Many  hours 
in  the  night  no  doubt  he  is  waking,  and  was,  by 
himself,  practising  Scripture  phrase  and  the  lan- 
guage of  Canaan,  whilst  such  as  censure  him  for 
his  laziness  were  fast  asleep  in  their  beds. 

Suppose  one  should  make  an  entertainment  for 
strangers  with  flesh,  fish,  fowl,  venison,  and  fruit, 
all  out  of  his  own  fold,  field,  ponds,  park,  and  or- 
chard, will  any  say  that  this  feast  cost  him  nothing 
who  makes  it  ?  Surely,  although  all  grew  on  the 
same,  and  for  the  present  he  bought  nothing  by  the 
penny,  yet  he,  or  his  ancestors  for  him,  did  at  first 
dearly  purchase  home  accommodations  from  whence 
this  entertainment  did  arise. 

So  the  party  who  has  attained  the  faculty  and 
facility  of  extemporary  prayer  (the  easy  act  of  a 
laborious  habit),  though  at  the  instant  not  appear- 
ing to  take  pains,  has  been  formerly  industrious 
with  himself,  or  his  parents  with  him,  in  giving 
pious  education,  or  else  he  had  never  acquired  so 
great  perfection,  seeing  only  long  practice  makes 
the  pen  of  a  ready  writer. 

— Fuller,  1 608-1 66 1. 

(3784.)  Let  them  that  yet  deride  this  as  uncertain 
and  inconsiderate  praying,  but  mark  themselves, 
whether  they  cannot  if  they  be  hungry  beg  for 
bread,  or  ask  help  of  their  physician  or  lawyer,  or 
landlord,  or  any  other,  as  well  without  a  learned 
or  studied  form,  as  with  it. 

—Baxter,  1615-1691. 

8.  Written  prayers. 

(i.)  Are  lawful. 

(3785.)  Set  prayers  are  prescript  forms  of  oui 
own  or  others'  composing  ;  such  are  lawful  for  any, 
and  needful  for  some,  to  use. 

Lawful  for  any.  Otherwise  God  would  not  have 
tppointed  the  priests  (presumed  of  themselves  best 
able  to  pray)  a  form  of  blessing  the  people.  Nor 
would  the  Saviour  have  set  His  prayer,  which  (as 
the  town-bushel  is  the  standard  both  to  measure 
corn  and  other  bushels  by)  is  both  a  prayer  in  itself 
and  a  pattern  or  platform  of  prayer.  Such  as  accuse 
set  forms  to  be  pinioning  the  wings  of  the  dove, 
will   by  the    next   return   afi&rm    that  girdles   and 


garters,  made  to  strengthen  and  adorn,  are  so  many 
shackles  and  fetters  which  hurt  and  hinder  men's 
free  motion. 

Needful  for  some.  Namely,  for  such  who  as  yet 
have  not  attained  (what  all  should  endeavour)  to 
pray  extempore  by  the  spirit.  But  as  little  children 
(to  whom  the  plainest  and  evenest  room  at  first  is 
a  labyrinth)  are  so  ambitious  of  going  alone,  that 
they  scorn  to  take  the  guidance  of  a  form  o>  bench 
to  direct  them,  but  will  adventure  by  therjselves, 
though  often  to  the  cost  of  a  knock  and  a  '.'all ;  so 
many  confess  their  weakness,  in  denying  to  confess 
it,  who,  refusing  to  be  beholden  to  a  set  ^rm  of 
prayer,  prefer  to  say  nonsense,  rather  than  nothing, 
in  their  extempore  expressions.  More  n.odesty, 
and  no  less  piety,  it  had  been  for  such  men  to  have 
prayed  longer  with  set  forms  that  they  micht  pray 
better  without  them.  — Fuller,  i6o8-i66i. 


(3786.)  "  Is  it  lawful  to  pray  in  a  set  form  of 
words  ? "  Nothing  but  very  great  ignorance  can 
make  you  really  doubt  of  it.  Hatli  God  anywhere 
forbid  it  ?  You  will  say  that  it  is  enough  that  He 
hath  not  commanded  it.  I  answer,  That  in  general 
He  hath  commanded  it  to  all  whose  edification  it 
tendeth  to,  when  He  commandeth  you  that  all  be 
done  to  edification ;  but  He  hath  given  to  you  no 
particular  command  or  prohibition.  No  more  hath 
He  commanded  you  to  pray  in  English,  French,  or 
Latin  ;  nor  to  sing  psalms  in  this  tune  or  that ; 
nor  after  this  or  that  version  or  translation  ;  nor  to 
preach  in  this  method  particularly  or  that  ;  nor 
always  to  preach  upon  a  text  ;  nor  to  use  written 
notes  ;  nor  to  compose  a  form  of  words,  and  learn 
them,  and  preach  them  after  they  are  composed, 
with  a  hundred  suchlike,  which  are  undoubtedly 
lawful ;  yea,  and  needful  to  some,  though  not  to 
others.  If  you  make  up  all  your  prayer  of  Scrip- 
ture sentences,  this  is  to  pray  in  a  form  of  prescribed 
words,  and  yet  as  lawful  and  fit  as  any  of  your  own. 
The  psalms  are  most  of  them  forms  of  prayer  or 
praise,  which  the  Spirit  of  God  indited  for  the  use 
of  the  Church,  and  of  particular  persons. 

But  are  those  forms  lawful  which  are  prescribed 
by  others  and  not  by  God? 

Yea ;  or  else  it  would  be  unlawful  for  a  child  or 
scholar  to  use  a  form  prescribed  by  his  parents  or 
master.  And  to  think  that  a  thing  lawful  doth 
presently  become  unlawful,  because  a  parent,  master, 
pastor,  or  prince  doth  prescribe  it,  is  a  conceit  that 
I  will  not  wrong  my  reader  so  far  as  to  suppose 
him  guilty  of.  Indeed  if  a  usurper,  that  hath  no 
authority  over  us  in  such  matters,  do  prescribe  it, 
we  are  not  bound  to  formal  obedience,  that  is,  to 
do  it  therefore  because  he  commandeth  it ;  but  yet 
I  may  be  bound  to  it  on  some  other  accounts ;  and 
though  his  command  do  not  bind  me,  yet  it  maketh 
not  the  thing  itself  unlawful. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(2.)  7>  many  are  necessary. 

(3787.)  One  man  is  so  unused  to  prayer  (being 
ignorantly  bred),  or  of  such  unready  memory  or 
expression,  that  he  cannot  remember  the  tenth 
part  so  much  of  his  particular  wants,  without  the 
help  of  a  form  as  with  it ;  nor  can  he  express  it  so 
afiectingly  for  himself  or  others  ;  nay,  perhaps  not 
in  tolerable  words ;  and  a  form  to  such  a  man 
may  be  a  duty ;  as  to  a  dim-sighted  man  to  read 


PR  A  YER. 


(    643    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


by  spectacles,   or  to  an  unready  preacher  to  use 
prepared  words  and  notes. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3788.)  In  the  family  many  cannot  do  without  a 
form.  True  Christians  who  truly  pray,  cannot 
pray  with  two  or  three  without  a  form.  If  so,  let 
them  use  it.  If  a  man  cannot  walk  without  a 
crutch,  let  him  use  a  crutch.  If  you  cannot  pray 
without  a  form,  then  by  all  means  adopt  the  form. 
Many  a  spiritual  prayer  is  breathed  from  a  form  ; 
many  a  formal  prayer  has  been  uttered  extempora- 
neously. But  the  essence  of  prayer  does  not  lie  in 
these  things.  We  may  say  prayers  all  day,  and 
yet  we  may  never  pray  at  all  ;  and  the  heart  often 
prays  most  fervently  when  the  lips  are  dumb  or 
wholly  inaudible.  It  is  not  the  eloquent  tongue 
that  we  want,  but  the  humble  and  anxious  heart. 
We  do  not  care  about  a  praying  place,  nor  do  we 
care  much  about  a  praying  book.  If  we  have  deep 
wants  felt  within,  the  he.art  will  speak  should  the 
lips  be  dumb.  And  God  hears  heai  t-prayer ;  He 
is  not  dependent  upon  its  outward  and  eloquent 
expression.  In  His  ear  the  Publican's  first  cry,  the 
Magdalene's  first  tear,  the  Tliiefs  word,  rose  with 
infinite  and  perfect  acceptance,  and  brought  down 
an  answer  exceeding  abundant  above  all  that  they 
could  ask  or  think.  — Gumming. 

(3.)  Efforts  should  be  made  to  outgrow  the  need  of 
them. 

(3789.)  Men  may,  by  sloth,  and  other  vicious  dis- 
tempers of  mind,  es]iecially  by  a  negligence  in 
getting  their  hearts  and  consciences  duly  affected 
with  the  matter  and  object  of  prayer,  keep  them- 
selves under  a  real  or  sup[)osed  disability  in  this 
matter  ;  but  whereas  prayer  in  this  sort  of  persons 
is  an  effect  of  common  illumination  and  grace, 
which  are  also  from  the  Spirit  of  God,  if  persons 
do  really  and  sincerely  endeavour  a  due  sense  of 
what  they  pray  for  and  about,  He  will  not  be  want- 
ing to  help  them  to  express  themselves  so  far  as 
is  necessary  for  them,  either  privately  or  in  their 
families.  But  those  who  will  never  enter  the  water 
but  with  flags  or  bladders  under  them  vvill  scarce 
ever  learn  to  swim  ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied  but  that 
the  constant  and  unvaried  use  of  set  forms  of  prayer 
may  become  a  great  occasion  of  quenching  the 
Spirit,  and  hindering  all  progress  or  growth  in  gifts 
or  graces.  — Owen,  1616-16S3. 

(4.)  Are  often  felt  to  be  inadequate. 

(3790.)  At  certain  times  of  strong  emotion  our 
religKius  feelings  outrun  any  form  of  words.  In 
such  cases,  not  only  is  there  no  need  of  forms  of 
prayer,  but  it  is  perhaps  impossible  to  write  lornis 
of  prayer  for  Christians  agitated  by  such  feelings. 
For  each  man  feels  in  his  own  way, — perhaps  no 
two  men  exactly  alike; — and  we  can  no  more  write 
down  how  men  ought  to  pray  at  such  times  than 
we  can  give  rules  bow  they  should  weep  or  be 
merry.  The  better  men  they  are,  of  course  the 
better  they  will  pray  in  such  a  trying  time  ;  but  you 
pannol  make  them  belter  ;  they  must  be  left  to 
themselves.  And,  though  good  men  have  before 
now  set  down  in  writing  forms  of  prayer  for 
persons  so  circumstanced,  these  were  doubtless 
meant  rather  as  patterns  and  helps,  or  as  admoni- 
tions and  (if  so  be)  quietings  of  the  agitated  mind, 


than  as  prayers  which   it    was   expected   would  be 
used  literally  and  entirely  in  their  detail. 

— Newman. 

(3791.)  No  written  prayer,  unaided  by  devotional 
exercises  drawn  from  the  heart,  can  suit  the  ever* 
varying  circumstances  in  the  divine  life.  Its  plans 
and  designs  against  its  spiritual  enemies  must  be 
formed,  like  the  plans  of  a  general  upon  the  field 
of  battle,  from  an  actual  observation  ;  he  regulates 
his  movements  from  actual  inspection,  and  makes 
his  arrangements  on  the  S])ot  according  to  the  exist- 
ing ciicumstances  in  which  he  is  placed  ;  for  there 
are  dangers  which  cannot  be  foreseen,  and  positions 
taken  up  by  the  enemy,  as  well  as  calamities  of  war 
to  be  met  and  encountered  with  on  the  spot.  Such 
is  the  actual  state  of  every  soul  which  is  actively 
fighting  the  good  fight  of  faith — the  soul  is  a  little 
world  where  nothing  is  at  rest,  but  all  its  powers 
and  faculties  are  continually  exercised  in  the  war 
between  the  flesh  and  the  spirit.  The  soul  which 
really  lives  to  God  is  engaged  in  a  perpetual  war- 
fare. Look  at  a  general.  His  plans  and  designs 
cannot  be  fixed  and  stationary,  but  are  ever  vary- 
ing. As  he  regulates  his  movements,  so  must  the 
believer.  His  plans  and  designs  as  to  his  spiritual 
enemies  can  only  arise  from  the  actual  circumstances 
in  which  he  is  placed.  To  mortify  sins,  and  keep 
down  the  risings  of  corruption — to  resist  the  en- 
croachments of  a  worldly  spirit,  and  the  temptations 
of  Satan — to  be  making  fresh  advances  in  faith, 
love,  and  hope,  is  the  daily  bu-siness  in  hand  ;  but 
our  losses,  trials,  temptations,  enemies  to  be 
resisted,  are  always  presenting  new  and  various 
aspects,  and  prayer  must  be  suited  to  the  sjiecial 
wants  and  temptations  of  the  day.      — Goulburn. 

(3792.)  Life  is  not  usually  a  procession  of  emer- 
gencies.  Men  ought  always  to  pray.  And  they 
ought  to  pray,  not  only  in  the  language  which  will 
be  found  extremely  precious  in  an  emergency,  but 
they  ought  to  pray  during  the  healthful  monotony 
of  an  industrious  life. 

Here  is  where  venerable  manuals  of  prayer  usu- 
ally fail  us.  No  doubt  he  that  is  familiar  with  all 
their  pages  can  find  something  in  them  specially 
suited  to  each  and  every  day  of  still  life  ;  but  as 
there  is  very  little  to  characterise  or  distinguish  one 
day  from  another,  so  there  is  very  little  by  which 
to  judge  and  select  the  prayers  that  are  fit.  A  well- 
phrased  prayer  covers  an  average  day,  as  a  snow-fall 
hides  the  little  ruts  and  hoof-marks  of  a  common 
road.  It  makes  all  days  and  all  roads  seem  alike. 
And  while  each  day,  however  insignificant,  is  made 
up  of  details  which,  one  by  one,  absorb  the 
attention,  tax  the  industry,  fill  the  life,  -and  mould 
the  chacatter,  the  prayer  for  that  day  articulates  no 
detail,  but  blankets  the  whole.  Thus  it  comes  to 
pass  that  daily  duty  means  something  definite, 
while  daily  prayer  has  little  or  no  articulation  of 
detail.  Under  such  conditions  prayer  must  neces- 
sarily become  uninteresting,  powerless. 

—T.  K.  Beecher. 

4.  The  mode  Is  non-essential,  the  spirit  all  la 
all. 

(3793.)  Over-value  not  therefore  the  manner  of 
your  own  worship,  and  over-vilify  not  other  men's 
of  a  different  mode.  And  make  not  men  believe 
that  God  is  of  your  childish  humour,  and  valueth  or 
vilifieth  words,  and  orders,  and  forms,  and  cere- 
monies, as  much  as  self-conceited  people  do. 


PRA  YER. 


(    644    ) 


PRA  YER. 


If  one  man  hear  another  pray  only  from  the 
habits  of  his  mind,  and  present  desires,  he  reproacli- 
elli  him  as  a  rash,  presumptuous  speaker,  that 
talketh  that  to  God  which  he  never  foreconsidered. 
As  if  a  beggar  did  rashly  a>k  an  alms,  or  a  corrected 
child  or  a  malefactor  did  inconsiderately  ask  for 
pardon,  unless  they  learn  first  the  vvoids  by  rote  ; 
or,  as  ii  all  men's  converse,  or  the  words  of  judges 
on  the  bench  were  all  rash  ;  or,  the  counsel  of  a 
physician  to  his  patient,  because  they  use  not 
books  and  forms,  or  set  not  down  their  words  long 
before. 

And  if  another  man  hear  a  form  of  prayer, 
especially  if  it  be  read  out  of  a  book  ;  and  especially 
if  it  have  any  disorder  or  defect,  he  stickelh  not  to 
revile  it,  and  call  it  false  worship,  and  man's  in- 
ventions and  perhaps  idolatry,  and  to  fly  from  it, 
and  make  the  world  believe  that  it  is  an  odious 
thing  which  God  disallowelh.  And  why  so  ?  Are 
your  words  so  much  more  excellent  than  the  words 
of  others  ?  Or,  are  all  words  bad  which  are  resolved 
on  beforehand  ?  Are  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  Psalms 
all  odious  because  they  are  book-forms  ?  Or,  doth 
the  commandment  of  other  men  make  God  hate 
them  ?  Let  parents  take  heed  then  of  commanding 
their  children  prescribed  words.  (Nay,  rather  let 
them  take  heed  lest  they  neglect  such  prescripts.) 
Or,  is  it  the  disorder  or  defects  that  makes  them 
odious?  Such  are  not  to  be  justified  indeed  wher- 
ever we  find  them  ;  but  woe  to  us  all,  if  God  will 
not  pardon  disorders  and  defects,  and  accept  the 
prayers  thai  are  guilty  of  them. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 69 1. 

XIII.  HINTS  AS  TO  THE  CONDUCT  OF 
fRA  YER. 

1.  Close  the  eyes, 

(3794.)  If  you  would  keep  your  mind  fixed  in 
prayer,  keep  your  eye  fixed.  "Unto  Thee  lift  I 
up  mine  eyes,  O  Thou  that  dwellest  in  the  heavens." 
Much  vanity  comes  in  at  the  eye.  When  the  eyes 
wander  m  prayer,  the  heart  wanders.  To  think  to 
keep  the  heart  fixed  in  prayer,  and  yet  let  the  eyes 
gaze,  is  as  if  one  should  think  to  keep  his  house 
safe,  yet  let  the  windows  be  open. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

2.  Calm  the  mind. 

(3795)  When  kneeling  down  to  pray,  if  for  a 
few  minutes  you  would  be  still  and  not  attempt 
either  to  pray  or  think,  but  yield  up  your  mind  to 
God,  it  prepares  the  soul  for  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
move  upon  its  waters,  and  I  find  that  words  are 
poured  into  my  mind  without  efiort  of  my  own,  and 
real  prayer  is  more  the  result.        — Maria  Hare. 

3.  Be  more  careftil  about  the  spirit  than  the 
order  of  prayer. 

(5796.)  Several  books  have  been  written  to  assist 
in  the  exercise  of  prayer,  and  many  useful  hints 
may  be  borrowed  from  them  ;  but  a  too  close  at- 
tention to  the  method  and  transitions  therein  re- 
commended, gives  an  air  of  study  and  formality, 
and  offends  against  that  simplicity  which  is  so  essenti- 
ally necessary  to  a  good  prayer,  that  no  degree  of 
acquired  abilities  can  compensate  for  the  want  of 
it.  It  is  possible  to  learn  to  pray  by  rule  ;  but  it 
is  hardly  possible  to  do  so  with  benefit  to  others. 
When  the  several  jjarts  of  invocation,  adoration, 
conicssion,   petition,   &c.,  follow  each  other  m  a 


Stated  order,  the  hearer's  mind  generally  goes  be- 
fore the  speaker's  voice,  and  we  can  form  a  tolerable 
conjecture  what  is  to  come  next.  On  this  account 
we  often  find  that  unlettered  people,  who  have  had 
little  or  no  help  from  books,  or  rather  have  not 
been  fettered  by  them,  can  pray  with  an  unction 
and  savour  in  an  unpremeditated  way,  while  the 
prayers  of  persons  of  much  superior  abilities,  per- 
haps even  of  ministers  them' elves,  are,  though 
accurate  and  regular,  so  dry  and  starched,  that  they 
afford  little  either  of  pleas  "ire  or  profit  to  a  spiritual 
mind.  The  spirit  of  prayer  is  the  truth  and  token 
of  the  spirit  of  adoption.  The  studied  addresses 
with  which  some  approach  the  throne  of  grace 
remind  us  of  a  stranger's  coming  to  a  great  man's 
door  ;  he  knocks  and  waits,  sends  in  his  name,  and 
goes  through  a  course  of  ceremony  before  he  gains 
admittance  ;  while  a  child  of  the  family  uses  no 
ceremony  at  all,  but  enters  freely  when  he  pleases, 
because  he  knows  he  is  at  home.  It  is  true  we 
ought  always  to  draw  near  the  Lord  with  great 
humiliation  of  spirit,  and  a  sense  of  our  unworthi- 
ness  ;  but  this  spirit  is  not  always  best  expressed 
or  promoted  by  a  pompous  enumeration  of  the 
names  and  titles  of  the  God  with  whom  we  have  to 
do,  or  by  fixing  in  our  minds  beforehand  the  exact 
order  in  which  we  propose  to  arrange  the  several 
parts  of  our  prayer. 

— Newton,  1 725-1807. 

4.  Be  natural. 

(3797-)  There  may  be  many  reasons  why  you  do 

not  like  to  pray.  One  may  be  that  you  really  are 
not  a  Christian,  and  cannot  speak  the  language  of 
Canaan.  Another  reason  may  be  that  you  have 
not  learned  to  pray  in  a  manner  that  is  adapted  to 
you.  It  may  be  that  you  undertake  to  employ 
forms  of  speech  which  to  you  are  unbefitting. 
You  remember  how  David  attempted  to  fight  the 
battle  with  Goliath  in  Saul's  armour,  how  he  found 
it  too  lar<,re  and  too  heavy  for  him,  and  how  he 
went  back  and  got  his  simple  sling,  with  which  he 
slew  the  giant.  Many  of  you  make  a  similar  mis- 
take in  praying.  You  try  to  pray  as  the  minister 
does,  or  as  some  elder  or  class-leader  does,  or  as 
some  fluent  brother  does,  and  you  do  not  succeed. 
You  try  to  walk  in  the  prayer  of  another  person 
who  has  had  more  experience  t'nan  you  have,  and 
it  rattles  about  you  as  Saul's  armour  did  about 
David.  It  is  a  world  too  big  for  you.  It  does  not 
fit  you  anywhere.  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  do 
not  want  to  pray  under  such  circumstances.  If, 
imitating  David,  who  went  back  to  the  sling,  the 
simplest  of  all  weapons,  you  would  be  content  to 
pray  as  a  little  child,  if  you  would  go  back  to 
lispitig  monosyllabic  prayers,  you  would  have  less 
difficulty  and  would  like  prayer  better. 

If  a  man  is  in  trouble,  and  he  says,  "  Oh,  help 
me  ! "  that  is  a  prayer.  One  single  sentence  is  a  prayer 
from  a  burtlened  heart.  Even  interjections  are 
prayers.  Sighing  may  be  praying,  if  you  are  in 
distress,  if  you  are  tempted,  if  you  have  a  special 
grief,  if  you  are  in  any  way  carrying  a  yoke  or  a 
burden,  just  put  your  prayer  on  that  spot ;  and  do 
not  try  to  make  a  good  prayer,  but  be  willing  to 
make  a  poor  one,  as  you  consider  it,  and  you  will 
experience  much  more  comfort  in  your  devotions. 
Never  mind  how  your  prayer  begins,  or  how  it  ends. 
Mo■^t  of  our  prayers  woukl  be  a  great  deal  better  if 
we  were  not  so  particular  about  the  beginning  and 
ending.     Let  your  prayer  be  the  upspringing  and 


PKA  YER. 


(    645    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


burstinn;  forth  of  your  real  feelings.  Prayer,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  life,  and  all  the  way 
through,  is  more  or  less  interjectional.  And  such 
prayer  i.s  more  apt  to  be  sincere,  and  to  stri]<e  at 
the  centre  of  real  want,  and  to  be  free  from  sham, 
than  almost  any  other.  — Beecher. 

6.  Be  reverent. 

(3798-)  No  man  shal^es  his  prince  by  the  hand,  or 
acco5.ts  him  with  an  "  Hail  fellow,  well  met  !  "  And 
if  the  laws  and  customs  of  nations  will  by  no  means 
endure  such  boldness  to  sovereign  princes,  for  fear 
of  debasing  majesty,  and  so  by  degrees  diminishing 
the  commanding  force  of  government,  surely  there 
ought  to  be  more  care  used  in  managing  our  de- 
portment toward  God  ;  since  the  impressions  we 
have  of  tilings  not  seen  by  us  are  more  easily  worn 
off  than  those  that  are  continually  renewed  upon 
the  mind  by  a  converse  with  visible  objects.  And 
that  which  will  bring  us  into  a  contempt  of  our 
earthly  prince  whom  we  see,  is  much  more  likely 
to  bring  us  into  a  light  esteem  of  our  heavenly 
King  whom  we  have  not  seen.  We  are  to  use  such 
words  as  may  not  only  manifest,  but  also  increase 
our  reverence  ;  we  are  (as  I  may  so  say)  to  keep 
our  distance  from  God,  in  our  very  approaches  to 
Him.  — Soiithy  1633-1 7 16. 

(3799-)  Still  more  offensive  is  a  custom  that  some 
have  ol  talking  to  the  Lord  in  prayer.  It  is  tlieir 
natural  voice,  indeed,  but  it  is  that  expression  of  it 
whicli  they  use  upon  the  most  familiar  and  trivial 
occasions.  The  human  voice  is  capable  of  so  many 
inilexions  and  variations,  that  it  can  adapt  itself 
to  the  different  sensations  of  our  mind,  as  joy, 
sorrow,  fear,  desire,  &c.  If  a  man  was  pleading 
for  his  life,  or  expressing  his  thanks  to  the  king  for  a 
pardon,  common  sense  and  decency  would  teach  him 
a  suitableness  of  manner  ;  and  any  one  who  could 
not  understand  his  language,  might  know,  by  the 
sound  of  his  words,  that  he  was  not  making  a  bar- 
gain, or  telling  a  story.  How  much  more,  when 
we  speak  to  tlie  King  of  kings,  should  tlie  con- 
sideration of  His  glory,  and  our  own  vileness,  and 
of  the  important  concerns  we  are  engaged  in  before 
Him,  impress  us  with  an  air  of  seriousness  and 
reverence,  and  prevent  us  from  speaking  to  Him 
as  if  He  was  altogether  such  an  one  as  ourselves. 
The  liberty  to  which  we  are  called  by  the  gospel, 
does  not  at  all  encourage  such  a  pertness  and 
famiHarity  as  would  be  unbecoming  to  use  towards 
a  fellow-worm  who  was  a  little  advanced  above 
us  in  worldly  dignity.         — Newton,  1725-1807. 

6.  Be  simple. 

(3S00.)  As  prayer  is  not  to  be  made,  to  be  seen 
of  men,  iieitlier  is  it  meant  to  inform  God.  Very 
beautifully  it  is  said,  "  He  knoweth  what  we  have 
need  of  before  we  ask."  And  hence  long  prayers, 
that  tell  God  in  most  eloquent  language  what  He 
is,  and  in  very  picturesque  language  what  we  are, 
seenj  altogether  inappropriate,  and  in  fact  are  mis- 
called prayer.  True  prayer  is  the  deep  expression 
of  our  deepest  wants  in  the  simplest  and  the  tersest 
Saxon,  and  in  the  hearing  of  Him  who  knows  all 
our  deepest  wants  before  we  tell  Him  the  upper- 
most ol  all.  Of  all  things  truly  shocking,  grandi- 
loquent language  in  prayer  is  not  the  least  so. 
Watch  a  person  who  loses  his  temper  in  the  streets  ; 
When  he  speaks  we  hear  no  fine  phrases,  no  beauti- 
iuUy   rounded    sentences ;    he    takes   the  nearest. 


shortest,  tersest  words ;  and  he  makes  them  the 
vehicle  of  his  deep  feeling.  Read  the  greatest  of 
dramatists,  and  you  will  find  the  very  same  thing. 
Study  our  Lord's  Prayer — how  simple  !  "  l)ur 
Father  which  art  in  heaven."  Or,  take  the  nearest 
to  it,  some  parts  of  that  magnificent  composition, 
the  English  Liturgy — how  beautiful  its  opening 
confession  1  all  monosyllables,  no  fine  language. 
"  We — have — done — thor^e — things — we — ought  — 
not — to — have — done."  How  very  simple,  and  yet 
how  expressive  of  deep  want,  how  appropriate  as 
the  vehicle  of  it !  Would  that  such  a  model  were 
universally  followed  ;  it  is  the  nearest  approximation 
to  the  beautiful  and  perfect  model  set  by  Him  that 
spake,  and  prayed,  and  lived,  and  died,  as  man 
never  did.  — Cumviing, 

7.  Be  thoughtful  and  deliberate. 

(3801.)  It  was  said  of  John  Bradford  that  he  had 
a  peculiar  art  in  prayer,  and  when  asked  his  secret 
he  said,  "  When  I  know  what  I  want  I  always 
stop  on  that  prayer  until  I  feel  that  I  have  pleaded 
it  with  God,  and  until  God  and  I  have  had  dealings 
with  each  other  upon  it.  I  never  go  on  to  an- 
other petition  till  I  have  gone  through  the  first." 
Alas !  for  some  men  who  begin,  "  Our  Father 
which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  Thy  name,"  and 
before  they  have  realised  the  adoring  thought — 
"hallowed  be  Thy  name" — they  have  begun  to 
repeat  the  next  words,  "Thy  kingdom  come;" 
then  perhaps  somettiing  strikes  their  mind,  "  Do  I 
really  wish  His  kingdom  to  come  ?  If  it  were  to 
come  now,  where  should  I  be?  "  And  while  they 
are  thinking  of  that,  their  voice  is  going  on  with, 
"Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  ;" 
so  they  jumble  up  their  prayers,  and  run  the  sen- 
tences together.  Oh  1  stop  at  each  one  till  you 
have  really  prayed  it.  Do  not  try  to  put  two 
arrows  on  the  string  at  once — they  will  both  miss. 
He  that  would  load  his  gun  with  two  charges  can- 
not expect  to  be  successful.  Discharge  one  shot 
first,  and  then  load  again.  Plead  once  with  God 
and  prevail,  and  then  plead  again.  Get  the  first 
mercy,  and  then  go  again  for  the  second.  Do  not 
be  satisfied  with  running  the  colours  of  your  prayers 
into  one  another,  till  there  is  no  picture  to  look  at 
but  just  a  huge  daub,  a  smear  of  colours  badly  laid 
on.  Look  at  the  Lord's  Prayer  itself.  What 
sharp,  clear  outlines  there  are  in  it.  There  are 
certain  definite  mercies,  and  they  do  not  run  into 
one  another.  There  it  stands  ;  as  you  look  at  the 
whole  it  is  a  magnificent  picture ;  not  confusion, 
but  beautiful  order.     Be  it  so  with  your  prayers. 

— Spurgeon, 

8.  Be  specific. 

(3802.)  Life  is  made  up  of  single  particulars, 
both  of  doing  and  suffering,  both  of  sin  and  duty ; 
and  the  prayer  which  has  respect  to  it  must  be  not 
vague  anti  general,  but  particular  and  even  minute. 
The  great  enemy  will  assail  me  to-day,  not  in  some 
grand  sweeping  charge,  which  every  energy  of  my 
soul  will  be  forewarned  and  forearmed  to  encounter 
— but  in  detail ;  in  a  multitude  of  light  skirmishings 
and  small  ambushes,  the  very  meaning  of  which 
will  be  often  doubtful,  and  their  result  apparently 
indecisive.  Yet  is  it  in  these  things  that  the  course 
of  the  life  shapes  itself,  and  the  destiny  of  the  life 
is  at  last  determined.  A  succession  of  little  defeat- 
ings  makes  up  at  last  a  rout  and  a  ruin.  If  I  wait 
to  defend  myself,  till  the  Imperial  Foe,  in  person 
and  presence,  places  himself  at  the  head  of  his 


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PRA  YER. 


piards  and  stakes  all  upon  one  last  effort — the 
battle  is  decided  before  it  is  waged,  and  tlie  soul 
which  would  not  arm  must  pay  the  price  in  dis- 
comfiture. So  then,  prayer,  which  is  the  arming 
of  the  soul,  must  have  respect  to  the  items  of  the 
conflict  even  more  than  to  the  sum.  A  vague 
petition  for  grace — a  general  entreaty  for  God's 
Strength  and  protection  through  the  day  that  is 
dawning — a  summary  view  of  duty  and  temptation, 
and  an  indiscrimiiiating  invocation  of  the  enabling 
and  preserving  Spirit — will  not  be  found  to  have 
brought  God  (so  to  speak)  into  tlie  very  heart  and 
body  of  the  day's  life :  superficial  prayer  can  look 
only  for  a  superficial  answer ;  and  the  intentions 
and  resolutions  of  the  slight  asker  are  but  as  tow 
when  it  totuheth  tlufire,  in  face  of  the  wily  strata- 
gems or  fiery  onslaughts  of  spiritual  wickedness  in 
high  places.  Tiie  Prayer  which  would  affect  Action 
must  be  minute  and  detailed  as  well  as  earnest. 
— C.  y.  Vaughan. 

9.  Be  Importunate. 

(3S03  )  How  often  have  I  seen  a  little  child 
throw  its  arms  around  its  father's  neck,  and  win, 
by  kisses,  and  importunities,  and  tears,  what  had 
been  refused  ?  Who  has  not  yielded  to  importunity, 
even  when  a  dumb  animal  looked  up  with  suppliant 
eyes  in  our  face  for  food  ?  Is  God  less  pitiful  than 
we?  — Gut/uie. 

10.  Be  short. 

(3S04. )  Pray  often  rather  than  very  long  at  a 
time.  It  is  hard  to  be  very  long  in  prayer,  and  not 
slacken  in  our  affections.  Those  watches  which  are 
made  to  go  longer  than  ordinary  at  one  winding, 
do  commonly  lose  towards  the  end.  The  flesh  is 
weak,  and  if  the  spirits  of  the  body  tire,  the  soul 
that  rideth  on  this  beast  must  needs  be  cast  behind. 
Our  Saviour  when  He  prayed  for  His  life,  we  find 
Him  praying  rather  often  than  long  at  once.  He 
who  in  a  long  journey  lights  often  to  let  his  beast 
take  breath,  and  then  mounts  upon  him  again,  will 
get  to  liis  journey's  end  may  be  sooner  than  he  that 
puts  him  beyond  his  strength.  Especially  observe 
this  in  social  prayers,  for  when  we  pray  in  com- 
pany, we  must  consider  them  that  travail  with  us 
in  the  duty  ;  as  Jacob  said,  "  I  will  lead  on  softly 
as  the  children  are  able  to  endure." 

— Gurnall,  1617-1619. 

(3805.)  The  third  argument  for  brevity,  or  con- 
tractedness  of  speech  in  prayer,  shall  be  taken  from 
the  very  nature  and  condition  of  the  person  who 
prays,  which  makes  it  impossible  for  him  to  keep 
up  the  same  fervour  and  attention  in  a  long  prayer 
that  he  may  in  a  short.  For  as  I  first  observed, 
that  the  mind  of  man  cannot  with  the  same  force 
and  vigour  attend  to  several  objects  at  the  same 
time,  so  neither  can  it  with  the  same  force  and 
earnestness  exert  itself  upon  one  and  the  same 
object  f  >r  any  long  time ;  great  intension  of  mind 
spending  the  spirits  too  fast  to  continue  its  first 
freshness  and  agility  long.  For  while  the  soul  is 
a  retainer  to  the  elements,  and  a  sojourner  in  the 
body,  it  must  be  content  to  submit  its  own  quick- 
ness and  spirituality  to  the  dulness  of  its  vehicle, 
and  to  comply  with  a  pace  of  its  inferior  companion ; 
just  like  a  man  shut  up  in  a  coach,  who,  while  he 
is  so,  nmst  be  willing  to  go  no  faster  than  the 
motion  of  the  coach  will  carry  him.  He  who  does 
all  by  the  help  of  those  subtile  refined  parts  of 
matter,  called  spirits,  must  not  think  to  preserve  at 


the  same  pitch  of  acting  while  those  principles  of 
activity  flag,  No  man  begins  and  ends  a  long 
journey  at  the  same  pace. 

But  now,  when  prayer  has  lost  its  due  fervour 
and  attention  (which  indeed  are  the  very  viials  of 
it),  it  is  but  the  carcass  of  a  prayer,  ami  conse- 
quently must  needs  be  loathsome  and  offensive  to 
God  ;  nay,  though  the  greatest  part  of  it  should 
be  enlivened  and  carried  on  with  an  actual  atten- 
tion, yet  if  that  attention  fails  to  enliven  any  one 
part  of  it,  the  whole  is  but  a  joining  of  the  living 
and  the  dead  together,  for  which  conjunction  the 
dead  is  not  at  all  the  better,  but  the  living  very 
much  the  worse.  It  is  not  length,  nor  copiousness 
of  language  that  is  devotion,  any  more  than  bulk 
and  bigness  is  valour,  or  flesh  the  measure  of  the 
spirit.  A  short  sentence  may  be  oftentimes  a  large 
and  a  mighty  prayer — devotion  so  managed  being 
like  water  in  a  well,  where  you  have  fulness  in  a 
little  compass,  which  surely  is  much  nobler  than 
the  same  carried  out  into  many  petit,  creeping 
rivulets,  with  length  and  shallowness  together. 
Let  him  who  prays  bestow  all  that  strength,  fervour, 
and  attention  upon  shortness  and  significance,  that 
would  otherwise  run  out  and  lose  itself  in  length 
and  luxuriancy  of  speech  to  no  purpose.  Let  not 
his  tongue  outstrip  his  heart,  nor  presume  to  carry 
a  message  to  the  throne  of  grace  while  that  stays 
behind.  Let  him  not  think  to  support  so  hard  and 
weighty  a  duty  with  a  tried,  languishing,  and 
bejaded  devotion  ;  to  avoid  which,  let  a  man  con- 
tract his  expression  where  he  cannot  enlarge  his 
affection,  still  remembering  that  nothing  can  be 
more  absurd  in  itself,  nor  more  unacceptable  to 
God,  than  for  one  engaged  in  the  great  work  of 
prayer  to  liold  on  speaking  after  he  has  left  off 
praying,  and  to  keep  the  lips  at  work  when  the 
spirit  can  do  no  more.  — South,  1633-1 7 16. 

(3806.)  Suppose  a  man  should  reason  in  the 
physiology  of  the  body,  as  many  persons  reason 
in  spiritual  physiology.  Suppose  a  man  should 
attempt  fidelity  to  his  physical  constitution  in  the 
same  way  that  many  attempt  fidelity  to  their  souls? 
Suppose  a  man  should  say  to  himself,  "Life  is  the 
duty  of  the  body,  and  eating  is  an  indispensable 
condition  of  growth  ;  "  and  should  eat,  and,  having 
satisfied  his  hunger,  should  say,  "  I  have  eaten 
for  nearly  an  hour,  and  I  no  longer  crave  food, 
but  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  go  on  eating,  that 
I  may  build  up  the  body.  I  do  not  see  how  I 
can  eat  any  more  :  and  yet,  it  seems  to  me  that  it 
would  be  a  delinquency  to  cease  eating?"  Stop 
one  moment.  What  is  eating,  but  a  process  of 
taking  in  materials  for  the  building  of  the  body? 
As  far,  therefore,  as  the  body  can  use  these  materials, 
it  is  right  to  eat ;  but  further  than  that  it  is  not 
right.  What  is  thinking  ?  It  is  eating.  Then,  as 
long  as  you  can  think  with  good  results,  think,  but 
no  longer.  W^hat  is  prayer  ?  It  is  soul-eating. 
As  long  as  the  food  of  prayer  does  you  good,  pray  ; 
but  when  it  ceases  to  do  you  good,  stop  praying. 
It  is  no  more  a  sm  to  stop  praying  under  such  cir- 
cumstances than  it  is  to  stop  eating  when  you  cease 
to  be  hungry.  But  men  seem  to  have  a  superstitious 
notion  that  they  must  keep  their  religious  nature 
eating  all  the  time.  —Beecher. 

(3807.)  Some  people  attempt  to  bring  down 
blessings  by  much  praying.  They  go  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  as  it  were,   v\ithout  any  definite  ibject  in 


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PRA  YER. 


their  mind.  They  pray  without  knowing  exactly 
what  they  are  prayin^  for.  This  is  not  wise.  In 
my  own  experience  I  have  found  that,  when  my 
thoughts  have  been  withdrawn  to  other  things,  and 
being  brought  back  to  God,  my  mind  is  not  eager 
to  hold  converse  with  Him,  it  is  not  well  to  plead 
with  Ilim  in  measured  prayers,  as  though  I  were 
bound  to  say  so  much  to  Him  every  day,  and  as 
though  He  would  not  be  satisfied  with  anything 
less.  My  father  and  mother  and  friends  never 
required  me  to  talk  with  them  a  given  amount. 
If  I  came  where  they  were,  and  did  not  feel  inclined 
to  talk,  they  bore  with  my  silence.  And  when  we 
go  to  God,  He  will  not  blame  us  for  talking  only  a 
little.  So  that,  when  I  go  to  God,  if  I  do  not  try 
to  make  long  prayers,  I  make  short  ones.  I  do  it, 
first,  because  I  have  not  much  to  say,  and  it  is  not 
truthful  to  go  on  praying  when  you  have  nothing  to 
say ;  and,  secondly,  because  short  prayers,  under 
such  circumstances,  are  positively  more  beneficial 
than  long  ones.  — Beecher. 

(3808.)  Short  prayers  are  long  enough.  There 
were  but  three  words  in  the  petition  which  Peter 
gasped  out  (Matt.  xiv.  30),  but  they  were  sufficient 
for  his  purpose.  Not  length,  but  strengih,  is 
desirable.  A  sense  of  need  is  a  mighty  teacher  of 
brevity.  If  our  prayers  had  less  of  the  tail-feathers 
of  pride  and  more  wing,  they  would  be  all  the 
better.  Verbiage  is  to  devotion  as  chaff  to  the 
wheat.  Precious  things  lie  in  small  compass,  and 
all  that  is  real  prayer  in  many  a  long  address 
might  have  been  uttered  in  a  petition  as  short  as 
that  of  Peter.  — Spurgeon. 

(3809.)  The  worth  of  prayer  is  not  gauged  by  its 
dimensions.  Long  supplications  may  be  possibly 
formal  and  heariless.  A  mere  cry,  if  prompted  by 
earnest  desire,  is  more  to  God  than  the  most  elabo- 
rate petition.  Have  you  noticed  the  figure  used  in 
respect  of  prayer  by  bt.  John?  He  tells  us  in  the 
book  of  the  Revelation  of  "golden  vials  full  of 
odours,  which  are  the  prayers  of  saints."  Mark  the 
phrase.  A  vial  is  not  a  large  vessel.  Usually 
urns  and  pitchers  are  larger.  But  a  vial  made  of 
gold  is  more  precious  than  a  brazen  urn  or  an 
earthenware  pitcher.  In  like  manner,  a  brief  but 
energetic  prayer  possesses  higher  worth  in  the  sight 
of  God  than  protracted  but  lukewarm  ones.  What 
quantity  of  electric  fluid  is  requisite  in  order  to  send 
a  telegraphic  message  from  England  to  the  United 
States?  Very  little  :  less  than  a  silver  thimblcfull. 
Even  so,  a  limited  yet  fervent  entreaty  will  reach 
heaven  and  secure  an  answer.  The  Pharisee  in  the 
temple  had  plenty  to  say  :  words  flowed  apace  : 
he  stood  and  delivered  quite  an  elaborate  address. 
Meanwhile,  all  the  poor  Publican  could  do  was  to 
cry,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner."  Albeit, 
we  know  which  of  the  two  "  went  down  to  his 
house  justified  rather  than  the  other." 

— T.  R.  Stevenson. 

11.  Let  It  begin,  continue,  and  end  in  humble 
dependence  on  the  merits  of  Clirist. 

(3810.)  We  are  to  pray  to  God  not  only  as  a 
Father,  but  also  evermore  in  the  name,  and  through 
the  merits,  and  relying  on  the  intercession  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  The  name  of 
Christ  is  not,  as  some  seem  to  regard  it,  a  musical 
close  to  a  beautiful  collect ;  nor,  as  others  view  it, 
the  signal  of  the  congregation  that  the  prayer  is 


done.  That  is  not  the  meaning  of  praying  in  the 
name  and  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  no 
decent  peroration  ;  it  is  no  accustomed  finale  to  our 
prayer.  His  name  is  the  very  ground  on  which  we 
kneel,  it  is  the  very  right  of  our  approach,  it  is  the 
very  channel  through  which  we  address  God,  and 
by  which  God  can  send  down  blessings  upon  us. 

— Cumming. 

XIV.    CHARACTERISTICS  OF  ACCEPTABLS 


1.  It  Is  spontaneous. 

(3S11.)  A  little  girl  went  out  to  play  one  day  in 
the  fresh  new  snow,  and  when  she  came  in  she 
said  :  "  Mamma,  I  couldn't  help  praying  when  I 
was  out  at  play."  "  What  did  you  pray,  my 
dear  ?  "  "I  prayed  the  snow-prayer,  mamma,  that 
I  learned  once  in  Sunday-school  :  '  Wash  me, 
and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow.'"  What  a 
beautiful  prayer  !  And  here  is  a  sweet  promise  to 
go  with  it  !  "Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they 
shall  be  as  white  as  snow."  And  what  can  wash 
them  white — clean  from  every  stain  of  sin  ?  The 
Bible  answers  :  "  They  have  washed  their  robes, 
and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. " 

2.  It  is  simple  and  sincere. 

(3812.)  As  a  father  is  more  delighted  with  the 
imperfect  talk  of  his  own  little  child  when  it  first 
begins  to  speak,  than  with  the  exactesl  eloquence 
of  the  most  famous  orator  upon  earth  :  so  assuredly 
our  Heavenly  Father  is  infinitely  better  pleased 
with  the  broken,  interrupted  passages  and  periods 
of  prayer  in  thee,  an  upright  heai  t,  heartily  grieved 
that  thou  canst  do  no  better,  than  with  the  ex- 
cellently composed,  fine-phrased,  and  most  metho- 
dical petitions  of  the  most  learned  pharisee.  Nay, 
His  soul  extremely  loathes  the  one,  and  graciously 
accepts  the  other  in  Jesus  Christ. 

— Bolton,  1572-1631. 

{3813.)  Our  prayers  are  our  bills  of  exchange, 
and  they  are  allowed  in  heaven,  when  they  come 
from  pious  and  humble  hearts ;  but  if  we  be  broloen  in 
our  religion,  and  bankrupts  of  grace,  Goil  vvill  protest 
our  bills  ;  He  will  not  be  won  with  our  prayers. 

— Adams,  1 653. 

(3814.)  When  thou  prayest  before  others,  ob- 
serve on  what  thou  bestowest  thy  chief  care  and 
zeal,  whether  in  the  externals  or  internals  of  prayer, 
that  which  is  exposed  to  the  eye  and  ear  of  men, 
or  that  which  should  be  prepared  for  the  eye  and 
ear  of  God  ;  the  devout  posture  of  thy  body,  or 
the  inward  devotion  of  thy  soul ;  the  pomp  of  thy 
words,  or  the  power  of  thy  faith  ;  the  agitation  of 
thy  bodily  spirits  in  the  vehemency  of  thy  voice,  or 
the  fervency  of  thy  spirit  in  heart-breaking  affec- 
tions. These  inward  workings  of  the  soul  in  prayer, 
are  the  very  soul  of  prayer,  and  all  the  care  about 
the  other  without  this,  is  like  the  ti  immiag  bestowed 
upon  a  dead  body,  that  will  not  make  the  carcase 
sweet,  nor  these  thy  prayer  to  God's  nostrils. 

— Gurnall,  161 7- 1 679. 

(3815.)  Prayer  must  be  sincere.  Sincerity  is  the 
silver  thread  which  must  run  through  the  whole 
duties  of  religion.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3816.)  "  I  can't  make  a  very  smooth  prayer,  but 
Jesus  hears  me,"  were  among  the  dying  words  of  a 
dear  friend  of  mine. 

Two  or  three  days  before  his  death  some  one 


PR  A  YER. 


(    648    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


was  talking  to  him  about  prayer — the  expression, 

"  gifted  in  prayer,"  being  used.     F looked  up 

and  said  the  words  witii  which  I  have  bet;un,  "  I 
can't  make  a  very  smooth  prayer,  but  Jesus  hears 
me  ! "  They  are  suggestive.  The  child,  coming 
to  his  father  for  bread,  asks  in  the  simplest  way, 
"  My  father,  I  am  hungry  ;  please  feed  me  !  "  The 
blind  beggar  by  the  wayside  went  with  no  set  peti- 
tion to  the  Healer  when  the  noise  of  tramping  feet 
and  the  sound  of  many  voices  told  him  that  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  was  passing  by.  The  publican  said 
only,  "  God  be  merci:ul  to  me  a  sinner."  It  is  not 
the  prayer  of  sonorous  length,  or  of  the  most 
melodious  phrase,  that  soonest  reaches  the  throne  ; 
it  is  the  heart-cry  for  peace  and  pardon  that,  sent 
up  in  faith,  reaches  the  ear  of  J  esus. 

3.  It  is  joyful. 

(3817.)  Many  prayers  may  be  put  up  by  persons 
in  necessity  without  any  spiritual  deli-ht  in  them  : 
as  infirm  persons  take  more  physic  than  those  that 
are  healthful,  yet  they  delight  not  in  that  physic. 
— Chafnock,  1628- 1680. 

(3818.)  There  must  be  delight  on  our  parts. 
Joy  is  the  tuning  the  soul.  The  command  to  rejoice 
precedes  the  command  to  pray  :  "  Rejoice  ever- 
more ;  pray  without  ceasing."  Delight  makes  the 
melody  ;  prayer  else  will  be  but  a  harsh  sound. 
God  accepts  the  heart  only  when  it  is  a  gift  given, 
not  forced.     Delight  is  the  marrow  of  religion. 

Dulness  is  not  suitable  to  the  great  things  we 
are  chiefly  to  beg  for.  Gospel  discoveries  are  '*  a 
feast."  Dulness  becomes  not  such  a  solemnity. 
Manna  must  not  be  sought  for  with  a  dumpish 
heart.  With  joy  we  are  to  draw  water  out  of  the 
wells  of  salvation.  Faith  is  the  bucket,  but  joy 
and  love  are  the  hands  that  move  it.  I'hey  are 
the  Huz  and  Aaron  that  hold  up  the  hands  of  this 
Moses.  God  does  not  value  that  man's  service 
who  accounts  not  His  service  a  privilege  and  a 
pleasure.  — CJiamock,  1628-1680. 

4.  It  is  adoring. 

(3819.  Not  what  is  told  a  child  profits  him,  but 
what  the  child  tells  the  teacher.  Not  that  which 
entereth  into  a  man  defiles  or  sanctifies,  but  that 
which  Cometh  forth  out  of  the  heart.  Hence,  a 
department  of  prayer  sometimes  derided,  and  often- 
times neglected,  namely,  the  contemplation  of  God 
Himself,  ascriptions  of  praise,  or  statements  as  to 
His  purposes.  It  is  often  said,  as  if  the  mere 
saying  revealed  the  absurdity  of  it,  men  make 
theological  statements  to  God,  describe  Him  to 
Himself,  and  make  polite  speeches.  Such  an 
objector  shows  himself  little  versed  in  the  spiritual 
necessities  and  laws  of  his  own  education. 

The  multiplication  table  is  stated  a  thousand 
times  to  teachers,  who  knew  it  before  ad  nauseam. 
Yet,  every  statement  is  a  profit  to  the  children,  who 
are  to  learn  the  facts  stated. 

Is  a  child  upon  its  mother's  lap,  stroking  her 
hair,  or  patting  her  cheek,  and  saying,  "  Pretty 
mamma!"  unprofited  by  that  act  of  filial  love? 
If,  taught  by  some  unwise  teacher,  he  comes  home 
loaded  to  the  muzzle,  and  climbing  up  to  the  same 
resting-place,  says,  "Oh,  most  accomplished  among 
women !  Provider  of  all  my  necessities,  and 
salisfier  of  my  wants  I    My  heart's   best   affection 


I  lay  at  your  feet  1 "     I  doubt  whether  child  oi 
parent  would  be  profited. 

If  God  deals  with  us  as  with  children,  let  us 
deal  with  God  as  with  a  father.  — T.  K.  Beecher. 

5.  It  is  thankful. 

(3820.)  "Let  your  requests  be  made  known 
with  thanksgiving."  As  God  hath  an  open  hand 
to  give,  so  He  hath  an  open  eye  to  see  who  comes 
to  His  door,  and  to  discern  between  the  thankful 
beggar  and  the  unthankful. 

— Gurnail,  161 7-1679. 

6.  It  is  thoughtful. 

(3821.)  The  speech  of  the  mouth  must  not  go 
before,  but  always  follow  after  the  conception  of 
the  mind.  Many  times  as  a  musician's  fingers  will 
run  over  a  song  which  he  has  been  used  to  play, 
although  his  mind  is  otherwise  occupied  ;  so  many 
in  prayer  will  run  over  that  form  of  words  they 
have  been  used  to  utter,  though  their  minds  are 
roving  about  other  matters.  Oh,  let  the  absurdity 
of  the  fault  breed  in  us  a  loathing  of  it  1 

— Ambrose,  1664. 

(3822.)  There  is  a  story,  how  that  one  offered  to 
give  his  horse  to  his  fellow,  upon  condition  he 
would  but  say  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  think  upon 
nothing  but  God.  The  proffer  was  accepted,  and 
he  began  ;  "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven, 
Hallowed  be  Thy  name.  But  I  must  have  the 
bridle  too,"  said  he.  "  No,  nor  the  horse  neither," 
said  the  other;  "for  thou  hast  lost  both  already." 
And  thus  it  is  that  too,  too  many  in  their  both  private 
and  public  addresses  unto  God  by  prayer  are,  by  the 
suggestions  of  Satan,  walking  with  St.  Jerome  in 
the  galleries  of  Rome,  having  their  hearts  roving 
after  pleasures  of  sin,  their  thoughts  taken  up  with 
the  things  of  this  world,  and  their  whole  man  set 
upon  vanity  ;  whereas  they  should  rather  mind  that 
which  they  are  about,  keep  close  to  God  and  be  so 
watchful  over  their  souls,  that  their  hearts  and 
tongues  may  go  comfortably  together  ;  for  the  out- 
ward work  only  is  but  like  the  loathsome  smoke  of 
Sodom,  whereas  the  inward  devotion  of  the  heart 
is  not  unfitly  compared  to  the  pleasant  perfume  of 
the  sweetest  frankincense.  — Spencer,  1658. 

7.  It  is  submissive. 

(3823.)  Many  times  Jesus  and  His  people  pull 
against  one  another  in  prayer.  You  bend  your 
knee  in  prayer  and  say,  "  Father,  I  will  that  Thy 
saints  be  with  me  where  J  am  ; "  Christ  says, 
"  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  Thou  hast 
given  Me  be  with  Me  where  /  am."  Thus  the  dis- 
ciple is  at  cross-purposes  with  his  Lord.  The  soul 
cannot  be  in  both  places  ;  the  beloved  one  cannot 
be  with  Christ  and  with  you  too.  Now,  which 
pleader  shall  win  the  day?  If  you  had  your  choice, 
if  the  King  should  step  from  His  throne,  and  say, 
"  Here  are  two  supplicants  praying  in  opposition 
to  one  another  ;  wliich  shall  be  answered?  "  Oh, 
I  am  sure,  though  it  were  agony,  you  would  start 
from  your  feet,  and  say,  "Jesus,  not  my  will,  but 
Tliine,  be  done."  You  would  give  up  your  prayer 
for  your  loved  one's  life,  if  you  could  realise  the 
thought  that  Christ  is  praying  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, "Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  Thou 
hast  given  Me  be  with  Me  where  I  am."  Lord, 
Thou  shait  have  them.     By  faith  we  let  them  go. 

— Spurgeon. 


PR  A  YER. 


(    649    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


8.  It  iB  trastfal, 

(38:»4. )  We  have  "bolJnoss  to  enter  into  the 
holiest  by  the  blood  of  jesus."  It  is  the  boldness 
of  the  liitle  child  thaf,  Lmbanibbed  by  one's  pre- 
sence, Climbs  his  father's  knee,  and  tlirows  his  arms 
around  hib  neck — or  burstingf  into  his  room,  breaks 
in  on  his  bu?;iest  hours,  to  h.ivs  a  bleeding  bound, 
or  some  childish  iears  kissed  away,  that  says  if  any 
threaten  to  hurt  hini,  "I  will  tell  my  father,"  and, 
however  he  might  tremble  to  sleep  alone,  fears 
neither  ghosts,  nor  man,  nor  darkness,  nor  devils, 
if  he  lies  couched  at  his  father's  side.  Such  con- 
fidence, bold  as  it  seems,  springs  from  trust  in  a 
father's  love  j  and  pleases  rather  than  offends  us. 

— Guthrie. 

(3825.)  Prayer  is  the  expression  of  our  wants  to 
God,  as  our  Father.  Too  many  pray  as  criminals 
deprecating  the  wrath  of  a  judge,  •n'ltead  of  praying 
as  children  asking  the  blessing  cf-  oar  Father  who 
is  in  heaven.  When  we  draw  ntT.r  to  God  in 
prayer,  we  are  not  to  feel  as  criminals  in  the  dock, 
but  as  children  around  our  Father's  knee ;  and 
the  saddest  sinner  laden  with  the  greatest  sin 
exhibits  the  truest  grace  when  he  driws  near  to 
God,  and  in  the  name  of  Jesus  says,  My  Fati'er  ! 
"  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with" — ihe 
judge  ?  No.  "  If  any  man  sin  we  have  an  advocate 
with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous."  Oar 
creed  begins,  "I  believe  in  God  the  Father." 
The  first  model  prayer  taught  us  is,  "Our  Father 
which  art  in  heaven  ;  "  and  the  less  of  criminal 
deprecation,  and  the  more  filial  confidence  in  our 
prayers,  the  more  we  exhibit  the  characteristic 
spirit  of  the  gospel  of  Christ.  But  when  all  is  deep 
and  earnest  deprecation  of  wrath,  without  one 
single  expression  of  filial  trust,  such  a  litany  or 
prayer  sounds  more  like  the  wild  wail  of  despair, 
than  the  hopeful  cry  of  the  still  beloved,  though 
long  a  prodigal  son,  seeking  bread  from  his  father's 
stores,  and  a  shelter  under  his  father's  roof-tree. 
For  what  did  the  prodigal  say,  at  his  greatest  dis- 
tance from  home,  in  tlie  depth  and  bitterness  of 
his  wnrst  estrangement?  "I  will  arise  and  go  to 
my  father."  That  was  the  last  lingering  tie  or 
link  within  him,  and  that  thought  thrilled,  in 
blessed  vibrations,  through  his  soul,  awakened  in 
his  lonely  heart  all  the  music  of  the  blessed,  and 
made  him  arise,  and  with  delighted  hopes  go  to 
his  father,  and  seek — what  he  found  there — a  bless- 
ing, and  bread,  and  a  joyous  welcome. 

— Cumtnitig. 

(3826.)  The  pleading  prayers  of  many  Christians 
— the  whole  tone  of  them  is  that  of  a  suppliant 
beggar.  Many  prayers  have  what  is  called  "the 
holy  tone."  I  call  it  the  -whining  tone  of  mendi- 
cancy. A  man  speaks  in  a  manly  way  to  his  fellow- 
men,  to  his  companions  ;  but  the  moment  he  comes 
to  address  God  his  manner  is  all  changed,  and  he 
goes  from  the  depths  of  doleful  solemnity  to  the 
heights  of  deliquescent  piety  in  a  tone  of  abject 
pleading,  pleading,  pleading.  I  do  not  think  God 
ever  enjoys  seeing  an  unmanly  humility. 

1  have  a  hound  on  my  place  which  I  think  well 
of  except  when  he  comes  to  me,  and  lies  down  on 
his  back,  and  rolls  over,  and  querls  up  his  legs  in 
most  distressing  humility  and  obsequiousness.  I 
certainly  do  not  like  this  in  a  dog  ;  and  if  I  had  a 
child  that  came  to  me  so,  I  would  send  him  off 
with  a  different  thought  very  quick. 


Now  do  you  s.ippose  it  is  agreeable  to  the 
grandeur,  the  honour,  the  sensibility  or  the  love  of 
the  All-Father,  that  men  should  come  creeping  up 
to  Mis  feet,  and  plead  in  such  an  abject  state  of 
mind  as  implies  that  He  needs  to  be  placated  ; 
that  He  needs  to  be  coaxed,  that  He  needs  to  be 
persuaded  ?  — Beecher. 

9.  It  is  believing. 

(3827.)  Prayer  is  the  key  of  heaven,  and  faith  is 
the  hand  that  turns  it.  — Watson,  1696. 

{3828.)  Prayer  is  the  gun  we  shoot  with,  fervency 
is  tlie  fire  that  dischargeth  it,  and  faith  is  the  bullet 
which  pierceih  the  throne  of  grace. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(3829.)  Faith  is  to  prayer  as  the  feather  is  to  the 
arrow  ;  faith  feathers  the  arrow  of  prayer,  and  makes 
it  fly  swifter,  and  pierce  tlie  throne  of  grace. 
Prayer  that  is  faithless  is  fruitless. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(3830.)  Some  prayers  are  not  heard  because  men 
do  not  believe  that  God  will  grant  them.  Were 
one  writing  a  note  to  a  friend,  and  saying,  "  I 
would  be  much  the  better  for  such  a  thing," — 
naming  it.  "  You  can  easily  spare  it  ;  but  I  have 
little  expectation  that  you  will  do  me  such  a 
favour  ; "  would  this  be  a  likely  way  to  compass 
his  object?  Though  he  had  wished  to  fail,  could 
he  have  worded  his  application  otherwise  ?  And 
so,  when  a  man  kneels  down  and  prays  for  pardon 
of  his  sins,  or  for  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
or  for  assurance  of  salvation,  but  prays  for  them  as 
if  the  Lord  would  grudge  to  give  them,  can  he 
wonder  that  he  is  not  heard  ?  Whatsoever  the  Lord 
has  promised,  that  He  is  willing  to  bestow,  and, 
"  whatsoever  things  we  ask  in  pr.nyer,  believing 
that  we  have  them,  we  receive  them." 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

10.  It  is  fervent, 

(3831.)  Pray  fervently,  or  thou  dost  nothing. 
Cold  prayer  is  no  more  prayer  than  painted  fire  is 
fire.  The  promise  is  only  to  fervent  prayer.  A 
still-born  child  is  no  heir,  neither  is  a  prayer  that 
wants  life  heir  to  any  promise.  Fervency  is  to 
prayer  what  fire  was  to  the  spices  in  the  censer, 
w  ithout  this  it  cannot  ascend  as  incense  before  God. 
Some  have  attempted  a  shorter  cut  to  the  Indies  by 
the  North,  but  were  ever  frozen  up  in  their  way ; 
and  so  will  all  sluggish  prayers  be  served. 

—  Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3832.)  Observe  whether  thy  fervency  in  prayer 
be  uniform  ;  a  false  heart  may  seem  very  hot  in 
praying  against  one  sin,  but  he  can  skip  over 
another,  and  either  leave  it  out  of  his  confession,  or 
handles  it  very  gently,  as  a  partial  witness,  that 
would  fain  save  the  prisoner's  life  he  comes  .Tgainst, 
will  not  speak  all  he  knows,  but  minceih  his  evi- 
dence ;  thus  doth  the  hypocrite  deal  with  his 
darling  lust.  He  is  like  one  that  mows  grass  with  a 
gapped  scythe,  some  he  cuts  down,  and  others  he 
leaves  standing  ;  vehement  against  this,  and  favour- 
able to  that  lust ;  whereas  sincerity  makes  clear 
work  as  it  goes.  "Order  my  steps  in  Thy  word, 
and  let  no  iniquity  have  dominion  over  me." 

—  Gurnall,  16 17-1679. 

(3833.)  Cold  prayers  bespeak  a  denial,  but  fervent 
prayers  offer  a  sacred  violence  both  to  heaven  and 


PR  A  YER. 


(    650    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


earth.  As  a  body  without  a  spirit,  much  wood 
without  a  fire,  a  bullet  in  a  gun  without  powder  ; 
so  are  all  prayers  without  fervency  of  spirit. 

— Brooks,  1680. 

(3834. )  "  Effectual  fervent  prayer  prevails  much." 
Cold  prayers,  like  cold  suitors,  never  speed. 
Prayer,  without  fervency,  is  like  a  sacrifice  with- 
out fire.  Fervency  is  to  prayer  as  fire  to  the 
incense  ;  it  makes  it  ascend  to  heaven  as  a  sweet 
perfume.  Prayer  without  fervency  is  no  prayer  ; 
ii  is  speaking,  not  praying :  lifeless  prayer  is  no 
more  prayer  than  the  picture  of  a  man  is  a  man. 
Christ  prayed  with  strong  cries  (Heb.  v.  7)  Clamor 
tstf  p^/uOai  uiiies  CLuther.)  Fervent  prayer,  like  a 
petard  set  against  heaven's  gates,  makes  them  fly 
open.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3835.)  The  arrow  which  is  shot  from  a  loose 
cord  drops  powerless  to  the  ground  ;  but  from  the 
tightly  drawn  bow  string  it  springs  forward,  soars  up- 
ward, and  reaches  the  object  to  which  it  is  directed. 
So,  it  is  not  the  loose  utterance  of  attempted  prayer 
that  is  effectual,  but  the  strong  earnestness  of  the 
heart  sending  its  pointed  petitions  to  heaven,  that 
reaches  the  Divine  ear  and  obtains  the  desired 
blessing.  — Bowden. 

(3836.)  When  the  spirit  pleads  at  the  throne  of 
God,  when  guilt,  flying  from  justice,  is  knocking  loud 
and  long  at  the  door  of  mercy,  one  not  in  earnest 
himself  may  wonder  at  the  language  which  earnest- 
ness ventures  to  employ.  Why  should  they  wonder? 
Her  loyal  subjects,  standing  at  respectful  distance, 
address  their  sovereign  in  respectful  terms  ;  using 
sourtly  language  to  a  courtly  ear.  But  let  a  royal 
cortege  pass  the  procession  that  conducts  a  felon 
to  the  scaffold,  as  a  drowning  man  who  sees  a  plank 
float  by  grasps  at  life,  he,  bursting  from  his  guards, 
spiings  to  her  side  ;  clings  to  her  robe,  to  cry.  Oh, 
pardon,  save  me  !  and  when  to  her  order,  Unhand 
me,  let  me  pass — he  answers,  No  ;  I  will  not  let 
thee  go — who  so  hardhearted  as  to  beat  the  wretch 
away ;  or  so  blind  as  not  to  see  that  this  is  not 
insolence,  but  earnestness?  — Guthrie. 

(3S37.)  Earnestness  does  not  express  itself  in 
long,  inflated,  pompous  sentences.  It  is  brief;  it 
is  simple.  The  moment  has  arrived  when  victory, 
long  doubtful  as  the  tide  of  success  ebbed  and 
flowed,  may  be  won  by  one  splendid,  dashing, 
daring  attack — the  order  is  given  in  one  brief  word. 
Charge  !  On  the  distant  waves  a  flag  is  seen  now 
sinking  in  the  trough  and  again  rising  on  the  crest 
of  the  foaming  billows  ;  and  beneath  that  signal, 
clinging  to  the  fiagment  of  a  vessel  that  lies  many 
fathoms  down  in  "the  depths  of  ocean,  are  two 
human  forms — and  all  the  cry  that  sounds  from 
stem  to  stern  is,  A  wreck,  a  wreck  !  and  all  the 
order.  Lower  the  boat  I — words  hardly  uttered 
when  she  drops  on  the  water,  and  pulled  by  stout 
rowers,  is  leaping  over  the  waves  to  the  rescue. 
One  late  in  the  deserted  streets  sees  the  smoke 
creep,  and  the  flames  begin  to  flash  and  flicl<er 
from  a  house  whose  tenants  are  buried  in  sleep  ; 
he  bounds  to  the  door  and  thunders  on  it — all  his 
cry.  Fire,  fire !  Peter  sinks  amid  the  boisterous 
waves  of  Galilee,  and  all  ilie  prayer  of  lips  the  cold 
water  kisses  is,  as  he  stretches  out  his  hand  to 
Jesus,  Save  me,  I  perish  !  And  with  the  brief, 
urgent  earnestness  of  one  who  seeing  his  danger 
knows  that  there  is  no  time,  and  believing  in  God's 


great  mercj  feels  that  there  is  no  need  for  long 
prayers,  the  publican,  like  a  man  who  in  falling 
over  a  crrg  catches  the  arm  of  a  friendly  tree, 
throws  his  whole  soul  into  this  cry,  these  few, 
blessed,  accepted  words,  "God  be  merciful  to  me, 
a  sinner  1 "  — Guthrie. 

(3838.)  Prayer  pulls  the  rope  below  and  the 
great  bell  rings  above  in  the  ears  of  God.  Some 
scarcely  stir  the  bell,  for  they  pray  so  languidly  ; 
others  give  but  an  occasional  pluck  at  the  rope  ; 
but  he  who  wins  with  lieaven  is  the  man  who  grasps 
the  rope  boldly  and  pulls  continuously,  with  all  his 
might.  —Spurgeon. 

11.  It  Is  persevering. 

(3839.)  I  saw  the  other  day  a  man  attempting  to 
split  a  rock  with  a  sledge-hammer.  Down  came 
the  sledge  upon  the  stone  as  if  it  would  crush  it, 
but  it  merely  rebounded,  leaving  the  rock  as  sound 
as  before.  Again  the  ponderous  hammer  was 
swung,  and  again  it  came  down,  but  with  the  same 
result.  Nothing  was  accomplished.  The  rock  was 
siill  without  a  crack.  I  might  have  asked  (as  so 
many  are  disposed  to  ask  concerning  prayer)  what 
good  could  result  from  such  a  waste  of  time  and 
strength.  But  that  man  had  faith.  He  believed 
in  the  power  of  that  sledge.  He  believed  tiiat 
repeated  blows  had  a  tendency  to  split  that  rock. 
And  so  he  kept  at  it.  Blow  after  blow  came  down 
all  apparently  in  vain.  But  still  he  kept  on  without 
a  thought  of  discouragement.  He  believed  that  a 
vigorously  swung  sledge  "  has  great  power."  And 
at  last  came  one  more  blow  and  the  work  was 
done. 

That  is  the  way  in  which  we  ought  to  use  prayer. 
God  has  told  us  that  "the  earnest  prayer  of  the 
righteous  man  has  great  power."  We  ought  to 
believe  it,  just  as  that  man  believed  that  his  sledge 
had  power.  And  believing  it,  we  ought  to  use 
prayer  for  the  attainment  of  spiiitual  results  with 
just  such  confidence  of  success  as  that  man  used  his 
sledge.  We  may  not  secure  our  answer  at  once. 
That  rock  was  not  split  at  the  first  blow  or  the 
second.  But  that  man  believed  that  if  he  continued 
his  blows,  he  was  more  likely  to  succeed  every 
blow  he  struck.  So  we  are  to  believe  that  there  is 
a  spiritual  power  in  prayer,  just  as  there  was  a 
physical  power  in  that  sledge.  And  that  the  more 
perseveringly  and  earnestly  we  use  it,  the  more  ■ 
certain  are  we  to  accomplish  something  by  it. 

xVi  PREREQUISITES  TO  ACCEPTABLE 
PRAYER. 

1.  Meditation. 

(3840.)  Before  the  tradesman  goes  to  the  fair, 
he  looks  over  his  shop,  that  he  may  know  what 
commodity  he  most  lacks.  Thou  goest  to  this  duty 
to  furnish  thyself  with  the  graces  and  mercies  thou 
needest  ;  is  it  not  necessary,  then,  to  see  what  thy 
present  store  is?  what  thy  personal  and  what  thy 
relational  needs  are?  not  forgetting  the  public,  in 
whose  pence  and  happiness  thou  an  so  much  con* 
cerned  ;  for  if  this  ship  sink,  thou  canst  not  be  safe 
in  t!iy  private  cabin.  To  leave  ail  these  to  occur 
and  overtake  tliee,  without  charging  thy  thoughts 
with  them  by  previous  mediiaiion,  is  too  high  a 
presumption  for  a  sober  Ciiristian  to  take  up. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3841.)   Meditation   before   prayer   matures  oar 


PR  A  YER 


(    651     ) 


PR  A  YER. 


conceptions  and  quickens  oui  desires.  Our  heart 
is  like  a  watch  that  is  soon  un  down,  and  needs 
constant  winding  up.  It  is  an  instrument  that  is 
easily  put  out  of  tune.  And  meditation  is  like  the 
tuniiig  of  an  instrument,  and  setting  it  for  the 
harmony  of  prayer.  What  is  the  reason  that  in 
prayer  there  is  such  an  easy  discurrency  in  our 
thoughts— that  our  thoughts  are  like  dust  in  the 
wind,  carried  to  and  fro  ;  but  only  for  want  of 
meditation?  What  is  the  reason  that  our  desires, 
like  an  arrow  shot  from  a  weak  bow,  do  not  reach 
the  mark,  but  only  this,  we  do  not  meditate  before 
prayer  ?  He  that  would  but  consider,  before  he 
comes  to  pray  to  the  pure  majesty  of  God,  the  thing 
that  he  is  to  pray  for,  pardon  of  sin,  and  the  life  of 
glory,  how  would  this  cause  his  prayers  to  ascend 
like  incense  towards  God  !  The  great  reason  why 
our  prayers  are  ineffectual  is,  because  we  do  not 
meditate  before  them.  David  expresseth  prayer  by 
meditation  :  "  Give  ear  to  my  words,  O  Lord ;  con- 
sider my  meditation."         — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3842.)  The  Spirit  measures  out  His  assistance 
to  men  in  the  use  of  the  means  proper  for  the 
effeciing  of  any  work,  but  suspends  and  denies  that 
assistance  where  the  use  of  those  means  is  neglected  ; 
for  He  co-operaies  with  men  according  to  the 
established  courses  of  working  proper  10  their 
natures  :  and  no  man  prays  and  preaches  more  by 
the  S]iirit  than  he  that  bestows  time  and  study  in 
the  orderly  disposing  of  what  he  is  to  say,  and  so 
employs  and  exerts  those  faculties  of  mind  which  the 
Spirit  of  God  endowed  him  with,  for  the  better  and 
more  exact  management  of  those  holy  services  tliat 
he  stands  engaged  in.  Were  a  man  to  petition  his 
prince,  or  to  plead  at  the  bar  for  his  life,  I  believe 
none  could  persuade  him  to  venture  the  issue  of  so 
great  an  action  upon  his  extempore  gift.  But 
admit  that  a  man  be  never  so  well  furnished  with 
an  ability  of  speaking  suddenly  and  without  pre- 
meditation, yet,  certainly  premeditation  and  care 
would  improve  and  heighten  that  ability,  and  give 
it  a  greater  force  and  lustre  in  all  performances. 
And  if  so,  we  are  to  remember  that  God  calls  for 
our  best  and  our  utmost ;  we  are  to  bring  the  fairest 
and  the  choicest  of  our  flock  for  an  offering,  and 
Dot  to  sacrifice  a  lame,  unconcocted,  wandering 
discourse  to  God,  when  our  time  and  our  parts  are 
able  to  furnish  us  with  one  much  more  accurate  and 
exact.  When  a  Roman  gentleman  invited  Augustus 
Cffisar  to  supper,  and  provided  him  but  a  mean 
entertainment,  Caesar  very  properly  took  him  up 
with  an,  "  Friend,  pray  how  come  you  and  I  to  be 
so  familiar?"  Great  persons  think  themselves 
entertained  with  respect  when  they  are  entertained 
with  splendour ;  and  they  think  wisely  and  rightly. 
In  like  manner,  Gud  will  reject  such  sons  of  pre- 
sumption and  impeitinence  with  di.sdain ;  and 
though  they  took  no  time  for  the  making  of  their 
prayers,  yet  He  will  take  time  enough  before  He 
will  grant  them.  — South,  1633-17 16. 

(3§43-)  To  make  prayer  of  any  value,  there 
should  be  definite  objects  for  which  to  plead.  We 
often  ramble  in  our  prayers  after  this,  that,  and  the 
other,  and  we  get  nothing,  because  in  each  we  do 
not  really  desire  anything.  We  chatter  about  many 
subjects,  but  the  soul  does  not  concentrate  itself 
upon  any  object.  Do  you  not  sometimes  fall  on 
your  knees  without  thinking  beforehand  what  you 
mean  t3   ask  God    for?  you   do,   as   a   matter   of 


habit,  without  any  motion  of.your  heart.  You  are 
like  a  man  who  would  go  to  a  shop  and  not  know 
what  articles  he  would  procure.  He  may,  perhaps, 
make  a  happy  purchase  when  he  is  there,  tint 
certainly  it  is  not  a  wise  plan  to  adopt.  And  so 
the  Christian  in  prayer  may  afterwards  attain  to  a 
real  desire,  and  get  his  end  ;  but  how  mucii  better 
would  he  speed  if,  having  prcpaied  his  soul  by 
consideration  and  self-examination,  became  to  God 
for  an  object  at  which  he  was  about  to  aim  with  a 
real  request.  Did  we  ask  an  audience  at  Her 
Majesty's  court,  we  should  not  be  expected  to  go 
into  the  pre-ence  of  royalty,  and  then  to  think  of 
some  petition  after  we  came  there.  Even  so  with 
the  child  of  God.  He  would  be  able  to  answer  the 
great  question :  "  What  is  thy  petition,  and  what 
is  thy  request,  and  it  shall  be  done  unto  thee?" 
Imagine  an  aicher  shooting  with  his  bow,  and  not 
knowing  where  the  mark  is  !  would  he  be  likely  to 
have  success?  Conceive  a  ship,  on  a  voyage  of 
discovery,  putting  to  sea  without  the  captain  having 
any  idea  of  what  he  was  looking  for  I  would  you 
expect  that  he  vv-ould  come  back  heavily  laden 
either  with  the  discoveries  of  science  or  with  trea- 
sures of  gold?  In  everything  else  you  have  a  plan. 
You  do  not  go  to  work  without  knowing  that  there 
is  something  that  you  designed  to  make  :  how  is  it 
that  you  go  to  God  without  knowing  what  blessing 
you  design  to  have.  — Spurgeon. 

2.  Familiarity  with  the  promises. 

(3844.)  Furnish  thyself  with  arguments  from  the 
promises  to  enforce  thy  prayers,  and  make  them 
prevalent  with  God.  The  promises  are  the  ground 
of  faith,  and  faith,  when  strengthened,  will  maka 
thee  fervent,  and  such  fervency  ever  speeds  and 
returns  with  victory  out  of  the  field  of  prayftr. 
"The  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  the  righteous  CLan 
availeth  much."  Words  in  prayer  are  but  as 
powder,  the  promise  is  the-  bullet  that  doth  the 
execution,  faith  the  grace  that  chargeth  the  soul 
with  it,  and  fervency  that  gives  fire  and  dischargeth 
it  into  God's  bosom  with  such  a  force,  that  the 
Almighty  cannot  deny  its  entrance,  because,  indeed. 
He  will  not.  Now,  as  he  is  an  imprudent  soldier 
that  leaves  his  bullets  to  be  cast,  or  titled  to  the 
bore  of  his  pieces,  till  he  comes  into  the  field  ;  so 
he  is  an  unwise  Christian  that  doth  not  provide  and 
sort  promises  suitable  to  his  condition  and  request, 
before  he  engagcth  in  so  solemn  a  service.  Daniel 
first  searched  out  the  promise,  what  God  had 
engaged  Himself  to  do  for  His  people,  as  also 
when  the  date  of  this  promise  expired  ;  and  when, 
by  meditation  and  study  upon  it  he  had  raised  his 
heart  to  a  firm  belief  thereof,  then  he  sets  upon 
God  with  a  holy  violence  in  prayer,  and  presseth 
Him  close,  not  only  as  a  merciful  God,  but  righteous 
also,  to  remember  them  now  the  bond  of  His 
promise  was  coming  out,  "O  Lord,  according  to 
all  Thy  righteousness,  I  beseech  Thee,  let  Thine 
anger  and  Thy  fury  be  turned  away  from  Thy  city 
Jerusalem,"  &c.  (Dan.  ix.  16).  The  mightier 
any  is  in  the  Word,  the  more  mighty  he  will  be  ia 
prayer.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3845-)  The  scope  and  spirit  of  our  prayers  should 
be  limited  by  the  promises  ol  God.  This  is  to 
make  prayer  a  matter  of  serious  premeditation. 
And,  to  keep  it  progressive  with  an  understanding 
of  the  Scriptures,  a  knowledge  of  the  purposes  ol 
God  must  precede  it ;  and  witliout  that  knowledge 


PR  A  YER. 


(    652    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


It  is  an  empty  form,  «r  rather  a  sinful  liberty  taken 
with  the  ear  of  God.  As  if  you  would  go  to  a 
judge  and  ask  him  to  favour  your  case,  or  to  a 
friend  and  ask  him  to  do  you  a  wrong  ;  or  it  is  as 
if,  having  received  intelligence  from  a  distant  cor- 
respondent, you  should  presume  to  write  back  to 
him  upon  the  subject  witliout  being  at  the  pains  to 

Eeruse  what  he  had  said.  It  is  most  lamentable  to 
ear  very  often  how  this  necessary  rule  of  prayer 
is  broken  tlirough,  and  with  what  rude,  unprepared 
language  the  ear  of  God  is  vexed. 

— Irving,  1792-1834. 

3.  Penitence, 

(3846.)  Take  heed  of  carrying  purposes  of  going 
on  in  sin  with  thee  to  the  throne  of  grace  ;  this 
were  a  horrible  wickedness  indeed.  As  if  a  traitor 
should  put  on  the  livery  which  the  prince's  servants 
wear,  for  no  other  end  but  to  gain  more  easy 
access  to  his  person  that  he  might  stab  him  with  a 
dagger  he  hath  under  that  cloak.  Is  it  not  enough 
to  sin,  but  wouldst  thou  make  God  accessary  to 
His  own  dishonour  also? 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

4.  Divine  assistance. 

(3847.)  There  must  be  life  in  the  soul  before 
there  can  be  life  in  the  duty.  All  the  rugs  in  the 
upholsterer's  shop  will  not  fetch  a  dead  man  to 
warmth,  nor  any  arguments,  though  taken  from 
the  most  moving  topics  in  the  Scripture,  will  make 
thee  pray  fervently  while  thy  soul  lies  in  a  dead 
state.  Go  first  to  Christ  that  thou  mayest  have  life, 
and  having  life,  then  there  is  hope  to  chafe  thee 
into  some  heat.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3848. )  Implore  the  help  of  God's  Spirit  to  fix  our 
minds,  and  make  them  intent  and  serious  in  prayer. 
The  ship  without  a  pilot  rather  floats  than  sails  ; 
that  our  thoughts  do  not  float  up  and  down  in 
prayer,  we  need  the  Blessed  Spirit  to  be  our  pilot  to 
steer  us  :  only  God's  Spirit  can  bound  the  thoughts. 
A  shaking  hand  may  as  well  write  a  line  steadily, 
as  we  can  keep  our  hearts  fixed  in  prayer  without 
the  Spirit  of  God.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3849.)  As  the  sails  of  a  ship  carry  it  into  the 
harbour,  so  prayer  carries  us  to  the  throne  and 
bosom  of  God.  But  as  the  sails  cannot  of  them- 
selves speed  the  progress  of  a  vessel  unless  filled 
with  a  favourable  breeze,  so  the  Holy  Spirit  must 
breathe  upon  our  hearts,  or  our  prayers  will  be 
motionless  and  lifeless.      — Toplady,  1740- 17  78. 

XVI.    PROPER  SEQUENCES  TO  PRAYER. 

1.  Effort. 

(3850.)  Be  vigorous  in  the  use  of  all  appointed 
means  to  mortify  the  lust  thou  prayest  against. 
Resolutions  in  the  time  of  prayer  are  good,  when 
backed  with  strenuous  endeavours,  else  but  a  blind 
for  a  false  heart  to  cover  itself  with.  Samson  did 
not  only  pray  he  might  be  avenged  on  his  enemies, 
but  set  his  hands  to  the  pillars  of  the  house. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3851.)  The  Christian's  prayer  may  miscarry, 
when  with  his  prayer  he  joins  not  a  diligent  use  of 
the  means.  We  must  not  think  to  lie  upon  God, 
as  some  lazy  people  do  on  their  rich  kimhed ;  to 
be  always  begging  of  Him,  but  not  put  forth  our 
hand  to  work  in  the  use  of  means.  God  hath 
appointed  prayer  as  a  help  to  our  diligence,  not  as 


a  cloak  for  our  slcth.     Idle  beggars  are    welcome 
neither  to  God's  door  noi  man's. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3852.)  We  must  join  our  endeavour  in  the  use 
of  all  means  with  our  prayers,  whether  they  be 
put  up  for  spiritual  or  temporal  bles-ings.  Lazy 
beggars  are  not  to  be  relieved  at  our  door.  *'  This 
we  commanded  you,  that  if  any  would  not  work, 
neither  should  he  eat."  And  certainly  God  will 
not  bid  them  welcome  to  His  door,  whom  He  would 
have  us  deny  at  ours.  We  must  pray  with  our 
hand  at  the  pump,  or  the  ship  will  sink  in  sight 
of  our  prayers.  Is  it  temporal  subsistence  thou 
prayest  for?  pray  and  work,  or  pray  and  starve. 
Dost  thou  think  to  set  God  at  work,  while  thou 
sittest  with  thy  hand  in  thy  bosom  ? 

— GtLriiall,  1617-1679. 

(3853.)  Let  no  man  think  that  he  has  prayed  hearti- 
ly against  sin,  who  does  not  use  his  utmost  diligence 
to  undermine  and  weaken  his  inclination  to  that  sin. 
To  water  an  ill  pLint  every  day,  and  to  pray  against 
the  power  of  it,  would  be  preposterous.  St.  Paul, 
we  know,  complained  of  "a  body  of  death,"  and 
of  "a  thorn  in  the  flesh,"  and  he  prayed  heartily 
against  it.  But  was  that  all?  No,  he  also  "  kept 
under  his  body,  and  brought  it  into  subjection," 
being  well  assured,  that  unless  tlie  soul  keeps  under 
the  body,  the  body  will  quickly  get  above  the  soul. 
If  you  would  destroy  a  well  intrenched  enemy,  cut 
ofif  his  provisions  ;  and  if  you  starve  him  in  his 
strongholds,  you  conquer  him  as  eftectually  as  if 
you  beat  him  in  the  field.      — South,  1633-17 16. 

(3S54.)  In  securing  answers  to  our  requests,  we 
must  co-operate  with  the  Lord.  Some  people  ask 
Him  to  do  their  work.  "  Father,"  said  a  little 
boy,  after  he  had  heard  him  pray  fervently  for  the 
poor  at  famdy  worship — "  Father,  I  wish  I  had  your 
corn-crib."  "Why,  my  son  ?  "  "Because  then  I 
would  answer  your  prayer."  I  have  heard  profes- 
sing Christians  pray  for  the  conversion  of  their 
children,  while  they  were  taking  them  night  alter 
night  into  scenes  of  frolic  and  dissipation.  We 
may  make  fools  of  ourselves,  but  the  Almighty  will 
never  let  us  make  a  fool  of  Him.  God  is  not 
mocked  ;  whatsoever  we  sow  we  shall  also  reap. 
A/ either  does  God  ever  mock  us.  — Cuyler. 

2.  Self-ezamination. 

(3855.)  Do  not  only  observe  thy  thoughts  is 
duty,  but  call  them  to  a  review  after  duty.  Many 
go  from  prayer  too  much  like  boys  from  school, 
that  think  no  more  of  their  lesson  till  they  return 
again — leave  praying,  and  all  thouglits  how  they 
have  behaved  themselves  in  prayer  together  :  for 
shame  do  not  thus.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

3.  Watchfulness. 

(3856.)  He  that  prays  and  watcheth  not,  is  like 
him  thai  sows  a  field  with  precious  seed,  but  leaves 
the  gate  open  for  hogs  to  come  and  root  it  up ;  or 
him  that  takes  great  pains  to  get  money,  but  no 
care  to  lay  ii  up  safely  when  he  hath  it. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(o^S?-)  When  a  man  prays  against  any  sin  or 
temptation,  and  yet  ventures  upon  those  occasions 
which  usually  induce  men  to  it,  he  must  not  expect 
to  find  any  success  in  his  prayers.     For  would  anj 


PR  A  YER. 


(    653    ) 


PR  A  YER. 


man  in  his  wits,  who  dreaded  a  catching  distemper, 
converse  freely  with  such  as  had  it  ?  tliat  is,  would 
be  fly  from  the  disease,  and  yet  run  into  the 
infeciion?  In  like  manner,  do  not  occasions  of 
sin  generally  end  in  the  commission  of  sin?  And 
if  tliey  generally  end  in  it,  must  they  not  naturally 
tend  to  It?  And  if  so,  can  men  think  that  God 
ever  designed  prayer  as  an  engine  lo  counterwork 
or  control  nature,  to  reverse  its  laws,  and  alter  the 
course  of  the  universe,  by  suspending  the  natural 
efficiency  of  things,  in  comiiliai!ce  with  some  men's 
senseless  and  irrational  petitions? 

None  trifle  with  God  and  make  a  sport  of  sin  so 
much  as  those  whose  way  of  living  interferes  with 
their  prayers  ;  who  pray  for  such  or  such  a  virtue, 
and  then  put  themselves  under  circumstances  which 
render  the  practice  of  it  next  to  impossible  :  who 
pray  perhaps  for  the  grace  of  sobriety,  and  then 
wait  daily  tur  an  answer  to  that  piayer  at  a  merry- 
meeting  or  the  tavern.  But  the  sjiirit  of  prayer  is 
a  sjiirit  of  prudence,  a  spirit  of  caution  and  conduct, 
and  never  pur-ues  the  thing  it  prays  for  in  a  way 
contrary  to  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself. 

— SoiUh,  1633-1716. 

XVII,    HINDRANCES  TO  PRAYER, 

1.  Indulgence  In  sin. 

(3858.)  A  man  that  is  wounded  may  call  npon 
the  suryeon  to  have  some  ease  of  his  pain,  but  if  he 
will  not  endure  to  have  the  splinter  or  the  arrow- 
head pulleti  out  that  sticketh  fast  in  the  flesh  and 
causelh  the  grief,  he  mny  cry  long  enough,  but  all 
in  vain;  and  if  people  should  pray  to  God  to  stay 
the  fury  of  the  burning,  when  a  house  is  on  fire, 
and  themselves  in  the  meantime  pour  on  oil  or 
throw  on  fuel,  there  will  be  but  small  hope  of 
quenching  the  same.  So  there  can  be  no  comfort- 
able return  of  our  prayers  unto  God  till  sin  be 
removed  ;  it  is  but  folly  to  seek  unto  God  by  prayer 
till  the  partition  wall  of  sin  that  is  betwixt  us  and 
Ilim  be  broken  down.  It  is  sin  that  crosseth  and 
hindereth  the  eflect  and  fruit  of  prayer  :  like  those 
heathens  of  whom  the  cynic  made  this  observation, 
that  they  prayed  indeed  to  their  gods  for  health, 
but  at  the  very  same  time,  when  they  prayed,  they 
used  such  excess  as  could  not  but  greatly  impair 
their  health,  and  so  wilfully  deprived  themselves  of 
that  they  prayed  for.  — Spencer,  1658. 

2.  Qw'AX,  on  the  conscience. 

(3^59-)  Guilt  on  the  conscience  is  one  great 
hindrance  to  prayer.  When  sin  is  recent — when, 
like  Adam  skulking  among  the  trees,  the  bitter 
sweet  oi  the  lorbidden  fruit  is  still  present  to  his 
taste,  and  his  newly-opened  eyes  are  aghast  at  his 
own  deformity — it  is  not  natural  for  the  self-con- 
demned transgressor  to  draw  near  to  God.  And  it 
is  not  till  the  Spirit  of  God  directs  his  view  to  the 
unnoticed  sacrifice,  and  encourages  him  to  put  on 
the  robe  of  God's  providing,  that  the  abashed  and 
t.embling  criminaJ  can  venture  back  into  God's 
presence.  — Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

3.  Dimness  of  spiritual  perception. 

(3860.)  When  a  man  of  taste  or  science  climbs  a 
mountain  on  a  bright,  transparent  day,  he  rejoices 
in  its  goodly  prospect  or  curious  spoiia  :  but  his 
dog  feels  no  interest  m  them.  He  sees  the  philo- 
sopher peering  through  his  telescope,  or  exploring 
for  the  little  plants  that  grow  near  the  summit,   or 


splintering  the  rocks  and  putiing  fragments  in  the 
bag  ;  but  it  never  occurs  to  the  spaniel  so  much, as 
to  marvel  what  his  master  is  finding  there.  He 
sits  yawning  and  jianting  on  a  sunny  knoll,  or  snaps 
at  the  mountain-bee  as  it  comes  sailing  past  him, 
or  chases  the  conies  back  into  their  holes,  and 
scampers  down,  with  noisy  glee,  as  soon  as  the 
hungry  sojourn  is  ended.  The  disparity  between 
the  philosopher  and  his  irrational  friend  is  hardly 
greater  than  it  is  between  the  believer  and  the 
worldling  when  you  bring  them  together  into  the 
domain  of  faith.  "The  natural  man  perceiveth 
not  tlie  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ; "  and  on  the 
Fisgah  of  the  same  revelaticm,  whence  the  believer 
describes  a  goodly  land,  and  where  he  is  making 
the  most  interesting  discoveries,  the  other  sees 
nothing  to  arrest  his  attention.  The  Word  of  God 
and  its  promises,  the  throne  of  grace  and  its  privi- 
leges, the  things  of  faith  in  all  their  varieties,  have 
no  existerice  to  worldly  men  ;  and  when  constrained 
to  l)ear  others  company  in  outward  ordinances, 
they  are  thankful  when  the  prayer  concluded,  or 
the  sanctuary  closing,  sends  them  back  to  the  world 
again.  But  just  as  the  same  lover  of  nature  might 
ascend  his  favouriie  eminence  on  a  subsequent  day, 
and  find  all  his  godly  prospects  intercepted  by  a 
baffling  mist,  so  dense  that,  except  a  pebble  here 
and  there,  he  can  alight  on  none  of  its  rare  produc- 
tions, and  without  any  opening  vista  by  wliich  he 
can  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  regions  around  ;  so 
the  believer  may  ascend  the  hill  of  God — he  may 
open  his  Bible  or  enter  his  closet — and  find,  alas  ! 
that  it  is  a  foggy  day,  the  beauteous  panorama  blotted 
out,  and  himself  left  to  grope  chilling  in  the  cold 
and  perplexing  gloom.  But  like  a  gale  of  summer 
wind,  upspringing  and  lifting  all  the  fog  from  the 
mountain-top,  the  breath  of  the  Omnipotent  Spirit 
can  scatter  every  cloud,  and  leave  the  soul  on  a 
pinnacle  of  widest  survey,  rejoicing  in  the  purest 
light  of  God.  — Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

4.  Inordinate  cares  and  affections. 

(3861.)  As  the  sea  that  the  wind  hath  lain  sore 
upon  is  yet  tossed  and  troubled  after  the  wind  is 
laid  and  the  tempest  gone  :  even  so  a  man's  mind, 
lately  come  out  of  the  business  and  cares  of  the 
world,  still  casteth  and  studieth  the  same  things, 
and  panteth  after  them,  and  cannot  after  this  come 
straight  to  itself,  and  so  meditate  on  and  exercise 
in  spiritual  matters.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(3862.)  Oh,  'tis  hard  to  converse  with  the  world 
all  day,  and  shake  it  off  at  night,  so  as  to  be  free 
to  enjoy  privacy  with  God.  The  world  does  by 
the  Christian,  as  the  little  child  by  the  mother  ;  if 
it  cannot  keep  the  mother  from  going  out,  then  it 
will  cry  after  her  to  go  with  her  ;  if  the  world  can- 
not keep  us  from  going  to  religious  duties,  then  it 
will  cry  to  be  taken  along  with  us,  and  much  ado 
to  part  it  and  the  affections. 

— Gurnall,  161 7- 1 679. 

(3863.)  The  smoke  and  sparks  that  rise  from  a 
furnace  are  carried  that  way  where  the  wind  lies  ; 
so  if  thy  heart  be  to  the  workl  thou  canst  not 
prevent  thy  thoughts  and  meditations  from  uriving 
thither.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  will  ])rayer 
ascend  like  a  pillar  of  incense  from  the  altar,  when 
there  is  a  holy  calmness  on  thy  spirit,  and  bois- 
terous winds  of  inordinate  cares  and  affections  to 
the  world  are  laid.  — Salter, 


PR  A  YER. 


(    654    ) 


PHA  YER. 


0.  Wandering  tliouglits. 

(3864.)  Many  vain  intruders  tease  me  most  at 
luch  seasons  as  I  most  desire  to  be  freed  from  them  ; 
they  follow  me  into  tlie  pulpit,  and  meet  me  at  the 
Lord's  table.  I  hope  I  do  not  love  them,  or  wish 
to  lodge  them  !  Often  in  my  prayers  some  idle 
fancy  buzzes  about  me,  and  makes  me  forget  where 
1  am,  and  what  1  am  doing.  I  compare  myself  to 
a  man  upon  his  knees  before  the  king,  pleading  for 
his  life,  or  returning  thanks  for  some  great  favour  ; 
in  the  midst  of  his  speech  he  sees  a  butterfly  ;  he 
immediately  breaks  ofi,  leaves  his  speech  unfinished, 
and  runs  away  to  catch  the  butterfly.  Such  a  man 
wouki  be  thought  mad  ;  and  my  vile  thoughts  prove 
that  1  am  not  free  from  spiritual  insanity. 

— Newton,  1725-1807. 

(3865.)  When  I  first  amused  myself  with  going 
out  to  sea,  when  the  winds  arose  and  the  waves 
became  a  little  rough,  I  found  a  difficulty  to  keep 
my  legs  on  the  deck,  but  I  tumbled  and  tossed 
about  like  a  porpoise  on  the  water  :  at  last  I  caught 
hold  of  a  rope  that  was  floating  about,  and  then 
1  w£.s  enabled  to  stand  upright.  So  when  in 
prayer  a  multitude  of  troublous  thoughts  invade 
your  pence,  or  when  the  winds  and  waves  of  tempta- 
tions arise,  look  out  for  the  rope,  lay  hold  of 
it,  and  stay  yourself  on  the  faithfulness  of  God  in 
His  covenant  with  His  people  and  in  His  promises. 
Hold  fast  by  that  rope,  and  you  shall  stand. 

— Newton,  1 725-1 807. 

XVIII.  IS  TO  BE  CONTINUALLY  MAIN- 
TAINED. 

1.  Even  when  a  devotional  spirit  Is  lacking:. 

(3866.)  If  your  hearts  be  cold,  prayer  is  a  more 
likely  means  to  warm  them  than  the  omission  of 
it.  'i"o  ask  whether  you  may  pray  while  your 
hearts  are  cold  and  backward,  is  to  ask  whether 
you  may  labour  or  come  to  the  fire  before  you  are 
warm.  God's  Spirit  is  more  likely  to  help  you  in 
duty  than  in  the  neglect  of  it. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

2.  Because  continual  prayer  keeps  us  In  the 
love  of  God. 

(3867.)  It  is  frequency  of  devotion  also  which 
mainiaineth  that  friendship  with  God,  which  is  the 
soul  of  piety.  As  familiar  conTCrsaiion  (wherem 
men  do  express  their  minds  and  aflectioiis  mutually) 
breedeth  acquaintance,  and  cherishelh  good-will  of 
men  to  one  another  ;  but  long  forbearance  thereof 
dissolveth  or  slackeneth  the  bonds  of  amity,  break- 
ing their  intimacy,  and  cooling  their  kindness  ;  so 
is  it  in  respect  to  God  ;  it  is  frequent  converse  with 
Him  which  begetteih  a  particular  acquaintance 
with  Him,  a  mindful  regard  of  Him,  a  hearty  liking 
to  Him,  a  deliglitful  taste  of  His  goodness,  and 
consequently  a  sincere  and  solid  good-will  toward 
Him  ;  but  intermission  thereof  produceth  estrange- 
ment or  enmity  toward  Him.  If  we  seldom  come 
at  God,  we  shall  little  know  Him,  not  much  care 
for  Him,  scarce  remember  Him,  rest  insensible  of 
His  love  and  regardless  of  His  favour  ;  a  coldness, 
a  shyness,  a  distaste,  an  antipathy  toward  Him 
will  by  degrees  creep  upon  us.  Abstinence  from  His 
company  and  presence  will  cast  us  into  conversa- 
tions destructive  or  prejudicial  to  our  friendship 
with  Him  ;  wherein  soon  we  shall  contract  famili- 
arity ana  friendship  with  His  enemies  (the  world  I 


and  the  flesh),  which  are  inconsistent  with  love  to 
Him,  which  will  dispose  us  to  forget  Him,  or  to 
dislike  and  loathe  Him.      — Barrow,  1630-1677. 

3.  Because  continual  prayer  1&  necessary  to  out 

stability. 

(3868.)  Prayers  are  the  bulwarks  of  piety  and 
good  conscience,  the  which  ought  to  be  placed  so 
as  to  flank  and  relieve  one  another,  together  with 
the  interjacent  spaces  of  our  life  ;  that  the  enemy 
(the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us)  may  not  come 
in  between,  or  at  any  time  assault  us,  without  a 
force  sufficiently  near  to  reach  and  repel  him. 

— Barrow,  1 630-1677. 

(3869.)  When  you  have  given  over  the  practice 
of  stated  prayer,  you  gradually  become  weaker  with- 
out knowing  it.  Samson  did  not  know  he  had  lost 
his  strength  till  the  Philistines  came  upon  him ; 
you  will  think  yourselves  the  men  you  used  to  be, 
till  suddenly  your  adversary  will  come  furiously 
upon  you,  and  you  will  as  suddenly  fall. 

— Newman, 

4.  Because  It  promotes  our  growth  In  grace. 

{3870.)  The  Christian  is  compared  to  a  tree 
(Ps.  i.).  And  those  trees  flourish  most  and  bear 
sweetest  fruit  which  stand  most  in  the  sun.  The 
praying  Christian  stands  nigh  to  God,  and  hath 
God  nigh  to  him  in  all  that  he  calls  upon  Him  for. 
And  therefore  you  may  expect  his  fruit  to  be  sweet 
and  ripe,  when  another  that  stands  as  it  were  in  the 
shade,  and  at  a  distance  from  God  (through  neglect 
of,  or  infrequency  in  this  duty)  will  have  little  fruit 
found  on  his  branches,  and  that  but  green  and 
sour.  "  Those  that  be  planted  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord,  shall  flourish  in  tiie  courts  of  our  God  :  they 
iihall  bring  forth  fruit  in  old  .nge  ;  they  shall  be  fat 
and  flourishing."  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3871.)  In  their  steadfastness  in  prayer  (.Acts  ii. 
42),  they  set  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow 
their  steps.  Who  does  not  know  that  to  grow  the 
same  fruit  as  others — crops  as  fine  in  quality  and 
abundant  in  quantity, — we  must  apply  the  same 
culture  to  ground  or  tree?  I  have  seen,  for  ex- 
ample, two  plants  growing  under  llie  glass  of  the 
same  conservatory  ;  and  while  the  one  showed  a 
mass  of  flowers  that  dazzled  the  eye  with  their 
beauty,  and  filled  the  whole  iiouse  with  their  per- 
fume, the  other,  fruitless  and  fluwerless,  hung  its 
drooping  leaves,  and  seemed  pining  into  death, 
under  a  deep  decline.  Both  stood  in  the  same 
soil  ;  enjoyed  an  equal  temperature  ;  and  had  been 
taken  from  one  common  parent  stem.  Whefice 
the  difference  ?  The  cause  of  that  was  neither  ob- 
scure nor  remote — this  had  been  often,  but  that, 
neglected,  had  been  seldom  watered.  Now,  what 
water  is  to  thirsty  plants,  prayer  is  to  the  graces  of 
a  man  or  a  church.  Uo  we  admire,  wonder,  and 
sometimes,  indeed,  stand  astonished  at  the  love 
which  animated,  and  the  fruitfulness  which  dis- 
tinguished, these  first  Christians  ?  The  riddle  is 
read,  the  mystery  solved,  in  these  words  :  "They 
continued  steadfast  in  prayer."  — GuthrU. 

6.  Tbe  fitness  and  Importance  of  dally  prayer. 

(3872.)  Do  not  any  day,  upon  any  pretence, 
omit  to  oflfer  up  thy  morning  and  evening  sacrifices. 
Remember,  so  often  as  thou  neglectest  morning 
prayer,  so  often  thou  art  all  the  day  naked,  desli- 


I 


PR  A  YER. 


(    65s     ) 


PR  A  YER, 


tute  of  thy  spiritual  guard,  and  exposed  to  all  man- 
ner of  evils  and  enemies,  and  dost  forespeak  thyself 
an  evil  day  ;  and  so  often  as  thou  omittest  evening 
prayer  thou  presumest  upon  sleep,  and  rest,  and 
safety,  without  God's  leave,  and  forespeakest  thy- 
self nn  evil  night.  What  did  Thomas  lose  by  one 
omission !  Jesus  appeared  the  first  day  of  the 
week  to  His  disciple'^,  "  but  Thomas,"  saiih  the 
text,  "  was  not  there."  Rut  what  is  the  issue  of  this 
omission  ?  Truly,  by  his  neglecting  this  opportunity 
of  confirming  his  faith,  he  falls  into  a  desperate  fit 
of  unbelief.  When  the  apostles  told  him  that  they 
had  seen  the  Lord,  he  presently  answers,  "  Except 
I  shall  see  in  His  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  and 
put  my  finger  into  the  print  of  the  nnils,  and  thrust 
my  hand  into  His  side,  I  will  not  believe."  Ah, 
what  had  become  of  Thomas  if  Infinite  Majesty  had 
not  stooped  to  recover  him?    — Swinnock,  1673. 

(3873.)  He  that  closeth  his  eyes  at  night  without 

firayer,  lies  down  before  his  bed  is  made.  He  is 
ike  a  foolish  captain  in  a  garrison,  who  betakes 
himself  to  his  rest,  before  he  hath  set  the  watch  for 
the  city's  safeguard.  God  is  His  jieople's  keeper: 
but  can  he  expect  to  be  kept  by  Him  that  chargeth 
no'  the  Divine  Provitience  with  his  keeping?  The 
angels,  at  His  command,  pitch  their  tents  about 
His  saints'  dwellings.  But  as  the  drum  calls  the 
watch  togeth.er,  so  God  looks  that  by  humble 
prayer  we  should  beg  of  Him  their  ministry  and 
attendance  about  us.  — Gurnall,  161 7- 1679. 

■3874.)  It  is  related  of  a  hero  in  Scottish  history, 
that,  when  an  overwhelming  force  was  in  full  pur- 
suit, and  all  his  followers  were  urging  him  to  more 
rapid  flight,  he  coolly  dismounted,  in  order  to  re- 
pair a  flaw  in  his  horse's  harness.  Whilst  busied 
with  the  broken  buckle,  the  distant  cloud  swept 
down  in  nearer  thunder,  but  just  as  the  piancing 
hoofs  and  eager  spears  were  ready  to  dash  down  on 
him,  the  flaw  was  mended,  the  clasp  was  fastened, 
the  steed  was  mounted,  and  like  a  sweeping  falcon, 
he  vanished  from  their  view.  The  broken  buckle 
would  have  left  him  in  the  field  an  inglorious  pri- 
soner, the  timely  delay  sent  him  in  safety  to  his 
huzzaing  comrades.  'I  here  is  in  daily  life  the  same 
luckless  precipitancy,  and  the  same  profitable  delay. 
The  man  who,  from  his  prayerless  waking,  bounces 
off  into  the  business  of  the  day,  however  good  his 
talents  and  great  his  diligence,  is  only  galloping  on 
a  steed  harnessed  with  a  bioken  buckle,  and  must 
not  be  astonished  if,  in  his  hottest  haste,  his  most 
hazardous  leap,  he  be  left  inglorious  in  the  dust. 
— J/aiiiilton,  1814-1867. 

(3875.)  It  is  as  impo-^sible  for  the  soul  to  live 
and  thrive  without  daily  pra\er,  as  for  the  body  to 
live  and  thrive  without  <iaily  food.  Our  graces  are 
like  plants  that  need  daily  watering  ;  watches  that 
need  daily  winding  ;  lamps  that  need  daily  filling  ; 
bodies  that  need  daily  feeding.  It  is  as  necessary 
for  the  graces  of  the  inner,  as  for  the  strength,  and 
health,  and  life  of  the  outward  man  that  we  should 
wait  on  (iod  to  say,  "Give  me  day  by  day  my 
daily  bread."  — Guthrie. 

(3876.)  A  good  day  begins  with  God.  A  wise 
merchant  would  no  more  think  of  going  to  business 
without  communion  with  Christ,  than  of  going  to 
the  store  without  coat,  or  hat,  or  shoes.  I  used  to 
have  a  very  poor  watch,  and  I  had  to  set  it  every 
morning  in  order  that  I  might  make  from  it  a  guess 


about  the  time  of  day.  Our  souls  are  poor  time 
pieces,  utterly  disordered  ;  and  every  morning  we 
need  to  set  them  by  the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 
Before  we  start  off  to  the  store  we  need  to  pray  fox 
patience.  We  will  be  harassed  and  perplexed. 
Men  will  wrong  us,  and  impose  upon  us,  and  cheat 
us  ;  and  before  the  day  is  past,  if  you  have  not  laid 
in  a  large  supply  of  patience,  you  will  half  sweat 
with  your  lips,  and  perhaps  make  a  whole  swear 
with  your  hearts.  — 7 almage. 

6.  Because  of  tbe  baseness  of  seeking  God  In 
adversity  only. 

(3877.)  Pray  in  prosperity,  that  thou  mayest 
speed  when  thou  prayest  in  adversity  ;  own  God 
now,  that  He  may  acknowledge  thee  then.  Shall 
that  friend  be  welcome  to  us,  that  never  gives  us  a 
visit,  but  when  he  comes  to  borrow  ?  This  is  a 
right  beggar's  trick,  but  not  a  friend's  part. 

— Gurnall,  161 7- 1679. 

(3878.)  The  shark  is  said  to  have  been  the  god 
that  the  Sandwich  Islanders,  in  their  savage  state, 
chiefly  worshipped,  or  sought  to  ]iropitiate.  In 
their  present  semi-civilised,  semi-Chrislianised  con- 
dition, it  is  said,  they  pray,  and  sing,  and  moralise, 
in  fair  weather ;  but  when  they  get  into  trouble 
they  call  upon  the  shark-god  of  their  fathers  for 
help  or  deliverance.  — A.  P.  Kussell. 

(3879.)  There  are  others  who  pray  only  in  emer- 
gency ;  who  pray  only  in  ciicumstances  of  great 
affliction  or  peril  ;  who  first  become  prayerful  in 
sickness  or  sorrow  ;  who  learn  the  way  of  prayer 
when  under  persecutions ;  who,  when  they  find 
that  there  is  no  more  help  to  be  received  from  men, 
fall  back  upon  God.  It  is  very  sad  that  men  should 
pray  only  on  such  rare  occasions  as  these.  It  is 
very  blessed  that  they  should  be  willing  to  pray 
then  ;  that  is  better  than  nothing  ;  but  ah  !  how 
poor  is  prayer  where  men  are  driven  to  it  by  the 
whip,  and  where  they  resort  to  it  only  when  they 
feel  the  lash  of  trouble  and  affliction  on  their  back. 
What  would  you  think  of  a  son  that  never  went 
home  to  his  father  except  when  he  was  in  debt,  and 
had  the  sheriff  at  his  heels,  and  wanted  helj)  ;  and 
that,  the  moment  he  obtained  the  relief  which  he 
sought,  forgot  that  father  again,  and  cared  nothing 
for  him  ?  It  is  better  to  go  to  God  m  prayer  when 
troubles  assail  us  than  not  to  go  to  Him  at  all,  yet, 
if  we  only  go  to  Him  then,  our  prayer  comes  far 
short  of  that  which  we  owe,  as  children,  to  out 
Heavenly  Father.  — Bcecher. 

XIX.  ENCOURAGEMENT  FOR  DESPOND- 
ING SUPPLIANTS. 

(38S0. )  Suppose  the  dearest  son  of  the  most 
loving  father  to  lie  grievously  sick,  and  out  of  the 
extremity  of  anguish  to  cry  out  and  complain  to 
him  that  he  is  so  full  of  pain  in  every  part  that 
he  knows  not  which  way  to  turn  himself,  or  what 
to  do  ;  and  thereujion  entreats  him  by  the  love  he 
bears  him  to  touch  him  tenderly,  to  lay  him  softly, 
to  mollify  all  he  may  his  painful  misery,  and  give 
him  ease.  How  ready,  think  you,  would  such  a 
father  be  with  all  tenderness  and  care  to  give  his 
helping  hand  in  such  a  rueful  case  1  But  yet  if  he 
should  grow  sicker  and  weaker,  so  that  he  could 
not  speak  at  all,  but  only  look  his  father  in  the 
face  with  watery  eyes,  and  moan  himself  unto  him, 
with  sighs  and  groans,  and  other  dumb  expressions 


PR  A  YER. 


(   656   ; 


PRA  YER. 


of  Ills  increased  pain  and  desirt  to  speak,  would 
not  this  strike  yet  deeper  into  tlie  father's  tender 
heart,  pierce  and  melt  with  more  feeling  pangs  of 
compassion,  and  make  his  bowels  yeain  within 
him  with  an  addition  of  extraordinary  solicitude  to 
do  him  good  ?  Even  just  so  will  thy  Heavenly 
Father  be  affected  and  deal  with  thee,  in  hearing, 
helping,  and  showing  mercy,  when  all  thy  strength 
of  prayer  is  gone,  but  only  groans  and  sighs.  Nay, 
with  incomparably  more  affectionateness  :  for,  look 
how  far  God  is  higher  than  man  in  majesty  and 
greatness,  which  is  by  an  infinite  distance  and  dis- 
proportion, so  far  does  He  pass  him  in  tender- 
heartedness and  love.   (See  Isa.  Iv.  8,  9.) 

— Bolton,  1572-1631. 

{3881.)  Haply  thou  shall  never  have  an  ability  with 
a  flow  of  words  to  express  thyself  as  some  others  ; 
but  let  not  that  discourage  thee.  God  looks  not  at 
the  pomp  of  words  and  variety  of  expressions,  but 
sinceriiy  and  devotion  of  the  heart.  The  key  opens 
not  the  door  because  gilt,  but  because  fitted  to  the 
wards  of  the  lock.  Let  but  the  matter  of  thy 
prayer  be  according  to  God's  mind,  holy  and 
warrantable,  and  the  temper  of  thy  heart  humble 
and  fervent,  and  no  fear  but  thou  shalt  speed.  Yea, 
lei  the  prayer  be  old,  pray  to-day  what  thou  did>t 
yesterday,  be  but  sure  to  bring  new  affections  with 
thy  old  prayer,  and  thou  shalt  be  friendly  received 
into  God's  presence,  tliough  thou  canst  not  on  a 
sudden  put  thy  requests  into  a  new  shape.  God 
will  not  shut  His  child  out  of  doors,  because  he 
comes  not  eveiT  day  in  a  new-fa-hioned  suit. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3882.)  "I  fear,"  saith  the  poor  soul,  "  I  am  an 
hypocrite,  because  I  have  such  a  divided  heart  in 
the  duties  I  perform.  1  cannot  for  my  life  enjoy  any 
privacy  with  God  in  duty,  but  some  base  lust  will 
be  crowding  into  my  thoughts  when  I  am  at  prayer, 
hearing  of  the  Word,  or  meditating  ;  now  I  am  lift 
up  with  a  self-applauding  thought,  anon  cast  down 
to  the  earth  witli  a  worldly  thought  ;  what  with 
one  and  another,  little  respite  have  I  from  such  com- 
pany." 

Answer.  Woe  were  it  to  the  best  of  saints,  if  the 
mere  rising  and  stirring  of  such  thoughts  as  these 
(or  worse  than  these)  did  prove  the  heart  unsound. 
Take  heed  thou  concludest  not  thy  state  therefore 
from  the  presence  of  these  in  thee,  but  from  the 
comportment  and  behaviour  of  thy  heart  towards 
them.  Answer,  therefore,  to  these  few  interroga- 
tories, and  possibly  thou  mayest  see  thy  sincerity 
through  the  mist  these  have  raised  in  the  soul. 

Fir^t,  what  friendly  welcome  have  such  thoughts 
with  thee,  when  they  present  themselves  to  thee 
in  duty?  Are  these  the  guests  thou  hast  expected, 
and  trimmed  thy  room  for?  Uidst  go  to  duty  to 
meet  those  friends,  or  do  they  unmannerly  break  in 
upon  thee,  and  forcibly  carry  thee  (as  Christ  fore- 
told of  Peter  in  another  case)  whither  thou  wouldst 
not?  If  so,  why  shouldst  thou  bring  thy  sincerity 
into  dispute?  Dost  thou  not  know  the  devil  isa 
bold  intruder,  and  dares  come  where  he  knows 
tliere  is  none  will  bid  him  sit  down,  and  that  soul 
alone  he  can  call  his  own  house,  where  he  finds 
rest?  (Luke  xii.  24).  Suppose  in  your  family,  as 
you  aie  kneeling  down  to  prayer,  a  company  of 
roysters  should  stand  under  your  window,  and  all 
the  while  you  are  praying,  they  would  be  roaring 
imd    hollowing,   this    co\dd    not   but  much   disturb 


you  ;  but  would  you,  from  the  disturbance  they 
make,  fall  to  question  your  sincerity  in  the  duty  ? 
Truly  'tis  all  one,  whether  the  disturbance  be  in 
the  room  or  in  the  bosom,  so  the  soul  likes  the 
one  no  more  than  he  doth  the  other. 

Secondly,-  Dost  thou  sit  contented  with  this  com» 
pany,  or  use  all  the  means  thou  canst  to  get  rid  0/ 
them,  as  soon  as  may  be?  Sincerity  cannot  sit 
still  to  see  such  doings  in  the  soul,  but  as  a  faith- 
ful servant,  when  thieves  break  into  his  master's 
house,  though  overpowered  with  their  strength  and 
multitude  that  he  cannot  with  his  own  hands 
thru>t  them  out  of  doors,  yet  he  will  send  out 
secretly  for  help,  and  raise  the  town  upon  them  ; 
prayer  is  the  sincere  soul's  messenger,  it  posts  to 
heaven  with  full  speed  in  this  case,  counting  itself 
to  be  no  other  than  in  the  belly  of  hell  with  Jonah, 
while  it  is  yoked  with  such  thouglits,  and  as  glad 
when  aid  comes  to  rescue  him  out  of  their  hands, 
as  Lot  was  when  Abraham  recovered  him  from  the 
kings  that  had  carried  him  away  prisoner. 

— Gnrnall,  1617-1679, 

XX.     ANSWERS  TO  PRAYER, 

1.  How  numerous  they  are. 

(38S3.)  Answered  prayers  cover  the  field  of 
providential  history  as  flowers  cover  Western 
prairies.  — Cuylcr, 

2.  Every  true  prayer  Is  certain  to  be  ans-vrered. 

(3884.)  When  the  season  has  been  cold  and 
backward,  when  rains  fell  and  prices  rose,  and, 
farmers  desponded  and  the  poor  despaired,  I  havQ 
heard  old  people,  whose  hopes,  resting  on  God's 
promise,  did  not  rise  and  fall  with  the  barometer, 
nor  shifting  winds,  say.  We  shall  have  harvest  after 
all  ;  and  this  you  can  safely  say  of  the  labours 
and  fruits  of  prayer.  The  answer  may  be  long  in 
coming — years  may  elapse  before  the  bread  we  have 
cast  on  the  waters  comes  back  ;  but  if  the  vision 
tarry,  wait  for  it  !  Why  not  ?  We  know  that  some 
seeds  spring  as  soon  ahnost  as  they  are  committed 
to  the  ground  ;  but  others  lie  buried  for  months  ; 
nor,  in  some  cases,  is  it  till  years  elapse  that  they 
germinate  and  rise,  to  teach  us  that  what  is 
dormant  is  not  dead.  Such  it  may  be  with  our 
prayeis.  Ere  that  immortal  seed  has  sprung,  the 
haml  that  planted  it  may  be  mouldering  in  the  duit 
— the  seal  of  death  on  the  lips  that  prayed.  But 
though  you  are  not  spared  to  reap  the  harvest, 
your  prayers  are  not  lost.  They  bide  their  time, 
God's  "set  time."  For  in  one  form  or  another,  in 
this  world  or  in  the  next,  who  sows  in  tears  shall 
reap  in  joy.  The  God  who  puts  His  people's  tears 
into  His  bottle  will  certainly  never  forget  their 
prayers.  —  Guthrie. 

(3SS5.)  I  can  stand  in  the  rooms  of  my  office  in 
New  York,  and  communicate  with  the  men  in  the 
fifth  story.  It  I  want  to  speak  to  the  foreman  of 
the  printing-office,  I  go  and  blow  the  whistle,  and 
talk  through  the  tube.  And  I  know  that  the  mes- 
sage has  got  up  there,  and  that  he  heard  it.  I  do 
not  see  him,  and  he  does  not  answer  me  back  ;  but 
I  have  no  doubt  that,  having  received  the  message, 
he  will  attend  to  my  wants.  I  say,  for  instance, 
"  Send  rne  down  the  proof  of  such  and  such  an 
article,"  and  by  and  by  he  sends  it  down  to  me. 
So,  it  seems  to  me  that  sometimes  we  speak  to 
God  in    heaven,    as  it  were    through  an  invisible 


PRA  YER, 


(     657     ) 


PRA  YER. 


medium.  He  does  not  answer  immediately  ;  but, 
nevertneiess,  we  know  tliat  lie  is  there,  and  that 
even  if  we  do  not  conceive  of  Him,  He  conceives 
of  us  ;  and  we  send  our  thought  or  prayer  up,  and 
let  it  alone,  and  do  not  fret  or  worry  about  it. 

— Beecher. 

(38S6.)  Answering  does  not  always  stand  next 
door  to  petition.  Prayers,  however,  are  never  for- 
gotten wlien  they  go  up  before  the  faitliful  One. 
Why,  long  after  we  have  forgotten  them,  God 
remembers  them.  For  prayers  are  seeils,  many  of 
them  ;  and  as  air-plants  root  themselves  up  in  trees, 
and  then  grow  by  reaciiing  down  toward  the  earth, 
»o  prayers,  methinks,  root  themselves  up  in  heaven, 
tnd  then  grow  down  toward  us.  They  sometimes 
have  a  long  growth  before  they  reach  us  and 
blossom,  but  they  do  it  sooner  or  later. 

— Beecker. 

8.  Should  be  diligently  looked  for. 

(3SS7.)  To  pray  and  not  watch  what  becomes  of 
our  prayer  is  a  great  folly,  and  no  little  sin  ;  like 
fhildreii  that  throw  stones  into  a  river,  which  they 
aever  look  to  see  more.  What  is  this  but  to  take 
Ihe  name  of  God  in  vain,  and  play  with  an  ordi- 
nance that  is  holy  and  sacred  ?  Yet  tlius,  alas,  do 
many  knock  at  God's  door  (as  idle  children  at  ours), 
and  ihen  run  away  to  tiie  world  (as  they  to  their 
play)  and  think  no  more  of  their  prayers. 

— Gurnall,  1 617-1679. 

(38SS.)  If,  when  thou  hast  sent  up  thy  prayer, 
thou  canst  cast  off  the  care  and  tlioughts  of  the 
business,  as  if  praying  were  only  like  children 
scribbling  over  pieces  of  paper,  wliich,  when  they 
have  done,  they  lay  aside  and  think  no  more  of 
them  ;  if  thou  canst  take  denials  at  God's  hands 
for  such  things  as  these,  and  blank  no  more  than  a 
zold  suitor  doth,  when  he  hears  not  from  her  whom 
he  never  really  loved, — il  it  breaks  not  thy  rest,  im- 
bitters  aDt  thy  joy,  a  false  heart  set  thee  on  work. 

—  Gurnall,  161 7- 1679. 

(3889.)  WHien  thou  hast  been  with  God,  expect 
good  from  God.  "  I  will  direct  my  prayer  to  Tliee, 
ind  will  look  up."  Yo\  want  of  this,  many  a 
prayer  is  lost.  If  you  do  not  believe,  why  do  you 
pray?  And  if  you  believe,  why  do  you  not  expect  ? 
by  praying  you  seem  to  depend  on  God  ;  l>y  not 
expecting,  you  again  renounce  your  confulence,  and 
ravel  out  your  prayer.  What  is  this,  but  to  take 
His  name  in  vain,  and  to  play  bo-peep  with  God? 
As  il  one  that  knocks  at  your  door  should,  before 
you  can  come  to  open  it  to  him,  go  away,  and  not 
stay  to  be  spoken  with.  Oh  Christians,  stand  to 
your  prayer  in  a  holy  expectation  of  w  hat  you  have 
begged,  upon  the  ciedit  of  the  promise,  and  you 
cannot  miss  of  the  ruin  of  your  lusts. 

—  Gurnall,  16 17- 1679. 

(3890.)  People  say  "  What  a  wonderful  thing  it 
is  that  God  hears  George  Miiller's  prayers!"  But 
is  it  not  a  sad  thing  that  we  should  think  it  wonder- 
ful for  God  to  hear  prayer?  We  are  come  to  a 
pretty  pass  certainly  wlien  we  think  it  wonderful 
that  God  is  true  I  Aiuch  better  faith  was  that  of  a 
little  boy  in  one  of  the  schools  at  Edinburgh,  who 
had  attended  the  prayer  meetings,  and  at  last  said 
to  hi.^  tt-acher  who  conducted  tlie  prayer  meeting, 
"  Teacher,  I  wish  my  sister  could  be  got  to  read 
the  Bible;  she  never  reads  it."  "Why,  Johnny, 
should  your  sister  read  t^e  Bible?"     "Because  if  | 


she  should  once  read  it,  I  am  sure  it  would  do  h« 
good,  and  she  would  be  converted  and  be  saved." 
"  Do  you  think  so,  Johnny?"  "Yes,  I  do,  sir, 
and  I  wish  the  next  time  there's  a  prayer  meeting 
you  would  ask  the  people  to  pray  for  my  sister, 
that  she  may  begin  to  read  the  Bible."  "  Well, 
well,  it  shall  be  done,  John."  So  the  teacher  gave 
out  that  a  little  boy  was  very  anxious  that  prayers 
should  be  offered  that  his  sister  might  begin  to  read 
the  Bible.  John  was  observed  to  get  up  and  go 
out.  The  teacher  thought  it  very  unkind  of  the 
boy  to  disturb  the  people  in  a  crowded  room  and 
go  out  like  that,  and  so  the  next  day  when  the  lad 
came,  he  sai.i,  "John,  I  thought  that  was  very  rude 
of  you  to  get  up  in  the  prayer  meeting  and  go  out. 
You  ought  not  to  have  done  it."  "Oh  !  sir,"  said 
the  boy,  "  I  did  not  mean  to  be  rude,  but  I  thought 
I  should  just  like  to  go  home  and  see  my  sister 
reading  her  Bible  for  the  first  time."  That  is  how 
we  ought  to  believe,  and  wait  with  expectation  to 
see  the  answer  to  prayer.  The  girl  was  reading 
the  Bible  when  the  boy  went  home.  G^d  had 
been  pleased  to  hear  the  prayer  ;  and  if  we  could 
but  trust  God  after  that  fashion  we  should  often  see 
similar  things  accomplished.  — Spurgeon. 

(3891.)  In  a  time  of  great  drought  in  Scotland, 
Dr.  Guthrie  had  in  his  Sabbath  morning  service 
prayed  for  rain.  As  they  went  to  church  in  the 
afternoon,  little  Mary,  his  daughter,  saxl  :  "  Here 
is  the  umbrella,  papa,"  "What  lio  we  need  it  for  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  You  prayed  for  rain  this  morning,  and 
don't  you  expect  God  will  send  it?"  They  carried 
the  umbrella,  and  when  they  came  home  they  were 
glad  to  take  shelter  under  it  from  the  drenching 
storm. 

(3S92.)  A  poor  widow  had  four  little  children, 
the  eldest  about  eight  years  old.  One  evening,  in 
the  midst  of  winter,  her  children  were  hungry,  and 
she  had  no  food  to  give  them.  But  she  kneeled 
down  to  tell  God  of  their  wants,  and  ask  Him  to 
supply  them.  At  the  close  of  her  prayer,  the 
eldest  said  to  her:  "Mother,  doesn't  the  Bible  say 
that  God  once  sent  some  ravens  with  bread  to  a 
man  who  was  hungry  ?  Don't  you  think  God  can 
send  us  some  ravens  with  bread  now,  just  as  well 
as  He  did  then?  I'm  going  10  open  the  door,  or 
they  can't  get  in."  A  few  minutes  after,  the  village 
magistrate  passed,  and  glancing  through  the  open 
door  said  :  "My  good  Iriend,  how  does  it  happen 
that  your  door  is  standing  ojien  this  cold  winter's 
night?"  "It  is  my  little  boy  who  opened  the 
door  a  moment  ago,  in  order,  as  he  said,  '  that  the 
ravens  might  come  in  and  bring  us  some  bread.'" 
Now,  it  so  happ-ned  that  this  gentleman  was 
actually  dressed  in  black  from  head  to  foot. 

"Ah!  indeed,"  said  he,  laughing;  "Richard  is 
right.  The  raven  is  come,'  and  he  is  a  pretty  big 
one,  too.  Come  with  me,  my  little  man,  and  1  wdl 
show  you  where  the  bread  is." 

4.  Should  be  perseveringly  sought. 

(3893  )  When  we  pray,  but  receive  no  ansxrer, 
and  putting  our  ear  to  the  door  where  we  iiave 
been  knocking,  as  if  the  house  were  untenanted, 
we  catch  no  approaching  footstej),  nor  sound,  nor 
sign  of  any  one  being  within,  what  are  vse  to  do? 
To  cease  praying  ?  Cease  praying  !  By  no  means. 
No  more  than  I  would  cease  swimming  for  dear 
life  when  the  cruel  wave  had  plucked  my  hands 

2    T 


PR  A  YER, 


(    6ij8    ) 


PRA  YER. 


from  the  rock,  or,  after  my  feet  had  touched  the 
blessed  sands,  bore  me  back  again  and  out  to  sea. 
1  am  to  knock  and  listen  ;  to  stand  and  wait  ;  and, 
importunate  as  the  widow,  take  no  rest  and  give 
God  none,  till  the  door  is  opened.  Uo  this,  for 
what  His  word  teaches  you  is  agreeable  to  His 
will,  and  if  the  answer  does  not  come  when  you 
are  living,  you  shali  get  it  when  you  are  dead.  In 
]>rayers,  or  curses,  men  sow  what  afterward  grows 
above  their  graves.  It  is  eighteen  hundred  years 
since  Jesus  prayed,  "I  will  that  those  whom  Thou 
hast  given  Me  be  with  Me  where  I  am,"  and  that 
prayer  is  answered  in  every  chamber  from  which  a 
dying  saint  takes  his  fligiit  to  glory.  It  is  eighteen 
bundled  years  since  they  cried,  "His  blooti  be  on 
us  and  on  our  children  ;"  and  God  is  answering 
that  curse  now  in  a  people  scattered,  and  peeled  ; 
a  hissing ;  a  byword ;  and  a  proverb  in  ail  the 
earth. 

Let  faith  and  hope  hold  up  the  arms  of  prayer, 
till,  paralysed  by  death,  they  drop  powerless  at 
your  side.  Many  a  pious  parent  has  wrestled  with 
God  for  an  ungodly  son  ;  nor  got  his  answer  till  he 
had  left  the  earth  and  been  years  in  heaven.  One 
day  its  door  is  thrown  open.  He  looks  round  to 
see  who  comes  in — there  is  his  son  1  The  lather 
leaves  his  throne  to  rusli  into  his  arms ;  they 
embrace;  and  Jesus,  seeing  of  the  travail  of  His 
soul,  and  rejoicing  over  this  trophy  of  His  cross, 
hears  in  heaven  that  outburst  of  paternal  joy,  "My 
son  that  was  dead  is  alive  again,  that  was  lost  is 
found."  — Guthrie. 

5.  Are  to  be  patiently  waited  for. 

(3894.)  Yea,  but  we  have  waited  a  long  time. 
Well,  but  yet  know  that  you  are  at  the  right  door. 
Suppose  a  man  to  be  knocking  at  a  door,  and  he 
has  knocked  a  great  while  and  nobody  comes,  he 
begins  to  think  it  is  not  the  right  door,  but  some- 
budy  tells  him  that  it  is,  and  thereon  he  stays  :  so 
we  may  assure  our  hearts  thus  much,  we  are  at  the 
right  door  certainly,  and  let  us  not  think  to  go 
away,  we  shall  find  somebody  within,  God  will 
appear  at  length.  What !  shall  we  lose  all  for 
want  of  waiting  a  little  while  longer? 

— Bunougks,  1 599- 1 646. 

6.  Are  frequently  delayed. 

(3895-)  I^e  hath  engaged  to  answer  the  prayers 
of  His  people,  and  "  lultil  the  desires  of  those  that 
fear  Hiin."  But  it  jiroves  a  long  voyage  some- 
time-; before  the  praying  saint  hath  the  return  of 
his  adventure.  There  comes  oft  a  long  and  sharp 
winter  between  the  sowing-lime  of  prayer,  and  the 
reaping.  He  hears  us  indeed  as  soon  as  we  pray, 
but  we  oft  do  not  liear  of  llini  so  soon.  Prayers 
are  not  long  on  their  journey  to  heaven,  but  long 
a  coming  thence  in  a  full  answer.  Christ  at  this 
day  in  heaven  hath  not  a  full  answer  to  some  of 
those  payers  which  He  put  up  on  earth:  there- 
fore He  is  said  to  expect  till  His  enemies  be  made 
His  footstool.  — Curnall,  1617-1679. 

(3896.)  Learn  to  distinguish  betwixt  God's  hear- 
ing and  His  answering  the  saint's  prayer.  Every 
laithful  prayer  is  heaid,  and  makes  an  acceptable 
report  in  God's  ear  as  soon  as  it  is  shot  ;  but  God 
doth  not  always  thus  speedily  answer  it.  The 
fa.ther  at  the  reading  of  his  son's  letter  (which 
comes  haply  on  some  begging  errand)  likes  the 
motion,  his  heart  closeth  with  it,    an. I  a  grant  is 


there  passed  ;  but  takes  his  own  time  to  send  his 
despatch,  and  let  his  son  know  this.  Princes  have 
their  books  of  remembrance,  wherem  they  write 
the  names  of  their  favourites  whom  they  intend  to 
prefer,  haply  some  years  before  their  gracious  pur- 
pose opens  itself  to  them.  Monlccai's  name  stood 
in  Ahasuerus'  book  some  while  before  his  honour 
was  conferred.  Thus  God  records  the  name  of  His 
saints  and  their  prayers.  "The  Lord  hearkened 
and  heard  it,  and  a  book  of  remembrance  was 
written  before  Him,  of  them  that  feared  the  Lord 
and  thought  upon  His  name."  But  they  hear  not  of 
God  in  His  providential  answer  haply  a  long  time 
after.  Abraham  prays  for  a  child,  and  is  heard, 
but  how  many  years  interpose  before  he  hath  him 
in  his  arms?  — Gumall,  1617-1679. 

7.  Why  God  sometimes  delays  to  answer  prayer. 

(3897.)  When  God  is  slow  in  giving  He  only 
sets  off  His  own  gifts  to  advantage.  He  does  not 
withhold  them.  Blessings  long  desired  are  sweeter 
when  they  come  ;  if  soon  given,  they  lose  much  of 
their  value.  God  resaves  for  you  that  which  He 
is  slow  to  give  you,  that  you  may  learn  to  enter- 
tain a  supreme  desire  and  longing  after  it. 

—Atigustitie,  353-429. 

(3898.)  P:ayers  which  are  not  answered  at  once, 
nor,  perhaps,  for  a  long  time  afterwards,  may 
nevertheless  be  accepted.  Were  He  to  speak, 
Christ's  reply  to  a  mother,  earnest  and  urgent  for  a 
son's  conversion,  might  be  such  as  He  gave  His 
own  mother  at  the  marriage  at  Cana,  "  Woman, 
Mine  hour  is  not  yet  come  !  "  Now,  God's  people  are 
apt  to  forget  this  ;  and  that  it  is  with  prayer,  to 
borrow  an  illustration  from  commercial  transactions, 
as  with  a  bill,  which,  though  accepted,  is  often  not 
paid  till  months  or  years  elapse.  Our  Heavenly 
Father  knows  best  what  to  give  ;  and  also  how, 
and  where,  and  when  to  give.  Were  its  answer 
always  to  follow  prayer,  as  the  peal  roars  upon  the 
flash,  I  suspect  that  we  would  be  as  ready  in 
spiritual  as  we  are  in  earthly  matters  to  look  only 
to  secondary  causes,  and  forget  God's  hand — coming 
to  look  on  our  prayers  as  being  the  cause  of  the 
answer,  as  much  as  we  are  in  the  habit  of  regard* 
iiig  the  flash  of  lightning,  without  any  reference  to 
God,  as  the  cause  of  the  peal  of  thunder. 

— Guthrie, 

8.  Why  sorae  prayers  are  not  answered. 

{3S99)  It  is  pure  mercy  that  negatives  a  par- 
ticular request.  A  miser  would  pray  very  earnestly  for 
gold,  if  he  believed  prayer  would  gain  it  ;  whereas, 
if  Christ  iiatl  any  favour  to  him.  He  would  take 
his  gold  away.  A  child  walks  in  the  garden  in 
spring,  and  sees  cherries  ;  he  knows  they  are  good 
fruit,  and  therefore  asks  for  them.  "No,  my  dear," 
says  the  father,  "they  are  not  yet  ripe:  stay  till 
the  season."  — A'ewton,  1 725-1807. 

9.  Recorded  answers  to  prayer. 

(3900  )  A  poor  Christian  woman  in  Buckingham- 
shire—  I  believe  near  lierkhampstead  —  was  bereaved 
of  her  husband  after  a  long  illness,  and  left  unpro- 
vided for,  the  only  thing  of  value  being  a  large 
chest  of  tools.  The  husband  had  only  just  been 
buried,  when  a  neighbour,  bearing  no  good  charac- 
ter, called  on  the  vsidow,  and  presented  a  bill  for 
work  done  altogether  beyond  the  widow's  power 
to  pay.     The  work,   which  had  been  dene  in  th« 


PR  A  YER. 


C    659    ) 


PROFESSION. 


husband's  lifetime,  was  paid  for  by  him,  and  the 
bill  receioted,  of  which  the  widow  had  a  distinct 
recollect '.or»  It  availed  not  for  her  to  assert  the 
fact  The  payment  of  the  bill  was  pressed  again, 
and  longing  eyes  cast  at  the  chest  of  tools.  In 
prett  distress,  the  widow  retired  upstairs  to  pray, 
for  all  effort  to  find  the  receipted  bill  was  vain. 
While  eni^aged  in  prayer,  a  butterfly  flew  in  at  the 
open  window  downstairs.  The  widovv's  little  child 
chased  it  until  it  flew  behind  the  chest  of  tools. 
Just  then  the  motiier  came  in,  and  the  child  begged 
her  to  remove  the  box,  that  he  might  get  the 
butterfly.  The  neighb  lur  offered  at  once  to  do  so  ; 
and  while  he  was  removing  it  from  the  wall,  a 
piece  of  paper  fell  clown  behind,  which  the  widow, 
taking  up,  found  to  be  the  lost  bill,  receipted  as  she 
had  said.  Slie  was  overcome  with  praise  and 
gratituiie  to  God,  who  had  answered  her  prayer  by 
means  of  the  butterfly  ;  and  even  her  enemy  him- 
self discovered  the  missing  bill. 

(390'')  On  tbe  coast  of  Scotland,  one  stormy 
night,  a  woman  came  to  the  house  of  her  pastor, 
and  said  to  the  minister  :  "  Rise,  and  pray  for  my 
husband,  for  he  is  on  the  sea  in  a  storm."  The 
Christian  wife  and  her  pastor  knelt  down  and 
piayed  for  the  salvation  of  the  sea-captain.  Sure 
enougii,  at  that  very  hour  the  vessel  was  tossed 
upon  the  angry  seas.  The  ship  plunged  in  the 
wave,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  come  up 
again  ;  but  it  righted,  and  came  to  the  top  of  the 
wave.  It  plunged  again,  and  for  a  long  wliile  the 
Ijaptain  thouglit  it  would  never  rise  ;  but  it  began  to 
'shake  itself  again  from  the  wave,  and  again  bounded 
the  sea.  The  third  lime  it  went  down,  and  all 
hands  on  board  gave  up  the  last  hope.  But  again 
it  mounted.  As  it  came  out  of  the  foaming  billows, 
the  captain  said  to  his  crew  :  "  Lads,  surely  there 
v/as  some  God's  soul  on  the  land  praying  for  us  to- 
night, or  we  would  never  have  come  up  out  of 
that."  — Talmage. 

(390?  ;  My  father  was  a  man  of  prayer,  and  in 
our  home  the  family  altar  was  never  permitted  to 
fall  down,  nor  its  tires  to  expire  or  giow  dim. 
Around  that  altar  our  dependence  on  God  was 
constantly  acknowledged,  and  the  Divine  blessing 
continually  invoked.  Nor  was  that  blessing  sought 
in  vain,  but  mercies  new  and  fresh,  from  day  to 
day,  were  granteii  in  answer  to  a  father's  prayers. 

One  bright  morning  in  the  spring  of  1850,  after 
commending  us  to  the  Divine  protection,  my  father 
put  two  bushels  ol  rye  into  his  waggon  and  started 
for  the  grist-mill,  a  few  miles  di.^tant  from  our 
home.  When  mure  than  half-way  there  he  had  to 
cross  a  britlge,  along  the  sides  ol  which  there  were 
no  railings,  but  only  some  logs  laid  upon  the  end 
of  the  pliinks. 

When  on  the  middle  of  this  bridge  the  horse 
stopped  and  began  to  back.  My  lather  leaped 
from  the  waggon,  and  the  horse  continued  backing 
till  the  liind  wlieels  went  oser  the  lugs  and  of^  the 
edge  of  the  bridge,  .nnd  the  waggon  seat  and  grain 
bag  tumbled  out  and  fell  into  tiie  stream.  At  tiiis 
moment  the  horse  stopped,  the  forward  wheels 
caught  on  the  log,  and  the  hinder  part  of  the  wag- 
gon hung  over  tlie  edge  of  the  briilge,  being  held 
by  the  horse  and  by  the  forward  wheels. 

Four  or  five  men  soon  came  to  the  rescue,  the 
waggon  was  lilted  back,  the  grist  fished  up  from  the 
water,  and  iu  half  an  hour  my  father  was  on  his 


way  back  home  to  dry  his  grist  and  get  it  ready  fof 

grmding  again. 

There  was  a  mystery  about  this  whole  transaction. 
We  could  not  imagnie  what  had  made  the  horse 
back  when  upon  the  bridge.  He  showed  no  signs 
of  fright,  and  had  never  acted  so  before.  My  father, 
was  troubled.  He  had  earnestly  prayed  that  moin- 
ing  that  the  angel  of  the  Lord  might  encamp 
around  about  us  that  day,  and  now  to  be  subjected 
to  such  an  accident  and  so  much  inconvenience, 
was  something  of  a  trial  to  his  faith,  though  it  did 
not  shake  his  confidence  in  God. 

He  returned  home,  and  we  went  to  work  to  dry 
our  grain  and  prepare  it  for  grinding;  but  when  we 
spread  out  the  rye  upon  a  cloih  in  the  sun  to  dry, 
we  noticed,  scattered  all  through  it,  fragments  of  a 
fine  glittering  substance,  which,  on  examination 
proved  to  be  glass  I  Thousands  and  thoiwands  of 
little  fragments  and  splinters  of  broken  glass  were 
mingled  with  those  two  bushels  of  rye — enough  to 
have  caused  the  death  of  all  our  family,  and  a 
hundred  otheis,  if  the  grain  had  been  ground,  and 
baked  and  eaten. 

We  were  amazed  at  this  revelation ;  and  with 
what  grateful  hearts  we  knelt  around  the  family 
altar  and  thanked  God  for  His  wonderful  provi- 
dence  which  had  so  strangely  preserved  our  lives  ! 

But  how  came  the  glass  thus  mingled  with  the 
grain?  It  was  all  explained  very  soon.  The  rye 
had  been  kept  in  an  open  barrel,  and  over  this 
barrel  our  neighbours  had  smoothed  axe-hnndles, 
using  pieces  of  glass  to  scrape  and  polish  them. 
These  pieces  of  glass  were  thus  bioken  and 
splintered,  and  the  fragments  dropped  unnoticed 
into  the  grain,  and  were  measured  up  and  placed 
in  the  bag  to  be  carried  to  the  mill. 

No  one  suspected  the  danger,  and  if  that  grist 
had  been  ground  no  human  power  could  have 
averted  the  calamity,  or  saved  our  family  from  the 
terrible  influence  of  a  poison  so  deadly  as  powdered 
glass.  God,  in  His  providence,  interposed  and 
preserved  our  lives — truly  it  is  but  right  that  they 
should  be  consecrated  to  His  servict. 


PROFESSION. 

I.    IS  A  DUTY  ABSOLUTELY   BINDING  ON 
ALL  BELIEVERS. 
1.  Because  of  their  past  relatioa<i  to  God. 

(3903.)  In  the  Bible  God  has  made  faith  indis- 
pensable, and  has  attached  an  unspeakable  impor- 
tance to  it.  Two  or  three  remarks  will  show  wiiy 
God  has  selected  this,  and  has  made  its  exeiciac 
the  indispensable  condition  of  salvation. 

One  is,  that  the  true  source  of  all  evil  to  man  i« 
want  of  confidence  in  his  Creator — a  want  of  con- 
fidence in  His  promise.  Mis  law.  His  claims.  His 
threatenings.  His  qualifications  for  universal  empire. 
This  want  of  confidence  in  God  has  produced  the 
same  evils  in  His  administration  which  it  does  any- 
where. A  want  of  confidence  between  a  husband 
and  wife  annihilates  their  happiness,  and  turns 
their  once  peaceful  dwelling  into  a  hell ;  a  want  ol 
confidence  between  parent  and  children  is  the  end 
ofordar  and  government;  a  want  of  confidence  in 
a  Iriend,  a  (/h)3ician.  a  lawyer,  or  a  pastor,  is  the 
parent  ol  distress  and  woe  ;  a  want  of  confiiicncd 
in  a  commercial  cominuiiity  is  au  end  of  prosperity 


PROFESSION. 


(    660    ) 


^ROFESSIOM. 


A.nd  so  it  is  in  the  government  of  God.  Man  is 
wictched  only  because  lie  has  no  confidence  in  his 
Creator.  He  does  not  worship  Him  as  God  ;  he 
does  not  believe  that  He  is  wise  ;  he  does  not  go  to 
Him  in  trouble,  he  does  not  rely  on  His  pionii>es  ; 
he  does  not  seek.  Him  in  time  of  distress  ;  he  does 
not  trust  Him  in  death.  Now  the  only  thing  need- 
ful to  make  this  a  happy  world,  with  all  its  sick- 
ness and  sadness,  is  to  restore  confidence  in  God. 
This  would  meet  all  the  evils  of  the  apostacy,  and 
»vould  compose  the  agitated  human  bosom  to  peace 
—  like  oil  on  trouiiled  waves.  It  will  have  just  the 
effect  under  the  divine  government  which  it  will 
have  in  a  family,  if  you  restore  cunfidence  to  the 
alienated  affections  of  husband  and  w  ifc  ;  and  in 
a  community,  if  you  restore  universal  confidence 
between  man  and  man. 

Another  reason  why  this  is  required  is,  that  God 
could  require  no  less  of  man.  In  ?,  plan  of  salva- 
tion inttnded  to  be  adapted  to  all  the  race,  that 
was  the  lowest  possible  demand,  as  it  is  the  simplest 
and  most  easy.  Could  God  admit  alienated  crea- 
tures to  Himself  on  any  other  condition  than  that 
they  should  iiave  confidence  in  Him?  Could  He 
atlmit  those  to  iieaven — to  dwell  with  Him,  to 
lange  the  fields  of  glory,  to  encompass  His  throne — 
who  iiad  no  reliance  in  His  qualifications  for  uni- 
versal empire  ?  Can  you  admit  the  mnn  who  has 
been  your  professed  friend,  but  who  has  slandered 
and  injured  you,  again  to  your  friendship,  without 
evidence  of  returning  confidence  and  regard  ?  Can 
a  parent  admit  a  rebellious  and  ungrateful  child 
again  to  the  fulness  of  his  affection  and  to  his 
iamily,  if  he  has  no  evidence  of  returning  confidence? 
God,  therefore,  requires  faith  in  Him,  because  He 
could  require  no  less.  It  is  the  lowest  possible 
condition. 

And  for  a  similar  reason,  He  requires  that  that 
faith  should  be  avowed.  "  With  the  mouth  con- 
fession is  made  unto  salvation."  The  want  of  con- 
fidence has  been  open.  The  injuiy  has  been  iiublic. 
And  wherever  there  is  returning  confidence,  it 
should  be  avowed,  and  the  restored  sinner  should 
be  desiious  that  his  return  to  God  should  be  as 
widely  known  as  his  apostacy  has  been.  When  a 
man  has  calumniated  you  publicly,  it  will  not  do 
for  him  to  come  and  confess  it  to  you  alone,  and 
in  the  ilark.  He  has  done  you  public  wrong,  and 
the  confession  should  be  public  too.  The  sinner 
should  be  willing,  therefore,  that  all  worlds  shall  be 
apprised  of  his  return,  ami  seek  that  throughout 
tiie  universe  it  shall  be  proclaimed  that  he  has  con- 
fidence in  I  lie  Creator.  Thus  he  will  not  only 
believe  in  his  heart  on  the  Lord  Jesus,  but  wiU 
confess  Him  with  his  mouth,  and  de.^iie  that  the 
universe  shall  be  acquainted  with  his  repentance 
and  return.  — Barnes,  179S-1870. 

3.  Because  of  their  present  relations  to  God. 

(3904.)  It  is  not  sufficient  to  carry  religion  in 
our  hearts  as  fire  is  carried  in  flint-stones  ;  but  we 
are  outwardly,  visibly,  apparently,  to  serve  and 
honour  the  living  God.        — Hooker,  1 553-1600. 

(3905.)  What  doth  God  require  by  a  free  pro- 
fession of  His  truth,  more  than  a  master  doth  of 
his  servant,  when  he  bids  him  take  his  livery,  and 
(oUow  him  in  the  streets?  Or  when  a  prince  calls 
his  subjects  into  the  field,  to  declare  their  loyalty, 
by  owning  his  qt>arrel  against  an  invading  enemy  ? 


And  is  it  reasonable,  what  man  requires  of  thesftj 
and  only  hard  from  God's  hands? 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679, 

(3906.)  "Religion,'' it  is  said,  "is  a  secret  principle 
of  the  soul.  It  shrinks  back  from  the  public  gaze,  and 
seeks  concealment,  and  .should  not  seek  publicity." 
But  why  is  this  said  ?  There  is  nothing  of  it  in  the 
IJible  ;  but  everything  there  is  just  the  contrary. 
Hypocrisy,  and  mere  profession,  and  ostentation, 
and  sounding  a  trumpet,  are  rebuked.  But  1  ask 
a  man  to  point  me  to  a  single  passage  in  the  Bible 
wheie  the  manifestation  of  pure  religion  is  rebuked. 
Religion,  in  the  Bible,  is  supposed  to  be  prominent 
and  manifest,  if  it  exists  at  all  (Matt.  v.  16  ;  Luke 
ix.  26).  It  is  to  constitute  the  character  ;  it  is  to 
distinguish  the  man.  I  point  you  to  the  example 
of  Christ.  Religion  is  everything  in  His  life.  I 
point  yf^u  to  the  example  of  I^aul.  You  see  nothing 
else  in  his  life  but  his  religion.  Amonj_;  Greeks, 
and  Jews,  and  Barbarians,  it  is  alike  developed.  I 
point  you  to  David,  and  Isaiah,  and  John,  and  the 
holy  martyrs,  and  ask  what  were  their  principles? 
The  men  were  modest  men  ;  but  their  religion  was 
open  and  bold.  It  constituted  theii  rery  character  ; 
and  is  that,  and  that  alone,  by  whkh  they  are 
known.  And  thus  it  is  in  all  the  works  ar.d  doings 
of  God.  Is  the  sun  that  rides  these  heavens 
ashamed  to  shine  ;  and  does  he  hide  his  noontide 
beams  under  the  jilea  that  pure  light  should  not 
be  ostentatious  ?  Is  the  moon — that,  like  the  Chris- 
tian, shines  by  reflected  light — ashamed  to  eir.it  its 
rays,  and  to  sleep  on  the  bank  ami  the  silver  lake? 
Are  the  stars — the  wandering  or  the  fixed — ashamed 
to  send  their  rays  on  a  darkened  world  ?  No. 
Light,  pure,  rich,  varied,  dazzling,  shines  forth  from 
these  iieavens  by  day  and  by  night,  just  as  the 
light  of  the  Christian's  example  is  to  be  p(juied  on 
the  darkness  of  the  world.  It  shines  not  indeed  for 
display,  but  for  use  ;  not  for  its  own  glory,  but 
like  the  light  that  should  radiate  from  the  Chris- 
tian's life,  to  illustrate  the  glory  of  tlie  great 
Creator.  And  thus  it  is  in  all  (jod's  works,  'i'he 
ocean  that  He  has  made  is  not  ashamed  to  roll ;  the 
lightning  of  heaven  to  play  ;  the  oak  to  spiead  out 
its  boughs  ;  the  flower  to  b'oom.  The  humblest 
vitjlet  on  which  we  tread  is  not  ashamed  to  e\liibit 
its  beauty,  and  display  its  Maker's  praise  ;  nor  will 
the  obscurest  light  in  the  true  Chiislian's  soul  seek 
to  be  hid.  Light  is  kindled  there  to  shine  on  tiie 
darkness  of  a  lost  world.  And  if  Chrisdan  light 
does  not  shine  forth  in  the  life,  we  have  the  highest 
evidence  that  it  has  never  been  enkindled  m  the 
bosom.  — Bar  ties,  179S-1S70. 

3.  Because  of  their  obligations  to  Christ. 

(3907.)  If  people  are  loud  in  the  praise  of  the 
physician  who  has  cured  them  of  some  deatlly 
malady  —  recommencing  others  to  trust  and  seek 
his  skill,  why  should  not  Christ's  people  crown 
Him  with  equal  honours,  commend  Him  to  a 
dying  world,  and  proclaim  what  He  has  done  for 
them?  Let  them  say  with  David,  "Come,  all  ye 
that  fear  the  Lord,  and  1  will  declare  what  He 
hath  done  for  my  soul  ;"  and  tread  in  the  sie|)s  of 
the  Samaritan  who  threw  away  her  pitcher,  and 
running  to  the  city,  brought  them  all  out — crying, 
"Come,  see  a  man  who  hath  told  me  all  things 
that  1  have  ever  done." 

It  is  a  bad  thing  ostentatiously  to  parade  reli- 
gion ;  but  it  is  a  base  thing  for  a  Christian  man  to 


PROFESSION. 


(    66r     ) 


PROFESSION. 


be  ashamed  of  it  :  not  to  stand  by  his  colours  ;  by 
his  silence,  if  not  his  speecli,  to  deny  liis  Master; 
to  sneak  away,  lilie  a  coward,  out  of  tiie  fight. 

—  Guthrit. 

4.  Because  of  the  needs  of  their  fellow-iren. 

(3908.)  Is  it  meet  for  him  that  hath  found  the  way 
to  heaven  to  liold  his  tony  lie,  and  let  oiheis  quietly 
post  to  hell  ?  Should  a  man  that  has  narrowly 
escaped  damnation  himself,  be  silent  when  he  seeth 
others  1^0  in  tlie  same  way  that  lie  had  hl<ed  to 
have  perished  in?  Who  will  not  call  to  another  to 
take  heed,  that  hath  escaped  a  quicksand  himseif? 
or  set  up  a  bush,  that  those  that  follow  may  see 
the  danger?  — i5aj:/^;,  1617-1679, 

(3909.)  Love  to  Jesus  Christ  is  the  soul  of  true 

religion.  And  without  their  becoming  loud  talkers, 
or  making  a  parade  of  piety,  it  will  lead  those 
that  feel  its  power  to  "exhort  one  another  daily  ;  " 
to  try  to  bring  sinners  to  the  Saviour  ;  and — as 
many  who  have  overcome  a  false  modesty  are  now 
doing— to  seize  all  opportunities  of  dealing  faith- 
fully v\iih  other  men  about  iheir  souls.  Why  should 
not  we  tell  others  the  way  to  heaven  if  we  our- 
selves iiave  found  it?  Why  should  not  we  warn 
a  man  who,  unconscious  of  his  danger,  is  approach- 
ing the  blink  of  luin?  Why  shouki  not  we  snatch 
the  poisoned  chalice  from  a  brother's  lips?  Why 
should  not  we  reach  a  hand  down  to  the  drowning, 
and  pluck  him  from  the  jaws  of  death,  and  set  him 
besiiie  us  on  the  rock  where  there  is  room  for 
both  ?  — Guthrie. 

6.  No  personal  considerations  should  be  allowed 
to  deter  them  from  it. 

(3910.)  I  think  I  heard  a  conversation  in  the 
leaves  this  morning,  as  I  came  to  church.  The 
buds  that  had  lain  all  winter  in  their  wrappings,  as 
under  roofs  and  blankets,  were  beginning  to  say  to 
each  other,  "Is  it  not  iVlarch?  Is  it  not  time  for 
us  to  unfold  ourselves,  and  expand  our  leaves  in 
fragrance  to  the  air?" 

But  one  liny  Imd  answered,  "  I  can  never  unfold 
to  the  sun  and  tlie  air  these  dear  little  leaves,  that 
have  lain  so  long  in  my  bosom.  I  could  not  bear 
such  publicity.  I  must  keep  their  fragrance  still." 
And  tiie  sun  and  the  wind  laughed  ;  lor  they  knew 
that  when  they  should  shine  and  blow  upon  the 
bud,  ami  fill  up  and  swell  those  tiny  leaves  it  would 
open  fiom  the  necessity  of  iis  nature,  and  that  when 
they  were  swimming  in  a  bath  of  solar  light,  they 
would  give  out  their  odour  unconsciously  to  every 
breeze. 

So  many  a  heart  says,  *'  I  could  not  bear  to  have 
my  sweet  buds  of  feeling  exposed,  through  pro- 
fession of  Christianity,  to  the  gaze  of  the  world. 
1  will  keep  them  safely  hid  in  my  bosom,  and  be 
a  Christian  in  secret."  But  when  the  winds  of 
heaven  l)low  upon  them,  and  the  sun  of  God's  love 
shines,  they  will  become  vocal,  and  must  needs 
give  themselves  expression.  — BcecJier. 

(3911.)  There  are  a  great  many  persons  that  fain 
would  become  Christians  if  tiiey  thought  they 
should  hold  out.  Oh,  dear  f(Jol  !  do  you  suppose 
that  Christ  called  you  into  liis  kingdom  saying, 
*'  I  will  help  you  in  ;  but  when  you  are  once  in 
you  must  take  care  of  yourself?"  Why,  you  are 
not  going  to  be  consistent  Christians.  I  do  not 
tare  who  you  are,  you  are  going  to  sin  as'  long  as 


you  live.  It  is  not  a  question  of  whether  you  will 
be  consistent  or  not.  If  any  man  comes  to  me,  and 
says,  "  Now,  1  am  willing  to  be  called  a  Christian, 
for  I  think  I  am  in  a  state  in  which  I  can  live  a 
perfectly  Christian  life,"  I  say  to  him,  "Co  away. 
We  do  not  want  you.  We  have  no  arrangement 
for  such  folks."  Cod  sent  us  to  conduct  an  insiitu- 
tion  and  economy  whicii  has  in  view  the  healing  of 
people.  If  there  is  anyhotiy  that  need>  healing  we 
have  the  means  with  which  to  heal  him.  I  am,  we 
will  suppose,  a  physician,  that  has  charge  of  an 
hospital.  Here  comes  one  man  who  has  been 
struck  by  a  bullet,  and  whose  breast  is  terribly 
lacerated.  I  say,  "Pass  hiin  into  ward  No.  6," 
and  away  he  goes.  Here  comes  another  man, 
bandaged  and  limping.  His  arm  is  broken,  and 
he  has  received  a  severe  wound  in  the  leg.  I  give 
directions  for  him  to  be  taiien  to  ward  No.  7. 
Presently  there  comes  up  a  brisk,  fine-looking 
fellow,  who  sicjs,  "  I  wish  you  would  let  me  go  in 
here."  "What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  I  ask. 
"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  says  ;  "  I  am  fit  to  go  in  :  I  am 
all  right  in  c  ery  respect."  "  Then  you  cannot  go 
in,"  I  say  :  ."  this  is  not  the  place  for  people  wiih 
whom  there  is  nothing  the  matter.  It  is  not  a 
tavern  ;  it  is  an  hospital."  — Backer. 

II.    HOIV  IT  IS  TO  Bk  MADE. 

1.  Humbly. 

(3912.)  The   language   of   a   man   entering   the 

Church  is  not,  "  I  have  become  so  good,  that  1  will 
now  join  myself  to  the  members  of  Christ,  and 
hence  orth  be  a  pattern  to  all  who  know  me,  and 
an  honour  to  God."  It  is,  "I  have  discovered  my 
lost  and  wretched  condition,  and  that  I  am  too 
weak  to  stand  alone.  I  have  cast  my  soul  upon 
Christ's  mercy,  and  I  beseech  His  children,  if 
there  is  any  strength  or  safety  in  the  Church,  to 
take  me  in  and  watch  over  and  help  me. " 

— Betcher. 

2.  Seriously. 

(3913.)  Awful,  indeed,  are  the  responsibilities  of 
making  a  high  religious  profession  ;  and  he  who  by 
such  a  prolession  lifts  himself  above  the  crowd, 
resembles  Nelson,  when  appearing  with  all  his 
orders  at  Trafalgar; — he  is  only  too  likely  to  make 
himself  a  mark  for  the  tiery  darts  of  the  great 
enemy.  — Goulburn. 

3.  Resolutely. 

(3914.)  Su]:ipose  a  geometrician  should  be  draw- 
ing of  lines  and  figures,  and  there  should  come  in 
some  silly,  ignorant  fellow,  who,  seeing  him,  should 
laugh  at  him,  would  the  artist,  think  you,  leave  oft 
his  employment  because  of  his  derision?  Surely 
no  ;  for  he  knows  that  he  laughs  at  hiin  out  of  his 
ignorance,  as  not  knowing  his  art  and  the  grounds 
thereof.  Thus,  let  no  man  be  ashamed  of  his 
godly  profession,  because  wicked  men  s[jeak  evil 
of  it  ;  and  why  do  they  so  but  because  they  under- 
stand it  not,  it  is  strange  to  them.  They  see  the 
actions  of  godly  men,  but  the  rules  and  principles 
that  they  go  by  they  know  not ;  and  hence  is  it 
that  they  throw  dirt  in  the  face  of  religious  pro- 
fession, but  a  wise  man  will  soon  wipe  ii  off  again. 
— /"r^/cw,  1587-1628. 

(3915.)  Begin  with  resolution  ;  forecast  the  worst, 
and  prepare  for  it.  Both  hope  for  the  most  even, 
and  prepare  thyself  for  the  most  uneven.     Some 


PROFESSION. 


(    662    } 


PROFESSION. 


professors  are  but  like  those  that  go  to  sea  upon 
pleasure  :  they  purpose  to  sail  no  further  than  they 
see  the  way  clear  before  them  :  if  llie  sea  begin  to 
work,  or  tliey  to  he  sick,  back  a^jnin  with  all  haste 
to  tlie  shore.  But  tlie  right  Cliristian  is  bound  for 
heaven,  as  the  mercliant  is  for  his  port :  storms  and 
tempests  cannot  afliiglit  them  :  on  they  go,  through 
fair  or  foul,  till  they  arrive  at  the  desire  of  their 
own  hearts.     Resolve  to  continue,  or  never  begin. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(3916.)  We  must  keep  up  our  savour  in  a  corrupt 
age,  as  Noah  did  :  "  Noah  was  a  just  man  and  per- 
fect in  his  generation,  and  Noah  walked  with  God." 
Lot  lived  more  upright  in  Sodom,  where  he  was 
besieged  with  temptations,  that  made  him  constantly 
to  stand  upon  his  watch,  than  he  did  in  the  cave, 
where  he  neglected  it,  and  so  grew  secure.  As  fire 
burns  hottest  in  the  coldest  weather,  so  a  Christian's 
real,  by  a  holy  antiperistasis,  should  flame  most  in 
a  corrupted,  debauched  age. 

— Manton,  1620- 1667. 

(39'7')  All  have  a  desire  to  be  happy,  but  few 
have  courage  and  resolution  to  grapple  with  the 
difficulties  that  meet  them  in  their  way  to  happi- 
ness. All  Israel  came  joyfully  out  of  Egypt  under 
Moses's  conduct  ;  yea,  and  a  mixed  multitude  with 
them  ;  but  when  their  bellies  were  a  little  pinched 
with  hunger,  and  their  greedy  desires  of  a  present 
Canaan  deferred  ;  yea,  instead  of  peace  and  plenty, 
war  and  penury  ;  they  (like  white-livered  soldiers) 
are  ready  to  fly  from  their  colours,  and  make  a  dis- 
honourable retreat  into  Egypt.  Thus  the  greatest 
part  of  those  who  profess  the  gospel,  when  they 
come  to  push  of  pike,  to  be  tried  what  they  will  do, 
deny,  endure  for  Christ,  grow  sick  of  their  enter- 
prise ;  alas  !  their  hearts  fail  them.  They  like  the 
waters  of  Bethlehem  ;  but  if  they  nmst  dispute  their 
passage  with  so  many  enemies,  they  will  even  con- 
tent themselves  wiiii  their  own  cistern,  and  leave 
heaven  to  others  that  will  venture  more  for  it.  Oh  ! 
how  many  part  with  Christ  at  this  cross-way  !  like 
Orpah,  that  go  a  fuilong  or  two  with  Christ,  till 
He  goes  to  take  them  off  from  their  worldly  hopes, 
and  bids  them  piepare  for  hardship,  and  then  they 
fairly  kiss  and  leave  Him  ;  loth  imieed  to  lose 
heaven,  but  more  loth  to  buy  it  at  so  dear  a  rate. 
Like  some  gieen  heads,  that  childishly  make  choice 
of  some  sweet  trade  (such  as  is  tiie  confectioner's) 
from  a  liquorish  tootli  they  have  to  tlie  junkets  it 
affords  ;  but  meeting  with  sour  sauce  of  labour  and 
toil  that  goes  with  them,  they  give  in,  and  are 
weary  of  their  service  :  the  sweet  bait  of  religion 
hath  drawn  many  to  nibble  at  it,  who  are  offended 
with  the  hard  service  it  calls  to.  It  requires  an- 
other spirit  than  the  world  can  give  or  receive,  to 
follow  Christ  fully.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3918.)  Run  from  thy  work,  and  thou  engagest 
God's  strength  against  thee.  He'll  send  some  sturm 
or  other  after  thee  to  bring  home  His  runaway  ser- 
vant. How  oft  hath  the  coward  been  killed  in  a 
ditch,  or  under  some  hedge,  when  the  valiant 
soldier  that  stood  his  ground  and  kept  his  place, 
got  oh  with  safety  and  honour?  Art  thou  called  to 
suffer  ?  Flinch  not  because  thou  art  afraid  thou 
shall  never  be  able  to  bear  the  cross  ;  Goti  can  lay 
it  so  even,  thou  shalt  not  feel  it.  Though  thou 
shouldst  find  no  succour  till  thou  comest  to  the 
prison  door,  yea,  till  thou  hast  one  foot  on  the  lad- 
der, or  thy  neck  on  th«  ^lock,  desu.iir  not.     "  la 


the  Mount  will  the  Lord  be  seen."  And  in  that 
hour  He  can  give  thee  such  a  look  of  His  sweet 
face,  as  shall  make  the  blood  come  in  the  ghastly 
face  of  a  cruel  death,  and  appenr  lovely  in  thy  eye 
for  His  sake.  He  can  give  thee  so  much  comlort 
in  hand,  as  thou  shalt  acknowledge  God  is  afore- 
hand  with  thee,  for  all  the  shame  and  pain  thou, 
canst  endure  for  Him.  And  if  it  should  not  amount 
to  this,  yet  so  much  as  will  bear  all  thy  charges 
thou  canst  be  put  to  in  the  way,  lies  ready  told  in 
that  promise  (i  Cor.  x.  13).  Thou  shalt  have  it 
at  sight,  and  this  may  satisfy  a  Christian,  especially 
if  he  considers,  though  he  doih  not  carry  so  much 
of  heaven's  joy  about  him  lo  heaven  as  others,  yet 
he  shall  meet  it  as  soon  as  he  comes  to  his  Father's 
house  where  it  is  "reserved  "  for  him. 

— Gw-nall,  1617-1679. 

(3919.)  Many  like  religion  for  a  summer-house, 
when  all  is  fair  abroad  in  the  world  ;  but  when 
winter  comes,  the  doors  are  shut  up,  and  there  it 
no  one  to  be  seen  in  or  about  it. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

{3920.)  The  light  of  religion  ought  not  to  be 
carried  in  a  dark  lantern,  and  to  be  shown  only 
when  thy  own  interest  will  permit,  and  at  other 
times  hid  (Matt.  x.  33). 

1  wish  that  I  may  confess  Christ,  whatever  it  may 
cost  me,  and  though  not  thrust  myself  into  danger, 
yet  never  betray  my  cause,  or  break  through  any 
command,  to  avoid  the  crudest  death.  It  is  com- 
mon with  the  hypocrite,  as  with  the  snail,  to  look 
what  weather  is  abroad,  and  if  that  be  stormy,  to 
pull  in  his  horns  and  hide  his  head.  The  hedge- 
hog alters  his  hole  according  to  the  wind ;  the 
swallow  changes  his  nest  according  to  the  season. 
The  flies  will  abound  in  a  sunshiny  day,  but  if 
once  it  be  cloudy,  they  vanish.  When  Christ  rides 
to  Jerusalem  in  triumph,  many  cry,  "  Hosanna  !  " 
who,  when  He  is  taken  and  tried  for  His  life,  cry, 
"  Crucify  !  crucify  !  "  The  upright  soul  is  constant 
in  His  profession,  and  changes  not  his  behaviour 
according  to  his  companions.  Oh,  that  1  might 
never  through  shame  or  fear  disown  Him  who  has 
already  acknowledged  me  1       — Swinnock,  1673. 

(3921.)  I  have  no  notion  of  a  timid,  disingenuous 
profession  of  Christ.  Sucii  preachers  and  profes- 
sors are  like  a  rat  playing  at  hide-and-seek  behind 
a  wainscot,  who  puts  his  head  through  a  hole  to 
see  if  the  coast  is  clear,  and  ventures  out  if  nobody 
is  in  the  way  ;  but  slinks  back  again  when  danger 
appears.  We  cannot  be  honest  to  Christ  except 
we  are  bold  for  Him.  He  is  either  worth  a// we 
can  lose  for  Him,  or  He  is  worth  nothing. 

—Salttr. 

III.  WHAT  IS  DEMANDED  IN  THOSE  WHO 
MAKE  IT. 

1.  Sincerity. 

(3922.)  A  musician  is  commended  non  tarn  mur- 
ium, sed  tain  bene  (not  that  he  played  so  long,  but 
that  he  played  so  well).  And  thus  it  is  not  the 
days  of  our  life,  but  the  goodness  of  our  life  ;  not 
the  length  of  our  prayers,  but  the  fervency  of  our 
prayers  ;  not  the  measiire  of  our  profession,  but  the 
sincerity  of  our  profession, — that  is  acceptable  unt« 
God  Almighty.  —Shuite,  1623. 


PROFESSION. 


(    663    ) 


PROFESSION. 


(3923.)  God  does  not  regard  the  rind  of  the  lips, 
but  the  root  of  the  heart.  — Adams,  1653. 

(3924.)  He  would  he  deemed  a  most  vain  man, 
that  would  boast  that  he  had  been  at  the  East 
Indies,  conquered  a  great  ]iart  of  the  country,  and 
brouglu  away  much  treasure  and  rich  commodities 
from  thence,  who  had  yet  never  crossed  the  seas, 
or  set  foot  once  on  sliipboard,  or  come  near  the 
seaside.  And  no  less  vain  are  they  that  would 
have  'hem  believe  that  they  have  made  conquest 
of  the  spiritual  Canaan,  and  possessed  themselves 
with  much  of  the  treasure  of  it  ;  when  as  they  never 
yet  once  stirred  out  of  the  mystical  Egypt,  never  so 
much  as  inquired  the  way  to  it,  much  less  ever 
travelled  towards  it.  He  would  be  deemed  most 
ridiculous,  that  would  profess  to  have  rare  skill  in 
tlie  mathematics,  or  some  other  abstruse  science, 
when  he  hail  never  spent  an  hour  in  the  study 
thereof.  And  no  less  ridiculous  are  they  that  will 
seem  to  have  gotten  mach  in  this  spiritual  king- 
craft (if  1  may  so  term  it)  and  yet  never  busied 
their  lirains  about  it,  never  studied  the  gospel  of 
the  kingdom,  the  only  book  out  of  which  it  may 
be  learned.  Yea,  in  this  regard  is  this  spiritual 
treasure  rather  like  learning  than  wealth  ;  in  that 
worldly  wealth  and  honours  may  be  had  without 
labour  or  study  by  the  donation  of  others,  or  by 
succession  and  descent  ;  this,  not  so  ;  each  one  must 
seek  it  for  himself,  and  must  seek  and  labour  in  it 
himself,  or  else  the  seeking  of  others,  and  their 
endeavours  for  him,  will  stand  liim  in  little  stead. 
—  Cataker,  1574-1654. 

2.  Christian  practice. 

(I.)  Without  this  we  demonstrate  that  our  pro- 
fession is  false. 

(3925.)  Like  a  beautiful  flower,  full  of  colour, 
but  without  scent,  are  the  fine  but  fruitless  words 
of  him  who  does  not  act  accordingly. 

— Buddha. 

(3926.)  Like  as  they  who  have  learned  the  art  of 
sewing,  of  cordwainery,  or  drapery,  and  so  forth, 
yet  are  not  reputed  tailors,  cordwainers,  or  drapers, 
unless  they  do  in  act  execute  those  sciences,  which 
is  indeed  the  purpose  of  their  apprenticeship  :  even 
so  lei  us  n°ver  look  to  be  true  and  sound  Christians, 
or  God's  children,  notwithstanding  we  have  learned 
the  Word  of  Gad  and  the  manner  thereof,  unless 
we  also  perform  the  works  of  Christians  and  of  the 
children  of  Gud.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(3927.)  When  we  see  the  effigy  or  portraiture  of 
any  king  stand  still  without  motion,  exquisitely 
graven  in  metal  or  painted  out  in  lively  colours,  we 
know  that,  for  all  the  eyes  and  mouth  and  nose 
that  it  hath,  it  hath  no  life  in  it.  So,  when  we  see 
professors  of  religion  without  the  powerful  practice 
of  godliness,  and  supreme  officers  of  state  without 
the  administration  of  justice,  we  can  safely  con- 
clude, that  the  life  of  God  is  not  in  them  ;  that 
they  are  not  actuated  by  any  divine  principle 
within,  but  are  mere  idols  and  images  of  vanity. 

— Leslie,  1627. 


4" 


(3928.)  Many  there  are  that  have  nothing  to 
prove  themselves  Christians,  but  a  naked  profession, 
of  whom  we  may  say  as  they  do  of  the  cinnamon 
tree,  that  the  bari  is  more  worth  than  all  they  have 
besides.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 


(3929.)  When  we  see  that  men's  lives  do  nullify 
their  [professions,  and  that  while  they  look  towards 
God,  they  row  towards  the  woritl  ;  and  while  they 
hope  for  heaven,  their  daily  travel  is  towards  hell  ; 
and  while  they  plead  for  Christ,  they  woik  against 
Him  ;  our  hopes  of  them  are  turned  to  necessary 
lamentation.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(3930.)  Those  persons  who  practise  devotion 
.  .  .  and  who  fail  to  do  works  of  faith  and  charity, 
are  like  trees  in  blossom.  You  think  there  will  t)e 
as  much  fruit  as  flower,  but  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence. —  Vuinttey. 

(2.)  Without  this  we  bring  dishonour  upon  religion, 

(3931.)  As  at  the  bar  truth  is  often  wronged  by 
an  ill  pleader,  so  religion  is  scandalised  by  an  ill 
professor.  — Adams,  1653. 

(3932.)  An  eminently  holy  man  puts  life  into  a 
whole  community  ;  on  the  contrary,  a  loose  pro- 
fessor endangers  the  entire  body.  A  scab  on  the 
wolf's  back  is  not  so  infectious  to  the  sheep,  because 
they  will  not  be  drawn  away  by  such  company  ; 
but  when  it  gets  into  the  flock  that  rend,  hear,  and 
pray  together,  then  there  is  fear  it  will  spread.  And 
oh,  how  Christians  hang  down  their  heads  upon 
the  scandal  of  any  of  their  company  !  as  all  the 
patriarchs  were  troubled  when  the  cup  was  found 
in  one  of  their  sacks.         — Gu/nall,  1617-1679. 

(3.)    Without  this  we  nullify  our  testimony  for " 
Christ. 

(3933.)  When  we  urge  one  whom  we  have  been 
persuatiing  to  go  to  the  physician  who  has  benefited 
us,  he  must  see  for  himselj  that  we  have  been  benefited. 
Though  he  may  not  have  known  us  as  we  were, 
he  must  see  what  we  are.  It  will  be  vain  for  us  to  tell 
him  of  a  cure  and  of  returning  health,  if  the  wasted 
form,  and  the  pale  cheek,  and  the  hollow  eye,  and 
the  bloodless  lip,  tell  a  different  and  a  contra- 
dictory story.  Our  feelings  will  not  weigh  against 
the  evidence  oi  his  senses  and  our  own  truih-telling 
looks.  He  must  see  for  himself  the  proofs  of  at 
least  retiirniug\\t.2\\.\\ — the  evidences  of  recruited 
strength — the  witness  of  repaired  energy.  And  if 
he  does  all  this  to  confirm  the  witness  of  our  lips, 
it  gives  a  weight  to  our  words  and  a  power  to  our 
persuasions  which  nothing  else  can  give,  and  which, 
while  it  makes  out  reconmiendation  of  the  physi- 
cian of  double  weight,  makes  his  fault  also  double, 
and  doubles  his  responsibility  if  he  reluses  to 
accept  it  and  believe  our  word. 

So  must  the  Christian's  character  harmonise  with 
his  profession,  if  he  would  have  his  testimony  to  the 
power  of  Christ  weighty  and  influential.  The  man 
who  is  known  to  have  been  sick,  and  to  have  been 
to  the  physician,  speaks  of  the  po«  er  of  the  physician 
without  saying  a  word,  simply  by  being  seen  to  be 
in  health.  He  is  a  living,  walking  witness,  and 
cannot  bui  testify  to  all  who  see  him.  So  is  the  re- 
covered sinner — the  Christian  convalescent.  When 
the  lame  man  was  healed,  who  held  Peter  and  John 
as  if  he  would  not  let  them  go,  watched  theii 
prison,  and  followed  them  into  court,  his  very  pre- 
sence, the  very  sight  of  him,  was  evidence  that  no 
one  could  impugn.  The  persecuting  judges,  "be- 
holding the  saaa  that  was  healed,  stantiing  with 
them,  could  say  nothing  against  it."  There  was 
the  man.  Every  one  knew  what  he  once  had  ken 
— every  one  saw  what  he  now  was  ;  and  though  he 


PROFESSION. 


(    664    ) 


PROFESSION. 


laid  noliiing,  the  very  sight  of  him  spoke  loudly 
and  powerfully.  And  every  recovered  Christian, 
by  his  life,  ought  to  speak  as  loudly. 

— Champneys. 

(4.)  Without  this  we  turn  our  very  profession  into 
a  means  of  evil. 

(3934-)  Friend,  beware  how  thou  behavest  thy- 
self in  the  world.  The  snow  makes  a  fair  show  to 
the  eye,  hut  being  melted  it  makes  a  dangerous 
flood.  They  who  "  make  a  fair  show  in  the 
flesli,"  by  walking  offensively  may  cause  such  a 
deluge  as  may  drown  the  souls  of  others. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(3935  )  ^^y  pattern  may  with  some  be  very  pre- 
valent. If  I  shine  with  a  virtuous  life,  I  am  as  a 
lighthouse  set  by '  the  seaside,  whereby  mariners 
sail  aright  and  avoid  dangers,  but  if  I  pretend 
high  and  walk  loosely,  as  a  false  lantern  I  ship- 
wreck those  that  trust  me.        — Swintiock,  1673. 

(3936.)  Oh,  professors,  look  to  your  steps — the 
devil  desires  to  make  use  of  you  for  evil  purposes! 
The  sins  of  others,  who  make  no  profession  of  god- 
liness, will  never  so  fit  liis  purpose  for  the  blinding 
of  men's  eyes,  as  the  least  slip  or  failing  of  yours 
will  do.  It  is  the  living  bird  that  makes  the  best 
snaie  to  draw  others  into  the  net.  The  grossest 
wicicedness  of  profane  sinners  passes  away  in  silence, 
but  all  the  neighbourliood  shall  ring  with  your 
miscarriages.  "  A  righteous  man  falling  ciown  be- 
fore tiie  wicked  is  as  a  troubled  fountain  and  a 
corrupt  spring  "  (Frov.  xxv.  26).  The  scandalous 
falls  of  good  men  are  like  a  bag  of  poison  cast  by 
Satan  into  the  spring  from  whence  the  whole  town 
is  supplied  with  water.  You  little  know  what  mis- 
chief you  may  do,  and  how  many  blind  sinners 
may  fall  into  hell  by  your  occasion. 

—  Havel,  1 630- 1 69 1. 

(3937.)  You  all  know  that  there  are  businesses 
where  it  is  not  possible  for  a  young  man  to  be 
honest  in  the  shop,  where,  if  he  spoke  the  down- 
right truth,  he  would  be  discharged.  Why  is  it, 
think  you,  that  the  system  of  ticketing  goods  in  the 
window  differently  from  what  they  are  sold  indoors, 
or  exhibiting  one  tiling  and  then  giving  another 
article,  the  system  of  telling  white  lies  across  the 
counter  with  the  intention  ot  getting  a  better  price, 
is  maintained?  Why,  it  would  not  stand  an  hour 
if  it  were  not  for  the  professing  Christians  who 
practise  it.  They  have  not  the  moral  courage  to 
say  once  for  all,  "  We  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
these  things."  If  they  did,  if  the  Church  renounced 
these  unholy  customs,  business  would  alter  within 
the  next  twelve  months.  The  props  of  felony,  and 
the  supports  of  roguery  are  these  professing  Chris- 
tian men,  who  bend  their  backs  to  do  as  other 
men  do;  who,  instead  of  stemming  the  torrent, 
give  up,  and  swim  along  with  it — the  dead  fish  in 
our  churches,  that  flow  with  the  stream,  unlike  the 
living  fish  which  always  go  against  it,  and  swim 
upward  to  tlie  river's  source.  — Spurgeon. 

IV.  HOW  ITS  REALITY  IS  TO  BE  TESTED. 
1.  Negative  tests, 

(1.)  Aoi  by  Jin£n:y  of  speech. 

(3938.)  Saul  was  not  a  saint  because  he  did  once 
prophesy,  nor  is  every  one  a  believer  that  talks  of 
faith.  — Ada^-i,  1653. 


(3939-)  Some  professors  are  like  the  eagle  whose 
prey  is  on  earth,  when  she  is  towering  in  the  skies. 
Such  a  generation  there  ever  was  and  will  be  that 
mix  with  the  saints  of  God,  who  pretend  heaven, 
and  have  their  outward  garb  faced  and  fring-'d,  as 
it  were,  wtih  heavenly  speeches,  while  their  liearts 
are  lined  with  hypocrisy. 

— Gurnall,  16 1 7- 1679. 

(2.)  Not  by  outward  show. 

(3940.)  The  profession  of  many  is  like  the 
mountebank's  trunk,  which  his  host  seeing  fairly 
bound  with  a  gaudy  cover,  and  weighty  in  poise, 
had  his  trust  deceived  with  the  rubbish  and  stones 
within,  — Adams,  1653. 

{3941.)  As  a  corpse  may  be  clad  in  rich  clothes, 
so  a  dead  soul  may  be  handsomely  dressed  in  a 
religious  profession.  And  the  son  of  a  beggar  clad 
in  the  garments  of  a  king's  son,  may  as  well  hope 
to  be  heir  of  his  kingdom,  as  thou,  by  a  mere  pro- 
fession, to  inherit  the  glory  of  f 'Od. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(3942.)  As  the  most  florid  people  do  not  always 
enjoy  the  firmest  state  of  health,  so  the  most  showy 
professors  are  not  always  the  holiest  and  most 
substantial  believers.  — Toplady,  1 740- 17 78, 

(3.)  Not  by  regularity  of  attendance  at  public 
worship. 

(3943  )  If  profession  would  serve  the  turn,  and 
flocking  after  sermons,  lieaven  would  soon  be  full ; 
but  as  you  love  your  souls,  do  not  bolt  or  try  your- 
selves by  this  coarse  sieve.  "  Strive  to  enter  the 
strait  gate,  for  many  shall  seek  to  enter,  and  not  be 
able."  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4.)  Not  by  the  blossom,  but  by  the  fruit. 

(3944.)  It  is  with  professors  of  religion,  especially 
such  as  become  so  in  a  time  of  an  outpouring  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  as  it  is  with  the  blossoms  of  the 
spring;  there  are  vast  numbers  of  blossoms  upon 
the  trees,  which  all  look  fair  and  promising  ;  but 
yet  very  many  of  them  never  come  to  anything. 
Many,  in  a  little  time,  wither,  drop  off,  and  rot 
under  the  trees.  Indeed,  for  a  while,  they  look  as 
beautiful  and  gay  as  others  ;  and  not  only  so,  but 
smell  sweet,  and  send  forth  a  pleasant  odour ;  so 
that  we  cannot  certainly  distinguish  those  blossoms 
which  have  in  them  that  secret  virtue  which  will 
afterwards  appear  in  the  fruit.  We  cannot  tell 
which  of  them  have  the  inward  solidity  and  strength 
which  shall  enable  them  to  bear,  and  cause  them 
to  be  perfected  by  the  hot  summer  sun  that  will  dry 
up  the  others.  It  is  the  mature  fruit  which  comes  ■ 
afterwards,  and  not  the  bountiful  colours  and  smell 
of  the  blossoms,  that  we  must  judge  by.  So  new 
converts,  professedly  so,  in  their  talk  about  religious 
things,  may  appear  fair,  and  be  very  savoury,  and 
the  saints  may  think  they  talk  feelingly.  They 
may  relish  their  talk,  and  imagine  they  perceive 
a  divine  savour  in  it  ;  and  yet  all  may  come  to 
nothing.  It  is  strange  how  hardly  men  are  brought 
to  be  contented  with  the  rules  and  directions  Christ 
has  given  them,  but  they  must  needs  go  by  other 
rules  of  their  own  inventing  that  seem  to  them  wiser 
and  better.  I  know  of  no  directions  or  counsels 
which  Christ  ever  delivered  more  plamly,  than  the 
rules  He  has  given  to  guide  us  in  our  judgir.g  of 
others'  sincerity  ;  viz.,  that  we  should  judge  ol  the 
tree  chiefly  by  the  fruit.   — Edwards,  i6^'j-iji6. 


PROFESSION. 


(    665     ) 


PROI^ESSION, 


S.  Positive  tests : — 

(l.)  Spiritual  life. 

(3945.)  How  like  to  a  Christian  a  man  may  be 
and  yet  possess  no  vital  godliness  !  Wallc  tliroiigli 
the  British  Museum,  and  you  will  see  all  the  orders 
of  animals  standing  in  their  various  places,  and  ex- 
hibiting themselves  with  the  utmost  possible  pro- 
priety. The  rhinoceros  demurely  retains  the  position 
in  which  he  was  set  at  first,  the  eagle  soars  not 
through  the  window,  the  wolf  howls  not  at  night  ; 
every  creature,  whether  bird,  beast,  or  fish,  remains 
in  the  particular  glass  case  allotted  to  it ;  but  we 
all  know  that  these  are  not  the  creatures,  but  only 
the  outward  semblances  of  them.  Yet  in  what  do 
they  differ?  Certainly  in  nothing  which  you  could 
readily  see,  for  the  well-stuffed  animal  is  precisely 
like  what  the  living  animal  would  have  been  ;  and 
that  eye  of  glass  even  appears  to  have  more  of 
brightness  in  it  than  the  natural  eye  of  the  creature 
itself;  there  is  a  secret  inward  something  lacking, 
which,  when  it  has  once  departed,  you  cannot  re- 
store. So  in  the  churches  of  Christ,  many  professors 
are  not  living  believers,  but  stuffed  Christians. 
They  possess  all  the  externals  of  religion,  and  every 
outward  morality  that  you  could  desire  ;  they  be- 
have with  great  propriety,  they  keep  their  places, 
and  there  is  no  outward  difference  between  them 
and  the  true  believer,  except  upon  the  vital  point, 
the  life  which  no  power  on  earth  can  possibly  con- 
fer. There  is  this  essential  distinction,  spiritual  life 
is  absent.  — Spurgeon. 

(3946.)  "Do  you  not  admire  us?"  said  the  arti- 
ficial tlower  under  the  glass  shade,  to  the  bright  ray 
of  sunshine  which  chanced  just  then  to  come  into 
tlie  room. 

"  I  love  whatever  is  true  and  beautiful,"  answered 
the  sunshine;  "but  you  are  not  really  what  you 
seem  ;  you  have  colour  without  fragrance,  and  form 
without  life  ;  and  though  you  appear  of  the  same 
family  with  the  flowers  of  nature,  which  I  love  to 
look  on  and  so  oiten  visit,  you  are  but  imitations 
of  the  tiue,  and  therefore  only  a  show  and  sham, 
however  beautiful  you  appear  uuto  tlie  eye." 

Artilicial  piety  of  a  very  beautiful  form  may  some- 
times present  itself  to  view,  and  of  so  perfect  resem- 
blance to  the  true  grace  of  God  as  to  deceive  all 
mankind. 

But  profession  without  spiritual  life  cannot  but 
be  detected  by  God  ;  and,  while  passing  by  the 
beautiful  representations  which  please  and  attract 
the  natural  mind,  His  eye  observes  and  His  love 
visits  the  sincere,  saying  :  "  I'o  this  man  will  I  look, 
even  to  him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and 
trembleth  at  My  word  "  (Isa.  Ixvi.  2). 

— Bowden. 

(2.)  Love  to  God. 

(3947.)  Many  a  professor,  who  dwells  where  the 
fuJl-orbed  splendour  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
shines  around  him,  and  in  a  genial  climate,  yet 
more  resembles  a  native  of  Iceland  or  Lapland. 
Vou  would  suppose  that  for  more  than  half  his  time 
he  v\as  not  permitted  to  see  the  sun.  A  moral 
winter  apjiears  to  rest  upon  his  soul.  What  is  the 
state  of  their  hearts  towards  God?  Are  they  not 
cold  and  barren  as  the  winter  season?  What  fruits 
do  we  see  adorning  their  profession?  Or  rather  it 
may  be  asketl,  are  they  not  like  so  many  bare  and 
leafless  branches  of  the  snow-clad  forest,  through 
which  the  gusts  of  pnde  and  passion  sweeip   with 


relentless  fury,  and  upon  which  the  dews  and  showers 
of  gospel  grace  produce  but  the  cold  icicles  of  vanity, 
sin,  and  death  ?  Are  there  not  others  whose  profes- 
sion is  little  better  than  a  mantle  of  snow,  beautiiul 
and  dazzling  to  the  eye  for  a  short  time,  but  soon 
melting  and  vanishing  into  its  native  element  ? 

— Salter, 

(3. )  Longings  after  holiness. 

{3948.)  Many  men  that  make  a  profession  are 
like  kites,  which  ascend  high,  but  look  low.  But 
those  that  look  high  as  they  ascend  high  are  risen 
with  Christ.  For  a  Christian  being  once  in  the 
estate  of  grace,  he  forgets  what  is  behind,  and  looks 
upon  ascending  higher  and  higher,  till  he  be  in  his 
place  of  happiness.  — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(4.)  Real  conflict  with  evil. 

(3949.)  As  at  Christ's  rising  there  was  an  earth- 
quake, so  such  as  are  risen  with  Him  do  find  a 
commotion  and  division  between  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit.  —Sibbes,  1 577- 1 635. 

(3950.)  As  it  is  with  the  fighting  of  two  fencers 
on  the  stage,  you  would  think  at  first  they  were  in 
earnest  ;  but,  observing  how  wary  they  are  where 
they  hit  one  another,  you  may  soon  know  they  do 
not  intend  to  kill  one  another,  and  that  which  puts 
all  out  of  doubt,  when  the  prize  is  done  you  shall 
see  them  merry  together,  sharing  what  they  got  from 
their  deluded  spectators,  which  was  all  they  sought 
for.  Thus  you  shall  have  a  carnal  man,  a  man  in  the 
state  of  uniegeneracy,  make  a  great  bustle  against 
sin,  by  complaining  of  it  or  praying  against  it,  so 
that  there  seems  to  be  a  great  scuffle  betwixt  Satan 
and  such  a  soul  ;  but  if  you  follow  him  off  the  stage 
of  duty  (where  he  has  gained  the  reputation  of  a 
saint,  the  prize  he  sought  for),  you  shall  see  the 
devil  and  him  sit  as  friendly  in  a  corner  as  ever. 
—  Curna/l,  161 7-1679. 

(^951.)  If  Job  had  let  Satan  carry  away  his  good 
cofiscience,  he  would  soon  have  unbound  him,  and 
let  him  have  his  estate  anil  children  again.  It  is  not 
a  fornr.  of  rengion,  but  its  power,  that  the  devil 
maligns.  The  profession  of  Judas,  Satan  knew,  did 
not  put  him  a  step  out  of  his  way  to  hell.  The 
devil  can  live  very  peaceably,  as  a  quiet  neighbour, 
by  the  door  of  such  as  will  content  themselves  with 
an  empty  profession  ;  this  alters  not  his  property, 
nor  touches  his  copyhold.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(5.)  Purity  of  heart. 

(3952.)  When  the  earth  is  broken  up,  and  a  filthy 
stench  comes  out,  argues  it  not  that  there  was  some 
dead  corpse  there  ?  So  when  men  rend  out  cursings, 
swearings,  railings,  and  such  like  that  a  man  should 
not  be  able  to  endure,  from  whence  issue  these,  but 
from  a  dead  and  rotten  soul  ?  These  carry  about 
them  then  the  grave  and  sepulchre  of  the  soul. 
Now,  that  which  is  said  of  the  words  may  be 
applied  to  the  works.  As  a  man,  therefore,  coming 
to  a  tomb,  though  never  so  costly,  and  curiously,  or 
so  royally  decked,  yet  if  at  some  vent  he  apprehend 
a  filthy  savour  issuing  out  of  it,  he  knows  well  there 
is  not  only  a  dead,  but  a  rotten  carcass  within  ;  so 
when  a  man  feels  a  filthy  and  unwholesome  scent, 
either  of  profane  speech  or  of  dissolute  life,  issuing 
from  the  heart,  which  is  the  fountain  of  both,  he 
must  needs  conclude,  neither  is  it  against  charily  to 
censure  it,  that  there  is  a  soul  not  only  dead  and 
buried,    but    even   rotten    in   sin   and   corruption. 


PROFESSION. 


(    666    ) 


PROFESS/ON. 


Therefore  let  no  man  delude  himself  while  he 
would  deceive  others,  to  beat  men  in  hand  that  he  is 
sound  at  heart,  when  he  is  unsound  and  corrupt  in 
his  life,  as  if  a  man  might  he  jjersuaded  that  it  is  a 
vine  or  fig-tree  which  he  sees  hanging  full  of  crabs 
and  wildmgs.  — Siock,  1568-1626. 

(3953)  r'eople  who  profess  to  believe  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Gospel,  and  yet  do  not  experience  the 
power  of  those  doctrines  unto  sanctihcation,  re- 
semble a  man  who  looks  over  a  hedge  into  a  garden 
without  going  into  it.         — Toplady^  1 740- 1778. 

(6.)  Consistency  of  conduct. 

(3954.)  As  the  sails  of  a  shiy>,  when  they  are 
spread  and  swollen,  and  the  way  that  the  ship 
make-;,  shows  me  the  wind,  where  it  is,  though  the 
wind  itself  be  an  invi-ibie  thing,  so  thy  actions  to- 
morrow, and  the  life  thou  leadest  all  the  year,  will 
show  me  with  what  mind  thou  camest  to  the  sacra- 
ment to-day,  though  only  God,  and  not  1,  can  see 
thy  mind.  — Z><7«Mtf,  1573-1631. 

(3955.)  His  religion  is  in  vain,  whose  profession 
brings  not  letters  testimonial  from  a  holy  life. 
Sacrifice  without  obedience  is  sacrilege. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

{3956.)  Thou  callest  thyself  Christian  ;  but  we 
question  whether  thou  hast  a  right  to  the  title;  thy 
conduct  is  too  contrary  to  that  sacred  name,  which 
is  too  holy  to  be  written  on  a  rotten  post. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(7.)  Patience  under  provocation. 

(3957. )  Some  professors  pass  for  very  meek,  good- 
natured  people,  until  you  displease  them.  They 
resemble  a  pool  or  pond,  which,  while  you  let  it 
alone,  looks  clear  and  limpid  ;  but,  if  you  put  in  a 
stick  and  stir  the  bottom,  the  rising  sediment  soon 
discovers  the  impurity  that  lurks  beneath. 

—  Top  lady,  1740-1778. 

(8.)  Steadfastness  under  persecution. 

(395S.)  Some  fresh-watei  sailer,  standing  upon 
the  sliure  in  a  fair  day,  and  beholding  the  ship's 
top  and  top-gallant  sail  in  all  their  bravery,  riding 
safely  at  anchor,  thinks  it  a  brave  thing  to  go  to 
sea,  and  will  by  all  means  aboard  ;  but  being  out  a 
league  or  two  from  the  harbour,  and  leeling  by  the 
rocking  of  the  ship  his  siomacli  begin  to  work,  and 
his  soul  even  to  abhor  all  manner  of  meat — or 
otherwise  a  storm  to  arise,  the  wind  and  the  sea,  as 
it  were,  conspiring  the  sinking  of  the  vessel — forth- 
with repents  ids  folly,  and  makes  vows  that  if  he 
but  once  be  set  ashore  again  he  will  bid  an  eternal 
farewell  to  all  such  voyages.  And  thus  there  be 
many  faint-hearted  Christians  to  be  found  amongst 
us,  who,  in  calm  days  of  peace,  when  religion  is 
not  overclouded  by  the  times,  will  needs  join  them- 
«elves  to  the  number  of  the  people  of  God  ;  they 
will  be  as  earnest  and  as  forward  as  the  best,  and 
who  but  they  ?  yet,  let  but  a  tempest  begin  to 
apjiear  and  the  sea  to  grow  rougher  than  at  the 
first  entry,  the  times  alter,  troubles  raised,  many 
cross  minds  of  opposition  and  gainsaying  begin  to 
blow,  tricy  are  weary  of  their  course,  and  will  to 
shore  again,  resolving  never  to  thrust  themselves 
Into  any  more  adventures  :  they  would  have  Chris- 
tum, but  not  Christum  crucijixum-  (Christ  they 
would  have  by  ill  means,  but  Chris;  crucified  by 


no  means).  Tf  the  way  to  heaven  be  by  the  gates 
of  iiell,  let  who  will  they  will  not  go  that  way  ;  they 
rather  sit  down  and  be  quiet.       — Spencer,  1658. 

(3959.)  \On  a  glow-worm.'\  What  a  cold  candle 
is  lighted  up,  in  the  body  of  this  soriy  worm  I 
There  needs  no  other  disproof  of  those  that  say 
there  is  no  light  at  all  without  some  heat.  Yet 
sure,  an  outward  heat  helps  on  this  cool  light : 
never  did  I  see  any  of  these  bright  worms,  but  in 
the  hot  months  of  summer  :  in  cold  seasons,  either 
they  are  not,  or  appear  not  ;  when  the  nights  ate 
both  darkest,  and  longest,  and  most  uncomfortable. 

Thus  do  false-hearted  Christians  :  in  the  warm 
and  lightsome  times  of  free  and  encouraged  pro- 
fession, none  shine  more  than  they  :  in  hard  and 
gloomy  seasons  of  restraint  and  persecution,  all 
their  formal  light  is  either  lost  or  hid.  Whereas 
true  professors,  either,  like  tiie  sun,  shine  ever 
alike  ;  or,  like  the  stars,  shine  fairest  in  the 
frostiest  nights.  The  light  of  this  worm  is  for 
some  show,  but  for  no  use :  any  light  that  is 
attended  with  heat  can  inijiart  itself  t<»  others, 
though  with  the  expense  of  that  subject  wherein  it 
is;  this  doth  neither  waste  itself,  nor  help  others. 
1  would  rather  never  to  have  light,  than  not  to 
have  it  always  ;  I  would  rather  not  to  have  light, 
than  not  to  communicate  it. 

— Hall,  1 574-1656. 

(3960.)  Many  men  owe  their  religion  not  to 
grace,  but  to  the  favour  of  the  times  ;  'tis  in  fashion, 
they  may  profess  it  at  a  cheap  rate,  because  none 
contradict  it.  Indeed  it  shows  they  are  extremely 
bad  that  are  bad  when  they  may  be  good  without 
any  loss  to  themselves,  but  it  does  not  show  they 
are  good  that  are  only  good  in  good  times.  Dead 
fish  swim  with  the  stream.  They  do  not  b'lild 
upon  the  rock,  imt  set  up  a  shed  leaning  to  another 
man's  house,  which  costs  them  nothing  ;  carried 
with  a  multitude,  are  not  able  to  go  alone  in  a 
good  way ;  if  they  be  religious,  it  is  for  others' 
sakes.  'I'hen  is  integrity  discovered,  when  persons 
dare  be  good  in  bad  times,  as  Noah  was  said  to  be 
an  upright  man,  because  he  was  perfect  in  his 
generation.  — Manton,  1620- 1667. 

(9.)  Diligence  in  well-doing. 

(3961.')  Our  pro'ession  without  practice  is  but 
hypocritical,  making  us  to  resemble  the  stony 
ground,  which  brought  forth  a  green  blade,  but  no 
Iruit  to  due  maturity  ;  like  the  fig-tree,  which, 
having  leaves  iiut  no  figs,  was  accursed  ;  like  the 
tree  in  the  garden,  which,  cumbering  the  ground 
with  its  fruitless  presence,  was  threatened  to  be  cut 
down  ;  like  glowwonns,  which  have  some  lustre 
but  no  heat, — seeing  such  professors  shine  with 
some  light  of  knowleilge,  but  without  all  warmth 
of  Christian  charity.  Neither  is  that  "  pure  reli- 
gion and  undetilcd  before  God "  which,  like  an 
empty  barrel,  makes  a  great  sound  in  an  outward 
prolcssion,  but  that  which  exercises  itself  in  duties 
of  Christianity.  — Downame,  1642. 

(3962.)  As  one  said  of  a  poor  apothecary's  shop, 
that  he  couid  find  no  drugs  for  the  pots  and  boxes, 
so  it  may  be  said  of  those  that  pretend  to  religion, 
and  no  further,  we  cannot  perceive  good  deeds  for 
words.  Or  as  when  Jacob  looked  for  Joseph,  he 
found  nothing  but  his  coat ;  so,  while  we  look  for 
honest  men,  we  see  nothing  but  their  cloak :  only 


PROFESSION. 


(    667     ) 


PROFESSION. 


a  cloak  of  a   good  nap,   and  a  fair   gloss  of  pro- 
fession ;  that  is  all.  — Atianis,  1653. 

(3963.)  It  is  no  good  sign  in  a  tree,  when  all  the 
s.ip  goes  up  into  the  leaves,  and  is  spent  that  way  ; 
nor  in  a  Christian,  when  all  his  grace  shoots  up 
into  words  :  a  verbal  goodness ;  no  reality  at  all. 

— Adat/is,  1653. 

(3964.)  When  the  Interpreter  had  done,  he  takes 
them  out  into  his  garden  again,  and  led  them  to  a 
tree,  whose  inside  was  all  rotten  and  gone,  and 
yet  it  grew  and  had  leaves.  Then  .«aid  Mercy, 
"What  means  this?"  "This  tree,"  said  he, 
"  whose  o\itsii-le  is  fair,  and  whose  inside  is  rotten, 
is  it  to  which  many  may  be  compared  that  are  in 
the  garden  of  God  ;  who  with  their  mouths  speak 
high  in  behalf  of  God,  but  in  deed  will  do  nothing 
for  Him  ;  whose  leaves  are  fair,  but  their  heart  good 
for  nothing,  but  to  be  tinder  for  the  devil's  tinder- 
box."  — Bunyan,  1628-1688. 

( 10. )  Growth  in  grace. 

(3965.)  If  we  be  true  Christians,  we  must  grow 
from  strength  to  strength  :  herein  grace  is  contrary  to 
nature,  strongest  at  la^t.  We  must  change  till  then, 
but  in  meluis,  till  we  come  to  our  best  ;  and  then,  we 
must  be  like  Him  in  whom  is  no  shadow  of  turnmg. 

But,  where  we  should  be  like  the  sun  till  noon, 
ever  rising,  there  be  many  like  Hczekiah's  sun, 
that  go  back  many  degrees  in  the  dial ;  whose 
beginnings  are  like  Nero's  first  five  years,  full  of 
hope  and  peace  ;  or,  like  the  first  month  of  a  new 
servant ;  or,  like  unto  the  four  age.s,  whose  first 
was  gold,  the  last  iron  ;  or,  to  Nebuchadnezzar's 
image,  which  had  a  precious  head  but  base  feet. 
Look  to  yourselves  :  this  is  a  fearful  sign,  a  fearful 
condition.  Can  he  ever  be  rich  that  grows  every 
day  poorer?.  Can  he  ever  reach  the  goal  that 
goes  every  day  a  step  back  from  it  ?  Alas  1  then, 
how  shall  he  ever  reach  the  goal  of  glory  that  goes 
every  day  a  step  backward  in  grace?        — JJall. 

(II.)  Perseverance. 

(3966.)  Men  that  have  not  depth  of  grace,  they 
are  like  comets.  They  blaze  for  a  time.  But 
fixed  stars  are  always  in  the  firmament  ;  they 
never  vary.  So  a  true  Christian  is  as  a  fixed  star 
— he  is  fixed  in  ihe  firmament,  in  his  desire.  "One 
thing  have  I  desired,  that  I  may  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of  my  life." 

— Sibbei,  1 577-1635. 

{3967.)  Some  dyes  cannot  bear  the  weather,  but 
alter, colour  presently;  but  there  are  others  that, 
having  something  that  gives  a  deeper  tincture, 
will  hold.  The  graces  of  a  true  Christian  hold 
out  in  all  sorts  of  weathers,  in  winter  and  summer, 
prosperity  and  adversity,  when  sujierficial  counter- 
feit holiness  will  give  out.       — Siddes,  1577-1635. 

(3968.)  The  leopard  doth  not  run  after  his  prey 
like  other  beasts,  but  pursues  it  by  leaping  ;  and 
if  at  three  or  four  jumps  he  cannot  seize  it,  for 
very  indignation  he  gives  over  the  chase.  There 
be  some,  that  if  they  cannot  leap  into  heaven 
by  a  few  good  works,  they  will  even  lei  it  alone ; 
as  if  it  were  to  be  ascended  by  lea])ing,  not  by 
climbing.  But  they  are  more  unwise,  that  having 
got  up  uiany  rounds  of  Jacob's  ladder,  and  finding 
difficulties  in  some  of  the  uppermost ;  whether 
wrestling   with  assaults  and    trouble^   or  looking 


down  upon  their  old  allurements ;  even  fairly 
descend  with  Demas,  and  allow  others  to  take 
heaven.  — Adams,  1653. 

(3969.)  [On  the  sight  of  a  gliding  star.]  IIow 
easily  is  our  sight  deceived  I  how  easily  doth  our 
sight  deceive  us  !  We  saw  no  difference  betwixt 
this  star  and  the  rest  ;  the  light  seemed  alike,  both 
while  it  stood  and  while  it  fell.  Had  it  been  a 
star,  it  had  still  and  ever  shined  :  now,  the  very 
fall  argues  it  a  lalse  and  elementary  apparition. 

Thus  our  charily  doth  and  must  mislead  us  in 
our  spiritual  judgments.  If  we  see  men  exalted  in 
their  Christian  profession,  fixed  in  the  upper  region 
of  the  Church,  shining  with  appearances  of  grace, 
we  may  not  think  them  other  than  stars  in  this 
lower  firmament  ;  but,  if  they  fall  from  their  holy 
station,  and  embrace  the  present  world,  whether  in 
judgment  or  practice  renouncing  the  truth  and 
jjower  of  godliness,  now  we  may  boldly  say  they 
had  never  any  true  light  in  them,  and  were  no  other 
than  a  glittering  composition  of  pride  and  hypocrisy. 
— hall,  1574-1656. 

(3970.)  Constancy  is  a  mark  of  the  true  Christian. 
The  seeming  graces  of  hypocrites  may  be  as  forward 
and  impetuous  for  the  time  as  the  true  graces  of 
believers  :  as  in  the  stony  ground  (Matt.  xiii.  5,  6), 
the  seed  sprung  up  so  much  the  sooner  by  how  much 
it  had  the  less  depth  of  earth.  But  the  very  same 
cause  that  made  it  put  up  so  soon,  made  it  wither 
again  as  soon,  even  because  it  wanted  deepness  of 
earth.  So  the  hypocrite,  when  the  fit  takes  him, 
he  is  all  on  the  spur  ;  there  is  no  way  with  him, 
but  a  new  man  he  will  become  out  of  hand  ;  yea, 
that  he  will  :  tnomento  turl/inis.  But  he  sets  on  too 
violently  to  hold  out  long  ;  this  reformation  ripens 
too  fast  to  be  right  spiritual  fruit.  As  an  horse 
that  is  good  at  hand,  l>ut  nought  at  length,  so  is 
the  hypocrite ;  free  and  fiery  for  a  spurt,  but  he 
jades  and  tires  in  a  journey  But  true  grace  is  all  to 
the  contrary  ;  as  it  ripens  for  the  most  part  by 
leisure,  so  it  ever  lasts  longer:  as  philosophers  say 
of  habits,  that  as  they  arc  gotten  hardly,  so  they  are 
not  lost  easily.  The  faith,  repentance,  reformation, 
obedience,  joy,  sorrow,  zeal,  and  other  the  graces 
and  afifections  of  hypocrites  have  their  first  motion 
and  issue  from  false  and  erroneous  grounds,  as 
shame,  fear,  hope,  and  such  respects.  And  it 
thence  comes  to  pass  that,  where  these  respects 
cease  to  give  them  motion,  the  graces  themselves 
can  no  more  stand  than  a  house  can  stand  when 
the  foundation  is  taken  from  under  it.  The  boy 
that  goes  to  his  book  no  longer  than  the  master 
holds  the  rod  over  him  ;  the  master's  back  once 
turned,  away  goes  the  book,  and  he  to  play  ;  and 
right  so  is  it  with  the  hypocrite.  Take  away  the 
rod  from  Pharaoh,  and  he  will  be  old  Pharaoh 
stilL  Now,  then,  here  is  a  wide  difference  between 
the  hypocrite  and  the  godly  man  :  the  one  does  all 
by  fits  and  by  starts,  and  by  sudden  motions  and 
flashes ;  whereas  the  other  goes  on  fairly  and 
soberly  in  a  settled,  constant,  regular  course  of 
humiliation  and  obedience. 

— Sanderson,  1 587-1662. 

(3971.)  It  is  not  one  or  two  good  actions,  but  a 
good  conversation,  which  will  speak  a  man  to  be  a 
right  Christian.  A  true  believer,  like  the  heavenly 
oros,  is  constant  and  unwearied  in  his  motion  and 
actings.     Enoch   "walked  with   God;"   it  is  out 


PROFESSION. 


(    668    ) 


PROSPER!  ry. 


taking  a  step  or  two  in  a  way  which  denominates 
a  man  a  xvalker,  but  a  continued  motit)n.  No 
man  is  judged  healthy  by  a  flushing  colour  in  his 
face,  but  by  a  good  complexion.  God  esteems 
none  holy  lor  a  particular  carriage,  but  for  a 
general  course.  A  sinner  in  some  few  acts  may 
be  very  good  :  Judas  repents,  Cain  sacrifices,  the 
Scribes  pray  and  fast  ;  and  yet  all  were  very  false. 
In  the  most  deadly  diseases,  there  may  be  some 
intermissions,  and  some  good  prognostics.  A  saint 
in  some  few  acts  may  be  very  bad  :  Noah  is 
drunk,  David  defiles  his  neighbour's  wife,  and 
Peter  denies  his  best  friend  ;  yet  ihese  persons 
were  Heaven's  favourite-;.  The  best  gold  must 
liave  some  grains  of  allowance.  Sheep  may  fall 
into  the  mire,  but  swine  love  day  and  niglit  to 
wallow  in  it.  A  Christian  may  stumble,  nay,  he 
may  fall,  but  he  gets  up  and  walks  on  in  the  way 
of  God's  commandments  ;  the  bent  of  his  heart  is 
right,  and  the  scope  of  his  life  is  straight,  and 
thence  he  is  deemed  sincere.     — Swinnock,  1673. 

(3972.)  They  are  beautiful  colours  that  are  drawn 
on  some  [irofessurs,  but,  alas  1  not  laid  on  oil,  and 
so  are  soon  washed  off  again.  How  forward  soever 
they  are  to  promise  they  shall  reach  heaven,  they 
will  find  it  too  long  a  step  for  their  short-winded 
souls.  — Gumall,  161 7-1679. 

(3973.)  Many  are  soon  engaged  in  holy  duties, 
easily  persuaded  to  take  up  a  profession  of  religion, 
and  as  easily  persuaded  to  lay  it  down  ;  like  the 
new  moon,  which  shines  a  little  in  the  first  part  of 
the  night,  but  is  down  before  half  the  night  be 
gone  ;  lightsome  professors  in  their  youth,  whose 
old  age  is  wrapped  up  in  thick  darkness  of  sin  and 
wickedness.  — Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(3974.)  What  congregation  cannot  show  some 
that  have  outlived  iheir  profession?  Not  unlike 
the  silk-worm,  which,  they  say,  after  all  her  spin- 
ning, works  herself  out  of  her  bottom,  and  becomes 
a  common  fly.  As  the  disciples  said  of  the  literal 
temple,  "  See  what  manner  of  stones  are  here,"  so 
we  once  said  of  the  spiritual  temple  ;  but  now  not 
one  stone  upon  another.    — Gumall,  161 7-1679. 

(3975-)  Nay,  sometime  those  motions  in  natural 
men  under  ihe  Gospel  may  be  more  quick,  and 
warm,  and  violent  for  a  time  than  the  natural 
motion  of  this  habit ;  as  the  motion  of  a  stone  out 
of  a  sling  is  quicker  than  that  of  life,  but  faints  by 
degrees,  because  it  is  from  a  force  impressed,  not 
implanted  and  inherent  in  the  nature.  They  are 
just  like  water  heated  by  the  fire,  which  has  a  fit 
of  warmth,  and  may  heat  other  things  ;  but  though 
you  should  heat  it  a  thousand  times,  the  quality, 
not  being  natural,  will  vanish,  and  the  water  return 
to  its  former  coldness.  But  the  new  heart  being  in 
the  new  creature  causes  him  to  walk  in  the  statutes 
of  God,  not  by  fits  and  starts,  but  ^\  ith  an  uniform 
and  harmonical  motion.  — Charnock,  162S-16S0. 

(3976.)  "  This  is  something  like  !  "  observed  the 
Hearth  to  the  Chimney,  as  the  Thorns  flamed  and 
crackled  in  the  spacious  fire-place  of  the  farm-house  ; 
whilst  the  steam  gushed  out  Irom  under  the  lid  of 
the  pot  hanging  over  the  fire,  and  the  water  boiled 
and  spluttered,  owing  to  the  sudden  increase  of 
flame.  "Beautiful,  beautiful  I "  exclaimed  the 
Hearth,  in  admiration. 

"I'm  of  opinion  this  won't  last  long ;  it  seems  to 


me  to  be  too  rapid  to  continue.  Depend  on  it,  friend 
lleanh,  'twill  soon  go  down  and  be  burnt  out," 
sagely  remarked  the  old  Chimney. 

"  Do  you  think  so? — well,  'twill  be  a  great  pity 
not  to  last  ;  I  love  to  see  briskness  in  a  fire ;  and 
this  is  so  exciting  and  charming  !  I  don't  see  why 
it  should  so  quickly  end,  as  you  suppose." 

"  Well,  I've  had  some  experience  in  these 
matters,"  answered  the  Chimney  ;  "  I've  made  my 
observations,  and  am  too  well  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  fuel  to  be  deceived  by  it ;  and,  however 
sanguine  you  may  feel  about  it,  take  my  honest 
word,  it  will  not  last  !  " 

Still,  however,  the  fire  flamed,  and  the  water 
boiled,  and  the  steam  spurted,  and  the  hot  splashes 
fizzed,  leaped  about,  and  dropt  down  upon  the 
crackling  flame. 

"  I  am  delighted  !"  said  the  Hearth. 

"  And  I  shall  rejoice  if  it  continues,"  said  the 
Chimney. 

"And  why  it  should  not,  I  am  unable  to  judge," 
observed  the  other. 

"  We  shan't  need  to  wait  long,  however,"  con« 
tinned  the  old  Chimney;  "don't  you  perceive  \i 
is  already  going  down?" — and  before  the  Hearth 
could  reply  there  was  a  marked  change ;  and 
ebullition  ceased  ;  the  steam  subsided  ;  the  flame 
flickered  ;  the  fire  only  occasionally  leaped  ;  and 
then,  it  went  lower,  and  went  quite  down  j  and 
then  quite  out  altogether. 

"  \Vell,  to  be  sure  1 "  said  the  disappointed 
Hearth. 

"  No  other  than  I  expected,"  remarked  the 
Chimney  ;  "  and  lor  this  reason,  there  was  nothing 
substantial  in  the  material,  only  thorns  you  see, 
which  commonly  make  a  great  flame  for  the  time, 
but  quickly  burn  themselves  out." 

"  'Tis  a  great  pity  1  "  sighed  the  Hearth  ;  "  who 
would  have  thought  it  !  " 

"  As  the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot,  so  is 
the  laughter  of  the  fool  :  this  also  is  vanity," 
writes  Solomon.  And  so  it  is  with  a  profession  of 
religion  in  some  instances  ;  it  is  flaming,  and  bright, 
and  beautiful  for  a  while,  and  calling  special  atten- 
tion ;  but  it  does  not  last :  it  is  not  of  a  nature  to 
be  lasting,  only  "  the  form  of  godliness,"  without 
the  "power  thereof;"  and  like  the  seed  cast  on 
the  rocky  soil,  which  spiang  up  quickly,  but  soon 
withered  away,  because  it  had  no  deepness  of  earth, 
so  without  Divine  grace  in  the  heart  profession  can- 
not be  enduring.  There  may  appear  to  be  much  of 
excitement,  fervency,  and  zeal  for  a  while,  but  it 
will  eventually  cool  down  and  expire  ;  because,  like 
the  thorns  under  the  pot,  having  no  substance 
(Mark  iv.  1 7).  — Bowden. 


PROSPERITY. 

1.  Is  not  necessarily  a   proof  of  the   Divine 

favotir. 

(3977-)  As  men  cherish  young  plants  at  first,  and 
fence  them  about  to  keep  them  from  hurt,  but 
when  they  are  grown,  they  remove  them,  and  then 
leave  them  to  the  wind  and  weather,  so  God  besets 
His  children  first  with  props  of  inward  comforts, 
but  afterwards  exposes  them  to  storms  and  v\inds, 
because  they  are  better  able  to  bear  it.  Therefore 
let  no  man  think  himself  the  better  because  he  is 
free  from  troubles.  It  is  because  God  sees  him  not 
fit  to  bear  greater.  — i>ibbes,  1 577-1635. 


PROSPERITY. 


(    669     ) 


PROSPERITY. 


(3978.)  When  the  Lord  hath  set  thee  up  as  high 
as  Hainan  in  the  court  of  Ahasuerus,  or  promoted 
thee  to  ride  with  Joseph  in  the  second  chariot  of 
Egypt ;  were  thy  stock  of  cattle  exceeding  Job's 
(Job  i.  3);  did  thy  wardrobe  put  down  Solomon's, 
and  thy  cupboard  of  plate  iJelshazzar's,  when  the 
vessels  of  God's  temple  were  the  ornature, — yet  all 
these  are  but  the  gilts  of  Wisdom's  left  hand,  and 
the  possessors  may  be  under  the  malediction  of 
God,  and  go  down  to  damnation. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(3979.)  The  eagles  and  lions  seek  their  meat 
from  God.  But  though  all  the  sons  of  Jacob  have 
good  cheer  fiom  Joseph,  yet  Benjamin's  mess 
exceeds.  Esau  shall  have  the  prosperity  of  the 
earth,  but  Jacob  goes  away  with  the  blessing. 
Ishmael  may  have  outward  favours,  but  the  inherit- 
ance belongs  to  Isaac.  — A  Jams,  1653. 

(3980.)  No  man  knows  how  the  heart  of  God 
stands  toward  him  by  His  hand.  His  hand  of 
mercy  mr.y  be  toward  a  man  when  His  heart  may 
be  against  that  man,  as  you  see  in  the  case  of  Saul 
and  others.  AnJ  the  hand  of  God  may  be  set 
against  a  man  when  the  heart  of  God  is  dearly  set 
upon  him,  as  you  may  see  in  Job  and  Ephraim. 
No  man  knowi  either  love  or  hatred  by  outward 
mercy  or  misery ;  for  all  things  come  alike  to  all, 
to  the  righteous  and  the  unrighteous,  to  the  good 
and  to  the  bad,  to  the  clean  and  to  the  unclean. 
The  sun  of  prosperity  shines  as  well  upon  brambles 
of  the  wilderness,  as  fruit-trees  of  the  orchard  ;  the 
Bnow  and  hail  of  adversity  light  upon  the  best 
garden,  as  well  as  upon  the  stinking  dunghill  or  the 
wild  waste.  Ahab's  and  Josiah's  ends  concur  in 
the  very  circumstances.  Saul  and  Jonathan,  though 
different  in  their  natures,  deserts,  and  deportments, 
yet  in  their  deaths  they  were  not  divided.  Health, 
wealth,  honours,  crosses,  sicknesses,  losses,  are  cast 
upon  good  men  and  bad  men  promiscuously. 
"  I'he  whole  Turkish  empire,"  says  Luther,  "is 
nothing  else  but  a  crust  cast  by  heaven's  great 
Housekeeper  to  His  dogs."  Moses  dies  in  the 
wilderness  as  well  as  those  that  murmured.  Nabal 
is  rich  as  well  as  Abraham ;  Ahithophel  wise  as 
well  as  Solomon,  and  Doeg  is  honoured  as  well  as 
Saul,  as  well  as  Joseph  and  Pharaoh. 

— Brooks,  1680. 

2.  Renders  It  dlffictilt  for  us  to  assure  otirselves 
that  we  have  the  friendship  of  men. 

(3981.)  Prosperity  assures  us  not  of  the  favour  of 
men.  Yea,  rather  it  makes  us  utterly  uncertain 
who 'are  our  friends,  and  who  are  not.  For  they 
who  flourish  in  the  world  have  many  friends  in 
show,  and  few  in  truth,  seeing  they  are  friends  to 
their  prosperity,  and  not  to  themselves ;  they 
honour  their  places,  and  not  their  persons.  It  is 
the  idol  of  wealth  which  the  crowd  adores,  and  not 
the  ass  that  bears  it.  It  is  the  honey  of  profit 
which  these  hungry  flies  haunt,  and  not  the  pot 
that  keeps  it ;  which  being  clean  washed,  and  the 
honey  put  into  another  ve.ssel,  they  straightv/ay  leave 
that,  and  as  easily  follow  this.  It  is  not  the  man, 
but  the  money  that  is  affected  ;  and  so  long  as  they 
banquet,  feast,  and  sport  together,  they  make  great 
love  and  friendship  one  to  another ;  but  let  the 
bond  of  pleasure  be  once  broken  by  want  or  sick- 
ness, and  these  friends  are  straightway  scattered. 
— Dcrwnamc,  1644. 


3.  Is  a  test  of  character. 

(3982.)  It  is  in  the  relaxation  of  security,  it  is  in 
the  expansion  of  prosperity,  it  is  in  the  hour  of 
dilatation  of  the  heart,  and  of  its  softening  into 
festivity  and  pleasure,  that  the  real  character  of 
men  is  discerned.  If  there  is  any  good  in  tliem,  it 
appears  then  or  never.  Even  wolves  and  tigers, 
when  gorged  with  their  prey,  aie  safe  and  gentle. 
It  is  at  such  times  that  noble  minds  give  all  thj 
reins  to  their  good  nature.  They  indulge  their 
genius  even  to  intemperance,  in  kindness  to  the 
afflicted,  in  generosity  to  the  conquered, — forbear- 
ing insults,  forgiving  injuries,  overpaying  benefits. 
Full  of  dignity  themselves,  they  respect  dignity  in 
all,  but  they  feel  it  sacred  to  the  unhappy.  But  it 
is  then,  and  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  unmerited 
fortune,  that  low,  sordid,  ungenerous,  and  reptile 
souls  swell  with  their  hoarded  poisons ;  it  is  then 
that  they  display  their  odious  splendour,  and  shine 
out  in  the  tull  lustre  of  their  native  villany  and 
baseness.  — Burke,  172S-1797. 

(3983.)  Prosperity  is  a  more  refined  and  severe 
test  of  character  than  adversity,  as  one  hour  of 
summer  sunshine  produces  greater  corruption  than 
the  longest  winter  day.  — Eliza  Cook. 

4.  Is  not  a  thing  to  be  desired  by  every  man. 
(3984.)  Great   skill    is  required  to  the  governing 

of  a  plentiful  and  prosperous  estate,  so  as  it  may 
be  safe  and  comfortable  to  the  owner,  and  bene- 
ficial to  others.  Every  corporal  may  know  how 
to  order  some  few  files  ;  but  to  marshal  many 
troops  in  a  regiment,  many  regiments  in  a  whole 
body  of  an  army,  requires  the  skill  of  an  ex- 
perienced general.  — Hall,  1 574-1 656. 

(3985.)  As  for  prosperity,  every  man  thinks  him- 
self wise  and  able  enough  to  know  how  to  govern 
it.  and  himself  in  it.  A  happy  estate,  we  imagine, 
will  easily  manage  itself,  without  too  much  care. 
Give  me  but  sea-room,  saith  the  conficient  mariner; 
and  let  me  alone,  whatever  tempest  arise. 

Suiely  the  great  Doctor  of  the  CJentiles  had 
never  made. this  holy  boast  of  his  divine  ski;l,  "I 
know  how  to  abound,"  if  it  had  been  s"  -.dsy  a 
matter  as  the  world  conceives  it.  Mere  ignoianre. 
and  want  of  self- experience,  is  guilty  of  tins  erroi. 
— Hall,  1574-1650. 

(3986. )  How  many  can  form  any  estimate  as  to 
whether  it  is  best  for  them  to  be  prosperous  or  not  ? 

If  I  should  consult  the  wheat  that  is  growing  in 
the  spring  in  the  field  as  to  what  was  best  for  it, 
the  wheat  would  say,  "Let  me  alone.  Let  the 
rain  feed  me.  Let  the  winds  gently  strengthen  me. 
Let  me  grow  to  my  full  height  and  size."  lUit  ah  ! 
the  land  on  which  that  wheat  is  sown  is  over  rich  ; 
and  if  the  wheat  grows  to  its  full  height  and 
size,  it  will  be  so  fat  and  heavy  that  it  will  break 
and  fall  down,  and  be  lost.  So  the  farmer  turns 
in  his  cattle,  and  they  browse  the  wheat.  They 
eat  it  down  to  the  ground.  And  by  and  by,  Liter, 
when  it  is  allowed  to  grow,  it  has  been  so 
weakened  by  this  cruel  pasturage  that  it  will  not 
become  so  rank  as  to  break  down,  but  will  stand 
erect,  and  carry  its   heads  up,  and  ripen  its  grain. 

Many  men  will  bear  browsing.  They  gel  too 
fat,  and  cannot  carry  themselves  upright  and  firm, 
and  they  break  and  fall  duwn  ;  and  the  best  part  of 


PROSPERITY. 


(    670    ) 


PROSPERITY. 


them  lies  in  the  dirt;  and  all  that  stands  up  is 
straw  and  stubble. 

There  is  another  field  where  the  wheat,  if  I  were 
to  say  to  it,  "  W  liat  is  the  best  for  you  ?"  perhaps, 
hearing  my  discourse  on  the  other  field,  might 
say,  from  an  amiable  motive,  "  Let  me  alone." 
But  ah  !  that  happens  to  be  a  field  where  the  soil 
is  poor,  and  where  it  has  been  poorly  tilled,  and 
where,  if  the  prayer  of  the  wheat  should  lie  heeded, 
and  it  should  Ije  let  alone,  it  would  not  have 
strength  enough  to  grow,  and  would  only  have  a 
starveling  life,  and  would  bear  no  harvest.  So 
the  farmer  says,  "Give  it  ample  top-dressing. 
Bring  in  your  guano."  Here  is  a  field  that  has 
need  of  streni^lh  to  enable  it  to  cairy  its  crop  on 
to  ripeness  and  perfection.  Here  there  is  no  danger 
of  I  lie  crop  growing  rank,  and  falling  down,  and 
leaving  nothing  but  straw. 

And  so  it  is  with  men.  But  who  knows  what  is 
best  for  him  ?  Some  men  can  endure  prosperity, 
and  some  cannot ;  but  who  can  discriminate  be- 
tween them  ?  — Beecher, 

6.  Is  not  the  same  thing  as  happiness. 

(3987.)  We  must  distinguish  between  felicity  and 
prosperity  ;  for  prosperity  leads  often  to  ambition, 
and  ambition  to  disappointment.  — Laiidor. 

(39S8.)  Show  me  the  man  made  happy  by 
worldly  accumulation.  Who  are  the  men  who  have 
the  most  anxiety,  and  work  the  hardest  ?  The 
millionaires.  Men  work  harder  after  they  get  five 
hundred  thousand  dollars  than  before.  They  work 
/ess  at  a  hundted  thousand  dollars  ;  still  less  at  fifty 
thousand  ;  still  less  at  forty  ;  still  less  at  thirty  ;  still 
less  at  five  thousand  dollars;  and  least  of  all  when 
they  have  a  salary  to  live  on.  The  men  who  have 
the  greatest  freedom  from  care  are  those  who  live 
on  their  day's  wages.  Prosperity  is  like  salt  water  : 
the  more  you  drink  of  it  the  thirstier  you  are. 

—  Talmage. 

{3989-)  A  man  is  not  prosperous  because  he 
makes  money,  because  he  is  skilful,  or  because  he 
has  knowletlge.  That  man  who  is  happy  ;  that 
man  whose  mind  is  like  a  vvcll-chorded  harp,  and  is 
responsive  to  enjoyment ;  that  man  who  knows  how 
to  enjoy  with  his  intellect,  with  his  moral  senti- 
ments, with  his  taste;  that  man  who  knows  how  to 
reap  joy  from  all  his  social  affections  ;  that  man 
who  knows  how  to  stand  strong  without  being  de- 
bauched by  his  animal  passions ;  that  roan  who 
knows  how  to  regulate  his  physical  life;  that  man 
who  has  supreme  use  of  himself  all  through  ;  that 
man  who  is  happy  in  the  broadest  way,  and  with 
the  greatest  numiier  of  fountains  of  enjoyment — 
that  man  is  pnjsperous.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man 
may  be  a  ripe  scliolar  and  a  rich  man,  and  not  be 
prosperous.  A  man  may  be  a  millionaire,  and  yet 
be  so  miserable  as  to  groan  all  day  and  curse  all 
night.  A  man  may  have  all  the  outside  things 
wliich  the  world  affords,  and  yet  not  be  a  happy 
m.-in.  One  man  may  have  a  chest  full  of  excellent 
tools,  and  be  a  bungling  workman  ;  while  another 
miin  may  have  nothing  but  a  jack-knife,  and  be  a 
skilful  workman.  One  man  may  have  ever  so 
many  externa  means  of  enjoyment,  and  not  be 
happy.  You  must  not,  therefore,  argue  that  a  man 
is  prosperous  because  he  has  influence,  or  power, 
or  money,  or  any  of  ihese  things.  If  you  want  to 
know  who  are  prosperous,  find  out  who  are  happy. 


You  would  think  to  look  at  that  bell  up  in  the  bel- 
fry, "  Oh,  such  a  bell,  lifted  up  so  high — it  only 
needs  that  some  one  should  pull  the  rope  to  make 
it  sound  gloriously  through  the  air  ! "  Well,  pull 
the  rope  ;  it  sounds  for  all  the  world  like  a  tin  pan  ! 
It  is  cracked.  I  see  men  in  the  old  belfry  of  pro- 
sperity ;  and  other  men  are  looking  up  at  them  and 
say,  "  Oh,  how  happy  they  must  be  !  "  You  will 
find  them  to  be  good  for  nothing  the  moment  you 
subject  them  to  that  test,  — Beecher, 

6.  How  little  it  profits  tis. 

(3990.)  Let  a  man  consider  hew  little  he  is 
bettered  by  prosperity,  as  to  those  perfections 
which  are  chiefly  valuable.  All  the  wealth  of  both 
the  Indies  cannot  add  one  cubit  to  the  stature  either 
of  his  body  or  his  mind.  It  can  neither  better  his 
health,  advance  his  intellectuals,  nor  refine  his 
morals.  We  see  those  languish  and  die  who  com- 
mand the  physic  and  physicians  of  a  whole  king- 
dom. And  some  are  dunces  in  the  midst  of  librariej, 
dull  and  sottish  in  the  very  bosom  of  Athens;  and 
far  from  wisdom,  though  they  lord  it  over  the  wise. 

For  does  he,  who  was  once  both  poor  and  igno- 
rant, find  his  notions  or  his  manners  anything  im- 
proved, because,  perhaps,  his  friend  or  father  died, 
and  left  him  lich?  Did  his  ignorance  expire  with 
the  other's  life?  Or  does  he  understand  one  pro- 
position in  philosophy,  one  mystery  in  his  profession 
at  all,  the  more  for  his  keeping  a  bailiff  or  a  steward  ? 
As  great  and  as  good  a  landlord  as  he  is,  may  he 
not,  for  all  this,  have  an  empty  room  yet  to  let? 
and  that  such  an  one  as  is  like  to  continue  empty 
upon  his  hands  (or  rather  head)  for  ever?  If  so, 
surely  then  none  has  cause  to  value  himself  upon 
tliat  which  is  equally  incident  to  the  worst  and 
weakest  of  men.  — South,  1633-1716. 

7.  Its  Insecurity. 

(399 1 •)  The  same  person  sometimes  affords  an 
example  of  the  greatest  prosperity  and  of  greater 
misery  in  the  space  of  a  few  hours.  Henry  the 
Fourth  of  France,  in  the  midst  of  the  triumphs  ol 
peace,  was  by  a  blow  from  a  sacrilegious  hand  dis- 
patched in  his  coach,  and  his  bloody  corpse  forsaken 
by  his  servants,  exposed  to  the  view  of  all ;  so  that, 
as  the  historian  observes,  there  was  but  a  moment 
between  the  adorations  and  oblivion  of  that  great 
prince.  "All  flesh  is  grass,  and  the  glory  of  it  as 
the  flower  of  the  grass."  Whatever  disguises  its 
imperfections,  and  gives  it  lustre,  is  but  superficial, 
like  the  colour  and  ornament  of  a  flower,  whose 
matter  is  only  a  little  dust  and  water,  and  is  as 
weak  and  fading.  — Bates,  1625-1699. 

8.  Exposes  us  to  envy  and  hatred. 

(3992-)  Prosperity  is  an  eye-sore  to  many.  Such 
sheep  as  have  mo-.t  wool  are  soonest  fleeced.  The 
barren  tree  grows  peaceably  :  no  man  meddles  with 
the  ash  or  willow  ;  but  the  apple-tree  and  the 
damasin  shall  have  many  rude  suitors.  Oh,  then, 
be  contented  to  carry  a  lesser  sail  ;  he  that  hath 
less  revenues  hath  less  envy  ;  such  as  bear  the 
fairest  frontispiece,  and  make  the  greatest  show  in 
the  world,  are  the  white  for  envy  and  malice  to 
shoot  at.  — Watson,  1696. 

(3993.)  How  do  riches  and  honour,  wit  and 
beauty,  strength  and  learning,  shine  and  glister  in 
the  eyes  of  most  men  !  and  no  dcjubt,  but  as  all  of 
them  are  the  gifts,  so  are  they  also  the  biessings  of 


PROSPERITY. 


(    671     ) 


PROSPERITY 


God  to  those  who  can  make  a  wise  and  sanctified 
use  of  them.  But  such  is  our  unhappiness  in  this 
\ale  of  weakness  and  mortality,  that,  like  Jonah's 
gourd,  no  sooner  do  these  things  shoot  out  and 
flourish  about  us,  and  we  begin  to  delight  and 
please  ourselves  under  the  shadow  of  ihem,  but 
God  quickly  provides  a  worm,  even  that  killing  one 
of  envy,  to  smite  the  root  of  them,  and  then  pre- 
sently they  decline,  wither,  and  die  over  our  heads. 
Shadows  do  not  more  naturally  attend  shining 
bodies,  than  envy  pursues  worth  and  merit,  always 
close  at  the  very  heels  of  them,  and,  like  a  sharp 
blighting  east  wind,  still  blasting  and  killing  tiie 
noblest  and  most  promising  productions  of  virtue 
in  their  earliest  bud,  and,  as  Jacob  did  Esau,  sup- 
plants them  in  their  veiy  birth.  For  what  made 
Saul  so  implacably  persecute  David?  Was  it  not 
the  greatness  of  his  valour  and  the  glory  of  his 
actions,  wliich  drew  after  them  the  applause  of  the 
whole  kingdom,  and  consequently  the  envy  of  the 
king  himself?  How  comes  history  to  tell  us  of  so 
many  assassinations  of  princes,  downfalls  of 
favourites,  underminings  and  poisonings  of  great 
persons?  Why,  in  all  or  most  of  these  sad  events, 
still  only  worth  has  been  the  crime,  and  envy  the 
executioner.  What  drew  the  blood  of  Caesar, 
banished  Cicero,  and  put  out  the  eyes  of  the  brave 
and  victorious  Belisarius,  but  a  merit  too  great  for 
an  emperor  to  reward,  and  for  envy  to  endure  ? 
And  what  happiness,  then,  can  there  be  in  such 
things,  as  only  make  the  owners  of  them  fall  a 
woful  sacrifice  to  the  base  suspicions  and  cruelties 
of  some  wicked  and  ungrateful  great  ones ;  but 
always  worse  than  they  are  or  can  be  great  ?  He, 
indeed,  who  is  actually  possessed  of  these  glorious 
endowments,  thinks  them  both  his  ornament  and 
defence  ;  and  so  does  the  man  think  the  sword  he 
wears,  though  the  point  of  it  may  be  sometimes 
turned  upon  his  own  breast  ;  and  it  is  not  unheard 
of  for  a  man  to  die  by  that  very  weapon  which  he 
reckoned  he  should  defend  and  preserve  his  life  by. 
— South,  1 633- 1 7 16. 

9.  Should  cause  us  to  be  especially  watchf ul. 

(3994.)  It  is  the  bright  day  that  brings  forth  the 
adder,  and  that  craves  wary  walking. 

— Shakespeare. 

(3995.)  The  desire  of  prosperity  is  implanted  in 
our  bosoms  by  God,  and  is  the  great  stimulus  to 
diligence  and  to  progress. 

But  we  have  need  to  guard  against  the  abuse  of 
it,  just  as  the  master  of  a  vessel,  when  the  ship  has 
all  her  canvas  set,  and  is  going  with  full  sails  be- 
fore the  wind,  has  need  to  look  out,  especially  in 
the  night  time,  and  take  care  that  there  be  no 
collision,  and  that  the  ship  does  not  run  upon  a 
sunken  rock.  — Alexander  Thomson. 

(3996.)  Too  long  a  period  of  fair  weather  in  the 
Italian  valleys  creates  such  a  superabundance  of 
dust  that  the  traveller  sighs  for  a  shower.  He  is 
smothered,  his  clothes  are  white,  his  eyes  smart, 
the  grit  even  grates  between  his  teeth  and  finds  its 
way  down  his  throat ;  welcome  are  the  rain  clouds, 
as  they  promise  to  abate  the  nuisance.  Prosperity 
long  continued  breeds  a  plague  of  dust  even  more 
injurious,  for  it  almost  blinds  the  spirit  and  insinu- 
ates itself  into  the  soul ;  a  shower  or  two  of  grief 
proves  a  mighty  blessing,  for  it  deprives  the  things 
of  earth  of  umewhat  of  their  smotnering  power. 


A  Christian  making  money  fast  is  just  a  man  In  a 
cloud  of  dust,  it  will  fill  his  eyes  if  he  be  not  care- 
ful. A  Christian  full  of  worldly  care  is  in  the  same 
condition,  and  had  need  look  to  it  lest  he  be  choked 
with  earth.  Afflictions  might  almost  be  prayed  for 
if  we  never  had  them,  even  as  in  long  stretches  of 
fair  weather  men  beg  for  rain  to  lay  the  dust. 

— Spurgeon. 

10.  Is  spiritually  perilous. 

(I.)  //  enfeebles  the  soul. 

(3997.)  Generally  speaking,  the  sunshine  of  too 
much  worldly  favour  weakens  and  relaxes  our 
spiritual  nerves ;  as  weather,  too  intensely  hot, 
relaxes  those  of  the  body.  A  degree  of  seasonable 
opposition,  like  a  fine  dry  frost,  strengthens  and 
invigorates  and  braces  up. 

—  Toplady,  1 740-1 778. 

(2.)  //  draws  off  the  soul  from  God. 

(399s.)  The  sun  will  put  out  the  fire ;  and  so 
will  the  love  of  the  world  the  love  of  the  Father  ; 
they  cannot  stand  together  in  intense  degrees,  one 
cannot  serve  both  these  masters  with  such  affec- 
tion as  both  would  have.  Seldom  seest  thou  a 
man  make  haste  to  be  rich,  and  thrive  in  religion. 
Christ's  message  to  John  holds  true  ;  the  poor  are 
most  forward  in  receiving  and  following  the  Gospel. 
As  thou  lovest  thy  zeal,  beware  of  resolving  to  be 
rich,  lest  gain  prove  thy  godliness  ;  take  heed  of 
ambitious  aspiring,  lest  courts  and  great  places 
prove  ill  airs  for  zeal,  whither  it  is  as  easy  to  go 
zealous  as  to  return  wise.  Peter,  while  he  warmed 
his  hands,  cooled  his  heart.  Not  that  greatness 
and  zeal  cannot  agree,  but  for  that  our  weakness 
many  times  severs  them.  If  thou  art  willing  to 
die  poor  in  estate,  thou  mayest  the  more  easily 
live  in  grace.  Smyrna,  the  poorest  of  the  seven 
candlesticks,  has  the  richest  price  upon  it. 

—  IVard,  1 577- 1 639. 

(3999.)  It  is  sad  when  men  grasp  so  much  busi- 
ness that  they  can  have  no  leisure  for  a  com- 
munion with  God  in  a  co'rner.  The  noise  is  such 
in  a  mill  as  hinders  a  private  intercourse  between 
man  and  man  ;  and  so  a  multitude  of  worldly  busi- 
nesses make  such  a  noise,  as  it  hinders  all  private 
intercourse  between  God  and  the  soul.  If  a  man 
of  much  business  should  now  and  then  slide  into 
his  closet,  yet  his  head  and  his  heart  will  be  so 
filled  and  distracted  with  the  thoughts  of  his  em- 
ployrnents,  that  God  shall  have  little  of  him  but 
his  bodily  presence,  or,  at  most,  but  bodily  exercise, 
which  profits  little  (l  Tim.  iv.  8). 

— Brooks,  1 608- 1 680. 

(3.)  //  causes  men  to  forget  God. 

(4000.)  Prosperity  most  usually  makes  us  proud, 
insolent,  forgetful  of  God,  and  of  all  duties  we  owe 
unto  Him.  It  chokes  and  extinj;uishes,  or  at  least 
cools  and  abates,  the  heat  and  vigour  of  all  virtue 
in  us.  And  as  the  ivy,  whilst  it  embraces  the  oak, 
sucks  the  sap  from  the  root,  and  in  time  makes  it 
rot  and  perish  ;  so  worldly  prosperity  kills  us  with 
kindness,  whilst  it  sucks  from  us  the  sap  of  God's 
graces,  and  so  makes  our  spiritual  growth  and 
strength  to  decay  and  languish.  Neither  do  men 
ever  almost  suffer  an  eclipse  of  their  virtues  and 
good  parts,  but  when  they  are  in  the  full  of  worldly 
prosperity,  — Downame,  1644. 


PROSPERITY. 


(    672    ) 


PROSPERITY. 


(4001.)  Prosperity  is  no  friend  to  a  sanctified 
memory,  and  therefore  we  are  cautioned,  when  we 
are  full,  lest  we  forget  God.  Noah,  wlio  had  seen 
the  whole  world  drowned  in  \\aler,  was  no  sooner 
safe  on  shore,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  plenty, 
than  he  forgot  God,  and  drowned  himsrlf  in  wine. 
— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4.)  It  makes  men  forgetful  of  death. 

(4002.)  It  is  a  hard  thing  for  princes  to  remember 
death.  They  have  no  leisure  to  think  of  it,  but 
drop  into  the  earth  before  tliey  be  ware,  like  a  man 
who  vvall<.s  over  a  field  covered  with  snow,  and 
sees  not  his  way,  but,  when  he  thinks  to  run  on, 
suddenly  falls  into  a  pit :  even  so  they  who  have 
all  things  at  will,  and  swim  in  pleasure,  which  like 
snow  covers  their  way  and  dazzles  their  sight,  while 
they  think  to  live  on,  and  rejoice  still,  suddenly 
rush  upon  death,  and  make  shipwreck  in  the  calm 
sea.  — Henry  Smith,  1593. 

(5.)  //  destroys  watchfulness. 

(4003.)  Prosperity  in  the  beginning  of  a  great 
action  many  times  undoes  a  man  in  the  end. 
Happiness  is  the  cause  of  mischief.  The  fair 
chance  of  a  treacherous  die  at  first  flatters  an  im- 
provident gamester  with  his  own  hand  to  throw 
away  his  wealth  to  another :  for  while  we  expect 
all  things  laughing  upon  us,  like  thoss  we  have 
passed,  we  remit  our  care,  and  perish  by  neglecting. 
When  a  rich  crown  has  newly  kissed  the  temples 
of  a  gladded  king,  where  he  finds  all  things  in  a 
golden  swim,  and  kneeling  to  him  with  auspicious 
reverence,  he  carelessly  waves  himself  in  the 
swelling  plenty,  lays  his  heart  into  pleasures,  and 
for^'ets  the  future,  till  ruin  seizes  him  before  he  can 
think  of  it.  Felicity  eats  up  circumspection  :  and 
when  that  guard  is  wanting,  we  lie  spread  to  the 
shot  of  general  danger.  How  many  have  lost  the 
victory  of  a  battle,  with  too  much  confidence  in  the 
good  fortune  which  they  found  at  the  beginning  1 
Surely  it  is  not  good  to  be  happy  too  soon. 

—FelUham,  1668. 

(6.)  //  exposes  us  to  temptation. 

(4004. )  Prosperity  is  a  secret  traitor,  which  hides 
hatred  under  the  vizard  of  friendship,  and  thereby 
makes  us  so  reckless  and  secure,  that  instead  of 
opposition  we  are  ready  to  receive  this  serpent  into 
our  bosom :  and  when  he  encounters  us  with  all 
his  forces,  so  bev^itched  we  are  with  the  sight  of  this 
glorious  enemy,  that  we  clear  all  the  passages,  and 
set  wide  open  the  gates  of  our  souls  to  give  him 
entertainment ;  voluntarily  offering  ourselves  to  dig 
in  his  mines,  and  in  a  most  slavish  manner  to  row 
in  his  galleys,  so  as  we  may  be  assmed  to  enjoy  his 
company.  He  inflicts  on  us  no  grisly  wounds,  nor 
brings  us  to  our  end  by  a  foul  death  ;  but  as  it  were 
tickles  us  to  death  with  inveighing  pleasures,  mak- 
ing us  laugh  when  we  are  most  tormented,  and  in 
a  chariot  of  gold,  strewed  with  roses,  he  swiftly 
carries  us  into  hell.  — Downame,  1644. 

(4005.)  The  things  of  the  world  are  so  many 
purveyors  for  Satan.  When  Pharaoh  had  let  the 
people  go,  he  heard  after  a  while  that  they  were  en- 
tangled in  the  wilderness,  and  supposes  that  he  shall 
therefore  now  overtake  them  and  destroy  them.  This 
stirs  him  up  to  pursue  them.  Satan,  finding  those 
whom  he  has  been  cast  out  from  entangled  in  the 
things  of  (be  world,  by  which  he  is  sure  to  find  an 


easy  access  unto  them,  is  encouraged  to  attemol 
upon  them  afresh,  as  the  spider  to  come  down  upon 
the  strongest  fly  that  is  entangled  in  his  web  ;  for 
he  comes  by  his  temptations  only  to  impel  them 
unto  that  whereunto  by  their  own  lusts  they  are  in- 
clined, by  adding  poison  to  their  lusts,  and  painting 
to  the  objects  of  them.  And  oftentimes  by  this 
advantage  he  gets  so  in  upon  the  souls  of  men,  that 
they  are  never  well  free  of  him  more  whilst  they 
live.  And  as  men's  diversions  increase  from  the 
world,  so  do  their  entanglements  from  .Satan. 
When  they  have  more  to  do  in  the  world  than  they 
can  well  manage,  they  shall  have  more  to  do  from 
Satan  than  they  can  well  withstand.  When  men  are 
made  spiritually  faint,  Satan  sets  on  them  as  Ama- 
lek  did  on  the  faint  and  weak  of  the  people  that 
came  out  of  Egypt.  — Owen,  1616-1683. 

(4006.)  Where  one  thousand  are  destroyed  by 
the  world's  frowns,  ten  thousand  are  destroyed  by 
the  world's  smileo.  The  world,  siren-like,  sings  us 
and  sinks  us;  it  kisses  us  and  betrays  us,  like  judas  ; 
it  kisses  us  and  smites  us  under  the  fifth  rib,  like 
Joab.  — Brooks,  1608-1680. 

(4007.)  Prosperity,  like  smooth  Jacob,  will  sup- 
plant and  betray ;  a  great  estate,  without  much 
vigilancy,  will  be  a  thief  to  rob  us  of  heaven  ;  such 
as  are  upon  the  pinnacle  of  honour,  are  in  most 
danger  of  falling. 

A  lower  estate  is  less  hazardous  :  the  little  pinnace 
rides  safe  by  the  shore,  when  the  gallant  ship  ad- 
vancing with  its  mast  and  top-sail  is  cast  away. 
Adam  in  paradise  was  overcome,  when  Job  on  the 
dung-hill  was  a  conqueror.  — M^atson,  1696. 

(7.)  It  fosters  the  passions. 

(4008.)  Who  seeth  not  that  prosperity  increaseth 
iniquity  ?  and  where  is  more  want,  there  is  less 
wantonness.  The  Church,  like  the  moon,  gives 
ever  the  clearest  light,  when  the  sun  seems  to  be  in 
most  opposition  to  it.  Drones  gather  honey  only 
from  the  hive ;  a  true  believer  will  gather  it  even 
from  thistles.  — Adatns,  1653. 

(4009.)  When  the  weather  is  fine,  and  undisturbed 
by  showers,  dust  is  easily  raised,  and  falls  plenti- 
fully. In  like  manner,  it  is  when  flesh  and  blood 
enjoy  fair  weather  and  sunshine,  that  sinful  Justs 
are  most  apt  to  be  excited,  and  drop  most  thickly 
in  actual  sins.  — Scriver,  1629- 1693. 

(4010.)  Nothing  shall  more  efTectually  betray 
the  heart  into  a  love  of  sin,  and  a  loathing  of  holi- 
ness, than  an  ill-managed  prosperity.  It  is  like 
some  meats,  the  more  luscious,  so  much  the  more 
dangerous.  Prosperity  and  ease  upon  an  unsancti- 
fied,  impure  heart,  is  like  the  sunbeams  upon  a 
dunghill  ;  it  raises  many  filthy,  noisome  exhalations. 
The  same  soldiers,  who,  in  hard  service,  and  in 
the  battle,  are  in  perfect  subjection  to  their  leaders, 
in  peace  and  luxury  are  apt  to  mutiny  and  rebel. 
That  corrupt  affection  which  has  lain,  as  it  were, 
dead  and  frozen  in  the  midst  of  distracting  busi- 
nesses, or  under  adversity,  when  the  sun  of  pro- 
sperity has  shined  upon  it,  then,  like  a  snake,  it 
presently  recovers  its  former  strength  and  venom. 
Vice  must  be  caressed  and  smiled  upon  that  it  may 
thrive  and  sting.  It  is  starved  by  poverty,  it  droops 
under  the  frowns  of  fortune,  and  pines  away  upon 
bread  and  water.  But  when  the  channels  of  plenty 
run  high,  and  every  appetite  is  plied   with  abun* 


PROVIDENCE. 


(    673     ) 


PROVIDENCE 


dance  and  vanecy — so  that  satisfaction  is  but  a 
mean  word  to  express  its  enjoyment — then  the 
inbred  corruption  of  the  heart  shows  itself  pampered 
and  insolent,  too  unruly  for  discipline  and  too  big 
for  correction.  — 6'o«/A,  1 633-1 716. 

(8.)  It  promotes  pride. 

(401 1.)  Who  almost  is  there  whose  heart  does 
not  swell  with  his  bags  ?  and  whose  thoughts  do 
not  follow  the  proporiions  of  his  condition?  What 
difference  has  been  seen  in  the  same  man  poor  and 
preferred  ?  his  mind,  like  a  mushroom,  has  shot  up 
in  a  night :  his  business  is  first  to  forget  himself, 
and  then  his  friends.  When  the  sun  shines,  then 
the  peacock  displays  his  train. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

(4012.)  When  flowers  are  full  of  heaven-de- 
scended dews,  they  always  hang  their  heads  ;  but 
men  hold  theirs  the  higher  the  more,  they  receive, 
getting  proud  as  they  get  full.  — Beecher. 

(9.)  //  increases  selfishness. 

(4013.)  It  is  one  of  the  worst  effects  of  prosperity 
to  make  a  man  a  vortex  instead  of  a  fountain  ;  so 
that,  instead  of  throwing  cut,  he  learns  only  to 
draw  in.  — Beecher. 

{10  )  //  unfits  men  for  trial. 

(4014.)  Much  prosperity  utterly  unfits  such  per- 
sons for  the  sharp  trials  of  adversity  ;  which  yet 
God  uses  as  the  most  proper  means  to  correct  a 
soul  grown  vain  and  extravagant  by  a  long,  uninter- 
rupted felicity.  But  an  unsanctified,  unregenerate 
person,  passing  into  so  great  an  alteration  of  estate, 
is  like  a  man  in  a  sweat  entering  into  a  river,  or 
throwing  himself  into  the  snow  ;  he  is  presently 
Struck  to  the  heart ;  he  languishes,  and  meets  with 
certain  death  in  the  change. 

—South,  1633-1716. 


PROVIDENCE. 
L    IS  ALL-EMBRACING. 

1.  It  regards  the  acts  and  governs  the  course 
of  every  individual. 

(4015.)  If  thou  be  not  a  senseless  atheist,  but 
knowest  that  God  is  everywhere,  how  is  it  possible 
thou  shouldst  doubt  of  His  care  or  observance,  or 
particular  providence  about  everytliing  ?  No  child 
is  scarce  so  foolish  that  will  think  his  father  cares 
not  what  he  saith  or  doth,  when  he  stands  before 
him.  Wouldst  thou  doubt  of  God's  particular 
providence,  whether  He  regards  thy  heart,  and 
talk,  and  practice,  if  thou  didst  see  Him  with  thee? 
Sure  it  is  scarce  possible.  Why  then  dost  thou 
question  it  when  thou  knowest  that  He  is  with 
thee?  — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(4016.)  Oh,  blind  atheists  !  you  see  the  sun  be- 
fore your  eyes,  which  enlighteneth  all  the  upper 
part  of  the  earth  at  once  ;  even  millions  of  millions 
see  all  by  his  light  ;  and  yet,  do  you  doubt  whether 
God  beholds,  and  regards,  and  provides  for  all  at 
once  !  Tell  me,  if  God  had  never  a  creature  to 
look  to  in  all  the  world  but  thee,  wo<ildst  thou  be- 
lieve that  He  would  regard  thy  heart,  and  words, 
and  ways,  or  not  ?  If  He  would,  why  not  now  as 
Well  as  then      is  He  not  as  su£Eicieni  for  thee,  ana 


as  really  present  with  thee,  as  if  He  had  no  other 
creature  else?  If  all  men  in  the  world  were  dead 
save  one,  would  the  sun  any  more  illuminate  that 
one  than  now  it  doth  ?  Mayest  thou  not  see  as  well 
by  the  light  of  it  now,  as  if  it  had  never  another  to 
enlighten?  And  dost  thou  see  a  creatu.s  do  so 
much,  and  wilt  thou  not  believe  as  much  of  the 
Creator?  If  thou  think  us  worms  too  low  for  God 
so  exactly  to  observe,  thou  mayest  as  well  think  that 
we  are  too  low  for  Him  to  create,  or  preserve  ;  and 
then  who  made  us,  and  preserveth  us?  Doth  not 
the  sun  enlighten  the  smallest  bird,  and  crawling 
vermin,  as  well  as  the  greatest  prince  on  earth? 
Doth  it  withhold  its  light  from  any  creature  that 
can  see,  and  say,  "I  will  not  shine  on  things  so 
base"?  And  wilt  thou  more  restrain  the  Infinite 
God  who  is  the  Maker,  Light,  and  Life  of  all?  It 
is  He  that  "  filleth  all  in  all."  "The  heaven  of 
heavens  cannot  contain  Him  ; "  and  is  He  absent 
from  thee  ?  — Baxter,  1 6 1 5- 1 69 1 . 

(4017.)  Socrates,  the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  one 
of  the  sages  of  Greece,  who  in  the  night  of  paganism 
longed  for  light,  spoke  one  day  as  he  sat  among  his 
disciples  of  the  over-ruling  providence  of  the  Deity, 
which  being  omnipresent,  did  hear  and  see  every- 
thing, taking  care  of  all  creatures  ;  and  that  we 
should  always  feel  and  recognise  this  more,  the 
more  we  honoured  and  revered  the  Supreme  Being. 

In  the  emotion  of  his  heart,  the  wise  man  alluded 
to  a  parable  from  the  poems  of  the  incomparable 
Homer,  likening  Divine  Providence  to  a  mother, 
who,  with  gentle  and  unseen  hand,  fans  the  flies 
from  her  sleeping  child. 

Among  his  discijjles  was  Critias,  the  traitor,  who 
afterwards  condemned  him  to  death.  He  iaughe  1 
at  the  comparison,  for  he  thought  it  ignoble  and 
common.  Therefore  he  laughed  and  mocked  at  it 
in  his  heart.  However,  Socrates  observed  it,  and 
understood  his  thoughts.  He  turned  to  him,  and 
said  :  "  Dost  thou  not  feel,  my  dear  Critias,  how 
nearly  allied  the  human  in  its  simplicity  is  to  the 
divine,  and  how  the  former  must  raise  us  to  the 
latter?"  Thus  he  spoke.  Critias  departed  with 
an  angry  heart ;  but  Socrates  continued  to  instruct 
the  other  disciples. 

When  Socrates  was  sentenced  to  death  by  the 
malice  of  Critias  and  condemned  to  drink  the 
poisoned  cup,  the  tyrant  remembered  the  words 
and  the  parable  of  the  sage,  and  he  came  to  him, 
and  said  deridingly  :  *'  Well,  Socrates,  will  the 
gods  even  now  protect  thee  from  the  flies?"  But 
Socrates  smiled,  and  said:  "The  gods,  Critias, 
now  lead  me  to  rest  after  my  day's  work  is  done. 
How  could  I  still  think  of  the  flies  !  " 

— F.  A.  Krummcuher, 

(4018.)  A  violet  shed  its  modest  beauties  at  the 
turfy  foot  of  an  old  oak.  It  lived  there  many  days 
during  the  kind  summer  in  obscurity.  The  winds 
and  the  rains  came  and  fell,  but  they  did  not  hurt 
the  violet.  Storms  often  crashed  among  the  boughs 
of  the  oak.  And  one  day,  said  the  oak,  "Are  you 
not  ashamed  of  yourself  when  you  look  up  at  me, 
you  little  thing  down  there,  when  you  see  how  large 
I  am,  and  how  small  you  are  ;  when  you  see  how 
small  a  space  you  fill,  and  how  widely  my  branches 
are  spread  ?  "  "  No,"  said  the  violet,  "  we  are  Iwth 
what  God  made  us,  and  we  are  where  God  has  placed 
us,  and  God  has  given  us  both  something.  He 
has  given  to  you  strength,  to  me  sweetness  ;  and  I 

2  U 


PROVIDENCE. 


(    674    ) 


PROVIDENCE. 


o/fer  Him  back  my  fragrance,  and  I  am  thankful." 
"Sweetness  is  all  nonsense,"  said  tlie  oak;  "a 
few  days,  a  montb  at  most — where  and  what  will 
you  be  ?  you'll  die,  and  the  place  of  your  grave 
won't  lift  the  ground  higher  by  a  blade  of  grass.  I 
hope  to  stand  sometime — ages  perhaps — and  then 
when  I  am  cut  down,  I  shall  be  a  ship  to  bear  men 
over  the  sea,  or  a  coffin  to  hold  the  dust  of  a 
prince.  What  is  your  lot  to  mine?"  "But," 
cheerfully  breathed  the  violet  back,  "  we  are  both 
what  God  made  us,  and  we  are  both  where  He 
placed  us.  I  suppose  I  shall  die  soon.  I  hope  to 
die  fragrantly,  as  I  have  lived  fragrantly.  You 
must  be  cut  down  at  last ;  it  does  not  matter  that 
I  see,  a  few  days,  or  a  few  ages,  my  littleness  or 
your  largeness,  it  comes  to  the  same  thing  at  last. 
We  are  what  God  made  us.  IVe  are  -where  God 
placed  us.  God  gave  you  strength;  God  gave  me 
sweetness."  What  a  common  mistake — what  a 
vulgar  prejudice  that  is — that  God  loves  and  takes 
care  of,  and  watches  over,  and  uses,  great  things, 
great  people,  noisy  people,  rich  people.  We  are 
the  slaves  of  the  senses  in  all  this.  Zion  said,  "  My 
God  hath  forgotten  me  ;"  and  God  said,  "Can  a 
woman  forget  her  child  ?  Neither  will  I  forget 
thee."  Yet  her  child  is  but  a  poor,  weak,  little, 
helpless  thing.  Cannot  God  regard,  and  love,  and 
watch  over  the  weak,  the  feeble?  All  those 
thoughts  which  argue  God's  insensibility,  from  our« 
insignificance,  dishonour  Him,  and  disregard  His 
word. 

I  know  of  no  attribute  of  the  Divine  nature  more 
cheering  to  us  than  that  of  the  infinite  love  and 
tenderness  of  God,  amidst  the  minute  things  and 
beings  of  His  creation.  He  gives  His  infinite 
regards  to  the  least,  to  birds,  and  to  flowers  ;  to 
men,  and  to  women,  and  to  lowly  villages  There 
is  nothing  small  or  insignificant  with  God.  "  Why 
sayest  thou,  O  Jacob,  and  speakest,  O  Israel,  '  My 
way  is  hid  from  the  Lord,  and  my  judgment  is 
passed  over  from  my  God?'  He  giveth  power  to 
the  faint ;  and  to  them  that  have  no  might  He 
increaseth  strength. "  (Isa.  xl.  29.) 

— E.  Paxton  Hood. 

2.  It  oontrols  all  the  events  of  our  everyday 
Ufe. 

(4019.)  It  may  be  remembered  that  some  years 
ago  a  steamer  going  from  New  York  to  Liverpool 
was  burned  on  the  voyage.  A  boat-load  of  pas- 
sengers succeeded  in  leaving  the  ship  and  were 
saved,  among  whom  was  a  reverend  gentleman,  an 
evangelical  of  the  Low-Church  school,  who  belonged 
to  Dublin.  He  returned  thither  from  his  ill-omened 
voyage,  and,  having  a  thrilling,  interesting  story  to 
tell,  was  for  a  time  the  hero  of  all  the  tea-tables 
in  Dublin,  at  which  he  used  to  moralise  the 
occurrence  after  the  fashion  of  persons  of  his  school 
of  theology.  He  knew  himself  to  be  unworthy  of 
so  signal  a  mercy,  was  lost  in  meditations  on  the 
wonder  that  the  Almighty  should  have  seen  good 
to  make  him  the  example  of  so  special  a  provi- 
dence, was  confounded  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
been  picked  out  to  be  the  recipient  of  so  signal 
a  mercy,  &c.  And  all  this  told  immensely, 
and  was  eagerly  swallowed  by  the  old  ladies  of  the 
Dublin  tea-fights.  One  day,  on  the  occasion  of 
one  of  the  general  receptions  of  the  clergy,  which 
often  took  place  at  the  Archiepiscopal  residence, 
our  hero  was  holding  forth  in  his  usual  strain  to  a 
little  knot  gathered  around  him  in  Whately's  draii/- 


ing  room,  when  the  Archbishop,  whose  wont  it 
was  on  such  occasions  to  stroll  about  the  room 
from  one  group  to  another,  saying  a  few  wordj 
here  and  a  few  words  there  to  his  guests,  came  up 
to  the  knot  of  which  Mr.  Thomson  (we  will  give 
him  that  name  for  the  nonce)  was  the  centi'e. 
Whately  listened  with  grave  attention  to  the  telling 
of  his  story  and  to  the  usual  comments  on  it,  and 
then  spoke.  "  Wonderful  occurrence  !  A  great 
and  signal  mercy  indeed,  Mr.  Thomson.  But  I 
think  1  can  cap  it,"  said  he,  using  an  expression 
which  was  very  common  with  him,  tossing  up  his 
white  head  in  the  old  bull-like  manner.  "  I  think 
I  can  cap  it  with  an  incident  from  my  own  ex- 
perience." Everybody  pricked  up  his  ears  and 
listened  for  tlie  passage  in  the  Archbishop's  life 
which  should  show  a  yet  more  marvellously  merci- 
ful escape  than  that  of  Mr.  Thomson's  from  the 
burning  ship.  Whately  continued  in  the  expressive 
manner  for  which  he  was  celebrated  :  "  Not  three 
months  ago  I  sailed  in  the  packet  from  Holyhead 

to  Kingston    (the  port  for  Dublin),  and" a  pause 

while  the  Archbishop  took  a  copious  pinch  of  snuff, 
and  his  hearers  were  on  the  tenterhooks  of  ex- 
pectation— "and  by  God's  mercy  the  vessel  never 
caught  fire  at  all.     "Think  of  that,  Mr.  Thomson  !" 

(4020.)  A  man's  child  dies,  and  he  says,  "This 
is  a  mysterious  providence."  Well,  was  it  not  a 
mysterious  providence  when  the  child  lived  ?  It  is 
said,  "  When  a  man  was  going  along  the  street  one 
day  to  his  wedding,  a  brick  fell  off  from  a  chimney, 
and  struck  him  on  the  head  ;  and  he  was  laid  dead." 
And  the  preacher  will  say,  "  It  was  a  strange  and 
mysterious  providence."  Well,  there  was  another 
young  man,  on  the  same  day,  going  through  that 
same  street  to  his  wedding  ;  and  a  brick  did  not  fall 
and  hit  him  ;  was  not  that  event  just  as  much  a  pro- 
vitlence  as  the  other?  You  think  that  exclamation- 
points  are  the  whole  of  literature,  and  that  only 
here  and  there  an  event  which  startles  you  is  pro- 
vidential ;  whereas  ten  thousand  events,  and  combi- 
nations  of  them,  are  all  proceeding  on  precisely  the 
same  plan,  namely,  the  working  together  of  the 
soul  and  mind  of  God  and  the  soul  and  mind  of 
men.  According  to  this  plan,  under  the  Divine 
guidance,  myriads  of  results  are  worked  out  which 
you  do  not  notice,  but  now  and  then  one  steps  out 
more  clearly  and  dramatically,  and  you  call  that 
a  providence.  It  is  a  providence,  and  there  is  a 
providence  all  the  time.  Good  ai]d  bad,  light  and 
shade,  joy  and  sorrow,  prosperity  and  adversity, 
things  present  and  things  to  come,  all  alike  are 
God's.  — Eggleston, 

(4021.)  I  would,  with  special  earnestness,  beg 
you  to  believe  that  God  is  in  little  things.  It  is 
the  little  troubles  of  life  that  annoy  us  the  most. 
A  man  can  put  up  with  the  loss  of  a  dear  friend 
sometimes  better  than  he  can  with  the  burning  of 
his  fingers  with  a  coal,  or  some  little  accident  that 
may  occur  to  him.  The  little  stones  in  the  sandal 
make  the  traveller  limp  ;  while  great  stones  do  him 
little  hurt,  for  he  soon  leaps  over  them.  Believe 
that  God  arranges  the  littles.  Take  the  little 
troubles  as  they  come ;  remember  them  to  your 
God,  because  they  come  from  God.    — Spiirgeon. 

(4022.)  People  talk  about  special  providences.  I 
believe  in  the  providences,  but  not  in  the  speciality. 
I  do  not  believe  that  God  lets  the  thread  of  my 
affairs  go  for  six  days,  and  on  the  seventh  evening 


PROVIDENCE. 


(    675     ^ 


PROVIDENCE. 


takes  it  up  for  a  moment.  The  so-called  pro- 
vidences are  no  exception  to  the  rule — they  are 
common  to  men  at  all  moments.  But  it  is  a  fact 
that  God's  care  is  more  evident  in  Fome  in>tances 
of  it  than  in  others,  to  the  dim  and  often  bewiUlered 
vision  of  humanity.  Upon  such  instances  men 
seize,  and  call  them  providences.  It  is  well  that 
they  can  ;  but  it  would  be  gloriously  better  if  they 
could  believe  that  the  whole  matter  is  one  grand 
providence.  — George  Macdonald. 

3.  The  comprehensiveness  of  providence  is  a 
natural  and  inevitable  result  of  the  omnipresence 
of  God. 

(4023.)  The  providence  of  God  is  regina  mttndi, 
the  queen  and  governess  of  the  world  :  it  is  the 
eye  that  sees,  and  the  hand  that  turns  all  the  wheels 
in  the  universe.  God  is  not  like  an  artificer  that 
builds  a  house,  and  then  leaves  it,  anil  is  gone  ;  but 
like  a  pilot  that  does  v/ith  a  great  deal  of  care  steer 
on  the  ship  of  the  whole  creation. 

—  JVaison,  i6g6, 

<L  Results  of  tbe  comprehensiveness  of  God's 
providence  :-— 

(l.)    There  are  no  discoittiected  events. 

(4024.)  Nothing  is  or  can  be  properly  accidental 
to  God  ;  but  accidents  are  so  called  in  respect  of 
the  intention  or  expectation  of  second  causes,  wlien 
things  fall  out  beside  their  knowledge  or  design. 
And  there  is  nothing  in  wliich  Providence  so  much 
triumphs  over,  and,  as  I  may  so  say,  laui^hs  at  tlie 
profoun<lest  wisdom  of  men,  as  in  the  stable,  certain 
knowledge  and  disposal  of  all  casual  events,  in 
respect  of  which,  the  clearest  mortal  intellect  is 
wholly  in  the  dark.  And  upon  this  account,  as 
loose  as  these  events  seem  to  hang  upon  one 
another,  yet  they  are  all  knit  and  linked  together 
in  a  firm  chain,  and  the  highest  link  of  that  chain, 
as  the  poets  speak  most  truly  and  pliilosophically 
(though  in  a  fable),  is  fastened  to  Jupiter's  cliair, 
that  is,  it  is  held  and  managed  by  an  unerring 
Providence;  the  chain,  indeed,  may  wave  and  sliake 
this  way  and  that  wny,  but  still  the  hand  that 
holds  it  is  steady,  and  the  eye  that  guides  it  in- 
fallible. 

Now,  nothing  has  so  powerful  an  influence  upon 
the  great  turns  of  affairs,  and  the  lives  and  fortunes 
of  great  persons,  as  the  little,  unobserved,  un- 
protected events  of  things.  For  could  anything  be 
greater  than  the  preservation  of  a  great  prince 
and  his  next  heir  to  the  crown,  together  with  his 
nobles  and  the  chief  of  his  clergy,  from  certain 
unminent  and  prepared  destruction?  And  was 
not  all  this  effected  by  a  pitiful  small  accident  in 
the  mistake  of  the  superscription  of  a  letter? 
Did  not  the  oversight  of  one  syllable  jjreserve  a 
church  and  a  state  too  ?  And  might  it  not  be  truly 
caid  of  that  contemptible  paper,  that  it  did 
Ccssarem  vehere  et  fortunam  Ccesaris,  and  that  the 
fate  of  three  kingdoms  was  wrapt  and  sealed  up 
in  it? 

A  little  error  of  the  eye,  a  misguidance  of  the 
hand,  a  slip  of  the  foot,  a  starting  of  a  horse,  a 
sudden  mist,  or  a  great  shower,  or  a  word  un- 
designedly cast  forth  in  an  army,  has  turned  the 
stream  of  victory  from  one  side  to  another,  and 
thereby  disposed  of  the  fortunes  of  empires  and 
whole  nations.  No  prince  ever  returns  safe  out  of 
a  battle,  but  may  remember  how  many  blows  and 
bullets   have    gone  by  him,  that   mi^^ht   as   easily 


have  gone  through  him.  ami  by  what  litile  odd  un« 
foreseeable  chances  death  has  been  turned  aside, 
which  seemed  iir  a  full,  ready,  and  diieci  careei 
to  have  been  jiosting  to  him.  All  which  passages, 
if  we  do  not  acknowledge  10  have  been  guided  to 
their  respective  ends  and  effects  by  the  conduct  of 
a  superior  and  a  Divine  hand,  we  do,  by  the  same 
assertion,  cashier  all  providence,  strip  the  Almighty 
of  His  noblest  prerogative,  and  make  God,  not  the 
governor,  but  the  mere  spectator  of  the  world. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 16. 

{4025.)  The  Christian  often  thinks,  and  schemes, 
and  talks,  like  a  practical  atheist.  His  eye  is  so 
conversant  with  second  causes,  that  the  Great 
Mover  is  little  regarded.  And  yet  those  sentiments 
and  that  conduct  of  others,  by  which  his  affairs  are 
influenced,  are  not  formed  by  chance  and  at  ran- 
dom :  they  are  attracted  toward  the  system  of  his 
affairs,  or  repelled  from  them,  by  the  highest  power. 
We  talk  of  attraction  in  the  universe;  but  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  we  are  accustomed  to  consider  it. 
The  natural  and  moral  worlds  are  held  together,  io 
their  respective  operations,  by  an  incessant  ad- 
ministration. It  is  the  mighty  grasp  of  a  control- 
ling hand  which  keeps  everything  in  its  station. 
Were  this  control  suspended,  there  is  nothing 
adequate  to  the  preservation  of  harmony  and  afi"ec- 
tion  between  my  mind  and  that  of  my  dearest 
friend  for  a  single  hour.  — Cecil,  1748-1810. 

( 2. )  Great  revolutions  are  effected  silently  and  with 
apparent  suddenness. 

(4026.)  In  all  Divine  works,  the  smallest  begin- 
nings lead  assuredly  to  some  result  ;  and  the 
remark  in  spiritual  matters,  that  "  the  kingdom 
of  God  Cometh  without  observation,"  is  also  found 
to  be  true  in  every  work  of  Divine  providence  ;  so 
that  everything  glides  quietly  on  without  confusion 
or  noise,  and  the  matter  is  achieved  before  men 
either  think  or  perceive  that  it  is  commenced. 

— Bacon,  1560-1626. 

(3.)    The  purposes  of  the  wicked  are  frustrated. 

(4027.)  As  the  potter's  clay,  when  the  poiter  hath 
spent  some  time  and  pains  in  tempering  and  form- 
ing it  upon  the  wheel,  and  now  the  vessel  is  even 
almost  brought  to  its  shape,  a  man  that  stands  by 
may,  with  the  least  push,  put  it  clean  out  of  shape, 
and  mar  all  on  a  sudden  that  he  hath  been  so  long 
a-m.aking  :  so  is  it  that  all  the  plots  and  contrivances 
of  wicked  men,  all  their  turnings  of  things  upside 
down,  shall  be  but  as  the  potter's  clay  ;  for  when 
they  think  they  have  brought  all  to  maturity,  ripe- 
ness, and  perfection,  when  they  look  upon  theii 
business  as  good  as  done,  on  a  sudden  all  theii 
labour  is  lost,  for  God,  who  stands  by  all  the  wliila 
and  looks  on,  will,  with  one  small  touch,  with  th« 
least  breath  of  His  mouth,  blast  and  break  all  in 
pieces.  — Edlin,  1656. 

(4.)  All  things  are  overruled  for  good  to  them 
that  love  God. 

(4028.)  The  promise  is  express,  and  literallj 
true,  that  all  things  shall  work  together  for  good 
to  them  that  love  God.  But  they  work  together  ( 
the  smallest  as  well  as  the  greatest  events  have 
their  place  and  use,  like  the  several  stones  in  thfl 
arch  of  s  bridge,  where  no  one  would  singly  b« 
useful,  but  every  one  in  its  place  is  necessary  to  the 
structure  and  support  of  the  arch  ;  or  rather  like 


PROVIDENCE. 


(    (^6    ) 


PROVIDENCE. 


the  movement  of  a  watch,  where  tliough  there  is  an 
evident  subordination  of  parts,  and  some  pieces  have 
a  jjrealer  compaiaiive  importance  tlian  others,  yet 
the  smallest  pieces  have  their  place  and  use,  antl 
are  so  far  equally  important,  that  the  whole  design 
of  the  machine  would  be  obstructed  for  want  of 
ihem.  Some  dispensations  and  turns  of  Divine 
providence  may  be  compared  to  the  mainspring  or 
caijilal  wheels  which  have  a  more  visiiile,  sensible, 
and  determining  influence  upon  the  wliole  tenor  of 
our  lives  :  but  the  more  ordinary  occurrences  of 
every  day  are  at  least  pins  and  pivots,  adjusted, 
timed,  and  suited  with  equal  accuracy,  by  the  hand 
of  the  same  great  artist  who  planned  and  executes 
the  whole  ;  and  we  are  sometimes  surprised  to  see 
how  much  more  depends  and  turns  upon  them  than 
we  were  aware  of.  Then  we  admire  His  skill,  and 
say,  He  has  done  all  things  well.  Indeed,  witli 
respect  to  His  works  of  providence,  as  well  as  of 
creation.  He  well  deserves  the  title  of  Maximus  in 
minimis.  — Newton,  1725-1807. 

(5.)  Perfect  order  shall  at  length  reign  in  the 
moral  universe. 

(4029.)    Throughout  the   natural   world   we  see 

everything,  however  interesting  or  valuable  in  itself, 
sciviiig  some  other  purpose.  We  are  refreshed 
wiih  the  fiagrnnce,  and  delighted  with  the  beauty 
of  the  vernal  bloom  ;  and  most  certainly  this  was 
tlie  j)urpose  of  the  great  Benefactor,  but  evidently 
not  the  chief  piir]5ose:  the  bloom  disappears,  and 
other  objects  succeed  still  more  valuable,  because 
more  intimately  conducive  to  human  comfort.  Yet 
thi>  greater  benefit  is  really  conferred  but  by  the 
way  :  for,  as  the  blossom  contained  the  embryo  of 
fruit,  so  the  fruit  contains  the  embryo  of  trees. 
Can  we  suppose  that  this  plan  of  successive  ad- 
vancement does  not  hold  as  fully  in  provitlence  as 
in  nature,  or  that  any  event  can  terminate  in  itself 
in  tjie  one  more  than  in  the  other?  But  if  there  be 
the  same  fruitfulness,  and  the  same  progression, 
what  a  view  does  it  give  one  of  the  grandeur  of 
final  results,  since  our  own  observation  tells  us  that 
there  is  no  restriction  within  a  narrow  circle,  in 
providential,  as  in  natural  causes  and  effects.  In 
the  latter  the  blossom  produces  fruit,  the  fruit 
seed,  the  seed  a  tree,  and  there  it  begins  again  ; 
but  in  providence,  every  succeeding  stage  of  the 
progress  involves  new  combinations,  and  conse- 
quently teems  with  new  powers  ;  so  that  in  this 
great  sphere  of  divine  action,  there  is  illimitable 
improvement  to  be  reckoned  on. 

— Salter,  1840. 

{4030.)  All  things  are  for  the  best,  by  virtue  of 
no  inherent  power  in  evil  to  develop  good,  for  evil 
must  ever  gravitate  towards  an  increase  of  itself; 
but  by  virtue  of  an  ovei ruling  Wisdom  bringing 
good  out  of  evil,  and  converting  the  evil  itself  into 
the  instrument  of  good.  This  is  true  of  natural 
laws.  The  storm  destructive  of  life  and  property 
fills  the  atmosphere  with  the  seeds  of  larger  and 
freer  life.  Pestilence  is  the  providential  stimulus 
of  sanitary  progress.  Difficulties  and  conflicts  are 
the  school  of  all  the  heroic  virtues.  Fortitude,  self- 
control,  heroic  force  of  will,  unselfish  generosity,  a 
rational  love  of  liberty,  and  liberality  tolerant  of 
other  men's  opinions,  all  grow  out  of  this  soil. 
T  hey  are  not  hothouse  exotics,  needing  to  be 
stiittulatcd  into  artificial  life,  but  vigorous  ever- 
grc'-ns,  riourisliing  only  in  the  free  air  of  hoaven. 


and  striking  their  roots  deep  only  in  their  native 
soil.  The  exercise  of  a  Divine  wisdom  and  power 
over-ordering  evil  for  good  is  but  the  application  of 
the  same  principle  to  the  higher  sphere  of  God's 
moral  government,  but  another  and  a  louder  strain 
of  the  same  harmonious  music.  The  past  history 
of  the  world  is  one  long  illustration  of  this  truth. 
The  experience  of  the  past  becomes  prophetic,  and 
catching  its  language  from  the  glowing  pages  of  the 
inspired  Scriptures,  sings  its  songs  of  triumphant 
hope  for  the  future.  Looking  back  to  the  past  and 
forward  to  the  future,  faith  recognises  that  all  is 
best.  From  the  height  of  the  revealed  promise 
peeping  on  tiptoe  into  the  future,  it  catches  a 
glimpse  of  a  more  glorious  hereafter. 

— Garbett. 
II.    ITS  MYSTERIES. 

1.  Many  so-called  Inscrutable  proTldences  ar« 
really  Bcrutable. 

(4031.)  When,  the  other  day,  a  juror  in  one  of  the 
Westfield  suits  refused  to  award  damages  against 
the  Steamboat  Company,  on  the  ground  that  the 
disaster  could  have  happened  only  by  the  direct 
will  of  God,  and  was  simply  an  inscrutable  provi- 
dence— the  community  heard  him  with  a  suppressed 
titter,  which,  if  it  implied  tolerance  for  his  convic- 
tions, implied  equal  contempt  for  his  understanding. 
For  it  was  patent  to  every  mind  but  Ins  own  that  a 
worn-out  boiler  must  explode  at  the  very  instant 
when  all  conditions  favoured  that  catastrophe,  and 
that  the  men  who  knew  that  that  instant  was  im- 
minent, yet  hourly  solicited  travellers  to  a  possible 
death,  were  morally  guilty,  not  only  of  criminal 
neglect  and  deceit,  but  of  murder. 

But  many  candid  men  who  saw  clearly  the 
accountability  of  the  Westfield  owners  and  managers, 
shake  their  heads  just  now  over  what  seems  to 
them  a  really  mysterious  visitation  of  God — the 
Persian  famine.  And  because  all  great  and  inex- 
plicable calamities  ]iain  loving  hearts,  and  sadden, 
if  they  do  not  obscure,  the  faith  of  many  souls,  it 
seems  worth  while  to  look  a  moment  at  this  subject 
of  inscrutable  providences. 

Here  is  this  cass  of  the  Persian  famine.  For 
unknown  years  the  Peisians  have  been  cutting  oi? 
their  trees,  and  dindni^hing  their  rain-fall  thereby. 
Nay,  not  only  has  the  removal  of  the  forests  de- 
creased the  supply,  but  it  has  wasted  whatever  rain 
fell.  For  the  roots  of  the  trees,  and  of  all  the 
innumerable  shrubs  and  bushes  and  vines  and  ferns 
that  thrive  in  their  shadow,  kept  the  ground  open 
and  held  the  water  in  countless  natural  wells  for 
the  use  of  the  soil  in  droughts.  But  all  the  under- 
growth dying  when  its  protecting  forests  were 
felled,  the  scanty  showers  percolated  into  the 
streams  at  once,  causing  rare  floods  and  frequent 
droughts.  The  droughts  yielded  no  harvests,  and 
no  harvests  were  followed  by  pestilence,  famine, 
and  death.  Now,  for  three  years  no  rain  has  fallen 
on  the  blistered  fields,  and  a  nation  apparently  is 
dying.  '1  he  very  first  drought  was  the  kindly 
warning  of  heaven  against  the  violation  of  natural 
laws.  Men  were  too  heedless  or  too  ignorant  to 
accept  it ;  and  the  sins  of  the  fatliers  are  to-day 
visited  on  the  children,  not  in  the  vengeance  of  an 
awful  Power,  but  in  the  discipline  of  relentless 
law.  Is  not  this  a  providence  so  scrutable  that  he 
who  runs  may  read  ? 

When,  in  Chicago,  a  night's  fire  undid  a  genera- 
tion's toil,  spreading  misery  and  death  broadcast, 


provid}:nce. 


(  677  ) 


PRO  VIDENCE. 


was  that  horror  in  the  least  degree  inexplicable  ? 
tvery  man  who,  within  th.rty  years,  had  put  up  a 
wooden  house  in  a  city  whose  familiar  breezes 
were  gales,  and  whose  gales  were  hurricanes,  soli- 
cited that  rain  of  fire.  They  who,  hasting  to  be 
rich,  fell  into  the  snare  of  cheap  and  dangerous 
building,  digged,  every  man,  a  pit  for  his  neigh- 
bour's feet  as  well  as  for  his  own  The  inscrutable 
aspect  of  the  calamity  was  that  it  had  not  come 
years  before.  And  the  providential  lesson  would 
seem  to  be  that  laws  of  matter  are  laws  of  God, 
and  canni)t  be  violated  with  impunity. 

When  the  earthquake  well-nigh  swallowed  up 
Peru  five  or  six  years  ago,  men  stood  aghast  at 
the  mysterious  dispensation.  But  Heaven  lias  not 
only  always  declared  that  tropical  countries  are 
liable  to  earthquakes,  but  had  taught  the  Peruvians 
through  hundreds  of  years  to  expect  two  earth- 
quakes in  a  century,  travelling  in  cycles  from  forty 
to  sixty  years  apart.  The  citizens  of  Arica  have 
not  only  this  general  instruction,  but  that  special 
warning  which  nature  always  gives.  A  great  light 
appeared  to  the  south-east.  Hollow  sounds  were 
heard.  The  dogs,  the  goats,  even  the  swine  fore- 
saw the  evil  and  hid  tliemselves.  But  the  simple 
men  passed  on  and  were  punished. 

Before  the  Alpine  freshets  come,  the  streams  are 
coffee-coloured.  Even  the  tornadoes  of  the  tropics, 
which  are  instantaneous  in  their  swoop,  so  plainly 
announce  themselves  to  old  sailors,  tiiat  they  reef 
sails  and  save  ship  and  life,  while  only  the  heedless 
perish.  The  simoom  gives  such  certain  and  invari- 
able warnings  that  the  caravan  is  safe  if  it  be  wary. 

Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  were  built  too  far  up 
the  mountain.  And  that  the  builders  knew  quite 
as  well  as  the  excavators  of  the  splendid  ruins  know 
it  now.  But  they  chose  to  take  the  risk.  And 
to-day  their  cheerful  compatriots  gather  their  heed- 
less vintage  and  sit  beneath  their  perilous  vines  still 
nearer  to  the  deadly  crater.  St.  Petersburg  has 
been  three  times  inundated,  and  after  each  most 
fatal  calamity  processions  filled  the  streets,  and 
masses  were  said  to  propitiate  the  mysterious  anger 
of  God.  Peter  the  Great,  who  built  the  city,  was 
the  successor  of  Canute.  He  ordered  the  Gulf  of 
Cronstaiit  to  retire,  and  then  set  down  his  capital 
in  the  swamps  of  the  verge  of  the  Neva.  When- 
ever the  river  breaks  up  with  the  spring  floods,  the 
trembling  citizens  are  at  sea  in  a  bowl.  Only  three 
times  has  the  bowl  broken,  so  much  money  ami 
skill  have  been  expended  upon  it.  But  when  a 
March  gale  shall  drive  the  tide  back  u]ion  the  river, 
swollen  and  terrible  with  drifting  ice,  drowned  St. 
Petersburg  will  be  the  pendant  for  burned  Chicago. 

Modern  science  has  brought  the  world  a  fifth 
gospel.  In  it  we  read  that  God  commands  us  to 
give  Him  our  whole  heads  as  well  as  our  whole 
hearts,  for  that  we  cannot  know  Him  nor  obey 
Him  till  we  discern  Him  in  every  minutest  fact, 
and  every  immutaljle  law  of  the  physical  universe, 
as  in  every  fact  and  law  of  the  moral.  It  is  barely 
two  hundred  years  since  the  great  Cotton  Mather 
preached  a  famous  sermon  called  *'  Burnings  Be- 
wailed," wherein  he  attributed  a  terrible  conflagra- 
tion to  the  wrath  of  God  kindled  against  Sabbath- 
breaking  and  the  accursed  fashion  of  monstrous 
periwigs !  For  years  after  his  time  the  Puritan 
colonies  held  fasis  for  mildew,  for  small-pox,  for 
caterpillars,  for  grasshoppers,  for  loss  of  cattle  by 
cold,  and  visitation  of  God.  They  saw  an  inscrut- 
able providence  in  all  *.bese  things.    But  when  their 


children  had  learned  a  better  husbandry  and  bettei 
sanitary  conditions  the  "visitations"  ceased. 

In  the  perfect  providence  of  God  there  are  no 
surprises.  If  there  seem  to  be,  it  is  tliat  we  have 
suffered  ourselves  to  be  taken  unawares.  We  must 
work  out  our  own  salvation.  The  book  of  natural 
phenomena  is  open  wide  before  every  man,  and  he 
IS  set  to  learn  it  for  his  own  good.  If  he  will  not 
study  it  through  reverence  and  love,  he  is  taught  it 
tiirough  pain.  But  the  pain  itself  is  the  beneficence 
of  a  perfect  law,  and  it  is  a  constant  testimony  to 
the  goodness  and  tenderness  of  God  that  calamity — 
not  less  than  prosperity — is  a  scrutable  providence. 

2.  They  are  never  real, 

(i.)  They  are  due  to  the  medium  through  which 
we  virjj  God's  proceedings, 

(4032.)  Take  a  straight  stick,  and  put  it  into  the 
water  ;  then  it  will  seem  crooked.  Why  ?  Because 
we  look  upon  it  through  two  mediums,  air  and 
water  :  there  lies  the  deceptio  visus ;  thence  it  is 
that  we  cannot  discern  aright.  Thus  the  pro- 
ceedings of  God,  in  His  justice,  which  in  them- 
selves are  straight,  without  the  least  obliquity,  seem 
unto  us  crooked  :  that  wicked  men  should  prosper, 
and  good  men  be  afllicted ;  that  the  Israelites 
should  make  the  bricks,  and  the  Egypiians  dwell 
in  the  houses  ;  that  servants  should  ride  on  horse- 
back, and  princes  go  on  foot  :  these  are  things  that 
make  the  best  Christians  stagger  in  their  judg- 
ments. And  --vhy  ?  Because  they  look  upon  God's 
proceedings  through  a  double  medium  of  flesh  and 
spirit,  so  tiiat  all  things  seem  to  go  cross,  though 
indeed  they  go  right  enough.  And  hence  it  is  that 
God's  proceedings,  in  His  justice,  are  not  so  well 
discerned,  the  eyes  of  man  alone  being  not  compe- 
tent judges  thereof.  — Fuller,  1608-1661. 

(2.)   They  are  due  to  the  limitedness  of  our  view. 

(4033.)  God  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ;  He  is  the 
great  commander  of  heaven  and  earth  ;  He  it  is 
that  directs  the  conflicts,  neither  are  any  put  to 
try  mastery,  no  field  pitched,  no  battle  fought,  but 
by  His  special  order  and  commission,  and  all  for 
the  accomplishment  of  His  glory.  But  it  befalleth 
us,  as  it  doth  with  them  which  stand  in  the  same 
level,  wherein  two  large  armies  are  ready  to  engage, 
tliey  conceive  them  to  be  a  disordered  multitude, 
whom  notwithstanding,  if  they  behold  from  a  hi;;h 
hill,  they  will  see  how  every  one  serveth  under  his 
own  colours.  Even  so  men  which  beheld  the  state 
of  the  world  with  the  eyes  of  flesh  and  blood,  dim 
by  reason  of  the  weakness  of  their  judgments  and 
weakness  of  tiieir  affections,  think  all  things  are 
out  of  order,  that  there  is  nothing  out  confusion 
and  disorder;  that  the  worse  men  are,  the  I'etter 
they  fare  ;  and  they  fare  the  worse,  the  beitei  I  hey 
are.  But  if  they  did  but  once  ascend  into  tlie 
sanctuary  of  God,  and  judge  of  occurrences  by 
heavenly  principles,  then  tiiey  would  confess  that 
no  army  on  earth  can  be  better  marshalled  than 
the  great  army  of  all  the  creatures  of  heaven  and 
earth  ;  and  that,  notwitiistanding  all  appearance  to 
the  contrary,  all  is  well,  and  will  end  well  ;  that 
God,  who  is  the  God  of  order,  will  bring  light  out 
of  darkness,  and  order  out  of  the  greatest  confu- 
sion, could  they  have  but  patience,  and  let  Him 
alone  with  His  own  work.  — Spencer,  1658. 

(4034.)  The  ways  of  God  in  His  providence  often 
appear  truly  mysterious  to  u&     This  arises,  how. 


PROVIDENCE. 


(    678    ) 


PROVIDENCE. 


ever,  from  our  ignorance  aid  incapacity  to  com- 
prehend the  yrani-leur  of  Kis  designs.  In  this 
present  probaiionary  and  disciplinary  state,  it 
pleases  Him  often  to  conceal  from  us  the  ends 
which  He  has  in  view  in  His  procedure.  He 
gradually  unfolds  it,  by  a  concatenation  of  cir- 
cumstances and  events  which,  in  the  issue,  fulfil 
His  purpose.  In  this  case,  it  behoves  us  patiently 
to  wait  until  the  whole  mystery  be  unveiled,  and 
not  rashly  censure  or  condenm  what  is  too  lofty  for 
our  feeble  conception,  or  too  profound  for  our 
investigation Our  situation  may  be  com- 
pared to  a  traveller  in  an  unknown  land,  who 
arrives  at  the  banks  of  a  spacious  river,  whose 
streams  seem  to  flow  gently,  or  more  rapidly — to 
be  clear  as  crystal,  or  dark  and  turbid,  according 
to  the  position  or  the  time  on  which  he  has  fallen. 
He  gazes  aiound  him,  and  strains  the  powers  of  his 
vision  to  the  utmost  stretch  to  follow  its  sinuous 
course  on  either  hand  ;  but  he  is  utterly  unable  to 
trace  it  either  to  its  source,  or  to  follow  it  to  the 
ocean  into  which  its  pours  the  fulness  of  its  waters. 
So  it  is  with  us.  It  is  only  a  small  portion  of  the 
ways  of  God  we  can  comprehend.         — Ewing. 

(3. )  They  are  due  to  the  fact  that  the  providences 
we  criticise  are  incomplete. 

(4035.)  The  book  of  Providence  is  not  so  easily 
read  as  that  of  Nature ;  its  wisdom  in  design  and 
perfection  in  execution  are  by  no  means  as  plain. 
Here,  God's  way  is  often  in  the  sea,  His  path  in 
the  nughty  waters,  and  His  footsteps  are  not  known. 
But  that  is  because  the  scheme  of  providence  is  not, 
like  creation,  a  finished  work.  I'ake  a  man  to  a 
house  when  the  architect  is  in  the  middle  of  his 
plan,  and  with  walls  half  built,  and  arches  half 
sprung,  rooms  without  doors,  and  pillars  without 
capitals,  what  appears  perfect  order  to  the  architect 
who  has  the  plan  all  in  his  eye,  to  the  other  will 
seem  a  scene  of  perfect  confusion.  And  so  stands 
man  amid  that  vast  scheme  of  providence  which 
God  began  six  thousand  years  ago,  and  may  not 
finish  for  as  many  thousand  years  to  come.  Raised 
to  the  throne  of  Egypt,  Joseph  saw  why  God  had 
permitted  him  to  be  cast  mto  a  pit,  sold  into 
slavery,  and,  though  innocent  of  any  crime,  com- 
mitted to  prison.  And  raiscil  to  lieaven,  looking 
back  on  God's  dealings  with  him  in  this  world,  and 
seeing  how  there  was  not  a  turn  in  the  road  nor  a 
crook  in  his  lot  but  was  good,  how  his  trials  turned 
out  blessings,  and  that,  while  others  lost  by  their 
gains,  he  gained  by  every  loss,  the  saint,  now  that 
God's  works  of  providence  stand  liefore  him  in  all 
their  completeness,  shall  take  his  harp,  and  throw- 
ing his  soul  into  the  song,  sing  with  the  rest  around 
the  throne — "  Great  and  marvellous  are  Thy  works. 
Lord  CJod  Almii;hty  ;  just  and  true  are  Thy  ways, 
Thou  King  of  saints."  — Guthrie. 

(4.)  They  are  due  to  our  ignorance  and  immaturity, 

(4036.)  Revelation  and  Provitlence  never  stagger 
me.  Ihere  may  be  a  terlium  quid,  though  we  are 
not  yet  in  possession  of  it,  which  would  put  an  end 
to  all  our  present  doubts  and  questions.  I  was  one 
day  riding  with  a  friend  ;  we  were  discussing  a 
subject,  and  I  expressed  myself  surprised  that  such 
a  measure  was   not  adopted.      "  It   1   were  to  tell 

Jou  one  ihing,"  said  he,  "it  would  make  all  clear." 
gave  him  credit  that  there  did  exist  something 
which  would  entiiely  dispel  my  objeciiois.  Now 
if  this  be  the  case,  in  many  instances,  between  man 


and  man,  is  it  an  unreasonable  conclusion  that  all 
the  unaccountable  points  which  we  may  observe  in 
the  providence  and  government  of  God  should  be 
all  perfection  in  the  Divine  Mind?  Take  the 
growth  of  a  seed — I  cannot  possibly  say  what  first 
produces  the  progress  of  growth  in  the  grain.  Take 
voluntary  motion — I  cannot  possibly  say  where 
action  begins  and  thought  ends.  The  proportion 
between  a  fly's  mind  and  a  man's  is  no  adequate 
illustration  of  the  state  of  man  with  respect  to  God, 
because  there  is  some  proportion  between  the  minds 
or  faculties  of  two  finite  creatures,  but  there  can  t)e 
none  between  finite  man  and  the  Infinite  God. 

— Cecil,  1 748-1810. 

(4037)  Must  not  the  conduct  of  a  parent  seem 
very  unaccountable  to  a  child  when  its  inclinations 
are  thwarted  ;  when  it  is  put  to  learn  letters  ;  when 
it  is  obliged  to  swallow  bitter  physic  ;  to  part  with 
what  it  likes,  and  to  suffer,  and  do,  and  see  many 
things  done  contrary  to  its  own  judgment?  Will 
it  not,  therefore,  follow  from  hence,  by  a  parity  of 
reason,  that  the  little  cluld-wa«,  when  it  takes  upon 
itself  to  judge  of  parental  providence — a  thing  of 
yesterday  to  criticise  the  economy  of  the  Ancient  of 
Days — will  it  not  follow,  I  say,  that  such  a  judge 
of  such  matters  must  be  apt  to  make  very  erroneous 
judgments,  esteeming  those  things  in  themselves 
unaccountable  which  he  cannot  account  for  ;  and 
concluding  of  some  things,  from  an  appearance  of 
arbitrary  carriage  towards  him,  which  is  suited  to 
his  infancy  and  ignorance,  that  they  are  in  them- 
selves capricious  or  absurd,  and  cannot  proceed 
from  a  wise,  just,  and  benevolent  God  ? 

— Bishop  Berkeley,  1684-1753. 

3.  Must  be  judged  by  ua  reverently. 

(403S.)  This  is  certain,  that  God  is  infinitely  just, 
whether  or  no  we  apprehend  He  is  so.  It  is 
impossible  for  God  to  do  anything  but  what  is 
right  ;  but  it  is  very  possible  for  us,  who  are  weak 
and  fallible  at  the  best,  not  always  to  discern  it. 
When  we  tliink  His  ways  are  imperfect,  we  should 
remember,  that  the  imperfection  is  only  in  our  mis- 
understanding. It  is  not  the  ground  or  the  trees 
that  turn  round  ;  but  the  truth  is  we  are  giddy,  and 
think  so. 

For  us,  in  all  God's  dealings,  to  acknowledge 
the  undoubted  equity  of  His  principles,  and  our 
ignorance  of  His  methods,  is  not  only  humility,  but 
philosophy  ;  for  it  shows  that  we  have  arrived  at 
tlie  top  of  knowledsje,  even  to  understand  both  God 
and  ourselves.  Much  to  contemplate  in  God, 
frequently  to  consider  Him  and  study  His  nature, 
though  we  do  it  but  as  philosophers  in  a  sovereign 
way  to  be  satisfied  and  resoived  about  the  reason 
of  all  His  actions.  Because  I  cannot  see  the  light, 
sliall  I  say,  tliat  the  sun  does  not  shine?  Tiieie 
may  be  many  reasons  that  may  hinder  me.  Some- 
thing may  cover  the  eye,  or  the  clouds  may  cover 
the  sun,  or  it  may  be  in  another  horizon,  as  in  the 
night  ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  the  sun,  as  long  as  it 
is  a  sun,  not  to  shine. 

Now  tliis  tends  to  compose  men's  doubts,  and  to 
confute  their  murmurings,  and  to  set  God  clear  in 
their  esteem,  upon  supposition  of  any  of  His  deal- 
ings whatsoever.  For  although  God's  ways  are 
intricate  and  unsearchable,  yet  we  may  undertake 
to  give  a  reason  of  tlieni  so  lar,  as  to  take  off  the 
cavil  and  the  reprehen~i<m.  though  not  the  wonder. 

Therefore,  when  such  difficulties  occur,  we  should 


PROVIDENCE. 


(    679    ) 


PRO  VIDENCE. 


/emember  to  cast  one  eye  upon  God's  absolute 
power,  and  the  other  upon  His  essential  righteous- 
ness J  tiirough  the  former  of  which  He  may  do 
what  He  will,  through  the  latter  He  cannot  will 
anything  but  what  is  just. 

— South,  1633-17 16. 

(4039,)  Placed  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
universe,  where  only  a  small  proportion  of  God's 
works  passes  under  his  review  ;  fixed  in  a  valley, 
whose  surrounding  hills  intercept  his  prospects  :  a 
prisoner  even  there,  looking  only  through  grates 
and  bars;  his  very  dungeon  enveloped  in  mists  and 
fogs  ;  his  eyes  almost  dim  by  reason  of  weakness — 
such  is  man  ! — and  this  vain  man  would  be  wise  ; — 
this  is  the  candidate  who  deems  himself,  by  his 
proposal,  capable  of  governing,  and  wishes  to 
arrange  things  according  to  his  mind. 

My  brethren,  have  you  not  often  found  your- 
selves mistaken,  where  you  thought  yourselves 
most  sure?  Have  you  not  frequently  erred  in 
judging  yourselves,  and  generally  erred  in  judging 
others?  Do  you  not  blame  those  who  condemn 
any  of  your  proceedings  before  they  understand 
them,  especially  when  the  objects  on  which  they 
decide  fall  not  within  the  sphere  of  their  knowledge 
or  observation  ?  What  would  you  think  of  a  sub- 
ject who,  scarcely  competent  to  guide  the  petty 
concerns  of  his  own  household,  would  rush  forth 
to  assume  the  direction  of  the  affairs  of  an  enlarged 
empire,  after  censuring  measures  which  he  does  not 
comprehend,  cannot  comprehend  ;  whose  labyrinths 
he  cannot  trace,  whose  extensive  bearings  he  cannot 
reach,  whose  distant  consequences  he  cannot  calcu- 
late? All  this  imagery  is  weak  when  applied  to 
"  tlie  man  who  stiiveth  with  his  Maker,"  and 
asks,  "Whatdoest  Thou?"  For  whatever  differences 
subsist  between  man  and  man,  all  are  partakers  of 
the  same  nature,  and  all  are  liable  to  error — But 
"in  God  there  is  no  darkne-s  at  all." — "Is  there 
unrighteousness  with  God  ?  God  forbid  :  how  then 
could  God  judge  the  world?" 

If  we  know  not  the  peculiarities  of  the  disea>;e, 
how  can  we  judge  properly  of  the  remedy  which 
the  physician  prescribes?  If  we  know  not  the 
station  which  the  son  is  destinetl  to  occupy,  how 
can  we  judge  of  the  wisdom  of  the  father  in  the 
education  he  is  giving  him  ?  And  how  can  we 
decide  on  the  means  which  the  Supreme  Being 
employs,  while  we  are  ignorant  of  the  reasons 
which  move  Him,  and  the  plan  which  He  holds  in 
view? — A  providence  occurs;  it  strikes  us;  we 
endeavour  to  explain  it — but  are  we  certain  that 
'.>'e  have  seized  the  true  meaning?  Perhaps  what 
we  take  as  an  end,  may  be  only  the  way  ;  what  we 
take  as  the  whole,  may  be  only  a  part ;  what  we 
deprecate  may  be  a  blessing,  and  what  we  implore 
may  be  a  curse  ;  what  appears  confusion,  may  be 
the  tendency  of  order  ;  and  what  looks  like  the 
disaster  of  Providence,  may  be  tlie  preparation  of 
its  triumph.  Before  we  begin  to  reform,  let  us  be 
satisfied  an  amendment  is  necessary  ;  and  before 
we  censure,  let  us  understand. 

—Jay,  1769-1853. 

4.  Must  be  acquiesced  In  bellevlngly. 

(4040.)  Bl.ssed  it  will  be  for  us  amid  all  these 
frowning  providences,  if,  instead  of  presuming  in 
a  spirit  of  unbelief  and  distrust  to  ask,  "  \\  hat 
eeelvcst  Thou  ? "  we  are  ready  to  hear  the  voice  of 
the  Unknown   and  Invisible  saying,   "Hold    thee 


still ;  and  know  that  I  am  God  1 "  The  dutiful 
servant  asks  no  reason  of  his  master  ;  he  does  his 
appointed  work  in  silent  obedience.  The  loyal 
soldier  asks  no  reason  of  his  commanding  officer 
for  what  he  may  think  the  hazardous  and  fatal 
movements  in  the  day  of  battle  ;  he  obeys  in 
prompt  and  willing  silence.  The  faithful  workman 
ask  no  reason  for  these  rude  gashes  in  the  quarry  ; 
he  is  content  to  wait  till  builder  or  sculptor  fashions 
the  unshapely  block  into  symmetry  and  beauty.  We 
are  apt,  with  Joseph,  in  our  blind  ignorance,  to  say, 
"  Not  so,  my  father  ; "  but,  like  aged  Jacob  on  that 
same  occasion,  God  refuses  our  erring  dictation, 
our  unwise  counsel,  paying,  "I  know  it,  my  son,  I 
know  it."  It  is  the  grandest  triumph  of  faith  thus 
to  confide  in  the  Divine  leadings  in  the  dark. 

—Macduff. 

(4041.)  The  mind  of  a  pious  workman,  named 
Thierney,  was  much  occupied  with  the  ways  of 
God,  which  appeared  to  him  full  of  inscrutable 
mysteries.  The  two  questions,  "How?"  arid 
"Why?"  were  constantly  in  his  thoughts — ■ 
whether  he  considered  his  own  life,  or  the  dis- 
pensations of  providence  in  the  government  of  tlie 
world.  One  day,  in  visiting  a  ribbon  manufactory, 
his  attention  was  attracted  by  an  extraordinary 
piece  of  machinery.  Countless  wheels  and  thou- 
sands of  threads  were  twirling  in  all  directions  ; 
he  coulil  understand  nothing  ol  its  movements.  He 
was  informed,  however,  that  all  this  motion  was 
connected  with  the  centre,  where  there  was  a  chest 
which  was  kept  shut.  Anxious  to  understand  the 
principle  of  the  machine,  he  asked  permission  to 
see  the  interior.  "The  master  has  the  key,"  was 
the  reply.  The  viords  were  like  a  flash  of  light. 
Here  was  the  answer  to  all  the  perplexed  thoughts. 
Yes  ;  the  master  has  the  key.  He  guverns  and 
directs  all.  It  is  enough.  What  need  I  know 
more?  "He  hath  also  established  them  for  ever 
and  ever  :  He  hath  made  a  decree  which  shall  not 
pass  " 

6.  The  point  from  whicli  they  are  to  be  solved. 

(4042.)  During  more  than  fifty  centuries  man  had 
fixed  his  gaze  on  the  starry  sky,  observing  the 
motions  of  the  planets,  and  seeking  to  trace  their 
laws ;  observations  increased,  calculations  became 
more  exact,  and  yet  notwithstanding  all  this  the 
law  of  harmony  eluded  the  search  of  learned  men  ; 
the  worlds,  as  far  as  they  knew,  performed  eccentric 
circles,  the  object  of  which  they  could  not  com- 
prehend. The  universe  was  a  confused  maze,  a  laby- 
rinth which  baffled  them.  One  day  a  man  of 
genius  said  to  himself,  "The  worlds  must  be  con- 
sidered with  reference  to  the  sun,  and  not  with 
reference  to  the  earth."  He  placed  the  sun  as  the 
centre,  and  directly  the  harmony  appeared  ;  every- 
thing was  explained,  the  planets  and  their  satellites 
traced  out  their  regular  orbits,  and  the  system  of 
the  universe  was  discovered.  God  is  the  sun  of 
spirits,  and  the  true  centre  of  the  universe  ;  and  it 
is  from  the  heart  of  His  truth  alone  that  we  caa 
judge  of  the  law  of  our  destinies. 

— Eugene  BersUr, 

6.  Their  solution  must  be  awaited  patiently. 

(4043.)  Adonibezec  instructed  by  his  punishment 
concerning  his  sins,  gave  glory  to  God  :  "Three- 
score and  ten  kings,  havnig  their  thumbs  and  their 
great  toes  cut  oft,  gathered  their  meat  under  my 


PROVIDENCE. 


(     680    ) 


PROVIDENCE. 


table  :  as  I  have  done,  so  God  hath  rewarded  me." 
It  astonished  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  virtuous  of 
the  Romans,  that  Pompey  should  perish  in  the 
defence  of  the  juster  cause,  and  Ccesar  prosper  in 
his  violent  usurpation;  but  if  he  had  lived  a  while 
longer,  and  seen  the  usurper  killed  in  the  senate- 
house  that  Pompey  had  dedicated  to  the  common- 
wealth, where  Caesar  then  exercised  his  tyranny, 
and  that  dying  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  Pompey's  statue, 
all  stained  with  his  blood,  the  darkness  had  been 
dispelled,  and  providence  cleaied  up  to  his  sight. 
Herod  for  assenting  to  the  impious  flattery  of  the 
people  who  deified  him,  was  immediately  struck 
with  a  shameful  disease,  and  consumed  by  wretched 
vermin,  as  the  just  punishment  of  his  pride.  Pope 
Alexander  the  Sixth,  was  poisoned  with  that  wine 
he  had  prepared  for  the  murdering  some  rich  car- 
dinals, Henry  HI.  of  France  was  cut  off  by 
a  stroke  as  dreadful  as  unexpected,  on  that  day  of 
the  month  and  in  that  chamber  where  he  was  pre- 
sident of  the  council  that  contrived  the  bloody 
massacie  of  the  Protestants.  — Bates,  1 625-1 699. 

(4044.)  The  sentences  in  the  book  of  providence 
are  sometimes  long,  and  you  must  read  a  great 
way  before  you  understand  their  meaning, 

— Matthew  Henry,  1662-17 14. 

(4045.)  That  great  chain  of  causes,  which,  link- 
ing one  to  another,  even  to  the  throne  of  God  Him- 
self, can  never  be  unravelled  by  any  industry  of 
ours.  — Burke,  1 728-1797. 

(4046.)  The  Lord  has  reasons,  far  beyond  our 
ken,  for  opening  a  wide  door,  while  He  stops  the 
mouth  of  a  useful  preacher.  John  Bunyan  would 
not  have  done  half  the  good  he  did,  if  he  had 
remained  preaching  in  Bedford,  instead  of  being 
shut  up  in  Bedford  prison, 

—Newton,  1725-1807. 

(4047.)  However  contradictory  the  designs  of 
Providence  at  first  appear  to  be,  if  we  set  ourselves 
to  watch  God  in  His  works  and  ways  with  care, 
we  shall  soon  discover  that  He  acts  according  to 
some  certain  scheme  or  plan. 

Were  a  person  altogether  unacquainted  with 
architecture  to  visit  some  splendid  temple  in  the 
process  of  erection,  and  observe  the  huge  rough 
stones,  and  boards,  and  timbers,  iron  castings, 
bricks,  lime,  mortar,  lying  scattered  in  confusion 
all  around  ;  were  he  to  see  one  group  of  workmen 
cutting  up  material  here,  another  digging  trenches 
there ;  one  party  raising  a  staging  on  this  side, 
another  nailing  on  some  boards  on  that :  were  he 
to  observe  the  blocks,  the  fragments,  dust  and 
rubbish,  tools  and  instruments,  all  lying  in  disorder 
round  about  him,  he  might  truly  say  that  he  could 
see  no  plan  or  system  in  the  business ;  nor  would 
he  be  likely  to  conceive  or  dream  that  out  of  such 
a  chaotic  mass  of  raw  material,  out  of  such  con- 
tradictory labour,  there  could  ever  rise  a  magnifi- 
cent temple,  to  reflect  undying  honour  on  the 
architect,  and  beautify  the  world  ! 

But  let  the  observer  stop,  and  set  himself  to 
watch  from  day  to  day  the  busy  work  as  it  goes  on  ; 
let  him  patiently  examine,  not  only  the  minutest 
details,  but  also  try  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  general 
scope  and  bearing  of  the  whole,  and  he  will  not  be 
long  in  finding  out  that  some  superior  mind  con- 
trols and  regulates  the  movements  in  accordance 
with  some  preconceived    plan  01   system,    which 


is  constantly  developing  itself;  and  that  every 
stroke  of  every  workman  is  conducive  to  the  same 
ultimate  effect. 

And  when  he  comes  to  see  the  "beau  ideal"  of 
the  builder  realised  in  the  fair  proportions,  in  the 
classic  beauty  of  the  noble  structure,  he  then  per- 
ceives how  inconsiderate,  how  unfair  it  was  in  him 
to  decide  upon  a  work  in  its  inci,iient  state,  with- 
out some  knowledge  of  the  plan  and  the  design 
of  it. 

God  is  building  up  the  Christian  in  accordance 
with  a  perfect  plan  into  a  majestic  temple  for  the 
decoration  of  the  eternal  city. 

And  though  His  dealings  sometimes  seem  to  be 
mysterious ;  though  He  seems  to  cut  down  here 
and  to  raise  up  there,  to  let  the  light  into  this  part 
and  to  leave  it  dark  in  that  ;  though  it  is  hard  to 
tell  at  times  what  such  material  is  designed  for, 
what  this  or  that  work  means,  or  to  conceive  how 
the  structure  when  completed  will  appear ;  it  is 
nevertheless  quite  certain  that  God  acts  according 
to  a  fixed  and  unalterable  plan  ;  that  every  stroke 
we  bear,  or  loss  we  mourn,  is  made  subservient  to 
the  end  ;  and  although  it  is  given  us  here  to  see 
only  in  part,  whoever  will  take  the  pains  to  watch 
with  care  the  course  of  providence  will  be  convinced 
that  it  does  not  move  along  by  chance,  but  that 
everything  is  done  by  a  prospective  plan, 

— E.  NasoH. 

(4048.)  Those  who  have  ever  traversed  the  plains 
of  Mexico  have  seen  the  Cactacece  family.  The  cac- 
tus has  an  ungainly  leaf,  fat  and  thick,  and  full  of 
thorns,  so  that,  when  men  see  it  growing,  they  say, 
"  It  is  a  clumsy  and  hateful  thing,  that  is  ugly  to 
look  upon,  and  that  pierces  you  whenever  yoa 
touch  it."  Wait.  When  at  last  that  plant,  which 
grows  in  arid  places,  where  hardly  any  weed  will 
grow,  with  thick  and  succulent  leaves,  and  a  tough 
skin,  and  which  stands  almost  without  root  through 
the  whole  year — when,  at  last,  it  has  come  to  the 
point  where  it  is  developed,  is  there  in  the  whole 
kingdom  of  beauty  a  blossom  that  is  for  exquisite- 
ness  of  form  and  tint  equal  to  the  cactus  blossom  ? 
It  is  the  very  perfection  of  beauty  growing  out  of 
the  very  emblem  of  homeliness.  And  as  it  is  with 
the  vegetable  kingdom,  so  is  it  with  many  develop- 
ments of  the  Divine  Kingdom.  God's  providence 
looks  like  a  cactus-leaf — like  an  arid  plant  growing 
uselessly  in  the  wilderness.  But  wait  till  it  blos- 
soms, and  see  how  glorious  is  its  beauty. 

— Beecher, 

III.    TRUST  IN  PROVIDENCE, 

1.  Is  always  to  be  exercised. 

(l.)  Even  in  the  greatest  straits  of  life. 

(4049. )  I  have  a  story  which  I  think  will  interest 
you  if  you  will  try  to  listen  to  it,  of  a  man  in  Lon- 
don fifty  years  ago  or  more — at  a  time  when  there 
used  to  be  not  £^^  notes  only,  but  £\  notes.  Well, 
there  were  two  gentlemen  who  had  met  each  other 
walking  about  in  the  streets.  One  was  a  minister 
of  some  chapel,  and  he  did  not  know  the  other 
when  he  came  up  and  spoke  to  him,  but  the 
gentleman  knew  him  very  well.  They  walked  along 
and  began  to  talk,  and  at  last  the  gentleman  intro- 
duced the  minister  into  his  house.  The  minister 
hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  it.  He  was  very 
friendly  with  him,  but  he  did  not  quite  understand 
him.  He  took  him  up  into  the  upper  rooms  and  then 
he  sat  down  with  him  in  the  parlour,  and  he  said. 


PROVIDENCE. 


?    68r     ) 


PROVIDENCE. 


*'  You  wonder  why  I  am  showing  you  these  things. 
Now,  you  don't  remember  me,  but  I  remember  you." 
He    said,    "Many  years  ago  I  came  to  this  town 
of  London  as  a  workman  " — (an  iron  workman,  I 
think  he  was) — and  then    he  went  on  to  say  that 
he  had  come  all  the  way  from  Scotland,  and  brought 
his  wife  with  him,  and  they  had  lived  in  London. 
He  had  been  ill  and  out  of  work  for  some  months. 
He  had  pawned  his  things  ;  nobody  had  befriended 
him,  and  he  had  been  reduced  from  a  state  of  being 
comparatively  well-off  ...i  a  working  man  till  he  had 
got  lower  and  lower,  and  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
He  had  no  bread  in  the  house — nothing  at  all — and 
he  did  not  know  where  to  get  anything.      It  was  a 
Sunday  morning,  and  he  set  off  with  the  intention 
of  going  and  drowning  himself.     He  got  up  early 
in  the    morning,  and   he  went  on  till  he  passed  a 
chapel  where    this    minister  was    preaching.       He 
went  pa'-t  it,  and  he  saw  people  going  in.     In  some 
places  they  preached  early  in  the  morning.     And 
he  said,  "  Well,  I  will  just  go  and  sit  down  there 
before  I  drown  myself;"  and  he  went  in  and  sat 
down,  and  the  sermon  of  that  minister  went  home 
to  his    heart.      The    minister    told    him  of  God's 
loving-kindness  and  tender  mercy  to  the  poor  sinner, 
until  the  thought  of  that  love  entered  into  the  heart 
of  that  poor  man.     And  he  said  at  the  close  of  the 
sermon,  "Now,  my  dear  friends,  put  the  God  of 
Israel  to  the  test,  and  see  if  it  is  not  as  I  have  said. 
I  have  been  telling  you  of  His  love,  and  now  I  ask 
you  to  come  to  Him  now,  and  put  Him  to  the  test, 
and  see  whether  it  is  not  as  I  have   said."     And 
this  poor  man  said  to  himself,   "Well,   I  will  go 
home,  and   I   will  put  my  trust  in  Him.     He  says 
that  He  will  listen  to  the  voice  of  those  who  come 
to  Him.     Well,  I  wi//  put  Him  to  the  test."     He 
went  home  straight  to  his  wife  and  he  said,  "Let 
us  have  a  little  reading  of  the  Bible."      She  was 
touched  to  the  heart,  for  they  had  come  from  Scot- 
land and  used  to  read  the  Bible,  but  for  many  years 
they  had  forgotten  it  entirely.       The  wife   agreed 
directly,  and  she  wondered  what  it  was  that  had 
induced  him.      And  then  he  read  a  chapter,  and 
knelt  down  and  earnestly  besought  God  to  forgive 
him  his  sin,  and  also  that  He  would  give  him  food 
and  show  him  how  to  go  on.     Well,  there  was  no 
food  to  eat  that  day.    They  prayed  again  and  again, 
that  God  would  send  them  a  deliverance  from  their 
trouble  ;  that  He  would,  in  some  way,  help  them 
out  of  their  trouble,  and  earnestly  bei;ged  God  to 
forgive  them  their  sin.     Next  day,  in  the  morning, 
there  came  a  letter  to  the   house.     It  was  a  long 
time    since   they  had   had  a  letter  from    anybody. 
They  opened  it  and  found  it  came  from  a  man  who 
knew  them  years  back,  and  knew  that  they  were 
in  trouble,  and  he  said,  "I  have  heard  of  such  and 
such  a  place  where   they  are  seeking  a  workman. 
If  you  go   there  you  will  find,  I  think,  that  the 
master  of  the  place  will  give  you  employment,  and 
here  is  a  one-pound  note  to  help  you  in  the  mean- 
time."    The  man  felt  he  had  put  the  God  of  Israel 
to  the  test,  and  God  had  answered  his  prayer.     He 
went  to  the  place  indicated  ;  and  as  he  was  really 
a  good  workman,  he  was  employed,  and  soon  got 
on.     After  a  few  years  he  became  foreman  ;  after 
that,   partner  in   the  business  ;    and   after   that,    I 
believe,  he  was  pretty  much  the  sole  manager  of  it ; 
and  when  he  met  the  minister,  he  was  a  rich  man. 
And  he  said  to  the  minister,  "  All  this  is  owing  to 
your  sermon  that  day.    It  was,  through  Jesus  Christ, 
blessed  to  my  souL     Now  I  have  left  ofT  my  wicked 


ways  ;  I  have  come  and  trusted  in  G<A,  and  I  have 
not  only  blessings  around  me,  but  I  have  a  hope  of 
blessedness  hereafter  in  the  world  to  come." 

— Scivell, 

(2.)  Even  when  God's  providences  run  counter  to 
our  ideas  and  expectations. 

(4050.)  The  ways  of  the  husbandman  in  ordering 
his  Iruit-trees  are  very  strange  to  most  people  :  some 
things  seem  contrary  to  reason,  when  he  cuts  down 
or  digs  up  some  fair  large  trees,  beautiful  to  look 
upon,  and  sets  small  weak  plants  in  their  stead, 
and  cuts  off  some  large  tops  and  branches  of  otliers, 
and  grafts  only  a  lew  little  twigs  in  their  room, 
wrapt  about  with  a  lump  of  clay  ;  when  in  winter 
he  prunes  his  trees  and  lays  their  roots  bare,  and 
scoies  and  cuts  their  bodies  on  every  side.  These 
(and  many  such  like  works)  are  strange  to  most 
men  ;  they  have  other  thoughts  of  them  than  the 
husbandman  hath. 

This  shadows  out  unto  us  that  the  dispensations 
of  God  towards  His  Church  are  contrary  to  the 
judgments  of  most  people  in  the  world. 

— Austen,  1656. 

(4051.)  The  providences  of  God  are  sometimes 
dark,  and  our  eyes  dim,  and  we  can  hardly  tell 
what  to  make  of  them  :  but  when  we  cannot  un- 
riddle providence,  believe  it  shall  work  together 
for  the  good  of  the  elect  (Rom.  viii.  28).  The 
wheels  in  a  watch  seem  to  move  cross  one  to 
another,  but  they  help  forward  the  motion  of  the 
watch,  and  make  the  alarum  strike  :  so  the  provi- 
dences of  God  seem  to  be  cross  wheels  ;  but,  for 
all  that,  they  shall  carry  on  the  good  of  the  elect. 
The  pricking  of  a  vein  is  in  itself  evil  and  hurtful  ; 
but  as  it  prevents  a  fever,  and  tends  to  the  health 
of  the  patient,  so  it  is  good  :  so  affliction  in  itself 
is  not  joyous,  but  grievous ;  but  the  Lord  turns  this 
to  the  good  of  His  saints.  Poverty  shall  starve, 
their  sins,  afHictions  shall  prepare  them  lor  a  king- 
dom. Therefore,  Christians,  believe  that  God 
loves  us,  that  He  will  make  the  most  cross  provi- 
dences to  promote  His  glory  and  our  good. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(3.)  Even  when  God's  providences  seem  to  run 
counter  to  His  promises. 

(4052.)  The  wheels  in  a  clock  move  contrary  one 
to  another,  some  one  way,  some  another,  yet  all 
serve  the  intent  of  the  workman,  to  show  the  time, 
or  to  make  the  clock  to  strike.  So  in  the  world, 
the  providences  of  God  may  seem  to  run  cross  to 
His  promises :  one  man  takes  this  way,  another 
runs  that  way ;  good  men  go  one  way,  wicked  men 
another ;  yet  all  in  conclusion  accomplish  the  will 
and  centre  in  the  purpose  of  God,  the  great  Creator 
of  all  things.  — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(4053.)  God  is  to  be  trusted  when  His  providences 
seem  to  run  contrary  to  His  promises.  Goo  pro- 
mised David  to  give  him  the  crown,  to  make  him 
king;  but  providence  runs  contrary  to  His  promise  : 
David  was  pursued  by  Saul,  was  in  danger  of  his 
life  ;  but  all  this  while  it  was  David's  duty  to  trust 
God.  The  Lord  doth  oftentimes,  by  cross  provid* 
ence,  bring  to  pass  His  promise.  God  promised 
Paul  the  lives  of  ail  that  were  with  him  in  the  ship; 
but  now  the  providence  of  God  seems  to  run  quite 
contrary  to  His  promise  ;  the  winds  blow,  the  ship 
splits  and  breaks  in  pieces  ;  and  thus  God  fulfilled 
His  promise ;  upon  the  broken  pieces  of  the  ship, 


PROVIDENCE. 


(    682    ) 


PROVIDENCE. 


they  all  came  safe  to  shore.     Trust  God  when  pro- 
vidences seem  to  run  quite  contrary  to  promises. 
—  Watson,  1696. 

2.  Reasons  for  exercising  It. 

(i.)  Because  distrust  grieves  the  Divine  Spirit. 

(4054.)  We  are  apt  to  distrust  the  providential 
care  of  God,  and  so  to  grieve  the  Divine  Spirit. 

We  should  feel  ourselves  very  much  offended  if 
our  children  manifested  by  their  words  or  acts  a 
suspicion  or  fear  that  we  did  not  care  for  them. 
What  would  a  mother  think  if  in  the  forenoon  she 
overheard  her  girls  counselling  with  each  other,  and 
wondering  whether  there  would  be  any  provision 
made  for  their  dinner  !  What  would  be  tiiought  of 
children  who  should  sit  together  and  query  whether 
their  mother  and  father  would  think  that  they 
needed  clothes  for  the  summer  and  the  winter,  and 
discuss  in  the  coolest  manner  their  affairs  on  the 
theory  that  their  parents  would  overlook  them  and 
forget  them,  and  form  their  own  plans  upon  the 
ground  that  there  was  a  necessity  for  it  ? 

— Beecher. 

(2.)  Because  all  things  are  in  GocTs  hand, 
(4055.)  Well  might  we  be  distracted  with  these 
troubles,  if  we  did  not  well  know  whence  they 
come,  even  from  a  most  wise,  holy,  powerful,  just 
Providence.  He  that  sits  in  heaven  orders  these 
earthly  affairs,  according  to  tke  eternal  counsel  of 
His  will.  It  is  that  Almighty  hand  that  holds  the 
stern  of  this  tossed  vessel  ;  and  steers  it  in  that 
course  which  He  knows  best.  It  is  not  for  us, 
that  are  passengers,  to  meddle  with  the  chart  or 
compass.  Let  that  all-skilful  Pilot  alone  with 
His  own  work  :  He  knows  every  rock  and  shelf 
that  may  endanger  it,  and  can  cut  the  proudest 
billow  that  threatens  it  with  ease.  "  It  is  the 
Lord  :  let  Him  do  what  seemeth  Him  good." 

—Hall,  1574-1656. 

(3.)  Because  nothing  can  take  Him  by  surprise. 

(4056.)  Everything  in  the  future  is  appointed. 
Nothing  shall  happen  to  us  which  God  has  not 
foreseen.  .  .  .  We  may  derive  no  small  comfort 
from  this  fact  :  for  suppose  one  goes  to  sea  under 
the  most  skilful  captain,  that  captain  cannot 
possibly  know  what  may  occur  during  the  voyage, 
and  with  the  greatest  foresight  he  can  never 
promise  an  absolutely  safe  passage.  There  may  be 
dangers  which  he  has  never  yet  encountered — 
Atlantic  waves,  tornadoes,  and  hurricanes  that 
may  yet  sweep  the  good  ship  away,  and  they  that 
sailed  out  of  port  merrily  may  never  reach  the 
haven.  But  when  you  come  into  the  ship  of  Pro- 
vidence, He  who  is  at  the  helm  is  the  Master  of 
every  wind  that  shall  blow,  and  of  every  wave  that 
shall  break  its  force  upon  that  ship  ;  and  He  fore- 
sees as  well  the  events  that  shall  happen  at  the 
harbour  for  which  we  make  as  those  that  happen 
at  the  port  from  which  we  start.  How  safe  are 
we,  then,  when  emb;  rke<i  in  the  good  ship  of  Pro- 
vidence, with  such  a  Captain,  who  has  fore-arranged 
and  foreoidained  all  things  from  the  beginning 
even  unto  the  end.  And,  furthermore,  how  much 
it  becomes  us  to  put  implicit  confidence  in  His  guid- 
ance !  Hold  thy  peace,  man,  even  from  counsel  ; 
for  thy  thoughts  are  vain  where  thy  understanding 
io  baffled. 

'*  When  my  dim  reason  would  demand 
'\^  hy  that  or  this  Thou  dos*.  ordain, 


By  some  vast  deep  T  seem  to  stand. 
Whose  secrets  I  must  ask  in  vain. 

Be  this  my  joy  that  evermore 
Thou  lulest  all  things  at  Thy  will: 
Thy  sovereign  wisdom  I  adore, 
And  calmly,  sweetly,  trust  Thee  still." 

— Spitrgeon. 

(4.)  The  Lord  redeemeth  the  soul  of  His  ser- 
vants ;  and  none  of  them  that  trust  in  Him  shall  be 
desolate. 

(4057.)  Our  storekeeper,  an  Englishman,  earnest, 
hard-working,  patriotic,  and  a  Christian,  was  asked 
one  day,  when  our  supply  of  provisions  was  getting 
very  low,  to  cut  the  slices  of  bread  which  he  gave 
"the  boys"  a  little  thinner. 

"Oh  no  1"  said  he,  "I  can't;  the  poor  fellows 
are  so  hungry." 

"  But  our  bread  will  soon  be  gone." 

"Well,  I  have  faith  that  the  Lord  will  send  us 
more  before  we  are  quite  out." 

He  was  allowed  to  take  his  own  course,  though 
advised  to  be  as  sparing  as  possible.  The  day 
wore  away,  and  still  the  hungry  crowd  of  soldiers 
pressed  around  our  doors.  The  last  loaf  was 
taken  from  the  shelf.  A  hundred  delegates  were 
yet  to  have  their  supper.  But  there  were  no  bis- 
cuits, no  meat,  no  bread  for  them,  or  for  the  still 
unfed  soldiers  who,  weary  with  wounds  and  a  long, 
limping  march  from  the  field-hospital,  lingered  at 
our  rooms  for  a  morsel  of  food,  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
a  word  of  direction  about  the  trains  for  Baltimore 
and  Philadelphia. 

Just  at  the  last  moment,  when  our  faith  was 
almost  exhausted,  an  immense  load  of  provisions 
stopped  before  our  quarters,  and  the  drivers  asked 
for  the  agents  of  the  Commission.  "  We  have 
brouj^ht  bread,  lint,  bandages,  jellies,  and  wines  ; 
we  don't  know  just  who  are  most  needy,  but  we 
have  confidence  in  you.  Will  you  distribute  these 
things  for  us?"  The  stores  had  come  a  hundred 
and  three  miles. 

Never  again  did  we  chide  the  storekeeper's  faith, 
nor  did  our  stock  of  provisions  ever  again  give  oui 
while  we  remained  at  Gettysburg. 

— Story  0/  the  Christian  Commission. 

(4058.)  David  F is  a  very  aged  citizen  of 

Western  North  C.irolina.  He  connected  himself 
with  the  Church  when  very  young,  and  has  always 
been  noted  among  his  neighbours  for  his  honesty, 
charity,  piety,  and  faith  in  the  power  and  uiliing- 
ness  of  God  to  protect  those  who  do  His  will.  It 
was  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago  that  he  determined  to 
travel  through  the  trackless  wilds  of  the  great  and 
sparsely-inhabited  West.  His  route  lay  along  the 
borders  of  the  Missouri  and  Nevada,  infested  at  that 
time  with  more  numerous  clans  of  highway  robbers 
than  at  present.  He  knew  all  this  very  well,  and 
although  urged  by  his  neighbours  to  procure  a 
couple  of  revolvers  to  defend  himself,  he  took  only 
his  pocket  Bible,  and  armed  thus,  set  out  on  th« 
perilous  journey.  He  had  passed  some  of  the 
clans  on  the  northern  border  of  the  Missouri,  and 
was  nearing  the  resort  of  one  of  the  most  formid- 
able ones,  lieaded  by  a  notorious  desperado,  Jim 
Stevens,  when  he  met  a  gentleman  who  by  some 
cotip  d'etat  had  escaped  the  vigilant  eye  of  the 
robber  captain.  The  first  question  that  he  pro* 
pounded  to  old  David  was, 

"  Are  you  armed  ? " 


PRO\  IDEACE. 


(    683     ) 


PROVIDENCE. 


"Yes,"  was  the  aged  Cliristian's  reply,  as  he 
produced  his  pocket  Bible. 

The  gentleman,  who  was  almost  weighed  down 
with  bowie-knives  and  pistols,  laughed  outright  at 
what  he  considered  the  old  man's  folly,  and  with 
con>iiieral)le  ridicule  i«  his  tone  remarked — 

*'  If  that  is  all  the  weapon  you  have,  you  had 
better  be  saying  your  prayers.  The  den  of  Jim 
Jjtevens  is  about  ten  miles  farther  on,  just  where 
you  will  get  by  night,  and  he  cares  as  little  for 
Bibles  as  a  rattlesnake." 

They  exchanged  names,  and  each  went  his  own 
way  ;  the  one  surprised  at  the  other's  apparent 
folly  and  recklessness  ;  the  other  undismayed,  and 
his  faith  in  the  protecting  power  of  his  Bible  un- 
diminished. 

Night  had  thrown  her  dark  mantle  around  the 
earth,  and  the  chilling  blasts  had  begun  to  pierce 
the  somewhat  feeble  frame  of  old  David,  when  he 
descried  a  light  far  down  in  a  glen  a  short  distance 
from  the  road.  He  was  sure  that  it  proceeded 
from  a  robber's  den,  but  he  must  have  shelter,  and 
impelled  by  almost  boundless  faith,  he  directed  his 
course  thither.  He  halted  when  within  a  few 
paces  of  the  door,  and  being  coarsely  greeted  by 
some  uncouth,  mean-looking  men,  was  invited  to 
alight.  When  he  entered  the  humble  habitation 
he  saw  significant  looks  pass  between  the  inmates, 
and  each  chuckle  to  himself,  and  he  knew  that  he 
was  at  the  headquarters  of^  a  "road  committee," 
among  a  desperate,  relentless,  and  murderous  clan 
of  banditti.  Nothing  daunted,  he  occupied  the 
proffered  seat.  Having  partaken  of  a  rough  meal, 
with  which  they  furnished  him  at  his  request, 
he  began  conversation,  which  was  continued  till 
far  in  the  night,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  the 
return  of  the  captain,  Jim  Stevens,  and  a  couple 
of  his  confreres  in  crime  from  a  plundering  raid. 
Stevens,  advancing  within  a  few  feet  of  him,  asked 
jeeringly, 

"Old  man,  aren't  you  afraid  to  travel  in  this 
section,  among  the  robbers,  alone  and  unarmed?" 

"No,"  was  old  David's  bold  and  fearless  reply, 
as  he  produced  his  Bible,  continuing,  "  This  is 
my  weapon  of  defence.  I  always  read  a  chapter, 
and  pray,  too,  before  I  retire.  I  know  you  are 
robbers,  but  I  shall  read  and  pray  here  to-night, 
and  you  must  join  with  me." 

Tlie  roof  of  the  shabby  hut  shook  with  loud 
taunting  peals  of  laughter  at  this  expression  of  the 
old  man ;  but  nothing  dismayed  he  began  to 
read.  Gradually  all  became  silent,  and  when  he 
knelt  to  pray,  every  knee  was  bowed.  That  was  a 
strange  affecting  sight — murderers  and  plunderers 
of  their  fellow-men  kneeling  and  attentively  listen- 
ing 10  a  prayer  1  Long  and  fervently  the  humble 
servant  ol  God  prayed  :  nor  did  their  interest  in 
the  solemn  scene  and  supplications  abate.  When 
he  had  linished  he  was  conducted  to  a  hard  pallet, 
where  he  slept  the  livelong  might  undisturbed,  and 
even  free  fiom  haunting  tears. 

He  arose  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  read  and 
prayed  before  breakfast.  They  relused  to  receive 
aui;lit  for  his  entertainment  during  the  night,  and, 
instead,  cordially  thanked  him  for  the  interest 
which  he  had  manifested  in  their  behalf.  Asking 
for  them  the  light  of  Divine  grace  and  the  purifica- 
tion of  their  hearts,  he  bade  them  adieu  and  de- 
parted. He  pressed  onward,  strengthened  in  faith 
in  the  goodness  ol  Goil. 

At  the  next  settlement  he  learn&d  of  the  death  of 


the  gentleman  he  had  met  on  the  road,  who  had 
ridiculed  the  Bible.  This  incident  confirmed  him 
in  his  belief  of  the  superiority  of  the  Bible  as  ■ 
weapon  of  defence. 

He  prosecuted  his  journey  successfully,  and  soon 
returned  safely  to  his  home,  family,  and  friends. 
Often  now  he  gatheis  around  him  his  gramichiltlren 
and  the  juveniles  of  the  neighbourhotxl,  and  relates 
to  them  his  adventures  among  the  robbers.  With 
his  face  animated,  and  his  eyes  giowing  wit'n 
superhuman  light,  he  dwells  upon  the  prayer-seen, 
in  the  banditti's  hut,  ecstatically  exclaiming,  "  My 
Bible  palsied  their  arms,  unnerved  tlieir  hearts, 
and  bowed  their  knees."  He  always  concludes 
his  relation  of  the  adventure  with  the  solemnly- 
spoken  exhortation,  "Children,  you  need  not  fear 
the  most  perilous  dangers  of  life,  provided  you  are 
armed  \\  ith  the  Bible,  and  have  an  abidinp  faith  in 
the  protecting  power  of  God." 

3.  Is  not  to  be  allowed  to  degenerate : 
(l.)  Either  into  an  indolent  fatalisri. 
(4059.)  As  the  mariner,  when  he  perceiveth  a 
tempest  to  be  near,  first  calleth  upon  God  by 
earnest  prayer  that  he  may  safely  attain  to  the 
wished-for  haven,  and  then  striketh  his  sails,  and 
useth  all  good  means  which  he  supposeth  needful 
for  the  same  :  even  so  we  must  so  trust  to  the  pro- 
vidence of  God,  that  we  also  use  our  own  industry 
in  all  good  means  convenient.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(4060.)  An  imagined  absurdity  may  sometimes 
best  illustrate  a  real  wrongness  We  will  sup- 
pose the  improbable,  to  show  the  folly  and  sm  of 
what  is  quite  real  and  quite  frequent  in  actual  life. 
It  is  a  winter  day,  and  a  father  stands  at  his  parlour 
window  with  his  infant  on  his  arm.  Snow  is  on 
the  ground.  Near  the  window  is  a  thorn  tree,  with 
its  ripe  red  berries.  Birds  alight  on  the  tree, 
scatter  the  snow,  and  eat  the  berries.  It  was  in 
part  for  the  birds  that  the  berries  have  ripened. 

The  father  looks  up,  and  says — "How  kind  is 
God  !  This  is  His  providence  ;  He  feeds  the  birds." 
And  he  speaks  wiseiy  and  piously.  But  now,  ring- 
ing the  bell — "Nurse,"  he  says,  "see  how  God  is 
feeding  the  birds  !  take  our  baby,  and  set  him  in  the 
snow  ;  God  wdl  care  for  him."  So  baby  is  set  in  the 
snow  ;  and  the  rough  wind  soon  extinguishes  the 
tender  flame  of  his  life.  Then  the  father  cries — 
"What  a  dark  providence!  how  inscrutable  are 
the  ways  of  God  !  "  Are  there  not  many  like  this 
supposed  strange  father?  who  talk  of  providence 
but  as  an  excuse  for  their  leaving  those,  whom  they 
were  expressly  appointed  to  cherish  and  help,  to 
stumble  on  unwatched,  and  front,  as  tliey  may — 
with  souls,  and  perhaps  Vioilie--,  unclad  and  un- 
housed— the  "  bitter  blast  "  ol  time.  There  are  not 
wanting,  too,  men  who,  opening  the  window  of 
their  comfortable  room,  call  out  to  the  miserable 
to  trust  in  God  ;  and  then,  exhausted  by  the  effort 
and  chilled  with  the  entering  wind,  turn  round  to 
the  fire,  and  refresh  themselves  with  wine,  cake, 
and  essays  on  philanthropy. 

—Lynch,  1818-1871. 

(2.)  Or  into  a  rash  presumption. 

(4061.)  Let  not  fortune,  which  hath  no  name  in 
Scripture,  have  any  in  thy  divinity.  Let  Provi- 
dence, not  chance,  have  the  honour  of  thy  acknow- 
ledgments, and  be  thy  Oidipus  in  contingencies. 
Alaik  well  the  paths  and  winding  ways  thereof; 


REGEAERA  TION. 


K    684     ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


but  be  not  too  wise  in  the  construction,  or  sudden 
in  the  application.  The  hand  of  Providence  writes 
often  by  abbreviatures,  hieroglyphics,  or  short  char- 
acters, which,  like  the  laconism  on  the  wall,  are 
not  to  be  made  out  but  by  a  hint  or  key  from  that 
Spirit  which  indited  them. 

—Sir  T.  Browne,  1605- 1682. 

(4062.)  God  never  promises  anywhere  that  those 
who  love  and  fear  Him  shall  be  always  saved  from 
the  consequences  of  their  mistakes.  He  never  says 
that  He  will  so  interfere  in  their  case,  that  their 
acts  shall  not  produce  their  natural  and  necessary 
results.  He  does  indeed  sometimes  do  so,  but  He 
never  undertakes  to  do  it.  Josiah  was  mistaken 
in  going  out  against  Pharaoh-Nechoh.  He  was  not 
bound  to  do  it.  He  was  going  out  of  his  way  to 
encounter  a  danger  that  did  not  lie  in  his  way.  It 
was,  in  a  measure,  presuming  that  God  would  keep 
him  from  an  evil  which  he  himself  had  sought.  It 
was,  in  a  manner,  "  entering  into  temptation. "  Even 
the  heathen  Pharaoh  could  see  this.  He  had  no 
personal  hostility  towards  Josiah.  He  had  no 
quarrel  with  him  or  his  kingdom.  And  he  sent 
to  tell  him  so,  and  to  urge  him  not  to  assail  him 
as  an  enemy,  when  he  was  not  at  enmity  with  him. 
And  this  warning  of  the  Egyptian  king,  though 
he  did  not  know  it,  was  really  a  warning  from 
God  ;  and  is  therefore  called  "  the  words  of  Necho 
from  the  mouth  of  God."  Josiah  did  not  regard 
this  warning,  and  God  allowed  the  natural  con'-e- 
quences  of  his  own  act  to  take  their  course.  The 
arrow  did  not  turn  aside  because  Josiah  was  a  ser- 
vant of  Jehovah,  but  did  its  deadly  work. 

What  God  did  then.  He  does  now.  A  man  is 
going  a  voyage.  He  receives  information,  on 
which  he  can  rely,  that  the  ship  in  which  he 
means  to  sail  is  not  well  commanded,  or  scarcely 
seaworthy.  He  might  not  have  heard  this  ;  but 
having  heard  it,  it  is  a  kind  of  warning  to  him  not 
to  sail  by  that  ship.  He  does,  however,  and  it  is 
lost.  When  that  ship,  heavily  encumbered  where 
it  ought  to  be  kept  free,  strained  by  the  weight  that 
is  badly  placed  and  carelessly  left,  gets  into  the 
storm,  and  instead  of  rising  well  over  the  vast 
mountainous  waves,  is  swept  by  one,  half  filled 
by  another,  put  out  of  all  power  to  make  way  by 
another,  and  at  last  lies  upon  the  sea  a  heaving, 
helpless  barque,  slowly  but  surely  foundering, — all 
this  is  only  the  opening  out  into  particulars  of  what 
was  wrapt  up  in  the  warning,  which  in  God's 
providence  was  given  to  that  man.  And  that  ship, 
fast  settling  down,  will  not  stop,  because  that  man 
is  a  true  servant  of  God.  "  One  event  hapi*ens  to 
them  all."  — Chavi^neys. 


REGENERATION. 

/.    IN  WHA  T  IT  CONSISTS. 

1.  The  difflctUty  of  defining  It 

(4063.)  It  is  difficult  to  describe  exactly  the  nature 
of  regeneration  because  it  is  visible,  not  in  itself, 
but  in  its  effects.  We  know  seed  propagates 
itself,  and  produces  its  like,  but  the  generative  part 
in  the  seed  lies  covered  with  husks  and  skin,  so 
that  it  is  hard  to  tell  in  what  atom  or  ]ioint  the 
generative  particle  lies.  We  know  we  have  a  soul, 
yet  it  is  hard  to  tell  what  the  soul  is,  and  in  what 
part   it    principally  resides.     We  know   there  aie 


angels,  yet  what  mortal  can  give  a  description  of 
that  glorious  nature? 

It  is  certainly  true,  that  as  a  painter  can  bettei 
decipher  a  cloudy  and  stormy  air  than  the  serenity 
of  a  clear  day,  and  the  spectatoi  conceive  it  with 
more  pleasure  ;  so  it  is  more  easy  to  represent  the 
agitations  and  affections  of  natural  corruption,  than 
the  inward  frame  of  a  soul  wrought  by  the  Spirit  of 
God.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

2.  Not  In  the  destruction  or  removal  of  any  of 
our  natural  qiialities  or  characteristics. 

(4064.)  Rei^eneration  is  not  a  removal  of  the  old 
substance  or  faculties  of  the  soul.  Some  thought 
that  the  substance  of  Adam's  soul  was  corrupted 
when  he  sinned,  therefore  suppose  the  substance  of 
his  soul  to  be  altered  when  he  is  renewed.  Sin 
took  not  away  the  substance,  but  the  rectitude  ;  the 
new  creation  therefore  gives  not  a  new  faculty,  but 
a  new  quality.  The  cure  of  the  leprosy  is  not  a 
destroying  of  the  fabric  of  the  body,  but  the  disease  ; 
yet  in  regard  of  the  greatness  of  man's  corruption, 
the  soul  is  so  much  changed  by  these  new  habits, 
that  it  is  as  it  were  a  new  soul,  a  new  understand- 
ing, a  new  will. 

It  is  not  the  destroying  the  metal,  but  the  old 
stamp  upon  it  to  imprint  a  new.  Human  naiure  is 
preserved,  but  the  corruption  in  it  expelled.  The 
substance  of  gold  is  not  destroyed  in  the  fire,  though 
the  metal  and  the  flame  mix  together,  and  fire  seems 
to  be  incorporated  with  every  part  of  it ;  but  it  is 
made  more  pliable  to  what  shape  the  artist  will  cast 
it  into,  but  remains  gold  still.  It  is  not  the  break« 
ing  the  candlestick,  but  setting  up  a  new  light  in  it  ; 
not  a  destroying  the  will,  but  putting  a  new  bias 
into  it.  It  is  a  new  stringing  the  instrument  to 
make  a  new  harmony.  It  is  a  humbling  the  lofti- 
ness, and  bowing  down  the  haughtiness  of  tlie  spirit 
to  exalt  the  Lord  alone  in  the  soul  (Isaiah  ii.  11), 
speaking  of  the  times  of  the  Gospel. 

'1  he  essential  nature  of  man,  his  reason  and 
understanding,  are  not  taken  away,  but  rectified. 
As  a  carver  takes  not  away  the  knobs  and  grain  in 
the  wood,  but  planes  and  smoothes  it,  ana  carves 
the  image  of  a  man  upon  it ;  the  substance  of  the 
wood  remains  still ;  so  God  pares  away  the  ruyged 
pieces  in  a  man's  understanding  and  will,  and 
engraves  His  own  image  upon  it  ;  but  the  change 
is  so  great  that  the  soul  seems  to  be  of  another 
species  and  kind,  because  it  is  acted  by  that  grace, 
which  is  another  species  from  that  principle  which 
acted  it  before. 

New  creation  is  called  a  resurrection.  Our 
Saviour  in  His  resurrection  had  the  same  body, 
but  endued  with  a  new  quality.  As  in  Christ's 
transfiguration  (Matt.  xvii.  2),  neither  His  Deity  nor 
humanity  were  altered,  both  natures  remained  the 
same.  But  there  was  a  metamorphosis  and  a 
glorious  brightness  conferred  by  the  Deity  upon  the 
humanity  which  it  did  not  partake  of  before.  So 
though  the  essence  of  the  soul  and  faculties  remain 
the  same,  yet  another  kind  of  light  is  darted  in, 
and  other  qualities  implanted.  It  was  the  sam* 
Paul  when  he  complied  with  the  body  of  death, 
and  when  he  complained  of  it,  but  he  had  not  the 
same  disposition.  As  Adam  in  the  state  of  corrup- 
tion had  the  same  faculties  for  substance  which  he 
had  in  the  stale  ol  innocency ;  but  the  power, 
virtue,  and  form  in  those  faculties,  wiiereliy  he 
was  acceptable  to  God,  and  in  a  capacity  to  please 
Him,   was  wholly  abolished.       We  lose   not   our 


REGENERA  TION. 


(    685     ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


substantial  form,  as  Moses'  rod  did,  when  it  was 
turned  into  a  serpent  ;  or  the  water  at  Cana  when 
turned  into  uine.  Our  nature  is  ennoliled,  not 
destroyed  ;  enriched,  not  ruined  ;  reformed,  not 
annihilated.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(4065.)   Regeneration   is   not   a   change    of    the 
essentia!  acts  of    tlie  soul,  as  acts.     The    passions 
and  affections  are  the  same  as  to  the  substance  and 
nature  of   the  iicts,   but   tlie   difference  lies   in   the 
object.      And  acts,  though  fur  substance  the  same, 
yet  are  specifically  distinguished  by  the  diversity  of 
objects  about  which  ihey  are  conversnnt.      Whatso- 
ever is  a  commendable  quality  in  nature,  and  left 
in  man  by  the  interposition  of  the  Mediator,  is  not 
taken  away  ;  but  the  principle,  end,  and  objects  of 
those  .Tcts,  arising  from  tliose  restored  qualities,  are 
altered.     The  acts  of  a  renewed  man  antl  the  acts 
of  a  natural  man  are  the   same   in   the   nature    of 
acts,   as  when  a  man  loves  God  or  fears  God,  or 
loves  man  or  fears  man  ;  it  is  the  same  act  of  love 
and    the    same    act    of  fear ;    there    are    the    same 
motions  of  the  soul,  the  same  substantial  acts  simply 
considered  ;  the  soul  stands  in  the  same  posture  in 
the  one  as  in  the  other,  but  the  difference   lies  in 
the  objects  ;  the  object  of  the  one  is  supernatural, 
the  object  of  the  other  natural.     As  wiien  a  man 
walks  to  the  east  or  west,  it  is  the  same  motion  in 
body  and  points,   the  same  manner  of  ^joing  ;  yet 
they  are  contrary  motions,  because   the    terms    to 
which  they  tend  are   contrary  one    to    the    other ; 
or,   as  when   we    bless  God  and    bless    man,  it    is 
with   one   and  the  same  tongue  that  we  do  both, 
yet  these  are  acts  specitically  different,  in  regard  of 
the  difference  of  tiieir  objects.     The  nature  of  the 
affections  still  remain,  thouL;h  not  the  corruption  of 
them,   and   the  objects  to  which  they  are  directed 
are  different.     If  a  man  be  given  to  ilioughtfulness, 
grace    removes    not    this,  temper,    but    turns    his 
meditations  to  God.     The  solitariness  of  his  temper 
is  not  altered,   but  something  new  offered  him  as 
the  object  of  his  meuitaiion.     If  a  man  be  hot  and 
earnest   in    his  temper,   grace   takes    not   away  his 
heat,  but  turns  it  into  zeal  to  serve  the  interest  of 
God.     Paul  was  a  man  of  active  disposition  ;  this 
natural  activity  of  his  disposition  and   temper  was 
not  dammed  up  by  grace,   but  reduced  to  a  right 
channel,   and  pitched  upon  a  right  object  ;  as  he 
laboured  more  than  any  in    persecution,  so    after- 
wards   he    laboured    more    than    any    in    edifying 
(l   Cor.   XV.  9,    10).       His    labour    was    the    same, 
and  proceeded  from  the  same  temper,  but  another 
principle  in  that  temper,  and  directed  to  another 
term.      As    it    is   the    same    horse,  and    the   same 
mettle  in  the  beast,   which   carries   a    man   to    his 
pioper  stage  that  carrietl    him   before   in  a  wrong 
way,  but  it  is  turned  in  respect  of  the  term.     David's 
poetical  fancy  is  not  abolished  by  this   new  piin- 
ciple  in  him,  but  employed  in  descanting  upon  the 
praises  of  God,  which  otherwise  might  have  been 
lavished  out  in  vanity,  and  foolish  love-songs,  and 
descriptions  of  new  mistresses.      So  that  the  sub- 
stance and  nature  of  the  affections   anti   acts  of  a 
man    remain;    but    anger    is   turned   into    zeal     by 
virtue  of  a   new   principle  ;  grief  into   repentance, 
fear  into  the  fear  of  God,  carnal  love  into  the  love 
of  the   Creator,  by   another  principle  which  doth 
bias  those  acts.  — Chariiock,  1628-1680. 

3.  Not  In  the  Impartation  of  any  new  faculties. 
(4C66.)  Id  regeneration  nature  is  not  ruined,  but 


rectified.  The  convert  is  the  same  man,  but  new 
made.  The  faculties  of  his  soul  are  not  destroyed, 
but  they  are  refined  ;  the  same  viol,  but  new  tuned. 
Christ  gave  not  the  blind  man  new  eyes,  but  a  new 
sight  to  the  old  ones.  Christ  did  not  give  Lazarus 
a  new  body,  but  enlivened  his  old  body.  So  God 
in  conversion  doth  not  bestow  a  new  understantiing, 
but  a  new  light  to  the  old  ;  not  a  new  soul,  but  a 
new  life  to  the  old  one.  The  powers  of  the  man 
are  like  streams,  not  dried  up,  but  turned  into 
another  channel.  The  truth  is,  that  man  by  his 
fall  from  God  is  so  exceedingly  degenerated  and 
polluted,  that  repairing  and  meniiing  viill  not 
serve,  he  must  be  wholly  and  thoroughly  new 
made  ;  as  the  hnuse  infected  with  ti  e  leprosy, 
sciaping  would  not  do,  it  must  be  pulKd  ilown, 
and  new  set  up  ;  but  as  when  a  house  pulled  down 
is  new  set  up,  we  use  possibly  the  same  timber  and 
stones,  and  materials,  which  were  in  it  before,  only 
they  are  new  squared  and  polished  ;  what  is  rotten 
or  amiss  in  them  is  pared  off,  and  what  is  wanting, 
as  several  things  will  be,  are  added  ;  so  when  this 
new  building  of  regeneration  is  erected,  the  Spirit 
of  God  makes  use  of  the  old  substantial  materials 
— the  soul  and  its  faculties,  the  body  and  its  members 
which  were  in  man  before,  only  polisheth  and 
purifieth  them,  and  square'.h  them  according  to 
the  rule  of  God's  Word  ;  't  hews  off  wdiat  is 
unsound  and  sinful,  and  bestoweth  that  giace  and 
holiness  which  is  needful.  He  taketh  not  away 
our  beings,  but  the  wickedness  and  crookedness 
of  our  beings,  and  addeth  a  new  gracious  beauty 
which  we  had  not  before.  We  put  off  the  rags  of 
the  old  man,  and  put  on  the  robes  of  the  new  man, 
and  continue  in  regard  of  substance  the  same  men. 
— Sivinnock,  1673. 

4.  Not  In  the  addition  of  anything  to  what  we 
already  possess. 

(4067.)  Nor  is  regeneration  an  addition  to  nature. 
Christ  was  not  an  addition  to  Adam,  but  a  new 
Head  by  Himself  called  Adam  in  regard  of  the 
agreement  vsith  him  in  the  notion  of  a  head  and 
common  person,  so  neither  is  the  new  creature, 
or  Christ  formed  in  the  soul,  an  adtlilion  to  nature. 
Grace  grows  not  upon  the  old  slock.  It  is  not  a 
piece  ol  cloth  sewn  to  an  old  garment,  but  the  one 
is  cast  aside,  the  other  wholly  taken  on  ;  not  one 
garment  put  upon  another  ;  but  a  taking  off  one 
and  a  putting  on  another;  "putting  off  the  old 
man,  putting  on  the  new  man  "  (Col.  iii.  9.  10). 
It  IS  a  taking  away  what  was  before,  "  old  things 
are  passed  away,"  and  bestowing  some  thing  that  had 
no  footing  before.  It  is  not  a  new  varnish,  nor  do 
old  things  remain  under  a  new  paint,  nor  new 
plaster  laid  upon  old  ;  a  new  creature,  not  a 
mended  creature.  It  is  called  light,  which  is  not 
a  quality  added  to  darkness,  but  a  quality  that 
expels  it  ;  it  is  a  taking  away  the  stony  heart  and 
putting  a  heart  of  iiesh  in  the  room  (Ezek.  xxxvL. 
26).  The  old  nature  remains,  not  in  its  strength 
with  this  addition,  but  is  crucified,  and  taken  away 
in  part  with  its  attendants — " 'I'hey  that  are  Chri-st'i 
have  crucihed  the  flesh,  with  the  affections  and 
lusts."  As  in  the  cure  of  a  man,  health  is  nol 
added  to  the  disease;  or  in  resurrection,  life  addetl 
to  death,  but  the  disease  is  expelled,  death  removed, 
and  another  form  and  habit  set  in  the  place.  Add 
what  you  will  without  introducing  another  form, 
it  will  be  of  no  more  efficacy  than  flowers  and 
perfumes  strewed  upon  a  dead  carcase  can  festoro 


RE  GENERA  TION. 


(    686    ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


It  to  life  and  remove  the  rottenness.  Nothing  is 
thr  teiminus  a  qtio  in  creation  ;  it  supposes  nothing 
before  as  a  new  subjeci  capable ;  notliing  in  a 
natural  is  a  subject  morally  capable  to  have  grace, 
without  tlie  expulsion  of  the  old  corrupt  nature. 
It  is  called  a  new  creature,  a  new  man  ;  not  an 
improved  creature,  oi  a  new-dressed  man. 

—  Charnock,  1 628- 1 680. 

8.  Not  In  the  calling  forth  of  good  latent  with- 
in us. 

(4068.)  Regeneration  is  not  an  excitation  or 
awakening  of  some  gracious  princijile  which  lay  hid 
before  in  nature,  under  the  oppression  of  ill  habits,  as 
corn  lay  hid  under  the  chafl,  but  was  corn  still.  Not 
a  beating  up  something  that  lay  skulking  in  nature, 
not  an  awakening  as  of  a  man  from  sleep,  but  a  re- 
surrection as  a  man  from  death — a  new  creation,  as 
of  a  man  from  nothing.  It  is  not  a  stirring  up  old 
principles  and  new  kmdling  of  them;  as  a  candle 
])ut  out  lately  may  be  blown  in  again  by  the  fire  re- 
maining in  the  snulf,  and  burn  upon  the  old  stock  — 
or  as  the  life  which  retired  into  the  more  secret 
parts  of  the  body  in  those  creatures  that  seem  dead 
in  winter,  which  is  excited  and  called  out  to  the  ex- 
treme parts  by  the  spring  sun.  Indeed,  there  are 
some  sparks  of  moral  virtues  in  nature  which  want 
blowing  up  by  a  good  education  ;  the  foundation  of 
these  is  in  nature,  the  exciting  of  them  from  instruc- 
tion, the  perfection  of  them  from  use  and  exercise. 
But  there  is  not  in  man  the  seed  of  one  grace,  but 
the  seeds  of  all  sin.  "  1  know  that  in  me  (that  is,  in 
my  flesh)  dwells  no  good  thing."  Some  good  thing 
may  be  in  me,  but  it  ariseth  not  from  my  Besh  ;  it 
is  not  from  any  seed  sown  by  nature,  but  it  is  an- 
other principle  put  in  me,  which  seminally  contains 
in  it  all  grace  :  it  is  a  putting  a  new  seed  into  the 
soil,  and  exciting  it  to  giovv,  "  an  incorruptible  seed  " 
(l  Peter  i.  23).  Therefore  the  Scripture  does  not 
represent  men  in  a  trance,  or  sleep,  but  dead  ;  and 
so  it  is  not  only  an  awakening,  but  a  quickening,  a 
resurrection  (Eph.  ii.  5,  &c.).  We  are  just  in  liiis 
work  as  our  Saviour  was  when  the  devil  came 
against  Him.  "  The  prince  o(  this  world  cometh, 
and  hath  nothing  in  Me."  He  had  nothing  to  work 
upon  in  Christ,  but  he  rakes  in  the  ashes  o(  our 
nature  and  finds  sparks  enough  to  blow  upon  ;  but 
the  Spirit  finds  nothing  in  us  but  a  stump,  some 
confused  desires  for  happiness  ;  He  brings  all  the 
fire  Irom  heaven,  wherewith  our  hearts  are  kindled. 
This  work,  therefore,  is  not  an  awakening  of  good 
habits  which  lay  before  oppressed,  but  a  taking  off 
those  ill  habits  which  were  so  lar  Irom  oppressing 
nature  that  they  were  connatural  to  it,  and  by  m- 
corporation  wi-ih  it  quite  altered  it  from  that  ori- 
ginal rectitude  and  simplicity  wherein  God  at 
first  created  ii.  — Charnock,  1628- 16S0. 

6.  Not  in  any  merely  outward  reformation  of 
character  or  conduct, 

(4069.)  Reformation  may  proceed  either — (i) — 
from  force  and  fear.  Such  a  relormation  is  from 
impediments,  not  from  inclination.  The  cutting  a 
bird's  wings  takes  not  away  its  propensity  to  fly, 
but  its  ability  ;  the  cutting  the  claws  of  a  lion  or 
]iulling  out  his  teeth  changes  no',  his  lionisli  nature. 
Fear  restrained  Herod  fmni  putting  John  to  dealii 
when  liis  will  was  inclined  to  the  act.  Fear  may 
pare  the  nails  of  sin,  grace  only  can  hinder  the 
growth  and  take  away  its  liie.  I  his  doth  but  only 
•top  the  streams,  not  choke  tlie  fountain. 


Or— (2) — from  sense  of  outward  interest.  It  may 
be  a  rational  abstinence  from  those  sordid  pleasures 
which  debar.e  a  man's  esteem  and  prey  upon  his  re- 
putation, and  in  the  meantime  his  inward  lusts  may 
triumph,  while  outward  appearances  are  stopped. 
Such  a  splendid  life  may  consist  with  those  inward 
vermin,  more  contrary  to  the  pure  nature  of  God, 
and  as  inconsistent  with  a  man's  happiness.  The 
river  which  ran  in  open  view  may  sink  and  run  as 
fiercely  through  subterraneous  caverns.  Men  may 
cast  out  one  gross  devil  to  make  way  for  seven  more 
spiritual  ones.  The  interest  which  restrains  outward 
acts  will  not  restrain  inward  lusts. 

Well  then,  an  outward  reformation  without  an 
inward  grace  can  no  more  rectify  nature  than  an 
abstinence  from  luxury  can  cure  a  disease  a  man  has 
conti  acted  through  intemperance,  without  some 
other  physic  to  pluck  up  the  root  of  the  distemper. 
Outward  applications  of  salves  and  ointments  will 
do  little  good  in  a  fever,  unless  the  spring  of  the 
disease  be  altered,  and  a  new  crasis  wrought  in  the 
blood. 

— Charnock,  162S-16S0. 

(4070.)  A  man  may  reform,  wi'hout  true  repen- 
tance, though  no  man  can  truly  repent  without 
moral  reformation.  Reformation  whitewashes  the 
house  :  regeneration  takes  the  house  to  pieces,  and 
rebuilds  it  Irom  the  ground.  Reformation  vainishes 
the  outside  of  the  vessel  ;  regeneration  melts  the 
vessel  down,  and  casts  it  into  a  new  mould. 

—  Toplady,  1740-1778. 

(4071.)  It  often  happens  that  men  deceive  them- 
selves on  this  important  subject,  and  rest  satisfied 
with  some  partial  change  which  does  not  more  truly 
constitute  the  new  birth,  than  the  shadow  identifies 
itself  with  the  substance.  Su]ipose  the  case  of  a 
man  who  has  diminished  his  fortune  and  shattered 
his  constitution  by  sensual  indulgences,  I  le  foresees 
that  his  last  shilling  will  soon  be  spent,  and  that  life 
will  be  very  sjieedily  extinguished  if  he  continue 
in  his  present  course.  He  is  wise  enough  to  listen 
to  the  Voice  of  reason  and  to  desist.  But  he  does 
not  cease  to  love  the  criminal  pleasures  in  which  he 
had  iniiulged.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  source  of 
perpetual  annoyance  and  mortilicalion  to  him,  that 
lie  cannot  give  the  reins  to  his  corrupt  propensities 
as  he  had  been  wont  to  do.  Are  we  to  consider 
such  a  man  a  new  creature?  Surely  not.  It  is  the 
mind  that  constitutes  the  man,  so  that,  while  the 
identity  of  the  mind  remains,  it  would  not  be  much 
more  absurd,  because  an  individual  had  altered  his 
dress,  to  call  him  a  new  creature,  than  so  to  desig- 
nate him,  because  he  had  made  clean  the  exterior 
of  his  character,  or  rather  its  dress,  while  the  interior 
remained  as  filthy  and  abominable  as  ever. 

— Payne. 
7.  But  In  the  impartation  of  new  life  to  the  soul, 

(4072.)  Regeneration  is  not  a  new  beginning  of 
a  man,  but  a  beginning  of  the  best  good  in  a  man. 
It  confers  no  Iresli  laculties  or  sensibilities,  but 
awakens,  restores,  and  controls  those  already  in  ex- 
istence. The  only  thing  bad  in  man  is  sin.  That 
is  the  root  of  all  other  evil — of  darkness,  weakness, 
and  corruption — and  the  grace  of  God  is  to  put  that 
away.  It  is  as  with  a  painting  covered  through 
long  years  with  dust  and  smoke,  looking  as  if  one 
dark  surface — the  divine  grace  cleanses  that  surface 
and  restores  the  poi trail,  not  by  making  tresh 
features,  but  bringing  out  the  old  ones.  It  is  as  with 
natural  life:  a  man  has  little  vital  power,  the  action 


REGENERA  TION. 


(     687     ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


of  the  heart  is  feeble  almost  to  death,  "nd  it  shows 

itself  in  different  effects,  according  t,.  the  several 
functions  of  the  body,  causing  torpor,  pain,  or  dis- 
figurement, as  the  case  may  be,  or  all  together;  and 
the  Divine  grace  quickens  new  life,  and  without 
adding  or  altering  organs,  secures  the  regular  and 
energetic  action  of  each.  — A.  J.  A  J  orris. 

8.  In  a  chang'e  of  heart. 

(4073.)  Regeneration  is  principally  an  inward 
change.  It  is  as  inward  as  the  soul  itself.  Not 
only  a  cleansing  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  platter, 
a  painting  over  the  sepulchre,  but  a  casting  out  the 
dead  bones  and  putritied  flesh;  of  a  nature  different 
from  a  Pharisaical  and  hypocritical  change.  It  is 
a  clean  heart  David  desires,  not  only  clean  hands. 
If  it  were  not  so,  there  could  be  no  outward  rectified 
change.  The  spring  and  wheels  of  the  clock  must 
be  mended  before  the  hands  of  the  dial  will  stand 
right.  It  may  stand  right  two  hours  in  the  day, 
when  the  time  of  the  day  comes  to  it,  but  not  Irom 
any  motion  or  rectitude  in  itself.  So  a  man  may 
seem  by  one  or  two  actions  to  be  a  changed  man, 
but  the  inward  spring  being  amiss,  it  is  but  a  deceit. 
Sometimes  there  may  be  a  change,  not  in  the  heart, 
but  in  things  which  the  heart  was  set  upon,  when 
they  were  not  what  they  were.  As  a  man  whose 
heart  was  set  upon  uncleanness,  change  of  beauty 
may  change  his  affection  ;  the  change  is  not  in  the 
man,  but  in  the  object.  But  this  change  I  speak 
of  is  a  change  in  the  mind,  when  there  is  none  in 
the  object  :  as  the  aflection  of  a  child  to  his  trifles 
thanges  with  the  growth  of  his  reason,  though  the 
things  his  heart  was  set  upon  remain  in  the  same 
condition  as  before.  — Charnock,  162S-1680. 

(4074.)  Regeneration  is  a  change  of  principle. 
The  principle  of  a  natural  man  in  his  religious  actions 
is  artificial  ;  he  is  wound  up  to  such  a  peg,  like  the 
spring  of  an  engine,  by  some  outward  respects  wliich 
please  him  ;  but  as  the  motion  of  an  engine  ceases, 
wlien  the  spring  is  down,  so  a  natural  man's  motion 
holds  no  longer  than  the  delight  those  motions  gave 
him,  which  fiist  engr.ged  him  in  it.  But  the  prin- 
ciple in  a  good  man  is  spirit,  an  eternal  principle, 
and  the  first  motion  of  this  principle  is  towards 
God,  to  act  from  God,  and  to  act  for  God. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(4075')  Tie  who  is  born  of  God  hath  a  new 
heart  :  new,  not  for  substance,  but  for  qualities. 
The  strings  of  a  viol  may  be  the  same,  but  the  tune 
is  altered.  — ll'atsoti,  1696. 

{4076.)  Observe  the  order  in  which  these  things 
are  arranged.  "  I  will  give  them  one  heart,  and  I 
will  put  a  new  spirit  within  them  ;  and  1  will  take 
the  stony  heart  out  of  their  flesh,  and  will  give 
them  an  heait  ol  flesh;  that  they  may  walk  in 
My  statutes,  and  keep  Mine  ordinances,  and  do 
them."  Thus  principle  precedes  practice,  and  pre- 
pares for  it.  And  here  we  admire  the  plan  of  the 
gospel.  To  make  the  fruit  good,  it  makes  the  tree 
also  :  to  cleanse  the  stream,  it  purifies  the  fountain. 
It  renews  the  nature,  and  the  lile  becomes  holy  of 
course.  —J'W^  '769-1S53. 

9.  In  the  Impartatlon  of  a  new  impulse  and 
direction  to  the  moral  nature. 

(4077.)  Reformation  does  but  turn  the  course  or 
Stream  of  men's  alfections,  it  does  not  cnange  the 
nature  of  them.     They  are  the  same  in  their  spring 


and  fountain  as  ever  they  were,  only  they  are  ha- 
bituated into  another  course  than  what  of  themselves 
they  are  inclined  to.  You  may  take  a  young  whelp 
of  the  most  fierce  and  savage  creature,  as  of  a  tiger, 
or  of  a  wolf,  and  by  custom  or  usage  make  it  tame 
and  harmless  as  any  domestic  creature, — or  dog,  or 
the  like:  but  although  it  may  be  turned  into  quite 
another  way  or  course  of  acting  than  what  it  was 
of  itself  unto,  yet  its  nature  is  not  changed  ;  and 
therefore  frequently,  on  occasion,  opportunity,  or 
provocation,  it  will  fall  into  its  own  savage  inclina- 
tion, and  having  tasted  of  the  blood  of  creatures,  it 
will  never  be  reclaimed.  So  it  is  with  the  depraved 
affections  of  men  with  respect  to  their  cliange  :  their 
streams  are  turned,  they  are  habituated  unto  a  new 
course,  but  their  nature  is  not  altered,  at  least  not 
from  rational  to  spiritual,  from  earthly  to  heavenly. 
— Owen,  16 1 6- 1 683. 

(4078.)  We  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  any  new 
faculties  of  mind  will  be  implanted,  but  that  there 
will  be  a  new  impulse  given  to  those  \\  hich  you  do 
possess — new  motives,  new  desires,  new  actions, 
new  conduct.  Nay,  all  obey  the  hand  of  another 
master,  and  are  under  the  directiim  of  a  new  in- 
fluence, like  a  harp  of  which  the  strings  remain  the 
same  ;  but  the  tones  and  music  are  various,  as  the 
hand  that  moves  them  varies.  With  one  it  may 
send  forth  harsh  and  discordant  sounds  ;  but,  played 
on  by  another,  the  same  chords  ravish  the  senses 
v\  ilh  their  rich  and  flowing  music.  — Sailer. 

10.  In  the  transformation  of  our  moral  likeness 
into  the  image  oi  God. 

(4079.)  It  is  the  whole  image  of  God  which  is 
drawn  in  the  new  creature.  It  is  "the  image  of 
God"  (Col.  iii.  lO. ),  not  a  part  :  a  foot  or  a  linger 
is  but  the  image  of  those  parts,  not  ol  a  man.  1  he 
members  in  a  child  answer  to  those  in  a  parent, 
though  not  in  so  great  a  proportion.  The  image  of 
a  man  has  not  only  the  face,  or  eyes,  but  the  other 
memliers.  Though  a  Christian  may  have  one  or 
two  parts  of  this  image  more  beautilul  than  the  rest, 
as  a  man  may  have  a  sparkling  eye  that  has  not  a 
proportionable  lip,  yet  he  has  all  the  members  ol  a 
man.  'i  he  painter's  skill  appears  in  some  linea- 
ments more  than  in  others.  So  tlie  Spirit's  wisdom 
appears  in  making  some  eminent  in  one  grace,  some 
in  another,  according  to  His  good  pleasure;  yet 
the  whole  image  of  God  is  imprinted  there  ;  it 
would  not  else  be  a  likeness,  but  a  monstrous  birth 
in  defect.  The  fruit  ol  the  Spirit  is  in  all  goodness, 
righteousness,  and  truth  (Eph.  v.  9.),  and  therefore 
the  immediate  effect  of  the  Spirit  in  the  soul  is  the 
engrafting  all  goodness,  righteousness,  and  truth  in 
the  essential  parts  of  it.  As  God's  nature  is  holy. 
His  perfections  holy.  His  actions  holy,  so  holiness 
beautifies  the  nature,  spirits  the  actions,  and  is  writ 
upon  all  the  endowments  of  a  reneu  ed  man.  There 
is  an  impression  of  the  wisdom  of  God  in  the  under- 
standing, and  of  the  holiness  of  Cod  in  the  will. 
— Charnock,  1628- 1 680. 

II.     WH  V  IT  IS  NEC  ESS  A  R  Y. 

1.  To  render  us  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God. 

(4080.)  There  may  be  several  things  which  may 
help  to  make  the  life  fair  in  the  eyes  of  men  ;  but 
nothing  will  make  it  amiable  in  the  eyes  of  God, 
unless  the  heart  be  changed  and  renewed.  All  the 
medicines  whicli  can  be  a|>plieii,  without  the  sancti- 
fying work  of  the  Spirit,  though  they  may  cover. 


REGENERA  TION. 


(    688     ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


they  can  never  cure  the  corruption  and  diseases  of 
the  soul.  The  best  man  williout  this  is  liice  a  ser- 
pent, painted,  as  it  were,  without,  but  poisonous 
within.  As  the  herb  biscoit,  he  may  have  smooth 
and  plain  leaves,  but  a  crooked  root ;  or  as  a  pill, 
be  gilded  on  the  outside,  when  the  whole  mass  and 
body  of  it  is  bitterness.  — Siuinitock,  1673. 

(4081.)  An  apple  may  look  very  fair  to  the  eye — 
quite  ripe  and  red  ;  and  yet  it  may  be  full  of  rotten- 
ness withm  ;  so,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fruit  may  be 
brown,  and  flecked  with  spots,  and  burrowed  into 
by  wasps  in  search  of  its  sweetness.  But  if  we  cut 
it  open,  and  find  it  sweet  in  its  substance  and  sound 
to  the  core,  we  say  that  it  is  good.  It  is  just  the 
same  with  man  in  his  relation  to  God.  He  may 
look  very  fair  on  the  outside,  he  may  be  respected 
and  honoured  by  his  fellow-men  ;  but  if  his  heart 
has  not  been  renewed  by  divine  giace,  there  is  no- 
thing but  rottenness  and  corruption  in  the  sight  of 
God.  Wlule,  in  contrast  with  this,  he  who  has 
come  to  his  Heavenly  Father  believing  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  repenting  of  his  dead  works  and  his 
idle  words,  cannot  but  be,  by  God's  grace,  sound 
and  pure,  however  humble  and  despised  he  may 
appear.  — Hooper. 

2.  Because  without  it  no  spiritual  blessing  can 
be  obtained. 

(4082.)  A  grave  and  wise  counsellor  of  France, 
being  desirous  in  his  old  age  to  retire  himself,  was 
entreated  by  the  king  to  writedown  some  directions, 
and  leave  with  him,  for  the  more  prosperous  govern- 
ment of  his  realm.  The  counsellor  took  some 
paper,  and  wrote  on  the  top,  moderation  ;  in  the 
middle,  moderation  ;  at  the  bottom,  moderation. 
Dem  isthenes  being  asked  what  was  the  chief 
thing  in  an  orator,  answered,  elocution  ;  and  being 
demanded  the  same  question  three  times,  what 
made  an  orator,  he  stdl  gave  the  same  answer. 
Augustine  being  demanded  what  was  the  greatest 
requisite  ol  a  Christian,  what  was  the  first,  second, 
and  thiid,  still  answered,  humility,  humility,  hundl- 
ity.  Truly  what  the  counsellor  said  of  modei  ation, 
the  Grecian  of  elocution,  and  the  Father  of  humility, 
I  shall  say  of  regeneration.  If  you  ask  me  what 
is  the  chiefest  thing  in  the  world  for  a  man  to  mind  ; 
what  is  that  which  is  worthy  of  all  his  time,  and 
strength,  and  thoughts,  and  words,  and  actions  ? 
I  answer,  regeneration.  If  you  demand  what  is 
that  which  is  of  tlie  greatest  necessity  and  excel- 
lency, that  bringeth  in  the  greatest  profit,  delight, 
and  happiness  ?  I  answer,  regeneration.  He  that 
hath  this,  hath  all  that  is  worth  having  ;  the  having 
of  this  is  heaven.  He  that  wantetli  this  hath  no- 
thing ;  the  whole  world  cannot  make  up  the  want  of 
this  ;  the  want  of  this  is  hell. 

— Swinnock,  1 673. 

(4083.)  "  Wash  me  throughly  from  mine  iniquity, 

»nd  cleanse  me  from  my  sin." — Mark  the  thorough- 
ness of  this  desire.  Not  only  must  sin  be  blotted 
out,  but  the  sinner  himself  must  be  washed  and 
cleansed.  There  must  not  be  merely  a  change  of 
state,  but  a  change  of  nature.  Not  only  must  the 
debt  be  forgiven,  but  all  disposition  to  contract 
further  debt  must  be  eradicated.  When  the 
criminal  has  completed  his  term  of  imprisonment, 
he  may  be  innocent  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  but 
aniess  that  criminal  has  repented  of  his  sin,  he  is  as 
nuch  guilty  as  on  the  day  in  which  he  first  bowed 


his  head  under  a  prison  door.      All  true  and  '^ttting 
change  must  be  made  in  the  nature. 

— Pafkcr. 
3.  To  heal  the  disease  of  sin, 

(4084.)  Shame  may  hide  sin,  but  it  will  not  heal 
it.  Coiruption  often  lies  secret  in  the  heait,  when 
shame  hinders  it  from  breaking  out  in  scabs  and 
blotches  in  tiie  life. 

Example,  custom,  and  education  may  also  hdlp 
a  man  to  make  "a  fair  show  in  the  flesh,"  but  not 
to  "walk  after  the  Spirit."  They  may  prune  and 
lop  sin,  but  never  stub  it  up  by  the  roots.  All  that 
these  can  do  is  to  make  a  man  like  a  grave,  green 
and  flourishing  on  the  surface  and  superficies,  when 
within  there  is  nothing  but  noisomeness  and  cor- 
ruption. It  has  often  appeared  that  those  means 
which  the  great  moralists  have  used  to  bridle  their 
lusts  and  passions  have  rather,  like  strong  scents  to 
epileptic  bodies,  raised  than  recovered  them. 
Indeed,  if  the  chief  fault  were  not  in  the  vital 
parts,  these  outward  applications  might  be  effectual ; 
but  when  the  heart,  and  lungs,  and  inwards  are  all 
corrupted,  plasters  applied  to  the  face,  or  hands,  or 
thighs,  or  sides  will  do  little  good.  When  the  fault 
is  in  the  foundation  of  a  house,  it  cannot  be  mended 
by  plastering  or  rough-cast.  A  leopard  may  be 
flayed,  but  he  is  spotted  still,  because  the  spots  are 
not  only  in  the  skin,  but  in  the  flesh,  and  bones, 
and  sinevi's,  and  most  inward  parts.  When  the  dis- 
ease is  accidental,  as  to  lose  the  sight  by  small-pox, 
or  the  like,  there  the  physic  of  morality  may  be  ad- 
vantageous ;  but  wheie  the  disease  is  natural,  as  in 
the  man  who  was  born  blinil,  there  physic  will  do 
no  good  ;  a  miracle  alone  must  restore  such  a  one 
to  his  sight.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4085.)  There  ire  different  ways  of  treating  dis- 
eases. A  man  has  a  bad  malady  upon  him,  and  it 
breaks  out  in  his  flesh.  He  goes  to  a  quack,  who 
gives  him  an  ointment,  which  he  applies  outwardly 
to  heal  the  sore  till  the  morbid  appeal ances  vanish, 
and  he  congratulates  himself  on  the  cure,  and  com- 
mends the  charlatan  for  his  skdl.  By  and  by  the 
man  is  lying  so  grievously  sick  and  ill  that  he  does 
not  know  what  to  do.  "Oh,"  thinks  he  to  himself, 
"have  I  made  a  mistake?"  And  when  the  true 
physician  comes  he  says,  "What  have  been  your 
symptoms?"  He  tells  the  tale  of  an  eruption  on 
his  skin,  and  the  remedies  he  resorted  to.  "Ah," 
says  the  physician,  "the  disease  is  driven  inwards; 
you  have  taken  the  wrong  course ;  your  present 
symptoms  are  fatal;  you  will  die.  It  was  well  that 
it  should  come  out  on  your  flesh,  seeing  it  lurked  in 
your  constitution.  When  you  have  a  disease,  you 
had  need  lay  the  axe  at  the  root,  and  not  at  the 
branches.  It  is  not  the  disfigurement  of  the  skin 
that  is  so  alarming  as  the  blood-poisoning  that 
caused  it."  Forthwith  he  begins  to  deal  with  the 
real  evil. 

So,  my  dear  friends,  you  are  only  tinkering  with 
the  symptoms,  the  mere  eruption  on  the  skin,  while 
you  aim  at  outward  reformation.  You  must  be  bom 
again  :  that  is  the  only  cure  for  the  leprosy  of  sin. 

— Spurgeon, 

4.  To  destroy  the  love  of  sin  in  the  soul. 

(4086.)  It  is  one  thing  to  be  angry  with  sin  upon 
a  sudden  discontent,  as  a  man  may  be  with  ins  wife 
whom  he  loves  dearly,  and  another  thing  to  hate  sin 
as  that  which  we  abhor  to  behold  and  endeavour  to 
destroy.     A  filthy  heart,  like  a  foul  body,  may  seem 


REGENERA  TION. 


(    689    ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


for  a  good  while  to  be  in  a  good  plight ;  but  when 
the  heats  and  colds  of  temptation  appear,  it  will 
betray  itself.  Some  insects  lie  in  a  dead  sleep  all 
the  winter,  stir  not,  make  no  noise,  that  one  would 
think  them  dead  ;  but  when  the  weather  alters,  and 
the  sun  shines,  they  revive  and  show  themselves  : 
so,  though  lusts  may  seem  dead  in  an  unregenerate 
man,  they  are  only  laid  asleep,  and  when  opportunity 
is,  will  revive  again.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(40S7.)  Fear  will  do  somewhat  to  curb  a  vitiated 
uature,  but  it  cannot  cure  it.  The  bear  dares  hardly 
touch  his  desired  honey,  for  fear  of  the  stinging  of 
the  bees.  The  dog  forbears  ihe  meat  on  the  table, 
not  because  he  does  not  love  it,  but  because  he  is 
afraid  of  the  cud^^el.  Many  leave  some  sin,  in  their 
outward  actions — as  Jacob  parted  with  Benjamin, 
for  fear  they  should  starve  if  he  kept  him — who  are 
as  fond  of  it  as  the  patriarch  of  his  chilii.  This 
inward  love  of  sin  is  indeed  its  life,  and  that  which 
is  most  dangerous  and  deadly  to  the  soul.  As  an 
imposthume  is  most  dangerous  for  being  inward, 
and  private  rocks  under  water  split  more  vessels 
than  those  that  appear  above  water,  so  sin  reigning 
only  in  the  heart  is  oftentimes  more  hurtful  than 
when  it  rages  in  the  life.  Such  civil  persons  go  to 
hell  without  much  disturbance  ;  being  asleep  in  sin, 
yet  not  snoring  to  the  disquieting  of  others,  they 
are  so  far  from  being  jogged  or  awaked,  that  they 
^&  many  times  praised  and  commended. 

— i>winnock,   1 673. 

(40S8.)  A  vicious  horse  is  none  the  better  tempered 
because  the  kicking  straps  prevent  his  dashing  the 
carriage  to  atoms  ;  ami  so  a  man  is  none  the  better 
really  because  the  restraints  of  custom  and  provi- 
dence may  prevent  his  following  that  course  of  life 
which  he  would  prefer.  Poor  lallen  human  nature 
bejiind  tiie  bars  of  laws,  and  in  the  cage  of  fear  of 
pu:iishment,  is  none  the  less  a  sad  creature;  should 
its  master  unlock  the  door  we  should  soon  see  what 
it  would  be  anil  do.  A  young  leopard  which  had 
been  domesticated,  and  treated  as  a  pet,  licked  its 
master's  hand  while  he  slept,  and  it  so  happened 
that  it  drew  blood  from  a  recent  wound  ;  the  first 
taste  of  blood  translormed  the  gentle  creature  into  a 
raging  v\  ild  beast ;  yet  it  wrought  no  real  change,  it 
only  awakened  the  natural  ferocity  which  had 
always  been  there.  A  change  of  nature  is  required 
for  our  salvation — mere  restraints  are  of  small  value. 

— Spurgeon. 
6,  To  eradicate  pride  and  self-sufficiency. 

(4089.)  We  cannot  without  regeneration  perform 
gospel  duties  humbly.  Old  things  must  pass  away, 
that  God  may  be  all  in  all  m  the  creature.  We 
cannot  witliout  a  new  nature  make  a  true  estimate 
of  ourselves,  and  lie  as  vile  and  base  in  the  presence 
of  God.  A  stone  with  all  the  hammering  cannot  be 
made  soft.  Beat  it  into  several  pieces,  you  may 
sever  the  continuity  of  its  parts,  but  not  master  its 
hardness.  Eveiy  liitle  piece  of  it  will  retain  the 
hardness  of  its  nature.  So  is  it  with  a  heart  of  stone. 
The  nature  must  be  changed  before  it  be  fit  for 
those  services  which  require  melting,  humble,  and 
admiring  frames.  There  is  a  necessity  of  a  residing 
grace,  hke  fire,  to  keep  the  soul  in  a  melting  temper. 
— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

6.  To  enable  ub  to  derive  profit  from  religious 
ordinances. 

^4090.)  Without  regeneration  ordinances  cannot 
be  improved.     The  word  has  no  place  with  the  ur.- 


regenerate  (John  viii.   37).     There  is   no   footing 

naturally  for  any  divine  and  spiritual  truth.  The 
nature  of  the  soil  must  be  changed  before  this 
heavenly  plant  will  thrive.  Plants  grow  not  upon 
stones,  nor  this  heavenly  plant  in  a  stony  heart. 
The  vine  and  the  weed  draw  the  same  moisture  of 
the  earth,  which  in  the  vine  is  transmuted  by  the 
nature  of  the  plant  into  a  nobler  substance  than 
that  in  the  weed.  The  new  nature  of  a  good  man 
turns  the  juice  of  the  word  into  a  nobler  spirit  in 
him  ;  and  according  to  the  nature  of  a  good  man  is 
enriched  with  grace,  the  more  does  he  concoct  the 
word  and  improve  it,  to  the  bringing  forth  fruit,  and 
fruit  of  a  diviner  nature  than  another,  'i'iie  ju.ce  it 
affords  to  all  is  the  same,  but  the  nature  of  the  crea- 
ture turns  it  into  concoction.  Nature  must  be 
changed,  then,  to  make  any  profitable  improvements 
of  the  word  and  other  institutions.  A  stone  re- 
ceives the  \\  ater  upon  it,  not  into  it  ;  it  falls  off  or 
dries  up  as  soon  as  ever  it  falls;  but  a  new  heart, 
a  heart  of  flesh,  sucks  in  the  dew  of  the  word,  and 
grows  thereby.  The  new  birth  and  nature  makes 
us  suck  in  tlie  milk,  and  grow  thereby. 

— Chainock,  i628-l6Sa 

7.  To  enable  us  to  live  for  the  glory  of  God. 
(4091.)   Unsanctified    persons    at    best    act    from 

themselves,  and  therefore  for  themselves.  As  the 
kite,  they  may  spread  their  wings  and  soar  aloft 
as  if  they  touched  heaven,  when,  at  the  highest, 
their  eyes  are  upon  their  prey  upon  earth.  Lucul- 
his  told  his  guests,  when  he  had  feasted  them  liber- 
ally, and  ihey  had  admired  his  bounty  in  their  costly 
entertainment,  "Something,  my  friends,  is  for  your 
sakes,  but  the  greater  part  is  lor  Lucullus'  own  sake." 
An  unconverted  person  may  do  something,  some 
small  matter  for  tlie  sake  of  religion,  from  common 
gifts  of  illumination,  &c.  ;  but  the  most  that  he 
does  is  for  liis  own  sake,  for  that  credit  or  profit 
which  he  expects  thereby.  If  anything  be  enjoined 
which  thwarts  his  interest,  he  will  reply  with  Ajax, 
when  conmianded  to  spare  Ulysses,  "  In  other 
things  I  will  obey  the  gods,  but  not  in  this." 

— Swinnockf  1673. 

8.  To  enable  us  to  live  a  holy  life. 

(4092.)  An  old  heart  will  never  serve  for,  or  en- 
able unto,  the  acts  of  new  obedience.  The  water 
will  rise  no  higher  than  the  fountain-head  whence 
it  floweth.  If  you  would  have  a  clock  to  move 
regulaily,  and  the  hand  without  to  go  true,  you 
must  have  the  wheels  and  poises  right  within. 

— Sivmnock,   1673. 

(4093.)  Thou  must  be  righteous  and  holy,  before 
thou  canst  live  righteously  and  holily.  If  the  ship 
hath  not  its  right  make  ac  first,  be  not  equally  poised 
according  to  the  law  of  that  art,  it  will  never  sail 
trim  ;  and  if  the  heart  be  not  moukleil  anew  by  the 
workmanship  of  the  SjMrit,  and  fashioned  according 
to  the  law  ol  the  new  creature,  "/«  wliich  old  things 
pass  away,  aiid  all  ihittj^s  become  iteiv,"  the  creature 
will  never  walk  holily.       — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4094.)  We  must  be  born  again  ;  it  is  not  a  dead 
nature,  nor  a  dead  faith,  can  produce  living  fruit  for 
God.  We  may  as  well  read  without  eyes,  walk 
without  legs,  act  without  life,  as  perform  any  service 
to  God  without  a  new  nature  ;  no,  we  cannot  per- 
form the  least ;  a  dead  man  can  no  more  move  his 
finger  than  his  whole  body. 

— Chainock,  1 628-1 68a 
2    X 


REGENERA  TION. 


(    690    ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


(4095.)  Without  a  change  of  nature,  men's  prac- 
tice will  not  be  thoroughly  changed.  Until  the 
tree  be  made  good,  the  fruit  will  not  be  good. 
Men  do  not  gather  grapes  of  thorns,  nor  figs  of 
thistles.  The  swine  may  be  washed,  and  ap[iear 
clean  for  a  little  while,  but  yet,  without  a  change  of 
nature,  he  will  still  wallow  in  the  mire.  Nature  is  a 
more  powerful  principle  of  action,  ihan  anything  that 
opposes  it  :  though  it  may  be  violently  restrained 
for  a  while,  it  will  finally  overcome  that  which 
restrains  it.  It  is  lil<e  the  stream  of  a  river,  it  may 
be  stopped  a  while  with  a  dam,  but  if  nothing  be 
done  to  dry  the  fountain,  it  will  not  be  stopped 
always ;  it  will  have  a  course,  either  in  its  old 
channel,  or  a  new  one.  Nature  is  a  thmg  more 
constant  and  |iermanent  than  any  of  those  things 
that  are  the  foundation  of  carnal  men's  reformation 
and  righteuu>ness.  When  a  natural  man  denies  his 
lust,  lives  a  strict,  religious  life,  and  seems  humble, 
painful,  and  earnest  in  religion,  it  is  not  natural,  it 
is  all  a  force  against  nature  ;  as  when  a  stone  is 
violently  thrown  upwards.  But  that  force  will  be 
gradually  spent  ;  nature  will  remain  in  its  full 
strength,  and  so  prevails  again,  and  the  stone 
returns  upwards.  As  long  as  corrupt  nature  is  not 
mortified,  but  the  principle  left  whole  in  a  man,  it 
b  a  vain  thing  to  expect  tiiat  it  shuuld  not  govern. 
But  if  the  old  nature  be  indeed  mortified,  and  a  new 
heavenly  nature  infused,  then  may  it  well  be  ex- 
pected, that  men  will  walk  in  newness  of  life,  and 
continue  to  do  so  to  thf  end  of  their  days. 

— Jonalhan  Edwards^  1637-1716. 

9.  To  make  us  like  Christ. 

(4096.)  As  «e  cannot  be  like  to  Christ  in  our 
walk  here  without  a  new  birth,  neither  can  we 
without  it  be  like  to  Chiist  in  glory  hereafter.  It 
is  not  the  place  makes  us  like  to  God,  but  there 
must  be  a  likeness  to  God  to  make  the  place 
pleasant  to  us.  When  once  the  angels  had  cor- 
rupted their  nature,  the  short  stay  they  made  in 
heaven  did  neither  please  them  nor  reform  them. 
And  when  Satan  appeared  before  God,  among  the 
angels  (Job  i.  6),  neither  God's  presence  nor  His 
speaking  to  him  did  anywise  better  him  ;  he  came 
a  devil  and  he  went  away  so,  without  any  pleasure 
in  the  place  or  presence,  but  by  the  permission  of 
God  to  wreak  his  malice  on  holy  Job. 

— Charnock,    1628-1680. 

10.  To  ensure  a  durable  profession. 

(4097.)  Reader,  make  sure  of  this  inward  change; 
otherwise,  though  thy  conversation  may  lie  specious, 
it  can  never  be  gracious,  nor  thy  profession  durable. 
If  the  house  be  built  on  loose  earth,  it  will  never 
stand  long.  When  the  principles  are  variable  and 
uncertain,  so  will  the  practices  be.  If  the  argu- 
ments upon  which  thou  lakest  upon  thee  the  livery 
of  Christ,  and  the  grounds  of  thy  engagement  in 
His  service,  be  not  firin  and  constant — the  love  of 
God,  and  hope  of  eternal  life,  &c. — such  as  the 
world  and  flesh  cannot  over-to]),  thou  wilt  throw  up 
thy  profession  and  leave  thy  Nlaster,  when  thou  art 
offered,  in  thy  blind  judgment,  a  better  service 
(though  it  be  but  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season, 
with  eternal  pains  at  the  end  of  them)  for  thy  soul 
and  Saviour  and  eternal  salvation.  How  well  may 
he  prove  a  bankrupt,  who  is  worse  than  nought 
when  he  first  sets  up  1  I  wonder  not  that  many 
professors  disown  the  Lord  Jesus,  when  they  are 
ignorant  why  they  at  any  time  owned   !lim.      He 


that  takes  up  religion  on  trust,  will  lay  it  down  when 
it  brings  him  iiito  trouble.  He  that  follows  Christ, 
he  knoweth  not  why,  will  forsake  llini,  he  knoweth 
not  how.  — Swinnock,  ^673. 

11.  To  qualify  us  for  heaven. 

(4098.)  As  regeneration  is  necessary  to  a  gospel 
state,  so  it  is  necessary  to  a  state  ol  glory.  It  seems 
to  be  typified  by  the  strength  and  ireshness  of  the 
Israelites  when  they  entered  into  Canaan.  Not  a 
decrepit  and  infirm  person  set  foot  on  the  promised 
land  :  none  of  those  who  came  out  of  Egypt  with 
an  Egyptian  nature,  and  desires  for  the  garlic  and 
onions  thereof,  with  a  suffering  their  old  bondage, 
but  drojiped  their  carcases  in  the  wilderness  ;  only 
the  two  sjjies,  who  had  encouraged  them  against 
the  seeming  difficulties.  None  that  retain  only  the 
old  man,  born  in  the  house  of  bondage,  but  only 
a  new  regenerate  creature,  shall  enter  into  the 
heavenly  Canaan.  Heaven  is  the  inlieiitance  of 
the  sanctified,  not  of  the  filthy  (Acts  xxvi.  18), 
"That  they  may  receive  an  inheritance  among 
them  which  are  sanctified,  through  faith  that  is  l& 
me."  — Char  nock,  1 628- 1 680. 

(4099.)  As  we  come  out  of  the  quarry  of  nature, 
rough  and  unpolished,  we  are  not  fit  to  be  cemented 
with  the  corner-stone  in  the  heavenly  building :  we 
must  be  first  smoothed  and  altered  by  grace, 

—  C/iarnock,  1628- 1680. 

(4100.)  The  duties  of  heaven  cannot  be  per- 
formed without  a  new  nature.  Is  it  usual  in  this 
world  to  take  up  a  person  from  under  a  hedge,  and 
bring  him  to  an  immediate  attendance  on  a  prince 
without  cleansing  him,  and  begetting  the  other  dis- 
positions and  behaviour  in  him  by  some  choice 
education  ?  God  picks  some  out  for  an  immediate 
attendance  on  Him  in  heaven  ;  but  He  sends  His 
Spirit  to  be  their  tutor,  to  breed  them  up,  and  grace 
their  deformed  souls  with  beautiful  features  ;  and 
their  ulcerous  and  cancerous  spirits,  with  a  sound 
complexion,  that  they  may  be  meet  to  stand  before 
Him.  When  God  calls  any  to  do  Him  service  in 
a  particular  station  in  the  world.  He  gives  them 
another  heart;  so  he  did  to  Saul  for  the  kingdom 
(i  Sam.  X.  9).  Is  there  not  much  more  necessity 
of  it  (or  an  immediate  service  of  God  in  heaven? 
A  malefactor,  by  pardon,  is  in  a  capacity  to  come 
into  the  presence  of  a  prince,  and  serve  him  at  his 
table  ;  but  he  is  not  in  a  fitness  till  his  noisome 
garments,  full  of  his  prison  vermin,  be  taken  off. 
Can  one  that  is  neither  pardoned  nor  purilied,  one 
with  guilt  of  rebellion  upon  him,  and  a  nature  of 
rebellion  in  him,  be  fit  to  stand  before  God  ? 

— Charnock,  162S-1680. 

(4101.)  If  God  should  bring  a  man  with  his  cor« 
rupt  nature  into  local  heaven,  God  could  not  please 
Himself  in  it,  nor  sucli  an  one  delight  himself  in  God, 
no  more  than  a  swine  can  be  pleased  with  the 
presence  of  an  angel,  or  a  mole  sport  itself  with  the 
beauty  of  flowers,  or  a  vitiated  eye  rejoice  at  the 
brightness  of  light. 

Without  a  new  nature,  a  new  frame,  we  are  no 
more  able  to  understand  or  enjoy  the  pleasures  of 
heaven,  than  a  bat  is  to  take  pleasure  in  a  mathe- 
matician's lines  or  a  philosopher's  books. 

— CJuirnock,  1628-1680. 

(4102.)  The  new  birth  is  necessary  as  to  the  duty, 
so  to   the   reward   of  heaven.      As    the    reward   is 


REGENERA  TION. 


(    691     ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


exccedirg  glorious,  the  preparation  thereto  must  be 
exceeding  gracious.  The  rewards  of  heaven  are 
something  incorporated  with  us,  in  the  very  frame 
of  our  souls,  and  cannot  be  conceived  enjoyable 
without  a  change  in  the  nature  of  the  subject.  Man 
was  first  formed  before  he  was  brought  into  the 
garden  of  Eden,  or  pleasure  :  there  lie  "  put  the 
man  whom  He  had  formed."  Man  must  be  new 
formed  before  he  can  be  brought  into  tliat  place, 
which  is  the  antitype  of  Eden,  the  place  of  eternal 
and  spiritual  pleasure.  A  natural  man  can  no  more 
relish  the  rewards  of  heaven,  than  a  dead  carcase 
can  esteem  a  crown  and  a  purple  rube  ;  or  be 
delighted  with  the  true  pleasure  of  heaven,  than  a 
swine  that  loves  to  wallow  in  the  mire  can  be 
delighted  with  a  bed  of  roses.  A  disorder  in  nature 
is  a  prohibition  to  all  happiness  belonging  to  that 
nature  ;  a  distempered  body  under  the  lury  of  a 
disease  can  find  no  delight  in  the  pleasures  of  the 
healthful  ;  a  wicked  man,  with  a  troubled  and 
foaming  sea  of  sin  and  lust  in  his  mind,  would  find 
r\o  more  rest  in  heaven  than  a  man  with  his  dis- 
jointed members  upon  a  rack  can  in  the  heauty  of 
a  picture.  We  must  be  spiritually-minded  before 
we  can  have  either  life  or  peace.  Righteousness 
in  the  soul  is  the  necessary  qualification  for  the 
peace  and  joy  in  the  kingdom  of  God  :  "  The  king- 
dom of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink,  but  righteous- 
ness, and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 
While  malice  remains  in  the  devil's  nature,  were 
he  admitted  into  heaven  he  would  receive  a  torment 
instead  of  a  content.  A  wicked  man  would  meet 
w,'ith  hell  in  the  midst  of  heaven  as  long  as  he 
carries  his  own  rack  within  him,  boiling  and  raging 
lusts  in  his  heart,  which  can  receive  no  content- 
ment wiihout  objects  suitable  to  them,  let  tlie  place 
be  what  it  will.  Heaven,  indeed,  is  not  only  a  place, 
but  a  nature  ;  and  it  is  a  contradiction  to  think  that 
any  can  be  happy  with  a  nature  contrary  to  the 
very  essence  of  happiness. 

— Charnock,  1628- 1 680. 

12.  Because  there  can  be  no  substitute  for  it. 

(4103.)  No  earthly  change  whatever  can  be  a 
substitute  for  the  change  which  comes  Irom  above  ; 
any  more  than  the  lights  of  earth  will  suffice  for 
the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  any  more  than  all  the 
possible  changes  through  which  a  potter  may  pass 
a  piece  of  clay  can  convert  it  into  the  bright,  round, 
pure,  stamped,  golden  coin  of  the  realm. 

— Bates,  1625-1699, 

(4104.)  If  the  works  of  a  watch  are  out  of  order, 
it  is  of  no  use  to  be  continually  setting  the  hands, 
they  will  soon  be  wrong  again  ;  you  must  go  to  ihe 
watchmaker's  to  repair  the  interior  mechanism:  so 
it  is  for  no  purpose  for  a  vicious  man  to  be  now  and 
then  attempting  some  little  reformation  in  outwaid 
conduct,  he  must  also  pray  for  the  renewal  of  his 
heart.  — Salter, 

(4105.)  "You  are  vile-looking  stuff!"  said  a 
stone  of  I.ime  to  a  lump  of  sol't  Red  Clay  by  the 
door  of  the  I'ottery,  one  day. 

"Very  true,"  thought  the  Clay  within  itself; 
and  as  it  could  not  deny  what  was  said,  it  said 
nothing. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  not  object  to  a  better 
condition  if  you  might?"  said  the  other. 

"Truly  I  would  not,"  replied  the  Red  Clay; 
"but  the  Question  is,  How  may  it  be  done?" 


"I  have  the  quality  of  whitening  whatever  I 
touch,"  answered  tlie  Lime,  "and  am  therefore, 
out  of  pure  pity,  willing  to  render  you  a  good 
service.' 

"It  will  be  very  thankfully  received,"  said  the 
Clay. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  the  Lime,  "  I'm  connected 
with  the  whitewashing  business,  which  is  a  very 
wholesome  and  purifying  process.  Now,  a  little 
that  I  could  make,  rubbed  over  your  surface,  would 
turn  you  as  white  as  any  snowball." 

"  Would  it  I  "  said  the  Clay. 

"Yes  it  would,  I  promise,"  answered  the  Lime. 

"That  would  be  a  wonderful  thing  in  my  favour, 
so  far  as  appearance  is  concerned,"  said  the  Clay. 

"And  wliat  would  you  wish  for  more  ?"  observed 
the  Lime.  "  It  is  your  appearence  that  you  want 
to  improve,  is  it  not  ?" 

"Truly;  but,  I'm  thinking,  as  it  would  not 
change  my  nature,  I  should  still  only  be  Clay  inside, 
after  all,"  it  replied. 

"Oh,  inside  !  Never  mind  that,  if  you  are  fair 
outside.  Ueiier  the  decepiion  if  nobody  could  dis- 
cover it,"  answered  the  Lime. 

"And  would  it  last  always?"  asked  the  Red 
Clay  again. 

'"  If  you  were  not  to  be  meddled  with  ;  and  were 
particularly  careful  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  water," 
said  the  Lime. 

"  Why  ?"  it  inquired. 

"Oh;  why?  why  because,  of  course,  whitewash 
will  rub  off  and  easily  wash  off.  To  keep  white, 
only  keep  out  of  the  way  of  rubbing  and  rain," 
remarked  the  Lime. 

"  Ah  1  yes,  I  see  :  but  thank  you,  I  had  rather 
honestly  own  what  I  am,  than  wear  a  disguise,  and 
be  a  whitewashed  deceiver.  The  true  way  of  having 
my  condition  bettered,  is  by  being  manufactured 
into  some  useful  article.  Do  you  observe  all  those 
pans,  pitchers,  and  other  admirably  formed  vessels? 
Well,  they  were  all  once  only  Red  Clay  like  me; 
we  have  but  the  same  common  origin  ;  and  the  skill 
that  converted  lumps  of  vile  earth  into  such  L>eauti- 
ful  and  useful  things,  is  able  to  make  nie  into  a 
vessel '  fit  for  the  Master's  use  :  '  for  which  purpose, 
I  have  been  taken  up  out  of  the  miry  pit  ;  and  am 
placed  here  by  the  Good  Potter,  who  will  not  de- 
spise the  work  of  His  own  hands,  however  vile  by 
nature  I  acknowledge  that  1  am." 

No  external  rites  can  change  the  heart  ;  which, 
by  nature,  is  earthly  througnou*.  and  vile  before 
God.  Our  Lord  described  some  Pharisaical  char- 
acters as  "whited,"  or  whitewashed,  "sepulchres." 
Only  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  by  His  renewing 
grace,  can  mould  us  according  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  make  us  "vessels  of  honour  meet  for  the 
Master's  use,  and  prepared  unto  every  good  work  " 
(2  Tim.  ii.  21).  — Bowden, 

III.    ITS   AUTHOR. 

(4106.)  All  a  man's  teaching  will  never  reform  the 
heart.  Man's  light  is  as  a  March  sun,  which  raises 
vapours,  but  does  not  disjjcl  and  scatter  them  :  so  it 
discovers  lust,  hut  does  not  give  us  power  to  supx- 
press  it.  Therefore  our  main  business  must  be  to 
be  taught  of  God.  — Alanton,  1620-1667. 

(4107.)  Man,  by  the  help  of  instituted  privileges, 
does  not  jiioduce  this  work  of  regeneration  in  him- 
self, without  a  supernatural  grace  attending  them. 
Ordinances   cannut  renew  a  man,  but  the  arm   0/ 


REGENERATION. 


(     692     ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


God.  which  manages  them,  edges  them  into  efficacy, 
as  the  arm  that  wields  the  sword  gives  the  blow. 
Means  are  the  showers  of  heaven,  but  tliey  can  no 
more  make  the  heart  fruitful  lill  some  gracious 
principles  be  put  in,  than  the  be;Tms  of  the  sun,  tlie 
dews  of  heaven,  and  the  waterjiots  of  the  clouds, 
can  make  a  barren  ground  biing  forth  flowers,  with- 
out a  change  of  the  nature  of  the  soil,  and  new  roots 
pla'ited  in  it.  All  the  spectacles  in  the  world  can- 
not cure  a  man's  e\  es ;  he  must  have  a  visive 
faculty  to  make  use  of  them.  Our  faculty  must  be 
cured  before  we  can  exercise  it  about  objects,  or 
vise  means  projier  to  that  faculty.  All  persuasions 
will  not  pievail  with  a  dead  man  ;  the  fairest  dis- 
courses, the  most  undeniable  aiguments,  the  most 
moving  rhetoric  wil'.  not  slir  or  affect  him,  till  God 
take  away  the  s'one  from  the  grave  and  raise  him 
to  life.  — C/ianmk,  1628-1680. 

(410S.)  Ascribe  nothing  to  instruments,  either 
men  or  means.  It  is  not  of  the  will  of  man,  nor 
another's  will.  Without  the  efficacious  working  of 
the  Spirit,  the  gospel  itself  is  but  as  a  dead  letter  ; 
the  .Spirit  only  quickens  it.  It  is  nut  outward 
teaching  and  blowing  which  of  itself  will  kindle 
these  sparks;  an  instrument  cannot  act  without  the 
streni^th  of  an  agent  to  manage  it  ;  the  chisel  forms 
the  stone  into  a  statue,  but  accoiding  to  the  skill 
and  strength  of  the  artificer  moving  it.  It  is  not 
the  breath  of  a  man,  and  a  few  words  out  of  his 
mouth,  can  produce  so  great  a  work  as  the  new 
crt  ation  ;  this  might  be  a  reason  why  God  chose  so 
weak  an  instrument  as  man  to  pi  each  the  gospel, 
to  evidence  that  the  great  work  was  not  from  the 
weakness  of  man,  but  the  power  of  God. 

— Charnock,  162S-16S0. 

(4109.)  All  mere  outward  declarations  are  but 
suasions,  and  mere  suasion  cannot  change  and  cure 
a  disease  or  habit  in  nature.  \'ou  mayexhoitan 
Ethiop  to  turn  himself  white,  or  a  lame  man  to  go  ; 
but  the  most  pathetical  exhortations  cannot  ]irocure 
such  an  effect  without  a  greater  power  than  that  of 
the  tongue  to  cine  nature  ;  you  may  as  well  think  to 
raise  a  (lead  man  by  blowing  in  his  mouth  with  a 
pair  of  bellows.  — Charnock,    1628-16S0. 

(41 10.)  All  the  power  of  regenerate  men  in  the 
world  joined  together  cannot  renew  another  ;  all 
the  industry  of  man,  without  the  influence  of  the 
heavens  in  the  sun  and  rain,  cannot  produce  fruit  in 
the  earth,  nD,  nor  the  moral  industry  of  men  grace 
in  the  soul.  — Charnock,  1628-16S0. 

(4111.)  The  wintry  day  is  a  striking  emblem  of 
the  state  of  the  suul  of  every  individual  till  it  is  re- 
newed. The  mind  of  the  sinner  is  so  benighted, 
that  he  sees  no  glory  in  God  :  his  lieart  is  so  cold 
that  he  is  a  stram^er  to  the  sweet  emotions  of  love 
and  graiitude  ;  and  his  life  is  barren,  like  the  wintry 
soil,  of  the  wholesoyie  fruits  of  righteousness.  The 
day  in  spring,  on  the  contrary,  is  obviously  descrip- 
tive of  the  renewed  soul — all  is  life,  animation, 
fruilfulness.  Then  the  eye  is  opened,  and  God  has 
said,  "  Let  tliere  be  light,"  and  there  is  light.  It 
is  the  blessed  dawn  of  an  eternal  day.  It  is  the 
work  of  God  to  change  the  gloomy  month  of  winter 
for  the  delightful  season  of  spring  :  "  Every  good 
gift,"  &c.  No  one  but  He  that  fwrmed  the  spring 
can  renew  it.  No  human  power  could  have  intro- 
duced the  spring  a  month  earlier,  or  have  iritroduced 
it  at  alL      So  the  efforts  of  the  greatest  anr.  best  of 


men  for  the  renewal  of  sinners,  without  the  gracious 
influences  of  the  Spirit,  will  be  equally  inefficacious. 

—Salter. 

(4112.)  Some  people  laufjh  at  regeneration  by 
the  Spirit  of  God,  and  think  there  is  nothing  in  it  ; 
a  plain  sign  that  they  themselves  are  quite  without 
it.  If  a  man  were  to  come  and  tell  me  that  there 
is  no  such  thing  in  the  world  as  money,  I  should 
take  it  for  granted  that  he  therefore  thinks  so,  be- 
cause he  himself  never  had  any. 

—  top  lady,  1 740-1 7  78. 

(41 1 3.)  No  plant  or  tree  can  grow  by  any  inher- 
ent ability,  apart  from  sun,  soil,  moisture,  heat,  and 
the  like.  No  animal  can  do  so  simple  a  thing  as 
breathing  by  inherent  ability,  he  must  have  air; 
lie  can  walk,  or  run,  or  climb,  or  fly,  only  by 
conditions  external,  that  must  be  supplied.  So 
also  the  mind  or  intelligence  can  remember  only 
as  fit  associations  are  supplied  to  assist  the  re- 
call of  things  gone  by,  or  discover  laws  only  when 
stimulated  by  the  suggestions  of  appropriate  facts, 
or  maintain  a  power  of  high  command  only  where 
there  are  great  occasions  and  perils  to  be  mastered. 
In  just  the  same  way,  passing  to  what  is  spiritual, 
God  cannot  be  loved,  save  as  lie  is  offered  to  love 
in  qualities  that  will  awaken  and  support  love  ;  and, 
for  the  same  reason,  no  sinner  of  mankind  can  re- 
generate himself  by  any  inherent  ability,  apart  from 
conditions  powerfully  presenting  God,  and  pouring 
His  radiance  into  the  soul  ;  for  the  regenerate  slate 
is  only  the  new  revelation  of  God  within,  whence 
before  He  was  excluded,  so  that  now  life  proceeds 
from  Him  as  its  actuating  impuLe  and  law. 

— Bushnell. 

IV.    ITS  EVIDENCES. 

1.  If  it  has  taken  place,  there  are  sure  to  be 
evidences  of  it. 

(4114.)  Regeneration  is  never  without  some 
effect  ;  if  we  have  not  the  properties,  we  have  not  the 
nature.  If  the  air  be  dark  and  pitchy,  that  a  man 
cannot  see  his  ^^ay,  it  is  a  sign  the  sun  is  not  up 
to  enlighten  that  hemisphere.  A  thick  darkness 
cannot  remain  with  the  sun's  rising.  The  works 
of  darkness,  with  their  power,  cannot  remain  with 
a  new  creature  state.  The  old  rubbish  cannot 
wholly  remain  with  a  new  building.  Look  well, 
therefore,  whether  old  principles,  aims,  customs, 
company,  affections,  are  passed  away,  and  whether 
new  aflections,  principles,  ends,  be  settled  in  the 
room.  — Charnock,  162S-16S0. 

(41 1 5.)  In  the  Bible  it  is  designated  as  "life  from 
the  dead,"  and  as  a  "new  creation  ;"  and  it  is 
impossible  that  this  change  shouki  lake  place  and 
no  eviilence  be  furnished  of  it ;  or  that  it  should 
occur  anil  produce  no  difference  in  the  life.  Can 
the  vegetable  world  again  bloom  with  beauty  in  the 
returning  spring,  after  the  long  death  of  the  winter, 
and  give  no  evidence  of  life?  Can  the  buds  open, 
and  the  flowers  blossom,  and  the  grass  carpet  the 
earth,  and  yet  all  be  as  cold  and  sterile  as  in  the 
winter  ?  Could  the  now  pale,  and  stiff,  and 
mouldering  corpses  under  ground  leave  their  graves 
ami  come  torlh,  and  yet  thei't  be  no  evidence  of  life? 
Could  the  sun  rise  suddenly  at  miilnight,  and  shed 
his  beams  on  the  dark  world,  and  there  be  no 
evidence  of  the  mighty  change  ?  And  can  a  sinner, 
dead  in  sin,  be  quickened  into  life  by  the  power  of 
God's  Spirit,   and  still   there  be  no  life ;    can   the 


REGENERA  TION. 


(    693    ) 


REGENERA  TION, 


powers  of  the  soul,  long  torpid  and  chill  in  the 
dreary  winter  of  sin,  be  warmed  and  animated  with 
the  love  of  God,  and  no  one  know  it  ?  Can  the 
pure  light  of  the  Sun  of  Rii^hleousness  pour  its 
beams  into  the  soul  darkened  by  sin,  and  all  be  as 
benighted  as  ever?  Can  the  slave  in  sin  be  at 
liberty?  can  the  Gospel  touch  his  shackles,  and  his 
limbs  feel  the  manly  impulse  of  freedom  of  the  sons 
of  God,  and  he  continue  to  feel  and  act  as  if  he  were 
still  a  slave  ?  Can  the  poor  maniac  he  restored  to  his 
right  mind,  the  wandering  eye  of  the  lunatic  become 
settled  aad  calm,  and  no  one  know  it  ?  Can  he 
who  has  all  his  life  hated  eternal  and  infinite 
excellence,  be  brought  to  love  it,  and  the  soul 
itself  be  ignorant  of  the  amazing  transformation  ? 
And  can  he  who  has  des;iised  the  Cross,  and 
trampled  the  blood  of  the  covenant  bent- ath  his  feet, 
embrace  that  Cro^s  as  the  only  foundation  of  his 
hope  of  ht-aven,  and  yet  give  so  dubious  indications 
of  the  change  that  no  one  bhall  know  it,  or  suspect 
ll  from  his  conduct  ? 

— Barnes,  1 790-1870. 

2.  Purlflcatlon  of  the  thouehts  of  the  heart. 

(41 16.)  We  can  have  no  greater  evidence  of  a 
change  in  us  from  this  state  and  condition,  than  a 
change  wrcnight  in  the  course  of  our  thoughts.  A 
relinquishment  of  this  or  tliat  jiaiticular  sin  is  not 
an  evidence  of  a  translation  from  this  state  ;  for  such 
particular  sins  proceed  from  particular  lusts  and 
temptations,  and  are  not  tiie  immediate  universal 
consequence  of  that  dejiravation  of  nature  which 
is  equal  in  all.  Such  alone  are  the  vanity  and 
wickedness  of  the  thoughts  and  imaginations  of  tlie 
heart.  A  change  her<;  is  a  blessed  evidence  of  a 
change  of  state.  He  who  is  cured  of  a  dropsy  is 
not  immediately  healthy,  because  he  may  have  the 
jirevailing  seeds  and  matier  of  other  diseases  in 
him,  and  tiie  next  day  die  of  a  lethargy  ;  but  he 
who,  from  a  state  of  sickness,  is  restored,  in  the 
temperature  of  the  mass  of  blood  and  animal  spirits, 
and  all  the  principles  of  life  and  health,  unto  a  good 
crisis  and  temperature,  his  state  of  body  is  changed. 
The  cure  of  a  particular  sin  may  leave  behind  it  the 
seeds  of  eternal  death,  which  they  may  quickly 
effect ;  but  he  who  has  obtained  a  change  in  this 
character,  which  belongs  essentially  to  the  state  of 
depraved  nature,  is  spiritually  recovered.  And  the 
more  the  stream  of  our  thoughts  is  turned,  the  more 
our  minds  are  filled  by  tho>e  of  a  contrary  nature, 
the  greater  and  more  firm  is  our  evidence  of  a 
translation  out  of  that  depraved  si  ate  and  condition. 
— Owen,  1616-1683. 

8.  Hatred  of  slu. 

(41 17.)  St.  John  spoke  a  hard  saying,  but  by  the 
Spirit  of  manifestation  we  are  all  taught  to  under- 
stand it  :  "  Whosoever  is  born  of  God  doth  not 
commit  sin  ;  for  His  seed  reinaineth  in  him  :  and  he 
cannot  sin,  because  he  is  born  of  God  "  (l  John  iii.  9). 
The  seed  of  God  is  the  Spirit,  which  hnth  a  plastic 
power  to  efform  us  ;/;  similitudinetn  filionim  Dei, 
into  the  image  of  the  sons  ol  God  ;  and  as  long  as 
this  remains  m  us,  while  the  .Sjairit  dwells  in  us,  we 
cannot  sin  ;  that  is,  it  is  against  our  natures,  our 
reformed  natures,  to  sin.  And  as  vve  say  we  cannot 
endure  such  a  potion,  we  cannot  sufier  such  a  pain  ; 
that  is,  we  cannot  without  great  trouble,  we  cannot 
without  doing  violence  to  our  nature  ;  so  all  spiritual 
men,  all  that  are  Lorn  of  Goil,  and  the  seed  of  God  j 
remains  in  them,  "tiiey  cannot  sin  j"  cannot  with-  1 


out  trouble,  and  doing  against  their  natures  and  theit 
most  passionate  inclinations.  A  man  if  you  speak 
naturally,  can  masticate  gums,  and  he  can  break  his 
own  legs,  and  he  can  sip  up  by  little  draughts, 
mixtures  of  aloes  and  rhubarb,  of  henbane  or  the 
deadly  niglitshade  ;  but  he  cannot  do  this  naturally, 
or  willingly,  or  cheei fully,  or  with  delight.  Every 
sin  is  ai;ainst  a  good  man's  nature  ;  he  is  ill  at 
ease  when  he  has  missed  his  prayers,  he  is 
amazed  if  he  have  fallen  into  error,  he  is  infinitely 
ashamed  of  his  imprudence  ;  he  remembers  a  sin 
as  he  thinks  of  an  enemy,  or  the  horrors  of  a 
midnight  apparition;  for  all  his  capacities,  his 
understanding,  and  his  choosing  faculties,  are 
filled  up  with  the  opinion  and  persuasions,  with 
the  love  and  with  the  desires  of  God. 

— -Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

{41 18.)  The  Spirit  of  God  begets  in  the  man  that 
is  born  of  the  Spirit  a  natural  luitreil  to  sin,  though 
he  loved  it  in  his  old  estate.  The  vulture's  nature 
is  to  prey  with  horrid  preference  on  the  putrid  car- 
cases of  the  dead.  But  did  you  ever  see  the  gentle 
dove  gorging  the  loathsome  food?  So  the  sinner 
feeds  with  deliLjht  on  the  nauseous  enjoyments  of 
his  iniquity,  like  the  can  i'U  eating  bird  of  prey, 
while  the  regenerate  soul  has  a  holy  disgust  of  all 
that  is  offensive  to  his  heavenly  nature. 

—Salter. 

4.  Holiness  of  life. ' 

(41 19.)  As  a  man  is  judged  and  known  to  bt 
waking  when  he  can  do  the  office  of  a  waking  man, 
as  talk,  work,  wiie,  or  such  like  :  even  so  is  a  man 
awaked  out  of  the  sleep  of  sins  when  he  lives  in 
charity,  fears  God,  and  walks  according  to  His  law  in 
His  vocation.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(4120.)  If  you  have  learned  Christ  as  the  truth 
is  in  Him,  you  have  so  learned  Hun  as  to  put  off 
the  old  man  and  to  put  on  the  new,  Faiih  works 
by  love,  even  as  the  tree  has  both  its  leaf  and  fruit. 
And  as  if  a  tree  should  be  chnnyed  from  one  kind 
to  another,  the  leaves  and  Irviit  should  likewise  be 
changed  ;  as  if  a  pear-tree  should  be  made  an  apple- 
tree,  it  would  have  leaves  and  fruits  agreeing  to  the 
change  made  in  it  ;  so  man  by  faith  having  his 
heart  purified,  made  a  tree  of  righteousness,  he  has 
his  leaves  and  fruits ;  leaves  of  prolession,  fruits  of 
action.  So  again,  a  man,  as  a  new  tree  set  into 
and  growing  out  of  Christ,  bears  a  new  fruit,  he 
converses  in  holiness  and  newness  of  life.  Thus 
you  see  how  those  that  are  faithful  are  also  saints, 
because  by  faith  their  heart  is  purified,  their  pro- 
fession and  conversation  are  sanctified. 

— Bayne,  1617. 

6.  Likeness  to  Christ. 

(4121.)  The  creation  of  the  world  is  a  shadow  of 
the  regeneration  of  a  Christian.  First,  there  was 
an  earth  without  form,  void,  and  a  darkness  upon 
the  face  of  the  deep.  Predestination  is  this  great 
deep,  which  cannot  be  discovered  or  discerned. 
There  the  lii^ht  was  separated  from  the  darkness; 
here  knowledge  is  separated  from  ignorance  in  the 
soul ;  there  is  calling.  Then  was  the  sun  created  ; 
so  here  the  bright  beams  of  grace  are  dilTused  into 
our  hearts  which  fill  us  with  spiritual  joy  ;  there  it 
sanctification.  Lastly,  Adam  «as  created  after  the 
image  of  God,  and  jilaced  in  Paradise  ;  so  the  new 
man  is  conformed  to  the  image  of  Christ,  and  shall 
be  reposed  in  the  paradise  of  everlasting  glory. 

— Adams,  1655 


REGENERA  TION. 


(     694.    ) 


REGENERA  TION. 


6.  Ease  and  deligbt  in  the  performance  of  duty. 

(4122.)  Regeneration  changeih  the  frame  of  our 
thouglus,  and  maketli  us  to  mount  upwards.  Those 
that  are  regenerated  can  in  some  measure  perfurm 
their  duties  naturally  and  easily  ;  it  is  as  easy  for  the 
flame  to  ascend  as  lor  a  stone  to  descend.  A  vine 
doth  with  as  much  ease  produce  grapes  as  a  thistle 
or  a  tlioi  n  doth  prickles  ;  and,  therefore,  thy  heart 
may  produce  spiiitual  meditations  with  almost  as 
much  ease  as  a  carnal  man  shall  produce  sensual, 
corrupt,  vile  thoughts,  if  thou  dost  not  injure  the 
divine  nature,  but  exercise  it  in  sending  up  holy 
thoughts  towards  God.  — Salter. 

(41 23. )  What  is  the  religion  of  too  many  ? — They 
are  like  machines,  impelled  by  force  :  they  are  in- 
fluenced only  by  external  considerations.  Their 
hearts  are  not  engaged.  Hence,  in  every  religious 
exercise  they  perform  a  task.  They  would  love 
(jod  much  better,  if  He  would  excuse  them  alto- 
gether from  the  hateful  obligation.  They  put  off 
these  duties  as  long  as  possible  ;  resort  to  them  with 
reluctance  ;  adjust  the  measure  with  a  niggardly 
grudge  ;  and  are  glad  of  any  excuse  for  neglect. 
While  labouring  at  the  drudgery,  they  entertain 
hard  thoughts  of  the  cruel  Taskmaster,  who  can 
impose  such  severities  upon  them,  and  sigh  in- 
wardly, "  When  will  the  Sabbath  be  over?  when 
sliall  we  unbend  from  these  spiritual  restraints,  and 
feel  ourselves  at  liberty  in  the  world?"  Can  this 
be  religion?  Is  there  anything  in  this,  suitable  to 
the  nature  of  God,  who  is  "a  Spirit"?  or  to  the 
demands  of  God,  who  cries,  "My  son,  give  Me 
thine  heart ;  "  "serve  the  Loid  with  gladness,  and 
come  before  His  presence  with  singmg'?  Behold 
a  man  hungry — he  needs  no  argument  to  induce 
him  to  eat.  See  that  mother—  she  needs  no  motive 
to  determine  her  to  cherish  her  darling  babe — 
nature  impels.  The  obedience  of  the  Christian  is, 
in  consequence  of  regeneiation,  nitural  ;  anu  hence 
it  is  pleasant  and  invariable  :  "He  runs  and  is  not 
weary,  lie  walks  and  is  not  faint." 

—Jay,  1769-1853. 

7.  Wisdom  in  the  use  of  the  law. 

(4124.)  There  is  in  a  renewed  understanding,  a 
principle  teaching  how  to  make  use  of  the  law.  It 
is  like  the  inward  skill  of  a  pilot,  who  guides  the 
ship  by  the  compass  and  rudder.  The  outward  law 
is  the  compass  by  which  we  must  steer  ;  the  inward 
law  is  the  practical  knowledge  of  this  ;  an  inward 
skill  to  make  application  of  it  to  particular  occasions. 
— Charttock,  i628-i6<io. 

IV.    SHOULD  BE  SOUGHT  EARLY. 

(4125.)  Deferring  the  seeking  after  this  new  birth 
till  more  years  grow  ui>on  you  is  a  mighty  folly. 
It  is  a  matter  ol  the  highest  concern,  the  greatest 
necessity,  in  compari-on  of  which  all  other  things 
are  but  toys  and  superfluities.  Is  it  not  folly  to 
prefer  superfluous  things  before  necessary?  Is  it 
not  a  madness  for  a  man  to  be  mending  the  mud 
wall  about  his  garden,  and  neglect  to  quench  the 
fire  which  has  got  hold  of  his  house?  You  are 
poisoned  in  your  nature,  you  have  plague  spots 
upon  your  hearts.  Would  it  not  be  ridiculous  for 
a  man  that  has  drunk  poison,  and  siiill  some  upon 
his  clothes,  to  be  more  careful  to  liave  the  stains 
fetched  out  of  his  garments  than  the  poison  out  of 
his  stomach?     You  are  carelul  about  the  concerns 


of  the  body  and  flesh  ;  oh  !  be  not  such  fools  as  to 
let  the  poison  within  get  the  greater  head,  and  the 
plague  continue  in  the  heart. 

— Charnock,  1628-1680. 

{4126.)  As  an  early  regeneration  makes  for  God's 
honour,  so  it  makes  for  your  own  interest.  Your 
new  birth  will  be  the  gentler.  The  work  of  con- 
science will  be  more  kindly,  without  the  horrors 
they  have  who  have  lain  many  years  soaking  in  the 
old  nature.  More  of  hell  must  be  flashed  in  an  old 
sinner's  face,  to  awaken  him  from  his  daad  sleep. 
Paul,  who  had  sinned  some  years  with  an  high  hand, 
was  struck  to  the  earth.  Christ,  as  it  were,  took 
him  by  the  throat,  and  shook  him  :  (Acts  ix.  6.) 
He  trembling  and  astonished,  said,  "  Lord,  whaC 
wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do?"  There  will  be  more 
amazing  aggravations  of  sin  to  reach  the  conscience, 
and  consequently  more  anguish.  Putrified  wounds 
require  more  lancing  ;  and  theiefore  are  more  pain- 
ful in  the  cure  than  those  which  are  but  newly  made. 
The  more  we  are  alienated  from  the  life  of  God,  the 
harder  it  will  be  to  return  to  live  that  life  again. 
The  farther  a  man  is  gone  out  of  his  road,  the 
longer  he  must  travel  to  come  in  again  ;  and  th« 
more  pains  he  must  take  in  running  or  riding,  than 
that  he  wandered  but  a  little  from  it. 

Char  nock,  1 628-1680. 

V.  IN  IVHAT  SENSE  IT  IS  INSTAN- 
TANEOUS. 

(4127.)  I  shall  show  what  regeneration  is  :  by 
which  it  will  plainly  appear,  thai  there  is  no  neces- 
sity that  it  should  be  effected  in  an  instant  and  at 
once,  but  that  it  will  admit  of  degrees.  1  do  not 
deny  that  it  may  be  in  an  instant  and  at  once.  The 
power  of  God  is  able  to  do  this,  and  sometimes  does 
it  very  thoroughly  and  very  suddenly.  But  the 
question  is  whether  there  be  a  necessity  it  should 
be  so  and  always  be  so.  Now  regeneration  is — the 
change  of  a  man's  state  from  a  state  of  sin  to  a  state 
of  holiness  ;  which,  because  it  is  an  entrance  upon 
a  new  kind  or  couiee  of  life,  is  fitly  resembled  to 
regeneration  or  a  new  birth  ;  to  a  new  creation  ; 
the  man  being,  as  it  were,  quite  changed,  or  made 
over  again,  so  as  not  to  be,  as  to  the  main  purpose 
and  design  of  his  life,  the  same  man  he  was  before. 
This  is  a  [jlain  sensible  account  of  the  thing,  which 
every  one  may  easily  understand.  Now  there  is 
nothing  in  reason  why  a  man  may  not  gradually  be 
changed,  and  arrive  at  this  state  by  degrees,  as  well 
as  alter  this  change  is  made,  and  he  arrived  at 
this  state  of  a  regenerate  man,  he  may  by  degrees 
grow  and  improve  in  it.  But  the  latter  no  man 
doubts  of,  but  that  a  man  tliat  is  in  a  state  of  grace 
may  grow  and  improve  in  grace  ;  and  there  is  as 
little  reason  to  question  why  a  man  may  not  come 
to  this  state  by  degrees,  as  well  as  leap  into  it  at 
once. 

All  the  difficulty  I  know  of  in  this  matter  is  i 
mere  nicety,  that  there  is  an  instant  in  which  eveiy 
tiling  begins,  and  therefore  regeneration  is  in  an  in- 
stant ;  so  that  the  instant  before  the  man  arrived  at 
this  state,  it  could  not  be  said  that  he  was  rege- 
nerate ;  and  the  instant  after  he  is  in  this  state,  it 
cannot  be  denied  that  he  is  so.  But  this  is  idle 
subtility,  just  as  if  a  man  should  prove  that  a  house 
was  built  in  an  instant,  because  it  could  not  be  said 
to  be  built  till  the  instant  it  was  finished,  though  for 
all  this,  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  it  was 
built  by  degrees.     Or,  suppose  the  time  of  arriving 


REGENERA  TION. 


(    695    ) 


RELIGION. 


at  man's  estate  be  at  one  and  twenty,  does  it  from 
hence  follow  that  a  man  does  not  grow  to  be  a  man 
by  degrees,  but  is  made  a  man  in  an  instant,  be- 
cause just  before  one  and  twenty  he  was  not  at 
man's  estate,  and  just  then  he  was.  Not  but  that 
God,  if  He  please,  can  make  a  man  in  an  instant, 
as  He  did  Adam  ;  but  it  is  not  necessary  from  tliis 
example,  tliat  all  men  should  be  made  so,  much  less 
does  it  follow  from  this  vain  subtility.  This  is  just 
the  case.  All  the  while  the  man  is  tending  towards 
a  regenerate  stale,  and  is  struggling  witli  his  lusts, 
till,  by  the  power  of  God's  grace  and  his  own  re- 
solution, he  get  the  victory  ;  all  the  while  he  is 
under  the  sense  and  conviction  of  his  sinful  and 
miseralile  state,  and  sorrowing  for  the  folly  of  his 
past  life,  and  coming  to  an  effectual  purpose  and 
resolution  of  changing  his  course ;  and,  it  may  be, 
several  times  thrown  bacU  by  the  temptations  of 
the  devil,  and  the  power  of  evil  habits,  and  the 
weakness  and  instability  of  his  own  purpose,  till  at 
last  by  the  grace  of  God  following  and  assisting  Him, 
he  comes  to  a  firm  resolution  of  a  better  life,  which 
resolution  governs  him  for  the  future  ;  I  say  all  this 
while,  which  in  some  persons  is  longer,  in  others 
shorter,  according  to  the  power  of  evil  habits  and 
the  dift'erent  degrees  of  God's  grace  afforded  to  men; 
all  this  time  the  work  of  regeneration  is  going  on  ; 
and  thougli  a  man  cannot  be  saiil  to  be  in  a  regene- 
rate state  tdl  that  very  instant  that  tiie  principle  of 
grace  and  his  good  resolution  have  got  the  upper 
hand  of  his  lusts,  yet  it  is  certain  for  all  this  that 
the  work  of  regeneration  was  not  effected  in  an 
instant.  — TUlotson,  1630-1694. 

(4128.)  Let  us  look  a  little  at  what  is  meant  by 
immediate  regeneration.  It  is  not  meant,  in  the 
lirst  place,  that  the  preparatory  steps,  which  consist 
in  the  infusion  of  knowledge,  and  in  all  those 
influences  which  go  to  form,  if  not  the  element, 
yei  the  vehicles,  ol  moral  power,  are  instantaneous. 
On  the  contrary,  experience  teaches — and  Scrii)ture 
corroborates  it — that  the  stale  of  preparation  for 
change  may  admii  of  any  amount  of  gradualness. 
A  man's  education  in  tiie  household  may  be  part 
of  a  work  which  has  its  final  solution  scores  of 
years  afterward.  A  man  tiiat  goes  from  wicked- 
ness into  a  congregation,  may  from  Sabbath  to 
Sabbath  attend  there,  and  may  lor  months  and  even 
years  be  undergoing  a  sort  of  preparatory  change. 
When  you  plant  peach-pips,  they  lie  all  winter  long, 
doing  what?  Unglueing  the  edges  of  the  contain- 
ing shell.  The  frost  and  the  moisture  are  preparing 
It  so  that  when  spring  comes,  the  germ  is  unlocked, 
and  allowed  to  swell  and  grow.  Here  has  been  a 
whole  six  months  in  which  there  was  a  constant  state 
of  preparation  for  the  germination  which  takes 
place  within  perhaps  a  day  or  two.  A  six  months' 
preparation  was  necessary  to  make  that  possible. 
There  may  be  a  long  series  of  ameliorations,  there 
may  be  the  wasting  of  prejudices,  there  may  be 
tlie  supplanting  of  ignorance  by  better  views,  there 
may  be  an  increase  of  sensibility  to  that  which  is 
right  and  noble,  tliere  may  be  a  greater  conformity 
of  conduct  to  right  rules  and  principles,  there 
may  be  an  infinite  number  of  minute  and  gradual 
unfolding  processes  ;  so  that  when  men  say,  "  That 
iTian  was  not  suddenly  converted  ;  I  have  seen  the 
work  preliminary  to  his  conversion  going  on  for 
two  or  three  years,  and  have  noticed  his  leaving  off 
one  habit  and  taking  on  another,  extricating  him- 
self from  one  set  of  influences,  and  giving  himself 


up  to  another  set  of  influences," — when  men  say 

this,  it  may  be  true.  But  that  does  not  touch  the 
moment  ol  change.  Preparations  may  be  gradual  ; 
but  all  changes  that  turn  upon  volition  must  be 
instantaneous. 

A  man  is  pondering  whether  he  will  transfer 
himself  from  the  east  to  one  of  the  newer  states. 
It  is  a  matter  of  thought  with  him  through  a  whole 
year.  It  is  uncertain  what  he  will  do.  He  reads, 
and  he  talks  with  all  returned  travellers  from  that 
state.  Tliere  is  a  growing  inclination  on  his  part 
to  go.  His  affairs  are  settled,  so  that  it  is  possible 
for  him  to  take  his  choice  between  going  and  stay- 
ing. And  yet,  he  is  not  determined  until  it  comes 
to  the  month,  to  the  week,  to  the  dny,  to  the  hour, 
to  the  minute,  when  he  must  make  up  his  mind. 
There  was  a  second,  when  the  man  came  to  a 
decision  and  said,  "I  will  go!"  He  was  years, 
it  may  be,  preparing  ;  but  when  the  thing  was  done, 
it  was  done  instantaneously. 

You  are  travelling  in  a  given  direction,  and  you 
at  first  have  a  faint  perplexing  feeling,  "  I  ani 
afraid  I  have  ihe  wrong  road  ;"  but  you  travel  on, 
and  the  feeling  grows  on  you,  and  evidences  increase, 
and  you  walk  slower,  and  are  more  irresolute,  till 
by  and  by  the  conviction  flashes  on  you,  "  I  am 
wrong  !  "  and  you  turn  about  and  go  the  other  way 
There  is  an  instant  in  which  you  stop,  although  i' 
may  be  preceded  by  hours  of  thought,  and  a  grow- 
ing tendency  to  change ;  and  when  a  man  changes 
from  going  in  a  wrong  direction  to  going  in  a  right, 
there  is  an  instant  in  which  he  turns. 

And  so  it  is  in  moral  things.  A  man  may  have 
been  undergoing  moral  ameliorations  and  tendencies, 
and  obstacles  may  be  removed  on  the  one  side  and 
the  other,  but  when  at  last  the  preparations  that  he 
has  gone  through  become  operative,  there  is  a 
decisive  moment.  And  when  a  man  changes  from 
the  power  of  supreme  selfishness  to  the  power  of 
Bupreme  love,  from  the  service  <>f  the  world  to  the 
service  of  God,  the  change  is  instantaneous,  though 
the  causes  leading  to  it  are  gradual. 

— Beechtr. 


RELIGION. 

I.  IS  A  NECESSITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 

(4129.)  No  man  can  be  without  his  god;  if  he 
have  not  the  true  God,  to  bless  and  sustain  him,  he 
will  have  some  false  god,  to  delude  and  to  betray 
him.  The  Psalmist  knew  this,  and  therefore  he 
joined  so  closely  the  forgetting  the  name  of  our 
God,  and  holding  up  our  hands  to  some  strange 
god.  For  every  man  has  something  in  which  he 
hopes,  on  which  he  leans,  to  which  he  retreats  and 
retires,  with  which  he  fills  up  his  thought  in  empty 
spaces  of  time ;  when  he  is  alone,  when  he  lies 
sleepless  on  his  bed,  when  he  is  not  pressed  with 
other  thoughts  ;  to  which  he  betakes  himself  in  sor- 
row or  trouble,  as  that  from  which  he  shall  draw 
comfort  and  strength, — his  fortress,  his  citadel,  his 
defence  ;  and  has  not  this  good  right  to  be  called 
his  god  ?  Man  was  made  to  lean  on  the  Creator  ; 
but  if  not  on  Him,  then  he  leans  on  the  creature 
in  one  shape  or  another.  The  ivy  cannot  grow 
alone;  it  must  twine  round  some  support  or  other  ; 
if  not  the  goodly  oak,  then  the  raLjged  thorn  ;  round 
any  dead  stick  whatever,  rather  than  have  no  stay 
or  support  at  all.     It  is  even  sO  with  the  heart  and 


RELIGION. 


{    696    ) 


RELIGION. 


ttfTections  of  man  ;  if  they  do  not  twine  around  God, 
they  must  twine  around  some  meaner  thing. 

— French. 

(4130.)  "These  troublesome  vines,"  exclaims 
the  vintner,  "  why  can  tliey  not  grow  upright  like 
bushes?"  And  one  man  comes  to  him  and  says, 
"  It  is  all  because  you  have  tied  tliem  to  oak  stakes. 
If  you  will  get  cedar  stakes  you  will  have  no  diffi- 
culty." The  vintner  goes  to  the  forest  for  cedar 
stakes,  but  still  the  vines  creep  and  cling.  Another 
man  says,  "  Cedar  stakes  are  not  good  ;  you  must 
have  hickory  ;"  and  he  gets  hickory,  but  the  vines 
clasp  them  also.  Another  man  says,  "It  is  not 
hickory,  but  chestnut  stakes  that  you  need  ;"  and  so 
he  gets  chestnut  stakes,  but  it  is  all  the  same  to 
the  vines.  At  length  there  comes  a  man  who  says, 
"Your  course  is  wrong  from  beginning  to  end.  If 
you  will  throw  away  all  your  stakes,  and  stop  your 
training,  and  leave  the  vines  to  nature,  you  will 
have  none  of  these  clambering,  wild-roaming,  em- 
bracing ways."  So  the  vintner  pulls  up  the  stakes, 
and  clears  the  piles  of  timber  from  the  ground,  and 
leaves  the  vines  unpropped.  And  now  do  they 
grow  upright,  and  cease  to  throw  out  tendrils  and 
clasping  rings?  No.  It  is  their  nature  to  cling  to 
something  ;  and  if  you  will  not  give  them  help  to 
climb  ujjward,  tiiey  will  not  on  that  account  cease 
to  reach  out,  but  will  spread  all  over  the  ground, 
clasping  cold  stones,  and  embracing  every  worthless 
stick,  and  the  very  grass. 

Now  our  religious  nature,  like  the  vine,  must 
nave  something  to  cling  to;  and  one  man  says, 
"The  Brahminical  system  is  as  good  as  the  Chris- 
tian ;"  another  says,  "The  old  Gieek  mythology  is 
better  than  either  ; "  and  another  says,  "  Catholicism 
is  preferable  to  the  Protestant  form  of  Christi- 
anity ;''  and  then  comes  a  man  who  declares  that 
all  systems  are  extraneous  and  hurtful,  and  that  if 
we  were  left  to  grow  up  unprejudiced,  with  the  light 
and  laws  of  nature,  such  a  thing  as  a  religious  sys- 
tem would  never  be  known  nor  needed.  "First," 
he  says,  "the  nurse  be  oois  the  child,  and  then  the 
.mother  takes  him,  and  then  the  priest  and  the 
Church  ;  and  so  he  is  educated  to  false  views  from 
the  begiimmg."  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  this: 
religious  systems  do  not  cieate  the  religious  nature 
in  man.  The  religious  nature  itself,  craving  and 
longing  for  development,  creates  both  the  systems 
and  the  priests  who  minister  in  them.  The  heart, 
with  its  thousand  tendrils,  reaches  forth  to  God, 
and  in  its  reaching  clasps  whatever  it  may. 

A  student,  annoyed  by  the  notes  of  the  canary- 
bird  in  his  window,  says,  "It  is  the  robin  in  the 
opposite  cage  that  makes  the  canary  sing,"  and  so 
he  takes  the  robin  away  ;  but  still  the  song  goes  on. 
It  was  not  its  companion  that  made  it  call,  but 
something  yearning  out  of  its  own  little  bosom  ; 
and  becau?e  of  this  yearning,  whether  alone  or  with 
its  mates,  in  summer  or  winter,  in  light  or  darkness, 
it  still  will  sing.  So  the  heart  yearns  and  calls  for 
God  ;  not  because  of  outward  solicitation,  but  be- 
cause of  the  longing,  the  want  it  feels  within.  No 
difference  of  teachers  or  systems  can  change  this 
nature  of  the  soul.  The  ocean  is  the  same,  what- 
ever craft  sail  up  and  down  upon  it,  whether  they 
be  pleasure-boats,  brigs,  merchant-ships,  pirates,  or 
men-of-war  ;  so  whatever  religious  navigators  may 
be  going  up  and  down  the  sea  of  lile,  its  depths, 
ttnd  shores,  and  distant  h^veii  remain  the  same. 
The  stars  never  chaa^e  for  asfi  -.lotfers  or  astrono- 


mers.    They  roll  calmly  above  storms  and  above 

opinions.  So  man's  nature  does  not  vary  for  cir- 
cumstances, or  conflicting  views,  but  still  wants 
God  above,  and  fellow-man  below. 

However  various  our  wants  may  seem,  what  we 
all  need  is  God.  He  ha--  given  us  the  earth  for  our 
body,  but  He  Himself  is  tlie  soil  in  which  our  souls 
must  root  ;  the  eternal  help,  the  source  of  succour 
and  all  su]5ply,  the  bread  of  life,  and  the  water  of 
life.  Feeding  upon  Him,  we  shall  hungei  no  more, 
neither  thirst  any  more,  but  be  saiished. 

— Beecher, 

II.     TRUE   RELIGION — IN    WHAT   IT  CON- 
SISTS. 
1.  Not  in  outward  observances. 

(4131.)  Outward  observances,  indispensable  as 
they  are,  are  not  relij;ion  ;  they  are  its  aliiiieni, 
but  not  its  life  :  the  fuel,  but  not  the  flame  ;  the 
scaffolding,  but  not  the  edifice.  — Salter, 

(4132.)  It  is  not  by  enthroning  religion  on  Sun- 
day in  the  sanctuary  ;  but  it  is  by  bringing  religion 
into  the  counting-liouse,  the  exchange,  and  the 
market,  that  we  really  honour  her.  It  is  nut  by 
studied  service,  by  early  matins,  by  twilight  vespers, 
by  chimes  of  holy  bells  that  summon  us  three  times 
a  day  to  come  to  worship,  that  we  do  homage  to 
Christ.  True,  such  is  thought  religion  ;  in  Rome 
it  is  pronounced  so  ;  by  the  imitators  of  Rome  it  is 
felt  that  you  may  spend  the  evening  in  the  opera,  if 
only  an  hour  before  you  come  to  vespers  ;  and  that 
in  the  morning,  you  may  do  anything  you  like, 
provided  you  have  come  only  first  to  matins  :  if  you 
attend  to  religion  in  conseciated  places,  in  canonical 
hours,  that  is  being  religious  ;  and  as  for  the  intervals 
between,  you  may  follow  the  lust  of  the  eye,  the 
pride  of  life,  and  the  love  of  this  present  world. 
Now  it  seems  to  me  that  to  be  truly  religious  is  not 
to  go  to  matins,  nor  to  vespers,  nor  to  go  to  church 
on  Sunday  (though  this  last  is  right  and  dutiful)  ; 
but  it  is  to  bring  the  motives,  the  hopes,  the  pre- 
cepts, the  spirit  of  religion  into  all  our  walks  and 
ways  in  the  world,  till  our  whole  life  become* 
religious.  — Cumtning. 

(4133.)  A  religion  that  does  not  take  hold  of  the 
life  that  now  is,  is  like  a  cloud  that  does  not  rain. 
A  cloud  may  roll  in  grandeur,  and  be  an  object  of 
admiration,  but  if  it  does  not  rain,  it  is  of  little 
account  so  far  as  utility  is  concerned.  And  a 
religion  that  consists  in  the  observance  of  mag- 
nificent ceremonies,  but  that  does  not  touch  the 
duties  of  daily  life,  is  a  religion  of  show  and  of 
sham,  — Beecher. 

(4134.)  The  spiritual  life  is  closely  connected 
with  ordinances,  aciions,  and  activities, — but  it  no 
more  stands  in  these  things,  —  it  is  no  more  ordinance, 
or  action,  or  activity — than  the  life  of  a  tree  is  the 
fruit  of  the  tree,  or  the  means  Ubcd  for  cultivating 
the  tree. 

(I.)  //  does  not  consist  in  ordinances,  many  or 
few.  These  are  means  in  God's  hand,  of  kindhng 
the  spiritual  life  in  the  soul  of  man,  or  ncccans  of 
feeding  the  flame  when  kindled  ;  but  they  are  not 
the  flame  itself,  they  are  not  the  life.  It  may  be 
veiy  necessary  for  a  fruit-tiee,  in  order  to  its  bear- 
ing fruit,  that  its  roots  should  be  stirred  with  the 
spade,   overlaid  with  the  manure,  nr.oistened  with 


RELIGION. 


(    697    ) 


RELIGION. 


tlie  watering-pot  ;  but  nothing  can  be  clearer  than 
that  the  spatle,  the  manure,  and  tlie  watering-pot 
are  distinct  things  from  tlie  life  of  the  tree.  Yet 
so  apt  are  we  (at  least  in  sjnritual  subjects)  to  con- 
found means  with  ends,  and  to  erect  the  means  into 
an  end,  that  even  religious  people  often  find  it  hard 
to  conceive  of  a  devout  life  in  the  absence  of  an 
apparatus  of  ordinances  ;  whereas  it  is  quite  clear 
tliat  such  might  exist  whefe,  for  some  reason  or 
oiher,  the  ordinances  could  not  be  had  ;  in 
which  case  God,  who  is  independent  of  ordinances, 
would  no  doubt  supply  their  virtue  immediately  to 
the  soul. 

(2. )  The  spiritttal  life  does  not  consist  in  actions. 
The  actions  are  the  result,  tlie  fruit,  but  they  are 
not  the  life  of  the  iree.  Yet  how  frequently,  in  the 
popular  estimate  of  the  subject,  are  the  two  con- 
founded. —  Gottibiirn. 

(4135.)  We  need  to  draw  the  distinction  more 
broadly  betweefl  religion  and  the  instruments  of 
religion — its  institutions,  its  doctrinal  forms,  and 
its  modes  of  worship.  For  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  the  popular  mind  scarcely  discriminates  between 
the  instruments  of  religion  and  the  thing  itself.  In 
husbandry,  no  man  ever  says  that  hoes,  and  ploughs, 
and  harrows,  and  harnesses,  are  very  precious  for  food. 
The  veriest  boor  knows  that  these  are  simply  the 
instruments  by  which  we  procure  food  from  the  soil. 
But  there  are  thousands  of  men  that  are  neither 
boors  nor  clowns  who  look  upon  churches,  and  days, 
and  books,  and  doctrines,  and  ministers — the  things 
which  are  the  mere  tools  of  spiritual  husbandry — 
as  a  very  part  of  religion  itself.  They  are  not 
religion.  They  may  be  the  physical  instruments 
by  which  you  seek  to  excite  and  educe  a  religious 
life.  But  religion  is  the  product  of  the  soul.  It  is 
a  vital  mental  state.  A  music-book  is  not  a  tune, 
though  it  may  carry  that  which  represents  a  tune, 
and  may  be  essential  to  the  production  of  music. 
And  ministers,  and  doctrines,  and  books,  and  days, 
and  churches,  though  they  iiave  an  important  rela- 
tion to  the  production  of  religion,  are  not  religion. 
Religion  is  brain-work,  antl  soul-work.  It  is  a 
living  power  in  the  individual  man. 

— Beecher. 

2.  Not  In  fluent  speech  concerning  sacred  thing-s. 

(4136.)  To  talk  about  religion,  ministers  and  ser- 
mons, missions  and  missionaries,  religious  sciiemes 
and  books,  revivalists  and  revivals,  is  not  religion. 
Some  have  been  the  most  fluent  talkers  about  these 
things  who  feel  them  least.  Shallow  rivers  are 
commonly  noisy  rivers  ;  and  the  drum  is  loud  be- 
rause  it  is  hollow.  Fluency  and  feeling  don't  always 
go  together.  On  the  contrary,  some  men  are  most 
sparing  of  speech  when  their  feelings  are  most  deeply 
engaged.  1  have  been  told  that  there  is  an  awful 
silence  in  the  ranks  before  the  first  gun  is  fired,  and 
little  talking  heard  during  the  dreadkil  progress  of 
the  battle,  or  sound,  save  the  roar  of  cannon,  the 
cries  of  wounded,  the  shouts  of  attack,  the  bursts  of 
musketry,  and  bugles  sounding  the  charge.  And 
I  have  also  heaid  men  say,  that  when  the  ship  is 
labouring  for  her  life,  and  every  moment  may  decide 
her  fate,  and  wliether  she  shall  clear  reef  or  head- 
land hangs  in  anxious  suspense,  there  is  no  talking  ; 
nothing  is  heard  amid  the  roaring  of  the  storm  but 
the  voice  of  officers,  as  they  shout  their  orders — to 
cut  away  the  mast — let  go  the  sads — or  put  the  helm 
hard  a-pcrt.     Deep  passions,  like  deep  waters,  often 


run  silently  ;  and  men  in  earnest  are  more  jjivtn  to 

act  than  to  talk.  True,  out  of  the  fulnesi  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speakeih  ;  still,  the  fuller  the  heart 
is,  the  less  fluent  sometimes  is  the  speech.  There 
are  things  too  deep  for  utterance.  Strong  gratitude, 
deep  love,  are  not  fluent,  nor  is  intense  anxiety. 
The  sight  of  her  chikl  wrapped  in  flames,  or  totter- 
ing on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  h.is  paralysed  its 
mother  ;  rooted  to  the  ground,  she  has  gazed  in 
speechless  horror,  unable  to  raise  a  shriek,  or  move 
a  foot  to  save  it. 

Besides,  owing,  perhaps,  to  constitutional  peculi- 
arities, the  religion  of  some  has  its  most  perfect 
emblem  in  Christ's  own  words,  "  Ye  are  tiie  light  of 
the  world."  It  is  a  thing  seen  ;  not  heard,  it  shines, 
but  it  makes  no  sound  ;  not  often  found  on  their 
lips,  but  always  in  their  lives.  — Guthrie. 

3.  Not  in  unpractical  meditations  on  spiritual 

tbings. 

(4137.)  We  have  greater  work  to  do  here  than 
merely  securing  our  own  salvation.  We  are  members 
of  the  world  and  Church,  and  wc  must  labour  to  do 
good  to  many.  We  are  trusted  with  our  Master's 
talents  for  His  service,  in  our  places  to  do  our  best 
to  propagate  His  truth,  and  grace,  and  Church, 
and  to  bring  home  souls,  and  honour  His  cause,  and 
edify  His  flock,  and  further  thesalvation  of  as  many 
as  we  can.  All  this  is  to  be  done  on  earth,  if  we 
will  secure  the  end  of  all  in  heaven. 

It  is  then,  an  error,  though  it  is  but  few,  I  think, 
that  are  guilty  of  it,  to  tliink  that  all  reliL;ioii  lieih  in 
minding  only  the  life  to  come,  and  disregarding  all 
things  in  this  present  life  ;  all  true  Christians  must 
seriously  mind  both  the  end  and  the  means  or  way. 
If  th'ey  mind  not,  believingly,  the  end,  they  will 
never  be  faithful  in  the  use  of  means.  If  they  mind 
not,  and  use  not,  diligently,  the  means,  they  will 
never  obtain  the  end.  None  can  use  earth  well 
that  prefer  not  heaven,  and  none  come  to  heaven, 
at  age,  that  are  not  prepared  by  well  using  earth. 
Heaven  must  have  tlie  deepest  esteem,  and  habitu- 
ated love  and  desire  and  joy  ;  but  earth  must  have 
more  of  our  daily  thoughts  lor  present  practice.  A 
man  that  travelleth  to  the  most  desirable  home,  hath 
a  habit  of  desire  to  it  all  the  way,  but  his  present 
business  is  his  travel ;  and  horse,  ami  company,  and 
inns,  and  ways,  and  weariness,  &c. ,  may  take  up 
more  of  his  sensible  thoughts,  and  of  his  talk  and 
action,  than  his  home.         — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4138.)  Any  such  thought  of  the  things  unseen 
and  eternal  as  shall  unfit  a  man  for  his  daily  secular 
duties,  or  teach  him  to  despise  them,  is  wrong 
thought,  and  should  be  discartled.  Religion  under- 
lies all  things.  It  is  intended  to  fit  a  man  for  life — 
to  teach  him  how  to  carry  liimself  in  his  business, 
his  pleasures,  and  his  pains,  as  much  as  to  aid  him 
when  he  dies.  It  was  not  meant  to  lift  him  out  of, 
or  beyond,  the  common  work  or  wants  of  life  until 
life  is  passed.  — Beecher. 

(4139.)  The  men  who  walk  in  lonely  places 
thinking  only  of  God  and  the  angels,  are  not  the 
most  reliable  Christians,  are  not  the  bone  and  sinew 
of  the  Church.  This  has  been  proved  throughout 
the  ages.  — Beecher. 

4.  Not  In  a  confident  assurance  of  our  personal 
safety. 

(4140.)  Some  men  think  of  religion  as  if  it  were, 
on  the  whole,  simply  a  title  10  heaven.     Tbey  love 


RELIGION, 


K    698    ) 


RELIGION. 


the  hymn,  *'  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear."  They 
understand  deeds,  and  titles,  and  conveyances. 
Their  heavenly  title  seems  to  them,  in  the  earlier 
part  of  their  religious  experience,  to  be  disputed. 
It  is  as  if  the  devil  were  some  sneaking  man  seeking 
\Q  invalidate  their  title  to  their  property.  They  go 
into  court,  invalidate  the  claim  of  tlieir  adversary, 
auJ  estahlish  their  own.  That  is  to  say,  they  are 
awakened,  convicted,  and  converted.  And  now 
they  say,  "  I  have  a  title  to  heaven."  It  is  as  if  a 
man  had  a  large  estate  which  he  was  carrying  on  in 
a  certain  way,  and  for  which  there  had  risen  up  a 
claimant,  and  he  went  before  the  tribunals,  and  there 
contested  his  right,  and  got  a  verdict  in  his  favour, 
and  then  returned  home,  and  lived  o'n  the  estate  as 
before,  without  repairing  tlie  fences,  without  better 
tilling  it,  without  buikling  new  mansions  upon  it, 
but  allowing  it  to  remain  the  same  old  thistle-grown 
estate  tiiat  it  was  before  ;  the  only  change  being 
that  his  title  to  it  is  confirmed,  so  that  he  can  say, 
"  I  own  it."  There  are  a  great  many  men  to  whom 
religion  seems  to  be  simply  the  authentication  of 
their  title  to  heaven.  When  they  think  they  have 
obtained  it,  they  say  to  themselves,  "  Now,  what- 
ever may  befall  the  world," — while  they  have  a 
heritage,  perhaps  of  brimstone  and  fire, — "I  am 
called,  elected,  sealed,  and  adopted.  I  am  going 
to  heaven  !  "  But  their  life  remains  the  same  as 
before.  They  are  no  belter,  no  more  honourable, 
no  more  truthful,  no  more  spiritual,  no  more  devout, 
no  more  holy.  — BeecJur. 

6.  Not  in  a  mere  prudential  morality. 

(4141.)  Religion  in  most  countries — more  or  less 
in  every  country — is  no  longer  what  it  was,  and 
should  be, — a  thousand-voiced  psalm  from  the  heart 
of  man  to  his  invisible  Father,  the  fountain  of  all 
goodness,  beauty,  truth,  and  revealed  in  every 
revelation  of  these  ;  but  for  the  most  part  a  wise, 
prudential  feeling,  grounded  on  mere  calculation  ; 
a  matter,  as  all  others  now  are,  of  expediency  and 
utility  ;  whereby  some  smaller  quantum  of  earthly 
enjoyment  may  be  exchanged  for  a  far  larger 
-juantum  of  celestial  enjoyment.  Thus  religion,  loo, 
is  profit,  a  working  for  wages  ;  not  reverence,  but 
vulgar  hope  or  fear.  Many,  we  know — very 
many,  we  hope — are  still  religious  in  a  far  different 
sense  ;  were  it  not  so,  our  case  were  too  desperate  ; 
but  to  witness  that  such  is  the  temper  of  the  times, 
we  take  any  calm  observant  man,  who  agrees  or 
disagrees  in  our  feeling  on  the  matter,  and  ask  him 
whether  our  view  of  it  is  not  in  general  well  founded. 

— Carlyle. 

6.  Not  merely  in  the  performance  of  acts  of 
benevolence. 

(4142.)  To  visit  the  fatherless  and  widows  in 
their  affliction,  and  keep  one's  garments  unspotted 
from  the  world,  under  the  influence  of  the  holiest 
motives  and  with  a  view  to  the  highest  ends,  though 
here  called  pure  and  undefiled  religion  before  God 
and  the  Father,  is  not  the  sum  total  of  true  reli- 
gion. These  are  but  samples  of  the  stock — the  small 
segments  of  a  large  cucle.  Here,  as  elsewhere  in 
Sciipture,  a  part,  or  parts,  is  put  for  the  whole; 
and  these  two  are  selectt-d  for  this,  among  other 
reasons,  that  they  are  chaiacteristic  and  most  impor- 
tant;  not  secondary,  but  primary;  not  accidental, 
but  essential  features  o(  all  true  religion.  To  make 
this  plainer,  it  is  as  if  1  described  a  living  man  by 
saying,  he  bTrt  hes.     But  he  does  many  things  else. 


He  sees  and  hears  ;  he  walks  and  talks  ;  he  thirsts 
and  hungers — and  a  hundred  things  besides.  Still, 
unless  he  breathes,  he  is  not  alive,  but  dead  ;  and 
dead  is  the  religion  that  does  not  aim  at  these  two 
thinijs,  personal  purity  and  active  charity  ;  in  other 
words,  doing  good  and  being  good. 

— Guthrie. 

7.  But  in  a  right  government  of  the  soul. 

(4143.)  The  religion  of  heaven,  being  full  of  holy 
love  and  joy,  consists  very  much  in  affection  :  and 
tlierefore,  undoubtedly,  true  religion  consists  very 
much  in  affection.  The  way  to  learn  the  true  nature 
of  anything,  is  to  go  where  that  tiling  is  to  be 
found  in  its  purity  and  perfection.  If  we  would 
know  the  true  nature  of  gukl  we  must  view  it,  not 
in  the  ore,  but  when  it  is  refined.  If  we  would 
learn  what  true  religion  is,  we  must  go  where  there 
is  true  religion,  and  nothing  but  true  religion,  and 
in  its  highest  perlection,  without  any  delect  or  mix- 
ture. — -Jofiathan  Edwards,  1703- 1 758. 

(4144.)  Some  men  think  that  religion  is  a  mere 
ecstatic  experience,  like  a  tune  rarely  played  upon 
some  faculty ;  living  only  while  it  is  being  pei- 
formed,  and  then  dying  in  silence.  And,  indeed, 
many  men  carry  their  religion  as  a  church  carries 
its  bell — high  up  in  a  bellry,  to  ring  out  on  sacred 
days,  to  strike  for  funerals,  or  to  chime  for  weddings. 
All  the  rest  of  the  time  it  hangs  above  reach — voice- 
less, silent,  dead.  But  religion  is  not  the  speciality 
of  any  one  feeling,  but  the  mood  and  harmony  of 
the  whole  of  them.  It  is  the  whole  soul  marching 
heavenward  to  the  music  oljoy  and  love,  with  well- 
ranked  faculties,  every  one  of  them  beating  time 
and  keeping  tune. 

The  religious  life  is  thoughtful,  but  thought  is 
not  alone  its  nature.  It  is  lull  of  affection,  but  it 
has  more  than  mere  feeling  ;  it  abounds  in  grand 
moral  impulses.  Effervescent  experiences  are  not 
its  characteristic.  It  is  the  soul  ol  a  man  made  won- 
drously  rich,  moving  to  the  touch  of  Divine  influ- 
ence, in  every  way  to  which  so  facile  and  elaborate 
a  creature  as  man  can  move.  There  is  no  end  to 
its  combinations.  It  shapes  itself  beyond  all  enu- 
meration of  shapes.  It  thinks  in  vast  and  fathom- 
less streams.  It  wills  with  all  attitudes  of  authority 
and  decision.  It  feels  with  ail  moods  and  variations 
of  social  affection.  It  rises  by  the  wings  of  faith, 
into  the  invisible,  and  fashions  for  itself  a  life  there, 
glowing  with  every  imaginable  ecstasy.  And  neither 
one  of  these  is  religion  more  than  another.  It  is 
the  whole  soul's  life  that  is  religion.  When  the  sun 
rose  on  Memnon,  it  was  fabled  to  have  uttered 
melodious  noises;  biit  what  were  the  rude  twang- 
ings  of  that  huge  grotesque  statue,  compared  with 
the  soul's  response  when  God  rises  upcjn  it,  and 
every  part,  like  a  vibrating  chord,  sounds  forth,  to 
His  touch,  its  joy  and  worship?  — Beecher. 

(4145.)  There  are  a  great  many  persons  who 
think,  "I  must  take  care  of  my  religion."  They 
have  got  something  that  they  call  religion  which 
they  conceive  needs  to  be  guarded.  Just  if  I  should 
say,  "I  must  take  care  ot  my  health,"  and  should 
yet  neglect  my  body,  so  that  my  nerves  were  out  of 
order,  and  my  heart  was  out  of  right  beat,  thinking 
that  I  had  something  distinct  from  the  body,  which 
was  health  ;  whereas  health  means  a  body  acting 
right  in  every  one  of  its  parts  1  And  religion  is 
to  the  soul   what  health  is  to  the  body — it  is  tha 


RELIGION. 


(    699    ) 


RELIGION, 


right  ordering  of  all  the  faculties.  Many  persons 
think  it  is  confined  to  certain  faculties,  which  must 
be  set  buzzing  at  particular  times.  They  treat  it 
very  much  as  a  boy  would  a  caged  bird.  They  keep 
their  religion  at  home  all  the  week,  and  on  Sunday 
the}  go  and  slip  it  into  the  cage,  and  let  it  sing  ; 
but  its  voice  is  hushed  the  moment  they  take  it  out. 

— Beccher. 

8.  In  doing  secular  work  from  sacred  motives. 

(4146.)  To  be  conversant  in  holy  duties  is  indeed 
more  sweet  to  a  man's  self,  and  is  a  heaven  upon 
earth  ;  but  to  be  conversant  in  our  calling  is  more 
profitable  to  others — to  the  Church,  the  common- 
wealth, or  the  family — and  so  may  glorify  God 
more  (Phil.  i.  24).  "  More  fruit  "  is  brought  forth 
when  both  are  joined  and  wisely  subordinated,  so 
as  the  one  is  not  a  hindrance  to  the  other.  'Ihough 
the  child,  out  of  love  to  iiis  mother  anrt  the  sweet- 
ness he  iias  in  her  com])any,  could  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  stay  all  day  at  home  to  look  on  her,  yet  it 
pleases  her  more  for  him  to  go  to  school  all  day, 
and  at  night  to  come  home  and  be  with  her,  and 
play  with  her;  and  she  then  kisses  him  and  makes 
much  of  him.  — Goodwin,  1 600-1 679. 

(4147.)  It  is  a  grand  mistake  in  the  world  to 
think  that  you  can  only  be  religious  when  engaged 
in  religious  work.  That  is  not  true.  You  are 
religious  when  you  are  building,  or  ploughing,  or 
sowing,  or  reaping.  If  anything  were  to  go  wrong, 
or  any  temptiiiicjn  urged  to  do  wrong,  you  would 
fall  back  upon  the  grand  governing  motive,  "  Serve 
the  Lord  Christ  :  "  but  lor  the  time  you  are  engaged 
vholly  in  the  work  ;  and  it  is  not  irreligious  to  do 
it  with  all  your  might,  when  the  motive  for  which 
you  do  it,  and  the  end  to  which  you  do  it,  is  a 
Divine  one.  It  is  not  true  that  doing  religious 
vork  is  necessarily  being  religious.  A  man  may 
spend  twelve  hours  every  day  in  building  a  church, 
and  may  be  an  absolute  heathen  or  atheist.  Another 
man  may  spend  sixteen  hours  a  day  in  building  a 
warehouse,  and  may  be  doing  a  most  holy  and 
religious  work.  It  is  not  the  work  tiiat  makes  the 
workman  holy,  but  it  is  the  workman  s  heart  that 
consecrates  the  toil,  and  makes  all  he  does  to  be 
serv.ng  the  Lord  Christ.  — Gumming. 

9.  In  a  faithful  discharge  of  our  duties  toward 
botli  God  and  maji. 

(4148.)  As  the  boat  cannot  move  rightly  when 
the  oars  only  on  one  side  are  plied  ;  or  as  the  fowl, 
if  she  use  only  one  wing,  cannot  fly  up  :  so  religion 
consisteth  of  duties  to  be  performed,  some  to  Cod 
and  some  to  man — some  for  the  first  table  of  the 
law,  some  for  the  second  ;  otherw  ise  that  religion 
will  never  profit  that  hath  one  hand  wrapped  up 
that  should  be  towards  man  in  all  offices  ol  charity, 
though  the  other  be  used  towards  God  in  all  offices 
of  piety.  — Gregory  the  Great,  545-604. 

(4149.)  Herein  is  religion  best  seen,  in  an  equal 
and  uniform  practice  of  every  part  of  our  duty  ;  not 
cnly  in  serving  God  devoutly,  but  in  demeaning 
ourselves  pe.aceably  and  justly,  kindly  and  ciiaritably 
towards  ali  men,  not  only  in  restraining  ourselves 
from  the  outward  act  of  sin,  but  in  mortifying  the 
inward  inclination  to  it,  in  subduing  our  lusts,  and 
governing  our  passions,  and  bridling  our  tongues. 
As  he  that  woui  i  have  a  prudent  care  of  his  health 
and  life  must  rot  only  guard  hiir  v^lf  against  the 


chief  and  common  diseases  which  are  incident  to 
men,  and  take  care  to  prevent  them,  but  murt  like- 
wise be  careful  to  preserve  himself  from  those  that 
are  esteemed  less  dangerous,  but  yet  sometimes  do 
prove  mortal  ;  he  must  not  only  endeavour  to  secure 
his  head  and  heart  from  being  wounded,  but  must 
have  a  tender  care  of  every  part,  there  being  hardly 
any  disease  or  wound  so  slight  but  that  some  have 
died  of  it.  In  like  manner  the  care  of  our  souls 
consists  in  a  universal  regard  to  our  duty,  and  that 
we  be  defective  in  no  part  of  it  ;  though  we  ought 
to  have  a  more  especial  regard  to  those  duties  which 
are  more  considerable,  and  wherein  relii;ion  doth 
mainly  consist,  as  piety  towards  God,  temperance 
and  chastity  in  regard  of  ourselves,  charity  towards 
the  poor,  truth  and  justice,  goodness  and  kindness 
towards  all  men  ;  but  then  no  other  grace  and  virtue, 
though  of  an  inferior  rank,  ought  to  be  neglected  by 
us.  — TiUotson,  1 630-1694. 

10.  In  likeness  to  God. 

(4150.)  "Be  ye  followers  of  God  as  dear  children." 
The  abstract  of  religion  is  to  imitate  Him  whom 
thou  dost  worship.  Such  an  one  hath  done  me 
insufferable  wrung,  how  can  I  forgive  him  ?  God 
would.  Another  is  gotten  into  my  debt,  and  abuseth 
my  patience,  how  can  1  forbear  him  ?  God  would. 
Be  thou  a  fuUuwer  of  God  in  grace,  that  thou  mayest 
ascend  to  His  glory.  A  man  is  travelling  to  this 
city,  at  least  in  his  own  ojiinion  he  thinks  so,  and 
tells  all  he  meets  that  he  is  going  to  London  ;  yet 
still  he  keeps  his  back  upon  it,  and  bends  his  course 
the  contrary  way.  So  ridiculous  a  thing  is  it  for 
men  to  profess  that  tney  are  going  to  heaven  when 
their  whole  life  is  directly  forwarding  themselves  to 
helL  — Adams,  1653. 

(4151.)  'Wk^  first  act  of  religion  is  to  know  what 
is  true  of  God,  the  second  act  is  to  express  it  in  our 
lives.  — VVhichcote,  1610-1683. 

(4152.)  The  best  way  to  find  out  what  is  religion 
in  us,  is  to  inquire  what  is  true  concerning  God  : 
for  religion  in  us  is  our  resemblance  of  God,  who 
is  ever  best  pleased  with  those  things  in  His  creatures 
which  are  most  eminent  in  Himself. 

—  W hie  heat  e,  1610-1683. 

(4153.)  To  be  godly  is  to  be  godlike.  The  full 
accord  of  all  the  soul  with  His  character,  in  whom, 
as  their  native  home,  dwell  "whatsoever  things  are 
pure,  wliai soever  things  are  loveiy,"  and  the  full 
conformity  of  the  will  to  His  sovereign  will  who  is 
the  life  of  our  lives  — this,  and  nothing  shallower, 
nothing  narrower,  is  religion  in  its  perfection,  and 
the  measure  in  which  we  have  attained  to  this 
harmony  with  God  is  the  measure  in  which  we  are 
Christians.  As  two  stringed  instruments  may  be  so 
tuned  to  one  keynote  that  if  you  strike  the  one,  a 
faint  ethereal  echo  is  heard  from  the  other,  which 
blends  uiulistinguishably  with  its  ]iarent  sound  ;  so 
drawing  near  to  God,  and  brought  into  unison  wilU 
His  mind  and  wid,  our  responsive  spirits  vibrate  in 
accord  with  His,  and  give  forth  tones,  low  and  thin 
indeed,  but  still  repeating  the  mighty  music  of 
heaven.  — Maclaren, 

(4154.)  By  religion  I  mean  perfected  manhood, — 
the  quickening  of  the  soul  by  the  influence  of  the 
Pivine  Spirit.  — Beech^. 


RELIGION. 


(     700    ) 


RELIGION. 


11.  In  communion  with  God. 

(4155.)  There  is  another  kind  of  virtue  that  may 
find  employment  for  those  retired  hours  in  which 
we  are  altoi^ether  left  to  ourselves  and  destitute  of 
company  and  conversation  ;  I  mean  that  intercourse 
and  coniniunication  which  every  reasonable  creature 
ought  to  maintain  with  the  great  Author  of  his 
being.  The  man  who  lives  under  an  habitual  sense 
of  the  Divine  presence  keeps  up  a  perpetual  cheer- 
'^'dness  of  temjier,  and  enjoys  every  moment  the 
satisfaction  of  thinking  himself  in  company  with  his 
dearest  and  best  of  friends.  The  time  never  lies 
heavy  upon  him  ;  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  be 
alone.  His  thoughts  and  passions  are  the  most 
busied  at  such  hours  when  those  of  other  men  are 
the  most  inactive.  He  no  sooner  steps  out  of  the 
world  but  his  heart  burns  with  devotion,  swells 
with  hope,  and  triumphs  in  the  consciousness  of 
that  presence  which  everywhere  surrounds  him  ;  or, 
on  the  contrary,  pours  out  its  fears,  its  sorrows,  its 
apprehensions  to  the  great  Supporter  of  its  exist- 
ence. — Addison,  1672-1719. 

III.    ITS  REASONABLENESS. 

(4156.)  Certainly  that  which  is  necessary  should 
be  preferred  before  that  which  is  superfluous.  A 
man  would  take  care  to  get  meat  rather  than  sauce, 
and  wouJd  prefer  his  business  before  his  recreation. 
It  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  be  great  and  rich 
in  the  world  ;  within  a  little  while  it  will  not  be  a 
pin  to  choose  what  jiait  we  have  acted  here.  But 
it  is  necessary  we  should  be  gracious,  holy,  and 
acquainted  with  God  in  Christ  :  that  is  our  business. 

Again,  that  which  is  eternal  should  be  preferred 
before  that  which  is  temporal.  You  count  him  a 
fool  who  is  very  exact  and  careful  to  get  his  room 
in  an  inn  furnished,  when  he  neglects  his  house 
where  his  constant  abode  is.  In  the  other  world — 
there  is  our  home  1  and  if  all  our  care  should  be 
here  for  the  present  estate  where  we  tarry  but  for  a 
night,  and  neglect  eternity,  our  everlasting  happi- 
ness, that  were  a  very  great  folly. 

That  wh  ch  is  spiritual,  which  concerns  our  soul, 
should  be  preferred  liefore  that  which  is  carnal  and 
corporeal,  and  only  concerns  the  body  :  for  the 
better  part  should  have  the  most  care.  As,  for 
instance,  a  man  that  is  wounded,  and  cut  through 
his  clothes  and  skin  and  all,  v\ill  sooner  look  to 
have  the  wound  closed  up  in  his  body,  than  the  rent 
made  up  in  his  garment.  So  the  distempers  of  the 
inward  man  should  be  first  cured  before  we  look 
after  the  outward  man,  which  is  as  it  were  the 
garment  and  clothing,  for  these  outward  things  shall 
be  added.  Here  is  jour  work — to  please  God,  not 
to  satisfy  the  flesh.  Tiiis  is  that  which  concerns  us 
not  only  for  a  little  while,  but  for  ever,  and  con- 
cerns the  inward  man.       — Manion,  1620-1667. 

(4157.)  It  may  be  made  out  to  be  reasonable  to 
embrace  and  voluntarily  to  submit  to  present  and 
grievous  sufferings,  in  hopes  of  future  hajipmess  and 
reward  ;  concerning  which  we  have  not,  nor  perhaps 
.ire  capable  of  having,  the  same  certainty  and  assur- 
ance, which  we  have  of  the  evils  and  sufferings  of 
this  present  life. 

Now,  granting  that  we  have  not  the  same  cer- 
tainty concerning  our  future  hajipiness,  that  we 
have  of  our  present  sufferings  which  we  feel,  or  see 
just  reidy  to  come  upon  us  ;  yet  prudence  making 
It  necessary  for  men  to  run  this  hazard,  does  justify 


the  reasonableness  of  it.  This  I  take  to  be  a  i4"own 
and  ruletl  case  in  the  common  affairs  of  life,  and  in 
matters  of  temporal  concernment  ;  and  men  act 
upon  this  piinciple  every  day.  The  luisbamlman 
parts  with  his  coin,  and  casts  it  into  the  earth,  in 
confidence  that  it  will  spring  up  again,  and  at  the 
time  of  harvest  bring  him  in  a  considerable  return 
and  advantage.  He  parts  with  a  certainty  in  hope 
only  of  a  great  future  benefit.  And  though  he  have 
no  demonstration  for  the  infallible  success  of  his 
labour  and  hazard,  yet  he  acts  very  reasonably  ; 
because  if  he  does  not  take  this  course,  he  runs  a 
greater  and  mure  certain  hazard  of  perishing  by 
famine  at  last,  when  his  present  stock  is  spent. 
The  case  of  the  merchant  is  the  same,  who  parts 
with  a  present  estate  in  hopes  of  a  future  improve- 
ment, which  yet  is  not  so  certain  as  what  he  parts 
withal. 

And  if  this  be  reasonable  in  these  cases,  then  the 
hazard  which  men  run  with  greater  assurance  than 
either  the  husbandman  or  the  merchant  have,  is 
much  more  reasonable.  When  we  part  with  this 
life  in  hopes  of  one  infinitely  better,  that  is  in  sure 
and  certain  hope  of  a  resurrection  to  eternal  life; 
and  when  we  submit  to  present  sufferings  to  avoid 
an  eternity  of  misery,  which  is  much  more  to  be 
dreaded  than  temporal  want,  this  is  reasonable  ; 
because  here  is  a  much  greater  advantage  in  view, 
anil  a  more  pressing  necessity  in  the  case, — nothing 
being  so  desirable  to  one  that  must  live  for  ever,  as 
to  be  happy  for  ever;  and  nothing  to  be  avoided 
by  him  with  so  much  care  as  everlasting  misery 
and  ruin.  And  lor  our  security  of  obtaining 
the  one  and  escaping  the  other  we  have  the  pro- 
mise of  God  who  cannot  lie  ;  which  is  all  the  cer- 
tainty and  security  that  things  future  and  invisible 
are  capable  of.  — TilloLon,  1630- 1694. 


(4158.)  He  that  will  allow  exquisite  and  endless 
happiness  to  be  but  the  possible  consequence  of  a 
good  life  here,  and  the  contrary  state  the  possible 
reward  of  a  bad  one,  mu--t  own  himsell  to  judge 
very  much  amiss  if  he  does  not  conclude  that  a 
virtuous  life,  with  the  ceitain  expectation  of  ever- 
lasting bliss  v.iiich  may  come,  is  to  be  preferred  to  a 
vicious  one,  with  the  lear  ol  that  dreadlul  state  of 
misery  which  it  is  very  possible  may  overtake  the 
guilty,  or  at  best  the  terrible  uncertain  hope  of 
annihilation.  This  is  evidently  so,  ihougli  the 
virtuous  liie  here  had  nothing  but  pain,  and  the 
vicious,  continual  pleasure  ;  which  yet  is  for  the 
most  part  quite  otheiwise,  and  wicked  men  have  not 
much  the  odds  to  brag  of,  even  in  their  present 
possession  ;  nay,  all  things  rightly  considered,  have, 
I  think,  the  worst  part  here.  IJut  when  infinite 
happiness  is  put  in  one  scale  against  infinite  misery 
in  the  other, — if  the  worst  that  comes  to  the  pious 
man,  if  he  mistakes,  be  the  be>t  that  the  wicked 
attain  to,  if  he  be  in  the  right, — who  can  without 
madness  run  the  venture  ?  Who  in  his  wits  wouid 
choose  to  come  within  a  possibility  of  infinite 
misery,  whicli  if  he  miss  there  is  yet  nothing  to  be 
got  by  that  hazaril  ?  \\  hereas.  on  the  other  side, 
the  sober  man  ventures  nothing  against  infinite 
happiness  to  be  got,  if  his  expecta  ion  comes  to 
pass.  If  the  good  man  be  in  the  right,  he  is  eter- 
nally happy  ;  if  he  mistakes,  he  is  not  miserable  ; 
he  feels  nothing.  On  the  other  side,  if  the  wicked 
be  in  the  right,  he  is  not  happy ;  if  he  mistakes,  he 
is  infinitely   miserable.      Must  it   not   be  a   most 


RELIGION. 


(    701    ) 


RELIGION. 


wrong  judgment  that  does  not  presently  see  to 
which  side  in  this  case  the  preference  is  to  be 
given?  — Zot^i?,  1632-1704. 

IV.    ITS    VALUE. 

1.  Cannot  well  be  overstated. 

(4159.)  Keligion  is  like  the  firmament  ;  the  more 
it  is  examineii  tlie  s^neater  the  number  of  stars  will 
be  discovered  ;  like  the  sea,  the  more  it  is  observed 
the  more  it  appears  to  be  immense  ;  like  fine  gold, 
the  more  it  is  tried  in  the  furnace  the  greater  will 
be  its  lustre.  — Kays  of  Light. 

2.  Is  manifest  In  the  dignity  It  gives  to  our  life, 
(4160.)  It  is  a  peculiar  advantage  of  piety  that  it 

furnisheth  employment  fit  for  us,  worthy  of  us, 
hugely  grateful,  and  highly  beneficial  to  us.  Man 
is  a  very  busy  and  active  creature,  which  cannot  live 
and  do  nothing,  whose  thoughts  are  in  restless 
motion,  whose  desires  are  ever  stretching  at  some- 
what, who  perpetually  will  be  working  either  good 
or  evil  to  himself,  wlierefore  greatly  profitable  must 
that  thing  be  which  determineth  him  to  act  well, 
to  spend  tiis  care  and  pam  on  that  which  is  truly 
advantageous  to  him  ;  and  that  is  religion  only.  It 
alone  fasteneth  our  thoughts,  aflections,  and  en- 
deavours upon  occupations  worthy  the  dignity  of 
our  nature,  suiting  the  excellency  of  our  natural 
capac  ties  and  endowments,  tending  to  the  perfec- 
tion and  advancement  of  our  reason,  to  the  enriching 
anil  ennobling  of  our  souls.  Secluding  tiiat,  we 
have  nothing  in  the  world  to  study,  to  aftect,  to 
pursue,  not  very  mean  and  below  us,  not  very  base, 
and  misbecoming  us,  as  men  of  reason  and  judg- 
ment. What  have  we  to  do  but  to  eat  and  drink 
like  horses  or  like  swine  ;  but  to  sport  and  play  like 
children  or  apes  ;  but  to  bicker  and  scufBe  about 
trifles  and  impertinences  like  idiots  ?  What  but  to 
scrape  or  scramble  for  useless  pelf,  to  hunt  after 
empty  shows  and  shadows  of  honour,  or  the  vain 
fancies  and  dreams  of  men  ?  What,  but  to  wallow 
or  bask  in  sordid  pleasures,  the  which  soon  degene- 
rate into  remorse  and  bitterness  ?  To  which  sort  of 
employments  were  a  man  confined,  what  a  pitiful 
thing  would  he  be,  and  how  inconsiderable  were  his 
life  1  Were  a  man  designed  only,  like  a  fly,  to  buzz 
about  here  for  a  time,  sucking  in  the  air  and  licking 
the  dew,  then  soon  to  vanish  back  into  nothing,  or 
to  be  transformed  into  worms,  how  sorry  and  des- 
picable a  thing  were  he  I  And  such  without 
religion  we  should  be.  But  it  supplielh  us  with 
business  of  a  most  worthy  nature  and  lofty  import- 
ance ;  it  setteth  us  upon  doing  things  great  and  noble 
as  can  be  ;  it  engageth  us  to  free  our  minds  from  all 
fond  conceits,  and  cleanse  our  hearts  from  all  corrupt 
affections,  to  curb  our  brutish  appetites,  to  tame  our 
wild  passions,  to  correct  our  perverse  inclinations, 
to  conform  the  dispositions  of  our  souls  and  the 
actions  of  life  to  the  eternal  laws  of  righteousness 
and  goodness ;  it  putteth  us,  upon  the  imitation  of 
God,  upon  obtaining  a  friendship  and  maintaining 
a  correspondence  with  the  High  and  Holy  One, 
upon  fitting  our  minds  for  conversation  and  society 
with  the  wisest  and  purest  spirits  above,  upon  pro- 
viding for  an  immortal  state,  upon  the  acquisition  of 
joy  and  glory  everlasting.  It  employeth  us  in  the 
divinest  actions,  promoting  virtue,  performing  bene- 
ficence, serving  the  public,  and  doing  good  to  all  ; 
the  being  exercised  in  which  tilings  doth  indeed 
render  a  man  highly  considerable,  and  his  life  ex- 
cellently valuable.  — Barrow,  1630-1677. 


3.  Is  manifest  in  its  influence  on  individual 
happiness. 

(4161.)  There  are  no   principles   but    those   o.' 
religion  to  be  depended  upon  in  cases  of  real  dis- 
tress ;  and   these  are  able  to  hear  us  up  under  all 
the  changes  and  chances  to  which  our  life  is  subject. 
— Sterne,  1713-1768. 

(4162.)  Believe  me,  I  speak  it  deliberately  and 
with  full  conviction  :  I  have  enjoyed  many  of  the 
comforts  of  life,  none  of  which  1  wish  to  esteem 
lightly  ;  often  have  I  been  charmed  with  the  beau- 
ties of  nature,  and  refreshed  with  her  bountiful  gifts. 
1  have  spent  many  an  hour  in  sweet  meditation, 
and  in  reading  the  most  valuable  productions  of  the 
wisest  men.  I  have  often  been  delighted  with  the 
conversation  of  ingenious,  sensible,  and  exalted 
characters  :  my  eyes  have  been  powerfully  attracted 
by  the  finest  productions  of  human  art,  and  my  ears 
by  enchanting  melodies.  I  have  found  pleasure 
when  calling  into  activity  the  powers  of  my  own 
mind  ;  when  re-iding  in  my  own  native  land  or 
travelling  through  foreign  parts  ;  when  surrounded 
by  large  and  splendid  companies — still  more  when 
moving  in  the  small  endearing  circle  of  my  own 
family  ;  yet,  to  speak  tlie  truth  before  God,  who 
is  my  Judge,  I  must  confess  I  know  not  any  joy 
that  is  so  dear  to  me,  that  so  fully  satisfies  the 
inmost  desires  of  my  mind,  that  so  enlivens,  refines, 
and  elevates  my  whole  nature,  as  that  which  I 
derive  from  religion,  from  faith  in  God  :  as  one 
who  not  only  is  the  parent  of  men,  but  has  con- 
descended ,as  a  brother,  to  clothe  Himself  with 
our  nature.  Nothing  affords  me  greater  delight 
than  a  solid  hope  that  I  partake  of  liis  lavours,  and 
rely  on  His  never-failing  support  and  protection 
.  .  .  •  He  who  has  been  so  often  my  hope,  my 
refuge,  my  confidence,  when  I  stood  upon  the 
brink  of  an  abyss  where  1  could  not  move  one  step 
forward  ;  He  wlio,  in  answer  to  my  prayer,  has 
helped  me  when  every  prospect  of  lielp  vanished  ; 
that  God  who  has  safely  conducted  me,  not  merely 
through  flowery  paths,  but  likewise  across  precipices 
and  burning  sands ; — may  this  God  be  thy  God, 
thy  comfort,  as  He  has  been  mine  ! 

— Lavater,  1741-1801. 

(4163.)  On  a  Sunday  afternoon,  a  working  man 
— a  fine,  tall  fellow,  with  honest,  manly  face,  and 
in  an  easy  manner — thus  addressed  a  crowd  of 
hearers,  in  Regent's  Park,  London  : — 

"There  is,"  he  said,  "nothing  like  religion  foi 
making  you  truly  happy.  The  other  day  I  was 
passing  by  an  infidel  place,  and  must  need.-,  go  in  ; 
so  when  I  got  in,  1  heard  a  man  giving  an  account 
of  a  visit  which  he  had  paid  to  one  of  their  number 
who  had  just  died  ;  and  he  said  that  he  could  assuie 
them,  on  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  thai  he  had  died 
very  happy.  Well,  I  thought  to  myself,  'That's 
very  strange  ; '  so  when  he  sat  down,  I  rose  and 
said,  '  May  1  be  permitted  to  speak  a  word?' 

"  '  By  all  means,'  they  answered. 

"  So  I  said  to  them,  *  The  gentleman  who  has 
just  sat  down  has  told  you  that  one  of  your  friends, 
an  infidel,  who  professed  to  believe  that  dying  is 
either  going  nowhere,  or  else  going  no  one  knows 
where,  died  very  happy.  Now,  that's  the  very 
first  infidel  I  ever  heard  of  who  died  very  happy  ; 
but,  as  your  Iriend  declares  it  on  tne  word  oi  a 
genJeman,  of  course  it  must  be  so.  I  am  obliged 
to  admit  that  one  iuhdel  has  died   '*very  happy." 


RELIGION. 


(     702    ) 


RELIGION. 


But  then,  if  he  died  very  liappy,  I  am  sure  he  lived 
very  miserable.  For,  listen  ;  I've  got  a  dear  wife 
■at  liuaie  ;  she  is  the  light  of  my  dwelling.  When 
I  !.;*[  home  from  my  work,  there  she  always  is, 
■with  smiHiig  face,  to  give  me  a  cup  of  tea  and  a 
warm  welcome.  If  I  were  going  to  die,  and  leave 
'her  for  ever,  to  go  nowhere,  or  no  one  knows 
where,  I  couldn't  be  iiappy  at  that  moment.  I 
have  four  dear  little  childien,  whose  little,  bright 
faces  are  always  looking  out  for  me  when  I  am 
coming  home,  and  whose  pretty  prattle  and  merry 
laugh  I  love  to  hear.  If  I  weie  going  to  die,  and 
to  look  on  those  dear  little  faces  no  more,  and 
felt  that  I  was  going  nowhere,  or  no  one  knows 
where,  I  could  not  be  very  happy  at  that  moment. 
\{  I  had  lived  a  cat-and-dog  life  with  my  wile,  and 
wished  to  get  rid  of  her  on  any  terms ;  if  my 
■chiklren  had  been  my  curse  and  torment,  and  I 
wished  by  any  means  to  see  the  last  of  them  ;  then, 
iperhaps,  1  coukl  be  happy  in  the  thought  of  dying, 
and  going  nowhere  or  anywhere  ;  but  this  would 
only  be,  Decause  I  had  lived  so  miserably.  And 
so  I  say  that  the  person  whose  death  has  been 
.described,  and  who  died  so  happy,  must  have  lived 
very  miserable  ;  for  if  he  had  lived  happy,  he  could 
only  have  been  miserable  at  the  thought  of  dying, 
•and  leaving  all  that  made  him  happy  behind, 

"  '  But,  my  friends,  real  religion  makes  us  happy 
•while  we  live,  and  happy  when  we  die.  It  is 
ireligion  that  has  given  me  such  a  happy  home  ; 
it  is  that  which  makes  my  wife  so  good  a  wife,  and 
imy  children  such  obedient  children,  and  myself 
such  a  happy  man  ;  and  when  I  come  to  die,  then, 
through  faith  in  my  blessed  Saviour  who  died 
ito  redeem  me,  I  know  where  I  shall  go — to  my 
Father's  house  in  heaven.  There  I  shall  see  my 
Saviour  whom  I  loved,  and  have  a  happy  meeting 
again  with  those  I  left  behind.  I  can  speak 
well,  then,  of  real  religion  ;  I  can  warmly  recom- 
mend it  to  you.  Without  delay  choose  this  good 
part.  Give  your  hearts  to  the  Saviour,  and  He 
will  make  you  safe  and  happy  for  ever. '  " 

4.  Is  manifest  In  Its  Influence  on  the  national 
welfare. 

(4164.)  It  is  a  most  important  sentiment,  and 
ouglu  to  be  kept  constantly  before  the  public  mind, 
that  reliL;ion  is  the  most  direct  and  powerful  cause 
of  nalinnal  comiort,  prosperity,  and  security,  and 
that  in  its  absence  all  their  other  causes  must  be 
limited  and  transient  in  their  effects.  If  religion 
were  a  mere  abstraction  of  devotion,  confined  to  the 
closet  and  the  sanctuary,  and  restricted  in  its  influ- 
ence to  the  imagination  and  the  taste,  but  not  having 
any  necessar)'  control  over  the  conscience,  the  heart, 
and  the  life,  and  not  intentled  to  regulate  the  inter- 
course of  society;  if  it  consisted  merely  in  attendance 
of  the  rites  and  forms  of  the  Church,  and  began  and 
ended  upon  tlie  threshold  of  the  house  of  God,  then 
it  would  be  difficult  to  point  out  what  connection 
such  a  religion  had  with  the  welfare  of  a  country. 
It  would,  in  that  case,  resemble  the  ivy,  which, 
though  it  add  a  picturesque  effect  to  a  venerable 
fabric,  imparts  neither  stability  to  its  walls,  nor 
convenience  to  its  apartments.  But  if  religion  be 
indeed  a  principle  of  the  heart,  an  element  of  the 
character,  the  habit  of  thinking,  feeling,  and  acting 
aright  in  all  our  social  relations,  the  basis  of  every 
virtue,  and  the  main  prop  of  every  excellence,  if  it 
be  intleed  the  fear  of  the  Lord  by  which  men  depart 
troin  evil,  if  it  be  faith  working  by  love,   if  it  be 


such  a  belief  in  the  gospel  of  Christ  as  leads  to  a 
conformity  to  His  example,  religion  bei.'ig  such  as 
this  must  secure  the  welfare  of  any  country.  There 
is  not  one  smgle  influence,  whether  of  law,  of 
science,  of  art,  of  learning,  tending  to  the  well-being 
of  society,  which  true  religion  does  not  guard  and 
strengthen.  —James. 

(4165.)  Of  all  the  dispositions  and  habits  which 
lead  to  political  prosperity,  religion  and  morality 
are  indispensable  supports.  In  vain  would  that 
man  claim  the  tribute  of  patriotism  who  should 
labour  to  subvert  those  pillars  of  human  happiness, 
these  firmest  props  of  the  duties  of  men  and  citizens. 
The  mere  politician,  equally  with  the  pious  man, 
ought  to  respect  and  to  cherish  them.  A  volume 
could  not  trace  all  their  connections  with  private  and 
public  felicity.  Let  it  simply  be  asked,  Where  is 
the  security  for  property,  for  reputation,  for  lile,  if 
the  sense  of  religious  obligation  desert  the  oaths 
which  are  the  instruments  of  investigation  in  courts 
of  justice?  And  let  us- with  caution  indulge  the 
su|)position  that  morality  can  be  maintained  without 
religion.  Whatever  may  be  conceded  to  the  influ- 
ence of  refined  education  on  minds  of  peculiar 
structure,  reason  and  experience  both  forbid  us  to 
expect  that  national  morality  can  prevail  in  exclu- 
sion of  religious  principle. 

—  Washington  :  Farcivell  address  to  the  people  of 
the  United  States, 

(4166.)  Human  society  reposes  on  religion. 
Civilisation  without  it  would  be  like  the  lights  that 
play  in  the  northern  sky — a  momentary  flash  on  the 
face  of  darkness  ere  it  again  settled  into  eternal 
night.  Wit  and  wisdom,  sublime  poetry  and  lofty 
phdosophy,  cannot  save  a  nation,  else  ancient  Greece 
had  never  perished.  Valour,  law,  ambition,  cannot 
preserve  a  people,  else  Rome  had  still  been  mistress 
of  the  world.  The  nation  that  loses  faith  in  God 
and  man  loses  not  only  its  most  precious  jewel,  but 
its  most  uniiying  and  Conserving  force  ;  has  before 
it  a 

"  Stygian  cave  forlorn 

Where   brooding   darkness    spreads    his  jealous 
wings. 

And  the  night  raven  sings." — A.  M.  Fairbaim, 

V.    ITS  DIFFICULTIES. 

1,  Are  often  exaggerated. 

(4167.)  How  common  it  is  for  men  first  to  throw 
dirt  in  the  face  of  religion,  and  then  persuade  them- 
selves it  is  its  natuial  complexion  1  They  represent 
it  to  themselves  in  a  shape  least  pleasing  to  them, 
and  then  bring  that  as  a  plea  why  they  give  it  no 
better  entertainment.     — Utillingfleet,  1633-1699. 

2.  Yet  they  are  not  to  be  concealed. 

(4168.)  It  is  not  to  taste  sweet  things,  but  to  do 
noble  and  true  things,  and  vindicate  himself  under 
God's  heaven  as  a  God-made  man,  that  the  poorest 
son  of  Adam  dindy  longs.  Show  him  the  way  ol 
doing  that,  the  dullest  day-drudge  kindles  into  a 
hero.  They  wrong  man  greatly  who  say  he  is  to  be 
seduced  by  ease.  Difficulty,  abnegation,  martyr- 
dom, death,  are  the  allurements  that  act  on  the 
heart  of  man.  Kindle  the  inner  genial  life  of  him, 
you  have  a  flame  that  burns  up  all  lower  considera- 
tions. Not  happiness,  but  something  higher  :  one 
sees  this  even   in  the  frivolous  classes,   with  theu" 


RELIGION. 


C    ?03    ) 


RELIGIOM. 


"point  of  honour"  and  the  like.  Not  by  flattering 
our  appetites  ;  no  :  by  awakening  the  heroic  that 
slumbers  in  every  heart,  can  any  religion  gain  fol- 
lowers. —  Carlyle. 

3.  Neither  are  they  to  be  made  unduly  promi- 
nent. 

(4169.)  It  is  wrong  to  exhibit  chiefly,  as  we  are 
in  danger  of  doing,  the  negative  side  of  religion,  its 
refusals,  its  limitations,  its  pains,  its  healing  pro- 
cesses. Suppose  that  in  attempting  to  set  forth 
the  delights  of  learning,  one  should  represent  the 
dog-eared  spelling-book,  a  boy  stewing  in  stupefac- 
tions, and  all  the  unwelcome  tasks  and  perplexities 
which  are  concomitant  to  an  education.  These 
things  are  no  part  of  the  representation  of  the 
joy  of  literature,  though  it  is  through  them  that 
one  must  come  to  it  if  he  experiences  it.  Suppose 
that  in  descanting  upon  the  joys  of  health,  one 
sliould  set  forth  all  the  stages  throu>;h  which 
he  has  gone  from  sickness  up  to  health,  describing; 
the  sickroom,  the  disgustful  potions,  the  nursing, 
the  ten  thousand  things  that  weary  and  harass 
the  convalescent  ?  These  are  not  concomitants  of 
health,  though  they  may  be  necessary  to  the  pro- 
cess of  procuring  it.  Now  there  are  many  things 
■in  religion  that  stand  ctmnected  with  the  process  of 
education  and  of  healing,  which  make  it  necessary 
for  us  to  bear  the  cross,  to  deny  ourselves,  to 
suffer  more  or  less  pain  ;  but  these  things  belong 
to  the  negative  side,  and  it  is  wrong  to  put  that 
side  in  such  prominence  that  men  of  the  world 
shall  take  their  idea  of  religion  from  these  instru- 
mental processes.  There  is  also  a  positive  side 
to  religion.  There  is  joy  connected  with  it  ;  joy 
in  God  ;  joy  in  trust  and  hope  ;  joy  in  conscience  ; 
joy  in  love  ;  joy  in  the  Providence  which  overrules 
and  watches  all  men's  interests  ;  joy  in  redemption  ; 
joy  in  the  Holy  Spirit  ;  joy  in  the  anticipation  of 
heaven  ;  joy  on  every  side.  These  belong  to  every 
real  Christian  in  a  greater  or  less  measure  ;  and  it 
is  the  side  of  religion  to  which  they  belong  that 
ought  to  be  exhibited.  You  do  not  think  it  need- 
ful to  bring  all  the  dross  that  is  in  the  gold  from 
California  to  exhibit  it.  You  think  it  is  enough  to 
bring  the  gold  and  exhibit  that.  And  it  is  not 
needful  that  you  should  exhibit  all  the  dross  of 
experience,  and  make  it  equal  to  the  real  experi- 
ence of  Christian  life.  The  point  where  the  soul 
catches  the  light  of  heaven  ;  the  point  where  the 
Holy  Ghost,  resting  on  the  affections,  kindles  them 
into  responsiveness  to  God— that  is  the  point  where 
the  world  should  begin  to  see  religion. 

— Beecher. 

4.  They  are  not  exceptional. 

(4170.)  Is  religion  difficult?  and  what  is  not  so, 
that  is  good  for  anything?  Is  not  the  law  a  difhcult 
and  crabbed  study  ?  Does  it  not  require  great 
labour  and  perpetual  drudging  to  excel  in  any  kind 
of  knowledge,  to  be  master  ol  any  art  or  profession  ? 
In  a  word,  is  there  anything  in  the  world  worthy 
the  having  that  is  to  be  gotten  without  pains? 
And  is  eternal  life  and  glory  the  only  slight  and 
inconsiderable  thing  that  is  not  worth  our  care  and 
industry?  — Tillotson,  1630- 1694. 

6.  They  are  transient. 

(41 7 1.)  An  heifer  that  is  not  used  to  the  yoke 
stniggles  ;  the  yoke  pmcheth  the  neck,  but  after  a 
while  she  carries  it  more  gently.  A  new  suit, 
though  ne\er  so  well  fitted  to  a  man's  body,  is  not 


so  easy  the  first  day  as  after  it  is  worn  awhile. 
Two  millstones,  after  they  be  made  fit,  do  not 
grind  so  well  at  the  first  as  afterwards.  As  we  see 
it  is  with  a  man  when  he  goes  to  bathe  himself  in 
the  midst  of  summer,  there  is  a  trembling  of  his 
body  when  he  first  puts  into  the  water,  but  after 
he  hath  drenched  himself  all  over  he  is  not  sensible 
of  any  cold  at  all.  So  the  way  of  religion  is 
irksome  at  the  first,  but  after,  it  gives  great  comfort 
and  contentment ;  it  is  called  a  yoke,  grave  cum 
toUis,  iSr'c.  (grievous  when  a  man  takes  it  up,  but, 
after  it  is  borne  awhile,  both  easy  and  light).  It  is 
a  straight  way,  yet  try  it  ;  put  into  it,  however  :  do 
but  patiently  bear  the  difficulty  of  the  entrance, 
and  then  thy  feet  shall  not  be  straitened  ;  thou 
shalt  find  more  and  more  enlargement,  each  day 
will  bring  more  comfort  than  the  other. 

— Shtite,  1643. 
6.  How  they  are  to  he  overcome. 

(4172.)  "  Drink  deep,  or  taste  not,"  is  a  direction 
fully  as  applicable  to  religion,  if  we  would  find  it  a 
source  ot  pleasure,  as  it  is  to  knowledge.  A  little 
religion  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  apt  to  make  men 
gloomy,  as  a  little  knowledge  is  to  render  them  vain  : 
hence  the  unjust  imputation  often  brought  upon 
relii^ion  by  those  whose  degree  of  religion  is  just 
sufficient,  by  condemning  their  course  of  conduct, 
to  render  them  uneasy  ;  enough  meiely  to  impair 
the  sweetness  of  the  pleasures  of  sin,  and  not  enough 
to  compensate  for  the  relinquishment  of  therr.  by  its 
own  peculiar  comforts.  Thus  then  men  bring  up,  as  it 
were,  an  ill  report  of  that  land  of  promise,  which, 
in  truth,  abounds  with  whatever,  in  our  journey 
through  life,  can  best  refresh  and  strengthen  us. 
—  Wilberfo}-ce,  1759-1833. 

(4173.)  God's  commands  "are  not  grievous"  to 
those  in  whose  hearts  His  love  is  shed  abroad. 
Their  actions  correspond  with  inward  principles  and 
dispositions ;  these  render  them  pleasant  and  de- 
lightful. The  religion  of  Jesus  will  always  be  a 
yoke  ;  but  His  people  find  it  to  be  an  easy  one, 
like  the  yoke  of  marriage  to  that  happy  pair  who 
daily  bless  God  for  the  bondage.  It  is  a  burden, 
but  always  light,  because  of  His  grace  and  love: 
the  burden  of  a  pair  of  wings  to  a  bird,  which  gives 
buoyancy,  ascension,  and  the  expanse  of  the  skies. 
—Jay,  1769-1853. 

VI.    ITS   PLEASANTNESS. 

(4174.)  Religion  is  not  the  prophet's  roll,  sweet 
ashoney  when  itwas  in  his  mouth, butasbitter  as  gall 
in  his  belly.  Religion  is  no  sullen  Stoicism,  no  sour 
Pharisaism  :  it  does  not  consist  in  a  few  melancholy 
passions,  in  some  dejected  looks  or  depressions  of 
mind  ;  but  it  consists  in  freedom,  love,  peace,  life,  and 
power;  the  more  it  comes  to  be  digested  into  our  lives, 
the  more  sweet  and  lovely  we  shal  1  find  it  to  be.  Those 
spots  and  wrinkles  which  corrupted  minds  think 
they  see  in  the  face  of  religion,  are  indeed  nowhere 
else  but  in  their  own  deformed  and  misshapen  ap- 
prehensions. It  is  no  wonder  when  a  defiled  fancy 
comes  to  be  the  glass  if  you  have  an  unlovely 
reflection.  —John  Smith,  '618-1652. 

(4175.)  Outward  things  and  forms,  like  glow- 
worms, may  be  glistening,  but  they  are  not  warming; 
it  is  the  power  of  religion,  like  the  sun,  that  brings 
refreshing  light  and  enlivening  heat  along  with  it. 
"The  wicked  is  snared  in  his  wickedness,  but  the 
righteous  sing  and  rejoice."      — 'iwinnuck,  1&73.  ■• 


RELIGION, 


(    704    ) 


RELIGION. 


(4176.)  Who  are  they  that  say  that  religion  is 
gloomy?  Infidels,  profane  men.  But  why  should 
I  listen  to  their  testimony  about  religitm?  I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  listening  to  the  testimony  of  blind 
men  about  the  beauties  of  colour  ;  I  am  not  in  the 
habit  of  listening  to  the  testimony  of  deaf  men  upon 
the  harmonies  of  sound  and  the  variations  of  melody  ; 
and  if  I  do  not  listen  to  blind  men  about  colour,  or 
to  deaf  men  about  sounds,  why  shoukl  I  listen  to 
infidel  men  about  religion?  They  never  tested  it; 
they  never  experimented  the  matter. 

— Beaumont. 

VII.  HOW  THE  IVORLD  JUDGES  OF  IT. 

(4177.)  While  you  are  talking  about  distributing 
Bibles,  really,  in  men's  esteem,  you  are  Bibles 
yourselves,  walking  through  the  streets  and  in  places 
of  business.  Do  not  you  know  that  hundreds  of 
men  judge  of  the  truth  or  falsity  of  religion  by  what 
you  are  and  what  you  do?  Do  not  you  know  that 
men  are  wont  to  say,  "Oh,  the  preacher  drones  and 
drones  about  virtue,  but  just  see  how  his  Church 
lives.  As  I  understand  it,  virtues  are  things  that 
are  to  be  looked  for  in  the  life.  The  doctrine  that 
a  man  preaches  is  to  be  judged  of  by  what  his 
people  are  ?  "  Do  not  men  often  make  such  remarks 
as  this:  "Do  you  go  and  tell  your  minister  that 
when  he  makes  A,  B,  and  C,  honest  men,  I  will  at- 
tend to  his  message"?  Do  not  men  say,  "Ah!  I 
understand  what  your  religion  is  ;  for  1  have  had 
dealings  with  one  of  your  members"?  You  under- 
stand what  his  failings  are  in  the  hour  of  temptation  ; 
for  there  is  a  great  want  of  charitableness  toward 
bad  Christian  men,  or  imperfect  Christian  men — if 
those  two  words  may  go  together.  But  is  it  not  by 
living  Christians,  after  all,  that  the  world  judges  of 
the  Bible  and  its  doctrines? 

Give  me  the  men,  and  I  will  write  a  commentary 
on  the  Bible  that  will  not  need  any  explanation — 
for  most  commentaries  are  more  troublesome  than 
the  Bible  which  they  are  designed  to  explain.  I  will 
put  them,  not  in  the  sanctuary  on  the  Sabbath,  but 
et  home,  in  the  street,  in  their  neighbourhood,  in  all 
the  intricacies  of  business,  everyu  here ;  and  no 
matter  where  they  may  be,  they  sliall  be  a  savour 
of  Christ,  sweet  as  the  odour  of  blossoms.  They 
shall  be  garden-men  that  have  some  flowers  for 
every  month,  and  that  are  always  flagrant  and 
re  lo'ent  of  blossom  and  fruit.  Give  me  a  hundred 
stich  men,  and  I  will  defy  the  infidel  \\i/rkl.  I  will 
take  d.em  and  bind  them  into  a  living  volume,  and 
with  them  1  will  make  the  world  believe.  It  only 
takes  about  one  man  in  a  hundred  years  to  make 
the  world  believe.  After  a  long  age  of  religious 
corruption,  and  hollow-hearted ness,  and  ouiside 
observance,  and  sprawling  before  God,  and  filling 
tile  empty  air  with  empty  words,  and  neglecting 
the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  there  comes  a  man 
Lke  Lullier — when  all  the  corruptions  of  the  Church 
are  forgotten,  and  men,  looking  on  him  say,  "Tiiere 
is  truth  in  religion,  after  all. "  One  Luther  is  enough 
to  qualily  a  hundred  years'  growih  of  infidels  and 
hypocrites.  Now  give  me  a  hundred  men — not  men 
that  are  glowing  while  ihey  sing  and  heavenly 
while  they  pray,  though  I  would  have  them  so; 
but  men  tiiat  are,  morning  and  noon  and  night,  born 
of  God,  and  that  so  carry  the  savour  of  Christ  that 
men  coming  into  their  presence  say,  "  There  is  a 
Christian  here,"  as  men  passing  a  vintage  say, 
"There  are  grapes  here."  Give  n?t  a  hundred  such 
Baen,  and  1  will  mako  the  wirld  believe.     1  do  not 


ask  to  be  shown  the  grape-vine  in  the  woods  is 
June  before  I  will  believe  it  is  there.  1  know  that 
there  are  grapes  near  when  the  air  is  full  of  their 
odour;  and  the  question  under  such  circumstances 
always  is,  "  Where  is  the  vine  ?"  and  never,  "  What 
is  it  that  I  smell  ?  "  You  are  to  be  a  savour  of  love, 
and  peace,  and  gentleness,  and  gratitude,  and 
thanksgiving,  so  that  wherever  you  go,  the  essenca 
of  the  truth  that  is  in  you  shall  go  out  to  men. 

— /J dec  her.. 

VIII.  ITS  RELATION'  TO  OUR  DAILY  LIFE. 
1.  It  Is  to  pervade  and  glorify  our  whole  life, 
(4178.)  If  you  would  speak  with  a  tradesman,  you 
may  meet  him  in  his  shop  ;  the  farmer's  usual 
walk  is  in  the  fields  ;  he  that  has  business  with  the 
merchant  expects  him  in  his  counting-house  or 
amongst  his  goods  :  and  he  that  looks  for  the 
Christian  shall  not  fail  to  find  him  with  his  God. 
Whether  he  be  alone  or  in  company,  abroad  or  in 
his  family,  buying  or  selling,  feeding  himself  ot 
visiting  others,  he  does  all  as  in  God's  presence, 
and  in  all  aims  at  His  praise.  As  the  sap  of  a  tree 
rises  up  from  the  root,  not  only  to  the  body,  but 
also  to  the  branches  and  smallest  twigs  ;  so  grace 
in  a  saint  springs  up  from  his  heart,  and  flows 
out,  not  only  in  his  spiritual  and  higher,  but  also 
in  his  civil  and  lower  actions.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4179.)  We  are  not  to  conceive  so  of  religion,  as 
h.iving  to  shun  the  familiar  ways  of  men,  as  like 
some  flowers  flourishing  best  in  the  shade,  or  aa 
being,  at  least  in  its  finer  and  more  ethereal  parts, 
like  a  corpse  long  dead  that  crumbles  into  dust 
when  exposed  to  air  ;  but  we  are  to  think  of  her 
as  the  mistress  and  mother  of  all  things  natural  and 
fair  and  wholesome  ;  as  the  friend  and  benefactor 
of  every  human  faculty  and  every  worldly  work ; 
as  able  to  descend  to  the  lowest  state  and  cheer 
the  saddest ;  as  the  sun  of  the  soul,  first  gilding 
the  mountain-heights  of  reason  and  conscience, 
but  "shining  more  and  more"  until  the  whole 
surface  of  our  life  reflects  its  light,  and  the  most 
humble  and  hidden  places  receive  and  rejoice  in 
its  enlivening  rays.  — Morris. 

(4180.)  Religion  is  not  a  thing  which  it  is  poss'l'e 
to  put  off  and  put  on  like  a  Sunday  dress.  Tl.eve 
are  certain  organs  of  your  body  to  which  you  can 
allow  repose,  and  if  they  are  out  of  order  you  may 
aftbrd  to  do  without  them  for  a  season.  But  there 
are  other  organs  which  do  not  cease  to  move  and 
work  from  the  first  moment  to  the  last  moment 
of  your  existence.  If  these  are  diseased,  impaired, 
or  weary,  they  must  work  on,  all  out  of  order  as 
they  are,  or  you  die.  You  cannot  give  a  week's, 
a  day's,  a  moment's  rest  to  your  heart  or  your  lungs. 
The  same  thing  may  be  said  of  your  religion.  It 
should  be  the  very  essence  of  your  whole  life, — 
the  spring  of  all  your  emotions, — the  ceaseless 
source  of  all  your  conduct ;  if  it  be  not  this,  you 
have  most  certainly  been  ixypfounding  something 
else  with  it.  You  cannot  fake  up  and  put  down, 
take  off  and  put  on,  your  religion.  If  you  think 
you  are  doing  so,  believe  me  that  as  yet  it  is  not 
a  religion,  but  a  web  of  delusions.      — Reynolds. 

(4181.)  There  are  a  good  many  pious  people  who 
are  as  careful  of  their  religion  as  of  their  best  ser- 
vice of  china,  only  using  it  on  holy  occasions  foi 
fear  it  should  get  chipped  or  flawed  in  working* 
day  wear.  — Douglas  Jerrold. 


RELIGION. 


(     705     ) 


RELIGION. 


(4182.)  What  is  religion  but  a  habit?  and  what 
is  a  habit  but  a  state  of  mind  which  is  always  upon 
us,  as  a  sort  of  ordinary  dress  or  inseparable  gar- 
ment of  the  soul.  A  man  cannot  really  be  relii^ious 
one  hour  and  not  religious  the  next.  We  nii^lit  as 
well  say  he  could  be  in  a  slate  of  good  health  one 
hour,  and  m  bad  health  the  next.  A  man  who  is 
religious,  is  religious  morning,  noon,  and  night  ; 
his  religion  is  a  certain  character,  a  mould  in  which 
his  thoughts,  words,  and  actions  are  cast,  all  form- 
ing parts  of  one  and  the  same  whole. 

— Newman. 

(4183.)  True  Christianity  is  not  a  nun,  to  be 
locked  up  within  cloistered  walls  ;  but  she  is  a  wife, 
a  mother,  the  nearest  and  the  dearest  in  all  the 
walks  and  vocations  of  this  present  life.  She  is  not 
to  be  your  light  only  upon  Sundays ;  she  is  also  to  be 
your  guide  upon  week  days. 

—  Cumming. 

(41S4  ^  Suppose  I  should  urge  a  man  to  live  an 
honest  life^  and  he  should  say,  "  1  am  going  to  set 
apart  from  my  daily  duties  an  hour  in  which  to  be 
honest."  Many  persons  think  of  piety  in  the  same 
way  that  we  might  suppose  such  a  man  would  think 
of  honesty.  They  regard  it  as  something  separated 
from  ordinary  life,  and  to  be  attended  to  at  intervals. 
They  have  an  idea  that  it  is  something  which  is 
lived  paniculaily  in  the  closet.  Now  it  is  proper 
that  there  should  be  special  hours  set  apart  for 
devotion  ;  but,  after  all,  a  life  of  piety,  like  a  life  of 
patriotism,  or  a  life  of  honesty,  is  connected  with, 
and  a  part  of,  common  life.  — Beecher. 

(4185.)  Men  think  religion  bears  the  same  rela- 
tion to  life  that  flowers  do  to  trees.  The  tree  must 
grow  through  a  long  period  before  the  blossoming 
time  :  so  they  think  religion  is  to  be  a  blossom  just 
before  death,  to  secure  heaven.  But  the  Bible 
represents  religion,  not  as  the  latest  fruit  of  life, 
but  as  the  whole  of  it — beginning,  middle,  and  end. 
It  is  simply  right  living.  — Beecher. 

{4186.)  Religion  is  the  Bread  of  Life.  I  wish 
we  better  appreciated  the  force  of  this  expression. 
I  remember  what  bread  was  to  me  when  1  was  a 
boy.  I  could  not  wait  till  I  was  dressed  in  the 
morning,  but  ran  and  cut  a  slice  from  the  loaf — all 
the  way  round,  too,  to  keep  me  until  breakfast  ; 
and  at  breakfast,  if  diligence  in  eating  earned  wages, 
I  should  have  been  weil  paid.  And  then  I  could 
not  wait  for  dinner,  but  ate  again,  and  then  at 
dinner ;  and  I  had  to  eat  again  before  tea,  and  at 
tea;  and  lucky  if  I  didn't  eat  again  alter  that.  It 
was  bread,  bread  all  the  time  with  me,  bread  that 
I  lived  on  and  got  strength  Ironi.  Just  so  religion 
is  the  bread  of  life  ;  but  you  make  it  cake — you  put 
it  away  ir.  your  cupboard  and  never  use  it  but  when 
you  have  c^mvany.  You  cut  it  into  small  pieces 
and  put  It  on  china  plates,  and  pass  it  daintily 
round  instead  of  treating  it  as  bread  ;  common, 
Learty  bread,  to  be  used  every  hour. 

— Beecher. 

(4187.)  Religion  should  not  be  used  as  caulking, 
something  to  stuff  into  the  cracks  and  crevices  01  a 
man's  life  ;  but  it  should  be  regarded  and  used  as  the 
very  warp  and  woof  of  life.  — Beecher. 

2.  Yet  It  Is  not  to  engross  all  our  thoughts. 

(4 1 88.)  "  Whatsoever  you  do,  in  word  or  in  deed, 


do  all  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  But 
you  naturally  say,  "  We  shall  find  next  week  that  we 
shall  be  so  overwhelmed  with  the  pressure  of  busi- 
ness, we  shall  be  so  busy  from  early  morning  to  late 
at  night  that  we  can  scarcely  get  time  to  think 
about  leligion."  I  do  not  prescribe  that  when  you 
are  making  an  article  of  commerce,  or  summing  up 
your  accounts,  or  prescribing  as  a  physician,  or 
drawing  up  a  case  as  a  solicitor,  or  pleading  at  the 
bar  as  a  barrister,  at  every  moment,  and  at  every  step, 
and  continually,  you  are  to  feel  a  sense  of  God's  pre- 
sence. That  cannot  be.  You  are  so  absorbed,  as 
common  sense  shows,  doing  the  thing  that  is  given 
you,  that  you  cannot  have  the  thought  of  God  and 
religion  like  a  continuous  presence.  But,  neverthe- 
less, you  may  be  doing  all  to  the  Lord,  and  doing  it 
wholly  lor  Him. 

For  instance,  a  father  goes  into  a  distant  land  to 
toil  because  he  cannot  get  bread  for  his  family  at 
home.  He  labours  in  that  land  :  he  is  busy, 
perhaps,  sowing  or  ploughing  for  twelve  hours 
together.  He  thinks  of  nothing  but  of  the  furrows, 
the  seeds,  or  the  plough,  or  the  harrow,  and  all  the 
demands  of  agriculture.  But,  nevertheless,  the 
reason  for  his  being  there,  the  motive  power  of 
his  being  there,  is  to  find  bread  for  his  family. 
So  you  may  be  busy  all  day  in  traffic,  in  com- 
meice,  in  business,  in  trade.  You  may  not,  from 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  six  o'clock  at  night, 
have  the  thoughts  of  religion,  because  you  are 
utterly  absorbed  in  the  business  that  is  before  you. 
But  the  reason  of  your  duing  that  business,  when 
you  look  back,  and  the  reason  why  you  are  engaged 
in  that  business,  when  you  look  forward,  is  that  you 
may  do  God's  will  in  that  sphere,  place,  and  pro- 
vince in  which  His  providence  has  placed  you  ;  and 
while  fervent  in  spirit  and  diligent  in  business  you 
are  serving  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Or,  to  take  another  illustration,  a  minister  of 
Christ  may  be  anxious  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  a 
Greek  or  Hebrew  word.  If  you  call  upon  him,  he 
is  searching  two  or  three  hours  in  different  writers 
to  ascertain  the  derivation  and  application  of  this 
word.  For  at  least  half  a  dozen  hours  that  minister 
may  have  been  preparing  his  sermon,  and  yet  he 
has  been  so  busy  in  searching  out  that  word,  its 
derivation,  its  application,  its  usages,  that  he  has 
had  no  time  or  spare  thought  to  think  of  anything 
but  of  this  one  Hebrew  or  Greek  word,  and  all  its 
applications.  Nevertheless,  the  reason  why  he 
makes  the  search,  and  his  joy  when  he  has  con- 
cluded the  search,  arises  ultimately  from  his  desire 
to  win  souls,  and  to  spread  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 
So  with  you  ;  you  may  be  in  the  world,  whatever 
your  situation  or  employment  may  be  in  that  world, 
serving  Christ,  whilst  you  are  utterly  absorbed  for 
the  hour  or  two  in  the  business  that  is  before  you. 
And  if  you  were  not  to  attend  to  that  business 
with  all  your  energy,  you  would  soon  lose  your 
business,  and  the  opportunities  of  doing  service  to 
Christ's  cause,  or  good  to  mankind. 

— Cumming, 

(4189.)  To  have  God  and  the  things  of  eternity 
consciously  always  in  mind  is  impossible,  Theie 
is  no  provision,  either  in  nature  or  grace,  for  such 
a  state  of  things.  But  to  have  Him  in  ou"  hearts, 
as  the  goverinng  power  of  our  lives,  and  to  carry 
our  love  for  Him,  consciously  and  unconsciously,  as 
a  mother  carries  the  love  of  her  first-born  child,  is 
what  is  our  privilege  and  our  duty  to  do,  and  our 

2   ¥■ 


RELIGION. 


(    706    ) 


RELIGION. 


only  safety.  The  mother  thinks  of  ten  thousand 
things  which,  for  the  time,  tiiust  crowd  her  babe 
out  of  her  mind  ;  but  never  does  slie  get  free  of  the 
mfluence  that  her  love  for  him  has  over  her.  We 
must  make  these  natural  loves  our  teachers  of  how 
we  are  to  be  filled  with  the  love  of  God. 

— Beecher. 

(4190.)  Men  who  were  to  treat  their  social 
aflections  as  we  treat  our  religious  ones  would  be 
regarded  as  fools — and  with  reason.  While  we  are 
busied  with  the  pressing  affairs  of  life,  we  cannot 
feel  the  glow  of  religious  affection — nor  is  it  ex- 
pected. If,  when  the  pauses  of  business  come  (not 
when  we  pause  from  exhaustion,  but  in  the  leisure 
hours),  our  soul  gladly  returns  unio  its  love  ;  or  if, 
when  in  the  hurry  of  work  and  trade,  a  question  of 
principle  comes  up,  our  thoughts  glance  quickly 
God  ward,  and  -we  decide  as  in  Uis  presence,  we  need 
not  fear  that  we  are  in  a  cold,  backslidden  state, 
though  we  be,  indeed,  very  diligent  in  business. 
To  have  the  fear  of  the  Lord  always  before  one, 
it  is  not  necessary  that  one  should  be  always 
directly  thinking  of  Him,  or  of  spiritual  things. 
This  is  impossible  in  those  pauses  of  daily  life, 
where  it  is  our  duty  to  concentrate  thought  upon 
secular  concerns.  "Ye  cannot  serve  God  and 
mammon  "  has  been  perverted  to  mean  that  it  was 
unchristian  for  a  man  ever  to  give  his  whole 
attention  to  money-making. 

Now  the  whole  attention  of  a  man  must  be  given 
to  study  during  study  hours,  or  he  will  never  make 
a  scholar  ;  and  it  must  be  equally  given  to  business 
during  business  hours,  or  he  \\  ill  never  succeed  in 
the  proper  support  of  his  family  or  the  gospel. 
When  the  work  and  the  strain  is  over,  (hen  the  soul 
of  the  Christian  will  consciously  rejoice  in  the 
Lord. 

What  if  I,  on  awaking,  were  to  say — "Now  I 
will  love  my  family  witir  all  my  heart — nothing 
shall,  this  day,  interfere  with  my  love  for  them," 
and  were  then  to  go  into  a  furious  fervour  about  it, 
embracing  and  kissing  them,  and  declaring  my 
aflection  for  them.  I  might  try  to  work,  with  my 
mind  so  hotly  fixed  on  them,  but  I  could  not  do  it. 
1  should  soon  say — "  I  can't  hunt  up  these  texts,  I 
]  can't  write  these  sermons  ;  they  require  my  whole 
attention,  and  that  is  not  justice  to  my  wife  nnd 
children  ;  they  turn  away  my  thoughts  and  affec- 
tions from  my  family — 1  will  no  longer  try  to  work 
at  them."  I  then  impatiently  toss  books  and 
papers  aside,  and  devoting  myself  to  the  declarative 
form  of  love  for  my  family,  forget  all  else.  How 
much  good  shall  I  do  them  under  such  circum- 
stances ?  The  true  way  to  prove  my  love  for  them 
is,  to  devote  myself  steadily  to  some  way  of  sup- 
porting them.  Then,  at  the  season  of  relaxation 
from  work,  I  shall  be  sure  to  enjoy  them  and  their 
love.  Just  so  in  spiritual  matters;  for  the  family  is 
the  best  teacher  of  theology.  — Beecker. 

3.  It  is  to  be  exemplified  and  perfected  in  daily 
life. 

(4191.)  The  Christian  must  express  the  power  of 
holiness  in  his  particular  calling  and  worldly  em- 
ployments that  therein  he  is  conversant  with.  Holi- 
ness must  be  writ  upon  those  as  well  as  on  his 
religious  duties.  He  that  observes  the  law  of  build- 
ing is  as  exact  in  making  a  kitchen  as  in  making 
1.  parlour  :  so,  by  the  law  of  Christianity,  we  must 
be  as  exact  in  our  worldly  business  as  in  duties  of 
worship.     •♦Be  ye  holy  in  all  manner  of  conversa- 


tion "  (i  Pet.  1.  15).    We  must  not  leave  our  religion, 
as  some  do  their  Bibles,  at  church. 

The  Christian  is  not  to  buy  and  sell  as  a  mere 
man,  but  as  a  Christian  man.  Religion  is  not  like 
that  statesman's  gown,  which,  when  he  went  to  re- 
create himself,  he  would  throw  ofi'and  say,  "  There 
lie,  Lord  Treasurer,  awhile." 

— Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(4192.)  Some  men's  religion  is  like  the  electric 
jar,  condensed  and  charged  with  electricity.  Oa  a 
Sunday  it  sparkles  in  its  way,  and  every  one  says, 
"  How  religious  such  a  one  is  !  "  But  when  we  see 
the  same  man  in  the  world,  we  find  that  his  religion 
is  like  the  same  jar  discharged,  useless,  cold. 

— Cumniing. 

{4193.)  A  man  is  made  a  Christian  that  he  may 
Christianise.  A  candle  is  lighted  just  that  it  may 
be  luminous.  We  receive  just  that  we  may  give. 
The  monk,  the  nun,  the  anchorite,  if  lighted  at  all, 
which  is  questionable,  goes  each  into  a  convent  or 
nunnery,  and  thus  hides  his  light  under  a  bushel. 
The  Christian,  who  is  lighted,  goes  forth  into  the 
world,  and  lets  his  light  so  sliine  in  daily  life,  that 
others  seeing  his  good  works  may  glorify,  not  him, 
but  his  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  The  believer  is 
to  be  a  light,  and  the  light  of  all  the  world.  And 
the  world  shone  upon  by  such  light,  will  cease  to  be 
a  mere  workshop  in  which  man  gains  his  bread,  and 
will  rise  to  the  diunity  of  a  porch  and  a  vestibule  of 
heaven,  in  which  he  is  educated  for  God  and  glory. 

If  we  be  lights,  and  if  Christians  we  are  so,  we 
are  not  responsible  for  the  elevation  at  which  we 
are  placed.  We  are  each  a  light,  but  God  gives  the 
candlestick  ;  in  one  it  may  be  a  very  high  one,  in 
another  it  may  be  a  very  low  one  ;  what  we  are  re- 
i^ponsible  for  is  not  the  place  where  God  in  His 
providence  has  set  us,  or  the  elevation  at  which 
God  in  His  wisdom  has  placed  us,  but  for  filling  the 
sphere  which  we  hold  with  the  light  we  are. 

—  Cumtning. 

(4194.)  We  are  to  employ  the  world,  and  put  our 
bodies  into  it,  with  the  understanding  that  God  ha» 
made  all  secular  things  as  means  of  grace  to  us. 

I  would  like  to  know  what  use  there  is  in  a  man's 
learning  navigation  from  books  if  he  is  never  allowed 
to  steer  a  ship.  The  ship  is  the  place  for  hiin  to 
practise  the  theories  be  gets  in  books.  What  is  the 
use  of  what  a  man  learns  from  lectures  on  organic 
chemistry  and  agriculture  if  he  is  never  allowed  to 
plough  a  furrow  or  cultivate  a  crop  ?  The  field  is 
the  place  for  him  to  practise  the  knowledge  he  has 
acquired  in  the  laboratory.  Of  what  advantage 
would  be  the  drilling  received  by  the  cadet  in  a 
military  academy  if  he  was  never  to  command  a 
force,  was  never  to  lay  down  a  camp,  and  was  never 
to  open  a  campaign  ?  The  campaign  is  the  place 
for  him  to  put  into  practice  the  things  he  has  learned 
in  the  rooms  of  the  academy. 

God  designed  the  sanctuary,  the  lecture-room, 
and  the  Bible  as  the  places  where  we  are  to  learn 
what  we  are  to  do  and  to  be,  and  the  world  as  the 
place  where  we  are  to  do  it  and  to  be  it.  You  are 
not  to  practise  patience  here — except  the  patience 
of  sitting  still  during  preaching.  I'he  world  is  the 
place  God  has  provided  in  which  you  are  to  practise 
patience,  where  there  are  things  to  vex  and  try  your 
patience.  It  is  well  enough  to  preach  about 
patience,  and  pride,  and  vanity  ;  but  here  is  not 
the  place  for  you  to  apply  the  precepts  taught  j'ou 


RELIGION. 


(    707     ) 


RELIGION. 


concerning  these  things.  You  can  never  practise 
them  till  you  go  out  into  life  ;  wheie  your  vanity  is 
excoriated,  your  pride  is  touched,  and  your  patience 
is  taxed.  The  voice  of  God  says,  "  Let  paiience 
have  her  perfect  work  ;  "  but  nowhere  exceiit  in  ilie 
world,  where  it  is  assailed  on  every  hand,  can 
patience  have  her  perfect  work.  — Beecher, 

4.  The  trials  and  temptations  of  life  may  be 

made  helpful  to  it. 

(4195.)  We  cannot  become  strong  in  Christian 
virtues  without  being  exposed  to  the  temptations 
and  trials  of  life. 

If  you  want  to  make  a  child  strong  and  self-de- 
pendent, you  push  him  out  into  the  world  to  breast 
its  storms  ;  and  when  he  comes  back  whimpering, 
and  well-nigh  discouraged,  the  father,  the  mother, 
the  brothers,  and  the  sisters  all  cry  out,  "  For 
shame  1  for  shame  ! "  and  he  is  sent  forth  again  to 
meet  the  hardships  that  he  dreads.  And  you  ought 
to  treat  yourselves,  in  spiritual  things,  precisely  as 
you  treat  your  children  in  worldly  things. 

Your  store,  your  office,  your  shop,  your  family, 
your  neighbourhood,  the  street  —  these  are  not  so 
many  things  that  you  must  resist  for  the  sake  of 
grace  ;  on  the  contrary,  you  must  deal  with  them  as 
the  means  of  grace.  I  tell  you  that  although  there 
is  great  blessing  in  a  prayer-meeting,  no  prayer- 
meeting  on  earth  is  such  a  means  of  grace  as  a 
man's  own  store.  What  do  you  talk  about  in 
prayer-meetings?  About  the  theory  of  Christian 
life.  The  substance  of  it  you  must  attain  in  your 
contact  with  the  world.  You  come  to  the  prayer- 
meeting  on  Friday  night,  and  say,  "  iVly  mind  is 
obscured.  I  do  not  get  that  peace  which  I  wish  ; " 
or  something  of  that  sort.  It  is  all  general.  You 
go  out  into  the  world,  and  Satan  says  to  you,  "  Be 
proud."  Your  minister  says  to  you,  "  Be  humble." 
You  stand  between  God  and  the  devil  continu- 
ally. One  says,  "  Be  meek  ;"  the  other  says,  "  Be 
haughty."  One  says,  "Forgive;"  the  other  says, 
"Punish."  One  says,  "Lift  up  ;"  the  other  says, 
"Sink  down."  Every  where,  and  from  morning  till 
night,  you  have  a  prepared  state  of  circumstances 
in  which  is  arising,  for  evermore,  for  your  adjudica- 
tion, a  question  between  right  and  wrong,  purity 
and  impurity,  holiness  and  sin.  Life  itself  is  God's 
ordinance,  and  the  world  is  God's  cathedral,  and 
afl'airs  are  God's  ordained  priests,  and  you  are  the 
members  of  God's  great  Church  ;  and  if  you  do  not 
grow  in  grace  in  secular  drill,  you  will  not  any  way  ! 

— Beecher. 

B  It  is  not  to  be  divorced  from  business. 

(4196.)  Tlie  stream  of  life  forks;  and  religion  is 
apt  to  run  in  one  channel,  and  business  in  another. 

— Beecher, 

(4197.)  Kelioion  is  the  holiness  of  right  action  ; 
and  you  are  religious  just  in  the  proportion  that 
you  work  up  every  part  of  your  life  into  the  one 
presiding  practice  of  loving  God  and  loving  man. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  making  religion  religion, 
and  busmess  business  ;  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
man's  being  a  holy  man  in  the  sanctuary  and  a  cheat- 
ing man  in  tlie  store  ;  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
man's  being  a  pure  spiritual  man  in  the  church,  and 
a  tricking  politician  in  the  caucus.  If  you  are  an 
impure  nian  in  the  store,  you  are  an  impure  man 
in  the  sanctuary.  If  you  are  without  principle  in 
the  caucus,  you  are  without  principle  in  the  church. 


When  you  get  an  apjile  that  is  half  rotten,  the  othei 
half  being  as  good  a=,  though  the  whole  were  sound, 
then  you  can  gel  a  Cllri^lian  that  is  rotten  on  one 
side,  who  is  as  good  on  the  other  side  as  if  both 
sides  were  good.  -—-Beecher. 

(4198.)  The  tides  come  twice  a-day  .c  New  York 
harbour,  but  they  only  come  once  m  se\\:n  days  in 
God's  harbour  of  the  sanctuary.  They  rise  on 
Sunday,  but  ebb  on  Monday,  and  are  down  and 
out  all  the  rest  of  the  week.  Men  write  over  their 
store  door  "  Business  is  business,"  and  over  the 
church  door  "Religion  is  reHgion  ;"  and  they  say 
to  religion,  "Never  come  in  here,"  and  to  business, 
"Never  go  in  tlierc."  "Let  us  have  no  secular 
things  in  the  pulpit,"  they  say;  "we  get  enough  of 
them  through  the  week  in  New  York.  There  all 
is  stringent  and  biting  selfishness,  and  knives,  and 
probes,  and  lancets,  and  huny,  and  work,  and  worry. 
Here  we  want  repose,  and  sedatives,  and  healing 
balm.  All  is  prose  over  there  ;  here  let  ushave  poetry. 
We  want  to  sing  hymns  and  to  hear  about  heaven 
and  Calvary  ;  in  short,  we  want  the  pure  gosiiel, 
without  any  worldly  intermixture."  And  so  they  ■ 
desire  to  spend  a  pious,  quiet  Sabbath,  full  of 
pleasant  imaginings  and  peaceful  reflections  ;  but 
when  the  day  is  gone,  all  is  laid  aside.  They  will 
take  by  the  throat  the  first  debtor  whom  they  meet, 
and  exclaim,  "  Pay  me  what  thou  owest  !  It  is 
Monday."  And  when  the  minister  ventures  to 
hint  to  them  something  about  their  duty  to  their 
fellownien,  they  say,  "  Oh,«  you  stick  to  your 
preaching.  You  do  not  know  how  to  collect  your 
own  debts,  and  cannot  tell  what  a  man  may  have 
to  do  in  his  intercourse  with  the  world."  God's 
law  is  not  allowed  to  go  into  the  week.  If  the 
merchant  spies  it  in  his  store,  he  throws  it  ovei 
the  counter.  If  the  clerk  sees  it  in  the  bank,  he 
kicks  it  out  at  the  door.  If  it  is  found  in  the 
street,  the  multitude  pursue  it,  pelting  it  with 
stones,  as  if  it  were  a  wolf  escaped  from  a  mena- 
gerie, and  shouting,  "  Back  with  you  !  You  have 
got  out  of  Sunday  !  "  There  is  no  religion  in  all 
this.  It  is  mere  sentimentalism.  Religion  belongs 
to  every  day  ;  to  the  place  of  business  as  much  as 
to  the  church. 

High  in  an  ancient  belfry  there  is  a  clock,  and 
once  a-week  the  oki  sexton  winds  it  up  ;  but  it  has 
neither  dial-plate  nor  hands.  The  pendulum  swings, 
and  there  it  goes,  ticking,  ticking,  day  in  and  day 
out,  unnoticed  and  useless.  What  the  old  clock  is, 
in  its  dark  chamber,  keeping  time  to  itself,  but 
never  showing  it,  that  is  the  mere  sentimentality  of 
religion,  high  above  life,  in  the  region  of  airy 
thought  ;  perched  up  in  the  top  of  Sunday,  •  but 
without  dial  or  pointer  to  let  the  week  know  what 
o'clock  it  is,  of  Time,  or  of  Eternity  !   — Beecher.       /■ 

6.  Is  not  Incompatible  with  business. 

(4199.)  There  are  some  who  tell  us  that  business 
and  religion  are  two  things  that  cannot  be  done  to- 
gether ;  that  men  cannot  give  their  mind  to  the  one 
without  taking  it  from  the  other.  And  so,  just  as 
the  Mohammedan  leaves  his  slippers  at  the  door  of 
the  mosque,  they  leave  their  religion  outside  their 
place  of  business,  and  do  not  take  it  with  them  into 
the  office  or  behind  the  counter.  With  many  it  is 
simply  a  matter  of  periodical  recurrence  ;  an  inter- 
mittent fountain  that  flows  one  day  in  seven,  and, 
as  the  Lord's  day  ends,  sinks  and  disappears.  Or, 
perhaps,  it  is  a  matter  for  early  morning,  before  the 


RELIGIOl^r. 


(    708    ) 


RELIGION. 


business  of  the   day  be<;iiis;  and  for  the  evening, 
when  thai  business  is  over  ;  but  not  for  the  time  of 

business. 

Had  Daniel  no  press  of  business  on  his  liands? 
Were  the  affairs  ol  the  vast  Persian  Empire  a  small 
nialter  ?  Were  the  accounts  of  a  hundred  and  twenty 
provinces  few  or  simple?  Was  it  an  easy  task  to 
overlook,  and  check,  and  control  them,  as  was 
Daniel's  daily  business  ?  and  this,  too,  with  men  for 
his  associates  at  the  council-board  wiio  were  bent 
on  hindering  and  not  on  helping  liim,  and  with  the 
head  of  every  province  his  jealous,  watchful  enemy  ? 
Yet  Daniel,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  mass  of  impor- 
tant and  difficult  work,  found  time  for  liaily  prayer; 
and  not  only  at  evening  and  in  the  morning  did  he 
pray  to  his  God,  but  at  midday  he  got  away  from 
his  press  of  work  to  give  thanks  to  Him  and  seek 
the  continuance  of  His  help.  If,  then,  Daniel, 
on  whose  shoulders  the  chief  weight  of  the  business 
of  an  empire  rested,  could  be  truly  religious,  any 
man  can  be  so  too  ;  and  business  and  religion  are 
not  incompatible.  — Chavipneys. 

7.  Its  ftmction  is  to  sanctify  and  ennoble  busi- 
ness. 

(4200.)  Piety  does  not  retreat  from  business,  but 
it  seizes  business,  sanctifies  it,  and  makes  it  sacred. 
The  gosjiel  of  Jesus  is  not  to  be  a  voice  crying  in 
the  desert,  like  that  of  John  the  Baptist  ;  but  if  I 
understand  religion,  it  is  to  open  a  shop,  it  is  to 
freight  ships,  it  is  to  keep  accounts,  it  is  to  write  up 
your  ledgers,  it  is  to  wear  an  apron  till  it  be  as 
holy  as  a  bishop's  sleeve,  and  to  wield  a  spade  as 
responsibly  and  devoutly  as  a  monarch  sways  a 
sceptre.  The  true  characteristic  of  religion  is  to 
go  down  into  everything,  rise  up  to  the  highest, 
till,  like  the  atmosphere,  it  embraces  all  in  its 
beneficent  and  Us  beautiful  folds. 

~Cumining. 

(4201.)  The  Christian  is  not  to  be  a  worse  trades- 
man because  of  his  religion,  but  a  betier  ;  he  is 
not  to  be  a  less-skilled  mechanic,  but  he  is  to  be  all 
the  more  careful  in  his  work.  It  were  a  pity 
indeed  if  Paul's  tents  were  the  worst  in  the  store, 
and  Lydia'3  purple  of  the  poorest  dye. 

— Spiirgeon. 

(4202.)  It  is  well  known  that  Havelock's  endea- 
vours, vvlien  a  lieutenant  in  the  I3ih  regiment,  to 
promote  the  social  and  spiritual  welfare  of  the  men 
under  his  care,  brought  down  upon  him  showers  of 
ridicule,  and  that  he  was  jeered  at  for  his  "  enthu- 
siasm." But  it  was  admitted  on  all  hands  that  no 
soldiers  were  more  orderly  or  steady,  or  more  ready 
.♦■or  duty  than  his.  "This,"  says  his  biographer, 
"was  singularly  exemplified  on  one  occasion.  A 
sudden  attack  was  made  on  an  outpost  at  night, 
and  Sir  Archibald  Campbell  ordered  up  some  men 
of  another  corps  to  support  it.  But  they  had  been 
driid<ing  to  excess,  and  were  not  prepared.  'Then 
call  out  Havelock's  saints,'  he  exclaimed;  'they 
are  always  sober,  and  can  be  depended  on,  and 
Havelock  himself  is  always  ready  !  '  The  'saints' 
got  under  arms  with  promptitude,  and  the  enemy 
were  at  once  repulsed."  At  a  later  period,  and 
after  he  had  joined  the  Baptist  denomination,  his 
religious  meetmgs  among  the  men  excited  both 
ridicide  and  enmity  among  his  brother  officers. 
A  feeling  of  opposition  to  him  grew  up  in  his 
regiment  ;  and  when  it  was  reported  that  one  of 
the  "  samts  "  had  been  found  drunk,  it  was  leadily 


made  a  theme  for  bitter  jest  against  him.  Have- 
lock was  ill  at  the  time,  but  on  his  rcjovery  he 
requested  an  investigation  of  the  case,  when  it  was 
discovered  that  there  were  two  men  of  the  same 
name  in  different  companies,  and  that  the  man  who 
was  intoxicated  neither  belonged  to  his  company, 
nor  assembled  with  his  congregation.  Havelock 
was  of  course  gratified  and  his  enemies  silenced  by 
this  discovery,  but  still  more  so  by  the  words  of  the 
Colonel,  afterwards  Sir  Robert  Sale:  "I  know 
nothing  about  Baptists,  but  I  know  I  wish  the 
whole  regiment  were  Baptists  ;  for  their  names 
are  never  in  the  defaulters'  roll,  and  they  are  never 
in  the  lock-up  house."  Such  a  testimony  was 
worth  winning,  nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  if  such 
were  the  results  of  his  religious  teaching  combined 
with  a  strict  attention  to  duty  and  discipline  among 
his  men,  that  even  "worklly  men  tolerated  the 
saint  in  their  admiration  of  the  soldier." 

IX.  IS   OF    UNIVERSAL    OBLIGATIOIT. 
(4203.)  Every  man  is  bound  to  perform  the  duties 

which  religion  requires,  and  one  man  as  much  as 
another.  Many  men  seem  to  feel  that  the  obliga- 
tions of  religion  are  the  result  of  a  voluntary  cove- 
nant, compact,  or  promise,  like  a  contract  for  carrying 
the  mail,  or  for  excavating  so  many  miles  of  a  canal. 
They  seem  to  suppose  that  there  is  nothing  lying 
back  of  a  profession  of  religion  to  oblige  any  one 
to  attend  to  its  duties,  any  more  than  there  is  to 
bind  a  man  to  enlist  as  a  soldier,  or  to  enter  into 
a  contract  for  building  a  bridge.  When  a  profession 
of  religion  has  been  made,  they  admit  it  to  be 
binding.  They  are  disposed  to  hold  profes.sors  to 
the  most  rigid  fulfilment  of  the  conditions  of  that 
profession  ;  and  they  resolve  that  if  they  themselves 
ever  enter  into  such  a  covenant  with  God,  they 
will  be  as  faithful  to  that  compact  as  they  are  to 
others.  Now,  Christians  do  nof  object  to  being 
held  to  the  most  faithful  performance  of  the  duties 
of  religion,  growing  out  of  the  voluntary  covenant 
which  they  have  made  with  God.  They  believe 
that  God  Himself  will  hold  them  to  it,  and  that 
a  profession  of  religion,  vieweti  in  this  aspect,  and 
in  all  otheis,  is  a  most  serious  matter.  But  it  is 
not  the  profession  of  religion  which  creates  the 
obligation,  for  that  existed  before  any  such  pro- 
fession was  made.  The  profession  of  religion  only 
recognises  the  obligation.  To  make  such  a  pro- 
fession is  not  like  making  a  contract  to  build  a 
house  or  to  perform  the  duty  of  a  day-labourer;  it 
pertains  to  acts  similar  to  the  duty  which  a  child 
owes  to  a  paient,  or  a  man  to  his  country,  or  which 
we  all  owe  to  the  poor  and  the  oppressed.  With, 
or  without  a  covenant,  we  are  bound  to  the  per- 
formance of  those  duties ;  and  though  there  are 
advantages  in  such  a  voluntary  covenant  and  pledge, 
as  there  were  in  these  "  times  that  tried  men's  souls  " 
in  the  American  revolution,  when  our  fathers  jdedged 
to  their  country  "their  lives  and  their  fortune,"  yet 
the  obligation  to  those  duties  is  not  originated  by 
the  covenant,  but  exists  whether  any  such  compaot 
has  been  entered  into  or  not.  The  worship  of  God, 
repentance,  faith  in  the  Redeemer,  a  life  of  piety, 
the  grateful  acknowledgment  of  mercies, — can  any 
plead  exemption  from  tliese  duties  ? 

— Barnes,  l79S-l87a 

X.  ITS    GROWTH   IN    THE   SOUL. 

1.  Its  feeble  beginnings  are  not  to  be  despised. 
(4204.)  '1  hey  lead  on  to  great  and  glorious  attain- 


RELIGION. 


(    709    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


ments.  The  traveller  who  has  just  been  journeying 
amidst  the  gloom  of  midnight  despises  not  the 
little  luminous  streak  above  the  eastern  hills,  for 
he  knows  that  it  is  the  glimmering  token  of 
advancing  day.  The  husbandman  who  has  sown 
the  precious  grain  despises  not  the  downy  verdure 
which  first  appears  just  above  the  clods,  for  in  that 
he  sees  the  future  harvest  which  is  to  repay  his  toil. 
The  mother  despises  not  the  helpless  babe  to  which 
she  has  given  birth,  for  in  that  feeble  and  uncon- 
scious child  she  knows  there  are  the  germs  of  fancy, 
reason,  will,  and  multiform  affections,  which  shall 
grow  with  his  growth,  and  streniL^then  with  his 
strength,  and  which,  by  the  fruits  of  their  maturity, 
may  bless  and  astonish  the  world.  So  it  is  in 
religion;  little  things  advance  to  great  ones.  Baxter 
and  Owen,  and  Howe,  and  Doddridge  were  once 
babes  rn  Christ,  and  so,  indeed,  were  Paul,  and 
Pe'er,  and  John.  When  the  conversion  of  a  sinner 
takes  place,  no  mind  but  that  which  grasps  eternity, 
can  foresee  the  career  of  usefulness  and  holiness 
which  a  convert  may  have  to  run.  In  every  case 
of  real  conversion,  there  will  be  a  progress  Irom  a 
sinner  to  a  penitent ;  from  a  penitent  to  a  believer; 
from  a  believer  to  a  saint ;  from  a  saint  to  a  seraph. 
He  shall  "add  to  his  faith  virtue;  and  to  virtue 
knowledge;  and  to  knowledge  temperance  ;  and  to 
tempeiance  patience;  and  to  patience  godliness;  and 
to  godliness  brotherly  kindness  ;  and  to  brotlierly 
kindness  charity."  The  first  dawn  of  spiritual  know- 
ledge in  the  understanding  is  the  kindling  of  a  holy 
luminary  whicli  shall  receive,  and  reflect,  asasatellite, 
the  splendour  of  the  fountain  light,  infinite  ages  after 
the  sun  is  quenched  in  darkness.  The  first  tasting 
that  the  Lord  is  gracious,  is  the  incipient  operation  of 
a  capacity  for  bliss,  which  shall  continue  to  receive 
ineffable  delight,  when  all  the  sources  of  sensual 
gratification  shall  have  perislied  for  ever.  In  the 
train  of  even  weak  grace,  if  it  be  real,  shall  follow 
all  the  more  mature  virtues  of  Christianity ;  all 
that  the  Father  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love 
Him  ;  all  that  the  Son  hath  procured  by  the  agonies 
of  the  cross;  all  the  mercies  of  the  covenant  of 
redemption  ;  all  the  riches  of  grace ;  all  the  exceed- 
ing and  eternal  weight  of  glory;  in  short,  blessing-;, 
inlmite  and  eternal.  Le'  not  the  commencement 
of  religion,  therefore,  be  treated  with  neglect. 

— -James. 

2.  The  means  by  whicli  it  is  fostered  are  ou  no 
account  to  toe  neglected. 

(4205.)  Were  it  not  strangely  absurd  and  unhand- 
some to  say,  I  cannot  wait  on  God,  because  1  must 
sjxrak  with  a  friend  ;  I  cannot  go  to  church, 
although  God  calleth  me  thither,  because  1  must 
haste  to  market ;  I  cannot  stand  to  pray  because  I 
am  to  receive  money,  or.  to  make  up  a  bargain  ;  I 
cannot  discharge  my  duty  to  God,  because  a  greater 
obligation  than  that  doth  lie  upon  me?  How 
inconceivable  an  honour,  how  invaluable  a  benefit 
is  it,  that  the  incomprehensibly  great  and  glorious 
Majesty  of  heaven  doth  vouchsale  us  the  liberty  to 
ap|)roach  so  near  unto  Him,  to  converse  so  freely 
with  Him,  to  demand  and  derive  from  His  hand 
the  supply  of  all  our  needs  and  satisfaction  of  all 
our  reasonable  desires  !  and  is  it  then  just  or  seemly, 
by  such  comparisons  to  disparage  His  favour,  by 
such  pretences  to  baffle  with  His  goodness  ? 

I'ut  the  case :  our  prince  should  call  for  us  to 
^)eak  with  him  about  matters  nearly  louchmg  his 
service  and  our   welfa"« ;    would  it  be  acco  ding 


unto  duty,  discretion,  or  decency,  to  reply  that  w« 
are  at  present  busy  and  have  no  leisure,  and  must 
therefore  hold  ourselves  excused  ;  but  that,  if  he 
will  stay  awhile,  at  another  time,  when  we  have 
less  to  do  we  shall  be  perhaps  disposed  to  wait 
upon  him?  The  case  is  propounded  by  our  Lord 
in  that  parable  wherein  God  is  represented  as  a 
great  man  that  had  hitherto  prepared  a  feast  and 
invited  many  guests  thereto ;  but  they  excused 
tliemselves  :  One  said  that  he  had  purchased 
land,  and  must  needs  go  out  to  see  it  ;  another 
had  bought  five  yoke  of  oxen,  and  must  go  to  prove 
them  ;  another  had  married  a  wife,  and  therefore 
could  not  come.  These  indeed  were  affairs  con- 
siderable as  this  world  hath  any  ;  but  yet  the 
excuses  did  not  satisfy  ;  for,  notwithstanding,  the 
great  person  was  angry,  and  took  the  neglect  in 
huge  disdain.  — Barrow,  1 630-1677. 


REPENTANCE. 

I.   ITS  NA  TURE. 

(4206.)  Repentance  is  a  true  returning  unto  God  ; 
whereby  men,  forsaking  utterly  their  idolatry  and 
wickedness,  do  with  a  lively  faith  embrace,  love, 
and  worship  the  true,  living  God  only,  and  give 
themselves  to  all  manner  of  good  works,  which  by 
God's  Word  they  know  to  be  acceptable  unto  Him. 
Now  there  be  four  parts  of  repentance  (contrition, 
confession,  faith,  amendment  of  life),  which,  being 
set  together,  may  be  likened  to  an  easy  and  short 
ladder,  whereby  we  may  climb  from  the  bottom- 
less pit  of  perdition  up  into  the  castle  or  tower  of 
eternal  and  endless  salvation. 

— Hoiiiilies  of  the  English  Church. 

(4207.)  None  know  what  repentance  is  but  a 
repentant  sinner.  All  the  books  in  the  world  can- 
not inform  the  heart  what  sin  is  or  what  sorrow  is. 
A  sick  man  knows  wliat  a  disease  is  bettei  than  all 
physicians,  for  he  feels  it. 

— Sibhes,  1577-1635. 

(4208.)  Repentance  is  a  simple  operation  of  the 
mind  understood  by  all  persons,  and  in  some  form 
practised  by  all.  You  cannot  find  a  person  who 
at  some  time  has  not  exerci-ed  repentance.  You 
cannot  find  a  child  who  needs  to  be  told  what  is 
meant  by  being  required  to  repent  when  he  has 
done  a  wrong  thing ;  and  in  the  emotions  of  a 
child,  when  he  feels  sorry  that  he  has  done 
wrong,  and  who  resolves  to  make  confession  of  it 
and  to  do  so  no  more,  you  have  the  elements  of  all 
that  God  requires  of  man  as  a  condition  of  salva- 
tion. 

You  have  broken  the  commands  of  a  father. 
His  law  was  plain,  his  will  was  clear.  When  the 
deed  is  performed,  you  reflect  on  what  you  have 
done.  You  see  that  his  commands  were  right  ; 
that  you  have  done  wrong  by  breaking  his  law ; 
and  have  incurred  his  just  displeasure.  He  has 
always  treated  you  kindly ;  his  commands  have 
never  been  unreasonable  ;  and  you  cannot  justify 
yourself  in  what  you  have  done.  You  see  that  you 
have  clone  wrong.  By  a  law  of  your  nature  you 
feel  pain  or  distress  that  you  did  the  wrong.  You 
resolve  that  you  will  go  and  confess  it,  and  that 
you  will  do  so  no  more.  This  is  repentance  ;  and 
this  is  the  whole  of  it. 

You  have  a  fiiend.      He  has  a  thousand  times 


REPENTANCE. 


(    710    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


Uld  in  a  thousand  ways  laid  you  under  obligation. 
He  has  helped  you  in  pecuniary  distress,  shared 
your  losses ;  attended  you  in  sickness  ;  defended 
your  reputation  when  attacked.  He  himself,  in 
turn,  suffers.  Wicked  men  blacken  and  delame 
his  character,  and  a  cloud  rolls  upon  him  and 
overwhelms  him.  In  an  evil  hour  your  mind  is 
poisoned,  and  you  forget  all  that  he  has  done  for 
you,  and  you  join  in  the  prevalent  suspicion  and 
error  in  regard  to  him,  and  give  increased  currency 
to  the  slantlerous  reports.  Subsequently  you  reflect 
that  it  was  all  wrong  ;  that  you  acted  an  ungrateful 
part;  that  you  suft'ered  your  mind  to  be  too  easily 
influenced  to  forget  your  benefactor,  and  that  you 
have  done  him  great  and  lasting  injury.  You  are 
pained  at  the  heart.  You  resolve  that  you  will 
go  to  him  and  make  confession,  and  that  you  will 
implore  forgiveness,  and  that  you  will  endeavour  as 
far  as  possible  to  undo  the  evil.  This  is  repent- 
ance ;  and  this  is  all.  Let  these  simple  elements 
be  transferred  to  God  and  to  religion,  and  you  have 
all  that  is  included  in  repentance. 

— Barnes,  1 798-1870. 

{4209.)  It  is  so  important  that  you  should  rightly 
understand  the  nature  of  rejientance  that  I  must 
tell  you  of  one  more  fact  which  seems  to  illustrate 
it.  It  is  a  part  of  the  history  of  a  good  and  faith- 
ful old  servant,  who  told  it  to  me  himself.  I  will 
repeat  it  to  you  in  the  shortest  and  simplest  way 
1  can. 

Said  he  :  "  When  I  was  about  sixteen  years  old, 
1  had  one  of  the  kindest  and  best  masters  that  ever 
lived  I  was  his  dining-room  servant,  and  attended 
to  all  his  personal  wants.  One  day,  in  the  hot 
month  of  August,  my  master  returned  from  a  ride 
on  tlie  farm,  very  sick.  He  called  me  to  help  him 
from  his  hoise,  and  told  me  1  must  put  him  to  bed, 
and  go  for  the  physician.  In  a  few  days,  my 
master  grew  worse,  and  the  family  began  to  be 
very  uneasy  about  him.  I  loved  my  master,  and 
stayed  constantly  in  his  room.  One  morning  he 
turned  to  me,  and  said,  '  George,  I  am  very  sick, 
I  wish  you  would  take  that  note  on  the  table,  and 
go  off  to  the  apothecary's  in  the  village,  and  bring 
the  medicines  the  physician  has  written  for.'  As 
I  was  about  going,  there  were  other  commissi(jns 
given  me  ;  some  Irom  my  mistress,  some  from  the 
young  ladies,  and  some  from  the  servants.  In 
attending  to  all  these,  I  by  some  means  or  other 
lost  the  note  for  the  medicine.  1  was  greatly 
troubled  about  it,  and  looked  for  it  a  long  time. 
But  I  was  obliged  to  come  back  without  the 
medicine.  As  I  was  on  the  way  home,  I  said  to 
myself,  'What  shall  I  tell  my  master?  What 
excuse  shall  I  give  ?  To  tell  him  that  I  have  lost 
the  note  wiH  make  him  think  that  I  am  very  care- 
less.' So  I  determined  to  say  to  him  that  tliere 
was  no  medicine  of  that  kind  to  be  iiad  in  the 
village.  When  I  reached  home,"  saitl  George,  "I 
went  into  my  master's  chamber.  He  turned  his 
eyes  toward  me,  and  said  in  a  kind  tone,  '  Well, 
George,  I  am  glad  you  have  come;  1  hope  you 
have  brought,  the  medicine.'  *  No,  sir,'  said  1,  "the 
medicine  is  not  to  be  had  in  the  village.  The 
apothecary  said  he  had  none  of  that  kind.'  '  I  am 
sorry  for  it.'  said  my  master,  '  the  want  of  that 
medicine  may  be  the  means  of  laying  me  in  my 
grave.'  That  night  my  master's  fever  increased. 
The  next  morning  ihe  physician  was  sent  for  again. 
He  gave  other  niedicmes.    But  they  did  not  answer 


the  purpose.  It  was  too  late.  My  master  wai 
certainly  getting  worse.  I  stood  by  his  bedside," 
said  George,  "and  watched  his  pale  face,  and  tha 
big  drops  of  sweat  that  stood  on  his  brow,  and 
heard  his  short  breathing  as  he  was  sinking  rapidly 
into  the  arms  of  death.  Then  I  began  to  see  and 
feel  the  wickedness  of  the  falsehood  I  had  told  hi.n. 
I  shall  never  forget  one  scene  in  my  master's  dying 
hour.  Once  he  turned  his  eyes  on  me,  and  saitl, 
'  George,  be  a  good  boy.  Be  faithful  and  affec- 
tionate to  your  mistress,  and  when  I  am  buried  in 
the  earth  do  not  forget  me.'  My  heart  felt  then 
as  if  it  would  burst  with  grief.  I  said  to  myself, 
'  I  am  the  cause  of  my  master's  death.  Had  1  told 
the  truth,  and  taken  back  another  note  for  the 
medicine,  my  master  might  have  lived.*  I  thought 
of  his  kindness  to  me,  and  of  my  sin  and  ingrati- 
tude to  him.  I  felt  that,  if  the  world  were  mine,  I 
would  give  it  to  take  back  what  I  had  done.  I 
wanted  to  fall  then  on  my  knees  and  confess  my 
crime  unto  him,  and  beg  his  forgiveness.  But  it 
was  too  iate.  He  was  dead.  As  I  saw  his  eyes 
close,  my  conscience  said,  'Your  master  died  lor 
the  want  of  that  medicine.'  Many  years  have 
passed  away  since  that  day,"  said  George,  "and 
now  I  ;  m  an  old  man.  But  I  have  never  forgotten 
that  day.  I  never  can  forget  it.  I  have  mourned 
over  it,  and  will  go  on  to  mourn  over  it.  I  have 
ever  since  hated  a  lie,  and  have  never  wilfully  told 
one.  I  have  tried,  in  every  way,  to  shun  even  the 
appearance  of  that  sin.  When  1  die,  I  hope  I  shall 
meet  my  master  in  heaven,  that  I  may  there  ask 
his  forgiveness  for  the  injury  I  have  done  him." 

Now  this  seems  to  me  to  be  a  picture  of  true 
repentance.  This  old  man  was  deeply  distressed 
because  he  had  sinned  against  a  good  master.  His 
distress  did  not  arise  from  the  mere  fear  of  punish- 
ment, for  no  one  knew  that  he  had  told  the  lie  ;  no 
one  wished  to  punish  him  for  it.  He  was  grieved 
because  his  sin  had,  probably,  been  the  cause  of 
his  master's  deatli.  'i'his  is  just  what  every  sinner 
leels  when  he  truly  repents  of  his  sins." 

— Meadt. 

II.    ITS  NECESSITY. 

1.  To  secure  us  against  the  judgments  of  God. 
(4210.)  There  is  no  other  fortification  against  the 

judgments  of  God  but  repentance.  His  lorces  be 
invisible,  invincible  ;  not  repelled  with  sword  and 
target ;  neither  portcullis  nor  lortress  can  keep 
them  out  ;  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  can 
encounter  them  but  repentance.  — Adams,  1653. 

2.  To  our  restoration  to  His  favour. 

(421 1.)  That  man  is  not  fit  to  be  forgiven  who 
is  so  far  from  being  sorij  lor  his  fault  that  he  goes 
on  to  offend.  He  is  utterly  incapable  of  mercy  who 
is  not  sensible  that  he  hath  done  amiss,  and  resolved 
to  amend.  No  prince  ever  thought  a  rebellious 
subject  capable  of  pardon  upon  lower  terms  than 
these.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  the  thing  unfit  that  an 
obstinate  oft'ender  should  have  any  mercy  or  favour 
shown  to  him.  — Tiliotson,  1630-1694. 

(4212.)  W^hen  wrong  has  been  done  among  men, 
the  only  way  to  obtain  again  the  favour  of  those 
who  have  been  injured,  is  by  repentance.  No  man 
who  has  done  evil  in  any  way  can  be  restored  to 
forfeited  favour,  but  by  just  this  process  ol  repent- 
ance— by  a  process  involving  all  the  elements  of 
grief,     shame,     remorse,     relurmation,     conlession, 


REPENTANCE, 


(    711    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


that  are  demanded  in  religion.  Let  us  recur  to 
some  of  the  former  illustrations.  You  are  a  father. 
A  child  does  wion;:j.  He  violates  your  law,  offends 
you,  treats  you  with  disrespect  or  scorn.  He  goes 
abroad  and  represents  your  government  at  home  as 
severe,  and  gives  himself  up  to  unbridled  dissipation. 
Towards  that  son  you  cherish  still  all  a  lather's 
feelings,  but  I  may  appeal  to  any  such  unhappy 
parent  to  say  whether  he  would  admit  him  to  the 
same  degree  of  confidence  and  favour  as  before, 
without  some  evidence  of  repentance. 

You  have  a  friend.  You  thought  him  sincere, 
but  he  betrayed  you  ;  and  in  feeling,  and  property, 
in  character  you  have  been  made  to  suffer  by  liim. 
I  ask  any  man  whether  he  can  receive  such  a  friend 
again  to  his  bosom,  and  press  him  to  his  heart, 
without  some  evidence  of  regret  at  what  he  has 
done,  and  some  proof  that  he  will  not  do  it  again? 
You  cannot  do  it.  You  cannot  force  your  nature 
to  do  it.  The  sea  might  as  well  break  over  the 
iron-bound  shore,  or  the  riv^r  flow  back,  and  again 
climb  up  the  mountain  side  vjfhcre  it  leaped  down 
in  cascades,  as  for  you  to  do  it.  You  will  convince 
yourself,  in  some  way,  that  he  regrets  what  he  has 
done,  and  that  he  will  not  do  it  again,  or  you  can 
never  receive  him  again  with  the  confitlence  of  a 
friend.  Your  nature  is  as  firm  on  this  point  as  the 
everlasting  hills,  and  is,  in. this  respect,  but  tlie 
counterpart  and  image  of  God,  who  does  the  same 
thing. 

In  like  manner  it  is  with  those  who  have  com- 
mitted offences  against  a  community.  Of  the  man 
who  has  been  gudty  of  theft,  burglary,  arson,  or 
forgery,  and  who  has  been  sentenced  and  punished 
for  these  oftences,  the  community  demands  cvitlence 
that  he  has  repented  of  the  crime,  and  that  he 
purposes  to  do  so  no  more,  before  it  will  admit 
him  again  to  its  favour.  If  you  go  into  his  cell  and 
find  him  alone  on  his  knees  before  God  confessing 
the  sin  ;  if  you  see  in  him  the  evidence  of  regret 
and  sorrow  that  it  was  done  ;  if  you  believe  that  the 
reformation  is  entire  and  sincere,  tlie  community 
will  again  receive  him  to  its  bosom,  and  will 
forgive  and  forget  the  past ;  and  he  may  rise  to 
public  confidence,  and  even  to  influence  and  honour. 
But  if  none  of  these  things  are  seen,  if  he  spends 
the  years  of  his  sentence  sullen,  and  hardened,  and 
profane,  and  without  one  sigh  or  tear,  he  is  never 
iorgiven.  He  may  have  paid  the  penalty  of  the  law, 
but  he  is  not  forgiven,  and  he  goes  forth  to  meet 
the  frowns  of  an  indignant  community,  to  be 
watched  with  an  eagle  eye,  and  to  be  excluded  all 
his  life  from  the  affections  and  confidence  of  man- 
kind. 

Universally  it  is  true,  that  where  an  offence  has 
been  committed,  and  there  is  evidence  of  repentance, 
the  offender  may  be  restored  to  favour,  but  where 
there  is  no  regret,  shame,  the  curse  of  man,  and  of 
his  Maker,  alike  rest  upon  him. 

— Barnes^  1 798- 1870. 

S.  To  our  reaclilng  heaven. 

(4213.)  Reader,  didst  thou  never  know  of  any 
that  were  in  a  journey,  and  coming  to  some  deep, 
dirty,  potchy  lane,  ihey  thought  to  avoid  it,  and 
broke  over  the  hedge  into  the  field  ;  but  when 
they  had  rode  round  and  round  they  could  find  no 
way  out,  but  were  forced  to  go  out  where  they  got 
in  ;  and  then,  notwithstanding  their  unwdlingness, 
to  go  through  that  miry  lane,  or  else  not  go  that 
journey  ?     Truly  so  it  is  in  thy  iourney  to  heaven  ; 


thou  art  now  come  to  this  deep  lane  of  humiliation, 
through  which  all  must  go  that  will  reach  that  city 
"  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God."    Do  not  think 
to  avoid  it,  no,  not  the  least  pan  of  it  ;  for  this  is 
the  narrow  way  and  strait  gate  that  leadeth  to  life. 
— Swinnock,  1673. 
III.    ITS   POWER. 
1.  It  prevails  witli  God. 

(4214.)  Great  is  the  power  of  eloquence,  but 
never  is  it  so  great  as  when  it  pleads  along  with 
nature,  and  the  culprit  is  a  child  strayed  from  his 
duty,  and  returned  to  it  again  with  tears. 

— Sterne,  1 713-1786. 

(4215.)  What  man  among  you  can  stand  against 
his  children's  tears?  When  King  Henry  H.,  in  the 
ages  gone  by,  was  provoked  to  take  up  arms  against 
his  ungrateful  and  rebellious  son,  he  besieged  him 
in  one  of  the  French  towns,  and  the  son  being  near 
to  death,  desired  to  see  his  father,  and  confess  his 
wrongdoing  ;  but  the  stern  old  sire  refused  to  look 
the  rebel  in  the  face.  The  young  man  being  sorely 
troubled  in  his  conscience,  said  to  those  about  him, 
"  1  am  dying,  take  me  from  my  bed,  and  let  me  lie 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  m  token  of  my  sorrow  for 
my  ingratitude  to  my  father."  Tlius  he  died,  and 
wlien  the  tidings  came  to  the  old  man  outside  the 
walls,  that  his  boy  had  died  in  ashes,  repentant  for 
his  rebellion,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  earth,  like 
another  David,  and  said,  "  Would  God  1  had  died 
for  him."  The  thought  of  his  boy's  broken  heart 
touched  the  heart  of  the  father.  If  ye,  being  evil, 
are  overcome  by  your  children's  tears,  how  much 
more  shall  your  Father  who  is  in  heaven  find  in 
your  bemoanings  and  confessions  an  argument  for 
the  display  of  His  pardoning  love  through  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord  ?  Tliis  is  the  eloquence  which  God 
delights  in,  the  broken  heart  and  the  contrite  spirit, 

— Spur^eon. 

2.  It  continues  to  the  very  end  of  life. 

(4216.)  Wretched  as  must  ever  be  the  case  of  the 
sinner  who  is  trusting  to  a  death-bed  repentance, 
which  too  often  is  no  repentance  at  all ;  yet,  even 
as  he  who  by  one  single  step  outran  the  avenger  of 
blood,  was  safe  in  the  City  of  Rekige  ;  so  he  who, 
even  in  the  last  struggle  of  departing  life,  is  truly 
led  to  cast  himself  on  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ, 
may  take  comfort  from  the  thought  of  the  jailer, 
arrested  by  infinite  grace  when  on  the  point  of 
slaying  himself,  body  and  soul  ;  and  from  the 
recollection  of  the  expiring  malefactor,  who  heard, 
almost  as  the  last  sounds  which  reached  his  ears  in 
this  world,  "  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  Me  in 
Paradise."  —Kyle. 

(4217.)  With  the  blood  of  Christ  to  wash  away 
the  darkest  guilt,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  to  sanctily 
the  vilest,  and  strengthen  the  weakest  nature,  I 
despair  of  none.  Too  late  !  It  is  never  too  late. 
Even  old  age,  tottermg  to  the  grave  beneath  the 
wei'dit  of  seventy  years  and  a  great  load  of  guilt, 
may  retrace  its  steps,  and  begin  life  anew.  Hope 
lalls  like  a  sunlieam  on  the  hoary  head.  I  have 
seen  the  morning  rise  cold  and  gloomy,  and  the 
sky  grow  thicker,  and  the  rain  fall  faster,  as  the 
hours  wore  on  ;  yet,  ere  he  set  in  night,  the  sun, 
bursting  through  heavy  clouds,  has  broken  out  to 
illumine  the  landscape  and.  shed  a  flood  of  glory  on 
the  dying  day.  — Guihtu. 


REPENTANCE. 


(    712    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


(4218.)  If  there  was  no  remedy,  it  you  were  past 
redemption,  I  would  no  more  seek  to  waken  you 
than  1  would  one  who  slept  to-night  and  was  to  be 
hanged  to-morrow.  Poor  wretch,  let  him  sleep  on 
and  take  his  rest — sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof.  A  boat  was  once  seen  sweeping  along  the 
rapid  that  hurries  to  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  To  the 
horror  of  some  that  waiched  it  from  the  shore 
they  saw  one  aboard,  and  also  asleep.  Such 
a  time  and  place  for  sleeping  !  They  ran  ;  they 
shouted  ;  they  cried.  The  sleeper  woke  ;  and  at 
one  wild,  rapid  glance  took  in  all  his  danger. 
Yet,  what  won't  a  man  do  for  his  life?  To  seize 
the  oars  and  pull  the  boat's  head  round  to  the  shore 
was  the  work  of  an  instant.  With  death  in  the 
thunders  of  the  cataract,  roaring  loud  and  louder, 
near  and  nearer  in  his  ear,  how  he  pulled  !  But 
unless  God  had  sent  down  the  eagle  ihat  sailed  in 
the  blue  hkies  overhead  to  bear  him  away  upon  her 
wings,  there  was  no  hope.  The  water,  sweeping 
onward  with  resistless  power,  shot  him  like  an 
arrow  to  the  brink.  It  was  cruel  to  waken  him. 
But,  as  nigh  to  destruction,  near  hell  as  that,  you 
may  be  saved  ;  plucked  from  the  very  edge  ot  ruin 
— just  when  you  are  going  over,  Jesus  can  save  at 
the  uttermost.  He  waits  now  to  save  ;  though  how 
much  longer  He  shall  wait  to  hear  from  your  lips 
the  cry,  "Save  me,"  I  know  not.  Beware  1  The 
patience  of  God  is  lasting,  but  not  everlasting. 

— Guthrie. 

3.  The  folly  of  "  turning  the  grace  of  our  God 
Into  lasciviousness." 

(4219.)  Would  any  man  be  so  simple  as  to  set 
his  house  on  tire  because  he  has  a  great  river 
running  by  his  door,  from  whence  he  may  have 
water  to  quench  it ;  or  wound  himself,  because 
there  is  an  excellent  plaster  which  has  cured 
several.  — Charnock,  1620-1680. 

(4220.)  Satan  also  emboldeneth  the  sinner,  by 
telling  him  how  many  have  repented  and  sped 
well,  that  sinned  as  bad,  or  worse  tlian  this  :  he 
tells  him  of  Noah,  and  Lot,  and  David,  and  Peter, 
and  the  thief  on  the  cross,  and  Paul,  a  persecutor, 
yea,  and  Manasseh,  &c. 

But  consider  whether  any  of  those  did  thus  sin, 
because  that  others  had  escaped  that  sinned  before 
them.  And  think  of  the  millions  that  never 
repented  and  are  condemned,  as  well  as  those  few 
that  have  repented.  Is  repentance  better  than  sin? 
why  then  will  you  sin?  Is  sin  better  than  repent- 
ance? why  then  do  you  purpose  to  repent?  Is  it 
not  base  ingratitude  10  ofiend  God  wiliuUy,  because 
He  hath  pardoned  many  offenders,  and  is  ready  lo 
forgive  the  penitent?  And  should  a  man  of  reason 
willully  make  work  for  his  own  repentance  ;  a\io 
do  that  which  he  knoweth  he  shall  wish  with  gnei 
that  he  had  never  done?  If  some  have  bten  savtd 
that  fell  into  the  sea,  or  that  fell  from  the  top  of 
steeples,  or  that  drunk  poison,  or  that  were  danger- 
ously wounded,  will  you  thereiore  cast  yourself  uito 
the  same  case,  in  hope  of  being  saved  ? 

— Baxter,  1615-1691, 

(4221.)  What  would  you  say  yourselves  to  the 
otiin  that  would  not  be  dissuaded  from  settmg  his 
house  on  fire,  ai>i  then  would  pray  and  cry  impor- 
tunately to  God  that  He  would  keep  it  from  being 
burnt?  Or  of  the  man  that  will  not  be  dissuaded 
from  taking  poison    and  then  when  it  gripetli  him, 


will  cry  to  God  to  save  his  life?  Or  of  the  man 
that  will  go  to  sea  in  a  leaky,  broken  vessel,  yea, 
himself  will  make  those  breaches  in  it  that  shall 
let  the  water  in,  and  when  it  is  sinking  will  cry  to 
God  to  save  him  from  being  drowned?  And  will 
you  do  this  about  so  great  a  matter  as  the  ever- 
lasting state  of  your  immortal  souls?  Will  you  be 
worldlings,  and  sensualists,  and  ungodly,  and  then 
cry,  "Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit,"  at  the  last? 
What !  receive  an  unholy  spirit  ?  Will  you  not 
knock  till  the  door  is  shut  ?  When  He  telleth  you, 
that  "  it  is  not  every  one  that  will  cry  Lord,  Lord, 
that  shall  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  but  "he 
that  doeth  the  will  of  His  Father  which  is  in 
heaven"?  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4222.)  It  is  foolish  to  lay  out  money  in  the  pur- 
chase of  repentance. 

— Benjamin  Franklin,  1706- 1790. 

(4223.)  The  seeds  of  repentance  are  sown  in 
youth  by  pleasure,  but  the  harvest  is  reaped  in  age 
by  pain.  — Cotton,  1832. 

(4224.)  Would  you  indulge  yourselves  in  a  course 
of  sin  because  you  hope  to  be  able  hereafter  to 
repent  of  it  ?  Can  anything  exceed  this  extrava- 
gance of  folly?  Would  any  man  in  his  senses 
continue  in  a  business,  because  he  hoped  that  at 
last  it  would  fill  him  with  painlul  regret  and  self- 
abliorrence  ;  because  he  hoped — before  his  death  to 
condemn  himself  for  engaging  in  it,  as  having  acted 
a  part — the  most  foolish,  base,  and  injurious  ? 

—Jay,  1769-1853. 

IV.  IT  IS  NEITHER  EXP  I  A  TOR  Y  NOR  MERI- 
TORIOUS. 

(4225.)  If  a  man  build  a  house  which  doth  cost 
him  much  labour  and  great  ciiarges,  and,  not  hav- 
ing laid  a  sure  loundation,  when  a  tempest  cometh 
his  house  doth  fall,  then  will  he  be  very  sorry,  and 
repent  that  he  hath  so  unadvisedly  bestowed  his 
money  and  labour;  notwithstanding,  his  great  sor- 
row and  repentance  cannot  set  up  his  house  again  : 
even  so,  though  thou  repent  never  so  nuich,  yet 
that  cannot  get  remission  for  thy  sins  that  are  past, 
but  thou  must  be  pardoned  only  by  the  faith  of 
Christ's  blood.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(4226.)  It  is  strange  that  any  should  imagine 
repentance  to  be  meritorious  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Our  blessed  Lord  has  told  us  that  obedience  itself 
can  lay  no  claim  to  merit  ;  and  that  "when  we 
have  done  all  that  is  commanded  us,  we  should 
confess  ourselves  unprofitable  servants,"  Who  does 
not  see  that  an  acknowledgment  of  a  debt  is  a  very 
difierent  thing  from  a  discharge  of  that  debt ;  and 
that,  if  a  condemned  criminal  be  ever  so  sorry  for 
his  offences,  and  acknowledge  ever  so  sincerely  his 
desert  of  punishment,  his  sorrow  cannot  cancel  the 
debt  which  he  owes  to  the  laws  of  his  country ; 
much  less  can  it  give  him  a  claim  to  great  rewards? 
It  is  not  then  on  a  ground  of  merit,  that  God  pardons 
a  repenting  sinner.  Nevertheless  there  is  a  connec- 
tion between  repentance  and  pardon  :  there  is  a 
■meetness  and  suitableness  in  the  exercise  of  mercy 
towards  the  penitent,  — Simeon,  1 758-1836. 

(4227.)  When  murder  has  been  committed,  no 
change  in  the  murderer  can  recall  the  murdered 
man  lo  life  ;  when  sentiments  01  inhdemy  have  been 


REPENTANCE. 


(    713    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


scattcr°d  abroad,  no  act  of  the  penitent  sceptic  can 
gather  them  up  again  ;  when  morals  and  faith  have 
been  corrupted,  no  tears,  no  efforts  of  him  who  has 
done  it,  can  rescue  and  restore  the  victims ;  wlien 
innocence  has  been  ruined,  tlie  conversion  of  the 
betrayer  and  the  seducer  does  not  recall  the  seduced 
and  the  wronged  from  the  low  haunts  of  vice  or 
from  the  grave.  But  the  penitent  and  regenerated 
man  may,  in  some  degree,  repair  the  evil  which  he 
has  done  to  society.  — Barnes,  1 798-1870. 

(4228.)  Repentance  qtialifies  a  man  for  pardon, 
but  it  does  not — cannot — entitle  him  to  it.  It  is 
one  of  the  most  elementary  and  obvious  truths  of 
morality,  that  the  performar.ce  of  one  duty  cannot 
be  any  compensation  for  neglect  to  perform  another 
duty.  But  when  a  sinner  is  penitent  for  his  sins, 
he  is  merely  doing  what,  as  a  sin?ier,  he  ought  to 
do;  and  his  feelings  of  contrition  do  no  more  to 
absolve  him  from  his  guilt,  than  the  gratitude  a 
man  feels  to  a  doctor  who  has  cured  him  from  a 
dangerous  illness  does  to  discharge  the  doctor's  bill. 
As  in  this  case,  there  ought  to  be  both  gratitude 
and  payment,  so  in  the  case  of  the  sinner  there 
must  be  both  penitence  and  atonement.  The  sin- 
ner's sorrow  for  his  sin,  while  in  itself  a  proper 
thing,  is  no  more  an  atonement  for  his  sin  than  is 
the  remorse  that  fills  tlie  breasts  of  most  murderers 
any  atonement  for  the  murders  they  have  committed. 
Judas  was  sorry — profoundly  and  intensely  sorry — 
for  having  betrayed  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but  did 
that  do  away  with  the  guilt  of  tliat  betrayal  ?  Was 
I'eter  not  to  be  blamed  for  his  denial  of  his  Master, 
because  afierwards  ''he  went  out  and  wept  bitterly"? 
Did  the  tears  he  shed  give  him  any  right  to  say  in 
after  years,  "Yes,  1  denied  my  Lord,  but  I  was 
sorry  for  it,  and  so  made  it  straight  "  ?  Do  you 
think  that,  just  as  with  soap  and  water  you  can 
wash  the  dirt  off  your  hands,  you  can  with  a  few 
tears,  or  with  many  tears,  wash  the  guilt  of  sin 
from  off  your  soul?  No  delusion  could  be  more 
groundless.  Oh  no  !  You  have  the  real  fact  and 
the  true  philosophy  of  the  matter  in  the  well-known 
verse  : — 

"  Not  the  labours  of  my  hands 

Can  fulfil  Thy  law's  demands. 

Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 

Could  my  tears  for  ei'er  flow. 

All  for  sin  could  not  atone  : 

Thou  must  save,  and  Thou  alone." 

V.    HOW  IT   IS   PRODUCED. 

(4229.)  A  stroke,  from  guilt,  from  wrath,  broke 
Judas'  heart  into  despair ;  a  look  from  love,  from 
Cluist,  broke  Peter's  into  tears.  That  sap  and 
moisture  which  in  frost  and  snow  lieth  hid  and 
buried  in  the  earth,  showeth  itself  pleasantly  in  the 
fruits  of  the  trees  when  it  is  called  foith  by  the 
warmth  of  the  sun.  Even  Saul  himself  will  lift  up 
his  voice  and  weep  when  he  seeth  a  clear  testi- 
mony of  the  love  and  undeserved  kindness  of  David. 
Hast  thou  never  beheld  a  condemned  prisoner 
dissolved  in  tears  upon  the  unexpected  and  un- 
merited receipt  of  a  pardon,  who  all  the  time 
before  was  as  hard  as  a  flint  ?  The  hammer  of 
the  law  may  break  the  icy  heart  of  man  with 
terrors  and  horror,  and  yet  it  may  remain  ice  still, 
unchanged,  but  when  the  fire  of  love  kindly  thaweth 
its  ice,  it  is  changed  and  dissolved  into  water — it 
is  no  longer  ice,  but  of  another  nature.  Where 
the  sun  is  most  preaominant,  there  are  the  sweetest 


spices,  and  richest  mines,  and  the  costliest  jewels. 
Do  thou  therefore  meditate  much  on  the  love  of 
God  and  Christ.  — Swimiock,  1673. 

(4230.)  From  this  incident  (Luke  vii.  37-50)  we 
see  what  it  is  which  produces  true  repentance.  If 
you  were  going  out  into  tlie  open  air  on  a  frosty 
day,  and  were  you  taking  a  lump  of  ice,  you  might 
pound  it  with  a  pestle,  but  it  would  still  continue 
ice.  You  might  break  it  into  ten  thousand  atoms, 
but  so  long  as  you  continue  in  that  wintry  atmo- 
sphere, every  fragment,  however  small,  will  still  be 
frozen.  But  come  within.  Bring  in  the  ice  beside 
your  own  bright  and  blazing  fire,  and  soon  in  that 
genial  glow  "the  waters  flow."  A  man  may  try  to 
make  himself  contrite  ;  he  may  search  out  his  sins 
and  set  them  before  him,  and  dwell  on  all  their 
enormity,  and  still  feel  no  true  repentance.  Though 
pounded  with  penances  in  the  mortar  of  fasts  and 
macerations,  his  heart  continues  hard  and  icy  still. 
And  as  long  as  you  keep  in  tiiat  legal  atmosphere 
it  cannot  thaw.  There  may  be  elaborate  confession, 
a  got-up  sort  of  penitence,  a  voluntary  humility, 
but  there  is  no  godly  sorrow.  But  come  to  Jesus 
with  His  words  of  grace  and  truth.  From  the  coJd 
winter  night  of  the  ascetic  come  into  the  summer  of 
the  Great  Evangelist.  Let  that  flinty  frozen  spirit 
bask  a  little  in  the  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness. Listen  for  a  little  to  those  words  which 
melted  this  sinner  into  a  penitent — which  broke  her 
alabaster  box  and  brimmed  over  in  tears  ecstatic 
sorrow  and  self-condemning  devotion  :  for,  finding 
that  you  too  have  much  forgiven,  you  also  will  love 
much.  — ilamilton,  1S14-1S67. 

(4231.)  There  may  be  the  most  bitter  and  tor- 
menting sense  of  guilt  without  any  real  godly 
repentance  for  it.  The  heart  of  stone  may  be 
crushed  and  remain  stone  in  its  every  fragment  ; 
it  can  only  be  melted  when  the  love  of  God  is 
suffered  to  shine  on  it.  — Ker. 

VI.    MUST  NOT  BE   DELAYED. 

1.  Because  delay  Is  foolish. 

(4232.)  If  you  be  still  resolved  to  delay  this 
business,  consider  well  \\\i\\  yourselves  how  long 
you  intend  to  delay  it.  I  hope  not  to  the  last,  nor 
till  sickness  come  and  death  make  his  approaches 
to  you.  This  is  next  to  madness  to  venture  all 
upon  such  an  after-game.  It  is  just  as  if  a  man 
should  be  content  to  be  shipwrecked  in  hope  that 
he  shall  afterwards  escape  by  a  plank  and  get  safe 
to  shore.  — Tillotson,  1630- 1694. 

(4233.)  All  delay  in  this  case  is  dangerous  and 
as  senseless  as  the  expectation  of  the  idiot  described 
by  the  poet,  who,  being  come  to  the  river  side,  and 
intending  to  pass  over,  stays  until  all  the  water  in 
the  river  be  gone  by  and  hath  left  the  channel  a 
dry  passage  for  him  : 

"At  ille 
Labitur  et  labetur  in  omne  volubilis  cevum." 

But  the  river  runs  and  runs  and  will  run,  and  if 
he  should  stay  a  thousand  years  will  never  be  the 
nearer  being  dry.  So  that  if  the  man  should  go 
over,  and  there  be  a  necessity  for  it,  as  there  is  for 
repentance,  the  only  wise  resolution  to  be  taken  in 
this  case  is  to  wade  or  swim  over  as  well  as  he 
can,  because  the  matter  will  never  be  amended  by 
tarrying.  — Tillotson,  1630- 1 694. 


REPENTANCE. 


(    7U    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


(4234.)  Art  thou  convinced  that  thy  eternal  hap- 
piness ilepends  upon  following  the  advice  which 
haih  now  been  given  thee?  Why  then  do  but 
behave  tliyself  in  this  case  as  all  prudent  men  are 
wont  to  do  in  matters  of  far  less  concernment.  If 
a  man  be  travelling  to  such  a  place,  so  soon  as  he 
finds  himself  out  of  the  way,  he  presently  stops  and 
makes  towards  the  right  way,  and  hath  no  inclina- 
tion to  go  wrong  any  farther.  If  a  man  be  sick, 
he  will  be  well  presently  if  he  can,  and  not  put  it 
off  for  the  future.  Most  men  will  gladly  take  the 
fir.-t  opportunity  that  presents  itself  of  being  rich  or 
great  ;  every  man  almost  catches  at  the  very  first 
offers  of  a  great  place  or  a  good  purchase,  and 
secures  them  presently,  if  he  can,  lest  the  oppor- 
tunity be  gone  and  another  snatch  these  things  from 
him.  Do  thou  thus  so  much  more  in  matters  so 
much  greater.  Return  from  the  error  of  thy  way, 
be  wise,  save  thyself  as  soon  as  possibly  thou  canst. 
When  happiness  presents  itself  to  thee,  do  not  turn 
it  off  and  bid  it  come  again  to-morrow.  Perhaps 
thou  niayest  never  be  so  (airly  offered  again;  perhaps 
the  day  of  salvation  may  not  come  again  to-morrow  ; 
ray,  perhaps,  to  thee,  to-morrow  may  never  come. 
But  if  we  were  sure  that  happiness  would  come 
again,  yet  why  should  we  put  it  off?  Does  any 
man  know  how  to  be  safe  and  happy  to-day,  and 
can  he  find  in  his  heart  to  tarry  until  to-morrow. 
— Tillotson,  1 630  - 1 694. 

{4235.)  There  is  no  greater  argument  of  a  man's 
weakness  than  irresolution  in  matters  of  mighty 
consequence,  when  both  the  importance  of  the  thing 
and  exigency  of  present  circunisiances  require  a 
speedy  resolution.  We  should  account  it  a  strange 
folly  for  a  man  to  be  unresolved  in  the  clearest  and 
plainest  matters  that  concern  his  temporal  welfare 
and  safety.  If  a  man  could  not  determine  himself 
wh.ether  he  should  eat  or  starve  ;  if  he  were  dan- 
gerously sick  and  could  not  determine  whether  he 
should  take  physic  or  die  ;  or  if  one  that  were  in 
prison  could  not  resolve  himself  whether  he  should 
accept  of  liberty  and  be  content  to  be  released  ; 
or  if  a  fair  estate  were  offered  to  him,  he  should 
desire  seven  years'  time  to  consider  whether  he 
should  take  it  or  not  : — this  would  be  so  absurd 
in  the  common  affairs  of  life  that  a  man  would  be 
thought  infatuated.  If  a  man  were  under  the  con- 
demnation of  the  law  and  liable  to  be  executed 
upon  the  least  intimation  of  the  prince's  pleasure, 
and  a  pardon  were  graciously  offered  to  him,  with 
this  intimation  that  this  would  probably  be  the  last 
offer  of  mercy  that  ever  would  be  made  to  him  : 
one  would  think  that  in  this  case  a  man  should  soon 
be  determined  what  to  do,  6r  rather  that  he  should 
not  need  to  deliberate  at  all  about  it :  because  there 
is  no  danger  of  rashness  in  making  haste  to  save  his 
life. 

And  yet  the  case  of  a  sinner  is  of  far  greater 
importance,  and  much  more  depends  upon  it,  infin- 
itely more  than  any  temporal  concernment  whatso- 
ever can  amount  to,  even  our  happiness  or  misery 
to  all  eternity.  And  can  there  be  any  difficulty  lor 
a  man  to  be  resolved  what  is  to  be  done  in  such  a 
case?  No  case  surely  in  the  world  can  be  plainer 
than  this — whether  a  man  should  leave  his  sins  and 
return  to  God  and  his  duty  or  not  ;  that  is,  whether 
a  man  should  chouse  to  be  happy  or  miserable, 
unspeakably  and  everlastingly  happy,  or  extremely 
Mid  eternally  miserable 

—  Tilloti'n,  1 630- 1 694. 


(4236.)  This  is  a  confidence  of  all  the  most 
ungrounded  and  irrational.  For  upon  what  ground 
can  a  man  promise  himself  a  futuie  repentance,  who 
cannot  promise  himself  a  futurity? 

— South,  1633-1716. 

2.  Because  delay  Is  dangerous. 

(4237.)  Whoever  delays  his  repentance  does 
in  effect  pawn  his  soul  with  the  devil,  and  leaves 
it  in  his  hands,  and  says,  "  Here,  Satan,  keep  my 
soul  :  if  I  fetch  it  not  again  by  such  a  day,  \.s 
thine  for  ever."  — Manton,  1620-1667. 

(4238.)  If  you  did  know  but  the  danger  and 
horiible  misery  of  the  life  that  you  now  live,  yen 
would  make  as  much  haste  out  of  it,  as  a  man 
wt>uld  do  out  of  a  house  that  was  on  fire  over  his 
head  ;  or  as  a  man  that  was  at  ;;ea  in  a  leaking 
vessel,  that  if  he  did  not  bestir  himself  as  for  his  life 
to  get  it  to  the  shore,  would  sink  and  drown  him. 
— Baxttr,  1615-1691. 

(4239.)  Our  common  idea  is  that  we  are  walking 
towards  the  precipice  of  death  ;  and  that  we  cas 
calculate  to-day  we  are  so  many  miles  distant, 
to-morrow  so  many  fewer,  the  next  day  so  many 
fewer,  till  we  reach  the  very  edge.  But  this  is 
not  the  fact.  We  do  not  walk  towards  the 
precipice,  we  are  walking  along  the  slippery  edge 
of  the  precipice,  and  know  not  what  step  may 
place  us  where  all  recovery  is  beyond  our  reach, 
because  all  is  fixed  ;  and  all  repentance  impossible, 
because  no  place  is  found  for  it,  though  sought  with 
tears.  — Cununing. 

{4240.)  Better  stop  now.  Some  years  ago,  near 
Princeton,  New  Jersey,  some  young  men  were 
skating  on  a  pond  around  an  "air-hole, "  and  the 
ice  began  to  break  in.  Some  of  them  stopped  ; 
but  a  young  man  said,  "  /  am  not  ajratd  I  Give  us 
07te  round  more!"  He  swung  nearly  round,  when 
the  ice  broke,  and  not  until  next  day  was  his  life- 
less body  found.  So  men  go  on  in  sin.  They  are 
warned.  They  expect  soon  to  stop.  But  tliey  cry, 
"  Give  us  one  round  morel  "  They  start,  but  with 
wild  crash  break  through  into  bottomless  perdition. 
Do  not  risk  it  any  longer.  Slop  now.  God  save 
us  from  the  foolhardiness  of  the  one  round  more  1 

—  Till  mage. 

3.  Because  delay  multiplies  difficulties. 
(4241.)  If  a  man   take,   in  the  spring,   three  or 

four  plants,  and  set  them  altogether  at  one  time,  if 
he  come  within  a  while  after  he  may  easily  pull  up 
one  of  them  ;  if  he  stay  a  fortnight  or  a  month,  he 
may  pull  up  another,  but  it  will  be  somewhat 
harder;  if  he  stay  a  year  or  two,  till  it  have  taken 
deep  root,  then  lie  may  pull  and  pull  his  heart  out, 
his  labour  is  all  in  vain,  he  shall  never  be  able  to 
move  it.  And  thus  it  is  that  one  sin,  one  offence, 
if  we  labour  to  pull  it  up  in  time,  it  may  be  for- 
given, it  may  be  taken  away  ;  and  if  we  let  that  one 
go  on  to  two  or  three,  yet,  with  unfeigned  repent- 
ance, with  bleeding  tears,  wi\h  incessant  outcries 
to  a  gracious  God,  they  may  be  razed  out  and 
wiped  away,  but  with  greater  difficulty  ;  but  if  a 
man  give  up  himself  unto  sin,  accustom  iiimself  to  do 
evil,  so  that  it  take  deep  root  in  the  heart  and  be 
settled  in  the  soul,  he  shall  never  be  able  to  pull  it 
up,  nor  arise  from  the  death  of  sin,  which  hath  so 
fast  seized  on  him.  — Simson,   1629. 


REPENTANCE. 


(    715     ) 


REPENTANCE. 


(4242.)  That  which  makes  men  so  loth  to  be 
brought  to  reflect  upon  their  past  lives,  is  the  uneasi- 
ness and  trouble  they  think  they  shall  find  in  such 
a  work.  So  a  great  trader  tliat  has  p;ood  reason 
lo  think  that  he  has  run  much  behindhand  in  the 
world,  of  all  things  hates  to  louk  into  iiis  books, 
cannot  endure  to  hear  of  stating  his  accoimis  ;  and 
yet  the  longer  he  defers  this,  his  accounts  will 
become  more  intricate,  he  will  still  run  more  in 
debt,  his  condition  will  every  day  grow  worse  and 
worse,  till  at  last  it  is  past  all  recovery.  And 
thus  it  is  with  wicked  men.  They  would  fain  defer 
iheir  repenttnce  as  long  as  they  can,  they  would 
not  yet  be  interrupted  with  such  grave  and  serious 
thoughts.  But  the  mischief  is,  the  longer  they 
defer  it,  the  more  they  have  still  to  repent  of;  and 
not  only  so,  but  they  become  more  unable  and 
unfit  for  such  a  work  ;  they  are  still  more  back- 
ward and  averse,  as  having  been  longer  used 
and  accustomed  to  their  sins,  and  as  having  con- 
tracted greater  familiarity  with  and  kindness  for 
them  ;  and  by  such  delay  their  ill  habits  grow  more 
confirmed,  their  lusts  and  passions  become  stronL;er 
and  more  potent,  and  even  their  very  natural  powers 
and  faculties  are  by  degrees  weakened  and  dis- 
abled. — Calaniy,  1600-1663. 


(4243.)  The  ways  of  virtue  and  righteousness  are 
not  like  two  roads  that  lie  nii^h  or  parallel  one  to 
the  other,  so  that  with  ease  and  in  a  liille  time  a 
man  may  step  out  of  the  one  into  the  other  ;  but 
they  are  perfectly  opposite  and  directly  contrary 
to  each  other.  Suppose  that  a  man  for  a  great 
reward  be  obliged  in  one  day,  between  sunrising 
and  sunsetting,  to  travel  so  many  miles  northward, 
and  moreover  by  a  solemn  oath  (as  all  Christians 
are  to  the  practice  of  Christianity)  engageii  to  the 
performance  of  it  ;  but  that  the  man,  freely  pre- 
suming he  has  time  enough  to  do  this  in,  does  not 
set  out  at  the  first  rising  of  the  sun,  but  loiters  and 
tiifles  away  all  his  time,  nay,  not  only  so,  but  that 
for  his  pleasure,  or  some  little  convenience,  he 
travels  quite  the  contrary  way,  and  goes  southward  ; 
and  finding  that  road  very  smooth,  broad,  and  full 
of  company  and  diversion,  is  by  any  little  tempta- 
tions drilled  on  still  further  in  it,  wholly  forgetting 
his  bargain,  til!  on  a  sutlden  the  sun  is  just  ready 
to  set,  night  comes  on  apace,  and  then  the  wretch 
begins  to  consider  how  much  he  is  out  of  his  way, 
and  finds  himself  weary  and  tired  and  unfit  for 
travel,  and  curses  his  own  folly,  and  promises  if  he 
were  to  begin  again,  he  would  go  directly  to  the 
place  commandeii  ;  but  by  the  time  he  has  thus 
resolved,  the  sun  is  set.  Shall  this  man  now  obtain 
the  promised  reward  ?  Alas  !  before  he  can  chal- 
lenge that,  he  must  first  return  back  all  the  way  he 
has  gone,  even  to  the  point  from  whence  he  first 
set  out,  and  also  after  that  will  have  his  whole  day's 
journey  still  to  go,  and  all  that  task  which  he  first 
engaged  himself  to  perform.  So  a  wicked  man 
upon  his  death-bed  is  not  only  to  unravel  all  his 
former  works,  to  break  off  all  his  lewd  customs,  to 
mortify  all  his  foolish  pa-.sions  and  unruly  lusts,  to 
forsake  all  his  deadly  sins,  and  to  repent  of  his  past 
ill-spent  life  ;  but  he  is  then  to  live  a  new  life,  he 
is  then  to  accustom  himseli  to  the  practice  of  good- 
ness, and  to  make  it  habitual  lo  him  ;  bis  mind  is 
then  to  be  furnished  with  all  Christian  virtues  and 
graces,  he  has  his  whole  race  still  to  run,  and  nis 
salvation  still  to  work  out :  and  is  the  least  part  of 


this  possible  to  be  done  on  a  languishing  bed   of 
sickness?  — Calamy,  1600-1673. 

(4244.)  By  delay  of  repentance,  sin  strengthens, 
and  the  heart  hardens.  The  longer  ice  freezeth, 
the  harder  it  is  to  be  broken  :  the  longer  a  man 
freezeth  in  impenitency,  the  more  difficult  it  will  be 
to  have  his  heart  broken,  — Watson,  1696. 

(4245.)  The  more  we  defer,  the  more  difficult 
and  painful  our  work  must  needs  prove  ;  every  day 
will  both  enlarge  our  task  and  diminish  oui  ability 
to  perform  it.  Sin  is  never  at  a  stay  ;  ii  we  do  not 
retreat_  from  it,  we  shall  advance  in  it,  and  the 
further  on  we  go,  the  more  we  have  to  come  back  ; 
every  step  we  take  forward  (even  before  we  can 
return  hither,  into  the  state  wherein  we  aie  at  pre- 
sent) must  be  repeated  ;  all  the  web  we  spin  must 
be  unravelled. 

Vice,  as  it  groweth  in  age,  so  it  improveth  in 
stature  and  strength  ;  from  a  puny  child  it  soon 
waxeth  a  lusty  stri])ling,  then  riseth  to  be  a  sturdy 
man,  and  after  awhile  becometh  a  massy  giant, 
wiiom  we  shall  scarce  dare  to  encounter,  whom  we 
shall  be  very  hariily  able  to  vanquish  ;  especially 
seeing  that  as  it  groweth  taller  and  stouter,  so  we 
shall  dwindle  and  prove  more  impotent,  for  it 
feedeth  upon  our  vitals,  and  thriveth  by  our  decay ; 
it  waxeth  mighty  by  stripping  us  of  our  best  forces, 
by  enteebling  our  reason,  by  perverting  our  will, 
by  corrupting  our  temper,  by  debasing  our  courage, 
by  seducing  all  our  appetites  and  passions  to  a 
treacherous  compliance  with  itself  :  every  day  our 
mind  groweth  more  blind,  our  will  more  ru.-ity,  qui 
spirit  more  faint,  our  passions  more  headstrong 
and  untamable  ;  the  power  and  empire  of  sin  do 
strangely  by  degrees  encroach,  and  continually  get 
ground  upon  us,  till  it  hath  quite  subdued  and 
enthralled  us.  Y\x%\.  we  learn  to  bear  it ;  then  we 
come  to  like  it  ;  by  and  by  we  contract  a  friendship 
with  it  ;  then  we  dote  upon  it  ;  at  last  we  become 
enslaved  to  it  in  a  bondage,  which  we  shall  liardly 
be  able,  or  willing,  to  shake  off;  when  not  only 
our  necks  are  fitted  to  the  yoke,  our  hands  are 
manacled,  and  our  feet  sh  ckled  thereby,  but  our 
heads  and  hearts  do  conspire  in  a  base  submission 
thereto,  when  vice  hath  made  such  impression  on 
us,  when  this  pernicious  weed  hath  tak<  n  so  deep 
root  in  our  ndnd,  will,  and  affection,  it  will  demand 
an  extremely  toilsome  labour  to  extirpate  it. 

— Barrow,  1630-1677. 

(4246.)  The  longer  the  heart  and  sin  converse 
together,  the  more  familiar  they  will  grow  ;  and 
then  the  stronger  the  familiarity,  the  harder  the 
separation.  Does  any  one  think  he  has  his  heart 
so  in  his  hand,  as  to  say,  "  Thus  far  will  I  sin,  and 
there  will  1  leave  ofif"  ?  Such  an  one  shows  indeed 
that  he  neither  understands  the  nature  of  sin  iior  of 
his  heart. 

How  that  which  now  creeps  and  begs  for  en- 
trance, having  once  got  admission,  will  command 
and  domineer  ;  and  like  that  emperor,  though  it 
gets  into  pouer  like  a  fox,  yet  it  will  manage  it, 
and  reign  like  a  lion.  Neither  does  he  know  those 
many  windings  and  turnings,  the  siy  excuses  and 
glossing  apologies  that  the  heart  will  suggest  to 
rescue  its  sin  from  the  summons  of  repentance, 
lieing  once  endeared  and  bound  fast  to  it  by  in- 
veterate continuance. 

'Ihe  commission  of  sin  is  like  the   effusion  of 


REPENTANCE. 


(    716    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


water,  easily  contained  in  its  bounds,  but  uncon- 
trollable in  its  course.  We  indeed  may  give  it 
vent,  but  God  alone  knows  wliere  it  will  slop.  Is 
not  that  man,  tlierefore,  stupidly  ignorant  who 
chooses  to  encounter  his  sin  by  a  future  repentance  ? 
Reason  would  argue  and  discourse  thus  :  If  I  find 
that  I  have  scaice  power  enough  to  resist  my  sin  at 
present,  shall  I  not  have  much  less  when  lime  shall 
give  it  growth  and  strength,  and,  as  it  were,  knit  its 
joints  and  render  it  unconquerable? 

It  is  here  as  with  a  man  in  a  combat ;  every  blow 
his  adversary  gives  him  disables  him  for  the  very 
next  resistance,  A  man  at  first  finds  the  beginnings 
and  liltle  inconveniencies  of  a  disease,  but  physic 
is  unpleasant ;  and  withal  he  finds  himself  in  a 
good  competence  of  strength  at  present,  and  there- 
fore he  resolves  to  wear  it  out :  but  in  the  meaniime 
his  distemper  eats  on  its  way  and  grows  upon  him, 
till  at  length  he  has  not  so  much  as  strength  to 
bear  physic,  but  his  disease  quickly  runs  him  down, 
and  becomes  incurable. 

A  man  at  first  is  strong,  and  his  sin  is  weak,  and 
he  may  easily  break  the  neck  of  it  by  a  mature 
repentance  ;  but  his  own  deluding  heart  tells  him 
that  he  had  better  repent  hereafter  ;  that  is,  when, 
on  the  contrary,  he  himself  is  deplorably  weak,  and 
his  sin  invincibly  strong. 

Commission  of  sin  may  indeed  wound,  but  it  is 
continuance  of  sin  tliat  kills.  A  man  by  falling  to 
the  ground  may  perhaps  get  a  bruise  or  a  knuck  ; 
but  by  lying  upon  the  ground  alter  he  is  fallen,  he 
may  chance  to  catch  his  death. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 16. 

4.  Because  delay  Is  Itself  a  grievous  sin,  and  a 
■Ign  that  really  we  intend  never  to  repent. 

{4247.)  To  neglect  God  all  our  lives,  and  know 
that  we  neglect  Him  ;  to  offend  God  voluntarily, 
and  know  that  we  ofiend  Him  ;  casiing  our  hopes 
on  the  peace  which  we  trust  to  malvc  at  parting,  is 
no  oiher  than  a  rebellious  presumption,  and  even 
a  contemptuous  laughing  to  scorn  and  deriding  of 
God,  His  laws  and  piecepts. 

— Sir  Waiter  Raleigh,  1552-1618. 

(4248.)  He  that  resolves  to  be  virtuous,  but  not 
till  some  time  hereafter,  resolves  against  being 
virtuous  in  the  meantime  ;  and  as  virtue  at  such 
a  distance  is  easily  resolved  on,  so  it  is  as  easy  a 
matter  always  to  keep  it  at  that  distance.  "The 
next  week,"  says  the  sinner,  "I  will  begin  to  be 
sober  and  temperate,  serious  and  devout  ;"  but  the 
true  sense  of  what  he  says  is  this,  "  I  am  fully  bent 
to  spend  this  present  week  in  riot  and  excess,  in 
sensuality  and  profaneness,  or  whatever  vice  it  is 
that  I  indulge  myself  in;"  and  if  we  do  it  thus 
often,  if  it  be  our  common  course  to  put  off  our 
repentance  thus  from  time  to  time,  tliis  is  a  most 
shrewd  sign  that  indeed  we  never  intend  to  repent 
at  all.  This  is  not  only  a  pitiful  device  and  excuse 
to  shift  off  the  duty  wholly  ;  and  so  we  should 
interpret  it  in  any  man  who  should  deal  with  us 
after  the  saTiie  manner  in  our  worldly  affairs. 

It  is  with  wicked  men  in  this  case,  as  it  is  with  a 
bankrupt  :  when  his  creditors  are  loud  and  clamo- 
rous, speak  big  and  threaten  high,  he  gives  tliem 
many  good  words  and  fair  promises,  appoints  them 
to  come  another  day,  entreats  their  patience  but  a 
little  longer,  and  then  he  will  satisfy  them  all,  when 
yet  the  man  really  intends  not  to  pay  one  fai  thing, 
nor  ever  thinks  oi  compassing  the  money  against 


the  time.  Thus  do  men  endeavour  to  pacify  and 
quiet  their  consciences,  by  telling  them  they  will 
hear  them  another  time  ;  but  this  is  only  to  delude 
and  cheat  their  consciences  with  good  words  and 
specious  pretences,  making  them  believe  they  will 
certainly  do  what  yet  they  cannot  endure  to  think 
of,  and  wliat  they  would  fain  wholly  excuse  them- 
selves from.  — Calaviy,  1600-1663. 

6.  Because  repentance  is  a  divine  gift. 

(4249.)  Saving  repentance  is  the  gift  of  God: 
and  is  it  likely  that  those  who  have  been  insensible 
to  the  loud  and  earnest  calls  of  the  Word,  that  have 
been  inflexible  to  the  gracious  methijds  of  Provi 
dence  leading  them  to  repentance,  should  at  last 
obtain  converting  grace?  The  gales  of  the  Spirit 
are  very  transient,  and  blow  where  He  pleases,  and 
can  it  be  expected  that  those  who  have  wilfully  and 
often  resisted  His  pure  motions,  should  by  an 
exuberant  favour  receive  afterwards  more  powerful 
grace  to  overrule  their  stubborn  wills  and  make 
them  obedient?  Our  Saviour  tells  us,  "To  him 
that  hath  shall  be  given,"  but  from  him  tliat  neglects 
the  improving  spiritual  treasures,  "  that  which  he 
hath  shall  be  taken  away."  There  are  special 
seasons  of  grace — as  the  passing  of  Christ  in  the 
way  where  the  lilind  man  sat — which  neglected,  arc 
irrecoverably  lost.  God  has  threatened  that  His 
"Spirit  shall  not  always  strive "  with  rebellious 
sinners,  and  then  their  state  is  remediless.  This 
may  be  the  case  of  many  even  in  this  life  who  are 
insensibleof  their  misery.  As  consumptive  persons 
decline  by  degrees,  lose  their  appetite,  colour,  arul 
strength,  till  at  last  they  are  hopeless  ;  so  the  with- 
drawings  of  the  Spirit  are  gradual.  His  motions  are 
not  so  frequent  and  strong,  and  upon  the  continued 
provocations  of  sinners  finally  leaves  them  under 
that  most  fearful  doom  :  "  He  that  is  filthy,  let  him 
be  filthy  still ;  he  that  is  unrighteous,  let  him  be 
unrighteous  still,"  and  thus  punishes  them  on  this 
side  hell,  as  He  does  the  damned,  by  giving 
them  over  to  sin.  Nothing,  therefore,  is  more 
dangerous  than  the  usual  excuses  lor  the  delays  of 
repentance.  It  is  written,  as  with  a  sunbeam,  that 
God  will  graciously  pardon  repenting  sinners  ;  but 
it  is  nowhere  promised  tliat  He  will  give  repentance 
tc  those  who  securely  break  His  laws  upon  a 
corrupt  confidence  they  will  repent  at  the  last. 

— Bates,  1625-1699. 

(4250.)  Repentance  is  entirely  in  God's  disposal. 
This  grace  is  in  the  soul  from  God,  as  light  is  in 
the  air  from  the  sun,  by  continual  emanation,  so 
that  God  may  shut  or  open  His  hands,  contract  or 
difluse,  set  lonh  or  suspend  the  influence  of  it  as  He 
pleases.  And  if  God  gives  not  repenting  grace, 
there  will  be  a  hard  heart  and  a  dry  eye,  maugre 
all  the  poor  frustraneous  endeavours  of  nature. 
A  piece  of  brass  may  as  easily  melt,  or  a  flint 
bewater  itself,  as  the  heart  of  man  by  any  innate 
power  of  its  own  resolve  itself  into  a  penitential 
humiliation.  If  God  does  not,  by  an  immediate 
blow  of  His  omnipotence,  strike  the  rock,  these 
waters  will  never  gush  out.  The  Spirit  blows 
where  it  listeth,  and  if  that  blows  not,  these  showers 
can  never  lall. 

And  now,  if  the  matter  stands  so,  how  does  the 
impenitent  sinner  know  but  that  God,  provoked  by 
his  present  impenitence,  may  irreversibly  propose 
within  llimsell  to  seal  up  these  fountains,  and  shut 
him  up  under  hardness  of  heart  and  reprobation  of 


REPENTANCE. 


(    7^7    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


Bf  nse  ?   And  then  farewell  all  thoughts  of  repentance 
forever.  — 6<)«M,  1633-17 16. 

6.  Because  repentance  Is  a  task  too  difficult  to 
be  accomplislied  in  tlie  hour  of  death. 

(4251.)  Were  we  to  jud^e  of  the  matter  by  the 
conduct  of  many,  we  should  conclude  it  to  be  by  no 
means  a  difficult  tiling  to  be  a  Christian.  They 
seem  to  think  it  almost  as  easy  to  wash  one's  heart 
as  their  hands  ;  to  change  their  habits  as  their 
dress;  to  admit  the  light  of  divine  truth  into  their 
souls  as  the  morning  into  our  chamber  by  opening 
ithe  shutters  ; — in  short,  that  it  is  not  more  difficult 
to  turn  the  heart  from  evil  to  good,  from  the  world 
to  God,  and  from  sin  to  Chris;,  than  to  turn  a  ship 
right  round  by  help  of  her  helm. 

How  else  can  we  account  for  many,  otherwise 
•ensible  people,  putting  off  tlieir  salvation  to  a  time 
confessedly  unsuitable  for  any  arduous  task  what- 
ever— till,  reduced  to  a  state  of  mental  and  physical 
prostration,  they  lie  languishing  on  a  bed  of  sick- 
ness, or  tossing  on  a  bed  of  death?  It  ought  to  be 
an  easy  work  that  is  deferred  till  then. 

— Guthrie. 

(4252.)  Is  it  because  death  is  a  suitable  and  con- 
rcnient  period  for  seeking  the  pardon  ol  sin  and 
salvation  of  the  soul  that  we  propose  to  delay  this 
matter  till  then?  Suitable,  convenient  I  Does 
death  send  us  warning  of  his  approach  ;  giving  due 
and  timely  notice  that  after  so  many  weeks  or  days 
we  may  look  for  a  visit  from  the  King  of  Terrors  ? 
Like  other  kings,  is  he  always  preceded  by  messen- 
gers to  prepare  the  wny,  and  make  all  things  ready 
lor  his  reception  ?  No.  Tiie  robber  comes  under 
the  cloud  ol  night;  steals  quietly  into  your  house; 
treads  the  floor  with  muffled  feet  ;  and  before  you 
wake  to  seize  his  hand,  has  you  by  the  throat,  and 
plants  a  dagger  in  your  heart  So  death  may  come. 
"I  come,"  says  our  Lord,  "as  a  thief  in  the 
night."  "Behold,  1  come  quickly."  Coming  so, 
the  procrastinating  die  without  hope.  And  though 
death  should  make  no  such  stealthy  attack,  nor 
leap  on  us  with  the  suddenness  of  a  tiger's  spring, 
whoever  looked  on  a  dying  scene  to  make  resolu- 
tions such  as  these —  I  will  delay  seeking  the  Lord 
till  my  body  is  racked  with  these  pains,  my  mind 
reeling  in  this  wild  'ielinum  ;  not  till  I  cannot  lift 
my  head  from  its  pillow,  not  till  1  cannot  read  a 
line  of  the  Lible,  not  till  1  can  neither  pray  nor 
listen  to  the  prayers  of  others,  will  1  seek  the  Lord  ! 
I  venture  to  say  that  wherever  man  made  such  a 
resolution,  no  man  in  his  sober  senses  ever  made  it 
by  a  dying  bed.  No.  Death  has  enough  to  do 
with  itself.  It  is  a  time  not  to  seek,  but  to  enjoy 
the  comforts  of  religion  ;  and  it  there  is  one  impres- 
sion which  life's  closing  scene  makes  most  strongly 
and  deeply  on  the  spectator,  it  is  this,  JS'ow  is  the 
accepted  time   new  is  tuc  day  of  salvation. 

— Guthrie. 

7.  Because  "  death-bed  repentances  "  are  always 
to  be  suspected. 

(4253.)  It  is  much  to  be  feared,  that  the  repent- 
ance of  a  dying  sinner  is  usually  but  like  the  sorrow 
of  a  maleiactor,  when  he  is  ready  to  be  turned  otf; 
he  is  not  troubled  that  he  has  ofiended  the  law, 
but  he  is  troubled  that  he  must  die. 

—  Tillotson,  1 630- 1 694. 

(4254.)  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves ;  heaven  is 


not  an  hospital  made  to  receive  all  sick  and  a^ed 
persons  that  can  but  put  up  a  faint  request  to  be 
admitted  there  ;  no,  no,  they  are  never  like  to  "  see 
the  kingdom  of  God  "  who,  in~tead  of  "seeking  it 
in  the  first  place,"  make  it  their  "  last  refuge  and 
retreat ; "  and  when  they  find  the  sentence  of  death 
upon  them,  only  to  avoid  present  execution,  do 
bethink  themselves  of  getting  to  heaven,  and  since 
there  is  no  other  remedy,  are  contented  to  petition 
the  great  King  and  Judge  of  the  world  that  ilicy 
may  be  transported  thither. 

—  Tillotson,  1630-1694. 


(4255.)  Whatever  stress  some  may  lay  upon  it,  a 
death-bid  repentance  is  but  a  weak  and  slcndei 
plank  to  trust  our  all  upon. 

— Sterne,  17 13-1768. 


8.    Because  a  death-bed   repentance   may   be 

insfflcacious. 

(4256.)  I  do  not  know  a  more  awful  part  of 
ScriiJture  than  the  parable  of  the  ten  virgins.  W^e 
are  always  fearful  of  dwelling  too  strongly  on  the 
minuter  parts  of  a  parable  ;  but  there  is  something 
so  sini;ular  in  the  fact,  tliat  the  foolish  virgins  went 
tf)  seek  oil  so  soon  as  they  heard  of  the  bridegroom's 
approach,  but  were  nevertheless  excludeil,  that  we 
dare  not  pass  it  by  as  conveying  no  lesson.  If  the 
parable  admit  of  being  applied,  as  we  suppose  it 
must  in  a  modified  sense,  to  the  circumstances  of 
our  death,  does  it  not  seem  to  say  that  a  repentance, 
to  which  wc  are  driven  by  the  approach  ol  dis- 
solution, will  not  be  accepted  ?  The  foolish  virgins 
sought  not  for  oil  till  alarmed  by  tidings  that  the 
bridegroom  was  at  hand  ;  and  many  tliink  that  it 
will  be  enough  if  they  give  heed  to  religion  when 
they  shall  have  reason  to  apprehend  that  their  last 
day  is  not  distant.  But  the  toolish  virgins,  although, 
as  it  would  seem,  they  obtained  oil,  were  indig- 
nantly shut  out  from  the  banquet ;  what,  then,  is 
to  become  of  sinners,  who,  in  the  day  of  sickness, 
compelled  by  the  urgency  of  their  case,  and 
frightened  by  the  nearness  of  their  enil,  show  some- 
thing like  sorrow,  and  profess  something  like  (aith  ? 

1  own  that  nothing  makes  me  think  so  de- 
spondingly  of  those  who  wholly  neglect  God  till 
they  feel  themselves  dying,  as  this  rejection  of  the 
virgins,  who  would  not  begin  to  secK  oil  till  they 
found  the  bridegroom  at  hand,  and  then  obtained 
it  in  vain.  It  is  as  though  God  said,  "  If  you  will 
not  seek  ^Te  in  health,  if  you  will  not  think  of  Me 
till  sickness  tells  you  that  you  must  soon  enter  My 
presence,  1  will  surely  reject  you  ;  when  ye  knock 
at  the  door  and  say,  'Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us,'  I 
will  answer  from  within,  '  I  never  knew  you ; 
depart,  depart  from  Me.'"  We  dare  not  dwell 
upon  this  :  we  have  a  hundred  other  reasons  for 
being  suspicious  of  what  is  called  deaih-lied  re- 
pentance ;  but  this  seems  to  make  that  repentance 
— ay,  though  the  death  be  that  of  consumption, 
and  the  patient  linger  for  months  with  his  senses 
about  him,  and  his  time  apparently  given  to  the 
duties  of  religion — of  no  avail  whatever  ;  (or  if  the 
man  obstinately  neglected  God  till  alarmed  by  the 
hectic  spot  on  his  cheek,  that  hectic  spot  was  to 
him  what  the  midnight  cry  was  to  the  virgins,  the 
signal  that  the  bridegroom  was  near ;  and  what 
warrant  have  we  that  God  will  admit  him  to  the 
feast,  if  the  five  virgins  were  excluded  with  evr.ry 


REPENTANCE, 


(    718    ) 


REPENTANCE. 


mark  01  alihorrence,   tlionjh   tlisy  sought   for  oil, 
and  bought  it,  and  brought  it  ? 

—Melvill,  1798-1871. 

9.  The  case  of  the  psnltent  thief  affords  no 
argument  for  delay. 

(4257.)  As  a  prince  sometimes  pardoneth  a  male- 
factor when  he  is  come  to  the  very  place  of  execu- 
tion, yet  were  it  not  for  every  malefactor  to  trust 
thereuion,  for  that  this  is  but  an  extraordinary 
act  of  the  prince's  favour,  and  neither  shown  nor 
promised  to  all  men  :  even  so  no  man  ought  to 
flatter  and  deceive  himself  in  deferring  his  conversion 
by  alleging  the  example  of  the  penitent  thief,  saved 
even  at  the  last  hour  u]ion  the  cross,  and  carried  to 
Paiadise  that  same  day  with  Christ,  for  this  act  was 
a  special  miracle,  reserved  for  the  manifestation  of 
Christ's  power  and  glory  at  that  hour  upon  the 
cross  ;  and,  besides,  this  act  was  upon  a  most  rare 
confession  made  by  the  thief  at  that  instant  when 
almost  all  the  world  forsook  Christ. 

—  Cawdray,  1609. 

(4258.)  There  is  sometimes  a  tendency  to  regard 
the  grace  vouchsafed  to  this  penitent  as  exceptional, 
as  not  to  be  brought  witliin  the  ordinary  laws  of 
God's  dealings  with  the  children  of  men.  We  may 
sometimes  hear  it  said,  that  as  that  moment  when 
the  Son  of  God  hung  upon  the  cross  was  a  mtjment 
unlike  every  other  in  the  moral  and  spiritual  history 
of  tiie  worKI,  so  there  were  graces  vuuclisafed  then 
unlike  those  of  any  other  moment,  larger,  freer, 
more  marvellous;  such  as  were  proper  to  that  time 
and  no  other  ;  the  gates  of  mercy  being,  so  to  speak, 
thrown  open  more  widely  than  at  otiier  times  ;  and 
that  therefore  noconclusiuns  can  be  drawn  from  what 
then  found  place  as  to  wliat  will  find  place  when 
events  have  returned  to  tlieir  more  ordinary  course. 
This  is  sometimes  urged,  and  chiefly  out  of  a  desire 
to  withdraw  the  temptation  to  a  deferred  and  late 
repentance,  which  the  acceptance  of  this  penitent 
at  the  clasing  momen  of  his  life  might  else  seem 
to  hold,  out  to  others  I  confess  that  even  the 
desire  to  avert  such  an  abuse  cannot  persuade  me 
to  accept  this  explanation  of  the  grace  which  he 
obtained.  The  laws  of  Gud's  kingdom,  the  con- 
ditions under  which  grace  may  be  obtained,  are 
uncnangeable.  This  man  was  forgiven  exactly  on 
the  same  grounds  as  those  on  whicii  any  other  will 
find  pardon  and  accejitance,  because  he  repented 
and  believed,  and  obe}e(l.  Time  does  not  exist  for 
God  ;  and  if  only  this  repentance,  faith,  and 
obedience  of  his  "ere  genuine,  whether  they  were 
spread  over  the  forty  or  fifty  years  to  which  his  life 
in  the  natural  course  of  things  might  have  been 
prolonged,  or  concentrated  into  the  tew  hours  upon 
the  cross  which  he  actually  'lid  survive,  this  made 
and  could  make  no  difference  in  God's  sight.  I 
have  said  "  if  only  these  were  genuine,"  v\hich  in 
the  present  instance  we  know  that  certainly  they 
were  ;  for  this  is  the  fatal  danger  of  all  rejientance 
postponed  to  the  last,  and  thus  withdrawn  from  all 
trial  and  proof,  that  the  mivn,  little  as  he  may 
guess  this,  may  be  deceiving  himself;  that  in  all 
likeliliood  his  repentance  is  not  genuine,  is  not 
sincere  ;  that  almost  certainly  it  is  not  so,  when  it 
has  l<een  delerred  on  so  mean  a  speculati(<n  as  this, 
of  giving  to  God  the  least  and  olnaining  Irom  Him 
the  most,  grinding  the  corn  of  life,  anil,  according 
to  the  old  proverb,  giving  the  tlour  to  the  devil, 
and  only  tlie  bran  tc  God.     It  is  by  the  pressing  of 


this,  the  almost  universal  self-delusion  of  death-bed 
repentances,  that  we  most  rescue  this  scripture  from 
dangerous  abuse,  from  proving  a  temptation  and  a 
snare,  not  by  excepting  the  dealing  of  God  with 
this  man  from  the  category  of  His  usual  dealing* 
in  the  kingdom  of  His  grace  and  power. 

—  Trench- 

VII.  HOW  ITS  GENUINENESS  IS  TO  EB 
TESTED. 

1.  Not  by  Intensity  of  stiffering. 

{4259.)  You  must  not  place  the  chief  part  of  your 
religiim  in  humiliation,  as  if  it  •"ere  a  life  of  mere 
sorrow  that  we  are  called  to  by  the  Gospel.  Hut 
you  must  make  it  a  servant  to  your  faith,  and  love, 
and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  oihei  gracts.  As 
the  use  of  the  needle  is  but  to  make  way  for  ihe 
thread,  and  then  it  is  the  thread  and  not  the  netdle 
that  makes  the  seam  ;  so  much  of  our  sorrow  is  but 
to  prepare  for  faith  and  love,  and  these  are  they 
that  close  the  soul  with  Christ.  It  is  therefore  a 
sore  mistake  with  some  that  are  very  apprehensive 
of  their  want  of  sorrow  but  little  of  their  want  of 
faith  or  love,  and  that  pray  and  strive  to  break 
their  heart.s,  or  weep  for  sin,  but  not  much  for 
those  higher  graces  which  it  tendeth  to.  One  must 
be  done,  and  not  the  other  left  undone. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(4260.)  Wouldst  thou  know  wfhen  thou  hast 
been  humbled  enough  for  sin? — When  thou  art 
willing  to  let  go  thy  sins.  Then  the  gold  liaih  Iain 
long  enough  in  ihe  furnace  when  the  dross  is 
purged  out  ;  so  when  the  love  of  sin  is  purged  out, 
a  soul  is  humbled  enough  to  divine  acceptation, 
though  not  'o  divine  satisfaction.  Now  if  thou  art 
humbled  enoug.':  (though  not  so  much  as  others), 
what  needs  more?  If  a  needle  will  let  out  the 
imposthume,  what  needs  a  lance?  Be  not  more 
cruel  to  thyself  than  God  would  have  thee. 

—  I  Vat  son,  1696. 

(4261.)  It  is  the  sincerity  of  your  sorrow  for  sin 
at  which  God  looks,  not  at  the  measure  of  it.  li 
then  you  are  really  anxious  to  know  wliethei  you 
have  been  siilTiciently  humbled  for  sin,  ask  yourself. 
Are  you  so  humbled  for  sin  thai  you  are  willing  tc 
give  it  up?  The  refiner  does  not  ask  how  long  hai 
the  gold  remained  in  the  furnace  ;  he  asks,  is  the 
dross  purged  away? — is  the  baser  metal  burnt  up? 
If  it  be  so,  then  does  he  reiiuire  nothing  further  to 
convince  him  that  the  gold  has  been  sufficiently 
long  in  the  crucible.  So  if  humbling  yourselves  foi 
sin  has,  by  Gt)d's  grace,  piiigetl  away  your  love  for 
sin.  be  content  on  this  point,  although  many  of  the 
children  of  God  may  have  been  far  more  deeply 
tried,  and  far  more  painfully  humbled  for  it  thao 
jourselves.  — Salter, 

(4262.)  Some  well-meaning  Christians  tremble 
for  their  salvation,  because  they  have  never  ^.oiie 
throUi^li  that  valley  of  tears  and  of  sorrow,  wl  iih 
they  have  been  taught  to  consider  as  an  ordeal  iliat 
must  be  passed  through  before  they  can  arrive  at 
regeneration  :  to  satisfy  such  minds  it  11. ay  be 
observed  that  the  slightest  sorrow  for  sin  is  sutliii»;nt 
if  it  produce  amendment,  and  that  the  greaiesl  is 
insufficient  if  it  do  not.  Therefore,  by  their  own 
iruiis  let   them  prove  themselves :  for  some  soils 


REPENTANCE. 


(    719     ) 


REPENTANCES 


will  take  the  good  seed  without  being  watered  with 
tea  To  or  harrowed  tp  by  atttiction. 

— Col  ton,  1832. 

(4263.)  The  pains  of  repentance  are  only  good 
because  there  is  something  wrong  in  us:  we  take 
medicine  to  recover  our  health  :  repentance  is  a 
dark  road  through  whicii  vve  must  pass  of  necessity, 
but  we  must  not  seek  to  dwell  there  ;  alter  having 
sincerely  repented  and  made  our  peace  with  God, 
we  should  rejoice  in  this  peace,  for  God  has  not 
called  us  to  despcndency  and  despair,  but  to  joy 
and  gladness  and  salvation  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

2.  But  by  its  comprehensiveness  and  definlte- 
ness. 

(4264.)  Take  heed  ihou  prayest  not  with  a  reser- 
vation, be  sure  thou  renounccst  what  thou  wouldst 
have  God  remit.  God  will  never  remove  the  guilt 
so  long  as  thou  enteitainest  the  sin.  What  prince 
will  pardon  his  treason  that  means  to  continue  a 
traitor?  It  is  de^perate  folly  to  desire  God  to 
forgive  what  thou  intendest  to  commit.  Thou 
haiist  as  good  speak  out,  and  ask  leave  to  sin  with 
im})unity,  for  God  knows  the  language  of  thy  heart, 
and  needs  not  thy  tongue  to  be  an  interpreter. 
Some  princes  have  misi)laced  their  high  favours 
to  their  heavy  cost,  as  the  Emperor  Leo  Armenius, 
who  pardoned  thai  monster  of  ingratitude  Michael 
Halbus,  and  was  the  same  night  in  which  he  was 
delivered  out  of  prison  murdered  by  him.  But  the 
great  God  is  sObject  to  no  mistake  in  His  govern- 
ment ;  never  got  hypocrite  a  pardon  in  the  disguise 
of  a  saint.  He  will  call  thee  by  thy  own  name, 
though  thou  comest  to  Him  in  the  semblance  of  a 
penitent  ;  "  Come  in,  thou  wife  of  Jeroboam/'  said 
the  prophet.  Hyjiocrisy  is  too  thin  a  veil  to  blind 
the  eyes  of  the  Aimiglity.  Thou  mayest  put  thy 
own  eyes  out,  so  as  not  to  see  Him  ;  but  thou  canst 
never  blind  His  eyes  that  He  should  not  see  thee. 
— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4265.)  True  repentance  is  the  conversion  of  the 
«oul  from  sin  to  God,  and  leaveth  not  any  man  in 
the  pov\er  of  sin.  It  is  not  for  a  man  when  he  hath 
had  all  the  pleasure  that  sin  will  yield  him,  to  wish 
then  that  he  had  not  committed  it  (which  he  may 
do  then  at  an  easy  rate),  and  yet  to  keep  the  rest  that 
are  still  pleasant  and  profitable  to  his  flesh,  like  a 
man  that  casts  away  the  bottle  which  he  hatii  drunk 
empty,  but  keeps  that  which  is  full  ;  or  as  men  sell 
off  their  barren  kine,  and  buy  milch  ones  in  their 
stead.  This  kind  of  repentance  is  a  mockery,  and 
not  a  cure  for  the  soul.         — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4266.)  People  who  are  always  lamenting  their 
lack  of  feeling  are,  for  the  most  part,  those  who 
crave  some  vague  sense  of  the  turpitude  ol  human 
wrong-doing  in  general.  But  John  was  the  most 
personal  i>f  preachers.  He  pointed  out  the  ^iJecific 
sins  of  his  hearers.  He  listened  to  specific  confes- 
sions. He  gave  specific  exhortations.  Repentance 
of  a  general  sort  is  not  worth  the  while.  If  you 
will  regret  your  sins,  drag  out  your  own  [)articuiar 
wrong-doing  and  look  at  it.  Do  not  weep  over 
Adam's  lall,  nor  repent  of  the  general  depravity  of 
man,  but  turn  with  loathing  and  regret  from  that 
which  defiles  youx  own  life.  II  you  are  stingy,  or 
greedy,  or  eri».ious,  or  lustful,  or  smally  seltiih,  or 
ill-it-mpered,  or  censorious,  or  lazy,  remember  that 
one  tear  over  your  speciiic  sin  ia  belter  than  a  thou- 


sand shed  from  a  vague  sense  of  general  unwortM* 
ness.  — hgglesion. 

3.  By  Its  continuousness. 

(4267.)  Repentance  has  a  purifying  power,  and 
every  tear  is  of  a  cleansing  virtue  ;  but  these  peni- 
tential clouds  must  be  still  dropping  ;  one  shower 
will  not  suffice,  for  repentance  is  not  one  single 
action,  but  a  course.  We  may  here  com[iare  llie 
soul  to  a  linen  cloth  ;  it  must  be  first  washed,  to 
take  off  its  native  hue  and  colour  and  to  make  it 
white  ;  and  afterwards  it  must  be  ever  and  anon 
washed  to  preserve  and  to  keep  it  white.  In  like 
manner  the  soul  must  be  cleansed,  first  from  a 
state  of  sin  by  converting  repentance,  and  so  made 
pure,  and  afterwards,  by  a  daily  repentance,  it  must 
be  purged  from  those  actual  stains  that  ii  contracts, 
and  so  be  kept  pure.  It  is  an  enjoj'ment  and  a 
privilege  reserved  for  heaven,  "not  to  need  repent- 
ance," and  the  reason  of  this  is,  because  the  cause 
of  it  will  be  taken  away.  But  here  tiiis  pitch  ol 
perfection  is  not  lo  be  hoped  for.  We  cannot 
expect  that  God  should  totally  wipe  these  tears  from 
our  eyes  till  He  has  taken  all  sin  out  of  our  hearts. 
Till  it  be  our  power  and  privilege  not  to  sin,  it  ia 
still  our  duty  to  repent.  — South,  1633-1716. 

(4268.)  Let  me  remind  you  that  repentance  is  a 
duty  of  greater  extent  than  many  are  apt  to  suppose, 
who,  confining  their  view  on  such  occasions  as  these 
to  a  few  of  the  grosser  disorders  of  their  lives,  pay 
little  attention  to  the  heart  :  they  are  satisfied  with 
feeling  a  momenlary  comjiunction  and  attempting 
a  partial  reformation,  instead  of  crying  with  the 
royal  penitent,  ^'■Create  in  t?ie  a  clean  heart  T'' 
They  determine  to  break  off  particular  vices, — 
an  excellent  resolution  as  far  as  it  goes, — without 
proposing  to  themselves  a  life  of  habitual  devotion, 
without  imploring,  under  a  sense  of  weakness,  that 
grace  which  can  alone  renew  the  heart,  making,  in 
the  words  of  our  Lord,  the  tree  gooii,  that  the  Iruit 
may  be  good  also.        — Robert  Hall,  1764-1831. 

4.  By  its  leading  to  amendment  of  life. 

(4269.)  Godly  sorrow  works  a  change  and  altera- 
tion to  amendment  of  life ;  but  the  hypocrite, 
though  he  hangs  down  his  head  like  a  bulrush  for 
a  d^iy,  and  blubbers  his  face  with  tears,  yet  either 
he  leaves  not  his  sin  at  all,  or  only  as  he  haves  ant^l 
jnits  off  his  clothes,  with  a  purpose  to  resume  and 
put  them  on  the  next  day.        — Downame,  1644. 

(4270.)  Repenting  is  a  sorrowful  turning  of  the 
heart  from  sin  to  God.  You  repent  not  il  you  turn 
not.  To  mock  God  with  such  hypocritical  piaying 
and  re])entiiig,  is  itsell  a  heinous  sin.  Will  you 
take  il  for  repenting  if  a  man  that  spils  in  your 
face  and  beateth  you,  shall  do  it  every  day,  -and 
ask  your  forgiveness  at  night,  and  propose  lo  do  it 
still,  because  he  asked  forgiveness? 

— Baxter,  1615- 1 691. 

(4271.)  Some  mistake  a  fruitless  sorrow  for  s^D 
to  be  repentance.  And  because  they  do  not  sit 
down  altogether  quiet  and  contented  under  sin,  bul 
are  in  motion,  they  judi;e  that  they  are  going  for- 
wards. T'Ut  let  a  xw^w  put  lum-elf  in  any  pait  of 
the  circumference  of  a  circle,  and  continue  to  move 
in  it,  il  is  umieniable  that  he  is  in  motion,  but  it  is 
as  clear  that  he  makes  no  progress  in  advancing 
lorwaids.      So  these  men  sin  and  repen'.  and  aitei 


REPROOF. 


i    720    ) 


REPROOF. 


repentance  they  sin ;  and  walking  in  a  continual 
circle  of  repentings  and  relapsings,  take  not  one 
step  towards  heaven.  — Salter. 

(4272.)  John  did  not  demand  tears.  He  did  not 
ask  that  a  committee  or  a  church-session  should 
probe  the  hearts  of  his  hearers  to  find  out  how  deep 
their  convictions  of  sin  might  be.  He  demanded 
oulwnrd  and  substantial  evidence.  "  Bring  forth 
fruits  meet  for  repentance."  He  did  not  demand 
iliat  they  should  sit  every  evening  for  weeks  on  an 
aixious  seat,  or  that  they  should  frequent  inquiry- 
meetings  for  months.  If  you  are  sorry,  show  it  by 
doing  better,  he  said.  Let  honester,  purer,  and 
kindlier  lives  be  proof  of  the  sincerity  of  your 
penitence.  If  you  have  two  coats,  give  one  to 
some  coatless  man.  That  is  better  than  any 
amount  of  anguish  over  sinfulness  in  general. 

—Kggleston. 

6.  By  Its  leading  to  watchfulness  against  sin. 

(4273.)  He  that  is  truly  resolved  against  any  sin, 
is  likewise  resolved  against  the  occasions  and  temp- 
tations that  would  draw  him  to  it  :  otherwise  he 
hath  taken  up  a  rash  and  foolish  resolution,  which 
he  is  not  like  to  keep,  because  he  did  not  resolve 
upon  that  which  was  necesstry  to  the  keeping  of  it. 
.So  lie  that  resolves  upon  any  part  of  his  duty  must 
likewise  resolve  upon  the  means  which  are  neces- 
sary to  the  performance  of  it :  he  that  is  resolved 
to  pay  his  debts  must  be  diligent  in  his  calling, 
because  without  this  he  cannot  do  the  other,  lor 
nothing  can  be  more  vain  than  for  a  man  to 
pretend  that  he  is  resolved  upon  doing  his  duty, 
when  he  neglects  anything  that  is  necessary  to 
further  him  in  the  discharge  of  it.  This  is  as  if  a 
man  should  resolve  to  be  well,  and  yet  be  careless 
in  observing  the  rules  which  are  prescribed  in  order 
to  his  health.  Sc  for  a.  man  to  resolve  against 
drunkenness,  and  yet  to  run  himself  upon  the  temp- 
tations which  naturally  lead  to  it  by  frequenting 
the  company  of  lewd  and  intemperate  persons, 
this  is  as  if  a  man  should  resolve  against  the  plague 
and  run  into  the  pest-house. 

—  Tillotson,  1630-1694. 


REPROOF. 

I.    A    CHRISTIAN  DUTY. 

(4274.)  Who  is  so  kind  and  gentle  as  the  surgeon 
with  his  knife?  He  that  is  to  be  cut  cries,  yet  cut 
he  is  ;  he  that  is  to  be  cauterised  cries,  but  cauter- 
ised he  is.  This  is  not  cruelty  ;  on  no  account  let 
that  surgeon's  treatment  be  called  cruelty.  Cruel 
he  is  against  the  wounded  part,  that  the  patient  may 
be  cured  ;  for  if  the  wound  be  softly  dealt  with, 
the  man  is  lost. 

Thus,  then,  I  would  advise,  that  we  love  our 
orethren,  howsoever  they  may  have  sinned  against 
us ;,  that  we  let  not  affection  toward  them  depart 
out  of  our  hearts,  and  that,  when  need  is,  've  exer- 
cise discipline  towards  them  ;  lest  by  relaxation  ol 
discipline,  wickedness  increase. 

—Augustine,  353-429. 

(4275-)  As  he  who  seeth  a  man  commit  murder, 
and  standeth  by  without  giving  forth  anything  to 
show  the  murderer  his  dislike  ol  the  deed,  is  worthy 
to  be  accounted  accessory  to  the  murder  ;  or  as  he 
tflat  seeth   a  blind  man  running  into  a  pit,  and 


neither  stays  him  from  running  intc  it  nor  ye» 
helpeth  him  out,  but  letteth  him  there  be  drowned, 
is  guilty  of  his  death:  even  so  is  he  to  be  accounted 
who  seeih  his  brother  kill  his  soul  by  sinning  and 
will  not  endeavour  to  do  what  he  can,  by  rebuking 
him,  to  stay  him  from  so  doing. 

— Cawdray,  1 609. 

(4276.)  What  love  dost  thou  show  to  thy  neigh- 
bour, if  thou  seest  him  woundmg  and  piercing  his 
inestimable  soul,  and  thou  dost  not  endeavour 
(though  against  his  will)  to  hold  his  hand  ?  If 
thou  shouklest  see  him  take  a  knife  to  stab  himself 
at  the  heart,  thou  wouldest  not  stay  to  ask  his 
leave,  or  fear  his  anger,  but  do  thy  utmost  to 
hinder  him  ;  and  canst  thou  see  him  destroying  hii 
soul,  and  not  seek  to  prevent  hi.ni  ? 

— Sivinnock,  1 673. 

(4277.)  There  is  a  special  obligement  upon  friends 
to  be  helpful  to  one  another  herein.  The  laws  of 
friendship  require  a  discovery  of  that  which  en- 
dangers one  another.  You  would  count  him  un- 
worthy the  name  of  a  friend  who,  knowing  a  thief 
or  an  incendiary  to  lurk  in  your  family  with  a 
design  to  kill,  or  rob,  or  burn  your  house,  would 
conceal  it  from  you,  and  not  acquaint  you  with  it 
on  his  own  accord.  There  is  no  such  thief,  mur- 
derer, incendiary,  as  sin ;  it  more  endangers  us 
and  those  concernments  that  are  more  precious 
than  goods,  or  house,  or  life  ;  and  liiat  most  en- 
dangers us  by  which  the  Lord's  anger  is  already 
kindled  against  us.  Silence  or  concealment  in  this 
case  is  treachery.  He  is  the  most  faithful  friend, 
and  worthy  of  most  esteem  and'affection,  that  deals 
most  plainly  with  us  in  reference  to  the  discovery 
of  our  sin.  He  that  is  reserved  in  this  case  is  but 
a  false  friend,  a  mere  pretender  to  love,  whereas, 
indeed,  he  hates  his  brother  in  his  heart  (Lev.  xix. 
17).  — Clarkson,  1621-16S6, 

II.  THINGS  THAT  HINDER  MEN  FROM 
PERFORMING   IT. 

1.  Fear  of  presuming. 

(4278.)  In  the  way  of  our  callings,  every  good 
Christi.in  is  a  teacher,  and  hath  a  charge  of  hi» 
neighbour's  soui.  Let  it  be  only  the  voice  of  a 
Cain  to  say,  "Am  I  my  broilier's  keeper?"  I 
would  liave  one  of  these  men,  that  are  so  loth  that 
private  men  should  teach  them,  to  tell  me,  what  if 
a  man  fall  down  in  a  swoon  in  the  streets,  tliough 
it  be  your  father  or  superior,  would  you  not  take 
him  up  presently,  and  use  all  means  you  could  to 
recover  him  ?  or  would  you  let  him  lie  and  die,  and 
say,  "  It  is  the  work  of  the  physician,  and  not 
mine  ;  I  will  not  invade  the  piiy.sician's  calling." 
In  two  cases  every  man  is  a  physician.  First, 
in  case  of  necessity,  and  when  a  physician  cannot 
be  had.  And  secondly,  in  ca.^e  the  hurt  be  so  small 
that  every  man  can  do  as  well  as  the  physician. 
And  in  the  same  two  cases  every  man  must  be  & 
teacher.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

2.  Fear  of  offending  our  friends. 

(4279.)  Another  hindrance  is,  a  base  man- 
pleasing  disposition  that  is  in  us.  We  are  so  loth 
to  displease  men,  and  so  desirous  to  keep  in  credit 
and  favour  with  them,  that  it  makes  us  most  un- 
conscionably neglect  our  known  duty.  A  foolish 
physician  he  is,  and  a  most  unfaithful  friend,  that 


REPROOF. 


(  721  ; 


REPROOF. 


will  let  a  sick  man  die  for  fear  of  troubling  liim  ; 
and  cruel  wretches  are  we  to  our  frientis,  that  will 
rather  suffer  them  to  go  quietly  to  hell,  than  we 
will  anger  them,  or  hazard  our  reputation  with 
then).  If  they  did  but  fall  in  a  swoon  we  would 
rub  them  and  pinch  them,  and  never  stick  at  liurt- 
inL;  them.  If  they  were  distracted  we  would  bind 
them  wiih  chains,  and  we  should  please  them  in 
nothing  that  tended  to  their  hurt  ;  and  yet,  when 
they  are  beside  themselves  in  point  of  salvation, 
and  in  their  madness  posting  on  to  damnation,  we 
will  not  stop  them  for  fear  of  displeasing  them. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

3.  A  consciousness  of  personal  Imperfections. 

(4280.)  A  person  who  objects  to  tell  a  friend  of 
his  faults  because  he  has  faults  of  his  own,  acts  as 
a  surgeon  would  who  should  refuse  to  diess  another 
person's  wounds  because  he  had  a  dangerous  one 
himself.  — Cecil,  1 748-1 810. 

III.  DEMANDS  RECTITUDE  IN  THE  RE- 
P  ROVER. 

(4281.)  Nowadays  men  take  upon  them  to 
reprove  others  for  committing  such  things  as  them- 
selves have  practised,  and  do  practise  without 
amenciment,  notwithstanding  their  diligence  in 
teaching  others  their  duty.  They  can  teach  all  the 
doctrine  of  Christ,  saving  three  syllables — "  Follow 
Me  !  "  'I'herefore  these  are  like  some  tailors,  who 
are  busy  in  decking  and  tricking  up  others,  but  go 
both  bare  and  beggarly  themselves. 

— Henry  Smith,  1592. 

(4282.)  Before  thou  reprehend  another,  take  heed 
thou  art  not  culpable  in  what  thou  goest  about  to 
reprehend.  He  that  cleanses  a  blot  with  blotted 
fingers  makes  a  greater  blur. 

— Quarles,  1592- 1644. 

(4283.)  The  eye  which  is  filled  with  dust  can 
never  see  clearly  the  spot  that  is  in  anotiier's  face  ; 
nor  that  hand  which  is  besmeared  with  mire  wash 
any  other  member  clean  ;  nor  that  man  who  is 
Coirupted  with  sin  do  any  good  when  he  reproves 
his  own  sin  in  another.  He  mu^t  needs  be  clean 
himself  that  goes  about  to  cleanse  another. 

— G.   Williams,  1 589-1672. 

(4284.)  If  my  carriage  be  unblamable,  ray  coun- 
icl  and  reproof  will  be  the  more  acceptable.  Whole- 
some meat  olten  is  disiastelul,  coming  out  of  nasty 
hantls.  A  bad  liver  cannot  be  a  good  counsellor  or 
bold  reprover  ;  such  a  man  must  speak  softly  for 
fear  of  awaking  his  own  guilty  conscience.  If  the 
bell  be  cracked,  the  sound  must  needs  be  jarring. 
— Hwinnock,  1673. 

(4285.)  It  behoves  him  that  would  counsel  or 
reprove  another,  says  Tertullian,  to  guard  his 
speech,  by  the  authority  of  his  own  good  walk, 
lest,  wanting  that,  what  he  says  should  put  himself 
to  the  blush.  We  do  not  love  one  that  hath  foul 
breath  to  come  very  near  us,  and  truly  we  count 
that  one  comes  very  near  us  that  reproves  us  ;  such, 
therefore,  had  need  have  a  sweet-scented  life. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4286.)  The  vicious  reprcving  vice,  is  the  raven 
chiding  blackne&s.  —  Eliza  Cook. 


IV.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  ADMINISTERED. 

1.  Seasonably. 

(4287.)  Use  not  liberty  of  reproof  in  the  days  ol 
sorrow  and  affliction  ;  for  the  calamity  itself  'm 
enough  to  chastise  the  gaieties  of  sinning  persons, 
and  to  bring  them  to  repentance  :  it  may  le  some- 
times fit  to  insinuate  the  mention  of  the  cause  o( 
that  sorrow  in  order  to  repentance  and  a  cure  ;  but 
severe  and  biting  language  is  then  out  of  season, 
and  it  is  like  putting  vinegar  to  an  inflamed  and 
smarting  eye — it  increases  the  anguish  and  tempts 
unio  impatience.  In  the  accidents  of  a  sad  person, 
we  must  do  as  nurses  do  to  their  falling  children, 
snatch  them  up  and  still  their  cryings,  and  entertain 
their  passion  with  some  delightful  avocation  ;  but 
chide  not  then,  when  the  sorrowful  man  needs  to  b« 
refreshed.  —Jeretny  Taylor,  161 2-1 667. 

(4288.)  Reproof  ought  to  be  in  season,  neither 
when  the  brain  is  misted  with  arising  fumes,  nor 
when  the  mind  is  maddened  with  unreined  passions. 
Certainly,  he  is  drunk  himself  that  profanes  reason 
so  as  to  urge  it  to  a  d.unken  man.  Nature 
unloosed  in  a  flying  speed  cannot  come  off  with  a 
sudden  stop. 

"  Qids  mntrem,  nisi  mentis  in  ops,  in  funere  nati 
FUre  vetat  ?  non  hoc  uila  monenda  loco  est :  " 

"  He's  mad  that  dries  a  mother's  eyes'  full  tide 
At  her  son's  grave  :  there  'tis  no  lime  to  chide  :" 

was  the  opinion  of  the  smoothest  poet.  To  ad- 
monish a  man  in  the  height  of  his  passion  is  to  call 
a  soldier  to  counsel  in  the  midst— in  the  heat  of  a 
battle.  Let  the  combat  slack,  and  then  thou  mayest 
expect  a  hearing.  All  passions  are  like  rapid 
torrents  ;  they  swell  the  more  for  meeting  with  a 
dam  in  their  violence.  He  that  will  hear  nothing 
in  the  rage  and  roar  of  his  anger  will,  after  a  pause, 
inquire  of  you — seem  you  to  forget  him,  and  he  will 
the  sooner  remeir.ber  himself.  For  it  often  falls 
out  that  the  end  of  passion  is  the  beginning  of 
repentance.  'J'hen  it  will  be  easy  to  draw  back  a 
retiring  man  ;  as  a  boat  is  rowed  with  le-^s  labour 
wlien  it  has  both  a  wind  and  tide  to  drive  it.  A 
word  seasonably  given,  liUe  a  rudder,  sometimes 
steers  a  man  quite  into  another  course.  A  blow 
bestowed  in  the  striking  time  is  better  than  ten 
delivered  unseasonably.  — ttllthain,  1668. 

(42S9.)  Reprehension  is  not  necessary  or  con- 
venient at  all  seasons.  Admonition  is  like  physic, 
rather  profitable  than  pleasant  ;  now  the  best 
physic  may  be  thrown  away,  if  a  fit  time  of  giving 
it  be  not  observed.  Some  unskilful  physicians  have 
wronged  their  patients  in  administering  suitable 
potions  out  of  season. 

Sometimes  ?  sudden  reproof,  upon  the  commis- 
sion of  the  sin,  has  reform^  the  sinner  ;  but  this 
is  not  always  safe.  When  mens'  spirits  are  hot, 
and  their  minds  drunk  with  passion,  they  are  more 
apt  to  beat  the  Christian  than  to  hear  his  counsel. 
Abigail  would  not  tell  Nabal  of  his  danger  till  he 
was  sober. 

But  if  there  be  no  probability  of  a  better  season, 
after  some  ejaculations  to  heaven  for  as-istance  and 
success,  take  the  present  opportunity.  Fabius 
conquered  by  delaying,  but  Caesar  overcame  by 
expedition.  Though  it  is  not  ordinarily  so  good 
to  sow  corn  when  the  wind  is  high,  yet  the  husband* 

2  Z 


REPROOF. 


(    722     ) 


REPROOF. 


man  will  rather  do  it  in  such  weather  than  not  at 
all,  or  than  want  his  harvest.  As  the  bird  often 
flies  away  whil-t  the  fowler  still  seeks  to  get  nearer 
and  nearer  to  her,  so  does  a  season  of  advantaging 
our  breth.ren's  souls  whilst  we  wait  still  for  a  titter. 
It  is  thy  duty,  therefore,  to  take  hold  of  the  present, 
where  thou  hast  no  likelihood  of  another  ;  and  to 
imwrove  the  first  gooil  opportunity,  rather  than 
adventure  the  loss  of  all  by  expecting  a  better. 

— Sunnnock,  1673. 

(4290.)  When  the  earth  is  soft,  the  plough  will 
snter.  Take  a  man  when  he  is  under  aflliction,  or  in 
the  house  of  mourning,  or  newly  stirred  by  some 
moving  ^eimon,  and  then  set  it  home,  and  you  may 
do  him  good.  Christian  faithfulness  doth  require 
us,  not  only  to  do  gond  when  it  falls  in  our  way, 
but  to  watch  for  opportunities  of  doing  good. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

2.  Privately. 

(4291.)  A  monitor  ought,  in  the  first  place,  to 
have  a  regard  to  the  delicacy  and  sense  of  shame  of 
the  person  admonished.  For  they  who  are  hardened 
aj-iiiist  a  blush  are  incorrigible. 

— Epicletus,  B.C.  60. 

(4292.)  A  reprover  is  like  one  that  is  taking  a 
mote  out  of  his  brother's  eye  ;  now  this  must  be 
done  very  tenderly.  For  this  purpose  it  would  be 
convenient,  where  it  may  be,  that  reproofs  be  given 
privately. 

"  If  thy  brother  ofiTend  thee,  tell  him  his  fault 
between  him  and  thee."  Tiie  presence  of  many 
may  make  him  take  up  an  unjust  defence,  who  in 
private  would  have  taken  u|)on  him  a  just  shame. 
The  open  air  makes  sores  to  rankle — other's  crimes 
are  not  to  be  cried  at  the  market.  Private  reproof 
is  the  best  giave  to  bury  private  faults  in. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(4293.)  A  man  may,  by  a  parable  or  an  history 
pertinent  to  the  purpose,  convince  a  sinner's  consci- 
ence and  not  openly  injure  his  credit.  Paul,  in  his 
sermon  to  Felix,  seemed  to  shoot  at  random,  not 
naming  any,  but  his  arrow  pierced  that  unrighteous 
prince  to  the  quick.  A  wise  reprover  in  this  is  like 
a  good  fencer,  who,  though  he  strike  one  part,  yet 
none  that  stand  by  could  perceive  Irom  his  eye,  or 
the  carriage  of  his  arm,  that  he  aimed  at  that  more 
than  the  rest.  — ^winnock,  1673. 

3.  Discreetly. 

(i.)  IVith  due  regard  tc  the  social  position  of  the 
offender. 

(4294.)  It  is  an  excellent  example  that  Paul 
givelh  us  (Gal.  ii.  2.)  He  comniunicateth  the 
gospel  to  them,  yet  privately  to  them  of  reputa- 
tion, lest  he  should  run  in  vain.  Some  men  would 
take  this  to  be  a  sinful  complying  with  their  cor- 
ruption, to  yield  so  far  to  their  piide  and  bashful- 
ness  as  to  teach  them  only  in  private,  because  they 
would  be  ashamed  to  own  the  truth  in  public.  But 
Paul  knew  how  great  a  hindrance  men's  reputation 
is  to  their  entertaniing  oi  the  truth,  and  that  the 
remedy  must  not  only  be  fitted  to  the  disease,  but 
also  to  the  strength  of  the  patient,  and  that  in  so 
doing,  the  physician  is  not  guilty  of  favouring  the 
disease,  but  is  praiseworthy  lor  taking  the  right 
way  to  cure  it  ;  and  that  learners  and  young  begin- 
ners must  not  be  dealt  with  as  open  professors. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 


(2.)  With  due  regard  to  the  disposition  of  tkt 
offender. 

(4295.)  There  must  not  be  one  uniform  proceeding 
with  all  men  in  reprehension  ;  but  that  must  vary 
according  to  the  disposition  of  the  reprovcil.  [ 
have  seen  some  men  as  thorns,  which  easily  touched 
hurt  not  ;  but  if  hard  and  unwarily,  fetch  blood  of 
the  hand  :  others  as  nettles,  which  if  they  be  nicely 
handled,  sling  and  prick  ;  but  if  hard  and  roughly 
pressed,  are  pulled  up  without  harm.  Before  I 
take  any  man  in  hand,  1  will  know  whether  he  be 
a  thorn  or  a  nettle.  — Hall,  1574-1656. 

(4296.)  Some  in  their  fainting  fits  are  recovered 
easily  with  throwing  some  cold  water  on  their 
faces ;  others  must  be  beaten  and  rubbed  very  hard. 
"Of  some  have  compassion,  making  a  difference, 
and  others  save  with  fear."  Some  are  like  tiled 
houses,  that  can  admit  a  brand  of  tire  to  fall  upon 
them  and  not  be  burned  ;  yet  some  again  are 
covered  with  light  dry  straw,  which  vvith  the  least 
touch  will  kindle  and  flame  about  your  ears.  By 
screwing  strings  moderately,  we  may  make  good 
n:usic,  but  if  too  high,  we  break  them.  All  the 
strings  of  a  viol  are  not  of  equal  strength,  nor  will 
entlure  to  be  wound  up  to  the  same  pitch.  We  may 
soothe  a  lion  into  bondage,  but  sooner  hew  him  in 
pieces  than  beat  him  into  a  chain.  A  difference 
ought  to  be  observed  between  party  and  party  ;  an 
exhortation  will  do  more  vv'iih  some  than  a  severe 
commination  with  others.  The  siur<ly  oak  will  not 
be  so  easily  bowed  as  the  gentle  willow. 

— Swinnock,  1 673. 

(3.)    With  due  regard  to  the  faults  of  the  off'e^tder. 

(4297.)  Wise  physicians  will  distinguish  between 
a  pimple  and  a  plague-sore.  Those  that  sin  of 
inhiiuity  are  to  be  admonished  more  mildly  than 
those  that  sin  obstinately.  Who  would  give  as 
great  a  blow  to  kill  a  fly  as  to  kill  an  ox  ?  Old 
festered  sores  must  be  handled  in  a  rougher  manner 
than  green  wounds.  Ordinary  physic  will  serve 
for  a  distemper  newly  begun,  but  a  chronic 
disease  must  have  harsher  and  stronger  purges. 
Some  offend  ignoranlly,  others  out  of  contumacy; 
some  offend  out  of  weakness,  being  overborne  tjy  a 
suilden  passion  ;  others  of  premeditated  contrived 
wickedness  and  perverseness  ;  some  sins  are  of  a 
lower  nature,  ol  lesser  moment  and  influence  upon 
others ;  other  sins  overthrow  the  foundations  of 
Christianity,  and  devour  the  vitals  of  religion. 
Now,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  disease  and 
constitution  of  the  patients  must  be  the  prescription 
for  their  cure.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4. )  With  frank  acknowledgment  of  the  excellences 
of  the  offender. 

(4298.)  I  see  iron  fir.''t  heated  red-hot  in  the  hrc, 
and  ailcrwards  beaten  and  hardened  with  cold  water. 
Thus  will  1  deal  with  an  oftending  friend :  first 
heat  him  with  deserved  praise  of  liis  virtue,  and 
then  beat  U|.)on  him  with  reprehension.  So  good 
nurses,  when  their  children  are  (alien,  first  lake 
them  up  and  speak  them  fair,  and  chide  tlieiu 
aflerwaids.  Gentle  speech  is  a  good  preparative 
for  rigour.  He  shall  see  that  I  love  him  by  my 
approbation  j  and  that  1  love  not  his  faults  by  my 
reproof.  — /Jail,  1 574-1656. 

(4299.)  If  we  would  reprove  another  with  success, 
and  convince  him  that  he  is  in  the  wrong,  we  must 


REPROOF. 


(  7*3  ) 


REPROOF. 


observe  in  what  point  of  view  he  looks  on  the 
affair  ;  because  in  that  way  it  generally  is  as  lie 
iiuai^ines,  and  aCknowleJi;e  that  he  is  iO  far  in  the 
iiglit.  lie  will  be  pleased  with  this,  because  it 
iniimates,  not  that  he  was  mistaken,  but  only  that 
he  had  not  considered  the  thing  on  all  sides. 
Fur  we  do  not  feci  it  any  (lisgiace  not  to  see 
everything;  but  we  do  nut  like  to  acknowleilge 
that  we  liave  been  deceived  ;  and  perhaps  the 
reason  of  this  may  be,  that  the  understanding  is  not 
deceived  in  that  point  of  view  in  which  it  actually 
Considers  the  subject,  just  as  the  simple  perceptions 
of  the  senses  are  always  true. 

— Pascal,  1622-1662. 

(4300.)  Give  the  offender  his  due  praise  as  well 
is  his  deserved  reproof;  this  will  somewhat  allay  his 
passion,  and  make  reproof  the  more  prevalent. 
The  iron  when  heated  red-hot  in  the  fire  is  bent 
and  beaten  afterwards,  without  breaking,  which  way 
the  smith  pleases.  When  I  have  healed  him  hot 
with  the  fire  of  commendation,  I  may  then  beat 
upon  him  with  reproof  in  greater  hopes  of  success. 
\Ve  take  pills  the  beUer  when  they  are  well  gilt  ; 
children  lick  up  their  medicines  the  more  freely 
when  they  are  sprinkled  with  a  little  sugar. 

Wise  commanders,  when  their  soldiers  are 
making  a  dishonourable  retreat,  do  not  presently 
upbraid  them  with  cowardice,  but  often,  by  mention- 
ing their  former  heroic  courage,  or  their  ancestors' 
noble  carriage,  inflame  them  with  a  <lesire  to  con- 
tinue their  repute  and  credit.  Sometimes  indirect 
reprehension  has  wrought  much  good. 

— ^wiiinock,  1673. 

(5.)  So  as  not  to  discourage. 

(4301.)  In  the  lopjjing  of  these  trees,  experience 
and  good  husbandry  hath  taught  men  to  leave  one 
bough  still  growing  in  the  top,  the  better  to  draw 
up  the  snp  from  the  root.  The  like  wisdom  is  fit 
to  be  observed  in  censures,  which  are  intended 
altogether  for  reformation,  not  for  destruction.  So 
must  they  t)c  inflicted,  that  the  patient  be  not 
utterly  discouraged  and  stripped  of  hope  and  com- 
fort; but  that,  u  iiile  he  sufleielli,  lie  may  feel  his  good 
tendered,  and  his  amendment  both  aimed  at  and 
expected.  — //a//,  1574- 1656. 

(6.)   The  wi/iortance  of  reproving  discreetly. 

(4302.)  The  manner  of  the  application  may  turn 
the  lieneht  into  an  injury  ;  and  then  it  both  streng- 
tliens  error  and  wounds  the  giver.  Correction  is 
never  in  vain.  Vice  is  a  miry  deepness  ;  if  thou 
strivest  to  help  one  out,  and  dost  not,  thy  stirring 
him  sinks  him  in  the  further.  Fury  is  the  madder 
for  his  chain.  — Felltham,  1668. 

(4303.)  Reproof  must  be  warily  given  ;  for  it  is 
like  a  razor,  whose  edge  is  keen,  ami  tiierelore  the 
sooner  rebated.  It  is  dangciuus  to  give  a  medicine 
Stronger  than  the  disease  and  constitution  of  the 
patient  require.  — ::>winnock,  1673. 

(4304.)  There  is  hardly  any  work  of  Christianity 
which  requires  more  wisdom  ihan  this  of  admonition. 
The  temper  and  quality  uf  the  persons,  the  nature 
and  difleience  of  the  crimes,  the  manner  and  way 
of  delivering  the  reproof,  the  fittest  season  for  it, 
ought  all  ti  be  seriously  and  diligently  considered. 
The  rebuke  of  sin  is  aptly  resembled  to  the  iishing 
for  V'halcs  :  the  mark  is  big  enough,  one  can  hardly 
miss  hitiing  ;  but  if  tnere  oe  not  sea-roora  enough 


and  line  enough,  and  a  dexterity  in  letting  out  tha'. 
line,  he  that  tixes  his  harpiiig-iron  in  the  whale 
enilangers  both  himself  and  his  boat.  kepr>uf 
strikes  an  iron,  as  it  were,  into  the  con'^rieiice  H 
the  offender,  which  makes  him  struggle  an  I  si  live 
to  draw  the  reprover  into  the  sea,  to  brii  g  hmi  uitr 
disgrace  and  contempt  ;  but  if  the  line  be  prudently 
handled,  and  not  pulled  too  straight  nor  too  quick, 
the  sinner  may  be  drawn  to  the  reprover  and  saved. 
Bone-setters  must  deal  very  warily  ;  and  physic 
is  given  with  grave  advice,  and  in  dangerous  cased 
not  without  a  consultation.       — Swinnock,  1673. 

4,  Faithfully  and  seriously. 

(4305.)  Severity  and  sharpness  may  in  some  casei 
well  agree  with  the  truest  Iriendliness.  "  KebuUv 
them  sharply,"  says  Paul  to  Titus,  of  some,  "that 
they  may  be  sound  in  the  faith."  And,  to  use  a 
heathen  man's  compaiison  ;  a  surgeon  had  he  two 
persons  to  cut  for  the  stone,  the  one  ids  dear  friend, 
the  other  a  mere  stranger,  would  he  be  so  loolish, 
think  you,  out  of  love  and  favour  to  his  friend,  as 
to  cut  him  with  a  blunier  tool  or  razor  than  he 
would  cut  the  other  with  ? 

— Gataker,  1574-1654. 

(4306.)  Reprove  seriously.  Reproof  is  an  edged 
tool,  and  must  not  be  jested  with.  Cold  ie[)ruuii 
are  like  the  noi-e  of  cannons  a  great  way  off,  no- 
thing affrighting  us.  He  that  reproves  sin  merrily, 
as  one  that  takes  a  pride  to  show  his  wit  and  ta 
make  the  company  laugh,  will  destroy  the  sinner 
instead  of  the  sin.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4307.)  The  apostle  enjoins  Titus  to  "reprove 
sharply," — the  word  \%  ctittmgly,  —  "that  they  may 
be  sound  in  the  faith."  He  that  minds  his  patient's 
health  will  not  toy  or  trifle  or  play  with  his  mortal 
diseases  ;  the  flesh  must  leel  the  plaster,  or  it  will 
never  eat  up  the  corruption  in  it.  Shouidest  thou 
apply  an  healing  plaster  to  skin  the  wound  aloft, 
when  there  is  need  of  a  corrosive  to  take  aw:iy  the 
dead  tlesli,  thou  wouldest  be  false  and  unfailliiul  to 
thy  friend.  Reproof,  like  salt,  must  have  in  it 
both  sharpness  and  savouriness. 

Admonition  without  serious  ai'iilication  is  like 
an  arrow  with  too  many  feathers,  which,  tiiough  we 
level  at  the  mark,  is  taken  by  the  wind  and  carried 
quite  away  from  it. 

Some  men  shoot  their  reprehensions,  like  pellets 
through  a  trunk,  with  no  more  strength  than  will 
kill  a  sparrow.  Those  make  sinners  believe  that 
sin  is  no  such  dreadful  evil,  and  the  wrath  of  Ciod 
no  such  Iriglitful  end.  He  that  would  hit  the  maik 
and  recover  the  sinner,  must  draw  his  ar  f  vv  of 
reproof  home.  Reproof  must  be  powerful  the 
hammer  of  the  Word  breaks  not  the  heart,  i(  it  Ije 
lightly  laid  on.  It  must  also  be  so  particular, 
that  the  offender  may  think  himsell  concerned. 
Some  in  reproof  will  seem  to  aim  at  the  siiiiu^r, 
but  so  order  it,  that  their  arrows  =;hall  be  sure 
to  miss  him  ;  as  Domitian,  when  a  boy  held  for 
a  mark  alar  oft  his  hand  spread — with  the  htigers 
severed,  he  shot  his  arrows  so  that  all  hit  the  empty 
spaces  between  his  tingeis.  Be  the  repiool  neve; 
so  gracious,  the  plaster  so  good,  it  will  be  inetlec- 
tual  it  not  applied  to  the  patient. 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(4308.)  Alas  I  it  is  not  a  few  dull  words  between 
jest  and  earnest,  between  sleep  and  'vaking,  as  il 


REPROOF. 


(    724    ) 


REPROOF. 


were,  that  will  waken   an    ignorant,  dead-hearted 
Binner.     When  a  dull   hearer   and    a  dull   speaker 
meet  together,  a  dead  heart  and  a  dead  exhorlaiion, 
ii  is  far  unlike  to  have  a  lively  effect.      If  a  man 
fall  down  ill  a  swoon,  you  will  not  stand  trifling 
with    him,    but    lay   hands  on   him   presently,   and 
snatch  him  up,  and  rub  him,  and  call  aloud  to  him. 
If  a  house  be  on  hre,  you  will  not  in  a  cold  affected 
strain  go  and  tell  your  neighbour  of  it,  or  go  and  make 
an  oration  of  the  nature  and  danger  of  hre  ;  but  you 
will  run  out,  and  cry,   "Fire!    tire!"     Matters  of 
moment    must   be   seriously  dealt   with.       To    tell 
a    man  of  his  sins   as  soltly  as  Eli  did  his   sons, 
reprove   him   as  gently  as  Jehosaphat   did   Ahab, 
'•  Let  not  the  king  say  so,"  doth  usually  as  much 
harm  as  good.      I  am  persuaded  the  very  manner  of 
some  men's  reproof  and  exhortation  hath  hardened 
many  a  sinner  in  the  way  of  destruction.     To  tell 
them  of  sin,  or  of  heaven,  or  hell,  in  a  dull,  easy, 
careless   language,   doth  make  men  think  you  are 
r>ot  in  good  sadness,  nor  do  mean  as  you  speak  ; 
bu^  either  you  scarce  think  yourselves  such  things 
are  true,  or  else  you  take  them  in  such  a  slight  and 
indifferent  manner.      Oh,  sirs,  deal  with  sin  as  sin, 
and  speak  of  heaven  and  hell  as  they  are,  and  not 
as  if  you  were  in  jest.  —Baxter,  1615-1691. 

8.  With  evident  reluctance. 

(4309.)  Let  him  that  reproves  a  vice,  as  much  as 
is  possible,  do  it  with  words  of  meekness  and  com- 
miseration. Let  the  reprehension  come  not  as  a 
dart  shot  at  the  offender's  person,  but  at  his  crime. 
Let  a  man  reprehend  so  that  it  may  appear  that  he 
wishes  that  he  had  no  cause  to  reprehend.  Let 
him  behave  himself  in  the  sentence  that  he  passes, 
as  we  may  imagine  a  judge  would  behave  himself 
if  he  were  to  condemn  his  own  son,  brought  as  a 
criminal  before  him  ;  that  is,  with  the  greatest 
reluctancy  and  trouble  of  mind  imaginable,  that 
he  should  be  brought  under  the  necessity  of  such 
a  cruel  accident,  as  to  be  forced  to  speak  words  ol 
death  to  him  whose  life  he  tenders  more  passionately 
than  his  own.  —South,  1633-1716. 

(4310.)  The  most  difficult  province  in  friendship 
is  the  letting  a  man  see  his  faults  and  errors  ;  which 
should,  if  possible,  be  so  contrived  that  he  may 
perceive  our  advice  is  given  him  not  so  much  to 
please  ourselves  as  for  his  own  advantage.  The 
reproaches,  therefore,  of  a  friend  should  always  be 
strictly  just,  and  not  too  frequent. 

—Budgell,  1685-1736. 

6.  Affectionately. 

(431 1.)  As  physicians  with  their  bitter  dnigs  do 
mingle  sweet  spices,  that  tlie  sick  patient  may  the 
more  willingly  leceive  them  :  soouglil  bitter  rebukes 
to  be  mingled  with  gentle  admonitions,  that  the 
offender  might  be  the  better  brought  to  amendment. 
—  Cawdray,  1609. 

(4312.)  If  reproof  doth  not  savour  of  humanity  it 
signiheih  nothing;  it  must  be  like  a  bitter  pill 
wrapped  in  gold  and  tempered  with  sugar,  other- 
wise it  will  not  go  down  or  wurk  effectually. 

— Barrow,  1630- 1 667. 

H3'3-)  To  be  plain,  argues  honesty;  but  to  be 
pieasing,  argues  discretion.  Sores  are  not  to  be 
inguiihed  with  a  rustic  pressure,  but  gently  stroked 
with  a  ladled  hand.  Physicians  hre  not  their  eyes 
4t  patients,  but  calmly  minister  to  their  dise^ises. 


Let  it  be  so  done  as  the  offender  may  see  affection 
without  arrogancy.  Who  blows  out  candles  with 
too  strong  a  breath  does  but  make  them  stink,  and 
blows  them  hght  again.  — Fell t ham,  1668. 

(4314.)  Reprove  compassionately.  Soft  words 
and  hard  arguments  do  well  together.  Passion 
will  heat  the  sinner's  blood,  but  compassion  will 
heal  his  conscience.  Our  reprehension  may  be 
sharp,  but  our  spirits  must  be  meek.  The  probe 
that  searches  the  wound  will  put  the  patient  to  lesa 
pain  and  do  the  more  good  if  it  be  covered  with 
soft  lint. 

Reproof  should  be  as  oils  or  ointments,  rubbed  in 
with  the  warm  hre  of  love.  The  surgeon  that  sets 
the  bone  strokes  the  part.  The  reprover  should 
have  a  lion's  stout  heart,  or  he  will  not  be  faithful, 
and  a  lady's  soft  hand,  or  he  is  not  like  to  be 
successful.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4315.)  There  is  a  hard,  dry,  and  repelling  mode 
of  reproof  which  tends  rather  to  shut  up  the  heart 
than  to  open  it.  'I'he  tempest  may  roar  and  point 
its  hail-shot  at  the  traveller,  but  he  will  rather 
wrap  himself  closer  in  his  cloak  than  quit  it  till 
the  sun  breaks  out  again.        — Cecil,  1748-1810, 

(4316.)  Preaching  on  John  xiii.  14. — the  duty  of 
disciples  to  wash  one  another's  feet — Mr.  Finlayson 
of  Helmsdale  observed,  "One  way  in  which  dis- 
ciples wash  one  another's  feet  is  by  reproving  one 
another.  But  the  reproof  must  not  be  couched  in 
angry  words,  so  as  to  destroy  the  effect ;  nor  in 
tame,  so  as  to  fail  of  effect.  'Just  as  in  washing  a 
brother's  feet,  you  must  not  use  boiling  water  to 
scald,  nor  frozen  water  to  freeze  them." 

— Spurgeen. 

(4317.)  "I  remember  many  years  ago,"  says 
one,  "  being  struck  by  a  little  incident,  in  a  parish 
where  the  incumbent,  a  man  of  most  extraordinary 
Christian  benignity,  when  in  company  with  a 
clerical  friend,  rebuked  in  very  plain  terms  one  of 
his  parishioners  for  gross  misbehaviour  on  a  recent 
occasion.  The  reproof  was  so  severe  as  to  astonish 
his  friend,  who  declared  that  il  he  had  addressed 
one  of  his  flock  in  similar  langiiage,  he  should  have 
expected  an  irreconcilable  bieach.  The  clergyman 
ol  the  parish  answered  him  with  a  gentle  pat  on 
the  sliouKier,  and  with  a  smile  of  Christian  wisdom, 
'  Oh,  my  Iriend,  when  there  is  love  in  the  heart,  you 
may  say  anything.' " 

V.  THE  MANNER  IN  WHICH  IT  IS  RB- 
C  Ely  ED    IS   A     TEST  OF  CHARACTER. 

(4318.)  A  man  may  know  that  he  truly  hates  sin 
if  he  can  endure  admonition  and  reproof  for  sin. 
lie  that  hates  a  venomous  plant  which  troubles  the 
ground,  will  not  be  displeased  if  a  man  come  and 
tell  him  that  he  has  such  a  plant  in  his  ground,  and 
will  help  him  to  dig  it  up  ;  surely  he  cannot  be 
displeased  with  the  party.  So  here,  if  a  man  do 
truly  hate  sin,  will  he  be  angry  with  him  that  shall 
tell  him  he  is  obnoxious  to  such  an  evil,  which 
will  hurt  him  dangerously,  and  damn  his  soul  if  it 
be  not  helped  ?     Surely  no. 

—Sibbes,  i577-«635. 

(4319.)  Though  toads  are  no  sooner  touched, 
but  ihey  swell  and  are  ready  to  spit  out  their  poison 
.  in  the  lace  of  him   that  handles  them,  yet  sheep 


REPROOF. 


(    725    ) 


REPROOF. 


«rill  be  fek  and  shorn,  and  suffer  their  sores  to  be 
iressed  with  patience.  Though  fools  hate  him  that 
"  reproveth  in  the  gate,"  yet  "  rebuke  a  wise  man, 
*nd  he  will  love  thee."  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4320.)  Iron,  which  is  one  of  the  baser  metals, 
may  l)e  liammeied,  and  subjected  to  the  nio^t 
intense  heat  of  the  furnace  ;  but  though  you  may 
sullen  it  for  the  time,  you  can  never  make  it  ductile 
like  the  precious  metals.  But  gold,  which  is  the 
most  excellent  of  all,  is  the  most  pliant  and  easy 
wrougiU  on,  being  capalile  of  being  drawn  out  to  a 
degree  which  exceeds  belief.  So  the  most  excellent 
tenijiers  are  the  most  easily  wrought  on  by  spiritual 
counsel  and  godly  admonitions,  but  the  viler  sort, 
like  the  iron,  are  stubborn,  and  cannot  be  made 
pliant.  — Salter. 

VI.    HOll^  IT  IS  TO  BE  RECEIVED. 

1.  Witli  self-distrust. 

(4321.)  It  ni;iy  be  you  think  that  they  are 
censorious  in  judging  you  to  be  unconverted  when 
you  are  not  ;  and  to  be  worse  and  in  more  danger 
than  you  are,  and  speaking  hartler  of  you  tlian  you 
deserve.  But  it  is  you  that  should  be  most  sus- 
picious of  yourselves,  and  afraid  in  so  great  a 
matter  of  being  deceived.  A  stander-by  may  see 
more  than  a  player  :  I  am  sure  he  that  is  awake 
may  see  more  of  you  than  you  of  yourselves  when 
you  are  asleep. 

But  suppose  it  were  as  you  imagine ;  it  is  his 
love  that  mistakenly  attempteth  your  good  ;  he 
Sntendeih  you  no  harm  :  it  is  your  salvation  that  he 
desireth  ;  it  is  your  damnation  that  he  would 
pre\ent.  You  have  cause  to  love  him,  and  be 
thankful  for  his  good-will,  and  not  to  be  angry 
with  him,  and  reproach  him  for  his  mistakes. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

2.  Meekly. 

{4322.)  Oh,  that  I  might  never  be  so  void  of  love 
to  my  fallen  brother  as  not  to  give  him  a  serious 
repruol,  nor  so  void  of  love  to  myself  as  not  to 
receive  a  serious  reproof!  The  nipping  frosts, 
though  not  so  pleasant,  are  as  prutr table  as  the 
summer  sunshine.  There  is  no  jnobable  way  of 
curing  some  diseases  but  by  blisters  and  cupping 
glasses  and  painlul  medicines;  is  it  nut  better  ior 
me  to  accept  an  admonition  and  amend,  than  to 
walk  on  in  a  wicked  way  to  my  destruction  ? 

— Swinnock,  1673. 

(4323.)  Let  us  as  wise  men  be  patient  in  re- 
ceivnig  admonition.  The  stomach  o/  man  natur- 
ally rises  against  this  bitter  physic,  though  it 
conduces  so  uuich  to  iiis  health.  Faithful  reproof 
is  the  awakening  a  man  out  of  sleep,  and  such  are 
very  apt  to  be  angry.  The  hedgeiiog  bristles  up 
her  prickles,  and  will  pierce,  if  it  be  possible,  those 
that  come  to  take  hold  of  her. 

There  are  two  things  that  cause  men  to  rage 
against  reproof. 

1.  Guilt  of  the  sin  objected.  Guilt  makes  men 
angry  when  they  are  searched  ;  and,  like  horses 
that  are  galled,  to  kick  il  they  be  but  touched. 
The  easiest  medicines  and  mildest  waters  are 
troublesome  to  sore  eyes.  There  is  scarce  a  more 
proWable  sign  that  the  crime  objected  is  true,  than 
Wrath  and  bitterness  against  the  person  that  charges 
fts  with  it. 

2.  Luve  to  sin  makes  men  impatient  under  re- 
proof.    When  a  person's  sin   is  to  him  as  "the 


apple  of  his  eye,"  no  wonder  if  he  be  offended  at 

any  that  shall  touch  it. 

But  grace  will  teach  a  Christian  contentedly  to 
take  those  potions  that  are  wholesome,  though  they 
are  not  toothsome.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4324.)  They  that  are  dwarfs  in  religion  may  do 
service  to  the  tallest,  if  they  be  willing  to  accept  it. 
A  rush-candle  may  give  me  some  light  if  1  do  not 
wilfully  shut  my  eyes  ;  a  brazen  bell  may  call  me 
to  prayers,  as  well  as  one  of  silver,  if  I  do  not  stop  " 
my  ears.  The  smallest  and  meanest  creatures  were 
serviceable  to  the  great  God  against  the  Egyptians  ; 
and  shall  my  proud  heart  refuse  the  help  of  mean 
Ghristians  against  the  enemies  of  my  salvation? 
Did  a  damsel  possessed  with  a  devil  bring  her 
master  much  temporal  gain,  and  may  not  a  poor 
servant,  filled  with  the  Spirit,  bring  me  much 
spiiitual  gain?  What,  or  who,  am  I,  that  none 
must  teach  me  but  those  that  are  eminent  in  grace 
and  gifts?  1  am  sure  1  have  nothing  that  is  good 
but  what  I  have  received  ;  and  this  pride  of  my 
heart  is  too  great  an  evidence  that  1  am  but  poor  in 
holincbs.  Those  branches  that  are  fullest  laden 
bend  most  downwards.  Those  trees  that  abound 
in  clusters  of  fruit  do  not  disdain  to  receive  sap 
from  the  mean  earth  which  every  beast  tramples 
on.  It  is  no  wonder  that  a  soul  declines  in  strength, 
that  refuses  its  food  because  it  is  not  brought  by 
the  steward,  but  by  some  infeiiiir  perscm  of  the 
family.  If  Satan  can  keep  me  in  this  proud  humour, 
he  does  not  doubt  but  to  keep  me  in  a  staiving 
condition,  and  to  hinder  the  efficacy  of  all  means 
for  my  growth  in  grace.  When  this  dropsy  once 
seizes  upon  my  vitals,  I  may  expect  a  consumption 
of  my  whole  body.  Lord,  it  were  my  duty  to  hear 
Thy  voice,  though  it  were  through  the  muuih  of  a 
Balaam  !  Thou  hast  sometimes  conveyed  the  water 
of  life  through  those  pipes  of  lead,  and  sent  con- 
siderable presents  to  Thy  chosen  by  contemptible 
messengers.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4325.)  Perhaps  you  think  that  the  preacher,  or 
private  admonisher,  is  too  plain  with  you;  but 
you  should  consider  that  self-love  is  like  to  make 
you  partial  in  your  own  cause,  and  therefore  a  more 
incapable  judge  than  they.  And  you  should  con- 
sider that  God  hath  comniancied  them  to  deal 
plainly,  and  told  them  that  else  the  people's  blood 
shall  be  required  at  their  hands  ;  and  that  God 
best  knoweth  what  medicine  and  diet  is  fittest  for 
your  disease  ;  and  that  the  case  is  of  such  grand 
importance  (whether  you  shall  live  in  heaven  or 
hell  for  ever !)  that  it  is  scarce  possible  for  a 
minister  to  be  too  plain  and  serious  with  you ; 
and  that  your  disease  is  so  obstinate  that  gentler 
means  have  been  too  long  frustrated,  and  therefore 
sharper  must  be  tried  ;  else  why  were  you  not 
converted  by  gentler  dealing  until  now  ?  If  you 
fall  down  in  a  swoon,  or  be  ready  to  be  drowned, 
you  v\ill  give  leave  to  the  standers-by  to  hantlle  you 
a  little  more  roughly  than  at  another  time,  and  will 
not  bring  your  action  against  them  for  laying  hands 
on  you,  or  ruffling  your  silks  and  bravery  ;  if  your 
house  be  on  fire,  you  will  give  men  leave  to  speak 
to  you  in  another  manner  than  when  they  modu- 
late their  voices  into  a  civil  and  complimeiuarj 
tone.  — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(4326.)  An  angry,  passionate  disposition,  im- 
patient of  icpiooi,  deters  men  from  doing  the  office 
of  friends  ui   a  faithful   reprehension.      For  soin« 


REPROOF. 


(    726    ) 


REPROOF. 


minds  are  more  raging  and  tumultuous  than  the 
sea  itself;  so  that  if  Christ  Himself  should  rebuke 
them,  instestd  of  being  calm,  they  would  rage  nnd 
roar  so  much  the  louder.  That  admonition  thai 
would  reclaim  others  does  but  chafe  and  provoke 
them  ;  as  the  same  breath  of  wind  that  cools  some 
things  kindles  and  inflames  others. 

But  few  people  are  able,  and  fewer  willing,  to 
put  themselves  to  so  great  an  inconvenience  for 
another's  good,  and  to  raise  a  storm  about  their 
own  ears  to  do  an  odious,  ungrateful  jsiece  of  ser- 
vice for  an  ungrateful  person  ;  and  therefore  men 
usually  deal  wii'i  such  currisli,  sharp  natures,  as 
they  do  with  mastiffs,  they  are  fain  to  stroke  them, 
though  they  deserved  to  be  cudgelled.  They  flatter 
and  commend  them  to  keep  them  quiet. 

From  the  consideration  of  which  we  easily  see 
the  greater  misery  and  disadvantage  of  passionate, 
ani;ry  persons  ;  their  passion  does  not  only  bereave 
them  of  their  own  eyes,  but  also  of  the  benefit  of 
oilier  men's  ;  which  he  that  is  of  a  gentle  and  a 
tractable  nature  enjoys  in  the  midst  of  all  his  errors. 
— South,  1 633-1 716. 

(4327.)  We  may  observe  of  brambles  that  they 
always  grow  crooked  ;  for  by  reason  of  their  briers 
and  thorns  no  hand  can  touch  them  so  as  to  bend 
them  straight.  And  so  it  is  with  some  disposi- 
tions :  they  grow  into  a  confirmed,  settled  obliquity, 
because  their  sharpness  makes  them  unfit  to  be 
liandled  by  discipline  and  admonition.  They  are  a 
terror  and  a  grievance  to  those  that  they  converse 
with  ;  and  to  attempt  to  advise  them  out  of  their 
irregularities,  is  as  il  a  chirurgeon  should  offer  to 
dress  a  wounded  lion  ;  he  must  look  to  perish  in 
the  attempt,  and  to  be  torn  in  pieces  for  his  pains. 

It  was  surely  of  very  great  importance  to  Nabal 
(l  Sam.  XXV.)  to  have  been  admonished  of  the 
rough,  unadvised  answer  that  he  returned  to  David's 
soldiers  ;  for  it  was  like  to  have  brought  a  ruin  upon 
him  and  his  family  and  his  whole  estate,  yet  none 
would  do  him  that  seasonable  kindness,  because  of 
the  rudeness  and  churlishness  of  his  manners  :  for 
in  tlie  17th  verse  that  character  is  given  of  him, 
that  he  "  was  such  a  son  of  Belial,  that  a  man  could 
not  speak  to  him." 

To  be  (oolish  and  to  be  angry  too,  is  for  a  man 
first  to  cast  himself  into  a  pit,  and  then  to  hinder 
others  from  pulling  him  out. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

(4328.)  It  was  a  maxim  of  Bishop  Griswold — 
**\Vlien  censured  or  accused,  to  correct — not  to 
justily — my  error." 

A  certain  minister  with  more  zeal  than  discretion 
once  became  impressed  with  the  thought  that  the 
bishop  was  a  mere  formalist  in  religion,  and  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  go  and  warn  him  of  his  danger, 
and  exhort  him  to  "flee  from  the  wrath  to  come." 
Accordingly  he  called  upon  the  bishop,  very 
solemnly  made  known  his  errand,  and  forthwith 
ey.tsred  upon  his  reproof. 

The  bishop  listened  in  silence  till  his  visitor  had 
closed  a  severely  denunciatory  exhortation,  and  then 
in  substance  replied  as  follows  ;  "  My  dear  friend, 
]  do  not  wonder  that  they  who  witness  the  incon- 
sistency of  my  daily  conduct,  and  see  how  poorly  I 
adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  my  Saviour,  should 
think  I  have  no  religion.  1  often  fear  for  myself 
that  such  is  the  ca-e,  and  feel  very  grateful  to  you 
•or  givii  g  me  this  warning." 


The  reply  was  mado  with  such  evidently  un- 
affected humility,  and  with  such  deep  sincerity, 
that  if  an  audible  voice  from  heaven  had  attested 
the  genuineness  of  his  Christian  cl'.aracter,  it  could 
not  more  effectually  have  silenced  his  kindlu- 
intending  but  misjudging  censor,  or  more  con. 
pletely  disabused  him  of  his  false  impressions. 
He  immediately  acknowledged  his  error,  begged 
the  bishop's  pardon,  and  ever  afterwards  looked 
upon  him  as  one  of  the  distinguished  lights  of  the 
Christian  world.  — Episcopal  Record, 

o.  ThankfuUy. 

(4329.)  Had  I  a  careful  and  pleasant  companion 
that  should  show  me  my  angry  face  in  a  glass,  I 
should  not  at  all  take  it  ill.  Some  are  wont  to 
have  a  looking-glass  held  to  them  while  they  wa^h, 
though  to  little  puri^^se  ;  but  to  behold  a  man's 
self  so  unnaturally  disguised  and  disordered,  will 
conduce  not  a  little  to  the  impeachment  of  anger. 

— Plutarch. 

{4330.)  Patients  are  .displeased  with  a  physician 
who  doth  not  prescribe  to  them,  and  think  he 
gives  them  over.  And  why  are  none  so  affected 
towards  a  physician  of  the  mind,  as  to  conclude 
he  despairs  of  iheir  recovery  to  a  right  way  of 
thinking,  if  he  tell  them  nothing  which  may  be  for 
their  good  ?  — Epictetus,  B.C.  60. 

(4331.)  Oh,  it  is  a  blessed  thing  to  have  others 
tell  us  of  our  faults,  and  as  it  were  to  ptdl  us  out 
of  the  fire  with  violence,  as  Jude  speaks;  rather  to 
pull  us  out  with  violence,  with  sharp  rebukes, 
than  we  should  perish  in  our  sins.  If  a  man  be 
to  weed  his  ground,  he  sees  need  of  the  benefit 
of  others  ;  if  a  man  be  to  demolish  his  house, 
he  will  be  thankful  to  others  for  their  help  ;  so 
he  that  is  to  pull  down  his  corruption,  that  old 
house,  he  should  be  thankful  to  others  that  will  tell 
him,  "This  is  rotten,  and  this  is  to  bkmie  ; "  who 
if  he  be  not  thankful  for  seasonable  reproof,  he 
knows  not  what  self-judging  means.  If  any  man 
be  so  uncivil  when  a  man  shows  him  a  spot  on  his 
garment  to  grow  choleric,  will  we  not  judge  him 
to  be  an  unreasonable  man?  And  so  when  a  man 
shall  be  told,  "This  will  hinder  your  comfort 
another  day;"  if  men  were  not  spiritually  besotted, 
would  they  swell  and  be  angry  against  such  a  man 
— Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(4332.)  We  should  much  esteem  the  private 
admonitions  and  reprehensions  of  our  gotlly  friends  ; 
for  in  nothing  more  than  this,  is  the  saying  of  the 
wise  man  verified  :  "Two  aie  better  than  one,  foi 
if  they  fall,  the  one  will  help  up  his  fellow  :  but 
woe  be  to  him  that  is  alone  when  he  falleth,  foi 
he  hath  not  another  to  help  him  up."  When  men 
are  apt  through  their  drowsy  sloth  to  neglect  theii 
weighty  business,  or  to  forslow  their  journey  by 
over-sleeping  themselves,  they  hold  it  a  great 
kinilness  in  those  that  will  call  them  up  betimes, 
though  it  be  not  pleasant  for  the  instant  to  be 
broken  of  their  sleep.  But  what  business  SC 
weighty  as  to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure? 
what  journey  more  important  than  to  travel  towards 
our  heavenly  country?  and  wherein  are  we  more 
sluggish  and  apt  to  lose  our  best  opportunities  by 
over-sleeping  ourselves  in  carnal  security,  if  we  be 
not  roused  up  with  the  reprools  ol  laithlul  Iriends? 

Those  that  fall  into  a  lethargy, after  their  recovery 
think  themselves  beholden  to  such  about  them  as  by 


RESURRECTION. 


(    727    ) 


RESURRECTION. 


flieir  pricking  and  nipping  them  kept  them  waking, 
thougii  it  may  be  for  the  present  it  was  a  thankless 
office,  being  so  distasteful  to  ilieir  humour  and  ap- 
peiite.  But  we  are  prone  to  fall  into  the  spiritual 
lelhaigy  of  carnal  security,  which  is  more  dangerous 
ami  pernicious  than  ten  thousand  bodily  deaths  ; 
and  therefore  by  so  much  more  are  we  to  esteem 
the  kind  otfice  of  such  a  faithful  friend  who,  by 
nips  and  [nicks  of  admonitions  and  reproof,  keeps 
from  falling  into  or  continuing  in  this  sleep  of 
death. 

When  our  bodily  sores  begin  to  fester  at  the 
bottom,  and  to  breed  dead  flesh,  and  when  our 
bodies  al)ound  with  hurtful  humours,  we  not  only 
voluntarily  send  for  the  surgeon  and  physician,  but 
thank  and  reward  them,  though  to  our  smart  and 
pain  they  u^ed  to  cure  us  corrosives  ancl  strong 
potions  :  and  shall  we  not  be  as  careful  for  the 
recovery  of  our  souls,  and  as  thankful  to  those  who 
use  these  good  means  to  effect  the  cure,  although 
they  be  distasteful,  yea,  painful  and  loathsome  to 
our  carnal  sense  and  appetite  ? 

— Downame,  1642. 

(4333.)  Far  be  it  from  any  here  to  be  like  those 
wicked  wretches  whom  the  prophet  inveighs  against, 
that  hate  those  that  reprove  lliein  ;  to  hate  their 
instructors,  because  they  are  sometimes  also  neces- 
sarily correctors,  to  hate  them  lor  that  for  which 
rather  tliey  ought  to  love  theuj.  You  must  not,  as 
the  psalmist  speaks,  be  as  the  horse  or  mule  with- 
out understanding.  Horses  and  mules  can  well 
endure,  and  are  wont  to  take  notice  of  them  that 
feed  them,  and  stroke  them,  and  make  nmch  of 
them ;  but  they  cannot  endure  those  that  come 
about  to  drencli  them,  or  bleed  them,  or  to  meddle 
With  their  sores,  though  they  intend  nothing  therein 
but  their  good  ;  or  because  they  have  sene,  where- 
by they  perceive  some  present  good  in  the  one,  but 
they  have  no  reason  to  apprehend  any  future  good 
in  the  other.  Creatures  endued  with  reason  must 
be  wiser  than  they,  and  love  their  teacher  as  vvcU 
reproving  and  correcting,  when  just  occasion  is, 
as  speaking  fair  and  commending. 

— Gaiaker,  1574-1654. 


RESURRECTION. 

1.  The  moral  reasonableness  of  the  doctrine  of 
Uie  resurrection  of  the  body. 

(4334.)  The  body  shall  be  awaked  out  of  its 
dead  sleep,  and  quickened  into  a  glorious  immortal 
life.  The  soul  and  body  are  the  essential  parts  of 
man  ;  and  though  the  inequality  be  great  in  their 
operations  that  respect  holiness,  yet  their  concourse 
is  necessary.  Good  actions  are  designed  by  the 
counsel  and  resolution  of  the  spirit,  but  performed 
by  the  ministry  ol  the  flesh.  Every  grace  expresses 
itself  in  visiiile  actions  by  the  body.  In  the  sorrows 
of  rei)cntaiice  it  supplies  tears,  in  fastings  its 
appetites  are  re-tiained,  in  thanksgivings  the  tongue 
breaks  forth  into  the  joyful  praises  ol  God.  All 
the  victories  over  sensible  pleasure  and  pain  are 
obtained  by  the  soul  in  conjunction  with  the  body. 
Now  ii  is  most  becoming  the  Divine  goodness  not 
to  deal  so  uiffereutly,  that  the  soul  should  be  ever- 
lastingly happy,  and  the  body  lost  in  lorgetluhiess  ; 
the  one  gU"iljed  in  heaven,  the  other  remain  in  the 
dust     irom  their  first  setting  out  iu  liie  world  m 


the  grave  they  ran  the  same  race,  and  sh.all  enjoy 
the  same  reward.  Here  the  body  is  the  consort  of 
the  soul  in  obedience  and  suflerings,  hereafter  in 
fruition.  When  the  crown  of  purity  or  palm  of 
martyrdom  shall  be  given  by  the  great  Judge  in  the 
view  of  all,  they  shall  both  partake  in  the  honour. 
Of  this  we  have  an  earnest  in  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  in  His  true  body,  wlio  "is  the  first-fruits  ol 
them  that  sleep."  — Bates,  1625-1699. 

£.  "  With  what  body  do  they  come  ?  " 

(4335.)  Little  would  an  unbeliever  think  what  a 
body  God  will  make  of  this  that  now  is  coriuptible 
flesh  and  blood  I  It  shall  tlien  be  loathsome  and 
trouhlesome  no  more.  It  shall  be  hungry,  or 
thirsty,  or  vi'eary,  or  cold,  or  pained  no  more.  As 
the  stars  of  heaven  do  differ  from  a  clod  of  earth, 
or  from  a  carrion  in  a  ditch,  so  will  our  gloritied, 
immortal  bodies  differ  fiom  this  mortal  corruptible 
flesh.  If  a  skilful  workman  can  turn  a  little  earth 
and  ashes  into  such  curious  transparent  glasses  as 
we  daily  see  ;  and  if  a  little  seed  that  bears  no  show 
of  such  a  thing  can  produce  the  more  beautiful 
flowers  of  the  earth  ;  and  if  a  little  acorn  can  biing 
forth  the  greatest  oak  ;  uhy  should  we  once  doubt 
whether  the  seed  of  everlasting  life  and  glory,  which 
is  now  in  the  blessed  souls  with  Christ,  can  by 
Him  communicate  a  perfection  to  the  flesh  that  is 
dissolved  into  its  elements?  There  is  no  true 
beauty  but  that  which  is  there  received  from  the 
face  of  God  ;  and  if  a  glimpse,  made  Moses'  face  to 
shine,  what  glory  will  God's  glory  communicate  to 
us,  when  we  iiave  the  fullest,  endless  intuition  of  it? 
There  only  is  the  strength,  and  there  is  the 
riches,  and  there  is  the  honour,  and  there  is  the 
pleasure  ;  and  here  are  but  the  shadows,  and  dreaijis, 
and  names,  and  images  of  these  precious  things, 
— BaxUr,  1615-1591. 

(4336.)  "That  which  thou  sowest  is  not  quick- 
ened except  it  die."  This  is  God's  law  concerning 
the  seed.  It  must  be  dead,  or  it  cannot  be  made 
alive.  Tliis  is  evidently  true.  So  is  it  with  the 
body.  It  must  die,  in  order  that  it  may  be  made 
alive. 

Then,  too,  in  the  process  of  making  the  seed 
alive,  there  is  also  a  resemblance  to  the  way  in 
which  the  body  is  to  be  made  alive.  "As  for  that 
which  thou  sowest,"  as  to  the  seed,  St.  Paul  says, 
"Thou  sowest  not  that  body  that  shall  be,  but 
bare  grain,  it  may  chance  of  wheat  or  of  some 
other  grain."  You  do  not  sow  the  very  grain  that 
shall  rise.  That  seed  which  you  sow  is  dissolved. 
It  melts  and  disappears.  And  yet  out  of  that  seed, 
out  of  the  suiistance  of  it,  out  of  the  ptrticles 
of  matter  of  which  it  was  formed,  God,  by  His 
mysterious  and  almighty  power  brings  forth  a  body 
like  the  other,  and  belonging  to  the  same  class :  for 
"to  every  seed  "  He  gives  "  its  own  body."  No 
one  ever  heard  of  a  man  sowing  wheat  and  having 
barley  spring  up.  The  crop  always  follows  the  seed. 
'So  is  it  with  the  body  of  man.  Like  the  seed, 
"  thou  sowest  not  that  body  that  shall  be."  That 
bo'iy  which  thou  sowest  melts  and  disa{ipears. 
Yet  out  of  that  body,  out  of  the  materials  ol  which 
it  was  made,  will  God  by  His  mysterious  and 
almighty  power  raise  up  another  of  the  same  kind  } 
just  as  the  grain  of  wheat  which  springs  out  of  the 
earth  is  like  that  which  was  sown  iu  it,  and  as 
I  iruiy  formed  out  of  the  other  as  that  is :  so  that  the 


RESURRECTION. 


(     728     ) 


RESURRECTION. 


risen  man  himself  will  know  tliat  he  is  the  same  man, 
and  all  who  loved  him  will  know  it  too. 

— Champneys. 

(4337)  ^^  ni^y  find  it  difficult  to  explain  how 
the  identity  of  the  body  can  be  preserved  while  the 
matter  composing  it  is  changed  ;  we  may  be  left  to 
conjecture  wiiether  it  is  by  sameness  in  the  chemical 
composition,  or  by  a  germ  of  the  matter  of  the  old 
body  formiPL;  ''.he  basis  or  groundwork  of  the  new  ; 
but  our  difficulty  in  explaining  can  present  no 
reason  for  denying  the  fact,  for  we  meet  with 
virtual  exemplifications  of  it  every  day. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  we  lose  something  like 
a  seventh  part  of  the  matter  of  our  bodies,  and 
acquire  a  seventh  of  new  matter,  every  year;  or,  in 
other  words,  that  the  matter  of  our  bodies  under- 
goes an  entire  change  eveiy  seven  years.  That  of 
which  they  are  now  composed  was  not  connected 
with  them  ten  years  ago  ;  that  of  which  they  were 
composed  then  has  now  passed  away  into  other 
combinations;  but  while  the  matter  has  been 
changed  the  ideiuity  has  been  preserved.  The 
body  as  it  exists  now  is  responsible  for  all  that  was 
done  by  the  body  as  it  existed  then.  A  man  in 
this  country  twenty  years  since,  let  us  say,  committed 
the  crime  of  murder  ;  shortly  afterwards  he  escaped 
to  Australia,  and  has  contrived  hitherto  to  elude  tlie 
vigilance  of  the  law.  Suppose,  however,  that  he  is 
discovered  and  arraigned  for  the  crime  committed  so 
long  ago.  It  may  be  urgt-d  tliat  the  matter  of  his  body 
has  undergone  several  changes  since  then  ;  that  the 
hand  which  committed  the  murder,  as  regards  the 
particles  of  matter  composing  it,  has  now  no 
existence  ;  that  that  hand  of  his  rs  composed  of 
matter  entirely  new,  and  so  with  his  whole  mateiial 
system  ;  that,  therefore,  the  man  cannot  be  held 
responsible  for  the  crime  committed  by  a  different 
body ;  and  tliat  it  would  be  absurd  and  unjust  to 
punish  this  body  for  that  which  was  done  by  another. 
Would  the  plea  be  deemed  valid  in  any  court  of  law? 
Certainly  not ;  for  though  the  matter  of  tiie  body 
has  been  so  entirely  changed,  the  body  is  the 
same. 

And  so  vul  it  be  in  the  resurrect'on  of  the  dead: 
though  the  matter  of  the  body  he  changed,  its 
identity  will  be  preserved,  and  the  body  raised  will 
be  responsible  for  all  that  was  done  by  that  which 
lived  and  was  laid  in  the  grave. 

Or  take  another  illustration.  Look  at  a  child  in 
the  playfuli.ess  of  infancy  ;  then  trace  in  imagination 
that  child's  growth  until  it  has  attained  the  strength 
ai>d  stature  of  manhood ;  then  follow  it  onward 
until  it  reaches  the  decrepitude  of  old  age.  How 
different  it  is  in  its  different  stages  I  How  the  full- 
grown  man  contrasts  with  the  playful  child,  and  the 
feeble  old  man  with  both  !  How  diffeient,  both  in 
the  matter  composing,  and  the  form  which  it  assumes, 
is  the  body  in  its  infancy  from  the  body  in  its  man- 
hood !  how  different  in  its  vigorous  manhood  from 
its  old  age  !  And  yet,  as  regards  identity  it  is 
throughout  the  same  body.  That  which  age  has 
withered  is  the  same  which  in  manhood  was  full  of 
strength  ;  that  which  in  manhood  was  full  of  strength 
is  the  same  which  lay  once  in  the  feebleness  of 
infancy.  So  the  body  raised  from  the  dead, 
though  difiering  in  the  matter  composing  it.,  and  in 
the  lorm  which  it  assumes,  will,  as  regards  identity, 
he  the  same  with  that  which  lived  and  died. 

— Landels. 


(4338.)  **  Some  man  may  say,  How  are  the  Jtad 
raised  itp,  and  with  what  body  do  they  come  f " 
How  can  the  same  body  which  falls  into  dust  be 
raised  again,  to  become  anew  the  tabernacle  of  the 
immortal  spirit  ?  The  particles  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed may  be  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  they  may 
assume  new  forms,  they  may  be  made  to  contribute 
to  the  formation  of  other  beings — of  plants,  or 
animals,  of  men.  How  can  each  several  particle 
be  disentangleil,  how  shall  each  be  brought  toiether 
again  to  constitute  the  same  body  which  was  dis- 
solved at  death  ? 

Now  we  presume  to  put  no  limits  upon  the 
almighty  power  of  God.  We  do  not  doubt  that 
amid  all  the  ceaseless  infinite  fluctuations  of  the 
material  particles,  His  eye  could  trace  each  grain 
of  dust,  and  His  hand  collect  it,  and  bring  it  back 
to  reconstitute  the  body.  But  we  contend  that  any 
such  process  is  as  unnecessary  as  it  is  improbable. 
We  maintain  that  the  same  body  which  has  been 
laid  in  the  grave  may  be  raised  at  the  last  day ; 
though  not  one  single  material  particle  which  v\  ent 
to  constitute  the  one  body,  shall  be  found  in  the 
other. 

For  what  is  it  that  is  necessary  to  the  identity  ot 
the  body  ?  The  identity  of  the  body  does  not 
depend  on  the  identity  of  the  material  particles  of 
which  it  is  composed.  These  are  in  a  state  of 
perpetual  flux.  The  body  of  our  chiklhoud  is  not 
the  body  of  our  youth,  nor  the  body  of  our  youth 
that  of  our  manhood,  nor  the  body  of  our  manh(K)d 
that  of  our  old  age.  Every  particle  has  changed, 
and  yet  it  is  the  same  body  :  the  person  to  whom 
it  belongs  still  continues  the  same  person. 

If  you  insist  upon  it  that  every  particle  of  mat- 
ter of  which  my  body  is  built  must  be  brought 
together  to  form  my  new  resurrection  body,  then 
1  ask.  What  body  during  this  present  lie  is  my 
true  body?  Is  it  the  body  of  my  childhood,  or  of 
my  youth,  or  ol  my  old  age  ?  'I'he  body  in  which 
I  die  is  no  more  truly  mine  than  the  body  with 
which  I  came  into  the  world.  Both  are  mine,  both 
are  in  some  sense  the  same,  and  yet  they  have  not 
a  single  material  particle  in  common.  VVhat  pos- 
sible reason  is  there,  then,  for  contending  that  the 
body  which  is  laid  in  tlie  grave  must  be  brought 
together  again,  particle  lor  particle,  at  the  resur- 
rection, when  it  is  no  more  essentially  a  part  of 
myself,  than  my  body  at  any  other  stage  of  exist- 
ence. 

The  only  thing  of  which  we  need  to  be  assured 
is,  that  the  principle  of  identity  which  governs  the 
formation  of  the  body  in  this  life,  shall  govern  its 
formation  at  the  resurrection.  In  the  ever-flowing 
torrent  of  life,  as  wave  after  wave  passes  tbroug'h 
our  bodily  frame,  bringing  with  it  growth  and 
variety  in  the  structure,  there  is  some  principle,  or 
law,  or  specific  form,  call  it  what  you  will,  which 
remains  ever  the  same.  The  organism  is  essentially 
one,  despite  the  modifications  of  size,  of  form,  of 
inward  constitution. 

This  holds  in  every  reign  of  nature  where  there 
is  life.  From  the  acorn  buried  in  the  earth  there 
springs  first  the  little  slender  stalk,  the  germinant 
shoot  hidden  between  its  two  cotyledons,  then  the 
sapling,  then  the  monarch  of  the  foi'est.  But  the 
oak  and  the  germinant  shoot  are  one  and  the  same 
vegetable  existence,  'ihe  butterfly  wiiicli  unfolds 
its  wings  of  purple  and  gold  in  the  summers  sun 
is  the  same  creature  which  was  but  lately  a  clirysalis, 
and  befor;  ihat  a  cowling  worm,  and  before  that 


RESURRECTION. 


(    729    ) 


RESURRECTION. 


an  embryo  in  a  tiny  egg.  And  is  it  not  the  same 
with  man  ?  Is  not  the  human  embryo  the  same 
individual  when  it  becomes  cliild,  youth,  old  man  ? 
And  yet  does  there  remain  in  the  oal<,  in  the 
butterfly,  in  the  man,  a  single  one  of  the  ponder- 
able molecules  which  existed  in  the  germ,  the  egg, 
the  embryo  ?  What  physiologist  would  venture  10 
affirm  there  is?  And  still  we  repeat,  it  is  the  same 
▼egetahle,  the  same  insect,  the  same  man. 

What,  then,  is  this  thing  which  remains  ever  the 
same,  the  same  in  the  vegetable  in  all  its  develop- 
ments, the  same  in  the  insect  in  all  its  metamor- 
phoses, the  same  in  the  human  body  in  every  jjhase 
of  its  existence  ?  What  is  this,  which  never  perishes, 
is  never  destroyed,  in  all  the  changes  and  fluctua- 
tions of  the  material  organism?  It  escapes  all  our 
invesiigations  ;  we  see  it  only  in  its  manifestations, 
in  the  phenomena  of  life  ;  but  that  it  is  a  reality  all 
observation  goes  to  show  :  and  if  through  all  the 
changes  of  the  body  during  this  life,  this  principle 
continues  in  nil  its  force,  why  may  it  not  survive 
the  shock  of  death?  Why  may  not  this  specific 
form,  as  Gregory  of  Nyssa  terms  it,  remain  united 
to  the  soul,  as  he  conjectured  (and  as  other  thinkers 
like  Leibnitz  have  supposed),  after  its  separation 
from  the  body,  and  thus  become  at  length  the 
agent  in  the  resurrection,  by  reconstituting,  though 
in  a  new  and  transfigured  comlition,  the  botly 
which  was  dissolved  at  death  ?  Why  may  not  the 
same  body,  which  was  sown  in  corruption,  be 
raised  to  iucorruption,  and  that  which  was  sown  a 
natural  body,  be  raised  a  spiritual  body?  There  is 
at  least  nothing  iniproliable  in  such  a  supposition  ; 
there  is  everything  in  the  analogies  of  Nature  to 
confirm  it  ;  and  when  Revelation  is  silent,  we  may 
be  thankful  fur  such  glimpses  of  probability  as  come 
lo  us  in  aid  of  our  faith.  — Perowtte. 

3.  Is  less  Inexplicable  than  the  creation  of  the 
body. 

(4339.)  Creation  is  more  inexplicable  than 
resurrection.  For  it  is  not  the  same  thing  to 
rekindle  an  extinguished  lamp,  and  to  show  fire  that 
has  never  yet  appeared.  It  is  not  the  same  thing 
to  raise  up  again  a  house  that  has  fallen  down,  and 
to  produce  one  which  has  never  at  all  had  an 
existence.  — Chijsostom,  347-407. 

[Modern  preachers  will  probably  prefer  to  use 
this  argument,  drawn  from  the  creation  of  the  body, 
as  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  our  inability  to 
explain  the  method  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body 
it  no  reason  for  refusing  to  believe  in  it.] 

♦.  Analogies  in  nature  and  art. 

\See  next  section  of  this  article:  "5.  A  necessary 
caution  as  to  the  use  0/ the  foreooing  illustrations."'^ 

{4340.)  Trees,  in  the  winter-time,  appear  to  the 
view  of  all  men  as  if  they  were  withered  and  quite 
dead,  yet,  when  the  spring-time  comes,  they  become 
alive  again,  and,  as  before,  do  bring  forth  their 
buds,  blossoms,  leaves,  and  fruit.  The  reason  is, 
because  the  body,  grain,  and  arms  of  the  tree  are 
all  joined  and  fastened  to  the  root,  where  the  sap 
lies  all  the  w  inter-time,  and  from  thence,  by  reason 
of  so  near  conjunction,  it  is  derived  in  the  spring- 
time to  all  the  parts  of  the  tree.  Even  so  the 
bodies  of  men  have  their  winter  also,  and  that  is  in 
death,  in  which  time  they  are  turned  into  dust  and 
so  ren\ain  for  a  time  dead  and  rotten ;  yet,  in  the 
Bfring-tims.  that  is,  in  the  last  day,  at  the  resurrection 


of  all  flesh,  then,  by  means  of  the  mystical  union 
with  Christ,  His  divine  and  quickening  virtue  shall 
stream  from  thence  to  all  the  bodies  of  His  members^ 
and  cause  them  to  live  again,  and  that  to  life  eternal. 

—StroJe. 

(4341.)  Let  us  not  be  like  them  without  faiih, 
that  think  the  bodies  are  lost  for  ever  that  are  cast 
into  the  grave;  like  children  seeing  the  silver  cast 
into  the  furnace,  think  it  utterly  cast  away,  till  they 
see  it  come  out  again  a  pure  vessel. 

— SiMes,  1577-163^. 

(4342.)  I  have  stood  in  a  smith's  forge,  and  seen 
him  put  a  rusty,  cold,  dull  piece  of  iron  into  the 
fire,  and  after  a  while  he  has  taken  the  very  same 
individual  piece  of  iron  out  of  the  fire,  hot,  bright, 
sparkling  :  and  thus  it  is  with  our  bodies  ;  they  are 
laid  down  in  the  grave  dead,  heavy,  earthly,  but  at 
the  resurrection  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortalily  ; 
at  the  general  conflagration  this  dead,  heavy, 
earthly  body,  shall  arise  living,  lightsome,  glorious  : 
which  made  Job  so  confident,  "1  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,  .  .  .  and  though  after  my  skio 
worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  1  see 
God."  — Fuller,  1 60S- 1 66 1. 

(4343.)  Paper — that  article  so  useful  in  human 
life,  that  repository  of  all  the  arts  and  sciences,  that 
minister  of  all  governments,  that  broker  in  all 
trade  and  commerce,  that  second  memory  of  the 
human  mind,  that  stable  pillar  of  an  immortal 
name — takes  its  origin  from  vile  rags.  The  rag- 
dealer  trudges  on  foot,  or  drives  his  cart  through 
the  towns  and  villages,  and  his  arrival  is  the  signal 
for  searching  every  corner,  and  gathering  every  old 
and  useless  shred.  These  he  takes  to  the  mill,  and 
there  they  are  picked,  washed,  mashed,  shaped, 
and  sized,  in  short,  formed  into  a  fabric  beautiful 
enough  to  venture  unabashed  even  into  the  presence 
of  ni'inarchs  and  princes. 

This  reminds  me  of  the  resurrection  of  my  mortal 
body.  When  deserted  by  the  soul,  I  know  uot 
what  better  the  body  is  than  a  worn  and  rejected 
rag.  Accordingly  it  is  buried  in  the  earth,  and 
there  gnawed  by  worms,  and  reduced  to  dust  and 
ashes.  If,  however,  man's  art  and  device  can 
produce  so  pure  and  white  a  fabric  as  paper  from 
filthy  rags,  what  should  hinder  God  by  His  mighty 
power  to  raise  this  vile  body  of  mine  from  tlie  grave, 
and  refine  and  fashion  it  like  unto  the  glorious 
body  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ? 

— Scriver,  16  29- 1693. 

(4344.)  There  are  things  in  nature  which  suggest 
a  resurrection  of  the  dead. 

Such  is  the  well-known  analogy  presented  by  the 
changes  which  many  creatures  undergo.  The  insect, 
at  first  a  creeping  worm,  crawls  on  the  earth,  its 
home  the  ground,  or  some  humble  plant  or  decaying 
matter,  which  feeds  its  voracious  appetite.  The 
time  of  its  first  change  anives.  It  weaves  itself  a 
shroud  ;  it  makes  itseli  a  coffin  ;  and  umler  the  soil, 
in  some  cranny  of  the  wall,  in  a  convenient  fissure 
of  rock  or  tree,  as  in  a  catacomb,  it  finds  a  qiiie'. 
grave.  There,  shrouded  and  coffined  and  buried, 
and  to  all  appearance  dead,  it  lies  till  its  appointed 
change.  The  hour  arrives.  It  bursts  these  cere- 
ments; and  a  pure,  winged,  beautiful  creature,  it 
leaves  them  to  roam  henceforth  in  sunny  skies,  and 
find  its  bed  in  the  soft  bosom,  and  its  food  in  the 
nectar  of  odorous  flowers. 

Paul  saw  our  grave  in  the  furrow  of  the  plough  ; 


RESURRECTION. 


(    730    ) 


RESURRECTION. 


our  burial  in  the  corn  dropped  into  the  soil  ;  our 
decay  in  the  change  undergone  by  tlie  seed  ;  and 
our  resurrection,  wlien,  bursting  its  sheatli  and 
pushing  aside  tiie  clod,  it  rises  green  and  beautiful, 
to  wave  its  head  in  summer  days,  liigh  above  the 
ground  that  was  once  its  grave.  — GiUhrie. 

(4345)  Why  should  it  be  thought  incredible 
that  God  should  raise  the  dead  ?  Tlie  power 
required  for  this  is  not  greater,  after  all,  than  is 
exercised  in  tlie  productions  and  changes  which  are 
constantly  taking  place.  Natural  piocesses  and 
phenomena  do  nol  prove  the  fact,  but  they  may 
ceraiiily  ilhistrate  the  possibility  of  a  resunection. 
You  see  the  oak  springing  from  the  acorn — the 
plant  fiom  the  seed  whicii  perliaps  has  lain  in  a 
state  of  death  for  many  centuries — the  worm  leaving 
the  chrysalis  state,  and  emerging  from  it  a  "creature 
aerial,  ringed,  glorious,  radiant  viitli  beauty,  en- 
dowed with  new  senses  and  new  faculties,  to  seek 
in  a  higiier-  element  purer  food  and  nobler  enjoy- 
ments." Is  not  the  power  requisite  to  produce 
these  changes  competent  to  raise  the  dead  ?  They 
are  not  the  less  wonderful  that  they  are  so  common, 
and  their  very  commonness  should  rather  strengthen 
our  faith  in  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  ;  for  if 
such  exeicises  of  power  are  frequent,  why  sj^ould 
we  fnul  it  hard  to  believe  that  one  may  be  added 
to  the  many  for  the  purpose  of  recalling  tlie  dead 
to  life? 

It  is  true,  that  if  we  take  the  popular  view  of  the 
resurrection,  or  more  correctly  the  view  \\  hich  was 
at  one  time  popular — that  the  boily  raised  from  the 
dead  will  be  composed  01  the  very  same  matter  as 
the  body  which  was  laid  in  tlie  grave  ; — if  we  t;ike 
this  view  of  the  resurrection,  I  say,  the  objections 
which  are  brought  against  it  cannot  be  so  summarily 
disposed  of.  It  is  m  vain  that  we  appeal  to  the 
power  of  God  ;  for  tlie  objectors  will  tell  us  that 
such  a  resurrection  involves  a  contradiction — what 
is  absolutely  impossible — impossible  even  to  God. 
The  body,  they  say,  and  say  truly,  mingles  with  the 
soil  in  which  it  is  laid  ;  it  is  drawn  up  into  the 
plant  which  grows  on  the  surface  ;  the  plant  is  soon 
devoured  by  some  animal,  and  affords  nutriment 
to  its  system  ;  that  animal,  and  the  plant  also,  it 
may  be,  become  food  lor  man.  Thus,  the  matter 
of  one  man's  body  becomes  long  afterwards  part  of 
another  man's,  so  that,  at  death,  the  body  of  the 
two  may  have  been  compnsed  of  iireeisely  tlie  same 
matter.  Now  it  is  impossible  that  in  the  resurrec- 
tion the  same  matter  can  be  in  two  bodies  at  the 
same  lime  ;  hence  the  resurrection  of  the  body  can- 
not take  place. 

To  this  objection  we  need  only  reply,  that  the 
resurrection  you  describe  is  not  the  resurrection  of 
Scripture.  In  so  far  as  the  liible  gives  an  explnna- 
tion  of  the  event,  it  discountenances  the  supposition 
that  the  body  which  rises  from  the  grave  will  be 
composed  of  the  very  same  matter  as  tlie  body 
which  was  laid  tiiere.  "  TJiou  fool,  that  which  thou 
so-ioest  n  not  qiiukeued,  except  it  aie.  And  that 
vihic}'  thou  soivest,  thou  sowest  not  that  body  which 
shall  be."  —Landels. 

(4346.)  T  see  before  me  an  old  and  battered  cup 
which  many  a  black  lip  hath  touclied,  out  of  which 
many  a  villain's  throat  has  received  moisture.  It  is 
battered  and  covered  with  filth.  Who  could  tell 
what  meial  it  is?  It  is  brought  in  and  given  to  the 
silversmith  ;  he  no  sooner  receives  it  than  he  be^jins 


to  break  it  into  pieces  ;  he  dashes  it  into  shiVere 
again  and  again  ;  he  pounds  it  until  he  has  broken 
it,  then  he  puts  it  into  his  fining  pot  and  melts  it 
Now  you  l)egin  to  see  it  sparkle  again,  and  by  and 
by  he  beats  it  out  and  fashions  it  into  a  goodly 
chalice  out  of  which  a  king  may  driid<.  Is  this  the 
same?  the  very  same  thing.  This  glorious  cup; 
is  tliis  the  old  battered  silver  we  savv  just  now? 
silver,  did  I  say,  it  looked  like  battered  lilth.  Yes, 
it  is  the  same,  and  we  who  are  here  below  like 
vessels,  alas  !  too  unfit  for  the  Mastei's  use  ;  vessels 
which  liave  even  given  comfort  to  the  evil  ones,  and 
helped  to  do  the  work  of  Satan,  we  shall  be  put 
into  the  furnace  of  the  grave,  and  be  there  melted 
down  and  fused  and  fashioned  into  a  gloiic.us  wine- 
cup,  that  shall  stand  upon  the  banqueting  table  of 
the  Son  of  God.  — Spnrgeon. 

6.  A  necessary  caution  as  to  the  use  of  tlie  fore- 
gfoing  illustrations. 

(4347.)  We  are  accustomed  in  our  argu*npnts  on 
this  subject  to  apptal  to  natural  phenon  eni  :  but 
these  are  by  no  means  such  as  to  afford  pmof  ol  the 
event.  The  apostle  introduces  into  his  aigument 
on  the  resurrection  the  grain  of  wheat,  which  is  not 
quickened  except  it  die  ;  but  he  does  not  introduce 
it  as  a/;w/(he  was  too  good  a  logician  for  tiiat), 
but  only  to  ilhistrate  what  he  hnd  otherwise  proved, 
and  to  obviate  a  supposed  objection. 

The  plant  springs  from  the  grain  of  seed,  and  the 
oak  from  the  acorn,  but  these  are  by  no  means 
analogous  to  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  Tlie 
points  of  discrepancy  are  numerous  and  striking. 
In  these  cases,  one  oak  or  one  plant  proceeds  tr(jm 
another  very  much  as  men  ate  propagnteii  by 
natural  generation,  not  as  when  the  identical  body 
is  raised  from  the  dead.  Then  the  plant  or  the 
oak  does  not  decay,  and  another  plant  or  oak  >i)ring 
out  of  its  a>hes,  as  the  resurrection  body  rises  out 
of  the  ashes  of  the  body  which  was  laid  in  the  tomb. 
Even  the  acorn  does  not  become  dust  before  it 
germinates,  like  as  the  dead  body  is  dissolved. 
And,  moreover,  there  is  not  that  identity  between 
the  oak  which  produced  the  acorn  and  tlie  oak 
which  sprang  out  of  it,  that  there  is  between  the 
body  which  is  buried  and  the  body  which  cornea 
forth  from  the  grave. 

Take  another  case  :  the  worm  enters  the  chry- 
salis stale,  remains  apparently  dead  for  a  time, 
then  emerges  a  winged  insect,  glorious  as  compared 
with  what  it  was  ;  the  repulsive  has  iiecome  beauti- 
ful, the  weak  comparatively  strong  :  dotmied  10 
crawl  slowly  along  before,  it  now  flutters  in  the 
sunbeam,  and  floats  on  the  breeze  ;  is  suscejitible 
of  new  sensations,  and  endowed  witii  new  powers. 
It  is  a  wonderful  transition,  certainly,  and  may 
well  illustrate  the  possibility  of  a  resurrection,  but 
still  they  are  not  analogous.  The  identity  between 
the  butterfly  and  the  v\orm  is  pre-erved,  and  the 
chrysalis  state  somewhat  resembles  the  state  of 
death,  but  there  is  no  corruption  or  dissolution,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  body. 

Again  :  the  earth  during  winter,  frost-bound  and 
coveied  with  snow,  is  often  said  to  resemble  the 
state  of  death  ;  and  we  know  how  in  sjiring  if 
a^rain  teems  with  life,  how  plants  spring  up  in  the 
place  of,  and  of  the  same  species  as  others  which 
have  decayed  ;  but  neither  in  this  case  is  the  analogy 
compleie.  The  reanimated  earth  has  net  been 
dissolved  like  the  body  ;  and  though  the  new  plants 
are  oi  the  same  species  as  their  decayed  predeces- 


RESURRECTION. 


(    731     ) 


RESURREi  TION. 


tors,   they   are   not    iJentical.      Thus,   in    all   the 

phenomena  of  nature  you  can  find  notliing  strictly 
analo^'ous  to  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  ;  and 
tliouyh  you  could,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  analogy 
is  not  proof,  and  that,  though  it  could  be  found  in 
nnture.  it  would  afford  no  reason  for  the  conclusion 
thai  the  body  will  be  raised.  — Landels. 

«.  Replies  to  objectlona. 

(4348.)  There  are  some  who,  observing  that  the 
spirit  is  parted  from  the  flesh,  that  the  flesh  is 
turned  into  corru]Hion,  that  its  corruption  is 
reduced  to  dust,  that  this  dust  is  so  dissolved  into 
elementary  parts  that  it  is  incapable  of  being  seen 
by  the  eyes  of  man,  despair  of  tiie  possibility  of  the 
resurrection  being  brought  to  pass,  and  whilst  they 
gaze  upon  the  dry  bones,  they  distrust  its  being 
possible  for  these  to  be  clothed  with  flesh,  and  again 
flushing  into  life  ;  which  persons,  if  they  do  not 
hold  the  resurrection  of  the  body  on  the  principle 
of  obedience,  ought  certainly  to  hold  it  on  the 
principle  of  reason. 

For  what  does  the  universe  every  day  but  imitate 
in  its  elements  our  resurrection?  Thus,  by  the 
lapse  of  the  minutes  of  the  day,  the  temporal  light 
it^elf,  as  it  were,  dies,  when,  the  shade  of  night 
coming  on,  that  light  which  was  l^eheld  is  withdrawn 
from  sight,  and  it  daily  rises  again,  as  it  were,  when 
the  light  that  was  withdrawn  from  our  eyt-s,  upon 
the  night  being  suppressed,  is  renewed  afresh. 

From  the  pi  ogress  of  the  seasons,  too,  we  see  the 
shrubs  lose  the  greenness  of  their  foliage  and  cease 
from  putting  forth  fruit  ;  and  on  a  sudden,  as  if  from 
dried-up  wood,  by  a  kind  of  resurrection  coming, 
we  see  the  leaves  burst  forth,  the  fruit  grow  big, 
and  the  whole  tree  clothed  with  renewed  beauty. 

—  Gregory,  354-604. 

(4349.)  We  unceasingly  behold  the  small  seeds 
of  trees  committed  to  the  moislness  of  the  ground, 
wherefrom  not  long  afterwards  we  behold  large 
trees  arise,  and  bring  forth  leaves  and  fruit.  Let 
us  then  consider  the  little  seed  of  any  tree  whatever, 
which  is  thrown  into  the  ground,  for  a  tree  to  be 
p-oduced  therefrom,  and  let  us  take  in,  if  we  are 
capable  of  it,  where  in  that  exceeding  littleness  of 
the  seed  tliat  most  enormous  tree  was  buried  which 
proceeded  from  it?  Where  was  the  wood  ?  where 
was  the  bark?  where  the  verdure  of  the  foliage? 
wheie  the  abundance  of  the  fruit?  Was  there 
anytiiing  of  the  kind  perceived  in  the  seed  when 
it  was  thrown  into  the  ground?  And  yet,  by  the 
secret  Ariilicer  of  all  things  ordering  all  in  a 
wonderful  manner,  both  in  the  softness  of  the 
seed  there  lay  buried  the  roughness  of  the  bark, 
and  in  its  temlerness  there  was  hidden  the  strength 
of  its  timber,  and  in  its  dryness,  fertility  of  produc- 
tiveness. 

What  wonder,  then,  if  that  finest  dust  which  to 
our  eyes  is  resolved  into  the  elements.  He,  when 
He  is  minded,  fashions  again  into  the  human 
being,  who  from  the  finest  seeds  resuscitates  the 
largest  trees?  And  so,  seeing  that  we  have  been 
created  reasoB  nr  oeings,  we  ought  to  collect  the 
hope  of  our  own  resurrection  from  the  mere  aspect 
and  contemplation  of  the  objects  of  nature. 

—  Gregory,  354-604. 

(4350.)  What  is  the  wise  argument  of  the  gain- 
Boyers ;  rather,  I  should  say,  their  exceeding 
simple  t  ne  ?     "  Why,  how,  when  the  body  is  mixed 


\  up  with  the  earth,  and  is  become  earth,  and  this 
again  is  removed  elsewhere,  how,"  say  they,  "shall 
it  rise  again  ?"  For  to  thee  this  seems  impossible, 
but  not  to  the  unsleeping  Eye.  For  unto  that  all 
things  are  clear.  And  thou  in  that  confusion  sees: 
no  distinction  of  parts;  but  He  knows  them  all. 
Since  also  the  heart  of  thy  neighbour  thou  knowest 
not,  nor  the  things  in  it;  but  lie  knows  all.  If, 
then,  because  of  thy  not  knowing  how  CJod  raises 
men  up,  thou  bflievest  not  that  1  le  does  raise  them, 
wilt  thou  disbelieve  that  He  knows  also  what  is  in 
thy  mind?  for  neither  is  that  obvious  to  view. 
And  yet  in  the  body  it  is  visible  matter,  though  it 
be  dissolved  ;  but  those  thoughts  are  invisible. 
Shall  He,  then,  who  knows  with  all  certainty  the 
invi.-^ible  things,  not  see  the  things  which  be  visible, 
and  easily  detach  the  scattered  parts  of  the  body  ? 
Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(4351.)  Tt  is  objected  that  the  resurrection  of  these 
numerical  boilies,  when  they  are  devoured  and 
turned  into  the  substance  of  other  bodies,  is  a  thing 
incredible. 

Ans'ivers: —  I.  If  it  be  neither  against  the  power, 
the  wisdom,  or  the  will  of  God,  it  is  not  incretlible 
at  all  ;  but  it  is  not  against  any  of  these.  Who  can 
say  that  God  is  unable  to  raise  the  dead,  who  seelh 
so  much  greater  things  performed  by  Him  in  the 
daily  motion  of  the  sun,  or  earth,  and  in  the 
support  and  course  of  the  whole  frame  of  nature? 
He  that  can  every  spring  give  a  kind  of  resurrection 
to  plants  and  flowers  and  fruits  of  the  earth,  can 
easily  raise  our  bodies  from  the  dust  ;  and  no  mac 
can  prove  that  the  wisdom  of  God,  nor  yet  His  will, 
are  against  our  resurrection  ;  but  that  both  are,  for 
it  may  be  proved  by  His  promises.  Shall  that 
which  is  beyond  the  power  of  man  be,  therefore, 
objected  as  a  difficulty  to  God  ? 

2.  Yea,  it  is  congruous  to  the  wisdom  and 
governing  justice  of  God,  that  the  same  body  which 
was  partaker  with  the  soul  in  sin  and  duty  should 
be  partaker  with  it  in  suffering  or  felicity. 

3.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  did  pur]iosely  die  and 
rise  again  in  His  human  body,  to  put  the  resurrec- 
tion out  of  doubt,  by  undeniable,  ocular  deinonstra- 
tion,  and  by  the  certainty  of  belief. 

4.  There  is  some  natural  reason  for  the  resurrec- 
tion in  the  soul's  inclination  to  its  body.  As  it  is 
unwilling  to  lay  it  down,  it  will  be  willing  to  re- 
assume  it  when  God  shall  say  the  time  is  come. 
As  we  may  conclude  at  night  when  they  are  going 
to  bed,  that  the  people  of  city  or  country  will  rise 
the  next  morning  and  put  on  their  clothes,  and  not 
go  naked  about  the  sireets,  because  there  is  in 
them  a  natural  inclination  to  rising  and  to  clothes, 
and  a  natural  averseness  to  lie  still,  or  to  go  un- 
clothed ;  so  may  we  conclude,  from  the  soul's 
natural  inclination  to  its  body,  that  it  will  re- 
assume  it  as  soon  as  God  consenteth. 

5.  And  all  our  objections,  which  reason  from 
supjiosed  contradictions,  vanish,  because  none  of  us 
all  have  so  much  skill  in  i)hysics  as  to  know  what 
it  is  which  individualeth  this  numerical  body,  and 
so  what  it  is  which  is  to  be  restored  ;  but  we  all 
confess  that  it  is  not  the  present  mass  of  flesh  and 
humours  which,  being  in  a  continual  flux,  is  nt^t 
the  same  this  year  which  it  was  the  last,  and  may 
vanish  long  before  we  die. 

— Baxter,  16 15-1691. 

(4352.)    Some    have    said,    "But    when    men's 


RESURRECTION. 


(    732     ) 


RESURRECTION. 


bodies  are  dead,  and  are  committed  to  the  grave, 
Ihey  are  often  digged  up,  and  the  careless  sexton 
mixes  tliem  up  vvitii  common  mould  ;  nay,  it  some- 
times hajipens  tliat  they  are  carted  aw;iy  from  the 
churchyard,  and  strewn  over  the  fields,  to  become  a 
rich  manure  for  wheat,  so  that  the  particles  of  the 
body  are  absorbed  into  the  corn  that  is  growing, 
and  they  travel  round  in  a  circle  until  they  become 
the  food  of  man.  So  that  the  particle  which  man 
have  been  in  the  body  of  one  man  enters  into  the 
body  of  another.  Now,"  say  they,  "how  can  all 
these  particles  be  traced?"  Our  answer  is.  If  it 
were  necessary,  every  atom  could  be  traced.  Omni- 
potence nnd  Omniscience  could  do  it.  If  it  were 
needful  that  God  should  search  out  and  find  out 
every  individual  atom  that  ever  existed,  He  would 
be  able  to  detect  the  present  abode  of  every  single 
particle.  The  astronomer  is  able  to  tell  the  posi- 
tion of  one  star  by  the  aberration  of  the  motion  of 
the  other ;  by  his  calculation,  apart  from  observa- 
tion, he  can  discover  an  unknown  orb  ;  its  hugeness 
puts  it  within  his  reach.  But  to  God  there  is  nothing 
little  or  great ;  He  can  find  out  the  orbit  of  one 
atom  by  the  aberration  in  the  orbit  of  another 
atom.  He  can  pursue  and  overtake  each  separate 
particle.  But  recollect  this  is  not  necessary  at  all, 
for  the  identity  may  be  preserved  without  their 
beinj;  the  same  atoms.  Just  go  back  to  the  excel- 
lent illustration  ot  our  text.  The  wheat  is  just  the 
same,  but  in  the  new  wheat  that  has  grown  up 
there  may  not  be  one  solitary  particle  of  that 
matter  which  was  in  the  seed  cast  into  the  ground. 
A  little  seed  that  shall  not  weigh  the  hundredth  part 
of  an  ounce  falls  into  the  earlli,  and  springs  up  and 
produces  a  forest  tree  that  shall  weigh  two  tons. 
Now,  if  there  be  any  pai  t  of  the  original  seed  in  the 
tree,  it  must  be  but  in  the  proportion  of  a  millionth 
part,  or  something  less  than  that.  And  yet  is  the 
tree  positively  identical  with  the  seed — it  is  the 
same  thing.  And  so  there  may  be  only  a  millionth 
part  of  the  particles  of  my  body  in  the  new  body 
■which  I  shall  wear,  but  yet  it  may  be  still  the  same. 
It  is  not  the  identity  of  the  matter  that  will  make 
positive  identity.  — Spurgeon. 


7.  Its  diverse  Issues. 

(4353-)  ^Vhen  the  archangel's  trumpet  sounds, 
then  tlie  saints  shall  sing  ;  the  bodies  of  iielievers 
shall  come  out  of  the  grave  to  be  made  happy,  as 
the  chief  butler  came  out  of  the  prison,  and  v/as 
restored  to  all  his  dignity  at  the  court  ;  but  the 
bodies  of  the  wicked  shall  come  out  of  the  grave, 
as  the  chief  baker  out  of  prison,  to  be  executed 
(Gen.  xl.  22).  — H^aiitfii.  I 6q6. 


8.  Easter  Sunday. 

(4354.)  Surely,  even  the  angels  in  heaven  keep 
these  pascal  solemnities  with  joy  :  the  glory  of 
ihat  victorious  Lion  who  hath  triumphed  over 
death  and  hell  is  even  to  them  matter  ol  rejoicing. 
It  is  the  Sabbath  of  the  new  world,  our  passover 
from  everlasting  death  to  life;  our  true  jubilee,  the 
first  day  of  our  week,  and  the  chief  in  our  calendar. 
Herein  our  Phoenix  rose  from  His  ashes,  our  Eagle 
renewed  His  feathers,  the  First  begotten  of  the 
dead  was  born  from  the  womb  ot  the  earth.  Christ, 
like  the  sun  eclipsed  by  the  moon,  got  Himself  out 
by  His  resurrection  ;  and,  as  the  sun  by  the  moon, 


He  was  darkened  by  them  to  whom  He  gave  light. 
His  death  did  justify  us,  His  resurrection  did  justify 
His  death.  He  buried  the  law  with  liimsell,  and 
both  with  honour  ;  He  raised  up  the  gospel  witli 
Himoclf,  and  both  with  glory.  His  resurrection 
was  the  first  stone  of  the  foundation,  "In  Chiist 
shall  all  be  made  alive,"  and  the  last  stone  of  the 
roof,  for  God  assures  us  He  shall  come  to  judgment, 
by  this  token,  that  He  raised  Him  up  from  the  dead 
(Acts  xvii.  31).  Satan  danced  on  His  grave  for 
joy ;  wlien  lie  had  Him  there  once,  he  thought 
Him  sure  enough  ;  but  He  rose  again  and  trampled 
on  the  devil's  throne  with  triumph.  Tliis  is  the 
faith  peculiar  to  Christians  :  the  Jews  believe  Him 
dead,  not  living;  we  believe  that  He  is  risen,  and 
sits  at  the  right  hand  of  God.  As  -Moses  led  the 
people  to  Canaan  through  the  wilderness,  so  Christ 
leans  us  to  heaven  through  the  grave.  His  resur- 
rection is  not  only  the  object  of  our  faith,  but  the 
example  of  our  hope.  We  all  carry  mortality  about 
us,  and  the  strongest  man  is  but  like  Nebuchad- 
nezzar's image  ;  though  his  head  be  of  gold,  and 
his  ribs  of  brass,  yet  his  feet  are  of  clay  :  a  stone 
thrown  at  the  feet  overturns  this  great  image,  and 
down  falls  man.  But,  "O  death,  I  will  be  thy 
death."  Durst  death  kill  Christ  ?  Christ  there- 
fore shall  kill  death.  "  If  in  this  life  only  we  have 
hope  in  Christ,  we  are  of  all  men  most  nnserable." 
But,  as  one  saith,  the  hope  of  life  immortal  is  the 
life  of  our  life  mortal.  Death  and  the  grave  swallow 
all,  and  then  burst  ;  as  crammed  covetousness  dis- 
gorgeth  itself  by  a  prodigal  heir. 

The  Jews  craved  a  sign,  and  had  it  (Matt.  xii. 
3^)  39)  ;  yst  then  spake  against  it,  or  wondered  at 
it.  To  us  it  shall  be  more  than  a  sign,  it  shall  have 
wonder,  and  wonder  enough  ;  but  we  will  not  lose 
our  fruit  or  part  therein  for  a  world.  Hi:  i,  that 
this  day  rose  from  the  clods,  we  expect  from  the 
clouds,  to  raise  our  bodies,  to  perform  His  jiro- 
mises,  to  finish  our  faith,  to  perfect  our  glory,  and 
to  draw  us  unto  Himself.  I  do  not  say.  Come,  see 
the  place  where  they  laiil  Him,  that  is  empty  ;  but. 
Come,  see  the  place  where  He  is;  heie  is  the 
Lord.  I  say  not  with  Mary,  They  have  taken 
away  the  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  havo 
laid  Him  ;  He  is  personally  in  heaven.  He  h 
mystically,  sacramentally,  yea,  in  a  spiritual  sense, 
He  is  really  here.  Himself  said,  I  have  earnestly 
desired  to  eat  this  passover  with  you :  let  ua 
earnestly  desire  to  eat  this  sacrament  with  Iliin. 
God  said  once,  Take  and  eat  of  every  tree  but  one  ; 
but  man  then  mistook  the  fruit,  he  did  eat  and  fell. 
Ho  now  says  again.  Take  and  eat  ;  this  is  My 
body,  which  is  given  for  you  :  let  us  not  mistake, 
but  eat  and  live  for  ever.  And  the  body  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  which  was  given  for  us,  preserves 
our  bodies  and  souls  into  everlasting  life. 

As  God  spake  to  the  fish,  and  it  cast  up  Jonah, 
commanded  the  earth,  and  it  delivered  up  Jesus  ;  so 
He  will  speak  to  all  creatures,  and  they  shall  not 
detain  one  dust  of  our  bodies.  There  shall  be  a 
dry  ground  for  this  valley  of  tears,  a  land  of  the 
living  for  this  Golgotha  of  the  dead,  a  settled 
mansion  for  this  movable  pavilion.  Christ  had 
His  Easter-day  by  Himself;  there  shall  be  one 
general  Easter-day  for  us  all,  when  the  wicked 
shall  rise  to  contempt,  the  faithful  to  eternity  of 
days.  Here  shall  be  no  terror  to  afiright  us,  no 
sorrow  to  afflict  us,  no  sickness  to  distemper  us,  no 
death  to  dissolve  us,  no  sin  to  endanger,  lor  ever- 
more. — Adams  f  1654. 


RICHES. 


(    733    ) 


RICHES. 


RICHES, 

1.  Rlcliss  and  virtue  are  not  Incompatible. 

(4355-)  Tlie  declaimers  on  the  incompatibility  of 
wealtli  and  virtue  are  mere  declaimers,  and  nothing 
more.  For  you  will  often  find  them,  in  the  next 
breath,  applaiuling  or  condemning  every  measure 
or  institution  according  to  its  supposed  tendency  to 
increase  or  diminisli  wealth.  Vou  will  find  them 
not  only  readdy  accepting  wealth  themselves  from 
any  honourable  source,  and  anxious  to  secure  from 
poverty  their  childien  and  all  most  dear  to  them 
(for  this  might  lie  referred  to  the  prevalence  of 
passion  over  principle),  but  even  offering  up  solemn 
prayeis  to  heaven  for  the  prosperity  of  their  native 
country,  and  contemplating  with  joy  a  flourishing 
condition  of  her  ai;riculture,  manufactures,  or  com- 
merce,— in  short,  of  the  sources  of  her  wealth. 
Seneca  s  discourses  in  praise  of  poverty  would,  I 
have  no  doubt,  lie  rivalled  by  many  writers  of  this 
island,  if  one-half  of  the  revenues  he  drew  from  the 
then  inhabitants  of  it,  by  lending  them  money  at 
high  interest,  were  proposed  as  a  prize.  Such  de- 
claimers against  wealth  resemble  the  Harpies  of 
Virgil,  seeking  to  excite  disgust  at  the  banquet  of 
which  they  are  themselves  eager  to  partake. 

—  Whately,  1 787-1863. 

(4356.)  Tn  each  successive  age  Christians  have, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  risen,  on  the  whole,  in  the 
possibility  of  wielding  secular  elements  by  their 
spiritual  power  ;  and  all  reasonings  and  analogies 
point  to  a  day  when  humility,  purity,  justice,  love, 
faith,  and  devotion,  sliall  be  just  as  possible  witii 
secular  wealth  and  worldly  power  as  without  them  ; 
nay,  more  possible.  I  believe  that  when  the  time 
of  ripeness  comes,  it  will  be  found  that  beauty  and 
power  are  the  only  appropriate  garments  of  pieiy, 
of  moral  excellence.  They  have  been  stolen  by  the 
passions  and  the  appetites ;  but  they  are  to  be  worn 
in  their  fullest  glory  only  by  the  highest  sentiments 
that  are  in  man.  I  do  not  believe,  except  as  a 
temporary  thing,  as  an  expedient,  that  men  are 
appointed  to  suffering  and  limitation.  A  man  that 
is  travelling  home  may  submit  to  the  necessity  of 
sleeping  under  trees,  without  thinking  that  it  is 
best  always  to  sleep  under  trees.  A  man  may  feed 
himself  out  of  a  wallet  while  he  is  in  a  wilderness 
seeking  a  city  of  refuge,  without  thinking  that  every 
man  ought  to  live  from  hand  to  mouth.  And 
although  it  is  true  that,  regarded  as  a  wayfarer,  man 
is,  in  the  whole  line  of  development,  subject  to 
cross-bearing  and  exclusion  ;  yet,  I  believe  that 
characteristically  he  is  a  creature  that  was  made  to 
be  rich,  and  wise,  and  influential,  and  active  ;  and 
that  all  the  powers  of  nature  are  to  be  his,  and  that 
he  is  to  rule  them  ;  and  that  we  come  near  to  the 
millennial  glory  in  proportion  as  multitudes  of  men 
know  how  to  govern  all  things,  and  not  to  be 
governed  by  them.  In  other  words,  amplitude  is 
my  conception  of  the  Christian  man— not  poverty. 
Joy  is  the  key-note  of  Christian  experience — not 
sorrow.  Sorrow  is  the  medicine  by  which  we  come 
to  it. 

Did  you  never  hear,  when  the  harpist  was  pre- 
paring for  sweet  melodies,  how  he  took  the  chords 
that  were  out  of  tune,  and  commenced  screwing 
them  and  fingering  them,  and  how  a  wail  went  up 
Irom  them,  till,  one  by  one,  they  had  all  been 
brought  to  the  right  key,  and  how  then  he  swept 
his  hands  over  them, and  brought  exqu  site  harmonies 


forth  from  them  ?  The  process  of  chording  was  one 
of  hideous  sounds ;  but  the  sounds  that  were  pro- 
duced alter  the  instrument  was  put  in  order  were 
sweet  and  agreeable  to  the  ear.  And  I  believe 
that  the  proper  condition  of  man  is  one  in  which 
his  soul  gives  forth  music,  and  an  abundance  of  it. 

— Beecher. 

2.  Are  In  themselves  desirable. 

(4357.)  Riches  are  the  stairs  whereby  men  climb 
up  into  the  height  of  dignity,  the  fortification  that 
defends  it,  the  lood  it  lives  upon,  the  oil  that  keeps 
the  lamp  of  honour  from  going  out.  Honour  is  a 
bare  robe  if  riches  do  not  lace  and  flourish  it,  and 
riches  a  dull  lump  till  honour  give  a  soul  to  quicken 
it.  — Adams,  1654. 

3.  Yet  they  are  not  to  be  too  earnestly  desired. 

(4358. )  When  a  man  is  to  travel  into  a  far  country, 
a  great  burthen  at  his  back  will  but  hinder  him  in 
his  journey  ;  one  staff  in  his  hand  may  comfortably 
support  him,  but  a  bundle  of  staves  would  be  trouble- 
some. Thus  a  competency  of  these  outward  things 
may  hajipily  help  us  in  the  way  to  heaven,  whereas 
abundance  may  be  hurtful,  and,  like  long  garments 
to  a  man  that  walks  on  in  the  way,  will  trip  up  our 
heels  too,  if  we  look  not  well  about  us. 

—Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(4359.)  Abundance  of  wealth  is  the  foundation  and 
ground  ot  many  dangerous  temptations,  whereby 
Satan  chokes  in  us  the  seed  of  God's  Word,  weans 
us  from  the  love  of  heavenly  things,  puffs  us  up 
with  pride,  and  makes  us  forgetful  of  Cod  and  of 
all  duties  which  we  owe  unto  Him.  So  that  like 
as  our  bodies  when  they  excessively  abound  in  any 
humour,  though  it  be  never  so  good  in  itself,  are 
thereby  cast  into  separate  diseases,  if  it  be  not 
abated  and  purged  ;  so  it  fares  with  us  in  respect 
of  our  states — for  when  they  abound  with  super- 
fluity of  these  good  things  which  are  earthly  and 
temporal,  and  are  not  abated  by  employing  them 
to  good  uses,  they  make  our  souls  dangerously  sick 
in  sin,  and  betray  them  to  be  overcome  by  the 
temptations  of  the  devil.  And  therefore  as  the  dis- 
creet merchant,  though  his  wares  be  never  so  good, 
fits  his  burden  to  his  ship,  not  overloading  it  with 
more  than  it  can  well  carry,  for  fear  lest  all  should 
sink  ;  and  if  a  storm  happen,  is  ready  to  lighten  his 
ship  by  casting  out  a  part  of  this  al>o,  that  so  the 
residue  with  himself  may  escape  the  danger  :  so  we 
are  to  use  the  like  wisdom,  and  not  overburden  our 
souls  and  minds  with  a  greater  load  of  these  earthly 
things  than  they  can  well  bear,  but  allow  unto  them 
only  a  fit  and  competent  proportion  ;  and  if  Satan, 
taking  advajitage  of  our  plenty,  do  endanger  us 
with  the  storms  of  his  temptations,  we  are  to  ease 
ourselves  by  giving  part  of  that,  which  otherwise 
we  might  well  use,  to  the  poor,  to  preserve  our 
souls  irom  suffering  shipwreck,  and  so  shall  we  not 
only  save  the  rest  for  our  own  use,  but  casting  our 
wares  upon  the  face  of  these  waters,  we  shall  after 
many  days  find  them,  with  no  small  advantage. 
(Eccles.  xi.  I.)  — Downajne,  1644. 

(4360.)  In  an  artichoke  there  is  a  little  picking 
meat,  not  so  wholesome  as  delicious,  and  nothing 
to  that  it  shows  lor  ;  more  than  the  tenth  part  is 
unprofitable  leaves  ;  and  besides,  there  is  a  coie  in 
the  midst  of  it,  that  will  choke  a  man  it  he  take  not 
good  heed.  Such  a  thing  is  wealth  that  men  so 
covetously  desire ;  it  is  like  some  kind  ot  &sh,  so 


RICHES. 


(    734    ) 


RICHES. 


fall  of  bones,  and  unseen,  that  no  man  can  eat  of 
them  without  danger.  The  rich  man's  wealth  is 
very  troublesome  to  the  outward  man,  lil<e  a  long 
garment  that  is  too  wide,  if  he  tread  upon  it  he 
may  chance  to  catch  a  fall,  a  fall  into  much  discon- 
tent and  envy  of  the  world  ;  but  to  the  soul,  riches, 
if  not  well  employed,  prove  very  pernicious,  mak- 
ing a  man  vainly  confident  ;  thinking  that  he  is  so 
walled  and  moated  about  that  he  is  out  of  all  gun- 
shot, when  he  is  more  open  to  danger  than  a  poorer 
man  ;  then  they  make  liim  proud,  and  pride,  savs 
St.  Bernard,  is  the  rich  man's  coffin  ;  it  bluws  him 
like  a  bladder  with  a  quill,  then  he  grows  secure, 
and  so  falls  into  sudden  ruin,  — OUs. 

(4361.)  As  the  children  of  Israel  passing  along 
the  wilderness,  marched  forward  on  their  way  when 
the  cloud  went  that  conducted  them,  but  there 
stood  still  where  it  stayed  ;  so  may  our  affections 
walk  on  while  God's  hand  goes  before  them  :  but 
look  where  God  stays  His  hand  and  ceases  to  give, 
there  should  our  heart  stay  likewise,  and  we  cease 
to  desire.  — Gataker,  1574-1656. 

(4362.)  Since  "  Riches  are  not  for  ever,  nor  doth 
the  crown  endure  to  every  generation  ;  "  yea,  since 
tliey  must  be  left  very  soon,  nor  is  there  any  cer- 
tainty of  keeping  them  any  time  ;  that  one  day  may 
consume  them,  one  night  may  dispossess  us  of  them 
and  our  lile  together  with  them,  there  can  be  no 
reason  why  we  should  be  so  solicitous  about  them  ; 
no  account  given  of  our  setting  so  high  a  rate  upon 
them.  For  who  would  much  regard  the  having 
custody  of  a  rich  treasure  for  a  day  or  two,  then  to 
be  stripped  of  all,  and  left  bare?  To  be  today 
invested  in  large  domains,  and  to-morrow  to  be 
dispossessed  of  them?  No  man  surely  would  be  so 
fond,  as  mucii  to  affect  the  condition.  Yet  this  is 
our  case  ;  whatever  we  call  ours,  we  are  but 
guardians  thereof  for  a  few  days.  This  considera- 
tion, therefore,  may  serve  to  repress  or  moderate  in 
us  all  covetous  desires,  proud  conceits,  vain  con- 
fidences and  satislaclions  in  respect  to  worldly 
wealth.  — Barrow,  1630-1677. 

(4363.)  You  desire  not  the  biggest  shoes  or 
clothes,  but  the  meetest;  so  do  by  your  dignity  and 
estate.  — Baxter,  16 15-1691. 

(4364.)  Plutarch  tells  us,  that  when  Caesar  passed 
by  a  smoky,  nasty  village  at  the  foot  of  the  Aljis, 
some  of  his  commanders  merrily  asked  him  whether 
there  was  such  a  stir  for  commands  and  dignities 
and  honours  among  those  cottages  as  there  w  as  at 
Rome?  The  answer  is  easy.  Do  you  think  that 
an  Antony,  a  Mark,  a  Jerome,  or  such  other  of  the 
ancient  retired  Christians,  were  not  wiser  an'd 
happier  men  than  a  Nero  or  a  Caligula,  yea,  or  a 
Julius  or  Augustus  Caesar?  Is  it  a  desirable  thing 
to  be  a  lord  or  ruler,  before  we  turn  to  common 
earth  ;  and  as  Marius  that  was  one  day  made 
emperor,  and  reigned  the  next,  and  was  slain  by  a 
soldier  the  next  ;  so  to  be  worshipped  to-day,  and 
laid  in  the  <lust,  if  not  in  hell,  to-morrow?  It  was 
the  saying  of  the  Emperor  Severus,  "  Omnia  fni, 
sed  nihil  t^xpalii;"  and  of  King  David,  "  I  have  seen 
an  end  01  all  per:ection."  Oh,  value  these  things 
but  as  they  deserve.  Speak  impartially.  Are  not 
those  that  are  striving  to  get  up  the  ladder  foolish 
and  ridiculous,  when  those  that  aie  at  the  tup  have 
attained  but  danger,  trouble,  and  envy,  and  those 
that  fall  down  are  accounted  miserable  ?     There  are  j 


more  draughts  of  poison  given  in  golden  than  iB 
earthen  vessels,  saith  the  poet.  The  Scythian, 
therefore,  was  no  fool,  who,  when  the  Eniperoi 
Mich.  Paleologus  sent  him  precious  ornaments  and 
jewels,  asked  wliat  they  were  goud  for  ;  whether 
they  would  preserve  him  from  calanniy,  sickness, 
or  death,  and  sent  them  home  when  he  heard  they 
were  of  no  more  use.  — Baxter,  161 5-1691. 

(4365.)  Do  not  be  over-anxious  about  riches. 
Get  as  much  of  true  wisdom  and  goodness  as  you 
can  ;  but  be  satisfied  with  a  very  moderate  portion 
of  this  world's  good.  Riches  may  prove  a  curse  as 
well  as  a  blessing. 

1  was  walking  through  an  orchard,  looking  about 
me,  when  I  saw  a  low  tree  laden  more  heavily  with 
fruit  than  the  rest.  On  a  nearer  examination,  it 
appeared  that  the  tree  had  been  dragged  to  the  very 
earth,  and  broken  by  the  weight  of  its  treasures. 
'■•Oh!"  said  I,  gazing  on  the  tree,  "here  lies  one 
who  has  been  rumed  by  his  riches." 

In  another  part  of  my  walk,  I  came  up  with  a 
shejiherd,  who  was  lamenting  the  loss  of  a  sheep 
that  lay  mangled  and  dead  at  his  feet.  On  inquiry 
about  the  matter,  he  told  me  that  a  strange  dog  had 
attacked  the  flock,  that  the  rest  of  the  sheep  had 
got  away  through  a  hole  in  the  lie<lge,  but  that  the 
ram  now  dead  had  more  wool  on  his  back  than  the 
rest,  and  the  thorns  of  the  hedge  held  him  fast  till 
the  dog  had  worried  him.  "Here  is  another," 
said  I,  "  ruiised  by  his  riches." 

At  the  close  of  my  ramble,  I  met  a  man  hobbling 
along  on  two  wooden  legs,  leaning  on  two  slicks. 
"Tell  me,"  said  I,  "  my  poor  fellow,  how  y^u  came 
to  lose  your  legs  ?"  "  Why,  sir,"  said  he,  "  in  my 
younger  days  I  was  a  soldier.  With  a  few  comrades 
I  attacked  a  party  of  the  enemy,  and  overcame 
them,  and  we  began  to  load  ourselves  with  spoil. 
My  comrades  were  satisfied  with  little,  but  I 
burdened  myself  with  as  much  as  I  could  carry. 
We  were  pursued;  my  companions  escaped,  but  I 
was  overtaJ<en  and  so  cruelly  wounded,  that  I  only 
saved  my  life  afterwards  by  losing  my  legs.  It  was 
a  bad  affair,  sir;  but  it  is  too  late  to  repent  of  it 
now."  "Ah,  friend,"  thought  I,  "like  the  fruit 
tree  and  the  mangled  sheep,  you  may  date  ynur 
downfall  to  your  possessions.  It  was  your  riches 
that  ruined  you." 

When  I  see  so  many  rich  people,  as  I  do,  caring 
so  much  for  their  bodies  and  so  little  for  their  souls, 
I  pity  them  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  an<i 
sometimes  think  there  are  as  many  ruined  by  riches 
as  by  poverty.  "They  that  will  be  rich  fall  into 
temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into  many  loolish  and 
hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and 
]ierdition."  The  prayer  will  suit  you,  perhaps,  as 
well  as  it  does  me,  "Give  me  neither  poverty  nor 
riches  ;  feed  me  with  food  convenient  tor  me  :  lest 
I  be  full  and  deny  Thee,  and  say.  Who  is  the  Lord  ? 
or  lest  I  be  poor  and  steal,  and  take  the  name  of 
my  God  in  vain."  — Old  Hunipkrey. 

4.  Insatiability  of  the  desire  for  them. 

(4366.)  The  second  evil  which  attends  the  pot- 
session  of  riches  is  an  insatialile  desire  of  getting 
more  (Eccles.  v.  10).  "  He  who  I'^ves  money  shall 
not  be  satisfied  with  it,"  says  Solomon.  And  1  be- 
lieve it  would  be  no  hard  matter  to  assign  more 
instances  of  such  as  riches  have  made  covetuus,  than 
of  such  ascovetousness  has  made  rich.  Upon  which 
account   a   man   can   never    truly   enjoy    what    h«' 


RICHES. 


(    735     ) 


RICHES. 


actually  has  through  the  eager  pursuit  of  what  he 
has  not  ;  his  heart  is  still  running  out ;  still  upon 
the  chase  of  a  new  game,  and  so  never  thinks  of 
using  what  it  has  already  acquired.  And  must  it 
not  now  be  one  of  the  greatest  miseries  for  a  man 
to  have-  a  perpetual  hunger  upon  him,  nnd  to  have 
his  ajipelite  grow  fiercer  and  sharper  amidst  tlie 
very  tjbjects  and  opportunities  of  sati.slactiou  ?  Yet 
so  it  is  usually  with  men  hugely  rich.  They  have, 
and  they  covet ;  riches  flow  m  upon  them,  and  yet 
riches  are  the  only  things  they  are  still  looking 
alter.  Their  desires  are  answered,  and  while  ilicy 
are  answered  they  are  enlarged  ;  tliey  grow  wider 
and  stronger,  and  bring  such  a  dropsy  upon  the  soul, 
that  the  n)ore  it  take>  in,  the  more  it  may  ;  just  like 
some  drunkards,  who  even  drink  themselves  athirst, 
and  have  no  reason  in  the  world  for  their  drinking 
more  but  their  having  drank  too  much  already. 
— South,  1633-1716. 

6.  Are  not  to  be  too  ardently  loved. 

(4367.)  A  garment  that  hangs  loose  abou,'  a  man 
is  put  off  with  ease  ;  but  so  is  not  the  skin  tiiat 
sticks  fast  to  the  flesh,  nor  the  sliirt  that  cleaves 
fast  to  tlie  ulcerous  le|ier  ;  atootli  if  it  be  loose,  it 
comes  out  with  ease,  but  if  it  stick  fast  in  the  head 
it  is  not  pulled  out  but  with  pain,  yea,  many  times 
it  brings  away  some  piece  of  tlie  gum  or  jaw  wiih 
ii  So  here,  a  man  is  content  willingly  to  part  with 
his  riches,  when  his  heart  is  not  set  upon  his  wealth  ; 
but  if  his  heart  be  glued  to  it,  it  even  rends  his 
heart  in  two  to  part  with  it.  And  that  is  the 
reason  why  Job  blessed  Gud,  when  lie  took  away 
all  that  ever  he  had  from  Him  ;  whereas  most  men, 
if  God  take  from  them  but  a  small  pittance  of  that 
they  have,  are  ready,  as  the  devil  untruly  said 
that  Job  would  do,  even  to  curse  Him  to  His  face. 
— Gataker,  1 5  74- 1 654. 

(4368.)  Riches  are  like  a  rose  in  a  man's  hand  : 
if  he  use  it  gently,  it  will  preserve  its  savour  and  its 
scent  and  colour  a  great  v\  hile  ;  but  if  he  crush  it 
and  handle  it  roughly,  ii  losetli  both  its  colour  and 
sweetness.  Thus,  if  a  rich  man  employ  his  wealth 
well,  he  will  possess  it  the  longer ;  but  if  he  set  his 
heart  too  much  upon  it,  he  will  quickly  lose  it  :  he 
may  possess  it,  but  by  no  means  must  he  let  his 
wealth  possess  him.  — Spctuer,  1658. 

(4369.)  As  the  kingdoms  and  glory  of  the  world 
were  contemned  by  Christ  in  the  hour  of  His  temp- 
tation, so  they  are  inconsiderable  to  procure  His 
approbation.  Trust  not,  therefore,  to  uncertain 
riches  ;  value  them  but  as  they  will  prove  at  last. 
As  you  stand  on  higher  ground  than  others,  it  is 
meet  that  you  should  see  further.  The  greater  are 
your  advantai^es,  the  wiser  and  better  you  should 
be;  and  therefore  should  better  perceive  the  differ- 
ence between  things  tempoial  and  eternal.  It  is 
always  dark  where  these  glowworms  sliine,  and 
where  a  rotten  post  doth  seem  a  fire. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  Are  loved  by  many  who  flatter  themselves 
that  they  are  free  from  avarice. 

(4370.)  As  sick  men  use  to  love  health  better 
than  those  that  never  felt  the  want  of  it ;  so  it  is 
too  common  with  pnor  men  to  love  riches  better 
than  the  rich  that  never  needed.  And  yet,  poor 
souls,  they  deceive  themselves,  and  cry  out  against 
the   rich,    as    il    they   were   the  only   lovers  of  tne 


v/orld,  when  they  love  it  more  themselves  thougi 
they  cannot  get  it.  — Baxter,   1615-1691. 

T.  Reasons  for  which  they  are  sought. 

(4371.)  The  devil  spins  silk  as  well  as  bemp  oc 
flax  ;  and  when  he  wants  to  cation  a  trout  that  will 
not  bite  where  it  can  see  the  line,  he  spins  a  line  so 
small  that  it  cannot  be  seen,  and  puts  the  bait  upon 
it,  and  the  fish  is  caught.  And  if  ever  there  is  an 
invisible  line  with  l)ait  at  the  end  of  it,  and  with 
the  devil  at  the  end  of  the  rod,  it  is  when  a  man  is 
going  to  make  money  for  the  sake  of  using  it  to  do 
good  with.  If  there  is  ever  a  time  when  Satan 
laughs,  and  says,  "  I  have  caught  a  gudgeon  1  "  it 
is  then.  — Beeclier. 

8.  Do  not  of  themselves  make  us  honourable. 

(4372.)  As  fair  tapestry  covereth  foul  and  broken 
walls;  even  so  riches  may  well  make  a  sian  more 
honourable  in  the  sight  of  the  world. 

— Caiudray,  1609. 

(4373.)  Prize  not  thyself  by  what  thou  hast,  but 
by  what  thou  art.  He  that  values  a  jewel  by  its 
golden  frame,  or  a  book  by  its  silver  clasps,  or  a 
man  by  his  vast  estate,  errs.  If  thou  art  not  worth 
more  than  the  world  can  make  thee,  thy  Redeemer 
hail  a  bad  pennyworth,  or  thou  an  uncurious  Ke- 
deemer.  — Qttaj-les,  1592-1644. 

(4374.)  It  is  against  reason,  indeed,  that  metals 
should  make  difference  of  men  ;  against  religion 
that  it  should  make  such  a  difference  ol  Christian 
men.  Yet  commonly  reputation  is  measured  by  the 
acre,  and  the  altitude  of  the  countenance  is  taken 
by  the  pole  of  advancement.  — Adams,  1654. 

(4375.)  Gold  and  silver  are  heavy  metals,  and 
sink  down  in  the  balance  ;  yet,  by  a  preposterous 
inversion,  they  lift  the  heart  of  a  man  upwards,  as 
the  plummet  of  a  clock,  which,  while  itself  passeth 
downwards,  lilts  up  the  striking  hammer. 

— Adams,  1654. 

(4376,)  It  is  poor  to  love  a  man  for  that  is  about 
him  :  he  must  be  loved  for  that  is  within  him.  II 
we  should  account  of  men  as  we  do  of  bags,  prize 
therh  that  weigh  heaviest  ;  and  measure  out  our 
love  by  the  sulisidy-book,  honouring  a  man  because 
he  is  well  clothed  ;  I  see  then  no  reason  but  we 
should  do  greater  reverence  to  the  basin  and  ewer 
on  the  stall,  than  to  the  goldsmith  in  the  shop, 
and  most  humbly  salute  satin  and  velvet  in  whole 
pieces,  because  their  virgin-glory  was  never  yet 
ravished  and  abused  into  lashion. 

— Adams,  1654. 

9.  Do  not  necessarily  secure  happiness. 
(4377.)  Many    rich    men    understand    their   own 

riclies  no  more  than  the  oaks  of  the  forest  do  theii 
own  acorns.  — Donne,  1573-1631. 

(4378.)  A  man  diseased  in  body  can  have  little 
joy  of  his  wealth,  be  it  never  so  much.  A  golden 
crown  cannot  cure  the  headache,  nor  a  velvet 
slipper  give  ease  of  the  gout,  nor  a  purple  robe  fray 
away  a  burning  fever.  A  sick  man  is  alike  sick 
wheresoever  you  lay  him,  on  a  bed  of  gold  or  on  a 
pad  of  straw,  with  a  silk  quilt  or  a  sorry  rag  on  him. 
So  no  more  can  riches,  gold  or  silver,  land  and 
livings,  had  a  man  much  more  than  ever  any  man 
had,  minister  unto  him  much  joy — yea,  or  any  true 
or  sound  joy  at  all — where  the  minvi  \f  distract  and 


RICHES. 


(    736    ) 


RICHES. 


discontent  Without  contentment  there  is  no  joy 
of  aught  ;  there  is  no  piorit,  no  pleasure,  in 
anything  — Galaker,  1574-1654. 

(4379.)  As  poverty  and  a  mean  estate  are  never 
without  a  train  of  fretful  sorrows  and  cares,  like- 
wise riches  and  honour  are  never  without  fears  and 
disturbances.  And  as  there  is  no  flame  ever  so 
pure  but  .'■ends  up  a  smoke,  nor  a  rose  so  beautiful 
but  has  its  prickles  ;  so  there  is  no  condition  so 
splendid  or  glorious,  nor  any  prosperity  so  flourish- 
ing, but  has  its  troubles  or  .^harp  thorns.  Every 
man  upon  earth  without  exception  bears  his  cross, 
or  has  a  grievous  thorn  in  his  side.  The  moth 
sticks  to  the  richest  stutTs,  the  worm  gets  into  the 
heart  of  the  fairest  flowers  and  fruits,  and  the 
thunderbolt  strikes  down  the  loftiest  oaks,  the 
highest  steeples,  and  the  most  magnificent  palaces  : 
likewise  care  and  grief  commonly  eat  up  the  flower 
of  the  greatest  prosperities,  and  the  noblest  dignities 
are  often  subject  to  the  strangest  alterations  and  to 
the  most  terrible  downfalls.  The  richest  crowns 
cast  all  their  splendour  and  glory  outwardly,  but  in- 
wardly they  are  felt  to  be  weighty  upon  the  heads 
of  such  as  bear  them.  — Drelincourt,  1666. 

(43S0.)  A  man  who  has  true  benevolence,  and 
has  the  means  of  gratifying  it,  is,  or  may  be,  one 
of  the  most  happy  men  in  the  world.  His  riches 
make  him  happy — and  they  ought  to.  But  when  I 
look  at  rich  men  as  a  class,  1  find  that  they  are  not 
the  happiest  of  men  by  any  means.  They  do  not 
enjoy  home  more  than  other  men,  nor  as  much  as 
other  men. 

I  tell  you,  there  are  two  things  which  go  to  make 
fine  playing  on  a  violin.  The  first  is  a  master's 
hand.  The  second  is  a  good  violin  ;  and  the  quality 
of  the  instrument  is  fully  as  important  as  the  player's 
touch.  If  you  take  a  violin  and  first  break  the 
highest  string,  and  by  and  by  snap  the  next  one, 
and  finally  break  the  next  one,  leaving  the  bass 
string,  and  that  only,  and  that  a  great  deal  the 
worse  for  wear,  Paganini  himself  could  not  bring 
very  much  out  of  that  instrument  except  for  sur- 
prise. Men  take  their  hearts,  which  are  musical 
instruments,  and  snap  this  cord,  and  th.tt,  and  that, 
reducing  themselves  to  one  or  two  points  of  sentient 
enjoyment,  and  then  expect,  because  they  are  rich, 
that  they  shall  be  happy.  What  you  are  in  your- 
self is  to  determine  whether  you  are  ha])py  or  not. 
You  will  not  be  made  happy  by  external  things. 
It  is  inside  that  happiness  lives.  It  is  that  which 
is  fresh  and  fruitful  in  you  that  is  to  make  you 
happy.  I  would  rather  be  a  man  with  a  sanguine 
temperament,  with  average  good  health,  and  in 
moderate  business,  who  sees  everything  on  the 
bright  side,  and  has  a  quiet  hope  of  immortality 
through  Jesus  Christ — 1  would  rather  be  such  a 
man  than  many  a  rich  man.  Inconspicuous  as  he 
is,  and  small  as  his  material  resources  are,  he  will 
shake  more  blossoms  and  more  fruit  off  from  the 
boughs  of  the  tree  of  happiness  in  one  year  than 
you  will,  old  curmudgeon,  probably  in  your  whole 
life.  And  yet  you  and  he  are  living  for  the  same 
general  end— to  be  ha]i]iy.  He  is  hajipy  because 
lie  keeps  strong  and  fresh  those  notes  which  vibrate 
joy  ;  and  you  are  unhappy  because  you  despoil  your- 
self of  all  power  of  enjoyment  for  the  sake  of  that 
arch-deceiver,  riches,  which  glozes,  and  whispers, 
and  promises,  and  betrays  you.  — Beecker. 


10.  Render  It  difficult  for  us  to  discern  onr 

friends. 

(4381.)  The  great  one  bristles  up  himself,  and 
conceits  himself  higher  by  the  head  than  all  the 
rest,  and  is  proud  of  many  friends.  Alas  !  these 
dogs  do  but  hunt  the  bird  of  paradise  for  his 
feathers.  These  wasps  do  but  hover  about  the 
gallipot  because  there  is  honey  in  it.  The  proud 
fly,  sitting  upon  the  chariot  wheel,  which,  hurried 
with  violence,  huff"ed  up  the  sand,  gave  out  that  it 
was  she  which  made  all  that  glorious  dust.  The 
ass,  carrying  the  Egyptian  goddess,  swelled  with 
an  opinion  that  all  those  crouches,  cringes,  and 
obeisances  were  made  to  him.  But  it  is  tlie  case, 
not  the  carcass,  they  gape  for.  So  may  the  chased 
stag  boast  how  many  hounds  he  hath  attending 
him.  They  attend,  indeed,  as  ravens  a  dying  beast. 
Actaeon  found  the  truth  of  their  kind  attendance. 
They  run  away  as  spiders  from  a  decaying  house  ; 
or,  as  the  cuckoo,  they  sing  a  sorry  note  for  a  month 
in  summer,  and  are  gone  in  June  or  July  ;  sure 
enough  before  the  fall.  — Adams,  1654. 

11.  How  little  they  can  do  for  us. 

(4382.)  What  is  there  that  the  rich  man  hopes 
not  to  do?  He  can  buy  honours  and  cffices,  he 
can  buy  out  faults  and  offences;  yea,  foolish  Magus 
thought  the  Ploly  Ghost  Himself  might  be  had  for 
money ;  and  Satan  presumed  that  this  bait  would 
even  catch  the  Son  of  God.  Yet  what  can  riches 
do?  Can  they  put  off"  the  gout,  assuage  grief, 
thrust  out  cares,  suspend  death,  prevent  hell,  01 
bribe  Satan?  A  satin  sleeve  can  as  well  heal  a 
broken  arm.  Indeed  this  they  can  do  ;  they  can 
anger  God,  hurt  men,  bar  the  gates  of  heaven,  open 
the  gates  of  hell,  and  forward  souls  to  confusion. 
They  are  false  friends,  that  will  be  sure  never  to 
fail  men  but  when  they  have  need  of  them.  Sick- 
ness will  besiege  thee,  death  will  summon  thee, 
God  will  pass  11  is  doom  on  thee  :  in  all  this,  what 
can  riches  avail  thee?  our  manifold  receipts  shall 
but  greaten  our  accounts  ;  and  the  moderate  estate 
will  have  the  easier  reckoning.  Riches  are  a  pit 
whereinto  we  soon  slip,  but  can  hardly  scramble 
out.  y^sop  hath  a  fable  of  the  two  frogs  that,  in 
the  time  of  drought,  when  the  marches  were  dry, 
consulted  what  was  best  to  be  done.  One  advised 
to  go  down  into  a  deep  well,  because  it  was  likely 
the  water  would  not  fail  there.  The  other  answeied. 
But  if  it  do  fail,  how  shall  we  get  up  again?  Small 
puddles,  light  gains,  will  not  serve  some  \  they 
must  plunge  into  deep  wells,  ercessive  profits  ;  but 
they  do  not  consider  how  they  should  get  out  again. 
So  it  comes  to  pass  that  either  they  are  famisiied 
for  want  of  grace,  or  drowned  in  a  deluge  of  riches. 
Il  this  world  be  a  sea  over  which  we  must  swiia 
to  the  land  of  promise,  1  do  not  see  what  use  there 
is  of  this  abundant  luggage,  unless  it  be  to  sink  us 
in  the  waters.  — Adams,  1654. 

(4383.)  What  security  is  in  money.  Doth  the 
devil  balk  a  lordly  house  as  if  he  were  afraid  to 
come  in  ?  Dares  he  not  tempt  a  rich  man  to  lewd- 
ness? Let  experience  witness  whether  he  dares  not 
bring  the  highest  gallant  both  to  sin  and  shame. 
Let  his  food  be  never  so  delicate,  he  will  be  a  guest 
at  his  table  ;  and  perhaps  thrust  in  one  dish  to  his 
feast — drunkenness.  lit  his  attendance  never  so 
complete,  yet  Satan  will  wait  on  liim  too.  Wealth 
is  no  charm  to  conjure  away  the  devil ;  such  an  amu- 
let and  the  Pope's  holy  water  are  both  of  a  force. 


RICHES. 


(    737     ) 


RICHES. 


Inward  vexations  foibear  not  their  stinfjs  in  awe 
ol  riches.  An  evil  conscience  dares  perplex  a  Saul 
in  his  throne,  and  a  Judas  with  his  purse  full  of 
money.  Can  a  silken  sleeve  keep  a  broken  arm 
frora  aching?  Then  may  full  barns  keep  an  evil 
conscience  from  vexing.  And  doHi  hell-fire  favour 
the  rich  man's  limbs  more  than  the  poor's?  Ilalh 
he  any  servant  there  to  fan  cold  air  upon  his 
tormented  joints?  Nay,  the  nameless  Dives  goes 
from  soft  linen  to  sheets  of  fire  ;  from  purple  robes 
to  flames  of  the  same  colour,  purple  flames  ;  from 
delicate  morsels  to  want  a  drop  of  water.  Herod, 
thou^di  a  king  on  earth,  when  he  comes  to  tiiat 
smoky  vault  hath  not  a  cushion  to  sit  on,  more  than 
the  meanest  parasite  in  his  court.  So  poor  a  defence 
are  they  for  an  oppressed  soul. 

— Adams,  1654. 

(4384.)  Let  us  consider  the  miseries  which  aflTect 
the  body,  and  we  shall  find  that  the  greatest 
pleasure,  arising  from  any  degree  of  wealth  or 
plenty  whatsoever,  is  so  far  from  reaching  the  soul 
that  it  scarce  pierces  the  skin.  Wliat  would  a  man 
give  to  purchase  a  release,  nay,  but  a  small  respite, 
from  the  extreme  pains  of  the  gout  or  stone  ?  And 
yet  if  he  could  fee  his  physician  with  both  the 
Indies,  neitiier  art  nor  money  can  redeem,  or  but 
reprieve  him  from  his  misery.  No  man  feels  tlie 
pangs  and  tortures  of  his  present  distemper  (be  il 
what  it  will)  at  all  the  less  for  his  being  rich.  His 
riches  indeed  may  have  occasiimed,  but  they  cannot 
allay  them.  No  man's  fever  burns  the  gentler  for 
drinking  his  juleps  in  a  golden  cup.  Nor  could 
Alexander  hinisell,  at  the  price  of  all  his  conquests, 
antidote  1  r  recall  the  poisonous  draught  when  it 
had  once  got  into  his  veins. 

— South,  1633-17 16. 

(4385.)  Heaps  of  silver  and  gold  may  intercept 
the  rich  man's  sight  of  deatii,  but  they  can  neither 
intercept  death's  sight  of  the  rich  man,  nor  prevent 
his  forcing  tiie  feeble  entrenchments  in  wliich  he 
may  attempt  to  hide  himself.  — Saurin. 

(4386.)  Money,  no  doubt,  is  a  power;  but  a 
power  of  well-defined  and  narrow  limits.  It  will 
purchase  plenty,  but  not  peace  ;  it  will  furnish  your 
table  with  luxuries,  but  not  you  with  an  appetite  to 
enjoy  them  ;  it  will  surround  your  sick-bed  witli 
physicians,  but  not  restore  health  to  your  sickly 
frame  ;  it  will  encompass  you  with  a  cloud  of 
flatterers,  but  never  procure  you  one  true  friend  ; 
it  will  bribe  into  silence  the  tongues  of  accusing 
men,  but  not  an  accusing  conscience  ;  it  will  pay 
some  debts,  but  not  the  least  one  of  all,  your  debts 
to  the  law  of  God  ;  it  will  relieve  many  fears,  but 
not  those  of  guilt — the  terrors  that  crown  the  brows 
of  Death.  He  stands  as  grim  and  tenible  by  the 
dying  bed  of  wealth  as  by  the  pallet  of  the  poorest 
beggar  whom  pitiless  riches  has  thrust  from  her 
door  — Guthrie. 

12.  Expose  us  to  the  envy  and  hostility  cf  our 
fellow-men. 

(4387.)  We  hope  wealth  can  stop  the  invasion  of 
these  miseries.  Nothing  less  :  it  lather  mounts  a 
man,  as  a  wrestler  does  his  combatant,  that  it  may 
give  him  the  greater  fall.  — Adams,  1654. 

(43S8.)  So  long  as  malice  and  envy  lodge  in  the 
breasts  of  mankind,  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  in  a 
wealthy,  flourishing  condition  not  to  feel  the  stroke 
of  men's  tongues,  and  of  their  hands,  too,  if  occasion 


serves.  The  fuller  the  branches  are.  the  more  shall 
the  tree  be  flung  at.  What  impeaclied  Naboih  of  trea- 
son and  l)lasphemy  but  his  spacious  vineyard,  too 
convenient  for  his  potent  neighbour  to  let  the  ownc' 
enjoy  it  long?  \Vhat  made  tiie  king  of  Babylon 
invade  Judea,  but  the  royal  stores  and  treasures 
dis]ilayed  and  boasted  of  by  Hezekiah  before  the 
Chaldean  ambassadors,  to  the  supiilanting  of  his 
crown  and  miserable  captivity  of  his  posterity?  In 
Sylla's  bloody  proscription  matters  came  to  that 
pass  in  Rome,  that  if  a  man  had  but  a  lair  garden, 
a  rich  jewel,  or  but  a  ring  of  value,  it  was  enough 
to  get  his  name  posted  up  in  the  cut-throat  roll,  and 
to  cost  him  his  life,  for  having  anytiiing  worth  the 
taking  from  him.  Seldom  do  armies  invade  poor 
day-labouring  countries;  they  are  not  the  thin 
weatherbeaten  cottages,  but  the  opulent  trading 
cities  which  invite  the  plunderer  ;  and  war  goes  on 
but  heavily  where  there  is  no  prospect  of  spoil  to 
enliven  it.  So  that,  whether  we  look  upon  societies 
or  single  persons,  still  we  shall  find  them  both 
owing  this  to  their  great  wealth,  tiiat  it  gives  them 
the  honour  to  be  thought  worth  ruining,  and  a  fit 
prey  for  those  who  shall  think  they  deserve  that 
wealth  better  than  themselves  ;  as,  they  may  be 
sure,  enough  will.  — South,  1633-17 16. 

13.  Are  perilous  to  the  soul. 

(4389.)  As  those  mountains  that  contain  mines 
o!^  gold  and  silver  are  otherwise  barren  :  so  they  that 
have  riches  and  veins  of  gold  and  silver  are,  for  the 
most  part,  in  their  hearts,  made  unprofitable  to  the 
service  of  God  and  man.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(4390.)  Thorns  are  the  shelter  for  ser|5ents,  and 
riches  the  den  of  many  sins.  — Adams,  1654. 

(4391.)  Riches  is  a  warm  nest  where  lust  securely 
sits  to  hatch  all  her  unclean  brood. 

— Adams,  1654. 

{4392.)  Christ  telleth  us  "it  is  easier  for  a  camel 
to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a  rich 
man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  Our 
Saviour,  indeed,  doth  not  speak  of  an  impossibility, 
but  of  the  difficulty  of  it  and  the  rareness  of  it.  Job 
unfolded  the  riddle,  and  got  through  the  needle's 
eye  with  three  thousand  camels.  But  it  is  hard  to 
be  wealthy,  and  not  wanton  :  too  often  are  riches, 
like  bird-lime,  hindering  the  soul  in  its  flight  to- 
wards heaven.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4393-)  To  the  love  of  money  we  trace  the 
melancholy  apostasy  of  Demas,  the  awful  perfidy 
of  Judas,  the  fatal  lie  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira — 
all,  and  some  of  them  distinguished,  professors  o( 
religion.  Be  on  your  guard.  Watch  and  pray. 
Their  history  is  written  for  our  instruction.  Nor 
need  any  of  His  people  who  allow  the  love  of 
money  to  entwine  it^elf  around  their  hearts,  expect 
that  in  saving  them  God  will  do  otherwise  than 
the  woodman  who,  seeking  10  save  a  tree,  applies 
his  knife  to  the  canker  that  eats  into  its  heart,  01 
the  ivy  that  has  climbed  its  trunk  and  is  choking  it 
in  its  close  embraces.  — Guthrie. 

(4394.)  Though,  as  these  cases  prove,  money 
may  be  found  in  the  hand  where  the  love  of  it  ij 
not  eating,  like  a  cancer,  into  the  heart,  there  is 
danger  of  gold  stealing  our  affections  from  God. 
The  larger  and  more  sudden  the  accession  of 
wealth,  the  greater  the  danger, — it  being  with 
riches  as  with  rain.     When  showers  fall  slow  and 

7,  A 


RICHES. 


(    738    ) 


RICHES. 


soft,  they  penetrate  the  soil  nnd  refresh  the  ground 
without  disturbing  it  ;  but,  falling  in  waterspouts, 
desceniling  in  a  deluge  from  the  loaded  air,  they 
fill  the  river  to  the  brim,  and,  bursiing  its  banks, 
carry  havoc  and  destruction  along  their  tumultuous 
course.  — Guthrie. 

(4395-)  A  holy  woman  was  wont  to  say  of  the 
rich — "They  are  hemmed  round  with  no  common 
misery  ;  they  go  down  to  hell  without  thinking  of 
it,  because  their  staircase  thither  is  of  gold  and 
porphyry."  — Spurgeon. 

(4396.)  Many  of  }ou  aie  in  imminent  peril. 
God  is  multiplying  the  sources  of  your  power. 
Your  resources  are  I  scorning  numerous  as  the 
sands  of  the  sea.  I  am  not  sorry  :  I  am  glad  ;  but 
1  am  anxious  that  you  should  rise  up  in  the  midst 
of  these  things,  and  show  yourselves  greater  than 
prosperity,  and  stronger  and  better  on  account  of 
it.  I  dread  to  see  a  man  smoihered  under  his 
wealth. 

When  a  man,  driving  from  the  meadow,  sits  and 
sings  cheerily  upon  his  vast  load  of  fragrant  hay, 
how  every  one,  looking  upon  liim,  thinks  of  his 
happiness  and  content  !  But  by  and  by,  at  an 
unlucky  jog,  tlown  goes  the  wheel,  and  over  j^ocs 
the  loatl,  and  the  marl  is  at  the  bottom  with  all  the 
hay  on  him.  And  now  he  cannot  halloo  so  that 
you  can  hear  him.  And  if  somebody  does  not 
extricate  him  lie  will  be  smothered. 

Just  in  that  way  rich  men  are  in  danger  of  being 
smothered.  The  whole  wain  of  your  prosperity 
may  capsize,  and  the  superincunibt-nt  mass  may 
hide  you  Irom  the  air  and  sun  of  a  true  life. 

— Beecher. 

(4397.)  The  ship  "  Britannia,"  which  struck  on 
the  rocks  off  the  coast  of  Brazil,  had  on  board  a 
large  consignment  of  .Spanish  dollars.  In  the  lio])e 
of  saving  some  of  them,  a  number  of  barrels  were 
brought  on  deck,  but  the  vessel  was  sinking  so  last 
that  the  only  hope  for  life  was  in  taking  at  once  to 
the  boats.  The  last  boat  was  about  to  push  off, 
when  a  midshipman  rushed  back  to  see  if  any  one 
was  still  on  board.  To  his  surprise,  there  sat  a 
man  on  deck  with  a  hatchet  in  his  hand,  with 
which  he  had  broken  open  several  of  the  ca--ks,  the 
contents  of  which  he  was  now  heapmg  up  about 
him. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  shouted  the  youth. 
"Escape  for  your  lile  !  Don't  you  know  the  ship 
is  fast  going  to  pieces?" 

"The  ship  may,"  said  the  man.  "I  have  lived 
a  poor  wreich  all  my  life,  and  1  am  determined  to 
die  rich." 

His  remonstrances  were  answered  only  by  another 
flourish  of  the  hatchet  ;  and  he  was  lelt  to  his  fate. 
In  a  tew  minuies  the  ship  was  engulled  in  the 
waves. 

We  count  such  a  sailor  a  madman  ;  but  he  has 
too  many  imitators.  Many  men  seem  determined 
to  die  rich  at  all  hazards.  Least  of  ail  risks  do 
they  count  the  chance  of  losing  the  soul  in  the 
struggle. 

14.  Often  debase  the  character. 
(439^-)  Nothing  is  so  hard  for  those  who  abound 
in  riches,  as  to  conceive  how  others  can  be  in  want. 
— Swift,  1667-1745. 

(4399- )  See  yonder  lake  1    The  bigger  the  stream 


that  runs  into  it — lying  so  beautiful  and  peaceful  in 
the  bosom  of  the  shaggy  mountains — the  bigger  the 
stream  it  discharges  to  water  the  plains,  and,  like 
the  path  of  a  Christian,  wend  its  bright  and  blissful 
way  on  to  its  parent  sea.  But  in  sad  contrast  with 
that,  the  more  money  some  men  gain,  the  less  they 
give  ;  in  proportion  as  their  weahh  increases,  their 
charities  diminish.  Have  we  not  met  it,  mourned 
over  it,  and  seen  how  a  man,  setting  his  heart  on 
gold,  and  hasting  to  be  rich,  came  to  resemble  a 
vessel  with  a  narrow,  contracted  neck,  out  of  which 
water  flows  less  freely  when  it  is  full  than  «hen  i* 
is  nearly  empty?  As  there  is  a  law  in  physics  to 
explain  that  fact,  there  is  a  law  in  morals  to  explain 
this.  So  long  as  a  man  has  no  hope  of  becoming 
rich  ;  so  long  as  in  enough  of  bread  to  eat,  of  rai- 
ment to  put  on,  of  health  and  strength  to  do  his 
work  and  tight  his  honest  way  on  in  the  world,  he 
has  all  man  really  needs.  Having  tliat,  he  does  not 
set  his  heart  on  riches.  He  is  a  noble,  unselfish, 
generous,  large-hearted,  and,  for  his  circumstances, 
an  open-handed  man.  But  by  success  in  business, 
or  otherwise,  let  a  fortune  come  within  his  reach, 
and  he  clutches  at  it — grasps  it.  Then  what  3 
change  !  His  eye,  and  ear,  and  hand  close  ;  his 
sympathies  grow  dull  and  blunt  ;  his  heart  contracts 
antl  petrifies.  Strange  to  say,  plenty  in  >uch  cases 
feeds  not  poverty  but  penuriousness  ;  and  the  aml)i- 
tion  of  riclies  opens  a  door  to  the  meanest  avarice. 

— Gulhrie. 

15.  The  vanity  of  heaping  up  riches. 

(4400.)  It  is  a  great  deal  of  care  and  pains  that 
the  si>ider  takes  in  weaving  her  web  :  she  runneth 
much,  and  olten  up  and  down  ;  she  fetcheth  a 
compass  this  way  and  that  way  and  returneth 
often  to  the  same  point  ;  she  spendeth  herself  in 
multitudes  of  hne  threads  to  make  her-elf  a  round 
cabinet  ;  she  exenterateth  herself,  and  worketh  out 
her  own  bowels,  to  make  an  artificial  and  curious 
piece  of  work  which,  when  it  is  made,  is  apt  to  be 
blown  away  with  every  puff  of  wind  ;  she  hangeth 
it  up  aloft,  she  fasteneth  it  to  the  roof  of  the  house, 
she  strengtheneth  it  with  many  a  thread,  wlieeling 
often  round  about,  not  sparing  her  own  bowels, 
but  spending  them  willingly  upon  her  work  ;  and 
when  she  hath  done  all  this — spun  her  fine  threads, 
weaved  them  one  within  another,  wrought  herself 
a  hne  canojw,  handed  it  alofi,  and  thinks  all  is  sure 
— on  a  sudden,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  with  a 
little  sweep  of  a  besom  all  (alls  to  the  ground,  and 
so  her  labour  perisheth.  But  here  is  not  all.  Poor 
sjjiiler  !  she  is  killed,  either  in  her  own  web,  or  else 
slie  is  taken  in  her  own  snare,  haled  to  death,  and 
trodden  under  foot.  Thus  the  silly  inject  may  be 
truly  >aid  either  to  weave  her  own  winding  sheet,  or 
to  make  a  snare  to  hang  herself.  Just  so  do  many 
men  wasie  and  consume  themselves  to  get  prefer- 
ment, to  enjoy  pleasures,  to  heap  up  riches,  and 
increase  them  ;  and  to  that  end  they  s]iend  all  their 
wit,  and  oftentimes  the  health  ot  their  bodies, 
running  up  and  down,  labouring  and  sweating, 
carking  and  caring  :  and,  when  they  have  done  all 
this,  they  have  but  weaved  the  spider's  web  to  catch 
flies  ;  yea,  oftentimes  are  caught  in  their  own  nets, 
are  made  instruments  of  their  own  destruction. 
1  hey  lake  a  great  deal  of  pains  with  little  success, 
to  no  end  or  purpose.  — hall,  1574-1656, 

(4401.)  Of  great  riches  there  is  no  real  use,  except 
it  be  in  the  distribution  ;  the  rest  is  but  conceit ;  so 


RICHES, 


(    739     ) 


RICHES. 


saith  Solomon,  "  Where  much  is  there  are  many 
to  consume  it  ;  and  what  hatli  the  owner  but  the 
si<jlu  of  it  with  his  eyes?"  The  personal  fruition  in 
any  man  cannot  reach  to  feel  yreat  riches  :  there  is 
a  custody  of  them,  or  a  power  of  dole  and  donative 
of  them,  or  a  fame  of  them,  but  no  solid  use  to 
the  owner,  — Lord  Bacon,  1560-1626. 

(4402.)  Whosoever  sha'.l  look  heedfully  upon 
those  wlio  are  eminent  foi  their  riches,  will  not 
think  their  condition  such  as  that  he  should  hazard 
his  quiet,  and  much  less  his  virtue,  to  obtain  it. 
For  all  that  great  wealth  generally  gives  above  a 
moderate  fortune  is  more  room  for  the  freaks  of 
caprice,  and  more  privilecje  for  ignorance  and  vice, 
a  quicker  succession  of  llatteries,  and  a  larger  circle 
of  voluptuousness. 

—Dr.  S.  JohnsoHy  1709-1784. 

16.  Their  uncertainty. 

(4403.)  He  that  sees  a  flock  of  birds  sitting  on 
his  giound  cannot  make  himself  any  assurance  that, 
therefore,  they  are  his  own,  and  that  he  may  take 
them  at  his  pleasure.  Thus  he  that  hath  riches, 
and  thinks  himself  fully  possessed  of  them,  mav 
be  deceived,  and  soon  deprived  of  them  ;  a  small 
spark  of  fire  may  set  them  flying,  a  thief  may  steal 
them,  an  unfaithful  servant  may  embezzle  them,  a 
soldier,  a  wreck  at  sea,  a  bad  debtor  at  land  ; 
there's  a  hundred  ways  to  set  them  packing :  they 
have  wings,  and  hop  from  branch  to  branch,  from 
one  man  to  another  ;  seldom  to  him  that  is  the  true 
owner  of  them.  —John  Davenport,  1617. 

(4404.)  They  are  uncertain,  yea  uncertainty 
itself.  Were  our  wealth  tied  to  our  lile,  it  were 
uncertain  enough  :  what  is  that  but  a  flower,  a 
vapour,  a  tale,  a  dream,  a  shadow,  a  thought,  a 
nothin;^?  What  are  great  men  but  like  hail-stones, 
that  leap  up  on  the  tiles,  and  straight  fall  down 
again,  and  lie  still,  and  melt  away?  But  now,  as 
we  are  certain  that  our  riches  determine  with  our 
uncertain  life,  for  goods  and  life  are  both  in  a 
bottom,  both  are  cast  away  at  once ;  so  we  cannot 
be  certam  they  will  hold  so  long :  our  life  flies 
hastily  away  ;  but,  many  times,  our  riches  have 
longer  wings,  and  outHy  it.  It  was  a  witty  obser- 
vation of  liasil,  that  "  wealth  rolls  along  by  a  man, 
lilie  as  an  heady  stream  glides  by  the  banks." 
'I'ime  will  moulder  away  the  very  bank  it  washeth  ; 
but  the  current  stays  not  for  that,  but  speeds  for- 
ward from  one  elbow  of  earth  into  another  :  so 
doth  our  wealth  ;  even  while  we  stay,  it  is  gone. 
In  our  penal  laws  there  are  more  ways  to  forfeit 
our  goods  than  our  lives.  On  our  highways,  how 
many  favourable  thieves  take  the  purse,  and  save 
the  life  I  And,  generally,  our  life  is  the  tree  ;  our 
wealth  is  the  leaves  or  Iruit.  If,  therefore,  life 
and  wealth  strive  which  is  more  uncertain,  wealth 
will  sure  carry  it  away.  Job  was  yesterday  the 
richest  man  in  the  East  ;  to-day  he  is  so  needy  that 
he  is  gone  into  a  proverb,  "As  poor  as  Job." 
Belisarius,  the  great  and  famous  commander  to 
whom  Rome  owed  her  life  twice  at  least,  came 
to  Date  obolum  Belisario ;  "One  halfpenny  to 
Pelisarius."  — Hall,  1574-1656. 

(4405.)  Trust  not  in  riches  ;  they  have  their 
wanes  as  well  as  increases.  They  rise  sometimes 
like  a  torrent  and  flow  m  upon  men ;  but  resemble 


also  a  torrent  in  as  sudden  a  fall  and  departure,  and 
leave  nothing  but  slime  behind  them. 

— Charnock,  1628- 1680. 

(4406.)  ITow  often  have  I  thought  of  riches, 
when,  intruding  on  their  lone  domain,  I  have  seen 
a  covey  of  wild  fowl,  from  the  reeds  of  the  lake  or 
the  heather  of  the  hill-side,  rise  clamorous  on  the 
wing,  and  fly  away  !  Has  not  many  a  man  who 
hasted  to  be  rich,  and  made  gold  his  god,  lived 
to  become  a  bankrupt,  and  die  a  beggar  ! — buried 
among  the  ruins  of  his  ambitious  schemes. 

— Guthrie. 

17.  Must  soon  be  rillnqulshed. 

(4407.)  Saladin,  a  Turkish  emperor,  he  that  first 
of  that  nation  conquered  Jerusalem,  lying  at  the 
point  of  death  after  many  glorious  victories,  com- 
manded that  a  white  sheet  should  be  borne  before 
him  to  his  grave  upon  the  point  of  a  spear,  with 
this  proclamation,  "  These  are  the  rich  spoil? 
which  Saladm  carrieth  away  with  him  of  all  hi> 
triumphs  and  victories.  Of  all  the  riches  and 
realms  that  he  had,  now  nothing  at  all  is  left  but 
this  sheet."  — IVoodnoth. 

(4408.)  When  we  are  bidden  to  a  great  man's 
table,  where  the  meat  is  served  up  in  silver  dishes, 
and  the  wine  in  bowis  of  gold,  we  may  eat  the 
viands,  and  drink  the  precious  liquors ;  but  r 
through  simplicity  we  sliould  offer  to  carry  away 
the  vessels,  the  i>orter  would  stay  us  at  the  gate, 
and  tell  us  plainly  they  are  none  of  ours.  The 
I^ivine  bounty  aflords  the  use  of  riches,  for  the 
comfort  and  sustentalion  of  our  bodies  ;  but  when 
we  rise  up  from  His  table,  and  think  to  bear  away 
the  riches  themselves,  death  is  a  severe  porter  at 
the  gate  of  life  :  he  will  examine  our  going  out ; 
we  shall  carry  none  of  them  with  us, 

— Adams,  1654, 

(4409.)  All  our  pieces  of  gold  are  but  current  to 
the  grave  ;  none  of  them  will  pass  in  the  future 
world.  Therefore  as  merchants  when  they  travel 
make  over  their  monies  here,  to  receive  them  by 
bills  of  exchange  in  another  country  ;  let  us  do 
good  with  our  goods  while  we  live,  that  when  we 
die,  by  a  blessed  bill  of  exchange,  we  may  receive 
them  again  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  (Luke  xvi.  9). 
To  part  with  that  we  cannot  keep,  that  we  may  get 
that  we  cannot  lose,  is  a  good  bargain.  Wealth  can 
do  us  no  good,  unless  it  help  us  toward  heaven, 

— Adams,  1654. 

(4410.)  Jonah  had  a  gourd  that  was  to  him  an 
arbour  :  he  sat  under  it  secure  ;  but  suddenly  there 
was  a  worm  that  bit  it,  and  it  died.  Compare, 
secretly  in  your  hearts,  your  riches  to  that  gourd  ; 
your  pleasure  to  the  greenness  of  it  ;  your  pomp, 
attendance,  vanities,  to  the  leaves  of  it  :  youi 
sudden  increase  of  wealth,  to  the  growing  and 
shooting  up  of  it.  But,  wiihal,  forget  not  the 
worm  and  the  wind.  The  worm  that  shall  kill 
your  root  is  death,  and  the  wind  that  shall  blow 
upon  you  is  calamity,  — Adams,  1654. 

(4411.)  "Be  not  thou  afraid  when  one  is  made 
rich,  when  the  glory  of  iiis  house  is  increased  ;  for 
when  he  dieth  lie  shall  carry  away  nothing:  his 
glory  shall  not  descend  after  him.  '  1  remember 
an  eastern  legend,  which  I  have  always  thought 
furnished  a  remarkable,  though  unconscious  com- 
mentary on  ihcse  words  ol  the  Psalmist.    Alexanaex 


RICHES. 


(    740    ) 


RICHES. 


Ilie  Great,  we  are  there  told,  being  upon  his  death- 
bed commanded  thai,  when  he  was  carried  forth  to 
the  grave,  his  hands  should  not  be  wrapped,  as  was 
usual,  in  the  serecloths,  but  should  be  left  outside 
the  bier,  so  that  all  men  iiiiyht  see  them,  and 
might  see  that  they  were  empty ;  that  there  was 
nothing  in  them ;  that  he,  born  to  one  empire, 
and  the  conqueror  of  anotlier,  the  possessor,  while 
he  lived,  of  two  worlds,  of  the  East,  and  of  the 
West,  and  of  the  treasures  of  both,  yet  now  when 
he  was  dead  could  retain  no  smallest  portion  of 
those  treasures ;  that  in  this  matter  the  poorest 
beggar  and  he  were  at  length  upon  equal  terms. 
This  was  his  comment,  or  the  comment  of  those 
who  may  have  devised  this  legend,  on  the  text  of 
the  Psalmist.  "  He  shall  carry  nothing  away  with 
him,  when  he  dieth  ;  neither  shall  his  pomp  follow 
him."  This  was  his  anticipation  of  the  declara- 
tion of  the  A[iostle,  "  We  brought  nothing  into  the 
world,  and  it  is  certain  we  can  carry  notliing  out." 
And  we  may  here  fitly  ask  with  Solomon,  "  What 
can  the  man  do  that  cmeth  after  the  king?"  If 
it  was  thus  with  that  mightiest  king,  shall  it  not, 
by  much  stronger  reason,  be  thus  with  meaner 
men?  — Irench. 

18.  For  wliat  purpose  they  are  intrusted  to  us. 

(4412.)  God  bids  a  great  and  rich  person  rise 
and  shine,  as  He  bids  the  sun,  that  is,  not  for  him- 
self, but  for  the  necessities  of  the  world  ;  and  none 
is  so  honourable  in  his  own  person  as  he  who  is 
helpful  to  others.  — Souths  1633-1 7 16. 

(4413.)  If  any  man  is  rich  and  powerful,  he  comes 
under  that  law  of  God  by  which  the  higher  branches 
must  take  the  burnings  of  the  sun,  and  shade  those 
that  are  lower  ;  by  which  the  tall  trees  must  pro- 
tect the  weak  plants  beneath  them. 

— Beecher. 

19.  Are  useless  to  many. 

(4414.)  As  musical  instruments  are  of  no  use  to 
him  that  cannot  play  upon  them  :  so  are  riches  un- 
profitable to  him  that  cannot  use  them  rightly. 

—  Cawdray,  1609. 

20.  How  tliey  are  to  be  used. 

(4415.)  "  Ye  are  not  your  own,  and  ye  are  bought 
with  a  price."  For  all  things  are  God's.  When 
then  He  calls,  and  chooses  to  take,  let  us  not,  like 
grudging  servants,  fly  from  the  reckoning,  nor 
purloin  our  Master's  goods.  Thy  soul  is  not  thine, 
and  how  can  thy  wealih  be  thine?  How  is  it,  then, 
that  thou  spendest  on  what  is  unnecessary  the 
things  that  are  not  thine?  Knowest  thou  not  that 
for  this  we  are  soon  to  be  put  on  our  trial,  that  is,  if 
we  have  used  them  badly  ?  But  seeing  that  they  are 
not  ours  but  our  Master's,  it  were  right  to  expend 
them  upon  our  fellow-servants.  li  is  worth  con- 
sidering that  this  was  the  charge  against  that  rich 
man  (Luke  xvi.  2 1),  and  against  those  also  who 
had  not  given  food  to  the  Lord  (Matt.  xxv.  42). 

Say  not,  then,  "  1  am  but  spending  mine  own, and 
of  mine  own  1  live  delicately."  It  is  not  thine  own, 
but  of  other  men's.  Other  men's.  I  say,  because 
such  is  thine  own  choice  ;  for  God's  will  is  that 
tho-e  things  should  be  tliine,  which  have  been 
intrusted  to  thee  on  behalf  of  thy  brethren.  Now 
the  things  which  are  not  thine  own  become  thme, 
if  thou  spend  them  upon  others  ;  but  if  thou  spend 
on  thyself  unsparingly,  thine  own  things  become  no 
longer  thine,     i'or  since  thou  usest  them  cruelly, 


and  sayest,  "  That  my  own  things  should  be  Alto- 
gether spent  on  my  own  enjoyment,  is  fair  :'' 
tlierefore  I  call  them  not  thine  own.  For  they  are 
common  to  thee  and  thy  fellow-servants  ;  just  as 
the  sun  is  common,  the  air,  the  earth,  and  all  the 
rest.  For  as  in  the  case  of  the  body,  each  minis- 
tration belongs  both  to  the  whole  body  and  to 
each  several  member;  but  when  it  is  applied  to  the 
single  member  only,  it  destroys  the  proper  function 
of  that  very  member  I  So  also  it  comes  to  pass  in 
the  case  of  wealth.  And  that  what  1  say  may  be 
made  plainer,  the  food  of  the  botly  which  is  given 
ill  ccininion  to  the  members,  should  it  pass  in'.o  one 
member,  even  to  that  it  turns  out  alien  in  the  end. 
For  when  it  cannot  he  digested,  nor  afford  nourish- 
ment, even  to  that  part,  I  say,  it  turns  out  alien. 
But  if  it  be  made  common,  both  that  part  and  all 
the  rest  have  it  as  their  own. 

So  also  in  regard  of  wealth.  If  you  enjoy  it  alone, 
you  too  have  lost  it ;  for  you  will  not  reap  its 
reward.  But  if  you  possess  it  joint  y  with  the  rest, 
then  it  will  be  more  your  own,  and  then  you  reap 
the  benefit  of  it.  Seest  thou  not  that  the  hands 
minister,  and  the  mouth  softens,  and  the  stomach 
receives?  Does  the  stomach  say,  "Since  1  have 
received,  I  ought  to  keep  it  all  ?"  Then  do  not  thou, 
I  pray,  in  regard  to  riches,  use  this  language.  For 
it  belongs  to  the  receiver  to  impart.  As  then  it  is 
a  vice  in  the  stomach  to  retain  the  food  and  not  to 
distribute  it  (for  it  is  injurious  to  the  whole  body), 
so  it  is  a  vice  in  those  that  are  rich  to  keep  to  them- 
selves what  I  hey  have.  For  this  destroys  both 
themselves  and  others. 

Again,  the  eye  receives  all  the  light ;  but  it  does 
not  itself  alone  retain  it,  but  enligliiens  the  entire 
body.  For  it  is  not  its  nature  to  keep  it  to  itself, 
so  long  as  it  is  an  eye.  Again,  the  nostrils  are 
sensitive  of  perfume;  but  they  do  not  keep  it  all  to 
themselves,  but  transmit  it  to  the  brain,  and  affect 
the  stomach  with  a  sweet  savour,  and  by  their 
means  refresh  the  whole  man.  The  feet  alone  walk; 
but  they  move  not  themselves  only,  but  transfer  also 
the  whole  body.  In  like  manner  tlo  thou,  whatso- 
ever thou  hast  been  intrusteil  withal,  keep  it  not  to 
thyself  alone,  since  thou  art  doing  harm  to  the  whole, 
and  to  thyself  more  than  all. 

And  not  in  the  case  of  the  Umbs  only  may  w« 
see  this  occurring.  For  the  smith  also,  if  he  chose 
to  impart  of  his  craft  to  no  one,  ruins  both  himself 
and  all  other  craft.  Likewise  the  cordwainer,  the 
husbandman,  the  baker,  and  every  one  of  those 
who  pursue  any  mercenary  calling  ;  if  he  chose  not 
to  communicate  to  any  one  of  the  results  of  his  arts, 
will  ruin,  not  the  others  only,  but  himself  also  with 
them. 

In  everything  to  give  and  receive  is  the  principle 
of  numerous  blessings :  in  seeds,  in  scholars,  in 
arts.  For  if  any  one  desire  to  keej)  his  art  to  him- 
self, he  subverts  both  himself  and  the  whole  course 
of  things.  And  the  husbandman,  if  he  bury  and 
keep  the  seeds  in  his  hojse,  will  bring  about  a 
grievous  famine.  So  also  the  rich  man,  if  he  fails 
thus  in  regard  of  his  wealth,  will  destroy  himself 
before  the  poor,  heaping  up  the  fire  of  hell  more 
giievous  upon  his  own  head. 

Therefore,  as  teachers,  however  mary  scholars 
they  have,  impart  some  of  their  love  unto  each  :  so 
let  thy  possession  be  —  many  to  whom  thou  hast 
done  good.  — Chrysostom,  347-407. 

(4416.)  As  the  moon  doth  show  her  light  to  the 


RICHES. 


(    741     ) 


SELF-EX  A  MINA  TION. 


World  which  she  receiveth  from  the  sun  :  so  we 
ouijlit  to  bestow  the  beiietlts  received  of  God  to 
the  profit  and  commodity  (advantage)  of  our  neigh- 
bour. — Cawiiray,  1 609. 

(4417.)  When  a  man  taketh  a  heavy  trunk,  full 
of  piate  or  money,  upon  his  shoulders,  it  niaketh 
him  stoop,  and  boweth  him  towards  the  ground  ; 
but  if  the  same  weight  be  put  under  his  feet,  it 
lifieth  him  up  from  the  ground.  In  like  manner, 
if  we  put  our  wealth  and  riches  above  us,  preferring 
them  to  our  salvation,  they  will  press  us  down  to 
the  ground,  if  not  to  hell  with  their  very  weight ; 
but  il  we  put  them  under  our  feet,  and  uead  upon 
them  as  slaves  and  vassals  to  us,  and  quite  contemn 
them  in  respect  of  heavenly  treasure,  they  will  raise 
us  up  towards  heaven.     — Thomas  lay  lor,  1631. 

(4418.)  Look  but  upon  a  fly  coming  to  a  platter 
full  ol  sweet  and  pleasant  honey  :  if  slie  thrust  not 
herself  altogether  into  it,  but  only  touch  and  taste 
it  with  her  mouth,  and  take  no  more  than  is  need- 
ful, she  may  safely  take  wing  and  fly  to  another 
{)lace  ;  but  if  she  wallow  in  the  honey,  then  is  she 
imed  in  it,  she  is  not  able  to  fly  away,  she  doth 
there  lose  her  life.  Thus,  if  a  man  take  only  so 
much  of  his  riches  as  may  maintain  his  estate, 
bestowing  the  rest  in  a  Christian  manner,  then 
they  cannot  hold  him  back  or  bar  him  from  llie 
kingdom  of  heaven  :  but  if  covetousness  shall 
bewitch  him,  and  prick  hin,  to  scrape  and  rake 
together  more  and  more,  then  he  shall  never  be 
satisfied,  but  lall  into  many  snares  and  temptations. 

— Pint  us. 

(4419.)  Let  us  make  the  poor  our  friends  by 
our  alms,  not  our  enemies  by  our  scoins.  We  had 
better  have  the  ears  of  God  full  of  their  juayers, 
than  heaps  of  money  in  our  own  coffers  with  their 
curses.  Worldly  men  think  themselves  wise  in 
getting  wealth,  and  the  i^criptures  folly  ;  therefore 
throughout  the  Scriptures  God  calls  them  fools  for 
their  labour  :  "Thou  fool."  There  is  a  tale  of  an 
abbot  who  gave  his  fool  a  painted  staff,  willing 
him  to  bestow  it  on  tiie  veriest  fool  he  could  meet. 
This  abbot  fell  mortally  sick  ;  the  fool  was  a  visi- 
tant among  the  rest;  and  hearing  him  say,  I  must 
leave  all  and  be  gone,  asked  him  whither  he  would 
go.  The  abbot  answers,  Into  ansJier  country. 
But  I  hope,  rejilies  the  fuol,  you  will  carry  all  your 
gold,  and  jewels,  and  treasure  with  you.  No,  1 
must  leave  all.  But  sure  you  have  sent  great  store 
of  preparation,  as  rich  hangings,  coverings,  beds, 
plate,  and  furniture  before  you.  No,  1  must  leave 
ail  behind.  All  ?  I  hope  at  least  you  have  sent 
enough  to  furnish  your  own  room,  provision  enough 
for  yourself.  No,  not  the  least  pillow.  Hold, 
saith  he,  take  your  staff  again,  you  are  the  veriest 
fool  that  ever  I  met.  — Adams,  1654. 

(4420.)  As  bodies  inclined  to  be  fat  had  need  of 
most  exercise  :  so  men  that  have  the  world  coining 
too  fast  upon  them,  and  are  in  great  danger  to  be 
rich,  should  be  most  busy  in  the  works  of  chaiity. 

— Adams,  1654. 

(4421.)  If  thou  art  rich,  then  show  the  greatness 
of  thy  fortune,  or,  what  is  better,  the  greatness  of 
thy  soul  in  the  meekness  ol  thy  conversation  ;  con- 
descend tomenol  low  estate,  support  the  distressed, 
and  patronise  the  neglected.  Be  great  :  but  let  it 
be  in  considering  riches  ^s  they  are,  as  talents 
fiommiited  to  an  earthen  vessel ;  thai   ihou  art  but 


the  receiver,  and  that  to  be  obliged  and  to  be  vam 
too  is  but  the  old  solecism  of  pride  and  beggary, 
which,  though  they  often  meet,  yet  ever  make  but 
an  absurd  society.  —Sterne,  1713-1768. 

21.  Are  worthless  without  godliness. 

(4422.)  Godliness  may  do  a  man  good  without 
gain,  but  worldly  gain  can  do  a  man  no  good 
without  godliness.  As  the  heathen  orator  says  of 
bodily  might,  that  strength  of  body  jt)ined  with 
discretion  and  wisdom  may  do  a  man  nmch  good  ; 
but  without  it,  it  is  but  as  a  sword  in  a  child  or  a 
man's  hand,  rather  a  means  to  mischief  a  man's 
self  than  otherwise;  as  we  see  an  example  in 
Milo  Crotoniates,  the  strongest  man  of  his  time, 
who  unwarily  assaying  on  trust  of  his  strength  to 
rive  a  piece  of  timber  with  his  hands,  wliich  some 
others  with  wedge  and  beetle  could  not  cleave,  was 
caught  fast  by  the  fists,  and  so  devoured  by  wolves. 
So  riches,  joined  with  godliness  and  good  con- 
science, are  the  good  blessings  of  God,  a  means  of 
gootl  to  ourselves,  and  of  doing  good  unto  others  ; 
but  being  severed  from  godliness  and  the  true  fear 
of  God  are  rather  occasion  of  evil  than  otherwise, 
rather  an  instrument  of  vice  than  any  furtherance 
to  virtue,  a  means  to  make  as  our  sins  the  greater 
here,  so  our  condemnation  accordingly  the  more 
grievous  hereaUer.  — (Jataker,  1574-1654. 


SELF-EXAMINATION. 

I.  ITS  RARITY. 

(4423.)  Easy  and  ordinary  is  it  for  men  to  be 
others'  physicians,  rather  than  their  own  ;  states- 
men in  foreign  conmionwealths,  not  looking  into 
their  own  doors  ;  scjmetimes  putting  on  Aaron's 
robes,  and  teaching  him  to  teach  :  and  olten  scald- 
ing their  li|.s  in  their  neighbours'  pottage.  They 
can  weed  others'  gardens,  whiles  their  own  is  over- 
run with  nettles  ;  like  that  soldier  that  digged  a 
fountain  for  Caesar,  and  perished  himsell  in  a 
voluntary  thirst.  But  charity  begins  at  home  ;  and 
he  that  loves  not  his  own  soul,  I  will  hardly  trust 
him  with  mine.  The  usurer  blames  his  son's  pride, 
sees  not  his  own  extortion  ;  and  whiles  the  hypo- 
crite is  hel|)iiig  the  dissolute  out  of  the  mire,  he 
sticks  in  deeper  himself.  The  Pharisees  are  on  the 
disciples'  jacket  for  eating  with  unwashen  hands, 
whiles  themselves  are  not  blameworthy  that  eat 
with  unwashen  heait's.  No  marvel  if,  when  we  fix 
both  our  e\es  on  others'  wants,  we  lack  a  third  to 
see  our  own.  If  two  blind  men  rush  one  upon 
another  in  the  way,  either  complains  of  othei's 
blindness,  neither  of  his  own.  Thus,  like  mannerly 
guests,  when  a  good  morsel  is  carved  us,  we  lay  it 
liberally  on  another's  trencher,  and  fast  ourselves. 
How  much  better  were  it  lor  us  to  leed  on  our  own 
portion  !  — Adams,  1654. 

II.  ll'HY  IT  IS   NECESSARY. 

1.  Because  we  are  naturally  averse  to  it. 

(4424.)  The  sovereign  excellency  and  necessity 
of  this  duty  needs  no  other  nor  greater  jiroof  oi  it 
than  this  one  consideration,  that  nothing  in  nature 
can  be  more  grievous  and  ofiensive  to  a  sinner 
than  to  look  into  himself;  and  generally  what 
grace  requires  nature  is  most  averse  to.  It  is 
indeed  as  offensive  as  to  rake  into  a  dunghili ;  as 
grievous  as  for  one  to  read  over  his  debts,  when 
he  is  not  able  to  pay  them ;  or  for  a  bankn  pt  to 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    742    ) 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


examine  and  look  into  his  accounts,  which  at  the 
same  time  tliat  they  acquaint  must  needs  also  up- 
braid him  with  his  condition. 

But  as  iiksome  as  the  work  is  it  is  absolutely 
necessary.  Notliin^  can  well  be  imas^ined  more 
f)ainful  than  to  probe  and  search  a  purulent  old 
sore  to  the  bottom  ;  but  for  all  that  the  pain  must 
be  endured,  or  no  cure  expected. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

2,  That  we  may  know  if  we  are  In  the  right  way. 

(4425.)  Another  reason  that  should  move  you  to 
examine  whether  you  be  indeed  converted  or  not, 
is  because  the  want  of  this  is  one  of  ihe  greatest 
causes  why  so  few  come  to  be  converted  and  to  be 
saved.  Nothing  doth  more  keep  a  man  from  turn- 
ing back  again,  when  lie  hath  lost  his  way,  than 
when  he  doth  not  know  that  he  hath  lost  it  :  and 
how  can  he  know,  ihat  wandereth  in  the  night, 
and  will  not  inquire  and  ask  the  way,  or  that  is  so 
wilful  and  self-conceited  that  he  will  not  believe 
any  man  that  telleth  liim  he  liath  lost  his  way?  As 
long  as  he  is  of  this  mind  he  will  never  turn  again. 
So  is  it  \\  iih  most  of  the  careless  world  :  they  are 
going  into  the  way  of  worklliness  or  vainglory,  and 
live  to  the  flesh,  wliich  is  clean  contrary  to  the  way 
to  heaven,  and  yet  they  will  not  seriously  ask  a 
minister,  or  ask  any  one  that  can  inform  them, 
whether  that  be  the  way  or  not?  or  whetlier  they 
shall  ever  come  to  heaven  in  that  way?  But  they 
trudge  on  after  their  fleshly  business,  as  if  they  had 
no  tongue  in  their  heads  ;  or  as  if  it  were  not  worth 
the  asking,  to  know  whetlier  they  are  in  the  way  to 
heaven  or  hell.  Surely,  if  men  will  not  so  much  as 
inquire,  or  consider  with  themselves,  and  examine 
their  way  by  the  Word  of  God,  to  see  wliether  they 
are  right  or  wrong,  they  are  never  like  to  lie  saved. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

3.  That  we  may  ascertain  if  our  graces  are  real 
and  our  hope  well-founded. 

(4426.)  Must  the  soul's  armour  be  of  God's 
make?  then  look  narrowly  whether  the  armour  ye 
wear  be  the  workmanship  of  God  or  no.  Many 
are  like  children  that  cry  for  a  knife  or  dagger,  and 
are  pleased  as  well  with  a  bone  knife  or  wooden 
dagger  as  with  the  best  of  all  ;  so  they  have 
armour  it  matters  not  what.  Pray  they  must,  but 
little  care  how  it  is  performed.  Believe  in  God  ! 
yes,  they  hope  tliey  are  not  infidels  ;  but  whnt  their 
faith  is,  how  they  came  by  it,  or  whether  it  will 
hold  in  an  evil  day,  this  tiiey  never  question. 

— Guniall,  1617-1679. 

(4427.)  If  you  die  in  your  sins,  you  will  rise  in 
your  sins,  and  stand  at  the  tribunal  of  God  in  your 
sins;  you  can  never  receive  remission  of  tiie  guilt 
of  sin,  nor  redemption  from  the  power  of  sin,  so 
long  as  you  have  noi  received  Chiist  ;  and  therefore 
reflect  solemnly  upon  this  matter,  man,  wliether  you 
have  received  Christ  or  not.  1.  all  tliat  yim  are 
worth  in  the  world  lay  in  one  precious  stone,  and 
that  stone  was  to  be  tried  by  a  skilful  jeweller 
whether  it  were  true  or  false,  surely  your  thoughts 
could  not  be  unconcerned  about  the  issue  of  such  a 
trial.  Why,  man,  woman,  all  that  you  are  worth 
in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to  come  depends 
upon  the  truth  of  your  faith,  which  now  we  call  you 
to  try,  whetlier  it  will  fly  or  eniiure  the  trying  stroke 
of  the  hammer  of  God's  Word.  Have  you  no  con- 
cern in  tliis  matter?     'Vou  would  be  loath  to  put  to 


sea,  though  it  were  but  to  cross  a  short  ferry,  in  a 
rotten,  leaky  bottom  ;  and  will  you  dare  to  venturs 
into  the  ocean  of  eternity  in  a  false,  rotten  faith? 
— Krsktnc,  16S5-1752. 

(4428.)  There  is  an  obvious  propriety  for  honest 
self-examination.  The  necessity  of  this  is  urged 
upon  us  all  by  the  worth  of  the  undying  soul  ;  by 
all  the  value  of  the  blood  of  Christ;  by  all  the 
apprehensions  of  a  dreadful  hell.  On  this  of  all 
subjects  we  should  be  most  honest  with  ourselves  ; 
ami  yet  on  this  of  all  subjects  we  are  prone  to  take 
up  with  slightest  evidences.  The  solicitude  of  the 
meicliant  to  save  his  aflairs  from  bankruptcy  is 
untiring  ;  the  advocate  toils  to  gain  his  cause,  and 
the  [ihysician  to  save  his  patient  ;  the  farmer  has 
no  rest  till  the  title  to  his  land  is  without  a  flaw. 
^'et  that  merchant,  perhaps,  will  feel  no  solicitude 
that  his  eternal  interests  may  not  be  bankrupt; 
nor  that  professional  man  feel  any  concern  that  he 
is  in  danger  of  losing  his  soul,  nor  the  larmer  that 
his  title  to  heaven  is  insecure  On  the  very  point 
where  we  siiould  sujipose  there  would  be  most 
interest  felt,  there  is  often  the  least  ;  and  the  last 
thing  to  which  immortal  man,  in  the  cluuch  or  out 
of  it,  can  be  roused,  is  the  worth  of  his  own  soul. 

Were  it  thus  in  oilier  cases  we  should  be  im- 
pressed with  the  folly.  Let  a  man  be  seized  with 
disease,  though  not  immediately  alarming,  and  let 
it  be  suffered  to  run  on  without  care  or  anxiety 
until  death  shall  lay  its  cold  hand  on  him,  and  we 
do  not  doubi  its  folly.  Vet  how  many  are  under 
the  influence  of  sin  who  allow  tliemselves  to  be 
deceived,  who  listen  to  no  language  of  entreaty 
to  examine  ;  ami  who  will  soon  find  that  their 
hopes  of  heaven  have  been  founded  on  the  sand  ! 
Once  more  I  may  be  perinitted,  not  in  form,  but 
in  the  soberness  of  sincerity  and  in  love,  to  entreat 
you  to  be  willing  to  know  the  worst  of  the  case. 
If  deceived,  be  willing  to  know  it,  and  to  seek 
mercy  before  it  shall  be  too  late.  If  we  are 
Christians,  let  us  know  it,  and  let  our  lives  testify 
accordingly.  — Barnes,  1798-1870. 

4.  That  we  may  a:;sertain  the  hindrances  to  ouz 
reception  of  grace. 

(4429.)  They  who  have  water  running  home  in 
conduit  pipes  to  their  houses,  as  soon  as  they  find 
a  want  ol  that  which  their  neighbours  have  in 
abundance  by  and  by  they  search  into  the  cause, 
run  to  the  conduit  head,  or  take  up  the  pipes,  to  see 
where  they  may  be  stopped,  or  wiiat  is  the  defect, 
that  so  they  be  supplied  accordingly.  Even  so 
must  every  man  do  when  he  finds  that  the  grace 
of  repentance  flows  into  other  men's  hearts  and  has 
no  recourse  or  access  to  his  suul  ;  by  and  by  sit 
down  and  search  himself,  what  tlie  cause  should  be, 
where  the  remora  is  that  stays  his  course,  where 
the  rub  lies  which  stops  the  grace  of  repentance  in 
him  ;  seeing  they  that  live  (it  may  be)  in  the  same 
house,  sit  at  the  same  table,  lie  in  the  same  bed, 
can  be  penitent  for  their  sins,  sorry  that  they  liave 
offended  God,  and  so  complain  in  bitterness  of  soul 
for  their  sins;  but  he  that  had  the  same  means,  the 
same  occasions,  more  sins  to  be  humbleil  lor,  more 
time  to  repent  in,  an(i  more  motives  to  draw  him  to 
the  duty,  is  not  yet  moved  with  the  same,  not  any 
way  affected  with  the  sense  of  sin  ;  this  must  need.' 
be  matter  of  high  concernment  to  look  about  him. 
—Kogers,  15(^-1660. 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    743    ) 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


6.  That  we  may  be  saved  from  splrltval  bank- 
ruptcy. 

(4430.)  Was  there  ever  a  successful  merchant 
who  did  not  balance  his  books  year  by  year?  I 
have  noticed,  in  reading  the  details  of  courts  of 
bankruptcy,  that  frtunes  are  as  surely  wrecked  by 
indolence  or  caielessne.-s,  as  by  wild  speculations, 
or  boundless  extravagance.  Here  is  a  tiader,  bank- 
rupt. Sober,  honest,  industrious,  anxious  to  pay 
every  one  their  own,  not  living  in  si>Ienilour  at 
other  men's  expense,  he  should  have  thriven.  Yet 
this  honest  man  has  to  take  a  place  be.side  rogues 
— he,  and  others,  throwing  all  the  blame  on  fortune  ; 
imputing  his  misfortunes  to  the  bliml  goddess,  her 
capricious  temper  and  unsteady  wheel.  Hut  the 
examination  comes,  like  that  day  of  a  greater  judg- 
ment winch  shall  reveal  the  true  and  unsuspected 
causes  that  have  wrought  tlie  ruin  of  many  souls. 
The  debtor's  books  are  produced  ;  and  now  it 
ap4)ears  that  last  year,  and  the  year  before,  and  for 
many  years,  there  has  been  no  balance  struck. 
Fancying  that  all  was  right,  too  careless  to  think  of 
it,  too  busy  to  spare  time  for  taking  stock,  or  too 
indolent  to  go  through  its  irksome  labour,  from  year 
to  year  he  has  put  off  sir  king  a  balance,  till  now 
he  strikes  on  the  rock  ahead.  The  crash  comes. 
lie  opens  \rn  eyes  on  ruin  ;  and  finds,  too  late, 
that  for  years  he  has  been  driving  a  losing  trade. 
He  is  a  bankrupt  for  want  of  a  balance.  And  the 
general  practice  of  men  of  business,  their  custom 
of  year  by  year  taking  stock,  examining  their  books 
and  striking  a  balance  to  know  how  they  stantl, 
is  a  lesson  of  the  highest  value.  Our  everlaNting 
salvation  may  turn  on  it.  People  go  on  dreaming 
that  all  is  right  when  all  is  wrong  ;  nor  wake  to  the 
dreadful  truth  till  they  open  their  eyes  in  torment. 
What  pains  ought  we  to  lake  to  avoid  the  remotest 
chance  ol  such  a  calamity  !  If  men  take  such  care 
of  their  earthly  fortunes,  how  much  greater  our 
need  to  see  how  we  stand  with  God  ;  and  do  with 
our  spiritual  what  all  wise  merchants  do  with  their 
earthly  interests — review  the  transactions  of  every 
year !  Let  us  judge  ourselves  that  we  be  not 
judged  ;  and,  holding  a  court  of  conscience,  in  the 
words  of  the  text,  "  Look  on  all  the  things  that  my 
hands  have  wrought,  and  on  the  labours  that  I  have 
laboured  to  do."  — Guihrie. 

(4431.)  Every  man  should  use  his  understanding 
to  discover  the  true  character  of  his  actual  course 
of  life.  If,  when  a  tradesman  finds  his  way  into 
the  bankruptcy  court,  it  conies  out  that  for  years 
he  has  never  taken  stock,  or  has  taken  it  carelessly, 
he  is  very  severely  censured,  and  most  justly. 
Every  sensible  man  of  business  spends  several  days 
every  year  in  learning  his  financial  ])osiiion.  and 
the  result  of  the  trade  ol  the  previous  twelvemonth. 
He  weigiis,  he  measures  all  his  goods.  He  allows 
for  the  ilctcrioration  of  stock  and  for  the  wear  and 
tear  of  his  premi-es.  He  reckons  up  his  bad  delits  ; 
he  forms  a  rough  estimate  of  the  debts  likely  to 
prove  bad.  He  works  niglit  and  day.  He  is  rest- 
lessly anxious  to  see  liow  the  balance-sheet  will 
show.  He  u>es  his  understanding  to  learn  whether 
his  business  is  working  profilably.  Would  it  not 
be  possiijle,  is  it  not  necessary,  to  have  an  examina- 
tion equally  rigorous  into  the  moral  character  of 
all  his  transactions?  If  he  is  an  honest  man  — 
above  all,  if  he  is  a  Christian  man — he  will  think 
that  by  (ar  the  uujst  important  thing.  But  is  there 
any   neo^sity   for    such    a    serious    and  elaborate 


inquiry?  There  is.  If  a  tradesman  does  not  get 
out  an  accurate  balance-sheet  every  year,  he  may 
be  going  wrong  financially  without  knowing  it;  his 
trade  expenses  may  be  eating  up  all  his  prulit  ;  he 
may  be  paying  too  heavy  a  rent  ;  spending  too 
much  on  his  premises;  employing  too  many 
hands  ;  people  he  trusts  may  be  robbing  him  ;  he 
may  seem  to  have  a  flourishing  business,  and  yet 
may  be  getting  into  a  worse  condition  every 
Christmas.  I  believe  that  many  men,  Irom  never 
investigating  the  moral  character  of  what  they  a/e 
doing,  get  wrong  morally  without  knowing  it. 

—A'.  W.  Dale. 

6.  That  we  may  spare  ourselves  after-regrets. 
(4432  )   What  a  deal   of  sorrow  and   after-com- 

plaiiiing  might  this  small  labour  prevent!  How 
many  miles  travel,  besides  the  vexation,  may  a 
traveller  save  by  inquiring  of  the  way  ! 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

7.  Because  our  hearts  are  so  apt  to  deceive  us, 

(4433.)  "  The  heart  is  a  grand  impostor."  It  is 
like  a  cheating  trade--nian,  which  will  put  one  ofl 
with  bad  wares  ;  the  heart  will  put  a  man  off  with 
seeming  grace,  instead  of  saving.  A  tear  or  two 
shed  is  repentance,  a  few  lazy  desires  is  faith  ;  blue 
and  red  flowers  that  grow  among  the  corn  look 
like  good  flowers,  but  they  are  but  beauti.ul  weeds 
The  foolish  virgins'  lamps  looked  as  if  they  had 
had  oil  in  them,  but  they  had  none.  Therefore  to 
prevent  a  cheat,  that  we  may  not  take  false  gracfl 
instead  of  true,  we  had  need  make  a  thorough  dis- 
quisition and  search  of  our  hearts. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(4434.)  How  shall  we  bring  home  to  ourselves 
the  dangerousness  of  trusting,  without  due  examina- 
tion, to  the  verdict  of  our  own  hearts  ?  We  will 
do  so  by  supposing  a  parallel  case  in  a  matter, 
where  we  are  all  peculiarly  apt  to  be  cautious  and 
suspicious, — the  goods  of  this  world. 

Suppose  then  (and  in  a  commercial  country  like 
this  tiie  supposition  has  not  been  unfrequently 
realised)  that  the  cliief  agent  in  some  great  specula- 
tion is  a  man  who,  though  most  untrustwortliy,  has 
all  the  an  of  conciliating  trust.  Suppose  him  to  be 
fluent,  fair-spoken,  prepo-sessing  in  manners  and 
api  earance,  and  to  be  especially  plausible  in  glossing 
over  a  financial  dififrculty.  Advance  one  more  step 
in  the  hypothesis  and  suppose  him  to  be  a  private 
friend  of  many  of  those  who  are  embarked  with  iiim 
in  the  siieculatioij ;  allied  to  some  of  them  by 
marriage,  and  more  or  less  in  habits  of  intimacy 
with  all.  If  such  a  person  is  at  the  head  of  affairs, 
and  intrusted  with  the  administration  of  the  funds 
contributed  by  all,  it  is  evident  that  he  might 
impose  upon  the  contributors  to  almost  any  extent. 
His  artful  representations  would  quiet  their  little 
panics,  when  such  arose  ;  and  he  would  have  it  in 
ins  power  to  keep  them  still  while  embezzling 
their  resources,  until  the  great  crash  comes,  which 
announces  to  many  of  them,  as  with  a  clap  of 
thunder,  that  they  are  bankru[)ts. 

Now  the  peril  of  such  trust  in  worldly  matters 
supplies  a  very  fair  image  of  the  peril  of  a  still  more 
foo.ish  and  groundless  trust  in  spiritual  things. 
Our  hearts  are  notoriously  most  untiust worthy 
informants  in  any  case  where  we  are  ourselves 
interested.  It  is  not  only  Scripture  which  asserts 
this.      We  confess  it    ourseWes,  and   re-echo   the 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    744    ) 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


verdict  of  Scripture,  when  we  say  of  any  slight 
maiter  with  which  we  hajjpen  to  be  mixed  up,  "I 
am  an  interested  party,  and  therefore  I  had  better 
not  be  a  judge."  But  while  our  hearts  are  thus, 
by  our  own  confession,  untrustworthy,  there  is  no 
one  in  whose  assertions  we  habitually  place  more 
trust.  We  think  we  cannot  be  deceived  respecting 
ourselves  ;  we  know  at  all  events  our  own  motives 
and  intentions,  if  we  know  anything.  The  unkind, 
the  insincere,  the  ungenerous,  the  ungrateful,  never, 
we  think,  had  any  affinity  with  our  nature.  Faults 
there  may  have  been,  no  doubt,  in  our  temper  and 
our  conduct — feelings  and  transactions,  too — for 
which  we  feel  that  we  are  in  account  with  God  ; 
but  we  have  our  own  heart  to  manage  and  super- 
intend the  account  ;  and  it  soothes  us  with  the 
assurance  that  we  never  had  any  very  bad  intention, 
and  so  the  whole  affair  will  turn  out  well  in  the  end, 
—we  need  not  fear  the  ultimate  exposure.  Self- 
love  conspires  with  trust  in  our  own  hearts  to  make 
dupes  of  us  as  regards  our  spiritual  account.  Pro- 
verbially, and  in  the  verdict  of  all  experience,  love 
is  blind  ;  and  if  love  be  blind,  self-love  being  the 
strongest,  the  most  subtle,  the  most  changeless,  the 
most  ineradicable  of  all  loves,  is  blinder  still.  Self- 
love  will  not  see,  as  self-trust  cannot  see,  anything 
against  us.  With  these  strong  partialities  to  self  in 
our  own  heart  ever  operative  within  us,  and  never 
probably  capable,  even  in  the  best  men,  of  being 
entirely  detached  from  us,  to  what  an  extent  may 
we  be  imposed  upon,  in  that  which  most  viialiy  and 
nearly  concerns  us,  if  we  do  not  from  time  to  time 
call  in  and  examine  the  accounts  !  What  frightful 
arrears  may  we  be  running  up,  unawares  to  ourselves, 
if  we  do  not  sharply  check  and  suspiciously  watch 
this  heart,  who  administers  for  us  the  account 
between  us  and  God  !  And  how  may  these  accu- 
mulated arrears  of  guilt  burst  upon  our  minds  with 
an  overwhelming  force  when  God  judges  the  secrets 
of  men  by  Jesus  Christ  according  to  the  Gospel, — 
when  the  divine  sentence  unmasks  our  sin  of  those 
excuses  with  which  we  have  been  palliating  it,  and 
brings  it  home  to  us  with  a  "  Thou  art  the  man  ! " 

—  Goulburn. 

8.  Because  there  are  so  many  unsuspected  in- 
fluences that  tend  to  cause  us  to  go  astray. 

(4435.)  A  sailor  remarks  : — "  Sailing  from  Cuba, 
we  thought  we  had  gained  sixty  miles  one  day  in 
our  course  ;  but  at  the  next  observation  we  found 
we  had  lost  more  than  thirty.  It  was  an  under- 
current. The  ship  had  been  going  forward  by  the 
wind,  Vjut  going  back  by  a  current."  So  a  man's 
course  may  often  seem  to  be  right,  but  the  stream 
beneath  is  driving  him  the  very  contrary  way  to 
what  he  thinks.  — Cheever. 

9.  Because  the  tendency  of  evil  is  to  increase. 

(4436.)  Take  heed  of  the  first  decays,  and  look 
often  into  the  state  of  your  hearts.  A  man  that 
never  casts  up  his  state  is  undone  insensibly ; 
therefore  look  often  into  the  state  of  your  hearts, 
whether  you  go  *brvvavd,  in  the  power  of  holiness, 
or  whether  you  go  backward. 

It  is  the  devil's  policy,  when  once  we  are  de- 
clining, to  humble  us  further  and  further  still,  as  a 
stone  that  runs  down  the  hill ;  therefore  take  heed 
to  the  tast  declinings. 

A  gap  once  made  in  the  conscience  grows  wider 
and  wider  every  day :  and  the  first  declinings  are 
the  cause  of  all  the  rest. 


Evil  is  best  stopped  in  the  beginning  ;  and  there- 
fore when  we  begin  to  be  cold,  careless  in  th<i  pro- 
fession of  godliness,  and  not  to  have  the  like  savour 
as  you  were  wont  to  have,  take  heed.  A  heavy 
bo(iy  moving  downward  siiii  gets  more  strength, 
it  goes  down,  and  moves  faster  still.  Oh,  lh*-refore, 
stay  at  first.  The  first  remitting  of  your  warch  and 
spiritual  fervour  is  that  which  is  the  ta\ise  of  all 
the  mischief  that  comes  upon  many  ;  so  that  they 
are  given  up  to  vile  affections  and  errcrs. 

It  is  easier  to  crush  the  egg  than  kill  the  serpent. 

He  that  keeps  his  house  in  constant  repair  pre« 
vents  the  fall  of  it.  Therefore  look  to  your  hearts 
still.  Manton,  1620- 1667. 

(4437.)  Examination  will  help  the  Christian  that 
has  fallen  and  bruised  himself  to  heal  the  wound 
whilst  it  is  fresh,  before  it  is  festered,  This  one 
advantage,  if  there  were  no  more,  is  extraordinary. 
As  the  sting  of  sin,  though  the  bee  be  fled,  works 
itself  into  the  flesh  deeper,  and  diffuses  its  venom 
more  strongly,  causing  the  greater  pain,  that  every 
man,  unless  foolish,  will  speedily  pull  it  out,  lest 
he  increase  his  own  anguish  ;  truly  so  does  sin, — 
though  the  honey,  the  pleasure  of  it  be  gone,  yet 
the  sting  remains ;  and  the  longer  it  is  before  it  is 
pulled  out  by  faith  and  repentance,  the  deeper  it 
works  itself  into  the  soul,  and  the  more  sorrow  it 
will  put  us  to  in  this  or  the  other  world. 

When  sin  is  admitted  into  the  soul,  and  as  a 
thief  in  the  night  stolen  in  unawares,  when  the  eye 
of  the  soul's  watchfulness  was  fallen  asleep,  ex- 
amination will  light  the  candle  of  the  word,  and 
search  the  house  narrowly,  and  find  out  tliis  ill 
guest ;  and  before  it  has  done  so  much  mischief  as 
it  intended,  apprehend  it,  indict,  condemn,  and 
execute  it.  — Swiniwck,  1673. 

(4438.)  An  enemy  may  much  sooner  be  forced 
out  of  his  holds  when  he  has  newly  taken  pos- 
session, llian  when  he  has  continued  so  long  as  to 
cast  up  his  baid<s,  make  his  ditches,  placed  his 
guns,  and  foitilied  them.  After  we  liave  been 
toiled  by  our  spiritual  enemies,  and  by  examination 
find  out  the  cause,  it  will  make  us  more  watchful 
at  that  gate  at  which  they  entered,  and  careful  of 
that  particular  wherein  they  got  the  advantage  of 
us.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4439.)  Examination  is  a  special  preservative 
against  sin.  Examination  will  help  the  Christian, 
if  nut  to  hinder  a  coming  disease,  yet  to  prevent  its 
growing  and  increase.  It  is  observed  of  the  Dutch- 
men that  they  keep  their  banks,  notwithstanding 
the  threats  of  the  insulting  ocean,  with  little  cost 
and  labour,  because  they  look  narrowly  to  them, 
and  stop  them  up  in  time  ;  if  there  be  but  a  small 
breach,  tlioy  stop  it  presently,  and  hereby  save 
much  charge  and  trouble.  Frequent  examination 
will  do  this  courtesy  for  the  Christian,  it  will 
maintain  his  peace  with  little  charge  and  trouble 
comparatively. 

The  ship  that  leaks  is  more  easily  emptied  at  the 
beginning  than  afterwards.  The  bird  is  easily 
killed  in  the  egg,  but  when  o«ice  hatched  and 
Hedged,  we  may  kill  it  when  we  can  catch  it.  A 
frequent  reckoning  with  ourselves  will  pluck  sin  up 
before  it  is  rooted  in  the  soul. 

— Swiftnock,  1673. 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    74S    ) 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


III.    SHOULD  BE   MADE  FREQUENTLY. 

1.  Yearly. 

(4440.)  As  there  is  no  watch,  be  it  ever  so  good, 
but  must  be  daily  wound  up,  and  now  and  then 
taken  asunder  to  remove  the  rust  and  dirt,  and 
mend  or  repair  what  may  l^e  broken  or  out  of 
order,  so  he  that  is  careful  of  his  soul  ought  to  wind 
it  up  daily  to  God  by  the  foregoing  exercises,  and 
at  least  once  a  year  take  it  asunder  to  redress, 
rectify,  and  examine  diligently  all  its  affections 
and  passions,  that  all  its  defects  may  be  repaired  ; 
and  as  the  watchmaker  anoints  the  wheels,  the 
springs,  and  all  the  movements  with  some  delicate 
oils,  that  the  motions  of  the  w  heels  may  be  more 
easy,  and  the  whole  of  the  watch  less  subject  to 
rust,  so  a  devout  person,  after  taking  this  review  of 
his  heart,  in  order  to  renew  it,  must  anoint  it  with 
the  sacraments.  — Francis  de  Sales, 

2.  DaUy. 

(4441.)  By  a  daily  examination  of  our  actions, 
we  shall  the  easier  cure  a  great  sin,  and  prevent 
its  arrival  to  become  habitual  ;  for  to  examine  we 
suppose  to  be  a  relative  duty,  and  instrumental  to 
something  else.  We  examine  ourselves,  that  we 
may  find  out  our  failings  and  cure  them  ;  and 
therefore  if  we  use  our  remedy  when  the  wound  is 
fresh  and  bleeding,  we  shall  find  the  cure  more 
certain  and  less  painful.  For  so  a  taper,  when  its 
crown  of  flame  is  newly  blown  off,  retains  a  nature 
so  symbolical  to  light,  that  it  will  with  greediness 
reliindle  and  snatch  a  ray  from  the  neighbouring 
fire.  So  is  the  soul  of  man  when  it  is  newly  fallen 
into  sin  :  altliough  God  be  angry  with  it,  and  the 
state  of  God's  favour  and  its  own  graciousness  is 
interrupted,  yet  the  habit  is  not  naturally  changed  ; 
and  still  God  leaves  some  roots  of  virtue  standing, 
and  the  man  is  modest,  or  apt  to  be  made  ashamed, 
and  he  is  not  grown  a  bold  sinner ;  but  if  he  sleeps 
on  it,  and  returns  again  to  the  same  sin,  and  by 
degrees  grows  in  love  with  it  and  gets  the  custom, 
and  the  strangeness  of  it  is  taken  away,  then  it  is 
his  master,  and  is  swelled  into  a  heap,  and  is 
abetted  by  u>e,  and  corroborated  by  newly-enter- 
tained principles,  and  is  insinuated  into  his  nature, 
and  hath  possessed  his  affections,  and  tainted  the 
will  and  the  understanding,  and  by  this  time  a  man 
is  in  the  state  of  a  decaying  merchant — his  accounts 
are  so  great  and  so  intricate,  and  so  much  in  arrears, 
that  to  examine  it  will  be  but  to  represent  the  par- 
ticulars of  his  calamity ;  therefore  they  think  it 
better  to  pull  the  napkin  before  their  eyes,  than  to 
stare  on  the  circumstances  of  their  death. 

— Jeremy  Taylor,  16 12-1667. 

(4442.)  Often  reflect  upon  thyself  in  a  day,  and 
observe  what  company  is  with  thy  heart.  We  may 
know  by  the  noise  in  the  school  that  the  master  is 
not  there  ;  much  of  the  misrule  in  our  bosom  arises 
from  the  neglect  of  visiting  our  hearts. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4443. )  Make  up  your  spiritual  accounts  daily ; 
lee  how  matters  stand  between  God  and  your  souls 
(Ps.  Ixxvii.  6).  Often  reckonings  keep  God  and 
conscience  friends.  Do  with  your  hearts  as  you  do 
with  your  watches,  wind  them  up  every  morning  by 
prayer,  and  at  night  examine  whether  your  hearts 
have  gone  true  all  thai  day,  whether  the  wheels  of 
your  affections  have  moved  swiftly  toward  heaven. 
Uh,  call  yourselves  often  to  account ;   keep  your 


reckonings  even,  and  that  is  the  wav  to  keep  youf 
peace.  — Watson,  1696. 

(4444.)  Housekeepers,  by  frequent  inspections 
and  attention,  preserve  the  brightness  of  their 
furniture  and  utensils.  Because  of  this  daily 
carefulness,  the  house  does  not  need  often  to  be 
"turned  out  of  windows  "  So  must  we  keep  our 
habits  and  principles  bright  and  serviceable,  if  the 
house  of  our  spirit  is  to  be  a  comfortable  home, 
and  its  furnishings  beautiful  and  dear  to  us.  We 
shall  not  need  great  and  frequent  disturbance  of 
our  inward  life,  if  we  practise  daily  order  and 
self-revision.  — Lynch,  181 8-187 1. 

(4445.)  "Let  a  man  examine  himself."  Alas  1 
that  in  the  use  of  such  a  precaution  the  children  of 
this  world  should  be  so  much  wiser  than  the  children 
of  light !  It  is  a  part  of  every  merchant's  education 
to  learn  that  art ;  and  it  is  his  only  safety  to 
practise  it.  Neglecting  to  balance  his  books,  he 
may  launch  out  into  expenses  quite  unsuitable  to 
his  circumstances;  persevere  in  branches  of  busi- 
ness which  are  not  to  his  profit,  but  loss  ;  fancy  he 
is  making  money  when  he  is  driving  on  ruin.  No 
other  fate  awaits  the  reckless  adventurer  than  that 
of  the  emigrant  ship  which  some  weeks  ago,  with 
hundreds  on  board  of  her,  full  of  hopes  of  happiness 
and  fortune  in  the  New  World,  ran  headlong  on 
Cape  Race  to  break  in  pieces,  and,  whelming  its 
living  freight  into  the  devouring  waves,  give  them 
a  grave  on  the  shores  where  they  expected  a  hapj^y 
home  !  They  took  no  soundings,  and  so  they  found 
no  safety.  The  wise  merchant  takes  stock,  balances 
his  books,  and,  in  some  businesses  at  least,  strikes 
a  balance  on  ever)'  day's  transactions. 

In  this,  as  in  the  energy  and  toil  and  self-denial 
and  resolution  of  worldly,  how  much  is  there  worthy 
of  the  imitation  of  Christian  men  ?  Why  should 
not  we,  at  the  close  of  each  day,  recall  all  its 
transactions  to  see  how  our  accounts  stand  with 
conscience  and  with  God — what  duties  had  bsen 
neglected,  and  what  done — what  temptations  had 
been  resisted,  and  what  yielded  to  ;  how  far  we 
had  indulged  evil  passions,  how  far  mortified  them 
— how  like  or  how  unlike  to  Christ  our  demeanour 
had  been? 

This  were  a  scrutiny  which,  though  often  painfu. 
and  humbling,  would  be  attended  with  t'tie  happiest 
results  :  — 

How  many  sins  would  it  extinguish  in  the  spark 
from  which  Christians  have  afterwards  to  be  saved 
by  lieiiig  pulled  out  of  the  roaring  fire? 

How  often  would  it  check  a  deviation  st  the 
beginning  which  ends  in  our  going  far  astray,  and 
losing  a  peace  which  in  this  world  we  may  never 
fully  recover? 

In  how  many  cases  would  it,  by  early  sending  us 
to  the  balm  of  Gilead,  heal  wounds  that,  neglected, 
fester  into  deep,  running  sores  ? 

And  as  I  have  seen  the  workman,  ere  he  retired 
to  rest,  throw  himself  into  stream  or  sea  to  wash 
away  the  sweat  and  dust  of  his  daily  toil,  from 
such  a  review  the  Christian  would  repair  each 
evening  to  the  fountain  of  Jesus'  blood  to  be 
cleansed  of  the  guilt  of  daily  sins  ;  and  rise  each 
morning  to  seek  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  do 
his  work,  to  keep  his  watch,  to  bear  his  burden,  to 
fight  his  battle,  better. 

If  balancing  our  accounts  with  God,  if  reviewing 
the  day's  transactions,  showed  no  progress  in  the 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    746    ) 


SELF-EXAMIN.  i  TION. 


divine  life,  what  earnestness  anil  liveliness  it  would 
imi'art  to  our  evening  prayers? 

If,  on  the  contrary,  it  showed  some  good  done, 
some  sin  crucified,  some  progress  maile,  what  a 
comfort,  as  we  laid  our  head  on  tlie  pillow,  to 
think  that  we  vsere  nearer  heaven  than  when  we 
first  believed,  and  that,  with  Jesus  standing  by  the 
helm,  our  bark,  whether  gliding  smoothly  over 
calm,  or  tossed  in  tempestuous  seas, -was  apjiroach- 
ing  the  shores  of  the  happy  land — the  home  and 
haven  of  our  eternal  rest  !  — Guthrie. 

IV.  HOW  THIS  DUTY  IS  TO  BE  PER- 
FORMED. 

1.  The  Inquiry  must  be  comprehensive, 

(4446.)  If  any  man  skill  not  what  examining 
means,  the  very  word  examine  is  so  pregnant  that 
it  prompts  us  how  we  should  examine ;  for  it 
signifies  to  put  ourselves  unto  the  touch-stone, 
as  if  we  would  try  gold  from  copper.  Therefore 
one  says  that  examination  is  the  eye  of  the  soul, 
whereby  she  sees  herself,  and  her  safety,  and  her 
danger,  and  the  way  which  she  walks,  and  her 
pace  which  she  holds,  and  the  end  to  which  she 
tends.  iShe  looks  into  her  glass,  and  spies  every 
spot  in  her  face,  how  all  her  graces  are  stained. 
Then  she  takes  the  watei  ol  life,  and  washes  her 
blots  away.  After  she  looks  again,  and  beholtls 
all  her  gilts — her  faith,  fear,  love,  patience,  meek- 
ness, and  marks  how  every  one  doth  flourish  or 
wither.  If  they  fade  and  decay,  that  she  feels  a 
consumption,  then  she  takes  preservaiives  and 
restoratives  of  prayer  and  counsel  and  repentance 
before  the  sickness  grow.  Thus  every  day  she  lets 
down  a  bucket  into  her  heart,  to  see  what  water  it 
brings  up,  lest  she  should  corrupt  within,  and  perish 
suddenly.  — iJenry  Smith,  1 560- 1 59 1. 

(4447.)  A  man  is  known  by  his  custom,  and 
the  course  of  his  endeavours,  v\hat  is  his  business. 
If  a  man  be  constantly,  easily,  frequently  carried 
away  to  sin,  it  discovers  a  habit  of  soul,  and  the 
temper  of  his  heart.  Meadows  may  be  overflown, 
but  marsh-ground  is  drowned  with  the  return  of 
every  tide.  A  child  of  God  may  be  carried  away, 
and  act  contrary  to  the  bent  of  the  new  nature  ; 
but  wlien  men  are  overcome  with  every  temptation, 
it  argues  a  habit  of  sin.      — A/anton,  1620-1667. 

(4448.)  Some  men,  when  they  attempt  to  reform 
their  lives,  relorm  those  things  for  which  they  do 
not  much  care.  They  take  the  torch  of  (Jod's 
Word,  and  enter  some  indifferent  chamber,  and 
the  light  blazes  in,  and  they  see  that  they  are  very 
sinful  there  ;  and  then  they  look  into  anotlier  room, 
where  they  do  not  olien  ^tay,  and  are  willing  to 
Admit  that  they  are  very  sinli  1  there  ;  but  they 
leave  unexplored  some  cupboards  and  secret  apart- 
ments where  their  life  really  is,  and  wheie  they 
have  stored  up  the  things  which  are  deaiest  to 
them,  and  which  they  will  neither  part  from,  nor 
sufTer  rebuke  for.  — Beecher. 

(4449.)  You  will  see  in  the  many  men  who,  wliile 
they  are  living  sensual  lives,  are  yet  kind  in  their 
disposition.  In  a  thousand  small  things  they  are 
good,  but  their  appetites  are  the  end  of  their  being. 
These  are  what  they  live  for.  Their  goodness  is 
well  enough,  is  right  enough  ;  but  they  put  an  in- 
ordinate value  upon  it,  ant'  they  deceive  themselves 
by  reason  of  it. 


There  is  a  field  of  ten  acres,  and  it  is  full  of 

thistles,  and  burdock,  and  all  mann-r  of  noisomt 
weeds  ;  but  toward  the  middle  of  it  there  is  one 
single  stalk  of  wheat  springing  up  ;  and  you  say 
to  the  man  who  owns  it,  "  VVhy  are  you  such  a 
lazy  and  careless  husbandman?  1-ook  there,  and 
see  the  v\eeils  that  have  grown  up  and  choked  out 
everything  else."  "Sir,"  says  the  man,  "Do  you 
not  see  that  stalk  of  wheat?"  One  stalk  of  wheat 
in  ten  acres  !  Ten  acres  of  weeds,  and  one  stalk  of 
wheat  !  And  that  stalk  of  wheat  is  thought  to  be 
an  offset  to  all  these  weeds  ! 

So,  frequently,  when  I  talk  to  men,  they  parry 
my  ap]ieals  to  them.  I  urge  upon  them  the  necessity 
of  attending  to  their  soul's  salvation,  the  necessity 
of  repentance,  of  reformation,  of  faith  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  of  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
hoth  to  stimulate  and  to  cleanse  them;  and  they 
commence  saying  to  me,  "  I  am  not  so  bad  as  you 
take  me  to  be,"  and  they  rehearse  the  few  little 
things  that  are  good  in  them. 

Suppose  1  should  say  to  a  sluggard,  "The  winter 
draws  near,  and  you  have  no  he  use,  and  no  pro- 
vision for  one  ;"  and  he  should  pull  out  a  solitary 
shingle,  anti  say,  "  I  have  no  house,  it  is  true,  but 
I  have  something  to  cover  me  with  !  "    One  shingle  I 

Many  men  have  no  house,  and  no  furnished 
apartments  in  their  character,  but  they  have  some 
little  shingle-quality  of  gooti,  and  that  they  make 
an  offset  for  ah  that  is  bad  in  them.      — Beecher. 

(4450.)  The  very  common  device  of  worldly  men 
may  be  exposed,  by  which  they  keep  a  few  shcw- 
qualilies,  as  it  were,  as  an  offset  to  a  whole  career 
of  moral  un worthiness.  A  man  may  habitually 
seek  ends  thai  are  vvorldly  from  very  sordid  motives, 
and  yet  maintain  a  kind  of  external  confornnty  to 
custom,  so  that  he  shall  not  offend  needlessly.  His 
external  conduct  may  adapt  him  to  slide  smoothly 
along  among  men,  and  he  may  have  an  occasional 
flash  of  generosity,  while,  after  all,  the  central  flow 
of  his  nature  is  selfish — yea,  so  selfish,  that  the 
bott(mi  of  it,  being  mud,  is  sordid.  Though  a  man's 
tendencies  are  wrong,  though  the  currents  ot  his 
being  are  wrong,  though  the  substance  of  his  life  is 
wrong,  yet  he  may  so  delude  himself  that  a  few 
right  things  shall  seem  more  to  him  than  the  multi- 
tude of  wrong  ones  which  stand  over  against  them  ; 
that  the  bubbles  which  dance  on  the  surface  of  the 
turbid  stream  shall  seem  more  to  him  than  the 
stream  itself.  I  have  seen  men  whose  life  was 
a  perpetual  selfishness.  I  have  seen  men  whose 
life  was  a  perpetual  crushing  of  their  fellow-men  ; 
and  yet,  the  occasional  kindnes-es  and  generosities 
which  they  manifested  they  hung  in  their  memory 
as  you  would  hang  a  picture  in  your  room,  to  be 
looked  at,  and  praised,  and  admired,  and  to  serve 
as  an  argument  to  themselves  and  others  that  they 
were  not  so  bail  after  all.  They  do  not  make  many 
long  prayers — nor  an)'  prayers,  lor  that  matter ;  they 
sometimes  swenr  a  little  ;  they  drink  occasionally  ; 
tliey  are  pretty  hard  in  a  bargan  ;  they  give  their 
time  and  strength  to  their  own  selfish  plans;  but 
they  would  not  see  a  widow  destitute  of  a  cow  with- 
out giving  a  five  dollars  to  her  !  And  they  never 
forget  that  five  dollars;  and  they  never  lorget  to 
tell  you  that  they  came  forward  and  gave  their 
money  for  a  benev(jlent  object,  and  made  no  preten- 
sions about  it  1  They-  do  not  profe.ss  to  be  so  very 
gOLjd,  but  they  have  a  few  shining  traits — genero- 
sities and  kindness — and  these  they  keep  to  glitter 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    747     ) 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


before  men  ;  and  they  laud  themselves,  and  think 
that  they  are  very  good.  Why?  Because  they 
have  three  or  four  show-qualities  that  they  set  in 
opposition  to  the  whole  life  that  flows  like  a  stream 
toward  damnation.  All  the  foundation?;  of  their 
charaoier  ate  wron<^,  and  the  whole  su])erstructuie 
wliich  is  goini;  up  is  wronij  ;  but  they  have  hung  on 
the  cold  and  slimy  stone  which  composes  the  prison- 
house  of  their  nature  one  little  bright  vine  ;  and 
that  they  remember,  and  that  they  think  worth 
more  than  all  besides.  Have  you  not  seen  such 
men  ?  Have  you  had  to  go  a  great  way  to  see  them, 
some  of  you  ? 

Now,  would  I  undervalue  an  occasional  kindness 
or  generosity  ?  No.  That  sympathy  for  the  poor, 
that  relief  of  the  widow  in  distress,  that  succour  of 
your  sick  neighbour  was  good — so  good  that  you 
ought  to  have  repeated  it  ;  so  good  that  it  ought  not 
to  have  been  left  without  company  ;  so  good  that  you 
ought  to  have  added  other  noble  deeds  to  it  ;  so 
good  that  your  character  ought  to  be  filled  with  such 
deeds.  But  still,  you  are  pioud  ;  you  are  envious  ; 
you  are  jealous  ;  you  are  selfish  ;  you  are  profane  ; 
you  are  ungodly  ;  you  violate  the  laws  of  God  in 
nature,  and  in  your  own  soul ;  and  that  solitary 
good  thing,  though  it  is  not  less  than  goo'd,  is 
not  valid  as  against  the  whole  tendency  of  your 
life. 

I  owe  you  a  thousand  dollars,  and  I  bring  you 
one  poor,  battered  cent.  You  say,  "That  is  no 
offset  to  your  debt."  I  say,  "Do  not  you  under- 
value that  money?  is  it  not  good  for  something?" 
You  say,  "  Yes,  it  is  good  for  one  cent,  and  no 
more."  And  do  1  tread  under  foot  your  good  deeds 
because  I  say  that  ihey  do  not  make  you  a  man  ? 
They  do  not  build  you  up.  They  do  not  establish 
your  chftracier.  They  do  not  even  mark  the  out- 
lines of  it.  They  are  in  contrast  with  it.  They 
are  only  a  light  that  glows  in  the  prison-house  of 
your  nature  to  show  how  dark  that  prison-house  is. 
And  by  the  good  that  you  do  1  rebuke  you,  and 
warn  you.  Do  not  think  that  you  are  going  into 
the  kingdom  of  God  because  here  and  there  you 
have  a  shining  buckle  on  the  harness  of  the  chariot 
of  damnation!  — Beecher. 

2.  It  must  be  particular  and  searching:. 

( I . )  Taking  note  of  our  imperfections  as  7vell  as 
tff  our  sins. 

(4451.)  Our  daily  infirmities  and  imperfections 
must  not  be  passed  over.  Some  have  died  of  very 
slight  wounds.  .Small  drops  of  rain  make  the  earth 
miry  and  dirty.  Vain  thoughts,  speniling  time  idly, 
omission  of  doing  good  when  a  price  has  been  in 
our  iiands,  are  counted  by  us  small  sins,  but  sucli 
small  dro|)Swill  pollute  our  consciences  to  purpose, 
if  not  bewailed  timely.  — Switinock,  1673. 

(2.)  Taking  note  of  the  things  from  which  we  seek 
tomfort  in  distress. 

(4452.)  Observe  what  your  hearts  have  their 
ordinary  recourse  unto  in  case  of  distress.  Men's 
expectations  -re  often  disappointed,  and  then  their 
hearts  fail.  \nd  look,  as  in  fears,  or  in  a  swoon, 
men's  vital  sf'nits  run  to  the  heart  to  comfort  it  ; 
so  in  distress  the  heart  runs  out  to  something  else, 
«^hich  it  is  inured  unto,  to  comfort  it.  And  as  the 
otter,  when  in  times  of  Irost  it  is  kept  under  by  the 
ice,  yet  by  its  breath  keeps  open  some  hole  as  a 
breathing  hole,  so  dops  the  heart.     Now  watch  and 


observe  the  haunts  and  breathing  holes  which  ie 
distress  thy  soul  keeps  open  to  thyself,  to  fetch  in 
fresh  air  from  ;  or  look,  as  if  you  should  see  a 
company  of  rabbits  grazing  in  a  sunshiny  day,  and 
a  man  come  by  whom  they  fear,  or  a  stoim,  you 
shall  see  them  all  instantly  run  into  their  several 
burrows,  which  are  proper  to  them  ;  and  by  the 
place  whither  each  of  them  does  run.  you  may  dis- 
cern which  is  proper  to  each  :  now  thus  in  distress 
does  the  heart  run  to  its  holes. 

—  Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(3.)  Taking  note  especially  of  the  motives  and 
principles  by  which  we  are  actuated, 

(4453.)  There  be  many  things  that  move,  and 
yet  their  motion  is  not  an  argument  of  life.  A 
windmill  when  the  wind  serveth,  moveth,  and 
moveth  very  nimbly  too  ;  yet  this  cannot  be  said 
to  be  a  living  creature.  No  ;  it  moveth  only  by  an 
external  cause,  by  an  artificial  contrivance.  So  it 
is  also  if  a  man  see  anotiier  man  move,  and  move 
very  fast,  in  those  things  which  of  themselves  are 
the  ways  of  God  :  you  shall  see  him  move  as  fast  to 
hear  a  sermon  as  his  neighbour  doth  ;  is  as  forward 
and  hasty  to  thrust  himself  and  bid  himself  a  guest 
to  the  Lord's  table  (when  God  hath  not  bid  him)  a« 
any.  Now,  the  quesiion  is,  what  principle  sets  him 
a- work?  If  it  be  an  inward  principle  of  life,  out  of 
a  sincere  affection  and  love  to  God  and  His  ordin- 
ances, it  arguelh  that  man  hath  some  life  of  grace  ; 
but  if  it  be  some  wind  that  bloweth  oi>  him — the 
wind  of  state,  tlie  wind  of  law,  the  wind  of  danger, 
of  penalty,  the  wind  of  fashion  or  custom — to  do  as 
his  neighbours  do  ;  if  these  or  the  like  be  the  things 
that  draw  him  tliither,  this  is  no  argumeiit  of  life 
at  all  :  it  is  a  cheap  thing,  it  is  a  counterfeit  and 
dead  piece  of  service.  — Uc^y,  1619. 

(4454.)  It  especially  concerns  thee  to  search  out 
the  pollutions  of  thy  spirit,  of  thy  understanding, 
judgment,  and  will  ;  how  far  they  are  guilty  in  the 
commission  of  sin,  which  will  seive  to  aggravate  or 
lessen  the  sin  so  much  the  more  as  they  are  found 
to  have  a  greater  or  a  lesser  hand  in  it.  For  as  the 
sins  of  princes  are  greater  than  tl.ose  of  other  men, 
because  they  are  their  rulers,  so  are  the  sins  of 
these  superior  faculties  of  a  higher  guilt,  because 
it  is  their  duty,  and  they  are  placed  to  guide  the 
rest.  And  it  concerns  thee  to  be  the  more  strictly 
inquisitive  into  tliese  sins,  because  of  all  others 
they  most  conceal  themselves,  and  as  their  o])era- 
tions  aie  more  strong,  so  with  less  noise,  as  poison 
W(jrks  more  strongly  in  the  head  than  in  the 
stomach,  though  it  be  perceived  more  there  than 
in  the  head.  Jnquiie  tliou  into  tne  sins  of  ti\ese 
ringleaders  in  thee  ;  and  as  in  case  of  treason,  the 
government  inquires  most  after  tlie  contrivers  of  it, 
so  look  not  thou  so  much  to  the  members  of  the 
body,  and  the  lusts  which  war  in  them,  as  unto 
that  corrupted  judgment  and  will  in  thee  that 
devised  the  means  to  satisfy  those  lusts,  which  fed 
them  with  thoughts  and  fancies,  which  were  privy 
to  ihe  first  contrivance  of  the  treason,  and  gave 
way,  and  consented  to  it.  The  lusts  wliich  war  in 
the  members  are  but  weapons,  instrument.-.  (Rom. 
vi.  19").  You  must  therefore  look  to  the  higher 
powers  of  sin  in  the  soul,  to  the  throne  of  unright- 
eousness ilicie,  whose  agents  those  lusts  are. 

If  a  man  would  righily  understand  a  ^tate  or 
a  commonwealth,  it  is  not  enough  to  know  and 
view  what  proclamations  come  out,   what  decrees 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    748    ) 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


•ud  orders  are  made,  what  factions  are  in  it,  what 
transactions  of  affairs,  what  armies  raised,  &c.,  for 
this  all  in  a  kingdom  know  ;  but  he  who  would  be 
an  exact  statesman  must  also  know  wliat  passes  at 
council  board,  what  the  consults  and  deliberations 
are,  what  was  the  design  of  such  acts  and  proclama- 
tions, and  to  what  end  they  were  made,  what  ends 
such  or  such  a  potCTit  laction  has,  with  what 
colours  they  hide  their  secret  intents,  and  into 
what  principles  of  state  all  may  be  resolved.  This 
is  so  to  understand  a  state  as  few  do,  and  for  want 
of  this  knowledge  how  amiss  do  vulgar  capacities 
judge  of  public  actions.  Thus  also  if  you  would 
understand  the  state  of  your  souls,  you  must 
diligently  and  especially  mark  what  passes  at 
council  board  in  the  understanding,  the  sight  of 
which  is  enough  to  amaze  us,  if  we  saw  but  by 
what  devilish  principles  and  atheistical  consulta- 
tions all  is  guided  and  swayed,  and  into  which 
our  actions  may  be  resolved,  what  most  base  and 
filthy  ends  rule  us,  and  what  petty,  slight,  foolish 
motives  we  have,  what  ungodly  reasons  and  deli- 
berations pass  through  us,  and  how  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  conscience,  which  notes  all,  as  God's  sworn 
secretary,  and  how  all  is  overruled  by  our  corrupt 
reasonings,  let  conscience  sny  what  it  will  in  opposi- 
tion ;  I  say,  if  we  saw  all  this,  it  would  amaze  any 
of  us.  This  is  indeed  to  search  a  man's  heart,  and 
to  know  it,  for  the  wickedness  of  it  lies  especially 
in  deceitfulness,  and  that  deceitfulness  consists  in 
the  juggling  tricks  of  the  mind,  which  are  least 
discerned  by  us.  — Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(4.)  Because  only  thus  can  the  exercise  be  made  a 
reality. 

(4455.)  "  Examine  yourselves  : "  a  metaphor  from 
metal,  that  is  pierced  thorough,  to  see  if  it  be  gold 
within.  Self-examination  is  a  spiritual  inquisition 
set  up  in  one's  soul  :  a  man  must  search  his  heart 
for  sin,  as  one  would  search  a  liouse  for  a  traitor  : 
or,  as  Israel  sought  for  leaven  to  burn  it. 

—r  Watson,  1696. 

(5.)  Because  there  may  be  the  form  of  godliness 

without  the  poiver. 

(4456.)  The  devil  may  be  with<n,  though  he 
stand  not  at  the  door  to  be  seen.  The  fox  keeps 
his  den  close  wlien  he  knows  that  God's  huntsmen 
De  abroad  to  seek  him.  ~— Adams,  1654. 

(4457.)  In  God's  sight  the  whole  human  family 
is  divisible  into  two  classes,  and  only  two  —  the 
good  and  bad,  the  conveited  and  the  uncon- 
verted— those  that,  still  at  enmity  with  God,  lie 
under  condemnation,  and  such  as,  renewed  in  the 
spirit  of  their  minds,  and  reconciled  to  Him  by  tlie 
blood  of  His  Son,  are  in  a  state  of  grace. 

But,  like  those  great  orders  of  plants  or  animals 
which  we  meet  with  in  the  sciences  of  botany 
and  zoology,  these  two  classes  are  divisible  into 
numerous  subdivisions,  differing  apparently,  though 
not  radically,  so  much  from  each  other  that  some 
sinners  seem  lo  stand  more  nearly  related  to  saints 
than  to  many  of  their  own  class  ;  just  as,  for  in- 
stance, the  sponge  or  branching  coral,  fixed  to  the 
rocks  and  belonging  to  the  animal  kingdom,  looks 
more  allied  to  the  tangle  that  sways  than  to  the 
fishes  ths.t  swim  in  the  flowing  tide. 

Let  no  man,  therefore,  conclude  that  he  must  be 
converted  because  there  are  broad  outward  marks 
of  difference  between  him  and  many  who  are  cer- 


tainly not.  People  have  gone  down  to  hell,  as  th« 
Pharisee  did  to  his  house,  thanking  God  they  are 
not  as  others.  The  difference  between  them  has 
been  more  apparent  than  real,  being  no  greater 
than  that  between  two  ni;^'h;s — one  where  the  bark 
seems  to  sail  in  the  moimshine  on  a  silver  sea, 
and  the  other  so  pitchy  daik  that  her  outlook  can 
see  neither  coast  nor  reef,  though  he  hears  the  roar 
of  breakers  ;  or  between  two  bodies  both  dead — 
one  still  beautiful  in  death,  and  the  other  a  horrid 
spectacle  of  loathsome  and  ghastly  decay.  In 
such  circumstances  how  necessary  it  is  to  remember 
our  Saviour's  warning :  "  Take  heed  that  ye  be  not 
deceived."  — Guthrie. 

(6. )  Because  one  habitual  fault  may  vitiate  tht 

whole  life. 

(4458.)  When  a  clock  is  out  of  order,  we  take  i» 
to  pieces  and  search  where  the  fault  lies,  knowing 
that  one  wheel  amiss  may  hinder  the  going  of  the 
whole  clock.  Our  hearts  are  every  day  out  0} 
order  ;  our  work  must  be  to  take  them  to  pieces  by 
examination,  and  to  see  where  the  great  fault  is. 
— Swinnock,  1673. 

(7.)  Because  thus  only  can  our  sincerity  be  proved, 
(4459. )  "  Let  us  search  and  liy  our  ways,  and  turn 
again  to  the  Lord."  The  thief  must  be  found 
before  he  can  be  tried,  and  tried  before  he  is  con- 
demned and  executed.  Some  sins,  no  doubt,  may 
be  apprehended  with  little  pains,  but  if  thou  bees* 
true  to  God  and  thy  own  soul,  thou  wouldst  not 
willingly  let  any  of  the  company  escape.  IIow 
canst  thou  expect  pardon  for  any,  that  desirest  not 
justice  on  all  .■'  ami  how  canst  thou  say,  thou  desirest 
justice  on  those  sins,  which  thou  endeavourest  not 
to  apprehend  ?  That  constable  that  having  a  hue- 
and-cry  brought  him  for  a  pack  of  thieves,  and  lets 
any  get  away  rather  than  he  will  rise  to  search  for 
them,  shows  his  zeal  to  justice  is  little.  I  do  not 
say,  thou  wjlt  be  able  to  find  all ;  it  is  enough  if  by 
thy  diligence  thou  givest  proof  of  thy  sincerity,  ihac 
thou  wouklst  not  conceal  any.  Set  thyself,  there- 
fore, in  good  earnest  to  the  work  ;  beset  thy  heart 
and  life  round,  as  men  would  do  a  wood  where 
murderers  are  lodged  ;  hunt  back  to  the  several 
stages  of  thy  lile,  youth,  and  riper  years,  all  the 
capacities  and  relations  thou  hast  stood  in  ;  thy 
calling  general  and  particular,  every  place  where 
thou  hast  lived,  and  thy  behaviour  in  them.  Bid 
memory  bring  in  its  old  records,  and  read  over 
what  passages  are  there  written  ;  call  conscience  in 
to  depose  what  it  knows  concerning  thee,  and 
encourage  it  to  speak  freely  without  mincing  the 
matter.  And  take  heed  thou  dost  not  snib  this 
witness,  as  some  corrupt  judges  use,  when  they  would 
favour  a  bad  cause,  or  give  it  secret  instructions,  as 
David  did  Joab,  to  ileal  gently  with  thee.  Be 
willing  to  have  thy  conditions  opened  fully,  and  all 
thy  coverings  turned  up. 

— Gurnall,  16 17-1679. 

3.  It  must  extend  to  the  outward  life. 

(4460.)  Suppose  a  man  should  sail,  all  the  boil- 
ing and  blazing  day,  round  and  round  an  old  Dutch 
ship  in  the  harbour,  and  the  next  day  you  should 
see  him,  like  a  magnified  fly,  creeping  up  and 
down  the  masts  and  spars,  and  examining  the 
rigging,  and  you  should  ask  him  what  he  waJ 
doing,  and  he  sliould  answer,  "  I  have  heard  that 
this  ship  is  a  dull  sailer,  and  I  want  to  look  at  it 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


(    749    ) 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


and  see."  Could  he  ever  find  out  in  this  way? 
No.  Let  him  weigh  anchor  and  spread  the  canvas, 
and  take  the  wind  and  bear  away,  if  he  would 
know  how  she  sails. 

So,  if  a  Christian  wouiu  learn  his  true  state,  let 
him  not  row  round  and  round  the  hull  of  his  self- 
consciousness,  and  creep  up  and  dovvn  the  masts 
and  spars  of  his  feelings  and  affections  ;  but  let  him 
spread  the  sails  of  resolution,  and  bear  away  on 
the  ocean  of  duty.  Then  he  shall  know  whether 
he  be  a  dull  or  a  fast  sailer.  — Beecher. 

(4461.)  As  a  man  who  is  ignorant  of  the  work- 
manship of  a  watch  tries  to  examine  it,  and  after 
several  bungling  attempts  succeeds  in  opening  it, 
and  then  does  not  know  where  to  find  the  main- 
spring or  the  hairspring,  or  why  the  wheels  play 
mio  each  other,  and  at  last  shuts  it  again  ;  so  many 
wen  attempt  self-examination.  In  the  first  place, 
they  find  it  very  hard  to  fix  their  thoughts.  They 
cannot  define  tlieir  reason  ;  they  do  not  understand 
the  play  of  their  affections,  or  their  moral  powers, 
and  so,  after  a  weary  hour  they  shut  themselves  up 
again,  and  hope  that  in  some  mysterious  way  God 
will  bless  to  them  the  effort  at  self-examination. 
A  man  might  as  reasonably  look  into  a  well  to  see 
the  sun  rise,  as  to  look  thus  into  his  heart  with  the 
expectation  of  good. 

Other  men  examine  themselves  on  this  wise. 
They  sit  down  and  try  to  recall  all  their  thoughts, 
and  feelings,  and  actions  during  tlie  day,  and  then 
they  question  themselves,  "  Do  you  enjoy  reading 
the  Bible?"  Yes,  they  believe  they  do.  "Do 
you  like  Sunday  ?  "  Yes,  on  the  whole,  what  with 
the  music  and  all  the  rest,  they  think  they  do  like 
Sunday.  "Are  you  fond  of  religious  conversa- 
tion?" Yes,  if  they  can  liave  their  choice  of  people, 
they  think  they  are  fond  of  religious  conversation. 
A  vine  would  never  be  so  stupid  as  to  examine 
itself  thus,  but  suppose  it  should,  and  should  call 
out,  "  Roots,  do  you  enjoy  being  down  there  in  the 
soil?"  "Yes,  we  enjoy  being  here  in  the  soil." 
"Stem,  do  you  like  to  be  out  there  in  summer?" 
"Yes,  I  like  to  be  out  here  in  summer."  "  Leaves, 
are  you  fond  of  waving  in  the  sun  and  air?"  "Yes, 
we  are  fond  of  the  sun  and  air  ;  "  and,  satisfied,  it 
says,  "I  am  an  excellent  vine."  But  the  gardener. 
Handing  near,  exclaims,  "The  useless  thing!  1 
paid  ten  dollars  for  the  cutting,  and  I  have  pruned 
and  cultivated  it,  and  for  years  looked  for  the  black 
Hamburg  grapes  it  was  to  bear,  but  it  has  yielded 
only  leaves."  Ht  does  not  care  that  the  roots  love 
the  soil  and  the  stcn  the  summer.  It  makes  no 
difference  to  him  though  every  leaf  spread  itself 
broad  as  Sahara  in  its  barrenness.  It  is  fruit  that 
he  wants.  Now,  reading  the  Bible  is  like  the  roots 
in  the  soil,  and  liking  Sunday  is  like  the  stem  in 
iummer,  and  being  fond  of  religious  conversation 
is  like  the  leaves  in  the  sun  and  &>.  If  religion 
does  not  bring  forth  fruit  in  the  life,  all  ih^se  things 
are  as  worthless  in  the  sight  of  God,  as  is  the  barren 
vine  in  the  thought  of  the  gardener. 

Around  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  in  the  galleries  of 
Europe,  artists  are  always  congregated.  You  may 
tee  them  standing  before  Raphael's  Transfigura- 
tion, copying  with  the  nicest  care  every  line  and 
tint  of  that  matchless  work  ;  glancing  constantly 
from  their  canvas  to  the  picture,  that  even  in  the 
minutest  parts  they  may  reproduce  the  original. 
But  if  at  one  side  you  saw  an  artist  who  only 
looked  up  occasionally  from  his  work,  and  drew 


a  line,  but  filled  in  here  a  tree  or  a  waterfall,  and 
there  a  deer  or  a  cottage,  just  as  his  fancy  suggested, 
what  kind  of  a  copyist  would  you  call  him  ?  Now, 
true  self-examination  lies  in  ascertaining  how  nearly 
we  are  reproducing  Christ.  He  is  painted  for  us 
in  no  gallery,  but  His  life  glows,  fourfold,  in  the 
Gospels,  and  our  hearts  are  the  canvas  upon  which 
we  are  to  copy  it.  Let  us  not  take  "cca-ional 
glimpses,  and  work,  meanwhile,  upon  earthly 
designs ;  but  let  us  look  long  and  earnestly  till 
our  lives  reflect  the  whole  Divine  image. 

— Beecher. 

4.  It  must  be  made  with  Scriptural  Intelligence. 

(4462.)  It  is  inconceivable  how  a  man  should 
rationally  judge  of  his  own  condition,  when  he 
knows  not  what  to  inquire  after  ;  or  that  he  should 
clearly  know  his  sincerity,  who  knows  not  what 
sincerity  is.  Yet  I  doubt  not  but,  by  an  internai 
feeling,  a  strong,  sound  Christian,  wiio  hath  his 
faith  and  love  of  other  graces  in  action,  may  com- 
fortably perceive  the  sincerity  of  his  graces,  though 
he  be  so  ignorant  as  not  clearly  and  liistinctly  to 
know  the  nature  of  sincerity,  or  to  give  any  just 
description  of  it ;  even  as  an  unlearned  man,  that  is 
of  a  sound  and  healthful  body,  may  feel  what 
health  is  when  he  cannot  describe  it,  nor  tell 
distinctly  wherein  it  doth  consist.  But  yet,  as  he 
hath  a  general  knowledge  of  it,  so  hath  thia 
ignorant,  sincere  Christian,  of  the  nature  of  sin- 
cerity. And,  withal,  this  is  a  more  dangerous 
ground  to  stand  on,  because  our  sense  is  so  uncer- 
tain in  this  case  more  than  in  the  welfare  of  the 
body ;  and  the  assurance  ol  such  a  soul  will  be 
more  defective  and  imperfect,  and  very  inconstant, 
who  goes  by  mere  feeling,  without  knowing  the 
nature  of  what  he  feeleih,  even  as  the  forementioned 
unlearned  man,  in  case  of  bodily  healtli,  if  he  have 
no  knowledge,  but  mere  feeling  of  the  nature  of 
health,  he  will  be  cast  down  with  a  toothache,  or 
some  harmless  disease,  if  it  be  painful,  as  if  he 
should  presently  die,  when  a  knowing  man  could 
tell  that  there  is  no  danger ;  and  he  would  make 
light  of  a  hectic,  or  other  mortal  disease,  till  it  be 
incurable,  because  he  feels  no  great  pain  in  it.  It 
is,  therefore,  a  matter  of  necessity  to  open,  most 
clearly  and  distinctly,  the  nature  of  sincerity  or  truth, 
so  far  as  concerns  the  case  in  hand. 

— Baxter,  1615-169I. 

6.  The  right  standard  must  be  employed, 

(4463.)  Let  us  not  commend  our  graces  to  the 
eye  of  our  deluded  judgments,  as  shopkeepers  cio 
their  coarse  wares,  by  setting  coarser  by  them,  or 
by  setting  in  our  sight  the  examples  of  others  who 
come  short  of  us;  but  let  us  compare  our  little 
sparks  of  grace  with  those  bright  flames  which  have 
shone  in  the  patriarchs,  prophets,  and  apostles,  yea, 
in  our  Saviour,  Christ  Himself.  And  so  we  shall 
not  be  proud  of  our  progress,  but  ashamed  rather  ol 
our  small  proficiency  ;  and  with  the  apostle,  "  for- 
getting those  things  which  are  behind,  and  reaching 
forth  to  those  things  that  are  before,"  we  shall 
"press  towards  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high 
calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus." 

— Dffwnatne,  1644. 

(4464.)  This  duty  of  examining  and  proving 
supposes  that  there  is  some  sure  standard,  which,  it 
we  go  by,  we  are  sure  not  to  be  deceived.  Now 
that  rule  is  the  Word  of  God  ;  but  as  in  matters  of 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION, 


(    75°    ) 


SELF-EX  A  MINA  TION. 


'doctrine  n.en  have  left  the  Scriptures,  the  sure  rule, 
ai.d  taken  up  antiquity,  universality,  tradition,  and 
the  like  for  their  guide,  and  by  this  means  have 
fallen  into  the  ditch  ;  so  in  matters  of  >;odliness, 
■when  we  should  try  ourselves  according  to  the 
characters  and  signs  that  the  Scripture  deciphers, 
we  lake  up  principles  in  tlie  world,  the  applause  of 
others,  the  conversation  of  most  in  the  world.  And 
thus  it  is  with  us  as  men  in  an  hospital,  because 
•every  one  is  either  wounded  or  lame,  or  some  way 
diseased,  therefore  none  are  offensive  to  each  other. 

— Burgess. 

(4465,)  Men  compare  themselves  with  men,  and 
readily  with  the  worst,  and  flatter  themselves  with 
that  comparative  betterness.  This  is  not  the  way 
to  see  spots,  to  look  into  the  muddy  streams  of 
profane  men's  lives  ;  but  look  into  the  clear  foun- 
tain of  the  Word,  and  there  we  may  both  discern 
and  wash  them  ;  and  consider  the  infinite  holiness 
of  God,  and  this  will  humble  us  to  the  dust. 

— LeigfUon,  1611-1684. 

(4466.)  Let  no  soul  examine  itself  by  any  lower 
•marks  than  this,  participation  of  the  divine  nature, 
eoifonnity  to  the  divine  image.  Examine  what 
•jlliance  your  soul  has  to  God  ;  *'  whose  is  the 
image  and  superscription."  Religion  is  a  divine 
accomplishment,  an  efflux  from  God,  and  may,  by 
its  affinity  to  heaven,  be  discerned  from  a  brat  of 
hell  and  darkness.  Therefore,  Christians,  if  you 
will  make  a  judgment  of  your  state,  lay  your  hearts 
and  lives  to  the  rule,  the  eternal  goodness,  the 
uncrented  purity  and  holiness,  and  see  whether  you 
resemble  thnt  copy  :  for  conformity  to  the  image 
and  will  of  God,  that  is  religion  ;  and  that  God  will 
own  for  His,  when  all  the  counterfeits  and  shadows 
of  it  will  fly  away  and  disappear  for  ever. 

There  is  a  vanity  which  I  have  observed  in  many 
pretenders  to  nobility  and  learning,  when  men  seek 
to  demonstrate  the  one  by  their  coat  of  arms,  and 
the  records  of  their  family,  and  the  other  by  a 
gown,  or  a  title,  or  their  names  standing  in  the 
register  of  the  university,  rather  than  by  the  accom- 
plisliments  and  behaviour  of  gentlemen  or  scholars. 

A  like  vanity,  I  doubt,  may  be  observed  in  many 
pretenilers  to  religion.  Some  are  searching  God's 
decretals  to  find  their  names  written  in  the  Book 
of  Life,  when  they  should  be  studying  to  find 
God's  name  written  upon  their  hearts,  '^Holiness 
to  the  Lord"  engraven  upon  their  souls.  Some 
are  busy  examining  themselves  by  notes  and  marks 
without  them,  when  they  should  labour  to  find 
the  marks  and  prints  o(  God  and  His  nature  upon 
thenK  Some  have  their  religion  in  their  books  and 
authors,  which  should  be  the  law  of  God  written 
in  the  tables  of  the  heart.  Some  glory  in  the  bulk 
of  their  duties,  and  in  t^ie  multitude  of  their 
pompous  perlormances  and  religious  achievements, 
crying  with  jehu,  "Come,  see  here  my  zeal  for  the 
Lord  ;  "  whereas  it  were  much  more  excellent  if  one 
could  see  their  likeness  to  the  Lord,  and  the  cha- 
racters of  divine  beauty  and  holiness  drawn  upon 
their  hearts  and  lives.  But  we,  if  we  would  judge 
riglitly  of  our  religious  state,  must  view  ourselves 
in  (iod,  who  is  the  fountain  of  all  goodness  and 
holiness,  and  the  rule  of  all  perfection. 

— Shaw,  1635-1696. 
V.    MISTAKES   TO  BE  GUARDED  AGAINST. 

1.  Judgements  are  not  to  be  founded  on  merely 
transient  emotions. 

(4407.)   l;ic>sed    is  he   that  does    righteousness: 


not  only  now  and  then,  but  'tis  his  constant  course. 
We  do  not  judge  men's  complexions  by  the  colour 
they  have  when  they  sit  before  the  fire.  We  can- 
not judge  of  men  by  a  fit  and  pang  when  they  are 
under  the  awe  of  an  ordinance,  or  in  good  comp.nny; 
but  when  at  all  times  he  labours  to  keep  up  a  warmth 
of  heart  towards  God.         — Ma7tton,  1620-1677. 

2.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  self-examina- 
tion is  only  a  means  to  an  end. 

{4468.)  So  sluggish  are  our  hearts,  and  so  loose 
and  inconstant  are  our  apprehensions  and  resolu; 
tions,  that  we  have  need  to  be  most  frequently 
quickening  them,  and  lifting  at  them,  and  renewing 
our  desires,  and  suppressing  the  contrary  desires, 
by  the  serious  thoughts  of  God  and  immortality. 
Our  thoughts  are  the  bellows  that  must  kindle  the 
flames  of  love,  desire,  hope,  and  zeal.  Our 
thoughts  are  the  spur  that  we  must  put  on  a 
sluggish,  tired  heart.  And  so  far  as  they  conduce 
to  anv  such  works  and  ends  as  these,  they  are  de- 
sirable and  good.  But  what  master  loveth  to  see 
his  servant  sit  down  and  think  when  he  should  be 
at  work  ?  or  to  use  his  thoughts  only  to  grieve  and 
vex  himself  for  his  faults,  but  not  to  mend  them? 
to  sit  down  lamenting  that  he  is  so  bad  and  unpro- 
fitable a  servant,  when  he  should  be  up  and  doing 
his  master's  business  as  well  as  he  is  able?  Such 
thoughts  as  hinder  us  from  duty,  or  discourage,  or 
unfit  us  for  it,  are  real  sins,  however  they  may  go 
under  a  better  name.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4469.)  A  Highlander  who  purchased  a  barometer 
under  a  mistaken  idea  of  its  purpose,  complained 
that  he  could  not  see  that  it  had  made  any  improve- 
ment in  the  weather  ;  and  those  who  use  signs  and 
evidences  for  an  intent  which  they  will  neveranswer, 
will  be  sure  to  complain  that  their  faith  is  not  in- 
creased, though  they  are  always  practising  self- 
examination.  Yet  a  barometer  has  its  uses,  and  so 
have  evidences  of  grace.  To  feel  the  pulse  is  an 
admirable  thing  ;  the  mistake  is  to  put  this  in  the 
place  of  strengthening  food  or  tbnic  medicine. 

— Spurgeon. 

3.  It  must  not  be  conducted  bo  as  to  become 
morbid  and  hurtful. 

(4470.)  Though  straggling  thoughts  must  be 
turned  inward  our  hearts  must  be  watched  and 
not  neglected,  yet  must  we  not  be  always  poring 
on  ourselves,  and  neglect  the  rest  of  our  intellectual 
converse.  To  look  too  long  on  the  running  of  a 
stream  will  make  our  eyes  misjudge  of  what  we 
after  look  on,  as  if  all  things  had  the  same  kind  of 
motion.  To  look  too  long  on  the  turning  of  a 
wheel  will  make  us  vertiginous,  as  if  all  turned 
round.  And  to  pore  too  long  on  the  disordered 
motions,  the  confused  thoughts,  the  wants,  the 
passions  of  our  diseased  minds,  will  but  molest  us, 
and  cast  us  into  greater  disquiet  and  confusion. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4471.)  As  a  general  rule,  self-contemplation  is  a 
power  towards  mischief.  The  only  way  to  grow  is 
to  look  out  of  one's  self.  There  is  too  much  intro- 
version among  Christians.  A  shipmaster  might  as 
well  look  down  into  the  hold  ol  his  ship  for  the 
north  star,  as  a  Christian  look  down  into  his  own 
heart  for  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  Out  and 
beyond  is  the  shining.  — Btecher. 

(4472.)  There  are  many  honest,  earnest,  solemn- 


SELF-EXAMINA  TION. 


{    751     ) 


S/AT. 


minded  men,  who  keep  tliemselves  under  con- 
demnation, as  if  all  tiie  time  God  were  looking  at 
every  deed,  feeling,  or  impulse  of  theirs,  and  as  if 
He  had  no  confidence  in  them  at  all  :  and  they  go 
about  subjecting  themselves  to  an  unwholesome 
introverted  inspection. 

'I'here  was  a  time,  which  I  recollect,  when 
Professor  Hitchcock  delivered  to  the  students  of 
Amherst  College  a  series  of  lectures  on  dyspepsia, 
being  liimself  an  archdyspeptic.  He  taught  them 
that  they  should  weigh  out  their  food,  and  that  so 
many  ounces  of  such  and  such  elements  was  a  suit- 
able meal  for  a  robust  man  ;  and  forthwith  there  was 
a  buying  of  scales,  and  a  weighing  of  bread  and 
meat ;  and  suspicions  were  excited  in  the  minds  of 
the  young  men  as  to  what  each  organ  of  digestion 
was  doing  ;  and  dyspeptics  broke  out  on  every  side  ; 
and  some  of  them  never  got  over  it.  They  had  no 
confidence  in  their  stomachs,  and  felt  that  they 
could  not  trust  them  ;  and  watching  took  the  place 
of  that  forgetfulness  which  is  so  favourable  to  the 
health  of  the  body.  — Beecher. 

(4473.)  By  undue  and  overstrained  self-inspection 
the  mind  is  apt  to  become  morbid  and  depressed, 
and  to  breed  scruples,  which  tease  and  harass  with- 
out producing  any  real  fruit.  The  man  becomes  a 
valetudinarian  in  religion,  full  of  himself,  his  symp- 
toms, his  ailments,  the  delicacy  of  his  moral  health  ; 
and  valetudinarians  are  always  a  plague,  not  only 
to  themselves,  but  to  everybody  connected  with 
them.  —  Gottlbjirn. 

(4474.)  Confession  to  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
that  self-scrutiny  which  must  precede  it,  are  most 
healthful  practices  ;  but  they  require  to  have  their 
tendencies  counterbalanced  and  held  in  equipoise 
by  devotional  exercises  of  a  contrary  kind.  Self- 
introspection  may  easily,  and  will  certainly,  become 
morbid,  il  it  be  not  checked  by  a  constant  outlook- 
ing  of  the  mind.  True  religion  is  all  compiised  in 
two  precepts,  "  Look  into  yourself  to  see  your  own 
vileness.  Look  out  of  yourself  to  Christ."  Little 
enough  health,  comfort,  peace,  and  satisfaction, 
shall  we  derive  from  the  first  of  these  precepts, 
unless  we  constantly  couple  with  it  the  second  in 
parallel  columns. 

Anatomy  schools,  and  the  nauseating  operations 
performed  in  them,  are  absolutely  essential  to  the 
maintenance  of  healtii.  Unless  our  medical  students 
acquaint  themselves  by  dissection  with  the  structure 
of  the  human  frame,  their  practice  will  be  all  in  the 
daik, — uncertain,  emiiirical,  blundering.  But  to 
live  in  an  anatomy  school  would  be  to  inhale  a 
pernicious  atmosphere.  Nay,  open  the  windows, 
and  let  in  the  air  and  light  of  iieaven  ;  and  the 
study  of  the  subject  having  been  completed,  let  the 
student  walk  abroad  and  drink  into  his  constitution 
the  genial  influences  of  nature. 

To  be  ransacking  the  human  structure  all  day, 
useful  as  the  results  may  be,  is  an  exercise  which 
has  morbid  tendencies  that  require  counteraction. 
Learn  a  lesson,  my  hearer,  respecting  that  self- 
inspection  which  both  reason  and  the  Gospel 
recommend.  Live  not  too  much  with  thyself  in 
the  close  chamber  of  spiritual  anatomy.  Doubt 
and  disquietude,  and  subtle  metaphysical  diffi- 
culties, and  over-canvassing  of  motives,  and  splitting 
of  hairs,  will  be  the  least  mischief  resulting  from 
such  a  system.  The  knowledge  and  deep  conscious- 
ness of  thy  dark  guilt  is  only  valu')ble  as  a  back- 


ground, on  which  to  paint  more  vividly  to  thj 
mind's  eye  the  rainbow  colours  of  the  love  of  Jesus. 
Walk  abroad  ever  and  anon,  and  expatiate  freely 
in  the  sunlight  of  God's  grace  and  love  in  Christ. 
It  is  free  as  the  air  to  those  who  would  inhale  it, 
bright  as  the  sunlight  to  those  who  place  no  obstruc- 
tions in  its  way.  Breathe  it,  bask  in  it,  walk  in  it, 
there  is  no  other  mode  of  really  invigorating  cnc 
spiritual  system.  A  religion,  if  it  is  to  be  strong, 
must  be  joyous ;  and  joyous  it  cannot  be  w  ithout 
the  light  of  Gfxl's  love  in  Christ  shining  freely 
into  every  corner  of  the  soul.  — Goulburn. 

4.  The  disparity  between  our  desires  after  hoU- 
ness  and  our  actual  attainments  is  not  to  drive 
us  to  despair. 

(4475.)  Real  saints  are  often  complaining  of  their 
want  of  grace,  and  condemning  themselves  for  their 
not  improving  the  means  of  grace.  Their  desires 
are  ardent  and  ascending  to  perfection,  and  they 
judge  of  their  defects  by  that  measure.  He  that 
sails  before  the  wind  in  a  river,  and  sees  men  walk- 
ing on  the  shore,  to  his  eye  they  seem  to  stand  still, 
because  of  the  swift  motion  of  the  boat.  Thus  the 
saints  judge  of  their  imperfections  by  the  swiftness 
with  wdiich  they  are  carried  forward  in  their  desires 
after  com.plete  holiness.  Thus  easily  may  we 
mistake  in  our  judgment  respecting  the  truth,  or 
strength,  of  grace  in  our  souls.  — Salter. 


SIN. 

I.    A    UNIVERSAL    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

(4476.)  As  light  is  universal,  although  some  may 
shut  their  eyes  close,  and  admit  none  of  it,  so  is 
the  consciousness  of  sin  universal,  although  many 
believe  that  they  have  got  rid  of  it  altogether.  For 
this  very  absence  of  conviction  only  proves  the 
incompleteness  of  their  nature.  They  deceive 
themselves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  them.  They 
have  lost  the  feeling  of  sin  that  was  given  them  as 
a  safeguard.  It  burns  them  like  a  fire  ;  but  their 
skin  has  lost  all  sensation.  They  are  sleeping 
steeped  in  cold  mists  and  poisonous  dews,  but  they 
know  not  the  poison  because  they  are  asleep.  Yet 
fire  burns,  and  poison  destroys  not  the  less  when 
the  senses,  that  are  sentinels  against  them,  desert 
their  posts.  Every  man  whose  nature  is  complete, 
and  awake,  and  active,  knows  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  sin,  and  that  he  is  a  partaker  of  it.  The 
man  who  lias  tried  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  to  pare 
off"  from  his  mind  all  that  does  not  minister  to  one 
chosen  worldly  pursuit,  will  be  able  to  deny  that  he 
is  convinced  of  sin.  But  you  appeal  from  such 
maimed  and  crippled  spirits  to  the  general  sense  of 
more  complete  minds.  And  tlie  result  is  the 
admission  that  there  is  a  better  law,  which  our 
conscience  admits  the  authority  of,  warning  against 
the  law  of  pride,  and  self-will,  and  appetite  withia 
us,  and  that  the  worse  prevails  against  the  better,  and 
that  the  sense  of  disquiet  accompanies  that  wrong 
decision  in  every  case.      — Archbishop  Thomson, 

II.    THE  EVIL  OF  SIN. 

(4477.)  There  are  many  things  that  speak  the 
evil  of  sin,  but  of  all  things  the  blood  of  Jesuj 
speaks  the  evil  of  sin  loudest. 

The  separation  from  God  and  union  with  Satan 
speaks  the  evil  of  sin.  As  by  grace  we  are  united 
unto  God,  made  one  with  God,  and  separated  from 


SIN. 


(    752    ) 


SIN. 


the  devil ;  so  by  sin  we  are  separated  from  God, 
and  united  unto  Satnn,  and  made  one  with  him. 

The  condemnation  of  tlie  whole  world  by  the  sin 
of  Adam  speaks  tlie  evil  of  sin.  If  the  committing 
that  one  sin  brought  condemnation  upon  all  the 
world,  how  great  must  the  evil  of  sin  be  ! 

The  fire  of  hell  speaks  the  evil  of  sin,  for  what 
is  the  fuel  tliat  the  fire  of  hell  feeds  upon  but  sin  ; 
take  sin  away,  and  the  fire  of  hell  will  die,  it  will 
be  quenched. 

The  spoil  of  duties  speaks  it.  One  sinful  thought 
is  enough  to  spoil  a  prayer,  to  spoil  a  duty,  to  spoil 
a  sermon.  And  if  one  drop  of  ink  shall  blacken  a 
whole  glass  of  milk,  how  black  is  that  ink  ! 

The  horror  of  conscience  speaks  it  ;  for  if  but 
one  sin  set  on  upon  the  soul  by  God  doth  put  a  man 
into  such  horror  of  conscience,  how  great  is  the 
evil  of  sin  ! 

The  troublesomeness  of  the  relics  of  sin  in  the 
saint  speaks  it.  Sins  in  the  saints  are  but  wasps 
without  (heir  stings  ;  and  if  the  wasps  without  their 
stings  be  so  troublesome,  how  troublesome  are  the 
wa.>ps  that  have  their  stings  in  them  ;  how  trouble- 
some is  sin  in  itself ! 

But  above  all,  the  blood  of  sprinkling  speaks  the 
evil  of  sin.  For  if  the  guilt  of  sin  be  so  great  that 
nothing  can  satisfy  for  it  but  the  blood  of  Jesus  ; 
and  tht  filtli  of  sin  be  so  great  that  nothing  can 
fetch  out  the  stain  thereof  but  the  blood  of  Jesus, 
how  great,  how  heinous,  how  sinful  must  the  evil 
of  sin  be  1  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

III.    IS  HA  TEFUL  TO  GOD. 
L  As  a  defiance  of  His  authority. 
(4478.)  If  a  king  warns  a  city  of  traitors,  and 

calls  upon  tliem  to  search  them  out  and  send  them 
away,  and  they  never  regard  the  message,  but 
willingly  give  them  harbour  and  entenaimnent,  it 
is  a  sign  tliey  are  disaffected  to  liim.  To  cherish  a 
sin  after  warning  is  an  open  rebellion  against  God. 
— M  anion,  1620- 1667. 

(4479.)  Sin  is  an  attempt  to  control  the  immut- 
able and  unalterable  laws  of  everlasting  righteous- 
ness, goodness,  and  truth,  upon  which  the  universe 
depends.  — I'yhichcote,  1610^1683. 

2.  As  an  infraction  of  the  moral  order  of  the 

iiniverse. 

(4480.)  The  tempter  persuadeth  the  sinner  that 
it  cannot  be  that  God  should  make  so  great  a  matter 
of  sin,  because  the  thoughts  of  a  man's  heart  or  his 
words  or  deeds  are  matter  of  no  great  moment, 
when  man  himself  is  so  poor  a  worm  ;  and  whatever 
he  doth  it  is  no  hurt  to  God.  But  if  God  so  much 
reganls  us  as  to  make  us  and  preserve  us  continually, 
ajid  to  become  our  Go  pernor,  and  make  a  law  for 
us,  and  jutige  us,  and  reward  His  servants  with  no 
less  than  heaven  ;  then  you  may  easily  see  that  He 
6D  much  regardeth  us  as  to  observe  whether  we 
obey  or  break  His  laws.  He  that  so  far  careth  for 
a  clock  or  w  atch  as  to  make  it  and  wind  it  up,  doth 
care  whether  it  go  true  or  false.  What  do  these 
men  make  of  God,  who  think  He  cares  not  what 
men  do  ?  Then  He  cares  not  if  men  beat  you,  or 
rob  you,  or  kill  you — for  none  of  this  hurteth  God  I 
And  the  king  may  say,  "  If  any  murder  your  friends 
and  children,  why  should  I  punish  him,  he  huit  not 
me?"  But  justice  is  to  keep  order  in  the  world, 
and  not  only  to  preserve  the  governor  from  hurt. 
God  may   b?  wronged,   though  He  be  not  hurt. 


And  lie  will  make  you  pay  for  it  if  you  hurt  othenii 
and  smart  for  it  if  you  hurt  yourself. 

—  Baxter,  1 61 5- 1 691. 

3.  Tet  it  does  not  necessarily  cause  Him  to  hat« 
the  sinner. 

(4481.)  Because  sin  is  odious  in  the  sight  of  men, 
we  are  apt  to  think  it  is  odious  in  the  sight  of  God 
in  the  same  way.  Men's  tlioughts  of  each  otlvr's 
sinfulness  are  oftentimes  mingled  with  revenge'ul 
feelings.  But  God's  thoughts  of  our  sinfulness  are 
like  a  mother's  thought  of  the  sinfulness  of  her  dear 
beloved  child.  She  hates  the  sin,  but  loves  the 
child,  and  gives  lierself  for  the  child,  that  she  may 
cleanse  out  the  sin.  When  God  sees  in  us  the  sin 
of  pride,  or  the  sin  of  selfishness,  running  strong 
and  deep.  He  does  not  despise  us.  He  looks  upon 
that  wliich  is  evil  in  us  as  we  look  upon  the  warts 
on  the  rugged  oak.  He  looks  upon  it  as  a  develop- 
ment which  comes  from  supereminent  temptations 
or  constitutional  weaknesses,  and  so  has  compas- 
sion upon  us.  "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children, 
so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  Him.  For  He 
knoweth  our  frame  ;  He  remembereth  that  we  are 
dust."  — Betiher. 

IV.    IS   HURTFUL    TO    MAN. 

1.  It  hopelessly  enslaves  him. 

•  (4482.)  The  way  to  heaven  is  upward,  hard,  and 
difficult  :  the  way  to  hell  is  downward.  Now  he 
that  runs  down  a  hill  cannot  stay  when  he  will,  or 
if  he  set  down  with  himself  how  far  and  where  he 
will  stay,  he  is  not  like  to  observe  it ;  so  in  sin,  he 
cannot  take  upon  himself  when  he  would,  to  say 
thus  far  and  no  further  I  will  sin  ;  for  the  corrup- 
tion of  his  nature  is  as  fierce  horses,  and  the  devil 
as  the  driver ;  he  shall  not  command  himself  when 
he  would,  — Stock,  1568- 1626. 

(4483.)  One  of  the  affecting  features  in  a  life  of 
vice  is  the  longing,  wistful  outlooks  given  by  the 
wretches  who  struggle  with  unbridled  passions, 
towards  virtues  which  are  no  longer  within  theii 
reach.  Men  in  the  tide  of  vice  are  sometimes  like 
the  poor  creatures  swept  down  the  stream  of  mighty 
rivers,  who  see  people  safe  on  shore,  and  trees, 
and  flowers,  as  they  go  quickly  past ;  and  all  things 
that  are  desirable  gleam  upon  them  for  a  moment 
to  heighten  their  trouble,  and  to  aggravate  tlieii 
swift-coming  destruction.  — Beecher. 

(4484.)  It  does  not  signify  to  the  captive  whether 
the  chain  which  fetters  his  body  be  links  of  iron  or 
a  chain  of  gold.  His  captivity  were  a  fact  as  truly 
though  liis  limbs  were  bound  with  silken  cords; 
only  the  former  would  be  more  galling  to  the  flesh, 
harder  to  wear,  and  more  degrading  perhaps  in 
appearance ;  but  the  latter  would  mark  liim  as 
truly  a  slave  in  the  power  of  the  master,  whose  will 
must  be  obeyed,  though  he  rule  "with  a  rod  o\ 
iron." 

Sin  is  the  master  of  the  mind  by  nature  ;  though 
in  some  cases,  it  secures  the  soul  to  the  service  ol 
the  world  by  bonds  as  fine  as  gossamer.  Satan 
forges  some  of  his  chains  of  hard  bondage,  heavy 
as  iron,  strong  as  brass.  In  other  cases  he  binds 
the  heart  with  golden  fetters;  and  thus  gratifies 
pride,  which  assumes  to  be  superior  to  the  poorei 
— though  all  alike  are  his  slaves,  who  are  led 
"  captive  by  the  devil  at  his  will "    (2  Tim.  ii.  26), 

— Bowden. 


SIN. 


(    753    ) 


SIN, 


2.  It  pollutes  and  corrupts  the  soul. 

(4485.)  Impurity  arises  from  the  iron,  and,  having 
arisen  from  it,  it  destroys  it ;  thus  do  a  transgressor's 
own  works  lead  him  to  the  evil  path.  — Buddha. 

(4486.)  Sin  degrades  man  ;  of  an  angel  created 
to  love  God  it  makes  a  demon  who  will  curse  Him 
for  all  eternity.  —  Vianney. 

(4487.)  Sin  is  to  the  soul  like  fire  to  combustible 
matter  :  it  assimilates  before  it  destroys  it. 

— South,  1633-17 16. 

3.  It  forfeits  all  our  claims  upon  God  as  our 
Creator, 

(4488.)  The  relation  of  a  Creator  is  always  very 
strong,  and  before  sin  this  strength  appears  in  love  ; 
but  alter  sin  the  same  strength  vents  itself  in  re- 
venge. Where  it  meets  with  holiness  it  protects ; 
where  it  meets  with  sin  it  destroys  ;  as  the  same 
wind  that  carries  a  ship  well  ballasted,  if  ill- rigged 
or  accoutred,  it  drowns  it.  The  same  strength  of 
constitution  that  keeps  ofif  diseases  from  the  body, 
when  it  comes  to  be  infected,  and  to  comply  with 
a  disease,  quickens  its  dissolution.  The  same  argu- 
ment that  proves  this  assertion,  by  a  subtle  inversion 
t>f  the  terms,  will  prove  the  contrary.  The  same 
•  elation  of  a  Creator  that  endears  God  to  the  inno- 
i-ent,  fires  Him  against  a  sinner.  God  looks  upon 
the  soul  as  Amnon  did  upon  Tamar  :  wliile  it  was 
a  virgin.  He  loved  it  ;  but  now  it  is  deflowered,  He 
hates  it.  We  read  in  the  law  that  he  that  cursed 
his  father  was  to  be  stoned  to  death  ;  we  do  not 
read  that  if  he  had  cursed  another  he  had  been 
dealt  withal  so  severely.  One  would  have  thought 
that  the  nearness  of  a  father  would  have  saved  him  ; 
but  it  was  this  alone  that  condemned  him.  Build 
not,  therefore,  upon  the  sandy  foundation  of  a  false 
surmise  of  God's  mercy  as  a  Creator  ;  for  this  rela- 
tion is  (as  I  may  so  speak)  indifferent,  and  may  be 
determined,  as  to  its  influence,  either  to  be  helpful 
or  destructive,  according  to  the  goodness  or  badness 
of  the  creature.  While  thou  doest  well  it  will 
embrace  thee ;  but  upon  the  least  transgression  it 
will  confound  thee.  The  same  sword  that  now 
hangs  by  thy  side,  and  defends  thee,  may  be  one 
day  brought  to  run  thee  through. 

— South,  1633-17 1 6. 

(4489.)  Sin  disengages  the  love  of  God  to  the 
creature,  because  it  renders  the  creature  usel  ss  as 
to  the  end  for  which  it  was  designed.  Things, 
whose  essence  and  being  stand  in  relation  to  such 
an  end,  have  their  virtue  and  value  from  their  fit- 
ness to  attain  it.  Everything  is  ennobled  from  its 
use,  and  debased  as  far  as  it  is  useless.  As  long  as 
a  man  continues  an  instrument  of  God's  glory,  so 
long  his  title  to  life  and  happiness  stands  sure,  and 
no  longer.  But  now,  sin  in  scripture,  and  in  God's 
account,  is  the  death  of  the  soul.  "  We  were  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins."  Now  death  makes  a  thing 
utterly  useless,  because  it  renders  it  totally  inactive ; 
and  in  things  that  are  naturally  active,  that  which 
deprives  them  of  their  action  bereaves  them  of  their 
use.  The  soul,  by  reason  of  sin,  is  unable  to  act 
spiritually  ;  for  sin  has  disordered  the  soul,  and 
turned  the  force  and  edge  of  all  its  operations 
against  God  ;  so  that  now  it  can  bring  no  glory  to 
God  by  doing,  but  only  by  suffering,  and  being 
made  miserable.  It  is  now  unfit  to  oljey  His  com- 
mands, and  fit  only  to  endure  His  strokes.  It  is 
incapable   by  ^ny  activs  communion  or  converse 


with  Him  to  enjoy  His  love,  and  a  proper  object 

only  to  bear  His  anger  and  revenge.  We  may 
take  the  case  in  this  similitude.  A  physician  has 
a  servant ;  while  this  servant  lives  honestly  with 
him,  he  is  fit  to  be  used  and  to  be  employed  in  his 
occasions ;  but  if  this  servant  should  commit  a 
felony,  and  for  that  be  condemned,  he  can  then  be 
actively  serviceable  to  him  no  longer  ;  he  is  fit  only 
for  him  to  dissect,  and  make  an  object  upon  whit  h 
to  show  the  experiments  of  his  skill.  So  while 
man  was  yet  innocent  he  was  fit  to  be  used  by  God 
in  a  way  of  active  obedience  ;  but  now  having  sinned, 
and  being  sentenced  by  the  law  to  death  as  a  male- 
factor, he  is  a  fit  matter  only  for  God  to  torment 
and  show  the  wonders  of  His  vindictive  justice. 
— South,  1 633-1 7 16. 

4.  It  Is  the  source  of  all  temporal  evil. 

(4490.)  Sin  produceth  all  temporal  evil  (Lam.  i. 
8).  Jerusalem  hath  grievously  sinned,  therefore  she 
is  removed.  It  is  the  Trojan  horse,  it  hath  sword 
and  famine  and  pestilence  in  the  belly  of  it. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

V.  ITS  DECEITFULNESS. 
(4491.)  What  is  the  reason  that  so  many  make 
a  mock  of  sin,  and  dance  merrily  over  the  infernal 
pit,  and  play  with  the  unquenchable  fire,  but 
Ignorance  ?  The  child  doth  not  know  that  the 
fire  will  burn  him.  As  the  horse,  they  rush  into 
the  battle,  fighting  against  God  and  their  souls,  not 
knowing  it  will  be  to  their  destruction.  These 
Balaams  run  greedily  after  the  wages  of  unright- 
eousness, not  seeing  the  angel  that  standeth  in  the 
way  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand  ready  to  kilt 
them.  Did  they  know  what  they  do  when  they 
wilfully  break  God's  law,  they  would  sooner  leap 
into  a  furnace  of  scalding  lead  than  provoke  so 
jealous  a  God.  But  sin  goeth  in  a  disguise,  and 
thence  is  welcome  ;  like  Judas,  it  kisseth  and  kills; 
like  Joab,  it  salutes  and  slays.  The  foolish  sinner 
seeth  the  pleasant  streams  of  Jordan,  but  not  the 
Dead  Sea  into  which  they  will  certainly  empty 
themselves  to  his  ruin.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4492.)  It  is  the  act  of  lust  to  show  the  quint- 
essence and  the  refined  part  of  a  sinful  action, 
separate  from  all  its  dregs  and  indecencies,  so  to 
recommend  it  to  the  apprehension  of  a  deluded 
sinner.  It  will  present  you  only  with  the  fair  "side, 
and  tell  you  what  pleasure  and  satisfaction  you 
shall  reap  from  such  or  such  an  action  :  but  it 
never  reminds  you  of  the  regret  and  remorse  of 
conscience  that  will  accompany  it  ;  of  the  shame 
and  vengeance  that  will  follow  it.  No  ;  lust  is  too 
skilful  a  sophister,  and  has  at  least  this  part  of 
perfection,  to  conceal  its  imperfections. 

Lust  never  deals  impartially  with  the  choice,  so 
as  to  confront  the  whole  good  with  the  whole  evil 
of  an  object  ;  but  declaims  amply  and  magnificently 
of  one,  while  it  is  wholly  silent  of  the  other.  And 
it  is  observable  that  there  are  few  things  that 
present  so  entirely  bad  an  appearance  but  admit  of 
very  plausible  pleas  and  flourishes  of  commendation. 
Sin  prevails  upon  the  affections,  not  so  much  by 
the  suitableness  of  the  thing  proposed  as  by  the 
art  of  the  proposal. 

As  for  instance,  should  I  tell  a  thirsty  man  that 
I  had  for  him  a  drink  of  a  noble  C(dour,  a  quick 
taste,  and  a  fragrant  smell,  surely  there  could  be 
nothing    in    this   description    but   must    raise   and 

3  B 


SIN. 


(    754    ) 


SIN. 


Inflame  his  appetite  :  but  should  I  tell  him  that  it 
was  poison  that  was  of  this  so  rare  a  taste,  colour, 
and  smell,  this  would  be  a  full  allay  to  his  desire, 
and  a  sufficient  countercharm  to  all  its  other 
alluring  qualities. 

It  is  no  question  but  Judas'  covetousiiess 
addressed  his  sin  to  him  in  this  manner,  and 
Struck  his  apprehension  with  the  convenience  of 
having  so  much  money,  and  gaining  it  with  so 
much  ease  ;  but  it  told  him  nothing  of  the  black 
despair  and  the  disastrous  death  that  was  to  follow 
it.  For  had  this  been  offered  to  his  thouj^Iits  at  the 
same  time,  it  is  no  doubt  but  it  must  have  dashed 
the  temptation,  and  made  it  cheap  and  contemptible. 
— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

(4493.)  The  wages  that  sin  bargains  with  the 
sinner  are  life,  pleasure,  and  profit  ;  but  the  wages 
it  pays  him  with  are  death,  torment,  and  destruc- 
tion :  he  that  would  understand  the  falsehood  and 
deceit  of  sin  thoroughly  must  compare  its  promises 
and  its  payments  together, 

— South,  1633-1716, 

(4494.)  The  approaches  of  sin  are  like  the  con- 
duct of  Jael.  It  "brings  butter  in  a  lordly  dish." 
It  bids  high  for  the  soul.  But  when  it  has  fasci- 
nated and  lulled  the  victim,  the  nail  and  the  hammer 
are  behind.  — Cecil,  1748-1S10. 

(4495.)  Sin  always  has  two  aspects — distinct  and 
contrasting  aspects  :  the  one  is  that  which  she 
assumes  before  her  end  is  gained  and  the  deed  done; 
and  the  other,  that  which  she  puts  on  after  she  has 
ensnared  her  dupe,  and  hung  her  fetters  on  his 
soul.  How  musical  in  the  ear  of  Judas  was  the 
jingle  of  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  while  the  bribe 
was  dangling  in  the  purse  of  the  treasurer  of  the 
chief  prifsts  and  elders  !  Yet  how  dull  and  tinsel 
was  its  ling  as  he  dashed  them  down  upon  the 
table  in  his  agony,  after  their  lustre  had  been  tar- 
nished by  the  tinge  of  harmless  blood  1  How  fair 
was  the  enchantress  when  she  came  to  him  with 
her  promises  ;  yet  how  hard  and  haggard  was  her 
mocking  features  when  the  mask  had  fallen  and 
the  real  face  was  seen  !  And  is  it  not  always  so? 
Have  not  you  found  it  so  every  time  you  have 
dallied  with  the  charmer,  and  listened  to  her  voice?. 
There's  many  a  deadly  poison  which  is  pleasant  to 
the  taste  ;  there's  many  a  fatal  lullaby  which  is 
cliaiming  to  the  ear ;  there's  many  a  Dead  Sea 
api^le  which  is  tempting  to  the  eye ;  there's  many 
a  cruel  hand  which  is  soft  as  velvet.  Sin  is  a  syren 
while  she  tempts,  but  an  ugly  raw-boned  hag  when 
she  has  her  prey  within  her  toils.  Those  tresses 
which  appear  so  comely  may  change  to  snakes  to 
sting  the  hand  which  smoothes  them  ;  those  dove- 
like, winsome  eyes  that  swim  so  wantonly,  shall 
flash  like  basilisks  upon  you  if  you  are  captivated 
by  their  blandishments;  the  bloom  upon  those  lips 
is  painted  to  decoy  the  heady  trifler,  and  the  kiss 
of  lust  imprinted  there  shall  wash  away  the  lying 
bloom,  and  show  the  livid,  corpse-like  grin  of  the 
death's-head.  There  is  said  to  have  been  kept  in 
the  halls  of  the  Inquisition  a  beauteous  statue  or 
effigy  of  a  "irgin  ;  the  painter's  tenderest  strokes 
of  art  had  been  expended  to  give  loveliness  to  the 
face,  and  the  sculptor's  utmost  skill  had  been 
enlisted  to  add  charm  to  charm  in  the  rounded 
moulding  of  form  and  limb.  The  white  arms 
were  undraped  and  extended  wide,  as  though  to 
embrace ;  the  eye  and  lip,  at  d  the  whole  attitude 


were  full  of  winning  invitation  :  and  the  professing 
penitent  was  led  into  this  fair  presence,  and  com- 
manded to  advance  and  embrace  the  figure.  As 
soon  as  he  drew  near  to  meet  that  bending  neck 
and  stooping  smile,  the  fair  white  arms  encircled 
him — not  with  the  caress  of  love,  but  with  the  vice- 
like clutch  of  vengeance,  and  the  bosom  opened, 
and  the  lips  expanded,  and  a  hundred  gleaming 
knives  shot  from  the  virgin  figure,  transfixing  the 
victim  with  a  hundred  scarlet  stabs ;  the  parted 
lips  pushed  forth  a  barbed  tongue,  and  showed 
fanged  teeth  to  lacerate  and  tear  : — in  short,  the 
beauty  was  transformed  into  a  beast,  the  fairy  form 
became  an  armoury  of  poignards,  whose  every 
charm  concealed  a  dagger,  and  whose  every  grace 
was  death.  And  so  it  is  with  sin.  Decking  her 
bed  with  roses,  she  merges  her  poison-breath 
amidst  their  fragrance,  and  lulls  her  silly  victim 
with  a  counterfeit  repose.  Oh,  rest  not  on  her 
pillow,  for  a  serpent  coils  beneath  it  I  Wander 
not  amidst  her  bowers,  for  wasps  are  honeying 
amidst  her  blossoms  and  leaving  their  stings  in 
the  core  of  all  her  fruits.  Recline  not  upon  the 
sunny  knolls,  for  volcanic  lava  lurks  under  the 
moss,  and  the  fire  of  hell  lights  up  her  transient 
heaven.  "My  son,  when  sinners  entice  thee,  con- 
sent thou  not."  — Mursell. 

VI.  ITS   FOLLY. 

(4496.)  If  a  man  is  safe  in  sailing  against  God'a 
laws  and  everything  that  is  good,  how  much  more 
will  God  prosper  him  if  he  applies  to  legitimate 
commerce  the  same  skill  and  enterprise  and  in- 
dustry that  he  is  now  applying  to  that  which  is 
illegitimate.  I  have  seen  men  work  ten  times  as 
hard  to  be  villains  as  they  would  have  been  obliged 
to  work  to  be  honest  men.  The  greatest  slaves  I 
know  anything  about  are  those  whom  the  devil 
has  got  the  upper  hand  of,  and  whom  he  is  com- 
pelling to  dodge  between  the  supreme  law  of  God 
and  their  worldly  prosperity.  They  may  secure 
some  sort  of  prosperity,  but  you  may  depend  upon 
it  they  work  hard  for  it. 

There  was  a  man  in  the  town  where  I  was  born, 
who  used  to  steal  all  his  firewood.  He  would  get 
up  on  cold  nights,  and  go  and  take  it  fmm  his 
neighijours'  woodpiles.  A  computation  was  made, 
and  it  was  ascertained  that  he  spent  more  time,  and 
worked  harder,  to  get  his  fuel  than  he  would  have 
been  obliged  to  if  he  had  earned  it  in  an  honest 
way,  and  at  ordinary  wages.  And  this  thief  was  a 
type  of  thousands  of  men  who  work  a  great  deal 
harder  to  please  the  devil  than  they  would  have  to 
work  to  please  God.  — Beecher. 

VII.  REASONS   FOR    SHUNhriNG  IT. 

1.  Because  when  it  lias  once  ensnared  us,  escape 
may  be  impossible. 

(4497.)  Sin  weaves  its  twining  and  embracing 
tendrils  round  about  the  heart.  In  their  growth 
they  may  seem  weak  ;  and  on  account  of  their  little- 
ness and  tenderness  not  sufficiently  worth  our  present 
serious  attention,  because  we  think  at  any  spare 
moment  we  can  take  the  pruning-knife  and  lop 
them  off  with  ease.  So  sin,  like  the  deadly  ivy,  ia 
its  growth  escapes  our  notice  ;  its  branches  are  thin 
and  frail  and  withal  green  and  fair  to  look  upon. 
But  pause  awhile  1  The  budding  shoot  to-day  is 
next  year  the  stitf  and  stubborn  branch,  and  there 
are  ten  thousand  little  tendrils  clinging  and  growing 


SIN. 


(    755     ) 


SFM. 


into  the  bark  of  the  noble  tree,  around  which  the 
ivy  is  stealthily  springing  up  :  its  leaves  are  darken- 
ing, it  is  becoming  gloomy,  and  rugged,  and  stub- 
born. True,  at  the  extremities  it  looks  tender,  and 
verdant,  and  harmless  ;  but  it  is  making  its  way, 
creeping  on  and  on,  and  up  and  up.  Did  it  ap- 
proach the  head  of  the  forest  tree  with  a  hard  and 
stubborn  stalk  it  would  take  no  hold.  The  leafy 
monarch  would  spurn  the  rude  assault  from  its  broad 
and  gnarled  front ;  but  it  steals  softly,  and  even 
gracefully,  into  his  breast ;  closes  around  him  with 
a  tender  embrace,  and  then,  fiom  its  roots  beginning 
to  call  up  its  sap  and  latent  vigour,  it  swells  and 
extends,  then  darkens,  hardens  ;  its  grip  becomes 
irresistible ;  the  tree's  action  grows  less  and  less 
free ;  every  day  its  waving  arms  gradually  cease 
to  wave ;  the  free  air  and  light  becomes  shut  from 
its  stem  and  branches ;  it  is  covered  with  a  dull, 
thick  drapery  of  leaves  that  obstructs  its  growth. 
So  gradually  its  sap  withers  away  ;  branch  after 
branch  decays ;  its  noble  stem  betrays  rottenness 
and  infirmity,  until  at  length  the  lord  of  the  land 
passes  by  and  says,  '*  Cut  it  down  ;  why  cumbereth 
it  the  ground  ?" 

It  is  thus  sin  engrafts  itself  upon  the  tree  of  our 
life,  and  men  too  commonly  let  it  grow  on  and  on, 
until  their  own  free  action  becomes  subject  to  the 
slavery  of  hell.  — BelUw. 

(4498.)  In  the  gardens  of  Hampton  Court  you 
will  see  many  trees  entirely  vanquished  and  well- 
nigh  strangled  by  huge  coils  of  ivy,  which  are 
wound  about  them  like  the  snakes  around  the 
unhappy  Laocoon :  there  is  no  untwisting  the  folds, 
they  are  too  giant-like  and  fast  fixed,  antl  every 
hour  the  rootlets  of  the  climber  are  sucking  the  life 
out  of  the  unhappy  tree.  Yet  there  was  a  d.iy  when 
the  ivy  was  a  tiny  aspirant,  only  asking  a  little  aid 
in  climbing  ;  had  it  been  denied  then,  the  tree  had 
never  become  its  victim,  but  by  degrees  the  humble 
weakling  grew  in  strength  and  arrogance,  and  at 
last  it  assumed  the  mastery,  and  the  tall  tree  became 
the  prey  of  the  creeping,  insinuating  destroyer. 
The  moral  is  too  obvious.  Sorrowiully  do  we 
remember  many  noble  characters  which  have  been 
ruined  little  and  little  by  insinuating  habits.  Drink 
has  been  the  ivy  in  many  cases.  Reader,  see  to  it, 
lest  some  slowly-advancing  sin  overpower  you  : 
men  who  were  murdered  by  slow  poisoning  die  just 
as  surely  as  those  who  take  arsenic. 

— Spurgeon. 

(4499.)  It  has  been  related  by  a  French  writer 
that  the  captain  of  a  vessel  was  one  day  walking 
carelessly  along  by  the  side  of  a  river,  not  far  Irom 
its  mouth,  at  low  water.  As  he  looked  about  him, 
not  minding  his  steps,  he  did  not  see  extended 
before  him  a  great  chain,  one  end  of  which  was 
fastened  to  a  ring  fixed  in  a  stone  on  the  bank,  the 
other  to  an  anchor  sunk  in  the  river.  Not  seeing 
it,  he  stumbled  against  it,  and  his  foot  passing 
through  one  of  the  links  of  the  chain,  he  could  not 
draw  it  back  again.  He  struggled  violently  to 
extricate  himself ;  he  turned  his  foot  first  on  one 
side,  and  then  on  the  otlier,  but  all  in  vain.  He 
then  called  out  for  help,  and  some  men  who  were 
passing  heard  him  and  liastened  to  his  assistance. 

They  strained  every  nerve  to  drag  the  foot 
through  the  chain,  but  it  was  beginning  to  swell, 
and  all  their  ettorts  were  in  vain.  Wh.-'t  was  to  be 
doiit  ?     To  unfasten  or   take  away  the  chain  was 


impossible.  It  was  a  mass  of  iron  which  could 
only  be  moved  wiih  the  help  of  a  capstan  ;  and 
there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  for  the  tide  was 
conung  in,  and  the  water  rose  every  moment. 
"  Let  us  call  a  sndth  to  saw  the  chain,"  said  the 
men  to  each  other,  and  oi.e  of  them  was  despatched 
to  the  nearest  village,  which  was  at  a  distance  ol 
two  or  three  miles  Irom  the  spot.  The  smith  came, 
but  it  was  found  that  the  tools  he  had  brought  with 
him  were  not  powerhil  enough,  and  he  was  oMiged 
to  go  back  to  the  village  for  others.  At  last  he 
returned. 

In  the  meantime  the  tide  had  risen,  the  mighty 
waves  were  rolling  in,  and  the  water,  which  at  first 
had  barely  wet  his  feet,  had  now  reached  the 
unfortunate  man's  waist  ;  the  men  wdio  had  come 
to  his  assistance  had  been  forced  to  get  into  a  boat, 
and  the  smith  saw  he  could  do  nothing  for  him. 
What  was  to  be  done?  Oh,  t^ie  agony  of  that 
moment  1  There  is  one  last  resource,  only  one, 
but  it  is  a  terrible  one.  He  must  sacrifice  his  leg 
to  save  his  life.  Will  he  do  it  ?  Yes,  he  will 
sacrifice  anything,  everything  to  escape  death. 

A  surgeon  is  sought  without  a  moment's  delay  ; 
he  comes  in  hot  haste,  bringing  his  case  of  instru- 
ments and  everything  necessary  for  the  operation. 
The  unhappy  man  sees  him  approaching.  "  Oh  do 
not  lose  a  moment,"  he  cries;  "cut  off  my  leg, 
doctor,  and  save  my  life."  But  when  the  doctor 
reached  the  spot,  he  was  obliged  to  get  into  a  boat, 
and  it  was  only  by  strong  strokes  ol  the  oars  that 
he  could  get  near  the  man  ;  the  water  had  reached 
his  neck,  and  with  great  trouble  they  kept  his  head 
above  water.  "  It  is  too  late,"  cried  the  doctor, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  waves  rolled  over  the 
unhappy  man's  head — he  was  lost. 

Reader,  this  terrible  story  may  be  useful  to  us  as 
acompaiison.  You,  like  this  man,  go  lorih  ni  the 
mornmg  of  life  light-hearted  and  happy.  The 
cham,  which  through  carelessness  he  does  not  see, 
is  the  snare  which  Satan  spreads  for  you.  The 
ring  in  which  his  loot  is  cauglu  is  sin.  lie  believes 
that  he  will  easily  free  linnself  from  it,  but  he 
deceives  himself.  The  rising  tide  is  death,  which 
is  approaching.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost  ; 
every  passing  hour  renders  the  chain  of  sin  stronger, 
salvation  more  uncertain.  What  will  become  of 
you  ?  No  boat  in  the  world  can  save  you  ;  no 
sndth  has  power  to  sunder  that  chain  ;  there  is  no 
surgeon  skilful  enough  to  sever  that  which  binds 
you  to  your  sin.      What  will  become  of  you  ? 

There  is  a  Saviour,  one  only — Jesus  is  His  name. 
He  can  save  you,  deliver  you,  set  you  free.  Turn 
unto  Him,  call  upon  Him  for  help  ;  do  not  delay, 
for  time  is  passing. 

2.  Because  when  it  has  once  ensnared  U8,  Mha 
very  desire  to  escape  may  be  lest. 

(4500.)  Heaven  is  compared  to  a  hill :  and  there- 
fore is  figured  by  Olympus  among  the  heathen  ; 
by  Mount  Zion,  in  God's  Book  :  Hell,  contrariwise 
to  a  pit.  The  ascent  to  the  one  is  hard,  therefore; 
and  the  descent  of  the  other,  easy  and  headlong  : 
and  so,  as  if  we  once  begin  to  lall,  the  recovery  is 
most  difficult ;  and  not  one  of  many  stays  till  he 
comes  to  the  bottom.  1  will  be  content  to  pant 
and  blow,  and  sweat  in  climbing  up  to  heaven  : 
as,  contrarily,  I  will  be  wary  ol  setting  the  first 
step  downward  towards  the  pit.  For,  as  there  is 
a  Jacob's  ladder  into  heaven,  so  there  are  blind 
stairs  that  go  winding  down  into  death,  wheieol 


SIN. 


(    7S6    ) 


SIN. 


each  makes  way  for  otlier.  From  the  object  is 
rai>eil  an  ill  suggestion,  suggestion  draws  on 
.Icli^^ht;  delight,  consent;  consent,  endeavour; 
tndcavour,  practice ;  practice,  custom ;  custom, 
excuse ;  excuse,  defence ;  defence,  obstinacy ; 
obstinacy,  boasting  of  sin ;  boasting  a  reprobate 
sense.  I  will  watch  over  my  ways  :  and  do  Thou, 
Lord,  watch  over  me,  that  1  may  avoid  the  first 
degrees  of  sin.  And,  if  those  overtake  my  frailty, 
yet,  keep  me,  that  presumptuous  sins  prevail  not 
over  me.  Jieginnings  are  witli  more  ease  and 
safety  declined  v/hen  we  are  free,  than  proceedings 
when  we  have  begun.  — Hal/,  1574-1656. 

(4501.)  Once  upon  the  inclined  road  of  error, 
and  there  is  no  swiltness  so  tremendous  as  that 
with  which  we  dash  adown  the  plane,  no  insensi- 
bility so  obstinate  as  that  which  fastens  on  us 
through  the  quiclt  descent.  The  start  once  made, 
and  tiiere  is  ni^i-.her  stopping  nor  waking  until  the 
last  and  lowest  depth  is  sounded.  Our  natural 
fears  and  promptings  become  hushed  with  tiie  first 
impetus,  and  we  are  lost  to  everything  but  the 
delusive  tones  of  sin,  which  only  cheat  the  senses 
and  make  our  misery  harmonious.  Farewell  all 
opportunities  of  escape — the  strivings  of  conscience 
—  tlie  faithful  whisperings  of  shame,  which  served 
us  even  when  we  stood  trembling  at  the  fatal  point! 
Farewell  the  holy  power  of  viitue,  which  made  foul 
things  look  hideous,  and  good  things  lovely,  and 
kept  a  guard  about  our  hearts  to  welcome  beauty 
and  frighten  off  deformity  1  Farewell  integrity — 
joy — rest — and  happiness. 

—Melvill,  1 7 98- 1 87 1. 

3  Because  even  if  we  escape  from  It,  some  of 
Its  effects  are  eternal. 

(4502.)  The  mind  of  man  has  been  compared  to 
a  white  sheet  of  paper.  Now  it  is  like  a  white 
sheet  »l  paper  in  this,  that  whatever  we  write  upon 
it,  wlu'lier  with  distinct  purpose  or  no,  nay,  every 
drop  ol  ink  we  let  fall  upon  it,  makes  an  abiding 
marl:,  a  mark  which  we  cannot  rub  out,  without 
much  injury  to  the  paper;  unless  indeed  the  mark 
has  been  very  slight  Irom  the  first,  and  we  set 
about  erasing  it  while  it  is  fresh.  In  one  of  the 
grandest  tragedies  of  our  great  English  poet,  there 
is  a  scene  which,  when  one  reads  it,  is  enough  to 
make  one's  blood  run  cold.  A  woman,  whose 
husband  had  made  himself  king  of  Scotland  by 
means  of  several  n.arders,  and  who  had  been  the 
prompter  and  partner  of  his  crimes,  is  brought  in, 
while  in  her  sleep,  and  continually  rubbing  her 
hands,  as  though  slie  were  washing  them,  crying 
ever  and  anon,  *'  Vet  here's  a  spot.  .  .  .  What ! 
wid  these  hands  ne'er  be  clean  ?  ,  .  .  here's  the 
cniell  of  blood  still :  all  the  perfumes  of  Arabia 
will  not  sweeten  tlii-,  little  hand."  In  these  words 
there  is  an  awful  power  of  truth.  We  can  stain 
our  souls  ;  we  can  dye  them,  and  double-dye  them, 
ami  triple-dye  them ;  we  can  dye  them  all  the 
colours  of  hell's  rainbow ;  but  we  cannot  wash 
them  white.  All  the  perlumes  of  Arabia  will  not 
sweeten  them,  all  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep 
will  not  wash  one  little  spot  out  of  them.  The 
usurping  Queen  of  Scotland  had  been  guilty  of 
murder  ;  a. id  the  stain  ot  blood,  it  has  been  very 
generally  believed,  cannot  be  washed  out.  But  it 
is  not  the  stain  of  blood  aione  ;  every  stain  soils 
the  soul  ,  and  none  of  them  can  be  washed  out. 
Every  liiile  speck  -f  ink  eats  into  the  paper ;  every 


sin,  however  small  we  may  deem  it,  eats  into  the 
soul.  If  we  try  to  write  over  it,  we  make  a  deeper 
blot ;  if  we  tiy  to  scratch  it  out,  the  next  letters  which 
we  write  on  the  spot  are  blurred.  Therefore  is  it  of 
such  vast  importance  that  we  should  be  very  care- 
ful of  what  we  write.  In  the  tragedy  which  I  was 
quoting  just  now,  the  Queen  says,  "  What's  done 
cannot  be  undone."  This  amounts  to  the  same 
thing  as  what  1  have  written,  in  the  sense  in  which 
I  am  now  calling  upon  you  to  consider  these  words. 
What's  done  cannot  be  undone.  You  know  that 
this  is  true.  You  know  you  cannot  push  back  the 
wheels  of  time,  and  make  yesterday  come  again,  so 
as  to  do  over  afresh  what  you  did  wrongly  then. 
That  which  you  did  yesterday,  yesterday  will  keep  : 
you  cannot  change  it ;  you  cannot  make  it  less  or 
greater ;  if  it  was  crooked,  you  cannot  make  it 
straight.  You  cannot  turn  back  the  leaves  in  the 
book  of  life,  and  read  the  lesson  you  have  grabbed 
over  again.  That  which  you  have  written,  you 
have  written  :  that  which  you  have  done,  you  have 
done  ;  and  you  cannot  uuwrite  or  undo  it. 

— Hare,  1796-1834. 

(4503.)  Even  pardoned  sins  must  leave  a  trace  in 
heavy  self-rejnoach.  You  have  heard  of  the  child 
whose  father  told  him  that  whenever  he  did  any- 
thing wrong  a  nail  should  be  driven  into  a  post, 
and  when  he  did  what  was  good  he  might  pull  one 
out.  There  were  a  great  many  nails  driven  into 
the  post,  but  the  child  tried  very  hard  to  get  the 
post  cleared  of  the  nails  by  striving  to  do  right. 
At  length  he  was  so  successful  in  his  struggles  with 
himself  that  the  la.it  nail  was  drawn  out  of  the  post. 
The  father  was  just  about  to  praise  the  child,  when, 
stooping  down  to  kiss  him,  he  was  startled  to  see 
tears  fast  rolling  down  his  face.  "Why,  my  boy, 
why  do  you  cry  ?  Are  not  all  the  nails  gone  from 
the  post?"  "Oh  yes!  the  nails  are  all  gone,  but 
the  marks  are  left."  That  is  a  iamiliar  illustration, 
but  don't  despise  it  because  of  that.  It  illustrates 
the  experience  of  many  a  grey  old  sire,  who,  look- 
ing upon  the  traces  of  his  old  sins,  as  they  yet  rankle 
in  his  conscience,  would  give  a  hundred  worlds  to 
live  hiinself  back  into  young  manhood,  that  he 
might  obliterate  the  searing  imprint  of  its  follies. 
Have  you  never  heard  of  fossil-rain?  In  the 
stratum  of  the  old  red  sandstone  there  are  to  be 
seen  the  marks  of  showers  of  rain  which  fell  cen- 
turies and  centuries  ago,  and  they  are  so  plain  and 
perfect  that  they  clearly  indicate  the  way  the  wind 
was  drifting,  and  in  what  direction  the  tempest 
slanted  from  the  sky.  So  may  the  tracks  of  youth- 
ful sins  be  traced  upon  the  tablet  of  the  life 
when  it  has  merged  into  old  age, — tracks  which  it 
is  bitter  and  sad  remorse  to  look  upon,  and  which 
call  forth  many  a  bootless  longing  for  the  days  and 
months  which  are  past.  — Mursell. 

VIII.    ONE   SIN. 

1.  Is  a  transgression  of  the  whole  law. 

(4504.)  He  that  yields  to  one  sin  casts  contempt 
upon  the  authority  that  made  the  whole  law,  and 
upon  this  account  breaks  it  all.  "  Whosoever  shall 
keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet  offend  in  one  point,  he 
is  guilty  of  all,"  and  he  gives  the  reason  in  the  next 
words,  "  For  He  that  said,  Do  not  commit  adultei7, 
said  also.  Do  not  kill.  Now  if  thou  commit  no 
adultery,  yet  if  thou  kill,  thou  art  a  transgressor  of 
the  law."    Not  that  he  is  guilty  of  all  distributively, 


SIN. 


(    757    ) 


sm. 


but  collectively,  as  Estius  well  notes.  For  the  law 
is  one  copulative  ;  one  commandment  cannot  be 
wronged,  but  all  are  interested  in  the  same ;  as  the 
whole  body  saffers  by  a  wound  given  to  one  part, 
"  God  spake  all  these  words  :  "  they  are  ten  words, 
but  one  law.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4505.)  Consider  what  thou  dost  before  thou 
graiitiest  Satan  in  any  one  motion  ;  for  by  one  sin 
ihou  strengthenest  the  whole  body  of  sin.  Give  to 
one  sin,  and  that  will  send  mure  beggars  to  your 
door,  and  they  will  come  with  a  stronger  plea  than 
the  former  ;  another,  why  mayest  thou  not  do  this 
for  them  as  well  as  that  ?  Thy  best  way  is  to  keep 
the  door  shut  to  all,  lest,  while  thou  intendest  to 
entertain  only  one,  all  crowd  in  with  it.  But  if  it 
were  possible  that  thou  couldsl  break  this  connection 
of  sin,  so  as  to  take  off  one  link  that  pleaseth  thee 
best,  and  not  draw  the  whole  chain  after  thee  by 
commiiting  this,  yet  know  there  is  a  connection  of 
guilt  also.  "  Whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole  law, 
and  yet  offend  in  one  point,  he  is  guilty  of  all." 
A  man  cannot  stab  any  part  of  the  face,  but  he  will 
disfigure  the  whole  countenance,  and  wrong  the 
whole  man.  Thus  the  law  is  copulative  ;  an  affront 
done  to  one  redounds  to  the  dishonour  of  all,  and 
so  is  resented  by  God  the  law-giver,  whose  autho- 
rity is  equally  in  all.  — Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(4506.)  A  man  that  breaks  one  point  of  God's 
law,  breaks  it  all.  "  If  thou  commit  no  adultery, 
yet  if  thou  kill  thou  art  become  a  transgressor," — 
of  the  single  commandment  ?  No  !  thou  art  a 
transgressor  "of  the  whole  law  "  I  Like  some  of 
those  creeping  weeds  that  lie  underground  and  put 
up  a  little  leaf  here  and  another  one  there ;  and  you 
dig  down  fancying  that  their  roots  are  short,  but 
you  find  that  they  go  creeping  and  tortuous  below 
the  surface,  and  tlie  whole  soil  is  full  of  them, — so 
all  sin  holds  on  by  one  root.  — Maclaren, 

%,  Makes  way  for  more. 

(4507.)  One  sin  keeps  up  the  devil's  interest;  it 
is  like  a  nest  egg  lelt  there  to  draw  a  new  temptation. 
— JManton,  1620-1667. 

(4508.)  By  allowing  one  sin,  we  disarm  and 
deprive  ourselves  of  having  a  conscientious  argument 
to  defend  ourselves  against  any  other  sin.  He  that 
can  go  against  his  conscience  in  one,  cannot  plead 
conscience  against  any  other  ;  for  if  the  authority  of 
God  awes  hiin  irom  one,  it  will  from  all.  "  How 
can  I  do  this,  and  sin  against  God?"  said  Joseph. 
1  doubt  not  but  his  answer  would  liave  been  the 
same  if  his  mistress  had  bid  him  to  lie  for  her,  as 
now  when  she  enticed  him  to  lie  with  her.  The 
ninth  commandment  would  have  bound  him  as  well 
as  the  seventh.  Hence  the  Apostle  exhorts  "not 
to  give  place  to  the  devil."  Implying,  by  yielding 
to  one,  we  lose  our  ground,  and  what  we  lose  he 
gains  ;  and  let  him  alone  to  improve  advantages. 
I'he  little  wimble  once  entered,  tlie  workman  can 
then  drive  a  great  nail.  One  sin  will  widen  thy 
swallow  a  little,  that  thou  wilt  not  so  much  strain 
at  the  next.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4509.)  One  sin  inclineth  the  mind  to  more.     If 
one  thief  be  in  the  house,  he  will  let  in  the  test, 
because  they  have  the  same  disposition  and  tiesign. 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 


3.  Proves  the  whole  bent  of  the  heart  and  lUlk 
to  be  sinful. 

(4510.)  "But,"  saith  the  tempter,  "it  is  but  one 
sin,  and  the  rest  of  thy  life  is  good  and  blameless; 
and  God  judgeth  by  the  greater  pait  of  thy  life 
whether  the  evil  or  the  good  be  mo.-,t." 

Answer.  If  a  man  be  a  muidere;,  cr  a  traitor, 
will  you  excuse  him  because  the  rest  of  his  life  is 
good,  and  it  is  but  one  sin  that  he  is  charged  wi.^n? 
One  sort  of  poison  may  kill  a  man  ;  and  one  stab  at 
the  heart,  though  all  his  body  else  be  whole  :  you 
may  surfeit  on  one  dish :  one  leak  may  sink  a  ship. 
"  Whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet 
offend  in  one  point,  is  guilty  of  all"  (Jamts  ii.  10). 
Indeed  God  doth  judge  by  the  bent  of  thy  heart 
and  the  main  drift  and  endeavour  of  thy  life.  But 
canst  thou  say  that  the  bent  of  thy  heart  and  the 
main  endeavour  of  thy  life  is  for  God,  and  heaven, 
and  holiness?  No  ;  if  it  were,  thou  wert  regenerate; 
and  this  would  not  let  thee  live  in  any  one  beloved, 
chosen,  wilful  sin.  The  bent  of  a  man's  heart  and 
life  may  be  sinful,  earthly,  fleshly,  tiiough  it  run 
but  in  the  channel  of  one  way  of  gross  sinning  !  As 
a  man  may  be  covetous  that  hath  but  one  trade  ; 
and  a  whoremonger  that  liath  but  one  whore  ;  and 
an  idolator  that  hath  but  one  idol.  If  thou  lovedst 
God  better,  thou  wouldst  let  go  thy  sin  ;  and  if  thou 
love  any  one  sin  better  than  God,  the  whole  bent  of 
thy  heart  and  life  is  wicked  :  for  it  is  not  set  upoD 
God  and  heaven,  and  therefore  is  ungodly. 

— Baxter,  1 61 5- 1 69 1. 

4.  Is  a  proof  that  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  la 
not  yet  risen  upon  us. 

(45 II.)  So  long  as  you  see  one  star  in  the  sky 
the  sun  is  not  risen  ;  so  long  as  one  leak  admits  the 
water  the  ship  is  not  safe  ;  so  long  as  one  sin  reigns 
in  a  man's  heart,  and  is  practised  in  his  life,  Jesus 
is  neither  his  Saviour  nor  his  King. 

—  Guthrie. 

5.  Is  sufficient  to  ruin  the  soul. 

{4512.)  There  was  but  one  crack  in  the  lantern, 
and  the  wind  has  found  it  out  and  blown  out  the 
candle.  How  great  a  mi-chief  one  ung-iardtd  point 
of  character  may  cause  us.  One  spark  blew  up  the 
magazine  and  shook  the  whole  country  for  miles 
around.  One  leak  sank  the  vessel  and  drowned  all 
on  board.  One  wound  may  kill  the  body  ;  one  sin 
destroy  the  soul.  — Spirgeon, 

IX.    LITTLE  SINS. 
1.  Lead  to  greater. 

(4513.)  It  is  Satan's  custom  by  small  sins  to 
draw  us  to  greater,  as  the  little  sticks  set  the  great 
ones  on  fire,  and  a  wisp  of  straw  enkindles  a  block 
of  wood.  — i)ya«/o«,  1620-1667. 

(4514.)  A  spark  is  the  beginning  of  a  flame  ;  and 
a  small  disease  may  bring  a  greater. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(4515.)  Sin  encroacheth  by  degrees  upon  the 
soul ;  if  it  can  get  but  one  of  its  claws  into  us,  it 
will  quickly  follow  with  its  head  and  whole  body 
— "A  little  leaven  leaveneth  the  whole  lump." 
Unfaithfulness  to  God  is  first  discovered  in  the 
smallest  matters,  then  it  proceeds  to  greater  things. 
As  the  decay  of  a  tree  is  first  vi;>ibls  in  its  twigs, 

j  but  by  degrees  it  gocth  on  the  bigger  arms,  and  from 

I  them  to  the  main  body. 


SIN. 


(    7S8    ) 


sm. 


As  it  is  tne  nature  of  a  cancer  or  gangrene  to  run 
from  one  joint  or  part  of  the  body  to  another,  from 
the  toe  to  the  foot,  from  the  foot  to  the  leg,  from 
the  leg  to  the  thigh,  and  thence  to  the  vital  parts. 
Do  we  not  sometimes  see  a  whole  arm  imposthu- 
mated  with  the  prick  of  a  little  finger  ;  and  have 
we  not  sometimes  heard  of  a  great  city  betrayed  by 
the  opening  of  a  little  postern?  These  little  sins 
will  grow  to  great  ones  if  let  alone.  Time  will 
turn  small  dust  into  stone.  The  poisonous  cocka- 
trice at  first  was  but  an  egg.  Small  twigs  will 
prove  thorny  bushes  if  not  timely  stubbed  up. 

— i^winnock,  1673. 

(4516.)  Tliese  little  sins,  if  they  be  so,  will  make 
way  for  greater.  Little  wedges  open  the  way  in 
the  most  knotty  wood  for  bigger.  As  thieves,  when 
they  go  to  rob  a  house,  if  they  cannot  force  open 
the  doors,  or  break  through  the  walls,  let  in  a  little 
boy  at  the  window,  who  unbolts  and  unlocks  the 
door,  and  so  lets  in  the  whole  rabble;  thus  the 
devil,  when  men  startle  at  greater  sins,  and_  by 
them  he  hath  no  hopes  to  get  possession  of  their 
souls,  he  puts  them  upon  those  sins  which  they 
think  little,  and  by  these  insensibly  enters ;  for 
they,  once  admitted,  open  the  doors  of  the  eyes,  of 
the  ears,  and  of  the  heart  too,  whereby  the  whole 
legion  enter,  and  rule  and  domineer  in  their  souls 
to  their  ruin.  Men  do  not,  indeed  they  cannot, 
imagine  the  woful  consequences  of  neglecting  their 
watch  against  the  least  sin.  How  many  who  have 
been  so  modest  and  maidenly  at  first,  that  they 
would  not  so  much  as  give  a  lascivious  person  the 
hearing  when  he  hath  spoken  wantonly  ;  yet  by 
giving  way  to  their  own  foolish  thoughts,  have  at 
last  prostituted  themselves  to  their  pleasure  without 
any  slianie.  Sinners  increase  to  more  ungodliness  ; 
when  they  once  venture  down  hill,  they  know  not 
where  nor  when  to  stop.  Workmen  bore  holes 
with  little  wimbles,  v/hich  make  way  for  the  driv- 
ing of  great  nails. 

When  I'ompey,  saith  Plutarch,  could  not  prevail 
with  a  city  to  billet  his  army,  he  yet  persuaded 
thein  to  take  in  a  few  weak,  maimed  soldiers  ;  but 
those  soon  recovered  strength,  and  let  in  the  whole 
army,  to  command  and  govern  the  city.  Tlius 
Satan,  by  sins  of  infirmity,  prevails  at  length  for 
sins  of  presumption.  Great  storms  arise  out  of 
little  gusts  ;  and  clouds  no  bigger  than  the  palm 
of  a  man's  hand  come  in  time  to  cover  the  whole 
heavens.  The  greatest  river  is  fed  with  drops,  and 
the  biggest  mountain  made  up  ol  atoms.  As  Sylla 
said,  wiien  in  his  proscription  time,  tliat  he  slew  so 
many,  one  pleaded  lor  the  life  of  Csesar,  hi  uno 
Cccsare  multi  Alarii :  "Li  one  little  youth,  many  old 
subtle  men,"  so  in  one  little  sin,  there  may  be 
many  great  ones.  When  one  evil  spirit  hath  got 
lodging  in  the  heart,  he  prepares  it,  and  makes 
room  for  seven  more  wicked  and  worse  than  him- 
self. — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4517.)  No  one  becomes  vicious  all  at  once.  The 
way  of  a  transgressor  is  like  that  of  a  stone  down 
hill,  which,  when  it  is  once  set  going,  moves  at 
every  revolution  with  accelerated  speed.  He  begins 
with  little  sins,  and  these  lead  on  to  greater  ones  ; 
from  acts  he  proceeds  to  habits  ;  from  habits  to  in- 
veterate custom  ;  from  custom  to  glorying  in  his 
wickedness.  Vice  tirst  is  pleasing,  then  it  grows 
easy,  then  delightful,  then  frequent,  then  habitual, 
then  cuntirmed ;  then  the  man  is  impenitent,  then 


he  is  obstinate,  then  he  resolves  never  to  repent, 
and  then  he  is  damned.        —John  Angell  Ja?nes. 

(45x8.)  Infidelity  to  the  conscience  in  small  things 
is  intimately  connected  with  a  like  dereliction  in 
large  ones.  Little  lies  are  seeds  of  great  ones. 
Little  cruelties  are  germs  of  great  ones.  Little 
treacheries  are,  like  small  holes  in  raiment,  the 
beginnings  of  large  ones.  Little  dishonesties  are 
like  the  drops  that  work  through  the  banks  of  the 
levee  ;  a  drop  is  an  engineer  ;  it  tunnels  a  way  for 
its  fellows,  and  they,  rushing,  prepare  for  all  behind 
them.  A  worm  in  a  ship's  plank  proves,  in  time, 
worse  than  a  cannon  ball.  — Beecher. 

2.  Are  most  numerous. 

(4519.)  Despise  not  venial  sins  because  they  are 
small,  but  rather  fear  them  because  they  are  many. 
— Augustine,  353-429. 

(4520.)  The  little  transgressions  in  which  men 
indulge,  though  they  have  no  power  upon  the  settled 
course  of  human  affairs,  even  if  they  are  swept  out 
into  a  current  of  public  sentiment  that  carries  them 
down,  as  leaves  are  carried  by  the  Amazon,  are  not 
harmless  nor  indifferent,  becnuse,  aside  from  the 
influence  of  minor  delinquencies  upon  the  sum  of 
affairs  outwardly,  there  is  another  history  and  record, 
namely,  their  inQuence  upon  the  actor.  I  repeat 
that  tiiey  deteriorate  conscience.  You  can  by  a 
blow  cru.-,h  and  destroy  the  conscience,  or  you  can 
nibble  and  gnaw  it  to  pieces.  Theie  is  one  way  in 
which  a  lion  strikes  down  his  prey,  and  there  is 
another  way  in  which  a  rat  comes  at  his  prey,  and 
in  time  the  gnawing  of  vermin  is  as  fatal  to  beauty 
and  life  itself  as  the  stroke  of  the  lion's  paw.  These 
little  infidelities  to  duty,  truth,  rectitude,  lower  the 
moral  tone,  limit  its  range,  destroy  its  sensibility  ; 
in  short,  they  put  out  its  light.  It  is  recorded  of  a 
ligiithouse  erected  on  a  tropical  shore,  tliat  it  was 
like  to  have  failed  for  the  most  unlooked-for  reason. 
When  first  kindled,  the  brilliant  light  drew  about 
it  such  clouds  of  insects,  which  populate  the  evening 
and  night  of  equatorial  lands,  that  they  covered  and 
fairly  darkened  the  glass.  There  was  a  noble  light 
that  shone  out  into  the  darkness  and  vanquished 
night,  that  all  the  winds  could  not  disturb,  nor  all 
the  clouds  and  storms  hide  ;  but  the  soft  wings  and 
gauzy  bodies  of  myriads  of  insects,  each  one  of 
which  was  insignificant,  efiectually  veiled  the  light, 
and  came  near  defeating  the  proposed  gift  to 
mariners.  And  so  it  is  in  respect  to  conscience. 
There  may  be  a  power  in  it  to  resist  great  a>sault, 
to  overcome  strong  temptations,  and  to  avoid  lear.ul 
dangers  ;  but  there  may  be  a  million  little  venomous 
insect  habits,  unimpuitant  in  themselves,  taken  in- 
dividually, and  fearful  in  their  results  collectively. 

— Beecher, 

3.  Are  most  dangerous. 

(4521.)  These  of  all  others  I  observe  the  most 
dangerous,  both  for  their  frequency  and  secrecy  : 
the  one  increasing  them  to  a  large  heap,  the  other 
so  covering  them  as  we  see  not  how  they  wrong 
us.  The  rain  that  falls  in  smallest  drops  moistens 
the  earth,  makes  it  miry,  slimy,  anil  dirty  :  whereas, 
a  hard  shower,  that  descends  violently,  washes 
away  but  soaks  not  in.  — FelUham,  1668. 

(4522.)  There  is  a  tendency  to  fear  great  sins, 
and  a  tendency  to  be  inditlerent  to  little  ones.  Now, 
t'.:ere  are  certain  great  bins  that,  being  commitied. 


S/N. 


(    759    ) 


SIN. 


may  give  such  a  moral  shock  to  a  man's  constitution 
as  to  be  fatal  in  their  effects ;  but  these  are  not 
usually  fallen  into.  Jlen  are  not  very  much  in 
danger  of  great  sins.  They  are  ten  thousand  times 
more  in  danger  of  little  ones.  Men  are  not  in 
danger  of  committing  perjury  half  as  much  as  they 
are  of  telling  "  white  lies,"  as  they  are  called.  Men 
are  not  so  much  in  danger  of  counterfeiting;  as  they 
are  of  putting  on  little  minute  false  appearances. 
Men  are  not  so  much  in  danger  of  committing 
burglary  as  they  are  of  committing  the  myriad 
infinitesimal  injustices  with  which  life  is  filled,  yVny 
particular  act,  to  be  sure,  such  as  I  have  alluded  to, 
which  of  itself  is  simply  as  a  particle  of  dust,  is  not 
so  culpable  as  a  great  sin  ;  but  what  is  the  effect  on 
the  constitution  of  a  series  of  these  offences  that  are 
so  small  as  to  be  almost  imperceptible  ?  It  is  these 
little  sins,  continued  and  multiplied,  that  by  friction 
take  off  the  enamel  of  a  man's  conscience.  It  is 
these  numberless  petty  wrongs  that  men  do  not 
fear,  persisted  in,  that  are  the  most  damaging.  1 
should  dread  the  incursion  into  my  garden,  in  the 
night  time,  of  rooting  swine,  or  trampling  ox,  or 
browsing  buffalo  ;  but,  after  all,  aphides  are  worse 
than  these  big  brutes.  I  could  kill  any  one,  or  half 
a  dozen,  or  a  score  of  them,  if  they  came  in  sucli 
limited  numbers ;  but  when  they  swarm  by  the 
billion  I  cannot  kill  one  in  ten  thousand  of  them— 
and  what  caft  I  do  ?  Myriads  of  these  insignificant 
little  insects  will  eat  faster  than  I  can  work,  and  they 
are  the  pest  and  danger  of  the  garden,  as  often  my 
poor  asters  and  roses  testify.  There  is  many  and 
many  a  flower  that  I  would  work  hard  to  save,  but 
the  fecundity  of  insect  life  will  quite  match  and 
overmatch  any  man's  industry.  Weakness  multi- 
plied is  stronger  than  strength. 

Now,  that  which  does  the  mischief  is  these 
aphides,  these  myriad  infinitesimal  worms,  these 
pestiferous  little  sins,  every  one  ol  which  is  called 
•white,  and  is  a  mere  nothing,  a  small  point — a  mote, 
a  speck  of  dust.  Why,  many  a  caravan  has  been 
overtaken,  smothered,  and  destroyed  by  clouds  of 
dust,  the  separate  particles  of  which  were  so  minute 
as  to  be  almost  invisible. 

Many  men  are  afraid  that  they  will  be  left  to 
some  great  sin — and  they  ought  to  fear  that ;  but 
they  have  not  the  slightest  fear  of  that  which  is  a 
great  deal  more  hkely  to  bring  them  to  condemna- 
tion— the  series  of  petty  violations  of  conscience, 
and  truth,  and  duty,  with  which  human  experience 
is  filled.  — Beecher. 

{4523.)  Men,  in  their  property,  are  afraid  of 
conflagrations  and  lightning  strokes;  but  if  they 
were  building  a  whart  in  Panama,  a  million  madre- 
pores, so  small  that  only  the  microscope  could  de- 
tect them,  would  begin  to  bore  the  piles  down  under 
the  water.  There  would  be  neither  noise  nor  foam  ; 
but  in  a  little  while,  if  a  child  did  but  touch  the 
post,  over  it  would  fall  as  if  a  saw  had  cut  it 
through. 

Now,  men  think,  with  regard  to  their  conduct, 
that,  if  they  were  to  lift  themselves  up  gigantically 
and  commit  some  crashing  sin,  they  should  never 
be  able  to  hold  up  their  heads ;  but  they  will 
harbour  in  their  souls  little  sins,  which  are  piercing 
and  eating  them  away  to  inevitable  ruin. 

— Beecher. 

(4524.)  There  are  sins  which,  like  asps,  always 
carry   their   sting   with   thtra.     The    instant    one 


meddles  with  them,  he  is  struck  by  the  poisoned 
dart.  Such  sins  are  generally  rare  and  admitted  to 
be  very  wrong.  But  there  are  others  thai  are  far 
more  dangerous.  Men  in  tropical  climates  may  be 
very  much  afraid  of  tigers  ;  but  there  are  multitudes 
of  minute  insects  flying  in  the  woods  whose  bite  is 
death.     Shall  they  be  less  afraid  of  these  ? 

Great  crimes  ruin  comparatively  few.  It  is  the 
little  meannesses,  selfishnesses,  and  impurities,  that 
do  the  work  of  death  on  most  men  ;  and  these 
things  march  not  to  the  sound  of  fife  or  drum. 
They  steal  with  muffled  tread,  as  the  foe  steals  on 
the  sleeping  sentinel.  — Bcechsr. 

{4525.)  The  worst  sin  is  not  some  outburst  of 
gross  transgression,  forming  an  exception  to  the 
ordinary  tenor  of  a  life,  bad  and  dismal  as  i.ucli  a 
sin  is  ;  but  the  worst  and  most  fatal  are  the  small 
continuous  vices  which  root  underground  and  honey- 
comb the  soul.  Many  a  man  who  thinks  himself  a 
Christian  is  in  more  danger  from  the  daily  commis- 
sion, for  example,  of  small  pieces  of  sharp  practice 
in  his  business,  than  ever  was  David  at  his  worst. 
White  ants  pick  a  carcase  clean  sooner  than  a  lion 
will.  — Macwen. 

4.  Destroy. 

(4526.)  Let  no  man  think  lightly  of  evil,  saying 
in  his  heart,    "It  will  not   come   near   unto  me. 
Even  by  the  falling  of  water-drops  a  water  pot  is 
filled  ;  and  the  fool  becomes  lull  of  evil,  even  if  he 
gathers  it  little  by  little.  — Buddha. 

(4527.)  You  have  escaped  the  formidable  rocks  ; 
beware  lest  you  are  wrecked  on  the  sands. 

— Gregory  Nazianjen. 

(4528.)  As  a  man  may  die  as  well  by  a  fly  choking 
him  as  by  a  lion  devouring  him  ;  or  as  a  ship  may 
be  sunk  as  well  by  too  much  weight  of  mustard- 
seed  as  of  great  stones  and  lumps  of  lead  :  so, 
likewise,  little  sins  will  sink  a  man  to  hell  as  soon 
as  great  sins.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(4529.)  A  little  rope  suffices  to  hang  a  great 
thief:  a  little  dioss  abases  much  gold;  a  little 
poison  infects  much  wholesome  liquor;  a  little 
heresy  corrupts  much  sound  doctrine  ;  a  little  fly  is 
enough  to  spoil  all  the  alabaster  box  of  ointment  ; 
so  the  smallest  sin,  the  least  peccadillo,  without 
God's  mercy,  is  sufficient  to  damn  our  souls  to  all 
eternity.  — Philip  Bosqida'tis. 

(4530.)  The  least  sin  is  damnable.  The  smallest 
bit  01  sin  is  a  murdering  morsel.  "  Cursed  be  he 
that  confirmeth  not  all  the  words  of  this  law  to  do 
them."  To  eat  a  little  leaven  seems  a  s«iall  thing, 
yet  it  is  a  cutting  off  from  Israel  (Exbd.  xii.  19). 
Gathering  a  few  sticks  on  a  Sabbath,  looking  into 
the  ark,  nay,  touching  the  ark,  are  all  punished  with 
death.  It  is  observable  how  God  urgeth  the  com- 
mand to  abstain  from  blood,  which  seems  a  small 
matter,  with  this  argument,  as  they  desire  God  to 
do  any  good  for  them  or  theirs  (Deut.  xii.  23-25)  and 
upon  pain  of  death.  Friend,  a  little  thing,  a  prick 
of  a  tliorn  festering,  the  kernel  of  a  raisin,  a  small 
bone  in  thy  throat,  may  deprive  thee  of  thy  natural 
lile  ;  and  these  little  sins,  as  thou  callest  them,  may 
hinder  thee  of  eternal  life.  A  small  leak  in  a  ship 
unstopped  may  sink  it.  A  drachm  of  poison  diffuseth 
itself  to  all  parts,  till  it  seize  and  strangle  the  vital 
spirits.     A  penknife  will  stab  mortally,  and  kill  a 


SIN. 


(    760    ) 


SIN. 


man  as  surely  as  a  sword.  A  pistol  will  kill  as  dead 
as  a  cannon.  Cassar  was  slain,  as  some  report,  with 
Dodkins.  There  are  other  diseases  mortal  beside 
the  plague.  Some  have  been  eaten  up  by  bears 
and  lions,  others  by  mice  and  lice.  It  is  spiritual 
murder  to  stifle  and  suppress  the  conceptions  of  the 
Spirit  ill  thy  soul,  as  well  as  to  do  open  despite  to 
the  Holy  Ghost.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4531.)  Little  sins  unrepented  of  will  damn  thee 
as  well  as  greater.  Not  only  great  rivers  fall  into 
the  sea,  but  little  brooks  ;  not  only  greater  sins 
carry  men  to  hell,  but  lesser;  therefore  do  not  think 
p^irdon  easy  because  sin  is  small. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(,4532.)  If  you  have  no  great  transgressions  in 
you>i'  life,  don't  be  too  sure  you  are  safe.  The  flakes 
of  snow  drop  on  the  Alps  one  by  one,  so  light  there 
is  no  weight  to  them  as  they  touch  your  finger ; 
they  come  on,  till  after  awhile  the  traveller's  foot 
strikes  ihe  slide,  and  down  comes  the  avalanche. 
So  the  sins  of  youth  keep  packing  up  till  they  become 
a  mountain  of  sin,  and  after  awhile  start  the  indig- 
nation of  tiie  Lord  Almighty.  — lahnage. 

6.  Lead  ^  bell. 

(4533.)  'J 'here  are  two  ways  of  coming  down  from 
the  top  of  a  church-steeple  :  one  is  to  jump  down, 
ind  the  other  is  to  come  down  by  the  steps  ;  but 
both  will  lead  you  to  the  bottom.  So  also  there 
are  two  ways  of  going  to  hell  :  one  is  to  walk  into 
it  with  your  eyes  open — few  people  do  that — the 
other  is  to  go  down  by  the  steps  of  little  sins. 

X.    CUS  TOM  IN  SINNING. 

1.  Increasingly  strengtliens  all  sinful  habits 
and  dispositions. 

(4534.)  As  mariners  setting  sail  first  lose  sight  of 
the  shore,  then  of  the  houses,  then  of  the  steeples, 
and  then  of  mountains  and  land  ;  and  as  those  that 
are  waylaid  by  a  consumption  first  lose  vigour,  then 
stomach,  and  then  colour  :  thus  it  is  that  sin  hath 
its  woful  gradations.  None  declines  to  the  worst 
at  first.  Lust,  ha'-ing  conceived,  brings  forth  sin, 
and  so  proceeds  to  finishing — as  thus  :  sin  hath  its 
conception,  that  is  delight ;  and  its  formation,  that 
is  design  ;  and  its  birth,  that  is  the  acting  ;  and 
custom  is  the  education  of  tlie  brat ;  tlien  follows 
a  reprobate  sense,  and  the  next  step  is  hell  to  all 
eternity.  — Spencer,  1658, 

(4535.)  Every  commission  of  sin  introduces  into 
the  soul  a  certain  degre«i  of  hardness,  and  an 
aptness  to  continue  in  tliat  sin.  It  is  a  known 
maxim  that  it  is  much  more  difficult  to  throw  out 
than  to  let  in.  Every  degree  of  entrance  is  a 
degree  of  possession.  Sin  taken  into  the  soul  is 
like  a  liquor  poured  into  a  vessel ;  so  much  of  it  as 
it  fills,  it  also  seasons.  The  touch  and  tincture  go 
together.  So  that,  although  the  body  of  the  liquor 
should  be  poured  out  again,  yet  still  it  leaves  that 
tang  behind  it,  which  makes  the  vessel  fitter  for 
that  than  for  any  other.  In  like  manner,  every  act 
of  sin  strangely  transforms  and  works  over  the  soul 
to  its  own  likeness.  Sin  in  this  being  to  the  soul 
like  fire  to  combustible  matter  ;  it  assimilates  before 
it  destroys  it.  — South,  1633-17 16. 

(4536.)  Every  commission  of  sin  imprir's  upon 
the  soul  further  disposition  and  f  roneuess  to  sin ; 


as  the  second,  third,  and  fourth  degi  c-i  of  heat  arc 
more  easily  introduced  than  the  first  Every  one  is 
both  a  preparative  and  a  step  to  the  ^ext.  Drink- 
ing both  quenches  the  present  thirst,  and  provokes 
it  for  the  future.  When  the  soul  is  beaten  from  its 
first  station,  and  the  mounds  and  outworks  of  virtue 
are  once  broken  down,  it  becomes  quite  another 
thing  from  what  it  was  before.  In  one  single  eating 
of  tlie  forbidden  fruit,  when  the  act  is  over,  yet  the 
relish  remains,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  first  is 
an  easy  allurement  to  the  second.  One  visit  l» 
enough  to  begin  an  acquaintance,  and  this  point  is 
gained  by  it,  that  when  the  visitant  comes  again,  he 
is  no  more  a  stranger.  — South,  1633-17 16. 

(4S37-)  When  a  sin  is  let  in  as  a  cuppliant,  it 
remains  in  as  a  tyrant.  The  Arabs  Lave  a  fable  of 
a  miller  who  one  day  was  startled  by  i  camel's  nose 
thrust  in  the  window  of  the  room  where  he  was 
sleeping.  "  It  is  very  cold  outside,"  said  the  camel, 
"I  only  want  to  get  my  nose  in."  The  nose  was 
let  in,  then  the  neck,  and  finally  the  whole  body. 
Presently  the  miller  began  to  be  extremely  incon- 
venienced at  the  ungainly  companion  he  liad 
obtained  in  a  room  certainly  not  big  enough  fo» 
both.  "  If  you  are  inconvenienced  you  may  leave," 
said  the  camel ;  "  as  for  myself,  I  shall  stay  wtiere 
I  am."  There  are  many  such  camels  knocking  at 
the  human  lieart.  Take,  for  instance,  compliance 
with  a  single  worldly  custom — dancing.  Firyt,  the 
custom  creeps  humbly  to  the  door  of  the  heart,  and 
says,  "Let  me  in;  what  am  I  but  putting  one 
foot  before  another  ?  certainly  you  do  not  object  to 
music,  and  /  would  not  for  the  world  have  a  full 
band."  So  in  comes  the  nose  of  the  ca.nel,  and  it 
is  not  long  before  the  entire  i)ody  follows.  1  he 
Christian  then  finds  his  heart  occupied  in  full  figure 
by  the  very  vice  which  a  little  while  before  peeped 
in  so  meekly.  "Being  up,"  it  says  to  liim,  "all 
night  at  a  ball,  with  the  eyes  dazzled  by  lights,  and 
the  ears  stunned  with  a  lull  band,  interferes,  you 
say,  with  your  private  devotions.  So  it  does.  But 
your  private  devotions  will  have  to  go,  for  I  will 
not."  — Episcopal  Recorder. 

2.  Sears  the  conscience. 

(4538.)  The  deceptions  of  sin  tend  to  harden  the 
mind,  by  gradually,  and  almost  imperceptibly  influ- 
encing it  till  it  becomes  quite  accustomed  to  sin. 
The  force  of  habit  is  astonishing.  Suriieons  and 
medical  men,  who  are  naturally  humane  and 
tender,  by  being  accustomed  to  dissections,  wounds, 
and  amputation,  necessarily  lose  in  a  great  measure 
the  sensibility  of  their  minds  to  these  tilings.  On 
the  same  principle,  soldiers  after  engaging  in  two 
or  three  battles,  witness  those  things  with  little 
emotion.  And  so  if  you  yield  to  the  imposing 
insinuations  of  sin,  and  give  way  by  a  little  and 
little,  again  and  again,  you  will  be  so  accustomed 
to  them,  that  the  cheat  will  seem  to  you  a  reality  ; 
all  that  sin  says  you  will  believe  to  be  true  ;  and 
by  and  by  you  will  indulge  freely,  and  without 
remorse,  in  that  at  which  you  once  felt  shocked ; 
and  thus  going  on,  you  will  become  more  and  more 
hardened  till  you  are  beguiled  into  the  commission 
of  sin,  of  which,  if  it  were  proposed  to  you  now, 
you  would  exclaim,  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he 
should  do  this  thing  ?  "  — Salter. 

3.  Renders  men  insensible  to  saving  influenceat 
(4539.)   Wlien  men  have  long  taken  a  custom  of 

sinning,  they  grow  hardened  and  senseless,  as  the 


SIN. 


(    7bi    ) 


SIN. 


highway  doth  by  being  often  trod  upon,  or  as  a 
labourer's  hand  grows  hard  by  constant  labour. 
And  so  sin  becomelh  familiar  to  them,  and  they 
become  "  past  feeling,"  and  are  "given  up  to  work 
uncleanness  with  greediness." 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4540.)  The  chief  danger  of  the  poison  called 
niglushade  is  its  tendency  to  deprive  the  stomach 
of  sensibility,  and  so  to  render  the  most  powerful 
antidotes  of  no  avail.  Exactly  like  this  is  the 
effect  of  long-continued  evil  habits.  Those  who 
are  governed  by  them  lose  all  moral  sensibility. 
Nothing  will  work  upon  them.  They  are  "past 
feeling."  Seeing,  they  see  and  do  not  perceive, 
and  hearing,  they  hear  and  do  not  understand. 
The  conscience  becomes  as  it  were  "  seared  with 
a  hot  iron."  In  that  stale,  applications  whicli 
before  would  have  made  it  start  and  tremble,  fail 
to  move  it.  — R.  A.  Beriratn. 

XI.    PRESUMPTUOUS  SINS. 

1.  Destroy  assurance. 

(4541.)  O  take  heed  of  deliberate  sins  !  like  a 
stone  thrown  into  a  clear  stream,  they  will  so  royle 
thy  soul,  and  muddy  it,  that  thou,  who  even  now 
couldst  see  thy  interest  in  the  promise,  wilt  be  at 
a  loss,  and  not  know  what  to  think  of  thyself. 
They  are  like  a  fire  on  the  top  of  the  house,  it  will 
be  no  easy  matter  to  quench  it.  But  if  thou  hast 
been  so  unhappy,  as  to  fall  into  such  a  slough,  take 
heed  of  lying  in  it  by  impenitency  ;  the  sheep  may 
fall  into  a  ditch,  but  it  is  the  swine  that  wallows  in 
it,  and  thereibre,  h"w  hard  wilt  thou  find  it  (thinkst 
thou)  to  act  thy  faith  on  the  promise,  when  thou 
art  by  thy  filthy  garments,  and  besmeared  counte- 
nance, so  unlike  one  of  God's  holy  ones?  It  is 
dangerous  to  drink  poison,  but  far  more,  to  let  it 
lie  in  tiie  body  long.  Thou  canst  not  act  thy  faith 
(though  a  believer)  on  the  promise,  so  as  to  apply 
the  pardon  it  presents  to  thy  soul,  till  thou  hast 
renewed  thy  repentance. 

—Gurtiall,  1617-1679. 

2.  Destroy  tlie  moral  sense. 

(4542. )  As  sins  of  presumption  are  more  difBcultly 
cured,  so  they  waste  the  conscience  infinitely  more 
than  any  other  sins.  As  really  as  blows  and  wounds 
and  bruises  weaken  the  body,  and  by  degrees  dis- 
pose it  to  its  final  dissolution,  so  certainly  do  some 
sins  shake  and  batter,  and  tear  down  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  soul.  Guilt  upon  the  conscience,  like 
rust  upon  iron,  both  defiles  and  consumes  it,  by 
degrees  gnawing  and  creeping  into  it,  as  that  does, 
till  at  length  it  has  eaten  out  the  very  substance  of 
the  metal.  The  inward  as  well  as  the  outward  man 
has  his  proper  health,  strength,  and  soundness 
naturally  belonging  to  him  ;  and,  in  proportion,  has 
also  his  diseases  and  distempers,  arising  from  an 
irregular  course  of  living.  And  every  act  of  pre- 
sumption is  to  him  as  a  spiritual  debauch  or  surfeit, 
things  that  bring  a  present  disorder,  and  entail  a 
future  decay  upon  nature. 

David  was  a  sufficient  example  of  this. 

— South,  1633-1716. 

8w  Tend  to  Increase. 

(4543-)  This  kind  of  sin  is  marvellously  apt  to 
grow  and  prevail  apon  him  that  gives  way  to  it. 
*'  Keep,"  says  David,  "  Thy  servant  from  presump- 
tuous sins,  lest  thej  get  the  dominion  ove:  me." 


Every  presumption  is  properly  an  encroachment, 
and  all  encroaciiment  carries  in  it  still  a  farther  and 
a  farther  invasion  upon  the  persons  encroached 
upon.  It  enters  into  the  soul  as  a  gangrene  does 
into  the  body,  which  spreads  as  well  as  infects,  and, 
with  a  running  progress,  carries  a  venom  and  a 
contagion  over  all  the  members.  Presumption 
never  stops  in  its  first  attempt.  If  Csesar  comes 
once  to  pass  Rubicon,  he  will  be  sure  to  march 
fartlier  on,  even  till  he  enters  the  very  bowels  of 
Rome,  and  break  open  the  capitol  itself.  He  that 
wades  so  far  as  to  wet  and  foul  himself,  cares  not 
how  much  he  trashes  farther. 

When  the  tenderness  of  the  soul  is  lost,  and  its 
first  awe  of  God  and  religion  broke  by  a  bold  sin, 
it  grows  venturous,  and  ready  to  throw  itself  upon 
all  sorts  of  outrages  and  enormities.  It  does  not 
demur  and  tremble  as  it  used  to  do,  when  an\  thing 
gross  and  foul  was  proposed  to  it  ;  but  it  closes 
with  it  readily,  and  steps  undauntedly  into  that 
stream  that  is  like  to  carry  away  and  swallow  it  up 
for  ever. 

This  growing,  encroaching  mischief  perhaps  first 
fastens  but  upon  the  thoughts,  and  they  take  the 
liberty  to  settle  upon  s^me  unlawful  base  thing,  like 
flies  upon  a  carcase  ;  from  these  it  advances  a  step 
farther,  and  seizes  the  desires,  which  piesently  are 
carried  out  with  a  restless  eagerness  after  the  same 
vile  object  :  and  these  at  length  meet  with  some 
friendly  opportunity,  by  the  help  of  which  they 
breiik  forth  into  actual  commission  ;  which  actual 
commission  grows  from  one  into  many,  and  comes 
to  be  frequent  and  repeated,  till  it  settles  into  a 
custom  and  fixes  itself  immovably  and  lor  ever  in  a 
man's  behaviour. 

This  is  the  nature  and  quality  of  presumption  ; 
much  like  what  our  Saviour  says  of  the  mustard 
seed,  which  at  first  is  the  least  of  all  seeds,  but 
being  grown  up  is  greater  than  all  herbs,  so  that 
the  birds  of  the  air  lodge  in  the  branches  of  it.  In 
like  manner  presumption  first  shows  itself  in  a 
thought,  the  least  of  all  sins  for  the  matter  of  it ; 
but  from  thence  shooting  up  into  a  custom  and  a 
habitual  practice,  it  grows  mighty  and  wide,  opens 
its  arms,  and  spreads  out  its  branches  for  every 
unclean  bird,  every  sinful  action  and  abomination, 
to  come  and  lodge  and  rest  upon. 

No  man  can  assign  the  limits,  the  ne  plus  ultr<k, 
of  presumption,  where  it  will  stay,  and  with  what 
pitch  of  villainy  it  will  be  contented  ;  it  is  as  unruly 
as  power,  as  boundless  as  rebellion  ;  and  tlierefore, 
he  that  would  preserve  his  conscience,  and  the  peace 
of  it,  has  cause  to  keep  a  perpetual  guard  upon  his 
heart,  to  save  it  from  a  first  admission. 

— South,  1633-17 16. 

4.  Greatly  provoke  God  to  anger. 

(4544.)  As  it  is  with  a  friend,  if  you  give  him  a 
blow  peradventure,  or  strike  him  by  chance,  though 
he  may  be  very  angry  at  the  first,  yet,  when  ha 
shall  understand  that  it  was  done  against  your  will, 
he  is  soon  pacified  ;  but  if  he  perceive  tha'  you  plot 
and  contrive  his  death,  that  makes  liim  Icok  about 
him,  and  resolve  that  he  will  never  come  into  your 
company  any  more.  Thus  it  is  with  the  blessed 
Spirit  of  God  :  when  He  sees  thee  fall  into  sin 
unadvisedly  and  inconsiderately.  He  will  not  with- 
draw from  thee  for  this ;  but  if  He  perceive  that 
thou  dost  deliberate  and  contrive  sin,  this  highly 
provokes  Him,  if  not  for  ever,  yet  for  a  long  de- 
parture from  thee.     Hence  it  is  that  a  delil>erate 


SIN. 


(    762     ) 


SIN. 


will  to  sin  without  the  act,  is  more  sinful  than  the 
act  of  sin  without  a  deliberate  will  ;  as  in  the  case 
of  St.  Peter,  that  man  does  worse  who  purposeth 
to  deny  Clirist,  though  he  never  do  it,  than  St. 
Peter  who  did  actually  deny  Christ,  and  never 
intended  it.  Let  every  man,  therefore,  look  to  his 
purjioses  and  deliberations;  for  if  he  sin  deli- 
berately and  advisedly,  the  Holy  Ghost  is  highly 
provoked,  and  he  is  upon  the  very  next  step  to  tlie 
sin  of  those  against  whom  the  prophet  prays, 
*'  Lord,  be  not  vurciful  to  those  thai  sin  maliciously  !  " 
— Spencer,  1658. 

B.  Call  for  profound  repentance. 

(4545.)  Let  no  man  think  presumptuous  sins 
will  be  removed  with  mean  and  ordinary  humilia- 
tions ;  the  remedy  must  be  proportioned,  both  for 
strength  and  quantity,  ingredients  and  dose,  to  the 
quality  and  malignity  of  the  distemper,  or  it  will 
never  do  the  cure.  As  stains  of  a  deep  dye  will 
not  come  out  of  the  cloth  with  such  ordinary  wash- 
ings as  wdl  fetch  out  lighter  spots,  so  to  cleanse  the 
heart  defded  with  these  deeper  pollutions,  these 
crimsiin  and  scarlet  sins,  and  to  restore  it  pure 
white  as  snow  or  wool,  a  more  solemn  and  lasting 
course  is  requisite  than  for  lesser  transgressions. 
It  will  ask  more  sighs,  more  tears,  more  indignation, 
more  revenge  ;  a  stronger  infusion  of  all  those  sove- 
reign ingredients  presented  by  St.  Paul  (2  Cor.  vii.), 
before  there  can  be  a  comfortable  hope  that  it  is 
pardoned.  The  will  of  man  is  a  sour  and  stubborn 
piece  of  clay,  that  will  not  frame  to  any  serviceable 
use  without  much  working.  A  soft  and  tender 
heart  indeed  is  soon  rent  in  pieces,  like  a  silken 
garment  if  it  do  but  catch  upon  any  liitle  nail  ;  but 
a  heart  hardened  with  a  long  custom  of  sinning, 
especially  if  it  be  with  one  of  these  presumptuous 
sins,  is  like  the  knotty  root  end  of  an  old  oak  that 
has  lain  long  a-drying  in  the  sun.  It  must  be  a 
hard  wedge  that  will  enter,  and  it  must  be  handled 
with  some  skill  too  to  make  it  do  that ;  and  when 
the  wedge  is  entered,  it  will  endure  many  a  hard 
knock  before  it  will  yield  to  the  cleaver,  and  fall 
in  sunder.  And  indeed  it  is  a  blessed  thing,  and  to 
be  acknowledged  a  gracious  evidence  of  God's 
unsj^eakable  mercy  to  those  that  have  wilfully 
suffered  such  an  unclean  spirit  to  enter  in  and  to 
take  possession  of  their  souls,  if  they  shall  ever  be 
enabled  to  out  him  again,  though  with  never  so 
much  fasting  and  prayer. 

— Sanderson,  1 58  7- 1 662. 

XII,    SECRET  SINS. 

(4546.)  Take  heed  of  secret  sins.  They  will  un- 
do thee  if  loved  and  maintained  :  one  moth  may 
spoil  the  garment  ;  one  leak  drown  the  ship  ;  a 
penknife  stab  and  kill  a  man  as  well  as  a  sword  ; 
so  one  sin  may  damn  the  soul  ;  nay,  there  is  more 
danger  of  a  secret  sin  causing  the  miscarrying  of  the 
soul  than  open  prufanencss,  because  not  so  obvious 
to  the  reproofs  of  the  world  ;  therefore  take  heed 
that  secret  sinnings  eat  not  out  good  beginnings. 
— Burroughs,  1 599- 1 646. 

(4547.)  Go  down  into  your  hearts  and  take  the 
keys  ol  lliem  and  ransav;k  your  private  cupboarils, 
and  nairouly  obst-rve  what  junkets  your  souls  have 
hitherto  lived  UDon,  and  gone  behind  the  door  and 
there  secretly  and  stoutly  made  a  meal  of  them. 
As  dogi  have   bones  they   hide  and   secretly  steal 


forth   to  gnaw  upon,   so  men  have  sins  they   hide 
under  their  tongues  as  sweet  bits. 

— Goodwin,  1 600- 1679. 

{4548.)  I  have  heard  that  a  shepherd  once  stood 
and  watched  an  eagle  sonr  out  from  a  cliff.  The 
bird  flew  far  up  into  the  air,  and  presently  became 
unsteady  and  reeled  in  its  flight.  Then  one  wing 
dropped  and  the  other  ;  presently,  with  accelerated 
speed,  the  poor  bird  fell  rapidly  to  the  gniund.  The 
shepherd  was  curious  to  know  the  secret  of  its  fall. 
He  went  and  picked  it  up.  He  saw  that  where  the 
eagle  lighted  last  on  a  cliff,  a  little  serpent  had 
fastened  itself  upon  him  ;  and  as  the  serpent  gnawed 
in  farther  and  larther,  the  eagle  in  its  agony  reeled 
in  the  air.  When  the  serpent  touched  the  heart  the 
eagle  fell.  Have  you  never  seen  a  man  or  woman 
in  the  church,  in  society,  rising  and  rising  ;  the 
man  becoming  more  and  more  influential,  strong 
apparently,  widely  known,  asserting  power  far  and 
near  ;  but  by  and  by,  growing  unsteady,  uncertain, 
reeling,  as  it  were,  in  uncertainty,  inconsistency, 
and  at  last  fall  to  the  earth,  and  lay  there  in  hope- 
less disgrace,  a  spectacle  for  angels  to  weep  over, 
and  scoffers  and  devils  to  jeer  at?  You  do  not 
know  the  secret  of  the  fall.  But  the  omniscient  eye 
of  God  saw  It.  That  neglect  of  prayer,  that  secret 
dishonesty  in  Ijusiness,  that  stealthy  connivance 
with  the  intoxicating  ciip,  that  licentiousness  and 
profligacy  unseen  of  men,  that  secret  tampering 
with  unbelief  and  error,  was  the  serpent  at  the 
heart  that  brought  the  eagle  down.         — Cuyler. 

(4549.)  I  once  heard  of  two  men  who,  in  a  state 
of  intoxication,  set  out  in  the  night  to  cross  a  frith 
in  an  open  boat.  They  rowed,  and  rowed,  and 
rowed,  till  the  gray  light  of  dawn  began  to  open 
upon  them,  when  to  their  astonishment  they  found 
that  they  had  not  moved  a  yard.  Would  you  know 
the  reason  ?  In  the  stupidity  of  their  intemperance 
they  had  neglected  to  lilt  tlie  anchor  before  they 
began  !  IN'ow,  so  it  is  with  many,  and  their 
endeavours  after  the  Christian  life.  They  heat 
ministers  gladly,  and  the  more  earnest  the  sermon 
is,  they  are  the  more  delighted  ;  they  converse  with 
Christians  about  their  souls,  and  are  considered  to 
be  in  a  hopeful  state,  but,  somehow,  they  never 
move  out  of  their  position.  Why  ?  Because,  deep 
down  their  hearts  are  anchored  to  some  hidden 
thing,  and  they  did  not  lift  the  anchor  when  they 
began.  There  is  a  righteousness  of  their  own, 
which  they  will  not  part  with  even  for  the  spotless 
robe  which  Jesus  would  bestow  upon  them.  There 
is  a  sum  of  money,  of  which  they  do  not  choose  that 
Christ  should  have  the  disposal.  There  is  a  secret 
chamber  in  their  souls,  of  which  they  are  detei  mined 
that  Christ  shall  not  have  the  key.  There  is  a 
darling  lust  which  they  are  resolved  yet  to  gratify, 
and  so  they  still  hang  back  and  are  only  almost 
persuaded  after  all,  — AK  J\J.  'J  ay  lor. 

XIII,    BESETTING   SINS. 

(4550.)  Eveiy  evil  man  has  lusts  of  his  own, 
which  he  is  as  resolute  to  maintain  as  a  father  to 
keep  his  own  children.  It  is  easy  for  men  to 
dislike  lusts  not  their  own,  to  condemn  another 
man's  sins  ;  but  our  own  lusts  are  dear  unto  us. 

Many  being  reproved,  answer,  Alas  I  you  must 
bear  with  me  in  this,  it  is  my  fault  ;  as  if  every  man 
were  allowed  his  own  fault.  There  is  a  private 
Sodom  within  us  ;  we  are  loth  to  part  with  that. 


SIN. 


(  763  ; 


SIN. 


Men  say  of  their  sins  as  Jacob  said  of  his  sons, 
"Go,  all  but  Benjamin."  Other  vices  we  will  not 
so  much  stick  for,  but,  "Oh,  that  Islimael  might 
live  !  "  There  is  still  some  worm  in  the  root  of  the 
tree  t'-at  will  spoil  the  fruit.  We  extenuate  it  •.  is 
it  not  a  liitle  one?  IJut  a  little  hair  in  the  pen 
make*  a  great  blot  in  the  paper. 

— Adams,  1654. 

(4551.)  We  have  every  one  of  us  besetting  sins. 
I  use  the  plural,  for  they  are  sometimes,  alas  !  not 
one,  but  many  ;  sins,  that  is,  which  more  easily  get 
advantage  over  us  than  others,  to  which  we  have  a 
mournful  proclivity,  an  especial  predisposition  ;  it 
may  be  through  natural  temperament,  it  may  be 
through  faults  in  our  education,  it  may  be  tiirough 
the  circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed,  it  may 
be  through  having  given  way  to  them  in  times  past, 
and  thus  broken  down  on  their  side  more  than  on 
any  other  the  moral  defences  of  our  soul  ;  the  soul 
in  this  resembling  paper,  which,  where  it  has  been 
blotted  once,  however  careful  the  erasure  of  the 
blot  may  have  been,  there  more  easily  blots  and 
runs  anew  than  elsewhere.  It  is,  then,  a  point  of 
obvious  prudence  to  strengthen  the  defences  of  the 
city  of  the  soul  there,  where  they  are  felt  and  known 
to  be  weakest — wht-re  //lai  is,  every  one  who  has 
kept  any  close  record  of  the  sad  sec:ets  of  his  own 
spiritual  life,  will  in  his  own  case  abuudamly  know 
—  to  watch  and  pray  against  a//  sin,  but,  above  all, 
with  especial  emphasis  and  earnestness,  against  the 
sin  which  most  easily  besets  us,  -—Trench. 

XIV.    ORIGINAL  SIN. 

1.  Is  an  Indisputable  fact, 

(4552.)  Original  or  birth  sin  is  not  merely  a  doc- 
trine in  religion,  it  is  a  fact  in  man's  world  acknow- 
ledged by  all,  whether  religious  or  not.  Let  a  man 
be  providing  for  an  unborn  child  ;  in  case  of  distri- 
bution of  worldly  property,  he  will  take  care  to 
bind  him  by  conditions  and  covenants  which  shall 
guard  against  his  fraudulently  helping  himself  to 
that  which  he  is  to  hold  for  or  to  a|iportion  to 
another.  He  never  saw  that  child  ;  he  does  not 
know  but  that  child  may  he  the  most  pure  and  per- 
fect of  men  ;  but  be  knows  it  will  not  be  safe  to  put 
temjitation  in  his  w'ay,  because  he  knows  he  will  be 
born  in  sin,  and  liable  to  sin,  and  sure  to  commit 
sin.  — Alford,  1810-1871. 

(4553-)  As  it  is  absolutely  impossible  for  a  man 
to  believe,  when  the  dice  are  thrown  sixes  succes- 
sively a  thousand  times,  that  the  dice  are  not  loaded  ; 
so  is  it  a  thousand  times  more  impossible  to  believe, 
when  every  human  being  (fall  nations  and  genera- 
tions, without  a  single  exception,  begins  to  sin  the 
instant  he  enters  moral  agency,  that  his  will  is  not 
bia-sed  by  a  previous  effectual  tendency  in  his  nature 
to  sin.  — IJodge. 

2.  Is  implied  in  tlie  mission  and  teaching  of 
Christ. 

(4554.)  Many  inquirers  find  it  difficult  to  believe 
themselves  innately  bad,  simply  because  they  have 
been  told  that  such  a  belief  is  required  of  them.  No 
man  taught  the  doctrine  of  origuial  sin,  commonly 
so  called,  so  impressively  as  Jesus  Christ,  and  yet 
He  never  mentioned  it.  His  whole  scheme  was 
founded  upon  the  assumption  that  men  were  wroni;. 
^very  call  to  a  new  point,  every  frown  upon  sin. 


every  encouragement  of  well-doing,  meant  that 
society  needed  regeneration.  Men  may  come  upon 
the  doctrine  of  original  depravity  in  one  of  two 
different  ways  ;  for  example,  they  may  ccine  apon 
it  as  a  dogma  in  theology.  The  first  thing  that 
some  theologians  do  is  to  abuse  human  nature,  to 
describe  it  as  being  covered  with  wounds  and  bruises 
and  putrefying  sores,  and  as  deserving  nothing  but 
eternal  burning.  Human  nature  resists  this  as  a 
slander  :  it  says,  "  No  ;  I  have  good  impulses, 
upward  desires,  generous  emotions  towards  my 
fellow-creatures  ;  I  resent  your  theological  calum- 
nies." So  much  for  the  first  method  of  approaching 
the  doctrine.  The  second  is  totally  unlike  it.  A 
man,  for  example,  heartily  accepts  Jesus  Christ, 
stndifs  Him  with  most  passionate  devotion,  and 
grows  daily  more  like  Him  in  all  purity,  gentleness, 
and  self-oblivion.  From  this  attitude  he  looks 
back  upon  his  former  self;  he  compares  the  human 
nature  with  which  he  started  with  the  human  nature 
he  has  attained,  and  involuntarily,  by  the  sheer 
necessity  of  the  contrast,  he  says,  "  I  was  born  in 
sin  and  shapen  in  iniquity."  This  conclusion  he 
comes  to,  not  by  dogmatic  teaching,  but  by  dog- 
matic experience  ;  what  he  never  could  have  under- 
stood a-i  an  opinion  he  realises  as  a  lact. 

Suppose  a  tree  to  be  conscious,  and  let  it  illus- 
trate what  is  meant  by  growing  into  a  right  ui'der- 
standinj  of  tliis  hard  doctrine.  Tell  the  tree  in 
Apiil  that  it  is  bare  and  ungainly  in  appearance; 
very  barren  and  naked  altogether.  The  tree  says, 
'■  Nay  ;  I  am  rooted  in  the  earth  ;  my  branches  are 
strong  ;  I  live  in  the  light  ;  I  drink  the  dew  ;  and 
1  am  beautiful  ;  the  winds  rock  me,  and  many  a 
bird  twitters  on  my  boughs."  This  is  its  April 
creed.  Go  to  the  same  tree  after  it  has  had  a 
summer's  experience  :  it  has  lelt  the  quickening 
penetration  of  the  solar  fire,  quenched  its  thirst  in 
summer  showers,  felt  the  sap  circulating  through  its 
veins  ;  the  leaves  have  come  out  on  branch  and 
twig,  the  blossoms  have  blushed  and  bloomed 
tiirough  long  days  of  light  ;  fruit  has  been  formed, 
and  mellowed  into  maturity.  Now  hear  the  tree ! 
'  I  am  not  what  I  was  in  April  ;  my  very  identity 
seems  to  be  changed  ;  when  men  called  me  bare 
and  rugged  I  did  not  believe  them  a  lew  months 
ago  ;  now  I  see  what  they  meant — their  verdict 
was  sound  :  I  thought  the  April  light  very  beautiful, 
but  it  is  nothing  to  the  blazing  splendour  of  the 
later  months  ;  1  liked  the  twitter  of  the  spring 
birds,  but  it  is  poor  compared  with  the  song  of  those 
that  came  in  June.  I  leel  as  if  I  had  been  born 
again."  The  parable  is  broad  enough  to  cover  this 
bewildering,  and  at  times  horrifying,  doctrine  of 
hereditary  depravity.  Men  cannot  be  in  April  what 
they  will  be  in  September.  Each  year  says  to 
growing  hearts,  "  1  have  many  things  to  say  unto 
you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now."  In  old  age 
men  may  accept  the  rejected  doctrines  of  their 
youth.  Experience  brings  us  round  many  a  rugged 
hill,  and  gives  us  better  views  of  condemned, 
because  misunderstood,  opinions.  — Parker. 

3.  Cleaves  to  us  till  death. 

(4555.)  There  is  no  getting  rid  of  the  corrupt 

nature  of  man  until  death  prostrates  it  in  the  dust. 
It  is  like  the  Jewish  leprosy  in  the  walls  of  the 
tainted  house,  which  could  never  be  eradicated  until 
the  whole  budding  was  taken  down.  But  its  nature 
undergoes  a  material  change  through  the  operation 
of  grace  upon  it.     just  as  the  virulent  properties  of 


SIN. 


(    764    ) 


SIN. 


in  acid  are  neutralised  by  the  mixture  of  alkali,  the 
lubsiance  is  not  destroyed,  or  removed,  but  the 
character  is  changed — so  the  whole  leaven  of  cor- 
ruption, when  acted  on  by  grace,  is  altered  in  its 
pernicious  effects,  and  assumes  a  new  character, 
although  it  is  not  taken  away. 

4   Necessitates  continual  watchfulness. 

\4556.)  Let  original  sin  make  us  walk  with  con- 
tinual jealousy  antt  watchfuhiess  over  our  henrts. 
The  sin  of  our  nature  is  like  a  sleeping  lion,  the 
least  thing  that  awakens  it  makes  it  rage.  The  sin 
of  our  nature,  though  it  seems  quiet,  and  lies  as 
fire  hid  under  the  embers,  yet  if  it  be  a  little  stirred 
and  blown  up  by  a  temptation,  how  quickly  may  it 
flame  forth  into  scandalous  evils?  therefore  we  had 
need  always  to  walk  watchfully.  "1  say  to  you 
all,  watch"  (Mark  xiii.  37).  A  wandering  heart 
needs  a  watchful  eye.  — IVatson,  1696. 

6.  It  deservetli  God's  wratli  and  damnation. 

["Original  sin  standeth  not  in  the  following  of 
Adam  (as  the  Pelai;ians  do  vainly  talk),  but  it  is 
the  lault  and  corruption  of  the  nature  of  every  man, 
that  naturally  is  engendered  of  the  offspring  of 
Adam  ;  whereby  man  is  very  far  gone  from  original 
righteousness,  and  is  of  his  own  nature  inclined  to 
evil,  so  that  the  flesh  lusteth  always  contrary  to  tlie 
spirit  ;  and  therefore  in  every  person  born  into  this 
world  ii  dese?-vetk  God's  wrath  and  damnation.'''' — 
Articles  of  Church  oj  England,  No.  ix.\ 

(4557.)  As  we  do  not  cease  to  hate  a  young  wolf 
although  that  he  hath  not  yet  worried  any  sheep, 
or  a  young  serpent,  notwitlistanding  that  it  liaih 
not  yet  cast  forth  its  venom,  but  do  jnd^e  ihcm 
worthy  of  death  because  of  the  perverse  nature  that 
is  in  them  :  so  ought  we  to  esteem  that  God  hath 
no  less  occasion  to  condemn  us,  even  from  our 
mother's  womb,  because  of  our  perversity  and 
natural  malice  engendered  within  us.  And  though 
the  Lord  should  damn  us  eternally,  He  should  do 
us  no  wrong,  but  only  that  which  our  nature 
deserveth  ;  for  although  the  young  infant  hath  not 
yet  done  any  work  which  we  may  judge  to  be  evil, 
since  he  hath  not  yet  the  understanding  or  the 
power  to  do  it,  yet  it  foUoweth  not  therefore  but 
that  the  perversity  which  is  natural  in  man  hath 
already  its  root  in  him  as  one  part  of  his  paternal 
inheritance,  the  which  cannot  please  God  ;  for 
although  it  bringeth  not  forth  its  fruits,  yet  they  do 
remain  still  there,  as  in  their  root,  which  will  bring 
them  forth  in  its  time — as  the  venom  is  already  in 
a  serpent,  although  he  bite  not,  and  the  nature  of  a 
wolf  in  a  young  wolf,  how  harmless  soever  he 
seemeth  to  be.  — Cazvdray,  1609. 

6.  Yet  it  does  not  exclude  eMldren  from  covenant 
mercies. 

(4558.)  "But  how  can  God  be  the  God  of  our 
children,  when  they  are  born  in  corruption,  children 
of  wrath?  Can  they  be  the  children  of  wrath  and 
the  children  of  God  both  at  one  time?" 

I  answer.  Yes  :  both  at  one  time.  For  even  as 
in  civil  matters,  in  our  city  here,  a  man  may  be  a 
freeman  of  the  city  and  yet  be  born  lame  or  leprous, 
or  with  some  contagious  disease — this  hinders  not 
his  freedom — so  the  children  of  a  believing  lather 
and  mother  may  b**  freemen  of  the  city  of  God,  and 


in  the  covenant  of  grace,  and  yet  be  tainted  with 
original  sin,  that  overspreads  the  powers  of  the 
soul  notwithstanding.  — Siobes,  1577-1635. 

XV.    SINS  OF  OMISSION. 

(4559-)  Suppose  sins  of  omission  were  little,  yet 
it  is  lolly  and  madness  upon  this  to  allow  of  them. 
A  mote  in  the  eye  is  a  little  thing,  it  hindercth  our 
sight  of  the  sun,  and  is  big  enough  to  put  us  to 
great  pain,  and  to  disturb  our  whole  body.  The 
flies  and  lice  of  Egypt  were  little  creatures,  but 
great  plagues.  The  sting  of  a  bee  is  a  little  tning, 
but  it  puts  us  to  grievous  torment.  He  who  refused 
to  give  a  few  crumbs,  was  denied  one  drop  (Luke 
xvi.  21).  A  fly  spoils  an  alabaster  box  of  ointment  j 
a  little  poison  spoils  much  wholesome  liquor. 

If  they  were  little,  yet  they  are  sins,  and  that 
enough  to  set  a  good  man  against  them.  It  is  as 
much  treason  to  coin  a  penny,  as  a  twenty  shillings 
piece ;  because  the  royal  authority  is  as  much 
violated  in  the  one  as  in  the  other.  There  is  the 
same  rotundity  in  a  little  ball  or  buUei,  as  in  a 
great  one.  The  authority  of  God  is  as  truly 
despised  in  the  breach  of  the  least  command- 
ments, as  some  are  called,  as  in  the  breach  of  the 
greatest,  as  otliers  are  called  (Matt.  xxii.  36-38).  A 
sprig  of  wormwood  hath  the  same  bitterness  with 
the  plant.  A  drop  of  sea-water  hath  the  same 
saltness  with  the  ocean.  The  smallest  sin  is  a 
breach  of  the  royal  law  as  well  as  the  greatest 
(i  John  iii.  4).  Though  the  object  may  be  differ- 
ent, yet  the  command  is  still  the  same  ;  and  the 
wise  man  tells  us  that  the  law  must  be  kept  as  the 
ajiple  of  the  eye,  which  is  offended  by  the  smallest 
dust  (Prov.  vii.  2).  •~Swinnock,  1673, 

(4560.)  All  omissions  of  duty  will  more  and 
more  unlit  the  soul  for  duty.  A  key  thrown  by, 
gathers  rust  ;  a  pump  not  used  will  be  hardly  got 
to  go  ;  and  armour  not  used  will  be  hardiy  made 
bright,  &c.  Look,  £>  sinful  commissionn  will  st;\b 
the  soul ;  so  sinful  omissions  will  starve  'he  soul. 
— Brooks,  i6c»8-i6So. 

(4561.)  Few  of  our  errors,  national  or  individual, 
come  from  the  design  to  be  unjust — mosf.  of  them 
from  sloth,  or  incapacity  to  grapple  with  the  diffi- 
culties of  being  just.  Sins  of  commission  may  not, 
perhaps,  shock  the  retrospect  of  conscience.  Large 
and  obtrusive  to  view,  we  have  confessed,  mourned, 
repented,  possibly  atoned  them.  Sins  oi  omission, 
so  veiled  amidst  our  hourly  emotions — blent,  con- 
fused, unseen,  in  the  conventional  routine  of  exist- 
ence— Alas  !  could  these  suddenly  emerge  from 
their  shadow,  group  together  in  serried  mass  and 
accusing  order — alas,  alas  !  would  not  the  best  of 
us  then  start  in  di-may,  and  would  not  '.he  proudest 
humble  himself  at  the  throne  of  mercy  I 

— Lord  Lytton, 

XVL    SINS   OF    THE   PAST. 

(4562.)  I  must  confess  I  am  shocked  with  some 
people  whom  I  know,  who  glibly  rehearse  theii 
past  lives  up  to  the  time  of  their  supposed  conver- 
sion, and  talk  of  their  sins,  which  they  hope  have 
been  forgiven  them,  with  a  sort  of  smack  of  the 
lips,  as  if  there  was  something  fine  in  having  been 
so  atrocious  an  offender.  I  hate  to  hear  a  man 
speak  of  his  experience  in  sin  as  a  Greenwich 
pensioner  n.ight  talk  of  Trafalgar  and  the  Nile. 
The  best  thing  to  do  with  our   past  sin,  if  it   b« 


S/JV. 


(  765  ) 


S/A/. 


indeed  forgiven,  is  to  bury  it  ;  yes,  and  let  us  bury 
it  as  they  used  to  bury  suicides,  let  us  drive  a  stake 
through  it,  in  horror  and  contempt,  and  never  set 
up  a  monument  to  its  memory.  If  you  ever  do  tell 
anybody  about  your  youthful  wrongdoing,  let  it  be 
with  blushes  and  tears,  with  shame  and  confusion 
of  lace  ;  and  always  speak  of  it  to  the  honour  of  the 
infinite  mercy  which  forgave  you.  Never  let  the 
devil  stnnd  behind  you  and  pat  you  on  the  back  and 
say,  "  You  did  me  a  good  turn  in  those  days."  Oh, 
it  is  a  shameful  thing  to  have  sinned,  a  degrading 
thing  to  have  lived  in  sin,  and  it  is  not  to  be 
wrapped  up  into  a  telling  story  and  told  out  as  an 
exploit  as  some  do.  "The  old  man  is  crucified 
with  him,"  who  boasts  of  being  related  to  the 
crucified  felon.  If  any  member  of  your  family  had 
been  hanged,  you  would  tremble  to  hear  any  one 
mention  the  gallows  ;  you  would  not  run  about  cry- 
ing, "  Do  you  know  a  brother  of  mine  was  hanged 
at  Newgate?  "  Your  old  man  of  sin  is  hanged,  do 
not  talk  about  him,  but  thank  God  it  is  so  ;  and  as 
He  blots  out  the  remembrance  of  it,  do  you  the 
same,  except  so  far  as  it  may  make  you  humble  and 
grateful.  — Spurgeo/t. 

XVII.    SW  m  BELIEVERS. 

L  Is  especially  conspicuous. 

(4563.)  If  the  sun  be  eclipsed  one  day,  it  attracts 
more  attention  than  by  its  clear  shining  a  whole 
year.  — Seeker. 

2.  Is  exceeding  sinfttl. 

(4564.)  A  sin  acted  in  the  temple  was  greater 
*han  if  the  same  had  been  by  a  Jew  committed  in 
his  private  dwelling,  because  the  temple  v\as  a  con- 
secrated place.  The  saint  is  a  consecrated  person, 
and  by  acts  of  unrighteousness  he  jirofanes  God's 
♦emple  ;  the  sin  of  another  is  theft,  because  he  robs 
God  of  the  glory  clue  to  Ilim  ;  but  the  sin  of  a 
saint  is  sacrilege,  because  he  robs  God  of  that 
which  is  devoted  to  Him  in  an  especial  manner. 
— Curnall,  1617-1679. 

t.  Is  specially  Injurious  to  others. 

(4565.)  If  a  man  could  be  wicked  and  a  villain 
to  himself  alone,  the  mischief  would  be  so  much 
the  more  tolerable.  But  the  case  is  much  other- 
wise. The  plague  flies  abroad,  and  attacks  the 
innocent  neighbourhood. 

The  guilt  of  the  crime  lights  upon  one,  but  the 
example  of  it  sways  a  multitude  ;  especially  if  the 
criminal  be  of  any  note,  or  eminence  in  the  world. 
For  the  fall  of  such  an  one  by  any  temptation  (be 
it  never  so  plausible)  is  like  that  of  a  principal  stone, 
or  stately  pillar,  tumbling  f.  om  a  loity  edifice  into 
the  deep  mire  of  the  street  :  it  does  not  only  plunge 
and  sink  into  the  black  dirt  itself,  but  also  dashes 
and  bespatters  all  that  are  about  or  near  it  when  it 
falls. 

Was  it  not  thus  with  Samson?  who,  of  a  judge 
of  Israel,  and  a  terror  to  his  enemies,  a  man  all 
made  up  of  miracle,  rendered  himself  both  the 
shame  of  the  former  and  the  contempt  of  the 
latter ;  a  scoff  and  a  byword  to  all  the  nations 
round  about  him  (as  every  vicious  and  voluptuous 
prince  must  needs  be) ;  and  all  this  by  surrendering 
up  his  strength,  his  reason,  and  his  royal  trust  to 
the  charms  of  a  brutish  temptation,  which  quickly 
transformed   aad    made    him   a   more   stupendous 


miracle  of  folly  and  weakness  than  ever  he  had 
been  of  strength  ;  and  a  greater  disgrace  to  his 
country  than  ever  he  had  been  a  defence  ;  or  in  a 
word,  from  a  judge  of  Israel,  a  woful  judgment 
upon  it. 

And  was  it  not  thus  also  with  David  ?  This  was 
the  worst  and  most  killing  consequence  of  tiie  temp- 
tation which  he  fell  by  (2  Sam.  xii.  14),  that  he  had, 
by  that  enormous  act,  "given  the  enemies  of  God," 
as  the  prophet  told  him,  "great  occasion  to  blas- 
pheme." And  no  doubt  the  religion  he  professed, 
as  well  as  the  sin  he  had  committed,  was  thereupon 
made  "  the  song  of  the  drunkards  ;  "  and  many  a 
biting  jeer  was  obliquely  cast  at  one,  as  well  as 
directly  levelled  at  the  other.  For  to  be  vicious 
in  the  sight  of  a  man's  enemies,  and  those  not  more 
the  enemies  of  himself  than  of  his  religion,  what  a 
bitter  aggravation  is  it  on  his  guilt,  and  what  an 
indelible  reproach  to  his  person  I 

— South,  1633-1716. 

4.  Brings  dishonour  on  the  Gospel. 

(4566.)  The  sins  of  the  godly  are  worse  than 
others,  because  they  bring  a  greater  reproach  upon 
religion.  For  the  wicked  to  sin,  there  is  no  other 
ex[)ected  from  them  ;  swine  will  wallow  in  the 
mire  ;  but  when  sheep  do  so,  when  the  godly  sin, 
that  redounds  to  the  dishonour  of  the  gospel  :  "  By 
this  deed  thou  hast  given  great  occasion  to  the 
enemies  of  the  Lord  to  blaspheme."  A  stain  in 
scarlet,  every  one's  eye  is  upon  it  ;  for  the  godly 
to  sin,  it  is  like  a  spot  in  scarlet,  it  is  more  taken 
notice  of,  and  it  reflects  a  greater  dishonour  upon 
the  ways  of  God.  When  the  sun  is  eclipsed,  every 
one  stands  and  looks  upon  it ;  so,  when  a  child  of 
light  is  eclipsed  by  scandalous  sin,  all  stand  and 
gaze  at  this  eclipse.  — i^Vatson,  1696. 

(4567.)  An  eminent  professor  is  the  concern  of  a 
whole  profession  :  as  to  nonplus  an  Aristotle  would 
look,  not  only  like  a  slur  to  a  particular  philosopher, 
but  like  a  baffle  to  philosophy  itself. 

The  devil  will  let  a  man  build  and  practise  high, 
that  he  may  at  length  fetch  him  down  with  the 
greater  shame,  and  so  make  even  a  Christian  an 
argument  against  Christianity. 

The  subduing  of  any  soul  is  a  conquest,  but  of 
such  an  one  a  triumph.  A  signal  protessor  cannot 
perish  without  a  train,  and  in  his  very  desiructior 
his  example  is  authentic        — South,  1633-17 16. 

6.  Dishonours  God. 

(4568.)  God  is  worthy  of  honour:  "Blessed  be 
Thy  glorious  name,  which  is  exalted  abuve  all 
blessings  and  praise."  He  is  above  all  the  acclama- 
tions and  triumphs  of  the  archangels.  Oh  then,  let 
every  true  child  of  God  honour  his  Heavenly 
Father!  Though  the  wicked  dishonour  Ilim  by 
their  flagitious  lives,  yet  let  not  His  own  children 
dishonour  Him.  Sins  in  you  are  worse  than  in 
others  ;  a  fault  in  a  stranger  is  not  so  much  taken 
notice  of  as  a  fault  in  a  child  :  a  spot  in  black 
cloth  is  not  so  much  observed  ;  but  a  sjiot  in 
scarlet,  every  one's  eye  is  upon  it ;  a  sin  in  the 
wicked  is  not  so  much  wondered  at,  it  is  a  spot  in 
black  ;  but  a  sin  in  a  child  of  God,  here  is  a  spot  in 
scarlet  ;  this  is  more  visible,  and  brings  an  odium 
and  dishonour  upon  the  gospel.  The  sins  of  God's 
own  children  go  nearer  to  His  heart :  "  W  hen  the 
Lord  saw  it  He  abhorred  them,  because  of  the 
provoking  of  His  sons  and  daughters."    Oil  forbear 


SIN, 


(    766     ) 


SIN. 


doing  anything  tliat  may  reflect  dishonour  upon 
God.  Will  you  disgrace  your  Heavenly  Father? 
Let  not  God  cciin[>lain  of  the  provocations  of  His 
sons  and  daughters;  let  Him  not  cry  out,  "  1  have 
brought  up  children,  and  they  have  lebelled  against 
Me."  — IValson,  1696. 

6.  Dishonours  Cbrlst. 

(4569.)  It  is  recorded  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
that  a  soldier  was  reported  to  him  as  having  be- 
trayed great  cowardice  on  a  particular  occasion,  on 
which  Alexander  called  him  to  him  and  asked  his 
name.  On  hearing  that  his  name  was  Alexander, 
he  upbraided  him  with  the  dishonour  that  he 
brought  on  such  a  name,  and  entreated  him  either 
to  change  his  manners  or  to  change  his  name, 
asking  liim  how  he  could  dare,  while  known  as 
Alexander,  to  act  unworthily  ?  And  shall  not  the 
Christian  remember  the  high  and  holy  name  by 
which  he  is  called,  and  dread  encountering  the 
guilt  and  meanness  of  dishonouring  his  Head, 
who  was  "holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  separate  from 
sinners."  That  name,  in  its  very  signification,  tells 
him  that  he  is  related  to  the  anointed  One,  and  that 
(as  the  name  inijilies)  all  his  members,  in  their 
measv.'-e  and  degree,  are  anointed  ones.  How 
shall  they  who  take  this  sacred  unction  upon  them, 
dare  to  dishonour  this  name,  and  so  sin  against 
•Chr.-t.  —Salter. 

7.  Is  specially  hateful  In  the  sight  of  God. 

(4570.)  God  never  hates  sin  so  much  as  when 
[He  sees  it  in  His  people.  Let  those  who  have 
miade  some  advance  in  the  divine  life  especially 
inote  this,  for  it  is  in  gardens  that  weeds  are  odious  ; 
■we  do  not  blame  them  when  we  find  them  in  fields 
■and  ditches  ;  and  the  better  kept  is  the  garden,  the 
■more  unsightly  are  any  weeds  that  are  left  there. 
— R.  A.  Bertram. 

8.  A  man  may  sin  and  yet  be  a  child  of  God. 

(4571.)  A  traveller,  in  his  journey,  thinks  of 
nothing  so  much  as  his  journey's  end  :  if  he  stumble 
by  the  way,  that  is  against  his  will,  and  more  than 
he  intended  ;  and  if  he  chance  to  get  a  fall,  or  to 
go  out  of  his  way,  he  res'."?  not  till  he  be  up,  and 
in  it  again.  So  look  but  irpon  a  hunter,  he  has  no 
design  to  follow  his  way  at  all,  whether  in  the  way 
or  out  of  the  way,  his  mind  is  upon  the  game  ;  an 
archer  bends  his  bow,  delivers  his  arrow,  and 
though  it  fall  short  or  over,  on  one  side  or  other, 
his  aim  was  at  the  mark.  Thus  it  is  with  the 
children  of  God,  their  aim  is  at  heaven,  their 
thoughts  upon  Zion,  their  looks  towards  Jerusalem, 
and  their  faces  thitherward  ;  and  if  there  be  any 
aberrations  or  turning  aside,  it  is  no  more  they,  but 
sin  ihat  dwelleth  in  them.  It  is  not  so  with  the 
ungodly,  they  have  no  such  design  for  God's  glory, 
the  desire  ol  iheir  hearts  is  the  satisfaction  of  their 
lusts  and  sinful  pleasures,  they  aim  at  nothing  else 
but  sin,  and  so  in  the  end  reap  the  wretched  fruit 
of  their  own  wicked  ways.         — Westfield,  1628, 

(4572.)  A  good  man  is  not  infallible  ;  a  good  man 
may  err,  may  lall  ;  but  there  is  life  in  that  ma-..,  liiere 
is  a  principle  in  that  man  ;  fainting  is  not  dyin^. 
The  bough  may  be  borne  down  by  the  violence  of 
Ihe  flood,  l)ut  when  the  pressure  has  rolled  off,  it 
■will  regain  its  erecmess,  and  point  towards  heaven. 

—Sailer. 


(4573-)  A.  man  rescued  from  drowning,  under 
suspended  animation,  presents  no  appearance  but 
that  of  a  dead  man,  but  the  spark  of  life  is  not 
extinct,  and  with  proper  remedies  he  will  be  restored, 
and  perform  the  oftices  of  life.  So  a  strong  man, 
overcome  by  a  violent  distemper,  has  his  strength 
prostrated  to  the  ground,  and  is  as  weak  as  a  little 
child.  But  the  principle  of  manhood  is  still  within 
him,  and  once  restored  he  will  again  put  forth  the 
mightiness  of  his  strength.  In  like  manner  a  believer 
is  sometimes  beat  down  to  the  ground  with  the  force 
of  some  mighty  sin.  His  conscience,  meanwhile,  is 
like  that  of  a  man  in  a  swoon  ;  like  David,  who, 
after  the  matter  of  Uriah,  lived  on  for  a  time  with 
a  stupid  conscience.  Ikit,  as  in  the  royal  oftender, 
there  is  a  principle  of  recovery  in  him.  He  needs 
the  arrow  of  conviction,  "  thou  art  the  man,'"  to 
pierce  his  soul,  and  he  shall  straightway  be  healed. 

— Salter. 

9.  Is  hut  momentary. 

(4574.)  A  truly  gracious  man,  like  a  thorough 
good  waich,  may  deviate  and  point  wrong  for  a 
season,  but,  like  the  machine  just  mentioned,  will, 
after  a  short  time,  with  a  single  touch,  come  round, 
and  point  right  as  before. 

10.  Afterwards  makes  them  more  -watchful. 
(457S-)  The  remembrance  of  those  sorrows  and 

fears,  the  anxieties  and  indignation  against  himself 
that  sin  caused  in  a  true  penitent,  will  make  him 
jealous  for  the  future  of  his  heart,  and  circumspect 
against  all  temptations  that  may  betray  him  (2  Cor. 
vii.  11).  As  one  that  has  narrowly  esca]ied  consum- 
ing by  fire,  retains  the  idea  of  his  danger  so  deeply 
impressed  on  his  mind  that  upon  any  new  occasion 
his  ancient  fears  revive  and  make  him  very  watch- 
ful. — JSales,  1 625- 1 699. 

11.  The  fact  that  God  overrules  the  sins  of  Hia 
people  for  good  should  not  render  us  less  watchful 
against  sin. 

(4576.)  Whether  true  evangelical  humility,  and 
an  enlarged  view  of  the  grace  of  God  in  Christ, 
triumphing  over  all  obstacles,  be  ordinarily  attain- 
able without  an  experience  of  declensions,  baclc- 
slidings,  and  repeated  forgiveness,  is  the  last 
question  I  shall  consider.  I  dare  say  you  will  do 
me  the  justice  to  believe  that  I  would  not  advise 
any  one  to  run  into  sin  in  order  to  get  a  knowledge 
of  his  own  heart.  D.ivid  broke  his  bones  thereby  ; 
he  obtained  an  affecting  proof  of  his  inability  of 
standing  in  his  own  strength,  and  of  the  skill  and 
goodness  of  his  I'hysician  who  healed  him  ;  yet  no 
man  in  his  wits  would  break  his  bones  for  the  sake 
of  making  experiments,  if  he  were  ever  so  sure  they 
would  be  well  set  again.     — Newton,  1725-1807. 

12.  Should  inspire  the  ungodly  with  apprehen. 
slon. 

(4577.)  Is  it  not  evident  that  other  men's  sins 
should  move  you  to  be  the  more  religious  and  care- 
ful of  yourselves,  and  not  the  less  ?  If  you  see 
them  stumble,  you  should  look  the  better  to  your 
feet,  and  not  cast  yourselves  headlong  from  the 
rock  that  you  should  be  built  upon.  You  should 
think  ■with  yourselves,  if  such  men  are  so  faulty  for 
all  the  pains  they  take,  how  much  more  pains  must 
I  take  to  escape  such  faults?  If  they  that  run  so 
hard  shall  many  of  them  miss  of  the  prize  by  coming 
short,  it  is  a  mad  conceit  of  you  to  think  to  vvin  it 
by  sitting  still,  or  doing  less  than  they  that  lost  it 
— Baxter   1615-1691* 


sm. 


(  767  > 


S/JV. 


XVIII.  SHOULD  BE  INSTANTLY  AND 
UTTERLY  FORSAKEN. 

1.  Because  sin  In  all  Its  forms  is  the  ruin  of  the 

BOUl. 

(4578.)  As  there  is  bitterness  in  every  sprig  of 
wormwood,  and  saltness  in  every  drop  of  sea-water, 
so  there  is  death  and  hell,  and  wrath  and  damna- 
tion, in  every  sin.  — Swiniiock,  1673. 

(4579.)  Use  sin  as  it  will  use  you  ;  spare  it  not, 
for  it  will  not  sj)are  you  :  it  is  your  murderer,  and 
the  murderer  of  the  world  :  use  it,  therefore,  as  a 
murderer  should  be  used.  Kill  it  before  it  kills 
yoei  ;  and  tliough  it  kill  your  bodies,  it  shall  not  be 
al)le  to  kill  your  souls  ;  and  tliough  it  bring  you  to 
the  grave,  as  it  did  your  Head,  it  shall  not  be  able 
to  keep  you  there.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(45S0.)  Our  Lord  pronounced  the  children  of 
this  world  "  wise  in  their  generation  ;  "  and  who 
can  doulit  that  thousands  who  are  lost  would,  with 
God's  l)lessing,  be  saved,  did  they  bring  the  same 
prudence,  and  diligence,  and  energy  to  their  eternal, 
as  they  do  to  their  temporal  interests?  But  in  how 
many  people  is  consummate  wisdom  joined  to  the 
greatest  folly?  They  are  wise  enough  to  gain  the 
world,  and  fools  enough  to  lose  their  souls. 

Convince  a  man  that  the  only  way  to  save  his 
life  is  to  part  with  his  limb,  and  lie  does  not  hesi- 
tate an  instant  between  living  with  one  limb  and 
being  buried  with  two.  Borne  into  the  operating 
theatre,  pale,  yet  resolute,  he  bares  the  diseased 
member  to  the  knife.  And  how  well  does  that 
bleeding,  fainting,  groaning  sufferer  teach  us  to 
part  with  our  sins  rather  than  with  our  Saviour. 
If  life  is  better  tlian  a  limb,  how  much  better  is 
heaven  than  a  sin  ? 

Two  years  ago  a  man  was  called  to  decide  be- 
tween preserving  his  life,  and  parting  with  the  gains 
of  his  lifetime.  A  gold-digger,  he  stood  on  the 
deck  of  a  ship  that,  coming  from  Australian  shores, 
had — as  some  all  but  reach  heaven — all  but  reached 
her  harbour  in  safety.  The  exiles  had  been  coast- 
ing along  their  native  shores :  and  to-morrow, 
husbands  would  embrace  their  wives,  children  their 
parents,  and  not  a  few  realise  the  bright  dream  of 
returning  to  pass  the  evening  of  tlieir  days  in  happi- 
ness amid  the  loved  scenes  of  their  youth.  But  as 
the  proverb  runs,  there  is  much  between  the  cup 
and  the  lip.  Night  came  lowering  down  :  and  with 
the  night  a  storm  that  wrecked  ship,  and  hopes, 
and  fortunes,  all  together.  The  dawning  light  but 
revealed  a"  scene  ol  horror — death  staring  them  in 
the  face.  The  sea,  lathed  into  fury,  ran  mountains 
high  ;  no  boat  could  live  in  her.  One  chance  still 
remained.  Pale  women,  weeping  children,  feeble 
and  timid  men  must  die  ;  but  a  stout,  brave  swim- 
mer, with  trust  in  God,  and  disencumbered  of  all 
impediments,  might  reach  the  shore,  where  hundreds 
stood  ready  to  dash  mto  the  boiling  surf,  and,  seiz- 
ing, save  him.  One  man  was  observed  to  go 
below.  He  bound  around  his  waist  a  heavy  belt, 
filled  with  gold,  the  hard  gains  of  his  life;  and 
returned  to  the  deck.  One  after  anotiier,  he  saw 
his  fellow-passengers  leap  overboard.  After  a  brief 
but  terrible  struggle,  head  after  head  went  down — 
sunk  by  the  gold  they  had  fought  hard  to  gain,  and 
were  loth  to  lose.  Slowly  he  was  seen  to  unbuckle 
his  belt.  His  liopes  had  been  bound  up  in  it.  It 
was  to  buy  him  land,  and  ease,  and  resp-ect — the 


reward  of  long  years  of  hard  and  weary  exile. 
What  hardships  he  had  endured  for  it  !  The  sweat 
of  his  brow,  the  hopes  of  day  and  the  dreams  of 
night,  were  there.  If  he  parts  with  it,  he  is  a 
beggar ;  but  then  if  he  keeps  it,  he  dies.  He 
poised  it  in  his  hand  ;  balanced  it  for  a  while  ;  took 
a  long,  sad  look  at  it  ;  and  then  with  one  strong, 
desperate  effort,  flung  it  far  out  into  the  roaring 
sea.  Wise  man  !  It  sinks  with  a  sullen  plunge  ; 
and  now  he  follows  it — not  to  sink,  but,  disen- 
cumbered of  its  weight,  to  swim  ;  to  beat  the 
billows  manfully ;  and,  riding  on  the  foaming 
surge,  to  reach  the  shore.  Well  done,  brave  gold- 
digger  !  Ay,  well  done,  and  well  chosen  ;  but  if 
"a  man,"  as  the  devil  said,  who  for  once  spoke 
God's  truth,  "  will  give  all  that  he  hath  for  his  life," 
how  much  more  should  he  give  all  he  hath  for  his 
soul?  Better  to  part  with  gold  tlian  with  God  ;  to 
bear  the  heaviest  cross  than  miss  a  heavenly  crown  t 

— Giethrit. 

(4581.)  A  great  warrior  was  once  persuaded  by 
his  enemies  to  put  on  a  beautiful  robe,  which  they 
presented  him.  Not  suspecting  their  design,  he 
wrapped  himself  tightly  in  it,  but  in  a  few  moments 
found  that  it  was  coated  on  the  inside  with  a  deadly 
poison.  It  stuck  to  his  flesh  as  if  it  had  been  glued. 
The  poison  entered  into  his  flesh,  so  that,  in  trying 
to  throw  off  the  cloak,  he  was  left  torn  and  bleed- 
ing. But  did  he  for  that  reason  hesitate  about 
taking  it  off?  Did  he  stop  to  think  whether  it  was 
painful  or  not?  Did  he  say,  "Let  me  wait  and 
think  about  it  awhile"?  No,  he  had  more  sense 
than  that.  He  tore  it  off  at  once,  and  threw  it  from 
him,  and  hastened  away  from  it  to  the  physician. 
Sinner,  this  is  the  way  you  must  treat  your  sins  if 
you  would  be  saved.  They  have  gone  into  your 
soul.  If  you  let  them  alone  you  perish.  You  must 
not  fear  the  pain  of  repentance.  You  should  cast 
them  from  you  as  poison,  and  hasten  away  by  faith 
to  Jesus  Clirist,  the  only  Physician  who  can  cure 
you,  by  His  own  blood  applied  to  your  hearts.  Do 
this,  or  your  sins  will  consume  you  like  fire. 

—Meade. 

2.  Because  one  sin  leads  to  another. 

(4582.)  Sins  are  like  circles  formed  in  the  watei 
when  a  stone  is  thrown  into  it  ;  one  produce* 
another.  When  anger  was  in  Cain's  breast,  murdei 
was  not  far  off.  — Eliza  Cook. 

3.  Because  even  one  sin  Is  enough  to  enslave 
and  destroy  the  soul. 

(4583.)  If  seven  thieves  shall  enter  a  man's  house, 
and,  six  of  them  being  overcome,  the  seventh  lie 
lurking  in  some  secret  corner,  tlie  master  of  that 
house  cannot  but  sleep  in  danger  ;  and''  a  bird 
falling  into  a  snare,  or  a  mouse  being  taken  in  a 
trap,  if  the  one  be  but  held  by  the  claw,  or  the 
other  by  the  end  of  the  tail,  they  are  both  in  as 
much  danger  as  if  their  whole  bodies  were  sur- 
prised. Tiius  it  is  that  all  sin,  and  the  least  sin, 
must  be  repented  of.  Pharaoh,  being  smitten  with 
many  plagues,  is  willing  at  last  to  let  the  people  go, 
so  as  they  would  leave  their  sheep  and  their  cattle 
behind  them.  "  No,"  says  Moses,  "  that  cannot 
be  ;  all  the  flocks  and  herds  shall  go  along  with  us, 
not  a  hoof  shall  be  left."  And  Satan,  like  Pharaoh, 
would  keep  something  of  sin  in  us,  which  may  be 
as  a  pledge  of  our  returning  to  him  again  ;  though 
sin  be  taken  away,  yet  he  would  have  the  occasion* 


SIN. 


C    768    ) 


SLV. 


of  sin  to  remain.  "  Leave  gaming,"  says  he,  "  but 
let  not  the  cards  and  dice  be  burnt  ;  thou  mayest 
cease  to  be  a  fornicator,  but  do  not  pull  out  thy 
wanton  eye  ;  thou  must  not  hate  thine  enemy,  yet 
what  neces-ity  is  there  that  thou  shouldest  love 
him?"  '1  his  is  the  voice  of  Satan.  But  God 
bespeaks  the  sinner  after  anotlier  manner  :  He 
will  have  all  sin  to  be  repented  of;  not  so  much 
as  the  occason  of  sin  shall  remain  ;  which,  if  it  do, 
Satan  will  make  a  re-entry,  and  then  the  end  shall 
be  worse  than  the  beginning.  — Stapleton. 

(4584.)  As  an  eagle,  though  she  enjoy  her  wings 
and  beak,  is  \\holly  prisoner  if  she  be  held  but  by 
one  talon  ;  so  are  we,  though  we  could  be  delivered 
of  all  habit  of  sin,  in  bondage  still,  if  vanity  hold  us 
but  by  a  silken  thread.         — Donne,  1573-1631. 

(4585.)  Observe,  before  pardon  can  be  sealed,  he 
must  forsake  not  this  sin,  or  that,  but  the  whole  law  of 
sin.  ^^  Let  the  %vicked forsake  his  way."  A  traveller 
may  step  from  one  path  to  another,  and  still  go  on 
the  same  way,  leave  a  dirty,  deep,  rugged  path,  for 
one  more  smooth  and  even  ;  so  many  finding  some 
gross  sins  uneasy,  and  too  toilsome  to  their  awakened 
consciences,  step  into  a  more  cleanly  path  of  civility  ; 
but  alas  !  poor  creatures,  all  they  get  is  to  go  a  little 
more  easily  and  cleanly  to  hell,  than  their  beastly 
neighbours  ;  but  he  forsakes  the  way  of  sin,  that 
turns  out  of  the  whole  road  ;  in  a  word,  thou  must 
forsake  the  blindest  path  of  all  in  sin's  way,  that 
which  lies  behind  the  hedge,  as  I  may  so  say,  in  the 
thoughts  of  the  heart,  "  and  the  ttnrighttons  his 
ihou\^hts ;'"  or  else  thou  knockest  in  vain  at  God's 
door  for  pardoning  mercy,  and  therefore,  poor  soul, 
forsake  all  or  none.  This  halving  with  sin  is  ridicu- 
lous. Art  thou  afraid  of  this  sin,  and  not  of  a 
less,  which  hinders  thy  peace,  and  procures  thy 
danmation  as  sure,  only  not  with  so  much  distrac- 
tion to  thy  drowsy  conscience  at  present  ?  This  is 
as  ridiculous,  as  it  was  with  him,  who  being  to  be 
hanged,  desired  that  he  might  by  no  means  go 
through  such  a  street  to  the  gallows,  for  fear  of  the 
plague  that  was  there.  What  wilt  thou  get  poor 
sinner,  if  thou  goest  to  hell,  though  thou  goest  thither 
by  thy  ignorance,  unbelief,  spiritual  pride,  &c. ,  yet 
led  about  so,  as  to  escape  the  plague  of  open  pro- 
faneness?  — G'urnall,  1617-1679. 

(4586.)  While  I  was  walking  in  the  garden  one 
bright  morning,  a  breeze  came  through  and  set  all 
the  flowers  and  leaves  a  fluttering.  Now,  that  is 
the  way  flowers  talk,  so  I  pricked  up  my  ears  and 
listened. 

Presently  an  old  elder  tree  said,  "  Flowers,  shake 
off  your  caterpillars  !" 

"  Why  i" "'  said  a  dozen  all  together. 

The  elder  said,  "  If  you  dtn't,  they'll  eat  you  up 
alive." 

So  the  flowers  set  themselves  a  shaking  till  the 
caterpillars  were  shaken  off. 

In  one  of  ihe  middle  beds  there  was  a  beautiful 
rose,  who  shook  off  all  but  one,  and  she  said  to 
herself,  "  Oh,  that's  a  beauty  1    I'll  keep  that  one." 

The  elder  overheard  her,  and  called  out,  "One 
caterpillar  is  enou_yh  to  spoil  you." 

"But,"  said  the  rose,  "look  at  his  brown  and 
crimson  fur,  and  his  beautiful  black  eyes,  and  scores 
of  little  teet ;  I  want  to  keep  him  ;  surely  one  won't 
hurt  me." 

A  lew  mornings  after,  I  passed  the  rose  again  ; 


there  was  not  a  whole  leaf  on  her  ;  her  beauty  was 
gone  ;  she  was  all  but  killed,  and  had  only  life 
enough  to  weep  over  her  folly,  while  the  tears  siuod 
like  dew-drops  on  her  tattered  leaves.  "  Alas  1  I 
didn't  think  one  caterpillar  would  ruin  me." 

—  C.  A,  Davis. 

4.  Because  our  next  transgression  may  bring 
down  on  us  the  vengeance  we  have  long  deserved. 

(4587.)  We  commonly  say,  it  is  not  the  last 
blow  of  the  axe  that  fells  the  oak  :  perhaps  the 
last  may  be  a  weaker  blow  than  any  of  the  loimer, 
but  the  other  blows  made  way  for  the  felling  ol  it, 
and  at  length  a  little  blow  comes  and  coni]iletes 
it.  So  our  former  sins  may  be  the  things  that 
make  way  for  our  ruin,  and  then  at  length  souic 
lesser  sins  may  accomplish  it. 

— Bim'oughs,  1 599- 1 646. 

(4588.)  Didst  thou  know  that  God  remembers 
the  sins  of  thy  youth,  and  thy  maturer  age,  thou 
wouldst  fear  that,  on  the  next  sin  thou  committest, 
God  might  bring  upon  thee  all  thy  previous  trans- 
gressions. As  a  man  that  has  used  his  body  to 
drink  poison  for  a  time  may  do  well,  but  at  last 
he  is  overcome  and  destroys  himself;  so  the  nex 
sin  which  thou  committest,  though  it  be  less  than 
former  transgressions,  it  may  set  all  the  rest  on 
working ;  as,  suppose  there  be  many  barrels  of 
gunpowder  in  a  room,  and  a  few  grains  lie  scattered 
about,  and  a  spark  falls  into  that,  and  so  fires  all 
the  rest  ;  so  thy  former  sins  are  as  the  barrels  of 
gunpowder,  the  next  sin  thou  committest,  especially 
if  a  sin  against  knowledge,  may  be  the  grains  wiiich 
set  all  the  rest  on  work  to  pull  down  judgment 
upon  thee.  — Burroughs,  1 599-1646. 

6.  Because  sin  was  the  cause  of  Christ's  death. 

(45S9. )  Suppose  a  man  should  come  to  a  table 
and  there  is  a  knife  laid  at  his  trencher,  and  it 
should  be  told  him,  "  This  Is  the  knife  that  cut  the 
throat  of  your  child,  or  yonr  father;"  if  he  could 
now  use  that  knife  as  any  oth<;r  knife  would  not 
one  say,  "  Surely  there  was  but  little  love  either 
to  the  father  or  to  the  child  !  '  So,  when  there  is 
a  temptation  to  any  sin,  this  is  the  knife  that  cut 
the  throat  of  Christ,  that  pierced  His  sides,  that 
was  the  cause  of  His  sufferings,  that  made  Christ  to 
be  a  curse.  Now,  wilt  thou  not  look  on  that  as  a 
cursed  thing  that  made  Christ  to  be  a  curse  ?  Oh, 
with  what  detestation  would  a  man  or  woman  fling 
away  such  a  knife  I  and  with  the  like  detestation  it 
is  required  that  a  man  should  renounce  sin  ;  for 
that,  and  that  only,  was  the  cause  of  the  death  of 
Christ.  — Alphonsus  ab  Avcndano. 

(4590.)  Shall  we  continue  in  sin  (Rom.  vi.  i) 
after  we  know  what  it  cost  Christ  to  expiate  our 
sins?  God  forbid  !  When  Mark  Antony  addressed 
the  citizens  of  Rome,  to  animate  them  to  revenge 
the  death  of  Caesar,  he  enlarged  upon  Cassar's 
character,  his  great  actions,  his  love  to  the  Roman 
people,  and  the  evidence  he  had  given  of  it  in  the 
donations  and  bequests  he  had  appointed  them  by 
his  will,  the  particulars  of  which  he  specified. 
When  he  had  thus  engaged  their  admiration  and 
gratitude,  and  they  discovered  emotions  of  regret 
and  sensibility  tliat  Caesar,  the  greatest  character 
in  Rome,  who  had  fought  and  triumplied  for  them, 
and  had  remembered  them  in  his  will,  should  be 
slain,  Antony  threw  aside  a  cloth,  and  showed  them 
his  dead    body  covered   with  wounds   and    tlood. 


S/N. 


(    769    ) 


S/N. 


This  sight  rendered  it  needless  to  say  more.  The 
whole  assembly  united  as  one  man,  to  search  out, 
and  to  destroy  his  murderers.  The  application  is 
obvious. — May  our  hearts,  from  this  hour,  be  filled 
with  a  determined,  invariable  resentment  against 
sin,  the  procuring  causa  of  the  humiliation  and 
death  of  our  best  friend  and  benefactor. 

— Newton,  1 725-1807. 

6.  Because  God  hates  it. 

(4591.)  As  it  is  with  two  children,  the  one  for- 
bears to  touch  a  coal,  because  it  will  black  and 
smut  his  hand  ;  the  other  will  not  by  any  nwans  be 
brought  to  handle  it,  because  he  perceives  it  to  be 
a  fire-coal,  and  will  burn  his  fingers  :  thus,  all 
ungodly  men,  they  will  not  touch  sin  b;:.;ause  it 
w^l  burn  ;  they  may  be,  and  often  are,  troubled 
for  sin,  but  their  di>quietness  for  sin  ariseth  more 
from  the  evil  of  punishment,  the  effect  of  sin,  than 
from  the  evil  that  is  in  the  nature  of  sin  ;  they  are 
troubled  for  sin,  but  it  is  because  sin  doth  destroy 
the  soul,  and  not  because  sin  doth  defile  the  soul  ; 
because  God  pursueth  sin,  and  not  because  He 
hates  sin  ;  more,  because  it  is  against  God's  jus- 
tice that  is  provoked,  than  because  it  is  against  the 
holiness  of  God  which  is  dishonoured  ;  because 
God  threatens  sin,  not  because  God  doth  forbid 
sin  ;  because  of  the  hell  for  sin,  not  because  of  the 
hell  in  sin.  But  now,  on  the  other  side,  all  good 
and  godly  men,  they  hate  and  loathe  sin,  because 
it  is  of  a  smutting  and  defiling  nature,  because  it  is 
against  the  nature  of  God,  because  God  loathes  and 
hates  it,  more  because  it  is  against  God's  command 
than  because  God  doth  punish  it ;  not  because  of 
the  damning  power  of  sin,  but  because  of  the  defil- 
ing power  of  sin,  &c.  — Inchinus. 

7.  Because  sin  In  all  Its  forms  and  degrees  is 
hateful. 

(4592.)  If  sin  be  evil,  and  displease  God,  and 
deserve  damnation,  he  that  most  fully  and  carefully 
avoideth  it,  is  the  honestest  and  the  wisest  man. 
You  will  not  blame  your  child  or  servant  for  being 
loath  to  offend  and  disobey  you  even  in  the  smallest 
matter.  You  like  not  him  that  offereth  you  tlie 
least  abuse,  so  well  as  him  that  oflereth  you  none. 
You  had  rather  be  well  than  have  the  least  disease. 
You  will  not  take  a  little  poison,  nor  would  you 
feel  a  little  of  hell.  Why  then  should  we  not  avoid 
the  least  sin  so  far  as  we  are  able  ? 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4593.)  There  may  be  a  forsaking  of  a  particular 
sin  that  has  been  delightful  and  predominant  wiih- 
out  sincerity  towaids  God,  for  another  lust  may 
have  got  possession  of  the  heart,  and  take  the 
throne.  There  is  an  alternate  succession  of  appe- 
tites in  the  corrupt  nature,  according  to  the  change 
of  men's  temper  or  interests  in  the  world.  As 
seeds  sown  in  that  order  in  a  garden,  that  'tis 
always  full  of  a  succession  of  fruits  and  herbs  in 
season  ;  so  original  sin  that  is  sown  in  our  nature 
is  productive  of  diverse  lusts,  some  in  the  spring, 
others  in  the  summer  of  our  age,  some  in  the 
autumn,  others  in  the  winter.  Sensual  lusts  flourish 
'xi  youth,  but  when  mature  age  has  cooled  these 
desires,  worldly  lusts  succeed ;  in  old  age  there  is 
no  relish  for  sensuality,  but  covetousness  reigns 
imperiously.  Now  he  that  expels  one  sin  and 
entertains  another  continLes  in  a  state  of  sin  ;  'tis 
but  exchanging  one  familiar  for   another ;    or,  to 


borrow  the  prophet's  expression,  '"Tis  as  one 
should  fly  from  a  lion,  and  meet  with  a  bear  that 
will  as  certainly  devour  him."  — Salter. 

(4594.)  Thou  dost  not  hate  sin  if  thou  only  hatest 
some  one  sin.  All  iniquity  will  be  distasteful  in  thy 
sight  if  God  the  Holy  Spirit  has  really  made  thee 
to  loathe  iniquity.  If  I  say  to  a  person,  "  I  will 
not  receive  you  into  my  house  when  you  come 
dressed  in  such  a  coat ; "  but  if  I  open  the  door  to 
him  when  he  has  on  another  suit  which  is  more 
resjiectable,  it  is  evident  that  my  objection  was  not 
to  the  person,  but  to  his  clothes.  If  a  man  will  not 
cheat  when  the  transaction  is  open  to  the  world, 
but  will  do  so  in  a  more  secret  way,  or  in  a  kind 
of  adulteration  which  is  winked  at  in  the  trade,  the 
man  does  not  hate  cheating,  he  only  hales  that  kind 
of  it  which  is  sure  to  be  found  out  ;  he  likes  the 
thing  itself  very  well.  Some  sinners,  they  say  they 
hate  sin.  Not  at  all  ;  sin  in  its  essence  is  pleasing 
enough  ;  it  is  only  a  glaring  shape  of  it  which  they 
dislike.  — Spurgeon. 

•^4595.)  If  we  would  realise  the  full  force  of  the 
term  "hatred  of  evil,"  as  it  ought  to  exist  in  all, 
as  it  would  exist  in  a  perfectly  righteous  man,  we 
shall  do  well  to  consider  how  sensitive  we  are  to 
natural  evil  in  its  every  form — to  pain,  and  suffering, 
and  misfortune.  How  delicately  is  the  physical 
frame  of  man  constructed,  and  how  keenly  is  the 
slightest  derangement  in  any  part  of  it  felt !  A 
little  mote  in  the  eye,  hardly  discernible  by  the  eye 
of  another,  the  swelling  of  a  small  gland,  the  deposit 
of  a  small  grain  of  sand,  what  agonies  may  these 
slight  causes  inflict  !  That  fine  filament  of  nerves 
of  feeling  spread  like  a  wonderful  network  of  gos- 
samer over  the  whole  surface  of  the  body,  how 
exquisitely  susceptible  is  it  !  A  trifling  bum,  or 
scald,  or  incision,  how  does  it  cause  the  member 
affected  to  be  drawn  back  suddenly,  and  the  patient 
to  cry  out  !  Now  there  can  be  no  question  that  if 
man  were  in  a  perfectly  moral  state,  moral  evil 
would  affect  his  mind  as  sensibly  and  in  as  lively  a 
manner — would,  in  short,  be  as  much  of  an  affliction 
to  him  as  pain  is  to  his  physical  frame.  He  would 
shrink  and  snatch  himself  away,  as  sin  came  near 
to  his  consciousness  ;  the  first  entrance  of  it  mto  his 
imagination  would  wound  and  arouse  his  moral 
sensibilities,  and  make  him  positively  unhappy. 

—  CouLbum, 

8.  Because  the  consequences  of  sin  are  so  fax 

reaching-, 

(4596.)  Sages  of  old  contended  that  no  sin  was 
ever  committed  whose  consequences  rested  on  the 
head  of  the  sinner  alone  ;  that  no  man  could  do  ill 
and  his  fellows  not  suffer.  They  illustrated  it  thus: — 
"  A  vessel  sailing  from  Joppa,  carried  a  passenger, 
who,  beneath  his  berth,  cut  a  hole  through  the  ship's 
side.  When  the  men  of  the  watch  expostulated  with 
him,  "What  doest  thou,  O  miserable  man?"  the 
offender  calmly  replied,  "  What  matters  it  to  you  ? 
The  hole  1  have  made  lies  under  my  own  berth," 

This  ancient  parable  is  worthy  of  the  utmost  con- 
sideration. No  man  perishes  alone  in  his  iniquity; 
no  man  can  guess  the  full  consequences  of  his 
transgression,  — Spurgeon, 

9.  It  must  be  renounced  in  the  heart  as  well  as 
in  the  outward  life. 

(4597.)  Observable  is  the  story  of  Phaltiel : 
David  had  married  Michal,  Saul  'njuriously  gave 

3C 


SIN. 


(    770    ) 


SIN. 


her  to  another.  When  David  came  to  the  crown 
and  was  able  to  speak  a  word  of  command,  he 
sends  for  his  wife  Michal  ;  her  husband  dares  no 
bill  obey,  brings  her  on  her  journey,  and  then,  not 
without  great  rehictancy  of  spirit,  talces  his  leave 
of  her.  But  what  ?  Was  Phaliiel  weary  of  his  wife, 
that  he  now  forsakes  her?  No,  he  was  enforced  ; 
and  though  she  were  gone,  he  cast  many  a  sad 
thouglil  alter  her,  and  never  leaves  looking  till  he 
sees  her  as  far  as  Bahurim,  weeping  and  bemoaning 
her  absence.  Tims,  carnal  and  unregenerate  men, 
though,  for  fear  or  some  other  reasons,  they  shake 
hands  with  their  sins,  yet  they  have  many  a  longing 
heart  after  them  :  they  part,  and  yet  they  are  loth  to 
part  asunder. 

Hence  it  is,  that  as  the  merchant  throws  away 
his  goods  in  a  storm  because  he  cannot  keep  them, 
SO  they,  in  the  times  of  sickness  and  distress,  when 
the  sea  grows  high  and  the  tempest  rageth,  when 
they  begin  to  apprehend  what  death  is  and  what 
hell  is,  and  know,  unless  the  vessel  be  lighted,  they 
cannot  be  safe,  then  they  are  hard  at  work,  heave 
overboard  llieir  usury,  their  drunkenness,  their 
swearing,  and  such  like  stuff,  not  out  of  hatred  to 
them,  but  love  to  tliemselves  ;  lor  if  they  could  but 
continue  in  their  sins  and  be  saved  when  they  have 
done,  they  would  never  part  with  them  at  all. 

— Sliles,  1627. 

(4598.)  Clii>  the  hairs  short,  yet  they  will  grow 
again,  because  the  roots  are  in  the  skull.  A  tree 
that  is  but  pruned,  shred,  tojiped,  or  lopped,  will 
sprout  again  :  root  it  up,  and  it  shall  grow  no  more. 
What  is  it  to  clip  the  outward  appearances,  and  to 
lop  the  superfluous  boughs  of  our  sins,  when  the 
root  is  cherished  in  tlie  heart?      — Adams,  1654. 

(4599.)  Men  may  forbear  sin  that  do  not  hate  it  : 
they  forliear  it  by  constraint,  for  fear  of  punishment, 
shame,  worldly  ends,  but  regard  it  in  their  hearts. 
The  dog  has  a  mind  to  the  pail,  but  fears  the 
cudgel.     But  God  judges  not  as  man  judges. 

— Mantoii,  1620-1677. 

(4600.)  All  tlie  Israelites  departed  in  reality  out 
of  the  land  of  Egypt,  but  they  did  not  depart  in 
affection  ;  wherelore,  in  the  wilderness,  many  of 
them  repined  that  they  had  not  tlie  onions  and 
fiesli-pots  of  Egypt.  So  there  are  penitents,  who 
in  effect  forsake  sin,  but  not  in  affection  ;  that  is, 
they  purpose  to  sin  no  more,  but  it  is  with  a  certain 
rehictancy  of  heart  to  abstain  from  the  mischievous 
delight  of  sin.  Their  heart  renounces  sin  and 
avoids  it,  but  ceases  not  often  to  luok  back  that 
way,  as  Lot's  wife  did  towards  Sodom.  They 
abstain  from  sin,  as  sick  men  do  from  melons, 
which  they  forbear,  because  tlie  physician  threatens 
tliem  with  death  if  they  eat  theui  ;  but  it  is  trouble- 
some to  them  to  refrain  ;  they  talk  of  them  and 
are  unwilling  to  believe  them  hurtful  ;  tliey  would 
at  least  smell  them,  and  account  those  happy  who 
may  eat  them.  — Francis  de  Sales. 

(4601.)  To  forsake  sin,  is  to  leave  it  without  any 
thought  reserved  of  returning  to  it  again.  Every 
time  a  man  takes  a  journey  from  home  about  bubi- 
Oess,  we  do  not  say  he  haih  forsaken  his  house, 
because  he  meant  when  he  went  out  to  come  to  it 
again.  No,  but  when  we  see  a  man  leave  his 
house,  carry  all  his  stuff  away  with  him,  lock  up  his 
doors,  and  take  up  his  abode  in  another,  never  to 
dwell  there  more  ;  here's  a  man  hith  indeed  forsaken 


his  house.  It  were  strange  to  find  a  drunkard  so 
constant  in  the  exercise  of  that  sin,  but  some  times 
you  may  find  him  sober  :  and  yet  a  drunkard  he  is, 
as  well  as  if  he  were  then  drunk.  Every  one  hath 
not  forsaken  his  trade  that  we  see  now  and  then  in 
their  holy-day  suit  ;  then  tlie  man  forsakes  his  sin, 
when  he  throws  it  from  him  and  bolts  the  door 
upon  it  with  a  purpose  never  to  open  more  to  it, 
''^  Ephrann  shall  say.  What  have  1  to  do  any  mort 
with  idols  1"  — Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(4602.)  I  once  walked  into  a  garden  with  a  lady 
to  gather  some  flowers.  There  was  one  large  bush 
whose  branches  were  bending  under  the  weight  of 
the  most  beautiful  roses.  We  both  gazed  upon  it 
with  pdmiraiion.  There  was  one  flower  on  it  which 
seemed  to  shine  above  all  the  rest  in  beauty.  This 
lady  pressed  forward  into  the  thick  bush,  and 
reached  far  over  to  pluck  it.  As  she  did  this, 
a  black  snake,  which  was  hid  in  the  bush,  wrapped 
itself  round  her  arm.  Slie  was  alarmed  beyond  all 
description  ;  and  ran  from  the  garden,  screaming, 
and  almost  in  convulsions.  During  all  that  day 
she  suffered  very  much  with  fear  ;  her  wliole  body 
trembk-d,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  she  could 
be  quieted.  That  lady  is  still  alive.  Such  is  her 
hatred  now  of  the  whole  serpent  race,  that  she  has 
never  since  been  able  to  lookr  at  a  snake,  even 
though  it  were  dead.  No  one  could  ever  persuade 
her  to  venture  again  into  a  cluster  of  bushes,  even 
to  pKick  a  beautiful  rose.  Now  this  is  the  way 
the  sinner  acts  who  truly  repents  of  his  sins.  He 
thinks  of  sin  as  the  serpent  that  once  coiled  itself 
round  him.  He  hates  u.  He  dreads  it.  He  flies 
from  it.  He  fears  the  places  where  it  inhabits. 
He  does  not  willingly  go  into  the  haunts.  He  will 
no  more  play  with  sin  than  this  lady  would  after- 
wards have  fondled  snakes.  — Meade. 

XIX.    ITS   PUNISHMENT. 
1.  Is  certain. 

(4603.)  No  closer  doth  'he  shadow  follow  the 
body  than  the  revenge  of  self-accusation  follows 
sin.  Walk  eastward  in  the  morning,  the  shadow 
starts  behind  thee  :  soon  after  it  is  upon  thy  left 
side  ;  a'  noon  it  is  under  thy  feet  ;  lie  down,  it 
coucheth  under  thee  ;  towaras  even  n  icaps  before 
thee.  Thou  canst  not  be  rid  of  it  while  thou  hast 
a  body  and  the  sun  light.  No  more  can  thy  soul 
quit  the  conscience  of  evil.  This  is  to  thee  instead 
of  a  hell  of  fiends,  that  shall  ever  be  shaking  fire- 
brands at  thee;  ever  torturing  thee  with  affrights  of 
more  pains  than  thy  nature  can  comprehend  :  Sava 
conturiiata  conscicntia  (y^'\%<l.  xvii.  11). 

—J Jail,  1 5  74- 1 656. 

(4604.)  As  where  punishment  is  there  was  sin  ; 
so  where  sin  is  there  will  be,  there  must  be,  punish- 
ment. "  If  thou  doest  ill,"  saith  God  to  Cain, 
"sin  lies  at  thy  door"  (Gen.  iv.  7).  Sin,  that  is, 
punishment  for  sin  :  they  are  so  inseparable  that 
the  one  word  im[)lies  both  ;  for  the  doing  ill  is  the 
sin  that  is  within  doors  ;  but  the  suffering  ill  is  the 
punishment,  and  that  lies  like  a  fierce  mastiff  at  the 
door,  and  is  ready  to  fly  in  our  throat  when  we 
look  forth,  and  if  it  do  not  then  seize  upon  us,  yet 
it  dogs  us  at  the  heels,  and  will  be  sure  to  fasten 
upon  us  at  our  greatest  disadvantages  :  Tu7n  gravior 
ciim  tarda  venit,  &c.  Joseph's  brethren  had  done 
heinously  ill  :  what  becomes  of  their  sin  ?  it  makes 
no  noise,  but  follows  them  silly  and  silently  in  the 


SIN. 


(    771    ) 


STN. 


wilderness;  it  follows  them  home  to  their  father's 
house  ;  it  follows  them  into  Kgypt.  All  this  while 
there  is  no  news  of  it  ;  but  when  it  found  them 
cooped  up  three  days  in  Pharaoh's  ward,  now  it 
bays  at  them,  and  flies  in  their  faces.  "  We  are 
verily  guilty  concerning  our  brother  in  that  we  saw 
the  anguish  of  his  soul,"  &c.  (Gen.  xlii.  21). 

What  should  I  instance  in  that,  wliereof  not 
Scripture,  not  books,  but  the  whole  world  is  full — 
the  inevitable  sequences  of  sin  and  punishment? 
Neither  can  it  be  otherwise.  "  Shall  not  the  Jud;^e 
of  all  the  earth  do  right?"  saith  Abraham.  A'/^ht, 
is  to  give  every  one  his  due  :  wages  is  due  to  work  ; 
now  "  the  wages  of  sin  is  death."  So,  then,  it  stands 
upon  no  less  ground  than  very  necessary  and  essential 
justice  to  God,  that  where  wickedness  hath  led  the 
way,  there  punishment  must  follow. 

— IJall,  1574-1656. 

(4605.)  Fearful  it  is  to  consider  that  sin  does  not 
only  drive  us  into  calamity,  but  it  makes  us  also 
impatient,  and  embitters  our  spirit  in  the  sufferance  : 
it  cries  aloud  for  vengeance,  and  so  torments  men 
before  the  time  even  with  such  fearful  outcries,  and 
horrid  alarms,  that  their  hell  beL;ins  before  the  fire 
is  kindled.  It  hinders  our  prayers,  and  consequently 
makes  us  hopeless  and  helpless.  It  perpetually 
affrights  the  conscience,  unless  by  its  frequent  stripes 
it  brings  a  callousness  and  an  insensible  damnation 
upon  it.  It  makes  us  to  lose  all  that  which  Christ 
purchased  for  us, — ail  the  blessings  of  His  provi- 
dence, the  comforts  of  His  Spirit,  the  aids  of  His 
grace,  the  light  of  His  countenance,  the  hopes  of 
His  glory.  — -Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 

(4606.)  Terror  and  trouble  are  the  shadow  of  sin, 
that  follow  it  though  the  sun  shine  never  so  brightly. 
If  we  carry  tire  in  our  clothes,  we  shall  smell  it  at 
the  least.  —^aj^/^r,  1615-1691. 

(4607,)  If  any  sinner  be  free  from  outward  afflic- 
tions and  sufferings,  yet  sin  never  fails  to  cany  its 
own  punishment  along  with  it  ;  there  is  a  secret 
sting  and  woim,  a  divine  nemesis  and  revenge  that 
is  bred  in  the  bowels  of  every  sin,  and  makes  it  a 
heavy  punishment  to  itself;  the  conscience  of  a 
sinner  doth  frequently  torment  him,  and  his  guilt 
haunts  and  dogs  him  wherever  he  goes  ;  for  when- 
ever a  man  commits  a  known  and  wilful  sin,  he 
drinks  down  poison,  which,  though  it  may  work 
slowly,  yet  it  will  give  him  many  a  gripe,  and  if  no 
means  be  used  to  expel  it,  will  destroy  iiim  at  last. 
—  TiUotson,  1630-1694. 

(4608.)  There  is  no  sin  but  is  attended  and 
surrounded  with  so  many  miseries  and  adherent 
bitternesses,  that  it  is  at  the  best  but  like  a  single 
drop  of  honey  in  a  sea  of  gall. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

(4609.)  Crime  and  punishment  grow  out  of  one 
stem.  Punishment  is  a  fruit  that,  unsuspected, 
ripens  wiihiq  the  tiower  of  the  pleasure  tliat  con- 
cealed it  — Etnerson. 

(4610.)  What  a  diabolical  invention  was  the 
"Virgin's  kiss,"  once  used  by  the  fathers  of  the 
Inquisition  !  The  victim  was  pushed  forward  to 
kiss  the  image,  when,  lo,  its  arms  enclosed  him  in 
a  deadly  embrace,  piercing  his  body  with  a  hundred 
hidden  knives.  The  tempting  pleasures  of  sin  offer 
to  the  unwary  just  such  a  virgin's  kiss     The  sinful 


joys  of  the  flesh  lead,  even  in  this  world,  to  results 
most  terrible,  while  in  tlie  world  to  come  the 
dagL^ers  of  remorse  and  despair  will  cut  and  wound 
beyond  all  remedy.  — Spurgeon. 

2.  "Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  lie 
also  reap." 

(4611.)  The  labourer  can  hope  to  reap  a  harvest 
only  of  the  same  nature  as  the  seed  he  has  sown. 
Pleasures,  human  consolations,  indul,;ences  of  sense, 
the  satisfactions  of  our  own  wills,  are  the  seeds  of 
all  those  miseries,  which  attain  the  full  expansion 
of  their  deadly  fruits  in  hell.  I>ut,  on  the  contrary, 
whilst  the  indulgence  of  an  evil  nature  yields  these 
unhappy  fruits,  a  sjiiritual  submission,  for  Christ's 
sake,  to  crosses,  to  humiliations,  self-denials  and 
contradictions,  are  those  seeds  which  bear  their  full 
and  blessed  fruits  of  holiness  and  happiness  in  the 
world  to  come.  — M.  de  Si.  Alarthe. 

(4612.)  The  whole  force  of  life  and  experienca 
goes  to  prove  that  right  or  wrong  doing,  whether 
in  relation  to  the  physical  or  the  spiritual  nature,  is 
sure,  in  the  end,  to  meet  its  appropriate  reward  or 
punishment.  Penalties  are  olten  so  long  delayed 
that  men  think  they  shall  escape  tliem  ;  but  some 
time  they  are  certain  to  follow.  When  the  whirl- 
wind sweeps  through  the  forest,  at  its  first  breath, 
or  almost  as  if  the  fearful  stillness  that  precedes  had 
crushed  it,  the  giant  tree  with  all  its  Ijoughs  falls, 
crashing  to  the  ground.  But  it  had  been  prepar- 
ing to  lall  for  twenty  years.  Twenty  years  belore 
it  received  a  gash.  Twenty  years  before  the  water 
commenced  to  settle  in  at  some  crotch,  and  from 
thence  decay  began  to  reach  in  with  its  silent  fingers 
towards  the  heart  of  the  tree.  Every  year  the  work 
of  death  progressed,  till  at  length  it  stood,  all 
rottenness,  only  clasped  about  by  the  bark  with  a 
semblance  of  life,  and  the  first  gale  felled  it  to  the 
ground.  Now,  there  are  men  who  for  twenty  years 
have  shamed  the  day  and  wearied  the  night  with 
their  debaucheries,  but  who  yet  seem  strong  and 
vigorous,  and  exclaim,  "You  need  not  talk  of 
penalties.  Look  at  me  !  I  have  revelled  in  plea- 
sure for  twenty  years,  and  I  am  as  hale  and  hearty 
to-day  as  ever."  But  in  reality  they  are  full  of 
weakness  and  decay.  They  have  been  preparing  to 
fall  for  twenty  years,  and  the  first  disease  strikes 
them  down  in  a  moment. 

Ascending  from  the  physical  nature  of  man  to  the 
mind  and  character,  we  find  the  same  laws  prevail. 
People  sometimes  say,  "Dishonesty  is  as  good  as 
honesty,  for  aught  I  see.  There  are  such  and  such 
men  who  have  pursued  for  years  the  most  corrupt 
courses  in  their  business,  and  yet  they  prosper,  and 
are  getting  rich  every  day."  Wait  till  you  see  their 
end.  Every  year  how  many  such  men  are  overtaken 
with  sudden  destruction,  and  swept  for  ever  out  o' 
sight  and  remembrance?  Many  a  man  has  gone 
on  in  sin,  practicing  secet  frauds  and  villanies,  yet 
trusted  and  honoured,  till  at  length,  in  some  un- 
suspected hour,  he  is  detected,  and,  denounced  by 
the  world,  he  falls  from  his  high  estate  as  if  a 
cannon-ball  had  struck  him — for  there  is  no  cannon 
that  can  strike  more  fatally  than  outraged  public 
sentiment — and  flies  over  the  mountains,  or  across 
the  sea,  to  escape  the  odium  of  his  life.  He 
believed  that  his  evil  course  was  buikling  him  up  in 
fame  and  fortune  ;  but  financiering  is  the  devil's 
iorge,  and  his  every  act  was  a  blow  upon  the  anvil 
shaping  the  dagger  that  should  one  day  strike  horns 


SOUL.     THE 


(   7;2  ; 


SOUL,     THE 


to  his  heart  and  make  him  a  suicide.  The  pea 
contains  the  vine,  and  the  flower,  and  the  pod,  in 
embryo,  and  I  am  suie,  when  I  plant  it,  that  it 
will  produce  them  and  nothing  else.  Now,  every 
action  of  our  lives  is  embryonic,  and  according  as  it 
is  right  or  wrong  it  will  surely  bring  forth  the 
sweet  flowers  of  joy  or  the  poison  fruits  of  sorrow. 
Such  is  the  constitution  of  this  world,  and  the 
IJilile  assures  us  that  the  next  world  only  carries  it 
forward.  Here  and  hereafter  "  whatsoever  a  man 
soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  — Beecher. 

XX.    CONVICTION  OF  SIN. 

(4613.)  If  the  man  whose  crimes  have  deprived 
him  of  the  favour  of  God  can  reflect  upon  his  con- 
duct without  disturbance,  or  can  at  vVill  banish  the 
reflection  ;  if  he  who  considers  himself  as  suspended 
over  the  abyss  of  eternal  perdition  only  by  the 
thread  of  life,  which  must  soon  part  by  its  own 
weakness,  and  which  the  wing  of  every  minute  may 
divide,  can  cast  his  eyes  round  him  without  shud- 
dering with  horror,  or  panting  for  security ;  what 
can  he  judge  of  himself  but  that  he  is  not  yet 
awakened  to  sufTicient  conviction,  since  every  loss  is 
more  lamented  than  the  loss  of  the  Divine  favour,  and 
every  danger  more  dreaded  tlian  the  danger  of  final 
condemnation?       — Dr.  S.  Johnson,  1709-17S4. 

(4614.)  In  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of  Louis 
XVI.,  a  German  prince,  travelling  through  France, 
visited  the  arsenal  at  Toulon,  where  tlie  galleys 
were  kept.  The  commandant,  as  a  compliment 
to  his  rank,  said  lie  was  welcome  to  set  free  any 
one  g&lley-slave  whom  he  should  choose  to  select. 

The  prince,  willing  to  make  the  best  use  of  the 
privilege,  spoke  to  many  of  them  in  succession, 
inquiring  why  they  were  condemned  to  the  gal- 
leys. Injustice,  oppression,  false  accusations,  were 
assigned  by  one  alter  another  as  the  causes  of  their 
being  there.  In  fact,  they  were  all  injured  and  ill- 
treated  persons. 

At  la>t  he  came  to  one,  who,  when  asked  the 
same  question,  answered  to  this  eticct  :  "  Your 
highness,  I  have  no  reason  to  complain  ;  I  have 
been  a  very  wicked,  desperate  wretch.  I  have 
deserved  to  be  broken  alive  on  the  wheel.  I 
account  it  a  great  mercy  that  1  am  here."  The 
jirince  fixed  his  eyes  upon  him,  and  said  :  "You 
wicked  wretch  1  It  is  a  pity  you  should  be  placed 
among  so  many  honest  men.  By  your  own  confes- 
sion, you  are  bad  enough  to  corrupt  them  all  ;  but 
you  shall  not  stay  with  them  another  day."  Theii 
turning  to  the  officer,  he  said  :  "This  is  the  man, 
sir,  whom  I  wish  to  be  released." 

Was  not  this  a  wise  decision  ?  Must  not  all  who 
hear  the  story  allow  that  the  man  who  was  sensible 
of  his  guilt,  and  so  submissive  to  his  punishment, 
was,  in  all  probability,  the  most  worthy  of  pardon, 
and  the  most  likely  not  to  abuse  it  ? 

Sense  of  sin  is  the  first  step  toward  forgiveness. 
There  is  hope  of  a  man  who  confesses  his  guilt, 
and  feels  that  punishment  is  his  desert.  And  the 
deeper  the  conviction  of  sin,  the  more  hopeful  often 
is  the  condition. 


SOUL.  THE 

1,  Its  mysteriousness. 

(4615.)  The  pit  that  is  deepest,  the  pit  that  is 
most  unexplored  and  most  unfathomable,  is  that 
vhich  is  the  wonder  and  glory  of  God's  thought 
BOid  hand,-  "ur  own  soul.  — Beecker, 


2.  Invisible,  yet  real. 

(4616.)  I  wonder  whether  these  men  believe  that 
ihey  breathe  in  summer  as  well  as  in  winter.  In 
summer  they  cannot  see  their  own  breaih  ;  but  as 
cold  grows  on,  it  begins  to  appear.  God's  provi- 
dence, and  their  own  souls,  are  things  of  so  subtle  a 
nature  that  tliey  cannot  see  them  during  the  summer 
of  their  pleasures.  But  when  the  winter  of  judgment 
comes,  this  will  show  them  a  God  in  their  just  suffer- 
ings ;  and  in  that  soul  of  theirs,  which  they  would 
not  believe  they  had,  they  shall  feel  an  unspeakable 
torment.  Then  shall  their  pained  sense  supply  the 
want  of  their  faith.  — Adams,  1654. 

{4617  )  The  soul  is  formlesr,,  is  shadowless.  No 
eye  beholds  it  ;  no  hand  handles  it  ;  no  pencil  may 
draw  its  lineaments.  The  mother  that  gave  birth 
to  her  child  ;  that  overhung  the  cradle  ;  that  carried 
her  babe  imbosonied  ;  that  studied  the  girl's  girl- 
hood, youth,  and  womanhood,  till  the  cloud  of  love 
opened  and  hid  her  in  the  wedded  life — even  the 
mother  does  not'  know  the  girl  nor  the  woman. 
Nor  does  he  that  takes  her  know  her,  when  she  is 
taken  ;  nor  even  she  herself.  Our  life  is  hinted, 
but  it  is  hidden.  It  gleams  out  at  times  ;  it  flashes 
in  sparks  upon  us.  None  has  seen  the  full  orb,  or 
known  the  full  measure  of  it.  We  stand  before 
each  other  as  volumes  of  books.  The  binding  and 
lettering  are  plain  enough  ;  the  contents  are  un- 
known, or  but  dimly  suspected.  We  are  like  books 
in  wliich  some  things  are  to  be  hidden  from  the 
common  reader  as  unsafe,  and  at  every  few  para- 
graphs the  critical  things  are  expressed  in  a  dead 
language.  So  in  human  life,  the  simplest  things 
are  read  ;  the  interior  things  are  not  legible. 

— Beecher. 

(4618.)  If  by  the  existence  of  a  spiritual  being  in 
man  is  meant  the  existence  of  an  invisible  principle 
which  we  call  the  soul,  then  1  conceive  that  as  to 
any  difficulty  in  the  conception  of  this,  the  matters 
we  have  just  been  considering  will  greatly  aid  us 
to  get  over  it.  Indeed,  as  to  the  manner  in  which 
they  may  do  so,  1  have  already  adverted  to  it.  We 
know,  for  example,  not  only  that  there  is  present  a 
real  power  holding  together  the  oxygen  and  the 
hydrogen,  which  in  their  combination  constitute  a 
grain  of  water,  but  we  know  that  that  real  power  is 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  dependent  for  its  exist- 
ence on  the  material  elements  which  it  is  holding 
in  combination  ;  for  we  know  that  in  the  act  of 
decomposition  it  flies  forth  with  enormous  force. 
He,  therefore,  that  is  in  the  habit  of  such  contem- 
plations, is  not  only  prepared  to  believe  that  an  im- 
material principle  may  be  a  real  principle,  but  he  is 
prepared  also  to  believe,  as  a  thing  according  to  all 
analogy  and  previous  experience,  that  it  shall  be 
independent  for  its  existence  of  the  material  par- 
ticles with  which  for  the  time  it  may  be  combined. 

But  this  does  not  amount  by  any  means  to  the 
evidence  that  there  is  in  man  a  spiritual  being.  It 
amounts  to  the  proof  that  physics,  that  material 
science,  affords  no  presumption  against  it  ;  the 
positive  manifestation  that  it  is  there  must  arise 
from  some  other  quarter.         — A.J.  Scott,  1866. 

8.  Its  powers. 

(4619.)  The  soul  is  variously  denominated  from 
its  several  powers  and  offices,  as  the  sea  from  the 
several  shores  it  washes.  "As  it  q'Lickens  the 
body,  it  is  called  the  life ;  as  it  exerts  acts  of  the 


SOUL,     THE 


(  m  ) 


SOUL.     THE 


will,  it  is  called  the  power  of  volition.  ;  as  it  is  the 
subject  of  knowledge,  it  is  called  the  mind ;  when 
it  recollects,  it  is  called  the  nieinory  ;  as  it  produces 
breathing,  it  is  caiied  the  spirit. 

— Flavel,  1627-1691. 

4.  Is  In  most  men  Incompletely  developed. 

(4620.)  Going  into  a  village  at  night,  with  the 
lights  gleaming  on  each  side  of  the  street,  in  some 
houses  they  will  be  in  the  basement  and  nowhere 
else,  and  in  others  in  the  attic  and  nowhere  else, 
and  in  others  in  some  middle  chamber ;  but  in  no 
house  will  every  window  gleam  from  top  to  bottom. 
So  is  it  with  men's  faculties.  Most  of  them  are  in 
darkness.  One  shines  here,  and  another  there  ; 
but  there  is  no  man  whose  soul  is  luminous  through- 
out. — beeclur. 

(4621.)  Men  are  differently  built.  There  are 
men  who  are  broad  and  strong  at  the  base,  in  the 
middle,  and  up  until  you  reach  the  moral  faculties. 
These  are  .shrunken  in,  and  almost  vani.>hed. 

Such  men  are  like  lighthouses,  built  well  at  the 
bottom,  and  all  the  way  up.  All  right,  only  they 
have  no  lantern  and  no  liglit.  And  the  two 
things,  the  man  and  the  house,  are  equally  valuable. 

— Beecher. 

(4622.)  It  is  a  part  of  our  physiological  nature 
that,  in  order  to  the  healthful  development  of  our 
moral  faculties,  they  must  be  placed  highest,  else 
they  can  no  more  flourish  than  could  a  plant 
glowing  under  the  shade  and  drip  of  trees.  Hut 
most  men  make  no  provision  for  tliese  faculties. 
Like  a  lighthouse,  built  well  from  foundation  up- 
wards, but  without  any  place  for  the  lantern,  so 
many  men  build  carelully  their  lower  natures,  but 
never  rear  the  higiiest  storey.  As  a  musical  instru- 
nunt  might  have  the  bass  and  tenor  very  well 
tuned  and  concordant,  while,  if  you  ran  your 
fingers  over  the  higher  notes  all  would  be  clash 
and  jargon,  so  men  say,  "  I  must  compose  and  har- 
monise myself  to  natural  laws  for  the  sake  of 
health,"  and  thus  they  tune  the  bass;  and  then 
they  say,  "  I  must  have  peace  at  home,  and  peace 
in  my  neighbourhood,"  and  so  they  regulate  their 
social  aflections ;  and  there  are  lofty  flights  of 
reason,  and  imagination,  and  art,  and  poetry,  and 
music,  and  thus  they  tune  the  tenor ;  but  when  they 
come  to  the  highest  notes,  which  were  meant  to  be 
sweet  to  the  ear  of  God,  there  is  neither  regularity 
nor  concordance.  All  is  void,  vast,  and  m\st  rious 
in  their  moral  nature.  — Bcxner. 

6.  Is  developed  by  the  cares  of  life. 

(4623.)  At  the  foot  of  any  one  of  these  beeches 
you  would  probably  find  a  buried  chrysalis.  By 
and  by  the  enclosed  moth  will  break  a  little  hole 
in  the  case,  and  struggle  to  get  through  the  aperture. 
The  process  is  difficult,  and  may  occupy  hours.  If 
you  were  to  watch  it,  you  would  pity  the  creature 
straining  and  tugging  so  painfully,  and  it  might 
occur  to  you  that  a  slight  snip  of  a  pair  of  scisscjrs 
would  enlarge  the  opening  sufficiently  to  give  the 
poor  prisoner  vent.  If  you  did  so,  however,  the 
moth  Would  come  out  with  small,  unexpanded, 
useless  wings.  The  struggle,  which  seems  so  hard, 
is  necessary  to  force  the  vital  fluid  into  the  minute 
vessels  (compared  with  which  the  capillaries  of  a 
man  are  immense),  which  ramify  tluoughout  the 
gauzy,  scale-coveicd  pinions  of  the  moth.     Is  there 


no  moral  in  the  fact  r  Does  it  not  hint  to  us  thai 
many  of  our  frets  and  cares  are  not  accidental  nof 
useless,  but  meant  to  strengthen  and  vitalise  the 
soul  r  I  have  oiten  seen  a  person  suffering  the  last 
sickness;  at  first  irritable  and  impatient,  but  gradu- 
ally growing  more  self-forgetful,  more  mindful  of 
others,  more  trustful  in  God — and  the  parable  of 
the  moth  has  come  to  my  mind,  and  I  have  said  to 
myself,  thus  also  the  soul  in  its  pangs  of  emanci- 
pation is  being  prepared  for  the  higher  life  beyond. 

6.  Should  be  carefully  guarded  from  injury. 

(4624.)  The  blemishes  cf  the  soul  are  like  the 
wounds  of  the  body  :  howevei  skilfully  healed,  the 
scar  always  remains,  and  they  are  at  every  moment 
in  danger  of  breaking  open  again. 

— La  Rochefoucauld. 

7.  Is  degraded  and  ruined  by  sin. 

(4625.)  As  the  sluggard  does  nothing  more  un- 
willingly than  forsake  his  bed,  nor  bears  anything 
with  more  regret  than  to  be  awaked  out  of  his 
sweet  sleep,  though  you  should  entice  him  with 
the  pleasures  of  a  paradise  to  quit  a  smoky  loath- 
some cottage  ;  so  fares  it  with  the  sluggish  soul, 
as  if  it  were  locked  in  an  enchanted  bed  :  it  is  so 
fast  held  by  the  charms  of  the  body,  all  the  glory 
of  the  other  world  is  little  enough  tc  tempt  it  out  : 
than  which  there  is  not  a  more  deplorable  symptom 
of  this  sluggish  slumbering  state.  So  deep  an 
oblivion,  which  you  know  is  also  naturally  incident 
to  sleep,  has  seized  it  of  its  own  country,  of  its 
alliances  above,  its  relation  to  the  Father  and 
world  of  spirits, — it  takes  this  earth  for  its  home, 
where  it  is  both  in  exile  and  captivity  at  once  :  and, 
as  a  prince,  stolen  away  in  his  infancy,  and  bred 
up  in  a  beggar's  shed,  so  little  seeks,  that  it  declina, 
that  better  state.  — Howe,  1630- 1705. 

(4626.)  Speak  I  to  men  who  though  their  frames 
are  bent  and  hardened  by  toil,  were  nevertheless 
created  in  God's  image — who,  though  their  hands 
are  so  busily  engaged  with  this  world,  are  yoi,- 
sessed  of  undying  souls  ?  And  need  I  tell  them 
what  a  degradation  it  is,  what  an  act  of  violence  to 
their  better  nature,  when  that  soul  is  uncared  for, 
when  its  wonderful  faculties  are  permitted  lo  lie 
dormant,  entombed  in  the  body  as  in  a  living  grave  1 
Ah  me  !  to  think  of  such  a  soul  being  made  to  grind 
like  a  blinded  Samson  at  the  whetl  of  youi  sensual 
pleasures — when  it  has  a  wing  scarcely  inferior  to 
the  .seraph's  in  strength,  and  might  yet  prove  cap- 
able of  a  flight  as  high  !  To  think  ol  its  being 
confined  to  the  duties  of  the  workshop,  seldom 
rising  above  the  question,  What  wages  can  I  earn  ? 
— when  the  boundless  universe  is  its  proper  field  o." 
discovery,  and  does  not  afford  it  too  ample  range  I 
i  o  think  of  its  lieing  made  a  drudge  of  the  body, 
knowing  no  better  employment  than  to  pamper  its 
lusts,  when  it  could  make  the  highest  world  its 
footstool,  and  while  suns  and  systems  roll  in  all 
their  grandeur  at  its  feet,  could  levy  tribute  from 
them  all  !  The  degradation  of  such  a  soul  can 
neither  be  described  nor  imagined.  In  vain  do  we 
look  around  us  to  find,  or  exercise  the  imagination 
to  conceive  of,  anything  that  will  adequately  illus- 
trate its  extent.  I  have  thought  of  the  eagle  which, 
soaring  above  the  range  of  human  vision,  gazes 
with  unfaltering  eye  on  the  splendour  of  the  noon- 
day  sun,  and  basks  in  his  golden  beams  ;  I  have 
thought  of  the  degradation  of  the  noble  bird  when 


SOUL.     THE 


(    774    ) 


SOUL.     THE 


chained  to  a  stone  in  the  dungeon  wall.  I  have 
thoughl  of  an  angel  smitten  wiih  insanity,  its  noble  in- 
tellect deranged,  leaving  the  heaven  where  in  its  youth 
it  soared  and  sang,  to  find  employment  in  heaping 
together  the  dust  of  the  earth.  I  iiave  thought,  too, 
of  the  king  reduced  to  the  condition  of  a  beggar  ; 
and  thus  have  I  attempted  to  picture  by  comparison 
the  most  deplorable  calamity — the  waste,  the  de- 
struction of  a  human  soul.  But  I  have  tried  in  vain. 
Its  degradation  cannot  be  described  by  any  illustra- 
tion wliich  the  universe  can  furnish  or  the  imagina- 
tion create.  Our  lamentations  indicate  what  we 
cannot  measure  or  describe.  "  How  are  the  mighty 
fallen  !  How  has  the  gold  become  dim  ;  and  the 
most  fine  gold  changed  ?  "  — Landels. 

8.  Its  true  portion.  \See  also  2378-2387.] 
(4627.)  The  soul  of  man  bears  the  image  of  God  ; 
so  nothing  can  satisfy  it  but  He  whose  imnge  it 
bears.  Our  soul,  says  Augustine,  was  created  as 
by  God,  so  for  God,  and  is  therefore  never  quiet 
till  it  rest  in  God.  As  man  fell  at  first  into  this 
restlessness  by  falling  away  from  God,  so  he  cannot 
be  recovered  of  it  but  by  returning  to  Him  again, 
it  is  with  man's  soul  in  this  regard  as  it  was  with 
Noali's  dove  ni  the  deluge.  As  the  dove  after  she 
left  ilie  ark  found  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  her  foot  in 
ilie  wide  world,  being  then  all  afloat,  till  she 
betook  her  again  thither  from  whence  she  came 
forth  ;  so  neither  can  man,  fallen  from  God,  find 
any  sure  rest  for  the  foot  of  his  soul  in  the  whole 
world  beside,  till  he  come  back  to  Him  again  from 
whom  it  came  at  the  first. 

— Gaiaker,  1574-1654. 

(4628.)  As  a  cup  of  pleasant  wine,  offered  to  a 
condemned  man  in  the  way  to  his  execution  ;  as  tiie 
feast  of  him  (Uamocles)  who  sat  under  a  naked  sword 
hanging  perpendicularly  over  his  liead  by  a  slender 
thread  ;  as  Adam's  forbidden  fruit,  seconded  by  a 
flaming  sword  ;  as  Belshazzar's  dainties,  overlooked 
by  a  handwriting  against  the  wall ;  such  are  all  the 
empty  delights  of  the  world — in  their  matter  and 
expectatitm  earthly  ;  in  their  acquisition  painful  ; 
in  their  fruition  nauseous  and  cloying  ;  in  their 
duration  dying  and  [)erishing  ;  in  their  operation, 
hardening,  edeminating,  leavening,  puffing  up, 
estranging  the  heart  from  God  ;  in  their  conse- 
quences seconded  with  anxiety,  solicitude,  fear, 
sorrow,  despair,  disappointment ;  in  their  measure 
shorter  than  that  a  man  can  stretch  himself  on, 
narrower  than  that  a  man  can  wrap  himself  in  ; 
every  way  defective  and  disproportionable  to  the 
vast  and  spacious  capacity  of  the  soul  of  man,  as 
unable  to  fill  that  as  the  light  of  a  candle  to  give  day 
to  the  whole  world.  Nothing  but  emptiness  attends 
tliem  all,  unless  they  be  found  in  Cinist  Jesus. 

— fencer,  1658, 

(4629.)  The  fulness  of  the  earth  can  never  satisfy 
the  soul.  All  satisfaction  and  contentment  ari>e 
from  the  conjunction  of  a  convenient  with  a  con- 
venient;  the  conjunction  of  suitables.  If  a  man  liave 
never  so  great  an  estate,  if  his  heart  be  not  suited  to  it, 
he  hath  no  content.  If  a  man  have  never  so  small  an 
estate,  il  his  heart  be  suited  to  it,  he  is  content. 
What  suitableness  is  there  between  the  fulness  of 
the  earth  and  the  better  part  of  man,  the  soul  ! 
A  thing  is  never  said  to  be  full  till  ii  be  full  of  that 
for  winch  it  is  made  :  a  ches'.  or  trunk  is  not  said 
to  be  full  of  air,  though  it  bi   full  of  air.     So  take 


one  of  these  meeting-houses  ;  though  the  place  be 
full  of  stools,  or  full  of  air,  yet  we  say  the  chjrch 
is  empty  :  because  though  it  be  full,  yet  it  is  not 
full  of  that  for  which  it  is  made,  full  of  people.  So 
now,  take  a  man  that  hath  all  the  fulness  of  the 
earth  :  because  that  his  soul  was  never  made  for 
the  fulness  of  the  earth,  therefore  he  is  said  to  be 
empty  ;  in  the  nddst  of  all  his  fulness,  tlie  man  is  an 
empty  man,  because  his  heart  is  not  full  of  that  lor 
which  he  was  made,  and  that  is  Christ. 

— Bridge,  1 600- 1670. 

{4630.)  God  is  the  chiefest  good  ;  and  other  things 
are  only  good  in  subordination.  All  creature  good- 
ness is  but  a  striciure  of  that  perfect  gocl  which  is 
in  God,  and  therefore  if  we  find  any  good  in  tiieni, 
that  should  lead  us  to  greater  good  even  in  the 
Creator.  Who  would  leave  the  substance  to  follow 
the  shadow  ?  or  desire  the  picture  to  dishonour  and 
neglect  the  person  whom  it  represents  ?  Certainly 
they  do  that  run  after  the  creature  and  neglect  God, 
that  seek  happiness  in  sublunary  enjoyments,  to  the 
wrong  and  neglect  of  God.  That  small  good  which 
the  creatures  have,  is  not  to  hold  us  on  them,  but 
to  lead  us  to  Him,  as  the  stream  will  direct  us  to  the 
fountain  ;  and  the  steps  of  the  ladder  are  not  to 
stand  still  upon,  but  to  ascend  higher.  If  your 
affections  be  detained  in  the  creature,  you  set  the 
creature  in  God's  stead,  you  perveit  it  from  its 
natural  use,  which  is  to  set  forth  the  invisible  things 
of  God,  His  excellency.  His  goodness,  His  God- 
head, and  His  power  to  do  you  good  ;  and  to  send 
you  to  Him  that  made  them.  But  how  usually  doer 
that  wdiich  should  carry  us  to  God  divert  and  detain 
us  from  Him?  If  a  prince  should  woo  a  virgin  by 
a  messenger,  and  she  should  leave  him  and  cleave 
to  the  messenger,  and  those  he  sent  as  spokesmen 
and  servants,  this  were  an  extreme  folly.  By  the 
beauty  and  sweetness  of  the  creature,  God's  end  is 
to  draw  us  to  Himself  as  the  chiefest  good  ;  for  that 
which  we  love  in  other  things  is  but  a  shadow  and 
an  obscure  resemblance  of  that  which  is  in  Him. 
There  is  sweetness  in  the  creatures,  mixed  with 
imperfection  ;  the  sweetness  is  to  tlraw  us  to  God  ; 
but  the;  imperfection  is  to  drive  us  from  setting  our 
hearts  on  them.  There  is  somewhat  go'd  in  them, 
look  up  to  the  Creator  ;  but  there  is  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit,  this  is  to  drive  us  olf  from  these 
sublunary  things.  — Matiton,  1620-1677. 

9.  Its  preciousness. 

(4631.)  The  real  value  of  an  object  is  that  which 
one  who  knows  its  worth  will  give  lor  it.  He  who 
made  the  soul,  knew  its  worth,  and  gave  His  life 
for  it.  —Jackson,  1579-1640. 

(4632.)  The  preparations  God  makes  for  souls  in 
heaven,  speak  their  great  worth  and  value.  Wlien 
you  lilt  up  your  eyes  to  heaven,  and  behold  that 
spangled  azure  canopy  beset  and  inlaid  with  so 
many  golden  studs  and  sparkling  gems,  you  see  but 
the  floor  or  pavement  of  that  place  which  God  has 
prepared  for  some  souls.  He  furnished  this  world 
lor  us  before  He  put  us  into  it  ;  but,  as  deliglaiul 
as  it  is,  it  is  no  more  to  be  compaied  with  the 
Father's  hnuse  in  Heaven,  than  the  smallest  ruined 
chapel  your  eyes  ever  beheld  is  to  be  compared 
with  Solomon's  temple,  when  it  stood  in  all  "its 
glory. 

When  you  see  a  stately  and  magnificent  structure 
built,  richest    Jianginys  and    lurniiure   prepared   to 


SOUL.     THE 


(  ns  ) 


SOUL.     THE 


adorn  it,  you  conclude  some  great  persons  are  to 
come  ihitlier  :  such  preparations  speak  the  quality 
of  the  guests. 

Now  heaven,  yea,  the  heaven  of  heavens,  the 
palace  of  the  great  King,  the  presence  chamber  of 
the  Godhead,  is  prepared,  not  only  by  God's  decree 
and  Christ's  death,  but  by  His  ascension  thither  in 
our  nauies  and  as  our  Forerunner,  for  all  renewed 
and  redeemed  souls.  "  In  My  Father's  hou>e  are 
many  mansions,  if  it  were  not  so,  1  would  have  told 
you  :  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  yoii !  " 

— Flavel,  1630-1694. 

(4633.)  Should  I  suggest  in  some  companies, 
that  the  conversion  of  a  hundred  sinners  (more  or 
less)  to  God,  is  an  event  of  more  real  importance 
than  the  temporal  prosperity  of  the  greatest  nation 
upon  earth,  I  should  be  charged  with  ignorance 
and  arrogance ;  but  your  lonisliip  is  skilled  in 
scriptural  arithmetic,  which  alone  can  teach  us  to 
estimate  the  value  of  souls,  and  will  agree  with  me, 
that  one  soul  is  worth  more  than  the  whole  world, 
on  account  of  its  redemption-price,  its  vast  capa- 
cities, and  its  duration.  Should  we  suppose  a 
nation  to  consist  of  forty  millions,  the  whole  and 
each  individual  to  enjoy  as  much  good  as  this  life 
can  aftbrd,  without  abatement,  for  a  term  of  fifty 
years  each  ;  all  this  good,  or  an  equal  quantity, 
might  be  exhausted  by  a  single  person  in  two 
thousand  millions  of  years,  which  would  be  but  a 
moment  in  comparison  of  the  eternity  which  would 
still  follow  :  and  if  this  good  were  merely  temporal 
good,  the  wliole  aggregate  of  it  would  be  evil  and 
misery,  if  compared  with  that  happiness  in  God,  of 
which  only  I  hey  who  are  made  partakers  of  a  divine 
life  are  capable.  On  the  other  hand,  were  a  whole 
nation  to  be  destroyed  by  such  accumulated  miseries 
as  attended  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  the  sum-total  of 
these  calamities  would  be  but  trifling,  if  set  in  com- 
petition with  wliat  every  single  person  tiiat  dies  in 
sin  has  to  expect,  when  the  sentence  of  everlasting 
destruction  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  the 
glory  of  His  power,  shall  be  executed. 

— Ne-diton,  1725-1807. 

10.  Its  salTatlon  should  be  tlie  first  business  of 

(4634.)  If  you  have  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  a 
maii-sieamer,  you  may  have  observed  how  ready 
the  captain  was  to  come  into  the  cabin  on  a  quiet 
evening,  and  to  minister  to  the  pleasure  of  his  pas- 
sengers. But  if  you  were  suddenly  to  hear  the  loud 
tramp  of  hurrying  feet  across  the  deck  overhead, 
and  the  hoarse  prattling  of  the  first  mate's  trumpet 
to  "  haul  in  the  jil>,"  and  "close-reef  the  top-sails," 
would  you  dare  to  invite  the  captain  to  a  game  of 
chess,  or  to  listen  to  an  operatic  air?  .  No  !  The 
sturdy  seaman  would  reply,  "in  an  hour  the  hurri- 
cane may  send  two  hundred  souls  to  the  bottom, 
if  everything  isn't  made  fast.  I  can't  play  with 
you  while  the  gale  is  playing  with  my  ship." 

My  unconverted  friend,  when  your  soul  is  saved 
you  may  talk  about  the  price  of  gold,  or  the  ten 
per  cent,  that  ofters  to  you  in  some  new  speculation, 
or  the  latest  discoveries  in  the  gold  regions.  Until 
then,  your  real  business  must  be  to  tiee  from  the 
wrath  to  come,  and  to  lay  hold  on  eternal  life. 
What  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ? 

— Cuyler. 

11.  Its  loss. 

(4635.)  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  gain 
the  whole  world  and  loss   his  own  soul;  or  what 


shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul?"  And 
what  is  it  to  lose  a  soul  ?  It  is  to  let  weeds  grow 
there  instead  of  flowers.  It  is  to  let  selfishness 
grow,  passions  grow,  suspicious,  envious  tempers 
grow,  avarice  grow,  wantonness  grow,  until  they 
have  all  the  field  to  themselves.  Set  these  in  full 
force  within  a  being,  and  add,  if  you  will,  a  whole 
universe  of  possession,  it  is  hell.  You  may  think 
that  these  are  only  strong  rhetorical  words.  It  is 
just  as  simple  literal  fact  as  that  two  and  two  make 
four.  I  do  not  think  that  you  will  need  to  look 
far  around  you  in  the  world  for  the  proof  of  it. 

— J.  Baldwin  Brown. 

(4636.)  Often,  when  travelling  among  the  Alps, 
one  sees  a  small  black  cross  planted  upon  a  rock, 
or  on  the  brink  of  a  torrent,  or  on  the  verge  of  the 
highway,  to  mark  the  spot  where  men  have  met 
with  sudden  death  by  accident.  Solemn  reminders 
these  of  our  mortality  !  but  they  led  our  mind  still 
further  ;  for  we  said  within  us,  if  the  places  where 
men  seal  themselves  for  the  second  death  could  be 
thus  manifestly  indicated,  what  a  scene  would  this 
world  present !  Here  the  memorial  of  a  soul  undone 
by  yielding  to  a  foul  temptation,  there  a  conscience 
seared  by  the  rejection  of  a  final  warning,  aiid  yon- 
der a  heart  for  ever  turned  into  a  stone  by  resisting 
the  last  tender  appeal  of  love.  Our  places  of  wor- 
ship would  scarce  hold  the  sorrowful  monuments 
which  might  be  erected  over  spots  where  spiiits 
were  for  ever  lost — spirits  that  date  their  rmi  from 
sinning  against  the  Gospel  while  under  the  sound 
of  it.  — Spurgeon. 

(4637.)  "  For  what  sliall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he 
shall  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  " 
or,  according  to  the  still  more  impressive  record  ol 
Christ's  saying  which  v\e  find  in  Luke's  Gospel : 
"What  is  a  man  advantaged,  if  he  gain  the  wliole 
world  and  lose  himself,  or  be  cast  away?"  One 
summer  afternoon  a  steamer,  crowded  with  passen- 
gers, many  of  them  miners  from  California,  was 
speeding  along  the  Mississiiijii.  Striking  suddenly 
and  strongly  against  the  wreck  of  aiu>tlier  ve>sel, 
that,  unknown  to  her  captain,  lay  near  the  surface 
of  the  water,  her  bow  was  stove  in,  and  she  began 
to  fill  rapidly.  Her  deck  was  a  scene  of  wild 
confusion.  Her  boats  were  launched,  but  did  not 
suffice  to  carry  off  one-fourth  of  the  lerrilied  passen- 
gers. The  rest,  divesting  themselves  of  their  gar- 
ments, like  St.  Paul's  companions  in  their  famous 
shipwreck,  cast  themselves  into  the  river,  "  Some 
on  boards,  and  some  on  broken  pieces  of  the 
ship  :  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  they  escaped  all 
safe  to  land."  Some  minutes  after  tiie  last  ul  them 
had  quitted  the  vessel,  another  man  uppeared  on 
her  deck.  Seizing  a  spar,  he  i.so  leaped  into  the 
river,  but,  instead  of  floating  as  the  others  hati  done, 
he  sank  instantly  as  il  he  had  been  a  stone.  His  body 
was  afterwards  recovered,  and  it  was  found  that  he 
had  employed  the  quarter  of  an  hour,  in  which  his 
fellow-passengers  had  been  striving  to  save  their 
lives,  m  rifling  the  trunks  of  the  miners.  All 
around  his  waist  their  bags  of  gold  \^  ere  fastened. 
In  one  short  quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  gained  more 
gold  than  most  men  earn  in  their  lifetime;  but  was 
he  advantaged  thereby,  seeing  that  he  lost  hiia» 
sell  ?  And  though  you  should  gain  power,  or  rank, 
or  fame,  or  learning,  or  great  wealth  ;  though  youi 
life  should  be  one  prolonged  triumphal  procession, 
i»lL  men  applauding  you ;  though  all  your  days  you 


SOUL.     THE 


(    776    )   . 


SOUL.     THE 


should  drink  unrestrained  of  the  cup  of  the  world's 
pleasures,  and  never  reach  its  bitter  dregs ;  yet 
what  shall  you  be  advantaged  if,  nevertheless,  you 
lose  yourself,  and,  at  last,  instead  of  being  received 
into  heaven,  are  cast  away  ?       — R.  A,  Bertram, 

U.  Its  relations  to  the  body. 

(i.)  Their  diverse  tendencies. 

(463S.)  An>.elm,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  as 
he  was  passing  on  the  way,  espied  a  boy  wiih  a 
bird  tied  in  a  string  to  a  stone,  the  bird  was  still 
taking  wing  to  fly  away,  but  the  stone  kept  her 
down.  The  holy  man  made  good  use  of  this  sight, 
and,  bursting  out  into  tears,  said,  "  Even  so  it  is 
betwixt  the  tlesh  and  tlie  spirit ;  the  spirit  is  willing 
to  mount  upwards  in  heavenly  thoughts  and  con- 
templation, but  the  flesh  keepeth  it  down,  and,  if 
possible,  would  not  admit  of  the  least  thought  of 
heaven.  — Spencer,  1658, 

(4639.)  As  a  fair  and  gentle  wife,  star-like  and 
dove-like,  is  given  to  the  guardianship  of  some  rude, 
coarse,  uncultured  nature,  who  treads  among  her 
sweet  feelings  as  the  hoof  and  the  snout  deal  with 
flowers  in  the  garden,  so  it  is  in  this  strange  husband 
and  wife,  the  body  and  the  soul,  the  soul  full  of 
swertness  and  gentleness,  and  purity  and  delicacy, 
and  the  coarse  animal  body  full  of  despotism,  and 
sway'.ngs  and  conflicts  of  cruel  passions  ;  and  they 
fare  but  ill  in  their  wedded  life  on  earth. 

The  body  looks  down,  and  searches  the  ground 
for  its  delights  :  the  soul  looks  up,  and,  like  an 
astronomer,  culls  treasures  from  among  the  stars, 
and  beyond.  The  body  eats  and  drinks  :  the  soul 
thinks  and  feels.  The  body  lives  in  the  world,  for 
the  world,  and  with  the  world  :  the  soul  reaches  far 
away  to  some  higher  life,  whose  need  it  feels — but 
all  is  vague,  but  the  wish,  but  the  need.  Strange 
visions  rise ;  but  neither  to-day  does  the  soul 
know  its  origin,  nor  to-morrow.  The  picture  of 
beauty  and  of  purity  that  rose  bright  in  the  morning 
has  faded  out  before  nigiit.  To  morrow  mocks  the 
expectation  of  to-day.  The  soul  is  like  a  bird 
caged  from  the  nest  that  yet  remembers  something 
of  its  fellows  in  the  forest  of  green  leaves,  and  in 
summer  days  hears  snatches  of  song  from  far-off 
fields,  and  yearns,  with  all  its  little  life,  for  that 
liberty  which  it  has  never  proved,  for  that  com- 
panionship which  it  so  early  missed,  and  for  those 
songs  which  it  never  learned  to  utter,  though  it 
strives  in  broken  notes  for  tiiem. 

Once  some  adventurous  hunters,  from  a  ledge  of 
rocks,  robbed  an  eagle's  nest  of  an  eaglet.  Brought 
home,  he  was  reared  among  fowls,  that  he  might 
perform  domestic  duty.  As  he  grew,  he  grew  apart 
from  the  children  of  the  dunghill,  and  sat  moody  in 
sullen  dignity.  As  his  wings  secretly  grew  strung, 
they  were  clipped.  When  on  a  summer's  day,  wild 
in  the  heaven  the  hawk  screamed,  every  fowl  in  the 
yard  ran  cowering  to  a  shelter  ;  he,  with  flashing 
eye,  and  discordant  scream,  reared  himself  to  fly. 
But,  alas  !  he  could  cot  rise.  He  fell  sick.  He 
would  have  died,  if  he  might.  They  let  him  alone. 
Kis  pinions  grow  again.  They  forgot  him.  He 
forgot  not.  The  sky  was  hli  The  great  round  of 
air,  without  line  or  bound,  was  his.  And  when, 
one  neglectful  summer  day,  all  were  dozing,  from 
afar  up  in  the  sky — so  far  that  none  could  see,  or 
see  only  a  floating  speck — there  came  down  a  cry 
so  faint  that  no  ear  might  hear  it — none  but  an 
eagle's.     Then,  with  suddet  tarce,  all  its  life  beating 


in  its  breast,  it  sprang  up.  Away  from  the  yard, 
its  fowls,  its  owners,  over  the  rick  and  over  the 
barn,  over  the  trees  and  over  the  hills,  round  and 
round  in  growing  circles,  beaten  with  growing  power 
of  wing,  the  freed  eagle  sought  its  fellow,  and  found 
its  liberty  right  under  the  sun  ! 

And  such,  of  many  and  many  a  soul,  sad  in 
bondage,  valiant  in  liberty,  has  been  the  history. 

— Beeclur. 

(2)    The  soul  should  have  the  pre-eminence. 

(4640. )  How  just  is  it  that  the  soul  should  have  the 
pre-eminence  in  all  respects  above  the  body.  The 
one  is  the  fading  offspring  of  the  earth,  the  other  is 
of  an  heavenly  extraction  and  incorruptible  nature. 
When  Pherecides,  the  Assyrian,  first  taught  among 
the  Grecians  the  doctrine  of  the  soul's  immortality, 
his  discourse  so  prevailed  on  Pythagoras  of  Samos, 
that  it  changed  him  from  an  athlete  into  a  philo- 
sopher. He  that  before  wholly  attended  upon  his 
botiy  to  make  it  excel  in  strength  or  agility,  that  he 
might  contend  victoriously  in  the  Olympic  games, 
then  made  it  his  business  to  improve  and  advance 
his  soul  in  knowledge  and  virtue.  And  if  the 
glimmering  appearances  of  this  great  truth  were  so 
powerful  upon  him,  how  much  more  should  the 
clear  and  certain  discoveries  of  it  be  operative  to 
to  make  us  chiefly  regard  the  interest  of  our  im- 
mortal part.  — Bates,  1625- 1 699. 

(3.)  The  folly  of  caring  more  for  the  body  than  the 
soul. 

(4641.)  The  body  is  to  the  soul  as  a  barren  turf 
to  a  mine  of  gold,  as  a  mud-wall  about  a  delicate 
gaiden,  as  a  wooden  box  wherein  the  jeweller 
carries  his  precious  gems,  as  a  coarse  case  to  a  fair 
and  rich  instrument,  as  a  rotten  hedge  to  a  paradise, 
as  Pharaoh's  prison  to  a  Joseph,  or  as  a  mask  to  a 
beautiful  face.  — Adams,  1653. 

(4642.)  The  soul  was  not  made  for  the  body,  as 
the  lute  is  not  made  for  the  case,  but  the  body  for 
the  soul,  as  a  box  for  the  jewel. 

— Adams,  1 653. 

(4643.)  I  do  not  approve  the  sullenness  of  that 
soul  which  wrongs  tiie  body  ;  but  I  worse  like  to 
have  the  body  wiong  the  soul,  to  have  Hagar 
tricked  up  in  Samh's  garments  and  set  at  upper 
end  of  the  table.  If  the  painted  popinjay,  that  so 
dotes  on  her  own  beauty,  had  an  eye  to  see  how 
her  soul  is  used,  she  would  think  her  practice  more 
ill-favoured  and  unhandsome  than  perfuming  a 
putrefied  coffin,  or  putting  mud  into  a  gl.iss  of 
crystal.  For  shame,  let  us  put  the  soul  loremost 
again,  and  not  set  heaven  lowest  and  earth  upper- 
most — Adams,  1653. 

(4644.)  There  is  a  parable  of  a  woman,  who,  hav- 
ing twin  children,  and  both  being  presented  to  her, 
she  falls  deeply  and  fondly  in  love  with  the  one, 
but  is  careless  and  disrespectful  of  the  other:  this 
she  will  nurse  herself,  l)ut  that  is  put  forth.  Her 
love  grows  up  w  ith  the  child  she  kept  herself :  she 
decks  it  fine,  she  feeds  it  choicely  ;  but  at  last,  by 
overmuch  pamjiering  of  it,  the  child  surfeits,  be- 
comes mortally  sick,  and  when  it  was  dying,  she 
remembers  herself,  anil  sends  to  look  after  the  other 
child  that  was  at  nurse,  to  the  end  she  might  now 
cherish  it  ;  but  when  the  messenger  came,  she  finds 
it  dying  and  gasping  likewise,  and  examining  the 


SOUL.     THE 


(    777    ) 


SOUL.     THE 


truth,  she  understands  that  through  the  mother's 
carelessness  and  neglect  to  look  alter  it,  the  poor 
child  was  starved  •  thus  wq.s  the  fond,  partial 
mother,  to  her  great  grief,  sorrow,  and  shame,  de- 
prived of  both  her  hopeful  babes  at  once.  Thus  every 
Christian  is  this  mother,  the  children  are  our  body 
and  soul ;  the  former  of  these  it  is  that  men  and 
women  fall  deeply  and  fondly  in  love  with,  whilst 
indeed  they  are  careless  and  neglect  the  other  ;  this 
they  dress  and  feed,  nothing  is  too  good  or  too  dear 
for  it ;  but  at  the  last  the  body  surfeits,  comes  by 
some  means  or  other  to  its  deatlibed,  when  there  is 
very  little  or  no  hope  of  lile  ;  then  men  begin  to 
remember  the  soul,  and  would  think  of  some  course 
to  save  it  :  the  minister  he  is  sent  for  in  all  haste  to 
look  after  it ;  but,  alas  !  he  finds  it  in  part  dead, 
in  part  dying  ;  and  the  very  truth  is,  the  owner, 
through  neglect  and  carelessness,  hath  starved  the 
soul,  and  it  is  ready  to  go  to  hell  before  the  body 
is  fit  for  the  grave.  And  so  the  foolish  fond  Chris- 
tian, to  his  eternal  shame  and  sorrow,  loseth  both 
his  body  and  soul  for  ever.  — Spencer,  1658. 

(4645.)  If  one  should  send  me  from  abroad  a 
richly-carved  and  precious  statue,  and  the  careless 
drayman  .vho  tipped  it  upon  the  side-walk  before 
Hiy  door  should  give  it  such  a  blow  that  one  of  the 
boards  of  the  box  should  be  wrenched  off,  I  should 
be  frightened  lest  the  hurt  had  penetrated  further, 
and  wounded  it  within.  But  if,  taking  off  the 
remaining  boards,  and  the  svvathing-bands  of  straw 
or  cotton,  the  statue  should  come  out  fair  and 
unharmed,  I  should  not  mind  the  box,  but  should 
cast  it  carelessly  into  the  street.  Now,  every  man 
has  committed  to  him  a  statu",  moulded  by  the 
oldest  master,  not  of  Cupid,  or  Venus,  or  Psyche, 
or  Jupiter,  or  Apollo,  but  the  image  of  God;  and 
he  who  is  only  solicitous  for  outward  things,  who  is 
striving  to  protect  merely  the  body  from  injuries  and 
reverses,  is  letting  the  statue  go  rolling  away  into 
the  gutter,  while  he  is  picking  up  the  fragments  and 
lamenting  the  ruin  of  the  box.  — Beecher. 

(4.)  The  loss  of  the  soul  carries  with  it  the  loss  of 
the  body. 

(4646.)  If  the  soul  be  lost,  the  man  is  lost.     The 
body  is  but  as  a  boat   fastened   to   the  stern  of  a 
Stately  ship  :  if  the  ship  sink,  the  boat  follows  it. 
— Flavel,  1 630- 1 69 1. 

(4647.)  The  soul  is  the  bottom  in  which  the  body 
and  its  everlasting  good  is  embarked. 

— Szvinnock,  1 673, 

(5.)  As  the  body  and  the  soul  are  partners  in  sin, 
so  they  shall  be  also  in  suffering. 

(4648. )  There  was  a  master  of  a  family  who  com- 
mitted the  custody  of  his  orchard  unto  two  of  his 
servants,  whereof  the  one  was  blind  and  the  other 
lame  ;  and  the  lame  servant  being  taken  in  love 
with  the  beauty  of  the  fruit,  presently  told  his 
blind  fellow  that  if  he  had  but  the  use  of  his  limbs, 
and  his  feet  to  walk  as  well  as  he  had,  it  should  not 
be  long  ere  he  would  be  master  of  these  apples. 
The  blind  man  answered,  he  had  as  good  a  mind 
to  enjoy  them  as  himself,  and  if  his  eyes  had  not 
failed  liim  they  had  not  rested  all  that  while  upon 
the  tree.  Whereupon  they  both  agreed  to  unite 
their  strength  and  join  their  forces  together.  Tlie 
whole  blind  man  took  the  well-sighted  lame  man 
upon  hi?  shoulder,  and  so  they  reached  the  apples, 


and  conveyed  their  master's  fruit  away.  But  being 
impeached  for  their  fault  and  examined  by  their 
master,  each  one  framed  his  own  excuse.  The 
blind  man  said  he  could  not  so  much  as  see  the 
tree  whereon  they  grew,  and  therefore  it  was  plain  he 
could  have  none  of  them  ;  and  the  lame  man  said 
he  could  not  be  suspected,  because  he  had  no  limbs 
to  climb  or  stand  to  reach  them.  But  the  wise 
master,  perceiving  the  subtle  craft  of  his  two  false 
servants,  put  them  as  they  were,  one  upon  the 
other's  shoulders,  and  so  punished  both  together. 
Thus  it  is  that  sin  is  neither  of  the  body  without  the 
soul,  nor  of  the  soul  without  the  body,  but  it  is  a 
common  act  of  both  body  and  soul  ;  they  are  like 
Simeon  and  Levi,  brothers  and  partners  in  every 
mischief;  and  therefore  God,  in  Ills  just  judgment, 
will  punish  both  body  and  soul  together,  if  they  be 
not  repaired  and  redeemed  by  Christ. 

— Feter  Mattyr. 

12.  Its  immortality. 

(i.)  A  world-wide  conviction. 

(4649.)  The  unanswerable  reasonings  of  Butler 
never  reached  the  ear  of  the  grey-haired  jiious 
peasant,  but  he  needs  not  their  powerful  aid  to 
establish  his  sure  and  certain  hope  of  a  blessed 
immortality.  It  is  no  induction  of  logic  that  has 
transfixed  the  heart  of  the  victim  of  deep  remorse, 
when  he  withers  beneath  an  influence  unseen  by 
mortal  eye,  and  shrinks  from  the  anticipation  of  a 
reckoning  to  come.  In  both  the  evidence  is  within, 
a  part  of  the  original  constitution  of  every  rational 
mind,  planted  there  by  Him  who  framed  the 
wondrous  fabric.  This  is  the  power  of  conscience  : 
with  an  authority  which  no  man  can  put  away 
from  him  it  pleads  at  once  for  his  own  future  exist- 
ence, and  for  the  moral  attributes  of  an  omnipresent 
and  everpresent  Deity.  In  a  healthy  state  of  the 
moral  feelings,  the  man  recognises  its  claim  to 
supreme  dominion.  Amid  the  degradation  of  guilt 
it  still  raises  its  voice  and  asserts  its  right  to  govern 
the  whole  man  ;  and  though  its  warnings  are  dis- 
regarded, and  its  claims  disallowed,  it  proves  withip 
his  inmost  soul  an  accuser  that  cannot  be  stilleii^ 
and  an  avenging  spirit  that  never  is  quenched. 

— Dr.  f.  Abercrombie,  1781-1844. 

(4650.)  It  cannot  be  questioned  that  there  is  a 
deep  and  wide  testimony  in  man's  nature  to  tht 
existence  of  a  God  and  of  a  future  life  ;  it  may  bt 
pronounced  either  true  or  false,  but  it  must  be 
admitted  to  exist.  We  find  it  appearing  in  all 
countries  and  in  all  ages,  and  the  seeming  excep« 
tions  to  it  no  more  vitiate  the  fact  than  the  absence 
of  reason  in  some  individuals,  or  its  degradation  in 
some  races,  would  lead  us  to  deny  that  man  is 
rational.  — Ker. 

(2.)  Inflttence  of  the  hope  of  immortality. 

(4651.)  Few,  without  the  hope  of  another  life, 
would  think  it  worth  their  while  to  live  above  the 
allurements  of  sense.       — Atlerbury,  1663-1732. 

(4652.)  No  man  who  has  not  a  clear  belief  in 
a  future  life  can  have  permanently  a  strong  sense 
of  duty.  A  man  may,  indeed,  persuade  himself 
during  various  periods  of  his  existence  that  this 
sense  of  duty  is  the  better  and  the  purer  from  not 
being  bribed  by  the  prospect  of  a  future  reward,  or 
stimulated,  as  he  would  perhaps  say,  unhealthily  by 
the  dread  of  a  future  punishment.  But,  for  all  that, 
nis  moral  life,  if  he  has  not  an  eternal  future  before 


SOUL.     THE 


(  r.'^  ) 


SOUL.     THE 


klm,  IS,  depend  upon  it,  futile  and  impoverislied. 
It  is  not  merely  that  he  has  fewer  and  feebler 
motives  to  right  action  ;  it  is  that  he  has  a  false 
estimate,  because  an  under-estimate,  of  his  real  place 
in  tlie  universe.  He  has  forfeited,  in  the  legitimate 
sen<e  of  tiie  term,  his  true  title  to  self-resiiect.  He 
has  divested  himself  of  the  merit,  of  the  instincts,  of 
the  sense  of  noble  birth  and  lofty  destiny  which 
proiKily  belong  to  him.  He  is  like  the  heir  to  a 
great  name,  or  to  a  throne,  who  is  bent  on  forgetting 
his  lineage  and  his  responsibility  in  a  self-sought 
degradation.  Man  cannot,  if  he  would,  live  with 
impunity  only  as  a  more  accomplished  kind  of 
animal  than  are  the  creatures  arountl  him.  Man  is, 
by  the  terms  of  his  existence,  a  being  of  eternity, 
and  he  cannot  unmake  himself.  He  cannot  take 
up  a  po-ition  which  abdicates  his  highest  preroga- 
tives without,  sooner  or  later,  sinking  down  into 
degradations  which  are  in  themselves  a  punishment. 

— Liddon. 

(3.)  Is  not  incredible. 

(4653.)  Even  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  I  think 
tlie  anal<:)gies  derived  from  the  transiormation  of 
insects  admit  of  some  beautiful  applications,  which 
have  not  been  neglected  by  pious  entomologists. 
The  three  states — of  the  caterpillar,  larva,  and 
butterfly — have,  since  the  time  of  the  Greek  poets, 
been  applied  to  typify  the  human  being, — its 
terrestrial  form,  apparent  death,  and  ultimate  celes- 
tial destination  ;  and  it  seems  more  extraordinary 
that  a  sordid  and  crawling  worm  should  become  a 
beautiful  and  active  fly — that  an  inhabitant  of  the 
dark  and  fetid  dunghill  should  in  an  instant  entirely 
change  its  form,  rise  into  the  blue  air,  and  enjoy  the 
sunbeams — than  that  a  being  whose  pursuits  here 
have  been  after  an  undying  name,  and  whose  purest 
happiness  has  been  derived  from  the  acquisition  of 
intellectual  power  and  tinite  knowledge,  should  rise 
herealter  into  a  state  of  being  where  immortality  is 
no  longer  a  name,  and  ascend  to  the  source  of 
Unbounded  Power  and  Infinite  Wisdom. 

— Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  1 7  78- 1829. 

(4.)  Tht  soul  is  not  destroyed  by  its  separation 
from  the  body. 

(4654.)  Carnal  reason  can  hardly  imagine  how  a 
soul  should  have  subsistence  after  its  separation  from 
the  body  ;  it  seems  incredible,  because  it  is  in- 
visible. But  eagles  can  see  more  than  owls  ;  nor 
was  mere  nature  ignorant  of  this  :  through  all 
clouds  of  error  she  could  see  this  clear  truth,  that 
souls  die  not  with  their  bodies.  This  is  an  inbred 
instinct  sucked  from  the  breast  of  nature,  an  inde- 
lible principle  stamped  in  the  soul  by  God  Himself, 
not  to  be  rased  out.  The  waggoner  hath  a  being, 
though  his  coach  be  broken  ;  the  ship  is  wrecked 
on  the  sea,  yet  the  mariner  may  swim  to  harbour ; 
the  adder  lives  after  she  has  slipt  off^  her  coat  ;  the 
musician  keeps  his  skdl,  thougii  his  lute  be  broken  ; 
the  snail  may  creep  out,  and  leave  his  shell  behind. 

— Adams,  1654. 

(4655.)  That  it  hath  much  use  of  or  dependence 
on  the  body  in  its  present  operations  is  no  proof  at 
all  that  when  it  is  out  of  the  body  it  cannot  other- 
wise act  or  operate.  If  the  candie  shine  in  the 
lantern,  it  can  shine  out  of  it,  though  with  some 
diflerence.  He  is  scarcely  rational  that  doubteth 
whether  there  be  such  things  as  incorporeal,  in- 
visible intelligences,  minds,  or  spiriis :  and  if  they 
can  ar.   without  bodies,  why  may  not  our  minds  ? 


Though  the  egg  would  die  if  the  shell  were  brokem 
or  the  hen  did  not  sit  upon  it,  it  doth  not  follow 
that  therefore  the  chicken  cannot  live  without  a 
shell,  or  sitting  on.  Though  the  embryo  and  infant 
must  have  a  continuity  with  the  mother,  and  be 
nourished  by  her  nourishment,  it  doth  not  follow 
that,  therefore,  it  must  be  so  with  him  when  he  is 
born  and  grown  up  to  ripeness  of  age.  And  when 
there  is  full  proof  that  souls  have  a  future  life  to 
live,  it  is  a  folly  to  doubt  of  it,  merely  because  we 
cannot  conceive  of  the  inanner  of  their  acting  with- 
out a  body  ;  for  he  that  is  not  desirous  to  be 
deceived,  must  reduce  things  uncertain  and  dark 
to  those  that  are  clear  and  certain,  and  not  con- 
trarily  ;  all  good  arguing  is  d.  notioribiis,  and  not 
a  minimis  notis.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4656.)  Were  the  soul  but  an  accident,  a  quality, 
or  a  result,  he  that  kills  the  body  must  needs  kill 
the  soul  too,  as  he  that  casts  a  snowball  into  the 
fire  must  needs  destroy  the  whiteness  with  the  snow. 
Accidents  fail  and  perish  witli  their  subjects.  But, 
seemg  it  is  plain  in  these  and  many  other  scriptures 
(Luke  xxiii.  43  ;  Matt.  x.  20,  &c.),  the  soul  does 
not  fail  with  the  body,  nothing  can  be  more  plain 
and  evident  than  that  it  is  of  a  substantial  nature. 

When  the  Spaniards  came  first  among  the  poor 
Indians,  they  thought  the  horse  and  his  rider  to  be 
one  creature,  as  many  ignorant  ones  think  the  soul 
and  body  of  man  to  be  nothing  but  breath  and  body. 
Whereas  indeed  they  are  two  distinct  creatures,  as 
vastly  different  in  their  natures  is  the  rider  and  his 
horse,  or  the  bird  and  his  cage.  While  the  man  is 
on  liorseback  he  moves  according  to  the  motion  of 
the  horse  ;  and  while  the  bird  is  encaged,  he  eats 
and  drinks,  and  sleeps,  and  hops  and  sings  in  his 
cage.  But  if  the  horse  fail  and  die  under  his  rider, 
or  the  cage  be  broken,  the  man  can  go  on  his  own 
feet,  and  the  bird  enjoy  itself  as  well,  yea,  better,  in 
the  open  fields  and  woods  than  in  the  cage  ;  neither 
depend,  as  to  being  or  action,  on  the  horse  or  cage. 
— Flavel,  1 630- 1 69 1, 

(4657.)  I  once  heard  a  preacher  trying  to  teach 
young  children  that  the  soul  would  live  afte:  they 
were  all  dead.  They  listened,  but  did  not  under- 
stand what  he  was  saying.  But  at  last,  taking  his 
watch  from  his  pocket,  he  said — 

"  James,  what  is  this  1  am  holding  in  my  hand  I " 

"  A  watch,  sir." 

"  Do  you  all  see  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  is  a  watch  ?  " 

"  It  ticks,  sir." 

"Very  well,  can  any  of  you  hear  it  tick?  all 
listen  now.' 

After  a  pause — 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  we  hear  it." 

He  then  took  off  the  case,  and  held  the  case  in 
one  hand  and  the  watch  in  the  other. 

"  Now,  children,  which  is  the  watch  ?  You  see 
there  are  two  which  look  like  watches." 

"  The  little  one  in  your  right  hand,  sir," 

"  Very  well  again  ;  now  1  will  lay  the  case  aside, 
and  put  it  away  down  there  in  my  hat.  Now  let  us 
see  il  you  can  hear  the  waicli  tick." 

''  Yes,  sir,  we  hear  it,"  exclaimed  several  voices, 

"  Well,  the  watch  can  tick,  and  go,  and  keep 
time,  you  see,  when  the  case  is  taken  off  and  put 
in  my  hat.  The  watch  goes  just  as  well.  .So  it  is 
with  you,  children.     Your  body  is  nothing  but  the 


SOUL.     THE 


(    779    ) 


SOUL.     THE 


case ;  your  soul  is  inside.  The  case — the  body — 
may  be  taken  off  and  buried  in  tlie  ground,  and  the 
soul  will  live  and  think  just  as  well  as  the  watch 
will  go,  as  you  see,  when  tiie  case  is  oil  !  " 

(5.)  The  soul  contains  within  itself  prophecies  oj 
immortality. 

(465S. )  Among  these  and  other  excellent  argu- 
ments for  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  there  is  one 
diawn  from  the  perpetual  progress  of  tlie  soul  to  its 
peifection  without  a  possibility  of  ever  arriving  at 
it  ,  winch  is  a  hint  that  1  do  not  remember  to  have 
seen  opened  and  improved  by  others  who  have 
written  on  this  subject,  though  it  seems  to  me  to 
carry  a  great  weight  with  it.  How  can  it  enter 
into  the  thoughts  of  man,  that  the  soul,  which  is 
capable  of  such  immense  perfections,  and  of  receiv- 
ing new  im|)rovements  to  all  eternity,  shall  fall 
away  inio  nothing  almost  as  soon  as  it  is  created? 
Are  such  abilities  made  for  no  purpose  ? 

— Addison,  1 672- 1 7 1 9. 

(4659.)  In  the  desire  for  immortality  man  has 
sure  proof  of  his  capacity  for  it. 

— Soiithey,  1 774-1843. 

(4660.)  Nature  never  deceives.  All  the  in- 
stincts, all  the  faculties  which  are  in  any  of  its 
creatures — there  is  always  something  to  meet  them. 
Nature  does  not  disappoint.  If  there  is  a  parti- 
cular appetite,  there  is  something  to  meet  it ;  if 
there  is  a  particular  faculty,  there  is  something  to 
meet  it;  if  there  is  a  jiaiticular  instinct,  there  is 
something  to  meet  it.  Well,  then,  the  moral  aspira- 
tions of  man,  the  spiritual  instincts,  the  irrepres- 
silile  anticipations  of  which  he  is  capable  antl  which 
are  in  him,  part  of  himself,  faculties  and  instincts 
which  nature  has  bestowed,  is  she  to  play  fast  and 
loose  with  them  ?  Is  she  to  deceive  hiui  with 
regard  to  them?  She  deceives  in  nothing  besides. 
She  meets  every  apjietite  and  instinct  of  interior 
creatures,  she  meets  them  with  that  which  is  appro- 
priate ;  but  the  higliesi  alfections,  the  noblest  aspira- 
tions, the  spiritual  instincts,  are  they  all  a  make- 
believe?  Is  nature  deceiving  and  tantalising  man 
in  all  tliat  ?  You  take  an  egg  out  from  under  the 
parent  bird  when  she  has  been  sitting  on  it,  and  it 
is  nearly  come  to  perfection  ;  you  hold  the  egg  in 
your  hand  :  there  it  is,  as  it  were,  a  dark  world 
with  its  single  inhabitant.  You  take  off  the  top  ; 
you  look  in.  There  in  that  darkness  are  tiny  wings. 
What  are  they?  Of  what  use  are  they  there  in  that 
little  dark  world  occupied  by  that  individual? 
Why,  they  are  a  propliecy  that  the  creature  is  in- 
tended for  a  world  in  which  there  is  an  atmosphere, 
intended  to  be  born  into  an  atmosphere,  and  there 
is  its  preparation.  Tliese  tiny  wings  are  a  prophecy 
and  preparation  for  its  future  condition.  Have  the 
souls  of  men  no  wings  ?  Are  not  the  spiritual 
aspirations,  desires,  hopes,  anticipations — are  not 
these  wings  of  the  spirit  ?  Are  they  not  instincts 
which  are  given  to  us  here,  which  are  a  prophecy 
to  us  of  the  luture  for  which  we  are  intended  ? 

— Binney. 

(4661.)  The  spirit  or  soul  of  man  knows  itself 
to  be  capable,  1  will  not  say  of  unlimited,  but  of 
continuous  proj^ess  and  development.  However 
vigorous  the  tree  or  the  animal  may  be,  it  soon 
reaches  the  point  when  it  can  grow  no  more. 
Tiie  time  comes  when  the  tree  has  borne  all  the 
leaves  and  fruit  and  buds  rhich    t  can  bear,  when 


its  vital  force  is  exhausted,  and  it  is  no  more.  The 
animal  may  have  done  its  best,  it  may  have  reached 
a  high  condition  of  strength  and  beauty,  but  when 
its  limit  is  reached  it  can  grow  no  more.  With 
the  soul  of  man  as  a  living  and  thinking  power  it 
is  far  otherwise  ;  he  has  never  exiiausted  himself. 
When  the  man  of  science  has  made  some  noble 
discovery,  when  the  literary  man  has  written  a 
great  book,  when  the  statesman  has  carried  a 
series  of  impoitant  measures,  we  cannot  say  that 
he  has  exhausted  himself.  The  spiritual  man  is 
indeed  dejieniient  on  the  material  man,  and  as  the 
body  moves  on  towards  decay  and  dissolution  it 
extends  something  of  the  influence  of  its  weakness 
and  incapacity  to  its  spiritual  companion  ;  but  even 
then  the  soul  resists  this  and  asserts  its  separate 
exi-^tence ;  the  mind  of  man  knows  tiiat  each 
separate  effort  instead  of  exhausting  his  powers 
tends  to  strengthen  them,  and  so  he  will  go  on 
continually  making  larger  and  nobler  and  more 
vigorous  efforts.  So,  too,  is  it  with  conscience  and 
duty;  with  these  there  is  no  finality.  One  great 
act  suggests  another,  one  sacrifice  makes  another 
easier  ;  the  virtuous  impulse  in  the  soul  is  not  like 
the  grcjwth  in  the  tree,  a  self-exhausiing  force,  but 
it  is  always  movmg  on,  always  advancing.  "Be 
not  weary  in  well-doing" — this  is  the  language  of 
the  Eternal  to  the  human  will  ;  but  never  is  "  Be 
not  weary  of  growing"  said  to  the  tree  or  the 
animal,  because  oiganic  matter  differs  from  spirit 
in  this,  that  it  does  reach  the  limit  of  its  activity, 
and  then  it  turns  backwards  towards  non-existence. 

— Liddon. 

(4662.)  Oh,  if  this  life  were  all  that  I  could  have, 
I  should  weep,  it  seems  to  me,  from  the  present 
hour  to  the  very  end,  unless  1  could  say,  as  the 
ancients  did,  "  Let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry. 
To-morrow  we  die,  so  let  us  make  the  best  of  the 
little  time  that  is  left  us."  1  should  be  in  a  state 
of  wanton,  merry  despair,  on  the  one  side  ;  or  of 
tearful,  sad  despair,  on  the  other  side.  I  must 
live  again.  I  must  make  the  experiment  of  life 
once  more.  I  have  made  poor  woik  here,  but  I 
have  met  with  just  success  enough  to  feel  that  if  I 
had  a  better  chance  1  could  do  something.  I  am 
like  a  man  that  takes  the  first  canvas  to  paint  a 
picture.  He  does  not  know  what  he  will  do.  He 
lays  in  forms  in  all  sorts  of  ways  without  coming 
to  any  satisfactory  result.  At  last  he  says,  "I  can- 
not make  anything  of  that  picture  ;  but  I  have  a 
conception.  Bring  me  a  fresh  canvas,  and  I  will 
try  again,  when  I  tliink  I  shall  have  better  success." 
I  have  long  been  trying  to  paint  a  true  lile,  and 
have  only  partially  succeeded  ;  but  if  God  Almighty 
will  give  me  another  canvas,  I  think  I  can  paint 
better.  And  He  will.  He  that  brought  forth  from 
the  dead  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  will 
bring  me  forth.  — Beecher. 

(4663.)  The  faith  of  immortality  is  the  world's 
peculiar  need.  We  need  this  laith  from  the  sense 
of  the  incompleteness  which  iheie  is  in  this  mortal 
state;  and  we  neeil  it  just  in  proportion  as  we  rise 
toward  perfection  ourselves.  \\  e  need  it  because 
Hie  in  us  awakens  a  ihou>and  ideas  and  recognitions 
of  possibilities  which,  a  ter  all,  we  cannot  realise  in 
this  world,  nor  fulfil.  We  are  perpetually  receiving 
seeds  in  our  temperate  zone,  from  loreign  zones  : 
seeds  from  South  America,  and  seeds  Irom  the 
Orient.     They  have  great  promise  in  them  ;  some 


SOUL.     THE 


(    780    ) 


TEMPTATION. 


of  fniit,  some  of  esculent  vegetable,  and  some  of 
blossom  ;  and  the  torment  of  our  summer  to  those 
who  are  enthusiastic  in  regard  to  such  tilings,  is  that 
it  is  not  warm  enough  nor  long  enougli  to  brmg 
forth  tlicir  excellence.  The  flower  will  not  blossom  ; 
the  fruit  will  not  develop  its  saccharine  nature. 
Hundreds  and  thousands  of  men  plant  these  seeds, 
and  nourish  them  till  they  begin  to  develop  all  the 
habits  of  their  respective  species,  and  throw  out  buds 
which  give  promise  of  fruit,  and  excite  confident 
expectation.  With  great  care  the  gardener  protects 
the  plants  frc^r.  the  first  frosts,  hoping  thereby  to 
enable  it  to  come  to  maturity.  But  at  last  winter 
smites  it  before  it  has  even  blossomed,  and  he  can- 
not but  say,  "The  growth  of  this  plant  was  not 
completed  ;  it  was  susceptible  of  further  develop- 
ment ;  but  I  could  not  carry  it  any  further  because 
the  season  was  not  long  enough  nor  warm  enough." 
And  all  the  reasoning  in  this  world  could  not  con- 
vince him  that  God  created  that  plant  to  stop  growing 
where  it  did.  He  says  he  stakes  his  being  on  it,  he 
declares  that  it  stands  to  reason  (for  that  is  the 
expression  which  men  employ  when  they  feel  all 
all  over  that  a  thing  is  true,  when  they  have  an  in- 
stinct in  them  that  it  is  true,  but  when  they  have  no 
reason  about  it)  that  the  seed  of  this  partly  dLveloped 
plant  was  meant  somewhere  to  have  a  summer  long 
enough  for  its  full  development.  Or,  if  he  carries 
it  so  far  as  to  bring  out  a  flower,  he  says,  "  Thnnk 
God  for  the  flower  ;  but  I  want  to  see  if  under 
other  conditions  I  cannot  carry  the  plant  far  enough 
to  develop  seed  or  fruit."  For  there  is  many  a 
summer  that  is  long  enough  and  warm  enough  to 
develop  buds,  which  is  noi  long  enough  and  warm 
enough  to  develop  flowers  ;  and  there  is  many  a 
summer  that  is  long  enough  and  warm  enough  to 
develop  flowers,  which  is  not  long  enough  and  warm 
enough  to  develop  seed  or  fruit.  And  he  says,  "If 
I  can  get  another  seed,  I  will  see  if  I  cannot  bring 
it  to  ripeness."  He  tries,  and  fails;  the  summer  is 
too  short ;  and  he  says  to  himself  (and  in  your 
thought  and  feeling  every  one  of  you  justifies  his 
conclusion),  "  There  must  be,  somewhere,  a  clime 
to  which  this  seed  is  adapted.  It  grew  somewhere, 
and  somewhere  there  is  a  summer  warm  enough  and 
long  enough  for  it.  And  if  1  could  find  that  place, 
and  plant  it,  it  would  grow,  through  the  kindly 
months,  until  it  swelled  into  ripeness,  developing  in 
their  turn  bud,  and  blossom,  and  fruit."  Now  I 
declare  that  human  life  in  this  world  is  a  seed  whose 
development  here  stops  far  short  of  those  possibilities 
which  are  foreshadowed  in  its  experiences.  Here 
men  are  not  fully  developed  in  any  sinL;le  faculty  of 
their  being,  except  those  which  are  related  to  time 
and  earth.  — Beecher. 

(6.)   The  condition  of  the  soul  in  the  future  life. 

(4664.)  Thank  God,  when  I  go  home  to  heaven, 
I  shall  leave  behind  many  things  that  will  be  of  no 
use  to  me  there.  When  an  engine  is  taken  from 
one  boat  and  placed  in  another,  it  is  not  necessary 
that  the  fastenings  should  go  with  it.  The  screws 
and  i^lamps  and  feeding-pumps  that  belong  to  that 
peculiar  ship  from  which  it  is  taken  may  be  left 
behino.  The  screws  and  clamps  and  feeding  pumps 
that  have  been  necessary  to  keep  my  mind  in  this 
body,  and  that  it  has  given  me  so  much  trouble  to 
patch  and  mend,  I  snail  leave  in  the  grave.  But 
my  supremest  reason,  my  divinest  sentiments  of 
religion,  my  affections  and  loves,  my  tastes — these 
God,  the  blessed   i'ilot,  shall  carry  safely  through 


the  grave  and  its  darkness,  and  I  shall  be  planted 
again  in  heaven,  where  snows  never  fall,  where  frosts 
never  come,  and  T  shall  bring  out  leaf  and  blossom 
and  fruit  ;  and  ihen,  with  leaf  and  blossom  and 
fruit,  1  will  ]iresent  myself  at  the  Throne  of  God, 
saying,  "Thou  hast  given  me  life,  and  life  again, 
and  life  for  ever :  to  Thee,  and  to  Thee  only,  be 
praise  and  honour  and  glory  evermore." 

— Beecher, 

(7.)   The  developments  it  renders  possible. 

(4665.)  The  caterpillar,  on  being  converted  into 
an  inert  scaly  mass,  does  not  appear  to  be  fitting 
itself  for  an  inhabitant  of  the  air,  and  can  have  no 
consciousness  of  the  brilliancy  of  its  future  being. 
We  are  masters  of  the  earth,  but  perhaps  we  are 
the  slaves  of  some  great  and  unknown  being.  The 
fly  that  we  crush  with  our  finger  or  feed  with  our 
viands  has  no  knowledge  of  man,  and  no  consciou."?- 
ness  of  his  superiority.  We  suppose  that  we  are 
acquainted  with  matter  and  all  its  elements  ;  yet 
we  cannot  even  guess  at  the  cause  of  electricity,  or 
explain  the  laws  of  the  formation  of  the  stones  that 
fall  from  meteors.  There  may  be  beings,  thinking 
beings,  near  or  surrounding  us,  which  we  do  not 
perceive,  which  we  cannot  imagine.  We  know  very 
little  ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  we  know  enough  to  hope 
for  the  immortality,  the  individual  immorlality,  of 
the  better  part  of  man. 

— ^ir  Humphrey  Davy,  1778-1829. 

(8.)  If  an  error,  a  delightful  error. 

(4666.)  But  if  I  err  in  believing  that  tTie  souls  ol 
men  are  immortal,  I  willingly  err;  nor  while  1  live 
would  I  wish  to  have  this  delightful  error  extorted 
from  me  ;  and  if  after  death  I  shall  feci  nothing,  as 
some  minuie  philosophers  think,  I  am  not  afraid 
lest  dead  philosophers  should  laugh  at  me  for  the 
error.  — Cicero,  B.C.  106-43. 

(9 .)  Ho7v  faith  in  tke  soul's  immortality  should 

manifest  itself. 

(4667.)  If  the  soul  be  immortal,  it  requires  to  be 
cultivated  with  attention,  not  only  for  what  we  call 
the  time  of  life,  but  for  that  which  is  to  follow, — I 
mean  eternity  ;  and  the  least  neglect  in  this  point 
may  be  attended  with  endles';  consequences.  If 
death  were  the  final  dissolution  of  being,  the  wicked 
would  be  great  gainers  by  it,  by  being  delivered  at 
once  from  their  bodies,  their  souls,  and  their  vices; 
but  as  the  soul  is  immortal,  it  has  no  other  means  of 
being  freed  from  its  evils,  nor  any  safety  for  it,  but 
in  becoming  very  good  and  very  wise  ;  for  it  carries 
nothing  with  it  but  its  bad  or  good  deeds,  its 
virtues  and  vices,  whicli  are  commonly  the  conse- 
quences of  the  educaiion  it  has  received,  and  the 
causes  of  eternal  happiness  or  misery. 

— Socrates,  B.C.  469-339. 


TEMPTATION, 

I.     WHY  IT  IS  PERMITTED. 

1.  That  our  hearts  may  he  revealed  to  u«. 

(4668.)  Worms,  and  other  insects,  take  up  their 
habitation  under  the  surface  of  the  earth  A  plot 
of  ground  may  be  outwardly  verdant  with  grass,  and 
decorated  with  flowers  ; — but  take  a  spade  in  your 
hand,  and  turn  up  the  mould,  and  you  soon  have  a 


TEMPTATION. 


(    781     ) 


TEMPTATION. 


sample  of  the  vermhi  that  lurks  beneath.  Tempta- 
tion IS  the  S]iacle  which  breaks  up  the  ground  of  a 
believer's  heart,  nnd  helps  to  discover  the  corrup- 
tions of  his  fallen  nature.  — Salter. 

2.  That  our  character  may  toe  tested. 

(4669.)  We  know  not  what  patience  we  have, 
what  courage,  wliat  zeal,  till  we  be  put  to  it.  A 
man  is  that  he  is  when  he  is  tempted.  Some  pre- 
sume more  than  ihey  can  ;  so  did  Peter — "l"lioui;h 
1  should  die  with  Thee,  I  will  not  deny  Thee  :  " 
alas  !  lie  knew  not  liis  own  weakness.  Others  doubt 
of  that  ihey  can,  as  Naaman  ;  (^oA  be  mercKul  to 
me  when  I  come  into  the  house  of  Rimmon  :  here  I 
can  serve  God  constantly,  but  when  I  wait  on  my 
master  to  the  idolatrous  temple,  what  shall  I  do 
then  ?  Lord,  be  merciful  to  me  in  this.  Go  in 
peace,  saith  the  prophet  ;  God  will  strengthen  thee. 
Every  cock-boat  can  swim  in  a  river,  every  sculler 
sail  ill  a  calm  ;  every  man  of  a  patient  temper  or 
cheery  disposition,  can  hold  up  his  liead  in  ordinary 
gusts.  But  when  a  black  storm  rises,  a  tenth  wave 
flows,  deep  calls  unto  deep,  nature  yields,  s]">iiit 
faints,  heart  fails  ;  here  is  the  trial,  how  dost  tiiou 
now  ?  When  our  hopes  are  adjourned,  our  expecta- 
tion delayed,  and  instead  of  pleasing  contents  we 
find  bitter  sorrows  ;  tliis  will  discover  our  hearts. 
If,  then,  faith  prevail  above  sense,  and  hope  against 
all  natural  reason  and  fear,  our  graces  shall  shine 
like  orient  pearls,  in  true  and  perfect  beauty.  After 
all  the  prorogations  ol  promised  ease,  still  to  stand 
erect  and  trium|)h  ;  here  is  the  assurance  of  faith, 
that  hath  the  word  for  compass,  Christ  at  the  helm, 
and  the  voyage  is  salvation.  — Adams,  1654. 

(4670.)  A  further  reason  why  you  are  thus 
tempted  and  tried  is,  that  God,  in  His  wise  pro- 
vidence, is  now  testing  you  to  see  whether  you  are  a 
fit  man  for  His  work.  Before  a  fire-aim  is  sold  it  is 
taken  to  the  proof-sliop,  and  there  it  is  loaded  with 
a  charge,  perhaps  four  or  five  times  heavier  than  it 
will  ever  have  to  carry  at  the  ordinary  sportsman's 
hand.  Tlie  barrels  are  fiied,  and  if  they  burst  in 
the  proof-house  no  great  hurt  is  done  ;  where?j  it 
would  be  exceedingly  dangerous  if  they  should  burst 
in  the  hands  of  some  unskilful  man.  So  God  takes 
His  servants.  Some  He  will  make  s-pecial  use  of, 
He  puts  to  the  proof,  perhaps  loads  them  with  five 
times  more  temptations  than  He  mcani  tJiey  should 
oidinarily  have  to  endure,  in  order  that  He  may 
see,  and  prove  to  onlookers,  that  they  are  lit  men  for 
the  Divine  service.  We  have  heard  that  the  old 
warriors,  before  they  would  use  their  swords,  would 
bend  them  across  their  knees.  They  must  see 
whether  they  had  the  right  stuff  or  no  before  they 
would  venture  into  battle  with  them.  And  God 
does  this  wiih  His  servants.  Martin  Luther  had 
never  been  the  Martin  Luther  he  was,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  devil.  The  devil  was,  as  it  were,  the 
proof-house  for  Martin  Luther.  He  must  be  tried 
ind  tempted  by  Satan,  and  then  he  becomes  fit  for 
the  Master's  use.  —  Spurgeon, 

S.  That  our  vigilance  may  be  Increased. 

(4(71.)  The  Lord  permits  Satan  continually  to 
assail  us  with  his  temptations,  to  the  end  that  we 
may  continually  buckle  upon  us  the  whole  armour 
of  God,  that  we  may  be  ready  for  the  battle.  For 
as  those  who  have  no  enemies  to  encounter  them 
cast  their  armour  aside  and  let  it  rust  because  tiiey 
are   secure  from  danger,   but  when  their  enemies 


are  at  hand  and  sound  the  alarm,  they  both  wake 
and  sleep  in  their  armour,  ready  for  the  assault  ; 
so,  if  we  should  not  continually  skirmish  with  our 
spiritual  enemies,  we  would  lay  aside  the  spiritual 
armour;  but  when  we  have  continual  use  for  it, 
both  day  and  night  we  keep  it  fast  buckled  upon 
us,  that  being  armed  at  all  points,  we  may  he  able 
to  make  resistance  and  not  be  surpiised  at  un- 
awares. — Downame,  1642. 

4.  That  our  assurance  may  be  strengthened. 

(4672.)  God  sometimes  permits  Satan  to  assail 
His  dear  children,  the  more  to  strengthen  them  in 
His  spiritual  gr.nces,  and  to  confirm  them  more  fully 
in  the  assurance  of  His  love  and  their  salvation. 

For  as  a  city  which  has  been  once  besieged  and 
not  sacked  will  ever  after  be  more  strong  to  hold 
out  if  it  be  assaulted  by  the  like  danger,  because 
the  citizens  will  carefully  fortify  their  walls  and 
increase  their  bulwarks,  and  as  he  who  has  been 
once  robbed  by  thieves  will  ever  after  ride  better 
prepared  to  make  resistance,  that  he  do  not  again 
fall  into  their  hand  ;  so  those  who  are  besieged  and 
assaulted  by  their  spiritual  enemies  will  ever  after 
more  carefully  arm  themselves  against  them  with 
the  graces  of  God's  Spirit,  that  they  may  not  be 
overcome  nor  foiled  by  them. 

We  know  that  whilst  men  quietly  enjoy  their 
possessions  and  inheritance  they  rest  secure,  keep- 
ing their  writings  in  a  box  without  ever  looking 
on  them  from  year  to  year  ;  but  when  their  title  and 
right  is  called  into  question,  and  some  man  labours 
to  thrust  them  out  of  their  possession,  then  they 
peruse  their  writings  and  deeds  with  all  diligence. 
And  not  satisfied  with  their  own  judgment,  they 
resort  to  skilful  lawyers,  craving  their  counsel  how 
they  may  maintain  their  right,  and  answer  the  plea 
which  tlieir  adversary  makes  against  them.  Where- 
by oftentimes  it  comes  to  pass  that  they  make  their 
title  not  only  much  more  strong  in  itself,  but  also 
more  clear  and  evident  unto  all  others,  so  that 
afterwards  none  dare  once  adventure  to  trouble 
them  again,  or  call  their  right  into  question.  So 
whilst  we  never  doubt  of  our  heavenly  inheritance 
we  rest  secure,  and  let  the  boo'K  of  God,  which  is 
our  best  deed  and  evidence,  lie  under  our  cupboards 
till  it  mo"'d  for  want  of  use.  But  when  Satan  by 
his  temptations  calls  our  title  into  question,  and 
pleads  tliat  we  have  no  right  to  God's  kingdom, 
then  do  we  most  carefully  and  diligently  peruse  the 
book  of  God,  then  do  we  go  unto  God's  ministers, 
desiring  their  counsel  how  we  may  answer  Satan's 
plea  and  clear  our  title  ;  then  do  we  most  carefully 
use  all  good  means  to  increase  our  knowledge,  that 
thereby  we  n>ay  thoroughly  inform  ourselves  of  our 
light,  and  confirm  our  assurance  against  all  cavils 
and  objections.  And  hereby  it  comes  to  pass  that 
those  who  before  had  very  weak  titles  to  their 
heavenly  inheritance,  whilst  they  lived  reckless  and 
secure,  and  but  slender  assurance  ever  to  enjoy  it ; 
now,  by  their  care,  pains,  and  diligence  have  so 
confirmed  it  unto  themselves,  and  so  cleared  it  to 
all  the  world,  that  Satan  dare  never  after  call  it  in- 
to question  ;  unless  he  do  it,  like  many  contentious 
men  in  these  days,  rather  that  he  may  trouble  and 
vex  them  with  a  tedious  suit,  than  for  any  hope  of 
prevailing  in  the  end.  — Downame,  1642. 

II.    HOli^  IT  ASSAILS  US. 
1.  Under  false  masks. 
{4673.)  Satan  like  a  pirate  hangs  out  flags  of 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


(    732     ) 


TEMPTA  TIC.V 


truce,  to  signify  pence  and  friendsiiip,  till  he  have 
gotten  us  williin  his  reacli  and  command  :  and  then 
he  grapples  willi  us,  ransacks  us  of  all  God's  graces, 
and  casts  us  overboard  inio  the  sea  of  destruction. 
— Doiiina'iie,  1642. 

(4674.)  When  Satan  assaults  any  poor  soul,  he 
suffers  nothing  to  appear  to  the  eye  but  pleasure, 
profit,  a  sweet  satisfaction  of  our  de^^ires,  and  a 
|)]ianlasnia  of  happiness.  There  is  also  wrath,  and 
judgment,  and  torment,  and  sting  of  conscience 
belonging  to  it  ;  these  must  be,  but  these  shall  not 
be  seen.  All  the  way  is  white  snow,  that  hides 
the  pit.  Green  grass  temjits  us  to  walk  ;  the  ser- 
pent is  unseen,  ll  temptations,  like  plaises,  might 
be  turned  on  both  sides,  tlie  kingdom  of  darkness 
would  not  be  so  populous.  If  David  could  have 
foreseen  the  grief  of  his  broken  bones  ere  he  fell 
upon  Batiisheba,  those  aspersions  of  blood  and 
lust  had  not  befallen  him.  If  Achan  could  have 
foreseen  the  stones  about  his  ears  before  he  filched 
those  accursed  things,  he  would  never  have  fingered 
them.  But  as  it  is  snid  of  Adam  and  Eve  after 
their  fall,  "Then  their  eyes  were  opened  ;"  then, 
not  before.  Judas  was  blind  till  he  had  done  the 
deed,  then  his  eyes  were  opened,  and  he  saw  it  in 
its  true  horror.  — Adams,  1653. 

{4675.)  Temptations,  like  Delilah,  tell  us  a  fair 
tale,  but  their  end  is  to  bring  us  a-sleep,  and  jiluck 
out  our  eyes.  —Adams,  1653. 

(4676.)  "  I  am  very  sharj-)."  said  the  Hook 
whicij  was  holding  the  struggling  Fish. 

"I  k-Dw  that  but  too  well,"  answered  the  poor 
cap'll/e  ;  "but  let  me  tell  you,  it  was  not  owing  so 
much  unto  your  sharjiness  that  I  am  captured,  as  to 
the  bit  of  bait  by  which  I  was  tempted." 

"  It  is  the  way  all  Hooks  succeed,"  observed  the 
other;  "there  must  be  trick  in  order  to  decoy. 
Had  you  seen  niy  point,  and  been  aware  of  the 
ianger,  you  should  have  wisely  kept  out  of  the  way 
'nstead  of  so  readily  swallowing  the  worm." 

15y  disguised  teni]5tations  the  great  enemy  hopes, 
»nd  frequently  succeeds,  to  get  souls  into  his  ]>ower. 
(low  often  a  Hook  is  hid  within  a  Lure!  and  in 
»\hat  niultiuides  of  instances  souls  have  perished 
through  catching  at  tlie  Bait,  which  Satan  placed 
'm  the  way.  — Bowaen. 

2.  In  many  forms. 

(4677.)  If  there  were  but  one  cup  alone,  it  would 
cloy,  and  satiate,  and  procure  loathing,  as  even 
/aanna  did  to  Israel ;  theiefore  Satan  doth  diversify 
Ills  drmks,  to  keep  the  wicked  man's  appetite  Iresh 
and  sharji.  II  he  be  weary  ol  one  sin,  behold, 
another  stands  at  his  elbow.  Hath  Dives  dined? 
He  may  walk  up  to  his  study,  and  tell  his  money, 
liis  bags,  his  idnis  ;  or  call  for  the  key  of  his  ward- 
robe, to  feed  his  proud  eye  with  his  silks  :  for 
divilire  et  delicue,  riches  and  pleasure,  serve  one 
another's  turn.  If  Nahal  be  weary  of  counting  his 
flocks,  or  laying  up  their  lleeces,  he  may  go  and 
make  himsell  diunk  with  his  sheep-shearers. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(4678.)  If  thou  dost  not  stumble  at  this  stone, 
the  devil  hath  anotiier  at  liand  to  tiirow  in  the  way. 
He  is  not  so  unskilful  a  fowler  as  to  go  with  one 
single  shot  into  the  field  ;  and  therefore  expect  him, 
as  soon  as  he  halh  discharged  one,  and  misled  thee, 
to  let  fly  at  thee  with  a  second. 

—  Gumall,  1617-1679. 


3.  In  forms  specially  adapted  to  our  weakness. 

(4679.)  The  devil  plagues  and  torments  us  in  thn 
place  where  we  are   most   tender  and   weak.      In 
I'aradise  he  fell  not  upon  Adam,  but  upon  Eve. 
— Liilher,  1483-1546. 

(46S0.)  The  world  is  Satan's  bait.  He  seldom 
throws  out  a  naked  hook.  Let  murder,  fraud,  lying, 
or  idolatry  be  presented  in  their  undisguised  turpi- 
tude, and  few  of  good  education  and  correct  morals 
can  be  taken  captive  by  him.  But  he  conceals  the 
hook  in  a  goodly  bail,  and  like  a  skilful  angler. 
He  knows  how  to  use  that  jjart  of  the  world  which 
is  best  suited  to  our  taste  and  most  likely  to  decoy. 
For  one  he  has  a  golden  bait  ;  for  another,  pleasure  ; 
for  a  thiid,  worldly  consequence  and  honour.  And 
his  line  is  thrown  out  in  every  place, — in  the  place 
of  business,  in  our  families,  studies,  and  at  our  tables, 
and  on  our  pillows.  — Jackson,  1640. 

(4681.)  Satan,  like  a  fisher,  baits  his  hook  accord- 
ing to  the  appetite  of  the  fish.       — Adams,  1653. 

(46S2.)  An  enemy  before  he  besiegeth  a  city, 
surroundeth  it  at  a  distance  to  see  where  the  wall  is 
the  weakest,  best  to  be  battered,  lowest,  easiest  to 
be  scaled,  ditch  narrowest  to  be  bridged,  shallowest 
to  be  waded  over  ;  what  place  is  not  regularly  for- 
tified, where  he  may  approach  with  least  danger, 
and  assault  with  most  advantage  :  so  Satan  walketh 
about,  surveying  all  the  powers  of  our  souls,  where 
he  may  most  probably  lay  his  templaiions,  as 
whether  our  understandings  are  easier  corrupted 
with  error,  or  our  fancies  with  levity,  or  our  willj 
with  frowardness,  or  our  affections  with  excess. 

— FuiUr,  1 608- 1 66 1. 

(4683.)  Sometimes  a  man  shall  see  the  scene  of 
things  round  about  him  so  fitly  laid,  and  prepared 
to  serve  him  in  the  gratification  of  his  corrupt 
desire,  that  he  cannot  i)ut  conclude  that  there  was 
Something  more  than  blind  chance  which  brought 
him  into  that  condition.  For  when  we  see  a  net  or 
snare  cuiiously  and  artificially  placed,  we  may  be 
stire  that  there  is  something  intended  to  be  caught, 
and  that  the  fowler  is  not  far  off,  whether  we  see 
him  or  no.  — ^otith,  1633-17 16. 

4.  From  opposite  quarters. 

(4684.)  Temptations  may  be  compared  to  the 
wind,  which  when  it  has  ceased  raging  from  one 
ponil,  alter  a  short  calm  frequently  renews  its 
violence  from  another  quarter.  The  Lord  silenced 
Satan's  former  assaults  against  you,  but  he  is  per- 
mitted to  try  you  again  in  another  way. 

— Aewion,  1 725-1807. 

III.    IN  WHAT  ITS  STRENGTH  LIES. 

(4685.)  Let  Satan  present  such  a  bait  as  honour, 
pleasure,  pelf,  and  the  naughty  heart  of  man  skips 
alter  it  as  a  hungry  dog  would  at  a  ciust. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4686.)  Let  any  temptation  whatever  be  propo'^ed 
to  a  man,  the  suitableness  of  whose  matter  to  his 
corruj)tions  or  manner  of  its  proposal  makes  it  a 
temjitation,  immediately  he  has  not  only  to  do  wiih 
the  temptation  as  outwardly  proposed,  but  also 
with  his  own  heart  about  it.  Without  further 
consideration  or  debate,  the  temptation  has  got  a 
friend    lu    him.     IS'ol  a  moment's    space    is   given 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


(    783     ) 


TEMPTA  TION. 


between  the  proposal  and  the  necessity  there  is 
Incumbent  on  the  soul  to  look  to  its  enemy  within. 
In  a  city  that  is  at  unity  with  itself,  compact  and 
entire,  without  divisions  and  parties,  if  an  enemy 
approach  about  it,  the  rulers  and  iniiabitnnts  have 
no  tlioughts  at  all,  but  only  how  they  may  oppose 
the  enemy  witliout,  and  resist  h'm  in  his  ap]iroaches. 
But  if  the  city  be  divided  in  itself,  if  tliere  be  fac- 
tions and  traitors  wiiliin,  the  very  first  thing  tliey 
do  is  to  look  to  the  enemies  at  home,  the  traitors 
within,  to  cut  off  the  head  of  Sheba,  if  they  will  be 
safe.  — Owen,  1616-16S3. 

(4687.)  "  Every  man  is  tempted  when  he  is  drawn 
away  of  his  own  hist,  and  enticed."  If  you  apply 
a  magnet  to  the  end  of  a  needle  that  courses  licely 
on  its  pivot,  the  needle,  affected  by  a  strange 
attraction,  approaches  as  if  it  loved  it.  Reverse 
the  order,  a[iply  the  magnet  now  to  the  opposite 
end — to  the  other  pole,  and  the  needle  shrinks 
away,  trembling,  as  if  it  did  itot  love,  but  hated  it. 
So  it  is  with  temjitation.  One  man  rushes  into 
the  arms  of  vice  ;  another  recoils  from  them  with 
horror.  Joseph  starts  back,  saying,  "  How  can  I 
do  this  great  wickedness,  and  sin  against  God?" 
\Vhat  is  loved  by  one,  is  loathsome  in  another's 
eye3  ;  and  according  as  the  nature  it  addresses  is 
holy  or  unholy,  temptation  attracts  or  repels  ;  gives 
pain  or  pleasure  ;  is  loved  or  hated.  It  is  our 
corrupt  and  evil  passions  that  give  its  power  to 
temptation.  Tliese  are  the  combustibles  it  fires  ; 
the  quick  and  fiery  ])owder,  that  a  spark,  which  a 
dewdrop  had  quenched,  flashes  into  an  explosion. 

—  Guthrie. 

(46S8.)  It  is  in  our  own  bosom  that  the  power 
of  temptation  is  found.  Temptation  is  but  a  spark; 
and  if  a  spark  fall  upon  ice,  if  it  fall  upon  snow,  if 
it  fall  upon  water,  what  is  the  harm  of  a  spark  ? 
but  if  it  lall  upon  powder — the  powder  is  yours,  the 
spark  only  is  ihe  devil's.  — Beecher. 

(4689.)  The  power  of  temptation  depends  upon 
two  elements  :  first,  the  power  of  presenting  induce- 
ment or  motive  on  the  part  of  the  tempter  ;  and, 
secondly  and  mainly,  the  strength  in  the  victim  of 
the  passion  to  which  this  motive  is  present-ed.  No 
man  could  tcmjit  to  pride  one  that  had  not  already 
a  powerful  tendency  to  pride.  The  chord  must  be 
there  before  the  hand  of  the  harper  can  bring  out 
the  tone.  — Beecher. 

(4690.)  The  power  of  temptation  is  in  proportion 
to  the  nature  of  the  soul  tempied.  A  tlioughtless 
miner  takes  an  uncovered  light  into  the  mine; 
where  there  is  but  little  gas  there  is  l)ut  a  wavering 
and  flickering  of  a  transient  flame, —  hardly  flame 
indeed;  but  wliere  there  is  an  accumulation  of  gas, 
tlie  uncovered  light  occasions  an  explosion  which 
shivers  the  rocks  and  brings  swift  destruction  upon 
all  who  are  in  the  mine.  In  both  cases  it  was  the 
same  mine,  the  same  light,  the  same  miner,  but  the 
condition  of  the  air  was  diffeient.  So  is  it  with  the 
fiery  darts  of  the  u  icked  one  ;  they  are  shot  into  all 
human  hearts,  and  just  in  proportion  to  the  mate- 
rials, so  to  speak,  which  are  lound  tliere  will  be  the 
success  or  failure  of  the  enemy. 

—Joseph  Parker. 

IV.    REASONS   FOR    SHUNNING    IT. 

1.  Because  our  safety  lies  in  avoiding  It. 

(4691.)  [On  a  spider  in  his  uiindcnv.\  See  how 
cunninL;ly  this  little  Arabian  hath  spread  out  his 
tent  lor  a  prey  ;    how  heedfuUy   he  watches  for  a 


passenger.  So  soon  as  ever  he  hears  the  noise  of 
a  fly  afar  ofT,  how  he  hastens  to  his  door  !  and  if 
that  silly  heedless  traveller  do  but  touch  upon  the 
verge  of  that  unsuspected  walk  how  suddenly  doth 
he  seize  upon  the  miserable  booty  ;  and,  after  some 
strife,  binding  him  fast  witli  those  sul)tle  cords, 
drags  the  helpless  captive  after  him  into  his  cave. 

What  is  this  but  an  emblem  of  those  spiritual 
freebooters  that  lie  in  wait  for  our  souls?  They 
are  the  spiders,  we  the  flies  ;  they  have  spread 
their  nets  of  sin  ;  if  we  be  once  caught,  they  bind 
us  fast,  and  hale  us  into  hell. 

—Hall,  1 574-1656. 

{4692.)  The  best  way  to  conquer  sin  is  by 
Parthian  war — to  run  away.  — Adams,  1653. 

(4693)  "A  companion  of  fools  shall  be  de- 
stroyed." Sin  is  a  disease  which  is  communicated 
by  contagion.  Shun,  therefore,  the  place  of  infec- 
tion. More  than  if  they  had  plague  or  fever,  avoid 
the  company  of  the  infected.  Abjure  every  scene, 
abstain  from  every  pleasure,  abandon  every  pursuit, 
which  experience  has  taught  you  tends  to  sin,  dulls 
the  fine  edge  of  conscience,  unfits  for  religious  duties, 
indisposes  for  religious  enjoyments,  sends  you  prayer- 
less  to  bed,  or  dull  and  drowsy  to  prayer.  As  the 
seaman  does  with  surf-beaten  reef  or  iron-bound 
shore,  give  these  a  wide  berth  ;  and,  passing  on, 
hold  straight  away,  under  a  press  of  canvas,  in  your 
course  for  heaven.  — Guthrie. 

(4694.)  A  holy  life  is  impossible  to  any  but  those 
who  stand  on  their  guard  against  the  beginnings  of 
evil.  Take  alarm  at  an  evil  thought,  wish,  desire. 
What  are  these  but  the  germs  of  sin — the  winged 
seeds  which,  wafted  on  by  the  wind,  drop  into  the 
heart,  and,  finding  in  our  natural  corruption  a  fat 
and  too  favourable  soil,  spring  up  into  actual  trans- 
gressions? These,  like  the  rattle  of  the  snake,  the 
hiss  of  the  serpent,  reveal  the  presence  and  near 
neighbourhood  of  danger.  Besides,  does  not  the  ex- 
perience of  all  good  men  prove  that  sin  is  most  easily 
cru>.hed  in  the  laid,  and  that  it  is  safer  to  flee  from 
temptation  than  to  fight  it  ?  Fight  like  a  man  when 
yuu  cannot  avoid  the  battle,  l>ut  rather  flee  than  fight. 
Be  afraid  of  temptation,  avoid  it,  abhor  it  ;  and  if 
caught  by  the  enchantress,  tear  yourself  from  her 
encircling  arms,  seek  safety  in  fliglit,  your  answer 
that  of  Josepii's  chastity,  "Shall  1  do  this  great 
evil  and  sin  against  God  ?  "  — Guthrie. 

(4695.)  Stand  in  awe  of  God,  and  in  fear  of 
temptation.  "  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation."  It  is  not  safe-to  l)ring  gunpowder 
within  the  fall  even  of  a  spark  ;  nor  safe,  however 
dexterous  your  driving,  to  shave  with  your  wheels 
the  edge  ol  a  beetling  precipice  ;  nor  safe  in  the 
best-i)uilt  bark  that  ever  rode  the  waves,  to  sail  on 
the  outmost  rim  of  a  roaring  whirlpool. 

—  Guthrie, 

(4696.)  If  you  have  bad  habits  of  temper,  take 
care  that  you  do  not  go  where  your  temper  will  be 
tried.  If  you  have  had  drinking  haiiits,  be  careful 
that  you  do  not  go  where  the  sight  or  smell  of 
liquor  will  tempt  you  to  drink  again.  If  you  are 
going  to  maintain  your  good  resolutions,  if  you  are 
going  to  reform  your  habits,  keep  away  from  evil. 
Pass  not  by  it.  Turn  from  it.  Avoid  it.  Avoid 
the  very  appearance  of  it.     A  man  who  has  beea 


TEMPTATION 


(    784    ) 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


leading  a  lustful  and  lascivious  life,  cannot  afford  to 
go  into  the  company  of  those  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  go  with  him.  No  amount  of  resolv- 
ing to  do  tight  will  save  a  man  if  he  remains  under 
the  influences  which  have  led  him  to  go  wrong.  If 
a  man  wears  garments  in  which  powder  is  wrought 
into  tiie  texture,  he  cannot  safely  go  and  hire  out  in 
a  blacksmith's  shop.  — Beecker. 

(4697.)  Our  passions  are  inflammatory.  If  once 
a  spark  falls  upon  them  they  explode,  and  you  can- 
not prevent  it.  You  can  keep  fire  away  from 
powder  ;  but  when  you  have  once  touched  fire  to 
powder  it  w  ill  do  no  good  to  say  your  prayers  ;  you 
will  go  up  in  spite  of  yourselves  if  there  is  enough 
of  it.  Our  appetites  and  passions  are  of  such  a 
nature  that  you  must  cure  them  or  keep  them  away 
from  temptation  if  you  would  avoid  any  explosion. 
If  a  man  is  very  passionate,  and  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  give  way  to  his  passion,  and  he  wants  to 
overcome  it,  he  must  watcli  against  being  tempted. 
If  the  fire  comes  to  the  powder  you  will  have  a 
discharge.     You  must  look  out  beforehand. 

— Beecher. 

(4698.)  Camping  down  upon  the  edges  of  a  sin 
from  which  a  man  has  just  escaped  is  dangerous 
work.  A  person  in  such  a  position  is  like  one  who, 
upon  finding  himself  in  the  running  current  of  a 
river  which  is  rising,  swollen  by  heavy  rains, 
struggles  desperately  until  he  reaches  its  banks,  and 
there  settles  himself  in  false  security.  In  the 
morning  the  waters  of  the  freshet  are  booming 
about  him,  and  he  flies  to  the  meadow,  a  little 
higher.  But  the  floods  are  out,  and  they  rise  and 
rise,  faster  than  he  can  run,  and  the  man  who  by 
fleeing  at  once  to  the  tiiozintaiiis  when  he  came  up 
from  the  river  would  have  been  saved,  by  tarrying 
upon  the  lowlands  perishes.  — Beecher. 

(4699.)  Our  Lord  bids  us  watch  and  pray  that  we 
"enter  not  into  temptation."  Let  us  avoid  the 
entrance  to  the  cave,  if  we  would  not  fail  victims 
to  the  lion  that  lurks  there.  If  we  would  save  the 
big  ship,  let  us  stop  the  small  leak.  If  we  would 
preserve  the  palace  from  flames,  let  us  put  out  the 
spark.  If  we  would  prevent  tiie  wide  wedge  burst- 
ing asunder  our  defences,  let  us  not  admit  its  thin 
point.  If  we  would  escape  the  plague,  let  us  not 
breathe  infection.  If  we  would  guard  the  camp 
from  capture,  let  us  defend  the  outworks.  If  we 
would  not  enter  into  temptation,  let  us  watch  against 
the  first  step  that  would  lead  us  astray  from  right- 
eousness, the  only  path  of  safety. 

— A^ewman  Hall. 

(4700.)  A  man  says,  "  I  wish  I  could  be  set  free 
from  sin  to-night,"  and  to-morrow  he  will  mix  with 
gay  associates  and  loose  companions,  and  go  to  places 
of  amusement,  where  he  is  as  sure  to  be  led  into 
sin  as  he  would  be  sure  that  his  coat  would  burn  if 
he  put  it  into  the  fire.  He  goes  into  the  middle  of 
the  mischief;  he  takes  the  finder  of  his  heart  where 
he  knows  there  are  sp:irks,  and  he  says,  "There 
will  come  no  harm  of  it."  He  puts  a  candle  near 
the  gunpowder,  and  he  hopes  he  will  not  be  blown 
away.  The  man  who  means  to  conquer  sin,  and 
resolves  to  conquer  it,  will  keep  himself  out  of 
mischief's  way,  that  he  may  be  clean  before  the 
living  God.  — Spurgeon. 

S.  Because  exposure  to  It  Is  perilous. 

(4701.)  Jonah  was  no  sooner  come  to  Joppa,  but 


he  goes  to  the  haven,  or  meets  with  mariners,  and 
presently  understands  of  a  ship,  not  going  to  Nine- 
veh, but  to  Tarshish.  As  soon  as  he  set  forward 
to  fly  from  God,  Satan  straightway  prepared  a  ship, 
so  tiiat  temptation  and  occasion  of  sin  do  always  go 
together.  Shall  Judas  lack  money,  or  Jonah  stay 
for  a  ship  ?  No,  saith  Satan,  by  the  mouth  of  his 
ministers  :  Here,  Judas,  take  thee  money,  and  be- 
tray thy  Master  ;  and,  Jonah,  here  is  a  ship  for 
thee  :  go,  haste  thee  away,  and  fly  from  the  service 
of  the  Lord.  For  the  devil  is  always  a  very  service- 
able and  pleasant  devil  to  such  as  fly  from  God. 
He  can  find  occasion  at  all  times,  and  means,  and 
instruments  fit  for  that  purpose.  If  thou  wdt  fly 
from  God,  the  devil  will  lend  thee  both  spurs  and  a 
horse,  yea,  a  post-horse,  and  that  will  carry  you 
swiftly  and  lustily  away  unto  all  vanity  and  ungodly 
lusts.  — Henry  Smith,  1 560-1 591. 

(4702.)  Many  think  they  may  allow  themselves 
to  come  near  a  temptation,  and  they  come  so  neai 
that  they  fail  into  the  pit.  As  sometimes  in  yout 
houses,  when  you  light  a  candle,  you  see  moths  that 
will  flutter  up  and  down  the  light,  and  then  ap- 
proach nearer  till  at  length  they  singe  their  wings 
and  perish  ;  so  it  is  with  many,  at  first  they  think 
they  will  not  do  such  a  thing — Oh  !  God  forbid 
that  they  should  do  so  and  so  ;  but  they  will  come 
nigh  a  temptation,  and  be  tampering  with  it,  till  at 
length  they  are  ensnared  by  it  and  destroyed. 

— Burroughs,  1599 -1646. 

(4703.)  Satan  presents  some  sinful  motion  hand- 
somely dressed  up  to  the  eye  of  the  soul,  that  the 
Christian,  ere  he  is  aware  of  it,  may  take  this  biut 
up,  and  handle  it  in  his  thoughts,  till  at  last  he  makes 
it  his  own  by  embracing  it ;  and,  may  be,  this  boy 
sent  in  at  the  window  will  open  the  door  to  let  in  a 
greater  thief.  — Gtirnall,  1617-1679. 

(4704.)  Consider  how  apt  a  temptation  is  to 
diffuse,  and  how  prone  uur  nature  is  to  receive  an 
infection.  It  is  dangerous  dwelling  even  in  sub- 
urbs of  an  infected  city.  Not  only  tlie  touches,  but 
also  the  very  breath  of  a  temptation,  is  poisonous  : 
and  there  is  sometimes  (if  1  may  so  express  il)  * 
contagion  even  w  ithout  a  contact. 

And  if  the  conscience  has  not  wholly  lost  its 
native  tenderness,  it  will  not  only  dread  the  infec- 
tion of  a  wound,  but  also  the  aspersion  of  a  blot. 
For  though  the  soul  be  not  actua.iy  corrupted  and 
debauched  by  a  temptation,  yet  it  is  something  to 
be  sullieil  and  blown  upon  Ijy  it,  to  have  been  in 
the  dangerous  familiarities  of  sin,  and  in  the  next 
approach  and  neighliourhood  of  destruction.  Such 
being  tiie  nature  of  man,  that  is  hardly  possible  for 
him  to  be  near  an  ill  thing,  and  not  the  worse  lor  it. 
— South,  1 633-1 71 6. 

(4705.)  Fly  therefore  the  occasions  and  appear- 
ances of  evil.  If  you  would  not  be  drowned,  w  hat 
do  you  so  near  the  water-side  ?  If  you  would  not 
be  wounded,  why  do  you  thrust  yourself  amou'^ 
3'our  enemies?  If  you  would  escape  the  hook, 
meddle  not  with  the  bait  ;  walk  not  among  thu 
lime-twigs  if  you  would  not  be  entangled. 

Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4706.)  It  is  the  tempter's  care  to  bring  the 
temptation  near  enough,  or  to  draw  the  sinner  near 
enough  to  it ;  the  net  must  come  to  the  fish,  or  the 
fish  to  the  net  ;  the  distant  fire  will  not  burn  the 
wood.      The   devil's   chief    confidence   is    in    the 


TEMPTATION. 


(    785    ) 


TEMPTATION. 


sens?.ive  appetite,  wliich  worketh  strongest  at  hand. 
If  he  get  the  drunkard  into  the  alehouse,  and  show 
him  the  cup,  he  hath  lialf  conquered  him  already  ; 
but  if  he  be  scrupulous  and  modest,  some  one  shall 
drink  a  health,  or  importune  him,  and  put  the  cup 
into  his  hand.  The  thief  with  Achan  shall  see  the 
bait,  and  the  sight  will  work  a  covetous  desire.  The 
glutton  shall  have  a  variety  of  tempting  dishes 
before  him,  and  be  at  a  table  which  by  the  variety 
of  delicious  food  is  fitted  to  become  a  snare  ; 
whereas,  if  he  ha'h  nothing  set  before  him  but  the 
poor  man's  simple  food,  which  hath  nothing  in  it  fit 
to  tempt  him,  he  miglit  easily  have  escaped.  The 
fornicator  shall  have  his  beautiful  dirt  brought  near 
him,  and  presented  to  him  in  a  tempting  thess  ;  for 
at  a  sufficient  distance  there  had  been  liitle  danger. 
The  ambitious  person  shall  have  ])ieferment  offered 
him,  or  brought  so  (air  to  his  hand  that  with  a  little 
seeking  it  may  be  attained.  Tiie  fearful  coward 
shall  be  threatened  with  the  loss  of  estate  or  life, 
and  hear  the  report  of  the  cannons,  guns,  and  drums 
of  Satan.  Peter  is  half  conquered  when  he  is  got 
among  questioning  company  in  the  High  Priest's 
hall.  Thus  David,  thus  Lot,  thus  ordinarily  sinners 
are  drawn  into  the  snare. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4707.)  Weak  dallying  with  forbidden  desires  is 
sure  to  end  in  wicked  clutching  at  them.  Young 
men,  take  care  !  You  stand  upon  the  beetling 
edge  of  a  great  precipice,  when  you  look  over, 
from  your  fancied  security,  at  a  wrong  thing  ;  and 
to  strain  too  far,  and  to  look  too  friendly,  leads  to  a 
perilous  danger  of  toppling  over  and  being  lost  ! 
If  you  know  that  a  thing  cannot  be  won  without 
transgression,  do  not  tamper  with  hankerings  for  it. 
Keep  away  fiom  tlie  edge,  and  ihiti  your  "eyes 
from  beholding  vanity."  — Maclareii, 

(4708.)  What  we  are  taught  to  seek  or  shun  in 
prayer,  we  should  equally  pursue  or  avoid  in  action. 
Very  earnestly,  therefore,  should  we  avoid  tempta- 
tion, seeking  to  walk  so  guardedly  in  the  path  of 
obedience  that  we  may  never  tempt  the  devil  to 
tempt  us.  We  are  not  to  enter  the  thicket  in 
search  of  the  lion.  Dearly  might  we  pay  for  such 
presumption.  This  lion  may  cross  our  path,  or 
leap  upon  us  from  the  thicket,  but  we  have  notiung 
to  do  with  hunting  him.  He  that  meeteih  with 
him,  even  though  he  winneth  the  clay,  will  find  it  a 
stern  struggle.  Let  the  Christian  pray  that  he  may 
be  spared  the  encounter.  Our  Saviour,  who  had 
expeiience  of  what  temptation  meant,  thus  earnestly 
admonished  His  di-ciples, — "Pray  that  ye  enter 
not  into  temptation."  But  let  us  do  as  we  will,  we 
shall  be  tempted;  hence  the  prayer,  "Deliver  us 
from  evil."  — Spitrgeon. 

3.  Because  we  are  unable  to  resist  it. 

(4709.)  Tliy  grace  is  weak: — It  concerns  thee, 
so  nuicli  the  moie,  to  be  cautious  in  avoiding 
occasions  of  temjjtation.  He  that  carries  brittle 
glasses  is  chary  of  them,  that  they  take  not  a  knock  ; 
whereas,  strong  metal  fears  no  danger.  He  that 
hath  but  a  small  rush-candle  walks  softly,  and 
keeps  off  every  air.  — Hall,  1 574-1656. 

(4710.)  If  we  mean  not  to  be  burnt,  let  us  not 
walk  upon  the  coals  of  temptation  ;  if  not  to  be 
tanned,  let  us  not  stand  where  the  sun  lies.  They 
«urp  lorget  wha'    aj    in'Nnuating  wriggling   nature 


this  serpent  hath,  that  dare  yield  to  him  in  some- 
thing, and  make  us  believe  they  will  not  in  another. 
Who  will  sit  in  the  company  of  drunkards,  frequent 
the  places  where  sin  is  committed,  and  yet  pretend 
they  mean  not  to  be  such  ?  That  will  prostitute 
their  eye  to  unchaste  objects,  and  yet  be  chaste? 
'I'hat  will  lend  their  ears  to  any  corrupt  doctrine  of 
the  times,  and  yet  be  found  in  the  faith?  This  is 
a  strong  delusion  that  such  are  under.  If  a  man 
hath  not  power  enough  to  resist  Satan  in  the  less, 
what  reason  hath  he  to  think  he  shall  in  the  greater? 
Thou  hast  not  grace  (it  seems)  to  keep  thee  from 
throwing  thyself  into  the  whirl  of  temptation,  and 
dost  thou  think,  when  in  it,  thou  shalt  bear  up 
against  the  stream  of  it?  One  would  think  it  is 
easier,  when  in  the  ship,  to  keep  from  falling  over- 
board, than  when  in  the  sea,  to  get  safely  into  the 
ship  again.  — Giirnall,  161 7-1679. 

(471 1.)  The  soul,  tested  by  temptation,  is  like 
iron  tried  by  weights.  No  iron  bar  is  absolutely 
infrangible.  Its  strength  is  tested  by  the  weiglit 
which  it  will  bear  without  breaking.  No  soul  is 
absolutely  impeccable.  It  seems  as  if  all  we  can 
dare  to  a.sk  even  of  the  holiest  is  how  much  tempta* 
lion  he  can  bear  without  giving  way. 

— Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(4712.)  In  Eden,  our  first  parents  and  the 
tempter  were  not  unequally  matched.  Belonging 
to  a  superior  race  of  intelligent  beings,  he  had  more 
mental,  but  they,  on  the  other  hand,  being  still 
innocent,  were  superior  to  him  in  moral  power. 
Thus  Eve,  like  one  who,  though  he  brings  less 
strength,  brings  better  weapons  to  the  field  of 
battle  than  his  enemy,  might  be  considered  as  a 
fair  match  for  the  devil.  Vice  cannot  look  virtue 
in  the  face,  any  more  than  an  owl  can  the  sun  ; 
and  innocence  still,  imperfect  though  it  be,  seems 
to  possess  such  power  over  guilt  as  the  eye  of  a 
man  has  over  a  lion, — the  savage  beast  quails 
before  his  fixed  and  steady  look.  Clad  in  this 
panoply  of  heavenly  armour,  it  was  Eve's  own  fault 
that  the  simplicity  of  the  dove  did  not  prove  more 
than  a  matcii  for  the  cunning  of  the  serpent.  But 
it  did  not  ;  and  you  know  the  result. 

And  what  chance  for  us  where  our  first  parents 
perished  ?  huw  can  guilt  stand  where  innocence  fell? 
How  can  poor,  fallen  creatures,  such  as  we  are, 
expect  to  conquer  an  enemy  who  has  won  his  ac- 
cursed victories  in  heaven  as  well  as  on  earth,  and 
triumphed  over  the  innocence  both  of  angels  and 
of  men  !  Summoned  to  a  holy  war,  we  are  called 
to  fight  the  good  fight,  and  to  resist  the  devil ; 
but  is  it  not  with  us  as  if  I  were  to  raise  a 
sick  man  from  his  bed,  and,  when  the  earth  was 
spinning  round  to  his  dizzy  eyes,  bid  him  fight 
an  enemy  that  had  conquered  him  when  health 
bloomed  on  his  pallid  cheek,  and  strength  lay  in 
the  arm  that  hangs  powerless  by  his  side  ?  What 
chance  have  infants  against  the  lion  that,  with 
bristling  mane,  lashing  tail,  and  flashing  eyes, 
stands  with  his  paw  on  the  bleeding  body  of  their 
mother?  When  traitors  swarm  in  her  streets,  what 
hope  has  a  city  to  resist  the  foe  that  in  loyal  days 
scaled,  and  breached,  and  carried  its  walls?  We 
have  been  reduced  to  slavery  ;  and  did  bondsmen 
ever  win  where  freemen  lost  ?  Hope  there  is  none 
for  us  out  of  Christ.  Our  only  hope  is  David's 
(i  Sam.  xvii.  45).  — Guthrie. 

3D 


TEMPTATION. 


(    786    ) 


TEMPTATION. 


(4713.)  If,  in  eai/y  life,  when  sin  was  compara- 
lively  weak  and  conscience  was  comparatively 
strong,  we  were  so  easily  and  so  often  overcome 
by  temptation,  what  hope  for  us,  when  this  order 
is  reversed  ;  wlieu  conscience  has  become  weak, 
and  sin  grown  strong  ?  If  we  were  no  match  for 
the  cub,  how  shall  we  conquer  the  grown  lion? 
If  we  had  not  strength  to  pull  out  the  sapling,  how 
are  we  to  root  up  the  tiee?  If  it  exceeded  our 
utmost  power  to  turn  tiie  stream  near  its  mountain 
cradle,  liow  shall  we  turn  the  river  that,  red,  roar- 
ing, swollen,  pours  its  flood  on  to  the  sea?  If  we 
could  not  arrest  the  stone  on  the  brow  of  tlie  hill, 
how  shall  we  stop  it  when,  gatliering  speed  at  every 
turn,  and  force  at  every  bound,  it  rushes  into  the 
valley  with  resistless  might  ?  Sin  gaining  such 
power  by  time  and  habit,  "  If  we  have  run  with 
the  footmen  and  they  have  wearied  us,  how  shall 
we  coiitentl  witii  horses?"  Spirit  of  God  !  but  for 
Thy  gracious  aids  the  attempt  were  hopeless. 

—  Guthrie. 

(4714.)  The  heart  is  deceitful  in  regard  to  its 
powers  of  resisting  temptation.  In  the  lialcyon 
days  of  youth  and  inexperience  we  think  that  we 
are  prool  against  all  the  forms  of  allurement,  and 
we  libten  with  no  pleasurable  emotions  to  those 
who  would  warn  us  of  danger.  Experience  and 
aged  wisdom  find  it  not  easy  to  get  and  retain  the 
ear  of  the  young,  while  they  portray  the  dangers  of 
the  youthful  course,  and  warn  agamst  the  alluring 
customs  of  the  world.  And  the  reason  is  plain. 
Those  whom  we  would  admonish  have  had  no  ex- 
perience ;  and  they  suspect  no  danger.  They  con- 
tide  in  their  own  ])o\vers  ;  they  see  before  them  a 
smooth  ocean  on  which  they  expect  to  glide  without 
danger.  A  gallant  ship,  with  her  sails  all  set, 
leaves  the  port.  She  is  new,  and  her  virgin  sails 
have  not  before  been  fanned  by  the  breeze.  The 
gale  springs  up  and  gently  swells  all  her  canvas.  Be- 
lore  her  is  ihe  vast  ocean — spread  out  as  if  to  invite 
her.  On  her  deck  stands  the  young  mariner  fresh 
from  his  home,  buoyant  with  hope,  his  glad  eye 
looking  out  on  the  new  scene  as  the  ship  dances 
from  wave  to  wave,  and  his  heart  beats  vith  joy. 
How  chilling  now,  how  cold,  how  incongruous  is  it, 
for  the  weather-beaten  seaman — the  man  of  many 
voyages — to  come  and  tell  of  rocks,  and  quicksands, 
and  whirlpools,  and  furious  tempests  !  How  incon- 
gruous to  sugyest  that  the  seams  may  open,  or  the 
canvas  be  torn  to  ribbons,  or  that  some  unseen  cur- 
rent may  drift  that  beautiful  vessel  into  unknown 
seas,  where  she  may  lie  becalmed, 

"  Day  after  day,  day  after  day, 
With  neither  breath  nor  motion. 
As  iille  as  a  painted  ship 
Upon  a  painted  ocean  !" 

So  we  start  on  the  voyage  of  life.  We  flatter  our- 
selves that  we  are  able  to  meet  temptation.  We 
confide  in  the  strength  of  our  principles.  We  trust 
to  the  sincerity  ol  our  own  hearts.  Guileless  our- 
selves—  1  do  not  mean  guileless  in  the  sense  that  we 
have  no  propensities  to  evil,  but  guileless  in  the 
sense  of  sincere  and  confiiling — we  suspect  no 
fraud  in  others.  Suspicion  is  not  the  characteristic 
of  youth.  It  is  the  unhappy  work  of  experience  ; 
the  influence  that  comes  into  our  hearts,  notwith- 
standing all  our  efforts  to  resist  it,  from  long 
acquaintance  with  the  insincerity  of  mankind.  The 
world    Hatters    us,     and    a    thousand    temptations, 


adapted  with  consummate  skill  to  the  young,  allure 
us.  Professed  friends  meet  us  on  the  way  and 
assure  us  that  there  is  no  danger.  The  gay,  the 
fashionable,  the  rich,  the  winning,  the  beautiful, 
the  accomplished,  invite  us  to  tread  with  them  the 
path  of  pleasure,  and  to  doubt  the  suggestion  of 
experience  and  of  age.  We  feel  confident  of  our 
own  safety.  We  suppose  we  may  tread  securely  a 
little  farther.  We  see  no  danger  near.  We  take 
another  step  still,  and  yet  another,  thinking  that  we 
are  safe  yet.  We  have  tried  our  virtuous  princijjles, 
and  thus  far  they  bear  the  trial.  We  could  retreat 
if  we  would  ;  we  mean  to  retreat  the  moment  that 
danger  comes  near.  But  who  knows  the  power  of 
temptation?  Who  knows  when  dangers  shall  rush 
upon  us  so  that  we  cannot  escape?  There  is  a 
dividing  line  between  safety  and  danger.  Above 
thundering  Niagara  the  river  spreads  out  into  a 
broad  and  tranquil  basin.  All  is  calm  and  the  cur- 
rent flows  gently  on,  and  there  even  a  light  skiff 
may  be  guided  in  safety.  You  may  glide  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  rapids,  admiring  the  beauty  of  the 
shore,  and  looking  on  the  ascending  spray  of  the 
cataract,  and  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  distant 
waters,  and  be  happy  in  the  consciousness  that  you 
are  safe.  You  may  go  a  little  further,  and  may 
have  power  still  to  ply  the  oar  to  reach  the  bank. 
But  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  human  power  is 
vain,  and  where  the  mighty  waters  shall  seize  the 
quivering  bark,  and  bear  it  on  to  swift  destruction. 
So  perishes  many  a  young  man  by  the  power  of 
temptation.  — Barnes,  1798-1870. 

4.  Because  to  expose  ourselves  to  it  is  to  tempt 
God  to  leave  us. 

(4715.)  Thou  temptest  God  to  suffer  thy  locks  to 
be  cut,  when  thou  art  so  bold  to  lay  thy  head  ia 
the  lap  of  a  temptation.     — Gtiruall,  1617-1679. 

5.  Because  prevention  is  better  than  cure. 
(4716.)     He    is    a    better   physician    that    keeps 

diseases  off  us,  than  he  that  cures  them  being  on 
us.  Prevention  is  so  much  better  than  healing, 
because  it  saves  the  labour  of  being  sick.  Thou 
allowest  not  a  surgeon  unnecessarily  to  break  thy 
head  to  try  his  skill  and  the  virtue  of  his  plaster. 

— Adams,  1653. 

6.  Because  if  -we  erpose  ourselves  to  it,  and  are 
overcome  by  it,  we  are  left  without  excuse. 

(47:7.)  Christ  has  taught  us  to  pray,  "Lead  us 
not  into  temptation."  It  is  a  folly  for  us  to  cast 
ourselves  upon  it  ;  we  draw  hatred  upon  ourselves, 
and  run  headlong  into  dangers  without  necessity  ; 
we  must  make  ourselves  amends  by  repentance, 
otherwise  God  will  not.  If  a  man  set  his  house  on 
fire,  he  i^  liable  to  the  laws  ;  if  it  be  tired  by  others, 
or  by  an  ill  accident,  he  is  pitied  and  relieved. 

— Manton,  1620-1667. 

V.  THINGS  THAT  EXPOSE  US  TO  TEUP" 
TA  TION. 

1.  Idleness. 

(4718.)  Notice  the  invetition  used  by  country 
people  to  catch  wasps.  They  will  put  a  little  sweet 
liquor  into  a  long  and  narrow-necked  phial.  The 
do-nothing  wasp  comes  by,  smells  the  sweet  liquor, 
plunges  in  and  is  drowned.  But  the  bee  comes  by, 
and  it  she  does  stop  for  a  moment  to  smell,  yet  she 
enters  not,   because  she  has  honey  of   her  own  to 


TEMPTATION. 


(     787     ) 


TEMPTATION. 


make  ;  she  is  too  busy  in  the  work  of  the  common- 
wealth  to  indulge  herself  with  the  tempting  sweets. 
Master  Greenhani,  a  Puritan  divine,  was  once  waited 
upon  by  a  woman  who  was  greatly  temptefl.  Upon 
making  inquiries  into  her  way  of  life,  he  found  she 
had  little  to  do,  and  Greenhnm  saiil,  "That  is  the 
secret  of  your  being  so  much  tempted.  Sister,  if 
you  are  very  busy,  Satan  may  tempt  you,  but  he 
will  not  easily  prevail,  and  he  will  soon  give  up  the 
attempt."  Idle  Christians  are  not  tempted  ol  the 
devil  so  much  as  they  tempt  the  devil  to  tempt 
them.  — Spurgeon. 

2.  Self-confidence. 

(4719.)  Many  horses  fall  at  the  bottom  of  a  hill 
because  the  driver  thinks  the  danger  past  and  the 
need  to  hold  the  reins  witli  fnm  grip  less  pressing. 
So  it  is  often  with  us  when  we  are  not  specially 
tempted  to  overt  sin,  we  are  the  more  in  danger 
through  slothfid  ease.  I  think  it  was  Ralph  Er^kine 
who  said,  "  There  is  no  devil  so  had  as  no  devd.' 
The  worst  temptation  that  ever  overtakes  us,  is,  in 
some  respects,  preferable  to  our  becoming  carnally 
secure  and  neglecting  to  watch  and  pray. 

"  More  the  treacherous  calm  I  dread 
Tlian  tempests  rolling  overhead." 

— Sturgeon. 

VI.    SMALL   TEMPTATIONS. 

1.  Most  numerous. 

(4720.)  As  great  temptations  exceed  in  quality,  so 
th.e  lesser  exceed  in  quantity,  for  which  reason  the 
victory  over  tiiem  may  be  comparable  to  that  over 
the  greatest.  Wolves  and  bears  are  without  doulit 
more  dangerous  than  flies,  yet  the  former  neither 
give  us  so  much  trouble,  nor  exercise  our  patience 
so  much  as  the  latter.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to  abstain 
from  murder,  but  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  restrain 
all  the  little  sallies  of  passion,  the  occasions  whereof 
aie  every  moment  presenting  themselves. 

— Francis  de  Sales. 

2.  Are  most  dangerous. 

(4721.)  As  when  Pompey  could  not  prevail  with 
a  city  to  billet  his  army  with  them,  he  yet  persuaded 
them  to  admit  a  few  weak,  maimed  soldiers,  but 
those  soon  recovered  their  strengili,  antl  openetl  the 
gates  to  the  whole  army.  And  thus  it  is  that  ihe 
devil  courts  us  only  to  lodge  some  small  sins,  a  sin 
of  infirmity  or  two,  which  being  admitted,  they  soon 
gather  strength  and  sinews,  and  so  subdue  us. 
How  many  have  set  up  a  trade  in  swearing  with 
common  interlocutory  oaths,  as  "  Faitli "  an.i 
"Troth"?  How  many  have  begun  thieving  with 
pins  and  pence?  How  many  drunkenness  with  one 
cup  more  than  enough?  How  many  lusts  with  a 
glance  of  the  eye?  And  yei  none  of  them  ever 
dreamt  they  should  be  prostituted  to  those  prodi- 
gious extremities  they  alierwards  found  themselves 
almost  irrecoverably  engulfed  in.     — Price,  1646. 

(4722.)  The  giving  way  to  a  small  sin  does 
marvellously  prepare  and  dispose  a  man  for  a 
grenier;  i)y  giving  way  to  one  little  vice  after 
anoiher,  the  str«»ngest  resolutions  may  be  broken. 
For  though  it  be  not  to  be  snappcil  m  sunder  at 
onct;,  yet  l)y  this  means  it  is  untwisted  by  degiees, 
and  then  it  is  easy  to  break  it  one  threaii  alter 
another.  — Tillotson,  1630-1694. 

(4723.)  There  is  no  such  thing  as  being  wicked 
to  a  measure,   or  playing   the  knave   tu  a  certain 


degree,  and  no  further.  This  being  (as  the  comediaa 
says)  ^''  dare  opera7n,  ut  cum  ratione  insamas." 

And  therefore  he  who  ventures  upon  any  unlaw- 
ful or  suspicious  practice,  or  sup|)osed  advantage,  on 
such  terms,  is  like  a  man  w  ho  goes  into  the  water  for 
his  pleasure  of  refreshment  :  his  design  (to  be  sure) 
is  to  divert,  not  to  destroy  hiinselt,  and  accordingly 
with  great  caution  he  enters  in  step  by  step  ;  but 
the  rapid  stream  presently  draws  him  in,  carries  him 
away,  and  hurries  him  down  violently,  and  so  the 
poor  man,  with  all  his  heart  and  caution,  is 
drowned.  He  thought  to  have  been  too  wise  and 
skilful  for  the  stream,  but  the  stream  proved  too 
strong  for  him. 

1  n  the  concerns  of  the  soul,  as  well  as  of  the  body, 
it  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  a  man  to  venture  beyond 
his  depth.  — South,  1 633- 1716. 

(4724.)  The  temptation  is,  to  a  religious  or  re- 
spectable man,  the  most  dangerous  which  solicits 
him  to  the  doing  of  some  little  thing.  Dr.  A. 
Clarke  had  a  very  attentive  hearer,  who  was  often 
much  affect etl  by  the  Word,  but  who  never  found 
peace  in  believing.  At  last  he  turned  ill,  and  after 
many  interviews  Dr.  Clarke  said,  "Sir,  it  is  not 
often  that  God  deals  thus  with  a  soul  so  deeply 
humbled  as  yours,  and  so  earnestly  seeking  redemp- 
tion through  the  blood  of  His  Son.  There  must 
be  a  cause  for  this."  The  gentleman  raised  him- 
sell  in  bed,  and  fixiiig  his  eyes  on  the  minister,  told 
how,  years  ago,  taking  his  voyage  to  England,  he 
saw  some  merchants  of  the  place  give  the  captain 
a  bag  of  dollars  to  carry  to  a  correspondent.  He 
maiked  the  captain's  carelessness  in  leaving  it  roll- 
ing on  the  locker  day  after  day,  and  for  the  purpose 
of  frightening  hiin,  he  hid  it.  No  inquiry  was 
made,  and  on  arriving  at  their  destination,  the 
merchant  still  retained  it,  till  it  should  be  missed. 
At  last  the  parties  to  whom  it  was  consigned  in- 
quired for  it,  and  an  angry  correspondence  com- 
menced ;  hearing  of  which  the  gentleman  got 
frightened,  ami  resolved  to  keep  his  secret.  The 
captain  was  thrown  into  prison,  and  died.  "  Guilt," 
added  the  dying  man,  "had  by  this  time  hardened 
my  mind.  I  strove  to  be  happy  by  stilling  my 
conscience  with  the  cares  and  amusements  of  the 
world — but  in  vain.  I  at  last  heard  you  preach  ; 
and  then  it  was  that  the  voice  of  God  broke  in  on 
my  conscience,  and  reasoned  with  me  oi  righteous- 
ness and  of  juiigment  to  come.  Hell  got  hohl  upon 
my  spirit  ;  1  have  prayed,  1  have  deplored,  I  have 
agonised  at  the  throne  of  mercy,  for  the  sake  of 
Christ,  for  pardon;  but  God  is  deaf  to  prayer,  and 
casts  out  my  petition  ;  there  is  no  mercy  for  me  ;  I 
must  go  down  into  the  grave  unpardoned,  unsaved." 
The  captain's  widow  was  si  ill  alive,  and  to  her 
and  her  children  Dr.  Claike  was  the  medium 
of  l>aying  over  the  sum,  with  compound  interest, 
obtaining  an  acknowledgment  which  he  kept  till  his 
dying  day  ;  and  soon  alter,  the  con.->cience->trickeij 
penitent  died  in  peace,  having  obtained  the  hope 
of  pardon.  Lut  the  incident  illustrates  the  subtlety 
of  Satan.  The  man  was  respectable,  and  had  it 
been  put  to  him,  "Are  you  capable  of  stealing? 
Do  you  think  you  could  commit  a  murder?  Are 
you  one  that  could  allow  an  innocent  man  to  lan- 
guish in  prison  for  your  crime,  and  go  down  to  the 
grave  covered  with  infamy,  for  a  lault  which,  not 
he,  but  you  committed?"  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog?" 
would  have  been  the  indignant  reply  to  the  revolt- 
ing suggestion.      But  lor  the  fiue-gramed  liiuber, 


TEMPTATION. 


(    788    ) 


TEMPTATION. 


for  oaks  and  cedars,  the  devil  has  sharp  wedges,  as 
well  as  coarser  instruments  for  ignolile  natures  ; 
and  hire  the  edge  was  very  fine  ;  a  trick — a  practi- 
cal jest — a  frolic — but  a  frolic  which,  like  many 
fools'  firebands,  ended  in  a  sad  conflagration  ;  in 
thelt  ami  murder,  in  orphanage  and  widowhood,  in 
the  ruin  of  a  reputation,  and  in  the  misery  and 
remorse  of  the  perpetrator. 

— Hamilton,  1814-1867. 

(4725.)  If  the  devil  comes  to  my  door  with  his 
horns  visible,  I  will  never  let  him  in  ;  but  if  he 
comes  with  his  hat  on  as  a  respectable  gentleman, 
lie  is  at  once  admitted.  'l"he  metaphor  may  be 
very  quaint,  but  it  is  quite  true.  Many  a  man  has 
taken  in  an  evil  thing  because  it  has  been  varnished 
and  glossed  over,  and  not  ap]iarently  an  evil,  and 
he  has  thought  in  his  heart  there  is  not  much  harm 
in  it;  so  he  has  let  in  the  little  thing,  and  it  has 
been  like  the  breaking  fortii  of  water, — the  first 
drop  has  bioughl  alter  it  a  torrent.  The  beginning 
has  been  but  the  beginning  of  a  (earful  end. 

— Spurgeon. 

3.  Are  aufiacient  to  overthrow  most  of  us. 

(4726.)  There  be  some  that  will  say  they  were 
never  tempted  with  kingdoms.  It  may  well  be, 
for  it  needs  not  when  less  will  serve.  It  was 
Christ  only  who  was  thus  tempted  ;  in  Him  lay 
an  heroical  mind  that  could  not  be  allured  with 
small  matters.  But  with  us  it  is  nothing  so,  for  we 
esteem  lar  more  basely  of  ourselves.  We  set  our 
wares  at  a  very  easy  price  ;  he  may  buy  us  even 
dagger-cheap,  as  we  say.  He  need  never  carry  us 
so  high  as  the  mount.  The  pinnacle  is  high 
enough  ;  yea,  the  lowest  steeple  in  all  the  town 
would  serve  the  turn.  Or  let  him  but  carry  us  to 
the  leads  and  gutters  of  our  own  houses,  nay,  let  us 
but  stand  in  our  windows  or  our  doors,  if  he  will 
give  us  but  so  much  as  we  can  there  see,  he  will 
tempt  us  thoroughly  ;  we  will  accept  it  and  thank 
him  too.  He  shall  not  need  to  come  to  us  with 
kingdoms.  If  he  would  come  to  us  witii  thirty 
pieces,  I  am  afraid  many  of  us  would  play  Judas. 
Nay,  less  than  so  much  would  buy  a  great  sort,  even 
"  handluls  of  barley  and  pieces  of  bread  "  (Ezekiel 
xiii.  19).  \'ea,  some  will  not  stick  to  buy  and  sell 
the  poor  for  a  pair  ol  shoes,  as  Amos  si)eaketh,  ,  ,  . 
A  matter  of  half-a-crown,  or  ten  groats,  a  pair  of 
shoes,  or  some  such  trifle,  will  bring  us  on  our 
knees  to  the  devil.  — Sanderson,  15S7-1662, 

VIi;  ITS  R  EL  AT  JON  TO  MORAL  HESPONSI- 
BILITV. 

1,  It  is  no  excuse  for  sin. 

(4727.)  We  may  have  leaders  into  temptation, 
but  it  is  our  fault  if  we  follow  them.  Nay,  to  come 
closer  home,  do  not  we  tempt  ourselves?  Satan  is 
not  the  sole  cause  of  evil.  The  iowler  sets  his 
glass,  spreads  his  net,  whistles  like  the  bird  ;  yet 
cannot  all  this  iriake  the  fowl  come  into  his  net 
whether  she  will  or  no.  If  we  had  not  pliable  ears 
and  flexible  afi'ections,  the  syrens  might  sing  in 
»ain.  — Adams,  1653, 

(4728.)  There  is  a  secret  dispositioTi  in  the  heart 
of  all,  to  all  sin  ;  temptation  doth  not  fall  on  us  as 
a  ball  of  fire  on  ice  or  snow,  but  as  a  spark  on 
tinder,  or  lightning  on  a  thatched  roof,  which  pre- 
sently is  on  a  fl.ime.     Hence  in  Scripture,  though 


tempted  by  Satan,  yet  the  sin  is  charged  on  us, 
"  Every  man  is  tempted,  when  he  is  drawn  away  of 
his  own  lusts,  and  enticed."  iVIark  !  'tis  Satan 
tempts,  but  our  own  lust  draws  us.  The  fowler  lays 
the  shrap,  but  the  bird's  own  desire  betrays  it  into 
the  net.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4729.)  It  is  useless  for  the  sinner  to  allege  that 
he  is  swept  away  by  temptation  :  "  he  conceiveth 
mischief,  and  he  bringeth  foith  falsehood  ;"  and  if 
he  is  swept  away,  it  is  as  the  suicide  who  repairs 
to  the  liver,  stands  on  its  brink,  and,  leaping  in, 
is  swept  off  to  his  watery  giave.  — Guthrie, 

2.  Even  this  invalid  plea  of  "temptation"  is 
often  falsely  urged. 

(4730.)  While  I  do  not  deny  the  influence  and 
agency  of  evil  spirits,  I  believe  that  unquestionably 
Satan  is  charged  with  a  vast  deal  of  mischief  of 
whicii  he  knows  nothing,  and  has  need  to  know 
nothing.  Men  usually  exempt  from  the  agency  of 
Satan  those  who  probably  aje  the  chief  objects 
of  his  assaults  ;  and  they  charge  Satan  with  tempt- 
ing those  whom  he  never  would  squander  any  time 
upon.  If  a  man  is  a  notorious  drunkard,  and 
commits  a  crime,  it  is  said  that  the  devil  tempted 
him.  What  use  was  there  of  the  devil's  tempting 
him  ?  How  superfluous  is  temptation  under  such 
circumstances  !  When  a  man  is  bent,  by  the  whole 
stress  of  his  nature,  to  do  wickedly,  do  you  suppose 
that  Satan  will  take  the  trouble  to  work  upon  him? 
Time  is  loo  precious  on  his  hands.  Some  men  are 
monstrous  liars,  and  they  plead  that  Satan  tempts 
them  to  lie.  They  do  not  need  any  temptation 
to  lie.  If  the  wood  be  green,  we  use  the 
bellows  ;  but  if  the  wood  be  dry  and  inflammable, 
a  spark  ignites  it,  and  a  man  would  be  foolish 
indeed  that  should  use  a  bellows  to  blow  it  then. 
If  a  man  wants  to  sin,  and  has  the  habit  of  sinning, 
and  loves  sin,  and  will  sin,  and  will  not  be  hindered 
from  sinning,  do  not  say  that  the  devil  tempted 
him,  — Beecher. 

VIII.    HOW  IT  IS    TO    BE   RESISTED. 
1,  Promptly, 

(473 1.)  We  are  most  carefully  to  withstand  Satan's 
temptations  when  they  are  first  suggested,  and  to 
give  him  the  repulse  as  soon  as  we  perceive  that  he 
is  but  beginning  to  make  an  entrance. 

For  this  gliding  serpent,  if  he  can  but  thrust  in 
his  head,  will  easily  make  room  for  his  whole  body  : 
and  therefore  we  must  nip  and  bruise  him  in  the 
head,  and  use  his  temptations  like  the  serpent's 
brood,  which  if  men  desire  to  kill,  they  do  not 
tread  upon  their  tails,  for  so  they  would  turn  again 
and  sting  them,  but  upon  their  heads,  and  then  they 
have  no  power  to  iiurt  them.  So  we  are  not  fondly 
to  think  that  we  can  without  hurt  vanquish  Satan's 
temptations  in  the  end  if  we  have  long  entertained 
them  :  for  unless  they  be  nipped  in  the  head,  and 
withstood  in  the  beginning,  they  will  mortally 
poison  us  with  the  sting  of  sin. 

P'or  as  thieves  coming  to  break  into  a  house,  if 
they  can  but  find  room  for  the  point  of  their  wrench 
to  enter,  will  easily  by  turning  and  winding  about 
the  vice  make  the  doors,  though  very  strong,  fly 
open  and  give  them  entrance  ;  so  if  this  cunning 
thief  Satan  can  find  any  entrance  for  hi^  first  temjita- 
tions,  so  as  we  can  be  content  to  think  upon  them, 
and  revolve   them   in    our  minds  with  any  liking, 


TEMPTATION. 


(     789     ) 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


he  will  easily  burst  open  the  gates  of  our  souls,  and 
entering  further  will  rob  us  of  all  God's  graces. 
Let  us  therefore  "give  no  place  to  the  devil." 

As  wise  citizens,  being  besieged,  do  not  let  their 
enemies  scale  the  walls  and  enter  the  town,  with  a 
purpose  then  to  repel  and  beat  them  back  again  ; 
but  they  withstand  them  as  soon  as  they  give  the 
first  assault,  and  keep  them,  if  they  can,  from 
approaching  near  their  walls  with  sconces  and 
bulwarks  ;  so  we  are  not  to  suffer  Satan  our  enemy, 
and  the  troops  of  his  temptations  to  enter  into  our 
hearts,  but  to  give  them  the  repulse  at  their  first 
apiMoaching,  lest  it  be  too  late  afterwards  when 
they  have  su  prised  and  wounded  us  with  sin. 

— Doivnaiiie,  1642. 

(4732.)  As  often  as  a  man  finds  his  corruption 
renewing  its  assaults,  let  liim  set  upon  it  with  a 
renewed  opposition.  As  soon  as  that  stirs  let  him 
stiike,  at  no  hand  suffering  it  to  get  ground  of  him  ; 
for  every  motion  of  it  not  resisted  gives  it  an 
advance.  And  we  know  that,  after  it  has  made 
some  progress,  it  is  then  harder  to  be  subdued  than 
at  tlie  first  repulsed.  When  an  enemy  is  but  rising, 
it  is  easy  to  knock  him  to  the  ground  again,  but 
when  he  is  up,  and  stands  upon  his  legs,  he  is  not 
then  so  easily  thrown  down.  It  is  less  difficult  to 
hinder  and  prevent,  than  to  stop  and  restrain,  the 
course  of  sin.  — South,  1633-1716. 

{4733.)  Stand  in  awe,  dear  brethren,  of  many 
things,  but  of  nothing  stand  more  in  awe  than 
of  your  own  selves,  and  of  the  dread  potentialities 
of  evil  no  less  than  of  good  whicli  you  bear  about 
with  you.  Believe  me,  there  is  no  smallest  spark 
from  Satan's  stithy,  which  if  duly  fanned,  or  even 
if  left  unquenched  and  not  trodden  out,  might  nut 
increase  into  a  flame,  which  should  set  on  fire  in 
you  the  whole  course  of  natuie;  even  as  in  this 
mateiial  world  there  is  in  each  tiniest  spark  a  pos- 
sible conflagration,  such  as  should  wrap  whole 
forests  or  cities  in  a  flame.  Resist  evil  at  tlie 
beginning.  Then  it  is  weak  and  you  are  strong  ; 
but  after  a  little  allowance  the  conditions  will  be 
reversed,  and  you  will  be  weak  and  it  strong. 
Blessed  is  he  who  taketh  these  little  ones  of  Babylon, 
and  dasheth  them  aL;ainst  the  stones  of  God's  law. 
Stand  in  awe,  1  would  say  again,  of  your  own  selves. 
He  knows  very  little  ol  himself  who  dues  not  know 
that,  as  tliere  is  a  possible  heaven,  so  there  is  a 
possible  hell  within  him.  In  the  passing  thought 
of  impurity  there  is  that  which,  being  admitted, 
indulged,  cherished,  followed  iij)  whither  it  seeks  to 
lead,  would  mould  us  at  last  into  the  hideous  like- 
ness of  a  Tiberius  or  a  Louis  XV.  In  the  smallest 
act,  word,  or  thought  of  genuine  malice,  there  is 
shut  up  a  whole  world  of  cruelty,  of  intensest 
delight  in  the  suffering  of  others,  such  as  a  Domi- 
tian  or  an  Eccebno  never  surpassed. 

—  Trench, 

(4734.)  That  memorable  fire  which  two  centuries 
ago  la;d  nearly  one-halt  of  tiiis  city  in  ashes,  which 
defied  for  days  and  days  the  efforts  of  thousands  of 
men,  there  was  no  doubt  a  moment  when  a  pitcher 
of  water  in  the  hantls  of  a  little  child  might  have 
quenched  it.  So,  too,  the  sin  which  has  now  grown 
to  such  a  fearlul  mnstery  of  a  man  that  it  is  the 
tyrant  of  his  life  ;  it  was  once  but  a  wandering 
temptation,  a  vague  floating  suggestion  to  evil, 
against  which  if  he  had  resolutely  shu'.  Ihe  door  of 


his  heart  when  it  first   presented  itself  for  admis« 
sion,  he  might  perhaps  never  have  heard  of  it  again. 

—  Trench. 

(4735.)  An  enemy  who  desired  to  destroy  you  by 
your  own  deed,  would  not  lead  yuu  straight  to  a 
yawning  precipice,  and  bid  you  cast  yourself  down. 
He  would  rather  lead  you  along  a  flowery  winding 
path,  until  you  should  insensibly  be  drawn  into  a 
spot  which  would  give  way  beneath  you.  Entice- 
ments to  moral  evil  will  generally  take  that  form. 
You  will  not  be  persuaded  all  at  once  to  plunge 
into  deeds  of  darkness,  knowing  them  to  be  such. 
Few  young  men  who  have  enjoyed  a  religious  edu- 
cation come  to  a  sudden  stand,  and  at  once  turn 
their  back  upon  God  and  godliness.  Most  of  those 
who  do  fall,  diverge  at  first  by  imperceptible 
degrees  from  the  path  of  righteousness.  Wlien  it  is 
intended,  by  a  line  of  rails,  to  conduct  a  train  off 
the  main  truid<,  and  turn  it  aside  in  another  direc- 
tion, the  branch  line  at  first  runs  parallel  with  the 
trunk.  It  goes  alongside  lor  a  space  in  the  same 
direction  ;  but  when  it  has  thus  got  fairly  off,  then 
it  turns  more  rapidly  round,  and  bounds  away  af 
right  angles  to  its  former  course.  As  engineers 
avoid  the  physical,  so  the  tempters  avoid  the  moral 
difficulty.  An  abrupt  turn  is  not  attempted  in  either 
case.  The  object  is  far  more  surely  attained  by  a 
gently  graduated  diveigence.  The  importance  of 
the  ancient  rule,  Obsia  prtncipiis  (resist  the  begin- 
nings), can  never  be  overrated.  — Arnot. 

(4736.)  Temptation  is  resistible  at  one  time  ;  it 
is  alrhost  irresistible  at  another.  Temptation  when 
it  first  begins  to  act  upon  us  may  be  overcome, 
I  think,  I  may  say,  may  be  easily  overcome.  And 
he  who,  when  an  evil  des're  rises  within  him,  flies 
at  once  to  the  throne  of  grace,  who  cries  out  to 
God  to  help  him,  will  see  his  temptation  fading 
away.  But  when  we  yield  to  the  temptation,  which 
so  easily  we  might  have  resisted  at  fiist,  then  it 
gathers  strength,  and  with  each  new  indulgence  its 
demands  are  more  imperious,  its  fascinations  more 
seductive,  and  its  thrall  more  complete  ;  until  a 
day  comes  when  a  man  wakens  up  to  a  new  inten- 
tion, and  finds  that  his  jiower  is  gone,  that  he  can- 
not galvanise  into  vigour  a  long  unused  moral 
organ,  that  he  sees  his  danger,  that  he  sees  the 
quick-coming  ruin,  but  it  is  too  late — he  must,  he 
must ;  and  like  a  wave  that  lilts  itself  wildly  over  a 
foundering  ship,  so  does  temptation  triumph. 

W.  Fase-Roberts. 

2.  Unhesitatingly. 

(4737.)  The  whole  of  this  probation  for  the  future 
often  depends  on  some  single  action  that  shall  deter- 
mine the  character,  and  that  shall  send  an  influence 
ever  onwaid.  Everything  seems  to  be  concentrated 
on  a  single  point.  A  right  or  a  wrong  decision  then 
settles  everything.  The  moment  when  in  the  battle 
at  Waterloo  the  Duke  of  Wellington  could  say, 
"This  will  do,"  decided  the  fate  of  the  battle  and 
of  kingdoms.  A  wrong  movement  just  at  that  point 
might  have  changed  the  conditions  of  the  world  for 
centuries.  In  every  man's  life  there  are  such  periods; 
and  probably  in  the  lives  of  most  men  their  future 
course  is  more  certainly  determined  by  one  such  far- 
reaching  and  central  decision,  than  by  many  actions 
in  other  circumstances.  They  are  those  moments 
when  honour,  wealth, usefulness, health, and  salvation 
seem  all  to  depend  on  a  single  resolution.  It  seemi 
to  be  a  small  matter  for  a  young  man  io  deliberate 


TEMPTATION. 


(     790    ) 


TEMPTATION. 


whether  lie  shall  or  shall  not  partake  of  a  social 
glass  of  intoxicating  drink  with  a  friend  ;  and  yet 
on  the  result  of  such  a  deliberation  has  depended 
the  whole  career  of  many  a  man.  So  it  may  seem 
a  small  matter  for  him  to  visit  a  ganibling-n)oni,  or 
a  theatre  once  ;  or  to  form  a  friendship  with  some 
■well-introduced  and  genteel  looking  stranger  ;  and 
yet  the  whole  of  his  future  (iestiny  may  depend  on 
the  decision  of  that  moment.  The  reason  is  this  : 
it  is  the  crisis  of  the  life.  It  settles  a  princiiile. 
It  determines  whether  he  will  listen  to  tlie  voice  of 
reason  and  conscience  ;  to  i5arent;d  counsel  and  to 
God,  or  whether  he  is  to  be  under  the  control  of 
passion  and  apjietite.  Everything  is  concentrated 
on  that  point — liUe  one  of  Napoleon's  movements 
at  the  bridge  of  Lodi,  or  at  Austerlitz.  If  that  one 
point  is  carried,  the  whole  field  may  soon  be  won. 
In  the  decision  which  a  young  man  often  makes 
at  that  point,  there  is  such  a  breach  made  on  his 
virtuous  principles ;  there  is  such  an  array  of 
temptations  pouring  into  the  breach — like  an  army 
pouring  into  a  ciiy  where  a  breach  is  mnde  in  a 
wall — that  hence'^orward  there  is  almost  no  resist- 
ance, and  the  citadel  is  taken.  Of  all  those  who 
have  become  the  victims  of  intemperance,  it  would 
be  found,  probably,  that  the  mischief  was  done  at 
some  such  decisive  moment  in  their  lives  ;  and  of 
those  who  have  lived  honoured  and  useful  lives,  it 
might  also  be  found  that  their  whole  career  was 
determined  by  some  single  act  of  decided  resistance 
to  temptation.  — Barnes,  1798-1870. 

(4738.)  Decision  of  character  and  promptitude  of 
action,  qualities  so  important  on  board  ship  in  a 
storm,  in  the  manoeuvring  of  troops  in  battle,  are 
indispensable  to  the  Christian  lile — both  to  our 
getting  throu'jh  the  "strait  gate,"  and  our  getting 
on  in  the  "  narrow  way."  How  often,  for  example, 
does  it  happen  that  to  hesitate  even  for  one  moment 
between  resisting  and  yielding  to  temptation  is  to 
fall  I  The  battle  is  lost  in  that  moment  of  vacilla- 
tion. In  such  cases,  our  safety  lies  in  coming  to 
an  immediate  decision;  in  promptly  resolving  to 
dally  with  the  tempter  not  an  instant,  to  flee  if  we 
can,  and  if  we  cannot  flee  to  fight — so  resisting  the 
devil  that  if  we  cannot  flee  from  him,  he  shall  flee 
from  us,  and  leave  us,  as  when  he  spread  out  his 
wings  and,  vanquished  at  all  points,  relieved  our 
Lord  of  his  hateful  presence.  — Guthrie. 

3,  Uncompromisingly. 

(4739.)  As  he  that  casts  himself  from  a  steeple 
does  not  break  his  neck  till  he  touch  the  ground, 
but  yet  he  is  truly  said  to  have  killed  himself  when 
he  threw  himself  towards  the  ground  ;  so  in  those 
preparations  and  invitations  to  sin  we  perish, 
belore  we  perish,  before  we  commit  the  act,  the 
sin  itself, — we  perished  then,  when  we  opened 
ourselves  to  the  danger  of  the  sin. 

—Donne,  1573-1631. 

(4740.)  The  trees  of  the  forest  held  a  solemn 
parliament,  wherein  they  consulted  of  the  innu- 
merable wrongs  which  the  axe  had  done  them  ; 
they  therefore  made  an  act  that  no  tree  siiould 
hereafter  lend  the  axe  an  helve,  on  pain  of 
being  cut  down.  The  axe  travels  up  and  down 
the  forest,  begs  wood  of  the  cedar,  oak,  ash,  elm, 
even  of  the  jtoplar  ;  not  one  would  lend  him  a  chip. 
At  last  he  desired  so  much  as  would  serve  him  to 
cut  down  the  briers  and  bushes,  alleging  that  such 


shrubs  as  they  did  but  suck  away  the  juice  of  th« 
ground  and  hinder  the  growth  and  obscure  the  glory 
of  the  fair  a. id  goodly  trees.  Hereon  they  were  all 
content  to  afford  him  so  much  ;  he  pretends  a 
thorough  reformation,  but  behold  a  sad  deforma- 
tion ;  for  when  he  had  got  his  helve,  down  went 
cedar,  oak,  ash,  elm,  and  all  that  did  but  stand  in 
his  way.  Such  are  the  subtle  reaches  of  sin  and 
sinful  men.  Give  but  a  little  advantage  on  their 
fair  promises  to  remove  the  troubles  of  the  body, 
and  they  will  cut  down  the  soul  also.  Therefore 
obsia  pnnct/'iis,  crush  the  cockatrice  in  the  egg, 
refuse  all  iniquity  at  the  first,  in  what  extenuation 
of  quantity  or  colour  of  quality  soever  it  be  offered  ; 
for  if  Satan  cannot  get  leave  for  his  whole  army  of 
lusts,  yet  he  will  beg  hard  for  his  weak  ones — his 
little  ones — sins  of  weakness  and  infirmity,  which, 
if  once  admitted,  will  soon  unbolt  the  doors  of  the 
heart,  let  in  all  the  rest  of  their  company,  and  so 
make  a  surprisal  of  the  soul  and  endanger  it  to  all 
eternity.  — Adams,  1653. 

(4741.)  Satan  would  seem  to  be  mannerly  and 
reasonable  ;  making  as  if  he  would  be  content  with 
one-half  of  the  heart,  whereas  God  challengeth  all 
or  none  :  as,  indeed.  He  hath  most  reason  to  claim 
all  that  made  all.  Uut  this  is  nothing  but  a 
crafty  fetch  of  Satan  ;  for  he  knows  that  if  he  have 
any  part,  God  will  have  none  :  so  the  whole  falleth 
to  his  share  alone. 

My  heart,  when  it  is  both  whole  and  at  the  best, 
is  but  a  strait  and  unworthy  lodging  for  God.  If  it 
were  bigger  and  better,  1  would  reserve  it  all  for 
Him.  Satan  may  look  in  at  my  doors  by  a  temp- 
tation,— but  he  shall  not  have  so  much  as  one 
chamber-room  set  apart  for  him  to  sojourn  in. 

—Hall,  1574-1656. 

(4742.)  If  you  yield  to  Satan  in  the  least,  he  will 
carry  you  further  and  fun  her,  till  he  has  left  you 
under  a  stu])efied  or  terrified  conVcience  :  stupefied, 
till  thou  hast  lo.-^t  all  thy  tenderness.  A  stone  at  the 
top  of  a  hill,  when  it  begins  to  roll  down,  ceases  not 
till  it  conies  to  the  bottom.  '1  hou  thinkest  it  is 
but  yielding  a  little,  and  so  by  degrees  art  carried 
on,  till  thou  hast  sinned  away  all  thy  profession, 
and  all  principles  of  conscience,  by  the  secret 
witchery  of  his  temptations. 

— Man  ton,  1 620 -1 667. 

(4743.)  Take  heed  that  you  do  not  yield  to  any- 
thing, that  you  may  be  rid  of;  that  you  do  not 
yield  to  any  part  of  the  temptation,  that  you  may 
be  delivered  from.  It  is  more  easy  to  keep  the 
enemy  out  of  the  town,  than  to  get  him  out  when 
he  is  come  into  it.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to  keep  a 
stone  on  the  top  of  an  hill  u  hile  it  lies  there  ;  but 
when  it  once  begins  to  roll  down,  it  is  a  hard  thing 
to  stay  it,  and  you  cannot  say  how  far  it  shall  go. 
How  many  are  there  that  say  when  they  are  tempted, 
"  I  will  yield  but  once,  I  will  yield  but  a  little,  and 
I  will  never  yield  again,  this  is  the  last  time  !  "  Oh  1 
but  your  once  yielding,  and  your  yielding  but  a 
little,  engages  your  iieart  to  the  whole  work.  You 
should  uaich  and  pray  against  temptation.  "  Watch 
and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation."  He 
does  not  say,  Watch  and  pray,  that  you  be  not 
tempted  ;  but,  "  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation."  It  is  one  thing  for  temptation  to 
knock  at  the  door,  and  another  tiling  to  come  in  : 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


<    791     ) 


TEMPT  A  TION, 


when  temptation  enters  you,  you  enter  into  temp- 
tation ;  take  heed  of  that. 

— Bridge,  1 600- 1 6  70. 

(4744.)  As  soldiers  by  cowardly  leaving  some 
outwork  they  are  set  to  defend,  give  place  to  their 
enemy  who  enters  tlie  same,  and  from  thence  doth 
more  easily  shoot  into  the  ciiy  than  he  could  before. 
Thus  yielding  in  one  temptation,  we  let  the  devil 
into  our  trench,  and  give  him  a  fair  advantacje  to  do 
us  the  more  mischief.  The  angry  man,  while  he  is 
raging  and  raving,  thinks,  may  be,  no  more  but  to 
ease  his  passion  by  disgorging  it  in  some  l)itter  keen 
words  ;  but,  alas  !  while  his  fury  and  wrath  is  sally- 
ing out  at  the  portal  of  his  lips,  the  devil,  finiling 
the  door  open,  enters  and  hurries  him  further  than 
he  dreamt  of.  We  have  not  to  do  with  a  Han- 
nibal, who,  though  a  great  swordsman,  yet  wanted 
the  art  of  following  and  improving  the  advantages 
his  victories  gave  him,  but  with  a  cunning  ilevil, 
that  will  easily  lose  no  ground  he  gets;  our  best 
way,  Lherefoie,  is  to  give  him  no  hand-hold. 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4745-)  When  Satan  comes  to  tempt,  he  is 
modest,  and  asks  but  a  little  ;  he  knows  he  may 
get  that  at  many  times  which  he  should  be  denied 
if  he  asked  all  at  once.  A  few  are  let  into  a  citv, 
■when  an  army  coming  in  a  body  would  be  shut 
out ;  and  therefore  that  he  may  beget  no  suspicion, 
he  presents,  may  be,  a  few  general  propositions, 
which  do  not  discover  the  depth  of  this  plot  ;  these, 
like  scouts,  go  before,  while  his  whole  body  lies 
hid,  as  it  were,  in  some  swamp  at  hand.  Thus  he 
wriggled  into  Eve's  bosom,  whom  he  doth  not  at 
first  dash  bid  lake  and  eat ;  no,  he  is  more  mannerly 
than  so  ;  this  would  have  been  so  hideous,  that  as 
the  fish  with  some  sudden  noise,  by  a  stone  cast 
into  the  river,  is  scared  from  the  bait,  so  would  she 
kave  been  affrighted  from  lioUiing  parley  with  such 
a  one  ;  no,  he  propounds  a  question  which  shall 
make  way  for  this,  "Hath  God  said?"  "Art  not 
mistaken  ?  Could  this  be  His  meaning  whose 
bounty  lets  thee  eat  of  the  rest,  to  deny  thee  the 
best  of  all?"  Thus  he  digs  about,  and  loosens  the 
roots  of  her  faith,  and  then  the  tree  falls  the  easier 
the  next  gust  of  temptation.  This  is  a  dangerous 
policy  indeed.  Many  have  yielded  to  go  a  mile 
with  Satan,  that  never  intended  to  go  two  ;  but 
when  once  on  the  way,  liave  been  allured  further 
and  further,  till  at  last  they  know  not  how  to  leave 
his  company.  Thus  Satan  leads  poor  creatures 
down  into  the  depths  of  sin  by  winding  stairs,  that 
let  them  not  see  tlie  bottom  whither  they  are  going. 
First,  he  presents  an  object  that  occasions  some 
thoughts,  these  set  fire  on  the  affections,  and  these 
fume  up  into  the  brain,  and  cloud  the  understand- 
mg,  which  being  thus  disabled,  now  Satan  dares  a 
little  more  declare  himself,  and  boldly  solicits  the 
creature  to  that  it  would  even  now  have  denied. 
Many  who  at  this  day  lie  in  open  profaneness, 
never  thought  they  should  have  rolled  so  far  from 
iheir  profession,  bat  Satan  beguiled  them,  poor 
souls,  with  their  modest  beginnings.  O  Christians, 
give  not  place  to  Satan,  no,  not  an  inch  in  his  first 
motions ;  he  that  is  a  beggar,  and  a  modest  one 
without  doors,  will  command  the  house  if  let  in  ! 
Yield  at  first,  and  thou  givest  away  thy  strength  to 
resist  him  in  the  rest ;  when  the  hem  is  worn,  the 
whole  garment  will  ravel  out,  if  that  be  not  mended 
by  timely  repentance.         — Gurnall^  161 7-1679. 


(4746.)  Every  inclination  to  sin,  evtry  compli- 
ance with  temptation,  is  a  going  down  the  hill. 
While  we  keep  our  standing  we  may  command 
ourselves  ;  but  if  we  once  put  ourselves  into  violent 
motion  downward,  we  cannot  stop  when  we  please. 
—  Til  lot  son,  i63c^i694. 

4.  Hopefully. 

(4747.)  The  Christian's  safety  lies  in  resisting. 
All  the  armour  here  provided  is  to  delend  tha 
Christian  fighting,  none  to  secure  him  flying. 
Stand,  and  the  day  is  ours  ;  fly  or  yield,  and  all  is 
lost.  Great  captains,  to  make  their  soldiers  more 
resolute,  do  sometimes  cut  off  all  hope  of  a  safe 
retreat  to  them  that  run  away.  Thus  the  Norman 
Conqueror,  as  soon  as  his  men  were  set  on  English 
shore,  sent  away  his  ships  in  their  sight,  that  they 
might  resolve  to  fight  or  die.  God  takes  away  all 
thought  of  safety  to  the  coward.  Not  a  piece  to  be 
found  for  the  back  in  all  God's  armoury.  Stand, 
and  the  bullets  light  all  on  your  armour  ;  fly,  and 
they  enter  into  your  hearts.  '  lis  a  terrible  place 
(Heb.  X.  38) :  "The  just  shall  live  by  faith,  but  if 
any  man  draw  back,  my  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure 
in  him."  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

IX,    HOli^  IT  IS  TO  BE  OVERCOME. 

1.  By  being  forearmed. 

{4748.)  "  The  man  that  endureth  temptation  '*  Vk 
the  man  who  has  learnt  and  is  enabled  to  bear  up 
under  it  ;  or,  as  we  sometimes  exi)ress  ourselves,  he 
will  weather  it.  He  expects  it  ;  and,  when  it  comes 
on  him,  he  is  not  sur[>rised.  He  knows  that  it  is 
impossible  to  give  place  to  it,  in  any  degree  with 
salety  ;  he  resolves,  therefore,  by  the  help  of  God, 
to  make  a  stand  ;  and  though  the  current  may  run 
strong  against  him,  yet  he  certainly  knows  that  he 
must  either  go  against  the  current,  or  be  carried 
away,  and  perish  for  ever.       — Cecil,  1748-1810. 

(4749.)  After  we  have  got  the  belter  of  the 
tempter,  we  must  do  as  the  mariners  in  a  calm, 
mend  our  tackling,  as  not  knowing  how  soon 
another  storm  may  come.  — Watson,  1676. 

(4750.)  Though  no  combatant  be  near,  though 
the  deep  be  calm  and  clear,  a  wary  warrior  is  ever 
on  his  guard,  the  wary  pilot  is  never  asleep  :  even 
in  peace  and  in  calm  he  prepares  his  arms,  trims 
his  sail,  ready,  whatever  chance  presents  it>elf,  to 
meet  the  battle  or  the  gale.  — Metastasio. 

(4751.)  I  would  urge,  as  another  branch  of 
Christian  prudence  in  the  resisting  of  evil,  that  we 
do  not  wait  till  the  'temptation  comes,  and  then 
begin  our  preparations  against  it.  Arm  yourself 
against  it  beforehand.  Wuat  were  he  for  a  soldier 
who,  only  when  the  signal  of  battle  had  been  already 
given,  and  when  he  stood  face  to  face  with  his  foe, 
began  to  rivet  the  joints  of  his  armour,  and  to  put  a 
sharper  edge  on  his  sword  ?  Or  how  would  that 
nation  fare  that  should  be  providing  for  the  first 
time  fleets  and  armies  and  arsenals,  when  it  was 
already  committed  to  deadly  strife  with  another 
people  as  mighty  as  itself?  The  conflict  is  a  time 
for  using  weapons,  not  for  [)reparing  them.  And 
who  can  say  how  suddeidy,  how  liercely,  from  what 
unlooked-for  side,  a  temptation  may  assail  hiin  ? 
How,  think  you,  would  it  have  fared  with  Joseph, 
if,  cast  suddenly  as  he  was  into  the  fiery  furnace  of 
lemiJtation,  his  wanton  mistress  seeking  to  entice 
him   to  sin,    had  he    not  al;eady,    and    by    many 


TEMPTATION. 


(    792    ) 


TEMPTATION. 


prayers  going  before,  souglit  and  obtained  the  gift 
and  grace  of  chastity  from  God  ?  Do  we  not  feel 
sure,  if  he  had  needed  then  for  the  first  time  to  seeli 
Hi.=  grace,  he  would  not  have  soui;lit,  lie  would  not 
have  obtained  it,  but  have  been  in  that  fierce  fur- 
nace scorched  and  utterly  consumed  ?  Say  then 
often  to  yourseJves,  I  am  in  a  world  full  of  temp- 
tation, the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked  one  are  flying 
thick  and  fast  about  me  ;  if  one  lights  not  on  my 
heart  to-day,  it  will  light  to-morrow  or  the  next 
day ;  my  wisdom,  my  safety,  is  to  seek  betimes 
that  grace  which  sooner  or  later  I  must  need.  It 
will  be  too  late  then  first  to  seek  it  when  the  need 
of  it  has  actually  arrived.  Neither  content  yourself 
with  saying  this,  but  actually  seek  it,  and  store  it 
against  the  evd  time  which  is  coming,  that  you  may 
be  able  to  stand  in  that  evil  time,  and  having  done 
all,  to  stand.  — Irmch. 

2.  By  turning  our  attention  to  otlier  objects. 

(4752.)  When  a  temptation  arises,  do  not  always 
stand  to  answer  it  in  the  kind  ;  but  sometimes  turn 
your  mind  and  thoughts  off  it  to  another  object.  It 
is  in  our  deliverance  from  a  temptation,  as  in  our 
comforts  under  an  affliction  :  a  man  hath  a  great 
■affliction  upon  liim,  possibly  the  death  of  some 
friend  that  is  near  and  dear  unto  him,  and  you  go 
to  comfort  him,  and  in  comforting  him.,  you  fall  a 
speaking  of  his  friend  departed  :  whereas  the  way 
to  comtort  him,  is  not  to  speak  of  tlie  person 
departed,  but  fall  into  conference  about  some  other 
good  thing  different :  and  by  that  time  his  heart  is 
settled  upon  some  other  thing,  then  you  may  come 
back  again  and  speak  of  the  friend  departed  with- 
out grieving  of  him  ;  but  otherwise,  even  in  your 
comfort  you  fetch  out  tears.  And  so  I  say  in 
regard  of  temptation  :  the  way  to  avoid  temptation 
is  not  always  to  apply  a  salve  directly  pertinent  to 
the  temptation  ;  but  turn  off  your  mind  and  your 
thoughts  to  some  other  good  object,  and  by  that 
time  your  mind  is  settled  upon  other  objects,  you 
will  be  easily  able  to  meet  with  the  temptation. 
— Bridge,  1 600- 1 670, 

3.  By  considering  wlietlier  we  are  able  to  bear 
the  burden  of  sin. 

{4753.)  Porters,  when  they  are  called  to  carry  a 
burthen  on  their  shoulders,  first  look  diligently  upon 
it,  then  they  poise  and  lift  it  up,  to  try  whether  they 
shall  have  strength  to  carry  it  when  it  is  once  on 
their  backs  ;  and  thus  should  every  man  do  that, 
for  a  little  pleasure,  hath  enthralled  himself  to  carry 
the  burthen  of  sin.  He  should  first  prove  and  assay 
what  a  weight  sin  is,  what  a  burthen  the  punishment 
of  sin  is,  which  he  must  bear  or  sink  under  it ;  and 
by  this  means  he  shall  soon  find  himself  at  a  loss, 
"For  a  wounded  spirit  ivho  can  bear  i  " 

— Serdonius  de  Granatetisis. 

4.  By  regarding  its  ultimate  Issues. 

(4754.)    Satan  gives  Adam  an  apple,  and  takes 
away  Paradise.     Therefore  in  all  temptations  let  us 
consider  not  what  he  offers,  but  what  we  shall  lose. 
— ::iibbes,  1577-1635. 

(4755.)  When  thou  seest  the  fisher  baiting  his 
nook,  thou  msyest  think  of  the  policy  of  the  devil, 
*vho  sugars  over  his  poisoned  hooks  with  seeming 
profit  and  pleasures.  Eve's  apple  was  candied  with 
Divine  kn  av  ledge  ;  "  Ye  shall  be  as  gods,  knowir.g 
good  and  evil  "  -Swintiock.  167 ». 


(4756.)  When  you  maturely  look  into  the  nature 
and  design  of  temptations,  you  will  find  the  most 
taking  to  be  but  as  so  many  cheats,  which,  under 
the  visor  of  some  delight  or  profit,  would  rob  you 
of  your  integrity,  and  betray  you  to  enmity  both 
witlr  God  and  yourself.  And  therefore,  when  you 
entertain  any  temptation  to  sin,  you  do  as  wisely  as 
he  who  takes  those  into  his  hou-e  whom  he  knows 
are  come  on  purpose  to  spoil  him  of  what  he  esteems 
most  precious. 

— Dr.  Lancelot  Addison,  1632-1703. 

(4757.)  Let  not  that  man  who  would  not  be  fooled 
in  so  vast  an  interest  as  his  salvation,  fix  his  eye 
either  upon  the  outside  or  the  beginning  of  a  tempta- 
tion. Ever  the  beginning  of  a  tragedy  is  pleasant, 
but  the  close  of  it  is  not  so.  Let  him  not  judge  of 
what  the  tempter  intends  by  what  he  offers  ;  for  be 
it  what  it  will,  look  it  never  so  gay  or  great,  can 
any  one,  not  quite  abandoned  by  common  sense, 
imagine  that  his  moital,  avowed  enemy  is  at  all 
concerned  for  his  pleasure,  profit,  or  preferment  ? 
Assuredly  nothing  less,  in  all  this  he  is  but  setting 
his  trap  ;  and  no  man  sets  a  trap,  but  he  baits  it  too. 
He  hates  most  implacably  while  he  offers  most 
plausibly.  His  drift  in  every  one  of  his  tempta- 
tions is  to  separate  between  the  soul  and  its  chief 
good  for  ever,  and  to  plunge  it  into  a  state  of  misery 
both  intolerable  and  unchangeable. 

— South,  1 633-1 716. 

5.  By  self-examination. 

(4758.)  The  special  trials  and  temptations  of  men 
call  for  the  exercise  of  their  thoughts  in  a  peculiar 
manner  with  respect  unto  them.  If  a  man  have  a 
bodily  disease,  pain,  or  distemper,  it  will  cause  him 
to  think  much  of  it  whether  he  will  or  no — at  least, 
if  he  be  wise  he  will  do  so  ;  nor  will  he  always  be 
complaining  of  the  smart,  but  he  will  inquire  into 
the  causes,  and  seek  their  removal. 

— Owen,  1 61 6- 1683. 

6.  By  humility. 

(4759.)  Want  of  humiliation  many  times  brings 
men  to  desperate  stands,  and  sometimes  to  untimely 
deaths.  In  time  of  war,  when  the  great  cannon 
fly  off,  the  only  way  to  avoid  them  is  to  lie  down 
in  a  furrow,  and  so  the  bullets  fly  over.  So  in  all 
temptations  of  Satan  lie  low,  and  be  contented  to 
be  at  God's  disposing,  and  all  these  fiery  tempta- 
tions shall  not  be  able  to  hurt  you. 

— Ambrose,  1664. 

7.  By  Instant  recourse  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
(4760.)  Take  heed  that  you  do  not  stand  poring 

upon  your  temptations,  whatsoever  your  temptations 
be.  When  the  children  of  Israel  were  stung  by 
the  serpents  in  the  wilderness,  they  did  not  stand 
poring  upon  the  arm  that  was  stung,  crying  out, 
"Oh,  my  arm  !  oh,  how  it  is  swelled  !"  l)ut  they 
looked  up  upon  the  brazen  serpent.  If  they  had 
look  upon  their  arm,  and  stood  poring  upon  that, 
they  had  never  been  cured.  So  now,  if  in  case  we 
be  tempted,  the  way  is  not  to  stand  pormg  upon 
the  temptation,  but  to  look  off  unto  Christ.  Set 
the  Lord  always  before  your  eyes,  His  all-sufficiency, 
His  fulness.  His  grace.  His  goodness  ;  "  1  have  set 
Lhe  Lord  always  before  me,  at  my  right  hand," 
saith  David,  "  and  therefore  I  shall  not  fall ;  "  so 
do  you.  '  — Bridge,  lboo-l(>^^i. 

(4761.)  Think  not  to  comfort  or  relieve  yourself 
in   temptation  with    mere   philosophical  or   moral 


TEMPTATION. 


\     793     ) 


TEMPTATION. 


reasons.  For  t/ie  disease  of  temptation  is  stronger 
than  that  physic.  Temptalioiis  answered  by  reason 
will  return  again  ;  but  temptations  dipt  in  tlie  blood 
of  Christ  will  return  no  more,  or  not  with  such  viol- 
ence and  success.  Ye  see  how  it  is  with  a  candle 
I'.iat  is  blown  out,  it  is  easily  lighted  again  ;  but  if 
you  put  it  into  water,  then  it  is  more  hard  to  light. 
So  temptations  blown  out  with  resolutions  and 
moral  reasons  do  easily  return  ;  but  quenched  in 
Christ's  blciod  do  not  so.  Christ  is  an  universal 
good  ;  reason  can  hold  forth  but  a  particular  good. 
Now  there  is  that  in  an  universal  good  which  will 
answer  unto  all  ills  ;  but  as  for  moral  reasons,  the 
tempter  will  say  to  them,  "Christ  we  know,  and 
the  Promise  we  know,  but  who  are  ye  ?  " 

— Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(4762.)  As  soon  as  you  perceive  yourself  tempted, 
follow  the  example  of  children,  when  they  see  a 
wolf  or  a  bear  in  the  country ;  for  presently  they 
run  into  the  arms  of  their  father  or  mother,  or  at 
least  they  call  out  to  them  for  help  or  assistance. 
It  is  the  remedy  which  our  Lord  has  taught  (Matt. 
xxvi.  41).  Pray,  lest  you  enter  into  temptation. 
— Francis  dc  Sales. 

8.  By  fervent  prayer. 

(4763  )  Let  a  man  be  but  as  earnest  in  praying 
against  a  temptation  as  the  tempter  is  in  pressing 
it,  and  he  needs  not  proceed  by  a  surer  measure. 
He  who  prays  against  it  coldly  and  indifferently, 
gives  too  shrewd  a  sign  that  he  neither  fears  nor 
hates  it ;  for  coldness  is,  and  always  will  be,  a 
symptom  of  deadness,  especially  in  prayer,  where 
life  and  heat  are  the  same  thing. 

The  prayers  of  the  saint  are  set  forth  in  Scripture 
at  much  another  rate,  not  only  by  calls  and  cries, 
cries  even  to  a  roaring  and  vociferation  (Ps.  xxxviii. 
8);  and  sometimes  by  "strong  cries  with  tears" 
(Heb.  V.  7);  sometimes  again  by  "groanings  not 
to  be  uttered"  (Rom.  viii.  26);  things  too  big  for 
vent,  too  high  for  expression.  In  line,  he  who 
prays  against  his  spiritual  enemy  as  he  ought  to  do, 
is  like  a  man  fighting  against  him  upon  his  knees  ; 
and  he  who  fights  so,  by  the  very  posture  of  his 
fighting  shows  that  he  neither  will  nor  can  run 
away. 

Lip-devotion  will  not  serve  the  turn  :  it  under- 
values the  very  thing  it  prays  for.  It  is  indeed  the 
begging  of  a  denial,  and  shall  certainly  be  answered 
in  what  it  begs ;  but  he  who  truly  and  sensibly 
knows  the  invaluable  happiness  of  being  delivered 
from  temptation,  and  the  unspeakable  misery  of 
sinking  under  it,  will  pray  against  it,  as  a  man 
ready  to  starve  would  beg  for  bread,  or  a  man 
sentenced  to  die  would  entreat  for  life.  Every 
period,  every  word,  every  tittle  of  such  a  prayer  is 
all  spirit  and  life,  flame  and  ecstacy  ;  it  shoots  from 
one  heart  into  another,  from  the  heart  of  him  who 
utters  to  the  heart  of  him  who  hears  it. 

And  then  well  may  that  powerful  thing  vanquish 
the  temjHer,  which  binds  the  hands  of  justice,  and 
opens  the  hands  of  mercy,  and,  in  a  word,  overcomes 
and  prevails  over  Omnipotence  itself;  for,  "Let 
Me  go,"  says  God  to  Jacob  (Gen.  xxxii.  26)  ;  and, 
"  Let  Me  alone,"  says  God  to  Moses  (Exodus  xxxii. 
10).  One  would  think  that  tlu're  was  a  kind  of 
trial  of  strength  between  the  Almighty  and  them  ; 
but  whatsoever  it  was,  it  shows  that  there  was  and 
is  something  in  prayer  which  He,  who  made  heaven 
and  earth,  neither  could  nor  can  resist ;  and  if  this 
be  tha-'  holy  violence  which  heaven  itself  (as  has 


been  shown)  cannot  stand  out  against,  no  wondel 
if  all  the  powers  of  hell  must  fall  before  it ! 

—South,  1633-1 7 1 6. 

9.  By  exercising  faith  In  God. 

(4764.)  If  you  would  not  be  discouraged  under 
your  temptations,  take  heed  that  when  you  are  in 
temptation  you  do  not  expect  too  much  from  any 
one  means  of  help.  Over-expectation  breeds  dis- 
appointment ;  disappointment  breeds  discourage- 
ment. It  is  not  the  sadness  of  your  condition,  but 
disappointment  that  causes  discouragement.  If  a 
man  be  in  debt,  and  under  an  arrest,  so  long  as  he 
thinks  he  has  friends  to  bail  him,  or  some  goods  and 
commodities  to  make  sale  of,  he  is  not  discouraged  ; 
but  if  he  expect  much  from  his  friends,  and  all  fail 
him,  and  his  goods  be  seized,  that  he  cannot  have 
help  to  come  in  at  that  door,  nor  from  any  other 
means  which  he  expected  from,  then  he  is  quite 
discouraged.  If  a  man  be  in  the  water,  wherein 
there  is  danger  of  drowning,  so  long  as  he  can  get 
hold  of  something  that  will  bear  him  up,  he  is  not 
discouraged  ;  but  if  he  lay  hold  of  some  tuft  ot 
grass  on  the  bank-side,  and  that  breaks,  he  falls 
back  again  and  is  more  plunged  into  the  water,  and 
if  he  be  not  scared  out  of  all  thoughts,  he  is  more 
discouraged  than  ever.  So  here  in  temptation  :  we 
are  as  in  the  water,  and  in  fear  of  drowning,  crying 
out,  "  We  sink,  we  sink  !"  Then  we  fly  to  some 
tuft  of  grass,  some  means  or  other,  and  if  that  break 
or  fail,  then  we  are  quite  cast  down.  Would  you 
not  be  dejected,  therefore,  or  cast  down  in  tempta- 
tion ?  Take  heed  that  you  do  not  lay  all  your 
strength  upon  one  tuft  of  grass, — this  or  that  man's 
counsel,  this  or  that  particular  means ;  but  say 
rather,  "  I  am  now  indeed  in  the  deep,  and  in  fear 
of  drowning  ;  I  see  no  means  of  deliverance;  but 
God's  ways  are  in  the  deep.  He  has  ways  and  means 
that  1  know  not  of;  therefore  though  I  use  the 
means,  yet  I  will  not  rest  on  them,  and  though  all 
tufts  of  grass  brealv,  and  anchors  come  home,  yet  I 
will  wait  upon  God."  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(4765.)  It  was  the  speech  of  Taulerus,  one  that 
Luther  prizelh  above  all  :  says  he,  Though  the 
mariners  may  make  use  of  their  oars  in  ihe  tin^.e  of 
calm,  yet  when  a  storm  comes  down  the  mariners 
leave  all  and  fly  to  their  anchor.  So,  though  at 
other  times  we  may  make  use  of  resolutions,  and 
vows,  and  the  like,  yet  when  the  storm  of  tempta- 
tion comes  down,  nothing  then  but  fly  to  the  anchor 
of  faith,  nothing  then  like  to  casting  of  anchor  into 
the  vail.  — Bridge,  1600- 16  70. 

10.  By  quenclilng  It  In  the  blood  of  Christ. 
(4766.)   Whether  you  would  overcome,  or  whether 

you  would  prevent  temptation  ;  whatever  means  you 
use,  be  sure  of  this,  that  you  take  your  temptation 
and  (lip  it  in  the  blood  of  Christ.  Take  a  candle  that 
is  lighted,  and  only  blow  out  the  candle,  the  candle 
is  easily  lighted  again  ;  but  when  the  candle  is  out, 
take  it  and  put  it  into  the  water,  and  then  it  is  not 
so  easily  lighted  again  :  so  now  a  temptation  comes, 
and  you  blow  it  out  with  a  resolution,  and  you  will 
ntjt  yield  to  it  ;  alas  !  it  is  easily  lighted  again  :  but 
now  take  this  candle,  take  this  lemptaiion,  and 
come  and  dip  it  in  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  it 
will  not  be  so  easily  lighted  again  ;  so  yoi'  shall  be 
able  to  prevent  temptation  lor  the  time  to  come. 
Never  rest  alone  m  resolvin;.;,  but,  oh  !  take  your 
temptation  and  dip  it  in  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ. 
— Bridge,  1600-1670 


TEMPTATION. 


(    794    ) 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


3L     CONSOLATIONS   FOR    THE    TEMPTED. 

1.  Temptation  Is  not  sin. 

(4767.)  If  a  man  finds  weeds  growing  in  his  garden 
and  naturally  >iiriiiy;ing  out  of  liis  own  ground,  he 
taketii  much  |iniiis  to  weed  tliem  out  ;  but  if  he 
seeth  that  they  have  no  rooting  there,  and  are  only 
cast  over  the  wall  by  some  ill-wilier,  he  careth  not 
much  for  it,  because  he  can  with  as  small  pains  cast 
fhem  out  again  as  they  took  that  cast  them  in.  So, 
it  we  perceive  that  the  weeds  of  temptation  are 
rooted  in  our  sinful  nature,  and  spring  from  our 
corrupt  flesh,  we  must  take  the  more  care  and  pains 
to  weed  them  out  ;  but  if  they  l)e  only  injected  by 
the  malice  of  Satan,  we  are  not  to  be  so  much  moved 
therewith,  but  to  cast  them  out  of  our  minds  and 
hearts,  as  often  and  as  easily  as  he  casts  them  in. 
— Dmvnaine,  1644. 

2,  Temptations  are  specially  experienced  by 
God's  children. 

(4768.)  The  saints  are  passed,  by  the  power  of 
God,  out  of  Satan's  kingdom,  and  therefore  he  does 
spite  them  as  not  of  his  family  ;  as  dogs  used  to 
bark  and  bite,  not  those  of  the  house  they  are  in, 
but  strangers.  — Bay  tie,  16 18. 

(4769.)  As  men  cherish  young  plants  at  first,  and 
fence  them  about  vvith  hedges  and  other  things  to 
keep  them  from  hurt,  but  when  they  are  grown, 
they  remove  these,  and  leave  them  to  the  wind  and 
weather  ;  so  God  besets  His  children  first  with 
props  of  inward  comforts,  but  afterwards  exposes 
them  to  storms  and  winds,  because  they  are  better 
able  to  bear  it.  Therefore  let  no  man  think  himself 
the  better  because  he  is  free  from  troubles.  It  is 
be<-ause  God  sees  him  not  fit  to  bear  greater. 

—Sibbes,  1577-1635- 

(4770.)  The  devil  desires  to  winnow  Peter,  not 
Judas.  The  more  faithful  servants  of  God  we  be, 
the  more  doth  Satan  bruise  us  with  the  flail,  or  grate 
us  with  the  fan. 

Tiie  thief  does  not  break  into  an  empty  cottage, 
but  into  some  furnished  house  or  full  granary, 
where  the  fatness  of  the  booty  is  a  fitness  to  his 
desires.  This  unclean  spirit  finds  no  rest  in  an 
atheist,  usurer,  drunkard,  swearer,  &c.  He  knows 
a  canker  has  ovcrru.n  their  consciences  already  ; 
and  that  they  are  as  sure  as  tem[)taiion  can  make 
them.  No  prince  makes  war  with  his  own  tract- 
able subjects.  What  need  he  tempt  them  that  tempt 
themselves?  The  fowler  shoots  at  birds  that  be 
wild,  not  at  doves  and  yard-fowls,  tame,  and  in  his 
own  keeping.  — Adams,  1653. 

(4771.)  Temptations  are  rather  hopeful  evidences 
that  thy  estate  is  good,  that  thou  art  dear  to  God, 
and  that  it  shall  go  well  with  thee  for  ever,  than 
otherwise.  God  had  but  one  Son  without  corrup- 
tion, but  lie  hnd  none  without  temptation.  Pirates 
make  the  fiercest  assaults  upon  those  vessels  that 
are  the  most  richly  laden  ;  so  does  Satan  upon 
those  souls  that  are  most  richly  laden  with  the  trea- 
sures of  grace,  with  the  riches  of  glory.  When 
nothing  will  sntisfy  the  soul,  but  a  full  departuie 
out  01  Egypt,  fi'om  the  bondage  and  slavery  of  sin, 
and  that  the  snui  is  firmly  resolved  upon  a  uiarch 
for  Canaan,  then  Satan,  Pharaoh-like,  will  luiiously 
pursue  after  the  S"ul  with  horses  and  chariots,  that 
IS,  with  a  whole    army  of   temptations.      Well,    a 


tempted  soul,  when  it  is  worst  with  him,  may  safely 
argue  thus — "  If  God  were  not  my  friend,  Satan 
would  not  be  so  much  my  enemy.  If  there  were 
not  something  of  God  within  me,  Satan  wouhi 
never  make  such  attempts  to  storm  me.  If  the  love 
of  God  were  not  set  upon  me,  Satan  would  never 
shoot  so  many  fiery  darts  to  wound  me.  If  the 
heart  of  God  were  not  towards  me,  the  hand  of 
Satan  would  not  be  so  strong  against  me."  The 
jailor  is  quiet  when  his  prisoner  is  in  bolts  ;  but  if 
he  be  escaped,  then  he  pursues  him  with  hue  and 
cry  ;  you  know  how  to  apply  it. 

— Brooks,  1680. 

(4772.)  Those  whom  God  intends  to  make  choice 
instruments  in  His  service,  are  first  seasoned  with 
strong  temptations,  as  timber  reserved  for  the  strong 
beams  of  a  building  is  first  ex ]:)osed  to  sun  and  wind, 
to  make  it  more  compact  for  its  proper  use. 

— Charnock,  l628-i68a 

(4773.)  Satan  doth  not  tempt  God's  children, 
because  they  have  sin  in  them,  but  becau>e  they 
have  grace  in  them.  Had  they  no  grace,  the  devil 
would  not  disturb  them  :  where  he  keeps  possession 
all  is  in  peace  (Luke  xi.  21).  His  temptations  are 
to  rob  the  saints  of  their  grace.  A  thief  will  not 
assault  an  empty  house,  but  where  he  thinks  there 
is  treasure  ;  a  pirate  will  not  set  upon  an  empty 
ship,  but  one  that  is  full  fraught  with  spices  and 
jewels  ;  .so  the  devil  most  assaults  the  people  of 
God,  because  he  thinks  they  have  a  rich  treasure  of 
grace  in  their  hearts,  and  he  would  rob  them  of 
that.  What  makes  so  many  cudgels  be  thrown  at 
a  tree,  but  because  there  is  so  much  fruit  hanging 
upon  it  ?  The  devil  throws  his  temptations  at  you, 
because  he  sees  you  have  so  much  fruit  of  grace 
growing  upon  you.  Though  to  be  tempted  is  a 
trouble,  yet  to  think  why  you  are  tempted  is  a 
comfort.  — IVatson,  1696. 

(4774.)  Believers  are  soldiers  :  all  soldiers,  by 
their  jjrofession,  are  enga;^ed  to  fight,  if  called  upon, 
but  who  shall  be  called  to  sustain  the  hottest  service, 
and  be  most  frequently  exposed  upon  the  field  of 
l)attle,  depends  upon  the  will  of  the  general  or  king. 
Some  of  our  soldiers  are  now  upon  hard  service  in 
America,  while  others  are  stationed  round  the  palace, 
see  the  king's  (ace  daily,  and  have  no  dangers  or 
hardships  to  encounter,  'ihese,  however,  are  as 
lialjle  to  a  call  as  the  others  ;  but  if  not  called  upon, 
they  may  enjoy  with  thankfulness  the  more  easy  post 
assigned  them.  Thus,  the  Captain  of  our  saKation 
allots  to  His  soldiers  such  stations  as  He  thinks 
■jiioper.  He  has  a  right  to  employ  whom  He  will. 
And  where  He  will.  Some  are  comparatively  at 
ease  ;  they  are  not  exposed  to  the  fiercest  onsets, 
but  live  near  His  presence:  others  are,  to  appear* 
ance,  pressed  above  measure,  lievond  strength,  so 
that  they  despair  eve>n  of  Hie  ;  yet  they  are  supported, 
and  in  the  entl  matle  more  than  conquerors  through 
Him  that  hath  loved  them.  1-ong  ol)servation  con- 
vinces me  that  the  temptations  which  some  endure 
are  not  chastisements  brought  upon  them  by  unfaith. 
fulness,  or  for  anything  remarkably  wrong  in  their 
spirit  or  walk;  1  often  rather  consider  that  in  this 
warfare,  as  in  woildly  wars,  the  post  of  danger  and 
ditficultyis  the  post  of  honour,  and  as  such  assignetl 
to  those  whom  he  has  favoured  ,  with  a  peculiar 
measure  of  His  grace.         — Aew/on,  1725-1807. 

(4775.)  If  the  temptations  that  beset  and  assail 
us  do  not  occupy  such  a  place  in  our  thoughts  and 


TEMPTATION. 


(    795     ) 


TEMPTATION. 


lives — for  they  give  some  men  no  trouble — that 
admits  of  an  obvious  but  melancholy  explanation. 
It  is  not  that  the  man  who  is  without  regrets, 
anxieties,  daily  and  hourly  stiufjgles,  is  a  better 
man  than  he  who  has  "  fightings  without  and 
fears  within."  It  is  not  that  he  is  holy,  nevei 
tempted,  or  that  he  never  yields  to  temptation. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  because  he,  unresisting,  yields 
to  it.  What  more  pleasant  and  easy  than  the 
motion  of  a  vessel  that,  gliding  down  the  stream,  is 
borne  onwards  to  the  cataract  that  shall  hurl  it  to 
destruction?  But  bring  the  boat's  head  round,  and 
a  struggle  begins  ;  peace  is  gone  now  ;  she  trembles 
from  stem  to  stern  ;  and  by  her  violent  plunges,  the 
waves  that  break  over  her  bows,  and,  shaking  every 
limber,  threaten  to  engulf  her,  you  know  the  power 
and  presence  of  a  current  that  had  been  quietly 
wafting  her  on  to  ruin. 

Thus  it  is  with  man  and  temptations  so  soon  as 
he  is  converted.  No  sooner  is  peace  with  God 
through  Christ  settled,  than  war  is  proclaimed, 
and  the  man  involved  in  its  arduous  and  life-long 
struggles.  I  have  seen  one  that  had  grown  grey  in 
the  army,  and  yet  had  never  been  under  hre,  or 
seen  the  seiried  bayonets  gl.ince  but  on  parade. 
The  Captain  of  our  salvation  has  no  such  soldiers  ; 
His  have  given  and  suffered  many  wounds,  and 
have  all  a  sore  fight  for  it.  This  conflict  begins 
with  conversion  ;  and,  if  I  might  borrow  an  illustra- 
tion from  heathen  fables,  the  infant  Hercules  has 
to  strangle  serpents  in  his  cradle.  So  soon  as  a 
man  is  new-born,  and  turns  his  face  heavenward,  he 
has  hell  to  confiont  and  fight  with.        — Guthrie, 

(4776.)  Alas !  there  are  some  here  who  .nre  not 
thus  tempted,  and  who  are,  perhaps,  congratulating 
themselves,  and  saying,  "  I  was  never  tempted  like 
that."  Ah  !  you  are  never  emptied  from  vessel  to 
vessel  ;  you  are  settled  on  the  lees ;  and  why  are 
you  left  to  be  so  quiet  ?  Is  it  not  possible  there  is 
no  spiriiual  life  in  you  ?  You  are  dead  in  tresjiasses 
ind  sins.  You  are  the  devil's  own  ;  therefore  why 
should  he  hunt  you?  A  man  does  not  go  forth 
with  a  lasso  to  hunt  a  horse  that  stands  in  his  stable 
ready  bridled  and  saddled  for  him  to  ride  whenever 
he  likes,  but  he  goes  forth  to  hunt  the  wild  horse 
that  is  free.  .So  the  devil  knows  that  he  has  you 
bridled  and  saddled,  and  that  he  can  ride  you  when- 
ever he  pleases,  and  he  does  not  need  to  hunt  you  ; 
but  he  will  hunt  the  free  Chiisiian  upon  whose  back 
he  cannot  place  a  saddle,  and  into  whose  mouth  he 
cannot  ixf.  a  bit.  I  wish  you  were  tempted.  I  wish 
there  was  something  in  you  worth  the  devil's  efforts. 

— Spnrgeon. 

S.  Temptation  is  not  necessarily  hurtful. 

(4777.)  It  is  not  the  laying  the  bait  hurts  the  fish, 
if  the  fish  do  not  bite.  — Watson,  1696. 

(4778.)  "  My  brethren,  count  it  all  joy  when  ye 
fall  into  divers  temptations;  knowing  this,  that  the 
trying  of  your  faith  worketh  patience."  Tempta- 
tion is  that  whicli  puts  to  the  test.  Trials  sent  by 
God  tio  this.  A  test  is  never  employed  for  the  pur- 
pose of  injury.  A  weight  is  attached  to  a  rope, 
not  to  break  but  to  prove  it.  Pressure  is  applied 
to  a  boiler,  not  to  burst  it,  but  to  certify  its  power  of 
resistance.  The  testing  process  here  confers  no 
strength.  But  when  a  sailor  has  to  navigate  his 
ship  under  a  heavy  gale  and  in  a  difficult  channel, 
or  when  a  general  has  \o  fight  against  a  superior 


force  and  on  disadvantageous  ground,  skill  and 
cour.ige  are  not  only  tested  but  improved.  The 
test  has  brought  experience,  and  by  practice  is 
every  faculty  perfected.  So,  faith  grows  stronger 
by  exercise,  and  patience  by  the  enduring  of  sorrow. 
Thus  alone  it  was  that  "God  did  tempt  Abraham." 
— Newman  Hall. 

(4779.)  It  is  when  a  child  of  God  is  fullest  of 
grace  ;  when  he  has  been  declared  to  be  a  "son," 
even  a  "beloved  son  "  of  Goil  ;  when  he  has  made 
a  ]niblic  profession  of  Christianity,  that  he  is  most 
of  all  exposed  to  temptation.  It  seems  strange  at 
first  thought  that  it  should  be  so,  but  a  little 
reflection  dissipates  the  stiangeness.  Let  me  try  to 
illustrate  this.  A  toolmaker,  I  suppose,  has  finished 
an  instrument,  but  it  is  not  yet  sent  forth.  Why? 
Because  he  has  not  "  tested  "  it.  Well  !  Enter  we 
his  workshop.  You  look  in  and  observe  the  process. 
Your  first  impression  is  he  is  going  to  break  it.  But 
it  is  not  so.  Toting  is  not  an  injury.  The  perfect 
weapon  comes  out  the  stronger  and  receives  the 
stamp  that  will  cany  it  over  the  world.  Even  so 
the  testing  and  trying  of  the  Christian  is  not  an 
injury.  He  viho  has  lormed  the  believer  for  Him- 
self is  not  going  to  break  or  destroy  the  work,  the 
beautiful  work  ot  His  own  hands.  He  is  purifying, 
fitting,  fashioning,  polishing.  Carry  this  along  with 
you,  my  dear  friends,  and  you  will  understanil  how 
it  comes  about  that  at  the  very  moment  of  your  being 
"full  "  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  at  the  very  moment  of 
your  announced  sonship,  you  are  most  violently 
assailed.  — Grosart. 

4.  Temptation  develops  and  displays  the  spirituaJ 
excellencies  of  God's  people. 

(4780.)  Man  is  a  shi[)  :  if  God  be  the  Pilot,  sitting 
at  the  helm  and  steering  the  vessel,  the  voyage  is 
safe  and  happy  ;  but  if  concupiscence  hold  the 
stern,  all  runs  to  ruin.  There  are  not  more  unruly 
marinersin  a  ship  than  members  in  the  body  :  let 
the  soul  look  to  all,  that  mu>t  answer  for  all.  St. 
Paul  prays  for  his  Thessalonians,  that  iheir  whole 
spirit,  and  soul,  and  liody  may  be  sanctified.  L'y 
spirit,  conceive  the  understanding  ;  by  soul,  the  will 
and  affections  ;  by  the  body,  itself  with  all  the 
members.  Turn  man  into  a  bark  ;  and  tJien  the 
steersman  is  reason,  or  rather  religion  and  grate  ; 
the  sails  are  the  affections,  the  helm  is  the  will. 
The  sails  are  apt  10  take  every  wind,  and  to  carry 
the  ship  as  that  drives  them.  If  the  pilot  lot  all 
alone, — sleep,  revel,  and  never  mind  it, — there  will 
be  sudden  destruction.  But  let  him  sit  at  the  stern, 
fix  his  eye  on  the  compass,  and  guide  his  h.  nd  by 
his  eye,  and  the  vessel  by  his  hand  ;  thus  he  shall 
even  ciieat  the  wind,  and  as  it  were  comi)€l  it  to 
blow  for  him.  Such  is  the  power  of  giace,  that  it 
makes  the  object  of  temptation  become  the  matter 
of  humiliation  ;  and  we  prove  the  belter  even  by 
that  which  would  have  made  us  worse. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(4781.)  Temptation  to  faith  is  as  fire  to  gold 
(l  I'eter  i.  7).  The  fire  doth  not  only  discover 
which  is  true  gold,  but  makes  the  true  gold  more 
pure  ;  it  comes  out  maybe  less  in  hulk  and  weight, 
(because  severed  from  that  soil  and  dross  which 
embased  it),  but  more  in  value  and  worth. 

— Gurnall,  16 17-1679. 

(4782.)  Satan  by  his  temptations  aims  at  the 
defiling  of  the  Christian's  conscience,  and  disfigup 


TEMPTATION. 


c  796  ; 


TEMPTATION. 


ing  that  beautiful  face  of  God's  image,  which  is 
engraven  with  holiness  in  the  Christian's  bosom  ;  he 
is  an  unclean  s])irit  himself,  and  would  have  them 
such,  that  he  might  glory  in  their  shame  ;  but  God 
outwits  him,  for  lie  turneth  the  temptations  of 
Satan  to  sin  to  the  purging  them  from  sin  ;  they 
are  the  black  soap  with  which  God  washeth  His 
saints  white.  — Giirnall,  1617-1679. 

(47S3  )  There  may  some  perplexing  temptations 
befall  ilie  mind  of  a  believer,  or  some  corruption 
take  advantage  to  break  loose  for  a  season,  it  may 
be  for  a  long  season,  w^hich  may  gall  the  soul  with 
its  suggestions,  and  so  trouble,  disturb,  and  unquiet 
it,  as  tliat  it  shall  not  be  able  to  make  a  right  judg- 
ment of  its  grace  and  progress  in  holiness.  A  ship 
may  be  so  tossed  in  a  storm  at  sea  as  that  the  most 
skilful  mariner  may  not  be  able  to  discern  whether 
they  make  any  way  in  their  intended  course  and 
voyage,  whilst  they  are  carried  on  with  success  and 
speed.  In  such  cases,  grace  in  its  exercise  is 
principally  engaged  in  an  opposition  to  its  enemy, 
which  it  has  to  conflict  vviihal,  and  so  its  thriving 
other  ways  is  not  discernible. 

If  it  should  be  inquired  how  we  may  discern 
when  grace  is  exerciseil  and  thrives  in  opposition  to 
corruptions  and  temjitations,  I  say  that,  as  great 
winds  and  storms  sometimes  contribute  to  the 
fruit-beaiing  of  trees  and  plants,  so  do  corruptions 
and  temptations  to  the  fruitfulness  of  grace  and 
holiness.  The  wind  comes  with  violence  on  the 
tree,  ruffles  its  boughs,  it  may  be  breaks  some  of 
them,  beats  off  its  buds,  loosens  and  shakes  its  roots, 
and  threatens  to  cast  the  whole  to  the  ground  ;  but 
by  this  means  tiie  earth  is  opened  and  loosed  about 
it,  and  the  tree  gets  iis  roots  deeper  into  the  earth, 
whereby  it  receives  more  and  Iresh  nourishment, 
which  renders  it  fruitful,  though  it  bring  not  forth 
fruit  visibly,  it  may  be,  till  a  good  while  after.  In 
the  assaults  of  temptations  and  corruptions  the  soul 
is  wofully  ruffled  and  disordered — it.-,  leaves  of  pro- 
fession are  much  blasted,  and  its  begiimings  of  fruit- 
bearing  much  broken  and  retarded  ;  but,  in  the 
meantime,  it  secretly  and  invisibly  casts  out  its 
roots  ol  humility,  self-abasement,  and  mourning,  in 
a  hidden  and  continual  labouring  of  faith  and  love 
after  that  grace,  whereby  huliness  really  increases, 
and  way  made  lor  luture  visible  Iruiifulness. 

— Owen,  161 6-1 683. 

{4784.)  Temptations,  when  we  meet  them  at  first, 
are  as  the  lion  that  roared  upon  Samson  ;  but  if  we 
overcome  them,  the  next  lime  we  see  ihem  we  shall 
find  a  nest  of  honey  within  them. 

-  Bunyan,  1628- 1 688. 

(4785.)  Godly  temptations  cause  the  increase  of 
grace.  Uniis  Christianus  teniptatus  tnilU :  "one 
tempted  Christian  (saith  Luther)  is  worth  a  thou- 
sand." He  grows  more  in  grace:  as  the  bellows 
increaseth  the  flame,  so  the  bellows  of  a  temptation 
doth  increase  the  flame  ot  grace. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

(47S6.)  That  is  precious  faith  which,  like  the 
star,  shines  brightest  in  the  darkest  night.  'Tis 
good  that  our  graces  should  be  brought  to  a  trial ; 
tims  we  have  comfort,  and  the  Gospel  honour. 

—  iValson,  1696. 

(4787.)  Yes  1  multitudinous  temptations  are,  in- 
deed, a  great  dignity,  as  helping  to  assimilate  us  to 


the  image  of  Clirist ;  and  if  we  comport  ourselves 
well  under  them,  a  great  means  of  spiritual  ad- 
vancement. When  a  hard  winter  sets  in,  and  the 
earth  is  covered  with  a  mantle  of  snow,  and  each 
little  knot  and  sjiray  in  the  hedgerow  is  encrusted 
with  icicles,  vegetation  seems  to  be  killed,  and 
every  green  thing  blighted.  But  it  is  not  so.  The 
genial  forces  of  the  earth  are  driven  inward  and 
w  orking  deep  in  her  bosom.  The  snow  mantle  is 
doing  for  her  what  the  fur  mantle  does  for  the 
human  frame, — concentrating  and  preserving  the 
vital  heat  witJiin.  So  it  is  in  temptaiion  :  the  time 
of  temptation  is  a  cheerless  and  dreary  hour,  when 
everything  seems  at  a  standstill,  and  the  spiritual 
pulse  can  no  longer  be  felt,  it  lieats  so  faintly  to  the 
outward  touch;  but  if  the  will  is  faithful  and  true, 
and  the  soul  patient,  the  life  is  rcilly  concentrating 
itself,  and  rallying  its  forces  within.  The  cheerless 
outward  aspect  is  notliing :  there  are  hidden 
agencies  at  work,  which  in  due  time  shall  bring  out 
tlie  full  bloom  and  redolence  of  a  spiritual  spring. 
There  have  been  moderate  Christians,  there  have 
been  shallow  Christians,  without  very  much  tempta- 
tion ;  but  there  never  yet  was  a  saintly  Christian, 
never  yet  one  who  pressed  to  the  higher  sunmiits  of 
the  spiritu.nl  life,  never  one  whose  banner  bore  the 
strange  device,  "  Excelsior,"  who  was  not  made  the 
victim  of  manifold  temptations.  — Goulbum. 

(4788.)  It  is  quite  true  that  even  from  these  temp- 
tations themselves  we  may  derive  good  ;  that  they, 
even  with  issues  sorrowful  for  the  time  as  these,  may 
yet  be  to  us  sources  of  ultimate  strength  ;  that  thus 
it  may  prove  with  us  as  with  the  oyster,  which  stops 
with  a  precious  pearl  the  hole  in  the  shell  which 
was  originally  a  disease;  as  with  the  broken  limb, 
which,  having  been  set,  may  be  stronger  than  if  it 
had  never  been  broken.  It  may  fare  with  us  as 
islanders  of  the  Southern  Ocenn  fancy  that  it  fares 
w  ith  them  ;  counting,  as  they  do,  that  the  strength 
and  valour  of  the  warrior  whom  they  have  slain  in 
battle  passes  into  themselves,  as  their  rightful 
inheritance ;  for  so  it  proves  indeed  with  the 
Christian  man  and  the  temptations  which  he  con- 
quers and  slays  ;  and  this  even  though  the  victory 
may  have  been  won  not  without  hurts  to  himself, 
gotten  in  the  conflict.  The  strength  which  lay  in 
the  temptation  has  shifted  its  seat,  and  passed  ovet 
into  the  man  who  has  overcome  the  temptation. 

—  Trench, 

5.  God  sympatliiseB  with  His  tempted  people. 

(47S9.)  If  God  our  Father  pities  His  children 
under  their  temptations,  and  the  more  they  are 
tempted  by  Satan,  the  more  tliey  are  pitied  by  God, 
then  have  they  no  reason  to  be  discouraged,  what- 
ever their  temptations  be.  How  is  it  with  your- 
selves? li  you  had  two  children,  one  that  is  in 
your  house  with  you  at  home,  and  another  that  is 
in  Spain  or  Italy,  abroad,  exposed  to  great  tempta- 
tions, is  not  your  pity  most  towards  that  child  that 
is  abroad,  and  exposed  to  most  temptations  ?  Your 
love  may  be  expressed  to  him  that  is  at  home  as 
much  another  way,  but  your  ])itying  love  is  most  to 
him  that  is  abroad.  As  in  the  time  ot  a  storm, 
great  rain  or  hail,  if  you  have  one  child  lying  in 
your  bosom,  or  sitting  up  on  your  knee  ;  and 
another  that  is  abroad  in  the  open  field  ;  though 
your  love,  in  one  kind,  may  run  out  to  him  that  is 
upon  your  knee,  yet  does  not  your  pitying  love  run 
out  more  to  him  that  is  abroad  m  the  open  fields  ? 


TEMPTATION. 


(    797    ) 


TEMPTATION. 


Thus  it  is  with  God  :  He  has  two  sorts  of  children, 
some  that  are  exposed  to  more  temptations,  and 
some  that  are  exposed  to  less  ;  though  His  grace 
and  love  may  run  out  more  in  one  icind  to  tliem 
that  are  tempted,  yet  His  pitying  love  runs  out 
most  to  those  that  are  most  tempted.  And  upon 
this  account  you  will  find  in  Scripture,  that  when 
God  saw  any  of  His  children  were  to  go  into  any 
sad  temptation.  He  did  either  immediately  before, 
in,  or  alter,  more  tlian  ordinarily  reveal  Himself  to 
them.  The  more  you  are  tempted  by  Satan,  the 
more  you  are  pitied  liy  tiod.  Why,  then,  should 
you  be  discouia^^ed,  although  your  temptations  be 
never  so  great  ?  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

{4790  )  What  it  was  "  to  be  tempted,"  our  Saviour 
knew  of  old,  by  the  sure,  but  sharp  convictions  of 
His  own  experience  ;  and  therefore  treats  such  as 
are  tempted  with  all  sympathising  tenderness,  that 
fellowship  in  suffering  can  produce  in  a  mind  in- 
finitely merciful  01  itself;  as  it  is  expressly  affirmed  : 
"For  in  tliat  He  llim-self  hath  suffered,  being 
tempted.  He  is  able  to  succour  those  also  who  aie 
temjned."  To  which  we  may  add  these  words, 
"That  He  liveth  for  ever,  to  make  intercession  for 
us."  And  from  both  together  we  have  all  that 
comfort  that  a  boundless  compassion,  supported 
by  an  infinite  power  and  an  endless  duration,  can 
afford. 

And  this  is  that  in;-ahiable  advantage  which  we 
reap  from  having  such  an  "  High  Priest,  as  can  be 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities."  For 
as  he  who  has  broke  a  limb,  liaving  his  choice  of 
several  chirurgeons  equally  skilful,  would  much 
rather  choose  one  who  had  not  only  cured  many 
others,  but  had  also  suffered  the  same  disaster,  and 
felt  the  same  pain  and  anguish  of  a  broken  limb 
himself:  for  that  from  such  a  hand  he  miyht 
rationally  expect  not  only  a  sound,  but  a  gentle 
cure;  a  cure  in  which  compassion  should  combine 
with  skill,  and  make  one  ingredient  in  every 
application. 

In  hke  manner,  it  is  not  so  much  the  greatness, 
the  power,  and  majesty  of  our  Intercessor  that 
should  animate  persons  under  a  temptation  to 
aildress  Him,  as  His  "having  drank  of  the  same 
cup,"  and  passed  through  the  same  furnace  Himself. 
From  whicli  one  endearing  consideration  it  is,  that 
the  prayers  of  such  person^  find  stronger  arguments 
to  enforce  them  in  the  breast  of  Him  who  hears, 
than  they  can  drive  Irom  the  heart  of  him  who 
makes  them.  For  as  it  is  commonly,  and  perhaps 
very  truly,  said,  tiiat  none  knows  the  heart  of  a 
father  but  he  who  has  been  a  father ;  so  none 
knows  what  it  is  to  be  pursued  and  worried  with 
the  restless  buffets  of  an  impure  spirit,  but  he  who 
has  endured  the  same  terrible  conflict  hmiself. 
Christ  has  cndureil  it,  and  His  experience  moves 
His  comp  i;-<ion,  and  His  compassion  engages  His 
prayers:  and  wheie  He  has  promised  us  His 
prayers,  \.  e  may  promise  ourselves  the  success. 

— South,  1 633-1 7 1 6. 

6.  Goi  succours  His  tempted  people. 

(4791.)  Thou  art  weak?  thy  God  is  strong. 
Dost  thou  not  see  the  feeble  child  that  finds  he 
cannot  go  alone,  how  fast  he  clings  to  the  hand  of 
his  mother,  more  trusting  to  her  help  than  to  his 
own  strength  ?  Do  thou  so  to  thy  God  ;  and  say, 
with  the  blessed  Psalmist,  "  Hold  up  my  goings  m 
Thy  paths,  that  my  footsteps  slip  not."     "  Hold 


Thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe.  Uphold  me 
according  to  Thy  word,  that  I  mav  live;  and  let 
me  not  be  ashamed  ot  my  hope."  Peter  was  a  bold 
man,  tbit  durst  step  forth  and  set  his  foot  upon  the 
liquid  mce  of  the  waters  :  but  he  that  ventured  to 
walk  itiere  upon  the  strength  of  his  faith,  when  he 
felt  ^he  stiff  wind  and  saw  the  great  billow,  began 
to  sink  in  his  weakness;  but  no  sooner  had  Jesus 
stretched  forth  His  hand  and  caught  him  than  he 
takes  courage,  and  walks  now  with  the  same  con- 
fidence upon  the  sea  that  he  wont  to  walk  upon  the 
land.  Together  with  a  check,  he  receives  more 
supportation  from  Christ  than  his  own  legs  coula 
afiord  him.  Fear  no  miscarriage  through  thine 
own  weakness  while  thou  art  held  up  by  that 
strong  Helper.  — IJall,  1574-1656. 

(4792.)  If  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  a  succouring 
Christ,  then  why  should  we  yield  unto  our  sins  and 
to  our  temptations  ?  Though  the  siege  be  strait, 
and  violent,  and  fierce,  if  a  city  be  beleagured,  if  it 
have  but  hopes  that  succour  and  relief  will  come,  it 
will  hold  it  out ;  and  if  it  know  for  certain  that 
succour  will  come,  it  will  hold  out  unto  great 
extremity.  There  is  never  a  temptation,  but  you 
are  beleagured  by  it  :  and  when  your  temptation  is 
about  you,  say,  "O  my  soul,  be  quiet,  yield  not; 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  a  succouring  Christ,  and 
succour  Will  come,  and  therefore  hold  out."  Shall 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  succour  me  against  my  temp- 
tations with  His  bosom,  and  shall  1  take  my  sins 
and  temptations  into  mine  own  bosom?  Shall  He 
come  to  succour  me  against  my  sins,  and  shall  I 
succour  my  sins  that  He  comes  against?  What  a 
mighty  argument  is  here  to  keep  us  from  all  our 
sins,  and  from  yielding  to  our  temptations.  Jesus 
Christ  is  a  succouring  Christ  to  tempted  souls. 

— Bridge,  1600- 1 670, 

(4793.)  This  is  no  small  support  that  Christ 
succours  the  tempted.  The  mother  succours  the 
child  most  when  it  is  sick  ;  she  sits  by  its  bedside, 
brings  it  cordials  ;  so  when  a  soul  is  most  assaulted, 
it  shall  be  most  assisted.  — Watson,  1696. 

(4794.)  Christ  succours  His  people  by  taking  off 
the  tempter.  A  sheidierd,  when  the  sheep  begin 
to  straggle,  may  set  the  dog  on  the  sheep  to  bring 
it  nearer  the  fold,  but  then  he  calls  off  the  dog 
again.  — Watson,  1696. 

7.  Temptations  are  of  short  duration. 

(4795.)  Let  this  encourage  thee,  O  Christian,  in 
thy  contlict  with  Satan  ;  the  skirmish  may  be  sharp, 
but  it  cannot  be  long.  Let  him  tempt  thee,  and 
his  wicked  instruments  trounce  thee,  'lis  but  a  little 
while,  and  thou  shalt  be  rid  of  both  their  evil 
neighbourhoods.  The  cloud  while  it  drops  is  roll- 
ing over  thy  head,  and  then  comes  fair  weather 
and  eternal  sunshine  of  glory.  Canst  thou  not 
watch  with  Christ  one  hour  or  two?  keep  the  field 
a  few  days?  II  thou  yield,  thou  art  undone  lor 
ever  ;  persevere  but  while  the  battle  is  over,  and 
thine  enemy  shall  never  rally  more.  Bid  faith  look 
through  the  key-hole  of  the  promise,  and  tell  thee 
what  it  sees  there  laid  up  for  him  that  overcomes  ; 
bid  it  listen  and  tell  thee,  whether  it  cannot  hear 
the  shouts  of  those  crowned  saints,  as  01  those  that 
are  dividing  the  spoil,  and  receiving  the  reward 
of  all  their  services  and  sufferings  here  on  earth  ; 
and  dost  thou  stand  on  the  other  side,  airaid  to  wet 


TEMPTATION. 


(    798    ) 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


thy  foot  with  those  sufferings  and  temptations, 
which  like  a  little  plash  of  water  run  between  thee 
andgluiy?  — Curnall,  1617-1679. 

8.  Temptations  promote  God's  glory. 

(4796.)  He  that  would  know  the  skill  of  the  pilot 
must  not  look  on  him  lying  quietly  in  his  bed  in  a 
safe  port,  nor  sailing  in  a  lair  sea  with  a  prosperous 
wind,  but  when  he  is  in  the  midst  of  syrtes  and 
sands,  tossed  and  endangered  with  boisterous  storms 
and  cruel  tempests — then  to  quit  his  ship  and  self 
out  of  these  peiils,  and  to  biing  it  sale  into  the 
wished-for  haven,  argues  the  greatness  of  his  skill, 
*nd  gains  him  the  reputation  of  a  cunning  mariner. 
And  therefore  the  Lord  brings  us  into  a  sea  of 
miseries,  and  tosses  us  with  the  tempest  of  tempta- 
tions, that  by  well  acquitting  ourselves  in  these 
perils,  our  skill,  wherewith  He  has  endued  us,  may 
be  manifested  and  approved. 

— Dcwname,  1644. 

(4797.)  The  Lord  tries  His  people,  and  by  trial 
discovers  both  His  gifts  to  them  and  the  measure  of 
them,  chiefly  for  His  own  glory.  For  as  the  art  of 
the  shipwright  appears  when  the  ship  brooks  all 
weathers,  continues  firm  and  strong  in  all  storms 
and  tempests,  and  sails  well  with  all  winds  in  every 
sea  ;  and  as  the  cutler's  and  armourer's  skill  is  made 
manifest,  not  whilst  the  sword  hangs  by  the  side  in 
a  velvet  scabbard,  or  whilst  the  armour  is  clean 
kept  and  well  oiled  in  the  armoury,  but  when  the 
one  is  tried  in  fight,  or  by  smiting  the  anvil  or  bar 
of  iron,  and  the  other  in  the  fieUl  with  the  culiver 
or  musket  shot  :  so  the  works  of  God's  Spirit,  the>e 
sanctifying  and  saving  graces,  do  then  most  commend 
their  Workmaster,  v\hen  they  come  to  be  tried  in 
this  sea  of  misery  and  with  these  bullets  of  tempta- 
tion ;  for  if  they  then  hold  out,  and  neither  leak  nor 
sink,  and  being  neither  pierced  nor  much  battered, 
do  preserve  us  from  all  outward  violence  in  this 
combat  against  our  spiritual  enemies,  tlien  the 
wisdom  and  skill,  power  and  bounty  of  God,  who 
both  made  and  gave  them,  clearly  shine  and  mani- 
festly appear.  — Downanie,  1644. 

(479S. )  God  suffers  His  children  to  be  tempted, 
that  so  tho>e  spiritual  graces  which  He  has  bestowed 
upon  them  may  the  more  clearly  shme  to  His  glory. 
For  who  can  know  whether  they  be  God's  golden 
vessels  before  they  be  brought  to  the  touclistone 
of  temptation  ?  Who  could  know  the  faith,  patience, 
and  valour  of  God's  soldiers,  if  they  always  lay 
quietly  in  garrison  and  never  came  to  skirmish? 
Who  could  leel  the  odoriferous  smell  of  these 
aromalical  spices,  if  they  were  not  pounded  and 
bruised  in  the  mortar  ol  afflictions?  Who  would 
have  discerned  Abraham's  faith,  Job's  patience, 
Paul's  couiaye  and  constancy,  if  tliey  had  never 
been  tempted,  which  now,  to  the  glory  of  God, 
shine  to  all  the  world?  — Dncnavie,  1644. 

(4799.)  "Let  no  man,  when  he  is  tempted,  say, 
I  am  tempted  of  God  :  for  God  cannot  l)e  tempted 
of  evil  ;  neither  tempteth  He  any  man."  God 
tempteth  thee  not,  my  son  :  yet  know  that  being 
His,  thou  couldst  not  be  tempted  without  Him  ; 
but  permitting  and  ordering  that  temptation  to  His 
own  glory  and  thy  good.  That  grace  which  thy 
God  hath  given  thee  He  will  have  thus  exercised, 
thus  manifested.  So  we  have  known  some  indul- 
gent lather,  who,  being  assured  of  the  skill  and 
valour  of  his  dear  son,  puts  him  upon  tiltings,  and 


barriers,  and  public  duels  ;  and  looks  on  with  con- 
tentment, as  well  knowing  that  he  will  come  off 
with  honour.  How  had  we  known  the  admirable 
continency  of  good  Joseph  if  he  had  not  been 
strongly  solicited  by  a  wanton  mistress?  How  had 
we  known  David's  valour  if  the  Philistines  had  not 
had  a  giantly  challenger  to  encounter  him  ?  How 
had  we  known  tlie  invincible  piety  of  the  three 
children  if  there  had  not  been  a  furnace  to  try 
them  ?  or  of  Daniel  if  there  hid  been  no  lions  to 
accompany  him?  Be  confident,  thy  glory  shall  be 
accortling  to  the  propoition  of  thy  trial  :  neither 
couldst  thou  ever  be  so  happy,  if  thou  hadst  not 
been  beholden  to  temptations. 

—I/all,  1574-1656. 

(4800.)  "The  Lord  knows  them  that  are  His, 
and  no  weapon  formed  against  them  can  prosper." 
That  this  may  api)ear  with  the  fullest  evidence, 
.Satan  is  alloweil  to  assnult  them.  We  handle 
vessels  of  glass  or  china  with  caution,  and  endea- 
vour to  preserve  them  from  falls  and  blows, 
because  we  know  they  are  easily  broken.  But  if 
a  man  had  the  art  of  mnking  glass  malleable,  and, 
like  iron,  capable  of  bearing  the  stroke  of  a  hammer 
without  breaking,  it  is  probable  that  instead  of 
locking  it  carefully  up,  he  would  rather,  for  the 
commendation  of  his  skill,  permit  many  to  attempt 
to  break  it,  when  he  knew  their  attempts  would  be 
in  vain.  Believers  are  compared  to  earthen  vessc.s, 
liable  in  tliemselves  to  be  destroyed  by  a  small 
blow  ;  but  they  are  so  strengthened  and  tempered 
by  the  power  and  supply  of  divine  grace,  that  the 
fiercest  efforts  of  their  fiercest  enemies  against 
them  may  be  compared  to  the  dashing  of  waves 
against  a  rock.  And  that  this  may  be  known  and 
noticed,  they  are  exposed  to  many  trials  ;  but  the 
united  and  repeated  assaults  of  the  men  of  tlie 
world,  and  the  powers  ol  darkness,  afford  but  the 
more  incontestible  demonstration,  that  the  Lord  is 
with  them  of  a  truth,  and  that  His  strength  is  made 
perfect  in  their  weakness.  -Surely  this  tnought,  my 
Iriend,  will  afford  you  cuiisolaiion  ;  and  you  will  be 
content  to  suffer,  if  God  may  be  glorified  by  you 
and  in  you.  — Neivton,  1725- 1 807. 

XI.    DUTIES  OF  THE  TEMPTED. 

1.  They  are  not  to  permit  temptation  to  cauee 
tliem  to  doubt  tlieir  sonsMp. 

(4801.)  Suppose  that  your  father  should  leave 
you  a  great  estate,  and  give  you  good  evidences  ; 
and  a  cunning  lawyer  conies  and  writes  upon  the 
back  side  of  your  evidence,  Naught,  naught  :  will 
ye  because  of  that,  join  with  him  and  say  that 
your  father  hath  given  you  nothing?  Christ  hath 
given  you  a  great  estate  of  mercy,  and  hath  given 
you  good  eviilenres  for  it  ;  and  Satan  now  comes 
and  writes  upon  the  back  side  of  your  evidence,  and 
says,  This  is  naught.  Will  you  join  with  him 
against  God  and  Christ?  what  wrong  is  this  to  His 
love  ?  think  of  it,  1  pray,  you  that  are  the  saints 
and  people  of  God.  13e  humbled  under  every 
temptation,  though  it  be  never  so  small  ;  but  never 
question  your  condition,  though  your  temptation  be 
never  so  great.  — Bridge,  iftOO-lt^O. 

(4802.)  But  suppose  there  seem  to  be  no  obe- 
dience, neither  in  your  own  nor  in  another's  eye  j 
yet  the  root  of  the  matter  may  be  in  you.  Ye  know 
how  it  is  with  the  fcsh  that  are  in  tne  water  in  a 


TEMPT  A  TION. 


(    799    ) 


TRINITY.     THE 


windy  and  a  stormy  day.  Ye  put  many  fish  into 
a  pond,  ana  in  a  fair  sunshiny  clay  ye  see  them 
playing  upon  the  water,  upon  the  uppermost  part 
of  the  water  ;  but  in  a  rainy  and  stormy  clay  ye  see 
none  of  them  there,  but  yet  you  say  they  are  all 
there,  they  are  in  the  water,  they  are  at  the  bottom, 
though  you  see  them  not.  And  so,  it  may  be,  in 
this  stormy  time  of  temptation,  your  obediLMice  and 
profiiinL;  is  not  seen,  but  it  may  be  there  as  heretofore. 
Satan  does  never  more  press  a  child  of  God  to  try 
himself  by  signs  of  grace  drawn  from  liis  own  con- 
versation than  in  the  lime  of  temptation. 

—  Bridge,  1600-1670. 

(4S03.)  God  had  one  Son  without  sin  ;  but  He 
has  no  son  without  temptation.  — Spurgeon. 

2.  More  earnest  prayer. 

(4804.)  If  temptation  do  arise,  be  sure  that  you 
make  some  improvement  of  il  for  the  better,  if  an 
enemy  come  and  make  an  assault  against  one  of 
your  garrison  towns,  and  he  goes  away  and  gets  no 
nurt,  lie  is  encouraged  and  invited  to  come  again  ; 
for,  says  he,  '"  Tiiough  I  did  not  carry  tlie  town,  yet 
1  lost  nothing."  Hut  now,  if  upon  his  assault  he 
loses  many  men  and  his  ordnance  ;  '*  I  will  come 
no  more  there,"  says  he,  "  for  tliere  I  had  such  and 
mch  a  great  loss."  Thus  it  is  with  Satan  when  he 
comes  before  a  soul  with  his  temptations  :  "There 
is  a  soul,"  says  lie,  "  I  came  before  him  with  my 
temptations,  and  (houi;h,  indeed,  I  did  not  get  the 
thing  I  would,  yet  1  lost  nothing,  and  therefore  I  will 
go  again.  Hut  there  is  a  soul,  1  came  before  him  with 
my  temptations,  and  1  confess  1  lost  much  :  I  tempted 
and  he  prayed,  and  the  more  I  templed  the  more 
he  prayed,  and  the  nnue  I  tempted  stdl,  the  more 
he  did  go  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  tlierefore  I  will  tempt 
him  no  more."  — Bridge,  1600-1670. 

8.  Confidence  In  the  sufficiency  of  divine  grace. 

(4805.)  The  torchlight  of  faith  shall  be  kept 
burning,  notwithstanding  the  winds  of  temptation 
continue  blowing.  — Watson,  1696. 

XII.  DELIVERAt^CE   FROM    TEMPTATION, 
1.  Is  an  undeserved  mercy. 

(4806.)  God  promises  deliverance  out  of  tempta- 
tion to  the  godly,  and  yet  tlieir  godliness  is  not  the 
cause  of  this  deiivcrance,  any  more  than  of  God's 
making  such  a  promise.  It  is  indeed  ihe  qualihca- 
tion  of  the  person  who  is  to  be  delivered,;  so  that 
without  it  the  deliverance  (upon  a  federal  account, 
as  was  said  before  would  not  be  ;  but  still  the  cause 
of  it  is  quite  anoiher  tiling. 

A  prince,  for  instance,  has  a  hundred  of  his 
subjecis  in  captivity,  and  makes  a  declaration  that 
he  will  redeem  so  many  of  them  as  are  of  such  a 
certain  age,  taking  no  notice  of  the  rest.  Now,  in 
this  case,  we  cannot  say  that  their  being  of  such  an 
age  was  the  tust  impulsive  cause  inducing  their 
prince  to  redeem  them  ;  but  his  own  good  pleasure, 
which  first  made  him  take  up  a  resolution  to  redeem 
such  persons,  and  to  make  this  the  condition  of  it. 
Their  being  indeed  ol  such  an  age  is  the  qualifying 
condition,  rendering  tiiem  the  proper  objects  of  such 
a  redemption  ;  so  that  such,  and  none  but  such,  are 
redeemed  :  but  the  cause  of  that  redemption  is  not, 
that  being  (as  we  have  shown)  to  be  sought  for  else- 
where. 


Now  the  case  is  niuch  the  same,  w-here  God 
vouchsafes  to  deliver  men  out  of  temptation. 
Whence  is  it,  that,  upon  such  trials  befalling  men, 
some  few  escape,  and  in  the  issue  are  brought  off 
without  ruin,  while  "  thousands  fall  ai  their  right 
hand  and  at  their  left  "?  Is  it  the  extreme  misery 
of  our  condition  moving  God's  compassion,  or  the 
worthiness  of  their  persons  requiring  this  of  His 
justice,  which  causes  their  deliverance  ?  No;  these 
are  not,  cannot  be  the  cause,  for  the  reasons  before 
mentioned  ;  they  are  indeed  the  proper  qualifica- 
tions rendering  them  fit  to  be  delivered,  but  the  free 
mercy  or  good  pleasure  of  God  is  the  main,  leading, 
impulsive  cause  that  actually  they  are  delivered. 

The  thing,  therefore,  which  is  eminent  from  first 
to  last  in  the  whole  transaction  is  mercy  ;  mercy, 
which  is  its  own  argument  ;  mercy,  the  first  antl 
grand  motive  of  which  is  itself.  For  if  it  were  not 
so,  wliat  could  there  be  in  a  sinful,  pollizted  creature 
to  engage  it  ?  There  is  indeed  enough  to  need,  but 
nothing  to  deserve  it.  But  the  divine  ccjmpassion, 
wheresoever  it  fixes,  removes  all  obstacles,  answers 
all  objections,  and  needs  no  other  reason  of  its 
actings,  but  its  own  sovereign,  absolute,  unaccount- 
able freedom.  — South,  1633-1716. 

XIII.  IMMUNITY  FROM  TEMPTATION, 

1.  How  it  is  to  be  secured. 

(l.)  By  filling  the  heart  with  the  thoughts  of  tht 
love  of  Christ. 

(4807.)  Beloved  in  the  Lord,  labowr  to  keep  the 
sense  of  His  love  warm  upon  your  hearts.  Look 
as  it  is  with  water  in  winter  ;  so  with  your  hearts 
in  this  respect  :  so  long  as  the  fire  is  under  the 
water,  and  the  water  is  hot,  it  freezes  not  ;  but 
when  the  heat  goes  off,  and  the  water  is  cold, 
then  ice  comes  upon  it.  And  so  long  as  your 
heart  is  kept  up  in  the  sense  of  Christ's  love, 
and  warm  with  Christ's  love ;  so  long  the  ice 
comes  not,  the  temptation  comes  not.  The  slum- 
ber of  grace  is  a  preparation  to  temptation. 

— Bridge.,  1 600- 1 670. 

(2.)  By  growth  in  grace, 

(4808.)  Gardeners  know  that  fumigations  of 
tobacco  are  inadequate  devices  of  getting  rid  of 
aphides  that  cluster  on  plants.  The  truest  remedy 
for  these  things  is  to  make  the  plant  outgrow 
them.  Give  it  nourishment  so  that  it  shall  grow 
faster  than  they  can  take  possession  of  it,  and 
its  growth  will  deliver  it  from  all  insect  invasion. 
Aiid  there  are  ten  thousand  insect,  pestiferous 
temptations,  that  creep  in  and  trouble  the  soul, 
whicli  can  be  most  easily  overcome  by  moral 
growth.  Mould  and  mildew  collect  on  plants 
where  there  is  no  vigour  and  no  giowth,  but 
where  there  is  vigour  and  wholesome  growth  the 
plant  goes  bravely  on  to  blossom  and  fruit. 

— Beecher, 


TRINITY,   THE. 

1.  An  object  of  faith. 

(4809.)  "  Baptizing  them  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  The 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  ;  there  are  three  dis- 
tinct persons  :  in  the  Name,  not  names  ;  there  is 


TRINITY.     THE 


(    800    ) 


TRINITY.     THE 


one  essence.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  called  the  finger 
of  God,  Clirist  ihe  hand  of  the  Father  :  now,  as  the 
finger  is  in  ihe  hand,  and  the  hand  on  the  body  ;  so 
of  one  and  llie  same  most  pure  and  simple  essence 
is  the  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  But  as  it  was 
reported  of  Alanus,  when  he  promised  his  auditory 
to  discourse  the  next  Sunday  more  clearly  of  the 
Trinity,  and  to  make  plain  that  mystery  ;  while  he 
was  studying  the  point  by  the  sea-siiie,  he  spied  a 
boy  very  busy  with  a  little  spoon,  trudging  often 
between  the  sea  and  a  small  hole  he  had  digged  in 
the  ground.  Alanus  asked  him  what  he  meant. 
The  boy  answered,  I  intend  to  bring  all  the  sea  into 
this  pit.  Alanus  replies,  Why  doit  thou  attempt 
such  impossibilities,  and  misspend  thy  time  ?  The 
boy  answers,  Su  dost  thou,  Alanus  :  I  shall  as 
soon  bring  all  the  sea  into  this  hole,  as  thou  bring 
all  the  knowledge  of  the  Trinity  into  thy  head. 
All  is  equally  possible  :  we  have  begun  together, 
we  shall  finish  together  ;  saving  o(  the  two  my 
labour  hath  more  hojie  and  possibility  of  taking 
effect.  I  conclude  with,  It  is  rashness  to  search, 
godliness  to  believe,  safeness  to  preach,  and  eternal 
blessedness  to  know  the  Trinity  :  yet  let  us  know  to 
praise  the  Trinity  in  the  words  of  our  Church  ; 
"Glory  be  to  the  Father,  to  the  Son,  and  to  the 
Holy  Ghost."  And  let  all  answer,  "As  it  was  in 
the  beginning,  is  now,  and  ever  shall  b'e,  world  with- 
out end.     Amen."  — Adams,  1653. 

(4810.)  The  Trinity  is  purely  an  object  of  faith, 
the  plumb-line  of  reason  is  loo  shoit  to  fathom  this 
mystery ;  but  where  reason  cannot  wade,  there 
faith  must  swim.  There  are  some  truths  in  religion 
may  be  demonstrated  by  reason  ;  as  that  there  is  a 
God  :  but  the  Trinity  of  ]ier.sons  in  the  unity  of 
essence  is  wholly  supernatural,  and  must  be  believed 
by  faith.  This  sacred  doctrine,  though  it  be  not 
against  reason,  yet  it  is  above  reason. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

i.  It  1b  Incomprehensible  by  us. 

(481 1.)  As  to  the  point  of  Divine  subsistence, 
Jehovah  Elohim,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  : 
three  persons,  but  one  God  ;  or  in  Leo's  expression 
— one  God  without  division  in  a  Trinity  of  persons, 
and  tJiree  persons  wiihout  confusion  in  an  unity  of 
essence — it  i*  a  discovery  altogether  supernatural. 
Yea,  nature  is  so  far  from  finding  it  out,  that  now 
when  Scripture  has  revealed  it,  she  cannot  by  all 
the  help  of  art  comprehend,  or  set  it  forth  as  she 
does  other  things  :  grammar  itself  wanting  proper 
and  full  words  whereby  to  express  ;  logic  strong 
ciemonstrations  whereby  to  prove  ;  and  rhetoric  apt 
similitudes  whereby  to  clear  so  mysterious  a  truth. 
The  terms  essence,  persons.  Trinity,  generation, 
procession,  and  such  like,  which  are  commonly 
made  use  of  for  want  of  better,  have  been  and  will 
be  cavilled  at  as  short  of  fully  reaching  the  mystery 
in  all  its  dimensions. 

Of  the  similitudes  usually  brought  for  its  illustra- 
tion that  whicli  Hilary  said  is  most  true.  "They 
may  gratify  the  understanding  of  man,  but  none  of 
them  exactly  suit  with  the  nature  of  God."  For 
example,  not  that  of  a  root,  a  trunk,  and  a  branch, 
the  trunk  proceeding  from  the  root,  the  branch 
irom  both,  yet  but  one  tree ;  because  a  root  may  for 
some  lime  be  without  a  trunk,  and  a  trunk  without 
a  branch  ;  but  God  the  Father  never  was  without 
His  Son,  nor  the  P'ather  and  Son  without  their  co- 


eternal  Spirit.  Neither  that  of  a  crystal  ball  held 
in  a  river  on  a  sunshiny  day,  in  which  case  hhere 
would  be  a  sun  in  the  firmament,  begetting  another 
sun  upon  the  crystal  ball,  and  a  third  yun  proceed- 
ing from  both  the  former,  appearing  .n  the  surface 
of  the  water,  yet  but  one  sun  on  all ;  for  in  this 
comparison  two  of  the  suns  arf  Dut  imaginary,  none 
real  save  that  in  heaven;  whereas  the  Father,  Woni, 
and  Spirit  are  distinct  Persons  indeed,  but  each  of 
them  truly  and  really  God. 

Well,  therefore,  may  rhetoricians  say,  "  It  is  not 
in  us  and  in  our  similitudes  fully  to  clear  this  high 
point."  Logicians  also,  "It  is  not  in  us  and  in  our 
demonstrations  fully  to  prove  it."  For  however 
reason  be  able  from  the  creatures  to  demonstrate  a 
Godhead,  yet  it  cannot  from  thence  a  Trinity,  no 
more  than  he  who  looks  upon  a  curious  picture  can 
tell  whether  it  was  drawn  by  an  Englishman  or  an 
Italian,  only  that  the  piece  had  an  artificer,  and 
such  an  one  as  was  a  prime  master  in  that  faculty  ; 
because  the  limner  drew  it  as  he  was  an  artist,  not 
as  one  of  this  or  that  nation.  So  the  world  is  a 
production  of  that  essence  which  is  common  to  all 
Three,  not  any  personal  emanation  from  this  or  that 
subsistent,  which  is  the  reason  why  a  Deity  may  be 
inferred  from  thence,  but  not  any  distinction  at 
Persons,  much  less  the  determinate  number  of  a 
Trinity.  The  doctrine  whereof  is  like  a  temple 
filled  with  smoke,  such  smoke  as  not  only  hinders 
the  view  of  the  quickest  eye,  but  hurts  the  sight  of 
such  as  dare  with  undue  curiosity  pry  into  it.  A 
mystery  which  my  faith  embraces  as  revealed  in  the 
Word,  but  my  renson  cannot  fatiiom.  Whilst 
others  run  themselves  on  ground,  and  dispute  it  till 
their  understanding  be  nonplussed,  may  I  be 
enabled  to  believe  what  Scripture  testifies  !  Verily 
this  light  is  dazzling,  and  our  eyes  are  weak.  It  is 
a  case  wherein  the  wisest  clerks  are  punies,  and  the 
ablest  orators  infants.  Yet  is  the  mystery  itself 
written  in  Scripture  as  it  were  with  the  sunbeams. 
— Arrowsmith,  1602- 1659. 

(4812.)  Our  narrow  thoughts  can  no  more  com- 
prehend the  Trinity  in  Unity,  than  a  little  nutshell 
will  hold  all  the  water  in  the  sea. 

—  Watson,  1696. 

3.  Yet  It  is  not  incredible.  [See  also  §§  851,  8sa, 
2229-2240.] 

(4813.)  Respecting  the  doctrines  to  be  believed, 
it  is  objected  that  they  are  mysteriotts ;  they  relate 
to  persons  and  things  in  another  world,  which  are 
therefore  hidden  from  us.  What,  then,  is  to  be 
done?  Wiiy,  certainly,  we  must  believe  the  account 
which  God,  by  His  prophets  and  apostles,  has  been 
pleased  to  give  us  :  and  we  must  form  our  notions 
of  them,  as  well  as  we  can,  by  comparison  with 
those  things  wiiich  are  the  objects  of  our  senses. 
Our  stale,  with  regard  to  God  and  the  glories 
of  His  heavenly  kingdom,  is  exactly  like  the  state 
of  a  blind  man,  with  regard  to  the  sun  and  the 
light  thereof.  He  cannot  see  the  sun,  or  the 
light  that  issues  from  it;  yet  he  would  be  unrea- 
soiial  le  should  he  refuse  to  believe  what  his  friends, 
who  do  see  it,  tell  him  concerning  it ;  though,  alter 
all,  they  can  give  him  but  a  very  poor,  im[ierfect 
idea  of  it.  If  it  pleased  God  to  open  his  eyes,  and 
bestow  on  him  the  blessing  of  sight,  he  would 
know  more  of  the  matter  in  one  single  moment, 
than  description,  study,  and  meditation  could  have 


TRINITY.     THE 


(    8or     ) 


TRINITY.     THE 


taught  him  in  a  hundred  years,  or  a  thousand  years, 
or  ten  thousand  years.  Such  is  our  case.  We 
cannot  see  God  ;  we  cannot  see  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  ;  we  cannot  see  how 
they  are  three,  and  how  they  are  one.  But  shall 
«e  therefore,  in  opposition  to  the  authority  and 
■Word  of  God  Himself,  deny  that  they  are  so?  We 
may  reason  and  dispute  upon  the  subject  for  ages  : 
but  in  that  instant,  when  we  are  admitted  to  His 
presence,  and  "see  Him  as  He  is,"  every  doubt 
and  difficulty  will  vanish  at  once  ;  and  we  shall 
know — how  little  we  did  know,  or  possibly  could 
know  before. 

Tell  a  blind  man  your  sight  can  travel  over  the 
space  of  one  hundred  millions  of  miles  as  soon  a» 
it  can  move  the  distance  of  ten  yards,  how  full 
of  absurdity,  contradiction,  and  impossibility  must 
this  assertion  appear  to  him,  who  can  perceive  of 
motion  only  in  slow  succession  !  yet  it  is  a  certain 
truth  ;  for  let  a  person  be  led  forth,  in  a  clear  niglit, 
with  his  eyes  closed  ;  on  opening  them  he  will  see 
the  remotest  star  in  the  firmament  that  can  be  seen 
at  all  as  soon  as  he  will  see  a  candle  at  the  dis- 
tance only  of  a  few  yards  from  him. 

This  instance  may  serve  to  show  how  very  ill 
qualified  we  are  to  dispute  with  our  Maker  concern- 
ing His  own  natuie  and  existence,  and  the  things 
of  another  and  invisible  world.  Of  the  trutii  of 
revelation  we  have  the  most  decisive  evidence,  of 
the  senses,  in  the  miracles  wrought  by  Christ  and 
His  apostles,  of  which  the  eyes  and  ears  of  men 
were  sufficient  judges.  Knowing,  therefore,  as- 
suredly, lliat  God  hath  spoken,  and  giving  diligent 
attention  to  that  which  He  hatli  spoken,  it  is  our 
pan,  at  present,  to  believe  what  we  shall  one  day 
be  permitted  to  see.  — home,  1 730-1 792. 

(4814.)  A  distinction  in  the  divine  nature,  incon- 
ceivable by  us  but  plainly  revealed  in  terms,  must 
be  admitted  upon  tiie  testimony  and  authority  of 
Him  who  alone  can  instruct  us  in  what  we  are  con- 
cerned to  know  of  His  adorable  essence.  "There 
are  tiiree  that  bear  record  in  heaven,  the  Father, 
the  Word,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  these  three  are 
one"  (i  John  v.  7).  To  each  of  these  three  the 
perfections  of  Ueity  are  attributed  and  ascribed 
in  various  parts  of  Scripture.  Each  of  them  there- 
fore is  God  ;  and  yet  we  are  su«-e,  both  from  Sciip- 
ture  and  leason,  there  is,  there  can  be,  but  one 
God.  Thus  far  we  can  go  salely  ;  and  that  we  can 
gonofaither,  tliat  our  thoughts  are  lost  and  over- 
whelmed, if  we  attempt  to  represent  to  ourselves 
how  or  in  what  manner  three  are  one,  and  one  are 
three,  may  be  easily  accounted  for,  if  any  just  reason 
can  be  given  why  a  worm  cannot  comprehend  in- 
finity. Let  us  tirst,  if  we  can,  account  for  the 
nature,  essence,  and  properties  of  the  things  with 
which,  as  to  their  ellects,  we  are  familiarly  ac- 
quainted. Let  us  explain  the  growth  of  a  blade  of 
grass,  or  the  virtues  of  the  loadstone.  Till  we  are 
able  to  do  this,  it  becomes  us  to  lay  our  hands  upon 
our  mouths,  and  our  mouths  in  the  dust. 

— Newton,  1 725-1807. 

t.  Tlie  dlfflctUty  of  defining  "  Unity." 
(4815.)  The  word  "unity"  is  ambiguous  and 
difficult  to  define.  It  may  mean  merely  the  nume- 
rical basis  of  calculation ;  the  contrast  between 
one  thing  and  two  01  more  things  of  the  same  kind. 
But  ilused  in  the  sense  of  a  unit,  it  is  clear  that 


every  one  thing  is  made  up  of  many  parts,  possesses 
many  qualities,  stands  in  various  relations,  and 
though  in  itself  only  one  thing,  is  also  a  part  o( 
many  other  things.  By  unity  is  often  meant  more 
than  the  antithesis  of  many.  Though  the  unity  of 
God  means  that  there  is  only  one  God,  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  claims  of  lords  many  and  gods  many, 
yet  the  piira-e  implies  that  whatever  internal  dis- 
tinctions there  may  be  in  the  essence  of  the  Most 
High,  that  e-sence  is  one  essence — a  whole,  a  unity 
in  itself.  Unity  is  individuality  in  spite  of  the 
recognitions  of  the  multiplicity  of  elements  of  which 
it  is  compounded.  Thus  a  crystal  of  quartz  of  any 
magnitude  is  a  unity  distinct  from  all  otlier  crystals. 
It  is  one  thing,  as  distinct  from  the  hand  that  holds 
it,  or  the  sun  that  shines  upon  it.  It  possesses  a 
multitude  of  curious  properties  as  long  as  it  remains 
that  one  thing,  pure  and  simple,  undivided,  and 
unanalysed.  But  let  me  dash  it  on  a  rock  and 
break  it  into  a  thousand  pieces,  large  and  small, 
and  it  might  soon  be  proved  that  every  fragment, 
even  to  the  minutest  dust  of  quartz  adhering  to  each 
one  of  the  particles,  was  preserving  the  same 
peculiar  shape  as  the  original  unbroken  crystal,  and 
possessed  in  its  measure  all  its  properties.  Yet 
these  fragments,  though  many,  previously  formed 
one  whole.  Consider,  again,  a  tree  or  plant  ;  its 
root  and  stem,  its  branches  and  leaves,  and  flowers 
and  seed,  form  one  whole  of  mysterious  beauty  ;  and 
tliough  each  twig  and  leaflet  is  a  perfect  creation, 
having  an  independent  life  in  itself,  yet  the  many 
pans  do  not  fail  to  form  a  well-appreciated  and 
comprehended  unity.  Further,  playing  in  the 
branches  of  this  tree  there  is  a  world  of  more  mys- 
terious life.  Every  leaf  has  its  colony  of  insects, 
every  bough  its  parasitical  growth  ;  the  bees  are 
humming  in  its  fragrant  flowers,  and  the  birds  are 
building  their  nests  in  its  branches.  But  each 
lichen  and  moss,  each  insect  and  animalcule,  each 
bee  and  bird,  is  as  wonderful  in  its  mysterious  com- 
bination of  many  opposites,  and  subordinate  and 
dependent  structures,  and  wondrous  balancing  of 
powers,  as  was  the  forest  tree  itself.  But  while  I 
am  considering  crystal  and  tree,  and  insect  and  bird, 
I  find  that  1  myself  am  just  such  a  combination  of 
many  parts,  faculties,  passions,  and  relations,  each 
of  which  is  sufirciently  individual,  and  yet  the  whole 
of  which  seem  all  but  indispensable  to  constitute  my 
self-conscious  unity.  I  am  a  strange  combination 
of  body,  soul,  and  spirit ;  and  yet  I  am  reckoned  as 
one  man  in  this  world  of  ours.  My  senses,  reflec- 
tions, and  passions,  my  body,  understanding,  and 
will,  seem  at  times  capable  of  individualisation, 
and  to  be  unities  in  themselves ;  but  it  is  the 
mutual  relation  and  dependence  of  the  parts  that 
constitute  the  u\.5ty  of  the  whole. 

Witii  this  self-consciousness  of  multiplicity  in 
unity  to  help  me,  the  revelation  that  the  blessed 
God  has  made  of  His  threefold  nature  is  less  per- 
plexing than  it  otherwise  would  be.  The  unity  of 
the  Divine  nature,  like  the  unity  of  all  other  things, 
is  a  unity  consistent  with  the  self-inclusions  of 
various  constituent  elements.  In  the  case  of  the 
Divine  Being,  the  unity  and  the  muitiplici'y  are 
more  expressly  intimated  and  maintained  than  in 
any  other  unity,  so  that  we  actually  use  words 
which  seem  almost  self-contradictory  in  order 
adequately  to  express  that  wondrous  "  unity  in 
Trinity"  which  "neither  divides  the  substance  not 
confounds  the  persons"  of  the  adorable  Godhead. 

— Reynolds, 
3E 


TRINITY.     THE 


(    802    ) 


TRINITY.     THE 


B.  Various  attempts  to  Illustrate  the  mystery 
of  the  Trinity.* 

(4S16.)  That  Trinity  is  One  God,  not  so  that 
the  Father  be  the  same  Person,  who  is  also  tlie 
Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost  ;  but  tliai  llie  Father  be 
the  Father,  and  the  Son  be  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  be  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  this  Trinity  one 
God,  as  it  is  written,  "Hear,  O  Israel,  tlie  Lord 
your  God  is  One  God." 

Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  these  things  are  said  con- 
cerning an  incflable  nature,  when  even  in  those  very 
things  which  we  see  with  the  eyes  of  the  body,  and 
jutlge  of  by  the  sense  of  the  body,  some  such  thing 
hai>pens. 

For  when  as  being  asked  concerning  the  fountain, 
we  cannot  say  thit  it  is  itself  the  river  ;  nor,  being 
asked  concerning  »he  river,  can  we  call  it  the  foun- 
tain ;  and  again,  the  draught  wliich  is  of  the 
fountain  or  river,  we  can  neither  call  the  river  nor 
the  fountain.  Yet  in  this  trinity,  we  use  the  word 
"  waters,"  and  when  the  question  is  put  concerning 
such,  we  answer  of  each,  W  ater.  For,  if  1  ask 
whether  it  be  water  in  the  fountain,  it  is  answered. 
Water  :  and  if  we  ask  whether  it  be  water  in  the 
river,  there  is  no  other  answer  made,  and  in  that 
draught  no  other  answer  will  be  possible  ;  and  yet 
we  call  them  not  three  waters,  but  one. 

Certainly,  good  heed  must  be  taken,  that  no  one 
so  think  of  the  ineffable  substance  of  that  Majesty 
as  of  a  visible  and  corporeal  fountain,  or  river,  or 
drauglit.  For  in  these  the  wa'.er,  which  is  now  in 
the  fountain,  goes  forth  into  the  river,  and  abides 
not  in  itself ;  and,  when  it  passes  from  the  river,  or 
from  the  fountain,  into  the  draught,  it  abides  not 
there,  whence  it  is  taken.  Tlierefore  it  may  be 
that  the  same  water  belongs  at  one  time  to  the 
term  fountain,  at  another  to  the  term  river,  at 
another  to  the  term  draught  :  whereas  in  that 
Trinity  we  said,  that  it  cannot  be  that  the  Father 
at  one  time  is  tlie  Son,  at  another  the  Holy  Ghost  : 
as  in  a  tree,  the  root  is  nothing  else  than  the  root, 
nor  the  trunk  anything  else  than  the  trunk,  nor  the 
boughs  anything  else  than  the  boughs  ;  for  what  is 
called  root,  that  cannot  be  called  trunk  and  boughs  ; 
nor  can  that  wood  which  pertains  to  the  root  by  any 
passage  be  at  one  time  in  the  rout,  at  another  in 
the  trunk,  at  another  in  the  branches  ;  that  rule  of 
the  name  remaining,  that  the  root  is  rvood,  and  the 
•trunk  wood,  and  the  boughs  wood  ;  and  yet  they 
are  not  called  three  woods,  but  one  wood. 

Or,  if  tliese  have  some  dissimilitude,  so  that  they 
may  be  not  absurdly  called  three  woods,  by  reason 
of  difiereiice  in  solidity,  yet  that  other  at  any  rate 
all  allow,  if  from  out  one  fountain  three  cups  be 
filled,  that  they  may  be  called  three  cups,  but  can- 
not be  called  three  waters,  but  altogetiier  one 
water  ;  although  when  asked  concerning  each 
several  cup,  )ou  answer  that  in  any  one  of  them 
is  water  ;  although  there  in  ihis  case  take  place  no 
passage,  such  as  we  were  just  now  speaking  of, 
from  the  fountain  into  the  river. 


But  these  instances  in  bodies  have  been  given, 
not  by  reason  of  their  likeness  to  that  Divine  stature, 
but  because  of  the  unity  even  in  things  visible,  that 
it  might  be  understood  to  be  jiossible  that  some  three 
things,  not  oidy  singly,  but  also  together,  may  have 
one  single  name  ;  ,and  that  no  one  wonder,  or 
think  it  absurd,  that  we  call  the  Father  God,  the 
Son  God,  the  Holy  Ghost  God,  and  yet  that  we  wor- 
ship not  three  Gods  in  that  'J'linity,  but  One  God, 
and  One  Substance.  — Augustine,  353-429. 

(4817.)  Let  no  man  deceive  himself  so  as  to  say 
or  to  believe  that  there  are  three  Gods,  or  that  any 
person  in  the  Holy  Trinity  is  less  niigluy  than 
other.  Each  of  the  three  is  God,  yet  they  are  all 
one  God  ;  for  they  have  all  one  nature,  and  one 
Godhead,  and  one  substance,  and  one  counsel,  and 
one  work,  and  one  majesty,  nnd  like  glory,  and 
co-eternal  rule.  ISut  the  Son  alone  was  incarnate 
and  born  to  man  of  the  holy  maiden  Mary.  The 
Father  was  not  invested  with  liuman  natuie,  but 
yet  He  sent  His  Son  for  our  redem|ition,  and  was 
ever  with  Him,  both  in  iife  and  in  passion,  and  at 
His  resurrection,  and  at  His  ascension.  Also  all 
the  Church  of  God  confesses,  according  to  true 
faith,  that  Christ  was  boin  of  the  pure  maiden 
Mary,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Yet  is  not  the 
Holy  Ghost  the  Father  of  Christ ;  never  shall  any 
Christian  man  beheve  that  :  but  the  Holy  Ghost 
is  the  Will  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  ;  there- 
fore it  is  very  lightly  written  in  our  belief,  that 
Christ's  humanity  was  accomplished  by  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

Behold  the  sun  with  attention,  in  which  there 
is  heat  and  brightness  ;  but  the  heat  dries,  and  the 
brightness  gives  light.  The  heat  does  one  thing, 
and  the  brightness  another  ;  and  though  they 
cannot  be  separated,  the  heating,  nevertheless, 
belongs  to  the  heat,  and  the  giving  light  to  the 
brigluness.  In  like  manner  Christ  alone  assumed 
human  nature,  anil  not  the  Father,  nor  the  Holy 
Ghost  :  they  were,  nevertheless,  ever  with  Him  in 
all  1 1  is  works  and  in  all  His  course. 

We  speak  of  God,  mortals  of  the  Immortal, 
feeble  of  the  Almighty,  miseialile  beings  of  the 
Merciful  ;  but  who  may  worthily  speak  of  that 
which  is  unspeakable?  He  is  without  measure; 
because  He  is  everywhere.  He  is  without  number, 
for  He  is  ever.  He  is  without  weight,  for  He  holds 
all  creatures  without  toil  ;  and  He  disposed  them 
all  in  three  things,  that  is,  in  measure,  and  in 
number,  and  in  weight.  But  know  ye  that  no 
man  can  speak  fully  concerning  God,  when  we 
cannot  even  investigate  or  reckon  the  creatures 
which  He  has  created.  Who  by  words  can  tell  the 
ornaments  of  heaven?  Or  who  the  fruitfulness  of 
earth?  t)r  who  shall  adequately  praise  the  circuit 
of  all  the  seasons?  Or  who  all  other  things,  when 
we  cannot  even  fully  comprehend  with  our  sight 
the  buddy  things  on  which  we  look?  Behold  thou 
seest   tlie   man   before   thee,  but  at  the  time   thou 


'  It  is  sometimes  erroneously  supposed  that  such  illustr.»tions  as  this  are  intended  to  ex/>tafn  how  the  sacred  mystery  13 
question  is  pos>ible,  whereas  ilicyaie  merely  uueiided  10  show  that  the  words  we  use  concern  ng  it  are  not  selJ-cont< adictory, 
which  is  llie  objection  most  conimoaly  brought  against  them.  'Jo  say  that  the  doctr.ne  of  the  Son's  generation  does  not 
entrench  U|ion  the  l''athv.*r's  jj-riTection  and  immutab.liiy  seems  at  first  inconsistent  with  what  the  words  Father  and  Son 
mean,  till  aiiuiher  image  is  adduced,  such  as  the  sun  and  radiance,  m  which  that  alleged  contradiction  is  seen  to  exist  in 
fact.  Here  one  image  corrects  another  ;  and  the  accumulation  of  images  is  not.  as  is  of'.en  thought,  the  restless  and  fruit- 
less effort  of  the  mind  to  enter  into  t'le  mystery,  but  is  a  safeguard  against  any  one  image,  nay,  any  collection  of  images, 
beiii^  supposed  sufficient.  If  it  be  said  that  the  language  used  concerning  the  sun  and  its  radiance  is  but  popular,  not  philo- 
sophical, so  again  the  Catholic  language  concerning  the  Holy  Trinity  may,  nay,  must  be  economical,  not  adequate,  con- 
veying the  truth,  not  in  the  tongues  ol  angels,  but  under  human  mode-,  of  thought  and  speech. — ^ohn  Ji  xfiry  NeivniaH.. 


TRINITY.     THE 


(    803     ) 


TRINITY.     THE 


seest  his  face,  thou  seest  not  his  Lack.  So  also  if 
thou  lookest  at  a  clotli,  thou  canst  net  see  it  all 
together,  but  turnest  it  about,  that  thou  mayest  see 
it  all.  W'liat  wonder  is  it,  if  the  Almi;^hty  God  is 
unspeakable  and  incomprehensible,  who  is  every- 
where all,  and  nowhere  divided  ? 

— ^Ifric,  105 1. 

(4818.)  The  sun  whicli  shines  over  us  is  a  bodily 
creatuie,  and  has,  reverthcless,  three  properties  in 
itself:  one  is  the  bodily  Milisiance,  tiiat  is  the  sun's 
orb  ;  the  second  is  the  beam  or  brightness  ever  of 
the  sui),  which  illumines  all  the  earth  ;  the  third  is 
the  heat,  which  with  the  beam  comes  to  us.  The 
beam  is  ever  of  the  sun,  and  with  it  ;  and  the  Son 
of  AIniiglity  God  is  ever  o^  the  Father  begotten, 
and  ever  with  Ilim  existing  of  whom  the  Apostle 
said,  that  He  was  the  brightness  of  His  Father's 
glory.  The  heat  of  the  sun  proceeds  from  it  and 
from  its  beam  ;  and  the  Hnly  Ghost  proceeds  ever 
from  the  Father  and  from  tlie  Son  equally. 

Father,  and  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  may  not  be 
named  together,  but  yet  they  are  nowhere  separated. 
Ihe  Almighty  God  is  not  threefold,  but  is  Trinity. 

— Mlfric,  1051. 

(4819.)  As  there  is  in  man  the  soul,  the  spirit, 
and  tiie  body,  three  distinct  substances,  which 
nevertheless  do  make  but  one  man  and  not  three  ; 
in  the  soul  there  is  the  mind,  tiie  understantling, 
and  the  will,  but  these  do  not  make  three  souls,  but 
one  ;  in  the  sun  there  is  the  very  substance  of  it, 
the  heat  and  the  light,  and  yet  these  be  not  thereby 
made  three  suns,  but  one  ;  if  the  light  and  shining 
be  taken  from  the  sun,  we  should  then  see  the  body 
of  it  no  more  ;  and  if  the  heat  or  warmth  be  taken 
from  the  sun,  we  should  then  not  feel  whether  there 
were  any  sun  in  the  sky  or  no  :  even  so,  if  the  Word 
and  Spirit  be  taken  from  God,  we  sholild  then  come 
by  no  knowledge  of  Him  at  all ;  therefore,  whereas 
the  Son  and  llie  Holy  Ghost  are  joined  unto  the 
Father,  it  doth  further  nothing  to  the  making  of 
many  Gods,  but  to  the  manifesting  of  one  true  God 
in  nature  and  essence,  and  three  in  persons  and 
[/roperties,  whicli  manifestation  was  to  be  spread 
throughout  the  world  by  the  preaching  of  the 
(jospel. 

Like  as  llie  sun  in  the  firmament  hath  three  dis- 
tinct and  sundry  things,  o(  which  every  one  differeth 
from  the  othei — as  the  globe,  the  light,  and  the 
heat ;  and  although  every  one  of  these  keej)  seve- 
rally their  properties,  yet  it  is  but  one  sun,  and  is 
not  divided  into  three  suns :  so,  in  the  Deity, 
the  unity  of  essence  is  not  taken  away  by  the  dis- 
tuiction  of  persons,  and  yet  for  all  that  is  there  no 
conlouniling  of  persons  or  changing  of  one  into 
another.  I'or  as  there  is  but  one  stm  in  and  through 
the  whole  world,  no  more  is  there  but  one  God. 
And  as  the  sun  showeth  himself  by  his  beams  :  even 
so  God,  as  Father,  doth  show  Himself  by  His  Son 
Jesus  Christ,  who  is  His  Word  and  eternal  wisdom. 
And  as  the  sun  by  iiis  lieat  doth  make  us  feel  his 
force  :  even  so  God  maketli  us  feel  His  virtue  by 
Iiis  Holy  Spirit,  which  is  His  infinite  power. 

As  reason,  will,  and  memory  are  not  three  souls, 
but  one  and  the  same  soul  :  so  the  Father,  tiie  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost  are  three,  ilistinct  in  property, 
and  yet  one  God.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

(4820.)  In  a  fired  coal  there  is  the  substance  of 
^lie  coal,  the  light  of  the  coal,  the  heal  of  the  coal, 


and  yet  but  one  fired  coal  :  so  soon  as  the  coal  is 
tired  there  are  these  three — substance,  liL;ht,  and 
heat.  So  in  the  Divine  Essence,  though  in  a  more 
transcendent  way,  is  there  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost.  Again,  it  may  be  shadowed  out  in  a 
man's  self:  as  soon  as  ever  he  is  born  into  this 
world  he  is  a  creature  to  God,  a  child  to  his  parents, 
a  subject  to  his  prince,  and  yet  he  is  but  one.  So, 
so  soon  as  ever  that  God  is— that  is,  from  all  eternity 
— He  is  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  yet  but  one 
God.  — Abbot,  1562-1635. 

(4821.)  It  is  a  threefold  way  in  which  God  has 
revealed  Himself  to  man — as  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Spirit.  First,  as  a  Father  in  opposition  to  that 
doctrine  which  taught  that  tiie  whole  universe  is 
God,  and  every  part  of  tiie  universe  is  a  jioriion  of 
God.  He  is  the  Father  who  hath  made  this 
universe — God  distinct  from  us  :  outside  of  us  :  the 
Creator  distinguished  from  the  creation.  Secondly, 
God  has  revealed  Himself  as  a  Son,  as  manifested 
in  Humanity,  chiefly  in  Chiist.  Throughout  the 
ages  past  tliere  has  been  a  mediatorial  liumanity. 
Man  is  in  a  way  the  reflection  ol  God's  nature — the 
lather  to  the  child.  The  jirophets,  the  lawgivers, 
and  especially  Mosf  ■;,  are  called  mediators,  through 
whom  Gods  name  was  known.  The  mediatorial 
system  culminated  in  Christ,  attained  the  acme  of 
perfection  in  one — the  man  Christ  Jesus — the  express 
image  of  His  F'ather.  The  Son  is  the  human  side 
of  the  mind  of  God.  Thirdly,  God  has  revealed 
Himself  as  the  Holy  Spirit  :  not  as  a  Father  external 
to  us,  nor  as  reflected  in  Humanity  still  outside  us, 
but  as  God  within  us  mingling  with  our  being.  The 
body  of  man  is  His  temple.  "In  Him  we  live 
and  move,  and  have  our  being."  This  is  the  dis- 
pensation of  the  Spirit  :  He  has  told  us  that  every 
lioly  asjii ration,  every  thought  and  act  that  has 
been  on  the  side  of  rigiit  against  wrong,  is  a  part  of 
His  holy  essence,  of  His  Spirit  in  us.  This  is  the 
threefold  manifestation  made  of  Himself  to  us  by 
God.  But  this  is  not  all,  for  this  alone  would  not 
be  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  It  is  quite  conceiv- 
able that  there  might  be  one  Living  P'orce  manifested 
in  three  different  ways,  without  its  being  a  Trinity. 
Let  us  try  and  understand  this  by  an  illustration. 
Conceive  a  circular  thin  plate  of  metal  ;  above  it. 
you  would  see  it  such  ;  at  some  yards  distance  as 
an  oval  ;  sideways,  edgeways,  a  line.  This  might 
be  the  account  of  God's  different  aspects  :  in  one 
relationship  to  us  seen  as  the  ''ather,  in  another  as 
the  Son,  in  another  as  the  .^pirit ;  but  this  is  not 
the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  it  is  a  heresy,  kno.\n  in 
old  times  by  the  name  of  Sabellianism  or  modal 
Trinity,  depending  on  our  position  in  reference  to 
Him.  Further,  this  is  not  merely  the  same  part 
of  His  nature,  seen  in  different  aspects,  but  diverse 
parts  of  His  complex  being — persons — three  causes 
of  this  manifestation.  Just  as  our  reason,  our 
memory,  our  imagination,  are  not  the  same,  but 
really  ourselves.  Let  us  take  another  illustration. 
A  single  white  ray  of  ligh;  falling  on  a  certain  object 
appears  red  ;  on  another,  blue  ;  on  another,  yellow. 
That  is,  the  red  alone  in  one  case  is  thrown  out,  tlit 
blue  or  yellow  in  another.  So  the  different  parts 
of  the  one  ray  by  turns  iiecome  visible;  each  is  a 
complete  ray,  yet  the  original  white  ray  is  but  one. 
So  v\e  believe  that  in  that  Unity  of  Essence  there 
are  three  living  Powers  which  we  call  Persons, 
distinct  from  eacli  other.  It  is  in  virtue  of  His 
own    incommunicable    Essence   that    God    is    the 


TRUTH. 


(    804    ) 


TRUTH. 


Father.  It  is  the  human  ade  of  His  nature  by 
which  lie  is  revealed  as  the  Son,  so  that  it  was  not, 
so  to  speak,  a  matter  of  choice  whether  the  Son  or 
the  Father  should  redeem  the  world.  We  believe 
that  from  all  eternity  there  was  that  in  the  mind  of 
God  which  I  have  called  its  human  side,  which 
made  it  possible  for  Him  to  be  imaged  in 
Humanity  ;  and  that  again  named  the  Spirit,  by 
which  He  could  mix  and  mini^le  Himself  with  us. 
This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  explained  now, 
not  to  point  the  ilamnatory  clause  of  the  Athanasian 
creed,  but  only  in  order  to  seize  joyfully  the  annual 
opportunity  of  professing  a  firm  belief  in  the  dog- 
matic truth  of  the  Trinity. 

—F,  W.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 


TRUTH. 

1.  Its  characteiiBtloi. 

(l.)  It  is  simple. 

(4822.)  That  is  a  very  ill  cause  which  w<ints 
colourable  reason  for  it  ;  that  is  a  very  ill  reason 
which  wants  a  Tertullus  to  plead  it  ;  and  he  is  an  ill 
Tertullus  that  wants  won  is  to  defend  it.  Yea, 
error  hath  always  most  words,  like  a  rotten  house 
that  needs  most  props  and  crutches  to  uphold  it. 
Simple  truth  everuune  requires  least  cost,  like  a 
beautiful  face  that  needs  no  painiing,  or  a  comely 
body  which  any  decent  apparel  becomes.  We 
plaster  over  rotten  posts  and  ragged  walls;  sub- 
stantial buildings  are  able  to  grace  themselves. 
We  cannot  but  suspect  that  cause  whereon  the 
lawyer  wastes  so  much  of  his  time  and  tongue. 
Multitude  of  words  is  not  unlike  the  thick  painting 
in  some  popish  church  windows,  a  mere  device  to 
keep  out  the  light.  — Adams,  1654, 

(2.)  //  is  harvioniotis. 

(4823.)  All    truths   are   reducible  to   an   unity  ; 

like    lines,    iliey  lovingly  meet  in   one   centre,   tiie 

God  of  truth,  and  so  far  fiom  jostling  and  clashing, 

that  (as  stones  in  an  arch)  they  upliold  one  another. 

—  Gwnall,  1617-1679. 

{3.)  It  is  self-manifesting. 

(4824.)  Divine  truth  exerts  on  the  mind  of  man 
at  once  a  restorative  and  self-manifesting  power. 
It  creates  in  tiie  mind  the  capacity  by  which  it  is 
discerned.  As  lii;ht  opens  the  close-shut  flower- 
bud  to  receive  light,  or  as  the  sunbeam,  playing  on 
a  sleeper's  eyes,  by  its  gentle  irritation  opens  them 
to  see  its  own  brightness  ;  so  the  truth  of  God, 
shining  on  the  soul,  quickens  and  stirs  into  activity 
the  faculty  by  which  that  very  truth  is  to  be  per- 
ceived. — Caird, 

(4.)  //  appeals  to  the  understanding. 

(4825.)  Though  error,  like  a  thief,  comes  thus  in 
at  the  window  ;  yet  truth,  like  the  true  owner  of 
the  house,  delights  to  enter  at  the  right  door  of 
understanding,  irom  thence  into  the  conscience,  and 
so  pas^^eth  into  the  will  and  affections.  Indeed,  he 
that  hits  upon  truth,  and  takes  up  the  profession  of 
it,  before  he  is  brought  into  the  acquaintance  of  its 
excellency  and  heavenly  beauty  by  his  understand- 
ing, cannot  entertain  it  becoming  its  heavenly  birth 
and  descent ;  'tis  as  a  prince  that  travels  in  a 
disguise,  not  known,  therefore  not  honoured. 
Truth  is  loved  and  prized  only  of  those  that  know 


it ;  and  not  to  desire  to  know  it,  is  to  despise  it,  M 
much  as  knowing  it,  to  reject  it.  It  were  not  hard 
to  cheat  that  man  of  truth  who  knows  not  what  he 
hath.  Truth  and  error  are  all  one  to  the  ignorant 
man,  so  it  hath  but  the  name  of  truth.  You  have, 
may  be,  heard  of  the  covetous  man  that  hugged 
himself  in  the  many  bags  of  gold  he  had,  but  never 
opened  them,  or  used  them ;  when  the  thief  took 
away  his  gold,  and  left  him  his  bags  full  of  pebbles 
in  the  room,  he  was  as  happy  as  when  he  had  his 
gold,  for  he  looked  not  of  the  one  or  other.  And 
verily  an  ignorant  person  is  in  a  manner  no  better 
with  truth,  than  error  on  his  side  :  both  are  alike 
to  him,  day  and  night,  all  one  to  a  blind  man. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(5.)  //  is  always  and  everywhere  the  same. 

(4826.)  Truth  is  the  same  in  all  ages  ;  not  like  an 
almanac,  to  be  changed  every  year,  or  calculated 
peculiarly  for  one  meridian. 

— Manton,  1 620-1 667. 

(6. )  //  is  infinite. 

(4827.)  The  Truth  is  infinite  as  the  firmament 
above  you.  In  childhood,  both  seem  near  and 
measurable  :  but  with  years  they  grow  and  grow  ; 
and  seem  further  off,  and  further,  and  grander,  and 
deeper,  and  vaster,  as  God  Himself  ;  till  you  smile 
to  remember  how  you  thought  you  could  touch  the 
sky,  and  blush  to  recollect  the  proud  and  self- 
sufficient  way  in  which  you  used  to  talk  of  knowing 
or  preaching  "The  Truth." 

—F.  W.  Robertson,  1816-1853. 

(7.)  It  is  invincible  and  immortal. 

(4828.)  It  lies  not  in  the  power  of  men,  or 
malice  of  devils,  to  disgrace  the  truth  ;  for  it  shall 
shine  glorious,  when  heaven  and  earth  perish,  and 
all  her  maligners  subjected  under  her  conquering 
feet.  It  is  of  the  nature  that  God  Himself  is,  whose 
glory  is  not  capable  of  any  augmentation,  nor  passive 
of  any  diminution.  He  is  said  to  be  dishonoured  by 
our  sins,  to  be  magnified  and  glorified  by  our  good 
works.  But  let  our  works  be  good  or  evil,  still 
Thou  continuest  holy,  O  Thou  Worship  of  Israel. 
Whether  the  Turks  despise  Jesus,  or  the  Christians 
adore  Him,  still  He  abides  the  same  yesterday,  and 
to-day,  and  for  ever.  Such  is  the  immutability  of 
truth,  the  patrons  of  it  make  it  not  greater,  the 
opposers  make  it  not  less  ;  as  the  splendour  of  the 
sun  is  not  enlarged  by  them  that  bless  it,  nor 
eclipsed  by  them  that  hate  it.       — Adams,  1654. 

(4829.)  Besides  the  men  of  weak  nerve  and  strong 
fears,  there  are  not  wanting  others  who,  from  their 
observatory,  tell  us  that  sceptical  philosophy  is 
rolling  onward  to  interpose  between  the  orb  of 
pure  evangelism  and  the  Church.  It  may  be  so, 
1  am  afraid  it  is  so  ;  but  of  one  thing  I  am  certain, 
and  in  that  assurance  I  am  as  calm  and  confident 
as  I  am  when  looking  upon  the  obscuration  of 
the  sun,  that  it  will  prove  only  an  eclipse,  not  an 
extinction  ;  and  an  eclipse  partial,  and  not  total. 
The  great  luminary  of  evangelic  truth,  sustained, 
irradiated,  and  guided  by  the  hand  of  its  divine 
Author,  will  emeige  from  the  shadow,  and  hold  on 
its  resplendent  course,  when  the  cause  of  its  tem- 
porary obscuration  shall  have  passed  away. 

— James. 

{4830.)  There  is  vitality  in  truth.  Neither  the 
sword  of  the  tyrant,  nor  the  pen  of  the  infidel,  caa 


7'RUTH. 


(    805     ) 


TRUTH. 


slay  it.  From  both  it  is  safe,  under  the  protection 
of  its  divine  Author.  It  still  lives  in  the  very 
region  of  death,  incorruptible,  indestructible,  im- 
mortal. The  seed  whicli  the  Eg)'ptians  buried 
with  their  mummies,  though  enclosed  in  the  cata- 
comb, though  held  in  the  grasp  or  laid  in  the 
bosom  of  death  for  thousands  of  years,  slill  retains 
its  germ  of  vitality  ;  and  on  being  exhumed  after 
its  long  interment,  sowed  in  congenial  soils,  and 
exposed  to  the  action  of  the  heavens,  vegetates  as 
certainly  and  as  luxuriantly  as  if  but  yesterday  it  had 
dropped  from  the  plant.  What  are  some  churches 
but  ecclesiastical  niuniinies,  in  which  the  incorrup- 
tible seed  of  the  kingdom  has  been  shut  up  for  ages 
in  the  icy  hand  of  dcatli,  yet  all  the  while  retaining 
its  own  imperishable  lile,  and  when  brought  out 
from  its  grave,  and  sown  in  the  earth,  displaying 
its  power  and  producing  its  kind  ?  The  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith,  when  brought  by  Luther  out 
of  the  catacomb  of  Rome,  wns  as  vigorous  and 
fruitful  as  wlien  first  preached  by  the  great  apostle 
of  the  Gentiles.  Yes  ;  and  thougii  now  entombed 
in  the  rationalism  of  the  continent,  or  the  Puseyism 
of  our  country,  it  pieserves  even  tliere  the  living 
g;rm,  and  shall  come  forth  to  prove  its  power  and 
to  produce  its  fruit.  — James. 

(4831.)  Tht  excellent  Polycarp,  bishop  of  Smyrna, 
was  obliged  to  quit  the  city  in  consequence  ol  the 
iuireasiiig  persecutions  ;  he  went  with  his  faithful 
d.jciple  Crescens  to  the  region  in  tlie  vicinity  of 
Smyrna.  —And  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  the  bishop 
was  walking  under  the  shade  of  the  magnificent  trees 
which  stood  in  front  of  his  rural  abode.  Here  he 
found  Crescens  sitting  under  an  oak  tree,  leaning 
his  head  on  his  hands  and  weeping.  Tlien  tlie  old 
man  said,  "  My  son,  why  weepest  thou  ?"  Crescens 
lifted  up  his  head,  and  said,  ".Shall  I  not  mourn 
and  weep,  when  1  think  of  the  kingdom  of  truth  on 
earth  ?  Tempests  ami  storms  are  gathering  round, 
and  will  destroy  it  in  its  beginning.  Many  of  its 
adherents  have  become  apostates  and  have  denied 
and  abused  the  truth,  pioving  that  unworthy  men 
may  confe-s  it  witii  their  lips,  though  their  heart  is 
far  from  it.  This  fills  my  soul  with  sorrow,  and 
my  eyes  with  tears."     Thus  replied  Crescens. 

Then  Polycarp  smiled  and  answered:  "My 
dear  son,  the  kingdom  of  Divine  truth  is  like  unto 
a  tree  that  a  countryman  reared  in  his  garden.  He 
set  the  seed  secretly  and  quietly  in  the  ground  and 
left  it  ;  the  seed  put  lorih  leaves,  and  the  young 
tree  grew  up  among  weeds  and  thorns.  Soon  the 
tree  reared  itself  above  them,  and  the  weeds  died, 
because  the  shadow  of  the  branches  overcame  them. 
The  tree  grew,  and  the  wmds  blew  on  it  and  shook 
it  ;  but  its  roots  clung  firmer  and  firmer  to  the 
ground,  taking  hold  ot  the  rocks  downwards,  and 
its  branches  reached  unto  heaven.  Thus  the 
tempest  served  to  increase  the  firmness  and  strength 
of  the  tiee.  When  it  grew  up  higher,  and  its 
shadow  spread  further,  then  the  thorns  and  the 
weeds  grew  again  around  the  tree  ;  but  it  heeded 
them  not  in  its  loltiness  ;  tiiere  it  stood  in  calm 
peaceful  grandeur — a  tree  of  God." 

Thus  said  the  excellent  bishop  ;  then  stretching 
out  his  hand  to  his  disciple,  he  continued  smiling: 
*'  When  thou  art  lilting  up  thy  eyes  to  the  summit 
iti  the  tree,  wilt  thou  regard  the  weeds  that  cling 
about  its  roots  ?     'I'rust  in  Him  who  planted  it. 

Then  Crescens  arose,  and  his  heart  was  glad- 
decsd  J  for  the  venerable  father  walked  by  his  side. 


Bent  was   he  with  years  ;    but  his  spirit  and  hii 
countenance  were  as  those  of  a  youth. 

— /''.  A.  Kiummacher. 

(4832.)  It  is  defeat  that  turns  bone  to  flint  ;  it  is 
defeat  that  turns  gristle  to  muscle  ;  it  is  defeat  that 
makes  men  invincible  ;  it  is  defeat  that  has  made 
those  heroic  natures  that  are  now  in  the  ascendancy, 
and  that  has  given  the  sweet  law  of  liberty  for  the 
bitter  law  of  opjiression.  Do  not,  therefore,  be 
afraid  of  defeat.  You  are  never  so  near  victory  as 
when  you  are  defeated  in  a  good  cause.  For  then 
they  had  Christ  when  they  kissed  Him  ;  but  that 
kiss,  so  foul  on  Judas'  lips,  on  the  face  of  Christ 
shone  like  a  jewel.  Yes,  then  they  had  Him  when 
they  hauled  1  lim  before  the  Sanhedrim  at  midnight ; 
but  it  was  like  a  triumphal  march.  Then,  when 
they  led  Him  toward  Calvary,  they  had  Him. 
And  then,  when  to  the  music  of  hammers  they 
lifted  Him  up,  and  He  hung  suspended  and  groan- 
ing, and  with  imploraiions  of  uinitterable  agony 
died,  and  the  heavens  were  dark,  their  victory  was 
accomplished,  and  so  was  their  everlasting  defeat ; 
for  not  till  He  died  could  He  live,  or  we  in  Him. 
It  was  slaying  Him  that  gave  Him  power.  And 
so  of  everything  that  has  the  nature  of  Christ  in  it 
— every  truth,  every  cause,  eveiy  sanctity,  every 
noble  thing.  Slay  it  if  you  can,  and,  like  the 
gashes  of  Milton's  angels,  its  wounds  will  close  by 
the  healing,  heavenly  virtues  of  its  own  nature,  and 
it  will  stand  forth  with  even  greater  power  than 
before.  — Beecher. 

2.  Its  relations  to  g-oodnesa. 

(4833.)  The  apostle  joins  the  spirit  of  power  and 
a  sound  mind  together  {2  1  im.  i.  7).  Holiness  in 
practice  depends  much  on  a  sound  judgment.  God- 
liness is  the  child  of  truth,  and  it  must  be  nursed  by 
its  own  mother,  "  Desire  the  sincere  milk  of  the 
Word,  that  ye  may  grow  thereby." 

— Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4S34. )  God,  who  gives  an  eye  to  see  truth,  must 
give  a  hand  to  hold  it.  What  we  have  from  God 
we  cannot  keep  without  God  ;  keep,  iheiefore,  thy 
acquaintance  \\\\.\\  God,  or  else  truth  will  not  keep 
her  acquaintance  with  thee.  God  is  light;  thou 
art  going  into  the  dark,  as  soon  as  thou  turnest  thy 
back  upon  Him.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4835.)  When  men  have  orthodox  judgments  and 
heterooox  hearts,  there  must  needs  be  little  love  to 
truth,  Lecause  the  judgment  and  will  are  so  un- 
equally yoked.  Tlius,  like  a  seolding  couple,  they 
may  ilwell  together  a  while,  but  being  <iissatisfied 
with  each  other,  the  wretch  is  easily  persuaded  to 
give  truth  a  bill  of  divorce  at  last,  tliat  he  may 
espouse  other  principles  better  suited  to  his  corrupt 
heart.  —Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4836.)  There  is  a  natural  affinity  between  all 
truths  and  all  forms  of  goodness.  They  may  be 
separable  as  they  are  ilistii^cl  ;  but  when  any  one 
great  truth  is  held  fast,  it  vvaids  off  some  evil 
influences  ;  when  any  good,  loving  habit  is  retained, 
it  keeps  the  heart  open  to  tiuih.  In  the  highest 
sphere  ol  being  trutli  and  goodness  are  one  ;  and 
in  our  nature  they  are  not  easily  di-sjoined.  As  the 
nerves  of  perception  and  sensation  are  distinct  yet 
mutually  dependent,  as  the  rays  of  light  and  heat 
are  distinct  yet  all  but  inextiicably  intertwined, 
while  both  are   indispensable  alike   to   the  mosi 


TRUTH. 


C    806    ) 


TRUTH. 


important  functions  of  animal  life  and  the  develop- 
ment of  organised  existences,  so  truth  and  goodness 
by  their  commingled  iiifluence  quicken  and  sustain 
the  inner  man,  keep  toL^ether  their  hold  upon  our 
spirit,  and  can  oujy  be  held  fast  when  thus  con- 
joined. — F.  C,  Cook. 

3.  Its  relation  to  the  human  mind. 

(l.)    7'he  tnind  craves  for  it. 

(4837.)  The  mind  has  its  wants,  and  perhnps  as 
numerous  as  tiicse  of  the  body.  It  longs  for  know- 
ledge ;  e\eiytiiiiig  that  can  be  known  is  nece>sary 
to  it  ;  and  noiiiing  piDves  more  clearly  that  truth  is 
its  pole-star,  noiliiiig  pcrliai'S  reflects  more  glory 
upon  it,  than  the  cliaim  which  it  feels,  and  some- 
times in  spite  ol  itself,  in  the  diiesl  and  most  thorny 
investigations  of  algebra.  — FonceiielU. 

(2.)    Yet  it  is  often  iiii popular . 

(4838.)  As  the  friar  wittily  told  the  people,  that 
the  truth  he  then  preachetl  unto  tliem  seemed  to  be 
like  holy  water,  which  every  one  called  for  apace, 
yet,  when  it  came  to  be  cast  upon  them,thry  turned 
aside  their  faces  as  though  they  did  not  like  it.  Just 
so  it  is  that  almost  every  man  calls  fa^t  for  truth, 
commends  truth,  nothing  will  down  but  truth,  yet 
they  cannot  endure  to  have  it  cast  in  their  faces. 
They  love  truth  wlien  it  only  pleads  itself,  and -^hows 
itself;  but  they  cannot  abide  it,  when  it  presses  npon 
them  and  shows  iliem  themselves  ;  they  would  h^'ve 
\X.  shine  out  unto  all  the  world  in  its  glory,  but  by  no 
means  so  much  as  peep  out  to  reprove  their  own 
errors.  — Senhottse,  16 18. 

(4839.)  Something  sure  is  ih  ii,  that  impostors 
find  such  quick  return  for  their  waie,  while  truth 
hangs  upon  the  hand.  And  is  it  not  this?  that 
they  offer  to  sell  heaven  cheaper  to  their  disciples 
than  Christ  will  to  His?  He  that  sells  cheapest 
uill  have  the  most  customers,  though  at  last  the 
best  will  be  the  cheapest;  truth  with  self-denial 
will  be  a  better  pennyworth  than  error  with  flesh- 
pleasing.  — GurnaU,  161 7-1679. 

(4840.)  Truth  is  so  connatural  to  the  mind  of 
man,  that  it  would  certainly  he  entertained  by  all 
men,  did  it  not  by  accident  contradict  some  beloved 
interest  or  other.  The  thief  hates  the  break  of 
day  ;  not  but  that  he  naturally  loves  the  light  as 
well  as  other  men  ;  but  his  condiiion  makes  him 
dread  and  abhor  that  which,  of  all  things,  he  knows 
to  be  the  likeliest  means  ol  his  di-coveiy. 

— South,  1 633- 17 1 6. 

(3.)  //  is  difficult  to  fix  it  in  the  mind. 

(4841.)  When  Daguerre  was  wo:  king  upon  his 
sun-pictures,  his  greatest  difficulty  was  to  fix  them. 
The  light  would  imprint  his  image,  but  as  soon  as 
the  tablet  was  taken  from  the  camera  the  image 
vanished.  At  last  he  discovered  a  chemical  solu- 
tion which  would  fix  the  image  and  give  him  a 
permanent  picture.  So  the  truth  is  hard  to  _/ijf  in 
man's  heart. 

4.  Its  impoi'tance. 

(l.)  All  truth  is  important. 

(4842.)  The  doctrine  of  the  gospel  is  like  a  bridge, 
by  which  alone  men  can  go  Iroin  this  valley  of 
misery  to  the  regions  of  bliss  and  happiness  ;  and 
the  principles  of  religior    or  truths  of  the  gospel, 


are  like  so  many  arches  which,  united  together, 
make  up  this  bridge  :  and  therefore  these  error* 
that  overturn  any  of  these  principles  do,  as  it  were, 
cut  out  an  arch  from  the  bridge,  whereby  a  breach 
is  made,  and  the  passage  by  it  into  heaven  is  eilhei 
cut  off,  if  the  error  be  fundamental,  or  greatly 
obstructed,  if  it  nearly  concerns  the  fundamentals  of 
religion.  — Erskine,  1685-1752. 

(4843.)  The  least  truth  ought  to  be  sacred  to 
every  one  of  us,  who  are  called  to  prove  all  things, 
and  hold  fast  that  which  is  gootl  ;  for,  the  loss  of 
the  least  truth,  whether  you  reckon  it  lundamental 
or  not,  is  of  dangeious  consequence:  the  loss  of 
the  least  divine  tiuth,  is  as  the  loss  of  a  diamond 
out  of  a  rin-  ;  or  of  a  jewel  out  of  the  Mediator's 
ciown.  1  he  gospel  is  like  a  ladder  that  hath 
so  many  steps,  or  rounds;  every  tiulh  is  like  a 
round  of  the  ladder  ;  and  by  diese  rmrnds  we 
climb  up  to  heaven  :  if  you  break  off  any  round, 
you  are  in  danger  of  falling  ;  and  your  climbing 
up  is  rendered  either  difficult  or  impossible.  The 
truths  of  the  gospel  are  like  stepping-stones  over  a 
deep  water  ;  take  auay  any  of  these  stones,  and  you 
make  such  a  w  ide  and  dangerous  step  that  you  are 
in  hazard  of  falling  into  the  deep. 

—Erskine,  1685- 1752. 

(2.)    Yet  all  truths  aie  not  all  equal  in  value. 

(4S44.)  There  is  as  much  difference  in  the  value 
of  truths,  as  there  is  of  coins  :  whereof  one  piece  is 
but  a  farthing,  another  no  less  than  a  pound,  yet 
both  current,  and  in  their  kind  useful. 

— Hall,  1574-1656. 

(3.)  Some  truths  are  vital. 

(4845.)  I  can  conceive  a  living  man  without  an 
arm  or  a  leg,  but  not  u  ithout  a  head  or  a  heart ;  so 
there  are  some  truths  essential  to  vital  religion,  and 
which  all  awakened  souls  are  taught. 

— Aewton,  1 725-1807. 

.  (4.)   The  most  important  truths  are  within  the 
reach  of  all. 

(4846.)  God  hath  graciously  ordered  it,  that  the 
most  useful  and  necessary  I  ruths  for  aftlicted  saints 
han^',  as  I  may  so  say,  on  the  lower  boughs  of  this 
tree  of  life  (the  Bible),  within  the  reach  of  a  poor 
Christian,  who  is  but  of  an  ordinary  stature  in 
knowledge.  — Guruall,  1617-1679. 

(5.)  Seemingly  slight  departures  from  truth  are 
not  slii^ht  evils. 

(4S47.)  To  take  away  from  truth  the  smallest 
ponion  of  itself,  is  jiaving  the  way  for  its  utter  loss 
and  annihilation.  In  this  respect  truth  resembles 
the  insect  which  is  said  to  die  if  deprived  of  its 
antennae.  Truth  requires  to  be  entire  and  perfect 
in  all  its  members,  in  oriler  to  the  manifestation  of 
that  power  by  which  it  is  able  to  gain  wide  and 
salutary  victories,  and  extend  its  triumphs  to  future 
ages.  Blending  a  little  error  with  truth,  is  like 
casting  a  grain  of  poison  into  a  full  dish  ;  that  grain 
suffices  to  change  the  quality  of  the  food,  and  death, 
slow  but  certain,  is  the  result.  — D' Aubigni. 

(4848.)  The  carpenter's  gimblet  makes  but  a 
small  hole,  but  it  enables  him  to  drive  a  great  nsil. 
May  we  not  here  see  a  representation  of  those  minor 
departures  from  the  truth  which  prepare  the  minds 
of  »uen  for  grievous  errors,  and  ol  those  thoughts  ol 


TRUTH. 


(    807    ) 


TRUTH. 


tin  which  open  a  way  for  the  worst  of  crimes  ? 
Beware,  then,  of  Satan's  gimblet.       — Spuroeon. 

5.  Controversaiies  concerning  truth. 

(l.)  Are  not  to  be  enlereJ  upon  rashly. 

(4849.)  Every  man  is  not  a  proper  champion 
for  iruili,  nor  fit  to  lake  up  the  gauntlet  in  tlie 
cause  of  verily  :  many  from  the  ignorance  of  these 
maxims,  and  an  inconsitlerate  zeal  for  truth,  have 
too  rashly  charged  tlie  troops  of  error,  and  remain 
as  trophies  unto  the  enemies  of  Irulh.  A  man  may 
be  in  as  just  possession  of  truth  as  of  a  city,  and 
yet  be  forced  to  surrender  :  'lis  therefore  far  better 
to  enjoy  her  with  peace  than  to  hazard  her  on  a 
battle  :  if  tlicrefore  theie  rise  any  doubts  in  my 
way,  I  do  forget  them,  or  at  least  defer  them,  till 
my  better  settled  judgment  and  more  manly  reason 
be  able  to  resolve  them, 

— ^i>  T.  Broivne,  1605-1682. 

(2.)  Are  not  to  deter  us  from  the  service  of  God. 

(4850.)  Though  there  be  many  sects  and  jieresies, 
many  false  religions,  and  l;ut  one  Irulh,  this  must 
not  make  us  neglect  all  till  there  be  an  universal 
agreement  ;  for  as  well  may  we  reconcile  liglit  and 
darkness,  the  children  ol  God,  with  the  children  of 
the  devil,  grace  and  natural  corruption,  truth  and 
error,  as  the  true  religion  with  those  which  aie 
false,  or  the  professors  01  the  one  with  the  professors 
of  the  other. 

Those  who  have  important  business  abroad  do 
not  stay  at  home  and  refuse  to  travel  because 
some  have  gone  out  of  the  way.  But  thereiore 
they  are  the  mure  careful  to  inlorm  themselves  of 
every  turning  in  their  journey,  because  they  would 
not  err  with  others. 

Those  that  have  a  desire  to  live  do  not  refuse  all 
meat  because  some  surfeit  and  die  by  ealing  that 
which  is  uuwhulesoiue.  But  rather  hereby  they  are 
made  more  wary  in  making  good  choice  of  such 
diet  as  is  fit  for  the  preservation  of  their  health. 

Those  also  who  are  sick  do  not  neglect  all  physic 
because  there  are  many  cozening  and  unlearned 
empirics  who  kill  instead  of  cming.  But  this 
makes  ihem  with  more  circumspection  lo  find  out  a 
skilful  and  learned  physician. 

Let  us  therefore  iollow  the  like  practice  in  spiri- 
tual things.  And  seeing  there  is  but  one  direct 
way  which  leads  untu  heaven,  and  many  by-ways 
which  lead  to  desiruction,  let  not  this  keep  us 
from  travelling  liiis  heavenly  journey,  but  raiher 
move  us  witii  more  diligence  lo  inquire  the  right 
way.  Seeing  also  there  are  many  who  offer  us 
poison,  instead  of  the  wholesome  lood  and  physic 
of  our  souls,  let  us  learn  with  more  care  to  make 
choice,  and  to  put  a  ditieience  between  the  one  and 
the  other.  — Downaine,  1644. 

(4851.)  Look  thou  takest  not  offence  at  the 
difference  of  judgments  and  opinions  tliat  are  found 
amongst  the  professors  of  religion.  It  is  a  stone 
which  the  Papist  throws  (in  these  divided  times 
especially)  belore  our  feet.  How  know  you,  saith 
he,  which  is  truth,  when  there  are  so  many  judg- 
ments and  ways  amongst  you  ?  Some  have  so 
stumbled  at  this,  that  they  have  quit  the  truth  they 
once  professed,  and  by  the  storm  of  dissensions  in 
matters  of  religion,  h.ive  been,  if  not  thrown  upon 
the  rock  of  a'-b^ism,  yet  driven  to  and  fro  in  a 
fluctuation  of  mind,  not  willing  to  cast  anchor  any- 
where in  \heir  judgment,  tiJJ  thej  see  this  tempest 


over,  and  those  that  are  scattered  from  one  another 
by  diversity  of  judgment,  meet  together  in  an  unity, 
and  joint  consent  of  persuasions  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion. A  resolution,  as  one  saith  very  well,  as 
foolish  and  pernicious  to  the  soul,  if  not  more,  than 
it  would  be  to  the  body,  if  a  man  should  vow  he 
wouKI  not  eat  till  all  the  clocks  in  the  city  should 
strike  twelve  just  together  ;  the  latter  might  sooner 
be  expected  than  the  former. 

— Curnall,  1617-1679. 

(3.)  Are  no  excuse  for  an  irrelii^ious  life. 

(4852.)  Objection.  There  are  so  many  ways  and 
religions  that  we  know  not  which  to  be  of;  and 
therefore  we  will  be  even  as  we  are. 

Ansjver.  Because  there  are  many  will  you  be  of 
that  way  that  you  may  be  sure  is  wrong  ?  None 
are  farther  out  of  the  way,  than  worldly,  fleshly, 
unconvsried  sinners.  For  they  do  not  err  in  this 
or  that  opinion  as  many  sects  do  ;  but  in  the  very 
scope  anil  drift  of  their  lives.  If  you  were  going  a 
jouiney  that  your  life  lay  on,  would  you  stop  or 
turn  again  because  you  meet  some  cross-ways,  or 
becaiisii  you  see  some  travellers  go  the  horse-way, 
and  some  the  foot- way,  and  some  perhaps  break 
over  the  hedge,  yea,  and  some  miss  the  way  ?  Or 
would  you  not  raiher  be  more  careful  to  inquire  the 
way  ?  If  you  have  some  servants  that  know  not 
how  to  do  your  work  riglit,  'and  some  that  are 
unlaithful,  would  you  take  it  well  at  any  of  the  rest 
that  would  therefore  be  idle  anil  do  you  no  service, 
because  they  see  the  rest  so  bad  ? 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

6.  How  It  is  to  be  sought. 

(l.)  Diligently. 

(4853.)  Like  as  nature  hath  hid  very  deep  in  the 

ground  .--tunes  precious  and  of  much  value,  but  others 
of  no  virtue  are  everywhere  to  be  found  :  so  things 
of  estimation  and  price,  as  virtue  and  learninL;,  are 
known  but  unto  few,  neither  can  they  be  obtained 
without  great  labour  and  study. 

— Cawdray,  1609. 

(2.)  Sincerely. 

(4854.)  Let  thy  aim  be  sincere  in  embracing 
truths.  A  false  naughty  heart,  and  an  unsound 
judgment,  like  ice  and  water,  are  produced  mutu- 
ally by  one  another.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(3.)  Impartially. 

(4S155.)  That  man  only  stands  fair  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  truth,  who  is  under  the  duiiiinion  of  no 
vice  or  lust  ;  because  he  hath  nothing  to  corrupt  or 
bribe  hiin,  to  seduce  him,  lo  dra^v  hiin  aside  in  his 
inquiry  alter  truth,  he  hath  no  interest  but  to  find 
the  truth,  and  follow  it ;  he  is  inquiring  after  the 
way  to  heaven  and  eternal  happiness,  and  he  hath 
the  indillerence  of  a  traveller  who  is  nol  inclined  to 
go  this  way  rather  than  another,  for  his  concernment 
is  to  find  out  the  right  way,  and  to  walk  in  it :  such 
an  indilferency  of  mind  hath  every  good  man  who 
sincerely  desires  to  do  the  will  of  jGod  ;  he  stands 
ready  to  receive  truth  when  sufficient  evidence  is 
oflered  to  convince  him  of  it  ;  because  he  hath  no 
manner  of  concernment  that  the  contrary  proposition 
should  be  true.  As  in  mathematics  a  man  is  ready 
to  give  his  assent  to  any  proposition  that  is  sufi5- 
ciently  demonstrated  lo  him,  because  he  hath  ni 
inclination  or  affection  to  one  side  of  the  question 
more  than  to  tae  other ;  all  his  design  and  concern- 


TRUTH, 


(    808    ) 


TRUTH. 


Bient  is  to  find  out  the  truth  on  which  side  soever  it 
lies ;  and  he  is  like  to  find  it  because  he  is  so  in- 
different and  impartial.  But  if  a  man  be  biassed 
by  any  lust,  and  addicted  to  any  vicious  practice,  he 
is  then  an  interested  person,  and  concerned  to  be 
partial  in  his  judgment  of  things,  and  is  under  a 
great  temptation  to  infidelity  when  the  truths  of  God 
are  proposed  to  him,  because,  whatever  the  evidence 
for  them  be,  he  cannot  but  be  unwilling  to  own  the 
truth  of  that  doctrine  which  is  so  contrary  to  his  in- 
clination and  interest.       —2'illotson,  1630-1694. 

(4.)  Prayer  fully. 

(4S56.)  We  stand  at  better  advantage  to  find 
trutli,  and  keep  it  also,  when  devoutly  praying  for 
it,  than  fiercely  wrangling  and  contending  about  it. 
Disputes  roil  tliesoul,  and  raise  the  dust  of  passion; 
prayer  sweetly  composeth  the  mind,  and  lays  the 
passions  whicii  disputes  draw  forth  ;  and  I  am  sure 
a  man  may  see  further  in  a  still  clear  day,  than  in  a 
windy  and  cloudy.  — Curnall,  161 7-1679. 

(5.)  Courageously. 

(4857.)  I  persuade  myself  that  the  life  and  facul- 
ties oi  man,  at  the  best  but  short  and  limited,  cannot 
be  employetl  more  rationally  or  laudably  than  in  the 
search  of  knowledge  :  and  especially  of  that  sort 
which  relates  to  our  duty,  and  conduces  to  our 
happiness.  In  these  inquiries,  therefore,  wherever 
I  perceive  any  glimmering  of  truth  before  me,  1 
readily  pursue  and  endeavour  to  trace  it  to  its  source, 
without  any  reserve  or  caution  of  pushing  the  dis- 
covery too  far,  or  opening  too  great  a  glare  of  it  to 
the  public  I  look  upon  the  discovery  of  anything 
which  is  true,  as  a  valuable  acquisition  of  society, 
which  cannot  possibly  hurt  or  obstruct  the  good 
effect  of  any  other  truth  whatsoever  ;  for  they  all 
partake  of  one  common  essence,  and  necessarily  co- 
incide with  each  other ;  and  like  the  drops  of  rain 
which  fall  separately  into  the  river,  mix  themselves 
at  once  with  the  stieam,  and  strengthen  the  general 
current.  — Aliddleion,  1683-1750. 

(6.)  Perseveringly . 

(4858.)  Let  no  man,  upon  a  weak  conceit   of 

sobriety  or  an  ill-applied  moderation,  think  or  main- 
tain that  a  man  can  search  too  far,  or  be  too  well 
studied  in  the  book  of  God's  word,  or  in  the  book 
ol  God's  works, — divinity  or  philosophy:  but  rather 
lei  men  endeavour  an  endless  progress  orproficience 
in  both  :  only  let  men  beware  that  they  apply  both 
to  charity,  and  not  to  swelling,  to  use,  and  not  to 
ostentation  ;  and  again,  that  they  do  not  unwisely 
mingle  or  confound  these  learnings  together. 

— Bacon,  1 560-1626. 

(4859  )  The  old  tree  adds  a  new  ring  to  its  girth 
each  year,  and  the  old  mind  can  do  the  same  unless 
it  turns  into  a  fussil.  Humboldt  began  studying  a 
language  at  eighty,  — Augusta  Larned. 

7.  Must  be  personally  applied. 

(4860.)  Truths  are  food.  If  food  be  not  taken, 
what  good  does  it  do  without  application?  The 
word  of  God  is  a  sword  ;  what  will  a  sword  do  if 
it  hangs  up  in  a  man's  chamber  ?  or  if  it  be  not  used 
when  the  enemy  approaches  ?  The  application  of 
the  sword  ot  the  Spirit  gives  the  virtue  to  it.  It  is 
to  no  purpose  else.  Divine  truths  are  physic.  If 
It  be  not  applied,  what  ix»3  is  there  of  physic  ? 

— Sibbes,  i577-i63t. 


(4861.)  If  you  carry  a  candle  with  you  in  the 
open  air,  you  have  to  cover  the  flame  with  your 
hand,  and  to  keep  your  eye  upon  it ;  any  wind  may 
blow  it  out.  But  a  lamp  is  safe  from  the  wind  , 
and,  if  you  carry  it,  your  eye  is  left  free.  Trut'A 
that  you  only  acknowledge,  and  have  not  secured 
by  the  habit  of  your  life,  is  like  the  flame  of  the 
candle.  You  wish  the  aiil  of  its  light  to  guide  you 
when  out  in  dark  places  of  the  world  ;  but,  in  order 
to  shield  it,  you  have  so  to  look  to  it  that  you  can- 
not see  by  it.  Any  wind  of  opposing  influence  may 
extinguish  it.  Put  your  thought  into  a  habit,  and 
instead  of  a  glaring  candle  you  will  have  a  steady 
lamp.  — Lynch,  1818-1871. 

(4862.)  ^Tnn's  fickle  mind  treats  universal  truths 
that  come  Irom  heaven  as  the  eye  treats  the  visible 
heaven  itself.  At  a  distance  from  the  observer,  all 
around  the  blue  canopy  seems  to  descend  and  lean 
upon  the  earth,  but  where  he  stands  it  is  far  above, 
out  of  his  sight.  It  touches  him  not  at  all ;  anil 
when  he  goes  forward  to  the  line  where  now  it 
seems  to  touch  other  men,  he  finds  it  still  far  above, 
and  the  point  which  applies  to  this  lower  world  is 
as  distant  as  ever. 

Heavenly  truth,  like  heaven,  seems  to  touch  all 
the  world  around,  but  not  his  own  immediate 
sphere,  or  himself,  its  centre.  The  grandest  truths 
are  practically  lost  in  this  way  when  they  are  left 
whole.  We  must  rightly  divide  the  word,  and  let 
the  bits  come  into  every  crook  of  our  own  character. 
Besides  the  assent  to  general  truth,  there  must  be 
specific  personal  application.  A  man  may  own 
omniscience,  and  yet  live  without  God  in  the  world. 

— Arnot. 

{4863.)  We,  as  Christians,  have  more  than  an 
external  relation  to  Gospel  truth — even  an  internal 
one.  We  have  an  external  relation  to  every  truth 
known  to  the  mind — the  relation  of  knowledge,  of 
intellectual  apprehension,  of  mental  discernment. 
Such  is  the  relation  which  thousands  have  to  the 
truth  of  Scripture.  Intellectually  they  believe  it. 
They  have  a  connection  with  Christianity,  and  yet 
are  not  Christians.  They  take  the  Bible  very  much 
as  the  ice  takes  the  sun.  1  hey  give  it  a  surface- 
reception  :  they  take  it  upon  themselves,  not  into 
themselves.  But  the  Christian  takes  the  truth  as  it 
is  in  Christ,  not  as  the  ice,  but  as  the  earth  takes 
the  sun — into  himself.  His  connection  with  it  is 
not  an  external,  but  an  internal,  a  responsive 
connection.  When  the  sun  conies  creeping  up  the 
eastern  sky  in  winter,  how  coldly  he  is  received  I 
1  he  earth  gives  no  greeting  ;  makes  no  response  as 
he  approaches.  His  beams  can  send  no  thrill  along 
the  ice  ;  can  start  no  pulsation  amid  the  snow  ;  can 
quicken  no  energy  in  the  leafless  trees  ;  can  bring 
no  flush  to  the  face  of  the  sky.  He  shines  in  vain, 
because  his  rays  elicit  no  response,  quicken  no 
germinant  power.  And  yet  the  ice,  and  snow,  and 
trees,  and  sky  have  a  relation  to  the  sun,  even  in 
midwinter  ;  but  it  is  not  a  warm,  lively  relation, 
but  a  cold  and  lifeless  one — an  external  relation 
only.  So  it  is  with  many  touching  Gospel  truths. 
It  shines  upon  them  ;  but  it  stirs  no  response  in 
their  hearts  :  it  sheds  itself  down  upon  them  ;  but 
they  give  nothing  back  to  it :  it  brings  them  out  of 
darkness,  even  as  the  sun  brings  the  ice  out  of  the 
gloom  of  night  ;  but  they  keep  their  fixed,  frozen, 
insensible  state  still.  Their  relation  to  it  is  a  mere 
external,  unsympathetic,  pccidental   relation.     But 


TRUTH. 


( 


) 


TRUTH, 


consider  the  sun  when  he  comes  wheeling  his  way 
back  from  the  south  in  tlie  glad  spring-season. 
How  the  earth  hails  him  each  morning  with  a 
greeting  warmer  and  sweeter  at  each  repetition  ! 
Tlie  ice  repents  of  its  coldness,  and  weeps  its 
iciness  away  ;  the  snow  hurries  along  in  rivulets,  as 
if  glad  to  lose  its  own  life  in  ministering  to  others  ; 
the  trees  lose  their  rigidity,  and  no  longer  resist  the 
breezes,  but  yield  coqiietlishly  to  them  :  everything 
seems  compliant.  And  how  powerful  the  sun  is  I 
How  the  earth-pulses  beat  at  his  coming  I  How 
the  ground  thrills  and  heaves  with  up-pushing 
growth  !  How  the  grasses  multiply  themselves ! 
and  the  flowers — how  they  bud  and  blossom  I  The 
leaves  thicken  along  the  landscape,  and  the  earth 
hails  the  sun  in  its  wealth  of  overflowing  life.  It  is 
true  the  earth  would  be  nothing  without  the  sun  ; 
but  how  it  glorifies  him  !  how  sweetly  it  responds 
to  his  solicitation  !  and  how  it  pays  him  back  for 
all  his  ministrations  to  it !  Its  relation  to  him,  you 
see,  friends,  is  far  other  than  it  was  in  winter.  It 
is  now  an  internal,  a  vital,  a  responsive  relation — a 
relation  povverlul  in  its  effects,  and  beautiful  in  its 
results.  And  so,  when  Christ  comes  up  in  all  the 
glory  and  warmth  of  His  love,  stands  over  a  man, 
and,  in  a  thousand  convictions  and  ten  thousand 
promptings,  sheds  Himself  down  upon  him,  and 
the  man  opens  his  nature  to  Him,  and  receives 
Him,  he  is  quickened  in  all  the  lorces  of  his  nature. 
He  begins  to  flower  out  morally,  and  be  clothed 
upon  in  beauty.  His  relation  to  Christ  is  no  longer 
an  external  one  ;  it  is  no  longer  inefticient  ;  it  is  an 
internal,  a  vital,  and  a  vitalising  relation.  He  does 
more  than  apprehend  truth  ;  lie  loves  it.  Heart, 
hand,  eye,  every  sense  and  faculty,  are  capaljle  of 
new  and  happy  sensations.  Christ  is  no  longer  afar 
off,  a  being  to  discuss  and  speculate  about  ;  He  is 
in  him  as  the  leaven  is  in  the  loaf — a  power  whose 
workings  are  felt,  and  whose  efi'ects  are  seen. 

— Murray. 

8.  When  once  attained  Is  never  to  be  surren- 
dered. 

(i.)  Not  even  when  its  advocates  prove  inconsis- 
tent and  unworthy. 

(4864.)  Truths  in  many  professors' minds,  are  not 
as  stars  fixed  in  the  heavens,  but  like  meteors  that 
dance  in  the  air  ;  they  are  not  as  characters  en- 
graven in  marble,  but  writ  in  the  dust,  whicu  every 
wind  and  idle  breath  of  seducers  deface.  Many 
entertain  opinions,  as  some  entertain  suitors,  not 
that  they  mean  to  marry  them,  but  cast  them  ofl' 
as  soon  as  new  ones  come. 

— Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(4865.)  No  man  that  is  himself  sober  will  think 
the  worst  name  of  whosoever  shall  have  said  the 
same  thing  were  a  prejudice  to  it,  or  should  more 
oblige  him  to  reject  it,  than  we  should  think  our- 
selves oblij^ed  to  lluow  away  gold  or  diamonds,  be- 
cause an  impure  hand  has  touched  them,  or  to 
deny  Christ,  because  the  devils  confessed  Him. 

— Howe,  1 630- 1 705. 

(4866.)  You  should  be  careful  not  to  slight  any 
truth  because  some  weak  person  may  happen  to 
hold  it,  or  some  bad  character  may  chance  to  defend 
it,  or  because  it  may  be  spoken  to  you  in  a  wrong 
temper,  or  at  an  improper  season.  Recollect  that 
a  guinea  is  exaciy  of  the  same  value  to  you  in 
whatever  way   it   is  presented.     Regardless  of  the 


mind  of  the  giver,  you  would  say — "Gold  is  gold." 
Now  I  only  ask  that  you  wouhl,  in  the  same  way, 
reflect  that  truth  is  truth,  and  tliat  truth  will  serve 
you  where  gold  cannot.  *'  Buy  thou,"  therefore 
"  the  truth,  and  sell  it  not  "  on  any  account  what- 
ever. Stand  by  it,  and  it  will  stand  by  thee  ;  truth 
is  great,  and  shall  prevail  I         Cecil,  1748-181O1 

(2. )  Not  even  when  it  is  assailed  by  doubt, 

(4867.)  When  the  ship  shakes,  do  not  throw 
yourself  into  the  sea.  When  storms  of  doubt 
assault  spiritual  truth,  do  not  abandon  yourself 
to  the  wild  evil  of  the  world  that  "cannot  rest." 
The  ship  rolls  in  the  wind,  but  by  the  wind 
advances.  — Lynch,  1818-1871. 

(4868.)  We  must  not  let  go  manifest  truths 
because  we  cannot  answer  all  questions  about 
them.  —Jeremy  Collier,  1650- 1 726. 

(3.)  Not  even  when  its  evidences  are  for  a  titnt 
obscured. 

(4869.)  When,  upon  sober  trial,  you  have  dis 
cerned  the  evidences  of  the  Christian  verity,  record 
what  you  have  found  true  ;  and  judge  not  the  next 
time  against  those  evidences,  till  you  have  equal 
opportunity  for  a  full  consideration  of  them. 

In  this  case  the  tempter  much  abuseth  many 
injudicious  souls  :  when,  by  good  advice  and  most 
sober  meditation,  they  have  seen  the  evidence  of 
truth  in  satisfying  clearness,  he  will  after  surprise 
them  when  their  minds  are  darker,  or  their 
thoughts  more  scattered,  or  the  former  evidence 
is  out  of  mind,  and  push  them  on  suddenly  then  to 
judge  of  the  matters  of  immortality  and  of  the 
Christian  cause,  that  what  he  cannot  get  by  truth 
of  argument,  he  may  get  by  the  incapacity  of  the 
disputant  ;  as  if  a  man  that  once  saw  a  mountain 
some  miles  distant  from  him  in  a  clear  day,  should 
be  tempted  to  believe  that  he  wa-^  deceived,  because 
he  seelh  it  not  in  a  niisiy  day,  or  when  he  is  in  a 
valley,  or  within  tlie  house;  or  as  if  a  man  that  in 
many  days'  hard  study  hath  cast  up  an  intricate, 
large  account,  and  set  it  right  under  his  hand, 
should  be  called  suddenly  to  give  up  the  same 
account  anew,  without  looking  on  tliat  which  he 
before  cast  up,  when,  as  if  his  first  account  be  lost, 
he  must  have  equal  time,  and  help,  and  fitness, 
before  he  can  set  it  as  right  again.  Take  it  not, 
therefore,  as  any  disparagement  to  the  Christian 
truth,  il  you  cannot  on  a  sudden  give  yourselves  so 
satisfaciory  an  account  of  it  as  lormerly,  in  more 
clearness  and  by  greater  studies  you  have  done. 
—Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4870.)  If  a  man  came  to  you,  and  began  by 
inuendos,  and  insinuations,  or  even  by  explicit 
assertions  ior  which  he  offered  proof,  to  endeavour 
to  destroy  your  confidence  in  an  old  and  tried 
friend,  what  would  you  do  ?  Why,  I  suppose  you 
would  indignantly  refuse  to  listen  to  that  man  ; 
you  would  turn  him  out.  So,  I  often  think,  it 
ought  to  be  with  an  old  tried  doctrine,  a  vital  part 
of  our  Christian  faith.  Might  we  not  in  such  a 
case  say? — "Now,  1  shall  not  listen  to  anything 
against  that.  I  am  suie  it  is  true.  I  made  sure  of 
that  long  ago.  I  have  my  proofs  at  hand,  ready 
for  production  :  but  once  upon  a  time  I  went  fully 
into  them,  and  satisfied  myself :  and  I  will  not  be 
made  restless  and  unhappy  by  having  my  confidenca 
in  that  old  truth  assailed  and  shaken." 


TRUTH, 


C    8io    ) 


TRUTH. 


I  do  not  say  that  the  ri^^ht  course  is  the  same  for 
every  one  here.  Douhtk-ss  there  me  tliose  whose 
vocation  it  is  to  face  and  examine  ami  answer  each 
new  oi)jection  as  it  is  raised  ;  wlio  have  the  time, 
tlie  learning,  the  trainini^,  tliat  aie  needful ;  who 
would  siianiefuUy  fail  ol  their  duty  if  they  failed  to 
do  so.  But  surely  the  ordinary  believer,  who  can 
live  by  the  faith  of  which  he  would  make  but  a 
poor  (lef'^nder,  may  fitly  say  that  there  are  truths 
about  which  he  will  not  reason,  as  there  are  dear 
friends  against  whom  he  will  not  hear  a  word. 

— Boyd. 

(4.)  A^ot  even  when  our  reasons  for  holding  it  are 
disproved. 

(4S71.)  There  is  not  one  Christian  of  many 
thousands  that  at  first  hath  a  full  sight  of  the  solid 
evidences  of  the  Christian  doctrine  ;  but  must  grow 
more  and  more  in  discerning  those  reasons  for  the 
truth  which  he  believeth,  which  in  the  beginning  he 
did  not  well  discern.  It  is  not  the  most  conhiient 
belief  that  is  always  the  strongest  confirmeil  belief; 
but  there  must  be  sound  grounds  and  evidence  to 
support  that  confidence,  or  else  the  confidence  may 
soon  be  shaken  ;  and  is  not  sound,  even  while  it 
seems  unshaken.  And  here  young  beginneis  must 
be  forewarned  of  a  most  dangerous  snare  of  the  de- 
ceiver, because  at  first  the  truth  itself  is  commonly 
received  upon  feeble  and  dclective  grounds  or 
evidence.  It  is  the  custom  of  the  devil  and  his 
deceiving  instruments  to  show  the  young  Christian 
the  weakness  of  those  grounds,  and  thence  to  con- 
clude that  his  case  is  naught.  For  it  is  too  easy  to 
persuade  such  that  the  cause  have  no  belter  grounds 
than  they  have  seen.  For  having  not  seen  any 
better,  they  can  have  no  particular  knowledge  of 
them.  And  they  are  too  apt  to  think  over-higlily 
of  their  knowledge,  as  if  there  w  ere  no  more  reasons 
lor  the  truth  than  they  themselves  have  reached  to, 
and  other  men  did  see  no  more  than  tliey.  And 
thus  poor  souls  forsake  the  truth,  which  they  should 
be  built  up  and  confirmed  in  ;  and  take  tluit  for  a 
reason  against  the  truth,  which  is  but  a  proof  of 
their  own  intirmity.  I  meet  with  very  few  that  turn 
to  any  heresy  or  sect,  but  this  is  the  cause.  They 
were  at  first  of  the  right  mind,  but  not  upon  sound 
and  well-laid  grounds  ;  but  held  the  truth  upon  in- 
sufficient reasons.  And  then  comes  some  deceiver 
and  beats  them  out  of  their  former  grounds,  and  so 
having  no  better,  they  let  go  the  truth  and  conclude 
that  they  were  all  this  while  mistaken.  Just  as  if, 
in  my  infancy,  I  should  know  my  own  father  only 
by  clothes,  and  when  I  grow  a  little  bigger  one 
should  tell  me  that  I  was  deceived,  this  is  not  my 
father,  and  to  convince  me  should  put  his  clothes 
upon  another,  or  tell  me  that  another  may  have  such 
clothes,  and  hereupon  I  should  be  so  loolish  as  to 
yield  that  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  this  man  is  not  my 
father.  As  if  the  thing  were  false  because  my 
reasons  were  insufficient.  Or  as  if  you  should  ask 
the  right  way  in  your  travel,  and  one  should  tell 
you  that  by  such  and  such  marks  you  may  know 
your  way  ;  and  think  you  have  found  those  marks 
a  mile  or  two  short  of  the  place  where  ihey  are  ;  but 
when  you  understand  that  those  are  not  the  marks 
that  you  were  told  of,  you  turn  back  again  before 
you  come  at  them,  anil  conclude  that  you  have 
missed  the  way.  So  it  is  with  these  poor  deluded 
souls,  that  think  all  discoveries  of  their  own  -mper- 
feclions,  ard  every  coniutation  of  their  own  silly 
argument.s,  'o  be  a  confutation  of  the  truths  of  God 


which  thej  did  hold;  when,  aias,  a  strong,  well- 
grounded  Christian  would  make  nothing  of  defend- 
ing the  cause  which  they  give  up  against  mon; 
strong  and  subtle  enemies,  or,  at  least,  would  hold 
it  fast  themselves.  — Baxter,  16 15- 1691. 

9.  Importance  of  a  comprelienslye  and  methodi- 
cal study  of  truth. 

(4872. )  1  beseech  you,  Christians,  consider  of 
this  weighty  truth  ;  it  is  not  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth  that  will  serve  your  turns,  without  a  true 
and  solid  knowledge  of  that  truth  ;  nor  is  it  the 
hearing  or  understanding  of  the  best  grounds  and 
reasons,  or  proofs  in  the  world,  that  will  serve  the 
turn,  unless  you  have  a  deep  and  solid  apprehension 
of  those  proofs  and  reasons.  A  man  that  hath  the 
best  arguments  may  forsake  the  truth,  because  he 
hath  not  a  good  underst<-nding  of  those  arguments. 
As  a  man  that  hath  the  best  weapons  in  the  world 
may  be  killed  for  want  of  strength  and  skill  to  use 
them.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4873.)  It  is  a  rare  thing  to  have  young  professors 
to  understand  the  necessary  truths  methodically. 
And  this  is  a  very  great  defect.  For  a  great  patt 
of  the  usefulness  and  excellency  of  particular  truths 
consi^teth  in  the  respect  they  have  to  one  another. 
This,  therefore,  will  be  a  considerable  part  of  your 
confirmation  and  growth  to  your  understandings,  to 
see  the  body  of  Christian  doctrine,  as  it  were,  at 
one  view,  as  the  several  parts  of  it  are  united  in 
one  perfect  frame  ;  and  to  know  what  aspect  one 
point  hath  upon  another,  and  which  are  their  due 
places.  There  is  a  grent  difference  between  the 
sight  of  the  several  parts  .of  a  clock  or  watch,  as 
they  are  disjointed,  and  scattered  about,  and  the 
seeing  them  conjoined,  and  in  use  and  motion.  To 
see  here  a  pin,  and  there  a  wheel,  and  not  know 
how  to  set  them  all  together,  nor  ever  see  them  in 
their  due  places,  will  give  but  little  satisfaction.  It 
is  the  frame  and  design  of  holy  doctrine  that  must 
be  known,  and  every  part  should  be  discerned  as  it 
hath  its  particular  use  to  that  design,  and  as  it  is 
connected  with  the  other  parts,  liy  this  means 
only  can  the  true  nature  of  theology,  together 
with  the  harmony  and  perfection  of  iruth,  be  clearly 
understood.  And  every  single  truth  also  will  be 
much  better  peiceived  by  him  that  seeth  its  place 
aixl  order,  than  by  any  other.  For  one  truth  ex- 
ceedingly illustrates  and  leads  in  another  into  our 
understanding.  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(4874.)  There  has  seldom  been  an  error  which 
did  not  include  some  important  truth  ;  but  just  as 
surely  as  it  included  some  truth,  so  it  excluded 
others.  And  just  as  oxygen  alone  will  never  make 
the  atmosphere,  or  h}'diogen  alone  will  never  make 
the  ocean,  or  red  beams  al.>iie  wi,l  never  make  the 
sun,  so  one  tact,  or  one  t^et  of  ideas,  will  never 
make  the  truth.  A  truth,  by  abiding  alone,  be- 
comes to  all  intents  an  error. 

— Hamilicn,  1814-1867. 

10.  Its  gradual  development. 

(4875.)  God  hath  several  truths  for  several  sges 
and  generations  :  as  in  a  great  house  there  are 
hangings  for  every  room,  and  the  hangings  of  this 
room  are  not  fit  for  that,  and  the  hanginjis  of  that 
are  not  fit  for  another;  so  God  hath  several  hang- 
ings of  truth,  to  furnish  several  generations  ;  and 
those  that  are  fit  for  this,  are  not  fit  for  that.  Says 
Luther  ;   "  I  see  many  things  that  were  not  seen  by 


WA  TCHFULNESS. 


(    811     ) 


WA  TCHFULNESS. 


Angustine  ;  and  those  that  come  after  me  shall  see 
many  things  that  I  see  not."  "  Oh,"  says  Augus- 
tine, "  there  is  such  a  depth  in  Scripture,  tliat  I  am 
ignorant  of  more  things  than  I  know."  Ye  see  how 
it  is  in  a  room  where  tliere  are  many  pictures  ; 
though  ye  see  some  of  them  presently,  yet  otliers 
have  a  silken  curiain  drawn  before  them,  which  ye 
see  not  immediately  ;  so  here,  though  God  do  reveal 
much  unto  yuu,  yet  there  is  a  silken  curtain  that  is 
still  drawn  belore  some  truths,  and  therefore  even  a 
good  man  may  be  much  mistaken. 

— Bridge,  1600-1670, 

H.  New  truths  are  to  1)3  •welcomed, 

{4876.)  Pray,  friends,  why  should  we  be  afraid  of 
new  lights?  for  why  should  tliere  not  be  new  liglits 
found  out  in  the  fiimament  of  the  Scripture,  as  well 
as  the  astrologers  fmd  out  new  stars  in  heaven  ? 
Be  not  afraid  to  set  open  your  windows  for  any 
light  that  God  shall  make  knoun  unto  you. 

— bridge,  1 600-1 670. 

(4877.)  It  is  a  profound  mistake  to  think  every- 
thing has  been  discovered  ;  it  is  the  same  as  to 
consider  the  horizon  to  be  the  boundary  of  the 
world.  — Lemierre. 

(4878.)  Truth  is  many  sided,  like  a  cube  ;  and  we 
should  never  be  so  tenacious  of  the  aspect  of  it  which 
is  familiar  to  us,  as  not  to  be  ready  to  come  round 
and  view  it  under  another  man's  aspect.  And  as 
for  lamenting  that  progress  of  thought,  which  is 
continually  presenting  the  truth  in  different  aspects, 
such  lamentations  areas  foolish  as  they  are  fruitless. 
Must  the  forms  of  thought,  which  satisfied  men  in  a 
former  generation,  necessarily  content  us  now? 
Before  they  can  be  expected  to  do  so,  you  must  lay 
a  prohibition  upon  the  intellectual  growth  of  the 
species,  and  bid  the  human  mind,  as  Joshua  bade 
the  sun,  stand  still.  — Goulburtt, 


WATCHFULNESS. 

I.  EXPLAINED. 

(4879 )  The  term  is  one  of  varied  significancy. 

It  seems  to  mean,  sometimes,  only  alertness  ;  then 
vigilance,  or  that  state  of  attention  to  t  ne's  duty 
which  we  familiarly  style  being  wiiie  awake — a  state 
in  which  a  man  is  prepared  lor  every  instant  duty. 
It  signihes,  also,  outlooking,  appiehensioii  of  dan- 
ger, as  when  a  sailor  is  on  the  outlook,  or  as  when 
a  sentinel  ts  peering  on  every  side,  suspicious  of 
some  luiking  toe.  It  also  include^  forecnsl,  a  kind 
of  minor  piophecy  of  prudence  and  sagacity,  by 
which  one  anticipates  dangers  or  needs,  and  pro- 
vides for  them  before  they  happen.  In  short, 
watching  includes  every  shade  ot  that  state  which 
puts  a  mind  in  earnest  to  avoid  evil  and  secure 
good.  It  represents  a  man  roused  u[),  and  making 
his  moral  goodness  an  oljjecl  of  constant,  thorough 
attention.  — Beccher. 

II.  WHY  WA  1  CHFULNESS  IS  NECESSARY. 

1.  Because  our  enemy  Is  always  awake.   ' 

(4880.)  Consider,  the  devil  is  always  awake;  is 
it  time  for  them  in  the  city  to  sleep  when  the 
entmy  without  watch,  and  may  be  are  climbing 
th«  walls?  Our  Saviour  takes  it  for  granted  that 
if  •'  the   gotxi  man  of  the   house   had   known  in 


what  watch  the  thief  would  come,  he  would  have 
watched,  and  would  not  have  sufl'ered  his  house  to 
be  broken  up  ;"  ol  all  nights  in  the  year,  he  would 
not  then  have  slept.  Would  Saul  have  slejit  in  his 
trench  if  he  had  thought  David  had  been  so  near? 
or  Sisera  have  lain  down  to  rest  if  he  had  seen  the 
hammer  and  nail  in  Jael's  hand?  "  Hannihal  is  at 
the  gates  !  "  was  enough  to  wake  the  whole  city  of 
Rome,  and  call  them  to  their  arms  ;  and  is  not 
"The  devil  is  at  thy  door,"  enough  to  keep  thee 
out  of  thy  bed  of  sloth  and  nei^ligence  ? 

—  Gtimall,  1617-1679. 

2.  Because  no  man  is  free  from  temptation. 

(4881.)  A  countryman  was  riding  with  an  un- 
known traveller  (whom  he  conceived  honest)  over 
a  dangerous  plain — "This  place,"  said  he,  "is 
infamous  for  robbery ;  but,  for  my  own  part, 
though  often  riding  over  it  early  and  late,  I  never 
saw  anything  worse  than  myself."  "  In  good  time," 
replied  the  other ;  and  presently  demanded  his 
purse  and  robbed  him.  Thus  it  is  that  no  place, 
no  company,  no  age,  no  person  is  temptation-free. 
Let  no  man  brag  that  he  was  never  tempted,  let 
him  not  be  high-minded,  but  fear,  for  he  may  be 
surprised  in  that  very  instant  wherein  he  boasteth 
that  he  was  never  tempted  at  all. 

—  Fuller,  1 608- 1 66 1. 

(4882.)  All  men's  faults  are  not  written  on  their 
foreheads,  and  it's  quite  as  well  they  are  net,  or 
hats  would  need  wide  brims  ;  yet  as  sure  as  eggs 
are  eggs,  faults  of  some  sort  nestle  in  every  man's 
bosom.  There's  no  telling  when  a  man's  sins  may 
show  themselves,  for  haies  pop  out  of  the  ditch  just 
when  you  are  not  looking  for  them.  A  horse  that 
is  weak  in  the  legs  may  not  stumble  for  a  mile  or 
two,  but  It  is  in  him,  and  the  rider  had  better  hold 
him  up  well.  The  tabby  cat  is  not  laj^ping  milk 
just  now,  but  leave  the  dairy  door  open,  and  we 
will  see  if  she  is  not  as  baa  a  thief  as  the  kitten. 
Theie's  fire  in  the  flint,  cool  as  it  looks  :  wait  till 
the  steel  gets  a  knock  at  it,  and  you  will  see. 
Everybody  can  read  that  riddle,  but  it  is  not  every- 
body that  will  remember  to  keep  his  gunpowder  out 
of  tiie  way  of  the  candle.  — Spurgeon. 

3.  Because  we  are  never  safe  from  temptation. 

(4883.)  If  we  would  not  be  surprised  and  foiled 
by  Satan,  we  must,  after  we  have  resisted  him  in 
one  temptation,  be  prepared  to  withstand  another; 
we  are  not  securely  to  give  ourselves  to  rest,  as 
though  the  war  were  at  an  end  ;  but  as  soldiers 
besieged,  after  they  have  sustained  one  assault  and 
given  the  enemy  the  repulse,  do  not  securely  give 
themselves  to  idleness  antl  sleep,  but  prepare  all 
things  ready  for  the  next  conflict,  so  we,  in  the 
intermission  of  the  sjiiritual  conflict,  are  to  prepare 
ourselves  for  the  next  assault,  using  all  means  to 
confirm  our  strength  where  we  discerned  in  the 
time  of  the  fight  we  were  most  weak.  Our  enemy, 
like  a  roaring  lion,  continually  ranges  about,  seek- 
ing whom  he  will  devour ;  his  malice  will  not  let 
him  rest.  Even  when  he  se,  ms  to  entertain  a  truce, 
he  is  most  busy  in  plotting  means  whereby  he  may 
work  our  final  destruction  ;  and,  therefore,  we  are 
never  more  carefully  to  stand  upon  our  guard  than 
when  this  enemy  seems  to  proclaim  a  peace,  or 
fleetn  away  as  though  he  were  vanquished.  The 
Christian  soldier  must  avoid  two  evils  — he  must 
not  faint  or  yield  in  the  time  of  fight,  and  after  a 


WA  TCHFULNESS. 


\    812     ) 


WA  TCHFULNESS. 


▼Ictory  he  must  not  wax  insolent  and  secure. 
When  he  has  overcome,  he  is  so  to  behave  himself 
AS  thou<;h  he  were  presently  again  to  be  assaulted. 
For  Satan's  temptations,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
do  follow  one  in  the  neck  of  tlie  other  ;  and  when 
one  is  past,  another  is  ready  to  overwhelm  us,  if, 
like  skilful  pilots,  we  be  not  ready  to  break  the 
violence  of  that  which  follows,  as  well  as  of  that 
which  went  before.  — Daivname,  1642. 

(4884.)  When  the  soul  puts  her  danger  furthest 
off,  and  lies  most  secure,  ihen  'tis  nearest  ;  there- 
fore labour  to  be  constant  in  thy  holy  care — the 
want  of  this  sjioils  all.  Some  you  shall  have,  that 
after  a  great  fall  into  a  sin  that  hath  bruised  them 
sorely,  will  seem  very  careful  for  a  time  where  they 
set  their  foot,  how  they  walk,  and  what  company 
they  come  in,  but  as  soon  as  the  soreness  of  their 
consciences  wears  off,  their  watch  breaks  up,  and 
they  are  as  careless  as  ever  ;  like  one  that  is  very 
careful  to  shut  up  his  shop  strongly,  and  maybe  sit 
up  late  to  watch  it  also,  for  two  or  three  nights 
after  it  hath  been  robbed,  but  then  minds  it  no 
more.  — Gurtiall,  1617-1679. 

4.  Because  tlie  path  of  duty  Is  so  narro-w. 

(4SS5.)  He  had  need  be  awake  that  walks  upon 
the  brim  of  a  deep  river  or  brow  of  a  steep  hill. 
The  Christian's  path  is  so  narrow,  and  the  danger 
is  so  great,  as  calls  for  both  a  minute  eye  to  discern 
and  a  steady  eye  to  direct ;  but  a  sleepy  eye  can 
do  neither.  Look  upon  any  duty  or  grace,  and 
you  will  find  it  lie  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis — 
two  extremes  alike  dangerous.  Faith  cuts  its  way 
between  the  Mountain  of  Presumption  and  the 
Gulf  of  Despair  ;  patience,  between  stupidity  and 
discontent.  The  like  we  may  say  of  the  rest.  No 
truth  but  hath  some  error  next  door  to  her ;  no 
duty  can  be  performed  without  approaching  very 
near  the  enemy's  quarters,  who  soon  takes  the 
alarm,  and  comes  out  to  oppose  the  Chri:^tian. 
Ought  he  not  then  to  have  always  his  heart  on  the 
watch?  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

6.  Becatise  of  the  difflculty  of  the  Christian's 
task. 

(4S86.)  The  Christian's  work  is  too  curious  to  be 
done  well  between  sleeping  and  waking,  and  too 
important  to  be  done  ill,  and  slubbered  over,  no 
matter  how.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

6.  Because  of  the  tendency  of  the  heart  to  recur 
to  its  oli  sins. 

(4887.)  So  long  as  you  bear  about  these  sinful 
bodies,  never  count  any  corruption  to  be  so  dead  in 
you  that  you  are  perfectly  sale  from  it  henceforth. 
Much  that  seems  dead,  by  a  sad  experience,  will  be 
shown  to  have  been  only  sleeping ;  like  snakes, 
which,  frozen  in  winter,  lose  fur  a  while  their 
power  to  harm,  appear  as  though  there  were  no 
life  in  them,  but,  brought  to  warmth,  can  hiss  and 
sting  again.  How  many  an  old  corruption  is  per- 
haps at  this  very  moment  thus  torpid  within  us, 
which  yet  only  waits  the  returning  warmth  of  a 
suitable  temptation  to  revive  in  all  its  malignant 
strength.  — Trench. 

T.  Because  one  hour  of  heedlessness  may  he  the 
ruin  of  the  souL 


3.)  A  scrivener,  after  he  has  spent  many  days 
ud  taken  much  pains  upon  a  large  patent  or  lease. 


may  at  the  last  woid  make  such  a  blot  that  he  shall 
be  forced  to  write  it  all  over  again.  So  some  foul 
and  enormous  crime  may  dash  and  obliterate  the 
fair  copy  of  a  virtuous  life — may  raze  all  the  golden 
characters  of  Divine  graces  printed  in  the  soul.  As 
one  drop  of  ink  colouretli  a  whole  glass  of  clear 
water,  so  one  sinful  and  shameful  action  .staineth 
all  the  former  good  life;  all  our  fastings  and 
prayers,  all  our  sufferings  for  righteousness,  all  the 
good  thoughts  we  ever  conceived,  all  the  good 
words  we  ever  uttered,  all  the  good  works  we  ever 
performed,  are  lost  at  the  very  instant  of  our  back- 
sliding. — FeatUy,  1582- 1644. 

(4889.)  We  are  always  alert  and  watchful  when 
carrying  the  body  among  its  ten  thousand  adver- 
saries. This  is  the  only  way  for  the  body.  Danger 
must  be  avoided,  and  not  healed  in  its  eflecis. 
Life  is  not  long  enough  to  afford  time  to  patch  up 
all  the  mischiefs  which  would  ensue  if  one  did  not 
foresee  and  avoid  danger. 

But  the  soul  is  more  sensitive  than  the  body.  It 
has  a  greater  surface,  it  has  more  branches,  it  has 
more  arms  and  feet,  it  has  more  nerves,  it  has  more 
injurable  attributes,  than  the  body.  It  carries  them, 
too,  amidst  flying  missiles,  countless,  endless  in  suc- 
cession. When  the  fire  touches  gauze,  it  is  too  late 
then  to  interfere  ;  you  must  not  let  it  touch  it. 
When  the  rap  is  given  to  the  crystal  va^e,  it  is  too 
late  then  to  save  it  ;  you  must  keep  it  free  from 
the  blow.  When  the  frost  has  struck  the  flower, 
watching  is  then  remediless :  you  must  keep  it 
where  the  frost  cannot  reach  it.  We  must  keep 
sensitive  things  free  from  rude  contacts.  That  is 
true  wisdom  in  practical  lile.  And  when  this  task 
respects  the  wliole  soul,  and  all  its  tenuous,  invisible, 
super-sensitive  faculties,  how  much  more  important 
is  pre-vigilance  1  — Beecher. 

(4890.)  There  is  great  need,  also,  of  watchfulness 
on  account  of  dispositions  which  act  subtly,  and 
whose  nature  is  to  be  instantaneous.  When  a  man 
has  once  got  into  the  rapids  at  Niagara,  the  next 
thing  he  will  do  will  be  to  go  over  the  Falls. 
Having  once  got  in,  there  is  no  possibility  of  his 
getting  out.  The  way  for  him  to  escajie  going  over 
the  Falls  is  not  to  get  into  the  rapids.  When  a 
man  has  once  got  a  spark  in  his  powder,  he  need 
not  clap  his  hand  on  it  to  keep  it  from  going  off. 
It  will  do  no  good.  The  only  way  for  him  to  keep 
it  from  going  off",  is  to  keep  the  spark  away  from  it. 
Many  men  can  let  the  cup  alone  if  they  keep  away 
from  it,  who  cannot  if  they  go  where  it  is.  Many 
men  can  abstain  from  lust  if  they  do  not  go  within 
the  circuit  of  its  malaria,  who  cannot  free  them- 
selves from  it  after  they  have  once  become  infected 
by  it.  Many  men  can  control  their  temjier  so  long 
as  they  avoid  everything  calculated  to  arouse  it,  who 
have  no  power  over  it  after  it  has  once  become 
aroused.  Many  of  our  dispositions  must  be  taken 
care  of  beforehand — not  afterwards.  And  when 
they  have  led  us  into  wrong  courses,  our  sin  con- 
sists in  the  fact  that  we  did  not  learn  enough  about 
ourselves  to  know  that  some  parts  of  our  nature 
were  not  to  be  exposed — that  some  parts  of  our 
nature  can  be  carried  with  watching,  with  vigilant 
forelookiiig.  It  is  as  if  there  had  been  written,  in 
letters  of  fire,  on  the  signal-posts  of  life,  by  the 
hand  of  God,  the  words,  "  \Vatch  !  Watch  unto 
prayer  1  Watch  and  pray  !  Watch  unto  the  end !  " 
to  take  away  the  excuses  of  men  for  the  evils  they 


IV.  I  TCHFULlXESS. 


(  813  ) 


IV A  TCHFULNESS. 


commit  under  the  induence  of  their  inflammatory 
dispositions.  — Beecher, 

III.  OUR  VIGILANCE  MUST  BE  COMPRE- 
HENSIVE. 

(489r.)  A  doe  that  had  but  one  eye  used  to  grate 
near  the  sea  ;  and  that  she  might  be  the  more  secure 
from  harm,  she  kept  her  blind  side  towards  the 
water,  from  whence  she  had  no  apprehension  of 
danger,  and  with  ihe  01  her  surveyed  the  country  as 
she  led.  By  this  vigilance  and  precaution,  she 
thought  herself  in  the  utmost  security,  when  a  sly 
fellow  with  two  or  three  of  his  companions,  who 
had  been  poaching  after  her  for  several  days  to  no 
purpose,  at  last  took  a  boat,  and,  fetching  a  com- 
pass upon  the  sea,  came  gently  down  upon  her  and 
shot  her.  The  doe,  in  the  agonies  of  death, 
breathed  out  this  doleful  comijlaint,  "  O  hard  fate  ! 
that  I  should  receive  my  death-wound  from  that 
side  whence  I  expected  no  ill,  and  be  safe  in  that 
part  where  I  looked  for  most  danger." 

— Ai.sop's  Fables, 

(4892.)  Watch  universally;  watch  thy  whole 
man.  The  honest  watchman  walks  the  rounds, 
and  conipasseth  the  whole  town.  He  doth  not 
limit  his  caie  to  this  house  or  that.  So  do  thou 
watch  over  thy  whole  man.  A  pore  in  thy  body  is 
a  door  wide  enough  to  let  in  a  disease,  if  God 
command  ;  and  any  one  faculty  of  thy  soul,  or 
member  of  thy  body,  to  let  in  an  enemy  that  may 
endanger  thy  spiritual  welfare. 

— Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(4893.)  The  city  cannot  be  safe,  unless  the  whole 
line  be  kept,  it  is  all  one  whether  the  enemy  breaks 
in  at  the  front,  flank,  or  rear  of  an  army  ;  or  whetlier 
the  ship  be  taken  at  sea,  or  sink  in  the  haven  when 
the  voyage  is  over.  — Gumall,  1617-1679. 

(4894. )  Many  a  city  has  been  taken  on  its  strongest 
side,  which  was  counted  so  strong  that  no  watch  was 
kept,  even  as  no  danger  was  dreaded  there.  We 
think  that  we  are  not  exposetl  to  one  particular  form 
of  temptation  ;  let  none  b^e  too  sure  of  this  ;  and  in 
resisting  one  form  of  evil,  never  let  us  forget  that 
there  are  others  in  the  world.  Fleshly  sins  may  be 
watched  against,  and  yet  room  be  given  in  the  heart 
for  spiritual  wickedness,  pride,  self-righteousness, 
and  the  like.  The  victories  gained  over  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh  may  minister  to  those  subtler  mischiefs  of 
the  spirit  ;  and  our  fate  may  be  like  that  of  the  hero 
in  the  Maccabees,  who  was  crushed  by  the  falling 
elephant  himself  had  slain.  There  is  a  white  devil 
of  spiritual  pride  as  well  as  a  black  devil  of  fleshly 
lusts ;  and  if  only  Satan  can  ruin  us,  it  is  all  the 
same  to  him  by  what  engines  he  does  it ;  it  is  all  the 
same  to  him  whether  vve  go  down  into  hell  as  gross 
carnal  sinners  or  as  elated  self-righteous  saints.  Set 
a  watch,  therefore,  all  round  your  heart  ;  not  on 
one  side  only,  but  on  all ;  for  you  can  never  be  sure 
«»n  which  side  temptation  will  assail.     — Trench. 

IV.  THINGS  AGAINST  WHICH  IVE  NEED 
TO  BE  ESPECIALLY  WATCHFUL. 

1.  Oar  senses. 

(4895.)  Set  a  strong  guard  about  thy  outward 
senses  :  these  are  Satan's  landing  places,  especially 
the  eve  and  the  ear.  — G%trnall,  1617-1679. 


2.  Our  weak  places. 

(4S96.)  The  old  Greek  poet  sang  of  Achilles  that 
his  mother  dipped  him  when  a  ciiiKl  in  the  river 
Lethe,  and  thereby  rentlered  his  whole  body  invul- 
nerable, except  only  his  heel,  hy  which  she  held 
him.  He  went  to  Troy,  and  wrought  prodigies  of 
valour  in  the  war;  till  at  last  an  arrow  hit  him  in 
the  one  weak  point,  and  he  fell. 

This  old  story  has  too  often  its  parallel  in  the 
Church  of  God.  Some  veteran  in  tlie  Lord's  army, 
who  has  long  fought  bravely  and  successfully  for  his 
Captain,  suddenly  falls,  and  all  men  marvel  at  his 
fail.  There  was  some  vveak  point  in  his  "breast- 
plate." The  devil  saw  it  and  smote  him  there. 
Thus  it  was  with  Noah,  and  Abraham,  and  Moses, 
and  David,  and  Peter,  and  a  host  of  eminent  saints 
since.  Every  Christian  man,  however  holy,  has  one 
or  more  weak  points  in  his  character,  and  over  these 
It  behoves  him  to  keep  especial  guard. 

— Aubrey  C.  Price. 

S.  Little  sins, 

(4897.)  The  truly  pious  is  never  at  rest  in  his 
mind  but  when  he  stands  upon  his  guard  against  the 
most  minute  and  unobservable  encroaches  of  sin,  as 
knowing  them  upon  this  account  more  dangerous 
than  greater ;  that  the  enemy  that  is  least  feared  is 
usually  the  soonest  felt.  For  as  in  the  robbing  of 
a  house,  it  is  the  custom  for  the  sturdiest  thieves  to 
put  in  some  little  boy  at  the  window,  who  being 
once  within  may  easily  open  the  doors  and  let  them 
in  too,  so  the  tempter,  in  rifling  the  soul,  despairs 
for  the  most  part  to  attempt  his  entrance  by  some 
gross  sin,  and  therefore  employs  a  lesser,  that  may 
slide  into  it  insensibly  ;  which  yet,  little  as  it  is, 
will  so  unlock  the  bars  of  conscience  that  the  most 
enormous  abominations  shall  at  length  make  their 
entrance,  and  take  possession  of  it.  Let  no  man 
measure  the  smallness  of  his  danger  by  the  smallne.ss 
of  any  sin  ;  for  the  smaller  the  sin  the  greater  may 
be  the  stratagem.  Some  have  been  choked  by  a  fly, 
a  crumb,  a  grape-stone  :  such  contemptible  things 
carry  in  ihem  the  causes  of  death ;  and  the  soul  may 
be  destroyed  by  sinful  desires,  idle  words,  officious 
lies,  as  well  as  by  perjuries,  blasphemies,  and 
murders,  'i'hose  who  consider  in  how  many  ways 
a  soul  may  be  ruined,  will  not  count  it  sciupulosity 
to  beware  of  the  least  and  slenderest  instruments  of 
damnation.  — South,  1633-1716- 

(4898.)  Watch  against  liltle  sins.  So  we  call 
them  ;  but  in  fact  no  transgression  of  the  laws  of 
an  infinite  and  holy  God  can  be  really  little.  The 
authority  they  violate,  the  majesty  they  insult, 
magnifies  their  guilt.  And  little  sins  are  the  be- 
ginnings of  great  ones.  The  explosion  is  in  the 
spark,  the  upas-tree  is  in  its  seed,  the  fiery  serpent 
is  in  the  smooth  egg,  the  fierce  tiger  is  in  the  play- 
ful cub.  "  Whosoever  hateth  his  brother  is  a 
murderer  :"  and  "Whosoever  looketh  on  a  woman 
to  lust  after  her,  haih  committed  adultery  with  her 
already  in  his  heart."  By  many  little  wounds  death 
may  be  caused  as  surely  as  one  deep  gash.  Yes, 
and  through  one  small  vein,  if  kept  open,  the 
heart's  blood  may  flow  not  less  fatally  than  through 
a  main  artery.  A  few  drops  oozing  through  an 
embankment  may  make  a  passage  for  the  whole 
lake  of  waters.  The  tiny  streams  percolating  the 
mountain  side  may  gather  in  some  hidden  chamber 
until  (with  strength  intensified  by  eveiy  inch  of  the 
v/atery  column  which  enters  it  irom  above,  though 


tVA  TCHFULNESS, 


(     814    ) 


WA  TCHFULNESS. 


thai  column  be  composed  of  but  single  drops)  by 
hydraulic  pressure  it  heaves  up  the  solid  rocks  with 
earthquake  strength.  A  green  log  is  saie  in  the 
company  of  a  candle  ;  but  if  a  few  shavings  are  just 
lighted,  and  then  some  dry  sticks,  the  green  log 
will  not  long  re^ist  the  flames.  Hovv'  often  has  a 
character  which  seemed  steadfast  been  destroyed  by 
little  sins  :  Satan  seldom  assails  in  the  first  instance 
with  great  temptations.  Skilful  general  !  he  makes 
his  approaches  gradually,  and  by  zig-zag  trenches 
creeps  towards  the  fortress  he  intends  at  length  to 
storm.  — NcWinan  Hall. 

4.  Our  old  sins. 

(4899.)  Watch  against  old  sins.  Sitting  on  a 
flowery  bank,  a  viper  crawled  forth  and  bit  us. 
Great  were  the  pain  and  the  peril  before  the  wound 
was  healed.  Shall  we  carelessly  choose  that  very 
bank  on  which  again  to  rest  ?  Would  it  be  wise  t,o 
let  the  pale  primrose  and  the  fragrant  violet  tempt 
us  where  deadly  reptiles  may  still  make  their  nest  ? 
Let  us  waich  against  the  delusion  that  there  is  no 
longer  need  to  watch.  After  a  severe  struggle  the 
victory  was  won  over  our  reigning  lusts,  and  we 
fancy  that  the  peril  is  past.  But  let  us  watch.  The 
rebellion  has  been  put  down  ;  but  though  its  armies 
have  been  scattered  and  its  prince  dethroned,  many 
traitors  lurk  in  secret  places  watching  for  oppor- 
tunities to  renew  the  struggle.  The  embankment  is 
weak  where  it  once  gave  way  ;  and  though  the 
breach  has  been  lepaired  it  must  be  diligently 
watched.  The  flames  have  been  put  out,  but  the 
ash  ;s  are  still  smouldering;  and,  if  the  wind  rises, 
the  fire  may  burst  forth  anew, 

— Newman  Hall. 

6.  Beloved  and  besetting  sins. 

(4900.)  Look  upon  a  city  besieged,  how  wise 
governors  will  take  care  of  every  postern-door  and 
of  every  part  of  the  wall,  and  repair  the  least  decays 
thereof,  but  if  one  gate  be  more  likely  to  be  entered 
than  another,  or  if  any  part  of  the  wall  be  weaker 
or  more  easily  to  be  thrown  down  tlian  another, 
they  will  be  sure  to  set  the  strongest  watch  in  that 
place  where  the  danger  is  most.  And  so  it  is,  or 
should  be,  with  us  in  respect  of  our  most  precious 
souls  :  we  have  here  a  fort  to  keep,  which  is  every 
day  assaulted  by  our  enemies,  and  we  have  a  dis- 
eased soul  of  our  own,  distempered  with  many 
spiritual  maladies ;  but  some  of  them  are  worse 
than  c'liers,  and  some  parts  of  the  fort  are  weaker 
and  more  in  danger  than  others  are — that  is,  there 
are  some  sins,  as  sins  whereunto  by  constitution  of 
body  we  are  most  inclined,  such  as  are  Delilah, 
bosoiu-beloved  sins,  by  which  the  devil  more  easily 
Burpriseth  and  captivatelh  our  souls  ;  and  therelore, 
as  we  should  set  diligent  watch  against  all  sins,  so 
we  should  es))ecially  bend  our  forces  against  those 
that  do  or  may  in  a  more  esjiecial  manner  breed 
our  harm  and  hinder  our  salvation. 

— Marshall,  1655. 

•.  New  Bins. 

(4901.)  Watch  against  nno  sins.  "We  have 
fumed  every  one  to  his  own  7vay,"  But  paths 
(^ithert< I  unattractive  may  allure  us.  Many  a  Chris- 
tian, through  lack  of  watchfulness,  has  been  over- 
powered by  temptations  which,  before  his  conver- 
,ion,  never  assailed  him.  That  we  have  never  yielded 
to  a  particular  sin  is  no  proof  that  we  never  sliall. 
No  act  of  David's  former  life  rendered  conceivable 
tie  treacherous  murder  of  his    brave  and   faithful 


captain  ;  nor  could  Peter  or  his  companions  haM| 
imngined  that  he,  the  most  zealous  of  them  all, 
would  ever,  through  shame  and  cowardice,  disclaim 
his  discipleship.  None  can  tell  what  possibilities 
of  wickedness  lurk  within.  We  may  indignantly 
ask,  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  shonld  do  this 
thing?"  Yet  when  the  fue  finds  us  slumbering 
there  is  no  kind  of  sin  by  which  we  may  not,  like 
Peter,  deny  that  we  know  the  Lord.  He  is  an  un- 
wise commander  who  jdants  no  sentries  in  quarters 
which  the  foe  has  never  yet  assailed.  While  a 
show  of  attack  is  kept  up  on  yonder  bastions,  and 
cannon  vainly  thunder  against  the  main  entrance 
over  which  the  banner  of  the  garrison  flutters 
defiance,  a  small  but  resolute  band,  without  drums 
and  trumpets,  without  waving  plumes  and  flashing 
scarlet,  but  wiih  deadly  weapons  concealed  beneath 
their  gray  disguises,  are  creeping  unobseived 
amongst  those  rocky  crags  in  the  rear,  which, 
because  never  yet  scaled,  were  supposed  to  be 
inaccessible.  No  sentry  above  is  peering  down  to 
detect  the  coming  danger,  and  in  the  roar  of  the 
sham  attack,  the  accidental  noises  made  liy  the  real 
assailants  are  unheard.  And  now  they  reach  the 
summit  and  seize  the  citadel,  while  its  commander 
still  dreams  he  is  successfully  resislirg  the  attack. 
Ah,  how  many  a  fortress  has  been  captured  on  the 
side  which  seemed  too  safe  to  need  defence  1 

— Newman  Hall. 

V.      TIMES     WHEN     WATCHFULNESS     IS 

SPECIALLY  NECESSARY. 

(4902.)  Satan  tempts  after  some  discoveries  of 
God's  love.  As  a  pirate  sets  on  the  ship  that  is 
richly  laden,  so  when  a  soul  hath  been  laden  with 
spiritual  comforts  the  devil  will  be  shooting  at  him, 
to  rob  him  of  all.  The  devil  envies  to  see  a  soul 
feasted  with  spiritual  joy.  Joseph's  pan y  coloured 
coat  made  his  lirethren  envy  him  and  plot  against 
him.  After  David  had  the  good  news  of  the  pardon 
of  his  sin,  which  must  needs  have  filled  him  with 
consolation,  Satan  presently  tempted  him  to  a 
new  sin  in  numbering  the  people  ;  and  so  all  his 
comfort  was  spilt.  — Watson,  1696. 

(4903.)  Be  as  careful,  Christian,  after  extraordi- 
nary prayer,  as  a  man  would  be  after  taking  strong 
physic  ;  a  little  disorder  in  thy  walking  may  be  of 
sad  consequence.  Thou  mayest  soon  do  thyself  more 
mischief  than  all  the  devils  in  hell  can  do  thee. 

— Curnall,  161 7- 1679. 

(4904.)  There  are  critical  times  of  danger.  After 
great  services,  honours,  and  consolations,  we  should 
stand  upon  our  guard.  Noah,  Lot,  Davirl,  and 
Solomon  fell  in  these  circumstances.  Satan  is  a 
foot-pad  :  a  foot-pad  will  not  attack  a  man  going  to 
the  bank,  but  in  returning  with  his  pocket  full  ot 
money.  — Newton,  1 725-1807. 

(4905. )  Demean  thyself  more  warily  in  thy  study 
than  in  the  street.  If  thy  public  actions  have  a 
iiundred  witnesses,  thy  private  have  a  thousand. 
The  multitude  looks  but  upon  thy  actions  ;  thy  con- 
science looks  into  them  :  the  multitude  may  chance 
to  excuse  thee,  if  not  acquit  thee  ;  thy  conscience 
will  accuse  thee,  if  not  condemn  thee. 

— Quarles,  1 592- 1644. 

VI.    MUST  BE  COhJOlNED  WITH  PRAYER. 

(4906.)  He  that  prays,  and  does  not  follow  it 
with  watching,  is  like  him  that  sows  his  field  with 


WA  TCHFULNESS. 


(    815    ) 


WA  TCHFULNESS. 


precious  seed,  but  leaves  the  gate  open  for  swine  to 
come  and  rout  it  up.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4907.)  Watchfulness  without  prayer  is  presump- 
tion, and  prayer  without  watchfulness  is  a  mockery ; 
by  the  first  a  man  invades  God's  part  in  this  great 
work,  and  by  tlie  latter  he  neglects  hisown.  Prayer 
not  assisted  by  practice  is  laziness,  and  contradicted 
by  practice  is  hypocrisy  ;  it  is  indeed  of  mighty  force 
and  use  witliin  its  proper  compass,  but  it  was  never 
designed  to  supply  the  room  of  watchfulness,  or  to 
make  wish  serve  instead  of  endeavour. 

God  generally  j^ives  spiritual  blessings  and  deli- 
verance as  He  does  temporal,  that  is,  by  the 
mediation  of  an  active  and  vigorous  indu-try.  The 
fruits  of  the  earth  are  the  gift  of  God,  and  we  pray 
for  them  as  such  ;  but  yet  we  plant,  and  we  sow, 
and  we  plough  for  all  that ;  and  the  hands  which 
are  sometimes  lifted  up  in  prayer,  must  at  other  times 
be  put  to  the  plough,  or  the  husbnndman  must  ex- 
pect no  crop.  Everything  must  be  effected  in  the 
way  proper  to  its  nature,  with  the  concurrent  in- 
fluence of  the  divine  grace,  not  to  supersede  the 
means,  but  to  prosper  and  make  them  effectual. 

And  upon  this  account  men  deceive  themselves 
most  grossly  and  wretclie<lly,  when  they  expect  that 
from  prayer  which  God  never  intended  for  it.  He 
who  hopes  lo  be  delivered  from  temptation  merely 
by  praying  against  it,  affronts  God,  and  deludes 
himself,  and  might  to  as  much  purpose  fall  asleep 
in  the  midst  of  his  prayers  as  do  nothing  but  sleep 
after  them.  Some  ruin  their  souls  by  neglect  of 
prayer,  and  some  perhaps  do  them  as  much  mischief 
by  adoring  it,  while,  by  placing  their  whole  entire 
confidence  in  it,  they  commit  an  old  piece  of  idolatry 
anti  make  a  god  of  their  very  devotions.  I  have 
heard  of  one,  and  him  none  of  the  strictest  livers, 
who  yet  would  be  sure  to  say  his  prayers  every 
morning,  and  when  he  had  done  bid  the  devil  do 
his  worst,  thus  using  prayer  as  a  kind  of  spell  or 
charm  ;  but  the  old  serpent  was  not  to  be  charmed 
thus  ;  and  so  no  wonder  if  the  devil  took  him  at 
his  word,  and  used  him  accordingly. 

—South,  1633-1716. 

(4908.)  Let  watchfulness  and  prayerfulness  keep 
pace  with  each  other.  Some  are  very  vigilant,  but 
too  self-reliant.  They  resemble  a  sentinel  who,  in 
the  dark  night,  discovers  the  foe  approaching,  and 
goes  furtli  alone  to  meet  an  armed  multitude.  They 
lift  up  brave  hands  against  their  spiritual  foes,  but 
do  not  lift  up  holy  hands  without  doubting  to  the 
Captain  of  our  salvation.  Others  are  very  devout, 
but  not  so  circumspect  as  they  might  be. 

—  T.  R.  Stevenson, 

(4909.)  In  respect  to  all  your  faults,  you  must 
watch.  Prayer  will  not  help  you  unless  you  have 
done  that.  It  will  not  have  time  to  help  you. 
Praying  is  a  good  thing;  but  after  the  boiler  is 
burst,  and  you  are  thirty  leet  in  air,  it  is  not  exactly 
.he  time  to  pray.  You  should  have  watched  the 
steam-gauge,  and  seen  to  it  that  the  boiler  did  not 
burst.  — Beecher. 

(4910.)  With  this  vigilance  prayer  is  to  be  joined. 
When  fleets  near  the  coast  at  niyht,  they  give  and 
receive  signals.  It  is  not  enough  that  lighthouses 
Ram  them  of  danger  ;  so  they  throw  up  rockets  as 
«gnals,  to  be  answered  by  other  signals  from  the 


land.  Now  I  think  these  signals  are  much  like 
our  prayers  and  the  answers  to  them  which  we 
receive.  God  has  set  lighthouses  of  promises  all 
through  the  Bible  ;  but  we  want  something  more 
than  these  ;  so  He  permits  us  to  throw  up  rockets 
of  desire  ;  and  He  signals  back  to  us.  Therefoie 
waich  and  pray  ;  watch  as  those  that  are  talking 
with  God  ;  watch  as  those  that  have  felt  the  affinity 
of  God's  soul  with  theirs,  and  are  living  as  in  the 
presence  of  the  invisible  One.  Then  watching  will 
become  easy  ;  and  then  it  will  become  potent. 

— Beecher. 

VII.  ITS  ADVANTAGES. 

(491 1.)  In  Tynedale,  where  I  was  bom,  not  far 

from  the  Scottish  borders,  I  have  known  my  coun- 
trymen to  watch  every  night  and  day  in  their 
harness,  such  as  they  had,  and  their  spears  in  their 
hands,  especially  when  they  had  any  privy  warning 
of  the  coming  of  the  Scots.  And  so  doing,  although 
at  every  such  beckoning  .some  of  them  spent  their 
lives,  yet  by  such  means  they  defended  their  coun- 
try. And  those  that  so  died,  I  think  that  before 
God  they  died  in  a  good  quarrel.  Shall  we  not 
go  always  armed,  ever  looking  when  our  adversary 
shall  come  upon  us  by  our  slothfulness  ? 

—Ridley,  1554. 

(4912.)  By  thy  watchfulness  thou  shalt  best  learn 
the  evil  of  a  sleepy  state  ;  one  asleep  is  not  .sensible 
of  his  own  snoring,  how  uncomely  and  troublesome 
it  is  to  others  ;  but  he  that  is  awake  is  apprehensive 
of  both.  So,  while  thou  art  spiritually  awake,  thou 
wilt  observe  many  uncomely  passages  in  the  lives  of 
drowsy  professors,  which  will  put  thee  on  thy  guard 
against  the  same  drowsiness. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

VIII.  WATCHFULNESS  AND  HAPPINESS 
ARE  NOT  INCOMPATIBLE. 

(4913.)  Watch  unto  prayer!  Many  have  sup- 
posed that  it  was  impossible  to  be  in  this  state  of 
watchfulness,  and  yet  be  a  buoyant  singing  Chris- 
tian. Just  as  though  a  man  could  not  whistle 
while  acting  as  a  sentinel  1  Just  as  though  he 
could  not  think  of  home,  of  his  lady-love,  and  of  a 
thousand  things  beside,  while  failhlully  watching  at 
his  post.  — Beeche^. 

IX.  A  CAUTIOir. 

(4914.)  Natures  that  are  constitutionally  over- 
prone  to  vigilance,  are  apt  conscientiously  to  redouble 
that  which  they  do  not  need  in  such  measure.  They 
are  of  opinion  that  fear  is  almost  a  positive  Chris- 
tian grace.  They  not  only  set  a  needless  number 
of  sentinels  about  the  dwelling  of  their  soui,  but  they 
seem  to  frequent  the  company  of  the  sentinels  with- 
out more  than  that  of  guests  that  are,  or  should  be, 
within.  Many  a  man  has  little  time  for  Christ  in- 
side, because  he  is  so  busy  watching  the  devil  outside- 
Theirs  is  a  religion  which  is  more  in  fear  ot  evil  than 
in  enjoyment  of  good.  There  are  a  great  many 
men  that  have  never  yet  known  the  prolound  philo- 
sophy of  the  command  :  "  Be  not  overcome  of  evil, 
but  overcome  evil  with  good."  The  way  to  over, 
come  evil  is,  sometimes,  to  watch  it ;  but  a  man 
who  does  nothing  but  watch  evil  v  ill  never  overcome 
it.  — Beecher. 


WICKED.     THE 


(    816    \ 


WICKED.     THE 


WICKED.    THE 

I.     THEIR   GUILT. 
\,  They  are  practical  atheists. 

(4915.)  As  a  scholar,  if  his  master  should  stand 
ill  a  corner  of  the  school  to  watch  what  he  will  do, 
will  behave  himself  while  he  seeth  him  not  as  if  he 
were  not  there  :  lie  will  play  with  his  fellows  and 
talk  to  them,  as  if  there  were  no  master  in  the 
school ;  so  do  the  ungodly  live  in  the  world,  as 
if  there  were  no  God  in  the  world  ;  they  think, 
and  speak,  and  deal  with  the  world,  as  if  there 
were  nothing  but  the  world  for  them  to  converse 
with.  As  for  God,  they  know  Him  not,  but  carry 
themselves  as  if  they  had  nothing  to  do  with  Him, 
and  ask  in  their  hearts,  as  Pharaoh  once  did, 
"Who  is  the  Lord  that  I  should  serve  Him?"' 
And  perhaps  this  made  David  say,  "The  fool  hath 
said  in  his  heart,  There  is  no  God." 

—Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

2.  Their  moral  nature  Is  corrupt. 

(4916.)  The  heart  of  the  wicked  swarms  with  sins 
like  an  ant-hill  with  ants.  It  is  like  a  piece  of  bad 
meat  full  of  worms.  — Vianney. 

3.  They  cleave  to  the  world  as  the  chief  good. 
(4917.)  1  he  heart  of  man  cannot  be  in  this  world 

without  a  hope  ;  and  if  it  hath  no  hope  for  heaven, 
it  must  of  necessity  take  in  at  earth,  and  borrow  one 
there,  such  as  it  can  afford.  What  indeed  can  suit 
an  earthly  heart  better  than  an  earthly  hope?  And 
that  whicli  is  a  man's  hope  (though  poor  and  ped- 
ling)  is  highly  prized,  and  hardly  parted  with  ;  as 
we  see  in  a  man  like  to  drown,  and  hath  only  some 
weed  or  bough  by  the  bank's  side  to  hold  by,  he'll 
die  with  it  in  his  hand  rather  than  let  go  ;  he'll 
endure  blows  and  wounds,  rather  than  lose  his 
hold  ;  nothing  can  take  him  from  it,  but  that  which 
he  hopes  may  serve  better  to  save  him  from  drown- 
ing. 1  hus  it  is  with  a  man  whose  liope  is  set  upon 
the  world,  and  who  expects  his  hap[)iness  to  be  paid 
!'•  from  thence.  Oh  how  such  a  one  hugs  and  hangs 
about  the  world !  you  may  as  soon  persuade  a  lox 
to  £ome  out  of  his  hole,  where  lie  hath  taken 
sanctuary  from  the  dogs.  Such  a  one  to  cast  off  liis 
hopes  !  no,  he  is  undone  without  this  pelf,  and  that 
honour  ;  it  is  that  he  haih  laid  up  his  hopes  in,  and 
uope  and  life  are  ever  kept  in  the  same  hand  ; 
scare  and  threaten  him  with  what  you  will,  still  the 
man's  heart  will  hold  its  own.  Yea,  throw  hell-fire 
into  his  bosom,  and  tell  him  this  love  ol  ihe  world, 
and  making  gold  his  hope,  will  daii.n  him  ancther 
day,  still  he  will  hold  to  his  way.  Felix  is  a  fit 
instance  for  this.  Paul  preached  a  thundering 
sermon  before  him  ;  and  though  the  preacher  was 
at  the  bar,  and  Felix  on  the  bench,  )et  God  so 
aimed  the  «ord,  that  he  tiembled  to  hear  the 
prisoner  speak  of  righteousness,  aiid  judgmetit  to 
come:  yet  this  man,  notwithstanding  his  conscience 
was  struggling  with  the  fears  of  judgment,  and 
some  spaiks  of  divine  vengeance  had  taken  fire  on 
liim,  could  at  the  same  time  be  sending  out  his  heart 
on  a  covetous  errand,  to  look  lor  a  bribe,  for  want 
of  which  he  left  that  blessed  servant  of  God  in  his 
bloody  enemies'  hands ;  for  it  is  said,  "  He  hoped 
tliat  tnoney  should  have  been  given  him  of  I  aul,  that 
ke  might  loose  hull."  — Gtirnall,  1617-1679. 

4.  They  reject  Christ  and  His  salvation. 
(4918.)  If  a  wretched  thief  shall  have  committed 

many  thefts  and  murders,  and  alter  that  his  v\  icked 


deeds  were  known  the  son  of  a  king  should  ba 
brought  to  be  arraigned  and  condemned  for  the 
same,  and  so  bear  the  punishment  thereof,  and  this 
thief  to  be  discharged  and  pardoned — if,  hereupon, 
the  thief  should  rejoice  and  make  a  scoff  at  him, 
when  he  seeth  a  son  of  the  king  to  be  put  to  death 
and  suffer  the^punishment  that  he  deserved,  such  a 
caitiff  deserveth  a  most  horrible  death  :  even  so  at 
this  present  it  fareth  with  us.  Behold  out  Saviour 
Christ,  the  only  Son  of  God,  is  imprisoned,  and  we 
delivered  ;  Pie  condemned,  and  we  pardoned  ;  He 
put  to  death,  and  to  ail  shame,  and  we  received  to 
honour.  It  is  not,  therefore,  for  us  to  be  drowsy- 
headed,  and  live  securely,  and  to  flatter  ourselves 
in  our  sins  and  iniquities.  — Cawdray,  1609. 

IL    THEIR   FOLLY. 

1.  In  neglecting  the  great  calling  of  their  life. 
(4919.)  Do  we  count   him  a  wise  man,  who  is 

wise  in  anything  but  in  his  own  proper  profession 
and  employment,  wise  for  everybody  but  hinisell? 
who  is  ingenious  to  contrive  his  own  misery  and  to 
do  himsell  a  mischief,  but  is  dull  and  stupid  as  to  the 
designing  of  any  real  benefit  and  advantage  to  him- 
self? Such  a  one  is  he  who  is  ingenious  in  his 
calling,  but  a  bad  Christian,  for  Christianity  is 
more  our  proper  calling  and  profession  than  the  very 
trades  we  live  upon  :  and  such  is  every  sinner  who 
is  "wise  to  do  evil,  but  to  do  good  hath  no  under- 
standing." —  Tillotson,  1630-1694. 

2.  In  Bacriflclng  eternity  to  time. 

(4920.)  Take  a  man  that  is  most  addicted  to  hia 
pleasures,  and  bring  him  to  the  mouth  of  a  furnace 
red-hot  and  flaming,  and  ask  him,  "How  much 
pleasure  wouldst  thou  take  to  continue  burning  in 
this  furnace  (or  one  day?"  He  would  answer  un- 
doubtedly, "I  will  not  be  tormented  in  it  one  day, 
to  gain  the  whole  world  and  all  the  pleasures  of  it." 
Ask  him  a  second  time,  "  What  reward  would  you 
take  to  endure  this  fire  half  a  day?"  Propound 
what  reward  you  will,  there  is  nothing  so  pre- 
cious which  he  could  buy  at  so  dear  a  rale  as 
these  torments  ;  anil  yet  how  comes  it  to  pass,  O 
God,  that  lur  a  little  gain,  and  that  vile;  for  a  little 
honour,  and  that  lugitive  ;  for  a  little  pleasure,  and 
that  lauing  J  men  so  little  regard  hell-hre,  which  is 
eternal  ?  — Swinnock,  1673. 

(4921.)  To  them  who  believe  another  life  after 
this,  an  eternal  state  of  happiness  or  misery  in 
another  world  (which  is  but  a  reasonable  postula- 
tum  or  demand  among  Christians),  there  is  nothing 
in  mathematics  more  demonstrable  than  the  folly  ol 
wicked  men  ;  for  it  is  not  a  clearer  and  mora 
evident  principle,  that  the  whole  is  greater  than  a 
part,  than  that  eternity,  and  the  concernments  of  it, 
are  to  be  preferred  belore  time. 

I  will  iheiefore  put  the  matter  into  a  temporal 
case,  that  wicked  men  who  understand  anything  o' 
the  rules  and  principles  of  worldly  wisilom  may  see 
the  imprudence  of  an  irreligious  and  sniful  course, 
and  be  convinced  that  this  their  way  is  their  folly, 
even  themselves  being  judges. 

Is  that  man  wise,  as  to  his  body  and  his  health, 
who  only  clothes  his  hands,  but  leaves  his  whole 
body  naked  ?  wlio  provides  only  against  the  tooth- 
ache, and  neglects  vvhole  troops  ol  mortal  diseases 
that  are  ready  to  rush  in  upon  him?  Just  thus 
does  he  who  takes  care  only  lor  this  vile  body,  but 


WICKED.     THE 


(    817     ) 


WICKED.     THE 


neglects  his  precious  and  immortal  soul ;  who  is 
very  solicitous  to  prevent  small  and  temporal  in- 
conveniences, but  takes  no  care  to  escape  the 
damnation  of  hell. 

Is  he  a  prudent  man,  as  to  his  temporal  estate, 
that  lays  designs  only  for  a  day,  without  any  pro- 
spect to,  or  provision  for,  the  remaining  part  <>1  his 
life?  even  so  does  he  that  provides  lor  the  sliort 
time  of  his  life,  but  takes  no  care  for  all  eternity, — 
which  is  to  be  wise  for  a  moment,  but  a  fool  for 
ever,  and  to  act  as  untowaidly  and  as  crossly  to  the 
reason  of  things  as  can  be  iniiigined — to  regard  time 
as  il  it  were  eternity,  and  to  neglect  eternity  as  if  it 
were  but  a  short  lime.      — Tillotson,  1630-1694. 

S.  In  provoking  God  to  anger. 

(4922.)  Is  it  wisdom  in  any  man  to  neglect  and 
disoblige  Him  who  is  his  best  friend,  and  can  be 
his  sorest  enemy?  or  with  one  weak  troop  to  go  out 
to  n  Mt  him  that  comes  against  him  wiih  thousands 
of  thousands?  to  lly  a  small  danger  and  run  upon  a 
greater?  Thus  does  every  wicked  man  that  neglects 
and  contemns  God  who  can  save  or  destroy  him  ; 
who  strives  with  his  Maker  and  provoketh  the  Lord 
to  jealousy,  and  with  tlie  small  and  inconsiderable 
forces  of  a  man  takes  the  field  against  the  mighty 
God,  the  Lord  of  hosts  ;  who  fears  ihem  that  can 
kill  the  body,  but  after  tliat  have  no  more  that  they 
can  do;  but  fears  not  Him  who,  alter  He  hath 
killed,  can  destroy  both  body  and  soul  in  hell  ;  aiul 
thus  does  he  who,  for  fear  of  anything  in  tiiis  world, 
ventures  to  displease  God  ;  for,  in  so  doing,  he  runs 
away  from  men,  and  falls  into  the  hands  of  the 
living  God  :  he  flies  from  a  temporal  danger,  and 
leaps  into  hell.  — TilloUon,  1630-1694. 

4.  In  deferring  repentance. 

(4923 )  Is  not  he  an  imprudent  man,  who  in 
matters  of  greatest  moment  and  concernment, 
neglects  oppoitunities  never  to  be  retrieved  ;  who, 
standing  upon  the  shore,  and  seeing  ilie  tide  mak- 
ing haste  towards  him  apace,  and  that  he  hath  but 
a  lew  minutes  to  save  hiinselt,  yet  will  lay  himself 
to  sleep  there  till  the  cruel  sea  rush  in  upon  him 
and  overwhelm  him  ?  And  is  he  any  better,  who 
trifles  away  this  day  of  God's  grace  and  patience, 
and  foolishly  adjourms  the  necessary  work  of  repent- 
ance and  the  weighty  business  of  religion  to  a  oying 
hour.  — Tilloson,  1630-1694. 

5.  In  despising  God's  threatenings. 

(4924.)  "The  wicked,"  says  the  Psalmist,  "con- 
temn Gi'd  ;"  and  why?  "because  they  say,  He  will 
not  require."  Where,  they  ask,  is  the  promise  ol 
His  coming  ?  Ah,  they  forget  tiiat  it  is  as  true  of 
God's  threatenings  as  of  His  promises,  that  although 
He  delays,  He  does  not  deny  them.  A  reprieve  is 
..ot  a  pardon.  It  defers  the  execution  ;  but  does 
not  necessarily  cancel  the  sentence.  And  liowmany 
men  in  business,  hard  pressed  lor  money,  and  totter- 
ing on  the  edge  of  bankruptcy,  have  known  too  well 
that  the  bill  which  tliey  hud  got  the  money-lender 
to  renew  was  not  thereby  paid  ?  that,  however 
often  renewed,  it  has  still  to  be  paid  ?  and  that  the 
oftener,  indeed,  it  is  renewed,  with  interest  added 
to  the  cajjital,  the  debt  but  grows  the  larger,  the 
payment  grows  tlie  heavier?  Just  so  shall  it  be 
with  you  if  you  persist  in  rejecting  the  Saviour, 
whom  in  God's  name  I  now  press  on  your  accept- 
ance.    E»  try  day  of  mercy  here  will  but  aggravate 


the  misery  of  hereafter,  and  the  reckoning,  by  being 
long  of  coming,  will  be  the  more  terrible  when  it 
comes — as  that  storm  roars  with  the  loudest  thunder 
which  has  been  the  longest  gathering. 

— Guthrie. 

6.  In  thoughtlessly  following  the  multitude  who 
do  evil. 

(4925.)  I  remember  a  passage  a  gentleman  told 
me  he  saw  upon  a  liridge  over  the  Severn.  A  man 
was  driving  a  flock  of  fat  Iambs,  and  something 
meeting  them  and  hindering  their  passage,  one  of 
the  lambs  leaped  upon  the  wall  of  the  bridge,  and 
his  legs  slipping  from  under  him,  he  fell  into  the 
stream,  and  ihe  rest  seeing  him  did  one  aftei  another 
leap  over  the  bridge  into  the  stream,  and  were  all,  or 
almost  all,  drowned.  Those  that  were  behind  did 
little  know  what  was  become  of  them  that  were  gone 
before,  but  thought  that  they  might  venture  to 
follow  iheir  companions.  But  as  soon  as  they  were 
over  the  wall  and  falling  iieadlong,  the  case  was 
altered.  Even  so  it  is  with  unconverted  carnal  men 
— one  dieth  by  them  and  liiops  into  hell,  and  ancther 
follows  the  same  way,  and  yet  they  will  go  after  them 
because  they  think  not  whither  they  are  going.  Oh  I 
but  when  death  has  once  opened  their  eyes,  and  they 
see  what  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  even  in 
another  world,  then  what  would  they  give  to  be 
where  they  were?  — Baxter,  1615-1691. 

7.  In  their  heedlessness  of  the  plainest  warnings. 

(4926.)  Alas  !  how  few  thoughts  do  unholy 
wretches  spend  with  themselves,  in  considering  what 
is  doing  in  another  world?  They  see  sinners  die 
daily  in  the  prosecution  of  their  lusts,  but  do  no  more 
think  what  is  become  of  tliem  (that  they  are  in  hell 
burning  and  roaring  for  their  sin),  than  the  fish  in 
the  river  do  think  what  is  become  of  their  fellows 
that  were  twicht  up  by  their  gills  from  them,  even 
now  wiih  the  angler's  hook,  and  cast  into  the  seeth- 
ing pot  or  frying-pan  alive.  No,  as  those  silly 
creatures  are  ready  still  to  nibble  and  bite  at  the 
same  hook  that  struck  their  fellows,  even  so  are 
men  and  women  forward  to  catch  at  those  baits  still 
of  siniul  pleasures,  and  wages  of  unrighteousness,  by 
which  so  many  millions  of  souls  belore  them  have 
been  hooked  into  hell  and  damnation. 

— Guruail,  161 7-1679. 

(4927.)  A  recent  traveller,  relating  the  incidents 
of  his  vo5'age  to  India,  writes  : — "  Flocks  of  greedy 
albatrosses,  petrels,  and  Cape  pigeons,  crowded 
around  the  ship's  stern.  A  hook  was  baited  with 
fat,  when  upwards  ol  a  dozen  albatrosses  instantly 
rushed  at  it,  and  as  one  alter  another  was  being 
hauled  on  deck,  the  remainder,  regardless  of  the 
struggles  of  the  captured,  and  the  vociferations  of 
the  crew,  kept  s\\imining  about  the  stern.  Not 
even  did  those  birds  which  were  indifferently  hooked 
and  made  their  escape,  desist  from  seizing  the  bait 
a  second  time."  1  hus  to  the  letter  do  ungodly  men 
rusli  at  the  baits  of  Satan  ;  they  see  others  pcriali, 
but  remain  careless,  and  even  when  they  are  all  but 
destroyed  themselves  they  persist  in  their  infatuation. 

— iipiirgeon. 

8.  In  wasting  upon  trifles  the  time  that  should 
be  used  in  securing  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 

(4928.)  Miserable  man,  and  art  thou  cutting  thy 
short  life  out  into  chips,  and  spending  thy  little  tims 
upon  trifles,  when  the  salvation  of  thy  soul  is  yet  to 

3f 


WICKED.    THE 


(    8i8    ) 


WICKED.     THE 


be  wrought  out  ?  Art  thou  tricking  and  trimming 
thy  slimy  carcass,  wliile  thy  soul  is  dropping  into 
hell  ?  What  is  this,  but  to  be  painting  the  door, 
when  the  house  is  on  fire  ;  for  a  man  to  be  curious 
about  trimming  his  face,  when  he  is  not  sure  his 
head  shall  stand  a  day  on  his  shouldeis  !  It  was  an 
unseasonable  time  for  Belshazzar  to  be  feasting  and 
quaffing,  when  his  kingdom  lay  at  stake,  and  an 
enemy  at  the  gates.  It  would  have  become  a  wise 
prince  to  have  been  rather  fighting  on  the  wall, 
than  feasting  in  his  palace,  and  fatting  himself  for 
his  own  slaughter,  which  soon  befell  liim  (Dan.  v. 
30).  And  it  would  become  thee  better  to  call  upon 
thy  God,  poor  sinner,  and  lie  in  tears  for  thy  sins 
at  His  foot,  if  yet  haply  thy  pardon  may  be  ob- 
tained, than  by  wallowing  in  thy  sensual  pleasures, 
to  stupify  thy  conscience,  and  lay  it  asleep,  by  wliich 
thou  canst  only  gain  a  little  ease  from  tiie  trouble- 
some thoughts  of  thy  approaching  misery. 

— Curnall,  1617-1679. 

9.  In  usln^  that  time  to  prepare  for  themselves 
futtiTc  misery. 

(4929.)  My  children,  if  you  saw  a  man  prepare  a 
great  pile  of  wood,  heaping  up  fagots  one  upon 
another,  and  when  you  asked  him  what  he  was 
doing,  he  were  to  answer  you,  I  am  preparing  the 
fire  that  is  to  burn  me,  what  would  you  think  ? 
And  if  you  saw  this  same  man  set  fire  to  the  pile, 
and  when  it  was  lighttd  throw  himself  upon  it, 
what  would  you  say  ?  This  is  what  we  do  when  we 
commit  sin.  It  is  not  God  who  casts  us  into  hell ; 
we  cast  ourselves  into  it  by  our  sins. 

—  Vianttey, 

10.  In  shrinking  from  hell  but  not  from  sin. 

(4930.)  You  would  not  burn  in  hell,  but  you  will 
kindle  the  fire  by  your  sins,  and  cast  yourselves  into 
it  ;  you  would  not  be  tormented  with  devils  in 
hell,  but  you  will  do  that  which  will  certainly  pro- 
cure it  in  despite  of  all  that  can  be  said  against  it. 
It  is  just  as  if  you  would  say,  "  I  will  drink  this 
ratsbane,  or  other  poison,  but  yet  I  would  not  die. 
I  will  cast  myself  headlong  from  the  top  of  a 
steeple,  but  yet  1  will  not  take  away  my  life.  I  will 
put  this  fire  into  the  thatch  of  my  house,  but  yet  I 
will  not  burn  it."  Just  so  it  is  with  wicked  men. 
They  will  be  wicked,  and  live  after  the  flesh  and 
the  world,  and  yet  they  would  not  be  damned. 
But  do  you  not  know,  that  the  means  do  lead  unto 
the  end  ?  and  that  God  hath,  by  His  righteous  law, 
concluded,  that  ye  must  repent  or  perish  ?  He 
that  will  take  poison  may  as  well  say,  "I  will  kill 
myself ; "  lor  U  will  prove  no  better  in  the  end  ; 
though  perhaps  he  loved  it  for  the  sweetness  of  the 
sugar  that  was  mixed  with  it,  and  would  not  be 
persuaded  it  was  poison,  but  that  he  might 
take  it  and  do  well  enough  ;  but  it  is  not  his  con- 
ceits and  confidence  that  will  save  his  life.  So  if 
you  will  be  drunkards,  or  fornicators,  or  worldlings, 
or  live  after  the  flesh,  you  may  as  well  say  plainly, 
"We  will  be  damned  ;  "  for  so  you  shall  be  unless 
you  turn.  Would  you  not  rebuke  the  folly  of  a 
thief  or  murderer  that  would  say,  "I  would  steal  or 
kill,  but  I  will  not  he  hanged  ;"  when  he  knows, 
that  if  he  do  the  one,  the  judge  in  justice  will  see 
that  the  other  be  done.  If  he  says,  *'  I  will  steal 
and  murder,"  he  may  as  well  say  plainly,  "  I  will 
be  hanged  ; "  so  if  you  will  go  on  in  a  carnal  life, 
you  may  as  well  say  plainly,  "  We  will  go  to  hell." 
— Baxter,  1615-1691. 


11.  In  glorying  in  their  prosperity. 

(4931.)  A  man  that  is  going  to  the  gallows,  foi 
the  present  is  well,  has  a  great  guard  to  attend  him, 
an  innumerable  multitude  of  people  to  follow  him. 
You  would  think  that  hardly  could  a  man  be  such 
a  sot  and  fool  as  to  think  all  this  should  be  done 
for  his  honour,  and  not  for  his  punishment,  and 
should  only  consider  how  he  is  accompanied,  but 
not  whither  he  goes.  Many  such  fools  there  are  in 
the  vNorld,  that  only  consider  how  they  are  attended 
and  provided  for,  but  never  consider  whither  they 
are  going.  *'0  wretch  I  whither  goest  thou?"  we 
may  say  to  one  that  should  pride  himself  in  the 
resort  of  company  to  his  execution  ;  "  dost  thou 
not  see  thou  art  led  to  punishment,  and  after  an 
hour  or  two  these  will  leave  thee  hanging  and 
perishing  infamously  as  the  just  reward  of  thine 
offences  ?  "  So  many  that  shine  now  in  the  pomp 
and  splendour  of  worldly  accommodations,  and  are 
merry  and  jocund  as  if  all  would  do  well.  Alas  I 
poor  creatures,  whither  are  they  going  ?  "  They 
take  the  timbiel  and  the  harp,  and  rejoice  at  the 
sound  of  the  organ  ;  they  spend  their  days  in 
wealth,  and  in  a  moment  go  down  into  hell."  Yo 
still  live,  and  are  going  to  punishment,  but  mind  it 
not  ;  but  your  wealth,  and  honours,  and  servants, 
and  friends,  will  leave  you  to  your  own  doom  ;  and 
yet  you  are  merry  and  jocund  as  if  your  journey 
would  never  end,  or  not  so  dismally  ;  as  if  you  were 
hastening  to  a  kingdom,  and  not  to  an  eternal 
prison.  One  moment  puts  an  end  to  all  their  joy 
tor  ever.  — Manton,  1620- 1 667. 

12.  In  mistaking  their  prosperity  for  an  evt 
dence  of  the  Divine  favour. 

(4932.)  No  marvel  if  the  worldling  escape  earthly 
afflictions.  God  conects  him  not,  because  He  love* 
him  not.  He  is  base  born  and  begot.  God  will  not 
do  him  the  favour  to  whip  him.  1  he  worlds  afflicts 
him  not,  because  it  loves  him  :  for  each  man  ii 
indulgent  to  his  own.  God  uses  not  the  rod  wherj 
He  means  to  use  the  Word.  The  pillory  or  scourgi 
is  for  those  malefactors  that  shall  escape  execution. 
— Hall,  1 5  74- 1 656. 

(4933.)  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  wicked  thinl 

they  have  God's  blessings,  because  they  are  in  th« 

warm  sun.     They  are  like  little  children,  who  think 

every  one  loves  them  that  gives  them  sugar-plums. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1079. 

13.  In  expecting  at  last  to  be  admitted  t4 
heaven. 

(4934.)  Is  he  wise,  who  hopes  to  attain  th< 
end  without  the  means,  nay,  by  means  that  ar« 
quite  contrary  to  it  ?  such  is  every  wicked  man 
who  hopes  to  be  blessed  hereafter  without  being 
holy  here,  and  to  be  happy,  that  is,  to  find  a 
pleasure  in  the  enjoyment  of  God,  and  in  the 
company  of  holy  spirits,  by  rendering  himself  as 
unsuitable  and  unlike  to  them  as  he  can. 

—  2  'illolsoit,  1 630- 1 694, 

III.    THEIR  MISERY. 

1.  They  are  ignorant  of  the  Author  of  their 
being,  the  purpose  of  their  existence,  and  the 
source  of  true  joy ;  and  are  thus  pitiable  as  moral 
idiots. 

(4935.)  An  ungodly  man  knoweth  not  that  which 
he  was  made  for.  He  is  like  a  knife  that  cannot 
cut ;  a  ship  that  will  not  endure  the  water  ;  i  house 


WICKED.     THE 


(    819    ) 


WICKED.     THE 


thtt  is  not  fit  to  dwell  in.  What  is  a  man's  wit 
worth,  but  for  its  proper  end?  If  man  was  made 
but  to  eat,  and  drink,  and  play,  and  sleep,  and 
build,  and  plant,  and  stir  awhile  about  the  earth, 
and  have  his  will  over  others,  and  his  fleshly 
pleasure,  and  then  die,  then  the  ungodly  may  be 
called  wise ;  but  if  he  be  made  to  prepare  for 
anotlier  world,  and  to  know,  and  love,  and  live  to 
God,  they  are  worse  than  bedlams,  and  more 
dangerously  beside  themselves. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

(4936.)  Abraham  sat  one  day  in  the  grove  at 
Mamre,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  sorrow- 
ing. Then  his  son  Isaac  came  to  him  and  said, 
"  My  father,  why  mournest  ihou  ?  what  aileth 
thee?" 

Abraham  answered  and  said  :  "My  soul  mourn- 
eth  for  the  people  of  Canaan,  that  they  know  not 
the  Lord,  but  walk  in  their  own  ways,  in  darkness 
and  foolishness." 

"Oh,  my  father,"  answered  the  son.  "is  it  only 
this?  Let  not  thy  heart  be  sorrowful,  for  are  not 
these  their  own  ways  ?  " 

Then  the  patriarch  rose  up  from  his  seat,  and 
•aid:  "Come,  and  follow  me."  And  he  led  the 
youth  to  a  hut,  and  said  to  him  :  "  Behold  !" 

There  was  a  child  which  was  imbecile,  and  the 
mother  sat  weeping  by  it.  Abraham  asked  her  : 
"  Why  weepest  thou  ?  " 

Then  the  mother  said  :  "  Alas,  this  my  son  eateth 
and  drinketh,  and  we  minister  unto  him  ;  but  he 
know^  not  the  face  of  his  father  nor  of  his  mother. 
Tims  his  life  is  lost,  and  the  source  of  joy  is  sealed 
to  him." 

Ihus  said  the  mother  weeping;  and  Abraham 
went  and  preached  the  name  of  the  Lord  who  made 
heaven  and  earth.  — F.  A.  Krtimmacher. 

2.  Tbey  are  morally  short-slgbted. 

(4937.)  It  is  the  misfortune  of  some  to  be  aflllcted 
with  that  kind  of  defective  sight  which  prevents 
them  from  seeing  to  an  ordinary  distance  ;  they  are 
unable  to  distinguish  the  most  towering  and  colossal 
objects  if  placed  at  a  short  remove,  while  th&  merest 
atom  brought  close  to  the  eye  is  magnitieil  as  with 
a  microscupe.  An  affliction  analogous  to  this  in 
the  moral  sight,  but  pregnant  with  incomparably 
greater  danger,  is  the  universal  malady  of  mankind  ; 
and  our  Lord  insists  on  the  urgency  oi  its  removal. 
He  finds  them  mistaking  phantoms  for  realities, 
and  realities  for  phantoms  ;  calling  an  atom  a  world, 
and  a  world  an  atom  ;  practising  on  themselves 
an  endless  succession  of  delusions ;  and  He  gives 
them  the  alternative  of  a  remedy,  or  death.  He 
approaches  them  while  gazing  on  the  near  pro- 
spectus of  time,  and  by  raising  and  extentling  tlie 
point  of  sight  He  adds  eternity  to  tlie  view,  and 
leaves  them  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  a  bound- 
less eternity.  — Harris. 

3.  They  are  excluded  from  tlie  Divine  promlsea, 
and  exposed  to  the  Divine  wrath. 

(4938  )  He  is  Almighty  to  pardon  ;  but  He  will 
not  use  it  for  thee  an  impenitent  sinner.  Thou 
hast  not  a  friend  on  the  bench,  not  an  attribute  in 
all  God's  name  will  speak  for  thee  :  Mercy  itself 
will  sit  and  vote  with  the  rest  of  its  fellow-attributes 
for  thy  damnation.  God  is  able  to  save  and  help 
in  a  time  of  need  ;  but  upon  what  acquaintance  is 
it  that  thou  art  so  bold  with  God,  as  to  expect  His 


saving  aran  to  be  stretched  forth  for  thee?  Though 
a  man  will  rise  at  midnight  to  let  in  a  child  that 
ciies  and  knocks  at  his  door,  yet  he  will  not  take 
so  much  pains  for  a  dog  that  lies  howling  there. 
This  presents  thy  condition,  sinner,  sad  enough,  yet 
this  is  to  tell  thy  story  fairest ;  for  that  almighty 
power  of  God  wliich  is  engaged  for  the  believer's 
salvation,  is  as  deeply  obliged  to  bring  thee  to  thy 
execution  and  damnation.  What  greater  tie  than 
an  oath  ?  God  Himself  is  under  an  oath  to  be  the 
destruction  of  every  impenitent  soul.  That  oath 
which  God  sware  in  His  wrath  against  the  unbeliev- 
ing Israelites,  that  they  should  not  enter  into  His 
rest,  concerns  every  unbeliever  to  the  end  of  the 
world.  In  the  name  of  God  consider,  were  it  but 
the  oath  of  a  man,  or  a  company  of  men,  that  like 
those  in  the  Acts,  should  swear  to  be  the  death  of 
such  an  one,  and  thou  wert  the  man,  would  it  not 
fill  thee  with  fear  and  trembling  night  and  day,  and 
take  away  the  quiet  of  thy  life,  till  they  were  made 
friends  ?  What  then  are  their  pillows  stuffed  with, 
who  can  sleep  so  soundly  without  any  horror  or 
amazement,  though  they  be  told,  that  the  almighty 
God  is  under  an  oath  of  damning  them  body  and 
soul,  without  timely  repentance  ? 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

4.  Their  happiness  is  short-lived,  and  fall  of 
drawbacks  while  it  lasts. 

(4939-)  In  all  their  jollity  in  this  world,  they  are 
but  as  a  book  fairly  bound,  which  when  it  is 
opened  is  full  of  nothing  but  tragedies.  So  when 
the  book  of  their  consciences  shall  be  once  opened, 
there  is  nothing  to  be  read  but  lamentations  and 
woes.  — Stbbes,  1 571-1635. 

(4940.)  This  world  is  indeed  "present"  to  you, 
sinners,  for  you  cannot  say  it  will  be  yours  the  next 
moment.  Were  it  not  wistlom  before  you  truck 
with  the  devil,  to  inquire  what  title  he  can  give  you 
to  earthly  joy  ?  Ere  long  you  will  have  nothing 
\i\x\.  caveat  emptor.  — Uuritall,  1617-1679. 

(4941.)  Many  sinners  who  seem  so  jocund  in  out 
eyes,  have  not  such  merry  lives  as  you  think  for. 
A  book  may  be  fairly  bound  and  gilded,  yet  have 
but  sad  stories  writ  within  it.  Sinners  «ill  not  tell 
us  all  the  secret  rebukes  that  conscience  from  the 
Word  gives  them.  If  you  will  judge  of  Herod  by 
the  jollity  of  his  feast,  you  may  think  he  wanted  no 
joy  ;  but  at  another  time  we  see  that  John's  ghost 
walked  in  his  conscience  :  and  so  doth  the  Word 
haunt  many  a  one,  who  to  us  appear  to  lay  nothing 
to  heart;  in  the  midst  of  their  laughter  their  heart 
is  sad  ;  you  see  the  lightning  in  their  face,  but  hear 
not  the  thunder  that  rumbles  in  their  conscience. 
— Guritall,  1617-1679. 

(4942.)  Who  would  think,  now,  that  sees  how 
quietly  the  multitude  of  the  ungodly  live,  that  they 
must  very  shortly  lie  roaring  in  everlasting  flames? 
They  go  about  their  work  as  cheerfully,  they  talk 
as  pleasantly  as  if  nothing  ailed  them,  or  as  if  they 
were  as  far  out  of  danger  as  an  obedient  believer. 
Like  a  man  that  hath  the  falling  sickness,  you  would 
little  think  while  he  is  labouring  as  strongly  and 
talking  as  heartily  as  another  man,  how  he  will 
presently  (all  down,  lie  gasping  and  foammg,  and 
beating  his  breast  in  torment ;  so  it  is  with  these 
men.  They  are  as  free  from  the  fears  of  hell  as 
others ;  yea,  and  for  the  most  part,  they  have  less 
doubts  and  disquiet  of  mind  than  those  who  shall 


WICKED.     THE 


(     820    ) 


WICKED.     THE 


be  saved.  They  are  now  in  their  own  element,  as 
the  fish  in  tlie  water;  but  liitle  knows  that  silly 
creature  when  he  is  most  fearlessly  and  delightfully 
swallowing  down  the  bait,  how  suddenly  he  shall 
be  snatched  out  and  lie  dead  upon  the  bank.  And 
as  little  think  these  careless  sinners  what  a  change 
they  are  near.  The  sheep  or  the  ox  is  driven  quietly 
to  llie  slaughter,  because  he  knows  not  whither  he 
goes  ;  if  lie  knew  it  were  to  his  death,  you  could 
not  drive  him  so  easily.  How  contented  is  the 
swine  when  the  butcher  s  knife  is  shaving  his  throat, 
little  thinking  ihat  it  is  to  prc-pare  for  his  deaih  ! 
Why,  it  is  even  so  with  these  sensual  Careless  men. 
They  fear  the  mischief  least  when  they  are  nearest 
to  it,  because  they  see  it  not. 

— Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

5.  Their  prosperity  Is  short-lived,  and  an  evi- 
dence of  God's  abhorrence  of  them. 

(4943.)  Prosperity  to  the  wicked  is  as  wind  to  a 
bladder,  which  swells  it  until  it  burst;  like  a  ship  when 
she  is  top  and  top-gallant,  soonest  cast  away  ;  like 
a  spider  in  a  king's  house,  soonest  swept  down. 
When  a  wicked  man  is  at  the  higb.esi,  then  he  is 
nearest  his  tall  ;  and  usually  when  he  is  in  the  ruff 
of  all  his  bravery,  God  so  orders  it  that  he  is  humbled 
on  a  sudden.  — De  Trugillo. 


(4944.)  The   pleasures   of  the  world   are   God's 
common    gilis,  which   He  bestows  as   well  on  the 
wicked   and    reprobate,  as   upon  His  own  children 
and  servants.      Yea,  in  truth  much  more  plentifully 
have   the  enemies  of  God  and  His  grace  enjoyed 
them,  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  this  day, 
than  those  who  have  feared  and  served  the  Lord. 
F"or  seeing  they  are  to  us,  by  reason  of  our  corrup- 
tion, like  knives  in  the  hands  of  children,  and  sweet 
and  lickeious  meats,  whereon  tiiey  are  apt  to  surfeit  ; 
therefore  the  Lord  suffermg  wicked  men,  as  it  were 
slaves  and    vassals,    to  take   their  liberty  and    use 
what  diet  they  list,  as  not  regarding  their  spiritual 
health  and  life,  nor  caring  what  becomes  of  them, 
has  always  had  special  care  of  His  own  children, 
dieting  them  with  such  a  small  pittance  as  they  may 
well  digest    without   impairing   the  health   of  their 
souls,  nnil  mixing  these  ilelicious  drinks  of  pleasures 
in  the  bitter  cup  of  afBiclions,  wliereby  lie  has  still 
purged    away   these  gioss   humours  of  corruption, 
when  they  began  to  abound  with  them  through  their 
dainty  iare.     ...     In  which  respect   the    Lord 
deals  with  mankind  as  the  wise  physician  with  his 
sick  ]iaiients  ;  those  over  whom  he  is  most  careful, 
in  regard  both  of  the  love  he  bears  them  and  the 
hope  he  conceives  of  their  recovery,  he  strailly  diets, 
forbidding  them  the  use  of  those  meats  and  drinks 
which,   by   reason   of  their  disease,   they  love  and 
desire  ;  and  gives  them  many  a  bitter  potion  and 
troublesome  plaster,    that   he   may   hereby    restore 
them  to   health  ;  whereas  contrariwise  those  whom 
he  neglects,  because  their  diseases  arc  desperate  antl 
past   liope  of  cure,  are  permitted   to  use  what  diet 
they  list  without  restraint.     And  thus  the  Lord  gives 
to  His  dear  servants  whom  He  intends  to  cure  the 
bitter  potions  of  afflictions,  and  restrains  ihem  from 
worldly  pleasures  which  are  so  delightful  to  their 
carnal    appetites ;    whereas    He   sutlers    reprobate 
men  who  are  desperately  sick  in  sin,  to  glut  them- 
selves with  these  tleshly  delights,  and  to  have  their 
owr.  caj'.ial  app**'ie  as  the  rule  and  direction  of  their 
diet.  — Dozvname,  1644. 


(4945.)  I  have  seen  the  wicked  (saith  David)  ia 
great  power,  and  spreading  himself  like  a  green  bay 
tree.  And  why  like  a  green  bay  tree?  Because  in 
tlie  winter,  when  all  other  trees,  as  the  vine  tree,  fig 
tree,  apple  tree,  &c.,  which  are  more  profitable  trees, 
are  vvithered  and  naked,  yet  the  bay  continueth  as 
green  in  the  winter  as  the  summer.  So  fareth  it 
with  wicked  men,  when  the  children  of  God,  in  the 
storms  of  persecutions  and  afflictions,  seem  withered, 
and,  as  it  were,  dead,  yet  tlie  wicked  all  that  time 
flourish,  and  do  ajipear  green  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  ;  they  wallow  in  worldly  wealth,  but  it  is  for 
their  destruction  ;  they  wax  fat,  but  it  is  for  the  day 
of  slaughter.  — Spencer,  1658. 

(4946.)  Suppose  a  man  were  in  prison,  committed 
for  some  great  offence,  and  condemned  to  die  under 
the  displeasure  of  his  prince  or  state  ;  and  his  servant 
should  come  to  him,  saying,  "  Sir,  be  of  good  com- 
fort, your  wife  is  well  at  home,  you  have  very  sweet 
children,  an  excellent  crop  of  corn,  your  neighbours 
love  you  dearly,  your  sheep  and  cattle  thrive,  and 
all  your  houses  are  in  good  repair  and  order." 
Would  he  not  answer  that  servant,  and  say,  "  What 
is  all  this,  so  long  as  I  am  condemned  to  die?" 

Thus  it  is  with  every  wicked  man.  He  is  under 
the  displeasure  of  the  great  God,  a  condemned  man, 
and  God  is  angry  with  him  every  day  ;  anil  if  his 
heart  were  open  to  be  sensible  of  it,  he  would  say, 
"  You  tell  me  of  my  friends,  and  goods,  and  name, 
and  trade  ;  but  what  is  all  this,  so  long  as  I  am  a 
condemned  person,  and  God  is  angry  with  me 
every  day  I  rise?"  — Bridge,  160x3-1670. 


(4947.)  Heaviness  to  a  saint  may  endure  for  the 
night  of  this  life,  but  joy  will  come  in  the  morning 
of  death  ;  whereas,  the  freshest  streams  of  sinful 
delights  will  end  in  a  salt  sea  of  sorrows  and  tears. 
The  most  prosperous  sinner  is  but  like  a  thief  that 
goeth  through  a  pleasant  meadow  to  the  gallows. 
— Swinnock,  167  i. 

(4948.)  A  striking  illustration  of  the  folly  of 
counting  God  out  of  one's  plans  for  life  is  given  in 
the  course  of  William  M.  Tweed,  whose  death  is 
recently  announced.  Here  was  a  man  who  sought 
wealth  and  power,  and  who  for  a  lime  seemed  suc- 
cessful in  tlieir  pursuit.  Apparently  he  did  not 
propose  to  obey  God  or  to  live  for  a  life  to  come. 
What  he  wanted  was  worldly  prosperity.  He 
thought  he  had  it.  He  went  to  Congress.  He 
gathered  his  millions.  He  controlled  the  material 
interests  of  the  metropolis  of  his  country.  He 
openly  defied  public  sentiment  and  courts  of  justice 
in  the  prosecution  of  his  plans.  He  was  a  brilliant 
and  therefore  a  dangerous  example  of  successful 
villany.  But  the  promise  of  prosperity  for  even  the 
life  which  now  is,  is  only  to  the  godly.  As  William 
M.  Tweed  lay  dying  in  a  prison-house  in  the  city  he 
once  ruled,  his  confession  of  bitter  disappointment 
was,  "  My  life  iias  been  a  failure  in  everything. 
There  is  nothing  I  am  proud  of."  If  any  young 
man  wants  to  come  to  an  end  like  this,  the  way  to 
it  is  sini[)le  and  plain.  "The  great  God  that 
formed  all  ihings  both  rewardeih  the  fool  and  re- 
wardeth  transgressors."  "The  way  ol  the  wicked 
He  turneth  ui)si>ie  down." — American  Sunday' 
School  Times,  April  lOth,  1878. 

6.  Their  consciences  are  seared. 
(4949.)  As   that   man's  disease  is  most  perilous 
i  who  lies  sick  and  feels  not  his  sickness,  nor  cannot 


WICKED.     THE 


(     821     ) 


WICKED.     THE 


complain  of  one  part  more  than  another,  for  then 
the  disease  hath  equally  troubled  the  whole  body  : 
so,  likewise,  they  who  live  wallowing  in  sin,  so 
foryetiing  God  and  all  goodness  that  they  feel  no 
remorse  of  conscience  for  their  sins,  are  desperate, 
and  almost  past  all  recovery.     — Cawdray,  1609. 

7.  Even  to  Divine  influences  they  are  insensible, 

(4950.)  Take  a  dead  man,  and  put  fire  to  his 
flesh,  pinch  him  with  pincers,  prick  him  with 
needles,  he  feels  it  not  ;  scourge  him,  and  he  cries 
not;  shout  in  his  ear,  he  hears  not;  threaten  him 
or  speak  him  fair,  he  regards  not,  he  answers  not. 
This  is  ihe  condition  of  one  that  is  spiritually  dead 
in  sin  :  let  the  judgments  of  God  and  terrors  of  the 
law  he  laid  home  to  his  conscience,  let  the  flames 
of  hell-fire  flash  in  his  soul,  he  regards  it  not  ;  he  is 
sermon-jiroof  and  judgment-proof.  He  hears  of 
judgments  abroad  anil  sees  judgments  on  others, 
nay,  let  judgments  come  home  to  his  own  doors, 
ytt  he  thinks  all  is  well.  Like  Solomon's  fool,  he 
oiitstands  all  reproof.  Let  the  minister  hit  him 
never  so  hume,  "They  have  stricken  me,"  says  he, 
"hut  1  was  not  sick;  they  have  beaten  me,  but 
they  miyht  as  well  have  beaten  the  air."  Sucii  and 
so  deplorable  is  the  sad  condition  of  every  senseless 
sinner.  — De  Trugillo. 

(4951.)  The  prophet  Isaiah,  describing  his 
wretched  countrymen,  in  their  state  of  apo«tacy 
and  obduracy  oi  heart,  says  of  them,  "The  Lorti 
hath  poured  out  upon  you  the  spirit  of  deep  sleep, 
and  hath  closed  your  eyes."  Present  the  most 
finished  and  beautiful  picture  before  the  eyes  of  a 
person  asleep  ;  he  sees  no  more  of  it  than  if  it  was 
not  there.  And  how  often  are  the  pictures  of  our 
sin  and  deformity,  and  the  righteousness  and  beauty 
of  the  Redeemer,  drawn  by  the  pencil  of  the  Spirit 
in  the  Scriptures  of  truth,  how  often  are  they  ollered 
to  the  understandings  of  men,  who  yet  see  neither  ? 
And  why?  Because  "a  spirit  of  deep  sleep," 
induced  by  their  attachment  to  something  in  the 
world,  that  comes  in  competition  with  the  doctrines 
or  precepts  ol  the  gospel,  "is  fallen  upon  them," 
10  that,  "having  eyes,  they  see  not." 

Go  into  the  chamber  of  him  that  sleepeth,  and 
read  to  him  a  piece  of  the  most  interesting  news, 
play  him  the  sweetest  notes  on  the  tuiest  instrument, 
or  sound  tlie  loudest  anil  shrillest  trumpet  :  while 
he  sleeps,  he  hears  nothing.  To  as  little  purpose 
do  the  minister.-,  of  the  gospel  preach  to  the  obdu- 
rate worldling  the  "glaii  tidings  of  great  joy,  that 
anto  us  is  born  a  Saviour,"  or  tlie  awful  tidings  of 
AS  great  terror,  that  "  iie  cometh  to  execute  judg- 
ment on  all  that  are  ungodly."  The  heavenly 
Strains  of  love  and  mercy  sounded  forth  by  the  harp 
of  David,  when  breathed  on  by  the  spirit  of  the 
Holy  One,  or  the  piercing  trumpet  of  eternal  jutlg- 
ment,  waxing  louder  anel  louder  on  the  top  of  Sinai, 
are  equally  unheard  by  him.  He  sleeps  on  still, 
and  takes  his  rest ;  and  therefore,  "  having  ears, 
he  hears  not." 

Ofier  to  the  nostrils  of  one  who  sleepeth  the  most 
fragrant  flowers  that  grow,  the  rose  and  the  lily  in 
their  higiiest  pericction,  or  the  richest  sjjices  pro- 
duced in  the  warmest  climes  :  the  flowers  have  no 
iragrance,  tiie  spices  no  odours  for  him.  And  are 
tliere  not,  who  take  no  ilelight  in  that  blessed 
Person,  from  the  comlort  and  refreshment  He 
attbrdeth  to  the  drooping  soul,  as  well  as  Irom  His 
matchless  beauty  and  perieclion,  styled  "  The  Rose 


of  Sharon,  and  the  Lily  of  the  valley  "  ?  who  can 
perceive  no  "sweet-smelling  savour  of  life  unto  life  " 
in  that  gospel  of  peace,  which  is  compared  unto 
"  myrrh,  and  frankincense,  and  all  powders  of  the 
merchant "  ? 

Open  the  mouth  of  him  that  sleepeth,  and  fill 
it  with  the  choicest  honey  ;  you  have  no  thanks 
from  him,  for  he  tasteth  it  not.  As  little  relish 
hath  one  in  a  state  of  sin  and  worldly-mindedness 
for  those  promises  which,  when  the  penitent 
believer  tasteth,  he  crieth  out  in  transport,  "  O 
how  sweet  are  Thy  words  unto  my  mouth  :  yea, 
sweeter  than  honey  unto  my  throat  ! " 

Lastly,  a  person  during  the  time  of  sleep  feels 
no  wounds  or  bruises,  and  passes  imperceptibly 
into  the  regions  of  dt-ath.  And  this  is  the  very 
apostolical  description  of  hardened  sinners,  who 
have  given  themselves  over  to  lasciviousness,  to 
work  all  uncleanness  with  greediness  :  they  are  said 
to  be  "past  feelmg,  having  their  conscience  seared 
with  a  hot  iron."  — Homey  1 730-1 792. 

(4952.)  The  person  spoken  of  (Eph.  v.  14)  is 
first  said  to  be  asleep  ;  and  surely  this  gives  the  idea 
of  one  who  may  be  sui rounded  by  danger  without 
knowing  it ;  may  be  approached  by  enemies  without 
perceiving  it;  may  have  the  assassin's  blow  aimed 
at  his  heart  without  attempting  to  repel  it.  In  like 
manner,  those  by  whom  he  is  best  loved  may  watch 
beside  his  pillow,  and  he  is  unconscious  of  their 
presence.  "A  feast  of  fat  things,  a  feast  of  wines 
on  the  lees,  of  fat  things  full  of  marrow,  of  wines 
on  the  lees  well  refined,"  may  be  spread  before 
him,  yet  his  ajipetiie  is  not  awakened  ;  riches  and 
honours  may  be  placed  within  his  reach,  yet  his 
hand  is  not  stretched  firth  to  grasp  them.  And 
why?  Because  he  is  asleep.  His  eyes  are  closed, 
his  ears  are  dulled,  his  senses  are  locked  up  by  the 
power  of  slumber ;  and  forgetfulness  of  his  best 
interest,  and  inattention  to  outward  objects,  have 
come  upon  him. 

And  thus  is  it  with  the  unconverted  man.  He  is 
surrounded  by  dangers  which  he  heeds  not ;  by 
enemies  whom  he  regards  not.  The  murderer  of 
souls  has  struck  at  his  heart,  and  he  has  made  no 
resistance.  He  may  be  active  in  worldly  matters, 
and  eager  for  worldly  objects  ;  but  he  has  no  eager- 
ness, no  activity  for  spiritual  concerns.  Wrath, 
and  that  eternal,  is  even  now  pursuing  him ; — the 
bottomless  abyss  has  yawned  at  his  very  feet — and 
is  ready  to  engulph  him  ; — the  thunders  of  the  law 
are  pealing  lorth  their  denunciations  against  him; — 
and  this  immortal  being  remains  heedless  and  un- 
concerned when  there  is  but  one  step  between  him 
and  the  lake  of  fire.  And  there  is  an  eye  of  love 
watching  over  him  for  good  ;  there  is  a  voice  of 
mercy  appealing  to  his  soul ; — there  is  the  marriage 
supper  ol  the  Lamb  spread,  and  he  is  invited  there- 
to ; — there  are  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ 
placed  within  his  reach,  with  this  encouraging 
inscription,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive," — yet  he 
hears  not  the  voice  which  cries,  "Look  unto  Me, 
and  be  ye  saved  ;" — he  sees  not  the  bleeding  form 
which  stands  between  us  and  the  stroke  of  Divine 
justice  ;  the  famished  wretch  hastens  not  to  taste 
the  feast ;  the  beggar's  hand  is  not  put  forth  to  lay 
hold  on  the  bounilless  treasures.  He  is  asleep;  and 
feels  not,  sees  not,  hears  not,  knows  not  these 
thmgs. 

And  yet  he  is  often  not  devoid  of  strong  feeling 
with  respect  to  the  things  of  this  world  ;  nor  dcsti- 


WICKED,     THE 


(    822     ) 


WICKED.     THE 


hite  of  regard  for  the  decencies  of  life.  He  may 
find,  or  think  he  finds,  hajipiness  in  this  very  for- 
getfulness  of  God  ;  nay,  in  his  own  way,  he  may 
make  a  profession  of  religion,  and  have  a  dreamy 
prospect  of  salvation  to  be  hereafter  received.  He 
thinks  that  he  may  now  give  his  faculties  to  earthly 
objects  and  to  self-indu!j;ei)ce, — that  he  may  offer 
to  God  the  service  of  the  lij)  whilst  his  own  passions 
ajid  inclinations  receive  the  adoration  of  the  heart  ; 
— and  he  flatters  himself  that  he  is  happy  now,  and 
that  he  shall,  unconverted  and  separated  from  the 
love  of  God  as  he  is,  be  happy  in  His  presence 
eternally.  Alas  !  how  delusive  is  this  dream,  spring- 
ing as  it  does  from  the  sleep  of  carnal  security. 
When  for  a  moment  he  thinks  seriously,  he  finds 
himself  not  really  happy,  and  when  that  hour  comes 
in  which  the  unawakened  sinner  shall  be  called  into 
tiie  presence  of  his  Judge,  where  shall  be  all  the 
joys  either  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  which  he  pro- 
mised to  himself;  "It  shall  even  be  as  when  an 
hungry  man  dreameth,  and,  behold,  he  eateth  ;  but 
he  awaketh,  and  his  soul  is  empty  ;  or  as  when 
a  thirsty  man  dreameth,  and,  behold,  he  is  faint  and 
his  soul  hath  appetite  ;  "  his  anticipations  were  but 
a  dream,  founded  on  self-delusion,  and  ending  in 
bitter  and  irretrievable  disappointment.    — Kyle. 

(4953.)  He  is  further  said  to  be  dead  ;  and  if  the 
image  of  sleep  expresses  his  unconcern  about 
spiritual  things,  that  of  deaih  denotes  no  less 
forcibly  the  absence  of  every  principle  of  spiritual 
exertion,  every  source  of  si>iritual  good.  He  is 
dead,  not  bodily,  but  spiritually,  "  in  trespasses 
and  sins."  He  may  indeed  appear  respectable  and 
decent  in  his  outward  conversation  ;  he  may 
exhibit  many  virtues  in  the  course  of  his  life  ;  but 
these,  though  they  may  deceive  his  fellow-creatures, 
are  seen  by  .the  all-discerning  eye  of  God  to  be  "  of 
the  earth  earthy."  In  truth,  even  as  in  natural 
death,  there  is  a  difference  between  one  corpse  and 
another  in  the  tokens  of  mortality,  in  proportion 
as  corruption  has  advanced  more  or  less  in  the 
work  of  destruction,  so  is  it  with  respect  to  spiritual 
deadness.  Some  appear  still  alive — others  lately 
dead  — others  so  full  of  corruption  as  to  be  absolutely 
disgusting  ;  but  these  are  only  varieties,  while  the 
state  in  which  they  are  is  one  and  the  same.  They 
are  bodies  without  souls,  incapable  of  seeing,  or 
hearing,  or  feeling,  or  acting — ready  to  return  to  the 
dust  and  never  to  move,  or  breathe,  or  think  again, 
until  they  shall  hear  from  their  graves  the  voice  of 
the  Son  of  Man,  and  ri.se  to  stand  before  His  judg- 
ment seat.  And  even  thus  there  may  be,  and  there 
are,  many  degrees  oi  spiritual  corruption  between 
the  open,  abandoned  profligate,  ami  the  amiable, 
pleasing,  but  still  unconverted  sinner ;  but  no 
matter  how  dissimilar  may  be  the  way  in  which 
death  has  touched  them,  their  state  is  the  same,  lor 
"he  that  hath  not  the  Son  of  God,  hath  not  life." 
In  truth,  the  great  want  of  the  unconverted  is,  the 
absence  of  the  Spirit  of  God  from  his  soul  ;  and 
whilst  this  is  difficult,  it  is  in  vain  that  he  may 
exhibit  the  most  brilliant  powers  of  fancy,  the 
widest  grasp  ol  understanding,  the  hand  open  to  the 
calls  ol  poverty,  or  the  heart  warmed  and  affection- 
ate to  his  family  and  his  friends.  Lacking  ihe  great 
principle  of  spiritual  life  ;  the  love  of  God  in  Christ, 
these  are  but  the  embroideries  of  the  pall  which 
covers  the  carcass,  but  the  flowers  twined  round  that 
naked  skeleton  on  whose  dry  bones  the  Spirit  has 
not   yet    breathed.       He  feels    not,   and    therefore 


struggles  not  against  the  burden  of  his  sins,  even  as 
the  lifeless  body  feels  not,  and  struggles  not  against 
the  mound  that  is  heaped  over  its  grave  ;  and  even 
as  that  corpse  cannot  raise  itself  again  to  life,  so  hij 
condition,  as  expressed  in  our  Tenth  Article,  "  ia 
such,  that  he  cannot  turn  "  and  prepare  himself  by 
his  own  natural  strength  "and  good  woiks,  to  faith 
and  calling  upon  God."  He  is  dead — he  is  lost — 
and  except  a  power  from  without  himself  quickens 
him,  he  is  only  preparing  for  "  the  second  death." 

—Kyle. 

8.  They  are  led  captive  by  the  devil  at  his  will, 

(4954-)  Thou  who  art  in  the  kingdom  of  dark, 
ness,  knowest  not  whither  thou  goest.  As  the  01 
is  driven  to  the  shambles,  but  he  knows  not  whither 
he  goes  ;  so  the  devil  is  driving  thee  before  him  to 
hell,  but  thou  knowest  not  whither  thou  goest. 
—  Watson,  1696. 

9.  They  cany  with  them  the  elements  of  misery. 

(4955.)  The  wicked  carry  their  prison  about  with 
them  wherever  they  go  ;  because  their  own  heart  is 
a  dark  dungeon,  their  pa.ssions  adamantine  chains, 
and  scourges  to  the  soul  ;  whilst,  on  the  contrary, 
those  whom  Jesus  Christ  has  delivered,  and  who 
have  renounced  the  world,  experience  the  lil)erty  of 
the  children  ol  God,  even  in  the  midst  of  bonds. 

—St.  Marihe. 

10.  There  awaits  them  a  terrible  hour  when  they 
will  be  tindecelved  as  to  their  true  state. 

(4956.)  Like  as  a  man  living  in  health,  wealth, 
and  all  manner  of  pleasure,  should  have  this  of  a 
sudden  made  known  unto  him,  that  he  is  condemned 
of  treason  committed  against  his  prince  and  country, 
and  that  therefore  he  is  forthwith  to  be  deprived  of 
life  and  of  all  those  pleasures  which  he  doth  enjoy, 
there  being  no  hope  of  pardon — we  cannot  fully 
conceive  in  mind,  or  express  in  word,  the  greatness 
of  his  grief,  sorrow,  and  fear :  even  so  much  more 
grievous  and  fearful  a  thing  it  will  be  to  incur  the 
displeasure  and  anger  of  God,  the  loss  of  eternal 
joy  and  happiness,  together  with  those  endless  pains 
which  are  prepared  for  the  wicked. 

—  Cawdray,  1609. 

(4957.)  The  misery  of  such  as  have  not  God  foi 
their  God,  in  how  sad  a  condition  are  they,  when 
an  hour  of  distress  comes  !  This  was  Saul's  case  : 
"  I  am  sore  distressed  ;  for  the  Philistines  make 
war  against  me,  and  the  Lord  has  departed  from 
me."  A  wicked  man,  in  time  of  trouble,  is  like  a 
vessel  tos^d  on  the  sea  without  an  anchor,  it  falls 
on  rocks  or  sands  :  a  sinner  not  having  God  to  be 
his  God,  though  he  makes  a  shift  while  health  and 
estate  last,  yet,  when  these  crutches,  which  he 
leaned  upon,  are  broken,  his  heart  sinks.  It  is  with 
a  wicked  man  as  it  is  with  the  old  world,  when  the 
flood  came  ;  the  waters  at  first  came  to  the  valleys, 
but  then  the  people  would  get  to  the  hills  and 
mountains,  but  when  the  waters  came  to  the  moun- 
tains, then  there  might  be  some  trees  on  the  high 
hills,  and  they  would  climi)  up  to  them  :  ay,  but  then 
the  waters  did  rise  up  to  the  tops  of  the  trees  :  now 
all  hopes  of  being  saved  were  gone,  their  hearts  failed 
them.  So  it  is  with  a  man  that  hath  not  God  to 
be  his  God  :  if  one  comfort  be  taken  away,  he  hath 
another  ;  if  he  lose  a  child,  he  hath  an  estate  ;  ay, 
but  when  the  waters  rise  higher,  death  comes  and 
takes  away  all ;  now  he  hath  nothing  to  help  him- 


WICKED.     THE 


(    823    ) 


WICKED.     THE 


telf  with,   no   God   to  go   to,   he  must  needs  die 
despairing.  —  Watson,  1696. 

11.  Tlieir  destruction  is  sure. 

(495S.)  A  pack-horse,  which  all  the  day  long  hath 
gone  noddling  with  abundance  of  treasure,  hath  at 
iii<;hi  all  taken  from  him,  and  is  turned  a-grazing, 
or  put  into  a  stable,  so  that  all  tlie  benefit  he  hath 
gained  by  it  is  that  he  hath  only  felt  the  weight  of 
it,  and  probably  got  a  galled  back  for  his  labour. 
Thus  many  rapacious,  wretched  rich  men,  such  as 
are  little  better  than  pack-horses,  who  all  their  life 
long  carry  the  things  of  this  world,  lade  themselves 
with  thick  clay,  rise  early  and  late,  and  eat  the 
bread  of  carefulness  to  get  a  little  pelf,  and  a  galled 
conscience  to  boot,  are  on  a  sudden  either  tor  ill 
tising  or  ill  getting  their  wealth,  turned,  unless  God 
be  more  merciful,  into  a  filthy  stable,  into  hell, 
where  their  pay  is  everlasting  torment. 

— Drexeliui. 

(4959.)  As  the  stone  naturally  inclines  to  the 
centre,  tlie  proper  place  and  home  ;  so  the  wicked 
are  never  at  home,  and  in  their  proper  place,  till 
they  be  in  hell.  — Adams,  1654, 

(4960.)  "  Wot  unto  him  that  striveth  with  his 
Maker."  'Tis  easy  to  tell  which  of  these  will  be 
worsted.  What  can  he  do,  but  break  his  shins, 
that  dasheth  them  against  a  rock  ?  A  goodly 
battle  there  is  like  to  be,  when  thorns  contest  with 
stubble,  and  stubble  with  fire. 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

12,  Hence  their  temporary  prosperity  Is  not  to 
lead  us  to  envy  tbem. 

(4961.)  Would  it  not  be  accounted  folly  in  a  man 
that  is  heir  to  many  thousands  per  annum  that  he 
should  envy  a  stage-player,  clothed  in  the  habit  of 
a  kin<r,  and  yet  not  lieir  to  one  foot  of  land  ? — who, 
though  he  have  the  form,  respect,  and  apparel  of  a 
king  or  nobleman,  yet  he  is,  at  the  same  time,  a 
very  beggar,  and  worth  nothing.  Thus,  wicked 
men,  though  they  are  arrayed  gorgeously,  and  faie 
deliciously,  wanting  nothing,  and  having  more  than 
heart  can  wish,  yet  they  are  but  only  possessors  :  the 
godly  Christian  is  the  heir.  What  good  doth  all 
their  prosperity  do  them?  It  doth  but  tiasten  their 
ruin,  not  their  reward.  The  ox  that  is  the  labouring 
ox  is  the  longer  lived  than  the  ox  that  is  put  into 
the  pasture  ;  the  very  putting  of  him  there  doih  but 
hasten  his  slaughter  ;  and  when  God  puts  wicked 
men  into  fat  pastures,  into  places  of  honour  and 
power,  it  is  but  to  hasten  their  ruin.  Let  no  man, 
therefore,  fret  himself  because  of  evil-doers,  nor  be 
envious  at  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked  ;  for  the 
candle  of  the  wicked  shall  be  put  into  everlasting 
darkness  :  they  shall  soon  be  cut  off,  and  witlier  as 
a  green  herb. 

— Ludovicus  de  Carbonensis,  1579. 

(4962.)  When  a  soldier  was  to  die  for  taking  a 
bunch  of  grapes  against  the  general's  command, 
and  going  to  execution  he  went  eating  his  grapes, 
one  of  his  fellows  rebuked  him,  saying,  "  What  1 
are  you  eating  your  grapes  now  ?  "  The  poor  man 
answers,  "  1  prithee,  friend,  do  not  envy  me  these 
grapes,  for  they  do  cost  me  dear  ; "  so  they  did 
indeed,  for  they  cost  him  his  life.  Thus,  let  no 
man  envy  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  nor  fret  at 
the  men  or  this  world  who  live  in  pleasure  and 
wallow  in  the  sensual  delights  of  this  life  ;    they 


know  no  better,  they  seek  after  no  better  things. 
There  is  little  cause  why  any  man  should  grudge 
what  they  have,  lor  they  must  give  a  sad  account  of 
what  they  have  received,  and  pay  dear  at  the  last 
— even  without  God's  preventing  mercy — the  loss  of 
their  immortal  souls  to  all  eternity. 

— Burroughs,   1 599- 1 646. 

(4963.)  "  There  is  no  peace  to  the  wicked,  saith 
my  God."  There  are  snare-^  in  all  their  mercies,  and 
curses  and  crosses  attend  all  their  comforts,  both  at 
home  and  abroad.  What  is  a  fine  suit  of  clothes 
with  the  plague  in  it?  And  what  is  a  golden  cup 
when  there  is  poison  at  the  bottom  ?  The  curse  of 
God  always  attends  sinners  walking  in  a  way  of 
wickedness.  — Brooks,  1628-1680. 

(4964.)  O  sirs,  do  wicked  men  purchase  their 
present  pleasures  at  so  dear  a  rate  as  eternal 
torments  !  and  do  we  envy  their  enjoyment  of  them 
so  short  a  lime?  Would  any  envy  a  man  going 
to  execution,  because  he  saw  him  in  a  piison,  nobly 
feasted,  and  nobly  attended,  and  bravely  courted  ? 
or  because  he  saw  him  go  up  the  ladder  with  a  gold 
chain  about  his  neck,  and  a  scarlet  gown  upon  his 
back  ?  or  because  he  saw  him  walk  to  execution 
through  pleasant  fields,  or  delightsome  gardens  ? 
or  because  there  went  before  him  drums  beating, 
colours  flying,  and  trumpets  sounding  ?&c.  Surely 
no  1  Oh,  no  more  should  we  envy  the  grandeur 
of  the  men  of  the  day,  for  every  step  they  take  is 
but  a  step  to  an  eternal  execution. 

— Brooks,  1628-1680. 

(4965.)  The  world  is  a  stage ;  every  man  an  actor, 
and  plays  his  part  here,  either  m  a  comedy  or  tragedy. 
The  good  man  is  a  comedian,  when,  however  he 
begins,  ends  merrily  ;  but  the  wicked  man  acts  a 
tragedy,  and,  tlierefore,  ever  ends  in  horror.  Thou 
seest  a  wicked  man  vaunt  himself  on  his  stage,  stay 
till  the  last  act,  and  look  to  his  end,  as  David  did, 
and  see  whether  that  be  peace.  Thou  wouldst  make 
strange  tragedies  if  thou  wouldst  have  but  one  act. 
Who  sees  an  ox,  grazing  in  a  fat  and  rank  pasture, 
and  thinks  not  tliat  he  is  near  to  the  slaughter? 
whereas,  the  lean  beast,  that  toils  under  the  yoke, 
is  far  enough  from  the  shambles.  I'he  best  wicked 
man  cannot  be  so  envied  in  his  first  shows  as  he  is 
pitiable  in  the  conclusion.        — Uall,  1574-1656. 

(4966.)  Let  us  not  envy  the  prosperity  of  the 
wicked.  They  are  the  wicked  of  the  earth ;  here 
they  flourish.  As  nettles  will  more  easily  grow  than 
choicer  plants,  the  soil  brings  them  forth  of  its  own 
accord,  so  do  wicked  men  thrive  here.  But  you 
need  not  envy  them  ;  not  only  our  hopes  are  much 
better  than  their  possessions,  but  our  present  con- 
dition is  much  better.     (Ps.  xvii.  14.) 

"  Fret  not  thyself  because  of  the  evil-doers, 
neither  be  thou  envious  against  the  workers  of 
iniquity,  for  they  shall  soon  be  cut  down  like  the 
grass,  and  wither  like  the  green  herb."  Though 
they  seem  to  be  in  a  very  prosperous  condition  for 
tlie  present — as  grass,  while  it  is  standing,  is  very 
green — yet  they  are  soon  cut  down  by  the  scythe  of 
Providence,  then  presently  fade,  and  are  carried 
away  from  the  place  where  they  grew.  You  think 
Providence  does  not  deal  righteously  because  the 
unworthy  are  exalted,  and  the  worthy  depressed. 
Do  but  tarry  awhile,  and  you  will  have  no  cause  to 
complain,  or  to  grow  weary  of  godliness,  or  to  cry 
up  a  confederacy  with  evil  men  ;  they  are  never 


WORLD.     THE 


(     824 


WORLD.     THE 


nearer  their  own  ruin  than  when  they  come  to  the 
height  of  their  exaltation,  as  the  sun  declines 
presently  when  he  comes  to  the  highest  point  of  the 
zenith.  Who  would  envy  those  that  climb  up  a 
laddef  for  executiun  ;  or  are  carried  to  the  top  of  a 
rock  that  they  may  be  thrown  down  from  thence  to 
be  broken  in  pieces?  "  Surely  Thou  didst  set  them 
in  slippery  places,  Thou  didst  cast  them  down  into 
destruction."  — Manlon,  1620-1667. 


WORLD.     THE. 

1.    JTS  HONOURS  AND  PLEASURES. 

1.  We  can  call  rery  few  of  tliem  really  our  own. 

(4967.)  He  that  is  the  greatest  possessor  in  the 
world  enjoys  its  best  and  most  noble  parts,  and 
those  which  are  of  most  excellent  perfection,  but  in 
common  with  inferior  persons,  and  the  most  despic- 
able of  his  kingdom.  Can  the  greatest  prince  en- 
close the  sun,  and  set  one  little  star  in  his  cabinet 
for  his  own  use,  01  secure  to  himself  the  gentle  and 
beni;^n  influences  of  one  constellation  ?  Are  not 
his  subjects'  fields  bedewed  with  the  same  showers 
that  water  his  pleasure  garden  ? 

Nay,  those  things  wliicli  he  esteems  his  ornament, 
and  the  singularity  of  his  po.^scssions,  are  they  not 
of  more  use  to  others  than  to  himself?  For  sup- 
jiose  his  garments  splendid  and  shining,  like  the 
robe  of  a  cherub,  or  the  clothing  of  the  fields  ;  all 
that  he  that  wears  them  enjoys  is,  that  they  keep 
him  warm,  and  clean,  and  modest  ;  and  all  this  is 
done  by  clean  and  less  pompous  vestments  ;  and 
tlie  beauty  of  them,  which  distinguishes  him  from 
others,  is  made  to  please  the  eyes  of  the  beholders  ; 
a.nd  he  is  like  a  fair  bird,  or  the  meretricious  paint- 
ing of  a  wanton  woman,  made  wholly  to  be  looked 
on,  that  is,  to  be  enjoyed  by  every  one  but  himself: 
and  the  fairest  face  and  the  sparkling  eye  cannot 
perceive  or  enjoy  their  own  beauties  but  by  reflec- 
tion. It  is  1  that  am  pleased  with  beholding  his 
gaiety  ;  and  the  gay  man,  in  liis  greatest  bravery, 
is  only  pleased  because  1  am  pleased  with  the  sight; 
so  borrowing  his  little  and  imaginary  complacency 
from  the  delight  that  I  have,  not  from  any  inher- 
ency of  his  own  possession. 

Tiie  poorest  artisan  of  Rome,  walking  in  Cassar's 
gardens,  had  the  same  pleasures  which  they  minis- 
tered to  his  lord  ;  and  although  it  may  be,  he  was 
put  to  gather  fruits  to  eat  from  another  place,  yet 
his  other  senses  were  delighted  equally  with  Cffisar's  ; 
the  birds  made  him  as  sweet  music,  the  flowers 
gave  him  as  sweet  smells  ;  he  there  sucked  as 
good  air  and  delighted  in  the  beauty  and  order 
of  the  place,  for  the  same  reason  and  on  the  same 
perception  as  the  prince  himself;  save,  only,  that 
Caesar  paid  for  all  that  pleasure  vast  sums  of  money, 
the  blood  and  treasure  of  a  province,  which  the  poor 
man  had  for  nothing. 

—Jeremy  Taylor,  161 2-1667. 

(4968.)  Suppose  a  man  lord  of  all  the  world  : 
yet,  since  everything  is  received,  not  according  to 
its  own  greatness  and  worth,  but  according  to  the 
capacity  of  the  receiver,  it  signifies  very  little  as  to 
our  content  or  to  the  riches  of  our  possession.  II 
any  man  should  give  to  a  lion  a  fair  meadowful  of 
hay,  or  a  thousand  quince  trees  ;  or  should  give  to 
goodly  bull,  the  master  and  fairest  of  the  whole 
h«d,  a  thousand  fair  stags  j  if  a  man  should  pre- 


sent to  a  child  a  ship  laden  with  Persian  carpets, 
and  the  ingredients  of  the  rich  scarlet  ;  all  thaw 
being  disproponionate  either  to  the  appetite  or  the 
understanding,  could  add  nothing  to  the  content, 
and  might  declare  the  freeness  of  the  giver,  but  they 
upbraid  the  incapacity  of  the  receiver.  And  so  it 
does  if  God  should  give  the  whole  world  to  any 
man  ;  he  can  use  nothing  but  meatj  and  drink,  and 
clothes ;  and  infinite  riches,  that  can  give  him 
changes  of  raiment  every  day  and  a  full  table,  do 
but  give  him  a  clean  trencher  every  bit  he  eats  ;  it 
signities  no  more  but  wantonness  and  variety,  to 
the  same,  not  to  any  new  purposes.  lie  to  whom 
the  world  can  be  given  to  any  purpose  greater  than 
a  private  estate  can  minister,  must  have  new  capaci- 
ties created  in  him  ;  he  needs  the  understanding  of 
an  angel,  to  take  the  accounts  of  his  estate  ;  he  had 
need  have  a  stomach  like  fire  or  the  grave,  for  else 
he  can  eat  no  more  than  one  of  his  healthful  sub- 
jects ;  and  unless  he  hath  an  eye  like  the  sun,  and 
a  motion  like  that  of  a  thought,  and  a  bulk  as  big 
as  one  of  the  orbs  of  heaven,  the  pleasures  of  his 
eye  can  be  no  greater  than  to  behold  the  beauty  of 
a  little  prospect  from  a  hill,  or  to  look  on  the  heap 
of  gold  packed  up  in  a  little  room,  or  to  dote  on  a 
cabinet  of  jewels,  better  than  which  there  is  no  man 
that  sees  at  all,  but  sees  every  day.  For,  not  to 
name  the  beauties  and  sparkling  diamonds  of  hea- 
ven, a  man's,  or  a  woman's,  or  a  hawk's  eye,  is  more 
beauteous  and  excellent  than  all  the  jewels  of  hij 
crown.  —Jeremy  Taylor^  1612-1667. 

2.  They  axe  unsatisfying'. 

{4969.)  Let  us  not  foolishly  imagine  that  our 
minds  can  be  satisfied  and  filled  with  worldly 
vanities,  nor  greedily  affect  and  seek  after  a  greater 
measure,  when  we  are  not  satisfied  with  a  less, 
supposing  that  the  access  of  quantity  may  bring 
contentment  ;  seeing  the  liunger  whicli  we  feel  in 
our  hearts  proceeds  not  from  want  of  eaithly  abund- 
ance, but  because  it  is  unnatural  nourishment  for 
the  mind  of  man,  so  that  it  can  no  more  satisfy  our 
souls'  hunger,  than  it  can  satisfy  our  bodies  to  feed 
upon  the  wind.  And  therefore  as  his  folly  were 
ridiculous,  who  being  an  hungered  should  seek  to 
satisfy  his  appetite  by  gaping  after  the  wind,  and 
finding  that  a  lesser  gale  would  not  suffice,  should 
run  to  the  windmill  to  receive  a  greater  :  so  no  less 
foolish  are  those  worldly  men,  who,  finding  their 
hearts  empty  and  tormented  with  the  hunger  of 
greedy  concupiscence,  do  think  to  stay  their  appetite 
by  feeding  upon  this  wind  of  worldly  vanities  ;  and 
failing  of  their  expectation  in  a  lesser  quantity,  think 
to  attain  unto  their  hope,  when  they  have  heaped  up 
to  themselves  a  greater.  For  the  defect  is  not  in 
the  matter,  but  in  the  nature  and  quality  of  the 
nourishment,  there  being  no  similitude  or  proportion 
between  a  spiritual  soul  and  corporal  substances. 

They  do  indeed  for  the  present  seem  to  satisfy 
and  assuage  the  hunger,  but  afterwards  it  is  enraged 
with  greater  greediness  ;  even  as  cold  drink  doth 
give  some  present  cooling  and  refreshing  to  him 
who  is  in  a  fit  of  burning  fever,  but  soon  after  the 
heat  returning  with  greater  violence  brings  with  it 
more  intolerable  thirst.  And  as  the  fire,  at  the  first 
casting  on  of  wood  or  oil,  has  for  the  instant  the 
heat  thereof  somewhat  abated,  but  presently  after, 
having  caught  hold  of  the  matter,  it  waxes  much 
more  hot  than  it  was  before  :  so  worldly  men 
])ursuing  these  earthly  vanities,  after  they  have 
attained  unto  their  hopes,  have  for  the  instant  som« 


WORLD.     THE 


(    82s     ) 


WORLD      THE 


contentment ;  but  within  awhile  the  rage  of  their 
concupiscence  revives  and  increases,  tormenting 
their  souls  with  more  unquenchable  thirstiness  than 
that  which  they  felt  before  they  tasted  them. 

If,  therefore,  we  would  have  such  sufficiency  of 
these  worldly  things  as  may  bring  contentment,  we 
must  attain  unto  itbymoderating  our  affections,  rather 
than  by  multiplying  these  vanities.  If  we  would 
have  this  agui-.h  thirst  slaked  and  abated,  it  must  not 
be  by  larger  drinking  of  these  unsatisfying  drinks, 
which  will  but  increase  our  appetite,  but  by  purging 
away  the  fretting  choler  of  worldly  concupiscence, 
which  is  the  true  cause  of  our  insatiableness  ;  and 
if  we  would  have  this  devouring  lire  of  our  greedy 
desires  quenched,  let  us  not  foolishly  heap  upon  it 
more  of  that  matter  whereby  it  is  nourished,  but 
rather  cast  on  it  the  water  of  careless  contempt, 
whereby  this  flaming  heat  will  be  soon  extinguished. 
— Downatue,  1644. 

(4970.)  The  world  is  like  sharp  sauce,  which  doth 
not  fill,  but  provoke  the  stomach  to  call  for  more. 
The  voice  of  those  guests  whom  it  makes  most 
welcome  is  like  the  daughters  of  the  horseleech, 
"Give,  give;"  but  the  infinite  God,  like  solid 
food,  doth  satisfy  the  soul  fully  ("  in  my  Father's 
house  is  bread  enough  "),  and  causeth  it  to  ciy  out, 
"  I  have  enough."  — Sivinnock,  1673. 

(4971.)  The  countryman  in  the  fable  would  needs 
Btay  till  the  river  was  run  away,  and  then  go  over  dry- 
shod  ;  but  the  river  still  ran  on,  and  lie  was  de- 
ceived in  his  expectation.  Such  are  the  worldling's 
inordinate  desires.  The  deceitful  heart  promises  to 
tee  them  run  over  and  gone,  when  they  are  attained 
to  such  a  measure  ;  and  then  they  are  stronger  and 
wider,  more  potent  and  unruly  than  before.  For  a 
covetous  heart  grasps  at  no  less  than  the  whole 
woild  ;  would  fain  be  master  of  all,  and  dwell  alone, 
like  a  wen  in  the  body,  which  draws  all  to  itself; 
let  it  never  have  so  much,  it  will  reach  after  more, 
add  house  to  house,  and  field  to  field,  till  there  be 
no  more  place  to  compass  ;  like  a  bladder,  it  swells 
wider  and  wider,  the  more  of  this  empty  world  is 
put  into  it ;  so  boundless,  so  endless,  so  inordinate 
are  the  corrupt  desires  of  worldly-minded  men. 

— Spencer,  165S. 

(4972.)  Men  that  are  in  the  valley  think,  if  they 
were  at  the  top  of  such  a  hill,  they  should  touch  the 
heavens.  Men  that  are  in  the  bottom  of  poverty,  or 
disgrace,  or  pain,  think,  if  they  could  get  up  to  such 
a  mountain,  such  a  measure  of  riches,  and  honours, 
and  delights,  they  could  reach  hapj^iiiess.  Now 
Solomon  had  got  to  the  top  of  this  hill,  and  seeing 
so  many  scrambling  and  labouring  so  hard,  nay, 
riding  on  one  another's  necks,  and  pressing  one 
another  to  death  to  get  foremost,  doth  seem  thus  to 
bespeak  them  :  "  Sirs,  ye  are  all  deceived  in  your 
expectations  ;  I  see  the  pains  ye  take  to  get  up  to 
this  place,  thinking,  that  when  you  come  hither,  ye 
shall  touch  the  heavens,  and  reach  happiness  :  but 
1  am  before  you  at  the  top  of  the  hill — I  have 
treasures,  and  honours,  and  pleasures  in  variety  and 
abundance  (Eccles.  ii.  11,  12),  and  1  find  the  hill 
full  of  quagmires  instead  of  delights,  and  so  far  from 
giving  "^e  satisfaction,  that  it  causeth  much  vexa- 
tion ;  therefore  be  advised  to  spare  your  pains,  and 
spend  your  strength  for  that  winch  will  turn  to  more 
profit  ;  for,  believe  it,  you  do  but  work  at  the  labour 
in  vain."  "  Vanitj'  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity,"  saith 
tbe  Preacher.  — Szvinnock,  1673. 


(4973.)  Worldly  comforts,  though  sweet,  yei  iq 
time  gnnv  stale  :  a  down-bed  pleasetli  awhile,  but 
viitliin  awhile  we  are  weary  and  would  rise. 

—  IVaison,  1696. 

(4974.)  The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  a 
late  nobleman  of  loose  principles,  well  known  in 
the  gay  world  (Lord  Chesterfield),  and  published 
as  authentic  by  a  res]iectal)le  prelate  deceased, 
will  show  the  dreadful  vacancy  and  wretchedness  of 
a  mind  left  to  itself  in  the  decline  of  life,  and  unsup- 
ported by  Christian  principle: — "I  have  seen  the 
silly  round  of  business  and  pleasure,  and  have  done 
with  it  all.  I  have  enjoyed  all  the  pleasures  of  the 
world,  and  consequently  know  their  futility,  and  do 
not  regret  their  loss.  I  appraise  them  at  their 
real  value,  which  in  truth  is  very  low  ;  whereas 
those  who  have  not  experienced  always  overrate 
them.  They  only  see  their  gay  outside,  and  are 
dazzled  with  their  glare  ;  but  I  have  been  behind 
the  scenes.  I  have  seen  all  the  coarse  pulleys  and 
dirty  ropes  which  exhibit  and  move  the  gaudy 
machine ;  and  I  have  seen  and  smelt  the  tallow 
candles  which  illuminate  the  whole  decoration,  to 
the  astonishment  and  admiration  of  the  ignorant 
audience.  When  I  reflect  on  what  I  have  seen, 
what  I  have  heard,  and  what  I  have  done,  I  cannot 
persuade  myself  that  all  that  frivolous  hurry  of 
bustle  and  pleasure  of  the  world  had  any  reality  ; 
but  I  look  on  all  that  is  past  as  one  of  those 
romantic  dreams  which  opium  commonly  occa- 
sions, and  I  do  by  no  means  wish  to  repeat  the 
nauseous  dose  for  the  sake  of  the  fugitive  dream. 
Shall  I  tell  you  that  I  bear  this  melancholy  situa- 
tion with  th2.£  meritorious  constancy  and  resignation 
that  most  men  boast  ?  No,  sir,  I  really  cannot 
help  it.  I  bear  it  because  1  must  bear  it,  whether 
I  will  or  no.  I  think  of  nothing  but  killing  time 
the  best  way  I  can,  now  that  time  is  become  my 
enemy.  It  is  my  resolution  to  sleep  in  the  carriage 
during  the  remainder  of  the  journey." 

— Andrew  Fuller,  1754-1815. 

3.  They  are  transitory. 

(4975.)  It  was  a  custom  in  Rome,  that  when  the 
emperor  went  by  upon  some  grand  day  in  all  his 
imperial  pomp,  there  was  an  ofiicer  appointed  to 
burn  flax  before  him,  crying  out :  Sic  transit  gloria 
piimdi  I  which  was  purposely  done  to  put  him  in 
mind  that  all  his  honour  antl  grandeur  should  soon 
vanish  and  pass  away,  like  the  nimble  smoke  raised 
from  that  burning  flax.  And  it  was  a  good  medita- 
tion that  one  had,  standing  by  a  river  side,  says  he: 
The  water  which  I  see  now  runs  away,  and  1  see  it 
no  more  ;  and  the  comforts  of  this  world  are  like 
this  running  water,  still  gliding  and  running  away 
from  us.  Those  bitter  sweets  that  the  world  doth, 
or  can  present,  are  but  like  smoke,  that  soon  va- 
nisheth  away  ;  coming  to  us  with  spai rows'  wings, 
slowly  and  with  much  difficulty  ;  but  flying  away 
with  eagles'  wings,  hardly  discoverable  which  way, 
or  how  they  took  their  flight  on  such  a  sudden.  It 
must  therefore  be  our  care  so  to  use  this  world  as  if 
we  used  it  not,  for  the  fashion  of  it  passeth  away  ; 
and  seeing  we  cannot  enjoy  the  comforts  thereof 
any  long  time,  let  us  use  them  well  to  God's  glory 
that  gave  them,  and  not  abuse  them  to  our  own 
prejudice.  —  Wol/gangius  Lazius. 

(4976. )  The  great  conqueror  of  the  world  (Alex- 
ander) caused  to  be  painted  on  a  table  a  sword  in 


WORLD.     THE 


(    826    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


the  compaas  of  a  wheel,  showing  thereby  that  what 
he  had  jjotten  by  the  sword  was  subject  to  be  turned 
about  by  the  wheel  of  Fortune.  Such  is  the  con- 
dition of  all  things  here  below,  whelher  tliey  be 
riches,  honours,  or  preierments  :  there  is  no  more 
hold  to  be  had  of  them  than  Saul  had  of  Samuel's 
lap  ;  they  do  but,  like  the  rainbow,  show  themselves 
in  all  their  dainty  colours,  and  then  vanish  away  ; 
and  if  by  chance  they  stay  witii  us  as  long  as  cleatli, 
they  do  but,  like  St.  Paul's  friends,  bring  us  to  the 
grave,  as  they  brought  him  to  ilie  ship,  and  there 
leave  us.  So  uncertain,  deceitful,  unconstant,  are 
the  ihings  of  this  world  to  the  owners  thereof. 

— Shuie,  1627. 

(4977.)  The  beauty  of  all  worldly  things  is  but  as 
a  fair  picture  drawn  upon  the  ice,  that  melts  away 
with  it.     I'he  fashion  of  this  world  pas>eth  away. 
— Burroughs,  1 5 99 -1 646. 

(4978.)  Our  most  fortified  delights  are  like  the 
chilli's  castle,  done  down  with  a  lillip  ;  a  shadow, 
nay,  the  very  dream  of  a  shadow  ;  a  rotten  post, 
slightly  painted  ;  a  paper  tower,  which  the  least 
puff  overturns.  — Adams,  16^/^. 

(4979O  Wealth  is  like  a  bird;  it  hops  all  day 
from  man  to  man,  as  that  doth  from  tree  to  tree  ; 
and  none  can  say  wliere  it  will  roost  or  rest  at  nii^ht. 
It  is  like  a  vai;rant  fellow,  wiiich  because  he  is  big- 
boned,  and  able  to  work,  a  man  takes  in  a-doors, 
and  cherislieth  ;  and  perhaps  for  a  while  he  lakes 
pains  ;  but  when  he  spies  opportunity,  the  fugitive 
servant  is  gone,  and  lakes  away  more  with  him  than 
ail  his  service  came  to.  The  world  may  seem  to 
stand  thee  in  some  stead  for  a  season,  but  at  last  it 
irrevocably  runs  away,  and  carries  with  it  thy  joys  ; 
thy  goods,  as  Rachel  stole  Laban's  idols  ;  thy 
peace  and  content  of  heart  goes  with  it,  and  thou 
are  left  desperate. 

You  see  how  quickly  riches  cease  to  be  "the 
same  : "  and  can  any  other  earthly  thing  boast  more 
stability  ?  Honour  must  put  off  its  robes  when  the 
play  is  done  ;  make  it  never  so  glorious  a  show  on 
this  world's  stage,  it  hath  but  a  short  part  to  act. 
A  great  name  of  worldly  glory  is  but  like  a  peal 
rung  on  the  bells  ;  the  common  people  are  the 
clappers  ;  the  rope  that  moves  them  is  popularity  ; 
if  you  once  let  go  your  hold  and  leave  pulling,  the 
clapper  lies  still,  and  farewell  homiur.  Strength, 
though,  like  Jeroboam,  it  put  forth  the  arm  of 
oppression,  shall  soon  fall  down  withered.  Beauty 
is  like  an  almanac  :  if  it  last  a  year  it  is  well.  Plea- 
sure like  lightning  :  oritur,  moritur ;  sweet,  but 
shojt ;  a  flash  and  away.  — Adams,  1654. 

(4980.)  At  the  best,  they  are  but  glassy  stuff; 
which,  the  finer  it  is,  is  so  much  more  brittle  :  yea, 
what  Other,  than  those  gay  bubbles,  which  children 
are  wont  to  raise  from  the  mixed  soap  and  spittle  of 
their  walnut-shell  ;  which  seem  to  represent  pleasing 
colours,  but  in  their  flying  up,  instantly  vanish  ! 
There  is  no  remedy  :  either  they  must  leave  us,  or 
we  must  leave  them.  — Hall,  1574-1656. 

(4981.)  All  worldly  things  are  like  the  sea,  ebbing 
and  flowing  ;  or  like  the  moon,  always  increasing 
or  decreasing  ;  or  like  a  wheel,  always  turning  up 
and  down.  — Aiiibrose,  1664. 

\4982.)  We  do  not  hold  worldly  things  during 
our    life,    nor   as   long    ts    we   shall    behave   our- 


selves well  in  our  places  ;  but  only  as  long  as  God 
pleases.  How  often  is  the  most  shining  glory 
burnt  into  a  snufi",  turned  into  ignominy,  and 
honour  into  contempt,  and  our  fulness  into  the 
want  of  all  things  I  A  cobweb  that  has  been  long 
a  spinning  is  soon  swep'  down. 

— M anion,  1620-1667. 

(4983.)  The  visible  felicity  of  man  is  of  no  con- 
tinuance. We  may  frequently  observe  in  the 
evening  a  cloud,  by  the  reflection  of  the  sun  invested 
with  so  bright  a  lustre  and  adorned  with  such  a 
pleasant  variety  of  colours,  that,  in  the  judgment 
of  our  eyes,  it  an  angel  were  to  assume  a  body 
correspondent  to  his  glory,  it  were  a  fit  mattei 
for  it ;  but  in  walking  a  few  steps,  the  sun  is 
descended  beneath  the  horizon,  and  the  light  with- 
drawn, and  of  all  that  splendid  flaming  api)earance 
nothing  remains  but  a  dark  vapour,  that  lalls  down 
in  a  shower.  Tlius  vanishing  is  the  show  of  felicity 
here.  — Bates,  1625-1699. 

(4984.)  There  is  no  constancy  in  outward  com* 
forts.  As  biooks  in  winter  are  carried  with  vio- 
lence, and  run  with  a  mighty  stream,  flowing  over 
with  abundance  of  water  on  every  side,  when  thers 
is  no  want  or  need  of  waters  ;  but  in  the  heat  cf 
summer  is  dried  up,  when  water  is  scanty  »iid  hard 
to  be  had  ;  such  is  the  friendship  of  the  world  :  it 
will  promise  us  many  tilings,  when  we  have  need 
of  nothing  ;  but  when  the  wind  turns  and  afflic- 
tions overtake  us,  it  is  like  a  tree  withered  for  want 
of  sap,  and  as  a  ditch  without  any  water  to  refresh 
us.  When  the  sun  of  our  prosperity  is  hid  and 
covered  with  a  cloud,  these  shadows  vanish  and 
disappear.  As  leaves  fall  off"  in  autumn,  so  does 
the  friendship  of  creatures  fail  men,  when  the  sap 
of  that  maintenance  which  commanded  their  com- 
pany is  withdrawn  from  them. 

Man  in  honour  abideth  not.  As  the  rising  sun, 
coming  into  our  horizon  like  a  giant  ready  to  run 
a  race,  appearing  to  us  with  a  full  and  glorious 
countenance,  within  an  hour's  space  is  obscured 
with  mists  or  darkened  with  clouds  ;  and  however, 
if  it  meet  with  neither  of  these,  when  it  arrives  at 
its  noon-day  height,  it  declines,  descends,  sets,  and 
is  buried  under  us  :  so  the  ambitious  person  shows 
himself  to  the  world  as  chiet  favourite  at  court, 
with  much  pomp  and  pride  ;  by  and  by  his  honour 
is  eclipsed,  by  the  hate  of  the  people,  or  frowns  of 
the  prince,  or  envy  of  his  fellow  courtiers  ;  or  if  not, 
yet  he  dies,  and  "carries  nothing  away,"  and  "his 
glory  doth  not  descend  after  him." 

The  like  is  evident  of  earthly  treasures :  they  are 
soon  gone,  though  not  soon  gotten.  As  a  gallant 
ship,  well  riggeti,  trimmed,  tackled,  manned,  with 
her  top  and  top-gallant,  and  her  well-spread  sails, 
puts  out  of  harbour  to  the  admiration  of  many  spec- 
tators ;  but  within  a  few  days  is  split  upon  sume 
dangerous  rock,  or  swallowed  up  of  some  disastrous 
tempest,  or  taken  by  some  ravenous  pirate  ;  so  are 
this  world's  goods  on  a  sudden  taken  from  their 
owners,  or  their  owners  from  them. 

— Swinnoci,  1 67  3. 

(4985.)  Among  qualities  that  commend  or  vilify 
things  unto  us,  duration  and  certainty  have  a  chief 
place  ;  they  often  alone  suffice  to  render  things 
valuable  or  contemptible.  Why  is  gold  more 
precious  than  glass  or  crystal  ?  Why  prefer  we  a 
ruby  before  a  rose  or  a  gilliflowei  ?  It  is  not 
because  those  are  more  serviceable,  more  beautiful. 


WORLD.     THE 


(    827    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


more  grateful  to  our  senses  than  these  (it  is  plainly 
otherwise)  ;  but  because  these  are  brittle  and  fading, 
those  solid  and  permanent  :  these  we  cannot  hope 
to  retain  the  use  or  pleasure  of  long  ;  those  we 
may  promise  ourselves  to  enjoy  as  long  as  we 
please.  — Barrow,  1630-1677. 

(4986.)  Earthly  things,  when  we  have  them,  we 
are  not  sure  of  them  ;  like  birds,  they  hop  up  and 
down,  now  on  this  hedge,  and  anon  upon  that:  none 
can  call  them  his  own.       — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(4987.)  All  sublunary  comforts  imitate  the  change- 
ableness,  as  well  as  feel  the  influence,  of  the  planet 
they  are  under.  Time,  like  a  river,  carries  them 
all  away  with  a  rapid  course  ;  they  swim  above  the 
stream  for  a  while,  but  are  quickly  swallowed  up, 
and  seen  no  more.  The  very  monuments  men  raise 
to  perpetuate  tlieir  names  consume  and  moulder 
away  themselves,  and  proclaim  their  own  mortality, 
as  well  as  testify  that  of  others. 

— Souih,  1633-1716. 

(4988.)  I  read  when  I  was  a  boy  of  an  ice- 
palace,  built  one  winter  at  Petersburg.  The 
walls,  the  roof,  the  floors,  the  furniture,  were  all  of 
ice,  but  finished  with  taste  ;  and  everything  that 
might  be  expected  in  a  royal  palace  was  to  be 
found  there  ;  the  ice,  while  in  the  state  of  water, 
had  been  previously  coloured,  so  that  to  the  eye  all 
seemed  formed  of  proper  materials :  but  all  was 
cold,  useless,  and  transient.  Had  the  frost  con- 
tinued till  now,  the  palace  might  have  been  stand- 
ing ;  but  with  the  returning  spring,  it  melted  away, 
like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision.  Methinks  there 
should  have  been  one  stone  in  the  building,  to  have 
retained  the  inscription.  Sic  transit  gloria  mundil 
for  no  contrivance  could  exhibit  a  filter  illustration 
of  the  vanity  of  human  life.  Men  build  and  plan 
as  if  their  works  were  to  endure  for  ever ;  but  the 
wind  passes  over  them,  and  they  are  gone.  In  the 
midst  of  all  their  preparations,  or,  at  larlhest,  when 
they  think  they  have  jus.t  completed  their  designs, 
their  breath  goeth  forth,  they  return  to  their  earth  ; 
in  that  very  day  their  thoughts  perish. 

— Newton,  1725-1807. 

(4989.)  Let  their  possessors,  remember,  however, 
that  they  must  shortly  be  divested  of  the  brilliant 
appendages  and  splendid  ornaments  of  rank  and 
station,  and  enter  into  a  world  where  they  are 
unknown  ;  where  they  will  carry  nothing  imt  the 
essential  elements  of  their  being,  impressed  with 
those  indelible  characters  which  must  sustain  the 
scrutiny  of  Omniscience.  The  artificial  decorations, 
be  it  remembeied,  are  not,  properly  speaking,  their 
Qwn  ;  the  elevation  to  which  they  belong  is  mo- 
mentary ;  and  as  tlie  merit  of  an  actor  is  not  esti- 
mated by  the  part  which  he  performs,  but  solely  by 
the  truth  and  propriety  of  his  representation,  ami 
the  peasant  is  often  applauded  where  the  monarch 
is  hissed ;  so  when  the  drama  of  life  is  concluded, 
He  who  allots  its  scenes,  and  determines  its  period, 
will  take  an  account  of  Hi?  servants,  and  assign  to 
each  his  punishment  or  reward,  in  his  proper  cha- 
racter. — Robert  J/all,  i-]6^-l^ll. 

4.  How  the  Cbrlstian  estimates  them, 

(4990  )  [On  the  sight  of  boys  playing.  ]     Every  age 

hath  some  peculiar  contentment.      Thus  we  did, 

when  we  were  of  these   years.      Methinks  I  still 

renien   er  the  old  fervour  of  my  young  pastimes. 


With  what  eagerness  and  passion  do  they  pursue 
these  childish  sports  I  Mow  that  there  is  a  handful 
of  cherry  stones  at  the  stake,  how  near  is  that  boy's 
heart  to  his  mouth,  for  fear  of  his  playfellows  next 
cast ;  and  how  exalted  with  Ue^ire  and  hope  of  his 
own  speed  !  Those  great  unthriits  who  hazard 
whole  manors  upon  the  dice,  cannot  expect  their 
chance  with  more  earnestness,  or  entenain  it  with 
more  joy  or  grief. 

We  cannot  but  now  smile  to  think  of  these  poor 
and  foolish  pleasures  of  our  childhood.  There  is  no 
less  disdain,  that  the  regenerate  man  conceives  of 
the  dearest  delights  of  his  natural  condition.  He 
was  once  jolly  and  jocund,  in  the  fruition  of  the 
world.  Feasts,  and  revels,  and  games,  and  dalli- 
ance were  his  life  ;  and  no  man  could  be  happy 
without  these:  and  scarce  any  man,  but  himself: 
but  when  once  grace  hath  made  him  l>oth  good  and 
wise,  how  scornfully  doth  he  look  back  at  these 
fond  felicities  of  his  carnal  estate  !  Now  he  finds 
moi  e  manly,  more  divine  contentments,  and  wonders 
he  could  be  so  transported  with  his  former  vanity. 
Pleasures  are  much  according  as  they  are  esteen:ied  : 
one  man's  delight  is  anotlier  man's  pain.  Only 
spiritual  and  heavenly  things  can  se.tle  and  satiate 
the  heart  with  a  full  and  firm  contentation. 

O  God,  Thou  art  not  capable  either  of  bettering 
or  of  change  :  let  me  enjoy  Thee  ;  and  I  shall  pity 
the  miserable  fickleness  of  those  that  want  Thee ; 
and  shall  be  sure  to  be  constantly  happy. 

— iidll,  1574-1656. 

(4991.)  The  Christian  doth  not  value  earthly  en- 
joyments, or  himself  by  them  ;  and  if  Satan  were 
to  think  to  hurt  a  saint  by  touching  his  external 
advantages,  this  were  as  if  one  should  try  to  hurt  a 
man  by  beating  his  clothes,  when  once  he  has  put 
them  off.  — G'wAMa//,  1617-1679. 

(4992.)  The  eye  of  a  godly  man  is  not  fixed  on 
the  false  sparkling  of  the  world's  pomp,  honour, 
and  wealth.  It  is  dead  to  them,  being  quiie  dazzled 
with  a  greater  beauty.  The  grass  looks  fine  in  the 
morning,  when  it  is  set  with  those  liquid  pearls,  the 
drops  of  dew  that  shine  upon  it  ;  but  if  you  can 
look  but  a  little  while  on  the  body  of  the  sun,  and 
then  look  down  again,  the  eye  is  as  it  were  dead  ; 
it  sees  not  that  faint  shining  on  the  earth  that  it 
thought  so  gay  belore.  And  as  the  eye  is  Minded, 
and  dies  to  it,  so  within  a  few  hours  that  gaiety 
quite  vanishes  and  dies  itself. 

— Leighton,  161 1- 1 684. 

(4993.)  Not  golden  veins  in  mountains,  not  dia- 
monds in  the  sands,  nor  precious  stones,  not  treasures 
which  are  heaped  up  in  cities,  nor  the  things  which 
minister  to  the  senses  or  to  bodily  ease  or  comfort, 
are  best.  Tiiey  are  second  best.  They  are  useful 
if  they  serve  ;  they  are  evil  if  they  rule.  For  the 
world  is  God's  nursery.  Here  He  brings  up  His 
children  ;  and  as  in  our  houses  all  things  are  good 
— pictures,  books,  carpets,  furniture,  the  table  anu 
the  couch — if  they  aid  us  to  rear  well  our  childreiu 
and  are  good  but  for  that  ;  as  our  children  them- 
selves the  chief  treasures  to  us,  and  their  charave* 
the  chief  part  of  themselves,  so  it  is  in  God's  great 
household  globe  on  which  we  dwell.  We  are  to 
despise  nothing  as  if  the  being  transient  or  physical 
were  a  reason  tor  contempt.  We  are  to  treasure  all 
things — only  we  are  to  measure  their  value  by  their 
relation  to  our  higher  nature.  — Beec}ur. 


WORLD.     THE 


(  828  ; 


WORLD.     THE 


6.  Wlien  they  become  hurtful  to  us. 

(4994.)  Thorns  will  not  prick  of  themselves,  but 
when  tiiey  are  grasped  in  a  man's  hand  they  prick 
deep.  So  this  world  and  the  things  thereof  are  all 
good,  and  were  all  made  of  God  for  the  benefit  of 
Ilis  creatures,  did  not  our  immoderate  affection 
make  them  hurtful,  which,  indeed,  embitters  every 
sweet  unto  us.     This  is  the  root  of  all  evil. 

— Sibhes,  1 577-1635. 

(4995.)  All  the  danger  is  when  the  world  gets 
into  the  heart.  'Ihe  water  is  useful  for  the  sailing 
of  the  ship  ;  all  the  danger  is  when  the  water  gets 
into  the  ship  ;  so  the  fear  is  when  the  world  gets 
into  the  heart.      "Thou  shall  not  covet." 

—  Watson,  1696. 

II.    ITS  DELUSIVENESS. 

1.  It  Is  solid  and  valuable  only  In  Its  outward 
appearance. 

(4996.)  All  vanities  are  but  butterflies,  which 
wanton  children  greedily  catch  for;  and  sometimes 
they  fly  beside  them,  sometimes  before  them,  some- 
times behind  them,  sometimes  close  by  them  ;  y^a. 
through  their  fingers,  and  yet  they  miss  them  ;  and 
when  they  have  them,  they  are  but  butterflies ;  they 
have  painted  wings,  but  are  crude  and  squalid  worms. 
Such  are  the  things  of  this  world,  vanities,  butter- 
flies. The  world  itself  is  not  unlike  an  artichoke  ; 
nine  parts  of  it  are  unprofitable  leaves,  scarce  the 
tithe  is  good:  about  it  there  is  a  little  picking  meat, 
nothing  so  wholesome  as  dainty  :  in  the  midst  of  it 
there  is  a  core,  which  is  enough  to  choke  them  that 
devour  it.  — Adams,  1654. 

{4997.)  In  Chili,  where  the  ground  is  subject  to 
frequent  shocks  of  earthquake,  the  houses  are  built 
of  lowly  height  and  of  unenduring  structure  ;  it  is  of 
little  use  to  dig  deep  foundations,  and  pile  up  high 
walls  where  the  very  earth  is  unstable  ;  it  would  be 
foolish  to  build  as  for  ages  when  the  whole  edifice 
may  be  in  ruins  in  a  week.  Herein  we  read  a  lesson 
as  to  our  worldly  schemes  and  possessions  ;  this 
poor  fleeting  world  deserves  not  that  we  should 
build  our  hopes  and  joys  upon  it  as  though  they 
could  last  us  long.  We  must  treat  it  as  a  treacher- 
ous soil,  and  build  but  lightly  on  it,  and  we  shall 
be  wise.  — Spitrg:on. 

2.  It  shows  Its  best  side  to  us  at  the  beginning'. 

(4998.)  The  world,  like  a  subtle  merchant,  ofi'ers 
to  us  a  good  sample  of  bad  wares,  and  outwardly 
presents  to  our  view  the  best  end  of  the  stuff, 
whereas  the  inmost  and  middle  parts  are  coarse  and 
slight ;  and  places  the  purest  and  choicest  commodi- 
ties in  the  upper  part  of  the  vessel,  whereas  in  the 
middle  and  the  bottom  it  is  mixed,  counterfeit,  and 
purposely  falsified.  — Downaine,  1644. 

(4999.)  At  the  command  of  Jesus  the  waterpots 
were  filled  with  water,  and  the  water  was  by  His 
divine  power  turned  into  wine  (|olm  ii.),  where  the 
ditfereiit  economy  of  God  and  tiie  world  is  highly 
observable.  '*'  Every  man  sets  forth  good  wine  at 
first,  and  then  the  worse  ;"  but  God  not  only  turns 
the  water  into  wine,  but  into  such  wme  that  the  last 
draught  is  most  pleasant.  The  world  presents  us 
with  fair  language,  promising  hopes,  convenient 
fortunes,  pompous  honours,  and  these  are  the  outsides 
of  the  bowl ;  but  when  it  Is  swallowed,  these  dissolve 
in  the  instsnt,  and  there  remains  bitterness  and  the 


malignity  of  Coloquinteda.  Every  sin  smiles  in  tho 
first  address,  and  carries  light  in  the  face  and  honey 
in  the  lip,  but  "when  we  have  well  drunk,  then 
comes  that  which  is  worse  " — a  whip  with  six  strings, 
fears  and  terrors  of  conscience,  and  shame  and  dis- 
pleasure and  a  cative  disposition,  arid  diffidence  in 
the  day  of  death.  But  when,  "affer  the  manner  oi 
purifying  of  the  Christians,"  we  fill  our  waterpots 
with  water,  watering  our  couch  with  our  tears,  and 
moistening  our  cheeks  with  the  perpetual  distilla- 
tions of  repentance,  then  Christ  turns  our  water 
into  wine — first  penitents  and  then  communicants, 
first  waters  of  sorrow  and  then  the  wine  of  the  chalice, 
first  the  justifications  of  correction  and  then  the 
sanctifications  of  the  sacrament,  and  the  effects 
of  the  Divine  power,  joy  and  peace  and  serenity, 
hopes  full  of  confidence,  and  confidence  without 
shame,  and  boldness  without  presumption ;  for 
Jesus  keeps  the  "best  wine"  until  the  last,"  not 
only  because  of  the  direct  reservations  of  the  highest 
joys  till  the  nearer  approaches  of  glory,  but  also 
because  our  relishes  are  higher  after  a  long  fruition 
than  at  the  first  essays  ;  such  being  the  nature  ol 
grace,  that  it  increases  in  relish  as  it  does  in  fruition, 
every  part  of  grace  being  new  duty  and  new  reward. 
— -Jeremy  Taylor,  i6i2-l667« 

3.  It  promises  more  than  it  can  perform. 

(5000.)  The  world  promiseth  as  much,  and  per- 
formeth  as  little,  as  the  tomb  of  Semiramis.  When 
she  had  built  a  stately  tomb,  she  caused  this  inscrip- 
tion to  be  engraven  on  it  :  "  Whatsoever  king  shall 
succeed  heie,  and  want  money,  let  him  open  this 
tomb,  and  he  shall  have  enough  to  serve  his  turn  ; " 
which  Darius  afterwards,  wanting  money,  opened, 
and,  instead  of  riches,  found  this  sharp  reproof: 
"Unless  thou  hadst  been  extremely  covetous  and 
greedy  of  filthy  lucre,  thou  wouldst  not  have  opened 
the  grave  of  the  dead  to  seek  for  money."  Thus 
many  run  to  the  world  with  high  hopes,  and  return 
with  nothing  but  blanks.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

4.  It  Itirea  us  on  with  false  hopes. 

(5001.)  The  world  is  treacherous  ;  it  betrays  both 
the  hopes  and  the  souls  of  men  at  once.  How  big 
is  man  with  expectations  of  remote  distant  enjoy- 
ments !  Like  a  man  looking  at  a  picture,  or 
statue,  at  a  distance,  but  coming  near  to  it,  and 
taking  a  close  view,  he  sees  it  but  a  cheat,  a  dead, 
lifeless  thing  ;  so  wlien  a  man  comes  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  world,  he  falls  infinitely  short  of  his 
expectations.  Like  children  that  think  the  cloud  is 
just  touching  such  a  hill,  and  if  they  were  at  it  they 
would  be  just  in  the  cloud  ;  and  when  they  go  there 
they  find  the  cloud  removed  away  to  another  hill. 
— Ralph  Erskine,  1 685-1 752. 

6.  It  Win  not  bear  exposure  to  the  light. 

(5002.)  Those  who  work  in  perspective  will  so 
paint  a  room  that  the  light  entering  only  through 
some  little  hole,  you  shall  perceive  beautiful  and 
perfect  figures  and  shapes  ;  but  if  you  open  the 
windows,  and  let  in  a  full  light,  at  most  you  shall 
see  but  some  imperfect  lines  and  shadows.  So 
things  of  this  world  seem  great  and  beautiful  unto 
those  who  are  in  darkness,  and  have  but  little  light 
of  heaven  ;  but  those  who  enjoy  the  perfect  lighj 
of  truth  and  faith  find  nothing  in  them  oi  substance. 
— -Jeremy  Taylor,  1612-1667. 


WORLD.     THE 


(    829    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


«.  It  delades  that  It  may  degrade  amd  destroy, 

{5003.)  The  world  deals  with  too  many  like  a  bad 
neigh  hour,  that  makes  a  man  drunk  purposely  to 
deleat  him  of  his  purse  or  patrimony  ;  when  the 
liquor  is  evaporated  the  man  awakes  and  finds  him- 
self a  bei^'gar.  — Braniard. 

7.  How  we  are  to  treat  It. 

(5004.)  Queen  Kl  zabeth  once  said  to  a  courtier, 
"They  pass  best  over  the  world  who  trip  over  it 
quickly  ;  for  it  is  but  a  bog  :  if  we  stop,  we  sink." 

—  Sptrgeon, 

8.  Tlie  folly  of  those  who  are  ensnared  by  It. 

(5005.)  We  pity  the  folly  of  the  lark,  which, 
while  it  playeth  with  the  feather  and  stoopeth  to 
the  glass,  is  caught  in  the  fowler's  net  :  and  yet 
cannot  see  ourselves  alike  made  fools  by  Satan, 
who,  deluding  us  by  the  vain  feathers  and  glasses 
of  the  world,  suddenly  enwrappeth  us  in  his  snares. 
We  see  not  the  nets,  indeed  ;  it  is  too  much  that 
we  shall  feel  them,  and  that  they  are  not  so  easily 
escaped  after  as  before  avoided.  O  Lord,  keep 
Thou  mine  eyes  from  beholding  vanity.  And, 
(ici'iT'i  mine  eyes  see  it,  let  not  my  heart  stoop  to 
it,  but  loathe  it  afar  off.  And,  if  I  stoop  at  any 
time,  and  be  taken,  set  Thou  my  soul  at  liberty  ; 
that  1  may  say,  "  My  soul  is  escaped,  even  as  a 
bird  out  of  the  snare  of  the  fowler  :  the  snare  is 
broken,  and  I  am  delivered." 

— Hall,  1 574-1 656. 

III.    ITS  PURSUIT  BV  THE  UNGODLY, 

1.  Their  earnestness  In  its  pursuit. 

(5006.)  Tell  some  of  adding  faith  to  fnlth,  one 
degree  of  grace  to  another,  and  you  shall  find  they 
have  more  mintl  to  join  house  to  house,  and  field 
to  field.  It  is  earth,  eirtii  ;  and  they  never  think 
tl'ity  have  had  enough  of  the  soil,  till  death  comes 
and  stops  their  mouth  with  a  shovelful  digged  out 
of  their  own  grave.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(5007.)  Henry  IV.  of  France,  asking  the  Duke 
of  Alva  if  he  had  observed  the  eclipses  happening 
in  that  year,  he  answered  that  he  had  so  much 
business  on  earth  that  he  had  no  leisure  to  look  up 
to  heaven.  A  sad  thing  it  is  for  men  to  be  so  bent, 
and  tlieir  hearts  so  set  on  the  things  of  this  world, 
as  not  to  cast  up  a  look  to  the  things  that  are  in 
heaven  ;  nay,  not  to  regard,  though  God  brings 
heaven  down  to  them  in  11  is  Word  and  sacraments. 
Yet  so  it  is  ;  most  men  are  of  this  Spanish  general's 
mind — witness  the  oxen,  the  farms,  the  pleasures, 
the  profits,  and  jirelernients  that  men  are  so  fast 
glued  unto,  that  they  have  hardly  leisure  to  enler- 
laiu  a  thought  of  any  goodness. 

— Speitcer,  1658. 

3.  Their  folly  In  ILs  pursuit. 

(500S. )  It  is  a  great  deal  of  care  and  pains  that 
the  spider  takes  in  weaving  her  web  ;  she  runneth 
rr.'Jch,  and  ofien  up  and  down  ;  she  fetcheth  a  com- 
p=iss  this  way  and  that  way,  and  reiurneth  olten  to 
the  same  point ;  she  speudetii  herself  in  multitudes 
of  fine  threads,  to  make  hersell  a  round  cabinet  ; 
she  exenterateth  herself,  and  worketli  out  her  own 
bowels,  to  make  an  artificial  and  curious  piece  of 
work,  which,  when  it  is  made,  is  apt  to  be  blown 
away  \\ith  every  puff  of  wind.  She  hangeth  it  up 
aloft,  she  fasteneth  it  to  tl;e  roof  of  the  house,  she 
strengtheneth  it  with  many  a  thread,  wheeling  often 


round  about,  not  sparing  her  own  bowels,  but  spend- 
ing them  willingly  u)>on  her  work.  And  when  sh« 
hath  done  all  this,  spun  her  fine  threads,  weaved 
them  one  within  another,  wrought  herself  a  fine 
canopy,  hung  it  aloft,  and  thinks  all  is  sure, — sud- 
denly, in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  with  a  little  sweep 
of  a  broom  all  falls  to  the  ground,  and  so  her  labour 
perisheth.  But  here  is  not  all,  p.  or  spitler  !  she  is 
killed  either  in  her  own  web,  or  else  she  is  taken  in 
her  own  snare,  haled  to  death,  and  trodden  under 
foot.  Thus  the  silly  animal  may  be  truly  said  either 
to  weave  her  own  winding-sheet,  or  to  make  a  snare 
to  hang  herself.  Just  so  do  many  men  waste  and 
consume  themselves  to  get  preferment,  to  enjoy 
pleasures,  to  heap  up  riches  and  increase  them  ; 
and  to  that  end  they  spend  all  their  wit,  and  often- 
times the  health  of  their  bodies,  running  up  and 
down,  labouring  and  sweating',  carking  and  caring  ; 
and  when  they  have  done  all  this,  they  have  but 
weaved  the  spider's  web  to  catch  flies,  yea,  often- 
times are  caught  in  their  own  nets,  are  nia-ie  instru- 
ments of  their  own  destruction,  they  take  a  great 
deal  of  pains  witli  little  success,  to  no  end  or  pur- 
pose. — Drexdius,  1581 -1638. 

(5009.)  As  the  millstone  which  turns  about  all 
day,  grinding  corn  for  others  and  not  for  itself,  at 
night  stands  in  the  same  place  where  it  was  in  the 
morning,  and  after  that  great  plenty  of  grain  has 
passed  by  it  is  emptied  of  all,  having  no  good  by 
the  bargain  but  to  wear  itself  out  for  the  profit  of 
others  ;  so  worldly  men,  in  attaining  unto  earthly 
vanities,  toil  themselves  the  whole  day  of  this 
life,  and  when  the  night  of  death  approaches,  they 
are  in  the  same  case  that  they  weie  in  when  they 
began,  and  having  now  only  their  labour  for  their 
pains,  they  retain  nothing  of  all  which  has  passed 
through  their  hands,  but  are  constrained  to  leave 
them  to  the  world,  from  which  they  first  had  tiiem. 
— Downame,  1644. 

(5010.)  We  affect  the  vanities  of  the  world,  not 
for  any  good  we  see  in  them,  but  rather  in  self-love, 
pride,  envy,  and  emulation,  because  we  would  pre- 
vent otheis,  and  obtain  that  which  they  so  much 
desire.  Like  unto  boys,  who  with  all  eagerness  run 
after  a  ball,  not  for  the  love  of  itself,  but  that  they 
may  catch  it  before  another,  whereas  they  would 
scarce  look  after  it  if  they  had  no  competitor  to 
contend  with  them.  And  as  the  vulgar  people 
running  in  flocks  to  see  some  vain  sight,  do  move 
others,  who  scarcely  know  wherefore  they  make 
such  haste,  to  go  with  them  for  company,  and  even 
to  outstrip  their  fellows  with  nimble  speed  ;  so  do 
they  run  with  headlong  haste  in  the  pursuit  of  these 
worldly  vanities,  not  because  themselves  know  any 
worth  or  excellency  in  them,  but  because  they  see 
that  many  have  gone  before  them,  and  that  many 
are  still  going  speedily  in  this  course  ;  they  also  go 
for  company,  labouring  to  prevent  them  with  their 
haste,  and  to  obtain  that  first,  which  being  obtained 
they  do  not  know  as  yet  whether  it  be  worth  their 
having  and  enjoying.  — Downame,  1644. 

(501 1.)  The  rich  worldling  is  but  a  hired  porter, 
that  carries  a  great  load  of  wealth  on  iiis  weary  back 
all  day,  till  he  groan  under  it  ;  at  night,  when  the 
sun  of  his  liie  sets,  it  is  taken  from  him,  and  he  is 
turned  into  a  loul  stable,  a  squaltd  grave,  perchance 
with  a  galled  shoulder,  a  raw  and  macerated  con- 
science — Adams,  1654. 


WORLD.     THE 


(    830    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


(5012.)  They  who  dive  into  the  bottom  of  this 
sea  of  the  world  to  the  hazard  of  their  lives,  instead 
of  the  pearl  of  contentment  and  happiness  which 
tliey  take  such  pains  for,  bring  up  nothing  but  their 
hands  full  of  the  sand  and  gravel  of  vexation  and 
anguish.  All  the  ways  of  worldly  delights  are 
strewed  with  nettles  and  biiars,  so  that  its  greatest 
darlings  are  but  like  bears  robbing  a  bee  hive,  that 
with  much  labour  get  a  little  honey,  but  are  soundly 
stung  for  their  pains.  — Swinnock,  1673. 

{5013.)  What  folly  is  it  to  dandle  this  vain  world 
in  our  afiections,  whose  joy,  like  the  child's  laughter 
on  the  mother's  knee,  is  sure  to  end  in  a  cry  at  last. 
Oh,  remember  Dives,  stirring  up  his  pillow  and 
composing  himself  to  rest  ;  how  he  was  called  up 
by  the  tidings  of  death,  belore  he  was  warm  in  his 
bed  of  ease. 

Art  thou  trimming  thy  slimy  carcass,  while  thy 
soul  is  dropping  into  hell  ?  What  is  this  but  to  be 
painting  the  door  when  the  house  is  on  fire  ? 

— Gurnall,  161 7-1679. 

(5014.)  It  is  a  dreaming  and  distracted  world, 
that  spend  their  days  and  cares  for  nothing  ;  and 
are  as  serious  in  following  a  feather,  and  in  the 
pursuit  of  that  which  they  conless  is  vanity,  and 
dying  in  their  hands,  as  if,  indeed,  they  knew  it  to  be 
true  felicity.  They  are  like  children  busy  in  hunt- 
ing butterflies  ;  or  like  boys  at  football — as  eager  in 
the  pursuit,  and  in  overturning  one  another,  as  if  it 
were  for  their  lives  or  for  some  great,  desirable 
prize  ;  or  more  like  to  a  heap  of  ants  that  gad  about 
as  busily  and  make  as  much  ado  for  sticks  and 
dust  as  if  they  were  about  some  magnificent  work. 
Thus  doth  the  vain,  deceived  world  lay  out  their 
thoughts  and  time  upon  impertineiicies,  and  talk 
and  walk  like  so  many  noctatnbulos  in  their  sleep  ; 
they  siudy,  and  care,  and  weep,  and  laugh,  and 
labour  and  fight  as  men  in  a  dream,  and  will  hardly 
be  persuaded  but  it  is  reality  which  they  pursue  till 
death  come  and  awake  them.  Like  a  stage-play  or 
a  puppet-play,  where  all  things  seem  to  be  what 
they  are  not,  and  all  parlies  seem  to  do  what  they 
do  not,  and  depart,  and  are  all  disrobed  and 
unmasked  ;  such  is  tlie  life  of  the  most  of  this 
World,  who  Sjiend  their  days  in  a  serious  jesting, 
and  in  a  busy  doing  of  nothing. 

— Baxter,  1 61 5-1 691. 

(SO'SO  Gotthold  one  day  looked  on  while  a 
ganiener  watched  a  mole,  caught  it  at  its  mischiev- 
ous work,  threw  it  with  his  spade  out  of  the  earth, 
and  made  it  pay  with  its  life  for  the  damage  it  had 
done.  This  creature's  whole  employment,  thought 
he  within  himself,  is  to  plough  up  the  well-dressed 
gardens  and  fields,  to  gnaw  and  destroy  the  roots  of 
plants,  and,  by  the  many  heaps  it  forms,  to  disfigure 
and  sjioil  the  parterres  and  meadows  ;  all  which  it 
does  lor  the  sake  of  its  food.  Able  to  see  and  cater 
for  itself  in  the  dark,  and  even  beneath  the  earth, 
it  is  bhnd  when  unexpectedly  brought  into  light. 
And  so  it  is  with  the  man  of  the  world.  He  bur- 
rows and  filches  in  secret,  seeks  his  own  advantage 
jat  the  expense  of  others,  who  wither  and  perish 
through  his  devices,  and  raises  on  every  hand  the 
monuments  of  his  envy  and  selfishness.  Besides, 
wise  and  crafty  though  he  be  in  tempoial  things,  he 
knows  absolutely  nothing  of  those  tliat  are  spiritual 
and  divine.  But  death  stands  by,  and  only  waits 
tlie  nod  of  the  Most  High  to  terminate  in  a  moment 
bis  projects  and  intrigues,  and  cast  the  miserable 


man  out  of  the  earth,  into  the  earth  again  ;  I  mean, 
from  all  his  temporal  possessions  into  the  grave. 
— Scriver,  1629-1693. 

(5016.)  You  may  see  a  field  of  corn,  yet  full  of 
fine  showy  poppies  ;  if  you  turn  some  children  into 
it,  you  will  see  them  rush  to  the  poppies,  and  alto- 
gether overlook  the  corn,  and  take  no  notice  of  it. 
Now  this  is  the  conduct  of  the  men  of  the  world  — 
like  the  children,  they  are  all  eagerly  in  quest  of 
the  poppies,  the  gliitering  baubles  and  trifles  of 
this  life,  while  they  are  overlooking  the  wheat,  the 
solid  grains  of  eternity  ; — the  fruit,  which,  if  gathered 
into  the  garner,  would  endure  unto  eternal  life. 

— Salter. 

(5017.)  The  men  of  this  world  are  children. 
Offer  a  child  an  apple  and  a  bank-note,  he  will 
doubtless  choose  the  apple, 

— Nrwton,  1725-1807. 

(5018.)  How  infatuated  and  criminal  is  the  world- 
ling !  How  beguiled  his  mind,  and  how  criminal 
his  heart,  if  he  will  still  act  against  all  experience, 
and  all  the  declarations  which  God  hath  made  1 
When  a  ship  has  been  wrecked,  and  no  hope  of 
escape  remained,  the  sailors  have  sometiines  been 
so  infatuated  that,  despising  every  consideration 
most  suited  to  their  danger,  they  have  staved  the 
liquor  casks ;  determining  that  when  there  was  no 
hope  on  earth,  they  would  at  least  die  in  the  midst 
of  sensual  gratification  I  You  are  ready  to  exclaim 
— "Surely  these  are  not  rational  creatures!"  But 
I  scruple  not  to  say  that,  if  you  continue  to  live  a 
careless  and  ungodly  life,  while  the  pageant  of  this 
world  is  passing,  and  die  in  that  state,  such  a 
wretched  sailor  is,  in  comparison,  more  rational 
than  you  are.  If  one  were  to  remonstrate  with 
such  a  stupid  cieature,  it  is  prob.tble  he  would  say 
—  "There  is  no  help.  1  may  live  half-an-hour  ; 
and  I  am  determined  to  get  rid  of  what  sensibility 
I  have  in  order  not  to  perceive  my  death,  and 
enjoy  a  present  gratification.  1  have  no  hope — no 
prospect ;  1  can  do  nothing  I  "  But  no  man,  who 
has  the  Gospel  preached  in  his  ears,  can  say,  how- 
ever the  world  passeth  away,  and  the  procession  is 
advancing,  and  with  many  of  us  almost  gone,  yet, 
no  man  can  say — "There  is  no  help  ;  "  for  he  may 
yet  "flee  for  refuge  to  the  hope  set  before  him;" 
he  may  yet  place  his  foot  on  the  rock  ;  he  may  yet 
escape  the  shipwreck  :  deliverance  is  proclaimed 
whenever  the  Gospel  is  preached,  and  whenever  the 
Holy  Spirit  brings  any  light  to  the  heart  of  man. 
— Cecil,  1 748-1810. 

8.  Their  sinfulness  In  its  pursuit. 

(5019.)  All  sin  is  hateful  to  God,  and  none  but 
the  cleansed  perfect  soul  shall  stand  before  Him  in 
the  presence  of  His  glory  ;  nor  any  in  whom 
iniquity  hath  dominion  shall  stand  accepted  in  the 
presence  of  His  grace  ;  but  yet  no  particular  sin  is 
so  hateful  to  Him  as  idolatry  is.  For  this  is  not 
only  a  trespassing  against  His  laws,  but  a  disclaim- 
ing or  rejecting  His  very  Sovereignty  itself.  To 
give  a  prince  irreverent  language,  and  to  break  his 
laws,  is  punishable  ;  but  to  pull  him  out  of  his 
throne,  and  set  up  a  scullion  in  it,  and  give  him 
the  honour  and  obedience  of  a  king,  this  is  another 
kind  of  matter,  and  much  more  intolerable.  The 
first  commandment  is  not  like  the  rest,  which 
require  only  obedience  to  particular  laws  in  a 
particular  action  ;  but  it  establishelh  the  very  rela- 


WORLD.     THE 


(    831     ) 


WORLDs     THE 


tirms  of  sovereign  and  subject,  and  requires  a 
constant  acknowledgment  of  these  relations,  and 
makes  it  liigh  treason  against  the  God  of  lieaven 
in  any  that  shall  violate  that  command.  Every 
crime  is  not  treason  :  it  is  one  thing  to  miscarry  in 
a  particular  case,  and  another  thing  to  have  other 
gods  before  and  besides  the  Lord,  the  only  God. 
Now  this  is  the  sin  of  every  worldling  :  he  hath 
taken  down  God  from  the  throne  in  his  soul,  and 
set  up  the  flesh  and  the  world  in  His  stead  ;  these 
he  valueth,  and  magniheth,  and  delighteth  in; 
these  have  his  very  heart,  while  God  that  made  it 
and  redeemed  him  is  set  light  by. 

— Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(5020.)  Sirs,  the  thing  that  we  are  reproving  is, 
thai  the  world  gels  so  much  of  your  heart,  and  God 
so  little.  The  creaUue  sliould  but  have  a  small 
portion  of  your  affections,  il  it  be  not  tlie  creature, 
but  God  that  is  your  portion.  But,  alas  !  many 
are  like  the  great  man,  that,  being  asked  if  he  ever 
saw  an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  said,  "  He  had  so  much 
ado  upon  earth,  he  never  had  time  to  look  up  to 
heaven."  Just  so  may  it  be  said  of  multitudes  in 
the  world,  they  are  so  much  taken  up  with  the 
things  of  time,  the  vain  and  perishing  things  of  the 
world,  they  never  get  time  to  look  up  into,  and 
call  upon  God.         — Ralph  Erskine,  10S5-1752. 

4.  In  the  end  it  will  profit  them  nothing. 

{5021.)  The  world  is  not  unfitly  compared  to  a 
fishing-net,  and  the  end  of  the  world  to  the  drawing 
U])  of  the  nets.  While  the  nets  are  down  there  is 
nothing  said  to  be  caught,  for  the  nets  may  break 
and  the  fish  escape.  But  at  the  end  of  the  workl, 
when  the  nets  are  drawn  up,  it  will  then  evitlently 
appear  what  every  man  hath  caught  ;  and  then 
those  that  have  fished  for  riches,  or  gain,  sove- 
reignty, and  power  over  their  brethren,  for  the 
honours  and  preferments  of  this  world,  may  say, 
with  Peter,  "  Master,  we  have  toiled  all  the  night, 
and  have  taken  nothing."  They  dreamt  of  riches, 
and  honours,  and  powers  ;  but,  being  now  awake, 
they  find  nothing  in  their  hands  at  all.  But  those 
that  have  here  fished  for  gi)dlniess,  for  peace,  and 
for  the  honour  of  God,  may  say,  "Lord,  at  Thy 
word  we  have  let  down  our  net  ■  and  have  caught, 
yea,  we  have  caught  abundantly  ;  we  have  fished 
for  godliness,  and  have  gotten  life  eternal  ;  lor  grace, 
and  we  have  gotten  glory  ;  for  goodness,  and  we 
have  gotten  God  Himself,  who  is  the  fountain  of  all 
goodness  and  glory.  — (Jaiaker,  1574-1654. 

(5022.)  Ah  vain  world  !  thou  art  a  poor  reward 
for  the  loss  of  Christ  and  heaven.  While  Satan  is 
pleasing  thy  fancy,  sinner,  with  the  rattles  and 
baubles  of  the  earth,  his  hand  is  in  tliy  treasure, 
robbing  thee  of  that  which  alone  is  necessary.  It 
is  more  necessary  to  be  i-aved  than  to  be  ;  better 
not  to  be,  than  to  be  in  hell. 

— Curnall,  1617-1679. 

6.  How  It  will  seem  to  them  in  the  hour  of  death. 

(5023.)  When  the  race  is  ended,  and  the  play 
either  won  or  lost,  and  ye  are  in  the  utmost  circle 
and  border  of  time,  and  shall  put  your  foot  within 
the  march  of  eternity,  all  the  good  things  of  your 
short  night-dream  shall  seem  to  you  like  allies  of  a 
blaze  of  thorns  or  straw.  —Rutherford,  1661. 

(5024.)  What  occasions  the  surprise  and  the 
despair  of  the  sinner  on  the  bed  of  death,  is  to  see 


that  the  world  in  which  he  had  ever  placed  all  his 
confidence  is  nothing,  is  but  a  dream,  which  vanishes 
and  is  annihilated.  But  the  faithful  soul,  in  this 
last  moment,  ah  !  he  sees  the  world  in  tlie  same 
light  he  had  always  viewed  it  ;  as  a  shadow  which 
flitteth  away;  as  a  vapour  which  deceives  at  a  dis* 
lance,  but,  when  approached,  has  neitlier  reality 
nor  substance.  — Alassillon. 

(5025.)  I  have  seen  death  in  a  variety  of  forms, 
and  have  had  frequent  occasion  of  observing  how 
insignificant  many  things,  which  are  now  capable  of 
giving  us  pain  or  [pleasure,  will  appear  when  the 
soul  is  brought  near  to  the  b(irclers  ot  eternity.  All 
the  concerns  which  relate  solely  to  this  life,  will 
then  be  found  as  trivial  as  the  traces  of  a  dream 
from  which  we  are  awakened. 

—Newton,  1 725-1807. 

IV.    THE  CHRISTIAN  AND  THE  WORLD. 
1.  While  in  the  world,  he  is  not  to  be  of  it. 

(5026.)  A  servant,  whilst  a  stranger  walks  with 
his  master,  follows  them  both  ;  but  when  the 
stranger  takes  his  leave  and  departs  from  his  master, 
he  leaves  the  stranger  and  follows  his  master.  Thus 
whilst  the  world  does  any  way  concur  with  the  Lord, 
and  conduces  to  the  salvation  of  the  precious  soul, 
so  far  we  may  accompany  it  ;  but  if  it  once  depart 
from  that,  then  let  us  give  the  world  a  farewell, 
follow  God,  and  have  a  care  of  our  souls. 

— -John  Denison,  1621. 

(5027.)  Let  us  use  worldly  things  as  wise  pilgrims 
do  their  staves  ami  other  necessaries  convenient  for 
their  journey.  So  long  as  they  help  us  forward  in 
our  way,  let  us  make  use  of  them,  and  accordingly 
esteem  them.  But  if  they  become  troublesome 
hindrances  and  cumbersome  burdens,  let  us  leave 
them  behind  us,  or  cast  them  away. 

— Lowname,  1644. 

(5028.)  The  cream  of  the  creature  floats  at^p  ; 
and  he  that  is  not  content  to  fleet  it,  but  thinks  by 
drinking  a  deeper  draught  to  find  yet  more,  goes 
further  to  speed  worse.       — Giimall,  1617-1679. 

{5029.)  Lnitate  little  children,  who,  as  they  with 
one  hand  hold  fast  by  their  father,  and  with  the 
other  gather  strawberries  or  blackberries  along  the 
hedges,  so  you  gathering  and  handling  the  goods 
of  this  world  with  one  hand,  must  with  the  other 
always  hold  fast  the  hand  of  your  Heavenly  Father, 
turning  yourself  towards  Him  from  time  to  lime, 
to  see  if  your  actions  or  occupations  be  pleasing  to 
Him  ;  1ml  al)Ove  all  things,  lake  heed  that  you  nevei 
let  go  His  protecting  hand.  — Sales. 

(5030.)  All  the  water  is  wpste  that  runs  beside 
the  mill  ;  so  all  thy  thoughts  and  words  are  waste 
which  are  not  to  the  glory  of  God.  A  bee  will  not 
sit  on  a  flower  where  no  honey  can  be  sucked  ; 
neither  should  the  Christian  engage  in  anything  but 
for  his  soul's  good  and  God's  honour. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(5031.)  A  man  and  a  beast  may  siand  upon  the 
same  mountain,  and  even  toucli  one  another,  yet 
they  are  in  two  difierenl  worlds  :  the  beast  peiceives 
nothing  but  the  grass  ;  but  the  man  contemplates 
the  prospect,  and  thinks  of  a  thousand  remote 
thmgs.      Ihus  a  Christian  may  be  solitary  at  a  lull 


IVORID.     THE 


(    832    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


Exchange  ;  he  can  converse  with  the  people  there 
upon  trade,  politics,  and  the  stocks  ;  but  they  can- 
not talk  with  him  upon  the  peace  of  God,  which 
passeth  all  understanding. 

— Newton,  1725-1807. 

(5032.)  Christianity  allows  us  to  use  the  world, 
provided  we  do  not  abuse  it.  It  does  not  spread 
before  us  a  delicious  banquet,  and  then  come  witii 
a  "Touch  not,  taste  not,  haiulle  not." 

—J'orteous,  1 73 1 -1 808. 

2.  In  what  Christian  nonconformity  to  tlie 
worll  consists. 

( I . )  A'ot  in  gving  out  of  the  tvorld. 

(5033.)  To  forsake  the  world,  is  not  to  go  out  of 
the  world.  It  is  not  to  forsake  personal  society, 
though  all  vicious  society  must  be  foisaken.  It  is 
not  to  vow  a  voluntary  poverty,  with  the  Papists. 
It  is  not  to  be  idle  and  improvident  ;  but,  po>i- 
tively,  never  to  forsake  it  in  the  four  following 
respects  : — I.  In  respect  of  the  immoderate  use  ot 
the  enjoyment  of  the  world  (i  Cor.  vii.  29-31). 
We  are  to  use  it  as  stewards,  that  are  to  give  an 
account.  2.  In  respect  of  service.  Be  not  ser- 
vants or  slaves  to  it,  for  you  cannot  both  serve  God 
and  mammon.  3.  In  respect  of  confidence.  Trust 
not  to  it.  Although  you  have  worldly  advantages, 
make  them  not  your  staff,  your  stay,  your  choice 
jewels.  4.  In  respect  of  adherence.  Be  not  glued 
to  the  world.  Let  not  the  world  be  like  the  skin 
on  the  hand,  that  will  not  easily  come  off;  but  like 
tliic  glove  on  your  hand,  or  the  hat  on  your  head, 
that  you  can  easily  part  with. 

— Ralph  Erskine,  1685-1752. 

(2.)  Not  in  cultivating  singtilarities  of  dress  or 
manners,  but  in  making  the  will  oj  Christ  the  rule 
of  our  life. 

(5034.)  While,  as  men,  we  have  many  things  in 
common  with  other  men,  yet,  as  Christians,  we  are 
expected  to  possess  something  original  and  peculiar. 
Our  opinions,  practice,  and  conduct  are  to  be  deter- 
mined by  the  will  of  Christ  (i  John  ii.  3,6).  The 
world  may  be  governed  by  its  own  laws.  If  they 
coincide  with  Christ's  in  anything,  or  in  everything, 
it  is  well,  and  Christians  are  not  to  RiTi^ct  singularity. 
If  they  difler,  the  Christian  community  has  another 
rule  by  which  it  is  governed.  1  have  a  family  in 
a  gay,  wicked,  thoughtless  city.  As  the  head  of 
thi.  family  1  give  laws  by  which  I  expect  it  will 
be  influenced.  Around  me  may  be  one  family 
governed  by  the  laws  of  fashion  ;  another  by  the 
laws  of  honour  ;  a  third,  perhaps,  by  certain  arbi- 
trary rules  which  pickpockets  and  highwaymen 
have  set  up.  I  do  not  interfere  with  them  ;  nor  do 
I  say  that  in  no  respects  shall  my  family  coincide 
with  them.  If  they  have  anything  commendable  I 
shall  not  denounce  it,  nor  demand  that  my  children 
shall  affect  sinijularity.  What  1  e.xpect  is,  that  my 
children  will  obey  my  laws.  If  my  neiL;hl)our  pre- 
sumes to  legislate  in  the  case,  and  demands  that  my 
family  shall  forsake  my  laws  ;  if  he  affirms  that  my 
Statutes  are  siern  and  harsh,  and  should  be  modified 
— that  is  a  question  for  me  to  consider,  not  for  him 
to  legislate  on. 

Just  so  it  is  with  Christianity.  Christ  has  esta- 
blished a  set  of  laws,  and  demanded  a  certain  course 
of  life.  If  the  membeis  of  any  other  community,  or 
of  fifty  others,  should  in  many  things,  or  in  all  things, 
coincide   with   what   religion   would  produce,   the 


Christian  is  not  to  aflect  singularity  in  the  case. 
The  question  is  whether  I  am  adhering  to  the  laws 
of  the  peculiar  kingdom  by  which  I  am  govern.^d, 
and  not  whether  others  are  falling  in  with  these 
laws  also.  — Barnes,  179S-1870. 

(3.)  In  abstaining  from  unnecessary  intercourse 
with  the  t?ie}i  of  the  world, 

(5035.)  A  saint  must  be  separated, — not  locally, 
but  in  regard  of  amity,  in  regard  of  intimate  friend- 
ship ;  as  we  see  it  is  in  outward  things  in  some  of 
our  houses.  There  is  a  court  wheie  all  come,  poor 
and  rich  ;  and  there  is  in  the  house  where  those  of 
nearer  acquaintance  come  ;  and  then  tliere  is  the 
innermost  room,  the  closet,  where  only  ourselves 
anil  those  which  are  nearest  to  us  come.  So  it  is 
in  the  passages  of  the  soul.  There  are  some  remote 
courtesies  that  come  from  us,  as  men,  to  all,  be 
they  what  they  will ;  there  are  other  respects  to 
those  that  are  nearer,  that  we  admit  nearer,  that 
are  of  better  quality  ;  and  there  are  other  that  are 
nearest  of  all,  that  we  admit  even  into  the  closet  of 
our  hearts  ;  and  those  are  they  with  whom  we  hope 
to  have  communion  for  ever  in  heaven,  the  blessed 
people  of  God.  — Sibbes,  1577-1635. 

(5036.)  A  Christian  in  the  world  is  like  a  man 
transacting  his  affairs  in  the  rain.  He  will  not 
sudtlenly  leave  his  client  because  it  rains  ;  but  the 
moment  the  business  is  ilone  he  is  off :  as  it  is  said 
in  the  Acts,  "Being  let  go,  they  went  to  their  own 
company."  — Aewion,  1725-1807. 

(5037.)  There  is  a  certain  degree  of  intercourse 
which  must  subsist  between  rs  and  the  world.  But 
it  is  by  no  means  desirable  to  extend  it  beyond  that 
which  the  duties  of  our  calling  absolutely  require. 
Our  Lord  declares  that  His  faithful  followers  "are 
not  of  the  world."  The  apostles  also  with  one 
voice  guard  us  against  cultivating  the  friendship  of 
the  world  ;  and  teach  us  to  come  out  from  among 
them,  and  to  live  ,as  a  distinct  "  peculiar  people," 
"shining  among  them  as  lights  in  the  dark  place." 
We  should  go  to  them  indeed  when  duty  calls,  as 
the  physician  enters  the  infected  chambers  of  the 
sick  :  but  we  should  never  forget  that  "  evil  com- 
munications corrupt  good  manners;"  and  that  an 
undue  familiarity  with  them  is  far  more  likely  to 
weaken  the  spirituality  of  our  own  minds  than  to 
generate  a  holy  tlisposiiiun  in  theirs.  In  us  should 
be  verifietl  the  prophecy  of  Balaam,  "Israel  shall 
dwell  alone,  and  shall  not  be  reckoned  among  the 
nations."  — Simeon,  1755-1836. 

(4. )  In  setting  before  us  as  the  ends  of  life  the 
attainmettt  of  eternal  blessedness,  the  pro/notion  of 
the  Divine  glo7y,  and  the  adva)i€einent  of  the  welfare 
of  our  fellow- men  :  and  in  abstaining  from  those 
pursuits  and  pleasures  that  are  inconsistent  there- 
with. 

(5038.)  The  Christian  and  the  carnal  man  are 
must  wonderful  to  each  otlier.  The  one  wonders 
to  see  the  other  walk  so  strictly,  and  deny  himself 
to  those  carnal  liberties  that  the  most  take,  and  take 
for  so  necessary,  that  they  think  they  could  not  live 
without  them.  And  the  Christian  thinks  it  strange 
that  men  should  be  so  bewi;clied,  and  stdl  remain 
children  in  the  vanity  of  their  turmoil,  wearying 
and  humouring  themseive?  from  morning  to  night, 
running  alter  stories  and  fancies,  ever  busy  doing 
nothing  ;  wonders  that  the  delights  of  earth  and  sin 
can  so  long  entertain  and  please  men,  and  persuade 


WORLD.     THE' 


(    833    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


them  to  give  Jesus  Christ  so  many  refusals — to  turn 
from  I  heir  life  and  happiness,  and  chouse  to  be 
miserable,  yea,  and  take  much  pains  to  make  them- 
selves miserable.  He  knows  the  depravedncss  and 
blindness  of  nature  in  this — knows  it  by  himself, 
that  once  he  was  so,  and  therefore  wonders  not  so 
much  at  them  as  they  do  at  him  ;  yet  tlie  unreason- 
ableness and  frenzy  of  that  course  now  ajipcars  to 
him  in  so  strong  a  light  that  he  cannot  but  womler 
at  those  wolul  mistakes.  But  the  ungodly  wonder 
far  more  at  him,  not  knowing  th.e  inward  cause  of 
his  different  choice  and  way.  The  believer,  as  we 
said,  is  upon  the  hill  ;  he  is  going  up,  looks  back 
on  them  in  the  valley,  and  sees  their  way  tending 
to  and  in  deatli,  and  calls  them  to  retire  from  it  as 
loud  as  he  can  ;  tells  them  the  danger  ;  but  either 
they  will  not  hear  or  understand  this  language, 
or  will  not  believe  him.  Finding  present  ease 
and  delight  in  their  way,  they  will  not  consider  and 
suspect  the  end  of  it  ;  but  they  judge  hiai  the  fool 
that  will  not  share  with  them  and  take  that  way 
where  such  multitudes  go  and  with  such  ease,  and 
scnie  of  them  with  their  train  and  horses  and 
coaches  and  all  their  pomp  ;  and  he  and  a  few 
straggling  poor  creatures  like  him  climbing  up  a 
craggy,  steep  hill,  and  will  by  no  means  come  off 
from  that  way  and  partake  of  theirs,  not  knowing 
or  not  believing  tliat  at  the  top  of  that  hill  he  climbs 
is  tliat  iinppy,  glorious  city,  ihe  New  Jerusalem, 
whereof  he  is  a  citizen,  and  whither  he  is  tending  ; 
not  believing  that  he  knows  the  end  both  of  their 
way  and  his  own,  and  therefore  would  reclaim  them 
if  he  Could  ;  but  will  by  no  means  return  to  them, 
as  the  Lord  commanded  the  pro])het  (Jer.  xv.  19). 
— Leigliton ,  1 6 1 1  - 1 684. 

(5039.)  Lycurgus  framed  a  code  of  laws  for  Sparta. 
He  had  an  object  in  each  of  his  statutes,  and  he 
designed  to  rear  a  peculiar  community.  It  was  not 
the  love  of  singularity,  it  was  not  a  wish  to  differ 
from  others  tor  the  mere  sake  of  being  different. 
It  was  with  reference  10  his  great  object — to  make 
the  Spartans  valiant,  hardy,  laborious,  daring  free- 
men. With  this  object  he  frametl  his  laws  ;  and 
this  design  vi'as  understood  by  every  Lacedemonian. 
Suppose,  now,  he  had  left  some  such  direction  as 
the  text,  "  Be  not  conformed  to  surrounding  nations, 
or  even  to  the  otiier  republics  of  Greece."  The 
command  would  have  been  intelligible.  It  would 
not  mean,  "  Do  not  in  anything  coincide  with  others, 
for  they  may  be  temperate,  and  laborious,  and 
valiant,  as  well  as  you,  and  in  this  do  not  afiect 
singularity.  Their  conduct  in  this  respect  is  just 
what  is  required  of  you.  Do  not  pursue  it  because 
mey  do,  but  because  it  will  contribute  to  the  great 
designs  of  the  republic."  The  command  woukl 
forbid  conformity  to  other  people,  if  that  confor- 
mity should  interfere  with  the  purpose  of  the  Spar- 
tan lawgiver.  It  might  easily  be  seen  that  even 
the  arts  of  Athens,  the  extensive  attention  to 
statuary  and  ornamental  architecture,  might  not 
consist  with  the  main  design  of  the  Lacedemonian. 
Innocent  as  they  might  be  in  themselves,  or  con- 
sistent as  they  might  be  in  the  members  of  the 
republic  of  Athens,  yet  should  the  LaceiJemonians 
turn  their  attention  to  statuary  or  to  the  fine  arts, 
as  a  people,  they  would  abandon  the  peculiar  design 
of  the  lawgiver  in  making  them  a  hardy  and  valor- 
ous race  of  freemen.  It  would  easily  be  seen  that 
the  delicacies  and  refinements  of  Corinth,  its  fashion 
»nrl  splendour,  its  l"ixuries  and  amusements,  as  well 


as  its  licentious  habits,  would  be  inconsistent  with 
the  design  of  the  -Spartan.  Whether  tliey  were 
well  for  the  Corinthian  was  another  question  ;  and 
a  question  w  hich  it  did  not  pertain  to  the  Spartan 
to  settle.  His  inquiry  was  of  a  different  kind. 
What  was  the  will  of  the  lawgiver  ?  And  are 
these  things  consistent  with  his  plain  and  obvious 
directions?  His  design  was  to  train  up  a  peculiar 
coinmunity  ;  was  qualified  to  judge  of  that  design. 
■He  contemplated  that  no  other  one — not  even  one 
of  the  confederated  republics  of  Greece — shoula 
presume  to  come  in  and  legislate  for  his  people.  If 
this  peculiar  design  was  consistent  with  their  views 
and  conduct,  it  was  well.  They  would  be  con- 
formeil  to,  not  because  they  were  the  views  of 
Athens  or  Corinth,  but  because  they  contributed  to 
the  great  purpose  of  the  Lacedemonian  lawgiver. 
In  no  case  had  they  a  right  to  originate  laws  for  his 
people,  or  to  demand  that  his  laws  should  be  con- 
formed to  their  views. 

Thus  with  the  Christian.  If  the  views  and  con- 
duct of  others  coincide  with  his,  it  is  well.  If  they 
do  not,  they  are  not  at  liberty  to  come  in  and 
demand  that  he  shall  be  conformed  to  them.  He 
has  higher  laws,  and  a  higher  object.  He  has  a 
purpose  which  strikes  on  to  eternity.  His  aim  is 
to  prepare  for  heaven.  Theirs,  to  live  for  time. 
Nor  can  they  claim  jurisdiction  over  conduct  that 
has  been  directed  by  the  Son  of  God,  and  that  He 
has  judged  best  in  ordering  His  peculiar  community. 
The  simple  questiim  is,  whether  a  proposed  course 
of  conduct  or  opinion  is  consistent  with  the  spirit 
and  life  demanded  by  the  King  of  Zion. 

— Barnes,  1798-1870. 

(5040.)  This  rule:  "Be  ye  not  conformed  to 
this  world,"  forbids  all  mingling  with  the  world 
which  is  inconsistent  with  the  great  objects  of  the 
kingdom  of  Christ,  or  which  will  not  on  the  whole 
tend  to  promote  it.  It  is  not  needful  to  stale  what 
those  objects 'are.  They  may  be  summed  up  in  a 
desire  to  become  personally  assimilated  to  Jesus 
Christ,  and  to  bring  our  fellow-men  to  the  hope  of 
the  same  heaven.  Now  with  this  desjre  to  be  pre- 
cisely what  will  be  approved  by  the  mind  of  Christ, 
we  may  apply  the  rule  before  us.  It  will  be  a  test 
of  the  propriety  of  a  thousand  things  which  might 
otherwise  be  the  subject  of  much  debate.  It  will 
constitute  a  nice  tact  by  which  we  may  approach  a 
great  variety  of  objects  without  danger  of  error.  A 
child  can  much  more  easily  decide  whether  a  thing 
will  be  acceptable  to  the  mind  of  his  father,  than 
he  could  settle  its  propriety  by  argument.  The 
inhabitant  of  Sparta  could  see  at  once  that  many 
things  were  inconsistent  with  the  design  of  his 
republic,  which  he  could  by  no  means  settle  in 
an  abstract  manner.  Whether  the  aim  of  the 
Athenian  was  proper,  or  the  mild  and  soft  plea- 
sures of  the  Corinthian,  he  might  not  be  able  to 
settle  by  argument,  but  this  would  not  be  the  way 
in  which  to  train  up  the  Lacedemonian.  So  it 
might  become  a  question  of  abstract  casuistry  about 
a  thousand  scenes  of  amusement.  It  would  be 
easy  to  argue  by  the  hour  in  favour  of  parties  of 
pleasure,  and  theatres,  and  ball-rooms,  and  all  the 
vanity  of  fashionable  lile,  and  the  mind  might 
"find  no  end  of  wandering  mazes  lost."  But  apply 
the  rule  before  us,  and  all  mist  vanishes.  Since  the 
beginning  of  the  world,  no  professing  Christian  ever 
dreamed  that  he  was  imitating  the  exani|->le  of  Jesus 
Christ,   or  honouring   the   Christian   reli'^don,   in   a 

3  ^ 


WORLD.     THE 


(    834    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


theatre,  a  ball-room,  or  a  splendid  party  of  plea- 
suie.  And  equally  clear  would  be  the  decision  in 
reference  to  luukiiudes  of  pleasures  which  it  is 
needless  to  specify.  — Barnes,  179S-1870. 

(5.)  /«  keeping  the  affections  diseti^aged  from  the 

world. 

(5041.)  A  ri,<,'ht  believer  goes  tliroug.h  the  world 
as  a  man  whose  mind  is  in  a  deep  study,  or  as  one 
that  has  special  haste  of  some  weitjlity  business  goes 
through  a  street,  that  gazes  on  nothmg,  hears  no- 
thing, minds  nothing  that  is  in  the  way,  but  only  that 
with  which  his  mind  is  taken  up  withal.  Our  con- 
versation is  in  heaven,  our  treasure  is  in  heaven. 
—  Ward,  1577-1639. 

(5042.)  A  Christian  is  like  Jacob's  ladder  ;  while 
his  body,  that  lower  part,  stands  on  the  ground,  the 
top,  his  higher  and  better  part,  is  in  heaven. 

He  that  hath  the  living  waters  of  Jesus  flowing 
in  his  heart,  is  mad  if  lie  stoop  to  tlie  puddles  of 
vanity,  or  seek  content  in  the  world.  Yea,  such  a 
one  will  scarce  descend  to  lawful  pleasures,  but 
for  God's  allowance,  and  nature's  necessity  ;  and 
then  but  as  the  eagle,  who  lives  aloft,  and  stoops 
not  but  for  her  prey.  — Adams,  1653. 

(5043-)  The  flower  called  heliotropium  turns  its 
face  towards  the  sun  from  morning  to  nigjit,  so  does 
the  true  Christian  towards  the  Sun  of  Rigiiteousness. 
The  command  of  God  is,  "  Be  thou  in  the  fear  of 
the  Lord  all  the  day  long  ; "  and  the  carriage  of 
holy  men  is  answerable  hereunto;  "The  twelve 
tribes  served  God  instantly  day  and  night."  As 
the  angels,  thougli  they  are  employed  up  and  down 
in  the  world  for  the  service  of  the  saints,  yet  they 
"always  behold  the  face  of  their  Father;"  so  the 
children  of  God,  tliough  they  are  occupied  about 
civil  and  natural  actions,  are  called  hither  and 
thither  as  their  occasions  are,  yet  they  pass  the 
whole  time  of  their  sojourning  here  in  fear.  That 
watch  is  naught  that  goes  only  at  first  winding 
up,  and  stands  still  all  the  day  after';  that  man's 
religion  is  little  worth  tliat,  like  Ephraim's  good- 
ness, is  as  a  morning  cloud  or  dew,  which  vanishes 
away  ere  noon. 

The  rivers  run  ever  toward  the  sea,  notwithstand- 
ing that  hills  and  rocks  and  mountains  interpose 
and  force  them  to  their  winding  meanders  ;  nay, 
their  comjiass  about  is  not  without  profit,  for  they 
water  those  gnmnds  in  their  passage  through  which 
they  seem  to  wander.  The  person  that  has  the 
living  water  of  grace  in  him  is  always  tending 
towiird  the  ocean  of  liis  hap[)iiiess,  notwithstanding 
his  diversions  by  his  worldly  actions  and  particular 
Vocations  ;  nay,  he  is  doing  good  and  serving  his 
God  and  his  soul,  as  well  as  his  family  and  body, 
in  those  interjections. 

The  wheel  of  a  chariot,  though  it  be  in  motion 
all  the  day,  and  turning  about  the  ground,  yet  it  is 
but  a  -small  part  of  it  that  touches  the  eartli  at  one 
time  ;  the  greatest  part  is  always  above  it.  So  the 
true  Christian  ;  though  he  be  all  the  day  busy  about 
earthly  attairs,  yet  it  is  but  his  body,  his  lesser  part, 
that  is  employed  about  them  ;  his  soul,  his  affec- 
tions, which  are  his  greater  part,  are  always  above 
'hem.  — Su'innock,  1 673. 

3.  Why  he  is  not  to  set  Ms  affections  on  things 
below. 

(l.)   Because  the  xvealth  and  honours  of  the  world 
are  7iot  esse\:'.ial  either  to  our  dignity  or  happiness. 
(5044)   H  we  excel  in  the  use  of  reason  and  in 


the  knowledge  and  practice  of  true  religion,  oui 
goodness  is  not  impaiied  when  all  worldly  joys  fail 
us.  But  if  we  be  defective  in  them,  and  be  either 
foolish  men,  or  lame  and  bastardly  Christians,  these 
outwarti  ornaments  will  be  but  like  gay  hangings 
on  rotten  and  broken  walls,  which  commend  us  to 
the  sight  of  others,  but  do  not  better  us  in  ourselves, 
by  stopping  our  breaches  and  rejjairing  our  ruins. 
And  as  those  who  are  sick  of  the  dropsy,  seem  fat 
and  in  good  liking  to  those  who  are  far  off,  wliereas 
it  plainly  appears  to  those  who  look  upon  them 
nearer  hand,  that  their  beauty  proc'»'?ds  not  irom 
the  good  habitude  of  their  bodijs,  but  from  their 
fulness  of  humouis,  which  is  the  true  cause  of  their 
disease  :  so  those  who  abound  with  these  outward 
things  may  seem  better  and  more  happy  than  others, 
but  those  who  consider  them  easily  find  that  it  is  but 
a  diseased  body  wiiich  commends  them,  and  that 
they  are  not  in  truth  bettered  by  all  these  things, 
but  rather  the  diseases  and  spiritual  sicknesses  of 
their  souls  incieased  and  made  more  desperate  and 
incurable. 

Let  us  not,  therefore,  account  ourselves  bettered 
by  these  outward  things,  for  then  our  goods  and 
goodness  will  both  at  once  fail  us  ;  but  by  those 
things  in  which  our  excellency  consists,  and  which, 
being  in  us  and  peculiar  to  ourselves,  do  make  us 
justly  to  be  preferred  before  all  other  creatures. 

We  know  that  a  player  is  not  better  than  his 
fellows,  because  he  acts  a  king's  part,  seeing  all  his 
excellency  is  in  his  outward  liabit,  and  nothing  in 
his  person  :  and  if  another  act  his  part  better,  he 
is  preferred  far  before  him,  though  he  sustain  the 
meanest  and  basest  personage,  because  his  work 
is  measured,  not  by  his  gay  clothes,  but  by  his 
excellency  in  his  own  faculty  and  profession. 

A  surgeon  is  not  commended  because  he  goes  in 
brave  apparel,  but  for  his  great  skill  in  curing 
wounds.  And  the  scholar  is  not  magnified  for 
his  fair  house  or  full  chests,  but  for  his  excellency 
in  all  manner  of  knowledge  and  learning.  Neither 
is  the  pilot  praised  because  he  has  a  fair  ship  gilt 
with  gold  and  well  rigged,  but  for  his  skill  in  navi- 
gation, and  care  in  using  all  his  knowledge  for  the 
good  of  the  passengers. 

And  thus  also  it  is  in  other  creatures.  For  the 
vine  is  not  praised  for  its  fair  leaves,  straight  body, 
and  good  timber,  but  for  its  fruitfulness  in  bearing 
good  and  pleasant  grapes.  Neither  is  the  horse 
bettered  by  his  rich  saddle  and  golden  trappings, 
seeing  liis  goodness  consists  not  in  these  things 
which  may  at  night  be  taken  from  him,  but  in  his 
shape,  strength,  soundness,  good  pace,  and  sure 
travelling. 

And  so  the  excellency  and  goodness  of  a  Christian 
consists  not  in  these  outwaid  things,  as  honours, 
riches,  pleasures,  but  in  the  fruits  of  godliness,  wliich 
he  oftentimes  bears  better  and  in  greater  abund- 
ance when  he  is  pruned  and  these  outward  super- 
fluities taken  away  ;  not  in  his  gay  habit  and  rich 
furniiuie,  but  in  his  swiftness  and  sureness  in  run- 
ning the  spiritual  race,  which  lie  commonly  best 
perfoims  when  he  is  lightened  and  unloaded  of  this 
worldly  bravery.  — Downaine,  1644. 

(2.)  Because  their  comparative  unimportance  is 
sho^vn  by  the  fact  that  they  are  bestowed  on  the  good 
and  on  the  bad  indiscriminately. 

(5045.)  Outward  things  happen  alike  to  good 
and  bad.  "There  is  one  event  to  the  clean  and  tc 
the  uticlean  ;  to  him  that  sacrificeth,  and  to  him  that 


WORLD.     THE 


(    835    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


sacrificeth  not ;  to  him  that  sweareth,  and  to  him 
that  fearelh  an  oath."  They  are  both  travellers  in 
the  thoroughfare  of  this  world,  both  lodge  in  one 
inn,  both  have  the  same  provision  ;  perhaps  the 
wicked  have  the  better  cheer, — but  in  the  morning 
their  ways  part  1  — Adams,  1653. 

(5046.)  Although  God  cast  common  blessings 
promiscuously  upon  good  and  bad,  yet  He  holds 
His  besi  favours  at  a  distance,  as  parents  do  cherries 
or  apples  from  their  children,  to  whet  their  appetites 
the  more  after  them.  — -John  Hill,  1658. 

(5047.)  AH  the  estate  of  a  believer  lies  in  hope — 
and  it  is  a  royal  estate  1  For  outward  things,  the 
children  of  God  have  what  He  thinks  fit  to  serve 
them  :  but  those  are  not  their  portion,  and  there- 
fore He  gives  often  moie  of  the  world  to  those  thnt 
shaJ!  have  no  more  hereafter.  But  all  their  flourish 
and  lustre  is  but  a  base  advantage,  as  a  lackey's 
gaudy  clothes,  that  usually  make  more  show  than 
his  that  is  heir  ol  the  estate. 

— LeigJiton,  1611-1684. 

(3.)  Because  they  will  Hot  bear  close  and  intelligent 
txamiiialion. 

(5048.)  The  world  and  the  best  things  of  which 
it  can  biiast  are  but  mere  vanities,  and  in  compari- 
son of  tjiid  s  spiritual  graces,  and  our  heavenly 
inheritance,  of  no  worth  or  excellency.  Neither  is 
there  anytiimg  in  the  earth  great  or  excellent,  but 
the  Chiisiian  minil  which  contemns  and  despises 
these  highly-esteemed  vanities.  They  make  a  fair 
show,  intlced,  to  those  whose  judgments  are  already 
forestalled  with  the  false  conceits  of  the  corrupt 
flesh,  and  seem  to  be  of  some  value  and  greatness 
to  those  who  look  upon  them  through  the  spectacles 
of  affection.  But  if  we  pull  off  these  false  covers, 
and  seriously  and  impartially  behold  them  after 
their  deceiving  colours  and  painted  vizards  are  laid 
asidCj  we  shnll  lind  the  world  in  its  chief  beauty 
and  pomp  to  be  but  a  glorious  hypocrite,  fair  in 
show,  and  foul  in  truth,  professing  and  promising 
much,  and  performing  nothing  ;  or  a  beautiful  sepul- 
chre outwardly  adorned  with  all  cost  and  bravery, 
but  within  lull  of  stencil  and  rottenness  ;  or  like  unto 
our  fair  buildings  in  these  times,  which,  making  a 
sumptuous  show  to  the  passers-by,  seem  to  invite 
poor  men  to  receive  relief,  but  within  have  no  pro- 
vision for  hospitality,  nor  food  to  refresh  those  who 
stand  in  need.  The  like  vanity  also  is  in  all  those 
worldly  things  which  are  so  affected  and  admired 
of  those  who  iiave  erected  them  in  their  hearts,  as 
their  idols  whom  they  serve  and  adore  ;  herein  truly 
resembling  idols  and  images,  which  are  outwardly 
adorned  with  gold  and  precious  ornaments,  and 
make  representation  of  some  excellent  personage, 
whereas  if  you  examin-.  them  any  further  than  the 
very  superficies  and  outside,  you  shall  find  them  no 
better  than  stocks  or  stones.  So  these  worldly 
vanities  seem  to  those  whose  weak  sight  can 
pierce  no  deeper  thai,  the  outward  show,  beautiful 
and  glorious  ;  whereas,  in  truth,  if  we  could  behold 
them  inwardly  with  the  eye  of  a  sound  judgment, 
we  should  easily  discern  them  to  be  contemptibly 
base  and  of  no  value.  In  this  respect,  like  those 
goodly  and  beautiful  pageants  which  being  out- 
wardly adorned  and  set  forth  with  gold  and  painted 
colours,  move  multitudes  of  people  to  run  afier 
them,  and  to  behold  them  with  joyful  admiration 
tnd  ravishing  wonder  ;  whereas  ii  you  look  into 


their  inside,  you  shall  find  nothing  but  a  few  sticks, 
rags,  and  patches  ;  and  in  respect  of  their  durable- 
ness  so  slight  and  weak,  thai  they  are  only  fit  for 
a  vain  show,  and  to  serve  for  a  day's  sport. 

— Downaine,  1644. 
(4.)  Because  they  are  perilous  to  the  soul, 

(5049.)  What  the  astronomers  say  of  the  eclipse 
of  the  sun,  that  it  is  occasioned  by  the  intervening 
of  the  moon  between  the  sun  and  our  sight,  is  true 
in  this  case  :  if  the  world  get  between  Christ,  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  and  our  sight,  it  will  darken 
our  sight  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  bring  eclipses  upon 
our  comforts  and  graces.  Again,  those  men  that 
dig  deep  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  they  are  oft- 
times  choked  and  stifled  by  damps  that  come  from 
the  earth.  So  it  is  with  Christians,  those  that  will 
be  ever  poring  and  digging  about  tlie  things  of  this 
world,  it  is  a  thousand  to  one  that  if  from  worldly 
things  a-damp  doth  not  arise  to  smother  their  com- 
forts and  quench  their  graces.  Lastly,  a  candle, 
though  it  may  shine  to  the  view  of  all,  yet  put  it 
under  ground,  and  (though  there  be  not  the  least 
puff  of  wind)  the  very  damp  will  stifle  the  light  of 
the  flame;  and  so  it  is  that  men  may  shine  like 
candles  in  their  comforts,  yet  bring  them  but  under 
the  earth,  and  a  clod  of  that  will  stifle  their  candle, 
will  damp  their  spiritual  comforts,  and  bereave 
them  of  those  joys  that  are  in  themselves  unspeakr 
able.  —John  Magirus. 

(5050.)  As  the  excellent  and  noble  hawk  called 
a  falcon,  upon  the  list  of  the  fowler,  seeing  a  prey 
flying  on  high,  doth  by  and  by  spread  her  wings 
and  offer  to  break  the  strings  wherewith  she  is 
holden,  and  to  be  gone  after  the  prey,  but  if  she  be 
hooded,  she  neither  seeth  the  prey  nor  is  any  whit 
moved  :  even  so  man,  whose  nature  far  excelleth 
all  other  living  creatures,  thinking  upon  the  things 
that  are  above  in  heaven  with  God,  and  with  the 
eyes  of  his  mind  beholding  eternal  bliss  and  end- 
less felicity,  he  is  inflamed  and  pricked  with  a  great 
and  wonderful  desire  to  attain  unto  the  same  ;  but 
if  he  be  hooded  with  ignorance,  spiritual  blindness, 
and  a  love  of  this  world,  he  will  never  be  touched 
with  any  heavenly  motion,  nor  any  whit  moved 
with  any  right  love  of  God,  nor  once  turn  so  much 
as  an  eye  of  his  mind  towards  heaven  or  God. 

—  Cawdray,  1 609. 

(5051.)  Learn  to  despise  the  world  ;  or,  which  is 
a  better  compendium  in  the  duty,  learn  but  truly  to 
understand  it ;  for  it  is  a  cozenage  all  the  way  ;  the 
head  of  it  is  a  rainbow,  and  the  face  of  it  is  flattery; 
its  words  are  charms,  and  all  its  stories  are  false  ; 
its  body  is  a  shadow,  and  its  hands  do  knit  spiders' 
webs  ;  it  is  an  image  and  a  noise,  with  a  hyena's 
lip  and  a  serpent's  tail  ;  it  was  given  to  serve  the 
needs  of  our  nature,  and  instead  of  doing  it,  it 
creates  strange  appetites  and  nourishes  thirsts  and 
fevers  ;  it  brings  care,  and  debauches  our  nature, 
and  brings  shame  and  death  as  the  reward  of  all 
our  cares.  Our  nature  is  a  disease,  and  the  world 
doth  nourish  it  ;  but  if  you  leave  to  feed  on  such 
unwholesome  diet,  your  nature  reverts  to  its  first 
purities,  and  to  the  entertainments  of  the  grace  of 
God.  — -Jeremy  7  ay  lor,  1612-1667. 

(5052.)  Some  are  not  made  better  by  God's 
gifts  ;  yea,  many  are  made  worse.  Give  Saul  a 
kingdom,  and  he  will  tyrannise ;  give  Nabal  good 


WORLD.     THE 


(    836    ) 


WORLD.     THE 


cheer,  and  ho  will  be  drunk  ;  give  Judas  an  apostle- 
•hip,  and  he  will  sell  his  Master  for  money. 

— Adams,  1653. 

(5053.)  The  devil  can  desire  no  greater  advantage 
against  thee  than  to  overlade  thee  with  worldly 
care,  that  he  may  say,  as  Pharaoh  of  Israel,  "lie 
is  entangled,  he  is  entangled."  If  this  thief  of  care 
robs  thee  of  thy  time,  get  out  of  his  hands,  lest  he 
rob  thee  of  thy  sortl.  If  a  friend  should  tell  you  that 
you  kept  so  many  servants  as  would  beggar  you, 
would  you  not  listen  to  his  counsel,  and  rather  turn 
them  out  of  doors  than  keep  them  within  ?  Wilt 
thou,  then,  keep  such  a  rout  of  worldly  occasions, 
as  will  eat  up  all  thoughts  of  God  and  heaven? 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(5054.)  Who  gave  thee  leave.  Christian,  to  over- 
lade thyself  with  the  encumbrances  of  life  ?  Is  not 
God  the  Lord  of  thy  time,  as  of  everything  else  ? 
He  does  indeed  allow  thee  a  fair  portion  for  the 
lower  employments  of  the  body,  but  did  He  ever 
intend  to  turn  Himself  out  of  all?  This  is,  as  if  the 
sailors,  who  are  allowed  by  the  merchant  some 
small  adventure  for  themselves,  should  fill  the  ship, 
and  leave  no  stowage  for  his  goods  ;  or  as  if  a 
servant  should  excuse  himself  to  his  master,  when 
-eproved  for  neglecting  his  duty,  by  saying  he  could 
•nt  do  it,  because  he  was  drunk. 

—  Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

>5055.)  The  world  does  by  the  Christian  as  the 
iittle  child  by  its  mother  ;  if  it  cannot  keep  her 
from  going  out,  then  it  cries  after  her  to  go  with 
her.  So,  if  the  world  cannot  keep  us  from  going  to 
religious  duties,  then  it  will  cry  to  be  taken  along 
with  us,  and  there  is  much  ado  to  part  it  from  the 
affections  and  thoughts.     — Gurnall,  161 7- 1679. 

(5056.)  A  Christian  too  conversant  with  people 
of  the  world,  resembles  a  bright  piece  of  plate  too 
much  exposed  to  the  air  ;  which,  tliough  in  reality 
it  continues  plate  still,  yet  grows  tarnished,  and 
loses  its  fine  burnish,  and  needs  a  fresh  cleansing 
and  rubbing  up.  — I'oplady,  1740-1778. 

(5057.)  A  thread  can  hide  a  star  ;  a  sixpence  can 
hide  the  view  of  everything  around  us  ;  and  a  man 
with  but  a  little  of  this  fleeting  world  may  blind  his 
mind,  harden  his  heart,  and  he  may  lose  himself, 
and  be  cast  away  at  last. 

(5058.)  The  world  betrays  the  soul  as  well  as 
the  hopes  ;  it  betrays  a  man's  soul  to  ruin,  like 
sweet  poison,  that  goes  down  pleasantly,  but  kills 
presently.  The  silken  cords  of  the  world  have  taken 
many  a  prisoner,  and  they  have  proven  their  fetters, 
which  they  could  never  break  again.  As  Judas  said 
of  our  blessed  Lord,  "  Whomsoever  I  kiss,  take 
Him,  hold  Him  last."  So  the  world,  being  the 
devil's  agent,  says,  "Whomsoever  I  kiss  and  em- 
brace, and  embraceth  me  mutually,  and  setteth  his 
heart  upon  me,  take  him,  hold  him  fast." 

— Ralph  Erskiiie,  16S5-1752. 

(S°59-)  ^  do  pity  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul  the 
careful,  busy  world,  and  would  fain  do  my  little 
part  to  instruct  and  warn  them  ;  or,  if  I  cannot 
save  them  from  certain  destruction,  to  instruct  and 
warn  all  against  the  strong  current  and  whirling 
eddies  of  the  gulf  in  which,  alas,  the  multitude  are 
sweeping  d>^wn wards  to  destruction!     What  think 


you,  my  dear  friends  ?  is  there  not  a  voice  without 
you  that  says,  "  I  was  not  made  to  be  the  world's 
drudge,  but  to  be  the  world's  monarch  !  Else  why 
this  capacious  understanding  of  all  secrets  of  nature  ; 
this  cunning  hand  that  worketh  it  into  infinite  forms; 
this  eye,  which,  being  armed  with  ingenious  instri'- 
ments,  at  once  possesseth  the  amplest  and  the  most 
minute  of  things?  And  why  this  heart,  which  is 
blank  in  the  midst  of  riches,  and  possessions,  and 
honours,  and  power?  Surely  this  soul  of  mme  is 
not  made  to  be  the  companion,  much  less  the  bonds- 
man, of  those  creatures  ;  for  it  is  uncomforted  in 
the  midst  of  them.  They  cannot  quiet  the  remorse 
of  crime  ;  they  cannot  heal  the  wounds  of  affection; 
they  cannot  extract  the  power  of  ingratitude,  or  fill 
up  the  tedium  of  disappointment.  They  bring  me 
no  peace;  they  do  but  increase  my  caies  :  one 
mountain  climbed,  another  ariseth  before  me,  and 
another,  and  tliere  is  no  end  of  the  labour.  I  do 
but  get  deeper  into  the  bowels  of  this  charmed  land, 
and  lose  more  and  more  my  own  liberty,  my  own 
innocency,  my  own  being.  I  am  hurried  and  has- 
tened along  with  a  multitude,  who  hurry  and  haste 
they  know  not  whitiier.  1  could  wish  again  for 
the  ignorance  and  inexperience  of  my  youth  ;  for 
certainly  I  grow  daily  more  hardened,  and  more 
cold,  and  more  shrewd,  and  more  artful.  I  am 
made  familiar  with  deception,  and  trained  to  en- 
dure it,  to  conform  to  it.  And  what  do  I  reap  as 
the  fruit  of  these  earnest  antl  laborious  sowings  ?  I 
reap  a  great  increase  jf  care,  a  lieap  of  worldly 
ambitions,  an  intoxicadci  of  worle'Jy  pleasure.  But 
where  is  conscience  gone  i  Where  are  iliose  ingeni- 
ous thoughts  with  which  my  life  commenced,  the 
blushings  of  shame,  the  ardours  of  enthusiasm,  the 
artless  simplicity,  the  free  and  delicate  honour,  t!ie 
tender  and  romantic  allections,  the  chivalrous  pur- 
poses, the  gay  and  glorious  morning  of  my  life  ? 
Where  is  the  poetry  and  the  romance,  and  the 
beauty,  with  which  my  early  soul  did  invest  all 
things.  Ah  !  and  have  I  reaped  the  loss  ot  all 
these  fascinations?  have  I  resigned  this  attendant 
angel,  whom  I  wooed  in  youth,  for  the  worldly 
beldam  w  ho  now  sits  heavy  u[ion  my  aged  breast, 
and  drinks  the  life  blood  of  my  heart?"  There  is 
hardly  a  wider  difference  between  an  angel  and  a 
demon,  than  there  often  is  between  a  young  man 
entering  tlie  woild  in  all  the  rich  exuberance  of 
youthful  spirit,  fulness  of  a  joyful  heart,  and  pas- 
ti-me  of  a  simple  and  innocent  imagination  ;  and  the 
same  being  after  he  hath  been  well  druuged  in  mam- 
mon's workshop  ;  worn  and  wearied  out  with  the 
chances  of  life's  lottery,  if  not  fretted  and  maddened 
at  the  great  gaming  table  of  ambition.  Which 
difference  all  know  better  than  I  can  describe  it ; 
for  mine  has  been  as  the  inland  lake,  compared 
with  that  boisterous  sea  on  which  many  have  had 
to  steer  their  course.  And  yet  I  am  not  ignorant 
(as  who  can,  who  hath  fairly  grasped  and  wrestled 
with  the  world  ?)  of  the  fearful  havoc  it  maketh 
upon  the  fair  person  of  a  man.  Which  may  well 
be  likened  to  a  brave  and  martial  troop  of  soldiers 
riding  into  the  field  of  battle,  in  all  the  freshness  of 
moining  strength,  with  military  glee  and  braN^e 
banners,  burnished  steel  and  warlike  minstrelsy  ; 
and  the  same  troop  returning,  tattered  and  torn, 
wounded  and  slain,  weary  and  sorrowful,  covered 
with  their  own  blood  and  the  dust  of  the  ground  : 
and  as  such  a  troop,  which  hath  been  defeated  and 
disgraced,  routetl  and  put  to  flight,  so  is  every 
company   of  men   whom  you  may  fix   upon,  aftef 


WORLD.     THE 


(     837     ) 


WORLD.     THE 


luvinjj  contended  in  this  world's  contest,  to  what 
they  were  wlien  tliey  entered  into  that  conflict, 
more  direful  to  the  spirits  of  men  than  ever  was 
any  battle  by  sea  or  land  to  their  bodies. 

— Irving,  1 792-1 834. 

(5.)  Because  they  can  be  serviceable  to  us  only  for 
a  very  little  while. 

^5060.)  Temporal  good  things  are  not  the  Chris- 
tian's freight,  but  his  ballast,  and  therefore  are  to  be 
desired  to  poise,  not  load  the  vessel  ;  tliey  are  not 
his  portion,  but  his  spemiing-money  in  his  journey  ; 
and  no  wise  traveller  desires  to  carry  more  money 
about  him  than  will  defray  his  actual  expenses. 

— Gtirttall,  161 7-1679. 

(6. )  Because  if  we  do  so,  we  shall  risk  their  con- 
tinuance, and  shall  certainly  destroy  our  spiritual 
peace. 

(5061.)  It  is  a  good  observation  that  is  made 
upon  that  place  of  Job  xxxviii.  22,  where  God  thus 
challengeth  Job:  "Hast  thou  entered  into  the 
treasures  of  snow,  or  hast  thou  seen  the  treasures  of 
the  hail  ?  "  where  the  commentator  noteth  out  that 
all  the  comforts  of  this  world  are  but  like  the  trea- 
sures of  snow.  Do  but  take  a  handful  of  snow,  and 
crush  it  in  your  hands,  it  will  melt  away  presently  ; 
but  if  you  let  it  lie  upon  the  ground  it  will  continue 
for  some  time.  And  so  it  is  with  the  things  of  this 
world  :  if  you  take  the  comforts  of  this  life  in  your 
hands,  and  lay  them  too  near  your  hearts  in  atTec- 
tion  and  love  to  them,  they  will  quickly  melt  and 
vanish  away  from  you;  but  if  you  leave  them  in  the 
proper  place,  and  do  not  set  an  inordinate  affection 
upon  them,  they  will  continue  the  longer  with  you  : 
as  if  you  should  line  a  garment  with  linen,  it  would 
do  very  well ;  but  if  you  line  it  with  pitch  or  glue, 
that  will  stick  fast  to  the  body,  and  in  all  likelihood 
spoil  both  the  garment  and  the  man  who  wears  it. 
So,  when  the  world  is  glued  to  your  hearts,  it  spoils 
the  comforts  of  all  the  mercies  that  you  enjoy  ;  and 
so  it  may  be  said,  that  the  otherwise  lavvlul  use  of 
them  is  abused  wlien  they  are  either  used  too  affec- 
tionately in  making  go<ls  of  them,  or  being  too 
eagerly  bent  in  the  gaining  of  them. 

— Spate  er,  1658, 

(7.)  Because  God  has  already  bestowed  on  us  a 
nobler  portion. 

(5062.)  The  Gospel  mentions  not  riches,  honours, 
beauty,  pleasures  ;  it  passes  these  over  in  silence, 
which  yet  the  O.d  Testament  everywhere  makes 
promise  of.  They  were  then  chikiren,  and  God 
pleased  them  wiih  tlie  promise  of  these  toys  and 
rattles,  as  taking  with  tliem.  But  in  the  Gospel 
He  has  shown  us  He  has  provided  some  better 
things  for  us;  things  spiritual  and  heavenly. 

— Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(8. )  Because  we  have  asstired  hope  of  a  better  iri' 
hcritanre. 

(5063.)  Ye  who  look  for  so  much  in  another 
world,  may  well  be  content  with  little  in  this. 
Nothing  is  more  contrary  to  a  heavenly  hope  than 
an  earthly  heart.  If  yuu  saw  a  rich  man  among 
the  poor  gleaners  in  harvest-time,  as  busy  to  pick 
Up  the  stray  ears  as  the  most  miserable  beggar  in 
the  company,  oh,  how  you  would  cry,  Shame  !  at 
such  a  sordid  wretch.  Wel^  Christian,  I  tell  thee, 
that  thou   art   more  shamelui   still,   if  thou   art   as 


earnest  after  the  world's  trash  as  the  poor  carnul 
creature  that  hath  no  portion  beyond  the  field  of 
this  life.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 

(5064.)  I  am  not  seeking  to  depreciate  the  art 
and  mystery  of  a  true  and  large  success.  Win  it 
bravely  ;  wear  it  nobly.  I  only  pray  you  not  to 
exaggerate  its  worth.  Remember  the  limit  of  all 
that  this  world  can  give  you,  and  its  doom.  Win 
your  prizes  ;  wear  them.  But  sometimes,  I  charge 
you,  lift  the  veil  of  your  eternal  future  ;  dwarf  these 
perishing  vanities  by  the  sublime  forms  of  the  eternal 
verities  ;  dim  their  glitter  or  their  glare  by  the  awful 
sunlight  of  that  higher  world.  There  will  be 
moments  when  your  proudest  successes  will  seem 
mean  and  poor  as  the  playwright's  tinsel,  or  as  the 
gaudy  lustre  of  a  ball-room,  when  one  passes  out 
under  the  clear  heaven,  where  the  solemn  flush  of 
dawn  is  stealing  u]5  into  the  sky.  When  those 
moments  come,  entertain  them.  Let  them  give 
their  messages.  Sit  thou  still  awhile,  and  hear  '.he 
word  of  the  Lord  which  they  bring.  It  may  be 
that  a  higher  kingdom  than  any  of  which  thou 
dreamest  may  then  be  within  reach  of  tliy  hand. 
There  is  no  need  to  fear  lest  this  earth  should  be 
eclipsed  by  the  vision.  Its  claim  is  too  pressing, 
its  hold  is  too  strong.  But  the  day  will  come  when 
it  will  all  vanish  as  a  dream  when  one  awaketh, 
when  all  your  great  things,  to  win  which  you  are 
tempted  to  sacrifice  a  life,  will  seem  slight  in  ycv.r 
esteem  as  a  child's  baubles  in  the  dawning  man- 
hood of  your  immortality.  I  only  pray  you  some- 
times to  remember  this.  I  would  not  cripple  you 
in  the  keen  race  which  you  are  running.  God 
forbid!  If  it  is  your  commission,  if  the  native 
tendency  of  your  faculty  is  to  get  on,  lay  to  your 
work  with  a  will.  Run  boldly,  run  swiftly  ;  the 
very  effort  is  a  culture.  But  do  not  despise  the 
beaten  ;  do  not  forget  how  heaven  may  honour 
them  ;  and  do  not  magnify  the  prize.  It  is  not 
much,  even  if  you  have  all  you  aim  at.  It  is  not 
much.  It  does  not  seem  great  to  any  but  to  the 
bedazzled  seekers.  We  may  say  all  of  it,  as  Queen 
Elizaljeth  said  of  the  crown  in  her  last  speech-to  her 
last  Parliament,  "  It  seems  grander  to  those  who 
look  at  it  than  to  those  who  wear  it."  And  it  will 
not  always  seem  grand  even  to  you.  I>et  the  sun- 
light of  heaven  stream  on  it  betimes  ;  it  will  spare 
yuu  pain  and  shame  when  life's  brief  fever  tit  is 
over  ;  when  you  wake  up  to  grnsp  the  substance  of 
which  this  world's  briL;htest  is  but  the  shadow,  and 
to  take  the  crown  which  a  man  must  lose  the  world 
for  Christ  to  win.  —J.  Bald'cuhe  Brawn. 

(9.)  Because  we  thus  dishonour  God  Himself. 

(5065.)  W^e  may  use  earthly  blessings  when  God 
^bestows  them,  yet  we  are  to  be  careful  that  we  do 
'not  take  our  chief  joy  and  comfort  in  them,  but 
rather  in  the  Lord  who  gave  them,  in  the  fruition 
of  His  spiritual  graces,  and  in  the  assurance  of  o>  c 
heavenly  kingdom.  For  God  did  not  give  us  these 
worldly  cottages  that  we  sliould  joy  in  them,  and 
neglect  our  stately  palace  ;  lie  did  not  bestow  on  us 
these  toys  and  trifles  that  we  should  rest  in  them, 
and  contemn  our  heavenly  patrimony  ;  but  only  He 
gives  us  tliese  coarser  meats  to  stay  our  stomachs  for 
a  time,  till  we  come  to  the  great  supper  of  the 
Lamb  ;  and  casts  unto  us,  as  unto  little  cliildien, 
these  pleasing  vanities,  to  keep  us  trom  crying  and 
com]ilaining,  till  we  come  to  age  and  are  capable 
of  His  heavenly  excellences,  and  of  those  glorious 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


(    838    ) 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


gifts  of  incomparable  value.  And,  therefore,  as  we 
are  not  always  to  be  children  in  knowledge,  so 
neither  let  us  be  children  in  affection,  doting  upon 
these  earthly  trifles  which  were  only  given  us  for  a 
time  to  use,  and  neglecting  in  respect  of  them  God's 
spiritual  graces,  and  that  heavenly  happiness  which 
is  provideid  for  us  to  enjoy.      — Downaiue,  1644. 


WORSHIP.  PUBLIC 

1.  Cliaracteristics  of  acceptable  •worship. 

(i.)  //  mitsi  be  offered  by  men  who  love  atul  serve 
God. 

(5066.)  You  think  you  serve  God  by  coming  to 
church;  but  if  you  refuse  to  let  the  Word  convert 
you,  how  should  God  be  pleased  with  such  a  service 
as  this?  It  is  as  if  you  should  tell  your  servant 
what  you  have  for  him  to  do,  and  because  he  hath 
given  you  the  hearing,  he  thinks  he  should  have  his 
wages,  though  he  do  nothing  of  that  which  you  set 
him  to  do.  Were  not  this  an  unreasonable  servant  ? 
Or  would  you  give  him  according  to  his  expectation  ? 
It  is  a  strange  thing  that  men  should  think  that  God 
will  save  them  for  dissembling  with  Him,  and  save 
them  for  abusing  His  name  and  ordinances.  Every 
time  you  hear,  or  pray,  or  praise  God,  or  receive 
the  sacrament,  while  you  deny  God  in  your  heart 
and  remain  unconverted,  you  do  but  despise  Mim, 
and  show  more  of  your  rebellion  than  your  obedience. 
Would  you  lake  him  for  a  good  tenant  that  at  every 
rent-day  would  duly  wait  on  you,  and  put  off  his 
hat  to  you,  but  bring  you  never  a  penny  of  rent  ? 
Or  would  you  take  him  for  a  good  debtor  that 
brings  you  nothing  but  an  empty  purse,  and  expects 
you  should  take  that  for  payment?  God  biddeth 
you  come  to  church  and  hear  the  Word  ;  and  so 
you  do,  ami  so  far  you  do  well  ;  but  withal.  He 
chargeth  you  to  suffer  the  Word  to  work  upon  your 
hearts,  and  to  take  it  home  and  consider  of  it,  and 
obey  it,  and  cast  away  your  former  courses,  and  give 
your  hearts  and  lives  to  1  lim;  and  this  you  will  not  do. 
And  you  think  that  He  will  accept  of  your  services  ! 
—Baxter,  1615-1691. 

(5067.)  If  a  person  were  to  attend  the  levee  of  an 
earthly  prince  every  court-day,  and  pay  his  obeis- 
ance punctually  and  respectfully,  but  at  other  times 
speak  and  act  in  opposition  to  his  sovereign,  the 
king  would  justly  deem  such  a  one  an  hypocrite  and 
an  enemy.  Nor  will  a  solemn  and  stated  attendance 
on  the  means  of  grace  in  the  house  of  God  prove  us 
to  be  God's  children  and  friends, — if  we  confine  our 
religion  to  the  chuich  walls,  and  do  not  devote  our 
lips  and  lives  to  the  glory  of  that  Saviour  we  profess 
to  love.  — Salter,  1840. 

(3.)  It  must  be  intelligent. 

(5068.)  Worship  is  an  act  of  the  understanding, 
applying  itself  to  the  knowledge  of  the  excellency 
of  God  and  actual  thoughts  of  His  majesty  ;  recog- 
nising Him  as  the  supreme  Lord  and  Governor  of 
the  world,  which  is  natural  knowledge;  beholding 
the  glory  of  His  attributes  in  the  Redeemer,  which  is 
evangelical  knowledge.  This  is  the  sole  act  of  the 
spirit  of  man.  The  same  reason  is  for  all  our  wor- 
ship as  for  our  thanksgiving.  This  must  be  done 
with  understanding  :  "  Sing  ye  praise  with  under- 
standing" (Ps.  xlvii.  7);  with  a  knowledge  and  sense 
of  His  greatness,  goodness,  and  wisdom.     It  is  also 


an  act  of  the  will,  whereby  the  soul  adores  and 
reverences  His  majesty,  is  ravished  with  Hisamiable- 
ness,  embraceth  His  goodness,  enters  itself  into  an 
intimate  communion  with  this  most  lovely  object, 
and  pitcheth  all  his  affections  upon  Him  ;  we  must 
worship  God  understandingly  ;  it  is  not  else  a 
reasonable  service.  — Churnock,  1628-1680. 

(3.)  It  must  be  sincere  and  spiritual. 

(5069).  We  may  be  truly  said  to  worship  God, 
though  we  want  perfection  ;  but  we  cannot  be  said 
to  worship  Him  if  we  want  sincerity  ;  a  statue 
upon  a  tomb,  with  eyes  and  hands  lifted  up,  offers 
as  good  and  true  a  service  ;  it  wants  only  a  voice, 
the  gestures  and  postures  are  the  same  ;  nay,  the 
service  is  better  ;  it  is  not  a  mockery ;  it  represents 
all  that  it  can  be  framed  to  ;  but  to  worship  with- 
out our  spirits,  is  a  presenting  God  with  a  picture, 
an  echo,  voice,  and  nothing  else;  a  compliment; 
a  mere  lie;  a  "compassing  Him  about  with  lies." 
—  Churnock,  1628-1680. 

(5070.)  God  doth  not  institute  worship- ordinances 
for  bodily  motion  only  ;  He  speaketh  to  man,  as  to 
a  man,  and  requireth  human  actions  from  him,  even 
the  work  of  the  soul,  and  not  the  words  of  a  parrot, 
or  the  motion  of  a  puppet. 

— Baxter,  1615-7691. 

(4. )  //  must  be  conducted  with  reverence. 

(5071.)  If  He  be  "our  Lord,"  let  us  do  Him 
reverence.  It  hath  ever  been  the  manner  and 
posture  of  God's  servants,  when  either  they  offer 
anything  to  Him  (iMatt.  ii.  il),  or  pray  to  receive 
anything  from  Him  (Ps.  xcv.  6),  to  do  it  on  their 
knees.  When  the  king  gives  us  a  pardon  for  our 
life,  forfeited  to  the  law,  we  receive  it  on  our  knees. 
When  he  bestows  favour  or  honour,  be  it  but  a 
knighthood,  men  kneel  for  it.  In  that  holy  place, 
where  men  receive  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  the 
honour  of  saints,  so  gracious  a  pardon,  so  glorious 
a  blessing,  there  be  some  that  refuse  so  humble  a 
gesture  to  the  Lord  Himself  Never  tell  me  of  a 
humble  heart,  where  I  see  a  stubborn  knee.  In- 
deed, this  bodily  reverence  is  not  all ;  the  tongue 
and  heart  must  not  be  left  out.  But  when  our 
body  is  in  such  a  position,  and  our  mind  in  such 
disposition,  we  are  then  fittest  to  speak  of  Him, 
and  to  speak  to  Him.  The  tongue  must  also  con- 
fers His  glory.  Those  little  engines  are  nimble 
enough  in  our  own  occasions  ;  they  run  like  the 
plummets  of  a  clock  when  the  catch  is  broken. 
But  in  our  public  devotions.  Amen  is  scaice  heard 
among  us.  The  Amen  of  the  primitive  church  was 
like  a  clap  of  thunder  ;  and  their  Hallelujah  as  the 
roaring  of  the  sea.  How  do  they  convince  our 
silence  1  — Adams,  1653. 

*  (5072. )  God  is  Lord  of  my  body  also  :  and  there- 
fore challengeth  as  well  reverent  gesture  as  inward 
devotion.  1  will  ever,  in  my  prayers,  either 
stand,  as  a  servant,  before  my  Master  ;  or  kneel,  a.( 
a  subject,  to  my  Prince.  — //(///,  1576-1656. 

(5073.)  God  is  a  Spirit,  yet  will  have  the  reve- 
rence of  our  body  as  well  as  spirit,  fcr  both  are 
His  ;  and  especially  in  the  public  A  pnnce 
would  not  like  rude  behaviour  from  his  servant  i^ 
his  bed-chamber,  where  none  besides  himself  is 
witness  to  it  ;  but  much  less  will  he  bear  it  in  his 
presence-chamber,  as  he  sits  on  his  throne  before 
many  of  his  subjects.  — Gurnall,  1617-1679. 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


(    839    ) 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


(5074.)  I  have  sometimej  had  the  misfortune  to 
sit  in  concerts  where  persons  would  chatter  and 
giggle  and  laugh  during  the  performance  of  the 
profoundest  passages  of  tlie  symphonies  of  the  great 
artists  ;  and  I  never  fail  to  think,  at  such  times, 
"I  ask  to  know  neither  you,  nor  your  father  and 
mother,  nor  your  name  :  1  know  what  you  are,  by 
the  way  you  conduct  yourself  here — by  the  want  of 
sympathy  and  appreciation  which  you  evince  re- 
specting what  is  passing  around  you."  We  could 
hardly  help  striking  a  man  wlio  should  stand  look- 
ing upon  Niagara  Falls  without  exhibiting  emotions 
of  awe  and  ailmiration.  If  we  were  to  see  a  man 
walk  through  galleries  of  genius,  totally  unini- 
pressed  by  what  he  saw,  we  should  say  to  ourselves, 
"  Let  us  be  rid  of  such  an  unsusceptible  creature  as 
that." 

Now  I  ask  you  to  pass  upon  yourselves  the  same 
judgment.  What  do  you  suppose  angels,  that  have 
trembled  and  quivered  with  ecstatic  joy  in  the  pre- 
sence of  God,  think,  when  they  see  how  indifferent 
you  are  to  the  Divine  love  and  goodness  in  which 
you  are  perpetually  bathed,  and  by  which  you  are 
blessed  and  sustained  every  moment  of  your  lives? 
How  can  they  do  otherwise  than  accuse  you  of 
monstrous  ingratitude  and  mora!  insensibility,  which 
betoken  guilt  as  well  as  danger  ?  — Beecher. 

2.  Reasons  for  maintaining  and  observing  it. 

(l.)  //  is  peculiarly  acceptable  to  God. 

(5075.)  No  doubt  the  prayers  which  the  faithful 
put  up  to  heaven  from  under  their  private  roofs 
were  very  acceptable  unto  Him  ;  but  if  a  saint's 
single  voice  in  prayer  be  so  sweet  to  Goil's  ear, 
much  more  the  church  choir.  His  saints'  prayers  in 
consort  together.  A  father  is  glad  to  see  any  one 
of  his  cliiklien,  and  makes  him  welcome  when  he 
visits  him,  but  much  more  when  they  come  together  ; 
the  greatest  feast  is  when  they  all  meet  at  his  house. 
The  public  praises  of  the  church  are  the  emblem 
of  heaven  itself,  where  all  the  angels  and  saints 
make  but  one  consort.  There  is  a  wonderful  pre- 
valency  in  the  joint  prayers  of  His  people.  When 
Peter  was  in  prison,  the  church  meets  and  prays 
him  out  of  his  enemies'  hands.  A  prince  will  grant 
a  petition  subscribed  by  the  hands  of  a  whole  city, 
which,  may  be,  he  would  not  at  the  request  of  a 
private  sul>ject,  and  yet  love  him  well  too.  There 
is  an  especial  promise  to  public  prayer  :  "  Where 
two  or  three  are  gatiiered  together  in  My  name, 
there  am  1  in  the  midst  of  them." 

—  Oiiruall,  1617-1679. 

(2.)  //  is  one  of  the  chief  channels  of  comnmnica- 
ti»n  between  our  souls  and  God, 

(5076.)  He  that  has  a  cause  to  be  heard  will  not 
go  to  Sniithheld,  nor  he  that  has  cattle  to  buy  or 
sell,  to  W'esiniinster.  He  that  has  bargains  to 
make  or  news  to  tell  should  not  come  to  do 
that  at  chuich  ;  nor  he  that  has  prayers  to  make, 
walk  in  the  hekls  for  his  devotions.  If  I  have  a 
great  friend,  though  in  cases  of  necessity,  as  sick- 
ness or  oliier  restraints,  he  will  vouchsale  to  visit 
me,  yet  1  must  make  my  suits  to  him  at  home,  at 
his  own  house.  In  cases  of  necessity,  Christ  in  the 
sacrament  vouchsafes  to  come  home  to  me,  and  the 
court  is  where  the  King  is.  His  blessings  are  with 
His  ordinances  wheresoever;  but  the  place  to  which 
He  has  invited  me  is  His  house.  He  that  made 
the  great  suj^per  in  the  Gospel  called  in  new  guests  ; 
but  he  sent  out  no  meat  to  them   who  had  been 


invited,  and  might  have  come,  and  came  not 
Chamber  prayers,  single  or  with  your  family, 
chamber  sermons,  sermons  read  over  there,  and 
chamber  sacraments  administered  in  necessity  there, 
are  blessed  assistants  and  supplements  ;  they  are  as 
the  alms  at  the  gate,  but  the  feast  is  within  ;  ihey 
are  as  a  cock  of  water  without,  but  the  cistern  is 
within  ;  he  that  has  a  handful  of  devotion  at  hi>me, 
shall  have  his  devotion  multiplied  to  a  gomer  here, 
for  when  he  is  become  a  part  of  the  congregation 
he  is  joint  tenant  with  tliem,  and  the  devotion  of 
all  the  congregation,  and  the  blessings  upon  all  the 
congregation,  are  his  blessings  and  his  devotions. 
— Donne,  1 573-1631, 

(5077.)  Though  the  most  remarkable  progress  of 
the  believer  may  be  upon  his  knees  in  secret  inter- 
course betwixt  God  and  him,  yet  public  ordinances 
are  the  means  of  these  private  intercourses  ;  though 
the  secret  may  be  more  comfortable  and  refreshful, 
yet  the  public  ordinances  lay  the  foundation  of  that 
secret  comfort  and  refreshment.  It  is  in  this  as  it 
is  with  the  public  well  of  a  city,  from  whence 
people  go  and  fetch  water  to  their  private  houses; 
for  ordinary,  there  is  not  so  much  use  made  of  the 
water  at  the  public  well  itself,  till  once  they  bring 
it  home  in  their  vessel  to  the  private  house  or 
family,  and  there  it  is  more  freely  made  use  of. 
Public  ordinances  are  the  wells  ;  but,  for  ordinary, 
the  children  of  God  are  not  so  much  refreshed  with 
the  water  thereof  till  once  they  get  home  to  some 
secret  corner  with  it,  and  there  they  get  a  mor? 
hearty  refreshing  drink  of  the  water  of  life  than 
they  got  at  the  public  well  ;  but  still  it  was  from 
thence  it  was  fetched  ;  and  so  the  foundation  of 
these  private  and  refreshing  meals  is  ordinarily  laid 
in  the  public  ordinances.  It  is  true,  some  that  go 
to  fetch  home  water  from  the  well  m.iy,  according 
to  their  need,  get  a  hearty  drink  of  water  even  at 
the  side  of  the  well,  before  they  bring  any  water 
home  ;  and  so  the  Lord's  people  may,  and  some- 
times do,  get  a  very  heaitsome  and  refreshing 
draught  of  living  water,  even  at  the  well-side  of 
public  ordinances,  while  they  are  hearing  the  Word, 
or  receiving  the  Sacrament  of  the  Supper. 

— Erskine,  16S5-1752. 

(3.)  It  quickens  the  devotional  feelings. 

(5078.)  Though  men  might  have  worshipped  God 
in  seciet,  yet  the  appointment  of  a  certain  day,  to 
be  entirely  devoted  to  His  service,  had  a  tendency 
to  spiritualise  their  minds,  and  to  make  every  one 
in  some  respects  useful  in  furthering  the  wellare  of 
the  whole  community.  Sympathy  is  a  powerful 
principle  in  the  human  breast :  and  the  sight 
of  others  devoutly  occupied  in  holy  exercises  is 
calculated  to  quicken  the  drowsy  soul.  The  very 
circumstances  of  multitudes  meeting  together  with 
laised  expectations  and  heavenly  affections,  must 
operate  like  an  assemblage  of  burning  coals,  all  of 
which  are  instrumental  to  the  kindling  ol  others, 
while  they  receive  in  themselves  fresh  ardour  from 
the  contact.  — Simeon,  1758-1836. 

(4.)  It  develops  and  ennobles  the  intellectual  and 
moral  powers. 

(5079.)  The  mmd  is  essentially  the  same  in  the 
peasant  and  in  the  prince  ;  the  forces  of  it  naturally 
in  the  untaught  man  and  in  the  philosopher  ;  only 
the  one  of  these  is  busied  in  the  meaner  affairs  and 
within  narrower  bounds,  the  other  exercises  himself 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


(    840    ) 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


in  things  of  weight  and  moment  ;  and  this  it  is  that 
puts  the  wide  difference  between  them.  Noble 
objects  are  to  the  mind  what  the  sunbeams  are  to  a 
bud  or  flower  ;  ihey  open  and  unfold,  as  it  were, 
the  leaves  of  it,  and  pui  it  upon  exerting  and  spread- 
ing itself  every  way,  and  call  forth  all  those  powers 
that  lie  liid  and  locked  up  in  it.  The  praise  and 
admiration  ol  God,  therefore,  brings  this  advantage 
along  with  it,  that  it  sets  our  faculties  upon  their 
full  stretch,  and  improves  them  to  all  the  degrees  of 
perfection  of  wliich  they  are  capable. 

— AUeibuiy,  1663-1732. 

(5.)  It  affords  opportunity  for  intercessory  prayer. 

(5080.)  It  is  not  merely  tlie  natural  influence  of 
public  worship  on  those  who  offer  it  of  which  we 
ought  to  think.  We  believe  that  in  the  mystery  of 
the  relations  which  God  has  established  between 
Himself  and  us,  lie  has  given  us  the  power  to  widen 
and  deepen  the  channels  of  !Iis  own  bounty,  and 
that  this  power  is  greatest  when  we  pray  together. 
When  we  ask  Ilim  to  remember  and  comfort  the 
sick  who  are  not  with  us,  we  mean  what  we  say, 
and  we  believe  that  in  many  a  daikeiied  and  silent 
chandjer,  bright  and  peaceful  thoughts  mnke  pain 
and  weakness  and  the  monotony  of  weary  days  and 
months  of  suffeiing  more  tolerable  in  answer  to  our 
prayers.  Do  you  say,  God  is  merciful  and  kind 
enough  to  console  the  sorrowful  without  being  asked 
to  do  it,  that  lie  will  not  make  their  relief  depen- 
dent on  our  sympathy  and  prayers?  I  reply  that  it 
is  very  plain  that  deep  and  strong  as  is  the  love  of 
God  for  mankind,  He  has  made  the  relief  of  human 
suffering  dependent  on  human  sympathy.  lie  could. 
no  doubt,  send  an  angel  to  the  sick  ;  but  if  you 
neglect  to  go,  no  angel  is  sent.  The  feverish  lips  of 
the  poor  woman  you  visit  would  not  be  moistened 
by  grateful  fruit  if  you  did  not  take  the  grapes;  and 
some  of  you  could  tell  how  little  children  would 
have  gone  hungry  to  bed,  notwithstanding  God's 
love  for  them,  if  you  had  not  bought  them  a  supper. 
If  God  has  made  men  so  depentlent  on  the  acts  to 
which  our  sympathy  prompts  us,  I  do  not  see  that 
we  ought  to  be  surjuised  that  He  has  made  them 
dependent  on  our  prayers  too. 

Far  beyond  the  limits  of  these  walls  travel  the 
results  of  the  prayers  you  habitually  offer  here. 
Men  who  do  not  pray  themselves  are  blessed,  and 
men  that  pray  a-e  blessed  more  richly  in  answer  to 
your  intercessions.  — /t".  IV.  Dale. 

(6.)  It  lays  the  foundation  for  heavenly  friendships. 

{5081.)  Our  union  with  each  other  is  only  less 
important  than  our  union  wiih  God.  We  may  not 
perfectly  understand  wliy  iliis  is  so,  but  it  must  be 
so.  liy  the  structur-;  )f  our  nature,  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  world,  i*  is  perfectly  plain  that  God 
wants  men  to  be  one.  In  public  worship  this 
design  of  God  is  recognised  and  honoured  ;  and 
Sunday  by  Sunday  strong  and  imperishable  links 
are  being  creatpd  which  will  bind  us  together 
through  eternity. 

Vou  may  say  that  you  come  and  go  without 
forming  any  friendships ;  that  the  people  in  the 
next  pew  remain  strangers  to  you  ;  that  you  pass 
each  other  in  the  street  without  mutual  recognition  ; 
that  you  know  nothing  of  their  life,  and  they  know 
nothing  of  yours  ;  and  that  the  idea  of  communion 
between  those  who  worship  together  is  a  theory  and 
nothing    II  >re.      I    may    frankly   acknowledge    that 


the  idea  is  not  so  fully  realised,  here  and  now,  as  it 
should  be  ;  but  I  am  not  at  all  disposed  to  acknow- 
ledge that  it  is  therefore  only  a  tiieory.  Your  li'e 
is  being  interwoven  with  their  life,  and  theirs  with 
yours,  more  closely  than  you  think.  You  will 
know  it  some  day  if^  you  do  not  know  it  now. 

Take  two  schoolfellows,  that  sat  on  the  same 
form,  were  flogged  with  the  same  cane,  and  went 
through,  in  the  same  class,  the  drudgery  of  master- 
ing the  rule  of  thiee.  and  getting  by  heart  tlie  Greek 
irregular  verbs;  they  were  not  great  friends  as 
boys,  perhaps, — but  after  years  ol  .separation  they 
meet  in  New  Zealand,  or  lar  away  on  the  banks  of 
the  Mississip]ii  ;  do  they  not  find  that  their  school- 
days had  brought  them  nearer  together  than  they 
had  ever  supposed?  If  there  is  any  kind  of  moral 
sympathy  between  them,  any  capacity  for  friend- 
ship, do  they  not  become  fast  fi lends,  and  feel  that 
they  are  inlmitely  more  to  each  other  than  if  they 
met  for  the  first  time?  There  are  ties  binding 
them  together  which  they  never  thought  of  at  the 
time  those  ties  were  being  formed  ;  the  mere  acci- 
dent of  having  been  at  the  same  school  makes  their 
friendsl»ip  incalculably  heartier  and  more  pleasant. 

When  the  external  temporary  distinctions  which 
now  separate  from  each  other  those  who  woiship 
together  have  for  ever  vanished,  it  will'  be  found 
that  they,  too,  have  been  brought  nearer  to  each 
other  than  they  had  imagined.  They  had  not 
dined  together,  or  lent  each  other  money,  or  talked 
to  each  other  about  the  weather, — which  thinrjs 
seem  to  form,  in  some  people's  j'ldgmer.t,  the  very 
essence  of  Christian  conHnimi<>n — L.:i.  Together  they 
had  conlessed  sm  ;  together  they  hio  received  the 
Divine  pardon  ;  together  they  had  been  baptized 
with  the  Holy  Ghost ;  in  singing  the  same  hymns, 
at  the  same  time,  they  had  known  something  on 
earth  of  the  blessedness  of  heavenly  worship  ;  the 
same  words,  from  the  same  preacher,  had  originated 
or  strengthened  their  devout  and  strenuous  endea- 
vours to  do  the  will  of  (Jod  ;  their  whole  moral  and 
religious  life  had  been  shaped  and  coloured  by  the 
same  influences  ;  and  they  will  discover  tiiat  a  moie 
intimate  fellowship  and  a  closer  sympathy  are  pos- 
sible to  them  before  the  very  throne  of  God,  as  the 
result  of  the  tlianksgivings  and  adoration  which 
they  used  to  offer  on  earth  where  "prayer  was 
wont  to  be  made."  — R.   IV.  Dale. 

3.  How  often  ouglit  we  to  attend  public 
worship  ? 

(50S2.)  In  these  Christian  days  God  has  pro- 
scribed no  rule  as  to  the  frequency  with  which  we 
should  worship  Him,  or  the  exact  forms  in  which 
the  worship  of  the  Sjjirit  should  be  expressed.  He 
has  left  everything  to  our  conscience,  our  judgment, 
and  our  love.  In  every  place,  at  all  times,  alone 
and  with  others,  at  home  and  in  the  church  of 
Christ,  we  may  bow  before  His  M.ajesty  .and  be 
sure  that  He  will  listen  to  us.  We  are  driven  to 
Him  by  "the  windy  storm  and  tempest  :"  we 
cry  to  Him  in  the  anguish  of  our  penitence,  or 
of  our  trouble,  or  of  our  fear  ;  with  veh':;ment 
entreaty  we  beseech  Him  to  avert  the  calamities 
which  threaten  us  ;  and  when  our  hearif  arc 
"smitten  and  withered  like  grass,"  we  lie  at  His 
feet  and  inijjlore  Him  to  pity  and  to  comfort 
us.  IJut  surely  this  is  not  enough.  Are  we 
not  covered  with  shame  that  we  should  so  easily 
forget  to  adore  Him  when  -^'t  might  come  to  Him 
without  tears,  and  rejoice  m   His  presence  as  His 


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(    841 


WORSHIP.     PUBLIC 


angels  do,  and  speak  to  Ilim  with  exulting  delight 
about  His  infinite  goodness  and  bounty  ;  and  that 
only  by  sorrow  and  chastisement  are  we  drawn  into 
most  intimate  coinmuiiiuii  with  Him?  Is  our 
Father's  house  so  unwelcome  and  dreary  a  place 
that  there  can  be  any  cause  for  keeping  outside  as 
long  as  the  winds  are  gentle  and  the  skies  bright, 
and  i>\\\y  going  in  when  the  rain  comes  and  the 
clouds  of  night  hang  heavily  in  the  heavens  ? 
'J'haid<  God,  He  does  not  refuse  to  let  us  in  when 
we  come  to  Him  as  our  refuge  in  time  of  trouble, 
but  it  would  surely  be  a  belter  thing  lliat  He  should 
be  our  "dweliing-place, "  the  home  of  our  hearts 
when  our  joy  is  perfect,  and  not  merely  the  asylum 
of  our  wretchedness.  — A'.  VV,  Dale. 

4.  Preparation  should  be  made  for  It. 

(5083  )  The  Christian  is  like  some  heavy  birds, 
as  the  bustard  and  others,  that  cannot  get  upon  the 
wing  without  a  run  of  a  furlong  or  two,  or  a  great 
bell  that  takes  some  time  to  tlie  raising  of  it.  Now, 
meditation  is  (he  great  instrument  tliou  art  to  use 
in  this  prcparatoiy  work,  allow  thyself  some  con- 
siderable portion  of  time  before  the  day  of  extra- 
ordinary prayer  for  thv  retirement,  wherein  thou 
mayest  converse  most  privately  w  ith  thy  own  heart. 
This  cannot  be  done  in  a  ciowd,  neither  must  it  be 
left  to  the  lime  of  engaging  in  the  extraordiiiary 
duty  ;  we  cannot  do  both  duties  together  ;  the 
husbandman  cannot  whet  his  scythe  and  cut  the 
grass  at  once.  Betake  thyself,  therefore,  to  thy 
closet,  and,  in  the  first  place,  call  thy  thoughts  off 
the  world,  and,  as  much  as  is  possible,  clear  thy 
soul  of  all  that  is  foreign  to  the  work  thou  art 
about ;  this  is  as  the  wiping  of  the  table  book 
before  we  can  write  anything  well  on  it.  Now  the 
more  effectually  to  gather  in  thy  heart  to  a  holy 
seriousness,  and  compact  thy  thoughts  together,  it 
were  expedient  for  thee  at  first  to  lay  before  thee 
the  grand  importance  of  the  approaching  service. 
Thou  art  going  to  stand  before  the  great  God,  and 
that  very  near  in  an  extraordinary  duty,  wherein 
thou  wilt  either  satisfy  or  profane  His  reverend 
name  in  a  high  degree,  and  accordingly  art  to 
expect  His  love  or  wrath  in  some  choice  blessing  or 
dreadful  curse,  to  be  the  issue  and  result  of  thy 
undertaking  ;  gird  the  loms  of  thy  mind  with  some 
such  awful  apjiieliensions  as  the^e.  As  natural  fear 
makes  the  spirits  retire  from  the  outward  parts  of 
the  body  to  the  heart,  so  this  holy  fear  of  miscarry- 
ing in  so  solenm  a  duty  would  be  a  means  to  call 
thy  thoughts  from  all  exieiior  carnal  objects,  and 
fix  them  u])on  the  duty  in  hand.  '*  In  Thy  fear 
will  1  worshi[i."  Such  will  the  print  on  the  wax 
be,  as  the  sculpture  is  ®n  the  seal  ;  if  the  fear  of 
God  be  deeply  engraven  on  thy  heart,  there  is  no 
doubt  but  it  will  make  a  suitable  impression  on  the 
duty  thou  performest.         — Giiriia'll,  1617-167.9. 

(5084.)  Our  worship  is  spiritual  when  the  door 
of  the  heart  is  shut  against  all  intruders,  as  our 
Saviour  commands  in  closet-duties.  It  was  not 
His  meaning  to  command  the  shutting  the  closet- 
door,  and  leave  the  heart-door  open  lor  every 
thought  that  would  be  apt  to  haunt  us.  Worldly 
affections  are  to  be  laid  aside  if  we  would  have  our 
woiship  spiritual  ;  this  was  meant  by  the  Jewish 
custom  of  wiping  or  washing;  off  the  dust  of  their 
feet  before  their  entrance  into  the  Temple,  and  of 
not  bringing  money  in  their  girdles.  To  be  spiri- 
tual in  worship,  is  to  h*  'e  our  souls  gathered  and 


bound   up   wholly  in    themselves,    and   offered   t« 
God.  — Charnock,  1 628- 1 680. 

(50S5.)  Sequester  yourselves  from  all  earthly 
employments,  and  set  apart  some  time  for  solemn 
prepa.alion  to  •\\zt\.  God  in  duty.  You  cannot 
come  hot,  reeking  out  of  the  woild  into  God's 
presence,  but  you  will  find  the  influence  of  it  in 
your  duties,  li  is  with  the  heart  a  few  minutes 
since  plunged  in  the  world,  now  at  the  feet  of  God, 
just  as  with  the  sea  after  a  storm,  which  still  con- 
tinues working  muddy  and  disquiet ;  though  the 
wind  be  laid  and  storm  over,  thy  heart  must  have 
some  time  to  settle.  There  are  few  musicians  that 
can  take  down  a  lute  or  viol,  and  play  presently 
upon  it,  without  some  time  to  tune  it.  When  thou 
goest  to  God  in  any  duly,  take  thy  heart  aside,  and 
say,  "O  my  soul,  lam  now  addressing  myself  to 
the  greatest  work  that  ever  a  creature  was  em- 
ployed about.  I  am  going  into  the  awful  presence 
of  God,  about  business  of  everlasting  moment." 

— Salter. 

5.  While  we  are  engaged  in  It,  our  thoughts 
must  be  kept  under  control, 

(50S6. )  A  remembrance  of  God's  omnipresence 
will  quell  distractions  in  worship.  The  actual 
thoughts  of  this  would  establish  our  thoughts,  pull 
them  back  when  they  begin  to  rove,  and  blow  ofl 
all  the  froth  tliat  lies  on  the  top  of  our  spirits.  An 
eye  taken  up  with  the  presence  of  one  object  is  not 
at  leisure  to  be  filled  with  another ;  he  that  looks 
intently  u])on  the  sun  shall  have  nothing  for  a  while 
but  the  sun  in  his  eye.  Ojipose  to  every  intruding 
thought  the  idea  of  the  Divine  omnipresence,  and 
put  it  to  silence  by  the  awe  of  His  majesty.  When 
the  master  is  present  scholars  mind  their  books, 
keep  their  places,  and  run  not  over  the  forms  to 
pLiy  with  one  another ;  and  the  master's  eye  keeps 
an  idle  servant  to  his  work,  that  otherwise  wou.d 
be  gazing  at  every  straw,  and  prating  to  every  pas- 
senger. How  soon  would  the  remembrance  of  this 
dash  all  extravagant  fancies  out  of  countenance, 
just  as  the  news  of  the  approach  of  a  ]>rince  would 
make  the  courtiers  bustle  up  themselves,  huddle  uu 
their  vain  sports,  and  prepare  themselves  for  a 
reverent  behaviour  in  his  sight.  We  should  not 
dare  to  give  God  a  piece  of  our  heart,  when  we  ap- 
prehend Him  present  with  the  whole;  we  should 
not  dare  to  mock  one  that  we  knew  was  more  in- 
wards with  us  than  we  are  with  ourselves,  and 
that  beheld  every  motion  of  our  mind  as  well  as 
action  of  our  body.  — Charnock,  1628-1680. 

(5087.)  Seeing  it  is  much  in  the  capacity  and 
frame  of  thy  heart,  how  much  thou  shall  enjoy  of 
God  in  this  contemplation,  be  sure  that  all  the  room 
thou  hast  be  emiJty  ;  and,  if  ever,  seek  Him  here 
with  all  thy  soul  :  thrust  not  Christ  into  the  stable 
and  the  manger,  as  if  thou  hadst  better  guests  for 
the  chiefesl  rooms.  Say  to  all  thy  worldly  busi- 
ness and  thoughts,  as  Christ  to  His  disciples,  "Sit 
you  here,  while  I  go  and  pray  yonder"  (Matt.  xxvi. 
36).  Or  as  Abraham,  when  he  went  to  sacrifice 
Isaac,  left  his  servant  and  ass  below  the  mount, 
saying,  "  Slay  you  here,  and  I  and  ihe  lad  will  go 
yonder  and  worship,  and  come  again  to  you  :"  so 
say  thou  to  all  ihy  worklly  thoughts,  "Abide  you 
below,  while  I  go  up  to  Christ,  and  then  I  will 
return  to  you  again."  Yea,  as  God  did  terrify  the 
people  with  His  threats  of  death,  if  any  one  shouW 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


(    842    ) 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


dare  to  come  to  the  mount,  when  Moses  was  to 
receive  the  law  from  God  ;  so  do  thou  terrify  thy 
own  heart,  and  use  violence  against  thy  intruding 
thouglits,  if  they  offer  to  accompany  lliee  to  the 
mount  of  contemplation.  Even  as  the  priests 
thrust  Uzziah  the  king  out  of  tlie  Teni]-)le,  where  he 
presumed  to  burn  incense,  when  they  saw  the 
leprosy  to  arise  upon  him  ;  so  do  thou  thrust  these 
thoughts  from  tlie  temple  of  thy  heart,  which  have 
the  badge  of  God's  prohibition  upon  them.  As  you 
will  beat  back  your  dogs,  yea,  and  leave  your 
servants  beiiind  you,  when  you  yourselves  are 
admitted  into  the  prince's  pre-^ence,  so  also  do  by 
these.  Yourselves  may  be  welcome,  but  such  fol- 
lowers may  not.  — Baxter,  161 5-1 691. 

6.  Common  sins  In  public  worsblp. 

(5088.)  In  public  worship  all  should  join.  The 
little  strings  go  to  make  up  a  concert,  as  well  as 
the  great.  — Goodwin,  1600-1679. 

(50S9.)  That  man  coolly  insults  God  who  need- 
lessly composes  himself  to  slumber,  when  professing 
to  be  a  suppliant  for  mercy  at  His  feet. 

Similar  is  the  presumption  of  neglecting  to  par- 
ticipate in  divine  worship  when  present  in  God's 
house.  Negative  sins  are  sometimes  most  intensely 
sinful.  Heedless  sins  are  sometimes  most  fearfully 
fatal. 

If  you  were  one  of  a  delegation  to  the  Court  of 
St.  Jame.i's  for  the  presentation  of  a  petition,  and 
were  atlmitted  to  audience  with  the  Queen,  should 
you  think  it  becoming  to  the  dignity  of  the  royal 
presence  to  neglect  the  business  in  hand,  and  to 
wander  about  the  apartment  curiously,  while  your 
chairman  wasprese-'.ing  the  petition  in  your  name? 
Yet  that  which  would  be  only  a  breach  of  etiquette 
there,  is  a  much  graver  offence  in  the  house  of  God. 
A  listless  and  wandering  mind — roving  like  fool's 
eyes — in  the  temple  of  worship,  is  a  most  insolent 
indignity  to  the  King  of  kings.  — Plielps. 

(5090.)  There  are  practices  tolerated  in  religious 
congregations  v.'hich  Christians  who  are  jealous  for 
the  honour  of  their  Master's  house  should  utterly 
condemn.  Decorum  is  the  handmaid  of  devotional 
feeling,  and  for  this  reason  the  house  of  God  should 
never  be  disturbed  by  the  slightest  approach  to  ir- 
reverence. 

"  It  is  a  part  of  my  religion,"  said  a  pious  old 
lady,  when  asked  why  she  went  early  to  church  ; 
"  it  is  a  part  of  my  religion  not  to  interrupt  the  re- 
ligion of  others."  And  we  believe  if  many  a 
country  congregation  made  it  a  part  of  their  religion 
not  to  twist  their  necks  almost  out  of  joint  to  wit- 
ness the  entrance  of  every  person  who  passes  up 
the  aisle  during  service,  it  would  be  better  both  for 
their  necks  and  their  religion. 

A  gross  abuse  of  religious  decorum  sometimes 
needs  harsh  medicine  as  a  remedy.  We  give  that 
adopted  by  Henry  Clay  Dean,  who  was  at  one  time 
Chaplain  of  Congress.  The  anecdote  is  from  the 
*'  Pacific  Methodist  "  : — 

"  Being  worried  one  afternoon  by  this  turning 
practice  in  his  congregation,  Mr.  Dean  stopped  in 
his  sermon  and  said  : 

"  '  Now,  you  listen  to  me,  and  I'll  tell  you  who 
the  people  are  as  each  one  of  them  comes  in.' 

"  He  then  went  on  with  his  discourse,  until  a 
gentleman    entered,    when   he  bawled  out,  like  an 

usher,    '  Deacon  A ,   who   keeps  the  shop  over 

the  way,'  and  then  went  oi  with  his  sermon.     Pre- 


sently another  man  passed  up  the  aisle,  and  his 
name,  residence,  and  occupation  were  L;iven  ;  so  he 
continued  for  some  time.  At  lengtli  some  one 
entered  the  door  who  was  unknown  to  Mr.  Dean, 
when  he  cried  out,  '  A  little  old  man,  with  drab 
coat  and  an  old  white  hat  ;  don't  know  him — look 
for  yourselves.*     That  congregation  was  cured." 

(5091.)  When  the  time  for  commencing  public 
worship  has  been  fixed  by  the  united  action  or 
general  assent  of  a  Christian  congregation,  every 
member  of  liiat  congregation  is  obligated  to  conform 
to  that  arrangement ;  and  whoever,  through  indol- 
ence or  indifference,  is  behind  time,  sins  against 
God,  his  fellow-worshipjDers,  and  his  own  good. 
A  tardy  courtier  offentls  his  prince — how  much 
more  a  tardy  worshi]3per  his  God.  To  be  behind 
time  at  a  business  appointment,  is  to  infringe  upon 
the  time  and  rights  of  others,  and  never  more  so 
than  when  that  business  is  worshipping  God. 

7.  B7  what  rule  the  material  accompaniments 
of  worship  are  to  be  judged. 

(5092.)  Excess  of  material  circumstance  in  spiri 
tual  worship,  whether  of  architectural  adornment, 
ritual  ceremony,  musical  elaboration,  or  even  intel- 
lectual lasliiliousness,  is  as  injurious  to  it  as  is  over- 
cumbrous  machinery  in  manufacture,  excess  of 
ceremonial  in  social  life,  superfluous  raiment  to 
personal  activity,  or  gaudy  ornamentation  to  per- 
sonal grace.  It  is  both  injurious  to  life  and  offen- 
sive to  taste.  But  equally  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  p'enuriousness  and  nakedness.  If  we  may  not 
overlay  spiritual  life,  neither  may  we  denude  it. 
Tiie  true  law  of  life  is  that  its  energies  be  developed 
in  all  the  force  and  with  all  the  beauty  of  which 
they  are  capable,  and  that  it  worship  with  such 
cultured  adornment  as  in  the  highest  degree  may 
appeal  to  and  express  its  own  spiiitual  emotions. 
This  is  the  simple  law  and  the  sufficient  test  of  all 
artistic  ajipliances.  Is  any  particular  cultus  con- 
ducive to  the  \\orshipping  heart  of  the  congregation? 
If  not,  and  still  more  if  it  be  injurious  to  it,  then 
no  matter  how  beautiful  in  itself  it  may  be — how 
conducive  to  the  profit  and  joy  of  other  congrega- 
tions— however  sanctioned  by  history  and  contem- 
porary use — let  it  l)e  rejected,  and,  if  needful,  let  it 
be  dealt  with  as  the  serpent  of  bra-s,  which  Heze- 
kiah  destroyed  and  pronounced  to  be  "  Nehushtan." 

—Allon. 

8.  Necessity  of  a  suitable  building. 

(5093.)  The  church  ought  to  be  of  a  comely 
structure,  propoi  tionably  magnificent  to  the  number 
of  the  people  that  are  to  have  recourse  to  it  in  the 
common  exercise  of  their  devotions.  For  though 
men  of  equal  condition  may  make  bold  with  them- 
selves and  meet  in  what  place  they  please,  yet  it 
would  be  thought  a  piece  of  gross  unmannerlinesj 
to  expect  a  prince  to  give  an  inferior  peasant  the 
meeting  in  a  barn  or  cow  stable.  Would  it  not, 
then,  look  like  a  piece  of  irreligious  rudeness,  which 
is  truly  a  kind  of  profaneness,  to  expect  that 
Almighty  God,  and  His  Son,  Jesus  Christ,  should 
give  us  the  meeting  in  squalid  or  s>.tdid  places,  even 
then  when  we  pretend  most  to  show  our  reverence 
and  devotion  to  Him?  For  though  we  may  make 
bold  one  with  another  to  meet  where  we  please  ; 
yet  we  making  our  approaches  to  God  in  those 
places,  and  He  therefore  making  His  special  ap- 
proaches to  us  (for  in  a  philosophical  sense  He  is 


j^ORSHIP.     PUBLIC 


(     «43     ) 


WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 


eveiywhere  alike),  questionless  it  cannot  but  be  an 
expiession  of  our  reverence  unto  liim  to  have  the 
structure  of  the  place  proportionably  capacious, 
well  and  fairly  buiit,  and  as  properly  significant  of 
our  religion  and  devotional  homages  we  owe  to  our 
crucified  Savioui,  as  can  be  without  suspicion  of 
idolatry  or  any  scandalous  supeistition.  For  it  is 
true  from  the  very  light  of  nature,  which  the  know- 
ledge of  Christ  does  not  extinguish,  but  direct  and 
perfect,  that  houses  of  puljlic  worship  ought  to  have 
some  stateliness  and  splendour  in  them  expressive 
of  the  reverence  we  bear  to  the  Godhead  we  adore. 
— Hmry  More,  1614-1687. 

(5094O  But  must  there  not  be  an  "order"  of 
architecture  appropriate  to  Christian  churches  ? 
Should  not  the  very  structure  of  our  buildings  for 
worship  indicate  their  sacred  purpose  ;  I  reply, 
that,  of  course,  every  building  sliould  correspond  to 
the  object  for  which  it  is  erected.  If  I  build  a 
cotton-mill  there  must  be  an  engine  -  house,  and 
loog  rooms  for  the  machinery.     If  1  build  a  retail 


shop  there  must  be  a  window  to  display  the  goods, 
and  there  must  be  convenience  for  storing  ihetn, 
and  there  must  be  easy  access  for  the  customers,  and 
arrangements  to  prevent  those  that  come  in  to  buy 
from  interfering  with  those  emjiloyed  to  sell.  In  a 
court  of  justice,  there  must  be  a  bench  for  the  judge, 
and  a  bar  for  the  criminals,  and  a  box  for  the  wit- 
nesses, and  accommodation  for  the  barristers,  and  a 
place  for  the  genera]  public. 

If  I  build  a  church,  it  is  right  that  I  should  build 
it  with  a  due  legard  to  the  use  to  which  it  is  de- 
voted. I  may  be  led  to  the  choice  of  a  certain 
order  of  arcliitecture,  because  in  this  country  that 
order  indicates  that  it  is  a  building  for  religious 
.  woiship  ;  but  in  all  the  arrangements  of  the  interior 
1  ougiit  to  be  guided  by  the  fact,  that  it  is  meant  to 
be  a  place  of  asseiublv  in  -vhich  a  Christian  congre- 
^a/ion  shall  receive  instruction  and  unite  in  ivorshp. 
Whatever  promotes  these  purposes,  ministers  to  the 
object  for  which  it  is  built,  and  nothing  must  be 
permitted  to  interfere  with  that  object. 

—R.  W.  Dale. 


INDEX    OF    ARRANGEMENT. 


INTRODUCTORY  READINGS, 

L  ON   THE   IMPORTANCE   OF   ILLUSTRATION    IN   TEACHING,    I-4. 

II.  OUR    lord's    method    of   TEACHING,    5. 

III.  THE    FIGURES    OF   THE    BIHLE,    6. 

IV,  THE    DELIGHT   OF   THE    HUMAN    MIND    IN    METAPHOR,    7. 

V.    HOMELY    ILLUSTRATIONS   ARE    NOT   TO    BE    SHRUNK    FROM    NOR    DESPISED,    S^lQb 
VI.    WHENCE    THKY    ARE    TO    BE    OBTAINED,     II. 
VU.   MISTAKES  AGAINST   WHICH  WE   NEED   TO   BE   ON   OUR   GUARD,    I2-IS. 


THE  GREATER  TOPICS  IN  THEOLOGY  AND  MORALS. 


ADVERSITY. 

1.  Should  be  expected  by  all  men,  16,  17,  236. 

2.  Is  not  necessarily  an  evil,  18. 

3.  It  is  a  means  of  self-knowledge,  19. 

4.  It  shows  other  men  what  we  are.  20. 

5.  It  is  essential  to  the  development  and  perfect- 

hig  of  nobility  ofcharacier,  21,  22. 

6.  It   enables  us   to   discover   our   real   friends, 

23.24- 

7.  Moreover,  it  is  a  test  of  our  religious  experi- 

ences, 25. 

8.  On  all  these  accounts,  and  on  others,  it  is  sjiirit- 

ually  less  perilous  than  ]irosperity,  26,  27. 

9.  Things  to  be  avoided  in  adversity: — 

(a)  Selfishuess^  28. 
(/3)  Dapnir,  29. 
10.  Our  supreme  duty  in  adversity  :  trust  in  God, 
30- 
'AFFECTIONS.  THE 

1.  They  are  irrepressible   in   their  activity,  31, 

2706-2708. 

2.  Religion  calls  us,  not  to  destroy,  but  to  control 

them.  32. 

3.  There  is  constant  need  for  watchfulness  in  re- 

gard to  them,  33,  2699. 

4.  A  comprehensive  rule  for  their  exercise,  34. 

5.  The  (oily  and  the  baseness  of  setting  ihem  on 

earthly  things,  35-38,  5041-5065. 

6.  They  find  rest  only  in  God,  39,  2378-2387. 

7.  I'  should  be  the  chief  endeavour  of  preachers 

to  win  the  affections  for  God,  40. 

8.  How  they  are  to  he  won,  41. 

9.  How  they  are  to  be  controlled,  43-45. 

10.  Their  free  exercise  is  necessary  to  give  beauty 
to  the  religious  life,  46. 

A-FFLICTION. 

1.    O'JR  PRESENT  PORTION,  47"$ I,  366I,  $674. 
U.  ITS  GRIKVOUSNESS,  52    55. 


III.  ITS  DESIGN: — 

1.  To  produce  repentance  and  lead  to  amend* 

nient  of  life,  56-59. 

2.  To  prevent  us  from  guing  astray,  60-65. 

3.  To  recall  us  to  duty  and  true  happine«| 

66-70. 

4.  To  restore  us  to  spiritual  health,  71-74. 

5.  To  test  our  character  and  Christian  profes- 

sion, 75-82,  4452. 

6.  To  measure  the  progress  we  have  made  in 

the  Divine  Lile,  ?,;i,  84 

7.  To  purify  the  peojile  of  God,  85-90,  2842. 

8.  To  develop  and  display  the  graces  of  God's 

people,  91-98. 

9.  To  prepare  our  hearts  for  the  reception  of 

Divine  truth,  99,  100. 

10.  To  prepare  us  lor  greater   usefulness  and 

fruilfulness,  IOI-I08,  2464,  2465. 

11.  To  wean  us  from  the  worKl,  no,  ill. 

12.  To  prep.ire  us  for  eternal  glory,  112-II5. 

IV.  WHY  IT  IS  "good"  FOR  THE  LcjRD's  PEOPLE 

TO  BE  AFFLICTED  : — 

1.  Because  it  cleanses  them  from  sin,  II6. 

2.  Because  in  it  God   reveals  Himself  most 

fully  to  them,  I17-121. 

3.  It  strengthens  their  faith  in  God,  122-124. 

4.  Because  it  makes  them  fruitful,  125,  126. 

5.  Because  it  brings  out  their  graces  and  ex- 

cellences into  view,  to  the  glory  of  God, 
127. 

6.  Because  it  establishes  them  in  grace,  128. 

7.  Because  it  makes  them  grow  in  grace,  129. 

130. 

8.  Because  it  keeps  them  humble,  131,  132. 

9.  Because  it  teaches  them  true  wisdom,  I33» 

134. 

10.  Because  it  teaches  thtm  to  sympathise  with 

the  suffering,  135,  136. 

11.  Because  it  endears  the  promises  to  them, 

137.  US- 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


8-15 


12.  Because   it    teaches    them    to   prize   their 

mercies,  139. 

13.  Because  it  makes  them   long  for  heaven, 

140,  141. 

14.  Because  it  will  sweeten  heaven  to  them,  142. 

V.    DUTIES  OF  THE  AFFLICTED  .— 

1.  RecuL;nition  of  the  hand  of  God,  143. 

2.  Self-exaniination,  144. 

3.  Penitence  and  Ilunulity,  145-147. 

4.  Patience,  148-154,  1698-1710,  3670-3706, 

3709.  3713- 

5.  Faith  in  the   Divine  goodness,   155,   156, 

36S5-3691,  4051,  4055,  4056,  4764, 
4765. 

6.  Resii;iiation    and   self-committal   to   God, 

157.  158- 

7.  Courage,  159-161. 

8.  Gratitude,  162-165,  3692-3695. 

9.  It  is  the  duty  of  tlie  alTlicted  to  look  at  life 

as  a  whole,  166-168. 

10.  To  seelt  deliverance  by  the  use  of  all  ap- 

pointed means,  169,  170. 

11.  But    they    are     not    to    seek    comfort    in 

worldly  things,  171. 

12.  Nor  unduly  to  depend  on  human  aid,  172. 

13.  Nor    to    sceli    relief    by    sinful   methods, 

173  '75- 

14.  But  to  loolt  up  to  God,  176. 

15.  And  to  stelt  relief  and  strength  in  prayer, 

'77.  '78. 

Ti.    CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  AFFLICTED  : — 

I.  Affliction    is   apportioned  and    limited   by 

God,  179-188,  3674-3695. 
3.  Afflictions  do  not    nece.-sarily    prove   that 

God  is  angry  with  us,  1S9. 

3.  On  the  contrary,  they  may  be  an  evidence 

of  our  acceptance  with  God,  190-196, 
3692-3695. 

4.  Afflictions   assure   us   that  we  are   in  the 

heavenward  way,  197. 

5.  God  is  present  with  His  people   in   their 

afflictions,  198,  3677. 

6.  God  sympathises  with    His   people  in  all 

their  sorrows,  199,  231 1,  2322. 

7.  God    succours   and    sustains    His    people 

according  to  their  need,  200-203. 

8.  Afflictions  minister  to  our  true  wellbeing, 

204-212,  3678-3684,  3696-3704. 

9.  Afflictions  do   not   debar  us  from  useful- 

ness, 213. 

10.  Afflictions  prepare  us  for  greater  happiness 

and  honour,  214,  2464,  2465,  3692-3695. 

11.  Afflictions  are  among  the  means  which  God 

uses  to  make  us  "meet  for  the  inherit- 
ance of  the  saints  in  light,"  215,  3906, 
3702. 

12.  Our  afflictions  are  transitoi^y,  2l6. 

13.  They  are  light  as  well  as  transitory,  217, 

218,  3705,  3706. 

14.  Our  present  sorrows  are  not    to   be  com- 
*  pareti  with  the  glorj-  which  is  to  be  re- 
vealed in  us,  219. 

15.  Our  present  sorrows  will  give  zest  to  our 

fuiure  joys,  220. 

16.  Afflictions  bring  us  even  now   into  closer 

communion  with  God,  221. 

VII.    OUR  AFFLICTIONS  ARE    INTERMITTENT,  222. 
VIII.    IS  NOT  IN    ITSELF  SANCTIFYING.,   223-228. 
IX.    ITS  DIVZRSK  EFFECTS,  229-232. 
X.    SHOULD     BE     ANTICIPATED    AND    PREPAKED 
FOR,  234-236. 


AMBITION. 

1.  Is  in  itself  a  beneficial  impulse,  237. 

2.  Yet  the  craving  for   prominence  is  often  the 

mark  of  a  poor  nature,  238. 

3.  It  is  usually  unwise,  239,  240,  3264,  4364. 

4.  It  blinds  the  understanding.  241. 

5.  It  is  insatiable,  242. 

6.  It  causes  men  to  set  aside  all  .Tioral  restraints, 

243. 

7.  It  exposes  us  to  bitter  disappointment,    244, 

245,  2386. 

8.  The  penalties  of  successful  ambition  more  than 

outweigh  its  pleasures,  246-248. 

9.  Its  triumphs  are  soon  ended,  249. 

10.  It  must  be  checked  in  its  commencement,  250. 

11.  There  is  a   Christian  ambition   by  which  w« 

should  all  be  inspired,  251. 

ANGELS.  THE 

1.  Reasonableness  of    belief  in  their  existence, 

252. 

2.  How  little  we  know  of  them,  253. 

3.  Their  appearance  to  the  shepherds,  254. 

4.  Inseparable  from  our  conceptions  of  Christy 

255- 

5.  How  they  set  us  an  example,  256. 

6.  Their  interest  in  man,  257. 

7.  Their  care  for  God's  children,  258. 

8.  Their  joy  in  the  conversion  of  sinners,  259,  26a 

ANGER. 

1.  Defined,  261. 

2.  Differs  from  hatred,  262-264. 

3.  A  compound  of  pride  and  tolly,  265,  I4J. 

4.  Different  kinds  of  anger,  266. 

5.  Impulses  to  anger  mujt  be  carefully  repressed, 

267-271. 

6.  Must  be  moderately  expressed,  272. 

7.  Is  not  to  be  loo  long  retained,  273,  274,  2696. 

8.  Its  unrighteousness,  275. 

9.  Its  folly,  276,  277,  4320. 

10.  The  folly  of  meeting  anger  with  anger,  278, 

279. 

11.  Silence  is  the  best  reply  to  offensive  saymgs, 

280. 

12.  It  often  works  irreparable  mischief,  281,  282. 

13.  Irritableness    is  a  characteristic  of    weak  and 

base  natures,  283-285. 

14.  How  the  tendency  to  it  is  to  be  overcome,  2S6. 

APOSTLES.  THE 

1.  Were  trained  for  their  task,  287. 

2.  Their  natural   unfitness  for  the  task  assigned 

them,  288. 

3.  The  wonderfulness  of  their  success,  289.  290. 

4.  Their  success  is  a  proof  that   they   wrought 

miracles,  291. 

5.  Their  boldness,  292. 

6.  Their   influence  compared    with   that   of  the 

ancient  philosophers,  :i93. 

ARGUMENTS. 

1.  Their  value,  294. 

2.  How  they  are  to  be  estimated,  295. 

3.  Are  not  to  be  accumulated  on  one  side  of  • 

question  only,  296. 

4.  Should  not  be  used  too  profusely,  297. 

5.  Value  of  probable  arguments,  298. 

6.  Lawfulness  of  argument  ad  horninem,  299. 

7.  Should  be  conducted  calmly,  300. 


846 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


8.  Folly  of  abuse  in  argument,  301,  302. 

9.  The   best  mode  of  reluling    sophistical  argu- 

ments, 303. 

rSSURANCE. 

I.    DESIRABIK.   304,305, 
II.    ESSliNTIAI.  : 

1.  To  II le  comfort  and  joy  of  the  believer, 

306,  307- 

2.  To  his  spiritual  vigour,  308. 

ni      IS  ATTAINAKLE,   3O9,  3IO. 
IV.     YET    EVEN    BY    GENUINE    BELIEVERS    IS    NOT 

ALWAYS  ATTAINED.   3II-3I4. 
V.    EFFUKIS   SHOULD   BE    MADE    TO   ATTAIN    IT, 

s^s.  316. 

VI.    COUNSELS   TO  THOSE  WHO  ARE   SEEKING   TO 
ATTAIN  IT  : — 

I.   Avoid  everything  that  would  tend  to  cause 
you  to  return  an  untrue  verdict,  317-319. 

3.  Remember  that  it  is  reasonable  only  in  the 

regenerate,  320. 

3.  Remember  that   it  is  attained    gradually, 

321. 

4.  Remember  tbat  it  is  frequently  not  attained 

till  late  in  life,  322. 

5.  Remember    that   some   men,   eminent    for 

holiness  and  usefulness,  have   had   pain- 
ful doubts  as  to  their  acceptance  with 
Cod,  323,  1649,  1651,  1653. 
vn.  now  IT  IS  TO  be  attained  : — 

1.  liy  the  exercise  of  Inith  in  God's  promises 

to  jiardon  the  penitent,  324,  1795,  1798- 
1802,  2926. 

2.  By    keeping  grace   in   action,    325,   4460, 

4461. 
3    By  conference  with  experienced  Christians, 

326,     1650.       [See     also     SELF-EXAMINA- 
TION, 4423-4475.] 
nil      REASONS  FOR  CHERISHING  IT  : — 

1.  Holiness  in  the  life,  327,  328. 

2.  A  sense  of  the  burdensomeness  of  sin,  329. 

3.  Every  evidence  of  spiritual  life,   however 

small,  330-334,    1798-1802,  1989,  2456, 
2470,  2471,  2947. 

IX      HINDRANCES  TO  ITS  ATTAINMENT  : — 

1.  The  weakness  of  our  spiritual  graces,  335. 

2.  Worldly  lusts,  336. 

3.  Distrncting  thoughts,  337. 

4.  Korgetfulness  of  the  true  object  of  faith,  338. 

5.  A  melancholy  temperament,  339,  1654. 

X.     EVEN    WHEN    IT    IS    ATTAINED,   IT    IS    INTER- 
MITTENT,   AND    NOT    ALWAYS    CLEAR    AND 
JOYFUL,  340-346,   2906,  2907. 
XL    WHEN    ONCE    VOUCHSAFED,  IT  IS  NOT  TO   BE 

LIGHTLY  SURRENDERED,  347,  348. 
XII.     lliiW  IT  MAY  BE  STRENGTHENED,  349,  350. 
VTI.     I  r  IS  NOT  TO  BE  ABUSED,  351. 
X  V.     FUR  WHAT  END  IT  IS  BESTOWED,  35a. 

Al'llElSM. 

L    ITS    ABSURDITY  EVINCED  : — 

1.  By  the  existence  of  the  universe,  353-359. 

2.  By  the  constitution  of  the  human  body,  360. 

3.  By   the    character   of  Cod's    works,    361, 

1491-1494. 

4.  By  the  preservation  and  government  of  the 

universe,  362-365,  3173-3176,  3 178-3 182. 

II.    THE    FOLLY   OF    ITS  APPEAL  TO   THE  SENSES, 

36t). 

III.    THE  VASTNESS  OF  ITS  ASSUMPTIONS,  367. 
IV.    ITS  PUWEK.LESSNKSS,  3O8. 


V.    IS  USUALLY  IMMORAL  IN  ITS  ORIGIN,  369. 
▼I.    DEGRADES  MAN,  370. 

VII.    ISMOR/LLY  AND  SOCIALLY  DANGEROUS,  37I. 
VIII.    IS   A  TRANSIENT  EXPERIENCE  IN  AN  HONEST 
MIND,    372. 
IX.    IS  RENOUNCED    BY    ATHEISTS  OF   ALL    KINDS 
IN  THE  TIME  OF  AfFi-ICliON,  373. 

ATONEMENT. 

I.    DEFINED,  374. 
II.    NECESSITY  OF  A    MEDIATOR,  375,  376,  4225- 
4228. 

III.  ITS  SUFFICIENCY,  377-381. 

IV.  FROM  WHAT  IT  HAS  REDEEMED  US,  382. 

V.    A   CAUTION    CONCERNING   A    FAMILIAR   COM- 
PARISON, 383. 
VT.    WAS  MADE  FOR  ALL  MEN,  384-386. 
VII.    THE    SPIRIT    IN    WHICH   THE    DECLARATIONS 
OF  SCRIPTURE  CONCERNING  IT  ARE  TO    BE 
STUDIED,   387-389. 
VIIL    NOT   THE    CAUSE,  BUT  THE  MANIFESTATION, 
OF  god's  LOVE  FOR  SINNERS,  39O. 
IX.    ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  UNIVERSE,  39I. 
X.    REASONABLENESS    OF    CHRIST'S   SUFFERINGS 
FOR  HIS  PEOPLE,  392. 
XI.    VICARIOUS    SUFFERING    THE    LAW    OF    THE 
UNIVERSE,  393-395. 
XII.    OBJECTIONS  ANSWERED  : — 

1.  Salvation  by  the  suffering  of  another  is  not 

inconsistent  with  the  Divine  justice,  396. 

2.  The  Redemption  of  the  human  race  is  not 

a  task  unworthy  of  the  Divine  greatness, 

397- 

3.  This  world  is  not  too  small  a  sphere  for 

such  a  wonderful  display  of  the  Divint 
love,  398. 

XIII.  NO  DIFFICULTIES  IN  OUR  UNDERSTANDING 
THE  METHOD  OFTHE  ATONEMENT  SHOULD 
HINDER  US  FROM  GRATEFULLY  ACCEPTING 
IT,  399. 

AVARICE.      [See    prosperity,    riches,    the 

WORLD.] 

1.  Defined,  400. 

2.  Is  a  result  of  atheism,  401. 

3.  Its  insidiousness,  402. 

4.  Degrades  the  character,  403. 

5.  Leads  to  dishonesty  and  falsehood,  404, 

6.  The  imagination  of  the  covetous,  405. 

7.  Is  insatiable,  406-412,  4971. 

8.  Is  especially  the  sin  of  old  age,  413,  4593. 

9.  Sometimes  overreaches  itself,  414. 

10.  Its  folly,   415,  416,  4397,  4400,  4958,  5008- 

501 1. 

11.  Its  misery,  417,  418. 

12.  Its  odiousness,  419,  420. 

13.  Inconsistent  with  ilie  hope  of  salvation,  421. 

14.  Excludes  from  heaven,  422, 

BACKSLIDERS. 

1.  Should  be  regarded  with  compassion,  423. 

2.  God's  compassion  for  them,  424. 

3.  Their  duty,  425. 

4.  What    reclaimed    backsliders  are  to  do  will, 

th.eir  "old  hope,"  426. 

BACKSLIDING. 

1.  Its  perilousness,  427. 

2.  Is  gradual  in  its  progress,  428,  4515.  4735' 

3.  Is  most   frequently  due  to  indulgence  in  littls 

sins,  429,  45»5-452S.  4742-4745- 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


847 


BEAUTY. 

I.    NATURAL  BEAUTY  : — 

1.  A  revelation  of  God,  430,  431, 

2.  The  love  of  beauty,  432. 

3.  Its  moral  uses,  433. 

II.    PERSONAL  BEAUTY  : — 

1.  Overrated,  434, 

2.  Not  in  itself  a  matter  for  pi  ide,  435. 

3.  Mere  physical  beauty  is  moially  worthless, 

436. 

4.  Transitory,  437. 

BELIEF. 

1.  On  what  ground  is  it  to  rest,  438. 

2.  By  what  it  is  determined,  439. 

3.  We  are  responsible  for  our  belief,  440. 

4.  Importance  of  a  correct  belief,  441,  442, 

5.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  our  destiny  depends  on  the 

correctness  of  our  belief,  443. 

BENEFICENCE. 

1.  Our  duty,  444,  445. 

2.  God's  rules  for  its  exercise,  446. 

%.   Its  dist.istefulncss  to  the  insincere,  447,  448. 

4.  Its  wisdom,  449,  450. 

5.  Its  re«-ards,  45i-453>  1 736-1 746. 

ft.   Beneficence  toward  man  is  true  gratitude  to 
God,  454,  455. 

7.  It  should  be  wisely  directed,  456,  457. 

8.  Should  be  prompt,  458. 

9.  Should    not  be  ashamed   or  afraid    to  stoop, 

459- 

10.  Should  be  unostentatious,  460,  461. 

11.  True   beneficence  is  unconscious  of  its   rarity 

and  worth,  462. 

12.  Is  not  to  be  restrained  by  in£;ralitude,  463. 

13.  Tbe  shame  and  guilt  of  abusing  it,  464. 

BENEVOLENCE. 

1.  Is  a  characteristic  of  every  true  Christian,  465. 

2.  Must  show  itself  in  actions,  466. 

3.  Posthumous  benevolence,  467. 

BEREAVEMENT. 

I.    IS  A  COMMON  EXPERIENCE,  468. 
II.    REVEALS  THE  POVERTY  OF  OUR  FAITH,  469. 

III.  ITS  DESIGN,  470,  471,   2739. 

IV.  HOW   IT  SHOULD  BE  BORNE  : 

1.  We  should   not  sorrow  as  those  who  have 

no  hope,  472. 

2.  With    thankfulness    for    the    friends   who 

have  been  taken  before  us,  473. 

3.  With   thankfulness  for  the  friends  who  are 

spared  to  us,  474. 

V.    CONSOLATIONS     FOR    THE    BEREAVED,     475- 
477- 

BIBLE.  THE 

1.    THE    NECESSITY    OF    A     REVELATION    IS   OB- 
VIOUS : — 

I.  From  the  ignorance  of  man  concernint 
himself,  478. 

3.  From  the  failure  of  all  the  philosophers  to 
construct  a  complete  and  coherent  reli- 
gion, 479. 

IL    IN     THE     BIBLE    WE    HAVE    A     REVELATION 
FROM  GOD. 

Z.  Nature  of  the  evidence  by  which  its  inspira- 
tion is  proved,  480. 


2.  The  nature  of  its  in^iration,  481,  482. 

3.  Proofs  that  it  is  Divinely  inspired  : — 

(I.)   77/1?  marks  it  bears  of  a  Divine  origin^ 

483-486. 
(2.)   77/1?  confidence  of  believers  that  it  it 

from  God,  487. 
(3.)  Its  distinctiveness  from  all  other  books, 

4SS-492,  3062. 
(4.)  Its   adaptation  to   human  need,  493, 

494,  2425-2427. 
(5. )   The  t'xhaustlessness  of  its  interest,  495- 

499 
(6.)    7'he  permanence  of  its  value,  500,  50 1. 
(7.)  Its  unity,  502-504. 
(8.)  Its  scientific  incorrectness,  505. 
(9.)  Its  infineiice  on  character  and  conduct, 

506-509. 

4.  The   doctrine   of   the   inspiration    of    the 

Bible  is  not  invalidated  by  the  state  of 
the  sacred  text,  510,  511. 

5.  Tlie  doctrine  of  the  Divine  inspiration  of 

the   Scriptures    is   not    essential    to    the 
authority  of  Christianity,  512. 

6.  Yet   its  inspiration  gives  authority  to  its 

utterances,  513. 

7.  Although  the  Bible  is  Divinely  inspired,  its 

revelation  is  nucessaiily  imperfect,  514. 

8.  An  objection  answered,  515. 

in.    ITS  GENUINENESS,   516,  517. 
IV.    ITS  AUTHENTICITY,   518-52I. 
V.    AUTHORSHIP  OF  ITS  BOOKS,  522,   523. 
VI.    VALUEI.F.SSNI'.SS  OF  TH  !•:   "HIGH  CRITICISM" 
BY  WHICH  THE  GENUINENESS  AND  AUTHEN- 
TICITY OF   VARIOUS  BOOKS   OF   SCRIPTURE 
ARE  SOUGHT  TO  BE  DISPROVED,  524. 
VII.    TRANSLATIONS  :  — 

1.  The  Bible  admits  of  translation,  525. 

2.  Their  value  and  use,  526,  527. 

3.  Are  valuable  in  spite  of  their  inaccuracies 

and  variations,  528. 

4.  Excellence  of  our   English  version,    529- 

532. 

VIII.    THE  BIBLE  AND  OTHER  AUTHORITIES: — 

1.  The  Church,  533,  534,  1 188. 

2.  Conscience,  535,  536. 

3.  Reason,  537. 

4.  Modern  Science,  538,  539. 

IX.    ITS  FUNCTION  AND  PURPOSE,  54O-542. 
X.    A  PERFECT  AND  PLAIN  RULE  OF  LIFE,  543. 
XI.    ITS  INTERPRETATION,  544-550. 
XII.    TO  BE  READ  BY  ALL  : — 

1.  Because  it  is  addressed  to  all,  551. 

2.  Because  its  saving  truths  are  comprehen- 

sible by  all,  552. 

3.  And   notwithstanding  that  some  wrest  the 

Scriptures  to  their  own  destruction,  553, 
554- 

XIII.    HOW  IT  SHOULD  BE  READ  : — 

1.  Frequently,  555,  556,  3197. 

2.  Not  merely  as  a  duty,  but  as  a  necessity, 

557. 

3.  Not    for   controversial    purposes,    but   for 

personal  profit,  558-560,  4860-4863. 

4.  As  a   letter    from    our    Heavenly  Father, 

561. 

5.  With  a  consciousness  and  constant  remem- 

brance   of  our   great    need    of  it,    562, 
4860-4863. 

6.  With  reverent  docility,  563-567. 

7.  Comprehensively   and  continuously,    568, 

569*  3197. 


848 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


8.  With  prayerful  meditation,  570,  571,  3477, 

3479.  3481-34S4.  3491- 

9.  With  appropriating  faith,  570,  4S60-4863. 

XIV.    IN  WHAT  SPIRIT  IT  IS  TO  BE  CONSULTED, 

573.  574.  387-389- 

XV.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  TREATED  BY  US  : — 

1.  It  must  be  loved  for  its  purity,  575. 

2.  It   must   be  diligently  studied,    576-580, 

4853. 

3.  Must  be  used  by  us,  as  well  as  dififused, 

581,4860-4863. 
XVI.    ITS  MYSTERIES,  OBSCURITIES,  AND  DIFFI- 
CULTIES : — 

1.  Are  not  to  be  denied,  582. 

2.  Do  not  extend  to  anything  essential  for  us 

to  know,  583. 

3.  To  what  they  are  due  : — 

(I,)  To  our  ignorance,    584,    585,    2715, 

2716,  4036,4813,  4814. 
(2.)    To  our  prejudices,  586,  4813. 
(3.)    To  our  presumption,  587,  4814. 
(4.)    To  our  indolence,  588. 

4.  Why  they  are  permitted,  589. 

5.  How  to  deal  with  them,  590,  591,  T797. 

6.  Are  not  to  deter  us  from  its  study,  592. 

7.  Are  not  to  hinder  us  from  exercising  faith 

in  Christ,  593-596. 

8.  To  whom  they  are  unveiled,  597-600. 

9.  Disappear  under  a  comprehensive  criticism, 

601. 
XVII.    ITS    PROHIBITIONS   AND  THREATENINGS, 

602-606,  3062,  3418. 
XVIII.    IS    NEITHER    INTERESTING   TO    NOR   COM- 
PREHENSIBLE    BY     ALL    MEN,    607-609, 
3860. 
XIX.    IS  PRECIOUS  TO  THE  BELIEVER,  61O-616. 
XX.    ITS  HELP  ALWAYS    NEEDFUL  AND  AVAIL- 
ABLE, 617,  618. 
XXI.    FULL  OF  CHRIST,  619. 
XXII.    PROFUNDITY  OF  ITS  MEANING,  62O,  62I. 
XXIII.    OUR   NEED    OF   THE  SPIRIT'S  HELP  IN    ITS 
STUDY,     622,      623,      2868-2870,      2877- 
28S2. 
XXIV.    IN    WHAT   KNOWLEDGE   OF   IT  CONSISTS, 
624. 

XXV.  HOW    FAITH  IN  IT  IS  PROVED,  625,  626. 

XXVI.  SYMBOLICAL        DESCRIPTIONS      OF       THE 

BIBLE  : — 

1.  It   is   the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  627,   628 

2S70,  28S5. 

2.  It  is  a  light  to  the  feet,  629,  630. 

3.  It  is  a  garden,  631. 

XXVII.    THE    ROOT    OF    CHRISTIAN    LITERATURE, 
632. 
KXVIII.    MrST    BE    ACCEPTED    OR    REJECTED  AS    A 
WHOLE,  633-635. 
XXIX.    ITS  PUACTICAI,  VALUE  NOT  AFFECTED    BY 
CONTROVERSIES  CONCERNING  IT,  636. 
XXX.    HOW  ITS  TRUTH  IS  TO  BE  TESTED,  637. 
XXXI.    FOLLY  AND  GUILT  OF  THOSE  WHO  REJECT 
IT,  638-641. 
XXXIL    SHALL  ENDURE  FOR  EVER,  642-645. 
XXXin.    AND    YET    ITS    MISSION    IS  TRANSITORY, 
646. 


EODY.  THE 

r.  Has  its  rights,  647. 

2.  The  folly  of  making  its  adornment  our  sup- 
reme concern,  648,  4641-4645. 
Ji  The  amount  of  care  due  to  it,  649,  650. 


BODY  AND  SOUL.  THE 

I,   Partners  in  life,  651,  4639,  4641-4648. 
1.  Their  mutual  sympathy,  652,  865. 

3.  The  influence  of  the  body  on  the  soul,  653, 

4638,  4639. 

4.  How  the  body  is  to  be  made  helpful  to  the 

soul,  654,  4640. 

BOOKS. 

1.  The  most  wonderful  of  human  works,  655. 

2.  Are  living  powers,  656. 

3.  The  permanence  of  their  influence,  657. 

4.  Sure  storehouses  of  truth,  658. 

5.  Not  an  unmixed  good,  659. 

6.  Love  of,  660-662. 

7.  Companionship  of,  663-666. 

8.  Choice  of,  667-670. 

9.  The  test  of  a  good  book,  671,  67J. 

10.  Great  books,  673. 

11.  The  most  useful,  674. 

12.  Voluminous,  675. 

13.  Small,  676. 

14.  The  best,  677. 

15.  Few  are  really  valuable,  678. 

16.  Poor  and  bad:  are  to  be  shunned,  679-681. 

17.  Modern,  682. 

18.  Are  meant  to  be  read,  683,  684. 

19.  How  to  read  them,  685,  686. 

CARELESS.  THE 

1.  Their   inattention   to  the    plainest   warnings, 

687-691. 

2.  Their  folly,  692-696,  1559,  4926,  4927,  4938, 

4942. 

3.  Tiie  pitifulness  of  their  condition,  697-699. 

4.  The  periiousness  of  their  position,  700-703. 

CHARACTER. 

I.  DISPOSITION  : — 

1.  Difference  of  character,  704. 

2.  To  what  extent  we  are  responsible  for  it, 

705-708. 

3.  How  it  is  formed,  709-711,  1836-1841. 

4.  How  it  is  to  be  judged,  712-718,  1520. 

5.  The  most  powerful  of  all  moral  influences, 

719,  1734.  1735- 

6.  Its  transcendent  importance,  720k 

II.  REPUTATION,  72I,  722. 

CHARACTER.  CHRISTIAN 

1.  Its  preciousness,  723,  724. 

2.  How  it  is  formed,  725,  726,  2849-2855. 

3.  Must  be  positive,  727-730. 

4.  Should  be  conspicuous  for  truth  and  honour, 

731- 

5.  Should   be   complete,    732-736,    2545,    2546, 

4079. 

6.  How  it  is  to  he  judged,  737-742,  317-319,  348, 

800,    1832-1834,    2149,    3566,    3729,    3734, 
4318-4320,  4447,  4453,  4454. 

7.  The  final  test  in  ihis  world,  743. 

8.  The    standard    of  judgment  in    the   world    to 

come,  744. 

9.  In  its  first  stages  is  sometimes  unlovely,  745- 

747,  2466,  2479-2482. 
10.   How  it  is  to  be  sustained,  748. 

CHEERFULNESS. 

1.  Is  not  levity,  749. 

2.  Is  belter  than  mirth,  750- 

3.  Is  not  a  sign  of  weakness  of  character,  75I> 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


849 


4.  Its  helpfulness,  752-754. 

5.  Promotes  health,  755. 

6.  Is  a  Christian  duty,  756-762,  1083,  3038, 3039. 

CHILDHOOD. 
I.   Its  beauty,  763. 


Its  sacredness,  764.   '. 

Christ's  sympathy  for  childhood,  765. 


CHILDREN. 

1.  Why  they  are  sent  to  us,  766. 

2.  Necessary  to  complete  the  home,  767. 

3.  Their  preciousness,  76S. 

4.  Are  causes  of  anxiety  as  well  as  of  joy,  769- 

5.  Little  men  and  women,  770. 

6.  Preciousness  of  their  love,  771. 

7.  Their  happiness,  772. 

8.  Their  hopefulness,  773. 

9.  Their  selfishness,  774. 

10.  Their   susceptibility  to  impressions   of  every 

kind,  775,  776. 

11.  The   importance   and   power  of  parental   ex- 

ample, 777-779- 

12.  Their  claims  upon  us,  780. 

13.  Importance  of  early  training,  781-788,  3394. 

14.  Must  first  »f  all  be  taught   to   exercise   self- 

restraint,  789. 

15.  Must  be  taught  line  upon  line,  790. 

16.  Their  curiosity  is  not  to  be  repressed,  but  in- 

structed, 791. 

17.  Books  for  them  must  be  carefully  chosen,  792. 

18.  Must  be  instructed  in  the  Scriptures,  793. 

19.  Should  be  trained  to  attend  .public  worship,  794, 

20.  Are  not  incapable  of  faith,  795,  796,  1919. 

21.  Their  repentance  real,  797. 

22.  Should  be  taught  to  look  to  Jesus,  798,  799. 
25.   True  godliness  in  children  is  childlike,  80a 

24.  A  child's  faith  in  prayer,  801. 

25.  How  religion  is  to  be  commended  to  them,  802. 

26.  Their  religious  training  devolves  especiall)'  up- 

on their  parents,  803-S06. 

27.  Their    precocious    developments    are    to    be 

checked,  807. 

28.  Should  be  trained  to  industry,  80S,  809. 

29.  Learn  little  from  the  experience  of  their  parents, 

810. 

30.  Their  discipline,  811-815. 

31.  Their  correction,  816-821. 

32.  Should  be  trusted,  822. 

33.  Should  be  encouraged  in  virtuous  actions,  823, 

34.  Suffer  for  their  parents'  sins,  824. 

35.  A  reason  for  parental  solicitude  on  their  behalf, 

825. 

36.  Are  not  to  be  apprenticed  to  ungodly  masters, 

826. 

37.  Their  influence  for  good,  827,  828. 

38.  Their  death,  829-833,  468-470,  475. 

39.  Death  of  an  infidel's  child,  834, 

CHRIST, 
L  HIS  deity: — 

I,  The  doctrine  of  Ills  Deity  pervades  the  New 

Testament,  835. 
3.  The  doctrine  oi  flis  Deity  is  essential  to  our 

respect  for  Him,  836. 
3.  Proofs  of  His  Deity  : — 

(1.)   His  U7ichan!^eableness,  837. 

(2.)    The  slate iiumts  oj  the  Gospels  concerning 

Hi>/i,  838. 
(3.)  His  itifluence  on  human  affairs,  839. 
(4. )  His  demands  upon  the  soul,  840,  836. 


(5.)  His  influence  upon  the  soul,  841-843, 

3353- 

4.  Rendered  it  impossible  that  He  should  be 

holden  of  death,  844. 

5.  Entitles  Him  to  our  worship,  845, 

II.    HIS  INCARNATION  : — 

1.  Its  necessity,  846-848. 

2.  Its  nature,  849. 

3.  Veiled,  but  did   not  conceal   His  Divine 

glory,  850. 

4.  Incomprehensible,  but  rot  incredible,  851, 

852. 

5.  The  greatest  of  all  marvels,  853, 

6.  The  most  conspicuous  display  of  the  Divine 

goodness,  854. 

III.  THE     MANIFESTATION     OF     GOD,     855-857, 

3527. 

IV.  HIS  CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH,  858-863. 
V.    HIS  BAPTISM,  864. 

VI.  HIS  FORTY  days'  FAST,  S65. 

VII.  HIS  TEMPTATION,  866-S71,  4726. 

VIII.  MADE  PERFECT  BY  SUFFERING,  872,  873. 

IX.  HIS  LIFE  CANNOT  BE  WRITTEN,  874. 

X.  HIS  CHARACTERS  AND  TITLES  : — 

1.  The  Word  of  God,  875. 

2.  The  Consolation  of  Israel,  876, 

3.  1  he  Light  of  the  World,  877. 

4.  The  Sun  of  Righteousness,  878. 

5.  The  Door,  879-881. 

6.  The  Vine,  882. 

7.  The  Saviour,  883. 

8.  The  Giver  of  Peace,  884. 

9.  Our  Life,  885. 

XI.    VARIOUS  EMBLEMS  OF  CHRIST,  886, 
XII.    TYPICAL  REFERENCES  TO  CHRIST  }— 

I.  Jacob's  Ladder,  887. 
XIIL    HIS  OFFICES: — 

1.  Our  representative,  888. 

2.  Our  mediator,  889-S91,  375,  376. 

3.  Our  intercessor,  892,  893. 

4.  Our     example,      894-902,      1062,      1871, 

1872,    2499,    2502,     2849-2851,    3289, 
4461. 
XIV.    HOW  HIS   CHARACTER  IS  TO   BE   STUDIED, 
903,  904. 
XV.    HOW  HIS  CLAIMS  AP.E  TO  BE  TESTED,  905, 
906. 
XVI.    HIS  RELATION  TO  THE  LAW,  907,  908,  32 1 5, 

3216. 
XVII.    HIS  METHOD  OF  TEACHING,  gog-gil. 
XVIII.    HIS  SUFFERINGS  AND  DEATH.       [i'.f^  ATONE- 
MENT, 374-399-] 

1.  Were  necessary  for  our  salvation,  912. 

2.  His  death  was  a  voluntary  sacrifice  for  us, 

913- 

3.  The  benefits  of  His  death  are  inexhaus- 

tible, 914. 

4.  The  intensity  of  His  sufferings,  915. 

5.  His  sufferings    were    foreseen  by   Him, 

916. 

6.  How  they  were  endured,  917. 

7.  In  what  sense  the  Father  willed  the  death 

of  the  Son,  918. 

8.  In  what  sense  He  is  said  to  have  been 

exahed  on  account  of  His  having  under- 
gone death,  919. 

9.  Why  He  died  for  us,  920. 

10.   With  what  feelings  they  should   inspirt 
us,  921. 

XIX.    HIS  RESURRECTION,  922-925,  4354. 
XX.    HIS  ASCENSION,  926. 

3  H 


350 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


XXI.    THE  SAVIOUR  OF  ALL  MEN,  927. 
ICXII.    HIS     READINESS    TO     RECEIVE    SINNERS, 
928,   929. 

XXIII.  A   WAY  OF   ACCESS   TO   HIM   THAT  IS  AL- 

WAYS OPEN,  930. 

XXIV.  HIS  GRACE  : — 

1.  Our  need  of  it,  931-933. 

2.  Its  fulness  and  sufficiency,  934-94 1. 

3.  Its  freeness,  942,  943. 

4.  Is  inexhauslible,  944. 

5.  Is  always  to  be  trusted  in,  945, 
XXV.   HIS  LOVE  : — 

1.  Why  He  loves  us,  946,  947,  920. 

2.  Its  wonderful  manifestations,  948,  949. 

3.  Its  emblems,  950. 

XXVI.    HIS  TENDER  MERCY,  951. 
XXVII.    HIS   SYMPATHY  WITH    HIS    PEOPLE,  952- 

957- 

XXVIII.    HIS    COMPASSION    FOR     THE     TEMPTED, 
95S,  4789-4794. 
XXIX.    HIS  CARE  FOR  THE  WEAK,  959-96I. 
XXX.    HIS  DISINTERESTEDNESS,  962. 
XXXL    PRECIOUS  TO  THEM  THAT  BELIEVE,  963. 
XXXII.    THE  EVER-FAITHFUL  FRIEND,  964. 

XXXIII.  HOW  WE  CAN  SERVE  HIM,   965. 

XXXIV.  HIS  EYE  OUR  STIMULUS,  966. 
XXXV.    THE  POWER  OF  HIS  REPROOF,  967. 

XXXVI.    CHRIST  AND  THE  SOUL  : — 

1.  He  is  the  rest  and  stay  of  the  soul, 

9:.8-97i. 

2.  How  He  is  appropriated  by  the  soul, 

972. 

3.  How  He  dwells  in  the  soul,  973,  2840, 

2900,  2902. 

4.  How    He   manifests   Himself    to    the 

soul,  974,  975. 

XXXVII.    THE  COMPLETENESS  OF  HIS  LIFE,  976. 
XXXVIII.    HIS        SUPERIORITY      TO      ALL        OTHER 
TEACHERS,  977,  97S. 
XXXIX.    THE  ULTIMATE  TRIUMPHS  OF  HIS  KING- 
DOM,    979,      I166-II68,      2541,      4829, 
4S3I. 
XL.    HIS    SECOND     COMING,     9S0-9S2,     2936, 
3061,  3062. 
XLI.   HIS  GLORY  : — 

1.  It  is  now  inconceivable  by  us,  983. 

2.  The   disclosures  of  it    that    await  us, 

984. 
XLII.    HIS   DELIVERANCE  OF  THE  KINGDOM  TO 
THE  FATHER,  985. 

CHRISTIAN.  THE 

I.    CAN    A    MAN    KNOW   THAT    HE    IS  A  CHRIS- 
TIAN ?  9S6-989,  310. 
U.    HIS  CALLING. 

All  Christians  are  called  :— 

1.  To  be  saints,  990. 

2.  To  serve  God,  991. 

3.  To  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour, 

992. 

4.  To  be  fruitful  in  all  good  works,  993-995, 

2392-2397,  2483. 

5.  To  make  constant  progress  in  holiness,  996, 

997. 

6.  To  be  like  Christ,  998. 

ni.    THE  CHRISTIAN  AND  CHRIST  : — 

1.  His  union  with  Christ,  999,  looo,  882. 

2.  His  life  is  hid  with  Chiist  in  God,  looi, 

1002. 

3.  His  love  for  Christ,  1003,  1004. 

4.  His  dependence  on  Christ : — 


(l.)   Its  comprehensiveness,  1005,  748. 

(2.)  Its  continuity,  1006- 1009. 

(3. )  Is  the  ground  and  source  of  his  safety, 

1010-1012. 
{4.)   Takes  a-cvay  all  reason  for  pride,  1 013, 

1014. 
(5.)  Its  absoluteness   does   not  destroy   his 

moral  ai^ency,  1 01 5. 
(6.)  Evinces  the  hopeless  condition  of  the 

mere  moralist,  1016. 
5.   In  what  spirit  he  approaches  Christ,  lOir 

IV.    SOME     CHARACTERISTICS     OF     THE      CHRIS- 
'1  IAN  : — 

1.  He  has  his  supreme  delight  in  God,  1018. 

2.  The  glory  of  God  is  his  constant  aim,  1019- 

10^3. 

3.  He  is  fruitful  and  useful,  1024,  1025,  2392- 

2397,  2483. 

4.  He  resembles  Christ,  1026-1028. 

5'  He   has   his    "conversation    in    heaven," 
1029,  1030- 

V.    SOME  OF  HIS  DUTIES  : — 

1.  He  should  be  single  in  his  aim,  1031. 

2.  He  sliould  be  blameless  in  his  life,  1032, 

1033- 

3.  He   should  make  the  WTord   of  God  the 

rule  of  his  life,  1034. 

4.  He   must    be   crucified    to,    and   separate 

from,  the  world,  1035-1041. 

5.  He  must  make  an  open  profession  of  reli- 

gion, 1042,  3907-3976. 

6.  He  must  not  fear  to  be  singular,   1043, 

1044. 

7.  He  must  not  be  afraid  of  ridicule,  1045. 

8.  He  must  not  be  daunted  liy  the  difficulties 

of  the  Christian  life,  1046. 

9.  He  sliould  be  interested  in  the  diffusion  of 

the  Gospel,  1047. 

10.  He    must    reflect    the    Divine   character, 

1048. 

11.  He  must  seek  to  diffuse  happiness  around 

him,  1049,  1050. 

12.  He  must  live   in  a  state  of  continual  pre- 

paredness for  death,  105 1,  1052. 

HIS  DISCOURAGEMENTS,    IO53. 
HIS  IMPERFECTIONS,    I054-IO56,   23I3. 
VIII.    HIS  CORRUPTIONS,   IO57,    IO58. 
IX.    HIS  CONFLICTS,    IO59-IO62,  2457,2459,3398, 

3949-3951- 
HIS  CONSOLATIONS  : — 

1.  He  is  sure  of  all   needful   things,    1063, 
1064. 

2.  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  he  shall  be, 
1065. 

3.  Where  sin  abounds,  there  shall  grace  much 
more  abound,  1066-1068. 

4.  Ultimately  he  shall  be  entirely  like  Christ, 
1069-107 1. 

HIS     RENEWAL     IN     THE     DIVINE    IMAGE, 

1072. 
HIS    DIGNITY     AND    WEALTH,     IO73-IO76, 

2902. 
IS  THE  NOBLEST  WORK  OF  GOD,   IO77, 
IS  LORD  OF  THE  WORLD,    IO78. 
HIS     REAL    WORTH       IS      UNAFFECTED     BY 
ADVERSE  CIRCUMSTANCES,   IO79. 
XVI.    IS  OF  ALL    MEN  THE  HAPPIEST,   I08O-I084, 
4161-4163. 
XVII.    THE  COMFORT  OF  SINCERITY,    I085,    I086. 
XVIII.    HIS  KNOWLEDGE  OF  DIVINE  THINGS,   I087. 
XIX.    IS  CERTAIN  TO  COMMAND  RESPECT,   I0S8. 


VI. 

VII. 


X. 


XI. 
XII. 

xin. 

XIV. 
XV. 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


851 


ICX.    HIS  INFLUENCE  FOR  GOOD,   I089-I095. 
XXI.    HIS   RELATION   TO  THE   LAW,   IO96,   IO97, 

3160. 
XXII.    HIS  SAFETY,    IO98,   1099,4056,4058,4061. 

XXIII.  AN  EXILE,    1 100,    IIOI. 

XXIV.  A  PILGRIM,    II02. 

XXV.    HIS  ASPIRATIONS,    1103,1104. 
XXVI.    THE    PRIZE    THAT    IS    SET    BEFORE    HIM, 
1 105. 
XXVII.    THE  TRIUMPH  THAT  AWAITS  HIM,   II06. 
XXVIIL    THE  WISDOM  OF  HIS  CHOICE,    I IO7,    II08. 
XXIX.    HIS  DEATH,   IIO9-IIII,    IO76. 
XXX.    HIS     FUTURE    PERFECTNESS    AND    GLORY, 

1 1 12-1 1 19,  3373,  3416,  3417,  3667,  4335. 

4346. 

CHRISTIANITY. 

1.  The   last   and    most   glorious  of    the   Divine 

revelations,  1120,  1 121. 

2.  Indisputable  facts  concerning  it : — 
(i.)  It  is  a  system  oj  wonders,  1 122. 

(2.)  As  a  system  of  morality  it  is  unsurpassed, 

I123. 
(3.)  No  other  religion   does   more   to  promote 

virtue  and  the  national  welfare,  1 1 24- 

1128. 
(4.)  Its  effects   upon  society  have  been   highly 

beneficial,  I ;  29,   1 1 30. 
(5.)  It  blesses  and  ennobles  the  poor,  I131,  1084, 

41^0. 
(6.)   The  effect  of  universal  obedience  to  it  -tvoiild 

be    an    unexampled    state    of  national 

happiness,  1 132. 
(7.)  H  delivers  those  who  accept  it  from  the 

fear  0/  death,  1 1  ;;,^. 

3.  How  difficult  it  is  for  us  to  appreciate  its  bless- 

ings, 1 1 34. 

4.  The  extent  of   its   benefits  is  not  yet  discer- 

nible, 1 135. 

5.  Is  a  religion  of  principles,  1 136. 

6.  Its  distinctive  doctrine,  1137. 

7.  Challenges  inquiry,  1 138. 

8    Will  bear  investigation,  1139. 
9.   Many   of  its  doctrines  are  necessarily  myste- 
rious, 1 140. 

10.  Can  be  j'ldged  rightly  only  from  within,  1141. 

11.  How  assurance  of  its  irutli  is  to  be  attained, 

1 142,  1 143. 

12.  The  experience  of  Christians  is  the  best   evi- 

dence that  Christianity  is  from  God,  1144- 
1148. 

13.  Importance  of  a  study  of  its  evidences,  1 149. 

14.  What  is  meant  by  a  "candid"  consideration 

of  its  evidences,  1 1 50. 

15.  Its    universal    adaptation,    I151,     2420-2424, 

2427. 

16.  Two  arguments  for  its  truth,  1 152 
17    Its  prohibition  of  pleasure,  II53- 

18.  Why  it  is  hated,  1 1 54. 

19.  The  reasonableness  of  its  requirements,  1I5S> 

1 156, 

20.  Can  only  be  learned  by  practice,  1 157. 
ai.   Should  govern  our  whole  life,  I158. 
82.   Its  motive  power,  1 1 59. 

23.  Is  independent  of  human  help,  I160. 

24.  Its  progress,  1161,  1162. 

25.  The  great  obstacle  to  its  progress,  1163,1164. 

26.  Is  indestructible,  1 165. 

27.  Its  ultimate  triumphs,  1166-1168,979,  2541, 

4829,  4S31. 

28.  How  its  triumph  is  to  be  .<:ecured,  1169. 


CHURCH.  THE 

I.    IS  BEl,OVED  OF  GOD,   II70. 

II.    EMBRACES    ALL    BELIEVERS,  AND    BELIEVEM 
ONLY.   I  I7I-II77. 

III,  ALL  ITS  MEMBERS  ARE  IMPERFECT,    11 78. 

IV.  THOUGH    IT   CONTAINS    MANY    UNHOLY   PER- 

SONS,  YET   EVEN   THE   VISIBLE  CHURCH  IS 
HOLY,    1179-1183. 
V.    HER  MISSION,   II84-I186. 

VI.    THE  CHURCH  IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES,   I187, 
Vn,    THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  lUBLE.   IIS8. 
Vin.    HER    AUTHORITY    TO    ORDAIN    CEREMONIES, 
1 1 89, 
IX.    HER  UNITY  : — 

1.  In  what  it  consists,  II90-1193, 

2.  Uniformity  is  not  essential  to  unity,  II94- 

1196. 

3.  Its  advantages,  I197,  1 198. 

4.  How  it  is  10  be  attained,  1199-1202. 

5.  Love  to  Christ  the  sole  and  sufficient  bond 

of  unity,  1203, 

6.  Falsely  claimed  by  the  Church  of  Rome, 

1204, 

7.  A  call  to  union,  1205, 

X.    UNIFORMITY  : — 

1.  Is  not  supremely  important,  1206. 

2.  Does  not  ensure  unity,  1207. 

3.  Is  not  essential,   120S, 

4.  Is  impossible  and  undesirable,  1209,  1210, 

2193-221 1, 

5.  The  absuidity  and  mischievousness  of  in- 

sisting on  It,  121 1-!  214, 

XI.    IMPORTANCE   OF   MAINTAINING   DUE  ORDER, 
I215-I217. 
XII.    DISSENSIONS  IN  THE  CHURCH  : — 

1,  Are  often  due  to  trivial  cause-:,  12 iS. 

2,  Are  always  unreasonable,  1219-1224. 

3,  Are    a    hindrance   to   the  progress  of  the 

Gospel,  1225,  2450. 

4,  Enfeeble  and  imperil   the  Church,    1226- 

1228. 

5,  Are  a  cause  of  rejoicing  to  the  enemies  of 

the  truth,  1229. 

6,  Are  offensive  to  God,  1230, 

XIII.  ITS  DISCIPLINE  :  — 

1.  Must  be  impartial,  1 231. 

2,  Importanceof  strictly  maintaining  it,  1232, 

3314, 

XIV.  DUTIES    OF    ITS    MEMBERS    TOWARDS    EACH 

OTHER,   I233-I236, 
XV.    THE  PRIMITIVE  CHURCH  : — 

1.  The  contrast  between  it   and   the   pagan 

world,  1237. 

2.  Contrasts    between   the  primitive  Church 

and  our  own,  1238- 1240. 

XVI.    HER   DEPENDENCE   ON    DIVINE    AID,   I24I- 

1243- 
XVII.    HER  TKOUBI.es  DIVINELY  SENT  FOR  GOOD, 
I  244-1 245. 
XVill,    HER  SAFETY,    I246-I25I,   2449, 

COMFORT. 

1.  Its  sources,  1252,  1253. 

2.  How  God  administers  it,  1254-1256. 

3.  Exceeds  our  distresses,  1257. 

4.  Its  source  to  be  tested,  1258,  1259, 

5.  Why  it  is  sometimes  withheld,  1260,  I26t. 

6.  Is  not  the  measure  of  grace,  1262-1265. 

7.  Not  to  be  supremely  desired,  1266. 

8.  Not  to  be  too  earnestly  craved,  1267,  352. 


S^2 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


9.  Not   ajways   attained    at    the   outset    of    the 

Christian  life,  1268,  1269. 
ro.   How  it  is  to  be  attained,   1270-1275,  3499- 
3501,  4474. 

II.  Various   consolations    for    feeble   and    fearful 

believers,     1276-12S5,    961,     1995,     1997- 
2003,  2513-2516,  2527,  2633,  3366,  4475. 

CONSCIENCE. 

I.    DEFINED,   1286-1289. 
II.    IS  MORE  THAN  OPINION,    I29O, 

III.  ITS  FUNCTIONS  : — 

1.  It  is  designed  to  be  our  guide  and  monitor 

through  life,  1291-1294. 

2.  It  records  our  actions  now,  1295-1297. 

3.  It  will  witness  against  us  at  the  last,  1298. 

IV.    HOW    FAR    ITS    DECISIONS    ARE    AUTHORITA- 
TIVE,   1299. 
V.    NOT  AN  INFALLIBLE  GUIDE,   I3OO-I307,  535, 

536,   1522. 
VI.    NEVERTHELESS  MUST  BE  STRICTLY  HEEDED, 

I30S-I312. 
VII.    THE  DANGER  OF  NEGLECTING  IT,   I3I3-I3IS- 
VIIU    SHOULD  BE  CARHFULLY  PROTECTED,    I316. 
IX.    WORKS  DIFFERENTLY,  BUT  WITH   THE  SAME 
RESULT,   IN  DIFFERENT  MEN,    I317,    I318. 
X.    ITS  POWER,    13 19,    1320,  4941. 
XI.    TRUE  PEACE  OF  CONS    lENCE  ; — 

1.  Its   only  source,    1321-1324,  3350,  3645, 

3646. 

2.  A  life-long  blessing,  1325. 

3.  A  reason  for  thanksgiving,  1326. 

XII.    FALSE  PEACE  OF  CONSCIENCE  : — 

1.  From  what  it  arises,  1327,  2673. 

2.  Its  folly,  132S. 

3.  Deceptive  and  dangerous,  1329,  1330. 

4.  Imperfect  and  insecure,  1331,  1332. 

5.  Satan's  care  not  to  disturb  it,  1333. 

Xin.    THE  EFFECTS  OF  AN  AWAKENED  CONSCIENCE, 

1334-1341- 
XIV.    THE  DIFFICULTY  OF  SATISFYING  IT,    I342. 
XV.    IS    CAPAliLE     OF     IMMENSE     IMPROVEMENT, 

1343-1345- 
XVI.    TENDERNESS  OF  CONSCIENCE,  I346,   I347. 

CONTENTMENT. 

1.  Is  a  characteristic  of  the  Christian,  1348. 

2.  The  example  of  St.  Paul,  1349. 

3.  Is  peculiar  to  the  cliildien  ol  God,  1350. 

4.  From  what  it  arises,  1351. 

5.  How  it  lb  to   be  attained,    1352-1354,   1711- 

17 16,  171Q,  49f^9. 

6.  Reasons  for  contentment,  I35S~I357« 

7.  Its  wisdom,  £358-1362,  1687. 

8.  Its  blessedness,  1363-1366. 

CONTROVERSY. 

1.  Is  often  foolish  and  unprofitable,   1367-1371, 

17S5-1792,  3095. 

2.  Is  sometimes  necessary,  1372,  1373. 

3.  Is  better  than  ignorant  indifference,  1374. 

4.  Its  advantages,  1375,  1376. 

5.  Should  not  be  engaged  in  rashly,  1377. 

fe.   In  what  spirit  it   is  to  be  conducted,    1378- 
1380. 

7.  Heal  inseparable  from  it,  1381. 

8.  Whose    judgments    are    to    be   regarded    as 

authoritative,  1382,  1383. 

9.  The  ignoiant  are  the  mnst  confident,  1384. 
ta   Is  not  coutined  to  Christians,  1385-1387. 


1 1.  Absurdity  of  the  interference  of  the  ungodly  in 

religious  controversies,  1388. 

12.  Received  truths  not  to   be   subjected  to  ooc- 

troversy,  1389. 

13.  Its  causes,   1 390. 

14.  \\  hat  would  end  it,  1391. 

CONVERSION.    \See  also  regeneration,  4063- 
4128,  and  repentance,  4206-4273.] 

I.    in  WHAT  IT  CONSISTS,    I392-I395. 
II.    IS  POSSIBLE,    1396. 

III.  HOW  IT  IS  EFFECTED.      \See  clso  \ZZ<)-^1\\ 

1.  Not  by  eloquence,  1397. 

2.  Not  by  argument,  1398. 

3.  Not  by  intellectual  power,  1399. 

4.  But  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  1400-1405. 

5.  Who  works  without  impairing  the  freedom 

of  the  human  will,  I406,  1407. 

IV.  HINDRANCES     TO    CONVERSION,     I408,    I409, 

4549- 
V.    THE    EXPERIENCE    OF    THE     CONVERTED    IS 

VARIED  : 

1.  In   accordance    with    their    constitutiona' 

tendencies  and  previous  life,  1410,  1411. 

2.  As  to  the  time  of  their  conversion,  141 2, 

1413- 

3.  As  to  the  means  employed  to  effect  their 

conversion,  1414,  1415. 

4.  As  to  the  emotions  they  experience,  1416- 

1418. 

5.  As  to  the  definiieness  with  which  they  can 

trace  the  history  and   fix  the  period  of 
their  conversion,  1419-1429. 

VL    PROOFS     OF     ITS     REALITY.      {Set    olso   3938- 
3976,  4259-4273.] 

1.  A   radical  and  thorough  change  of  heart, 

1430,  1431,  413. 

2.  Thankful  acknowledgment  of  God's  grace 

and  mercy,  1432. 

3.  Hatred  of  sin,  I433. 

4.  Holiness  of  life,  1434,  800,  1074. 

5.  Grouth  in  grace,   1435-1437,  2473-2488, 

2519,  2527. 

VII.    NOT  TO  BE  DELAYED.      [.9^1?  also  4232-4258.] 

1.  Because    instant   conversion    is   our   duty, 

1438,  1439. 

2.  Because  our  position  is  so  perilous,  1440- 

1443- 

3.  Because  life  is  so  uncertain,  I444. 

4.  Becau'-e  the  work  will  never  be  less  diffi- 

cult, 1445. 

5.  Because   delay    multiplies   its    diflSculties, 

1446-1455.  _ 

6.  Because  delay  is  so  foolish,  1456. 

7.  Because  late  conversions  are  so  rare,  1457, 

1458. 

8.  Because  the  reality  of  late  conversions  is 

always  doubtful,  1459-1461. 

VIII.  IN  WHAT  SENSE  IT  IS  INSTANTANEOUS,  I462. 

IX.  MUST  BE  THOROUGH,    I463-I465. 

X.  IS  ONLY  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  CHRISTIAy 

LIFE,    I466-I468,  2479,  2482. 

XL  ITS  RESULTS,    I469,  3046. 

XII.  WHY  CONVERSIONS  ARE  SO  RARE,  I47O. 

XIII.  HISTORY  OF  A  CONVERSION,    I47I. 

CONVICTION. 

1.  Its  nature,  1472. 

2.  The  commencement  of  the  Divine  life  in  tha 

soul,  1473,  1474- 

3.  Its  design,  1475,  1476,  1849. 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


853 


^   How  it  is  effected,  I477,  1478. 

5.  Should   instantly  lead   to  action,    1479-I4S2, 

4636. 

6.  Should  lead  us  to  Christ,  1483,  1484, 

7.  Saving  conviction  is  tlioiouyh,  1485-1487. 

8.  Abortive  convictions,  1488. 

9.  The  duty  of  thube  who  are  under  conviction, 

1489. 
10.  Is  deepened  by  every  attempt  to  obey  the  law 
of  God,  1490. 

CREATION.  THE 

1.  Is  at  once  a  proof  of  the  being,  and  a  revela- 

tion of  the  cliaracter,  of  God,  1491-I494. 

2.  Its  revelation  of  God  is  necessarily  imperfect, 

1495-1497. 

3.  It  is  fill  very  good,  1 498-1 501. 

4.  Its  inequalities  are  not   imperfections,   1 502, 

1503- 

5.  In  what  spirit  it  is  to  be  studied,  1504-1506. 

6.  "Lo,  these   are  pans  of  His  ways  ;  but  how 

little  a  portion  is  heard  ol  Him  ! "  1507. 

CURIOSITY. 

1.  Its  folly,  1508-1511. 

2.  Its  perilousness,  1512,  1513. 

3.  Its  injuriousness,   1514-1516, 

4.  lu  sinfulness,  15 17,  15 18. 

CUSTOM. 

1.  Defined,  1519. 

2.  Reveals  charncter,  1520. 

3.  Not  the  standard  of  right,  1521,  1522,  4925. 

4.  No  excuse  for  sin,  1523,  1526. 

5.  Hardens  men  in  sin,  1527.  4534-4539.  4545- 

6.  Its  blinding  influence,  1528,  1529. 

7.  Its  power  grows  continually,  1530. 

8.  Wrong  customs  should  therefore   be  broken 

abruptly,  1531. 

9.  Secret  of  the  power  of  social  customs,  1 532. 

10.  Innocent  customs  should  be  complied  with, 

1533- 

DEATH. 

I.    IN  RELATION  TO  ALL  MANICIND:- 

1.  Its  nature,  1534,  1535. 

2.  It  is  our  common  ili)um,  1536,  1537. 

3.  It  is  inevitable,  153S. 

4.  It  is  a  theme  of  universal  interest,  1539. 

5.  Its  nearness,  1 540- 1542,  4239. 

6.  Its  period  is  unccriain,  1543,  3274,  3568. 

7.  It  steals  upon  us  without  warning,  1544- 

1546. 

8.  We  die  daily,  1547. 

9.  Its  tenors,  154S,  1549. 

10.  Its  influence,  1550. 

11.  Its  disclosures  of  character,    1551,    1552, 

1557,  1626. 

12  Men  die  as  they  live,  1553. 

13  How  eaidly  the  fear  of  it  is  overmastered, 

1554.  1550- 

14  Is  seldom  realised,  1557. 

15  Is  usually  disregarded,  1558,    1559,   2768, 

3060.  3063,  4002. 

16.  We  should  remember  that  we  are  to  die, 

1560. 

17.  Reminders  of  death,  1561. 

18.  Should  be  prepared  for,  1 562-1 566. 

n.    IN  RELATION  TO  THE  IMPENITENT  : — 

1.  To  them  it  is  unwelcome,  1567,  1568. 
X.  To  them  it  is  ruin,  1569, 


III.    IN  RELATION  TO  THE  PEOPLE  OF  GOD  ! 

1.  Even  the  good  recoil  from  it,  1570. 

2.  Yet  by  them  it  i->  to  be  desired  rather  than 

feared,  157 1-1578. 

3.  Notwithstanding    that    even    to    them  the 

hour  of  death  is  frequently  a  season  of 
sore  temptation,  1579,  1580. 

4.  Unwillingness  to  die  is  an  evidence  of  de- 

fective faith  and  love,  1581-1583,  469. 

5.  How    the    fear   of  it    is   to  be  overcuuie, 

1 584- 1 589. 

6.  The  secret  of  peace  in  death,  1590-1593. 

7.  Grandeur  of  the  Christian's  death,  1594. 

8.  In  death  the  saints  are  perfected,   1595- 

1600. 

9.  How  the  early  Christians  regarded  it,  i6or. 

10.  Is  s:ill  longed  for  by  holy  men,  1602,  1603, 

2558,2559. 

11.  Is  not  to  be  impatiently   desired,    1604- 

1606. 

12.  Sudden  death,  1607-1609. 

13.  Its    revelations,    1610,    1551-1553,    ISS7, 

1626,  3291-3293,  5023-5025. 

rV.    ENCOURAGEMENTS  I(JK  THE  FEAUFUL: 

1.  Chri.st  has  abolished  death,  1611-1613. 

2.  Death  is  God's  angel,  1614. 

3.  It  touches  the  body  only,  1615-1619. 

4.  Even  the  body  shall  rise  again,  1620-1622. 

5.  Death  is  our   deliverance  from    bondage, 

1623-1628. 

6.  Death    is   the   end ,  of  all   our  cares  and 

sorrows,  1629,  216. 

7.  Death  transfo;ms  the  future,  1630. 

8.  Death  conducts  us  to  true  joy,  1631,  1632, 

1076,  1109-1111,  I133. 

9.  Death  is  the  day  of  our  espousals,  1633. 

10.  Death  brings  us  into  the  presence  of  Christ, 

and  into  the  best  society,  1634,  1635. 

11.  To  die  is  to  sleep  in  Jesus,  1636. 

12.  To  die  is  to  go  home,  1637- 1639. 

13.  The  way  home  is  not  an  untried  one,  1640. 

14.  Christ  will  be  with  us  all  the  way,  1641. 

15.  He  who  has  given  us  grace  to  live  will  give 

us  grace  to  die,  1642,  1643. 

DESERTION. 

1.  Its  cause,  1644. 

2.  Its  design,  1645-1648. 

3.  Not  to  be  hastily  assumed,  1649-1654,  200. 

4.  Ten  iblencss  of  the  calamity,  1655. 

5.  Encouragements  for  thede^ponding,  1656,1657. 

6.  The  only  consolation,  1658,   1659. 

DEVIL.  THE  [6>^rt/j(7  TEMPTATION,  4668-4808.] 

1.  His  existence  not  incredible,  1660,  1661. 

2.  The  ]3rince  of  the  power  of  the  air,  1662. 

3.  In  what  sense  he  is  "  the  god  of  this  world," 

1663. 

4.  Is  neither  omnipresent  nor  omniscient,  1664. 

5.  His  discernment  of  our  thoughts,  1665* 

6.  Our  adversary,  1666. 

7.  Our  accuser,  1667. 

8.  His  craft,  1668-1672. 

9.  His  diligence,  1673,  1674. 

10.  How  he  exercises  his  sway,  1675. 

11.  Why  his  suggestions  are  undetected,  1676, 

12.  Is  a  hard  master,  1677. 

13.  Is  not  to  be  overcome  by  mere  words,  167& 

14.  Has  no  power  to  force  us  to  sin,  167Q. 


854 


INDEX  QF  ARRANGEMENT. 


DISCONTENT. 

I.    ITS  FREQUENCY,    I680. 
II.    ITS  CAUSES  : — 

1.  The  perversion  of  our  nature,  l68i,  1682. 

2.  Our  lack  of  grace,  1683. 

3.  Spiritual  sloth,  1684. 

4.  Heedlessness  of  the  blessings  of  our  lot, 

1685,  16S6. 

5.  Forgetlulness  of  the  greater  trials  that  be- 

fall others,  16S7. 

m.    ITS  UNREASONABLENESS  : — 

1.   This  life  is  a  journey,  1688. 
i.   This  life  is  a  voyage,  1689. 

3.  This  life  is  a  warfare,  1690. 

4.  Our  trials  bear  no  proportion  to  our  com- 

forts, 1 69 1, 1692. 

5.  Former    prosperity    is   a    reason,    not    for 

murmuring,   but    for    thankful    remem- 
brance, 1693. 

6.  We  profess  to  be  heirs  of  God,  1694,  1695. 
IV     ITS  FOLLY  : — 

1.  It  does  nothing   to   remove  our  troubles, 

1696,  1697. 

2.  It  does  much  to  aggravate  them,  1698-1701. 

V.  ITS  HUKTFULNESS,    I7O2,   I7O3. 

VI.  MS  MISKKY,    1704. 

VII.  ITS  SIIAMEFUI.NESS,    I705,    I706. 

VIII.  ITS  SINFULNESS,    I7O7-I7IO. 

IX.  ris  CURE  : — 

1.  It  is  not  to  be  wrought  by  changes  in  our 

circumstances,  17  1 1. 

2.  Nor  by  additions  to  our  possessions,  1712- 

1714. 

3.  But    by  the   grace  of  God    in   the    heart, 

cleansing  it  Irom  inordinate  desires,  1715 
-1717. 

4.  By  the  increase  of  self-knov;ledge,  1718. 

5.  By    niediiation    upon    wli;\t    is    consonant 

with  our  condition  in  tliis  life,   1719. 

6.  By  a  discovery  of  ihe  interdependency  of 

Divine  providences,  1720. 

DOING  GOOD. 

U    THE  DUrV  OF  EVERY  CHRISTIAN,   I72I,   1722, 
2205-2207. 
II.    POSSIBLE  TO  EVERY  ONE,    1723-1727,4324. 
III.     IHE  I'OWER  FOR  GOOD  THAT  LIES  LATENT  IN 

EVERY  CHUKCH,  I728. 
IV.    DEMANDS  SELF-DENIAL,   I729. 
V.    DIFFICULTIES  ARE  NOT    TO  DETER  US,    I73O. 
VI.    OPPORTUNITIES     FOR     DOING    GOOD    SHOULD 
BE  EAC.ERLV  SEIZED,   I73I. 
VII.    MODES  (JF  DOING  GOOD,    1732. 
VIII.    THE   HIGHEST  FORM  OF  DOING  GOOD,    1 733. 
IX.    THE   SUPREME    QUALIFICATION     FOR    DOING 

GOOI>,    1734,   1735. 
X.    ITS  REV^^ARDS  : — 

1.  Personal  invigoration   and  comfort,  1736, 

1737- 

2.  Trxie  and  unexpected  happiness,  1 738-1743. 

3.  Trtie  glory,  1744,  1745. 

4.  The  approval  oj  Christ,  1746. 

EDUCATION. 

1.  Its  nature,  1747-1749. 

2.  Its  object,   1750-I752. 

3.  Its  necessity,  1753-I759' 

4.  Sliould  begin  early,  1760,  1761. 

5.  Cannot  be  imposed  on  any  one,  1762,  I763» 

6.  Some  minds  are  incapable  of  it,  1764. 

7.  Mistakes  in  education,  1 765-1767. 


8.  Uniformity  is  impossible,  1768,  1^69. 

9.  Public  schools,  1770. 
10.   Its  results,  1771-1775. 

ELECTION. 

1.  Its  cause  and  method,  1776-1778. 

2.  Its  desij;n,   1779. 

3.  Furnishes  no  argument  for  continuance  in  sin, 

1780,  1781. 

4.  No  leason  for  rejecting  God's  offers  of  mercy, 

1782-1784. 

5.  Does  not  discharge  us  from  the  obligation 

use  the  appointed  means,  1 785-1 792. 

6.  Speculations  concerning    it    are    unwise    and 

foolish,  1793-1797. 

7.  How  assurance  ol  personal  election  is  to  be 

attained,  1797-1S02. 

ERROR. 

1.  Its  source,  1803. 

2.  Is  worse  than  ignorance,  1804,  1805. 

3.  When  it  is  most  dangerous,  1806,   1807. 

4.  How  it  gains  a  footing  in  the  world,  180& 

5.  How  it  is  diffused,  iSr9-iSi3. 

6.  The  sinfulness  of  diffusing  it,   1814, 

7.  Our  liability  to  it,  1S15,   1816. 

8.  Who  are  perverted  by  it,   1S17,  1818. 

9.  The  evil  of  persistence  in  it,  1819. 

10.  How  it  is  to-be  overthrown,  1820,  1821. 

11.  Error,  schism,  and  heresy,  1S22,  1823. 

12.  How  it  is  to  be  distinguished  from  truth,  1824. 

13.  Is  not  to  be  tt)lerated,  1825. 

14.  The  duty   of  public  teachers  in  regard  to  it, 

1826,  1S27. 

15.  Ultimately  advances  the  truth,  1828. 

EVIL  THOUGHTS. 

1.  Their  sinfulness,  1829-1831. 

2.  Usually  indicate  character,  1832. 

3.  But  often  are  interjected  by  Satan,  1833,  1834. 

4.  Are  not  as  guilty  as  evil  actions,  1835. 

5.  Yet  they  are  powerful  and  disastrous  in  their 

influence,  1836-1842. 

6.  How  they  are  to  be  dealt  with,  1843-1847. 

7.  Their  cure,  1848,  1849. 

EXAMPLE. 

1.  Is  better  than  precept,  1850-1853. 

2.  Its  power  for  good,  1854-1861. 

3.  Its  power  for  evil,  1862-1865. 

4.  Is  no  rule  of  life  or  excuse  for  sin,  1866. 

5.  Which  to  follow,  1867-1870. 

6.  Importance  and  value  of  the  human  examples 

set  before  us  in  Scripture,  1871,  1872. 

FAITH. 

I.    ITS   NATURE: — 

1.  It  is  confidence  in  truth,  1873. 

2.  It  is  confidence  in  the  ability  of  persons, 

1874. 

3.  It    is   confidence  in   the  character  of  per- 

sons, 1875,  1876,  2174. 

4.  It  is  trust  in  the  testimony  of  others,  1875^ 

1879,  2173-2175. 

5.  It  is  trust  in  God,  1880,  1881. 

II.    ITS    NECESSITY  : — 

1.  To    the    existence   of  society,    and    to   all 

forms  of  human  activity  and  excellence, 
1882-1 S87. 

2.  To  our  happiness  here  and  now,  i88Sc 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


8Sj 


3.  To  enable  us  to  please  God,  18S9,  3565, 
3569. 

m,    ITS   PRECIOUSNESS: — 

1.  By  it  we  are  justified,  1890. 

2.  By  it  we  are  grafied  into  Christ,  1891. 

3.  By  it  our  final  salvation  is  ensured,  1892. 

4.  It  brings  peace,  1893,  1S94. 

5.  Of  all  other  graces,  it  is  the  germ  and 

animating  power,  1895- 1900. 

6.  Without  it  no  other  grace  is  acceptable 

to  God,  1 90 1. 

7.  It  is  the  faculty  whereby  we  realise  un- 

seen things,  1902- 1 904. 

8.  By  it  we  are  enabled    to  triumph  over 

doubts,  1905-1907. 

9.  It  enal)le3  us  to  exercise  a  wise  foresight, 

1908. 

10.  It  enables  us  to  walk  safely,  1909. 

11.  It  opens  to  us  the  promises,  19 10. 

12.  It    gives  calmness   in  trial  and  danger, 

1911-1919. 

13.  It  is  our  safeguard  in  temptation,  1920- 

1922. 

14.  It  saves  us  from  despair,  1923-1926. 

15.  It  gives  pre  valency  to  prayer,  1927,3827- 

38^0. 

16.  It  stimulates  to  endeavour,  1928. 

17.  It  brings  deliverance,   1929. 

18.  It  is  the  secret  of  all  heroic  enterprises, 

1930-  '931- 

19.  It  ennobles  the  whole  life,  1932,  1933. 

20.  It  gives  calmness  in  death,  1934,  1253. 
IV.  SAVING    kaith: — 

1.  Its  nature,  1935-1943. 

2.  Its  object,  1944-1951. 

3.  Is  necessarily  personal,  1952-1956. 

4.  How  it  is  exercised,  1957-1968. 

5.  How  it  justifies  and  saves,  1969-197'. 

6.  In   what   sense  it    is    the   gilt  of  God, 

1976,  1977. 

V.    PROOFS   OF   ITS    REALITY  : — 

1.  Holiness  of  heart  and  life,  1978- 1986. 

2.  Humility,  19S7-1989. 
VI.  weak:  i-AiTii  : — 

1.  May  be  tiue  faith,  1990-1996,  1283. 

2.  Is  sufficient  to  save,  1997-2003. 

3.  Though  weak,  is  of  all  things  most  pre- 

cious, 2004. 

4.  There  may  be  faith  where  there  is  ao 

assurance,  2005. 

5.  How  its  strength  may  t>e  measured,  2006. 

VII.    MUST    BE   STRENGTHENED: — 

1.  That  we  may  not  be  overcome  by  temp- 

tation, 2007-2009. 

2.  That  all  our  other  graces  may  be  caused 

to  flourish,  2011-2013. 

3.  That  our  comforts  may  be  increased  and 

our  peace  perfected.  2014-2017. 

4.  How   it   is   to   be    strengiiiened,    2018, 

2019. 

VIII.    ITS     RELATIONS     TO     OTHER     FACULTIES, 
EMOTIONS,    AND   GRACES: — 

1.  Sight,  2020,  202I. 

2.  Reason,  2022-2024. 

3.  Fear: — 

(l.)    There  may  be  fear  where  there  is  no 

faith,  2025-2027. 
(2.)  But  faith  is  usually  preceded  by  fear, 
2028,  2029. 
4^  Repentance,  2030-2034. 
j.  Holiness,  2035. 


6.  Faith  and  love,  2036-2039,  3328. 

7.  Faith,  hope,  and  love,  2040,  2041,  2910, 

IX.    IN   WHAT  SENSE  IT  IS  TO  CEASE,  2O42. 

FEAR. 

I.  ITS  USES: — 

1.  The  fear  of  God  delivers  us  from  the  fear  of 

man,  2043,  2044. 

2.  It  restiains  us  Irum  sin,  2045. 

3.  It  leads  to  self-examination,  2046. 

4.  It  keeps  us  humble,  2047-2049. 

II.  ITS  abuses: — 

1.  Morbid  fear  enfeebles  the  soul,  2050-205*. 

2.  It  paralyses  effort,  2053-2054,  2368. 

3.  Leads  to  superstition,  2055,  2056. 

4.  Ensures  failure,  2057,  2058. 

IIL    IS    MERELY    REPRESSIVE    IN    ITS    INFLUENCE, 

2059,   2060,  4019,  4086,  40S7. 
IV.    DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  LEGAL  AND  EVANGB- 

LICAL  FEAR,  206l. 
V.    SLAVISH  AND  FILIAL  FEAR,  2o62,  2063. 

FEELING. 

1.  Is  necessarily  variable,  2064-2067,  975,  3049, 

3050,  4 1 88-4 1 90. 

2.  The   connection    between   faith    and    feeling, 

2068. 

3.  Undue  importance  is  not  to  be  attached  to  it, 

2069-2071,  953,  4259-4263,  4266,  4272. 

4.  Not  the  measure  of  Goil's  love  lor  us,  2072. 

5.  It  is  neither    ]iossible    nor    desiiaMe    that   it 

sliould  be  always  intense,  2073,  2074. 

6.  Should   not   be   separated   from  action,  2075, 

2076. 

FORMS  AND  CEREMONIES. 

1.  Their  necessity  and  value,  2077-2079. 

2.  How   their    value    is    to   be  estimated,  2080 

2083. 

3.  Ancient  forms  are  not  to  be  needlessly  revived 

20S4. 

4.  Ancient  forms  are  not  necessarily  serviceable 

now,  2085. 

5.  Are   powerless   to   revive  a   declining    faith 

20S6. 

6.  A  multiplication    of    forms  is  hostile  to  reli- 

gion, 20S7-  2089. 

7.  Scripture  authority  is  not  to  be  demanded   for 

every  minute  detail  of  ecclesiastical  arrange- 
ment, 2090. 

8.  The  (oily  of  an  indiscriminating  zeal  concern- 

ing them,  2091. 

9.  Are  not  to  be  enforced  by  penalties,  2092. 

FRIENDSHIP. 

1.  Defined,  2093. 

2.  Its  pleasures  and  advantages,  2094-2105. 

3.  True  friendship  is  rate,  2106-2112. 

4.  True  and  false  frienil.ship,  2113,  21 14. 

5.  Should  neither  be  formed  hastily  nor  ca-  ried 

to  excess,  2115-2122. 

6.  Should  be  formed  only  with  the  good,  2123- 

2130,  4984. 

7.  Profitlessness  of  friendship  with  the  ungodly 

2131-2137. 

8.  Periluusness  of  friendship  with   the  ungodly, 

213S-2148. 

9.  By   the  choice  of  our  friends,  we  reveal  our 

own  character,  2149. 

10.  Youthful  friendships,  2 1 50. 

11.  Is  rarely  lurmed  late  in  life,  2151. 


Ssji 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


la.   Is   tested    by   adversity,     2152-2159,  23.  24I, 
2172,  2390. 

13.  Its  surest  proof  is  its  severest  test,  2160-2162. 

14.  Is  easily  destroyed,  2163. 

15.  The  difficulty  of  repairing::  its  hreaclies.  2164. 
j6.   How  it  is  to  be  maintained,  2165-2169. 

17.  Tlie  best  Friend,  2170,  964. 

18.  Is  not  limited  to  this  life,  21 71,  2172,  2746- 

2749,  5081. 

FUTURE  REWARDS  AND  PUNISHMENTS. 
\See  also  HEAVJiN,    2713-2793  ;  HELL,   2794- 
2812.] 

r.    REASONABLENESS   OF   BELIEF    IN   THEIR    REA- 
LITY, 2173-2175,  2795. 
IL    ARE     NECESSARY     TO     RESTRAIN     MEN      FROM 

CRIME,  2176. 
in,    ARE    NECESSARY   TO   VINDICATE  THE  JUSTICE 

OF   GOD,   2177. 
IV.  WHY  THEY  ARE  HIDDEN  FROM  US,  2178,   2179. 
V.   THE    PUNISHMENT    OF    THE     IMPENITENT  IS 
ETERNAL  : — 

1.  This  declaration  is  not  inconsistent  with  what 

we  know  of  God,  2180-21S4,  2796,  2797. 

2.  Guilt  is  not  to  be  measured  l>y  tiie  time  occu- 

pied in  transgression,  21S5,  2186. 

3.  Those  who  are  consigned  to  it  have  already 

proved  themselves  incorrigible,  2187,  2807, 
2808,  2809. 

4.  They  are  punished  for  ever,  because  they  would 

sin  for  ever,  2188,  2189,  2798. 

5.  A  universal  amnesty  is  morally  inadmissible, 

2190. 

6    A  second  probation  is  inconceivable,  2191. 

7.  The  fact  is  not  affected  by  our  belief  or  disbe- 
lief, 2192,  2810. 

GIFTS. 

1.  Their  variety,  2193-2198. 

2.  We  are  neither  to  envy  nor  to  despise  those 

whose  endowments  are  different   from    our 
own,  2199,  2200. 

3.  Every  man   sliould   devote  himself  to  the  task 

for  which  he  is  peculiarly  qualified,  2201. 

4.  Entail  responsibility,  2202. 

5.  To  whom  they  are  a  blessing,  2203. 

6.  For  what  purpose  they  are  to  be  used,  2204- 

2207. 

7.  How  they  arp  to  be  valued,  2208. 

8.  Are  not  to  be  gloried  in,  2209,  2210. 

9.  Are  not  the  highest  good,  221 1. 
ID.    Are  not  an  unmixed  gond,  2212. 

11.  Are  not  identical  with  grace,  2213-2215. 

12.  Apart  from  grace,  will  but  secure  our  condem- 

nation, 2216. 

13.  Are  less  influential  than  grace,  2217. 

14.  The  greatest  gifts  do  not  render  us  indispens- 

able to  the  Church  or  the  woild,  2218,  2219. 

GOD,      \See  CHRIST,  835-985  ;  HOLY   SPIRIT,  THE, 
2867-2908  ;  TRINITY,  THE,  4S09-482I.] 
I.   REASONS    FOR    BELIEF   IN    HIS    EXISTENCE, 

2220,   2221,   353-366. 
ri.   THERE   IS   ONE   GOD,  2222. 
III.    GOD   IS   A   SPIRIT,    2223. 
IV.    THE   GREAT    FIRST    CAUSE,  2224. 
V.    HIS   CREATNESS   AND   GLORY,  2225-2228. 
▼L   INCOMPREHENSIBLE,  YET  NOT  UNKNOWN, 
2229-2240. 


VII.   REVELATIONS     OF     GOD,    224I-2243,    36I, 

847,  S55-857,   I495-I497,  3527. 
VIII.    HOW    HE   IS    TO    BE   KNOWN,  2244. 
IX.   OUR   FATHER,  2245-2249. 
X.    HIS   ATTRIBUTES,  225O-2252. 
XL    ETKRNAL,  2253. 
XIU   UNCHANGEABLE,     2254-2256,    2324,    234I, 

3750,  3753. 
XIII.   HIS     OMNIPRESENCE,      2257-2262,      4OI5, 

5086. 
XIV.   HIS  OMNISCIENCE,  2263-2267,  956,   I282, 

1.504.   1791,2359- 
XV.   HIS  WISDOM,  2268. 
XVI.    HIS   POWER,  2269-2274. 
XVII.    HIS    HOLINESS,  2275.  2814-2819. 
XVIII.    HIS   RELATION   TO   SIN  : — 

1.  He  is  not  the  author  of  sin,  2276,  2277. 

2.  He  tempts  no  man  to  sin,  2278. 

3.  In  what  sense  He   hardens  the  heart, 

2279. 

4.  His  permission  of  sin,  2280. 

5.  His  hatred  of   sin,   2281,    2282,  4478- 

44S1. 

6.  He  willeth  not  the  death  of  the  sinner, 

2283,  2284. 

7.  His  compassion  for  sinners,  2285.  22S6. 
XIX.   HIS    WILL    MUST   BE  THE     RULE    OF    CUR 

LIFE,  2287. 
XX.    HIS  ANGER  : — 

1.  Is  a  Divine  perfection,  2288-229a 

2.  Its  terribleness,  2291. 

3.  Its  manifestations,  2292-2294. 
XXI,    HIS   LONGSUFFERING  : — 

1.  Its  cause,  2295. 

2.  Its  terrors,  2296-2299. 

3.  The  danger  of  abusing  it,  2300,  2301. 
XXII.    HIS   GOODNESS  : — 

1.  Ills  spontaneous,  2302,  2303, 

2.  His   tender   mercies   are   over    all    Ilii 

works,  2304-2306. 

3.  The  multitude  of    His  mercies,  2307- 

2309. 

4.  His  care  for  the  poor,  2310,  2311,  4015- 

4017,  4049- 

5.  His  condescension  to  the  lowly,  2312, 

4018, 

6.  His  pity  for  them  that  fear  Him,  2313- 

2315,  199,  201. 

7.  Is  not  inconsistent  with  severity,  2316, 

2317,  2 1 80-2 1  S3. 

XXIII.  HIS  LOVE  : — 

1.  It  preceded  ours,  2318. 

2.  It  was  manifested  in  the  gift  of  Christ, 

23 1 9-232 1,  390. 

3.  Its  tenderness,  2322. 

4.  It  embraces  all  His  children,  2323. 

5.  It  is  unchangeable,  2324. 

6.  It  should  lead  us  always  to  trust  Him, 

2325-2337- 

XXIV.  HIS   MERCY  :— 

1.  He  delights  in  mercy,  2328. 

2.  Is  needed  by  all,  2329,  2330. 

3.  Is  offered  to  all,  2331. 

4.  Exceeds  our  sin,  2332-2337. 

5.  Is  accorded  instantly,  2338,  2339. 

6.  How  wonderfully  we  are  urged  to  secll 

it,  2340. 

7.  It  is  inexhaustible,  2341-2345. 

8.  Must  be  personally  sought,  2346,  2347. 

9.  Is  limited  to  this  life,  2348. 

ro.   Is  not  to  be  abused,  2349,  2350. 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMEISIT. 


«57 


XXV.  HIS   GRACE  : — 

1.  Is  ever  needful,  2351-2358,  1255,   1256, 

2871,  2S91. 

2.  Is  ever  available,  2359,  2360 

3.  Is  unmerited,  2361,  2362,  4086. 

4.  Is  all-sufficient,  2363-2374.  2791. 

5.  Is  the  source  of  all  our  spiritual  excel- 

lences, 2375. 

6.  Its  transforming  power,  2376, 

7.  Is  inexhausiil)le,  2377. 

XXVI.  THE    REST   AND     PORTION    OF   TITE     SOUL, 

2378-238^,  1658,   1659,  4627-4630,4970. 
XXVII.    HIS     INDWELLING     IN     THE     SOUL,     2388, 

23S9,   2S4O,   2900,  2902. 
KXVIIL   THE   EVER-FAITHFUL  FRIEND,  239O. 

GOOD  WORKS. 

1.  Can   be   performed  by  none  but  pfood  men, 

2391,  3568,  3572,  3574.  3582,  35S5- 

2.  In  what  sense  any  man's  works  can  be  said  to 

be  good,  2392. 

3.  Are  required  of  all  who  profess  to  be  Christ's, 

2393-2397. 

4.  Their  relation  to  faith,  2398-2404,  1978-19S6. 

5.  Their  relation  to  salvation,  2405-2408,  1950, 

1951.  3588,  3589-. 

6.  Are  the  life  of  devotion,  2410. 

7.  Are  not  to  be  boasted  of,  2411,  2412,  2375. 

8.  Are  scrutinised  by  God,  2413. 

9.  Evangelical  preachers  are  not  enemies  of  good 

works,  2414. 

GO.SPEL.    THE 

1.  A  great  mystery,  2415. 

2.  The  gladdest  tidinys,  2416. 

3.  Is  addressed  to  all  mankind,  2417. 

4.  Universally  and   permanently  needful,   2418- 

2420. 

5.  Its  universal  adaptation,  242i-2.»24. 

6.  Its  universal  adaptation  to  our  need  a  proof  of 

its  Divine  origin,  2425-2427. 

7.  Its  power,  2428-2430. 

8.  How  it  is  to  be  treated  by  us,  2431-2434. 

9.  The  danger  of  neglecting  it,  2435. 

10.  Not  to  be  rejected  on  account  of  the  imper- 
fections of  its  preachers,  2435. 

It.  Not  to  be  rejected  on  account  of  the  scepti- 
cism of  able  men,  2436. 

12.  In  what  sense  men  are  damned  for  rejecting 

it,  2437- 

13.  Its  diverse  effects,  2439-2441. 

14.  To  what  its  succe.ss  is  to  be  attributed,  2443. 

15.  The  permanence  of  its  influence,  2444. 

16.  Symbols  of  the  Gospel,  2445,  2446. 

17.  Nothing  else  will  satisfy  believers,  2447. 

18.  It  is  our  duty  to  spread  it,  2448. 

19.  Fear  for  it  is  not  inconsistent  with  faith  in  it, 

2449. 

20.  The  great  hindrance  to  its  progress,  2450. 

21.  Its  ultimate  triumph,  2451. 

GRACE. 

L  CONSIDERED  AS  A  DIVINE  ENERGY  WORKING 
IN  THE  SOUL: — 

I.  The  mode  of  its  operation,  2452. 
3.  The  transformations  it  effects,  2453,  2454, 
107 1,  2376,  4346. 

3.  It  cannot  be  hui,  2455. 

4.  Its  fruits  are  unmi-takable,  2456, 

5.  Its  contlicls.  2457-2459. 


II.    CONSIDERED  AS  CHRISTIAN  CHARACTBE  ". 

1.  Its  source,  2460-2462. 

2.  Adorns  the  soul,  2463. 

3.  How  it  is  wrought  in  the  soul,  2464-2466, 

210,  2972. 

4.  How  it  is  maintained  in  the  soul,  2467,  2468. 

5.  Its  development  may  be  hindered,  2469, 

6.  Weak  grace  is  real  grace,  2470,  247 1. 

7.  Its  relation  to  glory,  2472. 

GROWTH  IN  GRACE. 

\.    IN  WHAT  IT  CONSISTS,  2473-2478. 
II.    IS  NECESSARY:  — 

1.  Because  we  are  born  into  the  Divine  life 

imperfect,  2479-2482. 

2.  To  prove  the  sincerity  of  our  profession  and 

the  reality  of  our  grace,  24S3-24SS,  3965. 

3.  To  preserve  us  from  aposlacy,  24S9-2492, 


4.  To  qualify  us  to  receive  more  grace,  2493. 

5.  To  secure  God's  commendation,  2494,  2495. 

6.  To  our  comfort  and  jny,  2496,  2497. 

7.  To  bring  us  to  heaven,  2498. 

III.  WHAT  IT  IS  THAT  IS  REQUIRED  OF  US,*  2499. 

IV.  SHOULD  BE  EARNESTLY  DESIRED,  25OO,  250I 
V,    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  SECURED  : — 

1.  By  constant  contemplation  of  the  character 

ol  Christ,  2502. 

2.  By  a  wise  use  of  the  means  of  grace,  2503. 

3.  By  earnest  effort,  2504-2507. 

VI.  ITS  METHOD  : — 

1.  It  is  gradual,  2508-25 1 6,  1072. 

2.  And     therefore     is     frequently   impercep- 

tible:— 
(l.)  In  its  comniatcement,  2^1^-2^21,  z'Udz. 
(2.)  In  its  progress,  2522-2526. 

3.  It  is  intermittent,  2527-2530. 

4.  It  is  sectional,  2531,  2532. 

5.  Yet  it  is  continuous,  2533-2538. 

6.  It  is  cumulative  in  its  rate,  2539-2544. 

VII.  SHOULD  BE  SYMMETRICAL,  2545,  2546. 
VIIL   HINDRANCES  TO  IT,  2547-255O. 

IX.    PROOFS  OF  ITS  REALITY  :  — 

1.  Increasing    spiritual     discernment,    2551, 

2552. 

2.  More  successful  resistance  to  temptation, 

2553- 

3.  Greater  patience  under  affliction,  2554. 

4.  A  more  exact  performance  of  duty,  2555. 

5.  Increased  delight  in  duty,  2556,  2557. 

6.  Diminisliing    aversion    from   death,    2558, 

2559- 

X.    ITS  REWARDS,  2560-2562,  4808. 
XI.   SHOULD   INSPIRE   US  WITH   THANKFULNESS, 

2363. 
Xn.    CANNOT  BE  TOO  GREAT,  2564-2568, 
XIII.    IT  SHALL  GO  ON  FOR  EVER,  2569. 

hearers! 

1.  Various  kinds  of  hearers  : — 
(l.)  Drowsy  hearers,  2570-2572. 
(2.)  Inattentive  hearers,  2573-257S* 
(3.)   Careless  hearers,  2576. 

(4.)   Curious  hearers,  I'^l'], 

(5.)  Discontented,    querulous  heare  fj     2^?8- 

25S2.  '       ^' 

(6.)  Forgetful  hearers,  2583. 
{7.)  Injudicious  hearers,  2584. 
(8.)  Hardened  hearers,  2585. 

2.  Need  spiritual  ears  to  appreciate  <^^  GospeL 

2^86,  2587. 


858 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT, 


a.  Should  seek  to  be  profited  rather  than  pleased, 
2588,  25S9. 

4.  Are  not  to  be  weary  of  fnmiliar  truths,  2590. 

5    Tiieir   craving  for    novelty    is   unhealthy  and 
ahsnid,  2591-2594. 

6,  Should  regnid  the  message,  not  the  messenger, 

2595-2600. 

7.  Necessity  of  effort  on  their  part,  2601. 

5.  Should   apply  to   ihemselvLS  what  they  hear, 

2602-2605,  4S60-4S63. 
9.  The    folly    of    relenting    faithful    preaching, 
2606-2609,  4325,  4333. 

10.    Folly  of  their  craving  for  "  comforting  "  preach- 
ing, 2610-2613. 

ri.   Are  not  to  regard  as  useless  what  is  profitless 
to  themselves  personally,  2614. 

12.  Should  discriminate  between  truth  and  error, 

2615,  2616. 

13.  Must  test  what  they  are  taught  by  the  Word 

of  God,  2617. 

14.  "Be  ye  doers  of  the  Word,  and  not  hearers 

only,"  2618-2O21. 

15.  Should  exemplify  the  Gospel,  2622,  2623. 

16.  Should  endeavour  to  retain  what   they  hear, 

2624-2627. 
fj    Consolations  for  discouraged  hearers  : — 

(i.)  In  hearing  the  lVo7-d,ho'wrjer  imperfectly, 

we  at  least  obey  God's  conimaiul,  2628. 
(2.)   Our  imperfect  hearing  prepares  ics  for  a 

more  perfect  service  of  God,  2629. 
(3.)  In  hearing,  our  sinjttlness  is  not  created, 

hut  revealed,  2630. 
(4. )   Our  sense  of  im  Perfection  shottld  make  us 

more  constant  in  hearing,  2631,2632. 
(5.)   Our  very  iveakness  may  render  our  se?~i'ice 
more  acceptable  to  God,  2633. 
r8    Where   all  seems    lost,    much  really  may  be 
gained,  2634-2637. 

HEARING. 

1  Is  a  natural  instinct  of  the  new  life,  2638. 

2  Its  importance,  2639-2643. 

3  Should  be  practised  constantly,  2644-2648. 

4  Should  be  preceded  by  appropriate   prepara- 

tion, 2649-2653. 

5  Should  have  for  its  end  personal  profit,  2654- 

2658. 

6  Wandering  thoughts,  2659. 

7  Profitless  hearing  is  injurious,  2660. 

8  Should  be  followed  l)y  meditation,  2661-2665, 

3474,  34S0,  3505. 

9  How  the  impressions  produced  by  it  are  to  be 

retained,  2666-2668. 


HE\RT.    THE 

1.  Is  naturally  corrupt,  2669-2676,  805. 

2.  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God,  2677— 

2679. 

3.  The  difficulty  of  knowing  it,  2680,  4434,  4454, 

4714. 

4.  It  is  known  to  God,  2681   2683. 

5.  It  is  tested  by  temptaiion,  26^^4-2687. 

6.  lt>  suitors,  26S8. 

7.  The  determining  power  of  the  life,  2689-2693. 

8.  Its  strength  for  evil,  2694. 

9.  Must    he  kept  with  all  diligence.  2695-2705, 

1841,  1842. 
10.   Importance    of    keeping   it    wel'    employed, 
2706-2708^ 


11.  When  pure  is  a  dwelling-place  for  God,  3709- 

2711. 

12.  A  picture  of  what  the  heart  should  be,  2712. 

HEAVEN. 

1.  Is  a  place  as  well  as  a  state  of  being,  2713. 

2.  Imjierfectness  of  our  knowledge  concerning  it, 

27 14-27 17. 

3.  How  curious  questions  concerning  it  are  to  be 

answered,  2718. 

4.  The  references  ol  Scripture  to  it,  2719. 

5.  Its    supreme    glory    the    presence   of   Christ, 

2720. 

6.  Its   del  lights    are   inexhaustible    and   its  joys 

eternal,  2721-2727. 

7.  The  rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God, 

2728,  2729. 

8.  Is  strictly  reserved    for  God's   people,  2730, 

1493,  2829-2832,  2865,  2866. 

9.  Necessity    of    preparation    for    it,   2731-2738, 

3568,  3746,  4096,  4098-4102,  4140. 
ID.   Familiarised  to  us  by  the  death  of  our  beloved 
ones,  2739. 

11.  The  realm  where  character  is  perfect,  2740, 

2741. 

12.  Varieties  of  character  in  heaven,  2742,  2743. 

13.  The  vasin?ss  of  its  population,  2744,  2745. 

14.  Recognition  of  friends  in  heaven,  2746-2749, 

2171,  2172,  5081. 

15.  The  memories  of  heaven,  2750. 

16.  Degrees  of  glory,  2751-2753,  2562. 

17.  Is  despised  by  the  ungodly,  2754. 

18.  Is  forfeited  voluntarily,  2755. 

19.  The  difficulty  with  which  God  brings  us  to  it, 

.  2756. 

20.  It  is  not  enough  merely  to  desire  to  reach  it, 

2757.  275S,  17S7,  4140. 

21.  It  should  be  the  supi  erne  object  of  our  life  to 

secure  it,  2759-2762. 

22.  Thi>  is  not  inconsistent  with  strict  attention  to 

the  ordinary  duties  of  life,  2763,  2764. 

23.  Shut  out  at  last  !  2765. 

24.  To  be  made  a  topic  of  frequent  meditation, 

2766-2770. 

25.  The  influence  of  the  hope  of  heaven,  2771- 

2779- 

26.  The  ardour  with  which  the  Christian  longs  foi 

it,  2780-2785. 

27.  Longings  for  it  strengthen  with  the  spiritual 

life,  '27S6,  2787. 

28.  Foretastes   of  its  joys  are  granted  here  and 

now,  2788,  2789,  3052,  3053. 

29.  The  journey  thither  : — 

(l.)    J  he   difficulties  of  the  way,    2790,    197, 

4213. 
(2.)    The  difficulties  of  the  way  are  not  to  turn 

us  from  it,  2791. 
(3.)  At  the  end  of  the  way  there  is  a  sufficient 

recompense  for  all  that  can  befall  us  in 

it,  2792,  2793. 

HELL.     [See  also  future  rewards  and  punish- 
ments, 2173-2192.J 

1.  Its  locality  unknown,  2794. 

2.  Keasonalileness  of  beliel  in  its  existence,  279?. 

3.  The  dungeon  of  the  universe,  2796,  2797. 

4.  The  wickeoness  ot  its  inhabitants,  279S. 

5.  The  misery  ol  its  inhabitants  : — 
(l.)    Its  utierness,  2799,  2S00. 
(2.)  From  xvhat  it  arises,  2801. 

6.  Its  uiKjuenchable  fire,  2802-2804, 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


S59 


7.  Its  tonnents  eternal,  2S05,  2806. 
».   Voluntarily  diosen  by  the  wicked,  2S07,  4930. 
9.   In  wliat  sense  it  is  the  doom  of  rejectors  of 
Christ,  2808,  2809. 

10.  Men  should  be  warned  against  it,  2810.  28 1 1. 

11,  Inefficacy  of  unbelief  in  its  existence,  2S12. 

HOLINESS. 

1.  Defined.  2813. 

2.  As  displayed  in  God  and  mnn,  2814-2817. 

3.  Is  well-pleasing  to  God,  281S,  2819. 

4.  Is  absolutely  necessary  : — 

(l.)    'J 0  our  salvation,  2820,2821. 

(2.)    To  our  acceptance  tvith  Goii,  2822-2824. 

(3.)    To  our  itniun  with  Christ,  2825. 

(4.)    To  our  safety  in  temptation,  2S26,  2035. 

(5.)    1 0  our  usefulness  here  or  heriafter,  2827, 

2217. 
(6.)    To  our  happiness,  2828, 
(7.)    'To  qualify  us  for  heaven,  2829-2832,  2730, 

2738. 

5.  Is  true  happiness,  2833-2835. 

6.  How  its  blessedness  is  to  be  attained,  2S36- 

2839. 

7.  Its  source,  2840,  2841. 

8.  Its    production   God's   aim   in  all    His  provi- 

dences, 2842,  2843, 

9.  Its  production  the  end  and  object  of  all  reli- 

gious observances,  2844, 
10.   Should  be  continually  -iriven  after  : — 

(l.)  Notwithstanding  that  it  mav  expose  us  to 

hatred  and  stiffrrim;,  2S45,  2S46. 
(2.)   In  spite  of  niisrepresentatioii.  2S47. 
(3.)   Aot7vithstandi7tg  that  perfection    is    un- 
attainable in  this  life.  2848. 
How  it  is  to  be  attained,  2849-2855. 
Must  pervade  the  whole  life,  and  cause  us  to 

hale  all  sin,  2856-2S60. 
Is  not  at  once  confirmed  in  the  soul,  2861. 
Its  progress  is  not  always  perceptible,  2862. 
How  it  is  to  be  maintaineil,  2863. 
Is  not  to  be  trusted  in,  2864, 
Does  not  entitle  us  to  heaven,  2865,  2866. 


II. 

12. 

14. 

15- 
16. 

17- 
HOLY  SPIRIT.    THE 


I.    THE    THIRD    PERSON    IN   THE    BLESSED    TRI- 
NITY,  2867. 
II.    HIS  ASSISTANCE  : — 

I.    Its  nature,  2868-2870. 
8.   Our  need  of  it  : — 

(l.)    To  deliver  us  from  sin,  287T. 

(2.)    To  guide  anil  uphold  us  from  day  to 

day,  2872-2875. 
(3.)    To  stcpport  us  in  affliction,  2S76. 
(4.)  In   the  study  of  God's    Word,   2877- 

2882. 
(5,)   In  player,  2883,  2884,  3847-3849. 
(6.)    lu  pleaching,  2885- 28SS. 
(7.)  In     the     use    of   ordutancesy    2SS9- 

2S91, 

ni.    HIS  INFLUENCE  : — 

1.  On  whom  it  is  exerted,  2892. 

2.  How  it  is  exerted  : — 
(i.)   Freely,  2893. 
(2.)   Gently,  2894. 

(3.;  Silently,  2895,  2896. 
(4. )    Yet    its  effects   are   ferceptible,    2897, 
2898. 

3.  Sliould  not  be  resisted,  2899. 

IV.    HIS  INDWELLING  IN  THE  SOUL  :— 

1.    Its  manner,  290^^,  2840. 


2.  The  safety  of  the  soul,  2901. 

3.  Is  a  pledge  and  foretaste  of  heaven,  2903^ 

2903. 

4.  Is  a  matter  of  consciousness,  2904 

5.  Its  evidences,  2905. 

V.  THE  WITNESS  OF  THE  SPIRIT  : — 

1.  Variable,  yet  real,  2906,  2907. 

2.  An    evidence    of    the    Divine    Mission   of 

Christ,  2908. 

HOPE. 

I.    DEPICTED,  2909. 
H.    ITS  INFLUENCE  : — 

1.  It    is    the   spring  and   soul  of  enterprise, 

2910-2912. 

2.  It  relieves,  sustains,  and  comforts  in  afilic- 

tion,  2913-2921. 

3.  It  sustains  in  the  conflicts  and  temptations 

of  life,  2922,  2923,  3705. 

4.  It  ennbles  a  man  to  be  helpful  to  his  fellow- 

men,  2924. 

5.  We  should  therefore  pray  that  it  may  be 

increased  in  us,  2925. 

III.  HOW  AND  WHY  A  CHKlsl  IAN    HOPE  IS  TO  BE 

AITAINED,  2926. 

IV.  CAUTIONS  CONCERNING  ITS  EXERCISE  : — 

1.  We    should    remember    that    many  of  'he 

hopes  we  cherish  are  baseless  and  illu- 
sory, 2927. 

2.  We  should  not  set  our  hopes  on  too  distant 

ol)jects,  292S. 

3.  We  should  not  permit  our  hopes  to  become 

extravagant  or  i<lle,  2929,  2930. 

4.  We  shouiil  test  its  reality,  2931,  2932, 
V.     ITS   DISAPPOINTMENI'S,    2933-2935. 

VI.  A   HOPE   THAT   WILL  NOT  BE  DISAPPOINTED, 

2936. 

HUMILITY. 

I.    IN  WHAT  IT  CONSISTS  : — 

1.  Not  in  underrating  ourselves,  2937,  2938. 

2.  Bvit  in  not    over-valuing   ourselves,  2939- 

2941. 

II.    ITS  CHARACTERISTICS  : — 

1.  It  is  not  self-conscious,  2942,  2943. 

2.  It  delii^hts  in  privacy,  2944,  2945. 

III.  IS    CONSTANTLY    EXEM  I'M  KIED    IN    THE  WISE 

AND    GOOD,    2946-2949,     1075,      '987-1989, 
3090,  3142. 

IV.  ITS  IMPORTANCE  : — 

1.  It  is  the  foundation  of  Christian  character, 

2950-2953 

2.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  our  acceptanca 

with  God,  2954. 

3.  It  qualifies  us  lor  the  reception  of  grace, 

2955- 

4.  It  ennobles  our  nature,  29';6,  2957. 

5.  It  is  the  life  of  prayer,  2958. 

6.  It  is  the  safeguard  of  all  the  virtues,  2959, 

2960. 
V.   ITS  influence: — 

1.  It  promotes  growth  in  grace,  2961,  2962. 

2.  It  makes  men  contented,  2963,  2964. 

3.  It  makes  men  thankiul,  2965. 

4.  It  makes  men  useful,  2966,  2967. 

VI.    HOW     IT    IS    TO     BE    ATTAINED,    2968-2972, 
2977. 
VII.    DEEPENS  AS  GRACE  INCREASES,  2973,  *974t 
VIII.     MS  COUNTERFEITS,   2975,  2976. 

IX.    ITS  WISDOM,  2977-2979,  4759. 


86o 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


JL    ITS  REWARDS  : — 

1.  The  inheritance  of  the  earth,  298(X 

2.  Pardon,  2981. 

3.  Grace,  2982,  2983. 

4.  Power  with  God,  2984, 

5.  Eternal  glory,  2985. 

HYPOCRITES. 

1.  Their  self-seeking,  2986-2989. 

2.  Their  zeal  for  forms  and    ceremonies,    2990- 

2992. 

3.  Tlieir  love  of  publicity,  2993,  2994. 

4.  Often  show  fairer  than  real  Christians,  2995, 

2996. 

5.  The  contrast  between  what  they  seem  and  are, 

2997-3005. 

6.  Their  knowleds^e  is  comfortless,  3006. 

7.  Tlieir  religion  is  only  a  screen,  3007. 

8.  Their  inconsistency  in  prayer,  3008. 

9.  Their  folly  and  misery,  3009-3015. 

10.  Their  craft,  3016. 

1 1.  The  certainty  of  their  ultimate  exposure,  3017- 

3023. 
13.   The  vanity  of  their  hope,  3024,  3025. 

13.  Tlieir  wickedness,  3026-3028. 

14.  Their  punishment,  3029-^032, 

H.  Do  not  disprove  the  existence  of  true  piety, 
3033.  3034- 

JOY. 

I.  Is  more  than  mirthfulness,  3035. 

X.  The  transiency  of  worldly  joys,  3036. 

3.  Is  a   duty  of   the   Christian  life,    3037-3039, 

1642,  3947. 

4.  Its  beauty,  3040. 

5.  Its  transforming  power,  304I. 

6.  Should  be  continuous,  3042. 

7.  Its  hindrances,  3043-3045. 

8.  Mistakes  concerning  it  : — 

(I.)  It  is  not  necessarily  an  immediate  eject  of 

conversion,  3046. 
(a.)  It  will  not   be  experienced  or  contimied 

unless  the  conditions  of  joy  are  fulfilled, 

3047,  3048. 
{3.)  Like  all  01  her  feelings,  it  is  not  uniutermit- 

teitt,  3049,  3050. 
(4.)  Perfect  joy  is  not  to  be  expected  on  earth, 

3051- 

9.  Christian  joy  is  heaven  begun,  3052,  3053. 

JUDGMENT.     THE  DAY  OF 

1.  Its  terrors,  3054. 

2.  Its  disclosures,  3055. 

3.  Our  motives  will  determine  our  destiny,  3056. 

4.  The  law  by  which  we  shall  be  judged,  3057. 

5.  Its  present  moral  influence,  3058,  3059. 

6.  Why  men  are  indifferent  with  regard   to  it, 

3060. 

7.  Not  the  less  certain  because  unexpected,  3061. 

8.  Importance  of  preparation  for  it,  3062-3066. 

KNOWLEDGE. 

L    SECULAR  AND  RELIGIOUS: — 

I.  Is  founded  in  faith,  3067. 
a.  The  desire  of  knowledge  :— 

(I.)  Is  natural,  306S. 

(2.)  Is  insatiable,  3069,  3070. 

3.  How  it  may  be  best  acquired,  3071-3073, 

1747- 

4.  If  too  easily  gained,  is  soon  lost,  3074. 

5.  How  it  is  to  be  valued,  3075-3078. 


6.  Should  be  the  object  of  life-long  pursoii, 

3079,  3080. 

7.  Is  continually  enlarging,  3081. 

8.  Yet  at  the  best  is  very  limited,  3082,  150&- 

151S. 

9.  "  A  linle  knowledge  is  a  dangerous  thing," 

3o8_3-3o85. 

10.  Why  u  should  be  sought,  3086,  3087. 

11.  An  importnnt  caution  for  those  cugaj^ed  ia 

its  pursuit,  30S9. 

12.  It  makes  men  humble,  3OQO. 

II.  RELIGIOUS  KNOWLEDGE:— 

1.  In  what  it  consists,  3091,  3092. 

2.  Is  not  naturally  desired  by  men,  3093, 

3.  How  it  is  to  be  acquired  : — 
(l.)  By  diligent  study,  3094. 

(2.)  By  sysleinalic  and  orderly  study,  3095. 
(3.)  By  giving  our  closest  and  most  constant 

attention  to  the  most  important  truths, 

3096. 

4.  Should  be  ever  increasing,  3097-3102.     " 

5.  Should  be  reduced  to  practice,  3103-31 11. 

6.  Divorced  from  experience  and  practice  ia 

worthless,  31 12-3124. 

7.  Its  present  imperfection,  3125,  3126. 

8.  Its  future  perfectness,  3127,  3128. 

9.  The  sources  of  knowledge  will  nev<v  be 

exhausted,  3129. 

III.  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD  : — 

1.  Its  importance,  3130-3136. 

2.  Its  insufficiency,  3137. 

3.  Its  delightfulness,  313S,  3139. 

4.  Should  be  progressive.  3140. 

5.  Is  imj^ossib  e  to  the  incinstant,  314!. 

6.  Its  humbling  effects,  3142. 

IV.  SAVING  KNOWLEDGE  : — 

1.  Its  nature,  3143-3147. 

2.  Can  be  imparted  to  us  only  by  the  Spirit 

of  Go'l,  3148. 

3.  Its  blessedness,  3149-3152. 

4.  By  whom  it  is  po-sessed,  3153,  3 '54- 

5.  How  its  possession  is  to  be  pruvetl,  3155. 
LAW. 

I.    THE    EXTENT    AND    BLESSEDNESS    OF    HER 

SWAY,  3156,  3157. 
ir.   HUMAN  LAWS  : — 

1.  Their  foundations,  3158. 

2.  Are  needful  for   the  weak   and  wicked, 

3159-3161,  3216 

3.  Are   not  the   standard  of  righteousness, 

3162. 

4.  How  they  are  to  be  estimated,  3163,  316^ 

5.  Should  not  be  too  minute  and  restrictive, 

3165,  3166. 

6.  Should  be  carried  into  effect,  3167. 

7.  "  Going  10  law,"  316S,  3169. 

III.  THE    LAWS    OF     NATURE.        [See     MIRACLIS, 

3526-3562.] 

I.   Some  of  their  characteristics  ; — 
(l.)   They  are  endwing,  Tfi'jo. 
(2.)    7hev  are  inexorable  and  indiscritni- 

nating,  3171. 
(3.)   They  are  irresistible,  3172. 
a.  They  are  merely  modes  of  Divine  opera- 
tion, 3173-3176- 

3.  Their  regularity  is  a  reason  for  thanki 

giving,  3177. 

4.  Their  relation  to  Providence,  3178. 

5.  Their  relation  tr>  prayer,  3179-3182,  3751, 

3752.  3757- 

6.  Their  relation  to  human  activity,  3183. 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


861 


nr.    THE  MORAL  LAW  : — 

r.  Is  the   only    standard  of    righteousness, 

3iii4. 
a.  The  loftiness  of  its  standard,  3185. 

3.  Why  so   high   a  standard  is  set  before  us, 

31S6. 

4.  Its  sacredness,  3187. 

5.  Is  inexorable,  31S8. 

6.  Is  binding  even  on  fallen  man,  3189,  3190. 

7.  In  what  sense  it  is  "  the  occasion  of  sin," 

3191,  2630. 

8.  Its  ininistiation  of  condemnation,  3192- 

3195- 

9.  Is    terrible    only   to    transijressors,    3196, 

ro.  In  what  sense  it  is  a  restraint,  3198. 

11.  Has  its  source  in  love,  3200,  3201. 

12.  Is  not  burdensome  to  those  who  love  God, 

3202. 

13.  Insufficiency  of  its  work  : — 

(l)  It  reveals  trxte  bliss,  but  does  not  enable 

us  to  attain  it,  3203. 
(2.)  //  meals   sin,  but  does  not  save  the 

sinner.  3204,  3205. 
(3.)  //   terrifies   and  deters,  but  does  not 

renew,  3206-3209. 
(4.)   The  reason  of  its  inability  to  sanctify 

us,  3210. 

▼.    THE  MOSAIC  LAW: — 

1.  Its  benevolence,  3211-3213. 

2.  Its  suitalileness  for  its  season,  3214- 

3.  A  preparation  for  Cliristianity,  3215. 

4.  Compared  with  Christianity,  3216. 

LIFE.     HUMAN 

1.  Its  emblems: — 

(l.)  A  voyage,  3217,  1689,  3264,  3273. 
(2.)  A  pilqrimaoe,  3218,  3219,  16S8. 
(3.)  A  drama,  3220,  3271. 
(4.)  A  rainbow,  3221. 

2.  Its  limitations,  3222. 

3.  Is  divinely  ordered,  3223-3226. 

4.  Importance  of  starting  well,  3227. 

5.  Should   not    be   dissipated    in  the    pursuit   of 

trifles.  3228-3231,  4928. 

6.  Should  be  devoted  to  great  purposes  according 

to  a  settled  plan,  3232-3239. 

7.  The  imjiortance  of  having  and  maintaining  an 

ideal  standard  of  excellence,  3240-3243. 

8.  How  nobility  of  life  is  to  be  attained,  3244- 

3251,4160. 

9.  "Seeing  life,"  3252-3255, 

10.  The  love  of  life,  3256. 

11.  Long  life:  — 

( I . )   The  blessing  of  th e  godly,  3257. 

(2.)  Is  to  the  ungodly  purely  a  reprieve,  3258. 

12.  How  its  length  is  to  be  estimated,  3259-3262. 

13.  Its  brevity,  3263-3268. 
14-  Its  vanity,  3269,  3270. 

15.  Its   uncertainty  and  transitoriness,  3271-3274, 

2928. 

16.  Its  close,  3275-3277. 

17.  Its  relation  to  eternity,  3278-3287,  219. 

18.  Reviewed,  3288-3290. 

19.  The  after-revelation  of  its  results,  3291-3293. 

LORD'S  SUPPER.  THE 

1.  Variously  estimated  by  Christian  men,  3294. 

2.  Its  design,  3295-3297. 

3.  Its  symbolism,  3298-3303. 


4.  In  what  sense  the  elements  are  sacred,  3304- 

5.  The  benefits   of  a    believing  reception   of  it, 

3305-3308. 

6.  Net  to  be  neglected,  3309-3311,  3462. 

7.  Who  are  to  partake  01  it,  3312-3315. 

8.  We   should    prepare    ourselves    to  receive   It, 

3316,  3317. 

9.  The   sin   of  not  discerning  the  Lord's  body, 

33 1 S. 
la   Why  so  many  derive  so  little  profit  from  Its 
observance,  33 1 9-3322. 

LOVE. 

I.  ITS  SOURCE,  3323. 
II.  ITS  EXCELLENCE  : 

1.  It  is  the  Hie  of  the  soul  and  of  the  moral 

universe,  3324,  3325. 

2.  It  is  the  bond  that  unites  all  holy  intelli- 

gences, 3326,  1199-1202. 

3.  It  is  the  sujirenie  grace,  3327,  3328. 

4.  Its  production  is  ilie  end  of  Christ's  mis- 

sion and  of  all  religious  ordinances  and 
exercises,  3329,  3330. 

5.  It  renders  all  our  se''"'ices  acceptable,  333'i 

3332,  3818. 

6.  Its  excellence  is  manifest  in  its  influenct  on 

the  heart  and  life: — 
(I.)  //  casts  outjear,  3333. 
(2.)  It  expels  7vhatever  is  inconsistent  with 

itself,  3334. 
(3.)  //  kindles    aspirations  after  holiness, 

3335- 
■    (4.)  It   makes  obedieitce  easy,    333o-334I» 

3517- 
(5.)  It  inspires  self-sacrifice,  3342. 
(6.)   It  fuakes  the  soul  beautiful,  3343-3346. 

III.  CHARACTERISTICS  OV  TRUE  LOVE  : — 

1.  It  is  practical,  3347. 

2.  It  embraces  God  and  man,  3348,  3349. 

IV.  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD,  335O,  2318-2327. 

V.  THE  LOVE  OF  CHRIST.     {See  also  946-950.] 

1.  Transcends  ours,  3351. 

2.  Is   the    most   powerful   of  motives,  3352, 

1 159,  3642. 

3.  Its  conqueruig  power,  3353-3356. 

VI.    LOVE  TO  GOD  : — 

1.  God  must   be   loved   for  His   own   sake, 

3357- 

2.  How  it  is  to  be  kindled  m  the  soul,  3358- 

3362,4113-  ,  ^       ^ 

3.  It  is  cnpable  of  being  cultivated,  3363. 

4.  Leads  10  trust  in  God,  3364. 

5.  A  test  of  its  reality,  3365,  4188-4190.  ^ 

6.  Comfort   for   those  who   lament  that  it  is 

feei)ie  in  them,  3366. 

VII.    LOVE  TO  CHHIST,  3367-3369,  965,  IOO3,  lOO.J, 

3909,  3920. 

VIII.    LOVE  TO  THE  BRETHREN  : —  W 

1.  Is  the  badge  of  Christ's  disciples,  3370. 

2.  Our  love  must  be  like  Christ  s,  337J 

3.  We  must  love  what  is  Christ-like  .i>  them, 

3372. 

4.  We   must  love  them  on  account  of  what 

they  are  to  be,  3373. 

MAN. 

1.  The   Darwinian  hypothesis  as  to  his  origin, 

3374,  3375- 

2.  Is  more  than  an  animal,  3376,  3377- 

3.  The  grandeur  and  complexity  of  his  nature, 

3378-3383>  4815-4819- 


S6: 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


Was  made  in  the  image  of  God,  3384, 

His  original  perfection,  3385. 

llisfaif:— 

(I.)  Us  rjUences,  33S6,  33S7. 

(2.)  Its  effects,  li^'i. 

(3.)   The   Scripture  account   of  it  vindicated, 

3389- 
His  naiure  depraved,  3390-3397,  2669-2679, 

2685.  4552-455S. 
The  contlicLs  ol  liis  nature,  3398. 
His  moral  blindness,  3399. 
His  need  of  a  Divine  redemption,  3400,  I401, 

2368. 
His  vanity,  3401. 
His  deiiendence  on  God,  3402. 
An  object  of  Divine  care,  3403. 
His  liberty  restricted,  3404. 
His  greatness:  in  what  it  con=;ists,  3405.  3406. 
Is    immortal,    3407-3415,     2176,    3278-3287, 

4649-4667. 
His  future,  34 1 6,  3417. 
The  unity  ol  the  human  race,  3418-3420. 
The  future  of  the  human  race,  3421-3423. 


MEANS  OF  GRACE. 

1.  Their  necessity,  3424,  3425. 

2.  Are  only  means,  3426,  4107,  410S. 

3.  For  what  purpose  ihey  are  to  be  used,  3427» 

3428,  -^^,2,0. 

4.  In  V. hat  spirit  we  are    to   avail  ourselves  of 

them.  3429,  3430. 

5.  The  folly  of  IMiarasaism,  3431. 

6.  Aie  nut  in  them-elves  savnig,  3432-3437. 

7.  Yet  they  aie  not  to  be  iieylecied,  3438-3442. 

8.  On    the   contrary,  they  are    to    be    dili-ently 

used  : — 
(l.)   That  we  may  thereby  show  our  love   to 

God,  3443, 
(2.)  Because   God,  has  appointed  them,  3444- 

344S,  1785-1792,4205,  5054. 
(3.)  Because  it  is  by  them  we  have  communion 

with  Christ,  3449,  3450,  5077. 
(4.)  Because  we  need  them,  345  1  -3455. 
(5.)    That  we  may  be  in  the  way  of  blessing, 

3456,  3457,  5076. 
(6.)  Nut-uiithslaudin^  that  to  some  they  are  not 

a  blessing,  3458. 
(7.)  A'vt7uithstanding   that    they    may  not  be 

immediately    a    blessing    to    ourselves, 

3459- 

9.  The  danger  of  neglecting  them,  3460. 

10.  The  guilt  of  despi.>ing  them,  3461,  3462. 

11.  Are  all  to  be  esteemed  and  used,  3463,  3464, 

2503- 

12.  Why  liie  power  to  delight  m  them   is  some- 

times withheld,  3465. 

♦lEDlTATION. 

1.    WHAT  IT   IS,  3466,   3467. 
II.    IS  PRACTISED  BY  ALL  WHO  LOVE  GOD,   3468, 

3469- 
III.    ITS  USEFULNESS  : — 

I  It  (irepares  us  to  receive  and  retain  the 
Word  of  God,  3470-3473,  2661-2665, 
5083-5085. 

a.  It  makes  divine  truth  effectual  to  our 
salvation,  3474-3479. 

3.  It  renders  good  impressions  lasting,  3480. 

4.  It  gives  clearness  and  fulness  to  our  views 

of  truth,  3481,  3482. 


5.  It   makes  God's   Word   delightful  to  ui, 

3483.  3484- 

6.  It  delivers  us  from  vain  thoughts,  3485- 

3487. 

7.  It  quickens  our  affections,  3488-3491. 

8.  It  promotes  spiritual  health,  3492. 

9.  It  strengthens  the  spiritual  vision,  3493. 

10.  It  eniiches  the  unilerstaiidinL;,  3494. 

11.  It  nourishes  the  soul,  3495,  3496. 

12.  It  gives  depth  to  the  chaiacter,  3497. 

13.  It  piomotes  sjiiritual  fruitfulness,  3498. 

14.  It  brings  conilort  to  the  soul,  3499-350I. 

15.  It  keeps  ho]ie  active,  3502. 

16.  It  brings  God  near,  3503,  3S40-3843. 

17.  Its  advantages  must  be  experienced  to  be 

known,  3504. 

IV.    IS  A  PUTY   FOl^  EVERY  DAY,   3505,  3506. 
V.    HOW  IT   IS  TO   UE  CONDUCTED  : — 

1.  We  must  l)e  alone  with  God,  3507. 

2.  We  must  leave  behind  all  vain  and  worldly 

thoughts,  3508. 

3.  We  must  select   single  truths  for  special 

cons:iierati<Mi,  3509,  3510. 

4.  We  nnist  select    piactical  topics  for  con- 

sideration, 351 1. 

5.  We    must    not    be   in    too  great  haste   to 

bring  our  meditation  to  a  close,  3512- 

3514- 

6.  Neither  must  it  be  unduly  prolonged,  3515. 

VI.    ITS  DIFFICULTIES  : — 

1.  Are  merely  initial,  3516,  3517. 

2.  Yie  d  to  persistent  effort,  3518,  3519. 

3.  Are  not  to  deter  us  Irom  it,  3520. 

VII.    ITS  I'KorEK   RESULTS  : — 

1.  I'rayer,  352 1. 

2.  Practice,  3522-3525. 

MIRACLES.  [See  law  :  uiVis  of  nature,  3170- 

3'83.] 

1.  Defined,  3526. 

2.  Are  not  incredible,  3527,  3528. 

3.  Keasonalilcness  of  our  confidence  that  the  New 

Testament    Miracles   were    really    wrought, 

3529- 

4.  Theii  relation  to  natural  law  : — 

(I.)    1  hey  are  not  distinguished  from  the  effect) 
of  natural  law  in  being  tuorks-  of  God, 

3530- 
(2.)    7 hey  are   not  contrave}ttions  of  natural 

law,  3531-3534. 
(3.)  Supernatural   uses   of  natural  laws  are 

neithrT   inconceivable   nor   rare,    3535- 

3538. 

5.  Their  design,  3539-3543- 

6.  Under  what  conditions  they  are  authoritative, 

3544-  3545- 

7.  Their  significance  should  be  pondered,  3546, 

3547- 

8.  Their  cessation,  3548-3551. 

9.  Folly  of  the  demand  tl-..it  miracles  should  be 

repeated,  35S2-3555. 
10.   Are  not  the  most  wonderful    works  of   God, 
3556-3562. 

MORALISTS. 

1.  Their  excellences  : — 

(l.)   To  what  they  are  due,  3563. 

(2.)  Are  superficial,  3564. 

(3.)  Are  incomplete,  3565,  3566. 

2.  Their   lack   of  the  one   thing  needful,    3567- 

3570- 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


863 


3.  Their   acts   ate   vitiated   by   their  principles, 

3571-3575. 

4.  The  (lifficulty  of  their  task,  3576-3579. 

5.  Tlieir  weakness  in  temptation,  35"^°- 

6.  Repentance    towards    God    their    first    duty, 

35^i- 

7.  Tlieir  need  of  salvation,  3582  -3589. 

8.  Are   often    further    from  salvation    than    the 

profane,  3S90-3593- 

MORALITY. 

1.  The  distinction  between  morality  and  religion, 

3594,  4>4>- 

2.  Is  a  field-flower,  3505. 

3.  Is  ni)t  to  be  (les]iised,  3596. 

4.  Yet  it  is  insufficient,  35J7-3605,  2S23,  2824, 

2826,  4449,  4450. 

5.  It  is  at  best  a  preparation  for  something  better, 

3606. 

6.  It  is  good  for  this  world  only,  3607. 

OBEDIENCE. 

I.    ITS  IRKSOMENESS,   3608. 
II.    ITS  NECESSITY,   3609. 

III.  ITS  REASONABl.ENKSS,  361O. 

IV.  ITS  WISDOM,   361  I. 

V.   THE   TEST  OF  SINCERITY    AND  LOVE,   3612- 

3614. 
VI.    IS  A  GRADUAL  ATTAINMENT,   3615. 
VII.    CHARACTERISTICS  OF  TRUE  AND  ACCEPTABLE 
OUEDIENCE  : — 

1.  Accordance  with   the  will   of  God,  3616, 

3617. 

2.  It  is  all-comprehensive,  3618-3626,  4091, 

4467. 

3.  It  is  unquestioning,  3627-3630. 

4.  It  is  i)rompt,  3631. 

5.  It  is  exact,  3632. 

6.  It  is  cheerful,  3633-3639. 

7.  It  is  fervent,  3640. 

8.  It  is  sincere,  3641. 

9.  It  is  prompted  by  love  to  God,  3642. 
ID.   It  aims  at  the  glory  of  God,  3643. 
II.   It  is  constant,  3644. 

VIII.    ITS  REWARDS  : — 

1.  Peace  of  conscience,  3645,  3646. 

2.  Comfort  in  deatli,  3647. 

PATIENCE. 

I.    NATURE  OF  TRUE  PATIENCE  : — 

1.  Jt  is  neither  ignorant  nor  apathetic,  3648, 

3649- 

2.  It  is  not  stubborn,  3650. 

3.  It  is  not  ostentatious,  3651. 

IL    ITS  EXCELLENCY,  3652-3656. 

III.  ITS  NECESSITY,   3657-3662. 

IV.  ENCOURAGEMENTS  TO  ITS  EXERCISE  ! — 

1.  Under  provocation,  3663,  3957. 

2.  Under  persecutions  : — 

(l.)  Impatience    unll    but    aggravate   our 

misery,  3664. 
(2.)  Persecution  affords  an  opportunity  for 

the  display  of  our  Christian  graces, 

3665. 
(3«)  I(  befalls  us  only  by  God^s  permission, 

and  for  our  good,  3666. 
(4.)   God  will  bring  us  triumphantly  out  of 

it,  3667. 
(J.)   The  hour  of  deliverance  is  at  hand, 

3668. 


3.  Under  the  apparent  delays  of  Providence, 

3669. 

4.  Under  affliction  : — 

( I . )   Impatience  rvill  only  increase  and  pro- 

long  our  misery,  3670-3673,  I49. 
(2.)  Affliction    is   inevitable    in   this   life, 

"3674,  151. 
(3.)  AJfiutions  are  the  chastisements  of  a 

loving  Father,  3675,  3676,  148,  15a 
(4.)  God  7vatches  over  fjis  people  in  their 

trials,  3677. 
(5. )  The  purpose  of  our  affliction  is  to  restore 

us  to  spiritual  health,  3678-3684. 
(6. )    l(^e  are  under  the  care  of  a  Physician 

who  is  "  too  ivise  to  err,  and  too  good 

to  be  unkind,"  36S5-3691. 
(7.)  Affliction   is  a  vocation  whereby  God 

honours   us,    and  in  which  we  may 

glorify  Him,  3692-3695,  2554. 
(8.)   The  issue  of  all  afflictions  is  good  to  the 

people  of  God,  ib(j(i-l']02,  152,  153, 

154. 
(9.)  ■^^^  temporal  sorrows  are  but  "light 

afflictions,"  in  comparison  rvith  the 

evils  from  which  they  deliver  us,  and 

the  glories  for  which  they  prepare  us, 

3703,  3704. 
(10. )  Afflictions  endure  but  **for  a  moment, " 

3705,  3706. 

V.    ITS  POWER  : — 

1.  Exemplified  in  Job,  3707. 

2.  Exemplified  in  our  Lord,  3708. 

VI.    MUST  HAVE  ITS  PERFECT  WOR.K,   3709-3713, 

PRAYER. 

I.    ITS  NATURE,  37 14. 
II.    IS    THE    NATURAL    EXPRESSION    OF    NEUD, 

37i5-37»9- 

III.  IS   A    RESOURCE   AVAILABLE   FOR   ALL   GOD's 

PEOPLE     IN    ALL    THE    EMERGENCIES    OP 
LIFE,  3720-3724,  4939, 5066,  5067. 

IV.  IS  INinsPENSABLE  TO  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  : 

1.  To  its  existence,  3725. 

2.  To  its  sustenance,  3726-3728. 

V.    IS  A  TEST  OF  CHARACTER  : — 

1.  In   regard   to   the  objects   for  which  men 

pray,  3729, 

2.  In    regard   to  the    temper  in  which  men 

pray,  3730,  3731.  _ 

3.  In   the  regulaiity  with  which  men  pr.iy, 

373->  3733- 

4.  In  regard  to  the  period  during  which  men 

pray.  3734- 

VL    WHAT     I'ROFIT    SHOULD    WE    HAVE,     IF    W3 
PRAY   UNTO  HIM? — 

1.  The  protection  of  God's  providence  will  be 

extended  to  us,  3735. 

2.  The  promises  of  God's  Word  will  be  ful- 

filled to  us,  3736,  3737. 

3.  We  shall  be  reminded  of  our  dependence 

on  God,  3738. 

4.  The  ourden  of  our  soul  will  be  relieved  by 

the  very  act  of  prayer,  3739,  3740. 

5.  We  shall  be  caimid   in,  and  strengthened 

for,  life's  conflicts,  3741. 

6.  Our   character    will    be    ennobled,    3742, 

3743- 

7.  Our  souls  will  be  enriched,  3744,  3745. 

8.  We  shall  be  prepared  for  heaven,  3746. 

VII.    THE  METAPHYSICS  OF  PRAYER  : — 


864 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


I.  The  secret  of  its  usefulness  and  power, 

3747,  3748. 
a.  It  is  not  rendered  unnecessary  by  God's 
faiilifulness  to  His  promises,  3749. 

3.  It  is  not  rendered  unnecessary  by   God's 

unchangeableness,     3750-3753,     2225, 
2226. 

4.  In  view  of  the  experience  and  testimony 

of  God's  people,  speculative  objections 
against  prayer   are    futile  and  absurd, 

3754,  3755. 
VIII.  ITS  ran(;e: — 

I^  Nothing  is  too  little  to  be  made  a  subject 
of  prayer,  3756. 

5.  We  may  pray  for  secular  blessings,  3757. 

3.  Yet  there  are  limitations  to  its  range,  such 

as  :— 
(l.)   The  real  good  of  the  suppliant,  3758. 
(2. )  Cod''s  appoinliiients  respecting  the  future 

lifi,  3759. 

4.  These  limitations  are  wisely  and  mercifully 

ordained,  3760,  3554. 

5.  These    limitations    si)ould    be    reverently 

respected  by  us,  3761,  3845, 

IX.    IS  A  DUTY  BINDING  ON  ALL  MEN,  3762. 
X.    IS  A  PRIVILEGE,  3763,  3764. 
XI.    KINDS  OF  PRAYER  : — 

I.  Ejaculalory  prayer. 
(l.)  Its  power,  3765. 
(2.)  Is  even   more    essential   than    stated 

prayer,  3766-3768. 
(3.)  Is  always  practicable,  3769-3773. 
a.  Secret   prayer,    3774-3777,    2863,    2993, 
3435.  3436,  3468,  3469. 

3.  Intercessory  prayer,  377S,  5078. 

4.  Family  prayer,  3779-3781. 

XII.    MODES  OF  PRAYER  : — 

1.  Mechanical  prayers,  3782. 

2.  Extempore  prayers,  3783,  3784. 

3.  Written  prayers  : — 

(I.)  Are  lawful,  3785,  3786. 

(2.)   To  many  are  necessary,  3787,  37S8. 

(3.)  Efforts  should  be  made  to  outgrow  t/u 

need  of  them,  37  89. 
(4.)  Are  often  felt  to  be  inadequate,  3790- 

3792. 

4.  The  mode  is  non-essential,  the  spirit  is  all 

in  all,  3793. 
XIU.    HINTS  AS  TO  THE  CONDUCT  OF  PRAYER  :— 

1.  Close  the  eyes,  3794. 

2.  Calm  the  mind,  3795. 

3.  Ije  more  careful  about  the  spirit  than  the 

order  of  prayer,  3796. 

4.  Be  natural,  3797. 

5.  Be  reverend,  3798,  3799. 

6.  Be  simple,  3800. 

7.  Be  thoughtful  nnd  deliberate,  380I. 

8.  Be  specific,  3S02,  3843. 

9.  'Be  importunate,  3803. 
10.  Be  short.  3804-3809. 

II  I-et  it  be-in,  continue,  and  end  in  humble 
dependence  on  the  merits  of  Christ, 
38 10. 

XIV.   CHARACTERISTICS  OF  ACCEPTABLE  PRAYER: 
I.   It  is  spontaneous,  381 1. 
*   It  is  simple  and  sincere,  3812-3816. 

3.  It  is  joyful,  3817,  3818. 

4.  It  is  adoring,  3819. 

'  5.  It  is  thankful,  3S20. 

6.  It  is  thoughtful,  3821,  3822. 

7.  It  is  subnaissive,  3833,  1 57  2984. 


8.  It  is  trustful,  3824-3S26. 

9.  It  is  believing.  3827-3830. 

10.  It  is  fervent,  3831-383S,  4763. 

11.  It  is  persevering,  3839. 

XV.    PKE-REQUISITES  TO  ACCEPTABLE    PILWER  : 

1.  Meditation,  3S40-3843,  3521. 

2.  Familiarity  wiili  the  promises,  3844,3845. 

3.  Penitence,  3846. 

4.  Divine     assistance,     3847-3849,     28S3, 

2886. 
XVI.   PROPER   SEQUENCES  TO   PRAYER  : — 

1.  Effort,  3850-3854. 

2.  Self-examination,  3855. 

3.  Watchfulness,   3S56,    3857,    2972,  4903, 

4906-4910. 

XVn.    HINDRANCES   TO    PRAYER  ! — 

1.  Indulgence  in  sin,  3858. 

2.  Guilt  on  the  conscience,  3859' 

3.  Dimness  of  spiritual  perception,  3860. 

4.  Inordinate  cares   and   affections,    3861- 

3S63. 

5.  Wandering  thoughts,  3S64,  3865. 

XVIIL   IS   TO    DE   CO.\TINUALLY    MAINTAINED  ! — 

1.  Even  when  a  devotional  spirit  is  lacking, 

3866. 

2.  Because  continual  prayer  keeps  us  in  the 

love  of  God,  3S67. 

3.  Because  continual  prayer  is  necessary  to 

our  stability,  3S6S,  3S69. 
4   Because  it  promotes  our  growth  in  grace, 
3870,  3871. 

5.  The    fitness    and    importance    of  daily 

prayer,  3S72-3S76,  2697,  2701,  4199. 

6.  Because  of  liie  baseness  of  seeking  God 

in  adversiiy  only,  3877-3879. 

XIX.    ENCOURAGKMENT     FOR     DESPONDING     SUP- 
PLIANTS, 3880-3S82. 
XX.    ANSWERS   TO    PRAYER  : — 

1.  How  numerous  they  are,  3883. 

2.  Every    true    prayer   is   certain  to  be  an- 

swered, 3S84-3SS6. 

3.  Should    be   diligently  looked  for,  3887- 

3892. 

4.  Should  be  perseveringly  sought,  3893. 

5.  Are  to  be  patiently  waited  for,  3S94. 

6.  Are  frequently  delayed,  3S95,  3896. 

7.  Why   God   sometimes    delays  to  answei 

prayer,  3S97,  3S98. 

8.  Why    some    prayers   are    not    answered, 

3899- 

9.  Recorded  answers  to  prayer,  3900-3902, 

801. 

PROFESSION. 

L    IS  A    DUTY     ABSOLUTELY    BINDING    ON    ALL 
BELIEVERS  : — 

I.   Because   of  their    past    relations    to    God, 

39C'3- 
a.  Because  of  their  present  relations  to  God, 

3904-3906. 
3.  Because    of    their  obligations    to    Chti.st, 

3907- 
4  Because  of  the  needs  of  their  fellow-men, 

390S,  3909. 
5.   No     personal     considerations     should     b< 

allowed   to  deter   us  from  it,  3910,  3911, 

2374- 

II.    HOW   IT    IS   TO    BE   MADK  : — 

1.  Humbly,  3912. 

2.  Seriously,  3913. 

3.  Resolutely,  3914-3921. 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


865 


IC    WHAT     IS      DEMANDED      IN      THOSE      WHO 
MAKE   IT  : — 

1.  Sincerity,  3922-3924. 

2.  Christian  practice  : — 

(l.)  PVUhont  this  we  demonstrate  that  our 
profession  is  false,  3925-3930. 

(2.)  With  ut  this  ive  bnng  dishonour  upon 
religion,  3931,  3932. 

(3.)  Without  this  we  nullify  our  testimony 
for  Ch'ist,  3933. 

(4.)  Without  this  we  turn  our  very  profes- 
sion into  a  means  of  cz'il,  3934-3937- 

rV.    HOW   ITS    UEALITY    IS   TO    BE   TESTED  : — 

I.  Negative  tests  : — 

(i.)  A''ot  by  fluency  of  speech,  3938,  3939. 
(2.)  A'ot    by    outward    show,     3940-3942, 

3468,  3469,  4105. 
(3.)  Act  by  regularity  oj  attendance  at  public 

worship,  3943. 
(4.)  A^ot  bv  the  blossom,  but  by  (he  fruit, 

3944- 
%.  Positive  test*;  : — 

(I.)  Spiritual  life,  3945,  3946. 

(2.)  Love  to  God,  3947. 

(3.)  Lo7igings  after  holiness,  3948. 

(4.)  A'eal  conflict  with  evil,  3949-395^' 

(5.)  Pwity  of  heart,  3952,  3953. 

(6.)   Consistency    of    conduct,    3954-3956, 

4191-4194. 
(7.)  Patience  under  proz'ocation,  3957. 
(8.)  Steadfastness  under  persecution,  3958- 

3960. 
(9.)  Diligence  in  well-doing,  3961-3964. 
(10.)  Persr^erance,  3966-3976. 

TROSPERITY.   [^^-^  adversity,  16-30;  world, 

THE,  4967-4995.] 

1.  Is  not  necessarily  a  proof  of  the  Divine  favour, 

3977-3980,  189-196,  4932,  4933. 

2.  Renders  it  difficult  for  us  to  assure  ourselves 

that  we  have  the  friendship  of  men,  3981. 

3.  Is  a  test  of  V  haracter,  39S2,  39S3. 

4.  Is  not  a  thing  to  be  desired    by  every  man, 

3984-39S6,  1063,  5059.  5060. 

5.  Is  not  the  same  thing  as  happiness,  3987- 

3989. 

6.  How  little  it  profits  us,  3990. 

7.  Its  insecurity,  3991. 

8.  Exposes  us  to  envy  and  hatred,  3992,  3993. 

9.  Sliould  cause  us  to  be  especially   watciiiul, 

3994-3996. 
10.  Is  spiritually  perilous: — 

( I.)  //  enfeebles  the  soul,/^C)cy]. 

(2.)  It  dra'Ms  off  the  soul  from  God,  3998, 

3999- 
(3.)  Jt    causes    men   to    forget    God,   4000, 

4001. 
(4.)  It  mahes  men  forgetful  of  death,  4002. 
(5. )   //  destroys  watchfulness,  4003,   1 59. 
(6.)   //  exposes  us  to  temptation,  4004-4007. 
(7.)   Jt  fosters  the  passions,  4008-AOio. 
(8.)  Jt  promotes  pride,  40 II,  4012,  26. 
(9.)  //  increases  selfishness,  4013. 
(10.)  //  unfits  men  for  trial,  40 1 4,  27. 

PROVIDENCE. 

I.    IS  Al.h-EMISRACING  : — 

I.  It  regards  the  acts  and  governs  the  course  of 
every  individual,  401 5-4018,  2246-2248, 
2325-2327,  3223-3226,  3403,  3404. 


2.  It  controls  all  the  events  of  our  everyday 

life,  4019-4022. 

3.  The  comprehensiveness  of  providence  is  a 

natural  and  inevitable  result  of  the  omni- 
presence of  God,  4023. 

4.  Results  of  the  compreliensiveness  of  God's 

providence: — 
(i.)   There  are  no  disconnected  events,  4024, 

4025,  1720. 
(2.)  Great  revolutions  are  effected  silently  and 

with  apparent  suddenness,  4026. 
(3.)   7  he  purposes  of  the  wicked  are  frustrated, 

4027. 
(4.)  All  things  are  overitiled  for  good    to 

them  that  love  God,  4028. 
(5.)  Perfect  order  shall  at  length  reign  in  the 

moral  universe,  4029,  4030. 

II.    ITS  MYSTERIES  : — 

1.  Many  so-called  inscrutable  providences  are 

really  scrutable,  4031. 

2.  Tliey  are  never  real: — 

(l.)  17iey  are  due  to  the  medium  through 
which  we  view  God's  proceedings, 
4032. 

(2.)  They  are  due  to  the  limitedness  cf  our 
vinu,  4033,  4034,  1720. 

(3.)  Thev  are  due  to  the  fact  that  the  provi- 
dences %ve  criticise  are  incomplete,  4035. 

(4.)  They  are  due  to  our  ignorance  and  im- 
maturity, 4036,  4037. 

3.  Must   be   judged   by  us   reverently,   4038, 

4°39- 

4.  Must   be   acquiesced  in   believingly,   404^ 

4041. 

5.  The  point  from  which  they  are  to  be  solved, 

4042. 

6.  Their  solution  must  be  awaited  patiently, 

4043-4048. 
III.  TRUST  IN  providence: — 

1.  Is  always  to  be  exercised: — 

(l.)  £ven  in  the  greatest  straits  of  life,  4049, 

2372,  2373. 
(2.)  E7'en     when    God's    providences     run 

counter  to  ou-<-  ideas  and  expectations, 

4050,  4051,  114,  186,  3364. 
(3.)  Even   wlien   God  s  providences  seem  to 

run  counter  to  His  promises,  4052, 

4053.  3669; 

2.  Reasons  for  exeicising  it: — 

(l.)  Because    distrust    grieves     the    Divine 

Spirit,  4054. 
(2.)  Because  all  things  are  in  God's  hands, 

4055- 

(3.)  Because  nothing  can  take  Him  by  sur- 
prise, 4056. 

(4.)   The  Lord    redeemeth    the  soul  of  His 
servants,  and  none  of  them  that  trust 
in  Him  shall  be  desolate,  4057,  4058. 
3.  It  is  not  to  be  allowed  to  degenerate: — 

(l.)  Lither  into  an  indolent  fatalism,  4059, 
4060. 

(2.)  Or  into  a  rash  presumption,  4061,  406a. 

REGENERATION. 

L    IN  WHAT  IT  CONSISTS  : — 

X.  The  difficulty  of  defining  it,  4063. 

2.  Not  in  the  destruction  or  removal  rif  anj 

of  our  natural  qualities  or  characteristics, 
4064,  4065. 

3.  Not  in  the  impartation  of  any  new  faculties, 

4066. 

3^ 


866 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


4.  Not  in  the  addition  of  anything  to  what 

we  already  possess,  4067. 

5.  Not    in    the  calling;  forth   of  good   latent 

witliin  us,  4068. 

6.  Not  in  any  merely  outward  reformation  of 

character  or  conduct,  4069-4071. 

7.  But  in  tiie  impartation  of  new  liie  to  the 

soul,  4072. 

8.  In  a  ciiange  of  heart,  4073-4076. 

9.  In  tlie  hnpartation  of  a  new  impulse  and 

direction    to   the   moral    nature,    4077, 
4078. 

10.  In  our  moral  renewal  in  the  image  of  God, 

4079. 

U.    WHY  IT  IS  NFXESSARY  : — 

I    To  render  us  acceptalile   in  the   sight  of 

God,  4080,  4081,  3565. 
3,  Because    witlunit    it    no  spiritual   blessing 

can  be  obtained,  40S2,  4083. 

3.  To  heal  the  (iisease  of  sin,  4084,  40S5. 

4.  To   destroy  the   love  of  sin   in   the  soul, 

4086-40S8. 

5.  To    eradicate    pride    and    self-sufficiency, 

40S9. 

6.  Tu  enable  us  to  derive  profit  from  religious 

ordinances,  4090. 

7.  To  enable  us  to  live  for  the  glory  of  God, 

4091, 

8.  To  enable  us  to    live    a   holy   life,  4092- 

4095,  3567- 

9.  To  make  us  like  Christ,  4096. 

ID.  To  ensure  a  durable  profession,  4097. 

11.  To  qualify  us  for  heaven,  409S-4102,  3568. 

12.  Because  there  can  be  no  substitute  for  it, 

4103-4105. 

(II     ITS  AUIHOR,  4  106-41 13,  3148. 
rV.   ITS  EVUjENCES: — 

1.  If  it  has  taken  place,  there  are  sure  to  be 

evidences  of  it,  41 14,  4115,  2898. 

2.  Purification  of  the  thoughts  of  the  heart, 

4116. 

3.  Hatred  of  sin,  41 17,  41 18. 

4.  Holiness  of  life,  41 19,  412a 

5.  Likeness  to  Clnist,  4121. 

6.  Ease  and  delight    in    the   performance  of 

duty,  4122,  4123. 

7.  Wisdom  in  tiie  use  of  the  laws,  4124. 

V.    SHOULD  BE  SOUGHT  EARLY,  4125,  4126. 
VI.    IN  WHAT  SENSE  IT  IS  INSTANTANEOUS,  4I27, 
4128. 

RELIGION. 

I.    IS  A  NECESSITY  OF  THE  SOUL,  4I29,  413a 
II.    TRUE  RELIGION — IN  WHAT  IT  CONSISTS  : — 

1.  Not  in  outward  observances,  4131-4135. 

2.  Not    in  fluent   speech   concerning   sacred 

things,  4136. 

3.  Not  in  unpractical  meditations  on  spiritual 

tilings,  4137-4139. 

4.  Not  in  a  confident  assurance  of  our  personal 

safety,  4140. 

5.  Not  in  a  mere  prudential  morality,  4141. 

6.  Not  mere'.y  in  the  performance  of  acts  of 

benevolence,  4142. 

7.  But    in    a    right    government    of  the  soul, 

4143-4145- 

8.  In  doing  secular  work  from  sacred  motives, 

4146,  4147. 

9.  In    a    faithful    discharge    of    our    duties 

towards    both    God    and    man,    4148, 
4149. 


10.  I/i  likeness  to  God,  4x50-4154. 

11.  In  communion  with  God,  415^ 

III,    ITS   RI".AS<^NABLENESS,  4I56-4I58. 
IV.    ITS  VALUE  : — 

1.  Cannot  well  be  overstated,  4159. 

2.  Is  manifest  in  the  dignity  it  gives  to  oat 

life.  4160. 

3.  Is  manifest  in   its  influence  on  individual 

happiness,  4161-4163. 

4.  Is  manifest  in  its  influence  on  the  national 

welfare,  4164-4166. 
V.    ITS  DIFFICULTIES  : — 

1.  Are  often  exaggerated,  4167. 

2.  Yet  they  are  not  to  be  concealed,  4168. 

3.  Neither  are  they  to  be  made  unduly  pro- 

minent, 4169. 

4.  They  are  not  exceptional,  41 70. 

5.  They  are  transient,  4171. 

6.  How  they  are  to  be  overcome,  4172,  4I73» 

VI.    ITS  PLEASANTNESS,  4I74-4I76. 
VII.    HOW  THE  WORLD  JUDGES  OF  IT,   4177. 
VIII.    ITS  RELATION  TO  OUR   DAILY  LIFE  : 

1.  It  is  to  jiervade  and  glorify  our  whole  life, 

4178-41S7,  1 158,  3168-3626,  5043. 

2.  Yet   it  is  not  to  engross  all  our  thoughts, 

41SS-4190. 

3.  It   is  to  be  exemplified  and  perfected  in 

daily  life,  4191-4194,  2860. 

4.  The   trials  and    temptations   of  daily  life 

may  lie  made  helpful  to  it,  4195- 

5.  It  is  not    to  be   divorced    from    L;usiness, 

4 1 96-4 1 98. 

6.  It  is  not  incompatible  with  business,  4199. 

7.  Its    function    is    to    sanctify   and    ennoble 

business,  4200-4202. 

IX.    IS  OF  UNIVERSAL  OBLIGATION,  4203. 
X.    ITS  GROWTH   IN  THE  SOUL  :  — 

1.  Its  feeble  beginnings  are    not    to  be  de- 

spised, 4204. 

2.  The  means  by  which  it  is  fostered  are  not 

to  be  neglected,  4205. 

REPENTANCE. 

I.    ITS  NATURE,  4206-4209. 

II.  ITS  NECEssi  rv  : — 

1.  To  secure  us  against  the  judgments  of  God^ 

4210. 

2.  To  our  restoration    to  His   favour,   4211, 

4212. 

3.  To  our  reaching  heaven,  4213. 
III.   ITS  POWER  :— 

1.  It  prevails  with  God,  4214,  4215. 

2.  It  continues  to  the  very  end  of  life,  4216- 

4218,  4258. 
?.  The  folly  of  "  lurninc:  the  grace  of  God 
into  lasciviousness,    4219-4224. 

TV.    IT   IS    NEITHER    EXPIATORY    NOR   MERITORI- 
OUS, 4225-4228. 
V.    HOW    IT    IS    PRODUCED,    4229-423I,     1397" 
1407. 

VI.    MUST     NOT    BE    DELAYED.      [See    alsO    I438- 
I461.] 

1.  Because  delay  is  foolish,  4232-4236,  4923i 

4938. 

2.  Because   deby   is    dangerous,    4237-4240, 

4587,  45S8. 

3.  Because  delay  multiplies  difficulties,  424l'9i 

4246. 

4.  Because  delay  is  itself  a  grievous  sm,  and  a 

sign  that  really  we  intend  never  to   r* 
pent,  424.7,  4248. 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


867 


5.  Because  repentance  is  a  divine  gift,  4249, 

4250. 

6.  Because  repentance  is  a  task  too  difTicuIt  to 

be  rccoiiipliahed  in  the  iiour  of  deaili, 
4251,  4252. 

7.  Because  "death-bed  repentances"  are  al- 

ways to  be  suspi-cted,  4253-4255. 

8.  Because  a   "death-bed    repentance"  may 

be  inefficacious,  4256. 

9.  The  case  of  the  peniicni    tliief  nffords  no 

argument  for  delay,  4257,  4258. 
VII.    HOW    ITS    GKNUINENESS    IS    TO    BE   TESTED. 

[.S:vf«/.w  1430- 1437.] 
I.  Not  by  intensity  of  suffering,  4259-4263, 

1416-1418. 
%,  But  by  its  comprehensiveness  and  definite- 
ness,  4264-4266,  3S32. 

3.  By  its  coniinuousness,  4267,  4268. 

4.  By  its  leading  to  aniendiueit  of  hfe,  4269- 

4272. 

5.  By  its  leading  to  watclifulness  against  sin, 

4273- 
REPROOF. 

I     A  CHRISTIAN  DUTY,  4274-4277. 
II     THINGS    THAT     HINDER     MANY     FROM     PER- 
FORMING ir  : — 

1.  Fear  of  presuming,  4278. 

2.  Fear  of  offending  our  friends,  4279. 

3.  A  con-ciousness  of  personal  imperfections, 

4280. 

III.    DEMANDS    RECTITUDE    IN    THE    REPROVER, 
42S1-42S6,  967. 
HOW  IT  IS  TO   HE  ADMINISTERED:— 


IV, 


1.  Seasonably,  42S7-4290. 

2.  Privately,  4291-4293. 
3-   Discreetly  : — 

(I.)    With  due  res;ard  to  the  social  position 
of  the  offitiider.,  4294. 

(2. )    With  due  rex'tird  to  the  disposition  of 
the  o (fender,  4295,  4296. 

(3.)    With  aue  Tei^ard  to  the  faults  of  the 
offender,  4.2gj,  272. 

(4.)    ll^i/h  frank  acknoivled^nient  of  the  ex- 
cellences of  the  offender,  4298-4300. 

(5.)  So  as  not  to  discourage,  4301. 

(6. )   The  i  in  porta  nee  of  reproin  "g  discreetly, 
4302-4304. 

4.  Faitlifully  and  seriously,  4305-4308. 

5.  With  evident  reluctance,  4309,  4310. 

6.  Affectionately,  431 1-4317. 

V.    THE    MANNER   IN  WHICH   IT  IS   RECEIVED    IS 
A  TEST  OF  CHAt^ACTER,  4318-432O. 
VI.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  l!E  RECEIVED  : 

1.  Willi  self-distrust,  4321. 

2.  Meekly.  4322-4328,  2099, 

3.  Thankfully,  4329-4333- 

RESURRECTION. 

1.  The  moral  reasonableness  of  the  doctrine  of 

the  resurrection  of  the  body,  4334. 

2.  "With    what    body    do    they  come?"  4335- 

4338. 

3.  Ls  less  inexplicable  than  the  creation  of  the 

^ody,     339. 

4.  Analogies  in  nature  and  art,  4340-4346. 

5.  A  necessary  caution  as  to  the  u>e  of  the  fore- 

going illustrations,  4347. 

6.  Re; 'lies  to  objections,  4348-43521 

7.  Its  diverse  issues,  4353. 
S.  Easter-Sunday  4354. 


RICHES.     [See    prosi-erity,    3977-4014;    the 

WORLD,  4967-5065  ] 

1.  Riches  and  virtue  are  not  incompa'.ible,  435 S, 

4356. 

2.  Are  in  tlieniselves  dedrable,  4357. 

3.  Yet  they  are  not  to  be  too  earnestly  desired, 

4358-4365- 

4.  Insatiability    of    the    desire    for    them,    4366. 

[.SVi' a/j^  AVARICE,  400-422.] 

5.  Are  not  to  be  too  ardeiiily  loved,  4367-4369. 

6.  Are  loved  by  many  who  Hatter  themselves  that 

they  are  fiee  fiom  avarice,  4370. 

7.  Reasons  why  they  are  sought,  437 1. 

6.  Do  not  of  themselves  make  us  honourable, 

4372-4376. 
9.  Do  not   necessarily  secure  happiness,  4377- 

43S0.  _ 
10.   Rentier  it  difficult  for  us  to  discern  our  friends, 

43S1. 
n.    How  little  they  can  do  for  us,  4382-4386. 

12.  Expose  us   to  the  envy  and  hostility  of  out 

fellow-men,  4387,  43S8. 

13.  Are  perilous  to  the  soul,  43S9-4397. 

14.  Often  debase  the  chaiacter,  4398,  4399. 

15.  The  vanity  of  heaping  up  riches,  4400-4402. 

16.  Their  uncertainty,  4403-4406,  4979. 

17.  Must  soon  be  relinc|iiished,  4407-441 1. 

18.  P'or  what  purpose  they  aie  entrusted  to  us, 

4412,  4413. 

19.  Are  useless  to  many,  4414. 

20.  How  they  are  to  be  used,  4415-4421. 

21.  Are  worthless  without  godliness,  4422. 

SELF-EXAMINATION. 
I.  its  rarity,  4423. 

II.    WHY  IT  IS  NECESSARY: — 

1.  Because  we  are  naturally  averse  to  it.  4424. 

2.  That  we  may  know  if  we  are  in  the  right 

way,  4425. 

3.  That  we  may  ascertain  if  our  graces  are 

real  and  our  hopes  well  founded,  4426- 
442S. 

4.  Thai  we  may  ascertain  the  hindrances  to 

our  reception  of  grace,  4429. 

5.  That    we    may    be    saved    from    spiritual 

bankruptcy,  4430,  4431. 

6.  That  we  may  spare  ourselves  after-regrets, 

4432,  4758. 

7.  Because  our  hearts  are  so  apt  to  deceive  us, 

4433.  4434- 

8.  Because    there    are  so   many   unsusjiected 

influences  that    tend  to  cause  us  to  go 
astray,  4435. 

9.  Because  the  tendency  of  evil  is  to  increase, 

4436-4439. 

III.  SIIOUI  U  BE  MADE  FREQUENTLY  : — 

1.  Yearly,  4440. 

2.  Daily,  4441-4445. 

IV.  HOW  THIS  DUTY   IS  TO  BE  PERFORMED  ! — 

1.  The  inquiry  must  be  comprehensive,  4446- 

4450- 

2.  It  must  be  particular  and  searching  : — 
(l.)    Taking  note  of  our  imperfections  as 

well  as  of  our  sins,  445 1. 

(2.)  Taking  note  of  the  things  from  7vhich 
we  seek  comfort  in  distress,  4452. 

(3.)  Taking  note  especially  of  the  motives 
and  principles  by  which  we  are  ac- 
tuated, 4453,  4454. 

(4.)  Because  only  ths3  catt  the  exerciu  ii 
made  a  reality,  4455. 


868 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


(5.)  Because  there  may  be  a  form  of  goaliuess 
ivilhout  the poiuer,  4556,  4457. 

(6.)  Because  one  Jiabitnal  fault  viay  vitiate 
the  whote  lije,  4458. 

(7.)  Because  only  thus  can  our  sincerity  be 
proved,  4459. 

3.  It  must  extend  to  the  outward  life,  4460, 

4461. 

4.  It  iiiu-^t  be  made  with   Scriptural  intelli- 

gence, 4462,  2525. 

5.  The    right    standard    must   be    employed, 

4463-4466. 

T.    MISTAKKS  lO   BE  GUARDED  AGAINST  : — 

1.  Judi^mentsare  not  to  he  founded  on  merely 

transient  emotions,  4407,  2525. 

2.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  tliat  self-examina- 

tion is  only  a  means  to  an  end,   4468, 
4469. 

3.  It  must  not  be  conducted  so  as  to  become 

morbid  and  hurtful,  4470-4474. 

4.  The    disparity    between    our    desires   after 

holiness  and    our  actual    attainments  is 
not  to  drive  us  to  despair,  4475. 

sIN. 

1.    A  UNIVERSAL  CONSCIOUSNESS,  4476. 
11.    THE  EVIL  OE  SIN,  4477. 
III.    IS  HATEFUL  TO  GOD: — 

1.  As   a   defiance   of  His   authority,  4478, 

4479-. 

2.  As  an  infraction  of  the  moral  order  of 

the  universe,  44S0. 

3.  Yet  it  does  not  necessarily  cause  Him  to 

hale  tlie  sinner,  4481. 

IV,    IS  HURTFUL  TO  MAN: — 

1.  It  hopelessly  enslaves  him,  4482-44S4, 

2714,  2798. 

2.  It  pollutes  and  corrup's  the  soul,  4485- 

44S7,  4625,  4626. 

3.  It  forfeits  all  our  claims  upon  God  as  our 

Creator,  44SS,  44S9. 

4.  It  is  the  source  cf  all  temporal  evil,  4490. 

V.    ITS  DECEITFULNESS,  4491-4495. 
VI.    ITS  FOl.LY,  4496,  4219-4224. 
VII.    REASONS  FOR  SHUNNING  IT: — 

I.   Because  when  it  has  once  ensnared  us, 

e-cnpe    from    it    is   impossible,    4497- 

4499- 
a.  Because  when  it  has  once  ensnared  us, 

the  very  desire  to  escape  may  be  lost, 

4500,  4501- 
3.  Because,  even  if  we  escape  from  it,  some 

of  its    effects  are  eternal,   4502,  4503, 

4209,  4225,  42S8. 
VIIL    ONE  SIN:— 

1.  Is  a  transn:ression  of  the  whole  law,  4504- 

4506,  3187. 

2.  Makes  \>ay  for  more,  4507-4509. 

3.  Troves  the  whole  bent  of  the  heart  and 

life  to  be  sinful,  4510. 

4.  Is  a  proof  that  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 

is  not  yet  risen  upon  us,  45 11. 

5.  Is  sufficient  to  ruin  the  soul,  4512,  2330, 

3187,  4583-4586. 

15.    LITTLE  SINS: — 

1.  Lead  to  greater,  45 13-45 18. 

2.  Are  most  numerous,  4519,  4520. 

3.  Are    most    dangerous,    4521-4525,    429, 

2705,  4720-4725,  4S97.  4898- 

4.  Destroy,  4526-4532. 

5.  Lead  to  hell,  4533. 


X.    CUSTOM   IN  SINNING: — 

1.  Increasingly  strengthens  all  sinful  habitt 

and     dispositions,     4534-45^7,    4245, 
4246. 

2.  Sears  tlie  conscience,  4538. 

3.  Renders  men  insensible  to  saving  influ- 

ences, 4539,  4540. 

XI.    PRESUMPTUOUS  SINS: — 

1.  Destroy  assurance,  454X. 

2.  Destroy  tlie  moral  sense,  4542. 
3-   Tend  to  increase,  4543. 

4.  Greatly  provoke  God  to  anger,  4544. 

5.  Call  for  profound  repentance,  4545. 

XII.    SECRET  SINS,  4546-4549. 
XIII.     BESETTING  SINS,  455O,   455I. 
XIV.    ORIGINAL  SIN: — 

1.  Is  an  indisputable  fact,  4552,  4553. 

2.  Is  implied  in  the  mission  and  teaching  of 

Christ,  4554. 

3.  Cleaves  to  us  till  death,  4555. 

4.  Necessitates      continual       watchfulness, 

4556. 

5.  It  deserveth  God's  wrath  and  damnation, 

4557- 

6.  Yet   it  does  not  exclude  children   from 

covenant  mercies,  4558. 
XV.    SINS  OF  OMISSION,  4559-4561. 
XVI.    SINS  OF  THE  PAST,  4562,  4S87,  4899. 
XVII.    SIN  IN  BELIEVERS: — 

I.   Is  especially  conspicuous,  4563. 


Is  exceeding  sinful,  4564. 

Is  especially  injurious  to  others,  4565. 

Brin<,'s   dishonour  on  the  Gospel,  4566, 

4567. 
Dishonours  God,  456S. 
Diiilionours  Christ,  4569. 
Is  specially  hatelul  in  the  sight  of  God, 

4570- 
A  man   may  sin,  and  yet  be  a  child  of 
God,  4571-4573. 
9.   Is  but  momeniary,  4574. 

10.  Afterwards  makes  them  more  watchful, 

4575- 

11.  The  fact  that  God  overrules  the  sins  of 

His  people  for  good  sliould  not  rendei 
us  the  less  watciiful  against  sin,  4576. 

12.  Should   inspire  the  ungodly  with  appre- 

hension, 4577 

XVIII.   SHOULD      BE      INSTANTLY     AND     UTTERLY 
FORSAKEN  : — 

1.  Because  sin  in  all  its  forms  is  the  ruin  of 

the  soul,  4578-4581. 

2.  Because  one  sin  leads  to  another,  4582. 

3.  Because   even  one  sin  is  enough   to  en- 

slave and  destroy  the  soul,  45S3-4586. 

4.  Because  ou:  next  sin  may  bring  down  on 

us   the    ven_;eance    we  have    long    de- 
served, 4587,  45S8. 
Because   sin   wa-i    the  cause  of  Christ's 

death,  4589,  1590. 
Becau-e  God  liates  it,  4591,  2296-2301. 
Because  sin  in  all  its  forms  and  degrees  is 

hateful,  4592-4595,  4117,  41 18. 
Because  the   consequences  of  sin  are  so 

far-reaching,  4596. 
It  must  I  e  renounced  in  the  heart  as  well 

as  in  the  outward  life,  4597  4602, 3209, 

4085-4088. 

ITS  PUNISHMENT: — 

I,    Is  certain,    4603-4610,    2296-330I,  3053^ 
3250,  4724. 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


869 


2.  Whatever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap,  4611-4614. 

XX.    CONVICTION  OF  SIN,  4613,  4614. 

SOUL.    THE 

1.  Its  mysteriousness,  4615. 

2.  Iiivisiule  yet  real,  4616-4618. 

3.  Its  powers,  4619. 

4.  Is  in  most  men  incompletely  developed,  4620- 

4622. 

5.  Is  developed  by  the  cares  of  life,  4623. 

6.  Should  be  carefully  guarded  from  injury,  46^4. 

7.  Is  deyradeii  and  ruined  by  sin,  4625,  4626. 

8.  Its  true  portion,  4627-4630. 

9.  Its  preciousness,  4631-4633. 

10.  Its  salvation   should  be   llie  first  buxiness  of 

life,  4634. 

11.  Itslo^s,  4635-4637. 

12.  Its  relation;^  to  the  body  : — 

(l.)    Their  diverse  ten, loiciesy  4638,  4639. 

(2.)   7 he  soul  should  have  the  pre-eminence, 

4640. 
(3.)    The  Jolly  of  caring  more  for  the  body  than 

the  sold,  4641-4645. 
(4.)   The  loss  of  the  soul  carri/s  with  it  the  Ion 

of  the  body,  4646,  4647. 
(5.)  As  the  body  and  soul  Are  partners  in  sin, 

so  shall  they  be  also  in  suffering,  4648. 

13.  Its  immortality:  — 

(l.)  A  7V0I id-wide  ccfrv'iction,  4649,  4650. 

(2.)  Influence  of  th^  ilcpe  of  immortality,  465 1, 

4652. 
(3.)  Is  not  incredjble,  4653,  3407-341 1,  3413, 

3414- 
(4.)    The  soul  is  not  destroyed  by  its  separation 

from  the  body.  4654-4657,  '?412. 
{5.)    The  soul  contains  iviUiin  itself  prophecies 

ofi?nmoi-;ality,  4658-4663. 
(6.)    The  condition  of  the  soul  in  the  future  life, 

4664. 
{7.)    J'^'/t'  developments  it  renders  possible,  4665, 

3414- 
(8.\    Tf  an  error,  a  delightful  error,  4666. 
(9  )    Uo^M  faith  in  the  souFs  iviTnortality  should 

tnanfest  itself,  4667. 

risMP'r  \TioN. 

I.  >VHy  IT  IS  permitted: — 

1.  1'hnt  our  hearts  may  be  revealed  to  us, 

466S. 

2.  Tliat  our  characters  mny  be  tested,  4669, 

4670,  2676,  2684-26S7. 

3.  Tliat  our  vii,'i',ance  may  be  increased,  4671. 

4.  That  our  aEsurance  may  be  stren>;tliened, 

4672. 

n.    HOW  IT  ASSAILS  US  : — 

1.  Under  false  masks,  4673-4676. 

2.  In  many  forms,  4677,  46 78. 

3.  In  forms  specially  adapted   to  onr  weak- 

ness, 4679-46S3,  1665,  1669-1672. 

4.  From  opposite  quarter.^,  46S4. 

ni     IN  WHAT  ITS  STRENGTH  LIKS,   46S5-469O. 
rV.   REASONS  FOR  SHUNNING  IT: — 

1.  Because  our  safety  lies  in  avoiding  it,  4691- 

4700,  3252. 

2.  Because   exposure  to  it  is  perilous,  4701- 

470S,  3253-3255. 

3.  Because  we  are  unable  to  resist  it,  4709- 

4714. 

4.  Because    to    exnose   ourselves   to   it   is  to 

tempt  God  to  leave  us,  4715,  3S57. 


5.  Because   prevention   is   better   than  cure, 

4716. 

6.  Because  if  we  expose  ourselves  to  it.  and 

are    overcome    by    it,    we   are    without 
excuse,  4717,  4273. 

V.   THINGS  THAT  E.M'OSE  US  TO  TEMPTATION:— i 

1.  Idleness,  471S. 

2.  Self-conlidc-nce,  4719. 
VI.  sMALu  temptations: 

1.  Are  most  numerous,  4720. 

2.  Aie  most  dangerous,  4721-4725,429,3802. 

3.  Are  sufficient   to    overthrow    most    uf  us, 

4726. 

VII.    ITS  REL.VITON  TO  MORAL  RESPONSIBILITY;  — 

1.  Is  no  excuse  for  sin,  4727-4729. 

2.  Even  this  invalid  plea  of  '"  temptation"  is 

often  falsely  uri,'ed,  4730. 

VIII.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  RESISI  ED: — 

1.  Tromptly,    4731-4736,    1 844-1847,    2704, 

2705.  4482.  4497,  4500,  4501. 

2.  Unhe.sitaiingly.  4737,  473S. 

3.  Uiicomprouiisingly,  4739-4746. 

4.  llopefullv,  4747. 

IX.    HOW  IT  IS  TO  BE  OVERCOME: — 

1.  ]*y  being  forearmed,  4748-4751. 

2.  By  turning  our  attention  to  other  subjects, 

4752. 

3.  By   considering   whether   we  are  able    to 

bear  the  burden  of  sin,  4753. 

4.  By    regarding   its    ultimate    issues,   4754- 

4757. 

5.  By  self-examination,  4758. 

6.  By  humility,  4759. 

7.  By  instant  recourse  to  the  throne  of  grace, 

4760-4762. 

8.  By  fervent  ]irayer,  4763. 

9.  By  exeicising  faith  in  God,  4764,  4765. 
10.   By  quenching   it  in   the  blood  of  Christ, 

4766. 

X.    CONSOLATIONS  FOR  THE  TEMPTED  : — 

1.  Temptation  is  not  sin,  4767. 

2.  Temptations  are   specially  experienced  by 

God's  children,  476S-4776. 

3.  Temptation    is    not    necessarily    hurtful, 

4777-4779- 

4.  Temptation    develops    and    displays   the 

sj^jiiitual  exjellences    of  God's    people, 
4780-4788. 

5.  Gofl  sympathises  with  His  tempted  people, 

47S9,  4790. 

6.  God  succours   His  tempted  people,  479I- 

4794- 

7.  Temptations  are  of  short  duration,  4795. 

8.  Temptations  promote  God's  glory,  4796- 

4800. 

XI.    DUTIES  OF  THE  TEMPTED  : — 

1.  They  are  not  to  permit  temptation  to  cause 

them  to  doubt  their  sonship,  4801-4803. 

2.  More  earnest  prayer,  4S04. 

3.  Confidence  in  the  sufficiency  of  the  divine 

grace,  4805. 
XII.    DELIVERANCE  FROM  TEMPTATION  : — 

I.    Is  an  undeserved  mercy,  4806. 

XIII.    IMMUNITY  FROM  TEMPTATION  : — 

I.   How  it  is  to  be  secured:  — 

(l.)  By  ftllinq-  the  heart  with  thoughts  of 

the  love  of  Christ,  4807. 
(2. )  By  growth  in  grace,  4808. 

TRINITY.     THE 

I.   An  object  of  faith,  4809,  481a 


Eyo 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


2.  Is  incomprehensible  by  u^,  4811,  4S12. 

3.  Yet  it  is  not  incredible,  4813,  4S14.     \See  also 

§§851,852,  2229,  2241.1 

4.  The  difficulty  of  defining;  "Unity,"  4815. 

5.  Various  aitenipts  to  illustrate  the  mystery  of 

the  Trinity,  4816-4821. 

TRUTH. 

1.  lis  characteristics  : — 
(I.)  It  is  simple.  4S22. 

(2.)  //  is  haniioiiioiis,  4823. 

(3.)  It  is  self-vianifesting^  4S24. 

(4.)  //  appeiils  to  the  underslatxiittg,  4825. 

(5.)  It  is  a.ivays   and  everywhere   the  same, 

4826. 
(6.)  //  IS  infinite,  4827. 
(7.)  //  is  invincible  and  immortal,  4828-4832, 

1375.  1376. 

2.  Its  rela'.ioii  to  goodness,  4833-4836. 

3.  Its  relation  to  the  human  mind  : — 
(l.)    The  mind  craves  for  it,  4S37. 

(2  )    \et  it  is  often  unpopular,  4838-4S40. 
(3.)  //  is  difficult  to  fix  it  on  the  mind,  4841. 

4.  Its  importance  : — 

(l  )  All  truth  ?s  importajit,  4842,  4843. 

(2.)    Yet  all  truths  are  not  all  equal  in  value, 

4S44. 
(3.)  Some  truths  are  vital,  4845. 
(4.)   The  most  important  truths  are  within  the 

reach  of  all,  4S46. 
(5  )  Seemingly  slight  departures  from  truth  are 

not  slight  evils,  4847,  484S. 

5.  Controversies  coiicerniii;^'  truih  : — 

(i.)  Are  not  to  be  eitteied  uton  rashly,  4849. 
(2.)  Are  not  to  deter  us  from  the  service  of  God, 

4850,4851. 
(3  )  Are  no  excuse  for  an  irreligious  life,  4852. 

6.  How  it  is  to  be  sought : — 

(I.)  Diligently,  4853,  3481-3484. 

(2.)  Sincerely,  4854. 

(3.)   Impartially,  4855. 

(4  )   I'l-ayerfitlly,  4856. 

(5.)   Courageously,  4857 

(6.)   Tersnieiinglv,  4858.  4859. 

7.  Must  he  personally  applied,  4S60-4S63. 

8.  W  Ivn    once    attained,    is    never    to    be    sur- 

rendered ;  — 

(l.)  Not  even  when  its  advocates  prove  incon- 
sistent and  univorthy,  4S64-4866. 

(2.)  Not  even  when  it  is  assailed  by  doubt,  4867, 
4S6S. 

(3.)  Not  even  when  its  evidences  are  for  a  time 
obscured,  4869-4870. 

(4.)  Not  even  when  our  reasons  for  holding  it 
are  disproved,  487  I . 

9.  Importance  of  a  comprehensive  and  methodical 

siudy  of  iruth,  4872-4874. 

10.  Its  gradual. development,  4875. 

11.  New  truths  are  to  be  welcomed,  4876-4878, 

1390. 

WATCHFULNESS. 

i.    EXPLAINED.  4.879. 
II.    WHY  WATCHFULNESS  IS  NECESSARY: — 

1.  Because  our  enemy  is  always  awake,  48S0, 

2695. 

2.  Because  no  man  is  free  from  temptation, 

4881,  4882,  2701,  4470,  4473. 

3.  Because  we  are  never  safe  from  temptation, 

48S3,  4884,  3709,  4750 


4.  Becau'^e    the  path  of  duly  is  so  narrow, 

4S85. 

5.  Because  of  the  difficulty  of  the  Christian's 

task,  4S86. 

6.  Because  of  the   tendency  of  the  heart   to 

recur  to  its  old  sins,  4S87,  2701,  4556. 

7.  Because  one  hour  of  heedlessness  may  be 

the  ruin  of  the  soul.  4888-4890,  4499. 

III.    OUR    VIOII.ANCE   MUST    BE  COMPREHENSIVE, 

4891-4894. 
rV.    THINGS    AGAINST    WHICH    WE    NEED    TO   BK 

SPECIALLY  WATCHFUL  : — 

1.  Our  senses,  4895. 

2.  Our  weak  places,  4896. 

3.  Little  sins,  4897-4S98,  4513-4533- 

4.  Our  old  sins,  4899. 

5.  Beloved  and    besetting   sins,  4900,  4500, 

4501.  4537- 

6.  New  sins.  4901. 

V.    TIMES    WHEN    WATCHFULNESS   IS  SPECIALLY 
NECESSARY,  4902-4905. 
VI.    MUST    BE   CONJOINED    WITH     PRAYBR,    4906- 

4910,   3856. 
VII,    ITS  ADVANTAGES.  491  I,   4912. 

Vlll.    WATCH  FULNKSS    AND     HAPPINESS    ARE    >fOT 
INCOMPATIBLE,  49I3. 
IX.    A  CAUTION,  4914. 

WICKED.     THE 

I.    THEIR  GUILT  : — 

1.  Tliey  are  practical  atheists,  4915^ 

2.  Tlicir  moral  nature  is  corrupt,  4916, 

3.  They  cleave   to  the  world   as  their  chief 

good,  4917. 

4.  They  reject  Christ  and  His  salvation,  4918. 

II.    THEIR  FOLLY  : 

1.  In  neglecting  the  great  calling  of  their  life, 

4919. 

2.  In  sacrificing  eternity  to  time,  4920,  4921. 

3.  In  provoking  God  to  anger,  4922. 

4.  In  deferring  re)>entance,  4923. 

5.  In  despising  God's  threatenings,  4924. 

6.  In    thoughtlessly   following   the   multitude 

who  do  evil,  4925. 

7.  In  their  heedlessness  of  the  plainest  warn- 

ings, 4926,  4927. 

8.  In  wasting  upon  trifles  the  time  that  should 

be  used  in  securing  the  salvation  of  the 
soul,  4928. 

9.  In  using  that  time  to  prepare  for  themselves 

future  misery,  4929,  2S07,  4491,  4496. 
ID.   In  shrinking  from  hell  but   not  from  sin, 

4930-. 

11.  In  glorying  in  their  prosperity,  4931. 

12.  In    misiakiiig  their   prosperity    as    an  evi- 

dence of  the  Divine  favour,  4932,  4933, 
4943.  4948. 

13.  In    expecting   at   last   to    be   admitted    to 

heaven,  4934,  2730. 
III.    THEIR  MISERY  : — 

1.  They  are  ignoiant  of  the  Author  of  their 

being,  the  ])urpose  of  their  existence, 
and  the  source  of  true  joy  ;  and  are  thus 
pitiable  as  moral  idiots,  4935,  4936. 

2.  They  are  morally  short-sighted,  4937. 

3.  They  are   excluded  from   the    Divine  pro- 

mises, and  exposed  to  the  Divine  wrath, 
4938. 

4.  Their  happiness  is  short-lived,  and  is  fuU 

of  drawbacks  while  it  lasts,  4939-4942 

5.  Their  happiness   is  short-lived,  and  is  V' 


INDEX  OF  ARRANGEMENT. 


S/r 


evidence  of  God's  abhorrence  of  them, 
4943-4948. 

6.  Their  consciences  are  seared,  4949. 

7.  Even  to  Divine  influences  they  are  insen- 

sible, 4950-4953- 

8.  They  are  led  captive  by  the  devil  at  his 

will,  4954. 

9.  They   carry    with    them    the   elements    of 

misery,  4955. 

10.  There  awaits   them  a  terrible  hour  wlien 

they  will  be  untleceived  as  to  their  true 
stat'e,  4956,  4957. 

11.  Their  destruction  is  sure,  4958-4960. 

12.  Hence   their  temporal  prosperity  is  not  to 

lead  us  to  euvy  them,  4961-4966,  190- 
196. 

WORLD.     THE 

I.    ITS  HONOURS  AND  PLEASURES.       [.SV^  RICHES, 
4355-4422.] 

1.  \Ve  t;an  call  veiy  few  of  them  really  our 

own,  4967,  496S. 

2.  They  are  unsatislying,  4969-4974. 

3.  Tliey  are  transitory,  4975-49S9.  3036. 

4.  How  the  Christian  estimates  them,  4990- 

4993- 

5.  When  they  become  hurtful  to  us,4994,4495- 

n.    ITS  DELUSIVENESS  : — 

1.  It  is  solid  and  valuable  only  in  its  outward 

appearance,  4996,  4997. 

2.  It  shows  its  best  si'le  to  us  at  the  begin- 

ning, 4998.  4999- 

3.  It  promises  more  than  it  can  perform,  5000. 

4.  It  lures  us  on  with  false  hopes,  5001. 

5.  It  will  not  bear  exposure  to  the  lii^hf,  5002. 

6.  It  deludes  that  it  may  degrade  and  destroy, 

5003- 

7.  How  we  are  to  treat  it,  5004. 

8.  The  folly  of  those  who  are  ensnared  by  it, 

5005. 

ni.    ITS  PURSUIT  BY  THE  UNGODLY  : — 

1.  Their  earnestness  in  its  pursuit,  5006,  5007. 

2.  Their  folly  in  its  pursuit,  500S-5018. 

3.  Their  sinfulness  in  its  pursuit,  5019,  5020. 

4.  In  the  end  it  will  profit  them  nothing,  5021, 

5022. 
5    How  it  will  seem  to  them  in  the  hour  of 
death,  5023-5025. 

rr.    THE   CHRISTIAN  AND  THE  WORLD  : — 

1.  While  in   the  world,  he  is  not  to  be  of  it, 

5026-5032. 

2.  In  what    Christian  nonconformity    to    the 

world  consists  : — 
(l,)  Not  in  going  out  of  the  world,  5033. 
(2.)  Not  in  cultivating  Angularities  oj  (iirss 
or  nuniners,  but  in  viak  «;'  the  will 
of  Christ  the  rule  of  our  life,  5034. 
(3.)  In  abstaining  front  tinneiessary  inter- 
\  coicrse  miih  the  men   of  the  world, 

5C3575037- 
(4.)  In  seta  Jig  before  us  as  the  ends  of  life 
the  atlainment  of  eternal  bit-sst'dness, 
the  promotion  of  the  Divine  glory. 


and  the  advancement  of  the  welfare 
of  our  fellow-men,  and  in  abstaining 
from  those  pursuits  and  pleasures 
that  are  inconsistent  therewith,  5038- 
5040. 

{5.)  In  !:c-ep':no  the  affections  diseni;agedfro/n 
the  world,  5041-5043,  35-38. 
3.   Why  he  is  not  to  set  his  affections  on  things 
below  : — 

(l.)  Because  the  wraith  and  the  honours  oj 
the  world  are  not  essential  cither  to 
our  dignity  or  happiness,  5044. 

(2.)  Because  their  comparative  unimpor- 
tance is  shown  by  the  fact  that  they 
are  bes!o7ved  on  the  good  and  on  Lite 
bad  indiscriminately,  5045-5047. 

(3. )  Because  they  will  not  bear  close  and  in- 
telligent exaininiition,  5048. 

(4.)  Because  they  are  perilous  to  the  soul^ 
^  5049-5059. 

(5.)  Because  tiiey  can  be  serviceable  to  us 
only  for  a  very  little  while,  5060. 

(6.)  Because  if  we  do  so  we  shall  risk  their 
continuance,  and  shall  certainly  de- 
stroy our  spiritual  peace,  5061. 

(7.)  Because  God  has  already  bestowed  on 
tis  a  nobler  portion,  5062. 

(8.)  Beiause  zve  have  assured  hope  of  a 
better  inheritance,  5063,  5064. 

(9. )  Because  we  thus  dishonour  Cod  Himself, 
5065. 

WORSHIP.    PUBLIC 

1.  Characteristics  of  acceptable  worship  : — 

( I . )  It  is  offerci  1  by  men  who  love  and  serve  God, 

5066,  5067. 
(2.)  It  must  be  intelligent,  ro68. 
{3.)  //   must   be  sincere  and  spiritual,  5069, 

5070. 
(4.)  //  must  be  conducted  with  reverence,  5071- 

5074.  3798,  3799- 

2.  Reasons  for  maintaining  and  observing  it  : — 
(l.)   Jt  is  peculiarly  accep'able  to  God,  5075. 

(2. )  It  is  one  of  the  chif  channels  ofconuiuciica' 
tion  between  our  souls  a7id  God,  5076, 
5077,  3867. 

(3.)  //  quickens  the  devotional  feelings,  5078, 
3S66. 

(4.)  //  develops  and  ennobles  the  inte'lectual 
and  moral  powers,  5079,  3S6S-3871. 

(5.)  It  affords  ot^portunity  for  intercessory 
prayer,  5080. 

(6.)  It  lays  the  foundation  for  heavenly  friend- 
ships, 5081. 

3.  How  often  ought  we  to  attend  public  worship? 

5082. 

4.  Preparation  should  be  made  for  it,  508^5085. 

5.  While  we  are  engaged  in  it,  our  thoughts  must 

be  kept  under  control,  5086,  5087. 

6.  Common  sins  in  public  worship,  5088-5091. 

7.  By  what  rule  the  maieriil   accompaniments  o{ 

worship  are  to  be  jiulged,  5092, 

8.  Necessity  of  a  suitable  budding,  5093,  509^ 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


Abuse  in  Arcrnnient,  301. 
Accidents.     There  are  no,  4024. 
Actions:  liow  tliey  are  to  be  estimated,  814, 
Adam  and  Eve,  4712. 

„     his  tran&i^ressions,  33S9. 
Admonition.     See  Reproof,  4274-4333. 
Adoption,  its  signs,  327-334,  2213. 
Adoration,  its  reasonableness,  3819. 
Adversity,  16-30. 

„  not   necessarily   a    sign   of    God's  dis- 

pleasure, 1S9-196. 
Advice  is  disregarded  by  the  young,  4714, 

,,       is  easily  given,  55. 
Affections.     Tlie,  31-46. 

„  how  they  are  quickened,  34S8-3491. 

,,  Mistakes  concerning  the,  41S8-4190. 

Affliction,  47-234. 

„         a   season  when   we  specially   need   the 

help  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  2876. 
„         its  result :  prayerfulness,  3719. 
„         Ministry  of  hope  in,  2913-2921. 
„         shows  us  our  Iriends,  2152-2159. 
AflBictions  are  outnumbered  by  mercies,  2307. 

,,  how  they  are  to  be  overcome,  2771-73. 

,,  their  design  :  to  punish  iniquity,  2293. 

Agnosticism,  unscientific,  366. 
Allegories,  15. 

Almsgiving.    See  Ben(f.cence,  444-463. 
Ambition,  237-251. 

,,  a  hindrance  to  usefulness,  2967. 

Analogies  :  must  not  be  pushed  too  far,  389. 
Angels,  252-260. 
Anger,  261-286. 

„      God's,  2288,  2294. 
,,       is  murder  in  the  germ,  4582. 
Anxiety:  its  folly,  2372,  2373. 

,,         its  hurifulness,  2053.  2075,  2058. 
„         its  sinfulness,  4054-4056. 
Apostacy.    See  BacksUUas  and  Backsliding,  423-29. 
Apostles.     The,  287-293. 
Appearances  are  deci]nive,  1680,  3000-3005. 
Appropriating  faith,  1952. 
Architecture.     Church,  5093,  5094. 
Arguments,  294-30^. 

,,  need  to  be  understood,  4873, 

Artificial  piety,  3945,  3946. 
Assurance,  304-352. 

„  is  compatible  with  temptation,  480I. 

„  is  destroyed  by  presumptuous  sins,  454I. 

„  is  frequently  strengthened   by   tempta- 

tion, 4672. 
„  is  not  identical  with  faith,  2005. 

„  is  not  in  itself  enough,  4140. 

„  its   soundness   should  be   tested,  2931, 

2932. 
ff  reason    for   cherishing    it  :    growth    in 

grace,  24S3-24S8. 
„  should    be    well    founded,    4426-4428, 

4433.  4434.  4462-4466. 
Astronomical  objections  to  ChrHtianity,  397,  398. 
Atheism,  353-373. 


Atheism  :  its  folly,  4015,  4016,  4158. 

,,         is  natural  to  the  human  heart,  804. 

„  Practical,  2672,  4915. 

„         Secret,  3207. 
Atomic  Theory.     The,  354,  356-35S. 
Atonement.     The,  374-399. 
Austeiity,  a  bleniisn,  210a. 
Avarice,  400-422. 

,,        makes  men  reckless,  I55S« 

,,        its  enslaving  power,  4917. 

Backsliders,  423-426. 
Backsliding,  427-429. 

„  its  causes,  4097,  4393,  4394. 

,,  how  it  is  to  be  avoided,  4430,  443f| 

4436,  4439- 
Bad  habits:  how  they  are  acquired,  4515-4525. 
Beauty,  430-437. 
Beginnint^s.     Kight:  their  importance,  3227. 

,,  .Small,  are  not  to  be  despised,  1696. 

Belief,  43S-443- 
Believers.     Sin  in,  4563. 
Beneficence,  444-464. 

,,  is  true  service  to  Christ,  965. 

„  should  be  disinterested,  962, 

Benevolence,  465  -467. 

,,  is  not  the  whole  of  religion,  414I. 

Bereavement,  468-477. 

,,  its  uses,  2739. 

Besetting  sins,  4550,  4551. 
Bible.  The,  478-646- 

,,         Commentaries  on,  4177* 
„         how  it  is  to  be  read  :  courageously,  4857. 
>t  ,.  „  dilii^ently,  4S53. 

„  „  „  impartially,  4855. 

„  „  „  prayerfully,  4856. 

„  „  „  perseveringly,4858, 

4859. 
„  „  ^  sincerely,  4854. 

„  „  „  with    personal   ap- 

plication    of     its 
truths,  4860-4863. 
„         its  descriptions  of  heaven,   2714-2717, 

2719. 
„         its  revelations  are  necessarily  imperfect, 

2715,  2716. 
„         its  spiritual  teaching,  3155. 
Blessings  are  olten  overlooked  or  forgotten,  1685, 

1686. 
Boasting,  1987. 
Body.     The,  647-654. 

,,  an  essential  part  of  human  nature,  844. 

,,  Kesurreciion  of  the,  4334-4354. 

Body  and  Soul.     The,  651-654. 
Books,  655-686. 

,,      how  soon  they  perish,  501. 
Business  customs,  3937. 

„       is  not  to  be  allowed  to  engrois  the  wtioit 

of  our  time,  5054. 
„       Religion  and,  4196-4202, 
„       Sharp  practice  in,  4525. 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


^11 


Callousness  is  not  patience,  3649. 

Calmness  in  argument,  300. 

Calvinistic  and  Arminian  Controversy.    The,  1390. 

Care  h.iunts  the  wicked,  2294. 

Cares  :  how  are  we  to  escape  from  them,  277S. 

„      of  life  :  their  beneficial  influence,  4623. 

„       Worldly  :  hostile  to  the  spiritual  life,  3861, 

5053- 
II  M  their  folly,  5014. 

,1  M  their  profitlessness,  500S. 

Careless.     The,  6S7-705. 
Carnal  mind.     The,  2677,  2678. 
Ceremonies  to  be  fixed  by  the  Church,  1 189. 

„  See  also  Forms  and  Ceremonies,  2077-92. 

Chance.     Creadon  by,  353-359. 
Character,  704-722. 

„  disclosed  by  death,  1551-1553,  1557. 

„  how   far   it    is   inlluenced    by  education, 

1769,  1771,  1774. 
M  how  it  is  to  be  ennobled,  3742,  3745. 

„  Influence  of  circumstances  en,  3563. 

„  is  perfected  by  adversity  and  alHiction, 

21,  212,  215. 
.,  is  tested  by  adversity,  3982,  3983. 

„  Christian,  723-748. 

p,  „  Germs  of,  3056. 

(t  M  how  depth  is  to  be  given  to  it, 

3497- 
tt  t>  in  heaven.  2740-2743. 

-»  tt  is  slowly  developed,  3291-93. 

tf  „  is  tested  by  temptation,  2684- 

26S7,  4699,  4670. 
ff  „         its  influence,  1090. 

„  „         its  ultimate  triumph,  2454. 

ff  „         will  be  brought  up  to  the  Di- 

vine idea  of  perfectness,  215. 
Charity.    See  Beneficence  and  Benevolence,  444-467. 
Cheerfulness,  749-762, 
Childliood,  763-765. 
Children,  766-834. 
Christ,  835-9S5. 

,,      brought  life  and  immortality  to  light,  3415. 

„       His  death,  1651. 

„       His  incarnation    the  distinctive  doctrine  of 

Christianity,  II37. 
y.       His  love  :  its  conquering  power,  3352,  3353, 

3356. 
t,  ,,        its  constraining  power,  3578. 

»,  ,,        transcends  ours,  3351. 

„      His  meekness,  960. 
„       His  miracles,  3527,  3529,  3539,  3541,  3543, 

3547- 
„       His  satisfaction  for  sin,  1140. 
„       His  sympathy  for  children,  765. 
„       our  liigh  Priest,  379. 
I,       our  surety,  392. 

„       Rejection  of,  2678,  2808,  2809,  2811. 
„       the  Rock  of  Ages,  1967. 
„       the  .Sacrifice  for  sinners,  2321. 
„       the  Way,  1986. 

„       the  wisdom  of  His  appeals  to  His  disciples, 
4 1 68. 
Christian.    The,  9S6-1119. 

„  his  afflictions,  3674,  3699. 

,,  his   communion    with    God,   4155, 

4162,  4146,  4149,  417S. 
f(  his  confidence  in  prayer,  3S24-3826. 

f,  his  duty    to   the    Church   and    the 

world,  4137-4139. 
„  his  example,  3934-3937. 

„  his  failures,  2524,  ?i)29. 


Christian.  The,  his  hatred  of  sin,  41 17,  41 18. 

II  his  relation  to  the  world,  5026- S03a 

M  liis  sins,   1648,  4563-4577. 

,t  his  supreme  motive,  3642. 

fi  how  tlie  world  will  judge  of  him 

2397- 
(I  Infirmities  of,  2313, 

t)  is  a  temple  of  God,  2902. 

„  longs  for  heaven,  2780-2787. 

>,  reasonableness  (jf  his  confidence  in 

Christ,  2908. 
It  the   wisdom  of  his   choice,  4156- 

.    .  4158,  4178. 

Christian  experience,  1141. 
,,         graces,  2972. 
„         life,  4771,  4775. 
,,         service,  966. 

„  workers,    IO93,     1094,    2200,  2945,   2948, 

2966,  2967,  3713. 
Christianity,  11 20- 11 69. 

,,  can    only    be    known    experimentally. 

2SS1-2SS6. 
,,  contrasted  with  heathenism.  959. 

„  its  enn()i)ling  influence,  1084,  4160. 

„  its  evidences,  3529,  3555,  4869,  4871. 

„  how  its  truth  is  to  i)e  tested,  2019. 

„  in  what  sense  it   rejects  good   works, 

2396,  2414. 
„  is  incomprehensible  by  unspiritual  men, 

1087. 
„  is  not  incredible,  393-398,  2249. 

„  its  power,  2446. 

„  its  relation   to  the  Mosaic  law,  3215, 

3216. 
„  Real  and  nominal,  I121. 

„  True,  4183. 

,,  why  it  is  hated,  369. 

,,  v/hy  some  reject  it,  2274, 

Church.     The,  1170-1251. 

,,  its  membership,  3314,  3315. 

,,  Joining.     See  Frofessioti,  3903-76. 

Comfort,  1252-1285. 

,,         for  Christian  workers,  3713. 
,,         for  desponding  suppliants,  38S0-3882. 
,,         for  the  lowly,  4018. 
„  is  often  foolishly  desired,  2610-2613. 

„         is  the  portion  of  the  sinceie,  3010,  3015. 
„         for  those  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  sinful- 
ness, 329. 
„         for  the  tempted,  4767-4800. 
,,         how  it  may  be  increased,  2014-201 7. 
,,         how  some  lose  it,  3460,  3461. 

Worldly,  4973,  4975,  4984,  4987. 
Commandments.    God's  :  are    not    grievous,    3202, 

4173- 
„  „       have  their  source  in  love, 

3200,  3201,  361 1. 
»«  „       their  mercilulness,    3198, 

3199. 
„  The  ten  :  the  centre  of  the  Mosaic 

law,  3216. 
Commentaries,  4177. 
Communion    with    God,    221,    3507,    3508,    2863, 

4155,  4162,  4178. 
Communism.     Christian,  1240. 
Companionship.    Evil,  21 14,  2 123-2 148,  4693,  470a 
Comparisons:  need  to  be  made  with  caution,  3S9. 
Conceit  is  an  evidence  of  ignorance,  2970. 
Conduct:  how  it  may  i)e  regulated,  3567-3570. 

„         is  not  an  infallible  test  of  character,  1431, 
„        the  best  evidence  of  character,  800. 


8/4 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


Confession  :  essential  to  forj^iveness,  1 146. 

„  is  the  first  condition  of  peace,  4724. 

,,  its  wisdom,  4614. 

Confession  of  Christ,  1042,  3903-3976. 
Conflicis  of  the  Cliristian  lile,  1059- 1062. 
Consideration  :  its  im|)ortance,  2668. 

„  See  Meditation,  3466-3525. 

Conscience,  1286- 1347. 

„  how  it  IS  destroyed,  4920,  4538,  454'- 

„  how  i(  is  hardened,  1527. 

„  how  it  trouhlfs  the  wiclied,  4941. 

„  its  awaking,  4724. 

„  its  terrors,  4605,  4607. 

„  seared,  4949. 

,,  terrors  of  a  guilty,  2292. 

Consistency  of  conduct,  3954-3956. 
Consolations  for  the  Christian  life,  1063-T071. 

,,  for  discouraged  hearers,  262S-2637- 

,,  See  also  Comfort,  1252-12S5. 

Constancy.     See  Per  severance. 
Consiitutional  peculiarities,  704-708. 
Contentment,  1348- 1366. 

,,  cannot    come    from    earthly   things, 

4629. 
„  is  better  than  ecstacy,  2073, 

Controversies,  1367-1391. 

,,       are  no  excuse  for  an  irreligious  life,  4852, 
„       are  not  to  be  entered  upon  rashly,  4154;. 
,,       are  not   t"   deter    us    from  the  service  of 

God,  4850,  4851. 
„        Ecclesia^tical,  1220-1223,  1225-1227. 
,,       iheir  true  end,  3104. 
Conversation.     Religious,  802. 
Conversion,  1392- 1395. 

,,  a  cause  of  joy  among  the  Angels,  259, 

260. 
„  how  it  is  to  be  effected,  2668. 

„  is  not  necessarily  followed  by  great  joy, 

3046. 
„  its  importance,  4633,  4644. 

„  its  reality  is  not  to  be  taken  for  granted, 

4457- 

,,  Story  of  a,  1732. 

Conviction,  1472-1490. 

,,  descrilied,  2028. 

,,  Legal  and  evangelical,  3207,  3209. 

,,  of  sin,  4613,  4614. 

,,  should  not  l)e  resisted,  4636. 

Cournge,     Christian,  205,  4058. 
Courtesy:  its  influence  on  ciiaracter,  336. 
Covelousness  of  Judas,  4492,  4495. 

,,        See  Avarice.  400-422. 
Creation.    The,  1491-1507. 
Criticism  :  doubtfulness  ol  its  results,  524. 
Culture.     Selfish.  2206. 
Curiosity,  1508-15 18. 

,,         is  natural,  3068. 

,,         its  usefulness,  791. 
Curious  questions.     Answers  to,  2718,  2794. 
Custom,  1519-1533- 

Daily  duties  :  fidelity  to,  3236,  3241,  3244-3251, 

,,  the  tests  of  characier,  742. 

Daily  mercies,  3177. 

Damnation  ;  how  easily  it  is  incurred,  2793. 
Dancing,  4537. 

Danger.     Critical  times  of,  4904. 
Darwinian  hypothesis.     The,  3374,  3375» 
Day  of  Judgment,  3054-306^. 
Deaih,  1534- 1643. 
„       of  children,  829. 


Death.   Early,  829-833. 

„       Happiness  in,  1076,  II09-IIII,  II33,  416^ 

,,       in  regard  to  the  Christian,  477,  2569. 

,,       of  the  learned,  32S1. 

,,       will   not  alarm  those  who  are  prepared  for 
it,  3277- 
Death-bed  repentances,  421 6-42 iS,  4251-4258. 
Decorum,  5089. 

Defeat  is  not  to  be  deplored.  4832. 
Denominational    exclusiveness,    1177,    I20I,    1221, 

1224. 
Depravity  of  the  human  heart,  2669-2679. 
Desertion,  1644-1659. 

Design.     The  argument  from,  353-360,  3753. 
Desires.     Forbidden,  4707. 

,,        their  influence  on  character,  1842,  1847. 
Desponding.   Comfort  for  the,  2513  2516,  2527. 
Destiny  :   how  is  it  determined,  3056,  3571. 
Development  theory.     The,  2506. 
Devil.   The,  1660-1679. 
Difficulties   lie   at   the   outset  of  every   enterprice, 

3517,3519. 
Diligence  in  well  doing,  3691-3694. 
Disci[)line.    Cliurch,  1231,  1232. 

,,  ofcliildren,  812-815. 

Discontent,  1680- 1720. 

„  how  it  is  to  be  cured,  139. 

„  its  unreasonableness,  2327. 

Discussions,      Momentous,  4737,  473S. 

„  Profitless,   I  785-1792. 

Disinterestedness  exemplilied  in  Christ,  968. 
Disposi'ion,  704,  722, 
Dissensions,  12 18-1230. 
Distance  :  its  effect  on  the  mind,  3060. 
Doctrine.      Errors  in,  4847.  484S. 

„         its  importance,  4833,  4S36,  4842,  4S43. 

„         See  Prut/i,  4822-487S. 
Doctrinal  knowledge  is  in  itselt  worthless,  3091. 
Domg  good,  1721    1746. 

,,  should  be  the  business  of  our  life,  3289. 

,,  the  path  to  true  honour,  2208. 

Doubt  should  not  lead  to  infidelity,  4867,  4868, 
Dress.      Singularities  of,  5034. 
Drunkenness  grows  u-pon  men  gradually,  4498. 
Duty.      Ueliglit  in,  2556,  2557,  4122. 
,,      Ex.TCt  performance  of,  2555, 
„     Narrowness  of  the  path  of,  4885. 

Earnestness  essential  to  spiritual  excellence,  2505- 
2507. 
,,  how  it  expresses  itself,  4136. 

Earth.     The  :  its  place  in  the  universe,  252. 

,,  its  ultimate  destiny,  979. 

Education,  1747-1775. 

,,  limits  ol  its  power,  4077,  40S4. 

,,  its  power,  806. 

Ejacu'atory  prayer,  3765-3773- 
Election,  1776-1802. 
Eloquence  is  helped  by  knowledge,  3073. 

,,  is  powerless  to  save  men,  1 397,   I405. 

Emotion  is  itself  of  little  value.  3347. 
Emotions  :  how  they  are  to  be  produced,  355^,  33^3- 
Encouragement  for  Christian  workers,  1 723-1 727. 
,,         for  the  desponding,  1656,  1657,  1605. 
,,  its  power,  823. 

Envy  is  excited  by  prosperity,  4387,  4388. 
,,      follows  the  prosperous,  3992,  3993, 
,,     the  penalty  of  greatness,  246, 
Errors,  1803- 182  8. 

„       are  often  only  isolated  truths,  4874. 
Estimates.   False,  3014. 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


875 


Eternal  punishment,  2180-2192. 

Evidences  of  Christianity,  1143-I150,  I169. 

Evi!  spirits.     See  The  Devil,  1 660-1679. 

Evil  tiiougiits,  1S29-1849. 

Examination.     See  iielf-exa>niiiatiov,  4423,  4475. 

Example,  1850-1872. 

,,         is    not   to    be   followed    indiscriminately, 

4925- 
„         limits  of  its  power,  4084. 
„         of   Christ,    894-902,    1062,    1871,   1S72, 

2499,  2502,  2849-2S51,  32S9,  4461. 
„        only  the  inghest  should  be  set  belorc  us, 

4463- 
„        its  power,    777-779,    2123,  2126,    2130, 
2140,  2145,  3935-3937. 
Excellence  :  how  it  is  to  be  aiiaineii,  3239. 
Excellences.     Moral  :    are    all   derived    irom    God, 

2375- 
Excuses.     False,  4727-4730. 
Experience:  how  little  it  benefits  others,  810. 

„  value  of  its  testimony,  3754,  3755. 

Extempore  prayer,  3783,  3784. 

Failure  is  not  to  drive  us  to  despair,  3243. 
Faith,  1873- 2018. 

,,      a  constant  rule  of  life,  1873,217^-2175. 

,,      and  practice,  their   mutual    inlluence,   1 142, 

1157,  l«73- 
„      Appropriating,  572,  972. 
,,      Examples  of,  1275. 
,,      honoured  and  rewarded,  4057,  4058. 
„      how  God  honours  it,3S90,  3892,  3900,  3902. 
„      in  Piovitlence,  4015-40^19. 
,,      is  endangered  by  too  much  thinking,  1516. 
„      is  strengthened  by  afilictiou,  122,  123. 
,,      is  the  foinidation  of  knowledge,  3067. 
,,      its  rel-ition  to  good  works,  2398-2409. 
,,      must  be  personally  exercised,  2430. 
,,      must  be  reposed  in  God  alone,  4764.' 
,,      why  it  is  essential  to  salvation,  3093. 
Fall.     The,  3389. 
Family  prayer,  3779-378i,  37S8. 
Famines,  their  cause,  4031. 
Fashion.     A  li  e  of,  3230. 
1  -xults  :  how  they  are  to  he  overcome,  2560. 
Fault-findmg  :  its  commonness,  4425. 
I  ear,  2043-2063. 
Fear.     Faith  and,  2025-2029. 

,,       its  place  in  Divine  worship,  5083,  5086. 
Feeling,  2064-2076. 

,,        is  in  itself  worthless,  953. 

,,        is  not  the  whole  of  reli.;ion,  4144. 

,,        should   not  he  allowed  to  expend  itself  in 

words,  2410. 
,,        untrustworthy  as  a  test  and   guide,  1262- 

1265,  1271,  1279,   1281. 
,,        when  strong  is  often  silent,  4136. 
Foreknowledge.    God's,  2263-2266. 
Forms  and  Ceremonies,  2079-2092. 

„  zeal  concerning,  2990,  2991. 

Fortunes  may  be  curses,  809. 
Freedom.     .Man's  :  is  limiteil,  3404. 
Friend.    The  ever-faithful,  964,  2 1 70. 
Friends.     False,  23. 
Friendship,  2093-2172. 

„  its  duties,  4274-4277,  431a 

Fruitfulness  :  how  it  is  promoted,  3498. 

„  not  always  apparent  in  the  sincere,  344- 

Future  rewajds  and  punis-hments,  21 73-2192. 

«,  ,,  their    present    influence, 

3058-3060. 


Geology  and  Scripture,  505. 
Ghost :  meaning  of  the  word,  1639, 
Gifts,  2193-2219. 
Giving  :  how  God  gives,  2304. 
God,  2220-2390. 

,,     always  present  with  His  people,  198.  201, 

,,     His  commandments,  361 1,  3616,  3619. 

,,     His  faithfulness  to  His  premises,  3749. 

,,     His  foreknowledge,  179,  17)1. 

,,     His  glory  is  to   be   our  constant  aim,   3573> 
4188,  5030. 

,,     His  love  lor  sinners,  390,  3350. 

,,     the  source  of  all  other  love,  3323. 

,,     His  mercy:  its  abundance,  1257. 

„     His  promises,  1258,  4032,  4053. 

„     His  providence,  4015. 

„     His  sympathy  with  us,  954.  955,  3756,  3757. 

„     Hi^  sympathy  with  the  tempted,  4789,  4794. 

„     His  severity,  2316,  2317. 

,,     His  threntenings,  4924. 

,,     how  we  are  to  glorily  Him,  3613,  3616,  3619. 

,,     the  Comlniter,  202. 

,,     the  Hearer  and  Aiiswerer  of  prayers, 3720,4049. 

,,    the  great  Fust  Cause,  3 173-3 '76. 
Godliness.    True,  465. 

„  Sec  Holiness,  2S13-2S66. 

Godly  sorrow.      See  Repentance,  4206-4273. 
Goodness   and    severity    not    incompatible,     2316, 

2317- 
„  and  truth,  4833,  4836. 

Good  works,  239 1-24 14. 

„  in  what  sense  they  are  ours,  1971. 

Gospel.     The,  241 5-2451. 

,,  can  be  apjireciated  only  by  the  spiritu- 

ally minded,  2586,  2587. 
„      --      its  power,  4229-4231. 
,,  rejected,  443. 

Grace  is  not  to  be  abused,  351. 

„      its  conquering  power,  lo56. 
Grace.    Growth  in,  2473-2569. 

,,  how  it  is  to  be  measured.  1435-37. 

„  is  promoted  by  prayer,  3870-3876. 

„  is   to  be  attained    by  daily    depen- 

dence on  Christ,  2852,  2853. 
^  its  evidences,  humility,  2974,  1263- 

1265. 
J,  its  fcelile  beginnings  are  not  to  be 

despised,  4204. 
Graces.     Christian  :  how  they  are  to  be  developed, 

2316. 
Graces.      Struggling.  2316. 
Great  men  :  tlieir  irieiniship  is  not  to  be  courted, 

2138. 
Greatness.    Worldly,  239-248,  4967-4995*  " 

Grief  is  short-lived,  216. 
Guilt  drives  us  from  God,  3859- 

Habit  is  the  result  of  custom,  ISI9. 

Habits  :  defined,  4182. 

Habits.    Bad  :  are  easily  formed,  3253. 

,,  how    they    are    strengthened,     4497, 

449S,  4534-4539- 
,,  how  they  are  to  be  avoided,  4441. 

,,  their  effect,  4539,  4540. 

Happiness    does  not   depend    on    outward    things, 

3987,  3989,  5044- 
,,  how  it  is  to  be  attained,  1736-174';. 

,,  is    impossible    without    holiness,   2828 

2835,  2833. 
„  is  not  secured  by  wealth,   1348,   2294, 

4377-4380- 


876 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


Happiness    is    not   to  be  found  m  earthly  things, 

4972,  5028. 
„  is  seldom  found,  2386. 

,,  on  what  it  depends,  1351,  ISS^. 

,,  the  Christian's  portion,  1080-1084. 

,,  uncertainty  of  all    that    the   world  can 

offer,  497S,  49S3,  49S4. 
Hatred  differs  from  anger,  262-264. 
Heahli :  its  maintenance  a  Christian  duty,  650,  654. 
,,        promoted  by  cheerfulness,  755. 
,,        should  not  be  sacriliced  in  excessive  study, 

30S9. 
,,         Spiritual,  3492. 
Hearers,  2570-2637. 
Hearing,  263S-2608. 

,,        should  lead  to  holiness  of  life,  3188. 
Heart,  2669-2712. 

,,      if  It  is  pure,  the  life  will  be  pure,  3952,  3953. 
,,      its  cravings  for  (jod,  4129,  4130, 
„      its  tendency  to  recur  to  its  old  sins,  4887- 
,,      must  be  entirely  consecrated  to  God,  4741. 
Heathenism  :  its  tendency,  959. 
Heathen.     Destiny  of  the,  281 1. 
Heaven,  2713-2793. 

,,       Christ's  mode  of  speaking  of,  900. 

,,       how  it  is  made  atnactive  to  us,  470,  471. 

„       Meetncss  for,  106S-1071. 

,,       the  hope  of  the  afiiicted,  140,  141. 

,,       the  place  where  many  prayers  are  answered, 

3^93,  3895- 
Hell,  2974-2812. 

„     how  the  fuel  for  its  fires  is  furnished,  4929. 

,,  Scripture  representation  of,  2291. 
Helplessness  appeals  to  our  pity,  2310. 
Heresy  is  olten  the  offspring  of  immorality,  4835, 

4854- 
,,       the  most  fatal,  1205. 
Hohness,  2813-2816. 

,,        an  evidence  of  regeneration,  41 19,  4120. 
„        an  evidence  of  the  genuineness   of  faith, 

1978-1986. 
„        can  be  attained  by  the    regenerate  only, 

4092-4095. 
,,        charactei  ises  all  true  believers,  327,  328. 
,,       essential  to  the  knowledge  of  Goil,  2244. 
„        in   what    sense  it    is    peifected    in    death, 

1 595-1 600. 
,,        its  inlluence,  10S8,  1090,  1858. 
,,        its  progress,  2520,  2523,  2520,  2537. 
Holy  Spirit,  2S67-2908. 

„  helpeth  our  infirmities,  200. 

„  His  agency  is  implied  in  preaching  the 

Gospel,  2365. 
.4  I,  mode    of    His   operation    in    the  soul, 

2531- 
„  our  need  of  His  help,  1243,  3361. 

„  the  Author  of  regeneration,  4006-4 1 1 3. 

„  the  Authorofall  spiritual  life  and  excel- 

lences,  1400-1405,  2460,  2462,  2467. 
Honour  :  how  is  it  to  be  reached,  2472. 
Honours.     Earthly:  their  childishness,  2977. 

\Yorldly,  4967-4995.  5044-5055- 
Hope,  2909-2936. 

„      how  it  is  to  be  kept  active,  3502. 
„      how  it  is  to  be  strengthened,  349,  .^JO- 
„      its  influence,  1589. 
„      love,  and  faith,  2040,  204I. 
„      of  Heaven,  2771,  2779,  2787. 
,,      of  the  hypocrite,  3024,  3025. 
Humility,  2937-2985. 
Hypocrisy.    A  sure  sign  of,  362 1. 


Hypocrites,  2986-3034. 

Identity  :  in  what  it  consists,  4337,  4338^  4352. 
Idleness  exposes  us  to  teinjiiation,  4718. 
„         its  corrupting  influence,  808,  809^ 
,,         leads  to  discontent,   16S4. 
Idolatry;  its  sinlulness,  5019. 
Ignorance  is  sometimes  bliss,  3''S3* 
,,         its  injuriousness,  5050. 
,,         its  pitiableness,  4825. 
,,         makes  man  confident,  1384.. 
Illustrations.     Caution  concerning  the  use  of,  pagV 
802,  no!e. 
,,  Homely,  8-IO. 

,,  mistakes  in  their  use,  12-15. 

,,  of  the  Bible,  6. 

,,  Our  Lord's  use  of,  2. 

,,  their  importance  in  teaching,  I-4. 

,,  whence  they  are  to  be  obtained,  II. 

Imagination.     The  :  its  true  use,  2241. 
,,  often  misleads  us,  1803. 

Imitation  of  Christ,  2499,  2502. 
Immortality  of  the  soul,  4649-4667. 
Impatience:  its  folly,  3664,  3670-3673. 

,,  its  uselessness,  3712. 

Imperfections  are  not  to  be  deemed  little  things, 

Incarnation.  The:  the  distinctive  doctrine  of  Chris- 
tianity, 1137. 
,,  See  C/4' 2 J-/,  846-854, 

Inconsistency  of  professing  Christians,  1 163,  1 164. 
Inbred  sins  :  how  they  are  to  be  treated,  1058. 
Indecision  :  its  folly  and  perilousness,  1409. 
Infidelity.    See  Atheism,  353-373. 
Infidel.      Death  of  an,  4163. 
Infidel's  child.     Death  of  an,  834. 
Infidels,  beneficialness  of  their  efforts,  I165. 

,,        their  inconsistencies,  3718. 
Infirmities  are  not  to  be  deemed  little  things,  445^ 
Infirmity.      Sins  of,  4721. 
Influence:  of  children,  S27,  828. 

,,         how  far  it  reaches,  4596. 

,,         is  exerted  upon  us,  4704. 

,,         Unconscious,  1 857-1 865. 
Information:  how  it  is  to  be  acquired,  3073. 
Ingratitude:  it  commonness  and  wickedness,  3I77» 
Innocence:  its  power,  4712. 
Inquisitiveness.     See  Cmiosify,  1508-1518. 
Inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  480-515. 
Instinct  :  its  value,  2387, 
Integrity,  in  what  it  really  consists,  3566. 
Intemperance.     See  Dncnkittness. 
Intercessory  prayer,  3778. 
Invaliils.     A  comfort  for,  213. 
Irritaljleness,  2S3-285. 

Job  :  his  affliction,  91. 

,,       his  pLitience,  3707. 
Jonah:  his  folly  and  misery,  1704. 

Joy,  3035-3C'53- 

„     an  element  of  acceptable  prayer,  3817,  3818, 

„    given  in  tlie  dying  hour,  1642. 

„     true,  springs  irom  within,  1801. 

,,     of  Salvation  not  always  experienced  even  by 
the  sincere,  340-346,  1S02. 
Jirdgment.     Day  of,  3054-3066. 
Judgments.  God's:  to  be  reverently  considered,  144. 
Justification  by  faith,  1890,  1945,  1969-1975,  1999. 

Knowledge,  3067-3155. 

,,  and  love,  3137. 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


tit 


Knowledge   of  God,    how   it    is    to  be  obtained, 
3106. 
„  of  the  hypocrite,  3006. 

I  ATE-COMERS  to  the  house  of  God,  5090,  5091. 
Law,  3 1 56-32 1 6. 

„     of  God:  needs  wisdom  to  use  it  rightly,  4124. 

„     The  Christian's  relation  to  the,  1096,  1097, 
1 1 36. 
Laws  of  nature  are  of  Divine  authority,  4131. 

,,  ,,  Relation  of  miracles  to  the,  3530-38. 

Learning  is  not  the  same  thing  as  wisdom,  3113. 
Legacies,  467. 

Lil)erty  is  founded  in  law,  3199. 
Life,  3217-3293- 

,,    is  a  warfare,  1690. 

„     its  disappointments,  2933  -2935. 

„    its  troubles  are  soon  over,  217. 

,,    should  be  considered  as  a  whole,  166,  168. 
Likeness  to  God,  the  essence  of  true  religion,  41C0- 

4153- 

Literature.     See  Books,  655-686. 
Litigiousness  :  its  folly  and  wicked.vess,  3168. 
Little  sins,  4513-4533- 

Little  things  are  not  to  be  despised,  252 1,  2538. 
„  fidelity  in,  3245,  3250. 

„  their  influence,  726. 

,,  their  power,  1723,  1725. 

Liturgy  of  the  Church  of  Eng  and,  3800. 
Loneliness  :  its  painfulness,  1549. 
Looking  to  Jesus,  798. 
Looking  np,  176. 
Lord's  prayer.     The,  3801. 
Lord's  Supper,  3294-3322. 

„  is  not  to  be  overrated,  3426. 

,,  why  Christians  love  it,  3443. 

Love,  3323-3373- 

,,     and  laith,  2036-2039. 
„      is  mightier  than  law,  3206-3208. 
„     iis  power,  431 1-43 1 7. 
,,     the  constant  passion  of  the  soul,  31, 
Lowly.    Comfort  for  the,  4018. 
Lycurgus.    Laws  of,  5039,  5040, 

Mahomet  and  Christ,  977.  • 

Man,  3374-3423- 

„     born  to  trouble,  47-51. 

,,     his  power  over  natural  laws,  3172,  3180-3183. 

,,     his  inability    to  keep  God's  commandments, 

3185,  3186,  3189,  3190. 
,,     immortal,  2176. 
Manhood.     True  :  is  attained  only  in  the  Christian 

Life,  10S4. 
Means  of  Grace,  3424-3645. 

I,         ,t        are   worthless   without    the    Holy 

Spirit,  2877-2S91. 
«»  tt         attendance  on  them  is  not  religion, 

4131-4135. 
t»  »»         why  so  many  derive  no  profit  from 

them,  3319-3322. 
Mediator.    Necessity  of  a,  375,  376. 
Meditation,  3466-3525. 
Meekness  exemplified  in  Christ,  96<X 
„         under  reproof,  4322-4328. 
Melancholy  :  a  hindrance  to  assurance,  343-345. 
Memory  in  Heaven,  2750,  2792 
Wen :  how  their  worth  is  to  be  estimated,  3046. 
„     how  they  are  to  be  judged,  712-715,  717,  738, 

743- 
„     their  moral  possibilities  are  known  to  God, 
107 1. 


Mercies.    Daily,  3177. 

,,        should  awaken  gratitude,  35, 
Mercy  of  God,  2328-2350. 
Middle  Ages.     Tiie  Church  in  the,  1 187,  1207. 
Mind.    The  :  its  craving  for  truth,  4837,  4840. 
Ministerial  counsel   often   foolishly   sought,    1272. 

1273- 
Ministry.     Importance  of  training  for  the,  287. 
Miracles,  3326-3562. 
Miserliness.     See  Avarice,  400-422. 
Missions  :  their  reasonableness,  2420-2424. 

„         their  success,  3355,  3377. 
,,         their  ultimate  success,  u66-ii6S. 
Modesty.     False,  3906-3910. 
Money.   Love  of :  iiow  a  Christian  may  use  it,  433. 

,,       See  Avarice,  400-422. 

,,       See  Riches,  4355-4423. 
Moralists,  3563-3593- 

,,         insufficiency  of  their  methods,  4084,  4085. 

,,         their  imperfections,  4449,  4450. 
Morality,  3594-3607,  2i)26,  4449,  4450. 

,,         may    be    morally    worthless,  4453,    445b, 

4457.  4591,  4593.  4597.  4599,  4600. 
Mosaic  law.      1  he,  321 1 -3216. 
-Mothers  :  their  influence,  820. 

Motives    determine    character   and    destiny,  3056, 
4453.  4454- 
,,        determine    the   quality  of   action,   3332, 
4147- 
Mourning  for  the  dead,  469,  472. 
Murmuring  :  its  unreasonableness,   158. 

,,  See  Discontent,  1720. 

Mystery  inseparable  from  Christianity,  1140. 
Mysteries  of  Providence,  1508-1518,4020,  4031-48. 

National  establishment  of  Relii^non,  1 160. 

,,  wcllare,  influence  of  religion  on  the,  4164- 

4166. 
Nature.    Laws  of,  3 170-3 183. 

,,        Uniformity  of:  what  it  teaches,  363-365. 
Negative  righteousness  is  not  suflScient.  3603. 
Nobiliiy  of  life  :  how  it  is  to  be  obtained,  3244-51. 
Novelty.    Craving  for,  2590-2594. 

Obedience,  3608-3647. 

,,  is  made  easy  by  love,  3336-3341,  3517, 

,,  its  rewards,  3105,  3106. 

Offensive  sayings  are  best  met  with  silence,  272. 
Old  age  does  not  necessarily  bring  virtue,  1449. 

„       should  be  preparecl  for,  3275. 

„       Solitariness  of,  1630. 
Omission.    Sins  of,  3368,  4559-4561. 
One  thing  needful.     The,  3567-3570. 
Opportunities  should  be  promptly  used,  4289,  4290. 
Order:  its  importance,  1215-1217. 
Original  sin,  4552-4558. 
Ostentatious  virtues,  3651. 

Parables.     Christ's  use  of,  911. 
Parents  :  effects  of  their  sins  on  their  children,  824, 
825. 

„        influence  of  their  example,  777-779. 

„        must  not  chastise  in  anger,  Si6,  821. 

„        should  rule  by  love,  3340. 

,,        their  mistakes,  809,  811,  817,  818,  82a 

,,        their  obligations  to  their  children,  803. 
Party-spirit,  1224. 
Passion.     See  Anger,  261-286. 
Passions  are  fostered  by  prosperity,  40oS-40l(k 

„       must  be  steadily  controll«d,  33. 
Patience,  3648-3713. 


078 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


Peace:  how  it  is  attained,  1893,  '894,  3224- 
,,       is  the  result  of  victory,  339S. 
,,        is  the  reward  of  obedience,  3645.  3646. 
,,       no  peace  to  the  wicked,  2296-2301. 
Penitent.    Encouragement  for  the,  2331-2345. 
rcrlecliun :  how  ii  is  to   be  reached,    1195,   2473- 
24S2. 
„  in  what  it  consists,  3621. 

„  in  what  sense  it   is  attained  by  death, 

1 595- 1 600. 
„  is  attained  grachially.  2466,  2508-251 1. 

„  is  to  be  our  aim,  2S48. 

,,  the  Christian's  hope,  2458,  24S8. 

.Persecution  atfords  an  op]iortunity  for  the  display  of 
our  Christian  graces,  3665. 
^  how  the   Christian   triuniplis   over  it, 

2773. 
^  is  overruled    for     good,    1244,    1245, 

1249-1251. 
„  no  hurt  to  God's  people,  207. 

,,  Steadfastness  under,  3958-3960. 

iPerseverance  a  proof  of  sincerity,  3966-3976. 
,,  essential  to  success,  3839. 

„  is  found  only  in  the  regenerate,  4097. 

„  its  necessity,  3589. 

iPharisees.     The,  3593. 

rhilaiiiliropy  is  inseparable  from  true  piety,  3348. 
■Philosoi)hy:  its  failure,  479. 
Pity.      Evidences  of,  800. 
iPle;isure  :  in  what  sense  it  is  prohibited  in  the  Bible, 

»i53.  II55- 
iPleasures  :   how  they  are  used,  964. 

,,  the  zest  that  is  given  to  them  by  priva- 

tions, 220. 
"Pleasures.  Sinful:  are  certain  to    lead    to    sorrow, 
4609,  4610,  4612. 
„         are    .Satan's    baits,    4755,    4757,    4676, 
46S0,  46S1. 
Poor.     God's  care  for  the,  2310,  2311, 
Posthumous  influence,  1094,  1095. 
Prayer,  3714-3902. 

,,       a  means  of  usefulness,  2I3« 
„       for  the  dead,  3759. 
,,       Hindrances  to,  1789. 
„       Inconstancy  in,  3008. 
„       of  the  ungodly,  2027. 
„       prompted  by  faith,  1927. 
„       Kela'ions  of  the  laws  of  nature  to,  3179-82. 
United,  5075. 
Trayet fulness  is  promoted  by  affliction,  69. 
Pieache;!..    A  lesson  for,  41. 

„  art  to  concentrate  their  energies  in  their 

great  calling,  3229. 
ff  aie  not   to  strain  after  novelty,  2590- 

2594- 
Y,  how    they   are   to    deal   with   popular 

errors,  1820,  1821,  1826,  1827. 
„  how  they  are  to  set  forth  the  doctrine 

of  man's  depravity,  3391,  3396. 
yt  need  and  may  have  the  Holy  Spirit's 

help,  2SS5-28S8. 
,,  should  be  blameless,   967,  31 12,  3125, 

4281,  4285. 
„  should  not  be  ignorant  men,  1 1 54. 

^  should    not    aim    at    being   rhetorical, 

2589,  2608. 
^  should  warn   sinners  of  their  danger, 

28 10. 
ff  the  conditions  of  success,  2653. 

„  the  results  of  their  efforts  are  often  long 

hidden,  4049. 


Preachers :  their  imperfections  do  not  destroy  the 

importance  of  their  message,  2436. 
Preaching  does  not    depend  for   its   success   upoa 
intellectual  power,  1399. 
„  how  it  is  to  be  successful,  3354,  3356. 

„  Importance    of    practical    wisdom    iu, 

1154- 
„  its  foolishness,  4106,  4108-4IIO. 

„  Legal,  4229-4231. 

„  should  deal  with  daily  duties,  4198, 

,,  the  ordinary  means  of  conversion,  264I. 

Precocity  is  not  to  be  encouraged,  807. 
Predestination.      See  Election,  1776. 
Presumjituous  sins,  4541-4545. 
Preventing  grace,  62. 
Prevention  is  better  than  cure,  4716. 
Pride.     Correctives  of,  2209-2212,  2216-22191. 
„        folly  of  pride  of  rank,  4989. 
„        is  a  hindrance  to  grace,  295 1. 
„        is  hostile  to  spiritual  fruitfulness,  2983. 
„         is  promoted  by  prosperity,  4013. 
„        leads  to  prayerle^sness,  2958. 
,,         makes  men  ambitious,  2963. 
„         seeks  publicity,  2944. 
Primitive  Church.     The,  1237-1240. 
I'rolwtion.      No  second,  2191,  3063,  3065,  3066. 
Procrastination  :    its    folly,     692-696,     1445- 1452, 
1541,  1562,  1566,  1569,  3062-3066. 
„  its  folly  and  danger,  4232-4246,  4249, 

_  4258.  4289. 
,,  its  wickedness,  4247,  4248. 

Profession,  3903.-3976. 

,,         how  it  is  to  be  made  honourable,  4202. 
,,  of  the  hypocrite,  2995-3005,  3017-3023. 

,,         tested  by  affliction,  75-82. 
Promises.  God's  :  are  to  be  prayerfully  meditated, 
3484,  3499,  3501,  3512,  3521.  _ 
ff  a  knowledge  of  them  is    essential  to 

accejitable  prayer,  3844,  3845. 
„  are  always  to  be  trusted,  4052,  4053. 

„  are  to  be  pleaded  in  prayer,  3749. 

,,  precious  to  the  afflicted,  138. 

,,  their  fulfilment  is  often  delayed,  3669. 

Prophets.     The:  their  concentions  of  God's  mercy, 
•  847. 
Pro.-.peiity,  3977-4014. 

„         ol  the  wicked,  4931,  4939-4948,  4961- 

4966. 
„  should    not   be  allowed  to   check   our 

prayerfulness,  3877-3S79. 
„  See  Adversity,  16-30. 

,,  why  it  is  granted,  444. 

Providence,  4015-4062. 

,,  Relationsof  the  laws  of  nature  to,  3178. 

Provocations  should  be  met  by  patience,  3663,  3957. 

,,  their  purposes,  2464,  2305. 

Public  opinion  is  the  hypocrite's   rule   of  actico, 

2989. 
Public  schools,  1770. 
Public  worship,  5066-5094. 

„         ,,         how  the  working  classes  are  to  be 
got  to  attend  it,  794. 
Punishment  of  sin,  4603-4614. 
Purpose.    Importance  of  having  and  maintaining  a 
great,  3232-3243. 

Rainbow.  The,  1176. 
Revelation  and  reason,  537. 

,,         its  limits  are  to  be  respected,  1503-151& 

,,  Necessity  of  a,  478,  479. 

Reason  and  revelatioii,  537. 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


879 


Reason,  Faith  and,  2022-2024. 

.,       is  incompelenl  to  deal  with  Spiritual  truths, 
1087. 
Receiving  Christ,  1961,  1974. 
Recognition    of   friends    in    Heaven,    2171,    2172, 

2746-2749. 
Redemption  :  its  cost,  912. 

,,     marvellousness  of  its  method,  2319-21. 
,,      The  mystery  of,  1 140. 
Refinement  may  Ije  only  superficial,  3564. 
Reformation.   National :  must  begin  m  the  home, 

806. 
RelormatioB.    Personal  :  how  it  is   to  be  effected, 
448, 1849. 
,,  is  not  regeneration,  1393,  1394. 

„  is  not  necessarily  a  sign  of  regenera- 

tion, 3209,  4069-4071,  4077. 
„  is  not  sufficient,  4085. 

,,  where  it  should  begin,  2692,    2693, 

4104. 
Regeneration,  4063-4128. 

„  is  effected  silently,  2895,  2896. 

,,  .See  Conversion,  1392-I471. 

Regrets.  Fruitless,  4271,  4468. 
Rejeciion  of  Christ,  4918,  4924. 
Religion,  4 129-4 194. 

,,        an  1  morality,  3594-3607. 

,,        can  be  imparted  to  us  only  by  the  Spirit 

of  God,  3148. 
„        can  only  be  known  experimentally,  2881, 

2886. 
„        not  to  be  neglected  because  of  controver- 
sies respecting  it,  1373. 
„         Relation   of    forms    and  ceremonies   to, 
■2077-2091. 
Religious  experiences  vary  greatly,  1410-1429. 
Religious  observances  :  their  true  purpose,  2844. 
Religious  ordinances.    See  Means  of  Grace,   3424- 

3465- 
Renewal :  in  what  sense  it  differs  from  regeneration, 

2874. 
Reiieiitance.  4206-4273 

,,  its  relation  to  faith,  2030-2034. 

,,  Relation  of  fear  to,  2025-2029. 

y,  See  Conversion,  1392-1471. 

„  should  follow  sin  promptly,  4441,  2698. 

,,  the  first  duty  of  all  men,  3581,  3584, 

3587. 
Reproof,  4274-4333. 

,,        a  duty  ol  friendship,  2160-2162. 
Reputation  :  its  value,  721,  722. 
Resolution.    Ciiristian,  3914-3921. 
Resohiiions.     Good  :  how  little  they  can  do  for  us, 

4766. 
Rebpectability    may  be    morally    worthless,    4453, 

4456,  4457. 
Resurrection  of  Christ,  922,  4354- 

„  of  the  body,    1620-1622,    4334-4354, 


Retribution,   Laws  of,  4609,  461 1,  4612. 
Reverence  :  its  fitness  in  worship,  5071-5074. 
Revolutions.     Great :  how  they  are  to  be  effected, 

4026. 
Rich.     Duty  of  the,  454. 
Riches,  4355-  4422. 

Ridicule  is  not  to  be  heeded,  3914,  2403. 
Righteousness  :  its  true  standard,  3184. 
Ritual :   how  is  it  to  be  judged,  5092. 
Rome.    Church    of :  absurdity   of  her  claims  and 
doctrine,  S77. 
„  ^  falsity  of  her  pretentions,  1204. 


Sabellianism,  4821. 

Sacrament.    See  1  he  Lord's  Sttpper, '>p.(j\-yi,22. 
Saints.    Mistaken  notions  of,  990. 
Salvation    can  be    obtained  only  on  God's  termst 
2820,  2821. 

,,         how  it  is  to  be  obtained,  4760, 

,,         is  needed  by  all,  2418-2420. 

„         is  offered  to  all,  2417,  2421-2424. 

,,         its  Ireeness,  1962. 

„         neglected,  687-703. 

„         should  be  our  chief  concern,  4928. 

,,         the  doom  of  those  who  reject  it,  443. 
Sanctification :  how  it  is  to  be  effected,  2526,  2550. 

,,       is  as  necessary  as  justification,  2733. 

,,       is  effected  silently,  2895,  2896. 

,,       is  promoted  by  affliction,  85-90,  116,215 

,,  See  Holiness f  2813-2866. 

Sarcastic  speeches,  2163. 
Satan,  1660- 1679. 
Scepticism  is  not  to  be  feared,  4829, 

,,  its  folly,  3067. 

,,  its  powerlessness,  368. 

,,  of  able  men,  2437. 

Science.     Modern  :  its  teaching,  403I. 
Schism.     Modern  :  1822,  1823. 
Scoffer  answered.     A,  1 128. 
Scripture.     The.     See  The  Bible,  478-646. 
Seasons.     The  :  are  evidences  of  a  Divine  Govera- 

ment,  363. 
Second  Advent.     The,  980-982. 
Secret  sins,  4546-4549. 
Secrets.     Betrayers  of,  21 19. 
Sectarianism,  1 177,  I20I,  I22I,  1224,  2450. 
Secular  work,  4146,  4147. 
Selfishness  is  often  increased  by  prosperity,  4013. 

„  is  to  be  avoided  in  adversity,  28. 

„  its  unnaturalness  and  folly,  4415. 

Self-confidence:  its  folly,  4712-4714. 

,,  its    spiritual     perilousness,     3583, 

3589-3593.4719- 
Self-deception :  its  causes,  30:4. 

,,  its  commonness,  2686,  4448-4450. 

Self-denial  is  not  demanded  by  religion  only,  3703, 
4170. 
,,  is  not  the  whole  of  religion,  4169. 

,,  its  proper  consummation,  2557. 

,,  The  great  example  of,  1729. 

Self-distrust  :  its  wisdom,  4321,  4733. 
Self-examination,  4423-4475. 

,,  should  follow  prayer,  3855. 

Self-righteousness  :  how  is  it  to  be  cured,  3193. 

,,  is  excluded  by  true  faith,  1988, 

1989. 
,,  is  ruinous,  1950. 

Self-sacrifice  is  inspired  by  love,  3342. 
Self-seeking  :  characteristic  of  the   hypocrite,  29S6, 

2988. 
Senses.     The  :  are  Satan's  landing  places,  4895, 

,,  ,,      not  the  test  of  truth,  366. 

Sentimentalists.      Religious,  3347. 
Severity  an  essential  element   in  the  Divine    char- 
acter, 2316,  2317. 
Shame,  4084. 

Sight.      Faith  and,  2020,  2021. 
Silence  a  characteristic  of  Divine  operations,  1 546. 
Sincerity  :  how  it  is  to  be  tested,  333. 

,,  in  Christian  prolession,  3922-3944. 

„  in  prayer,  3812-3815. 

^,  makes  duty  delightful,  3634,  3639. 

,,  renders    our    services  acceptable,   3635- 

3638,  3641. 


i8o 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS, 


Sincerity.     The  comfort  of,  10S5,  1086. 
Sin,  4476-4614. 

,,    GoJ's  relation  to,  2275-2286. 

,,    is  to  be  forsaken  instaiitly,  4232-4258. 

„    its  punishment,  2 180-2 186. 

„    must  be  utterly  forsaken,  3832. 

„    orcasions   of   sin   are   to   be   shunned,    3857, 

4273- 
„    renders  prayer  powerless,  3858. 
„    why  it  cannot  be  forgiven  without  atonement, 
376. 
Sinner's.    God's  compassion  for,  2295. 

,,  may  be  transformed  into  saints,  2376. 

Sinfulness.     Sense  of:  a  sign  of  grace,  329,  1262, 

1277,  1279. 
Slanders :  how  they  should  be  met,  280,  3663. 
Sleep.     Blessedness  cf,  2778. 
Sleeping  in  Church,  2570-2572. 
Society  :  its  influence,  3742.  3743. 
Sophistry  :  how  it  is  to  be  refuted,  303. 
Sorrow.     Godly  and  worldly,  227. 
„  its  effect  on  character,  2(X 

„  See  Affliction,  47-236. 

,,  Worldly,  224-227. 

Soul.     The,  4615-4467. 
M  M     a  i^host.  1639. 

„  ,,     finds  rest  only  in  Christ,  968-971. 

„  ,,     finds  its  rest  and  portion  only  in  God, 

2378-2387. 
„  „     God's  indwelling  in  the,  2388,  2389. 

,»  „     is     nourished     by    meditation,    3495, 

.  3496,3499-3501- 
„  „     its  chief  glory,  2822. 

,,  ,,     its   immortality  was  brought  to  light 

by  Clirist,  3415. 
Speculative  quesiions,  351 1. 

Spiritual  discernment :   a  gift  of  the  Holy  S])irit, 
2S68-2870, 
'    IP  n     'S  indispensable  to  the  percep- 

tion  of  spiritual   triiihs,  550, 
598,    600,  2586,    2587,    3148, 
.   3»5S.  3568,  3860. 
■^  w     >S  proinoted  by  growth  in  grace, 

2551,2552. 
Spiritual  Sleep  and  death,  4950-4953. 
Steadfastness  under  persecution,  3958- 3960. 
Stoicism  is  not  patience,  3650. 
Stubbornness  :   its  folly,  2978. 
Students  should  be  careful  of  their  health,  3089. 
Study.     Rules  for,  3094-3096,  3507-3515. 
Submission  in  prayer,  3833. 

,,  to  God's  providence,  158,  1699,  1718. 

„  to  the  will  of  God,  2287,  36S5-3699. 

„  Reasons  for,  2327. 

Substitution.     See  Atononent,  374-399. 
Success  is  usually  overrated,  3518. 
Suffering  is  not  lessened  by  the  fact  that  there  are 
many  sufferers,  3054. 
,,         See  Affliction,  47-236. 
Suicide  :  its  sinfulness,  1604-1606. 
Suicides:  their  explanation,  1556. 
Sunday-School  Teachers  :  their  true  object,  1733. 
Superstition  a  result  of  morbid  fear,  2055. 

,,  destructive  of  real  religion,  2288. 

,,  'ts  causes,  3348. 

Suspicion  :    cs  debasing  influence,  822. 
Sympathy  is  promoted  by  suffering,  135,  136. 
„         of  Christ,  952-957. 

Taients  entail  responsibility,  2202. 
,,        iiieir  diversity,  2194. 


Talkers.     Fluent,  4136. 

Temple.    The  building  of  the  spiritual,  49,  113. 

Temptation,  4668-4808. 

,,  a  hindrance  to  assurance,  343,  345. 

,,  besets  the  prosperous,  4004-4010. 

„  how  it  assails  us,  2007. 

„  kinds  of,  1661. 

„  no  man  is  free  from  it,  4881-4884. 

,,  our    liability    to    it    should    make    ui 

watchful,  4881-4SS4. 
„  Successful  resistance  to,  2553. 

Thankfulness  essential  to  acceptableness  in  prayer, 
3820. 
„  is  promoted  by  humility,  2965. 

„  our  duty,  162-165,  269S. 

Thanksgiving.     Reasons  tor,  3177. 
Theologians  :  their  attempts  to  solve  all  mysteries, 

1518. 
Theology  is  necessarily  imperfect,  2235,  2239. 

,,         should   be  studied  systematically,   4872- 
4874. 
Thoughts.     Distracting,  337. 
„  Evil,  4543,  4734. 

„  Holy,  3506,  3524,  3525. 

„  ruiification  of  the,  41 16. 

„  Vain,     1849,    3485-3487,    3508,    4451. 

5057- 
„  Wandering  thoughts,  2659,  3864,  3865, 

5086,  5087. 
Time  tests  character,  743. 
'lime-servers,  3372. 
Tradition.      Perversion  of,  2085. 
Trials  of  life  develop  our   Christian  graces,  4194, 
4195. 
,,        ,,       Prosperity  unfits  men  for  the,  4014. 
,,         ,,       See    Adversity,    16-30;    Affliction, 
47-236;   7;w<Z'/«,  4021,  4623. 
Trifles  are  unwortliy  of  our  pursuit,  3228-3231. 
Trinity.     The:  4809-4821. 

,,  „        personality  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  2S67, 

„  „        the  Deity  of  Jesus  Christ,  835-845. 

Troubles.    Little,  4021. 

,,  their  beneficial  influence,  ^23. 

Trust  in  God,  30,  4049-4062. 

,,     begets  trustworthiness,  822. 
Truth,  4822-4878. 

Unbelief  :  its  powerlessness,  368,  2813. 

„  The  penalty  of,  443. 

Unconscious  influence,  1857-1865. 
Unconverted.     The,  4952. 
Understanding.     The  :    how   it   is  to  be  enriched, 

3494- 
,,  „       Sins  of,  4454. 

Unhappiness  has  its  root  witiiin  us,  1681,  1682. 
Uniformity,  1206-1214. 
"Unity."     Difficulty  of  defining,  4815. 
,,  of  the  Church,  II90-1214. 

Universe.     Vastness  of  the,  2262. 
Usefulness  ic  the  true  end  of  life,  3262. 

Vain  thoughts :  how  to  escape  from  them,  348^ 

3487. 
,,  ,,  their  hurtfulness,  3508. 

Variety,  characteristic  of  God's  works,  2193,  2301, 
Vicarious  suffering,  374,  376,  392,  393-396. 
Vice  depicted,  2688. 
Virtue.      Delight  in,  3580. 
„        depicte.l,  26S8. 
,,        is  not  loved  by  the  world.  2678. 
„       is  rewarded  here  and  now,  3506. 


SUPPLEMENTARY  INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


881 


Vision.     Spiritual,  3493,  3503. 

Walking  in  Chiist,  1980,  1981,  1989. 
Wandering  tiiouglits,  in  hearing,  2659. 

„  „  in    prayer,    3821,  3822,  3864, 

3S82. 
„  „  in  public  worship,  50S9. 

Washington  on  the  value  of  religion,  4165, 
Watchfulness,  4880-4914. 

f,  necessary,  because  our  example  may 

be  so  injurious,  4565. 
ff  necessary,  because    by    transgression 

we   shall    bring  dishonour    on    all 
that    we     account     most     sacred, 
4566-4569. 
ft  specially  needed  in  prosperity,  3994- 

3996,  4003-4013. 
Wealth  :  its  uncertainty,  4979. 

,,         See  Frosr^erity,  3977-4014. 
„  ,,    /vVr/5!:-j,  4355-4422. 

„         Worldly,  5044-5055. 
Wicked.     The,  4915-4966. 

„  ,,       their  punishment,  4603-4612. 

„  „       their   purposes  divinely  frustrated, 

4027. 
Will.     The  :  a  supernatural  power,  3536-3538. 
,,  ,,      cannot  be  forced,  1679. 

„  „     its  freedom  not  destroyed  in  conver- 

sion, 1407. 


Will.     The,  must  be  surrendered  to  Chiist,  2853. 

Words.     Many,  4S82. 

Workers.     Christian  :  are  of  many  kinds,  2200. 

„  „  Comfort  for,  3713. 

„  „  should    be    humble,    2945- 

2948,  2966,  2967. 
World.     The,  4967-5067. 

„         „       Folly  of  the  love  of,  4630. 

„        „       its  inability  to  satisfy  the  soul,  2378- 
2487. 

,y        „       the  love  of  it  is  to  be  overcome,  43, 

44.  45- 

„   _      „       See  Riches,  4355,  4422. 
Worldliness  degrades  the  soul,  4626. 
Worldling.     The  :  his  folly,  4156. 
Worldly   society    is   to   be  shunned,   2114,    2123, 

2148. 
Worship.    Public,  5066-5094. 

„  „         Hindrances  in,  3858-3865, 3882. 

„  „         its  reasonableness,  36 lO. 

„  ,         Modes  of,  3793. 

,,  „         to  whom  it  is  profitable,  4090. 

Wrath.    See  Anger,  261-286. 

Young.     The  :  their  friendships,  2150. 

,,  ,,       their  heedlessness  of  advice,  4714. 

,,  „       their  ignorance  of  the  conflicts  of 

life,  5059. 
Youthful  sins,  4503. 


Abstractions  are  useless  to  the  multitude,  846. 

Affliction  teaches  sympathy,  872. 

Arian  heresy.     The,  849. 

Baptism  of  Christ,  846. 

Body  and  soul  :  their  mutual  influence,  865. 

Childhood  of  Jesus,  858-S63. 

Christ :  His  sufferini^s,  869,  915. 

Christian.     The  :  his  sins,  1032, 

„  ,,      his  union  with  Christ,  882,  885. 

Christian  work.     Prepaiation  lor,  862. 
Church.     The  :  its  safety,  892. 
Converts.     Young,  1009. 
Death.      Preparation  for,  1051,  1052. 
Diflficulties  are  not  to  deter  us  from  the  Christian 

life,  1046. 
Discouragements  in  the  Christian  life,  1053,  1062, 

1077. 
Distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view,  990. 
Example:  its  power,  894,  895,  899. 
Faith  in  Christ  :  its  reas')nableness,  905. 
Feeling:  is  inferior  to  pi  inciple,  1004. 

,,        is  insufficient,  991. 
Fruitfulness  is  the  result  of  union  with  Christ,  1005, 
God,  revealed  in  Christ,  885-857,  875. 
Gospel.     The  :  in  what  sense  it  can  be  "adorned," 
.  992. 
„  „        its  perfectness,  992. 

Growth  in  grace*  is  often  almost  imperceptible,  1053. 

„  „         its  signs,  1036-1038,  1057. 

Happiness  :    it    is   the   business   of  Christians  to 

diffuse  it,  1049,  1050. 
Heaven  should  be  daily  in  our  thoughts,  1030. 
Holiness.     Constant  progress  is  to  be  made  in,  996, 

997- 
Humility.     Reasons  for,  1013,  1014. 
Imperfections,  how  they  are  to  be  got  rid  of, 

1054,  1057. 


Incarnation.     The,  846-853. 

Jacob's  ladder,  887. 

Love  for  Christ,  1003,  1004. 

Monastic  idea.     Folly  of  the,  1035. 

Moralists  :    the    hopelessness    of   their  condition, 

1016. 
Mosaic  law,  Relation  of  Christ  to  the,  907,  908. 
Mysteries  are  not  incredible,  857. 
Peace,  the  gift  of  Christ,  884. 
Penitent.     Encouragement  for  the,  879. 
Perfection  is  not  attained  in  this  life,   IC55-1057, 

1059-1062. 
Plymouth  Brethrenism  :  folly  of  its  teaching,  1035, 

1041. 
Politics  are  included  in  the  sphere  of  Christian  duty, 

1035,  1041. 
Politicians  set  an  example  to  Christians,  1047, 
Pride  :  its  folly  in  the  Christian,  1013,  1014. 
Profession,  the  duty  of  all  Christians,  1042 
Reputation  :  how  easily  it  is  ruined,  1033. 
Ridicule  is  not  to  be  dreaded,  1045. 
Romanism  :  absurdity  of  its  doctrines,  878. 
Salvation  can   be   obtained    only  in  one    w«y, 
881. 
„  how  it  is  to  be  obtained,  887. 

„  is  all  of  grace,  1007-1012. 

„  is  offered  to  all,  879,  880. 

Service  of  God,  in  what  it  consists,  991. 
Singleness  of  aim,  1031. 
Singularity  is  not  to  be  dreaded,  1043,  1044. 
Society  :  its  influence,  1040. 
Temperance  :  the  example  of  Christ,  902. 
Temptation  of  Christ,  866-87J 
Watchfulness  is  always  necessary,  1055,  1057, 

1061. 
World,  The  :  the  Christian's  relation  to  it,  1035- 

1041. 

3  K 


INDEX    OF    TEXTS. 


GENESIS. 

XXV. 

8.  1639. 

L 

.  I.  2258. 

34.   3642. 

2.   4121. 

xxvii. 

39.   40,  3979. 

3-  4111. 

XXX. 

39.   2S56. 

12.   2403. 

xxxii. 

9-12.  3718, 

27.   33S4. 

26.  47G3,  2948. 

31.  1498-1503. 

xxxiii. 

14.   3S(!4. 

11 

8.   4102. 

xxxvii. 

3.  2212. 

iiL 

I.  2007,  4679, 
3.  3629. 

4745. 

34.  313. 
35-  2246. 

5.  3252-3255, 

4755. 

xxxix. 

9.  46i7,  4694. 

6.  4754. 

xl. 

20-23.  4013. 

7.   4674. 

xli. 

43.  3978. 

8.  3859. 

xlii. 

4.  2314. 

17.  33S8,  3389. 

9.   1656. 

It. 

4.  1276. 

5.  45S2. 

15.   2123. 
21.   4604. 

7.  4604. 

xliii. 

34.    3979. 

10.  4502,  4503. 

xliv. 

12.   313. 

▼. 

24.  3971. 

27.  3259-3261. 

xlv. 

5.   4035. 
8.   3666. 

tL 

3.  2899,  4249. 

24.   1213-1227. 

5.  1829-1841. 

xlvi. 

5.  1134. 

9.  3916,  3960, 

3961. 

xlvii. 

9.   3218. 

14.   2043. 

xlviii. 

17-19.  4040. 

▼ii. 

8.  2831. 

13.   1187,  1250. 

EXODUS. 

21.  3435. 

iii. 

2.   1246. 

22.  3504. 

14.  2:26,  2.?41. 

TuL 

4.  1249. 

iv. 

10.  1725,  1723. 

9.  2384,  3436, 

3449. 

vii. 

13.   2279, 

21.  3394. 

viii. 

8.  3209. 

22.  3170.  3177, 

3884. 

15.  3!'70. 

ix. 

13.  221,1176. 

17.   18,  3632. 

xiii. 

2.  4355-4357. 

32.  3970. 

7.  1229. 

ix. 

34.  3970. 

XT. 

I.   2383. 

X. 

26.  2716,  4583. 

11.  3864,  3882. 

xii. 

19.   4530. 

xvi. 

13.  2260,  2261. 

3S.   3917. 

xvii. 

I.  3971. 

xiv. 

2.  5055. 

xviii. 

4.  2761. 
19.  803-806. 

3.  578,  4005. 
6.  3441. 

xix. 

2.  3513. 
9.   2847. 

XV. 

II.  2275,  2818. 
23.  2790. 

15.  258. 

xvi. 

4.  3971. 

17.  1841,3399. 

20.   1362. 

19.  803-806. 

21.   1254. 

28.  2028. 

35-   3177. 

XX. 

12. 

xvii. 

5,6.  2423. 

xxi. 

I.  38S4. 

9.  3441. 

14.  3334. 

xix. 

12.  5087. 

16.  423, 

XX. 

5.  824. 

24, 

II.   3441. 

xxii. 

I.  4778. 

17.  49P5. 

5.   3316,3319, 

6087. 

12.   3-257,  3258. 

xxiv. 

14.  3918. 

xxi. 

24.  3211-3213. 

4a 

xxiii. 

2.  1521-1526, 

63.  84&e-34r9, 

3507. 

4925. 

8937, 


xxviii. 

36. 

4489. 

xxxiL 

10. 
14. 
»5- 

4763. 
2256. 
;5621. 

xxxiv. 

7- 
29. 

2184. 
3.V25. 

« 

33- 

35    850. 

xxxix. 

30- 

4466. 

LEVITICUS. 

V. 

7. 

2202 

vi. 

9- 
12. 

3644.* 
3453. 

viii. 

30- 

285S. 

X. 

I. 

2883. 

xi. 

44. 

2814- 

2817. 

xix. 

2. 

2814- 

2817. 

17- 

4274- 

4333. 

18. 

39. =17. 

XX. 

7- 

2814- 

2817. 

xxiv. 

20. 

3211- 

3218. 

XX  vi. 

3- 
4- 

3971. 
2981. 

NUMBERS. 

iii. 

II. 

3618-3624. 

24. 

2883. 

vi. 

25- 

1252. 

xi. 

5- 
6. 

9. 
18. 

1685. 
2754. 
3177. 
3758. 

xii. 

24. 

4172. 

xiv. 

24. 

1085, 

2856,  3917. 

xvi. 

5- 
14. 

3064, 
17(i7. 

xvii. 

10. 

1707. 

XX. 

II. 

2423. 

xxi. 

5- 

16S5. 

9. 

19-16, 

19^8, 

199», 

2000, 

2004, 

3442, 

4760. 

xxiii. 

9- 

10. 

5037. 

nil. 

19- 

2255, 

2256, 

8747, 

3750-3753. 

NUMBERS. 

xxvi. 

6r. 

2S83. 

xxxii. 

23. 

640,  3250,  4603 

-4613; 

4227. 

33- 

3055. 

DEU1 

PER 

OXOMY. 

iii. 

22. 

3227. 

V. 

9. 
21. 

824. 
49fl.'>. 

29. 

3200, 

320L 

INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


883 


▼. 

33.  3971. 

vi. 

12.    470. 

ii.   21. 

3442. 

Tt 

5.   43-45,     3348. 

3349, 

19.    I.".0^-]ol8. 

iv.     3. 

2364. 

3357-3366,  3947.           | 

vii. 

9.   3754,  3755. 

5. 

2504. 

7.  799,  803-806. 

X. 

9.   41hO. 

V.    12. 

3446. 

12.   3998-4001. 

X. 

II.    39:i8. 

14- 

3748,  3755. 

vii. 

13.  5062. 

xii. 

23    3778. 

vi.  33- 

1704,  3357. 

TiiL 

2.  79. 

xiv. 

4.   2790. 

viii.    13. 

4538,  47-24,  490L 

3.   1255. 

XV. 

22.   3614,  3617. 

X.   16. 

4466. 

7.  2792,  2793. 

29.   2255,  2256. 

29. 

3619,  3622. 

II,  14,  19.   3998-4001.        1 

xvi. 

7.   2214,    2215, 

26«1-83, 

xviii,     4. 

5092. 

18.   4355-4357. 

2997-3005, 

4030-81. 

33- 

2319. 

X. 

12.  3348,  3349,  33 

57-66. 

xvii. 

37.   122. 

xxii.    19. 

2i»81. 

xi. 

I,  12,  13.   3348,  3349          j 

45-   4712. 

xxiii.     3. 

3971. 

3357-3366. 

xxi. 

13.   2008. 

xxiv.    10. 

4011. 

xii. 

23-25.   4530. 

xxiv. 

16.   1488,  4229. 

xiii. 

1-5.   3545. 

XXV. 

17.   4326,  43-27. 

I.  CHRONICLES. 

4.   3971. 

36.  37,  4238,  42 

89. 

xvi.    10. 

756-762. 

15.  3545. 

xxvii. 

I.   4053. 

xxi.    15. 

2256. 

xix. 

9.  3348,  3349,  3357-66. 

xxviii. 

15.   4957. 

xxii.     2. 

4099. 

21.   3211-3213. 

XXX. 

6.  2008. 

5- 

5093,  5094. 

xxvi. 

14.   24,  757. 

xxix.   15. 

1100-1102,  3234. 

xxvii. 

26.  4504-4506,  4630. 

II.   SAMUEL. 

18. 

1007. 

txviii. 

9.   3971. 

iiu 

16.  4597. 

xxix. 

20.   2349. 

27.   4491. 

IL  CHRONICLES. 

29.   1508-1518, 

1782, 

X. 

12.   4055. 

i.   II. 

4355-4357. 

1784,      2718, 

2794, 

'xii. 

1-7.   4'29-3. 

ii.     6. 

4015-4018. 

3179,  4041. 

5-7.   42M-4286. 

vi.    4. 

3971. 

XXX. 

6.   3348,     3349, 

3357- 

7^  4r.73. 

8. 

2633. 

33t;6. 

13.   4318-20, 

4322-33, 

18. 

4015-4018. 

19.  2807. 

4591. 

xii.     7. 

2981. 

xxxii. 

15.  2350,         3998- 

-  4001, 

14,   2337,  4.'i6.3- 

4569. 

xvi.   29. 

2275. 

4008-4010. 

xii. 

20.   23,  8.9-833 

xvii.     4. 

3971. 

19.  4568,  4570. 

23.   830,  2746-2 

749. 

xviii.     7. 

4303. 

46.   2663. 

XV. 

10.   23.'.0. 

12. 

2989. 

ixxiii. 

25.   3321. 

14.    1481. 

20. 

3152. 

28.  5037. 

26.   4055. 

xix.     7. 

2063. 

xvi. 

10.   3663. 

XX.     12. 

1912. 

rOSHUA. 

xvii. 

14.   4027. 

xxi.    15. 

i. 

5.  2373. 

xviii. 

32.  2314. 

xxiii.    12. 

3877-3879. 

6-9-  2791. 

xix. 

5-7.   147. 

xxvi.    16. 

4111,  4112. 

7.  3632. 

XX. 

9.  4006,  4491, 

20. 

1844,  5087. 

8.   3466. 

10.    4491. 

xxix.    12. 

4355-4357. 

iv. 

10.   164.3. 

xxiv. 

I.    4902. 

20. 

4355-4357. 

vi. 

1-5.   1167,  3440. 

16.   2256. 

xxxii.      7. 

4335-4337. 

vii. 

10.    1644,  4468. 
ir.  1644. 

24.   3783. 

25. 
xxxiii.     8. 

4111-4112. 
3187-3189. 

19.   2267. 

I.  KINGS. 

12. 

1443,  2981. 

x. 

13,  3559,  3560. 

ii. 

16,  20.  3840-3843. 

13- 

941,  3754,  3755. 

xiii. 

I.  1056. 

iii. 

II.  4355-4357. 

xxxiv.  21. 

3971. 

xxii. 

5.  3971. 

14.   3971. 

27. 

2981. 

xxiv. 

15.   1409. 

v. 

18.   4099. 

37. 

4259-4262i 

vi. 

7.    49. 

XXXV.    22. 

40t;0. 

UDGES. 

12.   8971. 

23. 

3980. 

i. 

7.   4043. 

vili. 

23,  61.  3971. 

V. 

25.   4494. 

27.   4015-4018. 

EZRA. 

28.   2786. 

X. 

5.    3 1.'! 2. 

ix.     6. 

146. 

xiv. 

8.   4784. 

23.   4!.'-..')-4357. 

x^i. 

4.   4675. 

xi. 

6.    1086. 

NEHEMIAH. 

19.   4715. 

xiv. 

13.    1282. 

ii.  4, 

;.  3778. 

21.   4626, 

xvii. 

4,  6.  3892. 

iv.   15. 

4027. 

28-30.  3850, 

xviii. 

21.   1409. 

V.   15. 

20n3. 

RUTH. 

xix. 

XX. 

13.   2969. 
II.   3<t>;5. 

19- 
vi.     3. 

3937. 

■18-26. 

L 

14.   3917. 

xxi. 

27.   1488. 

viii.    10. 

20r-0,  3048. 

L  SAMUEL. 

xxii. 

29.   M^S,  2931. 
8.  4308. 

ix.    6. 
»7' 

2273, 
2338,  23381 

i. 

17-  27,  3840-3843. 

13.   20S9. 

33- 

146. 

i. 

23.   3980. 

xxiv. 

34.  3980. 

li. 

24.   820. 

ESTHER 

iii 

18.   3670  3696. 

II.  KINGS. 

ii-     3. 

1901. 

V. 

3.  3243 

ii. 

I.  2210,  2218, 

2219. 

iii.     I. 

3978. 

INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


▼      6.  3840-3843. 

iv. 

5.   4049. 

xxxi. 

24. 

2791. 

▼ii      2.   3840-3843. 

6.   1252. 

zxxiii. 

I. 

756-762,  3038-8041 

8,9.  IVlt^. 

7.   2378,  2379, 

4974. 

10. 

4027. 

ix.    12.  3840-3843. 

8.  4058. 

12. 

4164-4166. 

V. 

I.   3841. 

xxxiv. 

4- 

3754,  3755. 

)oa 

3.  2697,     3506 

,     3872- 

5- 

3521. 

L     I.  4497-4503. 

3876,  3887 

-3892. 

6. 

3720,     3754, 

8765, 

3.  3978. 

vi. 

6.  4214,  4215. 

4049. 

5.  3778. 

8.   1844. 

10. 

3758. 

6.  4096. 

9.  3754,  3755. 

II. 

2063,  2472. 

7.  1673,  1674. 

vii. 

2.  2288-2-94. 

14. 

4597-4602. 

8.  4497-4503. 

II.   4946,  4956. 

19. 

3661. 

11.  155. 

12.   2296,  2301. 

22. 

4057,  4058. 

21.   165,  1693. 

14.  4729. 

XXXV. 

9- 

756-762. 

IL     3.  4497-4503. 

viii. 

1-4.  2968-2970. 

xxxvi. 

6. 

2273. 

4.  3256,4580. 

2.  3356. 

8. 

2833,  4070. 

6.  3692-3695. 

7.  6082. 

xxxvii. 

I. 

4939-4948,  4954-66. 

10.  3707. 

ix. 

2.  3038. 

5- 

1928,     1929, 

4946, 

W.  20,  21.  689, 

14.  756-762. 

4948, 

T.     7.  47-51. 

16.  4174. 

23- 

2325,  3226. 

13.  4027. 

z. 

4.  4915. 

24. 

8677. 

17.   3ti75,  3676. 

11.  3012. 

27- 

4597-4602. 

vi.     9.   1656. 

13.  4924. 

35, 

36.  4612. 

vii.     6.  3207. 

14.  2310,  2311. 

38. 

4965. 

viii.     7.  3614. 

17.  3754,3755. 

, 

xxxviii. 

2. 

2292. 

9.   1877. 

xiii. 

1,   1(;45-1648. 

8. 

4763. 

vjii.   14.  3024,  3029,  5008. 

5.   756-  702. 

20. 

727-730. 

xi,     7,  1495,  1496,   2229-40. 

xiv. 

I.  4915.       • 

xxxix. 

2, 

3.  3734. 

20.  1408. 

3.   3:190-3397. 

3- 

3491,  3524. 

xiii.    15.  964,  3364. 

7.  756-762. 

6. 

1537,  5014. 

xiv.   14.   1603,  1604,  1606. 

xvi. 

6.    1687. 

10. 

113.  3688. 

XV.     4.  3521,  3731. 

8.   4760. 

II. 

435. 

xvi.   20.    4214,  4215. 

10.  844. 

12. 

4214,  4215. 

xvii.     9.  907,  3622. 

xvii. 

5.   1009,  1069. 

xL 

I. 

1144-1148, 

87M, 

xviii.     4.  1696. 

7.   4049. 

3755. 

6.  3020. 

14.    4966. 

4- 

4049. 

xix.  25.  572. 

15.  4:^34,  4627- 

4630. 

6. 

3614. 

26.   -1334-4354,  4649-67. 

xviii. 

6.   404i<. 

12. 

1262,     1486, 

1487, 

27.  1557. 

xix. 

6.  3622. 

3880-3882. 

xxi.     7.  3020. 

7-1 1.   .'•-06-509 

xlii. 

I. 

1583. 

15.  3322. 

8.  2217. 

2, 

4627-4630. 

xxii.     2.  3431. 

10.   34  84. 

4- 

5078. 

Kxiii.     4.  3840-3845, 

6082, 

11.  2855,     3200,      8596, 

9- 

1649. 

5085. 

3611. 

xliii. 

4- 

1018. 

10.  67,  79,  100,  3696. 

12.   4546-4549. 

5- 

1925. 

13.  225.5,      2256, 

3747, 

13.   4544-4545. 

xliv. 

21. 

2681-2688. 

3750-3753. 

14.   3797-3823. 

xiv. 

7. 

1500. 

xxvi.  14.  1495,      1496, 

1507, 

XX. 

5.  756-762. 

II. 

1901. 

2229-2240. 

xxi. 

I.   756-762. 

xlvi. 

5- 

1246. 

xxvii.     8.  1408. 

xxii. 

I.   1264,  1656. 

6. 

884. 

10.  3008,  3718,  8734. 

2.  3723. 

10. 

4040. 

19.   4382,  4383. 

5.   4049. 

xlvii. 

7- 

5063. 

xxviii.  18.   4n97-4(;02. 

16.  4627-4630. 

xlviii. 

II. 

756-762. 

28.  2603. 

21.  3754,  3755. 

xlix. 

6. 

4407-4411. 

xxxi.     I.  4895   4898. 

24.   3754,  3755, 

4049. 

14. 

1114. 

24.  4917. 

26.   4070. 

16. 

4377-4383. 

xxxvi.   15.  2310,  2311. 

xxiii. 

I.   961. 

»7. 

4984. 

xxxvii.   5.   1919 

6.   5082. 

L 

8. 

2990. 

xxxviii.22.   5061. 

xxiv. 

4.   3622. 

IS- 

3900,  3723. 

xlii.  s,  6.  2969,  3144. 

XXV. 

10.  599. 

11.  2334-2337. 

16. 

4938,     5066, 
5070. 

5067, 

PSALMS. 

15.   3794, 

22. 

4922,  4924,  4938. 

L     2.  495-499,   579, 

2664, 

xxvi. 

8.  3443. 

li. 

I. 

2309,  4562. 

2665,     269.5, 

3196, 

II.  3971. 

2. 

4083. 

3197,     3466, 

3479- 

xxvii. 

I.   1918. 

4- 

4591. 

3484,  3585. 

4.  2H39,  3966, 

5082. 

5- 

4552-4658. 

%   2083. 

14.  2791. 

6. 

3641. 

tt.     8.  448. 

xxx. 

2.  4049. 

7. 

3811. 

9.  1161,  1162,  1166-68. 

5.  232,  4947,  3706. 

9- 

4562. 

Ki.     5,  6.   4058. 

7.  1658,  2293. 

10. 

4073,  4268. 

W.     4.  3507. 

xxxi. 

16.  1252. 

12. 

340,  1011.  1081 

INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


885 


li. 

16.  3614. 

xciii 

I.  3170. 

cxix.  57.  1018. 

w. 

8.  5062. 

xciv 

7.  3012. 

63.  2123-2130. 

17.  2697,3791,3866-79. 

19.   1257-1259,     1832, 

67.  60-65. 

Ivi. 

13.   1009. 

1849. 

71.   72,  117. 

Ivii. 

7.   3498. 

xcv 

4,  5.   4205,  4232-4258. 

77.   3196,    3197,    412a 

lix. 

5.   4544. 

6.  361  u,    3798,    37y9, 

4123. 

15.   1252. 

5071. 

78.   3466. 

17.  2.;47. 

7.   1438-1452,3447. 

90.   3170. 

Ixi. 

2.   3734. 

4.   4636. 

92.   3196,  3197. 

Ixu. 

2,  5.   4764. 

xcvii 

2.   4036,  4037. 

96.   3185. 

4.  738. 

10.   4592-4595,    4697- 

97-  3196,  3197. 

10.  3i»84-4010,  4358-83, 

4602. 

105.  630,    638,  4876-78. 

4389-4^99. 

II.  1894. 

108.  630. 

11.   22(19-2274. 

12.   3038,  3042. 

113.   1830,       1837-1847, 

Ixiii. 

2.   3427. 

c. 

2.   4123,  3038. 

4591-4595,  4597- 

3.  2;578-2387. 

3.   3610 

4602. 

5.  34i»9,  41*70,  4627-30. 

ci. 

8,  3498. 

116.  1011,  1012. 

7.  756-762. 

ciL 

3.   3493. 

133.   3832. 

Ixv. 

4.   4627-4630. 

4.  50 £-2. 

135.    1252. 

13.  2955,  2956,  2964. 

13.  3884. 

140.  575 

Ixvi. 

16.  3907. 

ciii. 

13.  958,     1284,     2314, 

148.  34()6-3479. 

18.  3864,  3S58,  4264. 

2247,    2248,   2325, 

163.   3196,    3197,   4591- 

19.  3754,  3755. 

4481. 

4595,   45'.»7-4602. 

Ixvii. 

I.    1252. 

14,   9:18. 

165.   3196,   3197,  3645. 

6.   2912. 

19.  315(i,  3157,3174. 

174.   319i;,     3197,   4122, 

Ixviii. 

3.   756-762. 

20.   21,  4143. 

4123. 

5.   4  65. 

civ. 

6.   3157. 

cxx.     1.  3754,  3755. 

10.  2310,  2311. 

10.   i;955,  2962. 

cxxiv.     7.   6055. 

13.  -2310,  2311,  3667. 

civ. 

24.   1490-1563,  2196. 

cxxvii,      I.   3735. 

Ixix. 

10.  28^7. 

34.   3038,    3042,    3131. 

cx\x.     4.  4219-4224. 

Ixxi. 

20.  2067. 

;;48S-34yi,    3499. 

fjxxxii.      I.   "246. 

Ixxii. 

2.   448. 

cv. 

3.  756-762. 

14.    1170. 

8.  1161,1162,  1166-68. 

4.  3720. 

15.   2310-2311. 

12.  2;U0,  2311. 

CTi. 

I.   2344. 

16.   757. 

Ixxiii. 

3.    4032  -  4034,     4  939- 

3.   3644,  4467. 

cxxxiii.     I.   1197,  1198. 

4948,  4954,  4966. 

7.  45,  2309. 

2.   2858. 

12.  3977-3980. 

15.   3758. 

3.    4049. 

17.   4965,  40;]5. 

45.   2256. 

cxxxvii.     9.    1847. 

18.   4966,  1009. 

cvii. 

1.   2344, 

cxxxviii.     6.  955. 

25.  43-45,    2720,    2378- 

6,  19,   28.   2027,   3718, 

cxxxix.      1.   2681,  268S. 

2387,  4162. 

3719. 

2.   2264. 

25.  26,  1018. 

13,  19,  28.  3718,  3719, 

3.   966. 

26.   4627-4630. 

387,-3879. 

7.  2257-226i. 

Ixxiv. 

I.   189. 

17-19.   69. 

17.   1257. 

Ixxvii. 

6,   4441-4445. 

41.   23111,  2311. 

19.   8,  3506. 

9.    18'.),  1649. 

cix. 

31.   2310,  2311. 

cxli.     3.   2t)99. 

12.  3466-3479. 

ex. 

3.   2564. 

5.   209i>. 

18.   1919. 

cxi. 

2.   1499,  1503-1506. 

8.   3794. 

Izxviii. 

7.   2i0. 

10.   2063. 

cxlii.     5.  1018,  4627-4630. 

20.   2341. 

cxii. 

3.  4355-4357. 

7.   1623. 

Ixxx. 

3,  7,  19.  1252. 

CXVl. 

2.  3726. 

cxliii.     5.  3466-3479. 

Ixxxiv. 

2.  2381,     2385-2.387, 

7.  39,  963-971,  2378- 

10.   2-87. 

3427,   3443,   4129, 

2387,  2861. 

cxlv.     9.   1360,  4015-4018. 

4130,  4627-4630. 

8.   1(109. 

14.   2312. 

4.  6(182. 

10.   1927. 

18.   5069, 

7.  3965. 

15.    1552. 

19.   3895, 

II.  2306,    3052,    3758, 

cxviii. 

21.   3754,  3755. 

cxlvi.     9.   4027,  4948. 

3S!»9,  3971. 

28.    1952, 

cxlvii.     3.  211 2. 

IxxxviL 

2.  1170. 

cxix. 

I.  3200,  3201,  3647. 

II.  2819. 

7.   1013.  1014. 

9.   1034. 

cxlviii.     6.  3170,    3174,   3176, 

Ixviii. 

7.   1486,  1487. 

14.   3612. 

4141. 

Uxxix. 

7.  2047,    3798,    3799, 

15.  3466. 

8.  3971. 

6071-5074,    6083, 

18.  607,     1087,     2869- 

11-13.  5088,  6081, 

5085-6087. 

2S70,    2877,  2878. 

cxlix.     2.  756-762. 

15.  2378. 

2-?.   3466-3479. 

»6.   756-762. 

25.    1599,  2067. 

PROVERBS. 

xc. 

2.   -253. 

37.    4717,  4895. 

i.     5.  3100. 

10.  3-259-3261. 

45-   328. 

7,  2063. 

12.   1558-1561. 

48.   3466-3479. 

10,  4495. 

xci. 

II.   3902. 

49-   3521. 

22.  687-708. 

16.  3257,3268. 

54.  3218. 

28.    4253. 

886 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


i. 

32.  1329. 

81.0,   1760,   1761, 

CANTICLES. 

ii 

4.  3841,  4f53. 

1771,  1774. 

V, 

2.  1656. 

7.  3971. 

xxiii 

5 

3991,   4403-4406, 

vi. 

II.  2561. 

9,  10.  3149. 

4979,  498o. 

viii. 

6.  3357. 

Ul 

2.  3257,  a258. 

7- 

712,  717,  739,  740, 

7.  3332. 

7.  2045,  4597-4602. 

1829,  1841,  1842, 

8;  16.  4114. 

2691,   2692,  2695, 

ISAIAH. 

II  3675,  3676. 

8567,  3571,  4073- 

i. 

3.  2668. 

IC.  3257,   3978,  4355- 

4078,  4454. 

4.  3394. 

4357,  5062. 

13 

14.  816-821. 

5.  3679, 

33.  3779-3781. 

'7- 

2063,  4190,  5043. 

II.  2290,  3614,  4181- 

34.  2203,  2982-2985. 

24. 

1456. 

4134. 

iv. 

14.  3252-3255,  4925. 

26 

2688. 

II-15.  5066,  6067. 

18.  2458,   2475,   2527, 

xxiv. 

10. 

29. 

14.  1500. 

3154,  3247,  39C5-76. 

12. 

4603-4612. 

16.  727-730. 

23.  33,  1841-1848,  2691, 

16. 

4447,  4571,  4574. 

17.  3615. 

2695-2698. 

19- 

3957. 

18.  3811. 

25.  3239. 

20. 

3025. 

25.  8»>. 

V 

12.  4318-4320. 

XXV. 

2. 

1546. 

ii. 

3.  ?971. 

vi. 

1 6.  4591,  4592. 

26. 

3936. 

4.  24  29,  269.3. 

vii. 

2.  4559. 

xxvi. 

lO. 

4948. 

9.  2975,  2976. 

viii. 

13.  4592-95,  4597-4602. 

12. 

1384,  3094,3590. 

vi. 

3.  361. 

17.  4125,4126. 

xxvii. 

7- 

220. 

9,  10.  2439-2442. 

ix. 

10.  2063. 

xxviii. 

5- 

1087. 

viii. 

4.  3991, 

X. 

17.  4^18-4333. 

7. 

3200,   3201,   3198, 

13.  4922, 

22  4355-4357. 

3609. 

ix. 

9.  448. 

xi. 

4.  3990,  4332,  4383. 

9- 

3762. 

xi. 

6.  827,  828,  3356, 

xii. 

I.  4:il 8-4333. 

13- 

2340,  4211,  4212. 

9.  1161,  1162,  1166-68. 

10.  1667. 

27. 

451. 

xii. 

3,  3432,   3437,  3817, 

26.  1088. 

xxix. 

I. 

687-703. 

3818,  5077. 

27.  3505. 

15- 

816-821. 

xix. 

3.  4027. 

xiii. 

7.  3010. 

18. 

3609. 

XXV. 

8.  1594, 

9.  3020. 

20. 

3590. 

9.  3038,  3042, 

15.  4496. 

23- 

2948. 

xxvi. 

3.  1915,   1917,  2016, 

18.  4318-4333. 

XXX. 

8. 

1718,   3984,  3985, 

4053. 

20.  4691. 

4358-4383. 

4.  2254. 

22.  419. 

28. 

5008. 

10.  2423. 

24.  816-821. 

xxxi. 

30- 

485. 

12.  1015. 

xiv. 

13.  749,  750. 

xxvii. 

5.  1935. 

14.  1081,  4U70. 

ECCLESIASTES. 

9.  73. 

16.  1384. 

i. 

2. 

2381,   2385,  2386, 

xxviii. 

10.  2647,  3097. 

27.  2063. 

4970,  5048. 

16,  1916. 

34.  4164-4166. 

4- 

3170. 

21.  2283,  2284,  3676. 

XV. 

5.  10.  31,32,4318-4333. 

8. 

4969,  4971. 

27.  28,  186, 

8.  3858. 

9- 

3222. 

xxix. 

10.  4951. 

12.  4318-4320. 

18. 

3110. 

II.  526. 

13.  752. 

ii. 

2. 

749,  750. 

13.  3821,  8822,   5068, 

15.  752-755. 

II. 

4430,  5048, 

5067,  5070. 

23.  4287-4290. 

", 

12.  4970,  4972,  4974. 

XXX. 

10,  II.  2608-2613. 

26.  1829-1831,  1836-41, 

14. 

4052. 

21.  2872, 

svi. 

1.  3783,  3795. 

16. 

2210,  2218,2219, 

xxxi. 

5.  88. 

6.  2063,  4597-4602. 

iii. 

26. 

3977-3980. 

xxxii. 

8,  451. 

7.  4597-4602. 

iv. 

8. 

3987-3991,  4366, 

XXXV, 

8.  636,  2832. 

9.  3226. 

10. 

4332. 

10,  756-762,  3047. 

18.  19,  1359,  1362. 

V. 

I. 

6071-5074, 

xxxviii 

.  8.  3965, 

19.  2964. 

2. 

3798,  3799,  3804- 

xl 

.  6.  1537,  1539,  1542. 

xvii. 

10.  4318-4333. 

3809. 

II.  961. 

13.  749-762. 

II. 

3990. 

18,  2228, 

22.  752-755. 

vi. 

2. 

2294,  3990,  4377-83. 

29.  4015-4018. 

xviii. 

2.  2944. 

vii. 

I. 

721,  722,  1033,  1552. 

31,  2013,   3321,  3322, 

14.  3657,  4753. 

6. 

3976. 

3456,  3459,  5076. 

24.  964,  2390,  2170. 

10. 

990. 

xii. 

16.  75'!-762,  3038,  3042. 

xix. 

4,  7.  964. 

14. 

17. 

xlii. 

3,  951,   1283,   199ti, 

XX. 

27.  1309. 

viii. 

II. 

2299. 

2470. 

xxu 

26.  40i«-412. 

ix. 

I. 

3977-3980,  4944. 

xliii. 

2.  138. 

27.  3858. 

2.  3 

.  4052,  5045. 

xlv. 

9.  4960. 

30.  4027. 

II. 

1362. 

13.  3226. 

cxii. 

I.  721,  722,  3992,  3993, 

X. 

I. 

10:i3. 

xlviii. 

22.  2296-2301,4963. 

6.  781-788,  775-790, 

19- 

757. 

xlix. 

10.  2779, 

794,  793,  799,  803- 

xi 

9- 

641,  749-762. 

15.  4015-4018. 

806,  808,  809,  811- 

xii. 

1452. 

I. 

2.  2341, 

INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


8S7 


L    10.  991,  2005. 

i. 

.  23.  398? 

-3993,      4367- 

xxxiii. 

31.  2474,  2576. 

li.   II.  3047. 

4369,  4372-4383. 

32.   2577. 

liii.     6.  3390-3397,  4476. 

xii 

3.  4945 

xxxvi. 

24-27.  3971,  4077,  4078. 

10,  2328. 

5-   4713 

25.   2331. 

liv.     8.  16.56,  2321 

xiii 

16.  2299 

25,  26.  633. 

17.   4800. 

23.   806, 

1448,4088,4109, 

26.  3208,  4067,  4073-76. 

Iv.      I.   943. 

XV. 

6.  2256 

xxxvii. 

41.   3440. 

1-3.   1712. 

xvii. 

9.   2669 

-2678,        2680, 

xxxix. 

23,  24.  1644. 

6.   1444. 

3385,    3387,    3390- 

xlvii. 

9.   1151. 

7,  23 J 1,    2335, 

4597- 

339 

7.     4433.  4434- 

4602. 

4454. 

DANIEL. 

13.   1394. 

xviii. 

8,  10.  22 

56 

i. 

15.  26. 

Ivn    15.  2253,  2955. 

xix. 

7.  4027 

ii. 

33-  3965. 

17.  18,  16.09. 

xxvi. 

4.  3971. 

iii. 

15.   2269. 

21.  2296-2301. 

13.  2256. 

25.   3299. 

Iviii.     9.  3722. 

19.  2256, 

V. 

3.  3978. 

iix.     2.   1644. 

xxviii. 

II.  280. 

6.  1443. 

5.  5008. 

xxix. 

7.    1041. 

20.   4011,  4012. 

7.  1829-1831.1849. 

XXX. 

14.   187. 

25-28.  4061. 

IxL     I.  4955. 

xxxi. 

18.  2245. 

27.   2996. 

10.  756-762,  3038,  3042. 

xxxii. 

30.   3394 

30.   4928. 

Ixiii.     7.  2309. 

xliv. 

4.  2281, 

2282,  4478-80, 

vL 

10.  2697,  3866-79,  4199. 

8.  2245. 

4592-4595.  5019. 

13.   3840-3843. 

10.  2256,  2260. 

ix. 

7.  146. 

kiv.     6.  1538,      1543, 

1546, 

LAMENTATIONS. 

16.  3844. 

1552,  1553. 

i. 

8.   4490. 

21-23.  3722. 

Uv.  14.   1083,  3047. 

ii. 

19.  3723. 

xi. 

35.   1244,  1246. 

18.  3038,  3042. 

iii. 

22.  2295. 

xii. 

4.  3097. 

24.  3722. 

33.   3676. 

Ixvi.     I.  2228. 

40.    44  59 

HOSEA. 

2.  3946. 

iv. 

I.   4626. 

ii. 

14.  119. 

13.   120. 

iii. 

25.   3299. 

EZEKIEL. 

iv. 

6.   3093. 

JEREMIAH. 

iii. 

3.   4174. 

17.   145L 

ii.   13.  4627-4630. 

17-21.   2 

310. 

vi. 

14.   5043. 

iii.  12.  424. 

xi. 

19.   3208 

viii. 

2.  2027. 

23.  806,1452-1455,1458.1 

19,  20    4073-4078.               1 

X. 

12.    1446. 

iv.     3.  1446. 

20.  3971 

xi. 

4.  2896. 

14.  1829-1847, 

25 

74, 

xiii. 

13,  14-  2 

J08-2613. 

12.   5069. 

3508,  3882. 

19.    4  726. 

xii. 

14.  382. 

22.  4919. 

xvi. 

6.   948, 

H9. 

xiii. 

3.  5043. 

V.     7.  2350,  4008-4010. 

49,   809. 

9.  443. 

vL   14.  1258,    1259, 

132 

7- 

xviii. 

4.   605, 

3188. 

10.   8. 

1333,  2608-2613. 

20.   3188. 

12.  3055. 

20.  3614. 

31.  4073 

-4078. 

14.    1594. 

30.  2996. 

xxviii. 

2-5.   4011,4012. 

xiv. 

5.   1244,     1245,     225e- 

vii.  23.  3971. 

5.   3982, 

3983,  3994-96. 

2858. 

22.  23,  2290. 

xxxi. 

10.   4011 

4012. 

8.   460L 

fiii.  11.  1218,  1259,  1327-33. 

xxxiii. 

15.  3971 

9.  3971. 

MATTHEW. 

▼. 

s. 

2980. 

vL     I,  5.  2094. 

vii.    3.  4423. 

L  21.  2853. 

8, 

2244,  2709,  3052, 

6.  2993,  371 

5,  3774- 

3-S.  4281-4286. 

ii.  11.  5071. 

3128. 

3777. 

7.  37.")1. 

iii.    7.  2795,  2805. 

13, 

14.   1237. 

7.  3782,  380 

0,  3804- 

11.  37.58,  4552-4.T58. 

8.  2541,  3925-3930, 

14. 

1032, 

185,  1186, 

3809. 

12.  11.36. 

3954-56,    4269- 

3935. 

4177,4193, 

8.  3800. 

13.  2790,  279.3,  4213. 

4272. 

4563-4509. 

9.  3801,  382 

5. 

.    14.  2829,  393  i. 

10.  864.  2394. 

16. 

731.   1042,    1044, 

10.  979,  2287 

,  4143. 

15.  738. 

12.  1183,  2802-2804. 

1089- 

1091,  17.i.5, 

II.  3757. 

16.  800,  2072.    3025, 

iv.     I.  4767-4805. 

3906, 

4136,4177, 

13.  3856,  38J 

)7,  4708, 

3930.  3952. 

i-ri.  8G8-i7L 

4200, 

4202. 

4717. 

16-20.  712-718. 

2.  865. 

20. 

2990,  3566. 

21.  470.  832. 

17.  2404,  2456,  409.\ 

3.  2007. 

22. 

28,  183 

-).  1842. 

22.  1031,  108 

5. 

17,  18.  3ii74. 

6.  1934. 

28. 

1836.  4898. 

24.  4190. 

18-20,  114.3. 

8.  4726. 

38. 

3211-3 

il3. 

25.  4641-464 

5. 

19.  5053.  .5064. 

9.  li'77. 

40. 

3168,  3169. 

30.  1990-200 

3. 

21-23.  3216. 

17.  2032. 

48. 

744. 

33.  1063. 

31,  32.  4054,  40S7, 

20.  3631. 

vi. 

1. 

4091. 

34.  2372-237 

4. 

viii    2.  1963. 

▼.    3,  4.  3880-3882. 

I- 

3.  '?942- 

-2945- 

vii     2.  1739,  174 

2, 

4.  962. 

S88 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


zvL 


XfW. 


9.  3627. 
10.  2561. 

25.  1246,  1247. 

26.  2017. 

9.  1'.I40. 
ao.  1283. 

24.  1534. 

13.  3709-3713. 

22.  3004-11,3966-76. 

26.  3056. 

28.  4922. 

29.  3403. 

30.  3ii84,  4019-4022. 
33.  3920. 

38.  1046,  3953-39G0, 

4168. 
38,  39.  87. 
42.  965. 

10.  448. 

11.  31-2.5. 

12.  3838. 
16-19.  1470. 

25.  2437. 

28.  928,  929,  1481. 

28.  29.  417I-417.S. 

29.  9C.0.  2'J66,  2967. 

30.  3202,  3341. 

19.  9C0. 

20.  321.  9.51,  1283, 

1996,  2470. 

23.  2404. 

30.  2608. 

32.  2867. 

33.  993,  2692,  2693, 

3574,  ;i585,  4095. 

34.  3496.  4073-4076, 

4136. 
34,  35.  2692,  2695, 

44.  45.  2826. 

45.  4516. 
3-8.  2653,  2665. 

5.  2526.  3961. 

5.  6.  3970. 

12.  4249. 

21.  3058-3960. 
82.  381  il -3803,  30«4- 

30S(),  3094,4010, 
4358-4365. 

31.  2518. 
33.  11<;2,  2445,  2515, 

2508. 
34-  5. 
42.  229L 

46.  619. 

2.  4943. 
19.  2504. 
23.  2863. 

30.  3719,  3808,  3837. 

31.  1990-2006. 

9,  18.  2692,  2695. 

13.  2422. 

19.  1829-1841,  1849, 
2ti59,2669-2678. 

27.  1275. 

28.  1707,  1927. 
8.  1990-2006. 

18.  643,  1165,  1246 

1251. 
84.  234.  .3958-3060, 

4168. 
87.  4603-4612. 
4.  3744. 

3.  987,  2820-2S24. 

6.  0.50. 

10.  .5043. 

IS.  4291-429a 

19.  20.  5076. 

14.  765. 


xix.  16-22.  76. 

iv.  84.  1739, 1742. 

20.  3591,  3603. 

26,  27.  1162,  2634. 

23.  4.l58-43()0. 

27.  3246. 

23,  24.  4389,  4397. 

a8.  25,  28,  2533,  2535, 

XX.  30.  3457. 

2538,  2540,  2565. 

xxi.  15.  302U. 

2570. 

16.  3.!56. 

31.  2518. 

19.  3061.  .3963,  3964. 

34.  5. 

31,  32.  :r.03. 

T.  19.  9'i2. 

xxii.  23.  43.>4-4354. 

27.  1283. 

29.  3134. 

39.  829-8.33,  1534. 

3S-40.  1136. 

vL  14.  16,  4043. 

36-38.  455'.t. 

20.  721,  3209,  3022. 

37.  43  45. 3332,  3.34.«5, 

vii.  21.  1829-1841,  1849, 

3:{49, 3366, 3947. 

2059,  26<J9-2678. 

39.  1040. 

28.  1275. 1907,  1922. 

xxiid.  23.  1136,  2090. 

viii.  26,  30.  962. 

25.  1304,  1404,  2093. 

34.  234,3958-60.4168. 

25,  26.  14.09,  14(>3. 

36.  687-703,  4156  58, 

27.  738,  2905,  2097- 

463.5-4637,  4P20, 

3;:05,  3052. 

4921,  5021,  5022. 

aS.  2823,  2824,  4069- 

ii.  5.  3744. 

4071,  4073-76, 

9.  962. 

4080,4081,4106. 

21-26.  1446. 

xxiv,  3.  30C.2. 

24.  2001. 

24.  3016,  3017. 

42.  959. 

^9.  1544. 

43.  2802-2804. 

42.  3062. 

X.  14.  765. 

42,  43.  4906-4910. 

15.  3890-3892. 

42-44.  980. 

20.  3591-4168. 

44.  1051,  1052. 

21.  234,  1889,  3.567- 

46.  991. 

3.570,  4458. 

xxT.  3.  3015. 

23.  3984-3986,  3994- 

4.  1952. 

4010. 

8.  1471. 

25.  4358-69,  4389-97. 

II,  12.  4256. 

48.  1907. 

15.  4989. 

xL  3.  .3901. 

21.  2406. 

ti.  2084-2087. 

25.  727,  2206,  2207, 

24.  3S27- 38.30. 

2736. 

xii.  18.  4334-43.54. 

29.  4249. 

30,  33.  43-45,  .33.32, 

34.  2805. 

3348,  3349,  336J, 

40.  005.  1746,  3366. 

3947. 

41.  2706,  2797. 

31.  1040. 

42.  441.5. 

33.  .3614. 

46.  2S06. 

34.  3570,  3586. 

xxvi,  26.  3208-.3301. 

xili.  I.  3974. 

32.  3(;64. 

13.  3966-3976. 

35.  2(8*-2687,  4669. 

33.  4906-4910, 

36.  5U87. 

37.  4556. 

39.  3016. 

38.  980. 

41.  1849.  3515,  .32.52- 

xiv.  22.  2298-330L 

3255.30.35,3772, 

31.  4669. 

4038,  4762. 

34,  37.  3608. 

42.  2287. 

36.  3616. 

46.  2S11,  2812. 

38.  3850,  3857,  4273, 

48.  .5058. 

4691-4717,  4743, 

56.  100.5. 

47ii2. 

62.  280. 

44.  5058. 

75.  2.529. 

50.  1995. 

xxviL  5.  1556. 

65.  3012. 

27.  410.5. 

72.  2529. 

46.  1204,1651,1657. 

XT.  34  1264.  1651, 1657. 

xxviiL  2.  3049. 

xvi.  9.  1430. 

19.  2807,  4809. 

16.  443,  2808,  2809. 

20.  966. 

MARK. 

ST.  LUKE. 

i.  9.  864. 

i,  11.  28.  255. 

13.  866-871,   4767- 

50.  2349. 

4805. 

u.  4.  3S98. 

24.  2735. 

9.  255. 

ii.  4-  1907. 

10.  762. 

Iv.  2,  8.  2053,  2665. 

II.  883. 

5.  .3497.3961,3966. 

13.  256. 

16.  3961. 

19.  2002.  3474, 3495- 

17.  .3958-3960,  3976. 

3497. 

19  3984-3980,  3094- 

85.  876. 

4010,  4358-4365. 

39.  1602. 

iL  40.  764. 

40-52.  84S, 
ill.  5.  3581. 

7.  2795,  2805. 

8.  2541,  3925-393(H 

3954-3956. 
10-14.  4266. 
15.  4760. 

17.  2802-2804. 
21.  864. 

iv.     I.  4767-4805 
1-13  806-87L 

3.  2007. 
5.  4726. 

7.  1677. 

18.  4955. 

27.  4168. 

28.  29,  858. 

29.  3907. 

34.  2735. 

V.  5.  3433,  5021, 

14.  962. 
vi.  38.  1739,  1742. 

43.  2404,  2456,  3547. 

43.  44.  4095. 

44.  2692,  2693. 

45.  3490,  4073-4076, 

4136. 
vii.  8.  3627. 

9.  2501. 
28.  3125. 
31-35.  1470. 
37-50.  4230. 

38.  2002. 
45-50.  312. 

viii.  2.  1430. 

5.  8,  2653,  2665. 

12.  13,  18.  2570. 

14.  3984-3986,3994- 

4010,  43.58-4366. 

15.  2627,  3480. 
18.  4249. 

24.  1246,  1247. 
44.  1283. 

45-  1956. 
52.  1534. 
56.  962. 
ix.  7.  496.3. 
18.  2863. 

23.  234,  3958-3960, 
4168. 

25.  4635,  4637. 

26.  3906. 
33-  3744. 

44.  2626,  2663. 
54-  275. 
X.  7.  448. 

16.  2596. 

37.  43-15, 1040,  .33.32, 
3348,  3349,  .3;»7 
-.3.366.  3947. 

33.  1739, 1740,  1946. 

35.  3462. 

39.  2648. 

xL  2.  979,  2287,  3825, 
4143. 

4.  3856,  .3857,  4708, 

4717. 

8.  3803. 

9.  3893-3902. 
9.  10,  3751. 

II.  30.57. 

13.  3758.  4552-4554 
21.  4773. 

26.  4516. 
32.  2246. 

39.  134.  1404,  1459, 
1463.  2693. 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


889 


xiT. 


zix. 


49.  41R8. 
a.  3056. 
S.  4922. 

7.  3r,54,  4019-4022. 

8.  39U4-3911. 

15.  1348, 10S2,  1711- 
1713. 

19.  3(554. 

20.  4419,  5015. 
33.  4641-4645. 
24.  3S82. 

28.  1990-2006. 

35.  1051,  1052,  1562. 

40.  1051,  1052. 

48.  2202,  2394,  2395. 

49.  2244. 

7.  2394,  3961,3963, 

3964. 

19.  2404,  2518. 

21.  1162,  2445.  2575. 

23.  24,  702,  lo88, 

1508,  1518. 

24.  702,  2790,  2793, 

3589,3931,4213, 

4738. 
32.  3392. 
18.  4205. 

23.  5076. 

27.  1046,  3958-3960. 

8.  397. 
10.  259. 

17.  4070. 
i&.  3825. 

20.  2314. 

9  3647,  4961,  4062. 

9-1 1.  4415-4421. 
10.  2854,  3244-3251. 
13.  4190. 
15.  4081. 

18.  4580. 

19.  4013. 

21.  4415,  4559. 

22.  258. 

31.  3539,  3544. 

1.  1163,  1104. 

2.  959. 

10.  3288,  4226. 

20.  1414,  1423,  1424. 

1426-1429,1.546, 
1559.2239,2526, 
2536, 2634,  2637, 
4026. 

24.  3893. 
27.  1544. 
30.  2895. 

I.  3803, 3839,  3893- 
3902. 

3.  3837. 

11.  2993,  2994,  3014, 

3563. 

13.  1593,  3788,  3797, 

3805,3809,3812, 

3816. 
x6.  765. 
17.  3890-3892. 

21.  3591. 

32.  1889,  3567-3570, 

4458. 
93.  4367-4.369. 
24.  3984-39  6,  3994- 

4010. 
35.  4358-4369,4389 

4397. 

3.  4355-4357. 

4.  2944. 

12.  1280,  198T, 

14.  2679. 
17.  2562. 


4334-4354. 

3062. 

4457. 

4168. 

286. 

1544-1.546. 

35-  3062. 

3296-3301,  3309- 

3311, 
3'''64. 
4770. 

1921,  3778. 
1489,  3252-3255. 
46,  385(),  3857. 
2287,  3616. 
4273,  4691-4717, 

4743,  4762. 
8724,  4804. 
4006,  4491. 
2529,  4228,  4229. 
1598,  4216,  4257, 

4258. 
3369. 
1610. 

2887,  3148. 
3143. 
845. 


XX.  27. 

xxi.  7. 

8. 
12. 

19. 

34. 

34, 

xxii.  19. 

24. 
SI- 
32. 
40. 
40. 
42. 
46. 

44- 

48. 

62. 

xxiii.  43. 

xxiv.  30. 
31- 
32. 
45- 

52. 

ST.  JOHN. 
L  I.  875. 
9.  385. 

11.  2678. 

12.  1959,1961,4863. 
14.  846,  849,  850, 

1137. 

16.  935,  939,  2342, 

2751-2753,2852, 
2979. 

17.  3216. 

li.  10.  4998,  4999. 
II.  3539,  3541. 
ill  3.  974,  975,  1087. 
3-5.  2730-2738,2820- 
2824. 

4.  4840. 

5.  3209,  4063-4128. 

8.  1412,  1413,2893, 

2890,2898.2905, 
5447,  5456. 

9.  591,  3029,  4112. 
lb.  3119. 

14,  1944,1999,2000, 

2004. 
14,  15.  1946,  1948. 

16.  398,  854,  2249, 
2319,2320,2417, 
3350,  3351. 

17.  1140. 

18.  1949,  3057. 
18,  36.  2808,  2809. 
36.  2435,2438,3582. 

iT.  7.  3763. 

II.  3321,3437,3450. 

14.  1081. 

15.  3450. 
20.  3777. 

24.  2223,3793,37%, 
3812-3816,5069, 
5070,  5U84. 
29.  2448. 
42.  883. 
T.  2.  2428. 
17.  3530. 

27.  957. 

28.  43:14-4354. 

39.  4853. 

40.  1406,  2807. 
vi  15.  1160. 


35.  41.^0. 

37.  928-930,  2417. 

51.  1784. 

64.  1936. 

17.  599,  1142.  2019, 

3106,  3148. 
19.  3609. 

37.  395. 

38.  10»)6,  1081. 
9.  4284-4286. 

12.  877,  878,  978, 

3577. 

34,  36.  4955. 

36.  2871,  3199. 

37.  4(/90. 

40.  48.'>8-4840. 
4.  1414. 

6.  3442,  3446. 

7.  3440 

25.  1144-1148. 
39-  2441. 

9.  879-881. 
II.  961. 

35.  635. 

24.  4334-4354. 
44.  2480. 

26.  965. 

32.  2419,  2442. 
48.  5057. 

i.  7.  113,  3103-3155, 
37U0-3702. 

14.  4316. 

15.  1851,  3347. 
17.  2399. 

34.  3347. 

35.  3329,  3370-3373, 

I,  2.  1.589. 
2.  4C)32. 

6.  836,  1986. 
7  3527. 
9.  2241. 

II.  3.543. 

13,  14.  3810. 

15.  987,  3300-3.311. 
21.  991,  3309-3311, 

3609,44i'.0,4461. 
21,  22.  974,  975. 

23.  840,  973,  975, 

2900,  3335-3342. 

24.  2609. 

26.  2867. 

27.  1591. 
30.  40(;8. 

33.  1637,  1638. 
I.  4050. 

1,  2.  2.3'.»4,  2516. 

2.  126,  192,  215, 

2394,2516,2714 
2718. 

4.  1000,  1005. 

4,  5.  748,  931,  2358, 
2852. 

5.  796,  882,  993- 

995,  1024.  10j5, 
1241,  1401. 

8.  737,  3155,  3613, 

3944. 

11.  1083. 

12.  3347. 

12.  17.  3329,  3370- 

3373. 

13.  948,  949. 

14.  987,  2900. 

16.  38-10. 
19.  2846. 

2.  1290,  1300-1307, 
8.  1472. 
12,  13.  4875-4878. 


xvi.  13.  2869,2870,2877- 
2882. 

23,  24,  26.  3810. 
xviL     3.  2019,3118,3120. 

3130-3142. 
4.  976. 
12.  945. 

15.  4194. 

16.  5026-5032,  50.T. 
21.  999,  1190-1214. 

24.  3823. 
26.  3140. 

XX,  25.  2017. 

29.  2020, 
xxi.     3.  3433. 

15.  991,  3331. 

17.  1282. 

18.  3695. 

21.  1508,  1518, 


ACTS, 
i, 

ii, 

iiL 

iT. 


Vll. 

▼iii. 


xiu. 
xiv. 

XV. 


xvni. 
xix. 


xxni. 
xxiv. 


8.  1243,28S5-28d8. 

25.  49.">9. 

24.  27,  31,  844. 
44-47-  1240, 
19.  3611, 

21.  979. 
2.  4334-4354. 

14.  3933. 
18.  292. 
23  5037. 

34.  35-  1240, 

9.  4373. 

31.  4249,  4250. 
40.  292. 
9.  1375,  1376. 
51.  2S99. 
60.  1636,  3726. 

21.  4080,  408L 
31.  264.3. 

37.  1936. 

6.  1725,3726,4126. 
II.  2471,.3721.37S)i 

38.  2205-07,  32b9. 
44-  3447. 

18.  4249,  4250, 

7.  1627,  1628, 

10.  1468. 
46.  2,S()7. 

22.  197.  2793. 
2.  1229. 

9.  327, 1897, 1984 

39-  13^]- 

6.  2867. 

13.  5081. 

26.  1576. 

31.  1942,19.51,1964 
3611. 
2.  17,  1375,  1376. 

11.  261.5-2617, 
18,  4334-4.354. 

21.  2577.259 ].2.*j94 

26.  3419,  3420. 

27.  3399. 

28.  397.  3402. 

30.  3032,  3581. 

31.  957. 

4.  19,  1375,  1.37*. 

8.  1375,  1376. 

15.  4761. 
28.  28t>7. 
31.  2810. 

35.  1736-174.3. 

6.  8.  4334-4354. 

5.  4334-4354. 

25.  1445,  4248. 

36.  4917. 

7.  5043. 


890 

INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 

XI  vi.  9.  1200.  1300-07. 

3700-3702,  4028, 

iv.  15.  .3447. 

ui.  2,  3.  2622,  2623. 

18.  4008. 

4051. 

16.  2.^.07. 

3.  741.  2.307. 

xxvii.  22-25.  31,  44, 1790. 

29.  2:i64. 

V.  6.  .36M2,  4515. 

5.  1005.  2351. 

ixviii.  22.  1045. 

29,  30.  1708-1802. 

10.  50.33,  5035-37. 

6-9.  3216. 

5.  1847. 

30.  1776,  1777. 

13.  1231. 

10,  18.  1121. 

32.  854,  1140. 

17.  4067. 

17.  2871  3109. 

KOMANS. 

37.  3708. 

vi.  7.  .3168,  3169. 

18.  1048,  3742,  3743. 

i.  3.  840. 

ix.  6.  1016. 

19.  2002. 

iv.  4.  848,  1663. 

5.  10.S3,  1986. 

14,  4030. 

20.  4415. 

6.  1121. 

7.  900. 

20.  40.38,  40.39. 

vii.  23.  4415. 

8,  9.  1349. 

16.  1045. 

X.  3.  3;".82-3.*)93. 

29-3 1 .  50.33. 

16.  1616,  1552. 

17.  1802. 

10.  1036,  3110,  3124, 

31.  11.53,    n.5.5. 

16,  18.  1694,   1695, 

20.  1401,  1494,  1504. 

3003. 

4075-89,  4003, 

2766-2790. 

ii.  I.  4281-4286. 

12.  2422-2424. 

.50.32. 

17,  22.  210,  216,  219, 

6.  4(103.  4(;12. 

13.  38.36. 

viii.  2.  4877. 

2(345,   2723, 

9.  2206-2301. 

14.  2641. 

ii.  25.  1106.115.3,115.5. 

2727,   2793, 

15.  1286-1200. 

xi.  6.  2405-2409. 

27.  3r-'.3,.3.s53,4(;40. 

3700-6,  4623. 

29.  738. 

22.  2180-2184,  2316, 

X.  4.  1010,  1080. 

i8.  176. 

ui.  10.  3390-3397. 

2317,  2705. 

II.  2301. 

V.  I.  4640-4667. 

19,  20.  3584. 

xiL  I.  2303. 

12.  4881-4884. 

4-8.  1601. 

20.  3193.  3194,  3354. 

2.  5033-5043. 

13.  181,  3018. 

5.  200.3. 

20,  28.  1476,  1969-75, 

3.  3014. 

16.  3200. 

7.  1926,  2173-217.% 

2418. 

4-8.  2193-2201, 

27.  650,  653. 

2178. 

22.  1971. 

6.  4874. 

31.  1010-23,  1031, 

8.  1632,  2775,  2778, 

iv.  Q,  22.  1972. 

II.  2764,  38.31-3838, 

11,58,    2088, 

2780,  2789. 

19.  2017. 

4137-4139. 

.3573,   4001, 

9.  1576. 

24.  1075. 

17.  1041. 

4188-90,  5030. 

9,  10.  3058.  3059. 

V.  I.  1804, 1969-1975. 

19.  3057. 

xL  8.  730. 

10.  957,  3063,  .3251, 

2.  2018,  3.^02. 

21.  4014. 

18.  1218-1230. 

4603-4612,  4648. 

3-5.  215,  221. 

xiii.  8-10.  11.36. 

24.  3206-3.301, 

11.  2810,  3478. 

5.  2867,  3361,  3.302. 

II,  12.  1117. 

3;-;00-33il. 

14.  1003,  1004,  1159, 

6,  8.  307,  048,  949. 

12.  982. 

28.  3317,    3320. 

3352-33.56,  3578, 

8.  1140,  2319-2321, 

xiv.  I.  1283. 

442.3-4475. 

3642. 

2678. 

4.  1280. 

29.  3318. 

17.  4003,  4114-4124. 

12.  15.;6-1538. 

7.  450(3. 

xii.  3.  2883. 

20.  2432. 

16.  1016. 

17.  1028,  4102,  4134, 

4-30.  2193-2201. 

21.  304. 

20.  '134.2.332-37,2376. 

41.36,  4151-4154, 

22.  1.360. 

vi.  10.  1351. 

tL  4.1080,3071. 

4174. 

25.  1822,  1823. 

14.  1232,  2487. 

14.  3160,  3161. 

17,  18.  1136. 

,   31.  2208,  2568. 

16.  2902. 

16.  3100. 

19.  2208. 

xiii.  I.  2215,  3011. 

17.  1035,  1040,  1043, 

19.  31121,  4454. 

20-23.  1308. 

2.  3121. 

5035,  5050. 

22.  00;i,  2S5.5. 

XV.  4.  1258,  3.501. 

S.  2031 

vii.  I.  2045,  2046-2048, 

23.  10(12,  4401-4405. 

13.  350,  1803. 

8-12.  3125-3129. 

2054,  2484.  2489. 

viL  6.  1006,  1007,  1136, 

xvi.26,  1983,  1985. 

9.  4827,  4875-78. 

9,  10.  227. 

3.^.7.-. 

10.  4815. 

10.  1460,  1461,  2835, 

7.  2423,  3194. 

L  CORINTHIANS. 

II.  2568,  4990. 

3207,  4249-4231. 

9.  1340,  1341,  1490, 

L  I.  090. 

13.  2040,    2041, 

II.  746,  747,  2026 

3101. 

10,  II.  1218-12.30. 

3328. 

4260-4272,  4575. 

9,  10,  13.  26.30. 

10-12.  1822,  1823. 

xiv,  9.  2208. 

viiL  I.  3083,  3000. 

18.  1007,  1055,  4068. 

17.  1309. 

15.  5U6P. 

7.  732-736. 

23,  24.  1053. 

17,  18.  1141. 

20.  1215-1217. 

ix.  8.  903-99.5,1024 

24.  1500,  1618,  3216, 

18.  2430-2442. 

XV.  9,  10.  1065. 

23-25.  1349. 

44S2-4484. 

18,  23.  1087. 

10.  20:0. 

X.  5.  4116. 

25.  3305,  s.m. 

21.  470,  .3440,  3442, 

12-52.  4.334-4354. 

7.  2906-3005. 

nil  I.  282.'),  3057. 

4107-4111. 

22.  306. 

12.  2070,  4465. 

i-c;.  2813. 

24.  841,  842. 

24.  970,  985. 

xi.  29.  1238. 

2.  28(1,  3534. 

26-28.  1003,  2437. 

31.  1.547,  .3272. 

xii.  7.  3853. 

3.  840,  :-!210,  3398. 

27.  2.508. 

33.  5037,  5056. 

9.  1066,  1280,  2366- 

3,  12.  3305. 

30.  3053. 

34.  6S7-703. 

2374. 

4.  3971. 

ii.  4.  1307,  2608. 

41.  1210. 

xiiL  5.  739.  2456,  4423- 

5.  1030. 

5.  2508. 

54.  1504. 

4475. 

6.  4102. 

6-14.  600. 

55.  1612,  2559. 

8.  1165,  1375,  1376, 

5,  II,  14.  200.5. 

9.  2714-17,  2739. 

xvi.  22,  3368. 

4828-4831. 

7.  2677-2670,  3575. 

10.  508. 

XX viii.  9.  3620,  3634. 

14.  2867. 

9.  2000,  2002-2004. 

12-15.  1087. 

xiv.  3,  4.  2437. 

13.  4005. 

14.  074,  075,  2437, 

II.  CORINTHIANS. 

14.  2872.  2873,  2875. 

27.38-3860. 

i.  3,  4-  202. 

GALATIANS. 

15.  2O.-1O. 

iii  3.  1218-1230. 

10.  122. 

i.  8.  2617. 

16.  2'.'0()-2908. 

5.  3477. 

20.  3749. 

16.  130.3,  3616. 

17.  1(;76. 

6,  7.  3430. 

22.  100,  2003. 

iL  2.  4204. 

18.  3703. 

7.  2500. 

24.  2010,  2011. 

16.  1060-75,  ,3596-99, 

2o,  2^.  3.388. 

16.  2002,  2904. 

ii.  10.  301. 

3604-3607. 

22.  30.3.  3674. 

18.  3500. 

11.  1(.60-1672,  4673- 

20.  748,  885.072,3145. 

83  27.S7. 

21.  1078,  1080. 

4683,  4691. 

iii.  10.  2330,   4.".04-4o06. 

24.  ;<502. 

22,  1631. 

14.  2642. 

4449,  4450. 

«6.  100.2868-98,3705, 

iv.  7.  13(10,2462,2979, 

16.  2430-2442,  3458, 

II.  1802. 

.•{S4,--3.S40,  4763. 

3563. 

0^61. 

13.  382. 

■8.  ••<;14,  1245,  3609, 

13.  1079. 

1  iii.  2.  4177. 

20.  2079.  3578. 

INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


891 


ui.  24.  1969-1975. 

T.  17.  5008. 

ii.    6.  1080,    198  5,    1988, 

V.  21.  4864-4871. 

27.  418-J. 

vi,   4,  775-790,    794,  798, 

2476-2478,  4119. 

vi.    4.   1367-70,     1508-18. 

IT,   1-3,  3214. 

799,  ^03-S()6,  808, 

13.   3582. 

6.  4422. 

4.  849. 

809,  811-815. 

15.  382,  3708. 

7.  44  '7-4411. 

S.  381 

6.  4146,  4147. 

22.  1^087. 

8.  1685. 1686.  lf:88-92, 

16.  483S-4840. 

7.  3036-3638. 

iii.     I.  5063. 

2327,  5060. 

19.  3578. 

8.  35S!» 

2,  43-45,  2770,  5050, 

9.  17,  4358^369. 

29.  284r). 

II.  16(i8-1072,     4426, 

50(51. 

II.  727-730. 

T      2.   1945.    19.50,    2.545, 

4673-46S3,  4i;9l. 

3.   1001-1002. 

12.  4634. 

2546. 

12.  K^-*^  1061,  2409. 

4.  88,5,  1114. 

12.  ig.  696. 

6.  2006,    20.'56,    2401, 

16.   KiGi. 

5.   1058,  4095. 

17.  402,  1231,  4372-83, 

•1\-1\. 

17.  627,  628. 

9,  10.  4066,4007,4079. 

4975-498a 

7.  2.547,    25.50,    3968, 

18.  3776,  4903  4910. 

10.  1072. 

17,  i8.  454. 

307:5-3975. 

12.  2937-2941,  2943. 

9.  4515 
15.   1218-12.30,  1239. 

PHILirPIANS. 

16.  2644. 

II.  TIMOTHY. 

i.     I.  990. 

17.  11.58,     4188-4190, 

i.    6.  2468. 

16.  4119. 

6.   1070. 

4190-4198. 

7.  4833. 

16,  17.  10.57.1060,1061. 

9.  2532. 

19.  821. 

8.   104.5. 

17.  2907,    3398.    4G38, 

II.   1084. 

24.  4147. 

10.   1613,  .•'415. 

4(;3'.). 

13.  14,  92. 

iv.    2.  4906-4910. 

12.  1148,    1587,    1592, 

22.  2897,  2905,  3330. 

16.  2558. 

5.  39,31,  3932. 

164L. 

29.   3i)3_'. 

21.  1003,    1004.    1.572- 

6.  802. 

13.  48:53-4836,    4842- 

vi.     I.  2084-2687. 

1578,  1,580,    1613, 

12.  732-736. 

4848. 

2.  35:i4. 

lii.SO. 

ii.    3.  104(5,1690,3914-21, 
3958-3960. 

3.  .3014. 

23.  1103.    1104,    1110, 

I.  THESSALONIANS. 

6.  4611,4612. 

11.3.3,  255'.>,    2775, 

i.    3.  2916,  3662. 

4,  3616. 

7.   3-MO. 

2780-2789. 

5.  2.305.  2S85-2888. 

14.  ;5511. 

9.    104.5. 

24.  414ii. 

15.  727-7,30. 

19.  4569. 

12.  1041;.    30.34,   3958- 

ii.     3.   29.57-2941. 

ii.  12.  3:tll. 

20,  21.  2193-2201. 

3'.u;0. 

4.  1177,    1201,    1223, 

13.  3866-3879. 

21.  4105. 

14.   10.35,  1949. 

1224,  1238. 

iv.    I.  3971 

23.  1367-1370,1.508-18, 

6-8.  853. 

3.  3953. 

3077,  309.5. 

EPIIESIANS. 

9.  977,  978,  983. 

10.  2488.  2490,  2492, 

26.  4482  -  4484,     4776, 

L     I.  1179. 

12.  1480,    1787,    1792, 

2496,  258(;.  2569. 

4954. 

4.  1779. 

1796,    2045,  2046, 

13.  472,  2913-2921. 

iii.    5.  3976. 

6,  7.  942,  94& 

2048. 

13,  15.   1636. 

7.  247.5. 

10.  391. 

13.  1002,     1015,    1401, 

V.    3.  2298. 

12.  39.58-3960. 

11.  28o7. 

1407,  235S 

6.  4897-4914. 

13.  14.52. 

13.   100. 

15.  1237,  4193.  50.37 

8.  2910. 

15.  617. 

14.   2903. 

iu.    I.  756-63,  3038,  3049, 

16.  1083,  3817,  3818. 

16.  480-515.  633,   634 

17.  2532. 

3ij50. 

17.  3731-3733,    3745, 

646. 

23.  401.5-4018. 

12.  2054.  2063 

3746,  3767, 3782- 

16,  17.  1034. 

u.     I.  3312.    .3582,    4489, 

12-14.  996,  1062,  1071, 

3:102. 

iv.    2.  4:505-4317. 

4863,  4953. 

2475,  2500.  2505. 

19.  2640,  2642. 

3.  2577-2582,  2590. 

2.   1622. 

13.  2848,    2849,    3948, 

20.  34.38-34(54. 

5.  3967. 

3.  4552-4.5,53. 

4463. 

21.   1128,    11.38,  11.39, 

6.  2559. 

5.  942,  946,   1005-16, 

13,  14.  995. 

1375.  1:576,  1824, 

8.   1106. 

:o6S. 

14.  110.5. 

48:!3  :3(;,  4842^7. 

10.  4393,  4940,  5058. 

7.  3410,3417,3421-23. 

17.   1868,  2.597. 

viii.  22.  45(5.5-4569. 

3.   197.;,  1977. 

19.  5020,  5049,  5063. 

TITUS. 

9.  101 ;?,  1014,  2411. 

20.  1029,  1030,  5041. 

II.   THE.SSALONIANS. 

i.    2.  2910  2912,  3502. 

10.  1077,  2J04,  3971. 

21.  4334. 

i.    3.  2564. 

13  4305-4308. 

T2.  .3575.  4957. 

iy.    4.  756-62,  3038,  3049, 

ii.  13.   1779,  3953. 

15.  1316. 

22.  2900-2902. 

3050. 

14.  3447. 

16.  4500.  4501. 

iii.  17.  2039. 

5.  9S2.  11.5.5. 

iii.  10.   3852. 

ii.  10.  46.  731,  992,  2397. 

19.  950,     1060,     23S5, 

6.  3740,    .37,56,    3757, 

13.  1045. 

12.  277(5. 

2388,  2389,  2751- 

3802.  3820. 

14.  8:;2,  5037. 

2753. 

8.  46,  732-7,36,    2545. 

I.  TIMOTHY. 

18.  3>i:58. 

20.  23  i7,  2366-2374. 

2546,    3618-3026, 

i.    I.  29.36. 

iii.    5.  2874. 

iv.     I.  3971. 

415,3. 

4.  1367-1370,1508-18. 

2.  3502. 

3-13.  1190-1214,  1220. 

II.  1349,  1705,  1719. 

8.  4124. 

9.  1218-30,    1367-70, 

4-6.  1171-1174. 

12.   1349,  1350. 

9.  3160.  3161. 

1508-1518. 

8,  II    12,  926. 

13.   2791. 

19.  2364-2374. 

II.  229.5. 

13.   26';4,  41.54. 

15.  14,S4,    1783,    2958, 

HEBREWS. 

15.   lO.'ii,  1200, 4311-17. 

33.54. 

L     I.   1120,  .3214. 

19.  4539,  4540. 

COLOSSIANS. 

ii.    I.  5080. 

3.  8.5.5-857,  3530. 

2C    4120. 

i.    2.  990. 

iii.    9.  2053. 

ii.     I.   1(525. 

22  24.   10;>4. 

3,  4.  1047. 

15.  .5.34. 

3.  687.     703,    2435, 

23.  2488 

10.  993-95,  1024,  2532, 

16.   1140,  241.5. 

4918,4923, 

24.   1C72. 

3971. 

iv.    2.   1313-1:51.5,     144.5, 

4.  2867. 

26.  2696. 

II,  12.  1G2. 

4,539,  4540,  4949- 

7,  8.  4205,  4232-63. 

27.  45U7  •4,509. 

12.  4098-4102. 

4951. 

10.  872.  873. 

30.  2SR--2899,  4054, 

iQ.  •)35-939. 

10.  927. 

13.  4274-43:33. 

36.  274. 

19,  20.   391. 

12.   1854-1856. 

14.  382.  1568,  1570. 

r.     1.   4L41,  41.50-41.5.3. 

21.  2432. 

13.  655-686. 

18.  4790-4794. 

9.  2545,  •_546,  4079. 

27.  3502. 

15.  301)4,  ,3096,3466-09. 

iii.     6.  2918. 

14.   6.S7,  703,  49.52. 

ii.    4.  2(508, 

r6.  41:57. 

6,  14.  3966-3976. 

x.S.  1032,  3926,  4177 

5.  3147. 

V,    6.  3582, 

7,  15.  1438-1452. 

89« 


INDEX  OF  TEXTS. 


iiL   8.  4636. 

THE  EPISTLE  OF 

iii.  II.  4497-4503. 

i*.  9.  2319,  2320. 

13.  3909. 

JAMES. 

15.  2474. 

10.  946,  2318,  2878, 

15.  3447. 

i.  2.  4778,  4787. 

IT.  7.  4,s97-4914 

3351. 

iv.  7.  1438-1452. 

2-4.  12,  21.5. 

8.  3363. 

12.  3370-3373. 

9.  2042,  2728,  2729, 

4.  148-154,  4194. 

12.  1687,  3697. 

18.  333.3. 

2761. 

4-12.  3709-3713. 

16.  162,  l(i45. 

19.  3351,  3363. 

II,  2759-2764,  2768. 

6.  3827-3830. 

».  5.  2930-41,  2982-85. 

V.  3.  3202,  3638. 

12.  16,  16,  956. 

n.  4382,  4383. 

5,  6.  42f.9-4262. 

4.  2041. 

13,  16.  2257-67,  2359, 

12.  4795. 

6.  2048.  20.55,  2081. 

7.  4814. 

2()8 1-2683,  oOSii. 

13.  2279,4795. 

7.  2371-2374.  3741. 

10.  1881,  1966. 

15.  4790-4794. 

14.  1679,  4685-4690, 

8.  1673,  1674. 

14.  3761. 

16.  2047.  3796,  3824- 

4728. 

9.  1922. 

3826. 

15.  4491-4495.  4534. 

II.  JOHN. 

T.  7.  4763,  3834. 

17.  2460,  3.323,  3747, 

IT.  PETICR. 

ver.  4.  3971. 

12.  3102. 

3750-3753,  4111. 

u  1.  12.58,  2416,  2840. 

5.  3370-3373. 

fi.  I.  2391,  2458. 

18.  1918-1986. 

2.  25.32. 

2.  4334-4.354. 

19-25.  2618-2621. 

4.  3501,  3521.  4466. 

III.  JOHN. 

5.  2771  2779,  4661, 

22.  737,  2399,  3609. 

5.  1806,  2.308,  2481, 

ver.  II.  727-730. 

4(552. 

23.  3192. 

2482,  2.505,  2545, 

7.  1024. 

25,  2583,  3199. 

2546,  3002. 

JUDK 

7,  8.  2.394,  2395. 

26.  2699. 

5-7.  720,  7.36.  4204. 

ver.  3.  1826,  1827. 

12.  1867-1872,  1898. 

27.  3961,  3962,  4142. 

5-10.  2851-28.54. 

4.  2349.2350,4219-24. 

18.  4634. 

u.  5.  5044,  5047. 

5-8.  4148,  4149. 

7.  2301. 

19.  2032,  4765. 

10.  3187. 

10.  1787,  1708,  2.505, 

12.  994. 

20.  925. 

10,  II  4504-06,  4510. 

2759-2764,  4140. 

20.  2213.  2884. 

▼ii.  25.  941. 

16.  466 

II.  1106 

22,  23.  4295-4297,4311- 

Tiii.  s,  3215. 

17.  2037,  2398-2409. 

12.  2501-2594. 

4315. 

ix.  16.  572. 

20.  995. 

16.  846. 

24.  1068. 

27.  1536,  1542,  3063. 

22.  3103-3124. 

21.  2867. 

X.  19.  .3824-3826. 

iii.  2.  261)9. 

ii   3.  1441. 

REVELATION. 

25.  2643.  3058,  3060, 

4.  3r,59. 

7.  963,  3916. 

i.  9.  .3708. 

34.38-3464. 

iv.  1.  1716. 

9.  4806. 

ii.  5.  425. 

25.  37,  982. 

3.  3729. 

15.  4491. 

6.  1.500. 

26.  2191. 

6.  2'.t4><,  2955. 

iii.  4.  3(15,  3181,  4924. 

26.  982.  .3966-.3976. 

26,27.  2811. 

7.  1677,  1678.  2368, 

8.  3421,  3713. 

iiL  I.  3945.  3946,  442ft. 

32.  3674. 

2<;71,  39.50,  3y51, 

9.  3i;69. 

4428,  4434,444.3. 

36.  151. 

4731-4747. 

10.  1796.  3061. 

2.  34-'5. 

36,  37.  3669. 

8.  29S2-2985. 

14.  9.S().  3058,  3059. 

3.  4252. 

38.  1892,  4747. 

10.  4259-4262. 

16.  593. 

II.  44.53,  4454,  4456, 

XL  I.  1873,  1904. 

14.  3263,  3264. 

18.  745,  1435-37,  2473, 

4457,  4833. 

4.  1859. 

17.  4559-4561. 

2.->69,  3091,  30U7- 

16.  3030. 

S.  3565,  3569. 

▼.  7.  2524.  3669,  3712. 

3102,  4808. 

17.  2058. 

6.  3067.  3737. 

8,9.  982. 

20.  973.  2899. 

7.  1892.  1913,  204.3. 

10.  18.51,  1867-1872. 

I.  JOHN. 

iv.  6.  2729. 

13.  1100-1102,  3218, 

II.  739,  743,  .3707. 

i.  I,  2.  846 

V.  4.  .527. 

3284. 

16.  3747,3748,3831-39. 

I,  3.  1144-1148. 

8.  3809. 

24.  3C.74. 

5.  2317. 

9.  2C45,2760. 

27.  1908,  2044. 

I.  PETER, 

7.  3071. 

vi.  22.  ,3.3()3. 

30.  1167. 

i.  2.  :;953. 

8.  4476. 

vii.  9.  2744,  2748, 

37.  189. 

3.  320,  1076,  2910-12. 

9.  1270,  2340,  4441, 

14.  3811. 

liL  I.  3618-3626,  4550, 

4.  2721-27,  .3918,  .5047. 

4614,  4724. 

15.  2716. 

4551.  4.580,4581. 

5.  1011,  1067. 

ii.  I.  3,S25. 

16.  2779. 

2.  4471-4474. 

6.  3038,  3042,  4947. 

6.  3971. 

viii.  22.  534. 

4.  2671. 

6-8.  4169. 

15.  43-45,  1035,  .5065. 

xii.  10.  1667. 

5-7-  56. 

7.  724.  4781. 

19.  743.  3060.  4097. 

II.  627. 

5-10  31175,3676. 

8.  1082-1084,  3045. 

20.  1087,  2809,  2871, 

xiii.  10.  2524. 

6.  2322. 

8,  9.  2713. 

3148. 

xiv.  3.  2H45. 

6-8.  190,  194. 

12.  257,  2365. 

iii.  2.  1065,  1069,  1071, 

6.  2420,  2750. 

10.  2817,  2S42.  284.3. 

15.  2814-2817,  4191. 

1074,  1075,  1112- 

II.  2806. 

II.  215,  724.  3700-2, 

15,  16.  744. 

1119.  11.3.5.  2237, 

13.  1004,  1095,  2729 

.3696-3699. 

17.  2054,  2063. 

2240,  .3278,  .3282- 

XT.  3.  4035. 

14.  727-30,  2730-,38, 

18.  382,  4631-46.33. 

32S4,  3286,  3287. 

xvi.  15.  4252,  4897-4914. 

2820  -  24,  2827, 

23.  4068. 

3291-3203,  3.373, 

xix.  13.  875. 

2829-28.32,  2^66, 

24,  1537, 1542,4075-89. 

3416,  3667,  4814. 

XI.  9.  2201. 

286.5,  3128. 

25.  642-645,  1247. 

3-  327. 

12.  1297,  30.54.  30.5.% 

IS  2759-2764. 

ii.  2.  2447,  2.502,  2638, 

4.  4.-..59. 

3063.4603-  4612 

16.  3462. 

2647,  48.;3. 

9.  28.56,  4117. 

ixi.  25.  2724  3723. 

23.  16.35,  2740-2743. 

5.  4099. 

II,  14,  2^  3.370-3373. 

27.  27.30-2738. 

28.  3798,  3799,  5071- 

II.  1100-2  1088,  3218. 

14.  4114-4124. 

ixii.  3.  2716. 

5074. 

12.  4200-4202. 

16.  5034. 

5.  2724,  3723. 

dii.  5-  1688-1690,2373. 

15.  1981. 

18.  3347. 

7.  3609. 

8.  837. 

21.  1851,  2499,  2849, 

ir.  I.  1824. 

11.  720.  4249. 

13.  10.3.5. 

2850,  2866,  4461. 

2.  849. 

12.  4003-4612. 

16  45.-..  2.39«. 

23.  280 

4.  12.80. 

17.  94.3. 

18.  3«i22 

ilL  4.  294a 

8.  3675. 

07.  4098  4102. 

Date  Due 

MR  -      - 

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